by Jack Hunt
“What are they doing?” Corey said to me. I peered over the edge. The group out front had backed away. Tired of losing men they had retreated behind a line of cars. The fight was not over. They were reassessing the situation. Searching for any way to get in without being set on fire or shot. It was as if our position on the second floor of the home was like a castle on top of a hill. Even though we were outnumbered, we had the advantage. No matter how hard they tried to get close, they couldn’t get inside. Billy, Luke and Murphy held the ground floor with Brett and Jodi while Corey, Ally, Sara, Kiera and myself remained on the second floor.
In a real war the enemy would have bombed the house or rushed it and taken the loss. But that wasn’t the case here. While they called themselves foot soldiers, none of them were stupid enough to run at a live gun. Until recent events, their attacks on society amounted to rallies, hate-filled propaganda and the occasional act of violence.
We used the few moments of quiet to check ammo, and make sure that each of us were okay.
“How you doing, Billy?” Murphy shouted up.
He groaned. “My father used to go on at me about working for the family business. I hated it. Right now I would trade in this pain for back-to-back shifts if it meant not feeling this.”
“Suck it up, Manning, you little bitch,” Corey said smirking at him.
Billy flipped him the bird.
I glanced back out. There was no movement. For the first thirty minutes they had thrown everything they had at us. It was touch and go. I had never felt my heart beat so fast. Molotov cocktails, bullets and even a hammer came flying through the window but they never gained ground.
“What do you think they are doing?” Corey asked.
“Waiting us out,” Ally replied. She held in her hand a Glock.
I couldn’t even begin to think of the psychological damage this had on all of us. In a period of forty-eight hours we had gone from being delinquent teens pushed away from family and community to having no option but to break laws in order to survive.
“Seems almost ironic, doesn’t it,” I said.
“What does?” Ally asked peering out the corner of the window.
“This. Working with your father in order to survive.”
“Shit happens.”
“Don’t let your old man catch you saying that. He’ll make you pick up a rock and carry it a mile or two,” Corey added.
She let out a chuckle. It was the first time I had seen her smile since this had kicked off.
“What are you laughing about?” he asked.
“Would you believe me if I told you that was my idea?” Ally replied.
Corey scowled at her. “Your idea?”
“My father wanted input on the program. He was saying how everyone was swearing all the time. I suggested having people pick up a rock each time they swore and carry it. It would serve as a reminder.”
“Like putting a dollar in a swear jar.”
“Exactly. Let it hit you where it hurt.”
“Thanks, I picked up thirty-seven rocks over the period of that month. My backpack weighed a ton.”
“But it worked, right?’
“It didn’t stop me swearing if that’s what you mean.”
“No, but it got you thinking before you spoke.”
“Are you telling me that was the point of it?”
“Of course,” she replied pulling her gun away from the window. “My father couldn’t care less if you swear. Everything they did at that camp was to get you to think about your actions. To think about what it was you did to get there and the consequences.”
Corey laid his rifle on the window and peered through the scope. “Alright, Ms. Perfect.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Don’t pay attention to him, he’s just pissed off because he thought your old man had it in for him.”
“Whatever,” Corey replied before turning his attention to the ground below.
“Murphy, are you seeing this?” Shaw called out to him. I got up close to the window and looked out. The skinheads were pulling back.
“Same over here,” Sara said.
At the front and back of the home they moved back slowly until within a matter of minutes they were out of sight.
“Think they are trying to lure us out?”
“Possibly.”
Another ten minutes passed. There was no movement and no one was out there.
“Perhaps they got a whiff of your BO, Corey,” Billy said before letting out a laugh only to groan in pain. Luke came up the stairs to get a better look.
“I say we venture out. Might be the only chance we get.”
While we had taken out a large chunk of them, there still had to be at least eighty remaining out of the original group two hundred and forty. They could have been anywhere.
“No, we stay here until dusk or Dan arrives. Whatever comes first.”
Whenever someone came up, one of us went down to take their place. We had no idea what the skinheads planned but it was obvious they weren’t the kind of people to back down.
In the distance we could hear gunfire.
“You think that’s Dan?” I asked Murphy. There was a look of concern on his face. It was possible. We had been here for close to two hours. That would have given Dan plenty of time to arrive. It might have been the reason they pulled back. I could see he was itching to find out while at the same time weighing the risk factor.
“Scot.” Sara tossed him a look and shook her head. “Don’t.”
“And if he’s out there?”
They exchanged glances and it was clear to see the reason why their marriage might have suffered. Murphy didn’t seem like the type of person that avoided danger, he was the type of man that ran towards it if it meant saving a buddy. I admired that about him. Long before I was ordered to attend Camp Zero, I had seen Murphy around town. When he wasn’t working with troubled teens he plowed snow in the winter with his truck and did odd jobs alongside Dan.
“Shaw, you want to come with me?”
“I’ll go with you,” Luke offered.
“No, you need to remain here. For all we know they might be trying to divide and conquer.”
