Bloody Eden (Soldiers of New Eden Book 2)

by T. L. Knighton

  He shook his head, trying to clear it. Slowly, his focus returned. He took a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling.

  "Alright, you two. I'm good. Get back in there. Get me a count on the enemy."

  "Yes, sir," one of the men said before turning and heading back toward the front. He wasn't sure what the hell had happened, but he couldn't allow it to happen again. Weakness was not to be tolerated. He didn't tolerate it from anyone, and definitely not himself.

  Don't worry, Calvin. I'll get to you soon enough. You, that shitball town you call home, all of it. You stepped in it and I'm going to enjoy making you suffer.

  People like Calvin had always pissed him off. He knew nothing about the other man's background, yet he knew everything. Smart, probably one of those people who had everything growing up. Conklin hated pricks like that.

  He examined his lines, his men. His men. These men were loyal to Conklin. They didn't care about how little he had growing up. They were real men. Not pricks like Calvin. Oh, he knew Calvin laughed at him, probably knew what he'd grown up with and mocked him because of it.

  No, his men would never do that. Utterly loyal. Victory always made men loyal. He was determined to give them another one. He'd destroy his nemesis, then indenture everyone left in that town.

  The thought gave him a smile. The next few days were going to be long, but what would come next would be worth the wait.

  ** ** **

  "We're going to have to pull back," Jason yelled.

  "Ya think?" Latham asked as he changed a magazine.

  "Well, if we kill all of them, the other teams are going to get kind of pissed, you know?"

  "Oh, well, we wouldn't want that, now would we," Latham said before rolling his eyes.

  Mark Hernandez ducked down behind Jason. Around the three men, splinters rained down as enemy fire reduced the mighty pine trees into toothpicks. "Need any?" he asked, holding out magazines.

  Jason grabbed a handful and stuffed them into pouches on his tactical vest. Mark threw some to Latham one at a time. The man snatched them deftly out of the air and stuffed them into his own vest.

  "Mark," Jason said, "I need you to pass the word for everyone to get ready to haul ass."

  Hernandez nodded, then took off down the line.

  "Think he'll survive to tell anyone?" Latham asked.

  Jason shrugged. "I'm not completely sure I'm going to survive to give the damn order." He brought the rifle up and fired. The round slammed into the chest of a Somerton soldier.

  His men were slowing down, conserving ammo. Mark was running as much as he could, but he couldn't be everywhere.

  Meanwhile, Conklin seemed to have half of Somerton out there with him. He'd estimated at least a thousand, if not two. He'd broken his men into three teams, about a hundred each. Twenty to one odds make for awesome stories, but in real life? Yeah, they suck.

  Another Somerton man showed his face, but that was all. Jason's earlier anxiety was gone. He settled the front site on the man, right between the eyes. He carefully squeezed the trigger. The AR bucked against him as the round zipped across the hundred or so yards. The man dropped out of sight. For several minutes, he took aim and fired. He couldn't help but remember footage from Vietnam his father made him watch. One man in a trench held up his M-16 and unleashed with it, fully automatic, not even looking at the enemy. The joys of unlimited supplies, Jason thought.

  Kind of wish I could do that too, now that I think about it.

  Finally, Jason was sure everyone would be ready. He pressed against the throat mic and said, "Team one, Ohio. I say again, Ohio."

  At the top of his lungs, he yelled, "Ohio!" since not everyone had a radio. Up and down the line, he heard other men call out the same thing.

  Their rate of fire intensified as men began a fighting retreat. Enemy fire slacked off as the men pulled back.

  Soon they found themselves jogging through the woods, sporadic gunfire behind them as the harassers did their jobs. For several miles, they moved as quickly as they could until they made it to the road. From here, the road wasn't the most direct route to New Eden, but it was the most level and therefore the fastest way there.

  "Thunder!" a voice challenged.

  "Flash," someone responded.

  Heads popped up from the brush to either side of the road. Al Holliman jogged up to Jason. "We're in good position here. How far are they?"

