Apocalypse Law 4

by John Grit

  Another explosion at the front gate momentarily startled Austin, but he was soon back on the air. Lights flashed outside in the foggy morning, and he could hear the rattle of vehicles coming down the drive. Still, he refused to give up and flee into the woods without first contacting someone who could help.

  ~~~

  Thirty-five miles north of the farm, Capt. Mike Donovan walked into the abandoned office building that had been commandeered by the Army. The duty officer stood and saluted. He was behind a desk that was formally for a civilian receptionist. Donovan returned the salute casually and asked, “Has Col. Hewitt’s entourage returned yet?”

  Sergeant Silverstein answered, “Yes sir.”

  The look on his face prompted Capt. Donovan to ask, “What is it?”

  “Sir, uh, Col. Hewitt has ordered the execution of a man caught with a weapon.”

  Surprised, he asked, “Is that his only crime?”

  “Yes sir,” the sergeant answered.

  Donovan had been laboring hard for sixteen hours, tending to the myriad of details required to establish a base of operations in the downtown area, but now he had no intention of hitting the sack for a little shuteye. “Where is he?”

  “Sir, the Col. is resting and is not to be disturbed.”

  That wasn’t the question he meant to ask, but he let it go. “Where is the prisoner?”

  “He’s locked in a cell in the courthouse down on the corner.” He pointed to his right.

  “When are you scheduled to be relieved?” Donovan asked.

  “At 6:00 hours, sir.”

  He checked his watch. “That’s fifteen minutes from now. When you’re relieved, stay here. I will need you. This morning’s work has just begun.”

  “Yes sir,” the soldier said.

  Donovan rushed out of the building and headed down the sidewalk at a yard-eating gait, a sense of urgency on his face. Ten minutes later, when he had a chance to see the condition of the prisoner, his fears were confirmed. The man had been beaten nearly to death but was still conscious. He moaned as much in fear as pain, when Donovan’s shadow fell on him in the cell.

  “Hold on Mr. I’m not here to harm you.” He pointed at the soldier guarding the cell door. “Is he the one that did this to you?”

  The man shook his swollen head.

  “Did an officer do this?”

  The man nodded. “Hewitt,” he said, through swollen lips.

  Donovan’s face grew rigid and pale. Visibly taken aback, he turned to the soldier outside the cell. “Did Col. Hewitt beat this man?”

  The soldier stuttered, “I, I didn’t see it.”

  “That was not my question. Do you know who beat this man?” Donovan raised his voice only slightly above normal, but everyone who knew him understood what that meant: he was madder than hell, because someone had screwed up and was about to pay for it.

  “Sir,” the soldier hesitated, “that’s what I was told. It happened before my watch.”

  “Use your radio to call for a medical team. I want this man taken care of.” Donovan headed for the door.

  “Yes sir.” The soldier saluted as Capt. Donovan walked by.

  The soldier tried the radio several times. Finally, he woke someone up enough that he answered. “Get with it, will you? Capt. Donovan just left, and the shit has hit the fan. Too hardheads are about to go at it.”

  Back at the office building/headquarters, Donovan stormed in. The duty officer rose from his seat and snapped to attention. Donovan returned the salute. “It’s past 6:00 hours. Where’s your replacement?”

  “He must have been detained, sir.”

  “See that goddamn radio on the desk?” Donovan pointed. “Does it work?”

  Silverstein stood in a brace. “Yes sir. It worked the last time I tried it.”

  “Then use it, and find out what the hell’s keeping your relief.”

  “Yes sir.” Not comfortable with Capt. Donovan being so short and hard-edged in demeanor when no bullets were flying and no one was dying, he fumbled the radio, caught it in midair and regained his composure. Before he had time to speak into it, his relief arrived.

  Donovan headed for the stairway. “Follow me; you’ve been relieved.”

  Sergeant Silverstein grabbed his M4 and tried to stay on Donovan’s heels. Despite the age difference, he had trouble keeping up with him as they climbed several floors up. He was fifteen feet behind when they reached the radio room.

  Capt. Donovan experienced another disappointment when he found the radio room empty and the radios unattended. “Son of a goddamn bitch,” he exclaimed. “What kind of a chickenshit Army are we running, Sergeant?”

