“Just over half.”
“Goddamnit, man. How’s that possible?”
Thunder scratched his belly as he shrugged. “Some people rolled in here on fumes. Others siphoned the gas off for the scouting vehicles, even the motorcycles. Not many thought past their own escape.” The wheels on the back of a pickup spun, and a family drove away. Every man for himself now. Steele wondered how many people would still be at Little Sable if they had gas.
Steele shook his head in disgust. “We can’t haul the food trailer without at least one semi.”
“No, but we can start loading up the backs of the campers and pickups.”
He looked out over the protective ring of vehicles. “Find the fuel; I don’t want to leave anything behind. I’m going to talk to the volunteers. Reconvene in about thirty.”
“You got it.” Thunder slogged off toward his motley crew of bikers.
Steele spied Max standing nearby looking more scared than anything else. Max held his gun in his hands, his face twitching under the stress.
“Max, grab the rest of the volunteers and have them meet me by the lighthouse.
“Ye-e-es, sir,” Max gave a weak salute and ran off, almost tripping over himself. I’m not sure I can handle his death on my head. He’s only a kid. A kid who wanted to fight.
Steele paced near the lighthouse, his M4 slung around his front. Max arrived with Steve in tow. Moments later Margie arrived, holding her bolt-action hunting rifle along with long-haired Gregor and Hank. Hank looked exhausted from the effort. Bengy stood with his M1 Garand held in one hand. The old man appeared unafraid, revealing not even a sliver of doubt.
“Where’s Nathan and Jason?” Steele addressed the whole group but stared at Max. His responsibility was to find the volunteers and bring them in.
“I-I, couldn’t find them,” Max said.
“I gave you one fucking task and you couldn’t even do that,” Steele shouted at him. Max’s cheeks reddened and he stared at the ground. Steele took a moment to calm himself. What good am I doing yelling at the boy? Can I actually blame anyone for running? We will all be dead in an hour anyway.
“It’s not your fault.” Max looked up, relief washing over his features. “You’re fine, kid.”
“We’re here,” Nathan shouted. His dark skin contrasted greatly with Jason’s pale complexion. They hustled in and took their places amongst the rest.
“Thanks for showing up,” Steele said, hoping his unhappiness was conveyed by the tone of his voice. The volunteers shifted anxiously on their feet. People ran to and fro as they tried to gather all their belongings. What do you got, Steele? A ragtag, half-trained group of scared people.
“When you volunteered to defend Little Sable Point, you knew it wasn’t to only defend against the dead.” He locked eyes with each person in turn, making sure everyone knew he spoke the truth.
“You knew that someday, some prick was going to come down that road and try to take what’s yours, harm your loved ones, and leave you for dead. It’s inevitable. It’s unfortunate. But you’re ready,” he said. His volunteers looked at one another, a fraction of pride overcoming their fears. He adjusted his neck to hide his lie and continued.
“The people that are going to come down that road are fanatics. They have perverted their religion so much that if you don’t join them, they will murder you. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sit right with me. They don’t sit right with me. I’ll be damned if they harm a single person in this community.” He stopped in front of Max, dusting off the boy’s jacket.
Max watched his every move in wonderment with wide eyes, eating up his words.
“There’s going to be a lot of them. They’re going to have guns. It will be loud and people will die, but we have an advantage. We know where to hide. We will fight and run, fight and run if we have to until everyone is safely on the road. Little Sable will live on.”
Max cheered loud, raising his rifle in the air. Everyone looked at the goofy teenager. He looked momentarily ashamed by his own outburst. “I’m wi-ith you,” he said.
“It seems like the only way,” Margie said to the group. The men nodded, grim determination settling on their features. They were stronger together.
“We aren’t alone. The Red Stripes are still here. They will fight.” A glimmer of hope danced among their eyes.
