by Doug Kelly
Doc did not wait for a response. He turned his back to Dylan and Kevin, reaching for Dorothy’s wrist to check her pulse. He confidently nodded his head in agreement with himself regarding his assessment of her condition. He connected a new bag of saline solution to the IV and decreased the solution’s flow rate into her arm.
“You know you’re going to need our help…don’t you?” said Doc assuredly, as he flicked his finger against the IV’s clear plastic drip chamber, trying to remove some small bubbles. “Cyrus has a lot of men. His gang is getting bigger every day.”
“Keep talking,” said Kevin.
“He is a real threat to our survival. We have to go through that area to get water from the river. Getting coal off the coal cars was helpful, too. Cyrus has changed that for us, so he has to go. I won’t ask you what your motivation is, but I think we share a common goal.”
“I’m still listening,” said Kevin.
“There are at least half a dozen very capable men in our group that will go with you. One of them is Hector, and Bull is getting him now. Hector was a foreman at the railroad hub before the grid went down.”
There was quick knock on the door. Bull and Hector stepped into the room. Hector looked at the weapons still in the hands of Dylan and Kevin. Although he was just told that they were not a threat, Hector kept a cautious eye on the two men. He gave a quick nod as a greeting and stayed several paces away from both of them. Hector wore a loose shirt that covered his beltline, and had tucked his pistol into the back of his pants. He stood with one hand behind his back in an unthreatening, but ready, position. Hector was a native of Mexico and had come to America with his parents when he was young. Although he did finally gain US citizenship through military service, his early years in the U.S. were nomadic and rough. His parents worked difficult jobs for little money, and so did Hector. He had lived in dangerous neighborhoods all his life, learning early on not to trust anyone, and most of all, to stay well armed.
“Gentlemen, this is Hector.” Doc cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Our pleasantries were not extended to formal introductions yet. What are your names, anyway?” asked Doc, as he used both hands to move the thick glasses to the correct position on his face.
Dylan noticed the distant stance and the unblinking stare of Hector, and then realized that he had not completely aimed his rifle downward. He pointed the barrel to the floor, and then introduced himself and Kevin to Hector. Hector nodded his head again to acknowledge the greeting.
“Gentlemen, you need to go. I will stay with Dorothy. Discuss a plan of action and execute it…and Cyrus, if you like,” Doc said, with a euphoric laugh.
“Hold it. I haven’t agreed to anything yet. One condition isn’t negotiable for me. I get to kill Cyrus,” Kevin said, with absolute resolution. “Any problems with that?”
Bull looked around at the group and said, “I don’t care who does it.”
Everyone nodded, and an alliance was formed.
Doc motioned with his hands, waving the men toward the door. “Move along, you’re wasting time. Find the other men and get going.”
Bull opened the door for the men to leave the room. Dylan and Kevin could see the rest of the concrete structure they were standing in. It was a multilevel concrete parking garage. Bull led them around the structure and gave them a tour of the different levels as they gathered men for the nighttime raid against Cyrus. They started at the top level, where there were water buckets to catch rain. There were also wind turbines made from alternators they had removed from cars. The alternators had makeshift blades attached so that when the wind blew, it would turn the alternators, creating an electric current, and charge the car batteries. Those batteries ran their electric lights. They also were able to recharge batteries for handheld flashlights. He explained that the concrete structure was much like a medieval castle, with the height of the top level being useful as a lookout, and the concrete walls providing protection against bullets. The concrete garage would also not burn down. Fires were why so many people had ended up homeless. People’s homes had been burning down because of candles, inadequate fireplaces, and pure stupidity in using fire in their homes. Bull thought that the number of fires during the coming winter would be astronomical.
The underground levels of the concrete structure would remain cool in the summer, and because they were so far underground, would not get below freezing. The lowest levels were much like a cave. The food they had scavenged was stored below. That would keep them through the winter months. People who were homeless and without food could easily die over the winter. In the spring, they would to plant the seeds that they had stored, and hopefully be able to raise their own food. It would not take long to scavenge all the canned food and boxed goods. They all knew that it was critical to become self-sufficient.
