Debauchery Falls Ch. 10

It didn't matter. Someone was screaming it for him. "Ambush! Retreat! Retreeeeeeat!!!"

His plan had gone to shit, and it was about to get worse.

***

Jessup picked his shots and dropped two more of them before he heard the deep resonant voice echo down the street. "Ambush! Retreat! Retreeeeeeeeat!!!" The man was ordering the others.

So they'd figured it out, had they? Surviving cultists, and scruffy escaped cons turned and fled from the fight-- the ones that could get up, anyway. They ran for their lives. Both Halley and Jessup's weapons firing at the ones who were too slow.

Jessup smiled to himself. Someone else was waiting patiently for this moment.

The cultists only made it a few dozen paces before new gun shots joined the fight from behind them-- the direction that they were trying to retreat to. From a rooftop, three houses down, Brubaker had managed to work his way around the hoard, and secure himself a vantage point over the battle field. He'd set up on the sloping roof of a two story cottage. Now he was all too happy to cut off their retreat and trap them in the middle of himself, Halley, and Jessup.

Brubaker was calmly grinning as he cut them down from an elevated location.

The cultists and cons turned and turned, without a clue where to go. The 'L' shaped ambush had worked, and they were trapped in the middle of three very deadly points.

By the time their ranks had fallen into complete chaos, Jessup was feeling the song. The shots from his rifle matched the pounding of the drums. He found himself shamefully singing along as he placed his shots, moving and shooting, moving and shooting.

Men screamed as their numbers dwindled fast.

From elsewhere, just beyond the ambush, someone else was screaming his own frustration and vengeful bloodlust.

Abernathy was furious.

***

Quinn smashed out a window with the butt of his shotgun. He and Galloway helped Andrea climb through.

Things were no less chaotic once they were outside. A pit of burning wreckage marked where a house had once stood. Gunshots further on, in between the blare of music. Men were running in the street, shooting, and screaming.

Quinn, Galloway, and Andrea collected themselves in the shadows for a moment. Nobody was hurt.

"We have to get my dad and my sister," Andrea was determined.

"We will," Galloway promised. She zipped up her combat vest-- her only article of clothing from the waist up. It did little to hide her bare arms and sides of her large breasts. She was thankful she'd been able to retrieve her boots and jeans on top of her gear. It'd be a bitch to fight bare footed and naked.

Quinn had multiple weapons slung over his shoulder. He'd collected them from the men he'd killed inside, and was hauling them like a pack-mule. It would be their lifeline if they got into another fight.

Another loud cacophony of gunshots erupted down the street.

"Who's that?" Andrea asked.

Quinn and Galloway regarded each other. "Halley. C'mon, if we hurry, we can catch up to them." They set off running, keeping to the shadowy wooded backyards of the houses and hunting cabins.

"What about Graver?" Quinn asked. The Captain's appearance in their rescue from the bar had been unexpected, but it hadn't been a complete surprise. That guy was everywhere.

Galloway glanced around. They'd been separated during the fire at the bar. "If he made it out, he's probably headed to the same place we are. We'll meet him there!" She said. And the three of them raced into the night.

***

Captain Graver certainly heard the gunfight, but he had other problems. It was completely on the other side of the direction that he needed to go, and he was completely alone.

His priority was to Lucy. As much as he wanted to jump into the fray with his men, he still had a civilian girl that he was responsible for. He set off at a sprint for the meeting place.

Halley's distraction hadn't been expected, but it had been invaluable. It worked better than anything he could have come up with, and the timing had been perfect. Without the panic it had created, Graver doubted he would have won that fight. And Lucy had done exactly what he'd asked. She'd read the situation and she'd hit the generator. He had called it-- the girl was tougher than she thought.

He found her waiting in the garage, the Jeep running and ready to go.

"I'm glad you're safe! Is everyone okay?" She said when he jumped into the passenger seat.

"You did perfect, kid! Perfect. They got away. Gun it!"

Lucy pulled out into the street and hit the accelerator. She could hear the gunfight in the distance. "Are we going to help them?"

"No," Graver shook his head. "Keep going. Make for the bridge."

Lucy looked at him, quizzical. "But I thought--"

"We've done everything we could alone. Men are dying. It's high time we get some help."

