by R. J. Spears
“We’ll make it work,” Doc Wilson said as he and Henry moved Ellen out of the room.
“I’ll bet we will,” Molly said with no small amount of sarcasm.
Chapter 48
In the Woods
Jo fired off two quick shots then ducked behind a thick oak tree. She didn’t really aim. Her shots were just meant to slow them down. In answer to her shots, bullets slammed into the tree next to her five seconds later, sending shards of bark splintering off into the woods.
The soldiers were getting closer. She looked across the field at an angle, looking through a gap in the foliage, and saw Jones slowly pushing himself toward the tree line. A small blood trail glinted in the moonlight behind his damaged leg. He was making very little progress. She just hoped he didn’t bleed out before he made it to the woods. What he did there was a mystery because she seriously doubted that he has the strength to make a run for it.
To pile on her concerns, she checked her ammunition supply, and her heart sank. She had two magazines for her rifle and one for her pistol, plus what she had in it. Del couldn’t be in much better shape. She didn’t want to abandon Jones, but once she hit her last magazine for her rifle, she’d have to make a run for it into the woods and hope the soldiers didn’t follow her.
Two shots sounded off to her right, and she hoped it was Del and that he was still in the game.
If she could make it back to the truck, she could get more and then head back. At least, that’s what she told herself. Deep down, she knew there’d be no return trip. Jones would be lost.
She ran into the woods about twenty feet, then cut back to her right to get closer to Jones. Up until then, she had been moving left and that set a pattern that the soldiers could possibly predict and follow. Better to shake it up, she thought.
The dark canopy of trees covered her movements but made for slow going. The last thing she wanted to do was to trip into a tree and break some essential bones.
She reached a predetermined point then paused for a moment before making her next move to return to the shootout. The smart move would be running. That would mean giving up on Jones, but worse, it would be leaving Del to fight alone, not knowing she had left. And that is what made up her mind as she made a hard cut back toward the tree line.
Jo made it ten steps when she heard something that made her want to turn around and run. It was the sound of an engine, and it was coming toward the woods. A moment later, she saw light beams cutting across the clearing, splashing across the trees, sending long shadows across the forest floor.
Again, a voice told her to cut and run, but curiosity got the better of her, so she moved toward the tree line. When she got there, she really wished she had turned around.
A vehicle with a rumbling engine moved across the field, its headlight bouncing on the uneven ground. It was hard to make out what it was in the dark, but there was something ominously familiar about its form.
Back in the city, a group of rogue soldiers came on the scene, and along with rifles and other small arms, they had a vehicle called a MAV. It was a fearsome thing with a nasty cannon on it. The soldiers had used that cannon to blast away at the church Jo and her people had taken sanctuary in. It proved to be very effective and devastating. Just remembering it sent a chill through Jo’s body.
Following behind the MAV coming her way were the silhouettes of a handful soldiers, all carrying rifles. The cavalry was on the move and coming for Del and her.
A bullet pinged off the side of the MAV, and the soldiers behind it turned in unison and fired in the direction of whoever had fired on it. The bullets flew like a torrent in the dark of the night, lighting up the soldiers’ faces, making them look like devils to Jo. She sent up a quick prayer, hoping Del got out of the way of the barrage. Just to give Del a chance, Jo fired three shots at the soldiers and one fell, but the others whipped their attention in her direction and opened up on her.
Bullets flew past her, some slamming into tree limbs, shattering them and sending broken twigs and torn leaves down on her. To be safe, she threw herself against the ground as bullets flew overhead. From her new perspective, she looked up and saw that the MAV continued moving forward, and the soldiers followed along, keeping a watchful eye into the woods.
That’s when the harsh reality hit her; there would be no saving Jones.
Russell pushed the truck down the logging road, running with the lights off hopefully, to keep the soldiers from seeing their approach. Under the cover of the trees, it felt like driving inside a cave. Tree limbs slapped against the side of the truck, limbs snapping off. With each hit, Madison jumped a little.
“Do we have to go this fast?” she asked. “I mean with you barely being able to walk.”
“Driving is different.”
“You’re going awfully fast.”
“Are you listening to that?” He pointed out the windshield, motioning toward the sounds of gunfire in the distance. “Our friends need us there five minutes ago.”
“But your head --” she said, but Russell cut her off.
“I know, I know, I know!” he said and Madison drew away from him. He instantly regretted the harshness of his tone. “I know I’m not whole, but I can’t sit on the sidelines while my friends are out there. I can do something. I have to do something.”
What that meant in his current condition he had no idea, but he had to do something.
Del watched the MAV coming their way and felt dread fill his body. It came across the field like some ancient dreadnought, rumbling across the field toward the woods.
How can we fight off an armored vehicle? He asked himself.
Just as quickly as he asked the question, the answer came back, we can’t. He knew Jo had to have come to the same conclusion. But how could he communicate with her? Between the two of them, he was the only one with a walkie-talkie. Russell and Madison had the other one.
From his spot in the darkness of the tree cover, he only caught glimpses of the soldiers trailing behind the MAV. Still, he could slow them down.
