Threat Ascendant

by Brian M. Switzer

  He drew a large rectangle where the line ended. "Now, as we come down the hill, we’ll fan out to here. Once everybody's made it down, 250 fighters will face each of the first four caves, but over here on the opposite side so they can't shoot at us from the entrance. It’ll be clear pretty quickly if they abandoned the place are not. If we don't see anyone and were not drawing fire, we’ll send fifty minions into each cave. If we don’t hear any gunfire, the game’s over and we win. If we do, we’ll attack without mercy. And we win.

  “Do this right and we’ll gain an impenetrable foothold that will make us the unquestioned big swinging dicks in the area. We’ll be rolling in power, respect, and pussy.” He winked at a thick woman with tattoos up and down each arm. “Thick veiny cock for you ladies. Fuck it up and you answer to Kayla. It’s that simple, folks.”

  37

  * * *

  An hour before dawn on the day before the deadline, four men rode out of the quarry on horseback.

  The previous day, Will and the Council sat down with Justin and his maps and determined no matter what route the attackers took, they would have to pass by one of four landmarks to reach The Underground. They picked four volunteers to observe the landmarks from a distance. At the first sign of the enemy, they were to ride for home like the hounds of hell were on their heels.

  Jobe Madison won the lottery. He hunkered down on the overpass above Central Avenue West of town. From that vantage point, he could tell if the invaders marched from the west on 96 Highway, from the south on I-49, or through town on Baker Boulevard.

  He heard the marchers and spotted their dust cloud five minutes before they crested a hill southwest of town on 49. From his perch above the highway, he witnessed a steady stream of creeper tracking the noise and commotion and shuffling to meet the troops.

  He hurried to get off the bridge and into the nearby woods before they crested the hill and noticed him. His orders were to act natural if seen. If they pursued him he wasn't supposed to run. Jiri created a backstory for each of the scouts to use if questioned that made them appear to be random guys out scavenging. If they discovered the community had sent out scouts, they would know the quarry wasn’t deserted.

  Fortunately, the story was unneeded. Jobe found his mare where he left her, tied to a budding maple twenty-five feet into the woods. Panting with exertion, he rode hard for home to let them know the attack was coming.

  38

  * * *

  Magnus sat easy and relaxed in the saddle, controlling his horse as it whinnied and high-stepped next to Kayla's Jeep. The dead were thicker than anyone anticipated and the odor of blood in the air upset the big bay. He cast a glance around, then turned to the Queen. "Less than a mile to go now, ma’am. Down the hill, across a set of railroad tracks, up another hill, and we are there." The leading wave of the attackers had turned the corner onto Civil War Road.

  "Magnus, I lived in Carthage my whole life. I've driven this road a thousand times. Shit, we partied down in that quarry when I was in high school. I don't need you to tell me the way."

  "Then maybe you need me to tell you to hang back and let us go in first to make sure it's safe."

  Kayla gestured at the phalanx of men in blue uniforms around her. "I have my guard to keep me safe, Magnus. It's your job to win any battle that might occur. And to find Coy if he’s still there."

  Magnus lifted his hat and scratched his head. "Do you think the kid is still around?"

  She fixed him with a hungry smile. "In my dreams, he's convinced everyone else to save themselves and go. But he's stayed behind, waiting for me."

  Magnus struggled to keep his horse next to the Jeep. "You are really — whoa, whoa, whoa, dammit," he yanked the reins hard against the gelding’s effort to move away from the automobile — "really smitten with," the bay tossed his head from side to side and reared up on his rear feet. After a brief struggle, Magnus settled it down. "Smitten with this kid." He pulled the foot closest to the Jeep from the stirrup and kicked the rear quarter panel with a resounding blow.

  The driver stared at him, startled.

  "Hey, fucko! Do you want to stop a minute so I can have a conversation?" He said in an ominous tone.

  The driver slowed to a stop.

  Kayla turned her head and checked on the long line of followers, then glared at Magnus. "Now look, you arrogant baboon. You brought the whole line to a halt.”

