by John Grit
“We’ll have to take turns watching them.”
Nate sighed. “Yes. One will sleep while the other watches.”
Brian stood. “Let’s go. We can’t see anything from here.”
~~~~
Rain drops the size of quarters hitting Nate’s face woke him. He opened his eyes, only to be forced to close them again. He sat up and put his boonie hat on to shed rain. He saw Brian who looked back at him and put a finger to his lips. Nate grabbed his rifle and got to his feet. He saw that the woods were just turning from black to gray and the sun was about to rise over the horizon.
“They just woke up,” Brian whispered. “They’ve been talking, so there’s more than one. I heard two voices so far. Both men.”
Nate put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Good work. You were supposed to wake me several hours ago.” He kept his voice low.
“I was okay, and you needed the rest.”
Nate appraised the scene. “Well, get your poncho out and go to sleep. You wake up to shooting, it will be them dying.”
Brian did as he was told, curling up with his carbine under a magnolia tree not ten feet away.
Heat and mosquitos woke him. He opened his eyes and saw his father standing in the exact spot he had been when Brian went to sleep. Judging by the position of the sun, it was midday. He sat up, stretched, yawned, and then got to his feet, keeping bent over. After shedding his poncho, he grabbed his canteen and took a drink then grabbed his carbine and joined his father.
“They have not come out,” Nate said.
Brian’s eyes scanned the scene. “Yeah, I figured that. They’re not dead yet.”
“They’ll come out. We have all day and all week.”
“And all year,” Brian added.
The day dragged on. Both father and son were hungry, but did not want to bother with preparing something. At any moment, they may have to kill. The thought encouraged them to ignore their growling stomachs.
As Nate prepared to remind Brian again how he should be watching the woods behind them and let him watch the bunker, the murmuring of low voices inside the bunker grew loud and drew his attention.
“Get your lazy ass out there and get some more firewood,” someone yelled.
The bunker door opened and a man in his late twenties appeared.
Nate had his rifle ready. “Do not shoot. We need them both outside.”
“I know.” Brian clicked the carbine’s safety off. His eyes became slits. Hate hardened his face.
A man’s voice from inside the bunker yelled out. “Did you check to make sure no one was around before opening the door?”
The man at the door kept walking. “Of course. There’s no one out here.”
When Nate’s friend built the bunker, he included many security measures, one of which was a five-foot-tall wall across the front of the entrance, making it necessary to turn at a right angle when entering or exiting. The man walked around the bermed wall and turned to the firewood pile under a tarp. Halfway there, he stopped and headed back. He yelled at the open door to the bunker. “I forgot the ax. Hand it to me over the wall, so I don’t have to go all the way back around.”
“Just grab some small pieces,” the man inside yelled back.
“We used all of the smaller pieces that will fit in the stove cooking breakfast.”
A man materialized from out of the shadow of the bunker’s interior. He was a few years older than the first man and a lot larger. He reached over the wall with an ax.
It was an easy shot at fifty yards. Nate’s rifle boomed, and the man dropped out of sight, along with the ax. Nate fired again before the younger man could react, and he too fell. He lay on the ground, breathing but not trying to get up.
Someone fired out of a loophole. Nate saw the rifle muzzle poking out and fired into the bunker through the loophole. A high-pitched voice screamed. The shooting stopped.
“Time to relocate,” Nate whispered. “We will let them bleed out.”
More shooting erupted while they were repositioning. They kept low, crawling along the ground, staying behind cover.
After settling in a good hiding spot, they watched, listened, and waited. The man on the ground made a wet sucking sound as he tried to breath. Nate glanced at his son’s face and saw that it bothered him, despite his hatred of the killers. He sighed and put a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “He’s out of it, anyway.”
Brian’s eyes flared. “I hope he’s hurting.”
“Well…keep your head on straight. It’s not over.”
Brian nodded and kept his eyes sweeping the woods on his side.
They heard no sound from the bunker. All they could do was wait.
Someone in the bunker started crying. It sounded like a woman. She yelled out, “Shaun! You hurt bad?”
“Shaun!”
She got no answer.
Another volley of rifle shots rang out.
It was the same loophole she shot from before. Nate took careful aim and shot into the bunker through the loophole.
Brian fired two shots into the open doorway, but his shots went high. Lying on the ground, and being forced to shoot over the wall, he could do no more than waste ammunition. In frustration, he yelled, “You murdered our friends. Now it’s time to pay. Did you thi—”
Nate’s callused hand covered Brian’s mouth. “Not another word!” Nate whispered in his ear. “We have to move again, thanks to you.” He took his hand away. Follow me. Stay low. That means crawl.”
Brian’s face told Nate he was angry, but he did as he was told. They moved more to the left front of the bunker and waited.
Sunlight reached farther into the doorway as the day grew older and the sun inched across the sky. Nate waited patiently for a shot.
