Virgil's War- The Diseased World

by Larry Robbins

  Arlo knew he really should have had the Stryker lead the attack. With its armor and twin fifty caliber guns, there was probably nothing the Hilltop people could do to stop them. The key word there was probably. The people at the top of the hill had proven themselves to be surprisingly effective in their attacks and their defenses. The former army man feared they might have something up their sleeve that they could use to defeat the tank. By throwing the rest of his army against the castle first, he was baiting them to use everything in their arsenal against the ground troops. Once that was done, the Stryker would roll through the gate in relative safety.

  Would he lose people? Sure. Would Arlo, himself, be one of those lost? Nope.

  “Coming up to a piece of flat land ahead,” Banner shouted. “Be ready to pound that tower.”

  Arlo grabbed the charging handle on the Ma Deuce and pulled it back, letting it slam forward when he released it. He made a mental note to restore military discipline after this was over. He was getting increasingly angry over not being addressed as ‘Sir’ by his people.

  The rolling and jerking motions of the tank diminished as they reached flatter ground and slowed down. Bates swung the nose of the vehicle around, so they were now pointed directly at the stronghold. From his vantage point, Arlo could see only high walls banked with dirt and two towers sticking out behind, one of which was partially destroyed and belching black smoke. There was only one more hill left to cross between the castle and the Stryker.

  The Stryker stopped. Below him, Arlo heard Bates’ voice coming from the intercom speaker.

  “You’re all set, guys. Rock and roll.”

  The leader of the disgraced army unit lined up his sights on the undamaged tower. He grinned as he pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 30

  I was still sitting with my back against the wall with Mona and Pepper when the call came over the walkie to take cover. Almost immediately afterward the tower on the south side started to disintegrate. Fifty caliber slugs slammed into the structure, causing it to crumble into pieces which fell into the courtyard below. People who had been stationed underneath it were now scrambling away, looking for safety.

  “Let’s go,” I yelled.

  We all leapt to our feet, and I climbed back onto the box I’d been using to let me see over the wall. What I saw sent a shiver into my belly. The Stryker was now only the length of three football fields away and stationary. Its guns were blasting away, and the rifles of the enemy infantry were joining in again, adding their lethal contribution to our eventual destruction. The tank was crouching behind the last rise in the landscape, its roof and two machineguns sticking up over the top.

  While I swiveled my weapon to aim it, I saw one of Marcus’ men fire a string of bullets from his M-240 at the tank. Sparks on the roof of the vehicle told me he was scoring hits. A second later, one of the big guns shifted its aim. Fifty caliber bullets chewed away soil, rocks and about two feet of our protective wall before cutting our gunner in half.

  With both towers destroyed, the big-wheeled tank was now concentrating on taking out our people who were defending the walls. The twin fifties were targeting the top edges of the wall where our defenders were shooting at the enemy ground troops, keeping them from advancing on our position. The big rounds from the machine guns were powerful enough to take out enough dirt and concrete to reach the people behind. I watched awestruck as three people to my left had their bodies dismembered.

  Enraged at the sight, I put my fancy sights on the gunner located at the center of the tank. He was sitting tall in his perch, seemingly unafraid of being shot. I lined up my crosshairs and fired off a whole belt at him. My bullets caught him in the chest, and he jerked and spasmed before falling out of sight, but I had no time to celebrate as a moment later a string of bullets disintegrated the wall just a few inches to my right.

  I felt a tug on my leg and looked down to see Pepper pulling at it. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, so I swiped off my hearing protectors.

  “The Major just called for a fallback. He said to get everyone away from the wall; it’s not defensible anymore.”

