Avenging Home (11 page)

“To give these to Miss Kay so she can get started on supper,” Sarge replied.

He then looked at Mike and Ted. “I want you two to get out there to the Elk’s Camp and get a lay of the land. We need some range cards. I want a place to set the mortar up. Get us some ranges so we can drop some heat on those bastards. I also want you to find out where the vehicles are stored so we can hit as many of them as possible too.”

“I’m going with them,” Ian said.

Sarge looked at him. “I know you want to, but I want you to stay here. Those bastards could come back, and we need to keep as much manpower here as we can. But don’t worry. You’ll get your chance, Ian. I’ll make sure you get some scalps for your belt.”

Ian nodded. “Alright. But when the time comes, don’t even think about keeping me out of the fight.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sarge said.

“When are you thinking of hitting them?” I asked.

“We need some intel first. See what their strength is and work up a plan. When we do this, we’re all in. There will be no half measures,” Sarge said.

“No half measures,” Danny repeated.

I was looking at Ian and could tell there was a fire in him. “I say you let Ian go. Three of them stand a better chance of getting out if they run into anything.”

Ian looked at me, then at Sarge. Sarge crossed his arms and eyed Ian. “You want some get-back, don’t you?” Ian nodded. “Alright, go with them. Just remember, this isn’t the time to start any shit. This is recon only.”

“Cross my heart,” Ian replied.

“Alright, go with ‘em.”

“We’ll get it done, boss,” Ted said.

“You boys be careful,” Sarge said.

“Damn sure, be careful,” I added, then asked, “How’s Perez?”

Ian smiled. “He’s getting better. He’s sore all over now. The shits are gone though.”

“I hope you guys are staying away from him,” Sarge said.

Ian nodded. “We are. We just slide some food under the door to him. Doc gave us a bottle of alcohol to wipe things down with, and we’ve been doing that. I don’t want to get sick.”

“You better not. You ain’t got permission. Now git. You got lots of stuff to do,” Sarge said.

The three men nodded and quickly left to get their gear together. As we stood there, the hammering started again.

“What the hell is
that!”
I said. Then I looked around. “You smell smoke?”

Thad looked off in the direction of the sound. “Someone is hammering on something; and yeah, I smell it.”

“You guys got this? I want to go see what the hell that is,” I said.

Thad nodded. “Sure. Ain’t no big deal.”

“I’m taking these pieces of meat inside, and I’ll be back. Thad, you and Danny cut them Jowls out. That’s good meat,” Sarge said as he headed for the house.

Chapter 5

I
found the source of the hammering under a lean-to type shed behind one of the houses on the block. There was a large fire burning in front of it. As I approached the shed, I called out. “Yo!”

A shirtless Dalton came out of the small shed. In his right hand he held a five pound hammer. He was sweating and covered in soot. “Allo, allo,” he said with a broad smile.

“What the hell are you doing? What’s all the racket?”

He smiled and beckoned me towards the shed. “Follow me and I’ll show you, laddie.”

Under the tin roof of the shed was a crude forge. The fire bed was actually an old wheelbarrow pan. One of the shallow ones that makes you wonder what in the hell its purpose is. I could carry more in a five gallon bucket. He’d removed the handles and wheel and had it set up on what was once a cast iron patio table. Lying on the ground was a foot bellow, the kind used to blow up inflatable mattresses when camping or when you had company you didn’t particularly care for.

“What do you think? Took me a couple of days to get it all sorted out, but it’s working good now,” Dalton said, beaming with pride.

I nodded. “Looks good. But uhm, why didn’t you just drag an old Webber grill or something over here from one of the houses?”

Dalton blinked at me, then looked at the forge. Shrugging, he said, “Hell, anyone could do that.”

Sitting beside the forge was a small anvil. Pointing at it, I asked, “Where in the hell did you find that?”

“Like everything else, in a barn behind one of the houses. It was covered with rust, but it still serves its purpose just fine.”

The old anvil was indeed covered in rust. Thick chunks formed a ring around its base, having been loosed during hammering. Dalton had also scrounged an assortment of ad hoc smithing tools.

Picking up a large pair of channel locks, I said, “Looks like you’ve got about everything you need. What are you making?”

Taking the channel locks, he plucked an axe head, or what was once an axe head, from the bed of coals. Laying it on the anvil, he gripped the hammer, cut me an evil grin and said, “Tomahawks!” And then he slammed the hammer into the red hot steel with a shower of sparks. He hammered on it for several strokes before plunging it back into the coals. Looking at me with an eye squinted shut and the opposite eyebrow arched, he shouted. “Air, lad! I need air! Doddle not! Make ye self useful!”

