by Vance Huxley
* * *
The winners in the farm watched as the escapees were beckoned towards the ruins. “We’ve been flanked. We have to get out.”
“Why? We only just arrived and got comfortable.” Ru wrenched the baseball bat to tighten the tourniquet on her leg. A scatter of empty brass lay around her. She’d firing continuously except when the pain was bad enough to affect her accuracy.
Charger showed her the infra-red binoculars he’d just found. “Because there’s another small army of heavily-armed nutters over there, in the ruins where those scroats are heading.” He sighed, fatigue and grief etching deep lines in his face. “We did it. We beat them, but they just keep coming. Unless the rocket convoy found friends and came back?” He half-smiled at Ru. “At least Cherie is safe—and Gulab. If the survivors stay outside the wire, our kids won’t ever have to live this way.”
Ru smiled back at him, though it took an effort. Just for a few moments she’d thought it would happen, she’d get to see Gulab running free out in the fields, but it wasn’t to be. She scrubbed away a few tears. “Keep an eye on Wamil and Gulab for me, will you, like you promised? Please? Wamil will do her best, but she’s in a bad way so she’ll need help.”
“I’d love to, but I don’t think any of us will make it this time.” Charger took a quick look out of the window, but the runners were still waiting on the last two laggards. “Still, if it’s a last stand I’ve got a machine gun so I can do a proper Rambo.”
“You can still escape, get through the wire. Steal some cars from out back, drive towards the Hot Rods for half a mile, then use the biggest car to take the wire down.” Ru pointed towards the ruins. “If they see another mob coming the rest of the Riot Squad will do the same, get out under the wire. Patty and Mercedes won’t let the girls die for no reason.” Ru paused, because that wasn’t quite true. “Patty and Emmy won’t. If Harold’s dead, I don’t think Mercedes will run.”
“We’ll never make it. We’ll be overrun before we’ve got the wounded loaded up.” Charger already knew the answer but he didn’t want to do it, or even make the suggestion.
“Find a few volunteers to help me use some of these lovely rifles the nutters left us, and we’ll slow the bastards up long enough.” Ru had already said goodbye to Gulab, in her heart, twice since the General arrived, but the third time still hurt. She kept her voice level, patting the gleaming weapon. “I’m the best shot here so this is my job, and anyway it would be a shame to waste all that practice. Take most the guns but leave one of those automatics. Then when the first one comes through the door we can do the Rambo bit for you. We know the bullets go straight through the wall.”
Charger leant forward to put a hand on the small woman’s shoulder and squeezed, briefly. A quick discussion followed, before two more badly wounded took up positions. Aaron had taken at least one bullet through his hip, so he couldn’t shoot from a window. “Lay me across the top of the stairs with that dinky machine gun.” He bit back a laugh, because that would hurt like hell. “Sorry Ru, I’m going to pinch your Rambo moment, but I’ll give you time to get a few more with the rifles.”
Ru shook her head, unable to answer for a moment as tears threatened, again. Charger rescued her, asking if anyone else was staying. Rihannon wouldn’t be leaving. She’d taken a burst right through the wall and her gut, and bled out before the firing died down. Two more had been killed outright, while most of the rest had some sort of wound, many of them from the automatics. Another injured fighter picked a rifle and a window because she’d run too far, too often, and she’d just had enough.
“As soon as the scroats break cover, we’ll open up. They’ll hit the dirt when the first one goes down. Take the best motors down there, then drive like bloody maniacs.” Ru plastered the smile on, though the tears dripping off her chin spoiled the effect. “You may as well steal their favourite poser wheels while you’re at it.”
“Make them bleed, Ru.” Charger went downstairs to grab some extra ammo and check the cars, rubbing at his own eyes. He found Ava splashing diesel on the floorboards around the stacked weapons and ammo.
“They’re not getting this lot. How big a bang will it make?” She brandished a Molotov, taken from a milk crate full of the fire bombs.
