Shortage (Best Laid Plans Book 2) (38 page)

Matt nodded. “Ferris knows the storehouse is where we keep everything, so that'll probably be his target. We can finish emptying it out and set up a nasty surprise for him there.” He turned to the cousins. “Can you get started on those molotov cocktails?”

Trev started to nod, but Lewis spoke up quickly. “I'd like to do some recon on wherever Ferris has his convoy parked, see where they've set up and maybe try to figure out what they're planning from their behavior.”

“Good idea. Trev?”

“Got it.” Trev said. “Maybe I can borrow some of the people who were going to be heading up the canyon? Also we're going to need those canning jars everyone's been gathering.” There were some protests at that and he nodded. “I know we need them for harvest, but we need them for this more.”

A sudden thought occurred to Matt, and he took his friend aside a short ways. “You were about to leave.”

Trev looked at him like he was crazy. “I'm not leaving while the town's under attack! I have as much to defend here as anyone.” His friend clapped him on the shoulder and started past him. “I'll go get started on the cocktails.”

Matt nodded, turning to everyone. “All right then. Let's get ready to defend our home.”

Chapter Eighteen

Rash Action

They could probably have mounted the gasoline tank on a wagon and pulled it into town to make the cocktails, but since they already had the bottles and wagons they needed there was no reason not to do it at the shelter, with a radio handy to warn of any approaching danger.

Trev had April, in the process of packing up her family and as many belongings as they could manage in their wagon, pause for a moment to run in and grab one of the sheets. In the meantime he got to work pouring gasoline into one jar after another from the nozzle at the base of the tank, which was stood up about two feet off the ground on four sturdy interconnected legs for just that purpose. They were using pickle, peanut butter, and other assorted lower quality jars in lieu of the precious canning jars, although it had been difficult to find as many as they needed.

As he worked he passed the jars to the few volunteers who'd come with him, mostly the more halfhearted people who'd manned the roadblocks. The people who considered themselves defenders of the town and wanted to help out, but weren't very good with weapons or eager to join the fighting. Alice was with them, looking sad and subdued but much healthier than she had when he first saw her weeks ago.

He wasn't sure exactly how to make a molotov, but he figured cutting a hole in the lid of each jar and stuffing a cut off strip of cloth from the sheet down into it would do the job. It wasn't exactly rocket science.

It took them a bit of time to get over a hundred of the firebombs made with the gas they had, and longer still to get them loaded into the wagons safely wrapped in cloth cut from more sheets out of the shelter. Trev hoped there'd be replacements or Lewis and the Larson clan were going to be pretty irritated at him. Between all that, how long it took them to get everything organized and get out to the shelter in the first place, and the even longer time to cart the cocktails back to town moving slowly to avoid even the chance of breaking the jars, he figured they'd been gone about four hours.

The sun was sinking low over the horizon by the time he and the others reached Main Street with their wagons full of molotov cocktails, reeking slightly from the gasoline they'd handled. When they did they found the town a much changed place.

All the useless cars that had become almost fixtures, parked along the sides of roads or in driveways for months, were now pulled strategically across certain streets to block access. Tack strips made of nails and screws punched through lengths of rope had been tied tightly between street lamps along Main, and in the windows of almost every building he saw familiar faces holding rifles, many with scopes, ready to fire down on any attacker.

He found Matt in front of Tillman's, organizing his main ambush there, and learned from his friend that every single person in each building had been instructed to find two escape routes taking them out on different sides that they could use if the soldiers they were firing at decided to storm their building after them.

“Want me to find a window, too?” he asked as Matt began handing out molotov cocktails and lighters to the young men of the town. Their job was to wait on the top stories or even the roofs of buildings until the firefight started, then lob the firebombs at Ferris's vehicles. That would hopefully be a safer task than being part of the firefight itself, since the soldiers would be distracted by incoming fire. Matt had carefully instructed them about staying out of sight and only lighting the rags on their cocktails at the last second so the light wouldn't draw attention to them until it was too late. After that their only other job was to flee to safety along their own established escape routes.

Matt shook his head. “I want you with me at Roadblock 1 in case Ferris tries anything right then and there. We'll take some molotov cocktails to distribute to the positions up there.”