I looked down at the foot bellow and stepped down on it. The coals began to glow a bright red. Dalton called for more air, and I continued to pump the bellows. His enthusiasm was infectious, and soon I was laughing.

“You’re nuts!” I shouted.

He leaned in close to my face. “We’re working iron!”

I stayed with him for a while, working the bellow while he reshaped the axe head. As we worked, I asked about the large fire.

Dalton pointed at it. “Making charcoal. See that can there? It’s full of chunks of wood. Cook it down to coal.”

Nodding, I said, “Like a gasifier.”

“Yeah. Same principal, except we’re not collecting the gas.”

Looking back into the fire pit, I asked, “So you’re making charcoal to burn in here?”

Dalton adjusted the head in the coals. “Yep. This burns hotter and there’s no real flame. Makes it a lot easier.”

Looking at him, I asked, “Why?”

Dalton took the axe head from the coals and laid it on the anvil. Shrugging, he said, “Every boy needs a hobby.” Then he smiled and added, “idle hands are the devil’s playground.”

Mike squatted in the tall grass observing the cluster of small concrete block cabins through a pair of binoculars. “This side sucks,” he said as he as he slowly dropped back down.

Ted looked around. “Yeah. We’re downhill. Not where I’d want to be when the bullets started flying.”

“We need to find the trucks,” Mike said.

“Alright. Let’s move to the west and go around and see what we can find,” Ted replied.

“I think we need a little security,” Ian said as his eyes darted around. “I don’t like this.”

As a Marine, Ian was accustomed to taking the fight to the enemy. Kicking in doors and smoking bad guys with speed and violence of action. He was not comfortable with the whole sneaking and peaking thing. He’d tried out for Force Recon, but it quickly became clear he wasn’t cut out for it. He wasn’t the right guy for precision warfare. He was a hammer, and everything to him looked like a nail. Not that he wasn’t good at what he did. Two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star were acknowledgements of his past deeds.

“I’m going to provide rear security. I’ll shadow you guys so no one sneaks up on our six,” Ian added.

Ted nodded. “Alright. Good idea. There’s a lot of goons running around. If you see something, let us know. These radios are encrypted, so they won’t be able to listen in even if they knew we were here.”

Ian nodded and gave a thumbs up.

“Quick radio check,” Mike said and keyed his mic. Ted and Ian both heard the squelch break and nodded. Then each did the same.

“Alright. Keep your eyes open,” Ted said as he and Mike moved off.

The camp had several very nice features. One was a military-style confidence course on the northeast side. There were twin pools, mirrors of one another sitting together just off the dining hall. Behind it was a series of ball fields. A large auditorium was the crowning component of the facility.

Mike and Ted moved around the ball field slowly and cautiously. The place was full of people, and they’d seen two roving patrols already. While they hadn’t been noticed, it was enough to keep them on their toes. The patrols seemed lackadaisical at best, with those in the element walking with weapons slung and talking amongst themselves. Mike noted their discipline, or lack of it, on his pad.

The Elk’s Camp is situated on over four hundred acres of rolling hills and scattered oak trees. It opened in 1991 to serve kids, and has been continually upgraded to be one of the finest youth camps in the state. At least it was. Now, the fifty plus cabins house elements of the DHS and those working with them.

It was early evening, and Ted and Mike kept to the tree lines and thicker brush. Lack of maintenance since the Day meant overgrown grass, weeds and brush. Something they used to their advantage. Once the sun went down, they would be able to move a little freer, but would see less. Ted halted and moved slowly to the edge of the trees on the west side of the ball field. It was a thin line of screening vegetation, so they had to be cautious. Lying prone, Ted scanned the main road of the camp, then passed the binoculars to Mike. “There’s the trucks.”

The area was busy with people, but in a very organized fashion. There were only a couple of open fires they could see, which made them wonder where the camp occupants were cooking. But there were two large buildings that could easily handle that. Not to mention this was a large camp. There had to be a kitchen someplace. The people they saw were for the most part not carrying long arms. While many had pistols on their sides, only a few were seen with a rifle. Either they were practicing some discipline in camp or they were confident they were safe, and it wasn’t deemed necessary.

Ian moved into the tree line as well, staying a hundred or so yards away. He raised up on his elbows and looked towards Mike and Ted. Seeing the tops of their heads and confirming where they were, he dropped back down and settled in behind his rifle. Ian scanned the area around the pools through the ACOG mounted on his carbine.

He observed the black-clad Stormtroopers. As the peak of the chevron on the optic crossed a head, he would whisper
boom,
and move on to the next one and repeat it. He wanted to shoot these bastards. While Ian was always in this fight, things were now personal. He wanted retribution. He wanted their heads.

