Battle Lines (The Survivalist Book 5)

by Arthur Bradley

  The park’s trailhead consisted of a rusty metal bench and an uneven patch of concrete pavers. A small dirt trail led into the park, weaving its way through thick patches of honeysuckle and elderberry. The foliage was so dense that they could barely see twenty feet into the dark passage.

  “We’re going in there?” she said. “It’s like a cave.” Samantha glanced back at the street. “Maybe we should stick to the street.”

  Tanner was also surprised by how unkempt the trail was, but he didn’t dare give her reason to question their chosen path. The alternative was to walk several miles along streets that had already proven to be the stomping ground of violent gangs.

  “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know. It’s from the poem by Robert Frost.”

  She shrugged. “Never heard of him.”

  “You’ve never heard of Robert Frost?”

  “I’ve heard of Frosty the Snowman,” she said with a giggle.

  He smiled, glad to see that her spirits were improving.

  “The poem suggests that taking the less-traveled path is sometimes what defines our future.”

  She turned back to the dark path and weighed the wisdom of the words.

  “Fine,” she said. “We can walk through the park. But if we run into werewolves, I’m going to be very upset with Mr. Frost.”

  “You and me both.”

  Without further protest, she followed him down the dark trail. It was cool under the thick canopy of birch and oak, and the air was unusually silent. They walked for nearly a quarter mile without saying a word, both of them trying to decide whether nature was to be embraced or feared.

  Having finally made up her mind, Samantha said, “You were right.”

  “About what?”

  “This forest.” She plucked a leaf from an overhanging branch. “It’s kind of peaceful.”

  Tanner nodded. It was peaceful. But that was also what bothered him. There were no birds singing, and few squirrels playing in the trees. If the Discovery Channel was to be believed, the stillness meant that danger lurked nearby. With trees and shrubs blocking their view on both sides of the path, however, they were left with no choice but to trudge ahead until something decided to challenge them.

  Five minutes later, they came upon a small stream trickling over a bed of stones. Tanner stepped over, but Samantha stopped and squatted down beside the water.

  “Do you think it’s safe to drink?” she asked, scooping up a handful.

  “Maybe in another hundred years.”

  She studied the water.

  “What’s the red swirly stuff?”

  He stepped back across and knelt down next to her. Wisps of red swirled through the water, slowly dissolving until the entire handful turned a shade of pink. Similar streaks of red snaked their way through the flowing water.

  “What do you think it is?” she asked, scooping up another handful.

  He stood and turned to look upstream.

  “Blood.”

  She pulled her hands apart, letting the water fall away.

  “Blood? Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. And whatever’s bleeding out is close by.”

  She stood up and followed his gaze.

  “How do you know that?”

  “The blood hasn’t fully dissolved.” He dropped his pack to the ground. “Leave your gear, and let’s go see what it is.”

  “Why in the world would we do that?”

  “You’re not curious?”

  She shrugged. “Well, sort of.” She set her pack next to his. “You don’t think anyone will grab our stuff, do you?”

  “If they do, we’ll track them down and get it back.”

  “All right,” she said, readying her rifle. “Let’s go see what’s what.”

  He smiled. She was sounding more like him every day.

  They headed up river, walking on opposite sides of the stream. The blood grew thicker and more defined with every step. By the time they found the carcass, the water was laced with thick cords of bright red blood. The animal must have stood nearly four feet at the shoulder and easily weighed three hundred pounds. A huge set of curved horns accounted for a good tenth of that weight. Most of its body was covered in light brown fur, with only the rump and hind legs spotted with thick white patches. The animal’s abdomen had been chewed open, and its guts bobbed in the water like a fisherman’s lure.

  Samantha cringed. “What is it?”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a bighorn sheep.”

  “I thought bighorn lived in the mountains of Colorado and places like that.”

  “They do.”

  He squatted and inspected the carcass. Deep lacerations covered all four of the animal’s legs, indicating that whatever had brought it down had started low and worked its way up. The bighorn’s belly gaped open, exposing a nearly empty cavity from which the predator had eaten his way to the tastiest organs.

  “What do you think killed it?”

  He shook his head. “No idea.”

  “Dogs?” she said, looking around as if expecting to find a pack sneaking up on her.

  “No, not dogs. This was something else.”

  He moved over to study a set of bloody tracks that led deeper into the woods. The predator clearly walked on four legs, and its print consisted of a palm and five long fingers. If it hadn’t been for the long claws, the tracks might have been mistaken for human handprints. Centered between the prints was a thick stripe of blood from where the creature’s tail had dragged through the carnage.

  Samantha stepped across the stream and squatted down next to him.

  “It looks like a dinosaur’s footprint.”

  “Last time I checked, dinosaurs didn’t live in D.C.”

  “Maybe not,” she countered, “but neither do bighorn sheep.”

  Tanner stood up and took one last look at the carcass.

  “This one’s a mystery. Come on, let’s get on our way.”

  “Yeah,” she said warily. “Good idea.”

