Out of LA

by Dennis Elder

  “Well?” asked Hector.

  “Nothing in the basement,” said one man.

  “Bedrooms are clean. Nobody there,” said another.

  “Then we search the other houses in the area,” said Hector. “They have to be somewhere. And remember not to harm the woman. Ivan will want her for the pleasure house. Waste the guy if he offers any trouble.”

  The men exited the old home. Olivia’s body lay crumpled across the kitchen entry.

  Upstairs Kevin and Marylin sat quiet as church mice. After an hour they began to think Olivia must be dead because she never asked them to come down.

  “Do you think they are gone?” whispered Marylin.

  “Maybe,” said Kevin. “But we’re not coming down until we’re sure they’ve given up looking for us. And we can’t leave during the day. They’d spot us for sure.

  “I assume we’ll be going back toward Nipton,” said Marylin.

  “It’s our only choice,” offered Kevin. “Turns out Vegas wasn’t such a good idea after all. We’ll have to look for a place somewhere else.”

  They spent the rest of the night in the crawl space. There was a small vent in the front of the home where they could look out toward the freeway. They saw flashlights from time to time. Around noon the next day they took a chance and pushed down the small staircase and crept down to the home’s main level. The temperature in the un-air conditioned home’s attic had risen to over 90 degrees. Marylin gasped when she got to the bottom of the staircase and saw Olivia’s twisted body.

  “Come on,” whispered Kevin. Let’s get to the basement. Its cooler down there and we can rest.”

  The couple spent the day and most of the night resting in the basement. Kevin found an old revolver with a box of ammunition. In the corner they noticed a heavy duty backpack and a down sleeping bag next to some Boy Scout flags. Kevin swapped it for the smaller school backpack he’d brought from Nipton. It had three times the capacity. They also gathered two plastic liters of pink lemonade; the same stuff Olivia had offered them the day before. Around three AM they quietly slipped out of Olivia Martin’s home into the pitch-black darkness and started walking south on the I-15 freeway, this time hoping to get far away from Las Vegas.

  Chapter 45: Regular Annie Oakley

  It had taken Mary Smith and Pam LaValley two days to break into the gun shop on the corner of Bear Valley Road and Amethyst Street. It was about a mile and a half east from the hospital. After Mary’s run in with the wacko in Mr. Wiggley’s market, she and her fellow nurses decided they needed to arm themselves. The problem was the gun store had bars on the windows and steel clad front and back doors.

  They’d finally cut through the door with a blowtorch they found in one of the nearby big box hardware stores. Pam had seen it done in one of her favorite movies. They just cut around the door locks. Once the last cut was finished Mary pulled on the door handle and the thick metal door swung open easily.

  Inside they began to look around. It was pretty dark without electricity. There were over a hundred handguns in glass counters and another 200 riflelike guns hanging on the wall. Ammunition was stacked in hundreds of boxes behind the counter.

  Mary didn’t know where to begin, but Pam stepped forward and began to look through the selection.

  “My 1st husband was a gun nut,” said Pam. We used to go shooting all the time. The bigger the better he used to say.”

  “I just want something that’s easy to use and will stop a man with one shot,” said Mary.

  “OK,” said Pam. Then you want….”

  Pam pulled down a Remington short barrel shotgun. “One of these!” said Pam as she handed over the shotgun.

  Mary reached for the black shiny thing with both hands. It was much heavier than she expected.

  “How many bullets will it hold,” asked Mary.

  “Only three, but I can show you how to make it take five,” replied Pam.

  Mary thought about that for a moment. She and the others had watched a pack of 15 or so walking people stumble around in front of the Hospital for several hours two days earlier.

  “I want something with more than five bullets, said Mary as she carefully laid the shotgun back down on the glass countertop.

  “OK,” responded Pam, as she turned back to the rifle racks. “There are plenty of automatic rifles here that have magazines that hold 30 bullets.”

  “Yea,” said Mary. “I want one of those with the thirty-bullet thingy.”

  Pam kept looking. Then she spied an AR-15. And there were three of them – one for each nurse. Pam pulled one down.

  “Most popular assault rifle in America,” said Pam. “It’s called the AR-15 and fires a 5.56 millimeter bullet. The mag holds up to thirty rounds, and one bullet fired inside of a hundred yards is guaranteed to drop one of these walking things in its tracks.”

  Mary shook her head and said, “That’s want I want then.”

  The girls had used a shopping cart to transport the blowtorch tanks from the hardware store to the gun shop. They used the same cart now and loaded it with fifty boxes of bullets, ten magazines, three gun cleaning kits and an extra AR-15 for Lenny back at the hospital. It was Lenny’s turn to watch the kids today.

  Before they left the building, Pam showed Mary how to load a magazine and insert the clip into the AR-15 housing. Pam was a good instructor and made sure Mary was comfortable with the gun and understood the safety and fire switch. Once the lesson was complete, they stepped outside. Pam pointed to a stop sign to the West that was about 50 yards away.

