Outlaws of the Midwest | Book 2 | Panic Ensues

by Hunt, Jack

  “You hope.”

  Feng glanced at him and grinned. He was used to Sheng’s disenchantment with China. “Well one thing’s for sure, he’s causing a whole world of trouble.”

  “I’d like to meet him,” Sheng muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

  “You’re more likely to meet his arrow before you meet him.”

  Sheng managed to summon a laugh. They strode away from the doors and surveyed the empty road. “What are we doing here, Feng?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Serving our great country.”

  “And killing innocents.”

  He shook his head, eyeing him through a narrow gaze. “Don’t say that too loud.”

  “Oh, I don’t care anymore. Aren’t you sick and tired of watching what you say and do all the time? I wouldn’t mind if China had a good reason to attack but it seems so meaningless.”

  “You won’t be saying that once we’ve taken the remainder of these states.”

  “What? Do you think you and I will benefit? C’mon, be serious! The only ones who will benefit are those at the top, and I’m not talking about Commander Ju Han or the generals. They are just the government’s bitches.”

  He chuckled and took another hit of his cigarette. “You sound jaded.”

  “Look at the way we were treated before this. Do you think it will be any better? It will be more of the same, Feng. Who do you think will man those factories after all of this? You, me, even that dickhead Lu back there. He’s laughing now but he won’t be later.”

  Feng breathed in deeply, squinting into the morning sunshine. He shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “We can leave. This is our chance. Soldiers are going missing every day. Whether the militia or the Hunter are responsible, no one bats an eye.”

  “Defect?”

  He nodded.

  “Put that out of your mind. Those are thoughts you shouldn’t dwell on.”

  “Why?”

  “You already know.”

  “Feng, they forced your father into this just as they did mine. Now they are dead.” He looked back at the store. “No one would know. We dump the uniforms and disappear into the forest. Hell, we might even find the Hunter and join his group.”

  He laughed. “Join him? If the rumors are true he has no love for the PLA. You will die like the rest have.”

  “At least he fights for a reason.”

  “As do we.”

  Sheng waved him off. “Please. If we do. Tell me why we are invading?”

  A serious expression formed. “It’s not our place to question, only to do.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it!”

  Feng dropped his cigarette and crushed it below his boot then turned to him.

  “You’re buying into those fairy tales again. The militia will be wiped out, China will take this land and then we will see.”

  “See? The only thing we will see is a war between us and Russia. That agreement they have is just a means to an end. Do you really think they would align themselves long term with us? They are using us just as much as China is using them. Alone, we wouldn’t have been able to get this far, and neither would they.”

  He wagged his finger at him. “Careful!” He tapped his ear and pointed. Standing outside the store was Lu Han having a cigarette and watching them intently. They strolled back and Feng walked in. Sheng was in his shadow when Lu placed his arm in front of the door to stop him.

  “Move your arm, Lu.”

  He made a tutting sound and tapped some ash to the ground. He was large, certainly capable of taking out Sheng with one punch if he wanted to, but that didn’t mean Sheng would put up with his crap.

  “You know, Sheng, your attitude is beginning to concern some of us.” He glanced over his shoulder and looked at Feng who was observing them. Sheng had to wonder if he’d shared his concerns with Lu. “I’m sure my father would be more than interested to know your opinions.”

  “Maybe you should tell him.”

  “Perhaps I will.”

  He removed his arm but before Sheng went in he couldn’t resist the chance to take a verbal jab at him. “That is if he lives that long.”

  As fast as he’d removed his arm Lu placed it back.

  “What did you say?”

  “Well, you know what they say about this Hunter. He’s thirsty for blood. And those at the top are on his list.”

  His scowl left and was replaced by an amused grin. “The Hunter is a myth. Nothing more than a tale told by the generals to keep us on our toes.”

  “Well, that seems to have failed to work for you.”

