by Nathan Jones
As the last few people ran by he discovered that his entire squad was there. He felt a surge of annoyance as he fell in beside Pete, who'd snagged a rifle from somewhere and was trying to hide among the recruits. “You were assigned to camp.”
The young man gave him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? We're under attack!”
“We'll be under attack a lot, that doesn't change your orders. If we're about to get steamrolled or the camp itself comes under fire you can pick up a gun and join the fight. Otherwise go back and help with the wounded, or wherever else you're needed.”
Pete swore at him and kept running.
Matt tightened his jaw as he kept pace. “That wasn't a request, Pete. Go back, now. Don't make me waste someone's time babysitting you.”
His friend swore at him again, but reluctantly stepped out of line and slowed to a stop. Matt craned his neck to look behind as he kept running with the group, and was relieved when eventually Pete turned around and headed back towards camp. Not before flipping Matt off with both hands, though. Matt shook his head and kept running.
It felt strangely surreal to be heading back to the emplacement where his squad had fought off the first blockhead attack, the day they came rolling in and took Huntington and the rest of the valley. Especially now that it was nighttime, with everything strangely contrasted through the night vision.
Davis had bludgeoned the chatter on the radio into some semblance of order. Spurred forward by notifications from sentries that the enemy was headed their way fast, Matt felt like the run to reach their spot simultaneously took forever and was over in moments.
The first minute or so after they reached the emplacement was a flurry of activity, as Matt directed his people to spots along the fortifications and gave terse firing instructions. He was so occupied with organizing things that he didn't even pause to look towards the mouth of the canyon until he was sure all his people were in place and knew what to do. Only when he'd taken his own place behind the sandbags did he lift his rifle to peer through the scope.
He could've done without what he saw down there.
He'd expected to see a wave of enemy soldiers rushing up the road towards them, all nicely bunched up and running headlong into danger like some mindless, screaming horde. Unfortunately instead he saw brief snatches of organized and disciplined teams, running from cover to cover and setting up to offer cover fire to those coming behind or making the next leapfrog forward.
The only hint of the hundreds of troops Davis had warned about was that he saw signs of those teams everywhere he looked. Even on the slopes. Like a strong wind blowing the top of a forest canopy, making ripples in the leaves that slowly spread in waves.
And the closest were only five hundred or so yards away. Almost within accurate firing range already.
Matt toggled on his radio's transmit. “You in place, Trev?”
His friend replied almost immediately. “Ready.”
“Good.” Matt set his rifle on top of a sandbag and got ready to sight through the scope. “Make sure your people know that the enemy will home in on their muzzle flashes. They'll make an easy target at night if they stay still.”
“Understood.”
From the opposite slope he heard the sharp crack of gunfire, along with the flashes he'd just warned about. Someone over there was confident in their aim.
In a way he was annoyed that Trev had jumped the gun. A coordinated volley from all of them would've done more damage, especially if they'd let the enemy get close enough that even the green recruits had a chance of hitting something. But it was no use crying over spilt milk, and anyway their job was to stop the attack, not maximize the number of enemy soldiers they killed.
“Make your first shots count,” Matt told his people as he thumbed off the toggle. “Don't hurry too fast just because the cool kids have already started the party.”
He sighted in on one of the closer teams of blockheads as he spoke, noting that the enemy had gone to ground as soon as they realized they were under fire. A wise decision, but it was hard to cover yourself from two directions at once. Matt saw plenty of exposed limbs, backs, and even heads.
He focused on the back of a blockhead already firing at the north slope, the man's muzzle flash distinct even from slightly behind. He didn't hurry, and he was confident of his shot when he squeezed the trigger.
* * * * *
That attack in the darkness was a nightmare. Only not for their side.
Trev wasn't sure whether the blockheads had hoped the helicopter strike would disrupt their defenses more, or if the enemy just didn't realize just how much night vision gear they had. Which was fair enough, since from what he could see less than one in ten of the Gold Bloc soldiers creeping up the canyon had their own.
They probably thought they were safe and concealed, right up to the moment him, Rick, and Tom all settled on good targets and opened fire.
Sure, he'd admit he wasn't at his best. Not long ago he'd been sleeping peacefully, trusting he was secure in camp with patrols and sentries keeping the enemy away. Waking up and bolting for the trees moments ahead of a missile attack, then rushing to defend against hundreds of enemies, was a pretty rude awakening.
But in spite of grainy eyes and teeth chattering from a massive overdose of adrenaline Trev's grip on his rifle was steady as he selected one target after another. Three round burst, briefly check to see if the target still moved and was out in the open. If so keep firing, otherwise move on to the next target and repeat.
The enemy responded quickly, but not quickly enough. In the vital seconds before they were able to identify where the shots had come from by the muzzle flashes, Trev managed to drop three blockheads in one of the closer teams. Even as the others fled behind cover he managed to tag one who had his arm sticking out in plain view.
“Down!” he barked, suiting his own words by dropping behind cover. For the first volley when they caught the enemy by surprise they could afford to stay up longer, taking full advantage of the brief time they had before the soldiers below recovered and returned fire. But now that they were alerted they'd have to snap off shots and duck and move immediately or risk getting shot themselves.