  I longed to stay in the fight, but I knew it was hopeless at this point. I snatched up the M-240 and tripod and draped two ammo belts around my shoulders. Mona and Pepper each grabbed more ammunition and we joined the crowd of frightened defenders who were abandoning the wall and scattering throughout the compound, seeking cover. I saw the open bays of the big garage and ran for it. Several people were already in there, including Pops and Marcus. There was an ancient Ford pickup inside that Pops had intended to restore. The truck was made of heavy-gauge steel which should offer some protection, so I dropped the tailgate and used it to set up the tripod and weapon. There was an oil-change pit in the bay next to us, and Jimmy and Jaime were already set up in it with their fifty cal Ma Deuce. At least we would surprise their ground troops with our firepower when they came over the walls.

  At this point, we all knew we were going to die; there was just no use denying it. We had lost our towers along with one of our big guns and had been forced to abandon the defensive wall. Between the impenetrable armor of the tank and the overwhelming numbers of the enemy infantry, we were hopelessly outmatched. The only thing we could do now was to take out some of our attackers with us.

  I heard a gasoline engine sound over my head and was surprised to see the big fixed wing drone fly past the garage at a height of about eight feet. A second later, Dwayne, Gayle and the Major went rushing by us, heading in the direction that the drone had gone. Dwayne was cradling his laptop against his chest, and the Major had a small black case in one hand, a semi-auto pistol in the other. Gayle was carrying two of her cheapie radios, and her expression showed her to be terrified. I yelled out to them as they passed, asking if they needed help, but neither one heard me. A second later they were out of sight.

  I wondered what they were up to, but I didn’t wonder long. The garage faced west and offered us a direct view of the ruined front gate. I detected movement. An enemy soldier was peeking his head around the twisted metal uprights upon which the steel gate had been attached.

  More movement was noticeable along the wall as enemy troops started climbing over, now that we were no longer defending it. I forced myself not to fire on them yet. Neither did Jimmy and Jaime. Like me, they were waiting for a large enough group to gather so we could inflict maximum damage upon them.

  The twin fifties of the Stryker had gone silent now, allowing their infantry to swarm the walls, but the diesel engines were revving. The sounds told me the tank was beginning its climb of the last hill between them and the castle. I yearned to grab Pepper and hold her close, tell her how much she meant to me, but I wasn’t going to leave my weapon. I caught her eye. Her little smile told me she already knew what I was thinking and felt the same way.

  A knot of enemy fighters was now clustered together at the northwest corner of the wall. They were spraying bullets all around the compound as they tentatively started making their way forward. Hitting no resistance, they grew bolder, abandoning their cover and striding confidently through the compound.

  Their arrogance filled me with white-hot anger. I lined them up in my sights and pressed the trigger.

  ✽✽✽

  “Banner’s down,” someone yelled.

  Arlo ducked his head back down into the interior of the Stryker. He saw the gunner’s body in pieces on the metal deck of the tank. The man’s head was mostly gone. He looked over at the other soldiers. “Don’t just stand there. Get his body out of the way, and someone take his place. We need that gun operational. Move people!”

  His orders got the soldiers into action. They dragged away the pieces of the man who had been their friend and to whom they had been talking just twenty minutes previously. His dismembered corpse was laid to the side and covered by a green plastic tarp. A tall Hispanic man nervously took his place in the gun port.

  Arlo saw the looks he was getting from the other soldiers in the
Stryker. He wasn’t winning any hearts among them. Many of them still thought this assault on the Hilltop people was unnecessary. Well, he’d deal with that later. After he won this battle, they would see that he was right.

  Bates’ voice squawked over the intercom. “The shooting from the walls has stopped. I think they’ve given up.”

  Arlo popped back up and took a look. It was true. After strafing the tops of the walls with their bullets, the return fire had stopped.

  Arlo smiled. He’d won. The defenders had abandoned the wall. He imagined them kneeling before him with their hands behind their heads as he entered the compound like a conqueror. Hell, he was a conqueror. And now all of his people would see that he was. The defeated Hilltop people would soon be begging for their lives. Arlo grinned as he imagined himself calmly telling their leaders what he was going to do to their women and children and then personally executing them. Once the people in command were taken care of, he would shoot every male over the age of sixteen.

