Wednesday at 1:50 p.m.
As events were unfolding in the formerly quiet retirement area called the Community, the array of individuals represented anything but community… and things began happening all at once in four distant areas of that neighborhood.
****
Task Force Wade
Roger checked his watch again. “So, Wade, when can we expect that first explosion?”
“Well, five minutes from three minutes ago would be about two minutes. Unless…”
Boom! The first homemade bomb sounded like the final blast of a public display for July Fourth, yet without any appreciable flash. Considerable smoke, however, from the area around the hay bales on the high part of the large, inclined, open expanse.
Even though Wade’s Warriors had set the bombs and lit their fuses, the first blast still jarred them all. Joe flattened out and Roger went to his knees.
Wade whistled. “Whoee! That was loud! Guess my fuse measuring went haywire somewheres. No telling when them puppies gonna bark.” He looked with pride at the column of smoke rising some fifty feet from the site.
Joe spit out some grass and Roger dusted himself off a bit; both made their way quickly to the unfinished duplex at the west end of Cordial. Roger helped Joe move several boards into position so he could climb to the upper level.
Wade’s new position, behind a small knoll, gave him and Roger excellent protection from the enemy but all they could see from that elevation were the tops of the Placid Lane duplexes to their north and east.
Though it didn’t take long for Wade to finish setting up Vegge-zilla, much of that time was lining up the end of his pipe with the Henleys’ deck. Wade figured that trajectory would send his missiles right into the enemy’s lap.
Setup and sighting-in was basically complete when Roger returned from helping Joe get situated in the observation post. “Got any plans for this thing?”
“What you mean, plans? You already saw it farring at Henley’s.”
“I meant like how it goes together.”
“Oh, simple. This hose on that fitting. Crank up the generator, fill the air tank.” Wade’s fingers indicated everything named. “Aim it somewheres, load the sucker. Grip and rip.”
“That’s about what I figured.”
Wade gave him a look. “Just because it wasn’t in no book, you don’t like it?”
“No, I’m not complaining.” Roger shook his head. “Just wondering if anybody else could operate it besides its inventor.”
“Inventor. I like that. A minute ago, I was just the maker.” Wade cranked the gas generator on the first try, turned on his compressor, and air began hissing into the ten-gallon tank.
Roger looked in the direction of the bombs near the hay bales. “What do you need from me?”
“We’ll start with the taters. Just keep my ammo coming and tell me what Joe signals in.”
****
Task Force Mitchell
Down at the church parking lot along Winston Court, Mitch’s Marauders had dropped to a crouch when Wade’s first bomb exploded.
“What the gee-gaw is that?” Steve had tensed.
“Just a big charge of powder.” Mitch liked possessing useful information in this awkward situation. Even though he’d never actually heard one of the blasts before, he figured an acting task force leader would pretend not to be surprised. “It’s a diversion to keep the gangsters pinned down and make them think we have more strength.”
“That sounded pretty strong.” Gary faced the direction it seemed to come from, but couldn’t see anything because of no-name-knob.
“Any more of them?” Steve looked in all directions and pointed when he saw a plume of smoke vaguely northeast.
“Tell you the truth, I don’t know.” Mitch wished he did, however. “With Wade, it’s more likely he’d have a dozen than just one.”
Nobody responded but Steve nodded.
Feeling rather isolated at the church parking lot with seven Legionnaires he’d never seen before, Mitch tried to buzz Pete on the walkie-talkie. No connection, just static.
“Let me see.” Gary grabbed it. “Man, this is an old one. Bet it wouldn’t reach a full mile even on a flat meadow. Plus, that hill’s in the way.” Gary pointed. “These cheap little toys won’t transmit through earth, especially not with all the rocks we got around here. Maybe when you get on top of that knob.”
“Well, I’m supposed to leave it with somebody here.” Mitch indicated the parking lot. “That’s part of Pete’s plan for Task Force Mitchell.”
Steve rolled his eyes with more exaggeration than was necessary.
“That’s what Pete named us. Wade suggested Mitch’s Marauders. Myself, I’d rather be at the barricade. Any questions?” He paused to scowl. “I’m supposed to leave a few here as a rear guard.” Mitch scrutinized the elderly men from the minivan. “Those three stay here, with this walkie-talkie. Not that it’s going to do much good. But you four and me — we head up there and get behind those gangsters.” Mitch wondered if he should frown a bit more.
“Simple enough. Pile in.” Gary started toward his SUV.
“Wait. I think we’re supposed to walk.” Mitch tried to scowl, but it probably just looked like minor panic. “Pete didn’t say anything about driving.”
Steve got right in his face. “Look, dude. I don’t know what on earth you’re doing here, but we ain’t going to walk ‘til we get within range of where they could see the vehicle. Got it?”
