by Christa Lynn
“Why does he have your knife?”
“I’m going to gut this wolf, it’s pretty good eating,” Joel says as he gets up and proceeds to slice open the wolf carcass and pull out thick chunks of meat. “If that fire is still burning, we can cook it,” he says as he throws a slab of meat over his shoulder.
“Lead the way,” I say as I go back to get Lady and we follow him to his fire pit and watch him as he throws the meat on. Lance lays down the blackberries and we rest on ground snacking on berries while the meat cooks. After a rest and an interrogation of Joel, he decides to come along for the fight.
“You ever been to Arrow’s Crossing?” I ask Joel.
“Yeah, I think so. It’s about eight miles that way,” he says pointing off to the east.
“Anything there?”
“Not sure I paid attention, why?”
“We’re looking for an old farm, a girl we picked up recently is from there and we’re trying to help her find her family.”
“I don’t remember too many people being there, the town was wiped out. Nothing but burned-out ruins and debris.”
“But that’s in town, anything on the outskirts?”
“Didn’t go out that way. I stayed in town looking for food and things. Didn’t have much luck.”
“All right, well, can you lead the way?”
“Yeah, I know where to go.” We follow Joel off into the woods to see if we can find something for Jo—either her family or the information she needs to let go and move on.
After stopping to rest overnight, we’re finally on the edge of what once was Arrow’s Crossing. Joel was right—there’s not much left here. You can vaguely see where the town square once was, but the whole area is abandoned and vacant, much like the rest of the country. Mercs and Heretics gather in pockets around the country and this apparently is not one of either. We stand along the edge of an old broken up road and try and figure out which way to go. I almost wish Jo was here so she could direct us, though I don’t think she’d recognize the place after all these years.
Burned down buildings are overrun with weeds and brush, broken glass and other debris scatter the ground. You can tell it’s been pillaged numerous times and anything that might have been left behind is long gone.
We walk toward the edge of the square and find an old paved road, cracked and split in places but still able to be traveled on. Lance is on Lady now, Abe and I up ahead, and Joel picking up the rear keeping a close watch on anything or anyone that might surprise us. The entire area is abandoned, and it’s quiet, just the occasional wild animal scurrying through the underbrush. We hear each one and every time prepare to shoot whatever it is, human or animal.
As we crest a small hill, I see it—an older farm house that appears to be holding its own. The old white wood is faded and peeling, windows hang from their frames and one side is leaning, but it’s still standing. We approach with caution, and as we step onto the wooden front porch, you can hear the wood creak. Rotten boards are along the edge near the front door, which stands wide open. The construction reminds me of the main home at the compound, and I know this is Jo’s old home. She told me the compound reminded her of home, and this is the only farm on this road that we’ve seen.
Abe and Lance each walk around one side of the home and Joel is behind me, still a little skittish of what he’s gotten himself into. All I know that once we get back to the Dog Pound, he’ll realize he made the right decision. We all need to keep our guard up, and he needs to be wary of us as well as us watching him. He’s the new kid on the block, and until we learn to trust each other, we have to stay focused. I can let my guard down around Abe and Dale, but not Joel. Not yet.
I step across the threshold, and the house is warm and musty, mold creeping along the walls from the rains. The floor is soft and can’t handle too much weight, so Joel and I move slowly through the house. Just like the town square, it’s been pillaged through and picked clean of anything useful. As we turn the corner I see one old photograph on the wall, the glass shattered and the frame split, but the photo is still in good shape. I slide the photo out of the frame and instantly recognize Jo. She was young, probably eleven or twelve, but that coal-black hair is unmistakably Jo. I tuck the photo into my backpack and move on down the hall toward the kitchen.
The kitchen table is still there, old newspapers and broken dishes clutter the top. I pick up the faded paper and read the date, which was three days before the war started. The headline stating the Heretics were planning an attack, somewhere in the US and that the terror alert had been risen to Code Red, the highest it could go.
