Aftermath (Book 2): Aftermath

by Donovan, J. S.

  The door closed with a small click.

  Naomi stood in the cold dark, both confused and surprised by the little mysterious woman.

  After a few moments of that, Naomi joined Calvin in bed. He yawned. “You think we can trust these guys?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re the professional,” He reminded her.

  “I’ve been wrong before,” Naomi replied. “Either way, they’re what we’ve got.”

  The two of them stayed quiet until sleep took them both.

  Naomi’s internal clock awoke her before sunrise. She tapped her knuckles on her parents’ door. Wearing a white shirt and boxers, George opened the door. The hair on the right side of his head had a cowlick. His eyes were heavy-lidded and tired. He had a question on his half-sleeping face.

  “I brought home some people last night. Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “In our house?” George asked stupidly.

  Naomi pursed her lips and nodded.

  George scratched the back of his soot-colored hair. “As long they’re not troublemakers…”

  Naomi gave him a hug. “Thanks, Dad.”

  She headed to the kitchen. Richard was snoring and sprawled out on the couch with each limb comically going in different directions. Ms. Banks sat at the table, reading the New King James under the morning sunlight. Just outside, Guy rested his crossed wrists on the porch railing as he blew a ring of smoke. It captured the sun in a ring before smoothly dissipating.

  Naomi opened the cupboard and drew out some dried oats, dried berries, and deer jerky. She grabbed a lukewarm water bottle “Want one?”

  Ms. Banks glanced up from her reading. “I’m okay, but thank you.”

  Not wanting to spend any more rations than she needed, she took a bottle for herself and made quick breakfast.

  “Do you believe?” Ms. Banks asked randomly.

  “At this point, I don’t know if I have the luxury not to, with Trinity and Becca’s lives on the line.”

  “Becca?” Ms. Banks asked.

  “She was another girl under my charge. She lost her father and mother. Her uncles and…, well, everyone really,” Naomi said. “She’s only sixteen.”

  The conversation lulled.

  Naomi picked out a few cashews from the bag and nibbled on them. “What do you think about our plan? Morally, I mean..”

  Ms. Banks brought her hand to her chin and turned her unassuming face to the sun. After a silent moment, she looked back to Naomi. “There’s a way to do this peacefully.”

  Naomi chuckled hopelessly. “Okay, tell me what I’m missing.”

  A small smile formed on Ms. Banks’s face. “Creativity.”

  Dressed in his winter garb, Calvin entered the room. He grabbed some of the snacks from Naomi and filled his mouth. “Ready?”

  They woke up Richard and brought Guy back inside. Out of the three, only Richard had a firearm. It was a slick, tiny pistol made for a purse. He smuggled it past Logan’s men the day they confiscated the guns from Eagleton. George lent his Winchester Model 1866 short rifle to Guy. Its polished brass receiver was something straight out of a Western.

  “Careful. That thing is precious,” George said, not happy handing it over to a stranger.

  He only had 19 rounds for the ten-round capacity rifle, meaning they’d need to look after the bullets.

  Guy immediately walked out back, put the stock against his shoulder, and fired a round into a tree. He quickly used the repeater level to load the next bullet into the chamber. “It’ll work.”

  George nodded with wide eyes. “I know.”

  Mary brought Ms. Banks a 22. rifle. “Sorry, but it’s what we have. Juan calls it little rabbit-killer.”

  Ms. Banks graciously accepted it. “Don’t worry. I won’t be using it that often.”

  “Where’s my free gun?” Richard complained.

  Mary glanced down at his little pistol with a mocking smile.

  Richard let out an exasperated sigh.

  Equipped, they all loaded into the Rover. Without much gas, they had to make sure they took the most direct path to Route 29. The road had two lanes going one way, a grassy medium lane, and then two roads going the other way. To their flanks were lines of trees and hay fields. The sky was vast overhead. They found a small farmhouse with a barn. Inside, they discovered the bodies of an elderly couple that highly decayed and were probably the work of Logan’s men.

