“Right,” Dwayne agreed. “What did you find in the motor pool?”
Luke didn’t have to check his notes to answer. “Six M113 APCs, four Bradleys, and a dozen Humvees with a variety of heavy weapons mounted. There’s also a pair of HEMTT fuel tanker trucks and four thousand-gallon diesel tanks in a sandbagged refueling point. Shouldn’t have been stored in there, by the way.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because while diesel might not explode like gasoline, it will still burn. Plus, there’s other flammable materials stored nearby.”
Dwayne’s eyes grew comically large in the red light.
“You’ve already set them to blow!” he hissed.
“Well, yeah,” Luke replied casually. “Saves me having to go back later.”
“When is it set to explode?”
“Don’t know. Whenever somebody tries to start either one of the HEMTTs, I ran a cable from the ignition to…never mind.”
“Where the heck did you learn how to do that?” Dwayne demanded.
“Saw it in a movie once,” Luke admitted. “Then tried it at home using a car battery and managed to make it work. At least, I made the spark big enough to ignite the kerosene I was using. Same idea here, and I found fifty gallons of gasoline to get the party started.”
“All right then,” Dwayne nodded his head in agreement. “We going to rig up the artillery as well?”
“First, give me a rundown on what you found,” Messner requested, and Dwayne noticed the other soldier had his eyes closed while Dwayne ran through what he’d found.
“You say the barracks is nearby, right?”
“Yeah, about two hundred yards from where the ammo point is set up, but there’s four guards on the doors,” Dwayne replied carefully.
“Doesn’t matter,” Messner replied, his tone cold. “I figure we got a few hours before anybody decides to move those HEMTTs, but we need to work quickly if we are going to get clear by sun up. You ready to go kill some Commies, Private Silcott?”
The idea stopped Dwayne for a moment. He’d joined the Guard after the militia in his neighborhood collapsed. Dwayne’s father had helped organize the semi-rural subdivision, helping set up the large communal gardens in the fields surrounding their small pond, and for months, they managed to keep out the masses of starving invaders set on seizing the water source and the crops.
In a story repeated over and over throughout the country, the temporary refuge couldn’t support the number of defenders needed, and the starving hungry horde never stopped pressing in on the perimeter. Weeks turned into months, and still the attacks continued to whittle down the numbers of their effective fighters.
Dwayne wasn’t there when the end came. In a desperate gamble, his father sent out Dwayne with half dozen of their best remaining night fighters with instructions to launch a spoiling attack on the enemy encampment to their west. The move stank of desperation, but Marshall and his people were approaching the end of their rope. He knew he was likely sending his son out on a suicide mission, Dwayne knew it as well, but he went anyway. After driving off one attack just a few days prior, Marshall Silcott found out the first group of twenty raiders merely represented a scouting force. Their mob of close to two hundred remained a day’s travel west, but still headed their way.
Dwayne and three of his friends somehow survived the attack, using crude catapults to launch Molotov cocktails into the mass of tents and trailers making up the Decatur group’s remaining force. The smell of the burning bodies, an all-too-common scent after the lights went out, stank particularly bad the next morning while Dwayne and his friends surveyed the camp for more aggressors. He’d tried not to look at the bodies of the children, already stunted by starvation and now coiled tight in burned bundles of rags.
Unfortunately for Marshall Silcott and the remaining members of their community, they never saw the massive raider army marching east from McKinney, because the five hundred-man force made a point of killing everyone and everything in their path. By the time Dwayne, Kenzie, Cameron, and Drew made the march back to their Denton suburb, all they’d found were their defenses breached, their families murdered, and the killers moved in to squat in the ruins.
For the next two weeks, the foursome worked to extract some measure of revenge, sniping the camp and ambushing the responding units sent out to hunt them down. Finally, almost out of ammunition and with Kenzie and Drew nursing minor wounds, Dwayne put his foot down and called for a stop. All four had lost family to the McKinney group, but nothing their small force threw at the invaders could drive them from their new encampment.
