Fall of the Cities: Planting the Orchard Read online

  PLANTING THE ORCHARD

  Fall of the Cities – Book I

  BY

  VANCE HUXLEY

  This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

  © 2015 Vance Huxley

  Published by Entrada Publishing.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1 — No Finesse

  Chapter 2 — Homecoming

  Chapter 3 — Riots and Broom Cupboard

  Chapter 4 — Parlez Vous and Goodbye

  Chapter 5 — Sister and Rug Rats

  Chapter 6 — Forting Up

  Chapter 7 — Breakout - On the Lam

  Chapter 8 — Finding an Orchard

  Chapter 9 — Berry Beer

  Chapter 10 — Enclave

  Chapter 11 — Setting Boundaries

  Chapter 12 — Armageddon

  Chapter 13 — Making a Stand

  Chapter 14 — Firestorm

  Chapter 15 — Goodbyes

  List of Characters

  To my Noeline and to the Joy of my life

  Thank you to my editor Sharon Umbaugh,

  for turning my words into a book worth reading.

  Chapter 1:

  No Finesse

  “Hey, it’s soft lad. Blimey, what are you doing on the Iraq border, up on the sharp end?” The wide smile took the sting out of the words as the corporal punched the arm of a soldier stacking boxes in the front of the lorry. The soldier turned showing that he was also a corporal but his uniform was a lot cleaner.

  “Hey Stones. Why are you lot running away? Now the Mad Mullahs have come to play in Kuwait, us office weenies are getting nervous. We’ve been sent back to Camp Bastille with the pay records but I thought you’d be out there slaughtering them with both hands.” Corporal Harry Miller punched the SAS man in the shoulder in return, then looked over the corporal’s shoulder.

  “Are your lot going native?” Four of the eight men climbing into the back of the lorry were wearing robes and looked a lot like locals except for the pale, shaven faces smiling out from under the headgear. That and the Army kitbags they were throwing into the lorry or sitting on.

  “No, somebody in Bastille is getting worried and needs a few bods to poke around the neighbourhood. That’s us, but are those really the pay records?” Stones was peering at the boxes stacked in the front of the lorry. “Can you bump me a grade?”

  “Sod off. How come you’ve got the stripes back?”

  “Clean living, Harry. Oy, you lot, we’ve got protection on the way back.” Harry winced while Stones turned to the rest, now sat on kitbags holding a variety of weaponry.

  “What, the pay corps? Will he buy them off?” The speaker pulled off his helmet and rubbed his almost bald head. “He can swap hats so I get one without sand in it?” There was a little bit of curled lip and a little sneer in the words.

  “Be careful, Tez. He can shoot that thing of yours a lot better than you can.” Stones pointed to Tez’s rifle and the fat scope on top of it. “Bastard used to beat the crap out me at the rifle club before he joined up.”

  Harry resigned himself to this because Stones thought the story was funny and loved to tell others. “The little sod was only sixteen and it was a bit bloody annoying when I came home from the Army full of piss and vinegar. Went down the club to show them how Army do it and Harry had joined, and I got my ass whupped.”

  “So why is he a bloody clerk then? A pay clerk. Is this another sodding wind-up Stones, because I’m not in the mood?” This soldier was laid on one side rather than sat.

  “That’s because you’ve got a bullet in the ass rather than a sense of humour Ferdy. You should get down lower when there’s incoming. Though the rest of us were safe hiding behind that big arse of yours.”

  “He likes pizza and chips too much.” There was some more banter and the men forgot Harry which was fine by him.

  Though after a few miles of bumping along the dusty roads Tez was bored enough to return to the subject. Stones and Harry were catching up on who was doing what back home when Tez interrupted. “So if he can shoot this thing, why is he a pay puke?”

  “In case some rough sod like you runs off with the cash box?” Stones nudged Harry. “Tell them Harry.”

  “I can shoot targets but I really don’t like shooting at people.” Harry braced himself for the usual disbelief and ridicule.

