Apocalypse Law 4

by John Grit

  Nate kept his speed under twenty miles per hour and thought about recent events. Over the last few months, Nate and his son had found new friends but had also lost nearly all their old friends to violence. The takers were making life hell for those who were already having the worst time of their lives. While dealing with cold-blooded killers, they had also met many good people, but too many of them had been killed by the takers. Something more effective had to be done. Some kind of law had to be put in place and enforced. Nate contemplated the coming of the military and what it may bring. Law and justice? Food and medical supplies? Was it the beginning of the old government coming back or a new government forming? He had only questions and worries. The last time the military showed up, they stayed only a short time and left.

  It wasn’t winter yet, but they had already experienced a couple cold spells recently, and Nate expected another winter of record lows and heavy snowfall like the last three, perhaps even worse. No one knew the reason for the weather change, but they certainly were not suffering from freakishly hot winters, and the summers had been basically normal, but for more frequent and unusually strong tornados. The oft-repeated phrase was, “Global warming my ass!” This day wasn’t all that cold, but those in the truck considered the current temperature a bit too low for comfort. Not wanting the biting wind blowing in, they had the truck windows up. Nate saw Brian looking out of the dirty window on his side. “You checking the weather or looking for danger?”

  “Both,” Brian answered. “Might be a few of that gang left running around.”

  Nate barely recognized his son as the boy he knew before the plague spread around the world, reached into his family’s home, and snatched away his wife and little girl. Before the plague, some thought he was too easy on his children, especially his own father, who died before the plague came. Well, the world has more than made up for that. Brian’s now a fourteen-year-old man, at least in the ways that count.

  Brian turned and looked past Kendell and at his father. “How are those boots Chesty scrounged up for you?”

  “A little tight,” Nate said. “They’ll stretch.”

  Brian looked out his window. “Sorry they’re too small. I told them but they couldn’t find any bigger.”

  “They’re a lot better than what I had. Those old boots were falling apart.” Nate turned onto Main Street and sped up to twenty-five miles per hour.

  A heavily loaded pickup passed them from the opposite direction. The driver blew his horn and waved. Nate waved back. He recognized him has one of the men who helped run a gang out of town that was terrorizing the few remaining residents, but could not place a name to his face. The boys waved, too.

  “Looks like he’s heading for the new place,” Brian said. “Do you think they’ll really be able to start a farm down by that big lake?”

  “If they don’t they’ll starve.” Nate blinked. His vision still blurred, he kept his attention on the street ahead.

  As they passed two cars parked in front of a frame home that appeared to have been built in the thirties, Brian yelled, “Look out!”

  Nate’s first thought was an attack. He punched the gas. The right side of the truck rose several inches and fell, as the front wheel rolled over something in the road.

  “You hit him!” Brian reached to open his door before Nate had the truck stopped. He jumped down when Nate slammed on the brakes. “It’s a little boy,” Brian yelled.

  After pulling on the emergency brake lever, Nate looked around for trouble but saw no one. He opened his door and jumped to the street, his feet carrying him as fast as possible around the front of the truck to the other side, keeping his hand on the truck for balance. He found Brian on his knees, looking under the truck at a little boy about four years old. The boy appeared to be dead. Nate had stopped just before the rear tire rolled over him, but it was too late, the front tire had already done its damage. Blood trickled out of the little boy’s mouth and nostrils.

  Nate dropped to his knees beside Brian and reached for the boy’s wrist. There was no pulse. He carefully pulled the boy out from under the truck and checked for breathing. There was no sign of life. The little boy’s chest was caved in. “I never saw him.” He cradled the child in his arms. His body racked in grief. “I never saw him.” The little boy made him think of Brian when he was four.

  “He ran out from between the two cars.” Brian put his hand on his father’s shoulder when he saw the grief on his face. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Nate sat there and held the little boy in his massive arms, shaking.

  A woman’s scream pierced the air. She exploded from the old house and ran to her son. Nate turned to hand him to her. Instead of taking the boy, she pounded Nate on his head and face. Brian and Kendell pulled her off him. By that time, the stitches closing Nate’s wound were ripped loose and blood ran down his head onto his shoulder. No one noticed the HUMVEE that had pulled up and parked in the street behind them.

  Three soldiers stormed out of the HUMVEE and pointed carbines at Kendell and Brian. One of the men yelled, “On your belly!”

  A sergeant stepped up and appraised the situation. Her eyes widened. She ran to Nate and dropped to her knees. “Nate!”

  Brian ran toward her. “Deni!”

  A soldier stood in his way.

  Deni yelled, “Bring a medical kit. I know these people.”

  Brian held her. “It was an accident. He never saw the little boy when he ran out into the road.”

  Nate sat by the truck staring into space, blood dripping onto his shoulder.

  Kendell stood still and kept his hands up.

  The woman took her son from Nate and cried, “He murdered my baby!”

  Deni didn’t look at her. She saw the pain on Nate’s face, and something else that may have been related to the head wound. “Murdering a child is not in this man.” She and Brian removed the bloody bandage and did their best to stop the bleeding by pressing gauze from the medical kit on it.

