STRYKER - OMNIBUS: BOOKS 3-5: A Post Apocalyptic Tale

by Bobby Andrews

  “I risk my life every day to save your honor, you stupid jerk. The only thing I never understood is why you do it.”

  Stryker shrugged. “Love.”

  “Love?”

  “Sure, why else would you do it?”

  “That needs more explanation.” She crossed her arms.

  “You go to school, you say the Pledge of Allegiance, and the man that raised you is a former marine who fought in WW II. You love your country, and your countrymen. You love your parents and the kids you grew up with. You love your wife and kids and you love the idea of taking away from them the ugly things in life that need to be dealt with, so you go off and deal with it.”

  “Is that it?”

  “No, you also love the men you fight with and you love the fact that nobody but you has to live through the horrors of combat. You also love the corps, you love the creed, you love what it made you and you love the fact that you are living up to a standard of conduct that few people could aspire to. In the end, you love the fact that you have your honor intact and that other people can die wondering if they lived a good life, but that will never be your burden. I guess, in a way, it is self-serving and greedy. I was willing to do anything to feel proud of myself and think I was on the right side of every fight. It’s harder to think that way now.”

  “That was a mouthful.” Erin looked away.

  “I know it sounds corny, but that’s the way I feel.”

  “So, what do you want to do now?”

  “I guess we go to Cabo and see if they are there.”

  “And if they’re not?”

  “I don’t know.” Stryker glanced away with a troubled expression.

  Erin looked at him for a moment. “You don’t want to get in another fight, do you?”

  “No,” he admitted.

  “And it’s because of me?”

  Stryker fought his own impulse to lie or temper the truth and decided it was not an honorable course. “Yes.”

  He looked away for a moment, and then back. “I was raised with no parents. They died when I was two and I have no memory of them. I’m not complaining about it, because my gramps and grandma raised me like their own, and they did a good job of it. At least I think so.”

  “I do too.”

  “I also lost my first wife and child.

  “I know; that must have hurt you badly.”

  “It did. I’ll never get over it.”

  “So, that is why you want to stop fighting and go home?”

  “It’s a big part of it.”

  “Do you think it is honorable?”

  “Well, that’s the rub, isn’t it?”

  Erin studied her man carefully. “Has it occurred to you that you fight for everyone but yourself?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, you came and got us away from the slavers.” Erin paused. “And I am very glad you did, but you really could have passed on that one.”

  “Your gramps asked me for help.”

  “Would it have mattered if it was anyone else you knew?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then you had to confront those bad guys at the market, and then it was the rogue navy guys, and then it was the ISIS group and then… are you getting the message here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now you’re fighting for Thomas and the navy. At what point, if you have to fight, will it be only for you, me and ours?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, that is a problem for you, isn’t it?” Erin pulled his face toward hers and looked him in the eye. “You need to understand that the whole world isn’t on your shoulders. But, at the same time, you can’t stop being what you are and feel good about yourself. I guess it’s a hard balance to achieve, but what I do know is that I don’t want to be the axis of your decision about how to live. I can take care of myself, and I will, but you need to get over making bad decisions based on what other people need from you – or what you think they need from you.”

  Stryker nodded and tucked his head into her shoulder. “It’s never easy.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.

  “I really don’t want to lose you and maybe our child.”

  “We can go back to San Diego, and you can park me there if you have to, but I am going to be scared the whole time you’re gone.”

  “I don’t want to do that to you.”

  “Well, as you like to say, ‘Life is a bitch and then you die.’ Make your choices and I can live with them. But you have to too.”

  “I hate it when you quote me.”

  “You are pretty quotable.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Is it my intellect that does that?”

  “No, you just happen to be right usually.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” he replied.

  “Get Jose to make us some food. Deep thought stuff is easier on a full stomach.” Erin giggled softly.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Huachinango a la Vera Cruzana,” Jose boasted as he presented a platter of fried fish, covered with tomato sauce and layered with chile, green olives, and grilled onion. “I told you I am a great cook. Here is the proof.”

  “What the hell is that?” Erin asked.

  “It’s Red Snapper in a tomato based sauce that comes from southeastern Mexico along the coast. It should be pretty good.” Stryker glanced at the plate with an open expression of hunger.

  “Dig in,” Erin said.

  Stryker used a fork and knife to pass a filet to her plate, and then a large serving spoon to ladle the sauce over the fish. He did the same with his own and waited for the rest of the food with the look of a hungry wolf on his face.

  Jose disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a steaming plate of napolitos. They were fried prickly pear stems, and if cooked correctly, had a tangy flavor and were crunchy.

  “I would eat the ass end of a skunk right now,” Stryker mumbled.

  Jose had found a skiff and spent the better part of the day anchored in the small bay to the east of the house with three poles sticking up from the boat. Stryker glanced his way every so often to make sure he hadn’t bugged out on them, but decided the man represented no threat.

