The Remaining - 01

by D. J. Molles

  He took a brief moment to catch his breath from the sprint and took in his surroundings, attempting to get his bearings. He needed to find Angela and Abby and formulate a plan of action. For a brief moment, he felt out of his depth, one of those crippling and paralyzing moments where one realizes that people are relying on you, and that you cannot fail them. The responsibility of Angela and Abby, and Sam back at his house that was probably wondering what the hell was taking Lee so long, felt like a rope around his chest, tightening steadily.

  Then he took another breath, shook his head and the feeling was gone.

  He needed to find Angela and Abby, make a plan that would keep everyone safe and not require too much strenuous activity from the dehydrated and undernourished mother and daughter, and get everyone back to the house before Sam lost it and wandered off, believing Lee was dead.

  But the first thing was simply to start looking for Angela and Abby. Compartmentalize. So Lee started walking, and looking for signs of human foot-traffic through the woods.

  Unbeknownst to him, the presence of survivors had not gone unnoticed by the unidentified personnel that had cleared the house. After securing the premises and calling in the rest of the guys, Bald ACU took a good long look at the back of the house, where the overgrown grass was matted down like people had been laying in it, and the couple of empty water bottle and the two empty packets of electrolyte tablets, still lying in the grass. There were also two ice packs, still cold, and sweating in the heat. It looked to him like two people were rescued, which meant there had to be at least one rescuer.

  At least three people, unaccounted for.

  And one of them had medical supplies.

  CHAPTER 9: ...ESPECIALLY OUR SNIPERS

  After a short search, Lee found some leaves that were disturbed, revealing the forest floor beneath, and a nice half-moon shoe-print in the dirt. On the trail, he followed the spoor to a little ravine about fifty yards further into the woods where he found two frazzled blonde heads and two fearful sets of blue eyes peering at him from behind a fallen tree.

  “Thank god it’s you...” Angela stood and Lee could see she was holding a thick branch like a club. The thing was rotted out and probably would have done nothing but powder an attacker in wood particles, but Lee could appreciate her spunk. Most people just laid down and waited for fate to deal them their hands. At least this one was willing to fight it out.

  Lee took another look behind him to make sure he had no followers, then slid over the fallen log and rested his pack against the log, splaying his legs out in front of him. He took the moment to drink a bit from his Camelback, then motioned for the two girls to join him on the ground. They both got low.

  This time Lee spoke in a normal tone. “I’m going to get you guys back to my house, but the truck is not an option right now. We have to assume that whoever that was at the house knows we were there and is following us.”

  “Will they be?” Angela sounded worried.

  Lee shrugged. “I don’t know. But we will assume they are, so we aren’t surprised when they show up looking for us.” Lee pointed due east. “There’s another farmhouse a few miles that way. An old man lives there. I think he’s ex-military, and might be willing to help another military man out. I think he has a vehicle, too. We’re going to head that way and hope for the best.”

  “I think that’s Mr. Burnsides.” Angela gave Lee a look that communicated it was only a guess. “He’s the only ex-military guy I know around here.”

  “You know what he drives?” Lee asked.

  “No idea. Haven’t really talked to him. Seen him in the market once or twice. Older guy with gray hair. Don’t know him other than that.”

  Lee nodded. That was essentially useless information, but Angela was only trying to be helpful. He looked at his watch. It was already nearly 1700 hours. It would be dark at about 2100 hours.

  “Alright, we have about four hours of daylight left.” Lee rolled himself onto his feet. “If we move quickly, we should be able to make it to Burnsides’ house before dark.”

  Abby pointed to Lee’s pack. “Do you have any food?”

  Angela put an arm on her daughter’s shoulder. “Please, if you have any food...we haven’t eaten in days.”

  Lee didn’t really want them eating on dehydrated stomachs. It could cause them to vomit and become even more dehydrated. But they also needed something to perk them up.

  “Yeah,” Lee dropped his pack and pulled out two MRE’s. He tore both of them open and fished through the contents. He extracted the Pop Tart and the fruit cocktail from one, and the pound cake and the Smarties from the other. He handed the candy to Abby and the fruit cocktail to Angela. “Eat those slowly for some carbs while we walk. If you hold it down okay, I’ll give you the Pop Tart and pound cake. And keep drinking that water.”

  Lee shouldered his pack again and started walking without any further instructions. The two girls followed after a moment of wrestling their individual packages open. They ate eagerly and quietly as they walked in Lee’s wake.

  ***

  Lee peered through thick summer foliage at the farmhouse that sat alone and dark, set back on a long dirt road. The forest came to a point, jutting out across surrounding farmland and pointing directly at the farmhouse. From the edge of the woods to the farmhouse was about 50 yards, and Lee made sure he stayed well back in the trees. All around him, flat farmland stretched, planted with half-grown tobacco crops.

  It was still light, but would be getting dark soon. They’d made the trip in a little under three hours. In the waning sunlight, Lee could see a large chicken coop in the backyard with several hens and a rooster patrolling the chicken wire. They seemed to still be well taken care of.

