by Kyle Pratt
The pregnant woman nodded. “Wait a minute.” She disappeared into the house and returned moments later with a green backpack and waders. She reached out the backpack to the brown-haired woman, but the old man took it.
“I’ll carry the first-aid kit.” the man said. “Lisa, you stay here and keep watch.”
Brown-haired Lisa started to protest.
“I promise to tell you the truth whatever we find.”
Slowly she nodded.
Maria put on oversized waders. “Come on,” she said to Zach. “Show us the way.” She started to leave while the old man struggled to get his waders on.
Zach didn’t budge. “While I’m leading you back to the soldiers, my sister stays here and you protect her…”
“No, Zach don’t go.” She squeezed his hand even tighter.
“…and let her call our mom so she can say where we are and that we’re safe.”
The older woman nodded. “Of course she can call her mother.” She turned to Vicki. “You look frozen would you like something warm to drink?”
Vicki nodded, but returned her gaze to Zach. “We’re not safe. No one is. And what if Mom wants to talk to you? What do I say?”
“Tell her I’m outside. It’s true and won’t worry her much. I’ll be back soon, and then we can go home.” Once again he pried his sister’s hand from his.
Still holding the shotgun, Maria approached Vicki and Zach with a gentle look on her face. Eyes on Vicki, she said, “We’ll bring him back safe, I promise.”
Zach’s gaze fixed on Maria. “That’s a big promise to make.”
Dressed in waders, the man put the binoculars into one of his many pockets, adjusted the backpack and put the rifle sling around his neck. “Zach, take us back the way you came.”
“Do I get a gun?”
The old man looked at the boy for a moment. “Do you know how to use one?”
Zach had gone on hunting trips with his father, but that had been years ago, when he was a kid. His father had carried the gun all those times and since his Dad died there had been no opportunities to hunt. “Point. Pull the trigger?”
“No, you don’t get one.”
With Zach in the lead, the three of them headed out. “Stay low along this fence. The tall grass will hide us.”
As they neared the stream bed two army jeeps, followed by a flatbed truck, rumbled down the highway. Zach watched through gaps in the grass as they slowed and turned down the little road toward the farm. “Head for the gully and hide,” he whispered.
Maria raced ahead and disappeared down the bank. Moments later Zach climbed down the rocky embankment to the water and looked for Maria, but couldn’t find her. The man was the last to reach the stream. The rising ground on both sides restricted their view but, hopefully, also concealed them. As the vehicles approached, the two males splashed across the creek and crouched against the bank nearest the road.
When only the sound of the distant battle disturbed the quiet, they relaxed. For the first time since leaving the house they were free to stand erect. Zach looked downstream wondering where Maria was when he heard splashes behind him. Turning he saw her, soaked up to her hips, coming out of the dark culvert upstream.
As she came toward them, the man stood and stretched to his full height, wincing as he did.
Zach grinned at the sight. “I overheard Maria’s name when you were talking back at the house. What’s your name?” He resisted the urge to end the sentence with, ‘old guy.’
The man caught his smile and said flatly, “Westmore.” Then he seemed to look more intently at the young man, as if evaluating him. “Trevor Westmore.”
The boy smiled. “I’m Zach Brennon.”
Trevor nodded. “I’ve seen you and your sister fishing this stream and trading in the town market.”
He stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten today. “There’s been no food in the stores for weeks. We catch, eat and trade fish to get by.”
“I know,” Trevor said. “We’re all just trying to get by.”
Maria hurried along the muddy bank toward the site of the shooting. The two men followed as gunfire echoed across the valley.
After walking several hundred yards in silence, Zach turned to Trevor. “I heard Maria mention two guys, Caden and David. Who are they?”
“Caden is my son and the commander of the National Guard armory in Hansen. Maria is his…friend…good friend. David is the XO.”
Zach watched Maria trudge through the mud and freezing water twenty yards ahead of them and picked up his own pace.
