Apocalypse Law 2

by John Grit

  “Good,” Nate said. “Once you’re a-ways into the woods, there will be no big hurry. Brian will get everyone to the bunker.”

  Twenty minutes later, everything on the porch had been taken into the woods. Nate and Ben spread the tarpaulin over the cache and sprinkled it with leaves and sticks for camouflage. Despite their efforts, anyone who happened to walk up on the cache could not help but see it.

  Everyone stood on the porch with their packs on, ready to go. Only Tommy, Carrie, and Caroline were not armed. The house still needed to be locked up, but everyone knew that would only slow the raiders down.

  Nate headed for the Cat, stopping just long enough to put his left hand on Brian’s shoulder. “There’s no time for goodbyes. Keep your head straight and thinking, help Ben take care of everyone, and we’ll all be back together in a couple days.”

  Brian swallowed. “I will.”

  Chapter 6

  Sam hung his pack on the back of the Cat and stepped up into the driver’s seat. Deni and Nate held on to catch a ride.

  When they got to the road, Nate yelled, “Stop here.” He checked if anyone was coming and jumped down.

  Deni did the same on the left side.

  Nate looked up at Sam. “You two keep watch while I operate this thing.”

  Sam jumped down and got behind a tree, keeping his rifle trained down the road.

  “What are you going to do?” Deni asked, raising her voice above the engine.

  “Block the driveway.” Nate turned the Cat around, lowered its blade, and pushed dirt up, digging into the driveway at the same time. He backed up and started over again, repeating five times until he had a six-foot deep trench on his side and a six-foot high mound of dirt across the driveway. Large pine trees lined the road and denied passage on both sides of the mound. A motorcycle might get between the trees, but no four-wheeled vehicles could pass. If anyone wanted down the drive, they would have to walk.

  “Hop on,” Nate yelled. “I’m driving. Keep your eyes open.”

  Deni climbed up. “Another change of plans?”

  Nate waited until Sam was on. “We may not have time to screw around. We’re heading for the bridge as fast as this thing will go.”

  She blanched, but said nothing.

  Sam nodded and smiled. “Hell yes! We’ve got to get there before they do, or we’re in trouble.”

  Deni added, “It’s worth the gamble. Floor this thing.”

  Nate raised the blade until he could just see over it, wanting it in front to stop bullets. He had the Cat topped out, heading south, in less than thirty seconds.

  ~~~~

  Brian checked the last shutter, making sure they were all bolted. “You guys wear the best walking shoes you have. It’s rough country at Mel’s place.” He yelled loud enough everyone could hear out on the porch.

  Cindy laughed. “You must think we have a choice of shoes. All I have is one worn-out pair of sneakers.”

  Ben looked down the driveway as if he expected trouble to arrive at any moment. “Let’s hit the road, Brian.”

  Brian checked the back door locks and slid a steel bar across it through two brackets. “Mr. Neely, get them into the woods; we’re going now.” He had his .22 pistol strapped on and lever-action rifle slung on the left side of his backpack, his shotgun in his right hand.

  “That’s a lot of iron you’re carrying, and call me Ben.”

  Brian smiled as he locked the front door. “Better not. Dad won’t like it.”

  “He’s not here. What about this bunker, and who’s Mel?”

  “A neighbor and a friend,” Brian said. “We haven’t seen him in nearly a year. Probably the sickness got him, or bullets. He was a survivalist nut, but a good friend. He had a lot of food and stuff stored in a cave. It’s not far from his bunker. Anyway, we can stay in there a long time. The bunker’s got a well and hand pump and a toilet and freeze-dried food, so we don’t even have to go outside. We can get more out of the cave if we need it, but Dad and the others should be back before then.”

  “Why didn’t you and your father tell us about all this before?” Ben kept checking the driveway for trouble.

  Brian hesitated, thinking. “Well, at first we wanted to wait until we were sure we could trust you. Then the subject never came up. Mel said we could use whatever we needed, but Dad felt that we should do our best to provide for ourselves in case Mel showed up. It wouldn’t be right if he fought his way back here, thinking if he just made it home he would be okay, only to find out we had used all of his supplies.”

  Ben nodded. “That sounds like something your father would say.”

  “Also,” Brian added, “he wanted to leave Mel’s stuff in reserve for when we really need it, like if our crops fail. He always told me we should raise our own food on the farm because Mel’s stuff will only last so long anyway.”

  “Won’t it get old?” Ben asked.

  “Nah. That freeze-dried stuff will last decades.”

  Ben seemed surprised. “No kidding?”

  Martha interrupted. “We’re ready. Let’s go.”

  Brian took a last look around outside the house and barn. Their cow munched peacefully on grass in the pasture. He pulled a compass out from under his shirt where it hung on a string from his neck and headed into the woods. Ben stayed back ten yards to guard their rear.