  "Not sure. We've got some skirmishers trying to make them think twice about coming on, so it might be a little while."

  Holliman nodded and smiled. "We'll be ready for them."

  "Good. There's at least a thousand, probably more. Make them bleed, but don't get stupid about it."

  "We won't."

  As Jason and his people pushed on, they ran into Yancey's team. The friendly man had apparently been an officer in Conklin's military at one point, and knew most of these men from there. It made sense to put him in charge. There's been no word from the skirmishers, but that wasn't particularly surprising. Their orders had been to peel off and make it to this direction as best they could. At least they knew the challenges and responses.

  A few more miles, they found a spot at the base of two mountains. Jason quickly surveyed the area and declared this the perfect spot. Latham took half the men onto one of the mountain slopes, Jason taking the other half to the other slope.

  The next several hours involved building fighting positions. It wouldn't necessarily stop the rounds, but it would hide them and make it difficult to figure out where to aim. Anything that could give them an edge would be welcomed.

  Jason and Scott both had been careful of where to place their positions. There had to be enough ground cover that their positions would not only look natural, but that the growth would also conceal their withdrawal.

  Latham moved over the road, meeting Jason in the middle. "Got something for ya."

  "What's that?"

  Latham smiled. "My mad bomber?"

  "Yeah?" Jason asked cautiously.

  "He's got some surprises he wants to set for our friend."

  "There's more of that dynamite?"

  Latham nodded.

  "And he carried that old, nasty stuff with him?"

  Latham nodded again.

  "Why isn't he dead?"

  "He says dying would make his in-laws way to happy."

  "Fair enough. What's he got in mind?"

  "About a mile down the road, set a trip wire after the last of the teams makes it by."

  Jason thought about it for a moment, but his gut reaction never changed. "Tell him to do it, but as soon as it's set, he's to get his ass back here. Copy?"

  Latham nodded. "He's also got something else in mind."

  "Do I really want to know?"

  He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But I think it's a hell of an idea."

  "What?"

  Latham outlined what the resident explosives expert wanted to do with his old dynamite. Considering how volatile that stuff could be, he tended to want to support anything that would mean they weren't carrying it over bumpy mountain roads.

  On the other hand, what Latham was suggesting could be risky for them. Still, if it was done right… "Alright, get it done. Just make sure everyone knows what the hell is going on. We don't need anyone starting the party early."

  Latham nodded, then turned and headed back.

  Jason went back to his position and settled in. Team leaders set up a watch schedule. The three day trip to New Eden might take longer, but so be it. If they were lucky, Conklin would get tired of this crap and go home.

  He wasn't holding his breath.

  The minutes ticked by, the sun making its way across the sky. Hours had passed when he got word the skirmishers had made it back. Most of them, anyways. Of the ten men chosen, eight made it back.

  Another couple of hours, most of which Jason spent asleep, Holliman's group came by. They'd been challenged, but responded.

  Jason went down the hill to mee
t up with the other leader. "Get a good count?" he asked.

  "More like fifteen hundred, but we figure it was closer to two when you made contact. I'm not sure how many there now, but Yancey'll give you a count when he come by."

  "Good. Head on out, get set up, get some rest, all that."

  Holliman nodded.

  More time passed. Men were getting antsy, waiting having a worse impact on them than the actual fighting. When Yancey's team passed, it was almost a relief. At least something would be happening soon.

  No one slept now. No one talked. No one did anything more than breath until the boom rattled throughout the mountains. Jason smiled. All he thought about was Jess.

  Still more waiting. Jason's stomach felt like it was prom night all over again. Nervous anticipation rather than the near crippling anxiety from earlier.

  The narrow valley the road ran through gave him a good view, good enough to see Conklin's men moving forward. Cautiously.

  Slowly, the enemy moved down the road. Conklin had flankers out, trying to spook them into acting too soon. "Don't jump. That's what they're trying to force, so don't make the son of a bitch's day," he whispered into the mic.

