And then Jericho clued in. “They’re blocking the road,” he told the others. “There’s just one way into town from this direction, and they’re going to block it. We need to get a few more vehicles in place behind those bins, because Humvees have a lot of power. Hopefully they’ll leave the tow trucks, so that’ll be some good weight, but—”
He was interrupted by a rumble from down the road and turned again, this time to see a huge dump truck crawling along Main Street. It was taking up both lanes of the road and nearly sideswiped a couple of parked cars as it came.
“That’s from the old equipment yard.” Kayla sounded amazed. “From the mine. I had no idea it could run anymore.”
Jericho didn’t want to think why Wade would have known the truck’s status, what nefarious scheme it might have been part of, but it was good to remember who he was dealing with. “Wade has the roadblock under control,” he said. “That’ll get the enemy out of their armored vehicles and away from their turret guns, and it’ll slow them down. That’s a start. But we’re still going to be outgunned and outmanned.”
“Not by as much as you’d think,” Garron said, and Jericho followed his gaze back toward the town.
More trucks were arriving. A stream of them, these ones civilian pickups, but each driven by someone Jericho recognized. He glanced over to see Wade jogging back from where he’d left the tow truck, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder and his deer rifle in one hand, an M4 in the other. He didn’t look in Jericho’s direction, just shouted at the new arrivals. “Gather up over here to get instructions!”
Mr. Appleby was one of the first to arrive, rifle in hand.
“No,” Jericho said, turning to Kay. “Shit, Kay, we can’t ask them to do this.”
“You think we need to be asked to defend our own damn town?” Mr. Appleby barked. The kindly shopkeeper was gone, replaced by a hard-eyed, if somewhat gray-haired, warrior.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Kayla said, loudly enough that the gathering crowd could hear her, “but we’re expecting a fairly intense attack. This isn’t something that’s going to—” She stopped and grimaced. “It’s not going to peter out like the biker thing did. At least, I don’t think it will. This is going to be a fight. People are going to die. The enemy may have explosives—”
“So do we,” Wade said, and he shrugged the bag off his shoulder and lowered it to the ground. “I raided the toy store. Now, where do you want us set up?”
“You don’t have to—” Kayla started again.
“Are we just going to pick our own spots, then?” Nikki demanded from the middle of the crowd. She was carrying Eli’s Remington. No. Her Remington. “Or are you assholes going to come up with a plan?”
There were more fighters pulling up, jogging over with rifles in hand, and Scotty Hawk and a couple of other men were swaggering back from the roadblock, obviously satisfied with their work. Montgomery and Hockley were back on their phones, speaking urgently to people who were almost certainly too far away to be any use. Kayla looked at Garron, then Jericho. “You said it wasn’t about your job. You said you were here because it was the right thing to do. If I listened to it from you, I should listen to it from them. And you’re the one with the military background, so this is your show. Where do you want them?”
He wanted them home safe. But if he couldn’t have that— “You don’t have to be here. This doesn’t have to be your fight. But if you’re here, please work from as much cover as possible.” He waited, not sure whether to hope people would stay or go. When the only movement was in the form of new arrivals, he scanned his eyes over the crowd. “Raise your hand if you’ve ever been active military, ever seen action.” Six men and one woman raised their hands, and Jericho nodded. He might have hoped for more, but seven out of twenty-something was pretty good. “Okay. Each of you take two or three others with you.”
He squinted down the street. “There are five buildings between here and the forest. Split up. Get up onto roofs or upper-floor windows. Don’t take unnecessary chances, just harass the enemy and try to pin them down. We’ve got air support coming in.” Not enough, of course, but maybe enough to scare the attackers off. “Time is on our side. If we can slow them down, we’re doing well.” He tried to think what he was missing. “Watch for them trying to get inside the building or around into the alleys. North-side shooters, keep an eye on the south-side buildings, and the other way around. Cover each other from across the street. They’ve probably got grenade launchers, and maybe worse. If you see anyone with—” how to describe all the possible variations of weaponry they could be facing? “—with anything bigger than a standard rifle, that person is everyone’s first target. And if you see anything like that pointed in your direction, you run the hell away and try to get as many walls between you and the shooter as you can.”
There had to be better instructions he could give. If he had more time, he could work on tactics, set up a plan. But as it was? “You don’t have to do this. You don’t need to be here. These guys are coming in to bust some of their friends out of jail, not to invade the town permanently. You don’t have to be here, especially not if you have kids.”
“Kids make it more important to be here,” Johnny Flear said. He was quiet, determined. “I don’t want my kids growing up in a world where they think outlaws can attack the sheriff’s station and get away with it. We elected the sheriff; she represents us. So if someone attacks her, they’re attacking us too.”
Jericho couldn’t argue with the sentiment. So he just said, “Once the chopper arrives, or any kind of backup, stay out of it. You might look like militia to people who don’t know better, and we don’t want our reinforcements taking shots at you.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, go. Find somewhere safe to shoot from.”
“Stay in touch,” Wade said. “The radio station will relay instructions, or if you don’t have a radio, check Twitter. Hashtag Mosely.”
Jericho frowned at him. “Seriously? There’s a hashtag? Is that how you got everyone here so fast?”
“No,” Nikki said, checking her weapon and scowling at Jericho. “He used the school phone tree. Everyone who gets a call when school is canceled got a call for this. And then we contacted a few extras.”
“Jesus. You guys take your snow days pretty seriously.”
Nikki gave him a dead-eyed stare, then turned to the others. “Let’s go. I’ll take the farm-supply building.”
And they went, scattering across and along the street like an army of toy soldiers gathered from too many different games.
Jericho watched them go. “From a traditional law enforcement perspective, I probably should have focused on only shooting in self-defense, and maybe said something about respecting property,” he said, mostly to himself. Then he turned to grin at Kayla. “If I play my cards right, I might be able to get fired after all this.”
Wade glared at him, acknowledging his existence for the first time since his return. “If you’re still alive after all this, you are absolutely quitting your fucking job.” Then he nudged the gear bag with his foot. “There’s some shit in there that might help keep us alive. At least long enough for me to kick your ass.”
Jericho was crouched over, sorting through Wade’s loot bag, when he heard the rumble of approaching engines and the warning yells of the fighters closest to the barricade. “I say we start in the street and retreat back to the jail if we have to,” he said to Kayla.
“No,” Wade said. Apparently he didn’t share Kay’s faith in Jericho’s tactical judgment. “Fuck that. We don’t care if the assholes get to the jail. I mean, I don’t care about any of this. But you don’t care if they get to the jail. You only want to be sure they don’t get the prisoners out of town, right?”
“Well, okay,” Jericho said cautiously. “I mean, best-case scenario, the bad guys would lock themselves up in a few free cells and sit there until the feds come to collect them. But I don’t think that’s likely, do you?”