He took aim and fired. A couple milliseconds later, a dark figure fell to the ground behind the MAV.
One less soldier to track us down, he thought.
A second later, it seemed like all hell had been loosed on him. The MAV in the city had a cannon, but this one obviously had some kind of heavy machine gun. Fire leapt from the barrel of the gun, lighting up the night, flashing like the lights of hell for all Del was concerned.
Bullets pounded into the tree Del was hiding behind, and he felt each impact as if someone were pounding a thousand hammers into the tree. Bark and parts of the trunk splintered away from the tree, shredding the nearby foliage. Del cuddled up to the tree and prayed to God that it would hold off the bullets because it sure felt like one of the shells would come through it at any moment.
If he had thought it was safe, he would have dashed off into the woods, but with all the rounds hitting the tree, there was a chance he’d take one in the back if he ran. He decided to change his tactics and threw himself to the ground behind the tree and hope they didn’t aim low.
His gambit paid off as bullets slashed over his head, tearing through the forest. Birds and other creatures fled the scene, screeching and cawing as they went.
After a few seconds, the barrage ended, and Del felt like he could breathe again, but he didn’t know for how long and knew that time was going to be short if he stayed where he was. He looked over his shoulder into the field three times before getting up to make a run for it. As soon as he did, the thought came over him that Jo would be on her own if he took off.
But certainly, she saw the writing on the wall as much as he did. It was as plain as day.
Still, the doubts and guilt gnawed at him, holding him in place. He wasn’t an ‘everyman for himself’ type of guy, but he wasn’t into being killed in a suicide mission that returned nothing.
There was only one way to go. He hated the idea that Jo didn’t have a walkie-talkie, but there
was nothing to be done for it, so he took a big risk and placed his rifle over his shoulder, and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Jo!” he yelled as loudly as he could. “It’s time to pull out!”
The soldiers opened up again, and he tossed himself down on the ground as bullets flew overhead. To get some distance between the tree line and himself, he resorted to crawling. It was slow going because he was afraid to stick his butt too far into the air, but he made progress getting deeper into the trees. When he made it fifty feet, he scrambled onto his feet and had just started to run when he saw movement ahead in woods that froze him in place.
Dark figures moved stealthily among the trees just ahead of him, roughly thirty yards away, in a broken formation spaced out every ten feet. It was the first time in his life that he wished that dark figures were zombies, but he knew better. Zombies weren’t stealthy. They were lumbering beasts, who didn’t give a shit about being seen. These were soldiers. And stealthy ones.
Del knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. They were being sandwiched by two sets of soldiers, and he didn’t see much of a way out.
But did Jo know that another group of soldiers had flanked them? Most likely not. Unless they were coming after her, but either way, he couldn’t know her true status.
So, he did the only thing he could and yelled again, “Jo, they’re coming at us from behind!”
As soon as he finished the last word, he had his rifle up and was firing. He knew his muzzle flash would give away his position, so he did as he was trained, firing and moving laterally. Once he got his attackers back on their feet, he switched directions and ran toward where he hoped Jo would be.
His surprise attack only helped a little because the dark forms coming through the woods had guns of their own, and they started using them.
Jo heard Del’s calls in the dark and figured that it was time to unite their duo. She knew Del had taken a great risk to shout out like that. She had to make it pay off.
Gunfire resounded to her right, and she saw muzzle flashes flaring in the woods, blazing like chain lightning. She knew the smart bet would be to run in the opposite direction, but that would leave Del on his own. She quickly considered her options.
She was thirty-nine years old. She wasn’t a trained soldier, even though she knew how to handle a gun. She was one against how many? Too many, she thought. Even if she made her way to Del and doubled the numbers of her modest fighting force, it was still two versus dozens.
No odds maker in Vegas would take that bet.
But if she could get to him, maybe they could shoot their way to safety. She didn’t like that idea and didn’t think it was viable. But maybe she could flank the soldiers that had flanked Del.
Yeah, she told herself, she could try to pull off a Rambo impersonation. Maybe. Or better put, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid running into a hail of bullets. That imagery didn’t improve her mood, so she pushed it out of her mind.
The whole gambit was one big question mark with long odds. It would mean that she would have to sprint into the woods herself and hope she did not run into another detail of soldiers. Plus, she would have to make a wide arc to get around them. Who knew if Del had that much time?
She looked in the direction of where his voice had come from and saw muzzle flashes coming from deep in the woods, then there was an answer in spaced staccato shots. That had to be Del, she guessed. He was still in the fight, but the odds were clearly stacked against him.
The option was to abandon him, and she couldn’t do that, so she took one last look through the trees at Jones, who, surprisingly, had almost made the tree line inching along the ground. Without looking back, she pushed off the tree she was hiding behind and started sprinting directly into the deep woods.
A shout sounded behind her, ordering her to stop, and it was followed by gunshots. Bullets, once again, whizzed by her, shredding trees and bushes. One bullet came by her head so closely, it sounded like a wasp. A really fast and pissed off wasp, ready to sting her to death.
