by Nathan Jones
“You have a better idea?” Matt asked. “I'm not sure I can stand to lead another attack where I lose half my people.”
“What if you didn't have to lose anyone, or at least we greatly reduced the risk?” Lewis asked. “Would it be worth it then to destroy the raiders or at least drive them away for good?”
“How do you see that happening?” Matt asked, but he was too emotionally drained from the day's events to put any heat into the challenge. “They've got missiles that can hit us from a mile out, and their snipers in place around the town prevent us from even trying to go out and stop them. We're trapped like rats in a cage waiting to be disposed of.”
“It's not quite as bad as you seem to think.” His friend shifted the bag of raided gear from the southern camp to rest more comfortably on his shoulder and glanced at Jane. “While we were waiting we scouted the eastern camp. It looks like the raiders abandoned their idea of three camps and have all moved there. And believe me, our attacks did more than just spook them.”
Jane nodded. “They've got a dozen sentries out at all times and they're building sandbag fortifications like they're expecting World War 3. That'll make them harder to hit, but it also means they're dug in. For once we can be the ones surrounding them and trapping them in, without having to worry about being hit from behind. The shoe's on the other foot.”
“A shoe with three missile launchers and three trucks,” Matt argued. He was losing patience for this. “I can't believe you guys. You seriously want to attack again after this morning's disaster?”
“If it means keeping Turner from blowing up a building full of our friends?” Lewis replied.
Jane nodded. “Besides, it only feels like a disaster. We lost friends and that hurts, but the raiders lost more. They're down to 28 people as far as we can see, and two of those are stuck in camp too wounded for to be useful as more than sentries.”
Lewis stepped forward to rest a hand on Matt's shoulder. “I know this is a bad time to discuss it, while we're still grieving those who died and Chauncey's lost his leg. But if we've got a truck then that opens up a lot of possibilities. I've been toying with a few ideas for a while now, but haven't been able to use them since we didn't have a source of transportation.”
Matt did his best to phrase his next objection gently. “The town's not overjoyed with the outcome of your last idea, Lewis.”
His friend flinched. “Maybe not, but has anyone else had any aside from hunkering down in the face of a missile attack that's soon going to be hitting targets we can't afford to lose?”
It was Matt's turn to flinch, and that was answer enough. Nobody had any ideas.
Lewis nodded wearily. “My idea to attack the camps was pretty basic, but this one is a lot better developed because we have more tools to work with. It'll work, I know it will.” His friend's hand on his shoulder tightened. “Please, just hear me out one more time.”
“How does a truck give us an advantage that the raiders don't already have?” Matt demanded.
“Because even with all their superior equipment they don't have access to the same kinds of resources and raw materials we do. We have an entire town full of stuff that could help us if we're clever enough to find a use for it.”
Jane nodded, giving Matt a tight smile, and finished for her companion. “And they're not the only ones who can use explosives.”
Chapter Twelve
All In
Turner wasn't pleased by the town's refusal of his new, more “generous” offer, which Mayor Tillman waited until noon the next day to relay. He showed that displeasure when he escalated the attacks a step farther.
It started with a by now familiar, if jarring, missile attack on the west end of town. Only while the defenders were occupied with putting out the fires there the raiders began hastily setting up sandbag fortifications on top of a hill about 1,000 yards east of town. Behind those they mounted their portable .50 caliber machine gun with a full time spotter directing the gunner to targets, as well assigning another spotter to guide the aim of one of their three missile launchers.
Almost before the defenders realized what was happening people out in the open in the very center of town found themselves being targeted by a hail of bullets, and large enough groups or buildings that were clearly occupied were being struck by missiles. The illusion of safety was shattered and panic broke out as word spread that nowhere in town was safe anymore.
Thankfully in spite of the panic that wasn't quite accurate, since the newly set up emplacement didn't cover the entire center of town. Still, before the defenders could respond to this new threat over twenty people died and three times that many were injured. The only possible response came in the form of once again evacuating everyone out of the danger zone, or where that wasn't possible having them stay holed up in buildings where they couldn't be spotted and shot at.
Within a half hour they'd lost the entire east end of town, all the way up to Main Street itself, and the area in which the townspeople could reasonably expect to be safe from the constant missile attacks had shrunk to almost nothing.
It was at that point that the last doubts about Lewis's plan vanished from the minds of even the staunchest detractors. After all it was a solid one, it had a lot of clever tricks involved, and most importantly it had the advantage of being their only real option.
Just as significantly, to everyone's surprise Catherine Tillman herself had approved of it, so much so that she was willing to reject Turner's offer and further enrage the raiders on the strength of her faith that it could work.
There was also the fact that Lewis and the majority of the town's defenders who weren't occupied putting out fires had been working on it through the night, almost from the moment he'd returned to town the day before. Which meant that not only was it the best option, it was the one closest to being ready to be carried out.
Which was good, because from the looks of things Aspen Hill was just about out of time. A lot of hope was being placed in this plan because it was the only one they had, and the townspeople knew they'd almost reached a point where they had to win or die trying.