“So why is the army shooting at the Guard?”
The old guy sighed deeply and seemed to consider the question as they walked on. Finally he said, “People in our own government and other countries are using the terrorist attacks to seize political and economic power.”
Zach wasn’t sure what economic power was, but said, “And your son is trying to stop them?”
“As best he can, yes, along with others.”
The boy mulled it over. It seemed to him the old man was saying people at the other end of the country and foreigners were trying to tell them what to do. He didn’t like that idea, but he wasn’t even old enough to vote. As he walked along the stream bank he wondered what he could do to help, but nothing came to mind.
As they rounded the next bend in the stream the culvert under the highway came into view. He tensed as he remembered the shooting. Then his gut wrenched tight as the growl of many trucks filled the air.
The three hid side-by-side in the bramble and weeds as the roar reached a crescendo on the road just a couple of feet above them.
Chapter Four
The trucks rumbled by in a seemingly endless procession. The noise made it difficult to talk, Zach scooted close to Maria. “The two were shot just on the other side of the culvert.”
“I’ve got to see them. I’ve got to know….” Slowly she moved forward.
Watching her, Trevor nodded and then followed her into the darkness of the tunnel.
Zach held his breath. The soldiers were just a few feet from them on the road. With an inward sigh he eased from the concealment of the bramble and followed the woman and old man.
The two men were as Zach had left them, one on top of the other. Trevor gently rolled them apart.
Zach needed no confirmation of their death. While Trevor felt for a pulse on each, the young man climbed the bank and carefully peeked through the thorny blackberry bushes as the trucks and jeeps came back from the lake and turned down the narrow county road.
Trevor sighed. “They’re dead.” He stood silently for a moment. “But at least we know they aren’t Caden or David.”
Maria shook her head. “They were loved by someone.”
Trevor nodded as his face grew tired and seemed to droop. He slumped to the bank beside the two bodies. After a few moments he said, “This place isn’t safe. We need to head back to the house.”
Maria closed her eyes and shook her head. “We can’t leave them like this.”
Zach slid down the bank and stopped beside the other two. “I think the soldiers are trying to get around the lake by using the logging road.”
Trevor shook his head “They can’t. We dug out the culvert and hid it.”
“They’ve got a bulldozer,” Zach said. “Could they make a temporary road across the stream?”
Trevor rubbed his chin and stared at the ground. “Maybe, but what can we do about it?”
The young man shrugged.
The older man turned toward the house. “Let’s head home. After the fighting is over we’ll tell Caden where to find these two—but I suspect he already knows.”
Zach followed, but stopped abruptly. “The soldiers had a radio.” He pointed to the bramble. “Could you use it to contact your people?”
Maria frantically searched for the device and found it before Trevor or Zach got there. She fumbled with it and then put it close to her lips. “Caden, hello or come in. Please Caden, come in.�
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From the radio came an anxious voice, “Maria? Is that you?”
“They shot two of your men near the farm. We came to help, but they’re dead.”
The radio crackled. “Get away from there!”
“I will but I’ve got to tell you—the convoy is heading down Hops Road. I think they’re going to the logging road where the men removed the culvert.”
There was a long pause. “Roger, thanks. Now, get away from there!”
Maria stepped toward the culvert with the radio, but Trevor stopped her. “If they catch us with military equipment they will shoot us as spies. Leave it here. If we’re caught we can say we’re just locals trying to get home.”
She nodded and set the device beside the bodies.
The trip back to the farmhouse was uneventful and quiet. Zach heard only a single car pass on the road as they returned along the gully of the stream. Approaching the farm he saw Sheriff Hoover’s car in front of the house. What now? He hung back as Trevor and Maria walked up to the officer. Apparently this family has a better relationship with the police than mine. Slowly he advanced until he could hear the conversation.
“…don’t believe it,” the sheriff exclaimed, “They murdered two guardsmen?”
