by James Cook
“That explains your rank,” Gabe chimed in, “but not what you’re doing out here. S.F. doesn’t just send guys roaming the countryside willy-nilly.”
Steve chuckled. “No, they don’t. The community we’re heading for established radio communication with Bragg and the Springs about a year ago. Command asked for volunteers to recon and collect intel on them.”
I assumed by ‘the Springs’ he meant Colorado Springs. “Looks like you’re doing more than just observing and reporting.” I said.
Steve nodded. “One of my men took a bullet in the arm fighting some of those same scumbags you ran into back on the highway. The wound got infected, and we didn’t have the medical supplies on hand to treat him. Hollow rock has a medical clinic and a doctor living there. I had to make a choice whether to stay on mission, or watch one of my men die when I had the means to save him.” He shrugged. “I made a command decision. It worked out pretty well.”
“Who were those guys?” Tom asked. “The ones that attacked us.”
“Their leader was Ronnie Kilpatrick, former Army Ranger and long-time Carroll County Sheriff’s Deputy. He and his group of miscreants have been robbing, kidnapping, raiding, and generally making life a living hell for everyone in this part of Tennessee for quite a while now.”
“He was a cop?” Sarah asked, a stunned expression on her face.
Steve nodded. “And according to the people who knew him from before, he was a good one. At least until election time came around.”
Gabe snorted. “Let me guess, he decided he ought to be the one running things?”
“Exactly. He had a few heated debates with the mayor, shouted some insults, even nearly came to blows with the sheriff once in the middle of town over in Bruceton. Tore a deep divide among the survivors living there. Mayor Stone won the election by a landslide, but there were a lot of folks not especially happy with the decision. Kilpatrick and some of his supporters retaliated by raiding the towns weapon and food supplies and joining up with a rogue militia group calling themselves the Free Legion.” Steve spit the name out like it tasted bad. “Bunch of psycho-fuck murderers is what they are.”
Considering what I’d seen Steve do in the past I didn’t think he had much room to call anyone a psycho or a murderer, but I let the comment slide. I wasn’t exactly pure as the driven snow myself.
“So Ronnie Kilpatrick and a bunch of these Free Legion idiots were the ones who tried to kill us.” I said. “Do you know how many more of them are out there?”
Steve smiled, white teeth contrasting against his dark face paint. “I’m not sure, but after today, a heck of a lot less. Mr. Garrett took out quite a few of them back there.”
“I had help.” Gabe rumbled, gesturing at the rest of us.
“So they were just lying in wait on that road, hoping someone would come along?” Sarah asked. “Why weren’t they out attacking large communities? Seems like they could net more loot that way.”
“They tried.” Steve said. “They got their asses handed to them by the townsfolk. This isn’t a major metropolitan area out here, its rural and mostly isolated. Just about everyone who lives here owned a gun before the Outbreak, and they’ve been trading food for weapons and ammunition from out west since last summer. The area has fertile soil and plenty of empty fields to plant crops in, not to mention chicken farms and orchards. Food is wealth these days, the kind that can buy safety.”
“So this Free Legion outfit tries to take over the town, fails, and resorts to banditry. That about sum it up?” Gabe said.
“Mostly, yes. They’ve also been actively recruiting and trying to negotiate their own arms deals with less reputable communities.”
“Such as?” Sarah asked.
“There are plenty of places all over the country that can be walled off from the dead and turned into fortified encampments if you have enough manpower and resources to manage the construction and security. The military lost a lot of ordnance not far from here on I-40 back during the retreat across the Mississippi. Anyone who gets their hands on that kind of hardware becomes a force to be reckoned with overnight.”
“Can I ask a few questions?” Brian said, raising a hand as though he were in school. We all looked at him, surprised. He’d been silent for so long I forgot he was there.
“Fire away.” Steve said.
“It was you that helped us when we got attacked, right?”
Steve nodded once.
“Okay, so what were you doing there?”
“The mayor of Hollow Rock doesn’t give away the town’s resources for free. In exchange for giving us some of their limited supply of antibiotics to help my soldier, they required the use of our…unique skill set. They’re tired of dealing with the Legion, and they want to do something about them. My men and I spent the last couple of weeks gathering intel and feeding it back to Sheriff Elliott and the town Mayor. I’ve caught them robbing and kidnapping people a few times, but never when I was in a position to do anything about it. At least until today, that is. I’d been following them for four days, staying out of sight and monitoring their movements. The plan was to track them back to wherever it is they’re using as a headquarters with the rest of the Legion. That was until you folks came along.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “You sure took your sweet ass time joining in the fight.” She said.
Steve’s face went still, his yellowish eyes glittering dangerously. “I was watching them through a spotting scope, out of my rifle’s effective range.” He tapped a finger at the M-14 next to him. “I hustled to within striking distance as fast as I could without exposing myself to enemy fire. Getting myself killed wouldn’t have helped anyone, and no, I’m not sorry it took so long. You were holding your own. I did what I could, when I could.”
“And we’re grateful that you did.” I said, sending a hard stare Sarah’s way. She set her mouth in a grim line and glared right back.
