He swallowed. “Anybody got any corn?” The bit mixed in his canteen didn’t cut it.
Owen shook his head. “Pretty sure what we didn’t drink before went into our canteens. Probably for the best.”
Andrew nodded. What felt like a huge rock squatted in his stomach. The enemy was alert and behind walls. They’d have to charge those walls or wait for the artillery to knock them down while getting shelled themselves.
He hadn’t seen Alyssa since the officers’ last palaver with the scouts. She must be with the other company. The company that would go in first. His grip tightened on his rifle. He’d kill as many Flesh-Eaters on the wall as he could. Each one he killed wouldn’t be able to hurt Alyssa.
Beside him, several gunners rolled up cannon. The major, still mounted, rode behind the troopers spread out below the hill. His hard gaze flitted from soldier to soldier. He closed his eyes for a moment and nodded to a boy holding a battered bugle. The boy raised the bugle to his lips and blew it twice. The gunners shoved the two cannon over the crest of the hill. Mortars erupted behind Andrew.
“Forward!” Zeke ordered. “Give them hell!”
Andrew and the rest of the squad scrambled over the hill. The enemy fortress lay spread out below. Walls of raised timbers formed a five-pointed star. Towers with six-barreled rotating Sawyer guns rose at the corners. In the center of the star, well above the armed towers and back from the gate, rose a tall mooring tower shelled in wood rather than being open to the air like Carroll Town’s. Attached to the tower was a dirigible that no doubt carried even more guns.
Andrew suddenly had to piss. Behind him the cannon thundered, drowning out the whistling mortar shells and the crackling rifles. One round punched through the top of the left tower overlooking the fort’s barred gates. Screams erupted. Mangled men and shattered equipment fell. The other round flew through the space beneath the tower’s enclosed top and vanished.
Then the mortar rounds started landing. Pillars of smoke and fire bloomed within the fort. The chorus of screams grew louder. Andrew grinned.
New whistling filled the air. Andrew’s eyes bulged. His gut churned. Images of Carroll Town and the ambush rolled through his head.
A pillar of flame erupted to Andrew’s right. Now it was the Merrills’ turn to scream. Flesh, blood, and metal flew. Andrew glanced around. Three shells had fallen amid the troopers. Shattered bodies surrounded where the explosions had bloomed. Some of these bodies screamed. Most didn’t.
Chunk-chunk. The Merrill mortars were firing again. Andrew squeezed the trigger, hitting a Flesh-Eater visible amidst the smoke topping the wall. He toppled off the wall before the shells landed. Another shell exploded at the shattered left tower’s base. Wood cracked as it toppled into the fort.
Rather than falling onto the dirigible, the tower toppled straight backward, bridging the gap where the walls narrowed into the point of a star. Fuck. It didn’t look like it had even crushed any Flesh-Eaters
Gunfire crackled behind Andrew. Flesh-Eater horsemen burst onto the scene, blasting aside the Merrill flank guards. Andrew’s mind raced. The fort must’ve sent men out ahead of the attack. He scrambled back down the hill, shooting as he moved. A bullet sliced across the rider’s side. He shouted in pain, but continued his charge. His saber sang from its scabbard.
CRACK! Zeke’s bullet took him in the chest. He tumbled off his horse. The horse kept going. Will dropped the shell he was loading as the enormous animal bore down on him.
With a roar, Zeke threw himself over Will. Both hit the ground as the maddened horse rode over them. Andrew sighed in relief as both men rose after the horse passed.
Something whistled overhead. Andrew threw himself down. He’d barely hit the dirt when the ground shook. A wave of dirt and stones slammed into him. Something metal sliced across his forearm. Andrew looked up once the world stopped spinning. Will was on his feet and loading another shell. A few Flesh-Eater raiders fell back. Several lay dead, but they’d killed Merrill soldiers and, worse, kept some of the mortars quiet.
“Sutter!” Zeke roared. “Stop gaping and start shooting!”
Andrew scrambled back up. Smoke shrouded the fort below. The top of the right tower over the gate had been utterly smashed.
But the dirigible floated serenely amidst the clouds of smoke and dust. Andrew frowned. Maybe it wouldn’t come out to fight them, but if the men inside could find their assholes...
The cannon roared again. Andrew’s gaze jumped to the sound. This time the towers on the far side of the fort received their attention. One looked to have already taken mortar fire from the other company.
