What's Left of My World (Book 2): This We Will Defend

by C. A. Rudolph

  “Everyone, take a look around you,” Fred said. “You’re now standing in the kill box.” He paused and waited for everyone’s attention to return to him. “This is where they are all going to die. As you can all see, the valley is extremely narrow here and pretty much remains that way for the next half mile. As I said earlier, we’re going to set up multiple zones of fire. If they make it past the first wave, the second wave will get them. If not, the third wave will. And so on.

  “My home will be set up as a fallback position. Those of you who aren’t comfortable being in the fight can hole up there safely. If the enemy somehow survives, we’ll have a fixed position there that can ward off attackers until backup arrives—or hell freezes over, whichever comes first.” Fred paused and pointed to Kristen. “Kristen, you’ll be happy to know that’s where you’ll be. You’re the only one here that’s medically trained. If there’s casualties, and there most likely will be, we’ll need you alive, well, and capable of fixing them.”

  “Fine by me,” Kristen said, her body language displaying her level of annoyance.

  “I’ll need you to set up a spot in my basement where you can work,” Fred said. “You can start moving whatever supplies you need there today. Kim can help you get settled.”

  Kristen smiled and her husband put his arm around her. Both looked relieved.

  “So who else stays at the fallback position?” Scott asked. “Personally, I don’t mind getting into the fight—I’m sure most of the men here feel the same. But what about our wives and children?”

  “I’d prefer all wives and children to remain there, Scott,” replied Fred. “And that’s not me being chauvinistic either. That’s me being practical.”

  “To hell with that,” Whitney spat. “I’ll fight alongside my husband. I’m not staying behind. My kids should be there, but not me.”

  “Same goes for me,” Michelle agreed. “I moved my family and friends here and their entire lives along with them. We’ve made the best out of a tough situation over the past year because we didn’t have any other choice. This is it—there’s no other place for us. We’ve made this community our home—and I’m not going to let anyone come in here and take it from us.”

  “Same goes for me,” Amy Saunders piped up while putting her hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “Just give me a gun. I’m fighting them. Right beside my husband.”

  “Wait…wait,” Peter said. “What if I had my heart set on the fallback position?”

  Amy slapped him on his shoulder. Group members laughed—both at Peter’s frivolous dispute and at his wife’s reaction. Fred continued on despite the antics.

  “I want everyone here to know, regardless of my demeanor, that I’m just as scared as everyone else. I’ve seen my fair share of combat, but I’ve never had to sit and wait for it to happen. I never had that luxury, and now that I do, I’m not sure I like it. My Ranger unit was a part of a kinetic force. We went out and purposely hunted for trouble. We started the fights and finished them, killed who ever needed killing.” He paused and took a breath. “This situation places us all in quite a pickle. We know who our enemies are. But we have no idea what they’re going to do or when they’re going to do it. I’m used to playing offense…not defense.”

  “When do we start the training, Fred?” asked a very interested Norman.

  “Yesterday.”

  “That’s good,” Peter inserted. “I don’t have anything planned for yesterday.”

  Fred shook off Peter’s witticisms again and resumed his lecture. “Everyone here will prove a level of proficiency with a high-capacity rifle and a sidearm. My range is at your disposal. I’m going to prioritize shooting from a fixed position firstly and then we’ll practice as many scenarios as I can think of. We’ll drill on simple maneuvers—how to move, shoot, and communicate. I’ll assign shooting positions, and we’ll practice shooting from those positions.

  “If you can’t move, I’ll put you in a spot that only requires you to shoot. If you can move, I’ll put you in one of the places where mobility is a requirement. Whatever your skill set is, I’ll find a place for you.” He paused. “From today on, we train from sunup to sundown. And when we get the call, everyone will move to their assigned positions and we’ll commence the bloodbath. That’s it. Any questions? Comments?” He glanced in Peter’s direction. “Smart remarks, Pete?”