  The smile vanished and just when Sheng thought Lu was going to lash out, a Humvee swerved into the parking lot. A collaborator jumped out, yelling for help as he went around to the passenger side and removed an injured collaborator who was gripping his stomach, his hand covered in blood.

  They raced over, rifles raking the terrain as if expecting to be attacked.

  “What happened?” Lu demanded.

  “An attack. North of here,” the collaborator said, leaning his friend up against the Humvee.

  “By who?”

  “Who do you think? The Hunter. I managed to wrestle one of the guns off them and shot him as he tried to escape, about half a mile from here, up Highway 65. There were six of them raiding a store near Airport Road. We managed to overpower them but I lost three guys and barely got out of there.”

  “And the Hunter?”

  “Lying in a pool of blood. He’s dead,” the collaborator said. “Please. I need a medkit.”

  Lu glanced at Sheng who was wearing a smirk. Before he could say I told you so, Lu bellowed out his orders to the others. One of them brought out a small red medical kit and handed it over. Lu told the collaborator to treat his friend on the way. He was to go with them and show them where it happened. The others hurried toward a large military green truck and jumped in the back while Feng was told to drive. There was a glint in Lu’s eye as if this was the moment he was waiting for, a chance to elevate himself above the rest and take the glory for the capture of the Hunter.

  Sheng sat in the back, his hand tapping his leg nervously, his eyes glancing at the collaborator who was bent over and clutching his stomach.

  “Is he going to be all right?” Sheng asked.

  “He’s strong. I’m sure he’ll pull through,” the collaborator said, pulling out a wad of bandages and instructing the other guy to hold it over his wound.

  Sheng glanced at the others who looked disgusted. The PLA’s relationship with collaborators wasn’t an easy one. Most resented them even though they were an asset.

  The truck rumbled north until it reached the intersection of Highway 65 and Airport Road. Sheng felt the truck slow. As soon as it came to a stop, they all jumped out, guns at the ready, seven of them fanning out, looking at what was left of an attack. A horse was laying on its side, dead, blood streaming away. Several militia members, face down, and then Sheng spotted him. Off to the side of the road, lying in the brush. He noted the mask covering the lower half of his face, a bow nearby, and blood, a lot of it.

  Although he was meant to see this as a victory, he couldn’t help but pity the stranger. His attacks on the PLA had all the making of a revolution. He turned to walk back to the truck and Lu noticed.

  “Where are you going?”

  “You got your myth,” Sheng replied.

  Lu snorted. “That I did. Drag his body to the truck,” he said to one of his guys. “My father will be very pleased.”

  A momentary lapse of judgment from the moonshine caused them to lower their guns. As Sheng climbed into the rear of the truck he noticed the two collaborators were gone. He frowned and gave a knock on the window that divided him from Feng who was driving. “Feng. The collaborators. Where did they go?”

  Just as he asked, guns erupted.

  It all happened so quickly.

  Through the windshield he saw those who’d been lying on t
he ground, believed to be dead, unloading rounds. He dropped to a crouch, his heart pounding as a round speared through the windshield killing Feng instantly.

  A few more echoes of gunfire and then it went quiet.

  Sheng swallowed hard, his hands trembling.

  Setting his gun on the truck bed may have been what saved him from being shot as no sooner had he done it, a face appeared at the rear.

  “Well look at what we have here!” a voice said. A camouflaged militia soldier was peering into the back of the truck and holding a rifle at him. “Out you get, China man,” the soldier instructed him with a nudge of his rifle. Sheng shuffled forward and climbed over the tailgate only to be shoved around the truck to join his fallen comrades.

  His eyes scanned the driver’s side.

  Feng was slumped over the wheel. A spray of blood on the windshield, a few bullet holes with cracks spreading outward. Nearby, up ahead lay the bodies of Lu and the others.

  Suddenly, someone kicked him in the back and Sheng stumbled onto his knees.

  He knew how this would end.

  “I can give you intel. Tell you things. Please,” he said begging for his life.

