Tim pointed east. “It looks like they left in that direction. Let’s check it out.”
They went back to where they had left their equipment and the other men. They hid their gear and left one Soldier to stand guard. The others walked the trail made by the motorcycles, heading east on an old, unpaved country road.
There were a few trees growing next to the road, with yellow patches of grass scattered and struggling. The sky was blue, and fluffy white clouds moved with an invisible wind. There was no breeze at all on the ground and, as they walked along, dust followed close behind. There was no sign of life anywhere. Not so much as a butterfly or bird. They traveled for two more days and still found nothing. There were a few houses along the road, but all were abandoned as if the occupants had left in a hurry. They decided to head back to the beach again because there was nothing out here. No food, no rivers from which to fish, and no people.
Once they arrived at the beach, they set up camp, and then went fishing in the surf… but everyone remained on alert. These were strange times and it was particularly weird that there were so few people. The Soldiers assumed the absence of people was probably due to the plague. It felt as if they were among the last people on earth.
Eric and his men were totally unaware that they were being tracked. In a world where hunger prevailed, most anything alive was considered food.
The Soldiers were potential food to a pack of dogs that followed close behind but had remained hidden from the humans. At one time, they had been pets of people who lived in the surrounding area. They watched the men, keenly aware they could be dangerous, but hunger drove them to attempt the dangerous.
There were twenty one of them altogether. Most were female but there were a few males scattered throughout. The dominant male was a Rottweiler-Doberman mixed breed. He was big, fearless and, at the moment, hungry. They all lay on the ground, hidden by the brush, and observed the humans going about making camp for the night. Long-dormant instincts had re-emerged, and they looked for the weakest one to attack.
The Soldiers would head south in the morning and continue to follow the beach. They were far enough inland from the beach road and the beach itself to afford a welcome fire. Eric had scouts out in every direction. They were small in number and heavily armed, but the last thing they needed was an ambush. They had seen enough signs of destruction and all were leery.
A piercing scream alerted them to danger. It was the sentry on their southern flank. Shots were fired. By the time the men got to the young Soldier, he had been mauled by many razor sharp teeth and was near death.
Coming up on the scene, they caught a glimpse of a dog running away from the attack and quickly disappear in the brush. In a few moments, in spite of their best efforts to stop the bleeding, the Soldier died from the multiple rips and tears all over his body. His right hand was missing… chewed off at the wrist. They knew it must have taken several dogs to overpower the Soldier so quickly. One of the other sentries was visibly frightened.
“You’d better keep a sharp eye or the same thing could happen to you,” one of the senior Corporals warned. He wasn’t happy about being selected to assume the watch.
They dragged the dead Soldier toward the fire and wrapped him in a piece of plastic. They buried him the next morning, placing rocks over his body, hoping to prevent the dogs from digging him up and eating him. They broke camp and headed toward the beach.
One month later…
The sun dipped slowly below the horizon. Eric scanned the beaches and the horizon; he saw no living thing. He decided to move farther up the beach beyond a large rock-filled jetty that stuck out into the water. He had been searching from this point for several days without success.
He returned to the camp where the Soldiers were cooking fish and explained to them what he was planning to do. “Look guys, I’m going to move south a couple of more miles… perhaps even three or four… to see what I can find. You’re all welcome to stay here and wait or we can move the campsite.”
The Soldiers agreed that they would also start moving south again. Eric started up the beach while the others packed up the camp. After walking for about an hour, he was well past the jetty. He saw a low-lying cliff off to his right and decided to climb it for a better view. He was surprised when he spotted what appeared to be a submarine wedged against the surf several hundred yards from the beach. There didn’t appear to be any activity around the craft, so he went back down to the beach with the other Soldiers. They were setting up a new campsite and were building a fire when he approached them.
“You boys aren’t going to believe this, but there’s a sub out there in the water! I’m going to swim out to it and see what I can find.” He stripped down to his underwear, walked back up the beach and jumped in the water. It was an easy swim to the vessel. He climbed the ladder and pulled himself up on the main deck. He looked around but saw nothing of importance. He climbed the tower to access the main hatch. When he got there, he saw it was open.
He went down to look around. It was abandoned and looked as if it had been plundered. There were items broken, damaged, and scattered, as if someone was in a hurry and had left items where they fell. In the dimness surrounding the area where sunlight poured in through the hatch, he found a flashlight hooked to a bulkhead and when he turned it on, he could see in detail that whoever had been here had taken everything of value.
There was a placard on a bulkhead that read “USS CALIFORNIA SSBN-740”. It was his brother’s submarine! He wondered what happened here, why the entire crew abandoned the craft, and why they left it undefended. The most important question in Eric’s mind… “Where’s my brother?”
He continued his search and walked down a passageway that was lined with staterooms on both sides. He entered each one and found that pictures and personal items were still where the occupants left them. Some clothes hung in lockers and other personal items remained undisturbed. He eventually found himself at the armory and the very secure door was open. There was nothing left there except spare parts, tools and other odd items… no weapons or ammo. He worked his way through the boat and saw that all the missiles were gone. Had the crew launched them all?
