The rangers found the enemy before noon. The three HORSVs were traveling abreast in a line, a few hundred yards apart, half a mile ahead of the main column. They breasted a low rise and saw two four wheelers speeding toward them, throwing rooster tails of loose ash.
The outlaw scouts saw the rangers at the same time and immediately turned around. Captain McLelland signaled his troop to give chase. Their sleek vehicles quickly overcame the wheezing old ATVs. The bandits were looking over their shoulders, frantic to escape. The closest one pulled a pistol and opened fire on the Captain’s vehicle. Deb jerked the wheel and dodged the poorly aimed shots. Blue gunned his vehicle and pulled ahead of the fleeing man. The outlaw turned to avoid him just as his front wheels dropped into a small gully. His ATV flipped end over end. He lay still, thrown a dozen yards from the wreck.
“Prisoners! I want prisoners!” the Captain cried over the growl of the motors and the rush of the wind.
Legs caught up to the second vehicle quickly. Before he had a chance to turn and fire, Grumps had thrown a loop of rope around the man. He pulled it tight as they sped past. The outlaw was jerked from his saddle and dragged a fair distance before Legs skidded his vehicle to a halt. The two big grunts leapt from their seats before they had fully stopped, pounding through the ash toward the dusty man who struggled in the tangle of thin rope. Before they were able to restrain him, a shot rang out. A smoking pistol fell from the bandit’s hand. Blood poured from a ragged hole under his chin. Mason kicked the corpse for good measure.
“No intel today Cap’n, sorry!” Grumps smiled as McLellan approached. The thrill of the chase had left him uncharacteristically ebullient. “What about the other one?”
“Broken neck. I guess we’re still blind for now. You kids keep a sharp eye out, I’ll be back shortly.”
The lead Bradley was just coming into view. McLelland hopped back in his seat and Deb sped back to the column. They made their way to the lumbering Stryker. Major Price was standing head and shoulders out of one of the top hatches. He stared ahead at the horizon as the Captain made his report.
“Any word yet from your spy, Major? We’re only a few miles from the mall.”
“Yes, I’ve just heard: The enemy is making a stand in the ruins. Apparently they are frightened of meeting us in the open. We have them right where we want them! You did well to eliminate their scouts Captain, now we have surprise on our side.”
“With respect, sir, if they don’t know we’re coming, why are they making a stand?”
The Major broke from his stoic stare at the horizon to glare at him for a moment. “Please return to your post, Captain. I’m sure your rangers could use your help.”
****
When they reached the old outlet center, the rangers waited by the road for the column to catch up. His quarry finally within sight, the Colonel squeezed his bulk through one of the Stryker’s hatches and waved for the Bradleys to take up position on the ashbanks on either side of the road, flanking his vehicle. He ordered the infantry up the north bank to form a line facing the cluster of half buried buildings.
The sprawling old strip mall stood on a slight rise to the north of the road. There were half a dozen buildings, each subdivided into multiple small storefronts. Several of the buildings had collapsed over the years; their roofs were flat and their construction was cheap. The remaining stores had chest high facades which rose above the roofline and formed crenellations which could easily hide a man from incoming fire. The buildings were tall enough that, though the ash had piled up for years, they still towered more than twenty feet above their surroundings.
From the road, no enemy was visible but one. He stood in the open, fifty yards from the nearest cover, dwarfed by the big structures behind him. The Captain had trained his binoculars on the figure. He saw the bald head and the scars. He snapped his fingers at the sniper team behind him.
“Target, girls! You can win the war right here! Get set up.”
“Cancel that order, Captain!” The Major had joined him. “The man is holding a white flag. He wants to talk.”
“Then it’s the perfect time to kill him: he won’t be running when the girls shoot.”
The Major was already walking briskly back to the Stryker. “Join us, if you would, Captain. I hear you’ve met the man before, perhaps you can be of some assistance.”
McLelland turned to Deb. “Make sure they get set up. I’d hate to turn my back on that bastard without some overwatch.”
