Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

Thanks...

 

Where is he hiding that toad? I needs me a coin purse to cary all my ill gotten Zeds in ;-) Nothing quite like 'toad oil' to soften up rawhide…tried and true!

Need some dog food here…heah! Dried and rendered toad will do just fine. Maybe use some of dat bone to enrich da compost pile and feed de crops ;-)

 

George wasn't at the roadblock when we arrived. One of the guards ran to go get him. I looked over the defensive position and the area behind it carefully while the rest of the group talked with the Frenchie guards. They were alert and in good spirits, happily sporting the AR s that we had just given them.
They had every reason to be in good spirits. They hadn't had any serious run ins yet, what little they'd dealt with, went smoothly. And their allies have supplied them with good weapons and training. While there had been two attacks nearby, we'd dealt with it, not them. The attacks hadn't affected them. I hoped this wouldn't make them over confident and to downplay the threat.

“Zed! Good to see you!” George came up to me and we exchanged a two handed shake. “Come, let's go to Mrs. Bryan's home and talk. Have you had dinner?”

He looked at the rest of my crew and then at me. I nodded in answer to his unspoken question. “Come on! All of you. Let's eat!”

Mrs. Bryan's home was only a couple of hundred yards away, set up on a hill. I walked out on to the balcony. A few weeks ago it would have afforded a breathtaking view of the harbor down below, lit up by all the lights of town. Now it was mostly dark, a dim prick of light here and there denoting a cooking fire or a candle. I also noticed that it had sight lines on the road up from town, between the observation post and the road block. I thought of the possibilities then dismissed them.

George found me and informed me that the meal was ready. We all sat at a large mahogany dining table, set with good china. Mrs. Bryan, aided by a couple of younger women brought out an amazing wealth of food. She fussed over us until she was satisfied that we had all we could possibly want. Finished fussing, she stood until she had George's eye. He surveyed the table, nodded and she gracefully slipped out of the room, herding her helpers along in front of her.

In unspoken agreement, George and I let everyone eat in peace. The meal would have been remarkable under normal circumstances, given our present conditions it was amazing and probably the best meal any of us had had since any of this had started.
And it might very well be our last.

Sadie split a lobster with Denise and showed her surprise when she saw the drawn butter. “Is this fresh?”
“Yes. A couple of families have cows. We didn't have a churn, but a couple of the older women had used them as children. A carpenter knocked up a couple based on what they remembered of the design.”
Denise dipped a lobster laden fork into the butter, then directed it to her mouth. A blissful smile took over her face as a bit of the melted golden goodness ran from the corner of her mouth. She dabbed it with a napkin before it got too far. She sighed. “A month ago I took butter for granted. Didn't even think about it. It was always available, always inexpensive. A simple thing that's value has suddenly changed.”
There were nods around the table as people agreed, as they too, thought of how much life had changed in such a short time.

We settled in to do justice to the meal laid out in front of us. In addition to the fresh lobster, there were pork chops with a mango chutney sauce, pulled pork, rice and beans, spinach, and fresh baked bread. The meal was concluded in silence, everyone entertaining their own thoughts only partially distracted by the amazing meal. One by one we finished, signifying so by pushing plate or chair away.

George looked at me expectantly. I didn't keep him waiting. He of course knew about the two attacks at the OP down the road from his roadblock, and that our western OP had also been hit. We took turns filling him in on that battle. Finally, we paused and George asked, “So you expect a full attack then?”
I nodded and met his eye. “I do. While these were small attacks, they were coordinated, and the prisoner confirmed it.”

“And you think they are after you specifically? Or your group?”
“They haven't attacked your other roadblock have they? The eastern one?”
“No, we haven't had any trouble at all, really.” He sat a little straighter in his chair. “But if they are coming for you, they have to come past us. We won't let them by.”