  Then it would all be over. The last obstacle to Arlo continuing the way of life that he had come to enjoy and need.

  He watched the infantry swarming over the dirt-covered walls, knowing this was the last phase of the battle. Where was Barrett? The ex-officer wondered if he’d been killed already. That would be ideal. He’d gather the troops, say something sentimental yet entirely unfelt, and that would be that. He wouldn’t even have to get his own hands dirty. Problem solved.

  As he ruminated, a small airplane zoomed over his head and vanished behind the compound walls.

  “What the hell?” he wondered. A second later it dawned on him. It was a drone, a slightly smaller version of the ones used by the military before the fall of civilization. That was how these people had been able to counter so many of his plans; they had been watching them through the flying devices. Arlo almost face-palmed himself as he realized he should have thought of using that tactic. Well…no worries. It would all be over soon.

  ✽✽✽

  One of the things the Major and Buck taught me was that infantry should never cluster together. Their numbers needed to be spread out because groups offered easier targets for enemy fire.

  The people on the other side of my sights were mostly ex-army soldiers with a smaller mix of untrained gang members. The soldiers must have forgotten their training because there were several knots of bodies moving around together inside the wall.

  I looked over the groups until I saw one that included a man who was carrying a rocket launcher. I sent a stream of .308s their way, taking out the rocket man before hosing down the other five or six.

  My assault seemed to shock the invaders because they froze for a micro-second. Unfortunately for them, that was all the time Jimmy needed to turn the awesome power of the fifty cal on another cluster.

  I actually heard some of the surviving enemy screaming in terror as they rushed back to the walls they had just climbed over. Most of the ones who ran were cut down, either by Pepper and me or Jimmy and Jaime. About a third of them made it back over the wall to the other side.

  Some twenty five or more infiltrators saw the futility of running and, instead, hunkered down behind cover. They then began trading turns taking pot shots at the garage.

  I could hear our people shooting back from different places and wondered how many of them had survived so far. I turned to see Pops crouching behind a metal workbench. He was cradling his M1A in both hands, the barrel pointed at our defensive wall, searching for targets. Alas, the enemy soldiers inside the compound were dug in deep. They knew they didn’t need to take chances; they only had to wait until the big wheeled tank came busting through what remained of the steel gate. Some of them still risked sticking their heads up every now and again to snipe at us.

  I watched as one of the attackers popped up over the top of a wheeled metal dumpster and fired off a string of shots before ducking back down behind it. I found a loose bolt and tossed it over to the oil change pit. Jaime saw it sail past him and looked my way. I pointed to the dumpster. He took a long look then grinned. He looked back to me and nodded then tapped Jimmy’s shoulder and spoke into his ear. Jimmy also nodded then aimed the dumpster.

  Trained soldiers all know the difference between cover and concealment. Cover is something that protects you from enemy fire. Concealment simply hides you from view. Normally, the metal walls of a large dumpster would be adequate for protecting someone from most forms of rifle fire. It does little, however, to guard against the horrific lethality and power of a fifty caliber military round. The man behind that particular dumpster had mistaken the object for cover when, in fact, to a Ma Deuce, it provided only concealment.

  Jimmy let loose with a short string and the dumpster came apart like a piñata. The man behind it did too. His mangled body took on a shape that was not at all in keeping with the form of a normal human before it hit the wall behind it. The moisture of the corpse kept it stuck to the wall for a second or two. Then, like a wad of mucous that had been spat onto a curb, it slowly slid downward and settled on the asphalt.

  Pepper leaned in close to talk into my ear. “What are they doing? They’ve stopped attacking.”

  I kept my eyes on the compound as I answered. “I think they’re waiting for the tank.”

  My girlfriend, the only one I had ever had and likely to be the last one, said nothing. I felt her hand on my arm and then her lips on my cheek. She could read the situation as well as anyone out here.

  ✽✽✽

  “I need more tape!”

