Saga of the Scout

by Cliff Hamrick

  The barbed wire fence led to a small creek, and Ethan was relieved when he found water. He stopped himself from taking a drink, remembering Jacob drinking water from a pond on a dare and how he spent the rest of the camping trip throwing up.

  The scoutmaster had to carry him out so his mother could take him home. Ethan’s mother wasn’t going to come and save him if he got sick.

  He walked in the safety of the creek bed, though he was careful to avoid getting his feet wet. He felt safer traveling in the depression of the creek, and the tall live oak trees, which grew along the banks of the creek, hid him from sight. Birds were more plentiful here, but so were the mosquitoes. Spring was bringing out all sorts of creatures in Central Texas.

  He kept an eye on the barbed wire fence, which was his guide to the house. He hoped he could walk in the creek the whole way and sneak closer to the house to see if it was empty. He stepped across the small trickle of water and froze when he saw a raider just ahead of him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The raider, dressed only in black leather pants, caked in mud, squatted by the stream. He faced away from Ethan, which was the only reason the raider hadn’t seen him. Ethan squatted down quickly and moved quietly to hide behind the large trunk of a maple tree.

  Holding his breath, Ethan peeked around the tree to watch the raider, who scooped up handfuls of water and drank them.

  Ethan could see the raider’s bare, muscular back. His flesh was sickly pale, as if he had never been in the sun his whole life. Red and purple scars from years of abuse crisscrossed his back.

  At first, Ethan though the raider was bald, but it was only a trick of the light. When the man turned his head to look around, Ethan saw he wore a leather mask that covered his whole face. Only three holes allowed him to see or drink.

  His face was a blank, featureless mask that showed nothing of his humanity. Assuming he was human at all.

  The raider’s head turned sharply to his left and looked in the direction of the house. Ethan froze. Someone was coming.

  He pulled back and hid again. His heart pounded in his chest as he leaned his forehead against the papery white bark of the tree. He listened intently, remembering the strange language spoken by the raiders at the other creek.

  Instead, Ethan heard English. But not from the raider, but a woman.

  “I am ready,” the voice said.

  His curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked around the tree again. He saw a slightly overweight woman about his mother’s age with black hair, hanging long and wild around her face. She wore a pink bathrobe, which stood out against the shaded greens and browns of the creek.

  She didn’t fear the raider at all. Rather, she smiled as she approached him with her arms open wide. Fresh blood stained her hands. She walked confidently towards the raider, and the movement caused her bathrobe to open slightly. Ethan swallowed when he saw she was naked underneath.

  “I have purged my weakness,” she said to the raider as she walked in the water towards him.

  The raider stood up and straddled the small creek as she approached. He reached to his waist and pulled out a long, bone-bladed knife. Ethan held his breath to prevent from screaming out a warning to the woman. Was she stupid or crazy?

  The woman walked within arms’ distance of the raider, who towered over her. He looked down at her, his hand deftly twirling the knife as if he were trying to figure out what he was going to do with it. She smiled up at him.

  “The masters have called. And I have answered. I have purged my weakness. I am strong and ready to join them.”

  She put her bloody hands on his shoulders and looked over his chest as he stared down at her. For a moment, they were held together in time, uncertain of what was next.

  The raider grabbed the woman by the throat and pushed her to the ground. She gasped.

  Ethan closed his eyes as he remembered the sight of Ginger being stabbed to death. But the woman’s moan made him open his eyes again.

  The raider was on top of the woman, his muddy pants pulled down to his knees. He thrust his hips between her legs over and over again. Her knees rubbed against his waist with each hard thrust.

  Ethan’s eyes opened wide when he realized what was happening. The woman wrapped her arms around the raider’s shoulders and clutched at his scarred back as she cried out in painful pleasure.

  Ethan hid around the tree again, ashamed of the erection he had from listening to the woman moan and beg for more. It was just as lewd as any porn his friends had shown him on the Internet. Ethan didn’t like porn because he thought it was abusive to women. But the eagerness in the woman’s voice caused him to question that.

  He glanced around the tree again and saw that the woman was naked, on her hands and knees. The raider held her wide waist and thrust into her from behind, snarling like an animal. She pushed her hips with each thrust to meet him. They were facing away from him, so he felt safe that if he didn’t make a noise, they wouldn’t see him.

  Carefully, he shifted his body to sit against the tree trunk and wait. The sounds of their grunts and groans mingled with the chirping of cardinals and a squirrel barking at their presence. His mind drifted back to the visitor center and his sister. An image of her with bloody hands and a sports bra made him wonder if she was in a creek somewhere, too. He pushed the idea away.

  He rested his head back on the tree trunk, and without intending to, slipped into a light sleep.

  Ethan woke up with a start as the realization that he could no longer hear them invaded his rest. For a moment, he did not know where he was, but the overwhelming fear of being discovered stopped him from moving too much. The sun was still up, though he did not know how much time had passed.

  He sat against the tree, his back and head pressing against the papery bark, and listened. The cardinals were still chirping, but the squirrel was quiet. The soft rustle of the wind through the leaves reminded him of when his mother would shush him to be quiet after waking from a nightmare.

