Lucas didn’t respond. He goaded Tango into the brush, the trail more defined after their prior trek with the horses that morning. Hayden reluctantly followed with the men, a few of them grumbling at the rear. Lucas focused on making it up the track, his ears still ringing from the gun battle at the subterranean base only a few hours earlier.
They were almost to the clearing near the base main entry when Tango drew up short with a snort. Lucas twisted to see what had spooked him and ducked when an assault rifle barked from his right. The leaves near Lucas shredded from rounds whistling past him, and he spurred Tango to a gallop. More shooting followed, and he pulled Tango to a stop in a grove of trees, leaping from the saddle in a fluid motion and landing on his feet, M4 in hand.
Bullets snapped around him. He crouched behind a trunk, letting the conifer take the hits while he searched for the source of the gunfire. He spotted movement about seventy yards away and fired several three-round bursts in that direction, hating to waste ammo firing blind. Answering shots enabled him to better target his volleys, and he loosed the rest of his magazine at where the shooter was hiding, saturating the area with slugs.
Hayden’s men were now also taking fire; they’d followed Lucas’s lead and bolted from the trail. Lucas glanced over to his left at where the sheriff’s rifle was chattering and spied two of his men behind a downed tree, shooting at shadows, one of them squeezing the trigger of his M16 on full auto, his eyes clenched shut.
Lucas shook his head in frustration and slapped a fresh magazine into place. The sheriff’s A team looked to be about as competent as he’d proven to be, which could wind up getting most of them killed. Lucas noted that the gunman he’d targeted had stopped firing, signaling a hit if not a kill. He listened, trying to isolate how many enemy guns were still in play, and identified four, spread out as he would have directed had he been in charge of the ambush.
A scream sounded from one of Hayden’s men after a particularly furious barrage from the attackers. Lucas blinked away a bead of perspiration and exhaled in frustration. They were pinned down, and unless he was able to gain some sort of advantage, they’d lose more men before this was over. He retreated further into the trees, pulling Tango after him, the horse’s pupils wild from the cacophony of the battle. When they had put another fifty yards between themselves and the fight, he tied Tango to a tree and smoothed his mane.
“Easy, boy. I’ll be back for you. Just breathe.”
Lucas took off at a jog, ignoring the branches tearing at his clothes as he powered through the brush, intent on maintaining his bearings as he attempted to flank the attackers. He suspected it was the surviving Chinese, and if he was correct, they had abundant ammunition to continue the onslaught. That meant Lucas would have to risk his neck for the second time that day against the same adversaries – and these were the ones who’d been smart enough to escape his earlier best efforts.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, and reflexively checked the magazines in his vest.
If he were able to circle around the Chinese, he had the additional worry of Hayden’s men shooting him – a real risk, judging by their performance so far. He pushed the morose thought from his mind and concentrated on skirting the firefight, slowing as he neared the Chinese positions.
An assault rifle rattled from no more than forty yards to his left, and he swept the area with the barrel of his M4, peering through the scope at leaves that appeared as large as his hand through the magnification. He spotted black hair and the Armalite stock of a rifle, and thumbed the fire selector to single shot as he centered the man’s head in the crosshairs.
The M4 barely recoiled and the man’s head whipped to the side. The accompanying spray of blood on the green brush gave all the confirmation of the kill Lucas needed. He was already in motion by the time the shooter tumbled over, focused on acquiring his next target before the gunmen realized they were caught in a crossfire. Lucas moved slowly, staying low to the ground to present as small a target as possible. The shooting from both sides continued with unabated fury. The Chinese guns roared on full auto; as Lucas had suspected, ammo was not a concern.
One of Hayden’s men got lucky with a volley, and another of the Chinese guns fell silent. The two remaining attackers more than made up for the lull with renewed thirty-round onslaughts, the shooters obviously hoping to make up with intensity what they lacked in numbers. Lucas was able to identify the location of the nearest and crept toward the gunman, pausing when the shooter did to change magazines.
The gunfire resumed, and Lucas closed on the man’s position behind a large pine tree. The Chinese must have sensed Lucas’s approach, because he stopped mid-magazine and swung his weapon toward Lucas with a cry.
