Desperation

by Bruno Miller

  Ben climbed into the Blazer and stood on the doorsill so he could see over the roof to the other vehicles. “I’ll bring up the rear until we get back out on the highway. Everybody go in the order the trucks are in now.” Ben would be more comfortable if he could keep an eye on the entire group for the time being. He watched as the others nodded in agreement from their vehicles.

  It would be Martin in the Scout first, then Rita and Carlos, followed by Joel, with the Blazer bringing up the rear. Ben slid down into the seat and fired up the old Chevy, breathing a small sigh of relief that the truck started without any problems. It wasn’t that he expected any, but with the number of miles they were putting on the vehicles, mechanically speaking, every good day was a gift not to be taken for granted.

  With all four vehicles backed out of their parking spaces, they began to wind their way through the parking lot and toward the main road. This was also the way the looters had run, and Ben kept his eyes peeled for any signs of them, although after what happened to their friend, he doubted they would still be around. He was more concerned they would run back to a larger group and alert others to their presence in town. They only needed a few minutes to make it out to the highway and put this place in their rearview mirror. He hoped they had that much time.

  “Wow, that really took off fast.” Sandy was staring back at the motel. Emma was watching as well. The section of the building they had stayed in was fully engulfed in flames and would soon look like the rest of the places around here. As they weaved their way through the wrecked cars that littered Main Street, Ben was careful to keep an eye out behind them while admiring the growing inferno.

  Martin seemed to be driving slower than normal this morning, too slow for Ben’s liking and what the situation called for. And while Ben appreciated him taking it easy on the old Scout for a change, now wasn’t the time. He honked the Blazer’s horn a couple of times and stuck his hand out the window, indicating for everyone to pick up the pace. Martin was probably holding back because he knew he screwed up this morning and nearly caused a lot more trouble than necessary.

  Fortunately, Martin was paying attention and saw Ben waving at him from the back of the convoy. The Scout’s exhaust note picked up, and pretty soon they were increasing speed. Ben had forgotten about his knee in the fray but was noticing the pain now that he was sitting still. Once they put this place behind them, he’d be more than happy to let Sandy take over behind the wheel for a while.

  As they drove by, Ben glanced over at the gas station where they fueled up last night.

  “That sure was a crazy storm last night.” Sandy was looking over at the gas station as well.

  “It was nice to get the rain, but we could have done without the lightning.” Ben straightened up in the seat a little and focused on the road ahead. He cast a glance in the rearview mirror to see how Emma was doing after their hasty departure. But she was stretched out longways across the bench seat with her sleeping bag pulled over her. Sam had given up on staking out a spot on the bench seat and climbed up onto her bed atop the gear in the back. Bajer was curled up on the floor as close as she could get to Emma’s head.

  “Em, you all right, sweetie?” Ben asked.

  “I’m fine.” Emma’s response was muffled and short. Ben decided not to press her further, even though he knew she wasn’t fine. But until they got back out on the highway or farther down the road, she was in the safest possible position. Ben had meant to work out different arrangements for travel with Brad, but those plans had fallen by the wayside in this morning’s chaos and he had forgotten all about it.

  He thought about how fast the morning had gone downhill after his second cup of coffee. Maybe sleeping in the rain last night wouldn’t have been so bad if the alternative to what happened this morning had been waking up at a peaceful campsite in the woods somewhere. Of course, it was easy to think like that after enjoying the comfort of a mattress for the night. If dealing with meth head looters was the price to pay for not waking up in the middle of the night because there was a rock poking him in the back, it wasn’t worth it.

  The exit ramp leading back out onto the highway wasn’t far ahead now, and Martin had already started to steer the Scout into the far-right lane. In single file, the other vehicles veered to the right and followed the Scout’s lead through the exit ramp. Ben checked the rearview mirror one more time before his view behind them was blocked. What he saw sent cold chills down his spine.

