All of that was heartening, but the real sight to see was the Stryker. It had been flipped over by the explosion and rolled down the hill it tried to climb. It now rested on its side with the body of an enemy soldier hanging limply from its turret.
It dawned slowly on me.
It was over!
We had won. No, not won because nobody wins this type of thing. We had merely prevailed and overcome an attack by a dangerous enemy. I still didn’t know how many of us had survived.
I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see dozens of my friends walking cautiously into the walled compound. I searched for Pops but didn’t see him. That reminded me that there were people I needed to find.
I turned to walk back toward the garage. The others were watching me curiously. As I passed the first group, I smiled at them.
“I think it’s over,” I said.
Chapter 31
Barrett saw the Stryker flip over when the explosives detonated underneath its wheels just as it was rising up to get over the ridge. The force was enough to push it over onto its back and send it rolling down the hill. It made six revolutions before settling on its side. Both of the big machine guns were bent beyond repair, and the only thing Barrett had been able to do was to get Arlo and the soldier he knew as Bates out of the ruined hulk. Both had been thrown around by the actions of the tumbling tank. Bates had a broken arm, and Arlo had a mangled leg and what appeared to be several fractured ribs. Two of the other soldiers were dead. Lobo had seen Arlo grabbing onto the netting just before the crash and realized what was about to happen. He had already belted himself in, so he just clutched one of the metal uprights with both arms and hung on as the vehicle started its lethal tumbling. He had a gash on his forehead that ran down through his brow but seemed otherwise unharmed.
The sergeant gathered people to carry their wounded down the hill. He stayed behind them crouching down just behind the same hill that the Stryker had been flipped on. He studied the castle and its broken towers.
Barrett had ordered a full retreat. Could they have pressed the attack after the Stryker had been destroyed? Probably. Would it have been worth the lost lives and broken bodies? Absolutely not.
Better to let the good guys win this one.
✽✽✽
“We need to get everyone back together and press the attack now.” Arlo was wincing in pain as Dolores treated his injuries. The leg looked bad. Real bad. Dolores had gotten the bleeding stopped but the lower part of the appendage now hung in an unnatural angle. She was presently engaged in wrapping his torso in elastic bandages.
They had moved the former lieutenant south on Academy Avenue until they reached the small collection of storage sheds that had long ago been set out for sale. Dolores had converted the largest one into a makeshift infirmary. The other structures were full of wounded, some of them hurt more seriously than Arlo.
Barrett leaned calmly against the wall as the leader of the marauders ranted.
Arlo pointed at him with an accusing finger. “Damn it, man, don’t just stand there like a lump. They’re hurting now; we can go back up there and walk right into the place. We still have the numbers to beat them. Let’s end this!”
Barrett looked at the man he had followed for so long. The man who had perverted the mission of his soldiers and led them into outlawry. At one time he had admired Arlo. Now he held nothing but contempt for the man. Barrett wondered why he had allowed this one person to send so many of his friends to their deaths.
The sergeant pushed off the wall to stand straight and stared directly into Arlo’s eyes. “That’s not going to happen, Arlo. It’s over. Everything. No more rapes, no more killings, no more tearing apart families to satisfy the lust of our people.” He pointed a finger back at the lieutenant. “And no more of you sacrificing the lives of our people for your ego. You’re done, Arlo. I’ve spoken to the troops. We’re moving on, most of us. There are a few who will still follow you, maybe twenty or so, but the main body are behind me now, and we’re going back to our original mission. From now on we will defend the people of the United States of America from all enemies, foreign and domestic. Just like the oath we took says. That means you and your people too if we find out you’re operating like before.”
Arlo’s face reflected the hate he felt for the man. His hand grabbed for his holster but closed on empty air. The holster belt with its big magnum revolver had been removed from his waist by Dolores when she started to treat his ribs. It was now lying on the floor in a corner.
Barrett slowly shook his head, then turned and left the shed as his former commander sputtered and fumed, shouting threats to his back.
Inside the shed, Arlo continued to threaten the sergeant. He turned to Dolores. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to have him kneel at my feet and kiss my boots. Then I’ll put a bullet in his head.”
Dolores was behind him. She put a hand on either side of his head and kissed him gently on top of his head. “Can’t you just let it go? We lost, Arlo. Let’s just go somewhere else and start over.” Her voice lowered to a whisper as she spoke into his ear. “I’ll be there with you. We can do this together.”
He spun angrily at hearing her words. “Together? You repulsive slut, do you really think I’d have you? Look at you.” He stabbed a finger at her. “You’re so old and ugly no decent man could stand the sight of you. Get out. Get out now and never come back. Go be with those other traitors who are following that traitorous bastard now.”
“Please say you don’t mean that, Arlo. I have always been here for you. I always will be here for you. I love you.”
Arlo pointed at the belt and holster lying in a heap on the floor. “Make yourself useful before you go, bitch. Hand me my revolver then take your ugly ass out of my sight. I never want to have to look at your face again.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as Dolores bent over to retrieve the big silver gun from its holster. “Do you really mean that, Arlo?”
