Outnumbered (Book 6)

by Robert Schobernd

  A short, fat woman hit Merriam across the buttocks with a stout stick and yelled, "Get your worthless ass over to the woods and haul kindling to start a fire. And if you try to run off again, Charlie and Norell will beat you and screw you till you can't walk; it'll be even worse than the last time. Now get, you lazy heifer." She swung the stick again, but Merriam evaded the blow and scurried across the open ground toward us.

  Merriam entered the woods twenty feet to the right of where Richard and I lay. Cautiously we inched across the ground toward her. She heard or saw us and flinched noticeably; I whispered, "Merriam, it's Tom Jacobs. Keep working and don't stop to look at me." She was startled and stared at me. Then she saw Richard and lunged toward us.

  "Stop!" I put both palms up and whispered loudly, "We're here to get all of you, but not right now. How many men and women are there?" She stopped five feet from us.

  Her grin of jubilation faded when I said not right now. "There's two men and five women and two female teenagers here plus eight of their children."

  "How many are gone."

  She thought for a few seconds. "Nine men, two women and two male teenagers."

  "Don't stop working, keep gathering sticks. How long have they been gone?"

  A voice yelled from the clearing. "Where the hell's that kindling? Hurry up, Bitch or you'll get another ass whipping."

  Merriam grabbed more sticks as she spoke, "Three days, they're expected back soon, tonight or tomorrow I hear. One man left by himself and hasn't returned, but they don't seem too worried because he's done that before."

  "How many prisoners are there?"

  "Us and two other women. The men force us to have sex with them every night. Please, get us out of here. The women are as brutal as the men, and those damn teenagers are the worst. One of them is queer."

  Shouting erupted behind Merriam. Two of the guard women pushed and kicked Molly and another young woman, then laughed and congratulated each other for the harsh treatment.

  I said, "We'll come for you after the others return. Don't warn the others now, but you'll all have to escape to the far woods when the shooting starts. We'll be back, I promise."

  The fat woman yelled again for Merriam to bring the kindling. She started our way in a huff. Merriam stood with an armful of sticks and hurried back to the clearing. She tried to evade the mean bitch but got whacked anyway. When all eyes were off the edge of the woods, Richard and I crawled away until we could stand.

  Instead of going back to our camp, we circled to the west staying far enough back to avoid detection by the enemy. Ninety degrees over from where we'd been, we found a suitable site where the enemy could be watched twenty-four-seven. On the way back to our camp, we discovered an area where old, rusty farm equipment had been abandoned over the years. That would be the spot where sentries could meet to relieve each other instead of stumbling around near the enemy camp looking for their spot. We headed back.

  We got back at ten-thirty and explained the situation at the enemy camp to our group. Volunteers were solicited to spy on the enemy up close; we needed to be aware when the missing members returned. Those guards would relieve every four hours. My son-in-law, Mitch, took the first watch. I drew a circle in the dirt and showed the people assigned to that duty where to watch from and the junk equipment area where they'd relieve each other. All nodded. Mitch said he'd finish the current four-hour shift and stay on until four that afternoon.

  Richard and I ate, then grabbed our bedrolls and crawled under one of the wagons to sleep in the shade.

  Later, I vaguely heard thunder in the distance before I dozed off again.

  A loud boom of thunder woke me initially. Right behind it, a cracking bolt of lightening hit nearby. I looked at my watch, twenty minutes before four. Rain suddenly poured down. I looked out from under the wagon; tarpaulins had been attached to the sideboards of the wagons and stretched tight to stakes in the ground. Many of our group huddled there to stay dry, but wind driven rain surged in on one side to dampen those closest to that edge.

  The intensity of the downpour subsided after fifteen minutes to a light, steady rain. Five minutes later, Mitch and his relief rushed into our camp and sought me out.

  "They're back." He blurted as he breathed heavily from running. "They rode in about thirty minutes ago. Two wagons, ten men and two women. There were two horses and three cows tied behind the wagons. I couldn't tell what was on the wagons, but they had a lot of stuff under tarps." His numbers matched what we expected: eight adult males and two teenagers made ten males from a distance. Everett would have made eleven.

