Fall Out

[The Stig]

If one had seen the Shelton City Hall from the air it would be easy to mistake it for a sports stadium. Night had fallen but every available outside spot, flood and vapor light was fully illuminated turning the area into an island of light. Men were on alert and the excitement of activity crackled through the air.

Lehman addressed an assemblage of nearly thirty men in a motor-pool area. The mixture of Troopers and Contractors revealed men with purpose. These were men who had been in the heat of battle and were hardened by its flame. From the expressions on their face, their posture and even equipment the aura of impending combat oozed from their very pores.

“Gentleman,” said Lehman loud enough for all assembled to hear. “Tonight we have the opportunity to crush the growing resistance movement. Tonight we have the chance to stop this infection on the countryside. Tonight you men will be the tip of Senator Donovan’s spear.”

As he paced before his men Lehman allowed himself to express excitement, or at least as much as he was able of generating.

“You’ve been given your mission and orders. I trust you will all perform your assigned tasks to the best of your abilities. If you do, I assure you we will be able to extinguish this festering rot in our area.”

In the background trucks moved into position and prepared to haul the men on their mission. Gears ground and engines rumbled. Even from across the compound they threatened to drown out Lehman.

“Your field commanders will go over last minute details. I realize this is a rushed operation and proper planning wasn’t completed. But the opportunity presented to us this afternoon requires speed for us to capitalize. I have faith that your skill will compensate for the operational challenges.”

Lehman continued, “Enough of my blabbering. Do what is expected of you tonight”.
With that Lehman turned and walked off.

One of the field commanders took the cue. “Alright men! He bellowed. Review your assignments and get your shit straight. We roll in six zero minutes!”

From a stairway across from the motor pool Glenn Hubbard took in the spectacle that unfolded before him. He knew where the men were going and what they were about to do.

More importantly, he knew what he was about to do.

****

About thirty minutes after Lehman ended his pep-talk to the Troopers, Clarissa Donner was cleaning dinner plates from the table.

“That was a great dinner sweetheart. Thanks” said Greg to his Daughter. Her ability to run a business, manage a farm and whip up some mean fried chicken always amazed him. Over the running water in the sink she replied back, “No problem Dad. I’m glad when we can share a dinner, just the two of us”.

The delicious smell of fried chicken hung in the dimly lit room as Greg maneuvered himself over to his easy chair. He longed for the days when he moved without pain. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Clarissa busied herself with cleaning up from dinner and other chores related to homemaking. With the exception of the countries turmoil it was an idyllic scene.

Knocking at the front door interrupted the calm scene. Other than startling the Donner’s the knock presented little cause for alarm. People looking for work would often knock on the farmhouse door to plead their case.

None of this prevented Greg from gripping the revolver he had stashed between the cushions of his easy chair. It never hurt to be prepared for unforeseen circumstances.

Looking back at her father, Clarissa Donner slowly opened the door.

“Can I help you?” she asked of the young man.

“Miss, I sure hope it’s the other way round”

Seeing the look of confusion on her face the man continued, “I know this will all sound crazy but we don’t have much time. If you’ll give me five minutes you’ll know everything I’m saying is true”.

Clarissa made a snap judgment and opened the door to allow the man to enter. Years of experience hiring people gave her an eye for sincerity. She prayed she was making the right choice.

****

Another day of fighting ground down the defending forces as they clung desperately to their enclaves, fighting positions and rubble on the south bank of the Ohio. The Battle of Cincinnati was becoming an epic struggle.

Crutchfield’s forces continued to pour across the river on the western bridge, make the twenty-mile dash to the scene of the fighting and join the fray. Their opposite numbers were doing the same from the East. They faced the disadvantage of making the same trip on foot however. Still the terrain and situation favored the defenders. In addition to filtering in men and munitions, the President unleashed some of his airpower to harass Crutchfield’s forces. This served to further slow their progress.

