by Reed, N. C.
Faron Gillis grit his teeth as he watched his troops being caught in such withering fire. All this time he had sat blocking the road, unable to help them at all. Now, things had changed. Hard charging assailants were coming through the woods in three places, the three places his people had just withdrawn from. His face grim from the losses he had seen so far, Gillis lowered the Ma Deuce and depressed the butterfly firing mechanism.
If you’ve never seen a BMG in action, it can be difficult to picture just how destructive a fifty-caliber round could be. The damage inflicted is beyond the imagination of most people who have never encountered the kind of violence that generally would involve such weaponry.
The word horrific is not an exaggeration.
People who had just moments before been screaming in victory for having driven the defenders back now screamed in agony as they lost limbs or watched their comrades be torn apart. Gillis swept the big gun back and forth, turning the turret so that he could cover the entire front. Deep in his subconscious it occurred to him that he should be horrified at the damage he was inflicting, at the carnage he wrought over and over.
But his conscious mind was running the show, and all it could see was that the people he was targeting had hurt and killed soldiers under his command. And for that, there could be no forgiveness.
-
“Damn,” Kevin Bodee muttered as he watched Gillis expertly break up the oncoming attack all by his lonesome, literally chewing it apart with the big machine gun. His attention turned to the ATV carrying the medics as is slid to a halt nearly on top of him. Heather scrambled off the rear of the vehicle, shouldering a rifle and then grabbing the Mark 48 Kevin himself had left for her group.
“Gates is gone,” Carly Isaacson told him. “Kenny is alive, but I think busted up inside. He took a high caliber round to the back of his vest. Didn’t penetrate, but it did do some damage. We’re taking him to get checked out.”
“Stop at the left flank on your way out,” Kevin ordered. “They’ve got a casualty over there. Need one of you to stay here since we’ve got walking wounded. Once they’re dressed you can get back to making runs.”
“I got it,” Raven Elliot nodded, grabbing her bag and jumping to the ground. “Better look at that arm, first,” she told Heather Patton, climbing down into the hole with her.
“Just a scratch,” Heather told her. “I’m good.”
“That ‘scratch’ looks like it might have broken your arm,” Raven snorted. “Let me see it while there’s time.”
“We’re gone then,” Howard told Kevin. “Be back as soon as we can.” With that the ATV roared away, leaving things surprisingly quiet for once. Kevin realized that the heavy machine gun had stopped and immediately feared something had happened to the Cougar or to Gillis, but a hurried look found Gillis sweeping the area looking for more targets.
There were none at present. Kevin surveyed the area, including the bodies, and pieces of bodies that littered the area, and had a stray thought; had they won?
Heavy gunfire erupting behind him to the west answered the question before it was fully formed.
CHAPTER TEN
Nate stopped the group with a fist held in the air, his own movements stopped in mid-stride. Slowly kneeling to the ground, he signaled for the others to do likewise and then join him. Jose was the first to reach him, and immediately saw what had prompted Nate’s actions.
“Twenty, maybe?” Jose asked as Nate looked through binoculars.
“I count twenty-two, but they disappear into the trees,” Nate noted, lowering his glasses. “I’d say this is the far left of whatever line they have. And they aren’t far from the Hill, here, either.”
“No, they aren’t,” Jose agreed. “Well, this is what we came for, so let’s be about it. Zach, you stand by with the 48. The rest of us will open the ball with suppressors until we’re spotted. Zach will provide cover for us until then, and after that he can start hammering at any groups we find. Questions? Then we go in one minute.”
Everyone took their position, Zach remaining in the center. Jose’s first shot was the signal for the rest and then everyone was shooting.
-
“Sounds as if your men are engaged, Lieutenant,” Gleason noted, his head cocked to one side as he tried to pin down the exact bearing. He was fairly sure it was southwest of their location.
“Sounds that way,” Clay agreed. “That probably means we’ll be hearing-,” He was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire to the south.
