Fire From the Sky: Brotherhood of Fire

by N. C. Reed

“Well, we aren't leaving!” another declared, to which Maseo just laughed.

  “Where was all that defiance with the men who were taking you back to town?” he asked.

  “They threatened to kill us!”

  “And we killed them,” Maseo's humor evaporated. “Don't think you can just make demands here, lady. The fact that we helped you, twice, does not make us responsible for you.”

  “Aren't you the government?” the large woman demanded. “You're supposed to take care of us!”

  “The man who had captured you was 'the government', as you put it,” Maseo told her. “We are not. And no, we aren't supposed to take care of you. We have our own people to worry about and care for.”

  “Well…I still say I'm not leaving!” the woman crossed her arms in defiance.

  “We 'll see.”

  -

  “No, you're all going back to the church,” Clay shook his head. “If you want out somewhere between here and there that's fine, we can oblige. If you want a ride to somewhere nearby, we can manage that as well, probably, but we don't have a great deal of fuel so it has to be close by.”

  “Why can't we stay here?” one young woman was crying.

  “We don't have the room or the resources to take care of you,” Clay explained to her. “I am sorry, really I am, but we can't take care of so many.”

  “There aren't that many of you!”

  “Lady, we all have families hiding out of sight,” Clay sighed. “Some of them are out and about now that the shooting is over, but we aren't all there is here. We're doing the best we can just to get by. We can't take care of others. Like I said, I am truly sorry for your misfortune, but we can't help you.”

  “It's not fair!” the young woman who was crying yelled. “We deserve to stay here!”

  “Why?” Clay asked, catching her off guard.

  “What?” the younger woman looked flustered.

  “You say you 'deserve' to stay here, and I'm asking how you figure that. What have you done to deserve to stay in our home? What makes you so deserving of being here, taking food from my family's mouth?” Clay demanded.

  “We just do!” she finally shouted. “It's not fair! It's sexist to deny us!”

  “Oh brother,” Jose Juarez face palmed. “One of those.”

  “I'm tired of having this conversation,” Clay declared. “None of you deserve to stay here, and you aren't going to. Period. Now load into that van,” he pointed to the van Peyton's men had used to get to the farm. “We're going to give that van to the church so you can probably get a ride from there I guess. But that's up to you and them.”

  “We're not going,” the older woman among them shook her head. “We're not going back to those conditions.”

  “You can go anywhere you like, ma'am,” Clay nodded. “But you aren't staying here. This is our home. That car,” he pointed to Peyton's unmarked car, “has a full tank of gas in it. Help yourself to it and go where and as you please. Same goes for the rest of you. You can always take the other car. That truck is disabled and the van is going to the church, but the cars you can have. Including the cop car, assuming one of you doesn't mind being mistaken for a cop. We were going to give them to the church, too, but you can have them if you want to strike out on your own.”

  “We 'll tell everyone where you are,” the one woman who hadn't spoken until now threatened. “If you make us leave, we 'll tell everyone where you are and come back with others and strip this place clean.” Her eyes were dark and calculating and her face one that spoke of an innate maliciousness. Others might not see it, but Clay and his men had seen that look on countless faces over the years. He knew it for what it was.

  Clay's face became a mask. He keyed his radio while keeping eye contact with the woman.

  “Chip, have you filled in that hole yet?” he asked Gordy.

  “Just starting, Bossman,” came the reply.

  “Hold up on it a minute,” Clay ordered. “I 'll get right back to you.”

  “Roger that.”

  Without pausing, Clay drew his pistol and shot the woman between the eyes, killing her instantly. The others were too stunned to even scream, things had happened so fast. The suppressed weapon was much quieter than it might normally have been but still loud enough to make them cringe and flinch. They all looked at Clay as if they expected him to sprout horns.

  “Anyone else feel that way?”

  -

  “Leave the van and just go,” Clay told Nolan. “Don't answer any questions. Drive up only to the curb, get out and get into the Cougar and come straight back here.”