  They returned back downstream at a pace that was noticeably faster than the outgoing trip. Their packs lay exactly where they had left them, and there were no signs of anything having disturbed the area.

  As Samantha slipped on her backpack, she glanced over the blood-laced water.

  “We should be careful.”

  “We’re always careful.”

  “Even more careful then.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because anything that could bring down a bighorn could bring down a person.”

  He nodded, tightening his grip on the shotgun. She was right. An animal capable of catching and killing a three-hundred-pound bighorn sheep either had speed or stealth, not to mention a set of teeth that could chomp through bone and muscle.

  Determined to put a little distance between themselves and any would be predator, they started back down the trail with a fresh sense of vigor. Even the quickened pace, however, couldn’t quiet their uneasiness. With every mysterious snap of a twig or rustle of leaves, they paused to peer into the dark forest, wondering what horror lay hiding in the bush.

  “Do you think the dinosaur will try to kill us?” she asked.

  “It’s not a dinosaur.”

  “Whatever. Do you think it’s hunting us?”

  “If it comes for us, we’ll kill it,” he said, dodging the question.

  “With what?”

  “What do you mean with what?” He patted the shotgun. “With this baby.”

  “Dinosaurs can’t be killed by normal bullets.”

  “What?” he said, wrinkling his brow.

  “I think it takes missiles and tanks.”

  “Missiles?”

  “Yep. They have really thick skin that stops bullets.”

  “We’re in trouble then because I didn’t bring any missiles.”

  Samantha turned and looked back the way they had come.
<
br />   “Maybe we should go back.”

  “It’s a half mile back to the trail head. If this creature wants us, it’ll catch us either way. Let’s just keep going.”

  They continued on, neither of them enjoying the feeling of being hunted. After another few hundred feet, they came to a second stream, this one much wider than the first but equally as shallow. An old wooden bridge constructed from thick railroad ties crossed over the water. As they started across the bridge, a tremendous trumpeting sound echoed through the trees up ahead.

  Samantha grabbed Tanner’s arm.

  “The dinosaur!”

  Tanner wanted to argue the point, but even as he started to tell her how ridiculous that was, they heard branches splinter as something huge pushed its way through the trees.

  “You hear that?” she asked, her voice trembling. “It’s coming.”

  He squared himself on the bridge and readied the shotgun.

  “Good.”

  “Good? Are you crazy?”

  “Better that we see what’s after us.”

  The cracking of trees grew louder, and for a moment, Tanner wondered if she might actually be right. Then they saw it. An enormous African bush elephant plodded down the hiking trail, its tusks splintering off branches and chunks of bark as it pushed its way through the thick foliage. Standing twelve feet tall and weighing more than six tons, it was a member of the largest land animals in the world. Its pale gray skin was smeared with mud, and powerful ivory tusks extended several feet in front of its body. The giant animal approached the far side of the bridge and stopped.

  Tanner stood with his mouth hanging open.

  “It’s an elephant,” whispered Samantha.

  “I know what it is, but it shouldn’t be here.”

  She shrugged. “But it is.”

  “What do you say we give it the right of way?” He stepped in front of Samantha and started to slowly back up.

  “Okay, but please don’t shoot him.”

  “Him? How do you know it’s a male?”

  “Are you kidding? Look at him. He’s huge.”

  Not knowing enough to argue either way, Tanner only nodded.

  “You won’t shoot him, right?”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Buckshot won’t bring down something that size.”

  “I told you… missiles and tanks.”

  The elephant flared his ears and edged up to the bridge, testing the flooring with one foot. The old wooden beams creaked under his weight.

  “If he charges, go under the bridge. Maybe the gap is narrow enough that he won’t be able follow.” Tanner was in no way sure of what he was saying, but trying to outrun a full-grown bull elephant didn’t seem like a winning strategy.

  “Wait,” she said, pushing against him. “Elephants are really smart. You said so yourself.”

  “When did I say that?”

  “You did, trust me.”

  “Okay. So?”

  She stepped around him and set her rifle and backpack down.

  “Maybe he’s just scared.” She pulled out a small box of raisins and dumped some in her hand. “And hungry.” She extended her hand and started walking slowly toward the elephant. “Easy, boy. We don’t mean you any harm. I’ve got a nice little treat for you.”

  The elephant stepped back off the bridge and shifted his front feet around.

  “Sam, no,” Tanner said, reaching for her.

  She looked back at him.

  “We’re not going to fight him. You said so yourself. And I doubt we can outrun or hide from him. It’s better that we all become friends.”

  “And if he charges?”

  “I’ll jump over the rail into the water.” She gently pulled free and continued her careful advance. “Let’s try it my way this time.”

  Tanner felt his gut twist, but he didn’t dare make a sudden move to grab her.

  The elephant raised his trunk into the air like a periscope as he sniffed in Samantha’s direction.

  She smiled and inched closer.

  “You don’t mean us any harm. Do you, big fella?”

  The huge beast lowered his trunk and turned his head slightly, shifting the enormous tusks away from her. She extended her hand, and the elephant brought his trunk around to inspect what she was holding. He touched her palm with the tip of his trunk and pinched it lightly with two finger-like extensions.

