“Thank you,” she said, then turned and walked back to the pickup.
Sarge got into the driver’s seat, waved, and departed. Stryker walked back to the building with a still-smoldering rage. He turned and watched the pickup move away. Erin was seated next to her sister and they were talking. He saw the sister break down in tears, and concluded that Erin had given her the news about their parents. Haley’s shoulders moved up and down and she covered her face with her hands. The pickup moved over a hill and disappeared.
Stryker took up a position on the second floor, armed the missile launchers, and settled in for a long night. His earbud crackled when Sarge announced he was in position, and they settled into what was going to be a long wait. Both of them slept, and as the horizon started to meet the earth, woke up.
“Guns up,” Sarge announced into Stryker’s earbud. He had already been up for over an hour, watching the sun glimpse over the horizon.
“Ready here. Fire on my launch.”
“Wait one.” A few second passed, then Sarge announced, “We have another woman in the second truck.”
“Shit,” Stryker muttered. He paused to consider the situation, then keyed his mic. “I’m going to wait for them to start to unass the first truck, and then hit it with the LAW. I’ll only go for the second one if they try to escape. I know it’s a risk, but we can’t leave that woman with them. We’ll need to move in fast and suppress their fire. I’ll go for the woman when we have them down and defensive.”
“Got it.”
“I’m moving downstairs to get ready to assault. I’ll fire the LAWs from there.”
“Fire on my command,” Sarge answered. “I have a clear view of the second truck.”
“Roger,” Stryker said as he charged down the stairs and set up on the front of the building by sitting in the chair that propped the door open, launchers propped against the wall behind him. They wouldn’t see Stryker wasn’t one of them until it was too late.
His earbud came to life again. “Erin’s on the hill with the M-40.”
“Does she have comms?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then dial her up right after my first LAW. Tell her not to kill Brody. Shoot to wound if need be.”
“Roger that.” Stryker was furious about involving Erin in the fight, but accepted it. They would need all the help they could get under the new circumstances.
The first truck came into Stryker’s view, moving down the road directly toward where he sat. Sarge was right; the second truck was obscured by the first. As the truck lumbered toward him, Sarge gave the command to fire after the vehicle stopped and the men stood up. Stryker removed the safety pin located at the rear of the tube. Then he moved the front and rear sight covers, allowing the sights to pop up into their firing positions. He removed the first of two safeties, held down the red safety lever located in front of the cocking lever, and then fired by pressing forward the red firing button with his thumb. An enormous whooshing sound cracked the air as the projective left the tube, and the back blast emitted a four-foot tail of flame. The missile impacted the radiator of the truck. It reared up like a horse, throwing men to all sides of the vehicle and separating them from their weapons. Stryker quickly prepared the second LAW, hoisted it on his shoulder, and waited for the command. Sarge was already raking the unarmed downed men with continuous fire from the SAW, and Stryker fought to not look at the damage.
The sight remained steady on the now-visible second truck. The passenger saw Stryker aiming the LAW at the truck. He pointed to where Stryker stood and the two men left the cab and moved toward the back of the building, the larger man dragging the girl behind him. Stryker carefully laid the LAW on the ground and brought up his M-4 as the men moved closer. He was sure the larger man was Brody. He sighted carefully, squeezed off a round, and the man went down, releasing the girl, who stood rock still, looking confused. The second man pirouetted to the ground after the boom of the M-40. Stryker looked around and didn’t see any bad guys moving. He ran over to where the girl stood and she cringed away. His ear bud crackled to life. “Clear,” Sarge said. “Erin’s on her way in and I’m policing up.”
“Roger.” Stryker kept the M-4 leveled at the man he assumed was Brody; a minute later, Erin approached at a dead run.
“You got her?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Get her back to where you parked and guard her until we can meet you there.” Stryker heard two pistol shots and presumed Sarge was finishing the job. “That’s me,” Sarge said. Stryker nodded and moved to the downed man, who had gained a seated position and was staring at the hole in his stomach.
“You shot me.”
“You should be grateful, Brody.” The man started at the sound of his name being spoken by a stranger. “I really wanted to kill you very slowly with my bare hands.”
“Go ahead and finish it.” He grimaced in pain. “I’m going to die anyway.”
“I will if you answer one question honestly. If you don’t, I’m going to make it much more painful. I might even patch you up so I can have fun for a longer period of time.”
“What’s the question?”
“Where are the other girls? We have the ones that were here, but we also know there were more before them. Do you know the men who bought them?”
“No,” he replied softly.
“You sure?”
He weakly nodded his head. “We didn’t care who they were; if we asked, they would have lied anyway.”
Stryker stared at the man until Sarge stood next to him. “He’s telling the truth,” Sarge said.
“Are there any more of you?” Stryker asked
“No.”
“You want to make that your final answer?”
“Come on, Regis. Let’s get this over with,” Sarge said. “Only a couple of fools would stand out here in the open.” Sarge carefully placed a pistol shot in the man’s left kneecap. “That’s for Erin,” he whispered, as Brody writhed around in the dirt. He fired again, and the other kneecap seeped blood. “That’s for Haley.”
