by AJ Newman
“I like the plan, but let’s make one minor change. We shoot Steele’s men as they come out of their building, and then we shoot the Sheriff and his crew as they respond to the attack.
Now, where is Steele?”
Jim Rayburn said, “He came back to town to see our Doctor. I guess he’s at his home by now.”
“Good, now listen up. I want him alive if possible.
This is your chance to get just a bit of justice for their brutality to you and the whole town. I guarantee it will make the people of Pinedale stronger, because it is a truism that if you take a stand once, you will be emboldened to always take that stand.”
Everyone agreed to the plan, we carefully got into position, and placed a guard to watch the Sheriff’s office.
Alice hobbled into the headquarters acting as though she were wounded and told them the story. They took one look at the blood and brains splattered on her from Jim killing the guard and hauled ass out the door into a hail of bullets.
There were five of them and three were killed instantly by well-placed headshots. The others were hurting, but they were saved by their body armor. One was out of action, but the second man put up a good fight for a few minutes until Alice stepped out of the building and shot him in the back of the head.
I yelled, “Get ready; the Sheriff’s men will be here at any moment.”
The Sheriff’s men were seen jumping aboard a truck and heading south out of town. They were never seen again. The town was now free of Steele’s men and we just needed to kill him and then the rest of his men at the ranch.
We inspected the dead and discovered that Steele was not among them. We went to his house and demanded he come out, hands up.
There was no response, so I slipped around to the back door and found it to be unlocked, dumb. I eased the door open and cautiously went from room to room in search of the, so called, Ruler of Pinedale. Steele was gone.
I walked out the front door and asked if anyone had any idea of his whereabouts.
Jim said, “Matt, his truck is here, so he can’t be far.”
I directed a search of all the surrounding buildings while I circled the house, and what do you know; I found his tracks in the snow, yep, tracks in the snow.
I thought, I’m comin’ for you, you slimy bastard.
I set out in pursuit of Steele, and by using his tracks in the foot deep snow I made much better time than he, trudging through the snow, which must have seemed to be trying to hold him back.
I caught sight of him about a half a mile from his house. When I closed to within 100 yards, he turned and fired his handgun. Yeah, fat chance of hitting me with that popgun at this range.
I stopped, calmed my breathing, took aim at his right leg and using the pad of my index finger squeezed the trigger. Steele went down in a heap, squealing like the stuck pig he was.
I guess my aim was a tad off because the 9mm piece of lead hit him squarely in the right buttock…karma…
“No, please don’t shoot, I give up, please don’t kill me,” whined the great tyrant.
I ordered him to his feet and directed him to hobble back to town. Every time he tried to stop to rest, I gave him a little prod to his boo boo.
When we arrived back at his house the Doctor was treating two of the townspeople who had received minor injuries in the fight. The rest were pumped up and ready to whip the world, but I knew that the only reason we weren’t burying half a dozen of them was that we ambushed unsuspecting men. Those guys would have torn us up had they known we were coming.
Dr. Kanady asked if Steele needed help. “No, Doc, you take care of the folks here.”
Steele squealed again, and begged, “No, wait, Doctor, I’ve been shot. Please help me!”
The Doc told him to shut the hell up. If Mr. Jones says you’re not hurt then suck it up you rat bastard, because I personally don’t give a rat’s ass how hurt you are.”
We went to the jail and released the hostages as the crowd outside grew larger. My new friends were busy telling everyone about the recent events and soon there was a chant being heard in the streets.
The crowd was becoming a mob wanting blood.
I told them, “Nobody here is going to hang Steele. He gets a military tribunal.”
The squealing pig cried, “Yes, thank you Mr. Jones. Thank you. It wasn’t me, I wasn’t the one really in charge, I swear.”
“Shut up, Steele.”
The crowd did not like my position on the fate of this pig, and made their opinions known. “Hang him! Hang him, now!”
I drew my sidearm and fired into the dirt just in front of the crowd. They quieted right down…
“Now you people listen to me. This man gets a fair trial in front of a military or a duly selected militia officer.
Since there is no regular military officer present, we need a duly selected militia officer. Is one present?”
The crowd became silent, as there was no militia in Pinedale.
I said, “All right, since there is no duly selected militia officer available, do I hear nominations for commander of the Pinedale Militia?”
The crowd was too stunned to respond for a few seconds when someone shouted, “I nominate Matt Jones as the Commanding General of the Pinedale Militia.”
The crowd cheered and it was a unanimous vote. I was the commander of the local militia, consisting of one member, me.
I said, “All right, I accept, and since we now have a lawful military tribunal established we can try Mr. Steele for his alleged crimes.
Mr. Steele, this tribunal finds you guilty of murder, treason and theft. The punishment is death. Do you have any last words?”
That asshole had lots to say, but I stopped him after about four words.
Walking up to the convicted murderer I said, “Mr. Steele you have been found guilty of numerous capital crimes, and a duly elected military tribunal has sentenced you to death. The sentence is to be carried out immediately.”
