Tom Grossman was inside The Duck Blind, talking to Thorssen about setting up triage and treatment there if a big fight for the town broke out.
“There’s a limit to what I could do,” Thorssen said. “I’ve got no equipment here, other than the couple first-aid kits on hand, but if there was some serious shooting going on, I’d blow through what they’ve got real quick. If there’s a way to get me to the firehouse before you kick things off, that would be best.”
Grossman shook his head. There was no way he was going to sneak the big guy anywhere. “One of my first objectives is to secure the firehouse, for exactly that reason. There’s no way we’re going to get this done without people getting hurt. The faster you can start treating them, the better.”
“Better option, of course, is to see if we can get them to leave on their own. Just let them know we’re onto them, and send ’em on their way.”
“If only it would be that easy,” Grossman said. “I think they’ve decided they’re comfortable here. Word from Cathy Berkman is that I’ve got maybe twenty-five people total committed to taking up arms with me. With the police situation still being a complete unknown, I don’t think we’ve got the numbers to negotiate from a position of strength.”
There was a series of three hard stomps on the roof. Grossman went outside and climbed halfway up the stairs to the rooftop deck. Without taking his eye off his telescope, the owner said, “There’s a ton of whistling, and we’ve got a lot of troopies clearly moving this way. I don’t know if you were sighted earlier, but they’re definitely moving in on us.”
“Right,” Grossman said, glad he had the foresight to not come all the way up. “That’s my cue. I’m heading into town. Don’t take any stupid risks for me. If I don’t manage to distract their attention away from you, get yourselves and Thorssen to safety before they get here.”
Less than a minute later, Grossman was back in the drainage ditch, with a borrowed AR-15 slung across his back while he carried his pistol in his free hand. His makeshift cane sank into the soft, wet earth at the bottom of the ditch, but he still managed to make good time.
Unfortunately, it was not good enough. A burst of automatic rifle fire sounded a little bit ahead of him, answered by single shots. Something must have caught the attention of Prange’s troops. Grossman considered how much ammunition he had in each of his weapons and decided he could spare more AR-15 rounds to send out the signal to go. As he was getting the rifle off his back, another firefight started up, farther behind him, then a third burst of rifles on full auto started up.
Grossman held the rifle for a second. He knew that his people were waiting on him to give the command to go on the offensive. If he didn’t, they’d stay put where they were, defending if attacked, but otherwise not engaging. Before giving the signal, he had to consider whether it was truly time to ask them to actively put their lives at risk by stepping out of their homes and taking on the enemy.
With a sharp, metallic click, he thumbed the safety and pulled the trigger three times. He paused, fired twice, paused again, and sent three more rounds up into the sky. In an instant, two other rifles repeated the pattern from different places in town.
Grossman started moving. Not only had he just given his position away, but he needed to get into town to join up with his allies, instead of letting himself get pinned down. The sudden surge of gunfire from many new directions seemed to have distracted the attention of Prange’s forces, and he managed to cover the remaining distance to the intersection at the edge of town without hearing anybody moving or firing toward him.
He let his head crest the edge of the ditch just enough to get a look at the immediate situation. Seeing several men moving toward The Duck Blind, he hoped the folks there had taken his orders to heart and had already moved out. He hated the thought of Thorssen going to ground outside of town, but once the Blind had been compromised, he couldn’t risk him being recaptured by Prange’s men. His folks would have to rely on their own skills through the fight to come, hopefully stabilizing any wounded until it was safe to get Thorssen back into town.
Turning his attention back to the town itself, he caught sight of two men with flashes of red at their arms and ankles. Looking to be certain the strips of cloth on his own arm and ankle hadn’t fallen off in his fast walk down the ditch, Grossman made one more check for any hostiles that had a view on the road, then went over the top. He felt horribly exposed while he limped across the street, almost unable to breathe until he dropped down into the ditch on the far side. Pain lanced up from his bad knee at the rough landing, but it didn’t feel like he’d damaged anything.
