by Hunt, Jack
After seeing the destruction of Davenport’s resort, and the killing of militia leaders, he was aware that the PLA wasn’t taking the raid on the airport lightly. As much as he wanted to believe that they could make a difference, even he was starting to have his doubts. He drove the horse harder, forcing it up and down steep slopes, using nothing more than a compass to guide his way.
It didn’t take him long to return to the last known area where Miles would have been. Under a strong barrage of rain, he dismounted and checked one of the trail cams. When he saw that it hadn’t been reset, he went on to the next and noticed more of the same.
He hadn’t been here.
“Miles!” he yelled into the inky night.
Nothing but the howling wind replied.
At night it was hard to see anything in the forest, the chances of tracking him without daylight were slim to none. Desperate, Gunnar refused to give up and continued to search, looking for any sign of broken branches, his horse, or worse — his body. But he wasn’t to be found. There was nothing to see except the dark expanse of forest.
He wondered if he’d doubled back, or had gotten it in his head to attack the PLA in retaliation. No, he wouldn’t do that. It was too risky.
Gunnar drew the reins in and got back on the radio again. “Miles. Come in, Miles.”
Nothing but static came over the receiver. Then, as if by some miracle, a voice replied, older, female. “This is Callie. Is this Gunnar?”
“It is. Where’s Miles and what are you doing with his radio?”
“He’s with us. He’s hurt but alive.”
“Where are you?”
“Um,” she replied. Gunnar could hear her asking someone before she got back on the radio again. “We’re southeast of Aurora Springs. Close to County Road 52. In a wreckers’ yard.”
What the hell are you doing over there? he thought. That was a good thirty minutes from where he was. “Put Miles on the radio.”
There was a beat then he was relieved to hear his voice.
“Gunnar.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I’ll tell you when I see you. We’re bedding down for the night here as the weather is just too bad outside. Where are you?”
“Thirty minutes south. Looking for you. Just stay put. I’m on my way.”
Gunnar spurred the horse on, forcing it to gallop across a series of fields, and deep into the forest again.
Santiago crouched beside Owen, looking for a wound but there was none. He looked up at the rest of his group, their long, hooded trench coats, their faces hidden by hockey masks that looked like skulls. “A mistake, perhaps?”
“I don’t think so,” August replied from across the room as he bent down and lifted a blacked-out American flag mask. “He was here.” He walked back over clutching the rag.
“You despise him, don’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe. I never knew my father so I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “Let’s go.”
“Shouldn’t we search the forest?”
Santiago acted calm and collected. “And waste our time? He’ll come to us when the time is right. You must learn to be patient.” The group walked out leaving August standing there staring at the rag. He couldn’t help but think about his father and what he would do to Miles when he got hold of him. He thought the raid on the Ozark Caverns would bring an end to it but when they came up empty, the mayor wouldn’t give the go-ahead to pursue the group through the cave.
As August walked out of the barn, his eyes scanned the terrain, wondering if Miles was watching.
Miles laid back on a torn cream-colored sofa inside a rusted-out RV. He was still in pain and soaked to the bone from the downpour. They’d decided to bed down for the night at an abandoned wreckers’ yard because the journey on foot had taken its toll. His muscles were aching terribly.
It was a hellish steel boneyard full of several hundred vehicles, and a one-story building that was no longer in operation. They were several miles away from the old barn and after having made contact with Gunnar, Miles was beginning to relax.
“So he’s a friend of yours?” Callie asked.
“Yeah. We’ll stay here until he arrives.”
Callie and Tommy took a seat around a table a few feet away. With the only light from a small flashlight, he could barely make out their faces in the dark. He figured it was best to wait inside one of the crapped-out old vehicles rather than linger inside the business. As society had gone to hell, and most in small hamlets had been forced to move into town, there was no way of telling if the owner was still here, hiding out from the PLA. A surprise visit from strangers in the dead of night was liable to get them shot.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Callie said, apologizing for the fourth time since they’d left as if it was her fault. It wasn’t.
“It’s fine.”
“No it’s not. You’ve helped more than most in this region. I tried to tell Owen but he wouldn’t listen. After he lost Malcolm, he just spiraled down. He drank more, lashed out at us, and…” She sighed. “If you hadn’t killed him, I probably would have,” she said, clamping a hand against Tommy’s head and pressing it against her shoulder.
“How long were you with him?”
“Too long. I mean, he never used to be that way — I mean before the war, before the occupation. They came and took all the livestock, the horses, the cows, pigs, everything we had. Even that didn’t break him.” She paused. “He, well, he was ready to move into town just before Malcolm died. His death destroyed him. He wasn’t the same after that.”
“He was an asshole before that,” Tommy said.
“Tommy.”
“C’mon. He always was, you just couldn’t see it.”
Miles didn’t say anything. Relationships were complex, people even more so.
“I…” She looked as if she needed to explain herself. Victims of abuse were very much like that. Living so long under the thumb of their abuser, they’d begun to think that everything was their fault.
