Deadfall

by L. Douglas Hogan

  Tonya’s eyes welled with tears. Her abdomen convulsed as she gasped for air. The truth of her condition was now a weight that Andy had to bear as well as the others. It was so very painful to hear him say such a thing, but also, there was a strange sense of comfort knowing that Andy was trying to be responsible. He was trying to be brave – to be a man.

  Carissa stood up and left the room, giving Tonya alone time with Andy. The two of them needed to be alone. Also, it was a segue for her to exit and avoid the conversation that Tonya had sprung on her.

  No way! There’s no way I can put her down like a wounded animal. I can’t believe she even requested that of me, she thought as she left the room.

  Andy stayed behind, now sitting at the foot of the bed. “Are you crying because you’re slowly dying?” Andy said.

  The comment shocked her. She couldn’t believe she had been so sloppy. Her mind wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. There was a time, she thought, when I would have managed my words better. “No, baby. I’m crying because you’re growing up so fast. Soon you’ll be a young man who’s watching out for your father. He needs you more than you know.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Was it my fault that Dad had to kill Grandpa?”

  The question intensified Tonya’s pain. Has he been carrying this burden? Will he blame Darrick if I say no? She tried hard to focus on her words. She didn’t need another mishap like what had happened moments ago. “Your dad did what he did to save both of you. Those bad men would have shot and killed all three of you. Your dad had to make a very tough choice. It’s those tough choices that keep us alive.”

  “But elder Mitchell isn’t alive. Couldn’t Dad have made a different tough choice?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t there. All I know is that he loves you very much. It’s because of the choice he made that you are here. With me. Now.”

  Andy bowed his head.

  “Is something else bothering you?” she asked.

  “I have a secret.”

  Several miles northeast

  “This is stupid,” Marcus said. He and Darrick were crossing the county on horseback. Being careful not to push their rides to exert too much energy, they took their time.

  “I know. It’s practically a suicide mission. But a deal’s a deal. We get in, steal the supplies, and get out. How difficult can it be?”

  “Let’s not forget, Rueben’s on our tail and he’s not a forgiving person. By the time we get back to Pontybridge, they may have already caught up.”

  “Devin said nobody could penetrate their security.”

  “Even if they don’t, we’ll still need to get back in to collect Tonya, Carissa, and Andy.”

  “I know. Let’s hope this doesn’t take much time. It was the only way to get Tonya medicated.”

  Marcus looked down. He was saddened that he had to say what was coming next, but he felt it had to be said. “Mitchell, you know we’re only postponing the inevitable, don’t you?”

  “What do you expect me to do, Marcus? Let her suffer?”

  Marcus saw it both ways. He couldn’t let her suffer, either, but to carry on like she was only slowed them down. He had no encouraging word to offer. No wisdom. No advice. Nothing.

  The two men traveled in silence for some time, with only the sounds of the horses hooves as they hit the graveled road beneath them. Just ahead, they heard the sound of running water.

  “There it is, Mitchell,” Marcus said, hearing the flow of the Savannah River they were told to be on the lookout for.

  Both men led the horses off the road and into the heavy foliage on the north side of their position. According to the instructions they’d received, the bridge that crosses the Savannah River was occupied by the Russian military.

  “This is crazy, this is crazy,” Marcus kept repeating. Each of them were leading their respective horses through a thick wooded area.

  “Relax and stick to the plan. At least we were equipped with these upgraded rifles and radios. We can communicate old-school now.” Steven had given them each an M4 rifle, flak jackets, and radios for the mission, and a military-grade knife. He knew they’d be back for Tonya, Carissa, and Andy. “We’ll lie low, cross the river, and watch them into the night. When we see a weakness, we’ll exploit it, grab the goods, don the uniforms, and cross the bridge back to Georgia.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “Just like Iraq,” Darrick joked.

  “As I recall, Iraq went badly.”

  “Yeah, but you had my back.”

  “There was also an ambush.”

  “Hardly comparable, Marcus.”

  “Let’s do this.”

  One mile east of Pontibridge

  The caravan was slow moving, like it was coming to a stop. Rueben occasionally grew impatient with the lack of progress and was about to head to the front of the group to give a motivational demonstration. His demonstrations normally involved someone dying. Just as his anger reached its peak, two trackers approached him from the front of the line.

  “Hey, boss. We stopped the line. We’re about a mile out from a fortress of some kind, and there’s two or three patrols just ahead of us that are watching the woods. They’re protecting an old train station of sorts, and there’s more armed guards on many of the train cars and the station itself. I thought you might want to know before we ran into some trouble.”

  “Are the homesteaders held up there?”

  “Hard to tell. We tracked them to that location, but the train tracks and the large gravel stones make it impossible to know without seeing them. We’ve been watching for some time, from a distance, and haven’t seen them. They could be there, but the people don’t look friendly. It’s likely they just headed east along the tracks.”

  “Get rested,” Rueben commanded the tracker. “I’ll take it from here.” Rueben rubbed his scruffy face and looked over at his confidant, Tony.

