I took stock of our defense capabilities. From my location, I could see the western face of the wall. The wall itself was a concrete exterior supported by sheet steel and was strong enough to repel most small arms fire. It had also been camouflaged on the outward side by a sloping berm of dirt and grass. The berm was there to help defeat any explosive devices which might be employed against us as well as serving to hide the existence of our stronghold from most casual observers.
“Virgil!”
I turned to see the source of the voice and saw Buck walking toward me, with Jimmy at his side. Buck was lugging both of our M-240s, one on each shoulder, while Jimmy carried one of our grenade launchers in his hand with the second one slung over his back. The machineguns were heavy, and I wondered how Buck managed both of them at the same time.
Buck caught me looking and held out one of the big guns. “I got five people gathering ammo belts and tripods from down below. They’ll be here shortly.” He pointed to where the western edge of the wall formed a corner with the wall on the southern side. “Set up over there, use the tripod and have one of the ammo runners assist you with reloading the belts if we have to go to war here.” He pointed to the opposite corner of the wall. “I’ll be over there. That’ll give us overlapping fields of fire.”
Buck was sweating heavily, and he was breathing fast. I was a bit surprised that even this battle-hardened veteran was scared, just like I was. He fixed me with a severe expression. “If this goes down, you can’t hesitate, Virgil. You can’t look at a pretty girl or a younger teen and decide not to shoot them if they’re advancing up that hill. That person might get closer and kill you or Pepper or any of your friends. If so, that’ll be on you, son.” He gripped my shoulder. “I’m assigning the M-240 to you because I’ve seen you use it. I have faith in you, Virgil. Keep us safe.”
With that, he spun around and headed for the other corner. His words propped me up a little and chased away some of my trepidation.
I heard a rattling sound and looked to see Pepper, Mona and a young guy from the Marcus group wheeling a cart in my direction. The vessel was overflowing with ammunition belts, magazines, and grenade pods. On top of it all sat the tripod for my weapon. The device gave the gun good stability and increased the ability of the operator to acquire and stay on target.
The Major came striding through the compound as I laid out the tripod and ammo belts. He went directly to the table where Dwayne was still leaning forward to study the images the fixed-wing was transmitting to the laptop. Mona handed me a handful of magazines which I stacked up on one side of the wall and Pepper and the unnamed lad continued to drape the long ammo strips over a collapsible table we had set up on the other side. In this manner, I could access the ammunition reloads with equal ease. I planned on using the belts as long as possible because they contained three hundred rounds as compared to the one hundred rounds the magazines possessed.
The Major drew my attention when he slapped the table and pointed at something in the laptop view screen. I saw him reach for his walkie and felt my radio vibrate.
“Everyone, this is Major Morrison, stop what you’re doing for a second and listen to me.” He paused until the buzz of activity around us grew quieter and then ceased altogether. Everyone who had a radio was holding their handsets out to allow the people around them to hear the broadcast. “Our source shows enemy has breached the gate and five vehicles are making their way slowly up the driveway. At their current slow speed, it will take them approximately five or six minutes to get close enough for them to see our towers. If they continue after that, they will be able to view our walls in another three or four minutes.”
The Major released the send button, and I looked over to see him wiping sweat from his forehead and wiping his wrist on his pants. He continued. “The vehicles I’m looking at appear to be ambulances even though that makes no sense. I don’t want anyone firing until I give the signal to do so. We have a little reception planned for these vehicles, but I don’t want the enemy to see any more of our defenses than we absolutely have to show. For now, everyone stay low, keep your heads beneath the walls until I give the word to engage them. Morrison, out!”
I saw him hook his walkie back on his belt and walk over to where Pops was talking to Sharon. She looked frightened, and he was doing his best to calm her. Pops kept an arm around her shoulder as he conferred with the Major. They spoke for a while and ended their conversation with a fist bump, the Major heading for the wall and Pops and Sharon heading toward the mansion. His path took him close to my station on the wall. He caught me looking at him questioningly, and he veered to where I was set up.
“What’s going on, Pops?”
He dropped his arm from around Sharon’s shoulder and took her hand in his. “The Major says the five vehicles are driving slow because their infantry are following them. It looks like a mix of the gang bangers and the military group. The obvious conclusion to draw is that the vehicles are expected to shield the ground troops from our small arms fire.”
“The ambulances…they’re probably armored cars?” That was the logical assumption for me to make.
Pops nodded. “That’s the most likely possibility.”
I considered this information while Pepper and Mona continued to hand me ammo belts. “Will they stand up to .308s?” I was referring to the ammunition that my M-240 used.
“We’ll see. If not we have a few tricks we can throw at them.” He turned to watch as the Major walked by us and entered the mansion. “Right now, let’s just trust Bob Morrison; that’s why we brought him here.” He looked at my battle station with the M-240 and ammo belts ready for action and gripped my shoulder. “Stay safe, Son. Don’t expose yourself unnecessarily. You’re the real reason I built Dragon’s Lair.”
