grass. 'They sneak into our rear area, take out our supply column, blow the piss out of the Abrams, then get away without a scratch? Wow, just great.'
'Another convoy?' Shep floated the idea in a hushed tone so as to keep the conversation within the confines of the small meadow away from the ears of the front line defenders.
'There’s nothing left,' Trevor shared the grim news.
Jon said, 'Wow, we’re in bad shape then. Some of the guys got pistols, hunting rifles, and shotguns. The army guys have carbines. There are few of the Redcoat and platypus rifles but they're running dry. I don’t see how this is going to get things done.'
Shepherd said, 'There has to be more than that.'
Brewer answered, 'A couple of shoulder-fired anti-tank missiles, a grenade here and there, Johnny has got a few toys left and Stonewall’s guys got swords but…but…'
Sharp reports of gunfire blasted into the clearing.
'They’re coming again,' Shep stated the obvious.
The three jogged from the meadow, up a short rise, and approached the trenches and barricades of the second mountain. The cleared field of fire in front of the lines showed no sign of attackers, but the clap of shots reverberated through the dense woodland.
Reverend Johnny frantically dispatched groups to his left and right while K9s raced behind the battlements, yapping an alert.
'Hurry now! Run like the devil is biting at your ass!'
Johnny faced Trevor and told him, 'The fiends are striking at our flanks. If not for the acute noses of our canine companions they would have overrun us on either end!'
Trevor translated and realized that the Grenadiers had sniffed out a sneak attack.
'Jon, take the right. Shep, take the left. Johnny, you keep hold right here.'
'Like the rock of Gibraltar!'
Trevor followed Shep toward the eastern flank. The roar of battle intensified.
The eastern edge of the summit ended in a sharp bluff that dropped to a valley of rocks. The human lines anchored against that precipice. The Vikings stormed toward them.
Bullets answered but not in a quantity equal to the task. The Vikings made it half way across the clearing and appeared poised to overrun the position. If they did, the aliens could sweep into the rear area and effectively strangle the ragtag army.
'Keep shooting! Keep shooting!'
Trevor followed the advice Shepherd yelled to the defenders. He leaned against a Maple tree and fired a trio of shots into the approaching force. The added bullets from his gun seemed little more than extra pebbles thrown into a tidal surge.
Something whizzed near his head. A chunk of bark exploded from the tree. Trevor dropped to the ground pinned by heavy enemy fire that…suddenly…stopped.
A sound like a buzz saw played over a bullhorn filled his ears. Another sound followed almost immediately: A yell. No, a cheer.
Trevor pulled his head from the ground. The forward ranks of the enemy army lay in ruins in the open field.
A shadow flashed over those bodies.
Two metallic birds of prey swept over the killing ground, cannons dealing destruction to anything that dared move in the open.
Trevor raced forward and pumped his fist at the enemy then toward the choppers.
That’s my girl!
Exuberance turned to horror.
Two contrails streaked from the southern side of the field. The rockets at the front of those contrails slammed into Bragg’s helicopter and then Nina’s. The former banked right and headed northwest, smoke blowing from its side. The latter fell fast as its rear rotor shattered.
He watched helplessly as Nina’s chopper descended toward the killing ground between the lines. A rumble in the earth announced the crash and a ball of smoke curled to the heavens.
Trevor ran. As he pushed through the forest, his radio broadcast chatter between commanders: 'We’ve got a chopper down on the highway. Stonewall, check it out.'
'I am already en route.'
'Oh Christ! Second chopper went down in the field. Shit, that’s Nina. Who’s over there?'
'I can see her. Bird's on fire. Someone better get over there before they do!'
Trevor’s legs drove like pistons. Low hanging branches and early summer brush scraped against his bare arms and cheeks.
'Bragg is okay, but his chopper is done. How’s Nina?'
'They’re right on her! Someone better move! Now!'
The ball of smoke where her Apache had fallen grew larger as he ran closer. Soon he heard an exchange of gunfire and smelled the oily scent of burning aviation fuel.
Trevor stopped on the human side of the killing zone. Ahead of him in a field of cut brush lay the wreckage of Nina’s attack helicopter. The entire rear third of the machine had crumpled, the cockpit torn open. Viking warriors braved human fire to inspect the wreck.
'Trevor.'
He turned to the sound of her voice.
Nina, dressed in a green flight suit and wearing patches of black soot on her face, stood behind friendly lines.
'You-you’re okay?'
All the air leapt from his lungs. He placed both hands on his knees.
'I’m okay. Thanks to this guy.'
Evan stood next to her, a rifle in hand.
'Evan?' Trevor tried to grasp what had happened. 'You pulled her out of there?'
Trevor realized the surprise in his tone probably insulted Godfrey, so he stood straighter and spoke in a firm voice, 'Well done, Evan.'
Godfrey shrugged and walked away.
– The Vikings came again a half-hour later, but not as aggressively. Instead of charging toward the battlements, they took position on their side of the killing ground and fired bursts.
A Viking or two fell, so did a human or two.
That low-intensity attack lasted twenty minutes before the invaders withdrew.
Early in the afternoon the aliens did the same, this time sending raiders toward the defenses but they quickly retreated after drawing fire.
The Vikings lobbed their strange artillery shells against the human fortifications, but the thick cover of the trees smothered the effect. Human mortar shells proved equally ineffective.
More attacks came mid and late afternoon.
Trevor, Shep, and Brewer hurried forces from place to place in anticipation of a heavy assault that never materialized; only mild skirmishes.
After another meager attack, Shep observed, 'Seems to me they’re bleedin’ us dry.'
Trevor and Brewer stood alongside him under a sagging Maple tree. From there they watched Viking scouts fire potshots before backing off.
Brewer agreed, 'Wow, yeah, they took out that supply convoy now they’re making us waste all our ammo.'
Shepherd asked, 'So what we gunna do about it?'
Trevor studied the ground ahead: a cleared killing zone gently sloping to the south into the woods where the aliens mustered.
Behind him, more woods followed by another slope as mountain number two descended northward into a small, thin valley of golden grass on either side of a shallow stream. On the far side of that stream, mountain number three rose on a densely forested and rocky hillside. Atop that mountain waited the last line of trenches and
