by Justin Bell
Winnie approached the horses, plastic bags in hand, offering some fistfuls of grass she’d picked from a local park on one of her excursions today. Food for the humans had been much harder to come by and she felt her stomach tightening like a clenched fist as she watched the horses munch on the grass eagerly, large square teeth clamping together over the bunches of green foliage.
“Get them fed, and then we’re just about ready to load up,” Phil whispered, coming up behind her. She nodded.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked.
Winnie shrugged. “Are we ever ready?”
Phil put a hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently. She let him pull herself close to him, hugging him with her opposite shoulder. It was an unusual acceptance of emotion from the teenager.
“You sure you’re okay?” Phil asked, turning his daughter to face him.
She looked down at the ground and nodded softly. “I’m just tired, Dad,” she breathed. “Tired of the fighting. The shooting. Tired of people dying.”
Phil blinked hard and drew a breath, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “I know, honey,” he whispered. “One last time, okay? Just one last time.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes wet. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t. But I can hope, can’t I? If we can get Lydia… if we can stop this attack. Maybe then we can find our own place. A place out in the wilderness, away from all of this. Grow our own food. Live off the land.”
“Like Elias?”
Phil couldn’t help but think the same thing. Their time at the farm had been tinged in misery, but at the core there was a sustainable lifestyle. A way to live and to survive. He hated to admit it, and would never do so out loud, but he found some things to admire about their time with the Unbound.
“No, not like Elias,” he replied. “Something different. Something better.”
“With the horses?” Winnie asked, smiling slightly.
“Definitely with the horses.”
Winnie nodded and turned toward the brown and white animal, running a careful hand down it’s long, muscular hide. Phil watched her for a few moments as she fed the mare another clump of grass and delicately rubbed the spine of the creature.
“That sounds good, Dad,” she replied, then she looked back at him. “Do you promise?”
“Promise?”
“Do you promise that if we get Lydia back… if we stop this attack, then we’ll do what you say? We’ll take the horses and find someplace quiet? Away from the cities?”
“I promise,” Phil replied, unsure if it was a promise he could actually keep. There was a small nugget of guilt buried deep within him as he made the uncertain obligation, but he continued the facade, for her sake if nothing else.
“How are things coming?” Rhonda asked, coming toward them. The low clatter of weapons checks echoed softly in the distance.
“We’re getting along. Horses are almost fed, we’re about ready to roll.” Phil spoke calmly and evenly, keeping his eyes on his daughter as she continued feeding the creatures.
Rhonda nodded, sensing the careful choices of words that Phil was using. Max followed close behind her, walking up to join the group.
“What do you think, big man?” Phil asked, lightening his voice.
“I think we need to go find Brad and Lydia,” Max replied firmly.
Rhonda smiled at Max, then looked over at Phil and Winnie. “I’m thinking that I feel very lucky that we’re all here together, no matter what happens next.”
Winnie halted her feeding and looked over. Rhonda was looking back at them, a warm smile on her face.
“There are a lot of people out there who don’t have anyone,” she said. “No family, no friends. No one. Somehow, some way, over the past few months, we’ve all managed to stay together and stay alive, and we may be close to getting Lydia back, too.”
“Do you think so, Mom?” Max asked.
Rhonda nodded. “Yeah, buddy, I really do. We’re in a good place, as tough as it might be to think that right now. Things could be a lot worse for the Fraser clan.”
“Are Grandma and Grandpa really involved in this whole thing?” Winnie asked.
The question stabbed at Rhonda, harder than she might have thought, though she realized it wasn’t her daughter’s intention. “You know, sweetie,” she replied, “I don’t know for sure, but it’s possible.”
“So what happens if we find them there?” Max asked.
Rhonda thought for a moment. “We do what we need to do,” she finally said. “We do what’s right.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Winnie replied.
“It’ll be hard, I know,” Rhonda said, her voice croaking with emotion. “Maybe the hardest thing we’ve had to do, and we’ve had to do plenty of hard things.”
“If they’ve got Brad,” Max said, his voice steady and even, “I’ll do whatever I need to.”
Phil pressed his hand into the tousled mop of his son’s hair, actually uncovered by his trusty hat for once.
“Dang, what’s with all the super serious faces over here?” Tamar asked, walking up to the group. Winnie smiled widely and walked over to him as he neared them. Phil watched her approach Tamar and couldn’t help but smile at the young lady his daughter had suddenly become.
“Just getting our game faces on, champ,” Phil replied.
“This going to be a bad one?” Tamar asked, his expression hardening somewhat.
“They’re all bad ones,” Rhonda replied.
“I hear that.”
“It’s almost time,” Rebecca said, coming over to the group. Angel was just behind her, with Pietro and Julie bringing up the rear.
“I think we’re ready,” Rhonda replied. “Horses are fed. They probably ate better than we did.”
“I’m starving,” Max complained.
“Maybe they’ve got some chow at this warehouse, boss,” Tamar said. “Pop some caps, then grab some Cheetos. It’s a win-win.”
Rebecca turned toward Swift and Jacques. “Any reason to change our plan?” she asked.
