by Paul Kirk
They hoisted their gear and were on the move in seconds.
Renaldo caught up with Gabby who was walking near Rhonda. He put his arm around his little sister in a protective half-embrace.
“Is that mean man gonna catch us, Nully?” she asked.
“No way! Not if Connor Mac has anything to say about it.”
“I like Mr. Mac, Nully.”
“Me, too, Gabby.
“He’s strong and smart like Daddy.”
“Yeah, he’s a lot like Daddy.” He risked another glance behind him at the enemy. They were edging closer.
“Can we stay with these people, Nully? I want to.”
Renaldo clasped a firm arm around her shoulders. “I like them, too, Gabby. Now grab your stuff, we gotta run real hard and real fast right now.”
"Okay, Nully.”
"Keep up with me."
"I will, Nully."
“I love you.”
“Love you, Nully.”
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 11.7-The Battle at the Summit Begins
“I’m down to fifty sniper rounds, Mac and I’ll plow through those pretty quick when Phoenix fully engages.”
“Make every one of ‘em count, Surf Boy. How much you have left for the M-4?"
"Only 156 rounds. Plus, sixty-two for the Colt. Thirty-two left for the Beretta."
"Okay. We’re gonna need ‘em all.”
“Copy that.”
“Stick with BB.”
“Yeah, Mac, I will. He's sitting 'bout the same on the M-4. He only has a box and full mag left for his Glock. We’re settin’ up on the picnic bench over there. There’s a nice angle to the curve down the highway—I should be able to kill a bunch of those scumbags when they start their climb.”
“Agreed.”
“From here on out, the shooting won’t be more than five hundred yards—that’s child’s play, Mac.”
“Okay, Surf Boy, just don’t waste your ammo.”
They had left Hopwood, the small town at the base of the mountain, and climbed the rising road hoping to make it to the Summit Hotel and the reported tollgate and stellar defenses, but were also counting on Connor’s Lick Hollow picnic area as a secondary engagement point, if necessary. Route 119 veered off to the south prior to the start of the climb. Route 40 headed east and led them up the winding mountain road. Gathering three thousand feet in elevation over a three-mile stretch of twists and turns, the road hugged the mountainside—north was a sheer cliff rising into the sky and south was a ravine that couldn’t be negotiated without the proper gear. There was no real possibility of being out flanked by Phoenix’s larger force. When the attack came, it would only come from the road and it wasn’t likely they’d receive any enemy fire from the uphill side.
“You know I won’t waste ammo, Mac. I’ll make every shot count. It’ll be like shootin’ fish in a barrel.”
“A lotta fish in a small barrel, Surf Boy,” interrupted BB, as he approached from the guardrail after studying the ravine below.
“Are you gonna help out with the shootin' or are you gonna make me do all the work as usual?” asked Marty.
“Piss off, Surf Boy. I make all mine count.”
“Hmm," said Marty. He smiled.
“Okay, guys, that’s enough. BB, you’re with Marty. Both of you, make ‘em count.”
“You got it, Mac,” said BB.
“Roger, Jason, and Jude will be behind this guard rail—it’ll give them a downward angle on anyone who makes it through your initial fire. They have sufficient ammo for at least the first twenty or thirty minutes of any initial engagement. Me, Daubney, and Edgars will take position off that line of trees. Top?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Mickey. He jogged over from conversing with John McLeod. The serious intensity on his face made it clear he was fully charged and ready to engage the enemy. John McLeod followed behind him, recognizing that the time for action was fast approaching.
“I want you to travel with McLeod, Rhonda, and the kids. Take Rice with you, too, for back cover.”
“Sir?” he questioned. There was frustration in his look—he clearly wanted to be part of the team that would kick Phoenix’s ass.
“I know, Top. I know you want to be here, in the thick of it all, but I need you to deliver that precious cargo into that garrison. Jackson and...Burroughs will be going along with you.”
“Um...yes, sir.”
“I know you don’t like it, Top, but I need you and McLeod to convince whoever’s there that we could use their help. You lend solid credibility to the situation, no offense John."