I knew he meant what he said, at least the sentiment of it. But the Frenchies weren't in any position to back it up. No way they could handle an attack of the magnitude of what I was expecting.
“I appreciate that George. Your friendship is important to us.”
“You've helped us when you didn't have to. You've made us stronger and better able to handle problems.”
“Having strong friends on our side is good for us. And that's why I want you to let the gangbangers go by.”
“What? Why?”
“You've made good progress with training and getting armed up, but you aren't ready to deal with a hundred or more attackers.”
“And you are?”
“Actually, we are.” I spent a few minutes going over some of the things we've done, using broad strokes and not getting too specific.
“So you want us to sit back and do nothing?”
“No. I want you to pull back from your roadblock so as to not be interesting to the attackers. Stay close enough to defend the roadblock, don't let them through, but I don't think they'll be interested in you. They're coming for us.”
“And that's it?”
“No, I have something more in mind for you. Something critical. If you think you are up for it.” I explained what I had in mind. George nodded his head grimly as I laid out my plans for his people, becoming more and more interested as I went along and his peoples' part became known.
I finished up my explanation. “Questions?”
He had a couple minor ones that we quickly worked out.
“So you think this 'trading' that you are planning on will really work? Seems like a lot could go wrong.”
“Historically, it's been pretty successful. The timing is tricky, which is why I'm here and not at home. My people have been briefed on what to look for and how to respond. It's anything but a slam dunk, but it's a good plan, with room to be flexible so we can adapt to the enemy as we go along. So, you on board?”
“Absolutely! You know you can count on us.”
“Timing is important. Don't move too soon or you'll tip our hand.”
George nodded his understanding. “And I know you don't want us too wait too long either.” He smiled at his poor joke. We all returned it.
The meeting concluded we stood and stretched. We found Mrs. Bryan and gave her our thanks and repeated compliments. She blushed and smiled at the attention and praise, and then got serious. “May God go with you as you do his work.”

She hugged each one of us in turn, saving me for last. “Mr. Zed, you take good care now, you hear? We'll all be praying for you.”
I thanked her, gave her a hug and punctuated it with a kiss on cheek made rosy by honest work in the sun and kitchen.

We left George to brief his people on their part in the up coming battle. Back at Four Corners we set to work, by the light of headlamps, in constructing some new fighting positions. We made one set at the top of the road that lead down to the OP. The positions were short on comfort, but long on cover, using whatever we could find near by to provide ballistic protection.

The fighting positions provided supporting fire but needed to be evacuated in a particular order for the optimum protection. I explained it to everyone and had them repeat it back to me to reinforce it and plant it firmly in everyone's mind.

“What about the people down at the OP?” Virgil asked
“What about them?”
“They don't know about these positions and the whole thing about the order to leave them in.”
“And there's only enough for four or five people” Denise added.
“I guess you'll have to tell them.” I grinned at Virgil. Turning my attention to Denise I asked, “Why do you think there aren't enough positions for everyone?”
She frowned and shook her head, angry at herself for not thinking it through. “Because the rest of the people will pass by this area.”
“And?”
“And set up in another place to provide cover”
“Right. Now grab your gear and lets get to work on that next position.”

We went a couple of hundred yards back towards our neighborhood, until we were just before a curve in the road and went through the process again. Working at night was cooler, but we were still soaked with sweat by the time we were done.

George came out to where we were working, bringing with him a cake and fresh whipped cream. “Mrs. Bryan thought you might be ready for desert.”
“Are her deserts as good as her dinners?” Frank asked the question we all knew the answer to.
“No.” George surprised us with his answer. “They're better!”
We laughed and wiping our hands and brows on clothes or hankies we gathered around. Denise and Sadie took over doling out the delicious treat.

I filled George in on what we had done and the reason behind it in between mouthfuls of cake.
“And you've done this all the way back to your neighborhood? And they'll have cars, won't they? They'll move much faster than you can.”
“We haven't made fighting positions per se, but we've taken some steps including something to deal with cars.”
“It won't affect us, will it? He was thinking through his part in the upcoming battle. “Shouldn't. I don't expect it to.”
He nodded acceptance at this.

The crew had made short work of the cake. Between the hard work making them hungry and not often having treats like this, the desert hadn't stood a chance. Sadie scrubbed the pan clean with he handkerchief, although with Frank and Virgil fighting over the crumbs, there wasn't much left to clean.

Back at Four Corners we left George and headed down to the OP. Lyle greeted us as we arrived. He looked at my shirt suspiciously. I looked down and quickly brushed away the cake crumbs guiltily.
“Wha? You done be eatin' cake mehson? Meen een know what to say 'bout dat!” he punctuated the last by sucking his teeth in disdain.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Sorry man. I should have saved some for you.”
A broad smile covered his face at seeing my discomfort. He let me off the hook. “Nah man, it's cool. That wasn't the only cake Mrs. Bryan baked.”
“And you thought it would be fun to make me feel bad.” I put on a hurt look.
“No. Well, maybe a little bit.” We laughed, both knowing the joking for what it was, relief from the stress of worrying about what was coming.