A mortar round exploded in the open space around the fort. Andrew swore. A second round exploded atop the large building he assumed was the barracks to the right of the mooring tower.
“No more shells!” Will shouted.
Andrew looked back at the fort. Three towers out of action. That left the tower directly behind the dirigible and the one behind the barracks to hose the horsemen with bullets if they circled the fort. Hose Alyssa…
A bugle blew in the distance. The other company, all mounted, erupted through the space between the hills. One hundred horsemen — and some horsewomen — surged toward the fort.
A repeater chattered from the wall. Two Merrill soldiers fell from their saddles. Andrew’s heart leaped into his chest as he saw long hair on one. Was it Alyssa? Was she hurt?
The injured horseman — horsewoman — pulled up onto her knees and right hand and crawled, dragging her left arm behind her. It was hard to tell the hair color from this distance. Was it just blonde or was it Alyssa’s distinctive honey color? He tried to rise.
“Stay goddamn down!” Zeke shouted. He grabbed Andrew by the sleeve and yanked him to the ground.
Andrew could still see the fighting below. The horsemen turned and rode parallel to the wall. Many fired on the Flesh-Eaters above, gun smoke streaming behind them. Others reached into their jackets. They lit something in their hands and threw them at the wall.
Fires bloomed where they struck. When the firebombs hit stone they quickly burned out, leaving black, ugly smears. When they hit wood the fires caught. Smoke darker than that from the mortars reached for the sky. The dirigible and mooring tower remained visible, but the black clouds hid much of the fort from Andrew’s sight.
Will appeared behind Andrew and handed Owen and Zeke clay containers with wicks.
“What are those?” Andrew asked.
“Firebombs like the cavalry got.”
Andrew looked at Owen and Zeke. “Not everybody gets one?”
“Probably too dangerous,” David said. “Fort’s made of wood. Too many people throwing them around and we’ll cook like the Flesh-Eaters. And there probably aren’t many of them and —”
“I got it.”
The trumpet blew behind Andrew. “Forward!” Zeke shouted.
The company rushed down the hill toward the battered gate. Gunfire crackled as the horsemen covered their advance. If there were any Flesh-Easters nearby, they were staying quiet.
The heat rose around them. Embers blew on the wind, falling like burning snow flurries. Sweat beaded on Andrew’s exposed skin, but there was no time to go for his canteen. Ahead lay the gate. His grip tightened on his rifle. He reckoned there were Flesh-Eaters lying in wait –
Something whistled overhead. Andrew flinched. The shell landed behind the gate, explosions visible through holes torn in the thick wood. Smoke choked the gateway. That took care of any lurking enemies. Hopefully.
The first Merrills at the gate reached through the mangled wood and wrestled with the bar. “Keep a goddamn eye out!” Zeke ordered.
Andrew looked for any flicker of red and black. Metal glinted. A rifle barrel peeked out of a gash in the wall. Andrew fired. The enemy gun jerked. The bullet that might have hit someone instead buried itself in the ground. Andrew grinned.
“It’s open!” someone shouted. “We got it open!”
The battered gat
es swung wide. Several men fired into the smoke before the rest streamed in.
Andrew had wondered what the inside of an enemy fort was like. Were there prisoners nailed to the walls? Did giant stewpots sit by the barracks, reeking of human flesh?
He didn’t see any of that. The fort opened up beneath the smoke-crowned – but clean — walls. Dead Flesh-Eaters lay scattered about. Directly before the gate, between the advancing Merrills and the base of the mooring tower, the enemy had heaped shattered wood into a barricade. The mouth of a cannon heavily scratched by the bombardment glared at the oncoming troopers like an evil eye.
“Hit the goddamn dirt!” Zeke shouted. The other sergeants echoed his words. Andrew slammed into the ground as the cannon roared.
Not everyone was quick enough. Several men in front of Andrew went flying. Not all of them hit the ground in the same place at the same time. The mixed stench of gunpowder and ruptured bowels filled Andrew’s nostrils. His guts churned. His ears rang.
It took a second to realize he was wounded again. Blood trickled down his left arm and the side of his face. He moved his arm to check. Pain flared in his forearm, which he expected, and his shoulder, which he didn’t. A quick glance showed a bloody tear, but no shrapnel peeked out.
