Reclamation (Best Laid Plans Book 4) (29 page)

At the crack of dawn that day Davis had sent Matt and his team to Cedar Creek Canyon, the one just north of the canyon Highway 31 ran through, to double check the spot they'd scouted out as an ideal place to plant explosives.

It was in a narrow part of the canyon where the slopes to either side were almost steep enough to be considered cliffs. A particularly rocky stretch along the southern slope seemed like a perfect spot to bring the hillside down, which would completely block off the canyon from vehicles and make even trying to get by on foot a nightmare.

Especially with a squad of fighters up there in already prepared emplacements gunning down anyone who tried.

His team returned to camp in time for lunch, with Matt satisfied that a demolitions team could seal off the canyon with a relatively small blast. Once they actually arrived and placed those explosives. The Marine who'd gone with them to check the spot agreed and went off to report to Davis, while the rest of the team headed for the Aspen Hill camp to wash up from a morning spent climbing.

Matt was hungry enough that he only took the time to wash his hands and shuck his dusty jacket before heading to the mess tent. Without even that light layer of clothing, the chill wind blowing across his skin served as an unpleasant reminder that summer was nearly here and the weather wasn't getting much warmer. In fact, on some days it was actually getting
colder
.

With a shudder he increased his pace, nearly trotting the last dozen steps to the tent. He preferred not to contemplate the inevitable cold in the autumn months, when they'd have a new understanding of the term “nuclear winter”. Anyway he had something better to occupy his thoughts; the prospect of news was almost as big a lure as the food, and he was eager to hear what was happening in Colorado.

When he ducked into the tent he saw he wouldn't be disappointed. It was mostly full with everyone in camp at the moment, most still just getting started eating their meal. Oddly enough the table with the radio had only a few people around it, while a slightly larger crowd had gathered at another table where a rugged looking laptop was flipped open playing a video.

He stopped halfway inside the tent, staring. The thought of this camp having internet was nothing short of ludicrous, so it had to be on the hard disk or a DVD. It showed a view of Earth from orbit, looking down on Asia and part of the Pacific Ocean. As Matt watched a tiny star burst into light on the continent below, then another, then dozens more in rapid succession.

Matt made his way over to join the crowd. “Is that a recording?” he asked a soldier near the back.

The man nodded. “Transmitted from Great Britain. They're hurting bad, but from what I hear they're the closest thing left to a first world nation. Our headquarters picked up this feed from one of their satellites, and a scouting patrol passing by yesterday evening dropped it off for us. Davis gave us permission to watch an hour or so ago, and the ten minute footage has been on replay ever since. This is my first chance to see it.”

The soldier turned his attention back to the screen, and Matt joined him. Together they watched as the mushroom clouds bloomed on the continent below. Even from orbit they were clearly visible, and somehow more horrific for the sterility of distance and complete silence. It was hard to believe each one potentially represented millions of deaths.

Matt had seen this sort of visual representation of nuclear war seen from space in movies and games, and the similarity they shared to what he was seeing now made it all eerily surreal. As if it wasn't hard enough to accept the reality of the Retaliation sometimes.

He looked away, feeling sick. In a hundred years this satellite footage would probably be aired in schools the world over in memory of humanity's greatest tragedy, assuming the technology still existed at that point. And to the kids watching it might not have much more meaning than some movie. But for him, right now, it was too painful to watch the recording of so many lives snuffed out.

Turning away from the small screen, Matt continued on to the front of the mess tent to retrieve his meal, planning to join a few other volunteers from Aspen Hill at the table they'd found near the radio.

As he waited in line he abruptly noticed the somber, tense mood in the tent, and realized with a start that it probably wasn't from the satellite footage of the Retaliation. From what he could see less than half the people in the cramped space were watching the video or even seemed to notice it, and those who weren't were huddled in small groups talking worriedly.

He'd been so intent on the video himself he hadn't realized that it wasn't drawing the crowds it should've for a new tidbit of news and information. An hour wasn't long enough for interest to die out that completely, which meant some even more important news had drawn everyone's attention.

