Bug Out! Atlantic Book 6, page 17
Hymie glanced over at her. “Already turned that off. Grab your stuff and let’s get going.”
Pat grabbed her bow from the back, and her M4, slipping out the door, seeing movement across the street. She got Hymie’s attention. He was slipping his suppressor onto the barrel of his M4, and nodded towards the same place she was looking. Then he nodded towards a location to the right, Pat looking, seeing the glow of a cigarette in the bushes. She snuck further into the trees, closest to the smoker, nocking an arrow, pulling back on her compound bow. She waited for another drag on the cigarette, which happened in a few seconds, her arrow flying, a man moaning, falling, two clicks coming from Hymie’s M4, another body falling.
“Two sentries,” Pat whispered. “They’ll have one on Ensley too.”
“Glad we wore the black-out paint,” Hymie whispered back. “Itches a little, though.”
Pat rolled her eyes, staring out into the street and beyond, watching for movement, another arrow nocked.
“Look, another one coming over. He’s gonna start yelling when he sees them.”
“He won’t see them,” Pat said, her arrow flying, hitting the man in the chest, dropping him on the lawn.
Hymie kept his eyes peeled for a moment, looking for any more sentries. Nothing. He nodded towards the street, running across in a crouch, getting into the clump of bushes where his first victim was, Pat following a moment later. They both stayed still, watching for movement. Pat saw movement again, in the bushes bordering Ensley Drive, nocking another arrow, creeping forward, hearing clicks from Hymie’s M4, and the sound of a body falling.
“Sean, that you?” whispered somebody, Pat seeing him, firing an arrow, hitting him in the side, puncturing his lung, the man making a gurgling cry, coughing a couple times, dying. Hymie rushed over, getting close to whisper. “I think that was the last one outside. There will be others waiting for us inside. Maybe it’s time to switch to your M4.”
She nodded, setting down her bow, going to her M4. “We can get to opposite corners of the house through the bushes. You want the front corner or the rear corner?”
“Front,” Hymie said. “If there’s a car in the driveway, nail the tires.”
“Yeah,” she said. They took off through the bushes in opposite directions, Pat getting to the back corner, where there was a redwood-stained shed and a driveway. UN van parked. Figures. She rushed to it, pulling her knife, stabbing the tire, the air hissing from it a little louder than she liked. She snuck to the rear driver’s side tire and knifed that one too, waiting for the hissing to subside, watching the front of the house, seeing Hymie in the shadows, watching her, then pointing to the front door. After that, he made a circle gesture, telling her to go around the back of the house. She gave him a thumb up and crept around the shed, going towards the sliding door in the back of the house, stopping to look in a window, the house dark.
There was a crash as Hymie kicked in the front door, and then the rear sliding door opened, a man and a much younger woman rushing out, running through the back yard, Pat firing, hitting both of them, rushing over, the young woman dead, the man struggling to get up, his pistol a few feet away, Hymie rushing over, grabbing the pistol.
“Sibelius,” Pat said.
“Who are you? You killed my daughter, you bitch.”
“Pat Smetana. Who are you working for?”
“Stuff it,” he gurgled.
She stomped on his wound, causing an ear-shattering scream, lights next door coming on. “Who are you working for? Who recruited you?”
“Help!” he shouted, Hymie shooting him in the head. “Let’s get out of here. People are waking up.”
Pat nodded, and they ran back to the Jeep, Pat stopping to grab her bow. They could hear a siren approaching as Hymie pulled the Jeep onto the road.
***
Derrick was driving the SUV to Major Clinton’s house, Bailey next to him, messing with the belt for his M60.
“That thing is overkill for this mission,” Derrick said.
“We’re gonna have to brute force our way in there, and this will shoot through walls,” Bailey said. “I notice yours is back there.”
Derrick sighed. “Yeah, I got grenades too.”
“How far away you gonna park?”
“There’s a dirt road just past Stenton, right side of Joshua Road,” Derrick said. “Wish we had Hymie’s Wrangler instead of this frigging Tahoe, though.”