The ditch on that side of the road wasn’t as deep, but it was still decent cover. Keeping as low as he could within the limits of how far he could bend his knee, he moved off toward where he’d last seen his men. He was almost there when he heard the challenge.
“Predator.”
“Aliens,” Grossman replied.
Somebody poked his head around a parked car. “Great to see you again, sir!”
Grossman immediately recognized the man. “You too, Wes. Looks like you and your buddy here are my escort over to the staging point. Any idea yet how things are going?”
“Not yet. We just got into the action. How about you?”
“Same here. Let’s get moving.”
“I take it things took off ahead of schedule?” Wes asked.
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to have to take it easy here.” Wes pointed between two houses. “We saw two more of our guys duck behind there just before we heard you come up on us. Don’t want any friendly fire.”
“Plus, one of Schuster’s new deputies lives right across the street there,” the other man said.
“Thanks,” Grossman said. “Keep your eyes on it while Wes and I keep watch around us.”
In the distance, he heard one of the diesel trucks on the move, seeming like it was heading down the main street toward The Duck Blind. He sent up another silent prayer that the folks there had gotten away from the place and were well hidden.
Looking at the two men with him, he said, “All right, my friends. Looks like Prange started the ball rolling a little bit early. Let’s get the plan back on track and get him the hell out of our town.”
Peter kept his rifle moving, using the scope to try and figure out where the hostile gunfire was coming from. With Bill and Chuck pinned down halfway across the open land between himself and the tree line, he needed to find out where to lay down some suppressing fire.
“They’re reloading,” Larry said suddenly, elbowing him, then he turned to the empty field and shouted, “Run!”
Bill and Chuck got up and moved like their asses were on fire. Another burst of automatic fire sounded, which drew Peter’s attention back to the line of houses. “Got it!” he said. “The white one, three houses up, but we don’t have a good shot.”
The final two members of his team slid into place behind him. “You two all right?”
“Not hit,” Bill said.
“Good. I think we’ve got an opportunity here. The baddies are between us and the beige house. We can flank them. We just need to be careful to avoid friendly fire, both directions.” Peter took another look at each of his people. All had their red cloth in place.
“Do we split up, one team up the street, one through the backyards?” Irene asked.
“No,” Peter said. “Let’s stick to the original plan, move as a party of five.”
Larry leaned out from the corner of the house, looking up the line of backyards. “One yard is fenced in, so we’ll have to jump two chain links. I think it’s the safer approach, though. We go up the front yards, we expose ourselves to anybody across the street. Here, we’ve only got the bad guys to the front, unless somebody comes around the town wide through the woods like we did.”
“Good call. Let’s do it,” Peter said. He decided the best thing to do was lead from the front. “I’ll roll first.” Before he stepped out, he poun
ded on the side of the house. “Predator,” he called out, just in case the folks inside were in on the signaling scheme. As he ran along the back edge of the house, he realized they’d be able to get pretty close without exposing themselves to direct fire and tried to figure his best approach for the next step.
The whole crew managed to get up to his location without drawing any fire. “There’s no angle for anybody,” Chuck said when he settled in.
Peter nodded. The houses on the street were about a hundred feet apart. The one with the bad guys in it was still two houses down. “Yeah. I think we can hop past this house, but then we need to sort what we’re doing for the next. We can either go into it and try to have a slug fest with the one next to it, or we can hop that last neutral house and see about getting into the one with the baddies in it.”
“If we want to get them out, I think we need to go in,” Bill said. “We occupy the house next door and we only have a chance at folks that come to our side and engage with us.”
Irene shook her head. “What’s wrong with getting into the house next to them? We’d have them pinned down at least. It’s not a flashy fight, but it would be a smart one.” She looked at Peter.
