by Nathan Jones
Trev had been there for Matt when his friend needed him most. He'd been there for the town. He'd even followed his conscience over pragmatism and tried to help someone who had no qualms with trying to ruin his life for her own benefit. And now, when he needed help most, when Lewis's own family needed them most, Lewis was staying behind.
But what else could he do? Lewis had fired the shots that brought down Ferris and Turner. He'd stopped the attack that would've certainly happened that night and got a lot of his friends killed, but the raiders hadn't left. And now when they did attack next they'd be out for blood, all the more merciless and brutal. If he couldn't abandon Trev when his cousin needed him most, how could he abandon the town?
Lewis dropped his head into his arms, for a moment pausing in his inspection of the area. The decision was made, now. Even if he left immediately to try to catch up with Trev there's no way he'd be able to go any faster than his determined cousin. At best he might be in time to rendezvous with him in Michigan, where his family would hopefully be waiting for him. So for better or for worse, Trev would make the trip alone.
And Trev might not have left at all without the comfort that Lewis had stayed behind to defend the town. All Lewis could do now was push his worry down with his other fears and regrets and focus on the task ahead. Not just for his own peace of mind but because lives depended on him.
With new resolve he opened his eyes and lifted his head, just in time to notice the sudden motion near a thicket to the southwest of the gardens. Stiffening in alarm and cursing his momentary inattentiveness, Lewis hurriedly swiveled his G3 around to look through the scope.
Almost immediately his shoulders loosened in relief and he let out a tense breath, but he kept his rifle raised. After a moment of aiming carefully he squeezed the trigger, and the retort from the .308 shivered the air around him. It took him a moment to regain his sight picture, but once he did he smiled in satisfaction.
Not seeing an enemy in his sights was good news. Seeing food on the hoof in the form of an adult doe there instead was doubly good news.
In a way it was good the town kept sentries at the gardens, because the young plants tended to attract pests like rabbits and deer. Not only could the sentries protect the crops against that menace along with those that came on two feet, but they could bag game without having to move. It beat sitting up in a tree watching a salt lick.
At his hip his radio blared with the panicked voice of Adam Daniels, the other sentry for the gardens stationed on the next hill over. “What was that? Shots fired!”
A moment later Matt's voice came on, sounding alarmed. “Who is this? Where are you reporting from?”
Lewis slapped his forehead in irritation. He either let his jittery friends freak out or he took the time to report in and potentially missed the shot. “Lewis here, the shot was mine.”
Before he could continue Matt cut in. “From the gardens? Are the raiders attacking there? Should I send people?” His friend was, understandably, panicking at the thought, considering how desperately the town needed those crops to survive.
“Yes, you should send people.” Lewis said, then hurried to continue before Matt could really freak out. “To pick up the deer I just shot. The gardens are fine, and a few more people in town will have dinner tonight.”
On the next hill over he saw Adam stand from his concealed position to glare Lewis's way, and a moment later the radio crackled with his voice. “Could you give me a little warning next time? You scared me half to death!”
“Sorry, I hate to be the boy who cried wolf,” Lewis replied. “But would you rather get jolted by a surprise that keeps you alert, as well as filling your stomach, or have well settled nerves and go hungry because I missed the shot while giving you a heads up?”
Before the refugee sentry could answer Matt cut in wryly. “We get the picture, Lewis. Just let us know immediately after you take the shot next time. Or before if you can manage it.”
Lewis was going to point out that Adam started screaming over the radio before he could call in the shot, which he'd been planning to do, but the truth was he had taken more time than necessary admiring his aim when he should've been setting people's minds at ease. “Gotcha. Ideally we want to keep the quick response we saw this time but lose the heart attacks.”
His friend chuckled. “I'll send a few people out for the deer. From the sounds of it you're donating the meat to the town?”
“Well I'd like to have some dinner too.” Lewis raised his rifle again and began searching the nearby area for possible threats. “Going back to doing my job. Over and out.”
That was the first bit of excitement he'd had on this afternoon's shift, but it quickly played out. The people working in the gardens down below, also armed and ready to defend them if need be, eventually got back to work, and Gutierrez and one of the refugees came and picked up the deer.
Lewis watched the former soldier field dress the animal, a bit clumsily but obviously no stranger to the technique, and then the two were off with the meat. He half wished Gutierrez had taken a moment to come up and chat with him, since Lewis had wanted to ask him a bit more about what the raiders had been up to over the winter and how many of the 45 or so men were as well trained as him and the other former soldiers from the FETF convoy. Unfortunately Gutierrez and the man with him went about their task and left with barely a wave.
Oh well. Probably best to avoid the distraction when he had to pay attention to his surroundings anyway.
After they were gone an hour dragged by uneventfully, even the few people working down in the gardens below seeming lethargic. Lewis himself was feeling the effects of several days with little sleep defending the town.
With Trev gone there didn't seem to be anyone paying enough attention to Lewis's condition to insist he get a good night's sleep. Part of that was probably his own fault, putting up a convincing display of being energetic when he was around others. Nobody would notice his feet dragging when he was out patrolling alone, and the long, tedious sentry shifts were an opportunity to rest his body, if not his mind. Thankfully the only enemy he'd had to contend with in his current state was fatigue, struggling to stay alert.