She kept running, gun up and ready to blast anything coming at her in the woods. She took a quick peek to her left as she tried to catch any signs of Del or the soldiers coming after him.
When she looked back front and center, she saw a form quickly coming up, and her heart rate shot up as she slammed on her brakes, sliding for several feet. She snapped up her rifle, and her finger found the trigger then she paused. The figure was coming her way but was shambling that way that only zombies did.
While zombies were usually fear inspiring, she actually felt her body relax a little. Zombies were scary, but armed soldiers intent on killing you were exponentially scarier and deadlier.
Her finger played with the trigger, but she decided that she didn’t want to give up her location, so she moved up on it, drew her rifle back, and timed her next move. The zombie zeroed in on her movements and headed right at her, grunting and groaning in that way that zombies do. There was nothing pretty or melodic about.
The zombie stretched out its dirt-encrusted hands, wanting a piece of her, and Jo whipped the butt of her rifle forward, catching it at the temple. The next thing she heard was the crunching of bone, and the thing jerked to the ground as if someone had dropped a boulder on it.
Jo didn’t pause but just kept moving through the swing and ran straight into the woods for twenty more yards. Once she reached a set point, she swiveled and cut to the left and ran as fast as she could, moving toward where she hoped the soldier’s backs were -- their focus on Del.
“What are we doing, Russell?” Madison asked, no small amount of agitation in her voice.
The truck idled roughly, then the engine smoothed out before catching and hitching again for a few seconds, but it finally found a smooth rhythm for several seconds. This pattern repeated itself every fifteen seconds or so as they sat quietly waiting for God knows what, Madison thought.
They sat on the logging road, fifty feet off a large opening they both knew led into the open field at the back of the complex. They also knew that there was a mass of soldiers out there, firing away at their friends in the woods. What they didn’t know was how many soldiers there were and if their friends were even still alive, so Russell sat with the walkie-talkie in his lap, his finger caressing the talk button but not pressing it.
“Russell?” Madison said again, her voice almost a whine.
“We need information,” he said. “We don’t even know if they are still alive, and there’s no point in going out there if they are dead.”
“Then call them,” she said.
“It’s not that simple,” he said, and he knew that the cautious Russell was trying to take charge again. The one that kept its head down. The one that survived.
“It is,” she said and leaned across the seat, making a swipe at the walkie-talkie, but Russell whipped it away from her outstretched hands.
“Come on, Russell,” she said. “Don’t be a wuss.”
Wusses survive, the cautious Russell said inside his head, but he pushed away the voice. He was past that voice. Cautious Russell had been banished when he came out of his hidey hole in the hills and decided to help the people in the church when it was under attack. It was how he met Paige.
The cautious Russell voice spoke up again, and you see how that turned out.
Images of Paige flashed in his mind. He saw her smiling at him, a crooked little smile. One that he found endearing, nonetheless. He saw her standing in the middle of a street as smoke clouds whipped by her. He saw her dead, shot in the head after becoming a zombie. The somber slideshow could have kept playing. Instead he said, “Shut up.”
Madison inched away from him.
“Sorry,” he quickly said. He started to say that he wasn’t talking to her, but there was no one else in the truck, and he didn’t want to come across as crazy. But maybe he was, he thought. Maybe that whack on the head that had scrambled his eyesight and his balance had also knocked him out of the land of sanity.
“We have to cal
l,” Madison pleaded.
Russell fought inside to push his cautious nature aside and he brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth and pressed the talk button.
“Del, this is Russell. What is your situation?”
Russell knew that was a loaded question because, from all the gunfire, he knew it wasn’t good.
He spoke into the microphone again, “Do you need our help?”
They sat uneasily in the cab of the truck waiting for a reply. The seconds ticked by, and with each one, Russell felt the chance of seeing either of his friends alive again sinking.
He started to key the button again when Del’s voice blared from the tiny speaker in a hushed whisper, “I told you not to call back. I am pinned down with soldiers on each side of me. I don’t know where Jo is or even if she is still alive. We couldn’t get to Jones.” He stopped talking for a moment, and a set of shots sounded over the walkie-talkie, forcing Russell to pull it away from his ear.
“Shit,” Del said in a whisper. “That was close. Things are pretty fucking dark here. Soldiers are coming at me from the field, and another group is coming up my ass from behind.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “Where are you?”
Russell said, “We are in the truck on the logging road that leads to the back of the Manor.”
“Shit,” Del said. “You’re on the other side of the world from us.”
“But we could do something,” Russell broke in, even though that cautious side of him told him never to volunteer. Not again.
“It’s probably not a good play,” Del said. “You’d just get yourself killed.”
“Maybe we can provide a distraction.” Russell said.
“Hold on,” Del said, and his end of the conversation went dead for several seconds.
Russell was tempted to press the talk button again, but he decided to wait Del out. Forty seconds later, Del responded. “Had to switch positions.” He paused again. “I don’t know what the hell you can do. We are screwed blue and tattooed. You need to save your own asses. I’m turning off the walkie. They are going to hear it, and then I’m for sure a dead man.”