“Jason, you hop up in the lighthouse with Trent. Take a deer rifle. If things kick off, aim for the guys that look important. The rest of you buddy up and spread out. Remember, when the shooting starts, you hide behind wheel wells and engine blocks. Anything else bullets will go through. This isn’t the movies.” He left out the part about how some bigger rounds would go through those too.
“If you see something, sound the alarm,” he said and marched off to find Thunder.
***
Two hours later, Steele leaned on a pickup truck waiting for Ahmed to come ripping down the road on his motorcycle. Then the fight would be on. But so far, everything was quiet. He snatched up his M4 and silently patrolled along the perimeter. People packed and prepped their vehicles for departure.
Steele walked past Margie, who was crouched against a car. He squatted down next to the gray-and-auburn haired woman.
“You need some water?” he asked, offering her a water bottle.
She gave him a side glance and shook her head. “I’m good, Captain.” Her eyes flitted back out toward the line of trees facing the perimeter of vehicles.
He put the water back in his cargo pocket. “You know I’m not a captain, right?”
She only addressed him for a second from the corner of her eye. “I know you aren’t, dear. But the boy, Max. He hangs on every word you say like it came from God himself. He adores you and needs a hero to believe in to get him through this.” The woman, about the same age as his mother, smiled sadly at him, her cheeks quivering a bit.
“You understand?” she asked as if he were a young man.
He gave her a slight nod.
“Let the boy idolize in peace and don’t be so damn hard him. He’s had it bad enough.”
Steele sighed. “You’re right. I’m trying to show him that being a man isn’t something you just become one day. It’s not a number. It’s something that goes deeper. It’s your commitment to your fellow man and your drive to do right conditioned through discipline to oneself.” He took his turn looking out the barricade into the beach-like field before them. Dead yellow grass lay flat before the long line of trees. A road cut through the trees. Even now, they could be winding down the road to reach Little Sable Point or stalking through the trees. No, the pastor wouldn’t sneak. It’s not in his modus operandi. He has God on his side, and he will come with the full fervor of assured victory and guaranteed salvation. When it’s time, we will send him along to find his salvation.
The touch of her hand against the side of his face startled him. Margie’s brown eyes stared into his. “I see hope in you. You’ve given us something, even if it’s a chance to die with a bit of dignity.”
He ground his teeth, looking down before he answered. “You won’t die,” he said, blue eyes blazing. “We’ll live.”
“I know, Captain.” She let her eyes fall back on the field.
“Keep a look out, volunteer,” Steele said. He stood back up and marched back down the sparse line. He nodded to Gregor. The long-haired brute nodded back, his gun laid out on the hood of a truck. Steele’s feet padded the sandy ground, squishing as he walked. He was stuck in his troubled thoughts before Thunder’s hefty frame waved him down, half-running his way.
“We’re going to have to stash the food to run. Not enough fuel for Bessie’s semi.” His eyes read Steele, looking for chinks in his armor. If Steele broke, the Red Stripes were gone without a backward glance.
“Your boys don’t look like they would take well to siphoning anyway.” Best to laugh away your misfortune.
Thunder cracked a smile. “No, they wouldn’t.
“That food’s imp
ortant. We don’t have much to stand on without it. Make sure to keep Bessie in the loop. I don’t want her thinking we robbed her.”
“She’s onboard and there’s enough,” Thunder said.
Steele nodded. “Me and volunteers will man the perimeter while you and your club load up some of the pickups. How long you need?”
“About an hour.”
Steele eyed the sky. The sun was cascading west toward the lake like a slow meteor. “It’ll be dark by then. You think we should risk it?”
“I don’t think we have a choice.”
“I got this feeling that the noose is tightening every moment we stay here.”
“I feel it too. It’s time to roll. I’ll give a holler when we’re ready,” Thunder said.
“Stick to the plan, Thunder.” Steele’s eyes read the man. Can I trust you to not cut and run? We can only do this with you.
Thunder nodded. “You can count on us.” The older man’s eyes looked through Steele as if he were only seeing a transparent screen door.
Steele bowed his head and jogged over to Tess’s dingy off-white camper. Kevin sat outside, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. “We’re getting close. How is she?”
