by Victor Zugg
Chet motioned with his chin. “I wonder how long order will last.”
“Not long. Tonight will be the start of chaos I’ll bet, if not earlier,” Sam replied.
Sam steered around the stalled vehicles and people in the intersection and was about to turn left to head toward Ocala when he noticed a police officer in the Walmart parking lot motioning for him to come over.
Chet noticed the officer too. “They’ll seize the buggy.”
“Not today,” Sam said, as he continued the turn and accelerated west.
Soon they were out of the congestion and were able to speed up. They passed several gas stations where a few people stood about and they passed two large churches, one on each side of the road. People filed through the doors of both churches.
Sam looked over at Chet. “Praying might not be a bad idea. By the time this is over a lot of these people won’t be here.”
Chet nodded. “Yep.”
As they continued west, the number of homes and businesses became less and less with fewer and fewer people out and about. Pretty soon they entered the Ocala National Forest where there was only an occasional stalled car or truck, conveniently pulled off to the side leaving the center of the highway wide open.
“There are a couple of old maps, one for Florida and one for the southeastern United States,” Sam said, as he pointed to the glove box.
Chet opened the box, pulled out both maps, and unfolded the one for Florida. “Back roads I presume.”
“Actually, I was thinking the interstates might be better in the rural areas. We can take back roads around the larger cities.”
Chet studied the map a couple of minutes and then placed his finger on a particular spot. “We can turn off on route 326 which goes around Ocala to the north and intersects I75.”
“I like it,” Sam responded.
Chet put the maps back in the glove box, reached in his BDU side pocket, and came out with two granola bars. He handed one to Sam.
***
About an hour later the sign for highway 326 came up, and Chet pointed to the turnoff. Sam slowed for the turn. They proceeded north on the road which soon curved around to the west. Soon, more and more cars littered the road. People were on foot, and Sam had to slow down. Both Sam and Chet kept their gaze moving from side to side on the lookout for anything not kosher, other than the apocalypse unfolding before them. About three hundred yards out from the intersection of route 326 and highway 301 they came upon a group of about fifteen people spread along the side of the road running away from the intersection.
A middle-aged man in the group yelled to Sam and Chet, “They’ve got guns up there and they’ve already shot two people, one was a deputy. I’d turn around.”
Sam and Chet looked at the man and then at each other.
“What do you think?” Chet asked.
Sam looked to his left and right. “Can we go around?”
At just that moment there was a bang from up ahead and Sam heard the whoosh of a bullet as it flew past, just missing the windshield. Two hundred yards up in the middle of the intersection two men, each with a rifle pointed in the buggy’s direction, stood behind a car. Sam heard another bang just as he jerked the wheel to the right and ripped across an open grassy field toward a line of trees. “They want the buggy—they’ll aim to miss it!”
Chet grabbed hold of the dash with both hands. “They won’t aim to miss us!”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
The buggy bounced over grass humps and sped forward until Sam slammed on the brakes inside the tree line. The buggy slid to a stop just short of a massive pine tree.
Chet grabbed the Sig rifle and thrust it toward Sam.
Sam took the rifle, took the keys from the ignition, and lunged out of the buggy. He ran around to the back, unzipped the front pouch of his pack, and snatched the three remaining rifle magazines, each full of 5.56 rounds. He shoved the magazines into various pockets of his tactical pants. “I’m going to head northwest through the trees, cross 301, and try to flank them from the rear!”
Chet nodded. “I’ll try to move up on their front to keep them occupied.”
“Okay,” Sam said, “try to move in when you hear me blasting away. But stay low.”
Chet nodded, and both men moved out at a low trot. Sam zipped through the trees until he emerged onto 301, about one hundred yards north of the intersection. He took a knee in the tall dogfennel lining his side of the road and spent a full minute checking in both directions. Sam saw two men in the intersection. Both stood behind a stalled car and both aimed a rifle in the general direction of where the buggy had left the road. They seemed to be arguing. One was motioning to the other, apparently trying to get him to leave his cover and check out the buggy. Sam also saw a woman with her hands behind her back sitting against the front wheel of a blue pickup to the right of the two men. She would be in the line of fire with a frontal assault. And two other people, also with their hands behind their backs, sat against a large bread truck directly behind the two shooters.
When Sam was fairly sure the two men were occupied more with each other than they were with their surroundings, he sprinted across 301 and dove to the ground as soon as he reached some high weeds. He then crawled the remaining thirty feet to the opposite tree line and got to his feet behind a large magnolia tree. He immediately checked the intersection. One of the men, the one that had done most of the motioning, still stood behind the car. But the other man was gone. Sam looked for movement and finally saw the second man dashing from vehicle to vehicle along the south side of highway 326. He was making his way toward Chet.
Sam was a good hundred yards off of the first man’s left rear flank, all open space. The man was doing a good job of sweeping all areas to his front and sides. He even glanced to his rear occasionally. He would pick up Sam running across the open space in a matter of seconds. Too risky. Sam continued through the trees being careful not to step on any dead branches that might give away his position. He intended to come out on highway 326, west and well to the rear of the first man. He was fifty yards from the road when he heard the sharp report of three shots. They sounded like 9mm—probably Chet. A louder five shots answered. Probably the second man. Sam quickened his pace as shots continued.
