I wiped at my face with dirty hands until I got the water out of my eyes, then I opened them and looked around us. Pepper was kneeling in the dirt and Mona was beside her with one arm draped protectively around her shoulder.
I could see them clearly now that the dust was gone. I took a last swipe at my face with my sleeve and gave them both a grateful smile. “Thanks, guys. Now let’s get back to work.”
My M-240 had tipped upward on its tripod after I fell, the barrel now pointed at the sky. I gripped the pistol stock and swiveled it back down. The first thing I could see was that the cars were much closer now. There were a good twenty of the enemy infantry lying dead around the hillside, but the trucks kept up their inexorable advance.
I aimed at the windshield of the closest truck and held my trigger down. The glass on the armored car was capable of stopping a few bullets fired by one or more robbers intent on getting at the cash inside. It was not intended to resist the onslaught of a full belt of high-powered fully automatic fire. My bullets blasted away the protective louvers, and the windshield sprouted a string of stars across its span. The clear thick glass turned white; then the entire thing exploded inward. The driver jerked and popped behind the wheel, spraying the metal barrier behind him with gore. The truck pitched to the side then stopped moving forward.
I yelled for another belt and, while I worked the mechanism to reload, I noticed the truck next to the one I had just disabled. It too had stopped moving forward, and smoke was now billowing out of the hood. Buck was still pouring a torrent of bullets into the vehicle. The windshield was totally destroyed, and the driver was struggling to get his door open. He was obviously wounded, and the door seemed too heavy for him to manage.
That left only two more armored cars operational. The people who were following the trucks had now mostly moved over behind them. Some were hunkered down behind the damaged vehicles, and I could see a few of them running down the hill, abandoning all desire to continue their assault.
The two operational armored cars were now close, too close for my comfort. The radio crackled again, and the Major’s voice came over the radio.
“All stations, get your heads down.”
I had a fraction of a minute to obey his orders and scrunched down while putting a hand on Pepper’s head and urging her to get low.
The fifty caliber M2 in the tower overhead roared like a dragon breaking its chains. I raised my head until just my eyes were over the edge of the wall. The final two armored cars were now only ten yards distant. I assumed the Major also thought that was too close for comfort and let the big machine gun do what it was designed to do.
The sight of the destruction from just one of our big guns was shocking. The fifty caliber bullets shredded the two armored trucks like they were made of tissue paper. The cabs were ground up like pieces of cheddar, and the boxes on back exploded into scrap metal. Nobody in those two vehicles survived the first fifteen seconds of the barrage. Behind the two forward-most trucks, several of the people following them on foot were cut down in a horrifying manner with body parts and liquids being flung into the air. The kinetic energy produced when such a large bullet strikes a mostly fluid-filled human body is something I wish I could scour from my memory.
The Ma Deuce then sought out the disabled armored cars. They were no longer moving, but they were still being used to provide cover for the people who were shooting at us. The gruesome stream of destruction from the fifty acted like a laser beam from the science fiction movies I used to watch. Each truck, in turn, was utterly destroyed, torn to fragments. The people who had been riding inside the vehicles, using the firing ports to assault our position were disassembled; there was no other way to describe it.
With their rolling cover destroyed and over half of their number along with them, the remaining twenty or so people had two choices. They could turn around and run back down the hill while hoping we wouldn’t shoot them in the back or they could take advantage of how close they had gotten to our walls and charge us. Most of them decided on the former, but eight of them foolishly opted for the latter. To this day I can’t explain why anyone would be so stupid as to decide they would throw themselves at us when we had already demonstrated both our ability and our willingness to defend ourselves with overwhelming power. Maybe it was blind devotion to their cause or unbridled fury at the sight of so many of their brethren lying dead or dying around them.
I didn’t have time to ponder their reasoning though, because they were running up the slope of the dirt berm on the other side of the wall in a matter of seconds. I swung the M-240 in their direction and blew five of them apart just as they crested the berm. Their bodies jerked and spasmed before falling over backward, propelled by the energy from the .308 bullets.
