Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival

by Joe Nobody

  As soon as Bishop sat down, everyone else started talking all at once. He sat next to Terri, and they held hands as he wondered how long she would be able to tolerate how badly he smelled. As if she could read his mind, she reached over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Most of the remaining speakers agreed with Bishop’s ideas, and a few had other thoughts to offer as well.

  It was not long before it was completely dark, and the residents of the neighborhood were in their homes, revisiting the events of the day. Bishop told Terri he wanted to take a walk and check the neighborhood’s roadblock.

  As he approached the two cars blocking the entrance, he noticed something was not right. As he got closer, he smelled gasoline. Fuck, he thought, and pulled his night vision off of his vest.

  Bishop had been a strong believer in Night Vision Devices, or NVD’s, since he had first used them in the Army years ago. The security personnel at HBR were all issued their own monocles or goggles. Bishop had selected a monocle that he could either hold to his eye like a spyglass or mount on his rifle to be used with the regular optics.

  He turned on the NVD and held it up to his eye. The darkness suddenly turned into a green, alien landscape. He could see everything very clearly, and while Terri’s car appeared exactly as he had left it, the other vehicle had a growing dark spot under its gas tank. Someone had recently spiked the tank and taken the gas.

  Bishop mounted the little night vision scope on his rifle and raised it up to a ready position. He slowly moved around the cars, prepared for trouble. Being alone, his progress was very deliberate and methodical, as he scanned in circles so that no one could sneak up behind him. He worked his way around the cars and out onto the street. As he looked down Cypress both ways, movement caught his eye. He saw three men, all with rifles slung over their shoulders. They were carrying jugs and cans.

  The optic on the rifle gave him a pretty clear indication of their distance. They were just over 600 meters, or about seven football fields away. While he knew he could scare the hell out of them, the chances of hitting them at this distance were very low. He considered chasing after them for a second, but decided that was unwise. He wasn’t so worried about the three to one odds. He was more concerned about what else he might run into on the way there or the way back. Bishop decided he would send them a message and brought the rifle up to his shoulder. He elevated the crosshairs to about 60 inches above their heads to compensate for the bullet drop and was slowly squeezing the trigger when he heard a car engine behind him. He lowered the rifle and scrambled to some bushes at the side of the road.

  He saw a light coming down Cypress, but it didn’t appear to be headlights. The light would come on for a few seconds and then go off for a bit. Whatever it was, it was moving very slowly. Bishop brought the rifle up so he could look through the NVD. It did not take long before he could make out a pickup truck, and in the bed of the truck were several men. He could also see rifle barrels. The driver was not using his headlights for some reason. The men in the back had flashlights, and it looked like they were searching the sides of the road at the same time as trying to provide the driver enough light to steer the truck.

  As it got closer, Bishop could see why they did not use the truck’s headlights – they had been shot out. Through the night vision, he could see that the windshield and hood were full of bullet holes as well. These boys have been busy he thought. He backed further into the underbrush next to the road and went prone. He did not like this situation at all. There were at least six of them, and he had hardly any cover that would stop bullets. Besides the bad odds, Bishop did not want an encounter with these guys as they had already been in a fight or two and were not likely to run. He had decided to let them pass and hope they did not see him, when he heard one of them shout, “Hey! Look at that! Look at the pretty thing over there.”

  Terri had gone looking for Bishop when he didn’t come back right away. She smelled the gasoline and heard a car engine and decided to see what was going on. She had just gone around the cars when a flashlight beam hit her directly in the eyes and caused her to look away.

  The truck sped up and came right at Terri. She started to take a step back and run, but realized she wasn’t going to make it and froze. The pickup braked and stopped about 20 feet from her, and she could see the outline of several men hopping over the sides of the bed. She reached toward her back pocket and remembered she did not have her pistol. Oh hell, she thought, Bishop is going to be so pissed.

  Bishop had a clear mental picture of what was happening before the truck ever stopped. He got up and moved out of the bushes as fast as he could. He was moving toward the truck as the men came pouring out of the bed. Bishop’s stomach knotted when he heard one of the men say, “I like this street. This one is prettier than the one last night. Let’s have some fun again!”

  He knew if they got close to Terri, he was going to have an even bigger problem. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and yelled, “Terri! GET DOWN! NOW!” Before his lips had finished his warning to her, his finger started pulling the trigger.

  She heard a shout and was startled for half a second as shots were being fired. She half-knelt, half-dived to the pavement and covered her ears.

