Nathan Jones - Determination

“Well I was thinking we raid their weapons too,” Gutierrez admitted. “Although the idea of blowing up more than we could ever carry away is an opportunity too good to pass up.”

“Exactly. It could make a big difference in the war.” Lewis glanced around at the small crowd gathered by the fire, just about everyone off duty from all four and a half Aspen Hill squads. “But that’s just the squad leaders. Like I said, I’ll be relying on volunteers for this. Who’s with me?”

Within five seconds over twenty people had raised their hands.

“Are you going to give the people on duty right now a chance to volunteer, too?” Gutierrez asked.

Lewis nodded. “Absolutely. Depending on what we’re doing we might not need everyone, for example with this one ten people should be more than enough, but we appreciate everyone who offers. You will all have a chance to join us at some point.”

He briefly closed his eyes against his pounding head. Resting until dinner had helped, but he was still more than ready to get horizontal and sleep if he could. He couldn’t exactly call it a plus, but since his head injury sleep had come twice as easily as before. Unfortunately it had also come twice as much. “All right, everyone, get some rest and relaxation. We’ll spend the next few days picking out our target and planning the raid. Once that’s done we go, so be ready.”

There were a few murmurs of assent. Lewis stuck around for about ten minutes answering questions, responding to well wishes, and chatting with friends, but then he couldn’t stand it anymore. With help from Trev and Gutierrez he made it back to his tent, sinking down onto the sleeping bags while Jane headed out to lead the night shift, making up for missing the afternoon one being with him.

He hoped he’d be in good enough shape to go on the raid by the time they had it planned out. Trev and Jane had both agreed to lead teams out scouting, doing most of the legwork and then bringing the information back to him so they could brainstorm. They’d avoid fights at all costs for now, to keep the blockheads from raising their guard, and hopefully their raid would be a complete surprise.

It was probably Trev’s flippant remark during the campfire meeting, but that night he dreamed about fireworks.

Trev shifted slightly, focusing the binoculars on a pair of trucks that had just pulled into the depot.

Even as he watched the backs were thrown open and soldiers began hauling bedraggled men and women in filthy, torn clothing out. Some fell painfully to the ground, too off balance or stiff to catch themselves. The soldiers beat at these poor people with the butts of their rifles until they managed to get their feet under them, staggering away from the vehicles to make room for more prisoners to emerge.

And more, and more.

“Jeez,” Trent muttered, watching the event a few feet away through his own binoculars. “How many they got in each of those things? Twenty? Thirty? They’re like clown cars.”

Trev watched a young woman who was trying to stand take a brutal blow to the back of the head, then collapse back to the ground. Her attacker and one of his companions broke away from the other soldiers herding the prisoners away from the trucks, laughing as they lifted the woman by the shoulders and legs and hauled her limp body towards the nearest tent. Trev doubted it was for medical assistance.

He looked away with a sick feeling in his gut. “There’s nothing funny about this.”

Trent gave him an abashed look. “Sorry.”

“One or two trucks full of prisoners have passed through this depot every day I’ve been watching this place,” Jane said, “Some they take on north, some they drop off like these ones, shoving them into that barn in the middle of camp. The ones that stay get brought out to do manual labor, not just here but walking them down the road to Huntington. Digging ditches, hauling supplies, and cooking and cleaning for the camps. Along with—” she broke off with a shudder, “other things.”

Trev’s earbuds crackled with Lewis’s voice. He and Jane had their mics toggled on to a private channel, so his cousin could hear what they were talking about and give his two cents. They could still receive messages from the main channel, but their mics only went to each other. A nice bit of communications technology.

“We saw them bringing prisoner trucks like this through Aspen Hill, too,” his cousin said. “So it’s a pretty large scale operation. And it makes an awful sort of sense, I guess. The Retaliation very likely knocked us into a pre-industrial existence. Life back then was harsh and labor intensive, literally backbreaking for most but the wealthy. Most societies had slaves, or a class similar to them, to do the hardest work with little hope of ever advancing to anything better.”

“So the blockheads are reinventing slavery to drive the growth of their new civilization, and not just being vindictive?” Trev asked.

“A little of both, probably.” Lewis answered. “Either way free people will work just as hard with the right motivation. Harder, if they have the hope of a brighter future. A lot of scholars agree that the fall of Rome was largely tied to their indolence and reliance on slaves, while the American Dream inspired previous generations to succeed. Not to mention that slavery is fundamentally wrong and we’ve long since moved past it.”

“I appreciate the history lesson,” Trev said. “But all of us already know they’re wrong. The question is how we’re going to help the people they’re capturing.”

There was an awkward silence. “It looks like someone’s gotten over his reticence about going after the enemy,” his cousin said dryly.

Trev flushed. “Shut up, Lewis.”

There was another silence. “Sorry, man. I don’t know how bad what you guys are seeing out there is. But that’s beside the point. Our first target is the armory… the shed, not the barn.”

The shed was on the northern side of the camp, with its own layer of protection. “But the barn’s where they’re putting a lot of the supplies. It’s worth considering.”

Jane gave him a sympathetic look, but her tone was firm. “Considering what? Even if we could manage to free a bunch of people, how would we get them out? We’ll be lucky if we can get a small team in and out.”

Trev watched the hopeless prisoners being led into the barn. “I’m not sure I can just watch this.”

Lewis’s voice came back sounding comforting. “I’ll talk to Harmon and Davis, Trev. With the military’s help it might be possible to mount a large scale rescue, get them all out and to safety.”

“From a camp with hundreds of soldiers, less than a mile from an occupied town filled with thousands of soldiers?” Trent demanded. “This is awful to see, sure, but Erikson would have to send a brigade to help those people. Maybe even a division. All for a few hundred half-starved prisoners who might die in the fighting.”

Trev lowered his binoculars. “I think I’m done here,” he said.

“We’ll keep an eye open for opportunities, Trev,” Lewis assured him. “Maybe if the blockheads send a work team of prisoners out close to the foothills we could stage a rescue. Or Davis might be able to catch some of those trucks in transit. We’ll make it a priority.”

He appreciated the reassurance, but he didn’t respond. A moment later Jane lowered her binoculars too. “I think I’ve seen enough,” she said. “We know our route into and out of the camp, and the sentries and patrols have been regular as long as I’ve had an eye on them. I just wanted you to get a look at it too, see if you agree that it’s a good target.”

Trev had been ranging farther south these last few days, and his list of potential targets was pretty thin. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind hitting this place.”