by N A Broadley
“What in the hell was that?” Beth yelled.
“A bomb, dynamite, grenade? Damned if I know! They’ve got explosives. They’ve been launching them at us left and right.” Erik said softly.
Fear knotted in her stomach. Explosives? No wonder they were getting creamed! How in the hell were they gonna stand against an enemy that was better armed than them? For the first time, Beth feared that they couldn’t. That they would lose this battle against the Alliance and fall. What then? What if they couldn’t hold them back? What would happen to the children? To them all?
The banging of the back door and the sound of gunfire sent her diving to the floor. Screams from the operating room sent chills down her spine and spun her mind into a frenzy. She scanned the room for a weapon. Grabbing a gun from the nearest wounded man, she rolled and came up firing at the three men who stormed the triage room. From beside her, she heard Erik firing his weapon. She screamed when she saw Jill spin from a bullet that had hit her, and she fell to the floor. Grace, beside her, screamed when a bullet slammed into her shoulder.
A blow to her face from the butt of a rifle knocked her back. A set of strong hands grabbed her. Struggling, her eyes widened in terror, as a fist plowed into her face. She didn’t even have the chance to throw her hands up to block it. Sparkles danced before her eyes and she staggered to catch her breath as another blow landed on her. Shouts, screams, and moans filled her ears.
∞
The radio squawked, and Spike ducked behind a tree. He slid it out of the leather case.
“Go!” he snapped. Bullets slammed into the ground beside him, and he moved further behind the tree for cover.
“The compound has been breached! I repeat! The compound has been breached!”
Swearing, he looked behind him into the vast night. The dim light from the solar sticks shown over the center of the compound where he saw men running toward the infirmary, toward the main house, and toward the community kitchen, trying to set up a defense. Hitting the button on the radio, he barked out orders.
“Team Three, fall back to the center. Team One, hit that infirmary now!” Team three responded with an affirmative. Team one stayed silent.
“Team One, respond!” he shouted. Again silence.
“Team Four, to the infirmary!” he barked and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Stinky’s voice reply.
“On it!”
Sweating, he pulled up his rifle and aimed at a group of attackers clustered behind the stone wall. Squeezing the trigger repeatedly, he fired off a volley of shots. He smiled coldly when he saw several of them fall. A scream erupted to the right of him, and he turned to see a man pulling his leg up from one of the punji pits. The man howled in agony and he fell to the ground writhing in pain. Spike leveled his weapon and fired again, blowing the man’s head off and ending his screams.
∞
Rusty crouched on the northern perimeter of the compound and shuddered at the sight of the bodies littering the ground. Team One, his team, had all but been annihilated. Bodies of lay scattered on the ground like fall leaves blown from the trees. Everywhere he looked, he saw bodies. Pain drove into his head and he ran toward the stone wall. They needed to drive the enemy back. Fighting for breath and cursing every cigarette he’d ever smoked; he dove behind a large rock and into a cluster of men. He never saw the bullet that slammed into his face, blowing it apart.
∞
Naomi Stilter knelt on the ground behind a row of thorn hedges. On either side of her were ten of her best sharpshooters. Dropping her hand, they opened fire, mowing down anyone in front of them that moved. She smiled bitterly when screams erupted, and men fell like pins in a bowling alley. Calvin, her second in command, turned his head and grinned at her.
“Let’s blow these bastards away,” he growled. The compound was taking a hammering, and now it was their turn to even out the odds. If they didn’t stop the Alliance here, then all of the North East would be in danger. She and her crew were not about to let that happen. Even if it meant the following the enemy to the gates of Hell, should they turn tail and run.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Beth
A shout drew her eyes to the back of the triage room.
“Grab them and let’s get the hell out of here!”
She felt her hair being wrenched when her attacker pulled her to her feet. She brought her fist up and connected with her assailant’s throat and grimaced when she heard him gasp and cough. Panic frenzied her mind and she turned and tried to run away. The scent of blood and sulfur filled her nose and clogged her throat.
