by Reed, N. C.
“Don’t seem like it,” Heath agreed before taking another shot.
Three hundred meters and a bit more downrange, blood flew from the back of one of the enemy combatants before he hit the ground, never to move again.
“Nice shot,” Kurtis noted.
“Thank you, good sir,” Heath replied quietly, knowing that Kurtis’ electronic hearing protectors would pick up his voice even while filtering out the louder report of his rifle.
“Y’all shouldn’t really be enjoying this so much,” Corey said from behind them, listening to their chatter. “It’s creepy as hell, too,” He was ignored as the two continued to target the combatants whose only reason for being where they were was an attempt to attack the farm.
Both young riflemen had been ‘gifted’ new rifles before Christmas. The entire teen contingent had, in fact, received new and improved hardware of different kinds, a reward for the good work they had done so far. It would also enhance their combat capability, a happy and added plus all around.
Kurtis and Heath had each received an M2010 ESR, or Enhanced Sniper Rifle, chambered for .300 Winchester Magnum. The rifles were equipped with a tremendous Leupold Scope and accompanied by a clip-on SNS, or Sniper Night Sight. Essentially, the rifles were good for both day and night use with a simple attachment that was easily carried with them wherever they went.
The pair were making exceptionally effective use of the new rifles. With the extreme engagement range of their current position, it would be difficult at best for their enemy to get the smallest hint of where their attackers were located. Attached noise suppressors would add to that, disguising any sound that might give the attackers even a direction to look for their enemy.
Each young man was a superb rifleman and equipped with an equally superb and highly accurate rifle platform.
It wasn’t fair, really.
-
“That has to be Heath and Kurtis,” Zach said softly, his voice carrying to Greg. The older man nodded slowly so as not to attract any attention with his movements.
“They wouldn’t be shooting at anything if they didn’t have to,” Zach continued, his face a mask of concentration as he ran down his options.
“No, they wouldn’t,” Greg agreed.
“We’re coming under attack, or were about to, and they caught it,” Zach said suddenly. “We need to deploy for that if we intend to engage them here. I doubt even those two can get them all.”
“How do you know there will be a bunch of them?” Carrie Jarrett demanded softly.
“I don’t know it, but those two are really good shots,” Zach explained. “They rarely miss, or even shoot when they aren’t sure of hitting their target, so that means there are several targets out there. Plus, no one would attack this place with just a few people. It’s suicide, and everyone knows it, nowadays. Even if this is a feint, there would have to be enough of them to draw us away from the actual point of attack. All that adds up to there being a solid number of folks sneaking up on us. Or trying to,” he added with a chuckle. “They’re failing, but that doesn’t mean their attack won’t reach us.”
“I agree,” Mitchell Nolan had low walked over to Zach’s position in time to hear the end of Zach’s explanation. “Suggestions?”
“We need to pull back to a better defensible position,” Zach told the former soldier. “Somewhere with at least some concealment if not actual cover. We probably don’t have the numbers for a standup fight, and I still worry that this is all just intended to draw all of us off, away from the farm.”
“That ditch we had to cross on the way here?” Greg suggested. “Sixty-five meters or so back?”
“That would be a decent place,” Zach agreed. “With only ten rifles, that would give us a good edge in defense and allow us to move east or west under at least some cover.”
“Then let’s do that,” Mitch agreed with a nod. “Fall back by teams. Your team first. Ten-meter spread. I’ll let Operations know.” He reached for his radio mike even as he moved back to his own team.
“You heard the man,” Zach told his group. Pull back ten meters, maintain our own five-meter spread, wait for the signal to continue withdrawal. Let’s go.”
-
“Operations, this is Thug, how copy?”
“Thug, be advised we have you three-by-four at the moment,” Leon replied, watching a meter on the radio rack. “Say traffic.”
“Believe a major attack, or else a major feint is under way,” Mitch reported. “We are withdrawing about sixty-five meters from current posit to take up defensive positions in a drainage and irrigation trench running east-to-west. Will advise when in position.”
