Fire From The Sky | Book 8 | Hell Fire

by Reed, N. C.

  “You have no idea.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Whose idea was this again?”

  Collecting the rail ties had seemed like a completely awesome idea when they were still on the farm in relative comfort. Walking down the rail bed behind the truck, heaving tied onto the flatbed as they went?

  Yeah, not so much.

  “Shut up,” at least four voices growled at Titus Terry as they continued to work. “It was more than one person,” Gordy continued, heaving a tie onto the stack behind the cab of the flatbed truck.

  “So, I have to kill several of you, then,” Titus nodded as he helped Corey heft another rail onto the truck. “Good to know.”

  “You know, if you worked as much as you talked, we'd be done by now,” Kade growled from the truck bed.

  “I completely resemble that remark,” Titus agreed. “I have to make sure I don't do more than my share.”

  “You're doing a great job of that,” Gordy shot back. “Come on and let’s try and pick up the pace a little. It's going to get hot, soon.”

  “Soon?” Titus refused to be intimidated into silence. “I'm almost melting already! I am far too delicate to be out here in the hot sun, toiling away like this!”

  The other football players had heard it all before as Titus had entertained them during countless practices, going on and on about how difficult it was for him to suffer through such treatment. Even extra laps at the end of practice couldn't stop him, so none of the other boys pretended they could, either.

  “Have I said what a fine idea it was for all of us to be out here in this heat, toiling away at-”

  “Shut up!” Four voices said in unison.

  -

  “What happened to not going off the farm again?” Mitchell asked as he and Clay made the ground watch circuit, looking things over.

  “I was overruled,” Clay shrugged.

  “Really? By who?” Mitchell asked.

  “Jose, Xavier, and Gordy and friends,” Clay told him. “They wanted to go get the railroad ties where they had ripped up the rails. Use them as a extra layer of protection for Building Two.”

  “Damn, that's a good idea,” Mitchell nodded. “Who came up with that?”

  “Zach and Corey and Kade, if I got it all straight,” Clay informed him. “There was a lot of yelling and talking going on.”

  “Who was yelling?”

  “I was,” Clay snorted. “Being completely ignored, though. It was like once they all got a hold on the idea, that was it. I finally gave up and went home.”

  “Sounds like the officer thing to do,” Mitchell nodded. “Good call.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  -

  “Operator.”

  “Millie, this is Deuce, checking the phone for Bunker 1.”

  “Well, I'm no expert, Ace, but you rang my bell okay,” Millie put on her best seductive voice.

  “Oh yeah?” Leon had grown increasingly bolder in the last few weeks, and Millie liked that. “Well, I'm always glad to ring your bell, ma'am,” he snickered. “All part of the service here at TNT Communications.”

  “TNT?” she asked without thinking.

  “Tillman and Tillman,” he laughed. “Really need to work a 'J' in there somewhere for JJ. He helped us lay the initial lines.”

  “I'm sure you'll think of something,” she laughed. “Is this it, then? Are we done?”

  “I'm going to hook a radio bank up in here, too, but we can't test that as long as we're on radio silence. Closest I can get will be a few mike clicks. I wish we had some old telegraph machines,” he more or less muttered to himself. “That'd be cool.”

  “You know we can make those, right?” she told him.

  “I knew it was possible, but I don't know how to do it,” Leon admitted. “I assume you do, since you brought it up?”

  “Honestly, Ace, I don't know how you made it without me,” she sighed theatrically.

  “Hey! I can use an 'A' for Ace and call us ATT!” he sounded tickled. “Thanks, beautiful!”

  “What?” Millie sounded stunned. “H-how did you know that?”

  “Know what?” Leon sounded confused. “That you're beautiful? I can see, that's how.”

  “That's... never mind,” she stammered slightly. “And you're welcome.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked carefully. “If I shouldn't have said that then I apol-”

  “If you apologize for calling me beautiful, I will never forgive you,” she threatened. Almost growled it sounded like.