“You’re gonna pay for that, bitch!” he growled. He twisted her arm up behind her back. She felt her shoulder pop, and a scream of agony tore from her throat. She bent forward and vomited on the floor. Then darkness hit the edges of her eyes. She struggled to stay conscious. Her face was planted on the metal table and pain rocked through her. Her vision filled with shadows, her ears filled with the sound of screams and gunshots. Tears ran down her face. She fought the urge to give up and let this man kill her.
“You don’t get to draw blood,” she had said to Brian. And he’d been right when he replied that the enemy wouldn’t hesitate to draw blood. Her mind snapped. The reality of what Brian had tried to tell her hit home. Her vision blurred. She heard his words ringing in her ears. They were drawing blood! They were slaughtering everyone! Sucking in a deep breath, she heard Brian’s voice deep in her mind. She fought off the darkness that wanted to grab her and drag her down deep.
“Fight, baby, fight with all you’ve got in you or you will die right here.”
With a roar of anguish, she gritted her teeth against the pain and pushed herself up from the table. She threw herself backward, head-butting her attacker, while her good hand grabbed the only weapon she could find; the scalpel Doc had been using. Twirling, she reached out with her arm, now slick with blood and struck quickly with the blade and feeling it sink into her attacker's arm. He howled. She slashed and stabbed, her eyes and ears blinded and deafened by rage, her body now numb to the blows he landed on her as he tried to fight her off. An all-encompassing rage drove her to stab him again and again until he lay on the floor, blood pooling around him, and even then, she didn’t stop. Howls screamed from her as her fear poured out, and animal instinct took over. Finally, spent and sobbing, she stopped and collapsed beside him.
Looking around through a haze of pain with her cheek lying in a pool of blood, she saw the damage. Doc lay face-up on the floor with half of his face blown apart. Jill and Grace were both wounded. Erik sat in the corner, leaning against the wall, with a bullet in his chest. The three attackers, nothing but crumpled heaps while their bodies bled out onto the floor. She crawled on her hands and knees to Erik.
“Did we get them all?” he hissed. His eyes held the glassy look of a dying man.
“We did. You did, soldier,” she sobbed. She pressed her hand against the wound on his chest to stem the flow of blood although she knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“Good. Good.”
Erik smiled and Beth watched his head slump forward. Curling up and hugging her knees, she whimpered and sobbed in agony, fighting to keep her mind from shutting down. The smell of blood filled her nose and clogged her throat. Bodies surrounded her; bodies of the dead. Moans and cries from the wounded tormented her ears. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t have anything left, nothing. Her heart ached with hollow pain.
“You don’t get to draw blood,” she moaned. But they did. They did, and how naïve she had been.
∞
Brian’s mind filled with cold numbness. He threw himself into the battle. He saw Sarah a few hundred yards away running toward the compound, and his heart skipped a beat. Screams tore at his ears, and a smoky haze from the Molotov cocktails filled the air, choking him. Bullets spit up dirt around her as shots were fired from the dark woods. Turning, he sprayed the woods with gunfire. Sprinting, he followed Sarah. From the left, he saw a shadow moving fast an
d hard toward her. Brian screamed, praying she heard him above the sound of gunfire and explosions. He watched, as the man launched himself onto to her, and he pumped his legs harder gasping for air; keeping his eyes on her. He saw the glint of a knife blade as the man brought it down. With a roar, he launched himself the last few feet landing on top of the man and knocking him from Sarah.
He sprung to his feet and drew his knife. The man faced him with a vicious grin and chuckled.
“Too bad mister. I already killed her,” he hissed. Brian felt his mind snap and he tore into the man with the savagery of the killer he’d once been. His knife sang as it stabbed and sliced, hacked and tore. His arms and hands grew slick with the other man’s blood. A shout from Sarah brought him back from the brink of this fevered madness that had taken him.
“Brian, stop! He’s dead!”
Panting, he looked at her through fevered eyes. She struggled to get up from the ground. Her face was flayed open from temple to cheek. The man hadn’t killed her. Brian had seen that he’d been aiming for her throat, but instead, his knife had sliced open her face. He drew a deep breath to calm the shaking in his body.
