Fifty Falling Stars

by Wesley Higginbotham

  Kirk dropped from the tree and ran back over to Jimmy and Clay. “Two big buses and couple thousand people just showed up. Most of them I could make out were armed and were wearing something tied around their left arms.”

  “What are they doing?” Clay asked.

  “I have no idea.” Kirk said. “If I had to guess, they looked like a small army. They’re too well fed and provisioned to be a super-large group of refugees. Then there’s the markings tied around their arms. Could be some local militia that formed and is taking over the area? Who really knows?”

  “What do you think we should do?” Jimmy asked.

  “We need to stay clear of them. I say we move back another five hundred yards and see what happens. If the town opens up for them, then we may be able to cross.” Kirk said as he motioned for them to follow.

  Kirk led them east until he found a suitable tree to climb. He had to go higher this time, but eventually found a spot about twenty feet off the ground where they could see the bridge and make out parts of the army setting up on the north bank. Kirk handed each of the men a piece of five-fifty cord and ordered them to tie themselves to the tree. “No sense in going through all of this shit to survive, and die because you fell out of a tree.”

  The men watched the bridge and the army for over two hours. Kirk noted that the army didn’t make any efforts to set up camp. They either plan on being let in or attacking before nightfall. He thought. He braced his rifle against a small limb above his perch. He wished he had a pair of binoculars. The gun, even though braced, was getting heavy. Something flashy caught his eye on the bridge. A group of four motorcycles drove onto the bridge. They stopped about seventy yards shy of the wall. Kirk could only imagine their conversation with the people behind the wall. The man in charge of the group, a black man was all that Kirk could tell from this distance, gave the wall a gesture that Kirk assumed was the bird. The men on the bikes turned around and drove back across the bridge. Kirk saw one of the bikers fall, his bike swerving to the left before hitting the side rail. An instant later, Kirk heard the shots that had hit the man.

  As the other bikes make it to the north side of the bridge, the sound of motors revving and yells from the crowd reached him. The two buses barreled, side-by-side, down the road and onto the bridge. Kirk saw that the buses were armored with old car hoods and other scrap metal fastened to the front and sides. Kirk estimated that they must have been going at least fifty miles an hour when they impacted the wall. The wall of cars didn’t have a chance. Two on the top of the wall fell into the river as the rest scattered along the bridge. The crowd of people swarmed across the bridge behind their battering rams.

  The inhabitants of Owensboro had been smart though, building a second defensive wall where the bridge met the south bank. Gunshots from the second wall rang out as the buses tried to reorient themselves. One bus was rendered useless, having run up on the guard rail. Its left front tire hung in the air; its axel grounded on the barrier. The second bus lined up for a run on the other wall as the mass of people caught up with it. People swarmed everywhere. Kirk wondered at the logistics of keeping that many people fed. Clay verbalized Kirk’s thoughts. “Man alive. How do you feed that many folks, Kirk?”

  “I have no idea. They must have a stash of food somewhere. Either that, or they’re taking it from town raids like this one.”

  The second bus broke the remaining wall. The inhabitants of Owensboro stormed out of the broken wall like ants from a kicked anthill. The groups mixed together, but the invaders made steady progress. Kirk turned back to Clay and Jimmy. “I want you guys to get back to camp. Now! When you get there, make sure there are no fires. Have everyone hide in the bushes by the side of the road.”

  “What about you, Mr. Chandler?” Jimmy asked.

  “I’m going to hang out here and maybe get a closer look.”

  “Then I’m with you.” Jimmy said.

  “No. This could be some really dangerous shit. You’re just not up to it yet.” Kirk said. The young man lowered his eyes.

  “No fires. Got it.” Clay said. “What are we going to do about dinner?”