  They set up their ambush a quarter mile from the farm in a stretch where there were only few cars littering the road. After discussing a plan, they split up and planted down on either side of the road. Naomi, Calvin, and Ms. Bank hid on the woods on one side. Richard and Guy held the other side. Guy climbed a tree. He sat on a thick branch with his back against the trunk and the repeater rifle across his waist. Each of them had mirrors to communicate. None of them knew Morse code, so they settled for the simple method of flashing the mirror once to hold their ground, twice for intruders, three times to attack, and four times to retreat.

  Naomi, Ms. Banks, and Richard watched the north side of the road while Calvin and Guy eyed the south side. It was probably twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit. Some of the snow had melted, but for the most part, there was a blanket of white covering everything.

  With no way of telling when or if the Scrapers would come, they had no other choice but to watch and wait. The first hour moved by surprisingly quickly while the next three were a crawl. By the time it was mid-afternoon, Naomi was getting angsty. The time they were spending could’ve been used scouting the scrapyard. Instead, she was prone in the underbrush, staring down an abandoned road until lethargy blurred her sight. When it was roughly 4 p.m., the party’s morale was crushed. None of them wanted to deal with Logan’s men at dark.

  Naomi got ready to call it quits. By the tired looks she shared with Ms. Banks and Calvin, they were ready to head home too. She couldn’t see Guy and Richard across the road, but she could assume they were just as bored. Seeds of doubt sprouted in her mind as she thought of another day she’d wasted. Worse, what if Guy was still part of the Scrapers and was doing this to distract them? With an untrusting expression, Naomi eyed the large tree where he hid. He’d been in there a long time, and not once had he signaled them. Nevertheless, Naomi hadn’t signaled him either.

  Calvin glanced back at Naomi, a disappointed expression on his face. Naomi drew in her breath, guessing it was time to pull out.

  In the corner of her eyes, she saw the glint of the mirror.

  Naomi turned and saw another glint.

  She turned the way Guy was watching and saw two silhouetted cyclists cruising down the road. A supply cart had a rope tied around the vertical bar beneath the seat. Naomi called it a chariot despite no person being in the cart. She tapped Ms. Banks’ shoulders. The woman with the grey mop of hair turned that way and grabbed her rifle.

  The two of them snaked their way closer to the roadside and rested their rifles against a toppled tree.

  As the chariot drew closer, the cyclists’ laughter could be heard. They were both rough-looking men with pistols on their belts and machetes on their backs. They wore beanies and had rough beards.

  “... The next thing Ronny knew, the woman was stark naked and chasing him with a sandal!”

  The other one chuckled.

  “Let me remind you, it was like twenty degrees outside.”

  The other one shook his head. “Women, man. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Despite seeing her breath mist in front of her face, Naomi started sweating.

  The chariot was seventy feet away.

  Naomi flashed the mirror once.

  The glint in Guy’s tree mimicked to acknowledge her command.

  The chariot was sixty feet away now.

  Naomi felt her heart throbbing against her pressed ribcage.

  Fifty feet.

  She glanced over to Calvin. Belly down in a ditch, he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before putting it back
on his pistol. Lips slightly parted, he looked back at Naomi. She turned to the other side, seeing Richard move closer to the road. Stay still, you idiot, she thought angrily

  Forty feet.

  Richard moved closer.

  Naomi flashed the mirror once.

  He didn’t hold.

  Thirty feet.

  She could see both of the cyclists in clear view. One had a cleft lip. The other one had a thin red beard and a mouthful of crooked teeth.

  Twenty feet.

  The chariot passed Calvin and a squirming Richard.

  Naomi quickly flashed her mirror three times.

  Her heart raced as she waited for Guy to return the sign.

  Fifteen feet.

  Come on, Guy. Come on! Naomi got ready to launch up.

  Thirteen feet.

  Guy gave three quick flashes.

  “Now!” Naomi shouted as she burst from her hiding place and ran out in front of the men with her rifle high. Simultaneously, Ms. Banks and Richard popped mid-flank while Calvin burst out from the rear.

  The chariot drivers squeezed their handlebar brakes. The tires squeaked, and they nearly wacked their crotch on the handlebar pole as their bottoms slipped from the seat. At the sudden stop, the tarp-covered supplies in the back jostled and a few cans of fruit cocktail bounced out.

