Chapter 12: Hey Little Devil

During the Pirate Raiders’ first rescue, Risqué Reader, as one of the commandos, had rescued a young, highly traumatized teen. Angie attached herself to Risqué, and for months could speak little more than to ask for her mommy. As part of her therapy, Tatts eventually asked if Angie would like to see the Pirate Raiders rescue other captives and wreak havoc upon their captors. Timid at first, Angie peeked from behind Risqué to view the drones’ videos of the Raiders in action.

Now, a few years later, Angie’s Saturday night matinee was a selection of raids assembled by Ubie for her ‘therapy’. And, of course, whenever the Raiders were in the field, Angie was glued to a screen watching the live-action.

And it came to pass, while watching events in Mammoth Lakes, Angie acquired two heroes, slightly younger than she was, when she and her mother were abducted. One held a LAR-15 and the other carried an open Barlow knife.

Concerned, frustrated, and somewhat fearful at the lack of communications from his minions at the hospital and fire stations, Bradley Hunter called Hiram Bates at his stakeout of the Novak home. “Okay Bates, what’s going on over there?” he snarled. “I can’t raise Carpenter, Howard, or Jules, so your news better be good!”

“Well, Boss,” Bates replied, “I’m doin’ what ya told me. Mosby knows we’re here, but the lights are out, so we can’t really tell much. It only makes sense that she’d put the gook, Nguyen, on the second floor, but he can’t do much with only his service pistol. That would leave Mosby and Watson and that fuckin’ Sergeant York on the first floor, and with our ARs, we’ve got them out gunned.”

“Maybe not so much anymore,” Hunter told him wryly. “Frankie called a while ago from the airport and said a plane unloaded a bunch of pussies totin’ rifles. Hard to think a bunch of cunts could take on a bunch of real men, but you’re the only one I can reach since they got here. You be on the guard for them, you hear?!”

Through the drone’s eye, Angie watched three figures slip through the woods towards the besieged house. As the leader passed a large lodgepole pine, a shadow fired directly into her side. Unseen by Honey Heaven’s assailant, Helen back hand swiped across his neck, and the razor-sharp blade of the Barlow knife sliced into his spine. The stench of released bowels and bladder permeated the air.

Kicking his gun aside and dropping to slit her victim’s throat, Helen turned to examine Honey. She reached out, felt blood, and whispered to Spook, “Bullet went through her armhole where armor couldn’t stop it. You gotta get her through a portal to a med tube. Do it, and I’ll guard this side of the portal and wait for you to get back.”

While Spook shrugged off his backpack and unfolded the transporter, Helen wiped her knife on her victim and folded it. She picked up his rifle and whispered again urgently, “Hurry, someone’s sure to investigate.”

Amazed that he was following the commands of this slip of a youngster, Spook picked up the wounded raider and stepped through.

Helen’s concern about drawing unwanted attention proved unnecessary. The undisciplined crew surrounding the house was antsy and weary of waiting. They took the shot as a signal to begin firing at the house. The first to pay was their nominal leader, Sergeant Hiram Bates.

Bates was crouched behind a three-foot tall coyote bush when he heard the shot. ‘Idiot.’ he thought to himself, then. ‘If the boss is gonna give me hell for getting ahead of him, I might as well try to accomplish something.” He decided to stitch a line across the back of the house. It felt good to be finally doing something.

The next drone’s feed Angie sampled hovered six feet out from Kim’s bedroom window. Angie was looking straight into Kim’s face when she stood and fired a single round at Sergeant Bates’ shrub. Her bullet entered the sergeant’s neck exactly where it joined his shoulder, struck his clavicle, and tumbled into his chest cavity.

Kim was already out the bedroom door and well into the hall when the fusillade of bullets entered her window. It wasn’t until later she learned of her first kill. However, Angie’s drone allowed the young voyeur to see the accuracy of Kim’s shot.

Angie was so excited that she peed. Luckily, she wasn’t wearing pants, and she remained watching. Also fortunate, anticipating the rain of fire directed at the now vacant window, the drone had moved and quickly offered a perfect view of Danny Nguyen as he transited the tree line with six aimed single shots.

Spook arrived back to find Helen alert and waiting on guard as she’d promised. He folded the transporter and replaced it in his pack. When he stood, Helen whispered, “Right after you left, there was a bunch of gunfire. Sounded like all hell breaking loose. Then after a few seconds of quiet, there were six shots and more quiet. Then I heard a car or something stop on the street and its doors opening and closing. Then voices.”

“You did good, little one,” Spook responded softly. “I was a little afraid you’d go ahead and try to take on the whole darned bunch.” She couldn’t see his smile, but she was warmed anyway.

Spook was silent for a minute. Then he decided she needed to know, “Tatts thinks Honey will be okay. She said a Confederacy med tube could heal just about anything, but the Pirates’ tubes hadn’t had to deal with anything so traumatic. Still, she’s hopeful.”

