One refugee camp to the north had been forced to evacuate, fleeing south with enemy soldiers hot on their heels. The few remaining fighters in the area fought desperately just to keep the blockheads from flanking other positions and hitting them from behind, and there wasn’t much they could do to stop the enemy from pouring up into the mountains there.
Then in the late afternoon things finally started going their way. General Lassiter, who’d been in the south where the fighting was a bit less fierce, had almost completely abandoned his defensive positions down there, with little more than a few thousand men and a host of booby traps to keep the enemy back.
But instead of bringing his people up through the mountains to reinforce the defensive positions that were buckling, the General took every vehicle he had and struck out along I-70, blasting through the blockhead positions there. Then he roared up the roads east and west of the mountains, capturing and looting enemy encampments, freeing prisoners, and attacking the blockheads assaulting the mountain approaches from behind.
The enemy found themselves pinned between US troops in vehicles and defensive emplacements they’d been breaking themselves against all day, and quickly crumbled under the pressure. Although Lassiter reported losses an order of magnitude greater than those defending the mountains, his bold action completely destroyed the enemy assault along the southern stretch of their territory.
As darkness fell the General continued his advance up the valleys to the east and west, and the defensive positions he’d saved had begun sending their spare fighters north through the mountains to bolster other fronts.
The fighting died down with nightfall. The blockheads had already discovered that night attacks went poorly for them, and while Lassiter and his vehicles had enough light to continue fighting, the enemy had started to pull back and regroup to face him, seriously on the defensive for the first time since the war began. He couldn’t keep pushing against that sort of fortified resistance, so he had his troops dig in and prepare their own defenses for the next day’s fighting.
It took a long time for Matt to fall asleep that night, and from the tense way Sam lay motionless in his arms she wasn’t having any more luck. Any conversation they tried fizzled out in the tension, and they both strained to hear the sounds of fighting in the night, even though tucked in the valley refuge they were far enough away that almost no noise of combat had reached them. For a while they found other ways to distract themselves from their fears, and that intimacy provided a welcome comfort. But it only lasted for so long, and afterwards they fell right back into silent worrying.
Sam finally fell asleep in his arms, her tenseness fading away and her breathing softening into light snores. Somehow, feeling his wife finally relax eased some of Matt’s own worry, and he was also able to sink down into fitful sleep.
After the enemy had withdrawn early in the afternoon, following the landslide and once again being thrown back down 31 to the mouth of the canyon, Davis gave everyone who seriously needed the rest a chance to get it.
That included Lewis, Jane, and their squads, who’d been up all night and fighting all morning. They’d gratefully jumped at the offer, collapsing into their tents in the newly built camp on the ridge and letting exhaustion take them.
The enemy only gave them four or so hours before starting up again, and Lewis felt like he’d barely gotten any rest at all as he and his wife dragged themselves out of their tent. He emerged into the late afternoon sunlight, shivering slightly at the chilly wind blowing across the ridge, to the news that the blockheads were gathering below for another attack.
But it didn’t turn out to be as bad as he’d feared. The enemy was very cautious about approaching them, both up the southern slope and in the canyon, after the brutal losses they’d suffered earlier. So while there was light fighting throughout the rest of the day, it seemed mostly like blockheads were trying to keep them occupied. They probably hoped their fellow soldiers on other fronts would win the war for them.
After nightfall hostilities almost entirely ceased, and Davis ordered his squad leaders to place double sentries and send everyone else to bed. He wanted his people rested for whatever happened in the morning.
He also warned them that they’d probably be going on the offensive at first light. General Lassiter had nearly fought his way to their position, and when he did Davis wanted them ready. They would either strike out into the valley and harass the enemy to keep them occupied, helping the General’s advance, or if it looked like Lassiter was holding his own then they’d hike as many people as they could spare northward, going through the mountains to help Faraday and the squads closer to Aspen Hill.
Lewis had expected to sleep poorly, but his exhaustion was enough to pull him down and keep him under. He barely had time to kiss his wife goodnight before passing out, and next thing he knew Jane was once again shaking him awake.
“Has Davis sent word?” he mumbled, peering through the open door flap. It was still dark outside. “Are we attacking or heading north?”
His wife was a pale silhouette in the darkness, her coppery hair looking black next to her face and neck. She hadn’t put on her gear yet aside from her night vision goggles, as if she’d just ducked outside to use the latrine or look around. “Neither,” she whispered. “Come see.”
“See what?” he asked, reaching for his shoes, but she was already gone.
He made an annoyed sound. Jane almost never played coy, and when she did it was usually by accident. If there was information to share she shared it, she didn’t hold it back to increase the suspense or make it a surprise. So either her nature had completely changed overnight, or she was so distracted by whatever it was that she’d barely taken the time to give him a heads up before heading back out.
He pulled on his own goggles and grabbed his binoculars, then slipped out of the tent. His wife was already halfway to the edge of the ridge, and he hurried to catch up to her as she climbed up a slight rise to a spot that gave them a view of Huntington. As he stepped up beside her she pointed down at the town. Lewis lifted his binoculars, then drew in a sharp breath.
The blockheads were leaving.
Half the convoy that had occupied the town had already driven off, and from the looks of it the rest would be gone within the hour. They’d pulled back all the sentries and patrols and soldiers manning emplacements in the surrounding area to the town itself, although it looked as if they’d man Huntington’s fortifications there right up until the moment they left, just in case.
They were still cautious, even though Lewis and Davis hadn’t had too many opportunities to attack into the valley lately, and had never hit the town. Caution was just common sense, but even so he liked to think that he and the sergeant had made an impression. One the enemy wouldn’t soon forget.
“Are they pulling back ahead of Lassiter’s advance, you think?” Jane asked. “Maybe relocating to attack somewhere else?”
Lewis could only shake his head in response. But whatever they were doing, he couldn’t see how it was anything but good news for him and his volunteers. He thumbed his mic. “Halsson here. Sergeant Davis, you seeing this?”
The radio was silent for almost ten seconds before the sergeant replied in a curt tone. “Wait one, Halsson.”
“Lewis?” Rick said over the Aspen Hill volunteers’ channel, he was one of the four sentries Trev had put out. “Do you think this is it?”
Lewis frowned. “Is what it?”
“You know. It. The blockheads are leaving, Canada’s in open revolt and they’re not getting any supplies, and they’ve got an entire country with a hostile populace they’re trying to occupy. Are they finally giving up? Did we win?”