Gary’s version was slightly less tense. “My knee’s carrying shrapnel from ‘Nam. I don’t need any extra hikes. With these hills out here, we can drive a good ways before anybody at lower elevations can see us. You ride shotgun. When you spot the place they might could see us, we’ll walk from there. Okay?”
Mitch nodded.
“Give me the walkie-talkie.” Gary held out his hand. “I’ll go brief the old guys we’re leaving here.”
“Okay. Sure.” Mitch was distracted. Partly because the plan was already falling apart and partly because he didn’t know what on earth he’d stumbled into. He began frowning again, but was unaware of it.
All three designated guards got inside the minivan again and the driver backed up until he faced Whiskey Road, then left the engine running. Mitch could see one passenger was already trying to raise somebody on the walkie-talkie.
The SUV’s back seat had Steve sandwiched between Elmer and Ralph. Or Ralph and Elmer. Not sure. After Gary got in the driver’s door, he looked at his four passengers. “Okay, let’s roll.”
Mitch had wanted to say that.
****
Barricade
After the first bomb blast, everybody on the barricade had ducked except Deaf Lyin’ Leo, who just looked around. Once he saw everyone else crouching, he very stiffly assumed a similar position.
“What was that?” Diane’s voice was a minor screech.
Ashley looked like she wished she’d stayed in Richmond and gone to the mall.
Kelly smiled. “That’s one of Wade’s experimental homemade bombs. Got more powder than a hand grenade, he said. Out here in the open it’s a lot louder than the ones that were buffered through Pop’s woods.”
“Yikes.” Diane looked toward the direction of the sound. “Hope nobody gets too close.”
“No worry. Doesn’t fragment. Just a real loud boom and a bunch of smoke.” Kelly also enjoyed possessing useful information.
Pete spoke in the direction of Diane and Kelly, to his right. “After the mortar starts up and you get Lawrence on the horn, find out how many more explosions he’s got rigged.” He was pleased to note that Wade’s first bomb had flattened all the visible enemies like greasy pancakes. He thought he heard Baldy cursing loudly in threes, but Pete couldn’t make out the exact word. The robber nicknamed Chico crouched carefully. The thug who looked like a toad also squatted like a toad. Toady.
Just when the barricade defenders had almost relaxed again — Whump! The start of the first Vegge-zilla barrage.
Kelly called out, “Incoming! Everybody duck!”
The first potato hit right in front of barricade and disintegrated with a surprisingly loud splat.
Diane’s reaction was immediate: “Wow! I think even the skin exploded.”
Pete shouted the obvious, “Short round!” Then he grabbed Kelly’s shoulder. “Get word back to Lawrence to lower that tube!”
Reaching over Ashley, Kelly clutched Diane’s arm. “Call Joe’s cell. You two have the only working phones.”
Diane dialed and waited a moment. She looked impatient, then distressed. Then, over Ashley’s head, she abruptly held out the phone to Kelly. “Not Joe. It’s somebody else.”
Ashley looked like she’d rather be between any two other people on that barricade.
Kelly held one hand over her other ear and spoke into the phone briefly, then addressed Diane. “Joe left his phone with Roger. Remember?” Then Kelly returned her attention to the phone. “First round was short. Repeat, short. Very short, we almost got splattered. Forward about a hundred-fifty feet. One-five-oh feet.” She flipped the phone shut and handed it back.
Diane’s mouth hung open briefly. “Where’d you learn to talk like that?”
Kelly tried not to smile. “Mitch sometimes rents war movies.”
“You like war movies?”
“Not really. But I like watching stuff with Mitch.” Kelly looked toward the trucks and gangsters. “However, this afternoon, I’m quickly growing to appreciate his war flicks.”
“Here, you keep this for now.” Diane handed the phone back. “I don’t think I can talk that way.”
Ashley rolled her eyes and clutched her shovel handle even tighter.
After a few seconds, the second potato went slightly farther, but crashed through Helen’s garage window, shattering the visible glass and also obviously smashing something breakable inside her garage.
Pete motioned to Kelly, who made the call to Roger. “Second round was still too short. Repeat, still too short. Caused friendly collateral damage. Forward about a hundred feet. One-oh-oh feet.” Kelly wondered what the conversation was like between Roger and Wade.
Shortly, the third missile — the shortest yet — landed on the roof of Earl’s enormous Cadillac. Nobody really heard that one coming. You never hear the one with your name on it. It splattered Earl, Art, and Bernie, despite all three ducking slightly too late. It also left an ugly beige dent in the Caddy’s yellow roof.
Not waiting for a signal from Pete, Kelly quickly phoned Roger with the three-round summary and her suggested correction.