“And this is for making me want to puke, you sick bastard.” Stryker killed Brody with a single shot to the forehead, then shot him twice in the chest. “That should do it,” he muttered, then walked over and picked up the LAW. Stryker and Sarge walked about fifty yards. Stryker turned and sighted the weapon at the building and released the rocket. There was a loud explosion. The front of the building collapsed into the structure, but it still stood.
Both men looked at the rocket launcher. Sarge looked up and said, “Probably made in China.” Both men chuckled and walked back to where Erin had parked the truck.
“How do you suppose they all survived the plague?” Sarge asked as they walked.
“No idea. Maybe they were all from the same family. Brothers, or cousins, or something.” Sarge looked doubtful.
“I’ve not seen more than two survivors together since this thing started.”
“Me either. Except for us. I’m guessing that they knew each other before the plague started, and maybe went into hiding somewhere in the country and waited for things to pass,” Stryker answered. The men stopped by the pickup and both looked back at the battlefield.
“Sarge, we better police up the weapons.”
“Most of it is junk.”
“I know. But some kid could stumble on them and start playing with them or something. Besides, there’re two ARs and some pistols we could probably use.” Sarge shrugged and the two men policed the battlefield, dumped the weapons in the pickup bed, and took a last look around.
“Job’s not done until the tools are put away,” Sarge noted.
Haley was comforting the small girl who they just freed from Brody’s men. She was crying and seemed beyond consolation.
“I presume you killed him?” she asked when the men stopped in front of her. She looked a little shaky and pale.
“Of course,” Sarge replied
“He took a lot of killing. I counted five shots
.”
“We had to be sure.”
“I know.”
“That was a nice shot, Erin,” Stryker said.
“I couldn’t let them get to the building and I knew you wanted Brody alive, so that’s the shot I took. It’s pretty hard to wound someone with this thing, so I picked the other guy.” She paused, looked away and asked, “You’re not angry with me for coming back?”
“I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but it turned out you were right. Without that shot, things could have ended very badly for all of us.”
“I’m glad I was there.”
“Me too.”
Sarge joined them. “Hey Sarge,” Stryker said.
“Yeah?”
“Regis Philbin hasn’t hosted that quiz show in years.”
“Guess I gotta get out more.”
“Let’s go meet the women. But first, is she okay?” Stryker asked, nodding his head toward the little girl who was still sobbing.
“I don’t know,” Haley answered.
“We can do introductions later. Erin, get them in the back of the truck and we can do the formalities in the house,” Sarge said. “We’ll sort out the girl later.”
They rode back in silence, disappointed to have not been able to free the rest of the women, but content with what they had accomplished. Stryker snuck a glance at Sarge sitting in the passenger seat. He saw the old man was exhausted, but Stryker knew better than to comment.
They parked the pickup in the barn next to the Jeep that Erin had stolen from her captor, and they all walked to the house, Haley holding the little girl’s hand. After passing through the door, Stryker went to the basement, cleared the two rooms, and reappeared with an armload of water bottles. He nodded at the young women when he returned and then passed out the bottles. Everyone drank the water and they introduced themselves.
Haley was a smaller version of Erin. She was lean with an athlete’s build, with the same green eyes and auburn hair. She was studying to become a dentist and had lost her boyfriend to the plague. She seemed a bit shy, and that was understandable; but there was melancholy look to her that puzzled Stryker. The little girl clung to her like a limpet on a ship’s hull and remained silent.
Mia was the polar opposite. She had short, dark hair, a little pixie of a woman and probably the most outgoing. Mia wanted to be a college professor of literature, and her voice seemed to grow quiet as she discussed how that had no possibility of happening. Her boyfriend had called her cell phone on the fourth day of the plague, telling her he was infected and saying goodbye. He went to college in Florida. She sniffed a few times as she talked about him, but gave the impression of being a strong, young woman.
Jenna was redheaded and had a normal build. Taller than Mia but shorter than Haley, she had a tomboyish look to her. Jenna was studying art and wanted to be a museum curator. Her eyes looked at the floor every time she spoke and she only looked up when someone else spoke. She finished her introduction by saying that she missed her parents. She was from San Antonio. The family had lived in San Diego until a few months before the plague, but had moved back to the family ranch in Texas.
“I was stationed at Pendleton when it happened,” Stryker said.
“Do you think anybody in San Diego is alive?”
Stryker tried to think of a way to soften the blow, found none, and looked into her hopeful eyes. “I very much doubt it. I stayed there for quite a while after and didn’t see anybody for the last few weeks. I don’t know that San Antonio would be any different.”
“Why are you still alive?”
“I think Sarge’s family and I are immune. I can’t prove it, but I had all sorts of contact with the sick and never got the disease.”
“Maybe my parents are immune, too.”
“I hope so.” His reply was gentle.
Elle was truly striking. Even without makeup and after what she had been through, she looked like she belonged on a catwalk somewhere. She had long, glossy black hair, startling blue eyes, and an air of confidence that was not present in the other women. She was studying fashion design and had wanted to be a clothing buyer for a department store. She shrugged as she dismissed the idea of it ever happening now. She claimed to have been between boyfriends, but her confidence made that seemed unlikely.
