STRYKER - OMNIBUS: BOOKS 3-5: A Post Apocalyptic Tale

by Bobby Andrews

  Stryker and Erin had lost pretty much everything, and were left with only their side arms, M-4s, and Stryker’s messenger bag filled with M-67 grenades.

  “Sure, let’s go to Mexico,” Erin said from the side of her mouth as she peered through the scope of her weapon. “Food, beaches, and cold beer. What a great idea.”

  The gunfire from the skirmishers that moved up the hill toward them continued at a disciplined rate, and the long line of fighters that approached maintained their spacing. They occasionally paused to hide behind boulders and small terrain features, but their advance was relentless and steady.

  Puffs of dust from the incoming fire blossomed around them and it seemed to become more accurate as the men advanced toward them.

  “No time for that now,” Stryker muttered back, watching downhill. He saw a man pop up from behind the cover of a boulder on the desert floor, sighted his weapon, and pulled the trigger. A puff of red mist burst from the man’s neck, and Stryker shifted the weapon to his left, trying to acquire the next target.

  Erin dropped the man to his left with a shot that almost echoed his report.

  “Great minds,” Stryker said.

  They both dropped and lay prone in the depression in the landscape. A blizzard of slugs flew by them as the attackers put down a blistering suppressing fire to allow the skirmishers to advance to their new positions.

  Stryker glanced at Erin and saw a look of concern on her face that bordered on fear. She winced as rounds impacted around them and then looked at him with a question mark in her eyes.

  They were totally defensive and facing a situation that was only going to get worse. Stryker’s mind whirled through the calculations. There was no cover or concealment behind them, and the hill from which they looked down on the attackers was really the beginning of a mesa that was flat on all sides. If they tried to run, they would be caught in the open. They could not move laterally to a better position. There was just more flat, featureless land to either side of them.

  If they stayed in their position, which was the only cover anywhere around them, they would eventually be flanked and that would be lights out as well.

  In short, they had no options except one that seemed suicidal in Stryker’s view.

  The only cover was directly in front of them—the Humvees and truck the attackers used to follow and trap them on the hilltop. There was only one way out, and it was anything but an ideal plan, but it was the only possibility.

  “Mexico,” Erin repeated, her voice filled with accusation. “What a stupid idea.”

  “And you smell like rose petals, my love.”

  “Crap.” Erin snorted, rolling her eyes.

  “We’re going to have to Butch Cassidy these assholes,” Stryker sighed.

  “That sounds pretty desperate.”

  “It is.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Erin asked.

  “Stay down until they get close enough. Then we pitch grenades at them down the center and as far as we can throw to both sides. We try to clear a lane through them and get down to the Humvees they left, steal one and get the hell out of here.”

  “That is desperate.”

  “It’s the only play we got.” Stryker rose to one knee when there was a lull in the fire, saw two men moving up the hill close to each other and fired two quick shots, downing both of them.

  He ducked back down when another fusillade from the attackers struck the earth around them.

  “Two more down.” He looked at Erin with an oddly content expression.

  “When do we throw the grenades?” she asked.

  Stryker pulled three M-67s from his pouch, placed them in one massive hand, and held them out.

  “Pretty soon.”

  Stryker pulled three more from the messenger bag and placed them on the ground beside him. He examined the grenades for a moment and then emptied his messenger bag.

  They were going to need a lot of help.

  “Are we going to make it?” Erin asked.

  “No idea.” He waited until the sound of the gunfire got closer and looked at Erin.

  “You remember how to do this?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, on me.” Stryker got to his knees, armed the first grenade and pitched it, and then watched it soar over the battlefield. He armed the second and did the same. Then, a third.

  Erin pitched hers and Stryker noted it was far short of his throw on his side before he ducked down to avoid the shrapnel. She pitched another one to her right.

  Several explosions followed, and then Stryker peered over the ridge. “You need to get more distance.”

  “I’m not a baseball pitcher,” she growled.

  Stryker armed another grenade and threw it to Erin’s side of the battle line. The weapon left his hand on a high, long trajectory toward the enemy and exploded in the air, raining down shrapnel on the men who attacked them.

  Screams echoed back at them.

  He didn’t bother to duck from the explosion as they were out of range for the longer throws, and sent another grenade on a long path to the left. He then armed another grenade and threw it closer to their position, walking the damage toward them with each progressive throw. After each toss, he ducked down until he heard the next explosion, and then popped up to send another grenade toward the skirmishers.

  He glanced down. They were out of grenades.

  “Let’s go.” Stryker rose to his feet. He leveled his M-4 to the left and fired suppressing fire to his side of the fight, and Erin did the same on her side.

  They both ran their mags dry half-way down the hill, shouldered their weapons, and continued to sprint toward the cover of the vehicles. The terrain around them was now covered with small craters that emitted faint smoke.

  The return fire grew in volume and intensity and dust kicked up all around them. They moved down the hill, running even faster as the pitch grew steeper, until they were struggling to keep their legs under them as they ran. The terrain leveled out somewhat, and they slowed momentarily to regain their balance on the less steep incline.

