Erik paused in his investigation of the wall. "You mean you can hear them?"
"Yes, sir," said Tenet’s voice. He cleared his throat and continued: “When the Russians open the door, we can hear the noise of…gotta be hundreds, maybe thousands of people. It's like a dull roar in the background."
"What’s the outside look like when the door opens?" asked Erik.
"Bright," said someone. A round of laughter escaped the prisoners.
"Granted," said Erik with a lopsided smile. "But I'm asking about trees, roads, signs—anything. Anyone see anything at all?"
"There's a heck of a lot of pine trees in the distance," said Purnell. "And you can see dirt paths out there."
"Like I said," said the Tenet. "We're not in downtown Orlando anymore. But, you can still see the smoke in the air."
"See it? You can smell it. And if you go outside and open your mouth, you get a mouthful of ashes." added another voice in the darkness.
Erik put his hands on his hips and thought for a moment. He stretched his aching back. "So, has anyone decided to escape?"
A rueful laugh made its way through the men. "Hell yes, sir—we all have. The question is, how?" asked Tenet.
"Well, for starters, who's in command here?" asked Erik.
"Uh…" began Purnell. He looked around at the others and received a few nods. Turning back to Erik, he said "I kinda been taking the lead on things. But, that was before you got here, sir.”
“What are you saying? There’s no one here who…there’s no other…” Erik looked around in the darkness. He couldn’t see details in their faces, but he could tell they were shaking their heads.
"Awww, shit."
CHAPTER 15
The Trap
YOU KNOW, I REALLY appreciate you guys doing this," said Roger Hallwood. He gave an awkward smile as he took a box of rice from Rob.
Rob grunted with the effort of handing over the captured Chinese rations but returned the smile. "Hell, we’re all Americans, right? Just because we disagreed on what was the best course of action doesn’t mean anybody has to have any hard feelings, right? Or go hungry?"
"… Right," said Hallwood as he handed the box off to a grim-faced local. The man’s eyes locked on Rob’s just a hair too long for the Regulator’s liking. Hallwood turned away and checked his watch for what appeared to be the third time in the last few minutes.
"Got a hot date or something?" Rob said with a chuckle. He grunted, and took the next box of rice and passed it out of the truck bed to Hallwood.
The local man grinned, but his eyes didn't meet Rob's. Little warning bells tinkled in the back of Rob's mind. He picked up another box and casually scanned the surroundings as he turned to hand the crate over to the local man. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
His small detachment of Regulators had parked their vehicles in a loose circle not far from what was left of Pine Bluff’s courthouse. The Chinese raid had pretty much leveled two-thirds of the town and burned down most of the public buildings. Only the high school—now a refugee center—and courthouse were left standing. On the west side of town, a small neighborhood of houses remained relatively unscathed. Those people had already taken in as many neighbors and friends and family as they could. Yet there were still hundreds of people without homes, food, or any kind of supplies at all.
Rob handed over another box of rations and looked around again. The more he paid attention, the more he noticed the surly look about the locals who had volunteered to help distribute the food. He stretched his back and sighed trying to give himself cover as he checked the surroundings.
There were locals scattered in amongst the Regulators helping to distribute food to the people lined up to carry it off to the high school. A few Regulators were posted on the outskirts of the block, keeping a watchful eye on things. Rob also knew up in the mountains about a mile and a half behind them, more Regulators were posted watching the road leading to town. He felt confident that the Chinese would not be able to sneak up on them in force.
The smile he gave the local man in the John Deere hat wasn’t returned. Rob frowned. He wasn't too trustworthy of the locals yet. Despite the fact that he and the Regulators had decided to hand over a good portion of their supplies to help the people of Pine Bluff, Hallwood made him feel…uneasy. There was something about the man that Rob instinctively did not like. A man who was willing—so quickly!—to join sides with the invaders against his own countrymen deserved a healthy dose of cynicism.
But, a voice told Rob, he’s apologized and it really seems like he’s trying to make amends. The man was gathering the townspeople together and starting to organize search parties for the missing and shelter for those who were homeless. He seemed to stop worrying about the Chinese and focus on his own townspeople. Rob shrugged, then picked up another box.
He was probably just being overly cautious. Even though his rifle was only an arm’s length away, leaning against the side of his truck, Rob still felt exposed. Naked. But no one had seen hide nor hair of any Chinese troops in the last few days.
He handed over the last box of rice to Hallwood. No sign of the Chinese for the last few days, he told himself. That right there means trouble. Doesn't it?
He bent over to pick up a sack of beans and out of the corner of his eye saw Hallwood check his watch yet again before looking to the south, down Main St. The man was sweating—they all were, but not that much. It was a fine autumn day in Arizona. Not too hot, maybe around 80° and wonderfully dry. A man used to living in the area for more than a few years should not need a change of clothes after a little light lifting.
Rob mumbled some apology about being too old for this kind of backbreaking work and moved off to slake his thirst from the canteen under the side of a collapsed house. Once in the shade and out of earshot of Hallwood, Rob picked up his radio and keyed the mic. "Overwatch this is One, any sign of movement?"