I went over the plan with Lyle, and his peoples' part in it. He agreed and made some suggestions that made sense and were adopted. “Virgil!”
He jogged over to join us. “Yeah Zed?”
“Take Lyle and two of his people and bring them up to the positions at the top of the road. Show him what we've done and how we plan to use them.”
His shoulders sagged theatrically. “I had to open my mouth.”
“You brought up a valid point, and having brought it up, you should see it through.”
Lyle picked people to accompany him and Virgil led them off. We set about taking their positions and making ourselves acquainted with them. Lyle had been busy, not content to sit and guard, but improved the defenses.
About a hundred and fifty yards down the road, Lyle had placed a car sideways, blocking passage. I presumed it had belonged to one of the earlier groups of attackers. The tires had been flattened to make it harder to move it.

It could be used by the bad guys as cover, but it was a necessary evil to prevent vehicles barreling through the OP. Placed at a distance as it was, our superiority in marksmanship would negate much of the advantage of cover it might afford to them.

It was getting late and we needed rest. I gathered everyone for a final briefing. “Alright. Let's make sure everyone is tracking. What is our purpose here?”
“To slow the enemy's advance” I was glad to see that come from one of Lyle's people.
“How long do we stay here?”
The other person left from Lyle's team wasn't going to be shown up. “Only as long as it's safe. If it looks like we are going to be overwhelmed we leave. If the enemy looks like they are gathering for a rush, we leave.”

His partner cut in before I could ask the next question. “We leave in bounds, providing covering fire while someone moves.”“Cool. What are the whistle codes?”
“We're one blast, Frank and Denise are two, and you and Sadie are three.”
His partner finished, “If we hear our code we retreat to our next position. Once there one of us fires three quick shots to let everyone know we are in position.”
“Good. What does one long blast mean?”
“We stand.” I was startled by the chorus of everyone answering together.

It was a cold, uncomfortable night we spent at the OP. The pevious day's rain were added to by several passing showers during the night. Rain gear is all well and fine, but as good as it might be, you're still going to be damp. Either the rain gets in or you sweat can't get out, or some combination of the two.
In theory we ran fifty percent alert, switching every three hours, but in reality no one really slept. Knowing what the day most likely had in store, that concerned me. False dawn gave us the excuse to give up our futile attempts at rest. A couple of people got a brew on, huddled around the little homemade alcohol stove for the heat it put out as well as the hope of a warm cup of coffee.

Not being a java drinker, I dug into my pack for a can of Coke. I popped the top, the noise of the aluminum and escaping gas surprisingly loud. I took a glug of the barely cool liquid and grimaced. I was wishing for some ice when the radio came alive.

“Zebra, zebra, this is Lima, you copy” I didn't recognize the excited voice. I keyed the mike. “Lima, this is Zebra six, go.”
“Zebra, we just got a call from the western OP. They are under attack and taking heavy fire, over.”
“Are they requesting back up?” I thought, furiously clawing through the fog of my sleep deprived brain, trying to remember what Lavell had set up there.
“Negative Zebra. Just reporting. Over”

I swore under my breath. The topography kept me from talking to the western OP directly and it was frustrating to have to relay through Lyle's team at Four Corners. I brought the radio back to my mouth, but before I could key the mike, Lima came back. “They are taking heavy fire! Estimate twenty attackers! They keep trying to advance. So far the OP is keeping them back by the curve.”

The curve in the road was almost two hundred yards away from our firing positions. As long as they stayed that far out, our people were safe.
“Lima, tell them to be alert for any flankers.”

The radio was quiet for a few seconds while my advice was forwarded. The waiting for a reply was excruciating.
“They just made a big push! Enemy made a rush under covering fire! They got within twenty five yards before they were stopped! Over.”

Shit! Was that where Shocka was making his main attack? Should I send people to reinforce them? The Frenchies had some cars staged for us just for this eventuality. We could have people there in ten minutes.
Ten minutes was several lifetimes in a firefight.

I teetered on the edge of indecision. This wasn't Lavell's first rodeo. He hadn't asked for help.

“Zed!” This time the excited voice didn't issue from the radio.
The man next to me, one of Lyle's, was looking down the road. Car engines. More than one of them. A lot more.

The stove was hastily shut down, the coffee just another broken promise. We scrambled into our positions, rifles pointed down hill, cheeks on stocks, eyes behind sights, waiting for targets.

The noise grew along with our apprehension. And then they were here.

