I hear the sound of vehicles approaching in the distance. I radio Greg and Echo team standing guard telling them to be alert. I let the soldiers around the ramp know what I hear and get some funny looks, but there is a scramble to dispose of wrappers and water bottles. In short order, Blue Team has taken cover behind the concrete barriers near the edge of the ramp. I wait with Red Team near the aircraft ready for any eventuality.
Cars enter the ramp between two hangars, hesitate a moment, and then begin driving in our direction. The guns on the Humvees track their progress. Eight cars packed with people approach and stop a short distance away. Miguel steps out of the car in front and I tell everyone to relax. The group from our little encounter yesterday has arrived.
More people step onto the ramp as Blue Team leaves their cover and meanders back to us. I hear Gonzalez gasp beside me. She gives me a quick look asking if it’s okay if she goes. I nod and she takes off in a run. She races past a small knot of people that have gathered around Miguel and embraces an older woman. Okay, older being relative as she appears to be only a little older than me. I notice Gonzalez’ younger sister, Isabella, join in the embrace. Gonzalez has apparently found her mother.
Miguel and several others gather around. He quickly tells his story about how he and a couple of his friends gathered everyone in the neighborhood when they figured out what was happening. They cleared the area as best as they could and fortified the high school gym. They had run-ins with some roving gangs but they managed to hold their own. He mentioned collecting weapons and ammo that were lying around on the base and that is what has given them the edge so far. He also added that they were beginning to run low on supplies. I inform him that we are heading down to Lubbock for the day to search for one of our soldier’s family.
“You’re taking your entire group?” He asks.
“Yeah, running into you yesterday made me want to have everyone available just in case. I was thinking of leaving the three we met in Albuquerque but haven’t decided on that yet,” I answer.
“And you trust us?” He asks tilting his head to the side confused.
“It’s not like you’re going to steal our plane,” I reply with a chuckle.
“What about your supplies?”
“Look, we have more back home. If you decide you don’t want to come with us, take what you need, just leave us some food, water, and ammo,” I answer.
Miguel pauses and then says, “No, I think we’ll be staying with you guys. Like I said, there’s nothing here for us anymore. I’ll leave some people here to keep your shit safe until you get back.”
“Sounds good. And thanks. We’ll be back before dark.”
“I hope so or your shit’s going to be open for anyone to steal. We’re not hanging around once the sun hits the horizon,” he says.
“See you this afternoon,” I say.
Gonzalez gives her mom and sister another hug before heading back. Miguel and his group pile back into their vehicles and, with a great flourish, drive away with the sounds of their vehicles fading into the distance. He leaves one car and several people behind. Silence spreads across the ramp and we are left alone with the beginning of the day. The morning is chilly but I can feel the heat already beginning to rise from the concrete ramp. The sky overhead is clear of clouds and promises a sunny day free from storms. The moist, humid air mass that gave rise to the majesty of the thunderstorms has moved on.
Packing our gear together, the sound of the starting Humvees resonates off the metal sides of the hangars a short distance away and breaks across the still morning air. I leave with Red Team and search the base for another Humvee. It takes a while but eventually we come across a couple parked in a maintenance area. The second one we try starts and we drive it back to the ramp. Greg and Echo Team pile into the third Humvee and we are shortly ready to head out into the day. Leaving Thomas, Laurel, and Jeremy behind with Miguel’s people, we exit the base and proceed along the same road as yesterday driving in the same formation with the exception that Greg is in my lane offset from Horace. McCafferty is driving as we pass the familiar brown fields. There are patches of green from the rains of the days prior; already springing up as only it can in the desert.
We pass through the ghost-like town of Clovis. The downpours have cleaned the streets of sand to a degree but the runoff has left still wet sand piled against the curbs and by the tires of the few parked cars. The bottoms of the doorway entrances are still filled with dirt and debris where they are inset from the street. It gives that lonely and abandoned feel of most towns that we’ve seen, either from the air or ground. I keep an eye out for any of the roving gangs Miguel mentioned but we pass through without incident.