“Not much, but once the ammo starts going off nobody will come near the house until it stops. Sorry, but I can’t let you because Ru is staying to keep the scroats busy. We don’t have a timer or long fuse.” Charger held out a hand for the fire bomb.
“I don’t need a fuse, not if I stay here until the bastards come through the back door. This shotgun will give the fire a chance to get a proper hold.” She put her hand on her pistol. “I hope you don’t try to stop me, and I really hope you never knew what Cooper did to us, to me.” For a moment Charger thought Ava would go for him. “But you knew it was bad, and you did nothing about it. I can’t sleep properly, even after seeing his body, because I can’t forget.” Ava lifted the bottle wrapped in rags. “No more dreams after this.”
Charger nodded, almost accepting what she said. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth, but I’m pleased you never had to choose between protecting your own daughter or someone else’s. That’s not an excuse, just why.” He really hadn’t known details, and never wanted to because he’d concentrated on keeping Lily and Cherie alive. Even so, Charger knew he’d never feel right about it.
Ava didn’t answer directly, but she nodded towards the older woman stood against the wall. “This is Maisie. She isn’t your daughter, but she can make those rockets so maybe you’ll rescue her.” Charger jerked his head towards the door, and Maisie headed that way. He really didn’t want to push Ava any further just now.
* * *
In Orchard Close, none of the victorious Riot Squad knew about the new arrivals in the ruins. Mercedes hadn’t even checked over the wall. She’d looked at bodies, and asked the others, but she couldn’t find ’Arold. Nobody could. She set into one of the three heaps of rubble that used to be fortified houses, throwing bricks out into the garden. “Mercedes. We’ll look, later.”
Mercedes tried to straighten, but it hurt so she stayed hunched over to ease her ribs. She raised a tearstained face. “I need to know. Now. I need to see him, just to check. He might be alive.”
Those nearby looked at the heap of rubble then two men, non-combatants and virtually unharmed, shrugged and started to toss bricks aside. They’d barely started when familiar thunder broke over the city, away from the bypass! “There’s more, out in the ruins. They’re shooting!” The young voice cracked. “Oh my God, not again.”
Patty saw Mercedes straighten, and her ribs didn’t have any effect at all. In a smooth twist and turn the young woman collected a shotgun wrapped in a coat, and faced Patty. Demon watched the grieving Mercedes die, saw those sad brown eyes blank and the Killer Queen step forward. Even her voice changed; emotionless, cold, and adamant. “Well, if that’s what they want. I’ve nothing better to do now, anyway.”
Given half a chance Patty would have tried to defend the walls, even with the breaches, but the Riot Squad had reached the end of the road. She doubted any of them was uninjured, because the fit ones had thrown themselves against the gangsters again and again to protect the amateurs and injured. It had been touch and go even then, and if the gangsters hadn’t broken the result might have been very different. “There aren’t enough fit fighters left.” Even the fit ones might not stand because Patty had seen the first ones crack, just stop fighting and shooting and start crying, but luckily they’d kept going long enough. “We have to get the survivors clear, through the wire, as fast as possible. We can still have a life out there, Mercedes. It’s what Harold wanted.” Patty didn’t think Mercedes even heard her, but then she got an answer.
“Not good enough. My future is under there.” Mercedes gestured at the rubble. “If I can’t find him that way, there’s another way to reach where my ’Arold has gone.” Her wintry smile was pure Killer Queen, without any humour at all. “I ca
n give you a bit of extra time. By the time those scroats get in here, they will be very cautious. Get everyone out, Patty. Get back to knitting bobble hats and baby clothes.”
“I’ll stay.”
“Me too, because my future’s under the bricks as well.”
“Mine is by the gate.” Others went to find long guns and ammo.
“I can’t run, not with this limp.” Bethany had found Tilly. Now she just wanted to kill someone—anyone.
“It’s the cripesing Barbies! And another lot but those wigs are cripesing obvious!” The young woman sounded excited, waving her arms about or maybe at the Barbies.
Patty grunted because that felt like a kick in the guts. “It’ll be the GOFS. I thought he’d been stopped by Gofannon, but even Vulcan’s double-crossed me.”
