by Nancy Isaak
“Mother?” snickered Florenza, in my ear.
I chose to ignore her.
“Do we have eyes on them?” I asked Erroll.
“We’ve got Raiders up on the hill opposite Zuma Beach. They’ve set up a message system with mirrors—some sort of code they’ve been practicing. The Raiders are spaced out—Trancas to Paradise Cove—so we know almost immediately what’s happening all along the highway.”
“That Shawnee,” I said, proud of the girl’s ingenuity.
Suddenly—there was the sound of gunshots in the distance—ten to fifteen quick massed shots, followed by two individual ones.
“Those first shots are probably the Crazies,” explained Erroll. “They keep trying to sucker us into a shooting match.”
“Trying to make us waste ammunition.”
He nodded. “But we’re conserving it, just like you wanted. Shooting back once or twice, just enough to show we’re here.”
“Good,” I said, pleased to hear that my guys were following orders. “Erroll, with the system that the Raiders have set up, does that mean that I can get a message quickly to Shawnee?”
“Absolutely. We can probably get her to come into the command post if you want. Just have to create a distraction to get her across the highway safely.”
I shook my head. “Leave her alone. She’s exactly where I need her.”
* * * *
The command post that Kieran and Pauly had set up at Pavilions was actually in the parking lot. Cars had been pushed aside to create a space for both people and horses. In the very center was a long table and chairs—maps of the Point and surrounding areas were laid out on the table, Lego figurines being used to mark the Crazies’ positions.
“Darth Vader?” I smirked, tapping a little plastic figurine. “Since it’s sitting on Trancas, I’m assuming that it’s a Crazy.”
Erroll drew his finger along the map, moving past tiny Lego construction workers spaced a few inches apart, all along Pacific Coast Highway. “And these are the Raiders. This one here.” He tapped a Lego Hawkeye, the bow carrying superhero. “That’s Shawnee.”
“Of course it is. By the way, did you get that message to her?” I asked.
“Being sent as we speak,” he nodded. “Last we heard from Shawnee, the Raiders are prepared—just waiting for the second flare.”
“What about the rest of the guys on the line?”
“Everybody knows.”
“Good. Then, I want every third guy pulled off the line and sent back along Dume Drive to help Frank. Do it in a way that won’t alert the Crazies to what we’re up to. As far as they’re concerned, I want them thinking that we’re still at full strength.”
“You want to take a third of our guys?” asked Erroll, not pleased with the idea.
“Go right down the line,” I nodded. “Every third guy. If this plan is going to work, Frank will need the extra help.” Erroll was about to object, but stopped when I held up my hand. “Now.”
He immediately nodded. “Yes, Mother.”
As Erroll raced off, I looked over at Florenza; she was grinning widely at me.
I sighed. “Got something to say, chica?”
“It’s just funny, you know…them calling you mami.”
Before I could respond, another guard raced up, panting heavily. “Just got a mirror-message from the Raiders down near Trancas. Crazies are heading this way. They’re coming down the highway now!”
“How many?”
“All of them…fifty, sixty.”
“How’s the roadblock going at the entrance to the Point?”
“We’re pushing cars up against each other. It’ll slow the Crazies down some, but it won’t stop them for long when they attack.”
Another guy raced up—this one from one of the southern teams. “We got maybe thirty Crazies coming down Kanan! Shawnee wants it confirmed that no one shoots.”
“Tell her it’s confirmed,” I told him. “Unless you’ve got a Crazy about to kill you, everyone stands down. Only one who shoots before the second flare goes up are the guys I’ve already given permission to.”
The guys I was talking about were ten Locals, spread out along the highway. They were older guys—all over seventeen—kids less likely to be impulsive, who could be relied on to shoot off only a single bullet at a time. I had charged them with responding to any Crazies who were firing—to shoot back, but only enough to keep the bad guys occupied.
I motioned to one of the younger kids nearby, drawing him over. “Can you ride a horse?”
He nodded. “We do gymkhana at my summer camp every year.”
“Take Beauty—the big black over there. Ride him down to where Frank’s set up back along Dume Drive. I need to know how much longer he needs. Let him know that the Crazies are on the move. Tell him we’ve got at least eighty armed guys no more than thirty minutes away.”
As the kid raced away, I yelled after him. “And that’s my horse, dude. You break it, you’ll pay for it!”
* * * *
“You want me any place special, chief?” asked Florenza.
“Right beside me for now.”
We were still at the map, moving the Lego Darth Vader closer to our end of Zuma Beach.
“Kind of like a real-life video game,” Florenza mused.
“Only we’ve got no extra lives,” I said, grimly. “Dead is dead in this game.”
A couple of kids ran by, their rifles bouncing across their backs. They were heading to the south, filling in the weak spots left when I’d sent guys back to help Frank.
“Those boys are kinda’ young,” frowned Florenza. “I’m guessing ten, eleven.”
“It’s just for show,” I told her. “Soon as the shooting starts, they’re to fall back to the compound.”
“How many real shooters we got on the lines, then?”
“No more than sixty-five,” I admitted. “If that.”
