Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (251 page)

A drip of sweat rolled off the tip of Jimmy’s nose as he gave a nervous nod. Alex clicked his radio on. “The caravan heading our way is eight vehicles strong, so the plan stays as is. The third truck that comes in will be our road block. Mick and Connor, once that grenade goes off, you need to lay down as much fire as you can.”

“Copy that, Alex,” Mick said.

Jean and Frank fidgeted awkwardly in their sentry uniforms at the housing entrance. It was odd to see them dressed in the uniforms they had loathed for so long. And, once again, Alex found himself playing the part of operative, cloaked under a shroud of deceit but free of the hesitation and regret that plagued him before.

Regardless, the nerves of war were still present. Alex noticed the whiteness of his own knuckles and eased his grip. A stiff wind blew the smoke barreling from the truck’s engine into Alex’s face, briefly blinding and choking him until it changed direction. When the smoke finally cleared, the first truck came to a stop at the front gate.

Per protocol, the Class 2 rode in the first truck. The trucks, along with the faces inside, were covered in dust and blood. The sentries had already seen action, which meant they were probably low on ammo. The Class 2 nodded to the disabled vehicle at the entrance. “You guys know what happened to it?”

Images from the night before flashed in Alex’s mind. The sentries’ dead bodies, covered in blood. That distinct smell of sweat and copper wasn’t something he was ever going to be able to get rid of.

“Hey,” the Class 2 said, “you all right?”

Alex snapped out of his stupor. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Alex motioned over to the sentry housing where Frank, Jean, and Jimmy stood sheepishly by the door. “Our vehicle hangar’s full right now, but you can have your men park just along Main Street.”

The Class 2 nodded and unknowingly pulled into the death trap waiting for him. The trucks were lined ten feet apart, and Alex pulled off one of the grenades from his belt and concealed it in his fist as the second truck rolled through. Alex drummed his fingers nervously on the side of the grenade. Eight feet. He could see the eyes of the sentry driving the third truck lock on him. Five feet. The driver squinted at him, a look of realization on his face as Alex realized he’d seen that sentry before. Three feet. The driver slowed down still a few feet away, but before he could stop completely, Alex released his grip on the grenade, triggering the firing mechanism, and tossed it under the belly of the vehicle and sprinted to the cover of the housing station.

The heat from the explosion cooked Alex’s back as the undercarriage of the truck erupted, sending shrapnel into the arteries of every sentry’s legs inside. The truck’s axles collapsed and disabled the vehicle, blocking the rest of the entrance and leaving the injured sentries inside to bleed out in the smoldering wreckage.

The first two trucks that had already entered slammed on the brakes, and the sentries inside poured out of the trucks to look at the mangled steel behind them. On cue, Mick and Connor opened fire.

Alex, Jean, Frank, and Jimmy concentrated fire on the second truck, which managed to accelerate quickly enough to evade Mick and Connor’s line of fire and sped across the street by the factory. Alex pressed his hand to his left ear, attempting to drown out the gunfire that thundered around him, and used his right hand to link up his radio. “Harper! The second truck is using the factory as cover! Have Chris smoke them out!”

“What?” Harper radioed. “Alex, I can’t hear you. What’s happening over there?”

The AR-15s ejected their hot shells in rhythm with the thump, thump, thump of gunshots. The gunfire next to Alex, combined with the shots echoing over the radio, blended together in orchestrated chaos. Before Alex could repeat himself, the window next to where he was crouched shattered, and Jimmy was propelled backward.

Jimmy gulped massive breaths of air. The round hit him right in the chest, but the Kevlar made sure a bruised sternum was the worst of the injury. Alex dragged him to the back, away from the gunfire.

“Alex!” Frank said, struggling to replace a new magazine into his rifle. “It’s stuck!”

Alex ducked low and crawled along the side wall, back to the front of the building. The sentries were starting to gain some momentum in their return fire, and they redecorated the inside of the sentry housing station with bullet holes.