Lucy looked momentarily disappointed. "I still think we should help."

"Since when did you turn into a badass?" Graver mused.

"Since a hot stud fucked my brains out," Lucy replied.

"We *will* help," Graver promised. "But we need backup. Then we'll give these fuckers a real war."

The Jeep sped into the night.

***

By the time the ambush was winding itself down, Jessup's brain was rattling in his skull. He could only shoot a rifle for so long without ear protection before his head hurt and his ears were ringing.

He was knelt behind a tree, finishing off the last of an especially ugly man with facial tattoos, who was hobbling away from the fight, when he felt a tap at his shoulder that made him nearly scream.

"Relax, cowboy. It's me," Halley said. She was inspecting her pistol. Smoke was wafting from the battle. Jessup had to catch his breath. He resisted the urge to kiss her right then and there. He was amped up. He felt invincible.

That was when the first of the flaming bottles volleyed high overhead.

"Oh fuck," Jessup groaned as they arched. Halley and Jessup scattered as the molotovs exploded at their heels. Seconds later, gunfire erupted from the trees. The cultists had regrouped and were coming back at them harder than before.

It was time to go.

A bottle landed on the rooftop near Brubaker. The older man swore, and half scampered, half slid down the steep incline of the roof. He hit the porch overhang, rolled clumsily, and fell into the lawn in an ungraceful 'oof'.

His knee buckled and pain shot up his leg. He hadn't landed right, and he knew it. When he came up and started to run, he winced against the agony.

They came out of the shadows around the house, leveling their rifles at him. Cultists.

Brubaker ground his teeth and screamed against the pain, running for cover, feeling the bones of his knee grinding the whole way. He was moving too slow. He wasn't going to make it.

The gun shots went off just as he came to the nearest stand of trees, and suddenly he was being tackled to the ground.

The bullets peppered the trunk above his head.

"I got ya," Jessup grabbed Brubaker by the drag handle of his tact vest, and hauled the older officer to his feet.

More gunfire erupted behind them as the cultists sent another volley their way. Jessup shoved Brubaker hard. "Go! Go!" He shouted. Halley met them, and grabbed Brubaker by the other arm. Together, the three of them fled into the shadows of the woods.

In seconds, they'd slipped away into the night. But they didn't stop running-- darting through trees, around houses, and into backyards. They couldn't be sure if they were being followed or not. They kept their arms hooked around the limping Brubaker until they felt safe enough to glance over their shoulders.

"I think we lost them," Halley said, finally.

That was when Jessup began to stumble. He dropped to his knees in front of a nearby garage and couldn't seem to pick himself back up. He was wheezing-- trying to use his rifle like a crutch to stand. Oh shit. Something was wrong.

Halley reached for his back and her hand came away slick with blood. Her heart dropped. "Get him inside," she called out to Brubaker. The two grabbed the rookie and hauled him into the garage, Brubaker brought the door down behind them as Halley laid Jessup on the concrete.

"Where's he been shot?" Brubaker asked, frantic with worry.

Jessup winced and coughed, gesturing to his back. They rolled him over and peeled off his tact vest. It had done very little to stop the rifle rounds. Bullets had peppered his skin in multiple places. He'd taken them when he'd gone back to save Brubaker.

The sight alone was enough to fill them all with despair.

"Kid," Brubaker groaned, "that was a stupid thing to do. I'm old. You're young, got your whole life ahead. I'm old." He was sick with guilt, and was almost chanting it as a way of belittling himself for what had just happened.

"We're a team," Jessup replied, his cheek on the concrete floor. He was already beginning to sound weak and distant. "Are you guys alright?"

"Yes, we're fine," Brubaker said. "You shouldn't have fuckin' done that, man."

Halley was knelt beside him, trying to stay calm, trying to stay practical. But more and more, her composure was slipping away with Jessup's life. She was searching for a way to stop the bleeding, but one glance at Jessup's back, and she knew it was hopeless. They all did. No field dressing or first aid kit was going to fix this.

"It's okay," Jessup mumbled as though he was drunk and starting to doze off. "Can you roll me over?"

Halley truthfully didn't want to. Enough people had died in her arms in her life. She didn't need some 20 year old doing it too.

"This floor smells like piss," Jessup said. Streamers of blood were in his spit as he spoke.

