by Hunt, James
Charlie paused at the door to the restaurant, turning around and planting his knee into the pavement as he aimed his weapon at the end of the street.
Jason passed, then Nick, then Lee, and finally Shelly, and the five of them caught their breath inside the store.
After a few seconds, the first of the terrorists rounded the corner of the building on the street, and then three more emerged from the alleyway.
Using hand signals, Charlie pointed toward the back of the building, and the three of them quietly continued their retreat around the restaurant’s tables, weaving through the derelict kitchen in the back, the floor littered with a litany of sound booby traps in the forms of pots and pans.
“Watch your feet,” Charlie said.
The group walked gingerly through the kitchen and made it to the back door without incident. And so they continued their journey, Charlie weaving them in a crooked line on a path north and east. They never left the cover of buildings, and while they were forced to scan each one for anyone hiding inside, he knew it was better than walking the open streets like sitting ducks.
Once they escaped the downtown area and were out of the reach of the tall buildings and potential ambushes from above, Charlie moved them to the open streets.
With everyone’s head still on a swivel, they pushed forward out of the city limits and back into the first suburb of the city, which also happened to be home to the blue clan.
The sky darkened, threatening rain, and thunder rolled in the distance. Charlie knew that the rain would make the walk back miserable, but it might work to their advantage.
“Asset still secure?” Charlie asked, his eyes concentrated on the next alleyway, quickly pivoting around the corner to clear it before moving forward.
“Roger that,” Lee said. “Package is snug.”
“Nick, Jason, I want both of you to fall back, watch our six,” Charlie replied. “Shelly, I want you up with me on point. That package gets back to The Orchard. No matter what.”
Charlie kept them on their current path, but as he scanned the world through the eyes of his scope, a familiarity of the area washed over him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was like walking through a dream, and it felt like one that could turn into a nightmare at any time. And just when he had the answer to his questions and the cloud of the dream was lifted, it was Jason who pointed it out.
“Fork up ahead,” he said. “I say we go right.”
Charlie froze, then slowly lowered the tip of his rifle as he stared at the end of the road up ahead. It was the same intersection that Charlie had stumbled upon when he led a group out of Seattle on the day of the EMP.
“Hey,” Shelly said, nudging him with her elbow, rifle still aimed upward. “What’s up?”
Charlie shook his head, then raised his rifle back up to a firing position. “Nothing. We should head left. Clans are to the right.”
“Left is a longer road,” Nick said. “I think we’d want to get home as soon as possible, right?”
The first few drops of rain splashed against the pavement, and Jason turned his head up toward the sky. “Either way, it looks like it’s gonna be a shitty walk back. I vote shorter.”
Charlie paused, staring at the intersection ahead. Deep down, he knew that going right was the correct move. And while he thought he had buried the past, he felt it crawling toward the surface, wanting to break free.
But he wasn’t the same man that had walked this road before. He was battle-hardened now, and he wasn’t going to fall back into old habits.
“We go right.” Charlie marched forward, saying nothing else as his crew fell in line.
After the change in direction, the rain fell harder. It started off as a steady drizzle, but after a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder, it transformed into a downpour.
And while the rain offered a release from the heat, it added weight. With their clothes soaked, the heavy cloth added an extra ten pounds to their already-hefty load.
The deeper Charlie led them into the clan territory, the harder it rained. Wind whipped the water droplets against his cheeks, every single contact burning from the harsh wind. He squinted his eyes, staring ahead and barely able to make out the landscape through the wavering sheets of rain that blanketed the area.
“It’s a goddamn hurricane!” Nick shouted. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Boss!” Lee shouted through the communications link. “We need to take a minute and regroup.”
“Negative!” Charlie shouted. “We continue forward. This is the best cover we’re going to get and—”
Lighting cracked, striking a nearby tree. Sparks erupted and the bark exploded, catapulting burnt shards of the trunk toward Charlie and his crew.
More lighting crawled across the clouds, appearing like veins and then vanishing in the blink of an eye, leaving behind the harsh pounding of thunder.
“Charlie!” Lee said, staring his boss in the eye. “We need cover.”
Charlie glanced around and then pointed to a nearby house on the other side of the street. “Let’s go!” They entered the house, cleared it, and then settled in the living room while the storm raged on outside.
Lee walked over to a nearby wall in the living room and plucked a picture off a nail. He held it in his hands, staring at it for a moment, and then flashed the picture toward the crew. “Think they’re still alive?”
“What does it matter?” Nick said, grumpy and still wet, taking off his boots and wringing out one of his socks. “They’re not here anymore. And we are. End of story.”
Charlie walked over and grabbed the picture frame from Lee’s hands. He examined it, shaking his head. They were most likely dead. The past year had left little room for the weak or faint of heart. Most of the deaths happened within that first three months. And with the number of dead, especially from the city, stiff winds blew an unnatural stench of death into the countryside.
The smell lasted for three weeks. And while the scent wasn’t desirable, it was the psychological impact of the smell that did the most damage. It was a reminder of the death that surrounded them.