  “Got it,” Nolan nodded. “Are you sure about letting them go? They probably will talk.”

  “Maybe not,” Clay shrugged. “I think shooting that one might have made them pause anyway. And regardless, the people at the church know where the food came from and know where Peyton was going. It's not like it's a great secret that my family owns a ranch, either,” he sighed. “This has gotten complicated awfully fast. It wasn't supposed to be like this.”

  “No plan survives contact with the enemy,” Nolan grinned sourly. “It's still better than it might have been. We 'll be back in a bit.”

  “Do not take any chances,” he ordered. “None. Ditch the van and the women if need be, but do not place yourselves in harm's way. Copy?”

  “Roger that,” he nodded. “Ready to go?” he turned to Tully. She nodded and crawled into the passenger seat of the small van. It was very quiet. Gordy was driving one of the cars and Tandi another. Caudell and Juarez were in the Cougar.

  “Taking a chance, leaving things so bare,” Juarez noted.

  “I know, but I want this done and over with. Jody and I will be enough until you guys can get back. Remember what I said; take no chances.”

  “We 'll be good,” Juarez promised. “Let’s roll!” he made a spinning motion with his hand as he climbed aboard the MRAP. The small convoy was on its way seconds later.

  “Good grief,” Clay muttered to himself. “What next?” He turned and found out what was next.

  “You murdered that woman!” Alicia screeched. “Shot her in cold blood!”

  “No, it was more hot blooded,” Clay told her, his 'mask' returning. He should have expected this.

  “What?” His declaration brought his sister up short.

  “She threatened to bring others back here and strip the place clean,” Clay explained as others gathered together. “Leave us with nothing, assuming they didn't kill us. That's a threat I can't ignore.”

  “You killed her because she threatened you?” Alicia almost goggled. “What could she do to you? You're the soldier! You have the guns!”

  “Did you hear what I said?” Clay asked his sister. “She was going to bring back others. A gang of people who would have attacked us, again, and stripped this place bare. So yes, I killed her. Just like I 'll kill the next one who threatens our existence, and the one after that, too. And I'm tired of having this conversation.” With that he started back down the driveway. He wanted desperately to go home and just pass out on the couch, but until the others returned he had to be out and about. Jody was on watch and not much got past him, but he was in a cupola across the way. Clay was on the ground and every other trained man or woman was gone.

  He hadn't taken ten steps when he ran into the last person he wanted to talk to, including his sister.

  “Uncle Clay,” Abigail said, “I need another rifle. I could have helped if I had my outfit back. Hard to do with a deer rifle,” she grinned weakly.

  “Then you shouldn't have lost the outfit and rifle I gave you,” he told her coldly, never slowing.

  “It wasn't like I could help it,” Abigail protested. “I ran over those spikes and wrecked!”

  “You hadn't been there, you wouldn't have wrecked.” His tone was dead sounding. Emotionless.

  “I had to save my friend!” Abigail argued. “You weren't going to!”

  “That's right, I wasn't,” he nodded as he walked. “To
o risky I told you. Remember that? We couldn't do it without loss? Maybe without killing her by accident? Sound familiar?”

  “Are you going to give me another rifle or not!” Abigail lost her temper and immediately regretted it as her uncle wheeled on her, face suddenly a mask of fury.

  “The last rifle I gave you ended up in the hands of the man who killed my best friend!” he practically snarled, his voice low and edgy. “The very same gun I gave you killed John because you ran off to do something idiotic and had to be rescued like a little girl! Well, you want to behave like a little girl, I can treat you like one. We don't need your damn help. Stick to cooking and watching the children.”

  With that he turned away from her and stalked away, anger radiating off of him like a heat wave.

  “That's not fair!” Abigail called after him.

  “Life ain't fair, Cupcake. Deal with it.”

  “I didn't ask you to come after me!” she screamed, and he turned back for an instant.

