Rand
I'd been sitting under the hatch of the Caravan, listening to Hanna talk about leaving. The whole idea of her leaving bummed me out, though I certainly understood her reasoning. I was debating with myself if it'd be selfish of me to ask her to stay, knowing she wouldn't, when I'd heard the noise.
We held our watches about thirty feet back from the fence, positioned among the wrecks, so we couldn't easily be sniped. With only ten of us on watch at a time, we were spread far too thin to truly cover the entire lot. Because of our limited manpower, we'd left the side along the road unguarded, assuming the Orcas wouldn't take the risk of being seen by a passing car, and we kept only one man near the house and shop, depending on the lights and the noise of the women to discourage anyone from trying to get in there. That left only a little more than two sides to cover. We had the advantage of being under cover where we could see the fence, where the Orcas would be out in the open, but we were still woefully undermanned.
We'd talked about other watch schedules. We'd considered fewer or no men during daylight, and then using them to bolster the night watches. We'd also considered going to alternating twelve-hour watches, again to put more men on the fences, but in the end, we decided to stick to our original plan. We worried the risks of becoming exhausted outweighed any benefit the additional manpower might provide.
The last time the Orcas broke in, they came over the fence, throwing a couple of thick moving blankets over the barbed wire along the top so they could crawl over. This time I'd heard a snap that sounded suspiciously like someone cutting chain-link. Had I not been expecting something I'm not sure I'd have paid it any attention, but every little noise I heard now put me on alert, and we'd made it damn clear to everyone that after dark, if someone came into the boneyard, they were to call out their name so we didn't mistake them for the boogeyman.
During a lull in our conversation, I'd listened intently until I heard the noise again. That's when I'd shushed her and shut her in the Dodge, but I had no idea if the snip I'd heard was the first, the last, or it was simply my imagination and the soft patter of the rain playing tricks on me.
Now I was creeping along in the direction of the noise, searching for any sign of movement. It was almost impossible to see with no moon and the drizzle, but Hanna was the last person to announce her presence. If there was someone over there, they shouldn't be. I licked my lips, nervous about shooting a brother. The second night we'd very nearly had a tragedy when Will got turned around and wandered into Brock's area. Brock and Will had nearly shot each other, each thinking the other was an Orca. I didn't want to make that mistake, but I was equally afraid of calling out a challenge and announcing my location in case whoever might be out there wasn't a brother.
I was slowly creeping along between the cars, pausing every now and again to watch for movement and to listen for noise. To my right a shot rang out and I nearly shit myself. There was a brief pause, then a flurry of shots echoed from multiple directions.
"We're under attack," Palmer's voice roared from my left as another burst of gunfire rang out and men began to bellow and shriek in pain.
A figure rose from near the fence, running in a crouch across the road that paralleled the edge of the property. I popped up from my hiding place and fired twice, the man screaming as he fell. I ran to the man as he tried to claw his way into the cars. As I approached, the intruder rolled over and pointed his gun at me, but I was prepared for something like that and finished him with a shot to the head.
The fighting was hopelessly confused as pistol shots rang out in all directions. I ducked as a shot pinged off a car behind me. I glanced left and right, turning to fire at a moving shadow.
Four
I said to myself, trying to keep track of the number of rounds I'd discharged. Across the yard, Patrick's shotgun bellowed once, twice, and then a third time, and I prayed Patrick's aim had been true.
"Rand!" I bellowed as I retreated to the cars.
"Todd!" a voice answered.
Suddenly, voices of the Riders began to ring out all around the yard.
"Palmer!"
"Vince!"
"Dean!"
"Jacob!"
"Doug!"
"Chuck!"
"Paul!"
"Grayson!"
Each voice was often followed by a shot or two. Our voices rang out again and again as we started getting ourselves organized.
"Rand!" I roared as I spotted another man.
"Vince!" the voice replied as he spun, but the tenor was wrong and I pulled the trigger twice, dropping him.
Six.
I ejected my magazine, fished one out of my pocket, and slammed it home. I had still had one full magazine in my pocket. I began moving toward the shop when Patrick's shotgun roared again.
"Rand!" I cried when I spotted another moving shadow.
"Vince!" the figured called, spinning toward me before we both jerked our weapons to high ready. I sighed in relief, knowing how close I'd come to dying. We moved together toward the shop. There were three bodies in the open ground between the cars and the shop, and another to the side, much closer than the other three.
"Vince and Rand!" Vince called before we stepped out from between the cars.
Patrick whirled out from behind the shop door, his shotgun leveled before he pointed it skyward. "I've got this! Go!" he yelled.
We plunged back into the cars, moving together. There were several more calls, a few answers, and a few more shots, but soon it was quiet, with only calls and answers.
"Riders!" Doug bellowed. "To the shop!"
"Go," I said, pushing him on the shoulder. "I have to go get Hanna."
"Fuck!" he snarled. "Riders!" he bellowed. "We've got to find Rachel!"
"And Stephanie!" Grayson called from somewhere.
Vince, Grayson, and I moved quickly through the cars. I was on edge, mentally telling myself over and over to make sure of my target before I pulled the trigger so I didn't shoot one of the women. I arrived at the Dodge, my heart pounding in my chest. The rear window had been shot out. Swallowing hard, I peeked through the side glass. I holstered my weapon and yanked the door open. Hanna clambered out and I pulled her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I dared.
"Thank God you're okay! Are you hurt?" I whispered as I brushed my hand through her hair.
"No. Are you?" I shook my head. "I was so scared," she whispered. "All I could do was cower on the floor with my hands over my ears."
"Good. That's what I wanted you to do."
"I screamed when someone shot out the glass."
"But you weren't hit?"
She shook her head. "No."