  They sprinted toward the parked vehicles. Stryker drew his XD and administered mercy rounds to the few men that still moved as they continued down the hill at a full run.

  Erin dodged a few bodies as she headed toward the Humvee. One hand grabbed her pant leg as she passed. She yelped, and Stryker turned and drilled the man through the forehead. He grabbed her and threw her in front of him to cover her retreat and again turned downhill.

  A round exploded through the sole of Stryker’s boot, and left him limping on an uneven heel tread.

  “Shitheads,” he muttered.

  More puffs of dust kicked up all around them. Finally, they reached the first of the Humvees and ran to the back of the vehicle.

  Both slammed fresh mags into their carbines.

  “Take the left.” Stryker peered around the right side of the vehicle.

  Stryker sighted his weapon around the back of the Humvee and acquired a target-rich environment, with the attackers streaming down the hill toward them. He switched his selector to full auto, emptied a mag up the hill, and watched several men fall forward as the slugs hit them. He grunted in satisfaction and then changed his mag again.

  They sat behind the vehicle, and Stryker thought about the situation for a heartbeat. “We gotta get the hell out of here.”

  “No shit.”

  “I can get up on the Ma Deuce and you can drive.”

  “Seems like a plan.”

  “Me first.” Stryker climbed over the back of the Humvee, stood behind the big .50 and fired uphill toward the enemy. His fire was ineffectual as he traversed the weapon rapidly over a broad area, but it kept the return fire to a minimum, with a few rounds landing around them but nothing really threatening them.

  He turned the weapon toward the other Humvee and punched several rounds through the radiator of the vehicle that faced theirs, and then did the same with the transport truck parked next to it.
r />   Erin crawled into the driver’s seat and ducked down as several rounds pinged by them and then glanced at Stryker. “We good?”

  “Go.”

  Erin punched the accelerator and the Humvee fishtailed in the sand before getting traction and gaining speed.

  The big .50 chugged out rounds as they left the battlefield and a few slugs hit the back of the vehicle before they turned onto the highway and Erin headed north.

  “The route is the other way.” Stryker lumbered into the passenger’s seat.

  “That’s how we got into this mess.”

  “It’s still the mission.”

  “No, the mission just changed. I’m driving, so we’re getting out of here and finding someplace to lay low while you do your Albert Einstein shit, or whatever those trances are that you go into. Once you have a real plan, we can go back, but no more over the top, testosterone-fueled giant brain farts from you.”

  “Wow,” Stryker replied. “You really do love me.”

  “Yes, but right now I want to shoot you.”

  “You almost did that once.”

  “You got lucky.”

  “Any chance I’ll get lucky again?” Stryker raised an eyebrow.

  “Not any time soon.” Erin flashed her brightest smile at him.

  They drove on a few miles, with Stryker’s gaze clicking over the landscape, taking in the sand dunes to the left of the roadway, where the beach on the Pacific Ocean lay, and then glancing into the rear view mirror, and off the east, where the terrain was hilly and covered with rocks.

  “Who do you think those guys are?” Erin asked.

  “No clue, but they have training and I’m guessing they’re elements of the Mexican Army.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, we’re in Mexico, and they wore uniforms.” His voice contained the faintest note of sarcasm.

  “That’s a clue.”

  “We need to get off the road and hunker down somewhere.” Stryker’s eyes continued their relentless movement around them. “Those vehicles are all disabled, and they are all going to have a long walk to somewhere, so let’s get off the highway and settle in for the night.

  They drove on in silence for a few klicks, both still watchful.

  “Why did they attack us?” Erin asked.

  “That was no attack; it was an ambush.” Stryker had time to think it over and concluded there was no other explanation for them being caught in the open on Mexican Highway 1.

  “What does that mean?”

  “They knew we were coming.” His eyes again clicked to the east. “They had high ground on both sides of the highway, and we drove right into it. They knew to stay down until we were in their kill zone, so it was definitely an ambush.”

  “They pretty much destroyed our Humvee.”

  “They did. And the trailer too. They flattened the tires and I doubt that was accidental.” They both fell silent for a moment.

  “Most of our weapons were in that trailer.” She looked concerned again.

  “Yep. We lost the AT rocket launchers, the rest of the grenades, and the Barrett.”

  “And the water too.”

  “You didn’t look in the back seat of this Humvee.” Stryker grinned at her.

  “I was a little busy.”

  Stryker reached into the back seat, grabbed two bottles, handed her an open one, and again settled in the passenger’s seat . They sipped from them and continued watching the landscape around them. The terrain reminded Stryker of West Texas. It was the same featureless land, windswept and rocky and dotted with desert vegetation. He squinted to the west and could make out the faint outline of what had been a series of fields. Remnants of a crude irrigation system bordered the west side of the land that had once been tilled. Occasionally, he spotted small pieces of farm equipment that were not familiar to him.

  “There must have been forty of them.” Erin watched her side of the vehicle.