"None taken."
"Top, you'll help John convince the powers that be that we could use their help. Understood? It’s critical to our success. Let ‘em know who I am—they’ll know I’m a good friend of Mark Harmon’s. Some others around might know me I hope. Say my name, say Connor Mac, again and again to get their attention. If nothing else, convince them to send some ammo, at least, if they can spare it.”
“Yes, sir, of course.”
“Top, you look like you just swallowed a bottle of Drano! Focus, man—this is mission-critical! Don’t worry about us. Worry about reaching that garrison as quickly as you can.”
“I understand, sir.”
“I hope to see your sorry ass back here in less than thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Move it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“John?”
John McLeod edged closer with Rhonda by his side.
“Yeah, Mac?”
“I want you and Rhonda to take Cody, Renaldo, and Gabby to the Summit. Top will be your escort so you can concentrate on speed, not defense. Rice will run back cover. It’s my guess there’s a tollgate and garrison there. I’d almost guarantee it, but if it turns out there’s no garrison, keep hauling ass on Route 40 east until you reach Nemacolin. It’s about seven miles from the Summit on the left side of the road. I’m hoping you’ll find Mark Harmon there. The downside is I can only spare a horse for Jackson and one for Burroughs. Gabby can ride sittin’ behind Jackson. Rhonda, you can double up and carry Burrough's body.”
“Okay, Mac,” she said.
“I know you can run, Rhonda, but you might have some trouble getting up that hill. Besides...you'll need to keep Burrough's body secure in the saddle.”
“I’ll do it, Mac.”
“Good.”
“Those two boys can run pretty well—don’t worry about them too much unless they fall too far behind. I know you can run too John, but I want you to keep up with Mickey. That won’t be easy, but give it a try.”
“Yeah, Mac, he’s like a machine.”
“He’s combat-hardened, John. He and Rice will keep you guys safe if conditions up there at the Summit go sideways.”
“Okay, Mac. I'll keep up.”
“I know. I’d give you another couple horses, but I need them for our mobility against the front line of Phoenix’s army. The garrison commander is your objective, let ‘em know our situation, and convince ‘em to help us out. John, I’m counting on you to convince them. Mickey will keep you safe, but you'll be our negotiator.”
“I understand, Mac,” said McLeod. “You know I’ll fight like hell for you guys.”
“Thanks, man,” said Connor appreciatively. He noticed Rhonda’s look of concern. “Don’t worry, Rhonda. This is gonna work out fine.” He caught the eyes of Cody and Renaldo. “You two, over here!”
The boys ran toward him and stood next to Rhonda. Gabby followed and stood behind them.
“You guys stay sharp and listen to what the major and Top tell you. Ya hear?” They nodded solemnly. “I’m not kidding around, boys,” said Connor. “You’re part of this military engagement and its success counts on you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Cody.
“Yes, Mr. Mac,” said Renaldo, feeling a flood of emotion toward the colonel.
“You guys need to keep your eyes and ears open at all times and let the major or
Top know what you hear and see—understood?”
Both boys nodded.
“Okay,” said Connor, nodding for emphasis. “Renaldo, Gabby’s gonna ride the horse up the mountain with Jackson, okay?”
“Yeah—I mean yes, sir.”
“Good. Stick close to her.”
“Yes, Mr. Mac. I always do.”
"Gabby, have Miss Rhonda help you into the saddle, okay?
"Okay."
"Mr. Jackson's hurt bad, so you help keep an eye on Mr. Jackson holding the horse reins. Can you do that?"
"Okay."
"Good."
Connor refocused on the boys. “It’s time to move. The shit’s gonna hit the fan and I want you well on your way before it does. Remember to keep sharp.”
“Yes, sir...I will,” said Cody.
"Yes, Mr. Mac, I will."
“We’re coming right behind you, Renaldo, but at a slower pace. We plan to make a strategic retreat, and while we do that, we’ll kill as many of those...Motherfu...enemy as we can.”
“Mr. Mac...kill Phoenix. I don’t like him being alive.”