  “He didn’t even like shooting those targets with the pictures on. Drove the bloody instructors crackers. He’s a better shot than most of them but gets all wobbly about what he shoots.” Stones was having a wonderful time. Harry wasn’t but he knew Stones wasn’t being malicious, the idiot truly did find this really, really funny.

  “So why are you in the Army then?” The rest were interested now.

  Harry sighed. “Because I joined up, and then found out about my little problem. It was a bit late then.”

  A third voice joined in from under a robe. “What did you score on the ranges? What are you classed as? Marksman?”

  Harry smiled because he found this bit funny himself. “I’m a crap shot according to the Army.”

  “What?” The robe was pulled open and a thin, suspicious face peered out. “So Stones is just winding us up?”

  “No I’m not. Harry here shot lovely little neat groups, the sort you dream of Dobbin. He just shot them in the outer target ring, or through the top right shoulder of the target figure.” Stones had his big grin back. “Always the top right shoulder. Then he’d put enough holes dead centre to get a pass. Harry spent more time painting rocks and polishing toilets than all of the rest put together.” Stones pointed at Tez. “When we get back we’ll get him on the range and I bet he whups you. I’ll want four to one odds though.”

  “You’re on at two to one.” Tez lifted his rifle briefly. “No civvie target range asshole can outshoot me at a proper distance.” The soldier scowled at the rifle. “I wish we hadn’t had to leave our real gear back there. Why have we been issued with outdated crap?”

  “Because the ones we left need the modern rifles and these were good enough the last time we did this shit. We’ll get decent gear again once we get to Bastille. Now stop griping because this isn’t exactly a bloody combat patrol.” The thin-faced man pulled his robe around him and turned his back. “Bloody prima donna,” he muttered.

  “Is that an excuse for backing out Tez? You’re going to blame the weapon?” The sneer in Stones’s voice brought another scowl from Tez, aimed at Harry.

  “Not a chance. I can beat a pay clerk with a bloody catapult.” “Sorted. Ah, I forgot to mention the ranges he can get those little groups. Naughty me.” Stones leant back, happy to have got the bet confirmed. “The instructors were curious as well so he’s used one of those sights Tez. Tough titty.”

  Tez opened his mouth to reply but a giant picked up the entire truck, shook it and threw it down the road. That’s how it felt anyway.

  * * *

  Harold never could remember the actual blast, only the lovely soft sand. A glance to the side told him the sand was better than the big rocks some of the others hit. Harry noticed papers scattered about and was wondering how long it would take to file them properly when he realised what had happened. IED. Improvised Explosive Device and
a really big one. Harry started to get up.

  “Get your head down you bloody idiot!” That was Stones, and he sounded a bit shaken up. Which was another stupid observation considering the circumstances so Harry shook his head to clear it. A rattle of shooting and a big clang on metal behind him encouraged Harry to stay very still for a few moments.

  “Here you bloody moron. Get in here.” Harry glanced over towards the voice and rolled over that way. That left him sliding down the sides of a big hole. Harry grunted as he found the rocks on the way down and he looked around properly. This was a bloody big hole and the front of the lorry hanging over the lip had been very badly mangled.

  Then Harry saw a figure in robes with blood staining the sand around his head, and Tez who was unconscious or dead. Tez had lost his sandy helmet and his arm was twisted out of line with white sticking out of the break. “Christ, Stones, are you all right?”

  “No you silly bugger. My leg is screwed up.” Broken, Harry realised when he looked at it. “Which means I can’t crawl up there and shoot those bastards.” Harry put his hands up and caught the weapon Stones threw to him. “Stick that over the top and send a few down-range will you? Then I can sort this out.” A pale-faced Stones gestured at his leg.

  Harry looked at the rifle and hesitated but he could shoot near enough to make them duck. Kill the bastards some part of his mind encouraged, because they’re trying to kill you, and Stones. Harry gritted his teeth and started up the side of the hole. “All right. I’ll just stick it over the top and pull the trigger.”