  With each tentative step Conklin's men made, Jason's nervousness grew. He tried to will it away, only to feel it continue to grow.

  Finally, everything was ready. Jason aimed and fired, dropping a Somerton man in his tracks.

  Like before, the world erupted into chaos as the round flew with deadly precision. Conklin's men returned fire in an instant, now warier than they had been in the first fight.

  Fire came fast and heavy from the numerically superior force. Their barricade was being chewed to pieces. Jason cursed under his breath. "Idaho. I say again, Idaho."

  He didn't like pulling back this quickly, but he couldn't afford to keep dealing with this rate of fire. They were ready this time. "Idaho," he yelled, his called echoed down the line.

  As the pulled back, he took a quick look. From what he could tell, they'd bled him just a bit more. Not as much as he'd have liked, but he'd take what he could get.

  Chapter 18

  For three days, Rick has pushed them. Hard. As the houses of New Eden came into view, he finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

  Billy stood outside of town, a battered AK in his hands.

  "Hold up here. Let me go talk to him," Rick said.

  Stewart, the driver, nodded.

  Rick walked up to his father's friend. "Fifteen New Eden residents wanting to see their families," he said.

  The big man smiled. "Good to see you back. Your dad?"

  "He's out there, putting a hurt on the son of a bitch. At least, that's what he's trying to do."

  The deputy nodded. "Know which way they're coming?"

  Rick nodded. "Too bad we don't have a militia anymore."

  Billy smiled. "Well…" He outlined to Rick what all had happened since they'd been gone. The young man smiled. There was no joy in it, only feral anticipation.

  "How long to get ready?"

  "It's ready now. Get fed, cleaned up, for God's sake see your sister, and we can head out."

  "Will do."

  ** ** **

  Four days of fighting were taking their toll. Jason's feet drug the ground with each step. They were all exhausted.

  The three teams were now down to two. Yancey had been shot and taken on to New Eden for medical care. Jason didn't know how much longer they could hold out.

  Jason collapsed next to a fallen tree. "I don't know how much more we've got," he said.

  Latham and Holliman nodded. Conklin wasn't some incompetent. No, he was good. His men adjusted to changing tactics quickly. They'd already lost a third of their number. While Conklin might have lost a similar percentage, he had a lot more to start with.

  "You pushing back?"

  Jason took a look around. "No. We can't. We're five miles or so from New Eden."

  "Eden Two to Eden One," the radio squawked, Rick's voice calling him.

  Jason's eyes widened in surprise. The other two men exchanged looks with one another.

  "Eden One. Go ahead,"

  "What's your status?"

  "Tired as hell," he answered frankly. So far, there hadn't been any indication that Conklin's men were listening to their radio traffic, and Jason was just too tired to try to disassemble.

  "Understood. Our paranoid friend has you on camera. We're bringing some help, but it'll be a little while." So Milton was watching them. Made sense. They weren't that far from his place.

  "How long?"

  "A few hours. Your pursuit is about an hour away from you at current pace, so you'll need to hold for about two. Can you hold?"

  Jason nodded, then caught himself. "We can, but we can't afford for the militia to waste themselves. Evacuate New Eden."

  "Just hold. Trust me," Rick said.

  "Will do," Jason answered.

  "Think there's a chance he'll bring enough help?"

  Jason shook his head. "I don't see how. The militia got their asses handed to them in the raid. There's not enough left."

  "So what's the plan?" Latham asked.

  "Well….I'm too damn tired to run. We've got an hour. The mountain slopes are pretty steep right here."

  "Uh…yeah? Your point?" Latham looked at Holliman, confused.

  "Gentlemen? This is Thermopylae."

  Holliman seemed to consider it for a few moments before nodding.

  Latham, in contrast, seemed to understand immediately. He smiled broadly. "Not a bad way to go, is it?"

  "Not quite what I want, but hell…I never thought I'd last this long."

  Mark Hernandez walked up. "Anyone need ammo?"