“Move!” he continued, shifting over a few feet. He popped back up just enough to see through his scope, looking for another target. One blockhead from his original team of targets had part of his arm and shoulder poking out from behind cover, but for the most part the easy opportunities were gone. Trev took a few potshots at that shoulder, but he dropped back down unsure he'd even scored a hit that time.
Then Matt's fighters on the other slope opened fire, probably finding plenty of targets who'd been hiding behind cover from the wrong direction. That gave Trev an opportunity, he hoped, when the enemy soldiers scrambled for new cover and exposed themselves.
He moved a bit and popped up, and as he'd hoped a soldier darting for a tangle of deadfall moved practically right into his crosshairs. Almost by reflex he moved his rifle to follow the motion and squeezed off a shot, and the man dropped. Trev dropped too, but only to move again.
As the firefight progressed it started to feel more and more like a game of whack-a-mole, only Trev and his squad were the moles. That wasn't a good thing for the blockheads.
One of his fighters would pop up with their night vision gear and take out an enemy or two, ideally one of the few who had night vision. Then they'd duck down behind cover as dozens of blockheads zeroed in on the muzzle flash and lit up that spot. Then another squad mate would pop up in a different location and open fire, and rinse repeat.
The tactic was simple but brutal, especially compounded by Matt's squad providing another direction of attack that the enemy was vulnerable to, which they had to provide some response for. With their night vision they were gradually decimating the soldiers below, and so far hadn't taken so much as a stray shot.
Even so Trev wasn't about to take chances. As time went on he started having his people move after every shot instead of ev
ery few shots, just in case some of the blockheads down there weren't just firing wildly at any enemy that shot at them and were actually covering a spot where they'd seen a previous muzzle flash.
With the preparations Davis's people had made with the emplacements there were plenty of spots to fire from, and a little extra work on their part could mean life and death. Nobody complained about hoofing it to another spot between shots.
Unfortunately nothing was perfect, and while his squad had night vision the volunteers weren't so fortunate. They relied on muzzle flashes from below, or pure luck, and it took them longer to line up shots. Trev felt it like hammer blows as first one volunteer, then another, cried out in pain and dropped. One called for a medic, the other didn't get up at all.
“Volunteers to the fallback position, and take the wounded with you!” he called. “Alice, show them the way!”
There was a rustling as almost two-thirds of his people backed away from the sandbags and scuttled to the path. They were led by Alice in her night vision gear calling the way. Feeling a lot more lonely with less than a dozen fighters left, Trev called for his people to move even farther between each shot. He also advised them to take a few seconds before taking the shot to see what the enemy below was doing.
After being stopped dead for almost ten minutes the blockheads were finally starting to advance. They may have been getting cut down like wheat under a scythe, but there were a lot of them and in the dark and confusion they were able to find enough cover to keep moving forward.
Even worse, Davis delivered some bad news over the radio. “Smith, we've got our hands full with blockheads flanking you to the north! Can you send some people up here to help us out?”
Trev bit back a curse as he toggled his mic. “On our way.” He toggled the mic off again and raised his voice over the racket of gunfire. “Rick, you've got command here! Tom, Mason, with me!”
Before leaving the emplacement he shoved a dozen spare magazines into his combat vest, overflowing every pocket then stuffing even more down the front. He also took a moment to swap out his M16's half-full magazine for a full one. Mason had the same idea, while Tom was fumbling with a backpack that clinked with what sounded suspiciously like Molotov cocktails.
He supposed firebombs weren't the worst idea, if the enemy was overwhelming 1st Squad and whatever other fighters Davis had with him. Advancing under fire was one thing, but it took a whole other breed of crazy to advance into fire.
Once his two friends were ready they began scrambling directly up the slope, keeping to whatever cover they could. The northern slope emplacement was about halfway up to the ridge, which he assumed was where Davis had set up his people to defend, but the steep rocky ground was brutal terrain to cover even with night vision.
It felt like it took forever to reach the top. When they finally did, and before they even had time to catch their breath, Davis called to them from a short distance away. Trev straightened with effort and trotted along the spine of the ridge to where the sergeant and his team waited.
“Three guys, huh?” Davis said with a wry twist of his mouth.
Trev shrugged defensively. “I had my volunteers fall back, so there weren't many people to spare. Without night vision they were getting picked off without accomplishing much.”
The sergeant sighed. “Guess it's a good thing command is sending us reinforcements. They should be here within a half hour.”
“We've got firebombs and grenades,” Trev offered. He had a couple frags in his combat vest, and he thought Mason did as well.
“Well nice of you to bring firepower if you didn't feel like bringing manpower.” The sergeant motioned curtly to the northwest. “2nd Squad is trying to get over to that other ridge before the enemy does. I want you to join them.”
Trev looked over and grimaced. The spine of the ridge they were on ran roughly northwest-to-southeast, with the peak overlooking the mouth of Highway 31's canyon. A short way to the north was another ridge running more or less west-to-east that bisected the one they were on, on the other side of which lay Cedar Creek Canyon. That was the ridge Davis wanted him to get to, meaning he'd have to jog along this spine to reach that ridge and climb down onto it, then follow it to a spot where he could help Williams and his squad defend that entire slope.
