Final Stand: Last Ditch (Mountain Man Book 5)

by Nathan Jones

  While following Jonas's order to scout for Sangue patrols, Brandon also had his people look out for the kind of hiding place they needed, ideally one that put them close to a vantage where they could watch the destroyed section of road from concealment. And, even more ideally, one that they could get to in a way that wouldn't leave a trail right to it for dogs to sniff out.

  That was going to be a trick.

  After his group had picked out several likely spots, taking care not to actually walk close to any of them, Brandon had them scout farther out to get a good feel for the land around them. They'd be operating here for the next few days at least, probably longer, and he wanted to make sure they knew the best ways in and out, and how to take advantage of the terrain.

  It took less than half a day for Jonas and the others to finish preparing the demolition. The lieutenant let Brandon know by sending the rest of the volunteers out to meet up with him and his skirmishers, warning him that he had an hour to make his last preparations before the man dropped the cliff down on the road and drew a swarm of bloodies down on the area.

  That wasn't long, but Brandon figured he'd have to make the most of it. So they scrambled to bring up the horses carrying supplies and the hundreds of weapons, mostly pistols and shotguns, that they'd be arming the freed slaves with.

  Brandon hadn't liked being stuck with those particular guns, since a rifle was far easier to use and more accurate for a novice shooter, which many of the men they'd be arming probably would be. Not to mention much more effective in just about any combat situation. But Gray was well aware of that, too, and was hoarding the rifles for the valley's defenders. That left hundreds of available pistols that Camptown's fighters could wear if they wanted, but many opted not to since they had limited time to train with them and already had rifles.

  It had taken a lot of wheedling just to get the former sheriff to part with the shotguns, which weren't too much harder to aim than rifles at short ranges, as well as a few dozen of the AK-47s. Still, Brandon was going to have to hope that the freed slaves were better shots than he feared they would be, and that sheer numbers would provide the advantage they needed for overpowering the guards and patrols.

  With the animals brought up to the best hiding spot they'd found, his volunteers spent most of the remaining time covering their tracks, then found a vantage nearby where they could watch the fireworks.

  Brandon's cautious side wanted him to just get everyone into their selected hiding spot, with him and a few others in different hidden locations nearby as lookouts. But he had to admit that he also wanted to see the cliff dropped on the road, and it was obvious the volunteers with him wanted the same thing.

  Besides, waiting represented only a small danger, and it was important for them to see how effective Jonas's efforts were; if the road didn't end up being blocked all that effectively, Sangue probably wouldn't need to bring in many slaves, and Brandon's entire jailbreak plan might end up a complete bust.

  So they settled in on a rise west and slightly north of the road, scopes and binoculars fixed on the cliff, and waited.

  Brandon had watched two roads get taken out now, one with a fairly spectacular demolition that had dropped a cliff shelf onto I-70 in an earthshaking cataclysm, the other creating a landslide that had torn its way across this very highway. Incidentally burying most of a Sangue convoy beneath it and nearly catching Brandon and Andy in its fury.

  Even so, he had to admit that the inner kid in him would never get tired of the sight of big explosions dropping countless tons of rock to wipe out a manmade landmark like a road. And as events went, this one was closer to the I-70 spectacle than the landslide.

  Part of that was because, thanks to Pine's expert placement of the explosives on the Interstate, the explosions had been relatively lackluster. Not much more than a few puffs of smoke and sprays of dust and rock chips from the dug out cavities where they'd placed the bombs, swiftly followed by the entire overhanging cliff breaking off and falling with spectacular results.

  The fireworks here were far more spectacular, since Jonas had gone big as overcompensation for not having the expertise of an experienced miner like Pine. The explosions seemed to shiver the air, a concussion wave slapping the nearby pine trees and spreading out towards where Brandon and the others watched; he knew he wasn't the only one who cringed at the overpressure, although he hoped everyone had remembered to plug their ears and open their mouths to be safe, even at this distance.

  It was a good thing he had.

  The noise itself was a physical force, shaking the ground beneath them and the air around them so hard it was hard not to flinch and cower at the sheer power of that much C4 going off. And that was just the first of it, since the blast was followed by a continuous thunder of stone falling and crushing its way to the ground below.

  This cliff was roughly half the size of the one along I-70, maybe even smaller, but it certainly dropped well enough. In fact from what Brandon could see, rather than simply breaking off an overhanging chunk at the top, the demolition instead broke off the entire front face of it in a cascade of shattered rocks and billowing dust.

  There was enough of that to fill the air around the site, although thankfully the prevailing winds carried it all in the opposite direction, east and a little south. More towards where Jonas and Benny were waiting, actually.

  After the deafening roar of shifting earth had settled and the dust had cleared, the end result of the militia lieutenant's efforts was more than satisfying: the narrow stretch of road and roadside that cut through the hill had been completely filled in by the demolished cliff, creating a daunting barrier preventing travel along the highway. Even if the bloodies tried to go around it somehow, they'd have to cut a new road in a process nearly as laborious as clearing the blocked road itself.