  Jason nodded. The other man began handing him magazines. Hernandez was one of many ammo runners right now, always ducking just beyond the enemy's sight to reload on ammo, then back into the fray.

  "Finish passing out what you've got," Jason said, "then head into New Eden. Understood?"

  Mark shook his head. "I can't do that. I just can't."

  "You've got a family in there."

  Mark looked at him defiantly. "So do you."

  True enough, but still…

  "Doesn't matter. I'm passing the same order for all the ammo runners. Just get all the ammo passed around within the next forty-five minutes, then bug the hell out." Jason rubbed his weary eyes.

  Hernandez looked at the three men. "Why?"

  Jason took a deep breath. He needed to find the right words. "Because this is it, Mark. This is it. Welcome to the Alamo. Welcome to Bastogne." Jason realized he'd been speaking louder than he meant to, fatigue screwing up his judgment. A crowd began to form around them. Ah, shit.

  "Beyond here?" he said, his voice now intentionally loud enough. "Beyond here are farms. Small homesteads that consider themselves part of New Eden. Beyond that is the town itself. A few thousand people who wanted nothing more than to be left alone. But that wasn't good enough for Conklin.

  "He thought he could just take what he wanted. So he took Mark and his family. He took fifteen of our people for God knows what. He started a fight that we didn't want.

  "Well, we're fighting now. My son says help is on the way. We just have to hold out. Can we? Who the hell knows. What I do know is that I'm not about to just roll over and let those people who live past this point find themselves at the tender mercies of Terry Conklin and his people.

  "He's hurt too many people. Here we hurt him. Now, we make him feel all the pain he's inflicted on others. This," Jason said, drawing a line in the soft Tennessee soil, "is the line in the sand. It's not proverbial anymore. It's literal, and he will not set one foot across this line so long as I draw a single breath."

  Jason looked around. Fear seemed to grip the souls of many of the men. He could certainly understand why, but he meant what he'd said. He knew there was more to say though.

  "Look, I know you're scared. You'd have to be an idiot not to be. But this is the kind of thing that become
s legend. Terry Conklin and his regime will fall. He will answer for his crimes. When he does, people for ages on will look to this day. 'That was the day,' they'll say, 'when brave men stood against a monster.' In their mind, we all would have died here. They're wrong.

  "No, we'll live on. As long as someone remembers us, we will live on. Long after Terry Conklin is burning in Hell, we'll live on. He'll become a symbol of all that is wrong with this new world we live in. Us though? We will be immortal!" Jason finished, expecting triumphant applause. Instead, he was met with silence.

  Not quite the response I had in mind. I mean, it was cheesy as hell, but still… Internally, he cringed. It hadn't been enough. He'd probably gone overboard on that last line, but it seemed like the thing to do. New Eden was dead, and it was because he couldn't rally the troops.

  A moment later, a head nodded. Then another, and another. More and more joined in, then someone began clapping. That too was taken up en mass.

  Jason exhaled in relief.

  The men stopped their applause and shouts. "Alright," Jason said, "We've got less than an hour before that son of a bitch is at our door steps. Get to work. We can rest when all this is over."

  The men dispersed and got to work. Jason turned to look around. Holliman stared back at him, a goofy smile on his face. "What?" Jason asked.

  "You actually believe that shit?"

  He shrugged. "More or less."

  "Oh?"

  "Well, I believe we're going to die here, so there's that."

  Holliman nodded. "But we'll be immortal?"

  "What? If they're dead, they'll never know if I'm right or not, now will they?"

  Holliman nodded. "So now what?"

  "Well, we're going to park our asses right here, and we're not going to move."

  "So, you're sticking with that plan?"

  "It worked for Leonidas," Jason quipped.

  Latham shrugged. "Not really. Remember, he didn't make it. Despite what I said earlier, I'd really rather not die today."

  "Yeah, but he accomplished his goal," he said. He cut his eyes to the ground and slowly shook his head. "The truth is, I'm spent. I don't have anything better. I'm open to suggestions." He looked at the two men, hopeful.