  “Oh, well I was totally not gonna do that,” Leon almost stammered. “Anyway, I'll be back in a little bit. I still need to set the radio station up.”

  “I'll be here, Ace.” Millie disconnected the line before Leon could say anything else, sitting back in her chair and rubbing her face.

  “Wow. Just... wow. What would my Mom say now?”

  -

  “You don't have to sit up here with me, you know,” Samantha said as Leanne sighed for the tenth time in a loud, dramatic fashion.

  “I know,” Leanne nodded. “I thought you might welcome the company. I know I do. Leon is working on the phone line, and doesn't need my help for that. Millie is in the radio room to answer the phones and we're still on radio blackout, so... this would be a great time for me to sit up here with Heath, or better yet for him to be on the ground with me. But no. Where is he? Picking up railroad ties.”

  “Gordy is too,” Sam reminded her, scanning the area with binoculars. “I feel your pain, little sister.”

  “Little sister?” Leanne started at that. Sam lowered the glasses and looked at her, smiling.

  “Does it bother you? If it does, I won't use it.”

  “No, it doesn't bother me,” Leanne smiled brightly. “Just the opposite, really. Thank you!”

  “For what?” Sam asked, raising the glasses to her face once again. “We're almost family, for goodness sake! Probably will be one day for real.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Sam felt her face go red.

  “That would be awesome,” Leanne replied at once. “Totally and completely awesome!”

  “You really think so?” Sam asked, not lowering the glasses this time.

  “Absolutely,” Leanne didn't hesitate. “You would the coolest older sister ever!”

  “Aw, thanks Leanne!” Sam almost gushed at the younger girl's enthusiasm. “I think you're an awesome little sister, as well.”

  “Well, of course I am!” Leanne scoffed. “What's not to love?” she held her arms out as if ready to stand inspection.

  “Nothing at all,” Sam leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. “You're completely awesome, kid.”

  “Don't call me kid!”

  -

  “I'm just wondering if you took all that into consideration,” Kandi finished. She had finally managed to get Terri and Dee together at the same time to explain her thoughts on the food supply.

  “Not all of it, no,” Dee admitted and Terri was shaking her head as well. “We were just thinking about how many head we can sustain, especially through the winter. We can deal with cattle losing a little weight over the winter. It's expected, even. But we don't want to lose cattle to the winter due to overpopulation or lack of hay and winter silage.”

  “No, of course not. That's just wasteful,” Kandi agreed. “But I'm assuming it takes at least a year for a calf to reach slaughter weight? At least under normal circumstances?”

  “The ideal is more like eighteen months, give or take,” Terri corrected.

  “And how often does a cow come in season?” Kandi asked. “And what is the gestation period?”

  “A cow will fall into season every month or so at least until she's bred,” Dee replied. “But the length of the season can vary. She might take a bull at any time for two or three days, or she might refuse him after two or three hours. There's no standard there that applies to every cow. That's why we gather cows we want to breed and place them in a smaller pasture with the bull we want them to breed w
ith. When he gets the scent, he'll take care of the rest.”

  “As for gestation, roughly two hundred and eighty days, again give or take,” Terri added. “Older cattle might deliver a little early, or go well over. The same can be said of first-time dams, so again, there's no set standard, but it will usually fall within a week of the two hundred eighty days.”

  “So, if we bred every cow on the farm today, we'd still be looking at a year-and-a-half before those calves could be harvested, minimum. Closer to two years if we allow them to reach prime weight and age,” Kandi clarified.

  “Yeah,” Dee was starting to see where Kandi was coming from.

  “On average, if you breed one hundred cows, what is the loss rate?” Kandi asked next.

  For the next twenty minutes or so the supply expert asked her questions of the two women most likely to know the answer other than Samantha Walters, who was at the moment manning a post. Some of the answers were good in her view, while others were not so much. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked at the two women.

