Avalon: The Retreat (39 page)

Bone Breaker longed for the old days when he was a professional wrestler. He was a star and he had money, nice cars, clothes, and his choice of women. He had it all before the bombs fell. He got hungry quickly, as big men do; he was seven feet four inches and weighed five hundred fifty pounds. He got on his Harley and headed through the San Fernando Valley; that was when he ran into the first of them. They were all bikers, a few of the lowest of the low. The others were just lazy bums who would rather steal, do dope, get drunk, and fight than hold down any real job, even before the nuclear attack.

Most were motorcycle mechanics and welders, some were construction workers, roofers, carpenters, cement workers, and landscapers, but most of them were low-life thieves and cutthroats who would rather steal from people than anything else. His first altercation was with a guy who called himself Sonny. He seemed to be the leader and wanted Bone Breaker’s ride. Bone Breaker put down the kick stand, faced the man, and challenged him,

“Take it if you’ve got the balls.”

Sonny immediately went for his knife so Bone Breaker lashed out like a cobra and hit the man in the throat. That was the end of the fight. Bone Breaker reached down and grabbed the man’s neck and snapped it like a dry twig. He had followers in that moment and as they traveled, they gathered in more. Each new challenge made for new recruits to join in the fun of plundering, raping, and pillaging. Then one night the scenario became even more twisted.

He was hungry, like everyone else, and caught one of his men eating some fresh meat. He took it away from the man and ate it himself, not realizing that it was a child he was eating… until later. By then he figured what the hell; it was easier than hunting deer up in those mountains. One thing led to another and they ate child after child throughout their travels.

That was the beginning.

It wasn’t a bad life for Bone Breaker. He still had the fame, the power, and his choice of women. But most of the women these days were skinny as hell. His followers now numbered around three hundred fifty or more men. But those soldiers in the hills to the south had cut a swath right down the middle of his camp and they were going to pay for that.

Beth and her group circled to the west to meet Mike and whomever he was bringing to the fight. Meanwhile, she sent a runner to Sheriff Waters and asked him to get the people at the Armory to unite and move on the Slaver’s flank from the east of her. She also wanted him to know that her group would attack from the west after they joined Mike and his people.

If Mike’s group joined the attack with a flanking move just north of where she would be, it could well be a very rewarding battle. By the moves she contemplated, the Slavers only had one option and that was to attack her head-on in force. They could possibly overwhelm her and the kids but if Beth and Mike were lucky, they would win the battle and drive the Slavers toward the north. There was no other option so they moved right away toward the west.

Mike, Sam, Roger, and Greg made it to the old rail bed and met Dan Crowley, Doug Nielsen, Harlan Herrera, Ken Foxx, Dennis Post, Chad, and Stan Doyle That made eleven able-bodied men to attack the bad guys, and they were well-armed. Sam and Harlan brought some interesting goodies with them, the homemade variety. They all had dirt bikes and moved toward the Slaver’s camp fast and with a deadly purpose.

Not long after everyone moved toward their respective objectives, Mike and Beth came together. Mike suggested they attack in spurts of five, moving in on the perimeters, taking out the stragglers, and then falling way back. Others would come around and attack from the north, do the same, and fall back. In the meantime, the runner Beth sent to the Sheriff circled around and heard the Slavers coming. He fell down on his stomach and watched the Slavers move toward the area where he and Beth had attacked them earlier that morning.

The Slavers moved as a rowdy, disorganized mob toward the small patch of woods with the slight incline. Tom Wyatt laid there and watched them pass, the dust they left behind nearly choking him. It amazed him how many men there were and he started counting as best he could because he knew Beth would ask how many. In fifteen minutes, a straggler seemed to be having problems with his bike and had stopped to fix it. While still sitting on the machine, he bent over at the waist looking at something on the motor.

Tom moved rapidly toward the man but suddenly the Slaver looked up, and Tom drove his knife into the man’s chest, killing him instantly. Tom moved toward the west and looked back frequently as he moved away. He was afraid, but he was a valiant young man. He had learned, during these past days with Beth, to always stay alert, watch your back, and never hesitate during an attack.

Mike and the men of Avalon parked their bikes, camouflaged them with some odd cuttings, and posted a sentry off behind them. The sentry promptly scurried up a tree and the others went in quietly. They saw about a dozen men guarding the camp on the outskirts. Most of the Slavers were already gone. There was a big tent in the middle of the camp with one guard at the front and another at the back. Mike instructed the men in a small huddle; each man would take out one guard on his signal.

“Change of plans; we need to do things differently; gather around. Beth you and the kids move over there and stay there as backup if something goes wrong.”

They would start from the one o’clock position and work their way around the clock to the twelve. He checked his watch and said,

“I’ll take the skinny guy on the left by that rock and Sam, you take the next one to his left. Harlan, you take that one over there and each of you take one. Sam and I will take out the extra leftovers after we fire. Everyone stay in a line and we will fire in… one more minute from… now.”

Each man laid down in the dirt and took aim.

“In ten… “Mike spoke and paused… “Three… two… one… FIRE!” It sounded almost as if a single rifle went off and the sentries doubled over and fell to the ground. Mike jumped up, ran toward the camp, and encountered a skinny Slaver with lots of hair on his chest running out of the big tent. Mike cut him down with a three-shot burst to the chest, then ran to the tent and rushed in. He was stunned by the sight of nearly fifty women. Most of them looked haggard and dirty, and the clothes they wore were torn and ripped.

“We aren’t going to hurt you.” Mike said in a hushed manner. “Where are you all from?”