A three-round burst from Lucas’s M4 stitched the gunman’s torso as he fired, his aim off, the rounds going wide. Lucas dove to the side and fired again as he hit the ground, missing with all but his last bullet, which hit the gunman in his thigh. The man collapsed, dropping his rifle, and Lucas lay still, slowing his breathing.
There was now only one enemy gun, and it sounded like the shooter had realized that his companions had stopped firing. Lucas had a fair idea of his vicinity, but that wasn’t good enough – he would be on alert now that he was the only remaining aggressor, and waiting for an attempted ambush.
The fire from Hayden’s men diminished to a pop every few seconds, and Lucas waited for them to stop shooting lest one of them spot him and believe him to be an enemy. When the forest fell silent, Lucas rose and retraced his steps to where the sheriff waited with his men. Lucas sidled up to the tree next to him and twisted toward Hayden, his eyes never leaving the forest in front of him.
“I got three of the four. But last one’s playing possum. We need to flush him out. How many of your men got hit?”
“Two.”
“The rest of you need to fan out and make for the top of the hill. I’ll circle back up and watch for the baddy.”
“Sounds like a good way to get shot if you’re one of us.”
Lucas frowned. “You can’t just lie here the rest of the day. Either way, the Chinese are coming.”
Hayden didn’t blink. “We’re bait and you’re the hunter. Sounds like a good deal for one of us.”
Lucas forced himself to remain calm. “Did I miss where you took out three of the gunmen? They had you pinned down and I saved your bacon. You going to do this, or lie here and argue while he takes up a new position and plugs a bunch of you when you move?”
Hayden shook his head. “Not saying we won’t do it. Just thinking out loud.”
“Give me a minute, and then fan out and work your way up the hill. I’ll be to your right. Whatever you do, don’t shoot me. Pass that along to your boys.”
Lucas didn’t wait for a response; each passing second shifted the advantage back to the Chinese. He retraced his steps up the hill, running in a crouch until he was in the same area as earlier. Lucas swept the brush with his M4, searching for the last gunman, but saw nothing. Whether the same was true for the Chinese remained to be seen – he might have spied Lucas but held his fire so as not to give his position away to the others.
Lucas hadn’t bothered telling Hayden to make as much noise as possible. He was confident the sheriff’s men would do so without his urging, based on their performance so far. He waited, continually scanning the brush, and heard rather than saw Hayden’s group working their way up the rise.
A minute went by with no shooting, and Lucas was about to conclude the Chinese had bolted when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He swung his rifle toward the spot, glimpsed a trace of dark fabric among the leaves, and fired without thinking. The sound of a body falling to the ground was unmistakable, and in a flash Lucas was on his feet, sprinting toward his quarry. He made more noise than he wanted, but the absence of any shooting told him he’d at least winged his target, if not finished him.
Lucas arrived at where the Chinese had fallen and saw a man lying facedown, his arms
sprawled to either side, an M16 lying just out of reach, a red blossom in the center of his back with bright red arterial blood pulsing from the hole. Lucas slowly approached the wounded man, gun trained on his head. When he reached him, he knelt and turned the Chinese over, and found himself staring at Chen, blood seeping from both corners of his mouth.
Recognition lit the man’s countenance and he grinned at Lucas, his teeth smeared with red.
“You…have…no chance. A thousand…men…are coming,” he managed, and then coughed up a mouthful of crimson.
Lucas stared at him impassively. “Saw the ship. There any more on their way?”
“We…will never…stop…”
Another cough, and then Chen stiffened and his eyes clenched shut. Lucas watched him die without interest, and when he’d stopped breathing, called out to Hayden.
“Coast is clear. Tend to your wounded, and let’s get this show on the road.”
An answering shout drifted from the trees. Lucas took a final glance at Chen, removed three full magazines from the Chinamen’s vest and replaced his spent ones, and then turned toward where the sheriff was plowing through the brush with all the subtlety of a bull elephant.