A few seconds later he burst into the open alongside 326 and immediately dropped to the ground. There were several stalled cars that blocked his view of the intersection, including the bread truck he had seen before. He couldn’t get eyes on the first man. Sam low trotted from vehicle to vehicle until he was behind a Mercedes at the northwest corner of the intersection. The bread truck completely blocked his view of where he had last seen the first man—standing behind a white Honda Civic.
Sam ran to the bread truck, dropped to the ground, and looked under the truck hoping to see the lower part of the man’s two legs. He saw the backs of the two people reclined against the opposite side of the bread truck, but he didn’t see anyone standing. He hopped back to his feet and made his way to the right, toward the back of the bread truck. He had his rifle shouldered and swept it from his center to his right as he stepped. At the back of the truck, he lowered the rifle and peered around the corner. Nothing—except an occasional exchange of rounds from Chet and the second man further up the highway.
Sam shouldered his rifle and inched forward around the back of the bread truck, between it and the blue pickup, being ever vigilant of his surroundings. He again lowered his rifle and peered to his left around the right rear corner of the bread truck and into the opening between the truck and the white Civic. The two people, a middle-aged man and woman, still sat against the truck with their hands tied and a gag in their mouth. Their eyes were wide open and darted back and forth. To his right sat the woman he saw earlier leaning back against the pickup’s front wheel. She had not moved from that position. Even in this situation, Sam couldn’t help but take a moment to admire her tan, muscular legs and short blond hair. Her hands were tied behind her back and she w
as gagged. Her eyes darted from side to side as she looked up at Sam.
Sam swept all directions including his rear and came up empty. He had just stepped into the opening between the truck and Civic when he heard a light crunch of boots on gravel to his right rear. Sam spun around, but not before he heard a sarcastic “dumbass” from a deep male voice and the sharp crack of a 5.56 round. The bullet split the air just an inch in front of Sam’s nose. Sam dove for the asphalt, banged his knee in the process, and rolled onto his side. He saw a man in jeans, a T-shirt, and a ‘CAT’ ball cap approach fast along the side of the pickup. The man had his automatic rifle pointed straight at Sam’s head.
At the last moment, the young woman with blond hair thrust her right foot forward in front of CAT man. He was so focused on Sam he did not see the foot until it was too late. He stumbled a bit and had to dance to keep his footing. More importantly, he lost his sighting on Sam’s head for a split second. Sam rolled onto his back, raised his rifle, and fired three quick shots. Two caught CAT man mid-chest throwing him backward and to the ground. He immediately dropped his rifle and clutched his chest. Sam got to his feet keeping his rifle on target. With a slight limp, he approached the man until he stood directly over him.
“Asshole,” Sam spat. A second later the light in the man’s eyes went out. Sam reached down and untied the girl’s gag, “Thanks, my name is Sam, Sam Pratt.”
“Anytime, my name is Tiffany Conway, Tiff.”
Sam reached inside his shirt flap on his left side and slid his Buck knife from its sheath. The woman rolled onto her side to expose the nylon zip tie around her wrists. Sam bent down and with a quick flip of his wrist cut the tie. The woman massaged her wrists as she got to her feet.
“Boy am I glad…”
Sam jerked his attention down highway 326, “Excuse me, one more to go.”
Sam took off at a low trot, wincing each time he put weight on his banged knee. He found cover behind the same vehicles the second man had used to approach Chet’s position. Chet and the second man still exchanged shots. Sam saw the second man crouched behind a green Lincoln a hundred yards down and almost directly across from a group of trees on the north side of the road. Chet must be there, Sam thought, pinned down and out-gunned. He only had his Glock 17.
Sam moved to the north side of the cars and low trotted down the highway. He kept his rifle shouldered and ready. He had gone about fifty yards when he stopped and inched around the back of a Buick. He took a quick peek down the south side of the cars. The second man stood crouched behind the same car. Sam slowly brought his rifle around the tail light and took careful aim on the second man who was in full view. The man rose up over the hood to take another shot at Chet when Sam pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. The man spun and went down.
Sam rose and walked slowly forward with his rifle pointed at the downed man. Sam glanced to his left at Chet leaving his cover and heading for the second man, his Glock at the ready. They arrived at the man’s position at the same time. Blood oozed from the man’s left shoulder and from his chest, just above the heart. He looked at Sam as though he wanted to say something. But the man’s eyes went lifeless before he could utter a word. Sam picked up the man’s automatic rifle and handed it to Chet.
“It appears this might come in handy.”
Chet holstered his Glock, took the rifle, and turned it side to side inspecting the components. “Cheap but it’ll go bang. We’ll have to check around for more 5.56 ammo and magazines.
“There’s another one back at the intersection,” Sam offered. “Do you mind going for the buggy?” Sam asked as he threw the keys to Chet. “There’re some people in the intersection that need to be untied.”
“Gotcha,” Chet replied, as he started walking toward where they left the buggy.
