Lone Survivor (Book 4): All That Rises

by Hunt, Jack

  Landon eyed him and gave a nod before ambling over and taking a seat. He’d shaven and was now wearing a fresh dark shirt, and jeans.

  Sam gave a nod. “Landon.”

  “Sam. I thought we were meant to be alone?” he asked.

  “Precautionary.”

  “I see.”

  Jake blew out his cheeks and shifted uncomfortably in front of a window. “Look. This is difficult. In Sara’s defense, she thought you were dead, Landon. Hank told her that he’d seen a charter plane go into the bay. When you didn’t come home, she…”

  “I get it,” he replied leaning forward and lighting a cigarette. Both of them stared at him.

  “You started again?” Jake asked. Landon’s eyes lifted, a frown formed. “It’s just that Sara said you were trying to quit.”

  He smirked, and blew smoke in his direction as if he didn’t care. “Perhaps you should get to the point of why you wanted to see me. Better still, maybe you could tell me why you are still here in my home.”

  “Landon,” Sam said. “As much as this is your home. The town is using it.”

  “With whose permission?”

  “Sara’s,” Sam replied. “Without her help I’m sure many more would be dead.” He took a deep breath. “A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. The only way we’ve managed to survive this long is by working together. That’s why I’m here. We need to have each other’s backs.”

  “Do we?” Landon asked in a manner which made it clear that he didn’t believe that, even though it was the reason they had survived so far. He shrugged. “So… Sara’s opened up the home. That doesn’t mean you need to stay,” he said, looking at Jake.

  “Actually he does,” Sam added. “His garage and home were destroyed not long after Bennington was put in charge.”

  “Bennington. Mick Bennington?”

  Sam gave a nod.

  “Huh. Things must have been bad.”

  Sam nodded. “There’s been a lot of bloodshed. I don’t know how much Sara has told you but—”

  “She hasn’t told me anything. She’s locked herself in her room for the past two days, which is another reason why I think you should all leave.”

  “I beg to differ,” Jake said. “She needs us.”

  “No. She needs her family.”

  “We’ve been that family,” Jake said. “Rita, Janice, Tess, Sam, Carl and the others.”

  Landon raised a finger. “I appreciate that but now it’s time to move on. Things change.”

  Sam leaned forward, his hands clasped together. “Landon.”

  “Sam. Look. I don’t know you very well. In fact, where is Carl?”

  “Carl went on a run outside of Castine with a few of the militia. Collection of supplies.”

  Landon blew smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Well. As much as I appreciate you showing up here today, let’s make something clear. Sara. Max. They’re my family. This is my home. And regardless of what decisions were made before. I’m telling you. It’s time to leave.”

  “They’re staying,” Sara said from off to his right. Neither one of them had heard her enter. “I invited them and they’re staying.”

  “But Sara—”

  “I’m not sending them away.” She looked over at Jake.

  Landon looked back at Jake. It was clear she had feelings for him. Had he set this up? Already spoken with Sara? He felt ambushed, pushed into a corner. Was he meant to be okay with this arrangement? Landon rose to his feet. “You know. I think we are done here. You wanna stay. Stay. But that doesn’t mean I have to.” He turned to leave.

  “Landon,” Jake said. “Come on, man. You’ve just returned. Look, if it’s that much of a problem I’ll go.”

  Landon ignored him. What did he expect him to say? Stay? He could see how this was going to be turned around to make him look like the bad guy. It was unreal. When he reached the door he expected Sara to stop him, say something, but she didn’t. She simply sidestepped and lowered her head. He stopped beside her. “I’ll be at your mother’s. When Max returns, let him know where I am.”

  He continued walking until Sara said over her shoulder, “She’s dead.”

  Landon stopped in his tracks and looked back. He wanted to say something but what could be said? “I…” He trailed off unable to process everything that had happened. Landon walked down the hallway until he reached the kitchen where Beth and Dakota were. “I’m taking my bag and heading to my mother-in-law’s. You are welcome to stay or come with me.”

