Fighting Rough

by Ryan Westfield

  But the enemy had thrown a wrench in Max’s plans.

  He’d had no provisions for a situation like this, with two approaching enemy groups.

  There wasn’t time to curse himself. He’d have to improvise.

  Mandy was already rushing off to Cynthia.

  Max glanced at Georgia, Sadie, John, and James. They were watching him expectedly, thinking he had the answer.

  Hopefully he did.

  Should they flee?

  There weren’t many of them. They could dash off into the woods. Maybe they could escape. Maybe they could make it.

  John, seeming to read Max’s thoughts, spoke up. “We should flee,” he said. “We don’t have a chance.”

  Hearing it spoken out loud helped Max make up his mind. “No,” he said. “This camp is ours. We’re defending it.”

  Without their supplies, without their food, they’d be as good as dead in a few days’ time if they fled.

  “They won’t let us live,” said Max. “They’ll hunt us down. We’ll be half-frozen, and they’ll kill us easily if we leave.”

  Mandy and Cynthia arrived, panting with exertion.

  There wasn’t much time.

  “Mandy, you and James are coming with me. Georgia, you’ve got John, Cynthia, and Sadie. I’ll hit the old territory. Georgia, get into position over in that direction to take on the eastbound group.” Max pointed to a part of the forest where Georgia would have a good shot at the group coming from the east. “Cynthia and John, carry Georgia if she can’t make it. OK, let’s move! There’s not much time.”

  There was no more time for talking. The atmosphere was tense, but not frantic. Everyone was in action. Everyone was on the move.

  Max glanced behind him. Georgia was limping behind John, Cynthia, and Sadie. A moment later, John and Cynthia stopped, and got on either side of Georgia.

  Max turned his head. The others, unfortunately, were on their own for now. He couldn’t worry about them, or about Georgia’s injury.

  They didn’t have much time to get to their positions.

  The clock was ticking.

  17

  Ricky

  As Ricky had gotten closer to the camp, he’d quickly chickened out and completely abandoned his plans to take on everyone by himself. He’d retreated back into the woods, wondering what to do.

  That was when he’d come across one of them. He was tall and fairly young, completely out of breath, and apparently completely unarmed. There was a wild look on his face and in his eyes. Ricky didn’t know what to make of him. The only thing Ricky knew was that this was the opportunity he’d been looking for, the opportunity that would save him.

  All Ricky needed was information.

  But the man wasn’t talking.

  “Who are you?” repeated Ricky.

  The man stared back at him with his wild eyes. Ricky couldn’t look too long at those eyes. There was something about them that unnerved him.

  “Speak!” shouted Ricky.

  He was losing his patience. He didn’t have all night, after all. He’d been gone a long time. He needed to get back to Anton with the information.

  The man opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” shouted Ricky. “You want something to make you talk? Well, I’ll give you something.”

  Ricky had his pistol out and in his hand. He took reckless aim, and squeezed the trigger. The gun’s recoil was satisfying. As was the sound. He’d been lucky enough to get a high caliber pistol. He liked the seriousness of the weapon, the way it made an impact.

  The bullet struck the man in the knee. He screamed in pain, clutched his knee, tried to maintain his balance on one leg, and then fell down into the snow.

  Ricky walked slowly over to him, his rifle slung across his back, his pistol pointed at the man’s head.

  “You’ve got to know that you’re going to leave this world soon enough, buddy. You might as well make it easier on yourself. I’ve got five more bullets right here loaded, and plenty more in my pocket.”

  “Don’t…” muttered the man, wincing from the pain.

  “Don’t what? Come on,” said Ricky. “Don’t hate me. This is nothing personal. I’m probably in a worse situation than you. I’ve got an asshole boss who’s been breathing down my neck. That’s bad enough, but you know how it is since the EMP. Now it’s life and death, even if it’s just a bad boss. Same shit as before, only magnified.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Pity you’re wasting your dying breath with words like that,” said Ricky.

  Ricky stood over the man, one leg on either side of his body. Ricky pointed his revolver straight down at the man’s head.

  Standing there, having shot the man in the knee, Ricky knew that he had the power of life and death in his hands. And if made him feel good. He felt powerful. When he’d been with the other men from the compound, he’d felt weak. At any moment, an order from Anton could see him executed. Or worse.

  Now it was Ricky who was in charge.

  Practical thoughts soon flew out the window. Ricky momentarily forgot what he was trying to do. He didn’t remember that he was trying to get information that would keep him alive, keep Anton from murdering him out of frustration.

  The sense of power over this man had completely overwhelmed him.

  “We’re all in this shit world together now,” said Ricky. “Although this new world isn’t exactly a team sport, if you know what I mean. It’s every man for himself. And sooner or later, it’s all going to get us. The grim reaper, the big man with the scythe, whatever you want to call him.”

  Ricky was getting carried away with himself, ranting like there was no tomorrow. He recognized somewhat that he was losing control, but he let himself continue. It was fun, after all, to be in power, to wield life and death, to speak with authority.

