Fire From the Sky: Firestorm Read online

  –

  Corey would be down for at least two weeks with the wound to his right arm. While it had missed his shoulder, sparing him any permanent damage, he would still have a large scar and would probably hurt for several weeks. While he wouldn't likely need any rehabilitation, he would not be able to use his arm effectively for some time, perhaps as long as two months. He would also bear permanent scars on his face, neck and shoulders from the splinters that had struck him, carved off of the overhead logs in the foxhole when they had been struck by rifle fire.

  “I never was that good looking to begin with,” Corey had just shrugged when shown the damage. “At least I'm not blind or dead.” It was a very philosophical answer from one so young.

  Titus Terry's wound was dressed by Kaitlin and he was pronounced fit and fine other than the pain he would have to endure for a few days.

  “Could have been worse,” was all he said as he gently pulled his shirt back on. “Thanks.”

  Joshua and Deborah Webb, along with Mark's widow, Bernice, came to the clinic to see Mark's body once there had been time to clean him up. Clay hadn't wanted them to see him in the condition he had been found.

  There was crying of course. Sobbing would be more accurate. Clay had not been present for their visitation as he supervised the continued clean up from the battle. That effort was hampered by the need to man the observation posts and the towers to prevent another attach from catching them by surprise.

  Ronny's backhoe one again added to the mass grave at the east of the farm and then made a total of eight trips back and forth with the bucket full of bodies. Bodies that had been stripped of anything usable such as weapons, tools, ammunition, and even belts and boots. Any equipment not soaked in blood was added to what the former commandos had all referred to as 'trade and good will items'. Guns and other necessities that could either be traded or simply given away as a sign of good will in later times. To some it seemed ghoulish, but to them it was simply a way of life.

  Robert had used the larger of the Sanders' tractors to pull the destroyed vehicles out of the road, leaving them at the western edge of their property in a small copse of pines and brambles where they would be at least semi-hidden. There might be a use for the surviving parts and pieces of those trucks at some point, but the goal today was just to get them out of the way.

  The men and women who had participated in the defense of the farm were exhausted. Even the twins were worn out, having sat through everything while manning the radio room. They had missed nothing, enduring not only every bit of bad or frightening news, but fear for their family and friends who they could not to and help. While they knew they provided a necessary service in the form of communications, it was still mentally and emotionally exhausting.

  As the clean up began to wind down, people still in combat gear began to simply collapse where they were, sitting on logs, rocks or even the ground as the toll of the day's activity finally came due. Clay was not immune to that as he found himself leaning on the side of Building Three, looking at the darkening sky. He hadn't realized that it was so close to being dark. He would need to set a watch soon, but with everyone exhausted it would be difficult to get done…

  “Hey!” Clay jumped, not having realized he had fallen asleep. He shot to his feet, rifle ready, looking all around him for threats.

  “Shame you wasn't so on the spot earlier today or my son might still be alive,” Joshua Webb, who was standing nearby, told him. “Funny how all of you are still alive and my boy is dead!”

  “Two of us are wounded, one seriously,” Clay replied without thinking, head still foggy with sleep. “I'm sorry about your son,” he added, trying to wipe the dirt and fatigue out of his eyes.

  “You're sorry,” Josh Webb nodded. “Well, that's great, that is.”

  “Mister Webb, we fought at final count over fifty men today,” Clay was beginning to get angry and was trying not to. “We did that with thirteen men and women and the help of three others, all my family. Ten men tried to climb that hill and attack your cabin area. Ten men. You have more people than that trained and ready to defend your homes and we didn't ask for anyone to come down here and help us. We took on the bulk of the attack force ourselves.” He straightened up finally looking the older man in the eyes.

  “Whose idea was it to place a sixteen-year-old kid in that hole with Mark? A kid and no one else despite the fact that it lay right on the axis of attack. The direction the enemy was approaching from,” he clarified. “That wasn't me. You all were in charge of your own dispositions, and you decided to leave Mark with a kid who was so scared he was practically useless. In the end we sent three men from here to defend your homes while we tried to keep fighting here with what was left.”

