by John Grit
Brian waded in the water and grabbed the edge of the tank. He looked down at her. “Please don’t move. We’re almost there now. Maybe you will die anyway in the end, but we’re trying to give you a chance. You’re hurt bad.”
“Okay, okay.” Deni reached up and touched Brian’s hand. “I’m not worth all that. Calm down.”
“Worth what?” Brian asked. “All we have is each other.”
“You and your father have each other.” The sun was up more now, and Deni could see Brian’s face. She looked at Nate and saw the same thing.
“You’re with us now,” Brian said. “Just like Caroline and the rest. Dad and I don’t quit on each other and we don’t quit on our friends.”
“Damn,” Deni said, “I thought they broke the mold a couple generations back. Except maybe for a few in the military, like my father.”
“What?” Brian asked.
“You and your dad, that’s what.”
“We’ve got to go,” Nate said.
Brian and Caroline started to get in the water tank.
Nate spoke up. “Brian, put your pack on and stay with me.”
Brian did what he was told in silence.
“The less water needed to float that thing, the better,” Nate said. “Your weight will make it sink deeper.”
Brian nodded.
Still wet with dew, the leaves carpeting the woods made little noise as Nate and Brian eased along the creek’s edge. Caroline could not pole the water tank more than one half-mile an hour, and that suited Nate. The slower they stalked through the woods, the quieter they would be.
Things had grown steadily worse, and now there were killers close to the bunker. Nate wondered if they had not already found it. If they had, the bunker could be under siege. Why did they come out here? Had those at the bridge known about the bunker and Mel’s cache all along?
Nate tried to keep his mind on detecting danger in the woods, but his thoughts kept racing ahead, finding new dangers waiting in the shadows of tomorrow.
Chapter 22
The creek grew more narrow and shallow the last half-mile. Caroline was forced to work harder to seek out a clear path around submerged logs, going around some, scraping over others.
Nate finally motioned for her to head for the creek bank when she got stuck on a log for five minutes.
Close to noon already, and they had to carry Deni in the water tank through the jungle of a Southern swamp. Nate decided it best to leave her at the creek with Caroline while he and Brian checked out the route to the bunker.
Deni did not like Nate’s plan. “I can walk, damn it.”
“We’ve been through that.” Nate and Brian left Deni and Caroline by the creek. They headed upslope, out of the swamp, watching every direction for trouble.
Nate found himself standing more than walking. He examined every inch of the wall of green before him, seeking out any sign of trouble. Knowing it was impossible to see a whole man in thick woods, he searched for the slightest movement. Assuming a flicker of movement in brush was just a squirrel’s tail or the sound of something grating against a palmetto frond, a deer slinking off, could get them killed. The more open areas, usually no more than a few feet wide, received a quick scan; it was the thick brush and darkest of shade that Nate’s eyes worked the hardest to penetrate. He knew few men were foolish enough to stand in the open, painted by sunlight.
Nate could feel it. Men were hunting him. He had been through similar situations many times when in the Army, but then he'd been with a trained team. They'd been men he respected, and many were friends he would rather die for than let down. One mistake, one careless second, and a friend could die. Now he had not a team of trained Rangers, but his thirteen-year-old son with him. God, did he wish Brian was somewhere safe.
The sun had risen to its zenith, and Nate believed they were no more than a quarter-mile from the bunker. His mind was on how to make sure no one was waiting in ambush close by the bunker itself when he turned and saw Brian squatting, looking under brush, rifle shouldered.
Nate stepped behind a tree to put it between him and the direction Brian was looking. He got down and could see two legs. The pants were caked with mud to the knees. The legs stepped around and faced away, more toward the creek. He hasn’t seen us yet.
A few seconds passed before Brian looked Nate’s way. As soon as he did, Nate hand-signaled for him to stay still. Brian nodded.