A few miles out of town, the highway turns to the southeast. The scenery doesn’t change much as we begin our journey to Lubbock. McCafferty, in the driver’s seat, is displaying much of the same tightness around her eyes that Gonzalez did the day before. I’m guessing she is worried about what Gonzalez found with regards to her dad and thinking the same thing could be awaiting her. The scale of sorrow was tipped, however, when Gonzalez found out her sister and mother were still alive. To be honest, it was fortunate that she found her sister, or vice-versa really, when she did as things were about to get ugly. Timing is such a wonderful thing. Luck doesn’t hurt either. I just hope I have enough of both in my shrinking bag of tricks.
Henderson, manning the top gun and keeping an eye out far ahead of us with a set of binoculars, pulls our attention to the fact that we’re approaching a city or town of some sort. I notify the other teams and we slow to a stop. Taking a few moments to glass the area, Henderson reports no movement and we press forward slowly. The highway passes along the outskirts of the town and is lined with warehouse and industrial style buildings. It’s definitely not the roadside burger, gas station, or strip mall kind of place. We pass through slowly, alert for any movement or indication that there are survivors. Nothing moves except an occasional dust devil swirling in dry, dusty lots.
Our passage through the abandoned and empty town is quick and we are once again presented with the same scenery; brown and mostly barren fields with patches of green. A few small, stunted trees crop up here and there but for the most part, you can almost see the curvature of the earth. Some of the fields we pass have cattle grazing aimlessly while others have only dark lumps lying in them. It seems the surviving cattle are dependent on whether the water source and irrigation was natural or not. The natural irrigation is scarce as this appears to be mostly an agricultural area, or at least it used to be. The scenery passes by with only the hum of our tires on the pavement, the air passing over the open turret on top, and the vibration of the diesel to keep us company. The vibrations and sounds are lulling.
“Sir, we are approaching another town. It appears there are vehicles creating a roadblock on the highway before it,” Henderson calls out on the radio.
“Any movement?” I ask as McCafferty begins to slow down.
“I can’t tell for sure with the heat waves. I thought I saw something but I can’t be sure, sir,” he answers.
I radio the others and we come to a stop on the highway. I step outside with another set of binoculars and climb onto the roof. Standing on the roof looking over the expanse through the binoculars, I’m reminded of a picture I once saw. It was of a German commander staring at Moscow from just a few miles outside of it. He was staring at the city with smoke rising all around. That was as close as he ever came, or anyone from the German side for that matter. It has no bearing on our situation but the image comes to my mind anyway.
Vehicles, parked perpendicular to the road, are definitely blocking the highway but Henderson is right, the heat waves make it difficult to see if there is in fact anyone manning the road block. I focus off to the sides around the small town strung along the freeway. More dry fields separated by slightly raised dirt roads. There doesn’t appear to be any roads around the town nor do I see any movement on either side. I’m hesitant to drive c
loser as there is always a reason for a roadblock. It could have been set up much earlier and then the town fell into silence like so many others.
I lower my binoculars just as a spark strikes up from the road in front and to the left of us accompanied by the familiar sound of a ricochet. The report of a gunshot reaches us a second later. Yep, someone just took a shot at us. I guess that answers the question of whether the roadblock is being manned, I think hopping off the roof. Another spark and ricochet, closer this time, followed by the sound of the shot.
“Fuck that! We don’t have time for this,” I say hopping into the passenger seat and grabbing the radio.
“Horace, Greg, off the road to the right. We’re going around this fucking town. Keep your spacing but be able to support one another,” I say while directing McCafferty off the road.