  We all gathered close together under another tarp hung over two taut lines stretched between two tree branches.

  "We have two choices. The first is to attack now before dark. The second choice is to wait till morning when everyone is getting up. In the morning means those raunchy bastards will abuse their captives again tonight."

  There were loud murmurings of approval, and I heard a lot of nows spoken.

  Morgan spoke above the crowd. "Tom, why don't you and Richard discuss how you'd implement each plan of attack and tell us the best option? I'm in favor of now, if it's feasible."

  A steady, heavy rain, not a downpour, beat incessantly on the tarp. Richard and I stood aside and discussed pros and cons of each timeframe for long minutes. Finally, we agreed on the action we'd take. It was risky, but a dawn raid gave no clear promise of success either. Now won because everyone in the target camp would be tired at the end of a long work day or from riding the final hours of a multi-day trip. The rain that had driven everyone inside was the deciding factor in our favor.

  I addressed the group, "We'll go now under cover of the rain. Six of you will be with Morgan. Paige will lead another team of six. Mitch and I will go as a team as will Richard and Bryon. Our two man teams will slip into the cabins with silenced weapons while they still have lanterns lit. We'll try to take them by surprise and kill them inside the cabins quietly. If you hear shots, be ready to return fire."

  It took the better part of thirty minutes to gather weapons and rain gear. The two-man teams carried silenced MP5s and several people in the six man teams cradled silenced rifles in their arms. Everyone wore Army issue camouflage clothing. Carmen carried a backpack filled with medical supplies and an M16. Our dogs were left tied under the wagons with their jaws muzzled; if only left tied, their howling at being left behind could set the dogs in the enemy camp into a wild frenzy and put their keepers on edge.

  I led seven people, and Richard led the other seven in parallel columns. Near the edge of the clearing, we stationed our backup crews. They hunkered down amid puddles in the mud.

  Richard and I led our two men to the barn to secure it first. Although the big sliding doors on the front stood open, we approached a single-man door at the backside. Byron slowly opened it. The rusty door hinges squeaked as the wood plank door moved outward dragging through the muck. I cautiously entered alone and listened intently as I slithered forward. Dim light spewed through the big open doorway. In the gloom, two loaded wagons sat in the center isle. There was rustling up in the loft.

  Above me someone furtively whispered, "Shhhh."

  Loudly in a gruff voice, I yelled, "Get your worthless asses down here and give me a hand. Now, dammit."

  I heard voices speak softly. A half minute later, multiple pairs of feet clomped down a set of stairs. I reached the bottom of the stairway at the same time Elizabeth stepped to the dirt floor. Her clothing and hair were disheveled. She tried to button her pants as she walked.

  A man behind her said, "What the fuc—" I shot him in the head. A man two treads behind him took three silenced 9mm rounds in his chest.

  I grabbed Elizabeth before she could react and scream. "It's me, Tom Jacobs. We're here for you." She threw her arms around my neck and sobbed as she hugged me tight against her. "Do you know if anyone else is in here?" I asked.

  Through tears and sobs she blubbered, "I don't think so." As we spoke, each
body took another headshot.

  We hurried to the back door as she held my hand in a death grip, afraid of being left, I supposed. Outside, my three friends were surprised at the sight of Elizabeth.

  I cut the jubilation short and asked her, "There are six cabins. We know which one is the kitchen and eating area. Who is in the other five?" I moved from the shadow and cover of the barn's roof overhang and scratched the cabin locations in the mud as rain drenched us.

  "All the prisoners are kept in this one." She indicated a cabin behind the kitchen. "A man and a woman stay in there all night with us. The little kids sleep in the loft. They'll be inside out of the rain playing now. One of our girls and two guards should be there now. They make us take care of the kids. At night we bed down on pallets on the floor. Only the guards have beds; unless they drag one of us there with them."

