"Sir," a Somerton man said. "We've got a group moving toward our right flank."
He nodded and said, "Then stop them. We're going to slaughter these fuckers. Do you understand me?"
The other man nodded and returned to his position.
I don't see what's so damn hard about this. Declan acted like this was difficult. Probably a damn mind game. I've got this.
Walker fired his weapon again and again, trying his best to steady his aim. This was a lot harder than target practice. It was even harder than shooting at the bus. In combat, people move around. Targets and stationary buses? Not so much.
Shot after shot, more and more misses. Screw this, he thought, the turned his head. "Bring it up," he called out.
Two men in the rear drug up the apparatus. They set up the tripod first, the loaded up the box with the long tube, securing it into place.
One of the men crawled back and brought up an ammo can and opened it up, taking the belt of ammunition and loading it into the box-like form, then closing the top.
Walker smiled as he took his position behind the weapon. He pulled back on the handle and released it, then placed both hands on the dual grips in the rear. He noticed there was no trigger like he was used to. Instead, there appears to be a flat piece of metal in between the two grips.
He pressed against the plates, causing the weapon to spit out a burst of metal and flame as its roar ripped through the air.
Walker smiled. "Get 'em set up down the line. I'm tired of screwing around with this shit."
** ** **
The machine gun ripped through the smaller trees and brush, the bullets tearing into anyone unlucky enough to be caught in their path. Billy raised his AK, aiming at one of the machine gunners. He steadied his breathing as best he could, his heart raced worse than he'd ever experienced. The front sight post bounced, making it difficult.
As he began pressing on the trigger, the tree he used as cover shredded as a dozen or more rounds plowed deep into the wood, ripping it apart.
Instinctively, Billy pushed down low and crawled into a depression a few yards away. He looked around at what looked to be a dried creek bed, probably runoff from another time in the stream's life, and saw a number of his people had done the same, finding safety beneath the range of the machineguns.
"Well," Mal yelled from behind the downed tree, "this is new."
"You think?" he fired back.
Mal smiled. "It's not another L-shaped ambush."
"Damn. Guess they learned a new trick, huh?"
The Ranger shrugged. "We sure could use some grenades right now, don't you think?"
"You got any?"
Mal shook his head. "No. You guys don't?"
"I wish."
"SIR!" a voice called from Billy's other side.
Billy turned. "What?" he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.
"We've got to get out of here. They're tearing us to shreds," the man said, his voice trembling and high pitched.
Billy laughed. "And do what? Those guns have the range to tear us to shreds before we can get out."
The wide eyed man looked around, then said, "Fuck this. I'm out of here." He stood up from the creek bed and ran to the rear. After three steps, the machinegun rounds tore through his body, dropping him in an instant.
Billy cursed.
"So," Mal said, pulling his attention back to the Ranger, "what now?"
"In theory, we should be assaulting through the ambush."
Mal nodded. "And we're not…why?"
"I like breathing."
"Fair enough."
Jason, I could kick your ass for putting me in this mess, he thought, then brought his AK to his shoulder and fired toward the machine gunner. He was firing blind. Almost literally. The idea was to try and make it so the gunners weren't so eager to keep their heads up.
"We've got to suppress the machineguns," Billy yelled.
Mal nodded. "Can do," he said, then slinked away.
A moment later, the gunner Billy could see clearly fell. Another man moved to take his position. He too collapsed.
"TAKE OUT THE GUNNERS," Billy shouted, feeling stupid as the words escaped his lips.
** ** **
The machine guns fired in controlled bursts. Walker had been warned about the barrels getting too hot and needing to be replaced, so he kept the fire under control. It sucked, but he wanted the guns up and killing these vermin.
He pressed the trigger again, a stream of round flying out from the barrel.
Over the din of battle, a deep voice called out, "TAKE OUT THE GUNNERS."
Walker smiled. He liked it when they put up a fight.
"You," he barked at one of the men. "Take over."
He slipped out from behind the machinegun and crept low. He wanted to see who was giving the orders. He figured it wasn't Calvin, since the voice was unfamiliar. No, this was someone else entirely.
Out the corner of his eye, Walker saw some of the gunners go down, soon replaced.
He smiled. For years, he'd been Declan's bitch, but now he had a fighting force. He could go back, take Declan out, and take over the New Lords and finally get them back on track. They'd wrecked a lot of shit right after the nukes, had a lot of fun, picked up some new blood, then suddenly he stopped. The man who'd been one of the most dangerous people in the Kentucky prison system suddenly started trying to put shit together.
At first, he'd understood well enough. They'd caused enough havoc, and while it was fun, there was only so much of that they could keep doing. They needed food, shelter, all that stuff and Declan had the perfect tool to get it. Not everyone was a hard ass like Walker, but they were in a world where that's what they needed. Some volunteered to be vassals and provide food. Others had skills that could be used. It worked out well enough.
Then this shit with Calvin. Declan just had to give the word, and Jason Calvin would have been nothing more than a name on a tombstone. He'd broken with Walker because of that. Well, Walker would get the last laugh, wouldn't he.