  "As I kept trying to ask, you're really smitten with this kid, aren't you?"

  She gave him a withering stare. "Tell me you didn't bring my army to a stop so you could cross-examine me about my love life."

  "Only because I’m curious whether I'm about to risk my men's lives to help you gain territory or the play dirty sex games with the flavor of the month."

  She sniffed. "Jealous much?"

  "Not in the least ma'am, and I think you know that. But if it is the flavor of the month, just say so. We’ll call this whole thing off and I'll grab the kid and bring him to you. I did it once and I can do it again."

  She gave her driver a baleful glance. "If you ever tell a soul about this conversation, I'll have you flogged and fed to the demons." She turned her attention back to Magnus without awaiting an answer. "This is about advancing my Queendom and nothing more. The boy intrigued me enough that I would like to see him again, if possible. Now- is there anything else?"

  "No ma'am."

  "May we resume before the infernal demons kill us all?"

  He kicked the quarter panel a second time. The stricken driver, who was staring straight ahead and sweating nervously, jumped again.

  "What are you waiting for? Get this shit-show going."

  Row by row, the marchers resumed their trek to the quarry.

  39

  * * *

  Magnus gave the pair of towers guarding the entrance road to the quarry a baleful look. He’d examined the wooden structures at length through a rifle scope and they appeared deserted. But appearances could be deceiving. The tunnel-dwellers might have shooters inside, hiding out of sight below the windows. The buildings could be booby-trapped. It had even occurred to him that they were stuffed with biters that would spill out on his troops as they passed, though he kept that thought to himself. It was damned unlikely the ravenous meat sacks were hunkered down, quietly waiting to drop on his fighters.

  He snorted and jerked his head back and forth to clear his mind of nonsense. He pulled thirty men out of line and ordered them to split into two units and search the towers for enemy troops, trip wires, deadfalls, and any other signs of danger.

  The fighters advanced with caution. Magnus watched, squeezing the reins until his knuckles turned white and resisting the urge to open fire on his own men. The troops behind him shifted with unease and fear and muttered dark thoughts to one another. They hated standing still in the open air, sitting ducks if the enemy attacked. At the rear of the column, the battle raged on between his men and the dead. The last report from that fighting said the living had gained the advantage; as the column left town, the number of new biters they attracted fell almost to none. But about 200 of the bastards remained back there, and fighting them off had cost him fifty men.

  The tunnel-dwellers only have a few guns and not much ammo… if the fuckers are even there, he told himself. That had almost become a mantra to him; he replayed it in his mind repeatedly.

  And thank God for that. This thing had become such a disorganized and undisciplined clusterfuck that a coordinated and well-armed opposition with decent numbers would mow them down like unwanted crabgrass on a suburban front lawn. Once he realized Kayla was unshakable in her desire to mount the assault with an overwhelming number of troops, he’d did everything possible to get out in front of the idea and make it seem his own. But a battle of that type wasn’t the best use of his considerable abilities.

  He wasn't a leader of thousands. His leadership methods
were simple- do well and you got drugs, pussy, or whatever your heart desired; do poorly and you got a blade in your liver or two bullets in the back of your skull. An easy concept to convey to a team of ten or twenty, it was an impossible way to motivate a large group. He couldn’t line up enough poontang for 1000 men. And he couldn't very well order half the troops to shoot the other half. No, his methods that worked so well with small groups just couldn’t be applied to a teeming mass.

