Free Copperheads - 12 by Joe Nobody

angel? Have I already passed to the other side?”
    “And why don’t they like you?”
    The wounded fellow actually tried a shrug but regretted it. Sucking a chest full of air, he winced from the pain. “Why? I’m not sure. I don’t think they like any strangers.”
    “Why did you attack the convoy of trucks?” Terri pressed.
    For the first time, the fellow on the ground seemed to be taking her seriously, his eyes boring into Terri with an intense focus. “We did not shoot up the trucks! They were our customers. We sold them the food.”
    Terri kept her expression neutral, reacting with no more than a tilt of her head. “So did the villagers ambush the trucks?” she asked, nodding in the direction of the distant gunfire.
    Again, his movement caused the stranger a gasp of pain. “No,” he finally managed as Butter’s hands moved quickly trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from the wound. “They are not capable of such a thing,” he continued with a dismissive tone.
    Terri wasn’t sure why, but she believed him. “Then who murdered those men on the dam?”
    Before he could answer, Kevin’s voice sounded with urgency, “Sir! I’ve got movement … a third party … at least 20 men. It looks like the village is sending reinforcements.”
    Bishop’s head snapped around, his gaze moving in the direction where Kevin’s sniper rifle pointed. Again, the Texan took control of the big optic, scanning a larger group of very old and very young men, all carrying an assortment of ragtag weapons. It reminded him of pictures of the German Army toward the end of WWII when all of that nation’s prime manpower had been consumed – the village was scraping the bottom of the barrel. It didn’t matter, however. A rusty shotgun was as deadly as a well-oiled blaster. “Shit, we’re going to get caught in the middle.”
    The team’s leader then turned to watch Butter work. “Can he be moved?”
    The big man didn’t speak, instead flashing a look that said, “No. He’s not going to make it much longer anyway.”
    Terri caught it as well, moving closer to the dying man’s face and demanding his attention. “So who attacked the truckers?”
    “Qu … Quay,” sounded a weak gasp.
    “Who?” Terri asked.
    There wasn’t any answer. The light had left the man’s eyes.
    “He’s gone,” Butter announced, shaking his head and then moving to repack his medical gear.
    “Damn it,” Terri hissed. “Who are the Quays?”
    “Vigilantes,” Bishop responded, his eyes scanning the perimeter. “That’s what one of the guys on the boat said.”
    “I know that,” Terri replied. “But who are they? Where are they?”
    Her husband didn’t answer, his head pivoting between the gunfight at the boat and the approaching men from the village. “We have to move.”
    “No shit,” Grim snapped. “This place is getting crowded. Which way, boss?”
    Bishop was about to announce his decision when the distant gunfire abruptly stopped. Every Alliance ear focused toward the shore, waiting and hoping for another round to ignite the next phase of the battle. Nothing but the light morning breeze reached their ears.
    Grim and Bishop exchanged knowing looks. “This ain’t good,” the ex-contractor warned.
    “No kidding,” the Texan concurred.
    “What?” Terri asked, not understanding.
    “One side or the other has won,” her husband explained. “If it was our dead friend’s compadres, they’re going to come looking for him. If his enemies claimed victory, they’re going to come looking for him. Either way, we’re in the wrong place at a very bad time.”
    “East,” Bishop then announced. “Grim, take point. Same formation we used on the way in. We’ll go east for a mile or two and then cut north for Texas.”
    “Roger that,” Grim said, hefting his pack and weapon. “Give me five minutes’ head start. I assume you want to cover some ground until we’re clear of the local festivities.”
    Bishop nodded, “Yup.