by Bowman, Dave
And Jack happened to know that adobe bricks had excellent sound insulation properties. The guys meeting in that fancy house might not hear gunshots some distance away on the interstate.
Down below, the remaining four guards ate packed lunches of sandwiches and packaged food.
Good.
The guard Jack would have to worry about the most was the closest one. The tall, wiry man stood behind a nearby building. He hadn’t sat down once. He paced back and forth, full of nervous energy. He scanned the area constantly. Jack had to be careful not to give his own position away.
Jack’s eyes darted to the stand of junipers along the edge of the highway, where he monitored two more guards. One was lazy and half-asleep, but the other was on high alert, clutching his rifle and studying the area.
The fourth was farther away, on the far side of the interstate, stationed behind an abandoned car beside the meridian.
Four guards. And not only would Jack have to get rid of them, but he’d also have to go down there and take a couple of their weapons. The magazines he’d found were of some help for his cause, but they weren’t enough. Not for what was coming after this initial confrontation.
And the only protection he had was a flimsy wooden outcropping at the edge of the roof. It covered him fairly well. His enemies wouldn't be able to see him clearly. But the outcropping didn't offer much physical protection. Bullets would easily pierce the flimsy wooden structure. If he was going to survive this, he would have to keep down.
The guard nearest him would have the best view of Jack's position. Jack planned to take him out first. Jack watched him now, pacing back and forth and munching on potato chips.
It was almost time for Jack to make his move.
The guards were distracted with their lunch. It would be easier now. Jack would have to keep this short – dispose of them, then use the access ladder on the back of the building to get to the ground level as quickly as possible. He would pick up the weapons from the closest guard, then he would clear the area.
Though the ten core members were blocks away, enjoying their lunch in the adobe house, the sound of gunfire would alert other, closer members of the group. No doubt there were several other checkpoints along the interstate. The sound of Jack's rifle – and the blasts from the guards as they would return fire – would send dozens more men running.
Jack would have to get out of sight before they arrived.
As soon as the first round fired, time would start ticking. He’d have only moments to finish the whole thing.
Over in the juniper trees, the lazy guard was chowing down on a sandwich. Even the guard on high alert had shouldered his rifle while he drained the last of his soda. On the far side of the interstate, the guard behind the car gave a quick look around before he began picking the lettuce off his sandwich.
Everything was riding on this moment. Somewhere in the gang's territory, locked away in one of their makeshift work camps, Naomi and Brent were being kept prisoner. They were being forced to work. All of their hopes of making it to safety in Texas were becoming distant memories. They needed him.
And somewhere in central Texas, Jack's wife needed him too. Perhaps she was struggling at that very moment, hoping against hope that her husband would make it home to her alive.
There was no room for mistakes.
Jack took a deep breath. He sighted the closest guard. Just as the guard made it to the end of his pacing loop, he turned and started moving away from Jack.
Jack steadied himself. His trigger finger began to tense. Then, sure of his target, he pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out through the sleepy, quiet town, its noise echoing between the buildings lining the interstate.
The guard stumbled forward a few steps, then fell to the concrete like a felled tree.
Jack focused on him a split second more, just enough time to send another round into the guy's back.
Keeping himself low, Jack swiveled the barrel toward the men in the junipers.
The standing guard had dropped his soda bottle and swung his rifle up to aim. He began to open fire on Jack. His aim was low. Jack used the opportunity to return fire.
Soon, the guard dropped his gun and fell to his side.
Two down.
The farthest guard began shooting as well. But his aim was way off. Jack stayed where he was and focused on the next target.
The slower guy in the trees had finally lifted his rifle. But before he could open fire, Jack hit him. The man lay sprawled on his back, immobile.
Jack turned his sight toward the man by the meridian. He shot off a few rounds, but his aim was off by several feet to the right. He hadn't adjusted for the effects of the wind across such a large distance.