  “Be bloody careful.” Stones pointed at the figure with blood around his head. “One of them can shoot. That was a single shot.” Stones’s voice hardened. “For fuck’s sake Harry, just shoot the bastard. Through the fucking head.”

  Harry looked at the big fat scope on the rifle Stones had thrown to him and realised why Stones had done it. He took a deep breath and Stones spoke again, quietly. “Poke the barrel up nice and slow between a couple of those rocks on the lip. If there’s no response slide up a bit and look for him. If you can’t see anyone I’ll get his attention.” Stones grunted and when Harry glanced over the soldier had got a rifle tight against his leg and had tightened his belt round it. Then Stones leaned back and shut his eyes.

  Harry did as he was told. “Can’t see anybody like that though there’s some blokes loosing off bursts from the rocks.” Moments later there was a puff of smoke up on a bluff behind the other shooters and a thump nearby. Harry jerked his head sideways.

  Stones waved the helmet on a rifle barrel. “He just shot my stupid friend here. Now kill him Harry. Otherwise when the others decide to come over here and finish the job we won’t be able to do fuck all about it.” Stones glared. “I could do it so you can. If I wasn’t stuck here dicking about with my leg I’d smack you silly. Just shoot him.”

  Harry looked through the scope at the little lump where the smoke had come from. Stones spoke up again. “Get ready Harry. My stupid friend is going to take another peek over the top.” Harry looked at the wind and it was barely fluttering the paperwork scattered about. Then he fiddled with the sights and settled down. That lump was just a target, same as at the range.

  Crack and thump and a puff of smoke, and then the hump lifted a little and Harry tightened his finger just a bit. The hump dropped until it was almost invisible and stayed there and Harry got his head round it. Harry was sure if he’d missed, the bloke would have rolled aside or pulled back. If Harry had hit the hump then the man was dead. There aren’t any other sort of head wounds from rifle bullets unless the victim was insanely lucky. “Got him.”

  “Good. Now you’ve got over that, kill some more of them while I sort out Tez and get up there to give you a hand.” Stones sounded about a thousand miles away because there was a funny sort of buzz or something in Harry’s head and then it cleared. He adjusted the sights and started to shoot at the men in the rocks who were loosing off bursts.

  Harry was in some odd place now, where he knew these were people but now he’d got really bloody mad at them. They’d killed that bloke with blood round his head, and who knew how many more, and were trying to kill Stones. Bastards.

  Harry moved the sights from one to another and took the time to do it right. Just like being on the range even if there were whining noises and clangs now and then. When the fourth tribesman fell the return fire almost stopped. Now there was just an occasional gun barrel round a rock and a quick spray of bullets.

  Harry looked back at Stones. The corporal had rolled Tez into the recovery position and was now inching up the side of the hole with a rifle in his hand. “Why have you stopped?”

  Harold shrugged. “I shot some and the rest hid.”

  “So keep them there. It’s called suppressive fire, you prat. Don’t worry, I’ll be there in a sec. How many did of the others did you shoot.”

  “Four.”

  “Ha. Four shots. I knew you could do it.” Stones heaved himself up a bit more and peered over the lip, then slid his rifle forward and settled it against his shoulder. “If we’re lucky they’ll piss off. If not it’ll get very exciting. Have you got over the problem with shooting people?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Harry thought a moment. Yes, he was still mad enough to do it. “I just have to lose my temper.”

  Stones looked across for a long moment. “Yeah, you never lose it do you? Christ, so that’s the trick. Remind me not to tease you so much.” He grimaced. “Ah shit, the pain relief isn’t working as advertised.” The two of them watched the rocks and Stones put a couple of rounds into them now and then. That kept down the number of times someone over there got ambitious. Harry did wonder if any of the other soldiers had survived, but climbing out of the hole to look wasn’t really possible.