“Roger that, Thug. Standing by.” Leon turned to Clay, who was nodding.
“Best move they can make at the moment,” he sighed. “We need to know more about what’s going on before we can do much else. Everyone on alert posts?”
“Everyone is where they should be,” Gwen Paige nodded, looking at her clipboard. “Shelters all confirm their rollcall is full.”
“Then all we can do now is wait and see.”
-
“That’s five,” Kurtis spoke gently, replacing the magazine in his rifle.
“Four for me,” Heath replied before taking another shot. “Five, now,” he almost smiled. “All tied.”
“Will y’all stop doing that Hannibal Lecter type shit, please?” Corey asked, almost whining. “I’m going to have nightmares for weeks.”
“Not afraid of a little blood and violence, are you?” Kurtis asked.
“I don’t care about the blood, or the violence,” Corey snorted. “Y’all doing this Freddy Kruger slasher-movie type shit, though? That’s weirding me out.” Throughout their banter, Corey’s eyes had never stopped scanning the area around them for threats.
“Take it easy, Whiner,” Heath snorted. “It’s all good.”
“And, we go again,” Kurtis noted as his let the bolt slam home on a new round.
“Right behind you.”
“I hate you,” Corey sighed. “Both of you.”
“Don’t be a hater, man,” Kurtis chuckled.
-
When the alert sounded, Samantha Walters had grabbed her rifle and ran for the tower behind the Sanders’ homes, her assigned position in case of trouble. She was among the best long-distance shooters on the farm, and Jody Thompson’s training had made her even more formidable. At the end of her training with Jody, he had given her a Springfield M1A rifle with a heavy, threaded barrel and the best Zeiss scope she had ever seen. Considering some of the rifles her father owned, that was saying something.
The sight of seeing such a small woman with such a large and heavy rifle might have made some laugh, but Samantha Walters was much stronger than her slight figure would indicate. Muscles already well defined by sports and ranch work, the training regimen she had been through since arriving at the farm had made her a truly formidable power, considering her size. Weight training with Ellen Kargay had made her stronger still. As a result, pulling herself up the tower’s ladder with her gear wasn’t difficult at all. She wasn’t even breathing hard when she reached the platform to find Vicki Tully already there.
“Hey there,” Vicki said as she used the scope on the tower to scan the area around them.
“Hey,” Sam smiled as she closed the trapdoor to the tower and readied her rifle. “Anything?”
“Just the shooting over that way,” Vicki pointed south-west without taking her eye from the scope. Sam nodded and made her way to the phone.
“Operations, this is Gwen,” she heard after one ring.
“Gwen, this is Samantha,” Sam told her. “In position on Tower One with Vicki. All clear so far.”
“Thank you,” Gwen said before hanging up abruptly. Sam smiled at that, knowing how busy she and Leon must be with an alert on.
“I had checked in by radio,” Vicki admitted. “Forgot all about the stupid phone. I was too busy trying to look around.”
�
�Easy to do,” Sam nodded. “Now it’s hurry and wait.”
“Ain’t it though?”
-
Marcy George had joined Titus Terry on Tower Two once more, but this time Gary Meecham was there as well. Both me were busy scanning the area for threats when she arrived, so Marcy reported herself on post and began to assist.
“Marcy, if you would scan the cabins and the surrounding area while we try to sweep the area further out, that would help us cover more ground,” Gary told the teen.
“On it,” Marcy nodded, taking a pair of binoculars and beginning a careful inspection of the area around the tower and the cabins it protected.
“Do we need to go topside?” Titus asked without looking away from his own scanning.
“Not yet, I think,” Gary replied after a minute. “We’ll clear the area first, and then you can go up and take a better look. I’ll stay here and set up the M240 in case we need it. Marcy, you can go with him up top and help him watch. Remember that you don’t have a phone up there, so listen to your radio.”