  He watched as the man known as the Hunter got up off the ground and retrieved a bow from the grass and walked over, tearing off his mask. He was older than he thought he would be. Some had said he was in his early twenties, but this man had a goatee and looked to be early thirties.

  “Intel? Oh you can tell us things, can you?” the Hunter said. “But I’m afraid negotiations ended the day you arrived on our doorstep.” He took out a gun from his thigh holster and brought the barrel up.

  “That’s enough!” a voice barked from behind.

  Sheng didn’t dare move. He could feel the barrel of the 9mm pressed against his forehead. Coming around him, the two collaborators came into view. The one who had looked as if he’d been bleeding was wiping blood off his hands. He was no longer bending over, groaning, or in pain. There was also no entrance wound on his uniform. The two tore off their helmets and removed their balaclavas to reveal a young and older man, the younger one was telling the Hunter to lower his weapon.

  “He’s the enemy,” the Hunter replied.

  “And that enemy might know something. I told you not to kill them all,” the younger one said, placing his hand on the gun and forcing it away. The Hunter looked annoyed as he took a few steps back.

  What was going on here?

  The other collaborator was older, wavy blond hair, beard, and tattoos.

  “Who are you?” Sheng asked the younger one.

  “That’s none of your concern. What do you know?”

  “Please. I don’t even want to be here. There are things I can tell you, things that might help.”

  “Like?”

  “Depends on what you want to know.”

  “C’mon, Miles, he’s screwing with us,” the Hunter said.

  “Lucius, lower your gun!”

  Names. Sheng’s eyes bounced between them.

  “He doesn’t know shit. I say we kill him.”

  The older one interrupted, lifting a hand. “Back off, Lucius.”

  Sheng could have sworn the Hunter’s name was Miles. Not long after the raid on the airport, a message had been delivered: All PLA soldiers were to be on the lookout for someone going by the name Miles Arrington. Sheng screwed up his face, his eyes darting between them again.

  “You’re not the Hunter, are you?” he asked the one who’d removed the mask but was wearing the Hunter’s gear. His comment caught them all off guard, their heads turned toward him, and the one before him named Miles looked at the older one then back at him.

  “What makes you believe that?” He asked.

  “Because we were told his name is Miles Arrington. That’s you, isn’t it?” A pause. “Look, please, I know things. I…”

  Before the words left his mouth, his world went dark.

  He never even heard the gunshot.

  2

  Lincoln, Missouri

  The soldier slumped forward, his bloody forehead almost coming in contact with Miles’ boot. Miles looked down at the dead man with an incredulous expression, then saw red and lunged at Lucius. He grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back. “I told you to lower your gun.”

  Arms outstretched with a smirk on his face, he replied, “I guess my finger slipped.”

  “You asshole!” Miles unleashed a right hook but Gunnar was quick to intervene, grabbing his wrist and holding it back. As fast as he was, Gunnar was unable to stop the swift kick Miles delivered.

  Lucius hit the ground, hands clutching his nuts and squirming in agony. Furious, Miles tried to deliver another kick, this one to his face, but he came up short when Gunnar hauled him back.

  “Miles. Enough!”

  From a kneeling position, Lucius looked up, scowling. “Get your dog on a leash!”

  Miles lunged again only to feel the full brunt of Gunnar’s strength knocking him back several feet.

  “Calm down.” Gunnar put himself between the two.

  Unable to get by him he bellowed, “That soldier knew something.”

  Lucius staggered to his feet, stumbling as he went, wincing and wiping grit from his jacket with both hands while looking on with an amused expression. “He knew nothing! He was screwing with us, biding his time to stay alive.”

  Miles stabbed a finger at the dead man. “He had information!”

  “Highly unlikely.”

  In a flash, Miles launched a third attack, this time it took Gunnar and another militia soldier to hold him back.

  “Enough! Do you hear me? It’s not worth it.”

  “Yeah, listen to your pimp,” Lucius said, picking his gun off the ground.