  Peter shrugged. “I got nothing.”

  No one else said a word. Some nodded and most offered hesitant looks. It was evident, though, that they were becoming much more at home with the plan. Fred could see this and it contented him, but he wasn’t done. He began pacing back and forth across the road in front of the group like he was on a stage, delivering General Patton’s speech to the Third Army.

  “It takes an overwhelming force to overcome a fortified fixed position. I’m confident our enemy has those numbers. But what motivates them isn’t as powerful as what motivates us.” He paused. “We’re fighting for our homes. Our land. Our children, families, and our friends. We’re fighting for our way of life.”

  Fred paused and took a breath. He faced the group, glanced at the sky for a second and then looked down, noticing now that every eye was fixated on him. It was time for his grand finale.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this valley is our home. We’ve broken our backs for it. We’ve poured gallons of sweat and tears for it. We’ve spilt blood for it. By God…we will defend it.”

  Chapter 18

  Shenandoah County, Virginia

  Tuesday, October 19th (Present day)

  Damien started his custom Harley-Davidson, revved the engine to almost redline, and a stream of opaque smoke shot out from the exhaust pipe. He looked over to his loyal sergeant-at-arms as the tall man took a seat on his motorcycle and went to start it up. Damien eyeballed him up and down with a sinister smirk, paying special attention to the cuts on Danny’s face and his taped-up nose.

  “What the fuck happened to your face?” Damien interrogated. “Looks like you got into a fight with a hammer.”

  Danny nodded as he slid his helmet on. “Well, I kinda did.”

  “Must’ve been the old lady, then,” Damien jeered. “I told you a long time ago she was—feral.”

  As if talking about her had somehow summoned her to appear, Sasha approached and mounted the bike that had been parked next to Danny’s, and then started the engine without sentiment. Damien tilted his head toward her.

  “I take it the two of you kissed and made up, then?” he heckled.

  Sasha ignored him, but Damien persisted. He tried laboriously to get her attention by waving, sticking his tongue out at her, and even giving her the middle finger. Beyond used to his antics, she paid him no mind.

  Lenny, having been recently debriefed by the tenured members of the MC concerning the gun battle at Wolf Gap and subsequent abandonment of his brothers, pulled his motorcycle to the front.

  “After you,” Damien said to him while motioning his hand forward.

  Lenny’s face showed signs of total demoralization. He nodded and pulled ahead of the pack. Damien and Danny shadowed behind him, and another twenty or so members of the Marauders MC entourage followed in tow. The pack of motorcycles followed the broken asphalt road out of the neighborhood and soon made their way onto US Route 11, also known as Valley Pike.

  The trip along one of the most historically relevant highways in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia was brief. Lenny led his cohorts down a very rural Stoney Creek Road, took a right onto Route 42, and made a quick left when the sign for Wolf Gap Road came into view. He followed the exact route that he’d taken there days ago with his MC brothers Jared and Mickey. He’d been the only one to make it out of there that day. As a part of his interrogation, Lenny had been forced to recount the entire ordeal, and now, as he followed the mental bread trail of that fateful day, he flashed back to it.

  He recalled Jared’s motorcycle being hit first and how it had burst into flames that soon overtook the MC’s treasurer. He recalled th
e gunfight and watching Jared take a bullet amidst his cries as his skin burned and festered. As Lenny’s mind wandered, he couldn’t help but consider the shooter’s shot placement. He wondered if Jared had been shot and killed for no other reason than to put him out of his misery—and to prevent him from feeling the agony of being burned to death. Why didn’t the first shot put him down?