After two days of travel, the four exhausted travelers reached the fortified town of Gainesville, where a Texas Army National Guard platoon and a pair of functioning Humvees, helped defend the town and surrounding farms. Initially the four were turned away, but the lieutenant in charge of the small unit took a few minutes to interview Dwayne about what transpired in Denton. Lt. Bradwell couldn’t avenge their families, or the slaughter in Denton, but he could accept four new recruits, if they wanted to throw in with the Guard and fight the growing threat in Joplin.
Dwayne recalled the conversation when he thought about Messner’s question. We can’t bring back your family, Lieutenant Bradwell had said, but we can give you food, a little more training, and a purpose. So far, the Guard had done all they’d promised.
“Yeah, and call me Dwayne,” he’d finally replied.
“Then I’m Luke,” Messner said. “Let’s get moving. I want to set the charges, so we can catch those Red Legs before they make formation.”
“Red Legs?”
Luke shrugged. “Old term for artillery men. You got any idea where they are coming from? Unit insignia or anything like that?”
“No, but there was something I saw on one of the tents. An odd-looking circle with a cross, almost like a crosshairs. I’ll show you when we get over there.”
“Cool. I have to say, Dwayne, you move really smooth out there. You have training? You know, from before?”
Dwayne shook his head, again thinking about the past. Luke, sensing the wave of sadness coming from the other man, decided not to push. In Luke’s completely inexpert opinion, Dwayne Silcott needed more training, but he still had good instincts and situational awareness.
“No,” Silcott finally answered. “Just spent time hunting with my dad, and after, you know, I was in the little militia group my neighborhood put together. Some of the older guys, they’d been in the Army, or Marines, and taught us a few things. The rest of it has just been stuff I’ve picked up. Of course, if I’d had these NVGs back then, things might have turned out differently.”
Luke nodded his head slightly in agreement. “Coulda, woulda, shoulda. Always haunts us. We can talk more later, but now we got some shit to blow up and men to kill.”
“Let’s do it,” Dwayne murmured in agreement.
CHAPTER 40
They’d selected a small rise, barely qualifying as a hill, on the east side to observe their handiwork. A little over a mile from the edge of the Committee’s entrenched lines, the windy woodlot didn’t look like an effective observation post, and Dwayne smiled when Luke suggested the location for just that reason. Boy is smart, he thought yet again, and agreed with the proposal.
“How much longer you think?” Dwayne asked Luke. They’d removed their NVGs once again, stowing them in the shock-proof cases provided by Luke, and lay observing the mass of Carytown in the gray shadow of false dawn.
“Give it another…” Luke began, and the brilliant, shattering flash seared the early morning air, followed shortly by a deep bass rumble that sounded like boulders crashing down a mountainside.
“Yep, that’s a lot of boom,” Dwayne confirmed. They’d spent thirty minutes shifting shells around in the magazines to help amplify the force of the explosion, and the scarlet tear in the velvet of the sky validated their hard work.
The soldiers sat for five minutes watching the dancing flames until a distant “w
hoomp” sounded, and instead of another sudden flash and deafening bang in the air, the sky over the distant motor pool began to dance with the flickering tongues of flame as heated fuel began to ignite.
“And that’s number two,” Luke added needlessly. The vehicles would most likely be rendered useless by the fire, since Luke had stashed fuel cans inside each vehicle when he’d rigged them to burn. On top of that, the loss of all that fuel would do nothing but hamper the enemy transportation issues.
After sharing a little celebratory fist bump with the other soldier, Luke slid back down behind the trunk of one of the thick oaks guarding their rear and when Dwayne joined him, Luke gestured for his comrade to sit. They were now hidden in a small pocket of old brambles ringing the trees, but Luke could see two ways out through the thick brush.
“I think our best bet is to wait and go back this evening. Circle around like we did before and approach our lines from the back side. If you want to grab some sleep, I’ll take first watch. I think I got four hours in me,” Luke volunteered.