Meanwhile, the guard's aim was getting better. Bullets whizzed by Jack's head, and Jack ducked down for a moment. Keeping below the outcropping, he inched over toward the side.
Then, he raised his rifle again. Doing his best to correct for the discrepancy in elevation and the wind, he adjusted his aim. He fired several shots toward the man, who had continued aiming at Jack's original position.
Finally, the guy yelled in agony. Jack fired off another round or two. Soon the guard was down, splayed out on the pavement below.
Jack took a breath. The first part was over.
Now, he would just need a quick look at the surroundings before heading to the ladder.
The two men in the trees were dead.
The first guard –
Jack swallowed.
The first guard was gone. He was still alive, as Jack could tell from the trail of blood leading away from the sidewalk. And the guard had taken his rifle with him.
Panicked, Jack scanned the area below. He pushed himself to his feet, ran to the opposite wall and looked at the area below.
Nothing. No sign of the first guard.
Jack had lost him. And any second now, more men would show up. Jack looked around frantically.
He had to get off the roof.
He ran toward the access ladder at full sprint. Once there, he dropped down to a crouch. Kneeling behind the wooden roof outcropping, he waited a moment.
He heard nothing, no movement or sound, save the pounding of his own heart.
Behind him, voices shouted from farther west on the interstate.
They were coming for him.
He dared to raise his head just a bit, just enough to see over the edge through his scope.
There was a flash of movement behind a garbage dumpster.
Jack aimed. But he was too late.
Off to the side, behind a parked car, another shooter that Jack hadn't spotted opened fire.
All at once, he was trapped.
The two shooters unleashed an onslaught of bullets toward the roof, sending bits of wood from the outcropping flying in every direction.
Jack flattened himself to the ground. The rounds were coming too fast. He was unable to return fire.
2
The Texas Hill Country - Sunday, 6:22 a.m.
Annie woke up shivering.
She looked over at Harvey. He was still asleep. Or unconscious, rather. Charlotte was sleeping in the passenger seat of the car.
Annie grabbed the pistol from her side and stood up awkwardly. Her muscles were tight from having spent the night sitting upright on the ground.
She had dozed off for a bit. She guessed she hadn't been asleep for long. The sun still hadn't risen, and she had already spent long hours keeping watch through the night.
She had managed to stay awake for most of the night, sitting in the grass and propped up against the car. Though Harvey was still tied up, he was dangerous. She had made the knots on his wrists and ankles tight, but she didn't trust the rope completely. Not after he had shot Charlotte.
She rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to warm her skin. The temperature had fallen overnight, and dew had collected on the weeds. The dampness of the early morning chilled her to the core.
Though sh
e had been tempted to spend the night inside the shelter and relative warmth of the car, it would have been too risky. If Harvey had woken up, he might have gotten free of his bindings. He had already tried to steal their Porsche. He had snatched the .22 out of Charlotte's hands and turned it against her. And then the worst had happened.
He had shot Charlotte.
Somehow, Annie had managed to stop the bleeding, but just barely.
Harvey would regain consciousness with a splitting headache, only to find himself tied up. He would be furious.
Annie shivered again. This time, she wasn't sure if it was the cold or the fear of another confrontation that made her pull the sweater tighter around her neck.
Still though, she hadn't shot him. And she had her reasons. Their car was hopelessly stuck in a muddy ditch. And he had mentioned something about a farm nearby. Maybe if he had a gun pointed at him – by someone competent with firearms this time – he would be willing to help them push the car out of the ditch. Maybe there was some equipment on the farm that could help them. Or maybe there were more people that could help push the Porsche out.
But he was still out cold. Annie thought he would have woken up by now. She knew she had given him a good crack on the head with a glass bottle, but she hadn't expected him to stay out this long.
She's squinted over at his dark shape in the grass nearby. Was he dead?