Pete had studiously noted the enemy camp’s reaction, including the recent tense pow-wow among Baldy, Chico, and Toady. After Wade’s first barrage, the haulers who’d started dispersing again had all scurried back to the trucks. Good sign. Lawrence’s diversion is slowing them down.
****
Task Force Wade
After the first potato, Joe had waved frantically to get Roger’s attention and then held his hands nearly six feet apart, as far as his arms could extend. Good thing the binoculars have a neck strap.
Roger quickly translated for Wade. “Aim longer for the next two rounds. First one was too short. Aim longer.”
When Joe’s phone rang in Roger’s pocket, he put on his glasses to answer. “It’s Kelly. She says it nearly hit the barricade line. Add one-five-oh feet.”
Wade looked at him like Roger was nuts, but made a trajectory adjustment anyway. Wade dropped the second potato down the tube and flinched as it went sailing.
Roger fielded the information from their spotter and the barricade caller.
“Maybe I didn’t tap it enough.” So Wade bumped his invention once more.
Wade’s Warriors were functioning smoothly so far. Wade made a cursory sighting along the pipe and fired the third potato.
Kelly called back and Roger nodded before he hung up.
She got any other complaints?”
“That last one hit the barricade. She says the potatoes are deadly, too much collateral damage. Better stick to the softer food groups.”
Looking annoyed at first, Wade then sighed. “Everybody’s always griping to me about food groups.”
****
Barricade
Kelly leaned over to Pete, on her immediate left. “Just talked to Roger again. Wade has five bombs total, so four more. He doesn’t know the exact interval but guesses about ten minutes apart.”
He nodded and spoke over Irene to tell Ellie. “Four more.” Pete held up as many fingers. Irene was the woman he’d fallen in love with and married, the one who’d borne his children and helped raise their grandchildren. Pete loved Irene deeply. But Ellie was the woman he wanted by his side in a battle.
Irene could clearly sense what her husband was feeling.
Noticing blood on her knee, Diane touched it with a finger and tasted it gingerly. She’d worn knee-length shorts and what might be considered a golf shirt. White ankle socks and sneakers.
Ashley rolled her eyes, more about Diane’s fashion sense than her small wound.
Kelly just looked curious.
Diane didn’t wait for the question. “Just a little blood.” Diane looked back over her shoulder toward the presumed location of Wade’s Vegge-zilla. “Guess I scraped it on the street when all those potatoes started flying.”
****
Task Force Mitchell
When Mitch had heard the first of three faint, spaced-out whumps in the distant northeast, he rolled down the SUV’s window. “That’s gotta be Wade’s Vegge-matic.”
Gary grunted. “Huh?”
“Nothing.” Mitch scowled briefly. Sergeant Henley had a good idea. “I’ll explain later.”
Gary sped up at the distant sounds of battle.
Mitch found himself gripping Gary’s door handle as the eager driver took all the curves so fast the right side tires slipped onto the shoulder a few times. “North on Winston. It’ll become South Pleasant in a minute, about there at the rise.” It involved nearly as much time for Mitch to narrate as it took Gary to drive it.
Gary screeched to a halt when he spotted the eighteen-wheeler across the road. “What the…?”
“Oh. I didn’t mention that wreck because I thought we’d be on foot across the field.” Mitch wondered if they suspected he’d merely forgotten due to stress and adrenaline.
“I ain’t walking from back here.” Steve clamped his jaws.
Gary craned his neck out of the window and eased forward slowly. “Not to worry. This baby’s got four-wheel drive. We can curl around the edge, if you guys hold your breath a bit.” A faint smile appeared on his lips. Beads of sweat formed on his scalp and drifted toward the ugly crease of shaved skin just above his neck.
The SUV only barely got back out of the ditch and Mitch did hold his breath while they were briefly bottomed out.
Steve exhaled loudly as the SUV got re-situated up on the narrow pavement.
“What’s with all the construction?” Gary nodded toward the intersection of South Pleasant and Serenity on his right. He seemed to try sounding nonchalant after his ditch maneuver.
Mitch finally exhaled also. “Bear left. Head north on Serenity.” He directed first and answered second — it seemed like a leadership thing to do. “That’s some kind of accident where a heavy truck and trailer carrying a dozer and a grader crushed a culvert. That’s why Pete barricaded his street — both these other roads are temporarily closed and the only way those hoodlums can get through is right in front of the Henley place.”
“I see about a thousand stinkin’ cars at this big complex on the left.” Steve growled. “What the gee-gaw is that?”
“Nursing home is part of it. Assisted living. Offices. Not sure.” Mitch would have preferred to be certain. “It’s attached — associated with this Community.”
“I still don’t see any gangsters or moving trucks.” Gary looked around. “Guess I’ll keep driving.”
