by Reed, N. C.
“I hope this thing had the reinforced chassis,” Tandi’s voice sounded as if it were speaking through a fan.
“No kidding,” Petra agreed, her own voice bouncing along with the Hummer. “I know it’s rough, but this plowed ground is hard to cross, even frozen.”
“I don’t care how rough it is, so long as we-” Jose began, but was interrupted as the Hummer topped a very small rise and Kevin Bodee immediately opened fire with the machine gun atop the vehicle. Jose swore as he noted the numerous figures visible through the windscreen.
“There they are!” Doc said, pointing over Petra’s shoulder to a small clump of brush. Petra immediately steered in that direction. She veered suddenly, throwing Tandi to the opposite side of the compartment as she dodged Gordy Sanders, laying on the ground.
“Shit!” she shrieked. “I almost hit him!”
“You didn’t, and that’s all that matters,” Jose told her at once. “Put us tail first to our guys if you can. Doc, egress through the rear. Petra, you follow and assist. Archer and I will provide cover and try to get Chip over here as well.”
“Roger that,” Tandi replied, clambering into the rear.
“Yes, sir,” Petra said at the same time, turning the big vehicle even as the M240 continued to hammer away above her head.
-
Gordy had assumed he was going to die when the Hummer came screaming over the rise behind him, but somehow the driver, whoever it was, had managed not only to miss him entirely, but continue moving on course without pause. That was intense driving. The Hummer going past him meant he was still alone, however, and the passing vehicle had drawn attention to his location. He was now taking significant fire and knew he needed to relocate. He began to low crawl his way toward the Hummer. He would move twenty or thirty yards on his belly, then get to his feet and run for the vehicle, exposing himself as little as possible.
That sounded like a good plan.
-
“Are we sure this is a good plan?” Stacey Pryor asked gently, his voice carrying to Mitchell Nolan.
“Best of any I can come up with,” Mitchell shrugged, not taking his eyes from the advancing enemy. “We have to hold somewhere, and short of a prior fixed position, this is the most ideal location.”
“That is true,” Stacey acknowledged. The ditch was more like a trench, over four feet deep and at least five feet wide. There was no water now, though there was plenty of snow. Still, it provided cover and concealment in the face of a far superior number of personnel. About all you could ask for in their situation.
There was a three-round burst of gunfire to his right, and the battle was joined.
-
Zach itched to be moving. He didn’t like this. Didn’t like being stuck in one place, didn’t like being responsible for so many people, didn’t like giving the enemy any advantage he didn’t have to. He should be moving behind the approaching enemy right now, following them and killing them silently, one after another. He knew some might find that distasteful or dishonorable, but that didn’t bother him. These people were his enemies, intent on taking the only home he had left from him.
There was no getting out of it, however. The older men in the group, the more experienced men in other words, refused to make decisions, looking to him for orders. He was reasonably sure that if he screwed up, one of them would point it out or even take over. He had been tempted for a few seconds to test that theory but discarded the idea almost as soon as it formed. Xavier would never approve of such a thing, and Xavier’s approval was one of the few things Zach found to be important to him.
Thus, here he was, tracking a target with his M4. Almost sighing his breath part way out, he squeezed the trigger gently.
And then there was nothing but shooting.
-
“Sounds like Greg and his group are engaged,” Clay murmured, mostly to himself. He was surprised when Gleason answered.
“Sounds like,” the NCO agreed. “I don’t hear anything other than rifles, so far, sir,” he added, head cocked to one side. “Either their attackers lack heavy weapons, or they haven’t brought them into play as yet.”
“If we’re being attacked by what’s left in Jordan, we have to assume they have heavy weapons,” Clay nodded slowly, running things over in his mind. “They would have not only the gear we left them, but whatever was left from the detachment you had there. For all we know, the survivors of your group are with them, which would levy them with experience as well as whatever heavy weapons they may still have. No offense,” he added as he turned to look at the old soldier.