Mike adjusted the glass and looked at the line of the vehicles sitting on the main road. Just to the south was a large metal building with its rollup door open and what appeared to be a truck getting serviced.

“That’s the motor pool there,” Mike said.

Ted nodded. “Yeah. They’ve got some hardware there.”

“Even with the four we’ve killed. Where’d they get all of them?”

“What are they doing over there?” Ted asked, pointing to a couple of MRAPs sitting behind the metal building.

“They’re painting them,” he said. And then he looked at the other trucks.

“Makes sense. Can’t believe they went with white to begin with,” Ted replied.

“Makes for good targets.”

“Those trucks are well within range for the Goose. We could put a hurt on them from anywhere along here,” Ted said.

Mike swung the binoculars around. “The best place would be that little hut out there in the ball field. We’d have a great view of nearly everything out here.”

“That thing would be a fucking bullet magnet,” Ted hissed.

“Only if they could see it. How many phosphorus rounds did the old man get?”

Ted thumped Mike in the side of the head. “How the hell are you going to see the trucks if you start dropping Willie Pete rounds? If they can’t see you, you can’t see them.”

“Calm down, peckerwood. What I was thinking was hitting them with some sixty millimeter rounds first. Set the tube up over there where we came in. Drop some HE Quick on them. And when they start running around like chickens, we start hitting trucks from over here. If they get their shit together and figure out we’re here, then we drop phosphorus on them to blind ‘em and set shit on fire.” Mike took the optic from his face and looked at Ted. “It would be fucking epic!” He hissed.

Ted took the binoculars and scanned the area. His head slowly started to nod. “You know, Mikey, you’re a sick and twisted little shit, but I think you’ve nailed it.”

Giggling to himself, he said, “I know! Throw in a couple of shooters with scoped rifles from a couple different places, and we could raise some hell here!”

“Maybe. But there’s a bunch of swinging dicks out there. Gotta be more than a hundred.”

Mike rolled back over and looked out over the field. “True. Let’s knock ‘em in the dirt.”

The sun was dropping and the light was fading. Ted looked up into the sky and said, “Sharpen your pencil and finish the sketch. Get all the ranges down. After it’s good and dark, we’ll sneak out of here.” Just as the words left his mouth, there was the sudden rumble of a diesel engine. Lights quickly came on around the compound, illuminating the whole area. It caused both men to press themselves closer to the earth, if that were possible.

“What the fuck?” Mike mumbled. “You think they made us?”

Ted lifted his head. “No, I think they’re scared of the dark.”

Mike lifted his head. “Ya think? Jeeze, could they have any more damn light?”

“I think we need to be very careful getting out of here.”

Ian’s voice came over the radio. “
What the hell’s going on?”

“Think they’re scared of the dark. We’re good here,” Ted replied.

“
This makes me nervous. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“We’re with you. Let’s back out to the west, and get these trees between us and them before we start to head out.”

Ian’s reply was terse. “
Moving.”

“Let’s head straight back out of here, and find him,” Mike whispered.

“Lead the way, Tonto.” Ted replied.

I left Dalton and got back to Danny’s just as the guys were wrapping up work on the gator. Thad was looking at what was left of the creature, knife in hand. “Should we cut its heart out?”

Sarge walked up then. “No. You don’t want to eat organ meat from one of these. Tastes like the north end of a southbound pole cat.” As he was talking, Little Bit walked up and leaned against me. I ran my hand through her hair as we listened.

“Is it bad for you?” Thad asked.

“Naw. It’ll keep you alive. Just tastes like shit.”

“Little ears there, Grandpa Lumpy Lap,” I said.

Sarge looked at her and smiled. “Oh. Sorry, Lil’ Bit. I didn’t see you there.” Looking at me, he added, “I just meant they aren’t very good; no predator organs are.”

Nodding, I said, “Yeah. I kind of got that from the whole north end south end thing.”

“Then what are we going to do with the rest of this creature?” Danny asked.

Little Bit walked over to the gator and lifted its snout open, exposing the big teeth. Squinting, she looked at me. “Can I have the teeth?”

I couldn’t help but smile. Sarge and Thad both laughed. “You want those teeth?” Sarge asked as he pulled a Leatherman from his vest. She smiled and nodded. “Hold its mouth open and I’ll get ‘em for ya.”

Her nose wrinkled as she watched the old man wrench them out, one tooth at a time. She picked one of the large teeth up and looked closely at it, tapping the tip of it with her finger.

“What are you going to do with ‘em?” Thad asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get the tractor so we can get this thing out of here,” Thad said.

“Guess we should bury it,” Danny said.