Fire From the Sky: Firestorm Read online

  FIRE FROM

  THE SKY

  BOOK FOUR

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  FIRE FROM THE SKY: BOOK 4: FIRESTORM

  by N.C. REED

  Published by Creative Texts Publishers

  PO Box 50

  Barto, PA 1950

  www.creativetexts.com

  Copyright 2018 by N.C. REED

  All rights reserved

  Cover photos used by license.

  Design copyright 2018 Creative Texts Publishers, LLC

  The Fire From the Sky Logo is a trademark of Creative Texts Publishers, LLC

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual names, persons, businesses, and incidents is strictly coincidental. Locations are used only in the general sense and do not represent the real place in actuality.

  Kindle Edition

  FIRE FROM

  THE SKY

  BOOK four

  N.C. Reed

  For the Ranger, the Clerk, and the Chef.

  Until we see each other again, you live on in my heart.

  For my wife and nephew, who are always my sounding boards.

  For those who will always fight for those who cannot fight for themselves...

  In times of trial, there will always come a time when a man must choose.

  Will he put the needs of his family ahead of the needs of others? Or will he risk his family in order to aid others who are not his responsibility.

  In times of great trial there can sometimes seem to be no right answer. Sometimes it seems that every answer is wrong, at least in someone's eyes if not your own.

  But for those who love their family and are determined to protect them, no sacrifice will ever be considered too great. No risk to that family will ever be deemed acceptable.

  And those are the families that survive even the worst that the world throws at them.

  CHAPTER ONE

  -

  “Convoy now 1 Kay Mike and closing at about 20,” Jody called. The vehicles were now roughly one thousand meters away and approaching at an estimated twenty kilometers per hour.

  “Roger that,” Clay replied. “Call it off,” he ordered.

  Quickly and efficiently the soldiers, new and old alike, rattled off their team names, verifying that they were in position. Kade and Corey were hotfooting it to the cabin area, commonly called 'town', to back up the people on guard there. Zach and Gordy were on the watch around the Sanders' homes along with Mitchell Nolan and Clay. Abigail, having yet to complete her training, was covering from inside their house.

  Jody Thompson was inside the cupola on watch and Heath Kelly was atop the rugged tower behind Gordon and Angela's house. Tandi, Nate, and Vicki were at the Troy farm, and Jose and Titus were covering from the bush between the two homes.

  “Stand by,” Clay called when everyone had answered. “They may not be here for trouble and might have come to trade.”

  No one believed that for a minute but didn't bother to state the obvious over the radio. The older soldiers knew when to clown and when not, and the younger ones were still too new to know you could use the radio to clown around on occasion.

  “Five Cee Mikes and still closing,” Jody reported. Five hundred meters. No one said anything. There was nothing to say or do, just to wait for the vehicles to reach them. When they did, they would either pass by, or stop. No one expected them to pass by.

  Which left them waiting to see what they would do when they stopped.

  “Everyone go silent,” Clay ordered in case anyone wasn't using their ear mike. No one acknowledged an order like that so the radio remained silent.

  “Slowing,” Jody reported. “Six visible in first truck, five in the second. All carrying long arms. Most seem to be wearing dark colors but I can't see a discernible uniform.”

  “Copy that,” Clay replied. He was standing out front with Gordy behind him and to the left, positioned to protect Gordon and Angela's home. Nolan was further to Clay's left, almost to the cut and in the brush. Zach was in the hide to the far right, where Clay had been for his role against the Peyton Posse.

  “They're definitely slowing, preparing to stop. Out.” Unless Clay asked for information, Jody wouldn't report anymore unless there was a change in the approaching target or another problem arose.

  Clay could see them now, along the road. With leaf cover still a few weeks away, visibility was higher than usual. The two trucks in front were indeed older models. Clay recognized an eighty-two model Chevrolet, and a seventy-nine Ford. The car was a huge Lincoln Continental, likely a seventy-four or so, Clay guessed, with a tacky maroon paint job.

  The two trucks were both run of the mill Freightliners, but older. The kind of trucks that would haul saw dust and wood chips to the paper mill. Past their prime but still running.

  The van looked like an old work van, white and with a storage rack still on top, complete with a large plastic storage pipe down one side of the roof rack.

  “Well this is gonna be a cluster,” he heard Nolan mutter and nodded without replying. He was right.

  The vehicles came to a stop, air releasing from the brakes on the two semi-trucks. As soon as they came to a stop the men in the back of the trucks began to dismount. Unlike the previous visit from Peyton's posse, this bunch at least showed some discipline, forming into two groups of five while the last man walked toward the car. When he got there, he opened the rear door.

  “Van is dismounting another five, all with long arms,” Jody's voice was soft in Clay's ear. “Driver is still inside. No sign of crew served or other heavy weapons so far.” Clay clicked his mike twice to answer rather than reply out loud.

