Aftermath (Book 2): Aftermath

by Donovan, J. S.

  Ink shrugged. “I don’t keep track of the women.”

  “Have any of them been killed?” Calvin asked after her wash up.

  “The women? No,” Ink said. “Most are messed up on Quaaludes twenty-four/seven. I’d be surprised if they knew what was happening at all. It’s Selena and Nancy who oversee the women.”

  “Nancy?” Ms. Banks asked.

  “She guards the door to the basement,” Ink said. “Keeps the women in line. It’s Selena who gives them to the men.”

  “So what does Logan do?” Naomi asked.

  “He leads,” Ink replied. “He stays in the scrapyard unless it’s an important issue.”

  “Who is Logan?” Naomi asked. “Like, where did he come from?”

  “His real name is Michael. He trafficked drugs and women through the mountain road for years. When the blackout happened, he saw it as a chance to come out from the shadows and take what he wants.”

  “And what’s that?” Calvin asked.

  Ink looked at him. “Everything. He said he was born for a time like this, compares himself to Alexander the Great and Hannibal.”

  Naomi scoffed. “Arrogant.”

  Ink shrugged. “So far, no one has proved him wrong.”

  Knowing more about her enemy birthed confidence inside Naomi. For some odd reason, she felt she could trust Ink. The man had no ambition. Living or dead, he felt he had nothing to lose, so he had little reason to lie. Nevertheless, only time would tell if he was speaking truthfully.

  Late into the afternoon, Naomi knew it was time to make a decision about the captives. To rehabilitate them would be impossible, but Naomi didn’t have the heart to kill them. She brought a pile of the chariot supplies into the basement and locked Ink and the other men inside. Perhaps Logan would rescue them, maybe they’d save themselves, or maybe they’d all starve. Either way, Naomi left it in fate’s hands and moved on.

  Packing up their collection of weapons, supplies, and a few bikes into the Rover, they set out to the first “safe house.”

  It was the dead of night when they approached the cabin. They snuck up on two men organizing supplies inside, gagged them, and bound them in chairs outside. Once inside, they showered off with water jugs, got dressed in new winter coats, and then set the place ablaze.

  Calvin cringed at the waste of food, water, and clothing.

  Naomi’s hope was that the sabotage would cause Logan to send out more people on patrol, thus leaving holes in the scrapyard’s defenses.

  Over the next few days, they worked quickly to mess things up. After they burned the place down, they would linger in the surrounding area, waiting for Scrapers to bring supplies. They would take what they got and hogtie them in the wilderness. They’d leave them near the origin of the fire, but far enough away that someone would have to search to find them.

  They brought the looted supplies back to George and Mary’s house and started filling the barn. The lack of food her parents had when Naomi first arrived was now an abundance. Soon, they had more than what Allen had in his basement.

  Naomi made an effort never to visit the same place twice. She wanted to keep Logan guessing and suspected he would up the patrols in places where she had been seen.

  To keep him paranoid, Naomi fired at patrols near an occupied town. She even set an abandoned building or two on fire, and then retreated. Knowing that Logan wouldn’t want to destroy his supply channels, she suspected he’d up the guards at those towns. But it would be useless for him, seeing how Naomi never returned after her brief skirmish.

  Between attacks and over campfire meals, Naomi and the rest of them shared laughs and stories of their lives before the blackout. The first one Naomi connected with was Ms. Banks. The unassuming lady with a mop of grey hair spoke calmly as she looked over the fire. She told her story without shame, remorse, or regret.

  “I grew up an abusive household,” she said as she prodded the fire with a stick. “By the time I was twelve, my father, uncle, and brother had all assaulted me.”

  Richard and Calvin sniffled as they stared at the fire. Guy revealed little behind his glassy, bug-like eyes. Naomi listened to Ms. Banks keenly.

