Rise of the Huskers (The Raven Falconer Chronicles) (14 page)

On the outskirts of Banff, a train of trucks and SUV’s exited off of Highway 1, near the Tunnel Mountain overpass.  ‘Braves’ as Darwin liked to call his fighters were packed into a dozen vehicles, their faces painted black and their guns loaded.  Trevor drove the lead Suburban, as he’d done earlier in the day, but this time Chief Gladue sat in the back seat.  Lou sat quietly in the passenger position, stroking his extended rifle while he thought of how the night might play out.  Coming to a stop at the eastern end of Banff Ave, Trevor and Louis looked over the seat for instructions.

“Tr
evor, you stay here.  Lou and I’ll go in alone,” Darwin ordered.  He was dressed in black, except for a buckskin leather vest with decorative beading and detailed stitching.  An ornamental necklace hung around his neck, a bear claw dangling at his sternum; a gift from a grateful people.  His dark hair was pulled back and kept in place with an ebony Stetson, which he wore for special occasions.  Hidden beneath his vest and slick, black jacket was the 9mm pistol, loaded with hollow points.  “While we’re gone I want you to get the Braves into position.  If the inn’s as you’ve described we should be able to get firing positions at the front and back without them knowing.  Break up into two groups and get ready.  I’ll fire a shot if I want you to engage.  Is that clear?”  Arcand had turned and was looking out the windshield, trying to organize an attack plan.  Chief Gladue reached up and tapped him on the shoulder, “I don’t want any screw ups.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got this,” Trevor stammered back.  There had been a lot of talk since their trip earlier in the day but now that they were ready to begin
the attack, something just didn’t sit right with him.  “And where will you both be while we take the inn?”

“We’
ll be around, don’t you worry.  Make sure we don’t end up with some crossfires, last thing I want is our people killing each other.  If you can get some men up on the buildings nearby, that would be advantageous.”  Darwin sat back against the seat and winked at Lou.  “This is the first big step, boys.  We take Banff, sure up some supplies, and link with the reserve to the north and west.  It’ll be like knocking over bowling pins.  Won’t be anybody that can stop us.”

Trevor Arcand sat motionless, taking in the promises and wondering what they meant for his future, but kept to himself.  “Go on now, get your butt in gear.  We got a town to take,” Darwin exclaimed.  The GAW leader exited and took his AR-15 with him.  He nodded at Chief Gladue but ignored Lou completely.  The security man also left his side
of the SUV and took the driver’s spot, adjusting the seat well back to accommodate his size.

“I hate that little turd,” Lou said, when he knew Trevor was out of earshot.

“But he serves a purpose and has the support of the younger men and women.  We can’t do without his . . . ah, special skill-set.  Not just yet.”  Gladue grinned and remained in the back seat.  “Give the Braves a few minutes to start down the road and then we’ll drive up and have a chat with this . . . Officer Nowicki.”

Dark-faced men and women split off into two groups, one to the south and the other to the north side of Banff Ave.  They weaved in and out of buildings, trees and cover, to wind their way to the inn.  Darwin watched carefully as about 70 of his followers prepared to do his bidding.  “They are goo
d people, brave souls doing God’s work.  We will be victorious.”  He spoke the words as he gave Lou permission to roll the SUV forward; confident he’d covered all his bases.

“Yeah, I see ‘em,” Zygmunt confirmed, after Bobi raised the alarm.  A single set of headlights was breaking through the night and heading their way.

“Do you think it’
s them?” Hannah asked.

“Who else, but there’s only one car.  Maybe they’
ve just come to talk,” Bobi said, trying to sound upbeat.

“There’
s more than one carload.  Keep your heads down and watch those spaces there . . . and there,” he said, pointing to some obvious locations where attackers could hide.  “Spread the word . . . this could be it.”  Hannah held her position while Bobi ran from one pair of guards to the next, issuing Nowicki’s instructions.

“You going down?” Hannah asked, looking at the officer.

“Yup, they’ll be looking for an answer and I don’t think it’s the one they want to hear.”

“Be careful.”

“Thanks, you too,” he replied.