“Hell yes, I mean it. You’re so damned hideous I could barely stand to have you in my camp. You disgust me.”
The tears in Dolores’ eyes overflowed and ran down her cheeks as she lifted the gun. “Okay then.”
The sounds of the gunshots brought the soldiers running to find the two bodies inside the shed.
✽✽✽
“What the hell is going on?”
Lobo was in his Humvee which he had parked in the long driveway leading up to the hangar. There was a large bandage wrapped around his head, and blood had seeped through it, leaving a small stain. The Jefe wanted to finish the assault on the Hilltop people but he needed a few days of rest first. Everyone was tired, exhausted from the events of the preceding days.
His people would need more ammunition after they recovered and renewed their attempts to capture the Hilltop compound. They had used up most of the stuff they’d taken with them to the battle, but Lobo had not revealed to their allies that there was a ton more of the ammunition stored back inside the National Guard post.
There were only eighteen of the original gang left now, the others having died in the disastrous assault on the compound. When they pulled up to the fence line of their former home, they found the gates chained shut, and Lobo sent two of his people to find out why.
The two gang bangers walked back up to the Humvee and opened the door on Lobo’s side.
One of them shrugged before talking. “There are a bunch of people inside, and they say the hangar belongs to them now, Jefe. They have some of our men sitting on the tarmac in flex-cuffs, and they say the women and kids are confined to their rooms under guard.” He finished the report with another shrug.
“What?” The events of this day had put the gang leader into a terrible state of mind. The only thing he was wanting right now was to go to his quarters and lay down on his big, comfortable bed for a few hours. He was infuriated that his wishes were being denied. The demon inside him started clawing its way through the carefully constructed mental walls that Lobo ha
d put up. In his fatigued state, the little man didn’t have the strength to hold him back.
Lobo threw the door open and bailed out of the big military vehicle. He stepped up to the man who had given him the report and slapped him hard across the face.
“And you just bowed your head and crawled back here to me? You don’t know how to deal with these people after all this time?” Lobo snatched his M-4 from the front seat of the Humvee and started stalking toward the front gate.
“Boss, I wouldn’t…” the man started to caution him.
“Shut up! And keep your pansy ass back there with the others. I’ll show you how to deal with sheep.”
When he was ten yards from the gate he saw the big chain that had been wrapped around it as well as a formidable looking padlock. Four men were standing behind one of the concrete barricades that protected the entrance to the base. All of them had rifles. Of to each side, Lobo saw more people, similarly armed.
“That’s far enough, partner.” The voice came from a tall, slender man.
Lobo fought the demon long enough to try to win the situation through pure determination. “Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?” he shouted.
The tall man smirked. “Your house? Little fella, this facility belongs to the U.S. government. You and your bunch of bottom feeders have been misusing it. We’re taking it back. Go find somewhere else to roost.”
The demon pushed out a little further, filling Lobo’s head with rage. The reference to his size, as always, was a trigger. Acid flooded into his stomach, and his head began pounding. “Somewhere else? This is our home, and we own everything inside it.”
The tall man took a moment to spit then looked at him evenly. “You mean the ammunition and the other weapons? Well, we own that now. Matter of fact, we have a lot of those very things now pointed in your direction. If you try to come any closer, you’ll see.”
Lobo fought for control over the demon. It was telling him to raise his rifle and shoot the grinning tall man, put a bullet into that smirking face and then rush forward to stomp his head into paste. The sight of the rifles on the fence was holding him back, allowing him to control the malevolent force within him.
“I’ll tell you this one last time, bitch. This place belongs to the Mojados. We own this whole town, and we own you. Now you open these gates, or I’ll come and open them for you.”
The tall man was purposefully obvious in his actions as he snicked his rifle from ‘safe’ to ‘semi.’ “You do what you feel comfortable doing, Mr. Frodo.”
That was all it took; the demon now burst free with nothing to restrain him. He focused his eyes on the man who was insulting him and occupying his home. With a primal scream, Lobo raced forward, his rifle coming up to his shoulder and his finger searching for the trigger.
The tall man’s bullet struck Lobo over the right eye, puncturing the bandage that was already there. The little man’s forward momentum carried him a few feet closer to the gate before he crumbled and fell lifeless on the concrete driveway.
The tall man behind the barricade spat again, and the rifles which were arrayed all around him raised up, ready to do battle.
No one in the collection of gangsters knew quite what to do, their nature told them to fight, but there didn’t seem to be much of a point to it since the occupiers were all behind concrete and the Mojado’s ammunition supplies were low. Some of the gang members had families inside the hangar complex, and they feared what might happen to them if they tried to fight it out.
The air was thick with tension as both sides waited to see what would happen. All it would take was one nervous twitch of a trigger finger, on either side, and there would be a firefight, one that the battle-weary Mojados could not win.
The sound of a car engine snatched everyone’s attention, and they all watched as a white Toyota Sequoia drove up to the collection of Humvees and pickups outside the gate. Besides the driver, the heads of a woman and two little girls were visible in the vehicle. The engine switched off and the door opened as a large man with a prominent belly emerged and started walking over to the gate.
