"The Scout" - Chapter 26

The Scout

Chapter 26

By Dwayne MacInnes

The convoy and its escorts were in position to leave as the sun sank behind the mountains. Scott was to lead this motley crew of mish-mash vehicles across the Wastes, so he chose his escort deployment with care.

Two motorcycles and three buggies were to be on forward picket duty. Behind them and leading the pack would follow the Armadillo. The Wrecking Crew and their truck would follow the convoy. The heavier armored and armed vehicles flanked the convoy. Scott would ride herd and like the cowboys of old, he was determined to get this convoy to their destination regardless of the obstacles.

"Ok, folks this is the Dark One, let's get this party moving," Scott ordered over his CB radio.

"Roger that Dark One," a voice crackled over the radio in response.

Engines revved up and split the night air. Slowly the large convoy started to rumble forward into the night. Before long, the twenty convoy trucks and the forty-five escort vehicles were on the move.

Driving at night was a mixed bag. Although most of the vehicles lacked the low-light amplification gear the Charger had, they therefore had to use their headlights. The chance of encountering an ambush by the wasters was significantly lower.

Unfortunately, the convoy could only move as fast as its slowest vehicle so it would be sunrise before the party was half way through North Dakota. That would be the most dangerous time for the convoy, for the drivers and crews would be suffering from exhaustion and the wasters would be alert and ready.

The night driving went better than Scott anticipated. The battered roads offered few obstacles that required avoidance by the convoy. Only twice did the Armadillo need to pull a boulder out of the path of the vehicles. Even the weather held out.

As the morning sun rose over the desolate horizon, Scott could not but feel a sense of relief. Fighting a battle with the wasters at night would have been very difficult.

The further the convoy rolled down the old highway the better Scott felt. He knew they still had a long ways to go. But, maybe the Anarchists were too occupied to bother with his group.

The convoy had traveled for over three hours after sunrise before Scott noticed something behind them. Over the horizon, a telltale cloud of dirt rose into the air. From the size of it, Scott figure there were many vehicles heading their way.

Scott cursed mildly. He stole a glance over towards Sam sitting in the passenger seat. The boy held a joystick and studied a monitor that controlled the turret on the roof.

"Sam, you think you'll be ok using that thing. We won't be shooting at wooden targets."

Sam merely nodded. Scott could not see his face for the boy wore a crash helmet much like the one Scott wore. Both helmets hooked up to the radio to allow them to talk over the CB if they needed.

"Great, can you zero in with your gun camera on the dirt cloud behind us?" Scott asked.

On their monitor, the image of hundreds of motorcycles and buggies filled the horizon. The wasters were gaining on the convoy fast.

"Ok, everyone I guess it was too much to expect that the locals would allow us through their territory without bothering us. We have multiple bogies coming up from behind. Fireman, I need you to drop back here with me and help give these guys a warm reception."

"Roger that Dark One," a voice crackled over the radio.

The Fireman drove a red 1978 Ford Bronco. The truck boasted an open mount that a gunner occupied. The gunner could turn 360 degrees to fire his flamethrower armed with napalm. Not many of the other escort vehicles wanted to be near the Fireman for obvious reasons.

The Bronco fell back next to the Charger. The two vehicles decreased their speed a little to allow the convoy to increase the gap between them and the wasters.

"Ok, let's let them get close enough that we can maximize our firepower, but far enough away that they won't overwhelm us," Scott said through his radio.

"Roger, that Dark One. The Fireman is ready."

"Sam, remember to fire in short bursts. We need to conserve our ammo."

Sam nodded his small hands tightened their grip on the joystick. The image of the Anarchists grew on the monitor as they rapidly closed ground.

Scott started to sweat. He had never encountered this many wasters before.