by D. J. Molles
One more kick and the corner of the plywood came loose. For a brief flash as the plywood swung back, Lee saw grass on the other side. This time he put his hands to the plywood and pushed as hard as he could, feeling a few more nails come out of the window frame.
There was a loud boom at the bedroom door. “He’s in here! He’s in here!” Someone shouted. Lee knew the bedroom door wouldn’t last long. He pushed the plywood and saw about a foot of daylight through the jagged teeth of the nails that still poked through the plywood. Lee knew it was going to be painful, but he couldn’t wait any longer. Pain was better than death. Lee gave the plywood covering one last shove and put his head through. As soon as his hand let go of the plywood, it swung back into place and Lee felt the nails gouge into his skin. He let out a yell, less because of the immediate pain and more because he knew it was about to hurt so much more.
With the nails already imbedded in his skin, Lee thrust his shoulders through the opening, felt the sharp points rip through skin and muscle, clawing down his back. He screamed until the breath ran out, and couldn’t draw another breath. He planted both his hands on the side of the outside wall and pushed with everything he had.
The nails were caught on his belt.
Through the blinding pain, Lee twisted, each movement he made working the nails deeper into his flesh. He grabbed the very corner of the plywood and yanked it out as hard as he possibly could. His belt came free of the snag and he fell, the plywood slamming the nails into the side of his left leg, but his downward momentum didn’t allow him to stop. The metal spikes sheared right through his flesh and Lee landed in a heap on the ground, felt the grass on his face.
Bullets punched through the plywood covering.
Lee didn’t think they would follow him through the window. They would go out and around, which gave him a few precious seconds to escape. He tried to haul himself to his feet, but found his back in such excruciating pain that he couldn’t complete the movement. On hands and knees, he scrambled forward, trying to see where he was going.
Pain blurred his vision and made the sun appear white-hot and everything touched by it was blindingly bright.
The only easy day was yesterday.
Lee almost laughed at himself. Get the fuck up, Lee! Get off the fucking ground!
“There he is!”
Lee brought one leg up, the stretch of his skin spreading the deep lacerations all over his body and causing another wave of intense pain. He managed to put one foot on the ground, and kneeled on one knee, supporting his body with a hand on the ground. He looked behind him.
Some guy in a black sleeveless t-shirt was running at him, holding an AR-15. “It’s him! It’s the guy!” Around the corner of the condominium complex, two more gunmen appeared. Lee knew he couldn’t outrun them. He looked around for anything he might use as a weapon. A stick, a sharp piece of glass, maybe a 2x4 if he was lucky. He knew they would kill him if he fought, but he also knew that he wasn’t going to let them win. In his current state of mind, his imminent death simply seemed...regrettable.
Lee couldn’t find anything to use, so he focused on the first approaching gunman and decided if the man didn’t cap him by the time he got within arms reach, he would play the wounded captive, then he would seize the man’s head and plant his thumbs into each of his eye sockets, rip out the eyes and, with enough force, gouge through to the brain. Then he would use the man’s rifle to take out the remaining gunmen.
But as the man and his comrades approached Lee, a very strange thing happened.
They burst into flame. The blast of heat nearly knocked Lee back onto the ground. The sound of their screaming was even enough to make Lee’s stomach turn as they stumbled around madly and collapsed on the ground in writhing heaps of flame. But over their screams Lee heard someone call his name out, a voice he didn’t recognize.
“Lee! Run!”
Lee didn’t need any encouragement. The momentary reprieve from certain death boosted him enough to get to his feet and start staggering towards the nearest cover: jagged remains of a condo building, which was now just a few charred brick walls, but hopefully enough to stop a bullet and give Lee a long enough moment to assess his situation and perhaps come up with a plan to get himself out of here.
What about Angela and Abby and Sam? Lee had to survive first before he could worry about the others. And who was it that had called to him? It had been a man’s voice. Lee made it to a waist-high brick wall and clambered over. He fell onto his back on the other side, found that too painful, and rolled onto his side. He looked around, didn’t see anyone. Who the hell had called to him? And where was Angela and the kids?
He began processing what was happening around him. Nearby to him, he was hearing some sporadic pistol fire. It wasn’t rapid, but it was close. It was also a smaller caliber. Further away, Lee could here the crack of more powerful weapons, probably rifles. The two appeared to be exchanging gunfire. Lee also noted that none of the gunfire seemed to be directed at his position.
He leaned up and peered over the top of the brick wall.
He was looking down a wide corridor that was once a parking lot for the condos. On either side of the long parking lot were what remained of the rectangular, two-story condos. There was a single condo building between Lee’s position and the condo he’d been trapped in. He could see the window he’d snaked out of and it faced the parking lot. In the darkness of the condo, he’d become disoriented and hadn’t realized what direction he’d been facing.
At the corner of the condominium building he’d just escaped from, four bodies were still burning, though they’d stopped rolling around. Behind them, Lee could see a group of men huddled behind a burned out SUV, taking pot shots at another building across the parking lot and closer to Lee’s position.
