Best Laid Plans (Book 5): Determination

by Nathan Jones

  Trev listened in with the others. He had a bit of practice with moving quietly in the night, but it was definitely something he could stand to improve on. Just in case he ever needed it. And if he found time the recruits could benefit from the knowledge as well.

  Nighttime combat was still something he hadn't covered with them, but they'd probably face it at some point.

  The party wound down after another hour or so, well before sundown. As much as the Aspen Hill visitors enjoyed catching up with everyone, not to mention being the heroes of the hour, Lewis wasn't the only one antsy about getting back to their duties protecting the town. Especially after kicking the proverbial hornet's nest.

  Trev, Matt, and the other volunteers from Aspen Hill came out to see them on their way, as they reclaimed the truck they'd be taking back with them from the pair of Marines guarding it. There were handshakes and hugs all around, especially where Matt and Trev were concerned, then the small group piled into the vehicle.

  The engine roared to life, Lucas behind the wheel honked a couple times in farewell, and with a few last waves the vehicle rumbled its way back up Highway 31 headed for home.

  From the looks on the faces around him, Trev had a feeling he wasn't the only one wishing he could've gone with them. Not permanently, maybe, since he wasn't about to abandon his duties here, but just for a visit. And there were volunteers who had a lot more pulling them back home than he did.

  He moved a step closer to Matt, who was still waving. “I'm sure I would've heard if there was news, but you got a good chance to talk to your dad about your family. How is everyone?”

  His friend gave him a tight smile. “Under the circumstances? Terry's swamped with minor illnesses, people with the sniffles from the stress of abandoning their homes and living up in the mountains in inadequate shelter. April and Sam have been helping as much as they can, while Mom watches the kids and keeps an eye on the animals.”

  “And Sam?”

  “She's reporting a bit of discomfort. Nothing out of the ordinary for a woman almost five months pregnant, but I think it's scaring her a bit.” Matt looked a bit scared himself. “It's her first child, and we don't have the luxury of modern medical care. Not to mention four more months could put us smack dab in the middle of a nuclear winter.”

  Trev nodded his understanding. That wasn't a minor concern. Childbirth complications had been a serious risk throughout human history, and only within the last few generations had improved medical practices changed that. Sam was a petite woman, and conditions were anything but ideal.

  She wouldn't be the first childbirth since the Gulf burned, but of the handful of other women who'd given birth there had been some saddening results: even with Terry's best efforts one mother had died shortly afterwards due to complications, and another had lost the child. They'd been severely malnourished, which hopefully was something Sam no longer had to worry about, but even so the danger was real.

  He rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. “We'll be home before then,” he promised. “Or if not all of us then you at least.” Matt nodded but didn't answer, still looking north. After an awkward silence Trev dropped his hand. “I'm not feeling much like heading back to the celebration. You?”

  “No.” Matt turned his way. “I was thinking of getting our squads together for some nighttime training. Lewis's raid proves that night combat is probably going to happen at some time. If not because we go out seeking a fight in the dark, then because there's nothing stopping the blockheads from trying their hand at it.”

  Trev nodded. “Well everyone's conveniently here. Let's get started.”

  Chapter Three

  Aspen Grove

  Matt moved carefully along the game trail, leading four of his squad mates.

  Even with scoped rifles, the most important part of hunting was not spooking the prey. From five feet or five hundred the slightest noise, the slightest motion, could send the target bounding away while he was still lining up the shot.

  And given what they faced, they didn't have any shots to waste. Lack of caution could lose them a bullet and meat on the hoof both.

  Slow and careful, the way Lewis and Jane had taught him that spring. Then he'd gone out with grim determination every hunt, knowing he had a starving family that needed him to bring home meat. A starving wife with a baby on the way.

  A camp full of fighters that needed feeding didn't tug on the heartstrings quite as much. But if they didn't eat they couldn't fight, and if they couldn't fight they couldn't stop the blockheads. His loved ones would be right in the enemy's path if Davis and his people fell, with no one left to protect them. And that did tug at the heartstrings.

  So he'd bag every bit of game in these woods, just like he'd been trying to do for the last five days since the sergeant assigned him to the southern slope.

  His squad had produced better results than he'd expected at the start. Matt wasn't sure if the nuclear winter effect had slowed the spring migration of deer and elk back up into the mountains, which had been well underway long before the Retaliation happened, or if the influx of so many humans into the valley had scared the game into less crowded and noisy locations.

  Either way he wasn't complaining, because it meant they were bringing in meat every day and improving the situation in the camp. Even better, while they'd seen a few squads of Gold Bloc soldiers nosing around along the roads in the valley below, none of them had made any attempts to push up the slopes. His squad hadn't been forced to fight yet.

  Of course he should've known good fortune was the exception and not the rule, the way the world was now. Because while he was creeping along that trail, only a few hours into the morning shift, the warning from his lookouts that he'd been dreading finally arrived.

  “Matt,” Pete hissed. “We've got blockheads headed our way, at least a dozen. They just disappeared into the scrub oak around the hills below the slope.”

  Those hills were near the southern edge of the area Davis had given them to protect, where everywhere else the slope gave way straight to the valley below. The cover made them a good place to approach from.

