"Will you tell me where the planes are going?"
"Sure, but keep it between you and me. I've made contact with Wright-Patterson AFB in Ohio. It's a thousand miles east of here and the commanding officer is organizing to stand against the invaders."
"Good grief, we're giving up the West?"
Stiles gave a sad shrug. "We ain't gonna win no battles unless we unite, and Wright-Patt is the only military base that's gotten its act together. They're fixin' to fight back and I want to give them the means to do it."
"By sending women and children?"
He shook his head. "No, my friend, by sending the Rattlers."
"What?"
Smiling, Stiles gestured down at the map on the table. It had been torn from a road atlas and showed the whole of the southwest coastal area. Arrows had been drawn in red pen, arrows that converged on Colorado. "Look, Nate, the Deep South is lost. Maybe someone else is fighting somewhere, but if that's the case, they're not slowing the Kimmies up much. The only place I know for a fact is organizing itself to resist is Wright-Patterson and I ain't about to send them three plane-loads of refugees without also givin' them some of our best to help the fight.
"The enemy would be here by now but for the bloody nose you gave them down in Albuquerque. They thought there must be a battalion on the loose to cause that much damage, so they took things cautious. You bought us some time, so we're gonna do the same for you."
Nate still couldn't believe his ears. "But there's only a dozen of us left, what good can we do?"
"I reckon it's time to do a little recruitin'," Stiles said. He reached across to a yellow legal pad and ripped off the front sheet. "Here. It's a list of names—you're to go to each section commander and have him release them to join you on my authority. It brings your number up to fifty once you add in the security at the airport. That ought to be enough to cause a whole heap of trouble out east."
"Who are these people?" Nate responded, scanning down the list.
"The best of the worst, and some so young I couldn't see them die here. They'll be too much of a handful for a sergeant."
Nate's face dropped. "You're putting someone in charge of the Rattlers?"
"No, I'm promoting you," Stiles said, smiling. He picked up something that had lain unnoticed on the table and handed it to Nate. "I'm promoting you to Lieutenant, incorporating the Rattlers as an official unit of the TLX and appointing you as their commander. This has been entered into my official journal and confirmed by my staff. Congratulations, Lieutenant Nathan Woods."
Nathan could think of nothing more to do than to accept the square of cloth with its single bar of silver. "Thank you, General," he said, saluting.
"Make sure those planes get away, Nate, and do us proud out east."
Taking fifty soldiers from a force of, perhaps, two hundred and fifty, was a sore loss and Nathan got plenty of complaints from the section leaders he was stealing from. Surprisingly few of his recruits resisted, however, and he pretty soon worked out what the general had meant by "best of the worst".
He'd begun by taking the existing Rattlers to one side and explaining what was going to happen. He saw the relief spread across their faces as, for the first time in weeks, they felt a surge of hope, and the fear that comes with it. He'd made Jo Teknis a sergeant and promoted Jake to specialist. Su-Mi, already a corporal, refused any further promotion, but took command of one section.
Nate was given two trucks to transport them to Colorado Springs Airport and the closer they got to the airport, the harder it was to pick a way through. Cars had been positioned to slow down approaching vehicles, and the roads were littered with abandoned possessions dropped by panicking refugees running for the airport.
A sour-faced man whose beard had been largely burned off approached the truck as it arrived. "You're here, then," he said. He was dressed in fatigues and wore a sergeant's stripes on his chest but offered no salute.
"What's the situation, Sergeant?" Nathan said as he got down from the cab.
"We got three planes on the tarmac," he responded. His eyes moved from Nathan's face to his chest and widened a little. "Sir."
"Why? The first two should've gone by now."
The man shrugged. "We just can't get the folks to move fast enough."
Nathan's reply was interrupted by a voice at his hip. He took the walkie-talkie and stepped away from the truck, out of earshot of the sergeant.
"This is Alamo, this is Alamo. Enemy sighted. Over."