  “And I wish I hadn't,” he told her, his mask once more in place as he got a grip on his anger. “I would give almost anything if I had left you there. It was a mistake to come and get you.” With that he was once more walking away.

  Behind him Abigail looked on with a stunned expression on her face. That had honestly been the last thing she was expecting to hear.

  She had fully expected Clay to be glad to provide her with another rifle and set of gear, glad to have her help. Never in a million years had she thought to hear him say something so cold.

  He was trying to punish her, Abigail decided suddenly. Clayton was punishing her for doing what he wouldn't do. Instead of acknowledging the courage it took to go racing into town to rescue her friend, he was punishing her because she had done something he hadn't wanted done. He hadn't wanted Samantha saved because having her on the farm would be a hassle for him and his stripper. To get even with her, he was treating her like a child. But even that wasn't the worst.

  The worst thing was that she was certain her Uncle Clay had meant what he said. He wished he had left her in the hands of those animals rather than risking having Samantha here. Of all the things he could have said to her, that had hurt the most.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  -

  “Don't make me regret trusting you.”

  “I promise you I won't, “Victoria Tully nodded as she opened the action on the M-4 she had just been presented with.

  Upon their return from taking the women to the church, everyone agreed that Tully had done well. It was decided to outfit her and add her to the rotation and work her into defensive preparations. Clay had just finished arming her, and had to fight off a grin at how happy the young woman looked now that she had her kit.

  “Tonight, you can walk the watch with Pancho,” he told her. “He 'll make sure you're up to speed, and after that you can stand watch on the ground. Tommy or Doc are usually in the cupola. Once we ever have time to finish the tower we may not have anyone on the ground all the time, I don't know. After today we 'll have to make sure our security is tight, at least for a while.”

  “I don't think those four will be starting any trouble for us, sir,” Tully told him. Clay studied her closely for a moment.

  “You think I went too far?” he asked her. He didn't have to specify how.

  “I would have done it,” she replied without hesitation, surprising him.

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely,” Tully's voice was firm. “She threatened our existence. This is my home now too, sir. I don't have anywhere else to go. Everything I own burned to the ground in Peabody, and even if I could make it to the armory in Columbia, which I can't, what would I find? We received no orders to assemble, either, so there's no guarantee that anyone would even be there. And not to put too fine a point on it, I'm not sure I want to be there over here, anyway.”

  “Oh?” Clay's eyebrow rose at that.

  “Not a single person here has been anything but kind to me since I got here, sir,” Tully said honestly. “And you know that a woman in a combat unit faces a lot of unique problems. Sir.”

  “I see,” Clay nodded, and he did. She was saying, without saying it, that she felt safer here than with her unit. That actually made Clay feel good, knowing that she felt that way.

  “Well, you're fine here,” Clay smiled slightly. “And you were right, we can use you. We happen to have a SAW or three laying around, so if we're in a serious firefight it's good to know we have someone else who can handle one. We 'll dig one out for you tomorrow and you can keep it stored in quarters.”

  “Really?” Tully's eyebrows rose this time.

  “Really,” Clay nodded. “We don't check weapons in and out here. In fact, I recommend that you carry at all times. Preferably your rifle but absolutely your sidearm. We're in a whole new world here, Specialist Tully. The rules have changed and we don't know just yet what they are. The plan was and still is to hunker down here and lay low. You can see how well that's worked so far,” he snorted.

  “No plan survives contact with the enemy, sir,” Tully returned his wry grin with one of her own. “But I have to admit that you coming to Peabody was very good for me. I am sorry about your teammate, sir,” she added. “I'd rather it been me,” she said honestly.

  “I appreciate that, but Bear wouldn't want it that way,” Clay told her. “He'd want you to have been saved and come here. He would have liked you, Victoria. You're tough and you're direct, qualities that Big Bear respected in anyone. I think the two of you would have gotten along just fine.”

  “I'm honored you think so, sir,” she stood a bit taller. “Well, I better go and find Pancho,” she said after a brief silence.

