Deadfall

by L. Douglas Hogan

  Tonya’s eyes went back to the floor. It was apparent she was in deep thought. “Did you ever think the apocalypse would be like this? I used to think about crazy diseases escaping from the CDC, or a nuclear fallout with very cold temperatures.”

  “Eh, it could be worse. It could be better, too. I guess that leaves a little room for improvement and hope for the future.”

  “Hope for you, maybe,” Tonya said, being the realist she was.

  “Oh, c’mon, now. You’ve got hope for the future, too.”

  “Sure I do, if you’re talking about Darrick and Andy living on after me.”

  Curtis smiled. “Do you have any other family?”

  “I don’t know anymore. I used to. I have parents in New York. Or – I used to. Not sure anymore.”

  “Any siblings?”

  “I have a brother, but he’s a goober. He’d never be able to survive this. He’s a good man, just not cut out for a life without amenities.”

  Curtis knew Tonya was in bad shape. He could hear it as she struggled to formulate sentences. Her future looked the grimmest of them all.

  The sound of the motor vehicles was drawing closer. Curtis stood up, making his decision to risk exposing himself to danger in order to spot Darrick. He knew he couldn’t do it without Tonya’s help. He ran back to where Tonya was and helped her to her feet. “C’mon. I need you to ID Darrick. I don’t know what he looks like.”

  Curtis carried Tonya to the edge of the road, where they peeked up over the top of the culvert at the incoming motorcade.

  “I don’t see any Russian trucks,” Curtis said. “Only a few of our military and some civilian cars and trucks.”

  Tonya tried to stand up straight, but her back was failing her. “I can’t see them,” she said, in pain.

  Considering that the motorcade looked to be friendly, he made the choice to carry her out into the open so she could get a good visual.

  Several HMMWVs drove by, each loaded with Marines. It seemed like every one of them took notice of the two civilians standing on the side of the road. It wasn’t until the last of the vehicles drove by that one of the civilian trucks had familiar-looking passengers in the bed.

  “Stop the truck,” Darrick shouted. The driver didn’t hear his rear passenger. Realizing his voice went unheard, he yelled again, “Stop the truck,” this time punching the roof of the cab.

  Tommie didn’t recognize her, but it was his sister in the hands of a stranger standing alongside the road. The truck was coming to a stop when Darrick and Marcus jumped out of the slow-moving vehicle.

  Tommie watched in silence.

  Darrick and Marcus ran up to Tonya, oblivious of the stranger who was trying to help. “I’m Curtis,” the man said. “I’m guessing you’re Darrick and Marcus,” he said, giving her up to the armed men.

  “Baby, what are you doing out here?” Darrick asked her, taking her into his arms.

  “Pontybridge was attacked. We escaped. Curtis helped us.”

  “By who? Who attacked?”

  “It was the Enclave,” Curtis answered. They’ve been tracking you guys since the homestead.”

  “Who are you, and how much do you know about us?”

  “He’s a friend, Darrick. I already told you,” Tonya answered, frustrated that Darrick wasn’t hearing her.

  “Like she said, I’m a friend,” Curtis answered.

  Darrick and Marcus each immediately began to look around. “Where’s Andy and Carissa?” Darrick asked.

  “Did they survive the attack?” Marcus asked.

  Tonya and Curtis started looking around, too. Curtis ran for the culvert and looked in. “They’re not here. They were here not too long ago. They can’t be far.”

  Darrick carried Tonya up and out of the ditch. Marcus followed close behind with Curtis.

  Tommie was still sitting in the back of the truck when he caught a glimpse of his sister, Tonya.

  “Tonya?” he said.

  The voice was all too familiar to Tonya. Looking up, she saw her brother’s face for the first time in years. He jumped down out of the truck and ran for her. She tried to leave Darrick’s arms, but she was too weak to carry herself. Tommie caught her as she began to fall. “I got you.”

  Tonya embraced her brother. “How did you get here?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” he answered.

  “Nothing with you ever is,” she joked.