I don't know why, because it made perfect sense. Must have been the thirty some years of driving I had under my belt. Three cars abreast rounded the corner. They were moving slowly, under twenty because it was a tight fit.
It was a good thing they were going slowly because it caught us off guard and we were slow to respond.

While it seemed like a long time, it was under a second before Sadie kicked things off. We were on the left, or eastern side of the road, and so she engaged the the first car on our side. I had a glimpse of her shots impacting low on the driver's side windshield before I settled in on the same spot on the middle car.

What startled us, and might have seemed like a good tactic actually limited them. The cars were so close together that only the people on the outsides could stick their rifles out the windows and bring them to bear on us. The middle car was blocked entirely. It hadn't occurred to them to shoot out the front windshield.
Yet.
As I pumped round after round into the middle car, part of me took stock of the threat. There was another rank of three cars behind this one and yet another behind them. That's as far as I saw. The first rank of cars acceleratated out of the curve as they took our fire. Fire which was a few moments taking effect. Sadie's driver was hunkered down, eyes barely visible between the dash and the top of the steering wheel. She was having trouble snaking rounds in to get him.

Two guys were hanging part way out of the front and rear passenger side windows firing wildly in our general direction. The rounds passed us by a wide margin.

The cars came up to Lyle's roadblock together, and they pushed together. Tires went from screeching, to screaming, and finally to smoking. The blocking car slowly moved sideways, it's tires adding their complaints to the din.

Idiots. If only one of them pushed, the blocker would have pivoted neatly out of the way. A part of me was thankful for their stupidity, while the rest of me worked the sights and trigger. The blocking car was hiding the middle car's driver from me so I switched to lower hanging fruit.

I took a breath, let half out and completed the last pressure on the trigger just as the red dot settled on the mouth of the front passenger. I watched as his brains sprayed over his partner in the back. Easing the trigger out I caught the link and started rearward pressure again.

Before I could complete the pull the bad guy jerked, dropped his rifle on the road and slid back into the car. Sadie racked up another kill.

Frank and Virgil, on the other side of the road with Denise were servicing their car. Somebody did something right, I suspected Frank. The car slowed and drifted to it's left. The driver must have been tagged. As its' side became exposed, the three of them raked it furiously, pumping round after round after round into it.

I didn't see how anyone could survive, but the far side rear door opened and someone plopped onto the road. They didn't make it any farther. A few rounds fired under the car and he jerked a few times and then was still.

I became aware that a fourth rank of cars was coming around the curve. I did the math. Twelve cars at four gang bangers per car was forty eight. Six per car put us at seventy two. Which seemed about right, given what was happening at the western OP.
There could very well be another row of cars I couldn't see.

My bookkeeping was interupted by an unwelcome development. With the loss of the westernmost car, the car on our side was now starting to pivot the blocker out of the way. We renewed our fire into it. More and more of it came into view as it pushed the car out of the way.

I was aiming so low I was skipping rounds off the hood and through the remnants of the windshield. Two people in the rear seat finally saw the light and fired at us through the windshield. Steadying their rifles on the seat in front of them, their rounds were much better directed and for the first time, we had rounds impacting around us.

I concentrated on that spot on the hood and kept working it. The rifle recoiled against my shoulder, and again and then I felt the bolt stay back. Trigger finger hit the mag release, left hand grabbed a fresh mag, slammed it home, and continued up until the thumb hit the paddle sending the bolt forward.

The blocking car was just about far enough around to let my guy past. Time was running out. I put the dot on the tunnel I was digging in the cowling under the window. I started to see the dashboard come apart. Another shot, and another deliberate shot and the car stopped moving. It had succeeded in pivoting the blocker far enough around to get past, but then stopped, blocking the hole it created.

There was no more fire coming from that car, Sadie and Lyle's man must have taken care of them. The second and third ranks of cars, and finally the fourth, pulled up quickly as far as they could and started disgorging their passengers. They took up hasty positions anywhere they could find.

Within moments we were taking fire from fifty or sixty rifles. Between the distance and our cover, we were still OK, but that wouldn't last for long. I tagged my third gang member in twice as many seconds and reached for my whistle.
It was time to start trading. 231118

 

All right! Thanks Zen.

 

Well hail, when de killin is good…it be real good! (did I mention; great story?)

 

whew...

 

Great story, moar please

 

You can't leave us hanging in the middle of a battle...