It seemed to be a serious commitment, too. Rather than asking for a handful of volunteers, this time the defenders were gathering up over fifty people for the attack itself, while almost that many noncombatants were put to work preparing the things they'd need.
Those workers had their work cut out for them, since many of their tasks involved going out in the open where they'd possibly be targets of the enemy emplacement to the east, even if they were working on the western end of town where it was theoretically safe.
By noon the majority of the townspeople had been safely evacuated into the few buildings in the safe zone with basements, including town hall, and Aspen Hill looked deserted. At about that time the missile attacks blessedly ceased as well.
Lewis figured it was because by this point the fact that Turner had been making good on his threat of blowing up one house an hour, along with the barrage he'd carried out yesterday and today's strikes from the hill east of town, meant that he'd used up most of his missiles and was down to 20 or so.
The number of missiles the raiders had wouldn't have much bearing on his friend's plan, but it worried Matt that the strikes had been called off. It meant Turner might decide to act in an unpredictable way before the defenders were ready to carry out their own attack, causing further harm to the town and its people.
But nothing seemed to happen as the sun slowly sank towards the horizon, while in Aspen Hill the defenders worked furiously on their various projects. If the raiders had anything planned it didn't look as if it was happening that day.
And when nightfall finally came the defenders would be ready to begin Phase One.
* * * * *
Since Matt had lost his AR-15 during the attack on the camps he took one of the captured M16s instead. Luckily they had several new weapons to choose from between what Lewis and Jane had managed to take away and what had been in the truck. They
had also picked up plenty of 5.56 ammo and spare magazines.
With the sun sinking low over the horizon Matt settled down to one of his last preparations for the night to come, dismantling his new weapon so he could go over it thoroughly with the help of Scott Tillman.
The raiders seemed to take reasonable care of their equipment, and the M16 looked as if it was nearly new, but even so he wasn't about to trust his life to someone else's diligence. Or lack thereof. So with the help of the former sporting goods store owner he took it down to its smallest pieces and used a rag, brush, and a generous amount of solvent and gun oil to clean and lubricate where necessary.
The other defenders who'd needed to carry out this chore with their own weapons had finished up hours ago, but they weren't responsible for putting the entire plan together and seeing that each person involved did their part like Matt was. He considered it a luxury just to have a few minutes to make sure his new gun didn't fail him when he needed it most.
Although he was willing to make exceptions for personal time, such as when Sam came into the room carrying several spare loaded magazines. And as a longtime married man Scott took one look at Sam's pensive expression and decided to give the couple a chance to talk, although he more politely worded it that he needed to go stretch his legs.
Once he'd left the room Sam made her way over, offering Matt the magazines. “Here. The raiders had plenty of loaded ones ready, but I thought I'd load some of the empty ones for you myself.” She went slightly pink. “I just, I don't know, I felt like it's a way I could be with you in the fight.”
Matt accepted them and set them beside his dismantled rifle. “Thanks. I like the sound of that.”
His wife abruptly grinned impishly. “I'm pretty sure I didn't accidentally put any bullets in backwards, so you should be good.”
Laughing, Matt caught her by the belt of her baggy pants, which she wore in lieu of anything that fit her better, and tugged her down into his lap as she shrieked in surprise. But once she was there she settled in contentedly and pressed her nose up against his. “Hey,” he said.
She stared solemnly into his eyes. “Hey.”
“You know how much I love you, right?”
Sam nodded and tilted her head slightly to kiss him. “I love you too,” she whispered, lowering her cheek to rest on his shoulder. “Please come back to me.” As she spoke she took his hand and pressed it to her belly and the life growing there. “To us.”
An almost overpowering wave of emotion hit him, and Matt took a shuddering breath and held her a bit tighter. “I will,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “Nothing could keep me away.”
She nodded at that, still looking pensive, and they sat unmoving for several minutes just enjoying being with each other. Then he thought of a question he should've asked first off. “How's Chauncey?”
Sam's face fell. “In and out of consciousness, delirious. He lost a lot of blood and Terry's worried about infection, but since we don't have any antibiotics all we can do is keep the stum-” she abruptly broke off with a shudder as she realized what she was saying, then continued with a determined breath, “-keep his wounds clean and see he gets as much food and water as possible while we wait for him to improve.”
Matt nodded solemnly and held her a bit closer. “How you holding up caring for all the wounded?” There were a distressing number of those, especially after Turner's surprise attack from the east hill emplacement that morning. He knew his wife, April, and Terry had been working themselves ragged with a few helpers from among the townspeople to do what they could, but the news was as often bad as good.
“I'm holding up,” his wife said, reaching down to take the hand pressed to her belly. Then her drooping eyes shot open and she looked down at her shirt and the smudges his fingers were leaving. She abruptly sat up. “Ugh. You know you've got grease or whatever all over you?”
He reclaimed his hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. That looked like a nice shirt and she didn't have many of her own. “Sorry. Part of keeping a gun working correctly is making sure the mechanisms are well oiled.”