  “Yeah, well, you're the soldiers, aren't you?” Webb declared. “That's your job.”

  “Have you seen us getting paid for any of this?” Clay asked suddenly. “Seen us getting any special treatment because we're here to protect this farm? Cause we don't. We eat the same food you do, our kids do too. In fact, our kids do everything with your own, if you’ll recall. School, day care, you name it. So please, Mister Webb, explain to me how it's our job and ours alone, to defend this farm and everyone on it.”

  “That was what you and Leon said,” Joshua Webb replied. “You'd defend this place.”

  “No sir,” Clay shook his head. “That was not what we said. We said that if anyone had to go off the farm for any reason, we'd handle that, alone. That's what we said. And we have. Not once have we asked any of you to accompany us, even if we needed the help. We told you upfront that in the event of a major attack on this place you and yours would have to help defend your homes. That we couldn't do it all.”

  Webb remained silent, knowing that for the truth it was. For his part, Clay knew the older man was hurting and was trying to be as gentle as possible as the old man lashed out at whoever he could in his grief.

  Without another word Webb, his wife and daughter-in-law turned and departed, heading back up the hill. Clay watched them go, too tired to worry about what they were going to do, or where.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  -

  Leon was sitting in his chair when Joshua Webb began beating on his door. Janice went to see him in and Webb brushed her aside as Webb and his wife burst in. Brick didn't actually move, but his tensed, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. This wasn't lost on the older man, who forced himself to calm down a bit.

  “Josh,” Leon nodded slightly. “I'm sorry about your loss. Brick told me about it when he got back.”

  “Yeah, and how did he know?” Webb demanded.

  “Probably because he was defending your homes while the rest of you sat in a bunker, letting four people, one of 'em practically a child, man your defenses,” Leon's voice was flat and final.

  “We. . .we did what we thought was sufficient,” Webb stammered, taken aback by Leon's abrupt statement.

  “And you was wrong,” Leon nodded as if Webb had made his point for him. “How many of your bunch up there have gone through the training that Clay and Gregory and the others have provided? Been issued good rifles, gear and supplies as well?”

  “That ain't got nothing to do with-”

  “How many,” Leon refused to allow the subject to be changed.

  “I don't know exactly,” Webb admitted. “Most of 'em was my boys, though!”

  “Thirteen,” Leon answered his own question, surprising everyone in the room. “Thirteen, and that don't count you, Harley, Darrell Goodrum and Franklin, all of who I know for a fact can shoot. Now out of that number, how many people did Clayton ask you to send down here to fight that bunch?”

  “We wasn't supposed to have-”

  “How many?” Leon was on the verge of being angry now.

  “None!” Webb snapped back.

  “Josh, I know you're hurting,” Leon said softly. “I've lost children of my own. The only pain that was worse was losing Elizabeth herself, may the angels sing her name in he
aven,” he looked up for just a second. “But you came here to complain about something. Something where the fault lies with someone other than me, or my family. Who made the decision to put that boy in the hole with Mark?”

  “Franklin and I did most of the deciding, with input from the others,” Webb admitted. “Harley wanted his boy to help. We thought that was a good spot for him.”

  “Why in the fires o' hell would you think that being directly in the path of an attack was the ideal place for a sixteen-year-old boy?” Leon almost yelled. Would have yelled had he not been keenly aware of his breathing problems of the last few weeks.

  “I told you, Harley wanted his boy to be there!” Webb shot back.

  “Then I suspect you need to be having this discussion with Harley Jessup rather than with me,” Leon sat back a little, his voice calming. “You had the numbers up there to defend that place, and we gave you the weapons and gear to get it done. It's not our fault you didn't do it. I've seen the yard down there,” he pointed to where the bulk of the battle had been fought. “We did our part and then some.”