Bull brought all the men to the lower level. He flipped a switch and the cavernous space was illuminated by the power of car batteries. He directed them to sit at a large table so they could discuss a plan of action. Hector used a piece of coal and created a rough map of the area where Cyrus was. He estimated there were nine sleeper cars and they were on the far side of the rail hub, closest to the river. The entry doors to the sleeper cars were on the west side and the river was on the east side of the tracks.
“Okay, Hector, how do we do this?” asked Bull.
Hector tossed the piece of coal to the ground and brushed the coal dust off his hands. He walked over to a small crate in a dark corner, grabbed something from it, and returned to the table. “This will get us started. Bullets will do the rest.” Hector was displaying a stick of dynamite.
“You’re the only one who knows how to use it,” said Bull skeptically. “And we only have a few sticks.”
“That’s right, four sticks exactly. We put this under every other car that they’re in, and boom, they wake up, run out of the cars scared to death, and our bullets take over from there.”
“How do we know which car Cyrus is in?” asked Kevin.
All the men looked to Hector for an answer. Hector scratched his head. “That’s a good question. Here’s a guess. When we get there, we’ll see if they have anyone on watch. If so, they’ll be near where Cyrus is sleeping. That’ll be your car.” He pointed to Kevin. “If they have someone on night watch, it’ll be somebody low in the organization, probably someone stupid and easy to control. That will make them an easy target for us.”
“What are the details of your plan, then?” asked Dylan.
“If there’s someone on watch, we get them with a rifle, and then wait to see if anyone heard the shot. If not, I sneak up and place the dynamite under the sleeper cars. We set off the dynamite and wait for them to run out. Then when they run out, we pick them off one by one.”
“What if they hear the shot that takes out the night watchman?” asked Bull.
“We will shoot through the walls and windows of the rail cars. That option isn’t as good.”
“The dynamite won’t blow up the cars?” asked Kevin.
“No, those cars have a massive steel undercarriage. One stick will just motivate them to leave.”
Dylan removed the two hand grenades from his backpack and placed them on the table. Hector smiled and leaned over to get one. He placed it on the palm of his hand and held it up to the light like a precious gem.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve used one of these. I was in the army for a few years. That’s where I was able to play with these. Where did you get them?”
Dylan pointed to Kevin. “We passed by a military base and got a few things a while ago. It’s a long story.”
“You’re going to have another story after this night.” Hector leaned over to grab the other grenade from the table. “You mind if I work with these?”
Dylan and Kevin both shrugged.
“Let’s get going,” ordered Bull.
The eight men stopped when they could see a fire near the Amtrak cars. The cars were exactly where Hector thought, in an open area next to the r
iver. They faced the side of the cars with the exit doors. To get out of the cars on the other side, near the river, would require someone to climb out the windows. In a hasty retreat, Cyrus’s men are going to run out the doors, and to their death. Hector went ahead alone to see if there was anybody on night guard duty. He returned and confirmed that one person was on watch near the lead car.
Slightly out of breath, Hector began to give out orders. “Kevin gets the lead car. That looks like it’s probably Cyrus’s location. Dylan, you get the next car after that. The rest of us will spread out along the remaining cars. There are nine cars total. If there are about ten people per car, then there’s close to ninety men in there. Make your bullets count.”
A man with a rifle and large scope stepped forward and said, “I’m ready.”
Hector grabbed the man’s shoulder and said, “He’s standing by the fire. If he’s been staring into the firelight, he’ll be fire blind and won’t see you. Take him out, and stay low to the ground. If they start coming out, shoot to kill and we’ll come running. If it stays quiet, cover me. I’m going to place the dynamite.”
The man disappeared into the darkness, moving toward the campfire. It was only a few minutes later that they heard a distant crack. The night guard’s body slumped over by the fire and the sleeper cars remained quiet.
“You’re up, Hector,” whispered Bull.