“Yeah, go on up past the big complex. Now there’s Cordial that’s blocked on the other end by a utility trench.” Mitch pointed. “Keep going. That next one’s where Pete lives. Placid has the barricade, down and around that curve. Might not be able to see it from this end either. Slow down a bit.”
Mitch, Gary and Steve all looked to their right as the SUV moved slowly north on Serenity.
Neither Elmer nor Ralph had spoken a word on the entire trip so far. Though each had his own family and home, they spent a lot of time together — just the two of them. However, they seldom spoke; mostly they’d sit quietly together, often not even looking at each other. Occasionally, one would say something like, You remember when ole Bugg Rezin would scare the school girls by wiggling his sixth toe? And the other would smile and say, Yeah, it scared me too. Most often, they would remember their young lives growing up in this area during the Great Depression. Each probably thought about different aspects or even different periods. But occasionally their brains would simultaneously retrieve data about similar circumstances or events and both would smile. Exactly the same time. Not a word had been exchanged. People who observed this phenomenon would swear the brothers were telepathic, though neither actually claimed that ability.
Ahead to the northwest, Gary spotted the iron gate and three huge mounds of dirt nearby. “Looks like we’re on foot from here. Those the woods you say we’re supposed to traipse through?”
“Yeah.” Mitch nodded. “Even if we could make it across this construction area and those excavations, we can’t because they’d spot us too easy. Pete said to stay low and out of sight.”
Steve looked out over the open construction site. “Well, Henley ain’t here. I say we just haul butt down there and mix it up with them guys.”
“Slow down, Rambo.” Only Gary could get away with that crack. “Mitchell here said they’re armed to the teeth with semiautomatic weapons. Remember?”
“Yeah. Pete said keep to the woods,” Mitch pointed, “and nobody sees us but ants and spiders.”
“Wish he hadn’t mentioned spiders.” Either Elmer or Ralph; nobody knew which one.
Gary looked around the inside of the vehicle. “Anybody got a knife?”
There were four shrugs. But Elmer patted his pants pocket. Or maybe Ralph.
If Gary was going into the woods, he rightly wanted a knife.
Steve was agitated. “Let’s get this dog and pony show moving.”
All five out of the SUV, the Marauders looked at each other briefly and Mitch headed around the west side of the dirt mounds. Less than one-hundred-fifty feet to the north, the thick cuff of tall trees began. Mitch started out through the woods. The others followed, for about the first thirty feet.
“Look, this stinks!” Steve was no nature lover. “The rest of you can hike through these briars if you want, but I’m skirting around to the north. I know where I am now. That road over there connects 27 to Pine Mill, and there’s a creek somewhere between us and that road. If I can’t walk along the bank, I’ll just go through the creek bed. But I ain’t following this rookie through half a mile of thorns and spiders.”
Mitch tried to sound authoritative. “Look, Sergeant Henley specifically ordered me to keep you guys in the woods to preserve our stealth.”
Steve made a sound of utter disgust and turned to head out of the woods to the north. “You coming, Gary?”
Gary faced Mitch. “Steve’s got a point. Other side of the woods is just as stealthy as inside the woods. Lots quicker too. In ‘Nam we spent most of our time in the bush, but that’s because there wasn’t hardly any place that wasn’t bush. If there’s a clear bank over yonder, I’m taking it too. See you at the other end.”
Gary struck out, several paces behind Steve.
The two elderly brothers looked at each other. Elmer said, “Spiders,” and Ralph nodded. Or, the other way around.
“We’re going around the woods too,” said Ralph or Elmer. Both headed in the direction Steve and Gary had gone.
Mitch found himself alone again. Before, he was in the middle of a vast field of at least nine hundred acres. Presently, it was in the middle of a small patch of very heavy woods with briar, thorns, ants, and spiders. Mitch looked up at the trees. The sun was barely beyond midpoint. He checked his watch — 1:59 p.m. If you’re their appointed leader, you’d better catch up with them and get in front again.
So he did.
Mitch hustled out of the thick woods toward the north, hoping to intersect his four errant charges on the north edge of the woods. With considerable noise and a good deal of painful contact with inexhaustible briars which nearly suffocated the trees, Mitch finally broke out. He emerged slightly behind the surprised elderly brothers. “Spiders,” Mitch announced, which explained everything satisfactorily.
He made his way along the slope above the creek bed. Not much footing, but it was completely hidden from view by the gangsters. Steve and Gary had been correct. As he passed them, he said so. “Yeah. This is better. Good thinking.” Other good news: there were hardly any briars and thorns on that little shoulder of the cliff.
After Steve and Gary let him edge by, Mitch was in front again.
“Must’ve been a butter bar,” Steve muttered.
Mitch heard the comment and replied over his shoulder. “Nope. Never got past R-O-T-C.”
Gary chuckled. “Okay, I’ll follow Rot-Cee for a while.”