  And besides, he was no fucking general. What did he know about military maneuvers? The little he had gleaned from watching movies, that's what. Flanking the opponent was good; getting flanked was bad. But he wasn't sure what flanking meant, and he had nary an idea how to flank the enemy. You wanted to move the line or hold the line, that was another thing. That was an easy idea to grasp, but it didn’t apply to this situation. Oh, and you never wanted the enemy to cut your supply line. He'd learned that from the movies over the years, but now it brought up a whole other host of problems. What were these poor slobs behind him supposed to eat tonight? In the morning? Lunchtime tomorrow? They had plenty of food, but it was all a five-mile walk to the south. Did Kayla intend to conquer her new domain this afternoon, then march everyone back home for supper? Not long after the fighting ended, or not long after they reached the bottom of this pit if there was no fighting, the troops would want to eat and drink. The tunnel-dwellers should have food on hand, if they hadn't fled and taken it all with them. Even then, he doubted they had enough stored to feed 1000 for a few days.

  No, this invasion isn’t how he would have handled taking control of the quarry. Left to solve the problem on his own, Magnus would pick ten or twelve of his best and deadliest. They would slip in late at night- 4:00, 4:30, when even the insomniacs have drifted off. They would come in with knives and do their wet work as quietly as possible, only switching to guns once their victims detected their presence.

  The fighters began to traipse back from the towers, jolting him out of his ruminations. They gave the okay sign and he gathered up his crew leaders to receive their instructions. The search teams resumed their places in the columns, Kayla's Jeep and the support vehicles started up, and the trek to the bottom of the pit resumed.

  Magnus sighed. Not the way he would've gone about it, but his job now was to deal himself the best hand out of the cards in play. After all, he was leading almost 1000 fighters into a battle with 200 people that were essentially unarmed, or into an empty quarry. Pretty hard to fuck that up.

  40

  * * *

  "Christ Jesus, Danny! If you don't quit shaking your leg, I will cut it off with a rusty bayonet!" Tara glared at him from her seat on the other side of a cramped and wobbly four-person table they shared with Coy and Tess. He had been tapping his toe rapidly on the tunnel floor and the resulting vibration caused the whole table to shake.

  He sneered at Tara. "Bullshit. You don't even own a bayonet."

  "Keep it up and get on my last nerve- I'll go out and find one just so I can use on you."

  "Damn, shoot me for being a little nervous. I'm sorry, I've never been in a war before."

  Coy leaned back in the chair to his right, sharpening his knife. "We’ve been at war for over a year now, Bubba."

  "Yeah, against the creepers. That's different than taking on men."

  Coy shrugged his shoulders. "Creepers, looters, bad guys, people who want what's ours. We beat them all."

  Danny lapsed into a morose silence and concentrated on not shaking his leg. It was late morning on deadline day, and the whole community, save for a few scouts, guards and childcare workers, had gathered in the dining room to await word on the attack. The air in the cavern was grim and thick with tension, and Tara wasn't the only person to have a quick outburst. Even Tess, usually so gentle and carefree, was on edge.

  But not Coy. Danny eyed his friend. The fight of their lives was right around the corner, and Coy was the picture of serenity. Kicked back in his chair, sharpening a knife and cleaning his weapons like a man without a care in the world. Danny glowered at him. "You're an asshole."

  Coy didn't even raise his head- he just smiled a little Mona Lisa smile and ran the edge of his blade over a whetstone. "Me? What'd I do?"

  "You're too calm. Perfect little Coy never worries about anything. Can't you at least act concerned, like the rest of us?"

  "Nah. We're going to win, so there's no use getting worked up about it. Everybody should just relax, do their job, and be as careful as they can so we don't lose anybody."

  Danny squinted at him. "Hold up. How do you know we'll win? What are you, guaranteeing victory now?"

  Tara regarded him with suspicion. "Yeah. What makes you so sure?"

  "I've spent time with their boss lady, remember?"

  Danny raised his eyebrows and held his palms up in a ‘what?’ gesture. "Come on boy, quit speaking in riddles. What's that got to do with anything?"

  "While I was there I learned she's crazy, her number one guy only looks out for himself, and her people are afraid of her. Their biggest fear is catching her eye at the wrong time, when she’s upset or wanting to make an object lesson out of someone, and getting killed. Not a good recipe for a fighting force, I don't care how big. One thing I noticed after they grabbed me… was…" He trailed off and stared at the dining room entrance.