Trev waited as his friend finished organizing the few groups remaining outside the former storehouse, then followed him up the street pulling his wagon with the last of the cocktails. “Any word from Lewis?”

“Regularly,” his friend said. “Ferris's convoy is parked about a mile up the road. All vehicles and raiders are accounted for, assuming a few didn't sneak away before your cousin got in position, and they haven't moved this entire time. They're waiting for the deadline.”

“I guess we are too, with most of the preparations complete,” Trev said, looking around. “All the noncombatants safe in the canyon?”

Matt nodded, the frown he'd worn since Trev first saw him deepening slightly. His friend's mom, wife, sister, and nephews were there, which was reason enough to worry. “The Mayor's there keeping everyone organized, as well as for her own safety. We've got a dozen men watching the mouth, and I sent a few molotovs up there just in case. They've got tack strips they can drag across the road between trees if they see anyone coming, and Jane's there with our only .50 cal rifle ready to try to shoot the engine block of any vehicle that approaches. It'll have to be enough, but for now we hope their focus is on the town.”

“And our crops?” Trev asked.

His friend's frown deepened again. “A half dozen snipers in spots nearby, where they can guard the south border of town and the gardens both. I've ordered everyone to stay clear of the area, and the snipers have orders to shoot anyone who comes within 50 feet of the gardens. I've also got a man farther out to give advance warning.”

Trev nodded and fell silent, the only sound the creak of the wagon behind him and the soft clink of bottles knocking together through their cloth wrappings. He glanced at the small group of people following close behind, armed and grim faced, ready to defend their homes and their lives. “Do you think we can win?”

Matt snorted. “Not a fan of that question. You know what we're up against. We've planned a good defense but things can always go wrong, especially against a well equipped enemy that knows what they're doing. We'll just have to hope our people shoot good and the enemy isn't ready for us.”

“At least we've got numbers and the ground advantage,” Trev said. But he had to fight down the nagging worry that they might lose a whole lot of friends tonight.

They reached the roadblock and Matt made a few last minute preparations organizing the defenses there. While he was doing that Trev hopped up onto the roof of a car and looked down the road, hoping for a glimpse of Ferris's convoy even though he knew he wouldn't get one. There was a fairly tall hill between the roadblock and where Lewis had said the trucks were parked.

He hoped his cousin was okay.

Then, aside from quiet voices on their turned down radios as people checked in, they waited in silence as the sun sank towards the horizon.

* * * * *

As the top of its fiery rim dropped below the mountains to the west Matt's radio crackled and Catherine Tillman spoke. “That's six hours, near enough. He was probably measuring it by sundown too. I wish I could be with you there, but little as I like it the arguments for me staying to organize the noncombatants were persuasive. I leave the town's defense in your care, and pray everyone will be ready for-”

Her impromptu speech was abruptly interrupted by a trilling call from another radio. “There's movement here,” Lewis whispered as the Mayor fell quiet. “Ferris has gotten into the lead truck with Turner on the .50 cal and they're headed your way.”

Matt lifted his radio to respond.“The whole convoy?”

“No. Sorry, that was a bit vague. Just that one truck. Looks like Ferris is going to see the town's response before doing anything else.” There was a brief pause. “I'm going to stick around here so I can give warning if the rest of the convoy unexpectedly moves.”

“I authorize you to speak on behalf of the town, Matt,” Catherine said once she was sure Lewis was done talking. “Aspen Hill's defense is in your care.”

Matt nodded and pushed the talk button again. “Okay everyone, this is it. Do your jobs and be careful.”

Over the chorus of affirmatives he heard the deep rumble of the approaching truck. It sped into view not long afterwards, but braked suddenly with a squeal of tires far enough away to make even a shouted conversation impossible.

Ferris once again popped out behind the passenger side door with the megaphone. “I don't see any goodies piled up outside the roadblock,” he said, and at that distance his words were hard to make out even with the electronic aid. “If you're late to comply you've got ten seconds to let me know. Then we do this the hard way.”

There was no way Matt could shout a response from so far away, and anyway they had nothing to say that the bureaucrat-turned-raider wanted to hear. So while Ferris casually began counting down Matt lifted his rifle and sighted in on the truck.