Raven stopped Ziggy on her way to the roof as he descended the stairs.  The look on his face was grim and she knew the answer to her question
, even before she opened her mouth.  “They’re here and you’re going out to meet them?”

“One kis
s and you’re already reading my mind?”

“That’s about it.  I’
m coming with you.”

“Fine, but stay well back and behind the desk.”

“Yes sir,” she said, cocking her arm in an awkward salute before quickly kissing him on the cheek.  “Please, watch yourself.”

They jogged down the two flights and arrived at the entrance about the same time the black SUV pulled to the curb.  Ziggy twisted and slid a
n upended couch away from the main entrance, flicked the lock and stepped outside, his carbine resting comfortably on his hip and a finger on the trigger.  He walked to the edge of the steps but did not descend to ground level.  Lou crawled from the driver’s seat, with effort, and walked around to open the rear passenger door.

“Hey Lou, you’
re wasting your time, or have you come to surrender?” the officer yelled.

The large
, native man ignored his antagonist and stood aside when Gladue slid into view.  “Officer Nowicki, is it?”

“Yup, and you’re the fellow wanting to expand your real estate empire?”

“You might say that,” Darwin said, feigning a light chuckle.  “I’m Chief Darwin Gladue, perhaps you’ve heard of me?”  He took a couple of steps forward, expecting to shake the officers hand but stopped when Ziggy rebuffed his question.

“Nope, can’
t say that I have.  What brings you to my city?”

“Your city?” he snapped, with a renewed emphasis and strain to his voice.  “I like a man who is direct and to the point, but I will argue your assertion of who owns Banff.”

“Give it your best shot, Chief.  I really don’t care because we’re not moving out.  We’re happy to share and live in harmony with your people, as we’ve done for years, but we will not be booted out or robbed.”  Nowicki tried to remain calm but he could feel his blood pressure and temperature rising.

Gladue pulled the cowboy hat from his head and looked inside
, where a small derringer was velcroed against the felt.  He considered using it on the mouthy, disrespectful officer but held his emotion and replaced it atop his head after sweeping his hair back.  “Let’s agree to disagree on that point but I can’t have your people using up our resources.  We’ll escort your band to just outside Calgary and let you go with no harm to anyone.  I don’t know what else I could offer you.  It’s more than fair.”

“And what happens to you and y
our people when we don’t go and you kill a bunch of us or we do the same to you?  How do you think the Canadian military will look at that?  Whose side will they take?”

“What Canadian military?  You mean the submarin
es at West Edmonton Mall?  That’s probably all that’s left.  You really are out of touch aren’t you?”  Darwin looked at the man in disbelief, thinking that surely he must have some knowledge of what was happening, the world over.

“That’
s a lie and you know it, and if it’s not, it doesn’t change our situation or our resolve,” Ziggy said, stepping down a single stair.

“A man with
balls and a big mouth.  You don’t vacate this hotel in the next 30 minutes, I’m gonna stuff the first of those into the other.  You get my drift?”

“Loud and clear but as m
uch as we don’t want a fight, we will not give up and be led away to who knows what.  We’ve got women and kids in here . . . ”

“Then send them out and we’
ll escort them to safety.  You have my word.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any takers.  But what’
s to stop me from dropping your sorry ass right where you stand?”  Lou heard the words and moved to grab his automatic rifle from the front seat.  Darwin turned and stopped him with the wave of his hand.

“Because you’
re an officer with integrity and you won’t shoot an unarmed man . . . not while we’re negotiating.”

Nowicki almost laughed, knowing the ambitious chieftain was packing at least one
, and maybe two, pistols.  “I don’t, for a second, believe you’re unarmed but you’re right . . . I won’t shoot you, at least not until I have to.  You take your gorilla, back there,” Zygmunt said, pointing at the bodyguard, “drive on out of town and take the dozens of troops you’ve got circling us with you, and we’ll call it a night.  Press your claim and there’ll be hell to pay.”

“That’s your final answer?”  Darwin thought again of the small pistol tucked into his hat, but pushed the idea aside.  He liked to think it was the rifles on the roof that were staying his hand but truth be known, his life, in the eternal perspective of things, was more valuable than any of his followers.

“That, sir, is my final answer, now get out of my driveway,” he barked, lowering the carbine’s muzzle to make his point.