  A man was exiting the big Continental's open door. He was tall and slender, dressed much nicer than the others who were just wearing casual work uniforms for the most part. A few wore jeans but had matching shirts. The man out of the car, though, was wearing a suit, complete with vest and tie. He carried what looked like a clipboard with him. He looked around him, nodding to himself as if he had heard the answer to some silent question. Finally spotting Clay he began walking toward him with purposeful steps.

  “Are you Gordon Sanders?” the man demanded.

  “Who the hell are you?” Clay asked rather than reply. “And you can just stop right there,” he said to the men who were beginning to follow the dandy in the suit. “You're trespassing.”

  “I don't think you understand, boy,” the man in the suit smirked. “I represent the Citizen's Committee for Reconstruction. We have the authority to go anywhere we need to in order to assess taxes.”

  “Say what now?” Clay knew his face looked incredulous.

  “I said I represent the Citizen's Committee for Reconstruction,” the man seemed to take relish in repeating it.

  “And I'm here to collect your taxes.”

  “Here to collect our taxes?” Clay repeated. “I said that's far enough,” he told the still advancing men “you're trespassing and that's your last warning. Next will be one of you being shot.”

  “Don't threaten my men,” the suit said. “We're the authority out here now. I want to speak to Gordon Sanders, and I know you ain't him.”

  “And just who are you when you're at ho
me?” Clay demanded. “And how is it you figure you got any authority to do a damn thing out here?”

  “My name is Darnell Autry. You'd do well to remember that,” the man drew himself up as tall as he could. “I've been appointed as tax collector for this area,”

  “Uh huh,” Clay grunted. “And just who is it that appointed you?”

  “The members of the Committee,” Autry replied.

  “What committee?” Clay demanded.

  “There was an election recently in Peabody,” Autry informed him. “The members of the Committee are now running things in Peabody.”

  “Well, that's fine and dandy for Peabody and good for them. How do you figure that stretches way the hell out here?” Clay winced at how much he sounded like Leon.

  “The Committee runs the entire county now,” Autry replied.

  “Yeah, well, since we wasn't part of the election, I don't see us being part of your committee's little tea party so, you need to load all this up,” he waved toward the procession Autry had arrived with, “and get the hell on back to whatever rock you crawled out from under.”

  God help me, I'm becoming Leon, Clay thought to himself even as he finished speaking.

  “You got this all wrong, hick,” Autry declared, his face the smug look of someone who thought he had power over others. “You got no say in this, understand? You people living out here high on the hog while the rest starve? That's coming to an end. And you wasn't in the election cause you don't get a vote, see? That was strictly for the folks in town that managed to survive the winter. Now the first thing we're gonna do is load that cattle trailer with cows from this ranch. I was gonna let you pick 'em but after all this attitude I’ll just take the best and leave the rest for next time. After that we’ll inspect all these buildings and see what you got hid out in there. You can keep a three-day supply of food here and apply for a ration book in Peabody to draw rations every day,” he smiled thinly.

  “And just how do you expect us to get to Peabody every day?” Clay asked.

  “That ain't my problem, it's yours,” Autry shrugged. “Now you need to get Gordon Sanders out here to face me.”

  “Well, your problem is that we ain't giving you a damn thing,” Clay replied. “Now I'll give you one more chance to load up and go. Now.”

  “You still don't get it, do you?” Autry squared up against the larger Clay. “You don't get to refuse. And if you keep getting in the way or giving me a hard time, there's plenty more we can take before we're done. I imagine you got a few women around here, don't you? In fact, I know you do since I knew this bunch before everything turned off, aside from you, anyway. So, you stand aside like a good boy and let us take what we want and maybe I won't take the-”

  “Don't say I didn't warn you,” Clay's voice had gone flat. Even as Autry continued to inform him of what was going to happen, Clay raised his rifle and fired one round, taking Autry between the eyes. He died with his smugly superior look frozen on his face, mouth still working as if to continue his speech.

  “Take 'em!” Clay shouted even as he dove for the same flower bed that had shielded him during the posse firefight.

  Rifles cracked from a dozen places around the farm, followed by two louder reports as Jody and Heath joined in. The few 'law' men in the group that hadn't been dropped in that first volley were still in shock over the loss of their boss and then their comrades. Some tried to run while others tried to find cover. While they had shown a little discipline and training earlier, none of them were trained much further than that and it became apparent that they had depended on numbers.

  Numbers were not enough this time. Thirty seconds after Clay fired the first shot the shooting was over.

  And a war had likely begun.

  –

  “I love this flower bed,” Clay patted the heavy wood as he climbed to his feet. “Good old flower bed,” he nodded. “Solid and dependable.”

  “Like a rock?” Mitch Nolan asked as he walked up, rifle still up looking for any threat.

  “Yeah,” Clay nodded firmly. “Like a rock. Let’s get a Tango check.”

  “Wanna question any of 'em?” Mitchell asked.

  “I don't see why,” Clay shook his head. “And this one,” he kicked Autry's body, “would have been the one to know anything.”

  “And you went and killed him,” Mitchell nodded. “You got to stop overreacting, Bossman.”