  There were at least two vehicles on the road behind them. They hadn’t been there a few seconds ago, like they had appeared out of thin air. Ben stepped on the gas and the big Chevy lurched forward.

  “What is it?” Sandy could tell something was wrong.

  “We’ve got company.” Ben was sure the cars following them had something to do with the two looters who ran away. He stuck his arm out the window and signaled for Joel to pick up his radio.

  “Come in, Joel. Over.” Ben waited impatiently for Joel to answer, while Sandy repositioned herself in the seat to get a better view of the cars pursuing them.

  “Do you think they’re after us? They’re still way back there,” Sandy asked.

  “Go ahead. Over,” Joel finally answered before Ben had a chance to respond to Sandy.

  “We’ve got a couple vehicles after us. Over.” Ben looked at Sandy and then back at Emma before casting a quick glance out the rear window. They were too far around the exit to see the other vehicles now. Ben answered Sandy’s question. “Yeah, they’re definitely after us, and I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with the two that ran away.”

  “What do we do? Can we outrun them? Over.” Joel’s voice crackled over the radio. Ben wasn’t sure how best to handle this, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized trying to outrun them wasn’t the answer.

  “I don’t think outrunning them is the answer. Over.” They would only be able to go as fast as Rita could drive, and Ben knew her limits. A high-speed chase was more than the old couple could handle. Best-case scenario, they’d end up with a broken-down vehicle, but a bad accident would be a more likely outcome of trying to outrun the looters.

  “When you get to the top of the ramp, try to signal the others and get them to stop on the overpass. Grab your weapons and plenty of ammo and be ready. Over.”

  “Copy that. Over.” Ben could hear the worry in Joel’s voice, and it was justified. They had no choice but to stand their ground and fight once again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ben was at least grateful for the advantage afforded by the higher position of the overpass. They would have a commanding view of the highway below, and their pursuers would have to drive right underneath them to give chase. The downside was the looters would be on top of them in seconds if they managed to make it to the exit ramp and up to the overpass. Ben didn’t particularly care for any of their options, but taking a position and holding their ground was the lesser of two evils.

  Ben heard Joel’s horn and saw the lights on the Jeep flicker as he tried to get the others’ attention. By the time Ben came off the exit ramp, the Scout, Toyota, and Jeep were all stopped in a row along the concrete divider separating the two lanes of the overpass. He pulled in behind them and stopped abruptly, throwing the Blazer into park but leaving it running. He hoped it was a safety measure that wouldn’t be needed.

  “Grab your rifle and follow me.” Ben looked at Sandy before turning toward the back of the truck. “Em, I need you to stay here with the dogs, and no matter what happens, stay down.” Emma had come out from under the sleeping bag when Ben first realized they were being chased, but now she was back underneath, with only her head sticking out.

  “You hear me? Stay down. There’s going to be a lot of shooting, but it’s going to be okay. I promise.” Ben rubbed the top of her head briefly, but there was no time for further assurances. He grabbed his rifle and slid out of the truck, only reaching back in to grab the three extra box-style magazines for his M24. Joel and the others were out
side their vehicles with weapons in hand. Ben yanked a full ammunition can from the bed of the Toyota on his way by the truck.

  “You can sit this one out if you want,” Ben said as he passed by Rita’s open window. The couple hadn’t made it out of their vehicle yet, and he didn’t see any real advantage to them joining the fight. Besides, he’d rather have them ready to move out if things went south.

  Ben was glad to see Martin carrying several extra magazines. So were the kids, including Brad, who was now carrying an AR-15 as well.

  “I figured we should all be shooting the same thing, for the ammo.” Joel must have seen him eyeing the gun Brad was holding.

  Ben nodded. “Good, I want you guys to spread out along the concrete rail and get ready, but don’t shoot until I say.” Ben pointed to several spots along the edge of the overpass that looked down on the road below. “Brad, can you do me a favor and go keep your sister company?”