  Stryker had spent close to three hours interrogating him the previous evening and concluded that he knew nothing that could help them in another battle with the drug gang, so Stryker let him go to a resort down the road to find more food for dinner before Jose decided to go fishing.

  Jose returned from the resort with four plastic bags; three filled with dried and canned goods, and the fourth filled with cactus stems. He disappeared into the kitchen and Stryker returned to reading a book he had found on the coffee table.

  The book was in Spanish and covered Mexican history from the fall of the Aztec empire to the early 1940s. He devoured it with the zeal of a convert, and Erin sat and watched in amazement as his hand flicked pages with ten second intervals. He was clearly totally engrossed and looked like somebody had built a wall between him and the rest of the world.

  “My God, that is the best food I have ever had in my life.” Erin pushed the plate to the center of the table.

  “No argument from me.” Stryker stabbed the last filet, set it on his plate, and then poured the remaining sauce over the fish.

  “I told you,” Jose mumbled between bites.

  Stryker finished his plate, and then settled back into his chair. He watched as Jose took his last bite and settled back as well.

  “You are a damn good cook.”

  “I know.” Jose looked back at Stryker with a look of expectation.

  “Okay, what do you want?”

  “I want to go with you. I don’t like the men I am with now and I always wanted to go to America anyway. There probably isn’t any border anymore, and I am tired of taking shit off all the men I cook for now. They aren’t nice people.”

  Stryker glanced at Erin, who nodded back at him.

  “I don�
��t see why not. We can always use a good cook and fisherman, but you do understand that we have to drive by the base again and if they confront us, they will see you as a traitor?”

  “I don’t care; I just don’t want to be around them anymore. They are not good people, and my mother always told me that you are known by your friends, not your enemies. I think you would be good friends.”

  “We are great friends, but you have to understand that we cannot guarantee anything. The base commander might not let you stay with us when we get back to San Diego.” Stryker looked at him with an expression of apology.

  “You are not in charge?”

  “No.”

  Jose looked confused and again glanced at Stryker before he spoke. “Why are you not in charge?”

  “Well, because I am not the commanding officer.”

  “You can accept that?”

  “Of course.”

  “That is very odd.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Erin turned south on Highway 53, and they entered the secondary road after passing yet another nameless village.

  The clouds were low in the sky and they moved through a windswept, shadowless landscape so stark it seemed almost as though they were traveling across the face of the moon. A few low bushes dotted the terrain, and the washes they passed were dry and looked as though compactors had been driven through them.

  The road was in poor condition, covered with potholes and, in places, crumbling shoulders of the pavement had apparently been washed away by hard rains.

  Erin slowed down and dodged the ruts and holes in the pavement. They were crawling along and the frustration on her face was increasingly apparent. “Why did we decide to take this road?”

  “If we stayed on Highway 1 it would have taken us to the east coast of the Baja, and then all the way back across the peninsula. It goes to La Paz and doubles back. It would have taken three times as long.”

  “It might have been three times as fast,” Erin complained, dodging yet another rut in the pavement.

  “It will get better,” Jose cheeped from the back seat.

  “How could you possibly know that?” Stryker asked.

  Jose’s expression grew sheepish. “I don’t really know; I just wanted to make her feel better.”

  “Thanks for that,” Erin replied dryly after glancing at Stryker.

  “No problem.” Jose grinned.

  They entered another small town, this one apparently larger as it had a sign announcing the name was “Todos Sandos.”

  “All saints,” Stryker interpreted automatically, after spending the better part of two days telling her what the signs meant in English.

  The municipality stretched along both sides of the highway which was really just two narrow ribbons of pavement. They went by yet another gas station and two small restaurants. Then they traveled through the downtown area and passed what looked to be some sort of government building with a battered Mexican flag on a low flagpole.

  In the distance, a partially completed hotel sat on the beach to the west. It gleamed in the sunlight and was built of modern building materials. However, it was missing doors and windows, had a fourth floor that was not finished, and construction materials still sat in piles around the building.

  When they exited the town’s border, the highway did get better and Erin was again able to make good time. “How much longer?

  “At this rate, we should be there before sundown.” Stryker did not stop his ceaseless appraisal of their surroundings, and his eyes continued to methodically scan the landscape around them.

  They sat on a rise that overlooked the town of Cabo San Lucas. Stryker got out of the vehicle and walked to a bluff that gave him a better view. Erin joined him, and Jose followed behind her.

  “My God, every time I see this I almost get goosebumps.” Stryker gazed down.

  Erin stared down at a town that seemed to unfold in layers. Its outer sections were covered with shacks and worn-down shops. As her gaze moved closer to town, and nearer the beach, the town assumed a look of formality, with lots laid out in neat grids and houses that looked prosperous.

