Homeland Defense (Sundown Apocalypse Book 3)

by Leo Nix

  “I don't take orders from your lackey, Russell, call your dog off.” He knew he wasn't in a position to bargain with Rommel, but he knew he could bully the general easily enough.

  “Don't look to the general for support, Wilson, he's the one who gave you the orders.” Rommel snapped to attention as his general opened his eyes. He saluted with the stiff armed Nazi salute. “Begging your pardon, sir! I've forgotten my manners. It seems to me that these Wilson's need to be taught a lesson, sir.”

  By now General Himmler was back in control of himself. The Wilsons always got under his skin. “Thank you Colonel, I'll take it from here.” He paused and drew a deep breath, “Kelvin, the Revelationist Church requires you to fulfil your obligations, and to provide one tenth of your force to my farm managers in Hawker. You are hereby ordered to produce thirty cattlemen, with two horses apiece and their gear, by lunch time tomorrow. Any more arguments and I'll include you and your son's in the call-up to fight against the Birdsville commando.”

  He turned his back and walked out of the door with Colonel Rommel, leaving a fuming Kelvin alone in the church presbytery.

  The Wilson's received only the single radio call that afternoon from Brad's vengeance squad. It was a call to say they were in a fire-fight just on the edge of the Arkaroola wilderness. When he heard that Brad hadn't returned, or answered any of the Wilson's radio calls, Greg lost it.

  “They're my cousins! I bet Riley's ambushed them, they're probably all dead,” he cried in despair at the night sky, “I want revenge and I want it now!”

  'He's drunker than a priest at a Roman orgy,' thought Laurie, as he awkwardly tried to avoid eye contact.

  “Laurie, mate,” said Greg, as he sidled over and sat next to him by the camp fire, “you know that Riley bloke don't you? You know where he lives and where he might be hiding out, don't you?” he slurred, his breath stank of whiskey.

  “Tomorrow we're going there together. You and me. We're going to find my cousin's and then we're going to fix Riley and his missus up good and proper.”

  Laurie shivered in the cool night air, he answered in resignation, “Sure, Greg, tomorrow we'll go and visit Riley.”

  They were up by dawn. Jack had already sent his ten cattlemen to the church collection point in Hawker. He now had the ordeal of trying to muster his cattle and sheep with the absolute minimum staff he needed. Not only did he need to move his animals off over-grazed pastures to fresh ones, but he needed men to hunt down the dingo's and wild dogs, that killed his calves and lambs. Jack was in a foul mood and waved Greg away with his hand.

  “Piss off, Greg, I don't care, do what you want. And yes, you can take Laurie with you. Make sure you're back by tomorrow night.” He had a thought and turned back to his nephew. “That Katie's a good sort. Kill Riley and the kids but bring her back. I'll make good use of her myself. If she doesn't cooperate I can use her for trade. And Greg, don't let me down now will you?” He lifted his eyebrows, a cruel smile played across his lips.

  “I sure won't, uncle. You don't mind if I take care of that Katie myself before I pass her over?” He chuckled as he climbed into his truck and signalled for Laurie to join him.

  “Just don't damage the goods,” Jack called then turned back to his men and continued giving out the orders of the day.

  The two cattlemen made good time and were at Riley's burnout farm house by lunch time. They took a break in the shade where Greg pulled out a bottle of whiskey and put it to his lips.

  “Here Laurie, help yourself. I brought enough for the two of us.” He handed the bottle over, Laurie took a pull then handed it back.

  “I'd better not drink any more, Greg. I've got an ulcer and it's merry hell inside my guts,” he said softly.

  “Yeah, whatever, all the more for me.” Greg continued to drink heavily while Laurie built a fire and cooked some bacon and eggs.

  “We'll follow the tracks and find where Brad headed off to. Then we'll search Arkaroola village, I have a feeling Riley might have hidden his family there.” Having made his plans he lay back and pulled his hat over his face. Within a minute he was snoring, sound asleep.