“Very well, you’ll be to blame for the loss of life here and not me . . . not me.”

Officer Nowicki watched until they’d spun the Suburban around and raced toward the edge of town.  He backed through the open door and quickly slammed it shut, pushing the couch back into place.

“So?” Raven asked.

“They’re coming, pass the word.”

A single gunshot, fired from a small caliber pistol, stirred Eli but did not bring him completely from the vice-like slumber, which had held him for hours.  The stove, though still warm, no longer glowed with red embers and dancing flames.  Rolling onto his back, he crossed his feet at the ankles, briefly dislodging Tommy Cat, who clawed at the blanket before wrapping back into a furry ball.  Moments later, and not too far away, a staccato of gunfire perforated the darkness and shattered the night’s calm.

Fireworks?
he thought, his mind racing to find the date in his mind’s calendar but none existed. 
Military?  Why is the military . . . ”
  Sitting upright and now fully awake he shouted, “Huskers!”

His attempt to jump from the couch and into action was hampered by stiff joints that were still healing.  He tripped, launching the cat onto the
floor and winding up next to the Tabby in a twisted knot of aching limbs.  “Come on, Tommy, we’ve got to go.  The girls are in trouble.”  Finding the strength and coordination he needed, Eli quickly scoured the adjoining bedroom for a weapon, anything he could use in a fight.  He came up empty handed, but then remembered the garage and hurriedly stumbled down the steep, angled stairs to the ground below.

A door tucked behind the stairs granted him access with the same key he’d used above.  Black and cold, the space was almost impossible to search.  He used his hands, touching and exploring
, as if he were blind at a Saturday morning garage sale.  “Rake, ah . . . shovel.  That might work,” he said, taking it from the wall.  “No, wait . . . firewood, has to be an axe.”  Eli’s vision had accommodated, just enough, to allow him to make out vague shapes and shadows through the lightless room. 
Woodpile . . . woodpile
, and then he saw it, just as the Millers had described in their note.  Tossing the shovel aside he felt and studied the mass of timber, finally locating a heavy-headed, double-edged axe stuck between the pile and unfinished wall.

He lifted the axe, draped it over his shoulder but quickly lowered the steel head to the ground and dragged it to the door.  “Tommy.  Tommy Cat . . . where are you?” he whispered.  Eli stopped at the doorway and called again, a hush to his voice. 
What am I doing? 
He renewed his calls, but with full purpose and volume.  Suddenly something brushed against his ankle and stepped on his foot.  “Tommy, let’s go.”  Eli hefted the long-handled hatchet with both hands and scooted away from his newfound shelter, the cat in tow.  A key dug into his right thigh, assuring him that he’d be able to start the pickup once he covered the short distance to where it was parked.  Pain slowed each strained step, willpower and self-control pushing him forward.

The middle-aged Falconer turned only once to see the Tabby loping along behind him, maneuvering obstacles and carrying, in his teeth, a small grey mouse. 
Stupid cat. 
The Ford was where he had left it.  Sliding into the driver’s seat, he placed the axe where he could easily reach it.  Tommy didn’t wait for an invitation but jumped, first to the floorboard, and then the seat next to Eli, the mouse still clutched in his tight jaws.  A second later the engine sputtered to life and began to roll from the lot.  Explosive, hollow echoes continued to report an awful fight was ensuing. 
So many, must be hundreds,
he thought.  The memory of his battle with Benny, and the idea that Raven would be faced with a similar fate, forced his foot down on the accelerator, as he raced to the site of the fray.

Officer Nowicki ran from one group of frightened survivors to the next, shouting and issuing orders.  “Keep your heads down and stay behind cover.  They can shoot at us all day, as long as they don’t breach the inn!  Watch the doors and windows.”  The onslaught of gunfire had started only minutes after Darwin and Lou had driven away.  “Thirty minutes, my ass!” Ziggy had screamed, dodging the first few rounds that had whistled overhead.  Raven stayed low and ran at his heels, the weight of the heavy-barreled gun almost non-existent in her hands.  They dashed from one location to the next, checking the security of their perimeter and the status of their ‘troops’.  Some had summoned the courage to return the occasional shot but most sat on the floor, their weapon standing between their feet.  “It’ll be okay.  They’re trying to rile us up so we’ll make a mistake.  Stay put and ready for when they make their move,” he yelled, over and over again, hoping to build morale and silence the rising fear.

