The Reckoning - 02

by D. A. Roberts

  I felt a series of hits across my rucksack and the back of my armor. They hurt, but I could tell that they hadn’t gotten through. Once I was up, I continued on and leapt off the other side. I rolled as I hit the ground and turned to cover the First Sergeant. I could see him silhouetted against the light of the camp as he started to come over. Then I heard him grunt as gunshots struck him from behind. He pitched over the edge and just barely avoided landing on his head. I moved to check him as he tried to sit up.

  Above us, I could hear the Freemen attempting to climb the fence. Then I heard something I’d been dreading, the sound of the Boss’ voice up close. He was organizing his men for a counter attack. I only hoped that he’d have no idea just how many of us there were. If he knew that there were only a few of us, he’d throw everything he had at us. We already had two wounded and couldn’t afford a sustained firefight.

  I pulled the First Sergeant to a sitting position and checked him over. He didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere on the head or torso.

  “Where are you hit?” I asked him, shaking him slightly.

  “Armor stopped the worst of it,” he replied. “I took a couple hits to the legs. I can’t walk.”

  “Then we’ll carry you,” I replied.

  Southard and McDonald were already shouldering Jackson. Spec-4 and I grabbed the First Sergeant by the arms and yanked him to his feet. Then we slung one of his arms over each of us and headed down the trail. I yanked a grenade free from my pack, pulled the pin and casually tossed it over the fence.

  “What the fuck was that?” called one of the Freemen.

  “Grenade!” bellowed the Boss.

  I heard and felt the CRUMP of the grenade detonation, followed by screams of the wounded. I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that I’d done extensive damage to several of them. Beyond the fence, I could see the glow from the fire that was spreading through the burning buildings. Ahead of us in the darkness, I could see Southard and McDonald carrying Jackson. I was about to call out to them when gunfire erupted from the top of the wall.

  Several of the Freemen had reached the top and were unloading their weapons at their backs. I could see all three of them go down under the barrage of automatic weapons fire. Spec-4 and I turned and opened up on the top of the wall. I flipped my selector switch to automatic and sprayed the crowd. I saw several of them go over backwards off of the wall, but the rest of them dove for cover.

  As we headed towards our fallen comrades, Spec-4 hit the upper part of the wall with a round from her M-203. The explosion shook the wall and opened about a six foot gap in it. I tossed another grenade into the gap and turned back to the trail. The detonation of the grenade pierced the night as we closed the distance. Southard was getting to his feet as we arrived.

  “How bad are you hit?” I yelled as we approached.

  “Two in the shoulder,” he replied. “Jackson’s dead. McDonald took one to the ass cheek.”

  “Help him to his feet and get the fuck out of here,” I snapped. “We’ll bring the First Sergeant and cover you.”

  Behind us, we could hear the Boss trying to organize a pursuit. He was bellowing for anyone with a weapon to grab a flashlight and come with him. Southard ignored his shoulder wound and took part of McDonald’s weight on the other one. Then they headed off as fast as they could go.

  A fresh round of gunfire erupted behind us as flashlights began sweeping the trees around us. Spec-4 fired into the lights and I heard several screams. The First Sergeant couldn’t put any weight on his legs, so we were effectively carrying him. We took turns firing over our shoulder as we climbed the long hill that led away from the back of the Freemen compound. We had so far managed to discourage active pursuit by firing into the lights every time they tried to follow us.

  I could still see the fires when we reached the top of the hill. We were almost a quarter of a mile from the camp and still had about a mile to go before we reached the Humvees. I couldn’t see any signs of pursuit on the trail and was about to say something to Spec-4 when a figure emerged from the shadows. It was only one person, but he had an M-16 pointed directly at us. It was the Boss.

  “Well, Sheriff,” he said, leeringly, “looks like we will have the pleasure of your company, once more. Now drop your weapons.”