  As his bike began the ascent up the narrow, winding road to Wolf Gap, Lenny started to recall his relationship with Mickey—the so-called brother he had abandoned. It was no secret that the two never got along. It appeared whenever Lenny would set his eyes on something, it wouldn’t be long before Mickey decided to acquire the identical target. He did so especially if the target was of the female persuasion. There were several instances that Lenny could remember, but only one of them in particular stuck out in his mind. It involved Lenny’s girlfriend, Jackie—and Jackie was someone that Lenny desperately wanted to someday make his property. She was petite and had long blond hair, blue eyes, and was covered in colorful tattoos. She had a forgiving, nurturing way about her, and she was exactly Lenny’s type. He’d fallen in love before, but with Jackie, it was different. Things just made sense. When Mickey noticed that Lenny had taken more than just a liking to her, he decided to do the same. But Mickey used an entirely different strategy to get what he wanted.

  One night after Lenny had been away, tasked with club business, he returned to find Jackie passed out in Mickey’s bed. He attempted to wake her but was unable to. When Lenny went to look for Mickey to find out what had happened, he found him at the club’s bar. Mickey was halfway through a bottle of Beefeater gin and was bragging about his conquest to the other bikers. Lenny remembered overhearing the story from just outside the bar where he’d stood in the shadows. He’d heard Mickey explain how he had talked Jackie into getting stoned with him and how he’d slipped her a cocktail of ketamine and Rohypnol—two potently powerful sedatives that when used in combination, would virtually paralyze the victim. Lenny couldn’t forget hearing what came after. His hands gripped the handlebars tightly as he recalled how Mickey sickeningly described having his way with her.

  There wasn’t anything that Lenny could do. Mickey wasn’t a club officer, but he did have seniority over him—Lenny at the time being little more than a prospect, not having yet earned a club patch. He wanted to kill Mickey for what he’d done, but he was helpless. An attack on another member of the MC, especially one incited by a prospect, would’ve surely spelled a long and painful death for Lenny. When the gunfight began at Wolf Gap, Lenny saw an opportunity to get back at Mickey. It was a way to get back what Mickey had taken from him. It was nearly instinctive, fueled by his love for Jackie. It was an opportunity he had capitalized on without any uncertainty.

  When the procession of bikers reached the wooden sign that read ‘Wolf Gap Recreation Area’, they pulled into the parking lot and, one by one, shut off their machines. Damien hopped off his bike, followed closely by Danny, who was never far from his president’s side. Sasha carelessly sauntered a short distance behind both men, making sure to keep her husband between herself and Damien.

  “Spread the fuck out and look around,” Damien commanded his troops as he pointed his finger into the forest that encircled the lot. “Check under every fucking blade of grass. Nothing gets overlooked. If you find something—and I mean anything—you call to me.”

  Lenny approached Damien, Danny, and Sasha as he slid off his helmet. Neither of his superiors looked in his direction. Sasha noticed him, but didn’t offer him any welcome.

  “That goes for you too, Lenny,” Danny informed him as he lit a cigarette. “Get your lazy ass out there and help.”

  Without protest, Lenny took his leave of them. Danny handed a lit cigarette to Damien and ignited another for himself. The two stood in silence for a moment as the others made an exhibition out of their search.

  “What do you think happened up here, Danny?” pondered Damien as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Did we get attacked by a group of crazy rednecks?”

  “It could be anything, really,” Danny replied.

  Damien tilted his head to get a look where Wolf Gap road wound down the West Virginia side of the mountain.

  “You suppose they came from that direction?”

  “We didn’t see much of anything on the way here,” Danny replied. “Unless they’re just living in the woods—which is doubtful. They had to come from somewhere.”

  Damien nodded. “Let’s take a walk.”

  The two men walked to the edge of the parking area and turned right down Wolf Gap Road while Sasha remained. As they cleared the horizon where the road disappeared to the west, what came into their view caused them to stop in their tracks. Danny pulled a pistol from his waist and brought it close.

  “What in the fuck is that?” barked Damien as he did a double take.

  “A bulldozer,” Danny said, scowling. “One big fucking bulldozer.”

  Damien put the cigarette between his lips and placed his hands on his hips. “That’s one hell of a way to block the road. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “If you’d go to that length to block a road, it’s because you’re protecting something.”

