by Nathan Jones
And while he wouldn't have minded having the .50 caliber heavy machine gun or the missile launcher, he could accept that Williams's and Matt's squads along 31 needed them more.
Matt's voice came over his earphones. “You guys set up, Trev?”
He toggled his radio. “Yeah, since last night. You?”
“Ready as we'll ever be.” His friend paused for a few seconds. “Be careful out there.”
Before Trev could answer Davis's voice barked in his ear. “Keep the airwaves clear! We've already caught sight of the blockhead forward scouts, and their main army should be in sight of our far lookouts any minute now.”
Trev sighed and settled back in his emplacement, moving his shoulders to loosen the tension in them. He'd trained his squad the best he knew how. They'd spent weeks preparing this canyon for ambushes. They had the best gear Aspen Hill could provide them. Reinforcements were available if they really needed them.
Still, a dozen people. Against a hundred thousand. Not entirely accurate, but it was hard not to think like that. They could end up facing however many soldiers the blockheads decided to throw at them, and that could be a very, very big number.
* * * * *
They received radio warning long before the Gold Bloc forces ever came into view.
First that a large portion of the enemy army had split off onto Highway 6 well to the east, heading towards Price. They only knew about it because the convoy of hundreds of enemy trucks was nearly to the abandoned county seat and had been spotted by lookouts up there. Which meant that their families back in Aspen Hill could soon be in danger.
The second warning came soon afterwards of the main convoy's first sighting along I-70, then of another large portion of those forces splitting off onto Highway 10, which branched off northward from the interstate and ran just east of the mountains, allowing the blockheads to scour every potential canyon between Emery and Huntington.
The enemy was met with resistance at every one, including some heartening accounts of several trucks being crushed beneath rockfalls and rockslides. For the moment it seemed they weren't in the mood to abandon their vehicles and try to secure any of the canyons on foot, instead continuing on to the next potential road to test it out. Each one delayed the blockheads, and those delays added up, but it was only a matter of time before they reached Huntington.
Matt definitely appreciated the advance notice, but it had its drawbacks too. Now that they were set up in their positions all that was left to do was wait, sitting there in a tense silence that was half fear and half anticipation. Which seemed to last forever while they watched to see whether the enemy would try to come up Highway 31 or pass them by entirely.
He was doing his best to keep his cool under the pressure of that interminable wait, but not everyone was managing it. “There's no way they'll take 31,” Rick said for maybe the tenth time since the squad had settled into their emplacement hours ago. “It's too small a bottleneck.”
Even though Matt wanted to do his part protecting what was left of the country, it was hard not to hope his friend was right. But he had to be the voice of reason. “There's only so many ways to get through this range, and 31 is one of the most reliable. We'll probably have to turn back scouts if nothing else, and if General Lassiter or our people up near Spanish Fork Canyon hold the blockheads back like we're all hoping, that means they're going to start really looking for another way past. Like it or not, we should expect to see enemies coming our way.”
“Let them come,” Pete said, hefting his M16. “We didn't spend all this time climbing around and digging on these steep hillsides for the fun of it.”
Matt was glad the young man had control of his fear, although he wasn't sure if he should be. Pete had been on edge ever since his dad died, and during the fight with the raiders Matt had been afraid a few times his friend might lose it. Like when he'd clocked Turner with the butt of his rifle. Other reckless behavior, like when he'd gone riding off on his own while going after the sheep, only added to Matt's worry.
He'd probably want to pull his friend aside for a talk once things settled down a bit.
News continued to reach them over the radio during the interminable wait, and his squad eagerly listened to every tidbit. For the moment most of that was from down south, but the northwest and northeast Gold Bloc armies continued to close on northern Utah like a nutcracker that could begin the squeeze at any time from hours to days.
Along I-70 Lassiter had ordered his people not to engage the enemy until the blockhead convoy was in the mountains. Part of that was to draw them in as far as he could so his attack would do the most possible damage, but another part of it was that many of the towns in Carbon and Emery counties had refused to evacuate until the last second when they were sure it was necessary, and their people were still struggling to get to safety.
The General was afraid that anything that slowed the enemy convoys might give them a reason to spread out and begin searching the area, which would put civilians in harm's way. Given the brutality the blockheads had shown since the Retaliation, even to innocents, that was something they needed to avoid at all costs. Especially since the convoys would be even less reasonable with anyone they caught if they'd just been turned back by a surprise attack.
Like they'd be unreasonable if they successfully managed to come up 31 and took any of the fighters there as prisoners. Yet another grim reminder that Matt's squad and the rest of Davis's people needed to hit them hard and turn them back, since if anyone got caught they couldn't expect much mercy.
Word finally reached them that Lassiter had engaged the convoy moving along I-70, and the fighting turned brutal. First reports had thousands dead on both sides within the first ten minutes. And still Matt and his friends waited for the enemy to reach their own ambush in the mountains.
After what seemed like an eternity their advance lookouts confirmed sighting the convoy coming up 10, then began booking it for the safety of the mountains as quickly and stealthily as possible. Not long after that Williams, with his 2nd Squad on the north slope of the canyon, confirmed sighting the enemy nearing Huntington.
