Breaking the Beast

by Steven Bird

  “Okay,” she said, beginning to lay out her plan. “We’re on Ooltewah Road. If you head south,” she said, pointing, “you’ll see Houston Lane. Just before Houston Lane, there is a line of trees that follow a fence to the east that separates many of the properties. That tree line will allow you to move to where I need you while remaining under the thick cover of the branches. Once you’re clear of the neighborhood, head up the hillside a few hundred yards.”

  “Wait, we’re splitting up?” I asked.

  “Yes. If George sees you, he may shoot without bothering to ask you why you’re prowling around his property, stealing horses. He knows me, and I’m going to remove my hat so he can see me clearly from a distance,” she said as she pulled the cap from her head and let her hair down.

  I must admit, I was captivated at that moment by her beauty. She was a very attractive woman. It’s not like I had gone an extremely long time without seeing a woman; the D. C. area was still populated by many healthy, attractive people. It was the opposite of the post-apocalyptic nightmare that most of the country and the world had become. But there was something about her….

  Snapping her fingers in front of my face, clearly seeing that my mind had been derailed, she continued, “Like I was saying, George will more than likely recognize me. His horses are behind his home in a large barn in a pasture.”

  Looking around, I said, “I have a hard time picturing horses in an area such as this.”

  “This is one of those places that was in the middle of a development boom just before the virus was unleashed. George was one of the last holdouts, who refused to sell his land to the developers. He hated being surrounded by cheaply built, cookie-cutter homes, but would have hated leaving his old family farm even more.”

  Curious, I asked, “How could this George fellow have remained so close to what was surely once a densely-populated area without getting sick?”

  “I never said he wasn’t a carrier,” she countered. “George travels on horseback to wherever the OWA mobile support teams, such as mine, are operating. He petitions them for a dosage based on his work providing working animals for survivors and is awarded a dosage just frequently enough to keep him going. The virus has been allowed to advance enough for it to show, however. He’s not what he once was, but he struggles through the pain and presses on with life.

  “After tonight, I worry about what will happen to him. If this area is declared to be an insurgent safe-haven, the OWA will pull out, taking its life-saving Symbex treatments with it. They’ll either allow the virus to run its course through the remainder of the population, or they’ll have their OSS thugs make what remains of life here a living hell. The suffering from our misstep here is far from over.”

  I knew her misstep was me. I knew she regretted her group’s decision to track me down more than words could describe. Her friends were dead, and a community that she truly cared for, that was hanging on by a mere thread, would now almost certainly join their fate.

  With that realization, I resolved in my heart to not let their sacrifices go to waste. Tamara and I would recover the Symbex Ronnie and I had smuggled out of D.C., and we would get it into the hands where our lives, and the lives of the people in this town, would be vindicated by breaking the OWA’s grip on all of humanity.

  Once she had finished explaining her plan to me, we parted ways, and I made my way to the hillside where she had directed. It didn’t take long for me to reach our intended rendezvous point. At least, I hoped I was in the right place.

  I could see the top of a barn off in the distance to the northwest from my position on the hillside. I assumed that was the barn to which Tamara had referred. I watched it closely for the next half-hour or so, listening carefully for signs that something may have gone wrong. I tried to work out a reaction plan in my mind if that were to become the case.

  As I thought, I felt as if I had two different voices in my head, each pulling me to a different plan of action. One was trying to convince me that if something were to go awry, such as the OSS coming down on her while we were separated, that I must help. I must react to her situation and lend her any support I possibly could. The other voice was reminding me of the millions of survivors who may be depending on me to get the Symbex and continue on my way. If I were to react to a situation, I could be killed, and Ronnie’s plan would die with me.

  Shaking my head, trying to get the thoughts out of my mind, I resolved to simply hope that I wouldn’t have to make such a decision, although I knew deep down in my heart I could not put the mission first and leave her behind. I knew that would be the correct thing to do in the grand scheme of things, but dammit, I’d rather not live at all than to be the kind of person who would turn their back on a friend in need.

  Hearing movement on the hillside just below my elevation to the north, I gripped my Sig 556 tightly and positioned myself in a way to engage a threat coming from that direction, if need be. I knew, however, that if it was the OSS, they’d have likely presented me with such a distraction all while they approached from a different direction, or more than likely, from all sides.

  As my heart rate began to quicken with all of the possible scenarios running through my mind, I caught the silhouette of a rider on horseback, with a second horse in tow.

  “Thank, God,” I muttered aloud.

  I stood and began to work my way toward her, startling her, and causing her to raise her weapon.

  “It’s me,” I whispered.

  Riding up to me, she dismounted and said, “I’ll take this buckskin paint mare, you can ride the quarter horse.”

  Handing me the reins to the chestnut quarter horse gelding, she asked, “So, what’s your experience with horses?”

  “Um, well…” I began to explain. “I guess I haven’t ridden since I was a kid, and even then I’m pretty sure the horse was merely following my grandfather as he walked and wasn’t paying attention to me at all.”

  I could see the look of exasperation on her face as she rolled her eyes, and after a slight huff, she dismounted.