  “OK,” said Ricky. “I’m going to give you something else to think about. And after that, we’ll see how much you want to tell me. I have a feeling that you’re not as tough and silent as you’d like to think you are.”

  Ricky aimed the pistol at the man’s shoulder. He squeezed the trigger.

  The man screamed, his face contorting in agony.

  Ricky had always thought that the knee was one of the most painful places to get shot, but the shoulder seemed to really do it this time. Ricky briefly wondered why. Did the man have an old injury? Was the whole “shot in the knee” myth just that, a myth? Or was it simply that two injuries hurt more than one alone?

  Suddenly, for a brief moment, the expression of pain on the man’s face vanished. His eyes darted to the side, seemed to show some recognition, and then came immediately back to Ricky’s gun, where they’d been pointed before.

  “You see something out there, buddy?” said Ricky, turning his head in the direction that Ricky had looked.

  Ricky didn’t see anything. It was just the same old regular snow-covered woods.

  But he’d sworn that the man had seen something. Something familiar, something that would make him momentarily forget the intense pain of two gunshot wounds.

  “Who’s out there?” said Ricky, his voice becoming tense and agitated. His mood was starting to shift again, this time to paranoia.

  The man’s eyes flickered off to the side once more.

  Ricky turned again to look.

  But it was too late.

  Something heavy hit Ricky in the back of the head. Hard.

  Pain seared through his skull. It felt like someone had driven a steel spike through the back of his skull.

  He reeled in pain, falling to the ground. The cold snow covered his face, somehow making the pain even worse.

  18

  Rose

  Rose had gotten there too late. She’d been all over in search of Jake.

  When she’d finally found him, he’d already been shot.

  She hadn’t brought a gun with her. She’d been too frantic and too concerned about Ja
ke to remember a firearm. The whole world of guns was completely foreign to her. It always had been. Even over the last day, with the imminent threat of an attack, guns were still the last thing on Rose’s mind.

  And she was regretting that attitude now.

  She was panicking. There wasn’t anything she could do.

  But she had to do something.

  Rose had hidden behind a tree, peeking her head out. When she’d been trying to figure out what to do, half-paralyzed by fear and panic, she’d seen the stranger shoot Jake again.

  Jake was still alive.

  He could be saved.

  She’d finally acted.

  The stranger had been distracted by his own semi-coherent ramblings. Rose had dug through the snow until she’d found a heavy stick. A good, heavy one. Plenty of heft to it.

  Rose held the branch high above her, then swung it down as hard as she could. She heard and felt the heavy wood connecting with the man’s skull.

  The stranger fell heavily onto the snow with a grunt of pain. Half his body had fallen on top of Jake.

  “Jake! Are you OK?”

  Rose bent down, frantically trying to push the stranger’s body off of Jake. The stranger wasn’t moving. He was heavy, but she managed to push him completely off of Jake.

  Jake didn’t look good. The color was draining quickly from his face. His eyes were half-closed. He’d been shot twice, once in the shoulder and once in the knee. Blood had soaked through his jacket at the shoulder.

  “Rose…” said Jake, his voice sounding like it was fading away.

  “It’s OK, Jake,” said Rose. She was trying to make her voice not sound as frantic as she felt. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “It’s going to be OK, Jake.”

  “We should have…”

  “What is it, Jake?”

  Rose felt completely overwhelmed. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t have it in her to watch the only man she’d ever loved die before her eyes. She tried to remember something about first aid. Shouldn’t she make a tourniquet, or do something to stop the bleeding?

  She didn’t know.

  She stared down at Jake’s face that was so full of pain she could barely stand to look at it, not having the slightest idea what she should do next. She was letting the panic overwhelmed her and take control of her completely.

  Rose’s leg was pushed up against the stranger. He still hadn’t moved, but she didn’t know if he was dead. She hadn’t checked his pulse, or even looked at his face since he’d hit him.

  Rose’s heavy stick lay on the ground, half buried in the snow, completely forgotten.

  The stranger’s leg suddenly moved. Rose felt it against her.

  She spun her head to look at him.

  Just at that moment, the stranger made his move.

  He’d either been lying in wait, waiting to make his move, or he’d just woken up out of his daze.

  He moved fast, scrambling into position, and then lunging up from the snow at Rose.

  His body hit hers heavily. He knocked her onto her back. Her head hit the ground hard, her neck snapping back. Snow kicked up into the air around them.

  The stranger’s face was right against hers. He kept her pinned down with one arm. She thrashed at him, scratching his face with her nails, drawing blood.

  But he just grinned down at her.

  She couldn’t get out from under his weight.

  But it’d be OK.

  Jake would save her. He was so close by. He was right there. He’d always been there for her before.

  It’d only be a few more seconds. Just a matter of time.

  “Jake!” cried Rose.

  The stranger was reaching for something in the snow. His eyes didn’t leave Rose’s as he fumbled in the snow with his free hand, searching for something. Probably his gun.

  “Jake!”

  But there was no answer from Jake.

  What was he doing?