  Conversations all over the room grounded to a halt as Jobe entered. He looked around, saw Will, and trotted over to him. The two spoke quietly for a minute. Will patted him on the back and walked to the front of the room.

  He paused a moment as if he didn’t already have the undivided attention of every member of the community. He took a breath, tugged on his shirt collar, and spoke. "They're coming. Depending on how fast they travel, they should be here in two to four hours.

  "I don't have a big speech. Everybody knows what they're supposed to do. This is our home, and nobody's taking it from us. We didn't ask for what's about to happen. They walked across town with guns to take what is ours. That was their mistake. Our mistake would be to take pity on them or to allow your humanity to get in the way of what needs done.

  "We need to make a statement. We need to conduct ourselves as if every other bunch of assholes who someday might decide they want what is ours is watching. If we are ruthless and brutal in the defense of our home, other groups will know it and leave us alone. If it gets hard and you show mercy they will know that, too, and see it as weakness. And we’ll do this again in six months or a year with some other bunch of assholes.

  "Help each other. Keep an eye on your neighbor. Protect your friends and family. Defend what is yours.

  "Follow the plan. Do your job as perfect as you are able, with love for your neighbors in your heart and a mind committed to defending your home. We didn't start this. But now we put a stop to it."

  41

  * * *

  For the final quarter-mile of the march, Magnus climbed off his horse and into the back seat of Kayla’s Jeep. As it eased down the hill and around the curve to the bottom of the pit, he took one final shot at trying to convince her to stay back.

  "Just until we get a feel for the situation, ma'am," he pleaded. "Hang back, and when I know it's deserted or when we've subdued any resistance, then you enter- the Conquering Queen."

  Kayla half-turned in her seat, reached back, and patted his forearm. "If you'll remember, I didn't even want to be on this trip. You and Linda and that gang of idiots that call themselves my advisors all recommended that I come along. 'They need to see you at the head of the army and to know they are fighting for their Queen.' Those are your words, my friend. And you did a top-notch job of convincing me. Now sit back and let me lead my army onto the battlefield as advised."

  He gave a resigned sigh and fell back in the seat. Couldn’t really argue with that logic. There was no time to argue, anyway. They started across the bottom of a 300-foot-deep basin with shafts twenty-feet high and thirty feet wide drill
ed into the bluff wall on two of the sides. Concrete blocks as big as the Jeep lined one side of the pit and littered the basin floor; three sets of railroad tracks ran alongside the east wall.

  The driver inched the SUV a quarter of the way across the bottom, running right down the middle of the basin. The troops behind them flooded the back side of the quarry, the side with a low retaining wall rather than a bluff. That put them across the pit from the entrances to the tunnels.

  As they drove he examined the surroundings but saw no people or signs of life. Kayla sat in the passenger seat, ramrod straight and regal. She could do things to blue jeans and simple blouse that made them look like exquisite high-end clothing.

  His heart had been jackhammering in his chest; it returned to normal and his unease lifted. If he was in charge of defending the quarry he would have concentrated gunfire on the attackers as they entered the basin floor. Pile as many bodies as he could right there, making it hard to get around and perhaps convincing people still coming down the hill they should flee. And he sure would have shot at the opposition leader as she sat unarmed and plainly visible in a slow-moving vehicle.

  He reached outside the Jeep and grabbed the nearest blue suit he could see. He pulled the guard to him by the front of his shirt and snarled. "You fucking guys do your job. Surround your Queen! Protect her!" His actions galvanized the guards. Their captain barked out a series of orders and in a few short seconds the detail formed a protective circle around the SUV. The captain turned and extended a brief salute of thanks in Magnus's direction. He flipped the captain the bird in return.

  He gave the quarry an inspection. An assortment of support vehicles lined up behind the Jeep, the truck that pulled the trailer holding the mortar among them. Magnus snapped his fingers at a young man on the big cannon's crew. "Get that thing offloaded and ready for use," he ordered.