Rob was able take a few swallows of cool water from his canteen before the scratchy reply came over his radio speaker. "Negative, One, I got nothing. Everything looks good from here."
"Roger that, just keep a good eye out, will you? I'm getting nervous here."
"Something happen?" asked Lance, from his position halfway up the mountain.
"Nah," Rob replied, as he twisted the cap on the canteen. "I guess I'm just getting jittery, that's all. It comes with old age," he said with a laugh. Rob turned and looked halfway up the mountain about where Lance had picked his lookout post.
"All right folks!" Hallwood's voice rang out over the din of people gathering supplies. I think we've got enough here," he said, "that we can start making a run to the High School. Let's see if we can start gathering all the supplies and get this pile over to those people who really need it. I want to thank you all once again for helping us get the supplies unloaded!"
"I want to thank the Regulators!" somebody shouted from the rear of the crowd.
Rob grinned. It was about time someone recognized the sacrifice the Regulators were making for these people. He and Lance had been planning on divvying up all the supplies they captured from the Chinese among the Regulators. It would have been more than enough for each Regulator to subside on through the long winter ahead. Now that they had given away nearly half of their supplies, Rob began to worry that he and Lance may have cut things a little too tight for their own people.
Rob moved back over toward his truck as the last of the townies grabbed supplies and started hauling them across the street to the high school. A stream of people carried the supplies inside the building.
"On behalf of the town, I really do want to thank you for all you've done for us."
The sentiment was in the man's voice, but not his eyes. Rob shook hands with Hallwood. The limp hand felt clammy. There was absolutely no moisture in the air and Rob wondered how the man could possibly have sweaty hands at a time like this. Rob worked harder and had not worked up a sweat at all. More suspicions. The man was either sick or nervous.
The Mountain. The unofficial name for the Regulator camp had a nice ring of simplicity to it. He grinned as he picked up a box of ammo and handed it over to a grateful man from Pine Bluff. Rob responded to the man’s word of thanks and glanced around. There were still dozens of people milling around waiting for food—most, he noted with satisfaction, had the look of half-shame, half-relief on their faces. These were proud, independent folks. Living up in the foothills of the Apache National Forest did that to a person, Rob figured. They weren’t used to taking handouts and it showed.
That was just fine by Rob. He didn’t want to be in the habit of giving stuff away. Especially ammo.
He passed off the last of his pile of ammo to a young woman with a small child in tow and moved toward the Franks brothers. They were doling out a handful of captured Chinese rifles to the survivors who intended to do some hunting. He smiled reassuringly at one of the men in line and was about to say something when the radio on his belt broke squelch.
“One, Overwatch. Heads up—you got company inbound. I’m seeing a handful of vehicles. Pretty sure they’re not friendly. They look military.”
A look passed around the men within earshot. Rob held up a hand to get them to be patient. “Copy that, Overwatch. You see anything else?”
“No…they’re comin’ in from the south, up the main road. I think you got about ten minutes.”
“We gotta get out of here!” one of the men said. Others agreed and started to move away and collect what family they could find. Word spread quickly and the ordered, almost fair-like atmosphere devolved into chaos in seconds. People started screaming for children or spouses, asking for help in moving supplies, and shouting for everyone to find cover.
“Omaha has eyes on,” crackled the voice of the Border Patrol pilot. Rob sent a quick prayer of thanks—again—that those brave men and women had made the decision to join the group. The little 2-seater helicopter they brought with them was an invaluable tool for gathering information. If only they could find a steady supply of aviation fuel. But that was a worry for later.
“You got a small convoy coming from the south—another coming from the east, about the same size. Looks more like APCs than trucks.”
“Shit,” Rob said at the ground.
“What are we gonna do now?” asked Ed Franks.
His brother George loaded the small pile of the ammo crates back into the bed of his pickup truck. He slammed the rear gate and picked up his AR. “Fight, I hope! These people have suffered enough on our part.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” muttered Ed.
Rob looked around at the scattering of mostly destroyed homes and businesses. There was no real place to go.
They had been trapped. A sinking feeling in his stomach made him frown. Neatly trapped. This was no coincidence. Someone had tipped them off. The Chinese couldn’t be that lucky. Either way, the Regulators would soon be trapped, along with most of the citizens of what was left of Pine Bluff.
"Okay people," he said. "We got less than 10 minutes before the Chinese arrive. We gotta hustle—everyone find places to hide, get your ammo ready, get your weapons ready!" He looked down the street to the south and spotted a whiff of dust on the horizon. "We don't have much time. Regulators, if you can, I want you set up in the rubble of the houses along the street on either side. They’re gonna have to drive right down this avenue to get toward the center of town, where the rest of the people are going to be gathered. Everyone else, get up here with me by the courthouse."
"All right boys, saddle up!" called out Ed Franks. A handful of Regulators nearby whooped and hollered as they dashed for cover.
"One, be advised the group coming from the south is speeding up," reported the pilot.