Rationally he knew he couldn't keep going like this. He needed to sleep or he'd fail when people depended on him most, and then he'd never be able to forgive himself. But his restlessness was a product of his fear that he'd be asleep and unable to help when the attack came, so it wasn't rational. Anyway sleep had never come easy to him, a head full of thoughts keeping him awake most nights until exhaustion finally claimed him.
A reason wasn't an excuse, though. The insomnia that had been a problem even before the Gulf refineries attack could become a disaster in these circumstances. He was already struggling to stay focused, eyes drooping and his thoughts wandering to dwell on his worries and fears.
He didn't know if he drifted off with his eyes open, or if the raiders had simply moved with unexpected speed in their surprise attack, but from one moment to the next the roar of an engine came clearly to his ears. At almost the exact same instant a frantic shout came over the radio from the patrol south of town, warning that raiders were headed their way fast.
Lewis jerked his head away from where his cheek rested on the butt of his rifle, instantly alert, and stared to the southeast in the direction of the noise. On the radio Matt was demanding the speaker identify themselves and give the location of the approaching attack.
Even if his friend had been given that information from the first the warning had come too late, though. The approaching vehicle was one of the large raider military trucks, moving fast and veering off the road to head directly towards the gardens in what could only be an attack. At that speed the vehicle would close the distance in less than a minute.
It was tempting to blame the patrol, and they'd certainly taken their sweet time in reporting the approaching truck and been too vague for their warning to be of much use, but even so blaming them wouldn't be entirely fair. They'd all a
ccepted that there were serious problems with fighting an enemy with vehicles, one of which being that at any point the enemy could just point a truck in the direction of town and slam on the gas and be there in minutes.
Aspen Hill couldn't field enough people for patrols out far enough to give advance warning of vehicles approaching at that speed in time for the defenders to respond properly. And trying would be near suicidal since it would leave most of their people exposed outside the fortifications, where enemy sneak attacks and hit and runs in vehicles would pick them to pieces in no time at all.
They just had to be ready when the vehicles came, and hope the defenses they'd set up would be a match for the attack until help could arrive. In this particular situation that defense was Lewis and the people with him, and he'd nearly been asleep at his post.
Lewis didn't waste any time on self-recrimination as he hurriedly lifted his radio. “Lewis at the gardens confirming we're under attack. One truck, under a minute out.” Without further clarification he twisted around and yelled down at the handful of gardeners in the plots below to run for cover, then lifted his rifle to aim at the approaching vehicle.
Unfortunately it was approaching from behind the hill just to the east of the one he was on, where Adam was stationed, and disappeared before he could get it in his sights. On the radio Matt and Mayor Tillman were both talking over each other asking questions, but when Lewis lowered his rifle to use his radio again he ignored both of them.
“Adam!” he barked. “They're out of my sight just below the hill you're on, to your left facing south. It's up to you.” There was no response and he felt a mingled jolt of irritation and worry. “Adam Daniels!” he said louder.
A moment later he saw the man poke up from his concealed spot atop the next hill over, staggering slightly and rubbing at his eyes as he lifted his radio. He'd been sleeping. Not exactly surprising with the strain they'd all been under, but potentially fatal. And for more people than just the former refugee. “What?”
“Get down!” Lewis yelled into the radio. “Enemies right below you!”
Adam dropped, but almost at the same time Lewis heard the staccato burst of automatic weapon fire. There was no way to tell if the refugee had obeyed his order or been shot, but it didn't matter at the moment because the man's position was compromised and he'd have trouble doing anything without leaving cover.
Lewis desperately panned his rifle around the base of the hill, searching for any sign of the truck emerging into sight or any of the raiders on foot. Instead he saw something small and burning distinctly even in the bright afternoon sun, streaking directly for the gardens from behind the cover of the hill.
He lowered his rifle to watch with a sick feeling in his gut as the missile exploded in the center of the Aspen Hill general plot with a deafening noise, heat and flames washing over the plants and engulfing Ian Childress. The man had ignored Lewis's warning to run, instead going for his rifle to defend the precious plants. It had likely just cost him his life.
Since his current position was useless Lewis abandoned it and bolted down the hill, G3 clutched tightly in one hand and using the other as best he could for balance. As he ran he saw another streak of fire become a second explosion in the plot beside the general one, a smaller one and thankfully with no people anywhere nearby.
Was that ten, twenty seconds to reload the missile launcher? Lewis didn't have time to run up the hill to Adam's position, and that would've been a terrible idea anyway since the raiders would be keeping an eye on it. Instead he ran around the back of the hill, racing the clock for the next reload.
The idling truck came into view a few seconds later, one man in the driver's seat and one leaning out the passenger window with his M1A pointed up the slope at Adam's sentry post. Standing just outside the passenger door was the man with the missile launcher. He'd just finished reloading and was lifting it to fire again. To destroy more of their precious crops.
Lewis skidded to a halt and raised his rifle, sighting along it like he'd done countless times.