Chapter 5
Mary stood with her hands on her hips, facing her daughter with a frown. The low moans of the wounded rose behind her in a steady lament. Rosemary’s stance was equally resolute, her shoulders square and radiating defiance.
“Most of them can’t be moved, Mom. You can see that plain as day,” Rosemary repeated.
“That’s not your problem, sweetheart. You’ve done everything you can. We have to go – the Chinese are on their way,” Mary insisted in a low voice.
“They won’t survive on the road. You might as well put a bullet in them right now if they aren’t cared for.”
“We can’t do anything more. My job is to keep you safe, not fix the world.”
Rosemary’s face darkened. “What happened to all that Christian charity you preach? Or does that mean only as long as it’s easy?”
“That isn’t fair. We’ve all done more for these poor souls than anybody has a right to expect.”
“What if it were me lying on one of these cots?”
Mary looked over at where Ruby was helping Sylvia with a bandage on a boy no more than sixteen. “It isn’t. Thank the Lord. Now come on. Your father is waiting at the gate.”
“I’m not done, Mom. Sylvia and Ruby need my help.”
Mary shook her head. “It’s over, Rosemary. Time to go.”
“I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
Mary sighed. “What are you hoping to accomplish with this? The future of these unfortunates is out of our hands. All you’re doing is putting yourself at risk for no good reason.”
“If tending to the wounded isn’t a good enough reason, I don’t know what is.”
“Not at the risk of your life. Stop this, Rosemary. We’re out of time.”
“I heard you before, and I told you I’ll be along when we’re done. It’s not like the Chinese are going to parachute in or anything. We can ready at least the ones who have a chance of surviving the trip. I’m not leaving until we’ve done that. These people defended us. I’d expect the same.” She looked her mother over. “Are you going to keep arguing, or are you going to help so I can get done quicker?”
Ruby approached with Sylvia, who was carrying a toolbox in one hand and a plastic bag of refuse in the other. Ruby sized Mary up and correctly interpreted the situation.
“Rosemary’s been a huge help, Mary,” Ruby said. “Which reminds me – I owe you big for taking care of me while I was sick.”
Mary’s complexion darkened and she smiled. “No problem. I’m glad you mended.”
“Getting there.”
Sylvia cleared her throat. “There are eight who could make it to Newport if the stars aligned, four of whom are question marks. The rest can’t be moved.”
“Then what do we do with them?”
Sylvia looked away. “We’ll have to leave them and hope the Chinese take care of them.”
“You know that’s not going to happen,” Rosemary said.
“No, we don’t. All of this is a guess. But we have no choice. If we try to move them, they’ll be dead by nightfall.”
“There has to be something we can do besides walk away,” Ruby said.
Sylvia frowned. “I can’t think of anything. All we can do is try to make them comfortable, which isn’t much.” She paused. “If we had the doc’s painkillers…”
Ruby shook her head. “I know. But we don’t.” She sighed. “Let’s work on getting those we’re going to take ready for the carts.”
Sylvia glanced at the patients. “There just isn’t enough time…”
“I’ll pitch in if you think it will help,” Mary volunteered, and Rosemary’s brow rose in surprise. Mary shrugged. “I can’t leave you here, so I might as well make myself useful.”
“But Dad…”
“He’s already at the gate. He can wait a few more minutes.” Mary looked around. “Who’s in charge of the horses and carts?”
“Ben is supposed to arrive any moment.”
“Ben hasn’t been on time in his life,” Mary spat. “Why did they put him in charge of this?”
“Hayden and Lucas aren’t here, and the rest of the council are busy coordinating the move,” Sylvia said. “He was the only one free.”
“This just keeps getting better and better,” Mary grumbled. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”
“We’re cleaning all the wounds and applying your salve to stave off infection,” Ruby said. “You can help me, and Rosemary can work with Sylvia.”
Mary looked her over. “You sure you’re okay with this? Wasn’t long ago you were on one of these cots.”
“As long as I don’t strain myself.”
Mary acquiesced. “Okay. What are we doing?”
