Nathan Jones - Determination

There was a longer pause, then Davis sighed. “You know, sometimes Smith’s moralizing can be downright demoralizing . Give us an hour, Halsson. Can you stay under the radar for that long?”

An hour? That was a long, long time to be hiding in an enemy camp. What was Davis planning, a picnic? “Maybe.” Lewis set the timer on the detonator, then motioned to Jane and stood. “The armory will blow in exactly 60 minutes.”

“Roger that. We’ll do what we can.”

Along with the packs, he and his wife both slung two extra rifles on their backs. It wasn’t much, but anything was better than nothing; even this weighed them down as much as they could handle. With Lewis in the lead they ducked out of the armory and shut the door behind them, then slipped towards the tents to the south.

Burdened with added weight, and conscious of the timer ticking down behind them that they didn’t want to draw any attention to, they were even more slow and cautious heading to the barn.

Along the way Gutierrez radioed in to let them know that he and Trent had safely escaped the camp, and rejoined the volunteers hiding to the west of them. Lewis asked them if they’d be willing to set up there to cover the prisoners’ escape as best they could, and the former soldier reluctantly agreed.

“We’ll be falling back if our position gets compromised, though,” he warned.

In a way it was nice that the barn doors faced south, since most of the camp was to the north. It would make getting everyone out without being spotted slightly easier. But at the moment it also meant they had to hike all the way around to get inside. “We’re almost to the doors,” Lewis told Rick well before they came around the corner.

“Good, the coast is clear for now. Hurry.”

Together he and his wife trotted along the front of the barn to where their friend waited, and Rick cracked the door open just long enough for them to slip inside.

Trev had all the prisoners freed from the cages and somewhat organized. Under his supervision they’d ransacked the supplies to find any food that didn’t require preparation, as well as five-gallon jugs of water. While they’d been waiting they’d enjoyed an impromptu meal, their first good one in weeks judging by how gaunt they were. Some were even loading themselves up with food to take with them, as if they thought they’d be able to escape hauling a burden in their condition.

Lewis took one look at those emaciated forms and felt a moment of despair. They looked as if they could barely walk, let alone run the way they’d need to if they had any hope of getting to safety. But at least as Trev led a few dozen men forward, introducing them as those who’d at least handled a gun at some point in their lives, Lewis could see the determination burning in their eyes.

He and Jane started passing out the spare rifles, handguns, and grenades. “From what we can tell the soldiers sleep with their weapons,” he said as he produced the last of the 9mm Grachs and two spare magazines, handing them to a man in his teens who swayed with exhaustion.

Then, with great reluctance, he drew his 1911 and handed it to another prisoner, along with all the spare mags from his vest pocket. Jane and Trev did the same, and his cousin ran to grab Rick’s sidearm to also arm a prisoner.

“Do you think we could raid some of the tents?” Trev said after he got back, passing Rick’s pistol to a gaunt older woman who’d been hovering around him before he left. He’d introduced her as Deb, a friend he’d made in Newtown.

“You heard Davis,” Jane snapped. “He wants us to stay under the radar. If we try sneaking into blockhead tents and slitting their throats for their rifles we’ll be caught within minutes.”

Trev held up his hands. “Fine. Then we hope to get out without a fight, and if we can’t manage that we pick up the rifles of anyone we gun down in front of us.”

Lewis very much doubted it was going to be anywhere near that simple. He and Jane helped Trev finish organizing the prisoners into groups for more orderly movement, assigning each a leader from the armed men. As they did they all checked their watches, waiting as the time marched forward to the hour deadline.

After they were done eating about thirty of the prisoners shuffled back into a few cages, asking to be locked up again. Apparently the sight of weapons being handed out had driven home the price of freedom, which they would very likely pay if they left.

Lewis couldn’t fault them for that, but to be safe he had them bound and gagged. Just in case they decided their captors would punish them less if they raised the alarm. It felt terrible to give the order, and Trev looked like he was on the verge of protesting, but Lewis wasn’t about to take any chances.

With about fifteen minutes left on the countdown Davis finally called in. “Okay Halsson, here’s the deal. We’re hitting the rise now, with the aim of obliterating everyone on it. At which point we’ll fan out and begin striking at patrols and sentry positions in the area.

“Even better, your friend Lieutenant Faraday up north says he’s been getting harassed by blockhead commandos in camo bandannas. He’s about had enough of it, so he’s agreed to make a committed attack into the valley himself. He’ll even hit at your old town if he gets an opening. Between those two we should get reinforcements scrambling out from Huntington, and maybe even your depot. It won’t be enough to clear the place out completely, but it might create some confusion and give you an opening. Especially once the armory blows.”

That was more than he could’ve hoped for. It also explained why the sergeant had asked for so much time. “Thanks, Davis. We’ll see you soon.”

“I sure hope so. I want to tear you a new one for going off half-cocked like this. Look to the south and you might see some fireworks.”

Lewis changed channels. “Rick, keep an eye on the camp. See how they respond to the attacks. Especially due west.” That was the direction they planned to go, a direct line between the barn and safety. There wasn’t really any other option.

As his friend acknowledged the order Lewis gathered all the prisoners together. “All right, here’s the deal,” he said just loudly enough for everyone to hear. “The military is going to create some distractions. We’ll wait until we find the best opening we can, then we begin sneaking west through the tents. Stick to your groups, and try to stick with the larger group as well.”

There were nods all around, and Lewis continued. “If the enemy starts shooting at you we’ll do our best to take them out if it’s just a few. Keep heading west and trying not to be seen. If we’re caught and the blockheads really come after us in large numbers, anyone with a grenade chucks them: either at the enemies shooting at them, at a tent, or lob it as far as you can and hope it creates some confusion. Then we bolt for the edge of camp and don’t stop running until we hit mountains. We’ll have people out there covering us, but don’t expect any miracles.”

“How far?” Deb asked.

Lewis glanced over at her. “At least two miles.” There were despairing groans at that. “It’s going to be a hard run, maybe the hardest you’ve ever done. But things get better at the finish line.”

They continued waiting in nervous silence. In the distance, just at the edge of hearing, Lewis thought he heard explosions. After a few minutes he began hearing shouts from closer, within the camp. Then a loudspeaker blared in a foreign language.

“That’s done it,” Rick whispered. “Soldiers are stumbling out of their tents. They’re looking to the south. Now they’re heading back inside to get dressed and grab their weapons.” The loudspeaker blared again, more urgently, and his friend abruptly swore. “Now they’re tearing the camp apart, searching the tents and along each row.”