Gray Panthers: Dixie by David Guenther Page B

gun.
    “Let’s fire it up!” Davis let loose with a three-second burst, and Jefferson followed with one of his own. Down range they saw Semmes raise his arm and make a fist with his thumb sticking up.
    The noise from the box had been silenced, perforated with a hundred bullets. Semmes got to his feet and looked at his team.
    “Everyone look out for traps,” he cautioned. Why the hell did they leave a trap like that? What was the point? His questions were answered as the smell from the city began to slog toward them, stronger by the minute. A pair of little girls, filthy and bruised, walked toward the team. Neither said a word, seeming to wobble as they walked.
    One of the scouts ran over to them and dropped to her knee to give the little girls a hug. They both put their arms around her and began to chew her face and neck, the only parts of her that were exposed. The team stood in shock as the little girls got up and proceeded toward them and even more wobblers came around the corner. In no time at all, the entire road was filled from one side of the street to the other.
    “Lieutenant, what do we do?” the scout to Semmes’s left hollered out as the wobblers closed the distance. Semmes continued to stare at his dead scout, frozen with indecision. He had recognized one of the little girls from his daughter’s church kindergarten class. The other wobblers were slowly approaching him, though he seemed oblivious to them. They were almost touching the lieutenant when the scout to his left raised his carbine and fired on full automatic, knocking down three rows of wobblers and drawing them all to him. He quickly reloaded and prepared to fire into the mob again when the first wobbler, his young pregnant wife, reached him. “Nooo!” barely escaped from the scout’s lips as the mob fell upon him. His last sight was his wife’s face coming to his before tearing open his throat.
    “Fall back, goddamnsonofabitchmotherfucker, fall back!” Scotty yelled as he grabbed the lieutenant by the collar. “Run, you son of a bitch, or I’ll leave you here!” Scotty shouted into Semmes’s ear as the rest of the team withdrew, keeping their distance from the slow wobblers.
    Life came back into Semmes’s eyes as he reluctantly turned and retreated. His two scouts lay in the road, the wobblers stumbling over them. Tears began to stream down his face as he ran to join the others. The gunners now had a clear field of fire and opened up, the sound deafening as they blew holes in the crowd.
    Semmes raised his arms over his head and signaled to cease firing. He turned to see the carnage brought down on what had once been friends and family, then turned around again and ran toward his surviving scouts.
    “We’re outta here, now! Rally on the hill.” Everyone climbed into the vehicles and tires spun beneath them in their haste to leave the nightmare behind.
    Once back on the hill, Scotty could only stand in mute witness as the scouts came together in a group hug and began to sob softly among themselves. Sam hugged Scotty, burying her head into his chest as she too openly wept for the carnage she had just seen.
    “What the hell was that?” she cried into Scotty’s chest. “Is it the apocalypse?”
    “No, it’s the Libra. They are going to pay!” he said softly as he stroked her hair, holding her tightly to him, trying to make her feel safe. Looking up, he saw that the scouts were breaking up their group hug. He let Sam go and faced the scouts.
    “Revenge! Revenge for New Mississippi. Revenge! Revenge for Dixie!” Scotty shouted as loud as he could.
    “Revenge!” the scouts began to chant as they drew closer to him.
    “Those were your friends, your families, your neighbors, our comrades. In their deaths they cry out, ‘Revenge!’ The Libra are responsible, and we will have our revenge. Lieutenant Semmes, get on the radio and let fleet know what happened so they don’t come down into this mess,” Scotty ordered, deciding that