by Angela White
“I can’t take all of you in there with me,” Marc told the group of riders hours later.
They’d just reached the outskirts of Denver and he’d stopped them for a quick meal and split.
“Each group needs to pick two men to go with me. The rest will stay out of Denver and out of sight. We’ll meet two miles south in 24 hours to give the reports.”
“What if they haven’t come yet?” Sebastian asked.
Marc shrugged. “We’ll set up a post and take turns. They won’t get through without our notice.”
Marc waited for a protest and found men stepping forward. The others began heading for the outlaying towns to gather provisions. Marc was pleased. Some of these groups were new to this life, while others had held onto their heritage over the centuries, but all of them were good hands to have.
Marc’s remaining group had been cut to thirty and he waved these men into two lines. “No shooting. Not for any reason.”
Kendle grimaced and eased off the trigger of her gun. If she didn’t spill blood soon, things were going to get ugly.
Their ride through Denver was eerie, but uneventful. There was no sign of the soldiers or anyone else for that matter. The dead city didn’t even creak and groan around them. It smothered them with the decay and the awful vision of the future of this country.
Most of 25 was harsh, ugly landscape that would never be livable again. The Slavers and nature had smothered this city and nothing moved but debris that hadn’t molded into place yet. Tall buildings and bone-dry sewers made for perfect places to plan an ambush and Marc took note of every choke point he found.
Marc quickly determined which intersection was a prime scouting spot and then took his group up high. For some of them, it was an uneasy trip through these remnants of the past, one they suffered with hands on holsters. For others, it produced waves of longing for all that had been stolen. The end result was thirty pissed people on the top floor of the Republic Plaza, waiting to see the men they would try to kill. It would be no easy job, but they would have this anger to drive them through the battle.
Marc contemplated Sebastian, hating what he had to do now. “You and your men will go set up a base camp in Cheyenne. If they come through, you make it clear that you’ll fight to hold what Cesar claimed for your country.”
Sebastian’s lined face was full of disbelief. “You are crazy.”
Marc went on with his plan. “When you threaten to detonate the nuclear warhead that you’re in control of, they’ll report it to their base and go south. They’ll send a special rooting-out team for you.”
“And by then, we’ll be gone,” Sebastian guessed, starting to understand the trap Marc was laying.
“Yes. You’ll be on the battalion’s flank, waiting on them to go through Denver. Once they do, we’ll make sure they can’t turn back by having your group and few others there, picking them off.”
“They could come over 70, or even detour up 76,” Thaddeus pointed out, face buried in the map.
Marc waved a hand at the leader of the newest arrival to join their crusade. “Grendin’s people are in Montana. They’ll make sure the soldiers find only blocked routes. We’ll make a chute and send them straight down to slaughter.”
Marc pointed to a spot along 40, lingering here and there as he spoke. “Once they reach Texas, we attack from both sides, openly, with everything we have. It’s being set up as we speak.”
“And when they enter tribal lands, their path will get rough.”
Atolius’s statement brought protests.
“They’ll know by then.”
‘They’ll avoid it.”
“Yes. Right before they hit Oklahoma, I expect them to detour north.”
Atolius stood up proudly. “My people have longed to return to the plains, as have many others. Perhaps the time has now come for our warriors to scout an area and persuade intruders to stay away.”
Marc clapped him on the shoulder. “Do it now, if you can. You’ll need the time to set up. Stay northeast of 40 and kill as many as you can if they try to punch through.”
“Where will you be?” Natoli asked respectfully. There was little honor for his people if they were all sent way.
“The Ghost is everywhere.”
“And where will Natoli be?”
Marc’s eyes glowed brightly. “By my side, as my cloak. If you’d have that place.”
“I would,” Natoli responded gratefully.
“What if they go south?” Kendle interrupted the male bonding moment rudely.
“There is no south,” Sebastian told her. “South Texas is a ground zero. They will not risk taking their men through a radiation zone during a battle.”
Kendle could find no fault with that and remained silent as Marc went on.
“By the time they get to Oklahoma, we’ll be doing steady damage, but it won’t stop them. We’ll be pushed straight to the base, where my Eagles are preparing for their arrival. We’ll stall them there–dig in. They won’t send more men unless this first group can claim the middle-ground target.”
Marc’s confidence made it easy to believe it could happen like he was predicting. He didn’t tell them it was more likely that the government’s reinforcements would meet at the base to overwhelm them.
“The goal of every man and woman here is to kill five of them before they reach this point.” Marc showed them on the map. “We have to cut their numbers in half or better by then, and convince their command that they’ll lose a lot if they want to continue this fight with us. They don’t have endless soldiers anymore and I know that because they sent ground troops instead of planes.”
“When do we come to the base and fight there?” Red Stone asked, dark face eager.
“When I call to say we’re pinned down.” Marc answered. “Take a two-way radio and box of batteries from the small faraday cage, and don’t forget the code sheets. When I call, all teams and groups will close in and attack simultaneously from all sides. We will also be firing at them from the center and it will create a perfect trap.”
“A duck-shoot,” Kendle stated happily.
