Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9) by A American (learn to read books TXT) 📕

rocked back and forth, but the gun stayed level. Almost immediately, the gun fired with a deafening blast. A spent shell ejected from the rear of the gun, landing on the road with a loud clang as the huge piece of smoking brass rolled towards the gutter. At nearly the same instant, the mortar truck exploded, sending pieces of it and bodies cartwheeling into the air. The mortar, that weighed more than five-hundred-pounds, also cartwheeled through the air. The second truck that had pulled up was also knocked onto its side and caught fire.

Dalton started running towards the scene as the Stryker also began to move. Ted popped out of the hatch and manned the fifty-cal, pulling its charging handle back twice to get the weapon into battery. A couple of the men who had survived the Stryker’s main gun staggered to their feet in obvious shock. One was holding his head as he stumbled about. Another of the men began firing at the approaching Stryker, a futile attempt, but the last great act of defiance. Ted opened up with the Browning and cut him down as dirt and sand shot up in geysers.

Dalton made it to the overturned truck as a man was trying to crawl out. He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out. He was bleeding and his face was burned. Throwing him to the ground, he searched the man, stripping a pistol from him and tossing it aside. Mike quickly joined in the search and the two checked both the living and the dead.

There were only two men left alive by the time they finished the search. The one Dalton pulled from the overturned truck had succumbed to his wounds, and the others were all dead. Some lay in the sun naked, or nearly so, their clothes having been blasted from their bodies by the force of the explosion. The two prisoners were both wounded, one more so than the other. The two were herded to the back of the armored vehicle where Ted tended to their wounds.

Neither of the men spoke, though the one did moan in pain. The man that survived relatively unscathed sat staring at the ground.

“They’re Cubans,” Dalton announced as he searched their pockets.

“Yeah, they look like it,” Ted answered as he wrapped the head of the more severely wounded of the two.

“You guys got these two? I got another one I need to go get.” Mike nodded, keeping his eye on the man sitting on the ground.

Dalton walked back to the yard of the house and found Micha awake again. He cowed at Dalton’s approach, certain another bash to the head was coming. Dalton grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “What’s going on?” Micha mumbled.

“Let’s go over here with your friends,” Dalton replied as he dragged the bewildered Micha along.

“What friends?”

Dalton shoved him out in front of him, announcing, “Walk. Your buddies from south of the border are waiting for you.”

Micha tried to turn and say something, but Dalton shoved him with the carbine. Micha didn’t want another blow to the head so he kept quiet and walked. When they got to the Stryker, Dalton told Micha to sit. He looked at the Cuban sitting on the ground. The guy made eye contact with him before quickly looking away. Micha looked at the burning trucks and the bodies scattered about. Then he looked at the wounded soldier Ted was still doctoring.

Dalton was leaned against the Stryker and nudged Micha with his foot, “You speak Spanish?”

He nodded, “Yeah. I took it in high school like everyone else.”

“Mmm,” Dalton grunted.

“What’s going on?” Micha asked.

Mike stepped up in front of the seated man and squared off with him. “You know damn well what’s going on. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

Micha looked at the ground, “I don’t.”

Dalton reached into his cargo pocket and took out a small green radio and dropped it into his lap. “That refresh your memory?”

Mike looked at Dalton and asked, “He had that on him?”

“Yeah. I followed him and heard him talking on it. That’s how I knew it was coming. He posted up a short distance from the park and gave a fire correction before beating feet to meet up with these guys. As soon as he did that, I followed him until I saw the mortar team; then I jumped his ass.”

Mike looked down at Micha and asked, “Still wondering what’s going on?”

“Morgan said he didn’t trust your ass. Guess he was right,” Dalton said.

“We need to call in transportation for these guys. This one won’t be able to walk that far,” Ted said.

Chapter 8

Danny was nearly inconsolable. Once we took stock of our people, the ugly truth was revealed. Bobbie had perished in the fire. It haunted me to know that she was the one I’d seen on fire. Out of shame, I didn’t say I’d seen her though. Not that there was anything I could have done to save her. At that point, even had we managed to extinguish the fire, the short time she would have lived would have been agonizing. As horrible as it was to say, it was for the best.

Jess had a broken arm. Doc had it in a Sam Splint and was urging her to go to the clinic. But she was refusing to leave our group. Aric had shrapnel wounds in his right leg. None of the wounds was life threatening at the moment, but Doc was worried about infection.

Doc stood up, having just cleaned some cuts on Little Bit’s face. The man looked tired. He surveyed the group that had moved to the pool behind the band shell. “Good thing we got those antibiotics on the trip.”

I was sitting beside Mel with Little Bit in my lap. I looked up and nodded. “Are we going to have enough?”

He shook his head. “Probably not. I thought I was stocking up. This will wipe It all out.”

Mel wiped sweat-matted hair from Little