“Was Malcolm your son?” Miles asked.
“No, he was Owen’s. Tommy here is mine.” She ran a loving hand through his mousy brown hair and offered a weak smile.
“Do you have family, Miles?”
“I did. They’re both gone.”
“Sorry to hear that.” She nodded. “Do you mind me asking why? Why you decided to help?”
“Because it’s what my father would have wanted.” He paused. “It’s what I wanted.”
“And now?” she asked as if noticing something in his reply that made her question his answer.
“And now what?”
“After all that’s happened, do you still feel the same way?”
He considered the question. Time had passed and the fuel that had originally driven him wasn’t as strong as before. It was like a dying fire. He could stoke the embers but with the attacks on his life, and what Owen had said, he had to wonder if he hadn’t caused more suffering.
“I’m not sure.”
She nodded.
“Well, for what it’s worth, Malcolm looked up to you, Tommy still does. Isn’t that right?” she asked, ruffling his hair. He grinned and nodded.
It was a two-edged sword. On one hand, there would be those who saw what he’d done for what it was — someone trying to help — for others, like Owen, it would cause a negative reaction because the outcome wasn’t the same.
Miles readjusted his position because of the spikes of pain in his back. His wrists hurt even more. The skin was torn by the rope, leaving red burn marks. “Not much to look up to.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Our country needs people like you. Tommy needs someone like you.”
Miles lifted his eyes. “Why?”
“It gives him hope and there hasn’t been much of that around here in some time. There’s not enough people like you out there, doing what you’ve done. Helping people like us.” She breathed in deeply, looking at he
r son. “His biological father wasn’t exactly an example, and Owen…” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Well, let’s just say, Tommy and his generation need someone who can show them what it means to sacrifice themselves for others. It’s an example that he can aspire to. I know that’s why Malcolm went out that night. And you can be damn sure he died doing something that mattered to him, to me, and Tommy.”
Tommy’s eyes were beginning to close from exhaustion. Callie removed his jacket and rolled it and set it under his head. She crossed to the kitchen area and leaned against the counter. “One day he will tell others about the day he met you. You can be sure of that. That’s why he was in the barn, risking a swat by Owen. He wanted to see you.”
Miles looked at the boy. He hadn’t given much thought to how others perceived him. He certainly never set out to inspire anyone. His assault on the PLA was as much a death wish as it was vengeance.
“You’ve given him hope that America will rise. He needs the Hunter. I know others do too.”
As he pondered her words, the clopping of horse’s hooves could be heard in the distance. Miles pulled back the small drapes that covered the window and peered out. It took a minute or two before the rider’s face could be seen in the glow of the moonlight but when it was visible he replied, “Looks like our ride is here.”
8
Almost four days later, Miles was starting to feel whole again. Upon his return to the outpost, he’d laid in a hammock as militia medics tended to his wounds. While his muscles were strained, and he had rope burns on his wrists, and gashes on his back, they would all heal in time. Fortunately, nothing was broken.
In that short span, the two camps had rejoined, making the settlement larger than before. Although they couldn’t be certain that an attack was imminent, no one was taking any chances. They’d beefed up perimeter security in the forest and guards were posted every half a mile throughout the cave system. Scouts in ghillie suits were sent further afield to watch the main roads and radio back if they saw troops heading in their direction. The additional support proved to be an asset in his recovery. Not thinking about protecting others, he’d spent the majority of his days sleeping, or talking with Scarlett.
Once he was back on his feet, Arianna was quick to address the most pressing situation — the Springfield Ambush. That was the other name given to the deadly attack on key militia leaders from the twelve states of the Midwest. Little was known about who was responsible or even how they knew the leaders would be gathered, but a meeting had been arranged with the Watchmen, a militia group on the outskirts of a town called Irondale. They were to meet in the dead of night on Hughes Mountain, a popular hiking spot located in the St. Francois Mountains.
With a lack of trust still a major factor, it hadn’t been easy for Gunnar to accept the arrangement.
According to Arianna, the Watchmen were looking for assistance, beyond that she couldn’t explain what was required. “They want our help, and we could use theirs,” she’d said.
Support in exchange for support.
The mistake, if it could be called that, had been telling Arianna what they were trying to achieve with each attack in Camden County.
Ultimately Gunnar wanted to build an army to fight back.
While he believed the way forward was to inspire the American people to join them, Arianna felt that was the slowest method of doing it. “No, we need numbers, real numbers, people who are skilled and capable of fighting,” she’d said, alluding to the fact that most if not all the people they had brought in were just ordinary folk.
“So train them,” Gunnar had replied.
“It will take too long. We need to gather the support of the militia,” Arianna had said. “It’s the only way forward.”
There was a lot of back and forth, arguments, finger-pointing but when the dust settled they had agreed to at least go and hear what the Watchmen had to say.
