by Kyle Pratt
The soldiers from the armory fanned across the parking lot and returned fire.
Caden slid behind a car and fired off a three-round burst.
Brooks did the same five feet to his left.
The sound of rifle fire boomed in Caden’s ears. Bullets pinged and ricocheted. The windshield beside him shattered. Blood trickled into his eyes. He wiped his face with one arm and noticed more cuts on his hand.
Brooks slid down the vehicle and curled into a fetal position with a phone to his ear.
“Are you okay?” Caden shouted.
Brooks nodded.
Caden continued to shoot.
Squatting low the XO scooted close. Blood from several cuts ran down his face. “The first sergeant reports he’s coming up behind soldiers east of the armory. He’ll be in position in one minute.”
Caden smiled. That was good news. If the missile hit they were still too close but, hopefully, Zach had taken care of that and the noise of their gunfire had covered his shot. “Ceasefire. Pass the word.”
While the gunfire gradually stopped from Caden’s men in the parking lot, it continued in other directions from the roof and defensive positions on the north and west of the armory. He waited hoping the traitors in the forest wouldn’t notice the change of gunfire.
Caden worried as the seconds ticked along. Then he heard gunfire erupt from deeper in the forest. The blasts told him Fletcher had engaged the soldiers on the east.
* * *
Observation Post WNW of Armory, Sunday, September 27th
The soldier’s M4 fired a three round burst.
Zach felt a blazing hot burn as one bullet cut along his cheek. The others kicked up stone and dirt into his face. Zach fired a single shot from his 30-30.
The soldier stumbled back.
Zach fired again and the young man fell limp to the ground.
Even with the noise of gunfire from the armory, several soldiers turned.
Zach shot the laser.
It fell.
For good measure he fired another round into the device.
Bullets slammed around Zach, throwing dust and dirt into his face. Gunfire filled his ears as he bolted from the hill. Like a cheetah he shot through the forest only wavering to avoid obstacles in his path. Death and fear filled most of his thoughts, but as he sprinted he recalled the day he tried to catch DeLynn’s kidnappers. If he ran hard he could lose these soldiers.
Then the realization hit him, he couldn’t outrun a bullet. He changed his strategy. Using the natural features of the forest for momentary cover he ran from tree to bramble to gully and rocks. Each time he came from behind something, Zach cringed, expecting a bullet to slam into him. His lungs burned but he dared not slowdown. The soldiers might be right behind him.
At the top of a slope he slid on loose ground and tumbled over and over, down a steep embankment to the creek below.
He splashed into the shallow water and jumped to his feet.
Pain shot through both legs.
Zach collapsed to his hands and knees. He glanced up the slope. No soldiers were in sight. His heart still pounded, but he slung his rifle on his back and dragged himself to the cover of nearby bushes.
Now hidden, he examined his wounds. Blood stained the right thigh of his jeans. Glass snagged denim threads as he eased the phone from his pocket. Pain shot down his limb. Several pieces of glass were missing from the bloody screen. He knew for certain where they were.
No hope of calling for help remained. He dropped the remnants into his backpack. With great care he pulled his pants down to mid-thigh and hoped he would remain undiscovered. He didn’t want to die with his pants down.
He pulled his shirt off and used it to brush blood and small pieces of glass from his leg. Then he swept across another spot and pain surged like an electric shock.
A deep moan rose in his throat, but he choked it back. Footfalls!
Zach stifled a groan as he looked through the bush.
Six men scrambled down the embankment.
Were they looking for him? No. These soldiers sprinted as they passed on both sides. He sat frozen, barely breathing; convinced he would soon die with his shirt off and his pants halfway down his legs. He sighed inwardly remembering that today he turned eighteen. Afraid he would die on his birthday he remained still until they disappeared up the far bank.
