by Angela White
Angela shivered as Adrian increased the A/C, the cool air rushing over her sweaty skin. They had been forced to drop to 30 mph, but it was clear that Adrian wasn't stopping unless he had to. He was careful, though, not to go anywhere those behind him would have trouble traversing. They had a decent view, but the storm was just getting started.
The radio crackled with the thunder, making them jump, and they waited for someone to speak.
“Grid 12, E-8. Enemy is now approaching E-8, still moving fast, 45 steady,” their lookout called.
Adrian pushed the button on the mike, let go and switched to the very first channel they had used. It lit up right away.
“That's only about five miles behind us,” Angela said, using their map.
“By 9 plus 5.” Adrian switched to channel 86 and hit the truck's intercom button. “You men settled in?”
“As ready as we can be, considering we're bouncing,” Kyle answered.
“Good. The weather's getting worse. We may have to take shelter and that'll mean setting up wherever we land,” Adrian warned.
“Copy that. How far behind?” Kyle asked.
“Only five miles, going faster than us.”
“Roger that. We'll hang on. Let's keep that distance.”
Adrian controlled his need to panic, knowing it was likely to get them all killed if he didn’t stick to his guns, and pushed the rig up to 50 mph. “Maybe I can buy us a little time.”
He pushed the button on the mike. “Channel eighty three.”
Angela frowned as he switched. That was the slaver channel.
“…on Interstate 70. I’m having trouble keeping up,” a slaver called to his boss.
“Ir más rápido!” Go faster!
The transmission was full of static and odd drumming noises and Adrian gave Angela quick instructions.
“Have Neil call me on this channel, tell me he thinks he spotted someone following us and we should take shelter in Glendale and get ready to fight. It wouldn't hurt for Doug to tell him that he’s imagining things, and that we can't stop.”
Angela realized Cesar would tell his men to withdraw if he knew they were about to make camp–to surround them.
4
The slavers were still talking, figuring out how best to attack, and then in a pause, a very American voice cut through the accents.
“Eagle? Come in, Eagle?”
Adrian waited a second and then pushed the button on the mike. “What the hell are you doing on their channel? Get off!”
“I've had a fire and fell behind,” Neil stated. “This is the only channel I can broadcast on.”
“Do you need a ride?” Adrian asked.
“No, but maybe we should stay and get ready when we hit Glendale,” Neil sent back. “I'm going to blackout after this. I think I saw someone following us.”
“You did not. You're jumping at storm shadows,” Doug interrupted in the background.
The static clicked and Adrian pushed the button on the mike. “We'll wait for you in Glendale. The rain’s getting worse. We’ll have a minute to pick you up then find a place.”
“Copy. Out until 10.”
Adrian switched to channel 10. “Perfect. 7 by 4.”
They went through four channel changes that Angela couldn't keep track of and she smoked one stale cigarette after the other, listening, hoping.
The rain fell harder, slowing them down further and the wind rocked them along the sunken lanes of Interstate 70. The road was amazingly clear of traffic, but it was slowly becoming a pond as the torrents continued. Hail pinged off roofs and hoods as the lightning cracked, striking a structure in the distance.
Crack!
Flames burst outward and immediately began to fight the driving rain for survival. Thunder rolled above the small convoy, loud and echoing as if in warning, and all of them wondered how things were going in Safe Haven.
5
The news of Rick’s escape had worried everyone except for a single sullen teenager, but now that the slavers were coming, the traitor had been forgotten.
Becky had been sneaking out to their usual meeting places, hoping he would be there, but he hadn’t shown. Until this morning, Rick’s name had been on everyone’s lips and Becky hated them for it. They didn’t know him like she did. They all called him evil and a killer, but she didn’t feel that way. He’d told them who he was, told her–
“Psst…”
Becky spun to the find the object of her thoughts in the shadows behind the barn. Only his shaking head kept her from throwing herself into his arms.
“Careful.”
The teenager took a subtle glance around, but as usual, she was being ignored by everyone while they hurried to defend the camp. It was almost as if she didn’t exist.
Rick stayed still as Becky moved toward the showers and darted into the underbrush instead. He scanned the area. Any observers?
No.
“Come on.”
Becky followed him away from the chaos, loving the nervous chills in her stomach. He returned for me!
As soon as he thought it was safe, Rick opened his arms. Like he’d hoped, she didn’t hesitate and neither did he.
Instead of the intense hug she wanted, Becky found her lips against his, her chest crushed tightly to him. She thought to resist, but he eased his grip then and she responded to the feel of him against her female body. He was hard in all the places that she was soft.
Rick was now debating changing his plans. He could take her along. No one knew where she was and with everything going on, she wouldn’t be missed for hours.
“I have to know why you didn’t tell them.”
Shy under his gaze, Becky blushed, tone low. “I like you, more than them.”
Rick swept her up and this time, gave her the gentle welcome she’d been longing for. He held her until she began to let her fingers play in his hair and Rick kept himself still even when she shifted against him restlessly. He hadn’t meant to encourage her, only get some information, but the sight of her welcoming young face had been too much to resist.