 

The weight of fire against us was daunting. Thankfully most of it was ineffective. The instructor part of my brain noted the shooting styles of the gang bangers, even as I was returning their fire. There was the butt against the shoulder, head up, looking over the sights resulting in shots going way over our heads. I saw this repeated over and over.

One guy was doing a pretty good job of using a car for cover, except for ‘chicken winging’ his right arm. My round took him in the elbow, shattering it completely. He wasn’t dead, but he was certainly out of the fight. I wondered how their medical care was and if anyone would be detailed to tend to him.

Others, mindful of the accurate fire we were serving them, were only extending their guns past cover with the poor results you’d expect.

“Sprangggg!” a round impacted one of the boulders I was using for cover and it whined as it flew off on its new trajectory. I came back up, carefully, from my involuntary flinch but couldn’t see where the shot had come from. My red dot found someone who wasn’t shooting, but was directing others. While I had a shot, I made a conscious decision not to take it.
I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake.

As they settled down, more and more rounds were impacting around us. I was leaving this too late. Shoving the whistle in my mouth I took a deep breath and let out one loud blast, then resumed firing.
Our training held, and we were firing slowly and deliberately.

A gang banger stumbled out from behind cover holding the remnants of his shattered eye, ruined by the spalled rock of my near miss. Swinging onto another target I heard shots uphill from our position. On the whistle again with two blasts this time.

The rate of outgoing fire to our right slacked off as Frank, Virgil, and Denise leap frogged back up the hill. It was starting to feel mighty lonely all of a sudden. The attackers directed their fire at the retreating forms which brought instant attention from those of us providing cover. It must have worked because a few seconds later I heard their guns open up again from their new position.

Three blasts on the whistle and back behind the sight. I emptied what was left in my mag while Sadie and Lyle’s man took off running. On the familiar bolt back, but not forward again, I turned and ran, hunched over, willing myself to be a smaller target. The mag came off and got shoved down the top of my shirt before getting replaced.

The muzzle blasts were deafening as I neared my team mates’ positions, hoping they’d be careful and not put a round into me as I was close to their lanes of fire. Passing them I slid into my next place. I whistled again, this time for Frank’s team.

The gang bangers made several attempts to move forward, but they lost one or two men every time they tried. I saw the leader I’d identified earlier working to drive his men forward and I was glad I hadn’t shot him. I saw a couple of others doing similar work. I made note of their appearance for later but left them unmolested.

Frank’s team opened fire and I got on the whistle again. In no time it was our turn again. This time when we ran we passed around the curve, out of sight of the enemy. I stopped by Virgil and told him and Denise to move to the next spot.

Frank knew what I wanted and had stopped firing as soon as his team mates were out of sight around the corner. We held still, hoping to be hard to see. For a few moments not much happened. We could here commands and some arguing, and then five gang members left their cover and ran up the road.
Frank started on his side, me on mine, and we finished by both putting a round into the guy in the middle. They’d only made it about fifty yards before we finished cutting them down.
They tried to run too far.

The gang bangers were a bit more than two hundred yards out. Easy shots for Frank and I who ran forty meter zeros, confirmed them regularly, and knew how to run a trigger. The bad guy’s return fire was all over the place.

Movement caught our eye. A single runner this time. We both swung on him, even though it was on Frank’s side. I got caught up in my hunter’s genetics. That’s when the second guy took off running.
Frank popped his guy and I held my fire. Then I noticed the second runner. By the time I got my muzzle dragged back over there, he’d found cover.
From me.

Frank snuck a round in and put it through his right thigh. He flopped onto his back, in plain view, screaming for help. We let him. No one seemed inclined to come to his rescue.

We gave it a few more moments, topped off our rifles, and quietly left our spot.

At Four Corners we found Lyle’s team in place with Virgil. The road block was deserted. Lyle got the run down on what we’d done so far. His next job was a tricky one, part Judas goat, part traffic cop. I described the leaders that I’d seen and admonished him to not shoot them. He was perplexed at that until I explained why we needed them. Then I clapped him on the shoulder and started jogging westward towards our next

We moved into our next positions just before the next bend in the road. We could just see the intersection, but not Lyle, who was just below the lip of the hill. We wouldn’t be able to provide cover until they cleared the top of the hill and headed towards us.

We had a few minutes and we used them, refilling mag pouches with full magazines that we’d stashed here. Carrying more than six or eight mags is impractical; it makes it hard to move at speed, is uncomfortable, and tires you out. Loaded mags waited for us at several places along the way. It was up to us to not get pinned down in one place so long that we ran out of what we had on us.