The use of his airpower also served to cut off Crutchfield’s forces in Lexington. Several supply planes had been shot down as they made the scud run into the enclave. Further, the men moving across Kentucky to the fight in Cincinnati served to cut off any Crutchfield forces from moving down Interstate I64 from Ashland to reinforce the men in Lexington. Like men sixty years before them they were cut off and had no choice other than to dig in and await their brothers arrival.

In an effort to mask their true intentions, the President also launched attacks on Harrisburg Pennsylvania. Should they prove successful troops could march on Pittsburgh and head north to cut Crutchfield’s territories in half. Alternativley, they could head North East towards Allentown. Either way, the attacks occupied Crutchfield’s military leadership and kept them hopping.

Meanwhile, while the battle raged in Cincinnati, the President was moving significant military forces into the Richmond Kentucky area while Crutchfield remained unawares. His attention was focused on Cincinnati and elsewhere. The trap was being set.

****

Miller pushed the farm truck hard as he took the back roads and farm tracks on the way back to ClarMar farms. The old truck groaned and shook as Miller drove faster than he dared.

This would be a bad time to bust a tire or break an axle.

The information provided to him by Alec Lehman’s investigations man painted a dire picture. Julie Dawson, the amateur spy who gave her life for Miller’s cause, resisted the torture. She took the physical abuse handed out but in the end it only took two words for all that Miller and DeMetrie had worked for to be placed in jeopardy.

“ClarMar Farms” finally escaped her bloody and swollen lips after several hours of torture and humiliation.

He had learned long ago to turn himself off to the pain he felt. There would be time later to think about how he caused the death of this young woman.

Miller had tried to call to warn Clarissa but the phone lines were down. Phone service had been spotty lately and tonight fate conspired against Miller. He cursed the luck as he dashed hurriedly back to the truck.

“Guess I’ll do the Paul Revere tonight,” he said as the turned over the engine.

So he found himself driving as fast as he dared, eyes straining in the night to pick out features. Hands gripping the wheel tightly.

It was a race against time and he knew it.

[bacpacker]

The suspense keeps growing.
Having been up I 75 and around Cinci many times over the years I can just see the battle taking place. Great descriptios.

[The Stig]

As the pickup screamed down the long dirt driveway of ClarMar Farms, Miller hoped that someone at he farm didn’t mistake him for someone with more violent intentions. He had considered going directly to the compound that had been serving as their headquarters first to get DeMetrie and whatever men might be available but decided going to the house first was more important.

“Miller, don’t screw this up” he thought to himself as the skidded the truck to a halt in front of the old farmhouse. It had barely stopped moving before he was out of the door and dashing up the wooden steps to the house. The truck was left at a nearly ninety degree angle to the house, almost at the bottom of the stairs. Figuring this wasn’t the time to worry about landscaping, Miller chose the more unorthodox parking spot.

Before he got to the top of the stairs he yelled out, “Open the door Clarissa!”

He was somewhat surprised to see it yanked open by the shotgun wielding Clarissa. “Thank God it’s you Miller.” He could see the panic on her face.

Before she could continue any further he immediately noticed Glenn Hubbard in the corner of the kitchen. Hubbard was smart enough to stand in an unthreatening manner with his hands clearly visible. Perhaps more importantly, they were empty.

Greg Donner, sensing what was about to happen, piped up, “This one claims the Troopers are about to come calling. Not sure if I buy it.”

Miller always had a gift for prioritizing data and not getting sidetracked. Tonight would prove no different. “Greg. He’s telling the truth. Go get the bags from the closet. Stack them in front of the door.”

Greg nodded and began shuffling off towards the back room.

Turning to the clearly shaken Clarissa he continued. “Get the guns, stack them at the front door. Do it.”

As she ran out on her assigned tasked he finally turned to Hubbard. “You stay right where you are at. Now’s a bad time to push your luck by trying anything. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Hubbard was about to reply but realized it would be pointless as Miller was already half way up the stairs towards the second floor. The look in Miller’s eye convinced him that staying in the corner was a good idea.

****

DeMetrie was pouring over a map and considering the ramifications of various tactical activities when the hardwired field phone suddenly clanged to life. Calls from the farmhouse weren’t uncommon but rarely did they happen this late into the evening.