“But what about the other two? You said there were two other men you’re in charge of.” Brian interjected.
Steve’s expression lost some of its tension as he looked back at Brian. “The road you were ambushed on isn’t the only one the Legion is watching. They divide their forces and try to guess where the merchant caravans from the river are going to come from. The locals patrol the nearest choke points, but they just don’t have enough people to cover all the approaches from the west. Most caravans make it through without trouble, but some of them aren’t so lucky. The Legion are a bunch of cowards. If a shipment looks too heavily guarded, they leave it alone. Five people on an ATV with a trailer full of goodies behind them...” He shrugged. “That’s too easy to resist.”
“Or so they thought.” Gabe said.
Steve grinned at that. “I have to admit, I was impressed. All of you fought as one, not many people can do that.”
“But here’s what I don’t understand.” Tom said. “Why did they offer to let us leave? If they’re so ruthless, why didn’t they just kill us right away and take our stuff?”
That same thought had occurred to me as well, and I was fairly certain I knew the answer. “If I had to guess,” I said, pointing a finger at Sarah, “it would be because of her.”
“The hell do you mean?” She asked, frowning.
Steve glanced my way and nodded. “I know this is going to sound horrible, but women are the most valued commodity available to the marauder communities.”
Sarah paled at that. “So what you’re saying is-”
“They wanted you alive.” I interrupted. “That’s why they tried to get us to lay down our weapons and walk away. If we’d have done that, they would have killed everyone except you and taken you prisoner.”
“That explains why Ronnie ordered his men to cease fire when they had us dead to rights.” Gabe said, and slammed a palm into the boards beneath him. “I should have seen it coming. I should have backed off and gone another way. I should have fucking seen it.”
“Stop that shit.” I snapped. Gabe turned hi
s angry gaze toward me. “You’re not perfect, Gabe. You’re human, and you make mistakes just like anyone else. No one here blames you, especially not after how hard you fought to get us all out of there alive. And we are alive. We wouldn’t be if not for you, so cut the self-recrimination bullshit already.”
Gabe stared at me a moment longer before his anger faded. He looked down. “Thanks, I think.”
“So what now?” Brian asked. “I mean, what’s going to happen when we get to Hollow Rock?”
“We’ll get you to the doctor to treat your wounds, and get you some hot food. I need to brief the town leadership on what I learned and check on my unit to make sure they kept the undead away from the crops.”
“Why do they need to do that?” I asked. “I thought walkers only ate meat.”
“First of all, Riordan, your speech is slurring pretty bad. You’re obviously high on those painkillers. I’m guessing that’s why you’re asking me such a dumb question, but I’ll answer it anyway. The undead don’t care about crops, but they can still trample them. That kind of thing will ruin a harvest.”
“Oh, right.” I said. I leaned my head against the boards behind me and closed my eyes. Maybe it was the strength of the drugs, or opiates combined with blood loss, or maybe both, but I was getting seriously woozy.
I’ll just rest my head awhile. I thought. Just for a minute.
The conversation around me grew dim and distant, and then the world went black.
*****
The smell of wood smoke drifted to me through the darkness. My eyes fluttered, and I sat up to look around. I expected to feel pain from my gunshot wound, but it didn’t come. I ran a hand over my side only to find that the flesh had healed. Strange.
From what I could see in the gloom, it looked like I was under the roof of one of the many bare shelters that stood along the Appalachian Trail as resting places for hikers. I couldn’t remember how I got here, but for some reason it didn’t strike me as anything to worry over.
Man, did that fire smell good.
I got my feet under me and set off in the direction it was coming from. A couple of miles passed before I saw the glow of a campfire off in the distance. I increased my pace, and soon stepped into a wide clearing under a bright canopy of stars.
A lone figure sat on a low stool poking at the fire with a stick. He looked up at me with a smile, and motioned me over. I stopped short and gaped at him in shock.
“Close your mouth and come on over here son,” He laughed, “You look like a landed fish.”
I forced my feet into motion and sat down on the ground across from him. “Dad? Is it really you?”
He shrugged. “More or less. As much of me as can be here, anyway.”
He looked exactly as I remembered him. Tall, lean, and broad-shouldered, with dark eyes, dark hair, and movie star good looks. It was the same face I saw in the mirror every morning, albeit with my mother’s blond hair and blue eyes. Even in his late forties, my father was still a handsome man.
At least he was, until a stupid drunken bastard named Mark Kasson drove a Ford F150 into his Mercedes head-on at over eighty miles an hour. Pain shot through my stomach as the memory of my mother on a hospital bed with tangles of wires and tubes streaming out of her assailed me. I shut my eyes against the image to drive it away.
“It’s good to see you again, little buddy.” My father’s voice washed over me like a warm breeze, soothing away the pain. It had been far too long since I’d heard that warm baritone.
“Been a long time since anyone called me that.” I said, smiling up at him.
He nodded. “You always got mad at me when I called you ‘squirt’, so little buddy it is.”
I laughed. We sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke again.
“Things have been pretty tough for you, haven’t they son?”
“You have no idea.” I replied, my smile fading.