  “Uh, I’ll find the son of a bitch for you, Captain. He passed by my post when he went on duty at midnight, and no one has relieved him. The son of a bitch is supposed to still be here on duty. I knew he was a half-stepping goldbricker, but this is the first time I’ve caught him off post. I’ll ream him a new ass when I get my hands on him.”

  Donovan had heard it all before and let the soldier’s words hang in the air like a stale fart. After sitting in front of a radio, he said, “Just guard the door and don’t let anyone in. Be prepared to use that weapon. Hewitt’s not going to like what I have to tell Gen. Reardan. He’s likely to order me arrested.”

  “Arrested?”

  “Or executed.”

  Sergeant Silverstein began to sweat. “Sir, I guess you don’t know about the raid on a farm Col. Hewitt ordered yesterday afternoon, do you? He learned of the general location of the place by beating the hell out of a prisoner. The man didn’t know exactly where it was, but what he did know helped us locate it. After a few days of searching with choppers that is. Evidently it’s a large group, and they’re all armed. The Colonel wants to make an example of them. The raid should be happening right now.”

  Capt. Donovan turned a new shade of white. “Oh shit!”

  Chapter 8

  Voices out front told Austin soldiers were not far from the house. He pushed his luck and tried one last time to contact someone on the radio. Ominous sounds from outside, a noncom barking orders and soldiers’ voices not far from the door, told him it was time to flee out the back. He grabbed his rifle and ran.

  Twenty seconds later, soldiers burst through the front door, carbines ready. One tall, thin soldier sprayed the living room walls with his M4, even though it was obvious the room was empty. Photos of racing horses, past champions, fell from the wall and shattered on the tile floor. Trophies and awards on shelves were torn asunder and came crashing to the floor to join the photographs.

  Sergeant Derek McCain tried to yell above the chatter of the M4, but was having no luck. “Cease fire!” When the soldier stopped to reload, McCain yelled again, “Stop the damn firing. What the hell are you shooting at?”

  The soldier reloaded, glaring back at McCain.

  One by one, soldiers yelled, “Clear!” as they checked every room in the house for occupants. A soldier rushed down the stairs and into the living room. “There’s no one here.”

  Lieutenant Nelson Herzing walked in, dragging Slim by the collar, still bound tightly in a rope and looking much the worse for wear. He bled from his mouth and nose, and an ugly gash ran a ragged course down the side of his head. “They left us a present.” Lt. Herzing unceremoniously flung Slim onto the floor. “He says a chopper buzzed the farm several times, long before we got here. Some asshole pilot warned them.”

  McCain scowled. “We get back, we’ll find out who that damn pilot was. I’m tired of pussies in uniform going easy on the lawless civilians. Every time I turn around, someone’s whining about how hard we’re being on brigands.”

  Slim struggled and finally sat up, despite his hands being tied together. Lt. Herzing open-handed him upside his head, knocking him back to the floor. “Intel says they have children with them. They couldn’t have gone far.” He kicked Slim in the stomach. “I expect this one knows where they went to.”

  Slim spit blood and caught h
is breath. “Uh, yeah, they went to the fallback camp. It’s only a couple miles into the woods. They figured they had to have a place to go if they were ever forced to abandon the farm.” He looked up at the men around him, terror in his eyes. “I can show you where it is.”

  Lt. Herzing laughed. “No wonder they have your ass tied up.”

  Slim maneuvered his legs into position and sat on the floor again. “They were mad at me ‘cause I told them I thought we should move into town, where we would be protected.” He looked up from the floor, shivering. “They’re meaner than you are.”

  Everyone who heard what he said laughed. Sgt. McCain pulled a telescoping baton out of a jacket pocket. “Oh, I doubt that.” He brought the baton down on Slim’s collarbone, producing a sickening cracking sound. Slim moaned and quivered in agony on the tile, rolling onto his side.

  Lt. Herzing protested, “Enough of that. We need to take him with us. Unless you want to carry him I would hold off on that shit.”

  “My collarbone’s broken.” Slim moaned. “You broke my collarbone!”

  Sgt. McCain yanked Slim off the floor, ignoring his screams of agony. “I don’t give a damn if your legs are broken, you’re going to walk, and you’re going to lead us to that camp.”