  ~~~~

  Nate had the Caterpillar bulldozer in high gear, and its engine roaring. Still, their progress seemed agonizingly slow. They found the ride smoother than expected, considering the poor condition of the clay road. Summer rains had washed deep gullies across it, and two creeks had overflowed two months back during a tropical storm that dumped torrents into north Florida, cutting ravines deep enough Nate was forced to slow when traversing them. The Cat climbed out of them with little trouble. Water levels in every creek in the area were still high. There had been some argument over whether it was a full-fledged hurricane or just a tropical storm at the time. The Neelys were from the North and had never been through a real hurricane like Nate and Brian had. Normally, the Weather Service would have settled the argument before it started, but there was no government left, as near as they could tell. Certainly, their radio gave no hint of one. Nate insisted there was a government still in Washington, even if you could not prove it from their farm.

  Nate stopped after crossing a washed-out ravine and had the others jump off while he cut the gully deeper and pushed dirt into a long berm all the way across the road just behind the ravine, leaving it impassible.

  “It will slow them down at least,” he said.

  They took off again and were soon going at top speed.

  Sam’s face revealed little concern. He looked down the road up ahead and occasionally turned to look behind them, but he did not watch the tree line on his side as carefully as Nate thought he should. Nate wondered if he understood just how easily he could be shot off that dozer by anyone hiding in the woods.

  Deni’s eyes were hawkish, constantly searching the woods on her side of the road. Nervous tension kept her face taut. Nate knew the look well; he had seen it on many soldiers’ faces, but never on a woman’s. Women had not fought with his Ranger teams. It made her look ten years older. He nodded to himself. She knows the danger. Either Sam does not give a damn anymore, or he does not realize our situation. He had an idea Sam did not give a damn about his own life, but did feel obligated to do his part.

  They passed a bend in the road that Nate recognized, and he knew they were making good time. What would have taken all day had taken little more than an hour, not counting time spent on the roadblocks. So far, it appeared their gamble paid off.

  “We got about a mile to the bridge,” he yelled above the engine’s roar.

  Another turn, sharper this time, and they were heading down a slope into wetter land.

  Deni yelled, “People down there!”

  Nate eased the throttle back and slowed to a stop. He saw half a dozen motorbikes parked on the bridge. As many yo
ung men stood watching.

  “Get on the tracks and squat down so the blade will protect you,” Nate said. He estimated the range before getting out of the seat: six hundred yards.

  Bullets pinged off the dozer’s blade.

  “We got to get closer,” Sam yelled.

  Nate jumped down and lay beside the right track so he could shoot from prone under the blade. “You two are safe. Just stay where you are.”

  Sam was incredulous. “They’re shooting at us, God damn it!”

  Deni fired two deliberate rounds over the top of the blade. “Stay calm, Sam.”

  By now, Nate was in a tight shooting sling and in his natural point of aim. He had already adjusted his back sight for range and wind. His first shot took a man’s heart out. He aimed at another man, who fired at the Cat and missed completely. He, too, fell to Nate’s shot.

  Deni managed to hit a motorcycle, and then put a man down.

  Nate fired again, and another man fell.