  He had the drop on us. Neither Spec-4 nor I had our weapon in position to shoot him before he could cut all three of us down. Having experienced first hand the pleasure of his hospitality, I decided right then that I’d rather die here than return. Spec-4 gave me a look that said the same thing. Neither of us would go back, willingly.

  “Drop your weapons or I’ll kill you all where you stand,” said the Boss, calmly.

  “Bravo 2-8, do you copy, over,” said the First Sergeant.

  “What are you doing?” demanded the Boss.

  Through my earpiece, I could hear the reply. Since the Boss wasn’t wearing one of our radios, he had no idea who the First Sergeant was talking to.

  “This is Bravo 2-8, go ahead,” came the reply.

  “Bravo 2-8, this is Papa Bear,” said the First Sergeant. “Target coordinates at Grid November Sierra 26345461. Danger close[29], over.”

  “Papa Bear,” said the voice on the radio. “Confirm November Sierra 26345461.”

  “Confirmed,” replied the First Sergeant.

  “What the hell are you doing?” demanded the Boss.

  “Copy, Papa Bear,” said the voice. “Fire mission is a go. Pop smoke[30], Papa Bear. The rain is coming.”

  “Bring the rain!” I said, glancing at the sky.

  “Tell me what you’re doing or I’ll fucking kill you!” shouted the Boss.

  First Sergeant Gregory lifted his head and glared at the Boss.

  “You’ll find out any second now,” replied the First Sergeant, acidly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded the Boss.

  As if on cue, we all began to hear the roaring sound of something travelling fast at high altitude. Instantly, you could tell that they were getting closer by the second. The Boss looked at us with horror on his face. He opened his mouth to say something when the first wave hit. The heavy ordinance struck directly in the middle of the Freeman camp. The explosions shook the ground and threw us all off of our feet.

  The Boss flew through the air and landed about ten feet away from us. Explosions rocked the compound six times before the ground stopped shaking. The fireball was rolling skyward and the roar of the explosions was rolling away from us in every direction. I felt like I’d opened the door to a blast furnace as the wave of heat passed over us. Spec-4 rolled to her knees and grabbed the Boss’ M-16 before he had a chance to recover.

  I lunged forward and dove on top of him. He had a pistol in his belt, so I stripped him of it and tossed it aside. While I was doing that, he struck me twice in the left ear. I instantly heard the ringing and felt something wet running down my neck. He’d most likely popped my eardrum. I was disoriented and a little dizzy.

  With a sudden shove, the Boss threw me off of him and pulled a large knife out from behind him. Then he flipped the knife over in his hand so that the blade was curled back along his forearm. As I got shakily to my feet, he came at me in blur. Before I could react, he sliced a deep gash along my face, just below my left eye. I could feel the blood running freely down my face. I shook my head to clear it, and he pressed his advantage.

  In a blinding series of blows, he cut me several times on the arms as I tried to fend him off. With a quick reverse of direction, he stabbed me in the right shoulder. The blade sank to the hilt through the body armor. There isn’t a trauma plate over the shoulders and it met with little resistance from the Kevlar weave.

  Before he could pull the blade out, I drove my left fist into his testicles with enough force to lift him off of the ground. He screamed like a twelve year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert and fell to his knees. He released his hold on the knife as he fell. Grabbing the handle, I started pulling the slender blade from the meat
of my shoulder. It passed through the muscle, missing the bone. It was an ugly flesh-wound, but a flesh-wound none-the-less.

  I could feel the blood pouring down my arm as I got to my feet. Grabbing a handful of his hair, I pulled his face up to look into my eyes. I’m not sure what he saw in my eyes, but his flew open wide. I smashed him in the face three times with my left fist, crushing his nose and knocking out several teeth. I probably would have beat him to death had he not suddenly lunged out and drove his fist into the side of my knee.

  I groaned in pain as I fell to the ground. Spec-4 fired a shot at the Boss, but he dove to the side, rolling behind some bushes making a clear shot impossible.