****
The big man stood silent as they trudged up the hill toward him. The Captain and the Major struggled to dampen their long strides enough to keep pace with the Colonel’s slow waddle. His stubby legs made it difficult to navigate the loose layer of ash.
When they finally made it to the top, the Colonel, breathless from the exertion, nodded at the Major to speak first.
“This is Colonel Garza, Commanding Officer of the Republic of New Texas Expeditionary Army. I am Major Price, Executive Officer of the Republic of New Texas Expeditionary Army. This is Captain McLelland, Commanding Officer of the Republic of New Texas Rangers.”
The Major waited for a reply, but the stocky savage stood implacable, his face a mask of stone. His eyes were locked on the Captain, there was a deep hatred burning in them. The Captain returned the stare, unblinking, with a steady smile.
The Colonel had finally found his wind, “I am willing to offer clemency for your men if you surrender now. You will be taken into custody and returned to…”
The big man finally broke his stare and turned his gaze to the Colonel. He began speaking suddenly, cutting Garza off midsentence. His voice was like gravel poured over thin boards; a thunderous, grating rumble.
“Give me the old man and I will let you walk back to your fortress with your lives. I want to cut him up and feed him to my pigs. Or, stay here and I will slaughter you and your men, and then I will cut the old man up and feed him to my pigs. Your choice, it doesn’t matter to me either way. You have ten minutes to decide.”
Garza was flustered by the interruption, but, to his credit, he started over without acknowledging the bigger man’s blunt threat.
“As I was saying, if you surrender now, your men will be pardoned and given jobs in whichever industry they desire. You will be taken into custody and given a fair trial. If you insist on resisting us, I cannot guarantee safety to any of your men.” The Colonel’s hands were shaking slightly. He was still locked in the cold, unblinking stare.
“I have changed my mind: If you want to live the price is now the old man and his old wife. I will still cut him up and feed him to my pigs. I might keep her around for a while, at least long enough to see her husband die screaming, and then I will most likely cut her up and feed her to my pigs. You have eight more minutes to decide.”
“Very well, I’ll take that as a rejection of our terms.” Colonel Garza turned to Price. “You can’t say we didn’t try.”
The two turned and began walking back down the hill. The Captain stayed behind for a moment.
“Werner.”
The rocky stare drifted back to him.
“I should have cut your little throat when you were crying like a bitch on my living room floor.”
The big savage laughed. The two retreating officers turned at the booming sound.
“Yes…Yes you should have. You could have saved a lot of lives that day. Do you feel guilt, old man, from all the misery you caused because you were too chickenshit to kill a sniveling child?” He turned to go.
****
Back with the army, the Colonel gathered his officers around. “We’ll go in with the armor first and soften them up a bit, then we’ll advance the infantry. I don’t foresee the bastards having much fight left after we send a few rounds of 25mm their way. Captain, McLelland, if you please, take your men around behind to mop up those who escape. I’ve got 0955, we’ll begin the advance at 1000.”
“Sir, with respect, we don’t even know how many are in there, or ho
w they are deployed. I suggest caution.” McLelland was appalled at the Colonel’s seeming underestimation of the enemy. “These are dangerous men. I guarantee they have something up their sleeves.”
“These men are undisciplined, outgunned, and outnumbered. My sources indicate they have no anti-tank capability. They will be powerless against our armor. Nevertheless, your objections are noted, Captain.” Major Price delivered a characteristic sneer. “You have your orders.”
The Captain almost told the man what he thought of the orders, but managed to hold his tongue. “Yes sir, we will deploy behind the buildings immediately.” Shaking his head, he returned to his waiting company and led them in a wide circle around the jumble of buildings. They spread out in a thin skirmish line. He told Deb to park the HORSV on a low ash drift with a good view of the coming battle.
The armor was already rolling up the rise, the two Bradleys out front and the Stryker in the rear. One of the Colonel’s staff was standing in the forward hatch, binoculars held to his eyes, scanning the buildings ahead on which the enemy had yet to appear. As McLelland watched he struggled to remember the man’s name.