“Just about all of us are from Fitch,” responded a woman who came forward. “The Slavers were going to take us to the coast and sell us to some men there. I heard them talking about it. My name is Mary Donley.”

She stuck out a dirty hand and Mike took it in his own.

“Nice to meet you Mary; you’ll be home in a few more hours.”

A few more shots rang out; it was Sam cleaning up the extras.

“Let’s take these women toward the northeast and get them home. We can come into town from the north but first we need to scout out the area for any stragglers. Check the bodies and make sure they’re all dead. Sam, come over here; leave none of them alive.”

He looked at Sam, “We need to get these women back to Fitch. Find the Armory if you can and drop them off; while you’re there, see if you can bring some sort of an equalizer back with you.”

He winked and gave Sam a big smile. Sam understood.

“The rest of us are going toward the south because I am sure they went that way. Hey Beth,” he turned toward her, “Can you come over here, please?”

“Did you tell me earlier that you had a bit of a fight with some Slavers not long ago?”

She spoke with conviction and said, “We did, and we killed eighteen of them.”

“I think a few of them got away and came back here to let their leader know what happened,” he sounded as if he were piecing it together as he spoke. “I think they’re looking for you over where you were earlier. Look around! Everyone is gone and so are their motorcycles. It’s just a guess, but why else would they leave the camp totally empty? Those boys will be coming home when they don’t find you and those kids. I strongly suspect they went south in force and will be coming back here soon. Beth, if you will, go with Sam. Once the women are dropped off, I want Sam to circle back from the east and head west to Fitch.”

His plan was coming together, “We will meet the Slavers as they head this way and see what kind of damage we can do to them. When they show up, my friends and I will probably get very busy, so a flank attack would be very helpful.”

Beth came over to Mike and unzipped her backpack. Reaching inside, she pulled out a dozen sticks of dynamite with the caps and fuses already inserted in each stick and handed them to him. She said with authority in her voice,

“Those are thirty second fuses and they pack a wallop. Throw them as far as you can or they’ll bite you. We’ll see you boys in a couple of hours.”

She turned and walked away with Sam, the women and, of course, all of her kids. It made Mike smile; she reminded him of a mother hen with her chicks going wherever mama went.

He turned and addressed his troops in a forceful voice. He wanted them to all hear what he said.

“Okay people, let’s get ready to move. I want to find some shelter because they’ll be on their bikes when they come and we want to take out as many of them as we can on the first pass.”

Mike told two men to go over by the small trees to his immediate left and cut a few branches about the size of a cue stick in diameter. They went over and immediately had several branches and brought them back to him.

“I’ll need something to tie these with; cut the para-cord off those two tents.”

When Harlan brought the cord, Mike was finished limbing the branches. He cut them and tied each of the sticks of dynamite to the ends of the two-foot sections.

Mike’s team walked south and looked over briefly to see Beth, Sam, and the kids disappear over a small knoll. In a half-hour Mike heard the Slavers coming so he found an old dry creek bed that ran east to west and was about five feet deep, just deep enough to stand in and fire over the rim. It would have to do because there just wasn’t much cover in this place. They saw a huge cloud of dust off into the distance and a young boy fell in next to Mike and said,

“I’m Tom Wyatt. Beth sent me over to talk to the Sheriff and I was on my way back when I saw those guys headed for our old camp. I got one of ‘em and counted the rest.”

“You counted them… all of them?”

“Yes Sir… I think so. There was a lot of dust but I think there are three hundred ten of them. The guy in the front is a giant.”

“Well, we’re going to reduce that number significantly pretty soon. Everybody get ready and keep your heads down; this is going to get ugly. We’ll be hearing from Sam soon, I hope.”

He laid the dynamite attached to the sticks down next to him and noticed there was a small plastic bag of strike anywhere matches with the extra sticks not tied to a branch. He made sure they would be ready to use when he needed them. He could hear the rumble of the bikes now and the dust cloud was getting closer. The grass in front of the creek bed stretched out and away from them and Mike got an idea. The predominant wind was toward the south and that’s the direction they were coming from, maybe. He struck a match and touched it to the tall yellow grass and it caught fire immediately. In a half minute, the fire was burning hard, gathering momentum, and heading directly toward the bikers. In another minute, it was a firestorm and its own heat drove it forward. Mike was wondering how close they were getting, when one of the Slavers broke through the fire and came straight at them. The guy was on fire and fell over thrashing and writhing on the ground. There were large burn blisters all over him and his bike exploded when the fire reached the gas tank. This was going to get interesting. Another bike came through and that guy was on fire too. Mike yelled at his troops,

“Hold your fire!”

The noise of the motorcycles’ roaring stopped momentarily and once the fire went past a certain point, they could see burned Slavers lying on the blackened ground. All of them were on fire and smoking, and so were their bikes. Most were thrashing as if they were fish plucked out of the water. The roar of the bikes went up again, moving away from them. Several of the motorcycles in front of them exploded, sending sparks everywhere and various bits and pieces of debris rained down on them. The burning bikers were twisting and writhing on the ground. Everyone ignored them.

“We’re going to have a lull for a little while,” Mike yelled to his people. “Once the fire burns out or passes them, they’ll be back in force and they’re going to be pissed! Hold your positions and make certain each shot takes one of them out. Check your pieces and make sure you have it on semi-fire mode; we won’t be getting any ammo drops and none of us will be finding a store around here either. If you can’t do the job with single fire, we’re all going to be dead. Tom says there are a little over three hundred of them.”