Chapter 26 – The Next Fight
The Courier had to admit, that even though MacCready was a bit of a skinny weed, the bugger was as heavy as all fuck. He would have liked to say that he could run while fireman carrying the guy, but Courier was reduced to a fast shuffle at best.
Having been crucified himself once… the legionaries responsible had paid dearly for it, he knew that the stresses on the joints was immense and the pain, he didn't want to think about how much the young guys shoulders were screaming at him right now.
He didn't know how much of a window he had, not sure how long it would take for the tribe to realise that they were missing one MacCready sized entrée and he didn't want to pause to see if they were after him yet.
As he had snuck around their settlement, he had stumbled upon an NCR crate labelled explosives. He'd cracked the crate and found, much to his glee and delight, a nearly full box of Frag grenades. Whatever plan he had come up with was now null and void... he was simply gonna blow some shit up.
His diversion consisted of a pretty wicked explosion that took out the generators and plunged the building into darkness. The outside was still lit up by the bonfire but most of the tribals had run to investigate either the explosion or the fires that he had set in a couple of their tents. He had slunk up behind the guard closest to the cross and slit his throat and then cut the binds that held RJ in place. MacCready might have seemed fine while he had been hanging up there glaring at his captors but he was in truth, too weak to stand. He had muffled a cry of pain when Courier had hoisted him over his shoulders and carted him out into the darkness.
The I70 was smooth enough and when he made it back to it the going was a little easier but he was honest to god tired. He came to a stop breathing heavily. He balanced MacCready on his shoulders while he manipulated his pipboy. Zac's Frequency was there and he needed an update.
"You hear me, Hobson?" Courier rumbled as he started walking again, holding MacCready in place.
"Yeah man." Zacs voice came back, "They're on their way and I'm coming back… You got him?"
"Yep, got him. I gotta be honest though…I'm flagging." Courier grimaced. "Upside is, I found some grenades."
"Good for you, buddy. I'll see you soon."
The Courier ploughed on, trying to put the pain and encroaching exhaustion from his mind. After a while he was almost wishing that the tribals would catch him. He kept his eyes focussed on the long, light ribbon of road ahead. Hoping that he would see one of his people emerge out of the gloom.
Soon his hopes came to fruition when he saw a lone figure making its way towards him. The fuzzy image solidified into one Zac Hobson.
"Oh MY God… gasp puff… fuck running… no more fucking running." Zac weezed as he came to a stop before the Courier.
He bent over, his hands on his knees and his head hanging low and he panted, trying to drag oxygen into his starving lungs. The Courier understood, he was almost there himself. He had to lower MacCready to the ground. Zac gathered his composure enough to inject a stimpak into RJ. They could at least start the healing process, if not lessen his pain. They needed him lucid, just in case, they would dose him with Med-ex when they were in a little less peril.
"I can walk now." MacCready said quietly, subdued after his incarceration on the cross and the threat of being devoured.
Courier nodded but left him sitting in the road as he turned and looked back to way he had come. In the distance, the sky was stained with a dirty orange light. It looked like his little attempt at arson was now a pretty big attempt at arson. It looked like the whole settlement had gone up in flames. He wondered if they had even noticed that there was a dead guard and a missing prisoner or if they were occupied with saving their worldly possessions and their lives.
If they weren't after them now, they would be soon, for vengeance if for nothing else.
The newly reunited trio started off down the I70 again, they moved slowly for MacCreadys sake, though the two other men were glad of the reprieve from the running.
Zac filled them in on his conversation with Arthur, the rest of the group were on their way but Boone and Max were still not one hundred percent yet and they were very far away. Zac gave MacCready a 9mm pistol that he'd picked up from the tribal army, so at least all of them would be armed and Courier also handed the two of them a couple of grenades each. He contemplated setting a few booby traps on the road to slow down anyone following but he had no wire for trips. He sighed and walked on.
After a couple of miles, RJ said they could sped up a little and they managed a slow jog. They kept that pace up right up until Arthur Maxsons form came at them from out of the darkness, followed by Boone, Max and Cade. Max by passed all of them when she reached the trio and took RJ up in a crushing hug.
"Oh God, RJ" She cried feebly, her voice muffling in the folds of his coat. MacCready flinched back as he shoulders twinged in protest and she released him with a hasty apology and a concerned look at the Courier.
"Crucified." He grunted and she looked at MacCready in horror.
He gave a weak shrug as if it was nothing and then turned an irritated glare at Max. "Why did you just run off into an army?" He questioned her. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Max sighed. "We should get going… I'll give a blanket apology to everyone when we get back to the post office."
Cade took a moment to check over MacCready and administer another stimpak and then the now complete group started back to their cover at a good trot.
"I am going to be so fit when this is all over." Zac panted.
They were all exhausted when they made it back to their temporary base of operations, but they couldn't rest. They had run back and forwards for the whole night and as the sun rose, the tribals would be hunting them down. RJ refused the Med-ex, he insisted he was feeling better and his shoulders barely even hurt now. There was no need to knock him out.
The group fortified the ground floor of the Post office and took stock of what they had to defend themselves against the force that would undoubtable fall on them soon. Max and Boone divvied up the .308 rounds, MacCready couldn't shoulder his rifle, so he was given Cades laser pistol. With little to no recoil in the energy weapon it was better suited to his current conditions. The dead tribals had a wide variety of ammo, even a few .45-70's for the Couriers choice weapons. He decided to take to the roof with Boone and Max to help pick off hostiles until his new ammo ran out and then he would reinforce the group downstairs.