  Matt toggled his radio. “Got it. Hear that, everyone? Head for the southern emplacement.” Gutierrez, leading the other team, responded that he was on his way, and Matt continued. “All but you, Ben. I want you to stick around in case they send more people through your area, so you can call ahead to Davis for reinforcements.”

  “Got it,” Ben replied. At the moment they had two lookout positions going, Pete to the south and Ben to the north, the same ones the sergeant's lookouts had used before he'd made this forested slope Matt's responsibility. But even with the lookouts everyone was expected to keep an eye on their surroundings and the valley below, just in case.

  Matt waved the rest of his team forward. They'd split into two teams for hunting, starting north roughly a hundred yards apart and sweeping south side by side. At the moment they were in roughly the middle of the zone Davis had assigned them to guard, which meant they had half a mile through tightly packed forest densely blanketed with deadfall to cover.

  Or would, if they hadn't spent the previous weeks clearing trails for faster travel.

  Scott nodded and led their team south at a run while Matt hung back to call in the news to Davis. They'd reach the southern emplacement in less than five minutes, which he hoped was fast enough.

  It only took a a few seconds to relay the pertinent details. “Do you need help?” the sergeant immediately asked when he was done.

  Matt hesitated. “I'm not sure.”

  “I'll take that as a yes. I'm sending Abrams with a mixed squad of Marines and volunteers your way. I want you to call in immediately if things start going bad out there, and don't be afraid to fall back if you have to.” Davis paused. “In fact, if you want to keep up a running update on the action right from the start that might be best.”

  “Got it. I'll let Abrams know if he needs to change direction or if there's anything else he needs to know.” Matt th
umbed off the transmitter's toggle, breaking into a run down the trail after Scott and the others. He pushed hard and caught up to them in under a minute, and together they continued on.

  The southern emplacement was one of a dozen they'd set up to along the mile long area, covering the routes an enemy was most likely to approach along. Since this one was at the southern end of their zone, Matt had them spend a bit of extra time improving it. Just in case anyone making forays farther south got into deep water.

  He would've been just as happy if the blockheads had stayed in the valley. But if they were going to make their way into the mountains, that emplacement was one of the more ideal locations to deal with them.

  As they hustled to reach the spot in time, Pete kept up a running report on the progress the blockheads were making. The enemy wasn't in any hurry, it sounded like, since they were doing their best not to be noticed. Matt was glad Pete had spotted them before they began creeping through the woods, or they might've posed a much bigger threat. One his squad might not have been able to handle.

  It turned out that they got to the emplacement with plenty of time to spare setting up their ambush. The dug out fortification overlooked one of the few areas of the hillside that wasn't quite so steep, and rather than dense evergreens the slope was dominated by aspen. The widely spaced, airy maze of straight white trunks were mostly clear of deadfall and undergrowth, and that visibility would make anyone passing through the location more vulnerable.

  While setting up the emplacement Matt had accepted that a cautious enemy would likely go around the aspen grove, rather than through it. So he'd worked under the assumption that the enemy would stick to the steeper evergreen-clad slopes to either side. It meant the blockheads would have more cover to work with, but hopefully knowing exactly where they were would be enough to balance that out.

  Since the Gold Bloc soldiers could choose multiple approaches, that made it all the more important that Pete keep an eye on which way they were going. At the moment the young man reported that the enemy was moving up the slope a bit north of the aspens, so Matt had his people set up on the northern end of the emplacement. That was good, since that spot was a bit more open and had a better view between the trees below.

  Once they were ready there wasn't much to do but wait until the enemy came to them.

  “It's about time we see some action,” Pete whispered as he came up beside Matt. He'd abandoned his more vulnerable lookout spot once the enemy was close enough he might be spotted; they'd soon be in sight of the emplacement itself.

  “Been looking forward to this?” Gutierrez asked from farther down the line.

  The young man grinned fiercely. “Are you kidding? Ever since Lewis took out those blockheads at his shelter, I've been waiting for my chance to take a swing at the enemy. Bagging deer is nice, but I'd rather gun down the guys murdering Americans wherever they find them.”

  Matt made a sharp gesture for quiet. “They're in sight,” he hissed. “Remember people, this is an ambush. No noise. And stay out of sight until I give the signal.”

  In spite of his warning he only saw the one blockhead. He needed Pete's help to identify a few more spread out through the trees, making their way up the slope. The advance scouts for the larger party. Even with that help they were hard to pick out through the trees.

  Matt had to hand it to the Gold Bloc soldiers. They moved slowly and stayed to cover, obviously wary of an ambush. They seemed to know what they were doing, too, to the point that he only caught glimpses of them and could easily believe that half the enemy scouts went unseen.

  Unfortunately for the blockheads they had two serious disadvantages. First of all, even the best skulkers couldn't stay concealed forever when they were on the move. And by the same token since Matt's squad was already in place, waiting silently for the enemy, staying concealed was much, much easier.

  The second disadvantage was that the enemy didn't know this terrain, while he and his people had spent weeks going over it constantly. The blockheads wouldn't know the likely ambush spots, and conversely Matt could guess where the enemy soldiers were moving concealed even though he couldn't see or hear them.

