Part 22 (1/2)
Chewy sat at his feet and panted. Jerry petted her head and looked at Erica, ”You, too, girls. We've got to get to that town before that truck does.”
”Hey,” Trent said, ”before we go, could you never call us the bear brigade ever again?”
”Get on the truck, Trent.”
THIRTY.
The people of New Hope gathered before him. Strain from days of defense preparations had left them worn and tired. Several dozed while others batted their eyes in veiled attempts to stay awake. Logan paced the front of the room as everyone found their seats. All but the sentries had been called to the town hall barn.
Behind Logan was a map of the town, an aerial view that showed the walls of the city and where defensive positions would be taken. Archers were denoted by arrows, which seemed obvious to Logan, but the symbol took three votes and a compromise with the flamethrower committee to be accepted as the ”little symbol thingy” that would tell the archers where to stand. The compromise was that the flamethrower teams would be referred to as fire people instead of firemen and would be indicated on the map as a dove, because a flame seemed too violent. Medics chose ambulances instead of crosses in case some of the attackers were of a different belief system than the people of New Hope.
A gnarled pool cue served as his pointer. As the last person sat, he banged it against the wall to get the room's attention. It could never be used to shoot a game of pool again, but it was perfect for planning the defense of a walled town against the onslaught of merciless villains in a giant armored truck.
”Now, when the lookout spots the truck ...”
The door to the town hall barn burst open.
”The truck is coming!” the young lookout panted.
The citizens of New Hope began to panic.
Logan bashed the cue against the steel wall. Thunder roared inside the town hall barn. ”Calm down everyone. You all know what to do.”
Various voices in the crowd responded: ”No, we don't.”
”You hadn't started.”
”Am I an arrow or a fireman?”
”Fire-person!”
”Whatever.”
Logan snapped the cue pool cue over his knee. The crack bounced off the walls and silenced the crowd. ”Just get to your positions.”
The town hall barn emptied. Logan took the lead and scaled a fabricated ladder to the outer wall of the town with ease. The people followed. Some hesitated. Others stayed close to Logan.
The citizen soldiers grabbed tie-rod crossbows, shouldered rifles, or manned flamethrower turrets. Medics took position in doorways, ready to run to the aid of the fallen. Logan jumped from his perch to the roof of the cement truck as it rolled into place.
Carl stepped from the cab.
”Gadgeteer,” Logan yelled down to the small round man.
The town's gadget man looked up and smiled at hearing this. He gave Logan an enthusiastic thumbs up and an air fist b.u.mp. Logan held out his hand.
Carl threw an air high five. Logan stomped his foot on the hood, ”It means throw me the keys, you idiot.”
Carl was surprised at the outburst, but obediently dug into his pocket and tossed the keys to Logan.
The warrior grabbed them out of the air and stepped back onto the ledge that surrounded the wall. Pacing, his pistol in hand, he spoke to the people below him.
He turned his back to the wasteland and did his best to prepare the people for the coming horror.
”Remember,” he shouted to the town. ”The truck is most likely armored. Do not fire at the truck. Its walls are impenetrable. You must wait for the men to disembark.”
”It doesn't look that armored,” a woman holding a crossbow argued.
”Looks can be deceiving.”
”It looks like it's about to fall apart,” an older man said.
”He said it was huge. It's not that big.” This began a chorus of doubt that moved up and down the walls.
”There can't be more than a few men in there.”
”Is that a Winnebago?”
”I don't see the W.”
”I don't think they all have Ws.”
Logan turned to see a cloud of dust approaching.
”Bookworm?” he said under his breath. He yelled to the crowd, ”Hold your fire. It's not them.”
”How is that thing holding together?” The crowd continued to chatter as the motor coach pulled up to the gates of the town.
”Bookworm?” Logan shouted to the coach. With the winds.h.i.+eld shattered, he could see the mastiff in the pa.s.senger seat. Chewy growled.
Jerry stepped from the coach and stood before the town. ”Good people of the town of New Hope, you are in danger.”
”Really, a.s.shole? What do you think we're all doing up on the wall? Dumb a.s.s.”
The young man was grabbed by an ear and dragged off of the wall. ”Jefferson Davis Allen, you watch your mouth!”
”Logan is a fraud.” Jerry pointed to the warrior on the wall.
”You're the fraud, Bookworm,” Roy Tinner shouted back. ”Logan told us all about you, library boy.”
”Jerry,” Logan stepped in front of the agitated crowd. ”You should go. It's not safe here.”
”I never would have guessed it, Logan. It was you all along.”
”Jerry, take your girlfriend. And your ... bears? And go.”