Continual static kept rushing into Alex’s ear. He repeatedly pressed the receiver on his radio, screaming the same message over and over. “Harper! Can you hear me? Harper!”

The answer was piercing screams, and after reloading Frank’s rifle, Harper’s voice finally came through, “The sentries are circling around back!”

“How many trucks?” Alex asked.

“Three!”

Glass, shell casings, and dirt scraped against Alex’s arms and legs as he slid on his belly to the open door and peeked around the edge to get a good look at the situation outside. The sentries had regrouped by the factory’s entrance, positioning themselves in a stronghold of defense. Once the three trucks flanked Mick and Connor from the rear, they’d be overrun.

“Frank! Jean!” Alex yelled. “I’m going to back up Mick and Connor. I need you two to cover me.”

Alex crouched low at the door, poised to sprint to the well the moment Jean and Frank opened fire. “Mick, Connor, I’m coming to you!” Alex held up his hand and counted down from five. The moment he hit one, Frank and Jean blanketed Main Street with every single bullet that remained in their magazines.

Sprays of gray ash kicked up behind Alex with each step forward as he dashed down Main Street, bullets whizzing behind him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, blocking any type of pain from his senses. He couldn’t feel the impact of his feet on the ground, or the heavy Kevlar around his body, or the rifle on his back. The only feeling was the deep thump in his chest, pumping every bit of life and energy he had left into getting to that well.

Alex dove in one final leap, crashing into the dirt next to Mick and Connor. The crack and thunder of their rifles boomed in Alex’s ear. He wedged himself right next to Connor. The well was barely wide enough for the three of them.

“I need one of your rifles, now!” Alex said. Connor exchanged his sniper rifle with the AR-15 that Alex carried. The powerful fifty-caliber rifle was the only thing they had that could pierce the sentry’s truck armor. “Where’s the ammo?”

“Left pants pocket!” Connor screamed, his face vibrating from the rifle’s recoil.

Alex clutched the ammo to his chest, which rose and fell heavily as he caught his breath. He smacked both Connor and Mick to grab their attention over the thunderstorm of gunshots. “If I can’t keep the trucks from flanking us, then you grab everyone and head for the forest.”

Alex closed his eyes, took a few quick, short breaths then sprinted to the end of Main Street, lugging the fifty-caliber rifle with him, where the advancing sentries would have to come through to flank them. A wave of gray ash flew into the air as Alex crashed to the ground, landing knee first. He immediately scoured the hills, looking for the enemy. He clicked his radio on. “Harper, anyone wounded on your end?”

“Iris got hit in the arm, but she’s alive. They have us pinned in the back of the factory.”

“Do not let them get past you, Harper, you hear me? I don’t care what you have to do. Jean, Frank, see if you can push your way to the factory for reinforcement. Mick and Connor, you two provide cover for Jean and Frank on their run.”

A series of “copy that” flooded Alex’s ear. He loaded the massive shells of ammo into the rifle and wriggled his belly on the gray ash, positioning himself for the hell heading his way. The first two trucks popped over the hill and into his crosshairs, but he couldn’t locate the third vehicle. The truck to the left bounced and shifted from the sentry’s sporadic driving and hilly terrain.

The recoil from the rifle sent a shock wave that rippled from his shoulder all the way down to his spine. The first shot went wide right. Alex cursed under his breath as the shell ejected and another bullet entered the chamber. The lack of food and continued fatigue triggered unwanted spasms in the muscles along his right shoulder and arm. A slight tremor hit his trigger finger as he realigned his shot. His whole body felt like it was falling apart.

Another shot recoiled the force of the rifle into Alex’s shoulder, causing him to wince from the pain that hit him. This time, the bullet penetrated the front windshield, killing the driver instantly and careening the sentry’s truck out of control. When Alex lined up another shot to the second truck, machine gun fire erupted behind him, and the radio waves echoed the same repetitive screams. “Alex!”

The two armored trucks that blocked the front gate were immediately rammed and shoved out of the way by the third armored truck that was supposed to be flanking them from the rear.

