by Justin Bell
Rebecca cocked her head. “I think that’s something we need to investigate.”
“What do the files say?”
Rebecca peeled a stapled packet from one of the notebooks she carried and handed it over to Rhonda.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“One of the org charts I was telling you about. Check the Chief Operating Officer for Ironclad.”
Rhonda rifled through the paper, tracing some information with her finger. She halted, her eyes growing large, then she looked up at Rebecca.
“Karl Green?”
“Karl Green.”
“Same Karl Green we just had a firefight with two months ago?”
“Yep. First COO I’ve ever run across who carried around an M4, I’ll tell you that much… and I worked for the FBI.”
“So Ironclad was definitely the group who was here when we showed up.”
“Who was also working with the West Plains Militia.”
“And also has these strange ties to Consolidated.”
“Who is confirmed, in here, to be the main producer of the housing for the suitcase nukes.”
Rhonda blew out a long breath and sat back down on the bed. She sat there for a minute, letting the information soak into her.
“I don’t suppose you guys found any beer at that grocery store last night?” she asked, glancing at Angel.
He chuckled, but shook his head. “Sorry, chica.”
“This is like some episode of 24,” she said. “Where's Jack Bauer when you need him?"
“Jack Bauer's a sissy compared to us, girlfriend,” Fields joked. “Let's lock and load on these turkeys."
Rhonda stood again. “Now, take it easy, Rambo,” she said. “We need to play this careful. This isn’t exactly a highly trained special missions force here, we’re a bunch of normal people who kind of know how to shoot at other normal people. If Ironclad and Consolidated really are a joint entity, we could be getting in way over our heads.”
“We gotta do this, mom,” Max said, stepping toward her.
“No, that’s not how we play this,” Rhonda hissed. “We don’t play the gang up on the strict mom game on this one, you got me, kid?”
Max nodded sheepishly.
“When we started on this journey, it was about bringing our family together, right? That’s still our end goal. To find Lydia and bring her home.”
“Yeah, but what if Ironclad has her?” Tamar asked, shrugging. “I mean, that’s possible.”
“Sounds like it is, but if we charge in half-cocked and all end up dead, what good will any of this do for us?”
Rebecca took a step forward. “Now, I don’t think anyone was suggesting going off half-cocked. I think some nighttime reconnaissance, a little sneak peek under the cover of darkness? Something like that. Nobody is talking about a full-frontal assault or anything.”
“That’s good, because we’ve gone up against Ironclad before. We went up against them with a helicopter and still came within a whisker of being killed. Three of us were.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Fields replied coolly.
Rhonda softened, knowing what she had just said was a low blow. Orosco and Harrison especially had been close to Fields, far closer than they had been to the rest of them.
“I’m sorry, Rebecca. I know. That was a cheap shot.”
“We’re all grown-ups here,” Fields replied. “I don’t take offense easy and I don’t want to get anyone else killed. But we could bring some measure of justice to the millions of people who have died and possibly take steps in recovering your daughter. That’s a win-win if you ask me.”
Rhonda drew in a breath and sat back down on the bed again, letting it sag under her boneless weight. Her head swam in a fog of exhaustion as she tried hard to process all the different angles that were being presented. Every last shred of information.
“Mom,” Winnie said, stepping up behind Rebecca. “I think we should do this. I think we owe it to Lydia and to the country.”
Rhonda lifted her head, her eyes meeting her daughter’s, and she felt a swell of pride in the young girl’s words. An awareness of what was around here she’d rarely seen in the fifteen years leading up to this moment. Her eyes moved from Winnie to Fields and for a brief moment she saw some of Rebecca in her daughter’s face. She wasn’t sure if that made her proud or just a little jealous.
“Tonight?” she asked, looking at Rebecca.
Fields nodded. “As good a time as any.”
“Under the cover of darkness. We start off with reconnaissance only.”
Nods came all around.
