Refugee Road (Freedom Fighters Series Book 1)

by Landis, Nikki

  I ate every bite, supremely happy to be so full for once. Usually the constant gnaw of hunger ached in my belly on a daily basis. We had lean times around here when we couldn’t find supplies…or steal them from the militia. We learned to ration but in times of abundance we got extra portions. I thanked God silently for the peaches and left the pit.

  I went to the shooting range first. I practiced my aim for a while, careful not to waste too much ammo. Then I ran the collision and training course, trying to beat my best time. It was a little slow. I decided to blame it on the peaches.

  Still bored, and not yet tired, I ran for five miles. We had a great path here, secluded and far from enemy eyes. It was even outdoors. We had camouflaged it perfectly. From above it looked like old trees and abandoned forest, but netting covered the trails where branches, leaves, and other natural debris hid the view from above, a good eight feet high.

  The whole mountainside was camouflaged this way. Carefully arranged so that it looked only like damaged and rotting forest and mountainside to the casual eye, with only one viable entrance, collapsed and unusable. It wasn’t of course, but that was the beauty of it. We were very well concealed.

  As I ran, I remembered the first time I saw it. I had been skeptical until Darren led me through the hidden entrance. Once on the inside, I realized this place was huge. It was an old militia base, fully functional, fully capable and modernized, and stored plenty of weapons, ammunition, unused bombs, and old planes, etc. It ran on a generator that renewed its power from the sun. We were self-sustaining here. Some of the items were impractical for our use but it served our purpose.

  The base even had clean water and showers, soldier’s quarters with bunks, a gymnasium, a swimming pool, and more. The only issue was food. We had a greenhouse which gave us vegetables and grains and we used an old shelter for a slaughter house and dairy barn. Still, it was hard to grow things after all of the bombing. The soil never quite recovered.

  Mostly, we lacked fruits and variety. It could be the same meals for weeks on end if the pickings were slim. There was plenty of hunting for game but we weren’t always lucky enough to get pork and chicken and beef. There was a lot of venison, quail, and duck, whatever could be found. I wouldn’t eat squirrel or snake. It was too much to ask. My favorite was peanut butter. I hoarded any jars I found.

  We held regular drills. Emergency procedures were constantly practiced by everyone, regardless of rank. The most important emergency was a code yellow. It meant we were being traced and had to be quiet. It happened from time to time. The night Darren held me and told me to be quiet was one of them. The militia often used this tactic to find our hidden bases. They would use radar or satellite to track us.

  It was nineteen forty five, at least, we had never moved past it. The air raids and bombings had started world war three. Hitler had surrendered, only to be killed by a large mob on the way to prison. Leadership all over the world had faltered. No one was capable. No one could bring peace talks together. Decades later nothing had changed or improved. And so unending war, famine, and destruction ruled the world. At the top of it all was the militia.

  The most lethal, the most cunning, and the most ruthless enemy of the war was the militia. They led in death toll. They ruled with fear. They destroyed and pillaged wherever they went. Any who would not succumb or bend their will were taken down. Immediately. Death or rehabilitation. Accept indoctrination. Swear fealty.

  Life wasn’t that bad here. There were some rules that were enforced strictly but they had to be. People needed guidance. They needed routine. Lights out from ten p.m. until six a.m. It was mandatory. No radios or noise of any kind during those hours. This helped to prevent detection from those radar frequencies and satellites at night. There was also no fraternizing in personal quarters during that time. No exceptions. Those were the biggest rules. There were others but they were minor.

  Rules were enforced quickly and harshly. Punishments were carried out with a swiftness that often surprised the offenders. Darren was a stickler for the rules. He became very angry and offended when someone broke them. I’ve only seen him lose his temper twice, and both times were when he was handing out discipline. The punishments varied; I saw everything from reduced food rations to flogging.

  I continued my run, thankful for a place to call mine and a bed to rest my head every night. Some had way less than I did. Many had nothing at all. I would not starve or lay in the cold. My comforts kept me strong and able to continue my fight. It was enough. Not everything, but good enough. And now, in this uncertain and war ravaged world, enough was the best you could hope for.

