by W. J. Lundy
Shane put a hand on Joey’s shoulder. “Thank you; I owe you a new shirt.”
The Marine rifleman tried to force a smile but failed. “No worries. If we don’t get through this shit, you can have the rest of this one,” he said, pulling his uniform top back on. Joey moved away and knelt near Sean. “Chief, we can’t stay here. This smoke is fucking with my eyes too; I can’t see shit. We need to find a place to hide or get back to friendlies.”
Sean leaned out, peeking beyond the wall, then pulled back and sat against the barrier, looking at the group. “The fighting is getting heavier toward main base.”
A volley of rounds snapped in the woods behind them. The sound of moans and men’s screams joined the fray. Shane tensed up, feeling anxious to be traveling again. The noise seemed to be closing in on them. He checked his rifle to take his thoughts off the dangers and to steel his mind. Shane moved closer and pressed against the wall near Ella. She was curled against Chelsea now, her eyes closed but not asleep. She sensed his stare and opened her eyes to look back at him. Shane removed his glove and put a hand on her head. She grabbed his finger and held it before closing her eyes again.
“I got her,” Chelsea said, looking at him. Shane nodded as he took back his hand, pulled his glove on again, and turned to look into the darkness.
When Sean and Joey approached then leaned over them, Shane looked up. Sean knelt down, placing his head close to Shane and Chelsea. “Change of plans; we’re going to cut west and make a break straight for the perimeter fence.”
“What if the walls are down?” Shane asked.
Sean looked away, searching the night. “The perimeter is close, and there are towers and bunkers on the perimeter, but main thing is they are clear of trees; we have to get to someplace that won’t burn.”
Chelsea helped Ella to her feet and readied her rifle. “I’m with you, Chief. Let’s just get out of here.”
Ella gasped. Shane watched her eyes grow large, and he turned his head. He spun and saw a group of Primals dressed in rags lurch out of the smoke. Not wanting to fire his rifle and alert more, he pushed off with his feet, swinging the butt of his rifle as he moved. The weapon connected under the jaw of a charging man. Shane felt the man’s head give and his momentum carrying him forward. The man struggled underneath him. Shane used his left forearm to pin the Primal to the ground while he rained down elbows to the Primal’s face with his right. He struck until the thing stopped moving beneath him.
Shane looked around, expecting to see more attack. Sean was standing over the body of another, a thin band of smoke rising from his MP5. He grabbed at Shane’s collar and tugged him to his feet. “Come on; we got to move now!” Sean said.
Shane stumbled to his feet; he could just make out the figure of Chelsea breaking away through the smoke. He turned and jogged ahead to catch up, the sound of Sean’s suppressed submachine gun clacking behind him. A bright flash and a gunshot cracked just to the front, followed by another long burst of rifle fire.
“Oh hell, we’re in it now,” Sean yelled. Shane felt the push from behind as Sean moved him forward. “Pick up the pace, we gotta break contact.”
Shane watched Chelsea continue to the left, her rifle up and firing into the smoke with Ella moving beside her with a firm hold on her pocket. He sprinted to their side, grabbed the girl with one hand, and swung her over his left shoulder; he felt her tiny hands grip his neck in a tight hold. Shane let his rifle hang from its sling and drew his pistol. He jogged ahead, firing rounds at anything that moved to his front. Behind him, he could hear Joey’s rifle and the crashing of brush; he hoped it was the team following but didn’t dare to look back.
He ran ahead fast, dodging branches. Light glowed from the trees to his front in the direction of the perimeter fences and the field that surrounded it. Shane paused and looked behind, flashes of light let him know the group was still there following him. A figure burst from the tree line to his front right. Not bothering to identify it, he raised his pistol and fired two quick shots, knocking it back. Ella flinched and squeezed his neck. Shane strode ahead and leapt over the downed body, moving slower now and trying to focus his eyes in the changing light. He cut through the final rows of brush and suddenly found himself in waist-high grass.
