by Hunt, James
In addition to the rifle and ammunition, James equipped himself with a few smoke and flash grenades, a suppressor, his .45 Smith and Wesson, and his hunting knife should he run out of bullets. He also stashed enough food and water for two days should things take a turn for the worse along with his standard first aid kit. But he hoped the Kevlar vest strapped around his torso would prevent him from needing such tools.
Packed and prepared for a variety of outcomes, James donned his backpack and walked over to the horse. He gently stroked the animal’s neck, the hide smooth against his calloused hand. “We come home together. Deal?”
“Deal.” Luis emerged from the darkness, rifle in hand, and the pack he wore from their trip into San Antonio on his back. “But I’d prefer not to carry you if I can help it. You still haven’t lost your holiday weight from last Christmas.”
James placed his foot into the stirrup and lifted himself onto the animal’s back. “Luis, you should be—”
“Jake can handle it.” Luis stood off to the horse’s left, staring up at his boss. “Going back into that town alone is a mistake, and you know it.”
James had never enjoyed admitting that Luis was right. The man had a bad habit of reminding you after it happened. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted to come or not.”
Luis laughed as he pulled another saddle from one of the barn stalls. “I don’t know if want is the right word.” Luis secured the saddle to the horse, and then mounted the animal.
“I don’t know what we’re about to walk into, but I know that it’s going to get hairy any way we slice it,” James said. “Based off of the damage they did to the Humvee, I’d say they’re well-fortified. But nightfall should provide us cover.”
Luis cocked one eyebrow up. “And what if they have night vision goggles and they can see us coming from a mile away?”
James’s mare whinnied, and he calmed the animal. “Then this will be a short trip.”
17
Nightfall brought no relief from the heat, and the hundred bodies crammed inside Ruckins First National Bank wasn’t helping cool things down. It had been close to six hours since their town had been attacked and the gunmen forced everyone into the building, killing anyone who opposed them.
It had been hours since they’d heard the gunfire, but the spark from the conversation had yet to burn out.
Doctor Nolan Springer shifted on the tile, his back stiff and his knees aching. Everything ached at his age. He thought about trying to get up and stretch, but he didn’t think he could stand without help, and he didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to himself.
Nolan leaned forward, his back cracking as he groaned in relief from the lack of pressure, then bent his knees, forming himself into a ball, choosing not to participate in the speculation of what people thought was going on and what would happen to them. He didn’t want them to get their hopes up, only to have it dashed by his realist and sometimes nihilist opinions. But that didn’t stop the spread of chatter from whispering lips in the darkness.
“I’m telling you, it was the military, probably a small platoon that was just on patrol.”
“I don’t know, man. You really think the military would turn tail like that? What if it was a big convoy or something? And these guys wiped them out. Christ, it sounded like there was a war going on out there.”
“I’m telling you—”
The bank door opened, swinging inward violently. The whispers ended and the room drew in a collective breath as three men, all of them wearing masks and armed with rifles, entered, their figures silhouetted from the lanterns behind them.
One of the shadow men stepped near Nolan, but it was hard to tell in the darkness if he was staring at Nolan.
After a minute the shadow man returned to his cohorts, whispered something, and another pair of men moved toward Nolan. They were swift and purposeful as they placed both hands on the old man and picked him up from the ground like he was a rag doll and carried him outside.
Having been sitting down for hours, Nolan’s legs were asleep and the gunmen that pulled him from the bank were forced to carry him. He saw that they had moved the vehicles in the streets, pushing them to either side of the town to form a kind of blockade for the town’s entrances, leaving only a few cars in the middle.
Heading toward the east side of town, Nolan also saw a large number of gunmen by the gas station, and Nolan was surprised to find a semi-truck parked outside. It hadn’t been there during the initial takeover, and he was surprised something so big, so mechanically inclined still working despite the power outage.
Nolan counted twenty armed men between the bank and the short walk to Mel’s Hardware shop. Most of them were masked. Cowards.
The inside of Mel’s had remained untouched. He expected the violence to spread into looting, but he realized that these men hadn’t demanded jewels or money from the people they locked up in the bank. Whatever their cause or their mission, it wasn’t for monetary gain. It was something else.
When Nolan was carried into Mel’s office, whose corpse lay in the hallway, what little strength returned to his legs disappeared and his knees buckled, but he didn’t fall.
A man, who was not Mel, sat behind Mel’s desk. He wore no mask, had no gun, and was hunched over a piece of paper, scribbling. Nolan noticed the man wore no mask, but did wear a pair of black gloves. And the man was American.
“Is this him?” the gloved man asked.
“Yes, sir,” the man on the left answered.
The man continued to scribble and then ripped off the section of the paper he had been using before handing it to the man who’d answered. “I want everything secured before morning, and I want patrols set up around the clock.”
Orders received, the men quickly exited the office, shutting the door behind them.
The man behind the desk leaned back, hands folded casually over his lap as he stared Nolan right in the eye, the expression almost clinical. “You’re the town doctor.”