And then he was gone, leading Sharon back into the mansion by the hand. I watched him go for a moment, thinking about what he had said. It had never occurred to me that Pops was thinking of my safety when he had our retreat built, I always thought it was just him carrying out a long-held fantasy.
“I’m going to help you load.” Pepper’s voice brought me out of my brief reverie.
Mona grinned. “I guess that means I’m helping too. Pep and I are still attached at the hip. What should I do?”
I gave the girls a few pointers as to how they could keep me supplied with ammunition belts and magazines. We just had time for a few minutes of idle chatter and a few tense jokes when my walkie crackled.
“All stations be advised, the vehicles that are advancing on us will be in sight of the towers in approximately two minutes. They are being followed by about forty people who are armed and on foot. Once again, no one is to fire unless and until I give the order to turn weapons free. That last order is crucial. Keep your heads down and stay safe.”
✽✽✽
Gilberto “Gil” Valencia was so scared he thought he might actually soil himself. He wondered silently, for the hundredth time, why he was even here.
Gil had been ordered by Lobo to drive one of the armored cars up the hill in an attack on the people who lived up there. Gil understood that the hilltop group had launched a few attacks against the Mojados and their new allies and that his leader was angry. What he didn’t comprehend was why Lobo, himself, wasn’t behind the wheel of one of the trucks. Gil had begged Arturo to let him ride this one out, stay back out of harm’s way along with Lobo and the others who were not going to be participating in the slow-rolling assault.
“Your name is on Jefe’s list,” the big man had waved the sheet of paper so Gil could see it. “You want me to tell him you want out?”
That had settled that. There were no doubts in Gil’s mind as to how that little act of defiance would end. At least the armored cars were shielded against rifle fire, or so he had been told.
“No one needs to worry about the trucks we’re sending,” Lobo had announced to the Mojados while standing on an inverted bucket during a meeting in the big hangar earlier. “They are full
y armored and will stand up to anything those bitches throw at us. You’re all safe; drivers and skirmishers both, just make sure to stay behind the trucks. Now go out there and show those army guys how the Mojados kick ass.”
There had been a cheer at his words, but Gil wasn’t so sure that everything Lobo said was correct. After all, he wasn’t putting himself at risk in the least. He and Arturo would be sitting safely inside the big Stryker along with Arlo and his new second-in-command. Gil was still wondering why the big tank-like vehicle wasn’t participating in this attack.
Gil kept the vehicle at a crawling pace. A peek in the side mirror showed him the eight men and women who were using his truck as cover were still there, moving forward with their heads held low and their rifles ready. He glanced back through the windshield and was shocked to see the tops of two round towers peeking over the top of a natural ridge.
Gil trembled as he continued to inch the truck forward. He expected the enemy to start shooting at him at any minute, but nothing happened. The line of armored cars continued their slow advance with no response from the people at the hilltop.
Hope was born in Gil’s mind. Maybe the people up there had decided they didn’t want to risk a war with a force as large as the combined assets of the Mojados and the ex-military. Maybe they had abandoned their hideout and were now slinking their way down the hill behind their stronghold, leaving their treasures behind them. Gil took a deep breath and noticed his hands had stopped trembling.
“Maybe this won’t be so bad,” he said to himself out loud.
✽✽✽
The tops of the five blue and white vehicles were now visible over the crest of the ridge. The rim of the natural swell of dirt and grass was about one hundred and fifty yards away.
I was hunched over with my head just barely high enough to allow me to see over the wall. I glanced back over my shoulder to the towers. The Major would be up there behind one of the M2s with Jimmy operating the second gun. Like Pops, I had faith in Major Morrison, but I wondered why he was letting these guys get so close to us. Looking back out over the field in front of us I could make out more of the slow-moving trucks now, and I could see a few heads bobbing behind them. The people on foot were more worrisome to me than the vehicles. Each one of them would soon be swarming our walls trying to kill my friends and me.
I checked the M-240 and curled my finger around the trigger. I had seen the destructive power of the portable machine gun first hand. It was comforting to have it propped up in front of me, waiting for me to send its lethal rain of lead downrange.
I caught movement to my left and turned to see Pepper peering over the wall.
“Get your head down,” I ordered.
She shot me a frown, but she did what I told her. The last thing I needed was to have to split my attention from my weapon to her safety. Too many people would be counting on me. My M-240 and the one Buck was handling would be our primary line of defense.
The five armored cars were now cresting the ridge. They were still the length of one and a half football fields away, but I could make out more details. They were mostly white with pale blue strips painted along the sides. The windshields were narrow slits with armored louvers along the edges to deflect bullets. The cube-like bodies attached to the cabs showed firing ports along both sides, and I could see rifle barrels bristling from each one.
The first shot caught me by surprise, and I instinctively ducked even though the bullet had not struck anywhere near me. A few more pops sounded as the infantry behind the trucks spotted our walls with the earthen berms sloped up on the sides.
