Fire From The Sky | Book 8 | Hell Fire

by Reed, N. C.

  “Miss Gray, it's a lovely sentiment, but as harsh as it may sound, those women are not our responsibility and never were. We aren't abandoning them because we were never responsible for their safety nor their being there.” Jose kept his voice gentle, but his words were firm.

  “We've done everything we can to help others since this mess started,” Clay reminded her. “We helped Jordan a great deal, even to our own detriment. You see how well that has turned out. I would imagine your good township has nothing but bad feelings for us now despite all we've done for them. Right?”

  She didn't reply to that, but the flush on her face was enough to tell them he had hit the mark.

  “I figured so,” Clay sighed. “So, you can see how well helping others is turning out for us, can't you? And while I would never hold what Jordan has done to us against someone else, that's not what's happening here. We simply do not have the power to go to Peabody. We might possibly have been able to scrape by if we hadn't lost so many today, but... not now.”

  “Bossman, we have incoming,” Jody was still on the job. “One pickup, approaching from freeway. Slowly.”

  “Roger that,” Clay replied. “I'm afraid we'll have to end this discussion here, Miss Gray. I assume you are being treated well?”

  “I'm waiting for them to be able to see me in the clinic, but yes,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You are quite welcome.”

  -

  Clay fought the urge to sigh once more as the truck they had given Jordan pulled into the drive, two in the cab and seven in the back, all armed.

  “Rally on the pad,” he said softly into his mike. “Possible hostiles. Repeat, possible. From Jordan.”

  Jose Juarez and Greg Holloway were beside him in seconds. Nate and Mitchell were in the bunker, which would put them behind the truck. Jody was above them, Heath high above to Clay's right.

  The truck stopped and everyone bailed out.

  “Can we help you gentlemen?” Clay asked, actually going for polite.

  “We came to get the doctor,” the driver said without preamble. “Bring her out here and have her bring her stuff.”

  “I'm afraid we can't do that,” Clay smiled. “She is currently treating wounded. She is also not making house calls at the moment.”

  “She is today,” the driver said, in a tone Clay was sure the man thought was tough sounding. “We got wounded in town she needs to see to. So, let’s get her out here and loaded up.”

  “What part of 'no' aren't you getting?” Clay asked. “You aren't 'getting the doctor'.”

  “Listen buddy, I mean to have that doctor,” the man was getting angry now and his friends were spreading out behind him.

  “Are all of you stupid or something?” Greg cut in, and the movement stopped. “You idiots take a look around you. Go ahead, look. I'll wait.” The men surprised him by actually looking at their surroundings, causing a couple of them to look pale.

  “So?” the driver demanded.

  “So, we just killed all of them and they were a hell of a lot tougher than you,” Greg smirked. “Yet you and your friends here think you're going just going to waltz in here and... what? Intimidate us? Seriously? With rifles we gave you? In a truck you got from us?”

  “None of that makes no never mind to me,” the driver was shaking his head. “We're taking the doctor, and if we have to kill you to do it, we will.”

  Bad move.

  “Tommy, get the driver. Just the driver.”

  Before Clay finished speaking, the driver came apart in front of his friends, a fifty-caliber round from the cupola tearing him apart and smearing him across the truck hood.

  The idea was to get the others to realize that he was leading them to ruin. Instead, all of his friends immediately lifted their own rifles.

  And died in a five second hail of gunfire without any of them ever firing a shot.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” Clay swore bitterly as the echo of gunfire rocked across the farm yet again. “What the hell is wrong with these inbred shitheads?”

  “Nothing, now,” Greg replaced the magazine in his rifle before going to make sure all of their visitors were dead. He made it to the fourth one and started swearing. Loudly.

  “What is it now?” Clay demanded, almost stalking over to where Greg was standing. He stopped short when he saw the face beneath the hat and scraggly hair under Greg's boot. An equally scraggly beard had prevented Clay from recognizing him before.

  John Webb.