Throughout the conversation, Stryker watched the women’s reaction to him when he spoke. With the exception of Elle, they all avoided eye contact, and he wondered if he reminded them of Brody because of his size. He also realized that all they knew was that they were in cages one minute and the next Erin was unlocking the doors and leading them out of the building past two dead bodies.
“Erin, have you explained to the ladies what happened back there? How we got here?”
“I’ve been a little short of time.”
“Why don’t you do that now? They’re probably curious about it.” Erin launched into a monologue describing her own ordeal, the phone call to Sarge, how he picked up Stryker on the way to Baton Rouge, and then the rescue itself. When she finished, each of the young women hugged Sarge and Stryker in turn, whispering their thanks. The mood seemed to improve, although the little girl continued to remain mute and clutching Haley’s leg.
They spent the better part of an hour chatting, and then Sarge got down to business.
“Any of you women shoot?”
“Well, Erin and I do, but you know that,” Haley said.
“I have a carry permit,” Mia offered.
“What pistol?”
“.380 Ruger Compact.” Sarge nodded and turned to Stryker. “We need both vehicles to get back to the ranch. How do you want to do this, Stryker?”
“We need rest. I say we overnight here and head back first thing in the morning. You take Haley and Erin in the truck, and I’ll follow with the rest in the Jeep.”
“What are we eating tonight?” Sarge asked.
“I got that,” Erin replied. “There’s a lot of dry and canned food in the basement, and tons of water and soda, too. We can make dinner.”
“Does the stove work?”
“Yes. It’s gas.”
“Okay, why don’t the three of us get some sleep? The rest of you can take guard duty until dinner.” Sarge handed his XD to Haley, kissed her cheek, and Erin came over and the three hugged. Sarge left the room and made his way to one of the three bedrooms.
“If something comes up, come get me before you try to deal with it, unless you have no choice,” Stryker said.
“Okay.”
Erin and Stryker also went into separate bedrooms, still carrying their weapons. Stryker left his door open.
“Dinner’s on you, Haley,” Erin said before she closed her door.
Four hours later, Stryker woke up, got dressed, brushed his teeth, and went back to the living room. Some of the women sat chatting and Haley was speaking softly to the girl. He carried his M-4 in his right hand.
“When did she start talking?” Stryker asked.
“Right after you went to bed. I think she’s more comfortable around women.”
“What did she say?”
“Short version is that her dad went to find food and she went out and played in the front yard. The trucks drove by and snatched her. Her mother is ‘with God,’ and she’s worried that her dad will be mad at her because she wasn’t supposed to go outside.”
“Does she want to go home?”
“Yes.”
“You know where she lives?”
“2321 Elm Street, Baton Rouge.” The little girl spoke the address by rote. “Her parents obviously made her memorize it.”
“What’s her name?”
“Mary.”
“Mary. What a pretty name. Are you sure you want to go home?” Stryker asked softly after taking a knee in front of her. She nodded without looking up.
“You know where Elm Street is?” Stryker asked Haley.
“Yes.”
“Keep the pistol. I’m going to wake up your grandpa and then you and I can take her
home.” Stryker left the room and woke Sarge up by gently shaking his shoulder.
“What now?” Sarge grumbled.
“The girl has a father and Haley knows the address of the house. Can you get up and keep an eye on things?”
“Sure.” He got out of bed and started lacing his boots. A few minutes later, he entered the dining room. Stryker handed him a cup of coffee and sipped his own as both men struggled to become fully awake.
“How far away is the house?” Stryker asked.
“About 10 miles or so,” Haley replied.
“We’ll be back in around forty minutes,” Stryker said. “Haley, write the address down on paper and give it to your grandpa, please.”
Haley gave Stryker directions as they moved toward the girl’s home. They got onto a freeway briefly, then exited on a secondary road. After a few minutes, they saw the sign for Elm Street. It was lined with old elm trees and the neighborhood reeked of money and influence. Houses sat further back from the street, brick replaced siding, shade covered the sidewalks, and the lawns fell away from the street like green bays and inlets of a lake. The neighborhood was serene, time honored, and immersed in the symbols of privilege and class.
They stopped in front of Mary’s house, a soaring Victorian structure set at the end of the street amid massive leafy trees. It was impressive, even grand by any standard. The house towered over the nearest homes like a European cathedral over village huts, dominating the block with a royal quality. A long, stately walk found its junction with a flight of brick steps under the porch, where a swing-mounted love seat hung from the ceiling. The structure lay protected behind an iron fence peaked with spearheads at the tip of each bar.
“That’s my house,” Mary said. They got out of the pickup and were moving toward the gate when the front door exploded open and a thin, tall man burst through and ran to the gate. He fumbled with a key and managed to get it open, rushed through, and swept Mary into his arms.
“My God! He said. “Where were you?” They let Mary recount her story as the man wept and repeatedly hugged her. Stryker examined Mary’s father carefully. He noted bird-like hands and well-maintained fingernails, neatly trimmed. He wore pressed cargo pants and a tucked-in, buttoned-down shirt.
Stryker: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale Page 7
