Ash: Rise of the Republic (22 page)

“Where are they going?” Deb was shocked.

“I guess the boy is afraid of losing his
precious armor, the sniveling coward. So much for Price’s
‘sources’. Maybe they’ll listen to me now.” The Captain angrily
ordered Deb to drive them back to meet with the Colonel but then,
looking back to the battlefield, he stopped her.

“Holy shit, he’s just going to send those
boys straight up the hill!” The infantry was advancing now. They
ran forward in squads, leapfrogging up the hill as they had been
trained. As they drew near the storefronts, more rockets hissed out
at them, throwing up huge clouds of ash and shrapnel where they
impacted the ground. The Republic troops returned the fire with
rifles and their own rockets. They continued to advance, some
squads laying down suppressive fire as others ran forward. They did
it by the book, but they were being hit hard. The Colonel had sent
them up a bare slope. There was little cover other than shallow
depressions and ash drifts. The volume of fire from the buildings
increased as they drew near. The enemy had taken up multiple
positions. Some were in the storefronts, far back from the long
shattered windows, firing from foxholes they had dug from the ash.
Still more were on the rooftops, pouring automatic fire and rockets
down from behind the cover of the masonry façade.

The Captain watched, cursing, as the attack
began to slow in the face of the brutal fire. Casualties were
mounting. Just as he was wondering where the outlaws’ heavy machine
guns were, he heard one open up from the depths of a previously
silent storefront.

“God damn it! They’re shredding them!” He
shouted to Deb, “Why doesn’t he at least lay down some fire?” He
gestured at the three armored vehicles, sitting silently out of
ranch of the rockets which still hissed and cracked into the
faltering attack.

He turned back to the battle when Deb
gasped. The brave men of the Republic were breaking. They had
suffered the fire without support for long enough. The survivors of
four companies streamed down the hill in utter panic. Dozens of
dead and dying men lay bleeding on the slope. When they reached the
four companies waiting in reserve they streamed through them,
sowing yet more panic among the green troops. Veterans and officers
did their best to hold them back, but the sight of their friends
and relatives screaming in terror and covered with blood and gore
finished the enemy’s work. The un-blooded companies joined their
fleeing comrades and the whole army streamed toward the waiting
APCs and the road home.

He could see the Colonel waving his plump
arms and yelling at the running men from one of the hatches of his
Stryker. They streamed past, ignoring him. The Captain signaled to
his company to form up and told Deb to move to head off the routing
troops. The rangers had nearly made it to the road when Werner
sprung his last surprise. McLelland watched, helpless, as a hundred
yard section of the road’s southern ash bank began to tremble. The
face of the bank fell away, and a hundred snarling, bloodthirsty
men in ragged clothes flooded from concealment took their savage
knives to the flank of the jumbled mass of troops who were running
in panic down the roadway.

Many of the Republic troops ignored this new
threat and simply continued running, shedding their packs and
weapons. Others turned to fight, and a vicious melee boiled between
the ashbanks. The Captain and his troopers slid to a halt, jumped
from their vehicles, and waded into the chaos, screaming shrill war
cries, hoping to turn the tide.

A stinking mass of hair and moldy clothes
came screaming at McLelland, a rusty knife in each upraised hand.
Deb casually shot him and he skidded through the ash, coming to a
bloody rest at her husband’s feet. A young bandit, his patchy beard
betraying his age, swung an axe at Deb’s back but the Captain
buried his big bowie in the boy’s chest. He looked down in surprise
at the sudden rush of blood as McLelland twisted it and yanked it
free.

There was a vast roar and the pair looked
up, the three armored vehicles were rolling at full speed up on the
north bank, plowing through the ash as they followed the army west
down the road. The Colonel was still wedged in his hatch, his face
contorted in terror. They looked at each other and laughed, then
turned back to the fight.