The cannon disappeared behind the smoky barricade. The prone Merrills were firing, but most of their bullets buried themselves in the wood.
“Gollmar, cook the bastards!” Zeke shouted. “The rest of you, look for someone to shoot!”
Andrew’s gaze swept the savaged parapet above. Mangled bodies hung from the wooden platforms. Below one a brass halo of bullets surrounded a dropped ammunition box. Shit. Too far to grab.
Shouting and screaming tore his attention away. Zeke and Owen had thrown their firebombs. Flames erupted on the barricade. The Flesh-Eaters momentarily abandoned the cannon to douse the fire. The remaining Merrills surged forward. Blades flashed. Rifle butts rose and fell.
CRACK! A bullet caught a man in the head. It’d come out of the smoke to Andrew’s right. Andrew fired back, but there was no sign he’d hit anything.
More soldiers streamed through the gates behind them. Zeke pointed at the brick barracks. “The balloon-popper’ll be coming in soon. We’ll need to keep whoever’s in there bottled up!”
Something clanked above Andrew’s head. He looked up. Amid the smoke, steel shutters opened in the dirigible’s gondola. Long, lethal Sawyer guns and wide-mouthed cannon emerged.
“Oh fuck.”
Storming the Tower
“Sergeant!” Andrew pointed upward. “Look!”
Zeke’s eyes widened. “Everyone, forward!” Andrew joined the nearest troopers as they rushed out of the line of fire. They’d barely gotten to safety when the guns erupted over their heads. Men fell behind them. Some resembled shredded meat in uniforms rather than people before they hit the ground.
“Fall back!” someone shouted. The soldiers pouring into the gate abruptly changed course. Some retreated in good order, stopping to fire before moving again, but others fled pell-mell, knocking over their fellows. Their bodies sometimes shielded others when the bullets found them.
Now the only living Merrills inside the fort were either under the dirigible or hiding amid debris from the bombardment beneath the walls. Among the first group was Wyatt. Andrew scowled.
Goddamn it. Why’d he have to survive?
“Where’s Sergeant Thompson?” Zeke asked. Wyatt pointed to a corpse wearing sergeant’s stripes lying atop the blazing barricade. “That leaves me in charge then.” Zeke looked at the soldiers. “The balloon-popper’s outside and won’t be shooting that thing down if it stays where it is. And if it stays where it is, nobody else is coming in or getting out. If the sons of bitches in the barracks or whatever hidey-holes they’ve got find their heads, we’re going on the goddamn grill.”
Andrew swallowed. The men beneath the dirigible were a right pitiful few. If there were many Flesh-Eaters still in the barracks or if the airship crew started dropping grenades, they’d be in boot hill in an eyeblink.
Zeke pointed toward the base of the mooring tower ahead. “The only way we’re going to survive is if we get up there and take that dirigible.” He looked from soldier to soldier. “Who’s got grenades? Stairs are a right bitch without them.”
One of Wyatt’s soldiers raised his hand. “I’ve got two frags and a smoke.”
Nobody else had anything. Zeke swore. “Here we go. Wyatt, your squad covers my boys. We’ll cover you.”
Before Andrew had time to think they rushed the mooring tower. A slit opened in its wooden side about two stories up. A gun emerged. Instead of a single cracking shot, however, the gun chattered. A bullet slammed into the earth in front of Andrew. The next two rounds yanked David’s left leg out from under him. He slammed into the ground. His rifle bounced away. “My leg!” There were tears running down his face. “My leg! They shot me in my fucking leg!”
The chattering gunfire wasn’t finished. One of Wyatt’s men fled panicking from under the dirigible.
“You run, you fucking die!” Zeke shouted. He pointed to the tower door. “Get under the gun! He won’t be able to do jack shit!”
Now it was Wyatt and his men’s turn to run. Something moved within the barracks. Rifles peeked out of firing slits. Andrew shouldered his rifle and fired. His bullet ricocheted off the brick, but the gun abruptly pulled back.
“Pin them down!” Zeke shouted. The rest fired at the barracks. The enemy retaliated, but couldn’t hit shit with the squad hammering at them.
Wyatt dragged David screaming to the base of the tower. The soldier bringing up the rear, the one who had the grenades, took a round in one side and out the other. Blood was already streaming from his mouth when he hit the ground.