Following the protocols he and Miller had worked out months back he picked up the phone handset and said “Green” into the receiver nearly simultaneously.

“15” came the reply.

As the Captain was gearing up for the next challenge he was startled to hear Miller’s voice boom out of the phone.

“Get whoever’s there to the farmhouse now Mike. Troopers inbound and they mean business. Likely twenty or thirty. Fully armed and ready for a fight. This isn’t a random inspection.”

DeMetrie knew Miller wasn’t a man prone to dramatics and sensed immediately the seriousness of the situation.

“How long?”

“You’ve got one five minutes max. Probably less.”

“Exfil plan?”

There was no pause as Miller said, “Exfil Romeo”

“Hang tight Miller. I’ll be there.”

“Mike, be sure to call in Caddy’s team. And let them know to rendezvous.

“Wilco. Be safe.”

The phone was barely back in the cradle before Miller called out to the three men he had on hand. His three plus Miller trying to respond to a force of thirty fighting men was not ideal. Even the most degenerate gambler wouldn’t buck the odds on that bet.

As the men responded to their commander, and began scurrying to gather gear, he immediately got on the radio equipment their friend Jason Klepper had so kindly acquired for them.

He hoped his radio call wouldn’t come at a bad time for his men in the field.

He needed his men now more than ever.

****

“Son,” Miller said to Hubbard. “You’ve got thirty seconds to explain your intentions.” Greg and Clarissa had given Miller the short version of the warning the young investigator had provided them about the impending attack on ClarMar Farms.

He was placing rifle magazines in his pockets while Greg and Clarissa scurried about the house attending to their assigned tasks.

Hubbard measured his words carefully before responding. Just as he began to speak he was startled by the metallic clanging sound of the AR15 bolt slamming a round home in the chamber of Miller’s rifle.

“Sir, I know Caddy. I worked for him and I know he is…. affiliated…with your group here.” Hubbard paused to gage Miller’s response. Not knowing what to make of Miller’s indifference to the comment he continued on.

“The Troopers and Lehman are out of control. They killed a girl and are planning to do it again tonight. I know how they treated Caddy.” Hubbard almost spat out the words and the venom in his voice was clear. “You people don’t deserve this”.

Miller continued to don the gear that had been placed on the table near him.

“Greg, when you are done with that, get out to the truck.” Turning to Greg’s daughter he continued, “Start moving the gear to the truck. No extra trips.”

Finally looking up to recognize Hubbard, “What’s your plan from here?”.

The question took the young investigator by surprise. For a man who usually thought things through and considered all the angles, he really hadn’t thought things out that far.

Miller, sensing there would be no answer forthcoming, and not wanting to waste any time, pressed on. “Son, you have two choices. Stay with us and will sort this out later.”

Hubbard replied with, “and option two?”

“Run like hell”. Miller didn’t wait for the reply and ran to the basement.

[The Stig]

The heat of the night, combined with the sand and bugs, had worn off the excitement of the adventure Caddy, Lowry and Reynolds had been on for the past few days.

They weren’t too proud to hide it. They were in their element and where they were most comfortable. They had spent days in the field killing, wounding, harassing and obstructing the Troopers. Guards had been shot. Truck drivers had been sniped. Supplies destroyed. Bridges exploded. Checkpoints ambushed. They were on a rampage and the toll was starting to mount on the Troopers and Contractors that had been working in the Northeastern corner of the county.

The three men, covered in sweat and grime, had taken a break for a quick meal. None of the men spoke, and when they did it was in hushed whispers. They made every effort to eliminate or minimize noise. Fire was out of the question. Movement’s were deliberate and designed to disguise their true intentions.

In short the team had become ghosts in a pine forest.

Just as Lowry was digging into this shirt to fish out a tepidly warmed MRE pouch the radio earpieces crackled to life. Although embedded into their ears, and nearly inaudible beyond a few feet the noise was like cannon fire on a still summer morning.