  “You should know me better than that,” Beth said rising along with Dakota. As they stepped out into the hallway he looked back at Sara who watched them leave. He didn’t want it to come to this, nor did he want to feel like a stranger in his own home, but that’s how he felt. And from the lack of support from Sara he assumed she didn’t want him there either.

  2

  Something was wrong. On a secluded farm, five miles west of Ellsworth, Carl Madden dismounted from his horse, a look of concern spreading. The home belonged to Sheriff Wilson. Within the first month after the blackout he’d wisely made a point to visit Ellsworth Ammo Company to collect a cache of ammunition. It was back then that he realized Wilson knew more about the event than he did, as in years gone by they’d had blackouts and never once was he concerned about running out of ammunition.

  The small family-run business operated out of a small factory just on the outskirts of Ellsworth. Wilson had taken Carl with him and purchased boxes upon boxes of ammo. It was the same company that provided law enforcement with theirs and so Carl assumed it was for the department. It wasn’t.

  In the months after the blackout and before Teresa pulled that stunt of having their badges taken, he and Sam had taken several trips out to Wilson’s farm to collect more ammo. Today was meant to be no different.

  “He knows you’re coming?” Lee Ferguson asked

  “Oh, yeah, we go way back.”

  “And yet he agreed to let Teresa take your badge.”

  “Small-town politics. He wouldn’t have done it had FEMA not applied pressure. Me and Wilson are like this,” he said raising up two fingers and crossing them.

  Lee instructed two of his guys to watch their six while they entered the two-story clapboard home. Parked outside was a police SUV, and nearby was a horse tied up. Seven months into the blackout, he’d learned that Wilson had resigned from his position and those in the county jail had been transported to the FEMA camp.

  “Wilson!” Carl said hopping up onto the creaky porch and opening the storm door. A fine layer of dust was on the porch rocker as if it hadn’t been used in a while. He tried the handle but it was locked. Carl peered in but it was hard to see through the thin drapes. He rapped the door a few times with his knuckles then looked back at Lee. “He’s probably napping.”

  Only a week earlier, he and Sam had paid Wilson a visit to discuss the change of power in Castine and to request supplies. At first he’d kicked up a fuss and said that they were no longer cops and the ammo was the property of Hancock County Sheriff Department. Sam worked his magic on him by offering additional fish in return and Wilson soon agreed to provide them with whatever they needed. It wasn’t like he needed much. There was only him since his wife of thirty-two years had passed away five years earlier from breast cancer.

  “Wilson. You sleeping? Get up. It’s Carl.”

  He made his way around and looked through another window before trying the rear door. Again it was locked. He groaned. He didn’t want to come all this way for nothing. Everything was stored in the basement under the floorboards just in case he encountered a home invasion.

  “So?” Lee asked.

  Carl shrugged. “I’ll break a window,” he said moving toward the closest one.

  “No, there’s a window open on the second floor,” Lee said stepping back and pointing. Carl stepped off the porch and cupped a hand over his eyes to block the glare of sunlight. Sure enough one window was slightly cracked open. The drapes were gently blowing
in the morning breeze.

  “All right, give me a boost,” he said getting near the porch. Lee interlinked his fingers and thrust Carl upward. He latched on to the roof and clambered up until he made it to the window. Carl looked over his shoulder across the farm. A warm breeze blew against his face. It was so peaceful. No vehicles. Just rolling fields of tall grass surrounded by woodland. He pushed up the window and climbed inside dropping to the floor. “Hey, Wilson. It’s me, Carl. Don’t you go shooting me,” he said wanting to make sure he didn’t spook him. “I know we weren’t meant to be up here for another few weeks but we’ve plowed through that cache.” He stepped into the hallway and looked into Wilson’s bedroom. The covers were pulled back. He strolled down the landing and stairs expecting to find him in the living room. Sure enough, there he was. Bottle of whiskey on the floor nearby. Carl scooped it up and placed it on the table. “You old dog. I told you that…” As he came around his eyes widened and he went for his gun. Wilson was in his recliner chair but he wasn’t alive. His throat had been slit from ear to ear. His shirt was drenched in blood. It wasn’t dry which meant it had happened less than an hour, maybe even thirty minutes ago. Fear shot through him as he hurried for the front door and let Lee in. “He’s dead.”