"This is Rattler 1, acknowledged, over."
"Get your butts out of there, Nathan. Sweet Jesus, they've come in force. Over and out."
"God bless," Woods whispered as he put the unit back and strode back to the sergeant.
"Now you listen to me," he said. "If you don't want your fat ass to be left behind, you'll get everyone aboard in the next twenty minutes. Got that?"
The sergeant shrank back a little from the onslaught. He shook his head. "No way we can do that, sir. It'll take another hour to get them away."
"Teknis!" Nathan bellowed.
Jo Teknis appeared from behind the truck where the Rattlers had been skulking, ran over and saluted.
"Sergeant Teknis, you are now in command of the operation to get the civilians away," he snapped. "If you can find a use for this idiot, then do so, but you've got twenty minutes and not a second more. The enemy's at the gates."
Nathan glanced back at the shaking man with the singed beard who was trapped between protesting at having his authority stripped away—and handed to a woman, no less—and the obvious relief he felt. If ever a man was out of his depth, it was him.
"Yessir," Teknis said. "Can I take a few of the snakes with me?"
"You can have three—I'm going to need the others."
"Snakes?" Burned-Beard managed.
Teknis nodded. "Sure. You're in the hands of the Rattlers, my friend. Now get your butt in gear, we got people to load!"
Nathan had spent fifteen frantic minutes organizing the defense of the airstrip. The trucks had been parked across the access road and the Rattlers had pushed every other vehicle, everything else on wheels, around them to block it. Like the barricade a few miles to the south, it wouldn't hold them back for long, but it didn't need to.
Teknis had hollered and bullied the civilians onto the three planes, and two had taken off already. Nathan, who had been listening to the crackling of gunfire and the boom of heavy weapons from the direction of Stiles' forces, was about to order the Rattlers to make a dash for the final plane which was already on the runway. And then he saw it, floating along the road. Black against the light gray sky. They'd sent a Reaper.
He cursed under his breath. He reckoned, with nearly fifty soldiers, many of them battle hardened, he could take it out. But how many would he lose in the process? And yet, if they turned and ran, the Reaper would surely disable or destroy the final plane with its payload of two hundred civilians.
Somebody had to stay behind.
"Get me the RPG," he said to Su-Mi. When they'd abandoned the Chinese armored personnel carrier, they'd stripped it of weapons. Jake had used one RPG to bring down the drone at Albuquerque.
Su-Mi returned with it but didn't hand it over. "I'll do it. You need to lead the others."
"No way," Nathan said. "I'm not leaving you behind."
Jake appeared behind Su-Mi and snatched the RPG from her, before running off.
"Jake! Come back here!"
"I did it last time," he called as he disappeared behind one of the trucks. "You distract it and I'll get it."
"Go, Nathan," Su-Mi said. "Hundreds are depending on you. We'll handle this."
The black thing floated down the road and Nathan Woods felt the burden of responsibility smothering him. She was right. But to do his duty to the civilians he'd agreed to protect, he would have to allow his friends—one lover and one as good as a son—to sacrifice themselves.
He kissed her and ran across the tarmac to the waiting plane.
&nb
sp; Running up the steps, he bellowed at the woman behind the controls to get the plane moving. If Jake failed, then they had only minutes before the drone would be able to fire on them, and they'd be sitting ducks.
He slumped into the co-pilot's chair as the engines kicked into high revs and the view swung around. As it did so, he saw the barricade they'd built, looking painfully pathetic, and, beyond it, a gray pall rising from the blockade on the highway. The plane straightened up in line with the runway and began to accelerate away. Then, just as the barricade disappeared out of view, there was a flash of light and a column of thick black smoke erupted into the air.
Nathan Woods shielded his eyes. Not from the flames that were now behind them as they accelerated along the runway, but to hide the desolation they brought.