“Renaldo, I know what you mean—he’s sharing my air and he don’t deserve it. Believe me, kid—it would give me great pleasure to end his life. If I get the opportunity, you can consider him dead.”
Renaldo held Connor’s gaze and nodded once. "Go," said Connor.
"Yes, Mr. Mac."
Connor turned to the major. “Move out, John,” he said softly.
"On my way, Mac." With a nod, John waved to Mickey and they started a slow trot, trying to keep up with the horses, but unable to after fifty feet.
"Rice, c'mere."
"Sir."
"Top fill you in?"
"Yes, sir."
"I want nothing on their ass up that mountain, understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Go."
Rice ran after the team heading up the hill, but turned frequently to face downhill.
Rhonda slowed her horse to match the pace of John and Mickey. Gabby’s horse slowed to match the pace of Rhonda’s. The two boys easily kept stride with Mickey and John.
Connor tracked their progress. Nothing more could be implemented to assure their safety. Reluctantly, he turned back to the task at hand— a massive hoard of malicious deviants led by a psychopath was fast coming up the mountain highway. Connor didn’t care—the kids were gone and the only ones left in his group were seasoned veterans.
He smiled and there was a glint in his eye. This was gonna be fun.
CHAPTER 11.8-Burn and Bury
“I want those mother fuckers now,” said Phoenix. His voice was soft and quiet. Larry Reed would have been less concerned had Phoenix screamed this at the top of his lungs, but he said it with a faraway maniacal gleam in his eyes. Phoenix tracked the plume of roiling black smoke rise into the haze less than one hundred yards ahead. “Take me up there,” he growled to Larry. A few seconds brought them close enough to hear sounds of panic from his men and smell the charred flesh of the unlucky members of his army. Quickly, Phoenix exited the truck and walked briskly toward the chaos.
“Phoenix!” called Larry. “Phoenix! Get back here—there could be more explosions!”
He ignored his uncle and approached the crater made by the C-4 blast. Ignoring the smoke and smell, he nearly trod on a wounded man lying in the weeds next to the road. The man was almost unrecognizable as human—the skin on his face was blackened and cracked, oozing yellowish pus. The man’s shredded clothing continued to smolder and his right foot was turned completely around at the ankle joint. Phoenix realized that the man was still alive and trying to communicate, his lips cracking with the effort. Phoenix was fascinated with the man’s mouth. One side of his face was gone—the cheek, the eye, and part of the nose—and it gave Phoenix a good view of the man’s remaining teeth and his tongue, which lolled in his mouth, trying in vain to form an intelligible sound.
The wounded man’s voice was wet and thick and otherworldly, matching his alien appearance. When he tried to touch Phoenix’s shoe, Phoenix calmly unholstered his nine-millimeter and shot the man through the head. He lifted the radio to his lips.
“Luke, do you copy?”
“This is Luke—I read you loud and clear. Over.”
“What’s your team’s status? Over.”
“We have sight of the men on the road, sir. We’re chasing ‘em down. Over.”
“You catch them, Luke! You hear me? Over.”
“Yes, sir. We’re running hard. Send everyone you can spare as backup, sir. Over.”
“Oh, I’m sending ‘em all, Luke. Over.”
“Copy that. Tangos are running hard up the mountain. They’re ‘bout a half mile ahead. We’ll engage when we’re in range. Over.”
“We’re no more than five minutes behind you, Luke. We carved a path for the trucks around this mess. Over.”
“Understood. Over and out.”
Larry Reed joined Phoenix while he talked on the radio.
“Is it safe enough for you, uncle?” he asked sarcastically. His uncle nodded, not trusting Phoenix’s mood enough to exchange words with him.
“I want every man that can walk and pull a trigger heading up that mountain right now. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” answered Larry. “What should we do with this mess?” he asked, gesturing to the flaming eighteen-wheelers.
“Leave it for the rats to clean up,” said Phoenix.
Larry began to give orders into his radio and, after several minutes, nearly the entire army shifted to the south toward the Laurel Highland Mountains.