The bunker door swung closed by four inches, then stopped. Nate knew she was trying to get the door closed, but the dead man on the floor was in the way. He readied himself for a snapshot. A flicker of movement, a flash vision of her head as she bent down to grab the dead man to move him out of the way. Nate squeezed the trigger. He thought he saw her head explode, but it was just a ghost of an image in his mind. He could not be certain.
After more than an hour, Nate decided to move in. “Cover me. This isn’t going to be fun. I doubt there are any more, but it’s only our life at stake.”
Mel had designed his retreat well, leaving no blind spots for anyone to sneak up on the bunker. Death could explode from anyone of those loopholes, and Nate knew it. He looked at his son. I’m not leaving him alone in this world. “We’ll wait.”
Brian looked back at him from where he lay and nodded.
The sun dropped behind them and below the tree line. Day faded into twilight. Nate backed off into the trees, took his pack off, and got out a pair of dirty socks. A search of the surrounding area netted him a rock of the proper size. He put it in the sock. He always kept a small can of lighter fluid in his pack for starting fires. The can and a cigarette lighter were put in a jacket pocket along with the sock, so he could reach it quickly.
“Brian.” Nate motioned for him to come closer. “Leave your pack here and listen carefully.”
Brian slipped his pack’s shoulder straps off and let it swing off him and land near his father’s. “You still mad at me?”
Nate’s face softened. “No. Keep your mind on staying alive.” He put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “We’re going to finish this in a few minutes. When I throw a burning sock into the bunker, I want you to shoot into the doorway twice. You understand? Just two times, then stop and lay flat on the ground.”
Brian nodded in the dark of the woods.
“If you shoot more than twice, you will kill me, because I will jump up and roll over the wall and run into the bunker after that second shot.”
“Two shots,” Brian said.
“Also, keep your eyes and ears working. There might be more than the woman in the bunker. I’m saying there could be more out here in the woods, so do not assume the threat is onl
y in the bunker.”
Brian nodded again.
“Let’s go. Stay alert.”
They moved through the woods, slow and quiet, keeping in the shadows.
Since there was no way he could sneak up on any alert person in the bunker, it wasn’t dark enough yet, Nate kept behind cover as long as possible, sprinted forty yards, then dropped and rolled until he was up against the bermed wall in front of the open door. No gunfire. That’s encouraging.
While on his knees to keep low, he got the sock and lighter fluid out, soaked the sock, and lit it. He then swung it over the wall and through the open door. It hit something inside, sounding to Nate as if it knocked a can or metal cup off the table. Brian fired two quick shots. Nate jumped up, his rifle shouldered, aiming through the doorway. The fire lit up the bunker’s interior. He could not see anyone inside but the dead man, who must have managed to crawl a few feet before passing out, his feet still in the doorway. He did see crimson brain matter on the floor that he was sure had to be the woman’s, the only one he might have shot in the head.
There could be someone standing behind the door, so he rolled over the wall, landing on his feet, and dove through the doorway, landing on his back with his rifle aimed at the front wall. He swung his rifle to the other side of the door, his eyes looking over the sights. He found only the woman. She lay on the floor. The door hid her head from view, so he kicked it, but it was already against the man’s body and would not move. A shot into her chest made sure. He slid on the floor until he could see her ruptured head. It was then he noticed for the first time she was pregnant. If you had asked for help, you would be alive now.
Nate swallowed, got up, and put the burning sock out. “It’s over.”
He went to the door and motioned for Brian to come on. “It’s over.”
Chapter 9
Brian kept watch while Nate dragged the bodies out of the bunker. They locked the door and spent the night in the woods. The smell of blood was too strong for them until they had a chance to clean up the mess, and that would have to wait. Many graves had to be dug. He insisted Brian not look while he carried all of their friends to their graves. He did not want him to see the condition of their bodies. Though Brian had seen plenty of dead people, these were friends. Only after Nate had them buried under a few inches of dirt, did he allow Brian to help. Nate felt that they were more than friends. They were family, and he knew Brian felt the same. He drew a diagram on paper, showing who was in each grave. They planned to make markers later.
After the job was done, Brian, who had cried the whole time without a word, looked up at his father and said, “I’m tired of losing people. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t see any point in living like this.”
Nate’s face was as wet as Brian’s. “I know. I’m tired too. But we do have each other.” He dropped the shovel and held his son. “It will get better someday, I promise.”
“Even if it does, it’s too late for them.” Brian picked up the shovels and walked away, heading for the bunker. He had his carbine slung on his back. When would they ever feel safe enough to leave their guns in the bunker while they worked? When would they ever feel safe enough to go home to their farm?
There was no way to understand what happened, but Nate surmised the three somehow surprised the women during some incident that caused them to let their guard down. He thought of many scenarios that might have provided an opening for the men to take advantage of and move in for the kill. Carrie had killed one of them with a knife and escaped with his rifle. He believed he knew why he let her get that close. More than likely, he was forcing himself on her. The attack was enough to send her over the edge. Everyone knew she had been put through hell and was on the edge of sanity. This last horror was the final blow. Nate knew he and Brian both would spend the rest of their lives regretting staying away for so long. Thinking it best for both of them to stay busy, he had Brian help him clean the bunker. It was a mess, and it gave them a chance to talk about what they should do next.
