Keith and the other men smiled. Willis was indeed eager, and would be a good recruit with potential, but it would be best if he didn’t have to put his gunfighting theories to the test just yet.
“We’ll be better off if we’re not seen at all, so let’s make that our priority,” Keith said, “We’ll work our way around behind those houses that aren’t on fire and use all the available cover we can. I don’t plan to spend a lot of time doing it, but I want you to let me go first every time we make a move. Then you wait until I’m in each new position before you break cover to follow me. Got it?”
“Yes sir, Deputy Branson! I’m damned good at sneaking around and keeping a low profile! I had plenty of practice, years ago, but I probably shouldn’t be talking to a lawman about that!”
Willis reminded him of Jonathan somewhat, and Keith didn’t know whether he was joking or telling the truth, but he liked his spirit. He knew he was putting the young man at risk taking him with him out there, but the reality of their situation was that they were all at risk, all the time, whether they chose to sit it out or take action. Like his father and his brother, Keith had always been the kind of man to choose the latter. They needed a lot more men that thought that way, and he was pleased that his three companions today all seemed to fit the mold.
“Don’t shoot us when we circle back,” he told Joe and Ronnie. “I plan to come around by way of the next block over to the west of the truck. If it’s still there, Willis and I are going to grab it. When you see us get in, head for yours and wait for us there. When we pass you, just follow us.”
Keith worked his way from one vacant house to the next beyond the cluster of homes that were burning. The contractors had targeted only the occupied dwellings, and it was too late to know whether they’d taken the residents prisoner as they’d done in the other community or if they’d simply killed them and left them inside to burn. The house fires were still too hot to approach close enough to find out, so he focused on checking for survivors hidden among the still standing structures. But the first person he saw was lying face down on the sidewalk two blocks beyond the street where they’d shot the three men in the truck. Keith knew who it was even before he knelt at the unmoving woman’s side.
“Annette Bouchard,” Keith muttered, as he felt her limp wrist for the pulse he knew wasn’t there. Mrs. Bouchard had been shot in the chest, and next to her body in the grass beside the sidewalk, was a Savage single-shot 20-gauge she’d probably dropped when she fell. The hammer on the shotgun was down, and when Keith picked it up and broke open the action, a spent shell ejected from the chamber. He hoped like hell that Mrs. Bouchard had made that single load of double-aught buck count and had gotten one of the bastards before they killed her, but he knew it was unlikely. She’d died bravely regardless though, fighting back against the ruthless mercenaries who’d shot her down and couldn’t be bothered to even pick up her antiquated weapon. Keith waved Willis over to help him, and the two of them dragged her body to the flower bed that bordered her front porch.
“I’ll take it if you don’t want it,” Willis said, picking up the shotgun. “I’ve got plenty of 20-gauge squirrel shot, so I can put it to use.”
“Good; it’s yours then. I think I’ve seen all I need to see here. Let’s make our way around to that truck. We’ve still got to get those three guys loaded in the back before we take off.”
“We’re taking the bodies too?” Willis asked. “What for?”
“Mainly because I don’t want to leave them here for their buddies to find. But I’ve got other reasons too. You got a problem with picking up dead guys?”
“No. I just didn’t know that was what we were gonna do, that’s all.”
“I didn’t either until I got to thinking about it, but that’s why I brought you. You’re younger and stronger than either Joe or Ronnie.”
Eleven
ERIC AND JONATHAN COULD still hear the gunboat cruising up and down the river in the distance as they slogged through the sucking mud and fought their way through dense underbrush and weeds. It was almost as if the crew were taunting them after destroying Ronnie’s boat, and if there had been an easy way to retaliate and blow them out of the water, Eric would have gladly done it, but with only Jonathan to help him, he decided it wasn’t worth it. If the attack had happened at night, he would have been tempted to find a way to board it from the water. Such a boat would be a hell of a prize to capture, and of course would prove useful for dealing with the C.R.I. incursion into St. Martin Parish. But to take it would require the expenditure of an enormous amount of energy hiking, swimming and probably fighting hand-to-hand, and as it was, Eric and Jonathan had no food on them and were already facing a journey that could take days at best.