“Oh my God, Sarah, I thought he’d killed you,” he murmured. He pulled her into his arms.
She gave him a weak smile. “Ummm, I’m feeling a bit woozy here? Could you help me back to the infirmary?”
Brian quickly scooped her up into his arms and ran with her across the compound, listening to the battle explode around them.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Spike swore and punched the wall, his knuckles splitting and pain rocking up his arm. Tears filled his eyes. Frustration and pain clouded his vision. They won, driving the enemy back, but not without significant losses. His eyes set on Mary Anne who bent down in front of Beth. He watched her gently pull the distraught woman into her arms and rock her back and forth while her pitiful sobs split the air.
She looked at Spike, and her eyes filled with tears. There were children who were now orphans, clustered at her house, scared, and doing their best to be brave; there were men and women who lay wounded, people turning to her for answers.
“I’m lost. I don’t know what to do anymore,” Mary Anne cried. They lost too many. First, Roger, now Rusty, and so many others. She walked through dozens of bodies that were laid out in the center of the compound. Friends that had trusted her to keep them safe. Friends who had believed that if they came to the compound, they would be able to live peacefully; away from the violence outside its walls. Oh, they all knew life would be different, much harder, but they were making it. They had hope and now? Now all hope was gone, blown away by those who wanted to destroy what Roger and she had so lovingly built. Her hope cast itself before her, teasing her, tormenting her. How stupid she’d been to believe that the compound would keep them safer. How foolish she’d been to think that life would thrive here.
Leslie, Tillie, and Max worked on the wounded in another area, and Mary Anne steeled herself against the moans that drifted to her ears through the open door. The violence they were trying to escape from all those months ago was now on their doorstep. Many of the faces of the dead stared up at her with lifeless eyes. Guilt chewed at her gut. Could she have done more to protect her community? Did she miss something vital?
Spike’s gut burned with anger and pain, with a sorrow so deep that there were no words or tears. The wounded, who Beth, Jill, and Grace had been working on, had been executed in cold blood. Bodies lay in the corners, leaning up against the white walls of the infirmary, slumped on the floor like discarded husks. He fought the urge to crumple to the floor and howl in anguish…to wrap his arms around his head and wail like a child. He watched as Mel and two other men gently and quickly moved the bodies to stretchers, bringing them to another room. They needed the space to work on the many wounded. Her face looked haggard and worn.
“We’ll get through this. I promise,” Spike murmured. His promise sounded empty and hollow.
Brian carried Sarah into the infirmary. He was spent and depleted. Beth stumbled over to him and wrapped her arms around them both. Stinky came a moment later and stopped in shock looking at the scene before him. The floor swam in blood. He thought he’d seen the worst carnage possible in Viet Nam, but this, this was worse than anything he’d ever seen there.
Brian pulled away and walked over to Spike and stood in front of him, seething and shaking in anger. His body felt like a live electric wire and fury tore through him. “They will pay for this!” he growled through clenched teeth. He balled hands into fists.
Spike nodded. Yes, they would pay for sure. They had driven the enemy back, but it had cost them dearly. They’d fought on the defensive, but now they would turn the tables and take the fight to them. They needed to finish this for once and for all. If they didn’t, then the Alliance would regroup and attack again. Of that, he was sure.
Naomi
Naomi stood in the center of the compound and shouted orders while the men and women scurried around, tending to the wounded, covering the dead with sheets and taking stock of the damage. Clint, commander of Team One and Calvin, commander of Team Two, stood beside her with a group of prisoners, guns at the ready—just in case any of them tried to escape. Naomi smiled. Bitterness filled her heart. She’d lost ten of her men and women to the enemy. Far less than the compound had but still too many in her opinion. They would execute the prisoners, eventually, but they would interrogate them first. She glanced at them coldly. She couldn’t find pity or even empathy in her heart for these men and women, not after seeing the bloodshed of this battle.