“We wouldn’t have them pinned down, though,” Peter said. “With the houses all in a line, we only have clear shots on the rooms on the south face.” He leaned out from around the corner of the house. They were at the property with the fenced yard. He still didn’t have a good line of sight on their target house to see what the options for getting inside were. “Here’s what I’m thinking. Get ourselves up to the south side of the target house. Once we’re all there, Chuck, Irene, and Bill will move up to the front corner to watch for anybody trying to escape that way. Larry and I will find the back door and go in. Subject to change depending on the situation on the ground once we get there, but barring anything that makes that unfeasible, that’s the plan.” He looked around, and nobody objected.
Hopping the two chain link fences wasn’t a problem. A dog barked from inside the house, and he heard somebody yell, “Stay outside or we shoot.” Peter banged on one of the windows. “We’re with Bowman,” he said.
“Same,” came a reply from inside. “But don’t come inside.”
After that exchange, Peter felt it important to touch base with the rest of his crew who’d heard at least his side of the exchange. He sent a thumbs up and waved them on. When they were reassembled again, he said, “The open land between the far side of this house and the near side of the next is dangerous. They might have enough people that somebody is covering that side.” The sound of gunfire between the target house and the beige house at the end of the block hadn’t stopped.
Peter looked at his team. “Larry and I will cross that together and take up position at the rear corner. Once we’re set, you three go one at a time for the front corner. Anyone providing cover for the folks crossing, watch every damn window.”
“Got it,” Bill said. “I’ll go last.”
Peter led his crew in a single file along the back edge of the final house before their target. They were just about up to the patio doors when he heard, “Predator! Predator!”
“Aliens,” he responded, and heard a lock slide. The patio door cracked open.
“We saw your red sashes. What’s your plan?” the voice inside the house asked.
“Two in the back door, three stay outside in case anybody comes out the front,” Peter said. His heart was hammering in his chest, praying that the bad guys hadn’t figured out the codes.
“We think there are four inside. Two are on our side, but they’re not showing their faces, not taking any bait. The guys on the other side of the house are more twitchy.”
Peter applied that information to his plans. If there were four people inside, that changed things a lot. “We’ve got five. Should we all go in?”
“Up to you. Just don’t suddenly appear at a window on this side. There’s a stalemate across the street, too. Nobody is willing to come out their front doors, friend or foe.”
The rest of Peter’s crew were close enough to hear the conversation. “Putting people at the front corner sounds like a bad idea. Let’s all five go in. Bill, Chuck, and I will go for the guys on the far side. Larry and Irene, you two sort the guys on this side. Remember, we never go close to any window. What do you say?”
“Good by me,” Irene said, putting a hand on Larry’s shoulder.
“All right. We go in the back door. Once we see what the place looks like inside, we’ll sort out the best plan of attack to take our respective halves.” Peter looked everyone in the eye. He led them all to the corner of the house, then one by one, they dashed across the open land to the target house. “Stay low, under the windows as we move.”
Unlike the previous house, this one had a good solid-core back door instead of a sliding-glass patio door. They had no idea what was on the other side of it, and nobody was willing to put their face up to the small window in the door to look in.
“Here’s what we do,” Bill said. “Chuck, you take the far side of the door, Peter, near side. I’ll take center, kick it in and step back. As soon as you can see inside, I’ll clear the center of the room. You guys each take the arc from the center around to the corners opposite you.”
Peter nodded. “Right. We’ll all sound off when we’re sure our third of the room is clear. Only then will anybody enter. Nobody crosses anybody’s line of fire when we go through the door except for me. When I go in, Bill and Chuck, aim down until I’m in. Got it?”
“One thing,” Irene said. “We don’t know where the homeowners are, so don’t shoot anybody unless you can see a clear weapon. Just in case the phonies are holding hostages.”
“Good catch. We ready?” Peter asked. He, Chuck, and Bill took up their positions, still staying as close to the house as they could. Anybody on the upper floor would need to lean all the way out the window to shoot at them.
