The Ranch

by Sean Liscom

  When we reached the back door to the building, we found it open slightly. I gently pulled it the rest of the way open and stepped over the body that was just inside. This man was one of the President's security detail. Isabella paused long enough to feel for a pulse and shook her head when she found none.

  Moving silently down the hallway was slow going at best. Every room was checked and cleared before we could move forward again. We reached the stairwell and I gave the signals for two of the squad to continue searching this floor. Two more were sent downstairs and Isabella and I went up to the second floor.

  Two more of the President’s detail were found dead at the second-floor landing. From my position, I could see Jim’s closed door at the south end of the hallway. One of Harold’s men was laying in the middle of the floor in front of the door. His head and neck twisted at a grotesque angle.

  I heard the faintest sound of a voice coming from the opposite end of the hall, a woman’s voice. I risked a quick look in that direction and could see the door to the Sheriff's office was wide open. That’s where the voice was coming from. Slipping from the stairwell enclave, I crept toward the open door. Isabella began working her way toward Jim’s office.

  “What in the hell do you mean you can’t find them?” I distinctly heard President Dixon’s voice this time. “Jesus! I leave for a few days and the place falls apart!” she scolded whoever she was talking to. She sounded pissed. I stopped just short of the doorway and pressed my back to the wall for a better view into the room.

  President Dixon was sitting at the radio desk with her back toward me. She had the headphones on and leaned into the mic again. “When you find them, tell ‘em they’re fired and if I ever see them again, I’ll have ‘em trespassed and arrested!” she growled. I leaned a little farther forward and could see her chief of security, Greg, standing several paces behind her. His suppressed pistol was pointing at the back of her head. She was utterly clueless that he was even there.

  I sighted in the side of his head and was about to pull the trigger when all hell broke loose from the other end of the hall. Greg glanced at the doorway and spotted me. He threw himself out of my line of fire, both of us pulled the trigger at the same time. My hurried shot grazed the top of his right bicep, his shot threw the President forward and knocked her out of the folding metal chair she had been seated in.

  I pressed my attack, firing a three round burst as I moved fully into the room. I had to duck as Greg threw a desk lamp at me and followed that up with a wild shot from his handgun. The round caught me in the center of my body armor and caused me to stagger backward until I was backed against the wall. I fired another three-round burst in his general direction as he dove behind the desk.

  Not wanting to get caught in the open and not wanting to back out of the room, I charged forward. It was roughly 10 feet to the desk, and I fired three more bursts into the oak desk as I covered the distance. Doing so had the desired effect of keeping Greg behind cover. Instead of going around the desk, I threw my rifle to my back as I leapt over the top of it.

  Greg was anticipating me coming around the corner and not over the top. This was exactly what I was hoping for. He tried to raise his pistol, but both of my feet caught him in the chest before he could get me in his sights. I heard the air expel from his lungs and his pistol clatter to the floor as I landed my full body weight on him. He rolled onto his side under the impact which caused me to fall on top of him.

  Wasting no time, I punched him in the face with all the strength I could throw into it. He took the solid hit like a professional boxer. He bucked his pelvis and managed to get me off. Instead of capitalizing on his move, he scrambled for the pistol he had dropped. I scrambled to my feet and lunged for his exposed back.

  Again, he took the hit and stumbled forward. He grabbed for the pistol but missed. I drove him forward using inertia to slam him face first into the wall. Before he could react, I gripped his torso in my arms with all the strength I had, lifted him and threw him to the ground again. A good old-fashioned body slam. Instead of rolling away from me, he did the opposite and rolled into my legs.

  Catching me mid-stride, he tripped me, and I fell forward. He continued to roll to get out from under my legs. I was already twisting mid-fall and landed on my right side, clipping the corner of the desk on my way down. The hit to my right thigh sent shockwaves of pain that registered through my entire body. Rolling fully onto my back, I saw the smile on his bloody face. His pistol was back in his hand and he was bringing it to bear.