It was fortunate that the kid was already at home in swamp country, because Eric was deliberately seeking the least-hospitable route he could find to reduce the chances of running into a foot patrol of some sort. He had no idea who this new enemy was that had taken control of the upper part of the river, and he had no desire to tangle with them if it could be avoided. Realistically, he doubted there were actually any patrols out stomping around the boonies for no good reason, but it wasn’t worth taking a chance until they put some serious distance between them and the wiped-out Army post at Simmesport. The gunboat gave them the ability to maintain control of the river, as its crew had handily demonstrated today with their aggressive attack, but Eric knew they had to be operating out of a new base somewhere, and he and Jonathan hadn’t seen any indication of anything of the sort on their way upriver. He had no way of knowing if it was just bad luck that the boat crew had spotted them at the abandoned post, or if a lookout somewhere had radioed it in when the two of them went by the night or afternoon before. But the biggest mystery of all was who they were, and he and Jonathan had discussed it quietly during their few, brief breaks along the way.
“It makes some sense that they could be C.R.I. contractors or another company affiliated with them,” Eric said, “since we know C.R.I.’s mission is to control the Gulf Coast states. If that is the case, then the region is already screwed, because that would mean they’ve probably already secured the Mississippi River, at least from here down to the coast.”
“So, the better part of south Louisiana could already be basically surrounded....”
“Yep, it’s possible. But it’s also possible that this is unrelated to C.R.I. and their plans. You know what Ralph, the Chief Engineer on the C.J. Vaughn and Captain Anderson told us about the Mississippi before the attack on the river up there. There may be more than just a rogue militia at work there. If what he said is correct, they already control a huge area of land along some of the bigger tributaries of the Mississippi. Someone could be paying professional contractors to do their dirty work as well.”
“Wow! You gotta wonder where all the money is coming from if that’s true,” Jonathan said. “From what you’ve told me about the kind of money you’ve made doing the gig, it must take some serious bucks to put together a small army of dudes like that!”
“Yep, you bet it does. But look what’s at stake if they succeed. Aside from just pirating fuel barges on the Mississippi, there’s no telling what else that group has taken control of. Just having that much territory gives them immense resources and power. But even that’s nothing compared to what C.R.I. and the cartel is doing. If they have Texas and the rest of the Gulf Coast, they’ve essentially got control of what’s left of the petroleum industry in the country. Do you know how many refineries there are down there? If they get all of that, they can start their own independent country, which is probably exactly what they have in mind. The only question is who ‘they’ are. And it’s a question we may not get the answer to for a long time.”
“If ever,” Jonathan added.
Once they were back on the move, Eric didn’t waste his mental energy pondering all those questions. His focus instead was on navigation, and for the remainder of the day, that meant keeping to deep cover. By night
fall they were exhausted, soaking wet and hungry. The deer flies that harassed them by day were replaced by the mosquitoes that worked the night shift in the insect kingdom’s insatiable quest for mammalian blood. Both men were used to being harassed and bitten by the flying tormentors, so their only reaction was the occasional quiet slap to flatten some particularly annoying individual.
“I’m freaking starving,” Jonathan whispered, when they paused for a moment before wading into yet another slough that they had no way of knowing if they could walk across or would have to swim. “I’m hungry enough to skin the next snake we come across and eat it raw!”
“I’ve done it before,” Eric said. “Tastes just like Sushi.”
“Right....”
“We’d be okay building a small fire as long as we’re well out of sight of the river and the road,” Eric said, “so if you’re that hungry, I’d say we should go for it. I’ll keep an eye out.”