  The men desperately reached for their weapons.

  “Ah ah ah!” Naomi warned them, switching the sights of her automatic rifle between the targets.

  The two men’s eyes were wide and full of fear and surprise.

  Naomi tilted her head to the tree line where Guy was hiding. “We have snipers in the trees,” she bluffed. “Move and they will shoot.”

  The two alarmed cyclists traded looks and then glanced at the people flanking them on each side.

  Richard smiled devilishly. “I think Red peed himself.”

  The man with the red beard trembled with his arms up high. He balanced the bike between his wet thighs. Cleft spoke carefully. “Take the supplies. They’re yours now.”

  “We don’t want the supplies,” Calvin said.

  Naomi nodded at Ms. Banks.

  She opened her backpack and pulled out the zip ties and blindfolds, just how they had planned it on their drive over.

  Red moped and whimpered.

  Richard relieved the cyclists of their pistols and machetes while Ms. Banks stepped up to bind them.

  “Please,” Red begged. “We’ll do anything.”

  Cleft didn’t resist. “Shut up, man.”

  Soon, they were bound and blindfolded and stepped off the bikes.

  Cleft tried to shake the bandana from his eyes. “Are these necessary?”

  No one replied.

  Naomi and Calvin led the captives back to the farmhouse a quarter mile away, the sample place where they found the dead elderly couple. Ms. Banks and Richard mounted the chariot’s bikes and raced it ahead of them. Guy climbed down the tree and followed behind the rest of them.

  Calvin opened the door for Naomi. She ushered the prisoners inside. The place smelled like death.

  Red cried. “Please… don’t hurt me.”

  “Shut it,” Cleft barked.

  Naomi guided them down the empty basement illuminated by one of George's lanterns. Guy followed her down and pushed the men to the floor.

  Unable to catch themselves from falling, their heads bounced on the concrete. Cleft cursed at them. Using his foot, Guy rolled them over. By this time, Calvin, Richard, and Ms. Banks joined them downstairs.

  Calvin whispered in Naomi’s ear. “The chariot is in the barn.”

  Naomi nodded at him grimly and then loomed over the felled captives. Hands bound behind them, they squirmed.

  “You work for Logan?” Naomi said.

  The men kept squirming.

  Guy put his boot on Red’s crouch. “Answer.”

  “Y-yes,” Red replied.

  “Shut up, you idiot!” Cleft yelled at his friend.

  Naomi handed her rifle to Calvin. “About five days ago, Logan captured two girls. One thirteen, chestnut hair, and the other sixteen-year-old with black hair. Where are they?”

  Cleft looked her way, but blindfolded, he was off by a few feet. “Drugged out of her mind and being tossed between Logan and the rest like a hacky sack.”

  Naomi’s face turned black. “Answer me honestly.”

  Cleft smiled spitefully. “I just told you.”

  Suddenly, Naomi leapt on the man and pounded the man’s face with her knuckles. He laughed madly until his laugh became a cry as Naomi broke the skin on his cheek, nose, and lip. Then the man begged her to stop. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!! Stop!”

  Naomi’s hands throbbed and then turned numb as she kept hitting him.

  As she drew back her fist, intent on knocking out teeth, a gentle touch tapped her shoulder.

  She twisted back quickly to Calvin. Behind his fractured lens, there was horror in his wide eyes.

  Naomi turned back to the begging man, looking at his broken, bloody, barely-recognizable face. She shook out her hands and stood up.

  Ghost-faced, Richard stared at her with his mouth agape. “Dang, girl.”

  Fingers interlocked in front of her chest, Ms. Banks looked down at the bound man with pity.

  Guy gave Naomi a bandana to wipe the blood from her hands.

  She grimaced as she cleared her knuckles, realizing they were split open and swiftly bruising. She flexed her fingers, feeling numbing pain all the way to her wrists.

  Breathing heavily, Cleft rolled over to his side, red saliva dripping out of the side of his damaged mouth. “Logan will come for me, and he’ll kill you for what you’ve done.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for,” Naomi said as she tied the bandana around her fist. “Gag them and bind their ankles. I don’t want them to communicating with each other.”