  Laurie was in a quandary. He hated Greg, hated his brothers and cousins too. He had a deep desire to kill this Wilson and somehow escape with his family, to go somewhere safe where they'll never find him. But the Wilson's had his wife and three children prisoner. Everyone who worked for the Wilson's had their family brought into the compound. Not that Jack Wilson said they were prisoners as such, they still attended school and church services every day. But if he walked in there and packed them into his truck and tried to drive out, they'd stop him. There was no way he could escape the Wilsons without help, or without killing everyone.

  He fingered his knife as he looked across at Greg, snoring, not two metres away. 'I could easily slit that pig's throat right now. It'd save me doing it later,' he thought. But Laurie wasn't a murderer, he'd never harmed anyone in his life.

  Laurie hated bullies having been the victim of the Wilson family since childhood. The only way he survived was by rolling over and doing everything they asked of him. He made a good 'yes' man and was ashamed of himself. 'What sort of man am I to let these bastards bully me, my family and my friends?'

  His only friend during childhood was a fat kid the Wilsons bullied mercilessly. He still remembered his name, it was Fat Bastard. Laurie had a crush on his little sister, Blondie, and even tried to befriend her but Fat Bastard ordered him to stay away from her. Not long after that his puppy-love was crushed when Fat Bastard bashed Brad senseless and escaped into the Northern Territory with his sister.

  It was only a week later he met another beauty, his wife. They'd been married twelve years now and he still felt a warmth flow into his chest at the very thought of her.

  In resignation he finished cooking and cleaned up. Laurie then pulled his hat over his face and joined Greg in their lunch-time siesta.

  They followed the Range Rover tracks to the gully and like most outback cattlemen, Greg expertly interpreted the story the tracks told. They went up onto the rock ledge and saw the empty cartridges and dried pools of blood. Greg thought long and hard.

  “Bastards ambushed our boys, look at the number of cartridges here. See, AK's and these big bastards, what sort of rifle is that?” he asked of no-one in particular. “Must be a hunting rifle, maybe one of those Belgian ones, expensive by the looks of it.” He continued walking around and then examined the fireplace and the horse tracks.

  “These are ours, look that's Patsy and there's Domino. They've taken them away somewhere and hidden them. OK, come on back down and we'll look for bodies, shouldn't be hard to find, there's plenty of drag marks.”

  When Laurie saw the marks converge he called Greg over. “Look, they've been dragged over that ridge there, we'd better prepare ourselves, Greg.”

  When they topped the rise they looked down and saw the bodies. Some had been pulled apart from the others and badly mauled by wild dogs.

  “Bastards, they killed the lot of them!” Greg roared at the now darkening sky.

  “Come on, Greg, we'll head back to the car and set up camp then bury them tomorrow. It's too dark to do that now,” suggested Laurie, his hand on Greg's shoulder.

  “No!” Greg shouted, flinging Laurie's hand away. “We'll bury them now. Tomorrow we'll go hunt down those pricks and screw them over like Jack said. Get the shovels.”

  The next morning they rose to frost on the ground. Laurie had the fire lit and was boiling the billy for tea. He noticed Greg was unsteady on his feet as he staggered and sat heavily in the camp chair.

  “We'll have something to eat, then head straight to Arkaroola village. I'm pretty certain they're hiding out there. It's the best place around, no one there now so they'll feel safe.” He dragged out another bottle of whiskey and started drinking.

  On the way Greg continued to drink, he held his powerful hunting rifle between his legs.

  “This little beauty will do the trick.” He he
ld up his Ruger American bolt action. “Uncle Jack gave this to me when I took care of a bunch of rustlers with Brad. Some of the boys from up the Northern Territory way thought they could help themselves to our cattle. Brad and I caught them skinning one. While Brad kept an eye on them with his rifle, I busted them good with me fists. You should have seen the state of their faces when I'd finished with them.”

  He laughed, “They never came anywhere near the Flinders after that. I heard they went back to Darwin, or somewhere.” Greg had a gleam in his eye and looked at Laurie, who carefully kept his eyes steady on the washed-out dirt track.

  “When we get that honey, Katie, I'll hand my rifle over to you. You do what Brad did for me and I'll look after you, mate,” he said smiling, he took another drink and emptied the bottle. Laurie didn't reply.