  “Ah, there we go. Found it,” muttered the stranger, leering down at Rose with intense eyes full of anger. “This is a new world now, lady, and you’ve got to learn to finish what you start. You don’t bash someone in the head like that and not finish the job. ‘Cause they’re going to come back for you.”

  “Jake!” cried out Rose. There was an intense desperation in her voice. She’d never even heard herself use that tone before. She felt more hopeless than she’d ever felt.

  Sure, she’d encountered problems in the past. Life before the EMP hadn’t been easy for her, in comparison to her friends. But those problems were nothing in comparison to the problems of her new life.

  And now she’d finally encountered the worst problem of all. The one she’d never survive.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” snarled the stranger. With his thumb, he pulled back the hammer of his gun. “More than anything, I’m doing you a favor.”

  “Please,” cried Rose. “Please don’t.”

  If she could buy more time, Jake would save her. He was gravely injured, but surely he’d manage to marshal his strength to save the love of his life.

  “Too late, lady.”

  The stranger seemed to be enjoying this. That was good. All she need was more time, and the stranger seemed willing to give it to her.

  “I don’t deserve this,” cried Rose.

  “We deserve everything we get. It’s all coming to us, whether we like it or not.”

  Was Rose going to leave the world believing that someone else would step in and save her?

  Finally, something clicked in her mind.

  Her survival instincts kicked in.

  Strong instincts.

  No one else was going to help her.

  Jake wasn’t going to.

  No one was.

  Only she could do it.

  Rose let out a furious scream and pushed herself up against the man, using all her strength and all her weight.

  She broke free from his pin, from his one arm that had pinned her down. Only her upper body was free. His knees, hard and knobby, were still pressing into her thighs.

  Rose’s hands went for his gun.

  But it was too late.

  The stranger pulled the trigger. The revolver discharged.

  The bullet struck Rose in the arm.

  The pain surprised her, sending a shock of adrenaline through her whole system.

  She’d been shot, something that she never would have thought remotely possible in her previous life. Getting shot was something that happened only to people in the newspapers, only to criminals and cops and soldiers. Not to people like Rose.

  Rose didn’t let her surprise stop her. She had both hands around the stranger’s gun.

  He didn’t want to let go.

  Rose pried at his fingers.

  She bent her neck, craning it, getting her mouth right against the stranger’s exposed wrist.

  She bit him. Hard, sinking her teeth into his flesh.

  The stranger screamed. His grip on his gun loosened.

  Rose seized the opportunity. She managed to get the gun away from his grasp.

  The stranger didn’t let his pain stand much in his way. His hands came towards her. Fast.

  He didn’t go for the gun. Instead, he went for her throat.

  Rose felt his large, strong hands tighten around her throat.

  She couldn’t see what she was doing. The gun was in her hands, but it was wedged between their two bodies. He was pressing down against her again with all his weight, his hands never leaving her neck.

  Rose knew she didn’t have much time. A few more seconds and she’d lose consciousness.

  The fingers around her neck tightened.

  Squished between their bodies, the gun was pointed to the side.

  It took all of Rose’s strength to get the gun pointed slightly to the sky. That way when she pulled the trigger, the bullet would hit the stranger.

  It didn’t seem like she could do it. His body was too heavy. Her hands felt weak. The arm that had been shot didn’t
seem to be working quite right. It was incredibly weak.

  Finally, with one last desperate effort, she got it.

  The gun was angled slightly up. She hoped. She still couldn’t see it at all.

  Rose squeezed the trigger.

  The recoil was intense, sending pain down her already-injured arm.

  The noise of the gun was defending.

  The hands around her throat loosened up immediately.

  The stranger’s face was right up against hers. She’d never forget the expression it wore.

  He was dead. Or just about dead.

  Rose could barely get the body off of her own. It took all her effort, as well as ignoring the pain in her arm. But she got him off. He rolled over into the snow onto his back, no life left in his face.

  Rose scrambled to her feet. She was covered in snow and blood. Her throat was intensely sore. The gun was still in her hand.

  “Jake!”

  She scrambled over through the snow to Jake, who was lying completely still.

  “Jake! Say something!”

  Rose dropped down onto her knees, setting the gun down into the snow. With the hand of her good arm, she pawed frantically at Jake’s face.

  But there was no life in it.

  Jake wouldn’t answer her anymore.

  Rose wasn’t going to give up.

  Despite her bad arm, she began pumping up and down on Jake’s heart with both hands. She didn’t know how to properly execute the maneuver she was trying to do. After all, she’d never studied first aid.

  It was futile.

  Jake was dead.

  Rose kissed Jake’s lifeless lips, which had already grown cold, and then sank down into the snow. She curled herself up into a little ball, pressing herself against Jake’s dead body.

  The man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with was dead.

  Rose’s face was pressed into the freezing snow. She began sinking down into a tumultuous depression. The pain in her arm was nothing compared to the anger and despair raging inside her mind.

  She stayed like that for a good ten minutes, sinking deeper and deeper into complete hopelessness.