He spotted an empty watchtower ahead and to the left. Shane turned back and saw Chelsea just behind him; he raised his pistol and pointed to the tower. He saw the recognition in Chelsea’s face as she passed him and headed off at a slow jog. Screams erupted to the far right. In the distance near the fence, he could barely make out the bobbing shadows of an approaching mob. A long section of fence was gone, the twisted bits of chain link clanking as the frenzied horde moved over it. Shane stuffed his pistol into its holster and drew a frag grenade; he pulled the pin and lobbed it underhanded in a high swooping arc toward the void in the fences. He hollered, “Frag out,” then increased the pace, chasing Chelsea to the watchtower.
Within seconds, the grenade exploded. Shane used his hand to cover Ella’s head as he sprinted for the tower. He reached the bottom and saw Chelsea already halfway up the tower’s ladder. More gunfire to the rear let him know that Sean and Joey were engaging the mob. Shane grabbed a rung and started climbing, struggling with the ladder as he tried to maneuver his arms and body around Ella, who was now trembling against his chest. Feet from the top, he saw Chelsea looking down from the hatch; she stretched her arms out, ready to grab Ella.
“No,” he shouted up at her, “put fire on the mob; give them cover!”
Chelsea looked away and disappeared from the tower’s hatch. He gripped the rungs tight and took in a deep breath. Shane reached up and gripped the next rung, pulling with his arms as he pushed with his legs. He cleared the hatch and dropped to his side, crawling away from the opening. He peeled Ella from his chest and placed her in a corner. She scrambled into the small space, placed her hands over her head, and huddled in the dark. He heard Chelsea’s suppressed rifle as its flashes streamed light through the tower windows.
Shane forced himself up to his knees then to his feet; he stepped onto the tower’s catwalk and raised his weapon. Searching the ground, he saw the parting of the tall grass as the Primals broke through the breach in the fence. To the right, he spotted Sean and Joey in the tree line, firing swiftly. Tracers leaving Joey’s weapon sent red lasers of light, which disappeared as the rounds tore through the advancing Primals. Seeing that the men in the trees were losing ground, Shane pulled the last grenade from his vest and threw it hard at the break in the fence. The explosion boomed and blew open a hole in the charging crazies.
The men on the ground took advantage of the explosion and raced for the tower. Shane got back on his rifle and fired into the lead runners, trying to create a separation so Sean and Joey could get to the tower. He watched as Chelsea paused to reload; she slapped a magazine home and continued firing. “They aren’t going to make it!” she shouted.
Shane looked down and saw that she was right… there were too many; a branch of the mob had broken away and was on a path to intercept Sean. Shane adjusted his fire to the smaller group, his own tracer fire catching Sean’s attention. He saw the larger mob close to within ten meters. Shane clenched his teeth, knowing they would not outrun them to the tower’s steps. He gripped his rifle and fired desperately, trying to give his friends cover.
A pair broke ahead from the crowd running nearly vertical to Sean and Joey; he saw Joey smack it away with the spike of his tomahawk. Shane looked on helplessly as his friends made their final stand just yards from the ladder. Another Primal assaulted from behind. Sean flung it past him and stomped on the base of its neck. A blinding light and swirling wind forced Shane’s eyes closed, and he looked away from the ground. Shielding his eyes with his hands, he saw a small helicopter above him, shining a bright spotlight down. Farther off, being led to the target by the focused light, two Apache attack helicopters cut in low, driving for the kill, guns spitting rounds.
Following the perimeter fen
ce, the smaller helicopter pulled off and continued down the fence while increasing altitude as the lead Apache let loose a salvo of hydra rockets at the breach in the fence and the field on the far side. Just as fast and with a deafening roar, the tail bird swung around and fired danger close, using its 30mm gun to create devastation among the closing horde.
Sean, ignoring the flying earth around him, sprinted to the tower with Joey close behind. The helicopters continued fighting in tandem, chewing up the remaining mob moving from the break in the fence. Chelsea kept her head down but continued to fire and knocking down anything that got close to the men on the ground. Sean vanished from Shane’s sight as he moved near the ladder directly below the tower. Shane looked down and observed that the Primals had thinned out. The spotlight again hit the tower as the three helicopters flew around it in a quick orbit before dropping their noses and flying off again following the perimeter.