“And now they’re all in,” Gleason nodded once. Before he could say anything else, an ATV came roaring through the yard to slide to a stop in front of T2. Moses Brown and Devon Knowles were already outside, stretchers in hand to assist with moving the wounded. Kaitlin Caudell was also there, doing triage.
“Two wounded and one KIA,” Carly Isaacson reported, her voice professionally precise. “One male, heavy round to the back of his vest. No penetration, but definite bruising to the center of the torso and likely some internal damage, almost certainly cracked or broken ribs. One female, hit high on the thigh, and it’s a bleeder. Possible that it hit the femoral artery. The KIA caught a round on the side where his armor didn’t close. I doubt he knew what hit him. The enemy is using steel core ammo in some spots and it’s devastating when it hits.”
“Alright, get the bleeder in first,” Kaitlin nodded to her stretcher bearers, who moved to Talia Gray. Brannon Howard jumped down from the wheel to help with getting Matt Kenny inside and unloading Ellis Gates’ body.
“Rusty Gates was a good man,” Gleason said, his voice all but toneless. “Solid NCO.”
Clay said nothing. He didn’t have anything to add. Within three minutes the medic and driver were back outside, guzzling water from canteens before climbing aboard the ATV and heading back out.
Clay silently wished them well and said a prayer for their safety. There was likely no more dangerous job on a battlefield than a medic.
-
Zayne Parris divided his time between watching for the enemy and watching Carrie Jarrett. He didn’t know the young woman well and had no idea how she would react under fire. For that matter, he wasn’t at all sure how he would react under fire. He wiped his hands on his pants as he peered out the slot in front of him.
“Stop that,” Beau Abramson said, smacking Parris’ hands lightly. Parris, as a corporal, actually outranked PFC Abramson, but the two had been together since boot camp. He gave Abramson a mock glare and muttered something that might have sounded like ‘respect’.
“You two are a real laugh riot, aren’t you?” Carrie snorted, her eyes constantly moving. “You better start paying attention before something bites you. Some of this bunch can really shoot.”
“I ain’t even seen any of ‘em, yet,” Parris declared loudly. “If I do see one then we’ll see who can shoo-,”
Zayne Parris’ statement would remain forever unfinished as a jacketed hollow point from a hunting rifle slammed into his forehead and blew his brains into the helmet strapped to his head.
“Shit!” Abramson turned while as a sheet, trying to grab his friend and help him.
“Forget him, he’s gone,” Carrie told him, her voice flat and dull. “Get back on your window or we’ll be with him sooner rather than later. And keep your head down,” she added. Normally that would not have needed to be said, but considering what had just happened, she decided to throw it in.
“How can you be like that?” Abramson demanded, standing fully erect in the bunker, hands balled tightly into fists. “You’re a medic, aren’t you? Do something!”
“He took a round to the head, big man,” Carrie shook her head slowly, never looking around. “There’s nothing I can do about that. Don’t take that helmet off!” she warned, but Abramson did so anyway, immediately turning to puke his guts out after seeing what was left of his friend. Carrie sighed and picked up the field phone, ringing the switchboard.
-
“Operations, this is Janice. How can
I assist you?”
“Janice, for God’s sake, don’t you know there’s a war on?” Carrie Jarrett almost laughed despite her situation.
“Oh, yes. Of course, I do!” Janice replied. “How’s that going, by the way?”
“Can’t say how it’s going for the others, but I got one man KIA and another who is puking up everything he’s eaten in the last two days, looks like. I need help out here, and I need it pretty quick. But tell whoever comes that we’re taking sniper fire, so be extra cautious.”
“Got it!” Janice assured her, writing the message down. “I’ll let Mister Clayton know right away!”
“You know, Janice, there are times when I swear you can’t be real,” Carrie chuckled drily.