The Captain’s position behind the buildings prevented him from seeing the outlaws when they appeared. The first indication of the ambush was a sharp hiss, and then four thin white lines were streaking toward the lumbering vehicles. He saw the staff officer look down to shout a warning, but before he could form the words the first rocket took his head off in a shower of gore. Even from his distant perch the Captain could see the rhythmic red fountain spurting from the raw hole at the top of the officer’s torso. The body slowly slid into the hatch. The three other missiles were poorly aimed and exploded in the ash around the vehicles. In response, the two Bradleys opened up briefly with their big autocannons. Masonry was blasted from the tops of the buildings by the explosive shells. At some unheard signal, they both ceased fire and began rapidly backing up, the Stryker leading the way.
“Where are they going?” Deb was shocked.
“I guess the boy is afraid of losing his precious armor, the sniveling coward. So much for Price’s ‘sources’. Maybe they’ll listen to me now.” The Captain angrily ordered Deb to drive them back to meet with the Colonel but then, looking back to the battlefield, he stopped her.
“Holy shit, he’s just going to send those boys straight up the hill!” The infantry was advancing now. They ran forward in squads, leapfrogging up the hill as they had been trained. As they drew near the storefronts, more rockets hissed out at them, throwing up huge clouds of ash and shrapnel where they impacted the ground. The Republic troops returned the fire with rifles and their own rockets. They continued to advance, some squads laying down suppressive fire as others ran forward. They did it by the book, but they were being hit hard. The Colonel had sent them up a bare slope. There was little cover other than shallow depressions and ash drifts. The volume of fire from the buildings increased as they drew near. The enemy had taken up multiple positions. Some were in the storefronts, far back from the long shattered windows, firing from foxholes they had dug from the ash. Still more were on the rooftops, pouring automatic fire and rockets down from behind the cover of the masonry façade.
The Captain watched, cursing, as the attack began to slow in the face of the brutal fire. Casualties were mounting. Just as he was wondering where the outlaws’ heavy machine guns were, he heard one open up from the depths of a previously silent storefront.
“God damn it! They’re shredding them!” He shouted to Deb, “Why doesn’t he at least lay down some fire?” He gestured at the three armored vehicles, sitting silently out of ranch of the rockets which still hissed and cracked into the faltering attack.
He turned back to the battle when Deb gasped. The brave men of the Republic were breaking. They had suffered the fire without support for long enough. The survivors of four companies streamed down the hill in utter panic. Dozens of dead and dying men lay bleeding on the slope. When they reached the four companies waiting in reserve they streamed through them, sowing yet more panic among the green troops. Veterans and officers did their best to hold them back, but the sight of their friends and relatives screaming in terror and covered with blood and gore finished the enemy’s work. The un-blooded companies joined their fleeing comrades and the whole army streamed toward the waiting APCs and the road home.
He could see the Colonel waving his plump arms and yelling at the running men from one of the hatches of his Stryker. They streamed past, ignoring him. The Captain signaled to his company to form up and told Deb to move to head off the routing troops. The rangers had nearly made it to the road when Werner sprung his last surprise. McLelland watched, helpless, as a hundred yard section of the road’s southern ash bank began to tremble. The face of the bank fell away, and a hundred snarling, bloodthirsty men in ragged clothes flooded from concealment took their savage knives to the flank of the jumbled mass of troops who were running in panic down the roadway.
Many of the Republic troops ignored this new threat and simply continued running, shedding their packs and weapons. Others turned to fight, and a vicious melee boiled between the ashbanks. The Captain and his troopers slid to a halt, jumped from their vehicles, and waded into the chaos, screaming shrill war cries, hoping to turn the tide.
A stinking mass of hair and moldy clothes came screaming at McLelland, a rusty knife in each upraised hand. Deb casually shot him and he skidded through the ash, coming to a bloody rest at her husband’s feet. A young bandit, his patchy beard betraying his age, swung an axe at Deb’s back but the Captain buried his big bowie in the boy’s chest. He looked down in surprise at the sudden rush of blood as McLelland twisted it and yanked it free.
