by Nathan Jones
That sort of sloppiness wasn't going to cut it. Lewis and Jane were able to get into place on the same rise overlooking the camp from about 100 yards away without being seen, taking positions about 50 yards apart so they'd have different vantages to shoot at the camp from.
They'd made good time approaching the camp, which meant that once they were in position they had plenty of time to make their own individual inspections of the area and pick out targets worth aiming for as the predawn glow in the east slowly brightened.
By their best guess there were 38 or 39 raiders left. Which meant if they were evenly split up among the three camps, and each had put out 2 or 3 snipers to cover the town, then this one would have 10 or so men occupying it. Lewis had no confidence they could take out that many by themselves, but hopefully their attack would at least do some damage, and if nothing else sow enough confusion that Matt's group would have an opening to do much more damage to the north.
Below them the sentries' shift ended and three other raiders replaced them. The new men were more alert, patrolling back and forth through the camp and doing a fair job of looking in every direction. But since Lewis and Jane were already dug in behind cover and keeping perfectly still they weren't noticed.
After a while it grew light enough that Lewis could make out the camp without his scope, and he began mentally preparing for the attack to come. That wasn't a particularly challenging task, because even if he had any reservations about firing on Turner's men the memory of the Mercer family and the other innocents who'd died at their hands would've banished them.
The harder task was controlling his mounting worry for his new wife and the constant terror that he could lose her in the next few minutes. Or that he wouldn't make it and she'd be forced to go on without him. Those sorts of fears could make him freeze up or make bad decisions when he needed to act, and he forced himself to set them aside so he could do what needed to be done.
The sun looked as if it would burst over the horizon at any moment when Jane shined a laser pointer at his hand to let him know she was ready. In this light there wasn't much danger the sentries would see that tiny dot, especially since it had been aimed to hit a surface pointed away from the camp.
As soon as he saw the signal Lewis counted down from ten, lining up his first target, and at the end of the countdown squeezed the trigger. At almost the exact same moment he heard Jane fire her first shot.
They targeted the sentries first, taking out two of the three men in quick succession and doubling up their shots to hit the third. They managed to do it quickly enough that only that third man lived long enough to realize he was under attack, but he made the mistake of searching for the source of the shots rather than for cover.
Their next target was the truck, taking out the tires on either side from their different vantages. The tires were designed to be resistant to punctures and likely filled with gel that would quickly seal any holes if the truck was moving, but sitting still and targeted by well aimed .308 shots they quickly flattened.
Which was a relief in and of itself. One of the benefits of having him and Jane target the southern camp was because it only had the one truck, its second one destroyed in the earlier attack. That meant if things did go wrong as they withdrew they'd only have that truck to deal with instead of two, and with it sitting on flat tires their escape just became a whole lot safer.
By that time panicking raiders were bursting out of the tents, in various stages of undress and some without even their weapons. Lewis shifted his focus to them, well aware that each shot would give away his position with a bright flash. Just before dawn the flashes wouldn't be quite as noticeable as in the dark, but even so he was sure he'd soon be taking return fire from anyone with a weapon. He focused on enemies with rifles first, especially any that were already aiming for him or Jane.
At first he was afraid that the remaining men would get organized quickly enough to begin firing back at them, posing a significant enough threat that he'd have to change locations or even withdraw entirely. But instead it was the raiders who withdrew, bolting for the truck fast enough to be difficult moving targets. They left everything behind and drove off as quickly as they could, flat tires flubbing on their rims.
With any luck the wild ride would destroy those rims, making the truck useless unless they had spares. But either way his and Jane's attack had taken out a few raiders and forced the rest to abandon their camp.
Lewis quickly searched for and found the men he'd shot, taking time for another shot each to make sure they were dead. Fifty yards to his right Jane was doing the same for her targets: they couldn't take the risk of being shot at as they carried out the rest of their plan.
He was frustrated to note that the sentry he'd been supposed to take out was gone, leaving just a few droplets of blood where he'd been lying. He must've hit body armor or a non-vital spot with his two shots, giving the man a chance to get to the trucks and escape.
Which was disappointing but ultimately not unexpected. At least they'd managed to take out four raiders that he could see, which was pretty good all things considered.
It was very, very tempting to thoroughly search the camp for everything valuable that had been left behind and get even more out of this attack, but they didn't have the time. Reinforcements from the other two camps could arrive at any minute, or the raiders from this camp could get their act together and return with a thirst for vengeance. Besides, even if they found some neat goodies two people could only carry so much.
At the same time he had no intention of letting the raiders reclaim any of this stuff. So in the short time he had before Turner responded to the surprise attack and sent trucks from the other camps Lewis trotted down the rise, catching sight of Jane approaching from her position to meet up with him. They were both wearing body armor, which eased his worries a bit just in case they hadn't managed to eliminate everyone in the camp, but he didn't expect to need it.
