"I think I might have an idea."
"You want to tell me what it is?"
"The men that left last week were malcontents and trouble makers and he might have not wanted them in San Diego with us, so he never told us you were coming to pick us up."
"Why didn't he tell you after they left?"
"I'm still working on that part."
"Did he not trust you?"
"Apparently not." Tom's expression grew troubled and he clearly was struggling with the memory of the captain and what appeared to be an inexplicable act of omission. He finally shrugged.
"Let's get them buried and get on the road." Stryker walked back through the lobby.
Tom went and conferred with his men and then returned to where Stryker stood. "They are getting shovels and blankets and will take care of things. I'm leaving two sentries at the entrance and would like to get briefed on everything that is going on before we decide to leave."
"That takes time."
"We can leave as soon as they are buried." Tom glanced away. "I was kept in the dark by the captain and I really don't like not knowing the lay of the land, so I would appreciate it if you could fill me in.”
Stryker could see no down side, so he nodded at Erin and gestured to the entrance to the hotel.
She nodded back and moved off to keep an eye on the guards.
"You want to get a drink?" Stryker asked.
"Sure. I haven't had one in two years.
They walked back into the bar, where Stryker found a bottle of bourbon and two dusty glasses. He washed them out with his bottled water, poured two shots into each glass, and sat down at the table farthest away from the body.
"Cheers." Stryker held up his glass.
Tom did the same. "Okay, I'm all ears."
Stryker paused to organize his thoughts. "The Nimitz is berthed in San Diego. We are using its reactor for power on the base, so things are starting to get back to normal."
"What about food and water?"
"Two-year supply, but the garden is in, so we should have fresh vegetables before long. Fruit is all over the place due to the climate in the city. And, the desalinization plant on the Nimitz ensures we have potable water for a long time. We also have plans to start rounding up cattle, pigs, and chickens longer term."
"Are there any other survivors?"
"Yes, another party is headed north now to pick up a group from the USS Kidd. We estimated they would be back in ten days, which would put them at the base in around six days from now. We are two days away from the base here, but we may have to take some detours."
"Why?"
"The gang still has forty men armed with automatic weapons, and they have our AT-4s and grenades. They also got our Barrett."
"How many ATs?"
"Four."
"Crap."
"Exactly."
"Other survivors?" Tom asked.
"Unknown to me how many there are, but the way captain Thomas talks about it, I am guessing in the hundreds."
Tom seemed to be digesting what he had learned.
"And why the rush to start north? We could fight them from a fixed position here and maybe be better off."
"I don't know what the call-in schedule is for the men I killed in the hotel, so I have no idea how long it will take them to react and send a group down here to find out what is going on."
"Go on."
"They won't expect us to head toward them. So, if we are farther north, we would have the element of surprise and, if they have the ATs, we will definitely need that edge." Stryker paused.
"You might be right." Tom took a sip of bourbon. "If they have those weapons, getting behind a wall isn't going to do us any good."
"There is one other thing."
"Go ahead."
"About six hours north of here, where Highway 53 and Highway 1 intersect, there is a perfect ambush spot. It is a warehouse that it around ten meters from the road and is three stories high." Stryker waited for a reaction.
"How does that help us?"
"The grenades. We could drop them from the warehouse. We could hit them with twelve grenades at once, and I doubt anybody would be in a position to respond."
Tom again appeared to think it over. "We could do the same thing here."
"Yes, we could, but we wouldn't know which approach they would take to our position. We know, for sure, they have to pass the warehouse, and the risk of not knowing how they come at us is gone. Plus, they won't be on their game until they get to the city. That's where they expect to find us.
Tom scoffed. "Doesn't sound like they have much game."
"I try to not underestimate an opponent, and I'll take any edge I can find. I want to end this without them getting a single shot off."
"Well, I don't have a better plan, so I guess we go with yours. If they catch us in the open, we are screwed. You know that, right?"
"Yes, that's why I am in a hurry. If they left this morning, we can get to the warehouse at least two hours before they would pass that position.
Tom drained his glass and stood. "Okay, let's see if the burials are done and move."
The sailors sat on the steps of the hotel with their M-16s in varying stages of readiness.
"Guns up," Tom said as he passed.
The men instantly stood and moved their weapons to the low ready position.
"You've trained them more than you told me?" Stryker asked.
"On the ship before we landed. The captain asked me to get them ready. They all are mildly competent trigger pullers, but still not good shooters, as I told you. But, we're going to have to show them what do with grenades. I doubt they've ever even seen one."
"It's not that complicated," Stryker replied.
"We both know if there is any possible way for a sailor or a soldier to fuck something up, it will get fucked up. I don't want to take a chance on somebody blowing us up by accident."
"Good point." Stryker cracked a grin. “I also got spare M-16s in the trailer.”
“I saw them when I looked at the grenades.”
"It's a shit weapon," Stryker said.
"It's what we have."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With the weight of the trailer, the best Stryker could manage was seventy miles an hour, and they were due to start through the rough patch of road they encountered on the way south.