“All right. Everyone needs to start off by getting some sleep, myself included. Let’s start a day time watch rotation, focus on resting up for the next five hours. Then we’ll start packing our gear and getting ready. We’ll have to bring Daisuke, too, he knows where the place is. Someone better make sure he’s on board with this plan, too.”
“I’ll take first watch,” said Phil, and turned to walk from the mattress shop, leaving Rhonda shaking her head. His volunteering for watch was going to wind up getting him too tired to function. She hoped that wouldn’t bite them all in the butt somewhere down the line.
“Everyone else, get your rest. We move out at nine o’clock tonight, I want everyone meeting by the fountain at seven-thirty to start getting stuff together.”
Nods and affirmative shouts echoed throughout the group and they dispersed, heading to their separate areas of the mall. Rebecca lingered back, watching them go, then turned to Rhonda.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she said quietly. “We all are.”
“I hope so,” Rhonda replied. “In a world like this, sometimes survival is truly the only right choice. I hope we’re not risking that.”
“What’s life without risk?”
“Long lived?”
“No guarantees.”
Rhonda nodded. Field was right, of that she was certain. She hoped Fields was also right about Consolidated Tool & Die and they weren’t all preparing for their first ever suicide mission.
Chapter 6
“This is bull,” Angel hissed. Rebecca rolled her eyes a bit, but maintained her calm.
“I know you’re not happy, but we need someone to stay here to help Greer, just in case any nasties show up.”
“C’mon, Rebecca,” he pleaded. “Get one of the others to stay. I can help out on this one.”
“Please, Angel, just do it for me,” she said. “If this goes right, we don’t need the guns there; it’ll be quick and quiet. We need to protect our home base, and that’s what we’re trusting you with, okay?”
Angel shook his head. “Have it your way. I don’t have to like it though.”
“Point taken,” she replied. “Greer, Jiro, and Kaida will be sticking around here, too.”
“How’s he doin’?” Angel asked. “Greer, I mean. Haven’t talked to him much since… you know.”
Rebecca shrugged. “He’s in rough shape. We acted quick on the arm and hammered him with antibiotics, but he’s in a lot of pain, just trying not to let on. I’m pretty sure he’s still struggling with that hunk of lead in his chest, too.”
Angel looked at the floor, then back at her. “He gave me a really hard time when I first joined with the crew, but he let me explain the situation, and he’s been real fair to me since then, even though he was a cop. He’s a good guy.”
“I agree,” Rebecca replied. “He deserves better than he’s got, that’s for sure.”
They broke away from the dark corner they were talking in and strolled across the floor of the aisle toward the collection of duffel bags and people who were preparing for the recon mission. Rhonda was crouched next to an old beat-up brown bag, neatly organizing weaponry inside along with some mag lights, and a few other scattered tools.
“Just like the Boy Scouts, always prepared, huh?”
Rhonda looked up at her. “I was raised that way.” The words tasted bitter even as she spoke them, leaving
an acrid taste on her tongue and lips. Yeah, she was raised that way. Every day another day on the sandstone, hardening, sharpening, honing. She hadn’t been a child, she’d been a tool. A tool she was still surprised her parents let go of. A tool they might very well be replacing with her daughter.
The mere thought enraged her, and she sucked in a harsh breath, closing her eyes for a moment.
“You really think we’ll need all of those guns?” Phil asked, walking up from Rhonda’s left. Winnie hovered just behind him.
“I hope not, but I’d rather have them and not need them, than need them and not have them,” Rhonda said.
“So what’s the roll out plan?” Winnie asked from behind her dad as she slid her pistol into a holster at the small of her back.
“We’ll be taking both cars,” Rebecca said. “Rhonda, Phil, and Winnie, you guys will be riding in one of them with Daisuke. I’ll be taking Max, Brad, and Tamar in mine. Angel’s hanging out here with the other two Shimizu’s and Clancy.” Everyone had gathered in a semi-circle and stood there, listening to her outline the plan. “We’re dropping the cars two blocks East. Daisuke gave us a good spot. Then we’ll move in on foot.”