There was an assortment of pots and pans, cooking utensils, butcher knives and a large variety of other cookware in the galley, but little else. He worked his way back to the conning tower and the main hatch, went up the ladder to the exit and was back on deck once again. There was no one anywhere. He noted that there were plenty of medicine and wound dressings in the sickbay. That may come in handy at some later date. Eric climbed the ladder to the main deck, closed the hatch behind him, and swam back to shore.
The next day after breakfast, they broke their makeshift camp and proceeded south down the beach. After about five miles, they came to a small incline on their left where the cliffs naturally turned down. It was an easy hike to the top and Eric could take a look in all directions.
He saw smoke on the beach. He couldn’t make out any people, but the smoke from the fire was telling. He climbed back down and motioned for the troopers to gather around. “There’s smoke down the beach a few miles. I want six men to follow the ridge and the rest of us will continue walking along the beach toward the fire to see who is keeping it up. If those are bad guys down there, don’t shoot unless you have to defend yourself. I want to talk to them. Everyone understand? These are the first living people we’ve seen since we left the canyon.”
Six men swung left and climbed the ridge and the rest headed toward the fire. They maintained an equal distance, and in an hour they could see the people camped on the beach. They were all dressed in blue digital camouflage, the Navy’s most recent uniform fiasco, dubbed “Aquaflage” by Sailors for their ability to blend into the water should someone have the misfortune of wearing them when falling overboard. There appeared to be about thirty of them in all. Eric pulled his binoculars up, confirming they were Sailors. One of them was his brother Chris!
As Eric was scanning the beach,
shots were fired from the ridge above Chris and his men. Eric’s other group was engaging someone or something out of view. Eric and the men with him moved toward the low-lying cliffs as did his brother and his Sailors. The slavers who had attacked Eric’s men quickly hopped on their motorcycles and took off to the north. They realized they were no match for trained Soldiers.
Once the coast was clear, a parlay of shouting and identification was made between Eric’s party and the Sailors. Eric stepped out of the brush, cool and collected, and yelled toward Chris, “Somebody call for a rescue party!?”
It took several seconds to register with Chris that this was, in fact, his brother. Once the realization dawned, however, he slowly walked up to him and he reached out and grabbed him, embracing for a long moment.
The two military groups joined each other and moved their camps together. They posted a watch up above on the cliffs to provide additional safety for the group. The bikers were long-gone and since they were on motorcycles, pursuit wasn’t a viable option.
Eric pulled his brother to the side and said earnestly, “You have to tell me all about what has happened since the last time I saw you!”
“Let’s talk when we make camp for chow. We have a lot of catching up to do, little brother. But man! It’s so great to see you!” The two men were thrilled to see each other again. They had both believed the other to be dead.
Chris and Eric spent several hours talking around the fire. About the war, the plague, and things that had transpired in their lives since the last time they had seen each other at their Mom’s funeral. Eric told Chris what he had seen coming down the coast… the hidden valley enclave of women, the dog attack and the numerous burned out homes and businesses. They were both amazed at the lack of people left on the west coast and wondered about the rest of the United States.
They decided they would travel north in the morning to see if they could find out where the motorcycles were headed. Those thugs were an obvious threat to everyone they encountered. If the Soldiers could capture a few of them, it might reveal some good intelligence. They agreed that the two groups would travel in close proximity in case one was needed as backup for the other, and they would camp together every evening. It was a sound and workable plan. In the morning Eric took the highway while his brother Chris continued up the beach. Both groups had radios and would stay in touch.
The day was hot and cloudless. The California sun beat down on them like an oven, making the traveling nearly unbearable. Several of the Sailors complained about everything. The food, the conditions, the weather, the long marches, the heavy packs… everything was fair game.
One man commented how much he missed his girlfriend, which quickly drew jesting from the others. “She’s probably warming someone else’s bed by now, if she’s still alive.”
“Yeah, Jody is seeing to her needs right about now.”
“I left my wife in New Orleans with twenty-eight kids and a can of beans!”
The caustic remarks weren’t meant to be insulting. They were simply a diversion to get their minds off of the tedium of the march. They had all lost most of everyone they knew and loved… if not to the nukes or the plague… to the thugs they were tracking.
Motorcycles were spotted behind them and they took cover, hoping the thugs hadn’t spotted them. Eric radioed his brother. “Leader, this is Highway. We’ve got company. I’ll report back in a few… out.”
Eric and his people took cover behind the large boulders that lined the highway to conceal themselves as the large group of slavers approached and quickly passed them by. Just as it appeared they had gone unnoticed by the bikers, a lone straggler pulled to the side of the road. He dismounted his bike and removed a roll of toilet paper from this saddle bag.
He turned and headed in their direction. He continued forward and they knew they would have to take immediate action. As soon as the biker saw them, he reached for his handgun but the two closest to him, one Soldier and one Marine, knocked him to the ground before he could get the revolver past his belt.