The stack of papers is pretty thick so I grab the bottom one which also talks about an impending attack on US soil, dated three weeks prior. This must have been when Jo’s dad started planning, stocking that bunker. I tuck the entire stack of papers into the backpack with the photo, as there isn’t much left from before the war, and once we get our country back, these will be historical.
The back door slams, and I jump, Joel behind me raising his gun. I stand back and Joel moves in front of me, possibly trying to prove his worth to me. Over the last few hours, he’s moved past his skittish being and seems to be a strong kid. He’s probably had to be over the years and is just happy to be with other people that aren’t trying to kill him.
Abe stands at the back door huffing and puffing, like he’s been running. “What’s the matter?” I ask, stepping around Joel.
“Lance, he’s … Fuck, he fell into a deep hole in the backyard, the ladder going down is rotten, and I can’t get him out.”
“The bunker, maybe?”
“Yeah, could be. Is there any rope around here?”
“Not that I’ve found, but I can grab Lady’s and meet you out back.”
“Okay, it’s way back there past the corn fields and back into the woods.”
“The corn fields?” I ask, remembering Jo telling me about their run through the rows. “They’re still there?”
“Yeah, not much corn on them, mostly dried up stalks.”
“I can imagine. Okay, head back, and I’m right behind you. Joel, you stay here and make sure Lady doesn’t run off. Got it?”
“Got it,” he says as I follow Joel back outside and I undo her rope.
“Fire off a warning shot if something happens,” I say handing him his rifle.
I walk around the side of the old home, stepping over debris and branches that have fallen over the years. I wind the rope around my arm and shoulder and hike toward the back of the property, finally finding the old bunker.
“Lance, you all right?” I call down the hole.
“Yeah, I think my ankle is broken, but I’m okay.”
“Okay, shit … We’ve got to get you out of there.”
“Yeah, but …”
“But what?”
“I’m not alone down here.”
“What do you mean you’re not alone?” I say, ready to drop another weapon down there if he needs it.
“There’s a guy down here and he’s in pretty bad shape. Looks like he’s been beaten senseless, but no gunshot or knife wounds. He’s bleeding from the mouth and he’s unconscious. Hasn’t been here long that I can tell, bruises look fresh. Looks as if he was dumped in here, I can imagine he’s got some broken ribs and possibly a skull fracture. This cement floor is hard and that’s a long way down.”
“Okay, sit tight. I’m coming down.”
“Yeah, don’t think I’m going anywhere, Kane,” he smarts off.
I toss the rope to Abe, and he ties it to the closest tree. It’s not very long, but hopefully it’s long enough get down there. After Abe has it as tight as he can get it, I wrap around my wrist and slowly lower myself in to the dark hole.
I drop to the concrete floor and look around, trying to get my eyes to focus on the dark. A small lantern sits to my right so I fiddle with it, but it’s out of kerosene and the wick is dried up. It’s obviously been some time since anyone has used it. “Okay, guess we g
et to do this in the dark,” I say, my eyes finally adjusting to the dark, but only a little.
I get to my knees and feel around, finding Lance against the wall, his foot cocked to the side. I don’t even need to feel it to know it’s broken. “I need a piece of straight wood so I can splint your leg. Not only is your ankle broken, so is your leg,” I say as he groans in pain and frustration.
“Get the other guy first, Kane. He’s in bad shape.”
I scoot on my knees to avoid stepping on anyone and find the man lying, my hands now wet with his blood that has pooled around his head. “Damn it,” I say wiping the blood off onto my jeans. I feel around and find an old towel, so I wrap it around his head and do my best to tighten it in order to stop the blood. “I need to get him out of here before I can fully see his injuries. Abe, can you find anymore rope?”