Hector slipped ahead to get the dynamite place, while the other men got into position. By the time all the men were about fifty yards away, Hector had the dynamite placed under the railcars. He ran back to them with the detonation cord in hand. He placed it on the ground and walked the line of men, having each one double check his weapon and placement of extra ammunition. He told each man to stay flat on the ground until ten seconds after the explosion, just in case of flying debris, then to stay spread out and low, to avoid crossing into someone’s line of fire.
Hector connected the detonator and whispered to himself, “Fire in the hole.”
The dynamite’s blast shook the railcars. Cyrus’s men stumbled down the steps, dazed and confused. They were unorganized and undisciplined, and most ran quickly into the line of fire and to their deaths. Within a few minutes, the shooting stopped. A few men held out. They were shouting obscenities and threatening to kill everyone outside. Hector stayed low and crawled to a broken window of a car that still had some of Cyrus’s men inside. Gripping a grenade, he pulled the pin and tossed the grenade into the car. The fragmentation grenade obliterated the remaining men. Bullets and shrapnel perforated all of the cars, except the lead. It was the car that they had expected Cyrus to be in, and Kevin was watching it intently, waiting for any movement, but he saw no one. Dylan came over to Kevin’s position.
Dylan tried to give Kevin his rifle. “Here, shoot it up if you don’t want to use your pistol.”
Kevin put his hand up, refusing the weapon. His eyes remained on the lead railcar.
“Something’s not right. I see a flickering candle burning inside. Nobody came out and nobody has moved inside. I’m going in.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Kevin,” said Dylan.
“I need to see his face when I kill him.”
Kevin brought his pistol up to a ready position and braced it with his other hand, where he held the flashlight that Bull had given him. He moved slowly forward and stepped into the lead car. He held the pistol directly in front of him, and he pushed each compartment open with his foot, shining the small light into each empty room. In the last sleeping compartment, there was a large candle burning in the center of a small table. Someone had closed all the windows. No one had escaped. The car was empty. Cyrus was not there. Kevin took the candle, lit the bedding on fire, and walked out of the railcar. Within minutes, the car was ablaze. He jumped to the ground and saw the men he was with, standing in a semicircle watching his return. He felt like a defeated man.
“Empty?” asked Bull.
“Completely empty,” said Kevin solemnly, “but that’s where he was, I just know it.”
“He can’t bother anybody now. He’s a broken man, wherever he is,” said Hector.
“Not good enough,” answered Kevin.
Chapter Fifteen
Dylan and Kevin left the rail yard. Bull, Hector, and the others decided to stay and patrol for any stragglers from Cyrus’s gang, as well as stack the remaining bodies to burn later. The two men walked directly back to Kevin’s apartment. Kevin was mute, lost in his thoughts. They were obsessive thoughts about Cyrus, his gang, and where he might be. Dylan tried to stay alert for both of them, but fatigue began overcoming the adrenaline rush of the night’s events. They arrived at the apartment building at daybreak. The rain had stopped hours ago. There was a cool morning breeze and not a cloud in the sky. The eastern horizon began to glow with sunlight, waking the songbirds at the park across the street from Kevin’s apartment building.
The stench inside the lobby remained oppressive. Dylan ripped the drapes from a large window in the building’s lobby. He placed the drapes beside the body in the stairwell. They rolled the corpse onto the fabric, and then pulled the dead body outside.
“We should bury this. It’s putrid,” said Kevin, looking toward the park.
“I’ve got to rest,” said Dylan, as he sat on the concrete sidewalk. He then went flat on his back, and closed his eyes.
Kevin stepped back off the sidewalk and sat on the hood of a car with broken windows. “Hey, do you think what we did was right?” asked Kevin.
Dylan opened his eyes and turned his head to look up at Kevin. “What do you mean? Not burying that body?”
Kevin was looking at the ground and slowly shaking his head. “No. What we just came back from. We helped kill a lot of people.”
