The boom of the shotgun in such tight confines nearly deafened me, and I rode the heavy recoil as I shucked the empty casing for another shell before even checking the result of my shot. As that range, less than ten feet, I didn’t think I could’ve possibly missed, and I didn’t. Of course, little did I know the shell was a slug. The entry wound just under his right arm was the size of a beer coaster, and the exit nearly took the man’s head off as it punched through the other side.
I didn’t know how many shells were left in the shotgun, so I kept the Marlin close as I scanned for more targets. Looking from my vantage point, I could see several more bodies down on the ground, either littering the road or floating in the low tide of Mitch’s front yard. In addition to the man I’d just dropped, I counted four more bodies. Doing a quick count, I tallied up eight down total, which left two more I couldn’t see.
I started to worry just about that time, flashing back on the classes I’d taken with Andy at his school. He focused on maintaining situational awareness, and I suddenly realized I’d once again developed a case of tunnel vision. Over the roar of gunshots, I registered another sound, and the truck above me shifting had me rolling on my back, wrestling with the shotgun that no longer seemed like such a good idea. I had the shotgun rising just in time to see a sewer tunnel appear. This turned into the end of a revolver barrel, which had appeared less than eight inches from the tip of my nose.
“Bye,” the pained voice murmured, in that awful moment, I realized I would never see Nancy again. I flinched, and the ‘click’ of the hammer falling on an empty chamber sounded like a sonic boom that seemed to exceed the decibel level of the shotgun being fired earlier.
Soaking wet already, no one could see where I peed in my jeans, and the roar that exploded from my throat would have been more appropriate for a grizzly bear than a man. I surged to my feet, shotgun raised, but I didn’t fire. Instead, I used the butt of the weapon to bludgeon the wounded man for an unknown amount of time. I was in a haze of hate and anger that drove me past all reason.
Finally, my arms tired and my adrenaline running low, I lowered the Browning and took a step back. What was left was recognizable as a human from the mid-chest down, but above that, I’d hammered the corpse into low grade dog food.
“I think you got him,” Mike drawled, and I spun, bringing the shotgun around but lowering it just as quick, my arms shaking with the depleted stamina.
“We got ‘em?” I managed to stammer, my words slurred by a severe case of cottonmouth.
“Yeah, we got them all,” Mike replied carefully. “What the hell happened?”
“He had me, gun to my head,” I managed to get out, and Mike’s drawn expression turned white. “He was out of ammo. I can still hear the thunder of that hammer striking on empty.”
Mike handed me a bottle of water, fished out of the cooler in the back of the Datsun. I killed the bottle in one go, then handed it back. No wasting bottles these days, so we recycled.
Leaning over, barely maintaining my balance, I reached for the fallen revolver. Blued-steel, six-inch barrel, distinctive target front sight, Dan Wesson model. Cracking open the cylinder, I saw the 44 Magnum rounds. So big, using them on a man-sized target was just overkill.
Dumping the nearly thumb-sized cylinders into my palm, I examined the brass and sighed. All spent.
“You need some time?”
“Hah, no,” I replied, just barely able to get the words out. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Gonna help Mitch move these trucks so he can drive his wife and his uncle to the hospital in Woodville.”
I nodded, my head finally starting to clear from earlier. The sensation reminded me of a concussion, but the fog was rapidly clearing.
“My truck still run?”
“Like they’d waste a bullet on that piece of crap,” Mike poked, then finally admitted, “Okay, it did catch a few rounds, but I don’t think that tiny little engine caught anything critical.”
“How’s Mitch’s wife? You said she got shot before we got here.”
“Caught a through and through low on the left side. Got the bleeding stopped for now, he said.”
I nodded.
“Ride with them. I’ll stay here and cover the house,” I volunteered.
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Mike quipped, but I gave him my best evil glare, which honestly wasn’t up to snuff at the moment.
“I think we’re into the next stage of the decline,” I admitted with a sigh. “This isn’t like what happened to Nikki, or what we saw at the Tractor Supply. What happened here wasn’t random or isolated, Mike. That was fifteen fucking guys hunting like a pack of wolves, and no sign of law enforcement. Shit is breaking down faster than I thought it would, but we aren’t quite to the Mad Max stage yet.”
“But it’s coming.” Mike’s whisper was barely audible.
“Yeah, and we’ll need all the allies we can get, so ride shotgun for Mitch while he drives his wounded to the hospital in Woodville. I’ll stay here and guard the house. How many people they got packed in there?”
Mike shrugged.
“Haven’t been in yet.” He gestured, taking in the entirety of the horror show before us. Jeez, I thought with a sick fascination. We really did that.
“The rest all dead?”
Mike nodded, looking out into the increasing rain before answering out loud.
“They are very dead. Well, maybe not quite as dead as the one you tenderized, but yeah, they’re down for the dirt nap.”
“Do we need to do anything with the bodies?”
Mike shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. My first apocalypse and all. Can’t leave these bodies out to rot, though. Gets in the water, and there’s a lot of water here. Let me go see if we can get Mitch’s tractor started.”