  Bishop had the advantage of both night vision and surprise. His first and second shots hit two men directly in the chest, and both went down instantly. He did not have an angle on the others as the truck blocked his view. He dropped to a knee and started laying fire under the truck, hoping to skip the bullets into the men on the other side. He sensed, more than saw, another one fall. One guy managed to rise up over the bed and loosed two shots in Bishop’s general direction, but they were not close. Bishop saw the driver’s door open and a leg stick out. He put three shots into the door, and the driver slid to the ground. He was moving toward Terri, wanting to get between her and the truck. As he quickly walked toward her, he punched rounds into and around the truck. He was about four steps away from Terri when he heard his bolt lock open. He was empty. He hit the magazine drop button on the M4 and felt it fall out. He reached to his chest and pulled out a full magazine, but dropped it on the ground in haste. He reached for another and managed to slam it into his weapon, when one of the attackers rose up and let spray several shots. One of them hit Bishop in the chest. He remembered falling right on top of Terri, and then a small, black circle appeared in his vision. He couldn’t get his breath, and his brain would not control his body.

  The men were not sure if they had hit anyone, and it took them seconds to regroup and muster the courage to stick their heads up. Terri was jolted when Bishop fell on her. She didn’t know who it was at first, but then recognized his rifle. Her hand was right next to the pistol on his belt, and she unsnapped the holster and pulled it out. She kept whispering, “Bishop? Are you okay?” while trying to watch for the men shooting at them. She rolled him off of her and felt him breathing. Her hands ran up and down his body in the dark, feeling for blood. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and the outline of one of the attackers approaching. She flicked the safety off the pistol and pulled the trigger, but only heard a soft click. What in the hell did he teach me to do, she thought. She finally remembered and worked the slide on the big pistol. She pulled the trigger again, and it roared. She pulled the trigger three more times quickly.

  The remaining attackers decided they had had enough. They slowly backed away, then turned and ran.

  When several men from the neighborhood finally came to the rescue, Terri was still on the ground holding the pistol. She almost shot one of them by mistake. They helped Terri off the ground, and two of them picked up Bishop, who moaned and cursed when they grabbed him under the arms.

  Bishop’s head started to clear, and he found himself lying in the grass. There were all kinds of people standing around with flashlights shining on him. He felt his chest where the bullet had struck but didn’t feel any wound. Terri was beside him and held up his body armor with a bullet stuck in it. She said, “This saved you, but
it hit you right in your bad ribs. I think you are going to be sore.”

  “Are those bastards gone?” he said weakly.

  “Yes. The men are down at the entrance checking around. It’s going to be okay. You saved me.”

  “Where the hell was your pistol, Terri?” he said, before closing his eyes.

  He was having dreams of being under a waterfall, the cold water felt great. He woke up in his bed and tried to sit up. His ribs protested, and he decided that could wait.

  Terri came into the bedroom with a cup of coffee. She sat it down beside him and just smiled. He looked at her belt and noticed she had her pistol tucked inside it. That made him smile. He then felt down his body and confirmed he was naked. He smelled his armpits and realized he was squeaky clean. “How did I…” he started. Terri interrupted him, “Cindy and a couple of the women helped me clean you up. We wanted to check that you were not hurt anywhere. You smelled awful, Bishop. All the girls thought so.”

  “Great. The first time I get naked with more than one woman, I can’t remember it; and I stunk to high heaven. That’s just great.”

  “Don’t worry, hun. We had plenty of fun without you.”

  Bishop just moaned and rolled his eyes.

  The Alamo, Houston Style

  It was almost noon when Bishop woke up, but he didn’t realize how late it was. I sure am spending a lot of time in this bed these days, he thought. He managed to get up without too much effort and made himself a cup of coffee using the grill and teapot. He was sipping the hot brew when he looked at his watch. Oh shit, he thought, we have to get started.

  Terri was out by the street, talking with some neighbors when he found her. She looked up as he approached and asked, “How is my hero feeling?”

  “Just peachy keen. Terri, I need to talk to the guys. It’s important.”

  Terri replied in her best official tone, “Talk to me, sir. I am your official block councilwoman. How may I help you?” she said with her eyebrows going up and down.

  “Seriously, Terri, those guys from last night are going to be back. For a while they will fume over the ass-kicking they took, and then will be back mad as hell. We need to be ready.”

  “Bishop, don’t worry about it. Our guys are taking turns down by the entrance. We organized shifts to keep watch. They even have a signal whistle.”

  “They won’t come to the entrance. They will come through the woods.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Terri, that’s what I would do if I were them. They know there are people here with guns and ammunition. They know they haven’t looted this street yet. We hurt them badly last night, so they’ll try a different way. Can you get all the guys together? We have a lot of work to do before it gets dark.”

  “Sure. Where do you want them?”

  “Ask them to meet by our garage.”

  Bishop opened his garage door. He searched in a cabinet for a bit and found what he was looking for. He went to his bedroom closet, filled a bag with shotgun shells, and then went back to the garage.

  The neighborhood men started arriving one by one. As soon as most of them were there, Bishop said, “Hey guys, thanks for coming over. I think the gentlemen who attacked us last night will be back, probably tonight. I know we have guards at the front now, but I don’t believe we will be attacked from that direction. I wouldn’t if I were them.”

  “How do you think they will come at us, Bishop?” someone asked.

  “If I were them, I would come in from the woods over there,” he said pointing. “I would scout the neighborhood and see the guys at the entrance. I would bypass the guards, work my way through the woods, and attack from a new direction.”