"Let's roll!" said Rob as he slung his pack over a shoulder. "Any man from the town that wants to join us in this fight can follow me!" Rob was gratified to see that more than a dozen men with hunting rifles fell in behind him as he jogged for the nearest intersection.
His improvised plan was simple. He had Regulators getting in position inside the burned-out husks of homes on either side of the main drag through town. At the main intersection in front of the courthouse, he would position himself and most of the locals. As the Chinese worked their way from the east and south through town, they would be taking fire from both sides of the street. He hoped.
Rob tried to calm his breathing as he took position around the corner of the municipal building. Reports from the other Regulators that they had achieved concealment made it easier for him to concentrate on the task at hand. He dropped his pack to the ground and turned to the man next to him.
"You guys are the ones that know this town…You tell me, where’s the best spot for an ambush?"
The rough looking local with tired eyes scratched his chin before he spoke: "I think we’re in about as good a spot as we can get, Mister. If they come through the south there," he said pointing down Main Street towards the gathering dust cloud. "We'll chew ‘em up."
"And if they come from the east? There's another group coming that way right now," Rob said.
The local shrugged. “I ain’t no soldier…”
Rob grimaced. That was the problem. None of them were. Well, a few used to be… He grabbed his radio. “Levine, you copy that last?”
"We heard the chatter," reported the Border Patrol Agent. "Me and my men can swing south and come up behind them."
Rob keyed his radio. “Roger that, thanks for the assist. Wait for my signal to make sure that we won't leave you boys hanging."
"You bet. Good luck."
“Rob, get the hell out of there! What’re you doing?" said Lance’s voice over Rob’s radio. "You guys got less than five minutes before your gonna be crawlin’ in Chinese!"
"Anybody who tries to run for the hills is gonna be shot like fish in a barrel! They’re too close. It’s time we make a stand." Someone tapped him on the shoulder and indicated the front steps of the courthouse. There was a small group of men—all unarmed—gathering at the top of the steps. Like they were waiting for something.
In the distance he could hear a low rumbling sound. The Chinese were getting close. He glanced again at the locals gathered on the steps. They looked completely worn-out and wore dirty, soot-covered clothes.
Rob gritted his teeth and charged, his rifle held high, screaming for them to get down. Four of them dropped to their knees and went face first on the ground. Two others turned and ran, heading in opposite directions. The last man standing was Roger Hallwood. He stood there before Rob, arms folded across his chest.
"Why don't you just give up now and save yourself the trouble?" Hallwood asked politely. Rob took the marble steps two at a time until he was right in the man's face and the shit-eating smile vanished.
Without breaking stride Rob swung the butt of his rifle up and caught the traitor square in the face. Rob stepped over Hallwood’s crumpled body with no small amount of satisfaction and kicked in the front door to the courthouse. He stood there in the doorway and waited as his Regulators began to stream in from across the street.
The rumble of Chinese vehicles grew in intensity with every second. The dust cloud was just on the other side of the closest houses now, he figured they would be showing up in front of the courthouse any second now.
"You bastard!" Hallwood sputtered through a bloody nose. He struggled to get to his knees. "What the hell is wrong with you? If you would’ve just left when I asked you to—"
Rob brought his rifle up and took aim at the man's forehead. Hallwood went pale. "Shut your mouth, traitor."
The first of the Regulators rushed past Rob and moved inside the courthouse to secure the building. He could hear shouts from inside as they went room to room clearing the building. Rob turned his attention b
ack to Hallwood, who now had his hands up and was standing at the top of the marble steps.
"You realize the Chinese are going kill you, right?"
Hallwood turned an angry glare on Rob. "They'll do no such thing! We made a deal! They will leave this town in peace when I hand you over."
"They’ll leave this town in pieces, you dumb shit!" Rob said, fury making his voice hoarse. "You have no idea what you're doing! I saw what they did down in Nogales—I saw their brand of treating with the natives! They rolled through town and destroyed everything in their path! They're killing everybody, why don't you see that?"
"They're not here to kill anyone! Their commander explained to me—"
Rob turned away as Ed rushed up the courthouse steps carrying a handful of rifles and bags of ammunition slung over his shoulder. "I'm the last one—what do we do now? They’re right on my ass."
"Get inside—see if you can find some kind of fallout shelter or basement or something like that."
"You got it." Ed disappeared inside the darkened courthouse.
The roar of the Chinese vehicles had risen to a constant thunder. Rob caught a glimpse of one of the squat green APCs as it passed between two burned-out houses down the street. They were only seconds away from converging from two different directions on the courthouse. His men would be trapped. It would only be a matter of seconds, he figured, before they blew the whole building straight to hell.
Rob glared at Hallwood. The man standing before him had caused all of this. His stupidity would cause the end of so many lives. So many American lives. The Quisling.
With a calmness that Rob did not fully expect, he shouldered his AR, strode forward a few steps and pulled free his hunting knife. He placed the knife right on the tip of the Hallwood's Adam's apple, and spoke: "Get your ass inside."
The man's face—if possible—went even paler. "What…what do you mean? What do you want with me?"
Sic Semper Tyrannis Page 21