by Ray Wench
“You came,” West said as he shook Mark’s hand.
“I told you I would.”
West looked around. “We lost a lot of good people. I’m just glad there was a basement, or none of us would have survived that machine gun. We were lucky. This may only be the beginning of the invasion. We’ll never be ready to face another attack.”
“I’m not so sure it’s an invasion, General.”
“What do you mean? It’s kind of obvious, don’t you think?”
“Look at these men. Other than all being Asian, there’s nothing here that suggests they’re a foreign army.”
“They attacked us en force.”
“Oh, I’m not saying they didn’t act as a military group, but look at them. None of them is in uniform. They’re all very young, and most of them have tattoos that to me suggest they’re most likely a very organized street gang. They didn’t fight as trained soldiers, otherwise they would have overrun you with their numbers. There was little thought to their attack, other than to surround you.”
“Why would a street gang travel away from the city and attack armed men? I would think they’d avoid us.”
“Unless whoever was in charge had power lust going on. Maybe he wanted to conquer the world. When they were trying to outflank us, they were speaking English. I’m sorry. I think this was just someone’s attempt at dominance.”
“Well, we’ll just have to disagree then.”
“I guess so.”
“I still have to prepare my men to face this country’s enemies. Maybe more will come, maybe not, but someone has to stand up to them.”
“As long as you remember who your friends are.”
Two vehicles came into view from the west. Everyone pointed weapons until Mark recognized them.
“Wait, they’re with us.”
An army truck lumbered a short distance behind.
Ninety-Three
Mark and the general walked to the street to meet the new arrivals. The vehicles emptied, and a happy reunion began. One of the men was limping. Brandford had a cut on his face.
“It’s good to see you. When we couldn’t reach you, I thought the worst,” Mark said. “What happened?”
“We heard shots, so we stopped and went to explore. The Chinese were shooting at the tank, but it was buttoned up tight. They were standing next to it, trying to find a way in.
“We watched, but there were eight of them and only three of us. I told Lewis to contact you, but he dropped the radio down the slope. It rolled all the way to the turnpike. Then he tried to retrieve it but fell. All eight enemy turned and started shooting. We had no choice but to fight. Lucky we had the higher ground. Unfortunately none of us is that good a shot.
“It was a standoff. Lewis couldn’t get back up the slope without getting shot or we would’ve just left. Then that crazy son-of-a-bitch over there,” he pointed at Vince, “slid down the hill on the opposite side, picked up an automatic rifle, and opened fire from behind. He made the difference.
“The soldiers in the tank poured out and took care of the rest. That was it. We packed everyone up and came here.”
Mark looked at Vince with raised eyebrows. Vince saw his look and shrugged.
They sent the wounded back to the house in the truck. The remaining soldiers spent the remaining daylight stripping the bodies of anything useful.
Mark sent everyone but Lincoln and Jarrod home. Then he returned to the general.
“Here’s another thing that doesn’t make sense, General. What were these men living off? I mean, look. None of them has any food with them. They don’t have packs or anything to carry equipment. They have their weapons and basically that’s it. How were they supplied? Does that sound like any invading army you’ve ever heard of?”
“Well, where did they come from? And why attack an army convoy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they came from Chicago. Maybe they wanted your tank. But wasn’t one of your trucks filled with supplies?”
“Yeah … food, water, medical supplies, ammunition, weapons.”
“See what I mean? Where are their supplies? Were they just living off the land as they went? That’s not how a successful invasion would go. Troops need food. You should send some men to the other side of the turnpike to see if they had a supply truck somewhere.”
“I’ll do that. We have to go that way anyhow to see if we can salvage any of the vehicles.”
“I almost hope you’re right, General. It’d be sad to think we just killed a bunch of Americans. There aren’t that many of us left.”
“Well, there’s about fifty fewer now. But I still say they’re foreign. Where else would they find so many Chinese men in one place?”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Well, let’s say they weren’t from China, that they were here on visas or visiting, or something, but they knew the attack was going to happen. Maybe they had an antidote or vaccine for whatever killed everyone. Then after the people died off, their job was to sweep through the country, killing any survivors.”
“I think you’re seeing conspiracies everywhere. I’ll leave that contemplation to you. I’m taking the rest of my people home. You know where to find me if you need anything.”
Ninety-Four
The community buried Bill at his family’s home. His wife and son moved into a house next door to the Brandfords for security.
The gut-shot soldier died the next day from too much internal damage. The dead soldiers were buried at the base with their other fallen comrades. There were only twenty-five soldiers left.
The community turned out for the soldier’s burial. The families prepared food for a wake, cementing the bond between the two groups.
West asked Mark to take another walk while everyone was eating. “You know, I’ve given what we talked about a lot of thought.”
“And?”
“I think you’re wrong about the Chinese not being an army. Think about it. With this much death surrounding us, how would that many Chinese people survive in one area? Unless they were somehow immune to the disease or dropped into the country well after the threat was gone.”