Everyone within the circle nodded their understanding.
“Rhonda, Daisuke, Brad, and Winnie, you guys are the look outs, got it? There’s an alley just across the street, Daisuke gave us the location. You all stake out the road, make sure nobody sneaks up on us while we’re in there. Phil’s coming up with me, Max, and Tamar.”
“And if we see anyone around, we’re blowing the joint before you even move toward the building, right?” Rhonda asked.
Fields looked back at her. “I’d like to reserve the right to make that decision when the time comes.”
“Don’t give me that, Rebecca,” Rhonda barked. “That wasn’t what we agreed to. I don’t want to put my family at risk.”
“I won’t put your family at risk. Trust me. But this could be a lead. One of the few leads we might have, and whoever was behind these attacks needs to be brought to justice.”
“Since when did that become our job?”
“For some of us, it’s always been our job.”
Rhonda firmed her lips, trying to convince herself that there wasn’t an air of superiority to Fields’ comments. In the end she stayed silent.
“Okay? Everyone on board with this?” Rebecca asked, and nods and approvals rebounded back toward her.
"Excellent. Let’s do it.”
Angel stood across the aisle, arms crossed, looking on as the group dispersed, grabbing bags and heading out to the car and leaving him behind to watch the house. He wasn’t happy, but he’d do it. He’d just make sure he was allowed to go the next time around.
***
The dark sedan with the single headlight rounded the corner of the one-lane street, winding through empty brick buildings, and eased left toward a parking area sitting broad and empty under the pale light of the moon. Surrounded by chain link fencing, with metal lampposts at each corner, the lot would have normally fetched a healthy hourly rate for parking so close to the suburban Chicago office center, but two months after the apocalypse it was vacant as if waiting for the Frasers to arrive.
Shortly behind the sedan, Rebecca guided the blue hatchback, one of the other vehicles that had been requisitioned from the Lakeview Shopping Mall parking lot, parking it next to the sedan. Doors creaked open and shrouded figures stepped from the vehicles, walking low and close to the automobiles. Without even speaking, Rebecca went around to the trunk and opened it, pulling the duffel bag part of the way out. She unzipped it and withdrew an AR-15 which she slung over her shoulder. She offered out a pistol to Tamar, and he nodded, sliding it from her grasp and tucking it into his belt, while Max already had his trusty revolver slipped into his contoured holster. Phil grabbed a Mac-10, a sub-machine gun they had liberated from one of the many Ironclad casualties from the conflict at the mall. He liked using the sub-machine guns, because they didn’t require much accuracy; it was more of a spray and pray situation and he didn’t feel so bad about not hitting a specific target as long as their heads went down.
Rhonda glowered at them as they divvied up the weapons, still not happy with the possibility they might need them, and even Brad gave Tamar a sideways glance as he whispered to Max and punched him lightly in the arm. As the group milled together sorting out their weapons, she took a few steps toward them and grabbed Phil by the arm, pulling him beside her.
“Watch out for our boy, you got that?” she said.
“Yeah, of course,” Phil replied. “You okay, Rhonda?”
“Not really,” she said. “I don’t like this. Any of this. Every time we try to go up against someone like this, people end up dying. We’ve been very lucky, Phillip. Amazingly lucky, but we’re tempting fate. The next time bullets start flying I don’t want you or the kids being in front of them.”
Phil squeezed her arm. “I get that. But we’ve got to do the right thing, don’t we? This feels like the right thing.”
“Will you still think so if Max gets hurt in there?”
“He’s a tough kid—”
“If one more person tells me my twelve-year-old boy can handle himself, I’m going to scream, Phil, I swear. He’s still just a boy.”