Weapons taken care of, our bodies were next. Water washed parched from fear and exertion. I couldn’t even think about eating and looking around, it seemed no one else could either.

Here above the lip of the hill I could talk directly with the western HQ. It was currently quiet and Lavell filled me in. They’d been hit just moments before us, and it did indeed seem to be a diversion, or a move to split our forces and have us fighting on two fronts. Either way, I don’t think they were expecting the level of resistance that they’d met, or that we were set up so far out.

I tried to get a better picture of what Lavell was up against. They’d killed six and wounded a number more. They didn’t have a solid number because they’d been dragged off. Based on blood trails and our shooters’ memories Lavell figured another dozen wounded to one degree or another.

The attackers had retreated and were no longer in contact. Lavell sent a couple people forward as scouts. They’d gone about a quarter mile, as far as they were willing to go, and hadn’t found them. I suggested Lavell put in a request for the hexicopter to go further and see if it could find them.
I signed off the radio and moved to each of our positions to talk with everyone. A quick reminder of what we were doing, a few encouraging words, and questions about what they’d seen as far as enemy getting killed or wounded. I was trying to do my own assessment. I came up with approximately fifteen killed. Not a bad trade for a quarter of a mile of road that we didn’t even own.

If we could keep up that rate of exchange, we had more than enough territory to finish off the attackers entirely, as long as they kept attacking. Which is why I’d left the leaders alone, I needed someone to keep driving those gang bangers at us.

The wait was taking entirely too long. What was taking them so long to hit us again? Had they given up? Did they have something else in place that I hadn’t counted on? We had way too much time to sit and think. A chance to second guess myself.

Physically, we were starting to cramp up. People stood around their positions, walking in small circles or pacing to keep the circulation going and more importantly, to work off some of the nervous energy. I checked my watch and it was over a half hour since our last engagement. The only thing I could figure was that they were clearing the road block and getting their vehicles through and staged to move again. That was going to make things rather hot for Lyle.

Another fifteen minutes passed and I was seriously thinking that I had miscalculated and would need to readjust our plans, when a flurry of gunshots broke out. A few seconds later Lyle and his people came into view. Most of them ran headlong towards us. Lyle paused and fired a couple of bursts from his rifle, emptying it. He stood there waiting for something only he could see. Satisfied, he turned towards us, threw his rifle up over his head to land on his back held by it’s sling. That boy watched too many youtube videos.

When you watch most people run, it looks like they are hurting themselves. Which isn’t surprising, considering they’re mostly self taught. Not Lyle. He was born to run. And he did. We were behind our rifles waiting to cover his run. We watched as he grew larger, wondering if he’d make it. The last of his people had run past us to their positions and he was still twenty five yards away when the first cars showed up.
Two abreast this time. They were learning. We opened fire as soon as we had a shot, Trying to not let ourselves get distracted by our friend running toward us, down range of our muzzles.

Lyle made it past us and slid into a hole behind some rocks. We poured fire into the cars, trying to stop them. First one, then the other car came to a stop, still two hundred yards away. Several people exited the vehicles, some running to get behind them, other moving to the sides.

A third car came up between the two that were stopped. A few of the gang bangers ran to get behind it and use it as cover to get closer. Every single one of our ten rifles was concentrated on stopping the car. The good news was we weren’t taking much fire. The bad news was that they were getting closer by the second, with the fourth and fifth cars following the third into the gap formed by the first pair.

It worried me that they were holding off on shooting at us. It showed they were learning, adapting, and had the discipline to hold their fire. That’s what I get for leaving the leaders alive.

The third car made it through the gap and came on as we continued to dump rounds into it. I shifted fire to the next vehicle, hoping to plug the hole. Somebody beat me to it. I saw the windshield develop holes. I added to them.
And we got lucky. The car nosed into the car on it’s left and stopped. Passenger side doors opened as survivors tried to exit and find better cover.

The car in front was slowing, and the bangers who’d run along behind sprinted to the bush on the side of the road rather than being stuck in the open road with only a car for cover.

I had what I was looking for. It was time. Three loud blasts on the whistle and Sadie, myself and two of Lyle’s men left our cover and ran down the road. We only had to go a few short yards to make it around the bend and out of the line of fire.

