South of Boise, Idaho Republic of Cascadia
“Which way?” John said. They were stopped at a tee in the road. Left took them to Highway 95 and right to Highway 55. Both routes took them north to McCall, but one was shorter than the other. However, the shorter route took them through more of the city.
Gordon was impatient. They had made good time, and if the weather held, they could be home in four to five hours. He sat looking into the black either way. So strange how dark things were with no city lights or electricity, he often thought. “I just want to get home; take the 55.”
“Okay,” John said and turned right.
The dim headlights beamed down and a sign caught Gordon’s eyes.
John also saw it. “Hey, that handmade sign has your name on it.”
It was the sign Samantha had made months ago in the hopes Gordon would see it and follow. He did and it led him to Eagle’s Nest and his family. His brother, Sebastian, had also followed the signs and it resulted in a homecoming for the entire family.
Gordon wondered how his old neighbors were doing. He thought about stopping, but doing so would take time, and for him that was a precious commodity. He pushed the idea out of his mind.
When a second sign appeared further down the road, his curiosity grew more. The people of Eagle’s Nest were good people. He wondered how their summer went and if things had turned out for them.
John made a left and got on Highway 55.
The abandoned vehicles that had riddled the highways for months now were beginning to look weathered. Tall grasses grew out of cracks and crevices, and leaves, trash and debris covered untouched parts of the road like a blanket. Within years large parts of the road would just vanish; they would be reclaimed by nature.
John weaved in and around the old cars.
The dim headlights were inadequate and made it difficult to see far ahead. What also didn’t help were the frequent turns.
Gordon was always ready for someone to jump out at them at any moment and ambush them.
An orange glow appeared in the distance just beyond the horizon.
“You see that?” John asked.
“I sure do.”
“From the size of it, that must be one big fire,” John commented.
“Yeah, let’s stay clear of it too,” Gordon said.
“I’m a risk taker not an idiot; of course I’ll steer clear of it.”
“Hey, pull over, I’ve got to take a piss,” Gordon said.
John found a clear shoulder and slowed down to a full stop.
“Kill the lights and engine,” Gordon ordered.
John did as he said. “Are you going?”
“Ssh, listen,” Gordon replied.
Both men sat in the complete darkness and allowed their ears to adjust to the quiet. The steady wind whipping had dulled his hearing, so he wanted to acclimate.
Their ears began to pick up sounds, but the one that alarmed them was coming from the large fire in the distance. Screams and cries echoed in the night sky.
Just above a whisper, John said, “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know, but now I’m curious,” Gordon said, getting out and stepping away to go urinate.
“My jaw is, like, frozen. It’s hard to talk,” John said, massaging his jaw and mouth.
Gordon climbed back in and asked, “Do we have a map?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm, from the looks of it, the fire is around Eagle.”
“That’s the town you guys lived in for a bit, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Gordon, do we really want to go check this out? It may not be the best idea to veer off course,” John suggested.
“I know I have a history of doing shit like that, but this is more for recon. What if that’s a military unit of Conner’s or some sort of rogue army marching north or a large band of marauders like the Villistas? We need to know if they’re heading north, we need intel,” Gordon said, making a strong case. The Villistas were a former cartel that had become the guerrilla army of Pablo and his Pan American Empire.
John sighed and said, “God, why are you so right?”
“Always a jokester.”
“No, I’m serious, I want to argue against it, but we do need to see what’s going on.”
“Fire it up, let’s go,” Gordon said.
Eagle, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia
When they were within a quarter mile of the massive blaze, John pulled the car off the highway and parked it behind a large grove of trees.
The plan was to travel by foot and take positions on a large hill that overlooked the area.
The air had grown even colder.
Gordon’s face and fingers were so cold it inhibited some of his motor skills.
The cries and screams were accompanied by cheers and roars of laughter.
The glow in the sky was bright, enabling John and Gordon to see each other clearly. Near the top, they finished the rest of the trip by low crawling until they crested the hill. Below was a small valley that ran long ways east to west and was surrounded by large hills on all sides. Directly in the center was a massive bonfire, it had to be the largest single blaze Gordon had ever seen. The wood, mostly full trees, was stacked twenty feet high and the circumference was over thirty feet. The heat close to the fire had to be intense because they could feel its warming effects on the top of the hill. Circling the fire were large posts with people tied to them, all facing the enormous fire. Their moans and cries carried upwards.
All Gordon could imagine was these people were being cooked alive as some form of torture.
A large crowd was to the far right of the valley. They were surrounding a small pit where two people were fighting.
John pulled out a pair of binoculars and zoomed in. “Holy shit, it’s like a gladiator show.”
“Fucking animals.”
“Whoa,” John said, followed by the loud reaction of the crowd; some cheered while others booed.
“What?”
“One guy just cut off the head of another. He’s now holding it up.”
“How many do you count?” Gordon asked.
