by Hunt, Jack
5
Gunnar Nelson
Fear made him drive the horse hard through the woods. Although he didn’t like to have Miles out of sight after the recent attempts on his life, he figured he wouldn’t be more than thirty minutes behind him. There were only a few more trail cams left to check.
It had been Gunnar’s decision to relocate from the Ozark Caverns. Logic told him that the PLA would strike back, and he was right. Attacking food supply trucks and human transporters was one thing but destroying their air supply, taking prisoners out from underneath their nose, and stealing MREs, that was the final nail in the coffin.
Within a day of leaving, reports came in that soldiers had been sighted in the vicinity of the old settlement. Now with Davenport dead, they would have to move again.
There was no telling what he’d told them.
Arianna wouldn’t like it but with the group having grown beyond several hundred, there was a lot more at risk. It was the reason why he’d suggested to Miles that they break away from the group. While he understood that together they were stronger, the downside was strangers could infiltrate and he was tired of keeping one eye open at night. On the other hand, he didn’t want to abandon them completely as they had accomplished more with them, but the lack of trust was becoming a major issue.
His horse raced across the hilly landscape, darting between trees as he muttered a silent prayer under his breath, hoping that he wasn’t too late. As Gunnar burst into view of the tree people, he heard one of the above yell down to the crew.
“It’s one of us, let him through.”
Had he been a threat they could have cut a rope and nets buried below leaves would have instantly lifted and swallowed him and the horse.
Gunnar dismounted while the animal was still moving.
A teen boy was ready to take the reins and lead the horse into a makeshift stable recently created. It was all covered by heavy camouflage netting and leafy branches and would have never been seen from above.
As he handed off the reins, he glanced toward a knot of people.
The camp was alive. No one sat around.
Nearby someone was monitoring a ham radio that was running off a small generator powered by a large battery that received its juice from the sun. All ages chipped in carrying buckets of water into the camp, men and women washed clothes and took turns cooking, while others peeled potatoes and helped to prepare three meals a day.
It was these arduous day-to-day tasks that were made easy by having more in the group. They worked in shifts while their best snipers kept watch over the perimeter of the camp. They’d even recently installed battery-powered motion detectors. These alerted the tree people to anyone approaching by illuminating tiny LED bulbs. This not only let them know which direction people were heading but it meant they could be ready.
Of course, animals had been known to set them off from time to time but at least this way it kept everyone on their toes. As it wasn’t a matter of if the PLA would attack, only when and how.
With his back sweating, he welcomed the coolness of the cave as he stepped through the mouth and was met by numerous militia. Some were laying in hammocks slung between rocks, others cooked over small holes covered by grills.
The subterranean lighting worked off power stored in batteries that were powered by sun, wind turbines, and hydropower generated from rushing streams in the area. What they couldn’t find in the forest they searched for in the northern town of Eldon. At one time, the population of Eldon had been greater than Camdenton — not anymore. Two-thirds of the residents were gone, sent to the railway. The rest were dead or missing.
“Where’s Arianna?” Gunnar asked Scarlett as he passed her through the maze of irregular shaped tunnels. Around them, the militia were carrying in or out different goods in bags or boxes they’d collected from nearby villages, homes, or towns.
Scavenging had become a priority especially since they needed batteries for the trail cams. All the food they’d gathered from the airport they’d split between the two camps. Supplies were heavily guarded by militia at all times and stored in an area not far from Arianna. Of course, he knew that was so she could dip into it whenever she wanted.
Gunnar glanced at those around who offered to carry in boxes. He passed by two girls; one was calling out different items while the other scribbled items on a pad of paper.
“She’s in her office,” Scarlett replied, jerking a thumb behind her. “Where’s Miles?”
“He’s checking trail cams,” Gunnar replied. “He’ll be back soon.”
By office, Scarlett meant an area of the cavern that Arianna had declared her own and outfitted with gear: a camping chair, a folding table, her own personal solar shower. It also doubled as sleeping quarters. There were a few areas like that — smaller rooms, if they could even be called a room as stalagmites hung from the ceiling, giving the whole place a creepy-ass feeling. Gunnar refused to stay inside. A simple outdoor hammock or lean-to worked for him.
Ducking to avoid the low ceiling, Gunnar climbed through an angular tunnel and found her deep in discussion with two strangers. Guys he hadn’t seen before.
“Gunnar?”
“Sorry, am I interrupting?”
“No, they were just leaving,” she said before they slid past him.
He waited until they were out of sight before asking, “Who were they?”
“Part of a militia north of here called the Watchmen. I’ve been in talks with them and others in the surrounding counties. Tomorrow I have a meeting arranged.” She ran a hand through her hair. “There’s been an incident.”
He narrowed his gaze. “An incident?”
“Twelve militia members that were set to meet in Springfield have been murdered. Liberation Radio is calling it one of the largest strikes since the arrival of the PLA.”
“Millions versus twelve people. Hardly,” he replied.