  The demarcation point for the town was the area right before she saw the beach. There were hotels, resorts, large restaurants, and colorful cabanas made of wood with sheet metal roofs.

  To the far right, a marina was filled with sailboats and motor yachts, each looking big and elegant even though they were covered with dust and the pier itself was discolored.

  “What the hell is that?” Erin pointed toward a small tower of red rock that sat in the bays entrance.

  “They call that the ‘Arch of Cabo’.” Stryker gazed at the same formation. “There is a large hole through the center of it that we can’t see from here, but it is actually a cave without any interior to speak of, just a front and back entrance. So, it’s just a hole in a protruding rock that sits on the beach.”

  The view of the ocean was spectacular, and Stryker glanced over the water that fronted the beach. It was a brilliant emerald green close to the shore, where the coral formations and the water depth reflected the sunlight and turned the water into a brilliant color.

  But as the ocean grew deeper, the water gradually changed into the deep dingy blue color that he associated with open water ocean.

  “There’s the hotel.” Erin pointed at one of the many resorts that sat hunkered down on the beach.

  “Yes, it is.” Stryker was still staring at the water.

  “Are we going to go see if they are there?”

  “Sure.” Stryker continued looking at the ocean.

  “Is it going to happen anytime soon?”

  “Sure.”

  She frowned. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Have you ever seen anything prettier than this view?”

  “Well, I haven’t thought about it, but it is pretty.”

  Jose looked away, almost as though embarrassed. “It’s sad that such a beautiful country as Mexico has been condemned to the pendejaso of a government we had.”

  “It means a totally fucked-up, stupid government,” Stryker said automatically.

  “I think I got that.”

  “Good, than I can stop being the trained parrot?”

  “So, are we going to check the hotel?” Erin ignored the question.

  “We have to, so let’s get our asses down there and see what we can find out.”

  They all got back into the Humvee. Stryker drove down the hill, turned onto a side street, and passed numerous abandoned tourist shops, taco stands, restaurants, and liquor stores.

  Stryker pointed to his right as they passed a massive building that looked as though it was designed like a stealth aircraft. The sides were clever oblique angles and the entire structure was made of concrete.

  “That was the cultural center. I never have been inside, but the building is interesting looking.”

  “My wife and I went there on our honeymoon,” Jose peeped from the back seat.

  “Did you lose her to the plague?” Erin asked.

  “Yes, and the rest of my family.”

  “How many kids?”

  “Three.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  Stryker already knew the man posed no threat. He was convinced of that after his interrogation of him. It was clear that the gang members intentionally kept him in the dark because they didn’t trust him. His heart went out to Jose when he took a single glance in the rear view mirror and saw what he remembered to be his expression staring back at him from a mirror after the death of his first wife and child. For the first time, saw Jose as a man who actually was one of them. He had earned his admittance into the club with a single statement.

  They turned left and drove parallel to the beach, passing numerous resorts and restaurants, and then pulled under a portico in front of the hotel.

  “Well, I guess we go see if we can find our boys.” Stryker got out of the Humvee. He and Erin advanced on the building, both with weapon
s at the low ready, and Stryker waved her away from his side to create distance between them.

  Erin glanced back and saw Jose getting out of the back seat and following them at a distance.

  Stryker entered the lobby area and froze when he saw expended shell casings surrounding the entry. He motioned for Erin and Jose to stay outside, and then walked into the building on cat’s feet, with every sense honed to a sharp blade.

  The air was filled with the sickeningly putrid stench of death.

  He brought his carbine up and swept the area that surrounded the atrium he walked through and then lowered the muzzle and glanced around the lobby. Several sets of furniture sat in groups around the room. The floor was coated in a layer of fine dust, and footprints that tracked through the room indicated that someone had been there recently.

  A man lay in the middle of the lobby floor, partially hidden by a large couch. His body was riddled with gunshot wounds and he lay face down on the floor with a large stain of dried blood surrounding the body.

  He was clearly dead and decomposing.

  Stryker walked over to the body, turned it over, holding a hand over his mouth to stop the stench from reaching him, and saw the name tag on his blouse. An American sailor.

  He waved at Erin to take the right side of the room.

  She moved away and advanced through the lobby until her position was parallel to Stryker’s. He glanced behind him and saw Jose following him with his eyes wide and skin pale.

  Stryker placed his weapon next to the fallen American and patted down the body.

  Finding nothing, he motioned Erin forward, stood, and walked through the lobby.

  They entered the bar that sat to one side of the atrium, with Erin trailing him and Jose farther back.

  A man, probably a sailor, had been nailed to the wall behind the bar. He was naked. It would have been a crucifixion, but for the fact that he was not on a cross, but rather across the back wall of the bar with what appeared to be spikes nailed into his hands, arms, and legs.

  His genitals had been removed and his eye sockets were empty. His entire body was covered with angry looking red burn marks.