The man must have sensed something. He turned in a blur of motion. Too late. Nate struck him with the butt of his KA-BAR knife, full force. He risked killing him. Better that than not hit him hard enough to put him out and he alarm anyone nearby.
In thirty seconds, Nate had the man tied and gagged. He found a Springfield M1911 .45 ACP on the man. Nate took it and the holster. The rifle was a bolt-action in 30/06 caliber with a telescopic sight. Nate took all the man’s ammunition and stuffed it in his pack with the pistol, tying the rounds in a dirty sock so they could not rattle. He then tied the rifle outside the pack. There were two spare magazines for the pistol. He tried to stuff them in a left pants pocket, but found it too full of .44 magnum rounds. The magazines went into a side pocket on his pack.
Nate took other items, including a six-inch expensive custom-made Randall knife. All went in his pack. The Randall had an inscription on the blade. He knew it well. The knife had been his gift from friends when he'd left the Army.
Nate motioned for Brian to come to him.
Brian made his way silently across the thirty-five yards. He stood there looking at the man on the ground. “What are you going to do with him?” Brian whispered.
“Ask questions,” Nate said. “Keep your eyes and ears open.”
Brian nodded and resumed scanning the woods around them.
Nate looked around until he found a slough partially filled with black water. He dragged the man slowly, so as not to make noise, and pushed his face in the water. When he lifted it, the man woke up. His coughs were muffled by the wet gag.
Nate checked to see if Brian was watching. He was looking the other way. Nate kicked the man in the stomach.
Brian jerked his head around when the man grunted.
Nate signaled for Brian to go back to keeping watch.
Nate looked down on him with a look calculated to put the fear of death in the man. “There is no need to lie. I found items on you that came from my home. You’re a thief and a murderer.” Nate held the carbine on him while he pulled the gag off.
“I…” The man spit mud out of his mouth. “…got that stuff off a dead man. By the time we got to the farm, nothing was left to steal.” He looked up at Nate. “What do you want?” He spit again.
“The truth. Did you kill the man you say you got my stuff off of?”
“No. He must have been killed by that chopper attack. We were hit, too. They really tore us up. Did more damage than your gang.”
“That was my doing,” Nate said. “You assholes screwed with the wrong farmer. I wasn’t always a farmer, and I’ve still got friends and family in the military.”
The man had an incredulous smile on his face. “Bullshit. The military doesn’t work that way. They don’t do favors for vets. A general maybe. You don’t look old enough to have been a general.”
Nate kicked him in the stomach again. This time Brian saw it.
“The military does not normally slaughter American civilians on a county road with airstrikes either. But this isn’t normal times.” Nate gave the man a close-up look at the sharp edge of his knife. “The government may be weak at the moment, but it’s not dead. They’ve had enough of vultures like your bunch preying on people. And I’ve had enough.” Nate put his knife to the man’s throat. “You bastards killed my friends. You and the other bunch both. The next sentence that comes out of your mouth determines if you live or die.”
“What do you want?”
Nate slid his knife across the man’s neck, drawing blood. He wanted him to know he was not bluffing. “What you are doing ou
t here in the woods? Why didn’t your band of trash go on down the road?”
The man’s wide-open eyes turned to slits. “You didn’t know? We all thought you must’ve known. Why else would you have been keeping us stopped at the bridge?”
“That’s two questions, but there’s not a single answer in those words.” Nate bent down. “I thought we had an understanding. You do not seem to get that I’ve had enough.”
The man saw Nate’s knife coming. His eyes rounded, but he had no time to scream before Nate put a hand over his mouth.
Just as the blade entered flesh, Nate heard a gasp. He looked over and saw Brian’s pale face. Nate pulled the knife out of the man’s shoulder. “We’re both running out of time. I’m not going to play with you any longer.” He took his hand off the man’s mouth so he could speak. “Answer my question.”
The man could barely talk. His eyes were wild with fear and pain. “They caught up with us because of you stopping us at the bridge and then the road. We were at one of your roadblocks when they came.” The man coughed. “We had to leave our trucks and run for it.”