Brian pumped water to clean the bloody floor. “I guess we have plenty of food now, with just us to feed.”
“We’re back to two people providing security twenty-four/seven. That’s going to get old fast. We have to sleep, and we have to work, not just stand guard.”
“Yeah,” Brian looked out the door, “a lot of things got old a long time ago. I guess we can’t raise a garden now, not unless we want to take a chance on winding up like them.”
“We will talk more about that later. Let’s get this blood up and leave the rest. I want to drag those killers farther away so we don’t have to smell them.”
Thirty minutes later, Nate grabbed a rope and they locked the door behind them. “Look for a pole we can use. We’ll tie the rope to one of them and the other end to a pole, so we can both pull.”
“We’re not going to bury them.” Brian’s face was distorted with hate. “They don’t deserve to be buried. Let the bears and hogs and buzzards have them.”
Nate found a suitable pole left over from tornado debris. “We don’t have time to bury them. I just want them far enough away we don’t have to smell them.”
He saw something in Brian’s eyes when he looked up from tying the rope on the woman. “Turn away. There’s no need for you so see her. I’m the one who killed her.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Brian said.
“Just the same, keep watch for trouble. Ignore her. She’s no danger.”
They spent two hours dragging the bodies into the woods. All of them were emaciated, and that made their work easier, but the job was still laborious.
With the last one in tow, Brian was losing his patience. “These bastards are still causing trouble for us, even after they’re dead.” He stopped pulling on his end of the pole because a tree was in his way. He took the opportunity to mop sweat off his forehead.
Nate yanked on the rope and pulled the man around the tree.
When the man’s body went by, Brian kicked at it. “You son of a bitch.”
“Hey. Get up here and help me.” Nate tried to read his son’s face. “He was a murdering bastard. He was a son of a bitch. But now he’s dead. He’s paid up here on this earth. The rest is between him and God.”
Brian almost snarled his words. “So we should respect their bodies? They’re just dead meat.”
The father looked at his son with sadness on his face.
The son saw it and looked away. “I’m all right. Just mad.” He took his end of the pole in his hands. “Let’s get this over with. The hogs and bears are hungry.”
Twenty minutes later, Nate said, “This is far enough.” He coiled the rope and stuffed it in a pocket. “We will not be coming back to this area anymore, unless we just have to for some reason.”
The mass of cold air had reversed course and headed north, and it was a warm day. It was nowhere near as hot as it had been only a few weeks before, but they were both soaked with sweat from their labors. Brian pulled his T-shirt up to mop his forehead with, exposing his thin waist. Nate saw how thin he was. He had seen it before, but at this moment it cut into him. Overworked and underfed. He turned his strained face away and looked inward. But full of pain and hate.
Brian stared at his father. “I’m glad that’s over. I don’t want to see them ever again. It’s our friends I want to remember, not them.”
They went back to the bunker to get their packs.
“First we’ll check the cave. It’s not likely they knew about that, though. I would feel better if we scout the area and make sure there’s no one else around,” Nate said. “There’s plenty enough time before dark.”
Brian nodded while drinking from a canteen. He put it in his pack. “Okay.”
Nate looked at him. “You haven’t eaten all day.”
“Neither have you. I’m not hungry.” Brian checked his carbine. “Let’s go.”
They found no sign of any others in the area, but did find a jon boat dragged up on the bank of the creek, not far
upstream from the river. There was no outboard, just two paddles and one long pole. They hid it in thick brush and left it turned over to shed rain.
No more than three or four adults could have fit into the boat, so it was a clue there probably were no more of the killers.
“So,” Nate said, “these bastards came from up or down river and decided to go up the creek and then, what? They stumbled onto the bunker? There is more to it than that.”
Brian did not have an answer. In fact, he did not seem to care. He looked off into the woods, his mind focused on something.
Nate nudged his shoulder. “Brian, this is important. More killers could show up.”
Brian jerked his head and looked up at his father. “Of course. There are probably millions of them. This will never end. One day it will be you or me.”
“Hey…” For several seconds, Nate had no words. “We’ve been through this before when we lost your mother and sister. There’s no point in giving up.”
The look on Brian’s face worried Nate.
“When you rushed the bunker…” Brian’s Adam’s apple moved up his throat. He turned away. “I was thinking if you got killed, I would…”
“You would what?”
“You took a big chance. You don’t normally do something like that.”
“I…was almost certain that there was no one left alive in the bunker. You’re right, though. I got impatient. Should’ve waited overnight. Was worried if there was anyone left alive in there, he would get the door closed in the dark before I had a chance to shoot.”
There was silence between them all the way back to the bunker. Nate’s concern for his son rose to new heights.
~~~~
The next morning, they finished cleaning up the bunker.
Brian seemed to be better, but had little so say. He just threw himself into the work.
