Freedom TM

followed by a large volume of gunfire erupting from the western edge of town. It sounded like a couple hundred people were involved in an intense firefight—an odd assemblage of large- and small-caliber weapons crackling like green pine in a fire. The sounds of women and children screaming among the refugees and the shadows of dozens of people racing past the open motel room doorway gave a sense of rising panic.
    OohRah rushed to the doorway and shouted, “Get out of the street! Get out of the street! Come in here!”
    He ushered a dozen people inside, men, women, and children—people of all ages. Carrying backpacks and suitcases.
    One woman kept screaming at Ross, “What’s going on? What’s going on?” These people weren’t darknet operatives, so they appeared to have no idea what was happening.
    OohRah grabbed the woman by the shoulders. “Get ahold of yourself. We’re going to get you to a storm shelter.”
    One of the other refugees pulled her back into the group, where she quickly broke down sobbing.
    “Let’s get these folks to the middle school.”
    Ross was already busy flipping through an array of D-Spacestreet cameras in his HUD view. Most of the town’s public cameras were still functioning. They showed a series of buildings ablaze and bodies, or parts of them, in the streets. People were rushing around retrieving wounded. Others were firing out toward the edge of town at attackers Ross knew must be there. “Looks like the route to the middle school is still clear. Here …” He slid the prepared camera layer over to OohRah.
    “Thanks. So we’ve still got network power, anyway.”
    Ross nodded. “The bank was hit, but they’ve got ultrawideband transmitters and fuel cells in the vault. It’s pretty thick concrete.”
    OohRah was already looking out the doorway and motioning people to follow. “Let’s go, folks! Follow me!”
    A dozen frightened people ran after him. Ross brought up the rear, sprinting beneath the porch roof along a line of motel room doors. Some of the doors were open, but he didn’t see anyone inside the rooms. Another chopper zipped overhead startlingly low and fast, guns
braapping
down the street. Empty shell casings rained down in a jingling cascade of brass that bounced in all directions.
    Ross looked out at the call-outs ahead of him. He could see lots of names he didn’t recognize, and he heard frantic voices over the comm lines.
    [Barkely_A]: We’ve got wounded over here! We don’t have anything to stop these armored cars.
    [Creasy]: Jack, about two dozen infantry coming through Courtney’s field.
    [BullMoose]: Near the propane yard?
    [Creasy]: Ten-four.
    Ross reached up and dialed down the volume on nearby chatter not directed to him. OohRah brought the civilians down an alley behind Main Street. It was cluttered with Dumpsters, pallets, and cars that had been idled by gas prices. As they crossed to the next block, they saw a car burning in the middle of Main Street. The car’s side and fenders were riddled with bullet or shrapnel holes.The silhouette of a person was still sitting in the front seat, enveloped in fire. Someone with the call-out
DoctorSocks
raced past the flames, and then headed off into the night.
    Another huge explosion ripped the dawn air, and Ross turned to see what he suspected was the propane yard going up in a roiling fireball a couple hundred yards away. Metal and wood debris spun into the air in a wide arc. Ross ducked around behind the nearest building.
    “Up ahead!”
    The sheriff brought them across the street to the arched granite-and-brick entryway of the Eisenhower Middle School. Mercifully, the steps led down to a cellar door lined with sandbags and away from prowling choppers.
    Ross stopped in the entryway and let the others go in. He stood next to farmers with assault rifles as they watched the skies.
    One of the other volunteers, a thirtyish, heavyset operative named
Farmster
in a Halperin Seed hat, pointed to Ross and grabbed a scoped AR-15 rifle from a table just inside the doorway. “You know how to use this?”
    “I’m better with an AK.”
    “An
AK
?”
    Ross shrugged. “Russian army.”
    That brought out gales of laughter amid the distant gunfire.
    “Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d be handing a gun to a Ruskie to shoot up the town with.”
    The guy fished through the pile of weapons and came up with a scuffed AK-47. He also grabbed a satchel into which he stuffed several thirty-round clips.