They waited… waiting was always torturous but even more so for Max as the whole group wanted to have a go at her for disappearing mid fight… even though she pointed out that she had eliminated at least two dozen of the attacking force discretely from within their ranks. She was not in the least bit cowed by them all ganging up on her. She had her way of doing things, she couldn't change what she knew.
"It's time for you to realise that you're part of a group now, Princess." Courier growled from his position by the window.
"I do realised that, Buttercup." She snided back. "And what I did was for the good of the group. I am trained in solo covert operations."
"You're not going to do the group any good if you die alone in a field, Princess." He grated back through gritted teeth. "What if that machete had killed you?"
"Then I would be dead, Buttercup." She snapped.
"Hey," Zac chirped up, trying to cut the tension in the room. "If we're picking cutsie nicknames… I bags Cupcake."
They fell silent as Max glared across the expanse at the Courier. "I'm going to my mark." She huffed, before stalking from the room. Boone sighed and followed her out.
The two of them took up their position on the roof and looked out down the I70 for any sign of the expected visitors.
"We were all worried." Boone murmured.
Max sighed. "I know and I'm sorry."
"Good to hear." Courier said, stomping up the stairs behind them, holding both his lever action and MacCreadys .308. He turned to Boone, "Zac has decided your cutsie nickname is Milkmaid."
Boone grunted.
"Maxson got Angel Fish, Cade got Starshine and MacCready got Moonpie." Courier informed them. "Cade wanted Gumdrop… I think they're still arguing the point."
The three of them hunkered down on the roof and looked to the Northwest.
"Max" Courier said gently, "I don't know if you know this, but you're what binds this group together."
Boone nodded, watching the horizon for signs of movement.
"When you're in peril, whether you can handle it alone or not, we can't focus." Courier glanced over at her, she was staring into the distance. "You wanted me to be open and honest… here it is. If you had died out in that field. The rest of us would be dead now too. Don't be so damned selfish."
She nodded.
"Your actions don't just effect you now. You go down, we all do."
She grimaced and nodded again not trusting her voice. She pulled her sunglasses off the top of her head and rested them over her eyes.
Boone raised his rifle to his shoulder and winked down the scope.
"Movement." He muttered.
Max raised 'Nevasee' and peered into the distance. There they were, a howling pack of angry tribals each and every one screaming for blood. Max dropped to her belly and lay her rifle across the guttering. She steadied her breathing and eyeballed the lead tribal, way in the distance. She calmly breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. Two and a half miles and closing. In through her nose…. Out through her mouth…squeeze.
Boone watched as the tribal out in front fell a second or two later
He blinked into his scope and looked at Max in surprise. How had she made that shot?
Her fingers flew on the bolt, chambering another round as she sighted her next target. Nevasee pfft'ed as the next round flew. Boone watched through his scope as another fell. He heard the bolt close again and Nevasee hissed with her suppressed shot. Courier couldn't see what was happening but he could tell by Boones shocked face that every shot she was firing into the distance was hitting a mark. The two Mojave boys stayed silent, not wanting to break her concentration. Boone scooted to her side a fresh magazine in his hand. His best shot was two point one miles. Max was leaving that for dead. She really didn't need that fancy rifle that was now languishing at the bottom of Lake Michigan.
Max ejected her spent magazine and took the next, keeping her eyes on the enemy and reloading blind.
Boone came down by her side and sighted a tribal of his own. Courier shouldered MacCreadys rifle and watched. He knew he couldn't make a shot from here. He was a fair sniper but Max was a master and Boone, up until a few seconds ago was her equal. Now, he was a half a step behind and in awe.
Boone started firing when he knew the shots wouldn't be wasted. They had limited ammo and every shot needed to count. Courier waited even longer, advising the guys downstairs that the hostiles were two miles out. Though their peers were dropping beside them as if by magic, the horde did not falter.
There were about a hundred of them… but even at the distance, though fuelled by fury and the thirst for vengeance for their destroyed home, Courier could see that they were tired.
Max had spent two mags, each bullet downing a target. She loaded her third, moving almost mechanically with precision and purpose. Courier knew he wouldn't be making a shot with MacCreadys rifle. He ejected the mag and readied to hand it to one of the experts. Before taking up his lever action. He had eight shots.
Boone and Max went through the .308, seven full magazines. Forty nine dead tribals, nearly half their number down before they made it in range of the lever action. The tribals were now questioning their life choices.
The Courier made them want to turn around and go back to their sooty home. He stood up tall, sighted his eight targets and cranked his rifle to life. Eight booms rang out and eight more hostiles fell.
Max and Boone drew their 10mm's and Courier pulled out the little .357 police revolver, that he actually decided that he quite liked.
They waited a beat or two longer before levelling their weapons as one and opening fire. and they were joined by the sounds of their comrades below them doing the exact same thing.
Seven people in a crumbling Post office against a horde… it was like a scene out of some old movie.
AN: The longest recorded sniper shot to date was made by a British sniper Vs Taliban at a distance of 2.47 miles with a .338 – so I have fudged the distances a little… meh. It's my story, don't question me. :)