The rangers were fighting in teams as the
Captain had taught them. They were scything through the howling
pack of outlaws, ferocious and efficient. Stone and Blue fought
side by side, their long knives flickering. Their arms were already
red to the elbows with enemy blood. Grumps and Mason were taking
them two at a time, crushing skulls with a pair of big spiked
clubs. McLelland laughed as the twins, Casper and Pirate, hit a
shaggy man square in the face with a Molotov. It shattered on
contact and his greasy mane ignited immediately. He ran screaming
through the enemy. The two snipers were having fun with their first
battle, their bright young faces and golden hair were spattered
with gore as they carved up outlaws together. One almost got the
drop on them, coming from behind with a rusty machete, but Legs was
suddenly there, his knife sprouting from the man’s neck in a spray
of bright red. He spun on his short legs and lashed out at another
enemy. The man fell with his throat slashed, surprised by the short
boy’s long reach.

The Republic men who had stayed to fight had
formed a defiant knot in the mass of howling outlaws, and the
rangers carved a path through to them. They were mostly Campus
Guard veterans, rallied from the panic by Captain Collier and his
scarred, grim rangers. They fought fiercely, determined to hold the
enemy here while their comrades escaped slaughter.

When McLelland’s company broke through the
cordon, the outlaws retreated. They had panicked the green troops
and the mass of the army had fled, their job was done. They were
not interested in dying on the knives of the enemy elite.

The two Captains organized an orderly
withdrawal. There were dozens of bodies on the ground, an almost
even mixture of outlaws and army troops. The few wounded were
loaded on the UTVs, and the party slowly retreated down the road
with the enemy taunting their failure. The rangers formed a
rearguard in case the enemy had more up his sleeve. They flanked
the retreating force, driving slowly up on the banks to either
side. The twins had found a discarded rocket launcher and jumped
out every few minutes to send one hissing toward the taunting line
of enemy troops, but the range was too great.

The outlaws just stood in front of the
buildings and jeered. They had good reason to mock their enemy.
They had done their job well. The army of ragged, desperate men had
made fools of the Colonel’s smartly uniformed troops. Captain
McLelland looked at his watch, it was twenty five minutes past ten.
Twenty five minutes to route an army.

Two miles back, they found the supply trucks
foundering in thick ash. As the beaten troops and armored vehicles
had streamed passed them, the drivers had attempted to turn around
in panic. One had hit the wrong pedal at the worst moment and had
plowed his big truck into the south ashbank. The impact had started
an avalanche, and now the three trucks were up to their axles in
the loose dust.

The Captain was furious at the Colonel’s
casual abandonment of the crucial supplies. He organized a working
party and, while the rangers stood guard, the troops attacked the
shifted ash with shovels found in one of the trucks. They had the
vehicles free in less than ten minutes. The wounded were carefully
placed in the overloaded trucks and the small group headed
east.

They stumbled into Hempstead an hour before
dusk. There was no sign of the rest of the army or their fearless
leader.

“Probably settling in to a Navasota brothel
by now” offered Collier, amused at their predicament.

They camped on the overpass again. There was
no sign of enemy pursuit. The people in the town below went about
their lives as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.

In the morning, despite McLelland’s protest,
Collier volunteered to stay and screen the enemy advance. “I’ll
send word as soon as I know something. Get these boys back to a
doctor.” He indicated the dozen wounded men, stiff and groaning
from a variety of cuts and gouges. “We’ll be ok here.”

McLelland eventually relented. “You watch
yourself. I’m not gonna be able to patrol the whole god damned
region by myself when this is over!”

****

McLelland’s party marched in good order through
Navasota’s south gate that afternoon, the supply trucks rolling
slowly behind. Curious soldiers, men who had been safe and
comfortable in their billets since the night before, trickled into
the street to watch them pass. Few met their eyes, instead hanging
their heads in shame at their display of cowardice. The veterans
deposited the wounded with an astonished doctor, and left to find
strong drink.

There were MPs stationed at the closest
saloon, but when they moved to stop the Captain, the cavernous bore
of his drawn revolver made them hesitate. He stared them down as
the exhausted group of veterans and rangers filed into the dark
barroom. Once his charges were safely deposited, he ducked his head
in and shouted to the barkeep with a grin, “The first two rounds
are on me! If they want more they pay for it themselves!”