Their first task was to strip the two sentries of their weapons, goggles, and body armor, shoving it all into the duffel bag Lewis had brought. Then he searched around for anything else worth taking that just happened to be lying nearby in plain view, not finding much aside from an M16 leaning against a full ammo can by the nearest tent, both of which he took.
While he was doing that Jane lit the two Molotov cocktails he'd been carrying in the bag and flung them at the two largest clusters of tents.
The jars shattered and spread the flaming liquid inside with twin whomphs, and that was his and Jane's cue to leave: if the raiders had any doubts that their attackers had stuck around, seeing their camp on fire would bring them in hot pursuit.
Before he left Lewis grabbed a few of the nearest tents that the flames hadn't touched and flung them into the inferno, aiming them so they'd possibly bridge the gap to other tents that hadn't yet ignited.
Then, with Jane leading the way while he muled their newly acquired gear, they sprinted southwest towards the mountains, away from the town and the other raider positions both. The idea was to hole up somewhere safe and try to find their way back into town once the raiders stopped buzzing like a kicked hornet nest.
That was a change to Lewis's plan he'd had to make after the raiders set up their sniper positions surrounding the town and sent the patrols fleeing behind the fortifications. As for Matt's group, they'd have to somehow deal with the snipers between them and Aspen Hill when they fled following their attack.
Lewis hoped they managed it. He and Jane had arguably had the more difficult task, but they'd also had surprise on their side. And the advantage of surprise should never be discounted.
* * * * *
His friends at the southern camp couldn't radio in to report on their attack, but luckily they could make use of one of the oldest signaling methods known to man.
Smoke signals, to be precise. Once Matt caught sight of the black column drifting up from beyond the town to the south he knew his friends had been successful in their attack, at the very le
ast managing to set the camp on fire.
He only hoped they'd also been successful in getting away.
Of course, an even more obvious hint that his friends had carried out their attack was that down in the camp below him Matt saw four raiders gathering at the two trucks, shouting frantic instructions to each other as they piled in. The six remaining men in camp sprang into action as well, three getting to work taking down the tents and packing everything else up while the other three continued to patrol, even more vigilantly now.
Matt was briefly concern that the raiders wouldn't immediately rush to the southern camp's aid, and would instead finish packing up their camp to all go together. That fear was dispelled moments later when the two vehicles tore off heading south, leaving their companions to finish getting ready to leave when they returned.
That was his cue to go.
Matt left Pete Childress to keep watch and slithered down the slope from the position they'd taken at the top of the tallest hill overlooking the northern camp. He'd left the rest of his group waiting inside a secluded scrub oak thicket partly down the far side, and they went tense with anticipation as he slipped in to join them.
It was tempting to get cocky when it looked like his friends had managed a major success and things were going according to plan. But surprise rarely worked a second time against an enemy who wasn't a complete idiot; Turner would be ready now, which made Matt's attack a hundred times more dangerous. He might have a dozen of his best people with him and they might have prepared a solid plan, but against the alerted raiders there were endless things that could go wrong.
“All right,” he whispered once he had them gathered around. “There's a fire burning to the south and four raiders just drove off in the trucks. That leaves six people left in camp, and three of them are busy taking down tents. Now's the perfect time to attack.”
Gutierrez, at the back of the group watching the approach from the bottom of the hill, nodded at that and slipped out of the thicket to head back towards town. His job was to take out the snipers between them and home and cover their escape after they hit the camp.
Once the former soldier was on his way Matt nodded and gave the signal for everyone else to go. Most of his volunteers immediately split into two groups and left the thicket circling the hill to the left and right making for their ambush spots. Matt led Tam and Rick, the rest of his group along with Pete, back up the hill he'd just come down shimmying on his hands and knees.
There were two hills and a low rise within shooting distance of the northern camp. Matt had the group on the closest hill, which also happened to be the tallest, while Chauncey led another group of four to the other hill. That left the rise to Ben's group of four, armed with the .50 caliber rifle and extra Molotov cocktails since they were in the most vulnerable position if the raiders decided to come after them with their trucks.
Since they knew the raiders would be alerted after Lewis and Jane's attack, everyone made an effort to stay out of line of sight of the raiders below. They climbed their hills and the low rise blind, trusting to the agreed upon timing once they were all in position to pop into view of the camp and start the attack. But even if they missed the timing it wouldn't be a disaster, since the most obvious signal to attack would come when Matt and his group opened fire.
For the moment Matt stayed below the peak of the hill with the other two so his motion returning to Pete's position wouldn't give it away. As for Pete, Matt sincerely hoped the young man was able to remain perfectly still for long amounts of time. Pete had been determined and focused since his father died, as he'd clearly demonstrated by how reliably he'd kept his solo night patrols since. But determination alone might not be enough to control twitchy muscles and unexpected cramps.
Unfortunately for the volunteers, before everyone was in position one of those endless things that could go wrong did. Although it wasn't Pete who was the problem, or for that matter any of the defenders.