On the roof, the defenders lashed out at native attackers with random, ill-sighted bursts of fire.  Pooch barked and bounded from barrier to stairwell, anxious to see Raven rejoin her friends.  “Bobi, we’ve got to keep ‘em away from the doors,” Hannah shrieked, noting that her Egyptian friend was still huddled against the supportive, perimeter wall, praying.  “That rifle’s not going to fire itself,” she continued, above the sound of the incoming rounds.  The dental assistant suddenly stood up above the wall’s edge and pulled the AK’s trigger three times, sending a trio of slugs into the surrounding blackness.  A figure, crouching but moving quickly along the meter-high barricade, periodically stood, fired a round through his scoped-rifle and then stooped to protect himself.

“Shoot at the muzzle flashes,” Willie hollered, before lifting and firing another single shell.  A string of copper jacketed slugs stitched a trail up the outside of the façade, forcing the Daniels man back to the roof’s surface.  “That was close!  Keep moving, don’t shoot from the same spot twice.”  His words of advice faded as he ran to the next sentries, issuing the same warning and instructions.

“Bobi, for hell’s sake, suck it up and help me,” Hannah cried, moving to her left, three shuffled paces, before she lifted and fired a pair of rounds.  Bobi wished she could match the courage of her roommate, but fear, a weight, heavier than her resolve, held her down.  She looked at Hannah, tears blurring her vision as she knelt and tried to stand.  “You can do it,” Hannah encouraged, popping up again to fire.  The taller woman was suddenly thrown back, the Russian-patterned machine gun flung from her hands, clattering to a stop on the roof.

“Hannah . . . no!” Bobi howled, tossing her weapon aside and crawling quickly to her downed friend.  “Hannah, Hannah, you okay?”  Pooch beat her there, nuzzling Hannah and licking her mercilessly.

“Ah, I don’t know.  My head hurts.”  She rolled onto her side, then sat, feeling over the surface of her face and neck with a shaking hand.

“I don’t see any blood.  Where are you hurt?”  Bobi, nearly hysterical, shifted around her roommate, searching for a sign of trauma.  “Hey, hold on,” she said, sticking her finger through a single hole in the hood of Hannah’s coat.  “You’re okay.  You’re not hit!  Must’ve smacked your head when you fell down.”  For a minute all sounds were dulled by their elation, the friends nearly forgetting where they were and what danger still persisted all around them.

“Good.  How lucky was that?” Hannah shouted, realizing how loud the firefight had grown.

“From the looks of things, damn lucky,” Raven yelled in response.  “What happened?”

Hannah explained the near fatal incident, and then described what was happening from their vantage point.  “It’s hard to get a feel for what they’re doing down there.  We only get a chance to shoot a couple of shells before we have to duck back down to avoid getting shot.”  She emphasized her point by sticking an index finger through the bullet hole in the coat.

“I see what you mean,” Raven confirmed.  “We need to keep pouring it to them, come on you guys.”

The three roommates scurried back to the wall, separated themselves by a meter or two and prepared to rise and fire.  “You ready?” Raven asked, standing in the middle of the other two.  Hannah offered a quick confirmation but Bobi remained silent.  “Bobi, you ready?”  Their eyes met, a wrinkled brow and quivering lip delivered a message to Raven, which was understandable, but still hard to accept.  “Bobi, Mick is down there with a room full of kids, praying we’re able to keep the bastards out of here.”  She knew there was much more to be said but hoped that would be enough . . . it was.

“I can do this . . . I can do this, Rave.”

“Okay, on three,” Raven said, watching the other women prepare to stand.  “One . . . two . . . three!”

On three, the roommates lifted their rifles above the lip of the barrier and pulled the trigger, seeking out bright flashes where their shot
s might count.  Hannah snapped off two quick rounds, Raven doing the same, but to her right – only silence.  Back on their haunches, Raven glared at Bobi.  “I thought you could help us?”

“I can and I will.  Gun was on safety – sorry.”

