Bandits

Today sucked, a lot.

We were out weeding - a fairly common occurance when you don't have pesticides, by the way? Those crazy hippies who wanted back in the ninties and the early aughts to go organic? Yah, because they didn't have to do the work.

Idiots. Anyway Jack was up on the driveway getting some of the tools we'd brought along when he spotted a line of trucks coming this way, from the direction of the border. Like I said, I've never once run into a bandit but I've heard stories.

Well now I've seen what they're talking about.

God knows where they got the fuel for their trucks - but the roared up our way, wisely avoiding Bottineau (which is fairly well fortified - mostly against undead, but it'll work against a few guys in trucks too, I'm sure).

We headed for the yard, but they spotted the garden, tucked back fifteen yards from the road, just off the driveway as they got closer. Two of the trucks broke off and headed up the driveway - the rest headed down the road to the neighbors. Jack had meant to get on his radio and warn them, but we didn't have time. The two trucks were loaded with about six guys each, and they faced off against the house - loaded for bear. One of the trucks even had a machine gun mounted on it, though no one was manning it. Maybe they were out of ammo. Jack called it a technical. Didn't seem to technical to me, just a truck with a gun mounted - I think even I could figure out how to do that.

From the look he gave me, I bet there's a history lesson in it for me.

The front of the house is brick, which fades to sod. The front wall is a lot thicker then you'd think it should be, and I never knew why. I know why now. Behind the brick, and before you get to the insulation and sheetrock there's an extra wall... of sandbags.

These bandits opened up, while Jack switched his own AR-15 for an Springfield M1A and sliding one of the windows open, returned fire. The wall freaking held. Was sure we were gonna be dead, but at least when you kept your body behind cover, you were ok. Bullets make a weet noise as they fly by that close.

I really wish I didn't know that. I'm still having trouble hearing now - we didn't have time to put our earplugs in, and it was pretty balls to the wall for a couple minutes. Jack took two, and I got a third, before one of them tried a firebomb. The glass didn't break when it came through the window - pure luck, or gods own hand I'll never know, but Jack grabbed it off the floor as it *bounced* and whipped it back out there where it shattered and started a fire under one of the trucks. I think we wounded another as they decided on the better part of valor - the one truck's tires had started on fire at that point - and the beat feet.

Jack is worried they'll be back. We put out the fire on their truck and with a watch mounted, spent the rest of the day salvaging useful items. It was pretty sparse. Fifteen to twenty gallons of some relatively low grade gas - but it should run the tractor, I hope. A couple of banged up, poorly cared for rifles which Jack has told me will be a project for me, and we dropped the oil in the truck too. Not sure what we're going to do with that - but Jack had us push it into the windbreak for the time being.

We've been trying to reach the Nelson's all morning - but haven't gotten a response. Either the radios broke... or worse.

I think he's planning to head that way tomorrow, its only a couple miles down the road, and they're good people. Not looking forward to that, either way.

Anyway, batteries getting low again. Guess that'll be all for today.