The Winter Tyrant-Chapter 38: Winter Wraiths

Dean and the boys moved through the snow as if they were some kind of winter spirits. They weren’t sprinting, they were slow, but smooth. Their snowshoes allowed them to effortlessly walk across the snow’s surface.

Where others would dredge, they floated, each step being covered up instantly by the storm behind their movements.

It was almost unfair the level of advantage they had. Whether it was the ability to see clearly in the darkness, and immediately pick up on thermal signatures of living figures nearby.

Or how well their camouflage allowed them to mask themselves in the background. The more Dean and the boys skulked through the base, the more disappointed Dean was in the level of threat they faced.

Zero discipline, irregular patrols, some of which abandoning their posts entirely to seek the warmth of a nearby fire.

And the conversation that they had clearly pointed to conflict with the chain of command. But Dean absolutely could not weaponize that at the moment.

He didn’t get distracted, and he silently motioned with his fingers where the boys should deploy and how.

It did not take them long to find where the supplies were kept. And Dean was almost appalled at how the enemy lumped everything together in a few nearby tents. Ammo, fuel, food, water, medical supplies.

Dean motioned towards the boys to fill their rucks with medical supplies first and ammunition second. They grabbed what little they could carry, and then dean pulled out a homemade incendiary device.

The boys looked at it, confused etched on the lines of their balaclavas. Dean simply smirked and nodded at them.

"Molotov cocktail, made the traditional Finnish way. No need to light, the strike anywhere matches will do the job for you. Just stand back and watch."

Dean handed a few Molotovs to each of the boys, pointing out the targets they should each attack. And then, in unison, they threw the bottles at the tents. Shattering upon impact and igniting the fuel mix inside, the Molotovs flames roared to life, consuming everything in their path.

Dean didn’t wait. He swiftly led the boys away from the flames. Such a fierce fire was bound to attract the attention of the raiders, especially with the sound of ammunition cooking off in the background.

And as they hid in the background, watching the half-intoxicated raiders stumble into panic. While the camp surged toward the flames, the far side fell eerily empty.

Dean led them to the edge of camp. Covertly stalking between the tents and the snow, they instinctively ducked inside a tent as more raiders ran past them towards the flame.

The tent was warm and sealed off from the atmosphere. And once inside, Dean understood why. This was the mobile garage that the raiders had prepared for their snowmobiles.

Dean looked over at the vehicles, dumbfounded by the luck they had at this moment ,and then looked over at the boys, sizing them up with his gaze.

"Do any of you know how to drive one of these things?"

Daniel and one other boy named Mark raised their hands silently. It wasn’t surprising to Dean that suburban boys in the Pacific Northwest knew how to drive snowmobiles.

He had grown up snowboarding and off-roading during his winter breaks as well. He didn’t need to hesitate, Dean inspected the fuel gauges to ensure the snowmobiles were ready for action and sighed in relief upon confirmation.

"Alright, here’s the plan... Daniel, Mark, and I will drive. I need everyone else to mount up on the rear seat and provide suppressive fire. You don’t need to hit your marks, just keep the enemies’ heads down, and their aim poor. The moment we activate these things everyone in the camp is going to know that this wasn’t an accident and are going to try to pursue and encircle us. We can’t let that happen."

The boys didn’t say a word, they silently assumed their positions, while Dean pulled the kill switch tethers from the leftover machines.

It was not a permanent disable, but it temporarily rendered the vehicles inoperable and was not easy to diagnose. By storing them in his packs, and running off, he could come back at a later date when this war was over, and instantly restore the vehicles to their proper use, allowing them to effectively boost their own mobility.

Once he was done, Dean unzipped the entrance to the tent and hopped on his own bike, the boy behind him aimed his rifle at the steady, while Dean kick-started his engine.

"Move, move, move!"

He sped off, with Daniel and Todd behind him, they were separate enough that missed gunfire would not accidentally strike any of them, but still close enough to coordinate through the storm.

It wasn’t until the roar of the engines could be heard over the cooking off of their ammunition storage that the raiders realized this hadn’t been a freak accident, but an act of intentional sabotage.

One of them even cried out and raised his gun, panic firing into the distance from the hip.

"Over there! We’re under attack! They’re getting away!"

Bullets wildly missed their mark, but the crack of gunfire was enough to keep Dean’s head down, and the boys as they sped off into the distance.

The boys sitting on the back of the snowmobiles did not hesitate to return fire as was commanded of them, suppressing their pursuers before they could even make their way to the tent where the disabled snowmobiles lay in wait for them.

They vanished into the darkness of the night and the blizzard which consumed it. Leaving the raiders effectively without food, clean water, medical supplies, and ammunition to the continue the fight.

Dean had no doubt that after a move like this, and a large chunk of their means of transportation effectively disabled. The raiders would have no choice but to stage another reckless assault, lest they be forced to freeze and starve in the snow.

There was no doubt about it in his mind... So long as they could withstand the next attack, Dean and all of Paradise Falls had won the first contact war.