“This isn’t Iraq, Scot,” Sara added.
“Just keep an eye on our daughter.”
Sara chuckled to herself. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve done.”
“What?” He spun around and for a brief second I think he was about to lose his shit.
“Mom,” Ally tried to intervene. That seemed to help as Sara walked into the next room.
“I’m going with you,” I said.
“Didn’t you hear me? Stay here.”
I watched them go downstairs and I heard Brett say he would go. From the window they slowly made their way out the back and then disappeared into the tree line. We were all waiting for the sound of bullets but none came.
Five minutes went by and then I began to get antsy.
“I’m going after them.”
“Didn’t you hear what he said?” Ally replied.
“If they get caught out there, they are going to be glad we showed up.”
“And if you get caught out there?” she asked.
“We’ll deal with that as and if it happens.” I checked the ammo on the rifle and slung the gun around my back. On my way downstairs Luke followed me.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“If you can go, so can I.”
I wasn’t going to argue with him. Brett, Murphy and Shaw had left together heading west. Those that remained were Corey, Ally, Kiera, Sara, Jodi and Billy. We stepped over bodies as we navigated our way into the tree line. The dead stared back. I thought I would feel hate or regret but instead I felt nothing except sadness.
I heard Luke’s stomach grumble as we trekked through the forest in the direction of gunfire. All of us had eaten the bare minimum. As we got closer to the edge of the forest, we could now see what was happening.
A group of stranger
s had taken up position on top of a hunting store. We figured they were using whatever they had scavenged to fend off the group of fifty, maybe eighty skinheads. Some were scaling the side of the wall using the fire escape. To make matters worse, Murphy, Shaw and Brett had obviously been spotted as they had taken cover behind a burnt-out truck further down the street.
Crouched down at the edge of the forest, I was trying to figure out the best course of action. Luke wanted to open fire on them but I was certain that if they caught wind that our group was divided, it was possible they might circle around and overtake the house where the others were.
“Follow me,” Luke said.
“Where are you going?”
“You’ll see.”
I shot the others a quick look, and then reluctantly followed him.
We backed up into the forest and Luke sprinted, jumping over fallen trees and ducking low-hanging branches. At this rate, if we didn’t get shot, we were going to end up with a mean rash from poison ivy. The damn stuff was all over the place.
We must have been running for at least ten minutes straight before Luke burst out of the forest into a parking lot. It was the rear of the lumberyard that Billy’s father owned. A massive place that stored large amounts of timber. Most was piled up in various places around the yard, some of it had been taken, cut and was ready for purchase by construction companies.
“Hurry up,” Luke said waving me on. At the rear entrance, Luke fired a few shots at the door and glass exploded. He reached in, unlocked it and we entered. Glass crunched beneath our boots. I looked around the office space. There were computers; filing cabinets and the place had a rustic, well-used look to it. Luke disappeared into a room and then came out jangling keys.
“What’s that?”
“Keys to a Hayes truck.”
“Doesn’t that have a chip in it?”
He brushed past me and looked at me as though I was some kind of idiot. “No, these beauties aren’t made anymore. They closed up shop back in the early ’70s long before all that computerized shit. I tell you one thing these suckers are solid. Well built. You can’t get a better timber truck.”
“How the hell do you know about this? This is Billy’s old man’s place.”
“Yeah, I did a summer job here.”
“You were planning on getting a job working for the lumberyard?”
He stared back at me. “You really think highly of yourself, don’t you, Frost?”
“No. I just didn’t imagine you would want to work in a place like this.”
We strolled over to a huge, green, twenty-four-wheel truck that was hooked up to a trailer filled with a massive amount of freshly cut tree trunks at least twenty feet long. The only thing that held them in place were six huge steel bars either side. There was no top to it.
“Oh what, because I wear all black? I bet you thought I was going to join a punk rock band or wind up in some crack house with a needle in my arm.”
He hopped up onto the side of the truck and opened the door.
“Get in the other side.”
“Luke, what the hell are you planning?”
“You’ll see.”
“Yeah, I would rather you just tell me.”
I went around and got in. He started up the engine and it roared to life.
“Buckle up.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Your funeral.”
There was something in the way he said it that didn’t sound comforting. The truck hissed as we jerked forward and he circled around heading for a gate that was closed.
“You want me to open the gate?” I asked as we got closer.
He looked over at me and smiled and then hit his foot to the accelerator. The truck smashed through the flimsy mesh wire fence. I looked in the mirror to see it dangling from the hinges. Luke let out a sound as though he was at some football game.
“Always wanted to do that.”
“Seriously, Luke, what are we doing here?” I gripped the door handle regretting that I had stepped inside.
“Ever gate crash a party?”
He slammed his foot against the accelerator and the mammoth truck began picking up speed. I brought down the window, as it was hot and stuffy inside. The wind whistled and whipped at our faces, sending Luke’s long hair into a crazy dance. It was about a five-minute drive before we would turn on to Main Street.