  “And you need to watch your mouth,” Gunnar replied, glaring at Lucius.

  Through gritted teeth, Miles spoke with Gunnar. “How did he know? Huh? A soldier miles from Camdenton knows who I am. How?”

  He shook his head. “It was only a matter of time, okay? It’s irrelevant. Arguing won’t get us anywhere. We need to leave before more soldiers come.”

  Miles threw a look of death at Lucius as he addressed him, “You go against what I say again, and I will kill you myself!”

  Lucius’ eyes widened, a smile dancing on his lips. “Oh, the mighty Hunter has spoken. I’m so scared.” He chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve bought into your own hype. This is war, asshole, don’t forget it!” Lucius said as he passed them on his way over to the truck. He yanked out the dead soldier from behind the wheel like he was a piece of trash. His body crumpled on the ground then Lucius stepped on him to climb into the cab all the while looking at Miles with a wry smile.

  If it wasn’t for Gunnar, he would have torn him limb from limb. That guy had been pushing his buttons for the better part of two weeks.

  Lucius Manning was part of the group they’d collected from the airport, one of the many out-of-state Americans that were being held until they could be transported north to the railway. Since his arrival among the group, he’d been nothing but a pain in the ass. At first, his offer to help was welcomed. The more hands the better. However, where others strategized, offered their thoughts, and were cautious, he was a loose cannon, a wild card that walked to the beat of his own drum. Miles lifted a finger to Gunnar’s face. “Next time… he’s not coming with us,” he said brushing past him and heading back to his horse.

  A lot had changed since the attack on the airport.

  There had been a major shift in the atmosphere. Whereas before they had needed to stop transport trucks to grow the group, word of his attacks had spread fast and instilled a quiet confidence in the people that hadn’t been felt since the beginning of the war. Now with even more help, people were coming in groups of three, five, or more offering to join them. Just as Gunnar had predicted, just as they had planned.

  With the army flourishing and news that military offshore were gaining ground, hope was once again seen in the faces of those in surroun
ding towns. Still, all the success hadn’t come without multiple setbacks. There were pros and cons to it all. As the group grew, a feeling of distrust grew with it. It was the reason Gunnar had been so adamant about him remaining anonymous. Once the cat was out of the bag, there was no telling what might happen.

  That distrust had revealed itself in deadly ways.

  There had already been three attempts on Miles’ life in the last two weeks, attacks from within, from people among those that they’d saved. The first time was while he slept, the second while he hunted for food, and a third while he bathed. Fortunately, he killed two of them before they got the jump on him, and the other one was taken out by Gunnar who had since refused to let him out of his sight. Of course, this created an even larger problem because Gunnar still didn’t trust Arianna — his wife, and leader of the militia. Trying to watch them both had become a full-time job and one that was getting more difficult by the day.

  Since the attack on the airport, measures had been taken to protect the group by moving location from the Ozark Caverns to two outposts north of Camdenton and one to the south of Eldon. They’d split the group between Stark Caverns and Jacob’s Cave, a decision Gunnar believed was best for them but a decision Arianna had fought him on. “We can’t protect everyone this way,” she’d said. “We never could to begin with,” he’d replied. Then he’d pointed out how the original militia group had dwindled even when they had stayed together. With a lack of trust, Gunnar felt Arianna only wanted them together to make it easier for the PLA if and when they raided them.

  A raid, well, that was still on the horizon.

  Although Miles didn’t trust Arianna any more than Gunnar, he’d told him that if she was working for the PLA wouldn’t it have made sense that they would have been attacked by now? Wouldn’t she have given away their position? He couldn’t answer that. Miles knew Gunnar’s lack of trust had more to do with her infidelity than a belief that she was in cahoots with the enemy.

  Still, without a way to determine who among them was a potential threat, Grady had been placed in charge of the newcomers and was overseeing them at Jacob’s Cave while the rest stayed close to the highway.