  Tony knew what was coming next, so he offered up his services ahead of Rueben’s request, knowing it would improve Rueben’s opinion of him. It may pay off down the road, he thought. “I can take a group of men with me ahead of the line and make contact with the patrol.”

  “Of course,” Rueben said, giving his blessing to a very nervous advisor. Just as Tony turned to walk away, Rueben’s voice called out, “And, Tony.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do be careful. I’m just starting to like you.”

  Tony caught his meaning. He turned away again and stepped off, clenching his eyes tightly, hoping Rueben wouldn’t call him again.

  The solo traveling stranger was on his knee, watching the conversation from a distance. Though he couldn’t hear their words, he knew there was a change of situation unfolding near the front of the caravan. Without alerting those nearest to him, he chose to move through the forest, using his environment as cover. He was careful not to lose visual of Tony.

  Tony moved up the caravan, handpicking men whom he wanted to follow him. When he had about twenty men selected out of the group, they followed him in the direction of Pontybridge. They traveled ahead of the group for some time until they came to a stop.

  “Gather round,” Tony commanded them. The men did as they were told, knowing the punishment would be a Red Circle meeting if they disobeyed.

  By this time, the stranger was moving, unseen and unheard, along the bottom of a lengthy crevice near Tony’s group. Using only the balls of his feet and watching where he stepped, he managed to get in close enough to hear what was being said. His only issue was he had to hug the wall of the crevice as tight as he could. If he were to lose his balance, he would surely fall and be heard. He had to remain motionless as the group of twenty adjusted their position to avoid being heard by the rest of the caravan. They were now standing directly over him. Panic and fear almost took the stranger. He closed his eyes and swallowed deep, hoping to remove any doubt that he might be discovered. One of the men was talking.

  “Okay, listen up,�
�� the speaker said in a soft voice. “I handpicked each of you because I know you’re not blathering idiots. We’re going to run a small mission, and what you see and hear will remain with us. Until we hear from Rueben, nobody speaks a word of it. Everybody understand?”

  The men acknowledged.

  “We’ve had trackers on them homesteaders all this way. They followed them to a place about a mile ahead, but we can’t get to the place without first confronting the patrol they have roaming these woods, also just ahead. Our job is to make contact with the patrol and find out as much as we can. What we want to avoid is having them get back to their camp and sounding the alarm that we’re here. We want to get the jump on them, right? So let me do the talking and follow my lead. When I open up, you open up. Understand?”

  The men again acknowledged.

  The men stepped off, giving the stranger in the crevice a chance to come down off the dirt wall. He survived. As quiet and speedy as this man was, he hadn’t lost his sense of mortality. That was a close one. Those guys are willing to kill people they don’t know to get to the Mitchells. I have two choices. Warn them or mind my own affairs. He climbed out of his hiding place and made his way through the woods. He chose to avoid everybody and continued on, minding his own business. As he moved ahead and left everything behind, his mind kept going back to that old glade in the woods.

  He stopped and reached into his pocket. The toy race car. It was a small item, but it was a big game changer. He put it back in his pocket and let out a sigh. He changed his course and headed for Pontybridge.

  Eleven

  NOTHING GOES AS PLANNED

  Old White Oak Sanitary Landfill

  Waynesville, NC

  Repurposed FEMA Camp, Region IV

  Tommie was walking along the property of the camp. He’d never seen so many dead people in one location. The remnant of Marines were busy gathering up what was left of their fallen. A few Marines were given orders to assist the militia in the collection and identification of the deceased civilians. He couldn’t help but think this could have been him if he hadn’t been slowed down and attacked by the Russians himself.

  Tommie looked up and saw Major Horowitz standing alone. He thought this might be a good opportunity to approach him and get some questions answered.

  “Major Horowitz, sir,” he said, approaching him. He saluted the major, who responded by grabbing him by the arm and throwing it back down to his side.

  “What are you doing? You trying to get me shot?” Horowitz grunted through his teeth. It was obviously a transgression the commander wouldn’t tolerate.

  “No, sir,” Tommie answered, very much intimidated by the man.

  “We don’t salute out here,” Horowitz said, looking Tommie up and down as if studying him. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. My name’s Tommie Ross. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

  Major Horowitz peered back at him. There was something about Tommie that the major didn’t like. It had nothing to do with his disheveled appearance. It was more like an annoying persona. He just carried himself like a spoiled man who was lost in a world he had no business in. “Look around, son. Do you see any cameras?”

  Tommie looked around. “No.”

  “Neither do I. You’re not an imbedded reporter, and I’m not here for an interview. Carry on.” Major Horowitz looked away and folded his arms behind his back.

  Now frustrated, Tommie looked around to see if he could find any other person who looked official. He saw Young standing over against a building with his Russian hostage bound in rope and sitting against the wall.

  Tommie bid Major Horowitz a good evening and approached Young.

  The Russian prisoner saw him approaching and said something in Russian, and it caught Young’s attention. Young looked at Tommie and smirked.

  “My pinko prisoner here says you have fear in your eyes.”