Bill quietly counted down from three, then kicked the door open, immediately bringing his shotgun up. Peter looked in the open doorway, sweeping his aim from left to right. When Bill and Chuck called “Clear,” he had to hesitate. The door had swung all the way open when Bill forced it, banged on the wall, and then halfway closed. Peter couldn’t see what was beyond the door. His companions seemed to understand his hesitation, and Chuck reached into the doorway with his hand to slowly push the door all the way open again.
“Okay. Clear,” Peter said. He waited until the other two at the doorway lowered their weapons before stepping into the room. It was a kitchen in an open-plan first floor. As the rest of the crew filed in behind him, he could barely make out the bottom of a flight of stairs.
He tapped Chuck on the shoulder and pointed over to a closed door. The two went over. From the layout, Peter assumed it was the master bedroom. Once Chuck was in place, flanking it, Peter slowly turned the doorknob and then threw the door open.
“Don’t shoot!” he shouted immediately. Cowering in the corner were three people, two adults and one of the sophomore boys on his football team. They all had duct tape over their mouths, crudely wrapped all the way around their heads. Their wrists and ankles were also taped.
Chuck flipped out a pocketknife and quickly cut the tape binding their hands and feet together, leaving them to deal with the tape in their hair on their own. “Anybody down in the basement?” he asked. All three shrugged their shoulders.
The entire time, the rhythm of gunshots from one half of the upstairs continued, but there was a noticeable change. Bill, Larry, and Irene kept their guns trained on the base of the stairs, waiting for anybody that might come down while Peter and Chuck cleared the remaining rooms on the first floor.
“Dare we hope nobody went downstairs and focus on clearing out the second floor?” Larry asked.
“I’d hate to get trapped in the basement,” Bill said.
Irene scratched at the back of her neck. “Agreed. I think it’s a reasonable risk to ignore the basement and focus on getting t
he guys upstairs.”
“They know we’re down here,” Peter said. “So let’s assume they’re going to be defending the stairway. What’s the best approach?”
Bill tapped the side of his shotgun. “I should lead off with this. We’ll go up, backs to the wall, and I’ll just empty this thing at anything that moves. Once I’m out, I’m going to have to duck down to reload and turn it over to you guys to finish up.”
Peter slung the SKS and drew his Glock. “Tight quarters, so let’s use sidearms.”
Bill handed his pistol over to Chuck, the only one in the group who didn’t have one, and held his shotgun up. “I can use this just fine at close range.”
Peter looked at his crew. To follow Bill’s plan, anybody with their back to the wall would be sidestepping up the stairs to their left. Irene was left-handed, so he decided to have her follow Bill, aiming up and over his head in case somebody poked out from the rooms behind them. He opted to go next, followed by Larry and Chuck. “Let’s do it.”
The room that had been firing the whole time was behind them. That was one thing Peter hoped they had to their advantage—the ones at their back were likely to be lowest on ammunition. He tapped Bill on the shoulder, and the five of them started their careful, slow progress to the stairs. Nobody had shot at them by the time they got to the base.
“Ready?” Bill asked, getting down so he was almost sitting on the bottom step.
Peter nodded. Irene held her arm straight out to the side, pointing at the door jamb at the top of the stairs. Step by step, the group ascended. Sweat beaded on Peter’s brow and threatened to run into his eyes.
Six stairs up, Bill fired, the shotgun insanely loud inside the house. He squeezed off a second shot, and a third. Peter took advantage of the moment to stand straight up and look. He caught sight of camouflage cloth and fired twice.
From behind and above, he heard more shots, and felt a light rain of dust. The people in the room at his back were shooting wildly through the wall. Bill dropped down a couple steps and started feeding fresh rounds into his twelve gauge. Meanwhile, there was a pause in the sound from behind him. He slapped Irene’s leg. “They’re reloading!”
Age of Survival Series | Book 2 | Age of Panic Page 19