Arturo stopped at the body of his former chief. The hole in his forehead indicated the lack of any hope that he had survived the shot. The big man put his hands on his hips and sighed, then turned to the people at the gate.
“Who’s in charge here?”
The tall man stood up from behind his barrier. “I guess I am. Name’s Snow.”
Arturo nodded. “I’m Arturo. I guess I’m the Jefe of this bunch now.” He turned to the surviving members of his former gang and raised his hands, palms up. “Is that right? Am I in charge now?”
There was a slight delay in response until a young woman stepped out from behind one of the two Humvees and nodded. “Yes…you’re Jefe now, Turo.”
Soon there were sounds and gestures of agreement among the gathered group. The new Jefe turned back to face Snow again.
“So how do we handle this Mr. Snow?” He turned his body sideways and pointed to indicate the rest of the surviving Mojados. “We don’t have the numbers to threaten anyone anymore. With me as the new Jefe, I will be directing these here people to change their ways. No more gang banging, no more hurting other people.” He sighed deeply. “This is a different world, and we all need to pull together if we’re going to turn it back into something good. That’s my promise to you. Let our people go, and we’ll become your allies instead of your enemies.” He turned again to look out toward the city. “There’s a lot of work to be done now. There are bodies of dead Ragers strewn all around the city. They will have to be disposed of before they become yet another threat to our health. I’m willing to have our people pitch in and help with that and all the other things we need to do to make this town livable again.”
Snow’s expression showed that he was considering the big man’s words. He leaned over and spat again. When he straightened himself up, he nodded at the gang’s new leader. “Okay. I’ll buy that. But your people have to leave their weapons on the ground right here in front of the gate. You can take the pickups but leave the Humvees and anything else that was designed for war. You can each have a handgun for the Ragers that are still out there, but most of ‘em are already dead. That’s all. That’s the deal, Mr. Arturo. Take it or leave it. Otherwise, your people are all out in the open and mine are all behind cover. Try to leave without complying, and we’ll kill every one of you.” He spat again.
The woman who first spoke out about her acceptance of Arturo as the new Jefe walked up to him. “Boss?”
He put a delaying hand on her shoulder and turned back to the gate. “What about our families and others inside?”
“As soon as you comply, we’ll let them out. They’re all unharmed. We never wanted to hurt anyone, Mr. Arturo. We still don’t.”
Arturo looked at the young woman and shrugged. He reached forward to slip the sling of her M-4 off of her shoulder. He held the weapon up by the sling only, then turned and walked toward the gate. Stopping about five feet in front of it, he laid the rifle on the concrete. Without saying a word, he turned and stepped back to where Lobo’s body still lay and bent down to pick him up. He held the small body in his arms like a man carrying a child and looked back at the people in the driveway. His people.
“Stack ‘em up by the gate, one at a time. Make it quick; we got to find a new place for our people.”
A few minutes later, the families of the gang and other prisoners were led to the gate. The remnants of the Mojados gang then all piled into the trucks and rumbled away in the direction of Clovis Avenue with Lobo’s body rolled into a blue tarp, riding in the bed of a pickup truck.
✽✽✽
“People at the gate.” The voice belonging to Myrna Corazon came over the walkie. It was the day after the final fight against our combined enemies, and no one would have blamed her for taking a few days to mourn the loss of her husband. Instead, she told us she would prefer doing something useful, so she resumed her role as our
primary monitor from the radio and video room.
The Major, standing in the damaged courtyard, acknowledged the transmission. “How many?”
“Looks like just one. He has a white flag.”
The Major looked at Pops who was standing next to him, balancing himself on a set of crutches. There was a plaster cast on his lower left leg and a number of elastic bandages stuck to his face and neck.
“Shall we?” he asked Pops.
“We shall.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “You want to ride shotgun, Virg?”
I nodded. I didn’t know what was going on; we could either be facing a new round of attacks or we could maybe see peace from here on out. I wasn’t sure which one it was going to be but, if they had a trap in mind, I was damned sure going to be there to protect Pops.
Pepper yelled over to us from the drone table. “I don’t see anyone else anywhere near the gate, Major. I’ll keep a look out; you keep your walkie close.”
“Roger that.” We all started across the compound to one of the waiting pickups. Along the way, we passed the crews as they struggled to clean up the wreckage. There were so few of us left now, barely twenty of us. The more significant chunks that had fallen from the destroyed towers had already been dragged outside of the walls by one of our tractors, and our people were now mostly scraping gravel and dust from the driveway with shovels and tossing it into the back of our lone dump truck.
We passed by numerous people who were in various stages of recovery from wounds received in the battle. Most of them nodded respectfully as Pops and the Major passed. Inside the blue Chevy pickup, I wedged my M-4 between the seat and the console before starting it up and rolling toward the unprotected gate opening. The tractor had pulled the remnants of it free, and some of our people were already pounding and bending it back into shape with sledgehammers. It would have some holes in it, but it would once again serve to protect us eventually.
Virgil's War- The Diseased World Page 50
