The night of the final and ultimate assault against the Homeless had arrived.
Weeks of planning. Everyone had played a part. Hardly anyone had kept silent or remained idle. It was, she felt, a demonstration of the possible combined power of the Domain - when properly directed and stimulated and...guided. True to their role the Sheriff and his Deputies had come to the fore. But they were not alone or singular in effort.
Ideas and notions on solutions to the deadly problem at hand had varied from the absurd to the practical. Drenching the camp in VX gas? Yep, that had come up. Somehow couldn't we poison the local water supply? Martha recalled the stunned silence at that suggestion. Attaching explosives to rats and unleashing the unwitting rodents into the...no, the thought was too remarkable to contemplate and complete. Hadn't someone mentioned badgers at one point?
Other, more reasonable and achievable, ideas had been arrived at. Some where even in evidence as she watched.
Certainly Martha mused, we have done what we could to encourage and stimulate a successful and combined all-arms operation.
Her office at the Elysium had been the temporary planning HQ - it was now swamped under PDF printouts of planning application forms, local authority ordnance and zoning maps and several very busy flip-charts recording brainstorming sessions. Annotated maps and equally heavily annotated printouts from Google Earth were pinned to her office walls. Newspapers cuttings were posted neatly to the flip-charts. Tables of logistics and telephone numbers of key local contractors and city personnel and mortal allies were all there too...and on speed dial.
Fire defences had been enhanced at the Elysia. The ghouls were put on alert. Vigilance was encouraged. The need for the Decoy Court was not, in the end, put into practice, but she'd rehearsed the plan all the same, and put it away - for a rainy day.
Tonight, all that theory and preparation was to be put into practice.
She knew Rule One well enough: no plan survives contact with the enemy.
Weeks of planning - and still, as always, it came down - eventually - to raw firepower and the uneven justice present in fangs and claws.
Martha had propped her bicycle against the wall of the highway. Using a pair of Army surplus binoculars, Martha exploited the elevated position of the pedestrian walkway on the bypass to watch the beginnings of the operation - and an ample demonstration, not that any further evidence of are required in the annals of combat, of Clausewitz's notion.
Surely someone had thought to cover the retreat of the Reverend? They had all stood around and studied the plans of the area. They had forecast the movement of the bulldozers...anticipated the bus routes to ship away the innocents - and their snarling dogs - from the atrocity about to unfold. Soup kitchens were on hand. Local newspapers and radio stations now had suitable Press Releases.
Caesar, she noted, always advocated leaving the enemy the Golden Bridge: an avenue of escape...thereby preventing militarily costly costly last stands.
She couldn't shake off the ghastly feeling she was watching some modern day clash of cultures. Was this, she wondered, Custer's Last Stand...or Wounded Knee? She dare not even contemplate the rest of the analogy.
Putting her binoculars away into her satchel, and feeling slightly unwell, Martha watched the ramshackle RV make it's hasty getaway attempt. They aren't brave: but they have at least shown enough sense to take the inadvertent Golden Bridge.
Oh...what if they have taken Jill and Mr Hartman with them? Hostages...oh...
The pursuit was underway. Martha watched the stalwart infantry do their heavy work. Maybe I could intercept the RV...find a way to head it off?
Getting her pushbike ready, Martha decided she had best go down there now and see what could be salvaged...even if she couldn't join the pursuit in time, or even head the RV off...maybe sacrifice the bicycle...drop it from the bypass onto the RV...oh, the timing...anyway: there would be documents to salvage...items to capture and study and - as ever, be the wounded and frightened to tend to.
Nails - so many get overlooked.
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