  “By the time I was fourteen, I was into all sorts of drugs and sex. I felt unwanted. I thought that giving myself to others was the only way they’d accept me. Instead, I was abused more. So I ran away from home, stole, lie, cheated, did whatever it took to survive,” Ms. Banks said calmly as the fire danced. Her eyes were like deep pools. “One night, some girl I met at a soup kitchen invited me to a small group. I was sixteen at the time. I didn’t want to go, but I went anyway. The people there, they saw me… and accepted me despite what happened to me and what I’d done. I found out they were part of a youth group. The rest is history.”

  Ms. Banks put aside her stick and leaned back. “I’ve spent my life serving the Lord, trying to help girls like me see that they are valued, loved, cherished. It’s not been easy. Some of them backslide further into addiction, I had to blow up two marriages, and one girl took her own life. Still, I think that lives were touched through me.”

  Richard’s eyes widened. “You were married twice?”

  Ms. Banks chuckled. “It wasn’t for me.”

  “Wow,” Richard remarked, genuinely surprised.

  Ms. Banks looked to Naomi. “That’s why I want to help those girls out.”

  “But you don’t know anything about them,” Richard said, not understanding.

  Ms. Banks smiled softly. “That’s all the reason why they need to be helped, to show that someone cares.” She turned to Richard. “How about you?”

  “I think we should discuss Naomi or Calvin,” Richard deflected.

  “We know them,” Ms. Banks replied. “We don’t know you.”

  Richard leaned back on his palms and glanced up at the stars. “I’m a businessman.”

  Ms. Banks chuckles. “So that's what they call it.”

  Richard gasped. “I didn’t contest your story, don’t do it with mine.”

  Calvin glanced over at him. “Were you a con man?”

  “Is it that obvious? How did you know?” Richard asked.

  “I didn’t,” Calvin admitted. “Now I do.”

  Richard let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, so I made some questionable choices in my time. Who hasn’t? Like this mission of ours. It’s painted in all shades of grey.”

  “We’re saving my little girl.” Calvin glared.

  Richard put his hand on his chest and spoke with sarcasm. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget we’re the good guys when we’re ambushing people on the street and leaving them to die in the cold.”

  “We’re better than them,” Calvin replied, soundly slightly unconvinced. He mindlessly tossed a pebble into the fire.

  “Listen,” Richard started. “I’m not going to bore you with my story.”

  Naomi sipped from her water. “Tell us about your wife then?”

  “Oh,” Richard said, taken off guard. “About that...”

  “She was taken, right?” Naomi asked.

  Richard sucked in his lips for a moment. “It’s complicated.”

  “We have all night,” Naomi said.

  “Guy hasn’t talked. Why can’t he go?” Richard deflected.

  Everyone stared at him. Especially Guy.

  “Fine,” Richard relented. “But you’re not going like my answer.”

  “Try me,” Ms. Banks said.

  Richard puffed his cheeks with air. After a moment to gather his thoughts, he said. “You know Selena? Logan’s right hand woman.”

  Naomi nodded slowly. “What about her?”

  “Well,” Richard said with a sudden nervous chuckle. “We had a falling out a few years ago.”

  Everyone’s jaw dropped.

  “You and Selena?” Naomi asked disbelievingly.

  “How did that happen?” Ms. Banks asked.

  Richard grunted. “I knew you guys wouldn’t understand.”

  “You realize that she h
as my daughter?” Calvin replied. “That she robbed us. Pistol-whipped my wife. Tried to--”

  Naomi cut him off with a gentle touch. She glared at Richard. “Explain.”

  “I never said she was perfect,” Richard said cautiously.

  “Wait,” Guy interrupted. “You and Selena are married?”

  “Technically, we’re taking some time off,” Richard said, choosing his words carefully.

  Everyone glared.

  “Fine. She ran off with that twit Logan long before the whole blackout. I don’t think that she can see he’s a complete jerk who doesn’t care about her.”

  Ms. Banks rubbed her brow.

  Guy smirked a little and mumbled. “Says the man who can’t keep his hands off a woman for more than five minutes.”

  “You can call me unfaithful, but I’m going to save her from that man,” Richard said with raw determination. He stared at the dancing flame. “Just you watch.”