“Maybe the biological agent was created to be ethnic specific. It does seem strange that so many Chinese randomly survived.”
“We did find their supply trucks. One was loaded with food, weapons, and basic supplies. The other held drugs.”
“Drugs? What the hell would they do with those? There’s no one to sell them to. And what would they get in return? Obviously money isn’t a factor anymore.”
“It’s strange all right, but one entire truck was packed to the roof with bags of powder.”
“What’d you do with it?”
“I set it on fire.”
Mark laughed.
“I did find a map, however. It had several areas highlighted, but the words were all in Chinese.”
“Any ideas?”
“Only guesses. The map could show where they were heading, or it might show areas where other forces were. Maybe that’s where the buyer was for the drugs. I don’t know. It’s all confusing to me. Maybe you are right. The drugs are what’s throwing me.”
“I guess that means sending out long-range patrols just to make sure no other group is heading this way.”
“Already on it. I’m sending a few men to check out the circled area southeast of here. That may tell us a lot.”
Mark didn’t speak. He waited for what he knew would be coming.
“We’re going to need a lot more recruits,” West said.
“I understand that. Just don’t come for our people. I will not dissuade anyone who wants to join, but neither will I encourage them. Leave them alone, and just as we have, I promise to come to your aid whenever needed. Deal?”
West nodded. “Deal.”
They stopped next to one of the jets.
“Any progress with these?”
“If we can find enough fuel, I think we’ll have some people ready to fly them. We lear
ned we can use commercial fuel, if necessary. The jets should make a big difference if we determine we’re really at war with someone.”
“I pray it never comes to that, but it’ll be nice to have them just in case.”
Mark stared at the machines for a few moments. Too much death. Too many unanswered questions. The violence had to stop sometime – didn’t it?
Ninety-Five
Back home the next day, Mark sat down with Doc, as they called Pam, in the barn away from everyone.
“Is there any way for you to determine what caused the mass deaths?”
“Not without a proper lab. Even then, I’m not sure. My experience with biological or chemical weapons is obviously limited.”
“I understand, but let me ask you this. Could a bug be engineered to only attack certain races?”
“I have no idea how far scientists have gone in that direction. What are you getting at, Mark?”
“The people we fought were one hundred percent Asian. Some looked Korean, most looked Chinese. However, they were not some foreign army like the general thinks. They were American or at least living in this country. There were no other races in their group. You know how hard it was to build our community this much. How did they happen to find more than fifty Asians in any one area? Also, look around. We have a few Hispanic people, and Lincoln is the only African-American. Even the Horde had few ethnicities. What would make them more susceptible than others? Was this a bio-engineered disease designed to eliminate everyone so only certain people were left?”
“You’re talking about global genocide.”
He shrugged. “I’m talking about a possible massive nationwide terrorist attack. But who is the initiator and who is the target? Is such a thing even possible?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I suppose anything is possible.”
“Can you do some research on this?”
“I doubt I could find out anything. My knowledge and resources are too limited. What are you hoping to learn?”
“I wish I knew. I guess the more we know, the better we can deal with whatever this is should it happen again.”
“Oh God, you don’t think …”
“That’s why I want this kept between us. If someone did do this on purpose, when they see how many of us are still alive, they might try again.”
Later, as the sun began its slide down the western sky, Mark looked around the dinner table. The other families had returned home. Those remaining he considered his family, blood or not. Regardless of what had caused the nationwide deaths, these people had been lucky so far. They were the random few who had survived the deadly event. He wanted to keep it that way.
He stood and waited until he had their attention. “I want to say how proud I am of all of you and how happy I am that we are all together. You’re a very caring and special group of people. When someone reaches out for help, you are there to do whatever you can. I hope we never have to deal with a situation like that again, but it’s good to know we will be able to if needed. On a much happier note, I want to officially welcome our new friends, Vince and Agnes, who will be staying with Lincoln and Jenny. Myron, and my daughter and son, Becca and Bobby. I’m pleased to have all you with us.” He laughed. “If we grow anymore, we’ll have to build a new house.”
“That’s all you, Mark,” Caleb said.
The others laughed. It was a glorious sound.
“Anyway, I just want to say thanks for being who you are. I consider us all family.” He lifted his water bottle in a toast.
Becca looked around the table as her father sat down. The voices around the table were loud and happy. For the first time since Bobby and she had started their journey, she felt at peace within her mind. A warm feeling spread inside as she watched her dad talk to Lynn. He laughed loudly at something she said.
Lynn turned and caught Becca’s eye. With a smile, she winked at Becca. Becca returned the smile. Lynn would never be her mother, but she was a good person. Becca liked her. Her mother would like her too.
She panned around the table from face to face, at the collection of people her father had drawn around him. They were all good people. She stopped at her brother. He was busy talking with Myron. Again the warm feeling passed through her. Was it because of her brother or was it Myron?