Matt heard some of his squad mates begin grumbling as their companions on the radio described what they saw. From their vantage point on the south slope his squad's view was blocked by the spur of the ridge to the east of them, and even Huntington to the southeast was barely in view. The convoy was pulling into the town itself before Pete stiffened and shouted that he saw the enemy trucks.
Everyone around him went absolutely still and silent, as if hardly daring to breathe for fear of alerting the vehicles in the distance. The reflexive action was completely irrational, and also completely understandable.
The trucks kept coming, one after another. By the tens, and finally by the hundreds. There were even a few tanks in the middle of the column, looking unwieldy but menacing navigating through the small streets of Huntington.
“That's a lot of people,” Rick said quietly. The younger man looked at the rocky north slope where Graham's specialists had hidden the explosives, as if imagining dozens of trucks and the hundreds of soldiers inside all being buried in the rockslide.
“A lot of corpses, if they keep coming,” Pete shot back.
Matt winced at his friend's words, as well as his tone. He could've done without that sort of bloodthirstiness. Yes, the Gold Bloc troops were their enemies, and after massacring every single innocent US citizen they encountered if anyone deserved to pay for their crimes it was them. But it was a necessity, not something to look forward to.
He couldn't see how anyone could have a taste for bloodshed after the unimaginable number of people that had already died in such a short time since the Retaliation.
“They chose to attack us,” he said, trying not to sound too harsh, “but we can't let ourselves enjoy killing them. If they come up that canyon they'll leave us no choice but to fight, but it's not something to be happy about. What happens after that will be on their heads.”
&
nbsp; “Literally,” Pete muttered, glancing at the rocky slope across from them. He didn't seem too abashed by the gentle rebuke.
For a moment Matt considered calling the young man out, but now was a bad time to get into something like that. So he kept quiet along with the rest of his squad as they watched the line of vehicles continue to converge on the town.
It was soon apparent that Pete would get his wish, as the lead trucks in the enemy convoy turned onto Highway 31 and began making for the canyon. Behind them the following vehicles stretched all the way through town and out of sight along Highway 10, a seemingly endless line that kept on getting longer and longer.
Rick was right, it was a lot of people. And even if his head was in the wrong place Pete was, unfortunately, probably also right. Matt tried not to think of all the people he'd already been forced to kill to protect his friends and family in Aspen Hill, which would seem like minor skirmishes compared to what was about to happen.
If the blockheads turned back from the trap it would be a disaster, in its own way, but he found himself hoping they would even so. Hoping they'd turn back altogether, just go back to wherever they'd come from and stop all the senseless killing.
Only they couldn't really, since they didn't have any homes to go back to.
It didn't take long for the lead trucks to make their way up the canyon towards the ambush. Everyone around Matt went perfectly still as the vehicles came to within twenty feet of the rocky slope rigged with its charges. Then ten feet, then five, moving at a cautious pace the entire time.
Then, as if in answer to his wish, the two trucks stopped entirely, their front fenders even with the first few boulders on the slope. Moments later soldiers poured out of the backs, rifles in their hands, and began forming a defensive circle around the vehicle, calling to each other.
Beside him Pete stiffened. “Why are they stopping?” he hissed. “There's no way they could know!”
Matt motioned sharply for him to shut up. The soldiers below were hundreds of yards away and shouting at each other in Russian, so it was almost impossible they'd heard something that had barely reached his own ears. Still, better safe than sorry.
It was a good question though. Why stop there, in front of an innocuous rocky slope beside the road? You could find those all over the place, so it wasn't like it stood out as suspicious, and Graham had done a good job concealing the explosives.
Was it just paranoia? If so it was understandable that they'd be cautious, since this convoy had already been ambushed several times as they probed into the canyons between I-70 and here. And if they were in contact with their main convoy fighting Lassiter, and had heard how vicious the fighting was, they'd have even more reason to be wary.
Unfortunately their caution included metal detectors and German shepherds, likely trained to sniff for bombs. Matt watched in dismay as enemy soldiers picked their way up the slope through the boulders sweeping every square foot, dogs wagging their tails as they scrambled on ahead with their noses to the ground.
This was more than just the timid probes reports said they'd done in the canyons to the south. It seemed like the blockheads wanted 31, and they were going to put some serious effort into making it secure.
“Davis is going to have to detonate, even if we can't drop the hillside on the convoy like we planned,” Rick mumbled, almost too quietly to hear. He did a good job suppressing the “s” sounds that normally carried, too, and Matt made a note to do the same the next time he needed to talk quietly.
Which wasn't right now. There was a chance the soldiers across the canyon would miss the explosives, and he didn't want to blow it with a stray noise carried down to them. If the enemy gave the all clear and the convoy continued forward the ambush could still go as planned. It was a faint hope, but they couldn't afford to detonate early and pass up the potential damage they could cause.
Then one of the dogs began barking furiously, shoving its nose between the rocks at one of the locations where a charge had been set up. Soldiers called warnings to each other, some running towards the explosives as if planning to try to deactivate them, while most ran the other way.