“It’s not the numbers, Gunnar, it’s who they are and who they represent,” she replied. Arianna crossed the room and collected a pad of paper, flipped over a few sheets then handed it to him. He scanned it. There was a list of names. He knew a couple. He should have been moved by the loss but he wasn’t. Gunnar was beginning to wonder if he cared anymore. It seemed like every week they were hearing of someone else that had died.
His involvement with the militia was born out of necessity, not choice. Before the war, he had no desire to run around in a military uniform. He’d done that as a Marine. He’d served and put in his time and had hoped to leave that behind him. Instead, he’d chosen to pass on to others survival skills, things he’d picked up not just through his time in the military but from his childhood, from his father, the one man that had instilled in him a love for the outdoors.
But now here he was, after the destruction of the airport, back with the militia, helping out, trying to be the voice of reason among a sea of opinions that appeared to change every day.
“They were from the twelve states of the Midwest. Key figures. People with real influence.” She sighed, her voice echoing in the cavernous region. “This is going to affect everything. All the work we put in to try and make this happen. Now we are back at square one.”
He tossed the pad down.
“Forget that. We have bigger problems to deal with. Davenport is dead.”
“What?”
“The resort is burned to the ground. We need to move.”
“Move?”
“Yes. Rally the group together and speak to them. I’ll head over to Jacob’s Cave and let Grady know.”
She lifted a hand as he turned to leave. “Wait. We’re not moving.”
Gunnar angled his body at her. “If the PLA took out Davenport, you can be damn sure they did so after they extracted the information they needed. They knew he helped. Now maybe he didn’t say anything. Maybe he took a bullet like a champ. You know, one for the team and all but those odds are risky and I’m not betting on the outcome. So the sooner we get everyone ready to leave, th
e better.”
“And go where, Gunnar? Huh? We are running out of places to go. No, I listened to you before because Grady was here and because the raid was successful but we haven’t seen a PLA soldier up this way in over a month. We are off the beaten track.”
“So were the Ozark Caverns but you remember what that scout said.”
“Doesn’t mean they know we’re here.”
He frowned as he looked back over his shoulder at a couple of the militia who were leaning against the wall, listening in. “Do you really want to take that risk?” Gunnar asked. “There are children among us.”
“We have the cave system.”
“Yeah we do and what happens if the PLA decides to close off the entrances or smoke us out? What then? Huh? They might not follow us in but they don’t need to. No, I say we move now, and keep moving every few weeks.”
She narrowed her gaze and folded her arms. He’d seen that unmovable look many a time. “I will need to run it by Grady and the others.”
“Why? You’re in charge. Just say the word and the rest will follow.”
“That’s not how it works, Gunnar.”
“Seemed that way when you were denying Miles help.”
“That was different,” she said. “And you know it.”
He lifted a hand and waved her off. “Look, you do what you need to do but I’m not sticking around. That’s for damn sure.” He turned to walk out of the underground tomb.
“That’s it, just walk away like you did before and leave me to pick up the pieces.” He stopped and looked back at her then glanced at the other militia soldiers. “Can you give us some privacy?”
They strolled away and he waited until they were out of earshot before he addressed her. Arianna pretended she was busy looking at the notepad. He went over and took it out of her hands and tossed it on the hammock. “You want to talk about picking up pieces? How about the way I felt after I found you and Demar screwing?”
“Please. We were not screwing.”
“Oh no, so that back massage he was giving you wasn’t leading to something?”
“I told you we were just friends. I didn’t cheat on you.”
“Bullshit! I saw you kiss him, Arianna.”
“That was him not me.”
He threw a hand up in the air. “Oh that is just convenient, isn’t it? I mean since Demar is no longer alive to come to his own defense. You’re passing the buck to him.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you square in the eyes, Arianna.”
She bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You. This place. This role you’ve taken on. Have you come clean with these people? Told them the real reason I left?” He waited; she dipped her chin. “Of course you haven’t, that’s because you care more about saving face than telling the truth.”
“I think you forget, Gunnar, you chose to leave. I stayed.”
He snorted. “What, you think I was going to stay here? Hanging around after what I saw? C’mon! You can’t be that naïve.”
He waited for a response but he wasn’t going to get one. That was her way. Some bawled their eyes out, others slammed doors, she took a different approach and would go silent. “Look, if you think you’re a truth-teller. Go and tell those people what happened to Davenport and ask them if they want to stay. In the meantime, I’m leaving to speak with Grady.”
With that said he strolled off back into the labyrinth of tunnels. He planned on collecting his horse and hightailing it over to Jacob’s Cave, a thirty-minute ride. Arianna, however, wasn’t done with him. He should have known she wasn’t. If there was one thing she hated, it was letting anyone else get the last word.
“Gunnar!” Arianna sidled up beside him, out of breath and red-faced.
Without losing his cool, he stopped and glanced at her. “Yes?”
“You’re going to stay, aren’t you? I mean after speaking with Grady.”
If he wasn’t mistaken he actually caught some concern in her voice, but he wasn’t sure. “You do your thing, I’ll do mine,” he replied.
