Outnumbered series Box Set | Vols. 1-6

by Schobernd, Robert

  "This is Momma, Zeb. I'm seeing the same thing on the west side, and I guess there are about ten or more. They just started moving through the trees and brush half a minute ago."

  Zeb cut in. "That's about the same number I've seen, maybe a dozen. Tom, Shane, you guys catch that?"

  I replied, "Good work, both of you. Don't sound the alarm. Stay down below the steel reinforcement so they can't shoot you. Since they might not know they've been spotted you've switched surprise from their side to our side."

  "Shane, Ed, John, Andrea, Morgan, Ira and Shana. Check in." All seven replied then waited for my directions. "Shana, get all ten children to the safe room. Ed, get some heavy duty weapons up to the second floor. I don't know what’s going on or what to expect, so get prepared for the worst. The rest of us will move everyone else upstairs to battle stations. The entire first level needs to be clear in ten minutes; it’s not a safe place to be in a firefight. Morgan, when you get upstairs check the four ammo storage bins and make sure there's plenty for a long siege. These guys don't appear to be here to sell us raffle tickets. Andrea, seek out Elsie and tell her to get a headcount ASAP to ensure everyone is upstairs. Ira, get Marcie and set up an emergency hospital in one of the interior rooms upstairs. That's it, let’s move. Until we know differently, prepare to be under attack."

  Foot traffic on the four stairways became hectic as people carried rifles and spare magazines and boxes of ammunition for their specific weapon to the second floor. Andrea, Marilyn Deutsch, and two of the Halcom girls packed large trays of roast beef, cheeses, home made bread and condiments up the stairs.

  Ed wore stern features as he plowed a path to the elevator carrying two Barrett M82A1 50 caliber rifles with night scopes. Behind him four young men and women he'd commandeered carried two M24 sniper rifles in their heavy black plastic cases and two of the older model SMAW rocket propelled grenade launchers. As I neared a stairway, I looked toward the elevator and saw Ed and two of his mules run with enthusiasm back in the direction of the underground heavy weapons armory. An ammo run I guessed. The elevator cage rose, and the two ladies escorted the weapons to the second floor.

  Upstairs I encountered organized confusion. Everyone looked grim as they went to their assigned stations. No one knew what to expect. I started directing people to battle stations or to stand by over by the food storage area and wait to be assigned.

  Verlie called me on the radio. "Two tank-looking vehicles are coming up the driveway. The first one is tan and the other is painted in camouflage patterns."

  "Tom," Zeb called, "the first one is a Humvee and the second is, I think, an armored personnel carrier like big city SWAT teams use."

  "Thanks, Zeb. You and Verlie get out of the watch towers and work with the rest of us. You make tempting target hanging out there. If they have any heavy weapons, I bet they'll be inclined to take those guard towers out first just to show us they can."

  The two vehicles approached slowly. The Humvee stopped a hundred feet from the gate; it looked familiar. I was sure I'd seen that particular vehicle before. If it belonged to who I thought it did that bothered me. The second vehicle stayed back another hundred feet. I watched through a gunport as a slender, brown haired, man was pushed from the Humvee, fell to the ground, and rolled. The APC behind it looked like an older model BearCat with medium grade armor. I grabbed a pair of binoculars and checked out the machine guns on each vehicle. The Humvee mounted a M249 5.56mm light machine gun on top and would be fired manually. The BearCat sported a heavier M240 7.62 mm. automated machine gun controlled from inside. We could match either one, and I knew Ed well enough to know he'd think of a way to take the BearCat completely out. Another man exited the passenger side of the Humvee. He wore full military garb, from his boots with bloused pants up to his cap. Captain's bars adorned his shirt collars. A big black man, early forties, tall and stocky but not fat. I panned to the other man who rose from the ground. I couldn't believe it. Nate Robard had lost about one-hundred-fifty pounds and was dressed in faded, torn camo pants and shirt. He stood and received a harsh shove toward the gate where a hand-held radio rested in a weatherproof box. His right hand sported a bloody bandage, and he carefully favored the hand.

  I heard Nate's wavering voice on my radio earpiece. "Tom Jacobs. . . This is Nate Robard. I'm a prisoner of these men. Captain Williams wants to talk to you."