“Um, a ton.”
“How many?”
“Oh, fifty people cheering and watching like a pack of undisciplined voyeurs.”
“How much ammo do you have?”
John put the binoculars down and looked at Gordon. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t have visions of riding in there and saving those poor victims, though I would if I had my army. I’m just making sure we’ll have enough ammo if those people come after us.”
“Good, because attacking them will result in us ending up in the pit,” John quipped.
“Who do you suppose they are?” Gordon asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t want to find out. Let’s just get the hell out of here before something happens.”
Gordon scanned the area and got a good headcount. Whoever they were, they weren’t human to him. Anyone who could enjoy watching people die like that deserved nothing but the same.
A woman screeched, drawing John and Gordon’s attention to the pit.
“Please, no!” she begged as they pulled her from a corral and tossed her in the pit.
Another woman was taken from the corral and also tossed in, but she didn’t go easily, she kicked and fought, but it was futile. When she hit the bottom of the pit, the other woman, who was younger, helped her up.
A man approached and tossed in two hatchets. “Pick them up and fight!” the man ordered.
“No, I will not fight my daughter!” the older woman who had resisted declared. She kicked the hatchet away from her.
The man turned and pointed to the corral.
Several men grabbed a small child no older than twelve.
The intense scene had John and Gordon on edge.
Gordon hated watching; the urge to do something burned inside him.
The boy was brought
to the edge of the pit and the man who was the ringleader put a large blade to his throat. “Fight or I kill him right here.”
“Don’t you hurt him. He’s my grandson!” the older woman screamed.
“Motherfuckers,” Gordon grumbled. The dilemma was impossible to fathom, he thought. They were having a mother and daughter fight to the end, and if they refused, they’d kill the boy who was the son and grandson to the women.
“Fight!” the man ordered.
“John, we can’t just watch this shit and do nothing,” Gordon said.
“I fucking knew it,” John complained.
“You’re telling me you can walk away after seeing this shit? That’s what was wrong with our society before, too many lookers and not enough doers. We’re not those type of people, we don’t watch others get hurt because doing so makes you just below the bully or attacker, and in my eyes you’re a scumbag.”
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t, but if we had just pressed north, we wouldn’t know this shit was happening and we’d be that much closer to home.”
“But now we know what’s happening,” Gordon said.
“Only because you fucking insisted,” John angrily replied.
“You’re pissed off at me?” Gordon asked.
“Yeah, a bit, because I’m like you, I can’t watch and do nothing. You brought me here and now I have to act.”
Gordon double-checked he had all of his magazines and said, “I’ll start on the right, you on the left, we’ll meet in the middle.”
“Fine,” John grumbled.
“I’m going to go right a few hundred feet so we’re not on top of one another,” Gordon said, then rolled back. As he was getting to his feet, a gunshot cracked not far away. Gordon listened and swore it came from the far end of the valley. He ran back up the hill and jumped down.
John’s rifle then came to life.
Both the prisoners and their captors began to scream and run in all directions.
The shooter across the valley shot again and again and again.
Now Gordon knew where they were, not from the sound but from the muzzle flash.
“John, heads up, opposite hill from you, at one o’clock,” Gordon informed him.
“I see, but I think they’re on our side. They’re tagging those assholes down there.”
Gordon got behind his rifle and aimed at the target-rich environment. But while there were many to shoot, the challenge was they were all moving at a breakneck pace for cover. He found a man to the far right aiming towards John. He took aim and began to squeeze.
A gunshot cracked from the far hill.
The man he was aiming at was struck in the back and it exited his upper chest. A spray of blood followed the bullet as the man crumpled to the ground dead.
“Damn, they’re a good shot,” Gordon said as he looked for a new target.
John was squeezing a round off every ten seconds and hitting three out of four of his targets.
Gordon hadn’t yet taken a shot. He’d wanted to shoot the ringleader, but that target was also gone, shot by the stranger. He heard the sound of a truck and looked further to his right; there he saw a group of men climbing in the bed of a pickup truck. “You’re not going anywhere, motherfuckers,” he said and squeezed off half a dozen rounds into the open bed, hitting the men. The truck sped off but soon veered hard to the left and crashed after the unknown shooter took out the driver.
Gordon couldn’t believe how effective they were at killing these savages. By a rough count twenty were down, but there were still thirty left.
All three took one well-aimed shot after another. The captors were running but couldn’t hide as their bullets rained down on them. It was like shooting fish in a barrel, Gordon mused as he changed a magazine and went back to firing. With each passing second the availability of targets grew less and less until they were all gone.
“I think that’s it,” Gordon said.
“I agree, oops, hold on, right…”
CRACK.
The unknown shooter fired and hit the lone survivor through the hip. The man tumbled to the ground and cried out in pain.
“He’s all yours!” a woman yelled from the hill.
So the unknown shooter was a woman, very impressive, Gordon thought. But that voice, did he know her?