Bailey looked at his phone screen. “Oh, I see, you’ll go through the Highway Supply yard and follow the dirt road almost to Flourtown Road. That’ll work. It’s the only cover we have, but it’s just the one side.”
“Yeah, this is gonna be tough. We’ll have to shut off the lights.”
“You’re young enough to still have a little night vision, unlike me.”
“You did okay on that last hunting trip,” Derrick said. “Look, there’s Stenton already.”
“I know, following it on my GPS. There’s a good chance that the other team has already finished, you know.”
“So what?”
“If they got word from anybody at the other house, they’ll either be waiting for us, or they’ll split. That’s another reason I got the M60 ready.”
“Shit, didn’t think about that. Load the belt in mine, will you?”
Bailey chuckled. “Yeah, sure.” He set his down, belt hanging on it, and turned, pulling the other one out. “Damn, these are heavy.”
“Hold on, turning off the road.”
Bailey froze, holding the M60 to his torso as the Tahoe lurched into the dirt, going through the rutted surface, getting onto the dirt road which was smoother.
“This ain’t so bad,” Bailey said, back to messing with the ammo belt. “We’re gonna be there in a second.”
“I know, so hurry up with that. I need your eyes too, even if they do suck.”
“Shit, that cliff is between us and the target property.”
“Yeah.”
“We ain’t gonna climb that, are we? What the hell is this place?”
“It’s a quarry,” Derrick said. “Don’t worry, I’ll drive past that and double back. There’s a road that leads to the top of the cliff, close to the street.”
“Oh.” He set Derrick’s M60 into the back, then pulled his phone, looking at it. “Yeah, I see.”
“Glad you approve,” Derrick said, getting past the cliffs, shutting off the headlights, then turning right hard, climbing up the smaller road, the SUV bouncing around, Bailey dropping his phone onto his lap.
“Dammit.” Bailey grabbed his phone before it could fall to the floor.
“Put that damn thing in your pocket and get ready,” Derrick said. “You got the ringer off, right?”
“Yeah.”
Derrick pulled off the dirt road, getting closer to the trees and the street, and then they heard a car door opening and closing, lights flashing as a car backed out of the driveway on the far side of the property.
“Son of a bitch, he’s taking off onto Flourtown Road,” Derrick said, driving forward, the dash plate hitting debris as the Tahoe labored up the embankment, between dense foliage, the driver’s side mirror shearing off against the tree.
“Whoa,” Bailey said, holding onto the hand-grab in front of him.
Derrick opened the moon roof. “Get that M60 up there, Bailey.”
He laughed, picking up his M60 as Derrick careened onto Flourtown Road, flooring it, behind the BMW 740. He got through, struggling to get the M60 out there without dropping it, feeding the belt out. “When he sees us, he’s gonna take off in that B’mer. We won’t catch him in this pig.”
“Shoot him, dammit,” Derrick said, the Tahoe floorboarded
“You got it,” Bailey said, opening fire, bullets ripping into the back end of the BMW, then exploding the rear window, the ammo belt clattering against the roof of the Tahoe, fire spewing from the barrel, the BMW going out of control, running into a tree, Derrick stopping the Tahoe behind him, rushing out with his M4, looking in the window at the body in the driver’s seat, half his head gone. Derrick pushed him back, recognizing what was left of Major Clinton’s face, then rushing back to the Tahoe, Bailey just getting out with the M60.
“He dead?”
“Yeah, get back in the car,” Derrick said, tossing his M4 in the back seat and getting back behind the wheel. “C’mon, dammit, that frigging machinegun woke everybody within half a mile.”
“I’m working on it,” Bailey said, getting in, leaning the gun up against the door, Derrick roaring away. “You’re sure he’s dead?”
“Half his head was sitting on the dashboard, man. Gruesome sight.”
“But it was him?”
“Yeah, I could still recognize him.”