  Ed looked grim as he passed me with one of the RPG units. He motioned up with his left thumb. He climbed up a fixed ladder to the metal roof and would open one of the sliding hatches we'd installed as a safety feature. Chain ladders were installed at each of the six openings, so they could be tossed over the side to reach the ground. Only Ed had no intention of escaping. One of Ed's mules followed right behind him carrying a hank of rope and two armor piercing rockets. As I stared, another mule, a female Halcom, carried two more rockets by me.

  An arrogant voice thundered in my earpiece. "Jacobs. This is Captain Ephraim Williams. My soldiers are here to take over your facility. If you don't comply, I'll kill Mr. Robard and his entire family when we overrun your position."

  "What makes you think we can't fight back, Captain?"

  "Mr. Robard was kind enough, with some harsh interrogation methods, to describe your headquarters in sufficient detail that I know the machine guns on my two APCs will blast through the steel siding of that building like it's sliced cheese. Don't attempt to play games with me, Mr. Jacobs, because I'm not a man to be trifled with. You have approximately twenty-four fighting people, half of whom are women and teenagers. The rest are children. Surely you don't want all of them injured or killed, do you? If your group surrenders and leaves now there will be no bloodshed or loss of life. I'm waiting for your answer, and I'm not a patient man."

  "We're a democracy, sir. I'll need time to gather our people and give them your ultimatum. I expect to be back shortly." Through the binoculars I saw the big blow ass smirk confidently as he hung our radio on his belt and stood with his chest pushed out and legs spread apart as he studied at our compound.

  Ed hollered down that he was ready when I was. I clicked my radio knowing Williams could hear me. In a subdued shaky voice, I said. "Folks, we have a bad situation. We're badly outnumbered and outgunned. I need everyone except Shana and the children to assemble immediately above door nine to discuss our likely surrender to the forces outside." I hoped Williams didn't catch the reference to above door nine instead of at door nine. Surely his mind would hang on my words of surrender. In minutes, everyone assembled. Most wore looks of confusion.

  "Turn off all radios, please. Are they off? Double check." Nods and yeses assured we wouldn't inadvertently tell Williams my plan. "First, we will not surrender. These madmen expect us to walk out and turn Deliverance over to them without a fight. That's not going to happen. That radio transmission was for the benefit of the scumbag outside." Grins quickly replaced the frowns and confused looks I'd caused earlier. "I want the two portable M240 machineguns, on the stands Ed designed, placed on the east and west sides near the center of the building. Disperse the four M249 squad machineguns on either side toward the ends of the building. Does anyone not remember the equipment you're assigned to? For you new people, those shelves installed at each gun port are for the M249 bipods to rest on."

  "Ed will take out the far vehicle first with an armor piercing RPG. Don't stick any rifle barrels through the gun ports until the first rocket fires. When you hear it fire, everyone is to lay down a barrage of rounds at the people concealed in the woods. They need to be wounded, killed, or pinned down so Ed can make a second shot at the Humvee closest to the gate. That takes out both of their mobile machineguns. Ed's vulnerable up at the roof because there's no armor plating to protect him. He has the most dangerous job of all, and we need to provide heavy cover fire for at least twenty seconds after the second rocket fires to allow him time to get back down here."

  I hesitated and looked to Vera Robard. "Nate is at the front gate. The head of this group insinuated N
ate was tortured to make him reveal information about our layout so they could attack us. Only when Nate was here, he didn't take an interest in the facility, so I'm guessing he couldn't tell them much. Also, we added the steel armor to the second floor, and Morgan's bunch joined us after Nate left, so we have many more defenders than they expect. Plus, only a few people knew the extent of the heavy weapons arsenal we have. I don't blame Nate for cooperating with them, and we'll attempt to avoid shooting him. But he could get hit since he may be in a cross fire between us and the attackers."

  Vera appeared uncomfortable with the news and simply nodded. Her M16 was held loosely in both hands. Elsie put her arm around Vera and hugged her close.

  I scanned the group in general. "I personally am going to target the blow ass leader of this group when the shooting starts. Are there any questions?"