“Uncle! I wanna crush that pack a rats! They're mine!” Spittle flew from Phoenix’s mouth as he paced back and forth. Fifteen men showed up from the rear and they began to retrieve the bodies from the explosion. To Phoenix, it was wasted effort and he considered telling them to forget it and pursue the enemy. But he reconsidered, figuring he'd look bad as a leader. He took a different tack. “Line ‘em up, boys!” he yelled. “If you bury one of your friends, you should kill three of your enemies. Strive for that, boys—kill as many as you can.”
The men around him nodded, understanding his fury. They gave him a wide berth as they tended to and stripped the dead. They found another man slammed into a guardrail by the force of the blast—he was alive, but unable to stand and he made it clear he wouldn’t be able to continue.
“Hey! You,” asked Phoenix, pulling his weapon and walking over. “What good are ya to me?” he asked, aiming his weapon at the man’s head and calmly pulling the trigger. He turned to the group that was left. His voice was calm. “You assholes need to get moving. The guys who killed your buddies are running up the mountainside—go catch ‘em.”
They stared at him blankly and he turned to his uncle. “Larry! Your fucking men need to be moving! Right now!”
“I’m on it, Phoenix.” He rushed among his men, giving instructions to help them settle into a focused pursuit of the enemy. “We lost ninety-eight men to that C-4 shit, Phoenix. That leaves us with 317 men. 179 are cavalry and I've instructed all to pursue—they’re rolling now and we'll capture that MacMillen and annihilate him.”
“Remember, I want that asshole in one piece.”
“I know you do. If it’s feasible, I’ll do that.”
“Uncle,” said Phoenix, “if you bring that bastard to me alive, you can name your own price.”
“I’d love to, Phoenix. I don’t know what he has planned—we need to set a reserve group in case we hit another snag.”
“I meant to ask you,” said Phoenix aggressively, “why do we keep hittin’ snags against a twenty-man team? You know why? I'll tell you why, Uncle. We played their game—playing like we're pussies. No more! Fuck your reserve—we’re gonna bury these cocksuckers. Right now!”
“Okay, but let me hold back forty men.”
“No. We bury ‘em now. Right here, right now.”
“It’s your army.”
“You’re fuckin’ damn
right, it is.”
CHAPTER 11.9-The Onslaught
“Here they come, Mac. Over.”
“Copy that. Do your thing, guys. Over.”
Marty’s sniper rounds zipping across the ravine filled the relative quiet. Each spotting cue from BB shifted Marty onto another target. Connor had no doubt that ninety-nine percent of those rounds found enemy flesh or bone. The enemy force had rounded the curve in the roadway and Marty and BB had let a dozen of them appear before beginning their systematic elimination. Marty made each of twelve shots count and when the approaching army retreated to cover, they left behind twelve bodies.
“They’re bringing up their armored trucks, Mac. Over.”
“I read you. It’s what I would do. Take out their tires and radiators. Over.”
“Copy that. Over.”
“Surf Boy, they have a few fifty calibers in that mix based on Captain Daubney’s intel. Make those your priority for now. I don’t wanna have to deal with those big bastards. I haven’t seen them yet, but I’m sure they’re there somewhere. Over.”
“I hear ya, Mac. I’ll keep an eye out for ‘em. Over.” BB had taken control of the radio—Marty was fully engaged with the advancing force.
“Don’t miss a chance to take out the drivers of those trucks. Over.”
“Copy that, Mac. Over and out.”
Connor focused on the duo through his binoculars and they were already creating some havoc among Phoenix’s army. Marty shot the driver of one of the trucks through the windshield and the truck lurched forward and nosed into the cliff, crumpling the front end and spewing steam.
The enemy army retreated behind the curve in the road, presumably to consider their options. Connor was on the verge of giving the order to move up the mountain when he caught sight of a flash. “RPG launched!” he yelled into his radio. “Take cover!”
The shot was high, passing the picnic area and hitting the trees a hundred yards beyond their position.
“Here comes another!” Connor yelled.
This one was aimed with more accuracy and came within seventy-five feet of their position, but it was shot too low and exploded below the rim of the ravine.