“Against over a hundred Crazies?! Damn girl,” whistled Florenza. “Your plan better work!”
* * * *
As the sun edged toward the horizon, Frank showed up at the command post—covered in dirt, his eyes round and white amid the shadows on his face.
“Done and done,” he told me, yawning with fatigue. “What about the Crazies?”
“Almost all of them are here…just outside the Point,” I said. “From what we can see they’re forming into teams—looks like four-man groups. The good news is that it seems like they’re going to come in along Heathercliff, which means that they’ll be all together.”
“Because they think those others are coming up behind us,” said Florenza. “Ones we took out on the cliff. They were figuring on squeezing us between them on Dume Drive.”
Bang-bang-bang-bang!
Bang-bang!
“That sounds close!” Frank exclaimed—his eyes going wide, adrenaline chasing his fatigue instantly away.
“It is close,” I admitted. “On the opposite side of Pavilions. They keep shooting at us from the highway. Taking potshots, trying to draw us out.”
“But that’s close enough for someone to get hit!” Frank’s brow creased with worry. “I mean, a bullet could come right through those buildings and get us. Like maybe we should fall back, out of shooting range.”
“Not until it’s time,” I told him. “Crazies see us retreating, they might come at us full force now. Then, we wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Florenza clapped a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “It’s all about timing, dude.”
* * * *
We could hear the Crazies assembling on the highway—yells and hoots, designed to make us tremble in fear.
It was working; I could see the terror on many of the faces around me.
I moved up and down the line—riding Beauty, a gun visible in my hands—making certain that every Local knew that they hadn’t been abandoned, that I would fight right alongside them.
As I rode, I heard the whisperings—words like ‘Mother’ and ‘Crazies’ and ‘Vict
or’. The story of what had happened back at the cliff had reached even here; guys saluted me as I passed, thanking me for keeping them safe.
* * * *
Mother—I think I understood it now.
As the yells from the Crazies out on the highway became more frenzied, I fretted over how best to protect my guys—to keep them safe from the evil they were facing. I realized that I would do almost anything to save them all.
Yet—I also knew that wasn’t realistic.
Even if my plan was successful—even if I did manage to save the tribe and the Point—people were going to die tonight.
Young boys would die.
I might die.
But if that happened…I was determined to take as many Crazies with me as I could!
To protect my tribe…my family.
Because—that’s what mothers do.
* * * *
The sun had finally sunk below the horizon; the light was fading fast.
I galloped back to the command post, jumping off Beauty and racing over to Frank and Florenza. They were standing at the base of the flag pole at the far end of the parking lot, staring up at a ragged American flag that hung limply there, curled in on itself—its stars and stripes a fading remnant of another world.
Not once did Frank’s eyes leave that flag, not even when I placed my hand upon his shoulder.
“Anything?” I asked.
He shook his head. “But it’s coming…I know it.”
I looked up at the flag; it was motionless, not a single flap, not a twitch in its folds.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
“The Crazies are going to come soon,” I predicted. “It’s getting dark too quick. They won’t be able to wait for the flare.”
“The wind will come…it always does,” Frank murmured.
“I think we have to move back,” I reasoned. “The wind’s not coming…or if it is coming, it will be too late. If we have to evacuate, we need to do it now.”
“Frank…we gotta’ listen to chief!” urged Florenza, tugging at his sleeve. “We gotta’!”
Just outside of the Point, the Crazies on the highway began to chant. I couldn’t make out the words; to me, it sounded more like a collection of grunts and fierce screams. The noise became even more chaotic as drums began to pound, horns blew, and guns fired.
“They’re just trying to frighten us!” I yelled at the guys around me—knowing full well that the Crazies had succeeded.
We were all scared; I know that I was terrified.
I turned back to Frank. “We took a chance, but it didn’t work…so we need to go!”
Flap…flap, flap, flap…
All around me, guys turned their heads toward the flagpole.
My gaze snapped upwards; the flag had risen in the air, was struggling even higher as I watched.
Beside me, Florenza gasped, “Frank?”
“Wait for it,” he whispered.
A cool breeze wafted around my head; my bangs fluttered against my forehead. Up above, the American flag caught a gust of wind. With a giant thwap!, it unfurled completely, flapping freely all along its length.
“NOW!” yelled Frank. “Do it now!”
Then, he took off running through the parking lot, heading for the exit that would lead back into the Point. As he did, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the flare gun. Lifting it high into the air, I looked at the faces all around me—expectant, hopeful.
“No more!” I yelled. “This is where we stop them…right here, RIGHT NOW!”
And—I shot off the flare.
* * * *
I was right.
The moment the light flared into the sky—a red star that arced high over our heads—the fighting began.
The Crazies surged onto the Point along Heathercliff Road—clawing over the cars we’d pushed in their way—yelling and screaming.
I grabbed Florenza and shoved the extra flare gun into her hands.
“Hurry!” I urged her. “Take Beauty and get back to the line. If I don’t return, you’ll need to fire it!”
“You’re not coming?!” She looked horrified.
