by Lou Cadle
Kelly rolled her eyes, then turned to face forward again.
Curt was the fourth, there in case they decided to go down to Payson and shoot a few of the invaders today. He said, “I brought a big thermos of tea if you want some, Arch. And I suspect those two who came up the other day were on the level.”
“I damn well hope so. We’re all betting our lives on it,” Arch said.
“Language, Arch,” Kelly murmured.
Sierra snorted. That was so like Kelly, to worry about cursing when they might end up shooting it out with these people if things went badly.
Kelly said, “I don’t want them to think I married some trashy man who cusses all the time.”
Curt said, “Once they get to know you, they’ll respect you like we all do, Kelly.”
“Turn there, Arch,” Kelly said.
“I see it.”
They were the first to arrive, which soothed Arch a little. He said, “At least it wasn’t an ambush. We could do some harvesting while we wait.”
“That wouldn’t send the right message,” Kelly said. “We’ll do it together. Working together can create bonds. And then we’ll split what we pick.”
Curt said, “Good idea.”
Arch said, “Sierra should back off and get ready to use her rifle if things go south.”
Curt said, “That’d send a terrible message.”
Sierra said, “We could all stand close to the trees here, so we can jump behind one if something goes wrong.”
Arch approved of that compromise, but insisted he and Kelly stand several yards away. Curt and Sierra stood with their backs against the same tree. She kept her rifle strap on her shoulder. Curt held his rifle casually in one hand, the barrel pointed at the ground.
“You think there’ll be trouble?” she asked him, speaking quietly.
“I hope not. But I’m not all that good at predicting what people will do. I’m out of practice with them.”
“No, you do fine. Better than you claim. I suspect you know that. You just don’t like people.”
He made an amused sound. “I like you fine.”
“Well, that’s different.”
“You’re not a person?”
“Not today. Today I’m a sniper.”
The sound he made this time wasn’t amused. “I’m not what you’d call excited about that idea.”
“Why not?”
“For all we know, they have patrols in the woods around Payson now.”
“They’re city boys,” she said. “We’ll hear them before they hear us.”
“They might have experienced military guys among their ranks.”
“Not a lot of ground wars the past ten or fifteen years, right? Mostly drone stuff, from what I’ve read.”
“You haven’t been reading online.”
“From Arch’s library, though he doesn’t have much about the past ten years. It’s mostly old. Which ends up being good because we don’t have advanced tech. Soon enough, I suppose we’ll be fighting a 19th-century war.”
“Shocking that Arch doesn’t have a drone camera. Unless he does and hasn’t brought it up.”
“No, he would have been using it all along. To check the road or whatever.”
“I think I hear a car,” he said, straightening up.
Sierra’s senses went on alert. If something bad was going to happen, it would be in the next few minutes. She glanced across at Kelly. “It’ll be fine,” she said to her. She also made sure the strap hadn’t caught up on the unfamiliar clothes, that it would slide off with a shrug and drop the rifle into her waiting hand.
The strange car made the turn. It had on running lights only.
Two doors opened at once, and Francie came out first. “The negotiating team is unarmed. You’ll see two rifles when the others get out. Don’t shoot us.”
Sierra said, “We only shoot at people who shoot at us.” This wasn’t strictly true, of course, as her father had pointed out the other evening. She’d shot at least two men who hadn’t aimed a weapon at her: the hardware store clerk, and the man who had taken Emily to her molester. For some reason, she flashed on their images right now, clear in her mind’s eye. At the same time, she was aware of every sound, every movement around her, of Curt’s slight tension and of his breath, slow and controlled.
Tad was there, holding a rifle. “How-do,” he said in greeting. “We’re ready.” He pointed to a man just exiting the car. “That’s Wes. He’s coming along to Payson if we go today.”
“As soon as we have a talk,” Wes said. “I’m interested in doing a little planning for the long-term before we act in the short-term.”
Francie made two more introductions. The negotiating team was her, a short woman named Lupe, and an older fellow, Pete. Wes and Tad were their snipers. Francie said, “Wes is our best shot.”
Tad said, “I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” Francie said. “Shall we go somewhere and sit?”
“The first house in this neighborhood is unlocked,” Sierra said.
“And empty?”
“So far as I know,” Sierra said. “Was for the past few weeks.”
“Let’s clear it then,” Wes said. “Curt? Want to come along?”
“Sierra can,” he said. “She’s had a look inside the place and knows the layout.”
Sierra appreciated the vote of confidence. Wes said, “You know standard military hand signals?”
“I don’t know them well,” she admitted. “I know what Arch has taught me.”
“Come on, then, and I’ll see if we can communicate.”
She left the protection of the tree and went with him up the road. He showed her the signals he wanted to use. They weren’t much different than what she knew. “Got it,” she said. She told him about the layout of the house.
He gave her a signal to take the right. She was almost entirely certain the house was empty. They approached the front door, and she realized she didn’t know if it was unlocked or not. He signaled her to go ahead. She stole up the front steps and tried the door. Unlocked, like the back door had been. Then she waited for him to move up, and she opened the door, staying right.