  “What?”

  He didn’t repeat himself but immediately made a beeline for the basement. The door was ajar. Carl bounded down the steps taking two at a time. He’d turned on his flashlight and the light bounced off the walls.

  Sure enough his fears were confirmed. The floorboards had been taken up and the boxes of ammo were gone. “Shit!” Then it dawned on him. Whoever had done this had gone to a lot of trouble to lock the doors. Why would you do that? They had obviously exited via the window but why?

  As he turned to head back upstairs an eruption of gunfire echoed. Carl bounded up the stairs in time to see Lee kick the front door shut. “We’re under attack.”

  “No shit,” he replied as rounds riddled the walls and windows sending shards of glass and drywall dust everywhere. Carl stayed low and inched his way over to Lee. “How many?”

  “At least four. They took out Holman and Sommers.”

  Carl made his way into the living room and sidled up beside the window and looked out. He saw six guys fanning out, military, reserves by the looks of it. Lee returned fire sending them rushing for cover. Carl was packing a Winchester rifle and a Beretta 92. He stuck the rifle out the window and managed to hit one of them in the leg taking him down. Lee hurried over. “Please tell me this was not for nothing.”

  “The ammo is gone.”

  “Shit!” Lee said. “We need to get out of here.”

  He hurried toward the rear only to be driven back by more gunfire. “They’ve got the place surrounded.”

  They stayed low and positioned themselves so that Lee had the rear entrance in sight, and Carl could see anyone approaching the main door. Right then a familiar voice came over a megaphone.

  “There’s no way out. You might as well come on out. No one else will get hurt.”

  “Bennington,” Carl muttered as he sneaked a peek.

  “Come on out!”

  “You’ve stepped over the line, Bennington,” Carl hollered.

  “Like you did when you cut down your own people in cold blood?”

  “The same people that locked us up,” Carl replied.

  “That was on me not them,” Bennington replied.

  “You, them. They were in the same bed as you.”

  “We never killed anyone. You’ve brought this on yourselves,” Bennington said. “Now you’ve forced my hand.”

  Carl checked how much ammo he had left. His rifle was empty but he had the handgun. “Lee. How much ammo you got?”

  “Enough,” he said inching out and taking another look down the hallway.

  “Come on, Carl. You know this only ends one way. You either walk out and come back to the camp with us or we leave you out here.”

  Carl ran a hand over his face. “That bastard must have been watching us.”

  Carl had tried to convince Wilson to let them take the remaining ammo back to Castine the last time they were out, but Wilson wouldn’t let them. In his mind, he paid for it, he owned it. But that was bullshit. It was covered by the department.

  “We walk out of here, we are screwed,” Lee replied.

  He nodded. He knew Bennington was playing with them. “I’m going high. See how many there are,” Carl said, running at a crouch toward the staircase. He had to pass in front of the main door. His silhouette prompted another flurry of rounds, drilling the door so hard that it burst open. He hurried up the stairs and made his way to the back bedroom with the open window. No sooner had he reached the doorway than he saw one of Bennington’s men climbing in. He opened fire, taking him out, and then fired two more shots at a second man who was behind him. The rounds struck him in the chest sending him off the roof.

  That only caused another burst of gunfire sending glass everywhere.

  “You still with me, Carl?” Lee yelled.