Stryker glanced at Tom, who sat in the passenger seat with his weapon cradled in his arms. His eyes relentlessly roved the landscape around them. Stryker was impressed at his level of alertness.
“We’re you in Iraq?”
"Just Afghanistan. Three tours."
Stryker nodded approvingly but said nothing.
They moved along at a crawl as they dodged potholes and gaps in the pavement. Stryker glanced in the rear view mirror. His passengers struggled to stay on the trailer.
"This sucks," Stryker muttered. "We need more speed."
Tom shrugged. "The roulette wheel is already spinning and it's going to be red or black. No reason to worry about it."
An hour later they arrived at the warehouse. Stryker got out of the Humvee and walked to the trailer, where the men stood stretching and working out the kinks from the long ride.
"Everything you need is in the trailer," Stryker told Tom. "If you want to stock up on ammo and do the grenade training, we'll get eyes on the road and let you know if they are approaching."
"Fine."
Stryker turned to Erin. "Put ten grenades in my messenger bag and meet me on the third floor. He spun on his heels and entered the building. The structure was empty and filled with rubble from what appeared to be an attempt to strip everything of value from it. Piles of small lengths of lumber lay at one end of the room, and the concrete floor was a jigsaw puzzle of cracks and uneven areas.
Stryker raced up the three flights of stairs and took a position on the north side of the warehouse, where he watched the road through the scope of his weapon, occasionally looking over the carbine for signs of dust in the dista
nce.
"Anything?" Erin passed him the messenger bag.
"Not yet."
"You sound disappointed."
"I just want to get this over with."
"Tom's solid, isn't he?" Erin moved to the window next to Stryker's.
"It would appear so."
"Good. You could use some help."
"Don't plan on needing any when this is over," Stryker replied without taking his eyes off the road.
After fifteen minutes, Tom and his men appeared, exiting the stairwell. He showed them where he wanted each of them then handed them grenades as they passed.
"We're good to go." He approached Stryker. "I told them to wait for your signal. I'll take the far end and handle any squirters that get past you."
"Got it."
Tom moved off and took up his station at the far window. Jose sat next to Erin, and they waited.
"What's a squirter?" she asked.
"Anyone who manages to escape an ambush," Stryker replied.
"That's good to know," she said dryly.
They were still waiting the following morning and had spent an uncomfortable night sleeping on the floor in shifts. Although it seemed unlikely, Stryker couldn't rule out the gang traveling at night, so Tom had set up the rotation in four hour shifts.
"How long are we staying here?" Jose asked nobody in particular.
"As long as it takes," Stryker grumbled.
"I'm hungry."
"Jose, we are all hungry. Stop the whining. You're just making it worse for everyone else." Stryker blinked to clear his eyes and focused on a faint signature of dust that seemed to approaching them.
"Get ready, everyone, and stay down until I tell you to throw. I don't want them to spot us."
Stryker looked over at Tom, nodded once, and returned to watching the road. He looked through the scope again, then held up and closed five fingers twice. He glanced at Tom, who nodded his understanding.
"Erin, tell everyone to arm grenades when I raise my arm," he whispered.
"On it." She crouched over as she walked down the length of the building, stopping to quietly whisper to each man, and then she returned and sat next to Stryker.
The men were all down and hidden, and Stryker was as invisible as he could be without taking his eyes off the road.
The vehicles slowed to negotiate the turn. Stryker raised his arm and glanced over to the men arming their weapons. He did the same.
The first Humvee made the turn and passed Stryker's position. Then the second. When the third was directly below him, Stryker stood, tossed the grenade into the vehicle, and dove to the floor. A series of explosions, each a split second apart, echoed past him.
Stryker brought his M-4 up and stood in the window in time to see the second Humvee was intact and the Ma Deuce on it was traversing toward his position. He fired a burst at the gunner, saw him go down, and then emptied the mag at the rest of the occupants of the vehicle. Tom was also firing his weapon at the same target, and the four men in the Humvee were soon motionless in their seats. Stryker changed mags and strafed the few survivors he detected moving or trying to get to their knees. When he stopped firing, he looked down at broken bodies and vehicles, and again ran his eyes across the column.
He noted several grenades had exploded outside the vehicles and wondered who had missed.
It didn’t really matter.
Nothing was moving.
"I have to go down there and check for survivors. Watch my six."
Erin nodded back.
Tom stood and walked over to where Stryker stood changing mags.
"I'll keep you company."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
“Suit yourself, but tell your guys to hold fire. Erin has overwatch, and I don’t want one of them to see a fly and start shooting.”
“Nobody fires unless I order it,” Tom yelled at his men, who all nodded from behind the open windows.
The two men walked down the stairwell and emerged from the doorway with weapons up. They walked to opposite ends of the destroyed column. Tom prodded and kicked the down men. Stryker did the same, and the two men met in the middle.
“All down?” Stryker asked.
“Yes.”
“Same here.”
