Rising: A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Adventure (The Traveler Book 4)

by Tom Abrahams

  “What’s so funny?” asked Lou.

  Rudy side-eyed Marcus and then answered, “Nothing, I was just picking on Marcus.”

  Lou rolled her eyes. “No big triumph there. That’s easy pickings.”

  Marcus pulled a roll of nylon string from his pocket and moved toward his horse. “I’m going to need your knife in a minute, Lou.”

  “What’s that for?”

  “Yeah,” said Vic. “What’s that for?” He wasn’t sobbing anymore, but he didn’t look good. His eyelids had taken on a purplish hue, his skin almost gray. His wounded hand was bandaged now. Lou had cleaned the wound before slapping gauze on both sides of his hand and wrapping it with medical tape.

  Marcus acknowledged Vic with a wink but didn’t answer him. He opened up the package and started unwinding a healthy length of the orange string.

  “That’s going to be tough to knot, isn’t it?” asked Rudy.

  “I’m going to use a trucker’s knot,” said Marcus. “That’ll make it easier.”

  Once he’d pulled the appropriate length of line, he used Lou’s knife to cut it. Then he pulled Vic closer to the horse and began working the trucker’s knot. It was actually a series of knots that provided a mechanical advantage other knots couldn’t give.

  He’d learned it years earlier from a trucker friend of his named Kevin. While Marcus manipulated the string, doubling it over for extra strength, he realized he hadn’t thought about Kevin in close to a decade. In the early days of the Scourge, when he’d made a run to Abilene, he’d run into Kevin and they’d talked strategy. Kevin was a prepper too, who’d used his long hauls to listen to audiobooks about survival and preparedness. He’d turned Marcus onto some of the classic fiction and nonfiction that dealt with SHTF and TEOTWAWKI.

  “You gotta read Franklin Horton’s Borrowed World,” Kevin had suggested as they stood in the long line at the store. “It’s maybe fifteen years old now, but it’s got great advice and suggestions about the right tools to have.”

  Marcus looped one end of the doubled line around Vic’s waist. He wondered what had happened to Kevin. There were so many people across whose paths Marcus had come that were now ghosts haunting his memories.

  If anybody had made it, Kevin would have been one of them. Marcus shook his mind free of the thought, worked the knot in the middle of the line, and finished his work at the saddle.

  “Is that going to hold?” asked Lou.

  “It’ll hold,” said Marcus. “Vic here should hope it holds. Last thing he wants is to die. Right, Vic?”

  Vic struggled against the bind that ran around his waist and to his wrists, testing the line. His shoulders drooped and he hung his head. Blood leaked through the gauze on the back of his hand, but he didn’t appear to notice it or care.

  Marcus unhooked the canteen from his pack and took a couple of steps toward Vic. “Tip your head back and take a drink,” he said and held the mouth of the container above Vic’s open mouth. “I need you hydrated, so you let me know when you need more water.”

  He pulled a Twinkie from the bag, pulled apart the plastic wrap, and stuffed the snack into Vic’s mouth. Vic devoured the treat and Marcus gave him another pour of water.

  “Let’s go,” he said, and climbed back onto the Appaloosa. “We’ve got a ways to go and I know Rudy’s in a hurry.”

  Lou and Rudy climbed aboard their respective horses and the group set off. By the end of the day, they’d reach San Angelo and Marcus would be a step closer to the revenge he myopically sought.

  CHAPTER 11

  OCTOBER 24, 2042, 8:18 PM

  SCOURGE +10 YEARS

  SAN ANGELO, TEXAS

  Marcus slid from his horse, a sharp jab of pain weakening his wounded leg when his feet hit the hard ground. The wind whipped against him, flapping the tips of his jacket collar into his face. It had taken longer than he’d hoped to get to San Angelo. But they were here now. In the dark, they stood in an old park on the riverbank opposite the Pearl on the Concho Hotel. The snaking Concho River and a bridge was all that stood between them and Barbas’s lair.