  ~~~

  There wasn’t much to the emergency camp, just a few pole barns with layers of overlapping brown palmetto fronds for rain-shedding shingles on the roofs and mosquito nets for walls. Wild-eyed children clung to Kendell, afraid they were about to suffer another ordeal, complete with weeks of hunger and sleeping on the muddy ground in a swamp. Renee helped to calm the children as best she could.

  Ramiro ordered his people to set up a security perimeter. He insisted on security being so well-manned that it left mostly children in the camp, as nearly all of the adults were on picket duty.

  Still, Mrs. MacKay was worried. “I’m thinking we should flee deeper into the woods until there is reason to believe the soldiers have left the area. This is too close to the farm.”

  After making certain Brian was as comfortable as possible, Nate and Deni sought out Ramiro and Mrs. MacKay. The two were discussing moving deeper into the woods, when Nate walked up and asked, “Where’s slim?” He looked around. “Please don’t tell me you left him behind. I thought someone was going to take him with us or kill him.”

  Mrs. MacKay looked at Ramiro, a question on her face.

  “I, uh, left him tied up in the shed,” Ramiro said.

  Deni looked sick. “The soldiers know where we are. As sure as hell, Slim has told them by now.”

  “The chances of outrunning them are just about zero,” Nate said. “With all the children and disabled we have to deal with, we can’t move fast.”

  Deni added, “And we’re leaving a trail in the woods a blind man could follow.”

  “We don’t have much of a chance if we fight, do we?” Ramiro asked.

  Nate noticed several people listening to the conversation, but decided to tell the truth anyway. “Our chances are a little better out here in the woods than at the farm. They went from zero to slim. The problem is our casualties would be grievous. Also, so far we haven’t drawn any blood. Once we do, they’re much less likely to go easy on us. Remember, they’re willingly following orders they know are illegal and immoral. We kill and wound a few of them, they’re likely to go animal on these people, including the children.”

  “Oh dear Lord,” Mrs. MacKay said, her voice full of worry. “For the first time in my life, I have no idea what to do. Even if we give up without a fight, there’s still no guarantee of humane treatment.”

  “You’re right,” Nate said. “There’s danger at every turn. But none of it’s your fault. Don’t blame yourself.” He thought for a moment. “There are things we could do, such as send the main group deeper into the woods, while the best fighters ambush the soldiers and lure them into more ambushes. That may give the main group time to get away.”

  Deni shook her head. “You’re grasping at straws and you know it. This isn’t the same as the situation we were in at the bridge that time. Those brigands didn’t have airpower, and most of them had no training. I’ll tell you what could be done: a few people, such as you and Kendell could sneak away, carrying Brian, while the rest of us give up and rely on the fact they’re U.S. soldiers, and even after everything that’s happened, everything they’ve experienced, everything they’ve lost, they won’t slaughter innocent unarmed American civilians.”

  “Kendell will never leave those children behind,” Nate said. “And I can’t leave him, not and live with myself. Then there’s the danger of you being executed for desertion.” Nate’s demeanor told everyone what he was about to say wasn’t up for discussion. “You’re the only one here actually wanted for a real crime, so you take off and don’t look back. The rest of us will surrender. Maybe they’ll even provide medical care for Brian.”

  Deni was about to protest, but Ramiro spoke up. “He’s right. Unless the soldiers have lost all common decency, you’re the only one that’s in immediate danger. They’ll probably take us to town and put us in some kind of so-called safe zone. There’s a good chance higher authorities will intervene before too much time passes and things get too bad.”

