Cries Of The World Page 6
“Something spook you?” King called.
“You.”
“I know I’m big and ugly, but don’t shoot, white boy!” King joked, and Michael was for sure it was a joke this time.
They both chuckled as King made it to him.
“This time, you can drive,” King said, “you ready?”
“Yeah,” Michael said after hesitating, “Just don’t steer it hard like a car, or it can tip?”
“Yup. I’ll start her up.” King said.
Chapter Six
The Homestead, Kentucky
The man was let go. He truly didn’t know anything. After being grilled for two days he’d finally cracked. It disgusted Duncan at how little the man knew, but he did give up the frequency that the Governor’s men were using. With the right equipment, they should be able to break the encryption and get in. All the man wanted was a chance to flee. He had claimed he was forced back into the service and, once he was there, he couldn’t do much or say much to go against the flow. If he would have shown that he wasn’t on board, the others in his squad would have turned on him, as most of them were merc’s.
As the man left, walking in the opposite direction the Governor’s men had come from both times, Blake asked Duncan, “Do you really think it’s like that? They’re all too scared to share their own opinions? This can’t be the only guy who didn’t want to fight. You heard him; as soon as the fighting started, he dropped his gun and rolled under the truck. Pretty much matches up with Corrinne’s accounting as well.”
“There’s always people who refuse to fight in a war not of their choosing,” Duncan told him.
Blake thought on that. Silverman and some of his troops had left the Governor’s control. Maybe they weren’t the only ones who felt that what was going on was unlawful. If they could crack that frequency, Blake knew that Sandra would talk to them. Maybe it would even help to prevent another massacre. A twig snapped, bringing everyone to a halt and they waited silently. A rustle of leaves, louder than a deer would make, alerted them to somebody moving nearby.
“Corinne, any movement from the roads?” Sandra asked.
“Negative, other than the guy you sprung loose, I don’t see anything.”
Something prickled Sandra’s Spidey senses and she shouted a warning, and dropped prone the same time her father and Blake did. Wood exploded right where her head would have been as the bullet hit the tree behind where she was just standing.
“Sniper fire,” Sandra said into the mic before dropping it and reaching for her M4.
She waited and then heard another sharp report, but it hit somewhere deeper into the woods. One more shot and then her radio crackled, “Ma’am, sniper down. Figure there’s two more in his team. Guarantee you they’re all armed,” one of Sgt. Smith’s men said.
“Should we sweep them up?” Duncan asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to stay pinned down for hours if they have left, but I don’t want to play cat and mouse with a sniper team,” Sandra spat, angry in a way Blake hadn’t seen her before.
Everyone stayed down until a string of automatic fire disturbed the silence. More than one weapon was firing and Duncan demanded a sitrep for whomever was out there. The gunfire stopped and Corinne came back on the radio.
“Situation is normal. All F’d Up,” she said with a giggle.
“Darn kids,” Duncan snarled, “just when you want them to be serious they go and—“
“Caught two men in ghillie suits trying to sneak out. Told them to stop. They didn’t, and raised their rifles so…”
“Two less bad guys?” Blake asked.
“Two less bad guys.” Corinne confirmed through the speaker.
“Sandra, why don’t you and Blake head uphill. I’m going to link up with the perimeter guards and see what had been set up. Counter sniper team probably has their hide all marked off now,” Duncan said.
“Dad, you know I should be out there on point and—“
“You’re pregnant with my grandbaby,” Duncan said and that shut her objections down.
“Rats. No wonder you always preached safe sex,” Sandra grumped and Blake laughed when Duncan turned five shades of red. It was either embarrassment or anger, but Blake wasn’t going to stick around and find out. They worked their way back to the end of the lane where Blake’s real driveway started.
“Why do you think they were there?” Blake asked.
“To shoot somebody,” Sandra said softly.
“But who?” Blake asked.
“You or me. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Sandra said.
“We have to delegate some of this stuff out more, you know.” Blake said taking her hand in his.
“That just makes them a target,” she said angrily, meaning the folks who lived and worked at the Homestead.
“Probably safer than we are, right now.”
“Probably. Now we just have to figure out if we need to hit back at the Governor, and figure out how to keep his men out of our area.” Sandra told him, pulling her hand free.
“We couldn’t keep the cannibal out,” Blake said after a pause, remembering how Ken Robertson almost ruined their lives.
“He wasn’t human,” Sandra told Blake, “He was just some sort of creepy lizard who crawled out of the muck somewhere.”
“Nice visual.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
It had been quiet, too quiet. Three days after the sniper was found, they finally cracked the code for the encrypted frequency so their scrambler units could broadcast more than the usual gibberish. There were requests for Collins to report in on multiple occasions and, on the fourth day, they heard about a unit that was going to be put together to come to the Homestead. They referred to it by name, ‘The Homestead’, and they were planning on finding out what kept happening to their men and supplies.
“I wonder if they think they joined us?” Blake asked.
“Probably.” Sandra told him distractedly, Chris working on a coloring book at her feet.