  “He’s mine,” I groaned, forcing myself to my feet.

  Spec-4 just looked at me and nodded. She understood why I needed to do this. No words needed to be spoken. This was the man responsible for my torture and suffering. I needed to do this, myself.

  Breaking cover, the Boss ran for the burning wreckage that was his compound. I guess he was running to find survivors or more weapons. We’ll never know why he chose to run into the flames. He stopped about fifty yards away and turned to look at me.

  “You son of a bitch!” he screamed. “You’ve destroyed it all!”

  “You started this fight,” I answered. “You brought it to us!”

  I stood up, the rage taking over. With a sudden scream, I drew the old Army Colt and fired. I shot out of instinct, not truly aiming at the target. I just drew and fired. I was stunned when the shot struck him in the stomach and threw him over backwards. He hit the ground, holding his wound and screaming. I stumbled down the hill to check him. He was gut shot and bleeding heavily. The hollow point slug from the Colt had done a massive amount of damage.

  “I can’t feel my legs,” he whined at me, holding his hand out like he expected me to help him.

  “Now it’s over,” I said, still aiming the gun at him.

  “Don’t kill me,” he pleaded.

  “Now that’s ironic,” I said, mockingly. “You didn’t show me an ounce of mercy, yet now you beg for it.”

  “Don’t kill me,” he repeated, whimpering.

  “I won’t finish you,” I said. “You can lay here and bleed. Watch the skies, asshole! You won’t be riding the cold wind to Valhalla. It’s going to be a lot warmer where you’re going.”

  I turned and headed back up the hill as fast as I could go. I was losing quite a bit of blood and my knee was killing me. When I reached the top of the hill, I looked over at the First Sergeant and gave him a nod.

  “Bravo 2-8,” said the First Sergeant, “Fire for effect! We are Danger Close. Over!”

  “Copy, Papa Bear,” said Bravo 2-8. “Suggest you pop smoke. Fire mission is a go.”

  “We gotta get the hell out of here!” yelled the First Sergeant. “They’re about to shell the shit out of this place!”

  We could hear the incoming artillery rounds and I knew we only had seconds before the second wave struck. Grabbing the First Sergeant, we quickly made our way over the hill. This time, when the ground shook we were able to keep on our feet. I counted over sixty shells striking the target. With that kind of firepower raining down from the sky like bolts from the heavens, I knew that there would be nothing left of the Freemen compound or anyone in it. Other than the smoking crater, it would be as if they never existed.

  We walked in silence back to the Humvees. Southard and McDonald were already there and had applied first aid to their wounds. We determined that the First Sergeant wasn’t going to bleed out and put pressure bandages on his wounds until we could get him back to Maddie. Only Spec-4 and I were in any shape to drive. No one was going to be able to man the turrets. We were going to have to hope for a quiet ride home.

  “Grant,” called the First Sergeant, as I started to shut the door.

  “Yeah, Top,” I said, walking back over to him.

  He reached into his cargo pocket and took out his Ranger beret and held it out to me. I took it from him and held it in my hand, not sure why he was handing it to me.

  “What’s this for?” I asked, looking at the Ranger flash on the front.

  “Take it,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “I think I’m ready for that drink, now,” he said, holding out his hand.

  I shook it and smiled.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, sitting up in the seat.

  “Let’s go home,” I said, and headed for my Humvee.

  Author’s Bio: D.A. Roberts

  D.A. Roberts was born in the small town of Lebanon, Missouri. Growing up on the farm gave him plenty of opportunities to cultivate a fertile imagination. Encouraged by his mother, he dreamed of one day becoming a famous writer. An avid reader, D.A. enjoys reading more than watching television.

  A diverse career path has given him a unique view of the world. From soldier to factory worker, from bouncer to lab technician, and from Security Officer to Corrections Officer. Having worn many different hats evolves a very different perspective. He draws on all of these experiences to bring his writing to life on a very human level.

