by Vance Huxley
Sarge knew that sooner or later he’d be answering questions about women under the bypass, so he was quite happy to divert the officer again. “If they don’t take prisoners, then they can’t expect Geneva Conventions when the sword is in the other hand. Payback is apparently a bitch, sir.” He watched the initial shock on the captain’s face, followed by a small smile.
The officer nodded, very gently. “In this case, it appears that she truly is.”
* * *
“The shelling has stopped!” Patton’s voice jerked the General awake. He rubbed at his eyes as someone pushed a radio into his hand. “Get my men out of there, now!”
The General listened for a few moments, hearing a single shot but no shells. A machine gun fired a burst. “Stopped? Is the Army here?”
“No, but one of the watchers has seen lights on the bypass, coming this way. We’ve got a few minutes.” Branson held up his radio. “What about the rocket launchers?”
“Tell them to get the hell out of here. If the Army arrive and a drone sees them it could be too tempting, especially if our men are breaking out.” He heard more shooting but the General raised his hand to stop his shooters gathering at the windows. “Don’t shoot at the Army, not with reinforcements coming. This is point blank range for a tank. Pack up your gear because we’re heading out as well.”
“Bagsy a new motor.” Laughter spread through the MiB shooters because there were a lot of tasty motors that didn’t have owners, parked right outside with the keys in.
Patton waited until the General started talking to someone in Orchard Close, one of the Pink Panthers, then he headed downstairs. There were a couple of his wounded men watching the motors. They could take one each and meet the Bloods, give them a lift out of trouble. He moved faster when he heard more shooting, then a bugle blowing.
* * *
“They’re moving, packing up.” Ru’s sentry scrambled back through the wall, trying to keep her voice quiet. “Everyone is getting into cars, and they’ve attached the launchers to vans. There were people moving about in the dark, overnight, so I reckon the ammo has already been loaded along with the badly injured.” She looked from Ru to Charger, and back. “What do we do now?”
“Not a suicide mission.” Charger removed his hand from Ru’s arm when she looked down at it. “Sorry, but there’s no need to die. The rockets are leaving. It’s over.” The news, and Charger’s reaction, spread through the group and people began to relax, but then firing broke out, towards Orchard Close!
“That’s Jilly’s bugle!” Ru came to her feet, turning towards the rockets but pausing. “We can’t, not now, not unless the launchers come back. What about those rifles in the farm? Did any cars come from that direction?”
“No, none.” The sentry started to smile. “Can’t be more than thirty of them in there.”
“That’s less than two to one.” Ru patted her rifle. “If we kill half of them in the first volley, when they go for their cars, we outnumber them.”
“We can handle those odds, even with amateurs and wounded, and it’ll stop those rifles shooting at Patty and Emmy.” Charger came to his feet as did most of the squad, checking weapons and tightening belts.
“First we have to sneak past the wounded.” The roar of engines as more vehicles followed the rocket launchers brought a few chuckles. “That’s very nice of them. Move fast, but don’t get there winded.” Ru turned to the scouts. “Crossbows ready. If you see a sentry, they die before making a noise.”
“Demon darts. We should patent them. Silent, deadly, and artistic.” Rihannon twirled a Liz special between her fingers before slotting it into her crossbow. By the time she had, half the squad were through the wall, heading through the ruins and brambles in the direction of the farm. The rest followed, limping or nursing other injuries but still clutching weapons.
Less than ten minutes later, the first scouts found the General’s car park. By the time Ru’s fighters caught up there were two cooling corpses, both with crossbow bolts between their shoulder-blades. “In the back? Not very good guards, were they?” Charger nudged one with his foot.
“They seemed to be choosing vehicles, laughing and joking.” The scout, Rihannon, shrugged before pointing at a house. “When we first snuck up, a really big bloke went in there.”
“So do we set up here, or go and get them?” Charger hefted his mace, obviously happier with attacking now.
“There’s too much cover to wait for them here. It would turn into a sniping war among all these cars.” Ru turned to the nearest fighters. “Pass the word. We don’t know where everyone is, but we know there’s someone in that house ahead so we’ll take it first. Move through the cars as fast as possible, line abreast. Once there, we sneak in if we can and then, well, we’ve practiced house clearance.” As the message went down the line, several fighters pulled out bombs, ready. With one last glance each way, Ru started running.