“I’ll look, be right back,” he says as he runs off, his booted footsteps fading above us. I roll the guy carefully to his back and press my fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse. It’s slow and shallow, but it’s there. “If I don’t get him out of here fast, he’s gonna die,” I say as stand to see what else is in here. I see the shadow of a bottle at the end of the table and quickly realize it’s kerosene, and after picking it up I realize it’s full. It’s old, so it may not work, but I grab the lantern and add the kerosene. “Now how to light it,” I mumble just as my eyes spy an old pack of matches. “Fuck, they’ve got everything down here,” I say as I strike the match, but they’re so old it doesn’t light. There are only a few in there, so I hope I can get lucky and at least one lights.
I’m down to one left, and I say a quiet prayer that this one lights. I press it against the side of the box and flick it quickly, the stick igniting and the warm glow filling the small space. I light the lantern and let the dust sparks fly off before picking it up and holding it in front of me to see what else is down here.
“Holy shit,” Lance says as he looks around the now-lit bunker. There’s an arsenal of weapons and ammo in the corner, bottles of water stacked up and canned goods. The water is probably too old to drink, but I can damn sure use it to clean a wound. I also find a pile of rope in the other corner, and as I pull it out, I quickly realize it’s an old rope ladder. Jo’s dad must have expected that and had a secondary means of escape should the ladder in the entryway deteriorate or if someone destroyed it.
“Abe?” I call up the hole, but he’s not back yet. “Fuck,” I mumble. I untangle the rope ladder and find the hooks at the end. I drape it over my shoulder and jump up, catching Lady’s rope and scaling the wall. My fingers grip the edge and as I’m just about to hoist myself over, a huge boot comes into my line of vision and steps onto my fingers. I look up, and it’s an older man, gray hair and beard, with an evil look in his wrinkled eyes. He’s pointing his shotgun at my head and his hands are shaking.
I release my hands, hoping to fall back into the bunker, but his weight holds me in place. “What are you doing in there, boy?” he asks, cocking his gun and placing it against the top of my head. I don’t speak because lingering behind him is Abe, his AK resting on his shoulder and aimed at the old man’s head. I grip my fingers again because I know Abe won’t hesitate to blow the old man’s head off.
“I think you might want to move back, old man,” I say nodding my head toward Abe. My arms are burning and my feet are going numb from hanging here, but I refuse to drop unnecessarily into this bunker. The old man’s boot leaves my fingers and he reaches down and takes my hand, yanking me up out of the bunker and to my feet, barely struggling to pull me up. He stands back and his eyes go back and forth between Abe and me. He surrenders and lowers his gun, setting it on the ground beside him and kicking it away.
“Look, boys, I don’t need no trouble ‘round here. I had enough with them bastards that just left.”
“What bastards?” I ask, Abe still holding is AK, prepared for anything.
“Hey, Kane?” Lance yells from the bunker?
“Someone else down there?” the old man asks, peering into the hole.
“Yeah, one of my men and another injured man. We’re trying to get them out,” I say.
“Well, let’s get them out then,” he says taking the rope ladder off my shoulder. “You never know when them bastards will be back,” he says as he hooks the ladder to the edge.
“What bastards?” I ask again.
“Them asshole Heretics. They hung around for a few days. Not sure what they was lookin’ fer.”
“Looking for?”
“Yeah, whatever they can find, I reckon. I ‘magine they dumped the other guy down there, ‘cause he got in their way. I saw ‘em from my place beating him up.”
“Do they know about this bunker?”
“I ‘spose. They tossed his ass in there,” he growls sarcastically.
“We need to get the guys and get out, or another gunfight may ensue if they come back.”
“Who are you guys?” the old man asks.
“Mercenaries,” I respond as I descend the ladder back into the bunker. He grunts, but he doesn’t seem afraid.
I get back down and go to the man that’s lying there, his breathing is slow and uneven, but he’s still alive. Though I’m not sure for how much longer. I know I’m taking a risk on any broken bones, but we’ve got to get him out. I’ll deal with the repercussions later. I find a two by four and an old towel and splint Lance’s leg before getting him to his feet. “We may have to break that again later, but for now it should hold you long enough to get you out. Abe and that old man are up top and will pull you free.”