“Yes.”
“And what will we use against their armor?” Sebastian asked. “Our guns and Indian arrows will be useless.”
Marc unrolled a small target outline he’d drawn earlier. “Weak points are the neck, here, above the brow, and the inside of the wrists. The one you should concentrate on is the neck. Wait for them to duck or reach for something, and you’ll have a small opening.”
“What about the big guns?” Grendin needed to know. His people were too familiar with those.
Marc patted the paper. “Remember to use their weaknesses. Take out the tripods, or better, the road. If they can’t roll the heavy equipment over it, they’ll have to leave it behind. Any questions?”
“What happens when they take the base?”
Marc grunted. “That’s the ballgame. Get to your people and get ready to defend yourselves. I suggest joining up with Safe Haven. If I survive, that’s where I’ll be.”
“You’ll stay there?” Kendle asked uneasily.
Marc put an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll go home and make a last stand in the mountains.”
Kendle was comforted and Marc’s men were pleased with the plan. Now, he would put them in the mood to fight.
“Get your riders together. There’s an armory not far from here and I’m fairly sure it’s untouched.”
“How is that possible?” Sebastian questioned. “Cesar came through here and picked it clean.”
Marc grinned. “Because it’s underground and there was no need for them to go there. If we don’t grab it tonight, the enemy will have it. There’s one in nearly every state and we’re going to get to them before the soldiers do. They’ll still find ways to arm themselves when their own stocks run out, but by then it’ll be on the same terms as the rest of us–post shtf.”
Marc glanced around. “Slow them down. Get close, pick off a few, and get ghost. Three raids a day, al
ways different times, and all the hatred in your hearts. We’ve declared war this time.”
10
They waited for two full days with no signs of anyone.
Marc knew they were coming, though. He could feel it, and the same was true of the others. Among his own kind–killers–Marc didn’t have to spend time calming these men or easing panic so that they didn’t flee, like he would have had to do with Safe Haven fighters. They knew the golden rule: If you were sent to fight, the enemy, the battle, always came. They just had to suffer through the wait.
Marc sensed them first, but Kendle was close on his heels as he went to the window they’d tinted yesterday to prevent the glare from giving them away. In the other widows, men ducked down and began taking mental notes to help them win.
The first sight of the enemy was intimidating.
The lines of uniformed, neatly marching soldiers sent a shiver into every gut, including Marc’s. It was an entire battalion, like he’d predicted. Serious, quickly moving sets of soldiers marched smartly across the bones and debris long since molded into the hell of their masters. Their hard gazes swiveled continuously, thick guns easy to fire, and Marc kept his men below the window line and silent while he did his recon. These men were strong and it would only take one mistake to get them all killed right here.
“They’re not using standard formation,” Marc muttered, spotting units that were usually support and took half an hour to arrive, now staying within minutes.
“It won’t hold, that pace,” Sebastian observed. “They’ll get tired and gap out.”
Marc agreed, but didn’t stop going through a full consideration of switching plans. When he was satisfied that this was still the best way, he spent a few minutes listing weapons and equipment, and other important details for Kendle to write down.
They all waited tensely for the first part of the miles long battalion to reach the choosing point. Those below the window line kept to themselves, handling their impatience with this part of the plan. Kendle occupied herself by digging the tip of the pen into her leg to see the blood.
“25,” Marc breathed. “Shut up.”
The battalion had to pass the building that the shadow riders were concealed inside of. They’d be trapped if they were spotted.
Marc made his men demonstrate their control and their level of commitment by keeping them under cover until even the sound of the vehicles couldn’t be heard. Kendle, who was now rooting around in her leg with that pen like a surgeon, he left alone.
An hour after the battalion was gone, Marc took his men for a hard ride to get ahead of the soldiers, then held a quick meeting. He told the scouts to leave and do their reporting, eager to be alone with the best few.
“I’ll let the others know and meet you where my rookies are.”
Marc was quickly left with nervous men who were a mix of the races he’d brought along. As they slowly moved down 25 ahead of the soldiers, Marc filled them in on the next part of his plan.
“There’s a scouting party up here. I detoured around them as we came in so that we didn’t give away our element of surprise.” Marc grinned ruthlessly. “Their free pass is over. We’ll kill them all and then go meet up.”
Savage nods and leers met his words, and Marc was satisfied. They were as worried and angry as he was at the sight of the enemy. They wanted to strike hard and do it right now.
“Come dawn, we’ll remind them that they no longer belong on American lands or any other.”
11
Kendle stifled a moan as she observed the campfire below her post. Marc had ordered them to attack just before sunrise, but that was hours away and Kendle wasn’t sure about lasting another ten minutes. The need to spill blood was rolling over her in thick waves. That tiny hope of a cure had vanished after listening to the soldiers talk. The rage sickness was spreading unchecked–another weapon unleashed by the government to wipe out survivors. There was no way they’d give them the cure after all the death and destruction Marc was set to cause. His plans, the few he confided, were lethal ambushes that would spill more blood than she could ever enjoy.