I was breathless when I reached the place where I’d left the saw. I went through the starting procedure, pressing the bulb, and yanking the cord.
Nothing.
I kept yanking, still it wouldn’t start.
Gaa! The choke! I closed it and the saw started and died before I could move the choke. Another pull and it ran tentatively, still cold. I coaxed it with easy blips on the throttle and soon it was running smoothly. Moving to the forward-most tree that we had previously notched, it took less than thirty seconds before it started leaning. Pulling the bar out of the cut I took a couple of quick steps back out fo the way in case the trunk kicked.
Frank and I had done a good job on our preliminary cuts and the tree fell across the road, blocking almost all of it. A half a lane was still clear.

I moved to the second tree and waited. When they heard the saw, Frank and Lyle were supposed to break off and fall back. I waited for them impatiently. Sadie and the other two were already in their positions a couple of hundred yards down the road, near the next curve, following the pattern we’d established.

There! First one, then two, then a clot of people, our people were running toward me. I’d left the saw running, revving it occasionally, wanting to avoid a repeat of my failure to start it. I put the blade against the trunk as the first people past me. Frank and Lyle came into view, and I knew they’d be the last of our folks.
I started cutting, trying to get the timing right. I slowed some to give them the time they needed, and then as they neared, opened the throttle and finished the cut. There was a loud crack and the tree started falling quickly. Frank and Lyle made it through the gap with time to spare, but I was distracted, watching them and I didn’t step back quick enough.

I’d screwed up the hinge and the trunk kicked back, hitting the saw and knocking it out of my hands. It rolled along the ground, stalling out.
The tree finished falling, its top overlapping and entangling with the top of the other tree. We’d picked our spot carefully, a narrow place with a steep drop off on one side and an equally steep cliff rising on the other.
We’d set it up so that when we dropped them the tops of the trees were toward the enemy and the trunks were on our side.
We had our first abbatis.

 

Thanks for a great Sunday morning read.

 

Killing dem toads on a fine Sunday morning…now we be de sheets in this fight ;-)

BUT…a basic rule is to 'always' take out the leaders…ALWAYS! Because they be de smart ones that'll get back to their lines with information and for reinforcements…make that: "to bring up mor targets for de boyz and all!"

 

Thank you again Sir...

 

And THAT is why Zed left them alive...
Rules should be considered guidelines and not hard and fast law. Abide by them when it makes sense, disregard them when needed.

 

Now, I ask me selfs just what use dese toad leaders gonna be? Zed already knows what they can tell him…they are out to take over and Zed's in the way…hostages? Maybe but I doubt it…they already be looking so good in the "hole in the head choir" but maybe just their heads on a bunch of posts for now…maybe capture and mount them up on sharpened post…alive like old Valad used to do; sheet, all dese dang decisions and choices! (and such) ;-)

 

"Cannon fodder" or "heads" it don matters mush…dey gonna die! (and that poorly as well) ;-)

I keep expecting a 'foreign' warship to appear on the horizon…with maybe new problem(s) and all dat sheet and stuff!

 

That'll be book II or more likely III.
There will be a local power struggle in the next book to figure out who runs the island. That's next book.
Book III they will need to establish trade relations with other islands/countries. Piracy will be a problem.
And South America is going to get bold at some point. Colombia or Venezuela are only 500 miles away and might
send their navy out to see what's going on...

 

Kool! Where is the 'Belgrano' when she be needed by the heather of the South?

Let us know when you get this one into print and we'll buy copies. KG, Esq.

 

Picking up the saw, I ran down the road to the rest of my people. We set up all the way down the straight section, just before the next turn. This put us about two hundred and fifty yards from the far end of the abbattis.
“All right, gather round!” within seconds I had a semi circle of gunfighters in front of me. “First thing. Quickly set up your positions. As much as possible, stay out of sight. I’d prefer that they don’t know we’re here. Do not shoot until I fire. Understood?”
I got serious nods all around.
“It won’t take them long to clear a way through the cars, so they’ll be here soon. Go!” They scattered in several directions and started work on cover and concealment. I went to my spot and for the first time, looked the saw over.
My heart dropped into my stomach. The bar was bent. I might be able to straighten it, but not here, not now.
Shit.
I was getting wound up. I rolled my shoulders, stretched my arms and slowed and deepened my breathing. I made some final additions to my fighting position, checked my rifle and sat back to wait.

