by Angela White
“Get them up! Them up! Up!”
Men followed orders, not panicked but leery for the next hit and quick to crunch anything alive under their boots. That changed as the surviving animals began to attack. There were only a few deaths, but more than three dozen men were stung or bitten, and it sent a powerful message. There would be no comforting sleep, not the kind they’d been enjoying. It was a reminder that this was War and mental battles would be fought, too. Marc could have killed a large number of them here, but that would increase their security procedures too quickly. Besides that, wounded men always slowed things up and that’s why they’d come–to buy time.
“But if I get the chance…” Marc waved to the men to fall back as teams of soldiers began assembling to investigate. “Let’s get some sleep while they play who is that in the rocks.”
The other ghosts snickered and followed him down into their hole to wait for the next moment of attack.
As Marc pulled the cover over the hiding place, he picked out the moon and let it vanish slowly. “Good night, Baby-cakes.”
He slid down the rope and jerked it loose. Stashing it in his pocket, he turned to the men who were taking places around their cold fire pit. “Let’s go over tomorrow’s set, then we’ll get some sleep. Five hours from now, an entire platoon will be on top of us. Remember…”
“We are ghosts,” they chanted in an intimidating whisper.
Marc kept working them up, guiding them. Physically, they were ready. Mentally, they were all scarred refugees forced into fighting for their friends and family. It might not be enough to save them, but they would do damage now, while the road was clear to run. When they hit 40, that wouldn’t be possible. They would trail the soldiers and keep pecking at them until the wound was a giant hole for their men to rush through.
Tomorrow, they would ride hard and be reunited with his rookies shortly after that. Being able to cut straight across the land on a horse was a time-saver that allowed him to appear to be the Ghost to those who didn’t already believe it.
Marc wondered how many men were waiting for him, but didn’t let himself worry over it. Fifty or five hundred, they would do damage. Jax and Paul should at least have a large part of 40 wired by now with all the hands he’d left them. That would be a tough route to follow, but once they marched a single foot onto 40, the soldiers would have no other choice.
2
“Hit the deck!”
Marc’s men lunged for ground as the grenade sailed into the crags behind them.
Kablammm!
Marc waved them forward for the next launch. “Now! Go! Go!”
Natoli and Thaddeus fired their launchers together, and Marc waved for them to get down even before their shots exploded.
Kablamm!
Dirt and rock rained over the rebels like a downpour, slicing and clouding vision.
Boom! Boom!
“Pull back!” Marc shouted, still counting the seconds. “Get out of here!”
Shadow riders scattered in the brief pause, not waiting to verify that their shots had landed.
Marc waited for the next blast of incoming fire, able to sense where it would land. He lunged aside and barely avoided being caught in the small rockslide.
Ears ringing, Marc hefted his own launcher and fired the last shell.
Kablamm!
Marc had gone straight south instead of the east or west flee that the soldiers had expected, and their shell exploded harmlessly as Marc slid down the rocky path and vanished into the small town.
Marc spotted several of his men also moving toward their next trap and joined them along the wall. They had fighters waiting here, and Marc gave the code as he and the others burst through the door.
“Drop those pants! It’s a go! Go!”
Kablamm!
Boom!
The sounds of the fighting arriving on their doorstep sent an unpleasant shiver of adrenaline through every man there and got them into action.
“Fire!”
“Fire!”
Mac held the door for the men to flee out the other side of the building as their men across the street blew their stash of C-4. Wired to a shallow patch under the dirt, it was aimed at the only bridge. The soldiers would be forced to clear it or go around.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Marc ducked the noise of incoming fire, even though he and his men were clear. It was stunning, disorienting.
He shoved the man in front of him toward their next hole and was glad when the others followed. There wasn’t time or manpower to keep track of everyone, but his own group, he knew the whereabouts of.
“Down!”
Marc stayed standing as the whistle grew louder, trying to pinpoint, and was relieved when it went east of them.
“Go! Go!”
Marc herded his small crew down the stairwell and led them through the darkness. They splashed unhappily across the street and came up through the basement of a store.
Marc waved them into the small bomb cellar and shut the door. In fifteen minutes, when the center of the troops came by, the vulnerable element from the sides and bottom, they would blow this place and go underground to a third wired setup. All around them explosions and screams were echoing through the chaos. Four other groups were busy doing the same as Marc’s, each with three targets to strategically blow.
Marc checked the timer and sipped on his water, motioning for the others to do the same. None of them spoke.
The rumbled of engines and thud of steps was coming, and every heart thumped anxiously. With another exit, they felt relatively safe, but panic was riding underneath as the thuds and rumbles began passing over them.
The enemy had done their own recon and knew there was an army out there, but not how many or where they’re based at. Since the majority of the riders came from the south, the soldiers assumed that’s where the attacks were originating from. They thought the Mexicans were attempting another government takeover and were ruthless against them, which pissed off the Mexicans, who had chosen not to get involved. The full force of spanish had joined the fight a couple hours ago and now, the battle was raging unchecked all across 40. The companies had gotten too spread out and the shadow riders were taking advantage of it in every area they could.