“Sounds good,” Dwayne replied and started unpacking the roll of gear on his backpack. They’d ditched their detachable sleeping rolls in the tunnel for the first part of the scouting and Dwayne remained grateful they’d managed to retrieve them before the timer had run out.
As he settled down, Dwayne looked over at Luke and noticed the young soldier seemed to be deep in thought.
“What’s bugging you, kid?”
“Why does everybody feel the need to call me ‘kid’? I’m seventeen, dammit,” Luke groused.
Dwayne laughed softly, pleased to see the other man show a little emotion over something that didn’t involve explosives or slaughter.
“You really hate them, don’t you? These Committee fucks, I mean,” Dwayne said, not taking his eyes from the woods as he spoke.
“Yeah, I really do,” Luke agreed. “What? Am I showing it too much? Too bloodthirsty?”
“No,” Dwyane said with a sigh. “I heard they killed a big chunk of your family. I get it. After we lost our community in Denton, we kept coming back, sniping at the bastards. They were all white, you know? I was just so furious.” Dwayne stopped, choking back a swallow. “I hated them so much. They killed all the non-whites they captured out of hand, you know? Just shot them down like dogs.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen some of that,” Luke replied carefully. “Done by just about everybody who could muster up a majority. Whites, blacks, Hispanics. Anybody who isn’t us is them, and they don’t deserve to live. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
After Dwayne gave a quick synopsis of his group’s demise at the hands of the McKinney survivor group, Luke exhaled and shook his head.
“What made you guys stop?”
“Ran out of ammo, and we had two wounded. Cameron heard of a safe zone of sorts over in Gainesville, so we rigged up a couple of carts to carry Kenzie and Drew. They had a Guard unit there, and their CO offered to have his medic treat my friends and feed us, if we agreed to join up with them.”
“That was a stroke of luck there,” Luke pointed out. “Most Guard units can’t feed what they have.”
“Right place, right time. They needed warm bodies to ship off to the Front, and here we are.”
“You regret it?”
“Naw,” Dwayne responded. “I’m pretty sure my two friends would be dead, if we hadn’t gotten that offer.”
“Still hate white people?” Luke finally asked, wondering how his squadmate might respond.
“Dude, you don’t pussyfoot around, do you?” Dwayne paused before answering. “No, I guess not. Fuck, Drew and Kenzie are whiter than you are, kid. Just…it’s hard to let it go.”
“Screw letting it go,” Luke growled. “We win this war, I’ll go back and load the magazines for you. I don’t care about your race, creed, or religion. You mess with my family and I will end you and everybody you care about. That’s the reason I’m here. If you hang with me, then I’ll help you get your vengeance.”
“Like I said, you are one hate-filled individual. You know that ain’t good for you, right?”
“Sorry, that’s about all I got left.” Luke paused, debating how much he should share. Fuck it, he decided. Dwayne might understand, if anyone could, “Reason I came up here. I want, need, to kill these monsters. I can’t sleep, I can’t relax. And this isn’t just about me going on another killing spree. We’ve gotten some results already. I’ll bet we took out sixty, maybe eighty soldiers when those boobytraps went off, and the lost equipment should hurt them even more.”
“Another killing spree? Just how many people have you already killed, Luke?”
Luke shrugged, then realized Dwyane couldn’t see the motion. “I dunno. Got to be in the hundreds, though. Let’s keep that just between us chickens. I never really sat down and counted, and I’m not sure that’s going to look good on my permanent record, if I try to get into a good school.”
As if to punctuate his words, a massive explosion made the trees sway with a gust of scorching wind, making Luke duck his head against the onslaught.
“What do you think that was?” he asked Dwayne.
“No idea, but it sounded expensive,” came the reply from the other man. Luke could hear the sound of a chuckle in the older soldier’s voice.
“So, you got a plan, or are you just planning on going with the flow here?” Dwayne queried.
Luke was silent for a full minute before he spoke.