  “Watch over her,” Darrick said. “I’ve got to go find Carissa and Andy.”

  Darrick and Marcus boldly took off running down the road, toward Pontybridge.

  “Are you coming or what?” the driver of the truck called out to Tommie. The truck was now way behind the rest of the convoy.

  “Tommie, there’s problems in Pontybridge. They shouldn’t go there.”

  “Problems? What kind of problems?”

  “We left our homestead because of a large group called the Enclave. They followed us from there to Pontybridge. I’m sure everybody’s dead by now.”

  “Tonya, these are Marines. I’ve seen them in action. They do what they do and they do it good.”

  “I don’t doubt that, Tommie, but they’re severely outnumbered.”

  “By how many?”

  “If I had to guess – a couple of hundred.”

  Tommie’s knees got weak. “Here, hold her for a second,” Tommie said to Curtis, handing his sister off. “I’ve got to warn the others.” Tommie ran up to the truck that was waiting impatiently.

  “’Bout time,” the driver complained.

  “Listen,” Tommie replied. “We can’t go to Pontybridge. That woman there is my sister, and she just escaped Pontybridge. She said it’s been overrun by a large group called the Enclave.”

  “Jump in. We’ll kill ’em.”

  “You don’t understand,” Tommie said, trying to warn them. “There’s at least two hundred of them.”

  The driver of the truck was speechless.

  “Do you have a way to warn Commander Horowitz?” he asked the driver.

  “No. We don’t have comms,” he answered back. The driver looked at his passenger. “Well? What you wanna do?”

  “I didn’t come here to die,” he answered in the most rhetorical way possible.

  “Then it’s settled,” the driver said, looking back at Tommie. “Do your friends need a ride?”

  Tommie turned around and motioned for Tonya and Curtis.

  Darrick and Marcus were running toward Pontybridge when they saw two figures in the distance.

  “Andy?” Darrick shouted. The two figures had distinctive gaits that were easy for him to recognize. Also, one was shorter; one was taller. A dead giveaway that it was Carissa and Andy. As they closed the gap, it was obvious that the two figures were indeed who they thought they were, and they were walking toward them.

  In a matter of moments, they were reunited. Andy had a backpack full of medicine, which he never bothered to mention. Carissa gave Darrick a hug when he was done with Andy.

  “Where’d you guys go?” Darrick asked.

  “Apparently, Mr. Brave and Responsible ran back to Pontybridge and acquired some meds for Tonya.”

  “Meds?”

  “That’s what he said. I didn’t have time to question him about it, seeing as how I had to leave Tonya alone with Curtis. She was in very capable hands.”

  “Yeah? Curtis? What do you know about him?”

  “I know he saved our lives by helping us get out of Ponty.”

  Darrick sighed.

  Marcus held his peace.

  The truck that was carrying Tommie, Tonya, and Curtis pulled up next to them. It was the driver who spoke to Darrick first.

  “The guy in the back said there’s a woodland community not too far from here. I’ll give you a ride if you want one. Apparently there’s nothing but certain death in Pontybridge.”

  Darrick looked at Curtis and Tonya, who were now resting in the back of the truck. Considering the option, he turned and looked at Marcus. “F
ight or flight?”

  Marcus was confident. “Flight.”

  Carissa had already made up her mind. She was climbing into the bed of the truck and pulling Andy in with her.

  Looking back at Marcus, he said, “Flight it is.”

  Sixteen

  HOPE IS FOOL’S GOLD

  Pontybridge

  The Enclave completely gutted the station house and looted everything that could be carried. Choosing not to burn down Pontybridge Depot was strictly a tactical move on Rueben’s part. Knowing that the Mitchells were so close to being captured, he thought it best not to give away his position. The absence of smoke meant little when the sky was blanketed with crows. The omen of the Enclave’s presence was always visible in the skies above, for what looked like a mile. The birds were a dead giveaway. Rueben cursed the birds, then took notice of the sound of vehicles in the distance.

