by Nathan Jones
The trucks were their exit strategy, not to mention a prize in and of themselves. Lewis had realized from the first that trying to sneak away after the raid would be ten times as risky as sneaking in had been. So the plan had depended entirely on getting their hands on the vehicles, even if they had to rush them under fire if things went wrong.
If need be they could've tried hiding in the tunnel until things quieted down, or running under the cover of the remaining darkness. But either of those options was a disaster in the making.
After just a few trips his dad, Uncle George, and Martin split up and made their way over to each of the two new log houses and the shipping container. Once positioned at the entrances they pulled Molotov cocktails from their backpacks and crouched beside the doors, waiting with lighters ready.
It was possible the blockheads would have more useful stuff in those three structures, but the defenders had already been wildly successful with this raid and Lewis didn't intend to push his luck. Especially not with dawn not far away. Besides, he wasn't sure he was up for repeating what he'd done in the shelter just yet, even if burning was a worse way to go.
After what seemed like an eternity of watching the surrounding area and waiting his radio crackled with Travis Marsh's quiet voice. “We're ready.”
Lewis checked the trucks below. Sure enough, his people had gotten everything loaded into the five available vehicles and were waiting in the cabs. “Copy that, we're on our way,” he said. Jane had already vaulted out of the observation post and was booking it down the hillside, and he hurried to follow.
With a soft whoosh the six Molotovs were lit, one after another, making the three men who held them somewhat painful to look at through night vision. Lewis tore the goggles off and stuffed them into their pocket on his combat vest, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the early morning light. Almost immediately afterwards the trucks roared to life.
His dad, uncle, and Martin threw open the doors of the houses and shipping container, almost at the same time. They each flung first one, then another burning Molotov inside. Martin completed his task by slamming the shipping container door shut and ramming down the bolts on it to trap the blockheads inside, while the other two simply slammed their doors shut on the expanding fireballs and sprinted for the trucks.
Showing fairly good timing, the two lookout teams reached the vehicles only a few steps behind the firebomb team, and Jane actually beat them to it. They threw themselves into the backs of the nearest vehicles, with Lewis the last one on. As he pulled himself up inside Jane was already radioing the drivers to go.
The truck lurched beneath him, tires peeling out slightly as they roared away from the shelter at the best acceleration the heavy vehicle could manage. Lewis fell onto the bench and used it to keep his balance as he stared out the back, watching the growing fireballs of the houses and the smoke belching from the air vents on the shipping container. He couldn't help the sense of loss he felt at the sight.
That was his home, something he'd built himself and one of his proudest accomplishments. It was where he'd been able to protect and shelter family and friends. Where he'd begun his married life with Jane and built happy memories with her. Where he'd been reunited with parents and sister and aunt and uncle and cousins he'd feared he'd never see again. It was the place he'd built all his plans for the future around, even during the times he'd been forced to leave.
Would he ever live there again? And if he did, how would he do it haunted by tonight's memories?
Nostalgia and a sense of loss aside, Lewis had more reasons to regret looking back when he saw burning figures hurl themselves from one of the houses, then drop to desperately roll on the ground. He quickly looked away, feeling queasy.
The plan had gone off without a hitch. They'd stolen the weapons, gear, and supplies of dozens of soldiers, along with five trucks and anyone's guess how much fuel. They'd also eliminated those dozens of threats without losing a single person. It was hard to think of any way the raid could've gone better.
Even so, the mood of those in the truck with him was somber as they roared towards Aspen Hill Canyon. Lewis could be satisfied by how things had gone tonight, but it was hard to feel proud of it. Although he had and still did firmly believe it was necessary, he wished it hadn't been.
It would've been better if the blockheads had just decided enough was enough after the Retaliation, and focused on their own rebuilding efforts. Instead they'd opted for pushing the fight to every corner of the country they'd invaded, seeking vengeance and more territory. It was on their heads when their victims used violence to defend themselves.
The trucks rumbled on towards safety at the fastest possible speed. Rather than heading directly for the canyon, the drivers cut due west from their position to reach the road nearest the foothills. With any luck that would take them to safety as far as possible from the blockheads set up to guard the canyon's mouth.
There was a good chance they'd had managed to carry out the attack on the shelter without any of the enemy radioing in a warning, and even if other enemy soldiers had seen the fires there might be some confusion about what was going on and where the threat was.
If their luck held the soldiers ahead might hesitate to fire on what looked like friendly vehicles, letting them escape without coming under attack. But even if they did have to dodge a few bullets the line of sight would be bad for the enemy, and once they were past them and into the canyon that was the last hurdle they had to worry about and they'd be home free.
Assuming the blockheads didn't try to pursue them. But even after the night's events Lewis doubted they could possibly be that lucky. The chance to use the demolitions charges Graham had set up to destroy the road, dropping an entire cliff on whatever vehicles chased them, was too much to hope for.
His prediction about the enemy being slow to get a clue about what was going on was a good one. The volunteers in the truck cabs radioed back to let them know that the vehicles' built-in radios were full of chatter in another language, unintelligible but sounding confused.
