by Sweet, Dell
Within seconds fighters appeared in and around the Square. One running figure stopped, lit the rag that hung from the neck of the bottle in his hand, and then tossed it at one of the cars on the far side of the parking lot. The bottle hit the roof line, shattered, and flaming gasoline splashed onto both men hanging from the rear windows. Within seconds everything inside the car was burning. The driver accelerated, maybe thinking he could somehow outrun the flames, but the speed turned the flames into a blow torch. The car continued to accelerate, flaming like a torch. It jumped the curbing, plowed into a tilted section of sidewalk and became airborne. It crashed nose first into one of the plate glass windows of the porn shop that graced the shadowy west end of the parking lot, and the whole lower floor became an inferno.
The car closest to them began to open up on the bottle tosser with everything they had. They had delayed, frozen as the car followed its flaming destiny into the porn shop. Now they were firing on anything that moved in or around the square.
In the distance, they could hear the sound of engines coming closer, big V8 engines, not the small insect whine of the cars the men from the north side were driving.
One of the cars backed up and then took a running start at a wide sidewalk that cut up to the square. The undercarriage scraped across the concrete as the car flew over the curbing and slammed down onto the concrete sidewalk, showering the walkway with sparks. The car raced up the wide sidewalk toward the square, careening from side to side as it went. The occupants hung from the windows spraying automatic gunfire into the surrounding buildings as they went.
One of the other cars began to chase after the car heading for the square when a group in one of the buildings on the square side of the parking lot opened up on it. They heard a steady plink, plink, plink as the bullets found their way into the cars thin body, then a heavier coughing bark a split second later as a bigger gun found it.
The car spun around in a circle as the driver was hit. One of the guys leaning out of the back window was thrown forward under the spinning wheels and then run over. The driver straightened and gained control of the car for a split second only to lose it again as he was hit once more. His foot pressed hard into the floor board.
The front end of the car was aimed slightly off center of the parking lot which would take it a few hundred feet down past where Mike and the others were hidden in the trees. It would probably miss the overgrown woods, crash over the edge of the cliff and down onto the Old River Road. Mike keyed the hand held and called to Bob.
“Bob! Listen,” he said, “We got a car coming over the cliff at you. Get out of the way… Now!” About the same time he finished speaking the Toyota jumped the curb and became air born. It sailed into the low, winter dead shrubs and brush at the end of the wooded area. The front end caught and began to tip downward as the shrubs and the trees snatched at it. The back of the car lifted up over the trees, engine still racing as it began to tumble, and then plunged down toward the Old River Road. The noise of the crash from the roadway was deafening and seemed to go on forever. Candace came over the radio. “Missed us… Hit the other truck,” static for a second “Those guys are wasted. They’re done,” she finished.
The two remaining cars were nowhere to be seen when Mike and Ronnie turned back to the parking lot. The one had disappeared up the sidewalk into a hail of gunfire, the other had simply disappeared.
“Out the end of the lot… Maybe headed back to the north,” Tim said anticipating his question.
“One just blew by the end of the road heading back over the bridge,” Patty said from the radio, confirming what Tim had told them.
“That’s got to be the other one. Good job, Tim,” Mike said.
A second later, the engines they had heard coming entered the square from lower State Street and Factory Street.
Two vehicles that had probably not so long ago been ordinary pickup trucks but were now lifted and wildly modified, screamed around the edge of the square from lower State Street, nearly going up on two wheels, and headed for the bridge. The cabs each held four men, machine pistols gripped tightly in their hands as they rode out the curve of the square. Once on the straightaway to the bridge, the men were leaning out the windows and firing wildly at the fleeing cars.
The last truck careened off Factory street, a half dozen men riding in the open bed, holding onto the roll bar, and fell in behind the other two trucks. Mike listened as they accelerated and headed for the north side.
“Trucks coming at you,” Ronnie was saying as Mike watched the trucks roar past the edge of the square and drop down the short hill that lead to the bridge.
“Hear them,” Patty came back, and a few seconds later, “Got them. They just passed the end of the road headed for the north side.” The radio went back to static.
A fourth truck roared down Factory Street and slewed around, nearly tipping over as it tried to make the turn down the little hill to the bridge. Up on the square, the car that had shot up the sidewalk to the square, came back around the edge of the square and opened up on the truck.
The truck was caught off guard. The nose came up as the driver floored the gas pedal in an effort to get away, and then bounced back down on the asphalt as the engine died. The small car screeched to a stop and opened up on the truck, the occupants in the truck kept up a steady fire back at the car.
As Mike watched, Ronnie nudged him and pointed out a building in back of the small car. A young woman appeared at the edge of the roof line, a gas filled bottle in her hands. She lit the rag and tossed it down at the small car. The bomb hit the roof of the car and liquid fire spread from end to end, dripping down onto the shooters. For a second there was nothing, and then the interior of the car bloomed into flame. The car accelerated across the space between itself and the truck. Mike could hear men screaming inside the burning car from where he stood watching the events unfold.