As she swerved through the cars, Ru wondered if she was doing the right thing. She could hear shooting and explosions so Patty had definitely attacked, unless the Army had. Even if it was the Army, the General shouldn’t get away with the rifles. Her concentration wavered as someone laughed. “Where’s my keys when I need them? I could ruin a million quid’s worth of paintwork in five minutes flat.”
“First we ruin the General’s paintwork, then you can use his keys. Now hush.” The woman hadn’t spoken loudly, but as Ru came nearer to the house she could just imagine the men crouched behind the windows, ready. She froze for a moment as the door opened, but a crossbow bolt threw the man sideways into the door post and he fell with a grunt.
“He’s got his rifle slung.” Charger’s mace made sure of the victim. “And he’s carrying spare ammo. They’re moving out.” The boxes were scattered on the floor, one broken open.
“No alarm yet.” Ru peeked through the half-open back door, then pulled back. “Charger, the sign says that’s the loo on the left, take a quick look. I’ll check the room on the right, but the door is wide open so I’m betting on empty. Ava, you back up Aaron and Theo. Go through the door straight ahead, but not until you hear us start upstairs. Clear the room then check the kitchen. The rest, drag that bloke clear then follow me up the stairs.” Ru crept through the back door, glancing through into the empty room before heading upwards, treading as lightly as possible. Charger opened the loo door, glanced at the toilet and bath, and closed it again. As she reached the landing at the top, Ru could hear voices ahead, in the front bedrooms. Men were arguing and shouting about something, but nobody came to look so maybe they were watching the fight. At least the rifles weren’t shooting. Behind Ru a crocodile of breathless men and women, clutching pistols, blades or bombs, shuffled and limped upstairs after her.
* * *
Patton had told his men to sort out two big motors, then come back for ammo. The General had stacked all the spare weapons and ammo in the front room with the rocket woman, and put a guard on them. Right now the Bloods would have empty pistols, or maybe no pistol, so he’d take spare firearms and ammo. That ponce Scrooge had better not object. Patton wondered if it might be time to move on, leave the General. Him and that sneaky fuck Rhys would be scheming, but Patton knew what he’d do if he was the GOFS or Barbies: finish the General now.
He swerved into the bog for a piss. The dirty bastards had left the pan full of shit instead of using a bucket of water to flush it, so he pissed in the sink. Someone looked into the washroom. Before Patton could speak the door closed, but he’d been behind it so he didn’t see who it was. He listened, hearing people in the hallway, moving quietly. Rhys had persuaded the fucking General to sneak off and leave the Bloods to die! The big man yanked up his zip, then pulled the door open.
He froze for a moment, as did the woman in front of him and the men and women to either side. Armed men and women, strangers! Pistols and blades started to lift so Patton punched the woman, caught her as she bounced off the wall and swung her at the woman to his left, fouling her gun
and sword. He rammed a shoulder into the man standing between him and the back door, grabbing a wrist and smacking it on the wall. The pistol fell, but Patton was too close for a machete so he picked the man up by his vest, using him as a ram to clear the two women in the doorway. As the three of them staggered or fell Patton took a diving leap over a car, pulling his pistol and machete. He aimed up at the car bonnet, ready for whoever followed, but nobody shouted and the door slammed shut!
When he rolled to his feet there wasn’t a sign of all those fighters. He’d no idea why they hadn’t come after him, but Patton would bet on one waiting for some sucker to open the door again. Just for a moment Patton almost charged back in anyway, but then he smiled. The automatics would sort those idiots out, but not before they got a few licks in. Let those poncy fucking MiB shooters try some real fighting, then see if they still sneered at the Bloods. Patton turned away from the firmly closed door, jogging through the cars towards his motor. He paused when he found the bodies of his two men, but when he checked his car the machine gun and ammo were still inside. Even with that sort of firepower one car wouldn’t be enough to help many survivors. Patton picked up the radio on the dashboard.