  “They have a clinic a couple miles down the road,” Brian said. “There’s a doctor, but little supplies.”

  “We’ll take him there,” Deni said. She and Brian helped Nate up.

  Kendell moved items out of the way and made room for Nate to lie in the back of the truck. A soldier struggled with Nate’s weight and helped the others get him in a comfortable position. He placed a rolled-up sleeping pad under Nate’s head.

  Brian sat beside his father and smeared his face. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Nate looked up at him but said nothing.

  Kendell headed for the cab. “I can drive. Someone should stay here with her.” He motioned toward the grieving mother.

  Deni had a carbine slung on her shoulder. She pulled it off and held it in her hands. “I’m going with them,” she told the soldiers. “You three help her. Try to find some relatives or neighbors to leave her with. I’ll radio you in half an hour.” She had Kendell move over and got behind the wheel. Five minutes later, Kendell pointed at the church that was still being used for a clinic to take care of those wounded in the battle with the gang. Deni pulled into the parking lot.

  Chapter 2

  Doctor Sheila Brant looked up from a patient and saw Deni and Brian helping Nate through the church door. She pointed to a stool. They helped him across the room. While removing the bandage on Nate’s head, she asked, “What happened? Last time I saw him he was in bed and doing fine.”

  Brian steadied his father on the stool. “I guess he should have stayed in bed longer. He seems to be dizzy or something.”

  Doctor Brant examined the wound. “What did he do, fall down? He’s bleeding, and I was about to take the stitches out because the wound had pretty much closed.”

  Deni stayed out of Doctor Brant’s way, but still managed to take a close look at the wound. “When was he shot, Brian?”

  “It’s been two weeks,” Brian answered. “He seemed to be okay until now.”

  “Well,” Deni said, “I’m sure the slap
ping he got from the distraught mother didn’t cause him to be stunned and dazed like he is. It must be the wound.”

  “What mother?” Doctor Brant asked. “Never mind. Did she hit him with anything besides her hands?”

  “No.” Brian kept his worried eyes on his father. “She mostly just slapped him. I think he was already dizzy.”

  Doctor Brant cleaned the wound and put in more stitches. “All we can do is keep him in bed and give him more time to heal. It’s very difficult to understand what’s going on in his head without proper equipment.”

  By the time Doctor Brant finished with the new bandage, Nate became more alert. “Thanks. I’m okay now.” His eyes focused on Deni. “It’s good to see you again. How about Caroline?”

  Deni flinched. “She’s alive, but her leg couldn’t be saved.”

  Brian showed no surprise Caroline had lost her leg. The gunshot wound she had suffered was severe. She had proven herself to be of great courage in their fight to save the farm from a large group of raiders. “Is she here?”

  “No.” Deni answered. “She’s still with the National Guard. Your friend Mel has been making sure she’s taken care of. Mel says he’ll get her back to his place as soon as possible.”

  Brian’s face tensed. “But no one’s there. All the others were killed.”

  Deni caught her breath. “No! Even the children?”

  Brian nodded, his face almost as anguished as when it happened. “All of them. They were killed while Dad and I were at Mrs. MacKay’s farm.”

  Kendell walked away with his head down.

  Nate struggled to get up from the stool. Doctor Brant steadied him. “Just sit there until we get a place ready for you lie down.”

  Nate ignored her and used all of his strength to stand. He looked at Deni and held his arms open. Deni stepped forward without hesitation and held him. Nate wrapped his massive arms around her and closed his eyes. “There were a couple times this world almost broke me,” he said. “If not for Brian…”

  Deni blinked tears. “You can’t save them all. Believe me, I know. Death is everywhere. I’ve seen it, from Fort Benning to Miami. Soldiers from other parts of the country have told me it’s the same all over.”

  Nate released her and sat down again before he fell. “So, what is your mission here?”

  Brian brought a chair for Deni. She sat, keeping the M4 carbine in her hands, muzzle pointed at the ceiling. “Captain Mike Donovan should be here soon. I’ve served under him a while now. He’s okay. Seems to be determined to keep the Army as professional as possible under the circumstances. Won’t allow his soldiers to get too far out of line as far as excessive force against civilians goes.”

  Nate knew there must be a reason why Deni was informing him who he could trust among the officers she served under and knew there was another side to what she was telling him. “What about the noncoms?”

  “Most of them are doing the best they can to help and have no interest in taking advantage of any civilians. I have one senior sergeant who’s a pain, but I have yet to catch him doing anything he should be strung up for.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice after checking the church entrance. “It’s the Colonel I serve under I’m worried about. He’s been issuing some strange orders lately, and more than a few of us noncoms are worried he may be losing it.”

  Nate leaned forward. “Strange orders?”

  She started to speak but stopped when four soldiers walked into the church. She stood and snapped to attention, saluting a captain with red hair and a freckled face almost as red.

  The captain was nearly as big as Nate. He returned her salute half-heartedly. “Where are your men, Sergeant?