  10

  Alone

  Steel clouds drifted across the full moon.

  Blotches of snow spotted the dirt yard around the park ranger station.

  Firelight flickered within the cabin-style building. Through the rhombus-shaped windows, two men chatted. Insulated hunting jackets warmed their bulky frames. Their greasy bangs glued to their creased foreheads. High-powered pistols sagged their belts. A third man lingered on the outside balcony, puffing a fat cigar while he scanned the dense tree line. A scoped rifle leaned on the railing within his reach. A fourth man patrolled the building’s exterior.

  Naomi followed his route with her eyes. She lowered the binoculars and pointed. “That’s the one we start with,” she whispered. “Any takers?”

  Her posse crowded behind the trees with her, all keenly watching the ranger station.

  “I’ll go,” Guy said in his monotone voice.

  Calvin gave him a respectful pat on the back. “We’ll wait for your signal.”

  Guy pulled out the terrifying bowie knife he’d stolen from one of Logan’s men and scurried out of sight.

  Naomi watched him bob and weaved between trees. Out of all the members of the group, Guy was the only one that hadn’t opened up about his past. Despite the dozen raids they’d partaken in, she only knew that he had a lot of information about Logan. Apart from that, he was a stranger.

  Moving like a shadow, Guy crept out of the leafless flora and made precise, cautious steps toward the unexpected guard. As the guard was about to walk around the bend of the building, Guy wrapped his gloved hand around the guard’s mouth and put the knife up to his throat.

  Naomi turned back to Richard. He was already clenching a bundle of zip ties. Flashing a cocky smile her way, he dashed into the woods.

  The guard’s legs kicked out in all directions as Guy dragged him back into the dense tree line.

  Naomi nodded at her posse. Arming themselves, they hunched low and moved between cover until they reached the ranger station. Naomi and Ms. Banks squatted behind a disabled patrol vehicle in the parking lot.

  When the balcony guard picked up his rifle and went to the other end of the railing, Naomi and Ms. Banks advanced closer to the building. Meanwhile, Calvin flanked around the side of the building.

  Huddled below the rhombus-shaped window, Naomi peeked at the two chatting men. There were two more people inside along with a mountain of supplies. Once again, Ink’s advice proved correct. This was one of Logan’s safe houses.

  Naomi dropped to her hands and knees, feeling the cold concrete dig into her gloved palms. No longer wielding Allen’s assault rifle, she easily rounded the corner of the building, seeing the side entrance. She stayed in cover and watched the nearby tree line. A baseball flung out from the darkness and slammed against a nearby window. Staying low, Naomi watched the door.

  After a moment, it opened and one of the guards stepped out. His hands tightly gripped his pistol as he proceeded forward. “Who’s there?”

  Moving silently and staying at the man’s back, Naomi and Ms. Banks crawled past the guard. They reached the open threshold and slipped inside.

  The three guards inside chatted nervously. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Glass cracked.

  The three turned to a window on the opposite side of the building. A ball-shaped spider web crack fractured the glass pane.

  Good job, Calvin, Naomi thought and slipped into the room. Ms. Banks followed. The two of them took cover behind the tall stack of wooden supply crates.

  Alarmed, one of the three guards headed to the recently cracked window while the other two drew out their weapons.

  “There’s something up,” one said anxiously.

  “Shoot first, ask questions later,” the other replied.

  Puddles of sweat soaked Naomi's undershirt and forehead. Keeping control of her breathing but not her raging heart, she moved around the back of the wall. Ms. Banks followed. Two fireplaces were actively burning along with a number of candles positioned throughout the room. The flickering firelight made sticking to the shadows much easier.

  One of the guards checked his pistol magazine. “Someone get Irish.”

  He slid the magazine back into the weapon.

  Naomi and Ms. Banks exchanged looks, nodded, and both jolted upward. Half concealed, they aimed their weapon at the two men.

  “Good evening, boys,” Naomi said. “I think you two should drop your weapons.”

  One of the men cursed and raised his pistol. Before he could take aim, Naomi squeezed her trigger.

  Bam!