  “You told me-”

  “I told you you would have to fight to keep what you have!” Leon finally lost his temper. “We all do! There was over fifty in that group, and you had to fight ten of them! That's all! What if you had to fight 'em all? What if that bunch showed up at your home place and started taking from you? Think there's enough of you to stop them taking any and every thing they wanted? Including your wife, daughter and daughter-in-laws? Killing you and all your boys, leaving you for the buzzards and the worms?”

  “How well do you think you'd have done against that, Joshua?” Leon was having trouble breathing now.

  “We're leaving,” Webb said quietly, drawing a puzzled look from his wife. “We should never have come here.”

  “You wanna go, go,” Leon nodded. “Told you when I did this it would be hard. That times was coming when it would be harder still. And they are. You think this is bad?” he swept his arm around the front of his house in the general direction of the battlefield below. “This ain't nothing. This is just a local jackass who managed to line up some petty thugs to and enforce his will on others.”

  “Pretty soon we’ll be seeing someone trying to form some kind of provisional government, or else try and reinstate the old one, except with new rules they decide on. They’ll want to come first and disarm you, since armed people can't be cowed or forced to do what they want. And they’ll still try and take any food you have, except it will be for them, not to distribute to the hungry. They will do pretty much what they damn well please and run over anyone who objects.”

  “Now if you want to face all that alone, with just you and your family, then you by all means go and do just that,” Leon told him forcefully. “I’ll have Clayton arrange for you to get back home safe and sound with all your things. Just remember what I said. Cause when they actually come to you, it’ll be too late for second guessing or mind changing. Now I’ll thank you to get out of my house. I've done about all the talking I can for the day,” he lay back, gasping. Janice ran to his side and slipped his oxygen mask over his face, flipping the machine on as she did so.

  Suddenly Brick was standing beside Joshua Webb though the older man had never seen or heard him move.

  “Let me see you to the door,” one large hand raised to point the way. Even in his anger and grief Webb could see that his welcome was overstayed. Without a word he and his wife departed.

  “You shouldn't have got so worked up Mister Leon,” Janice fretted over the Old Man. “That wasn't good for you.”

  “Ah,” Leon waved her comment away. “I'm fine, and that was going to have to happen sooner or later. Brick, see if Clayton feels like coming to see me.”

  “Sure you're up to it?” Brick asked.

  “Got to be,” Leon nodded. “Things to get done.”

  –

  “You look tired,” Lainie said as she and Clay stood just outside Building Two. Others were gathered around, most still in a stunned state as they surveyed the damage. Franklin George and two others were working on a box coffin for Mark Webb as others sat a vigil, working to prepare the body for a short funeral.

  “I am,” Clay admitted. “But that has to wait. I won't get much sleep tonight if any,” he admitted. “It's already dark and we've still got work to do. And we have to man all our posts tonight since this may not be over.”

  “I was afraid you would be in here,” she nodded to the clinic. “Afraid something would happen to you.” She couldn't bring herself to say words like 'shot' or 'die'.

  “Pays ya money, takes ya chances,” Clay gave her a rueful grin.

  “It's not funny,” Lainie said without any heat.

  “It has to be,” he told her with a shrug. “It's the only thing that keeps you sane.”

  “Clay,” Brick's voice made Lainie jump but Clay just turned to look at the giant man.

  “Damn it Brick!” Lainie almost screeched. “Wear a bell or something!”

  “Sorry,” her former bouncer seemed genuinely contrite. “Leon would like to see you, Clay, if you feel like it.”

  “Let me guess,” Clay sighed. “Something to do with the Webbs.”

  “Likely,” Brick agreed. “Joshua Webb has decreed that he and his family are leaving. Returning to their home place I guess.”

  “Is Leon really in any shape to talk to me tonight?” Clay asked suspiciously.

  “Honestly, I don't think so,” Brick admitted. “And you know that won't stop him.”