“None taken,” Gleason assured him. “Thought of it myself. Cut off, leadership gone, no source of command or resupply, no mission orders going forward, the list just keeps piling up. There comes a point you stop fighting for Uncle Sam and start fighting for yourself. The way things sit now, I won’t hold it against any man or woman to be doing what’s best for them, absent any other information.”
“Makes sense,” Clay took a deep breath and released it, watching his breath to vapor in the cold morning air. “Truthfully, if they weren’t attacking us, I’d feel the same way. I think now, after the plague, it’s going to be strictly dog eats dog. What little we had saved and had rebuilt since the Storm is all gone now. The fire is truly out and all we’ll have are a few embers scattered around the world. I plan for this place to be one of those embers,” he told Gleason flatly.
“So do I, Lieutenant,” Gleason nodded. “This is home, now. All most of us have. We got nowhere to go from here.”
“You’ve got a home here so long as you want it, Sarge,” Clay promised, turning for the door to T2. “I need to get back.”
-
“Left. Left, LEFT!” Zach’s call was louder and louder as he tried to call attention to a group of people moving behind the enemy’s front line, crossing left behind the confusion to try and flank the defender’s position.
“Got it!” Mitchell Nolan acknowledged.
“More coming from the woods,” Jena Waller called from Zach’s left. Zach saw them and swore softly to himself.
“Operations, Gunner,” he spoke into his radio. “Enemy count now fifty plus, say again fifty plus. Continuing to emerge from the wood at this time. If you’re sending help, now would be the time.”
“Hold tight, Gunner,” Xavier Adair’s voice replied instead of Leon Tillman. “We shall be there momentarily and have brought a lovely surprise for our unannounced visitors.”
“Roger that, X,” Zach nearly grinned. Business was about to pick up.
-
“Heath, can you hear me?” Tandi asked, huddling over Heath Kelly.
“Yufm,” the younger man grunted. His voice was slightly slurred, his eyes looking unfocused.
“Heath, look at me,” Tandi ordered, penlight moving. “Heath. Heath!” Tandi shook the young man by his good shoulder. “That’s it, bud. Look here for me. Looks like you took a round on the Kevlar pot, Heath. Must have just grazed you and bounced over. Left a gash in the helmet and a knot on your head. Okay, arm wound…pretty sure your left arm is broken, buddy.” He quickly secured the trauma bandage from Heath’s gear around the arm and strapped it to his chest to keep it immobile, then moved to Heath’s left leg.
“Through and through here, looks like,” Tandi spoke more to himself, then produced a second trauma pad for that wound.
“Okay, you’re good for the moment,” he promised. “Lay still until we can maybe suppress this shit enough to get you loaded. Read?”
Unable to speak effectively, Heath nodded, but then reached for his rifle. Tandi stopped him, grabbing the outstretched hand and moving it back down.
“No, no, bud. You’re done for today. Now sit still while I check on Corey.” The little medic didn’t wait for Heath to nod again but instead went straight to work on the next patient.
Tandi tore open Corey’s collar and pressed fingers against the young soldier’s neck, first on the right side, then the left. Next was an ear t
o the chest, followed by the penlight to the eyes again. His movements had become increasingly frantic, but now slowed to a crawl as he lowered his forehead to Corey’s chest.
“What is it?” Petra was watching, splitting her time between watching Doc and being there to help him and watching the enemy as Kevin Bodee continued to hammer at the approaching enemy with the machine gun. Supported by rifle fire from both sides of the Hummer courtesy of Heath, Jose and Gordy, the enemy advance on the small position had been halted for the time being.
“I’m sorry, kid,” he said too softly for anyone else to hear. “I am so very sorry.”
-
Gordy had waited until everyone at the Hummer was firing before erupting from the ground and running flat out for the vehicle. He could almost feel rounds kicking the ground and buzzing through the air around him, but he ignored those in favor of going faster. He never slowed down, instead diving for the ground and sliding part way beneath the big vehicle on the ice.
“What do you need me to do?” he shouted to Jose from the rear passenger door.
“Help Doc!” Jose replied. “We need to get loaded and get the hell out o’ Dodge! There’s too many to hold here!”