They rolled him over.

"Jessup, you noble asshole," Halley said, her voice catching in her throat. His eyes were starting to glaze.

"It was for both of you," he mumbled, closing his eyes for a second, then opening them. His gaze was wandering further and further away. "You've got a wedding to go to," he smiled at the image in his mind. "I bet you'll look amazing."

She took a deep shaking breath, grabbing his hand and squeezing. He squeezed softly back.

"Just don't forget about me, okay?" He looked at her.

Halley didn't realize that she was crying until the tears ran off of her chin. "I won't. I promise."

They didn't try to lie to Jessup. He knew he was dying. He handed Halley his rifle with a trembling hand. She took it. "Take the rest of my gear when I'm gone," he said.

They nodded.

"Thank you," Halley said softly.

"No," Jessup whispered. "Thank *you*." He smiled at the memory of them kissing feverishly back in the tavern.

He shut his eyes. Halley leaned her face over and gently kissed Jessup's lips. Her hair fell across his face. Brubaker looked away. This kid had a massive crush on her. He had made the ultimate sacrifice to protect his teammates and these were his last moments on earth. Let him just shut his eyes and pretend for a few more moments.

She caressed the side of his face as she kissed him, then she felt him go limp. He was gone a second later. The smile on his lips fading away into a slack mouth.

They tried to be as respectful about it as they could. But they needed to hurry. They stripped Jessup of his equipment, his ammo, and his weapons. Brubaker was crying as he helped Halley into the vest. Hell, Halley was crying too.

They glanced back one last time at their fallen man. Brubaker gave a little salute, then they were heading back out into the nightmare.

***

The gunfight had moved off to the north, then it died down entirely.

Galloway, Quinn, and Andrea followed it at a trot for a ways, before deciding to break off. They'd missed the party.

"Where to now?" Quinn asked, his shotgun gripped tightly in his meaty hands. The driving rain battering his face.

Galloway thought for a second before pointing to the north east. "The schoolhouse." The place where Emily Tanner and her husband and neighbors had made their last stand against the escaped criminals. Although they'd ultimately lost the fight, it was fortified well enough with barricades, and better than nothing. They could regroup there to come up with a plan. Maybe even hold the line against Abernathy's weakened forces.

On the way, they'd nearly collided with Halley and Brubaker. The pair emerged from between houses. They were panting, looking visibly startled to run into each other like this. They were clutching rifles. Brubaker was limping badly.

There was an immense sense of relief as they came together. "Good God, I'm glad you guys are still alive," Galloway said, throwing her arms around Halley. "We thought you were dead."

Halley's face looked strained. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Regardless, she took a moment to appraise Galloway... or rather her attire. She was in a state of undress-- usual jeans and boots from the waist down. But from the waist up was only her tactical vest, half unzipped and sporting her ample cleavage. No shirt, no bra. A red lace thong hung around her neck like a bandito's scarf.

A sparkle of amusement flickered across Halley's strained features. "I know I'm a pretty easy-going boss... and I don't really give you shit if you don't wear the conventional BDU's like the rest of the team. But if this is how you're going to start showing up for work, I'm going to start enforcing a dress code."

"Fuck you, Hellfire," Galloway dismissed her.

Halley regarded Andrea. The girl was disheveled, in her rebellious pleated skirt, and mesh shirt. But she at least shared Halley's taste in Chuck Taylors, so she had that going for her. And she wore an expression that could only be described as murderous resolve.

"This is Andrea," Galloway introduced the girl.

Halley cocked an eyebrow. "Is she cool?"

"She's very cool," Galloway vouched for her.

They each took hold of Brubaker to help him hobble. Along the way they caught each other up on the events of the night.

"So these fucks still have three of our guys, and Andrea's father and sister." Galloway said.

Halley nodded. "We'll go get them, but for now, we've got our own problems to contend with."

They grunted as they headed up the driveway to the schoolhouse. None of them liked the idea of making a last stand, but they knew that Abernathy wasn't going to retreat to lick his wounds. He was going to come at them with everything he had left. And sooner or later, he'd find them.

They were running on borrowed time if they were to repair the barricades. They needed to hurry, because the weight of the world was going to be coming down on them soon enough.

*** TO BE CONTINUED...***