There was a vast roar and the pair looked up, the three armored vehicles were rolling at full speed up on the north bank, plowing through the ash as they followed the army west down the road. The Colonel was still wedged in his hatch, his face contorted in terror. They looked at each other and laughed, then turned back to the fight.
The rangers were fighting in teams as the Captain had taught them. They were scything through the howling pack of outlaws, ferocious and efficient. Stone and Blue fought side by side, their long knives flickering. Their arms were already red to the elbows with enemy blood. Grumps and Mason were taking them two at a time, crushing skulls with a pair of big spiked clubs. McLelland laughed as the twins, Casper and Pirate, hit a shaggy man square in the face with a Molotov. It shattered on contact and his greasy mane ignited immediately. He ran screaming through the enemy. The two snipers were having fun with their first battle, their bright young faces and golden hair were spattered with gore as they carved up outlaws together. One almost got the drop on them, coming from behind with a rusty machete, but Legs was suddenly there, his knife sprouting from the man’s neck in a spray of bright red. He spun on his short legs and lashed out at another enemy. The man fell with his throat slashed, surprised by the short boy’s long reach.
The Republic men who had stayed to fight had formed a defiant knot in the mass of howling outlaws, and the rangers carved a path through to them. They were mostly Campus Guard veterans, rallied from the panic by Captain Collier and his scarred, grim rangers. They fought fiercely, determined to hold the enemy here while their comrades escaped slaughter.
When McLelland’s company broke through the cordon, the outlaws retreated. They had panicked the green troops and the mass of the army had fled, their job was done. They were not interested in dying on the knives of the enemy elite.
The two Captains organized an orderly withdrawal. There were dozens of bodies on the ground, an almost even mixture of outlaws and army troops. The few wounded were loaded on the UTVs, and the party slowly retreated down the road with the enemy taunting their failure. The rangers formed a rearguard in case the enemy had more up his sleeve. They flanked the retreating force, driving slowly up on the banks to either side. The twins had found a discarded rocket launcher and jumped out every few minutes to send one hissing towa
rd the taunting line of enemy troops, but the range was too great.
The outlaws just stood in front of the buildings and jeered. They had good reason to mock their enemy. They had done their job well. The army of ragged, desperate men had made fools of the Colonel’s smartly uniformed troops. Captain McLelland looked at his watch, it was twenty five minutes past ten. Twenty five minutes to route an army.
Two miles back, they found the supply trucks foundering in thick ash. As the beaten troops and armored vehicles had streamed passed them, the drivers had attempted to turn around in panic. One had hit the wrong pedal at the worst moment and had plowed his big truck into the south ashbank. The impact had started an avalanche, and now the three trucks were up to their axles in the loose dust.
The Captain was furious at the Colonel’s casual abandonment of the crucial supplies. He organized a working party and, while the rangers stood guard, the troops attacked the shifted ash with shovels found in one of the trucks. They had the vehicles free in less than ten minutes. The wounded were carefully placed in the overloaded trucks and the small group headed east.
They stumbled into Hempstead an hour before dusk. There was no sign of the rest of the army or their fearless leader.
“Probably settling in to a Navasota brothel by now” offered Collier, amused at their predicament.
They camped on the overpass again. There was no sign of enemy pursuit. The people in the town below went about their lives as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.
In the morning, despite McLelland’s protest, Collier volunteered to stay and screen the enemy advance. “I’ll send word as soon as I know something. Get these boys back to a doctor.” He indicated the dozen wounded men, stiff and groaning from a variety of cuts and gouges. “We’ll be ok here.”
McLelland eventually relented. “You watch yourself. I’m not gonna be able to patrol the whole god damned region by myself when this is over!”
****
McLelland’s party marched in good order through Navasota’s south gate that afternoon, the supply trucks rolling slowly behind. Curious soldiers, men who had been safe and comfortable in their billets since the night before, trickled into the street to watch them pass. Few met their eyes, instead hanging their heads in shame at their display of cowardice. The veterans deposited the wounded with an astonished doctor, and left to find strong drink.
Ash: Rise of the Republic Page 16