“Any Bloods who can hear me, and anyone who doesn’t fancy Army food, get the fuck out. Tell any Bloods you see, Patton said go home.” As he repeated the message, firing broke out behind him but Patton gunned the motor, heading off to catch the rocket convoy. Julius might be a bit of a ponce, but he’d get down in the dirt with the fighters and bloody a blade if he had to. They could work something out, maybe retire the fucking General.
* * *
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot.” Rihannon lowered her pistol as she realised why. There were a lot of blokes upstairs, armed to the teeth.
She turned back to help pick up dropped weapons. “Who was that?”
“How should I know?” Everyone spoke in whispers but someone shushed them, though not in time to stop a final comment. “I’m pleased he’s not in there, waiting.”
“Leave her here.” The punched girl, Cassie, still couldn’t stand or talk and her jaw looked crooked. “Now hurry.”
Before the others could start moving again, the door to the front room opened. Whatever the man in a suit and wraparound shades had expected, it wasn’t the Riot Squad! He started to move back, his hand fumbling for the stubby automatic on a sling, but Ava, Cooper’s ex-victim, already had her hand out to open the door. With a low growl she leapt on him, wrapping her arm around his head and stuffing her fist into his mouth, as best she could while holding a Rambo. The man’s eyes opened wide as he tried to push her off to get to his weapon or shout, but Ava clung on.
Aaron leant forward, poised, waiting for his moment to thrust through the bloke’s throat, but then the gangster collapsed. An older woman stood there, holding a shotgun by the barrel. She raised it again but Ava still straddled the gangster. The stunned man still pawed at her, but weakly so Ava pulled her fist out of his mouth to stab down, again and again. It wasn’t pretty, or efficient, but he couldn’t scream with his throat chopped into mince.
Aaron pointed his pistol at the woman, then lowered it and raised a finger to his lips. He pointed upstairs. “We don’t want them disturbed, not yet.” As Ava stood up, he bent and quickly pulled the stubby automatic free. He straightened, then stared dumbstruck at the heap of weapons and ammo. “Why the cripes would they leave those behind?”
“Who cares?” Theo, the other fit member of Roy’s group, shrugged and picked up a shotgun, passing it to Ava. He quickly sorted out some shells for her, one-handed because he’d caught a bullet in the breakout. “Come on Aaron, let’s check the kitchen and get upstairs. The others might need that firepower. Ava, watch her, and this lot. You should have enough ammo.”
As the pair left, Ava pointed the shotgun at the woman. “So what’s your story?”
* * *
Upstairs the fighters spread out along the landing so they could hit every room at once, but a door opened. “I’ll need more help if we’re loading all that ammo.” The man was talking to someone in the room, but as his head started turning Ru thrust, just above his armoured jacket. He dropped back, the Rambo tearing his throat open as voices called out in panic.
“Bombs, now!” Bombs flew past Ru, into the room, but she couldn’t close the door because of the body so she threw herself sideways. Along the corridor doors were yanked open, then slammed shut and held until after the big bangs. In the next four seconds several bursts of automatic fire punched through the walls, sending men and women staggering, screaming or falling until the explosions started.
Before the occupants could recover, Ru’s fighters charged in, shooting and stabbing anyone that moved. Some were still shooting back. Silence finally fell, punctuated by weeping and the sounds of people in agony. Charger staggered out of the room and knelt beside Ru. “Keep still, very still because it went right through the plates on your skirt and jeans. Er, can I?” He held up a Rambo. “To get to the wound?”
“Here, I’ll do it.” Cleo, once one of Caddi’s sex slaves, took the knife. “I did first aid for some of the brothel girls.” Charger got the hell out of there in case she decided to use the knife on him. Cleo leant over Ru. “Bite on something, love, because this will be a bitch.”
“First aid pack.” Ru tried to move, to get it, but fell back with a sharp cry.
Cleo took Ru’s hand and put it on her leg, then positioned her thumb. “Keep pushing there.” The lass opened the package and laughed. “Wow, how the other half live. I wish we’d had this stuff in the brothel. Don’t worry, Ru, I’ll get that cleaned and stopped up in no time.” She set into cutting away Ru’s jeans, before cleaning the wound and bandaging a dressing in place. “Keep it still because that’s a big hole. At least it hasn’t gone right through.” Ru only cried out twice, then once more when she insisted Cleo got her onto her feet.