The Tahoe raced away into the night.
***
“They’re both coming home,” Rob said, setting down his phone. “Let’s get on social media, Slate. Talk about it everyplace you can.”
“Okay. What’s their names again?”
“Clinton and Sibelius.”
“Got it. How do you spell Sibelius?”
Rob jotted it down on a piece of paper and slid it to him.
They got to work, seeding the message boards, then answering questions when people got on. The traffic built quickly, many citizens in the resistance asking about the Army base. They were at it for more than a half hour when Pat and Hymie got back, coming in the door with their weapons.
“Hear from Derrick and Bailey?” Hymie asked.
“They should be here any minute. Derrick’s kinda pissed. Sheared off his driver’s side mirror on a tree.”
Hymie snickered as the back door opened, Derrick in first, carrying his M4 and crossbow, then going out to help Bailey with the M60s and ammo belts. They got inside and closed the door.
“Think anybody followed you guys?” Rob asked.
“No way,” Derrick said. “Took the long way, stopped in a couple places and got out as if we were home.”
“Yeah, we did that too, just like you said,” Hymie added. “Nada, man.”
“How’s the social media event going?” Pat asked, sitting next to Rob at the table.
“Well, it’s out there. Don’t know if it’s gonna spark a UN attack.”
“I’ll make some calls,” Derrick said, walking away with the phone to his ear.
“How’d it go for you guys?” Bailey asked.
“Killed a bunch of sentries, then killed Sibelius and his daughter as they tried to flee the house,” Hymie said.
“What about the rest of his family?” Bailey asked.
“Don’t know, they’re all that ran. We never went inside.”
“Slaughtering the entire family wasn’t part of the game plan,” Pat said. “I’m glad we didn’t.”
“You feel bad about the daughter,” Hymie said.
“Well, not really given who these folks are, but we’re trying to win people over. We can’t be too savage or it’ll turn people off.”
“I agree completely,” Rob said.
“How’d your operation go?” Pat asked.
Bailey chuckled. “We didn’t even get in the house. Somebody tipped off Major Clinton. He tried to escape in his BMW. I blasted him with my M60, through the Tahoe’s moon roof.”
“You’re kidding me,” Hymie said, laughing. “Sure you got him?”
“Derrick checked the body. Said it was Clinton, and that half his head was sitting on the dashboard.”
Derrick came back out. “The UN already called the base, telling the acting CO they were coming to secure the place. The acting CO said if they came anywhere near the base they’d be fired upon.”
“What’d the UN say to that?” Slate asked.
“Nothing. They hung up. The acting CO is getting ready now. Gonna take up a few Apaches and attack any UN vehicles that come down the road.”
“They need help?” Hymie asked.
“They might,” Derrick said. “Let’s ask for citizen help on social media just in case. There’s only forty troops at that base, and most of them are support people for the choppers, or pilots. If the UN sends several hundred Peacekeepers in, they’ll overrun the base.”
“On it,” Rob said. “You guys can help with the messaging.”
{ 15 }
Rooftop TV
S econd Lieutenant Whitaker watched the perimeter of his base on security video. Sergeant Haley came in.
“Haley, the birds ready to fly?”
“Yes sir, and we’ve got spotters out on the incoming roads, watching for the UN.”
“Any of our soldiers having a problem with this?”
“No sir, most of them think like me,” Haley said.
“And how is that?”
“It’s about time, sir.”
Whitaker chuckled. “Yes, it is about time. Who’s the best computer person you got?”
“What kind of computer? Hardware, for the birds?”
“No, social media, hacking, that sort of thing.”
“Oh. That would be Private Burr.”
“Send him over here. He can use Sibelius’s PC. Derrick is lighting up social media. We’ll probably have armed citizens showing up. We need to know what they’re doing, when they’re coming, and we need to answer questions too.”
“Yes sir, good call sir.”
Whitaker laughed. “You can drop all the sir stuff.”
“Yes sir,” Haley said. He shook his head and laughed. “Sorry.”