  Richard asked, "It's still early; will the doors be barred or locked by this time?"

  In the faint light, Elizabeth shook her head. "No. They bar the doors when we bed down for the night."

  I turned to Richard and pointed on the ground. "You and Byron take this building and then this one and this one. Elizabeth is going with us to the kitchen." I turned to her and gripped her hand as I rethought our plan. "We need you and the other young women to take the younger kids into the woods. You'll need to carry the little ones and keep all of them quiet. The rest of our group is waiting there. Can you do it?"

  "To get away from here? Yes, we can do it."

  I walked her to the corner of the barn nearest the woods and pointed to where they should go.

  Before the five of us reached the opposite corner of the barn, I heard a low growl. Around the corner, a wet mongrel snarled even louder. Its feet were planted wide and its chest was low to the ground. It barked twice before a single bullet in its head caused it to emit a low moan and roll over on its side in slow motion. I checked my watch; it showed five-forty-five. With cloud cover blocking the moon, darkness could envelop us around six-thirty.

  Richard split off from us. He and Byron ran hunched low with short, fast steps for the nearest cabin. My team went the other way to the kitchen.

  The three of us slipped and stumbled through the mud. Smoke from the kitchen stove hung low due to an inversion of the air currents heavy with moisture. I noticed Elizabeth was bare-foot; my moccasins were soaked through and filled with water inside. I nudged her onto the porch and then motioned for her to go inside and quickly step to the right side. She nodded then pushed the door open.

  I heard, "Well, the little whor—."

  Mitch and I burst through the doorway. I recognized Molly and Merriam and made a quick guess as to another captive. Mitch shot a woman who had a gun on her hip and a man sitting at a table in a corner raising a fork to his mouth. I shot another woman who stood and snarled something hateful at me. A third younger woman raised her hands and said, "Surrender, I'm unarmed." My weapon went SPLURT, and a bloody hole appeared on her forehead. Mitch kicked the door shut.

  Elizabeth was with the three captives explaining about us. We told them our plan for rescuing the children, and then we left the kitchen.

  At the prisoner's cabin, three of our women stood against the wall on the porch. I whispered to Mitch and Elizabeth. She looked at us then confidently flung the door open and barged in.

  As the door opened, I yelled, "Get in there, Bitch!" Mitch and I charged in while Elizabeth ran across the room to a stairway on the right.

  I tried to stop with my machine gun pointed at a woman on the right. Mud on my soaked moccasins caused me to slip on the slick, worn wood floor; my legs danced to keep me up right. Mitch's MP-5 spat several times at his targets, a man and a woman. The woman in front of me reached to her left and pulled a revolver from a holster hanging on a straight wood chair. Her right arm flung toward me as I balanced and triggered a burst of shots at her upper torso. The pistol fell from her hand and dropped to the floor at the same time she did. Elizabeth clasped a young woman closely. When the shooting ended, they ran up the steps.

  I opened the door and brought the other women inside. They raced up the stairs to the loft and helped with the children. Children began coming down and paused on the lower stair treads. They stared at us and the bodies with eyes wide and curiosity in their expressions. Several recognized me and Mitch and grinned. There were two older children about ten years old I didn't recognize. Elizabeth had each of them securely in her grasp. Mitch and I cleared the two back bedrooms while the migration from the loft continued. Five of the smaller children were in the arms of the women. A minute later all the captives raced across the muddy, weed covered yard to the woods. In the fading light I saw dappled figures step away from the edge of the woods to guide the escapees through the stand of trees. Mitch closed the door behind us and we moved to our next target.

  The next building was the kitchen. We passed it and sloshed through rain puddles onto a wide porch across the front of our third building. Four wood rockers sat forlornly in the dark under the overhanging roof. I looked at Mitch and nodded as I reached for the door knob. The door pushed open but scraped noisily on the bare wood floor.

  We rushed inside as two loud gunshots rang out in the distance. Mitch and I were six feet into the room standing side by side firing at four targets. We'd almost trampled several kids playing in the middle of the room. Two men and two women fell in bloody heaps under our weapons.