“Feeling under the weather?” Nolan asked.
The man didn’t smile, but Nolan didn’t care.
“I was told that you have lived in this town all your life,” the man said, his tone as cold and as calculating, his eyes so dark, it was like they were holes drilled into a skull.
“That’s true.” Nolan cleared his throat. “But if you’re looking for any dinner recommendations, I’m afraid the food is better in San Antonio.”
“San Antonio is burning,” the man said. “Everything will burn when we’re finished, but there are those that might survive should they prove themselves useful.” He leaned forward. “I want to know about the man in the Humvee.”
Nolan knew he was talking about James. He must have been the cause of the gunfire. And if they were still asking questions about him, then that meant James had survived the encounter, and he had hopefully rescued his wife and son from the city.
“He came through town earlier today, not long after the device was detonated,” the man said. “I want to know where he lives.”
Nolan glanced out the door and saw Mel’s shoes sticking past the door’s entrance. The guy must have asked Mel the same questions, his answers unsatisfactory. “I’m afraid there isn’t anything that I can offer you that would be helpful.”
The man at the desk retained his stoic glance, and Nolan wondered how they would kill him, and if they planned on doing it quickly.
But the man didn’t reach for a gun, he didn’t scream or shout, he simply opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a file. A medical file.
“I was curious to see if I could get a head start on getting to know the townspeople,” he said, opening the file on the desk. “You can learn a lot by studying a person’s medical history. It provides insight into how they lived and what problems they might be facing down the road.” The man continued to study the page. “Late stage lymphoma. It says here that it’s spread to your bloodstream, which means you only have a few weeks left, maybe even less before your body st
arts to shut down.” He left the file open but leaned back, returning to a relaxed position. “I’m sure you know what you’re in for. The pain. The suffering. Whatever torture I could instruct my men to give you would pale in comparison to what you have waiting around the corner.” He showed the first signs of a smile but repressed it quickly.
The door opened and another one of the armed terrorists stepped inside, paying no attention to Nolan as he addressed the man behind the desk in a foreign language. Nolan had spent enough time in border towns for volunteer work to know that it was Spanish, and he’d picked up enough to be able to follow the conversation loosely enough.
“We’ve finished unloading the supplies,” the terrorist said.
“Everything was accounted for?”
“Three months’ food for one thousand men.”
“Keep all of it crated until it’s time for distribution. More units will be arriving from the south.”
“What do you want us to do with the truck?”
“Separate the trailer and park the vehicle on either side of the gas station,” the gloved man answered. “I want full patrols around it and I want the doors locked inside.”
The man nodded and the gloved man returned his attention back to Nolan.
“We’re bigger than you can possibly imagine,” he said. “I could tell you everything about our plan and it wouldn’t make a difference. That’s how strong we are, that’s how dedicated we are, and that’s how efficient the organization that I work for is.”
“Not efficient enough to find some man in a Humvee,” Nolan said.
The man stood and walked around the desk and slapped both palms onto Nolan’s shoulders. “You tell me where to find him, and I’ll help end your pain before it begins.” He squeezed Nolan’s shoulder harder. “But if you don’t, then I’ll keep you alive. Shove an IV into you myself if you won’t eat or drink. And I’ll make you feel every bit of pain and torture that’s coming your way.”
Nolan considered the offer, but only to buy him time. Because he knew that if he didn’t give this man some information, then he’d just pull some other person from the bank who would give up James at the drop of a hat. At least Nolan would be able to lie. “What do you want to know?”
18
Jake sat in a chair next to his mother’s bed, holding her hand, hoping and waiting for her to wake up, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. He tried not to stare at the bandages that concealed the wound, more blood staining the white gauze, but it was hard not to look.
A knock at the bedroom door turned Jake’s attention away from his mother, and he saw Zi standing in the doorway.
“Everything all right?” Zi asked.
Jake said nothing as he turned back toward his mother. Her hand was so cold. It had always been a warm touch, and he hated the fact that it had vanished. She was dying in front of him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Zi entered and stood on the other side of the bed. She reached for Mary’s wrist, and Jake grew defensive.
“Don’t touch her,” Jake said.
Zi glared at Jake. “I just want to make sure she’s all right.”
Jake rubbed his thumb against the inside of his mother’s palm. “I already checked her pulse. She’s still alive.”
Zi released Mary’s wrist and then crossed her arms. “Your dad said we needed to get some things ready? I was hoping we could get started.”
“Why?” Jake asked. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.”
Zi walked around the bed, then knelt by Jake. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a distraction. So what do you say you help distract me and show me what your dad wanted us to get done? I’m going stir crazy just waiting around.”
Jake saw her smile out of the corner of his eye. It was a nice smile, big, like his mother’s.
“All right.” Jake slid off the chair, and then carefully placed his mother’s hand on the bed, his touch lingering, hoping for the return of that warmth that he always remembered her by, but the cold remained, and Jake let her go.
“So,” Zi said, waiting near the door. “What do we need to do?”