“So you’re taking Miles with you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll speak to him when he returns,” Gunnar said in a firm tone. She shifted her weight from one foot to the next and narrowed her gaze. He could feel her hot judgment washing over him.
“Gunnar, we need him.”
“Oh please, don’t give me that. You never wanted him here to begin with. So I don’t see why you would care now,” he said.
“Things have changed,” she replied.
“Like what? You were operating just fine before we came along. No, after I speak with Grady, I’m finding a remote place, and getting the hell out of here.”
Arianna frowned, he could tell she didn’t like the prospect of having to make decisions alone, especially after being proven wrong and having Grady turn on her. Well, he hadn’t turned on her so to speak but had shown his lack of regard for her being in charge.
“Gunnar, he’s needed here,” she replied.
“He is? Or I am?”
She offered back a confused expression. “Both of you are.”
“By the group or you?” Gunnar was curious. Perhaps it was because he wanted to know if anything between them had changed since his return or whether this was just a ploy to get what she wanted — control.
“You’ve lost me,” she said.
“Oh, darlin’, I lost you a long time ago,” he said sarcastically, shaking his head and turning to walk away. He was about to lose his cool, his mind returning to the past, that day, that night, that event between her and Demar. He’d managed to smother it with alcohol for the longest time but being back, seeing her, it was like tearing away a Band-Aid and finding the wound still hadn’t healed.
“I’m sorry,” she said stopping him in his tracks. That was the one thing she hadn’t said since that day. Excuses, oh, he’d heard those, many but an apology, nope. Gunnar turned and stared. She continued, “I’m sorry, okay. I…” her chin dipped as she shifted her weight again and looked off then back at him. “I made a mistake. There we go. I said it. Now would you consider staying?”
He chuckled. “Hey, you know what, I appreciate the effort you gave with that… half-hearted apology, I’m sure you’ve been practicing that one for some time but it’s a little too late.”
“It’s better than nothing at all.”
“Oh, I beg to differ,” he replied, allowing his pain to resurface and speak for him.
She moved in a little closer, uncomfortably close. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”
“Gunnar. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, so am I,” he replied before quickly turning away and hurrying off toward the mouth of the cave.
6
The clatter of a metal bucket awakened Miles. His head throbbed, and the world spun. He blinked hard through an explosion of pain as his senses registered his battered body. It took a moment for his vision to clear and discern that he was in an old hay barn with 14-by-4-foot stalls either side of him.
Something bit into his skin, strangling his wrists.
That’s when he realized he was bound with thick dry rope that was slung over a wide beam high up in the rafters. The tips of his toes dangled a foot above the concrete floor. His hands looked swollen. They were bright red, almost purple. Every nerve, ligament, and tendon in his back and arms was aching.
Where am I?
He craned his neck around at the sound of movement. “Who’s there?”
No answer.
Scrunching up his face he could feel dry blood caked on his forehead from where he’d fallen off the horse. A flood of memories came back. The ride back to the camp, the horse getting startled, a copperhead snake, and then tumbling.
Again Miles heard footsteps, closer now. He asked for them to identify themselves but got no reply. From beyond the barn, he could hear talking. He wondered if the PLA had nabbed him and were holdi
ng him here until they could decide what to do or if this was another assailant after the bounty. Over the past week, he’d heard from those in town that the mayor had offered a reward for his capture. There were no details given on what they would get in exchange but it couldn’t be money as that was useless.
I’ve got to get out of here, he thought. Miles looked up at the rope. His strength had all but gone, but with some effort, he figured he might be able to create some motion, and swing over to the stall closest to him. Hanging on a hook next to a collection of saddles and reins was his sheath. It was a long shot but if he could grab it with his feet, maybe he could…
Ah, what was he thinking? It was pointless. His restraints were too tight.
Suddenly, out the corner of his eye, a young boy with unruly brown hair came into view. He wore a raggedy old shirt, dungarees, and sandals. He was rail-thin with smudged cheeks. He looked nervous as he came around and looked up at him.
“Hey, kid, where am I?”
The boy looked toward the large double doors and then back at him. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
“Said who?”
“My stepfather.”
“Where is he?”
“Outside with my mother.”
“Listen, you think you can get my knife over there and cut me down?”
The kid shuffled back with fear. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. No. He wouldn’t let me.”
“Your stepfather?”
He nodded. Miles sighed, another spike of pain reminding him of his predicament. The guy had obviously taken advantage of the moment or perhaps he’d been responsible for the snake?
“Where am I?”
No response.
“Am I close to Camdenton?” Miles asked.
“West of there.”
He nodded and smiled at the kid. “My wrists hurt really bad.” He tried to appeal to the kid but he was clearly scared. He couldn’t have been much older than twelve. “What’s your name?”
The boy looked reluctant to answer.
Miles continued. “I’m…”
“The Hunter,” he cut him off. “I know who you are. Everyone does.” The boy reached into his back pocket and pulled out the American flag mask to show him.