  “That’s probably pretty close.”

  “So, how did they not kill us?”

  “That is the question,” Stryker replied. “I need to think on that one for a while, because it makes no sense.”

  Erin pointed to the seaward side. “That looks pretty nice.”

  What appeared to be a castle on a hill overlooked the ocean and was visible from any point of the compass. The adobe structure was massive, and a closed gate fronted the building. The fence that surrounded the mansion was of metal and topped with long strands of concertina wire.”

  “It makes you wonder what is so important in that place, doesn’t it?” Her question held a note of invitation.

  “A bit too flamboyant for me,” Stryker replied. “Let’s just find a small house on the beach and call it good.”

  They turned off the highway toward a small town that sat on the coastline. After passing several small kiosks and a few gas stations, they turned north along the beach and found a small house that that overlooked the water. It was modest looking, painted white, and squatted on a small sand-covered hill.

  “That should do just fine.”

  Erin stopped the vehicle and shut off the engine.

  “You know the drill. Wait here and watch my six.” Stryker examined the house.

  He got out of the Humvee and carried his weapon at the low ready as he approached the structure. Stryker stepped on a wooden porch that fronted the house, wincing as the boards under his feet groaned from the weight of his tread. The door was closed and locked, so he tried the windows on the front of the house, and finally succeeded in opening one.

  Stryker pushed his weapon through the opening and swept the room from the outside. Then he entered the house from the open window, swept the rest of the residence, and opened the front door. He waved for Erin to come in.

  After setting their weapons to each side of the settee, they took a seat on the living room couch and drank from their water bottles.

  Stryker looked at framed photographs of a family of blonde, blue-eyes people that sat on top of the TV stand against the far wall. “Must have belonged to some rich southern Californian family who came down here for long weekends.”

  Erin glanced at the photos. “They don’t look Mexican to me either.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Stryker shrugged. “I don’t care who owned the place, and I’m glad to have a place to sleep tonight.

  “I wanted the palace on the bluff,” Erin said in a mocking tone.

  “Yeah, and I want to be handsome. Get over it.”

  “You are handsome.”

  “Yeah, and you’re the Wicked Witch of the West with warts on your nose.” Stryker laughed at the idea and glanced over at her.

  “I mean it,” she said quietly.

  Stryker sat in his seat, unable to formulate a reply that would address all the undertones of her statement. He glanced out the window and saw an endless expanse of white sand with an ocean that gently kissed the beach every five seconds. Finally he looked back.

  “I know what I am, and I’m fine with it.”

  “I know what you are, and I’m better with it.” Erin said it with a note of finality.

  “So I’m not a moron?”

  “I never said that.”

  “And you never will.” Stryker smirked.

  “You need to check your attitude.”

  “I did when I married you,” he pointed out.

  “I’m not really feeling that.”

  “Then you need a neurologist.”

  “No, I need someone who isn’t a lunatic.”

  “Good luck with that,” Stryker replied with a wide grin. “Welcome to the world upside down, where coke bottle caps are coins.”

  Erin stared at Stryker as he leaned on the balcony, naked, watching the ocean as it bounced off the beach. They had just taken a swim to wash off the sweat from the heat of the day, and she stood next to him, also naked.

  He looked like a Greek statue on steroids, with his broad shoulders accenting a narrow waist and long lean flanks. The lean part stopped w
hen you got to his thighs, which were as large as the diameter of small tires, and the man had a quality to his body that screamed of power and a raw strength that seemed overwhelming. The angry scars on his back and chest spoke of someone who had known and conquered pain.

  She wondered at the sight. How could this man be so powerful and, at the same time, so overtaken by hesitation about his own strength and will that, at times, he behaved in irrational ways?

  Erin glanced away when she realized that she was in no position to judge him. He was her man and there was no dispassionate way for her to see him. He was what he was, and that was not going to change. She sighed and continued staring at him as he watched the ocean.

  “What are you thinking?” Stryker asked.

  “Will you please stop that?”

  “What?”

  “Freaking me out when you know I am thinking about you.”

  “Well, no.”

  “Okay, what are you thinking about?” Erin asked.

  “I don’t know. I think it’s really pretty here and I like it.”

  “What about the mission?” She stared at him, waiting for an answer.

  “It’ll wait until tomorrow.”

  “You want to go keep going south?”

  “We’re going to have to,” Stryker replied.

  “We could just go back to San Diego and forget the whole thing.”

  “Well, then you would have married a quitter and a loser.”

  They both continued to stare at the ocean as the sun seemed to sigh before it sank into the water on the western horizon.

  Stryker gathered his thoughts, thinking through what he was about to say.

  “I know you are getting confused about me. When we met, I was the rescuer and the invincible hero for a long time. Now that you know me, you understand that none of that is true.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry if that’s a disappointment for you or if you don’t feel as safe. But, I never promoted that image of myself, and you aren’t the first to see me that way, only later to find out that I am human and have the same flaws as everyone else.”

  “How could you possibly know that?”