  Marcus slid the Springfield from the scabbard and drew it to his shoulder. He adjusted the scope and aimed it toward the large building south of him. Parts of the facade were hidden by the scraggly branches of willows and oaks that populated the steep slopes on either side of the narrow waterway. The arched windows along the front of the building were curved into half-circles at their tops. Soft yellow light flickered from inside most of them. The hipped roof was adorned with several peaks. There was a large peak at the center of the building above the largest of the arched windows. Beneath it was a porte cochère under which a pair of armed guards paced back and forth. A third guard leaned against one of the rectangular columns, drinking from a flask. To the right of the building there was the loud rumble of a generator.

  Marcus aimed the scope upward. “I see three men out front,” he said. “There are a couple more on the roof, at least from what I can see in the low light. Anything to add, Vic?”

  Vic was sitting crossed-legged on the ground, his bound wrists in his lap. It was dark, but Marcus saw the exhaustion on his face.

  “C’mon, Vic,” said Lou. “You best start telling us what else you know.”

  “I never worked here,” said Vic. “I was only a customer.”

  The wind blew through Marcus and he could see its chilly effect on the others. All three of them frowned. Their red-tipped noses dripped snot, their eyes half-closed to avoid the drying rush of the cold air.

  Rudy took a step toward Vic and looked down at him. He snapped his fingers and chirped a short whistle. Fifty bounded to his side and sat. Rudy said something in Spanish and the dog snarled at Vic. Drool dripped from his jaws, reflecting the thin band of moonlight that offered some visibility.

  Vic looked at the dog and swallowed hard. “There’s a couple of guys in the main lobby,” he said. “And there’s a couple in the pool area. They watch the rooms. I mean, that’s what I remember.”

  Rudy put his hand on Fifty’s head and the dog relaxed, licking its chops as Rudy rubbed the dog’s ears. “Good boy,” he said. “Good dog.”

  “What about Barbas?” asked Marcus. “Where’s he?”

  Vic eyed the dog as he spoke. “I never saw him. I wasn’t there to see him.”

  “You think you can get him out front?”

  “If I don’t, I’m dead, right?”

  Marcus nodded. “Right. All right then, time to execute the plan. Everybody good with it? You all remember what we discussed on the way?”

  “It was my idea,” said Lou, “so I think I’m good with it.”

  “It wasn’t entirely your idea,” said Marcus.

  Rudy nodded. “It kinda was.”

  “I agree,” said Vic. “It was the girl’s idea.”

  “Shut up,” said Marcus. “Just stick to the plan.”

  Lou handed Marcus her knife and he cut Vic free of the bind. The injured gang member rubbed his bruised wrists, wincing. He said something unintelligible underneath a gust of wind and turned to march toward the hotel. When he reached the bridge, Rudy nudged Marcus with his shoulder.

  “You think you can trust him?”

  Marcus raised his rifle and eyed the scope. “No telling. We’re about to find out. Let’s be set to move regardless.”

  Marcus traced Vic’s slow movement toward the hotel while Lou and Rudy unloaded their gear and readied their weapons. Rudy had the handgun and shotgun fully loaded. He ran his fingers along the extra ammunition he wore diagonally across his chest in the leather shell belt. Lou had her knives and the Remington.

  “He’s getting close,” Marcus said. “He’s got his hands above his head. The three guards at the front have their weapons trained on him.”

  Lou stepped next to Marcus and looked south across the river while Rudy made sure the horses were secure, tying all three of them to the leg of a concrete picnic table.

  The wind was relentless, blowing from the north
at Marcus’s back. It stung the tops of his ears and chilled the back of his neck despite his raised collar. The branches of the trees that surrounded them creaked, and what leaves remained rustled like a rolling surf crashing ashore.

  “They’re talking to him,” Marcus said above the howl of the wind. “He’s on his knees now, right in front of the entry.”

  “I wish we could hear what he was saying,” said Lou. “I’d feel a lot better about this if we could hear him.”

  “I wish we had a neutron bomb we could drop on the place,” Marcus said, then remembered Rudy’s wife and cousin’s wife were possibly inside. He glanced over his shoulder to apologize, but Rudy was still with the anxious horses and apparently hadn’t heard him.

  “He didn’t hear you,” said Lou, “but I know what you meant.”