“Ghost five, this is Ghost one. Over.”

The sudden radio transmission startled all three men. They looked at each other questioningly as they had been observing strict radio silence. While the chances of being found were slim, they took no chances, thus they had no intentions of using the radios except in extreme emergencies.

Whispering into the microphone Lowry replied, “Ghost one, this is Ghost five, go ahead.”

“Cease current operation. Break. Proceed to point Romeo immediate. No actions in transit. Break. Homestead compromised expect entire congregation. Expect possible hot reception. Break. In case of broken action proceed to rally point Tango. Read back. Ghost one over.”

Caddy and Reynolds looked at each other as Lowry repeated back the Captains command.

“Be safe boys. Ghost one out.”

It wasn’t like the Captain to put personal comments in an open transmission. Face to face he was a surprisingly affectionate leader but over a radio he was all business.

The men knew the situation was grave.

Without speaking the men policed any trash they had inadvertently left behind and began the walk to point Romeo. If they were lucky, and avoided detection, they might reach the destination by later the following morning.

There wasn’t anything to be said anyway. DeMetries orders made clear ClarMar Farms was being attacked and the entire group would be attempting an escape from the Southern District.

****

Miller worked quickly to grab several containers of supplies he knew Greg would never be able to retrieve because of his physical condition. After tossing them to the top of the stairs, he returned to a small safe hidden behind some boxes. Grabbing out a small black bag and a larger knapsack he turned and dashed up the stairs.

His plan was simple. He’d drive the Donner’s away from the farm and in the general direction of Point Romeo, the assigned meeting location in the event they ever needed to evacuate the farm. He hoped to miss the Troopers by driving out a side field which led to a path had had been cleared for just such a purpose.

If they were able to pull this off DeMetrie and his men would simply disappear into the night and make their way to point Romeo to link up. If Miller got caught, or got into a shootout with the Troopers DeMetrie would, in theory, ride to the rescue.

Miller wondered who would ride to DeMetrie’s rescue in that event. Best case he’d have five men with him as Caddy’s team was in the field. Even if they had been around, nine men against thirty well trained enemies were long odds.

All they needed was a little luck to be able to get away just ahead of the troopers. He knew he would be cutting it close. He had done the mental calculations once Lehman’s lead investigations man revealed the plan to attack the farm and there was scant time to reach the farm, gather everything up and leave before the attack commenced.

The lead investigations man had been a wealth of useful information. Miller would have to wait to act on the more interesting secrets that had been revealed until a more suitable time.

As he turned to dash towards the stairs and his truck, he was surprised by the sound of gunfire.

“Shit” he said aloud as he leapt up the stairs.

All they needed was a little luck. It was clear that luck would not be on their side tonight.

****

[ak474u]

ruh roh, bout to get ugly.

[bacpacker]

Bad times comin!

[The Stig]

“You are doing what?” screamed the irate Senator Donovan. His aide, an impish man, was alarmed at how fast the Senator’s face had turned purple and had to dodge the fountain of spittle that was projected through the air by the man’s anger.

After a few seconds the Senator continued.

“I don’t care what reason you have, you know that farm is of particular interest to me. You shouldn’t be driving past the front fucking gate let alone assaulting it.”

The Senator had started to pace as he listened to his end of the conversation. It was clear the person on the other end wasn’t having a good time of it.

“Listen to me you twit. Call off your men.” The aide found a good reason to appear busy on the other side of the office to avoid being caught up in the tidal wave of anger erupting from his employer.

For a brief second he wondered what possible sin the other participant in the conversation could have committed to warrant the Senator’s sudden wrath.

The Senator’s pacing suddenly stopped. “You’ve fucked this up worse than a football bat. I’ll be there in the morning”. With that he ended the call.

Collecting himself for a few seconds he turned to his aide. “Rework the schedule. Have the plane ready to go first thing in the morning. We’re going to Shelton to straighten this mess out.”

The aide was smart enough to simply nod his agreement and leave the room to begin the task of reworking everything he had finalized a few hours before.

