Nathan Jones - First Winter

He didn’t recognize any of the men he saw as those who’d tried to sneak into Aspen Hill, either, and especially there was no sign of any man with a bruise on his face. No surprise there, since even if these bandits were belligerent they weren’t going to flaunt their guilty friends in front of representatives of a group that significantly outnumbered and outgunned them. The displaced refugees probably still hoped they’d be able to plead innocence and send them packing.

Once Matt was a cautious distance from the camp he slowed to a stop, well aware that this was easy range for a rifle. There wasn’t much they could do about that but keep an eye out for anyone about to shoot him so he could duck and run to safety. Still, standing in the open like this made the hairs on his neck prickle and his muscles tense.

On the closest edge of the camp several men had gathered just outside the nearest tent. One, the leader or at least spokesman of the displaced refugees, raised his voice to address Matt. His tone was nearly beyond unfriendly to the point of being threatening. “What do you want?”

Matt took a deep breath. What he wanted was to raise his M16 and fire a few bursts into that group, then start picking out targets inside the camp. Hiding behind tents wouldn’t do jack to protect them; the men who’d attacked the patrol had lost more men than their victims, and they’d caught Brandon’s people by surprise and got in close fast.

Here, even with their stolen guns and what little else they had, the displaced refugees probably couldn’t even win against Matt and the seventeen people with him. It would be a one-sided massacre.

But there were right ways and wrong ways to do things. “We know four of our people were killed by men from your camp!” he shouted back, doing his best to make his voice iron. “We’re willing to give you one chance to prove the entire camp wasn’t complicit in the attack.”

“You don’t know anything!” another ruffian called, voice thick with contempt.

“Give up the murderers responsible for killing our people,” Matt continued, ignoring him, “and give your word you’ll keep the peace from now on, or face justice yourselves. If you don’t do both of these things, right now, we’ll hold you all guilty for the loss of our people and respond in kind.”

Matt wasn’t sure exactly what happened next. He was abruptly falling backwards, a pain in his chest like he’d been hit there with a hammer. He heard the distant crackcrackcrack of a three round burst from an M16 as he collapsed towards the ground, time seeming to slow down around him.

Then arms caught him beneath the shoulders, dragging him backwards up the hill and over the ridge. He looked up to see Rick, head tucked down protectively behind one shoulder as he watched his step behind him, moving as quickly as he could with Matt’s weight. He had a vague thought that in their current situation his friend should’ve kept his helmet since he needed it more.

Around them he heard the sound of more gunshots as the Aspen Hill group returned fire while also withdrawing to safety, with Gutierrez and his scouts covering them. From the way his friends winced and ducked, accompanied by the muted sound of gunfire from the camp, it was obvious the displaced refugees turned bandits were attacking them.

Matt was having trouble breathing, his flak jacket restrictive and the pain in his chest unbelievable. That body armor had just saved his life, and he was glad he’d taken the time to put it on.

“What happened?” he gasped as Rick set him down partway downhill from the ridge, safe from view of the camp on the other side.

“Snipers popped up from behind a tent,” his friend said grimly. “They went for you first, and at least one of them has decent aim.”

“They’re not pursuing!” Lewis called, ducking down beside the two of them with the rest of the group. Nobody seemed hurt, to Matt’s immense relief. Lewis felt beneath Matt’s body armor, checking to see if any bullets had penetrated its protection as he continued. “But we should probably get out of here before they decide to. Can you walk, Matt?”

Matt rubbed at the sharp pain in his chest, struggling to regain his breath. Those fools thought that because Aspen Hill was a peaceful, civilized town, that made them weak. They’d already proven they had no respect for life.

“I can,” he said through gritted teeth. He lifted his hands for help getting up, but one shoulder became a blaze of agony at the movement. Lewis saw and left it to Rick to grab Matt’s other hand and help him up one-handed, as he supported his side well away from where he’d been shot.

“Should I keep returning fire?” Gutierrez’s voice crackled through his headset.

Matt freed his good hand long enough to toggle his mic. “Negative. Rejoin us as we withdraw.”

The former soldier sounded pissed, and for good reason. “The three of us have good cover. We could probably take out half the camp while they run around like chickens with their heads cut off. We’ve already taken out four of the guys with guns, although their buddies were quick to pick up the weapons and shoot back.”

“Rejoin us,” Matt repeated firmly. “Let’s keep our heads.”

There was a long pause. “Copy that,” Gutierrez finally said.

The former soldier and the two defenders with him met them half a mile south of camp. Matt had paused to drop onto a log, wincing as Lewis and Lucas pulled off his vest and checked him over more thoroughly. There was a minor puncture wound where the bullet had pushed the vest material into his skin, and an ugly bruise was already spreading over his chest. But it wasn’t serious, and Matt was sure he could make it back to Aspen Hill without too much effort so Terry could look him over.

Gutierrez crouched down beside him. The man was breathing hard, face tight with pent up rage. Matt realized he hadn’t seen his friend since Gutierrez had seen the bodies of his close friend Brandon and the other members of the patrol. It was obvious the former soldier was taking it hard, and the camp’s attack on Matt and the others certainly hadn’t improved his mental state.

“I’ll live,” Matt said, trying to smile. “Thanks for covering me.”

His friend didn’t seem to hear him. “I volunteer to lead an attack on the camp,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Tonight.”

“I’ve got reservations about being hasty here,” Lewis said.

“They murdered four people and shot at our Mayor!” Gutierrez snapped. “They shot at you! At your dad! We need to bring them to justice.”

Lewis had to be as angry as the rest of them, but he kept his head. “How? Even if they deserve it, which I’m not necessarily arguing they don’t, if we massacre the entire camp Rogers will label it an atrocity. He’ll use it as an excuse to call in the military to occupy the town and toss us all in chains. And that’s if we aren’t just lined up and shot.”

Lucas nodded. “Chauncey will have sent word of the attack on the patrol over the radio by now. I think we need to give the military at least a little time to respond to this before we act, just so we’re not accused of jumping the gun.”

“Give me some credit,” the former soldier said. “We’ve got enough people and weapons to arrest the whole camp and take down anyone who resists.”

“At night, like you suggested?” Lewis shot back. “We don’t have time to do anything before sundown, and there’s no way you’re making mass arrests in the dark.”

Gutierrez hesitated. “Okay, I might’ve been thinking more of going in guns blazing,” he admitted. “But I can manage a more restrained approach too.” He turned to Matt. “However we do it, we should do it soon. They’ve already proven they’ll murder innocents without a second thought. If we wait they might take other lives we could’ve saved. Maybe Aspen Hill lives.”