  The house was dark, but the upstairs windows were open. The interior looked black. If Mr. Burnsides was a true sniper, he would not be sticking his muzzle out the window, but hiding far back in the darkness of the room, away from light and prying eyes. Lee wondered if he was being watched right then through the scope of a high-power rifle and the thought made him very uncomfortable. He wanted cover, but there was only concealment in the form of bushes and thin trees. Nothing that could stop a bullet.

  In the front yard of the farmhouse was the pile of bodies Sam had spoken of. They were no longer smoldering, and were mostly ash, but Lee could see some bits of charred skeleton, and even some items of clothing, and a single boot. Again, he wondered if these were infected or just the bodies of everyone that came looking for help and didn’t find it.

  Lee looked behind him, keeping his movements very slow as to not attract any attention he didn’t already have. From where he was laying, he could not see Angela or Abby in their hiding place about 50 yards back in the woods. They were to wait for Lee to give them the signal before they came out. No sense in everyone dying if Mr. Burnsides turned out to be a nut-job. Lee wasn’t thrilled about being the guinea pig, but he couldn’t very well make Angela or Abby do it.

  Lee took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, perversely wondered what it felt like to have a high-power bullet punch a hole in your chest, and then stood. He kept his M4 slung, but both his hands in the air. He walked slowly to the edge of the woods, and then stepped out into the open.

  Please don’t be a crazy motherfucker...

  No shot rang out.

  A white curtain in one of the dark windows stirred as a breeze kicked up and then died down.

  He kept his hands up, fingers splayed as though showing someone the number ten. He stepped a few feet closer to the house and was stopped by a barked command.

  “That’s far enough!”

  Lee stretched his hands up a little further and couldn’t help but cringe, waiting for the shot. He didn’t like putting his life in other people’s hands, but this was one of those situations where you just had to bite the proverbial bullet and do it. The voice came from the house again. “Put your hands on top of your head and interlace your fingers.”

  Lee complied.

&
nbsp; “Now get down on your knees.”

  Again, Lee did as he was told, but decided to try talking. “I have two civilians with me that need help.”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  Lee clamped his mouth shut, his palms feeling a bit cold and sweaty.

  “Look down at the ground and don’t look back up until I tell you. If you disobey me, you will be shot.”

  This was a bad idea.

  Lee looked down at the ground. Several long moments passed and Lee heard quiet footsteps approach from his right side, then they swung wide around him and came up from behind. He felt a firm hand grip his interlaced fingers, holding them on the top of his head, while another hand patted him down. Lee’s sidearm was liberated from its holster, and his M4 was unclasped from its sling and removed. The hands explored his pockets and inside the tongue of his boots, checking—Lee presumed—for any hidden weapons.

  “Don’t move,” said the voice, very close now. Lee heard the soft footsteps retreat a few paces behind him and then stopped. “Moving slowly, turn and face me.”

  Lee kept his movements exaggeratedly slow, just to make sure. It was obvious that Mr. Burnsides, if that is who Lee was dealing with, was not to be fucked with. When Lee turned he found a man, probably in his mid 40’s, standing and pointing a Remington Model 700 rifle at him, topped with a very nice Leupold scope. Lee immediately noticed the man was tall and extremely thin. His long-sleeve denim shirt and khaki pants fit him snugly, so Lee assumed the man’s scarecrow figure was not a recent development and hadn’t been caused by food depravation. He wore a dirty old ball cap and Lee could see short, gray hair peeking out from underneath. Though the man’s skin looked taut over his skeletal features, his face was scoured with deep wrinkles that gave him a weathered look. Dark, narrowed eyes glared at Lee from underneath wild-looking eyebrows.

  This was not the man Lee knew from the market. The man spoke first. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Captain Lee Harden of the United States Army. I have two civilians in my care and we are only seeking to move through here and mean you no harm.”

  “Bullshit...” The man spat.

  Lee didn’t know whether he meant it about the United State Army thing, or about the mean-you-no-harm thing.

  “Haven’t seen regular Army for weeks,” the man clarified. “All we got left now is some POG reservists out pillaging everything they find in the name of reestablishing law and order.” He said POG like pogue. “You a POG reservist?”

  Lee shook his head and spoke in calm, level tones. “No, sir. I am active duty. The United State Army has sent me to help.”

  “Help with what?” the man snorted.

  “My ID is in my pack. Please, see for yourself.”

  Still pointing the rifle at him, the man knelt over the pack he had taken from Lee and hesitated over the pockets. Lee told him which pocket to go into and he delved in, retrieving Lee’s military ID card. He looked at it for a long moment, then put it back.

  “Still not convinced,” he declared.

  Lee nodded. “I understand your hesitancy, however, whether you are convinced or not of my occupation, I am not here to harm you, and I am only trying to find a way to get two civilians to a safe zone.”

  “Ain’t no safe zone around here. And what two civilians you keep talking about?”

  “They are hiding.”

  The man rolled his eyes. “I ain’t tryin’ to hurt nobody.”

  “Neither am I. And I have a safe zone. If you will promise not to harm me or the two civilians, I will be glad to explain everything to you...indoors.” The man considered this for a long moment. While he considered, Lee spoke again. “By the way, you aren’t Mr. Burnsides, are you?”