He was kind of geeky. He was at least three years younger than she was, and he wasn’t very coordinated. But didn’t that make what he’d done for her even more impressive? She smiled again.
Bobby looked at her. “What?”
She shook her head.
Becca was finally home.
Acknowledgements
As in all novels there are a lot of people to thank for their support, encouragement and knowledge. Even in a world outside the norm where I can make up my own rules there is still research that has to be done. I wish to thank Anthony Anderson of Radio Shack for his help with the radios.
To thank Cindy Turner, Electrical Department Manager at Menards for help understanding solar panels.
And, to thank Tech Sgt. Garrett Ebersole with the 180th Fighter Wing for his assistance in understanding jets and jet fuel.
The 180th Fighter Wing of the Ohio Air National Guard has a long and honored history and the people of Northwest Ohio are proud they are part of the community.
Last, I would like to thank EJ, Bill and Jayne of Rebel e Publishers for taking on this project and doing such a great job of making this thriller available for your enjoyment.
About the Author
Having spent 35 years as a teacher and 25 years as the owner/operator of an Italian Restaurant, Ray now spends his time, reading, writing, hiking, cooking, and playing the harmonica.
You can reach him at raywenck.com.
Also by Ray Wenck
Teammates, Teamwork, Home Team, Warriors of the Court, Random Survival
And for more from Ray Wenck …
Please turn the page for a preview of the next book in the Random Survival series, The Endless Struggle
Random Survival 3
The Endless Struggle
Ray Wenck
One
“Do you see them.” Caryn's voice was near panic, again.
“Shh!” Mel said in a hushed tone, but forceful look. “Get down and don’t move,” she commanded. “And don’t make a sound.” Her gaze held the tall blonds, until the woman nodded. Mel moved behind a large, old oak, crouched and scanned the long spans of open ground they’d just covered.
Both women fought to control their heavy breathing after the long run. Caryn pulled her knees up tight to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She lowered her head and leaned against the small birch she hid behind.
Looking through her small binoculars, Mel panned along the woods to the south. Something dark flashed between the trees. She spotted four more dark forms moving away from them and knew they had taken the bait. She relaxed and hoped Tara would be safe. The ache in her heart again made her wonder whether separating had been the right thing to do. But Tara had been adamant and was off before Mel could voice her concern or offer or an alternative plan.
Seeing Mel stiffen Caryn must have thought the men were coming for them. “Oh God!”
Mel heard Caryn’s cry. “Relax, she said, more forceful then intended. “I don’t see anyone. We might be okay.”
Caryn lifted her head. Tears filled her eyes. Upon seeing the welled eyes Mel rolled hers. God, the woman was so annoying. “Come on, girl, after all we’ve been through you have to be well past tears by now.”
“I can’t help it. I’m not like you.”
Mel bristled. She hated being termed different. “What’s that supposed to mean? Because I’m gay, is that what you’re saying?”
Caryn wiped a sleeve across her face. “No, that’s not what I mean … because you’re so strong, and, and brave. I wish I could be more like you. I hate being afraid all the time.”
Mel felt a little guilt seep in. For two weeks now, ever since she’d found Caryn cowerin
g in a basement, Mel had been riding her. She was too slow, too weak, too girlie, too wimpy, but Caryn was right, she was not like her. This high-bred suburban princess had probably never had to work for anything in her life. But Mel knew work … work of all kinds. But the work that had been the hardest and meant to most was the fight for acceptance and equality—and to Mel that fight was never ending.
She stood and walked to Caryn. Sighing, she sat in front of her, set her rifle on the ground and reached out, taking Caryn’s hands. “Look, Caryn, I’m sorry if it seems like I’m being mean to you, but if we’re going to survive we have to all be tough and help each other. If you’re afraid all the time and we have to watch out for you, you become a liability and put us in danger. You understand?”
Caryn’s tear streaked face lifted from her knees. Her red eyes looked on Mel. “Then what, you kill me?”
Mel dipped her head frustrated. “No, that’s never going to happen. What I’m saying is, if you don’t conquer your fears you could get somebody else killed. You don’t want that and we don’t want that.”
“But, how do I conquer them. I’ve never done the things you and Tara do. I don’t want to be a burden, but every time something happens, I freeze up.”
“I know it’s not easy, but fear can only control you if you let it. You have to force it someplace in your head where you can lock it away. I wish we had extra bullets we could spare to let you practice shooting, but we can’t afford to. Besides, the noise might draw unwanted attention.”
Mel stood to check the field again. “I think we’re safe. They're following Tara. But that might not last. We have to get as far away as possible, before they decide to come looking for us.” She reached a hand down and helped Caryn up, the heavy backpack the blond wore made the effort a strain. Since Caryn was always afraid, and not much use for defense, they had her carry the heaviest bag, so Tara and Mel could keep their hands and movements free. The two women stood close. “I promise Melissa, I’ll work on it. I don’t want to be trouble for you.”