  Ethan dared to look around the trunk of the tree, but he did not see the raider or the woman. He looked around the creek but saw no sign of them. He did not hear them leave and had no idea of where they might have gone. He did not know if moving was safe, but he knew he could not stay.

  He slowly rose up, looking around in case one of them were waiting for him. Perhaps they knew he was there all along and they were playing with him? With no way to know, he walked along the creek, making sure that he only stepped on rocks or tree roots to avoid making any noise. When he reached the place where they had been, the woman’s pink bathrobe lay discarded in the mud.

  Ethan continued along the creek bed, keeping an eye on the barbed wire fence, his only guide. He was much more vigilant now. He came upon a well-worn path that led from the creek towards the house. He bent down and crept up the path until he could see the house.

  It was a two-story farmhouse, which was recently built, but in a style reminiscent of a hundred years ago. It was bluish-gray, with many windows and a long porch along the back of the house. The back door stood wide open.

  Looking around, Ethan could see a swing set and a tennis court. Parked in front of the house, on a cement driveway, was a large, expensive pickup truck.

  He paused long enough to watch the house but did not see any movement or hear any sounds coming from within. There were no trees or anywhere to hide between the path and the back door. He crept up to the house, ready to run.

  Reaching the door, he peeked inside, holding his crooked stick with both hands. From where he stood, he could see a sitting room, with plush leather furniture and a large TV mounted to the wall. Off to the side was a large kitchen, with brushed steel appliances. The lights were on.

  The sight of the refrigerator and the possibility of food and water gave Ethan the courage to enter. He stepped inside and looked around each corner. The house was silent.

  He walked cautiously along the clay tile floor into a short hallway which ended with the front door, c
losed, and locked. Stairs led to the second story, and another open door led to a small study, which was empty except for a dark wood desk and expensive leather furniture.

  Ethan paused at the bottom of the stairs to listen but heard nothing. A grumble of his stomach reminded him of the kitchen. Keeping his eye on the back door and the stairway, Ethan went back to the kitchen, where he drank a glass of in one gulp.

  The cold water refreshed his dry throat. Then he searched for food and found a box of cookies in the pantry. He ate them two at a time, and the rush of sugar into his body helped clear his mind a bit and reinvigorated his muscles.

  He looked at his bent stick, which helped him walk up and down the hills, and knew it was a poor weapon. The butcher knife was missing from the block of knives on the counter, so he took the next longest and sharpest knife. He kept it nearby while he searched the refrigerator, finding sodas and sandwich ingredients.

  He sat on a couch in the sitting room while he ate and drank, keeping his back to the corner so no one could sneak up on him. He felt like an intruder, and part of him was afraid that angry homeowners would return at any moment and call the police on him for trespassing. But his sore feet and aching legs were grateful to be seated in a chair.

  He found a pile of remote controls, and after fumbling with a few of them, was able to turn on the TV. The channels were a hodgepodge of strangely dysfunctional, which was disturbing, or perfectly normal, which was more disturbing.

  One channel played a re-run of a reality show about a country veterinarian, the next was blank and off the air, then next was two good-looking blonde women selling cheap jewelry from China.

  Ethan realized that the channels that were off the air were the twenty-four-hour news channels, including Fox News, which he was watching just a few hours ago. He wondered what happened since then that forced them off the air.

  Eventually, he found a local news channel that did little to calm his nerves.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The channel switched to a news station in San Antonio. The camera showed a Hispanic woman in her mid-thirties wearing a dark blue blouse with a ripped collar. Her black curly hair was pulled back into a convenient bun. She wore no makeup, and the one eye Ethan could see was red and puffy from crying. The other eye was purple and swollen shut.

  She read from a few sheets of paper, which she held in her hands. She barely looked into the camera.

  “…Houston and Lackland Air Force Base. But we did not get an answer. I mean, no one answered when we called, the phone just kept ringing. We don’t know what is going on over there. We don’t really know what is going on anywhere.”

  Ethan set the remote down and leaned in to listen as the woman paused to compose herself before she continued.

  “Uh…what we do know is that at around noon today, about one-third of the world went crazy. It seemed to happen at the same time. We got a lot of police reports about violence all over the city, fires starting, traffic accidents. They seemed to come in at the same time. We heard from a federal official with Homeland Security that it wasn’t just in the San Antonio area. It was happening everywhere.” She looked into the camera. “This is global.”

  Ethan felt his heart sink. He hoped that if he could get away from the wildlife ranch and that pit, then he would be safe. He hoped his mother was safe so far away in Austin. But now it seemed that no one was safe anywhere.

  “Official reports are few and far between. And I’m not even sure if we can trust them. One report said that the president was in a secure location and working with FEMA. Another report said that the president was killed by Secret Service when he assaulted the prime minister of Germany during a meeting. We haven’t heard anything about the location of the vice president or the speaker of the house. Either one would be the next in line to take over the presidency.