They had also been reinforced a bit by small groups from the west. Most were strangers who had heard the calls going out, but a few were from Safe Haven. They, too, wanted to be on the front lines and make sure it didn’t go further than 40. Marc knew that wasn’t possible, but he welcomed each of them eagerly. He’d already given them two weeks. He wanted double that for the camp to make it to the mountains. They would be setting things up there while the government took over a base that would do them no good. Those little delays would mean the difference between winning and certain death.
3
“Here he comes!”
“He’s here!”
Marc plastered a welcoming expression on his face as the call went through the tired camp. After each team blew their three targets, they immediately went to the next camp down the road, where those teams were preparing for their own runs. They would be fed, tended, and reassigned to yet another target further down 40. Those tired men stayed by the fires, giving him a nod of accomplishment. It was the others in the camp–the new arrivals and camp tag-a-longs–that Marc had to pretend for, but he didn’t feel like shaking hands. He needed sleep.
It would be another three days of hitting base camps and joining these battles before he could break away and join his Eagles. Paul and Jax were doing nicely along the eastern end of 40, according to the reports he was receiving, but Marc needed to see them, needed to be reminded of Safe Haven. All this killing was bad for him. He liked it too much.
4
Just before dawn, Marc was among the small groups going out to do the day’s terrorizing. The others had blown their targets during the night–continuing Marc’s campaign of no sleep for the enemy–and the shadow riders had little trouble sneaking up on the d
ozing men.
Marc waved Kendle into place. She was the lookout for this run. Tomorrow, she would fight at his side.
Marc led his team down the hill, using moldy cactus and decrepit shelters as cover. In the distance was the smoke of fires, and the scent of fresh coffee hung over the area.
Marc drew his weapon as they got closer and knew the others with him were doing the same. They’d gotten very good at following his lead.
Their setup hadn’t been discovered and they quickly pulled the brambles from the thick, stubby tree forks they’d sank into concreted holes a few days ago. With large bands attached, they had half a dozen small, strong slingshots to pummel the enemy with until they figured out where to fire. Across from them, a second team was waiting with the same setup. All these items had come from the surrounding town and Marc was extremely proud of their scrounging.
Marc helped to uncover the stash of ammunition and began loading, listening to the soldiers boot steps as they began their daily march to destroy everything he loved.
Marc dug his heels in and leaned back, using his big arms to pull the band into place. He aimed high, waiting for the others to match it, using head-motions to tell them when the aim was right.
Marc listened, arms protesting, and demon whispered: “Now.”
Marc let go.
The fertilizer bombs caused powerful explosions, though the value of this weapon was in the damage it did to the buildings and structures. It sent debris down into the road in large chunks of smoldering metal and brick. Dust filled the air as the sounds of exploding weapons and screaming men filled their ears.
Marc waited for all of his team to fire their second wave, then followed them out of the area and into the sewer. This was the last town they would use this hiding style in. The soldiers weren’t stupid. By now, they had to be figuring out how the rebels were able to hit and run. Marc had thought even using it one more time might be too much, but he’d had to take the chance. After this, the soldiers had a straight march across 40. He had to do more damage now, while he could.
5
Marc motioned Kendle into place. They were doing a last hit on their own before meeting up with the next camp and she was eager to draw blood again. The disease appeared to leave her alone for almost a full day when she got to commit an act of violence.
As Kendle slipped into place behind the small campfire, it was easier to pretend that it was Angie. There wasn’t a long, black braid or a scent of vanilla, but there was a fire burning that had to have a release.
Marc moved into the next slot, using the debris piles as cover, and he nodded to her when she held up the grenade. It was only a smoker, but the silencer he’d given yesterday was something she hadn’t gotten to play with yet. He had no doubt she would stick around and breathe in the smoke fumes to get in a good run with it.
Kendle tossed the grenade lightly and the wind drafted it right into the middle of the snoozing soldiers.
Smoke poured out and Marc took a cover position as Kendle drew her gun.
The four man team didn’t get to return fire. Kendle was too good for that and Marc had to take her by the arm as the smoke began to fade. The bodies weren’t bloody enough to satisfy her and Marc knew they’d be working out again before bed.
“Come on. We have to go.”
Kendle went reluctantly. Shooting wasn’t as good as stabbing or slicing. She needed that!
Marc tossed an arm around her shoulders, leaning close. “Vanilla is about the best smell in the world to most men.”
Kendle blinked, realizing he was giving her something she could use.
Marc pushed his agenda a little more. “And long hair. The men in Safe Haven love long hair.
Kendle patted her own shoulder-length locks self-consciously and Marc chuckled, tugging her closer. “Not you. You’re one of the guys. I meant as a mate, the future. Hard not to wonder what it might be like if we win.”