  “Aw, Dad. Do I have to?” Brad whined.

  “Yes, no time to argue. Do it now, please.” Ben was stern but did his best to speak calmly even though he knew time was precious right now.

  “Fine.” Brad turned and stomped toward the Blazer. Ben hated seeing him behave that way, but there was no time to worry about it now. He joined the others along the concrete barricade, finding a spot near the middle between Joel and Sandy. He felt like he could see the whole town from up here. The gas station they’d stopped at yesterday was on the left, and farther down on the right was the motel, still on fire and putting a respectable plume of gray smoke into the otherwise clear blue sky. The smoke would be visible for miles around, and that made him uneasy.

  “I see them! Three cars!” Martin shouted from the far end of the line as he watched through the binoculars. Ben propped his rifle up on the concrete barrier and found the first car with his scope. It was an older Ford wagon. Not far behind was a Chevy sedan of some kind, followed at a distance by what looked like a ’70s-era mustang hotrod with some body armor crudely welded on. Ben immediately thought back to the white truck that had given them a run for their money through Indiana on their way east. The encounter was the likely cause of the Blazer’s breakdown and another reason Ben wanted to avoid a high-speed chase.

  The cars were still a good half mile or more from the exit as he watched them weave a path along the wreck-littered road. He had definitely been spotted by the looters, and based on the way they were driving, there was no question now in his mind that they were being pursued.

  “When do we shoot?” Martin anxiously worked the charging handle on his AR-15.

  “Not yet.” Ben tried to anticipate the erratic movements of the approaching cars but found it hard to put his crosshairs on target. Not only were the cars being driven poorly because the occupants were tweaked out on God knew what kind of drugs, but they were also trying to navigate through the maze of obstacles on the road. Ben was hoping to eliminate at least one of the cars, if not two, before they reached the exit, but he wondered if that was going to be possible.

  He would have to wait until they came a little closer. Suddenly, the pale blue Chevy, second in line, cut it too close to one of the wrecks and smashed through it with the front corner. To Ben’s disappointment, it only slowed the car temporarily, and with one of its headlights now dangling by a wire, it gradually picked up speed again.

  Ben focused on the lead car in line. Finding the hood first, he worked his way back to the driver, who was wearing a white T-shirt like one of the three assailants who visited the motel this morning. Ben exhaled slowly. There would be no more warning shots today.

  Boom!

  He worked the custom bolt on his rifle without a second thought while remaining zeroed in on the car as best as he could. The Ford swerved almost simultaneously, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to the shot or something in the road. He had his answer soon, though, and the rough hole in the glass to the left of the driver told him all he needed to know. He prepared to fire again.

  Crack…crack…crack! Ben turned to his left to see Joel squeeze off the last of three rounds. Then Martin followed. As did both Allie and Sandy. The others had taken his shot as an indicator to open fire; he should have been more specific with them. Joel was the only one with an optic, and at this distance, he was probably the only one with a decent chance of hitting his intended target. Ben thought about trying to get them to stop, but he wasn’t sure he could. Instead, he decided to join them in sending a barrage of lead toward their pursuers. Let them fight. This is their battle, too.

  Ben heard the first magazine hit the blacktop after only a short while of shooting; it was Martin. No surprise, really. But then Sandy dropped a magazine, a thirty-round one at that.

  “Pace yourselves,” Ben shouted above the gunfire. They had a lot of ammunition thanks to the weapons cache they discovered at the moonshiners’ compound, but being flush with ammunition didn’t mean they should burn through more than necessary on this bridge. Ben took a few more shots and emptied his second five-round magazine before pausing to assess the situation. He let the others continue shooting for a few seconds longer before calling out a ceasefire.

