Rise of the Huskers (The Raven Falconer Chronicles)

by Larsen, Dennis

  * * *

  The inn on Banff Ave was a hive of activity. Officer Nowicki acted as a filtering station, welcoming locals into the facility and directing them to various stations. Raven took down names, addresses, and assigned rooms with keys. At the rear of the three-story facility, Mick welcomed vehicles loaded with provisions, clothing and weaponry. She was the group’s quartermaster and would be responsible for keeping the collective community stocked and running efficiently; skills any grade school teacher could handle with relative ease.

  She scanned a ruled piece of paper on the clipboard and lightly hummed; nothing recognizable, but the noise diluted distractions and helped her focus. “Let’s see . . . that makes about 500 pounds of food this morning and added to what came in last night, we’ve got . . . oh, about 800 total. Not bad, if we can keep Raven out of the candy and soft drinks,” she said, smiling to herself. Seconds later she was reminded of her job with the blast of a horn just beyond the large garage door. Normally semi-trailers would be backed into the spot and emptied of their cargo but today pickups and minivans were doing most of the offloading. “What you got this trip, Jim?” She hollered from the cement platform just inside the door.

  “It’s getting to be pretty slim pickin’s out there, Mick. All we could find was some chips and a couple cases of Gatorade, but it’s better than nothing. Oh, wait a minute I take that back . . . beef jerky. A junky tourist spot had a box of the stuff in the back, should be good for awhile.” Jim Burke, a retired banker, slid the items from the truck’s bed to the concrete at Mick’s feet. He smiled and tipped his ball cap at her, pleased to see that she responded with the same courtesy.

  “Thanks Jim, I think you guys can call it a day. Last thing, did you see any Huskers? Ziggy, I mean, Officer Nowicki will want to know.”

  “Nope, not a one. It’s like they’ve just vanished. Maybe they’re doing the same thing we are.” He joked, having no idea how accurate he was.

  Away from the hustle and bustle occurring at both ends of the inn, the medical duo of Bobi and Hannah did health assessments and made notes for Ziggy to peruse later on. The response they’d received from their bullhorn campaign had been swift but not near as many as they had hoped. Perhaps this was it. Maybe the 86 people who had arrived, thus far, were it. The roommates found the number hard to believe, so many taken, missing or worse. Was it possible? Officer Nowicki and the women rightly anticipated there would be stragglers and others who, at first thought, were too scared to venture from their homes. These unfortunate folks would, sooner rather than later, be hunted and swarmed by dozens, if not hundreds of Huskers, desperate to fill their bellies. Undeterred, the roommates would continue to swing through town, calling out to those who would listen, pleading sanity and reason to many who had given up and were unwilling to save themselves.

  By 2:00 p.m. they buttoned down the inn, locked the doors and assigned roving, untrained security details to each floor and the main entrances. Zygmunt stood on the roof with the four roommates, reviewing the stats and talking over the game plan going forward. “You’re the best recruits I’ve had the privilege of ordering around in some time. Actually feels pretty good to get something constructive done.”

  “What’re our chances?” Bobi asked. The Egyptian beauty swept back her dark hair and looked around the half-circle of friends. Bright colored sweat pants, with PINK ironed across the butt, dragged on the ground and covered her sneakers. She shivered slightly, a light, winter wind cooling her down and causing her teeth to chatter. Hannah wrapped an assuring arm around Bobi and pulled her close. A moment later the taller woman leaned over and rubbed the top of her little friend’s head with the point of her chin, eliciting a sharp elbow to Hannah’s ribs.

  “Chances of what?” Raven asked, enjoying the antics of her friends. It was something she’d missed over the past week’s rollercoaster ride of stress and death.

  Bobi cocked her head, the way Pooch often did when the girls spoke to her with ‘baby-talk’. “Really Rave? What do you think I mean? What are our chances of surviving this nightmare?”

  Raven reached down and scratched the lab behind the ears and allowed Ziggy to answer the question. “I think our odds are much better than they were a few days ago. We’ve got food to last . . . er, how long, Mick?”