Two of the three who got over the wall were immediately cut down by more than a dozen of our people. The third man had the misfortune to leap down from the wall and land directly in front of Isaac. The near-giant brought down his clenched fist on top of the man’s head, dropping him like a shotgunned deer.
A few of our people began firing at the fleeing assaulters until the Major used the radio to call them off. I counted twelve of them sprinting down the hill. Most of them had dropped their rifles and were thus defenseless when a pack of Ragers, drawn by the deafening sounds of war, descended upon them. The ones who were still armed started shooting at the mindless mob but, in their terror, they were firing their weapons on full-auto and quickly expended their ammunition. The infected then descended upon them, and human bodies were bitten, scratched, pulled and twisted into gory scraps of flesh.
I was watching the sight in absolute horror. The crazies overtook most of the escaping enemy infantry, but two of them, a woman in her forties and a man barely out of his teens broke away and took off running in opposite directions, the man running up the hill and the woman stumbling and rolling down. She checked her fall and came up running just as two afflicted men and a boy child about ten years old reached her. One of the infected grabbed her load-bearing vest and tried to pull her down, but the woman twisted her shoulders and tore herself free of the grasping fingers. The child tripped and fell, rolling under the feet of the second adult, taking him down in a spinning torrent of legs and arms. The Rager who had lost his grasp on his prey reached out again. He was two paces behind the woman when she drew a pistol from somewhere in her clothing with her right hand. She never stopped to look back or slow her flight; she just laid the semi-auto pistol on her left shoulder and pulled the trigger. She kept shooting until the slide locked to the rear. She hit her closest pursuer at least twice. He hit the sloping ground and rolled so fast that he passed her up for a brief moment before she put his bleeding body behind her.
From behind my weapon, I found myself cheering the lady on. I knew she had just been part of a pack of people who were trying to kill me and everyone about whom I cared. It didn’t matter though, this was another struggle entirely, that of a human being against an enraged and senseless beast with murder as his objective.
It dawned on me that the din of battle had quieted with only an occasional crack of rifle fire coming from inside the walls. My first impulse was to check on Pepper. She was standing on tiptoes now, trying to see over the defensive barrier. Mona was right next to her, and they were whispering something to each other which I couldn’t hear.
My radio vibrated. “All stations, stand down” the Major transmitted. “Sentries resume your scheduled watches; everyone else get your meals and bathroom breaks taken care of. Dan, Marcus, Buck, Isaac and Jimmy; meet me in the compound by the drone station.”
I cleared my M-240 and slung it, then went to where Buck was stacking unused ammo belts and mags onto one of the supply carts.
“I’ll get this, Buck. Hand me your weapon, and I’ll get it cleaned and stored.”
“Negative on that, Virgil.” It was the Major speaking again. He had come down from the tower into the compound, followed by Jimmy and Marie. “Get someone who knows what they�
�re doing to clean them but don’t put them away. Get them both set up right back where you and Buck were. From now on they stay ready on station. After you assign that detail to someone, come and join us at the drone table.”
Pepper and her shadow were still by my corner station, so I showed them how to open the action on the guns, clean and lubricate them and then put them back on their tripods. I told Pepper to stand by mine and grabbed the kid who had been helping the girls with the ammo carts earlier and told him to remain on watch over the other one.
“Under no circumstances are you to let anyone else near them. If anyone gives you a problem, call the Major or me ASAP!” I tossed her my walkie.
Over at the table, Dwayne had still not moved from the drone control station and laptop. It had been quite a long time since he had been relieved, but he looked like he was okay. The kid was twisting a button on the control device and squinting, then he reached up to grab Pops’ arm and pointed at the monitor.
“Movement, Academy gate,” he said without emotion, all business.
