Dystopia (Book 4): The Dark Days

by Cooper, DJ

Dickie raised his eyebrows, cautiously asking, “What information?”

  “They wanted to know about the group that traveled here, it’s because a member of that group has some kind of information they don’t want exposed. Something to do with the whole debacle that has caused this life we now live.”

  Dickie, ever the Brit, and suspicious of everyone, squinted his eyes, saying, “Say you explain what information that might be?”

  Rich said, “I don’t really know for sure, but after Rita was feeling better, tidbits of her memory began to return. I told her not to tell them anything. Then they started hurting her, wanting to know about every member of the group -- Your group.”

  Dickie and Jeremy both looked up at the same time, and then at one another. Jeremy asked, “Our group? Why?”

  Shrugging he said, “I’m not sure why, but luckily for her, her memory was fragmented and incomplete. But more so, that she is one stubborn lady. It gave us time to get ourselves organized. I was assigned to Rita while she was recovering, and I couldn’t take any more suffering in the camp. I’d had more than enough when they started hurting her too. Almost everyone in my unit didn’t agree with anything going on in the camps. All but two of the officers were part of the coup.”

  They sat quietly listening to the story as Rich continued, “The Three government men and the two officers were locked in a shipping container that was used for the detention of uncooperative refugees. We then released everyone else in the camp. Some were just too sick to move. I felt bad, but there was just nothing we could do for them. Most of the military personnel just went to find their families. There were a few that stayed with the sick. The government representatives would soon be missed and someone would come in search of them. The sick were moved to another location; where we later met up with them. Together we liberated another camp, only this one was for the infected.”

  Dickie sat and waved Rich to do the same and said, “Exactly what do you mean by infected?”

  “The camp was one where they kept those infected with Ebola. It was worse than that though, they also brought people there to expose them. It was like a damn death camp.”

  Jeremy sat with a guarded look asking, “When you say liberate, were you in the camp? Were either of you exposed?”

  “No, neither of us came in contact with anyone from the camp and anyone assisting wore NBC suits. Once we got here they tested us anyway and we were cleared.”

  Jeremy asked, “NBC?”

  Dickie replied, “They are protective suits against nuclear, biological and chemical exposure.”

  “Ahhhh,” Jeremy said, asking Rich. “How did you come to be with Rita?”

  “Rita was still somewhat lost and I have no family. I’d grown close to her, even to love her. I went with her to help her find her son. We grew close over the weeks because they wanted me to gain her confidence, but I was never doing it for them. When I saw her stumble into camp that day, covered in scratches, wet, with tattered clothes. I saw an opportunity to save us all. They wanted me to pretend that the camp was not what it really was. She was kept in an area outside the main camp which was made to look like a simple refugee camp. I was only allowed to show her certain areas and I was never to let her see any of the infirmed. It was growing more apparent they would never let her leave…ever. Much of her memory is restored now and she explained some things on our journey. I will tell you that she never told them anything. She must really care about all of you. It gave me confidence that this was a group that could be trusted, and where we needed to be.”

  Jeremy and Dickie looked at each other confused, there was much more to Rita than they ever could have imagined.

  Chapter 2

  “The Darkest Night”

  “As human beings we have the most extraordinary capacity for evil. We can perpetrate some of the most horrendous atrocities.

  -Desmond Tutu

  Back at the farm those with minor injuries were patched up, while thanking God most were not badly wounded. Though they’d only just arrived in camp; John instinctively asked some of the others to a meeting in discussing defenses, and to formulate a plan for moving forward. Some volunteered to work on defense, while others offered to take care of other tasks. The meeting time was set and they would be prepared for a meeting in an hour. The children were protected in the barn, sitting on the sofas and settled in for the night. Most of the others just wandered about lost and worried. John knew it would be a long night, he’d had dealings with this gang along the way. Creating accommodations for the new additions to the group was on the top of the priority list, right behind defense and triage. Everyone seemingly had a task… Except for Matt.

  John knew Matt for many years and was astonished by what he saw. He sat down at the picnic table across from Matt. He tapped his fingers on the wooden top staring into his friend’s eyes. Giving a look but questioning in his own mind; if he had indeed seen, what he thought he saw. Asking him a simple question had garnered a response he was not prepared for, making him sit straight, as though a shock had shot up his spine.

  John asked Matt, “What is up with you and this gang? Don’t bother to lie because I’ve already heard a lot.”

  Matt sat resolute staring off to the woods beyond him, replying, “This is none of your concern.”

  John was outraged that his longtime friend refused to talk to him. It angered him, slamming his hands palm side down on the table as he stood, saying, “Bullshit it isn’t… We’ve been through hell! They killed two of our people along the way. Following us here, your little friend just shot Dez… remember her? Your girlfriend? I’d say this is everyone’s concern right now.”

  Matt sat unwavering in his refusal to discuss it saying, “I’m not going to discuss it.”

  “We know more than you realize, and your own son saw what Morgan did to his mother. I’ll kill you with my bare hands if I find out that you intentionally shot my wife to save that piece of shit.”

  John got up, leaving Matt at the table. As walked off he paused to ask that someone keep an eye on Matt and stormed into the barn to check on the children and the injured.