She guns it and we head down a gravelly incline into a slight gully. Coming up the other side, we roll over a barb wire fence and enter a dry, dusty field. McCafferty continues accelerating. The other vehicles enter the field behind. Although the field is fairly flat, our speed makes the ride a little bumpy. We begin leaving a large dust plume behind us. With little wind, the dust hangs in the air partially obscuring Echo Team’s vehicle. Horace remains in view behind and offset to the right – away from the town.
“Greg, pull to the outside of Horace,” I call.
“Roger that,” he replies and I see his Humvee swing out.
This way everyone will have a clear line of sight for driving and the dust plume created by our vehicle should obscure both Horace’s and Greg’s. The sun glints in flashes off both windshields as they plow through the field. It’s not a mad race across the dusty ground but we don’t have much time if we’re to get down to Lubbock, look for McCafferty’s family, and get back before dark. This is only one obstacle and its eating at our time available. I’m glad we left early. My plan is to circumvent the town and be on our way as it’s apparent they aren’t in the mood for dinner guests.
“Sir, looks like we have company heading our way,” Henderson says over the radio.
I look past McCafferty to see plumes of dust rising in lines near where the roadblock was. I can’t see what the vehicles are but from the plumes, it appears they are trying to cut us off.
“What do you have, Henderson?” I ask.
“I see several… pickup trucks and… what looks like… some ATV’s,” he answers between bounces. So much for trying to circumvent the town and being on our way, I think grabbing for the microphone.
“Horace, Greg, we have company coming from the roadblock. Several pickup trucks and ATV’s cutting across the fields toward us,” I say knowing they may not be able to see what’s coming through the shroud of dust we are kicking up. I see the first of the raised roads coming up quickly.
“Henderson, hang on. Bit of a bump coming up,” I say.
McCafferty slows only slightly. Our front tires hit the small rise and we bounce over the narrow dirt strip landing hard on the incline on the other side. I bounce once leaving my seat and tilt my head to the side to avoid the quickly approaching ceiling. Just as quickly, I slam down into my seat and we are off once again. I look in the rear view to see Horace’s Humvee rise over the berm and slam down on the far side. The headlights and front of Greg’s vehicle shows and he goes through the same leap.
“How are our guests doing?” I ask Henderson.
“Still coming, sir,” he answers.
I look to see the dust plumes angling our direction still trying to cut us off. I can’t believe pickup trucks and quads are coming after three Humvees but maybe they don’t know what they’re chasing or didn’t see all three of us. Whatever the case, I can’t believe they would pursue. It doesn’t look like we are going to outrun them though. We can either engage them in the open or try to find a defensible location. They may outnumber us but I’m more than willing to bet we outgun them. Their closure rate is eliminating many of our options. I was kind of hoping they would give up if we ran far enough but that’s obviously not going to happen. Plus, I’m not overly happy with them taking some shots at us on the road. As a matter of fact, I’m rather pissed. The one thing I am worried about is someone coming from the other direction. If there’s a roadblock on one end of the town, I’m thinking there’s another on the other end.
The sound of something hard hitting the window next to McCafferty catches all of our attention. It’s a loud “tink” that all of us immediately recognize. Our heads snap to the sound and see a starred chip taken out of the glass. A lucky shot considering the speed and bouncing of both groups of vehicles but a shot nonetheless.
“Weapons free,” I tell Henderson and the other teams.
It’s time for us to do something about this and take care of these fucking assholes. I mean, seriously! What the fuck do they think they’re doing or hope to accomplish? Night runners are the issue and here they are shooting at other people. Fucking pricks. I feel the anger, along with a little fear, build up inside.
“Horace, Greg. I want you to start falling back. They are about 200 meters at our 8 o’clock and angling to cut us off. Can you see them?” I ask.
“No, sir. I can’t see anything in that direction through the dust cloud,” Horace replies. Greg answers the same.
“Good. That means they can’t see you either. Fall back. We’re going to cut to the right and lead them on. Horace, I want you to turn and charge through the dust and engage them on my command. Greg, fall further back and see if you can fall in behind them. We’ll turn to the left and across their front. We’ll have them on three sides and let them have it,” I say.