The shooters in the truck opened up on the small car filling it with lead, but the car never slowed. The car hit the truck broadside and both vehicles erupted in flames. Seconds later, the truck's gas tank blew. The rear end of the truck lifted from the pavement with a wham and then crashed back down, a twisted, flaming wreck. It landed partway onto the roof of the small car, crushing it inward, adding its own flames to that coming from the car. The cars gas tank went next, and the screaming stopped abruptly.
Flames shot up into the night sky. The only sounds the crackle of flames and the steady pop, pop, pop as bullets exploded inside the burning vehicles.
Ronnie keyed the hand held radio. “Two of them just blew up here. There’s a lot of people still on the ground though. Keep a watch out.”
Mike was watching the buildings. “They’re hiding in the buildings. Maybe they’re going to ground,” he told Ronnie. As he watched, he saw several shadows slipping between the buildings.
Bob came back on the radio. “Listen, we’ve got to get that car gone. It’s burning… Caught the truck it hit as well. We’ve got to push it off into the river before it blows.”
“Do it,” Mike said. “Be careful.”
They heard the sound of one of their own trucks starting down on the Old River Road just seconds later and listened to the screaming and screeching of tires as the truck pushed the two burning vehicles over the edge of the cliffs and into the river. “Done,” It was Candace who called to tell them. Bob had gotten in the truck and done the pushing himself.
Thank God, Mike thought. “Got you,” he said aloud.
“Trucks are coming back,” She said next.
A few seconds later the sounds of the engines came to Ronnie and Mike.
The screaming engines reverberated off the river cliffs as they came. They crossed the bridge, blew past the burning wrecks and disappeared up State Street in a roar of engine noise and a flash of brake lights.
Evening came on in silence.
~ Runners In The Darkness ~
Two hours after sunset the fires were still burning, casting the parking lots in
yellowed shadows. The thick, cloying smell of burning pork hung in the air, mixing with the smells of burning gasoline, rubber and hot metal.
The last gunfight came then, directed at them.
~
Ronnie saw the first one coming and nudged Mike. The shadow of a runner broke from one crazily titled building and ran towards the tree line and Mike and the others.
As the runner grew closer, they could see one of the machine pistols clutched in his hands. As he jumped the curbing, heading for the tree line, Mike, Lilly, Tim and Ronnie all opened up on him. He spun off to one side, fingers squeezing convulsively on the trigger, and collapsed just past the curbing. His shots went wild into the air in a short burst, breaking the silence, stabs of bright white light stitching the yellowed shadows where the four hid in stark relief, painting their faces in washed out white.
The radio squawked, “What’s going on up there?” Candace called. In the brilliant stabs of bright white, all of them had seen the dozen or so men hiding in the shadows of the buildings. They knew for sure they were here now and where they were.
“Send two up the road to back us up,” Mike called. “But don’t give up your positions down there. Keep your eyes peeled. We got about a dozen of them on us up here.”
He clicked off and turned his attention back to the parking lot. All the men he had seen were gone now, hidden once more by the shadows. The would be assassin lay crumpled partway onto the sidewalk, hanging over the edge of the curbing, his legs still in the parking lot. The machine pistol lay next to his open hand. Silent. Everything was silent. But the silence only held for a moment, and then the men they had seen in the shadows opened up on them.
They returned fire as they threw themselves into the dirt, but after a few short seconds, those hidden away on the other side of the parking lot stopped returning fire. They faded away, either deeper into the buildings or out of them and off into the square somewhere. Mike suspected they hadn’t intended to run into them in the tree line, that they had assumed there would be nothing between them and the cliff face down to the cave. They had sent only one man, after all, and he had run directly at them, as though he seemed not to be aware that they were there.
Three or four men in one building at the edge of the parking lot began to suddenly return fire. For whatever reason, they decided not to retreat along with the others.
Mike, Tim and Lilly shifted further to the right. Ronnie moved off to the left, running hard for several feet then crashing to the ground and reloading, preparing to return fire.
Answering fire crashed into the tree line where they had been. The four held their own fire, waiting. When no return fire came, the gunmen rushed from the shadows, running the hundred yards or so towards the tree line.
Mike slammed a fresh clip home and took aim on the runners. Return fire came from Lilly and Tim to his left, and Ronnie off to his right. Now, because of the change in position, they were firing into the side of the running line of men. A second barrage of fire came from the far right. Most likely, Mike thought, whoever had been sent up to help them.
All four runners were cut down before they reached the tree line. Silence descended again, and the third and final gunfight of the day was over just that fast. Smoke hung over the parking lot from the gunfire, drifting into the tree line with the light breeze that was blowing through the empty, tilted buildings.
“Cover me,” Mike said. He ran quickly out onto the blacktop, using the drifting smoke as partial cover, and retrieved the machine pistols and clips. No gunfire came from anywhere. He collected the four weapons and hurried back into the tree line.