  “Somewhere, there is a witch doctor stabbing the shit out of a doll that's made with my hair,” Clay shook his head as he exhaled heavily. “I mean is it too much to ask for a damn break today?”

  “Like McDonalds?” Greg had to ask. Clay shot him a bird, then told him to go find Ronny.

  “Tell him that hole needs to be a little bigger. We gotta get this bunch out of sight while we can. I don't need more drama.”

  -

  Jose Juarez was sometimes fascinated by the irony one could find in the world if they were just looking. Using the same truck that had brought seven men and two women to the farm to make their stupid threats as the very means used to cart their dead bodies out to a newly dug burial trench and deposit them into that hole, turned out to be one of them. And, if he took extra care to make sure that John Webb was at the very bottom of that hole, well, that was just his little reward to himself for having done a good job today. That's all.

  The alert was partially canceled, allowing people to make meals and freeing up a handful of help to remove the rest of the bodies to the hole. The Webbs were carefully excluded, the older Webbs told they needed to avoid strenuous activity a few more days, while the younger Webb was 'needed' as security on the hill. Moses Brown came to lend a hand, as did Roddy Thatcher. Cliff Laramie offered, but with his hand only just set in the cast, he was turned away. No one who would recognize John Webb other than the trio of Clay, Jose and Greg participated in carting off the bodies from Jordan.

  With two extra sets of hand it didn't take long to search the bodies, remove anything useful or valuable, and then toss them into the hole as well. Everything usable, such as boots, gear, helmets and other goodies were set aside to be cleaned and disinfected for possible use by the farm if needed, or for future trading, should the farm ever try again. It went without needing to be said that there would be no more 'projects' like the one in Jordan.

  Three trips to the trench and they had the job done. As Ronny covered the bodies, deep into the ground, Jose asked about the truck.

  “Give it back to Jordan?” he asked. “With the rifles, I guess?”

  “Hell no,” Clay replied at once. “The days of giving Jordan anything aside from a swift kick in the teeth are over. We're not giving them shit, ever again. Sending people out here to 'take' the doctor. Retarded fucktard jackass assholes.”

  When Clay started cursing in nonsensical phrases, it meant one of two things; he was dead tired, or he was madder than hell. Could also be a combination of the two. Neither was a good thing.

  “Why don't you and a few others try to get some shut eye?” Jose suggested. “We're going to have to use some of the civies to cover posts probably, but we need to have teams standing down for some rest. We've got to have some time to recuperate, and not just the wounded, either.”

  “True,” Clay said absently. “We need to do something about Kade,” he added mournfully. Out of everything, that had hurt the most so far.

  “We will, but we can do it tomorrow,” Jose assured him. “Let the kids have their time with him.”

  “He was my soldier,” Clay was shaking his head slowly. “My responsibility.”

  “He was their friend,” Jose replied quietly. “Their brother. Let them handle it. We'll help, but let them decide.”

  “You're probably right,” Clay took a deep breath and let it slowly escape.

  “Of course, I am,” Jose chuckled without any humor. “That's what sergeants is for.”

  Clasping his friend on th
e shoulder briefly, Clay made his way back to Building Two, and then home, leaving things in Jose's capable hands for just a few hours.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “This is a bad idea,” Jose said at once.

  It had started innocently enough. Xavier had overheard the talk about the women and children being held in Peabody, and went to talk to his brother. The two of them discussed it for a short time before looking for Kevin Bodee. Finally, Xavier had found Zach.

  “Zachary, how would you like to go on an adventure?”

  -

  “It will work,” Xavier told Jose firmly. “And it's minimal risk, as well.”

  “Four of you and an armored Hummer are not a minimal risk,” Jose countered.

  “It's a Hummer we took from them, so there's that,” Kevin shrugged. “Anyway, I'm game.”

  “I believe it to be a worthy effort,” Brick added. “Certainly deserving a shot, at the very least.”

  “Do you realize what Clay will do if he wakes up and you idiots are off on some... crusade?” Jose demanded. “I mean after he kills me, of course!”