“Who caught up with you, the military?”
The man looked puzzled. “No. The vigilantes. They’ve been chasing us since we hit a town a couple weeks back.” He looked up at Nate. “They ain’t playing. We heard they intend to clean this county of what they call brigands. Some of the guys stayed back and thought they would ambush them. We never saw but three of them again. From what they said, the vigilantes must have gotten into a National Guard armory and they took heavy weapons. They even have mortars and grenade launchers. They have a couple armored trucks, too.”
“So you bastards scattered and ran into the woods?”
The man nodded. “There are hundreds of them. They have some deputies and war vets leading them.”
Nate looked at him with hate in his eyes. “And a lot of pissed off citizens. What do you expect when you go animal? You idiots could have gone to work and provided for yourselves instead of murdering, raping, and stealing. Trash like you was sucking America dry before the plague. Now you are continuing on with your same old ways.”
“We have to eat to live.” The man looked down at the rope around his ankles.
“You’re not going to live long with a belly full of bullets.” Nate motioned for Brian to come closer. “How many more of your trash are in this area?”
Then man shrugged. “I haven’t seen anyone in hours. I tried to separate from the others on purpose so the vigilantes would go after them and give me a better chance to get away.”
Nate noticed for the first time the man did not even have a canteen or backpack with him. He must have taken off fast.
Brian only glanced at the man and then kept looking around for trouble. “Do you believe him?” he asked his father.
“We’ll see,” Nate said. “Keep your eyes and ears working. There’s bound to be more of them around.”
“What do we do now?” Brian asked.
“What we don’t do is talk about that in front of him.” Nate untied the rope binding the man’s ankles. "Get up and start walking.” He pointed back toward Caroline and Deni. “That way.”
The man had trouble getting up with his hands tied behind his back, but managed. “What do you want with me? Let me go.”
Nate slipped the gag back over his mouth. “Walk.”
They reached the creek a mile upstream from Deni and Caroline. Nate led them to the east a little on purpose.
Brian stood by his father, constantly searching the woods.
Nate tapped him on the shoulder. “You go on ahead, slow, and careful. I’ll catch up with you before you get to the women.”
“You going to let him go?” Brian’s eyes burned into Nate.
Nate looked out into the woods, away from his innocent son’s eyes. “Go on now. I’ll catch up.”
Brian faded slowly into the wall of green.
The man tried to run. Nate tripped him and he fell on his face in the mud.
Yeah, you know, don’t you? Nate hit him on the back of his head as hard as he could with the butt of his knife handle. While the man lay there out cold, perhaps dead, Nate cut his throat. He untied the man’s hands and put the rope in a side pocket of his pack. Then he went to the creek and washed the blood off his knife and hand. He sighed, looked around, stood, and headed for Brian.
Brian’s eyes told Nate he knew. They said nothing. Nate walked past him and Brian followed.
Twenty minutes later, Nate signaled for Brian to come closer.
Brian stood beside his father, looking into the woods, pretending to be watching for danger.
Nate reached into a shirt pocket and pulled out a cloth pouch he had taken off the man. He tapped Brian on the shoulder.
Brian looked up at him.
Nate opened the pouch and poured out bloody gold teeth and wedding bands onto his hand for Brian to see. He picked out several thin rings that came off little girls, held them up, and then dropped them into the leaf litter of the swamp. Then he turned his hand over, let the rest rain down, and join the little rings.
“He was too close to the bunker,” Nate said. “He may have seen it. I couldn’t take the risk he would lead more killers to us.”
Brian swallowed. “I know. He was different from Synthia. You took the chance on her bringing the sickness to us all because she was innocent. That man was not worth the risk.”
Nate stood there looking at his son while his chest rose and fell several times. “If he had not been so close to the bunker, I would have let him go, even though he deserved to die. I’m not a judge and jury, and I don’t want to be, but I will do anything to protect you and the others.”