  Afterwards Stones said it was because the tribesmen found out their sniper was dead, and were very fond of him. Whatever the reason the group of them burst from the rocks, shooting as they came. Harry got two with the scope but that was useless as they came nearer. The view was too limited so Harry used the rifle as a shotgun, looking over the barrel with both eyes open. Men were staggering and falling so either Harry or Stones were on target. A big bang announced the grenade Stones had thrown but there were still some men advancing when Harry’s rifle ran out of ammo.

  Harry didn’t have any ammo on him, because he was a pay clerk. There was a moment when Harry was thankful that the tribesmen had also run out of ammo and then he saw the bloody sword. The man running towards him was waving the damn thing and screeching like a banshee. As the man came over the edge of the hole Harry backed off and raised the useless rifle, and fell over.

  The robed figure stumbled on the slope and dropped towards Harry and onto his knees, sword raised. Though he stopped before getting down to his knees or swinging the blade. The swordsman’s mouth opened in an almost perfect O and his eyes bugged out, and he dropped his sword.

  The man curled up and dropped away and Harry realised why as his rifle barrel came free of the man’s groin. The bloke had no interest in Harry at all, and was now curled in a ball making high-pitched yipping noises. Harry looked round for the source of the screaming and yelling.

  Stones was rolling about with another tribesman, and making most of the noise. Later Stones claimed it was his battle-cry, but Harry was fairly sure it was the pain from the broken leg being banged on the floor. Another robed figure was trying to get a clear cut at Stones with a sword. “Oy, you!” Harry threw the bloody useless rifle at the standing man and it hit him on the back of the legs.

  The man turned, raised the sword and started for Harry. “Oh shit.” A bayonet wasn’t going to be any bloody good now the rifle was over there. Harry saw the sword his own victim had dropped and picked it up. Unfortunately that meant he was on his knees as the advancing swordsman started to run up the slope. Harry threw himself forward and took a bloody great two handed swipe sideways.

  The man screamed and came down to his knees and, having lunged, Harry
tumbled into him and the pair rolled down the slope. Harry was panicking now as well as still being bloody angry. He lashed out sideways as both of them tried to get up and the man dropped backwards to avoid the stroke. “Fucking stop still!” Harry raised the sword over his head, double-handed, and brought it down on the bit still in range.

  That was a leg but the man screamed anyway and Harry shuffled forward, raising the sword and hacking down again and again. “Fucking. Lie. Still. Bastard. Fucking. Lie. Still. Bastard. Fucking. Bastard.”

  “Harry! Harry.” Harry stopped and Stones continued in a quieter voice. “I think he’s had enough, Harry.” Harry looked at the gory mess in front of him and threw up over the man. He sort of thought it was disrespectful but couldn’t help it. In the background, Harry could still hear Stones. “Christ, Harry, why didn’t you stab him? That’s why it’s got a pointy bit you know.”

  There was the sharp crack of a rifle made his head ring and Harry turned, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Stones had a rifle again and must have put a clip in. “Just making sure since I don’t want a rematch.” Despite the banter Stones was sheet white and had blood spattered over his uniform. His erstwhile opponent was also bloody and now had a hole in his head. Another bang and Harry’s opponent jerked. Stones raised the rifle again as both looked to where Harry’s first victim was still curled up, moaning softly. Stones shot him through the head as well.

  “Here.” Harry took the proffered rifle. “Get up there again. Stick that over the top and have a look. Anyone still standing or moving, shoot them through the fucking head. Here’s a spare clip.” Stones laid back as Harry took the spare ammo. “I’m going to need a minute and then I’ll join you. Now piss off and give me some peace.”

  Harry was still in a really odd place in his head, all very clear but not quite real. He was also still both frightened and angry as he climbed back up the slope. So Harry shot anyone still moving, through the head. Nobody was standing though one was sat up and one on his hands and knees, and Harry shot them first. Stones’s voice came from behind after Harry stopped shooting. “Is that it?”