Arlo walked over to where Lobo was standing and put a hand on his shoulder. He gently turned the smaller man around. “Like I said, it is already calibrated. Did you have something you wanted to discuss?”
Though it was apparent that he resented Arlo pulling him away, Lobo kept a false smile on his face. “Yeah, when are we going to get this show started?”
Arlo took a seat and gestured toward one of the racks across from where he was. Lobo took the hint and sat down.
“The show, as you put it, has already started. As we speak, I have a party out to the north which is sneaking up on the Hillside stronghold. They will begin a harassment operation shortly in which they will execute small attacks throughout the night. The intent is to strike them with sniper and rocket fire, then fade away and hit them again a half hour or so later. They will keep it up all night, preventing the defenders from getting any sleep.
“While this is going on, I have another team heading to the south which will do the same thing. With the attacks coming from both sides, the Hilltop people will have to divide their forces to defend themselves in all directions. Meantime, they will still be forced to keep a sizable portion of their people stationed right up there.” He pointed to where the driveway led up the hill. “They know we can use their beautifully paved road to attack them at top speed and with full force.” He sat back and allowed himself a small grin. “Pretty standard stuff, but it has been proven effective throughout history. We’ll harass them for another two nights until they are exhausted and bleary-eyed, then we’ll strike them from all three directions at once. They won’t know what hit them.”
“So what do we do?” Lobo asked. “I have forty-two people standing by, ready to fight.”
“Do whatever you want. Take the next two days off and get some rest if you want. Send them up the driveway and let ‘em attack the front wall; I don’t care; my people will handle this phase of the plan.”
Lobo shook his head after studying the Ex-Army officer for a moment. “I don’t want my people just standing around. If you didn’t have a use for them why did you have me bring ‘em out here? We could have stayed in the hangar.”
Arlo sighed, making sure it was loud enough that the two Mojados heard him. “Try to listen to what I say and understand it.” He used both hands to indicate the area around them. “We are doing two things here. One; we are showing the people on the hill that we have significant resources down here by their gate. I want them to see well over a hundred people below them, waiting for the time that we can swarm all over them. We want them scared.”
Arlo stretched his left leg out straight. It was the leg that was most severely burned and the one which gave him the most pain. The tramadol was flooding through his system now, blunting the throbbing pain. “The other thing is like what the big man here noted the last time we spoke. These guys rarely do what we expect of them. I don’t know if they are stupid enough to think they could come speeding down the hill and break through our blockade but, if they are, I need every gun we have on station to take them down. Follow me now?”
“Yeah, I follow you,” Lobo nodded. “But I like what you said about harassing them from different directions so, yeah, I think I will send some of my people up that pretty blacktopped driveway.” Lobo looked at Arturo. “We got our own ex-military people, you know. Pick out about five of ‘em and send them up there. We don’t need any Hollywood heroics, just take a few shots at them from scattered positions. Keep their heads down. They will be taking fire from three directions instead of two. They won’t know how to react.” The small man raised up in his seat and released a long stream of flatulence, then continued talking. “And I want you to lead them, Turo.”
The leader of the Mojados had already decided that his Segundo had to go. There had been too many instances lately in which he had questioned the leader’s authority and judgment. Lobo didn’t think the big man would try to lead an insurrection against him, but, should he decide to walk away, there would probably be a sizeable portion of the gang going with him.
The Hilltop people had exhibited remarkable abilities in the days that the two allied groups had been fighting them. They were not only well equipped; the tactics they used had been superior to the ones put forward by Arlo. Lobo knew he couldn’t just put a bullet into Arturo’s skull when his back was turned, however much he wanted to. The backlash would result in his being overthrown as the leader of the Mojados. Arturo’s loyalty to Lobo was well known, and no one would buy any story that Lobo could cook up about his former friend.
So, the only option left to him was to give the big man a hero’s death. Sending him and a handful of people against the main defensive position was the perfect plan. Lobo would claim that Arturo had insisted on the mission even though he, Lobo, had cautioned against it. It was perfect.