She inched over toward him, careful not to rustle the grass too much. It was still dark, so she had to get close to him to get a good look. Too close for her taste. She felt her heart quicken as she bent down to look at him. She gripped the pistol, her palms growing sweaty despite the cold.
He was still alive. His chest was rising and falling like clockwork.
Annie moved away from him again. She bent to pick up Harvey's cowboy hat from where she had left it in the grass. Feeling the stiffness in her back, she straightened up and perched the hat on her red hair. It provided at least a little warmth.
She would have to make a decision. Spend another day stuck in the car, hoping that someone would magically appear to help push them out of the ditch? Wait for Harvey to come to, then force him to help? Or try to walk the countless miles to safety at Jack's old house in the country?
She didn't like any of those options. Annie couldn't count on anyone to help them anymore. Not since the EMP and nuclear attacks had made everyone just about go crazy. The EMP – the electromagnetic pulse that had destroyed the electrical grid and rendered most vehicles useless – had started the mass panic, and the nuclear attack had sealed the deal. They were living in social collapse, and it wasn’t pretty.
No one could be trusted, especially not the lying attempted murderer drooling on himself in the grass. And besides, Annie doubted Charlotte could walk very far with her injury. Certainly not over a hundred miles to Jack’s family house.
It would be up to Annie to figure out how to get them home.
She moved toward the car and opened the passenger door, kneeling at Charlotte's side. Her friend frowned, then slowly opened her heavy eyes.
Charlotte blinked at her a moment, confused at first. Then everything sunk in all at once, especially the pain. She screwed her face up.
“Ow,” she murmured as she shifted in her seat.
Annie checked her wounds. There had been some seepage overnight. She grabbed her supplies – she’d have to change the bandages. But first, they’d have to do something for the pain.
It seemed to Annie that there was an art to pain management. If they stayed on top of Charlotte's pain, making sure it didn't get too out of control, they could manage it. But if they let the pain go too long, it was harder to bring it back down. Charlotte had already waken up three times in agony. The biggest problem was that the only painkillers they had were ibuprofen and vodka.
"Another swig?" Annie asked, reaching for the bottle of the alcohol.
"Sure," Charlotte said, grimacing. "Hair of the dog and all. I'm practically hungover from yesterday."
Annie helped her take a drink, then capped the bottle. Annie used some of their limited water supply to wash her own hands, then began changing Charlotte's dressings.
"Is the cowboy still unconscious?" Charlotte asked, flinching as Annie removed the gauze over the entrance wound.
"Yep," Annie said. "Out like a light."
"Good. But I still think we should shoot him."
"We may have to," Annie said, glancing over at him. She took a deep breath. "Listen, I'm thinking about going to check out that farm he was talking about."
Charlotte looked at her. "What, now? You can't leave me alone here!"
"I won't be gone for long. And I'll leave the pistol with you," Annie said. "If he wakes up and gives you any trouble, just shoot him."
Charlotte scoffed. "We both know how well that went the last time."
"Yeah, but now you'll be ready. Last time you hesitated. Now you're mad. I don't doubt that you have it in you to pull the trigger this time."
"Well, that's for sure," Charlotte said bitterly. "But why do you want to go on a wild goose chase after some imaginary farm, anyway? Harvey was probably lying about having a family farm down the road. He lied about everything else."
"True, but there's bound to be some kind of homestead around here," Annie said, frowning as she cut a new length of gauze from the roll. "Maybe they have some equipment that would help us. Or a couple of people to help push."
Charlotte laughed skeptically. "Or to shoot us both."
"I know it's risky, but I don't have a lot of options," Annie said. "You can't walk, can you?"
Charlotte shot her a look.
"I didn't think so," Annie said. "And we can't stay here for a week while you recover. We don’t have enough water or food. And what if another guy like Harvey shows up?"
Charlotte chewed on her lip. She sighed. "I guess you're right. You’re always right.”