  “We 'll have to figure a call sign for you, too,” Clay frowned. “Anything you'd prefer? Preferably no more than two syllables and easy to distinguish.”

  “So long as it isn't 'Juggs', I don't have a preference, sir,” Tully replied with the slightest grimace, and Clay realized suddenly what her 'problems' entailed, at least in part.

  “I'm sure we can do better than that,” he promised. “For now, we 'll use Specialist. Now go ahead and get with Jose and let him get you dialed in.”

  “Sir,” Tully snapped to and hurried off.

  “I like her,” Mitchell Nolan said from nowhere. Clay forced himself to turn casually and look at him, nodding.

  “Me too,” he agreed.

  “And I think you're right,” Nolan watched her disappear from sight. “Ole Bear would have liked her too.”

  -

  Clay finally had the chance to go home. He stripped down at the door, not knowing what all was on his clothing, and placed it in a bag. They would wash combat clothing together in a washer used for nothing else. Color safe bleach would help kill any blood borne pathogens that survived UV light. In their new circumstances, they couldn't be too careful. For Clay and the other soldiers, it was nothing new, having lived for years in pre-industrial conditions in more than one place, but for the others it was better safe than sorry.

  “Are you okay?” Lainie asked, coming to the door.

  “Yeah, just stripping out of this gear in case it got bloody,” he nodded. He had already cleaned his webbing with antiseptic and cleaned his rifle while waiting on Tully.

  “You've had a rough day, my poor Cowboy,” she sympathized. “I have splurged and turned on the hot water heater, using the batteries from the solar rig. You can have a hot shower, or we, as in both of us, can have a hot bath,” she smirked.

  “Well I don't see how I can turn that down,” he chuckled. “But I might fall asleep on you,” he warned.

  “I bet I can keep you awake, Cowboy,” the smirk grew as she took his hand and led him toward the bath.

  “I imagine you can at that,” he agreed.

  -

  Clay was on edge for the first two days after the firefight with the 'posse', as everyone had taken to calling it. He fully expected some other form or attack, but when none had materialized by the fourth d
ay he began to relax.

  It was mid-December and everyone was beginning to think about Christmas. Amy Mitchell had also approached Clay about making a trip to her home to see if any of her Lisa's things could be salvaged.

  “You know that it's probably been rifled by now, right?” Clay told her gently.

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “Still, if I could just find some clothing and maybe some pictures, that would be something. Maybe a few of Lisa's things.”

  “Where did you live?” he asked. “As for that, you know there's no reason you have to stay here, right? You can go anytime you want.”

  “Why would I want to?” she asked him honestly. “And where would we go? At least here it's moderately safe, we eat regular and have a good roof over head. I might not be able to give her that anywhere else. And I don't mind working to pay our upkeep,” she added. “It keeps my mind busy,” her face tinged ever so slightly.

  “I understand,” Clay nodded. “So where did you live?”

  “I live just this side of Jordan actually,” she replied. “A little two-bedroom place just off the highway.”

  “All right,” Clay nodded. “I 'll have someone carry you over there but. . .it's a one-time thing, you understand? We can't do this too often. The idea is to bunker here and protect what we have. That said, I can imagine it would make Lisa more comfortable to have her own things around her.”

  “Thank you, Clayton,” Amy almost hugged him but caught herself.

  “You're welcome. Be ready in an hour,” he said, looking at his watch. “Should be ready by then.”

  -

  “Mister Clayton?”

  Clay turned at hearing his name, the voice not one he recognized. It took him a minute to realize that Janice Hardy was standing behind him.

  “Janice?” his surprise showed at seeing her there. “What can I do for you?”

  “Mister Leon would like to see you at his house,” Janice informed him politely.

  “Now did he say it like that?” Clay grinned at her and the girl blushed a bit.

  “No sir, but. . .I'd rather not repeat what he said if you don't mind,” she looked at the ground. “I think my message conveyed his intent if not his vocabulary choices.”