  Fewer bullets hit the blade and Sam began to fire back also, but his rifle, with its open sights and short-range caliber, was not up to the job. By aiming more feet high than he could hazard a guess to put a number on, he managed to hit a rail on the right side of the bridge, causing a man nearby to stand and give Nate an easier target.

  Nate took advantage of the opportunity and killed him.

  The last man ran to a bike and got it cranked before Nate put a bullet through his chest.

  The woods continued to echo with gunfire for a few seconds, then silence but for Sam’s heavy breathing. “They just started shooting for no reason,” Sam said. He gulped air.

  Nate still lay on the yellow dirt road. “Scouts for their main raiding party. They were supposed to secure the bridge until the others got there.”

  “They failed,” Deni said.

  “I didn’t think anyone could hit anything that far off.” Sam’s eyes were focused on the bridge. “Must be a quarter-mile.”

  “No,” Nate said, “quarter-mile is four hundred-fifty yards. It’s six hundred.”

  “How do you know just by looking?” Sam asked.

  “Long practice. If my range estimate were off fifty yards, I would have shot over or under them at that distance. My rifle sights don’t lie. Those on the bridge are dead.”

  Deni clicked the safety on her rifle. “The main bunch will be coming anytime. We better move.”

  “Sam, you drive,” Nate said.

  “Okay, but…” He sat in the seat. “How do we know there’s not more in the woods?”

  Deni answered, “Six motorbikes, six men.”

  Sam put the Cat in gear. “They could have ridden double.” He raced the engine and let the clutch out. The dozer lurched and headed for the bridge.

  Deni smiled, but said nothing.

  Nate kept his eyes working the tree line on both sides of the road. “When we get there, you stay in the Cat. Deni will keep watch while I hook the cable and chain up.”

  When they were close, Sam slowed to a stop off to the right side a little so Nate could stretch the cable to the nearest pillar.

  The old wood bridge had seen better days, and Nate hoped taking a pillar out on each side would bring down a twenty-foot section. He slung the cable end with its hook around a two-foot support pole and caught it as it swung back to him. He hooked a loop and pulled it tight.

  As Nate had expected, the cable was not long enough, so he got the heavy chain and hooked the cable to it. Pulling it tight, he had just enough length to wrap it around a brace behind the dozer’s blade. He looked up at Sam. “Keep as low as you can in the seat in case the cable breaks. It will whiplash back and cut you in two.”

  Sam nodded and waited for Nate to run back into a stand of trees for protection. Deni was already in cover on the far side, watching the other end of the bridge.

  Backing up slowly stretched the chain and cable tight. The loop end around the pillar began to cut into wood, and their end of the bridge groaned. The Cat’s tracks slipped a slight amount in the clay and limestone of the road until the pole came loose from heavy beams it was bolted to. Before Sam could react, he had pulled the pole several feet from the bridge. The cable slipped off the top end and came whistling back, harmlessly lashing off to the side of the Cat and throwing dust ten feet into the air.

  Nate came running. “Great! Might as well keep working on this side. We’ll take out the last long pillar. That should collapse the section on our side and leave them with only a footbridge. If we have time, we’ll take out the left side and leave them with nothing.” He snatched up the cable end and ran back onto the bridge.

  A low rumble warned Nate that Harleys would be bringing trouble across the bridge in minutes. He scrambled to drag the heavy chain and cable, and then lay on his stomach to reach around and swing the cable end with its hook so he could loop it around the next support post. He was not able to catch the hook on his first try. He gave it more slack and slung the cable end around with more force, catching it as it whipped around and slammed into his hand.

  Shots echoed in the river valley.

  A group of men rode up on motorbikes, stopping on the other end of the bridge. A few fired before they got off the bikes. Four-wheeled vehicles followed close behind. Men shot at them from the back of flatbed trucks, shooting over the top of the cab. More jumped out of pickups, shooting as soon as their feet hit the ground.

  Deni cut loose with her AR-15, emptying what was left of her thirty-round magazine.

  Nate pushed up from the bridge planks and ran for the tree line on his side. “Rip it out,” he yelled over his shoulder.