Julie shook her head. “None. We ride to the intersection south of the parking lot and tie the horses, then move in on foot. Tamar, Max and Winnie, you guys hit the alley for surveillance. Phil, Fields and Menendez, you guys flank west. Jacques, Rhonda, and me, we flank east.”
“Three gunshots the signal,” Max said.
“Three gunshots the signal,” Swift replied.
“Let’s hope the guards are still bunched up on that loading dock,” Jacques said.
“Sounds like we’re ready,” Rhonda said. “Let’s load up and move out.”
***
Even though she grew up in Texas, Rebecca Fields didn’t spend a whole lot of time around horses, but she had to admit she felt exhilarated. Pinned low to the horse’s body, fingers tangled in the coiled mane of the steed’s hair she couldn’t help but smile as the wind beat at her, the horse hooves galloping along the pavement of the Philadelphia city streets. The SIG battle rifle bounced rhythmically against her back as the beast charged, weaving around parked cars and ducking between buildings as she guided it the short distance toward the warehouse.
On her right, Winnie and Tamar reared up on their horse, galloping wildly, but in control. It was an amazing sight with riders on horseback loping through the normally busy city streets, wild creatures bracketed against the stoic industrial shapes of looming buildings and street signs.
Rhonda tilted right, angling her horse up a short flight of stairs, then the creature leaped off, lunging into the air and clearing a bench on the sidewalk before landing gracefully in the road and continuing its swift forward progress.
“Take a right up here!” Angel shouted from behind Rebecca, his arms clinging around her waist. He’d been in charge of memorizing the map and navigating from the rear of the animal since his shoulder was still too weak to control one of the beasts himself. Under the cloak of darkness the horses charged, hooves clapping, breath snorting from fl
aring nostrils, the riders clinging low and tight, willing themselves into obscurity under the cloudy indigo of evening.
Navigating by starlight, Angel spoke into Rebecca’s ear. “Left! Then two blocks ahead, then right!”
Fields nodded and whipped her arms shouting a low “Hyah!” in the horse’s ear. The creature followed its instructions and picked up the pace, muscle and sinew grinding together beneath the slick hide, legs pumping and running faster than seemed naturally possible. Within seconds they’d moved the two blocks and Rebecca leaned wide to the right, guiding her mount the same way, angling it around the corner and down the narrow alley.
“One block ahead, then stop!” Angel hissed. A few long, loping gallops covered that one block and Fields lunged back, tugging on the horse’s fine, long hair, twisting slightly. With a soft neigh, the steed reared up and halted its frantic pace, snorting as it pounded both front hooves back down on the asphalt just as the other creatures pulled up around it, stopping in the same frenzied manner. It was a whirlwind of motion for a moment, but after a very short time the creatures all settled and slowly each rider swung their leg from their curved back, dropping down into the road in low, quiet crouches.
“Tie ‘em up, quick, quick,” Rhonda breathed as she moved her horse toward a bike rack on the sidewalk, a few feet away from a chain link fence. Wordlessly the rest of the group took rope and gently tied the horses to whatever points they could find, trying to be calm and quiet, keeping the beasts from getting spooked and avoiding alerting anyone at the warehouse the short distance away as well.
Rhonda removed the duffel bag from around her shoulders and set it on the ground, looking at everyone in the group. “Move quick and quiet,” she whispered. “Take the mags, take the ammo, only take what you can carry and what you need.” Like a well-orchestrated theater production, the other members of the crew swept in and gathered their ammunition, stuffing it in any spare pockets they could, moving quick and organized.
Angel nodded to Rhonda, holding up his M4 Carbine. “Rhonda, you take this. Becky’s got the battle rifle, you need a little extra firepower on your side.”
Rhonda shook her head. “You keep it.” She reached into the duffel and pulled out the Baretta ARX automatic assault rifle and Angel smirked.
“Didn’t even know you still had that bad boy.”
“I’m full of secrets.” Rhonda slammed the magazine home and nodded, then glanced over at Julie and Pietro. “We’re on the west flank. You two ready?”
“Always ready,” Jacques replied. Rhonda narrowed her eyes at Phil. “Stay safe,” she said, then walked over to the group of kids. She dropped into a crouch, clasping her hand around Max’s shoulder, her eyes moving from him to Winnie, then to Tamar. “You kids take care of yourselves. I know we’ll only be a block apart, but play it smart like you have been this whole time. I trust you.”
Max nodded firmly. He lifted the Glock, though he was more comforted by the cool steel of the Smith and Wesson in his shoulder holster.
Winnie and Tamar both looked at her, not making any specific affirmative gesture, but acknowledging the sentiment. They both held pistols as well, though Rhonda hoped they wouldn’t even be using them.
Rebecca walked over to Rhonda, her SIG 716 strapped to her shoulder, bobbing lightly.
“Are you ready?” she asked looking at Rhonda, and Rhonda nodded.
“Ready as we’ll ever be.”
“See you on the other side.” Fields turned and began walking away.
“Rebecca?” Rhonda called after her quietly.
Fields turned and glanced over her shoulder.
“My daughter might be in there,” Rhonda said. “And Brad.”