  Marcus refocused on the scope. One of the guards was searching Vic while the others kept their weapons trained on him.

  “If he’s doing what we told him,” said Marcus, “he’s about to get an audience with the big man.”

  “If he’s doing what we told him,” said Rudy, standing behind Marcus’s shoulder now, “we just have to hope Barbas bites.”

  The guard frisking Vic finished the job and then disappeared inside the building. One of the other guards helped Vic to his feet but held him at a safe distance. Vic kept his hands above his head, still talking to the men. They weren’t responding. Minutes passed. Then the guard who’d gone inside reappeared. With him was a man with a large beard.

  “Barbas,” Marcus breathed. “Barbas is here. He bit.”

  “Take your shot,” said Lou.

  Marcus pressed the butt against his shoulder and exhaled. He tried adjusting his aim for the wind, which was almost straight behind him but would intermittently shift slightly to the southwest. He moved his finger to the trigger, centering his aim on Barbas’s wide barrel chest. And then Barbas turned and looked right at him.

  Startled, Marcus hesitated. An instant later he pulled the trigger, but it was too late. Barbas had moved and put a bullet in Vic’s head with a handgun at point-blank range. As the echo of the single shot reverberated across the river to the park, Marcus fired again. A strong gust of wind swirled around him and across the river. The bullet slammed into the column next to Barbas. Marcus cursed. Barbas and his men immediately disappeared inside the building. Vic’s body was facedown on the cement, blood pooling around his head.

  “We’re blown,” he said. “Vic is dead. Barbas and his men are inside.”

  Lou was wide-eyed. “You missed?”

  “Twice,” said Marcus. “We’ve got work to do.”

  “Plan B?” asked Rudy.

  “What’s plan B?” Lou asked. “I didn’t know we had a plan B.”

  Marcus reloaded the Springfield, slung his pack onto one shoulder, and started toward the bridge. “You better come up with it fast, Scarecrow,” he said without turning around to look at her. “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

  Marcus moved with purpose, ignoring the ache in his leg and the cold wind that pushed him forward. Lou and Rudy kept pace, as did Fifty. The dog strode alongside his owner and they crossed the bridge together. As soon as they reached the edge of the bridge, Marcus stopped. The wind was making his eyes water.

  “Shoot every man you see,” he said to the others. “Don’t hesitate; don’t think about it. Kill them. Otherwise they’ll kill you.”

  “What about Barbas?”

  “Kill him too.”

  “What if we can’t find Norma and Trina?” Rudy asked. “What if we can’t find them and we’ve killed everyone? What do we do then?”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find them.”

  Rudy nodded, his eyes wide with the worry. Marcus was counseling him against his purpose for being there; to find his wife and Trina. He pumped his shotgun. Lou didn’t say anything, only motioned Marcus to the side, put the butt of the rifle to her shoulder, and aimed at the roof.

  “Give me a second,” she said from the corner of her mouth. She tensed and pulled the trigger, quickly altering her aim to the left and firing again. A third shot followed and she lowered the weapon as two bodies tumbled from the roof and landed on the concrete in front of the hotel.

  She smirked. “Two down.”

  Marcus slung his rifle over his head. He drew the Glock and motioned for the group to move forward. Together the trio inched toward the front of the building. Vic’s body was in front of them, his head turned awkwardly to one side and his eyes open. The line burns were evident on his wrists. Marcus hesitated at the body and considered saying a prayer for the dead man, then thought better of it and pushed into the hotel lobby. The three of them fanned out, each of them moving from side to side. It was eerily quiet, especially in contrast to the gusting, howling wind outside.

  There were a couple of dimly glowing lightbulbs to one side of the space, casting an off-white glow across the room. The long shadows of chairs and pedestal tables challenged Marcus’s ability to see possible threats.

  “Where are we going?” Rudy whispered.

  “Just stay with me,” said Marcus under his breath and led the team to the far left of the room, hugging a long wall that ran from the lobby to a glass-paneled wall at its far end.

  There was light and there were moving shadows beyond the glass. That was where they were headed.