I was soaked, my clothes already stank, but I had a notepad in the truck and a pen that still worked. Needing to do something, now that the shooting had stopped, I spent the next ten minutes detailing the location of the bodies, then checked them for their wallets and noted which weapons went with which body. From their wallets, I extracted their driver’s licenses, writing out that information to include their dates of birth and the corresponding license numbers. As I expected, the addresses were all with the mandatory evacuation zones in and around Houston.
While doing my intelligence-gathering work, I also took the time to gather up all the firearms laying loose around the battlefield and pile them up in the back of the Datsun. All were soaked and would require a good cleaning, but best to take care of it sooner rather than later. I also took the time to remove their belts, along with the wallets, to remove the pistols or at least the empty holsters to go with them. Before long, I had enough firearms stacked up to open a gun store. Or at least, a well-armed pawn shop. Other than the suppressed AR-15, I found most of the weapons to be very common and inexpensive models.
“What are you doing?”
I saw the young woman before she spoke, but since she looked like a younger, female version of Mitch, including the mane of red hair, I hadn’t clocked her as much of a threat despite the short carbine she was carrying.
I turned after depositing the last rifle, a beat-up WASR with a cracked wooden stock, then paused to give her a polite nod. In the background, I heard the drone of the small Massey Ferguson tractor as it rolled out of the barn and approached the first of the dead trucks.
“Getting ID on these attackers, matching up the weapons with the shooters and securing the weapons. For when the cops show up.”
“They didn’t last time,” she replied with no inflection in her voice.
“Really? When was that?”
“Two days ago,” she retorted, her anger finally starting to show. “Then it was just three men on foot, and they tried to break into the house. Well, it was at night. They hit the back door, but Mitch had the door reinforced. When they hit it, the intruders were the ones who got a surprise.”
“Wh
at did Mitch do with the bodies?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know?” the young lady asked with suspicion, but I just pointed at the bodies I’d yet to get to processing.
“Ma’am, those bodies need to be disposed of soon. Too wet to cremate, and hard to bury as well.”
“Mitch carried them into town when he couldn’t get anybody to come get them. He just said the deputies took his statement and he turned over the bodies.”
I just grunted, figuring that would be the case here as well.
“I’m Bryan, and that’s my brother Mike,” I said by way of belated introductions, and as a way to pass the time at this point. “I think Mike said he was going to ride with your brother to take his wife to the hospital.”
“My name’s Lucille, but everybody calls me Lucy, and no Charlie Brown jokes. I’d be Peppermint Patty anyway.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucy. Let me finish this survey and I’ll start piling them up for transport. What about the weapons?”
Lucy shrugged, then held up the Hi-Point carbine for me to examine.
“That’s where we got this. When the hurricane hit, I came here with what I could fit in my car. No weapons, very little food. Mitch had that hunting rifle of his, and an old shotgun when I first got here. He got this,” Lucy raised the carbine again, “and the Maverick shotgun my uncle was using before he got shot too.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a hard time of it, since all this happened,” I said, seeing how the pressure had been eating away at this young woman.
She snorted under her breath.
“I was a flight attendant with United, based out of Houston. Hasn’t been much use for my skills since they grounded all the flights. However much I resent how things have turned out, I only have to remember the pictures I’ve seen of Houston and thank my lucky stars I came here.”
“You guys take a lot of damage around here from the hurricane? We had tornadoes up in our neck of the woods.”
“Where is that? You didn’t say.”
“No, I didn’t, did I?” I replied, trying to sound casual as I said it. “Anyway, there’s little that can be done with the bodies, but like I said, I’ll record what I can for the time if and when the cops eventually show up.”
While I stood chatting with Lucy, I watched as Mike and Mitch hooked up the trucks driven by the raiders and pulled them out into the standing water of the yard. The wheels on the tractor spun a few times and I worried the thing was going to get stuck, but Mitch proved to be an able driver and he seemed to know when to stop and when to turn out of the ruts as Mike hooked up the chains and shifted the stricken vehicles into neutral to be towed.
I felt bad, a little, for not helping, but then I was also still jittery about what’d happened earlier. I kept my rifle in hand while the other two worked, and I noticed Lucy watching the road as well. Ten minutes and they had the four trucks moved, and when I saw Mike hop into my Datsun to move it, I couldn’t help shouting at him.
“You ruin that seat with your wet pants and you’ll be buying me another one!”
Lucy stifled a little giggle at my outburst.
“Yep, he’s your brother all right. I think he just flipped you off.”
Mike pulled my truck up near the house and parked, and Mitch drove his tractor back toward the barn. While they were occupied, I walked back out into the water and began the grisly chore of piling up the bodies. I wasn’t burying them, even though Mike and I had made a lot of the mess. As far as I was concerned, we’d done the neighborly thing up to the limit.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After Mike and Mitch had taken off to town with the wounded in Mitch’s truck, a King cab not much different from those favored by the raiders I noticed, I took up a seat on the front porch and played sentry for the next few hours. After the truck left, I stayed outside, figuring the rest of the family was jumpy enough without some stranger showing up. I did take a lap around behind my pickup to relieve my bladder before returning to perch on the rocking chair, angled to watch the road.