Shots boomed in the woods and distant voices sounded in the air. A helicopter flew low over the gully. Shouts arose in the forest, but no one came close enough for Zach to identify. So, he remained hidden in the brush, staring into the blue sky. Gradually he realized the only sounds were the gentle ripple of the creek and the breeze.
Again he examined his legs.
As he pulled the sliver from his limb, Zach wondered how he would pay for Mrs. Hollister’s phone. Examining the two inch long-shard he was thankful it cut at a steep angle and not directly into his leg. The wound would be painful and need a few stiches, but he could walk.
His left ankle still throbbed. He hoped it wasn’t broken, but the pain indicated at least a sprain. He might be able to hobble along. With a smile, he recalled the saying first sergeant Fletcher often said, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” He was growing very strong today.
Now high in the sky, the sun indicated a time around noon. Were there more enemy soldiers in the woods? He didn’t know. But if there were, he couldn’t outrun them. Still he felt like a coward hiding in the bushes. He had run while his friends fought. How many died had died after he ran away?
Hours passed before he could bring himself to eat the lunch DeLynn had provided. Over the next few hours he drank from his water bottle, but other than that, hardly moved.
The sun cast dark shadows across the gully before he left his hiding place. He filled his water bottle from the stream, and found a long branch to use as a crutch. The embankment loomed too steep to climb in his condition, so he followed the creek to a nearby road. There he hoped a car would come along and offer him a ride, but no one passed.
The moonless night overtook the day while he trudged the side road. The stars were beautiful, but the darkness made his hobble all the more difficult. He seemed to stumble over every rock in along the path. He retrieved his flashlight, but used it only sparingly. Batteries were expensive.
As he neared the main highway his foot kicked something soft and he fell across it.
The softness moaned. “Help us.”
“What?” Zach, on his hands and knees, turned back at the sound of a woman’s voice. He patted for what he barely saw.
A hand grabbed his collar with unexpected force and pulled him close. “Help us. They stole our car.”
Zach felt her breath as she spoke. He pulled back and fell on another lump of softness. In near panic he scrambled painfully toward the road. Clutching his branch like a weapon, but still on his knees he used his other hand to turn on the flashlight.
A woman and two small children lay huddled along the roadside.
Chapter Twenty One
East of Hansen, Sunday, September 27th
“Are … my girls … okay?” The voice came as a whisper.
Zach crawled back between the mother and girls. The two children were inches from the woman, so close that Zach, had to be careful not to kneel on them. They both felt cool and he found no pulse. “Ah … they’re okay.” He lied.
“Help us.”
Zach could barely help himself. He had been hobbling down the road all night. He had no idea how to assist this poor woman. “What happened? What can I do?”
“Do you have … a phone? They took mine.”
Zach grasped the phone in his bag. But as he pulled it out he recalled its sorry condition.
She smiled at the sight of it. “Call 911.”
The shattered screen told Zach no call could be made. He smiled at the woman. “Of course.” He tapped the screen once. “Ah, they’ll want to know what happened.”
“Sick. We were going … to the hospita
l. Carjacked. We’ve been walking.”
“Okay. I’ll tell them.” Zach wanted to run from the woman and the illness that he knew might be Kern flu, but he stayed. He tapped the broken screen three times and then faked a conversation with the emergency operator. When he ended the call he forced a smile. “They’re coming.” But he had done nothing to help her, and the longer he stayed the more likely he would be exposed. “I should go down to the main road. I could stop a car. They might be able to help.”
“No. Stay with me … please.”
He nodded, and cradled her head in his lap.
“Do you have any water?”
“Yes.” He pulled the bottle from his bag and offered all she wanted.
As the next twenty minutes past, her breathing slowed, and then stopped.
He checked her carotid artery for a pulse and found none. Rarely had Zach sought answers from God, but as tears welled, he lifted his face to the sky. “Why? Why bring me here if there was nothing I could do?” He set her head on the earth and stood.
“God, what good have I done here? I couldn’t save this woman. I couldn’t save my own mother. What good have I done anywhere?”
