“Is there any hope for England?”
“I hear whispers of things here and there, Ray, but so much of it is a wasteland and ruled with an iron fist, like nothing you can imagine. They are so terrified of the prospect of another rebellion, they will do anything to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
“And if they knew you had come here?”
“It’s quite clear, Zoey, anyone who goes to sign up with a resistance movement is subject to a firing squad upon capture. No trial, nothing.”
“And you risked it all anyway?”
He almost choked and then laughed at the absurdity of the question.
“What did I risk? What else is there?”
“Your life?
“That was no life.”
It wasn’t long before Zoey and Lisa were asleep, and Ray knew they needed it. Baker was happy to let them be and just watch the passing countryside. Ray had always thought they would have so much to talk about. But it seemed like neither of their lives since they’d been separated was worth talking about. He sure was glad to have his friend back. He had felt like an outsider in his own city since being released. Even within the Maquis, he was the new guy, despite being at the heart of their biggest operation. They were from opposite sides of the world, but they felt like brothers. It didn’t need to be said, and Ray wondered how much he had come to fight the Nazis, and how much to help a friend in need.
The remainder of the journey was quiet. They all fell deep into thought about the things they had seen and done, imagining what might come next. Finally, they spotted the ‘Welcome to Baltimore’ sign. It looked several decades old and in need of a new coat of paint. It was faded and rusty. The streets were quiet as they made their approach, and up ahead two trucks were parked across the road, blocking the way. They were not ORPO vehicles, but civilian pickups with locals lying in wait.
“This looks inviting,” said Baker.
“No SS, think yourself lucky,” said Zoey.
“They don’t exactly look prepared for much.”
“On the roof, Ray,” Baker said.
A reflection from the scope of a rifle marked out a sharpshooter on the roof of a gas station nearby.
“They think they are ready for this?”
“At least they are trying.”
“SS units turn up here and they’ll be massacred,” Ray replied.
Several of the men and women behind the vehicles were pointing weapons at them as they approached. Ray lifted off the gas, rolled down his window, calmly halting a few metres short of the trucks.
“What is your business here?” a man demanded. He was in his fifties and rather portly, with a chequered shirt and fur lined singlet.
“We were sent from New York to see if we could lend a hand!” Ray yelled.
There was some talk between them that Ray couldn’t hear, but eventually the man stepped out from cover and approached. The others stayed put and kept their weapons trained on the car, a mixture of hunting rifles and shotguns. They looked skittish.
“No sudden moves, and no wise-ass comments, you hear me?” Ray said quietly.
“You come up from Manhattan?”
“Yeah.”
“Prove it.”
“What do you want, my Maquis ID?”
“You’re in the Maquis?”
He sounded dumb or perhaps just uncooperative.
“This is Ray Barnes you are talking to,” snapped Zoey.
“Bullshit,” replied the man, without even considering the possibility.
Ray sighed. That was exactly the kind of thing he had wanted to avoid.
“If you are Ray Barnes, I’m Adolf Hitler. What are you really doing here? And who do you work for?”
He peered in for a closer look at the occupants and noticed the weapons on their laps. He leapt back and lifted his rifle, taking aim at Ray.
“Out of the car, slowly!”
Ray was shaking his head.
“Friendly place you brought us to,” muttered Baker.
“This is crazy!” Zoey shouted.
“Knock it off. They’ve got every right to be suspicious.”
Ray held up his hands and stepped out slowly from the car, leaving his rifle behind. Those behind the roadblock wore anxious expressions, ready to pull the trigger at any moment. They looked inexperienced and poorly trained. He knew he had to tread lightly.
“Nobody move. Go for those weapons and he dies!”
Ray was calm, though it worried him more to be in front of this gun than one carried by the ORPOs. At least they had some trigger discipline. This man was on the trigger.
“Who are you really? What are you doing here?”
“We heard you had overthrown the ORPOs and needed help.”
“Help? We are managing just fine, thanks.”
“And when the tanks roll in, and the landships follow them? What will you do then?”
“What do you know about any of that?”
“Plenty.”
“Why? Because you work for the Reich?”
“Because I was there when we took Manhattan back, and I was there in London when it didn’t go so good.”
“Come on, enough of this bullshit. You aren’t Ray Barnes, and any man who claims he is deserves to be shot.”
“Pa, Pa!” a young man called out.
“Not now!”
“Pa, you got to see this.”
He looked torn and unsure of how to go on. While he deliberated, the younger man rushed to his side.
“What are you doing? I told you to stay back behind the truck.”
“You need to see this.”
He was carrying a crinkled and dirty flyer. The older man snatched it from the younger one, looking back and forth as he seemed to compare whatever he was looking to against Ray.
“This? This is you?” he asked, turning the flyer around.
It was in black and white and looked like a cheap photocopy. At the top was a photo of Ray as he held the flag standing atop Eiserner Gott.
“That was a good day,” he replied with a smile.