  “He's not gonna kill you,” Kevin rolled his eyes. “He'll be mad as all hell and probably kick all our asses and then not speak to us for three or four days, but he probably won't kill any of us.”

  “It's the 'probably' in that statement that gives me pause, as it should,” Jose shook his head slowly, not believing what he was about to do.

  “Go,” he said suddenly, before he lost his nerve. “Watch the clock. Ideally, I'd like you back here in no more than eight hours. And understand that we cannot under any circumstances come for you if something goes wrong. You need to make provision to return here on your own if things go wrong.”

  “We will!” Kevin was already moving for the door.

  “This is the right thing to do, Jose,” Xavier said softly, where only the two of them could hear.

  “I know,” Jose agreed. “Please don't any of you buy it. We can't stand any more for a day or so.”

  “We will return as soon as possible,” Xavier promised.

  -

  “Why is it always the shoe factory?” Zach asked the air around him as he stuffed his pack into the rear of the Hummer. Each man was taking everything he would need to escape and evade back to the farm in the event their operation tanked and left them stranded.

  “What?” Kevin asked, cramming his own pack in beside Zach's.

  “Gordy said when they went to get Abby, and Sam and Vicki and some others, they were being held in the old shoe factory. By old, I mean hasn't a shoe been made their since... Clinton was in office?” he thought about it for a minute and then shook his head at the irrelevance of it.

  “Anyway, seems the bad guys just gravitate to the place.”

  “You know the town's layout, yes?” Xavier asked him.

  “That's a tricky question,” Zach admitted. “I knew it as it was. After two battles and a raging fire, I don't know how much of what I know remains, to be honest. But the streets and roads, yeah. That I got, no problem. But there's also no accounting for roads that have been blocked by wrecks, fires and so forth, either.”

  “So, we are not exactly going in blind, but there are holes in our intelligence,” Brick mused.

  “I think that could be said of all of us,” Kevin snickered.

  “Do you believe there is a place where I could be useful with my rifle?” Brick ignored the joke. “Somewhere with some elevation, perhaps? It need not be close so long as my vision is unobstructed.”

  “Well... there is one good spot,” Zach plucked at his lip as he thought. “If it didn't burn down, there was a small doctor's pavilion across from the hospital. Three stories tall, I think. From the top floor or the roof you should definitely be able to see the factory.”

  “How far distant is this pavilion from our target area?” Xavier actually sounded excited.

  “Three hundred... no, closer to four hundred yards, I'd say,” Zach said finally.

  “I doubt we are so fortunate as for the building to have a place we can hide our vehicle,” Xavier stated more than asked.

  “Not that I can remember, no,” Zach shook his head. “I do know there was a loading area in case they had to call an ambulance, but the ambulance backed into the door instead of going inside. At least I think that was it. I saw an ambulance there once. There's a walkway, sorta, with a rail that opens to a small ramp. But nothing like a garage.”

  “Anything like a garage nearby?” Kevin asked as they loaded into the Hummer. “Assuming it's still standing, I mean?”

  “There's an old body shop a couple of blocks west of the pavilion,” Zach answered. “It wasn't open for business when the lights went out, but that doesn't mean it's empty. Still, it's definitely big enough to hide the rig.”

  “An excellent place to begin,” Xavier said from the front passenger seat. “First of all, the key here is silence, and speed. If our information is correct, we are outnumbered roughly four-to-one. We believe there are fifteen hostiles, but there could be more and they could have recruited from among those remaining in the town. We will therefore not assume that fifteen hostiles are not all we may encounter.”

  “Secondly, they have at least one more of those blasted gun trucks. Someone may well be on watch aboard one of them, and if so will have access to some extremely heavy weapons. We absolutely cannot allow those trucks to enter the engagement.”

  “Leave that to me,” Brick's voice resonated well with the deep sound of the Hummer's engine.

  “So, we shall,” Xavier nodded, and to his credit he did so without a hint of doubt or suspicion.