Lee followed their fire and saw the muzzle flashes coming from the ground-floor of one of the condo’s facing the parking lot. Then Lee watched as a young man with a red bandana covering his face leaned out of the front door of the condo and hurled a bottle with a flaming tail. The bottle arced high and landed with a splash of fire, just on top of the SUV the gunmen were using for cover. The splash of flaming liquid rained down on the gunmen taking cover there and they immediately began trying to put themselves out.
The young man screamed something at whoever else was inside the condo and began sprinting for Lee’s position. A second later, he was followed by Angela, Abby, and Sam, and a second young man, also with a bandana covering his face, this one blue. They moved together in a mass, undisciplined and panicked. The young man with the blue bandana held a black revolver in one hand, what looked to Lee like an old .38 or .357 police issue revolver. He took pot shots as he ran, the rounds flying wildly down range and impacting no where near his intended targets.
Red Bandana vaulted over the wall and pulled Sam and then Abby over. Angela and Blue Bandana followed.
As soon as they saw him, Sam and Abby both exclaimed in unison, “Captain! We thought you were dead!”
“No time for reunions!” Red grabbed Lee by the arm and hauled him up to his feet. “We need to get the fuck out of here!”
Lee craned his neck back at the burning wreckage. “How many more?”
“We counted ten coming in,” Blue spoke up as he pushed the kids towards the back of the complex. “I think we got six or seven of ‘em.”
The group made quickly for the back of the complex. Lee observed that the entire complex appeared to be enclosed with the same wrought-iron fencing as the front was. It was about ten feet tall with spikes on top and Lee wasn’t sure whether these kids expected him to climb it or not, but in his current condition, he thought he might disappoint them.
They hit the fence and started running along it. All six of them were out of breath when Lee saw what they were looking for. A section of the wrought-iron fence had been pulled away and there was an obvious footpath cutting through the brush on the other side. The two men in bandanas didn’t bother to explain. They moved the
group single file through the footpath, Lee and Red taking point.
Lee moved the best he could, but each step sent raking pain down his back and legs. The deep lacerations covered so much of his skin that he couldn't find a way to move that didn't feel like it was stretching the wounds apart. Everything began to feel alternately hot, then cold. He could feel the back of his shirt and pants beginning to cling to his skin, soaked with his blood. He was pretty sure he hadn't lost enough blood to cause him to pass out, but the pain was making him feel light headed.
The two young men in bandanas—both perhaps in their early twenties—didn’t appear very cautious, and Lee got the impression that they were more or less familiar with this territory and felt comfortable that it contained no threats. This made Lee feel only slightly better. It was obvious to him that the two of them weren’t well trained, and their eagerness to put ground between the gunmen and themselves might be making them move faster than was prudent.
The footpath broke from thick brush into moderate woods and the group swung a hard right. The woods almost instantly cleared into what Lee thought was an old service road beneath some power lines. At the edge of the woods, there was a beat-up white pickup truck that Lee thought looked like it belonged in the desert with a couple Iraqi militants sitting in the back.
As soon as the group cleared the woods, an older man stepped out of the driver’s side of the pickup with a pump shotgun in one hand. He held up a hand and they stopped moving towards the pickup. Lee got the distinct feeling that this man was in control.
“What the fuck is this?” he demanded.
Red let go of Lee and he and Blue approached the older man, speaking in low tones, though Lee could still hear what they were saying. As he listened, he watched some sparkling spots appear at the corners of his vision and he bent over, trying to keep blood in his brain and keep thinking clearly.
“They were attacked by Milo’s guys. We couldn’t just leave them.”
The older guy stared at Lee while he listened.
Red hung his head a bit. “I mean...we don’t have to take them back or anything...but we just couldn’t leave them out there. You know what Milo does to women and children. And the dude's pretty fucked up, too."
The old man shook his head and spoke in a harsh whisper. “This is the third time you've put me in this position. We can't care for these people! We can barely take care of our own!” He stepped forward and addressed Lee and his group. “Look, folks...my boys didn’t want to see you guys die, so they risked their lives to save you. However, unfortunately, we can’t take you back with us.”
Lee just looked at the older man. His tongue was stiff and dry and his scalp was tingling.
Angela tried to speak up. “But...”
“Ma’am, we have no room for newcomers. We’re overcrowded as it is, and we certainly don’t have the supplies to take care of you. We’re barely getting by ourselves. I know it sounds harsh, but I have to think of my group first. Please understand, we would help if we could, but we can’t.”
The older man turned back towards the pickup truck and spoke through clenched teeth. “Give them your canteens and whatever food we brought.”
Lee cleared his throat and fought to think clearly. “How many people do you have in your group?”
The older man stopped and turned. He eyed Lee up and down, unsure. “That’s none of your business.”
“Are you the leader of the group?” Lee countered.
The man crossed his arms. “I speak for him.”
Lee smiled weakly. “I’m pretty sure he’ll want to meet me.”
CHAPTER 19: THE SURVIVORS
The older man just laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he won’t.”
Lee laughed along with him, not because anything was funny, but because it was the exact opposite of what the older man was expecting. “You always send your boys out to tangle with gangs of raiders with nothing but a 1980’s police issue revolver and a couple of Molotov cocktails?”