  Brandon wondered how many slaves the enemy would have to send to make the road passable again anytime soon. It wasn't just idle speculation, either; the bigger the job, the more men Sangue would need to bring in: potential slaves Brandon could free and arm and escort to safety, and soldiers to guard them.

  The specific numbers of both would affect his chances of staging his jailbreak with minimal losses.

  Speaking of chances of success, he panned his scope over to where the two Grand Junction fighters had been observing the demolition. He was relieved to see that the men were already gone, as per the plan.

  Almost as soon as Jonas had set off the demolition, he would've beat a hasty retreat south with his fellow fighter. The two should be well on their way back into the mountains around Camptown before Sangue started chasing them, hopefully drawing all the enemy's attention so Brandon's volunteers wouldn't be discovered in their hiding place.

  That just left Brandon to do his job; the road was out, it looked like it would take a major effort to repair, and Gray's people were on their way back to safety. Now Brandon needed to get his people to their hiding spot and hunker down, and keep them calm as furious enemy soldiers swarmed this area looking for someone to punish for what had been done to their road.

  Unless of course it looked as if the bloodies were going to find them, at which point Brandon would need to know with enough advance warning to get his people out. Assuming that would even be possible. That would be his and Andy's job as lookouts, while they waited for the slaves to arrive so the next stage of his breakout plan could move forward.

  “Come on,” he said loud enough to be heard over the ringing in his ears. He slung his rifle and began to back away from the rise, the others following.

  * * * * *

  Watching the road get demolished would've certainly been an entertaining sight, especially since Skyler hadn't had the slightest idea Camptown was planning to do anything like this.

  But he hadn't spent the last week and a half in life or death situations just to let his focus be distracted now. So as the pretty lights and deafening sounds rang to the west, he kept his eyes on the two militia members hoofing it south.

 
; He recognized one: Gray's surly lieutenant Jonas. The other was young, only a few years older than him.

  He could also recognize people doing their best to leave a visible trail without making it obvious; those two were running straight from the cliff they'd just dropped, and they were doubtless going to have bloodies screaming after them before long.

  Which begged the question: with that sort of potential danger looming, why make their tracks so highly visible and easy to follow? The only reason he could think of was that those two, who didn't seem like enough people to cart the explosives required for the job Skyler had seen, were playing decoy.

  For who? Why?

  He would bet his horse there were still some Camptown forces around here. Either repositioning for another attack, maybe to do more damage to the road, or hunkering down to wait for the bloodies to stop swarming the area so they could safely get away.

  If so, they were in for a wait. Sangue would almost certainly bring in slaves to clear this road, a job that might take weeks depending on how desperate they were to keep it open for their use. Skyler was tempted to stick around here to hit at the guards and patrols overseeing the road clearing operation, but he wasn't sure he wanted to tackle that sort of heat on his own.

  Besides, Jonas and his buddy were going to have a difficult time making it back down to Camptown. Skyler could probably do something to help slow down their pursuit, maybe even divert some of the bloodies on a wild goose chase.

  And as an added benefit, if he made more noise around Gray's two fighters, the folks they were leading the enemy away from would have an easier time staying under the radar.

  That made his job pretty clear.

  He slid down from his perch in a tree and cautiously approached Sulky, who was dancing nervously with the entire whites of her eyes exposed, obviously terrified by the explosion; even as far away as it had been, that blast had been something else.

  Skyler spent a few minutes soothing her, taking the time in spite of his haste, then mounted up. “Come on, girl,” he whispered. “Let's find a place to cross so we can go give our militia buddies some extra help.”

  * * * * *

  Well, Tom must've been gone from the valley longer than he'd thought; Gray hadn't even mentioned any plans to take out Highway 29 again before Tom left to go searching for Skyler.

  It was certainly a spectacular sight; actually reminded him a bit of that demolition work they'd done along the Interstate with Pine. Who was, he hoped, still alive out there somewhere and had made his way back home while Tom had been gone.

  He watched the final few rocks shift and settle through his binoculars, scowling as he worked through how this new development was going to affect his search.

  Now, a sane person would see a Sangue beacon like that explosion and hightail it out of there before bloodies swarmed the area. Unfortunately for Tom, he'd had plenty of opportunities to observe the antics of his son and Logan, even Brandon at times back when he first met him, and had come to have serious questions about the sanity of teenage boys.

  Or at least, they had such irrepressible recklessness and confidence in their own ability that it looked like insanity to Tom in his old age. So of course he had to assume that if Skyler was somewhere within earshot of that deafening blast, the kid's first instinct would be to head straight towards it hoping to find bloodies to pick off.

  With a sigh, Tom lowered his binoculars and started northeast to find a spot to cross the road, where it might be safer to search through the area.

  Going smack dab into the middle of a swarm of furious bloodies on the mere chance his son might be there. Apparently teenagers had nothing on fathers when it came to recklessness.

  Sangue was already buzzing around the blocked section of road, on both sides, when Tom reached the highway a half hour or so later, approaching from a safe distance farther west. Although he didn't have much confidence in how safe it would remain, so he wasted no time crossing and getting out of sight north of the road.

  Making his way farther north and continuing east on his search, he stumbled across a complete surprise.

