Tabernacle (Super Pulse Book 3)

by Dave Conifer

  He was about to ask the others what they saw when Dwayne yanked on his shirt and pointed at the vans. He’d seen them, too. There wasn’t anything left to talk about. “We better get back to Savoy Street,” Nick said. “John needs to know about this. Not that there’s anything we can do about it until Carly gets here.”

  Twenty-two

  Carly was confused as she walked as quickly as she could toward the front gate. Whatever had happened with the two stolen vans, the camp looked stable and safe. But why was everybody trying to grab at her and slow her down? She had an urgent message to deliver. She ignored whatever it was that they were saying, repeating over and over that she needed to see Carlo. “Tell him I’ll be down at the Garage.”

  “There is no Garage anymore!” somebody shouted from behind after she’d torn free and was trotting down the dirt road toward the lake. “That’s what we’re trying to tell you!” That got her attention. She stopped and turned around.

  The campers moved closer, but sensing her agitation, stopped before enveloping her. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What happened to the Garage? Where’s my dad?” She turned and started running toward the lake again.

  “Carlo’s here!” somebody yelled. Again Carly stopped and turned. The crowd parted, and she saw both Carlo and Grover himself walking briskly towards her. All of a sudden she had a bad feeling about this, now that two of the most important people in the camp were seeking her out, both with grim expressions on their faces.

  “Welcome back, Carly,” Carlo said, sounding uncharacteristically subdued.

  “We need to talk,” Grover said.

  Carly looked back and forth at them waiting for an explanation. “Okay, let’s talk,” she said. “What happened?”

  “We had some trouble here after you took off for Lockworth,” Carlo said. “Down at the Garage.”

  “I knew something like that happened, because somebody stole our vans,” she said bluntly, looking at their faces. Both looked stunned that she already knew. “How many did they get? Not all of them, I hope.”

  “How on earth did you know that?” Carlo exclaimed. “You weren’t even here!”

  “I saw them out on the road,” she said simply. “So what happened to the Garage?”

  “Carly, we need to go somewhere and talk,” Grover said calmly. Carlo waved the rest of the crowd away.

  “Just tell me,” Carly said. “How much worse could it be?” But her voice broke as she said it, betraying the veneer of calm she’d been working to maintain. Something else was wrong, very wrong. It was worse than stolen vans or the loss of the Garage. “Spit it out, okay?” she said to Grover. “Please,” she added, remembering who she was talking to.

  “Carly, we had another invasion the day you left,” Grover said. “I’m sorry to tell you that your father didn’t survive it. He was in the Garage. Apparently that was their target. I’m sorry.”

  Carly’s mouth fell open as she stared at Grover. “No,” she said. “Not dad. No way.”

  “I’m so sorry, Carly,” said Carlo.

  He’s gone?” Carly asked, unable to accept what she’d just heard.

  “I’m afraid so,” Grover said solemnly.

  “Where is he now?” she asked.

  “We had to bury him,” Grover said. “We don’t have a morgue. We can’t take any chances on—“

  You couldn’t wait a day or two for me to get back,” she said softly, as if she was talking to herself. “Where did you put him?”

  “In the cemetery back in the woods,” Carlo said. “Not far from the Garage. I mean, where the Garage was.”

  “How did he die?” Carly asked.

  “He was shot,” Grover said. “He died instantly.”

  Carly shook her head, a look of bitterness on her face. “I bet you always say that,” she told him. “It doesn’t help.” She looked down the road between her feet, surprised that there were no tears. She felt like she might pass out, and wanted to grab on to one of the men to support herself, but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. None of which made any sense to her. “Did it happen in the Garage?” she asked.

  “It did,” Grover answered.

  “Then I want to go there,” she said firmly.

  “There’s nothing to go to, Carly,” Carlo said.