  He looked at Lee with suspicion in his eyes. “I am.”

  “Because I knew the man that lived here.” Lee didn’t elaborate, but left the unsaid question hanging in the air.

  “Don Burnsides. Yeah.” The man looked at the pile of ash that was once a burning tangle of corpses. “Don was my father.”

  Lee could see the pain in the man’s face, a face that didn’t usually display those types of feelings. There was a story there that Lee could tell the younger Burnsides didn’t want to talk about. As quickly as the look of pain came, it passed by, like a cloud casting a quick shadow and then rolling away in the wind.

  The younger Burnsides continued: “I’m Jack Burnsides. And I’m a Marine, so don’t try and bullshit me about no military crap. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  Lee didn’t pursue it. “Well, Jack, can we get indoors?”

  Jack shifted his position so that he could see Lee and the woods at the same time. “Call to your civilian friends. Have them come out. Unarmed.”

  Neither had a weapon, so Lee wasn’t worried about that. He yelled their names loudly into the woods and told them it was safe to come out. Lee and Jack waited in an awkward silence for several long moments before the sound of the two untrained woodland movers crashing through the forest reached them. After a few more seconds, the two of them emerged, Abby clinging tightly to Angela’s leg and staring at Jack with apprehension.

  Jack regarded the duo with some suspicion—he was quite the hardass—but did them the mercy of not pointing his rifle in their face. He stared at them as though trying to figure out whether they were dangerous or not. Lee was not sure what conclusion he finally came to, but he motioned towards the house with his rifle. “It’s about time to get indoors, anyway...night’s a bad time to come across one of them nutjobs.”

  ***

  Jack ushered the threesome into the house through the back door that led into the living room. He instructed them all to sit on the couch there while he barricaded the door. He had nailed 3⁄4 inch plywood into the door to cover the glass portion. On either side of the door he had constructed sturdy-looking wooden arms that held a 2x4 in place across the door, like an old castle, locked down against the barbarian hordes.

  After locking down the door, he went and checked the few ground-floor windows that were not completely boarded over. In a few of them he had cut murder holes into the plywood. Through these small openings the waning lights from outside cast a dim glow on the interior of the house. With the windows boarded and the doors locked down, it felt more like a tomb than a house.

  After he had checked the downstairs for security, Jack walked back into the center of the living room, casting Lee’s weapons into the corner of the room farthest from his reach. Jack then grabbed a gas lantern, cranked on the fuel, and sparked it. The room filled with the cold light of the propane lantern.

  With all three of his guests—or prisoners—occupying the couch, Jack chose a wing-backed chair, and situated it to face the trio. He laid the bolt action rifle across his lap and regarded each of the newcomers for a long moment before speaking.

  “I’m truly sorry if this seems harsh to you folks, but you have to understand my situation here. I’ve had everyone from the crazy ones to rogue military try to come and take my shit...pardon the language.”

  Lee nodded. “You never can be too careful.”

  Jack looked at him. “You say you’re army. I seen your ID, but I’m havin’ some trouble believing this story of yours. Explain.”

  Lee took a deep breath. “My explanation might seem far fetched to you, but it’s the truth.” He looked at Angela and Abby as he explained, since he had yet to explain the situation to them. “Without wasting time with too many details, I am a part of a government initiative, headed by the US Army called Project Hometown. Myself and forty-seven others just like me are stationed in every one of the lower forty-eight states. Our houses were built by the government and come with a heavy-duty underground bomb shelter...more like a vault. We refer to it as ‘The Hole.’ Anytime something happens that the government believes could cause a serious threat to the stability of the nation, they sequester us, each in our individual vaults. They maintain constant contact with us, until the crisis is over and they release us from the vaults
. If the crisis does not resolve itself, our orders are to wait 30 days and then begin our mission.”

  “It’s barely been over a month since this started,” Angela interjected. “Did they have you sequestered that early? Did they know this was going to happen?”

  “They didn’t know it was going to happen,” Lee shook his head. “But they plan for the worst case scenario. I’ve been sequestered many times, and it has never developed into anything worse than a bad news story. I’m sure they thought this was going to be the same thing...I know I did.”

  Jack brought the conversation back. “You mentioned a mission. What exactly is your ‘mission’?”

  “Rebuild a stable, centralized government in the event of total collapse.”

  His words were met with silence. Abby wasn’t terribly in tune with the conversation, but the two adults stared right at Lee for a long time. Finally the silence grew stale and Jack voiced what Angela was thinking.

  “So...If what you say is true, you wouldn’t be here if the government still existed.”

  “The government is completely gone...” Angela echoed, her voice carrying with it a sense of flat dejection, as though Lee had taken her last shred of hope.

  Lee leaned forward. “In all likelihood, the government is wiped out...at least the government as we knew it a month ago. It certainly seems that way to me. My mission doesn’t start until I stop receiving communications from them. The last communication I received was on July 2nd.”

  “What day is it now?” Angela sounded lost.

  “July 24th.” Jack leaned forward on his rifle.

  “Don’t you have some information for us?” Angela asked. “Is there some way we can cure this thing?”