The troops gave a ragged cheer as he ducked
back out. He walked back up the street, heading for the big saloon
where he thought he might find the Colonel. Sheepish men crowded
around him, offering excuses for their panicked flight. The press
of bodies grew until he had to stop and address them.

“It’s all right boys, it’s all right. No one
is calling you yellow. Some of you took more punishment than anyone
could have expected on that hill. I don’t blame any of you for
running. In my eyes the blame rests on just one man. If you’ll
excuse me, I’d like to go and discuss it with him.” He patted his
holstered revolver and winked at the men. They laughed, still
ashamed but glad the salty old ranger wasn’t rubbing it in.

The scene was much the same as it had been
two nights before. The mostly empty room was still filled with a
smoky haze. The Colonel was stuffed into the same corner booth, his
officers squeezed onto the bench on either side. They looked up in
astonishment when he burst through the door.

He didn’t play games this time. He stomped
straight up to them, drew his revolver, and slammed it down on the
table.

“Here! Use mine!”

The Colonel flinched at the violence of the
act, his jowls jiggled. Major Price began to speak in outrage at
his rude approach.

“Captain McLelland! What do you…” he trailed
off, silenced by a murderous glance from the Captain.

McLelland turned back to the Colonel, his
voice dripped with bile, “I thought maybe yours was broken in the
fight.”

“Wha..what?” The Colonel stammered, barely
able to form words in his sudden terror.

“Your sidearm. It must have been damaged in
the fight. It’s the only reason that I can come up with for why you
haven’t blown your own brains out in shame!”

“Captain, you are out of line!” Garza found
sudden courage. “If you are somehow implying that our defeat was my
fault, you are sadly mistaken! The enemy had anti-tank weapons! We
couldn’t risk the armor, it is much too valuable to throw away
fighting mere bandits! And I can hardly be blamed for the fact that
the men turned and ran instead of doing their duty and pressing the
attack home! If you insist on accusing me of cowardice or
incompetence I will have you arrested! I will not abide
insubordination in my army!

“Now, if you are quite through flinging wild
accusations, I’d like to get back to discussing our next move.
Before we were so rudely interrupted, Major Price was reporting on
his latest intelligence. Major, please continue.”

The Captain was shocked into silence by
Garza’s sudden display of authority. He listened, fuming, as the
Major gave his report.

“Right, as I was saying, the enemy has moved
to capture Hempstead. The town surrendered without a fight late
this morning. Werner constructed defenses on the overpass and left
two hundred men to hold them. The rest of his force has returned to
their main camp to resupply.”

“Outstanding,” the Colonel was beaming now,
“We can repay them for their insult yesterday. Two hundred men!
We’ll walk right over them! We can wipe out a third of his army!
Major, draw up the orders, we will march in the morning.”

“Is that wise, Colonel?” McLelland could no
longer hold back. “I suggest we confirm the Major’s intel. I could
have my scouts down to the enemy camp and back by tomorrow
afternoon.”

“That won’t be necessary Captain, Major
Price assures me of the accuracy of his reports.”

Price gave the Captain a snide look. “A
prudent decision, Colonel, there is just one problem. Many of the
men lost their weapons in the retreat. I’m afraid we will have to
wait for resupply from Campus. And, of course, there is the matter
of the missing supply trucks…”

The Captain laughed at this. “You mean the
trucks you left in the road when you ran? Don’t worry, we collected
them, along with the wounded men you left behind, or at least as
many as we could. The rest are probably being served on Werner’s
dinner table tonight. Maybe if you hadn’t…” He stopped. He could
tell he was wasting his time. He was outnumbered by cowards who had
spent the better part of a day and a half justifying their actions.
He sighed and dragged the big pistol off the table and slid it back
into his holster. “I’ll see you in the morning, gentlemen.” He
turned to go, conveniently forgetting to salute again.

Collier was just riding through the gate
with his company when the McLelland emerged from the officers’ bar.
He rode over and nodded at the door, “The Colonel comfortable?”