“This looks promising,” Tank said, slowing to a stop.
“I’ll check the gate,” Connor said, getting out.
“Hopefully we can see the Reclaimer’s hideout from here,” James said.
“Yeah, otherwise we may have to just go in guns blazin’,” Tank said.
“It may come to that,” James said. “Let’s call that our plan C.”
“What about plan B?” Chloe asked.
“Find another hill farther east and hope it doesn’t land us right on top of them,” James said.
“What if none of the plans work?” Chloe asked.
“Then…” James started to say but finished the thought in his head. We turn ourselves in and hope for the best. “We come up with another plan.”
“We have a whole alphabet full of plans to run through,” Tank said.
Connor swung the old metal gate open and motioned them forward. Tank drove through and Connor closed the gate and then hopped back in.
“It was dummy-locked,” Connor said, rolling down his window and resting his AR on the mirror.
“Smart,” Tank said, as he started up the road.
“Dummy-locked?” Chloe asked. “You mean it was made to look like it was locked when it really wasn’t?”
“Exactly,” James said, rolling down his window.
“Be ready,” Connor said. “It looked like fresh vehicle tracks leading up here.”
“What kind of vehicle?” Tank asked. “How much did it weigh? How many in the pack?”
“What?” Chloe asked.
“He’s a hunter,” Tank said. “He knows how to track.”
“Possibly three different vehicles,” Connor said, “one with some aggressive tread.”
Chloe looked at him skeptically.
“You can tell basic stuff like that,” James said. “Common sense.”
“I never learned to track vehicles,” Chloe said with a chuckle.
“It’s an acquired skill,” James said, smiling.
The conversation died as they rounded a bend in the road and began the final ascent to the top of the hill. When they crested it, Tank brought the Hummer to a stop.
“Damn!” Tank said.
The whole top of the hill had been flattened and a spot the size of a football field had been cleared, with a seven-foot-tall berm around the clearing. The exposed dirt and rock were red. More than likely, it was the same gravel used on the road. Set up on the east side of the gravel pit were three large, white, pavilion-style tents. On the west, just south of where they sat, was a line of three black vehicles with tinted windows—two SUVs and a vehicle that looked like a Hummer crossed with an armored truck. On the north end of the clearing was a crashed Black Hawk helicopter.
“What the hell?” James said. “What is this?”
“Government,” Tank said. “Has to be.”
“Military, judging from the chopper,” Connor said.
“But why are there no insignias on the vehicles?” James asked, pointing at the SUV.
“Must be black ops or something covert,” Connor said.
“Well, hot damn!” Tank exclaimed. “This might be our lucky day. They’re bound to have some good gear! Like that beefy thing over there,” he said and pointed to the vehicle at the end.
“Let’s go, then,” James said.
Tank pulled over to the last vehicle in the line, passing all three pavilions. As they passed, the walls blew in the wind, giving James a brief look inside the last pavilion. Everything was strewn about the tent and he didn’t see a single person. Something bad had happened here. Tank stopped the Hummer.
“I’m going to go check that thing out!” Tank said as he got out, followed by James and Connor.
“Just stay close to the Hummer in case we need to get out fast,” James said, walking over to join his brother, who was facing the closest pavilion.
“No shit,” Tank responded, walking over to the vehicle. “We’ll be able to see someone comin’ from a long way off.”
“I’ll just stay in here,” Chloe said from inside the Hummer.
“Good girl,” Tank said. “Oh man, this thing is badass!”
“I’m just going to ignore that,” Chloe said.
“Ready?” James asked his brother.
Connor nodded and they moved toward the pavilion. James arrived first and parted the fabric of the entrance to look inside. There were computer terminals, random technological devices, and tables with paperwork scattered on them. This would be the work station. Most of the tables had been tipped onto their sides and everything was thrown about the room. Either people had left in a hurry or a tornado had come through here. Or something worse.
“This is just like in all the movies,” James said.
“I hate to agree with a comment like that,” Connor said, “but I think you’re right.”
“Tank, come check this out,” James called out.
“One second,” Tank called from the far side of the Hummer, twenty yards away.
“What do you think they were doing here?” James asked.
“Something to do with the outbreak, that’s for sure,” Connor said. “No way this is a coincidence.”
“What’d you guys…?” Tank asked, walking into the pavilion. “No way! This is just like—”
“In all the movies,” Connor finished for him.
“We know,” James said.
“This isn’t good,” Tank said.
“Why?” James asked.
“In most of those movies, it meant the government was somehow involved when they found something like this.”
“You don’t think…” Connor said.
“Yeah, I’m considerin’ it,” Tank said. “There might be a whole lot more to this than we’ve even begun to realize.”
“I wish we had time to see what information we could find,” James said.
“Maybe after we rescue all your homies, we can come back,” Tank said.
“How’s that armored-vehicle thing out there?” Connor asked.
“Locked,” Tank said. “It’s called a Gurkha LAPV, at least that’s what it had on the back door. It looks like an armored Hummer, and I want it!”
“Okay,” James said, planning, “Tank, look around here for the keys and stay close to the Hummer, just in case. Connor, go check whether you can see the Reclaimer’s hideout from the berm. I’ll go check the other two pavilions.”