Sam jogged back to the intersection and saw that Tiff had already removed the gag and untied the couple. The three of them stopped talking and turned to Sam as he approached.
Sam looked at Tiff. “What happened here?”
Tiff took a step toward Sam. “They stopped me last night; I was out-gunned by the two ARs.”
Tiff then walked down to CAT man, bent down, and removed her XDs 9 from the man’s front waistband. “Asshole!” she said, as she kicked the man in the side. She then bent down, picked up the M16 style rifle next to his body, and examined the components as she returned to Sam and the couple.
“I’m Mildred; this is Ted,” the middle-aged woman said, “same thing, they stopped us in the intersection last night. When we told them we lived nearby, they just zipped-tied our hands and made us sit down. That’s about when this young lady arrived. I think they were interested in what we might have at the house. And they did not keep secret what they had in mind for her. That’s all they talked about.”
Ted pointed to the southwest corner of the intersection. “The deputy over there showed up just after that but he didn’t have a chance. They gunned him down as soon as he stepped out of his car.” Ted pointed to a red Mustang with a man, obviously dead, behind the wheel. “The other gentleman over there came up at about the same time. They opened up on him before the car even stopped.”
Mildred continued, “A few minutes later we all saw the lights in the sky. The two men wanted to leave but none of the cars would start at that point. Without a working car, they couldn’t figure out how to get everyone to my house. So we just sat and listened to them argue with each other. They got real excited when they heard your car coming.”
“Speaking of working cars, I was hoping to get farther down the road in mine,” Tiff said, as she patted the white Civic.
Everyone turned to the sound of Chet arriving in the buggy. He pulled up in front of the Civic, killed the engine, hopped out, and stepped up to the group. “I guess these guys were trying to get an early start on the festivities.”
“Yeah, well, their party didn’t end well, mostly because of this young lady,” Sam said, as he pointed to Tiff. “This is Tiffany Conway. Thanks again Tiff for the footwork.”
Tiff smiled. “You guys did all the heavy lifting. If you hadn’t happened by, we three would have been goners.”
Sam turned to Chet. “This is Chet Stevens. Chet, this is Mildred and Ted.”
Chet nodded and then shuffled his feet. “Now what?”
Sam turned to Tiff. “Where were you headed?”
“My Mom and Dad are in Ohio, that’s where I was headed. Looks like I’ll be walking, but I planned for a long hike. I’ll be fine.”
Sam slowly rubbed his face, starting at his forehead and working down. “I guess, but still.”
Tiff looked at Sam. “I can do it; I’ve done worse.”
Mildred spoke up, “Honey, you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you want.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Tiff replied, “but my parents will need my help.”
Sam caught Chet’s gaze and raised his chin, silently asking what Chet thought. Chet subtly nodded.
Sam caught Tiff’s attention. “Look, we’re headed for Tennessee; you’re welcome to ride along if you want. It will be tight, but we’ll make room.”
“Thanks, but my Mom told me to avoid strange men,” Tiff said with a smirk.
“Chet over there is the only strange one, but suit yourself,” Sam said, as he turned toward CAT man. “Let’s see if these guys had any extra magazines or ammo.”
“I think that beat up old Ford over there was theirs,” Ted said. He pointed at the southeast corner. “I guess Mildred and I will head for home. Thanks again to all of you.”
Sam and Chet both nodded. “No problem,” they said in unison, as Mildred and Ted turned and walked away. Ted paused and looked back. “I’ll get a couple of neighbor friends to come back and help me bury these bodies.”
“Thanks,” Sam said, as Ted turned and caught up with Mildred.
Tiff opened the rear door of the Civic and started pulling out her gear which she laid on the asphalt next to the rear wheel. Chet set out for the
Ford while Sam checked CAT man’s pockets. Sam came up with one extra fully loaded magazine. He walked over and handed it to Tiff.
“You’ll need this,” he said, “and Chet might come up with more.”
Tiff took the magazine and smiled. “Thanks,” she said, as she turned back to her gear.
Sam watched as Chet opened the Ford’s trunk. He reached in and shuffled some items around but came up with nothing. He then started opening the car doors.
A couple of minutes later he came back carrying two extra magazines and two boxes of 5.56 ammo, along with the rifle. “Every bit helps,” he said. He carried the items to the buggy and placed all in the bed. He then walked over to where Tiff was sorting her gear.
Sam entered the back of the bread truck and found numerous cases of various kinds of bread. He grabbed six bags of bagels and then jumped from the back of the truck holding the bags up so Chet could see. “Like you said, every bit helps.”
Chet smiled, nodded, and then turned back to what Tiff was doing.
“We should probably head out,” Sam said.
“Agreed,” Chet said, as he stood up.
He looked down at Tiff. “Do you have room for any rifle ammo? We have some extra.”
Tiff surveyed her pack, two jugs of water, tent, sleeping bag, her first aid kit, food bag, the rifle—and then looked back to Chet and Sam. “Does that offer still stand?”
“It does,” Sam responded, as he and Chet grabbed everything except the pack and started toward the buggy. Tiff followed carrying her pack.
“Okay then,” she mumbled.