“Shit!” Owen swore. “Shit!”
“Not now!” Zeke shouted. “Gollmar, Simmons, break that goddamn door! The rest of you, keep the bastards in the barracks busy!” Zeke pointed at one of Wyatt’s soldiers, a dark-haired boy who reminded Andrew uncomfortably of the young Flesh-Eater he’d gut-shot at Carroll Town. “Get those goddamn grenades!”
Andrew kept looking for a way to get a bullet inside a firing slit. The enemy inside would eventually learn not to flinch if a bullet hit too close. Then the Merrill soldiers outside were dead meat...
Movement flickered to Andrew’s right. Were more cannibals joining the party? Andrew twisted, raising his rifle…
It was a dark-haired woman in a Merrill uniform sheltering behind some barrels. “Don’t shoot, goddamn it!”
Andrew nodded. He looked up at the dirigible. If the Flesh-Eaters above hadn’t known they were there, they certainly knew now. They would be dropping grenades any minute…
When death came, it wasn’t from above. The thick wooden doors of the barracks popped open. There was a Flesh-Eater there with a rifle.
CRACK!
The bullet caught Hank in the chest. He dropped abruptly. By the time Andrew had his rifle aimed, the doors had slammed shut.
“No!” Andrew screamed. He started shooting at the door. The bullets harmlessly buried themselves in the thick wood. That didn’t stop him. He’d drill through the door, put a hole in the head of that goddamn murderer…
“Sutter!” Zeke shouted. He grabbed Andrew by the shoulder and shook him, cutting through the red haze of his anger. “Sutter, don’t waste your goddamn ammo! Check on Evans!”
Andrew knelt by his fallen friend. The bullet had punched straight through Hank’s breastbone. Blood trickled from his mouth. His eyes were wide and staring. He’d realized he’d been shot before he died.
“No!” Andrew whispered. “Not again!”
He hadn’t known Hank long or well, but he’d helped Andrew look for Sarah. The enemy had made him a Flesh-Eater, but he hadn’t let them rot his soul. He’d escaped the bastards, fought for the right side…
And now he was dead. Andrew clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. It wouldn’t be just for
Sam he’d kill all the cannibal devil-worshipping bastards…
Wood cracked. “We’re through!” Owen shouted.
Zeke pulled Andrew away from Hank. “It’s too late for him!” He pointed to David. “Get him inside!”
Andrew dashed over and grabbed David’s left arm. He pulled the arm across his shoulders and pulled David up. David moaned. “Keep your weight on your good leg,” Andrew ordered. “Keep hold of the gun.” David nodded weakly.
Andrew carried David through the door, one last bullet from the barracks speeding his passage. As soon as they were inside, Zeke slammed the door shut and replaced the bar the soldiers had jarred free.
“Put him down,” Zeke ordered. When that was done, he cut open David’s bloody pants to examine the wounds.
“We’re going to have to tie this off or you’ll bleed out.”
“Tie it off?” David babbled. “Tie it off? That means they’ll have to cut it off…”
While Zeke cut strips from David’s pants and tied off the wounded leg, Andrew reloaded. He didn’t plan on running dry before killing the son of a bitch who’d murdered Hank. Pain lanced through his arm as he worked. He scowled and did his best to ignore it.
Once he finished the tourniquet, Zeke pulled David to the bottommost step. “Anyone who comes through the door who isn’t us, shoot him.” Zeke pointed to one of Wyatt’s troopers. “You stay with him. The rest, up the stairs. By twos!”
Two of Wyatt’s men rushed upward, pausing before the landing. One peeked around the corner. “Clear!” The rest followed. Once they’d gathered at the landing, Zeke picked two more to make the next leg.
They didn’t run into any trouble until the fourth landing. A grenade bounced around the corner and clattered down the stairs. Andrew froze. If it got any farther, they were all dead…
Owen stepped sideways and kicked the grenade hard. It flew off the steps, struck the wall behind them, and rolled around the corner.
“GET DOWN!” Zeke shouted.
The soldiers threw themselves down on the stairs as the grenade exploded. Wood splintered below. Heat washed over them. Something slashed across Andrew’s back. Andrew turned to the young soldier with the grenades. “Give me one!” he snarled. The man quickly obeyed.
Battle for the Wastelands Page 24