“I just got here,” Luke said. “I need more time to formulate anything specific, but I’ve got some ideas. Tell me, are your buddies as good as you are, when it comes to roaming around in the dark?”
“I think so. Honestly, Cameron might be a bit sneakier, but he’s a skinny little runt.”
“Are they still assigned to the Front? Somewhere close by, at least?”
“Yeah. Cameron and Drew are in Echo Company, but I forget their platoon. Kenzie got assigned to the Brigade quack shack.”
“The what?”
“Sorry. College slang. He’s assigned to the hospital.”
“He was a doctor?”
“No, but he was a registered nurse in the ER back home, so he had some experience handling GSWs before the pulse.”
“GSW…Oh, gunshot wounds,” Luke murmured. “Yeah, that might come in handy, too.”
“You’re already plotting something else,” Dwayne complained in mock frustration, “and those flames haven’t even gone out yet.”
‘Well…” Luke teased, “like I said, I have some ideas. First thing, though, in your expert military opinion, did our operation last night deliver a blow to our enemies out of proportion to our numbers?”
“If you are asking did two guys just blow up about a billion dollars’ worth of Commie weapons and gear, the answer is yes.”
“Maybe closer to two-hundred-fifty million bucks,” Luke deadpanned, “but how would you like to be able to do that a couple more times?”
“Or maybe take out some of those drone operations?” Dwayne countered. “Word on the street is the Special Forces guys we have on our side are already looking for them, but couldn’t hurt to take a look.”
“Dwayne, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Luke intoned cheerfully, but his mind was already focusing on the damage they could do.
“Really?”
“If we don’t get killed on our next mission,” Luke tried to reassure the other private.
“Your recruiting pitch sucks,” Dwayne teased, “but I’m in, if you think we can make a difference.”
“Dwayne, no offense to Sergeant Hernandez, but imagine what Captain Jefferson might do with a scout team capable of doing more than sticking their dicks in the side of the tree and seeing if the bees are in a stinging mood that day.”
Dwayne winced at the image in his head but had to agree with the sentiment.
“Now, we just have to see who bells the cat,” Dwayne muttered to himself.
“What’s that?” Luke aske
d, his eyes tracking the dark terrain around them. Sunup was slow to get the memo this day, and when Luke risked a glance up to the clouds, he felt his shoulders sag.
“I asked, when do you think your plan will be ready?”
“Dunno, but you should get some sleep,” Luke replied, his voice tired from all the unexpected talking. “Oh and grab your poncho. Looks like rain. Maybe snow.”
“Joy,” Dwayne growled, but did as Luke suggested. Looking up, he decided the fat black-rimmed clouds threatened to provide a bit of precipitation, and given the temperature, it was likely they would be walking in the rain all the way back to camp. Cold, wind-driven rain.
Could be worse, Dwayne thought, and he snuggled down. Could be hot like those guys in the barracks.
Luke kept watch, his eyes scanning while his brain churned through his thoughts. This was a good start, but he knew he could do more. First, if he was going to use this opportunity with Second Squad to hurt the Committee even more, he needed to have Hernandez replaced. The sergeant seemed like a good man and someone concerned about his troops, but he lacked the proper training, mindset, and experience for what Luke wanted to do.
Not for the first time, Luke wished his father was here. Or David Metcalf. They would be able to take a small team of men and mold them into a fighting unit to be used as a force multiplier. The various National Guard units were fighting this war like a conventional conflict, trying to maneuver the Committee troops into set piece battles, where their superior training and defensive posture worked best. According to everything Luke heard, this seemed to be working, but slowly. Too slowly.
Luke expected to see or at least hear about some of the Special Forces troops from Fort Polk, but so far, nothing. Well, if Lieutenant Fisher allowed it, Luke had some ideas about how to disrupt the Committee lines and maybe take a shot at their logistics train. Mining roads, sniping officers, and taking out enemy patrols all appealed to Luke, but he would need to handpick his men and women. Luke thought about Abbie Winstead and wondered if she was really any good with that rifle.
Midnight Skills Page 30