  I heard the shot and flinched in reaction to it. He dropped the pistol and staggered backward. Another shot rang out and he fell backward out of the window. I looked toward the doorway in confusion. There I saw a bloody Isabella with her sidearm in her left hand, a slight wisp of smoke trailing from the barrel. She lowered the weapon and cradled her right arm with her left. It was obviously broken.

  I slowly got to my feet to the severe protest of my right leg. I first went to my sister, but she nodded toward the still form of the President. I changed direction and limped over to her. The round Greg had fired had grazed the side of her head leaving a three-inch-long gash above her right ear. Fearing the worst, I felt for a pulse.

  “Thank God,” I muttered when I found one. “I need a medic! Second floor, Sheriff’s office!” I shouted into the throat mic and moved to the shattered window. Looking to the ground below, Greg was nowhere to be found. “SHIT!” I slammed my fists on the windowsill. “Squad four, we’ve got a runner! East side of the building,” I radioed to the squad that was searching the grounds.

  “GO!” Isabella shouted from behind me. “I got this!” I looked back at her when I heard a volley of gunfire coming from the direction of the back-parking lot. “GO!” she repeated. I vaulted out the second story window and rolled when I hit the ground. Coming up on my feet, I ran as fast as my bad leg would let me.

  There was another round of gunfire from the parking lot that was just coming into view. Squad four was engaging in a running gun battle with Greg. One of the squad members went down halfway across the paved lot and Greg jumped into the driver’s seat of one of the two Suburban’s. I slowed to a fast walk and emptied the magazine of my rifle into the vehicle as he sped away.

  Changing mags as I began to run again, I beelined for the remaining Suburban. Throwing the door open, I threw my rifle into the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. The engine had no sooner started when I had it in gear and my foot on the accelerator pedal. As soon as I cleared the driveway, I could see Greg’s taillights and I pressed down on the gas even harder.

  He slowed slightly as he made the next right, I had no intention of doing the same thing. Apexing the turn, I fishtailed slightly but corrected for the slide. The maneuver managed to gain me a little ground. We accelerated through 80mph when I grabbed my rifle from the other seat.

  Resting the barrel on the dash, I fired through the windshield until the bolt locked back. I pressed the mag release and let go of the steering wheel long enough to retrieve another one from my plate carrier. Slamming it home, I hit the slide release and took hold of the wheel again. After the first 3 round burst of my renewed onslaught, Greg slammed on the brakes and made another hard right. This put us in a residential neighborhood.

  I unleashed the M-4 rifle again after making the turn and scored a hit on one of his back tires. The rubber shredded from the rim and began to leave a trail of bright sparks in the night. Greg’s damaged vehicle began to slow slightly while I continued to floorboard the throttle. I aimed the front of the Suburban at the tailgate of Greg’s rig and braced for the impact. I’d been firing my rifle as I gained on him and the bolt once again locked back.

  At the last possible moment, I tossed the rifle onto the floorboard and braced for the impact. The two big, heavy trucks collided with about a 40mph speed differential. The collision caused Greg’s Suburban to fishtail hard, first to the left and then to the right as he fought for control. The bare rim on the passenger s
ide dug into the asphalt and vaulted the rig into the air.

  It rolled four times and came to rest on its roof in the middle of the street. I was also fighting for control of my rig. The airbags had deployed on impact and I temporarily lost sight of the road. My foot was still hard of the gas pedal and I slammed into the driver’s side of Greg’s overturned truck.

  When the mass of twisted metal came to a rest, I shoved the door open. I had to lean into it hard because the door was jammed but I finally got it open far enough to slide out of the seat. Drawing my sidearm, I quickly closed the 20-foot gap between the rigs. In the beam of my weapon mounted flashlight, I could see a bloody Greg sprawled out on the other side of the Suburban. He had tried to crawl clear of the wreckage but hadn’t made it far before he’d given up.

  “You move and I’ll end you!” I shouted at him.