  Chapter Five

  “Lizzie! Hey, Lizzie, wait up.” Darren’s voice shook me from my thoughts.

  I slowed down and turned around, watching him as he ran my way. I stopped, needing a break anyway. I hadn’t spoken to him since that morning when I left his room. Preoccupied with my many thoughts, I had been too busy. Kind of.

  “Hi Darren, what’s up?” I asked, slightly out of breath.

  He smiled when he reached me. “How do you manage to run without breaking a sweat?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “I sweat. I don’t think you want to get too close. I need a shower.”

  He laughed. “Maybe…never mind. Bad path…wandering thoughts. So, I need to go on a quick supply run. We are low on medicine, specifically antibiotics. I’m only taking a few people. Low threat, minimal exposure. Want to come?”

  I grinned. “Do you have to ask? I can leave now.”

  “I figured.” He stood there grinning like a freak. “Let’s get back and join the others.”

  We walked in silence and he took my hand, holding it as if this was perfectly normal behavior and he had done it a million times before. He hadn’t. Not like this. It meant something different now. I felt a little uneasy but didn’t let go. I still felt obligated to him for caring for me when I was ill. Not to mention the way he had saved me after I lost my mother and sister.

  Obligation was a funny and desperate emotion. It made you act falsely. It made you follow through with actions that normally never happen, all in the name of gratitude. That debt had to be paid, whether you wanted to or not, because it ate at you, festered like a sore, until the situation was resolved. Until the debt was paid. That’s how I felt with Darren.

  The supply run was going to take a good portion of the day. It would be nightfall before we returned to camp. If things got tricky or if we were followed, we may not make it back tonight. There was always a plan B. Secrecy was important. We had to avoid detection at all costs. I didn’t care how long we were gone. No pressure for me. This was all on Darren’s shoulders.

  I loved these spur of the moment supply runs. It broke up the monotony. The truth was that it took all of the pressure off my objective and I was able to relax, just a little. The focus wasn’t on wiping out the enemy but on stealth. It was a game. Of chance. Of fortune. A roll of the dice. A game I enjoyed and one I was quite good at.

  Once we were back inside camp, I quickly showered my body and changed clothes. I stopped at the chapel, kneeling before the cross and saying a quick prayer of protection. I asked God to keep us all safe and bring us home.

  I wasn’t very religious but my mother had been a devout Christian and it felt wrong not to continue her beliefs. She would have wanted that. With the war, I didn’t know what I believed anymore. Faith was a forgotten and distant concept. I continued the tradition for her sake, familiarity, and the slight comfort it gave me.

  I paused and loaded up at the armory before meeting with Darren. I had a dagger and a small knife, my pistol, my semi-automatic, and ammo. We packed a few flashlights, some food rations, filled our canteens, and strapped on our bed rolls.

  I also kept my whistle. Darren had given it to me when I first joined. If I got separated from him I was supposed to use it so he could find me quickly. I had forgotten it the night I saw Alec. He hadn’t been happy. In fact, he had been furious. I remembered it thi
s time, patting the outside of my pocket with a smirk on my face. I would use it loudly next time, just to rub it in his face.

  Darren had invited XXX (real name unknown), me, Malcolm A.K.A. Slug, Diva, and Big Dog. Each of us were chosen for our specific talents. XXX was a lethal marksman and sniper. He was also well known for his explicit jokes and sense of humor. Malcolm was a strategist and a deadly accurate shot, especially with a shotgun or rifle. He knew schematics and maps with an almost photographic memory.

  Diva was an African American girl, a little older than me, and excellent at melee weapons. She could shoot a bow, throw knives, and slash a sword like a medieval knight. Impressive was not a strong enough word. And Big Dog was…big. At six foot five, he was tall and hundreds of pounds of solid muscle. His strength alone was an asset but he was also a good shot. We all had to be these days.