“I heard what happened to your father.”
I don’t know why I came out with it. He cast a glance at me as he kept a tight grip on the large wheel.
“I get it.”
“You get what?”
“Why you hate them.”
He snorted. “What are you trying to be? My buddy or therapist?”
“Neither.”
“Look, just because we are working towards the same goal, that doesn’t mean I like you. We aren’t buddies, and we sure as hell aren’t the same.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No but you were implying.”
I scoffed. “Man, you don’t let up, do you?”
He shook his head and focused on the road. I decided it was best to drop the topic. The guy had issues, but then so did I. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that the trouble between us would be resolved because we had been forced into a situation of fighting alongside each other.
As we got closer to the corner of Main Street I could hear the noise of gunfire.
“When I tell you to jump. You better jump out my side. That’s all I’m saying.”
I turned my head towards him but then was thrust back into my seat as we came onto Main Street and he hit the gas. Main Street was the long vein within our town. Unless you were at the furthest tip of the east side, you couldn’t see all the way down to the end of the west side because there was a rise halfway up. It wasn’t much but enough that it would block the vision of those that were heading east.
“Luke.”
He gripped the wheel and the truck began to roar. I cast a glance over my shoulder and out through the window. The huge round logs that were anywhere from twenty to thirty feet long were jam-packed together like matches in a box. I kind of figured what he was about to do and now I really wished I hadn’t got in. The truck was still sporting some decades-old cassette player. There was a tape partially sticking out.
Luke tapped it in and hit the power on.
“Let’s see what this guy was listening to.”
I’m pretty certain that both of us thought that rock music was going to blare out the speakers, country even, instead some organ music came on.
“What the fuck is that?” Luke slapped the eject button and tossed the tape out the window. I might have laughed if I found anything about our situation amusing but I didn’t. A shot of fear ran through me as we came over the rise going faster than any timber truck should have been going. The look on their faces as we barreled down upon them was pure panic. The skinheads had grouped together behind three vehicles and by the way they were backing up slowly, I had to wonder if they thought they were safe. Seconds before Luke yanked the wheel he pushed his door open. That was all I needed to see. I didn’t have my seat belt on or need to hear him yell to get out. I thrust my body sideways after him just as he turned the wheel. Everything happened in an instant. Metal screeched, sparks flew and the trailer crunched against the asphalt as it turned. When the mammoth tree trunks unloaded, the noise was deafening.
I plowed into Luke, and both of us hit the ground. Still clinging to my rifle I smashed my shoulder so hard in the fall I was certain it broke. Tumbling head over heels I came to rest not far from Luke. Both of us looked up instinctively and watched the truck careen sideways, slicing up everything in its path. An explosion like a clap of thunder and the collision of fifty vehicles shook the ground itself. That truck took out lampposts, phone lines, storefront windows and obliterated any vehicle that was in its path.
A plume of smoke filled the narrow street carrying with it dust and tiny particles of tree bark. All gu
nfire had ceased. For a few seconds after the truck came to a halt, I thought it was over. Then, in an instant gasoline erupted in a fireball engulfing the truck and what remained at the back of the trailer. An explosion and a huge chunk of metal shot into the air, then returned to the ground with a clatter.
STANDOFF
The sound of screaming filled the air. Two skinheads came rushing forward, their bodies engulfed in fire. They dropped and rolled in an attempt to put out the flames but it was useless. Their bodies were covered in gasoline. Within seconds they stopped moving, and there was silence.
Luke and I were still laid out on the ground. I spat out some grit and slowly clambered to my feet, bringing my rifle up in preparation for an attack. But it never came. There were a few shots fired from above but that was it. A quick, sudden burst of gunfire and then nothing. From behind us, off to the right, Murphy, Brett and Shaw came around the burnt-out wreckage that we had seen them taking cover behind.
“Didn’t I tell you guys to stay put?”
“You told us a lot of things,” I said.
“No, I specifically told you not to follow.”
“Where are the others?” Brett asked.
“Back at the house.”
He nodded and gripped my shoulder. “I’m going back to make sure they are okay.”
He patted Murphy on the back before he rushed off down an alley that would lead to the residential area.
“Whose idea was this?”
I pointed to Luke. “Who else.”
Murphy shook his head. “Should have figured.”
Luke shook his head. Murphy whistled to the folks who were on the roof. They made some gesture as if to say they couldn’t see if there were any alive. Slowly we made our way past the overturned truck and were finally able to get a better look at the devastation. Not only had it taken out multiple stores, lampposts and cars but the logs had crushed many of the skinheads. Occasionally we’d see an arm or leg sticking out. It was a bloody mess.
I heard a groan and in among the smoke and debris there was a guy still alive. His calves and feet were pinned beneath a log. As I approached him he reached up muttering something. Before I could get close to make out what he said, a gun went off. I shot a glance to my side to see Luke. He’d shot him in the head.