Chapter 16
“Where the hell have you been?” A solidly built older man wearing a red flannel jacket shouted from up the narrow drive in a booming voice. He was stomping in Joe-Mac’s direction; Joe could tell by the man’s furrowed brow that he was fired up over something. Carrying a heavy crescent wrench in his right hand, his left hovered over the antique 1911 strapped to his hip in a cowboy holster, the big US letters branded into its leather side. The gate guard stepped out of the way, pushing Joe toward the old man storming down the path. Even in his mid-sixties, Dan Cloud was an intimidating specimen.
“You know I kept you on here to do work for me, not to go out on these little joy rides. Was that you shooting earlier?” he said, admonishing Joe-Mac from a distance. “Wasting more of my damn bullets.”
It was not the first time he had been on the old man’s bad side. If this job on the mountain were one of his usual gigs, he would have quit it by now over being tired of the abuse. However, when you hire on a week before the end of the world, your future employment options become limited. Shaking nervously, Joe squared up. Trying to push his shoulders forward, he let his arms hang to the side and realized he had grabbed his mace when he left the truck. This time he had important information; Dan would listen to him.
“No sir, it—”
“Don’t push your damn peacock chest out at me!” The old man stepped forward and pointed the wrench at Joe. “The damn tractor’s broke again; I’m going to need your help to get it—”
“Dan, there are people out there. I saw them on the cut,” Joe shouted interrupting.
The old man lowered the wrench and looked at Joe suspiciously. His gray eyebrows raised the way they did when he was trying to solve a problem. “What do you mean there are people on the cut? Nobody travels this way—not this far up the mountain.”
The gate guard pushed Joe to the side, looking around Joe-Mac, and shook his head at Dan. “I’m figuring they followed him, Dan.”
Dan waved his hands. “Hold up, Gary,” he said, throwing his palm up to silence the guard then pointed at Joe-Mac with his empty hand waving him in. “Tell me everything. What did you see, boy?”
Joe dropped his chin nervously, trying to form his words correctly. “Well, I… uhh… I’s making coffee up by the old blockhouse—”
Dan walked toward him. “So you’re dipping into the damn emergency rations again? Dammit, Joe, the blockhouse is only two miles up the cut! We got coffee up at the damn cabin; you think I prepped all of that shit just to have you go and burning it up every time you get bored?”
Looking up at the trees, Joe bit down on his lip then looked back in Dan’s direction with his head down. “You done?”
“Continue,” Dan scowled.
“See I’s, well, I’s up to the old blockhouse making… Well, I was up there ’cause I had some problems in town, and…”
“You get the supplies?” Dan asked.
“I… ah, I got some of ’em,” Joe said. “I got ’em in the truck… but, Dan, these folks, I think they are dangerous. One of them killed his own man, and they said they were looking for women.”
Dan walked around Joe and stomped some grass away from an old stump then he dropped down, sitting heavily. “Women you say? How many of them were there?”
“Well, I saw two at first. I crawled into the brush to try to get closer when a van drove up. I had to hide so they wouldn’t see me. Nevertheless, the man, the one in charge, he talked about having trucks and more men come search the cut. He said they’d come back later.”
“Later when?” Dan asked, sitting up on the stump, now fully interested.
“I’m not sure, Dan; the man said they were gonna eat and get some trucks, that’s all,” Joe replied.
The man looked down at his boots and scratched at his head. “You put the brush back in front of the drive?”
“Yes, sir,” Joe said.
“I’m going to send some of the boys out to cut fresh limbs to conceal it. I think you’re right though; they’ll be back, and they’ll find us soon enough. The road shows too many signs of wear for them not to track us to here.”
Gary moved forward again. “Probably followed that loud-ass truck the boy’s got and the bright lights he likes running on it.”
Dan chuckled. “I’m sure they did, but no point arguing about it,” he said. “Gary, I need you to stay on watch a couple more hours. I’ll send one of the boys down here to back you up.” Dan used his empty hand to push himself up to his feet, then spun and turned to look at Joe. “You ain’t off the hook; follow me.”