Snakes weren’t the only option, of course, but considering that they had already seen several fat water snakes of both the non-venomous variety and the dangerous cottonmouth, Eric agreed with Jonathan that catching one wouldn’t be too difficult. But the cooler temperatures that came with nightfall meant they weren’t as active as on a hot summer night, so he was afraid they had missed that opportunity until the warming sun of morning brought them out again. The good thing about that was that it made moving at night a little safer though, as it was impossible to see where they were stepping in the dark forest even though they had the filtered glow from a nearly full moon providing enough illumination to keep them from running into trees. Eric’s stomach was rumbling with hunger too after Jonathan mentioned it, and it only got worse when after another hour of slogging, the faint scent of cooking meat and wood smoke reached his nostrils, overpowering the ever-present odor of rotting wood and mud that surrounded them.
“Am I imagining things, or do you smell that too?” Jonathan whispered.
“It’s real,” Eric said. “Somebody’s cooking meat on a fire.”
“Oh man, that’s sick! Here I am, practically famished, while somebody that close by is sitting there fat and happy, grilling a steak!”
“Or more likely a possum, or an armadillo....” Eric said.
“Whatever. It’s meat—it’s all the same to me!”
“Let’s check it out; see if we can figure out who it is. It may be a patrol camp, or someone else affiliated with whoever shot up our boat today.”
“Do you really want to do that? I thought we were going to avoid contact if at all possible.”
“In the daytime, yes. But at night, we’ve got the advantage, especially since they have a fire. We don’t have to get close, but from what little bit of southerly breeze there is coming off the Gulf, I can tell they are between us and where we have to go anyway, so it’s not like we’d be going out of our way. Who knows, maybe they have a boat nearby that we can steal while they’re pigging out on those rib-eyes they’re grilling!”
“Don’t even say it, dude! I’m hungry enough to kill for a grilled rib-eye!”
“You may get your chance! Now follow me and stick close so we can whisper! They may have perimeter security out here!”
Eric figured any intel he could gather was worth the trouble and sneaking up on the nearby camp wasn’t going to take them too far out of their way. There was always a risk of contact that could lead to a firefight but considering the darkness and the deep cover of the woods, that risk was low enough to be acceptable. He took it slow and stopped often to listen as the two of them gradually closed the distance. Jonathan moved well in the woods, due to his extensive time in the outdoors in his prior life, and more recently, his introduction to stealth and cover in real combat situations. He followed Eric like a shadow, without a word or moment of hesitation, and soon they were close enough to see flickering light from the fire illuminating the underside of the tree canopy a couple hundred feet ahead. The smell of cooking meat was intense now and impossible to ignore, and Eric again felt the rumble in his own stomach at the thought of his rib-eye joke with Jonathan.
Eric could hear voices from the camp before he was close enough to actually see anyone, and as he stood motionless and listened carefully, it became apparent that this was a sizable group of people that not only included men, but also women and children. Eric was pretty certain now that this was a civilian encampment, because soldiers or professional contractors wouldn’t take a chance with a fire that size. Even so, he knew that if these folks had any sense at all, they would have an armed watch posted somewhere, so it would require extreme caution to approach any closer.
“They’re probably refugees,” he whispered to Jonathan. “We’re near enough to that abandoned community near the bridge that they may have come from there. I want to get closer though and see for sure. I’d like to hear what they’re talking about and see if they have a vehicle or boat we may be able to use.”
“If they’re just refugees, maybe we ought to ask them if they can help us. Maybe they’ll offer us something to eat.”
“Don’t bet on it, kid. What would you do if a couple of armed strangers approached your camp at night? That already happened to you and Vicky out there in the mountains.”
“Yeah, but that dude was a horse thief. He didn’t ask for nothing. He just got the drop on us and walked up to our camp with his shotgun pointed right at us—no negotiation. I wasn’t talking about doing something like that.”
“I know, but why don’t you wait right here and let me do the recon. If it looks promising, we can decide what to do afterward.”