At which point Davis decided to detonate.
* * * * *
The series of shaped explosions vibrated the air around Matt, and across the canyon the entire top of the rocky slope became a cataclysm of rock and flame rushing down the hillside, catching more rocks and the bodies of men and dogs with it in a massive rockslide. Boulders weighing more than Matt himself were hurled dozens of feet by the initial blasts, shattering as they struck more rocks below and speeding the slide.
Before the two idling lead blockhead trucks could even begin to back away they were physically lifted off the road and hurled across the canyon by the cresting wave of debris. Half a dozen trucks in the line behind them were hit by dozens of boulders larger than his head, spinning them across the road as they crumpled like they were made of foil.
Matt had seen explosions, and he'd seen large fires, and he'd watched Turner destroy dozens of houses. But that rockslide seemed beyond the hand of man, a primal force of nature that kept going and going, until the entire bottom of the canyon was buried in boulders and loose earth and shattered and uprooted trees at least ten feet deep. The noise alone would've been deafening without his earbuds, and around him his friends were covering their ears with pained expressions.
He didn't think anyone was considering the fight to come with all of that happening, too focused on the devastation. As he watched the shifting mass of rocks gradually begin grinding to a halt, seeing it through a thick haze of dust, he almost forgot why they'd set off the rockslide in the first place.
Then Davis shouted in his ear. “All squads, open fire!”
Matt gave a start and jerked his eyes away from the settling slope of debris that completely barred the way farther up the canyon. He expected to see the convoy hightailing it out of there with tires squealing, but to his alarm instead he saw soldiers boiling out of the backs of trucks all down the line.
He couldn't see how it was possible they weren't panicked by the explosion and landslide, but if so they didn't show it. The growing press of soldiers moved with good coordination to fan out on either side of the road.
At least until the M2 Browning, manned by one of Williams's people on the opposite slope, roared to life and began tearing into the packed enemy soldiers. It was quickly joined by 3-round burst fire from the Marines in that emplacement.
At that point the blockheads' coordination broke, enough that they bolted for cover before doing their best to return fire. Other enemy soldiers somehow managed to ignore the gunfire once they reached cover, and began slipping up the slope searching for ways to get at their enemies. Or at least looking for a better vantage for firing.
Meanwhile the empty trucks in the convoy had begun backing out and turning around in a coordinated fashion to escape the ambush, only to find themselves the target of the heavy machine gun as its hail of .50 BMG rounds walked back towards them in a devastating line. Several were taken out before the others got moving, and then the heavy gunner's attention was diverted by the hail of return fire coming his way.
All that happened within the first half minute, and even though the fight already seemed to have gone on for much longer Davis was still relaying specific instructions to the outer emplacements about dealing with any soldiers trying to flank them. Which on Matt's side of the ravine was a squad of volunteers positioned on the ridge above with a good view of the hillside all the way down. Their squad leader acknowledged the order, and moments later gunfire sounded from above Matt.
At about that time he realized that just about everyone in the canyon was firing, while he and his squad were gawking at the bright lights and loud noises. He grit his teeth and lifted his M16, shouting for his squad to do the same.
Things were already ugly, and they were about to get uglier. There were hundreds of blockheads down there, and if they were able to kill or drive away Matt's squad a
nd Davis's other forces they'd be free to begin clearing the road, and would probably call for reinforcements to come and help secure a way into the mountains.
General Lassiter might not be able to send help in time, and before they knew it the enemy would have a foothold behind the lines and would be that much closer to attacking the remaining US forces from behind.
There was also the fact that Matt and his friends would probably be dead by that point, and his family and friends from Aspen Hill would be pinned down with enemies on both sides. They had to hold here, whatever it took.
Pete had already begun firing, and Matt hurriedly sighted in on the soldiers nearest the road. They were searching for better cover farther off the road, but that still left far too many easy targets as he began squeezing off shots.
It was a long distance, shooting at moving targets hundreds of yards away, and the man he'd been specifically aiming for managed to reach his new spot of cover without taking a hit as far as Matt could tell. Which hardly mattered because two of the men around him went down to Matt's shots.
Explosions downslope meant that the enemy soldiers had managed to find the few mines Davis had scattered across the hillside, and he heard screams and flashes from below. Matt ignored them and kept shooting, determined that he wouldn't be distracted again, and for his effort was rewarded by seeing another target drop to one of his shots.
There were plenty more enemies to shoot at after that, and he and his squad were relatively well concealed behind a good embankment in case they took return fire. At some point they might come under determined attack and have to fall back to another position, but for now he just focused on squeezing off as many shots as possible and doing his best to make sure he hit something.
A minute passed that seemed like half an hour, and in that time the road below and any cover within twenty feet completely emptied out aside from dozens of bodies. The trucks that had been disabled by the rockslide or M2, around fifteen in all, lay scattered like abandoned and stomped on toys, while the rest of the convoy had cleared out to a safe distance. It was now creating a fortified position just outside the mouth of the canyon.