Kendle didn’t answer. She was becoming too attached to Marc and she didn’t want to think about a time when she might have to give him up. His comments about smell and hair were noted, though. If he liked those things, later, when she could, she would do them for him. They were small things to ask of her considering how good he was, how right he preferred to be. It made him a strong leader and she was already willing to follow him anywhere. If that eventually led them to his home, she would adjust. And maybe fight for him.
6
Marc rounded the last curve before they got to the camp that Paul and Jax were hopefully still in charge of. The soldiers have driven them back and Marc had been forced to go to their base camp to make sure they were ready now. The troops were coming faster than he could hold them. He didn’t know how many of the other groups had survived.
There were lights glowing from multiple fires, but Marc didn’t understand how many fighters had come until he topped the small rise.
“Wow.”
Kendle’s comment was lost in Marc’s shock. The vast, sprawling camp before them resembled Safe Haven so much that Marc stopped, filled with longing. He missed home.
The riders behind them were also stunned by the sight and a feeling of hope began to swell among these tired men. With this many warriors, they now stood a chance.
Paul was the one to come greet them and the camp fell quiet as they watched. Their gazes were protective, wary, and Marc understood that his rookies had been closely cared for.
“Welcome back,” Paul called, happiness stretching across his bearded face. “You are a sight, my friend.”
Marc laughed, driven to it by the demon’s whispers. “We’re gonna wipe them out.”
Around him, riders cheered.
The noise brought fast attention and the camp of hundreds began making their way toward Marc.
Paul immediately waved them away, raising his voice. “After he gets fed and tended. Let him come to you.”
Marc was grateful when the dozens of shadows stopped and then returned to what they’d been doing–waiting.
“Tell them to have two representatives from every group come to a meeting. We’ll fill in all the details and plans then.”
Paul wrote it down and Marc picked out his clean clothes, the unharmed hands. “They won’t let you work?”
Paul snorted. “They think leadership means sitting on my ass and handing out orders. I hope you’re gonna change that now that you’re here.”
Marc didn’t make any promises and Paul smirked. “It is kinda nice to be able sleep with both eyes closed.”
Paul turned his attention to Kendle, saw her possessive clutch on Marc’s waist, and scowled.
He didn’t say anything, however, and Marc let him off the hook. “Paul, will you take Kendle somewhere she can get cleaned up and eat?”
“I want to stay with you.”
“Paul.”
Paul gently tugged Kendle down, trying to soothe her. “We have a tent ready for both of you and there’s hot water. You can even do your hair if you want.”
Kendle reluctantly allowed herself to be led away.
Marc felt the hunger as Kendle stumbled through the masses of men and the demon lunged out to cover her in protection.
Dark where they were, the glow was obvious, and those closest shrank away in respectful fear as she walked beside Paul.
Satisfied word would spread, Marc turned to the trio now approaching him. “Make sure she has a guard. She gets angry and cannot be controlled.”
“Do you wish me to handle it for you?” Atolius asked tonelessly.
“No. We need her for the fight. Keep her safe.”
“I will put my best men on it.”
Marc went down the hill as they began updating him, but his thoughts were on his army. In these brave men, he would deliver a battle like none the government had ever experienced on this soil. They’d started the War. He would be the one to end it.
7
Marc didn’t waste time or censor his words as he met with the forty men who’d come to repres
ent their groups. He gave them the cold, hard numbers and his outlines for doing damage, sure they’d relay it word for word to their men. He got out of the planning as soon as he could manage, leaving them to figure out the best way to do it. There were too many strangers here and too little time for Marc to try what Adrian had. All he could do was pass his wishes down and depend on his allies to carry them out.
As soon as he left the meeting, Marc went to check on Kendle. His time in Safe Haven had given him a very protective nature, but he also needed to know that she was alive so that his plan was safe. As he walked, acknowledging the other hard-ass men here, Marc wondered if that had been where Adrian had started at with Angela.
Since leaving Safe Haven, Marc had found himself stewing over the spark between her and Adrian–when it had started, and how it had been triggered. He still didn’t have an answer for it, only the final solution of being himself now. His pretenses were gone. He was as open as he’d ever been. And it was likely too late. He could feel her calling, reassuring, but he could also feel her restlessness. When it became too much, she would turn to Adrian for comfort.
And I’ll forgive her, Marc thought, stopping in the shadows to observe. He felt Jax on his heels, eager to be his shadow, and held his pride in check.
Kendle was working with two other women, squaws from what Marc could tell by their demeanor and markings. The trio of females were chatting lightly as they checked through a stack of clothes that had been scavenged in a recent haul. It was surrounded by bags and boxes of supplies that anyone was free to use or add to.
Kendle felt his stare, but didn’t turn around. He’d been stuck with her on the road, but he could leave her with the women now. She wasn’t going to force her company on him any longer.
Marc wondered if she actually understood what the Indians were saying and decided that she did. The survival star he’d viewed had been tough and smart.
“We’ve got tents over there,” Jax stated, pointing toward the dense trees. They both watched Kendle flinch as one of the Apache Indians came over to talk to the other females.