“Okay, we do it again,” Raven ordered, ejecting the spent cartridge from the rifle’s chamber and smoothly sliding the next casing into place.

“Scoot down, Willie doesn’t want us shooting from the same place.”  Hannah was the one reminding them, physically pushing them further down the wall.  “Where’s Ziggy?  Thought you two would be arm-in-arm.”

“He went to check on Mick and the children, but he should be here by now,” the Falconer woman answered.  A couple of meters down the berm, they repeated their performance but with the addition of Bobi’s AK-47 also lighting up the night.  The gun’s barrel jerked and kicked, knocking her almost off her feet before she crouched back behind the wall.

“I didn’t hit crap,” Bobi shouted, disappointed with the way she’d handled the powerful assault rifle.

“Lean into it, Bobi.  You’ve got to hold the front end down.”  Hannah’s words of encouragement gave hope and inspired a touch of confidence in the dark skinned woman.

The battle raged for what seemed like hours
, but in reality, only minutes had passed.  The balance of time was somehow strangely warped when the possibility of a quick death was at play.  In those first few minutes of the battle for Banff, a stalemate existed; men and women of both sides, unwilling to expose themselves to unwarranted risk.  However, as is the nature of an armed standoff, neither force advanced their position, achieved their objective or proclaimed themselves victorious.  All around them windows shattered, slugs slammed into trees and walls, with few, if any, casualties falling as a result of the intense gunfire.  The fact was not lost on Chief Gladue, who watched from a safe distance; unhappy with the way his Braves were carrying out his orders, and determined to see them succeed.

“Lou, what are they waiting for?” Darwin shouted, stomping back and forth in front of the dark Suburban.  The rhetorical question went unanswered but not unheard.  Louis looked on, stone-faced and attentive to the battle taking place a short distance from where they stood.  In a very wishful
, and secretly gratifying way, he was enjoying Trevor’s falter and lack of expediency.  He did not relish in the sight or thought of his tribe’s people falling but he was a believer; a believer in a vision that Chief Gladue had seen, packaged, and sold to his faithful followers.  This battle and the resultant rewards would be bought and paid for with the crimson blood of those who truly believed, or others, too weak to object and flee.  The security man knew what the chief had not been able to admit, or yet fathom; there were more of the weak among his flock than the truly converted.  A faction who might one day be a problem, that is, if they survived the night.

“Take a message to GAW.  I want them to storm t
he inn.  Tell them to use cover-and-fire techniques to protect themselves but we’re not going to take anything if they waste their ammo shooting at ghosts.”  After issuing the order, Gladue watched the SUV roar down the street, leaving him to pace in the open road.

The clash’s intensity amplified significantly, forcing the Suburban to a halt not far from the inn.  A bullet ricocheted off the hood, narrowly missing the oversized man
, as he fetched his SLR and ran for the cover of a nearby building.  A young woman, with black makeup covering most of her face, pressed her back against a wall and dared not move.  Lou scowled at her but did not push her to action.  “Where’s Trevor?”  His voice boomed, rattling the girl, who could not bring herself to speak.  She merely pointed over her shoulder to a stairway that led to the entrance of a second floor condo unit, where the door had been kicked in.

Before he left
, he lowered his face to hers and issued an obvious threat.  “I don’t want you here when I get back.”  The frightened woman closed her eyes and pushed herself, even more firmly, against the building, summoning the courage to plunge into the fight.  It would not come, not now, and no second chance would be given as she ran west, through brush and cover to emerge on the opposite side of the conflict.

At the top of the stairs, Louis entered a small apartment, the muzzle of his rifle leading the way.  Two men, Trevor and
Ponyrider, were positioned behind a toppled couch and were periodically firing at the inn across the street.  The sound of the big man spun Arcand around, with his AR-15 ready to fire.  “Put that toy away before you hurt somebody, Trevor,” the giant grunted, his rifle aimed, and he, being fully prepared to pull the trigger.

“What you doing here?  Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something?” the GAW leader shouted, ducking well below the window’s sill. 
Ponyrider ignored the two, hoping he might not get dragged into the verbal conflict.  He periodically peeked over the furniture but may no attempt to fire his weapon.