  “Let’s get in a little practice on that stop sign,” said Pam. Then she raised her AR-15, sighted it in and fired one round.

  The bullet struck inside the O in STOP.

  “Nice,” said Mary.

  “Now you,” instructed Pam, as she clicked on the safety and rested her AR-15 inside the shopping cart.

  Pam stood just behind Mary and resumed her instruction.

  “First you need to learn how to hold the gun,” began Pam.

  Mary lifted the gun to her shoulder and waited.

  “OK, extend your left hand out a bit on the barrel,” said Pam. “That will give you a little better support.”

  Mary extended her hand a few inches and then re-gripped the barrel.

  “Good,” said Pam. “Now make sure your right hand has an equally good grip on the handle, just behind the trigger.” Mary complied. “Now extend your finger along the outside of the trigger guard. It’s best not to insert your finger inside the trigger guard until you’re ready to fire.” Mary made the adjustment.

  “Good,” continued Pam. Now make sure the end of the stock, or the butt of the gun, is pulled in tight against your shoulder. The gun will kick hard every time you fire it. If you hold the butt of the stock away from your shoulder you’re going to end up with a nasty bruise.” Mary nodded again and made the adjustment.

  “Now you are ready to fire,” said Pam.

  Mary sighted in the stop sign and pulled the trigger. But nothing happened. Mary looked over at Pam with a questioned face, “What’s wrong.”

  “It’s OK. I wanted you to know what would happen if you left the safety on,” said Pam. “Remember I showed you how to flip the safety and fire switch?”

  Mary remembered and used her thumb to switch the gun to the fire position.

  “Good,” said Pam. “Now raise the gun and remember, pull the butt tight against your shoulder and keep your finger outside the guard until you’re ready to shoot.”

  Pam took her time. He heart was beating hard. She’d never fired a gun before.

  The gun bucked when she pulled the trigger. It gave a sharper jolt than expected.

  “Wow,” said Mary. “That was something!”

  “I told you,” responded Pam.

  “Kinda fun though,” replied Mary with a giggling laugh.

  “As long as you’re not the one on the pointy end of the bullet,” offered Pam.

  That brought Mary back down to eart
h. They had work to do and needed to get back to the hospital.

  “Right,” said Mary as she flipped back on the safety, dropped the barrel and looked at the Stop sign to see where bullet hit. “I don’t see a second hole in the sign.”

  “That’s because you didn’t hit it,” said Pam.

  “What,” said Mary, indignantly. “I missed the entire sign?”

  “Remember what I told you about lining up the two sights, and squeezing the trigger instead of jerking on it,” said Pam.

  Mary remembered.

  “Try again,” said Pam from the side. “Remember to control your breathing, pick your target and squeeze the trigger.”

  Mary raised her rifle and pulled it in tight. She flipped the safety to fire and sighted in the Stop sign. Breathing took a second or two to control and then she slowly squeezed the trigger and the gun bucked for a second time.

  “Better,” said Pam. “You hit the sign upper right corner.”

  Mary dropped the barrel a bit and looked hard at the sign.

  “Yea but I was shooting at the O,” she said.

  “Keep practicing,” said Pam. “Shoot your entire magazine.”

  Mary raised her AR-15 again. Muscle memory was taking over. With every shot she was becoming more comfortable with the rifle. Her last five shots struck inside the O.

  “Nice shootin Tex,” shouted Pam. “Regular Annie Oakley.”

  Mary dropped her rifle again and flipped on the safety switch. “It’s a wonder what a little practice will do,” she thought to herself.

  Both girls suddenly spun around to the East when they heard growling come from behind them. Two of the walking people were running toward them. Pam didn’t hesitate and reached into the shopping cart, grabbing her AR-15. She raised the rifle, sighted in on the center mass of the closest walker and fired. The bullet tore through the woman’s body and she staggered, but then kept coming. Pam re-sighted on the woman again and fired at the center mass again. The second bullet did an equal amount of damage, but the woman only stumbled slightly.

  “Dam,” shouted Pam.

  The walkers were close now and Pam fired all seven of her remaining rounds into the two walking people with equally ineffective results. On her eighth shot all Pam heard was a click. She was on empty.

  Pam reached into the cart for another magazine, fumbled for it and then dropped it on the ground.

  “Shit,” she screamed as she reached for the suddenly slippery magazine while keeping one eye on the walkers. They were close now.

  Suddenly two shots rang out. Each bullet hit the woman and the man squarely in the head and they both dropped flat in their tracks. The woman was less than 15 yards away.

  Pam rose slowly up and then looked to her right. Mary stood tall and confident. Her AR-15 barrel was still smoking. She dropped the gun down a foot or two and then defiantly flipped on the safety while smiling at Pam.

  “Like I said….regular Annie Oakley,” repeated Pam.