Having a moment, I got on the radio. Things were still quiet at the western OP. Lavell had gotten word back from HQ on the hexicopter scouting mission. The group that attacked them had pulled back about half a mile and were just sitting there. There were four vehicles, all SUVs, and thirty two people. Half a dozen were wounded, but receiving no care. Some just lay in road bleeding, others sat rocking back and forth in pain. The rest were sitting or laying around relaxing.
I still couldn’t talk to HQ directly; there was too much topography in the way. I asked Lavell to relay a message for me.
I heard engines, so I signed off and looked around to make sure everyone was hidden. They were. Two cars came into view, one behind the other, staggered in echelon. I had to give it to them, they were able to adapt quickly, learning as they went.
They stopped when they saw the trees. They paused, pondering, then the front passenger of the front car waved the other car back. They both reversed beyond the corner.
They were getting more cautious. I had a feeling that if they didn’t have someone driving them forward, they would have been happy to just call it a day and go home.
I smiled grimly to myself. That just wouldn’t do. We were going to settle this.
Today.
After a few minutes the enemy was back. Just one car, and they only came far enough around the corner to see down the straight. As they sat there, I willed my people to stay still. Nothing attracts attention like motion.
The car reversed out of sight. My mouth was dry, my tongue sticky. I had just enough time for a glug of warm water before they came again.
This time they were back in the three abreast formation. Only one row, but there were ten dismounted gang bangers crouched over following the cars. The vehicles pulled right up to the trees and the occupants got out and stood guard. They looked around nervously, particularly in our direction. Then men in back all had machetes. They cautiously left the cover of the cars and came to the top of the trees.
I’d cut the trees to fall at an angle, with their tops overlapping. It was a tight tangle of small branches reaching twenty feet high. The machete men waded in and started hacking. It was every man for himself, each person working in his own area. If they had some direction their work would have been more efficient.
After ten minutes their arms were tired and they were soaked in sweat. Yesterday’s rain was gone leaving a clear blue sky with the sun beating down on them unimpeded. It didn’t look like they had any water with them.
One by one they made their way to the shady side of the road and collapsed, sprawled out in the open, not a care in the world. We could have taken all of them out before they made it back around the corner to safety, but it wasn’t time yet.
I wanted more.
A couple of minutes after the commencement of break time, a lone figure came into view from around the corner. The lack of chopping noises must have tipped him off. He looked at the trees, and the lounging men and strode to the latter with purpose.
Nearing the first machetero, bossman pulled a pistol from his waistband and hit the hapless worker on the side of the head with it. He went sprawling and the boss, (I supposed a ‘sargeant’ in their organization) moved toward the next man in line, drawing his hand back for another blow. The intended victim drew back, protecting his head with his arms.
It was interesting to see the dynamic, the inner workings of our enemy. I made mental notes as I watched.
A spokesman further down the line stood and stated his case with imploring gestures. Sarge threatened another blow, but relented and listened to what the man had to say. He paused to consider, then with broad, imperious gestures, sent one of the men away.
It was an entertaining drama and I only lacked popcorn and a half gallon of sugary drink to make my entertainment complete.
The envoy soon returned with another dozen or so men. This was more like it! They started chopping again, much in the same way as before.
Sarge watched for a minute and started yelling and gesturing. He finally got his point across and things became more organized. They concentrated on one area, some people were designated choppers, and others pulled the cut branches free of the tangle and sent them over the side of the cliff.
Things were going to start moving soon here.
I paid more attention now, trying to judge my moment. The question was how far should I let them go?

I decided that I’d let visibility be my metric. We were all shooting small, fast bullets. Small, fast bullets that would be easily deflected or damaged if they hit branches. Right now they were all surrounded by small branches. I’d give them a chance to clear things up so we could get a shot.

Early on, the men in the cars hadn’t done any work, instead standing around with their rifles as security. The arrival of Sarge changed that. They weren’t happy about it, but he put them to work along with the others. None of them had slings on their rifles, so they had to set them down. As they cut their way into the trees they got progressively further from them. That didn’t make me mad.

As they continued to work, various visitors came out from behind the curve, curious to check on the progress. They’d watch for a little while, leave and come back with more men to work hauling branches. As choppers, who had the hardest job, got tired, they’d hand their machetes off to someone else to cut for a while.

There were fully fifty men working now. All the small branches were gone and they were working on the stuff that was three or four inches in diameter. It was getting to be time. Besides, I was getting tired, watching them do all that work.

 

O'h, my poor tired sorry old arse…and no popcorn with a sugary drink…dang, how inconvenient…but de killin be coming and the hole in the head choir gonna sing! ;-)