  Ever the clown, Martin Radcliff Jr. asked, "What time is lunch being served?"

  We all chuckled. Martin Sr. shook his head and rolled his eyes upward.

  I turned to Ed. "When you're ready, do it. We'll cover you. Good luck, Pal."

  Ed trudged toward the ladder as he said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Fire in the hole within five minutes at the most. Be ready to lay heavy fire to protect my big ass."

  I barely remembered, "Turn the radios back on. We need to be able to communicate."

  My position on the south end of the building put me under the Deliverance sign mounted in the gable on that end of the building. Ed would be almost directly above me. Through a gunport I watched Williams pace back and forth with his head held high, arms folded on his chest, sure of his dominance. The impatient, arrogant twit was about to be taken down hard.

  I called Williams on the radio, "Sir, we'll need a few minutes to gather our personal belongings. It shouldn't take over ten minutes."

  My mind drifted as we waited. I stood two feet from the gun port watching Williams. Our situation was still dangerous. If William's force was comprised of ex-special forces, mercenaries, or even regular trained armed forces personnel, some of us could be wounded or killed. Simply because we held the important element of surprise on our side didn't mean this was a slam dunk win for our people. I thought of the other thirty-nine people on the second floor with me, and I dreaded having to deal with any of them being injured or killed. And the responsibility was all mine. I didn't ask for their buy-in. I assumed, right or wrong that all of them felt as I did and giving up our home and refuge was unthinkable.

  Abruptly, the roaring blast of a rocket shrieking out of its launch tube shook me out of my morose mood. I raised the M14 to my shoulder, stuck several inches of the barrel out the shooting port and sighted on Williams. He'd looked up to our roof when the rocket launched, but then spun on his heels toward the armored vehicles. The BearCat exploded, sending metal and human body fragments flying upward in a ball of smoke and flames. Williams stood with his back to me, body frozen in place, arms open wide and extended toward the sky. My rifle belched fire and lead toward his spine, starting slightly above his hips and walking upward to his neck in five shots. The warlord wannabe collapsed in a lifeless heap onto the ground.

  The noise in our confined space was deafening as thirty-four of us lay a withering wave of destruction toward the cover of the woods to give Ed time for another shot. Above the din we created, bullets smacked the sheet metal and steel plating like hail on a tin roof. I shifted my scope and found Nate hunkered tight to the ground as close as he could get to the chain-link fence surrounding our compound. I hoped he'd stay there with his head down and one arm wrapped around his head for protection. I shifted to the Humvee and fired at a man who rose through a roof panel to man the machinegun. He got off a short burst before I hit him in the chest twice. A split second later, a hole appeared in the Humvee's windshield as a rocket crashed through. Almost simultaneously, the old, lightly armored vehicle flew apart with body panels screaming fifty feet into the air amid flame, smoke and burnt, spit-sized offerings of the scum who'd shot at us.

  Everyone slacked off the rapid fire sequence a full half minute after the sound of the second explosion. They began carefully placing shots at specific targets. For ten minutes we traded shots. The attacker's bullets continued to pound the half-inch steel plating recently installed, but the intensity began to lag as the attacker’s numbers dwindled.

  A radio transmission stated, "Eli Allbee is down, he's dead." A minute later Zeb sadly announced, "Momma, Daddy, Morgan Jr. got hit. He's gone."

  I winced at the loss. Eli and Morgan were both good guys. But I couldn't spend time mourning dead men now.

  Ed stood close beside me and spoke, "Something strange is going on. Before I made the first shot I saw people jogging through the woods coming this way from the county road. At first, I thought reinforcements were on the way for these guys attacking us, but I was mistaken. Fast running zombies have slipped up behind those paramilitary guys. Let's step to the west side and see what the hells going on."

  What Ed said didn't make any sense. Zombies always attacked as a single group unless two groups came from different directions. And they were always noisy. They'd never quietly sneaked up on us. As we watched, whole bodied undead actually crept up behind the gunmen to attack them.