  The girls stood there for a second longer recovering from the adrenalin still pumping through their veins. Then Mary spoke up.

  “Let’s get out of her. Might be more of those walking things around.”

  Pam put her AR-15 in the cart and they moved off as quickly as their wobbly cart would let them and headed back East toward the Desert Valley Hospital.

  Chapter 46: Bonafied and certified

  It was Boon’s turn to keep watch. Mark matched him with Caroline, one of the kids and newer member of Mark’s 20-person army. Together, it was their turn to keep an eye out from the front lobby of the indoor shooting range. They’d used the range as a sleeping, eating and training site. Dinner was over and most everyone was settling down for the night.

  Doc got hooked up with Silvia and the rest of Mark’s regulars got matched with one of the newbies. That’s what they were calling themselves anyway, newbies for the kids and regulars for the adults. Something from Army boot camp training the kids guessed. But the matching idea was working. Each kid got a lot of individual weapons training and after a half day of target practice most everyone was becoming more and more confident.

  They’d had good luck finding enough additional bikes and trailers. Susan, Tyrone and Frank had nearly brought all the bike gear back to the range after the first day and continued to work on them after dinner.

  Finding food and clothing was harder. The closest sporting goods store was five miles north on Euclid. It took Mark and his three-man team two trips to gather most of the needed goods. They’d get the rest in the morning, including additional freeze-dried food.

  When they first got to the Indoor shooting range, they were fortunate to find 20 Military grade M-16A2 assault rifles. They were used, but had been well taken care of. The A2 was a good choice because they shot the same 5.56 mm bullet used in their Bushmaster rifles. They didn’t feature a fully automatic setting. Instead the A2 model had a single shot and a three round burst switch. Randy thought that was perfect for the newbies and would help them resist the temptation to waste ammunition.

  All four of the young men got a M-16A2 rifle. Silvia, Teresa and Caroline got one too. Caroline was a little small for it, but she quickly became the best shooter among the three women.

  Cheryl, Connie and Gracie were fitted with smaller Smith and Wesson M&P15s. These were brand new and found in a storage room with a lot of ammunition. The M&P15 looked a lot like the M-16 but fired a smaller 22-caliber bullet. It came with a 25 round clip. Randy decided they should utilize hollow point ammo. That would give the smaller M&P15 caliber guns a lot more stopping power.

  Doc and Silva had been working together all day. They sat in two industrial grade office chairs around a medium sized desk. Doc was checking his medical supplies and making written notes in a worn leather book. Silvia had watched him for a while now. He was a very deliberate man and she respected that. He worked with her tirelessly all afternoon with her M-16, which now lay disassembled on the desk across from Doc’s medical kit. He was also a quiet man by nature. And he was certainly more civil than her divorced husbands.

  “What’s in the book,” asked Silvia as she ran a cleaning pad through the M-16’s main barrel. She had fired over 300 rounds through it and the gun was dirty.

  “Just notes,” responded Doc without looking up.

  “Looks like you’ve been carrying it for a while,” said Silvia.

  “Ten years,” replied Doc. “Started keeping it when I first went over to Afghanistan.”

  “How long have you been back?” asked Susan.

  “About three and a half years,” said Doc. “Mark recruited us during our last tour.”

  “Recruited?” said Silvia.

  “Mark had this idea to start a company,” said Doc. “Something we could do as a team to make a living once we got out of the Army.”

  “What kind of company,” said Silvia.

  “We called it Innovative Combat,” said Doc. “Our first product was something we called CoagQuick.” Doc reached into his kit and took out a small bottle with the words CoagQuick written on the side. “It was a real money maker for us. Got us profitable after the first year and gave us some capital to design some other products.”

  Like?” asked Silvia.

  “Like the SmartScope,” said Mark. “We all have one on our rifles.”

  “SmartScope?” said Silvia.

  “We flew into LA to attend the National Police convention in Anaheim. That’s where we planned to promote it,” said Doc. “Revolutionary really,” he continued as he reached for his personal Bushmaster and turned the scope toward Silvia. “Most scopes are just powerful magnifiers. The SmartScope has the magnifier but comes with a lot of other little goodies.”

  “I thought goodies were things I ate late at night in bed,” said Silvia.

  That got a smile out of Doc. Then he continued, “Soldiers tend to put labels on things that make them more acceptable. I also think they use knick names because they remind them of home.”

  “Where�
��s home?” asked Silvia as she continued cleaning her M-16.

  “Use to be in Kansas City,” offered Doc. “Nothing there for us now.”

  “Wife?” asked Silvia with one eye on her cleaning and the other on Doc. She said it before she could think and hoped it wouldn’t offend him.

  “Divorced,” replied Doc. “Extended tours in Afghanistan tended to destroy even the best intended relationships.”

  “Me to,” said Silvia. “Except my marriage was never that best intended.”