Pops bent over and was watching the screen when I arrived with the Major next to him. I used my tiptoes to see over their heads. The HD image showed the woman who had escaped our barrage and the infected horde. She was arriving at the gate at the bottom of our two-mile driveway. There were three pickup trucks and the big Stryker parked there now. Two women poured out of one of the wheeled tanks and wrapped the lucky survivor in their arms. They were doing their best to comfort her when the three idiots we had spoken to earlier came walking out of the same vehicle. They surrounded the woman and sent the other two back inside the Stryker. It was clear that they were getting her report on the failure of the mission.
At one point, the little guy drew back a hand like he was going to slap the survivor, but the black guy stepped in between them. Movement at the other end of the big wheeled tank caught my eye, and I looked to see a younger man dressed in army camouflage. He was leaning against the vehicle trying to appear casual, but I noted he had his sidearm in his hand and hidden behind his thigh. The sight made me suspect that there was little trust between the two factions.
Eventually, the ex-officer completed his questioning of the woman and sent her over to one of the trucks. He walked over to the two Mojados and spoke to them for a few seconds before the one who had called himself Lobo reached up to pull at his hair. A moment later the smaller man grew visibly irate and began kicking at one of the oversized tires on the Stryker. He continued this irrational behavior until the big guy with the gut pulled him away and led him inside the big vehicle. The other men followed, and the drawbridge closed. We observed puffs of exhaust smoke coming from the tailpipes of all four trucks, and then they were headed south on Academy Avenue. We watched them as they turned west on Shaw and headed away from us, back toward the town.
The Major straightened up and put a hand on Dwayne’s shoulder. “You need to be relieved, son? You’ve been at this all day.”
The kid swiped a handful of blonde bangs out of his eyes and shook his head. “No, I want to make sure they are really giving up for the day,” he answered. He stole a brief look at the Major. “I could use a cup, though. Sugar too, three spoons.”
The Major grinned and patted his shoulder again. He caught Marie’s attention. “Would you mind terribly getting this young man a cup of coffee, Marie? I wouldn’t ask but…”
Marie cut him off. “Oh, stop it, Bob, I’ll be glad to. I’ll bring the boy out some food, too.” She hustled off on her mission.
The Major turned to myself, Pops, Jimmy, Buck, and Isaac. “Anyone have any casualties? Virgil, I heard you got hurt?”
I made a waving away motion. “Nothing, just a little dust in my eyes. Pepper took care of me.”
I caught Pops looking my way and noted the look of pride in his eyes.
“Okay, listen up,” the Major ordered. “I’d like to say we kicked their ass and they won’t return. While that’s possible, I don’t expect it to be the case. They’ve already demonstrated a lack of sanity when it comes to our existence. With the number of times, we have met them and triumphed, any sane person would want to cut their losses and move on. I think it’s probable that there are some personal dynamics taking place behind the scenes that are driving their single-mindedness.
“Regardless of the reasons, I expect things to get even uglier than they have been.” He looked to the north and south of us and took a long, slow breath before releasing it. “We can’t expect them to try to hit us only from the west anymore. Even the idiot who is leading the ex-military force isn’t that stupid. I’m a bit shocked that he tried it this time. No, next time they’ll probably try to feint with an attack in one direction while the true effort will come from somewhere else, either the north or the south. There is plenty of real estate out there that can be crossed on foot.”
I raised my hand. “Sir, what about that tank thing? Do we have anything that can stop it? I could be wrong but, if they had thrown that against us this time I think they probably would have broken through.”
Pops nodded his agreement. “I was wondering the same thing.” He pointed to the grenade launcher that Isaac was carrying. “Will those grenades stop it?”
Buck jumped in to answer this one. “No way. The armor on a Stryker would not be affected. To kill a tank like that you have to hit the wheels hard or use an explosion big enough to penetrate the armor plate.”
The Major sighed and ran his hand through his hair. I noticed then that he didn’t look like he’d been getting much sleep.