  He married Annette in the summer of 1993 and has been happily married, ever since. Three teenage sons keep them both busy. Nathan, Nic and Noah are his pride and joy. They have an English Mastiff named Xander, who is a big part of their lives.

  D.A. loves to camp, hunt, fish, hike and Geocache. He also enjoys old-school pen and paper role-playing games. When not writing or on duty as a Corrections Officer, he enjoys spending time with his family. A good cup of coffee, a warm fire and a good book are his guilty pleasures.

  Find D.A. on Facebook at: DARobertsAuthor

  Or on Twitter at: @DARobertsAuthor

  Coming Soon!

  Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing

  After surviving the Freemen, Wylie and the others discover that the damage they took during the fight might have been far more extensive than they knew. With structural problems looming and the lack of arable land, they reach a dreaded decision. They must abandon the Underground.

  Looking for a place that is not only defensible but provides the opportunity for long-term survival, they must set out on a dangerous journey to scout a new location. Strange new dangers await them, as they find what they thought was the perfect location. A terrifying new type of zombie stalks the valley where they want to make their home. A zombie that owns the night.

  The journey to make their new home safe will take them to the distant shores of Lake of the Ozarks and through the zombie infested streets of Lebanon, Missouri. Wylie soon learns that people he thought were enemies can become friends…and friends can become enemies. A lesson that will cost them dearly.

  Their journey to discover the origin of the new undead will take them back to the lake and to a shocking conclusion. Lives will change forever as they must accomplish the impossible in order to secure their new home. The realization that not all of them will survive to see their new community grow will take its toll on them. The safety of their new home will be purchased with blood.

  Who will make The Crossing?

  * * *

  [1] Go A Viking: The Vikings got their name from the phrase “Go a Viking” which meant to go hunting or raiding.

  [2] Night Vision Gear

  [3] Advanced Combat Optical Gunsight.

  [4] Squad Automatic Weapon.

  [5] Fuel-Air Bombs or Thermobaric Weapons are extremely powerful bombs capable of producing yields higher than most conventional weapons up to but not including Nuclear Devices.

  [6] Chuck-holes are small locked doors in the door of cells. Inmates are served meals and other items through them when it is too dangerous to risk direct contact.

  [7] Spiritual leader in the Asatru religion.

  [8] SERE is the military’s Survival Evasion Resistance and Escape school.

  [9] Surface to Air Missile

  [10] US
Army’s Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck

  [11] Military Occupational Specialty or Job in the Military

  [12] Oleoresin Capsicum or Pepper Spray.

  [13] Lateral Vascular Neck Restraint

  [14] Rocket Propelled Grenade

  [15] Military Police

  [16] Forward Observation Base

  [17] 5th Ranger Battalion

  [18] Positioned Outside Military Control United States. These relics from the cold war were placed all over US and Allied countries to resupply combat forces in the event of a major conflict. These caches contained weapons, ammo, equipment, explosives, medical supplies and in some cases, vehicles.

  [19] Military Occupational Specialty. Basically, your job in the military.

  [20] Forward Observers call in artillery strikes and guide the shots to the target.

  [21] E-6 or Enlisted Grade 6 is a Staff Sergeant.

  [22] Operational Security in military slang.

  [23] Full Battle-rattle. Military slang for a full set of combat gear.

  [24] Area of Operations

  [25] CQB: Close Quarters Battle

  [26] F/O is a Forward Observer.

  [27] Military Slang for Artillery.

  [28] Direct Action Response Kit or DARK is an emergency first aid kid with lifesaving gear produced by Dark Angel Medical. It is designed for combat related injuries.

  [29] Danger Close is military slang letting the artillery crew know that the soldiers calling in the strike were less than 600 meters from the target.

  [30] Pop Smoke. More military slang. It can mean to literally drop a smoke grenade, but in this instance it means to get out of the area as soon as possible.