I looked down at this miserable coward, drew my pistol and carried out the sentence, with prejudice.
“Matt for Sheriff. Matt for Mayor,” shouted the crowd.
I watched as the mayor and several others who had betrayed the town were gathered up and placed in jail cells.
“Sorry, but I’m going home to get rid of the rest of his murderers row.”
There was a rumble in the crowd as most of the sheeple decided the coming fight at my ranch was not their problem and went back in their homes. I was deeply disappointed and thoroughly disgusted by the cowardice of those who chose not to get involved, but very proud of the group that stayed with me to finish the fight.
Jim led the others to me and said, “What can we do to help get rid of the rest of those murdering bastards?”
“The first thing is to get body armor on all of our people and upgrade weapons to the ARs and AKs. Check their weapons cache for suppressors so we can kill as many as possible without making too much noise, remember, a suppressed weapon is still loud but it makes the shot sound as if it came from farther away.
Jim, give me your AR. You take mine with the suppressor. We’ll slip into position after midnight and start sniping at anyone that shows their heads.
The hard part will be getting them out of the cabin where we can engage them. That house is a fortress.”
Jim replied, “Damn, we don’t want to burn your house down to get rid of them.”
“Don’t worry; I have an idea that should smoke them out where you can shoot them. I’m going to sneak into the cabin while you get into position. Give me half an hour before you start sniping and soon, the rest will gladly run out of the cabin. Jim will take charge of the attack. Do what he says.”
Several said, “Yes sir.”
I took one of Steele’s pickups and drove back to my place. I hid the truck and worked my way towards the house through a corridor that I knew to have the least sensors and cameras.
I made it to the back of the house and nearly tripped over the sle
eping guard. I couldn’t believe it, his hand was on a nearly empty bottle and his head was flopped back exposing his neck. Well, not one to miss a great opportunity I slid my blade across his neck. He bled out quickly and without a sound.
I had hoped to get the door open. I knew I could get into the hidden bunker, retrieve the tear gas canisters and place them in the house to run the invaders out into the open.
I started trying to pick the lock without success, and then switched to prying on the door to break the door handle when the door opened.
“Matt, shut up and come on in,” whispered a very familiar voice.
“Mary, you’re alive,” I whispered as I hugged her.”
“Patty is alive too. We hid in the bunker.”
Mary ushered me into the bunker and into Patty’s arms. I was resigned to the fact that they were both dead and this was one hell of a shock, a wonderful shock.
“We have to take out the rest of these men now, but I want to know how you survived the executions.”
“They killed some town’s people, not us. We were already hidden in the bunker. What do we need to do?”
“Help me find the tear gas canisters and a mask. I’m going to set one off upstairs and flush these rats out into the open so our friends from town can pick them off.”
“Matt, we still have three bombs on the barn side of the driveway. If you send them that way, I can blow the bastards straight to Hell, on a long black express train.”
“I’ll block the front door before I set the canister off. Let’s roll.”
I put a tactical vest on and clipped a tear gas canister to it before checking my Glock and getting a kiss from each of the girls. I closed the bunker doors and slowly crept back upstairs. There was a guard posted outside by both the front and back doors.
All of the others were sacked out in the bedrooms and one was passed out in the living room. I waited until the thirty minutes were up. I immediately head a pop, as though from a long way off. I watched the guard at the front door drop to the porch dead. A second later the guard, still in his chair, at the back door slumped to the ground.
Without making a sound, I eased a recliner in front of the front door and moved on to the back bedroom. I pulled the pin on the canister and quickly tossed it into the hallway before hiding behind the couch where the drunk was sleeping.
I could hear the men in the bedrooms screaming “FIRE!” Then quickly began coughing and wheezing as they scurried to find their pants and guns.
The ever-growing cloud of tear gas was choking them. They had no choice but to run for the outside air. The man on the couch woke up coughing, grabbed his gun, scanned the room and saw me lurking in the shadows. He whirled around to shoot me, but I already had my gun on him and pulled the trigger twice. He was in Hell before his head hit the floor.
As the men fled the house, the confluence of both gunfire, and mines readily dispatched the invaders to whatever Valhalla murderers go once their miserable existence in this life is over.
I saw one move and without hesitation hurried him along to join his buddies. Then, I went from one to the other taking headshots to assure they would never bother anyone again.
I thanked God, that I was the only one wounded. Shrapnel from one of the mines hit me and the fall on my ass reinjured my gunshot wound. Patty cleaned my wound, dressed it and put a bandage on it as usual, saying, “Idiot, now I’m going to really put your ass in a sling.
Just what the hell were you doing running around outside when you knew explosions were on the way?”
She was angry with me, and scared when she said, “I cannot believe that you did something so stupid.”
She screamed, “Mary, heaven help us, we’re in the hands of a maniac. He’s a moron!