** ** **
Mal inched along, using the terrain to cover his movements as he belly-crawled along the Tennessee mountain dirt. The quick pulse of gunfire told him the target was close by.
Slowly, he raised the AK-74 to his shoulder. The machinegun sat in the open, the gunner sending pulses of rounds out, each one a threat to the people of New Eden. He placed the sight post on the gunner and focused on his breathing. In and out. Inhale and exhale. He placed his index finger on the trigger and again breathed. In, then out. As he air exited his lungs, he squeezed the trigger. The 5.45mm round flew from his barrel, covering the distance in a mere fraction of a second.
Another man worked his way up, taking a seat behind the M2.
Mal said a quick prayer and took aim. Again, he stroked the trigger. Again, a man fell dead. Another worked his way to the weapon. This one kept low to the ground. The terrain that helped hide Mal now worked against him.
The new gunner made it to the weapon and swung the barrel in Mal's direction.
"Oops," he muttered then ducked low.
The ground near him exploded upward as the gun annihilated the dirt.
No smooth pulses came, but instead an intense and steady barrage of hell coming toward him. At least, he thought it was hell at the time.
A massive explosion tore through the clamor of combat. Mal pulled his head in even closer as he was pelted with debris. For several moments, he just lay there, unsure of whether it was safe to even look up.
"On your feet," a voice ordered from where the gun was; or where it had been up until a few minutes ago, at least.
CHAPTER 15
Slowly, Mal raised his head. The M2 was scrap, what little of it there was. In its place stood Rick Calvin. "You going to lay there all day? There's ass needing to be kicked, you know?"
Mal nodded. "Yeah, I reckon there is," he said with a smile. "How did you find me?"
He shrugged. "My bad luck," he quipped. "Seriously
, I wasn't even looking for you right then."
"The Lord has his ways," Mal fired back with a smile.
Rick bent over and picked up a long metal tube. The tube, if it could really be called that, had a few odd angles, but most importantly it had a pistol grip near one end.
"New toy?" Mal asked.
Rick smiled. "Yeah, fun for the whole family."
"Care to enlighten me?"
"Oh, much enlightenment will be had. Come on," Rick said, sliding something down into the tube. The thing had a conical front, coming to a flat section, then it tapered down until it reached a section that resembled a thin tube, which was placed into the weapon.
Rick trotted on, his AR bouncing against his back where it was slung, with Mal jogging to catch up.
The two men angled behind the enemy lines for about seventy-five yards then headed parallel to the enemy. As they ran, another explosion rocked the mountainside. "How many of those do you guys have?" Mal asked.
Rick smiled. "Not many, but enough to raise a little hell."
They stopped after about twenty more yards, then started working toward the lines.
Ahead, they saw another M2 laying down fire. Rick put the strange tube on his shoulder and fired it. What Mal could only describe as a rocket left the tube with a WOOSH. It streaked its way toward the machinegun. The gun erupted in flame and chaos as the rocket detonated, sending debris in all directions.
** ** **
The first explosion was a curiosity to Billy. The second, a cause for concern. The third, however, happened near enough that he saw what exploded. It made his heart almost leap for joy as the gun went up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. He didn't have a clue what caused it, but he saw the opening he needed and he took it.
"Alright, boys! Let's give 'em hell!" he yelled as he stood and swung up from the small valley that had been his only refuge. He put the weapon up to his shoulder and began firing. His aim might have been good. Then again, it might not. He was running and firing, praying the rest of his troops were following.
He fired again and again, pumping rounds through as fast as he could squeeze the trigger. BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each step took him closer to the enemy, now blowing off any use of cover to try and deal with the human swarm coming at them. His range decreased until the enemy were close enough to make marksmanship skills unnecessary. Round after round he fired, most punching their way into the terrified enemy.
His AK ran out of ammo. He still had a magazine or two stashed here and there, but there was no time. Instead he took the weapon by the fore end and swung it like a baseball bat, slamming it into one of the soldiers.
All around him, the melee spread as New Edeners engaged the enemy.
** ** **
Jason ran toward the lines. He saw what was happening and wanted, no, needed to get in there. He dropped his AR and closed, drawing his pistol and knife and ran into the fray.
Years of practice kicked in as he fired. One handed shooting wasn't the best way to work, but he also knew that reloading wasn't about to happen. He needed the knife out and ready to go to work.
One of the insurgents ran toward him, screaming a battle cry meant to rattle men's core, but instead forced Jason to smile slightly. This was his element.
Jason brought the pistol up and squeezed the trigger.
The man dropped immediately.
Scanning for another target, he saw a man standing over a New Edeners. The enemy had he weapon up, ready to smash it into Jason's ally. Another quick shot slammed into the man's torso. He turned and looked at Jason, his eyes wide and jaw slack.
Jason fired again, finally dropping the man.
Another insurgent ran toward him. He was a bit away but coming in fast. Jason snapped off a quick shot, missing. He pulled the trigger again, and again he missed. He forced himself to settle down and pulled the trigger a third time.
The bullet ripped into the man. He spun as he fell to the ground.
