Читать книгу A Long December - Donald Harstad - Страница 9

IT WAS TIME TO RETHINK OUR OPTIONS.

Now that the people who were shooting at us were fairly sure that we were in the barn, the main problem with our position was this: Both of our exits were covered from the area of the shed and chicken coop, where the bad guys were positioned, and the whole area from the barn to the road could be covered by somebody up in the old concrete silo. The barn’s main door faced directly at the shed. Anybody trying to leave by that door stood a very good chance of being shot before they even got out of the damned barn. The second door, the old one with the daylight showing at all edges, would allow one or two of us to get out of the barn itself without being seen. Well, assuming that the people who were trying to kill us remained in the shed or the chicken coop. With that door option, it was subsequent movement that would get you killed. If you went right, you’d be visible from the shed in about five feet. If you went left, you could be clearly seen from the chicken coop after about forty feet. So, as long as you didn’t want to go anywhere, you could get out.

And, of course, if they had got somebody to the old concrete silo, which in all likelihood they had, they could cover the second door from the get-go.

We couldn’t get out. Tactical obstacle number one.

Seeing as how we couldn’t leave, other problems just sort of popped up everywhere. Our field of view was absolutely rotten. Even from George’s position in the loft, there were large areas of the farmyard we just couldn’t see. Granted, we did have a good view of the shed. But, we only had a partial view of the chicken coop. And the concrete silo was out of our field of view completely. We weren’t going to be able to tell if there was anybody up in the thing until one of us tried to get out the old door. Tactical obstacle number two.

We couldn’t send somebody out to “draw their fire.” Unlike the movies, you don’t draw straws for that sort of thing. We were just going to have to stay put until one of two things happened. First, and most hopefully, backup would arrive and bail us out. Please, God. Failing that, those who were trying to kill us were going to either storm the barn, or do something downright shitty like set it on fire, and force us to make a break for it. Worst-case scenario, believe me. None of us had any idea just how many bad guys there were, but I was pretty sure there would be enough of them to cover both exits.

I figured we were pretty obviously outnumbered. Tactical obstacle number three.

Then there was the matter of firepower. So far, everybody we’d been able to see shooting at us had what appeared to be an AK-47, or something in that general category. Large caliber, and they had been shooting full auto. The 7.62mm rounds they were firing could easily penetrate our Kevlar tactical vests, even the ones with ceramic plates in the center of the chest. We, on the other hand, had my AR-15, Sally’s shotgun, and four handguns. We were thoroughly outgunned, and except for my rifle, outranged as well. Tactical obstacle number four.

The only good thing was, so far, none of us was hurt in such a way that we couldn’t run. If we had to make a run for it, maybe one or two of us could actually traverse the hundred-yard lane and get to the road. Not that that would do much good unless backup was there, since our cars were parked at the Heinman boys’ farm about a mile up the road. So we had no place to go even if we did get out of the barn. Besides, I’d never been particularly fleet of foot, and at fifty-five years of age, six feet three inches, and 280 pounds, I was fairly certain that I’d not be able to make it up the lane at any great speed. I’d just be a large, slow-moving target. Tactical obstacle number five.

And I was sure I’d missed one or two others. No need to dwell on more than five.

It was pretty obvious that we were all running through those obstacles and concluding along the same lines. Morale was beginning to sink.

Sally spoke up. “Anybody want part of a Three Musketeers bar?”

Then it started to get dark. That meant that it was also only a matter of time before it got colder. I’d checked the forecast before we left, and they were expecting temperatures in the single digits. It was going to be a very long night.

Sally’s walkie-talkie crackled. I couldn’t quite make out what the message was, but she scooted over to me and held out the mike at the end of the pig-tailed cord.

“Forty is at the end of the lane,” she said. “He says he can see the barn, and thinks he can make it up here.”

Forty was Norm Vincent, the Battenberg chief.

“No way,” I said, and took the mike. “Forty, Three.”

“Yeah, go ahead, Three.”

“Don’t come up here. You won’t make it past the old foundation.”

“I can drive right up there. I don’t see anybody.”

“No, but they see you. Stay where you are, or go back a little further around the stop sign. They have AK-47s, I think.”

There was a silence. Then, “Three, Forty?”

“Go.”

“The, ah, ambulance is here now, too. We don’t think it looks too bad.”

“Stay there, Forty. Wait for more backup.”

“Stand by, Three. Just a sec,” said Norm. After a moment, he said, “We understand you have an injured officer?”

“Ten-four. Not life threatening,” I said, glancing at Hester. She gave me a thumbs up. “Stay put until we advise for you to come up.”

He acknowledged, but didn’t sound too convinced.

I handed the mike back to Sally, and walked sort of half bent over to the road side of the barn. Looking out through the cracks, I could not only see most of Norm’s blue patrol car, but I had a clear view of the top half of the Battenberg ambulance.