“All right,” he said finally. “We all need to get some food and water. We’ll relieve the watches on station for meals, and then I need everyone here in the common room for a strategy meeting.” He looked at me. “Virgil, can you make sure the drones are ready to go? I need one of the helos up to support the fixed wing. I want one watching the enemy and the other over our location at all times.”
I signaled my readiness to comply.
“One last thing and then we can go grab some food,” he said. “My gut tells me this is going to get bad fast. Everyone needs to be told to stay aware at all times. The enemy’s actions so far tell me they are going to kill us or die trying.”
Chapter 22
“It wasn’t my fault!” Lobo was standing next to Arturo in the parking lot of the motel in which Arlo’s people slept. He shouted with such intensity that the Mojados leader was spraying saliva.
Arturo started to prepare himself to grab his boss in case the man lunged at one of the former soldiers, but then he reconsidered. He had been through this type of situation so many times in the last few days that he was sick of it. If Lobo wants to commit suicide by attacking armed soldiers, he decided, he would just let it happen this time.
Maybe Lobo intuited his friend’s mindset because he seemed to get himself somewhat under control. He looked around himself seeing a few dozen of the ex-soldiers who were in the parking lot watching him. The lack of composure was not helping to convince them he was fit to lead.
Lobo took a deep breath and held it for a long time before releasing it, then he looked at Arlo and Barrett and smiled. “It really wasn’t my fault, guys,” he said in a calm tone. “The plan was solid. The people we sent must have screwed up, gotten scared or something.”
Barrett whispered something to Arlo. The very thought that the two were keeping something from him caused a bit of Lobo’s submerged fury to rise again.
Arlo nodded and turned back to the two gang bangers. “I gave you twenty people. One of them came back alive.” He pointed at Lobo, and the anger in his expression was unmistakable. “You were convinced they didn’t have anything more powerful than .308 rifles. Our survivor said they opened up with a machine gun that ripped the armored trucks to pieces in seconds.” The former lieutenant slammed his fist on the hood of a truck he’d been leaning against. “Thirty-nine people on foot and five driving the trucks. All dead.”
Arlo looked at his feet as he seemed to be consideri
ng something then his head snapped toward Lobo. The leader of the disgraced military unit took three quick steps closer to Lobo while drawing his pistol. He was a foot away when he leveled the gun, pointing it directly at the little man’s head.
“I should kill you right here, right now.”
Arturo sighed. He knew if Lobo was executed, he would probably be next. The big Segundo didn’t move forward because the man named Barrett had drawn his weapon even though he held it with the barrel pointed down. Arturo had no doubt the soldier was capable of killing him. Instead, he raised both hands, palms held outward, in a placating gesture.
“Okay, people, let’s just take us a minute to breathe here.” He nodded his head in Arlo’s direction. “C’mon, man, lower your weapon. Killing Lobo will make us weaker, not stronger.”
“He’s responsible for the deaths of nineteen of my people.” Arlo did not lower his weapon or avert his eyes from his intended victim.
“I know what you mean, Lieutenant,” the big man said in a tone that he hoped would be regarded as conciliatory. He also thought using the man’s former rank would help. “But remember, your first plan didn’t go off without a hitch either. And we both lost people in those fights.” He looked over at Barret.
“I’m gonna lower my hands now; they’re getting tired.”
Arlo’s second-in-command gestured for him to do so. He didn’t holster his weapon, though.
Arturo folded his big arms across his chest. “If you think about it, the operation wasn’t a total failure.”
With his handgun still an inch from Lobo’s head and his attention fixed on the Mojado leader, Arlo frowned. “How the hell do you get that?”
“Think about it. You said you wanted more intelligence before making a full assault, right? We didn’t know what they had up there. Well, now we at least know they have something powerful enough to cut through armored cars like paper. I don’t know what kind of machine gun can do that, but I’m bettin’ you two know.”
Virgil's War- The Diseased World Page 34