“Haven’t heard a peep.” Kevin wavered and leaned closer to Steele, whiskey hanging on his breath. “Don’t tell her I told you, but Gwen’s in there too.” Kevin raised his eyebrows and burped out the side of his mouth.
“Shit.” Both in there at once. Jesus. “Thanks, buddy,” he said quickly.
“You’re welcome, Cap’in,” Kevin slurred with a fake salute.
“Grab Red Rhonda and get this thing hitched. We’re leaving soon.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Kevin stood up, wobbling for a moment while he kept himself from tipping over.
“Can you even drive?” Steele said.
“Always drive a bit better with some booze in me.”
Steele snorted and stopped short of opening the door. This may be the most dangerous door I walk through. His hand hovered over the round door handle. He hesitated to walk into whatever potential hailstorm of womankind that awaited him. I’d rather face armies of the dead. I know what I get with them. These two? He gulped.
He stepped inside the musty smelling camper. He expected an ambush of insults, evil looks, and jeers. With a bit of hesitation, he put one tentative foot over the other. When he looked up, the two women saw him. Tess peered at him from beneath her blankets. Gwen sat on the edge of her bed holding a bottled water. Both sets of eyes watched him. These two sitting together? I can’t believe the universe hasn’t imploded in on itself.
He stood in the aisle of the camper. “Hi there, ladies. How you feeling?” he asked passively.
“We’re fine,” the women answered in unison. They gave each other a knowing look of accepted rivals. Tess sat up and Gwen handed her the water. Tess gave her a smile and Gwen returned it. What do they have, some sort of ceasefire? I don’t want to know what happened here. The only thing a ceasefire means is they have found a common enemy. Me.
“I’m glad you’re both feeling better.”
“Any word on leaving?” Gwen asked.
“Thunder is getting the food from Big Bessie into some pickups. When they’re loaded, the camp moves.”
“What about the pastor?” Tess said and coughed into her hand.
“We’ve got the volunteers set up and ready to cover our retreat if need be. Shouldn’t be more than an hour,” he said.
“Our packs are in the corner,” Gwen said, face unmoving, a statue of an ancient Greek goddess. She can’t possibly know about the kiss. I didn’t even do it. I was a victim of a forced osculation.
“You guys can stay with me while we travel,” Tess said. Her eyes were pure amusement, and he squirmed under their gaze. “I think it’s important for the co-leaders of this community to have easy access to one another.”
“I agreed with her and said we would talk it over,” Gwen added.
They are trying to murder me with stress. Steele scratched his beard, thinking for a way out of this conversation that was clearly a trap to make him say something wrong. The faint sound of Red Rhonda idling nearby was his savior. Kevin, you’re a gift from God.
“That must be Kevin. I’m going to help him get this thing hitched up.”
Their eyes didn’t move much, neither indicating pleasure or heartbreak at his departure. He darted out of the camper. Red taillights glowed brightly in the dusk, shining light on a red pickup. Kevin’s head stuck out from the driver’s side.
“Where do you want this thing?” Kevin yelled.
Steele waved him back. The truck angled sideways, missing the hitch.
“Stop,” Steele yelled. The pickup jerked as Kevin hit the brake. A few more inches and he would have rammed the camper. “Hold up. Start over. It’s crooked.”
Kevin stuck his head out of the window. He looked backward trying to figure out his angle. “Sorry,” he yelled.
“Drunk ass,” Steele said under his breath. “Second times a charm,” he yelled forward at Kevin. The truck revved forward and the taillights flicked on again, shining red and glowing white. Steele waved him back.
A loud pop sounded off. For a moment, Steele thought it might be a tire exploding or the pickup backfiring. Steele eyed the tailpipe of the pickup.
“Jesus, Rhonda,” he said. He waved his hands at Kevin. “Stop. Stop. Start it again,” Steele said, holding a hand in the air. Two more pops echoed out in the night. Confused, Steele looked back to the entryway of Little Sable Point. Headlights beamed, gleaming away the night. Trucks bounced down the road.
