William Weber - Surviving America's Collapse

The first two meant the barricades were under attack.

The last meant the perimeter had been breached.

John scrambled up the ladder and slammed the hatch shut just as Diane yelled after him.

With his pistol already on him, John grabbed his chest rig and Colt AR-15. A second later he was up the basement stairs and on the main floor, heading for one of the front windows so he could assess the situation.

The echo from sporadic gunfire rattled the window panes. It was dark outside, but the western barricade by Pine Grove was still visible. Three deputies stood in a squared stance, firing their rifles at an old tractor that was charging toward them. It had a shovel on the front which it had raised to deflect their bullets. They continued firing until the last minute when the tractor crashed through the barricade.

Sheet metal flew in the air and the two cars that covered the street were flung apart from the impact. There was a blur of destruction as the barricade was left with a gaping hole.

Another shot from Frank’s Barrett rang out, cutting through the tractor’s windshield and killing the driver. It veered off and rolled another few feet until it hit the curb and stopped. The tractor was out of action, but the damage had already been done. A handful of Cain’s men swarmed in, killing the deputies wounded when the barricade was breached.

Outside was sheer pandemonium. People from both sides ran in every direction. Residents fired down on the attackers from the second-story windows of their homes. Deputies positioned on key rooftops were also engaging Cain’s men. A handful of deputies in the foxhole were pinned down by enemy fire.

John was getting ready to fire from his dining-room window when figures across the street darted from between the houses. Cain’s men had breached the back fences and were coming in from all directions. Some must have broken into the houses from the rear because the supporting fire from the second-story windows stopped.

A blur tore past John’s own window. The same was happening on his side. Glass shattered in the living room. He and Gregory had spent the entire first day after the EMP boarding up all the back windows and creating a funnel in his home that would lead to a kill zone. The purpose had been to avoid precisely what was happening all over Willow Creek now—Cain’s men storming in from all sides and smashing through back windows to deny the residents the use of prepared firing positions. Whoever had come to attack his house had clearly seen the boarded windows and decided to attack from the front.

John scrambled back toward the kitchen and the AR500 ballistic steel plate that would block their path. The plate had been fashioned with firing holes to enable John to fill the hallway with either slugs or double-ought buck from his Kel-Tec KSG shotgun as they approached. The shotgun was leaning up against the side wall. John shouldered his AR and grabbed the shotgun and then swung the metal plate closed. It clanged shut, vibrating in his hands just as screams of pain echoed from the living room. The attackers climbing through the windows had found the razor wire gift he’d left for them. The stuff could cut to the bone and any man wounded badly enough wouldn’t be able to use or operate a weapon afterward without getting the proper medical attention.

John racked the Kel-Tec and set the selector switch to double-ought buck. An old claymore bag converted to hold shotgun shells was on the kitchen table, filled with buckshot and one-ounce slugs. He would start by peppering the hallway as they came on and then switch to the slugs once they got closer.

Receiving one of those in the chest at close range was like being struck by a tiny cannonball. He’d seen a one-ounce slug hit a brown bear once on a hunting trip and watched it go right through the animal’s ribcage and out the other end. If it could do that to a thousand-pound brown bear, what would it do to a two-hundred-pound man?

John pulled on the helmet lying on his kitchen table and brought the PVS-14 nightvision monocle down over his eye, drowning the room in green light.

The first thug came tearing out of the living room, carrying a pump-action shotgun. But the business end of John’s boom stick was already pointing down the hallway.

John squeezed the trigger. The kitchen and hall exploded with light and a deafening blast as the buckshot ripped into the attacker’s chest and flung him back. John racked it just in time for the next attacker. Another loud boom from his Kel-Tec and this time it struck the man in the gut, dropping him to the floor as he screamed in agony. John quickly switched to the one-ounce slugs and racked the shotgun again.

A third man in the living room peered out and John fired at his head, missing by inches, but punching a three-inch hole in the drywall. A second later an object came rolling down the hallway and clanged against the metal shield. The distinct sound the object made travelling down the hall was enough to tell John it was a grenade.

He dove for cover inside the laundry room adjacent to the kitchen. Combat training had taught him to keep his body as low as possible since a frag grenade tended to explode up and out. The concussion hit a second later, blowing the shield off its hinges and tossing it against the back kitchen wall.

Blood rolled out from John’s ears. He hoped his eardrums hadn’t been damaged in the explosion. His goggles were off and by his side. Patting himself all over, he realized that he hadn’t been hit by any of the shrapnel.

A moment later, he was back on his feet, the AR front and center now. Cain’s men had stormed into his neighborhood, into his house and thought they could harm his family. John was about to let them know they’d made a terrible mistake.

The one who’d just thrown the grenade was in the hallway coming toward him, a pistol in his hand. John fired the S&W, squeezing off four shots before the man fell dead.

The one he’d hit in the gut with the shotgun moments before was pulling himself along the floor, heading for the front entrance. John used the pistol to finish him off. Soon it was clear that all of Cain’s men who’d stormed his house were dead, but the violence outside was still raging.

John exited via the front door, a move his tactical training suggested wasn’t a great idea, but right now, climbing through the windows he’d laced with razor wire would have made even less sense.

The sight that greeted him outside was hellish. Three houses across the street were on fire, along with two on his side. One of those belonged to Al, and John hoped to God he and Missy weren’t still inside.

The deputies in the foxhole were still being pinned down and John made it his mission to get them back into the fight. He moved rapidly away from the burning house to keep his position hidden and took cover at the base of a nearby tree. From there he spotted the muzzle flash from the guns keeping his men trapped. The shots were coming from the western barricade. John zeroed in with his Trijicon scope on three men with automatic rifles. Frank’s Barrett M107 hadn’t sounded off since the tractor had burst through their defenses and John hoped his friend had managed to reposition himself.

The AR kicked slightly as John placed rounds against his targets, killing one man outright and wounding another. The third scrambled for cover, but he couldn’t outrun a bullet and down he went. Then John realized a fourth man had been with them and in the firelight from the burning houses, he saw that it was Cain. Four more shots rang out from John’s AR, but each of them narrowly missed as Cain sprinted around obstacles, heading for the line of houses.

John rose and chased after him. Other battles were going on around him. The deputies at last were able to emerge from the foxhole and began fighting back.