  I turned my attention to four small children who looked at us in terror. Mitch checked the two back bedrooms. No one was lurking there. The kids were between three and six, I judged. We herded them to the porch. That they were afraid and confused by what they'd seen was obvious. I glared at them and gave harsh orders for the older ones to hold the hands of the youngest. They looked eager to escape, so I told them to run for the woods or I'd find them and punish them for disobeying me. Obviously, they understood punishment, and they'd felt its pain before. They left the porch. One boy stopped and turned to glance back at me. Three fast steps toward him convinced him to yelp and run harder as he pull the younger girl with him.

  Mitch and I trudged off in the direction where Richard and Byron should be. More loud gunshots signaled a fire fight between Richard and Byron and our targets. We had to get to them fast. I figured Mitch and I had dealt with six men and seven women. We had no idea how many were left. Obviously enough enemies remained to give Richard a hard time.

  We were stooped and scurrying through the mud under dimming light when I motioned for Mitch to stop. We stood next to a cabin wall and changed thirty-round magazines.

  Mitch and I had cleared the barn and three cabins. Enough time had passed that Richard had surely been through his first two targets. The unsilenced shots must have been from his last destination. Luckily, that was our sixth and final one.

  The rain had slowed but still fell steadily as the final vestiges of dusk faded into darkness. Gunshots became fewer as we reached the end of the cabin. I peeked around the corner and saw a muzzle flash from a window at the sixth cabin. Two subdued bursts from a silenced weapon shot at the shooter and moved him away from the opening. Our man was under the porch of the adjacent cabin. In the deepening shadows, there was movement between the two buildings in front of us. A figure slinked along the cabin wall where our people had taken cover under the porch.

  Mitch said, "I've got him." He sent a barrage on full auto before the man screamed, fell to his knees, and keeled over sideways in the wet muck.

  Bullets immediately hit the corner of our building. I flipped the MP-5's selector switch to single fire and aimed the iron sights at the window where the shooter had last fired. Four fast shots from left to right stitched across the glassless opening.

  I told Mitch, "Stay here and provide cover fire for Richard. I'll work my way around several of the cabins and get to the rear of number six. Don't shoot me when I cross that open space where you shot that guy on the ground."

  He replied, "Be careful, there's almost no light left. It's nearly imp
ossible to know friend from foe."

  I grinned in the dark. "I'll fix that."

  Five minutes later, I'd sloshed through the muck as fast as my slipping and sliding feet would let me. Seven loud shots had been fired during that time. I couldn't imagine what was going through the minds of our backup crew waiting to help us. They had no way of knowing if any of us were wounded, captured or dead.

  The space where Mitch shot the sneaky interloper loomed before me. If this cabin had a large living room space in front and two bedrooms behind that like the others, I knew how to drive the occupiers outside. Pushing off from the wall beside me, I crossed the open space as fast as possible. Under my parka, I grasped an M-67 fragmentation hand grenade, then pulled the pin. The barrel of the MP-5 poked through the glass, and then the grenade was lobbed inside.

  While squatting low behind the cabin's wall, I felt for and found an incendiary grenade. Seconds after the initial blast, there was the sound of gunfire from within the room. That was my cue to launch the phosphorous grenade through the opening. I hated those things because of the extra short fuses they carried.

  I was squatting low again when white hot phosphorus shot through the window opening and momentarily lit the area in front of me for several seconds. A terrible scream emanated from within the cabin from someone trapped in the fire zone. I rose, and through the smoke and flames fired a full automatic blast into the room until the magazine was empty. The screams stopped and I ducked down well below the window opening to slap in a fresh magazine.

  The fire inside the wood structure was gaining strength as I inched around the corner and along the wall toward the front of the building. Smoke seeped through cracks between the outside wall and the roof.

  I called out. "Richard, this is Tom, don't shoot me."

  He replied, "Roger, I see you. That's the last cabin, finish it fast. Byron is hit hard and needs help."