by Chris Bostic
Shadow Warriors
CHRIS BOSTIC
First printing, May 2019
Copyright © 2019, Chris Bostic
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1097162390
Cover Design by Chris Bostic
All characters and events in this book are fictitious products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
DEDICATION
To everyone who wastes no time
picking up my new releases.
You guys are the reason
I keep living the
writer life.
CHAPTER 1
I blew on my hands, but it did little to loosen up my frozen fingers. Even flexing my knuckles didn’t help. If anything, I was surprised my bones didn’t creak like a rusty door hinge, or seize up tighter than an old truck engine.
“What’s up, Zach?” John whispered. “Little chilly, isn’t it?”
“This sucks.”
“Better get used to it, bud. It’s not getting any warmer.”
I admired the thick beard on Katelyn’s brother, and scratched at my own stubble. Although I hadn’t shaved in weeks, my dark hairs amounted to little more than fuzz—and spotty at best.
Unlike John, I wasn’t technically an adult, yet everything about life on the mountain made me feel that way. The rifle on my lap and shoot to kill orders played oversized parts in that.
The rocky terrain made for a poor recliner. Worse yet, the early morning chill cut right through my jeans. It felt like sitting on a block of ice, but not numbing enough to hide the discomfort.
I kept hidden from prying eyes by scrunching up under the yellowing leaves of a mountain holly bush. Behind my position, a canopy of towering trees higher on the slope helped to complete the seclusion.
About fifty yards below, an even larger mass of vegetation blocked an asphalt road. Seeing how the trees had been purposely dropped over the road to block it several months before, their leaves had long since curled and fallen. Soon the rest of the forest would match the dirt brown appearance of death.
“We’re gonna need coveralls soon,” I said, and blew out a steamy breath.
“True story,” John agreed. “I thought about throwing them on, but it didn’t seem so bad last night.”
“I didn’t stay up that late.” I scratched my head. “I guess that’s kinda weird. I shouldn’t be tired. It seems like all we do is sit out here or sit back there.”
“It’s good exercise,” John replied. “To think people used to pay to go to the gym. We get to hike five miles a day for free.”
“Yeah, free.” I balled myself up inside my coat to conserve heat, and turned my thoughts to the way things should have been. “There used to be a lot more freedom, eh?”
“Yep, and no more gyms. One day society wasn’t healthy enough, and we needed to spend more time outside. Next thing you know, they’re dropping bombs on our neighbors for being out in the streets.”
“Well not exactly just out in the streets,” I said with a chuckle. “We might’ve burned down a building or two.”
“Exercising our rights,” John shot back. “That’s the kind of exercising I like.”
That brought a smile to my face. “Our parents do, that’s for sure.”
“And you don’t?”
“I mean, uhm…I dunno. I totally get how what’s going on is insane. Nothing’s the way it used to be. I just don’t like the idea of sitting here, holding this gun, maybe having to use it.”
“Look on the bright side,” John encouraged. “The roadblocks have been quiet for a long time. I’d say so far so good.”
My head bobbed, though my mind wasn’t in full agreement. I knew firsthand the Feds had shown little interest in clearing out the obstructions farther back inside the park. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help feeling concerned. “I wish. I’d say too quiet. With all the activity in the air, it seems like something big is coming.”
“Maybe…” John swallowed. “I guess you probably know there’s been talk about that.”
“Yeah, I’m not totally clueless,” I replied, though it seemed like my folks still tried to keep me in the dark as much as possible.
John retrained his eyes on the roadblock. His head turned to the side like a curious dog. I tensed immediately, straining my ears to attempt to hear anything other than the whisper of wind slowly stirring as the sun threatened to rise.
My companion turned to me and easily noticed the concern in my eyes.
“Don’t worry. That was nothing…nothing at all. I guess that’s one good thing about the cold. The birds take longer to wake up.”
“I guess so.”
“Anyway, just be glad you’ve got company.”
I agreed with that statement. Still, I had to ask, “What’s that all about anyway? Earlier this summer you guys were going out alone. Should we be worried about the soldiers coming?”
John shrugged. “It’s the weather, I reckon. A person’s probably more likely to fall asleep on duty when it’s cold.”
“All I can do is shiver.”
“Whatever it takes to keep you awake,” John said with a laugh. “That’s another reason to love the winter…and dress light.”
“Forget that. I want a snow suit.”
“That’s coming soon enough.”
My eyes turned to the lightening sky. The grayness of early morning still hung heavily over the mountain like a blanket, though not as wet and wispy as the usual haze that gave the Great Smoky Mountains their name.
A turkey gobble carried to us through the stillness of the frosty morning.
“That’s my cue.” John stood up and slung his rifle over his right shoulder. He reached behind me to retrieve a bow and a quiver of arrows.
“I didn’t know turkeys gobbled in the fall.”
“Sure they do. It’s just for different reasons.” John hung the bow over his other shoulder. “In the fall they just gobble to talk. In the spring they want to get it on with the ladies. Kinda like you and my sister.”