“Well I'll let you get back to it.” His wife slipped out of his lap and stood, but before she left she leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “See you soon.”
“When Turner's taken care of for good and we can get back to our lives,” he agreed. Sam made an emphatic sound of agreement as she slipped out the door to go take her place at the clinic. Matt knew she had an exhausting night of her own to look forward to, and he hoped she didn't push herself too hard. For her sake and the baby's.
Once his wife left he expected Scott to come back and help him get this neatly arranged assortment of tiny metal bits and bolts put back into a useful weapon, but instead he was left to his own devices for several minutes to continue the process of cleaning and oiling the weapon parts.
Matt didn't mind. It was calming to forget about everything that was about to happen and just focus on what he was doing. There was a peace and clarity that came with working with his own hands that Matt had never appreciated quite as much as at that moment, when he very much needed both.
He probably wasn't unique in that realization. Since the dawn of time he could imagine men sharpening their primitive weapons and checking their gear before going into battle to defend their homes just like he was, and he had a feeling it helped them mentally prepare for what they had to do as well.
When his quiet focus was finally broken it wasn't by Scott coming back. To his surprise instead it was Alice Thornton who came through the door, looking pale but determined and holding Chauncey's rifle case in her hands. The one the retired teacher carried his familiar shotgun in.
Matt pushed wearily to his feet and looked at the young woman. From her expression and what she was holding he had a feeling he knew what she wanted. Still, he figured he should let her say it. “Hey, Alice. Did you need something? We were about to leave.”
Alice shook her head slowly, long blond braid swinging back and forth like a pendulum, and raised the rifle case. “I want to come with you.”
That's what he'd been afraid of. Matt tried to keep his voice gentle. “Do you know how to shoot that?”
Her eyes flashed. “Not really. But I'll tell you what I do know. I know I've watched too many people I care about get hurt around me, most of them thanks to Turner or people like him.” Alice hefted the case again. “I know that even if I have trouble hitting what I aim at, when it comes time to pull the trigger I won't hesitate.”
Well, with its spread the shotgun wasn't the worst weapon to use if you had trouble hitting things. Assuming the recoil didn't injure the gaunt young woman's shoulder or wrist or knock her flat on her back. Matt resolved to make sure her shoulder had some padding and she knew to make sure the weapon's butt was firmly couched.
He didn't know when he'd decided to let her come, but he figured if she insisted on joining the fight it was better to have her along so he could look after her. He could put her somewhere where she could help out with less chance of being shot at.
“All right,” he said. “Go join the others. And if you see Scott tell him I need him to help me fix this mess we've made of my gun.”
Instead of relief or triumph or any other emotion he'd expected she merely nodded and turned to leave the room. Matt felt a brief moment of guilt, wondering if he shouldn't be directing her to some sort of grief counseling instead of letting her join an attack where she could end up killed.
Ultimately it was her decision, though, and she'd seemed rational and determined rather than distraught.
Not too long after that Scott finally showed up, and they quickly finished what they'd started and got Matt out to face the assembled defenders with a shiny new rifle on his back.
All of the defenders who weren't on patrol or sentry duty had gathered in the storehouse for this. Around 150 men and women, expressions a mix of anticipation, nervousness, and dread. Only 50, or he supposed 51 with Alice, would be going out to attack the cam
p while the remainder stayed behind to protect the town in case Turner tried a counterattack or something went wrong.
Matt looked over the crowd, friends and neighbors he couldn't have respected more highly. There were plenty of things he wanted to say, but he preferred to keep it simple.
“This is our chance,” he said quietly into the expectant silence. “To bring justice to the men who've caused us so much death and pain, to protect our loved ones, and to end the nightmare Aspen Hill has suffered through over the last two weeks. Be careful out there, and tomorrow morning when this is over we can all come back home and finally get a good night's sleep, secure in the knowledge that the threat our town has faced is no longer there.”
His words weren't the sort to inspire a rousing cheer, but when he finished the room filled with heartfelt murmurs of approval.
As the defenders returned to their preparations Matt made his way over to bid the two Phase One teams good luck and see them on their way. They included the town's best marksmen and hunters, which he sincerely hoped meant they were up to the task. After exchanging a few words with the others Matt pulled aside Lewis and Jane for a more personal farewell to his closest friends.
Since their task was potentially the most dangerous they wore their body armor, and underneath it they'd picked clothes with drab colors that wouldn't catch the eye in nighttime or daytime. Not that it was surprising to see them geared up like that, since he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them in normal clothes. He was starting to think Lewis actually slept like that. They also wore light daypacks and their weapons, both of their rifles equipped with night vision scopes.
Now, staring at the two, it was almost funny how ordinary they looked. Lewis slightly shorter and quite a bit more muscled than Matt, with fairly nondescript features and brown hair, and Jane was nearly as tall as her companion and so skinny she looked fragile even in her armor. Although they both wore their gear with the familiarity of constant use it looked odd on them, almost like costumes.