  “It's not my place to tell you how to do your job,” she told them. “But... you've just told me that if we started right now, we'd be looking at a minimum of two years before we could produce new cattle to feed others, and about the same amount of time for a new calf to reach the age where she could be bred, which would add another nine months to when she could produce. Almost three years for a calf to be in a position to replace a cow that's slaughtered for meat.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Dee was starting to be concerned now. “It's not an exact science, but it's close to that no matter what, usually.”

  “So, if we slaughtered or otherwise spent or lost one hundred cattle today, it would take us two years at a minimum to make up that loss,” Kandi emphasized.

  “It would,” Terri agreed, also becoming uncomfortable with this information being pointed out. None of this was anything she had been taught to consider, so she hadn't.

  “How many pounds of beef are we consuming here on the farm each month?”

  Neither woman had that answer, as it wasn't their job.

  “So, neither of you has any idea how much beef we would end up possibly trading to Jordan over a year’s time, either. Correct?”

  “No idea,” the two women replied in unison.

  “We need to find out both of those numbers then,” Kandi said firmly. “The need for food is going to increase rather than decrease over the next year. We have to be able to meet it, at least some of it, without endangering the herd, or our own supply of beef. What about horses?”

  “Uh,” both women were reeling from Kandi's barrage of questions. “What about them?”

  “How long does it take to produce a... colt? Isn't that the term for a baby horse? How long to produce a colt, and to bring him or her to age and size enough for them to work? Either to bear a load, pull a wagon or plow, or be ridden? At some point fuel will be at such a premium that quick trips someone like Jordan will be impossible save in an emergency. Not only will we need a large number of horses, they are also something that will become a commodity. We need horses to trade or sell, as others will need them. If they can't buy or barter for them, then they will try to steal them. So, how long to produce a colt and rear them to the proper age?”

  Dee Talbot and Terri Hartwell were getting a rapid-fire lesson in Sustainment and Supply.

  -

  “So, I've been thinking,” Greg Holloway said as he sat down at Clay's desk.

  “Didn't know Marines were equipped for it,” Clay shot back at once.

  “Har, har, har,” Greg's sarcasm was thick. “You don't stop with the jokes, do you. Bet you were a big hit on no-talent night with the Army.”

  “Anyway,” Clay waved the comment away. “Let’s not waste that one, random thought you'll produce this month. What were you thinking about?”

  “I don't know if I want to tell you, now,” Greg sat back and crossed his arms.

  “So, you weren't really thinking about anything other than lunch, then,” Clay snorted. “Figures.”

  “Assuming we were to be hit by this bunch,” Greg turned serious, “they will likely have Hummers at the least, and possibly even MRAPs like yours. Maybe something stronger.”

  “We're set for that,” Clay nodded.

  “Well, what if we could capture them instead?” Greg asked.

  “I'm not interested in running a prison operation,” Clay replied coldly.

  “Not them, their vehicles,” Greg sounded irritated.

  “And how would you plan to do that without shooting them to pieces?” Clay asked. “At which point they would be pretty much useless.”

  “Well, they would be focused on this side of the road, assuming they hit us without doing proper recon,” Greg pointed out. “They might assume we're just a well-run family farm, and see only what they can get out of the deal, ignoring the fact that we could be a threat.”

  “Could,” Clay nodded. “I think it unlikely but not impossible.”

  “So, what if we had a team across the road, hidden, that could dump a flash-bang into the turrets?” Greg asked. “Or even the window of a Hummer if it was open in this heat? That wouldn't do much harm to the gear if any at all that I know of. We stun the occupants, kill them, and take the vehicles for ourselves. Easy-peasy.”

  “And you just jinxed it,” Clay sighed. “It was a good plan right up to that point.”

  “You know what I mean, dude,” Greg was shaking his head. “If they've got something heavier and it's buttoned up, hit it with the AT weapons, but otherwise... we take them. We can always trade them away to someone who has something we want.”

  “Or we can keep them,” Clay mused. “Even for parts.”

  “Even for parts,” Greg was nodding. “And it's not likely to be any more dangerous than taking them head on in battle, either.”

