by N. C. Reed
“I’ll free the prisoners,” James said softly. Roland looked at him.
“I can do it,” James nodded in assurance. “If they only leave those six, I’ll have the advantage.”
“How do you figure one against six to your advantage?” Roland asked. He actually didn’t doubt the determined teenager, he just wanted to hear what James had in mind.
“They’ll probably leave one, or even two, outside,” James mused, his eye once more on the scope, watching the prisoners being herded into the barn. “I can take them with the suppressed rifle from cover. If they’re rotating the guards, then I’ll just wait for their relief, and do the same thing to them. That would only leave two. I can take two.”
James wasn’t bragging, and it wasn’t bravado. He was simply stating facts, and Roland knew he was right.
“Once you free them, what then?” Roland asked.
“I’ll take them into the wood-line, and start making our way back to the school,” James said at once. “We can keep hidden. If this bunch,” he waved at the assembling gang members, “still manages to attack the school after your surprise party, then I can help from the outside.” He turned to look at Roland, and smiled.
“Easy.”
Roland had to choke off a laugh at that.
“You got sand, kid,” he said after he was sure his laughing fit was under control. “Okay, this is what we’ll do, then.”
-
“We better get set,” Roland whispered. James nodded beside him. Their blind was gone now, used to cover whatever they weren’t taking with them. Each man had stripped down to just the equipment he would need to get the job done.
“Whatever happens, we meet back at the school, no later than tomorrow, right?” Roland was looking at James intently.
“Got it,” James nodded, grinning. “We can do it.”
“Well, reckon we better get ready,” Roland said. His job wasn’t going to be easy, either. He would ambush the ‘convoy’ with the mines, allowing himself to be seen after the smoke cleared, shooting at whoever was still moving. The plan was that the survivors might pursue him.
Not exactly the ideal situation, but then two against fifty or so never was.
James started off to the left, having already located a good place to slide down off their hill. Roland watched him go, sparing one more glance at the assembled gang below. They were mounting up.
Time to go.
-
James slid down the hill on his belly, low crawling around trees and tall bushes. Nothing gave away his position. Once on the floor of the valley he spared a glance through his rifle scope at the barn. No movement. He had been right; two men were posted outside on guard. Good.
He began to work his way into position. He would take these two down the minute Roland touched off the mines. He’d have to wait, then, and see if anyone came back or if the others inside the barn would come running out to see what had happened.
Funny, everything had seemed so simple when they were talking it out. Now it seemed almost impossible that this could work out. What the hell had he been thinking? Easy? Sure, for the Army.
Shaking the thought away, James settled into position, rifle at the ready. He didn’t have time for doubts now. He had work to do.
-
Roland was having similar thoughts as he hid in the sage above the roadway, waiting for the thugs he knew were coming.
The longer he had to think about their idea, the more he came to doubt it. Like James, Roland had thought it was a good plan when they were talking it over. Now, however... Now it seemed just one rung above suicide. He shook his head. Too late now. He could hear them coming.
They were committed.
-
The man James and Roland had dubbed ‘BD’ led them out. Six cycles in front, followed by the two vans, then the rest of the cycles. This was how they rode. All the men on cycles were armed, while the vans carried men without ‘rides’ and their heavier weapons.
They had been a small though ruthless gang before everything went to hell. Their numbers had increased of late as people realized that the ‘law’ was pretty much gone anymore. So far, they had run over anything that got in their way. BD didn’t intend for today to be any different.
There had been a lot of discussion over which target they would hit next. Many favored the small community next door, but others, mostly the men without old ladies, wanted to hit the school. There were several women there, and that’s what they wanted most of all at the moment.
In the end, the vote hadn’t really been close. The school was the next target. BD hadn’t heard from his old lady in several days, not since she’s gone inside to scope out the school. He was anxious to see her and so he didn’t have a problem with taking the school first. The old people weren’t going anywhere, and he was ready for some quality time with her.
He was still dreaming about the reunion when the explosions started.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Roland had a two-channel detonator. He had staggered the mines down the road over a fifty-yard spread, on both sides of the road. As the small convoy passed him he waited until the front cycles were past the far mine, and then triggered the string on the far side of the road from him.
The result was satisfactory to say the least. Three Claymores spewed a total of eighteen hundred ball bearings across the road way. It was a broad pattern, but very effective.
The rear cyclists on the far side of the road were shredded, the last mine on that side hitting them broadside. Two of the cycles caught the worst of the blast, and were literally lifted off the ground and slammed into other bikes next to them. Almost every bike went down, either from the blast, or from the blind panic the attack caused.
The vans were hit as well, the second one getting the worst of it, but the other taking a solid hit. As the sound from the explosion faded, Roland watched to see how long it would take them to try and reorganize.
Both van’s doors burst open, their stunned occupants exiting onto the roadway. Some were still clutching their weapon; others were just trying to get out of the damaged vehicles. The rear bikers were getting to their feet, at least the ones that weren’t killed or crippled in the blast.