They moved through the house quickly, ending in the kitchen. It was silent and empty. “Lights should work, unless they unhooked their solar,” she said, and waited for him to find a wall switch. When the lights went on, she saw the place was dusty too. “No footprints,” she said, pointing to the floor. “I’ll get the others.”
“All right,” he said, and he started opening cabinets. She and Dev had already done that, but she left him to it and ran out to retrieve the others.
The negotiators took the seats at the table, and those with rifles stood, leaning against back door, counter, and refrigerator. Wes stood in the door to the living room, not leaning against anything. He said, “What I’d like to hear are your ideas for how we’re going to drive out the invaders of Payson.”
“One idea is sending snipers, a hit-and-run guerilla action,” Arch said.
“Right,” said Wes. “But in preparation for what? If all we do is kill two men and alert them that more trouble might be coming, put them on their guard more, what have we accomplished?”
Tad said, “I think we could do better than two men.”
Arch said, “Sierra, tell them about the guard routine.”
Sierra’s mind had caught on the idea “alert them that trouble is coming.” It stirred something in her memory, but whatever it was floated off. She made herself focus on this moment. “They seem to stick with teams of two or four. The day we were there, they drove around a section of town and collected food. Joan said they came to her house every fourth day, demanding all her harvest. The other three days’ food, whatever there was left, she was left to feed her family. From what Dev and I saw, and from what Joan said, we figure they have the town divided into four segments and go through one per day.”
“Logical, considering Payson’s layout,” said Wes. “Four of us, four o
f them at worst. We might get all four with no causalities. But then what’s going to happen after the first time? They’ll be on guard.”
“They could send men out to find the shooters,” Francie said. “I don’t want to lose anyone.”
Tad made a dismissive gesture. “We’ll be gone before they can get to us.”
Arch said, “They could retaliate in force.”
Wes said, “My thoughts exactly. So the question is, is one raid to kill only two or three worth it?”
Tad said, “Three out of thirty—if that’s what there are left—is a significant loss.”
“We don’t know exactly how many there are,” Kelly said. “Joan was guessing, and from what we know now, Arch and I think she was guessing too low.”
“I suspect there are over a hundred remaining. Also, there might be collaborators,” Arch said.
Sierra said to him, “I thought you were for this.”
“I am. But there’s no reason not to consider every possible ramification.”
Sierra turned to Wes. “Are you going to back out?”
“No, not at all. I’m just asking we give this more of a plan before running down the hill today and doing a thing we won’t be able to take back, if you see what I’m saying. For instance, if we do this, when do we attack? Do we do any recon first?”
“If we do it, I’d say today or tomorrow,” Arch said. “As soon as possible, so they don’t have a chance to organize a retaliatory strike themselves after losing so many from attacking us.”
“Are you ready for such a thing?” Wes said. “And how many can you bring to the fight?”
Arch exchanged a glance with Kelly. “I’d rather not say.”
“We’ll have to trust each other at some point. We know you can’t be many. We figure there are five houses at most on your road. Two adults per, plus you have two teenagers?”
“Who are both damned good fighters,” Arch said. “My son has years of hunting experience.”
“Still,” Wes said. “You’re twelve max. We have more than three times that, only counting adults. None of us will leave our homes entirely undefended. So of fifty of our combined forces, we’ll want to send half, I’m guessing, against at least that many of them. If you’re right about your guess, it could be against three times as many, four times as many.”
Kelly said, “We don’t have twelve.”
Sierra was surprised that she’d admit that. Arch didn’t look pleased about it either. Curt had his face turned away, so she couldn’t see his expression.
“Not twelve healthy. We’ve taken some hits.” Kelly made a wry face. “I’m walking wounded, tell you the truth, though I can still shoot if pressed.”
“How many healthy can go?”
Sierra knew the number. Counting Arch, six, and one of them was Joan. Seven with Rudy, but she’d learned the term “friendly fire” in her reading and thought she was as likely to be shot by him as one of the bad guys. Aloud she only said to Kelly, “You won’t be able to hold Dev back.”
“That’s my son. He seems to be improving,” Kelly said. “He wanted to come today, but I told him to hold the fort. Tomorrow he could go, if he doesn’t have a headache tonight.”
Francie said, “If we do attack, are we going to enlist the help of the locals?”
“They weren’t left much to defend themselves with,” Arch said. “In fact, I wonder if a few of the weapons we took off our attackers weren’t from Payson originally.”
“If so, we could take them back their guns,” Kelly said.
The discussion went on, but Sierra wasn’t listening. Her mind had caught on something, some resonance, something important, and the idea that had been trying to come to the front of her mind was getting more and more insistent it be heard.
The help of the locals. The invaders knowing they’d be coming. Something, something.
Suddenly she had it. “No,” she said, interrupting someone, not caring who. “I know what we should do.” She grinned. “Goddamn it. I know exactly what we should do!” She pushed off from the refrigerator. “This is going to work. I want to go home right now and get it started.”
