by C A Gleason
Sven had told him about how she was found and rescued. Who knew everything else she’d been through? She obviously wasn’t here with her parents.
He wondered what happened to them briefly but didn’t wonder long. The Molting happened. As it had to all of them.
Heike towed Patty around, showing her places around the cabin: the picnic table, where her room in the cabin was located from outside. Jonah heard her mention something about a snowman. Then they headed for the woods.
“Not too close to the wood line,” Jonah called to her.
Heike spun. “I’m showing her which direction we go hunt.”
“You can point, OK?”
“OK.”
Jonah crossed paths with Doreen. “You keeping them busy?”
Doreen rolled her eyes. “If I told them we needed to knock the cabin down and rebuild it before we left, they would. The answer to your question is yes.”
Jonah nodded approvingly, and Doreen was still smiling.
“What?”
“They look alike. Heike and Patty.”
Doreen was right. The girls did. Maybe it was why Jonah liked Patty already.
“I’m so happy. Our little girl has made a friend.”
Jonah smiled at her, even though Patty had been here for how long, a few hours? Jonah gave her a quick hug and both of them went on their way.
Compared to the kids Heike knew who were her age, and how little time she spent with them, Patty was indeed a friend. The last time she’d played with other kids was in Henrytown. That had been years ago. Mothers could be so optimistic.
Once they arrived at their destination, who knew where Patty would go from there? Still, Doreen’s happiness made Jonah love her even more.
Jonah looked around for the stranger he’d seen, the man he wanted to introduce himself to, and saw Sven staring at him. He was obviously chewing on another thought.
Jonah mouthed, “Rain check.”
Sven gave him a thumbs up. They could, and likely would, contemplate and hypothesize for hours.
The man had brown curly hair and a reddish beard. Sometimes hair color and beard color were different. A lit cigarette hung out of his mouth. Even though Jonah quit a few years ago, the initial scent of a smoke always made him crave a butt.
He noticed Jonah as he was folding blankets and stacking them into the bed of a pickup truck. “You must be Doreen’s guy?”
“I am.”
“Got it.”
Jonah didn’t blame him. If he were in his shoes, he’d be wondering exactly how single Doreen was too.
“I like to know who everyone is and where they came from.”
“Understandable. Yeah, I get it. I should have walked over and introduced myself earlier.”
“Well, I only recently returned. That’s not what I meant. I meant, who were you with before you got here?”
The conversation was already going much more awkwardly than Jonah would have wanted. It had been way too long since Jonah had socialized normally. He needed practice. Training. He was only trying to be friendly, but he needed to know things.
The fact that the guy was here with them, with others Jonah trusted, meant he should trust him too. But in Jonah’s own defense, too many of his recent experiences had been spent with strangers who were dangerous. And Jonah had shot some of them.
“I was with Henry,” he said. “He saved me from them. The Draw. I heard you got taken by them too.”
“I did.”
“I was against their ways.”
“I was too.”
He nodded. A brief one acknowledging they’d experienced the same danger and lived through it. It didn’t need to be discussed any further.
He noticed Jonah watch the cigarette as he flicked its ashes. “You want one?”
“No thanks. I quit. Don’t want to get addicted again.”
“The more things go bad, the more I need a smoke.”
“Used to be the same for me. And exactly why I don’t keep them around.” Jonah extended a hand. “I’m Jonah.”
He stuck the butt between his lips. “Myers.” Myers squinted as smoke rose up in front of his face while shaking Jonah’s hand. “I want to quit, too. It’d be nice. Except I discovered a bunker full of them a few years back.”
“That’d definitely make it more difficult to quit for me too. I guess I always avoided where I knew they would be. Or suspected where they’d be. I never took them along when I found them while out searching for supplies. If I did, I’d end up smoking them.”
“Wish I was as smart. How’d you quit?”
“I just did. It was difficult for the first year or so but it gets easier. I find it best not to have them around. Or even nearby.”
“Maybe I’ll do the same. After this pack. But you know how that goes?”
“I do. Nice to meet you.”
“You too, Jonah.”
Jonah was reminded how moments hardly ever remained the same, everything going well and happy faces. Everyone seemed at ease, the peaks during life.
But valleys, times of struggle, despair, and worse, followed no matter how well things seemed.
Salgado crossed his path carrying a crate of supplies. “Stay motivated,” he whispered.
“What are you, my conscience? You said you’d keep an eye on things.”
“Your woman’s a general, dude! She’s got everybody doing something.” Salgado laughed. “I can multitask. We’re good. Excuse me.” Myers took a step over, and Salgado set the crate in the back of the pickup bed. “And I’m lucky too! For everyone, you’ll see.”
CHAPTER 11
“We’re good to go,” Donnelly said.
Jonah nodded, and then noticed Sven’s intensity. “What’s on your mind?”
“A concern. Concerns,” Sven said. “Everything Molters are now capable of. How they’re evolving.”
“How quickly they’re doing it in such a short period of time,” Jonah said. “Yeah.”
“Especially Molters versus Behemoths,” Donnelly said.