Roland looked to where the lead cycles had stopped, and saw them dismounting, coming cautiously back to the rest of the little convoy. Glancing again at the mess on the roadway, Roland realized that many of the men in the vans, and even a large number of the rear bikers had escaped with minor injuries, or none at all.
He smiled grimly, and flipped a switch on the detonator.
Time to fix that.
-
BD was still trying to assess the situation when the second blast happened. Two of his men, further ahead than the rest of the vanguard, were shredded right in front of him, their blood and body parts coating him and the others.
But the men still with the vehicles...
Even as the sound of the second blast died away, the screams of his men reached his shattered hearing. His men, dead, dying, writhing in pain. Blood was everywhere, soaking into the dusty roadway. Body parts littered the area as well.
BD went from stunned, to shocked, to furious in less than a minute. Even as he started forward to help he saw a man rise up on the small ridge to his left, aim a rifle, and start shooting.
“Get that sumbitch!” he almost screamed. The men with him grabbed for their weapons and tried to do just that, but in another instant their attacker was gone, having walked his rifle’s thirty round magazine down the length of devastation. BD turned to the nearest man and grabbed him by his colors.
“Get back to the farm!” he shouted. “Bring everyone who’s left, and get the dogs! I want that bastard dead!”
The frightened man nodded, and almost tripped over his own feet trying to get on his way.
“I’ll kill you!” BD shouted with impotent rage. “You hear me! I’ll kill you!”
-
James had waited until he heard the first explosion
before shooting. There were two men outside, one near the door and another taking a walk around the barn. James took down the man standing at the door with one well-placed shot. The suppressed rifle made a soft crack as opposed to its normal loud report.
While a suppressor wouldn't make the rifle 'silent', it would muffle the sound and make it difficult to tell where the shot came from.
Exercising patience that was rare for one so young. James waited for the walking guard to return. Alerted because of the distant explosion, the target came running back to the front only to see his comrade on the ground.
The man lifted his rifle, looking around him. Too late.
James squeezed the trigger gently and the second guard’s head exploded in a mist. Two down.
James settled in to wait. He had intended to move closer after taking the second man, but hadn’t factored in the sound of the mines going off.
I didn’t plan this very well, he thought to himself. Too late now, though. Just gotta run with it.
Sure enough, the barn door opened and another man stepped outside followed by one of the women. He watched briefly through the scope as the two had an animated conversation. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could see they were both worked up. Not good.
James targeted the woman first, believing that the man would look for him before ducking inside. If he took the man first then the woman would be more likely to turn back into the barn, and safety.
Not wanting to take a chance, James aimed for the woman’s chest and touched off another shot. Bulls- eye. She looked stunned, or dazed maybe, as she slid to the ground. The man looked around wildly, just as James had hoped he would. Mistake.
Another shot and this man crumpled to the ground as well, his life’s blood leaking onto the valley floor.
Counting to ten, James waited. No one else came to the door. He could hear shouting inside the barn, but there was no way to make out what was being said. He didn’t hear any shots coming from there, so he hoped for the best. Cradling his rifle across both arms, James started crawling to his next position.
He had gone about ten feet when the second blast went off.
Sounds like Roland’s having a good time.
-
Roland was not, in fact, having a good time. He had counted on the mines taking out nearly all of the bikers at once. And several were taken out.
Just not nearly as many as he’d hoped.
There had been thirty men in total in the group. Seventeen of them were either killed or wounded to one degree or another by his ambush. That left more than enough to come after him as he high tailed it out of the area.
Eleven men hit the slopes coming after him. Roland had hoped for no more than six. Six were manageable. Eleven were a problem.
Too late for that now, he thought, running through the brush.
He had made time to create one booby trap before he had to get ready for the attack. Just one. His hope was that if one man got caught, then the others would slow down, fearful of more.
Right now that hope was pretty weak.
Nothing goes like it ought to, he thought as he ran through the scrub brush.
-
James was about to move toward the barn when a motorcycle came roaring up the drive causing him to freeze in place. This wasn’t part of the plan.
Like that’ll make it all better, he snorted to himself.
He watched as the man practically leaped off the bike, yelling at the top of his lungs. Men and women came running from all over the place, responding to his outcry.
Holy shit, where the hell did they all come from? James wondered. He counted at least eighteen people swarming around the yelling biker. He couldn’t hear what was said, it was just too far, but he could tell that the guy was pretty worked up.
Once he was finished, the rest jumped. Grabbing weapons, the entire bunch headed up the road in three pickup trucks, following the motorcycle. James had seen four dogs loaded into the truck. That was bad. Very, very bad. James watched them go, his heart beating a mile a minute.