  “Agreed,” Damien sneered. He chuckled to himself as he spit his cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out. “We should investigate this further.”

  “Toda—”

  Danny’s response was interrupted by yelps and whistles behind him. Damien and Danny turned around and proceeded back to the parking area. They passed Sasha along the way, who hadn’t moved from where they’d left her. She was staring busily back and forth at the signs along the road and the bulldozer blocking it.

  “Over here, boss!” one of the men shouted.

  Damien and Danny ran to where they’d heard the calls, as others began to gather around. Under a thick pile of underbrush lay two motorcycles—one that had been completely scorched by fire. Not far away lay a badly burned body. The body was bloated and it showed signs of early decay, but it was intact, and there was plenty of evidence to make it identifiable.

  Damien walked up to the body and took a knee beside it, its flame-ridden decomposition not having any effect on him. He put his bare hand onto the dead man’s face and uttered the name, “Jared,” contritely.

  After taking a moment to lament his fallen brother, Damien stood up, gritted his teeth, and pointed angrily at two of his men.

  “You two—pick him up. He’s a tenured officer of the MC. He’s earned a proper burial, and by God, we’re going to fucking give him one. We’re not going to leave him here to rot—that’s already happened one too many times,” he remarked.

  “How are we going to carry him back on a bike?” a man asked.

  Damien stiffened. “I suggest you figure it out…and don’t fuck it up.”

  The two men that Damien had chosen hoisted Jared’s remains and carried him as reverently as they could up the hill—both fighting the urge to vomit. Not long after, as the rest of the men began to congregate in the parking area, a radio sitting on Danny’s bike crackled. Danny picked it up and began chatting back and forth with whomever was on the other end. He then walked over to Damien, somewhat unsure now of how to approach him in his current emotional state.

  “Boss, that was Bates with DHS,” Danny muttered.

  “Who?” Damien reacted, his disinterest as well as his soaring anger both coating his tone.

  “Bronson’s boyfriend,” Danny said. “He said that Bronson wants us to meet him at their headquarters as soon as possible. He’s got something he needs us to see.”

  Damien offered an attempt at a nod in recognition and waved Danny off, the impact of seeing his dead comrade having affected him much more than he’d anticipated.

  “Tomorrow,” Damien said. “We have to tend to Jared today—I don’t have time for any more bullshit right now.”

  As Danny walked off with the radio to convey his president’s message, Damien mounted his motorcycle and began bar
king orders at the troops, and soon, they returned to their bikes and lined up behind him.

  Lenny put on his helmet and went to start his bike just as Damien pulled up beside him. Lenny looked at his boss curiously. Damien’s expression was as sullen and brooding as he’d ever seen it. This wasn’t good.

  “I’m afraid you won’t be going with us, Lenny,” Damien articulated.

  “What? Why’s that, boss?”

  Damien pulled his nickel-plated pistol from its holster and aimed it at Lenny. Lenny began to lift his hands in the air in surrender.

  “Dereliction of duty.” He then pulled the trigger, sending a hollow-point slug into Lenny’s forehead.

  Chapter 19

  Fred Mason’s gun range

  Trout Run Valley

  Hardy County, West Virginia

  Tuesday, October 19th (Present day)

  Grace watched Christian closely and tried to follow his every move as he drilled with her and several others on the fundamentals of rapid magazine changes with an AR-15. Christian was a good teacher, but found himself lacking when it came to breaking down a compound movement that had become muscle memory for him into several separate ones. Grace’s choreography skills had been able to make up for this. It was just one of her copious talents that she hadn’t yet found a use for in this new world, until today. She helped to transform Christian’s instructions into a set of individual movements which, like learning dance moves step-by-step, were much easier for the less tactically skilled attendees to grasp. With her help, everyone was quickly able to get on the same page, and the training plan that Fred had proposed for the day was moving along at a good pace.