He was close enough to feel Helen nod her understanding. “We used the drone to check around you before I popped back,” he whispered her. “Couldn’t find anyone near. Best guess is our guy was the rear guard. Risqué was really upset that she didn’t pull the trigger fast enough to keep Honey from getting hurt. Angie insisted and took the trigger from her and is watching your back. She said to wave at the drone when I tell you. I think she’s finally coming alive.”

Helen waved, and the drone dipped twice.

As gunfire erupted around and from the embattled house, the Raiders surrounding the firsters had been tempted to open fire. However, their mission was containment, and Miss Molly told those present to hold fire and instead she unleashed her team monitoring the action using the drones piloted by Ubie.

A dim first light was showing when Bradley Hunter parked in the street to take charge. His minion out front of the house informed him that the original ‘detachment’ was reduced by eight bodies. “Bates told us they only had their service pistols,” Brandon Cassidy reported, “But that fuckin’ gook has a rifle and so does somebody else on the second floor. We might ‘a got that first one after he fired, but there wasn’t any of our guys left alive and in position to fire at Danny.”

Half the original contingent was gone, and he and his reinforcements now made his force fourteen. Fourteen against a woman and her wimp toadies. Well, he needed to give the imitation chink credit. He was no wimp. Too bad he wasn’t white, because he’d have made a good addition to Hunter’s team.

Things were worse for the firsters than they appeared to Hunter as he took stock. When he sent Cassidy to rally the remainder of his detachment, his lieutenant found most of them ‘asleep’ and nothing would wake them. Ubie wasn’t happy that he’d failed to detect every insurgent, but as each of the three remaining alert firsters was located by Cassidy, a Pirate pulled a trigger with a resultant sizzling sound.

In the dawn’s light, Kim’s view improved. From her second story window, she watched a man walk from one pile of clothes to another. Only three moved as he approached them, and each collapsed shortly after he spoke with them. Clearly agitated, the man turned and ran to the front of the house.

Kim knew she could have dropped the man, and certainly Danny Nguyen could, but he called softly to her, “Don’t shoot! Something’s up and we probably ought to let it play out.”

Bradley Hunter was annoyed, confused, and a little fearful, and a combination like that often leads to mistakes. Hunter was primed when Richard drove up with his escort of Pirate Raiders. His team waited by their vehicle while Richard exited and walked up the drive to where Bradley stood with Brandon Cassidy and the ‘reserves’ who’d accompanied him.

“Mayor Hunter, I’m US Marshal Richard Ames Gentry, and I’m here to offer you two choices,” Richard grinned as he spoke.

“Say what?!” Hunter’s typical smooth composure was severely compromised.

“Well, choice number one is to be arrested and stand trial in federal court for accessory to murder, accessory to attempted murder of a US Marshal, and other related charges. Comes with a free trip, because there are no operating federal courts in California.”

When Hunter started to respond, Richard held up a hand and told him, “Hold on now. I’ll finish with your choices and read you your rights; then you can talk all you want” He paused, then proceeded. “Behind door number two is an opportunity to volunteer with the Earth Defense Forces. Also comes with a free trip and a free health upgrade – this trip is to South Dakota or Wyoming.

“Alien technology! Devils’ work!” Hunter yelled.

“Nope, not in fucking Cal, fucking I, fucking fornia. That would be illegal,” Richard explained. “The drone, transporter portals, and stun guns were all developed by a consortium of camgirls in the Caribbean. Some of the ladies came with me; they’re standing over there.”

He pointed to Susan Rand and Wisteria Bloom standing with several Raiders. Hunter turned purple, ground his teeth, and began to raise his rifle. Bacon sizzled, and he dropped.

Richard turned to Brandon Cassidy and the remainder of the Firsters and told them, “Guess he’ll need to decide later. You folks, drop your weapons and walk over to those ladies. Otherwise, we’ll drop you where you stand and throw you through the portal like the rest of the trash.”

He turned, motioned to Spook and Helen, and mounted the steps into the house.

Once she knew the action was over, Helen slung her rifle and ran to follow Richard into the house. Her primary mission, after all, was to assure that Kate’s kids were safe and not traumatized. On the first floor were adults that she assumed were the police chief and her officers. A mild thunder of feet on the stairs told her that the family’s children were on the way down.

The first batch ran past her to the open arms of the kneeling Richard Gentry. Several cries amounting to ‘Uncle Richard, I’m hungry’ and ‘where’s Mommy?’ could be heard above the general noise. Apparently, she hadn’t been needed after all. Helen’s shoulders slumped.

Then two figures, appearing about Helen’s age, slowly descended, the jean-clad girl with an open shirt was carrying a baby that apparently was welded to her left nipple. Judging from the view of the other side of her chest, a nipple was just about all she had to offer. Nevertheless, the suckling baby seemed content – for now.