“You think any of these Humvees still run?”
“That one does.” Stryker pointed to the center Humvee with the Ma Deuce. The engine was still running at an idle. They dragged the dead men from their seats and set them on the ground.
Stryker glanced into the rear of the vehicle. “Jesus, there are three ammo cans for the fifty in the back seat.”
“I got dibs on that,” Tom answered.
“Only if one of us is on the gun.”
Both men stood and examined the battle scene, lost in their own thoughts for a long minute.
"Is this going to be enough payback for you?" Stryker asked.
"Not even close," Tom rumbled back.
"There are only ten of them, which means another thirty or so are still out there. The vehicles have radios, so it won't be long until they come looking."
"What do you want to do?"
"Go around them and get back to the base. They don't represent any threat to us there, and I don't see why we should risk our people for something that can't hurt us."
Tom thought it over for a moment. "Okay, but I want to keep the undamaged Humvee and go after them myself."
"That's sort of crazy."
"So is calling for a bomb on your own position,"
"We both know that was different. We were going to be overrun and there was no choice."
"That's how I feel about this—I can either do the right thing, or live with running. What these men did is unacceptable and I'm not turning the other cheek."
"Why don't we head north, and I'll show you where the base is. You can decide what you want to do on the way."
"I don't see why not."
"Can you get your guys down here to police up the weapons? Some of them will still be good and there is a full belt for the .50 in the back seat with the ammo cans. You might need that."
Four hours later, they pulled onto the shoulder of Mexican Highway 1 and stopped. Stryker walked back to where Tom sat in the Humvee they took from the ambush site and stopped by the driver's door.
"There's a small hotel around ten minutes up the road. We can stop there for the night and get an early start."
"Works for me. What about food?"
"Jose will find something. He can probably catch some fish."
"Okay, lead on."
Stryker returned to his vehicle, and they continued north until a low rise building appeared. It squatted on the beach and looked relatively new. Stryker pointed to it and then turned onto the service road that led to the structure. Tom followed.
They pulled around the hotel and parked in a parking garage out of view of the highway.
"Let's clear it first." Stryker walked toward the entrance.
"With you." Tom moved to his side.
They walked through the entry of the lobby and moved to opposite sides of the room, guns up and alert. A massive reception desk swept across the far end of the room, and Tom moved around it and into the room behind the desk, emerged and nodded.
Stryker moved into the bar area and Tom followed. Again they split up and swept the room, finishing behind the bar.
"What about the restaurant and kitchen?" Tom whispered
"You take the restaurant."
They moved in opposite directions and met back in the bar after a few minutes.
"Clear?" Stryker asked.
"Yes."
"Let's go get the others.”
They sat around a conference table in a meeting room. Jose had managed to catch several fish from the marina dock and found a barbecue grill. The result sat on steaming platters in front of the group. Jose came back with his own plate of food, and they dug into the meal.
"What is this sauce?" Erin asked.
"Garlic butter," Jose replied. "It's very simple. We call it "mojo de ajo."
"Where did you get the garlic?"
"It’s garlic power," Jose said with a tone of disgust. "All I could find."
Stryker noticed that several of the men seemed ill at ease and realized they had never been introduced.
"Tom," he asked. "You want to introduce everyone?"
"Shit. I totally forgot."
"We have been sort of busy."
"True," Tom replied. "Can we wait until we're done eating? This is the first decent food I've had in years."
Stryker shrugged. "Sure."
Finally, everyone pushed their plates away and contented sighs filled the room.
"You know what the best part of this is?" Jose asked rhetorically.
When no one answered, he added, "We don't have to do dishes." He chuckled and then sputtered to a halt when nobody else laughed.
"Now there's a man who can see the silver lining," Tom said wryly.
He stood up and pointed to the man seated next to him. "Go ahead and introduce yourselves."
Each man stated his first and last name and, when they finished, Stryker introduced his team to the men. Smiles were exchanged and a few even waved after their introduction.
"Keep an eye on things for a while. I need to have a chat with Tom," Stryker whispered to Erin from the side of his mouth.
"Got it."
"Tom, can we have a word in private?"
"Sure."
"Let's go out by the pool.” They strolled through an area that had once been filled with tables, chairs, and umbrellas. They were now scattered around the poolside area in random puddles of furniture stacked against the low walls surrounding the pool.
They walked over to one of the benches that still sat on the beach, and both gazed out over the ocean. The sun was starting to descend into the ocean when Tom fixed Stryker with a meaningful look. “What’s on your mind?”
“So, here’s the deal,” Stryker said. “We will be by the base in Ensenada by mid-afternoon tomorrow, and we have to either drop you guys there, or we all have to go on to San Diego.”
“I don’t see it that way,” Tom replied.
“We have two Humvees and one trailer. So, if you choose to stay, I can leave the Humvee with the trailer for you so you can move all your guys.”
STRYKER - OMNIBUS: BOOKS 3-5: A Post Apocalyptic Tale Page 45