He doubted he'd be able to get a good shot off on Ferris, hidden behind the door of a military vehicle, and anyway he didn't really want to shoot the man during what could technically be considered a truce. Instead he moved his crosshairs to the center of the truck's windshield, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger.

His shot ricocheted off the reinforced glass more or less where he'd aimed it, leaving a small spiderweb of cracks. Ferris abruptly stopped counting, turning to look at Matt's reply. Then the megaphone boomed his voice once more. “So that's your answer? I'm disappointed, Larson. You've made the wrong choice. The deaths of hundreds of people will be on your head.”

The raider leader ducked back into his truck and slammed the door, and almost immediately the heavy vehicle peeled out as it flipped an awkward U-turn off the shoulder of the road.

Matt was so busy watching the truck that he almost didn't notice Turner up behind the .50 cal manhandling the big gun to point towards the roadblock. When he finally saw it he barely had time to scream a warning for everyone to get behind cover, even as he leapt off the roadblock and flattened himself on the road behind the piled up debris.

For the second time that day he heard the roar of the mounted gun, but this time it wasn't a demonstration. Over the distant noise of the shots he heard a swift succession of pings like the loudest hailstorm in the world, along with quieter thuds. He raised his head to see sparks flying from the furniture, the cars, and the buildings to either side as the spray of bullets panned over them.

He also heard lots of screaming, and although most of it was terror he had the sick feeling that at least a few voices among the chorus were shouting in pain.

After what seemed like an eternity but couldn't have been longer than ten seconds the spray of gunfire ceased, probably because the truck had gone out of range or the .50 cal couldn't turn enough to point straight backwards.

The radio was going crazy with voices asking what had happened, what was going on. Lewis's was among them. Matt stumbled to his feet and peered cautiously over the roadblock in time to see the taillights of the truck disappear.

He was shaking, and in his shocked state he wasn't sure if it was adrenaline or rage. Turner had shot at them. Shot at them with a big gun intended to inflict as much damage as possible.

“Anyone hurt?” he shouted. There was more than one “yes” answer to that, and he grit his teeth and lifted his radio. “Quiet!” he screamed over the babble on the airwaves. Most of the voices he heard kept talking until he identified himself and yelled for quiet again. “What's happening is that Ferris made it clear he's going to kill us all if he can, and before leaving to get his men he had Turner shoot up Roadblock 1 with his .50 cal to make his point. Terry, I need you here as fast as you can.”

His brother-in-law hastily replied he was on his way, but Matt barely heard it as he spoke again. “Lewis, what's going on?”

His friend was quick to respond. “Ferris is back and from the looks of it the whole convoy is gearing up for an attack. They've-” He cut off, then continued in a different tone. “Matt, we were right to worry about the weaponry they brought with them. With what I see down there they could blast right through the roadblock and blow up any building we tried to snipe at them from. Whatever Ferris's plan is, it's going to be bad for us.”

Matt felt his face pale, and when he replied he did his best to keep his voice from shaking. “Roger that, we'll clear the roadblock.”

There was a long pause before Lewis continued quietly. “Turner fired at you. The gloves are off, right?”

Gritting his teeth, Matt looked towards a clear patch of ground where the town's defenders were gently carrying the wounded. Three people, none fatal but all serious. Getting hit by a bullet that big moving that fast usually was. And if Lewis was right they'd only be the first of many casualties tonight. “Yeah, the gloves are off. Why?”

“I'm going to do what I can to stop the attack, or at least slow it down.”

Matt sucked in a breath. Trev had a lot of faith in his cousin's ability to find answers, and Matt had to admit that some of that faith had rubbed off on him. “Sounds good. What did you have in mind?”

There was no response, but Matt wasn't too bothered by that as he turned his efforts towards seeing the wounded cared for until Terry could arrive, as well as preparing for whatever explosives the raiders had brought with them. Hopefully the silence meant Lewis was concentrating on finding a way to save the town.

In spite of his urgency Matt froze along with everyone else as the distant
crack
of a gunshot sounded. He whipped his head around to look past the roadblock, and most of the people around him followed his gaze. They waited in tense silence for a moment, their radios buzzing with questions. He was reaching for his radio to tell everyone to calm down when he was interrupted by another sharp
crack
, then with less of a delay this time a third.