appear to be any roads around the town nor do I see any movement on either side. I’m hesitant to drive closer as there is always a reason for a roadblock. It could have been set up much earlier and then the town fell into silence like so many others.
I lower my binoculars just as a spark strikes up from the road in front and to the left of us accompanied by the familiar sound of a ricochet. The report of a gunshot reaches us a second later. Yep, someone just took a shot at us. I guess that answers the question of whether the roadblock is being manned, I think hopping off the roof. Another spark and ricochet, closer this time, followed by the sound of the shot.
“Fuck that! We don’t have time for this,” I say hopping into the passenger seat and grabbing the radio.
“Horace, Greg, off the road to the right. We’re going around this fucking town. Keep your spacing but be able to support one another,” I say while directing McCafferty off the road.
She guns it and we head down a gravelly incline into a slight gully. Coming up the other side, we roll over a barb wire fence and enter a dry, dusty field. McCafferty continues accelerating. The other vehicles enter the field behind. Although the field is fairly flat, our speed makes the ride a little bumpy. We begin leaving a large dust plume behind us. With little wind, the dust hangs in the air partially obscuring Echo Team’s vehicle. Horace remains in view behind and offset to the right — away from the town.
“Greg, pull to the outside of Horace,” I call.
“Roger that,” he replies and I see his Humvee swing out.
This way everyone will have a clear line of sight for driving and the dust plume created by our vehicle should obscure both Horace’s and Greg’s. The sun glints in flashes off both windshields as they plow through the field. It’s not a mad race across the dusty ground but we don’t have much time if we’re to get down to Lubbock, look for McCafferty’s family, and get back before dark. This is only one obstacle and its eating at our time available. I’m glad we left early. My plan is to circumvent the town and be on our way as it’s apparent they aren’t in the mood for dinner guests.
“Sir, looks like we have company heading our way,” Henderson says over the radio.
I look past McCafferty to see plumes of dust rising in lines near where the roadblock was. I can’t see what the vehicles are but from the plumes, it appears they are trying to cut us off.
“What do you have, Henderson?” I ask.
“I see several… pickup trucks and… what looks like… some ATV’s,” he answers between bounces. So much for trying to circumvent the town and being on our way, I think grabbing for the microphone.
“Horace, Greg, we have company coming from the roadblock. Several pickup trucks and ATV’s cutting across the fields toward us,” I say knowing they may not be able to see what’s coming through the shroud of dust we are kicking up. I see the first of the raised roads coming up quickly.
“Henderson, hang on. Bit of a bump coming up,” I say.
McCafferty slows only slightly. Our front tires hit the small rise and we bounce over the narrow dirt strip landing hard on the incline on the other side. I bounce once leaving my seat and tilt my head to the side to avoid the quickly approaching ceiling. Just as quickly, I slam down into my seat and we are off once again. I look in the rear view to see Horace’s Humvee rise over the berm and slam down on the far side. The headlights and front of Greg’s vehicle shows and he goes through the same leap.
“How are our guests doing?” I ask Henderson.
“Still coming, sir,” he answers.
I look to see the dust plumes angling our direction still trying to cut us off. I can’t believe pickup trucks and quads are coming after three Humvees but maybe they don’t know what they’re chasing or didn’t see all three of us. Whatever the case, I can’t believe they would pursue. It doesn’t look like we are going to outrun them though. We can either engage them in the open or try to find a defensible location. They may outnumber us but I’m more than willing to bet we outgun them. Their closure rate is eliminating many of our options. I was kind of hoping they would give up if we ran far enough but that’s obviously not going to happen. Plus, I’m not overly happy with them taking some shots at us on the road. As a matter of fact, I’m rather pissed. The one thing I am worried about is someone coming from the other direction. If there’s a roadblock on one end of the town, I’m thinking there’s another on the other end.