  “Bishop, there is no way we can guard all of that ground all night. How the hell are we supposed to cover the entire area?”

  “I have an idea that I think will work. We need an early warning system, and I’m pretty sure we can make one. Does anyone have fishing line at home?”

  A couple of the men did, and ran off the get it. Bishop pulled out a big piece of cardboard and a marker and started drawing a map of their street. He had just finished when the men returned with spools of fishing line.

  Bishop motioned them all close and pointed at the map. “Here is what I think we should do,” outlining his plan.

  There were some questions and a few suggestions. Within an hour, everyone agreed on the strategy, and they proceeded installing the early warning system throughout the neighborhood.

  The first step had been to use a two-story house, one on each side of the street and as close to the middle of the neighborhood as possible. With agreement from the owners, they went to the second story of each house and noted on the map where the blind spots where.

  Then they hung the fishing line as tripwires outside. They used hammer and nails, small hooks and anything available to hang the lines and cover the blind spots. While one crew was rigging the wires, Bishop was showing others how to build the noisemakers. He had a bag of mousetraps that he had picked up a long time ago to use in the attic. He showed everyone where to drill a hole in the traps, glue a small nail and a shotgun shell to create a noisemaker. If the trap were sprung, the nail would hit the shotgun shell and go boom.

  “Where the hell did you learn this shit, Bishop?”

  “I took a class once in the Army.”

  After they made the booby traps, as one man called them, they went around the neighborhood carefully hooking them up to the fishing line tripwires. Bishop checked each one and thought it was the best they could do in such a short time. Everyone met back at his garage.

  “I only have two night vision scopes. After I mount them on the rifles, we will use one in each house on the second floor. They will only fit on my rifles, so I need the guys manning the watch towers to learn how they work.”

  Everyone wanted to learn, so Bishop spent the next hour teaching the basics of an M4 carbine. Some of the men had been in the military, and it came back to them quickly. “The M4 is just a newer version of the old M16,” he told them. “All of the controls are the same.”

  It was starting to get dark, but Bishop had a few more things to go over.

  “We won’t be able to tell exactly which tripwire they hit. All shotgun shells sound the same, and the noise will echo around the houses. The guys in the watchtowers will have the best chance of seeing or hearing which one was tripped. I have numbered them on the map. You guys should all do the same. If they go off, everyone should meet at this house, right here. This is our rally point.”

  Bishop reached in his bag and pulled out a bunch of glow sticks. He handed each man one and said, “If you hear a shot, break this stick, and hang it around your neck on the way to the rally point. It will keep a friend from shooting you. Once we have gathered at the rally point, we will take them off and go after the looters. “

  “One more thing – It’s possible that they will try an enveloping attack, or diversion. They may send two guys in here first and then a bigger group comes afterwards, from another direction. Don’t fall for it. Unless you are supposed to meet at the rally point, stay at your post and keep a sharp eye out. If the rally point gets in trouble, we will shoot a flare, and that will mean come and help.”

  Everyone thought they were ready and knew their job. Bishop was exhausted, so he readied all of his gear by the door and went to bed.

  Breach

  Bishop had given each watchtower a Walkie Talkie and kept one as well. He sat it next to the bed and throughout the night, every hour, he heard, “One…ok,” and then, “Two…ok.”

  He set his watch alarm for 3:00 a.m., and it started beeping. He thought it would be after three if they were coming at all. After his alarm sounded, he heard guards check in again over the radio. He had made some coffee before going to bed and warmed it up on the grill. He put on his load gear, slung up his rifle, and strolled out into the cool, early morning air. He keyed the radio and said, “This is Bishop – I am walking to the ra
lly point, so don’t shoot me.”

  He walked slowly down the street, stopping to drink coffee, and listen at every block. He made it to the rally point and sat down on the curb to finish his coffee.

  “One - movement - I have four men with rifles walking through the woods. They are using flashlights. I could shoot them right now.”

  Bishop keyed his radio, “One, don’t shoot anybody. Until they come over our fence line, they are hunting deer for all we know.”

  Bishop made sure his weapons were ready and just waited. After a bit, he keyed his radio and said, “Two, how does it look over there?”

  “Two. All clear here, Bishop. Do you need help?”

  “Two. Thanks, but I got it. Keep watching.”

  “Okay.”

  “One. Bishop, they are heading for our fence, right behind #44. I don’t think there is a booby trap there.”

  Bishop wished he had made a map to bring with him. He was pretty sure that #44 was not covered, but was having trouble remembering exactly where each tripwire was. He also had a much bigger problem than his memory. He had planned on one of the booby traps being tripped, and the other guys rushing to the rally point. It now looked like the bad guys were going to cross the fence where there weren’t any alarms, and he had no way of calling the others for help. He was on his own.

  Bishop keyed his radio as he headed for #46, right next door to where the strangers were headed. “One. I am heading to #46. I’m going by myself. Do you have a clean shot at where they are going to come through the fence?”