by Finley, Zack
The last few miles seemed to go on forever. I checked my rifle, my extra magazines, my flashbangs, everything at least 10 times. It would all be anticlimactic if there was no roadblock. I didn't let my mind go there. If there was no roadblock, we'd adjust the plan and deal with it.
"Lead Scout to Convoy."
"Go for Convoy," I radioed.
"Zulus have stopped at a roadblock, staging now."
Within minutes all our vehicles were silent, and about 40 warriors moved to their assigned positions. Zeke, Matt, Tom, and I moved to a position to observe the operation, not far from where Craig and Mike set up their sniper's nest.
We were very fortunate the Zulus left the Humvee engines on, or they would have heard our tree cutters. The opposition had someone in each turret, and their headlights were on, lighting up the roadblock in stark detail. The Chaney Gap people chose a great spot for a barricade, with sheer walls on the left side of the road, descending steeply into a creek on the right. They had cut enough trees to make navigating the creek impossible for anything motorized. We might be able to haul a ninja over the obstacles, but it would take a team to do it.
The roadblock was comprised of two cars, pushed together side by side across the road. The front of each car dug into the left-hand bank of the canyon. An old farm truck took up the rest of the lane, parked on the road behind the cars at a 90-degree angle to them. The tires were flat on the truck and on the first car nearest us.
Three men stood in the glare of the headlights. I immediately picked out the one in charge, of at least that group. Just from body language. They were probably arguing over whether attempting to pull out the front car or the pickup was the quickest option. I could see both would eventually succeed. Once they pulled out the first car, they could shove the next one forward out of the way. If they could shift the truck into neutral, pulling it out might be quickest.
"Hostages are in the Humvee on the left side of the road, to the rear," the scout radioed. He then rattled off the license plate number. I wasn't the only one who memorized it. The hostages were in one of the Humvees we got from the Tennessee National Guard with its government plates.
The man I guessed was in charge got into the hostage Humvee, and within moments two other men hopped out of it. It still had a turret operator, and it now had the boss man in it. The arrival of the two helpers from the boss man's Hummer was the apparent signal for the work to begin.
We watched the group's first attempt to move the truck, but after several tries, they switched to the cars. The night was cold and clear, with a slight breeze. From my position, the sound of Humvee engines dominated the night. The scent of diesel exhaust fumes drove out the earthy smells of the forest at night. The waiting had begun.
Our teams were in place, but I hesitated to initiate the action, choosing to bide my time for a bit longer. We now had nine Zulus in the open, plus one in each turret. Two winches weren't enough to move the first car. The winches were probably strong enough, but the gravel on the road didn't provide enough traction for the Humvees. Instead of the car moving, the Humvees slid. The leader seemed to reach a decision, and the door to the hostage Humvee opened, and another man got out. This answered the question we all had, there were 16 Zulus, not 15.
The new guy was dragging the winch cable from the hostage Humvee over to connect to the car when I gave the order. The three men in the turrets went down first, followed moments later by the 10 Zulus in the open. The hostage rescue team raced to the hostage Humvee when a muffled shot came from inside it. Only Zeke tackling me kept me from running to it.
The driver's door opened briefly, and someone ejected a body from the driver's seat onto the ground. Before my people could get to the Humvee, those inside latched the turret hatch. By now, the two other Humvees were trying to pull back, but their cables were fouled around the car. None of the Humvees could turn around on the narrow road because each was towing a heavily-laden trailer.
The hostage rescue team tried to open the doors on the hostage Hummer, but they were locked, and someone was backing it away from the roadblock.
Flashbangs dropped the two remaining Zulus. Their assigned teams hauled them out onto the gravel.
"Jeremy, your mom is driving the Humvee. She is about to crash into some of our trees," radioed Buzzer.
Zeke leaped up and pulled me after him. I ran pell-mell down the hillside and onto the road. Standing in the headlights, I removed my helmet and waved my arms, to get her attention.
At first, she kept stubbornly backing the trailer into the downed tree, moving it only a few feet before stopping.
"Dad, is that you?" came over the loudspeaker. It was so squawky I couldn't confirm it was Jennifer, but I was betting my life that it was.
"Is it safe to come out?" she squawked. This prompted the rescue team to swarm the Humvee as I nodded. Within seconds, I enfolded Jennifer and my mom in my arms, followed only moments later by Ellie.
Tom skidded to a stop beside us. Checking to make sure they were okay. He wrapped them in metallic blankets, hoping to ward off shock. My team carried Ellie and Jennifer to our closest Humvee, but my mom insisted on walking. Now they were safe, it felt like my life had started again.
"Convoy, this is Grady; we have four armed Tangos checking us out from Chaney Gap."
"Snipers moving up," Craig radioed.
"Once snipers are in position, Ben and company pull out. I don't want another shooting war tonight," I radioed.
Grady, Ben, Craig, and Joel acknowledged.
Zeke organized the rest of the group to shift downed trees and unhook the trailers from the Humvees. Others searched the dead. The two living Zulus lay face down on the gravel, already zip-tied, with bags over their heads.