Chapter 15
The children huddled together in the basement, nervously looking from one to the other, silently waiting. As the minutes ticked by, some began fidgeting, others began whispering, until they were hushed by the figure watching them. One of the youngest who was little more than a baby, couldn't be quieted until a bottle was rammed between her lips and the only sound that could then be heard was a rhythmic gulping.
How long had they been down there? Even the watcher didn't know because it was too dark to be able to see a watch face. It felt as though the night must have passed while they sat in the dark, awaiting their release.
Suddenly, a door opened at the top of the stairs and light flooded in. Boots thudded on the wooden steps and all eyes turned to look at the newcomer.
"Well done, children. You were silent for thirty minutes. They were silent, weren't they, Miss Prism?"
All eyes turned to the hawk-like old woman occupying the only chair. Her gaze swept over the waiting children. Some looked straight back at her, while others—generally the transgressors—averted their eyes.
"They were silent," Miss Prism said. And the children cheered.
After a few moments, Bella shushed them. Now, all the attention was on her. "Breakfast is ready in the kitchen. As always, the youngest go first, with their carers, so please be sensible on the stairs."
A hand went up.
"Yes, Clara?"
"Has the Easter Bunny been, Miss Bella?"
Bella smiled. "Yes. You'll all find a chocolate egg beside your bowl…"
A chorus of cheers mixed with screams of excitement erupted. Bella indulged their excitement for a few seconds—they'd had precious little to cheer about in recent months by all accounts—before quieting them again. "But you are to eat your oats and scrambled eggs first. Mr. Arnold and Jaxon are up there to supervise. Now, off you go."
As one, the children got to their feet and began climbing the stairs at a sensible pace as the adults watched. Running feet on the floor above, however, showed that their excitement could only be contained for so long.
Miss Prism came to join her as she followed the last of the children up the steps.
"Were they silent?" Bella asked.
"As much as could be asked for. Though how they'll react if we're under attack, I can't possibly say. But they deserve their little treat. It would have broken my heart to be the cause of them missing out on their first chocolate since Christmas."
Bella smiled at the old woman. "Oh, I don't think there was ever much chance of that. The stakes were too high. Heaven only knows when they'll get to have their next chocolate fix."
When Bella made it back to her cottage by the creek, Steve was in the kitchen serving up a plate of fried eggs and thick-cut bread to a half-asleep Maddie.
"How did it go?" he asked as Bella slumped down at the table.
"As well as it could, really," she responded. "All seems a bit futile, though. I mean, if the farmhouse is attacked, they're going to look in the basement eventually."
Skulls shrugged. "Yeah, but at least the kids'll be out of the way of any collateral damage."
"I suppose it's better than nothing."
"As long as you don't expect me to go down there with them," Maddie said.
"You certainly will, young lady," Bella snapped, instantly regretting her tone. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired. And, to be honest, I don't like thinking about it. But you need to be in the safest place."
"You just said it was futile!"
Bella reached across the table, but Maddie drew back. "Please, Maddie. Do as we ask."
"Do as you ask, you mean."
"Steve agrees with me—don't you, Steve?"
Bella saw his shoulders drop before he turned from the stove, frying pan in hand. "Well, I kinda don't, to be honest. There won't be no safe place if they come, and we could sure do with an extra pair of hands to fight them off. We got plenty of guns, but not near enough to shoot them."
She went to protest, but couldn't think of a single thing to say, so she rubbed her eyes and got up to look out of the window. "Then let's hope they don't find us," she said.
The herald of doom arrived two days later. A car approached the checkpoint on the creek lane, coming to a halt fifty yards away. Jaxon began walking up the road, but the car turned around—almost running into the river as it did so—and hightailed it back the way it had come. The driver had been wearing the distinctive black uniform of the Lee Corporation.
Within hours, the people from the Fordhams' place had been brought across to the farmhouse, and Bella's cottage had been abandoned. The farmhouse was full to the seams, and the children railed against the lack of space, so they were allowed out as guards watched from their positions behind attic windows.
