Medical supplies were placed where they could be reached quickly. Safe routes away from the most exposed buildings were confirmed. Phones, radios, and cameras were checked again.
Nobody talked about killing.
Everyone understood the stakes.
Dre approached Otis with new information from one of their contacts.
“They’re bringing dangerous equipment.”
Otis looked at him.
“How sure?”
“Sure enough.”
Otis nodded slowly.
“Expected that.”
He looked toward the farmhouse.
“That’s why we made the buildings safer. Let them waste their surprises on walls instead of people.”
The farm looked almost peaceful from the road.
That was important to Otis.
No barricades advertised fear.
No armed men stood around trying to look intimidating.
The defenses blended into the ordinary landscape of a working farm.
“Psychological warfare,” Dre said quietly, remembering something Otis had told him.
Otis shook his head.
“Psychology.”
He looked toward the road.
“Wade thinks fear makes him strong. Let him keep believing that.”
Night fell slowly.
Cool air moved across the fields.
Crickets sang in the grass.
The defenders took their positions.
Communication channels were checked one last time.
In the command center, Otis watched the screens.
For several minutes, only wildlife moved through the darkness.
Then something changed.
Several shapes appeared far beyond the property line.
Vehicles.
More than one.
Moving slowly.
Dre’s voice came quietly through Otis’ radio.
“Contact.”
Otis leaned toward the screen.
“Multiple vehicles. Engines going quiet.”
His large frame settled into the chair.
His breathing remained measured.
“Hold positions,” he said.
“Let them show us what they came here to do.”
The first disturbance came near the front of the property.
Then gunfire erupted.
Bullets struck metal and wood.
Shouts filled the darkness as men rushed forward.
On the monitors, Otis counted dozens of attackers moving in scattered groups.
“Now they’re feeling brave,” he murmured.
The first wave met obstacles they had not expected.
Men stumbled.
Others crashed into one another.
Their formation broke almost immediately.
“They’re bunching up,” Marcus reported.
Otis watched carefully.
“Stay disciplined.”
Bright security lights suddenly illuminated parts of the property.
The attackers shielded their eyes.
Some stumbled backward.
Others shouted conflicting orders.
Gunfire became less controlled.
Otis moved from the command center.
Despite his size and age, his movements still carried the precision of decades of training.
A group of attackers tried to move heavy equipment into position.
Otis and the defenders intercepted them before they could establish themselves.
The confrontation was fast.
When it ended, the equipment lay abandoned and the men who had carried it were no longer advancing.
“Behind you!”
Dre’s warning came just before an attacker rushed Otis from the side.
Otis turned.
Not as quickly as he might have thirty years earlier.