When the two women hobbled into the room, Charger held up a stubby automatic like the ones the police used to carry. “I reckon this is what got you. There’s two more in here but the scroats are dead, all except one who curled up in a corner. He says the General kept him a sort of a captive because he knows a lot, and he wants to talk to Soldier Boy.”
Ru nodded, only half-listening as she sank down onto a folding chair. “This is handy.”
“Hey Ru, a bloke just ran out of Orchard Close but someone shot him.” Wade laughed, a little hysterically because carpenters didn’t usually charge machine guns. Some of the hysteria could be euphoria at surviving relatively unscathed, cut and bruised rather than shot. “And another. If they were nearer we could help, because there’s lots of rifles here. Most of these blokes had one slung on their backs, ready to leave.”
Ru jerked up, then bit off a curse and sat back. “If they’re running this way they’ll get near enough to hit, eventually. Prop me up by a window and get me my rifle, please.” She sighed when she saw the smashed sights, then cheered up. “Find me a big posh rifle, one with a big telescopic sight. Adapt and overcome.” Cleo helped her to a window while Charger brought the chair. Ru looked out, this time smiling properly. “A big bunch of scroats are gathering in the Annex.” She inspected the weapon and ammo Wade handed her. “Now I’ve got the right rifle, and lots of brand-new ammo to practice with.”
* * *
Almost eighty gangsters gathered in the Annex, mostly men who had heard Patton’s call or been told about it. When heavy firing broke out inside the cluster of buildings near their cars they hesitated, but then silence fell. The gangsters took their chance, hobbling, hopping and scrambling over the wall before heading for their motors—and escape. When first one rifle, then several more began to fire from the houses, men began to fall. Up on the bypass the captain turned to Sarge. “What the hell is that?”
“A group broke out of the Annex, the six big houses, during the fighting. They disappeared into the darkness. Maybe that smaller group weren’t reinforcements after all?” Sarge had his little smile bac
k now, but then it disappeared. “Damn. They’re flanked by those newcomers, aren’t they?”
“Yes, and I distinctly heard automatics over there a moment ago. I’ll call the artillery.”
“Not yet sir, please.” Sarge thought fast, hoping the captain would pretend to believe him. “If the flankers attack, those rifles and automatics will cause heavy casualties. The defenders might even win, sir, but either way it’ll thin out the local gangs.”
“I think those ladies down there are already managing that but yes, we’ll get a bigger body count that way.” He fixed the sergeant with a stern look. “No matter who ends up in those buildings, I’ll be calling artillery.” The captain and the sergeant watched as the escaping gangsters swerved aside, headed for their hidden reinforcements after one of them came out of cover to beckon. Only a few of those shooting were even close to accurate, but the rifles took a steady toll as the retreating group drew out of range. The battered and beaten men paused at the edge of the fields, waiting for the worst injured to catch up.
Some of the escaping men weren’t interested in joining up with the newcomers. They ran directly away from the farm, heading north towards empty ruins. Fifty yards short, five were knocked off their feet by gunfire from ahead. Within seconds the other six died as well. Tolly, the lieutenant, pointed in that direction. “We picked up heat signatures in the ruined houses just there, sir, maybe half a dozen. They’re leaving now. I expected them to loot the bodies.”
“Maybe they’ve realised anywhere on these fields is in accurate range for at least three of the rifles down there.” The captain glanced at the Army marksmen. “It’s a pity we can’t compare cameras, to see who has the longest kill shot.” He looked closer, frowning. “Corporal, your weapon seems to be defective. A wire is hanging loose.”
“Sorry sir, the camera feed has fallen out.” The corporal kept facing Orchard Close because if he laughed he’d lose his stripes. One of the other shooters glanced his way, but none of them plugged their cameras back in. There were still targets, and none of them wanted the Army complaining the corpse hadn’t been carrying a rifle. Nearer to Orchard Close wounded men were trying to find cover rather than escape, because there were now four rifles firing from Orchard Close. Two shooters were very good, but the other pair sometimes took several shots to finish their man.