“Whoa, what?”
“You don’t think I see you strutting around?”
“I do not strut.”
“No, not really.” John dropped to a knee. “But we should talk about that whole situation sometime.”
“Uh oh.” I had been waiting for that moment ever since I’d started watch duty with John a couple of weeks earlier. I swallowed exaggeratedly, and couldn’t meet the eyes of Katelyn’s big brother. Her much bigger brother, who made my thinner frame look scrawny in comparison.
“I’m just messing with you.” John clapped me on the back so hard he nearly pushed me off my seat. “You’re a good kid. But don’t you dare break her heart.”
I had no intention of doing that. Katelyn was the best thing that had ever happened to me. One smile from her made the drudgery of our primitive camp life seem like a picnic. The only thing she couldn’t do was completely erase the fear whenever a bomb blast echoed across the expanse of the park.
“I won’t,” I said softly.
“Good. I’d hate to have to hurt you.”
“I’ll bet you could.”
“Anyway, I’m gonna go put the hurt on a turkey now. We could use a good meal.”
Despite the threat of physical violence, I wasn’t ready for John to leave. I hadn’t taken a watch alone, and felt an odd sense of foreboding about that one. Before he could step away, I asked, “How does fall hunting work? Do you still call them in like the springtime?”
“Yes and no. The best way is to find a flock all bunched up together. You can’t get close enough to pop one with an arrow, so you run at ‘em all crazy like and bust ‘em up. It’s perfect when they scatter to the winds.”
“Really? What good
does that do?”
“You sit quiet, right where they bugged out. Give it a few minutes and then start calling. They’ll think they’re getting the band back together, and try to regroup to the sound of your call. They get close and blammo! Winner winner turkey dinner.”
“Huh. Sounds easy enough.”
“You wish. It’s more of a challenge than it sounds.”
“So’s guard duty,” I suggested. “Maybe it’s super boring, but we’re essentially sitting out here waiting to be attacked.”
“I suppose, but don’t worry. You’re gonna be fine, and I’m gonna be back here in no time.”
“I know.” I hoped I sounded braver than I felt. Being confident wasn’t always my strong suit, and I still couldn’t quite overcome it. The less I had time to think about something, the easier it was for me to do it. Even better, if I had company—especially if that company was a pony-tailed, round-cheeked, brown-eyed beauty who turned my heart to mush.
“Okay, good talk,” John said. “I’ll be back.”
He wheeled and stalked down the slope behind me. His camouflage blended in perfectly with our surroundings. In seconds, he’d vanished through the brush in the direction of the turkey gobble.
“Great,” I muttered under my breath. “Just don’t worry. In with the bad, out with the good.”
I pulled my coat tighter and hunched my head down into my shoulders. Looking like a vulture perched on a rock, I stared numbly toward the roadblock. My eyelids grew heavy. So heavy. I shook my head and sucked in another frigid breath.
Somewhere below me, a turkey gobbled again, and I wished John good luck. A hot turkey dinner would be a big improvement over the tasteless canned vegetables and powdered MREs I’d eaten for the past couple weeks. Ever since the explosions seemed to have ramped up across the park, the adults had been more concerned about shooting at game. Squirrels were almost too small for a bow kill, and the deer had proved elusive, though I was sure John wouldn’t have trouble bagging one someday soon. Until then, all I could think about was the gnawing hunger in my belly, and the cold pressing down on me like a weight.
“In with the bad, out with the good,” I repeated, and blinked my tired eyes open again. “Think of somewhere warm. Think of something positive.”
Unfortunately, my active imagination had other ideas. Another turkey gobble turned to a visual of a great hunter surprising a flock of turkeys. But rather than John breaking up the party, I saw images of cruise missiles sailing into the middle of our hideout, right through the mouth of the cave. Blackened survivors scattered like rats from a billowing cloud of smoke.
I sat upright with a jolt only to realize it had all been a dream.
“Jeez, keep it together.” I hugged myself tightly, and blinked my crusty eyes toward the roadblock. I decided that if I sat out there much longer my eyes would freeze shut.
“Holy crap it’s cold,” I moaned a second later. What I wouldn’t give to be back with Katelyn, sharing a blanket and maybe a cup of something warm. Soup, tea, even coffee. The adults loved that black tar, and I was coming around to their side on that one. At least it might keep me awake.
From down the slope behind me, the bushes rustled. I watched for any sign of movement, but the world grew still again.
I assumed it wasn’t the turkeys busting up already. The ones I’d seen would take off flying when they were scared. They’d bash their giant wings into tree branches in a frantic escape. It seemed certain they’d break a wing. But somehow they got under control, and after a few more flaps glided off to relative safety. Only for John to call them back and pick one off.
More images of being hunted raced through my head. Our flock of rebels were the turkeys, scattering when a government helicopter appeared overhead.
“Don’t sleep,” I told myself, trying to stop the nightmares. But, even awake, I couldn’t turn the filmstrip off. I’d seen too much violence already.