  After a minute or so of watching the soldiers approach Matt had to assume that Pete had been, understandably, wrong about the numbers. Going by the guess that he could only pick out half of them, there were at least two dozen of the enemy down there. Although he doubted he'd be able to confirm that number until they sprung their ambush, if even then.

  His heart was pounding, his hands shaking. This was it. Davis and his Marines weren't here to help, or even any of the other volunteers. It was just his squad, possibly outnumbered two to one, with only the advantage of surprise and a superior position to see them through the day.

  Even against the raiders there'd always been the comfort of knowing he had the whole town at his back, so they heavily outnumbered Turner's people. Here there was no such comfort. Abrams and his reinforcements were coming, sure, but at best they'd still be minutes away when the blockheads reached the ideal ambush spot. Matt couldn't wait on that.

  The forward scouts reached the aspen grove. As Matt had predicted they split around it, to stick to the better concealment of the densely forested slopes to either side. This close it was easy to scope their exact location, and he could've taken any of them out with a shot. From Pete's expectant look it was obvious the young man was hoping for just that.

  Matt waited. No point ambushing the scouts and letting the rest of the blockheads slip away. Or, even worse, circle around and flank them once they gave away their location.

  The scouts finished skirting the grove and paused upslope of it, reporting in on their radios. At first Matt wasn't sure why, but then to his delight he saw that the rest of the blockheads were breaking from cover to move between the aspens, darting quickly from one white trunk to the next on their way up the hillside.

  The scouts had given the all clear on the grove, and the rest of the blockheads were risking the open ground so they wouldn't have to laboriously pick their way over the deadfall beneath the evergreens. Matt didn't blame them, since negotiating the clogged terrain slowed your pace to a crawl and presented its own risks. Still, he could barely believe their good luck.

  Everyone turned to him expectantly, and Matt irritably motioned for them to focus on picking out targets until he gave the order to fire. He'd wait until the blockheads were near the top of the open area. That was partly so his people would have clear shots, which even the widely spaced aspen trunks would partially obscure deeper in.

  But mostly it was so the enemy would be stuck with the unpleasant choice: of either bolting the rest of the way forward to safer cover against a hail of bullets, or retreating back the way they'd come. A much farther distance out in the relative openness between the aspen trunks.

  Experience and the advice of competent people had driven home the point that timing was important, and he was going to make sure he put that lesson to best use here.

  One nice thing about the enemy moving out into the open was that he could finally get a read on their numbers. As he'd predicted, Pete's guess of a dozen was off by almost half. It was closer to twenty blockheads heading up the slope towards them, a full two dozen if he counted the scouts.

  Speaking of which; Matt focused his own sights on one of the scouts, since they were already behind better cover and would pose a bigger threat once the fight started. The rest of his squad could handle the blockheads in the grove.

  He waited a few more seconds for the blockhead stragglers to get high enough up into the aspens, sighting on his target all the while. By that time the scouts were getting ready to move out again, so they could stay ahead of the main force of blockheads. Which meant he was about out of time; it would be better to start this while they were still unmoving, easy targets.

  “Fire,” he said, quietly but clearly. He suited his words by squeezing the trigger.

  His target went down with a shot to the throat, and Matt immedia
tely swung his weapon to the next nearest scout. All around him he heard the reports of more rifles as his squad opened fire.

  Down below chaos erupted as blockheads dropped with screams of pain, accompanied by cries of alarm and warning shouts from their companions. Soldiers ducked behind the inadequate cover of spindly aspen trunks or bolted for something better, many making themselves easy targets just long enough to take a bullet of their own.

  The braver or better positioned ones returned fire, including the scouts, but doing so only made them immediate targets. Such as the second enemy Matt aimed for, who popped out with his rifle pointing at someone farther down the emplacement. That put him in profile, and Matt hit him in the shoulder just below the protection of his flak jacket. The man dropped with a strangled cry, weapon flying away.

  As he searched for signs of another scout popping out of hiding he heard a yell of pain from down the line. It sounded like Carl Mitchell, who the defenders all called by his last name to not confuse him with Carl Raymond. His guess was confirmed when Mitchell's buddy Eddy Hanson cursed and began calling for help.

  “Stay down and don't make yourself a target!” he hissed. “Do what you can for him and I'll call in for help.”

  He wasn't sure what help the sergeant could offer, since they were far off any road. Hopefully Abrams had brought someone who knew a bit of combat triage with him, so they could get Mitchell stable long enough to carry him back to camp.

  Assuming they won this. Assuming there weren't more wounded before it was over.

  Matt fired a few more times, sure he didn't hit anything, then dropped down and toggled his radio. “We've got wounded, Abrams.”

  The private swore. “Hold tight, we'll be there in five. Stabilize them until then. Have you eliminated the enemy?”

  “Getting there. Just a sec.” Matt toggled off the radio, moved a few feet along the emplacement, and popped up enough to see. The firefight was still going strong, but it looked as if they'd taken out over half the enemy. Those who remained had found better cover among the tree trunks and deadfall and were pinned down, returning fire where they could. He reported that in.