Phil nodded. He hadn’t seen her so worked up in a very long time, and he wondered if the combination of the brutal battle eight weeks prior and lack of sleep was starting to have a combined effect. She didn’t seem to be the rock-solid anchor she had been a short time ago. Was it wrong of him to expect her to be? Lord knew he hadn’t been necessarily pulling his weight beyond volunteering for watch rotation. At first he’d resented her role as leader in the new family dynamic, but as time went on, he had taken it for granted, and he knew that. Letting her make the hard choices, letting her enforce the rules, going along as just another one of the children.
It wasn’t fair to her. He swore to himself that after their task was done, he’d start taking steps toward being more of a father and less of a friend to Max and Winnie.
“I’m sorry, Rhonda. I know. He’s had to grow up way too fast. I think we all have. I’ll take care of him, okay? I’ll get him through this, I promise you.”
“Thank you, Phil,” she whispered, and they kissed each other.
“C’mon, gross,” hissed Max from a few feet away.
Rhonda shook her head and Phil pulled away, walking over to the group, reaching out to rustle the hat on Max’s head.
“We ready?” asked Fields as Phil, Max, and Tamar gathered around her. Everyone nodded. “Daisuke, through that alley?”
Daisuke walked over next to her and looked across the street where several tall buildings stood stacked up side by side. Two of the taller buildings in the middle were separated by a narrow space, not even wide enough for a sidewalk.
He nodded and pointed toward the space. “Hai. Through that alley. There is a street on the other side, and the Consolidated corporate office is across that street. That is probably best vantage point.”
Rebecca nodded. “Good, good. Everyone, let’s load up and get over to that alley. We’ll get situated there, then see what happens next.” She lowered herself into a crouch, her AR-15 clutched in a practiced two-handed stance. Shifting foot by foot, her alert eyes darted from quiet corner to quiet corner as she moved forward, the shouldered weapon swiveling back and forth with the direction of her glare. Phil was just behind her, the MAC-10 cradled in two hands with Max and Tamar bringing up the rear, their pistols out.
Rhonda gave them a few heartbeats, then signaled to her group and moved forward, Winnie and Brad falling in on her flank with Daisuke lingering behind, trotting in a strange, bent-knee shamble.
They collected in the alley a short time later, deftly avoiding the scattered trash at their feet, beer bottles, cans, and other assorted debris still lingering to remind whoever came next of how well they had treated their surroundings.
Rebecca looked out from the narrow a
lley across the street at the two-story brick building that stood alone in the two-block stretch of suburban Chicago. Trees were scattered out in front of the building that were likely nicely manicured at one point in their young lives, but had since grown scraggly and uneven.
Even rows of windows stitched along the front side of the building, one row on each story, eight windows in total side by side, every window dark under the low light of the moon. There were no street lights lit and the entire street was cloaked in a curtain of dim indigo, with nary a stray beam of moonlight to guide the way. They couldn’t see any lights on inside the building or any vehicles in the parking lot, which was stretched along both sides of the building, and Rebecca looked back at Rhonda and her group.
“Looks clear,” she whispered. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”
Rhonda nodded her agreement.
Fields gestured toward Phil, Max, and Tamar with three fingers then curled them toward her in a silent signal for them to follow, and she moved across the street, running low and quiet, the other three close behind, almost as if they’d run this operation a hundred times. Rhonda stepped forward toward the mouth of the alley, her eyes straining to see their movements in the relative darkness, but within seconds they’d disappeared, swallowed by the darkened night.
Next to the building, Rebecca reached the set of front doors, twin glass rectangles pulled and latched together tightly. She hooked her fingers and tugged on the handles, knowing they’d stay firm, and they did. Reaching into the pouch of her tactical vest she’d worn for this shindig, she pulled out one of the mag lights and flipped it around, blunt end first, clutched in a tight fist, the AR-15 moving to her non-dominant hand. With a swift strike, she slammed the butt end of the light against the door, shattering the glass in a quiet explosion, knocking pieces of the door pane into lazy arcs on the outside sidewalk and the tile floor just inside the building. From across the street Rhonda heard the noise and knew what it was.