  The right leg of the man flung out from under him. His chin slammed to the floor and his pistol skidded across the hardwood.

  Naomi turned her barrel to the other shocked man. “He lost his knee. You’ll lose your life.”

  Carefully, the man lowered his pistol to the floor and lifted his arms above his head.

  Alerted by the gunshot, the guard that went Calvin’s way rushed back inside. He saw his friend curled up on the floor, moaning and clenching his bleeding leg.

  With a pitying expression, Ms. Banks aimed her weapon. She politely asked him to surrender.

  He bounced his large eyes between his disarmed friend and the injured one on the floor. Before he acted, the guard that stepped out at the sound of the first baseball returned inside. His arms were slightly raised. Richard and Guy both had their weapons aimed at his back. When he got three yards into the building, Richard slammed the door with his foot. Guy stomped on the back of the man’s shin, forcing the captive to kneel. Guy stood behind him, aiming the gun at him executioner style.

  Rapid footsteps sounded behind a nearby door. It burst open, revealing the stairs to the second floor along with the cigar-smoking guard. He saw Guy first and was about to shoot him before Richard aimed his weapon the man’s way.

  Apart from the sound of the crying man, tense silence clouded the large room.

  Calvin stepped out from the darkness and aimed at the back of the indecisive man who was currently aiming at Ms. Banks.

  The guard’s cigar fell from his lips.

  “How many more of you are here?” Naomi asked, keeping her pistol trained on the first man who had surrender his weapon.

  They all spoke at once.

  “None.”

  “Twenty are on their way.”

  “One more.”

  “Ten.”

  Naomi tilted her head slightly to the side. “Gather them in the middle. We’ll bind them and search the upstairs --”

  Boom!

  The front door kicked open and a hulking man wearing a riot helmet and SWAT body armor charged inside.

  He aimed his ornate semi-automatic shotgun at Naomi.

  “Kill the witch, Irish!” Spit flung from the bleeding man’s mouth as he shouted.

  Chills danced across Naomi’s flesh as she looked down the black-eyed barrel that would end her.

  The man scanned the crowd. He took a hand off the butt of his shotgun and pulled up the riot helmet
, revealing his moss-green eyes, grey stubble, and cinder block jaw.

  Calvin cursed. “Conner?”

  The man locked his sorrowful eyes with Calvin and Naomi. “I thought I’d never see you two again,” he said in his distinct Irish accent.

  Richard looked between them and the man he held the gun to. “You know each other?”

  “Something like that,” Conner said. He lowered his shotgun, gave it an inquisitive look, and then tossed it to the side.

  The guards in the room deflated. They tossed aside their weapons as well.

  Naomi tried to wrap her mind around Conner’s surprise visit. Calvin and the rest of the crowd seemed just as confused.

  “Get these guys bound,” Naomi commanded. She turned to Conner. “How many more of you are here?”

  “It’s just me,” Conner replied honestly.

  Naomi gestured for Calvin to join her in a different room while the rest of the posse took care of the guards.

  They stepped into one of the park rangers’ offices. Naomi and Calvin holstered their weapons and watched Conner pace around the dimly-lit room. The cut on his neck had nearly scabbed over, leaving behind a few inches of beaded flesh.

  He glanced around the room before sitting on the front edge of the desk.

  Calvin left the door open an inch and crossed his arm. “We thought you were dead.”

  “That’s understandable,” Conner replied.

  Naomi stepped closer to him. “What happened to you?”

  Conner looked her up and down. “I could be asking you the same thing.”

  Naomi glanced down at her dark attire. “The last time we spoke, you and Dean were headed to Logan’s.”

  “Right,” Conner grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When we saw Logan mobilizing his attack on Allen’s cabin, Dean and I waited until the scrapyard was clear and attempted to rescue the girls. We managed to get them out of their cages but we’re were swarmed on the way out. The next thing we knew, we were in cages ourselves. When Logan returned, he respected our crafty plan but couldn’t let it go unpunished.” Conner’s voice trailed off and his gaze went distant.