Rebecca nodded. “We’ll be careful.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Fields flashed a crooked grin, a shock of red hair spilling over her shoulder. “We tough chicks gotta stick together, huh?”
“Absolutely,” Rhonda replied, lifting the assault rifle.
They exchanged no other words, Rhonda turning away and walking back, joining Swift and Jacques near the building on the east side. She looked at the kids one last time and Max flashed her a thumbs up before entering the alley. Winnie and Tamar moved along behind him.
Rebecca peeled away and joined up with Angel and Phil, walking off toward the west side of the opposite building, rounding the corner and moving toward the warehouse parking lot.
“Angel. Phil. Are we all on the same page here?” Rebecca asked, looking from one man to the other. “We could be going up against some serious firepower here. These guys are Ironclad, at the very least. Tamar mentioned possible Koreans. We need to be ready.”
Looking down at his M4, Angel then lifted his eyes back to Rebecca, his face firm. “I’m ready.”
Phil mimicked the motion, but he just had a pistol clutched in his fingers, a nine-millimeter Heckler & Koch USP, and he narrowed his eyes at it, trying to remember where it had even come from. The firefights all seemed to blend together, a conjoined, twisting cacophony of fire, smoke, and noise, even as he thought back over the months, each one seemed to bleed into another. As he tried to remember this specific weapon, it was as if he had been in the middle of a three-month gunfight, and the realities of the situation they were now facing settled down upon him. His eyes glared at the pistol, but his vision clouded somewhat, eyesight blurring, the black gunmetal object smearing into obscurity.
“Phil?”
He snapped his head up, his eyes wide and alert. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m ready.”
Rebecca looked at him with concern, an unsettled feeling wrapping around her insides.
“Need you on top of your game, Phil,” she said. “It could be your daughter’s life in the balance.”
Phil’s mouth narrowed to a thin line, and the slits of his eyelids pulled down into sharp angles. “I understand,” he said. “I’m ready.”
Rebecca nodded. “All right then. Get in your places, wait for the signal.”
“Three gunshots?” Angel asked.
She nodded. “Three gunshots.”
The time was here.
***
Max pressed his back against the brick wall, holding the Glock in his right hand as he moved, knees bent, step over step, sliding quietly in the shadows of the looming building at his back. He could see the warehouse parking lot from where he was, or at least a narrow square of it, and even from this perspective he could start to make out the shuffling shapes of gunmen on the loading dock. Pale white light shone down from street lamps scattered throughout the parking lot, a fact that surprised Max. As he drew closer, he could hear the low rattle of a gas-powered generator, a mechanical growl from the darkness, somewhere along one of the walls of the warehouse ahead. The lights flickered briefly, a sporadic lapse of power as the engine ebbed then ramped back up and the lights brightened again.
He looked back at Tamar and Winnie. “Generator,” he whispered. “They may have lights all over the place so be careful.”
The other two kids nodded, then fell in line as he headed back toward the mouth of the alley. Although he was the youngest of the three on surveillance, he had just assumed the small leadership role, and neither of the other two appeared to have any issues with that. Max had taken to his place in this new world surprisingly seamlessly for reasons unknown to everyone, including himself.
Taking several short steps, the young boy turned around the cap on his head so the Rockies logo was pointing behind him, his thick locks of curly brown hair thrusting out from underneath the fabric. Wrapping his fingers around the corner of the brickwork, he eased his way forward, looking out over the warehouse parking lot.
His breath caught in his lungs.
The parking lot was empty.
“Tamar,” he whispered, turning back to the other two. He jerked his head, signaling the other boy to come toward him, and Tamar obeyed, keeping low to the ground and walking softly.
“Didn’t you say there were trucks? And a Humve
e?”
Tamar nodded, then moved up next to the boy. “They’re gone,” he hissed. “They were right there.”
“They’re gone?” Winnie asked, moving up next to the other two.
“Careful, Win,” Max hissed. “Still got some sentries roaming around.” He jerked his head toward the warehouse and Winnie noticed three black-garbed gunmen standing in a small throng, talking to each other.
“More that way,” Tamar said, pointing with the barrel of his pistol and Max followed the direction, seeing another cluster of men by the west side of the dock.
“There may be some inside the warehouse, too,” Winnie said.
“The real question is,” Max said, “is Brad still in there? Or Lydia?”
“Or the bombs?”
Max glared out over the parking lot, his eyes shifting from one group to another. He could picture the two assault teams taking their positions at the east and west, and figured they’d had just enough time to get situated.
“We need to move on this,” he hissed. “Right now.”
Winnie and Tamar brought their weapons out, clutching them both in two hands, lifting up into firing stances. Tamar pinned his back to the west wall, just behind where Max crouched, while Winnie pinned hers to the east, across from him. They interlocked their fingers around the handles of their pistols, holding them pointed down at the asphalt as Max lifted his Glock. He sighted the weapon on the cluster of sentries straight ahead, wanting to get some side benefit to firing off the three-shot signal.
“Get ready,” he whispered.
His finger pulled and the Glock kicked in his hand, barking loud and short, once, twice, three times. Gunshots roared and echoed in the dimly lit night, rolling up into the cloud-clogged sky.
Then, chaos.