“Yeah, man, sh—stuff’s crazy,” Salgado said.
An unplanned break, Bernard slowed and caught his breath. Along with Henry, who set down an ammo crate.
“With the weather warming up, they’re definitely not going to be so sluggish anymore,” Salgado said.
“You call the firing line sluggish?” Jonah said.
Salgado shrugged. “They’re different during the summertime is all I’m saying.”
“True.”
“We’ve got so much firepower, nobody here has to fear Molters or Behemoths,” Jacobs said.
Jacobs was a natural rifleman. The thought occurred to Jonah as it did the day he first met him. Along with meeting Donnelly and Salgado.
Jacobs was holding his automatic rifle close to his chest at an angle. Those who were ex-military were used to working with a weapon hanging off them.
Jonah hoped he was wrong to continue to feel so uneasy, but Jacobs was correct in his assessment of the arsenal. There was a weapon of choice for everyone. Mostly automatic rifles, as much of the ammo available was for that weapon system.
The rest of the weapons to consider taking along consisted of assault rifles, pistols, semiautomatic and revolvers, shotguns, semiautomatic and pump-action, bolt-action rifles, and semiautomatic sniper rifles.
For explosives, there were grenades, pineapple and incendiary, grenade launchers, fully automatic and single shot, mines, and rocket launchers.
And then there was an SAR on a gunner’s hatch.
Except for all the ammo, canned food, MREs, and water, the bulk of everything Jonah rigorously spent time acquiring would need to be left behind. Including what remained at burial sites they didn’t have time to dig up.
For the necessities, it was deciding which was best, like choosing flashlights over lanterns—for practical reasons.
As for weapons, it was rifles over shotguns, since they did not plan on any close-quarters fighting. If they did engage Molters,
they planned on doing it from a distance.
But because of the known fact, especially for soldiers like Jonah, if something can go wrong, it will go wrong, he still packed a few shotguns along with extra weapon systems of preference.
For him, he was always prepared for a close-quarters attack because he needed to be, and although he’d used a shotgun to clear out Molter nests in the past, now he preferred a pistol.
With the muscular necks of Molters so wide, practically center mass in terms of width, especially the older ones, he’d gotten quite good at throat shots.
Jonah had spent a lot of time and energy, working up a sweat—even when it was winter—in order to make all of what was in their possession available over the years.
Overkill was best for survival, but they couldn’t take everything he’d searched out, collected, and buried. Not in a day.
As far as food was concerned, what they were definitely bringing along was the meat of any recent kills. No sense in wasting good meat. And no choice but to take along other essentials, like for hygiene. But there was a finite amount of room in the six vehicles.
There was an ulterior motive by leaving some burial sites undisturbed. It was possible the weapons would be needed for reasons Jonah couldn’t foresee today.
Weapons broke, were lost, or the people who wielded them got themselves killed. Because they possessed everything needed—and more—for the mission north, Jonah would leave some of everything behind.
For a backup plan. A mission he hoped never to implement.
“Wait until you guys see what else I got.”
Jonah crouched down in the cellar, located, and then hefted up his prized weapon. He duck-walked it out before standing and lifting it upward.
“There’s a reason Doreen refers to the cellar as the armory.”
Salgado was staring at the selection of the arsenal to be chosen from for loading. And then he took great interest in the fully automatic grenade launcher Jonah carefully set down in front of him.
“Ooh, mamacita, now we’re talking, homie. Holy sh—heck . . . Holy heck, man. That’s capable of a lot of boom.”
“Thanks,” Jonah said proudly.
“It was my weapon system, bro. Before all this BS.”
It didn’t surprise Jonah that Salgado was motivated by the weapon system. Salgado was the grenadier when hunting down the Behemoth before Jonah went to Henrytown when they’d first met.
“I know it doesn’t matter how many bullets we have against so many teeth and claws, but with this? It’s a game changer,” Salgado said. “You got grenade belts?”
“What do you think? It’s all for you,” Jonah said. “You need NVGs?”
“Nah, I got my own.”
“OK. Help me mount it on one of the UVs before we drive out?”
“Sure will. With me behind it, I’ll fricking protect everyone. Thanks, brother.”
“You got it.”
Jonah looked to the cabin. The ladies were still inside finishing up packing. Wherever Heike went, Patty followed, as if Heike were the one who was older. Jonah was sure it was nice for both of them to be around each other, both being young.
And wherever Doreen went, those young ears followed, so it was best to discuss dangerous matters when they weren’t around.
If there was anyone who would understand, it was Henry, Jonah thought. Searching for survivors was how Jonah had first gotten to know him. When Jonah helped Henry—and Doreen—to go and attempt to find the missing folks of Henrytown.
“Henry,” Jonah said, “I think we should stop at Archard’s old camp, Fort Perry.” Henry’s expression changed. “You’ve been there?”
“No. I heard of it. Heard what was done there.”
“It wasn’t just the Draw going on,” Jonah assured. “I saw children. Families. Maybe not blood, but together and looking after one another.”