  The assigned guard sat down, staring at Matt with a look of contempt. The word was already all around the farm that it was Matt who’d shot Amy. Looking up Matt noted the uncomfortable stares in his direction. This made him fidget even more keeping his eyes down while picking at a hole in the arm of his sweatshirt. Around them the farm was busy, a beehive of activity. They were working on security, triage, and preparations for the defense of their homestead. All were involved, some carrying in supplies and food, others digging trenches into the hillside. The oaky smell of the fires gave comfort as the grey smoke wound its way between trees like a beacon in the woods. Each of them determined they would not get caught unaware and off guard again, they worked diligently into the night.

  Sentries posted watched the hillsides for any sign of Morgan and her gang. Long into that silent night not a sound could be heard. The moon was full lighting up the hillside. Shadows seemed to dance in the moonlight teasing the whips of smoke in a waltz to play tricks on the minds of the sentries. It was a crisp and clear night, causing an occasional shiver that would make one look behind themselves for an unseen threat. They were thankful for the moonlight and clear sights but it could also work against them, making them clearer targets. As the wee hours of the morning approached, the frozen breath of the sentries could be seen in the air. The next shift prepared to settle into the routine. The night watch explained to the new shift that each set of two sentries would patrol their predetermined area. One would stay in the trench and keep watch overall, while the other would patrol an area up to roughly two hundred yards into the woods. They were to then switch, alternating every thirty minutes.

  It was at the second switch, when Melinda, who sat vigilant in the trench watching Loel, saw movement in the woods beyond his patrol area. She tapped the signal with two stones to alert Loel and keyed the same signal into the walkie to alert the others. It was
only moments after her signal that shots could be heard on the other side of the farm. The gang was back and seemed to be attacking on all sides.

  Roger and Sam, two of the shrewdest assassins of their own group were high on the ridge overlooking the farm when the shots rang out. They could see the flashes coming from all sides. Having been on recon, they were dressed in dark clothes, with their faces blacked out; making them virtually invisible in the night. They crept upon the first pair of shooters who were crouched behind an outcropping. Sam unsheathed his knife; a marine combat knife, honed razor sharp. Belly crawling, he closed in on the shooters. Roger’s was a Bowie knife, held in hand at the ready; waiting for the signal from Sam to strike. Once in position Sam gave the signal and simultaneously they were on the shooters. Sam grabbing the man from behind, reached his arm across the front of him. As if in a single motion, he drew his knife back; the sticky dark blood flowed effortlessly from the wound, revealing he’d sliced the man’s neck from ear to ear. A low gurgle could be heard as the man crumbled into a heap. Roger’s knife found its mark on the second shooter, penetrating the right side of his neck downward into his throat instantly severing his windpipe. Withdrawing the knife he could see the circle arrow tattoo that made him pause. He’d seen this before, he now knew that this was the same gang that had followed them.

  Covered in blood but not their own, the sticky wet substance glistened in the moonlight on the pair who stalked their next target. The two made their way to the next position of shooters. From their vantage point, they could see two of their friends fall from gun shots near the barn. Whoever was in the trench behind the outhouses, lay slumped over, half in and half out of the trench. Realizing that they had to slow down the shooters they attacked immediately. Roger missed his mark, landing on the shooter and rolling out from the cover of rocks. He fought to gain his balance as the shooter flailed at him with his fists, pummeling his face in a violent rage. Roger repeatedly plunged his knife into the ribcage of his attacker. The man was thin, almost skin and bones. He fell forward revealing his face offering a glimpse of the hollow look in his eyes as he struggled to right himself and climb out from under the lifeless body. Rolling the dead attacker off him and shaking off the uneasiness of the brief look into the man’s eyes. Shaking off a quick shiver, he made his way back to Sam.

  The scuffle drew in three others who were behind them on the hillside. They could smell the filthy trio half way up the ridge as they spread out to surround the two. They closed in on them revealing the bloodthirsty stare. As they prepared to engaged them, shots came from behind. The deadly accuracy striking each with a head shot. Sam and Roger crouched in close in to the large trees to shield themselves from the shots. They stood motionless, as they watched each of them fall.

  Confused, Roger uneasily peered around the tree, looking for their unknown ally. Spotting a man crouched behind a rock, who was clearly with the gang, yet wasn’t shooting at those from the farm but his own guys. Roger looked to Sam pointing to the man and shrugged in confusion. Sam peered around the tree seeking the man. The man looked in his direction giving a thumbs up.

  A huge smile came across Sam’s face as he recognized him. Motioning Roger over he gave him a thumbs up as they made their way in the other direction and continued to seek out shooters in the dark. For what seemed like forever, the battle went on.

  Loel, pinned down in the woods, could see the trench where Melinda’s lifeless body lay, an arm twisted behind her in an unnatural position. With a sighted, bolt action, thirty ought six, he crawled to a large pile of rocks, where he nestled himself in and began taking aim on the flashes he could see in the dark on the hillside. Seeing a flash he positioned the gun and looked into this scope to watch for another to zero in on. Another shot, then another and Loel had his target.

  He whispered, “I’ve got you now.”