It was impossible for them to tell if any of the questions or commands that broke through the chatter were directed at the five trucks making a beeline for the canyon. But as they sped along nobody opened fire on them, and no enemy trucks appeared in the distance speeding towards them.
At least until they reached the canyon road. Up to then they'd traveled with no sound but the roar of the engines, the jouncing of the trucks, and the rattling of loose supplies in the bed around him. But as Lewis watched the valley below out the back, looking for signs of anything out of the ordinary, he saw six trucks roar out from the emplacement guarding the mouth of the canyon.
“Heads up,” he said into his radio. “We've got incoming.”
The others in the back of the truck tensed up, crowding the entrance with their weapons as the truck lurched into a higher gear, pushing for the best speed the heavy vehicle could manage up the incline.
“They're not stupid enough to follow us, are they?” Uncle George asked. “Even if they didn't suspect we've got charges set to destroy the road, we can set up along any bend and shoot them to pieces. And for all they know we could already have people waiting to ambush them in the canyon with the Browning M2. And they don't even know about our missile launchers.”
He was right, it turned out the blockheads weren't stupid. The half dozen vehicles didn't take the bait and follow them up the canyon road, which wasn't too surprising considering their previous caution. Instead they found a convenient hill along the road Lewis's volunteers had taken to reach the canyon, a safe distance from its mouth.
Even as he watched the trucks arranged their vehicles in a line, to protect the enemy soldiers who poured out of the trucks and began setting up fortifications there. He guessed that hill would become a permanent emplacement, to block against anyone else who tried to take that route. And sure enough, as the truck Lewis was in went out of view around a switchback, he saw that the blockheads were dig
ging trenches and filling sandbags.
Lewis didn't mind that, though. In fact, he'd even planned for it; there was no downside to the enemy not coming into the canyon, and if they thought they were safe on that hill they had a nasty surprise coming. Although that was an opportunity for another day; right now he was just happy with how things had gone on this raid.
Besides, he had to make sure to make the most of those sorts of opportunities, which meant careful planning.
Even with his most optimistic predictions, Lewis expected the blockheads to react quicker to any attacks than the Aspen Hill defenders had. As professional soldiers they'd probably be better trained to deal with them, and more quick to find a way to do so. That meant he needed to make every attack count, but he also couldn't afford to get too daring since at any moment he could get outmaneuvered or outthought.
Not to mention the blockheads had at least one helicopter, the one that had attacked Davis's group down along Highway 31. That chopper had wreaked havoc with little to no risk to itself, killing several fighters and destroying Aspen Hill's second Browning M2, donated to the sergeant by Matt's volunteers.
If Lewis's raids were too effective in attacking the blockheads entrenched in their town, there was every possibility the enemy might send the helicopter over. If they did it could blow them up from the sky, with nowhere to run or hide.
Lewis could admit that the possibility genuinely terrified him. It was the difference between when the town had fought Turner's few dozen raiders, even though they were well equipped, and fighting the armed forces of another country.
He had no idea how to even begin trying to deal with an attack helicopter, and Matt's account of Gutierrez scaring it off with missiles wasn't reassuring. It had been relatively close and hovering fairly stable when the former soldier missed. It would've learned from that close call, too, and next time would stay farther back and use its weapons from a safe distance.
Turner, with his trucks shooting missiles from a mile away, had nothing on a helicopter that could do the same thing from even farther up in the sky. If a chopper did come after them there was no preparing, no clever tricks that would save them. Their best bet would be to hunker down someplace relatively protected and hope the bird missed with whatever it threw at them, then went away.
That solution didn't satisfy him at all, but he honestly couldn't think of an alternative.
During the scare with the trucks following them Jane had settled down across from him, seemingly in her own world wiping her hands over and over on her uniform pant legs. She was wearing an expression of distaste.
She wasn't the only one. As they got farther and farther into the safety of the canyon his dad scooted down the bench to sit beside him. He started to put a hand on Lewis's shoulder, then looked at the hand and hesitated.
“We need to get washed up,” he said. He sounded more tired than distasteful.
Lewis nodded. “You did good.” He raised his voice for the others. “All of you did.”
Uncle George, sitting up near the cab, paused in rubbing wearily at his eyes underneath the night vision goggles, then took them off completely. Their imprint gave him an owlish look, and his expression was hard to read. “Yeah, we did good,” he said. “If it had to be done, we did good.”
There were a few murmurs of agreement from the others, then everyone seemed to fall into their own thoughts. Jane came over and leaned against him, switching places with her father-in-law, and Lewis put an arm around his wife and continued staring out the back.
Before too long they drove high enough up the steep switchbacking road to meet the first rays of the morning sun peeking over the horizon to the east. Down below he could see blockhead vehicles converging on the burning buildings around the shelter, the few that had already arrived disgorging soldiers to scour the area. There'd be no good news for them.
