“They’re not pursuing!” Lewis called, ducking down beside the two of them with the rest of the group. Nobody seemed hurt, to Matt’s immense relief. Lewis felt beneath Matt’s body armor, checking to see if any bullets had penetrated its protection as he continued. “But we should probably get out of here before they decide to. Can you walk, Matt?”
Matt rubbed at the sharp pain in his chest, struggling to regain his breath. Those fools thought that because Aspen Hill was a peaceful, civilized town, that made them weak. They’d already proven they had no respect for life.
“I can,” he said through gritted teeth. He lifted his hands for help getting up, but one shoulder became a blaze of agony at the movement. Lewis saw and left it to Rick to grab Matt’s other hand and help him up one-handed, as he supported his side well away from where he’d been shot.
“Should I keep returning fire?” Gutierrez’s voice crackled through his headset.
Matt freed his good hand long enough to toggle his mic. “Negative. Rejoin us as we withdraw.”
The former soldier sounded pissed, and for good reason. “The three of us have good cover. We could probably take out half the camp while they run around like chickens with their heads cut off. We’ve already taken out four of the guys with guns, although their buddies were quick to pick up the weapons and shoot back.”
“Rejoin us,” Matt repeated firmly. “Let’s keep our heads.”
There was a long pause. “Copy that,” Gutierrez finally said.
The former soldier and the two defenders with him met them half a mile south of camp. Matt had paused to drop onto a log, wincing as Lewis and Lucas pulled off his vest and checked him over more thoroughly. There was a minor puncture wound where the bullet had pushed the vest material into his skin, and an ugly bruise was already spreading over his chest. But it wasn’t serious, and Matt was sure he could make it back to Aspen Hill without too much effort so Terry could look him over.
Gutierrez crouched down beside him. The man was breathing hard, face tight with pent up rage. Matt realized he hadn’t seen his friend since Gutierrez had seen the bodies of his close friend Brandon and the other members of the patrol. It was obvious the former soldier was taking it hard, and the camp’s attack on Matt and the others certainly hadn’t improved his mental state.
“I’ll live,” Matt said, trying to smile. “Thanks for covering me.”
His friend didn’t seem to hear him. “I volunteer to lead an attack on the camp,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Tonight.”
“I’ve got reservations about being hasty here,” Lewis said.
“They murdered four people and shot at our Mayor!” Gutierrez snapped. “They shot at you! At your dad! We need to bring them to justice.”
Lewis had to be as angry as the rest of them, but he kept his head. “How? Even if they deserve it, which I’m not necessarily arguing they don’t, if we massacre the entire camp Rogers will label it an atrocity. He’ll use it as an excuse to call in the military to occupy the town and toss us all in chains. And that’s if we aren’t just lined up and shot.”
Lucas nodded. “Chauncey will have sent word of the attack on the patrol over the radio by now. I think we need to give the military at least a little time to respond to this before we act, just so we’re not accused of jumping the gun.”
“Give me some credit,” the former soldier said. “We’ve got enough people and weapons to arrest the whole camp and take down anyone who resists.”
“At night, like you suggested?” Lewis shot back. “We don’t have time to do anything before sundown, and there’s no way you’re making mass arrests in the dark.”
Gutierrez hesitated. “Okay, I might’ve been thinking more of going in guns blazing,” he admitted. “But I can manage a more restrained approach too.” He turned to Matt. “However we do it, we should do it soon. They’ve already proven they’ll murder innocents without a second thought. If we wait they might take other lives we could’ve saved. Maybe Aspen Hill lives.”
“Rogers will accuse us of taking the law into our own hands no matter how we do it,” Lewis warned. “He’ll probably get on our case just for the shootout we just had.”
For a moment Matt hesitated, looking around the group. He agreed with both sides of the argument. Their friends had been brutally murdered, they’d just been shot at, and their Mayor had almost been killed while extending the olive branch.
But again, there was a right way and a wrong way to do things.
“Middle ground,” he said. “I’ll return home with Lucas and we’ll gather enough defenders to surround the camp and force them to surrender. We’ll plan for the attack tomorrow morning, rest and prepare and try to get back here well before dawn so we can go then. Raul, post everyone else here as teams of sentries around the camp for the night to keep anyone from leaving until we get back. You’re right, we can’t risk letting them go out and attack more innocents.”
“Works for me,” Lucas said. “If we can’t get a response from the military overnight they have no one to blame but themselves for ignoring us.”
Gutierrez seemed satisfied with the decision, too. “We can probably contain them, as long as they don’t try leaving all at once. If you bring back a hundred or so defenders it should be enough to intimidate them into giving up.”
“All right then.” Matt nodded to Lucas. “Give me a hand up.”
While the former soldier gathered everyone around to plan how they’d watch the camp, Matt started back for home with Lucas close by ready to support him in case he needed it. Even with time to organize the defenders and rest up a bit before dawn, he had a feeling it was going to be a sleepless night for him and good chunk of his people.
And Sam was going to kill him when she found out he’d been shot.
They’d killed Brandon. They’d killed him. In cold blood, in a cowardly ambush, and mutilated his corpse. Him, and Greg, and Frank, and Olly, and they’d tried to take Deb alive to do unspeakable things to her. Raul couldn’t just forget that, because he’d set up that patrol himself and asked each person in it to go out there. He’d promised Trev that Deb would be safe, had leaned on Brandon to make sure his friend would look out for her.
And they’d killed him. In cold blood. Him and the others. And they’d tried to take Deb.
Raul ignored the cold. The damp of thick dew gathering on everything, including him, as the night progressed. The growing pressure in his bowels. Hunger. Thirst. Weariness. His eyes barely blinked as he watched the camp below, where almost a hundred of the bandits slept.
His friends in Aspen Hill understood desperation. No one could live in the world the way it was now without feeling that crushing emotion as a constant companion. They’d watched friends and loved ones die. They’d endured sickness, starvation, cold, and the terror of faceless men who wanted to kill them and take everything they had.
But there was a difference between understanding desperation, and understanding just how deep desperation could go. Even when things were at their worst, few of his friends had ever faced their troubles alone. Not only alone, but with the knowledge that there was no one out there who cared about them, who depended on them, who hoped and prayed for their safety and a swift return to loving arms.
Raul understood. He’d watched as the only thing he’d had left, his duty to his country, had been stripped from him by a constant string of choices with no-win outcomes forced on him by Riley Ferris. His discipline as a soldier, neat grooming, well tended gear, straight back, clear conscience, had all been eroded away. He’d seen it happen, trapped, too cowardly to even protest, as his FETF relief squad had gradually devolved into bandits and raiders, preying on the very people they’d sworn to protect.