  “Go ahead!” It’s already over,” he replied through a coughing spat.

  “You failed! The President is still alive!” I was now standing over him, my pistol pointing at his head.

  “Doesn’t matter. She was a target of opportunity anyway,” he struggled to breath. “We’ll all be dead soon and none of it will matter.”

  “What? Who sent you?” I questioned.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Tell me who you’re working for!”

  “What are you gonna do about it?” he started coughing up blood again. “You think you can stop them?” this time he laughed. I placed the ball of my foot on his obviously broken leg and applied pressure. If the crash hadn’t woken up the neighborhood yet, his screams of pain were sure to bring people out of their homes.

  “Who. Sent. You.” I growled.

  “You can’t stop them. All you can do is die like the rest of us. At least my death will be quick compared to yours,” he spat out a mouthful of blood.

  “The ARK! You work for the ARK, right?”

  “You’re not as stupid as you look, Sterling.”

  “Why’d you try to kill the President?”

  “Screw you....” he didn’t finish his sentence when I put more pressure on the shattered bone in his leg.

  “WHY?” I asked again.

  “It was my job. All of us had jobs you asshole! Create havoc and panic before the main event. Take down communications and people in power. You’ve done nothing tonight except waste a few bullets. This is playing out all over the United States, all over the world! In the end, people like you will be dead and the people who matter will rule over everything!” he spat the words out with venom.

  “The radio signals?” I was beginning to put two and two together in my head.

  “It was our call to arms! Our calling will be fulfilled tonight and there is NOTHING you can do to stop it!” by the look in his eyes, he truly believed what he was talking about. There was a fanaticism there I’d never seen before. “The true rulers will arise from the ashes and step over your rotting corpses to build a New World Order!” he started into another violent coughing fit.

  I knelt down next to his head and looked him straight in the eyes. When the coughing ended, he spit out another mouthful of blood. He stared defiantly back at me. Behind me, I heard an engine roar and headlights played across the accident scene. Another few seconds and the Hummer screeched to a stop and I heard boots hitting the ground.

  I stood and turned to face the approaching squad. Isabella was leading the way. Her rifle was against her left shoulder, supported by one hand. Her right arm was in a sling that was secured to her body. I took four or five steps and greeted her.

  “The President?” I asked.

  “Stable,” was her reply. She looked past me. “Him?” she pointed with her rifle. I half turned back toward Greg, raised my pistol, aimed and fired one round. The heavy slug tore out half of his throat.

  “Dead,” I answered and walked toward my wrecked Suburban. “Get somebody out here to clean that up, we need to get back,” I ordered after I retrieved my rifle.

  “Sweet Lord….” I heard Isabella mutter under her breath.

  CHAPTER 19

  Monday, September 4th, 2017

  The ARK.

  After passing through the large slabs that served as doors into the ARK, the group was greeted by the grisly remains of Blair and Jerrod. It was difficult to identify what belonged to who, seeing as how their bodies were spread out over the 100-foot length of the corridor.

  With everyone on the inside of the ARK, Jack stepped into the small security enclosure and closed the doors, sealing them inside. The emergency lights were dim, but they provided enough light to navigate by. Jack then led the group forward, slowly. He was searching the floor for something; Melissa wasn’t sure what though.

  Reaching the end of the corridor, he knelt down next to the bloody heaps that had only a few minutes before been living human beings. He used his finger to poke around until he found what he was looking for; the pendant Blair had worn around her neck. After wiping it clean on his pants, he slipped it in his pocket and went back to examining the remains. Again, moving things around with his fingers until he came up with a second pendant. That also went in his pocket.

  “The keys to the kingdom,” he said as he stood. “Melissa, stay with me. Captain Boone line your men out and meet us in the control center when you’re done. “

  “Yes, sir,” the Captain replied. Jack took a step forward and slipped on the bloody floor, barely catching his balance before he fell.