Upon hearing the order, Arturo stared at his leader and immediately understood what was happening. This was it, the purge he was expecting. Whether he lived or died in the next few hours depended upon what he said and how he acted right here and right now. The Segundo let his shoulders relax and felt the tension drain away from his body. The strain of holding back his true feelings had been more taxing than finally confronting the man. Arturo cleared his throat.
“I’m not gonna do that.”
Lobo was genuinely surprised. He suspected Arturo was capable of contrary opinions, but he never thought he had the mental toughness in him to openly rebel. The smaller man could not keep his lower jaw from dropping into a gape.
Gathering control of his facial features, Lobo released the demon that he was harboring in his mind. He jumped up from the vehicle’s rack and rushed his old friend, one hand folded into a fist and the other grabbing at the snap of his holster.
When there was only a foot of distance between them, Arturo released a powerful openhanded slap that stopped the forward momentum of his boss. The feet of the Mojados leader flew skyward, but his head and upper torso slammed down onto the metal floor of the Stryker. The ‘thoom’ sound emanating from the collision of metal and flesh was loud.
Lobo saw bright points of light floating in his vision as he stared upward at the pipes and wires of the vehicle’s interior. His breath was gone from his lungs and the shock of the pain and the realization of what had happened coursed through the gang leader’s body and mind like a jolt of electricity.
Arturo took a step forward until he was looking directly down at the man on the floor, the man he had called a friend for decades. He leaned down and stripped Lobo’s sidearm from its holster. “Jefe, you have always had my loyalty. I have stood by your side for years because I could see what you’re capable of. You saved our people from getting infected, and you will always have my gratitude for that. You have kept us fed and supplied with whatever else we need.”
A look of profound sadness took control of the big man’s face as he squatted next to his former friend. “You’re smarter than anyone else I’ve ever met, but this…order? Do you really think I don’t know your true intentions?” He touched one knee to the floor of the Stryker so he could lean back over the little man’s face. “I’ve spent years at your side, pretending I was stupid so you wouldn’t be threatened. I would have gone on supporting you, but you have a…a sickness in you.”
Arturo stood and took off the military shirt that Lobo had dictated all of his people should wear and tossed it onto Lobo’s prostrate form; the white undershirt stretched tight against his stomach. There was still no movement from the downed man except for quick, shallow breathing.
“I’m out,” Arturo pronounced. “I’m heading back to the hangar where I will take my girls and my old lady and move on. If you send anyone to get in my way, I’ll kill them then I’ll come back here and kill you.”
With that, the now ex-Segundo for the Mojados street gang turned his back and strode down the ramp.
There was silence in the Stryker except for Lobo’s labored breathing.
Arlo considered drawing his pistol and putti
ng a bullet into Lobo’s chest. Only the thought that the gang banger’s people would turn against him stopped him. The Mojado’s leader had been right about one thing; he had to defeat the do-gooders at the top of the hill and he still needed the gangsters to accomplish that.
The ex-Lieutenant stood and bent over, extending a hand to the embarrassed and defeated man. Lobo slapped it away and flopped over on his hands and knees, then eventually got to his feet.
“I’m gonna kill that bitch.”
“Yeah, well, do it later, okay? We have this thing up and running now and the last thing we need is a civil war between you two. We have to stay focused here.”
Lobo’s back hurt, but he refused to check it for injuries in front of the other man. He picked up Arturo’s discarded shirt and wadded it under his arm. “I’m gonna see him wear this shirt one more time when I cut his throat.” The little man stalked out of the vehicle with as much dignity as he could summon.
✽✽✽
I watched as Buck and Isaac drove through the back gate in the two pickup trucks that had been formerly used by our enemies. As one passed my station, I saw a long streak of a drying, caking brown substance on the door. Isaac stopped the truck over by the big garage and quickly sprayed the door with the water hose located on the side.