  “Okay,” she begrudgingly began to explain, “This quarter horse is what they call, ‘dead-broke’. That means he’s got no fight left in him, so he’s relatively easy to ride. That’s good for a beginner, but if you really need to make him go and go hard, it’s gonna require some effort on your part. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. The buckskin paint was his herd mare, that’s why I picked her out of the group. She was dominant to him in the herd, so he should have a natural inclination to want to stay with her, making it easier for you to follow me.”

  For the next few minutes, she explained the proper way to mount the horse, how to sit in the saddle, how to hold the reins and all of the associated leg, rein, and vocal cues for the basics of riding a dead-broke horse. “We don’t have time for you to practice,” she grumbled. “You’re just gonna have to learn from experience.”

  Walking back to the buckskin paint, she retrieved a long, slender item and walked back toward me. “Here,” she said.

  Looking at it, I almost chuckled. She had handed me a stick with a string tied to each end, forcing it to bend like a bow.

  “Do I get archery training as well?” I joked.

  “It’s a prop,” she said. “If we’re observed, they’ll see two people riding horses and carrying bows. At a glance, we’ll appear to be the hunters I spoke of earlier. We don’t have time for anything else. We just need to hide our rifles under the blankets on the saddlebags the best we can. If anyone approaches us from up close, it’ll be obvious, but an observer from a distance or via drone may just fall for it. We don’t have any more time to mess around. The sun will be up soon, and that’s roughly when the hunters would typically be spotted. Any questions?”

  “No, ma’am,” I replied sharply. I meant my reply to be a sign of respect for her command of the situation, but for some reason, I felt as if she thought I was patronizing her because I yet again got ‘the look’.

  She held my horse in pl
ace while I mounted. I struggled to get my right boot in the stirrup, having to bend over and hold the saddle fender in place to avoid having to twist my foot too far to get it to align, but once I was in place, I felt right at home.

  “I always loved westerns,” I said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say at the moment.

  She rolled her eyes again, then walked back to her horse, mounted, and rode just in front of me. She looked back, then said, “Okay, let’s go.”

  As she rode away, I squeezed my legs against the horse’s sides like she had instructed, but he just wouldn’t move. She looked back to see my plight, and said, “Relax the reins. You’re too tense and inadvertently pulling back slightly. You’re essentially putting on the brakes and pressing the gas pedal at the same time.”

  Doing as she said, my horse began to go, and Tamara turned and continued riding up the hill toward the ridge. I’ve spent way too much of my life in the city, I nervously thought.

  After an awkward ten minutes or so, I began to feel comfortable with the quarter horse and was able to return my focus to my surroundings and any potential threats we may face. Tamara led us toward the area where they’d apprehended me the previous day—at least I think it was the previous day. I still have no idea how long I was out.

  Tamara reined to a stop up ahead and signaled me to stop as well. Dismounting, she tied her horse to a tree branch and walked back toward me. As she walked, the sun was now coming up over the eastern horizon, and the rays of light were beginning to shine through the colorful trees of autumn while fog started to form in the valley below as the air began to warm and rise. It was indeed a breathtaking morning and a sight to behold.

  “We’re close,” she said, snapping me back into reality. “We found you just up ahead. Where did you hide your pack?”

  Feeling that built-in sense of paranoia began to come over me, I hesitantly said, “It’s just a little further past my observation spot. I’ll go on from here if you can stay and keep an eye out for an ambush.”

  Looking me directly in the eyes as if she was reading me, she asked, “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

  Pausing before answering, I said, “Well, we’re talking about the most precious substance on earth right now. There aren’t many people who wouldn’t kill for it, and you and I both will die without it. I felt the same way about Ronnie at first. I wasn’t sure if he had brought me along as an expendable tool, merely something to discard once he had gotten away from the OWA, or if I was truly his partner. That feeling of paranoia eventually passed, just like I’m sure my present paranoia and sense of uneasiness will as well.

  “To be honest, though, you were my captor until recently. You’ve given me plenty reason to believe what you say, that we’re both on the same team with the same agenda, but this world… well, it doesn’t leave much room for blind faith. I’m sure it will come, though.”

  “At least you’re honest,” she replied. “There’s plenty room for faith left in this world,” she said. “It’s just not easy to have faith in mankind. I have faith in these horses, I have faith in nature, and I have faith in God. And, like you said, I may eventually have faith in you—in due time.”

  I chuckled and said, “If we live that long.”

  “I’ll take a leap of faith in you right now,” she said with a smile. “Like you said, I’ll stay and provide overwatch while keeping a lookout for drones in the sky above. If anything starts to go down, if we’re being watched, I’ll create a diversion so you can get away. Otherwise, if you return with what you said, well, then my faith in you will be a little stronger. If you don’t, and you leave me here, well, then our meeting would have been nothing more than a coincidence and not what I had hoped.

  “If we become separated, work your way south to a place called ‘Old Stone Church’. It’s on the map as a historic sight. It’s an old civil-war-era church that’s been made into a museum of sorts. Meet me in that area. We’ll regroup, and then go from there with whatever hand we’ve been dealt.”