  “I don’t care,” she replied. “But Carlo? I brought two men back with me. They’re in the van.” She sniffed. Now the tears were coming. “You might recognize them, but you have to leave them alone. They’re on our side.” A deep breath prevented a breakdown. “Send somebody back to protect them. I’ll explain after I go to the Garage,” she choked out.

  ~~~

  Twenty minutes later, her tears dried and no more forthcoming, she was at the pile of scorched wood and ashes that used to be her workplace. To her relief, most of the vehicles were still parked where she and her father had left them in the adjoining field. After taking a seat on the edge of dock, she asked for and received the details of the attack. Carlo offered to take her to her father’s grave, but she declined. “Maybe later,” she said, her feet dangling over the water. “I’m not ready.”

  “How did you know about the vans?” Carlo finally found the courage to ask. “Did you say you saw them? And who did you bring back with you?”

  It took Carly only about five minutes to bring him up to speed on everything that had happened, and what she’d seen. He agreed to argue for dispatching vehicles to go to Lockworth, and to add a healthy contingent of fighters after hearing that other attackers, likely the same ones who’d raided the Garage and killed her father, were now a danger to the mission they’d sent there. In light of what Carly had told him about the vans, it seemed they weren’t just a problem for far-away Lockworth. Whoever this dangerous army was, they were a common enemy now.

  “I brought two brothers back with me,” Carly said. “They came along to protect me. Carlo, I’m just going to give it to you straight. They were part of that bunch that attacked us a few weeks ago. The crossbow guys at the front entrance, remember? They remember you, and it turns out they were from Lockworth. But they’re good people. Nick’s right. We want their kind here. I wanted to tell you who they were before you recognized them and brought them up on charges. Or whatever you would have done.”

  ~~~

  As expected, Carlo and many of the Sec Forces remembered Con and Dex Bailey. It didn’t take long before old grudges were forgotten and handshakes of partnership were exchanged. While that was going on, Carly was down at the lake supervising the preparation of the vehicles that would take the quickly-assembled team back to Lockworth. In all they would send six vans, loaded with weapons and Sec Forces, and a twenty-four foot U-Haul truck. Ordinarily they’d have taken one of the tractor trailers, but there wasn’t enough diesel fuel on hand. Instead they’d have to make due with the U-Haul truck to carry the bulk of the refugees back to Tabernacle. When Carlo said they could punch a few air holes in the sides and roof, the despondent Carly actually smiled, not knowing if he was serious or not.

  It became tiresome for her to fight off the sympathy, as touching as it was. All she wanted to do was work, stay busy, and contribute, even if the others thought her callous. It was better than thinking about her father and how he’d died. There’d be time for that later.

  Since gasoline supplies were running low, a strategy was devised. This expedition hadn’t been in the plans when fuel had been rationed out and set aside for winter. The Committee steadfastly refused to take fuel away from the camp to support the rescue mission, as it was now being called. Enough gas was allotted to fill up the big truck for the round trip, but the vans were not fully fueled. Their crews were going to have to live off the land when it came to fuel, siphoning what they could find in the tanks of abandoned vehicles on the way.

  “Are you coming with us?” Carly asked Carlo later that night after briefing him on the readiness of the vehicles.

  “No, I’m not going,” he replied. “We’ll be thin on defense here until I
get my fighters back. Grover wants me here to be in charge of what we still have. And I don’t think you should go, either, Carly. We hadn’t planned for that. We need to get a couple more vans up and running again, now that they’re taking all the working ones to Lockworth. Nobody else can do it. We need you here.” He paused. “It’s up to you, though, as far as I’m concerned. You’ve earned the right to make your own decision.”

  “We’ll see,” Carly said. “I could live without going. The Bailey Brothers can lead the way back better than I can, anyway.” She wiped her greasy hands with a rag. “The more I think about it, the better staying here sounds. I’m not really up for going back. I’m not right yet.”

  “You made a good call on the Bailey Brothers. They’re a couple of real cool cats,” Carlo said. “The kind of men I need. If there are more of them where they came from, we’ll be in much better shape after this.”

  “They’re the best of the bunch,” Carly said. “But plenty of the rest will make good soldiers once they get some food in ‘em.”