The Major and Pops were both near my position discussing preparations for an eventual attack as I manned the M-240 for my six-hour watch. Buck saw them and crossed over to where we stood. Pops reached into a big rolling cooler and pulled out a cold, one-liter bottle of water and handed it to him. We waited while the big marine drained it in one swallow.
“How’d it go?”
Buck shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Well, Major, it went about as you’d expect. It was ugly and nasty, but we got it done. We used their trucks to round up the bodies and transport them back to the road. Then we laid them all out in a line on the side of Academy Avenue.” He looked over to me and grinned. “I knew you were malingering, boy.”
I raised my shirttail and showed him the compression bandage around my ribs. “Some of us got up close and personal with the enemy.”
He tried to tousle my head good-naturedly, but I dodged him. It was a game we played. “Your boy here went hand-to-hand with a man the size of Isaac over there,” he said to Pops. “He had to bite the guy’s nose off, but he won the fight. And that was after being blown up by a rocket.”
Pops frowned and looked closely at me as if trying to see if I had any additional injuries which I was hiding. The mention of the fight in the foxhole was like pouring a dash of salt into an emotional wound. I had been working hard to keep my mind on other things, but the image of the man and the look on his face as he realized his life was over was still haunting me.
Buck seemed to realize what I was experiencing, so he changed the subject. “Anyway, we recovered a rocket launcher and five rockets.” He pointed to where Isaac was rolling up the hose on the other side of the compound. “Isaac has it in his truck. I figured you could use it more than we could unless they decide to hit us in force from that side. The rockets are powerful, much more so than our grenade launchers.”
“Think they can take out that tank thing?” Pops finally stopped staring at me and had switched his gaze to Buck.
The marine shook his head. “Don’t think so. I only saw the one that hit by Virgil’s foxhole, and it was strong, but it won’t penetrate that Stryker’s skin if it has been up-armored.” He shrugged again. “You know the circumstances we’re faced with; the odds aren’t on our side. Frankly, we’re lucky they haven’t thrown that monster at us already.”
“Major!” The single word had been uttered by Pepper who was operating one of the helo drones. Mona was sitting beside her and controlling the other one. I was a little surprised that the Major had warmed to her enough to allow her to do so.
I watched the three men cross to her location and strained to hear what was happening, but they were too far away, so I beckoned to Isaac who was heading in my direction.
“There he is,” the big Ranger raised a hand in greeting. I replied in kind, and he flopped down on a bench next to me.
We talked for a while about how things were going up north, and he told me no one else had been injured in the attack, just Marcus and me. Lucky old me. I had just clued Isaac in on the location of a cooler in the warehouse level which was stocked with cold beer when our radios crackled.
“All people to your combat stations.”
Pops came trotting over to my position. “They’re going to do the same thing to us from the south this time. Looks like about twenty people again. The video feeds showed at least one more rocket launcher with them.”
He started to leave, headed for the mansion’s front door, but I reached out and caught him by his sleeve. “Where are you going?”
My father looked at me and shrugged. “I’m going to go out with another team like the one you were on and rig up an ambush. We have to hit them before they’re close enough to use those rockets against the stronghold.” He gave me a pained expression. “Right now I need to tell Sharon where I’m going, and she’s not going to be happy. Wish me luck.”
“You’re whipped Pops. Only been with her for a week and she’s already got you whipped.”
He grinned and gave me a playful punch on the shoulder. “Yep, and loving it. Be right back.” With that, he ran off and disappeared inside the house.
A few minutes later he and Sharon appeared, out of the side door this time, and she was holding onto him like she intended to physically prevent him from joining the other members of his team. Pops finally pried her fingers gently from his forearm and kissed her, first on the forehead, then on her lips. Tears spilled from her eyes, but she nodded in response to something he whispered to her and waved as he walked toward one of the liberated pickup trucks that Buck had acquired for us. There were four people already there, in various stages of arranging their gear.