The truth was it was the best day of his life. The first major victory he had ever known. It felt like a simpler time than now. The desperate hopelessness of their situation and the risks they all had faced seemed to fade with time. All he really remembered was the triumphant victory, and that Weathers was there to celebrate it with them.
“Your driver’s licence, let me see it,” said the man, holding out his hand.
His tone had changed, and he lowered his rifle slightly. Ray was glad to oblige, anything to get the muzzles lowered. He pulled out his wallet and then his card. The man snatched it and moved back cautiously.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He relaxed and lowered his weapon fully.
He handed back the licence.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea. If we’d known you were coming…”
“It’s okay. With this communication blackout, there was nothing to be done, and we have to be careful what we air for the Reich to hear, anyway.”
“The name’s Will, and this is my boy, Leonard.”
“All right, Will, tell me the situation here.”
“What you’re seeing here is a squad of the Baltimore Militia. We got organised after we heard what you did in New York.”
“It wasn’t just me.”
“No, but we were led by your example. We kicked the ORPOs out, and the city is free now. Follow me. I’ll take you to the Boss.”
He eagerly climbed into a truck and broke the blockade. Ray climbed wearily back into his old cruiser.
“They’ve got no idea, have they?”
“Everyone has to start somewhere, Gerry.”
“We weren’t ever this green, were we?”
“Sure you were, Zoey,” replied Lisa.
“If German regulars turn up here, they’re gonna get their arses kicked, badly,” said Baker.
“Sure are.”
As they rolled into Baltimore, they realised how run dow
n and poor it was. However bad it had got in New York, it was far worse here. Four-fifths of the shops were boarded up or smashed to bits. Litter was strewn across the streets. There were abandoned cars that looked like they’d been there years. It looked close to an abandoned city.
“Almost two hundred thousand people used to live here. Now I hear its closer to twenty,” said Zoey.
“It’s hard to know what to believe, but it looks like they’ve had it rough,” said Lisa.
“It’s rough all over.”
It struck him that the conditions on Rikers seemed better than they were out on the streets.
They pulled up outside an old hardware store that seemed to be still functioning, but armed guards were standing outside, and more on the rooftop. As they drew to a halt, the front doors were flung open, and several men came out to greet them. All were armed; some were almost as young as Leonard. The man at the front was clearly in charge, and approached Ray as he stepped from the car.
“Welcome to Baltimore. It’s an honour to have you here.” He reached out his hand in friendship.
“I’m Ray,” he replied.
“Doug Williams.”
His name was on the building behind him.
“It’s my store all right, but I also run this militia.”
He was a little younger than Will, but just as out of shape. The two looked like the classic weekend hunters who thought themselves something special, and yet a keenness in his eye hinted at something a little more.
“Follow me, please,” said Doug.
They stepped into the shop. Business was going on as usual as a work colleague dealt with several customers.
“You realise what is going on around you, right?”
“We know what is going on, and we are doing what we can, but life must go on.”
“What does that mean?”
“We want to join whatever it is that you are doing, but these people, we aren’t soldiers.”
“You call yourselves a militia, don’t you?” Baker asked.
“We’re here to give the people of this city a fair shot at leading a normal life, not to fight a war.”
“Yeah, well, a war is what you have. You can either fight it, or stay under the thumb of the Reich, because those are the only two options.”
“You’re saying it’s your way or their way, and that’s it?”
“I’m not saying that. I am telling you it’s not our choice.”
“Then whose?”
“The Reich. So long as they have power in this land, they will own you, and to them you are either with them, or with us. You have made your decision. You threw the ORPOs out, but are you willing to do what now needs to be done?”
Doug ignored Ray for a moment and turned his attention to Will.
“Send Riggs to take over. Take a break for a few hours.”
Ray already didn’t like the sound of their operation. It was sloppy.
“I heard earlier that someone reckons army camps are being built down in Virginia. They say something big is happening.”
“What happens in Virginia is of no concern to us.”
“The hell it is,” replied Baker.
“And what would you know about it? This isn’t your country,” Doug snapped, grimacing at the sound of Baker’s very English accent.
“I am an immigrant in a land of immigrants, who has more right to be here?” he replied eloquently.
Doug didn’t follow, but it made him angrier still. Ray pushed Baker back to intervene.
“Look, we aren’t here to get in your way, but we need to know what is going on around us.”
“If you want to check it out. Fine, send your people.”
“Okay,” replied Ray wearily.
It was hard work, and he didn’t care much for Doug’s tone.
“Word was Baltimore wanted to join the resistance, to join the Maquis? Is that the case or not?”
“Like I told you, we want to join, but we aren’t heading out to fight. We just want what is ours.”
“I guess it means nothing to you that so many have already given their lives to get you to this point?” Zoey snapped.