One-by-one, we turned the Humvees around and reconnected the trailers. After the Humvees cleared out, the fallback squad tossed everything into it that we recovered from the dead.
The four skirmishers from Chaney Gap might wonder what we were doing, but they'd know soon enough. I left them a note, advising the bodies were murdering kidnappers. I apologized for leaving the bodies behind. I added a HAM radio frequency and told them to contact us there any day at noon.
I then ran to the Humvee that contained my family. Buzzer was now at the wheel. Ellie and Jennifer slept on the floor in a makeshift pallet. Tom blocked me from entering the Humvee to brief me on his health assessment of the hostages.
"I told your mom about Esther, Melissa, Joe, and Billy. She wanted to know about other casualties, so I had to tell her about the three KIAs at the gate. I'm hopeful the fourth one will pull through, but he lost a lot of blood," Tom said. "I gave Jennifer and Ellie a mild sedative to help them sleep. They were exhausted, so it didn't take much. Claire refused any, but I tried.
"Don't worry, she is more stubborn than a mule and can pull information out of a turnip," I said. "The rest of us don't stand a chance. Don't sweat it. Thanks for seeing to them."
Tom nodded and climbed back into the shotgun seat. I crawled into the seat behind him, next to the sleeping girls on the floor and beside my mom. She reached across the gap and squeezed my arm.
"I'm okay," she said. "Just very tired. And sad. And angry. This is a terrible time, but we will get through it. Our babies are safe, that is what counts."
I mumbled something, but she didn't let me off the hook, giving me a rough shake.
"Your forces outclassed these yokels and made them pay. But it isn't over. In many ways, the next few days will be harder for everyone. Right now, we are still on an adrenaline high. Meditate, do what you must. You need to be there for your girls, for Aaron," my mom trailed off. She squeezed my arm again before releasing it.
I pondered my mom's advice. I was saddened but not surprised about the Valley casualties. A .50 caliber machine gun kills, it seldom wounds. Tom was hopeful about the fourth, since only a bullet fragment wounded him. Tom didn't know the names of those shot. He'd been too busy keeping victim four from bleeding out.
Too many grieving families. Jennifer and Melissa had barely recovered from Irene's death, then the apocalypse, and now this.
Craig, Joel, and Mike exfiltrated without incident. Zeke and I both worried someone from Chaney Gap might follow us home. We assigned four ninjas to cover our back trail and look for a tail.
The first two ninjas monitored the barricade until everyone else was well on their way. The second pair set up a monitoring site about a quarter-mile up the road. The roadblock ninjas withdrew, passing the second set of hidden scouts. We maintained this orderly leapfrogging retreat until everyone made it back to US 27. There was no sign of anyone following us. Our scouts lingered for nearly half an hour, monitoring the intersection where we left the main road to Chaney Gap. Nothing followed.
Our fuel trucks waited for us in the church parking lot on US 27. We folded them into our extensive convoy and headed home.
"Convoy to Justice," blared over the Humvee radio. On the fifth try, we heard a faint, "Go for Justice."
"All chicks safe. All Zulus down," I recognized Mike's voice speaking for the convoy.
"Great news, go straight to the Valley," radioed Justice.
"The main group will proceed to Valley. Will leave reinforcements at Justice, just in case someone followed," Mike radioed.
"Roger, we'll be waiting. So glad you are back. We'll forward your message to the Valley."
The girls slept on. My mom remained isolated in her own world, and I brooded. I knew I should rejoice that against all the odds, we rescued my mom, Jennifer, and Ellie without further loss of life. I knew deep in my soul, even if Granny lost her life, she willingly sacrificed herself to save her family.
Within me, the murderous rage remained at a simmer, bolstered by the sense of betrayal. We built walls around our family to protect them, guarding against outside threats. But when the blow came, it wasn't some horde of hungry refugees, the betrayal came from within. It was a group we took in and sheltered. Killing them once was not enough.
Three of our people dead and two critically wounded. For what?
◆◆◆
Chapter 7
About half our expedition peeled off at Justice. Matt organized the group quickly. While we didn't think anyone from Chaney Gap followed us, Justice would be at high alert for much of the night. Steve and Mandy waited in the Valley.
FOB Bravo waved us through, and we moved deliberately around the serpentine obstacles. The Mecklin River bridge looked the same, but the machine guns ripped up the guardhouse. No wonder three died. I was surprised anyone survived that onslaught. A concrete barrier shielded the shack on the river side, but the rest of the construction shredded like tissue paper.
With this new style threat in mind, reassessing Valley protection took on a new set of variables. But that was a topic for another day.
Buzzer drove us directly to my dad's house. Before he even stopped, my mom was out the door at a dead run, straight for my dad. Buzzer helped me carry the sleeping girls into the house. My sister, Alice, directed us to the corner of our family room near the stove. Billy and Melissa slept soundly nearby, sprawled out on the bean bags my mom insisted were the perfect kid magnets. We settled Ellie and Jennifer in the jumble of bags, blankets, and pillows.
Mandy tucked Ellie in, kneeling beside her. Mandy caressed Ellie's hair away from her daughter's face, pausing only when Ellie shifted to nestle further into the pillow.