Besides Jimmy and Pops, I saw Emma Morrison. She was the Major’s wife and had served fourteen years in the army before discarding her career in favor of raising her two precocious boys. She knew her way around a battlefield and had done tours of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq.
Along with Emma and the others, I saw the girl whom Marcus had referred to as Gina. She was about five feet, six inches tall and had both arms sleeved in tattoos. Her long black hair was usually flowing about her shoulders but now was twisted up and pinned to her head in a no-nonsense fashion. I didn’t know if she had any military experience, but she looked capable to me.
The last member of their team was another of Marcus’ ex-military people. Billy Washington was a tall, gangly black kid who had served a year in the Marines before the plague wiped out most of the people in his unit. He was only nineteen and was from Fresno originally, so he snuck out and headed home to find his mother and sister. Marcus had told me that much about him, but I never found out if he found his family.
Pops stowed his gear in the truck bed and came trotting over to me. He held up his fist for me, and we bumped. “Take care of everyone while I’m gone.” He gave me a playful nudge on the shoulder and started jogging back to the truck. Halfway there, he turned to look over his shoulder at me. “And take care of yourself too, son.”
I acknowledged with a two-fingered salute and watched as he piled into the bed and almost lost his footing when Jimmy gunned the engine and headed out of the south gate. I found my emotions catching up to me as I watched my father driving away toward danger and was surprised at how angry I was because this whole thing was crazy. Crazy and unnecessary. There were so few uninfected people even left alive now and here we were, killing each other. It made no sense. I turned my head to spit in the sand and almost hit Mona’s shoe with it.
“Hey, jerkwad! Watch what you’re doing there.”
I looked up, embarrassed, my reverie interrupted. “Oh, hey Pepper. Hey Mona.”
They both gave me a frown of disapproval then Mona shook her head.
/> “What is it with boys? Why do you guys have to spit all the time; it’s gross.”
I just shrugged. Pepper looked especially pretty today with her hair pulled back into two pigtails. Something in my adolescent mind had always rendered this particular hairstyle irresistible. I don’t know if she just happened to like the style or if Pops had let her in on my secret, but I noticed she had been wearing it a lot lately. Both girls were in jeans and Mona wore a red t-shirt while Pepper was in a button-down flannel with the bottom tied in a knot about three inches above her navel.
Pepper laid a hand gently on my shoulder. “Your Dad will be fine, Virgil. Try not to worry.”
I smiled my appreciation and was about to respond when Dwayne interrupted with a shout.
“Major? You should see this.”
✽✽✽
Arlo found Barrett and asked about the preparations he had made for the short siege they were staging at the area around the gate. The younger man was showing him the temporary fortifications when rifle fire began to sound from the western edges of the camp. They both ran in that direction, but Arlo’s injured legs caused him to slow to a limping jog. Barrett was already in the bed of a truck when the ex-Lieutenant arrived at the intersection of Herndon and Academy Avenues.
Twenty soldiers had been assigned to keep security at this intersection, and all were pouring lead downrange. They were mostly firing in full-auto mode, and Barrett was shouting at the top of his lungs for them to switch to single shot mode. The amount of ammunition wasted was considerable, and the young non-com was doing his job in trying to reign in their fear and excitement.
Arlo scrambled up into the truck bed and looked west. There were hundreds of Ragers coming their way. Most were running toward their positions at full speed with their tattered clothes streaming out behind them while others seemed only to be able to limp along slowly. Arlo grabbed the binoculars from around Barrett’s neck and studied them. They were still over two hundred yards away, but they were cutting that distance quickly. Even though Arlo knew the mindless people were not the zombies of movie and television creation, he was struck by their appearance and how much they now looked much like those creatures. All had been wearing the same clothing they wore since being infected, and the bulk of it was now so ragged and threadbare that some of them were barely covered at all. The lack of clean water and food had reduced their bodies to the point that they now resembled scarecrows.
Virgil's War- The Diseased World Page 39