The man’s laughing tapered off and he got serious. “We have plenty of weapons. Don’t think we’re not well defended.”
“Hmm.” Lee looked thoughtful. He continued to speak, thinking in the back of his mind that he hoped his words were making sense. “Of course you would say that to me. I’m an outsider and you don’t want to let on that ten guys with assault rifles could take your entire operation over. Don't worry, that's not us. But what do you have back at the base? A few shotguns? A few hunting rifles? Mix-and-match ammunition? Maybe a couple hundred rounds total?”
The man was silent now, his face made of stone.
Before the man could interrupt, Lee pressed on. “You already admitted that you don’t have any extra food or water, but I think maybe you don’t have any at all, or at least not enough to get you more than a few weeks down the road. I figure you wouldn’t be sending two outgunned men into a war zone unless things were pretty desperate.” Lee raised his eyebrows. “Should I go on? Any medical supplies to speak of? Of course not. Who has medical supplies when you’re just trying to find your next meal and not get killed or infected. Any basic communications systems? I think if you had them, your boys would have been using them to speak with you.”
“Just shut the fuck up.” The man said quietly. “If you try to fuck with us, I will personally find you and rip your fucking heart out.”
Lee held up his hands and blinked to clear his rapidly fading vision. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m here to help. I can get you access to everything you need. Guns, ammo, food, water, medical supplies. You name it. But whether you accept my help or not is up to you. Me and my group will continue to survive like we have been, and eventually we will encounter a group of survivors that wants our help and they will graciously receive everything I have to offer. Too bad it won’t be you guys.”
“Yeah,” the old man shook his head. “Too bad. Look, I understand the desperate situation you find yourselves in, but I’ve heard people promise all kinds of things just to get some food and water.”
Lee could tell the older man was waffling on his decision, or he wouldn’t be defending it. “Then don’t give us anything. Blind fold us, tie us up, and don’t even take us into your camp. Just let me speak with whoever is in charge. If he doesn’t like what I have to say, you can kick us to the curb, and you didn’t lose a thing.”
The man stared at Lee for a long time.
“Come on, Bill...” Red, who had now removed his face covering, prodded. “It can’t hurt. And he needs to see Doc.”
Bill took another moment just to make it clear that he had come to his decision on his own and not from the prodding of his underlings. “Fine.” He pointed a thick finger at Lee. “But you’re all getting blindfolded and tied up until we figure out what’s going on.”
***
Lee maintained consciousness for perhaps another two minutes. Getting blindfolded and tied up and placed in the back of the pickup truck was hazy. After that he was in a dark, nonsensical dreamland. He was on a roller coaster that wouldn't stop going down. It just kept plummeting and everyone on it was trying to get out. One by one, their safety harnesses failed and they went flying out of the coaster, screaming as they floated off into space. Eventually it was only Lee riding that lonely roller coaster to oblivion.
He woke up when the roller coaster slammed into the ground.
The pickup truck had hit a stiff bump and he'd banged his head on the bed of the truck. He could smell the rust and the dried leaves and dirt that caked the truck bed, but none of it made sense to him. Then he would quickly lose consciousness again. In the brief moments when he was awake, he desperately tried to twist around to feel and make sure that the GPS device was still in his cargo pocket. He thought it was. But he wanted to put his hands on it. The pain of the cuts in his back made the twisting movement difficult, and he never quite succeeded in getting his hand in his pocket.
After the smell of the truck bed, the next thing Lee remembered was standing up.
He wondered if this was another dream.
"Jesus Christ, Bill!" The angry voice said. "Did you have to blindfold them? This guy’s half-dead anyway. Doc! Doc!"
"Where the hell did he go?"
"He was right behind me."
"Someone get Doc."
"He's right here, he's right here."
"Fuckin-A, Bill, did you do this?" This was a new voice, slightly higher than the others, but still a male voice, Lee thought.
"No. I think Milo's guys did it to him."
Lee opened his mouth but his throat was dry and scratchy.
"What? You gotta speak up, buddy."
"I just got scraped by nails...Angela and Abby are...dehydrated...Sam too."
Doc spoke again. "Mikey, get the chick and the two kids into my triage room. And someone help me with this guy." To Lee, "Hey, buddy...You say you got scratched by nails? Can you tell me how that happened?"
"Window." Lee responded.
There was a brief moment of silence and Lee felt the hands pulling him forward. He tried to move his feet, and found his knees weak. He was thankful for whoever was holding him up.
"Seriously," Doc said to someone else. "Can we take the fuckin' blindfold off? Are we done with this Guantanimo shit? Thank you."
The world was suddenly very bright. Lee squinted. When his blurry vision cleared, he tried to focus on his surroundings for a moment and figure out where the hell he was. He could see that there was gravel under his feet. There were several large vehicles parked around him, a few beat up old pickups, like the one Jason had been in. Behind the vehicles, Lee could see some curious faces staring at him. He looked straight ahead and saw what appeared to be their destination: a steel shipping container. He also noticed that behind the shipping container were several others, and behind them, a large industrial building of some sort.