  “Tony,” he called out.

  There was no answer. He yelled again, “Tony?”

  Still nothing. “Betrayer!” he said, just under his breath. Turning around to inspect his numbers, he took a mental inventory of his army. He was devising a plan.

  The fact that one civilian vehicle and five or six guns were no longer tailing the Horowitz’s unit of Marines was of little concern. Even though the major knew the importance of numbers, he had little respect for civilians, particularly the kind with no military discipline or training. Horowitz’s mind was now set on capturing the load of weapons that Darrick told him was at Pontybridge. A haul that was desperately needed.

  As the Marines drew closer to Pontybridge, Horowitz noticed the sky seemed to have a dark shadowy haze just above their destination. He and his driver couldn’t help but try to focus their eyes on the moving black mass.

  “Driver, what are we looking at?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, sir,” was his driver’s answer. With their eyes now on the shape-shifting haze, they watched the sky as it grew closer and into focus. Their attention was instantly transferred from the sky to the road as a thud impacted the windshield. Startled back to attention by the impact, their eyes were now on the road.

  “What was that?” Horowitz asked.

  “I think it was a black bird, sir,” the driver answered, turning his attention to the side mirror to look for the dead bird.

  “Look out,” Major Horowitz shouted. The driver turned his attention back to the road to see a large dark-colored mass lying dead center of their lane. The driver jerked the Humvee to avoid impact, causing the vehicle that was traveling closely behind him to hit the mass.

  “Pull over here,” Horowitz ordered. The driver had little choice. The entire convoy was now coming to a stop.

  The driver of the second Humvee had come to a stop atop a pile of human corpses. Crows littered the south side of the highway.

  Horowitz looked to the north. Nothing. There were a few birds hovering overhead, but for the most part, the crows favored the south side of the highway. His mind rapidly began to play out reasons for such a display. Human remains. Crows on one side of the highway. Pontybridge is just ahead. This is an ambush!

  “Ambush!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

  A torrent of gunfire erupted from north of the highway as Marines and militiamen scattered for cover. A few Marines answered with a volley of their own as they returned fire with their .50-caliber machine guns. The enemy were guerilla-type fighters attacking from the wood line to the north. The targets were hard to acquire and even harder to hit. The Marines fired aimlessly in the direction of their attackers, but no sooner than one Marine would take control of the turret, he would get shot and be pulled out of the turret by another Marine, who needed to take over.

  The convoy threw itself into full reverse. Some of the Humvees that tried to retreat just rolled backward off course without direction; no doubt the drivers had been shot or killed. Others, who believed they were making progress in escape, soon realized they were surrounded. Scores of men made their way out of the forest and opened fire on the retreating Marines.

  Each Humvee with a turret in the top was armed with either a .50 cal or a Mk 19 grenade launcher. When the turrets began to swivel, their attackers broke their formation. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat sounded from the machine guns as their attackers were eaten up in the damaging impacts of the large BMG rounds.

  The Marines armed with Mk 19s were unable to be of much use. The minimum effective range of the grenade launchers was 1,500 yards, making their targets too close to be of use. That didn’t stop the die-hard jarheads from jumping out of the Humvees and answering with rounds from their M60 machine guns. The 7.62 mm rounds tore through their attackers’ offensive positions and gave them the edge.

  Horowitz was taking cover amongst the pile of bodies. The Humvee that rested atop the pile made a particularly good shield against his attackers. Normally, officers carried sidearms for their personal defense; however, as the situation dictated, he found himself shouldering a rifle that he’d grabbed from a fallen Marine.

  Analyzing the situation, he saw an opportunity to throw a shrapnel grenade at a group of attackers within range. Rather than shooting at them and causing them to split up, he hid himself and removed a grenade from his vest. He pulled the pin and cooked it for just a moment before peeking up over the hood of the Humvee to relocate his targets, and gave it a good toss. The grenade left his hand and he took cover again, waiting for the explosion. The men seemed unaware that a grenade landed at their feet. They were busy firing upon the Humvees when the grenade exploded, ripping the legs off of two of the men and disemboweling a third. The other two dropped, either dead or unconscious.