I gestured to Sally. “Tell ‘em to back up, will you? “I went past her and back to the side of the barn where all the bullet holes were. We had to keep an eye on what our suspects were doing.

The light from the setting sun was streaming through the barn board cracks and was making it difficult to see when I looked to the left of the shed. The sunlight was also illuminating every dust mote in the place, and was beginning to make it equally difficult to see within the barn itself. If there was ever a worst time for us to have them make a move, it was about now.

“Sally…”

“Yeah?”

“See if you can contact George. Our visibility here is going to be crap until the sun goes behind that hill. Maybe he can see better.”

The sunlight also meant that it was clear. Clear at night meant colder. Crap. This was probably the warmest part of the day in the barn, and I thought it was probably about twenty degrees. I could see my breath in the shafts of sunlight.

“Hang on,” said Sally. “Lamar’s here.” Again, she handed me the mike.

“You there, Three? “It was good to hear his voice.

“Ten-four, One. Alive and kickin’.”

“Is everybody all right?”

“Ah, negative. I 388 has been hit with a fragment.”

“Is it ten-thirty-three? Do we have to get in to you now?”

“Ah, negative, One. Negative.” I looked over at Hester. “How you feeling?”

I could just make out her answer. “No problem.”

I thought for a second. “We need to get her out, but not urgently. I don’t recommend anybody coming down the drive or across the yard. Not in daylight.”

“Ten-four,” said Lamar. “I got about a dozen state troopers ten-seventy-six. Should be here in less than ten minutes.”

That was reassuring. “Glad to hear it. TAC team?” I was hoping. The TAC unit would be equipped with M -16s.

“Negative, not yet. They’ve been notified.”

That was too bad. A standard issue state trooper would have a shotgun and a handgun. Shotguns, especially over several hundred yards of open ground, would be hopelessly outranged by the AK-47s our opponents seemed to have.

“Ah, ten-four. One, these guys have AKs. You ten-four on that?”

“Ten-four.” He was. Lamar wasn’t a ballistics expert, but he knew enough about 7.62mm rounds. He’d been hit just above the ankle with one fired by a barricaded suspect in 1996. He hadn’t been able to walk well since, and hadn’t had a single day without pain. He was lucky he still had a foot.

“Where you at, Three?”

Now there was the question. I felt the chances of the opposition listening in on our radio traffic were probably not too good. Nonetheless, I wasn’t certain I wanted to reveal our exact position. I looked up at Sally, at the other end of the mike cord.

“What do you think? Should we just go ahead and tell?”

“I’d really like to get out of here.”

That wasn’t what I’d asked. But there was no rescue possible if they went to the wrong building.

“We’re in the barn, One. The basement.”

“Ten-four.”

“Except George—he’s in the loft. He’s lookout.”

“Ten-four,” said Lamar, and as he spoke, I heard a siren over his mike. The troopers were beginning to arrive.

“We think most of the suspects are in the shed. The one on the other side of the barn from you.”

“The one with the metal roof?”

“That’s it. As far as I can tell. We haven’t seen any movement in the last few minutes.”

“Okay, Carl. I’ll be back up on the radio in about five minutes.”

“Ten-four, One. Glad to have you here.”

Sally called George. He was fine, and hadn’t seen any movement for several minutes. He thought he might be able to see fairly well to our front, as soon as he could finish up moving moldy hay bales away from the walls. He’d been unable to get even close to the front wall because they’d been stacked almost to the ceiling.

Sally and I both gave our full attention to peering out through the gaps in the boards and trying to see if there was anybody moving around the tin shed. Nothing.

“You ‘spose they left?” she asked.

“Might have,” I said. I didn’t think so, though. “I think there’s a better chance they’re just gettin’ reorganized.”

We waited. About ten minutes after he’d said he’d be back in five, Lamar called.

“Go ahead,” said Sally. She started to move closer to me, to hand over the mike again.

“You relay,” I said. “I think I see something moving.”

She just paused for a moment, and then said, “Go ahead for Three. He can hear you.”

“We got people on the road on the other side of the valley, and in the bottom, and up on the hill past the farm,” said Lamar. “More comin’ all the time.”

“Good,” I said. That meant that the area was being surrounded, to cut off the escape of just whoever was shooting at us. But as I looked, I was certain something was moving, to our left, behind a screen formed by an old woven wire fence and a bunch of scrub that had grown up entangled through it.

“Three advises ‘good,’ One,” said Sally.

“Tell him to stand by,” I said, and brought my rifle up to my shoulder.

“Stand by,” said Sally. I heard her move away to my right.

“Left,” I said. “Behind the old wire fence. Really down low…”

As I spoke, a figure rose up, threw something, and disappeared back into the scrub.

There was a loud thump, as though a heavy rock had struck the barn above our heads.

“He throw a rock? “asked Sally.

Then the “rock” exploded.