“Joint operation, eh?” one joked to the other.
They quickly pushed his motorcycle to the cliff that paralleled the beach and shoved it over and out of sight to eliminate any evidence of the encounter.
They now had a captive… and possibly some answers.
Chapter 10
First Encounter
THEY INTERROGATED the outlaw and learned there was a large city north of them where everyone went to trade the slaves or bounty they scavenged. Eric radioed his brother.
“We captured a slaver and are finished interrogating him. What should we do with him now… over?”
Chris responded through the static. “Give him a fair trial. Then shoot him.”
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely! These people are the dregs of humanity. They actively participate in slave trade, they loot, rape, pillage, and they eat children. They’ve shown no mercy for their victims and we cannot allow them to continue their terror. Do you think they would show you any kindness or mercy? Shoot the SOB and be done with it… out!”
Eric selected six men for the firing squad and lined them up shoulder to shoulder. They offered the biker a blindfold, but all he could do was cry and utter unintelligible gibberish. Eric gave the final order. The rifles exploded and the biker collapsed into a heap.
“Drag him to the cliff and throw him over. We need to get out of here.”
The biker’s absence must have become clear several hours later. Eric first heard the reports of small caliber fire before his radio crackled with Chris frantically calling for backup. His men were being sniped by a small band of bikers from the cliffs above.
Not wanting to run headlong into the bikers, Eric and his team approached with caution. When they arrived at the place where the Sailors were being attacked, or several hundred yards away, as it turned out, he looked at Tim and said softly, “Let’s get a few of them!”
After dropping to the ground beside a tree on the ridge they were on, Eric raised his .50 caliber rifle and adjusted the scope. Tim simultaneously brought out his spotting scope. There was a large amount of brush and trees behind them, so he was not concerned about their silhouettes giving them away.
“First target, one o’clock, red hat,” Tim was speaking as he focused his scope. “Second, third, and fourth targets are sitting ducks in a row to the right of him.”
Eric took aim, fired the .50 caliber rifle, and the biker’s head exploded into a pink mist. He slowly moved his rifle right and squeezed the trigger again. He fired two more times and his bullets found their mark… a total of four fewer scumbags to ravage the earth. The other slavers saw what was happening and leaped on their bikes and raced north in a cloud of dust.
After a bit of debate, the Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines determined that the best course of action was to track the bikers back to their home base and eliminate them. They were well-armed and combat-trained, and now it was personal. One of the bikers had gotten a lucky shot, killing a junior Petty Officer who was down on the beach. They were all equipped and prepared to take on a heavy contingent of adversaries.
They traveled north in the same direction the slavers had made their hasty getaway earlier until they came to a well-worn trail that led east from the highway. Eric told his brother that he was going to scout the trail to see where it led.
The others acknowledged the message and told him that they would wait on the beach for them to radio back. The trail went east for about a mile, crossed over some grass-covered rolling hills, and immediately turned left and north at the top of a large plateau.
Lieutenant Chris Bell waited on the beach for a radio message from his brother. Both groups relied on the radios, which all seemed to be working well. They had adapted small solar chargers that they placed on top of two of the packs to keep batteries topped off as they walked.
Their method was simple. The two groups paralleled each other while heading north. The road and beach would even
tually reach a juncture where they would come together again. It allowed each group to be a backup of reinforcements should the other group come under attack.
The going was slow. There were scouts ahead of the main group to the east, with additional Soldiers bringing up the rear. They continued north and monitored everything ahead of them to ensure they didn’t walk into a deadly trap. There would be no reinforcements from anywhere other than themselves.
Eric and his brother, Chris, wanted to ensure that their men would be around for the long haul, so they maintained caution rather than expose their troops to needless confrontation and the possible loss of life.
The forward point man crackled on the radio. “Sergeant, there’s a small group of slavers just ahead, and they have hostages.”
“Okay Murphy. How far are you ahead of us?”
“Maybe a mile, Sergeant… on a compass course of ten degrees magnetic north. When you pass through a small gully, you’ll see a stand of trees to your left. We’ll be at the foot of the trees.”
“Roger that, Murphy. We’re on our way. Stand fast and don’t do anything until we get there. Keep your eyes on them and if they move, let me know immediately… out.”
The weather was sunny, with white clouds moving from the Pacific toward the landmass. The sky was a striking blue, and clear, with the exception of the small scattered clouds. It was warm and they were all sweating as they walked toward the north.
Each man packed a heavy load, and though it was tough going, they moved along steadily and made good time. After 20 minutes, Eric could see his men with his binoculars. They were waiting for him at the base of the trees. He stopped and turned on the radio. “Everything okay, Corporal?”
“Roger Sergeant, it looks like they’re taking a break. Most of them are laying in the shade and the hostages are roped together nearby. There are no guards posted anywhere. I think they’re confident that no one will attack them. By the looks of them, they’re not expecting us.”
Avalon: Beyond the Retreat (The Avalon Series Book 2) Page 9