Brian nodded. “I know.”
They both flinched when the swamp roared with gunfire. It came from downstream.
They took off on a run. When the shooting stopped, Nate slowed to a walk and Brian kept pace behind him, his chest heaving.
Several more shots rang out. This time Nate kept his slow pace, easing through the brush.
Brian wanted to rush ahead, but Nate grabbed him by his pack. “No,” Nate said. “Stay behind me. Keep your head working.”
Another flurry of shots told Nate and Brian they were getting close.
Nate shoved Brian to a four-foot-thick cypress log that disappeared into heavy brush. “Stay here and stay down.”
Brian started to speak.
“Do what I told you.” Nate took off on a run.
After fifty yards, Nate slowed to hunting speed. He had no idea what he was walking into.
A woman’s voice came from out of the wall of green. It sounded more like the roar of a beast, but Nate recognized it as Caroline’s. “Come and get me, you gutless bastards!”
Crashing in nearby brush telegraphed the rush of someone toward Nate. He had the carbine up and ready.
They saw each other at the same time. Caroline slid in the mud, coming to a halt only long enough to recognize Nate. She rushed at him, crossing the twenty yards between them in seconds, and snatched at a spare magazine in a side pocket of his backpack. “They’re coming,” she said. “I’m out of ammo.” She dropped the empty magazine in her carbine in the mud and slammed Nate’s full magazine in.
Nate wanted to ask her about Deni, but two men ran into a narrow opening. He sprayed them with a short burst of full auto fire.
More men were coming at a run. They shot blindly into the brush. Nate jumped for cover behind a wide cypress.
Caroline stood where she was and fired at any movement she saw. In her state of mind, she was as dangerous to Nate as the others.
Nate ran to her and pulled her behind cover. He handed her another magazine. “I want to maneuver around them, but you will have to watch who you shoot.”
“You go after Deni,” Caroline said. “I tried to lead them away from her when I ran out of ammo.”
Nate started to speak. He stopped short when he saw a man come out from behind a tree and aim a rifle at them. T
he man’s head exploded.
Brian continued to shoot at a log near the edge of the creek. Wood flew off with each shot.
Two hands and an M4 came up over the log and sprayed bullets in Brian’s direction.
Brian shot. The hands and carbine disappeared.
Nate saw the man’s hand take Brian’s bullet. He jumped up and rushed the log from the side. The man was still rolling on the ground, holding his hand, when Nate fired a burst into his chest.
Crashing in the brush told Nate that at least two men were running away.
Caroline fired at the sound. She ran after them. Her limp did not slow her.
Nate ran after her with the intention of getting her to come back to Brian with him.
Brian ran downstream.
Nate heard him. God damn it! He turned and took off after Brian.
Running at top speed, Brian exploded out of thick brush into a small clearing. He heard voices and slowed to creep up on them.
There were two men. They had Deni out of the water tank. She was on her back, swinging a four-inch pocketknife to keep them away.
One of the men was pulling the livestock tank toward the water. “We have no time to play with her. Let’s get this thing down to the river and float the hell out of here before they get back and want to fight over who gets a boat ride.”
“It won’t take long,” the other man said. “I’ll just shoot her arm off and take that knife. Then we’ll have some fun.”
They both heard Brian coming, but there was no time to react. Bullets slammed into the man near Deni. The other man jumped into the creek. It was only a foot deep. He dropped his rifle and came up muddy. He threw his hands up. “Don’t shoot!”
Nate yelled, "I’m coming up behind you Brian.”
Brian aimed at the man.
After making sure there was no one else around, Nate fired a short burst into the man as he held his hands up. He slammed a fresh magazine in the carbine and gave Brian a hard look for hesitating to shoot.
Brian ran to Deni. “Did they hurt you?”
“No,” Deni said. “Where is Caroline?”