  As for me, well I was a decent shot, excellent climber, and an adept lock picker. Darren had me trained by a fellow soldier, Edward, before he was killed last year. We didn’t speak of him. Ever. But he had taught me well. We never spoke of our dead once they were buried. It was an unwritten code. The only place we mourned them was the wall. Every name was etched in stone there. Every soldier, friend, and family member lost.

  Our rag tag band of six set out an hour later, trekking through the harsh forest with considerable speed, agility, and silence. The snow had melted giving way to a muddy squishy slosh that covered your boots and impeded our progress. Despite this, we made excellent time. All of us were decent trackers and knew how to cover our prints. Another necessity. You learned to be good at it or you got killed. Most things in this life were that simple. Survival was the code.

  No one in our group was afraid to die. After experiencing as much as we have, it was only another stage. Moving on meant freedom from the monotony and the barrage of constant nightmares and guilt, the end of torture and torment every waking minute, and the end of pain and suffering. To be afraid, you had to have something to lose. And none of us did. We lost it all long ago. Thanks to K.D. Thanks to the enemy. Thanks to the militia.

  “Lizzie?” Diva called me, whispering.

  I slowed down and joined her. “Yeah?”

  “What’s up with you and Darren?”

  I looked at her, surprised. “What do you mean?”

  I swear she rolled her eyes at me. “He loves you Lizzie,” she blurted, watched my reaction.

  “I know. He told me a couple of weeks ago.” I shrugged.

  Surprise showed on her features briefly. “That’s interesting. You know…he nearly lost it when you got captured,” she informed me.

  I didn’t know that. “What do you mean?”

  “He freaked out, screaming at people, trying to find you. I’ve never seen him like that before.” She narrowed her eyes for a second. “I figured it out but I wasn’t certain until you came stumbling back to camp and I saw his face. He fell to the ground and grabbed you quickly, running into his room. When he lay you on his bed, his face betrayed his feelings. Everyone in the room knew. He’s in love with you.”

  I nodded. “Thanks for telling me.” What was her point?

  “I’m not telling you just to be nice. He’s our leader. Nothing can happen to you. Be careful. He won’t handle it well if you get hurt or captured again.”

  Great. “I’ll be careful. I know.” I promised her.

  Diva arched an eyebrow at me, doubting my word. It irritated me.

  “I get it, ok?” Geesh.

  She nodded, satisfied with my response. We traveled in silence again, but my thoughts were overactive in my mind. I was frustrated. Now I was obligated to see to Darren’s happiness? To make sure he doesn’t get upset? Was I going to have to marry him too, just to seal the deal? Or offer up myself as some kind of sacrifice?

  Not five minutes later, Malcolm was next to me. Mostly everyone called him Slug. It must have been the expert shot that earned him the nick name. Only Darren and I called him Malcolm. Actually I was the only one who ever called him Mal.

  “Hey Lizzie, how are you feeling?”

  “Better than I have in weeks. I think I must have caught a pretty bad cold.”

  “Glad to hear that honey. I…uh…” He trailed off.

  I sensed there was something he wanted to tell me.

  “You know Mal, you are one of my best friends. If something is on your mind…I would like to hear it,” I encouraged.

  He smiled. “You’re right. I am hesitant to bring it up because I don’t want to anger or upset you.”

  I shook my head. “Not a chance.”

  “I came by to check on you while you were sick.”

  “You did?” I asked. I had no memory of it.

  “Yes…you were asleep in Darren’s arms,” he looked uncomfortable, but it was a question.

  I knew what he wanted to know. “It was only that night. Nothing happened Mal.”

  He was watching my face. “I came by several times. He would not allow any visitors. I was…uh…concerned for you.”

  I gave his arm a squeeze. “I appreciate you watching out for me.”

  “Anytime,” he offered, “I’m always there for you.”

  I looked at the ground and back at him, clearing my throat. “I’m sure you know by now. Darren said he loves me Mal.”

  He nodded. “How do you feel?”