  The Major was working quickly, knowing that this gambit would likely be his last. If it didn’t work, there would be no other maneuvers available to them. That angered him because he really didn’t think it would work anyway. But, when fortune offers just one path, the only thing one could do was to take it. So it was that he found himself being handed a fresh role of duct tape by Gayle. He almost panicked when he couldn’t find the seam which signaled the open end of the tape, but he finally saw it and scratched at it frantically with his fingernails. The tape screeched as it came off the roll and the Major wrapped another strip around each of the three bars of C-4. Two of the cans were attached to the fuselage on opposite sides of the wings. The third was taped to the spine of the drone, near the tail. It was the last of their plastic explosives. Directly in the middle of the fuselage was taped one of the cheap walkie talkies. It had been painted blue. There was a matching blue walkie clipped onto Gayle’s belt.

  The Major didn’t know if it would be enough. He didn’t even know if the drone would be able to take off with the extra weight, though Dwayne had assured them it could and he was the closest thing they had to an expert in the field.

  Gayle was crouched down beside The Major, stringing wires between the containers and taking readings with a hand-held instrument. The former Army officer had no idea what the device was measuring, but he trusted Gayle’s expertice. He continued to place strips of tape in various places until he was confident that, at the very least, the cans wouldn’t come free.

  At the head of the drone, Dwayne was busy replacing the old battery with one that was freshly charged. The Major heard a snap and looked to see the cover of the drone’s battery compartment now in place. At the same time, Gayle turned to him.

  “We’re good,” she yelled while holding up a thumb.

  Major Robert Morrison, U.S. Army (Retired), stood up, feeling the pops in his knees. This was it; their last chance at escaping defeat and probable annihilation. He looked back toward the compound, hoping to catch a glimpse of Emma, but she was nowhere to be seen. Normally a solemn and serious man, he surrendered to impulse and kissed Gayle on the forehead, then placed both hands on Dwayne’s shoulders.

  “Do your best, son.”

  The youngster nodded. His expression was grim as he dragged the tail of the big drone around until the nose pointed north. The propeller on the device whirred loudly as the boy used the control station to increase its speed. The Major and Gayle both unconsciously he
ld their breaths as the drone slowly started rolling forward.

  ✽✽✽

  “Command, this is Barrett.”

  Arlo stifled his disappointment over his second-in-command still being alive and picked up the handset for the radio. “Go for command.”

  “Our people inside the walls are pinned down by machinegun fire. We need that Stryker up here now!” The frustration was evident in the young sergeant’s voice.

  “Yeah, okay. We’re heading up there now. Make sure your people cover us. And get those rocket crews busy, I haven’t heard any rocket strikes for ten minutes or more.” Arlo waited for a response, but none came, so he switched the handset from radio to intercom and addressed the driver and the other soldiers in the big vehicle. “Okay, Bates start moving us up there. Go slow and if we start taking any kind of artillery fire then back us out of there fast. The rest of you, be on your toes. Once we get to the gate, we’ll drop the ramp, and you’ll leave the Stryker to take up stations on either side of us. Your job is to protect us from any kind of rocket launcher or anything else those people might have.”

  Arlo hung up the handset then checked the other gunner. He wanted to make sure that he was cocked, locked and ready to rock and roll. For the hundredth time today, Arlo was questioning his decision to put himself in harm’s way. He felt as if he had no other options, what with Barrett being subordinate and getting so chummy with the other soldiers. Arlo knew it was crucial for him to be seen participating in the combat efforts because his position as the leader of his band of marauders was in real jeopardy. The collective attitude of the soldiers was clear, and their growing resentment of Arlo was obvious.

  Being in the Stryker would allow him to be seen taking part in the fighting while remaining as safe as possible with the thick armor of the attack vehicle protecting him. He shot a glance at the tarp-covered lump lying against the side of the tank and shivered. Banner had been taken apart by machinegun fire, and it was just dumb luck that the bullets had struck the subordinate soldier instead of him.