  Sam backed the Cat, leaning over to keep low. This time he hurried it. The chain and cable snapped tight. The pole jerked loose and moved several feet from the beams it supported, leaning at a fifteen-degree angle. The cable set the wood to smoking as it pulled tighter and slid up the pole at the same time. Finally, it slipped off the end, flew back, and slapped the roof over Sam, its end whipping around the back end and just missing him.

  “Son of a bitch!” Sam stared at the two-inch deep, eight-inch long bend in thick steel just above where his head would have been if he had not leaned down and to the left as much as possible.

  Nate and Deni fired into a gathering crowd of vehicles and men on foot. Gunfire from both ends of the bridge roared, making it impossible for Sam to hear Nate yelling for him to back down the road. Nate was too busy aiming and firing to worry about it at the moment.

  Instead of backing away, Sam put the Cat in neutral and fired into the gang with his 30/30. He left the blade down, exposing him to gunfire.

  One look at the bridge told Nate they were in trouble. It sagged on their side, but had not collapsed and fallen into the river. More support posts needed to be taken out. He ran for the cable.

  Sam saw and brought the Cat closer to give Nate enough slack to work with. He stretched to look over the top of the blade, exposing more of himself as bullets hit all around. Sparks flew off steel when a bullet ricocheted off a roof post near Sam’s face, leaving him temporarily blind. He rubbed his right eye.

  Deni continued to provide suppressive fire.

  Crimson mist sprayed the Cat’s roof, and Sam’s head whipped back, then forward. His body went limp and left foot slid off the clutch pedal. The Cat lurched, the engine nearly died, then caught itself, and the dozer started to creep forward.

  When the Cat reached the bridge, Nate felt vibration coming from the wooden planks he lay on. Turning to look, his eyes grew wide and he rolled off the edge of the bridge just as the Cat’s right track was about to crush his feet. Landing in brush, he continued to roll down the slope and stopped at the river’s edge. He jumped up and ran for the cover of a stand of cypress trees as bullets whistled by. Behind him, he heard timber splintering and snapping. By the time he was able to look, the bridge had collapsed and the Cat was lying on its side, half submerged in the river. He could not see Sam. Perhaps he was under the Cat.

  Nate’s bloo
d boiled. Okay, you bastards, you want to cross? How high of a price are you willing to pay? Nate wished he had the duffel of extra magazines, now lying in the river with Sam and the Cat. He wanted to put that ammo to good use.

  Deni kept up a steady rate of fire, taking a deadly toll.

  Nate crawled upslope through trees and brush until he could turn back to the road in safety. A lull in the shooting allowed him to hear Deni yelling, asking about Sam. He had no time to answer. After slamming a fresh magazine home, he killed two more who were careless in their choice of cover.

  The shooting stopped. Someone yelled, “Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?”

  You shot first, you son of a bitch. Nate searched for the one yelling.

  “Why don’t you assholes just leave while you’re still alive?” The man stood. “You’re outnumbered.”

  Deni stopped firing.

  Nate saw the man who was talking when he stood from behind a bush. He took careful aim and put a bullet through the man’s chest. I haven’t left yet because I’m not through killing, and this is a damn good place for it

  Deni found more targets and began to fire at her steady pace.

  Nate knew they both were going to run out of ammo at the rate they were firing. They had to make their ammo last until nightfall so he could sneak down to the Cat and retrieve that duffel bag. By then, some of them would already be across on their side. He knew, at that moment, men were running both up- and downriver so they could swim across, out of Deni’s and his sight. It was only a matter of time before the tables would turn and they would be in serious trouble. However, there is no better place between here and the farm to slow them down. He killed another one and relocated farther back.

  Another man yelled, “Why don’t you want to talk? What did we ever do to you?”

  Nate detected a hint of desperation, or perhaps exasperation, in his voice. They’re in a hurry for some reason.

  Deni took Nate’s cue and emptied the man’s head. She was answered with a sustained rain of bullets that sent her ducking behind a log.