Trevor nodded. “They did.”
“Nuclear terror attacks, looting, and chaos and now, just when I thought things might return to normal, American soldiers shoot their own countrymen. The world has turned upside down.” Hoover shook his head. “Well they’re out of town now. Most of them have headed down the county road. I don’t know where they hope to go.”
Trevor looked in the direction the convoy went. “Could they use the bulldozer to build a dam, maybe a temporary road, or maybe narrow the stream and use logs to build a short bridge?”
“I’m no engineer, but…maybe.” The sheriff kicked a rock as he seemed to consider the idea. “We need to warn Caden.”
“We did,” Maria explained about the radio.
“I wonder if we could keep them from coming back.” Trevor said. “Block the county road and the highway like we did before.”
The sheriff smiled. “We couldn’t do it as well as before, but we could make it difficult for them.” Sitting in his patrol car he advised dispatch to secure two dump trucks. “Use one to block the highway at the narrow spot near the top of the hill and bring the other to the Westmore farm.” He took a deep breath and then continued. “They killed two of the local guardsmen just west of town.”
“Roger, Sheriff. The bodies of two other guardsmen were found east of the city limit along the highway.”
Hoover sighed. “Notify the auxiliaries, the Legion, VFW and the guys who volunteered before. If they want to help, have them come to the Westmore farm. Out.”
He hung the microphone back on the radio and, with furrowed brow, stood beside his car.
As the sound of gunfire echoed across the valley, they waited.
“I called Mom.” Vicki walked up to Zach. “She wants us to stay put till the soldiers leave.”
He nodded. “She makes sense—when she’s sober.”
Vicki walked off in a huff.
Using his binoculars, Trevor scanned the area. “I can’t see any lookouts.”
“Wouldn’t they be hidden?” Maria said.
“Probably. They are trying to conceal their movements from Caden, but they haven’t bothered hiding from us. I don’t think they’re concerned about the civilians—that’s their mistake.” Trevor pointed to the highway. “The dump truck is coming.”
Zach looked in that direction. Police and other cars followed the truck.
The parade of vehicles rumbled up the dirt driveway to the Westmore home and formed an arch around part of the house and barn like the circling of wagons from a different era.
Soon a small crowd of people waited at the edge of the porch. Trevor moved to the top of the steps while Hoover stopped at the bottom.
Trevor told the assembled men about the two guardsmen that were killed along the highway. As he did he pointed to the spot in the distance. “Two more were shot east of town. They may be soldiers, but they no longer respect our laws, our traditions, or our Constitution. Furthermore, they are trying to kill those among us who are standing up for those principles. We want to keep these men out of our town, like we stopped the looters after the nuke attacks.”
There was a murmur of agreement.
During the chaos of the terrorist attacks Zach’s girlfriend, DeLynn, had suggested that he volunteer as a guard on the blockade, but his mother had called him a kid and said, “I won’t have you messing with guns.” So he watched and did nothing while others saved the community. This time I won’t ask her. DeLynn will be proud of me.
Hoover nodded slowly and then walked up the steps. Standing beside Trevor on the porch he said, “Ben Franklin once said, ‘We must all hang together or, we shall all hang separately.’ Everyone needs to understand, once we engage the army there will be no turning back. Either we succeed, die trying, or die as traitors.”
“We’ll succeed, just like we did before,” someone said.
Again, there was a murmur of agreement and the crowd dispersed toward the vehicles.
Zach walked with the flow. This time he was determined to be part of the action.
At the edge of the cars, an old man with a scraggily gray beard stood beside an ancient red pickup. “Do you have an extra gun?” Zach asked. “I’d like to help.”
The old man looked at him with a skeptical eye. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
He rubbed his beard and looked at the boy doubtfully.
“I was going to enlist this summer.” It was a lie, but Zach told it with all the conviction he could muster. He saw two military type guns in the cab and hoped that the man would not give him one as he had no idea how to use it.