****

After another full day’s fighting around the south side of Cincinnati, Crutchfield’s forces were no closer to securing the area and heading south towards Lexington than they were twenty-four hours earlier. The defenders seemed to hold onto every block with a vengeance. In some cases battles erupted between rooms of individual houses. The men fighting on behalf of a united America knew they were fighting not only for their country but their lives. There would be no retreating from this battle.

In an odd way, both situations mirrored the others. Crutchfield’s men were trapped in Lexington awaiting relief from forces north of them. President Alan’s men were trapped just across the river from Cincinnati and waited for relief from the forces gathered to the south of them.

Crutchfield’s men in Lexington had been confident but growing pangs of doubt began to cloud their commander’s minds. The first sign of trouble was when the supply aircraft began to dwindle from somewhat regular landings to a trickle to disappearing altogether. Further fueling the worry were the increasing skirmishes on the southern and eastern portions of the city. Resistance was nil for a short time after they captured the city. For a brief time some of the soldiers felt they might not have a fight before the main force arrived.

Now it was clear that wasn’t going to be the case.

Firefights, skirmishes and full-on assaults were becoming more and more frequent as the hours ticked by.

It was clear the President’s men were probing and testing the lines for weakness.

The forces gathered to the south of Lexington were nearly ready to begin moving north. Advanced elements were the ones looking for holes in the lines. Crutchfield’s plans were built around speed and surprise thus there weren’t enough men in Lexington to hold it completely. There were parts of the defenses that were thin, if not absent altogether.

It had been the source of much angst for the field commanders.

Now it was growing from worry to full-blown obsession. They had the benefit of using interior lines to respond to various threats. Several response forces raced to put out one fire after another.

The number and frequency of fires were increasing with every hour.

****

Miller cleared the basement stairs in three steps as he vaulted himself towards the front of the house. The single shot that had punctuated the silence was followed by more shots. As he entered the main room he saw Clarissa kneeling at the front door, using the door jam as concealment as she calmly fired rounds. Her former husband, a military man, had taught her well and she fired deliberate shots and took the time to aim as best she could.

As he took up a position at the front window and prepared to smash it he quickly grasped the situation. Troopers were advancing from an arc that fanned out from the front of the house towards the entrance of the farm. Miller knew immediately the Troopers would send forces towards the house from the side and rear along with the front. Making a mad dash to safety in the truck was out of the question.

“Miller, this is bad,” yelled Clarissa.

Without looking back in her direction he hurled a small end-table through the large picture window in the front room. He wanted an unobstructed shot but also hoped it would draw fire from the front door where Clarissa was firing. It worked and bullets soon smacked into the wood siding around the window frame.

Shouting back over the growing noise of rifle fire, Miller shouted, “Clarissa” until he got her attention. “Just shoot to keep them from moving forward.”

Nodding her head at his quizzical instruction she returned to firing slowly and methodically.

Reaching down into one of the bags Greg had brought him and retrieved one of the grenades DeMetrie had provided them when he left the Army. They had been set aside for just such an emergency purpose and DeMetrie’s edict to ruthlessly horde them proved wise.

Pulling the pin he threw it as hard as he could in the general direction of some of the Troopers.

Essentially he was stalling.

He wanted to keep the Troopers head’s down long to either find an opportunity to escape or DeMetrie to join the fight. If the chance presented itself to take out a Trooper he’d take it, otherwise the last thing he wanted was a slugging match.

The grenade exploded with a thunderous roar. Metal fragments shot out in all directions. None found their mark but the device did exactly what Miller wanted. The Troopers suddenly realized the people fighting back weren’t hick farmers. High explosives communicated the message effectively.

After firing several shots at Troopers that hadn’t found cover yet Miller again yelled to Clarissa, “how many bags are in the truck?”

“Almost all of them”

Pressing the trigger several more times Miller suddenly realized he faced a new problem.

Greg was pinned down behind the truck and couldn’t get back to the house.