The following day, two grocery trucks drove into the lane outside the farmhouse and a couple of dozen figures jumped out. Some wore black, others were dressed in civilian clothes, all were armed. One, in a black uniform, walked up to the farmhouse with his hands raised.
Bella, Skulls and Jaxon went to meet the stranger who seemed momentarily surprised to see them.
"Who are you, and what is your business here?" Bella demanded as they stood a few yards apart.
"My name is Daniel Cruickshank. Your property is now within territory under the control of the Lee Corporation. You will be evacuated to a safe place. Please prepare to leave."
"We were pretty safe here until you arrived," Skulls said.
Cruickshank looked up at Skulls, who was a foot taller and about that much wider than him. "We know that this location was used as an Army base by a unit under the command of the renegade government in DC. Anyone remaining here, therefore, is an enemy of the Lee Corporation and, believe me, you do not want us as your enemy."
"We need to discuss this," Bella said.
"You have one hour," Cruickshank replied, and if he'd had a moustache, he'd have twirled it as he turned to walk away.
Bella's father, Al, came panting in through the front door as the war council was convened in the living room.
"Where have you been?" Bella cried, leaping up in relief.
"I had some stuff to fetch from the Millhouse. Luckily, I saw those shmendriks before they saw me, so I cut across the fields and into the woods. Just as well I know where the booby traps are."
"You should," Skulls said. "You installed them. Did you see anything that might be useful?"
Al's wrinkled face darkened. "Uh huh. There's a Reaper in the back of one of the trucks."
"Oh my God," Bella said. "They'd bring one of those things to attack a farmhouse with children in it?"
"It's probably there as an insurance policy," Arnold said, his dark face full of concern. "If we put up a fight, they'll use it."
"And if we don't put up a fight, what then?" Bella said.
Skulls said, "We know what the endgame is, don't we? Solly and Scott said the Lee Corporation wants everyone under their jackboot. They want to install that there upgrade and turn us all into slaves."
"At least we'd be alive," Arnold said.
Bella shook her head. "No. Scott was clear on that. His freaky wife wanted everyone to die. She did a pretty good job of it on the Long Night, and now
she is using the Lee Corporation to finish it. They think they're enslaving us but, as soon as they've finished, she'll flick a switch and we'll all drop down dead—us, the Lee Corporation's people, the Chinese and the North Koreans. America will be the land of the dead and, for all I know, she's got plans for the rest of the world too."
Ross, who'd been looking out of the window, said, "You're right. Either way we lose. If we fight them, we might die today, if we surrender, then we'll be enslaved and, in a few days or weeks, we'll drop dead. But you're forgetting Solly and Alison. They'll be in Louisville by now and, if their plan pays off, the Reapers won't work anymore. Isn't that what they said?"
"Yes," Bella said. "If we think Solly and the others will succeed, and soon, then we should fight. If we don't, or we think they'll fail, then we should surrender so the children get a little more time."
Maddie got up from the table and squeezed into the armchair next to a surprised Ross. "I think we should have faith in Dad," she said, as she snuggled closer.
"There's another reason why we should fight," Jaxon said.
"What's that?"
He slammed his fist on the table. "Cos we might win! I'm with Ross and Maddie. I say we give them the middle finger."
"But we can't beat the Reaper," Bella said.
Skulls took her hand. "Maybe we can at that," he said, looking across at Al.
When the hour expired, they told Cruickshank they needed time to prepare the children. Again, he couldn't hide his surprise. So, his team had simply stumbled across the farmhouse. They knew nothing of its history or its connection to the resistance, or the fact that Alison had been tracked to a mile from here. Cruickshank, who'd thought he would be bringing in a family or small community, now had the prospect of a truck full of children. It would probably be his biggest ever haul.
Showdown: Book 6 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival series: (The Long Night - Book 6) Page 12