  The first car had long ago come to a complete stop. Resting sideways across the road and riddled with bullet holes, it almost blocked the entire lane. The driver was slumped over the wheel and without question dead. Ben dropped his empty magazine and slammed the third into place as he watched the Chevy continue the pursuit. One of the vehicle’s tires had been shot out and shredded itself off the rim, causing a shower of sparks to be thrown off in its wake as it limped along at half its original speed. The car no longer posed an immediate threat, at least not one worth spending ammunition on at the moment. They could afford to watch and let things play out from the safety of the overpass.

  As the Chevy passed the lead car and the dead driver, the sparks from the bare rim ignited a pool of gasoline that had leaked out of the bullet-ridden Ford and snaked its way across the road. The flames traveled back to the source and ignited the gas tank, instantly causing an explosion that shattered the remaining glass in both vehicles.

  The Chevy kept moving after the explosion, but not for long, rolling toward the median and stopping several feet into the overgrown weeds.

  As soon as the shooting started, the modified Mustang bringing up the rear had slowed down and held back from the others and the overpass by a few hundred yards. The car was out of range for the .223-chambered ARs, or at least far enough away not to take any real damage unless someone got a lucky shot off. After the explosion, the driver brought the vehicle broadside to the road, indicating he had changed his mind about pursuing them, but that wasn’t good enough for Ben.

  Why did the bad people outnumber the good by so many? Was it because the moral minority were scared to show their faces, or were the delinquents better survivors because they were readily willing to do the bad things to endure these times? One thing was clear. For Ben, there was no more internal turmoil. Gone was the doubt about deserved or not deserved. There were wicked people everywhere, and Ben no longer cared to try and make a distinction between the just and unjust.

  This world was what they made of it for themselves, and one less bad guy was always a good thing.

  Boom! Ben took the shot, but the bullet missed the thin slot in the metal panel, hitting just above the opening and disappearing in a cloud of rust vibrated loose by the impact. The Mustang spun its tires and launched into a couple of 360-degree burnouts in the middle of the road while Ben chambered another round. The car came to a stop with the passenger side facing the overpass, and the door popped open for a split second while the passenger flashed a rude gesture in their direction before quickly closing the door.

  Ben made a slight adjustment to the scope and exhaled slowly.

  Boom! The shot was on the money this time and sailed through the narrow opening in the steel plating that covered the window. Through the crudely cut slot, Ben saw the passenger drop from sight as the Mustang spun its tires once again, o
nly this time it was to turn around and speed off in the opposite direction. The only remorse Ben felt was for not hitting the driver with his first attempt.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ben stood up from his crouched position behind the concrete barrier as the Mustang hightailed it out of range.

  “Is everyone all right?” Ben glanced to his left and right as the others stood up from their positions. The looters hadn’t fired a single shot at them. Not that he’d noticed, anyway.

  “We’re fine.” Joel spoke for himself and Allie.

  “Do you think they’ll come back with more cars?” Martin asked.

  “I don’t think so.” But Ben wasn’t sure. After that display of firepower, the remaining looters might think twice about pursuing them any farther. Sandy silently leaned against the concrete guardrail while staring out toward Falls Creek.

  Ben approached her quietly while the kids and Martin slowly returned to the vehicles, making small talk about what had just happened.

  “Hey, you okay?” Ben placed his hand on Sandy’s shoulder and startled her. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s fine.” She resumed surveying the scene left behind by the recent battle. The blue Chevy sedan was no longer recognizable, completely engulfed in flames. Black smoke poured from the windows and rose into the now not-so-clear morning sky.

  “Do you ever get the feeling none of this is real, like we’re living in some kind of dream, a bad dream?” she added.

  “I know what you mean.” Ben stood next to her, watching the car burn. The gasoline had set some of the tall grass ablaze, and Ben imagined the whole median strip would be on fire soon. The ground was still damp from last night’s rain, but the dry brown weeds made good tinder.

  He wanted to give Sandy the time she needed to process this in her own way, and as badly as he wanted to move away from this area, he decided to give her a few minutes. He squeezed her shoulder before heading for the truck.