“I’m going to the infirmary. If they move, shoot them,” Naomi muttered. Tiredness trickled through her legs as she walked, making her steps stiff. She walked through the door of the infirmary and her gaze set on Mary Anne.
“Tell me what you need my men and me to do,” she said. She looked upon the carnage in the room and shook her head.
“I could use some hands in here, preferably medics, if you brought any with you. They killed Doc and two of my medics.” Mary Anne croaked, her voice laced with pain. Naomi grimaced and felt a burn at the back of her eyes that she quickly pushed away. The last time she’d seen Mary Anne was two years ago at a gathering of the Truth Seekers. She wondered if her own face showed the aging the way Mary Anne’s did.
She wanted to reach over and hug her friend but held herself back. There would be time enough for that later. Right now, she knew the woman needed support, not hugs. She glanced over at another woman who was leaning heavily on a metal table. She was beaten and bloody, her face twisted in misery and pain. A younger woman stood beside her with a protective arm around her shoulder. Next to Mary Anne stood a tall man with a thin build and ropy muscled arms.
“This is my grandson, Spike,” Mary Anne said, and the man stepped forward and shook her hand. “And those two over there? The older one is Beth, the younger one, getting her face stitched up is Sarah.”
Naomi nodded.
“I’ve got medics. I’ll send them right in,” Naomi replied and turned on her heels. Spike followed her out.
They had driven the enemy back but hadn’t been able to annihilate them the way she’d hoped to do. Many got away. And this chewed at her like a rat with a block of cheese. If the enemy decided to launch another attack right away, before they pulled themselves together, then the compound would fall. They needed to go on the offensive, to go after them and finish this. Shaking her head, she quieted her mind so she could think clearly. She motioned for Clint and Calvin to join her and Spike.
“We need to work quickly to clean this up and regroup. I want everyone ready to ride in four hours. We’re going hunting, boys,” she snapped. Her gaze fell onto the mountains in the distance. The sun began to peek up over, and her eyes narrowed. They were going to bring the fight to the Alliance. All three men nodded. Not a damn one of them wanted this war, but now that it was on their doorstep, they intended to finish what the Alliance started.
Mary Anne sa
t at a table in the community kitchen with her notebook opened to a blank page. Her cup of coffee grew cold while she stared off into space. The clanking of pots and pans battered her ears while several women began to cook breakfast. The long day caught up with her. She was hungry, exhausted, disillusioned, and heartsick.
Her hand shook as she began writing the names of the dead. When she came to Rusty’s name, a sob tore from her throat and tears spilled onto the page. Her best friend, her second in command, Roger’s army buddy, dead. She looked up with watery eyes. She felt Beth squeeze her shoulder.
“Maybe you should do this later?” she murmured. Mary Anne shook her head. It wouldn’t be any less painful later.
“The meeting is starting,” Beth said softly. Mary Anne closed the notebook and got up to join the others. Spike sat at the far end of the long table next to Brian, Naomi next to him, and so many others she didn’t know. Stinky sat beside Mitch. There were ten or so of them all together.
“We’ll be heading out before dark.” Naomi, taking charge, stood and said to the group. “Fifty will stay behind to protect the compound and help bury the dead. The rest of us,” she said waving her arm around the table, “will take our teams and spread out, covering every inch of this territory until we find the enemy.” It would be a combination of her group and the compounds group, a large enough force to take on the remainder of the Alliance. “We will keep in contact on channel twelve only. If you find the enemy do not engage until the rest of us get there. This is our only shot, people! Don’t screw it up!” she barked.
Chapter Thirty
Ryder Gilroy rubbed a tired hand across his face. The man they had taken, Cain, sat tied to a tree. Sucking in a deep breath, he turned to Rocco.
“What in the hell happened out there?” he screamed angrily. They got their asses handed to them by a bunch of ignorant country folk. Him! His men! Jesus Christmas! These men, his group? They were the toughest gang on the streets of New York! They never lost a fight! How in the hell was he going to explain this to his boss at the Alliance?