  “Go ahead. You can have them. They’re good.”

  He pinched some of the raisins and curled his trunk under to stuff them into his mouth. Samantha used her other hand to stroke the front of the elephant’s trunk. His skin felt thick and rubbery, like a pencil eraser, but it was also warm and covered in small wiry hairs. The elephant reached forward again and finished off the last of the raisins.

  Samantha slid her hand over to gently touch his ear. The tip of the flap was thin, but the base felt thick and warm. As she lightly rubbed his ear, the elephant made a chirping noise.

  “Careful, Sam,” Tanner said, not at all sure that befriending a twelve-thousand-pound creature was ever a good idea.

  “It’s all right,” she said over her shoulder. “He doesn’t want to hurt me.” She turned back to the elephant and continued to stroke his ear. “Do you, boy?”

  The elephant brought his trunk back up and gently touched her face.

  “See,” she said, looking back at Tanner. “He wants to be friends.”

  A huge glob of warm mucus suddenly blasted from the elephant’s trunk, spraying across Samantha’s face and chest. To her credit, she didn’t scream or jump away. Instead, she reached up, wiped the snot from her face, and flicked it to the ground. Then she turned back to the elephant and glared.

  “That was not nice.”

  He blinked once and then dropped a pile of dung behind him. Before she could chasten him further, he turned and lumbered down the trail.

  Samantha stood dumbfounded, covered in the sticky brown goo, listening as two sounds echoed through the forest... the soft thumping of the elephant’s footsteps and the hysterical laughter of a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound escaped convict.

  Chapter 7

  Mason stepped over a section of barbed-wire fencing that had blown into the road from a nearby farm. He turned and helped Leila over the small obstacle.

  “I appreciate you letting me travel with you for a bit, Marshal.”

  “Last time I refused to let a woman come along, she nearly shot me,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m trying to learn from my mistakes.”

  “Your girlfriend?”

  Mason thought about his relationship with Connie West. While they had been lovers for a short time and had even managed to part as friends, neither label seemed to fit.

  “We were something.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Relationships are complicated.”

  “Tell me again why you want to go into Lexington.”

  “It’s simple, really. Someone needs to tell people what happened here. It’s all part of the broader tragedy that started with the pandemic.”

  “Do you think anyone’s really going to listen?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not today, but one day they will. Who knows, they might even demand that justice be brought to those who created the virus.”

  Like Leila, Mason had long assumed that Superpox-99 was a biological weapon, but with world governments having all but collapsed, he thought it very doubtful that anyone would ever discover its true origin.

  “No one involved is ever going to come clean about how this thing got out.”

  “They may not have to. You know what they say about secrets?”

  “What’s that?”

  “It takes a lot of people to keep them.”

  He shrugged. “You may be right. Someone may let it slip.”

  “Besides, even if the truth remains hidden, perhaps my work will help future generations to prevent this sort of thing from ever happening again.”

  “You’re assuming that mankind will still be around in a hundred years.”<
br />
  “We’ll make it,” she said confidently. “We always do.”

  “Yeah,” he breathed, “I suppose you’re right.”

  “For now, we must all find reasons to go on.”

  “Our personal missions.”

  She smiled. “Exactly.”

  “And yours is to document the darkest chapter in mankind’s history? It seems like a terribly dreary job.”

  “Maybe, but when I’m finished, the world will have a little closure.”

  Mason nodded thoughtfully. “It sounds like a noble cause.”

  “And you, Marshal? Why are you out here?”

  “I suppose I’m doing what I was born to do.”

  “Bringing criminals to justice?”

  “Holding people accountable.”

  She eyed him. “That almost sounds like you’re driven more by revenge than justice.”

  “It depends on the day.”

  Leila paused and then said, “Do you mind if I ask how many men you’ve killed over the years?”

  Mason considered the question for a moment. It was the kind of thing people asked lawmen from time to time, and he thought the answer often said more about their character than their prowess with a gun.

  “Too many,” he said softly. “And not enough.”

  She squinted at him.

  “I sense you’re a hard man, Marshal Raines.” She cracked a small smile. “But a fair one too.”

  “I suppose.”

  “And revenge or not, I suspect that your quest is as noble as my own.”

  “You think so?”

  “Look around you.” She slowly spun in a circle with her arms outstretched. “The world is without rules or order, men acting on their basest instincts. Yet here you are with your gun and your giant dog, out trying to set things right. Sounds pretty noble to me.”

  He nodded his appreciation.

  “Sometimes I feel like I’m on a fool’s errand, a regular Don Quixote out battling windmills.”

  “Perhaps you are,” she laughed. “But think about it. Those are often the noblest quests of them all.”

  Bowie began barking, and they hurried ahead to see what he had found. The wolfhound was standing directly beneath the I-75 overpass, cars of every shape, size, and color jamming the interstate above. The shockwave had thrown a few of the cars through the concrete railing, and they now lay on Winchester Road, upside down and smashed.