attacked. Two got off a couple of wild shots, but that probably only served to make the incident that much spookier to any observers. We hung their bodies in the trees around town for the rest to see next morning.
Megan began leading a squad with Eric, Andrew’s father. Their group became well-known on both sides for their fearlessness. They took pride in sneaking past perimeter guards to zones that the USR amp;D troops thought were safe, getting into barracks, and slitting the throats of dozens of men before they slipped out again, completely undetected.
Larry had to know we were raiding the buildings on the outskirts of town. He may have even known why. He had no way of knowing where we had our various stashes, however. Still, he began setting random booby traps, so we never knew what to expect when we opened a door or stepped on a floor. Usually, we were able to take someone with us who knew the building and could help spot anything out of the ordinary, but that didn’t always help.
After two months, we had lost twenty-three men and women. We made it a point to get particularly nasty with the enemy whenever we lost any of our own, and we did our best to demoralize them while avenging our losses.
Still, we began to wear down. Our lives had become an endless cycle of scavenging for supplies and raiding the enemy. We were constantly on the move, and the pace was exhausting.
Ken and I talked about it one morning as we marched to our new camp. Dew lay heavy on the ground which, combined with the fact that we were wearing makeshift backpacks and threadbare shoes, made the footing, if not treacherous, at least inhospitable. Most of us had learned the trick of feeling with our feet before settling our entire weight into a step, though occasional stumbles and curses marked those who were still in the learning curve.
“We can’t keep this up,” I told him. “It’s draining us. Keep going, and it won’t be much longer before we start making stupid mistakes from sheer exhaustion.”
Ken was silent until I began to think he wasn’t going to answer. “We got no choice. Stop for two days in the same place, and that’ll be the day Larry’s all over us. We’re still outgunned, and he still has that last tank.”
“So why can’t we stay deep in the woods, where he can’t get to us with the tank? We can take a break for a couple of days, recuperate. He’ll never know where we are.”
Ken shook his head. “Can’t do it, Lee. First, we need to keep up the pressure on Larry’s troops. We have to make sure they never get a good night’s rest. Keep them scared that a cocktail is going to come out of nowhere and set their beds on fire, or that some crazy people with knives are going to slip in and slit their throats while they sleep. We have to keep the pressure on.
“Second, there’s the fact that we’re too damn big to stop. We’re just under six thousand strong. We stay in one place for even a few days, and we’ll be sending out so many people in so many directions to gather food that we might as well still be on the move. And each day, they’ll have to go farther and farther. By foraging as we go, we help save time on gathering for meals, and we keep hitting fresh territory, which means no food shortage. There’s enough area around Rejas for us to keep moving for months without running short on food.”
So we were forced to coast along, reacting to events as they were thrown at us.
After three more weeks of this nomadic lifestyle, the weather began to turn wet and miserable. A deep depression settled in and morale, which had been so high after our initial victory, began to rapidly deteriorate.
Added to that was the pressure of depleted supplies. Food was tight, but with foraging, we would be fine. What hurt us most were other shortages, ammunition, clothing, shoes, and common tools, such as cooking utensils. It was like being part of a tribe of Stone Age hunter-gatherers.
I began to hear people muttering among themselves that they might be better off leaving Rejas to Larry, moving on to another town. Starting over. About the only thing that stopped them was the observation that Larry’s men appeared to be in the same boat.
Ken brought up the subject one night as several of us huddled around a small, shielded campfire. “It doesn’t look like Larry was any more prepared for a drawn-out fight than we were. I would guess he’s used to walking in and taking whatever he needs without any significant resistance.”
Jim grinned. “Guess he ain’t run into nobody with th’ balls o’ Rejas.”
“Maybe not. But he’s still got a definite advantage in hardware and location.”
“You really think so?” I asked. “I’ve been thinking about that. Granted, he has the one tank left, but I don’t think I’ve seen any of his boys using night goggles in the last week. And they hardly ever return fire at night anymore. Looks to me like they’re conserving resources, at the least. Might even be completely out of a few things.”
“Like maybe the batteries for the goggles?” Ken rubbed his chin, appearing to think about it for a second. “Makes sense, ours didn’t last more than a few days. Why should we assume theirs would last any longer? You might be right.”
“And as for location,” I continued, “well, they might have the town, but all the people who know the best ways in and out are here with us. Seems to me that balances the scales in that department. On top of that, even though we’re having a hard time of it getting enough food to keep us going, think about how bad it must be for them. We know the land around town better than they do. We know where the best foraging areas are, and we’re using them. What are they doing for food?”
Jim grunted. “Maybe things ain’t as bad as we thought.”
Ken was still reserved. “Okay, I’ll grant you that. But you and I both know they’ve got some source of food, or they wouldn’t have made it this long. Either they brought in supplies in some of their vehicles, or they’re sending out foraging teams the same as we are.”
“So, why haven’t we seen any of them?”
He shrugged. “It’s a big forest, and we only cover a tiny bit of it each day. For all we know, they could be sending teams out the south side of town while we work the north. Who knows? The point is, we can’t sit here and hope to starve them out.”
The talk went on for another hour or so, and the only thing we finally concluded was that we couldn’t continue the way things were for much longer. In a war of attrition, the enemy still had the advantage.
Brad Stephenson was my second on a night raid, but it was ultimately my responsibility. We’d had a fairly useless night, discovering that Larry’s boys had already found the supply cache we’d gone after and had left a nest of young copperheads in its place. No one had been bitten, but only because the enemy had left so many booby traps that we had learned to take nothing for granted. At least that trap didn’t explode, as some of the others had.
We were slogging back along the bank of a drainage ditch when our point person, Rene, called for a stop. “Jefe,” she whispered, “I think we got some wild garlic here.” She pointed out a swath of plants growing near the water. “You want to take some back to camp?”
It was SOP for any raiding party to gather anything they thought might be useful, especially food. Wild onions, garlic, rice, and several other staples could often be found growing near the ditches and reservoirs around Rejas, so everyone had taken to wearing leather sacks on their belts to carry whatever loot they came across. That night, it looked as though it would be nothing more than seasoning for the stew pots, but there was plenty of it, and it was better than nothing.
I sighed. “Might as well. No reason for the night to be a total loss. Everyone fill your sacks.”
I had just yanked what seemed like my hundredth plant from the ground when Brad came up beside me. “Leeland?”
“Yeah?” I barely glanced up, concentrating on finding another plant in the darkness.
“I don’t think this is garlic.”
I found another plant and pulled it from the moist earth. “What is it, some kind of onion?”
I started to lift it to my face to sniff, but Brad grabbed my arm with a sudden force that stopped me cold. “What?”
“I don’t think they’re onions, either.”
I squinted at the plant I’d just pulled out of the earth. It certainly smelled like garlic, but I knew Brad well enough to listen. “You got my attention. Talk to me.”