“Sounds like a mixed unit plus some armor,” David said, cutting into the conversation.
“Really? What do they have?” Sandra asked.
“Sounds like their military holdouts have some MRAPS or APCs of sort, maybe even some assault vehicles. Mixed bag. Things aren’t organized by the sounds of it, and none of the usual peeps on the radio sound military.” David told them.
“Well, there’s a few,” Patty said turning to them, “but not many. Most military over the radio don’t give themselves ridiculous nicknames, do they?” Patty asked Sandra.
“You’d be surprised. But here in the States? No, I don’t think that’s all that common.” Sandra said.
“What do we do?” Blake asked them both.
“We make a plan, then execute it,” Duncan said.
“Now that we’re on their frequency, can’t we just try talk to them? I really don’t want to make this any worse than it is and kill a bunch of innocent people,” Blake told them.
“I know, hun,” Sandra said, putting her arms around his middle.
Blake smiled. The baby bump easily showed on her slender frame, and it was pressed into the small of his back. Soon he knew, he’d be able to feel the baby moving around. Another month, and he would feel what only Sandra could.
“Right now, they don’t know we cracked their frequency. It might be the tactical advantage we need,” Duncan said.
“Wait a second… The unit is being led by a Sgt. Silverman? Yeah, that’s what I thought I heard.” Patty said.
Sandra stiffened.
“He said they were bugging out, that they weren’t going to attack. I wonder…” Sandra started to say.
“You think he held out to snag what he could, or do you think he was trying to pull one over on us?” Blake asked Sandra.
“We won’t have much time to react if we don’t prepare now. What do we have that can take out an APC?” Duncan asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.
“We could also use thermite grenades,” Sgt. Smith said, joining the conversation, as he walked in from outside.
“Well, let’s listen to the rest of the chatter and start making plans to take them out if they are in fact coming after us,” Duncan said.
Blake was soaking it all up, and his mind was whirling. He didn’t like the thought of the Governor sending troops against them. It would make it three times that he’d sent men to come and take what was theirs, or to just outright kill and murder Blake and Sandra. What else were those forty some odd troops for? Definitely not a peace mission. The only thing result would be a horrific loss of life - and give further military equipment to the Homestead.
Sandra’s handheld crackled and she put the earpiece in and said, “Go,” and smiled. She grabbed a piece of paper and rattled off some numbers, while doing some math on the pad. She wrote down the response and then nodded.
“Silverman, I hear you loud and clear, over,” she said, handing her handset to David.
“Plug this into the speakers, would ya?”
“But don’t we want to listen—“ Patty was saying.
“Got it.”
They exchanged numbers, confirming it was a legit call.
“Sandra, Silverman here. Took longer to bug out than anticipated. Only way to get the families out safely was to wait until we had transport and when the last two transports didn’t come back… you wouldn’t know about that, would you? Over.”
“No clue. Maybe they took those transports and headed to Mexico. Rumors are, parts of it has power still and the tequila flows like wine…. Over.”
“Ha, ha! It’s ok, they were pretty much scum. Dirt bags that had been let out of prison or the dishonorable discharges that were forced back into the service. Not one of them had a lick of discipline. I had nothing to do with them and told the Governor it was a dumb idea to send that many for a brute force attack. I’m hoping everyone there is ok. Over.”
“Oh, we’re fine,” Sandra said, “What pissed me off was the sniper team that was trying to take out me and Blake. That one I will claim. They failed and we left them out for the dogs and coyotes. Over.”
The line was silent a long time, and when Silverman spoke up again, his voice was full of sadness.
“Must be the Governor’s Black Ops team. I don’t know much about them, but if he’d sent my guys in, they would have faded into the woodwork and waited for us to show up. If he sent those guys in… He must want you pretty badly. Over.”
“What do we have to do to have no more teams come after us? How do I trust that you aren’t working both sides against the middle, over?” Sandra spoke aloud her fear, that Silverman was tired of the Governor, but was using the Homestead to whittle down his forces.
“If I was working both sides against the middle, I wouldn’t leave. I’d just sit back and wait,” Silverman said, his voice starting to crackle over the speaker, “As far as the Governor, I don’t know. You can talk to him about peace. I doubt it’d work. Probably going to have to make it a more personal chat or take the fight to him. Over.”
“Damn,” Blake swore, “That’s exactly what I don’t want. What do we do if he gets his hands on a tank? An Apache? We can’t fight that, not with what we’ve got.”
“We actually can,” Sandra said, “but the losses would be unacceptable. I think we have to talk to the men and not the man himself.”
“How would that work?” Blake asked.
Sandra told him. About halfway through, Duncan started nodding and smiling.
* * *
The teams split up. Several ambush points were marked and armed with the ANFO barrels. Since there was armor involved, they went full load and buried all but the lids. They might not be able to punch the armor, but the blast would be enough to flip or throw the APC over, making them useless in case Silverman was lying. The Homestead became a hive of activity, preparing for yet another threat, but in two days, when Silverman left out, they were ready.