“Just go!” I shouted at her. Then, I pulled out my gun, and raced toward a rusting Mercedes. Erroll was already there and he grimaced at me, unhappy—pointing to a case of bullets beside him. “Extra ammo is there…nine millimeter, which should fit your gun.”
I quickly shoved a handful into each of my pockets. “We need to time this just right,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else, “or it’s not going to work.”
“First ones are coming now!” Erroll shouted.
“Don’t shoot until our guys are past,” I ordered. “We need to leapfrog…stick to the plan!”
Peering over the Mercedes, I saw our first line of fighters—the ones who had been closest to the highway—racing back toward us. They were being chased by Crazies—half-naked and screeching—bounding along Heathercliff, shooting as they came.
The slowest of our guys went down—shot in the back.
A Crazy leaped forward, machete flashing as he cut the kid’s head off.
Another one of our stragglers fell under three screaming Crazies; they jumped on him—punching, kicking, stabbing.
Next to be caught was a 17-year old Local, a sweet kid who spent his spare time helping out in the Medical Clinic. He was lifted up by a mob of Crazies, high in the air. They threw him to the ground, surrounding the kid—their machetes flashing down, only to rise up again, covered in red.
“Oh God,” whispered Erroll. “We have to do something!”
“Wait until our guys get past,” I ordered him. “Unless you’ve got a clear shot, you have to wait!”
More Crazies were surging onto the Point; in moments our position would be overrun. The guard on the opposite side of Erroll began to say the rosary under his breath, even as he sighted down the barrel of his rifle.
After what seemed like forever…our first line of fighters finally reached our positions and raced past.
“NOW!” I screamed.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!
All along the parking lot, our guns and rifles began to fire.
I had placed the few semi-automatics we had along the edges of Heathercliff, aiming down toward the entrance to the highway—hoping to catch the Crazies in the cross-fire. It seemed to be working; tattooed and mohawked kids fell—flowers of blood blooming across their chests and foreheads.
The forward momentum of the Crazies faltered; they slowed, some of them dropping behind vehicles, others actually running back to join the larger force still pushing in from the highway.
“Fall back!” I shouted to the guys around me. “Second line to the next position!”
We began to run—weaving through the cars—heading toward the parking lot exit. The semi-automatics barked out a steady stream of bullets, keeping the Crazies occupied until we’d turned down Dume Drive. As soon as we were around the corner, the kids manning the semis followed after us, racing to keep ahead of our enemy.
A short distance down Dume Drive, we passed our first line of fighters—the kids who had been closest to the highway. They were now positioned behind a line of cars that we’d pushed across the road, their guns and rifles aimed forward.
Even as my team and I jumped and slithered our way around the vehicles, the guys from our first line began to fire their weapons. I could hear the shouts and screeches of the Crazies increasing, and I glanced behind me to see that their main force had turned the corner.
They were on Dume Drive now and headed toward us!
“Keep running!” I yelled to my group of guys, ignoring the bullet that whizzed by my head. “We have to get to the second position!”
Thirty yards away was another line of cars across the road. As we ran toward it, a kid at the far edge of our group went down. I hesitated—just long enough to see that part of his face was blown away—then returned to running. My legs were killing me, partly from the exertion—mostly fr
om the pummeling they’d taken from Victor.
Erroll made the roadblock first, leaping over a Jeep and taking up a shooting position on the other side—all in one motion. The other guys followed, each one finding their spot—the kids with the semis moving off to the sides. I was the last one to reach the line of vehicles and I could see the horror on the guys’ faces, the worry that I wouldn’t make it in time.
I had intended on leaping over the Jeep, just like Erroll had done. Instead, I caught my foot on the hood and did an awkward bounce, sliding over the side and onto my butt. One of my guards grabbed me by the back of my shirt and pulled me upright, pushing me into my shooting position.
“Where’s the first line?!” I barked, trying to ignore the pain radiating down my right leg.
“Coming right now,” answered Erroll. He pointed down Dume Drive to where our first group of fighters were racing toward us. Behind them, the Crazies had just made the first roadblock. They were scrambling up and around the cars—a few stopping on top of the roofs to take aim at our fighters.
“Hurry up!” I whispered, praying to our guys to run—faster, faster, faster!
The first one of our guys made our roadblock, flipping over a nearby vehicle like he had been a gymnast in the previous world. Sticking his landing on the other side, he took off running again—essentially leapfrogging us toward a third roadblock fifty yards away down Dume Drive.
Suddenly, I noticed that a handful of Crazies had broken off from the main group. They were coming up on our left side, squeezing along beside a large mansion.
“On your flank!” I shouted to the kid on our far left—one of the ones hefting a semi-automatic. He spun around—quickly taking aim.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
Four of the Crazies went down immediately; the fifth and last retreated, melting back around the side of the mansion. Meanwhile, the last of our first line of guys had leapfrogged our roadblock, so we jumped up, our weapons blasting away.
Another six Crazies racing toward us went down to our rifles and guns—two of them landing beside a dead Local. The kid was lying across the road, his hand reaching toward a fallen rifle even as he had died.