Like his companions the raider with the missile launcher was wearing body armor, which made the shot even more difficult. Lewis held his panting breath as the crosshairs centered on the man's neck just above his flak jacket, willing his trembling arms to be as rock steady as they usually were. Then he gently squeezed the trigger.
The man went down, loaded missile launcher tumbling to the ground unfired, and the man leaning out of the passenger window jolted in surprise and began looking around desperately. Lewis shifted his rifle's sights to him and snapped off a shot just as the man saw him and turned to aim his way.
His bullet glanced off the door frame inches from the raider's face, half because Lewis had missed and half because at that moment the truck lurched backwards with a squealing of tires.
The driver wasn't an idiot. He backed around to put the truck between Lewis and the fallen missile launcher, giving his buddy in the passenger seat time to retrieve the precious weapon. That put the driver in the line of fire, but he was ducked low with only his helmet visible through the window.
Lewis shot at it anyway, and at the door just below the helmet hoping for a lucky hit. But the door's reinforced siding and the reinforced glass of the window stopped his .308 rounds, with no more to show for it than a handful of spiderweb patterns in line with the helmet inside.
His large caliber rifle might have eventually shattered the window, but before that could happen the truck lurched into motion again, peeling out as it sped away at dangerous speeds over the slightly rough terrain. The raiders left behind the body of their friend, taking nothing but the launcher it looked like. That meant the man would probably have useful things on him, especially the body armor and helmet.
If so it was a horrible tradeoff. Losing one, possibly two men, and two plots full of crops, for one raider wasn't the sort of exchange Lewis could be happy with. He accepted that losses were probably unavoidable, but losing even one Aspen Hill defender to take out every single raider was too steep a price in his eyes.
Especially while filled with the nagging guilt that he might've been able to prevent it if he'd been more alert, if he'd responded faster.
Lewis left the raider where he lay and rushed up the hill, calling Adam's name. There was no response, and although he feared what he'd find when he reached the concealed location at the top he almost wasn't surprised to see the former refugee slumped there with half a dozen bullet wounds, dying or already dead. The man hadn't even had time to go for his rifle, lying off to one side.
Lewis looked down at the garden. There were a handful of residual fires from the missile attacks, but most of the small plants had died from the initial blast. He saw the gardeners who'd been working down there hiding in a safe spot, staring in shock and despair at the destroyed crops.
“It's safe!” he shouted down at them. “The raiders are gone! See what you can save and check Ian!”
Without waiting for a response he turned around to look after the departed truck, which was no longer in sight. Then, with a leaden weight settling in his gut, he lifted the radio that was still squawking with half a dozen frantic voices and interrupted them to report on what had happened.
It didn't take long to give the bare details, and Matt immediately called for their standby defenders to head out to the gardens in case the raiders came back. Lewis got back to inspecting the area around them, his previous fatigue washed away in the surge of adrenaline. It also meant his hands were shaking slightly, which worried him a bit.
He slung his rifle over his shoulder and retrieved his binoculars, which would not only provide a better view but were much lighter and would rest his arms for when he needed them. Ideally he should have someone else take his place and go get some rest. But he didn't want to leave just after an attack, and anyway he had his doubts about whether he could even sleep under the circumstances.
His condition in this situation had him silently cursing himself. He'd worn himself ragged over th
e last few days when there was no threat, and now that he was actually needed he wasn't functioning anywhere close to his best. He knew he wasn't the only one, either. Even Matt was sporting dark bags under his eyes in spite of Sam's continuous insistence that he not push himself too hard. They really needed to start conserving their energy or they'd all be knocked out of the fight before the raiders even tried a serious attack.
In fact, it was kind of a surprise that this attack had just involved a single truck and three men. Had the new raider leader, either Berthold or Joaquin if Gutierrez's information was accurate, adopted a long term strategy to wear Aspen Hill's defenders out by random periodic attacks? Targeted strikes, especially against their sources of food like the gardens, gave them a good chance to eventually win without a real fight.
The rank and file among the raiders would hate that idea, when every day that passed used up their own supplies and was one they couldn't spend out there finding easier targets to hit. Lewis was honestly surprised they hadn't either tried a more committed attack before now or simply continued their raiding elsewhere.
In fact the more he thought of it, the more this single missile attack bothered him. He slowly lowered his binoculars and reached for his radio. “Can we have everyone on duty report in?”
After a surprised moment Matt confirmed the order, and for the next half a minute the patrols and sentry positions confirmed their presence and reported that everything was quiet. As the last group finished and silence fell Lewis started to relax, but unfortunately he wasn't as up to speed on the roster as his friend.
“East patrols and sentries?” Matt said after a few moments. “Kyle? Wendy? Conner's group? Report in!”
The silence stretched on for an uncomfortably long time, and Lewis felt his stomach sink.
Chapter Two
Fool Me Once
Matt bolted towards the center of town, silently cursing the bad luck that had him inspecting the sentries on the northern border when all of this started. He hadn't gone far before hearing gunfire break out somewhere south and east of him, followed soon afterwards by screams, and he grit his teeth to hold down his panic.