  “I already went over the maps with the brothers,” Carlo said. “We decided to come at the town from the south this time. That way we won’t have to break through whatever the enemy has cooking on the north end of the place, where you saw them. What do you think? It’s a different route, and a few extra miles,” he pointed out.

  “I’m not good at that,” Carly said. “You are. If the Bailey Brothers agree, then so do I.”

  Twenty-three

  Until he saw the look on Dewey’s face, Nick wasn’t sure he realized the implication of the sight of the vans in the square. In fact, it turned out that Dewey understood so well that he led the way down the side aisle of the church, fully aware of what the discovery meant. It was moments like this when Nick realized there was a lot more to Henry Bishop than meets the eye.

  Unfortunately for Dewey, being out in front meant being surprised by two men who must have been investigating the open door. One belted Dewey in the chest, knocking him backwards into the brick exterior of the church. Even before Nick and Dwayne were outside, Dewey had rebounded and was pummeling the man wildly with his fists, which seemed to rain down from everywhere. Angry, afraid and unforgiving about what they’d seen in the square, both Dwayne and Nick raised their rifles.

  The man who’d come there with Dewey’s opponent had the same idea, a split second earlier, and was already taking aim with a tiny pistol at Dewey. The ping of low-caliber gunfire filled the air. Dewey cried out in pain and grabbed at his rib cage before doubling over. That made for clear shooting, at least. Dwayne and Nick took advantage, savagely dropping both men at close range. Clearly neither man had expected to come up against any serious threat in Lockworth, and neither was prepared for what they’d just encountered.

  Dewey stayed on his feet after being shot, but was clearly in intense pain. It didn’t matter. He was going to have to move, and fast. They all did. Surely somebody had heard the shots and was already on their way over.

  “Can you run?” Nick asked him. Dwayne was already down the church steps, looking around frantically for the best escape route.

  Dewey nodded, his teeth gritted. Nick put his arm around Dewey’s waist and helped him down the steps. “I got it now,” Dewey grunted. When Nick readied his rifle before running to catch up with Dwayne, Dewey did the same, much to Nick’s surprise. Nick found that he was fighting hysteria, knowing that armed men could appear at any moment from any direction, and they would shoot to kill. Why not? He and Dwayne had done just that, and with success.

  Dewey emitted a low, steady growl, but seemed to have no problem keeping up with them. He lurched along with one bloody hand pinned against the wound and his gun arm working back and forth like a piston. Dwayne looked back to make sure his partners were still with him, and then ducked into an alley behind a restaurant. He waited next to a green dumpster until Nick and Dewey caught up.

  “You still okay, Dewey?” Nick asked. Dewey looked at him blankly before bending over and vomiting on Dwayne’s boots. At least there’s no blood in it, Nick thought after a quick inspection. “We better move. You know where we’re going?” he asked Dwayne.

  “That way!” Dwayne answered, pointing away from the church they’d just exited. “That’s all I know!”

  As if on cue, gunfire and the shouts of angry men erupted. They must have found the bodies, Nick thought. “Let’s go!” he yelled, but Dwayne was already on the move. He and Dewey followed him through the alley and onto the next street. They ran along the sidewalk until taking a jag between two houses and disappearing. By following this pattern they were able to maintain their distance while staying out of sight. The shouting behind them was a constant reminder to keep moving. They weren’t losing ground, but they weren’t gaining any, either.

  “Don’t wait for me!” Nick yelled. He went down on one knee, aimed his rifle at the alley they’d just come through, and waited. As soon as men appeared, he emptied his magazine at them before turning and sprinting after Dwayne and Dewey. He doubted that he’d hit anybody, but at least he’d given them something to think about. Now they knew for sure that things had changed in Lockworth, and they weren’t the only ones with guns anymore.

  Dwayne seemed to have a plan, and Nick was okay with that. They continued on their lighting bolt-shaped route, running along streets and ducking between buildings. A few minutes after his first volley had depleted his ammunition, Nick swapped rifles with Dewey and unleashed another mag’s worth of rounds at their pursuers, some of whom had found a short cut and appeared suddenly on the left flank.

