Whatever it was, it was an annoyance. And potentially a problem.
As the headlights turned vaguely in their direction Lewis slowly sank to the ground, motioning for the people behind him to mimic his movements. “Just hold still,” he hissed. “Even if they come this way on the nearest road, there’s a rise between us and it so the headlights won’t shine directly on us. As long as none of us moves, we shouldn’t catch the eye of anyone looking out into the darkness from a moving vehicle.”
He was confident in his words, and after some close calls with the raiders he could back up that confidence with experience. People driving in trucks were surprisingly blind at night. And although it was possible they were using night vision and headlights both, it didn’t seem likely.
He just hoped he was right. If they were caught they might be able to take out the truck, but even if they could it would be a dangerous sprint back to the safety of the mountains, with enemies hot on their heels. He supposed they could try to pull a Ben and shoot the driver, then steal the truck and drive to safety. But even that was a last resort.
As the headlights continued to sweep their way he went perfectly still, even holding his breath as the glow passed above them. The rise kept the light from shining directly on anyone, and he couldn’t even see the vehicle creating the nimbus in the air overhead. Still, he felt a surge of relief as the eternal second passed and the light swept on, accompanied by the rumble of the engine receding as the vehicle continued on its way.
They hadn’t been spotted.
Just to be sure, the first thing he did once the truck was out of sight was rise up behind cover and check the nearest blockhead sentry posts, hundreds of yards away in either direction. They showed no signs of alarm, so he supposed the crisis was past.
“Let’s go,” he whispered, and continued on.
Over the next hour they slowed to a crawl to cover the last distance, dangerously close to the taller hill overlooking the shelter. The cover became far more scarce, and they had to rely mostly on not making any sudden movements that would give them away. No more staying comfortably out of sight.
Lewis had carefully built the observation posts atop the two hills the shelter was nestled between, to be sure they covered a complete field of view of the area. That was inconvenient for their current purposes, but he definitely didn’t consider it an oversight. Although for just this sort of situation he had made sure the two posts had one blind spot, and that was directly over the entrance to the secret tunnel itself.
Getting to it was a challenge, but once there he was confident they’d be able to get inside without risk of discovery.
With only a few dozen feet left to go he had the scare of his life, when a sudden shout from the observation post nearly within stone’s throw made them all freeze in their military crawls. Lewis listened to the unfamiliar language, not Russian but possibly Eastern European.
That would fit with what he’d heard about the army from the south being made up of Gold Bloc signatory nations, but he couldn’t be sure. It probably didn’t matter much for their purposes either way, but even so he wished he understood it so he’d know if the jig was up.
Then another voice spoke up in reply, and the first sentry laughed. Lewis felt his shoulders loosen, and he looked up to see one of the blockheads rising from the observation post. The man said something else, then ambled a short distance away to relieve himself.
He was wearing night vision, and his back was turned to them. The other sentry was looking his way, still idly shooting the breeze. This was probably the best opportunity they could hope for.
Lewis motioned, then rose to a crouch and crabbed the rest of the way to the blind spot before ducking down. Jane was right behind him, and she joined him digging at the ground with their knives to expose the board covering the tunnel’s exit. While they worked the other volunteers quickly joined them and gathered in a clump.
In less than fifteen seconds they’d uncovered the buried plywood square. Jane caught one corner and hauled it up, motioning sharply, and Lewis nodded and dropped down inside, beginning the long crawl along the cramped space to reach the end.
So far so good. Of course getting here had been the “easy” part.
He took care to be as quiet as possible, even though it was about two hundred yards to the entrance to the shelter. The floor cover inside the shower was thick and sturdy and would mute a good bit of noise, but it wasn’t perfect and the enemy was sleeping on the other side.
With that in mind it was slightly annoying to hear how much noise the people following behind him were making. He’d cautioned them to be quiet in this part, and they were probably trying. Even so he kept hearing the scraping sounds of rifles or boots on the dirt floor, ceilings, or walls. Not to mention breathing loud enough to wake the dead.
After what felt like an eternity Lewis reached the end of the tunnel. Once he was sure there wasn’t a soldier making use of the facilities above, he carefully pushed aside the false bottom of the shower and poked his head out, looking around. After confirming the bathroom was empty he silently pulled himself out of the tunnel and crept over to the door. It creaked ever so slightly as he cracked it open and peered out.
It was oddly surreal to be home, the shelter he’d built with his own hands, doing his best to stay hidden with the air around him heavy with the presence of enemies. Dozens of enemies. The safe place he’d built and welcomed his friends and family into was now a barrack for the Gold Bloc.
The blockheads definitely considered it theirs now; all the soldiers on their cots were sleeping peacefully. And why not, when they couldn’t imagine an attack would come right in the middle of their sleeping area, without their attackers even needing to use the door.
While making this plan it had been tempting to suggest they just padlock the shelter’s door from the inside, lob a few lit Molotov cocktails among the sleeping soldiers, and then flee back down the tunnel and hope to escape in the confusion. It had seemed safer on the surface.
But it wasn’t. Not only did that approach offer less potential to do damage to the blockheads and steal some of their supplies, in most ways it also put them in greater danger. They’d be running on foot, hoping a pissed off enemy with vehicles wouldn’t get organized in time to catch them. Not a winning strategy; his more ambitious plan was better in just about every way, including the exit strategy.
Assuming nothing went wrong. Especially with this next step.
Lewis returned to the shower and looked down at the volunteers who’d come with him, expectantly waiting for him to give the all clear. Time was of the essence, but he still found himself hesitating for just a moment as he steeled himself for what they had to do.
Then he leaned down into the hole until his face was nearly touching Jane’s, with Tam and Carl not far behind her. His dad and Martin were next in line, making up the last two of the six, including Lewis himself, who’d be taking care of the blockheads in the shelter.
“All right,” he whispered, almost under his breath. “Remember. We can’t make a noise and neither can they. Cover their mouths and hold them down if you have to.”
The group packed into the tunnel’s entrance nodded. Even with night vision Lewis could see that a lot of them looked nervous, even slightly sick. He didn’t blame them.
This part of the plan was the one Lewis dreaded most, and not only because of the danger. He was having trouble forgetting the sight of the blockhead scouts in the canyon being cut down by his M2, and this was far more up close and personal. Practically speaking it was no different from when he and Jane had staged their early morning attack on the raider camp, but the impractical ways in which it was different made all the difference.