“Of course it does. You are all heroes to us, but the people here are barely surviving. They aren’t fighters. They wouldn’t even know how. Look, you are welcome to stay as long as you like, but we aren’t getting into a fight we can’t win. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Ray and the others walked out to find the rest of Baker’s team fanned out across the street, as if to be ready for anything. It was in stark contrast to the militia who looked like they were posing at the range.
“So they want everything you have to offer, but give nothing back?”
“That’s about the sum of it, Gerry, yeah.”
“This thing down in Virginia, it needs to be looked into.”
“Yeah.”
“Let me go.”
“No, I want you here.”
“Okay, then,” he replied and gestured to the brothers, Johnny and Flinn.
They were at his side in no time at all.
“These two can handle it as good as any.”
Ray appreciated the optimism and enthusiasm, a breath of fresh air after the meeting with Doug and the Baltimore militia.
“You’re gonna need a guide. Someone who knows the land.”
“Zoey’s right. You just got here.”
“We’ll do whatever it is you need of us,” said Flinn.
“I grew up all around these parts. I’ll go,” said Zoey.
“All right, take the car. You investigate the area, try and work out what is going on, but do not pick any fights. You don’t fire a shot unless fired on. Go quiet, go smooth, and come back alive.”
They quickly climbed into the cruiser and rolled off into the distance.
“We need to let Woody know what the situation is down here.”
“And what is that?”
“It’s shit, Lisa. We’re gonna need help ASAP. They might not know it yet, but this place is about the light up with fire and brimstone.”
“They just don’t get it, do they?”
Ray shook his head.
“I had hoped for so much more, Gerry.”
“So what now?”
“We need to get that radio in the truck working, and let Woody know what’s going on here. Like I said, it’s gonna get ugly real soon. Doug might not see it, but I can. We are gonna need all the help we can get.”
“You didn’t tell him about the radio?”
“No, there’s no need to share that information just yet.”
* * *
9th February 2018, 4.20am
Will yawned as he sat down in a shop front. He’d been on duty for just twenty minutes and hadn’t had nearly enough sleep.
“Why’d we always get the 4am?” Leonard asked.
“Somebody has to do it. We all have to pull our weight, son. Until we know things have settled down, we have to be vigilant.”
They looked out into the street. A line of trucks and cars had been positioned as a makeshift barricade on the main southern route out of the city.
“You think Ray Barnes has come here to lead us to victory?” Leonard asked enthusiastically.
“Don’t expect too much from him. He is on our side, but he’s in it for him and his own people. New Yorkers like him.”
“That one he had with him, he wasn’t a New Yorker.”
“No,” replied Will. He tried to make sense of it all.
They heard the faint sound of engines, and Will shot up to investigate. Three militia were watching from behind the barricade and trailer being used as a gateway. Three others were rushing to their aid.
“Come on!”
Will grabbed him and held him firm.
“No, stay cool-headed and follow me.”
Lenard didn’t look too pleased, but neither did he argue. Will pulled down a loft hatch and ladder. He scurried up it and out onto the rooftop of the building. Leonard fol
lowed. They both carried bolt-action rifles, which neither had ever had to use against a human target besides those posing as a threat. They lay the rifles over the edge to cover the scene, and were reminded why they had remained inside when on duty. It was bitterly cold.
“My God,” said Will.
A line of military vehicles was approaching. Three Strykers and a Grizzly at the head of the column.
“How many do you think?” Leonard asked.
“Looks like a full platoon.”
“Just a platoon?”
“More than enough to raise hell. These aren’t ORPOs. These are SS regulars. Damn it, I thought they’d leave us be.”
The column stopped twenty metres short of the barricade, and four men stepped out from the Grizzly. One of them an officer in his peaked cap, as if without a care in the world for his own safety, or perhaps in the belief that no one would have the audacity to ever take a shot at him. Will used the scope on his rifle to get a closer look, but he made damn sure to go nowhere near the trigger.
Nobody moved for a few moments as if the SS troops were weighing up what they saw. Finally, they moved in.
“No closer, stop right there!” a man on the barricade yelled.
“Shit, don’t pick a fight,” Will muttered.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing here?”
“No, we are here to make sure a fight doesn’t happen.”
“And if they start firing?”
“Well, then you can fire back, but don’t you dare fire a shot unless they have, or you’ll condemn us all.”
The officer was responding to them in a calm and collected way, so quiet they couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“What are they even doing here?”
“Trying to flex their muscles.”
The discussion at the gate was getting heated. It fell silent for a moment, and the officer walked back towards the Grizzly, leaving his three men at the gate.
“They’re leaving?” Leonard asked.
But the officer stopped and looked back. He said just one word, far too quietly for them to hear, but Will could see his mouth move, and it was clear, ‘Fire.’
The three SS soldiers raised their Mauser assault rifles and opened fire on full auto. Two of the men at the gate were cut down instantly. The others ducked down for cover. Automatic gunfire rang out as they peppered the trailer and the vehicles they were hiding behind.
Soldiers of Tomorrow: The Winter War Page 8