At the top of the canyon Catherine Tillman was waiting with a group of defenders, just in case, and his dad had entrusted her with the detonator during the raid. She and those with her looked delighted to see they'd all returned and had brought so much with them, and there was a bit of a celebration as they stopped the trucks and piled out. A mostly one-sided celebration, admittedly, with the volunteers still subdued by the night's events.
“This went better than I could've ever hoped,” the Mayor admitted, stepping away from embracing her daughter to rap the hood of the nearest truck with her knuckles. “I was half afraid I wouldn't see any of you again.”
“What we managed to bring back should help the town,” Lewis offered.
Catherine nodded, although her eyes strayed to the fires visible below. “We'll just have to see if it's worth whatever the enemy response will be.” She shrugged and turned back to him a bit apologetically. “Sorry, don't mean to rain on your parade. How about you and your volunteers head back to the refuge and get some rest? We'll stay here and keep watch on the blockheads, just in case they get any ideas of hitting back.”
Lewis had no arguments. He was exhausted, and nothing sounded better than washing up and crashing until sometime that afternoon. He motioned to his people, who returned to their new vehicles while he hopped in the back of the one they'd come up in with Jane and the others.
To his surprise Uncle George waved for them to go on without him, insisting he wasn't tired and preferred to stay behind for a while. It was his decision to make. Maybe he had the same problems sleeping Lewis did, or maybe he was afraid he'd have problems sleeping for another reason.
Either way Lewis wasn't about to go looking for anything that kept him from getting some much needed rest. He'd probably have to assign some defenders to guard the vehicles and the stuff in them once they got to the refuge, but hopefully that would be the full extent of his duties and then he could crash.
Although to be fair, he supposed these days there was never a reason to complain about having supplies, weapons, and vehicles worth defending. Even if guarding them ended up being a hassle.
The raid couldn't have gone better, and he intended to make sure the next one went just as well.
Chapter Two
Visitors
Visiting trucks weren't common, but they came around the camp every now and again. Which was why the arrival of three heading southeast down Highway 31 caused a commotion rather than an uproar.
Then again, none of the other visiting trucks had been obviously Gold Bloc. With the exception of the one Vernon had brought, which was currently parked near the command tent with Davis's other vehicles. So the approach of three potentially enemy trucks coming from the wrong direction did come close to an uproar.
At least enough of one that Trev paused in instructing an older volunteer on how to properly reassemble her M16, turning to watch as the vehicles pulled into camp. The fact that none of the Marines were freaking out at the sudden arrival suggested that the visitors had called in their approach, so there was no reason for him to freak out either.
Or so he thought, until he saw Lewis hop down from the driver's side of the lead vehicle.
“Rick, you're in charge!” Trev yelled, bolting for the main camp and leaving the training grounds behind without a second look. His cousin saw him coming, and barely paused to shake the hands of the Marines who came to greet his group before trotting over to meet him halfway. He left behind Jane, Ed Larson, and Uncle Lucas all still getting out of the blockhead vehicles.
And Trev's dad, who hopped down from the cab of the second truck behind his brother-in-law and, seeing Trev approaching, made a beeline for him hot on Lewis's heels. Jane, Lucas, and Ed stayed back watching the trucks and talking with the Marines, and after Trev exchanged backslapping hugs with his cousin and dad they gravitated in that direction, talking the entire time. Once they reached the trucks he hugged his uncle and shook Ed's hand, and was surprised when Jane offered a handshake too.
The first minute or so of the reunion was a confused babble of questions and snippets of news, along with exclamations of surprise. The big su
rprise on the new arrivals' end was hearing that Fred Vernon was in camp, along with their stolen truck. The big surprise on Trev's end was the three trucks the group had arrived in, although he was content to do a bit of catching up before asking about them. He let Matt's dad know that his son was patrolling to the south, and offered to walk out there with him to say hello.
Finally, though, Trev stepped back and looked past everyone at the vehicles. “Where on Earth did you get three blockhead trucks?”
“Five, actually,” Lewis said, leaning back against the hood. “Two of these, and half the supplies, are a gift, while we'll drive back in the third. We figured it was only fair we do an even split between you guys down here and the town. Consider it a contribution to put you in a bit better position . . . I imagine you can use all the help you can get.”
“I won't argue that.” Trev stepped over to lean against the truck next to him. “Didn't answer my question, though.”
His cousin clapped him on the shoulder. “The convoy that moved into Aspen Hill set up an outpost at the shelter. Eighty or so troops and eight trucks to man sentry positions, patrols, and permanent strategic emplacements north and west of town.” His mouth tightened. “They would've been literally sleeping in our beds if we hadn't taken them with us.”
Trev could imagine Lewis's blood boiling at that. “You attacked them?”
“A raid just before dawn this morning.” Lewis paused to greet Rick and the rest of Trev's squad, who'd also broken away from the training grounds to come and say hello.
They all wanted to hear about the raid, too, so his cousin quickly described the morning's attack. How they'd snuck into the shelter through the escape tunnel and taken out everyone inside, then gone on to steal the trucks and what supplies they could while firebombing the other buildings.