  The tracks were subtle and well hidden, but to Tom it was glaringly obvious that a trail disappeared along a steep rocky slope, presumably to a hiding place farther up.

  It was a well picked spot, because anyone in pursuit could just as easily assume the group of a dozen or so people had instead chosen to follow the slope northeast or southwest, giving them an escape route from the blocked section of road. To Sangue, who expected enemies to flee like any sane person would do, they might not even consider that their quarry had instead gone to ground.

  So it looked as if Tom wasn't the only crazy person in the area.

  Rather than heading up the slope, not only making himself highly visible but also drawing attention to people who didn't want to be noticed, he instead began making his way around to a couple of obvious spots where the group might place lookouts, so they could give the group enough advance warning to at least attempt to flee if Sangue discovered them.

  In the second place, a dense thicket of scrub oak that seemed impossible to move through without ripping your clothes and skin to shreds, he found Brandon holed up in preparation for a long wait.

  Lookout or not, he must've caught the young man off guard because Brandon didn't even stir until Tom had made his way a dozen feet into the thicket, squirming low to the ground and contorting his body around snagging branches. His friend jumped half a foot and whirled towards him, eyes wide as he fumbled for his rifle.

  “Surprise,” Tom said, unable to keep a hint of a smile from his face.

  “Trapper?” the young man hissed, terror fading to relief. “Where the blue blazes did you come from?”

  He wormed the rest of the way through to Brandon's hiding spot, careful to leave as little as possible for searchers to follow. “The southwest. I've been circling my way around Camptown since I left you, picking off bloodies where I can.”

  “While still looking for Skyler?” his friend asked.

  “Yeah.” Tom felt a sinking disappointment, even though he hadn't held out much hope that the skirmishers would have good news for him. “I'm guessing you haven't seen him.”

  Brandon grimaced. “No, sorry. Then again, we pretty much came straight from Camptown to here.”

  He bit back a sigh. That didn't mean Skyler wasn't here, operating along Highway 29, but it reduced the likelihood of it.

  Should he head down to the burned out ruins of Emery, then? Check around there, see if his son was lurking in more familiar territory? Or maybe keep going along the highway, see if he ran into the teenager farther east, closer to Joes Valley Reservoir?

  Brandon cleared his throat, looking reluctant. “You know, I've got something big planned here.”

  Tom tore his mind away from his searching, glancing wryly at the uncomfortable little hidey hole around them. “I hope so, if you're trying to hide in the middle of a bunch of bloodies searching for saboteurs to a vital military asset.”

  “That's just the beginning,” his friend said, his serious demeanor briefly cracking into a smile. “In fact, maybe you can tell me what you think of my idea.” He quickly explained his plan for once the bloodies brought in slaves to clear the road.

  Tom listened in growing disbelief until he was finished. “I think you're either a genius or crazy.” He shook his head. “Then again, you were the one who thought up taking out Highway 29 the first time, and sending out skirmishers to delay and misdirect the enemy. You're one scheming SOB, you know that Gerry?”

  He would've expected his friend to at least crack a smile at the ribbing praise, but instead Brandon just looked sick. “Schemed my way into getting half my skirmishers killed or wounded,” he said quietly.

  Ouch. Well, Tom was no stranger to failing people who'd relied on him; he still felt a surge of guilt every time he remembered the failed ambush when he'd thrown all those recruits into a situation they weren't ready for, getting most of them killed.
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  After a somewhat strained silence his friend took a deep breath. “Anyway, this jailbreak I've got planned is going to be tricky. I could use another person who knows what he's doing.”

  Tom frowned, considering it. “You going to pull the trigger on it soon?”

  “Not for a few days, at least. I want to observe the bloodies, see their patrol patterns and guard positions and schedule. Also they haven't even brought in the slaves yet, and it's possible they might decide not to at all.” He gave Tom an oblique look. “I could really use a top notch scout to help get me the information I need, with Sangue so active in this area.”

  Part of him really hated to say no. After everything Brandon had done for his family, for the town, and with how good a friend he'd been over the years, it felt more than simply wrong to just leave him in the lurch.

  At the same time, Tom couldn't waste days sitting around here when his son could be out there in danger.

  That said, he didn't necessarily have to choose one or the other. He cleared his throat. “Tell you what. I'll spend a bit of time picking over this area, seeing who's been coming and going and if Skyler's lurking around. Before I go I'll head back and let you know what I've found to help you plan your jailbreak, and if you're ready to go by then I'll be glad to take part.”

  His friend gave him a relieved look. “That means a lot, Trapper. Thanks.”

  Tom snorted and began backing out of the hiding spot. “Keep your head down.” He hesitated, considering asking for one of the horses Brandon had used to bring up the weapons he planned to arm the freed slaves with; going without a mount had slowed down his search more than he would've liked, and it looked as if he had more distance to cover before all was said and done.

  But he couldn't in good conscience ask for an animal the skirmishers were going to need before long. There'd likely be wounded in the attack who'd have to ride to keep up, and probably supplies captured that would need to be hauled back to Camptown. Tom's legs had been good enough for him for a long time, now, and there was no reason he couldn't keep relying on them.