“Whatever dude. I can be quiet too, you know. Just don’t sneak in there and grab all the dinner without me!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll save some leftovers for you! Here, hang on to these until I get back. I can move quieter without them, especially if I have to crawl.” He handed Jonathan his M4 and the chest rig with his spare magazines and the grenades, taking only his fighting knife and the pistol he wore on his belt. Then, he slipped into the shadows and crept closer until he could catch a glimpse of the people clustered around the fire. Just as his ears had told him, there were several women and a few children and teenagers among them, and Eric saw at least a dozen men ranging in age from early twenties to gray-bearded seniors. A few of the men carried slung rifles over their shoulders and almost all wore a sidearm. Eric didn’t see any trucks or other full-sized vehicles, but there were several quad and side-by-side ATVs parked at the edge of the clearing on the other side of the fire, and next to them, was a cluster of large tents. The meat that he and Jonathan had been smelling was a small pig that was spitted on a pole, roasting slowly over the low flames of a second cooking fire, and from the looks of it, the folks in the camp were about to dig in for the feast.
As he watched, movement caught his eye out by the parked ATVs, and a moment later a man carrying an AR-15 stepped into view and continued around the edge of the clearing, obviously running security detail while the rest of the group focused on the two fires. This told Eric that these folks weren’t completely oblivious, even though they probably thought their camp was relatively safe from discovery. And they were mostly right, he thought, as the likelihood of a pair like he and Jonathan creeping through such dense woods in the dark was surely rather low. The camp was far enough from the river that the fire wouldn’t be spotted by anyone passing by out there, and he figured that they’d also been here the night before when he and Jonathan made that passage themselves without seeing it. Conversely, because they’d been running in the dark with the outboard just above idle, it was also likely that no one in the camp was aware they’d passed.
A group this large had to have a very good reason to be hiding out like this in the middle of the woods, and Eric thought it was likely because they’d been fearful to remain in their homes, if they still had homes at all. It didn’t take more than a brief observation to confirm his first impression that they were locals and weren’t associated with whoever wiped out the post
at Simmesport or the crew of the gunboat that left Eric and Jonathan stranded upriver. That didn’t automatically make them friendly, but Eric got the sense that they were ordinary citizens trying to make the best of a bad situation. Still, even the most peaceful civilians would feel threatened by two hungry men stepping out of the dark woods in the middle of the night. Eric didn’t want to provoke a shooting incident that might end with someone getting hurt or worse, so after watching the camp for another ten minutes, he withdrew to where he left Jonathan and told the kid what he’d seen.
“Roasted wild pig....” Eric whispered. “That’s what you’re smelling, and man, does it look delicious!”
“Dude! You’re killing me! So, who are they? You obviously didn’t talk to them and didn’t get invited to dinner.”
“I think they’re just a bunch of locals. Probably three or four families and some more assorted friends and relatives. A few women and children, but more men than anything. They’re armed. I saw a few ARs, but more hunting rifles and shotguns. They have a few four wheelers and those bigger side-by-side ATVs, but no trucks, and no trailers with boats on them.”
“So, they can’t help us.”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying I didn’t see a boat. That doesn’t mean they don’t have them somewhere though. I think these folks came from those abandoned houses we saw by the bridge. They’re hiding out, and some of them have obviously been hunting. They may have some useful information about what’s going on up here on this part of the river, but I’ll bet they know nothing of the situation in Texas and what’s coming. I’d like to talk to them, but not in the middle of the night. We’ll wait out here until daylight, and then see if we can approach them without scaring the hell out of them.”
“Dude! That’s torture! You mean we’ve got to spend the whole night out here smelling that roast pig?”
“You’ll be all right until morning, Jonathan. Hell, you just ate yesterday! It could be a whole lot worse! But if you can’t sleep because of it, then you can take the first watch and I’ll crash. Wake me up if anything changes over there.”
Feral Nation - Defiance (Feral Nation Series Book 8) Page 11