  “It's worth looking at and planning for,” Clay admitted finally. “It will depend on what we're facing and how many I guess, but... if we can spare any heavy weaponry fire, that's also a plus. What we have is all we have, after all. A flash-bang isn't nearly as likely to be missed as say a LAW or some of our other, more modern hardware.”

  “Right,” Greg leaned forward. “So, what about this....”

  -

  “Is this enough?” Titus asked, breathing heavily as he leaned on the back of the truck. “God, please tell me this is enough!”

  “I doubt it's enough to get the whole job done,” Corey gave the bed full of ties a glance. “But it's more than enough to get a start on Building Two. And enough to overload the truck, too. I think we should be looking at heading-”

  “Quiet,” Zach said suddenly, his head turned slightly. “Anyone else hear that?”

  “I do,” Tandi surprised them. “Everybody load up,” he ordered at once. “Zach, get to the Cougar and tell X what's happening. We need to start for home. Now. Once we're on the road the Hummer will go around and lead. You guys take trail. No radios unless we're under attack. Everybody, go! Go, go!”

  Everyone went, Gordy and Corey taking just enough time to ensure the straps were tight and in the right place. Both gave Roddy Thatcher and Kade Ramsey, his partner, a thumbs up before sprinting for the Hummer. Ellen Kargay was already at the wheel, engine running. Gordy slid easily into the gun tub as Corey took the back seat.

  Two minutes from the time Zach had spoken, the truck was moving, making way down the rail bed to the road. Five minutes and the truck was on the road, headed for the farm. As soon as the Hummer was on the pavement, Ellen hit the gas and pulled around the truck to take the lead. Behind, Abby put the Cougar in motion as they brought up the rear, their gun looking backward and their riders with rifles at the ready.

  “I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings,” Zach said as they began moving. “But I'd bet on that gunfire being from Jordan or thereabouts.”

  “Sounded like it,” Abby hated to agree, but it had. “Remember we thought they had already hit Peabody.”

 
; “Put that away for now,” Xavier's voice was clipped. “Concentrate on your duties until we're back on home ground. After that you can speculate all you want. We're on dangerous ground at the moment. Keep your mind on the fight.”

  “We aren't fighting, yet,” Abby replied, though it sounded more like a question.

  “We've been fighting since this began,” Xavier told her, his voice flat but not unkind.

  Abby nodded slowly, but didn't add to the conversation. There wasn't really much to say after that.

  -

  “Uncle Clay, Jody says he can hear gunfire!” Leanne Tillman burst into Clay's office just as he and Greg were finishing up. “He said it sounds like a major battle in Jordan!”

  “Okay,” Clay kept his voice calm. “Thank you. We'll head up and see if we can hear it.”

  “You want me to check on Gordy and the others?” Leanne asked.

  “No,” Clay shook his head despite wanting to do the same thing. “If it were them, they would have broken radio silence to let us know. If they have trouble, they'll call us.”

  “Yes, sir,” Leanne nodded and then raced back to the radio room.

  “Pull two people from the alert team and arm the other four-wheel Cougar,” Clay ordered his friend. “Be ready to roll at the drop of a hat. If they run into trouble they'll need back up.”

  “On it,” Greg nodded and ran to get that done. Clay made his way up to where Jody was surveying the land around them with a spotting scope.

  “Nothing in view,” the sniper almost whispered. “Heavy gunfire, though. I'd about bet on it being Jordan this time. It has the same sound as your engagement there, before.” As he spoke there came the sound of an explosion, followed by the heavy hammering of a fifty-caliber machine gun.

  “Sounded like an RPG,” Jody suggested. Before Clay could answer they could hear the lighter sounds of an M-60 firing.

  “Jordan doesn't have any M2s that I know about,” Clay said softly. “They do have RPGs and at least two functional M-60s.” Another explosion was heard, followed quickly by yet another. Clay picked up the phone.

  “Operations,” Leanne said at once and Clay noted the change. It was a good choice.