“Lee, transfer those computer chips to your bag. That cardboard box is going to dissolve in the rain.” Charlie hung the picture back on the wall and then left the living room to investigate the rest of the house. “Get your rest. Storm could be over soon.”
He turned on his flashlight, exposing the darkened hallways that moved deeper into the house. He found a bathroom and grabbed a towel, wiping off his weapon. He would have used it to dry off his face, but the towel smelled terrible, and Charlie knew he’d dry out eventually.
Thunder cracked outside, and for the first time in his life, Charlie found himself wishing for the rain to stop. It was a rare request for someone who had spent most of his life praying for rain. Anyone that worked in agriculture had a fickle relationship with the weather.
“Boss, we’ve got something.” Lee’s voice was calm but quiet over the radio.
Charlie dropped the towel and hurried toward the front of the house. Everyone in the living room was up near a window, peeking outside into the rain, which had slackened.
Charlie knelt next to Lee, peeking above the windowsill.
“They’re sweeping the houses,” Lee said.
Charlie watched a cluster of the terrorists bust down a door across the street, filter inside quickly, and then move onto the next. He glanced as far to the left on their side of the street as they could and saw a similar team performing the same sweep two houses down, and another team, the bulk of their forces at twenty strong, marching down the street.
Charlie lowered his head, trying to think of a strategy, then looked to Jason and Shelly, who had already posted up by the back of the living room and the hallway that led to the back.
“What kind of exit point are we looking at?” Charlie asked.
“Fences in the back,” Jason answered.
Charlie glanced back out at the street and saw the soldiers swarming t
he sides of the house and down the backside to catch anyone trying to escape while the clear teams checked the interior.
“Fuck.” Charlie slid down. “We’ll have to shoot a path once they breach. Everyone find a good spot to hole up, and brace for gunfire.”
Everyone moved quickly and quietly through the living room, keeping low to avoid any detection from the soldiers outside. Charlie maneuvered behind the couch, positioning it so it provided good cover for him when the bastards entered.
Nick jumped behind a chair, and Lee joined Charlie at the couch, while the twins remained at their position in the hallway.
Once everyone settled, the world quietened into nothing but the sound of lightly falling rain and the foreign voices shouting in the street. Charlie glanced over to Lee, who still had the package secured.
Three terrorists crossed the front window, and Charlie tensed, placing his finger on the trigger and keeping his aim steady at the door. The voices outside dropped to a whisper as they prepared for their breach.
The rain stopped. Charlie held his breath. And just before the breach, gunfire broke outside.
Charlie glanced quickly toward the window, catching glimpses of the gunfight outside.
“What the hell is going on?” Nick asked, joining the retreat toward the back of the house, the five of them funneling down the hallway, Charlie bringing up the rear and getting a last good look out the window.
He frowned, trying to make out the commotion outside. And then it hit them.
“Clans,” Charlie said. “Let’s move!”
Charlie pushed his people toward the back, funneling them down the hallway, knowing that they had a limited window of opportunity to make it out of there alive.
They burst out into the light drizzle of rain and into the overgrown grass of the fenced-in backyard. Jason was on point and led them toward the gate’s back exit, which led them out onto the side of the house, pinning them in a narrow, grassy alley between the crammed houses.
Jason planted his knee, aiming toward the street to act as cover should the fight in the streets be carried toward them, and as Charlie stepped from the backyard and into the alley, he witnessed the battle raging in the streets and noticed the familiar blue patches on the sleeves of the members of the blue clan.
Once they cleared the backyard, Charlie grabbed Jason and pulled him from his perch. The five of them hurried around the back of the next house and danced between the back yards, moving away from the fight as quickly as they could.
It wasn’t until the sound of the gunfire was nothing more than a distant pop that Charlie and the group slowed to a crawl, catching their breath, dripping wet with sweat and rain, which had stopped.
Charlie glanced up at the sky and saw the sun struggling to break through the clouds, and as the temperature warmed, the air grew thick and muggy.
“The trek back is going to suck now,” Nick said, noticing the same rise in temperature as Charlie.
“Everyone whole?” Charlie asked, ignoring Nick’s words.
Everyone nodded.
“Good.” Charlie turned, and when he set his foot down into the grass, he almost missed the faint click of a safety being turned off on a rifle. But by the time he tried to sound the alarm and raise his own gun to protect himself, they were already surrounded.
11
A total of seven blue patches surrounded them, all of them dirtied and wet, and stinking of body order despite the fresh coat of rain.
“Drop the weapons.” The man who spoke did so through a bandana that covered his mouth. It was the same blue as the patch on his arm.
“We’re just passing through,” Charlie said, slowly raising his hands. “We’re not looking for any trouble.”
“Well,” the leader said, a hint of a smile in his voice, which remained concealed behind his bandana. “You’re shit out of luck.”
Charlie kept an eye on the twins in his peripheral. Out of the crew, they had the itchiest trigger fingers. Charlie and his crew were in a kill box, and there wasn’t a scenario that ran through his mind that didn’t end with all of them dead.