“Mick! Connor! Concentrate fire on that truck, now!” Alex radioed.

The second sentry truck grew closer. The ground around Alex erupted in sprays of gray ash. The sentries’ aim was getting better. Alex reloaded. The front bumper of the truck bounced into view then quickly disappeared from the scope. Another cluster of bullets hit the ground next to him, this time close enough for the dirt they kicked up to splash on the back of Alex’s leg.

Each time a different piece of the truck would come into view he squeezed the trigger, sending the massive rounds into the hood, grill, door, and front windshield, but failing to stop the speeding freight train heading right for him. No more time. Alex lifted the rifle and sprinted to the closest building on Main Street for cover, with bullets vibrating the air around his ears.

The moment his legs disappeared into the meal station’s entrance, six bullet holes decorated the doorframe, splintering the worn pieces of wood.

“Mick, Connor, you’re about to have company,” Alex said, trying to reposition himself at the meal station’s window.

“No shit!” Mick answered.

Alex shoved the barrel of the rifle through the window, shattering and scraping the glass aside from the panels and exposed himself to the chaos outside. Mick and Connor managed to seek cover on the far side of the well as the truck joined its comrades in corralling the wagons by the factory’s entrance, creating a barrier of armor.

With the amount of time the sentries had after the first grenade explosion, Alex knew they would have radioed for assistance by now, and it wouldn’t be long until reinforcements arrived. Once that happened, the community would be overrun with sentries.

“Jean, Frank, you guys fall back to the sentry housing. Mick, Connor, meet me over in the meal station. I’ll lay down cover fire for your run,” Alex said.

Each boom from the powerful rifle rattled the entire front wall of the building, sending shards of glass hanging from the edges of the window panels crashing to the ground. When Mick and Connor finally made it inside, they performed a weapons check.

“How many magazines do you have left?” Alex asked.

“Two,” Mick answered.

“Three,” Connor replied.

“Harper, what’s your position?”

All of their radios were linked to the same frequency, exposing everyone to the screams and gunshots each of them experienced firsthand.

“We’re pinned down in the back!” Harper answered, cutting his voice off with a few quick gunshots. “More of them showed up. I don’t know how much longer we’re going to last over here!”

“Just dig in for a little longer,” Alex replied.

The looks on Mick and Connor’s faces mirrored what Alex already knew. If they didn’t make a move, then Harper and the rest of them in the factory wouldn’t last the next three minutes.

Mick tossed Alex one of the AR-15s, and Connor stuffed his belt with his remaining magazines. The sniper rifle was too big to shoot while carrying, and Alex knew he couldn’t afford leaving anyone behind to operate it. With the numbers now even on both sides, the first group to make an advance would have the upper hand. “Frank, Jean, how’s Jimmy?”

“He’s a little wobbly, but other than that he’s fine,” Frank answered.

“Well, tell him to shake it off and give him a rifle. We’re going to get Harper out.”

The brief silence that followed was filled with all the flashes of a man who had accepted that his life was drawing near. Finally, Jean spoke up. “What’s the plan?”

“There should still be some grenades in the back of the sentry house where we found the rifles,” Alex answered. “Grab as many as you can. Make it quick.”

Throughout the entire fight, Alex could feel his shoulder burning. What started as a minor discomfort had transformed into a debilitating stressor. The fires that disfigured his flesh years ago had left a mark on him that he’d never been able to shake off. It didn’t matter what he tried to do or who he helped, the fire that lingered on his shoulder always asked for more. And now, it was calling for one final price. It was calling for his blood. All he had to do was answer the door, and it would be over. This was it.

The radio in Alex’s ear crackled, and Jean’s voice broke through. “Alex! I’ve got them!”

“All right. You guys are close enough to get the grenades within a few feet of the trucks. I want you to throw all of them, and the moment they detonate, you send a smoke canister to give us some cover while Mick, Connor, and I make a run for the factory. You two provide cover fire for us until we make it to the trucks, then you come out and join us. We take them together. Everyone got it?”