A group of prisoners charged the wounded man, carrying machetes, axes and knives.
He begged for mercy, but none was shown.
They began to beat, chop and slice at him.
Gordon took inventory of the kills and counted fifty-two. The prisoners were safe and not one was hit by their accurate gunfire.
John called out, “Who are you?” His voice echoed off the hills.
No reply.
“Thanks!” John yelled.
Still no reply.
“I don’t think she wants to talk,” John said.
“Maybe she’s shy,” Gordon joked. His heart was beating fast and his adrenaline was racing. He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but John would understand. “That, my friend, was…”
“Crazy?”
“I was thinking more like fun, or is that wrong?”
“Not when you’re taking out scumbags. Then it’s fun.”
“Should we go help them down there?” John asked.
“I think we’ve done enough. Let’s get back on the road.”
They got up, dusted off, and headed towards the Jeep.
The dog began to bark then fell silent.
“I think someone’s at the Jeep,” Gordon said and began to sprint.
John was right behind him.
When they reached the Jeep, the dog was gone.
“Well, the Jeep is here, but the dog is gone,” John said. “Come here, girl, where are you?”
Gordon whistled but nothing, no dog.
John walked around, but there wasn’t a sign of the dog or anyone. “Damn. It’s too dark.”
“That’s why we have flashlights,” Gordon said, turning his on and directing the beam towards the clump of bushes and out towards the rolling hills. He then looked around just outside the Jeep for any signs of blood. He shined the beam near the right rear tire and paused. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The damn tire is flat.”
John jogged up.
Gordon was a bit suspicious and put the light on the other tires but found them fine.
John knelt down and found the puncture in the side wall. “Yep, we’ve been sabotaged, and I’m guessing it was our little female friend.”
Gordon flashed the light inside the Jeep and found everything there except a box was open. Gordon looked inside and said, “Water is missing and so is my Chef Boyardee. She took my Chef Boyardee!”
“Just shut up, this whole thing was your idea. You’re upset she took nasty canned food? The bitch took my dog.”
Gordon shook his head, frustrated by the setback but also amused. His eyes caught something under the windshield wiper. It was a note. He grabbed it and began reading.
“How sweet, she left a fucking note?” John groaned.
“Ha, so funny.” Gordon laughed.
“You seriously think this is fucking funny? It’s not, Gordon, it’s bullshit. We pull off to help people; then our vehicle is disabled and my dog is stolen!”
“It’s only funny because it’s so ironic, that’s all. Maybe I’m tired, I tend to get a little punch-drunk when I am. Plus your dog wasn’t stolen. That dog weighed like fifty pounds, she just doesn’t have any loyalty, sorry to break the news to ya.”
John grumbled under his breath and sat down.
The note read, ‘Thanks for helping and the food. Sorry about the tire, but I don’t trust anyone. And the dog is super sweet, I promise to take care of her. – Nemesis’
“What does it say?”
“She calls herself Nemesis. What kind of name is that? She must think she’s some sort of superhero. The world ends and people suddenly fashion themselves as caped crusaders…an
d she promises to take care of the dog.”
“What a pain in the ass.”
Gordon crumpled the paper and tossed it. “It sure is. Say, where’s that motivational speaker guy who got me all pumped up earlier?”
“He’s pissed because someone just made his life harder and took his dog.”
Gordon couldn’t hide that he was sort of giddy. It was a strange reaction for him, but he wasn’t going to fight it. Practically speaking, they had a spare tire, so all this little adventure cost them was a bit of time, a little ammunition, water and his beloved Chef Boyardee. Killing those people wasn’t necessary to him personally, but having done it filled him with pride. They had rid the world of some very bad people. Who knows, he thought, if they hadn’t killed them, those people might have ended up in McCall.
John grunted and cursed as he prepared to jack the Jeep up.
Gordon took in the moment because he knew it wouldn’t last, and more than likely, speaking from experience, of course, he’d be faced with something horrible and quite possibly tragic.
NOVEMBER 3, 2015
“We have to distrust each other. It is our only defense against betrayal.” – Tennessee Williams
Cheyenne, Wyoming, United States
“Mr. President, the vice president has arrived,” Conner’s executive assistant told him, peeking her head in his office.
“Excellent, get him in here right away,” Conner replied. He walked away from a box he was loading to greet his old friend.
Cruz stepped inside the room, stopped and put his hands on his hips. “No, no, no, this color will not do!” he joked.
Conner laughed and said, “Don’t worry, they have a gallon of periwinkle downstairs with your name on it.”
“That’s perfect!” Cruz laughed.
Both men embraced.
“So good to see you, my friend, so good,” Conner said, patting Cruz on the back. He stepped back and looked at Cruz. “Are they feeding you guys too much down there, or are you pregnant?”
Blood, Sweat & Tears: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 5) Page 18
