United We Stand (Black Tide Rising Anthologies Book 4) by John Ringo

Author:John Ringo [Ringo, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2024-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

Let Freedom Ring

GRIFFIN BARBER

“Well, there went the neighborhood,” Mao whispered as another of the Militia assholes popped into view about five hundred meters off.

“Nah, Stockton was always shit,” James muttered, still tracking the first of the men to appear in his scope. He looked closer, saw the red bandana the lead man wore tied across the left bicep. He didn’t need a closer look to know the red bandanas would have a thick silver thunderbolt marked on them. Little more than a big, militarized gang with delusions of grandeur, the Delta Free State Militia was a real threat to the smaller, less aggressive polities eking out an existence on the coast of Northern California. His Rangers had investigated the aftermath of one of the Delta Free State’s raids a few months back. That shit show had proven the rumors of how the Militia had survived the Fall were true: ruthless amorality and lots of guns could force people to see things your way, at least in the short term.

“Two more,” Mao said. “Ten, then fifteen meters behind the second. All armed with long guns.”

“Copy,” James said, cheek to his rifle as he maintained his watch. The first guy dipped out of view, popped back up with something in his hand. The other men closed up on the first, who showed it to them. They all looked around, started to fan out and move to the northwest. They weren’t cautious of being attacked so much as alert to what was at their feet.

James gave mental shake of his head. With a lack of new infected to add to their ranks, exposure to wind and weather, a lack of easily accessible prey, and other diseases, the infected population had fallen off a cliff in the last year or so. Still, it wasn’t so safe you could make a lot of noise without attracting attention from surviving pockets of the infected, especially around areas of freshwater and the population centers that made for easy living for the infected, and Stockton had both. James’s team of Rangers were at the extreme northeast end of their planned scouting mission along the San Joaquin River and its sloughs. Any further upstream and the waterways were too controlled by pre-Fall engineering projects or too exposed to the urban centers where who knew what delights awaited an explorer.

James and the team watched for a few more minutes, making sure the Militia weren’t going to change course. Once assured the Militia folks weren’t going to come cross the Pixley Slough to get at them, James lifted his head from the sight and motioned for the others to pull out.

His small team rallied up a few minutes later in a shallow depression screened by a small wood sprouting from the soggy bottomland of the island they occupied. Just off the White Slough on a stretch of river called the Pixley Slough, the island had a good view of what James’s map told him was the Trinity Parkway bridge.

Mao kept an eye out in the direction the Militia folks had gone.

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