  “I’d say a good two weeks if we are ultra conservative. I mean, really careful, but we can’t starve the kids. If there’s one thing I won’t allow, it will be withholding rations from the little ones.” Mick was referring to the handful of small children who had made it thus far and she was determined to see them through to a brighter future.

  “Agreed, don’t think there’ll be any argument there but we’ll trust you to stretch the food as long as you can.” He paused, looked over the roof’s edge, and then down the long, straight road, which was Banff Ave. “Pretty good view from up here. We should be able to spot trouble before it’s on top of us.”

  “As long as it’s not at night,” Raven said, completing his thought.

  “Exactly, as long as it’s not dark.”

  “That’s comforting,” Bobi responded, sarcastically.

  “Well, could be worse,” Hannah added, again giving Bobi a ‘noogie’.

  Mick looked at the tussling two and replied, “How so?”

  Bobi and Hannah looked at each other and in unison answered, “Could be raining.” The pair bumped hips, laughing that they’d suckered Mick into the old Young Frankenstein joke.

  “I walked into that one, didn’t I? It was worth it to see you two back to your old selves.”

  A puzzled look captured Nowicki’s face, feeling a bit like the odd-man-out. “Am I missing something? It would be nasty to have it raining right now.”

  “Indeed it would,” Raven offered, allowing Ziggy to remain clueless from their little inside joke.

  “Well, I guess we’ll just . . . ah. Okay, whatever . . . I can’t help but be a little pessimistic about the Huskers. They must be massing; signs are slowing, at least at this end of town. We know where they are and even though we’ve agreed to leave them alone, my military training keeps telling me to roll up there and wipe ‘em out. It sickens me to think about it so I guess we’ll just hang here as long as it takes.”

  “Amen, and I second that motion,” Mick said, taking a more serious tone than she had a few minutes ago.

  “Especially if my dad’s in there,” Raven interjected. The thought, repulsive, dropped her to Pooch’s side. The chocolate lab responded with a few quick swipes of her tongue, lashing Raven across the cheek and nose. Nowicki knelt down, faced Raven and reached out for the dog to smell, and then lick his hand.

  “Raven, as hard as it would be . . . you know I’ll have to put the safety of these people above your father’s life. If it comes down to it, and I hope it never does, the decision is already made.”

  “I understand, I do . . . but I pray to God I’m not there,” Rave said, her alabaster skin turning bright pink as the breeze swirled around the rooftop.

  * * *

  The group of friends stayed on the roof telling jokes and enjoying a few light moments. At 2:30 they welcomed Willie Daniels and his wife to the party. Nowicki had been pleased to see the elk hunter show up earlier the day before and had assigned them to man the rooftop position today at 3:00 p.m. . . . they were early. “Good to see you guys,” he said, extending his hand in a heartfelt welcome. Names were reinforced and small talk continued until Hannah, peering down the road, shouted to alert the company. “We’ve got visitors! Two black vehicles rolling this way and they’re in a hurry.”

  “Maybe government issue?” Willie asked, craning his neck to get a better look.

  They all stared, hoping to see a Canadian flag waving from an antennae or something that would show they were the cavalry riding in to save the day. Mrs. Daniels remained quiet while everyone else speculated. Bushnell binoculars extended from her face, the oculars glued to her eyes. “They’re natives,” she said quietly, not thinking it would spe
ak danger to anyone present. Her insight was ignored as the others continued to watch and wait. When they were close enough for her to see the barrels of their weapons extended from the windows, she shared her knowledge more forcefully. “They’re natives and they’re heavily armed!”

  “What?” Ziggy yelled, not expecting an answer. He grabbed the binoculars, dragging Mrs. Daniels with them, until he gave her enough slack to pull herself free. “Damn. What do they want? Girls, fetch your weapons and get your butts back up here and help Willie. Stay low and maybe they’ll cruise by without stopping.” He turned and ran for the stairs.

  “Where you going?” Willie shouted behind him.

  “To get everyone away from the front doors. We don’t need a firefight, especially one we can’t win.”

