Joshua (Book 1)

by John S. Wilson

  When this first started, he considered just leaving them, finding a small boat and crossing the Ohio on his own. But now the man could see their chances of getting home were considerably less without his help.

  But he had to be honest, he owed his new friends at least that much. The man told them about his own experience in Nashville and how he had to kill that boy. He also had to confess that when the time came he wasn’t sure he could do it, that he could kill men “in cold blood.”

  Edgar and especially Brad were noticeably disappointed with him but said they could understand. The three of them then got back to the maps, notes and sketches and Edgar said he was sure they could still “work it out.” After more planning Brad seemed certain of it too.

  With some more discussion it was decided that Brad would take the man’s rifle and his part on the north side of the river. Brad was the better shot between him and Edgar. Edgar would drive and kill the guards on the south side of the bridge and the man would attach the chains and help move the cars out the way. Edgar told the man he was “glad you were honest with us” and was positive their plan would still work out fine.

  The fourth of November was when they put their plan into motion and the day started early as all of them had trouble sleeping. They had another hardy breakfast of more venison and continued to go through the plan on paper and in their heads until they all knew it by heart.

  As the long day dragged on they watched the various bridges. Nothing unusual happened except one of the trucks arrived back again from Indiana early that afternoon weighed down with more supplies. They also had their fill of deer meat that was now nearly gone.

  This had been the first time since his journey began that the man was truly full, and finally satisfied both his body and mind were up to the task at hand. During the afternoon, they took some naps, ate again and tried not to think too much about what they were about to do.

  By 7:00 p.m., it was completely dark and time to go. The three quietly made their way down the stairs to the third floor where their ladder was. After listening a short while for intruders, they put the ladder back down and descended to the ground floor. Brad and the man exchanged guns and magazines and a wish of luck. Edgar and Brad then shared a brotherly hug and then Emmett turned and started briskly walking alone, towards the railroad bridge west of their position.

  With Brad gone, the man and Edgar both silently made their own way south down an alley to their vehicle hidden in the parking garage two blocks down. In the complete stillness of the night they decided it best not to start the motor but push it the entire way. They cleared the Humvee and checked that the chain was still inside and it was topped off with fuel. They then pushed it down to the exit ramp and coasted a block before it slowly rolled to a stop. From there on they were pushing and it was 10:35 when they quietly approached and stopped on the corner, just out of sight of the bridge and its current owners.

  They both set down in the street, their backs against the Humvee. Edgar checked his watch and radio and then showed the man the controls of his M4 again. He then whispered the plan to the man one last time. “Brad will be ready at exactly twenty-three oh five … five after eleven. I’m going to move up into position myself in a minute. When you hear the gunfire you’ve got to come right up. You know we don’t have any time to waste so as soon as you hear shooting cross the bridge, go as quick as you can and stop on the left side of the roadblock … right next to the cars.”

  After another wish of good luck, Edgar then left himself, leaving the man sitting there in the dark wondering if this was all a bad dream, or maybe the day he was going to die. The man checked his own watch and it was now 10:39. He sat there waiting in the shadows, trying not to think too much about what would soon happen. At long last, he decided it was time to get ready too and got into the Humvee, gently shutting the door behind him. It was now 10:55.

  He sat behind the wheel in the rank air with the windows up, watching his watch, each new minute coming even slower than the last. Eleven oh five finally came but the sound he waited for did not come. Fear suddenly overwhelmed the man. What if they’ve been caught? What if my friends are dying? Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a rifle firing, his own that he recognized from many times before.

  Now he could hear it again and with it the burst of a full auto could also be heard. He tried to start the engine and with a moment of hesitation it finally came to life. The man put it into gear and tore around the corner as fast as he could while negotiating the debris in the street. He shot up the ramp and quickly approached the bridge and now with a clear road ahead floored the pedal. Racing towards the center of the bridge his lights finally caught Edgar waiting for him there, three dead men limp on the ground between them.

  Just as they planned, he stopped the truck just short of the blockade, put the brake on, and quickly exited, then taking the chain from the back. As he stepped out he could now hear new sounds of rifle fire from the Kennedy and the loud shriek of an alarm off in the distance. He could also hear Brad on the radio attached to Edgar’s belt.

  “Two or three over there firing at us, but they’re just shooting blind. At that distance they’re lucky to hit the bridge at all ... but let’s hurry it up!”

  The man was just trying to be calm and stick to the plan although inside he was petrified. While Edgar got back in the Humvee the man hooked the chain around the frame of the first car and then to the hitch on the front. “Okay, backup!”

  Edgar quickly pulled the car back and off to his right, a shower of sparks shooting from the bottom of the car.

  Brad came over the radio again, “Nobody coming from the Kennedy yet … wait! They’ve got two trucks tonight and here they come! One on each side of the river!”

  The man unhooked the chain and picked up the slack, running ahead of Edgar as he brought the Humvee back into position. Now a dozen or more men were firing at them from the other bridge although they still couldn’t manage a hit near them. The man then crawled on the ground securing the chain to the second car and jumped back to his feet again. “Ready!”