Matt hesitated near a table with an open space where one of those groups had gathered. In spite of Davis's efforts to foster cooperation between his Marines and the irregulars, a few of the soldiers were a bit contemptuous of the volunteers, even hostile. But Matt had worked with all of the men at this table, and for the most part they were pretty easygoing.

“Hey,” he said. As a few looked up he motioned towards the empty seat with his tray.

The man sitting closest on the bench, a short, scrawny guy named Abrams, obligingly moved over a bit. “Have a seat, Larson.”

“Thanks.” Matt settled in, taking a mouthful of barely appetizing pudding as the other soldiers got back to their food. “What's going on?”

Abrams had mostly emptied his tray and didn't look interested in what was left, so he didn't seem to mind answering. “We just got word from Denver. General Erikson is pulling out.”

Matt paused with a second bite halfway to his mouth. “The blockheads pushed him out of the city?” he asked in disbelief. Denver was Erikson's main staging area, so losing it meant a major defeat. “I didn't know the fighting had got that bad.”

The scrawny soldier made an impatient gesture. “Not out of Denver. Our people in Colorado are pulling out entirely, abandoning the eastern arm of the Rockies and coming to join us in Utah. The only ones staying behind are a few Special Operations Forces teams, who are going to destroy every road and block every pass they can, then operate out of the high mountains doing as much damage as possible to blockheads moving through the area.”

Matt tried to digest that news. “I thought the entire point of locating here was to hold both arms of the Rockies.”

A solder down the table who Matt didn't recognize snorted. “Maybe they figured we don't have enough people to hold that much territory. Or maybe the blockheads won a victory no one's telling us about. Either way the higher ups are leaving Colorado to the Gold Bloc, which means we'll be seeing action a lot sooner than any of us expected.”

No kidding. Without the buffer in the Colorado Rockies the Gold Bloc could push right through to the Utah Rockies and attack them from this side. Which meant the enemy would probably try to come up Highway 31, Cedar Creek Canyon not too far north, Aspen Hill Canyon back home, Highway 6, and every single other road leading up into the mountains from the eastern side.

Matt had expected that he and the other volunteers to be well away from the action, with most of the fighting over on the west side of the mountains or in the Colorado Rockies hundreds of miles away. Sure, he'd accepted that eventually they'd probably see some fighting here, too, but not any time soon and only if things went wrong somewhere else.

Only now Erikson was leaving the door wide open and letting the blockheads waltz right to them. They were about to be at the front in a war zone.

Then a frightening thought struck him. If these mountains were going to be the only place the military defended, holding the line between I-70 and I-80, that meant that all the towns east of here were no longer safe. Including Aspen Hill.

“Have the towns between here and Denver been warned?” he asked.

The soldier down the table shrugged disinterestedly. “Probably. If they haven't they're hosed.”

Abrams shot his squad mate a dirty look. “Come on, man. The guy's got family out there.” The other man had the grace to look embarrassed.

Matt clapped the scrawny soldier on the shoulder as he stood, picking up his tray. “Thanks. I should go let my people know.”

A few of the soldiers offered goodbyes as he walked away. “Keep your gun close!” Abrams called. “You'll probably be using it before too much longer.”

When Matt got to his table he learned that his squad mates there had already heard about Erikson abandoning the Colorado Rockies, and were in the middle of discussing the ramifications. Since he was still reeling from the news himself he used his food as an excuse to withdraw from the conversation and sink into his own thoughts.

Erikson had spent over a month preparing those defenses around Denver, and had already fought several bitter skirmishes to hold them. From everything Matt had heard those skirmishes had overwhelmingly favored the US forces, and the blockheads were nowhere close to dislodging them from those mountains.

So why had the General abandoned his position all of the sudden? There had to be a reason, and Matt seriously doubted it involved good news.