“Really? Why?” Janice asked, but Carrie was already gone. Shrugging, the blonde got to her feet and carried the note to Clay, returning immediately to the switchboard to take another call. With the addition of Millie, Janice and Leanne, the center was becoming crowded, but the team had divided up the work with everyone taking one area of responsibility. Janice had the switchboard, Millie was monitoring the FRS bands, Leon the tactical channel, Gwen the military bands, and Leanne was more or less pinch hitting and supervising. Everyone knew by now that Heath Kelly was in the clinic, in dangerous condition. They did their best to give Leanne room.
As Clay read the message, Janice was on the phone again.
“Yes, he’s here, but he’s very…okay, I can ask…oh, well, hold on then,” she finally said. “Mister Clayton? Miss Newell is on the phone and says she needs to talk to you right away, sir!”
“So does everyone else,” Clay muttered. Even still he turned toward the switchboard. Sienna Newell was rock solid. If she said she needed to talk to him, then she did. “See if you can find someone to send out to this bunker,” he ordered Gleason as he pointed to where Carrie Jarrett was.
“Yes, sir,” the older man nodded, going to work right away. Meanwhile, Clay picked up the phone from Janice.
“Cece, I’m really in a bind, here. What’s going on?”
“You do know that we have a perfectly working Stryker ambulance sitting behind T3 don’t you?” the former Lieutenant didn’t waste any words.
“I know we have one, but last I heard the transmission on it was shot,” Clay replied, his mind already thinking ahead.
“Jake and I rebuilt it,” Sienna said proudly. “Purrs like a Singer sewing machine, she does. Already set up to take wounded. And armored a lot better than a Hummer or even a Cougar, and damn sure better than an ATV. It doesn’t have a gun, but that’s the only downside.”
“It sure is,” Clay almost hummed. “And we can fix that. Get your ass over to Operations right now. And don’t get it shot, or Jake will crush me.”
“Yes, sir!” The line went dead at once. Clay turned to Gleason.
“We may just have a trump card, Sergeant.”
-
“Advance,” Jose said calmly. The entire line walked forward, still shooting. Zach held back roughly one step, Keeping an eye behind them as well as on their flanks.
The enemy, whoever they were, had not yet noticed they were being clipped from the west flank and continued forward. They began to come under fire from people defending the Hill, and at that point they noticed that they were losing people at a high rate.
“Down,” Jose issued another one-word order and all seven men hit the ground prone. Zach no longer held back, instead bringing the light machine gun into play against the survivors. Keeping to short, controlled bursts, he swept the area to their front, the Mark 48 demoralizing the enemy as much as it damaged them physically. Their adversary was now pinned between two fields of fire and could not stand that kind of heat for long.
Perhaps two minutes after being engaged from two directions, the surviving aggressors seemed to come to a unanimous and unified decision to jump to their feet and run for their lives. Normally the defenders might have stopped shooting, but not this time. Too much farm blood had been spilled, too many friends were dead.
“Pursuit,” Jose ordered, getting to his feet. “Cautiously. Take no chances. Or prisoners.”
The line moved forward without a word.
-
Carrie Jarrett heard a powerful engine behind her but couldn’t spare the time to check it out. Hopefully it was a Cougar with some help. Parris was absolutely dead, and Abramson was not dealing with that fact well at all. He was essentially useless, leaving her to defend the position alone. She was confident of her ability, but she also knew her limitations, something mercilessly drilled into her psyche during her initial training. Those limitations included holding this position alone for any length of time. She could hear firing to her right and left, which meant she was not completely alone and isolated, but having someone dozens of yards away was not nearly as comforting as having competent help right beside her.
As the noise got louder, she finally risked a glance behind her and found a large, armored vehicle backing over her position, covering the entrance. As the hatch opened, a Guardsman named Howard and a Guardswoman she knew as Isaacson, rushed inside. The woman guided Abramson to the safety of the vehicle while Howard grabbed Parris’ body and dragged it in the same direction. Devon Knowles passed the two as she stepped down into the bunker.
“Pest control,” Devon snarked. “Clay heard you needed a squad to help and sent me. Figured I’d be enough.”
