"The Scout" - Chapter 33

The Scout

Chapter 33

By Dwayne MacInnes

"Damn, we've got them beat in weaponry, ammunition, food and defensive placements," Scott cursed. "The one thing we don't have is numbers. They do, and they are using them to terrible effect." Scott slammed his fist down on top of the hood of the Charger.

Sam, standing next to Scott looked around from the various defenders. The look of defeat stared back at him. Even the scout appeared to be temporarily lost to despair.

"Well, we may not survive this, but we will sure make them pay," Scott determined. "Get the last of the escort vehicles to the secondary defensive fortifications on the western perimeter."

"Sam, get into the Charger," Scott snapped and the boy jumped into his seat and pulled on his helmet.

Julia looked over to Scott before she ran towards the Armadillo. "So Scout where are you heading?"

Scott shouted back as he climbed into the muscle car's seat, "I'm going to see what help I can lend to the east. I need you to coordinate and conduct our defensive plan to the west."

Before Julia could argue, Scott slammed the door and raced the scout vehicle to the river.

The black Charger pulled up to the last defensive trailer in the eastern fortifications. The scout jumped out of the car, leaving the engine idling with Sam operating the M60 machinegun. One of the defenders tossed down one end of a rope ladder that Scott quickly scaled.

Once on top, Scott found Willy surveying the horizon with his field glasses. The gun crews were poised and ready to unleash their heavy machineguns. So far, no one had crossed the river necessitating the use of the twin mounted M2s. There was no need for them to move fore and aft of the sideways-parked trailer.

Willy shoved Scott the field glasses. "We still are holding the river. I don't know how long we will be able to however.

"They keep coming and we keep repelling them. I'm amazed the civvies are not running yet."

"As long as we hold this side of the river I think they will stand pat," Scott said peering along the riverbanks with the field glasses. Then he brought them to bear onto the encroaching dust cloud of the vehicles racing towards them.

"I guess I better get back down there. The reinforcements are about to add their weight to the assault," Scott grimly replied as he returned the glasses.

Willy peered through the glasses again as Scott started to dismount the trailer.

"Wait," the convoy officer yelled. "Something strange is going on.'

Scott could hear the explosions as he returned to the top of the trailer. Willy thrust the glasses back into Scott's hands and pointed out to the horizon.

"Look!" was all he said.

Scott scanned the area where Willy directed and noticed new plumes of dark smoke drifting into the air. The new arrivals were tangling it up with the wasters. Scott focused the binoculars onto one of the vehicles it was a 1976 Sea Island green Mercury Cougar XR7 sport coupe. An M61A2 20 mm Vulcan cannon inside a fully rotating turret sat atop the roof. There was also its more compact cousin, the XM134 minigun mounted through the passenger side of the windshield. They were firing a barrage of death into the wasters.

Scott counted about six other vehicles racing along side the Cougar, each a different and unique armed vehicle. All were carving a deadly swath through the wasters. It was only a matter of a few minutes before the new arrivals had fought their way to the river.

In those few minutes, Scott made sure the defenders on his side of the river did not fire onto the third party joining the fight. Scott followed the maxim of "the enemy of my enemy must be my friend".

They Anarchist on the east side of the Sheyenne River quickly threw down their arms and either surrendered, ran, or died.

Scott sent a couple of his people out to guide the seven new arrivals across the 8th Avenue Bridge. The scout, while waiting for the new forces to cross, sent the majority of the defenders off to the west to reinforce Julia's command. He could hear the combat growing fiercer to the west.

The Sea Island green Cougar pulled up to the black Charger. A stocky middle-aged man stepped out of the vehicle. He wore glasses, an old T-shirt, a pair of worn shorts, and on his feet were a pair of sandals. He gave a big smile as he waved to Scott.

"We thought you could use some help here," the man said. "We heard your S.O.S. over the radio."

"Glad to have it. But who are you and where do you come from?" Scott replied.

"We are from St Paul. My name is Doug and Weston here is my gunner," Doug pointed to the smaller thin man sitting in the passenger seat behind the minigun cleaning his glasses.

Julia watched as the first line of defense crumbled under the new assault. The M60 Patton tanks made short work of the defensive trailers. The survivors from the first line of defense fell back to the second line. However, most of the civilians tended to bypass the second line altogether and just tended to run.

Even though she had received numerous reinforcements from the east, she still had too few people to stop the unending rush of Anarchists. There were still one APC and the two M60 Pattons relentless that pounded the defenses. Further, almost all the buildings were demolished and burning.

Worst of all, the recoilless rifles were either lost or out of ammunition.