He climbs up, slowly and painfully, but he manages to get to the top and Abe pulls him free. I find an old basket with a handle and fill it with weapons and ammo to take with us, which is better than it falling into the wrong hands. I tie the solo rope to it and the old man pulls it up and sets it aside while Abe tends to Lance.
I roll the man to a sitting position and hoist his limp body over my shoulder, the blood from his head oozing down my back, my t-shirt now sticking to my skin and the metallic smell fills my nostrils.
I grab the rope rung of the ladder and slowly climb up, one rung at a time. It’s not very steady and my feet are shaking with the extra weight. As I get closer to the top, the old man and Abe pull him off of my shoulders and I head back down for the supplies I gathered. The less ammo available for the Heretics, the better this world would be.
“So how did you survive being around the Heretics?” I ask the old man after I climb back out of the bunker.
“They didn’t see me. I stayed in my house and watched from a distance.”
“They didn’t ransack your place?”
‘Nah, it’s half burned out. I sleep in the side that survived the initial explosion. No one has come close to it.”
“Guess you got lucky, old man. They tend to shoot first and ask questions later,” Abe tells him. “Let’s get this man in the house and patch him up best we can before we need to start heading back to the compound.”
“Y’all got a compound?” the old man asks as he takes the man’s feet and Abe grabs his head. I’ve got Lance under one arm as a crutch as we make our way back through the remnants of the corn field back to the house. We get the men back inside and lay him on the floor, placing an old, dusty pillow under his head.
“I’ll go check on Joel,” I say as Abe gets Lance get situated.
“You got another man here?” the old man asks. “And what about this compound?”
I try to ignore him, but he’s been a big help so I motion him to come with me outside to check on Joel. We open the front door and Joel is sitting on the ground, his back against the side of the house and Lady is grazing on some grass. “No trouble out here?” I ask Joel, and he jumps to his feet.
“No, sir, nothing at all.”
“Good, keep your eyes peeled. Apparently, the Heretics were here recently, so they may not be far away. They notice activity here, they’re liable to come back.”
“Who’s that guy?” Joel asks, his eyes cutting to the old man in the doorway.
“Not sure yet, we’re still figuring that out. But he helped me get Lance and the other man out of the bunker.”
“Other man?” he asks, his face strengthening and his jaw tight.
“Relax, kid, he’s unconscious. Lance found him in the bunker with the shit beaten out of him. He was pushed in there and left to die, but that’s not gonna happen on my watch,” I say as I pull the first-aid kit out of the bag on Lady’s back. Abe comes out of the house and hands me the rope, so I tie Lady back up. “Come on in,” I tell him as I walk back inside.
Lance is sitting on an old, beat-up sofa with his leg propped up on a metal crate, his face scrunched up in pain. He’ll have to wait, though, because I need to stop the bleeding on our mystery man. Now that we have sunlight, I can see the gash next to his ear, possibly from a steel-toed boot. I manage to stop the bleeding and get him as comfortable as possible before I examine his ribs and other bones. “Seems he’s got a few broken ribs, I just hope there’s no puncture wound to his lungs.”
The old man leaves for a bit and comes back with a blanket and drapes it over the man’s body, “He’s goin’ into shock, man,” the old man says.
“Good eye, old man,” I say, tucking the blanket tightly around his body.
“Name’s Walt.”.
“Thanks, Walt,” I tell him as I lean back against the wall, my arms still burning from holding on to that ladder. “Tell me something, Walt.”
“Whadya wanna know?”
“Why you stepped on my fingers while I was hanging on for dear life.”
“I thought you was one of them,” he says. “Now I know you ain’t.”
“Right, I’m damn sure not one of them,” I say.
“Well, I didn’t know then, son,” he says as he tosses me a jar of moonshine that he brought back from his place. I take a big swallow and the pure grain alcohol burns my throat as it goes down.
“Holy shit,” I cough.