“Gotcha!”
-
Kim Powers settled into the bunker in front of T2 and checked her gear as Nate Caudell reported her as on post. She took the opening facing east, toward Jordan, before asking what was happening.
“So far all we know is that there is shooting coming from the direction of the training operation to the south-west,” Nate informed her, Sienna Newell, and Mikki Reeves, who had arrived first. “Several people had a strong hunch about the southern approaches, and two fire-teams were sent that way at dawn. They’re currently holding position about seven-hundred meters or so to the south, in a ditch that runs across the fields from west to east. We assume that the firing we’re hearing is Heath and Kurtis, neither of which would be shooting if they didn’t have a damn good reason for it. All we can do now is wait and see what happens.”
“What do you think is happening?” Petra asked the former commando. He was the experienced hand here, after all.
“It’s either an attack that the boys busted up, or it’s a feint to draw us off the farm while they attack from the highway, or maybe from the north,” Nate exhaled. “There are just too many options for them, if they’re smart and patient.”
“That doesn’t describe too many in that bunch from Jordan,” Kim noted with a raised eyebrow.
“Not everyone who has survived lives in Jordan.”
-
It seemed like forever and yet no time at all before Gordy was looking at the Plum House in the distance. Seth had stopped, waiting for Gordy and the others to catch up. Gordy gave the younger teen a firm slap on the back.
“Nice work, man,” he nodded, reaching for his radio once more.
“Plum House watch, this is Chip. Please respond.”
“Go ahead Chip,” the answer was immediate. “Plum House copies five-by.”
“Thank God,” Gordy almost sighed rather than spoke. “Plum House, be advised I am behind you with seven others. We need shelter for them, and I need to let Operations know that there is an attack headed for the farm.”
“Roger that, Chip. Plum House copies all. You’re clear to approach. I’ll raise Operations while you’re on the way. Standing by.”
“We’re on the way in,” Gordy replied. “Let’s go, gang.”
-
Faron Gillis was watching the highway from the hatch of the M-RAP that sat on the road, blocking access to the farm from behind the log trailer wedged across the road between the trees that lined each side of the road. His binoculars swept over the visible area to his front every few seconds, straining for any sign of a possible intruder or attack.
“Sir, we have movement across the highway,” Corporal Raven Elliot said softly from within the vehicle. Gillis didn’t look down.
“Where away, Corporal?”
“One hundred yards north of the interchange, sir,” she replied at once. “At least twelve so far.”
“Are they advancing?” Gillis asked.
“Not at this time, sir,” Elliot shook her head, though the Lieutenant couldn’t see it. “They seem to be marshalling in the tree line.”
“Very well,” Gillis sighed. “Make sure all stations are aware of that tactic and are looking for it. Inform Operations of that as well.”
“Roger that,” Elliot nodded, ducking back inside to where her radio was sitting. Gillis returned to scanning the area before him, wondering if this was the feint, or if it was the real attack.
But then, any attack was real when bullets started flying, wasn’t it?
-
Clay listened to the radio traffic as he moved markers on the map that showed where all their people were as well as where they knew possible enemies were.
“This is a major move,” he said finally as the phone rang yet again. “I wish we could hear from Gordy.”
“Ask and ye shall receive,” Gwen Paige said, holding out the phone. “Gordy, for you. He’s reporting from the Plum Farm.” Clay had already taken the receiver by the time she finished.
“Gordy, what’s going on up there?” Clay demanded without preamble.
“Numerous hostiles working their way across the countryside toward the farm,” Gordy replied at once. “At least twenty-seven at the last count before I left. Heath and Kurtis are trying to cut the odds as well as evaluate their actual number. Corey is covering them while I brought the kids here for safety and to contact you. My radio wouldn’t reach.”