  The next time he caught up, Nick knew they were close to the safety of heavily-fortified Savoy Street. They’d successfully outrun the mob chasing them, but now the greatest worry was that they’d be mistaken by the sentries as invaders. A burst of speed drew him past Dewey. Completely exhausted, he spoke between ragged gulps of air. “When we get close,” he gasped to Dwayne, “we better sling our guns over our backs!”

  “So we don’t get shot?” Dwayne asked, his breath equally labored. “Gotcha.” When Dewey reached them, Nick simply took his rifle away without explaining why. They ran the rest of the way with their hands in the air, except for Dewey who now had both hands on his mid-section and had slowed markedly. Nick knew they were safe when a man leaned out from behind a chimney to gape at them, his rifle pointed casually down at the roof he was perched on. They’d been seen and recognized. Now all they had to do was push on another hundred yards until they’d reached the safe haven that was within their sights.

  ~~~

  “It’s starting!” Nick announced simply, after he and Dwayne were ushered to where Mark and Jim were conferring at the center of the block on Savoy Street. “The war is on! They caught us watching!”

  “We already wasted two of ‘em!” Dwayne said. “But they’re right behind us!”

  “How many of them were there?” Jim asked.

  “Thirty, maybe,” Nick said. “Thirty-five at the most. Only about seven or eight were chasing us. Wait, did we lose Dewey?” He said suddenly, continuing to give voice to his stream of consciousness. “He got shot.”

  Nick hurriedly retraced his steps behind the houses on the north side of Savoy. Dewey was fifty yards out, collapsed to a knee behind a shed, his arms hugging his torso. Three pursuers were close by, but didn’t realize Dewey was there. Panic engulfed Nick, angry at himself for once again shedding his weapon prematurely. He waved at Dewey to get away as he ran to him, not knowing what he’d do if he somehow got there first. But just before the attackers discovered Dewey, a cacophony of gunfire exploded from behind him. The attackers, obviously surprised that anybody on Savoy Street had any weaponry more sophisticated than a slingshot, instantly dove to the ground and fell back.

  Nick turned and saw Dwayne and Linda bearing down with their rifles, looking for another shot. John showed up just as the attackers were returning fire to cover their retreat. Savoy Street had won its first firefight against a bewildered opponent
who hadn’t expected a counterpunch.

  Nick ran to Dewey, who was now on his side and moaning in pain. With a sinking feeling, Nick couldn’t remember seeing any medical supplies in the van, a horrible oversight in the planning of the mission. Dewey’s hands, both of which were pressed over his rib cage, were slick and red with blood. He looked up at Nick, gnashing his teeth and breathing hard. His pale face registered a mix of pain and fear.

  “You’re good, man,” Nick said as he kneeled and put an arm around his shoulder. “We got you now.”

  “It, like, hurts way worse than last time,” Dewey groaned.

  “That’s just because it wasn’t in the leg this time,” Nick improvised. He was far more worried than he showed. Dewey’s gray sweatshirt and even his denim jacket were already soaked with blood. Regardless of the severity of the wound, they had to stop the bleeding long enough to get him back to Tabernacle, or he wasn’t going to make it.

  Several Savoy residents, including Christie Moon herself, were there now. Four of them carefully picked up Dewey, all six-and-a-half feet of him, and carried him away. Dewey cried out in pain as he was twisted and jostled, but he didn’t fight his rescuers.

  Nick ran back to Jim and John. They’d taken cover and were watching the beginnings of a second gun fight at the end of the block where the bulk of the invading force was beginning to gather. “Did we bring any medical supplies?” Nick demanded.

  John shook his head. “That was left for the Sec Forces,” he said. “They were bringing a full medical kit. But we all know they got cancelled.” He shook his head sadly. “I never thought of it.”

  “They sold us out,” Nick said bitterly. “Well, we have to do something. Otherwise he’s not gonna’ make it.”

  “Where is he now?” Jim asked.