“Not bad,” Clem agreed, coolly firing the Enfield again.
Dropping his Kalashnikov, a blue shirt spun as the heavy-caliber slug took him in the ribs and he fell out of sight behind a crate.
“Let’s go!” Eagerly, Dean started off, intending to circle the clearing.
J.B. grabbed a fistful of shirt, stopping the boy. “Stay away from there,” the Armorer warned.
Nathan dropped a clip from his AK-47 and slid in his last. “Why?” he asked. “Looks perfect.”
“It is,” Ryan said, searching for Overton through the scope of his longblaster. “That’s the problem.”
Shoving shells into a shotgun, the sec man next to Nathan cried out and fell sprawling, a crimson stain spreading across his brown shirt
“What the? He was back-shot!” Ryan stated, and he whirled, firing from the hip. “The bastards got behind us somehow!”
Barely visible in the dying firelight, men were climbing over the ruined barricade on the dirt road. Rummaging in his munitions bag, J.B. quickly armed and fired the flare gun into the sky. As the rocket ignited, brilliant green light washed over the clearing, showing dozens upon dozens of armed sec men dressed in the fancy embroidered livery of Casanova ville.
“Look, that’s Baron Cawdor!” a sergeant shouted, pointing triumphantly.
“We found the secret base of Front Royal!” another cried out.
“So they were going to invade us!”
“Kill everybody!” roared a lieutenant, and the fresh troops opened fire with crossbows and a wide assortment of blasters, muzzle loaders, zip guns and patched bolt actions, apparently anything that could discharge a live round.
“Volley fire!” Overton ordered, and the blue shirts in the cave commenced a massive attack, emptying clips in seconds, only to slap in fresh magazines from a seemingly inexhaustible supply.
The tires blew out on the flatbed truck, headlights smashed, and the body rocked from the sheer amount of incoming lead. Caught between the two enemies, the companions hit the dirt and crawled away from the tilted vehicle, seeking refuge at the satellite dish. It offered less defense from bullets than the wag, but at least it had the loose dirt behind to cover their asses and didn’t have a gas tank to ignite.
“Road blocked, sec men coming in, truck gone, no way to reach the trees alive,” Doc muttered. “We are trapped.”
“Squeezed,” Jak said, brushing the snowy hair from his face. A furtive movement caught his attention, and the teenager spun and fired. A blue shirt cried out and died.
Clem calmly reloaded his longblaster. “Seen worse.” Their lieutenant shouting orders indecipherable to the companions over the gunplay, the Casanova troops moved into the clearing, intent on taking the cave, but Overton’s weapon forced them back. The enemy troops took position behind the boulder, sniping steadily at the cave opening. Ricochets zinged off the rock walls, rock chips and splinters peppering the companions.
“Look where they are!” Dean spit, slapping a fresh clip into his Browning. “I told you it was a perfect spot to attack the cave. They got a clear view of us and Overton, but we can’t hit them back!”
Unexpectedly, a blue shirt dashed from behind a pile of crates, heading for the campfire pit. He was viciously cut to pieces by the withering Casanova cross fire.
“Yes, it is perfect,” Ryan stated, thumbing a fresh rotary clip into his rifle.
Minutes passed with the three groups exchanging fire, but nothing more.
With a growing feeling of unease, Nathan realized that he was holding back in the fight, not daring to risk overexposing himself to the enemy fire. The news from Mildred had shaken him greatly, even though it was all good. His wife lived, and they had a son, an heir to the ville. But the baron couldn’t die until knowing for certain that Overton was dead and they were safe. The survival of his family was paramount, infinitely more important than the ville and its people. A good baron would die to protect his ville, but a father owed more than that to his family. And Nathan had a son, damn it. A son!
“What’s Overton waiting for?” Ryan demanded irritably.
The Deathlands warrior knew the boulder was a trap of some kind, probably buried explosives with hidden fuses. Fairly standard deployment, and it explained why the rock was so far away from the cave. Only a fool would leave a perfect location for enemies to snipe at his campsite completely unguarded, and for all the things he was, Overton was no fool. Hell, the Trader had used the same trick himself many times in the past. Ryan, too.