  Ziggy raced down the steps, taking them two and three at a time until he reached the main level, but the sound of squealing tires told him he was too late. Running for all he was worth he made the foyer and saw four of the sentries, their weapons leaning against the doors and their faces pressed to the glass. “Get back, get back . . . take cover!” They quickly did what they were told and retreated from the doorway. A moment later two black SUV’s raced by the inn, and then, as quickly as they had passed, the vehicles screeched to a stop, backing up to idle at the curb. “Crap. Okay, I don’t want them coming in here so I’m gonna have to take the conversation to them. If they start anything, do your best to stay hidden and shoot from cover. Don’t expose yourselves and keep this place locked down, and above all . . . don’t shoot me. Am I clear?”

  The amateur guards nodded their understanding, but then, as if on cue, half of the inn’s occupants came storming down the hall, their weapons drawn. “Listen folks, we might have a little situation here and the more people that are involved the more likely we’ll have someone get hurt. Get back to your rooms or take up your positions as they were assigned. Please, come on . . . I don’t want them to know how many of us there are.” The residents did as they were asked and Officer Nowicki stepped clear of the building, walking to the lead vehicle. A giant of a man stepped from the passenger seat, immediately stopping Zygmunt, who assured himself that his pistol was at his side. A much smaller native man, wearing a black bandanna, walked swiftly around the front of the Suburban to stand next to the behemoth. The appearance was unusual, bordering on comical.

  “Welcome, how you boys doin’?” Ziggy asked, narrowing the distance but not getting close enough to shake hands. He counted at least eight, maybe ten more armed intruders, but only the two exited their ride.

  “Good, good. We wondered how long we’d have to drive around before we ran into anybody, and lookie here, first person we run into is the law,” Trevor said, not trying very hard to disguise his disdain.

  “That surprises me, half the detachment is on patrol, you should have run into a couple by now. You didn’t see any cruisers on your way in?” Ziggy lied.

  Both men smiled and looked at one another, understanding the game that was being played. “Nope, not a one. I see you’ve set up shop,” Trevor said, nodding toward the inn.

  “Well, yeah, but we’re full up. Your posse looking for a place to rest?”

  “Nope, just wondering how the people of Banff have made out with this viral thing. Aren’t too many on the street. In fact, there’s nobody around but you.” As Trevor spoke, Lou looked over his shoulder and into the front seat where his SLR was leaning against the dash. The gesture did not go unnoticed by Ziggy.

  “We’ve done better than most, I’d say. Radio dispatch this morning from HQ in Calgary said it’s the Wild West over there, but our numbers have kept us safe.” He’d started down this road of deceit and hoped it would, at least, give the warriors reason for concern.

  “You still got radio service? I’m impressed. Let me tell you the reason for our little visit this afternoon Officer er . . . ”

  “Nowicki.”

  “Officer Nowicki, we’re running low on supplies. We’ve got a few thousand people back on the reserve that could use some food and medicines. You stocked up enough to share?”

  “Geez boys, I wish I could tell ya yes but the four or five thousand Albertans, hunkered down here in Banff, are stretched pretty thin. I’ll tell ya what, if you want to do some searching around town – have at it.”

  “That’s generous of you, but if I were a betting man, and I am, I’d bet you’ve ransacked the town and filled this inn to the gills. Sound about right?”

  “I’m not at liberty to give you our numbers or our stores but I will tell you we are prepared to protect what is ours,” Nowicki confirmed, taking a step forward to maximize his shooting angles.

  “Now don’t get your feathers ruffled. We aren’t going to take your stockpile, but . . . ” Trevor said, in a sinister tone. “We could if we wanted them.” Lou looked down at the smaller man and frowned. There was a time to show their hand and Darwin did not want it played by the excitable GAW leader.

  “Well, like I said, you are welcome to search the town and gather up whatever you’d like but don’t be surprised if you get your head blown off. Lots of people around with shotguns who aren’t in the mood to take prisoners, if you know what I mean?”

  “Huskers?”

  “Yeah, Huskers,” he assured the duo. “And not just any Huskers, but perhaps the most badass Huskers in the province.”