  Moving forward, Marcus noticed drops of blood on the tile floor, drips that left a trail from the front entrance to the glass panels. Maybe he had hit someone with his first shot. The trail grew thicker the closer it got to the panels. They reached the back of the room and Marcus took a deep breath. His muscles tensed and he raised the Glock with both hands.

  “They know we’re here,” said Lou. “We’ve lost the element of surprise.”

  Marcus glared at Lou. She’d warned on multiple occasions that firing from a distance and missing would create bigger problems. He’d ignored her every time. He’d been right until now. Now, though, was what mattered.

  “Is there another way inside?” asked Rudy. “Do we have to come in the front?”

  Marcus looked at Rudy and then at Lou. They were both right. His bravado could get all of them killed. “You’re right,” he huffed. “Let’s try the back.”

  Marcus worked backwards, keeping his eye on the glass panels and any emerging threat from behind. There was nothing. They reached the outdoors and the wind slapped Marcus in the face with a cold, violent hand. He blinked back the chill.

  Once outside, he led them to the river. It was nearly dry, just a trickle not worthy of being called a creek, let alone a river. Carefully they climbed down the embankment and treaded east along the front of the building until it curved south again around the hotel’s side. Marcus climbed up the embankment and, once he reached the top, lay down on his stomach to survey what lay in front of them.

  From his vantage point he could see three sides of the building. Directly in front of him, pressed against the hotel, was a trio of generators. The wind made it difficult to tell how many of them were running, but they sounded like the old gasoline-powered generators people would buy for hurricane season. They could power a refrigerator or a few fans overnight, but not a lot more than that.

  “Where are they getting gasoline?” Marcus wondered aloud.

  “What?” asked Rudy. He’d moved alongside Marcus on the bank.

  “Just talking to myself,” said Marcus. He scanned the perimeter of the building, and lightning flashed across the sky to their right.

  “Did you see that?” asked Lou excitedly. “First time in a long time.”

  Marcus looked skyward. She was right. It had been a long time. The lightning flashed again, illuminating the thin layer of clouds moving quickly across the inky black sky.

  “There’s no thunder,” said Rudy. “That storm’s pretty far off.”

  “It’s coming this way, though,” said Marcus. “Those clouds are moving from the north with the wind. It won’t be long. Hang here for a second. I have
an idea.”

  Marcus used his elbows to help him gain traction at the top edge of the embankment. His rifle rattled against his back and swung to one side as he climbed to his feet. He pulled the strap over his head and made sure the safety was off.

  The three of them neared the generators and the smell of gasoline carried past them in the wind. All three of them were running. And Marcus was right, they were eight-thousand-watt portable generators. From each of them ran large black power cables extending up the wall of the building and into a window about ten feet off the ground. Marcus coughed from a gust of exhaust.

  He cleared his throat. “Let’s see how you like this,” he said, leaned his rifle against the wall, and pulled the cords from each of the generators. “Won’t be long now.”

  He grabbed his rifle and hustled back to the embankment, almost sliding into it like a baseball player stealing second as another bright flash of lightning strobed in the distance. His heart was racing and he was breathing hard.

  “You okay, Dorothy?” asked Lou.

  “Fine,” Marcus snapped. “Get your rifle ready.”

  Lou spun her Astros cap around so the brim was facing backwards and perched her elbows below the lip of the embankment. Marcus set himself and checked his scope. Both of them were ready to go.

  “What do you want me to do?” asked Rudy. “My shotgun isn’t gonna do us any good from here.”

  “Spot for us,” said Marcus. “In case we get tunnel vision, we need you telling us where the threats are. Plus, once we open fire, who knows how close they’re getting.”

  “Got it,” said Rudy. He scratched Fifty underneath his chin. Fifty’s ears turned back and his eyes narrowed with delight. Rudy patted his head and the dog lay prone on the bank like the rest of them, awaiting further instructions.

  Another flicker of light to their right carried with it the distant roll of thunder. The storm was getting closer. Judging from the speed of the wind, it wouldn’t be long before it was on top of them. Another flash revealed a pair of armed men moving around the side of the building from the rear. Both of them had their heads on swivels.