The man reached behind the seat and grabbed a rifle. “Here,” and handed it, and a box of ammo, to him.
Zach knew it was a hunting rifle, but knew nothing about the caliber or where the safety was located. “Thanks.” He jumped in the back of the pickup. He slid down so no one, especially his sister, would see him.
Another man, about the same age, joined the first in the cab.
Zach examined the gun. It was a Remington .270 caliber, single-shot rifle. As the pickup pulled away from the farm and bumped along the dirt driveway he figured out how to load it.
All Zach could hear was the dump truck and other vehicles as the pavement ended and the convoy rumbled onto the dirt logging road. With each passing minute his heart beat harder in his chest. The soldiers are going to kill us. Why did I want to come along? The gun he had wanted just moments ago now felt heavy and foreign.
Over the rumble of engines came the sound of rapid gunfire. His stomach churned. He considered jumping from the back of the truck, but pride overruled fear.
He turned to look as the pickup slid to an abrupt stop on the gravel. Momentum threw Zach up against the cab. Metallic thuds and pings told him the pickup was taking fire.
The old man cursed and flew from the truck as glass rained down on Zach. The other man in the pickup was dead, his shattered, bloody head hung out the broken rear window.
Zach’s eyes fixed on the crimson spectacle for several moments. Then he forced himself to peek over the edge. His muscles were stiff and unwilling to move like the time he fell into an icy pond.
“Come on boy. Better get to cover or….” The old man flew back and slammed to the ground. A blood stain grew on his chest.
Zach flung himself out of the truck and quickly scurried along the ground toward a large tree. Once behind it he stared away from the battle frozen by fear.
He leaned hard against the rough bark as if somehow he could merge with it and disappear. The two soldiers killed by the creek…the two men from the pickup…four people dead right in front of me—all in a few hours! Then he realized the rifle he had been given was still in the truck. How long before they find it a
nd kill me? Tears welled in his eyes. Images of DeLynn, her flowing blonde hair and deep blue eyes, flashed through his mind. Will I ever see her…hold her…kiss her again?
He forced himself to peek around the edge of the tree. The battle floated in his tears. About a dozen police and civilians formed a line along the cars and trucks as they fired down the hill.
Limbs fell from trees.
Dirt flew in the air.
Men fell.
Zach prayed.
Gradually the pace of fire slowed.
As the gunfire lulled, Zach wiped the tears from his face and ran forward, determined to retrieve the rifle. Fear made his feet swift and his body low to the ground. Nearing the pickup he scooped up a black military-style rifle. His momentum brought him to the truck with a thud.
His heart raced, but time seemed to crawl as Zach sat with his back against a rear tire of the truck. He examined the rifle. The receiver was open and no bullet was in the chamber. Is there ammo in the magazine? He pulled on it, but it didn’t budge. The only thing he knew how to use was the scope, but he didn’t want a close up view of the battle.
He wanted to do something, but didn’t know what. Fear planted him where he was. Three yards away was the body of the old man who gave him the hunting rifle. Why did I come? He fumbled with the assault rifle. I don’t even know how to use this thing. What can I do?
When only a few shots echoed along the narrow valley, Zach mustered his courage and stood just high enough to reach into the bed and retrieve the hunting rifle. He had already loaded it, but looking at his shaking hands he wasn’t sure he could hit anything with it. He prayed the letup in gunfire signaled an end to the battle.
In the distance he heard someone shout, “Your position is hopeless. Throw down your weapons and you will not be harmed.”
Several moments passed before he heard a woman shout, “We surrender.”
Zach stood, wondering which side gave up.
“Pile your weapons in the road and line up along the shore,” the voice in the distance commanded.
As several police and civilians moved toward the river, Zach followed. He slung the military rifle across his back and held the other in his hands. The men with him moved cautiously forward with rifles at the ready. Did we win?