  Dragging the second car back with the sparks again flying, Edgar pulled it about ten feet beyond the first. The man then unhooked the chain and hurriedly led the Humvee back for the last one.

  Once more Brad interjected from the radio, now in Edgar’s hand, “I can’t see ’em on the Kentucky side anymore … but I can hear them coming! They must’ve went down to First and Jefferson! Hurry up!”

  The roar of the truck approaching at first seemed distant to the man but was becoming uncomfortably closer with each passing moment. He tried not to think about it and returned to running the chain through the frame and front bumper of the last car preventing their freedom. “It’s ready!”

  With a leap, the Humvee pulled the last one out of the way, a tall shower of sparks momentarily lighting up the bridge as Edgar pulled the derelict past the other two. The blare of a truck fast approaching rang through the deserted city streets.

  Unhooking the chain from the front of the Humvee, another idea came to the man’s mind, “Edgar, pull up!”

  Rolling the truck up Edgar stopped when the man motioned, he then hooked the chain back up to the rear hitch and quickly came around the front again, “Okay, pull up … but easy!”

  Edgar eased the Humvee forward and then with a sudden jerk the car still attached spun around and slowly started to follow him.

  The man continued to motion him through the hole they just made. “Keep coming!” He then carefully guided Edgar up the narrow opening constantly watching both sides as the vehicle crept forward, the man hoping they wouldn’t damage the tires on the curb or the junk cars as they went through.

  The sound of the truck engines continued to get louder and louder as it echoed through the quiet streets, now only a block or two away.

  Finally the Humvee was through and unharmed and the wreck of a car plugged up the hole behind them.

  Edgar’s words relived the man’s tension, just sl
ightly. “Good thinking! Okay, get in! Let’s get out of here!”

  With that, the man quickly undid the chain one last time and returned to the passenger side. The man climbed in but before he could even shut the door their Humvee jumped forward, on towards Indiana, to safety. On one side of them the sound of rifle fire, and on the other a raging truck motor that came ever closer. He could hear its tires screeching around the corner as it finally came into view on the south end of the bridge.

  As the man finally shut the door they could see and hear the sound of Brad’s rifle firing off at the distance on the north end of the bridge, the headlights of a lone pickup truck the only clue to his target. The lights raced through the side streets, disappearing for a few moments and then reappearing again as it bounced onto the on-ramp blocking their escape.

  At last Brad came on the radio again, “Watch out guys! They’re four of them in the truck and they’re coming right at you!”

  Suddenly the truck swerved in front of them at the end of the bridge, turning itself into an improvised roadblock. Behind the truck they could see the muzzle flashes of Brad’s rifle firing from the cover behind an ancient brick building. The man then looked back just in time to see the other truck approach the blockage behind them and slide to a stop. Edgar floored the gas and the Humvee rushed towards the last obstacle holding them back.

  As they rapidly advanced on the truck they could see the driver slumped over the wheel, Brad confirmed on the radio. “I got the driver! Maybe another too!”

  Edgar continued to hold the accelerator to the floor, “I think we can get by! Keep your head down!” As they quickly drew near the makeshift blockade they could see the distinctive muzzle flashes of two different guns behind the truck, and the rifle of Brad further behind.

  Just as they were about to pass, one of the guards ran out into the road with a small wooden box, and from it was a small length of wire leading back to the truck.

  The man suddenly had a bad feeling. “Stop! Edgar, stop!” But it was too late to do anything but run over it, and as they did there came a deafening roar.

  His ears were ringing and before the man could think what to do the truck repeatedly slammed up against the curb, finally coming to a slow rolling stop about forty feet beyond.

  To his left Edgar was lifeless, his head wedged back against the seat and door. The man started shaking his friend trying to revive him but he wouldn’t come to. He then opened his own door and suddenly the volume was turned up, the sound of the two rifles behind and Brad’s in front of them in an upper window of a desolate building.

  The man quickly grabbed his rifle and took a safe position behind the front wheel of the vehicle. He popped up over the hood and began firing himself at the two flashes that had now moved to the opposite side of their truck. Then a stray bullet hit one of their tires, the sound of it exploding almost as loud a gun. Behind the truck he could see three more men coming from the far end of the bridge and they were firing too. He targeted the truck and then turned on those approaching from the roadblock, shooting a few times each and then switching again.

  After a few seconds the man was surprised to find his rifle stopped working. He dropped back down behind cover and was sure there was something wrong with his gun. A quick glance discovered the problem. It was empty although he didn’t know how, he was sure he only fired ten or twelve shots and the magazine held thirty. He inserted another mag after first making sure it was fully loaded. He then slapped it in and dropped the bolt as Brad and Edgar had shown him. Finally he checked to see if it was on full auto. He jumped back up, using the hood for support. All this time the firing continued from behind and in front of the man. He took aim on another one by the truck but before he could pull the trigger the guard grabbed his face and dropped right to the ground.

  From the south side of the bridge the three were still fast approaching, shooting and running as fast as they could.