“No, no! They’re chasing the others, the General’s arseholes, back out of the ruins. Nobody is shooting at us. Now they’re chopping the cripes-holes into bits!” A stampede to the wall nearly trampled the lass. Sure enough, the blonde heads were clearly visible, as was bright metal rising and falling. There was no other sign of the retreating gangsters. Here and there in the fields a few men were standing, slowly, with one or both hands high above their heads. When Mercedes reached the wall she swore and pulled out the H&K, but Patty pushed the barrel down.
“Let them come in close.” The Demon, not Patty, pointed to the bodies below the wall, out of sight of the bypass. “Get them to line up down there.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t take prisoners, did they?” The men stumbling towards Orchard Close should have looked closer at the smiles along the wall.
* * *
“Bloody animals. Worse than that. What’s that about? Don’t they want to share the loot?” The captain looked around and beckoned for his lieutenant. “We’d better get down there and rescue those women. Unless they shoot at us.”
“Not yet sir. The young women in Orchard Close don’t seem too worried. Are any of the new arrivals wearing blonde wigs?” Sarge fought to keep his voice level, when he wanted to dance a jig because he’d already had a look.
“What? You think it’s those nutcases?” The captain raised his binoculars. “Yes, it’s those lunatics. They’re all criminals!”
“Maybe, but they visit here and seem to be good friends. Look down there sir. The defenders don’t seem worried.” In fact, there were even a few people dancing about, waving their arms and cheering as the chopping died away out near the ruins.
“We’ll wait, but if they start advancing we are going in.” The captain fixed Sarge with a glare. “There’s still those automatics you say you heard.”
“Sir.” Sarge checked and the captain had his attention firmly fixed on the gangsters, so the NCO let his smile come.
“Tolly, call in the artillery on those houses over there, the ones with the automatics.”
That wiped out Sarge’s smile! “No! Er, sorry sir, but there’s no need. Harold always promised to hand over any automatics, so why don’t we ask nicely? He’ll give us the ones from the enclave as well.” Sarge knew he’d get real shit now, and sure enough the captain scowled.
“During a nice little chat over a cuppa? Just how friendly are these women and your men? There’s been comments.” Despite his earlier crack about the women capturing soldiers, the captain still looked suspicious.
“Nothing like that sir. Nobody came past the sandbags, but he’s ex-Army and has always been friendly and helpful.” Though Sarge knew the rules of engagement didn’t allow friendly.
“Sir, this is where the muskets came from.” Sarge could have kissed Tolly, the lieutenant, or bought him a beer at least because the captain turned onto a new target.
The officer gave the lieutenant a look up and down. “Have you been out here getting friendly, Tolly?”
“Not really sir. Kate would cut them off.” The lieutenant didn’t seem worried about the captain’s dig. “Remember what the report said, about the sheer power of the muskets and the size of the ball? They’d have come as a real surprise to our lads, sooner or later.”
The captain turned back to Sarge. “You seem to have a convert so we’ll wait and see. Tolly, set some of these idle soldiers on watching those buildings. If anyone tries to leave towards the city, call the artillery and chase them home.” The officer jerked round and stared off over the battlefield. “What now? Thunder?”
A corporal called from one of the lorries. “No thunderclouds sir. An explosion maybe because there’s some smoke a couple of miles to the west. Perhaps those are the rockets because the drone can’t find any sign of launchers in the vicinity.” The NCO turned to talk to someone before reporting. “No more fighting nearby but I’d rather not send the drone off to look. There are still a lot of armed people in the vicinity.”
“Watch those houses by the traffic island. Let me know if anyone leaves with an automatic.” The captain lifted his binoculars as another dull boom sounded in the distance. “Not much smoke, but something definitely blew up.”
* * *
A few moments earlier, right where the drone could see smoke, Julius had been relieved to get clear without the artillery hitting the launchers. He acknowledged the message from the rear telling him Patton had joined them, wondering if the Army had finished off the Bloods and the others in the enclave. Once again he ran the numbers, wondering if this was the right time. He’d never totally settled for serving the General, even if the arrangement had saved the residents of his own enclave. Now, with the rockets, he might be able to split away again and make it stick.