Wary of possible attack, the three sentries decided to search the area around their camp more thoroughly. Pete saw it, but hesitated to give warning to the other groups over the radio for fear of alerting the raiders who were almost certainly listening in. Instead he hissed quietly down to Matt to let him know what was happening.
Matt weighed the drawbacks of attacking early over one of his groups being spotted and shot at before they were safely in position, and came down on the side of attacking early. He'd motioned to Tam and Rick to follow him, and was just starting to shimmy the rest of the way up the hill to join Pete when he heard a shout of alarm from over near Ben's rise. He fought a surge of panic as it was followed immediately by gunfire from multiple sources. Behind him Tam swore.
“Attack now!” Matt shouted to his group, then suited his words by raising his AR-15 as he sprang the few remaining feet to the top of the hill with Tam and Rick right behind him.
Pete was already shooting, and as Matt scooted into sight of the camp he saw a raider using a tent as cover while he fired in the direction of the rise. Unfortunately that left his back exposed to the hill Matt was on. Matt raised his rifle, targeted carefully, and fired into the small of the man's back, then fired again as quickly as he could reset his am.
With his target leaned forward like that the body armor he wore should've ridden up enough to leave that area vulnerable. Sure enough the raider gave a cry Matt heard even over the deafening racket of gunfire around him and pitched forward, dropping his weapon to clutch at his back with one hand and awkwardly stop his fall with the other. That put him out beyond the cover of the tent, and a moment later one of Ben's people on the rise managed to get a shot in beneath his helmet.
It wasn't a pretty sight. Matt quickly shifted his aim to find another target.
Six against twelve wasn't good odds for the raiders even if they were wearing body armor, had better weapons, and one of the sentries had stumbled onto Ben's group before they were in place and raised the alarm. Three of them fell in the first few seconds of fighting, and the others were pinned down and wide open to being shot from behind by at least one group of volunteers.
It looked as if they'd quickly clear this camp of enemies and have a chance to torch it like Lewis and Jane had the southern camp. Then they could flee for town with Gutierrez clearing the way and be safely there in about twenty minutes or less, depending on the speed they could manage. They might be home celebrating before Turner even knew what had hit him.
That hope was completely dashed when another of the endless things that could go wrong, did. Matt was focused on targeting one of the remaining raiders when he heard the rumble of engines coming fast from two different directions.
The trucks must not have made for the southern camp after all, or had turned back after only going a short distance. Matt ignored the danger as he bolted to his feet to get a look around, just in time to see the two vehicles loop around in different directions, one to get behind the rise and the other Chauncey's hill.
They'd kept the radios off in case Turner used the call button and sent them all tweeting to give away their positions, but as soon as the attack started each of the three groups should've turned on the one they'd brought with them in case they needed to communicate. Matt had actually forgotten to do it in the heat of the moment, and as he fumbled at his belt to turn the knob and snatch his radio up to his mouth he heard Turner's now-familiar voice hurling expletives at them.
He shouted over the stream of abuse. “Ben, Chauncey, the trucks are headed your way! Look out!”
The warning was the best he could do, and he finally remembered the danger he was in standing out in the open like a dolt. He quickly dropped into a crouch, fumbling to clip the radio back onto his belt, and raised his rifle to fire at the truck going for Chauncey's hill.
Before he could line up a shot the truck drove out of sight behind the other hill. Then, almost as if in a nightmare, the retired teacher's position on the hilltop abruptly went up in a deafening explosion.
Even from this
distance and over the noise of the blast Matt heard his friends screaming.
Matt wanted to scream too, not only for the sake of the volunteers who'd just been hit but due to his own terror. The raiders in that truck had a missile launcher with them, and by this point they had to know the exact positions of all three groups. This was exactly what he, what Catherine, what all of them had feared would happen when they'd planned this attack. And it was happening.
Behind him Rick did scream, calling his father's name. That galvanized Matt into action once again, and he tore his eyes from the horrible sight and turned to his group.
“Forget whatever raiders are left in camp!” he shouted, crouch-running to a place that was out of sight of the camp but still had a clear view of the burning hill. “We've got to take out that truck!” He suited his words by lifting his rifle and focusing on the base of the hill, ready to begin shooting once the truck came into view.
Moments later it did, not only driving out far enough to be in view of the hill Matt's group was on but actually making straight for them. Matt emptied his magazine into the swift-moving vehicle as the rest of his group joined him and also started to open fire.
He felt a bit of despair when his .223 rounds seemed to do nothing to the reinforced windows or metal plating and he couldn't seem to hit the tires, but he couldn't afford to give up so he hastily reloaded to begin firing again.
If they couldn't take out that truck it wouldn't just be Chauncey's group that suffered.
While he was jamming a new 30 round magazine into the receiver, the empty one dropping to the ground at his feet, the truck abruptly flipped into a skidding U-turn. For a moment he felt a surge of elation, thinking they'd managed to chase the raiders away, but only until he saw that the vehicle had turned to bring the back of the truck in line with their hill.