The sound of something hard hitting the window next to McCafferty catches all of our attention. It’s a loud “tink” that all of us immediately recognize. Our heads snap to the sound and see a starred chip taken out of the glass. A lucky shot considering the speed and bouncing of both groups of vehicles but a shot nonetheless.
“Weapons free,” I tell Henderson and the other teams.
It’s time for us to do something about this and take care of these fucking assholes. I mean, seriously! What the fuck do they think they’re doing or hope to accomplish? Night runners are the issue and here they are shooting at other people. Fucking pricks. I feel the anger, along with a little fear, build up inside.
“Horace, Greg. I want you to start falling back. They are about 200 meters at our 8 o’clock and angling to cut us off. Can you see them?” I ask.
“No, sir. I can’t see anything in that direction through the dust cloud,” Horace replies. Greg answers the same.
“Good. That means they can’t see you either. Fall back. We’re going to cut to the right and lead them on. Horace, I want you to turn and charge through the dust and engage them on my command. Greg, fall further back and see if you can fall in behind them. We’ll turn to the left and across their front. We’ll have them on three sides and let them have it,” I say.
“Copy that, sir,” Horace responds.
“We’ll give ‘em hell, Jack,” Greg responds. I’m thinking the M-240’s on top will give them something to think about. I see Horace and Greg fall further behind as they slow up.
“Are you ready on top?” I ask Henderson.
“Fucking right, sir,” he answers.
“Give them a short blast and then be ready for a turn to the right,” I say.
I hear the M240 begin to bark and send rounds towards our unwelcome guests. Tracers reach out towards the vehicles and merge with them. McCafferty makes a slight turn to the right negating our pursuer’s angle. The group turns with us. I alert Henderson of another upcoming “bump” and we hit hard on the other side of yet another raised path. Henderson alerts us to the twinkle of return fire coming from the trucks. Apparently they didn’t like the tracers we sent in their direction.
Horace and Greg have fallen back considerably to the point where I really only know where they are by the clouds of dust they are kicking up. I measure the distance, through McCafferty’s mirror, of those that do not terribly like us near their nest and Horace through my own mirror. They look to be about even. That means Greg will be behind them. I catch a sight of winking lights from the trucks but there is no way they can come close to being accurate while on the go across these fields. That’s where tracers and heavy calibers come in handy. There is also the fact that our guns are mounted and we have better training. I’m still stunned they are chasing us. The why they shouldn’t have will become quite apparent to them in about a minute.
“Get ready to turn,” I tell McCafferty. “Cut to the left and we’ll come across their front.” She nods while gripping the wheel tightly to hold the Humvee along its path. I give a heads up to Henderson.
“I’m ready, sir,” Henderson responds.
“Horace, Greg, start your turns. Time to teach these bastards some manners,” I call out.
Horace’s Humvee comes charging out of the dust cloud directly at the flank of the group of vehicles pressing in on us. She immediately turns to parallel the hard-charging trucks and quads, staying directly beside them. In the rear, Greg’s Humvee races out of the same plume just after Horace’s and angles toward the rear. I don’t see any indication that they’ve been noticed as we seem to have their undivided attention. That will soon change.
Tracers arc from Horace’s Humvee reaching out toward the unsuspecting group. They aren’t a stream due to the fact that we’re still racing across a field but it looks accurate enough. The red streaks arc upward slightly and intersect one of the quads charging at us. Yeah, a quad versus a Humvee. I still don’t get it. I’d hate to be the one charging after an armed Humvee on an ATV. The driver of said quad finds out about that unfortunate inequality.
The meeting of the M-240 rounds and the quad isn’t pretty. The rider is thrown from his seat causing the ATV to turn sharply and begin rolling violently in a cloud of dust and debris. Greg’s tracers enter the fray and more dust clouds are created as his rounds find their mark. Still, the vehicles press onward. Looking at the action as best I can with the bumps and small windows, I’m guessing the majority of them still don’t know they’re under attack. I watch