  It was just before midday when they saw Arkaroola in the distance, nestled in a small valley among the wild, tortured ranges. Laurie stopped the car and they both looked around.

  “OK, drive right up to that junction behind the rocks there, we'll get out and walk the rest of the way. We don't want to telegraph we're visiting, especially if Riley and his cousins are there waiting for us,” ordered Greg.

  As they approached, Greg cried softly, “Stop!” he grabbed at his rifle and started to get out of the car. “I saw someone over there, near the old copper smelter. It looked like a girl, come on.”

  Laurie froze, his eyes glazed as he began to hyperventilate in fear. 'Is it Katie? Is this really happening?' he asked himself in a rising panic. 'I can't let him do it. I can't let him kill and rape my friends.' He was starting to panic.

  They quietly walked towards where Greg had seen the girl. As they closed on the abandoned, stone building, they could hear rifle fire.

  “Huh? That's automatics, sounds like AK's. We'd better find a sniping position and wait it out.” Greg looked around and saw a perfect position beside a rocky outcrop, and waved for Laurie to follow.

  Laurie's ears were ringing, his blood pressure was up and his blood sugar crashing as he entered a full-blown panic attack.

  It was only a matter of minutes before the firing stopped and a group of teenagers walked out of the old, stone building. Each had a bandoleer of ammunition and automatic rifles slung over their shoulders. Neither Laurie nor Greg recognised any of them but Greg settled down to kill them anyway.

  “Oh, yeah!” he whispered in pleasure as he leaned his rifle barrel on the rock to steady it. “I reckon we can take out those three boys, and then we run up and grab the girls while they're still in shock. Get ready.”

  Again Laurie felt a wave of nausea and dizziness, he began to dissociate. A state of panic and disbelief washed over and into him.

  'This is not happening.' His head was spinning and he acted out of sheer desperation. Without thinking he threw himself at his boss and the sound of the rifle shot crashed against the walls of the gully.

  They wrestled to the ground. Laurie was like a madman with an entire lifetime of humiliation behind his drive to kill this rotten man. But Greg had years of fighting experience. The bully's urge to have those teenage girls drove power into his limbs.

  At the sound of the rifle shot the group jumped in fright. Luke immediately leaped behind a large rock with his rifle ready. Simon waved for the girls and Arthur to get into the scrub and run back to the village.

  “Heidi, you look after them! Move up the hill, get to high ground as fast as you can.” When Heidi hesitated he said, “Don't worry about us, we're trained warriors.”

  Simon crouched behind one of the large rocks strewn around the landscape like a child's lego set.

  “Heidi! Take Annie, I'm staying!” cried Lucy as she flicked the safety off her AK and slipped in a magazine of ammunition. She crouched down beside Simon and levelled her weapon to peer through it's scope.

  After a few seconds Luke called out, “Look, down there, there's someone fighting. They're wrestling on the ground. You stay here Simo, I'll check it out. Cover me.” Simon nodded and set his sights on the two he could now clearly see in his scope.

  Lucy looked and she too found the fighters amongst the dust they were making. They wrestled, locked together like two fighting bull-ants.

  The two men struggled on the ground kicking up dust and stones with their flailing feet until Laurie finally forced one hand free and clawed at Greg's face. Greg twisted his torso and together they rolled over and over among the sharp rocks and spinifex grass. Luke could now hear there muted grunts as he carefully edged closer.

  The fighter's heaving lungs desperately tried to suck in enough oxygen to propel their limbs in the dry heat. In a single moment of opportunity, Laurie swung his fist at his enemy's head. But Greg had fought a hundred battles, each just as vicious as this one. His knife was already in his hand.

  As Laurie lifted his fist Greg plunged his blade into his back with such force that it penetrated between his ribs and into his heart.

  Laurie stiffened, groaned, then collapsed on top of him. The Wilson bully shook him off then stood up. As he did he saw Luke walking carefully towards him.

  Jack Wilson's nephew was fast. In a single, fluid movement, he brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired.