"I don't think they will want to be alone," Alice said. "We will just speak quietly."
"Granny?" I asked.
Alice glanced toward our parents and lowered her voice even more, "No change, but it doesn't look good. Her brain swelled in response to the injury. Dr. Jerrod says there is internal bleeding, and we just need to wait and see. Granny is on life support now; she can't breathe on her own. Uncle Bob and Uncle George are with her. Daddy knows what she wanted, but it will be hard on all of us."
I gave Alice a firm squeeze, knowing the toll waiting caused. At least I stayed in the thick of the action. Having to wait and offer comfort to family required a different toughness. She and I were friends growing up, but she moved to Chicago when I went to college. While I pursued my Army career, she married Alex. We barely spoke before or since the crash. Just too busy.
Alice was right, we all knew Granny vigorously opposed any heroic measures holding her to this life. She reminded us often enough that she planned to join Pops to keep him out of trouble in the hereafter. As long as there was a chance she could pull through, she would have to indulge us a bit longer. Granny was a tough old bird at 86, and we still needed her.
I patted Mandy's shoulder as she stood up. Mandy pulled me to her side for a hug, whispering "thank you" in my ear before releasing me. She returned to her place on the couch next to Joe.
Roger and Carmine sat quietly on the family room couch, holding hands. Mandy and Steve sat beside Carmine with Joe stuffed between them. I wondered if he found that position comforting or agonizing. Joe sat very still, his eyes haunted. I recognized that look. We needed to watch him closely, PTSD could be lethal, especially combined with a heavy dose of guilt. He was too young to bear that combination.
"Aaron, let's get this over with. I want a shower, even a cold one, and I never want to tell this story again," my mom said, standing back up, pulling my dad out of his chair. He appeared old, drawn, and wan. His red, swollen eyes sank into his skull. His nose rubbed raw and painful, with his face still streaked with untouched tear stains. He looked so much like Pops near the end that it worried me. When had my dad gotten so old? His beard was now mostly gray, with only hints of red.
The adults, including Joe, moved to the dining room. While most sat at the table, Alice sat near the door, keeping one ear on the sleeping kids. Roger flipped out a notebook and pencil, nodding at my mom to encourage her to start.
"Joe, Billy, and Ellie were excited about moving to Justice. I pulled a few strings, and we met everyone at Jeremy's house several hours before supper. I expected to be busy later, getting ready for the council meeting but wanted to help out. It was kid stuff, it was fun. The kids started a pillow fight. That was why we didn't hear anything until too late," my mom sipped a glass of water. "I don't know how they got in, but none of the doors was locked. From what I heard later, they probably came down from the second floor, since most of them lived there. They split us up. The boss man, Pimples, kept threatening everyone."
"Pimples?" Roger asked.
"His name was Phil Everette, but I called him Pimples. He didn't like it," my mom said, grimacing. "I think he was also a pedophile. I reacted when he started to paw the girls, that is when he hit me and hurt Joe. I kept needling him, thinking if he focused on me, he would leave girls alone. They zip-tied our hands but left our feet free." I studied her face, spotting the developing bruise all along the left side.
"They were so busy groping me and the girls, they didn't check my boot where I keep my holdout pistol. They separated Esther and me. I went with the girls in the first golf cart. They threatened to kill everyone if we called any attention to ourselves. Pimples put me in the Humvee with him and shoved Ellie and Jennifer in the other two. They expected to send the cart back for the rest, but something happened. I didn't see what, but everybody piled into the Humvees, and we sped off. They made me lie down on the floor. A minute later and the gun in our turret deafened me. I knew when we crossed the bridge and went through the serpentine exit at FOB Bravo. I don't know what the hell they shot at later, but their turret man really got into it. It took a long time for my hearing to return to normal."
She sipped her water, her eyes swept the room, before continuing, "They listened on the radio to your negotiations, laughing the whole time. I couldn't hear everything, but our kidnappers made it clear they never intended to let us go. A poor tactical choice on their part. It freed me to take greater risks. They worried a lot about being followed. I don't know how you stayed with us without being spotted. They left some girl monitoring the bridge. Then they kept stop
ping at blind corners looking behind them to check. I think some wanted a confrontation, they believed they outgunned our people."
"We had a pair of ninjas at Justice when this went down." I said, "they saw the Humvees turn south on US-27. We sent Jules up in an airplane, and he followed the Humvees until we could mount a response."
My mom smiled at my dad, patting him on the hand. "Now I understand why you insisted on airplanes. It certainly paid off today."
She continued, "They really screwed up when they put all three of us in the same Humvee. Jennifer was mad; they confiscated her knife at the house, but Ellie hid her nail file. We used it to gnaw through the zip-ties until we could break them when needed. I had my holdout pistol, but even when we stopped, they kept the turret man, Pimples, and a guard on us until the very end. Even then, I weighed the odds. I might have tried sooner with a knife instead of a nail file as our second weapon."
"Did Pimples say anything about their destination?" Roger asked. "Or why they were going there."