“Those were your boys hitting the terrorists?” Charlie asked.
Blue leader stepped closer, his brow pinched together. “Drop your guns, and we might send you on your way with your lives.”
“Fuck you,” Jason said.
The blue patches lunged forward, but Charlie held up his hands. “Stop!” He lowered his weapon, which stopped the advancement. He turned toward the leader. “We have something that will end all of this.”
“Boss—”
Charlie turned quickly and silenced Shelly with only a glance. He then reached for Lee’s backpack, which held the chips. “What’s in here can turn the power back on. For everyone.”
The leader flicked his eyes back to Charlie, and for the briefest moment, Charlie saw hope flash in his eyes before he squinted, narrowing them into little slits. “You’re from The Orchard, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Charlie answered.
A murmur drifted between the blue clan members.
“We’re working with the military in Mayfield. But we have to get there quickly.” Charlie gestured back to the fighting to the south, the gunshots less frequent now, but none of them sure of who won the battle. “The terrorists who did this are planning another assault. And if they wreck the plant before we have our package installed, then it could set back the timeline for fixing all of this.” Charlie took a generous step forward, letting himself believe the hope rising within everyone. “We don’t have to do this anymore.”
And just when Charlie thought the leader was going to lower his rifle and command his men to do the same, Charlie’s stomach lurched when he raised it and positioned the barrel less than an inch away from Charlie’s face.
“If the military wants what you’ve got, then I’m sure they’ll be willing to pay the price. Now, drop the weapons, or I’ll kill you and your men and then take your cargo anyway.”
Charlie turned to his crew and nodded.
Jason looked at him. “Boss…”
“Do it,” Charlie said.
The rifles hit the ground, and the crew raised their hands as the blue patches swept over and grabbed their weapons, then patted each of them down, stealing the ammunition and whatever knives they had on their persons.
The computer chips was taken last, the leader holding them for himself. He opened the bag and peeked inside, his eyes widening like he was staring at gold or diamonds. He laughed, then zipped it closed and looked at Charlie.
“Let’s hope the military like you as much as they like their computers.” He laughed again, and then Charlie was thrust forward by the end of a rifle, falling into line with the rest of his crew as they walked toward whatever prison they’d be kept in.
The clan led Charlie and his people through the maze of houses, turning left and right at random points, and kept off the streets, using the small cutouts they created through secret doors in the fences of backyards.
The closer Charlie was shuttled toward the clan’s main fortress, the more people he noticed along the way. It was nothing but guards and soldiers at first, but the deeper they traveled into the clan’s territory, the more he saw of the citizens.
Women, children, elderly, all walks of life, a similar diversity to the people who lived in The Orchard. Curious eyes watched them, and Charlie held their gaze, surprised to find so many.
“How many do you have now?” Charlie asked the leader close to him.
“What do you care?” the leader answered, not bothering to turn around. “You and the military made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with us.” He turned around. “A little too convenient that you change your mind now.”
The deeper that Charlie was taken into the heart of the blue clan, the more that the houses blended together. They were attached with plywood and metal, any material that they could salvage. It was the biggest community he’d ever seen. Even bigger than The Orchard.
Char
lie paused as he saw a garden that had taken over what was most likely a back yard. A pair of men picked tomatoes, peppers, and carrots, stuffing them into bags.
“Move!” The order was accompanied by a harsh shove of a rifle barrel into his back, and Charlie jolted forward into a nearby home.
He had always wondered how the clans fed themselves. After all, there was only so much pilfering that you could do before there wasn’t anything left to pilfer.
Candles and lanterns, both wax and battery powered, lit the inside of what Charlie assumed was once a living room but had now been transformed into a cage. The windows and exits in the large barren room had been sealed off with bars, and the only entrance was guarded by a very large man, wearing no shirt, showing the scars along his protruding belly. Charlie tagged him close to six and a half feet.
Charlie and his crew were shoved inside, and Charlie winced at the clang of the iron bars that followed.
“Great,” Nick said, scuffing his heel against the concrete. “Just fucking great.”
“This was a bad play, boss,” Jason said, pacing the floor and shaking his head.
Lee crossed his arms and leaned up against the back wall, the wiry muscles along his forearms accentuated by the dim lighting. “You think they’ll kill us?”
“Why not?” Nick asked. “How many of them have we killed over the past year?” He gestured to the guard, who kept his back toward them. “They don’t give a shit about us. We’re expendable.”
“They could have killed us before we got here,” Shelly said. “That’s something.”
“They didn’t kill us because they wanted more bargaining power,” Jason said, then pointed to Charlie. “That guy knows who Charlie is. It’s the only reason we’re not dead.”
“The Orchard knows what to do in a situation like this,” Charlie said.
When The Orchard started to grow and Charlie realized that they needed back-up plans in case a situation like their current predicament ever came about, he started to lay the groundwork for contingencies, which covered the gamut of scenarios.