  “Remember when I said I kept those MRE’s for emergencies? Well, this counts. You’ll find them in the bottom of my pack. Split one between two of you. Just make sure you put my pack back the way it was and keep it ready to go. When I get back, we’re going to leave. I want the two of you to keep a good lookout for anyone coming toward the camp. Have everyone packed up and ready. The skies should be clear and the moon should be out tonight. I fully intend for us to be across the river on the 231 bridge and as far away from these guys as possible come daylight.”

  “Why all of the panic?” Clay asked. “These guys just attacked a whole town. Why would they even bother with a group as small as us?”

  “They may not, but I just want to be on the safe side. We still don’t really know what happened down there. That’s why I’m going in for a closer look.”

  Clay looked up at the sky. The sun had begun its slow descent into the horizon. “It’ll be way past dark when you get back, won’t it? How are we supposed to know it’s you?”

  “I’ll give a Bob White call.” Clay looked a little confused. Kirk demonstrated. “When you hear me give it, do it back to me. I’ll find you.”

  The three men descended from the tree and split up. Clay and Jimmy set a good pace for the northeast. Kirk followed the setting sun.

  The battle in the town lasted a little over an hour. Kirk watched from the trees until he saw the last of the army and the big fuel truck cross the bridge. He prepared to cross when a group of several hundred people, all wearing a cloth on their left arm, came out of the town and onto the bridge. They gathered up the dead and dragged them back into the town. They finished as the last light of day faded.

  About an hour after dark, Kirk crossed the bridge. He kept low by the side rails, taking his time. He saw several large fires burning in the street past where the bridge led into town. The army had set up at the foot of the bridge after the battle. An attack from the rear didn’t seem to be a concern from them.

  As he reached the scattered cars of the wall, he crawled halfway underneath one and shouldered his rifle. Because of the bridge’s elevation, he had no trouble seeing several blocks into town. A group of naked women tied down to the hoods of some cars caught his eye. Men lined up to take their turns. He couldn’t tell if the women were alive or not. Kirk didn’t know which would be worse, hoping the women were dead and not experiencing the unpleasantness or the thought of a bunch of dudes lining up to pump a dead girl.

  He saw the guy that must be in charge standing on a car hood, pointing and directing the others, who jumped to obey. Kirk saw it was the same black fellow he had seen on the motorcycle. Kirk followed one of the man’s points, leading him to a man dragging a dead body near one of the fires. When the man dropped it, another man, covered in blood and holding a butcher’s knife, cut the clothes from the corpse. Once he had the body naked, the man cut up the corpse. He handed pieces of the dead man to another man who took them over to the fire where some parts roasted, some grilled, and some boiled. Kirk now understood part of the logistics of feeding such a large army. He wanted the thought to make him sick, wished for it; but it didn’t. Not that he approved, but he saw the logic in it. It was an abomination; however, it was food.

  He moved his scope to an approaching vehicle. Three passengers stood in the truck bed. The truck stopped in front of the black man. Kirk read the body postures of both men as a stocky Hispanic guy with tattooed hands gave orders to the black man. They talked for a few minutes and the truck pulled off. So that’s the real master, or monster, of this little army. Kirk thought. Who you are?

  Approaching footsteps jarred Kirk from his thoughts. He saw three sets of feet approaching the wrecked cars where he hid. He had been too focused on what was going on in town to notice the men approach. Dumbass! He cursed at himself. If he moved, they would see him. It was dark and only his legs, from
the knees down, stuck out from under the car. He hoped they wouldn’t notice him if he was still. Kirk watched as the feet walked to the back of the car pile. He thought he was in the clear until one of the pairs of boots stopped.

  “Dude,” one of the pair of feet said, “looks like the vultures missed one. This poor bastard ended up under the car.”

  “Think we should grab him?” One of the voices said.

  “Of course, dipshit. It’s meat ain’t it?”

  Kirk laid his rifle down and reached behind his back with his right hand to retrieve his combat knife. The car concealed the move. No sooner had he hidden the knife in his right hand, the blade concealed from above by his forearm; a pair of hands grabbed his feet. He went limp as the man dragged him from under the car. Once clear of the car, one of the voices asked. “He one of ours?”