  The man could see the last one behind the truck was firing on Brad’s position and was paying no attention to him in the frenzy of killing. He took careful aim, trying not to think of the others still rapidly advancing. He waited for the soldier’s head to again come into view knowing he would have less than a second to respond. Finally, the guard’s head bobbed up from behind the truck and as he pulled the trigger it disappeared in a spray of blood.

  He turned to the three running right at him with just enough time to see one stumble and fall. The man then fired on one of the two still coming. Nothing seemed to be happening and he pulled the trigger again and again until at last the guard grabbed at his belly and then tumbled, landing lifeless on the ground. He then took sight on the third but he was already dead before the man could fire.

  The man just stood there behind the cover of their vehicle quickly shifting between the five men he could see there on the ground. He was sure that one or more would get back up at any time. After a long while waiting for the dead to arise, the ringing in his ears was pierced by shouting coming up from behind.

  “Are you all right!? Where’s Edgar!? Why didn’t you answer the radio!?”

  He turned around the see Brad standing there holding his rifle and wasn’t completely sure what he was doing there or what his friend had said.

  Brad wasted no more time with the man’s blank stare and ran around the Humvee and opened the door. “Edgar, you okay?! Edgar!” Brad started to shake him and then softly slapped his face a few times, the life slowly returning to his childhood friend. “He seems okay, he doesn’t look hurt.” He turned back to the man who was still staring at him with his vacant eyes. “How ’bout you? Are you okay?” Brad started waving his hand in front of the man. “I need your help. We can’t stay here. There’s another guy down by that truck and probably more coming. Help me get Edgar out.” He looked back, the man still watching him from a haze. “COME OVER HERE AND HELP ME!” After several more tries Brad’s screaming eventually reached the man.

  “I’m okay … I’m okay …”

  Brad got up and gave the man a few good shakes before he was completely back again. Then they both pulled Edgar from the vehicle and laid him out on the curb behind cover. Brad then jumped in the Humvee while the man attended to their friend. As the man helped Edgar back to his feet, in the background he could hear the sound of the truck’s engine turning over, end over end. Then the two of them together staggered around to the driver’s side, Brad still trying to get it started.

  “Come on girl … come on.” Brad sat there frantically flipping the starter again and again and then he was relieved as it finally roared to life. “Okay, everybody in! Wait … let me try something.” He put it in gear but nothing was happening, he then floored the accelerator, the engine was roaring in their ears but still the truck wouldn’t budge.

  The man stood there helping hold Edgar up who was still in his own stupor. Brad continued trying to coax the selector and gun the engine. “This thing isn’t going anywhere. Something’s wrong with the transmission.” He took the binoculars from around his neck and handed them to the man, “Take a look around and tell me what’s happening.” Brad then got out and crawled underneath while the man helped Edgar sit down on the curb.

  The man took a good look down by the obstruction, and then all around him.

  From underneath the truck Brad questioned him. “What do you see?”

  At long last the man felt himself again, “There’s one guy down there, he looks like he’s hooking up his truck and trying to move that one car blocking him. West of us, on the Kentucky side I can see several flashlights coming. They’re way down river, must be coming from the Sherman Minton, looks like they’ll be a while. Nothing else on this side.” The man then ran to the east side of the bridge and yelled out a report. “The Kennedy is our biggest problem. There’s about … fifteen or twenty getting geared up over there, rifles and body armor. They won’t be too long, even on foot ten minutes at most.”

  Crawling back from underneath Brad also had nothing but bad news, “It�
��s no use. The transmission is probably shot. I can’t get a good look at it here in the dark, this flashlight just isn’t enough. I don’t know what’s wrong but obviously we don’t have the time to fix it.” He then turned to his friend, “Edgar, you all right?”

  Edgar was massaging the back of his head and was now part of the discussion again, “Yeah, I’m doing better.”

  Suddenly they all turned, hearing the distant noise of scraping metal, the last guard dragging the car back and clearing the obstacle.

  Brad looked directly at the man, “You think you could hit that truck from here? I know I can’t … looks like over five hundred meters. Your rifle is on the curb! Try!”

  The man handed the binoculars to Brad and ran for his rifle and with his own gun again seemed more at ease, “I’m going to use the hood of that truck, spot me!” He then ran and set up his rifle on the truck and braced it against his arm. “I’ll try to stop it when it comes through … see if we can’t jam it up again.”

  Now the truck was slowly squeezing through the narrow passage and Brad was getting nervous, all three of them could hear it in his voice. “Here it comes! You won’t get many shots before it’s through. Edgar, keep an eye on that other bridge over there!” The man took careful aim and squeezed the trigger, Brad watching the shot. “Low … you hit the running light on the right side. What are you aiming at?”

  “The tires … I figure about two feet under each headlight,” the man not taking his eyes off the target.

  “Tires hell! Shoot the driver! Shoot the …”

  The man fired another round interrupting his friend. The truck’s light visibly dropped on the right. The man then took steady aim, held his breath and pulled the trigger once more, the other truck’s headlight noticeably dropping. With that, it slammed into the junk cars and came to an abrupt stop.