“You believe they’re still there?”
“I don’t know. But I want to. I need to. No matter what we went through, it’s the right thing to do. I’m tired of looking the other way.”
“Can’t we contact them? They surely have radios.”
“I was a prisoner so I could only guess the frequency. Frequencies.”
The others listened and Jonah was sure they would throw in an idea if it came to them.
Jonah thought back to how much time he’d spent listening to radios needing winding to function. Hoping for contact from strangers. He didn’t know how dangerous it was to think that way. Not everyone turned out to be like the good folks from Henrytown.
“We must stop there before pressing on,” Jonah said. “I already have too many regrets.”
Henry gave a knowing nod. “To limit regrets is often the best choice. But is it wise now?”
“At least we’ll know we aren’t abandoning people who might need our help.”
Henry thought it over. “We will have plenty of weapons.”
“For sure,” Salgado said.
“Enough to handle anything coming our way,” Henry said. “And we’ll be driving.”
Henry seemed to be thinking out loud. Jonah respected that he wasn’t committing to anything quickly, not without mentally chewing it over first. As he did before giving Jonah permission to propose to his daughter. Henry was acting like a father to all of them.
“We’ll have multiple weapon systems at hand. Including a fully automatic grenade launcher. And an S-A-R within my reach,” Jonah said. “It means going where we please. But before we all go there, if at all, I’d like to go ahead. If there’s trouble, I’ll warn everyone off by radio.”
“No chance my daughter is about to allow it.”
“My idea, my risk.”
“Although true, all this isn’t entirely your burden. Not anymore. Time to share the burden. Time to delegate.” Jonah was about to object further, when Henry said, “If everyone voted, who do you think they would say is the leader?”
Jonah laughed. He couldn’t help it, remembering he’d asked Henry the same question once, at Henrytown.
“Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was decided. Jonah would lead them. Which indeed meant delegating.
Salgado raised his eyebrows twice, getting Jonah’s attention, and nodding toward Myers. “Myers, you know Fort Perry, right?”
Myers was taking a breather. “Yeah.”
“There you go.”
Jonah nodded. “You good with driving ahead before we arrive?”
“Of course,” Myers said.
“You see anything looking wrong, you grab your mic and let us know.”
“OK.”
Giving Myers a mission was a way to give him ownership of the mission north, to make him feel like he belonged, and Salgado had spied the opportunity before Jonah.
Being the leader now, Jonah appreciated it.
CHAPTER 12
Salgado and Jonah secured the fully automatic grenade launcher to the gunner’s hatch of the UV—with some muscle from Nico.
Jonah fed the machete and sheath through his belt and secured it on his hip. The machete was another of his replacements. A machete would be the perfect weapon in case he ran out of bullets in the near future.
With Donnelly, Jacobs, and Salgado, Jonah could take advantage of years of military training and experience. Fall into an attack formation as they did when hunting down the Behemoth together near Henrytown. If necessary.
Then there were the others, too. Nico, Philip, and Myers, who he was unfamiliar with in terms of their skills, because he hadn’t fought with them side by side.
Except for Nico and Philip. Briefly at the firing line before he knew who was who. Or not at all, like Myers.
Still, his experience told him that with all their combined experience, this team was ideal for the mission north and perhaps the best in the world. Then there was Sven and Bernard.
Sven was a doctor, and Bernard was a cook, but both men were skilled drivers. Jonah remembered just how well from Henry
town, while hunting down Behemoths. And that was before there was snow on the ground.
The snow had melted, so think how they could handle the road now?
Aside from their reliable driving skills, they were also reliable mechanics. And they’d grown up in this country.
Jonah approached Bernard and Sven and leaned in like he was about to tell them a secret. “You two be ready to drive.”
Both men gave a close-lipped smile. Bashful, as if their driving skills were classified.
“Always,” Sven said.
After doing some last-minute checks, Salgado slid off the top of the UV. “Definitely bringing siphoning necessities. A vehicle might not go no more for who the heck knows why. Know what I’m saying?”
Jonah cocked his head. “Secrets.”
“What’s your problem? I wasn’t always one of the good guys.”
Heike jumped off the porch, her boots splatting in the mud, followed by Patty who rolled her eyes.
Doreen closed the door to the cabin behind her. She safely hefted the rocket launcher, the last of what they were taking along with them.
It had been stored behind the door next to the coat rack for so long it’d become scenery, so she’d placed it there again in the last few hours.
Doreen was emotional as she held the destructive one-shot, fire-and-forget weapon and turned toward the cabin, staring at it for what was probably the last time.
Jonah felt the same way, remembering everything they’d been through . . .
Destroying Behemoth cocoons.
The Molters he killed nearby.
The man who’d nearly kicked down the door before Doreen shot him.
The rampaging Behemoth almost crashing into the cabin. Before Jonah shot it to death with his rifle.
Except many of their memories were also happy ones.
Which direction hadn’t he gone out for a hunt? And how many times with Heike going along?
The picnic table and what it meant.
The wood he’d chopped they would never burn.
