Reclamation (Best Laid Plans Book 4)

by Nathan Jones

After a moment Davis straightened with a soft grunt. “Anyway, back to business. Your people did a good job.”

  “Thanks.” Matt glanced north. “Speaking of my people, has Trev reported in?”

  “Yeah. A dozen or so blockhead trucks drove right past his canyon without even trying to peek their heads in, and that's all the excitement he's seen. It seems like the enemy wants 31 so they're parking the bulk of the convoy in Huntington. My guess is they'll try to secure this entire area on foot so they can move in and start clearing the road.”

  Matt could've done without hearing that thousands of enemy soldiers with tanks and possibly even a helicopter were going to be a recurring problem for them. “What are we going to do?”

  Davis spat off to one side. “Get more people, for one thing. I've called in for more reinforcements, along with the ones that were already coming. Then we just fight them off like we planned, hope eventually it gets too costly for them and they go away.”

  The sergeant glanced down the canyon. “I wouldn't expect to get much sleep for the next little while, Larson. Are your people good to get back to your emplacement? Even with the ceasefire I feel a bit antsy leaving just one partial squad watching the blockheads.”

  “We're in good shape,” Matt said. “We got lucky with the missile they sent our way.” He hesitated. “If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did that ceasefire happen?”

  “Greed.” Davis sighed. “Once your guy chased off the bird they probably realized the fight wasn't going to get any easier. They offered the ceasefire so they could get their people and vehicles out with all the equipment intact so it didn't fall into our hands. The alternative was that they'd commit to a full attack, including bringing the tanks up to start shelling us. I figured buying some extra time would help us more than them, so I agreed.”

  “How long?”

  “They didn't say. And I'm not sure I'd trust them if they had. I barely trust this ceasefire to begin with, even if they're sticking to their end of it so far.” Davis clapped him on the shoulder and turned him toward the command tent. “Send your people back to the emplacement. You can join them after we've talked through the attack and settled on how you can do better in the future.”

  Matt went along, although he still had one last question. “Have you heard from Aspen Hill?”

  The sergeant hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. Sorry to say it, but it looks like they're in the same boat as the rest of us.”

  * * * * *

  Lewis stood beside his dad, uncle, and sister on an overlook at the top of Aspen Hill Canyon, watching grimly as dozens of Gold Bloc trucks rolled into Aspen Hill in the valley below. Even through binoculars the vehicles were small and the houses only a bit bigger, but he could practically feel the ground rumbling beneath his feet as their home was invaded.

  Smoke rose from the south end of town, although that had nothing to do with the blockheads. Or at least not directly: two hours ago he and Uncle George had torched the gardens to prevent them from providing food for the enemy, then hightailed it back up the canyon on bikes.

  It had been just the tiniest bit soul crushing to watch the plants they'd worked so hard to nurture go up in flames, especially when he was the one lighting the match. At the very least the town had harvested every scrap of edible plant matter from the gardens during the final stages of the evacuation, so while they'd lost a lot they hadn't lost everything.

  A flash of reflected sunlight in motion turned his eyes from that smoke plume, and he caught sight of the lead trucks in the convoy turning down Center Street in their direction.

  He wasn't the only one who'd noticed. “We knew they'd eventually check out the canyon,” George said heavily, swinging his rifle around to inspect the road below through the scope. The road the enemy would likely soon try to take, just one of many options they were pursuing to get behind the stubborn force of US soldiers and citizens determined to defend their country.

  Chauncey had been passing on any reports of the day's events he could glean, and from the sounds of things the fighting was getting brutal in multiple places. Including along Highway 31, where the blockheads had tried a full on assault and been repelled.

  Lewis hoped his cousin and friends were okay.

  To his right Mary was humming a depressingly fatalistic song, and he half didn't blame her. He felt like the world was ending too as he watched some trucks in the convoy below briefly stop, so soldiers could pour out to scour the town and confirm for themselves that it was abandoned.