  Then I heard them. Ed and I looked to the south through the six-inch wide gunport. The wailing and screeching in the distance came from the slow-runners following behind their faster brethren. The paramilitary soldiers were caught between the zombies attacking them from behind and us. I yelled, "Let the zombies attack, and then kill them and the humans. If you get clear shots at both of them take both out."

  A call for Shane over the radio got my attention. "This is Ira. I need you in room thirty-seven. Janice has been shot and it's bad. Hurry!"

  I ran down the hall, dodging people without radios who didn't know about the emergency. Shane cut through a perpendicular hall and raced ten feet in front of me. At the field hospital he burst through the door, and I stopped behind him in the doorway and stared. Janice took a hit to the face. She was covered in blood and didn't respond as Ira continued to work on her. I'd seen enough battlefield injuries to be certain she wasn't going to survive the massive damage that had ripped the right side of her face and temple area away.

  Shane fell to his knees, gripped Janice's hand, and cried softly. He spoke her name several times and glanced up to Ira for some sign of hope. Ira looked as sad as I'd ever seen him as he shook his head. I said, "Come on buddy, she's gone, and we're in the way here." He struggled to stay put, then moved in a daze as I guided him to the door

  Vivian and Andrea took Shane's hands and gently pushed me away. They went down the hall trying to give comfort to a distraught friend while sending me to do my job.

  I left the clinic in a daze and found a gunport that wasn't manned. A target presented himself and I dropped him with a perfect head shot. He wouldn't become a zombie and have to be shot again.

  Sporadic shots continued to ring out as targets presented themselves. Only occasional gunfire was directed at us as the attackers now had more than enough to keep them busy. Some of their survivors ran from us and went deeper into the woods. That was a non-starter. The fast running zombies would hound them for hours on end, if the humans could last that long. My radio barked in my ear. Ed dolefully said, "Angie Butler is down. She took one in the throat and it blew her spinal cord out. James is here with her."

  I jogged back to the clinic and stopped at the doorway.

  From behind me and several feet away, a loud voice barked, "Make a hole! Wounded coming through." Ira pulled a sheet over Janice as I stepped clear. Morgan Halcom was carried into the room. Blood coved his right chest area, but he was still cognizant. Right behind him Verlie trotted in wearing a worried frown.

  Shooting died down to occasional rounds from our people. I turned to get back involved when Albert Gonzales escorted Kira to the clinic. She held a bloody towel to her left arm about three inches down from the shoulder. Her face was a little pal
e. Marcie and Ira were busy working on Morgan and stabilized his condition.

  Verlie turned and saw the new patient waiting. She wiped tears away as she spoke, "Let me see what you have Kira. I was a nurse some years ago." She looked closely and probed the split skin with a stainless steel tool she picked up from Ira's supply table. "You'll be fine, dear. The bullet just broke the skin and plowed a small furrow. I'll clean it and put in sutures, and then Ira can inspect it when he's free."

  I couldn't fathom how calm she appeared after losing her oldest son and a best friend and knowing her husband was only feet away being operated on.

  My gaze met Kira's eyes, and I winked at her and nodded encouragement. She said, "Thanks, Tom," and grinned weakly at me. Then I hurried out still appreciating the beautiful lady's warm attention.

  Shooting finally stopped. I assumed the zombies were down and our invaders had been killed or run off. I looked through a south gunport and saw Nate cautiously raise his head to look around. Eerie silence pervaded as he got up on his knees and used the links in the chain-link fence to pull himself up with his left hand. I grabbed Jeff Tanka and Sam Williams and headed for the front gate.

  On the radio, I called Ed. "Ed, will you get the cleanup started until I get back? I also need someone to go to the southeast watch tower and open the gate so we can bring Nate inside. Then the people assigned to this shift's watch duty need to man the towers or have someone fill in for them. Tell them to stay low until we scour the woods for any lingering outlaws."

  The three of us reached the gate seconds after the ten-foot high section began to slide open. Both burning military vehicles emitted dense black smoke that slowly rose and drifted to blot out the nearby line of trees.

  Nate sheepishly approached us, a worried look and stooped posture evidence he was hurting more than just physically. Cuts and bruises crisscrossed his face. A swollen black eye and a large yellowish-purple bruise marred the left side of his face. He limped, favoring his right leg.