Fifty-seven wounded gangsters, mostly Pink Panthers and Jets, were in the front cars because Julius didn’t trust them, or the GOFs and Barbies. Those cars would spring any ambush, then forty of his own men and the launchers could deal with the problem. As he wondered about pushing the rest of his men, the rearguard, forward, the radio burst into life! Julius snatched up his set to tell the stupid sods to keep radio silence, then he got the gist of the shouted message. Just around the corner, the GOFs or Barbies had parked two vans across the road.
“Jets and Pinkies, pull onto the gardens at the side and open fire. My men, line up right across the road. Keep the idiots occupied while we set up the…” Julius recognised the sound that drowned out everything else, and knew this would sting. “Everyone, charge now, before they reload! Rocket launchers, set up fast and dirty. Just bury the area with explosives.”
The garbled shouting and screaming coming from the radio wasn’t promising, so Julius asked the Jeep driver to move up around the corner. The cannon must have used a solid ball because one car had been tossed into the next one, which had slewed round so the pair blocked the road. The cannon had terrified the wounded Pinkies and Jets. As a hail of bullets hit them the gangsters broke, some running away from their cars while others tried to drive clear. The rockets wouldn’t get a clear shot. “Move up, move up. Everyone attack, now!” Only Julius’s own men paid any attention. The other men and cars were scattering, trying to get between the houses either side, but even as Julius watched one of the cars stopped dead as it hit a concrete fencepost. Another two collided, and the occupants shot at each other!
“Boss! Look out behind!” The bodyguard opened up with his automatic, but when Julius turned it wasn’t going to make any difference.
“The Bren carrier? How?” The armour-clad monster charged out from between two houses and literally trampled a car, splitting the convoy; then the passengers opened up in both directions. Bombs wouldn’t work this time because the GOFS had been busy. The open top now had a curved roof with loopholes. Julius froze for a moment, stunned, then dropped into his seat, shouting to his driver. “Get the hell out of here, as fast as possible. Head for home.” He raised his radio. “Julius here. Break away, break away. Rendezvous at Julius home base, Julius home base. Every man for himself! Run, now!” The Jeep swerved, heading for a driveway between two houses as Julius repeated the message again and again.
Julius
’s men knew exactly how to get out of an ambush, from last time. They headed for empty garages, to smash through, or driveways that went between houses, shooting anyone who got in the way. The panicking Pinkies and Jets milled around in panic before some found a way out. Behind them the vans towing launchers had no chance. The behemoth had driven out right behind them, sealing them into the ambush. Ahead of them the cannon fired again, a storm of small lead balls ripping apart an attempt by some of the Pink Panthers and Jets to make a stand. Among the vehicles still on the road the first white bandages were waved frantically, in surrender.
Patton had stayed with the rearguard, among the ten Bloods whose job was to stop Julius getting ambitious with the launchers. Now he wrenched the wheel over, using his own radio to reinforce Julius’s orders. The Bloods and Julius’s rearguard were facing armour at point-blank range, right out in the open, not a fight even the Bloods could win. The rearguard scattered, with about half the cars getting clear. Patton kept his foot down, bouncing over any obstacles because he had to get through Barbie territory before the dykes started hunting!
11 – We Battered Few
Back at Orchard Close eleven mobile survivors reached the wall, out of sight from the bypass. Fifteen fit fighters with bared blades dropped from the wall to join them, mostly the young women and men who had joined since Caddi’s attack. They’d been firing pistols rather than fighting hand-to-hand, but they’d all practiced hacking on doors with machetes. After a few cries of disbelief or pain, half a dozen moved out to ‘assist’ the wounded gangsters laid among the bodies in the fields. There weren’t many because most of the wounded had staggered or crawled into Orchard Close overnight, while the rifles had shot any escapees until they stopped twitching.