I’d finally set aside my Marlin and borrowed the long-barreled AR with the suppressor after I noticed the thing had a Bushnell telescopic sight on it that retailed for more than some cars I’d driven. I promised Lucy we would be leaving all the weapons when we left. Not necessarily out of altruism, but for my own paranoia. When it came to ballistics, who knew how many bodies each one of those weapons had on them? I duly piled up the rest of the haul on a tarp just outside the door, along with all the spare ammunition we’d salvaged. Lucy looked at me curiously but I just shrugged, not wanting to admit we had better at home.
After this gunfight though, I was feeling a little underequipped, like Mike after the Wilson’s Feed Store shootout. I’d only brought the Marlin because I figured on losing it to the cops, again, if we got into another shooting altercation. Now I was thinking I might have been a bit penny wise and pound foolish. I’d never imagined the cops couldn’t be bothered and realized that, yes, the slide had gone further than I’d thought. Maybe we were past the stage where anybody down the road was going to be comparing the lands and grooves.
Lucy retreated back into the house for a bit, but she came out to join me on the porch after about half an hour, bringing me a glass of sweet tea when she came.
“Thanks for the drink. I wasn’t expecting you to have ice with the power out.”
“That’s down to Melissa, Mitch’s wife. She got Mitch to install a backup generator after that hurricane went through a few years back. She didn’t like being totally without power, and it took them a week to fix the lines that time.”
“Oh? I can’t hear it running,” I commented, then strained my ears.
“No, they only run it a few hours a day. Lets us charge some batteries, make some ice in the inside freezer, and keeps deep freeze from thawing. Don’t have a lot of gas for it, either.”
“Syphon what you can from the disabled trucks,” I suggested.
“Good idea,” Lucy conceded. “Likely just go bad, otherwise.”
“How many kids do they have? Mitch and Melissa, I mean.”
“Just the two girls, Misty and Tracy. They’re eight and ten, I think. Honestly, I didn’t get to see my nieces a lot, before. I was just helping Aunt Betty get their dinners ready. And I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to offer you anything to eat.”
I waved it off, noticing her flush with embarrassment.
“Don’t worry about it,” I assured her. “I’ve got something in the truck if I get hungry. That’s a good idea with the generator, but you might mention to your brother to be careful about how often he fires it up. If I was in a gang raiding homes, that would be something I’d be listening for. Makes you think they might have something worth stealing, if they’ve got a generator.”
“You think that might be why they stopped?”
I shrugged. “Sound travels a lot further when the power’s out. I’d just be careful.”
“I’m just really glad you and your brother stopped to help. Why were you two out on the road?”
Figuring Mike would be telling Mitch a similar story, I gave her a vague explanation about going to check on a friend in Kountze.
“That must be a close friend,” Lucy continued. “I’m sure your families must be worried about the two of you out on the road like this.”
“We weren’t that worried, but I guess we didn’t know any better.”
“I’m sure your wife will be furious when you get back,” she pressed, and I nearly laughed. Real subtle, I thought.
“Haven’t had one of those in a while,” I explained, “but I’m sure Mike’s will give him an earful this evening.”
She seemed satisfied with my answer, probably assuming I was divorced, and we moved on to other topics. I didn’t flatter myself, Lucy was clearly desperate for the sound of voices not belonging to her family. I gathered that in addition to Mitch and his family, they had Lucy’s aunt and uncle staying with them for the moment, and it was that uncle who was also
being transported to Woodville for treatment of a leg wound. The confines seemed pretty tight for a house I estimated to be approximately fourteen hundred square feet or less, so that might’ve also been part of the problem.
Thinking on that made me realize we needed to get the repairs completed on the Bonner house so we could ship some of our population over there, especially if Charles and Mary continued to stay on with us. Not that I didn’t appreciate their company, but they were still practically newlyweds, and I knew the cramped quarters had to be driving them crazy. Charles still had no word from his employer, and I was beginning to wonder if he ever would.
“You think this crazy weather will stop anytime soon? I know they’re saying on the radio that these volcanoes have spewed out all that ash in the air, but I still don’t understand what’s up with all the rain. I’ve never heard of earthquakes making it rain.”
I wanted to say something about the meteorite, but I bit my tongue instead. Getting into that topic would lead to a conversation I wanted to avoid with strangers, and she likely wouldn’t believe me anyway. I decided to take another track, and one that might still help their family in the coming months.
“Not everybody is getting this much rain. I know there’s places in Africa that’re still in drought conditions. For us, I think it has to do with the particles in the air, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re looking at a bad winter. All that ash and dust will have an effect on the amount of sunlight we get. You might want to see about laying in some supplies early this fall.”
I knew the rain was less the further east you got, and places like Georgia and the Carolinas were only seeing a slight increase in precipitation. Still way above average, but not like this. On the other hand, I was worried from hearing the wheat production in the Midwest was going to suffer greatly.
“You really think this is going to continue? The rain and the storms?”
“I don’t have any way to be sure, but I know the last time we had a bad round of volcanoes all erupting at the same time, it caused the average temperatures to dip just enough to cause a really bad winter that started early and stuck around late into the next year.”
Tertiary Effects Series | Book 2 | Storm Warning Page 13
