Freedom TM

don’t care about losing the farm. You can always rebuild buildings, but …”
    Ross tapped him. “If you need to go back and be with them, I’ll understand.” Ross looked to the sheriff.
    The sheriff nodded.
    Fossen shook his head. “No. If we just hold out, we might still have a chance. Look at the darknet feeds. My daughter says they’regoing haywire. These attacks here in the Midwest are a threat to the whole network. I’ll bet no single thing has ever been upvoted this high.” He looked to Ross. “The world is watching what happens here.”
    The sheriff shrugged. “So what? So what if everyone
cares
? What does that do for us? The situation we’re in isn’t going to be solved by angry posts and best fucking wishes.
Public outrage
has never stopped these bastards.”
    Fossen looked determined. “Jon, we’re just second-level. What can a twelfth-level Rogue do that could help us?”
    Jon cleared his throat. “I can get into and out of places and networks without being detected, but in this type of situation …”
    There was suddenly a deafening explosion that broke the last of the windows along Main Street.
    They all ducked down, but peered over the rim of the memorial to watch the far end of the street. An M1117 armored vehicle flanked by twenty or thirty well-equipped soldiers on foot suddenly rounded the corner. The ASV swiveled its top turret and fired grenades into the upper-story windows. The walls and windows erupted with flames and flying debris.
    A camera crew in helmets and body armor rounded the corner as well, filming the action as soldiers fired grenade launchers into the doors of shops on either side and raced through the openings while their comrades raked the walls and streets with gunfire.
    Tracer bullets whined past and Ross and the others ducked down as stone fragments rained down on them. Metal whined into the sky.
    “Jesus Christ!”
    “I see the propaganda unit is here to film our saviors in action.”
    Fossen crawled on his belly to look down the side street. “They’re coming down the next block, too.”
    There were more explosions in the buildings down the street.Ross snuck a quick glance to see the ASV turret and its coaxial machine gun focused in their direction. The rest of the soldiers were nowhere in sight.
    The sheriff stuffed newly reloaded clips into pouches on his web harness. “These fuckers seem to know what they’re doing. They’re following the number-one rule of street fighting.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Stay out of the goddamned street. They’re blasting through walls and destroying the buildings behind them as they go.”
    Suddenly the ASV rolled forward, firing indiscriminately. Then a colossally loud explosion echoed across the town and they could hear masonry walls collapsing and wood snapping as a whole building avalanched into the street. The ASV’s diesel engine was still advancing.
    The sheriff clenched his gloved fist. “Fuck it. We’ve got to do something. We can’t just lay here.”
    Ross could now see more troops coming in from the next block as he stole a glance over the Vietnam memorial Fossen was hiding behind. “Heads down, Hank. About twenty more and an ASV on that side.”
    “Time to fight.” The sheriff crawled over toward Fossen. “Let’s hit the second group while they cross the street.” He took a breath. “Ready?”
    Ross nodded.
    Fossen nodded as well.
    “On three. Two. One …”
    They leaned around and over the edges of the solid-rock memorial and opened fire at a squad of mercenaries running across the street about a hundred meters away.
    Ross fired his AK in semi-auto mode trying to focus on a line of men dressed in black body armor and tactical gear. The soldiers immediately scattered and hit the deck. At over a footballfield away, it was hard to tell if any of them got hit or just dove for cover.
    But moments after they opened fire, the turret of the ASV escorting them swiveled in their direction and opened up with a .50-caliber machine gun.
    All three of them ducked down and hugged the ground as powerful, high-velocity rounds slammed into the back of the stone memorial, eating away at the far side. Ross felt the sting of stone chips like needles on his exposed skin.
    Then loud explosions erupted on the far side of the larger, World War II memorial next to them—grenades impacting with deafening concussion. Then stopped just as abruptly.
    The sheriff crawled to the far side of the green, pulling a metal