  “Damn, slippery bastards even when they’re dead,” he chuckled and started down the corridor again. Melissa stayed two steps behind him as they walked. She was taking everything in as they went.

  At every intersection in the corridor, there were signs with arrows on the walls pointing in the direction of various locations within the ARK. She also kept seeing signs that designated the level they were on as LEVEL 2. She also noticed that every intersection had a set of heavy steel doors that could be used to seal off certain sections.

  After walking half the length of the corridor, they passed a bank of elevators. The four sets of doors stood open; one had the mummified remains of two people inside. A man and a woman, both wore light blue coveralls. Melissa stopped and stared at the shriveled bodies.

  “What are we doing, Jack?” she asked quietly.

  “What?” he had stopped a few paces ahead of her at a door marked “Stairwell C”.

  “I said, what are we doing? You owe me a little more than keep your mouth shut!” Jack didn’t miss the edge in her voice. “You’ve talked about moving ships into position. You’ve talked about firing missiles. You’ve.... What the HELL are we doing here?” this time she locked eyes with him.

  “Mel, now’s not the time. Do as I say, and you won’t get hurt....”

  “GET HURT? Jack, you hit me in the head! You knocked me out! For the love of God, you kidnapped me!”

  “Pull it together, Mel. Everything will be explained in due time. That time is NOT now.”

  “No!” she replied defiantly and crossed her arms across her chest.

  “What?”

  “NO, Jack! You tell me what’s going on or this is as far as I go!” at first he glared at her, but she caught a subtle shift behind his eyes. “Well, I’m waiting.”

  “The truth?”

  “Preferably,” she tapped her foot on the floor.

  “Alright. The truth is that, right now, there are 23 cargo ships out there on the high seas. They were hardened against an EMP, so they have had no problems staying afloat and on the move for the past 14 months. They had several safe harbors where they had food and fuel cached, even spare parts if they were needed.”

  “On those cargo ships are cargo containers,” he explained. “Each container was built to house a missile system. On July 4th, 2016, they fired their nuclear warheads into the ionosphere where they detonated. The result was an EMP that blanketed the earth. It was a perfectly orchestrated attack that put the civilized world on its knees.”

  “I couldn’t stop that from
happening. All I could do was affect the timing so that as many of these assholes as possible were caught with their shorts around their ankles. Believe me, kid, I wanted nothing more than to kill every one of these bastards. Sadly, this was the only ARK that I could literally suck the life out of.”

  “Now, back to the ships. On that day, they fired only a part of their weapons cargo. While the EMP attack was bad, what’s coming next will be the absolute end of civilization. Yes, I fully intend to order those ships to their final destinations and I fully intend to launch every missile that remains.”

  “No....” Melissa whispered.

  “Yes! Once those missiles have been in the air for 30 seconds or so, I’m going to send the self-destruct order. They will explode high in the air and the biological weapons onboard will be consumed in a fire fueled by rocket fuel. What’s left will splash down harmlessly into the ocean.”

  “In the meantime, every asshole that got locked out of their ARK, well, now that the doors have been unlocked....”

  “They will be going into them, right?”

  “Right, and when they are all settled in, I’m going to slam the doors shut again and they can have fun in their crypts.”

  “Then…. Why am I here?”

  “You’re going to be taking a case of the vaccine back to the ranch.”

  “But if you destroy the warheads.... Why?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Call it a failsafe. If something goes wrong, if even one of those warheads delivers its payload, well, I have to plan for all contingencies.”

  “You’re worried your plan won’t work?”

  “No, I’m not,” he said confidently.

  “Why drag me along? You knew Captain Boone was here and he was on your side, why not just have him deliver the vaccine?”

  “Captain Boone has got 44 men AND their families to take care of. Those families are hiding out in Lancaster and as soon as this mission is over, they are going to scatter into the wind. Some are going to Ambrose; others are going to Las Vegas and still others will be striking out on their own. When this is over, so is his commitment to me. That was the deal.”