  Without looking back, Naomi hiked up the steps.

  That night, they feasted on the loot around a small fire pit behind the barn.

  As Guy and Richard fought over a nudie magazine they found below the supplies, Naomi watched the fire dance with a blank expression.

  Just as Richard got the magazine and was going to read it, Ms. Banks snatched it out of his hand and tossed it into the fire.

  “No. No!” Richard reached to save it, but he drew back his hand after the flame licked him. The pages of the magazine blackened along with his expression. “Prude,” he said angrily.

  Ms. Banks smiled to herself.

  Guy smoked.

  Calvin didn’t take his eyes off Naomi. Late into the evening, long after the fire had died and they were sleeping the house’s master bedroom, Calvin said. “What you did to that guy today… I’ve never seen that side of you before.”

  Naomi stared up at the white ceiling. “Neither have I.”

  A constant pain throbbed in her knuckles. Before today, she’d never punched anyone other than her brother.

  The next dawn, the party was out on the road.

  Cleft proved to be more honest than she thought.

  A small group of Logan’s men came biking down the street, looking for their friends.

  After three flashes of the mirror, Naomi had them captured and trapped in the basement as well.

  Ms. Banks was right. With a little creativity, no one had to die.

  Too bad it didn’t last.

  9

  Ink

  By the third day at the Route 29 farmhouse, Naomi had eight men stored in the basement and not a single shot fired. They were the smelliest, most foul-mouthed people she’d ever met. Their disgruntled faces matched up with stills from the “Busted” paper: angry scowls, crazy eyes, and clear signs of a violent upbringing. Two young men differentiated themselves from the rest with their Ivy League haircuts and innocent faces. Guy warned Naomi that they were some of the worst and had done things beyond her imagination. Being a psychologist for so long, Naomi knew to never trust someone based on their sweet words and harmless
looks. You had to study their actions to see what they revealed of their personality.

  Cleft and Red spent their time curled up in a cold sweat. They’d endured days without their choice drug and were experiencing withdrawal symptoms.

  Naomi fed the prisoners one big meal a day, usually after she questioned them. She learned Logan was just as much of a mystery to them as he was to Naomi. Some believed him to be working with the jihadists. Some said he was just a normal guy who decided to take his freedom. Others thought he was a notorious criminal who’d been waiting for the right time to reveal his drug empire. Another thought he was a new-age teacher, convincing the people that true enlightenment came from seeking carnal pleasures. Naomi was left scratching her head, but most of his people were more loyal to the freedom that he gave them than the man himself.

  There were a few loyal to Logan himself; these were the most drug-dependent individuals who had been forsaken back when America had law and order. Under Logan’s protection, they had access to all the intoxicants and carnal pleasures they desired, as long as they spread his influence.

  Naomi was careful to ask about the scrapyard. If any one of these men were to escape, they could tell Logan about her plan of attack, prompting him to double down on his defenses. Instead, Naomi pestered them for logistical information about his various scout teams and the towns he’d oppressed. Everyone gave her different numbers and plans of attacks.

  Disappointed, she sent them back to the basement. The stench made her stomach churn. With bound wrists, ankles, a cloth gag, and blindfold, it became increasingly difficult to know who had to use the restroom and when. Richard and Calvin would take care of leading them outside while Guy climbed to the roof and watched from a vantage point. However, there were times when the bathroom squad was too late. Without spare sets of clothes, she couldn’t do much for the soiled prisoners.

  Concerns about what to do with captives was raised by Calvin and Ms. Banks for two different reasons. Calvin said that it was not logically sound to stay in this barn and take care of eight full-grown men who were openly hostile. Ms. Banks cared for the prisoner’s wellbeing. She wanted to set them up with better living facilities and try to rehabilitate them. Richard was sick of the stench. The sooner he could get on with the mission, the better. Guy didn’t voice his opinion, though Naomi assumed that he cared little for the captives’ fates. A dark part of Naomi wanted to permanently remove them from the equation, but she still wanted to retain her humanity. Until she got information that could give them the edge over Logan, Naomi didn’t want to do anything drastic.