  I shrugged, unfazed. “You know how I feel. I don’t love him. I care for him but…not like that.”

  He stopped for a moment and pulled me to the side. His expression was serious.

  “I’m worried for you Lizzie. Something feels off. Be careful around him.”

  I squeezed his hand. “I will. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “It’s more than that. I am afraid for your safety. Promise me you will come to me if you need help.” His eyes searched mine. “I’m serious Lizzie.”

  I gave him a hug. I loved Mal like a brother. “Of course.”

  “I’m never far away Lizzie. Know that.”

  He squeezed me back and let go, moving off before I could answer. I watched him leave. Curiosity made me wonder what had happened to make him feel so concerned. Mal never gave advice unless it was warranted. He didn’t involve himself unnecessarily in my life. He was an excellent friend. His worry unnerved me. I trusted him the most. More than anyone else.

  Darren slid back an hour later, letting Big Dog and Diva take the lead. I felt Darren’s eyes on me for long moments before he spoke.

  “What’s the matter Lizzie?” He asked, more astute than I needed.

  “Nothing. Why?” I acted innocent.

  “Stop it. You’re a terrible liar.”

  I sighed. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal to me if you are upset about something.”

  Damn. Couldn’t he let it go? I stayed silent.

  “Lizzie? Would you please trust me?” He sounded hurt.

  Fine. “I’ve been informed that since it is known that you love me I had better make sure you are taken care of. We need a happy leader.” I responded, slightly snippy.

  I couldn’t look at him. I was too embarrassed and angry.

  “Lizzie, I’m sorry. My careless actions brought this on. I was more transparent than I realized. Forgive me, please. You are under no obligation to me, ever. You know how I feel but…I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  I could see in his eyes he was worried. He didn’t want me upset or angry. Great, I was doing damage control already.

  “I know Darren. I’m not angry just frustrated. Don’t worry, ok?” I forced myself to sound calm and even.

  He nodded. “Ok Lizzie.”

  He bought it easily, more because he wanted to than because it was truth. He grabbed my hand and pulled me close to a tree. Away from prying eyes, his lips lowered to mine quickly. He set back out after the kiss, forcing me to follow without having a chance to respond. I didn’t bother to bring up the other thing that was bothering me, like keeping Mal from visiting me. Why did he feel he
had the right to interfere on my behalf? Or make decisions without consulting me?

  Sighing, I fell in line in the rear, making sure we didn’t leave too many signs for militia soldiers to find. It was my job. And I always did my job…

  It was early afternoon when we reached the abandoned section of Worthington. The sun was high overhead, heat bearing down through the trees and starting a trickle of sweat down my back. Stealthily we made our way toward the militia’s encampment, careful to keep to the shadow of the trees as much as possible.

  We picked off guards here and there ensuring silence, occasionally from Mal and Darren, using silencers. Mostly Diva stepped in. That’s what the knives and bows were for. No detection. No gunfire unless absolutely necessary. This was a supply run. Get in. Get out. Fast. No rules except one: don’t get caught.

  Big Dog and Diva were after food. Any rations they could find. Malcolm and XXX were on ammo detail. Shotgun and automatic weapons especially. Darren and I always went for medical supplies. He never let me go off with anyone else. For the first time, it irritated me. We separated from the others; the plan was to meet at the rendezvous point after everyone had gathered the items from their checklist.

  Darren and I headed north toward the medical building, pausing to let a small squad of militia soldiers pass by. When it was clear, we entered the building. Darren knew the most direct route, without passing any guard stations. We found the supply closet quickly and filled our bags. I took plenty of antibiotics, ointments, blood packs, IV fluid, and pain medication. We didn’t need bandages. My bag was insulated so it should keep everything cool long enough, until we got back to base.

  We made it back outside without incident. Hidden in the shadows, we had to stay quiet while more soldiers marched passed us. Several minutes ticked by. Darren was across from me, watching, in the building across the dirt laden path. He was waiting for them to pass so we could sneak back to the bombed side of Worthington and meet the others. Somehow we ended up separated.