After the excitement of yesterday, Rhondda and I were reluctant to get out of bed. We hugged and were thankful that we still had each other. It made all the difference.
After breakfast, Paddy and I checked on the construction of the shelter. Everyone was working. Many had skills in the building trades, others helped with carrying lumber, boxes of nails or mixing concrete for the foundation slab. There was a good feeling of camaraderie since what they were building was where they would live. Paddy and I were impressed with the progress.
We heard rumors of bikers coming from other parts of Ireland, Wales and the Scandinavian countries. This brought to mind the Great Nordic Biker War of 1983 that brought murder of nine club members (including three presidents) and two innocent people. In 1994 a similar war erupted in Helsingborg, Sweden. It started with a shoot-out between two gangs, followed by several bombings and an anti-tank rocket fired at one of the clubhouses. There were attacks at airports in Denmark and Norway. By the end of the conflict 11 murders and 74 attempted murders had been committed and 96 people were wounded.
We were surrounded by fields on three sides, a road passed in front of the house. We placed land mines inside the fences and had snipers on the roofs of barns, outbuildings and the house.
Three nights later we were awoken by the sound of a land mine being detonated followed by rifle shots. We examined the footage of the surveillance cameras and saw that three bikers had been killed. Our defenses had so far proven effective.
Later, the distant roar of motorcycles awakened us. This time the military was prepared with highway spikes that caused a pileup of bikes. Some took to the ditch and continued toward the house. From a side road, a bulldozer emerged causing another pileup. Still, they advanced toward the house. Rhondda and Brianna were at the second-floor windows where they poured boiling water on anyone that came too close. They also threw furniture out of the window. Snipers on the roof took out many of the approaching bikers. Still, some got through and began chopping with an axe at the front door. Paddy and I blasted the door with shotguns killing several bikers. We saw a hand reaching for the deadbolt through the ragged hole in the door. I smashed it over and over again with my shotgun butt. There was a horrendous scream on the other side of the door but the hand remained. While trying to reload my shotgun some bikers ripped the door open and rushed into the house. Paddy and I pulled our semi-automatic pistols and managed to kill some the invaders. Rhondda, hearing the commotion at the front door ran down the steps two at a time. I felt a burning sensation in my right arm. My gun dropped and a biker came at me. Rhondda kicked the biker squarely in the face. He dropped and added to the pile of bodies in the hall.
It wasn’t over, the bikers regrouped and attacked the house from all sides. We heard other shots from outside. We learned later that Shakes, Ted, Bernard and other guests armed with rifles, handguns, axes and pitchforks had come to our defense, killing many of the bikers. The sound of sirens brought an end to the shooting. The bikers, seeing that they were caught in the crossfire lay down their weapons and surrendered to the police.
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