  Chapter 5 - Sundown - Blondie's Revenge

  The morning ride would normally be an enjoyable one for the two bikers. The air was cool and there was no wind. The road surface, though dirt, was reasonably compact and still good enough to ride on at speeds up to a hundred kph. Fat Boy had been riding bikes since childhood and rode like he was on the Dakar Rally. In fact, he and Blondie were raised riding bikes. Doing petty crime and trafficking drugs through deserted state border crossings.

  Their father was a patched member of an outlaw bikie gang in Queensland. He enjoyed the pleasures of many a freebie, be it bike, women, drugs or property. But one thing he never took for granted was his children, he loved them with a passion.

  When their father died the two were not yet in their teens. They were callously dumped on the doorstep of their father's family by the local community services. There they fell victim to the abuse and brutalisation at the hands of their beloved cousins, the Wilson's of the Flinders Ranges.

  Fat Boy was forced to protect his little sister from the predators within their own family. At the age of fourteen, already six foot tall and the same wide, he was pushed too far and beat cousin Brad to a pulp. That put a stop the older boys sexual assaults on himself, and his little sister.

  When he joined the bikie gang, not even the gang members of higher rank, no one, messed with Fat Bastard or his 'girlfriend', Blondie. He had a nasty temper and when he 'cracked it' no one was safe.

  Fat Boy developed a reputation as an enforcer and earned the role of Sergeant-at-arms in his father's gang. When things went bad at the club he bashed a few heads as payback and joined another gang in Queensland.

  The siblings found that the best way to stop any unwanted attention for Blondie was to pretend to be lovers.

  Blondie took to loathing men after her experiences with the Wilson's - and their friends. She hated the men she was forced to hang around with in the bikie gangs too. For the siblings to act like lovers was easy enough, they really did care for each other. The two were as close as siblings could be. The only stability they had in life was each other. Where Fat Boy went Blondie followed.

  It didn't hurt when Blondie scored some modelling work and started to make a decent income, but once again the advances from the 'arse-holes I work for' meant she was forever changing jobs.

  Many a time Fat Boy would step in to advise would-be admirers to back off. Now at six foot four inches tall and the same wide, Fat Boy rarely had problems with men trying to bully him or his sister. And he could fight, his father made sure of that.

  Every year they would travel to another town and another job, until one day they met a Revelationist church representative, Walter, in South Australia. Like most other criminals, Fat Boy recognised a fellow conman in his church contact, and
they hit off a strong friendship.

  One day Walter told him that he needed to find several isolated farm properties, for his church members to lease for their special training programs. Fat Boy soon learned what those training programs were. But, heck, who cared anyway, these idiots wouldn't amount to much more than a nuisance, or so he thought.

  Walter introduced them to the Tajna Služba, the church's secret service. They were considered very much like the sinister Gestapo of the Nazi regime. This was their big break. It gave them muscle and access to the hard hitting church leaders, politicians, and the circle of power controlling the world-wide Revelationist Church.

  They were inducted into the Tajna Služba and quickly gained a reputation as the go-to's when the church needed dirty deeds done. Neither backed away from extortion, kidnapping, prostitution, assassination… you name it Blondie and Fat Boy did it, and they did it properly.

  Blondie seemed to excel in this corrupt underworld and was soon called upon to run missions of a political nature. With her attractive model looks and her analytical brain, Blondie worked her way to the top of the Tajna Služba in Australia and south-east Asia. Her reputation within church circles was a hushed secret, but the name 'Tajna Služba' eventually became synonymous with a beautiful, blond-haired assassin in the night.

  Church preachers would threaten their congregation that if they didn't participate willingly in their training, the 'Tajna Služba' would drop in to visit them one night. The vision of a gorgeous, blond-haired assassin became a titillating tradition within the church.

  Fat Boy specialised in organising special training venues throughout country Australia. He enjoyed convincing farmers and local politicians to cooperate. It helped when he could easily conjure willing women, boys and girls, money and anything else he needed to get the job done. Fat Boy was often seen riding his Harley-Davidson along outback roads to spend a few nights with his many friends. Even the Wilson's of the Flinders Ranges participated, willingly, in offering their properties for the church's use.