  “All right. Tell him I’ll be along shortly. Probably twenty minutes or so. That should give him a little time to rest, at least.”

  “Will do,” Brick nodded.

  “And Brick, I appreciate your help today.”

  “No problem at all.”

  –

  “It's so quiet it's creepy,” Kade said softly. He and Nate were in the observation point on the east side of the farm, the same direction the attack had come from.

  “Always is after a battle,” Nate nodded. “The noise chases away the wildlife, even the insects. It will be a few days before things go back to normal. Assuming there's not another battle.”

  “Think there will be?” the younger man asked.

  “No idea,” Nate admitted. “We'd have to know how many men that old guy has available, and what shape they are in. They keep losing men and vehicles, so that has to take a toll eventually.”

  “We were lucky today, weren't we?” Kade asked. He wasn't expressing an opinion but asking in earnest.

  “You make your own luck in this business for the most part,” Nate replied, trying to answer Kade's question honestly. “We trained, we anticipated, we equipped ourselves to protect what was important to us. In this case, our families and homes.”

  “There's always some luck on a battlefield. You ever heard the saying 'a bullet with your name on it?'”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, sometimes that's how it seems,” Nate was looking out at the night now. “Sometimes, it seems like a one-in-a-million shot that gets the guy next to you. Gets him instead of you. Maybe you dropped something and bent over to pick it up, and bang, the guy behind you takes a bullet that a second later or early would have taken your head off.”

  “I've seen men cross battlefields untouched and then die when a ricochet finds them in a hole where you would have thought he was completely safe. Seen men survive entire battles and then die when a mine that got overlooked goes off and kills random guys who never saw it coming.”

  “So, I guess to the extent that none of us got the magic bullet today, yeah we got lucky,” Nate looked back at Kade. “But don't confuse fate, with luck. We won today because we were prepared, and they weren't. That bunch came waltzing in here like they were going to find a few farmers armed with shotguns and walked right into a hornet’s nest. A firestorm. When you play with fire, you end up burned.”

  “Firestorm?”

  You saw a tiny piece of it tod
ay,” Nate nodded. “When the air is so full of flying lead and steel that it's almost solid. There's nowhere you can avoid it, nowhere you can hide from it. You try to find a hole and pull it in after you. That's where your fate comes into play. Is there a bullet in that storm of metal that has your name on it? But you can't think about it, Kade. If you do, it will eat you up. Paralyze you. You have to keep moving and do your job. If you hesitate, stop to think it over, then the storm catches up to you.”

  “I see,” Kade nodded, and his tone indicted he really did.

  “For now, all we can do is keep training, stay ready, and see what happens,” Nate finished. “The next move has to be theirs, since all we want to do is live and be left alone.”

  –

  “You two did a good job today,” Clay told the twins as they got ready to go home. “I seriously don't think we could have made it without you two being here, steady and ready. No one could have done any better.”

  “Thanks,” the twins said in unison. They looked drawn and haggard.

  “Unless we have more trouble tomorrow I want you two to take a day off,” he told them, concerned. “Janice and JJ will just have to deal with things here on shifts. You guys earned a rest, so sleep late, watch movies, do whatever you want. If I need you I promise I’ll call. Okay?”

  “Thanks,” the two said again. “We are tired,” Leanne added with a nod.

  “Seriously,” Deuce nodded.

  “Go on then,” Clay waved them out. “Go home. Rest. That's an order,” he grinned.

  “Yes sir,” both saluted, in perfect unison of course. He watched them literally stagger away from the radio room and head home on foot, their golf cart stored because of the battle.

  “You going to see Leon?” Lainie asked.

  “Yeah, can't put it off any longer,” Clay nodded. “You good here guy?” he asked JJ as he settled into the radio room.

  “I'm good,” the boy promised. “As long as things don't get crazy like today I can handle it.”

  “Good deal. Let someone know if you need anything.”