A Dance of Two Worlds

A Shot of Fate

Chapter Eighteen

A Shot of Fate

One bullet, at the right time, at the right target, can eclipse a thousand canons

Elisium

The Fifth Loop, Year 491, 5th February (5L/491/2/5)

"Remember son, you are here to just observe. Stay away from the action." George repeated the same thing for the umpteenth time.

Moses, alongside Nathan and George, was hiding behind thick bushes on a small hillock. He had an unobstructed view of Clovefield, a village on the looter's hit list.

Looters had attacked Clovefield five days ago, beaten up its residents to gain information about the killers of Arthur, and plundered their houses. Most residents of Clovefield knew the looters would return to torture them so they had already left for the Refuge.

For David's Army, the location of this village, surrounded by thick bushes, small hillocks, and only one access road, made it the ideal place for an ambush. If that single exit was blocked, the looters would be trapped.

David's army had to camp for a week in Clovefield before enemies came out of their burrows for the second round of plundering. Enemy vehicles approach the road towards Clovefield just around noon. There were twelve armored vehicles, they generally used six vehicles for such raids but after Arthur's assassination looters had doubled the strength of the raiding parties.

Moses noticed that George was fidgeting with his gun and biting his lips.

He's got the numbers, the element of surprise, the Transitioner, and still he's nervous.

Come on, he's actually fighting a battle for the first time.

By the way, when'll you get a chance to fight?

Moses had to admit that despite this being George's first battle he had the brains for war. He had meticulously planned this ambush. He evacuated the village to keep civilians out of harm's way, but he also asked them to leave behind some supplies and livestock. The bait. The looters hiding behind their armored trucks were no good. He had to drag them into the open to shoot them down.

Clovefield looked like a ghost town when Commander Roger's truck entered the village. This was nothing new, most villagers abandoned their settlements in fear of persecution.

Roger got out of his truck and looked around. "Looks like these worms left in too much of a hurry. Load this livestock in trucks, finally, we will have some fresh juicy meat instead of the dried garbage we have to eat. A barbecue night. Search the houses for anything useful."

Plundering was a regular feature of these raids. Empty villages were a blessing. No bickering or crying, just looting. The looters swiftly began ransacking the houses. Some of them removed the protective vests around their chests to beat the heat. A fatal mistake.

George's bait had worked. His prey had dropped their guards. Now it was time to hunt.

A few minutes into the raid, the looters heard simultaneous loud bangs. Some of them saw a wound open up in their bodies, felt a searing pain, a burning sensation—and boom. They were blown to pieces.

Roger immediately sprung into action. "Take cover, we are under attack, take cover," he shouted to his men, but they were like deers caught in headlights. There was incessant firing from all sides. His soldiers were exploding like balloons.

Roger had made a tactical blunder. As per the normal routine, many of his soldiers had put down their guns and removed their protective vests to speed up the stocking. They had done the same many times before and no one had dared to even throw as much as a stone at them. But here many of his men got killed without even getting a chance to pick up their guns.