“Got it!” Gordy slipped and slithered his way behind the Hummer, stopping short as he saw Tandi Maseo lower his head to Corey’s chest. He could see Tandi’s lips moving but not hear what he was saying. Behind him, Heath sat on the ground, blood-soaked bandages on his arm and leg, his face blank. Kurtis was prone, still shooting. Petra Shannon was there as well, standing guard over Doc while the medic worked.
“Doc?”
Tandi’s head jerked up at the word, his gaze finding Gordy immediately.
“Help me get them loaded,” Tandi ordered, pointing to Heath first. Gordy nodded and moved to Heath’s side, careful to keep the bulk of the Hummer between him and the incoming fire.
“C’mon, buddy,” he told Heath softly, putting an arm beneath Heath’s undamaged shoulder and levering his friend off the ground. “Let’s get you guys the hell out of here.”
“Hmfh,” Heath’s voice sounded hollow. He was able, barely, to place some weight on his injured leg and help Gordy assist him.
As Gordy helped Heath into the rear of the Hummer, Doc looked at Petra and jerked his head toward Corey Reynard.
“Give me a hand with him,” he ordered. The young woman nodded, slinging her rifle and moving to help get Corey off the ground and into the vehicle. They moved to the back of the vehicle, where Gordy was waiting to help with Corey, Heath bundled up and leaning against the seat wall.
“Get behind the wheel and be ready,” Doc told Petra and she nodded jerkily, clambering over and through to the front seat, careful to keep down.
“Doc,” Gordy frowned as he placed Corey next to Heath.
“I’m sorry, Gordy,” Doc gripped Gordy’s shoulder lightly and squeezed. “He was gone when we arrived.”
With that, Doc was back outside, grabbing equipment and telling Kurtis it was time to get loaded. The hunter grabbed his gear and rolled in behind the Hummer before clambering to his feet and jumping inside.
“Go ahead and get in the back seat,” Gordy told him absently, still looking at the body of his friend. “I’ll get this back here.”
“I’m sorry,” Kurtis said before doing as Gordy instructed. Gordy nodded slowly as he closed the door, preparing it to allow him to fire out the rear window behind the Hummer.
“Me too.”
In the back seat, Doc was yelling at Jose.
“Pancho! Let’s go!”
Jose didn’t need to be told twice. He crawled into the passenger seat and closed the door, looking to Petra Shannon.
“Punch it!”
Kevin Bodee turned the turret as the Hummer moved, continuing to hammer at their approaching enemy with the machine gun even as the group was forced to withdraw. In the front seat, Jose considered their options before pointing out a path for Petra to follow. One that would leave a false trail to follow if any of the attacking force decided to try.
Once they hit the roadway, they turned for the Plum House. Kurtis and Gordy could stay there to bolster that flank while Jose returned to the clinic with Heath and Corey.
Corey.
Tandi’s stone faced look told Jose all he needed to know about Corey.
There would be yet another empty chair on the farm.
CHAPTER SEVEN
People continued to pour out of the woods to the front of Zach’s position and the teen wondered how many could still be coming. This was a massive, coordinated attack on the farm.
A sharp grunt from his right made Zach look in that direction in time to see Jena Waller fall back into the ditch, blood flowing from both the front and back of her shoulder. Carrie Jarrett knelt quickly at her side, pulling her pack off as she did. In seconds she was evaluating Jena’s wound exactly as Tandi had taught her, bandaging it tight to prevent further blood loss.
Zach turned his attention back to the fight in front of him. He couldn’t spare any time to check on Jena’s condition. Not with two rifles now out of the fight for the time being.
“Medic!”
That call came from his left, further down the ditch. Savannah Hale was leaning over a prone Stacey Pryor, probably looking for injuries. Even as Zach looked, blood flew from Savannah’s right thigh, and she grabbed her leg and went down.
Carrie Jarrett was moving their way before Zach could tell her to, her medical bag in one hand and rifle in the other. Zach once more returned his focus to the battle. They were quickly losing this one, and it was too late to withdraw. They would be cut to pieces trying to escape over open ground with so many people shooting at them.
