Sean looked at the twelve faces surrounding him at his barricade and smiled grimly. “This isn’t my decision, but this group here is going to have to make the call because we don’t have time to survey everyone. What do you say? Those in favor of surrendering our resources to these bandits, say ‘aye’.”
Ty looked around, saw a lot of nervousness, but no one spoke.
“Those in favor of defending what is ours, say ‘aye’.”
Ty was joined by most of the others in a vote to defend. A couple of folks abstained from voting, but it didn’t matter, the decision had been made.
Sean took a deep breath. “All right then. We need to get into position. If you’re not ready to shoot, get on it quick. Make sure your magazines are full, on your person, and ready to go. Find a position you are comfortable firing from, then wait for my instructions. Any questions?” No one said a word. “Alright. I’m going to give some directions to the folks in the house and on the other side of the road, then answer the letter. I’ll be back in a few,” Sean advised as he hurried off to the militia house.
Ty watched from his position on the barricade as the invaders stood in small groups and calmly waited for a response. Five minutes later, Sean returned and climbed on top of the highest position on the barricade. Taking the letter in his hands, he raised it above his head and tore it into pieces, then tossed the pieces into the breeze.
Ty quickly turned and watched the men across the river, who, seeing the response, were assembling themselves before the last scraps of paper fluttered to the ground. They huddled for a moment then broke apart, most heading for the dump truck. Ty counted four men climbing into the bed of the truck, while another man got in the cab and started it up. The engine rumbled ominously as it roared to life, and thick, black smoke billowed from the exhaust stacks.
The dump truck pulled forward a few feet, then stopped and began backing up, turning so the rear of the vehicle faced away from the bridge. At over a thousand yards away, Ty watched as the truck stopped, and metal plates were handed from out of the back of the truck to the men waiting on the ground. The men secured the plates to the sides of the truck, providing protection from bullets for the tires and engine. Near the back, pins were pulled, and hinged metal plates used to protect the rear tires were swung down.
Anderson West, positioned close to Ty, let out a low whistle. “Doesn’t look like this is their first rodeo, does it?”
“No, no it doesn’t,” Ty replied, feeling a lump growing in his throat. “But they haven’t dealt with us before, have they?” He heard footsteps and saw Sean running back to his position from the other bunker.
“Look at the bus!” Anderson said, pointing. “I don’t like the looks of this.”
Two men were dragging someone off the bus who had their hands secured behind their back and was fighting back against his captors. It appeared to be a teenage boy, but Ty couldn’t tell for sure. The men pulled the boy out into the middle of the road where everyone at the barricades could see them. “This is bad…” Ty began, but before he could finish his thought, one of the men pulled out a handgun and shot the boy in the back of the head, then let the lifeless body slump to the ground.
Gasps ran up and down the barricade as Sean attempted to reassure the men. “Okay folks, now we know who we are dealing with. That was meant as a warning, but let it harden our resolve. These people are evil.” Sean picked up his rifle and leaned against the thick tree trunk that lay along the top of the berm. “We can take them, but it’s going to be a fight. Wait to shoot until I tell you to.” He looked through the scope on his rifle and fired a shot.
One of the men who had just executed the boy went down, clutching his upper thigh. The others scattered.
“You want us to fire?” someone called out.
“Not yet. Save your ammo. I’m dialed in good on the long shots. There’ll be plenty of shooting to do in a few minutes.”
Sean took aim and fired another shot but didn’t hit anyone. The dump truck pulled behind the bus, and the wounded man was dragged behind the vehicle.
“Alright,” Sean yelled. “I need a volunteer. Gonna be dangerous, but important.”
“I’ll do it,” Ty said, his voice shaking. “What do you need?”
Sean handed a small, heavy satchel to Ty and spoke rapidly. “There are four grenades in there. I need you to get under the bridge, quick as you can. Hide there and wait for the dump truck to get to this side of the river. When it does, carefully pull the pin and toss the grenade in the back of the truck. The bridge is forcing them to stay together, so most of their team will be in there. If you can get it in there, this will be over.”
“That’s it?”
Sean nodded. “Yeah, but once they see you and realize what you’re trying to do, you need to be ready for a lot of lead flying your direction.”
Just as he was about to leave for the bridge, Ty felt someone pull on his jacket. Turning, he saw Luther Espinoza kneeling beside him, also listening to Sean’s instructions. “Give me the bag. I’ll do it.” Luther’s left arm was still in a sling, damaged from the first firefight the community had had. “I can’t use a gun very well, but you can, and you’re a good shot. You’ll be more help on this side of the berm than I will.”
Ty paused, conflicted about what he should do.
“Hurry,” Luther said, reaching for the bag. “I need to get there before they see me.”
Sean nodded. Luther pulled the bag from Ty’s hands and crept to the end of the berm. “How many of these babies do I have again?” he asked.
“Four, but only use what you need to,” Sean answered.
“Pull the pin and toss, right?”
“Affirmative,” Sean said, then scrambled to the top of the barricade to watch what was happening across the river.
Luther ran across the road to the other berm, ran the length of it, then ducked through some bushes to conceal himself as he scurried towards the bridge, his fifty year old body not as agile and quick as it once was.
Luther had just scrambled under the bridge when they heard the truck’s engine rev and saw it emerge from behind the bus, its wheels now well protected on all sides by the steel plates. The truck maneuvered in the road until it was positioned to come across the bridge backwards, then, with gears grinding, it lurched and began to slowly move towards them.
Sean directed the men, spreading them out to present smaller targets. He shouted loud enough to be heard by the groups hidden behind both berms, “Keep your heads down. They’re going to try and get past us shielded in the bed of the truck. If Luther doesn’t drop a grenade in on them, we need to take out the driver. Shoot at whatever you can, but it’ll likely just be headshots. They won’t expose much more than that. Watch your fire if they dismount, and make sure you’re not shooting at someone on our team. Remember the drills. No more than three shots in a burst, and make them count!”
Ty’s hand’s shook as the truck approached loudly. He said a silent prayer and thought about his wife and what she’d do if he didn’t come home, and whether she’d hold up if another member of their family were lost.
“You doing okay, Lewis?”
Ty looked to his right, where Anderson was still crouched. “I’m a little nervous, to be honest.”
“You’re braver than I am. I feel like I’m going to wet myself.”
Ty nodded. “Alright, I admit it. I’m so scared I can hardly breathe. I’m trained to be a school teacher, not a soldier.”
Anderson nodded. “Well I’m a builder and a lot more comfortable shooting nails than people.”
“I tell you what,” Ty replied. “There were a few things about teaching that drove me nuts, but I’d take a lifetime of those headaches over one day of this.”
Anderson kept his aim on the approaching truck. “I feel the same way. I’d much rather be facing a building inspector than getting shot at. If I ever get to building again, I’ll plant a sloppy wet kiss on the first inspector to walk on the jobsite.”