“Get Burr over here fast. I think we’re gonna be in the shit before long.”
Haley nodded, leaving the room. Whitaker went back to the surveillance video. Nothing yet. He sat, picking up his water bottle, taking a big swig, then going out to the window, looking at the two rows of Apaches sitting there, the crews loading them with weapons. “Glad the UN is almost a half-hour away.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Whitaker turned, seeing Private Burr standing there with a grin on his face. He was young, lanky, with a tight brown buzz cut and a mischievous look.
“Ah, thanks for getting over here so fast. Use the PC in Sibelius’s office.”
“I brought my laptop, already have a lot of useful hacking stuff on it. Mind if I use that instead?”
“No, of course not, just plug in at Sibelius’s desk.”
“Thank you, sir,” Burr said. He went into the office and set up.
“You know where to start?” Whitaker asked.
“Yeah, the Sons of Liberty site. It’s the one that’s been publishing Craig Smetana and John Clancy stuff. Big clearing house for the resistance.”
“You must have been upset about the situation at this base.”
“I almost took off with Derrick.”
“Oh, you two know each other?”
“Yeah, he was my Sergeant,” Burr said. “He’s a good man.”
“I agree.” Whitaker left Burr to his work, going back to the window, watching the Apache teams get ready.
“Wow,” Burr said. “This is gonna be big. Lots of people coming. We’ll have civilians showing up before the UN gets here, that’s for sure.”
“Good. Hope we don’t end up getting a lot of them killed.”
“Derrick’s team iced all three traitors, didn’t they?”
“Yeah. Jerry was yesterday. Clinton and Sibelius tonight.”
“Somebody snapped a shot of Clinton and put it in the thread. He’s looked better. Something big hit him in the head.”
“What a shame,” Whitaker said, both men laughing. “Derrick had a couple M60s.”
“Holy crap, no wonder. Wish we had some of those.”
“Hey, tell the civilians to get into the woods around the base,” Whitaker said. “We don’t want them on the road when we’re using the choppers on the first UN vehicles.”
“Okay, I’ll pass the word. Oh, Derrick is on here.”
“Good, they’re back from their operation safe and sound,” Whitaker said.
“Okay, those instructions are on this site. I’d better do the same on all the other sites. The enemy is gonna see this, you know.”
“No problem. They might not even show up, which would be optimal, frankly.”
“What about the dirty parts of the Army?”
“I’m already working on that problem, Burr. That’s all I’ll say for now.”
***
Janey woke up, the truck still rolling. She climbed out of the sleeper, into the seat. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” Glenn said, glancing over at her. “You only slept for a couple hours.”
“I did get some sleep the night before. See any more roadblocks?”
“Not out here, but I’m a little worried about Quebec. Why do you want to go there, anyway?”
“My mom used to work in the news business. She gave me names of a few people I can trust. I want to get my story to the press. I’m hoping if I do that, the Canadian government won’t ignore the fact that the UN is attacking the United States from its territory.”
“Half the US government is dirty too, you know. They’ve got a full-scale civil war going on down there, on top of the invasions. President Simpson got arrested a couple days ago.”
“He did?”
“Yep, while trying to escape. They nabbed him in Missoula.”
“That’s Montana, isn’t it?”
“Yep. Don’t know what’s gonna happen to him. It’s treason. He was in on the invasion and the bombings. They’ll probably execute him.”
“He was in on the bombings?” Janey asked. “Really?”
“That’s what they’re saying. Came out in emails that some patriot leaked to the press. His whole administration was in on it.”
“How far are we from Quebec?”
“Five and a half hours, give or take,” he said. “Assuming no problems.”
“Will you get any warning about roadblocks?”
“When we get closer, I can get on the web with my phone or my iPad.”
“Oh.”
“Why don’t you tell me your story? We’ve got time.”
“Okay.” She told him everything over the next hour, from the night of the party with Mateo and Dupont through the time she climbed into his cab.