  Nate pulled keys out of his pocket. “Go to the bunker and stay there.”

  She refused to take the keys. “No.”

  Nate held her. “Go on. There’s no reason for you to be caught. You staying will only put you in danger. It’ll change nothing as far as the rest of us are concerned. Use the radio there to get help for us.”

  Tears ran down her face. “It’s not right. Why should I be the only one?”

  Nate held her tighter. “Because you’re the only one they’re likely to shoot on sight and there’s no reason for you to stay. You also know how to use the radio to get in contact with someone who can help.” He released her. “Go on, now. There isn’t much time before they’re here.”

  She backed away, looking at Nate and the others through tears. “I’ll be on the radio night and day.”

  “Do that,” Nate said. “Just be careful you don’t let them locate your signal.”

  She turned and ran into the woods.

  Ramiro said, “Someone should to talk to the soldiers and tell them we’re turning ourselves in. I’ll do it.”

  “Why you?” Rita asked. “I need my husband. Let someone else do it.”

  Ramiro started to speak, but instead walked over and held her.

  Mrs. MacKay thought for a moment. “Nate, will you come with me unarmed and try to reason with them?”

  Nate nodded. “Yes.” He handed Ramiro his rifle, and then his pistol. “We’ll do it together.” He removed his pack and set it on the ground. “We need to go now. They’ll be here any minute.”

  Mrs. MacKay told Ramiro, “Call in the pickets and tell everyone to be ready to lay down their weapons when we return. Don’t do anything to give them an excuse to fire on us.”

  Ramiro nodded. “We are facing a very dangerous moment.”

  Rita said, “We will face it together. If you are to die, let me die with you.”

  “Let’s go.” Nate nodded to Mrs. MacKay. They walked into the woods, both realizing they could be shot on sight.

  After walking only four hundred yards, Nate could hear the soldiers coming. He whispered, “Get down behind that log.” She did as he asked, getting lower to the ground when Nate motioned with his hand.

  Nate yelled out, “Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed.” He was answered by a barrage of automatic gunfire. Taking cover behind a large pine tree, he waited for the gunfire to slack off. When it did, he yelled out once again, “I’m unarmed, damn it – don’t shoot. I have a woman with me.” This time there was no gunfire, but he could hear men moving in the brush, maneuvering, coming in for the kill. “We are no threat to you and are willing to come in unarmed. We have dozens of children with us. Please do not shoot.”

  A voice echoed among the trees. “Come toward me with your ha
nds up.”

  Mrs. MacKay stood. “We are following your instructions.”

  Together, they moved forward slowly, staying in the open with their hands up. “We are just people trying to survive,” Nate said. “We mean no one any harm.”

  A soldier stepped from behind a tree, holding his M4 on them. “Stay where you are and don’t move.”

  Nate stood in a small opening in the brush, half expecting to be shot at any second. Mrs. MacKay stood beside him. Both held their hands over their head.

  The soldier who had nearly broken Slim’s collarbone stepped from behind a pine tree. “Where are the others?” Sgt. McCain demanded. “Before you answer make damn sure you don’t lie to me.”

  “They’re not far,” Nate answered. “We came to contact you first, so there would be no unnecessary shooting.”

  Lt. Herzing had been watching from cover. He exposed just enough of his head to peer around a tree. “She stays here. You go get the others and make sure they leave their guns behind.”

  McCain pointed his carbine at Mrs. MacKay. “The old bat will be the first to die, if you try anything.”

  “We’re not trying anything,” Nate said, “except trying to keep dozens of children alive.” He turned and walked away.

  Approaching the camp, Nate faced the same danger of being shot before he had a chance to speak. He yelled out to identify himself.

  Ramiro yelled back. “No one will shoot. Come on into camp.”

  Nate approached the nervous group slowly and emerged from thick brush. “So far, so good,” he told Ramiro. “They promise not to shoot if we come in unarmed. Gather up the children and stretcher-ridden. Let’s get this over with.”