And so the bushwhackers in my drama ran from the chopper. The younger kids scattered to the winds, leaving me and Katelyn to chase after them. I instantly went to my sister first for help. No matter the situation, Maddie was brilliant at calming them down.
After that initial burst of adrenaline, my rebels were back under some semblance of control and hiding out in the vast forest. In real life, I told myself that we wouldn’t be the turkeys. We wouldn’t get tricked into going back. If things went south like the way the adults had been hinting about, then we couldn’t make that mistake. We’d run again, and not look back. Supplies would be replaced, but not our lives.
“I hope we don’t have to do that again,” I muttered under my breath, thinking about having to take another trip back into town to gather replacement supplies. Our group’s biggest adventure into town had been early in the mission, and we’d nearly lost Katelyn’s mother in the process—along with several other people, myself included.
Recently, the adults had been sneaking in much smaller parties to gather specific items and try to get a better handle of what was going on in the real world. The only problem happened to be that Gatlinburg was a desolate tourist town in a country with no more tourists, so news was incredibly hard to come by.
Movement on the road far beyond the fallen trees caught my attention. I pushed aside any lingering thoughts to focus. Between tree trunks and dying leaves, a dark blur zipped along the edge of the pavement.
It’s really moving, I thought, and squinted to try to get a better look. At the same time, my hands involuntarily wrapped around the hunting rifle on my lap.
“Probably a turkey,” I whispered. “John’s busted them up.”
The shape looked bigger as it weaved along the roadside, drawing ever closer. But it remained little more than a blob at that distance, and without a clear line of sight. I leaned to the side to try to catch a glimpse between the trees.
I wondered if it might be a bear instead, and cursed my misfortune at letting John run off with the binoculars. I cursed myself again a moment later when I realized I could use the optics on my rifle.
Shouldering the weapon, I trained the scope on the road. The field of vision was small. Too small. I lowered the weapon long enough to reduce the magnification to its lowest setting before glancing again. It took me a while to first find the road, and then scanned along it.
The bear turned out to be a bearded man in a camouflage jacket. He moved stealthily in the brush along the roadside.
“Huh. What’s John doing here?” I whispered, and felt around to find my elbow a place to rest to steady the scope.
Doubts immediately crept into my mind. John wasn’t supposed to be moving. The guy didn’t have a bow or a rifle slung over his shoulder.
My heart rate ramped up to a fever pitch, and I forgot all about being cold. I strained my eyes to make out more than the man’s profile, but he was still too far away. And now the rifle shook in my trembling hands.
Jamming the weapon against my shoulder to stabilize it, I twisted the magnification higher. The movement was enough for me to lose the man. I jerked the scope in a frantic rush to relocate him.
I chided myself to calm down. It didn’t work immediately. My heart thrummed like a woodpecker against my ribcage, rattling throughout my body. Eventually, I steadied the scope.
I swept slowly to my left. A man’s face filled the eyepiece—and only his huge face with eyes seemingly as big as saucers. I lowered the gun. Rather than finding the bearded creeper, a clean-shaven man had somehow closed to only twenty yards away.
CHAPTER 2
“Hold it right there!” I shouted as confidently as I could muster.
The man clutched his chest and stumbled backwards. “Whoa! Whoa! Don’t shoot!”
“Don’t move,” I said, slowly rising to my feet and hoping I wouldn’t pass out from the sudden rush of blood to my head.
“I didn’t see you there,” the man said between ragged breaths. “Don’t shoot.”
“I won’t if you keep your hands up. No sudden movements.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
There was no way I was going to step any closer. I had to know more before I would feel comfortable taking the gun off the man. I lowered my voice, and said, “Tell me what you’re doing here…and where the other guy is at?”
“What other guy?”
“The dude with the beard. Following behind you.”
“There’s no one with me.” The stranger appeared genuinely surprised.
For a second, I wondered again if it could’ve been John. It seemed unlikely.
“Sit down and be quiet.” I gestured with the gun toward a rock a good twenty feet in front of my spot. “You had somebody following you.”
“Did not.”
“I said be quiet.”
My eyes shot back and forth between the roadblock below and the man cowering before me. He wasn’t much older than John, maybe thirty at the most. A green stocking cap covered hair that looked to be no longer than my pitiful beard stubble. Most importantly, his jacket was definitely not camouflage. It was the typical canvas brown chore coat of every farmer I had ever seen.
At least the guy wasn’t in military fatigues or some kind of police uniform, I decided. But I still didn’t know what to make of the stranger. It was entirely possible he was from a different camp. According to my mother, I knew there had to be thirty or more other small groups of rebels spread out across the park. However, two concerns nagged.
First, my group hadn’t seen anyone in this area of the park. In all our watches, no one had ever tried to get around the roadblock, even on foot. Second, and more concerning, there were rampant rumors of traitors in our midst. The untraceable two-way radios that kept the separate camps in contact had all talked about infiltrators slipping into the camps to get their coordinates back to the Feds. And thus, the uptick in aerial bombardments.
My mother had hammered in one precious piece of information more than any other: No one could be trusted.