Damn you Matt Jones!” Now crying she said, “Please Matt don’t get yourself killed. I, er, we need you.”
She kissed me on the forehead…yeah, again with the forehead, turned me over to Mary, and ran sobbing into the house.
“Well, Mr. Moron, she’s right you know. I am telling you right now; there will be no more of that kind of Rambo shit. It’s not that we like you, but we are used to you.”
She also kissed me on the forehead…yeah, I know…before helping me up.
“Oh, one last question Matt. Do you always get hit in the ass?” Smiling she asked if I needed some help.”
Damn, I was on someone’s shit list.
I thanked the men and women from town that helped us get rid of Steele and his men. They were happy to have their town back and anxious to get back to their loved ones.
I went back into the house and helped the ladies open all the windows, and turning on the fans, before going down to the bunker, and a cot.
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Chapter 13
Global Cooling?
The Ranch
The next few weeks were boring compared to the earlier battles. The burned out Humvee and the craters in the driveway reminded us daily that it was not safe here anymore.
Daytime temperatures hovered around zero degrees Fahrenheit and at night, the temperatures dropped to the thirty below zero neighborhood, danged cold neighborhood.
Fortunately, for us, Frank had installed valves and drains to keep pipes from bursting and I methodically drained all of the upstairs pipes since we had moved to the easier to heat basement.
I kept the wood burning stoves full and we closed down most of the house. Moving Mary down to the basement was a chore, but with Patty’s assistance, we got her down there without dropping her on her head even once.
My wounds were still tender and I moved slower than normal, but I could move around as long as I favored my right leg. Patty recovered also, and was pretty much back to normal, but still favored her left side and couldn’t lift much yet.
Mary had me worried, because we needed to load up and get the hell out of Dodge, and she needed two to three more weeks before she would be well enough to help with the loading preps, and be well enough to travel.
Her wounds were progressing better than expected, but she could only get around with the aid of a crutch for now. The upside was that none of us were in much pain unless we over did it and tried to do too much, which was, unfortunately, exactly what we needed to be doing.
Guard duty at night was next to impossible due to the cold and high winds so we had to rely on the monitors. I personally thought that if anyone was stupid enough to attempt an attack on us when the temperature was thirty below zero he deserved to be added to the rock hard frozen bodies already placed.
Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. The week after the big brouhaha, I was feeling really bored. Mary reminded me about the archaeologists who would find those preserved bodies in a hundred thousand years, or so, and I got to thinking that I might have some fun, so I went out to the bodies, that were then like concrete.
I dragged them into a circle after building a 2-foot high pyramid in the center. I then placed a rock just behind each head. Now it looked like a crude ceremonial altar. I just wish I could see the archaeologists faces while they tried to figure out what it all meant.
We had a couple of days with snow and woke up one morning to another seven inches of the white powder. The bad news was that half of the monitors were blocked with snow. It’s true, you just cannot fix stupid. I had forgotten to put the “snow shrouds over the lenses. I retrieved the lenses, warmed up the ATV and made the circuit around the property placing the hooded shrouds on every camera and listening device. It was so freakin cold, and I hate being cold. We gotta’ get out of this place. Okay, back to my story.
I didn’t see anyone on the patrol around the property, but did see smoke rising a few miles west of my position. I saw many signs of animals during my tour, the hide and bones of a deer and even saw a Cougar eating a freshly killed dog. This reminded me not to let Tina and Gus out without me to protect them. The wind howled constantly and I had to keep every inch of skin covered to avoid frostbite.
Fran
k had prepared well for subzero weather. There were several jump suits styled as zero weather suits with hoods, facemasks and built in goggles.
I wore mittens over shooting gloves to be prepared to fight if necessary. The jump suits were white with varying shades of gray camo to blend in with the surroundings. If I stood still no one would notice me unless they saw the cloud my breath made. Really, it is true, at night our exhaled air would not dissipate. This actually happens in Siberia. The Russians call it a habitation fog. I’m serious, they really do.
I knew we had to prepare to leave my fortress home and all of its supplies, but just could not make myself think about the immensity of the task.
***
Then, one afternoon a helicopter landed on our front lawn and scared the crap out of us. We didn’t hear it approach until it was landing because the wind was so loud. It was a military Lakota UH-72I, which is a small utility helicopter. It didn’t have any armaments, but just being there scared us. We grabbed our weapons and headed upstairs to defend our home.
Two people covered head to toe with snow suits got out of the helicopter, raised their hands and approached the front door. They stopped before walking up the steps and yelled something we could not hear. I opened the door, showed them my M&P15 and waived them to approach.
One of the men pulled his facemask off and said, “Is Frank Williamson here. We need to see him.”
Mary responded, “Bill, is that you?”
“Mary, yes it’s me. Can we come in and talk?”
“Yes, and please tell the others to join us.”
Bill waived back at the chopper; the pilot cut the engine and the occupants came running to the house. Six people ran up and into my house. We helped them remove their snowsuits and herded them down into the basement.