Charlotte glanced at the pistol, and Annie knew she was thinking of their run-in with the psychopath, Dan, the other day. Annie had never wanted to get in Dan’s car. She had never trusted him. And in the end, her instincts had been correct.
“Just be careful, okay?” Charlotte pleaded. “And don't stay gone too long."
"I won't. And you'll have to stay awake while I'm gone. I need you to be alert in case he wakes up. Do you think you can do that?"
"Knowing that I'm alone with him," Charlotte jerked her head toward Harvey, "I couldn't sleep if I tried."
Annie nodded, then moved on to the exit wound on Charlotte's back. Charlotte groaned in pain as she bent forward.
Annie bit her lip, careful not to gasp at the gruesome sight and scare Charlotte. The second wound looked about as bad as the first. They didn't look infected, but they didn't look too great, either. Annie didn't want Charlotte to know, but they didn't have enough first aid supplies to stay there another day. They would soon run out of gauze and medical tape. And Annie didn't know what she'd do for her friend without those essentials.
Annie concentrated as she worked, trying to use the least amount of gauze possible to get the job done. Finally, she was finished. She brought Charlotte's shirt down and put her supplies away. She handed Charlotte one of her pills to treat her Addison's disease, then pushed herself to her feet.
Orange light was beginning to appear on the eastern horizon. Soon, the sun would be up.
"Do you need anything before I go?" Annie asked, dusting herself off.
"Can I have another granola bar?"
Annie smiled and grabbed her one from the back. "Here," she said. "And don't forget this."
Carefully, Annie handed Charlotte the .22. Charlotte took the gun and placed it gingerly in her lap.
"You remember about the safety?" Annie asked.
"Yeah, yeah," Charlotte said dismissively. She squinted down at the gun. "The safety is on now. I have to turn it off before I can shoot."
"Good," Annie said. She stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the scene. She grabbed a granol
a bar and tore into it.
"Go on," Charlotte said, meeting Annie's eyes and smiling wryly. "Let's get this over with."
Annie smiled, gave a quick nod, then spun on her feet. "I'll be back soon," she called over her shoulder.
Annie set out toward the west. Though nervous about leaving Charlotte alone, she was excited to cover new ground, to get away from the desolate strip of road they had been stuck on for a day and a half. Other than the semi-truck sprawled across the two-lane highway nearby, the surrounding area was empty. They hadn’t seen any houses for several miles before she’d lost control of the Porsche and swerved off the road. Annie hoped there would be a house nearby to the west.
Walking briskly, she covered the distance quickly. As she scaled a steep hill, she looked back at the Porsche one last time. On the other side of the hill, it was out of sight. Stretching ahead of her were pastures and fields, green from the rains the week before. It was mostly wild land in this part of the Texas Hill Country, mixed in with cattle ranches and farm fields. To her right were some limestone cliffs dotted with cedars. To her left was a fenced-off expanse of partially forested land. No farms in sight, at least not yet.
With the sun nearly at the horizon behind her, the sky was brightening, and the features of the land were starting to take shape. This was comforting to Annie, and she felt her shoulders loosen up a bit. She hated leaving Charlotte alone with Harvey. But she had faith that Charlotte could defend herself if necessary.
What worried her most of all was facing whatever might be waiting for her out in this wild country. And she was unarmed. If only they had two guns!
If only Jack’s gun hadn’t been stolen.
But that was behind her. She couldn’t waste the mental energy regretting the squatters now occupying her own home back in Austin. She had to keep looking forward. She had to figure out a plan for them. That was the only way they were going to survive.
She felt herself break into an easy jog. She hadn’t realized how cooped up she had felt the past few days. First, hiding out in Dan’s house, then keeping vigil at Charlotte’s side. Annie had felt a bit stir-crazy with all that sitting around. Now it felt good to be moving, her lungs and her legs working hard. She ran faster, pushing herself to go up and down the hills one after another. The faster she ran, the sooner she would find a solution to her impossible predicament.