“You going to listen in while I mess with the troops?” Sandra asked Blake.
“I should, but I don’t know. Chris has been wanting me to take him out and, after listening to that last massacre, I don’t want to… you know, in case he was lying,” Blake admitted.
“Hey, if this stuff didn’t bug you… You wouldn’t be the man you are.” Sandra said.
“You just seem so good at not letting it show,” Blake admitted, “Except when you’re sleeping.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her eyes twinkling in mischief.
“Well, you talk. Mumble. I mean, I didn’t know you loved chocolate milkshakes as much as you seem to,” Blake smiled.
“Chocolate milkshakes? Who doesn’t?” Sandra said getting close to Blake, her hands threatening to tickle.
“Hey, I can figure out a way to make some.” Blake smiled and pulled Sandra close, holding her arms to her sides.
If it were anybody else, Blake would have been disabled, on the ground bleeding, but Sandra allowed it and smiled as he pulled her into a warm hug.
“Good, you figure that out with Chris, and I’m going to play psy-ops with Boss Hogg’s men. But chocolate milkshakes would be something I’d want you to make a ton of, especially when we get ice for the ice house going.”
“Love you babe,” Blake said kissing the top of her head and letting her go.
“Don’t be gone too long. If things go south…”
“Oh, we’re probably going to head to edge and start setting some big snares and then I’ll poke through the barn for something to make a big tub. I think I have something in mind actually…”
Sandra started laughing.
“What?” Blake asked.
It wasn’t Sandra who answered, it was Patty who was also grinning.
“When you put your mind to it, you usually do something amazing like a Junkyard Warrior… but if you can pull off chocolate ice cream? I think Sandra’s going to have to beat the ladies off with a stick,” Patty said, batting her eyes at Blake in a teasing fashion.
“Oh no, this Junkyard Warrior is mine,” Sandra said smiling, “besides, he’s going to get me some smoked pork for the baby, right?”
“You got it.”
Blake and Chris left as Sandra keyed up the radio.
“So where are we going?” Chris asked.
“Well, we still have a ton of wild hogs, and more deer than you could shake a stick at. I’m going to set out a bunch of snares to see if we can get some,” Blake said, slowing his pace to allow his adopted son to keep pace easily.
“Can’t you just shoot them?”
“Sure, but if everyone from the Homestead went hunting, there would be a ton of accidents. This way, we leave the snares out and check them later on, or tomorrow morning, until we catch something. Then we put it down if it’s not dead. Usually it’s dead. Then we can take down the rest of the snares when we get enough.” Blake told the little man.
“So by putting out five or six snares, that’s like five or six hunters when there’s only two of us?”
Blake was blown away by the little man’s reasoning. He was close to six, and had just grasped the concept of what Sandra would have called a force multiplier.
“Yes, exactly,” he said, ruffling Chris’s hair, messing it up some.
* * *
They put out seven sets and wandered back to the barn, not the root cellar, nor the secret barracks, but the half organized riot of materials and junk from an older era. It hadn’t been the first time he’d gone through the rusted appliances to build something, but it was an easy build out for him. He removed the drum from a dryer with Chris’s help and put that on the floor. He then went looking for something that would hold the cream and a way to stir it.
The old butter churn he found was too tall for the drum, but he kept the lid, which had a hole already through the middle. Now to find something for the lid to sit on, and something to stir with. The wooden handle of the butter churn might work in a pinch. It looked like years of use had left it smooth and sliver free. Still, he kept looking until he found an old water bath canner. Chris was dancing with happiness as the two of them almost fit together perfectly.
“What do you think?” Blake asked Chris.
“What is it?” a small voice asked and Blake turned to find that in his mad hunt through the leavings from an older and gentler time, he’d drawn an audience.
“Well,” Blake said looking at the young boys and girls, mixed with quite a few of the Homestead’s grownups not on chores, watching him, “it’s going to be an ice cream maker when we can get some ice. I sort of remember how to do it, so I’m going to make it and hope for the best.”
“Ice cream!” The words buzzed through the crowd and it wasn’t long before word had spread.
It started off with Chris being Blake’s only helper, but soon he had three adults helping and scavenging for materials for him.
“Would an insulated box help?” Curt asked, keeping half an eye on his daughter Melissa, and Bobby.
“Yeah,” Blake mumbled, “That was going to be the next thing on my list actually,” he smiled at the room at large. Suddenly kids and adults alike were scrambling to help.
“So Blake,” Bobby said walking up hand in hand with Melissa, “How do you make Ice cream?”
“It’s pretty simple. You put heavy cream in the middle tub here, add your flavoring… vanilla, chocolate, fruit juice or whatever. Then you fill the outer tub with ice and salt. The salt lowers the temperature as the ice melts a bit and you crank some sort of stirrer. Pretty easy stuff actually,” Blake said, hoping his understanding of the how was accurate.
“That sounds too easy,” Melissa said.
“It really is. But, before we get cream, we have to have a cow or two.”