Between the two ridges lay a roughly V-shaped valley they needed to defend, choked with scrub oak and with steep rocky slopes. The blockheads wouldn't have an easy time covering that ground, but at the same time it was a lot of ground to defend. Which was what Davis and his people were having a problem with, especially since they also had to cover their backs, ie the slope leading down into the canyon Trev's squad was guarding.
If he'd known from the beginning where Davis wanted him he'd have taken the path from the emplacement back to main camp and followed the trail to Cedar Creek Canyon. There were a few spots along it he could've climbed up onto the ridge from, and the entire trip would've taken half the time. But he was where he was, and Davis wanted him somewhere else.
“Let's go,” he said to Tom and Mason. The two nodded and fell into line behind him as he trotted along the rocky, precarious spine, weaving around or through stands of trees. They passed a few clusters of Marines firing down into the valley, who ignored their passage other than a quick shout to confirm they were friendlies.
The run wasn't exactly easy, but at least it was mostly downhill. Although in the dark that wasn't completely a good thing; a greater danger than getting winded was twisting an ankle on the treacherous ground, and that kept Trev from moving as fast as he would've liked.
Not to mention that even though his night vision was fairly high quality, it was still sometimes hard to judge the ground he ran across. At the speed he was going he didn't always recognize things in time, so he stumbled more than once on dips he thought were juts, and vice versa. At least his two squad mates were watching him and avoiding the same obstacles; as long as he didn't break his neck, they probably wouldn't either.
The climb down to the lower ridge was the trickiest part. The ground wasn't any more treacherous, but it was steeper, and a thick stand of evergreens began halfway down that they'd have to find a way through.
Halfway down an immense rumbling blast to their left made them all drop into a protective crouch. Trev had to squint as a bright light momentarily blinded his night vision, and he lifted his goggles to watch the tail end of the explosion.
“Vernon blew it,” Tom said in a slightly loud voice. With the racket of collapsing rock there was no danger of an enemy overhearing, and actually Trev barely heard him from three feet away.
He nodded. If the former sheriff had taken out the Cedar Creek road, that meant the only way left into the mountains in this area was through Aspen Hill Canyon. Assuming Lewis and the others weren't facing their own attack and hadn't been forced to detonate as well.
It wasn't a terrible loss, since their trucks could still transport supplies and reinforcements behind the lines, along a spiderweb of small mountain roads. But it meant they were close to being as trapped in the mountains as the blockheads were barred from reaching them, and if they did have a reason to bring their trucks into the valley they couldn't do it. At least not without the same painstaking clearing and repairs they were depending on to slow the blockheads, in case they ever broke through. But even then they'd have to do it on foot.
At the moment he hardly cared. It meant the the blockheads would have that much harder of a time in tonight's attack, and he was all for that. Motioning to his squad mates, he straightened and continued picking his way down the treacherous slope.
Williams had a Marine waiting for them just inside the stand of trees, his demolitions specialist Graham. “So you're what we get?” the man grumbled.
“We've got night vision and explosives,” Trev replied.
“Fair enough.” Graham gestured for them to follow and led on into the trees. “Come on. The blockheads are pushing up Cedar Creek Canyon and Vernon's boys are making them
pay big time. Our job is to eliminate anyone who gets close to us on this range, and from the looks of things we've got our work cut out for us. You're with me.”
“Where do you want us?” Tom asked.
“Just beyond these trees, actually. We'll probably see the least action here, but if anyone does reach us it's important we play mop-up. Think of us as the last line of defense, and if anyone gets past us they'll be in a position to cause some serious problems.”
The Marine motioned to the south. “We'll mostly be worrying about the southern slope of this ridge. Vernon's boys are stationed lower down Cedar Creek Canyon, and Williams isn't letting anyone past on the northern slope. I'd be flabbergasted if a blockhead managed to reach us on that side.”
“So we should probably keep half an eye on it just in case,” Trev said.
Graham snorted. “I like the way you think.” He sped up a bit. “Come on. If you've got night vision we might as well take advantage of it. Time's a-wastin'.”
Trev hurried to catch up, still leading his squad mates. He had to duck branches just about every step, some whipping back at him as Graham shoved them aside, not a care for anyone following behind. But at least the Marine had found a decent path through the trees.
Before too long they reached a crudely dug out emplacement where they could hide behind stacked deadfall. Graham was already peeking over the top when they arrived, and he cursed. “1st Squad missed some people on their side,” he hissed, pointing across to near the bottom of the opposite slope of the V-shaped valley. “Glad you guys showed up when you did.”
Trev crouched beside him and peeked over, using his scope to follow the man's pointing finger. Sure enough there were half a dozen blockheads creeping from cover, seemingly beyond the point of intermittent gunfire he heard to the east and southeast. They were nearly to the point where the two ridges met at the bottom, an area blanketed by a dense thicket of scrub oak leading almost all the way up to the top.