“Roger,” Connor said, leaving the pavilion.
“Got it, Jamesy Boy,” Tank said, going over to the closest table with paperwork and miscellaneous items scattered around.
James exited and looked around. It was light enough to see now, which was good for scouting, but it meant they had maybe twenty minutes. It was time to kick it into a higher gear. He jogged over to the second pavilion, keeping a sharp eye out as he did. This place looked completely abandoned. If there were any zombies around, the noise from the Hummer would’ve drawn them out. Plus, he could see the whole border of the gravel pit easily. They should have nothing to worry about.
He kept his guard up anyway.
Arriving at the second pavilion, he eased inside the flap. The contents of this one were different than the last. Crates of supplies were scattered around the pavilion—MREs, water, empty ammunition cans, and other miscellaneous items. Most of the crates were still upright, but a few were tipped over, the contents spilled on the ground. There was still a good amount of non-perishable food supplies and water here. That would be useful. It seemed like most of the ammunition cans were empty, though. Quickly, but carefully, he searched the entire place, finding nothing that would aid them immediately.
Moving outside, he made his way to the last pavilion. The side of this one had a vertical slash the length of the wall, and James entered through it. This had been the bunk room. Twenty cots stood in rigid order around the tent, and belongings, gear, and guns were sitting neatly on the bunks. This one couldn’t hav
e been any more different than the other two. It looked untouched. No, even stranger, it was completely organized. Everything had a home and not a single item was out of place. The white walls looked like they’d been stained at some point, but they were clean now. In the back corner of the tent, a small, square room had been sectioned off with the same white fabric the rest of the tent was made of.
James approached the room. How had this pavilion been spared from being ransacked like the other two? It wasn’t as if nothing in here was useful. He caught sight of multiple untouched pairs of military gear, tactical vests, plate carriers, and even firearms on the bunks. Each one almost looked like a memorial to the people who’d used them. Nametags showed on uniforms, which were neatly folded and laying near the ends of the bunks. He paused by one on the way to the sectioned-off room. The name tag had a drop of blood on it. Romeo. Picking up the uniform with his off hand, he took a closer look. The thing smelled horrible, and now that it was unfolded, he could see that blood covered the rest of it.
“What the…” James said, tossing the rancid-smelling garment aside.
There was a sudden movement by the sectioned-off part of the tent, and James reacted before his mind fully processed it. He raised his AR at the man now standing there.
“Don’t move or I blow your face off!” the man shouted.
He had a black combat rifle aimed at James’s head. The man was outfitted in full Kryptek tactical gear, with a plate carrier and helmet with NVGs, and had the drop on him. James still had another few inches to raise his AR to get a shot, but one look into the man’s crazed, bloodshot eyes stopped him.
~~~
Connor climbed the berm surrounding the gravel pit to the south. Nearing the top, he dropped to a crouch and proceeded with caution, careful not to skyline. The rise and fall of the landscape continued on for miles—deep cuts, punctuated by hills and ridges. Small trees grew in the bottoms of the cuts where water collected, while the hillsides and ridges were covered in patches of sagebrush. The road continued down the other side of the hill they were on, dropping into a small valley and then continuing up the next hill, snaking eastward. In the bottom of the valley, a driveway split off south until it disappeared behind another hill to the southeast. He couldn’t see the Reclaimers’ hideout, but that was a good thing because he now knew where the hideout would be. If the map was correct, it was down that driveway, south of the road they were on.
It would be easy to hide in this country. They could stick to the cuts, follow those toward where the hideout was, and then crawl up the ridges to get the lay of the land beyond. They could scout the hideout without the Reclaimers ever knowing they were there. Finally, something they could work with.
Connor turned around. They would need to hurry. They had a small hike ahead of them to get to the ridge where they’d be able to see the hideout. He picked his way down the berm, stopping at the bottom. Glancing at the far pavilion, he raised his AR to his shoulder in a split second, aiming through the scope at the man who held James hostage. Connor cursed.
“Don’t even think about it!” yelled the man. “You both have till the count of three to drop your weapons before I kill him! One!”
James was almost a hundred yards away, with his own handgun being held to his head. The man was well outfitted and looked like he knew what he was doing. He never let more than just one eye show around the side of his brother’s head. To make matters worse, the man kept switching which side of James’s head he was looking around, which made it almost impossible for Connor to make the shot off hand at this distance.
“Two!”
Tank came out of the pavilion, his hands in the air. If Connor could just get prone and take the shot from a stable position, he might be able to pull it off. But if he missed by just half an inch, he would shoot his brother in the head. Just half an inch. Was he that confident in his shooting? With enough time, a good rest, and a stationary target, yes. He was confident he could make that shot, but this shot with his brother’s life on the line? Connor stood there, breathing as steadily as possible, and still the reticle of his optic wavered between the man’s head and his brother’s.
“Three!”
7
Betrayal
Post-outbreak day seven, early evening
Alexis woke up, yawning. The first thing she noticed was that it was considerably darker in the barn now, so she must’ve slept for a few hours. That was good; she needed it. She tried to stretch, but her hands were chained behind her back. Wait, it was dark out? She took in her surroundings, awareness coming fully back to her. She was chained to a pole, a prisoner of the Reclaimers. It was late in the afternoon now, maybe even early evening. Jezz would be back soon.