Jake finally looked away from his mother. “If you’re going to be staying here, then you should know a few things about the house.” He moved toward his parents’ closet and opened the door. “If we’re ever in trouble, you want to come in here.”
Zi walked over, glancing inside. “It’s a little small, don’t you think?”
Jake knelt and ran his fingers along the floorboards until he found the loose edge. When he lifted it up, he exposed a darkened space. “It’s a tunnel. It runs from the house to the barn. It’s in case we ever need to leave, but we can’t use the back or front doors.”
Zi leaned closer. “Oh my god. You built this?”
“My dad dug it,” Jake answered, shutting the lid. “C’mon, I’ll show you the rest.”
Jake left the door open a crack and found Stevie and Maya in the kitchen, the pair looking half asleep at the table.
“Hey,” Zi said. “Jake is showing us some things around the house.”
“So?” Stevie snarled.
“So, maybe you should get up and listen,” Zi said.
Stevie stood up quickly and knocked his chair down. “What the hell does it matter? The world is ending, and we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.” He stormed off, heading down the hall, and they heard the slam of a bedroom door.
Maya, his wife, slowly stood. “I’m sorry about that. He’s just tired.” She slunk past Jake and Zi and disappeared down the hall into the spare bedroom.
Jake waited until he heard the close of the door, then walked to the wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. “This is for the spotlights on the roof.” He opened a plastic covering, which revealed a switch. “We turn this on, and the lights turn on all around the house. It lets us easily see who’s out there.”
“I thought all of the power was shut off,” Zi asked.
“We have solar panels on the roof,” Jake answered. “They’re hooked up to a spare battery where the power is stored.”
“Smart,” Zi said.
Jake smiled and backpedaled to the kitchen. “Then you’re really going to like this.” He walked toward the cabinets and opened the door next to the stove, pointing inside. “You see that plastic box?”
Zi got low and checked inside. “Yeah.”
“That’s one of our trump cards,” Jake said. “We have mortars buried twenty yards out all around the house. If we are attacked, and we’re overwhelmed, we flip the switch inside the box and BOOM!” He opened his eyes wide, making a little explosion with his hands.
Zi frowned. “There are explosives out there? Like, we’ve already stepped on them?”
“It’s completely safe,” Jake answered, closing the cabinet door. “So long as you don’t flip on the switch.” He stood and dusted his hands off. “We’ll have to set up some trip wires around the house. I know my dad will want that done.”
“Trip wires?”
“Yeah, c’mon, I’ll show you.” Jake headed for the door, but then stopped, remembering his mother. The distraction of showing Zi around had helped so much that he’d forgotten about her. He looked to Zi. “Do you think Maya will watch my mom? I just don’t want to leave her alone.”
Zi’s expression was skeptical, but she tried to remain positive. “We can ask.”
Jake followed Zi, and she knocked on the door. Unsurprisingly, it was Maya who answered, and she agreed to look over Mary while Jake took Zi outside.
But before they left, Jake told both of them to wait a moment, and he returned to his mother’s room alone. He shut the door and quietly approached his mother’s bedside. He picked up her hand again, finding it just as cold as before.
Jake knew that she couldn’t hear him, but there were things that he wanted to say. Things he needed to say.
“I know that you said none of this was my fault,” Jake said. “But I still feel guilty. Guilty because if it w
eren’t for me, then we wouldn’t have been in the city in the first place. And I know you wouldn’t want me to say that, but it’s true. I’ve always felt weak, Mom, and now that weakness hurt you.” He wiped away a tear and then glanced at the door to make sure it was still closed. He stared down at his mother’s lifeless hand and nodded. “I promise that I won’t be weak anymore. No matter what. I won’t let you down again.” He kissed her hand and returned it to the bed.
When Jake left the room, Maya took a seat in the chair where Jake had been, giving her assurance that she would keep a close eye on Mary.
“So you ready to show me what’s next?” Zi asked.
Jake nodded. “I’m ready.”
19
The horses’ trot had become a hypnotic rhythm in the darkness. It was a sound that James had always enjoyed. And despite the gear on his back and the rifle in the saddle holster, he relished the wind on his face.
“Boss,” Luis said, riding closer as he pointed ahead in the darkness.
James saw the glow of lights ahead. He slowed his mare on their approach and kept his distance. Sound carried far on the wind.
James waited until they were two hundred yards out before he dismounted, planting a stake in the dirt, tethering the animal in the open plains. Once Luis had done the same, the pair lingered in the darkness, preparing their weapons for their assault.
“We’ll approach from the north,” James said. “They’ll probably have the bulk of their watch guards looking to the east and west on the roads.”
“Right,” Luis said. “So where do we start looking?”
James had given that some thought and figured that if the townspeople were still alive, then it would be easiest to control them by keeping them all together. “The only building big enough to hold everyone would be the bank. One entrance and exit. It’d be easy to guard.” He wiped sweat dripping into his eyes. “I’ll take a look around the perimeter and see what I can find. Stay here and I’ll circle back around.”