  “Nah. Ain’t got the cloth on the arm.”

  “Turn him over and let’s see how bad he got it.” The third voice ordered.

  Kirk barely opened his eyes, just enough to see the shadow the man cast in the moonlight. When he felt a hand touch his right shoulder, Kirk spun, lashing out in a backhanded motion with his right hand. He saw the combat knife tear through the kneeling man’s neck. The man fell back in a spray of dark, warm blood and tripped, falling to lean against the bridge’s guard rail. He died making gurgling sounds.

  The second man stood mere feet away from Kirk. Kirk kicked in an arch with his right leg, striking the man just above his right knee. The man collapsed to the ground. Kirk rolled to his opponent and shoved the knife into the man’s chest, just below the sternum. His blade went in clean, tearing the diaphragm before piercing the man’s heart. Kirk twisted the knife as he jerked it out.

  The third man made a move to draw a weapon. He stood a little further away from Kirk than the others had. Kirk made a desperate lunge toward the man, swing his knife wildly as the gun drew on him. Kirk felt a slight jolt in his hand as the knife hit the bones in the man’s wrist. The gun clattered to the ground. The momentum from his lunge had taken him to lie just shy of the man’s feet. Kirk reversed his grip on the knife to the traditional stabbing grip and slid it behind the man’s right knee. He felt the man’s ligaments snap as he jerked the blade forward and up. The man let out a yelp as he fell. As soon as he hit the ground, Kirk’s left hand closed over the man’s mouth as his right drove the knife into the man’s left eye, silencing the screams.

  Kirk regained his feet and looked around to make sure there were no other threats. He saw the bridge was empty and dove under the car to retrieve his rifle. He wasted no time getting off of the bridge and slipping back into the trees on the north bank of the river. As he left the bridge, he wondered if it was a good thing that he had killed those three son-of-a-bitches or a bad thing that he had fed the rest of them.

  Clay sat under a large bush by the county road. He had the rest of the group packed and ready to go, hidden in a small thicket twenty yards away. Jimmy guarded their other side. Clay looked down at his watch. It was almost eleven. He had kept a sharp lookout for hours now, but Kirk hadn’t appeared. He almost shit himself when the Bob White whistle came from behind a tree less than ten yards from him. He almost panicked and brought his gun up, but calmed himself enough to give the corresponding whistle back. A dark figured moved out from behind the tree and into the moonlight streaming through the trees.

  “Holy shit, Kirk! How did you get that close without me seeing you?”

  “You got a lot to learn, brother.” Kirk said. Although he couldn’t see it, Clay heard the smile in Kirk’s voice. “Where are the others? We need to move. Now.”

  “What happened out there?” Scott asked as he brought the family out of the thicket.

  “Ran into three of them. They won’t be bothering us anymore.” Kirk said.

  “Was it bad?” Clay asked.

  Kirk didn’t know if Clay asked about the three men or what the militia was doing to the town. He answered the latter. “Remember your question about how to feed so many people?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re cannibals, Clay. I watched them butcher and cook up both their own dead and the dead townspeople.”

  “Holy shit.” Scott said.

  “Exactly.” Kirk replied. “That’s why we’re getting the hell out of here. The moon will give us enough light to see by. I want us across the river and on our way east by daybreak. This is going to be a long day. I don’t plan on stopping until we set camp tomorrow. Any questions?” No one spoke.

  As the group moved in the direction Kirk indicated, Sherry grabbed his arm. He spun to face her. They had been spending a good bit of time together since her mother’s death. She walked next to him on their hikes when she could and spent the last part of every evening talking and flirting with him. Kirk had proceeded cautiously with her. He knew that she had been through a lot over the last few weeks. He wanted to pursue her harder but held back out of fear of taking advantage of her. “Don’t you ever do anything so stupid, again!” She hissed at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Doing something so dangerous. Those men could have killed you! I just…” She turned away.

  “What?” Kirk asked as he gently turned her toward him.