The thought brought fear rising to her throat like bile, but she swallowed it down. It wouldn’t be very appropriate if she spent the whole morning motivating them and lifting their spirits just to have fear disable her. A few deep breaths later, she’d calmed considerably. Most of the survivors were awake and seemed somewhat positive. The whole feel of the barn had changed in just a few hours. They were still in the same place they’d been before, but their attitudes had shifted—most of them anyway.
Voices drifted to her through the outside door, and she braced herself as it opened.
Alexis’s mind couldn’t grasp what she saw. She just stared, unable to comprehend.
Ana walked through the door, unchained, and with a handgun in her hand. Jezz walked in behind her.
“Hello, my dears,” Jezz purred, standing tall before them. Ana stood just behind her.
“Wh…What?” Alexis croaked out, finding her voice.
Jezz looked over at her, her smile spreading.
“Whatever is the matter, dear?” she asked.
Alexis stared at Ana, but Ana didn’t so much as glance down at her, as she kept her eyes straight ahead. How was she still alive, and why was she unchained? Was she still a prisoner? And why did she have a gun? The handgun Ana held was missing the magazine. It would only have one round in the chamber.
“Oh, I see you noticed my newest assistant,” Jezz said, stepping aside to give Alexis a better look at Ana. Still, Ana didn’t look at her and Alexis didn’t know what to think or feel. Her chest was a swirl of emotions and her mind a jumble of thoughts.
“Ana?” Alexis asked.
Ana didn’t respond. She didn’t even move.
“Yes, that is her name, and you are Alexis,” Jezz said. “Now that introductions are over, we can move on to business. We have been waiting patiently all day for our guests to arrive, but it seems like they have decided not to show up to our party—again. That leaves me with a conundrum. I have a whole bunch of other guests ready to start the party and yet we are waiting on only a few. I have to ask, should we start without them?”
Alexis didn’t take her eyes off Ana until that moment. What did she mean “start the party?” She was afraid she knew the answer to that.
“They’ll show up,” Alexis said, desperately. “There’s no need to rush the party. We aren’t going anywhere.”
Jezz looked down at her, contemplating. “That is true,” she said, then narrowed her eyes. “If I had to guess, I would say you were stalling to give yourselves more time.”
“She’s right,” Ana finally spoke. “They’ll show up.”
Alexis didn’t recognize her voice. The slight Russian accent was still there, but there was no hint of emotion. What’d happened to her? Maybe she wasn’t as free as she seemed. Maybe it was all a game to unhinge them even more. The gun probably wasn’t even loaded and this was all a setup. Ana couldn’t be with the Reclaimers now. She’d rather die before joining a group like that.
Or would she?
The question surprised her, coming from somewhere deep within her. Of course, Ana would. She cared about others. It had to be something else.
“Well, we will wait then,” Jezz said, turning and starting back toward the door. Ana followed her, a
voiding any eye contact.
“Oh, where is my mind?” Jezz stopped and turned around. “We are not finished yet. I still have to honor my word—one of you must be reclaimed.”
“I will,” Alexis said immediately. “Reclaim me.”
Jezz regarded her. Those blue eyes were too intelligent for someone who was clearly insane. Jezz’s eyes searched hers as Alexis held the gaze of her killer. Even though she was determined to save the rest of them, she couldn’t hold back the sudden fear as a feeling of intense regret at opening her mouth settled on her. What had she been thinking, offering herself to die? She almost took it back—almost.
“Do not rush it,” Jezz finally said. “Now, which one of you wants to live?”
The question roused the last few people who’d been staring at the ground and they glanced up, looking toward Jezz. The woman smiled, showing her teeth. On anyone else, this would be a friendly gesture, but it made Jezz seem even more menacing than usual. The look in her eyes—the unadulterated gaze of someone who cared nothing for the lives of others—told Alexis that she had a goal in mind, whatever that was, and she would kill everyone to achieve that goal. Or maybe killing them all was her goal. She kept mentioning “reclaiming,” and they were called Reclaimers. Perhaps that was just a fancy way to say murder.
“You have a choice,” Jezz continued now that she had everyone’s attention, “the same choice I gave my new acquaintance here.” She motioned toward Ana, who was standing stone-faced next to her. “Kill and you can live.”
“Oh, I’ll kill you,” Greg growled under his breath.
Jezz’s gaze snapped to him. He held her eyes for six heartbeats, then looked down.
“One of your own,” Jezz said, looking around the room at the gathered prisoners. “You will take the handgun, which has only one bullet, and shoot one of your friends in the head. A life for a life. Simple.”
Alexis narrowed her eyes at Ana. She hadn’t… had she? The guards had taken Ana and Mila from the barn. Now, Jezz was giving them the choice to kill one of their own to save their own life. Ana was here. Mila was not. Did that mean Ana had killed her? Who could enter into a bargain like that? It would be like trading one’s soul to live for a few more days. But was killing to protect any different?
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