More and more enemy seemed to come, as if drawn to the sound of gunfire. Each one demanding his attention. Each one calling for one of his precious rounds.
The realization that the slide had locked back was like a kick in the gut, especially with the mass of men coming toward him.
He released the slide lock with his thumb and holstered the weapon. The knife, he threw into his right hand and got ready.
The seconds stretched on, each on taking a good half hour. His brain took in the sights, drinking in the details. Most had rifles, but none seemed to be shooting. Alright, Jason thought. Let's dance.
Moments before the wave hit, gunfire echoed from nearby. Instinctively, Jason raised his free hand to check for holes at the same moment a number of his attackers dropped. Not all of them, but almost enough.
Jason screamed and ran to meet his fate. This is how he figured he'd die pretty much from the moment he first pulled a trigger, and he had no regrets really. Okay, maybe one or two. A certain tavern owner, for example. Still, he figured she'd understand.
Moments before he made contact, a tomahawk slammed into the head of a man to Jason's left. He didn't have time to look though. The man directly in front of him attempted to butt stroke Jason, but telegraphed it badly.
Jason ducked beneath the blow and took his knife, ramming it into the man's rib cage.
He quickly identified his next victim, slashing him in the stomach with the knife. The other man pressed his hand against the wound and stared for a moment, then stepped toward Jason. He never made it.
As the man stepped forward, a body flew through the air, slamming into the would-be attacker.
Jason chanced a quick look. To his left was the massive form of his son, deftly manhandling the enemy.
Another quick look to his right. Mal swung his tomahawk, taking a man's legs out from under him, then swinging it back, slicing another man across the chest. The tracker the returned to the downed man and slammed the 'hawk into his chest.
"Well, Dad," Rick said, his feral grin widening, "don't let it be said you don't know how to throw a party."
Jason smiled. "Joke later. We've got work to do."
** ** **
Sully looked around at the chaos. He'd fired shots, but he had no idea as to whether or not he'd hit anything. Now, it was getting close enough he would, and that bothered him.
The SKS in his hands was empty, so he dropped it behind a tree and drew his Glock. Okay, you know what to do. Billy showed you, he thought as he wrapped his second hand around the polymer grip.
He pushed through the mayhem. A Blackshirt stood over a New Edener, his rifle held up in both hands. He knew it would slam down in what would most likely be a fatal blow. He focused on his front sight and breathed slowly like Billy showed him, desperate to keep his hands from shaking.
The sight post settled enough to know he'd hit the man, and he carefully pulled the trigger.
A supersonic slug ripped through the air, crossing the short distance in an instant. Sully watched as the man dropped the rifle, still held over his head. It fell behind him just an instant before the insurgent dropped to his knees, then fell to the side.
Sully looked and saw another man, a black leather vest marking him as an enemy. Sully swung the Glock and snapped off another shot as soon as the sight was where he wanted it, dropping another one.
He chuckled once, then thought, I guess I am a combat accountant now.
** ** **
The chaos of a full out battle was something Megan Hernandez had never really experienced. She'd been around it before, but not like this. Everything happened fast, but her mind seemed to slow it all down, as if some superhuman part of her was taking over.
To make matters worse, the scene back at the cave was getting to her. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't push it down. The anxiety and anger kept bubbling up.
One of the rebels turned toward her. She leveled her Siaga shotgun and pulled the trigger, sending a full load of buckshot into his chest.
&nbs
p; She shifted, looking for another target. In front of her was a rebel who still didn't know she was there. Part of her wanted the man to turn, to face her before she pulled the trigger. She pulled anyways, realizing that he wouldn't have done any differently.
Her eyes scanned for more targets. With each pull of the trigger, her emotions subsided a bit, as if she was finally getting revenge for the horrors visited on her.
A rebel turned to run, almost slamming into her. There couldn't have been much time for the man to register her evil smile before the buckshot pelted him from chest to chin.
** ** **
Walker watched as his victory fell out from around him. He'd not bothered to keep count of his men. He never realized how accurate the New Eden fire was. Most of his command was gone. Around him, men littered the ground. Michael, his old friend sprawled over brush, his blood dripping down the yellow leaves.
A quick look showed that none of his people—his real people, at least—were nearby. Fuck this, he though as he turned to run. The explosions told him that the RPG stash had been taken, meaning the cave was compromised. Going back there was pointless.
Instead, he ran north, desperate to get away from the massacre happening behind him.
The sounds of battle lessened with each frantic step. His eyes focused on behind him, only steeling quick glances forward, he never saw the arm that swung out and clotheslined him.
He slammed down on the hard ground, stunned.
Above him stood an all too familiar face, his black hair swept up to a point.
"Walker, Walker, Walker. Running? Really?"
Walker gasped for air. He finally gasped out, "Declan, man, I'm sorry, alright?"
Declan smiled. "I'm sure you are." He squatted down and said, "I'm sure you're really sorry. Funny how that works, isn't it? You even had a chance to take Calvin out, but couldn't get it done. Do you know why?"
Bad Moon on the Rise (Soldiers of New Eden Book 3) Page 16