  “Finally, we have only a rough count of the victims, and it rests at anywhere up to three dozen. I don't have to tell you that we can scarcely fit one more body into this vehicle, let alone all three dozen. Therefore, we must secure transport to removed them.”

  “Use the gun trucks,” Zach said at once.

  “This is my plan,” Xavier nodded in approval. “We shall kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. That will require all of us to drive a vehicle out of there, assuming we can also steal their remaining Hummer. If we can't, then fine. The odd man out will take the second truck out and man the weapons there to prevent pursuit. Byron will retrieve this Hummer, and take the lead on the way out. Any questions?”

  “We'll likely have to adjust on the fly, since things almost certainly won't be the way we need them to be,” Kevin noted.

  “That is true, and unavoidable,” Xavier agreed. “With Byron covering us, we three will eliminate anyone outside that he has not, then enter the building, secure it, and release the prisoners. We will then guide them outside to the waiting vehicles, load them up and get the proverbial hell out of dodge,” he finished. “And no, before either of you ask, it will likely not be that easy.”

  Zach snickered a little and Kevin had a mischievous grin on his face.

  “Despite not using the fifteen hostile count as an absolute, Zachary, we do need to keep count,” Xavier reminded the teen. “We need to know how many we've put down. Also, if you note that one target is dressed differently, say in jeans and tee shirt rather than BDUs, that may be an indicator that he or she is not one of the fifteen, but a local recruit or new hire. We need to keep that in mind as well.”

  “Take the interstate north,” Zach said as they approached the interstate. “Probably not a good idea to go to Jordan today. We can pass the Peabody exit, take the next one, and come into town from the north. It's closer to where we want to go.”

  “Good man,” Kevin nodded as he made the turn.

  They spent the rest of the trip in relative silence, checking and rechecking equipment they would need all too soon.

  -

  “Damn. I knew things were bad, but I didn't think about it being this bad.”

  Zach was examining Peabody through a pair of night vision binoculars. The magnification was not as high as a normal pair of binoculars, but having the ability to see effectively in t
he dark made up for it as far as he was concerned.

  “Is our plan bust?” Xavier asked.

  “I don't think so,” Zach shook his head slowly. “The pavilion is still there, but that also means people might be living there since it's one of the few buildings still standing. No way to know until we get there, I guess.”

  “What else?”

  “The road in isn't blocked, which is a surprise, but looking at how dead the town is, maybe it shouldn't surprise me. There was a fight between the townsfolk and the gang, then another when Clay and the rest hit the town to rescue Abby, probably another when the Reconstruction committee got started, and then we know there was one recently, probably when this mob moved in. That's a lot of fighting and there were only so many people. I'd imagine a bunch of 'em left, if they had the chance.”

  “Probably,” Kevin nodded. “X, I still don't like us splitting up like this,” he added following a pause.

  “Nor do I,” Xavier admitted. “There are but four of us, however, and we have much to do. There is perhaps one change we should make, though it will be a minor inconvenience.”

  “What?”

  “We can hide the vehicle here with the gear we aren't taking,” Xavier said. “It is but three-quarters of a mile from here to town. We move in on foot, in complete silence rather than trying to enter town in a Hummer. It will take a few minutes longer, but gain us some silence.”

  “If we do that, then I am definitely opposed to splitting us up,” Kevin objected again. “No disrespect to Byron's ability, everyone knows he is hell on wheels with that rifle, but on this op that's of limited value. He can't see behind vehicles or inside the building, and he can cover only a narrow front and handful of streets. If we're stealing their vehicles anyway, then let’s all be there and head out together. We can stop long enough to get the Hummer on the way out. Zach, returning this way is the best idea, right?”

  “Yeah, it is,” Zach nodded. “And it throws anyone who is looking off our trail a little, too, since we're heading in the opposite direction of the farm.”

  Xavier thought all of that over for nearly a full minute, running scenarios in his head. Finally, he nodded his agreement.