Sylvia pointed to an unfortunate whose leg was missing from the knee down, his face pale as a ghost. “Rupert there. He’s out of it, but other than the leg, he’s in decent enough shape.”
Mary raised an eyebrow at the stained bandage. “Seriously?”
Ruby exhaled. “It’s going to be an uphill battle.”
Rosemary watched her mother wend her way to Rupert through the collection of cots, Ruby close behind her, and her chest swelled with pride. With another pair of skilled hands, they could cut the preparation time down significantly and be ready to load the patients earlier than she’d hoped.
If they were lucky, that would be good enough.
Rosemary offered a prayer under her breath as Sylvia tossed the bag of soiled bandages outside and blinked away her fatigue. Whatever happened, they had tried their best to salvage those who could be saved. She glanced over at the youth on the stretcher, who was delirious with fever, and sighed, a knot of anxiety in her stomach. They would be cutting it close, but if Ben arrived shortly, they would still make it out of town, if not with the first sortie, the final one.
If he didn’t, they were in serious trouble.
She pushed the thought away and turned to Sylvia. “Who’s next?”
~ ~ ~
Jeb fidgeted by the barricade. The horses could sense his unease and snorted periodically, the presence of hundreds of humans adding to their discomfiture. He craned his neck to see over the milling crowd, the street clogged with animals and carts for a hundred yards, no sign of his wife or daughter. Caleb approached, his long face stern, and nodded to Jeb.
“You ready? Where’s your family?” he asked.
“They were over at the hospital. Looks like they might have run into some trouble or something.”
“I was there earlier. There were a lot of wounded to tend to.”
“That’s probably it. Mary was just going to fetch Rosemary and meet me here.”
“You have everything you’ll need?” Caleb asked, eyeing Jeb’s overloaded cart.
“I expect so. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
They were interrupted by Hubert’s voice calling out to the crowd. “All right. It’s time to ride. Guards, take up position on either side of the column in case the squatters try anything.” Hubert paused. “Is everyone accounted for?”
“We’re still short a few dozen, Mayor,” one of the guards called out.
“That’s all right,” Hubert said. “We’ll leave a contingent of men to guide them out. There’s always going to be stragglers. They’ll be a half hour or so behind us. They’ll catch up when we make camp.” Hubert hesitated. “Are there any questions?”
“How close are the Chinese?” a voice called from Jeb’s left.
“At last report, the ship looked like it was nearing the mouth of the bay. But it’s too large to make it in, so it should take some serious time for anyone to reach us. We’ll be long gone by the time their force makes it to shore.”
Thunder roared overhead, and Hubert paused until he could be heard again. “We’ll try to get at least fifteen miles away by tonight, maybe twenty. We can continue after dark – we’re a large enough group that no scavengers will attack.”
“What about the tent people?” another voice asked.
“They’re on their own.” Another pause. “Guards? Open the gates.”
Jeb called to Hubert. “Mary and Rosemary aren’t here yet. I’m going to hang back and wait for them.”
“No need. Ben’s on his way to the hospital. They’ll be along soon enough, in the second group. Everyone who’s here goes now. We’re going to set the town on fire to deprive these bastards of anything we left behind.”
“I’m not leaving them–”
“This isn’t a debate, Jeb. They’ll be in good hands. We figured they might take longer, so we made allowances. Get a move on and don’t worry about them. We have it handled.”
“But I have their horses…”
“Leave them at the gate. They’ll be fine.” Hubert called to Caleb. “Give the word to torch the town. I want nothing left by the time the Chinese land.”
Caleb raised a radio to his lips and issued the order. Jeb reluctantly did as instructed and guided the horses to the barricade. He handed one of the sentries the reins and the man tied them to a hitching post, his attention on the scene outside the barricade, where a large crowd of tent people had gathered. Jeb trudged back to his horse and cart, and then the gate creaked open and a murmur went up from the squatters at the sight of dozens of heavily armed riders advancing on them, the townspeople in a column behind them. The tent people rushed to move aside, and a few of them shouted insults at the guards, who kept the crowd at bay with their rifles, their message of menace clear.
The Day After Never - Perdition (Book 6) Page 3
