The Guardians (11 page)

Mildred kneeled down in front of Haley's chair, wrapped her arms around poor little Haley, and the two began to cry together.  "We will never let anything bad happen to you again.  You will always have a home here," Mildred said through the tears.

"Amen to that," said Ollie as he looked up towards heaven and thanked God silently that he had led them to her.

Just then, they heard their dogs barking at something outside.  Ollie jumped up, grabbed his shotgun, and headed over to the window.  The tension in his gut immediately went away as he noticed Evan, approaching by himself via the middle of the road as usual.  Ollie opened the door and gave him a wave.  Evan then motioned behind him and around the corner came Molly, driving the Baird's old Ford tractor pulling a utility trailer with Judith, and Griff on board.  As they pulled alongside Evan, he hopped up onto the trailer and joined them for a ride on up to the house.

Mildred and Haley joined Ollie on the front porch to welcome them on in.  "To what honor do we owe this visit?" asked Mildred. 

"Well, Judith and I heard you had a young lady over here that may want some pretty new clothes," Molly said. "Judith and I are gonna take some measurements, with her permission of course, and we are going to see what we can whip up.  Linda Cox donated some very beautiful fabrics and some patterns for the project as well," Molly said with a smile.

"Oh how nice of you all.  Come on in for some pie.  It's fresh out of the oven," Mildred said as she and Haley led the two women into the house.

On their way into the house, Haley turned to Evan and Ollie and said, "Where is the other man?"

"Which other man?" asked Evan.

"The one who unchained me and got me out of the bathroom," she replied.

"Oh, that's Jason.  He's back at our place keeping an eye on things," said Evan.

"Well, tell him he is my hero.  I'll never forget him for that," she said with a smile.

"Will do Ma'am," Evan said as he tipped his hat to her with a nod.

As the ladies entered the house and closed the door, leaving the men alone on the porch, Evan turned to Ollie and said, "Ollie, you know you can all come over to the Homefront with us if things get anymore out of hand around here.  If nothing else, do it for the sake of Mildred and Haley.  You've got that old travel trailer out back that you could bring over and we would get you hooked up to our well water and everything."

"Yea, there is safety in numbers, and we've got the numbers and the guns," added Griff.

"Well thanks fellas, but we're fine here for now," Ollie replied.

"We figured you'd say that so we brought you something," Evan said as he pulled a rifle out of the trailer.  "It's a Ruger American in good ol' .30-06'.  The scope is zeroed in and she's ready to go.  It may be a basic hunting rifle, but on this large property you may need to hold someone off further than that shotgun or .45 is good for."

"Here's a box of three hundred rounds of ammo too" said Griff as he handed it to Ollie.

"Well thank you boys.  I really appreciate it," Ollie said.  "And don't worry; if it comes down to it I'll bring Mildred and Haley over.  We are happy here for now though."

"Good enough," said Evan.

"So how about that pie?" asked Griff.

****

Chapter 10: A Culmination of Events

With a bump Nate was jarred awake.  "Welcome back to the world Sleeping Beauty," said Sargent Wilson. 

"Oh crap, sorry," said Nate as he gathered his presence of mind realizing it was now almost two o'clock in the morning.  "Ah man, how long was I out?"

"A little more than an hour," said Sargent Wilson.  "Don't worry, you didn't miss much.  Just dry Texas desert.  Climb back in the back and get out that mid sized OD green bag.  It's got a thermos with some coffee in it.  Dig it out and pour us both a cup."

"Sounds like exactly what I need," Nate said as he unbuckled his seat belt and climbed back to the rear of the truck.  He dug around through several bags and could not find the coffee.  "Where did you say the coffee was? he asked.

"The OD green bag.  No wait, my mistake, it's in the desert camo duffel, Sargent Wilson replied.

"Oh here it is," Nate said as he pulled it from the bag and turned to show Sargent Wilson.  As he turned and looked forward, he heard a loud POP followed by the windshield of the Humvee shattering.  Sargent Wilson's head flung back as his brain matter and bits of skull and blood splattered all over Nate's face.  The truck swerved violently to the right and plummeted into a large irrigation ditch, rolling onto its top in about two feet of standing water. 

Nate was pinned against the ceiling, nearly buried by the bags of gear and other supplies that were left loose in the rear cargo area.  He struggled to hold his breath as his head was under water.  The damage to the top of the vehicle, combined with the load bearing down on him made it difficult to move, but he finally managed to get into a position where he could breath.  There was complete darkness.  He struggled to get his senses about him with his head now above water.  He could hear gunfire in the distance.  It sounded as if it was coming from where they had previously been driving on the road.  The rest of the guys must be fighting them off he thought.  It seemed like an eternity waiting for it to end.  Surely, Shock and the guys would come down to check on him and Sargent Wilson when they got things under control. 

His left leg was throbbing.  In the position he was in, he could not move it.  It seemed pinned down by something.  Being as confined as he was and in total darkness, he could not tell by what.  Eventually the gunfire began to subside.  Any minute now and they will come down to get us he thought. 

As the gunfire came to a halt, he could hear screaming off in the distance.  It was a loud, agonizing, torturous scream.  What in the hell is going on he thought?  He soon realized that the screams were coming from Shock.  It was as plain as day to him now.  All of a sudden, he felt sick as he realized the TSG guys had not won the fight.  Shock's agonizing screams slowly subsided, and then stopped.  Nate's imagination raced as he could not help but wonder what sort of inhumane form of death was dealt to him. 