“Kevin. Get this thing hitched,” Steele mumbled. He found himself running for the entrance as gunfire kicked off. The rumble of motorcycles vibrated the air like rolling thunder.
Holding the M4 in his hands, he sprinted. His feet pounded the sand. I knew it. I knew it. But surprise still crushed him as he approached the impromptu community gate. The pickups that normally sat in place had been rolled to the side. The last motorcycle sped past, joining the swarm of crimson midnight bees quickly disappearing around the bend in the road.
A person lay in the sand. Margie held his head up, her hand pressing firmly on his chest.
“What happened?” Steele shouted at her. She cradled Steve in her arms. You know but you refuse to see.
Margie looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “They killed him. He wouldn’t let them leave with all the food, and they shot him for it,” she sobbed, shaking her head. Blood oozed from between her fingers as she tried to hold his blood in.
“Who shot him?” The plan. All my men were too spread out to help.
“The Red Stripes.”
KINNICK
Dunluce Pass, CO
Skinny pine trees clustered all over the rocky, tawny landscape. The pass was near the top of a mountain, and the elevation was far above sea level. They seemed to be closer to the sky. The site for the battle had been unknowingly picked by a railroad company in the late 1800s. The company had dynamited and carved a path over and through the mountain in an effort to connect the profitable coasts of the United States.
The brown rocky rooftops of other mountains stood tall in the distance. The taller ones were capped in white snow. The mountains were divided by a natural split formed by water millions of years in the past.
Kinnick stood in the center of the road that they were to hold. Dirt and dust had settled upon it as cars stopped using it. The road was long and led down the mountain, hugging its sides the entire way. No rail prevented cars from going over the edge. The other side of the roadway was a rocky hill leading only up. Determined evergreens clung to the hillside like stubborn, bent old men.
“Reminds me a bit of Afghanistan,” Hunter said. He spat black juice from his mouth, splashing a rock and leaving residual spit on his boots. “Aside from the paved road.”
Kinnick eyed the roadway. The last bit of it he could see rounded a bend, zagging across and back down the mountain.
Hunter took in the land. “It’s kinda fucked up thinking that we’ve been doing all this fighting and dying here instead of some shithole foreign country.”
Kinnick sighed. “That’s why we’re here. To make sure this country stays in one piece.”
Hunter smirked. “Don’t want California floating off on us.”
“Floating off would be better than nuking it.”
Two days had passed since the barricade of Eisenhower Tunnel. They had destroyed all the infected on the eastern side of the tunnel. They had reinforced the tunnel with a host of trucks stacked in a massive line across the entrance.
The smell at the tunnel was so bad and the men so tired, they dug in and slept on the ridge the first night. It took them another full day to ruck to Dunluce Pass. Kinnick’s legs were so sore he could hardly walk. He settled for a painful hobble to get around.
Kinnick estimated the distance of the stretch of road until the bend before it fled behind tall hills.
“How far do you think it is to the bend?”
“Eh, about four hundred yards.”
Kinnick nodded. “Plenty of good firing lines.”
The grade in the roadway incline was shallow, but the steep rocky hillside leading up from the road provided good protection from the infected as far as he could tell.
Hunter pointed to the hill above the dusty road. “Good ambush positions.” Then he pointed low. “Nothin’ ’cept a billygoat could get up that way. It’s an ideal position.”
The infected would either take the road back from the living or be stuck. “A bottleneck with no alternative way through the mountains en masse,” Kinnick said with a nod.
His men stood nearby. His leaders on the eve of the coming battle. Elwood stood with a slight hunch, helmet under his arm. His platoon sergeant, Sergeant 1st Class Putnam stood a step behind him. In his early thirties, Putnam looked likely to give Stark a run for his money in a liftoff. Next to him was Sergeant Matthews, thinner with the look of a long distance runner.
The End Time Saga Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 104