“We had assumed that once the shooting started,” Clay confirmed. “Look, this is just part of what may be a major development. I need you to get back and help the others. If the enemy tries to keep moving, I need you to shadow them. Get a radio from the Plum House as well. It may just be your radio. I’ll order the men at Plum House to set up a man between you and them as a radio relay if nothing else.” He paused, conflicted over what he was about to say.
“You’ll have to do it alone, Gordy, the four of you,” Clay said finally. “I can’t weaken that outpost any more than I already have with the radio relay. I need the rest of them on alert and on post.”
“Got it,” Gordy said firmly. “I have to go.”
“Be careful, kid,” Clay told his nephew even as Sergeant Lowell Martinson came on the line asking for instructions.
Trying to forget that he was once again sending teenagers into harm’s way, Clay started telling Martinson what was going on, something that his hindsight told him he should already have done.
-
Zach stood with Greg Holloway as they watched everyone settle into the ditch they had chosen as a defensive position. They should have been in there as well but waited for the rest to get set.
“Eunice, you’re too far out,” Zach said softly. “Move to your left a bit. Yeah, right there,” he added as the young woman complied.
“Settle in, I guess,” Zach told Greg, who nodded and made his way to the far right of their position. Zach had the left. The idea was to keep the trained but unbloodied troops between them, hopefully steadying them and maybe preventing one or more from being injured.
“Operations, this is Thug,” Mitchell Nolan whispered from Zach’s left. “In position.”
“Roger that, Thug. Operations copies four-by-four.”
“Now we wait,” Mitchell said just loud enough for the rest to hear.
-
“I think they figured it out,” Kurtis drawled, adjusting his rifle as a group of armed combatants made their way toward the small rise where the three teens lay hidden.
“Looks as if,” Heath replied, changing his own point of aim. Behind them, Corey shifted in place, his safety snapping off making a louder sound than it should have.
“Okay, there are seven, no…eight to our front,” Kurtis noted.
“Concur,” Heath agreed softly.
“Ah, I think we got other troubles, guys,” Corey said gently, moving to Heath’s right. “I got six moving in the tree line to the south. No, seven now…wait…damn,” he finally sai
d.
“What is it?” Kurtis didn’t move his eyes from his own target.
“Guys, I think the people you’ve been taking on were just a skirmish line or something,” Corey sounded concerned for the first time since the shooting had started. “There’s at least a dozen coming through the woods behind us.”
“Did they bring the entire town?” Kurtis’ consternation was understandable at this point.
“How many are left in town?” Heath asked rhetorically.
“Good question,” Corey nodded. “Between the plague and starvation, how many are left?”
“What if these people aren’t even from Jordan?” Kurtis voiced a sudden thought. “I hadn’t even considered that until this very minute.”
“Me neither,” Corey and Heath muttered in unison. As the three of them considered that, Corey noted that the snow was getting harder.
“This is just turning into a doozy of a day, officer,” Corey sighed, using an old movie line that was a favorite.
“Ain’t it though?” Heath snorted. “Time to get back to work.”
“We’re working for ourselves, now,” Kurtis agreed just before pulling the trigger, sending a hard-hitting round downrange.
“I guess that means I can’t complain about the pay, huh?” Corey grunted as he tried to get closer to the ground, waiting until he could effectively engage the approaching enemy with his M4.
“Pay?” Heath asked in mock incredulity. “You get paid? I’m filing a grievance.”
-
“Call Gleason in,” Clay told Leon. The teen nodded and quietly called for the NCO on the radio. Thirty seconds later the old soldier trotted into T2.
“Sir,” he reported, not quite at attention.
“I wanted you to see what we know right now,” Clay said. He leaned over the map, Gleason joining him.
“We have known combatants here, and here,” he indicated the borders of the farm to the south and along the interstate to the east. “We suspect there are others here,” he indicated the southern border again, but east of the first spot by over a mile.
“This is a major attack, sir,” Gleason said at once, studying the map. “If I may, sir, what do we have watching the north?” He gestured to that area of the map as he spoke.