Whatever X was doing, Zach hoped he did it quick.
-
“Our comrades have taken refuge in a large ditch,” Xavier told his crew. “We will position the vehicle as close to the center of their line as possible,” he instructed Elijah Brigham, “nose on the enemy. You,” he pointed at Specialist Brannon Howard. “Are you capable of manning the Deuce?”
“I am,” the man nodded firmly.
“Outstanding. Do so and use the fifty to cover us and them. We shall work to get any wounded aboard and then examine whether we can hold or not. I suspect not, based on the reports of increasing enemy numbers, but we shall see. You will join me on the ground,” he told Vince Hathoway. “Let’s have the gun up now, just in case,” he added to Howard. The other man nodded and scrambled for the turret.
“And now, my friends, unto the breach we go,” Xavier said aloud, though to no one in particular.
-
Faron Gillis sighed as the opening shots of his own battle drowned out the battle to his rear. Tanner and his team had opened fire, which meant that the aggressors they faced had reached the interstate. The sounds of multiple rifles as well as the hammering of a SAW came to him now from his own left.
“Report to Operations that we are engaged, Corporal,” he ordered his medic and temporary radio operator.
“Yes sir!” Raven Elliot called from below.
Gillis chewed on his lower lip for a moment, considering his options. He currently had a total of eleven people on the line facing the interstate, including Corporal Elliot and his driver, PFC Dezi Martin. The remaining nine were spread across the front. Four of his own men, two more of Gleason’s troops, and three of the young female troopers trained by the farm. Some might question their presence, or their ability, but Gillis wasn’t in that number. He had seen these women in training and was certain they knew their business. To him, that was all that mattered.
“Operations is aware of our situation, sir,” Elliot called from inside.
“Very well. Have all other posts report status, please,” he called down. She acknowledged and continued to work the radio.
Three people out of nine that were on the line were now engaged, probably against high odds. The SAW would help, but if the numbers were very great, he would have to shuttle help to Tanner fro
m elsewhere. That would leave his line even weaker than it was now.
He briefly considered ordering Tanner to withdraw and take up a position near the M-RAP behind him. Let their enemy come through the woods and into the open where the heavy weapons mounted on Cougar could be brought to bear and make a greater impact.
After a few seconds he decided against it, at least for the present. If Tanner felt he couldn’t hold then he would report that, and Gillis could decide what to do.
Meanwhile, he listened.
-
Zach heard a heavy machine gun start hammering somewhere to his left and feared the worst; that the enemy had somehow brought up a BMG and gotten it operational. That would make a desperate situation much worse.
Even as he began to doubt their ability to save themselves, let alone to hold their position, he heard a heavy engine. Risking a look behind him, he saw the six-wheel Cougar named Phantom bouncing across the rough, frozen ground, a fifty-caliber machinegun cutting through the enemy and forcing them to go to ground.
“Hell yeah,” he nodded to himself, his confidence restored for the moment. He watched as the big rig pulled right up to the ditch, placing itself at the center of the small defensive line. The back doors opened and Xavier and a soldier whose name Zach couldn’t remember hearing, hit the ground and began crawling toward the ditch.
“Medic!” Greg Holloway called just then, and Zach whipped around to see the former Marine kneeling over Eunice Maynard. After a few seconds of effort, Greg looked up at Zach and shook his head slowly. Maynard was gone.
“Damn it!” Zach swore to himself. They were losing people left and right. A glance back to the left saw yet another person down, this one Freda Fletcher, her face covered in blood as Jena tried to check on her.
“Seems you’ve a bit of a situation, Zachary,” Xavier’s voice was calm as ever as he dropped into the ditch, the other man right behind him.
“Ain’t we though?” Zach nodded. “We’re in a bad way, even with you and that fifty helping. We’ve lost five people so far. I hate to give them the field, but we can’t hold them here, even with the Cougar. And if they have an RPG somewhere, then that’s that.”