“You definitely talk enough shit for a whole squad,” Carrie gave her friend as good as she got. “I am glad to see you, girl.”
“Pleasure to be here,” Devon said sarcastically. “Now, let’s kick some ass.”
-
Despite Devon’s apparent desire to ‘kick some ass’, within five minutes of her arrival, it became obvious that their enemy was breaking off their attack. A few parting shots from much further back toward the tree line than just a minute before were the last efforts of a defeated enemy.
All along the southern line, people continued to watch from their sunken defenses, hoping it really was over.
-
Faron Gillis scanned ahead of him with binoculars, trying to see through the trees and onto the highway as he looked for any sign of the next attack. He knew that the last attack had taken a great deal of damage, but so far that hadn’t seemed to discourage them. While he wanted to hope that the battle was over, he knew better than to take it for granted. The people attacking them had fought with a fervor usually attributed only to the truly desperate or else the true fanatics.
Both were extraordinarily dangerous.
There were ten people left on the eastern line, and he and Dezi Martin, his driver, were two of them. Several of the others were wounded and all of them were tired. Another massed attack just might be enough to get by them, and that could spell doom for the farm. The area behind them was only lightly defended, a hollow shell with very few actual guns. That meant that his people, regardless of their condition, had to fight and hold, right here.
His eye was drawn to movement to his front, and he turned the binoculars to look in that direction. Movement continued, though he was unable to clearly make out what it might be. He was about to call out a warning to the line when the sound of a powerful vehicle, punctuated by the hammering of a machine gun, came roaring through the woods from the direction of the interstate.
“What the hell?” Gillis leaned forward, ducking almost instinctively, until he realized that none of that fire was reaching him. Or kicking up dirt around the rest of his group. The firing continued for over a minute before going quiet. The silence was almost deafening.
He tensed as the front end of a Hummer came into view, having obviously driven around the log trailer blocking the road. The gun atop the Hummer was unmanned and pointing skyward.
“Who in the hell is that?” he wondered aloud.
-
“Enough,” Jose ordered finally as the final dregs of their enemy escaped through the heavier woods to the south. He had to repeat the order as he roug
hly patted Zach’s shoulder. The teen nodded and ceased firing at once. He simply hadn’t heard the first time, Jose realized.
“We need to sanitize this area,” Jose noted, removing his pistol and screwing a suppressor on the end of the barrel. Others followed suit, or else reached for their knives.
“I don’t want anyone left alive out here,” Jose ordered flatly. “Nobody to kill one of ours as we try and investigate and glean the field. Make sure of it.”
-
“Operations, this is Gillis, over.”
“Go for Operations, Lieutenant,” Leon replied.
“Please advise Bossman that we are clear up here, and that he may want to take a ride up this way. We have some visitors he’ll be interested in.”
“Who is it, Faron?” Clay took the radio. “I’m a little busy here.”
“Someone we thought was long gone, sir,” Gillis said carefully. “Rather not say more than that, even on our own channel. Maybe especially on our own channel.”
Clay pondered that for a few seconds. There were only a few reasons for Gillis to be less than forthcoming with his radio traffic. He obviously felt someone might be listening in, and that the news he had was sensitive at least for now. It wasn’t bad news, well probably not, anyway, since all they’d had this morning was bad news. Thus, it was likely to be good news, or at least neutral. At this point, he’d take neutral, to be honest. Suddenly the quiet broke through his ruminations.
“Do you hear that?” he asked the room in general.
“I don’t hear anything,” Janice was the first to respond, sounding apologetic.
“I don’t hear any shooting,” Millie noted. “I…I don’t hear any shooting at all!” she added with more enthusiasm.
“Neither do I,” Leon nodded slowly. He reached for the phone and called Jody Thompson, then Samantha Walters.
“Jody and Sam both report no fire from any direction at this time,” he informed his uncle.
“I’ll be up there in a few, Faron,” Clay told Gillis suddenly. “Soon as I can secure everything here.”