  Tommie looked at the Russian. The Russian smirked at him in a condescending manner and looked away.

  “Are you?” Young asked. “Are you afraid?”

  “A little, but I’m mostly hungry. I came here for food, but I found this instead.”

  No sooner than he had uttered the words, the light of a huge fire engulfed the night sky. It was the bodies of the deceased. A second flame ignited in the rear of the camp. The flame was large enough to be seen for miles. It might have been mistaken for the FEMA camp if not for the dancing shadows.

  “That’s our cue,” Young said, kicking the Russian. His prisoner stood up, and Young pushed him toward the vehicles.

  Conflicted about what to do next, Tommie felt compelled to ask the question at the forefront of his mind. “Where are we going?”

  “To South Carolina. To the next FEMA camp.”

  In his usual bothersome way, Tommie argued, “But South Carolina’s in the opposite direction that I’m heading. I need to get to Tennessee.”

  “Look around, dude! We’re not a shuttle service or a convenience store. Do you even have a weapon?”

  The question was rhetorical. This man seemed lost and out of place.

  “No.”

  “Then you’re of no use to us,” the man barked. He took another look at the raggedy-dressed man. “Look, mister. Those woods over there is Cherokee National Forest. That’s Tennessee. Maybe some living soul in those parts can help you out. Those Tennessee people are loyal to their own. If you’re lucky, you might survive an encounter.”

  Tommie had turned to walk away when he heard the man say, “Hey, scrub.”

  Tommie turned just in time to catch a packet of food that he tossed to him. It was warm like it’d been in the Marine’s cargo pocket.

  “Thank you,” Tommie said, leaving the area. As he passed the militia, they called to him. They were forming back up into groups and getting ready to leave. He walked toward the man issuing the call.

  “You comin’ with us?”

  “I would if you were heading to Tennessee, but unfortunately, you’re not.”

  “Not this round. We’re zigzagging the countryside. Evidently, the feds erected a few FEMA camps before the Pulse. Somehow they managed to keep it quiet. We’re not sure what’s going on, but it seems pretty sinister.”

  “Why the zigzagging?”

  “We’ve been able to resupply at most camps, but it seems the Russians are doing the same now. This one was picked dry. No food or water to be found. South Carolina’s next. After that Tennessee. It’s a distance thing. That’s why the major mapped it the way he did.”

  “How long do you think it’ll take to get to Tennessee?”

  “Hard tellin’. We’ve encountered quite a bit of hostility along the way.”

  His words stuck with Tommie. He’d seen enough hostility and would rather just avoid the Russians altogether. Doing it alone, he reasoned, was his best bet to draw the least amount of attention.

  “Thanks for the info,” Tommie said.

  “No problem. You going to join us or what?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I think my odds are better alone.”

  “Alone and unarmed?” the man said.

  “I guess that does dampen things.”

  “Alrighty then. Be safe out there. Good luck.”

  Tommie nodded to the man. The convoy was busy packing and getting ready to leave. He stood there and pondered his chances. He looked down at the food pouch he had in his hand. He held it up against the light of the camp and read the contents.

  Potatoes Au Gratin.

  Just as the vehicles started to roar, Tommie got nervous and looked back at the two large fires and how they were lighting the night sky.

  I hope I don’t regret this.

  Tommie ran toward the rear vehicle as they were driving away. It was a flatbed truck. It stopped to let Tommie in, then drove off.

  Gripping the packet of potatoes au gratin with both hands, he ripped it open and squeezed the contents into his mouth. The packet was the least favorite of any Marine, but to a
man who hadn’t eaten for a couple of days or more, it tasted like manna.

  Tommie dropped the empty food packet over the side of the truck and watched the Cherokee National Forest disappear into the background.

  Russian Garrison

  East of Pontybridge, South Carolina

  “This is quite possibly the dumbest thing we’ve ever done,” Darrick whispered, reneging on his statement to Marcus about relaxing.

  “I told you this was crazy,” Marcus whispered back. He looked over to Darrick. Both men were lying prone on their bellies, supported by their elbows as they closely watched for movement before them. Darrick had the binoculars, and Marcus wanted his turn. “What do you see?”

  Darrick handed Marcus the binos, figuring it would be more tactically proficient to do so. The plan was to remain silent. Undetected. Commandeer supplies and return. Alive. Marcus took his turn at watching the Russians. “What is this place?” Marcus asked.

  “It looks like an old manufacturing warehouse – on Russian steroids.”

  “I see three patrols, each patrol consisting of one armed soldier.”

  “What happened to two-man guard duty?”

  “I have no idea. We’re not talking about the US Marines, here. We’re talking about a Russian invasion force.”

  “How did we get by all this time without ever making contact with these guys?”

  “One of the guys at Pontybridge said they showed up more recently. So while you were tucked away on your daddy’s homestead, and I was with Rueben, the Russians were making their first appearances.”

  “Well, let’s see what patterns these goons make, and then we can make our first appearance,” Darrick said.

  Marcus handed the binoculars back to Darrick. “Hopefully the first of many appearances.”

  “What are you thinking?”