“Copy that, sir,” Horace responds.
“We’ll give ‘em hell, Jack,” Greg responds. I’m thinking the M-240’s on top will give them something to think about. I see Horace and Greg fall further behind as they slow up.
“Are you ready on top?” I ask Henderson.
“Fucking right, sir,” he answers.
“Give them a short blast and then be ready for a turn to the right,” I say.
I hear the M240 begin to bark and send rounds towards our unwelcome guests. Tracers reach out towards the vehicles and merge with them. McCafferty makes a slight turn to the right negating our pursuer’s angle. The group turns with us. I alert Henderson of another upcoming “bump” and we hit hard on the other side of yet another raised path. Henderson alerts us to the twinkle of return fire coming from the trucks. Apparently they didn’t like the tracers we sent in their direction.
Horace and Greg have fallen back considerably to the point where I really only know where they are by the clouds of dust they are kicking up. I measure the distance, through McCafferty’s mirror, of those that do not terribly like us near their nest and Horace through my own mirror. They look to be about even. That means Greg will be behind them. I catch a sight of winking lights from the trucks but there is no way they can come close to being accurate while on the go across these fields. That’s where tracers and heavy calibers come in handy. There is also the fact that our guns are mounted and we have better training. I’m still stunned they are chasing us. The why they shouldn’t have will become quite apparent to them in about a minute.
“Get ready to turn,” I tell McCafferty. “Cut to the left and we’ll come across their front.” She nods while gripping the wheel tightly to hold the Humvee along its path. I give a heads up to Henderson.
“I’m ready, sir,” Henderson responds.
“Horace, Greg, start your turns. Time to teach these bastards some manners,” I call out.
Horace’s Humvee comes charging out of the dust cloud directly at the flank of the group of vehicles pressing in on us. She immediately turns to parallel the hard-charging trucks and quads, staying directly beside them. In the rear, Greg’s Humvee races out of the same plume just after Horace’s and angles toward the rear. I don’t see any indication that they’ve been noticed as we seem to have their undivided attention. That will soon change.
Tracers a
rc from Horace’s Humvee reaching out toward the unsuspecting group. They aren’t a stream due to the fact that we’re still racing across a field but it looks accurate enough. The red streaks arc upward slightly and intersect one of the quads charging at us. Yeah, a quad versus a Humvee. I still don’t get it. I’d hate to be the one charging after an armed Humvee on an ATV. The driver of said quad finds out about that unfortunate inequality.
The meeting of the M-240 rounds and the quad isn’t pretty. The rider is thrown from his seat causing the ATV to turn sharply and begin rolling violently in a cloud of dust and debris. Greg’s tracers enter the fray and more dust clouds are created as his rounds find their mark. Still, the vehicles press onward. Looking at the action as best I can with the bumps and small windows, I’m guessing the majority of them still don’t know they’re under attack. I watch as another ATV goes end over end and throws the rider high into the air.
I see the trucks slew slightly off to the side, some toward Horace and some away. I guess she’s been noticed now. If they think Horace was a startle, won’t Greg be a big fucking surprise? I think watching their once pristine line become a tangled mass.
“Okay, it’s time to do our thing, McCafferty. Turn left but keep angled so we don’t catch any stray rounds from Greg,” I say warning Henderson. I am pressed to the side as the Humvee slews to the left.
Our top gun barks as Henderson adds his rounds to the fray. The scene is a lot of dust flying and bursts of tracers streaming towards vehicles which are now in disarray. I watch as the red streaks reaching out from our vehicle strike solidly on the front of one of the trucks. The truck digs down on its front wheels, turns slightly to the side, and flips tossing people in the bed into the air; their arms and legs flailing as they try to gain some sort of equilibrium and failing miserably. They land hard and bounce across the field of dirt.
A New World: Awakening Page 11