[The Stig]

Lehman paced in his office. He wasn’t a man to be afraid of anyone, however, he realized the situation before him. He had credible evidence something was amiss at ClarMar Farms and they were likely part of the resistance movement. His duty, as he saw it, was to address the situation.

On the other hand, Senator Donovan was clearly the boss and not someone who appreciated subordinates ignoring his direction. He made it plain Lehman was to call off the Troopers on their way to the farm.

As he weighed his limited options one of the operations men called on the intercom.

“Sir, you need to come of the operations center.”

Mashing down the button he replied, “Situation?”

“The team is encountering resistance.”

Simply pulling the team out before anything happened suddenly ceased to be an option.

“Details?”

“Sir, you should come to the op center. They are facing small arms fire and possibly grenades.”

Lehman didn’t reply as he took several long strides to cross his office.

His life had suddenly become very complicated.

****

“Where the hell is DeMetrie” Miller thought to himself as rifle rounds whistled through the air and thudded into the wood siding of the house. Even after only several minutes the old farm house was showing signs of wilting under the pressure of repeated rifle rounds.

Thinking quickly Miller hurled several smoke grenades from his bag through the front window to provide a scant amount of cover to Greg at the truck. The cover wouldn’t help for long as the Troopers and Contractors were sure to have thermal imaging devices of some sort. Knowing the danger was coming from all sides he ran to the back of the house and quickly tossed an additional smoke grenade through the back door. He was relieved that no gunfire came from that direction but he knew men were moving into position.

Before he returned to his living room firing position he again yelled out to Clarissa. “Is Greg injured? Does he have a rifle?”

Miller couldn’t hear the pop’s of rifle fire from Greg over the noise from inside the house. But the old Marine didn’t take being shot at well. He was fortunate to have a rifle lying against the truck when the fight broke out. He hadn’t been hit so far, but he knew the situation was bad. Old instincts took over and he took a position behind the front tire, in the relative safety of the engine block. Dropping to the ground he began firing back as best he could.

“No. I don’t think so” was the reply.

“DeMetrie will be here soon. When he does, we’re getting the hell out of here”.

Making the run to safety in the truck wasn’t much of a plan. This one was even more rudimentary.

Miller wondered where the hell DeMetrie was.

****

The Troopers had parked a distance away from the farm to avoid alerting anyone at the farm of their approach. Most of their men had carefully approached the home from the front. Following sound practices, however, they also sent men to approach the house from the rear. They had not fully been in position when the first shot happened.

It was dumb luck that Greg happened to be near the front of the truck and sensed something being out of place. Maybe it was a stray noise. Perhaps his aging eyes saw something in the darkness. Either way, his old instincts proved accurate as he scampered behind the truck seconds before the Trooper shot at him.

They had not planned on engaging anyone at the farm, but when it was clear they wouldn’t have surprise to mask their assault the Troopers acted and fired.

The rear team stopped their advance when the fight at the front of the house broke out to access the situation. It quickly became apparent that nobody was shooting back at them and their methodical move towards the house continued.

They were about seventy-five yards away when the rear door suddenly flew open and quickly closed again. This again caused the Troopers to dive to cover in anticipation of being fired upon. A small cloud of smoke poured out of a smoke canister that had been hastily thrown out the door.

****

The distance from the compound to the Farm wasn’t much. DeMetrie was smart enough not to run right to the farmhouse however. Miller’s warning of twenty to thirty men meant that running to join Miller would only prolong the inevitable. They would slowly be torn to pieces. Worse yet, the Troopers could call in reinforcements while DeMetrie had nobody to come to his rescue. Caddy’s team was too far away and on foot. They were alone.

Instead, he chose to maneuver to a more advantageous position before engaging the Troopers. The driveway formed a large U shape at the termination of the driveway. There were several buildings scattered around the perimeter of the U. The farmhouse was on the right side of the U while most of the buildings were to the left. They presented DeMetrie a limited amount of concealment while he tried to get where he could multiply the effects of his small number of men.

It was classic military doctrine. Engage, flank the enemy, move forward.

[cwconnertx]

Love it!

[bacpacker]

Very good