Terror then set in as he realized that if they came down to check on his Humvee, if they found him alive, he would almost certainly face the same sort of gruesome death.  His mind raced trying to figure out a defensive strategy, but in his state, he simply had few options.  His Beretta was on his side, but his shotgun along with Sargent Wilson's M4 carbine was somewhere in the front of the vehicle just out of reach.  He dug down under the water to find his pistol and struggled to unholster it in his tight confines.  Once he got it freed, he held it above the water to try to drain and contaminants from it in order to make sure it was battle ready.  In his panic induced haste and due to the tight quarters and the total darkness his surroundings, Nate accidentally hit the pistol against the aluminum of the truck.  As he felt and heard the thud, his heart skipped a beat in terror.  Crap! He thought to himself.  Did they hear that?  Holy crap.  Thay had to have heard that.  His pulse raced as he tuned his ears to the outside world and tried to hear movement outside of the truck. 

After a few moments that felt like an eternity, he heard boots sliding down the side of the hill as some men entered the irrigation ditch.  He heard some muffled voices; it sounded like they were speaking Spanish.  Nate flashed back to his Navy days in California and how he had always intended to buy Rosetta Stone so that he could learn Spanish.  Being in Southern California, Spanish almost felt like the national language.  He resented himself for having procrastinated back then.  Being able to talk to these men, if necessary, would surely come in handy. If nothing else, just being able to understand what they were saying would help him understand his situation. 

He snapped back into reality as the boots got closer and closer to his wrecked Humvee.  A few of the men shouted some words in Spanish, which he could not understand.  One of the men kicked the side of the Humvee.  Nate flinched with the deafening sound of the thud of the boot against the side of the truck's aluminum body.  Did I just make a sound?  Did I move the water when I flinched making a noise they could hear, he thought to himself?  He rested his pistol across his chest.  Well, if they find me, do I take a few of them out in the process, or do I just use this on myself to save myself the horrors of the gruesome sort of death that Shock had to suffer through?

As he silently rotated the safety of the Beretta M9 off to ready the pistol, several shots were fired into the Humvee.  The sound of the rounds penetrating the aluminum from underneath was deafening.  He resisted the urge to shoot in the direction of the shots.  This puny little nine millimeter wouldn't have anything left after it impacted the truck body compared to the rifles those men have, plus it would only give away the fact that I am here as well as my position in the wreck, he thought.  With that in mind, he held his fire for the moment.  Three more rounds ripped through the Humvee, this time closer than before.  Two of the rounds impacted the duffel bags that were pinning him down under the weight of the truck.  He could feel the shudder from the impact of the bullets.

The men conversed back and forth for a moment as one walked around to the driver's side of the truck.  The man yelled something to the others and then a few more of walked over to the driver's door area.  They began to lift and tug on something.  Were they trying to move the truck all by themselves, he thought?  He could then feel what he believed to be Sargent Wilson's body being tugged in their direction.  He could feel the movements in the water and the sound of what he perceived to be flesh and clothing being drug against the structure of the truck.

One of the men then yelled something in disgust and the forceful tugging came to a rapid halt.  The men spoke for a few more minutes when Nate heard a commanding voice yell something from the road up above.  The men answered back and then began to climb back up the hill, out of the irrigation ditch, towards the road.

Is it over, he thought?  He just laid there in the water for at least another hour, not making a move or a sound.  He just listened ever so intently for signs that they were still nearby.

Satisfied that they were gone, Nate had to figure a way out of this mess he had gotten into.  His leg was still trapped, and now that his mind was back on his immediate situation, had begun to throb again in pain.  He tried moving his leg to free it, but a sharp and searing pain shot up the nerves in his leg like an electrical shock.  Well, that's not going to work, he thought.  He felt
around trying to get a mental image of the gear he had within reach.  He found what he believed to be Sargent Wilson's pack.  He felt around and found a cigarette lighter.  Great, he thought, now I can get some light.  Just as he began to flick the lighter, he realized there might be spilled fuel in the water or fumes trapped inside with him.  He would rather remain blind than contribute to his own fiery death, so he put the lighter back.  I'll just remember where that is for later, he thought.  He continued to feel around and found Sargent Wilson's helmet mounted Surfire HL-1 light.  He flicked it on, and for the first time since the accident, he could clearly see his situation.

What he saw only added to his horror.  Most of his body was submerged in the stagnant looking water.  There was lots of blood in the water as well.  He knew that Sargent Wilson died a very physically destructive death.  Was this Sargent Wilson's blood or his own?  Was it coming from the pain in his leg?  If he had an open wound that would yield that amount of blood, this stagnant water would not be doing him any good right now.  He continued to dig around in the bag for gear and found a Gerber folding shovel.  This might actually be of some use, he thought.

He began to poke around with the shovel, hoping to find a way to use the shovel to pry his leg loose.  He knew he had to get out of the Humvee, even if it required painful and desperate measures.  All he needed was a rain upstream to raise the waters in the irrigation ditch to a level that would easily drown him.  On the other hand, he could simply die of starvation or of his injuries, which at this point were still unknown to him due to his confined position.

He poked around with his shovel and managed to lodge it in between something that he felt he could put leverage on and possibly free his leg.  Unfortunately, he could not see his leg due to the water and debris.  He tried to move the gear that was on his lower legs, but realized the only room he had to move it to was the space immediately surrounding his head, so he again ran out of options.

Oh well, he thought.  I would rather die trying than die waiting.  With that, he blindly began to apply leverage with all of the strength he could muster on whatever it was on his leg.  He felt something begin to give.  He felt some pressure being released from his leg.  His leg began to tingle followed by a searing burning pain like nothing he had ever felt.  He screamed aloud in shear agony.  He began to break down into tears.  I'm going to die here he thought.  I'm going to die in this God forsaken ditch, trapped like a rat.  I made it this damn far to find my brother and this is where I am going to die!  He began to punch the aluminum of the Humvee over and over again, as his world began to fade to black...

****

Chapter 11: Building a Community