  “We haven’t gotten new information off the Internet. Most websites don’t work at all or haven’t been updated in hours. Most news stations aren’t on the air right now. Power is out around the city. We have an emergency generator so we can stay on the air. Most of the crew is dead or injured or…” the woman paused as she tried to think of the word. “That’s why I’m on the air right now.”

  She looked to someone off-camera. “Is that video ready?” Nodding, she looked back into the camera. “This is a video that was released by the San Antonio Police Department a couple of hours ago.”

  The video switched to a wooden podium with the seal of the City of San Antonio on the front. Standing at the podium was a middle-aged, Hispanic man with salt and pepper hair. He wore the dress uniform of a police official. The bottom of the screen displayed: Bill Martinez, SAPD Police Chief.

  The police chief spoke into the camera, “This message is to alert the people of San Antonio and surrounding areas that the city is experiencing widespread acts of violence and looting. At this time, we do not believe that these acts are coordinated in any way. This is not a terrorist event from what we can tell.

  “Please do not try to call 911 as those phone lines are not functioning at this time. We have crews working to repair them as we speak. Police, fire, and ambulances are stretched thin, but we will get to you as quickly as possible. We are working to restore order quickly.

  “At this time, I ask everyone to stay indoors and keep your doors and windows locked. Do not go outdoors for any reason. If you are watching this broadcast and you are not in a secure location, then get to a police or fire station and wait there. I will make another announcement at 4:30 pm.”

  The camera switched back to the woman in the newsroom. “That video was released just before 2 pm. It is now after 5 pm, and there is still no word from the police or the mayor.”

  She took a deep breath. “Don’t trust anyone. They can be dangerous. We’ve heard reports that even children were attacking people. We don’t know what is happening. I don’t know if anyone does.”

  Ethan glanced up at a family portrait, a man, two children, and a woman. The woman in the pink bathrobe.

  “The police aren’t coming. We haven’t heard a siren in hours. Sometimes, we hear gunshots. Mainly, it's just very quiet. Except for the screaming.”

  She looked away from the camera as if listening to someone’s voice which was not picked up by the microphone. “No, that’s stupid! This isn’t a fucking plague. A disease takes time. People get sick. They have symptoms. These people just started yelling nonsense and killing people for no reason and with no warning.”

  The woman and whoever was off-camera continued to argue over the cause of the events, but they didn’t go anywhere. The other person seemed convinced that a virus caused the sudden violence. The woman disagreed but didn’t have an explanation.

  Ethan listened but did not hear anything about the raiders, woolly rhinoceros, or a blue beam. If that was happening in San Antonio, then the people at the news station didn’t know about it. But it sounded like they knew even less about what was going on than he did.

  The argument died down, and the woman returned to speaking into the camera, “Esto es lo que sabemos hasta ahora…”

  The woman switched to Spanish, and Ethan listened for a little while but wasn’t able to keep up. His Spanish wasn’t very good, but what little he did understand sounded like she was repeating much of the news she had already reported. They knew nothing. They were going to keep repeating it.

  Looking back at the portrait again, Ethan wondered what happened to the woman in the pink bathrobe. This was her house. What did she mean by purging her weakness? Ethan took a deep breath and picked up the carving knife and decided to explore upstairs.

  Ethan held the knife in front of him with his right hand while he held onto the railing with his left. He stepped cautiously up the stairs. His eyes scanned the top in case there were any signs that someone was up there.

  A creak from the wooden staircase caused him to freeze and wince at the unintentional noise. He paused for a moment but did not hear any signs of life except for a mockingbird si
nging happily outside.

  He continued to the top of the stairs and saw three doors to his left and two to his right. All of them were closed. The doors on his right were closer, so he approached them. He pressed his ear against the door that looked like it might be a bedroom but only heard the mockingbird.

  He gripped the knife firmly in his hand and took a couple of deep breaths to steel himself before flinging the door open, ready to be attacked. Instead, Ethan saw something that made him puke up his sandwich.

  The bedspread used to be a bright yellow. Ethan could see that from the edges of the sheets which weren’t soaked in blood. Lying in the center of the bed was the body of a naked man. His wrists were tied to the bedposts with bras, and a pair of women’s underwear was stuffed into his mouth. He had been stabbed many times in the chest, neck, and stomach. A pair of scissors stuck out from one of his eye sockets. His genitals had been cut off.

  Ethan didn’t want to see any more, but he knew he had to search the house. He kept his gaze away from the bloody horror on the bed and looked into the master bathroom. It was strangely spotless, as if someone had just cleaned it. Bright white porcelain contrasted against the wet, bloody mess in the bedroom.

  He saw a phone charger next to the bed and grabbed it before leaving and closing the door behind him.

  He discovered that the other door was just a closet. He looked at the other three doors and hoped that they held nothing like what he just saw. His empty stomach turned at the thought. He held the knife in front of him but felt a little safer. If someone was in the house and alive, then they would have heard him by now.

  He approached one of the doors and saw that it was open a crack. A small, neatly-made twin bed with toys lying around the floor showed that it belonged to a child.

  He turned to the door across the hall and opened it slowly. It was a bathroom, also clean and spotless. He saw that the shower curtain was closed and he could hear water dripping from behind it.