Zach grasped the crutch-stick and continued along the road, but a after a few yards he collapsed to the ground, stricken by both exhaustion and despair. He had no idea how long he sat there mulling his physical and emotional distress.
When the eastern sky turned shades of purple and pink he rose, leaned hard on his branch, and resumed his slow hobble. By the time he reached the city limit the sun shone over the nearby hills and seemed unusually warm. Zach drank deeply from his half-full water bottle.
* * *
Hansen Armory, Monday, September 28th
Caden watched the growing splendor of dawn from the window of his office. It was good to be alive.
Weston entered, talking on his phone. “Well, that’s all great news. Thanks. I’ll see you shortly.” He slipped his phone into a jacket pocket. “The troops from Olympia will take the prisoners for interrogation and Governor Monroe says I should head back.”
“Are you going to Olympia or joining the governor in Colorado?” Caden turned away from the window.
“Olympia for now, but events are moving fast. I’ll probably join him in Colorado soon.”
Caden yawned. He had been up all night. “You found the traitor?”
“Yes. We were watching a few people certain one of them was the spy. We simply waited to see who acted on the false information we gave them.”
Caden thought for a moment. “Is the spy Colonel Hutchison?”
“Hutchison?” Weston smiled. “No, he’s a pain in the backside, but he’s an old-fashioned patriot.”
“Who then?”
“You probably don’t know him.” Weston shook his head. “Until recently, I didn’t know him. He works … worked, in the intelligence department, but didn’t have the kind of personality that stood out. His name is Major Dowrick.”
The name seemed familiar, but Caden struggled to recall the face. Then it came to him. He had met Dowrick one week ago in Olympia. Colonel Hutchison had joked that Dowrick didn’t talk much, but listened and asked good questions. Caden nodded. Of course Dowrick listened well. That was his real job. “What will they do to him?”
“Treason is a capital offense.” Weston stepped across the small office, but stopped in the doorway. “I’ll pack my toothbrush and underwear.” Still in the entryway, he hesitated. “That kid in the forest who warned us … did you ever find him?”
“Zach? No. We’re still looking.” Caden prayed no harm had come to him.
* * *
Hansen, Monday, September 28th
Zach drank the last of his water as the sun blazed over his head. A few cars passed him, but none stopped. He realized that with a cut along one cheek, blood stained jeans and hobbling along using a branch he probably looked like a refugee from a FEMA camp or a bum. It didn’t matter. He would soon reach the hotel and home.
When he turned the corner he saw the hotel, but stopped. He couldn’t go there. The woman he helped probably had Kern flu. If he had been exposed he might infect DeLynn, Vicki, and others. The girls would be upset when he didn’t come home, but if he had the flu they would live and, if he wasn’t sick, he would explain and apologize profusely.
He wanted to tell someone about the bodies of the woman and her children, but he didn’t see a way to do that without exposing others. Tomorrow, when he knew he wasn’t ill, might be the best he could do.
Zach turned north and limped out of town. He thought about going to the hospital. Even if he didn’t have the flu the doctors could treat his leg that throbbed with each step and stitch his hip and cheek.
His head ached and stomach churned. On crippled foot, the journey to the hospital would take two hours, but the place that had been home for many years would take only thirty minutes. He turned off the main road and headed for the rusty blue trailer. Hot, tired and thirsty, he spotted the end of his old driveway on schedule.
As he shuffled up the gravel lane he heard a car and looked over his shoulder. A deputy drove by. He shouted and waved, but the car had already passed. He grumbled at his bad luck, retrieved the key from the bush where it was hidden, and stumbled into the trailer.
* * *
Observation Post WNW of Armory, Monday, September 28th
Caden followed First Sergeant Fletcher into the woods northwest of the armory.
“I’m sure this is the place Zach used.” Fletcher pushed bramble aside with his elbow, and climbed to the top of the small knoll. “I discovered it a couple of years ago on a hike in the area.”