  Deni stood in a brace. “There was a traffic accident, sir. A small child was killed. I left the men with the distraught mother and brought this civilian here to receive medical care. I was about to radio my men.”

  The captain gave Nate a once-over. “Looked to me like you were doing some fraternizing.”

  “I was getting a situation report from an ex-soldier. His name is Nate Williams, and he should be able to tell you a lot about what’s going on in the area.” She looked at Nate. “Nate, this is Captain Mike Donovan.”

  Nate stood and struggled to keep steady as he extended his hand. When they shook, Capt. Donovan used more force than he expected. Oh, you’re one of those. Nate squeezed harder.

  They stared at each other and cranked up the force until Donovan finally said, “Okay, enough.” He massaged his right hand and smiled. “Sergeant Heath generally refuses to give men the time of day. You must have impressed her.”

  “We’re just friends who have been through a few fights together,” Nate said. His face grew serious. “The people here are hungry. Have you brought any relief supplies?”

  “We’re here to bring some stability – law and order – to the area.”

  Nate considered Donovan’s words. “No food or medicine?”

  “That will come later.” Donovan looked at a small crowd of volunteers that had gathered and the wounded lying on sleeping bags on the floor in the church. “I need to speak to the one in charge here.”

  “I guess that would be me,” Chesty Johnson had just walked in. “I was Town Marshal before the plague hit, and I’ve been kind of carrying on as if we still had a City Hall. The mayor’s dead, and so is all but one member of the city council. Nevertheless, I’m still doing what I can.”

  Nate focused his attention on Deni. “Chesty’s a good man. You can work with him.”

  Donovan glanced at the two of them and read something in their eyes. “Maybe I should put Sergeant Heath in charge of this town and move on to the next one. It seems she’s already developed some trust with the locals.”

  Deni sighed and looked away.

  Donovan noticed her reaction. “Don’t get heated up, Sergeant. I was just joking.”

  “I’m sure she could handle the job,” Nate said. “We had some trouble with a gang, but they left town recently. At the moment, things are quiet around here. What the people need is supplies. Some fuel would be great also.”

  “Hmmm.” Donovan checked his watch. “You can expect some food and medicine within a week, but there’ll not be any fuel for a while. Two tankers are on the way, but it’s for the Army, not civilians.”

  Chesty broke in. “We can certainly get by for a week as far as food goes, but we’re losing sick and injured every day. Our doctors need medicine.”

  “Doctors?” Donovan gave Chesty a dismissive glance. “You’re lucky. Most people I’ve met the last twelve months haven’t seen a medical professional of any kind since the first wave of death swept around the world.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Chesty said, “but we just had a battle with that local gang Nate mentioned and have many wounded. Don’t you have any medical supplies you can spare? We have several children suffering.”

  Donovan raised his face to a tall depiction of Mother Mary on a stained glass window. “Anything I give you’ll not be available for my soldiers, but I’ll see to it you get something for your wounded.”

  “Thank you,” Chesty and Doctor Brant said in unison.

  “Sergeant Heath,” Donovan said, “see to it.”

  “Yes sir.” Deni said.

  Donovan nodded to Chesty. “I need you to fill me in on that troublesome gang you were talking about.”

  Chesty said, “Sure. But they left town.” He cocked his head. “So you’re here more for law and order than relief.”

  “Let’s step outside and we’ll talk about it. I need you to show me around town.” Donovan turned to Deni. “Carry on with the orders I gave you last night, Sergeant.”

  Deni responded, “Yes Sir.” She used her radio to call the soldiers she left with the grieving mother and told them to come to the church.

  Donovan and Chesty left.

  Already tired from standing, Nate sat on the stool. “I wish you had showed up a few weeks ago. Things are quiet around here now.”


  “Better late than never,” Deni said. She surveyed his face. “Of course I wish we had been here months ago.”

  Nate rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. “In a way you’re too late. People here have decided to leave town and move to a lake south of us, so they can farm. They’ve been living on food from a warehouse, but that will not last much longer. The gang had taken possession of another warehouse until a couple weeks ago, but even with that extra food, they need to start farming.”

  Deni looked concerned. “How many have left?”

  Nate shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been out of it the last two weeks, but a considerable number. They’ve been hauling stuff to the lake and plan to take everything useful with them. It will take months to haul it all there, and they’re low on fuel.”

  Doctor Brant spoke up. “I would guess maybe a third have already left town, but that’s just a guess.”

  Nate noticed the concern on Deni’s face. “Is that a problem?”

  Deni raised an eyebrow. “It certainly means my mission will change. We were sent here to stabilize the area and provide protection for the people. Earlier flyovers gave pilots the impression there was a substantial number of survivors in this town, so we were sent here instead of a less populated area. Now you tell me the population is moving. I’m not sure my superiors will want us to relocate with you unless there are important resources at the new location.”

  “What about over two hundred people?” Doctor Brant asked. “Are they not important?”

  Nate gently touched his head. “I too am wondering what important resources could be in this town – other than the people that is.”