  She reached up, grabbed his head, pulled it down to hers, and kissed him. After an intense couple of minutes, she disengaged and hugged him close, resting her head on his chest. “I can’t stand to lose you too.” She whispered.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t.” He knew it was a lie, but one she needed to hear. “Come on. Let’s catch up.”

  Kirk looked at the lightening sky some hours later. The last of the group had just crossed the bridge. He looked north at the soft colors of the fresh sky playing off of the ripples and waves of the river. He was tired. He knew his group was tired, but the gruesome sights he had seen in Owensboro drove him to keep moving. He saw the others watching him. He turned toward the rising sun and began walking. The others followed.

  Chapter 24

  “Goodbye, sweetheart. I’ll see you tonight.” Jenny said as she kissed Will on the cheek and left the bay that they had shared with her dad and Will’s mom for over two weeks. Will sat up and watched his wife leave as she began her walk to the hospital. Chuck and his mom had already left for the day. Because Will worked swing shifts on security, he had the day off and planned to visit some of the more interesting aspects of their new home. One of his first stops was a visit to Mr. Pae’s office.

  Will met Mr. Pae at last week’s city council meeting with the sheriff and the mayor. Normally, Will wasn’t included in the meetings. His boss, one of the sheriff’s deputies before the collapse, a man named Marcus Smith, usually attended the meetings since he was the town’s head of security. However, Will had been invited to update the council on the progress of their new urban combat training and a couple of Will’s suggestions for establishing a second defensive perimeter for the town. Mr. Pae was the town’s chief communications guy. According to the few folks Will had asked, Mr. Pae was something of genius when it came to radios and was responsible for the broadcast that had guided Will and his family to Celina. Will figured that he owed the man a thank you. He looked forward to spending some time with the man and hoped to learn some more about radios.

  Will stopped to check on the hallway water supply before he left. It was half full. It was his turn to get more water. He figured that he would fill it up later that afternoon so that it would be ready for the people coming back to the shelter that evening.

  As he walked along the road to the house Mr. Pae lived in, he saw Chuck and Barry walking behind a tractor, sowing seed on the last field to be planted. He waved at the men as he passed by. They returned the greeting and continued their work. Everyone in the group had found a job that suited them. Chuck and Barry assisted with the farming activities. Betty contributed by working in the child care and school the town had set up. Pam had found her place working in the kitchen. Joey helped manage the town supplies, and
George became part of the security detail with Will.

  Even after living here for over two weeks, Will still looked around in amazement. The town was gifted with almost perfect geographical conditions to handle all that had happened. It was far enough away from major population centers that it hadn’t suffered very many refugees or mass panic. It was defensible, being surrounded by a river to the west, north, and east. The mountains provided a natural barrier to the south. Only three roads led into town, one to the east and one to the west over the river and the road they had taken from the south. The sheriff had blocked and defended each one. The land enclosed by the river and the mountains was flat and provided a rich base for farming. Will supposed it was as perfect a place as you could ask for to spend the breakdown of civilization.

  Will passed by several of Celina’s wonders before he reached Mr. Pae’s place on the other end of town. The first thing that struck Will was the massive farming effort. They had planted every bit of land that could be harvested, except for a small strip to the north of town where a hundred head of cattle and about thirty horses lived. The supply folks had organized teams of people to milk the cows every day and had built a place to make cheese. They were also building antique-style farm equipment such as plows, carts, hay rakes, and other’s that Will didn’t know the purpose for, all designed to be pulled by the horses when the fuel ran out. Mr. Johnston, who had lived on a farm just outside of town before moving into Celina when everything went to hell, had set up some of his bee hives in various spots throughout the fields. One fellow had brought a portable sawmill with him when he moved into town. It ran on the east end of town where the town harvested the trees that grew inside the perimeter. Will could make out stacks of lumber that had been set out to cure. That lumber would become new houses and barns this fall. The scope of the efforts amazed Will.