  He fired a single shot hitting the shooter dead center in his chest, in the dim light he could see him crumble. Changing his sights to another man, a mere few feet away from the first. He took aim and fired again and missed. Cursing, he continued this exercise of watch the flash and sight, worrying that each time the flash of the barrel could mean another dead or injured friend.

  The shots soon became fewer, the fighting subsided and eventually stopped. The gang once again retreated, question was… for how long? The sky was lightening in the east, signaling daybreak was imminent and would soon be upon them. A time to see to the wounded and take care of their dead. This time would soon come to be known as “Our Darkest Day.”

  Chapter 3

  “The new reality”

  “War demands sacrifice of the people. It gives only suffering in return.”

  -Frederick Clemson Howe

  The morning brought sadness to those at the farm as the realization of the loss of their friends sank in. Each facing the fact that it was all too real. The stories their friends brought off the road were even more than anyone imagined. Melinda killed, and still laid as she had fallen. Her lifeless body in an unnatural position, strewn across the ground half way out of the trench. A pool of blood lay beside her head, where her still open eyes stared blankly into the group gathering around her. Loel approached, he wanted to bring her to the barn. Looking at her lifeless body he observed how she’d fallen, with her gun still slung across her back. Glancing quickly to John and back to the place where she lay. “She didn’t even get to fire the rifle.”

  Lynn and Amanda were also killed while trying to get the goats under cover. One of the goats was shot and lay dying in the pen. Janice came out from the barn, an elderly woman who would remind a person of Aunt Bee from that old show about a town called Mayberry. Carrying the long butcher knife, she casually ended its life by slicing its throat. Looking up she could see Kimmie and Renee grimacing at her. She didn’t know them, they were Matt’s family from the north, but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like them.

  She stood there looking at them, shaking her head, goats blood dripping from her hand and the knife. “Would you rather I just let it suffer?”

  The two looked at one another. Pointing her finger at her open mouth, Kimmie made a gagging sound. Half laughing, they turned and went back to the barn. Janice just scoffed and mumbled obscenities as she set to the task of hanging the goat for butchering.

  Another busy day lay ahead, but this time it would involve the unpleasant task of digging graves. Cameron and Frank were already at the farm and John called on them for help with the unpleasant task. They somberly took on the task; while Laurie cleaned up the girls for burial as best she could. Washing them for a proper viewing. Sewing the canvas only to mid chest she said they were ready. The dead were laid on the ground beside each grave to allow for the others to say their goodbyes. The scent of lavender could be detected when drawing near. Laurie carefully combed their hair and added more lavender, they were now ready. There were no flowers for their graves as they were on winter’s doorstep. The others came over to say goodbye. Some had tears others were simply still in shock.

  Sam came up to them and asked to talk to John. Nodding he handed the shovel over to Cameron and climbed up to talk to him.

  Sam looked worried and said, “Did you notice all of our casualties were female?”

  John nodded saying, “I did notice that. Do you think there’s a reason?”

  Sam replied, “I dunno, just seemed strange.”

  John looked about, thinking, and said, “I think it is just statistics.”

  Sam tilted his head in confusion saying, “Statistics?”

  “Yea, there are more women and children than there are men.”

  Sam’s brow furrowed, thoughtful he replied, “That’s true but I don’t think that’s the reason.”

  “You have another thought?”

  “Yes, yes I do.”

  John waited a moment then said, “Well, let’s have it.”

  Sam stammered, “Yea, right, sorry… I think that most of the women and children are not trained well enough.” />
  “Why do you say that?”

  Sam looked down sadly saying, “I watched Melinda get hit.”

  “You did?”

  “I did, and I think it’s because she didn’t know proper procedures for times when under fire. She popped right out of the hole to take aim on a shooter instead of maintaining cover. They know how to shoot the gun, which we taught them for hunting. They’re not trained in warfare. She wasn’t aware of her surroundings. I’m not sure they should be in the trench like that.”

  John said, “You may have a point there, let’s address it at lunch. This changes things, we may need to rethink our defenses.”

  Sam agreed and started to walk away when John called out to him, “Hey Sam.”

  Sam turned and said, “Yea?”

  “I have a question for you.”

  “Whatcha need?”

  John sighed as he replied, “It’s Matt… What do you think?”

  Sam started walking back towards him. “Honestly? I don’t know what to think.”

  He looked down shaking his head as he continued. “I’ve seen him run right into the line of fire to save Dez, without regard for his own life. But on the other hand, he kept pushing her to add him to the deed for this place. I don’t really know anymore.”

  John nodded and said, “We’ve been friends for years and he won’t even talk to me.”

  Sam replied, “This is a tough one and we are gonna have to see how it plays out. I do know from Tawny, that Dez has a will, and everything belongs to Jeremy and Charleigh, with a contingency clause that names Ariel in the event they can’t take possession.”

  John asked, “Do you think he was trying to get the land?”

  Sam said, “I really don’t know, but there is more than just the land, I guess. Tawny doesn’t, and never has trusted him. She says he’s good with Dylan and stuff. But she also told me that she can’t quite put her finger on it but feels like everything is a con game with him.”