Pedestals of Ash (4 page)

The game was about to change.

Smokey and Hawk looked at each other and smiled. The diversion had started right on schedule
,
and their main attack force was almost in place. Everything was going
according
to plan so far. As they waited for the main attack column to take position, both
men listened to the noise
generated by the diversion. Along with the sporadic sound of gunfire, they could hear shouted commands coming from bo
th sides of the fight. Smokey glanced
over at Hawk and nodded, indicating it was time. Hawk smiled, mouthed the words
,
“
See ya later
,” and took off running back toward the courthouse.

Deacon Brown looked up fro
m her binoculars and met Atlas’
gaze. She shook her head in puzzlement, as something just didn’t seem right about this attack. She had watched over two dozen engagements with the people her men had nicknamed “the skinnies.” Normally, when they attacked the church’s perimeter, the skin
nies tried to keep the defenders’
heads down and probe the wall. Today, there didn’t seem to be any probing. She waited for five minutes, anticipating a small group to sprint out of hiding and charge the wall, but the attempt to breach never occurred. It seemed like the skinnies were happy to just sit back behind cover and waste ammunition.
This is just odd,
she thought,
I bet we are going to see something new today.

One of Smokey’s ex-cell
mates approached and informed him everyone
was in position. Smokey nodded
and looked at his watch. Hawk should be here any minute. On
cue
, the attackers heard the sound of a diesel engine
,
approaching from behind them. Smokey looked around the corner and saw a large garbage truck rolling down the street. The emblem on the door read “City of Alpha – Department of Sanitation
,
” and Smokey thought it prophetic. He was going to take out that garbage behind that wall. Through the front
windshield
, he could see the outline of several sandbags that had been stacked to provide some protection for the driver. As the truck came to a stop a few blocks away,
1
2
of their best men started climbing into the empty garbage area where they would be protected by the thick
,
steel walls. Hawk jumped out of the passenger door and ran to join his leader.

As soon as the men were loaded inside of the truck,
the driver rev
ved the big diesel
engine, signaling he was ready.
Hawk, along with another man, carried glass bottles of gasoline toward the perimeter of the church. Each bottle had a
four-inch
length of cloth stuffed into the opening. Commonly called a Molotov
cocktail
, the small mo-gas powered bombs were not overly effective as an antipersonnel device
,
but they could cause people to avoid or abandon an area. Hawk signaled to the men surrounding his position
,
and they opened fire on
the
wall directly in front of him. He pulled a cigarette lighter
out of his shirt pocket and ignited
the rag protruding from the top of the homemade bomb.

Deacon Brown was proud of the men defending the wall. For the past
few
minutes, they had hardly fired a shot at the attackers who seemed to b
e content just harassing them.
Ammunition was always in short supply
,
and she had preached time and again to conserve the precious commodity. She started to turn and comment to one of the hunters when Atlas put his hand on her shoulder and pointed to the west side of the compound.

The four people on the annex roof watched in fascinated horror as two men suddenly appeared close to the wall
,
carrying smoking glass bottles of what everyone knew was gasoline. It wasn’t the bombs that caused them all to hold their breath, as the skinnies had tried to
implement
this technique before with little effect. What caused a sickening fear in Deacon Brown’s stomach was the huge garbage truck barreling at high speed directly at their
barricade.

To the leader of the church, everything began to move in slow motion. She watched speechless
ly
as the two b
ottles arched through the air,
land
ing
just on the other side of the wall. Both bottles shattered on the parking lot surface with an audible whoosh. Flame and black smoke quickly rose into the air. The three men defending that section of the wall naturally ran away from the heat created by the burning liquid spreading across the pavement.

Smokey’s tank was less than 100 feet away when the fires started. Deacon Brown
started screaming at her troopers
, “Shoot the truck! Shoot
the truck!” Each man moved his
aim
,
and
a
few sparks flew from the steel trash bed, quickly followed by holes in the windshield
,
surrounded by small spider webs of shattered glass. It was too late. A few more shots sparked and ping
ed off
the heavy steel compartment above the cab, but the effect was minimal. The big vehicle slammed into the makeshift fortification at over 20 miles per hour
,
creating havoc among the defenders.

It had been a Sunday morning so many months ago when dis
aster
struck the peaceful town of Alpha. Electric power had been sporadic for days
,
and the constant barrage of frightening headlines
from the cable news channels left
everyone on edge.
Worshippers lined the wooden pews in the main sanctuary
,
and the overflow was barely managed in the balcony area of The First Bible Church
. Toes began to tap
,
and worshippers began to sway to the sounds of “Abide
with
Me,” as the widely acclaimed g
ospel choir
filed from
behind the congregation to their designated
seating behind the podium. The call to w
orship
had just begun
, only to be
interrupted by what most of the congregation thought was thunder. When the windows of the big church rattled a
few moments later, most folks expected
the town was going to re
ceive a rare late-summer storm.
No one really knew what happened at the chemical plant just north of the city. The choir had just finished a rousing rendition of
“
Amazing Grace
”
when a small boy, frightened of the thunder, was overhead a
sking his father if the town were
on fire. Practically every head in the pews turned to look out the window. What they saw was a huge pillar of smoke reaching skyward over the town’s modest skyline. There had been an explosion and now a fire. What no one could have known was that a poison cloud of gas accompanied the disaster
,
and thousands of their fellow citizens were being killed instantly even as the minister began to read the announcements for the day. The service
was in full swing when a woman near
the back of the church
screamed
loudly. Everyone turned to see a
n injured
man
,
carrying a small child
, stumbling toward the altar
. The victim’s skin was peeling off of his face
,
and the girl wasn’t breathing. Before he died, he managed to gasp a warning that the air was poison
ed
,
and everyone was dead. Those were the first people buried by the church’s men, but they were far from the last.

In the beginning
, the congregation
tried to follow the creed associated with being a Christian organization.
As the pastor, Diana’s father had
initially welcomed anyone who needed aid
following the disaster
. This generosity was quickly taken advantage of by a desper
ate population
,
and the raids
started. It became clear that civilized behavior had turned into
“
ev
ery man for himself.
”
During one break-in
, the pastor had tried to stop the thieves
and had been shot and killed. At that point, Diana had taken over
.
During the subsequent
months
,
the church members were forced to protect themselves
,
and thus
the wall had been erected.

The parking lot had been full of cars
, and their frames
became the foundation for the wall. Trees were felled, picnic tables were moved, old pews from the warehouse were stacked
,
and even the lawnmowers were used to reinforce the fortifications. It had worked. The raids had been stopped cold
,
and everyone felt more secure sleeping in the modern equivalent of a c
astle surrounded by a thick barricade
.
At least it had been secure until this moment.

The family sedans and wooden pallets used on the west side of the grounds were no match for the mass times velocity of the speeding garbage truck. The kinetic energy delivered via the front bumper of the heavy rig pushed the cars aside and cut through the barrier like a hot knife through butter. Were it not for a pile of old bricks directly in the truck’s path, the breach would have completely devastated the defenders. As it were, a front wheel of the truck became airborne as it ramped over the brick pile. This not only resulted in a lurching change of speed, but the wheel bounced twice before the truck skidded to a stop. The
12
heavily armed men in the back compartment were violently thrown around inside of their steel box. It took them almost a full minute to untangle themselves, find dropped weapons
,
and gather their wits enough to start piling out the back. That minute ended up being the difference in the outcome of the battle.