Dylan jumped to his feet. “What? Those weren’t girl scouts back there. You saw what that pack of wolves was capable of.”
“I’m just sick of all this shit.” Kevin looked up from the street, and then looked around, surveying the desolation. “What happened to everyone? They’re all animals. Disgusting animals.”
Dylan took a step back and threw his hands in the air. “I’m sick of this shit, too.” He put his hands on his hips, tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He lowered his head again, looking directly at Kevin, and slowly exhaled. “There’s not a damn thing we can do about it. Let’s get your wife and get the hell out of here.”
This time the hallway was not so dark on Kevin’s floor. The morning light had begun to fill the sky and the hallway, too. Kevin knocked on this door.
“Mary…Mary, it’s me…open the door.”
Within seconds, Kevin heard his wife running toward the door. Mary swung the door open wildly and stared at Kevin. The morning light illuminated a man quite different from the man that left her several months ago. She could see him clearly now. He was dirty, had longer hair and a beard. His beard camouflaged his thin smile. He was happy to see her, but his body was fighting back with hunger and fatigue. She stepped forward, hugged him, and wrapped her arms tightly around his body. He bent over far enough that his bearded face touched her cheek. He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. She whispered into his ear, “Don’t leave me again.”
All three of them went into the apartment and locked the door behind them. Inside, Dylan found the couch and Kevin sat on a chair with his wife on his lap.
“Kevin, I’m starving,” said Dylan.
“Honey, we need to eat, and then we need to sleep. We have been awake for…uh,” said Kevin, pausing as he rubbed his bearded face and briefly tried to remember when the last time was that he had slept. “I don’t know how long.” He leaned his head back, thinking of food, and closed his eyes. “What do you have to eat?”
“I was awake all night, too.” Mary playfully hit her husband on the shoulder, and then jumped up off her husband’s lap. “I’ll get some food ready.” She walked halfway to the kitchen, but abruptly turned around. “Oh, I forgot about the water. Can you go get the
buckets from the roof?”
Kevin opened his eyes and looked at Dylan.
“Let’s go,” said Dylan, stiffly getting up. “No rest for the weary.”
On the roof, they could feel the morning sunlight still warming the air. The sun had come up past the horizon, casting long shadows from the tall buildings. Mary had set ten buckets on the roof, and arranged tarps and sheets of plastic to direct the rainwater into the buckets. Before they took the buckets of water back to the apartment, the men looked around the surrounding area from the rooftop. This height gave them a good vantage point to study what to expect in an urban area.
Stalled cars filled the streets below and the cars were vandalized, most having broken windows, although some were burned, too. There was a large building in the distance with smoke still rising from it. Trash littered the streets, some of it collected in small piles by the wind and the rest dispersed across the urban landscape. Movement in the city park across the street got their attention. It was a pack of dogs. People were either no longer able to feed their pets, or the owners had already died. The dogs were chasing a rabbit. The rabbit was running and turning as fast as it could, but the pack was gaining. The alpha dog captured the rabbit and the rabbit let out a high-pitched screech before the dog shook it, breaking its neck. The dogs hastily devoured the rabbit and the pack moved onward, noses to the ground in their search for another meal.
“Hey, Kevin, earlier you asked me if what we did was right. Now I have a question for you. Do you want to be the dog or the rabbit?”
Kevin put his foot on the roof’s parapet, bent forward, and then rested an elbow on his elevated knee. He continued to look at the park while he stroked his beard and contemplated Dylan’s question.
“A dog,” replied Kevin, pausing to look at the desolate street below before he added, “with a conscience.”
Dylan slapped him on the back and said, “Good answer. Let’s go before I chase down a rabbit and eat it raw, too.”
Kevin quietly laughed and looked back at the pack of dogs wandering around with their noses sniffing the air and the ground, looking for their next kill. The humor of his comment faded away as he thought about his answer to Dylan’s question. Kevin knew it was survival of the fittest now. He did not ever want to kill and enjoy it, but he wanted to survive, and he still wanted revenge.