Caden spotted the dark red stain on the stone just ahead. Stepping close, he ran his fingers along the now dry blood.
“Yeah, I noticed that too.” Fletcher stepped to a nearby bush and moved a few branches. “We also found this.” He pointed to four 30-30 cartridges on the ground. “We found two bullets in the laser targeting device and a dead soldier just over there.” He pointed. “All of this tells me he didn’t get away cleanly. He may have been captured. But if not, he may have crawled off somewhere to hide and ah … well, he might be so weak now that he can’t signal us.”
“We’ll keep looking,” Caden ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
As he walked from the hill, Caden prayed the young man still lived.
* * *
Brennon Trailer, Rural Lewis County, Monday, September 28th
Zach awoke. Light shone in through a small window. Boxes were stacked along one wall. The bed was gone, but this had once been his bedroom. He struggled to recall what task had brought him there. He leaned back in the ancient recliner that now served as a bed and pulled the blanket high on his chest. How long had he been there?
Nausea swept up from his stomach. He stumbled from the recliner and hurried to toward the bathroom. Pain in his ankle and exhaustion brought him to his knees. He vomited on the carpet near the recliner. Sweat ran down his face, but he couldn’t stop shivering. Slowly he returned to the chair and pulled the blanket tight around him. Thoughts came in hazy disjointed bits, but he put the pieces together and realized the cause of his symptoms—Kern flu.
Zach pulled the blanket tight around him and smiled. Turning away from the hotel had been the right choice. He had stopped the spread of the virus.
He would die, but DeLynn and Vicki would live.
Chapter Twenty Two
Hansen Armory, Monday, September 28th
About noon, Caden walked across the parking lot still thinking about those who died and the one still missing—Zach. Caden pushed from his mind the thought First Sergeant Fletcher had brought up, that the boy might be wounded and dying, concealed somewhere in the forest.
Caden intended to go home, eat, wash up, and return to the search. He also needed to talk with Sheriff Hoover. Explaining a battle at the edge of town would best be done in person.
He fumbled with his keys and looked up as he approached his ve
hicle. Three holes punctured the windshield with cracks crisscrossing the rest. A pool of oil threaded off to one side and two tires were flat.
He stared at the car wondering how he might get a replacement.
A nineteen year-old private pulled alongside. “Do you need a ride, sir?”
Caden rode to the sheriff’s office listening to rap music.
Hoover stood in the lobby talking to a deputy. “We’ll deal with the consequences as they appear.” He turned as Caden neared. “I’m glad to see you’re okay. What was all that shooting this morning? I tried to get close with two of my deputies, but your people warned us off. Half the town called 911.”
Caden explained what he could. “So, we had to pull our soldiers from the checkpoints to defend the armory and counterattack.”
Hoover nodded. “A couple hours after your people left, the refugee camp outside of town rioted. I think they knew the soldiers were gone. We couldn’t hold it alone, so I pulled the deputies. The refugees flooded into town. I’m trying to locate the sick people, but it’s probably too late.”
“So, Kern flu is now in Hansen.” Caden sighed. “Do you need my soldiers back on the checkpoints?”
“I suppose we should regain control of them.”
Caden nodded and made a call to Brooks.
A minute later the squad car rumbled up the driveway to the Westmore home.
As Caden climbed from the vehicle, his dad stepped from the barn. “I thought we were done with the days of deputies bringing you home.”
“I thought so, too.” Caden grinned and waved as Hoover drove away. Turning to his father he asked, “Did you hear the shooting last night?”
“A couple thousand gunshots will rouse even a deep sleeper like me.”
“Well, I’m going to need a new car.”
“You all right?”
He nodded.
“I can’t help with your car problems, but I’m fixing the well-house door. Join me in the barn and tell me about last night.”
Caden followed his father to the old tack room which he’d converted into a tool room or, as he called it, the “man cave.”