Joe stepped off quickly, trying to keep up with Dan as he marched up hill, following the narrow path that headed toward the compound. It was more of a mountain ranch, really… a small cabin with two open barns—one over a hundred years old—the other, a steel building. A rough-cut hobby farm rested in the only bit of cleared land. The cabin was the nicest thing up there; solar and wind powered with a steel roof, it would look right at home in any Homes and Gardens magazine.
Talking to Dan’s daughter-in-law, Amy, Joe learned it was Dan’s wife who had wanted the cabin. It was their dream home—a place to spend their golden years after Dan retired from the Marine Corps. Unfortunately, she passed away before it could be finished. Still, Dan built the house exactly the way his wife had wanted it.
Dan moved up here and spent the next ten years alone. Adding the pole barn later and starting the small farm, he dedicated himself to living off the grid. The old man always had a feeling something bad was coming; he did not know what, but he wanted to be ready when it happened. Signing on to put a new roof on the barn and help harvest the fall crop, Joe was just lucky enough to be doing odd jobs for the old man when it all started.
Joe was also there the day Amy showed up at the cabin with the warning. She brought news from her husband that something happened or was about to. Amy’s husband—Dan’s son—was some big shot in the Army. He had inside information and a warning to lie low for a spell. Still, they did not know what it was or how long it would last, but Joe figured that as long as he was being paid, he might as well hang out.
Dan had immediately locked the gates and concealed the driveway. He sat by the old C-Band satellite dish day and night, catching news updates and trying to get word from his son. As the world crumbled, he put attention on helping friends and neighbors who lived near the ranch. Soon, the compound was full of people, five families in total. Good people, mountain people, who knew how to live up there. They always had game to eat, and they quickly went to work canning everything they could from Dan’s garden.
After things quieted down, Dan let Joe and some of the others make trips into town, but he made them follow a strict set of rules so that they wouldn’t be followed back up the cut. Months later, Joe was still here—no longer getting paid, but still alive thanks to Dan. Joe grew tired of Dan’s rules and managed to break every one of them, and the more he broke them without paying the price, the more careless he got. He figured everyone left around this area was dead or had moved on. Joe was wrong.
“I see you los
t the Sig,” Dan said, without looking back. “That stick thing you’re holding supposed to replace it?”
Joe bit his lip, not wanting to antagonize the man any more then he already was. “No, sir; I got cornered at the market, lost the pistol and most of my gear. I managed to rig this up at the sports store in town.”
“Does it work?”
Joe grinned, looking down at the bloodstains covering the mace. “Good enough, I reckon.”
Joe followed Dan to the top of the hill. He moved away from the cabin and proceeded to the steel pole building where a group of four men sat out front preparing for the day’s chores. The men carried pistols in holsters, but outside of that, no weapons more useful than a shovel or a coffee cup. They’d never been attacked up the mountain, so there was no need for it. Dan called out to one of the men, ordering him to join Gary down at the gate, and then asked the rest to follow him to the barn. Without hesitating, the men stopped what they were doing and got to their feet.
Joe smiled, watching the way people moved around Dan, not questioning him, just jumping when he asked. Joe liked to consider himself more independent and freethinking than that. Although, he knew if Dan barked, he would be just as obedient—at least while the old man was watching. Joe joined the pack and followed Dan to the old hay barn. He pulled back a large sliding wood door and moved to the center of the floor where bales of hay were stacked.
Dan reached down and hoisted a bale. “Gimme a hand, would ya?” Dan said. The other men quickly joined in, moving bales to the back of the barn.
Joe stood beside them, looking confused. “Ah, Dan, shouldn’t we be taking care of that thing I told you about?”
The old man turned and scowled at Joe. He moved back to the center and tossed away the last bale. A trapdoor was located underneath. Twisting the dial, Dan fumbled with a combination lock and then opened the trapdoor. Under the door was a large, dark green, canvas tarp. Dan grabbed a corner and pulled it back, revealing a stack of rifles and cases of food and dry goods.