“Will you…kiss me again?”
His wolf-like leer was quickly hidden. “Anytime you want!”
She laughed, a fresh, innocent peal of delight that had him dropping his mouth to hers. He couldn’t take her away from Safe Haven just yet, but he could steal her virginity right out from under Neil’s nose, and he would. Then he’d kill her.
6
By dusk, the convoy was still more than ten miles from Glendale and Adrian thought it was ironic that they weren't even going to make it to the place the slavers thought they would be. He waited for the check-in to decide what to do, but when the call came, it didn't ease his mind. The slavers were only eight miles behind and Adrian hit the button as the violent lightning flashed.
“We need a sturdy, easy to defend shelter, gentlemen.”
“We did a map-check a few minutes ago,” Kyle responded immediately. “We spotted a YMCA and a rest stop.”
“The rest stop is brick and small. No fires and no sneaking in,” Zack stated from the truck behind them.
Adrian hit the button. “The rest stop. Secure it and get set up right away. We won't have much time.”
“Copy, out.”
There was no question, no hesitation and Angela felt a little better about the plan changing so rapidly. “How long will we have?”
“An hour, maybe,” Adrian answered, following the signs for the rest area through the driving rain. “More like forty-five minutes.”
“To set it all up in this weather?”
Adrian slowed as the building came up on their right. “This weather is what will make it work. They won't be able to see anything until they're trapped.”
He pulled the Semi over and found his one prayer answered. There were cicada-covered trees everywhere.
The rain had settled down a bit, but the wind was still gusting as Adrian unlocked the rear doors using the button Kenn had installed weeks ago for this very
moment.
“Ready?” he asked, the men around them already out and moving supplies, disappearing into the landscape.
Angela pulled on her dark hood, kit over her arm. “You know it.”
They both rushed from the cool truck and into the cold rain, taking shelter under the small awning over the brick building’s double glass doors. Doug and Neil, and a few others were already there and they entered inside with guns drawn.
The doors were unlocked and the men secured the one large room in seconds and then began carrying things into the Ellsworth County rest stop.
Adrian waved the closest man over for guard duty. “You stay down and out of the way,” he spoke to Angela. “When it starts, I'd like you to pass out ammo and anything else we need.”
“That's it?” Cynthia asked disappointedly, tape recorder on in her pocket.
Thinking of last night’s violent dream, where not one or even two perfectly made shots had been enough to save Angela, Adrian left. “For now.”
7
The fifteen men in the rear of the rig were out the minute the lock clicked. They took their share of the boxes and disappeared into the landscape. They were careful to show each other the traps as the storm picked up again and the sky started looking like the ten minutes or so before full dark.
Adrian and a few of the men labored outside, hiding their vehicles, after making sure their tracks continued out of sight. The others were inside and the sound of drilling echoed out the open doors, rolled past Adrian, across the street and up into the heavily wooded area. It almost drowned out the hordes of cicadas roosting in the trees.
The noise didn't last five minutes and then there were three new holes, all filled in with red handkerchiefs. Even from only a few feet away, it was hard to tell they were there. Two of the three holes viewed into the tall stalls that made the long entrance to the bathrooms, one on each side of the rest stop. Anyone taking shelter there would be in for a nasty surprise.
Thick wooden boards were nailed over the two front windows, leaving a three-inch gap at the bottom to shoot from and vests were nailed loosely over these windows so the men inside would have some cover.
Adrian stared at the roof, where two men now waited, hidden behind the decorative chimney and a camouflaged shield of vests. He was satisfied when he couldn’t pick them out.
The leader went to his semi, pulling himself nimbly up without noticing how soaked he was, but he did think that annoying, high-pitched song of the bugs was louder. He pushed the button on the mike. “Location for Eagle by 6.”
Adrian switched to 36 and waited, worried when there was no answer. He didn't call again, though, sure they were lying low and too close to the slavers to call.
He climbed down slowly and was about to shut the door when the lightning flashed and the radio sparked.
“They’re in Black Wolf now, moving fast.”
Adrian scrambled for the mike. “Roger, by 5, 3 and 9.”
He flipped to the right channel and pushed the button on the mike. “We're in the Ellsworth Rest Stop. Break off and get ahead. Join Kyle.”
“Roger, out.”
Relief was in Jeremy’s voice, but there was excitement, too and Adrian was glad to hear it. The scouting team wanted to be here for the battle, but they would be careful not to be spotted and ruin the plan.
Adrian hit the button on his chest, using the new coded short-wave setup that the slavers wouldn’t be able to pick up until they were less than half a mile away.
“We've got five minutes.”
“Copy.”
Adrian stepped under the awning, frowning at the sudden feeling of doom that flew over him. Had he forgotten something?
He turned toward Angela, finding her through the glass. She hadn’t taken up a place under the windows, but her orbs were glowing and her gun was in hand. Good.
“Get under cover. They’re three minutes out.”
He saw his secret terror mirrored before she took up a prime spot at one of the windows.
Outside, the cicadas fell silent.