  That left the bulk of the convoy inching on towards the canyon. A part of him wondered why they didn't set the town on fire behind them or something of the sort, but then he figured they might want to use it for a staging area or something.

  Besides, from what the others had told him about Michigan the invading forces didn't destroy anything, just emptied places out for their own use. If news from Canada was correct there were hundreds of thousands or even millions of Gold Bloc colonists, now refugees, who needed someplace to settle. The blockheads would have an incentive to keep the existing infrastructure intact.

  His dad finished radioing in another report to Chauncey back at the temporary refuge the Aspen Hill townspeople had made, who would pass it on to Colonel Grimes up along Highway 6. The retired teacher also promised to send more defenders down, just in case the surprise Williams and his demolitions team had set up in the canyon wasn't enough.

  As for Grimes, from the sounds of it he had his own problems, in the form of a fierce fight that had already claimed hundreds of lives and was only getting started. That fight was over thirty miles away, but that didn't feel all that far with trucks pulling into the town below.

  Lewis had to hope they wouldn't need help that might be late, if it came at all. According to Chauncey's last report the Gold Bloc was now stopped all along the Utah Rockies, the Chinese to the north and west, the Russians to the east, and this new army to the south all halted by one of the last knots of US resistance remaining in the country.

  Since the enemy had just barely found themselves being turned back along the major roads it was no surprise they'd started checking the smaller roads for anything that would let their trucks through, but it was way too early for them to be trying any forays on foot once a potential route was blocked or destroyed. Especially when they had no idea just what sort of resistance they were facing.

  Which meant that once they saw that the canyon was useless for their vehicles they'd give up for the moment. Hopefully.

  “Godspeed,” Chauncey said before signing off. “Davis and Grimes entrusted the defense of this canyon to our town. Let's not fail them.”

  They watched in silence as the trucks below approached the canyon. But instead of entering its mouth and continuing up the road towards them the enemy vehicles began splitting off, taking the nearby roads to scout the area around the town. Two trucks did stop a cautious distance away, however, to let out a few dozen soldiers with dogs and metal detectors.

  “They're not going to take their vehicles anywhere close to the canyon?” Lewis said in disappointment, watching the small group of scouts cautiously approaching the canyon mouth. He'd hoped to catch a few trucks beneath the cliffs when they blew them and took out the road.

  His dad nodded grimly. “They've probably been burned too often on other approaches and don't want to risk walking into another trap. By this point they must've realized that there aren't any unguarded roads into the mountains.”

  “So what now?” his uncle asked, lowering his rifle. “Do we just blow the road so they know the canyon's not an option and go somewhere else, or do we let them scout it and hope they don't find our explosives and give it the green light? If we can lull them into bringing some vehicles up we'll be able to do the most damage with our explosives.”

  “I don't think they'll be bringing those trucks anywhere near the cliff,” his dad said. “And we have to consider that the evacuated townspeople aren't too far away. We don't want to let enemy troops wander aro
und freely and possibly discover them.”

  “So we blow it now?” Mary asked.

  His dad and uncle glanced at each other and nodded. “I've been waiting to see some fireworks,” his dad said with a slight smile.

  “Let's give it a bit,” Lewis said. “We've got nothing to lose from waiting a bit longer, and a better opportunity might come up. If nothing else we might get a chance to take out some of those scouts.”

  His dad looked down at the approaching soldiers, who were moving extremely cautiously and letting their dogs go well ahead of them. “I suppose it couldn't hurt,” he said with a shrug.

  As they settled back to watching the canyon and valley below Lewis turned his binoculars to their shelter. Like with the raiders, he'd buried the entrance and they'd hidden anything they couldn't take with them in the escape tunnel, as well as locking the shed and covering it with a thin layer of dirt over the top. As far as he could see the blockheads hadn't found the place yet, but given how thoroughly they were scouring the area it was only a matter of time.