  Lou took the opportunity to address the officer, smiling before he did. “We’re not too concerned with the Huskers. We’ve got a strategy that’s proven successful and we’re sticking to it.”

  “You kill them? That’s well and good if you can see them and get a shot off, before a dozen of the damn things are on top of you and tearing you to shreds.” The conversation was going nowhere and Zygmunt was ready to call it a day. “Listen, I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve dealt with tough guys like you my whole life, here and overseas. We both know you’re not here to gather supplies or rid us of our Husker problem. Come clean and level with me.”

  Lou shot Arcand a threatening glance but it didn’t slow the cocky GAW leader down. “You want honesty, is that it?”

  “That would be refreshing.”

  “Come Trevor, we’ve seen what we needed to see,” Louis snapped, pushing his counterpart to the front of the SUV.

  “Trevor, you know what pisses me off?” Ziggy asked, not really wanting or waiting for an answer. “You hotshots roll up here, thinking you’re going to scare the people of this fine, little community into rolling over and giving you everything they’ve lived and died for, just because you want it. I can tell you right now . . . it ain’t gonna happen. You’re obviously a scouting party, doing somebody’s dirty work. That’s fine but don’t come back here expecting us to be gone.”

  “You arrogant prick! You think your housewives and school kids are going to keep us from taking what we want? Thousands, my ass, if there are 100 of you I’ll eat your shorts. We’ll be back and when we do . . . ”

  “Shut up Trevor!” Lou boomed.

  “You’ll what?” Nowicki yelled back.

  Lou stepped forward, causing Ziggy to place his hand on the butt of his pistol. “You don’t need that but it wouldn’t stop me anyway,” the large man threatened. “Officer, we both know you and your group of survivors in this inn are all you’ve got. Trevor’s an idiot but I have a message that I’d recommend you adhere to.” He leaned in tight, close enough for only him and the officer to hear. “Chief Gladue is coming for his lands and possessions. He will do it peacefully, or by force, the choice is yours. We will happily escort your people to the edge of our lands to the east and set you free.”

  “Set us free? With no place to go and no idea where we might be safe? I think we’ll take our chances, as they are.”

  “Suit yourself but the deaths of all these town’s people will be on your head.”

  “You say that like it’s the first time I’ve heard it or thought it. Get to the back of the line,” Zygmunt grumbled.

  “As you wish, but
when we come, and it could be tonight, tomorrow or a month, there’ll only be one chance to accept our terms.”

  “What terms?”

  “Simple really – you leave or you die.” Lou grinned from ear to ear and turned, climbing back into the Suburban, dramatically testing its suspension.

  The Braves drove the rest of the way through town, flipping a hasty U-turn at the river, departing the same way they had come. Their purpose served, with no pretense, just as Darwin had hoped it would go.

  * * *

  Since he’d heard Raven’s voice calling to him from the street, Eli had struggled with his desire to see her and the possibility that he was infected. The bullous, red lesions were shrinking, relieving joint pain and increasing his mobility. However, he trusted the physical pain would pass but a lifetime of wondering would eat him up. The night before, he and Tommy had finished the crackers, leading to a door-to-door search in the early morning hours. Most were locked and he had neither the strength, nor inclination, to bust down doors or crash through windows. As he slogged, walking like a zombie, from one place to the next, he swallowed bits of snow from shadowed areas on the northern side of fences and homes.

  Rounding a corner that led to a small bungalow with a double garage, located at the end of a long driveway, Eli and his furry friend approached and tried the front door . . . locked. Discouraged and hungry, they returned to the sidewalk and moved onto the next house but a quiet voice halted his progress and spun him around. He looked at the studio apartment sitting atop the garage and wondered. The steep stairwell, running up the side of the cinderblock structure, was free of snow but still hindered Eli’s access to the unit above. He held to the old wooden railing, using his arms as much as his legs to climb each narrow step. That morning he’d been surprised how much better his joints felt but lifting one foot high above the other was proving to be a monumental task, one that nearly turned him around. The inner voice pushed him on, and with pain shooting uncontrollably from knees to elbows, he finally stood before a screen door on a tiny landing.