  “I know,” Clay sighed again, surprising Nolan, who had been joking. “I just got mad.”

  “Well, he had that kind of face,” Nolan agreed.

  “I guess you want the backhoe?” Gordy asked, he and Zach moving to join the two older men.

  “Yeah,” Clay replied. “Why don't you get it and we'll spare Ronny all this glory.”

  “Got it,” Gordy nodded and moved off to follow his orders.

  “Go with him, Zach, and ride cover,” Clay added. The teen nodded by way of reply and hurried to catch his friend.

  “CCR,” Nolan shook his head slowly. “They need to shoot whoever came up with that name. How the hell do you expect to be taken seriously as strongarm bandits with a name like that?”

  –

  “Darnell Autry,” Gordon said softly, shaking his head. “Another that was never much good for anything. And that's Pete Hankins,” he pointed to another. “Lester Worley,” he continued down the line. “And Bridger Smith,” he pointed to the last one. “I recognize some of the others but don't know them. Just seen them in town a time or two. But this bunch,” he indicated those whose name he had called, “they're scum, and that's a borderline insult to scum.”

  “Well I am shocked, shocked I tell you, to discover such as these roaming the area and stealing whatever they can get their hands on,” Mitchell Nolan offered his best Captain Renault impression.

  “He's only a poor corrupt official,” Tandi Maseo nodded, looking down at Autry's body.

  “Enough,” Clay groaned. “We got some major cleanup to do, but first have Kade and Corey send the family heads down. They may know more of this bunch, and that might give us a clue who's running things.”

  –

  Josh Webb added two names to their list, Franklin George one. The others offered three between them, one of which Gordon had already identified. None of those names gave a hint as to who was in charge.

  “Well, it was a thought,” Clay said at last. “Gordy, take 'em on away.” The younger Sanders nodded and steered the backhoe out of the yard and toward the far end of their ranch area, which was starting to get a real workout.

  “We can't catch a damn break with a dip net,” Clay rubbed his hair as he spoke. “Whoever is running things will know where that bunch was going and be looking for 'em to come back. When they don't, that will lead 'em straight to us.”

  “Maybe not,” Nolan shrugged. “They might have had other stops to make as well,” he pointed out.

  “So long as we're on that list, they will eventually come here,” Clay shook his head. “We've got however long it takes for that to happen to get ready. Not a second longer.”

  “Well, if this bunch was anything to go by, I can't see the problem,” Nate Caudell said, shrugging. “Let 'em come.”

  “This ain't the bush, Nate,” Tandi spoke before Clay could. “We can't just run around killing everyone and ignoring anything we don't like. We have to live here.”

  “We can live here fine so long as they're all dead,” Nate replied. For him it was that simple. In truth, it was that simple for all of them until they started factoring in the other people living on the farm. Some of whom they were more than responsible for.

  “We can expect another visit from this bunch of assholes,” Clay declared. “Watches are already doubled thanks to that mess they found at the forestry station. We've had few quiet days since the fire and that may be all we get.” He paused for a minute, mind running through his options. Suddenly he seemed to brighten the slightest bit.

  “Gordy?” he keyed his radio.

  “G
o,” came the short reply.

  “Bring 'em back,” Clay ordered. “I got an idea that will buy us some time.”

  “Misdirection?” Mitch Nolan asked.

  “Misdirection,” Clay nodded. “Get a team together and start getting these vehicles ready to move,” he pointed to the small convoy that had brought their attackers to the farm. “Time is money, so let’s get moving.”

  –

  “Take the long way around,” Clay instructed as Mitchell and his selected help prepared to move out. “Don't take too long, either. We don't know who else is out there working for this same outfit.”

  “Want us to bring them back down this way once we hit the Interstate?” Mitch asked.

  “No, just aim them this way and that will be good enough,” Clay replied, thinking things out. “People coming straight from Peabody will usually hit the Interstate up that way and come south. It’ll work.”

  “Got it, Bossman,” Nolan nodded and turned to his group. “Load 'em up!” he spun his hand in the air.

  Clay watched the group depart before turning to the rest of the people he had collected.

  “Okay, we need to do several things today. We need to check our inventory and prepare to establish a defensive perimeter in depth around the farm. We need to establish hard points where we can mount crew served weapons and stash other supplies and weapons for back up. Those weapons will have to be secured and the holes firmed up, hardened and covered. Nate, Ronny” he looked at the two, “I want you to grab a couple others to help you and start laying out the holes we need and get them dug. Mister Webb, we're going to need a lot of logs cut and ready for use to line the holes with. We don't have any concrete, but a good six or eight-inch pine log is a good bullet stop. I'd ask you to head up that group.”

  “We’ll get on it,” Webb promised.

  “Tandi, you take the inventory,” Clay continued. “Get the Duo on that too and let them get everything down so we can move what we need to. And we need to move everything around so that we don't have all of anything in one place. Bear told me when you got here you had Claymores?”