  He had to admit that even though he'd willingly abandoned his home to escape the threat, the thought of enemy soldiers taking it over and using it for themselves seriously pissed him off. Although to be fair, since the shelter was so far from the rest of town and he knew every square inch of it there was a good chance he could severely punish them if they tried trespassing.

  After a few minutes of watching the enemy below Lewis heard the noise of an approaching truck engine from behind. He turned to see the reinforcements Chauncey had promised, driving one of the raider trucks with the town's remaining M2 Browning mounted on the top.

  Lewis hastily radioed Carl Raymond, who was driving the truck, to tell him to cut the engines, then turned to Uncle George, who'd been following the progress of the scouts with his scope. “Did they hear that?”

  “Doesn't look like it,” his uncle replied.

  Carl and Tam hopped out of the parked vehicle and continued on foot, joined by Wes and a dozen other defenders. That was probably the most they could scrape together on short notice; with the volunteers with Davis to the south, ten defenders a time on patrol in the nearby hills scouting for any Gold Bloc troops sneaking their way, and all the sentries and patrols taking shifts around the refuge itself, not to mention the people off duty taking what rest they could, the community's manpower was stretched a little thin.

  That included Jane, who had spent the last 24 hours either sleeping or as one of those 10 on patrol. He missed his wife, especially now when it looked like there might be trouble soon.

  “Have they come up the canyon?” Tam called as they got closer.

  “They're sending scouts,” Lewis replied, “but even those are still tiptoeing around the mouth of the canyon.”

  “I guess I wouldn't be in any hurry either if I had hundreds of thousands of friends behind me and ambushes in front,” Carl said. “They've got all the time in the world to feel us out before committing to anything.”

  The group joined them, and the new arrivals looked down into the valley with the scopes or binoculars they'd brought, or if they hadn't then shared what was available among them.

  After a few minutes Tam lowered her scope. “Hmm. Looks like they're setting up in town.”

  Lewis nodded, eyes also on the vehicles moving to secure the ruined perimeter of the town while the rest of the convoy pulled into the center and parked wherever they could find a place.

  “Seriously?” Mary asked. “They're going to set up in that dump?”

  Wes glared at her. “Hey, that's our home you're talking about!”

  Lewis's dad gave them both a long-suffering look. “They might just be camping there for the night, or they might be planning to use it as a more permanent base of operations. Either way it's too close for comfort. We should probably be cautious and call in to tell Catherine, see if she wants to move the townspeople farther into the mountains just in case.”

  “And if they decide they want to be Aspen Hill's new residents?” Uncle George asked. “We were ready to destroy the road and maybe discourage any attempts to explore up the canyon on foot, but this is more than we can handle alone. We should radio Grimes and see what he wants to do about it.”

  Lewis's dad frowned down the canyon. “Whatever we decide, I think it's about time we blew the road.” He hesitated for a moment, then carefully withdrew the detonator from his pocket and thumbed off the safety cap.

  “Wait,” Lewis blurted, mind racing. Everyone turned to look at him, and he did his best to pull his thoughts together. “That road is the only way up the canyon.”

  The others gave him blank looks. “Um yeah, that's the idea,” Mary said.

  “But they're not the only ones with vehicles.”

  There was another uncomfortable pause. “Please tell me you're just talking about keeping the way open if the military wants to bring people down for an attack,” his dad finally said.

  “Them too, if they have anyone to spare. But we can do plenty by ourselves.” Lewis looked down at the cluster of intact buildings in the midst of the ruined town, where the enemy soldiers had begun to ferry things from the trucks while more set up a perimeter along the fortifications he'd helped build. “We defended that town for weeks against a determined enemy, and at the moment we're pretty well equipped. I've got a good idea of the sort of attacks they'll have trouble dealing with, and I know every square inch of the area.”

  Uncle George shook his head emphatically. “No way, bud. We promised Williams we would hold this canyon. Nobody said anything about trying any heroics against professional soldiers. Besides, the longer we delay blowing the road the greater the risk they'll take it.”