“We need to get word to Aspen Hill and the other towns in the area,” he abruptly said, interrupting the conversation his squad had been having, which had turned to a recent skirmish near Cheyenne along I-80, and its possible relation to Erikson's decision to pull out.

His friends looked at each other. “I'm sure the military's thought of warning everyone,” Rick said.

Matt shrugged. “Probably. We should still do it ourselves, just in case. If nothing else we can send along details they might not get otherwise, and it'll be a good chance to relay some personal messages to family too.”

Before anyone could answer a commotion outside drew the attention of everyone in the mess tent: the sound of an approaching truck engine, which was finally loud enough to pierce the din of dozens of people eating and talking, as well as yelled greetings from the sentries on duty. Soon afterwards the truck began honking.

Most of the fighters around him abandoned their meals to go see what was going on, and Matt left his half-empty plate behind as well to join them. When he followed the crowd outside he saw a military truck pulling into camp, still honking. As soon as it screeched to a halt the soldiers in the cab hopped out, and Matt was startled to recognize Corporal Williams as the man who'd been in the passenger seat.

Williams immediately made a beeline for the command tent, where Davis was waiting for him. The two pushed inside, leaving the rest of the soldiers who'd arrived in the truck to be mobbed by the curious denizens of the camp. The Marines returned the friendly greeting, and didn't seem to mind sharing what their visit was about.

A demolitions specialist team had finally been sent their way, along with enough high explosives to fill the truck. Williams was in charge of the squad escorting them, and once they finished planting their charges on all the roads from here to Aspen Hill Canyon the corporal had orders to remain behind under Davis's command, to help hold the roads on the eastern side of the mountains.

The reinforcements also sent along word that more volunteers would be heading their way as soon as they could hike the distance from one of Lassiter's camps to the north. Matt liked the thought of extra help, considering that they'd soon be facing hundreds of thousands of blockheads pouring in from the east, but from the sounds of it the General was only sending another few dozen people their way.

That really didn't feel like enough, whatever Davis's assurances of a squad being able to hold one of these canyons against an army.

After about fifteen minutes of waiting around chatting with the newly arrived Marines Davis burst out of the command tent, Williams on his heels. “All right, people!” he shouted. “Time to stop slacking and really get to work!”

Matt bit back a groan. Nobody would call what they'd been doing “slacking” by any stretch of the imagination. Truthfully though he wasn't too inclined to complain, since it was a bit of a relief to see the sergeant looking confident and full of purpose in spite of the situation.

In short order the volunteers had been split up and assigned to make new camps along every canyon road between here and Aspen Hill, with Trev's squad posted in Cedar Creek Canyon just above the spot Matt's team had greenlighted for the demolitions team that morning.

All aside from Matt's squad, that was. They were going to be posted along Highway 31 with the two squads of Marines, in a new camp farther up the road that was well above the rocky slope Davis had decided was the best spot for taking out the road. At least that they were going to find that close to the canyon mouth. Matt had mixed feelings about the assignment, since it meant his people were going to be at the most dangerous location. But on the plus side they'd also be working with the trained soldiers.

Within ten minutes the camp was a whirlwind of activity as all the tents were taken down and people began packing up to relocate to their assigned spots. Since the trucks would need to move anyway Matt's squad was given permission to load their things into one, along with the bulk of the camp's supplies. It would save a bit of time and effort, which was nice.

Matt was in the middle of supervising the loading when Williams walked up. “Our demolitions guys' first stop is Aspen Hill,” he said without preamble. “Your town agreed to hold that canyon, but we still need to help them rig the road to be destroyed if necessary.”

“We'd appreciate the help,” Matt agreed. “Want me to ride along? I'd like to alert the town to what's going on with Erikson's withdrawal. The sooner they start evacuating the better.”

The corporal shrugged. “Probably a good idea. We'll be leaving soon.”

“Right.” Matt turned to Rick. “Get our people set up in the new camp and going on whatever work Davis has in mind for us.”

His friend nodded, clapping him on the shoulder. “Got it. Give my family my love.”