Except that she had to wait and it hurt. The shivers and twitches had come this morning and hadn’t stopped racking her nervous system. Lances of pain had started as they camped.
The men below them had no idea that death was coming. They sat around an open fire, enjoying the cool breeze as they slept and stood watch. There were eight of them, four in their bedrolls, while two had higher positions. The other two soldiers lingered by the small fire, exchanging short bursts of conversation.
Kendle already knew how she would do it. The perimeter men were keeping a loose guard around the others, sometimes stopping to view something on the ground or in the distance. Kendle was sure she could get at least two of them that way, then she’d have to make noise. The silencer on her gun might not echo to the next team, who was half an hour behind this one, but those sleeping men would definitely notice. She would have to be perfect and Kendle didn’t have enough faith in her skills to test that yet. She’d been okay with a rifle on her show and sucked at handguns. It hadn’t changed much.
“Poison them,” the voice inside whispered. “They’ve been on government food since the war. Look at how they keep staring at the dark stores around them.”
Kendle did and saw it was true. They wanted to break orders and go exploring for anything that might have survived the destruction. Maybe she could help them with that.
A few minutes later, Kendle was slipping out of camp with a small bag in her hand. Sebastian hadn’t even haggled, just accepted her trade, and she was glad. Marc hadn’t woken and he was the only one who would stop her.
12
“I’m telling you. I smell chips.”
The private sniffed deeply and groaned. “Mmm. Extra cheesy…”
“And I’m tellin’ you, I’m smoked,” one of the others sneered in response, tired of the line. “So shut up.”
The other men snickered, but each of them understood. To finally be out here and not be able to dig up supplies was maddening. A bag of chips of any kind were worth gold among the ranks.
“I’m gonna take a four minute sweep of that building,” the Private stated calmly. “For possible intruders, you know?”
No one protested. Besides wanting him to shut up about it, each of them had considered voicing the idea themselves, but hadn’t gotten the nerve yet. Command was firm about following orders.
The Private disappearing into the building made them all uneasy and they waited nervously for him to come out.
“Yes! Extra cheesy!”
The call let them relax and grin, knowing he’d found something they would all share in.
The Private emerged from the darkness carrying two familiar bags. One was open.
“Musta popped from the pressure of the desk it was under, but they’re still good!”
He crunched loudly in demonstration and the others crowded close to get their share.
Both bags were quickly gone as the sleeping men were woken to join them and the sound of happy crunching was all the noise any of them could hear.
The Private reached for the dwindling bag, blinking as sweat rolled into his eyes. Was it hot out now?
They stopped eating at roughly the same time, but it was too late. The men began falling unconscious from the chemicals Kendle had rubbed on the outside of the bag.
When all of them were down, she drew her knife and entered their fire light with red orbs and a harsh grin.
13
“Where’s Kendle?”
Marc approached the small crowd angrily, thinking she was in the center, being hurt. What he saw as they parted to let him through chilled his blood.
Marc stared for a long time, considering. She was too far gone to save.
He slowly turned away from the gruesome scene. He had only one place left to go for answers.
“How do I help her?”
The demon roused himself tiredly. He was read
y for this, knew to be prepared, but it was still regret in his answer. “Nothing. Only Adrian’s light might, but the odds are slim.”
“Why can’t I heal her?”
“You would use your new life credit on this woman?”
“No. If I have a credit to give, it belongs to my son,” Marc answered slowly, thinking it through and still missing what that meant.
“As you wish.”
“What if…what if someone else does it?”
“Any of our kind may heal,” the demon replied. “If they can push it back enough, Adrian can help.”
Marc was relieved to have a solution he could live with. He waved Sebastian and Natoli along, and carefully went to where she was still slicing freely. “Kendle?”
Kendle spun around, throwing her knife, and Marc used his kit to capture the blade.
He grinned, impressed. “Nice.”
Kendle blinked away the haze, but not the lust.
“Not me,” Marc denied. “One of the others and then you’ll be his or passed around.”
Kendle snarled. “I make my own rules!”
“Then I’ll shoot you here and now,” he warned.
Kendle wanted him to. She was horrified by what she’d become. She was also a survivor, a child of the light who yearned to be normal.
Kendle slid to her knees. “Help me or kill me. You pick it.”
Marc approached her without any signs of fear and scooped her into his arms.
Kendle let Marc take her back to camp. When he held a canteen toward her, she dutifully cleaned up, not caring that dozens of men stared as she stripped and changed into the clean clothes Marc held out. She liked the hot feeling, liked the respect and envy they gave Marc for it. She also loathed it and longed for her little island. She’d been happy there, once upon a time.
14
“Here they come. Remember what I’ve shown you, how you’ve practiced,” Marc eased them into battle-mode, aware of nerves. “Not one sighting, not one crunch of gravel.”
Marc pulled his mask down, shoving into their minds. “We are the ghosts of America. We do this for our country, because she cannot do it for herself.”
Eager to live up to that reputation, the thirty fighters in the rocks around him covered their grins and their posts. The things Brady had begun to teach them was the stuff of legend and fantasy. They couldn’t wait to practice it on the enemy.