  She intrigued me with what she had said. I thought it over for a brief moment, then sought clarification. “So, you think we were meant to cross each other’s paths or something?” I could see that she didn’t quite gather what I was saying, so I clarified. “I mean, based on your faith and all. I’ve never been much of a religious person. But if you…”

  “We’ll see,” she interrupted with a grin, intentionally leaving me hanging and wanting more. I would be lying if I didn’t admit she was good at keeping me on my mental toes. One minute she left me feeling resented, the next appreciated, and the next, well, I can’t even put my finger on it. All I knew at that moment was that I was glad I was no longer alone in that cruel, miserable world. I just hoped it would stay that way.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As I rode off on my own toward where I had hidden the Symbex during my ill-fated nap the previous day, my heart began to race, and I felt a flurry of activity in my gut. If I came upon the site and the pack containing the Symbex was no longer there, it would all be over. The game would be lost. A lot was riding on what happened in the next few minutes, and I felt the weight of it all bearing down on me.

  Without Tamara and the buckskin paint for my horse to guide on, he was noticeably a bit more squirrelly. My far-below-novice horsemanship abilities were clear to him as he mistook my accidental bumps and pressures as cues, followed by my intentional cue to steer him in the right direction once I had inadvertently caused him to alter course. “Sorry, buddy,” I whispered, rubbing him on the neck. “I do appreciate your patience with me, though.”

  Once I was within fifty or so yards of where I hoped the Symbex would be, I looked to the east at the glorious sunrise, and it was now shining brightly over the horizon. I almost didn’t want to dismount at that moment. The horrible world I had come to know as my new reality seemed to disappear as I admired the beauty and majesty of the natural world, a world that would not change due to the evils of man. It was an odd feeling, but a reassuring one that even if we squandered the opportunities we’d been given on this planet, something of beauty and wonder would remain. Something greater than us would still be here. The sun, the moon, the planets, and the stars would not be at odds with each other, but instead would be adhering to the laws of nature to which they were bound, long beyond our self-inflicted demise.

  Snapping out of my moment of bliss, I clumsily dismounted, causing my horse to start to walk off while I still had my foot in the left stirrup. “Whoa, boy,” I said, easing back gently on the left rein in an attempt to get him to stop before he spooked, and I found myself being dragged through the woods. I now understood why cowboy boots most often have pointed toes, to allow your foot to slide freely out of the stirrup, unlike my heavily-padded, round-toed hiking boots.

  Once he had graciously complied with my request, I removed my foot from the stirrup, and tied his reins to a tree branch, remembering something Tamara had told me earlier. She had explained to tie him only to something he could break free from if he had to, just in case we weren’t around to free him later. In this world, nothing was for sure, and leaving an animal tied up to be mauled by predators, or to simply die of thirst while bound to an immovable object would not be the ethical thing to do.

  “I’ll be right back, boy,” I said as I rubbed his jaw.

  Once I had dismounted, I did my best to stay beneath the visual cover of the trees, just in case I was being watched from above. I knew that if the OSS operators who had tracked Tamara and her group after they had apprehended me had found the Symbex, they could be lying in wait, hoping for my return. They may or may not have had time to piece it all together, depending on the intel they had gathered before the strike, so I knew I had to proceed as if the worst-case scenario was upon us.

  Once the location where I had hidden the pack containing the Symbex was in sight, I knelt and scanned the area, watching and listening for any signs it was a trap. After a few moments of careful observation, I advanced toward the pack.
Pulling aside some brush I had used to conceal the pack, I felt tremendous relief. There it was, lying exactly where I had left it, appearing to be undisturbed.

  Looking around once more, I took the pack by a strap and quickly pulled it free from the brush and slung it over my shoulder, making my way back toward my horse.

  As I approached the horse, instead of feeling a sense of relief, I felt a sense of dread. This was too easy, I thought, expecting all hell to break loose at any moment.

  I climbed aboard my horse with the pack on my back only to realize I hadn’t first untied the reins from the tree branch. “Dammit,” I grumbled as I leaned forward to untie the reins, only to hear the buzz of a high-velocity round go right over my back, followed closely by the delayed report of a suppressed weapon some distance away.

  Freeing the rein, I quickly turned the horse away from the tree, kicked him in the sides, and began riding for my life in the direction from which I had come.

  No! I thought, realizing they must have been watching me the entire time. I immediately changed course, cutting to the left and away from where Tamara should be waiting, not wanting to lead them straight to her, if they hadn’t already found her, that is.

  Hearing the ominous rotor beat of a ground-attack rotary-wing drone appear from over the ridge behind me, I kicked the horse harder, knowing I had to get as much distance as I could from the drone before it got a lock on me.

  I did my best to steer the horse into the thick of the woods, but he appeared to have a different idea in mind, and I didn’t have the skills or experience to convince him to do otherwise. He was heading for what appeared to be a wide open game trail, probably also used by the hunters, which would make us an easy target for the rapidly approaching drone.

  Reaching behind me, I pulled my rifle from underneath the blanket atop the saddlebags and prepared to make a hasty exit from the now out-of-control situation. The horse was apparently aware that the drone was behind him, and saw speed, not stealth, as his best means of escape.