“What idea?” Arch said, turning to her. “Why home?”
“To fire up the computer. And the printer.”
“What’s your idea, girl?” Tad said.
“You know I’ve been reading about guerilla war in your books, Arch. Communist stuff mostly, from the middle of last century. They hit quick, they set traps, they did lots of recon, and they did one other thing really well.”
“What’s that?” Francie said.
“Propaganda,” Sierra said. She was grinning. She knew this was going to work. “Propaganda, including one really useful type.”
“Quit beating around the bush,” said Arch, “and tell us your idea.”
“Disinformation,” she said. “We should attack, whenever we all agree to, and in force. But first we’ll warn the enemy that we’re coming. Let me explain.” And she did, and slowly, the people in the room, skeptical at first, started looking more and more interested.
Chapter 6
Two hours later, Sierra was riding in a car again. She had a stack of freshly printed flyers, a staple gun, and a roll of strapping tape in her lap. In Francie’s car were the same four who had volunteered to be snipers, two from each neighborhood—her, Curt, Wes, who was driving, and Tad.
It was mid-morning. She wished she had thought of this last night so they could have started the project in the dark, but it could work this way—if they were careful. That she had gotten everyone to agree to this so quickly was a surprise, but they’d all liked the idea, a lot.
Wes said, “So we need to find where they’re patrolling and get ahead of them, right?”
“That’s the plan we discussed,” Tad said. “Don’t belabor it.”
“No such thing in combat,” Wes said.
Curt said, “Do you have combat experience?”
“Basic training only,” Wes answered.
Sierra appreciated that he didn’t try to make it sound like more than it was. “I did my basic with the Quinns in a way.”
“Probably not as much yelling involved in yours,” Wes said.
“Ha. You haven’t seen Arch in a mood. His real calling in life was probably being a drill sergeant.”
Curt said, “You have a bit of that in you.”
Sierra stared at him in shock. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“No, a commissioned officer,” Wes said. “Coming up with the plan. That’s higher grade work than a drill sergeant.”
“So you’ll take orders from me?” She wasn’t being flip. She was curious. Would he?
Tad snorted. “You are full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“I’ve killed more than a dozen men so far,” she said. “And rescued a family from Payson. I’m still alive. I suppose it builds confidence, you know? Well of course. I’m sure you know,” she said. “You’ve had the same kinds of experience, right?”
There was silence in the car for the next five minutes. About halfway through the silence, Curt nudged her and winked at her. She looked up to see that Wes, who was driving, was watching them. She smiled at him, friendly. And she felt it. She liked him already. Tad, she wasn’t warming up to. But if he could shoot well, that’s all that mattered. They didn’t need to be best friends. They just needed to have each other’s backs.
Wes broke the silence by saying, “So, Sierra, where do you get this guerilla stuff?”
“Arch’s library. He has an extensive library of paper books. Army manuals, war theory, history, the history of weapons, you name it. When I knew enough to know what guerilla warfare was, I focused on that, because with our numbers and lack of support from tanks and planes and so on, it seemed like that’s what we were. Not guerillas trying to bring down a government, but guerillas trying to protect our own.”
“Probably what guerillas would all say they were doing too.”
“Good point.�
�
“Anything in particular give you this idea? About the flyers?”
“No. I didn’t read about any specific propaganda campaign or anything. I just knew they did it. And it’s kind of a Trojan Horse concept, you know? Not a literal horse, but that sort of thing. Misdirection, plus placing something dangerous in its effect right in their midst.”
“Huh. Well, I think it’s a good idea,” Wes said.
Tad said, “If we don’t get shot trying to do it.”
Curt said, “We’ll try to avoid that.”
Sierra directed Wes to where they’d parked their car before, but he said, “Not going to risk that. If they looked around and identified the spot, they might periodically come back there. I know a few places that will work just fine.”
He did, as it turned out. He drove them on a road that led to a subdivision on the outskirts of town and pulled off on a dirt track that she’d never have seen, with brush grown up so that the car was scraped as they pushed through. But the track opened up into a clearing big enough for him to K-turn and get the car aimed so it was headed back out.
He said, “If we get separated for any reason, we’ll meet right here at sunset. Clear?”
“Shit,” said Curt.
“What?” Sierra asked him.
“Those walkie-talkie plug-ins. We could have brought those and cell phones.”
“What is that?” Wes said.
Curt explained the device.
“See, you have more to trade than you realized,” Tad said.
“Not really ours to trade,” Sierra said. “It’s Rudy’s. He’s not technically one of us. I mean, he is and he isn’t. He’s new, like Joan,” she said.
“We’ve not added a soul,” Tad said. “We’re more cautious. Or maybe you’re too trusting.”
“So far, so good,” Curt said. “I suppose if you help people, they end up owing you some loyalty. Or so we can hope. Otherwise, there’s no reason to do any of this for Payson, is there?”
Wes reviewed the communications signals they were to use and, once he was sure they all knew them, said, “No more chatter. Let’s go in quiet in case they have patrols out here in the woods now.”