  Lewis did his best to hide his frustration. Didn't they see? “This is our road! We're the ones with the explosives set up to detonators. We can come and go as we please along it, and if they try to follow us they'll get buried under tons of rubble. That's a huge advantage, one we should use.”

  Tam gave him an uncomfortable look. “Come on, Lewis. The town lost almost a hundred good people fighting the raiders, and what we'd be facing down there is a hundred times worse. This isn't our fight. Let the military handle it while we worry about our own survival.”

  “It'll be our fight if the military fails and we find ourselves surrounded by blockheads we can't do anything to defend ourselves against,” Lewis shot back. “Every small victory means we're that much closer to ending the war for good.”

  Almost everyone stared at him doubtfully, although Wes was nodding in agreement. Hardly the best recommendation. He hurried to continue. “This is our town we're defending. Our terrain, our opportunity to make a difference. At least give me a chance to see if I can round up some volunteers.”

  George and his dad looked at each other, then his uncle sighed. “He's right about one thing, that for the moment the road offers options we shouldn't be in a hurry to eliminate. We can always sit on the detonator for a while. Who knows, they might slip up and send a vehicle up the canyon after all and we can do some damage.”

  “What about the scouts?” Mary asked. “They're going to actually head up the canyon at some point.”

  “It would be a good idea to take them out if we can,” Lewis replied. He turned and looked thoughtfully at the truck.

  “No,” Tam immediately said. “We're not sending the truck roaring down the canyon, firing blindly at trained soldiers that'll have heard us coming from miles away and set up to punch us full of holes the moment we're in range.”

  “Just hear me out,” Lewis said.

  His family and the defenders exchanged looks. But he was in charge of the defenses. And he liked to think he'd had enough good ideas that they'd be willing to give him a chance.

  Nobody spoke up, so Lewis outlined his plan.

  * * * * *

  It took almost an hour for the scouts to move half a mile up the canyon. They'd stuck to the part with gentle slopes, far from any sign of cliffs or steep rocky inclines, and
they continued to send their dogs out a hundred yards or more ahead at all times, sniffing for whatever they'd been trained to sniff for and ears pricked for danger.

  The enemy was moving slow, but they were moving. Eventually even at their pace they'd make their way to someplace they could be a nuisance.

  Lewis didn't intend to give them that chance.

  The first step had been greasing the truck's axles as best they could to prevent any squeaking. The vehicle had been well maintained to begin with so it didn't make much noise, but even so they hadn't taken any chances.

  Then, forty-five minutes ago, him, Tam, Carl, and Wes had coasted the truck down the canyon to the spot Lewis had carefully picked out. It was hidden out of sight from below by a thick stand of trees and a bend in the road, and well out of earshot of the scouts at the time.

  Once in place they'd waited patiently while the scouts made their painstaking way to them, with his dad, Mary, Uncle George, and the other defenders up above keeping tabs on the enemy movements and relaying that information to them.

  The idea was to let the blockheads reach a gently sloping meadow just around the bend from where the truck waited. There was no way up the canyon aside from crossing that open expanse, and they hoped that eventually the enemy would take the chance.

  At which point the truck would coast the rest of the way to the bend and park at a ledge that overlooked the meadow.

  “Now,” his dad whispered over the radio, the signal they'd been waiting for.

  In the driver's seat Tam released the brakes, while along the back bumper Wes and Carl began pushing hard. With barely a squeak the vehicle started coasting down the road, slowly picking up speed.

  Heart thudding beneath his body armor, Lewis checked the M2 one last time to make sure everything looked good. He'd oiled the mechanisms with the special lubricant before they'd set out, and he'd also made sure the belt-fed ammo looked clean and didn't have any visible flaws that might cause jams. Having the weapon jam on him while he was in the sights of dozens of blockheads would be a bad thing.