  Horowitz peeked again over the hood and saw his grenade had done more than good. It had completely neutralized his attackers, giving him the opportunity he needed to conjure up a strategy. More explosions followed as Marines threw their grenades into groups of assailants. The M60s were still doing their part as the machine-gun-wielding Marines constantly changed positions to set the M60s on the bodies and behind Humvees for ground cover.

  The scores of men who were originally running toward them from the forest turned into a handful of retreating survivors, each of them disappearing into the woods. Major Horowitz stood and shouted, “Another one for the history books, Marines!”

  The Marines returned a mighty shout. “Oorah!”

  Within moments, the grunts were returning to their vehicles. The surviving Marines separated into new fireteams. They needed to take as many Humvees as possible, so they broke down their ranks, collected their fallen, and left for Pontybridge, leaving only one HMMWV behind.

  After the vehicles pulled away, the crows descended to play their God-given role of scavenger to the ecosystem. The carrion left behind by the Enclave was a steady food source for the crows, and had been for some time. The highway was strewn with dead American flesh. The skittish birds pulled and plucked at the exposed sinew, their once large host of servers now food for the omnivorous winged raptors.

  The great supper was interrupted by the yelps of one man, his ears still ringing from the concussion of the frag grenade that dismembered two of his gofers. The disemboweling of a third saved his life. That man saved his life by unwittingly catching the fragments of the exploding metal. The concussion of the explosion rattled Rueben’s head enough to render him unconscious, but now he stood by himself. A lone remnant of the young empire he’d hoped to build.

  Nothing. Not one remains. Only I am left alive, Rueben thought. He looked around at the bedlam and couldn’t collect himself mentally. Nothing. Rueben was at a loss for words. Even thought escaped him. He walked over to the pile of dead Pontybridge men and sat atop their corpses against the Humvee. He surveyed his losses.

  After an hour of watching the carrion feeders eat his men, one word entered his mind.

  Mitchell.

  Expired Tylenol and aspirin were spilled out in the bed of the truck. Defeat was written across Darrick’s face as he stared down in disgust at what was the hope
of Tonya’s pain relief. Deep in his gut, he was trying his hardest to remain optimistic. It seemed like opportunity after opportunity turned into failure heaped upon failure. Nothing was working out, and Darrick could see it on Tonya’s face.

  “We got this, babe,” he said to Tonya. She was resting her back between his knees.

  Tonya didn’t believe her faith was misplaced. She knew in her gut that she would soon be gone, and her only care now was for Andy’s future and making sure Darrick would man up and be an example to Andy after she was gone.

  “Hon?” she said in her soft voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “We need to start accepting things for what they are.”

  The comment was a blow to Darrick. Immediately his eyes shifted to Andy. He definitely didn’t want him hearing their conversation.

  “You know I can’t just roll over. That’s not me.”

  “No, but it should be. This once, Darrick, it should be. The earlier you learn to accept and cope, the quicker Andy can get a foothold. He needs you. He needs you more than he ever has.”

  “I’ll always be there for Andy. You know that. But right now, you’re my main concern. Right here, in this moment, Andy’s fine and you’re ill. I’ve got to get you into those mountains. If they have something – anything to make you more comfortable.”

  Tonya cranked her head up the best she could to look into his eyes. She wanted to argue with him, but she didn’t have the energy or the willpower to see it through. She didn’t need to say anything. Darrick could read her like a book. He was done with it, but he wasn’t done with his mission.

  That evening

  6:43 p.m.

  The old 1980s Ford F-150 pulled up to a questionable-looking parking space at the edge of a wooded mountainside. The old welcome center that once accompanied the area was partially demolished, and the restroom facilities were burnt down to ash, leaving nothing but old plumbing. It might have been a welcoming site once upon a time, but the new world changed everything. Now, nobody knew what that old pile of debris was supposed to represent.