I would have walked right into a hornet’s nest; he shook his head in wonder. Thank goodness Roland’s ambush drew them off. But they’ve got dogs. That’s going to make Roland’s escape a lot harder. Still easier for him than for me and those people in the barn. I gotta get clear of here, and quick.
Taking a deep breath, James counted to ten, and then repeated it. Satisfied that they were gone, he returned his attention to the barn. There was still one man and one woman on guard there.
Time to get things back on track.
-
Roland was glad he’d always kept in shape. If he hadn’t he'd be dead by now. For a bunch of biker trash that supposedly lay around drinking beer all day, these guys could run. He was keeping ahead of them, but he wasn’t gaining much.
And he’d get tired eventually.
He flinched involuntarily as a bullet clipped a nearby tree.
Damn, not only can they run, but they can run and shoot at the same time! he thought to himself. That ain’t fair!
That’s when he heard the first braying hound.
Are you kidding me?
If he got out of this, he was going to have to seriously reconsider how he and James made their plans.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Roland heard a scream from behind him, and smiled grimly as he ran. Someone had found his booby trap. It was a simple sapling spring trap, made and hidden in a hurry. Stakes tied to the sapling had probably hit someone’s leg. If he was lucky, at least one more of his pursuers might pause to help their injured comrade, but he didn’t count on it.
As if to re-enforce that thought, another bullet snapped a limb above him as he dove through the bush.
Oh, well, you can’t have everything, he thought philosophically. He continued to run, but was watching for a good place to lay an ambush. He might take one or two down and force the others to seek cover. If he did, then he’d try to slip away again.
And I gotta do something about them dogs, he reminded himself. He hated to shoot the dogs, but he really didn’t have much of a choice. Getting away from these idiots might not be too difficult, except for them.
Another bullet hit a tree to his left.
Okay, that’s about enough of this shit.
He turned, firing as he did so.
-
James lay beside the barn, watching the door. He knew there were still at least two targets inside, one man and one woman. He needed to get somewhere he could see inside. There. About half-way down the barn’s wall, there was a broken board, with the bottom third exposed. Not enough room to get inside, or to get out either, but still enough, maybe, for him to get a look inside.
He slow crawled, using his elbows and knees, toward the hole, still stopping every five seconds or so to just listen. He needed to hurry, but he needed to be cautious, too. He wouldn’t be able to do the prisoners any good if he was caught. Or shot.
Coming to a rest near the broken board, James paused to catch his breath. He could hear an occasional shot in the distance, but they were growing fainter. He could also still hear the dogs once in a while, but again fainter each time.
Roland was running for his life, buying James time to free these people. He had to get it done, and soon.
Levering his way to where he could see inside, he cautiously eased around, looking through the barn at each stop, slowly moving to where he could see the entire interior of the old building.
The prisoners were all gathered together in the center, on their knees. They were ragged, haggard, and had a look of hopelessness that James didn’t think he’d ever seen. His anger only grew as he noted that several of the women bore signs of being attacked. One woman he could see clearly was holding a tattered dress together in front with both hands, sobbing quietly.
“Shut it, bitch,” the male guard came into view, and slapped her face. The woman fell over, and the man kicked her for good measure. James could almost hear her rib breaking
.
Enough of this shit, he decided. He removed his pistol, suppressor already attached, and angled it through the hole. He waited until the man presented his back, then fired three times, stitching the rounds up his spine. He groaned and fell where he was.
The woman guard heard him fall and came running, lifting her gun as she did so.
“Who did that?” she screamed, sliding to a halt. James swore silently, realizing the woman had stopped in just the right spot. A beam kept him from getting a clean shot.
“I said who did that!” the woman screamed again, and lifted the pistol. When no one answered, she fired randomly into the group, striking a teenage girl in the chest.
“NO!” James yelled, horrified at what he’d seen. Before he could act, the woman fired again, and again, this time hitting a man sitting near the first victim, and then another woman, sitting near the front.
Hearing him yell, the woman turned in his direction, a look of malicious glee on her face.
The look disappeared when three rounds fired from James’ pistol struck her in the chest. When the woman turned, she had moved away from the beam's protection. Now she paid for it.
James was on his feet in a flash, running to the front door of the barn, only to find it bolted from the inside. He kicked it in frustration.
“Somebody open the door!” he yelled. “Hurry!” He could hear movement inside, but couldn’t see what was happening. He could hear muffled exclamations, and a few words of conversation. Finally, just as James was about to kick the door again, he heard the bolt slide. He opened the door to see one of the male prisoners pointing the woman’s pistol at him.
“I’m not your enemy, man,” James said calmly. “Case you missed it, I just shot that bitch that was shooting you. I’m trying to get you people outta here and somewhere safe.”
“Who are you?” the man demanded.
“Just a friendly neighbor,” James shrugged. “Now listen. We’re on borrowed time. My friend is leading that bunch through the woods away from here right now, being chased by no telling how many, and a bunch of dogs. He’s buying this time. We have to go, and go now.”