Only a few went that evening on a journey that would take them the better part of three hours by truck. There were ten of them in total. Miles sat near the rear beside Scarlett. Gunnar was down from her, and across from Miles was Arianna. To her right, Lucius. All of them were geared up in military garb. Miles had tried to persuade Arianna not to let Lucius go with them but she wouldn’t listen. Gunnar figured her decision to have him tag along had less to do with Lucius and more to do with the power struggle she was in, trying to hold on to the role of leader. Gunnar had said that she saw Miles as a threat.
As he stared out at the dark sky, a hard wind battered the outside. They bounced in their seats, the road beneath uneven with several potholes. The driver was taking the longer route, a series of back roads to avoid checkpoints. Headlights were off and he was wearing night-vision goggles to see the road.
Miles stared across at Arianna.
Since his arrival at the camp, she hadn’t spoken much to him. It seemed as if she was intimidated by his presence. She barely looked him in the eye. He wasn’t sure if that was because of his friendship with Gunnar, and wondering what he’d confided in him about her past, or if it was just because she didn’t approve of his method of battling the PLA.
“Grady said you knew one of the twelve that were killed, that right?”
“Duke Banning,” she replied without looking at him, her eyes fixed on the road behind them. “A good friend of mine.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Gunnar was listening in.
“So you knew Demar?”
She glanced at him and then darted a glare to Gunnar a few seats down. She looked uncomfortable so he clarified. “I mean, I don’t remember seeing you at militia meetings. My father headed up the original group.”
“Grant. I remember. No. I got involved when the war broke out. Couldn’t stand by and do nothing but I wasn’t prepared to head to the front lines and leave my daughter behind.”
“Zhang?”
Her brow creased. “You know her?”
“We’ve tangoed,” he said with a grin. “So what’s it been like living in the wild?”
She could tell he was trying his best to make conversation. A smile flickered.
“Well, it’s not five-star accommodation that’s for sure.”
He chuckled.
“You’re telling me,” Lucius chimed in, shuffling in his seat and rolling his shoulders. “What I would do for a Big Mac.”
“Those days are long gone, my friend,” Gunnar muttered.
There was a pause.
“So how did you two run into each other?” Lucius asked Gunnar, nudging his head toward Miles. They’d said very little about their interaction or how they came to be, only that they were working toward the same goal — the PLA’s demise.
“Long story.”
“Long ride,” he replied.
Miles chimed in, getting Gunnar out of the awkward exchange. “Why don’t you tell us about you? You said you were from out-of-state. Where?”
Lucius snorted and looked down at his feet before continuing his line of questioning. Ignorance was another tool in his chest.
“Why, you interested in moving everyone?” he shot back.
“Answer the question.”
“Why are you interested?”
“I like to know who I’m running with,” Miles replied.
“Oh don’t worry, hero, I won’t overshadow you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Miles gave him a taste of his own medicine and ignored his bait-and-switch approach of trying to reel him into an argument.
“Kansas? South Dakota, Michigan? Come on, where?”
“If I said Michigan, would you believe me?”
“Probably not.”
“Man, do you ever just lay off the gas?” Miles asked.
“Rarely, though I do make exceptions for the ladies,” he replied, glancing at Scarlett who rolled her eyes.
“All right, you two,” Arianna said.
Lucius wasn’t finished, he turned his attention to Gunnar. “You know, I heard a lot of
rumors about you when you did those survival shows. Is it true your son died?”
Oh, he’d hit a sore spot now. Miles gave a sideways glance, expecting Gunnar to ball up a fist or clench his jaw but instead, he replied calmly, “That’s correct.” Arianna looked over and the two of them locked eyes.
“I was a big fan. Always tuned in,” Lucius said.
“I bet you did,” Miles muttered.
Lucius caught it. “That wasn’t the only rumor I heard.”
“Lucius. Enough,” Arianna said. She was the only person he listened to. It had made Miles wonder what kind of agreement they had in place. Had she known him before? Was he planted among them by the PLA? No matter how he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was up to no good.
Turning her attention to the rest of them as they got closer to Hughes Mountain Natural Area, Arianna became serious. “A few things you should know about the Watchmen before we meet them. It’s important. They are super religious. They consider themselves warriors for God. Whatever beliefs you hold about the Almighty, step it up a few notches, toss in a drop of delusion and you might come close to these guys. Now I’m a God-fearing woman but even I draw the line at crazy. So whatever you do, mind your P’s and Q’s and don’t use the Lord’s name in vain.”
“What happens if you do?” Lucius asked, looking amused.
“You don’t want to know. Just let me do the talking.”
“Who we meeting?” Miles asked.
“His name is Arlo Lewis. His group has always been a little skittish around other militia. Just follow my lead. They can be a little unpredictable.”
Ten minutes later the truck veered off Highway M onto a long gravel driveway that led up to a parking lot on the south side. It was empty, nothing but fields and trees for miles. “I hope you’ve got your walking boots on as this is almost a 2-mile climb to the top,” Arianna said. The truck stopped and she hopped out.