  “In the flesh,” he replied. He darted into another room and tried to get a better idea of how many there were and where they were positioned. They were everywhere. There had to have been at least ten of them. He took a few steps back and sank down onto the floor. A gut-wrenching feeling came over him, a sense that he wasn’t getting out of this alive. He had no family. No wife. Besides Sam there would be no one to miss him. As strange as it seemed, he began to think about all his life choices. Every decision he’d made that had led up to this. Think. Think. You’re a cop for God’s sake. You once knew how to handle this kind of situation. But that was back when he had a radio, dispatch, an entire department ready at his beck and call.

  Now they were alone.

  A loud bang echoed and multiple rounds erupted.

  He didn’t need to see it to know what had happened. They’d stormed the house. He wanted to call out to Lee but he expected he was dead by now. Instead, he shifted up a window and slipped out, made his way over the ridge and tried to find a way down where there weren’t soldiers. But they were on every side.

  Straddling the roof he was about to go back into the house when he saw Bennington walking backwards looking up at him. “Don’t make me bring you down,” he said. Right then two men dragged Lee out. He was still alive but had been shot up pretty bad. Carl wasn’t the type to grovel so he fell back on the only thing he had, communication. The one skill the police had taught him. Most situations could be deescalated through communicating. Was this any different?

  He slipped down the roof slowly. A soldier was waiting for him, beckoning him to toss his weapon down and come back inside. A moment of indecision and then he complied. The moment he entered the window, he was thrown to the ground and beaten with rifle butts before being dragged outside and tossed in front of Bennington.

  Bennington had this smug look on his face as he crouched down and ran a hand over his hair like he was petting a dog. “There, there, deputy. It’s going to be okay.” Without missing a beat, he turned and fired a round into Lee’s skull, killing him instantly. He then brought the gun up to Carl’s head. “I told Sam I would kill him and I’m a man of my word.”

  “What did you expect to happen?” Carl asked.

  “Respect. The same kind I gave to you both.”

  Carl frowned. “Respect? Beating an officer of the law?”

  “He gave me no option. We didn’t pull the trigger first.”

  “So that makes it okay now?”

  “Survival.”

  Carl snorted then spat blood onto the ground near Bennington’s boot. “If you’re gonna kill me, just get it over with, I’m tired of listening to your bullshit.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to kill you, Carl. Not yet. You’re going to send a message to Sam.”

  “Yeah, why… you a secret admirer?”

  Bennington chuckled as he put his gun away and stepped back. He motioned to those around him and smiled as multiple soldiers step
ped in and began to unleash the worst beating he’d ever received. Boots struck him in the face, gun butts cracked his ribs and someone twisted his foot until he heard his bones break. Carl screamed in agony. All the while Bennington looked on, relishing the moment.

  Ray Ferguson rolled off Teresa’s naked body and reached for a pack of smokes on the table beside the bed. She slung an arm around his waist and he raked his fingers through her hair before offering a cigarette. He lit the end and she got up and inhaled deeply as she wandered into the bathroom. “You know, we need to keep this between you and me,” she said. “I can’t have anyone knowing about this.”

  “Suits me fine,” he said, inhaling hard.

  She stuck her head out of the bathroom. “It’s nothing personal but appearances are everything and I can’t have people thinking I’m just using you to remain here in Castine.”

  “Are you?”

  “What?”

  “Using me.”

  “Of course.” She chuckled.

  “Now I feel cheap,” he replied, before laughing. He didn’t give two shits. It was a warm bed and finding a good woman to ease his stress was just what he needed. After they’d taken back Castine and watched the military leave, Ray had been quick to set up checkpoints and make sure that the people were on board with helping, that included the town manager. One look and he knew the relationship between them was going to be fun. Many in the town objected and villainized her, saying she was sleeping with Harris, and that’s why Bennington had been put in charge. Others said she was just in it for the additional supplies. Whatever her reasons were, he didn’t care. She was good in bed and her insight into what Harris was up to was something he couldn’t pass up. If anyone was using anyone, it was him.

  “So you said Harris told you that he was supposed to be receiving additional support from the south?”

  “That’s right. Another fifty men.”