Nathan Jones - Shortage

Trev nodded and fell silent, the only sound the creak of the wagon behind him and the soft clink of bottles knocking together through their cloth wrappings. He glanced at the small group of people following close behind, armed and grim faced, ready to defend their homes and their lives. “Do you think we can win?”

Matt snorted. “Not a fan of that question. You know what we’re up against. We’ve planned a good defense but things can always go wrong, especially against a well equipped enemy that knows what they’re doing. We’ll just have to hope our people shoot good and the enemy isn’t ready for us.”

“At least we’ve got numbers and the ground advantage,” Trev said. But he had to fight down the nagging worry that they might lose a whole lot of friends tonight.

They reached the roadblock and Matt made a few last minute preparations organizing the defenses there. While he was doing that Trev hopped up onto the roof of a car and looked down the road, hoping for a glimpse of Ferris’s convoy even though he knew he wouldn’t get one. There was a fairly tall hill between the roadblock and where Lewis had said the trucks were parked.

He hoped his cousin was okay.

Then, aside from quiet voices on their turned down radios as people checked in, they waited in silence as the sun sank towards the horizon.

As the top of its fiery rim dropped below the mountains to the west Matt’s radio crackled and Catherine Tillman spoke. “That’s six hours, near enough. He was probably measuring it by sundown too. I wish I could be with you there, but little as I like it the arguments for me staying to organize the noncombatants were persuasive. I leave the town’s defense in your care, and pray everyone will be ready for—”

Her impromptu speech was abruptly interrupted by a trilling call from another radio. “There’s movement here,” Lewis whispered as the Mayor fell quiet. “Ferris has gotten into the lead truck with Turner on the .50 cal and they’re headed your way.”

Matt lifted his radio to respond.“The whole convoy?”

“No. Sorry, that was a bit vague. Just that one truck. Looks like Ferris is going to see the town’s response before doing anything else.” There was a brief pause. “I’m going to stick around here so I can give warning if the rest of the convoy unexpectedly moves.”

“I authorize you to speak on behalf of the town, Matt,” Catherine said once she was sure Lewis was done talking. “Aspen Hill’s defense is in your care.”

Matt nodded and pushed the talk button again. “Okay everyone, this is it. Do your jobs and be careful.”

Over the chorus of affirmatives he heard the deep rumble of the approaching truck. It sped into view not long afterwards, but braked suddenly with a squeal of tires far enough away to make even a shouted conversation impossible.

Ferris once again popped out behind the passenger side door with the megaphone. “I don’t see any goodies piled up outside the roadblock,” he said, and at that distance his words were hard to make out even with the electronic aid. “If you’re late to comply you’ve got ten seconds to let me know. Then we do this the hard way.”

There was no way Matt could shout a response from so far away, and anyway they had nothing to say that the bureaucrat-turned-raider wanted to hear. So while Ferris casually began counting down Matt lifted his rifle and sighted in on the truck.

He doubted he’d be able to get a good shot off on Ferris, hidden behind the door of a military vehicle, and anyway he didn’t really want to shoot the man during what could technically be considered a truce. Instead he moved his crosshairs to the center of the truck’s windshield, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger.

His shot ricocheted off the reinforced glass more or less where he’d aimed it, leaving a small spiderweb of cracks. Ferris abruptly stopped counting, turning to look at Matt’s reply. Then the megaphone boomed his voice once more. “So that’s your answer? I’m disappointed, Larson. You’ve made the wrong choice. The deaths of hundreds of people will be on your head.”

The raider leader ducked back into his truck and slammed the door, and almost immediately the heavy vehicle peeled out as it flipped an awkward U-turn off the shoulder of the road.

Matt was so busy watching the truck that he almost didn’t notice Turner up behind the .50 cal manhandling the big gun to point towards the roadblock. When he finally saw it he barely had time to scream a warning for everyone to get behind cover, even as he leapt off the roadblock and flattened himself on the road behind the piled up debris.

For the second time that day he heard the roar of the mounted gun, but this time it wasn’t a demonstration. Over the distant noise of the shots he heard a swift succession of pings like the loudest hailstorm in the world, along with quieter thuds. He raised his head to see sparks flying from the furniture, the cars, and the buildings to either side as the spray of bullets panned over them.

He also heard lots of screaming, and although most of it was terror he had the sick feeling that at least a few voices among the chorus were shouting in pain.

After what seemed like an eternity but couldn’t have been longer than ten seconds the spray of gunfire ceased, probably because the truck had gone out of range or the .50 cal couldn’t turn enough to point straight backwards.

The radio was going crazy with voices asking what had happened, what was going on. Lewis’s was among them. Matt stumbled to his feet and peered cautiously over the roadblock in time to see the taillights of the truck disappear.

He was shaking, and in his shocked state he wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or rage. Turner had shot at them. Shot at them with a big gun intended to inflict as much damage as possible.

“Anyone hurt?” he shouted. There was more than one “yes” answer to that, and he grit his teeth and lifted his radio. “Quiet!” he screamed over the babble on the airwaves. Most of the voices he heard kept talking until he identified himself and yelled for quiet again. “What’s happening is that Ferris made it clear he’s going to kill us all if he can, and before leaving to get his men he had Turner shoot up Roadblock 1 with his .50 cal to make his point. Terry, I need you here as fast as you can.”

His brother-in-law hastily replied he was on his way, but Matt barely heard it as he spoke again. “Lewis, what’s going on?”

His friend was quick to respond. “Ferris is back and from the looks of it the whole convoy is gearing up for an attack. They’ve—” He cut off, then continued in a different tone. “Matt, we were right to worry about the weaponry they brought with them. With what I see down there they could blast right through the roadblock and blow up any building we tried to snipe at them from. Whatever Ferris’s plan is, it’s going to be bad for us.”

Matt felt his face pale, and when he replied he did his best to keep his voice from shaking. “Roger that, we’ll clear the roadblock.”

There was a long pause before Lewis continued quietly. “Turner fired at you. The gloves are off, right?”

Gritting his teeth, Matt looked towards a clear patch of ground where the town’s defenders were gently carrying the wounded. Three people, none fatal but all serious. Getting hit by a bullet that big moving that fast usually was. And if Lewis was right they’d only be the first of many casualties tonight. “Yeah, the gloves are off. Why?”

“I’m going to do what I can to stop the attack, or at least slow it down.”

Matt sucked in a breath. Trev had a lot of faith in his cousin’s ability to find answers, and Matt had to admit that some of that faith had rubbed off on him. “Sounds good. What did you have in mind?”