I itched to release my first belt of bullets, but there was still no order from the Major to do so. I snatched the walkie from its case and checked it to ensure it was still functional then jammed it back after verifying it was.
Full-automatic rifle fire now peppered the western side of the wall. The slugs did absolutely nothing to us. The small arms fire didn’t even penetrate the concrete and steel wall because the dirt berm captured the projectiles long before they could reach it. A few rounds were passing close overhead now, so I hunkered down even more.
I couldn’t resist another quick peep up at the south tower where I knew the Major was watching everything. I could see a few pock marks in the concrete where the enemy targeted the towers. The north spire had one window shattered already, and I prayed Jimmy had been out of the line of fire when that bullet struck.
The Major’s voice came out of my walkie. “Buck and Virgil, light ‘em up, keep their heads down.”
I swallowed hard then rose up until I could see the sights on my weapon. The five vehicles were now a hundred yards away, and I could see the people behind them. They had gotten encouraged by the lack of return fire, and several were out to the sides or in between the covering armored cars, shooting at us with a total lack of caution.
I kept my eyes on my sights and slid my finger over the smooth, rounded trigger, increasing pressure until my weapon erupted in a lethal rain of death. The M-240 was designed for this type of situation, and it lived up to expectations. The infantry members that had abandoned the protection of the advancing vehicles and were now exposed started to fall or dash for cover. I heard Buck open up with his weapon on the other side of the compound. In less than a second, I observed approximately a dozen people torn apart by the lethal .308 bullets. The small arms fire from the trucks ceased immediately, and I shifted my aim to the armored cars.
A modern-day armored car has several features besides the hardened body and bullet-resistant windshield. One was run-flat tires, made from solid rubber with no air inside them. One could plunge a knife into the side of them, and it would not affect the vehicle’s ability to travel. I swept my fire over the windshields of three of the trucks and then concentrated on the front tires of one of them.
The special tires were made to withstand punctures and the occasional gunshot, but they weren’t built to withstand a constant barrage of high-caliber military ammunition. The wheel on the left side of the truck dissolved in an explosion of black rubber and twisted metal as the armored vehicle lurched forward another five feet, then stopped.
“Reload,” I shouted.
I yanked open the action on my gun and reached out. Pepper immediately passed me another belt, and I carefully positioned the first round to ensure it chambered correctly. I then slammed the top home and yanked back on the charging handle.
My eyes found the sights and then the armored car whose tire I had just shredded. It was now trying to back up on the three remaining wheels and seemed to be succeeding. The people who had been using it for cover had bled off behind the other trucks which were still advancing. I aimed the now-exposed wheel assembly of the armored car and fired off another stream. The hub was not shielded, and it could not stand up to the rain of destruction. It bent to an angle, then broke completely off. The truck lurched to one side and then stopped moving, stuck in the loose soil of the hillside.
The people on the outside of the trucks had resumed shooting at us after recovering from the shock of having their barrage returned. Most were leaning out from behind the armored cars and firing around the sides. With one of their trucks disabled, there was now a gap in their line, and that gave me a small window into which I poured my torrent of steel-encased lead. I could see where my bullets were hitting, and I walked them down the side of one truck and right into the torso of a big guy with a bald head. He had been aiming a tube-like device in our direction, and I thought it might be some kind of rocket launcher. The .308s struck him like a sledgehammer. He hit the trigger on his weapon as he made a jerking motion followed by a pirouette before hitting the ground. The tube he was holding spurted fire from both ends, and I glimpsed something being propelled out of the front of it and fly high over the compound. Realizing that my guess about it being a rocket launcher was correct, I took aim at the dropped launcher itself and poured the rest of my ammo belt onto it. When my bolt locked open the tube thing no longer even resembled any
type of gun, just twisted metal scrap.
“Reload.”
Mona was already waiting with another belt, and she held the other end while I loaded. When I snapped the top breach closed she slapped me on the back and ducked back down behind the wall.
I was sighting in on another armored car when a bullet struck the wall just in front of me and sprayed concrete dust into my eyes. For a micro-second, I thought I had been shot in the face, and the pain made me fall backward off of my perch into the dust of the compound.
“Virgil!” Pepper screamed, and jumped up to help me.
I could barely see out of my watering eyes and felt the grit against my eyelids. I also realized the bullet missed my head and I was going to live.
“I’m all right, I’m all right,” I yelled, trying to be heard over the gunfire.
Pepper had my head in her hands and was examining me. She turned to shout at someone off to her side, probably Mona. “Get the water jug.”
I heard the walkie at my side come to life. “Virgil, get your gun back in battery. Now!”
I started scratching at the holster on my side, but Pepper yanked the radio free and pushed the send button. “He’s hurt, but he’ll be okay. Give us a minute.”
I was impressed at the calmness with which she was handling things. A minute later I perceived a shadow arrive out of the corner of my clogged vision and then Pepper was flushing out my eyes with water. She held each eyelid open with her fingers and doused them thoroughly until I had to sit up, shaking my head to clear it.
Virgil's War- The Diseased World Page 33