~
Two hours later Mike sat sipping coffee, replaced up top with a two man guard that would immediately call on the radio for backup if anyone showed up, and before sunrise a fresh team would be sent up ready for a fight. Candace sat next to him. Tom, Ronnie and Patty sat with them too. Sleeping on the far side of the cave were the two young women from the day before. Candace filled Mike in on their story.
“They had been doing their best to avoid those guys for four or five days... maybe longer.”
“How could they not know how long they had been avoiding them?” Mike asked.
“Because they think the men were spying on them for a few days before they became obvious,” Candace explained.
“Okay,” Mike answered.
“They finally made their move. These two women were part of a group of six, two men and four women, living in some railroad cars out Massey Street.”
“There’s an old rail yard out there,” Patty said.
Mike nodded. He remembered playing along the tracks as a kid. The rail yard had been a major employer at one time, but like everything else, its time had come and gone. Trains became too slow, too expensive, at least here, and the yard had closed.
“They attacked them. Killed the two men outright and one of the women. They think killing the woman was an accident.” She paused. “The three remaining women managed to get away, but they had been tracking them down. They finally caught them two days ago. They had thought things would immediately be bad, and in some ways they were, but not like they expected. Not rape, not that, but what was about to happen was that they were going to be traded off for something big. They didn’t know what, just something big,” Candace paused.
“So, something happened yesterday and suddenly everybody is shouting. And in the middle of that they decided to run. They thought they might never get another chance. They had talked it over and agreed if the chance did come they should take it. They knew what was coming after all. Rather than face that, being sold and used like a piece of meat, they decided they’d rather take the chance. If that meant death… well, they were ready to accept that.”
“So,” Candace continued after another pause, “they ran and the men chasing them didn’t want to damage the merchandise, so they chased instead of just shooting them dead. Molly, that’s the one that nearly ran into you, said when you suddenly appeared in front of them, they thought it was over. But they knew about us. They knew where we were. That’s where they were trying to get to.” Candace rubbed at her eyes and then the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were streaked with red, Mike noticed. He supposed his eyes didn’t look much better. It was also obvious that talking about what the two women had told her angered her.
“The other woman, Susan, had overheard them talking about us. She told the others where we were, how to get there, which way to run.” She paused again.
“So they were discussing us?” Mike asked.
“Afraid so,” Candace said. “They want to take us over. They want the cave. They want us too… the women,” she finished.
“No doubt,” Ronnie said, “But that won’t happen. As my Daddy used to say, that dog won’t hunt.”
“Yeah, but it’s a problem,” Mike said. “And it tells me they were coming for us. No doubt about that at all.”
“So?” Patti asked.
“So… I don’t know. But we’re not going to stand by and wait for them to take us out. Now that we know… Did they say how many? Any idea how strong they are?” Mike asked.
“They couldn’t tell. They were locked up and kept away from the others most of the time. Even so, they said they saw over twenty different men. Maybe twice as many when both groups were together. But now the two groups are fighting, so.” She stopped.
“Women?” Mike asked.
“Not too many. Maybe a dozen, but most of them are with them… I mean, down with them. I know that sounds crazy, but they’re in it with them. They knew of one other woman they sold to the group on the north side, but none that are being forced to be there except that one and themselves.”
“Well that’s something at least,” Mike said. “I’d say we’ve put away a few ourselves, and of course they’ve been killing each other all day long. If there were a little more than twenty, there can’t be more than ten after today, maybe twelve… Can’t be. We can handle that. I’d rather not handle that, but we ca
n. And they’ve had their asses kicked a few times today. I don’t see them coming back for anymore surprise attacks tonight, maybe even tomorrow. So we sleep tonight. We only have a few hours to do that, then we have to relieve the others, I’m sure they’re beat too.”
“We sleep, and tomorrow we try to contact them by radio. See if they want to end this before they lose more. At least what they’re bringing at us,” Mike finished.
“What made you think of radios?” Candace asked.
“Because,” Ronnie answered, “It was like they were listening to the other guys and us too. They knew what was going on, where the others were, where we were too. Why else did they come at us up top? They might just be laying back, playing stupid, but I think they’re listening,” Ronnie finished.
“I think so to,” Mike agreed. “I don’t think they thought we’d be up top, if so they would’ve come at us harder. They didn’t expect us to be there, but I know they were looking to sneak up on us. They thought they had us. I hope they take out each other. They started to do that today.” He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I think they’re listening on the radios too. They showed up way too fast, and why would we think of radios and not them? The other group was using it too. It makes no sense that they wouldn’t have been, but if they tried it, why weren’t they talking today?” He shook his head. “I’m convinced they were using it as a tool to catch the other group out there, us too. So, I say tomorrow we test that theory out. Prove it, or disprove it. That’s easy enough to do. We can decide what to do from there,” Mike finished.
Everyone nodded thoughtfully.
“Good. I’m beat. Let’s get some sleep while we can,” Mike said.
Janet ~ March 24th Early Morning
I spent the entire day in fear, nonstop. It almost would’ve been better to have been in the fight yesterday. Instead, I was on the sidelines always wondering what was going on.