8
The building was pitch-black when the faint sounds of engines echoed through the storm.
Adrian knew he didn't have to tell Kyle to get set and he took his place near the door with a few others, rifle in one hand, radio in the other.
“They’re here,” Angela warned and the first broken lights flashed off the trees and across the wet pavement.
“They'll be slow when they pass us, but it’s dark. They won't notice anything wrong unless we move.” Adrian’s words were comforting and they all held perfectly still as streams of light lit up the parking area and the sidewalk, and then the room. They stared at the front doors as the wet vehicles rolled by.
Angela let out a cold sigh as that hard shield of battle fell into place. “Now! He just saw your truck. Kill them now!”
Adrian pushed the button on his mike, sure fate was standing still to observe this moment. “It's a go!”
The Eagles waited in the mud and rain as the army rolled toward them in the windy darkness, peering from behind the trees, picnic tables and grills.
Kyle was cool and calm, ready. It helped that he was a natural, too, and he was raising his arm to throw even as the walkie-talkie crackled, “It's a go!”
He took aim on the gold Corvette and threw.
Outside the rest stop, for one last instant, there was only the storm. Then hell split open and swallowed them as the Eagles unleashed their fire and brimstone.
Kyle’s aim was perfect, but the wind gusted, sending wet branches flying into his path. The grenade was deflected and it fell to the grass before bouncing onto the pavement.
The gold Corvette rolled, unknowing, over it.
Seconds later it exploded under a red truck and fire ripped through the cab as it rose off the ground and fell hard, metal splintering. The three men inside were killed instantly.
The Ford behind it crashed into the fiery wreckage a second later.
The slavers began slamming on their brakes and plowing into each other to avoid the flaming mess and the dull thud of steel hitting steel echoed. Burning metal trapped men and their screams went unheeded as more grenades flew.
Cars exploded in sheets of burning debris behind the first wreck, cutting off that route of escape. More fire exploded in front of them, still aimed at the gold convertible, and the slavers panicked. Realizing they’d been led into a trap, they rear-ended each other, swerving and causing pileups, and most of the two lanes were completely blocked less than 30 seconds into the battle.
Armed men now abandoned their blocked-in cars, hurrying for the cover of the trees as gunfire echoed. Cesar began screaming orders into the mike that it was an ambush, to keep driving, but large groups of Mexicans fled to either side of the road.
More grenades shot through the wet air as a volley of gunshots rang out and four cars with men still inside were destroyed. Some killed, most were trapped with the flames coming their way.
Kyle flashed his light, signaling his men to fall back, and the Eagles retreated behind the ambush site as the first of the fleeing slavers reached the wired trees.
Men streamed into the cover of nature, and the noise of the cicadas suddenly exploded through the storm as a large group hit the first trap at almost the same time.
Blood flew in thick splatters as men lost hands, had their throats slit and their stomachs sliced open. Bloody rain began soaking into the ground and screams of horror filled the battlefield. These sounds grew when the hungry bugs above them began coming down for a drink.
Not realizing that was where the noises of agony were coming from, more men ran toward death as grenades continued to explode, herding them.
Adrian and Marc had estimated that their trap would kill or critically wound half of the slavers and they were almost right. Thirty-five men were killed in the mad rush, another eight would likely bleed to death, and the fiery mess on the road took more than twenty. Roughly sixty men had run into the trees
and the remaining killers now scattered toward the rest area where Adrian and his men were waiting. The rest were eaten alive.
A dozen guerillas made it past the guns on the roof and in the windows, fleeing into the brick bathroom stalls, and another ten ran behind those tall walls, all scanning vainly for help as the Eagles picked them off.
At Adrian’s nod, the men inside the rest stop shoved their guns through the holes and let loose. Again caught off guard, only one Mexican made it out of the stalls alive, dashing to join the six who waited beneath the only trees on that side that were together enough to provide any real protection. They stared longingly at the cars in the street, many of them still running, the doors open wide. Two of them suddenly darted for these magic carpets and were picked off like ducks at a carnival, triggering a rush of cicadas that swarmed over their exposed flesh like acid.
Cesar was alone. Forced into the parking lot by grenades, he furiously swept Adrian's rig and then the rear of the brick building they were taking shelter in. The Americans may have surprised him, but that didn’t mean he was beaten!
Ignoring the screams of his men, Cesar grabbed a recklessly fleeing form in a sombrero.
The man struggled and Cesar slid his knife to the guerilla’s throat.
“I am your leader. You will do as I tell you!”
Gravari gave a shaky nod, recognizing him.
Cesar shoved him toward Adrian’s semi. “Get it going! Run them down!”
“But the other–”
“Do it now! Run them down!” the slaver screamed, knife rising. He started to say something else, but stopped in shock at an explosion that rippled into the thunder. What the hell was that?
Gunshots, explosions and screams were still coming from the picnic area, the land mines cutting men in half and then the eighteen Eagles advanced, guns belching justice. This was the most dangerous part, the line moving in to clear out the survivors, and not all of these brave men were with Kyle when he finally reached the pavement.