“I’ve been watching over you as much as I can, but we’re pretty limited here on what we can do to help. I can guide, but I can’t interfere.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Dad gave me a sad smile and shook his head. “I didn’t come here to talk about that, you’ll find out when the time comes, same as everybody else.”
I let that sink in for a moment. “What about mom? Is she coming?”
Dad shook his head. “I’m afraid not son, she’s already moved on. I will too, eventually, but I have some things I need to do first. Unfinished business, you might call it.”
“Like what?”
“Like what brings me here tonight. I need you to listen carefully, son, and trust me. It took a lot to get what little time we have. Let’s not waste it.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you to, at least not yet. Things are happening, and you’re going to be in the middle of it, whether you know it or not. You need to know that the decisions you make in the days ahead are going to have far-reaching consequences. Not just for you, but for everyone.”
I shook my head. “I don’t follow. What’s happening? What am I supposed to do?”
He gave me that same sad smile again. “You have it in you to be a leader, son. You just need to stop being so damn impatient all the time and learn how to trust people. You can’t be everywhere, and you can’t do everything. Find the strength in yourself to see the good in others. It’s there, I’ve seen it.”
He got up and came around the fire. I stood and faced him. “Dad, none of this makes any sense. I don’t know what you want me to do. How are we even here?” I held my hands up in frustration. Dad smiled and laid a hand on my shoulder.
“Your friend Gabriel is a good man. He has a lot to teach you if you let him. His responsibilities are no less important than yours, but there are others taking care of his end of things. I’m here for you.”
He saw the confusion on my face, and laid warm hands on my cheeks, looking me in the eyes just like he used to do when I was a little boy.
“I want you to know I’m proud of you, son. You’ve had to deal with a hell of a lot, and things are only going to get harder from here on out. Just remember what I told you. Remember to believe in yourself, and never forget to believe in the people who care about you. That’s the best advice I can give you.”
He took his hands from my face and pulled me into a strong embrace. I hugged him as hard as I could, blinking back tears and trying to breathe through the lump in my throat. He even smelled like he did when I was a kid, expensive cologne and hickory smoke.
“I love you Dad.” I choked out.
My father leaned back and held me by the shoulders. “I love you too, son, and I’ll always be with you.”
He gave me one last smile and then turned to walk away. I tried to follow, but my legs wouldn’t move. I struggled in vain, rooted to the spot.
“Wait, Dad, don’t go!”
It was too late. The fire dimmed into a dull orange glow, and my father’s silhouette vanished into the gathering darkness. My sight went dark, and I felt myself falling…falling… and then—
“He’s waking up.”
Chapter 13
The Journal of Gabriel Garrett:
Scar Tissue
Things have gone about as well as I could have hoped for since we got here. Brian’s leg is on the mend, and my shoulder is healing up nicely. Eric, however, was in serious trouble for a while there. The bullet that tore through his side caused significant internal bleeding and put him at risk of a life-threatening infection. Our supply of antibiotics kept the wound from festering, but he came frighteningly close to dying of blood loss. The doctor spent a couple of hours working to repair the damage by stitching him up on the inside where the bleeding was the worst. Thankfully, he remained unconscious throughout the operation.
The reception we received from the people of Hollow Rock has not been universal. Some folks were kind to us, and put us up in an unoccupied doublewide trailer inside the town’s security peri
meter. Others regard us with suspicion, and have made it clear they do not want anything to do with us. Steve vouched for our honesty by telling anyone who would listen how we took out nearly two dozen Free Legion raiders, but we still get suspicious stares when we walk down the street. Most folks are content to leave us well enough alone, and that is just fine with me. I don’t want to be here any longer than it takes to get my group healthy and ready to move on.
The local sheriff, a lean, hawkish-looking man with a stern face and a big pearl handled Colt revolver, took our cart into custody for ‘inspection’. I advised him that I knew exactly everything that was inside of it, and would be doing a thorough inventory when (not if) he returned it to us. He smiled at that and assured me nothing would be taken, so long as it didn’t pose a threat to the community. We shook on that. True to his word, he had one of his deputies deliver it back to us the next day.
Doctor Allison Laroux (pronounced la-roo) was not at all what I was expecting when she met us at the front gate. Maybe I’m just stupid, but I always picture doctors as old men with white coats and sour expressions. Doctor Laroux is a brown-haired little slip of a girl who prefers jeans and work boots rather than scrubs, and wears a big Taurus pistol on her hip everywhere she goes. She handled Eric’s surgery with a confidence and clear-minded intelligence that belied her youthful appearance. A couple of days later she told me that Eric would most likely make it. I thanked her, and asked her what I could do to pay her back.
“I’ll leave that up to the Mayor.” She said. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t ask for anything, but it’s not my decision to make.”
“They don’t let you decide what to charge for your services around here?” I asked, feeling a little uneasy.
She laughed and waved the comment away. “Of course they do, I just don’t charge anything. The Mayor understands how valuable a doctor is, even one who only graduated from med school three years ago. The town voted on a referendum last year to allow her office to charge travelers a fee for any services provided by the town’s registered citizens. Almost everyone voted in favor of it. She doesn’t usually invoke it unless someone has something that the town desperately needs.”
