Rescue: Book 3 in the After the Fall series

by David Nees

  As the sun began to set, the men stopped to eat from their meager rations. Their hurried departure from the farmhouse caused them to leave behind some of the food Emilia had left for them.

  They ate sparingly and took some sips of water. The day had been hot. They were tired and sweaty. The night sounds had not yet started up. Only a few crickets had begun their mating calls.

  “Listen,” Billy said.

  Everyone looked at him. The quiet conversation Jason had been having with Rodney stopped.

  Then they heard it. Dogs barking and baying, faintly in the distance.

  “They got dogs,” Billy said.

  “And sounds like they got our scent,” Clayton said.

  When the dogs arrived, McKenzie had most of his men across the river. They had confirmed the shooters’ place on the ridge and that the men had left. The dogs’ handlers were old hands in the woods. They guided their canines to the area at the top of the ridge and the dogs quickly picked up the scent. Much barking and baying ensued as the dogs strained to be on the chase. For them it was a fun game in the woods. For the men, on both sides, it was a matter of life and death.

  The General split his men into two teams. Ten men went with the dogs and their handlers. They would try to link up with the four men who left earlier and run down the fugitives. The rest, about thirty men, would head down I40 and set up posts near where he guessed the escapees would try to cross. If the trackers didn’t catch them, he hoped this group would intercept them.

  With the men assembled, the group set off through the woods at a fast trot with the dogs, straining at their leashes, leading the way. They knew the men they were chasing had a good head start, but they were moving fast and, with lights, could keep going through the night.

  Jason looked at Clayton. “Are we going to be able to stay ahead of them?”

  “Not sure. What I’m sure about is we got to keep going through the night. They won’t be stopping. Those dogs can probably run through the night.”

  “We better get at it. You and Billy use the night vision goggles. We’ll follow behind you.”

  The group set out. As darkness came, Billy and Clayton put on the goggles. Even with the goggles the pace was slower. Billy complained it was hard to see details. They got snagged more often in the thickets. The ridges, now going in all directions like a crazy quilt pattern, confused them and slowed progress.

  “Walking in the water help throw the dogs off?” Rodney asked.

  “I seen dogs follow a scent in the water,” Clayton said. “I think it’s an old wives’ tale. Besides it would just slow us down to wade around in a creek and then get out on the other side. Maybe if we was at a large river, we could just swim downstream far enough to throw ‘em off, but not these small creeks we crossing.”

  The group stumbled along, egged on by the distant barking which came and went.

  “If we don’t hear them, it just means they on our trail,” Clayton said.

  When the dogs were solidly on the trail, they quieted down and just pursued. When they lost it for a moment, they cast around rapidly and let out furious barks to announce they had picked it up again.

  The group pushed on through the night, stumbling, getting caught in thickets, freeing one another and then stumbling along again. The climbs were sometimes steep with them clawing their way on all fours to the top.

  At one ridge they stopped to drink some water. The moon had come up which now made it easier for Jason and Rodney.

  “Can’t wait for the sun to come up,” Billy said. “These goggles are a pain.”

  “Try it without them now that the moon’s up,” Jason said, “but I bet you’ll see better with them on. I know Rodney and me are still stumbling along, even with the moonlight.”

  The night slowly gave way to the gray of dawn. Clayton and Billy took off their goggles.

  “We can speed up,” Clayton said, “but the others will too.”

  The men set off jogging. They were bone weary, bruised, wet and tired. But they forced themselves into a broken trot through the forest, dodging trees, rocks, and thickets; going around the large boulders that had fallen from the ridges long ago. They scrambled up the slopes and slid down the other sides. One wouldn’t need a dog to track them. They had disturbed the ground so much in their passing they left a trail easy to see. The men following the dogs could move faster, though.

  There was no talking now, just heavy breathing and constant motion. When someone tripped and fell, the closest person stopped to give him a hand up. Without a word they would then set out to catch up with the others who had kept moving.

  At the top of one especially steep ridge, they stopped. The other side looked too dangerous to try to slide down. It went from very steep to vertical with house-sized boulders strewn at the bottom of the slope.

  Billy was leaning over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Clayton had slumped to the ground with his back against a large rock. Rodney and Jason leaned against two trees.

  “We may need to start thinking about a place to make a stand,” Rodney said.

  “Don’t want them to just catch us running. If they gonna catch us, better it’s a spot we can defend,” Clayton said.

  “Problem is we don’t know how many are behind us,” Jason replied.

  “Even with two to one odds, we can probably take them,” Rodney said. He turned to Clayton, “Those dogs attack us when they catch up?”

  “Depends on how they was trained. Bloodhounds are pretty gentle. They just the best at tracking. If they’re using German Shepherds, they could be trained to attack when they catch you.”

  “Hate to shoot a dog,” Jason said. “If we have to make a stand, we’ll pick a ridge, like this. They’ll be struggling up it and we’ll be spread out on the top and pick them off. If the dogs don’t attack, we can leave them alone.” He lurched away from the tree. “But I’m not ready to take a stand. Let’s figure a way off this ridge.”

  They hiked along the ridge while examining the slope. Finally, Jason pointed down.

  “It isn’t getting any better. I say we go down here. It’s steep but not a cliff. We can slide down from tree to tree so it’s not a free-fall. Remember, they have to navigate this as well.”

  The men nodded and, one by one, started down the slope.

  Chapter 29

  ___________________________________

  I t was near summer and the sun was strong. There was little breeze in the forest to alleviate the growing heat. Sweat poured down Jason’s face, stinging his eyes. His shirt was soaking wet and his pack was chaffing his shoulders. They could hear the dogs occasionally when they lost and then rediscovered their scent.

  “Dog’s gettin’ closer,” Clayton said with labored breath.

  They had just descended down a steep slope into a flat area that was partially cleared. There was a dirt road running along the floor of the valley, following a slow-moving stream about fifty feet wide. It was unlike the other creeks they had crossed which were narrow, rocky, and fast moving with sharply cut banks.

  “Looks like someone grew hay in this field,” Clayton said.

  “Might be a cabin on this road, in one direction or the other,” Billy said.

  “We don’t want to go there,” Jason said. “It’ll only bring them trouble.”

  Across the creek the ridge was steep. The men waded through the stream. Their feet struggled in the soft bottom mud. The ridge was steep enough to force them to crawl up on hands and knees. They stopped for breath along the way, leaning against the smaller trees that clung to the slope, and then pushed forward through the rocks and dirt.

  At the top they all stood there panting. Looking down, Jason could see the cleared floor of the valley and the stream winding through it.

  “This looks like a good spot to defend,” he said.

  Rodney nodded in agreement. “They’ll be exposed in the field and wading across the stream will be slow with that muddy bottom. We can pick them off easil
y.”

  “Any that make it across will have to come up this slope right in our line of fire,” Clayton said.

  “So, no warning? We just take them out?” Billy asked.

  Jason turned to him. “You want to negotiate with them?”

  “No, but I’m thinking, we’re just going to shoot them without giving them a chance to turn back? Seems wrong somehow.”

  “Don’t seem wrong to me,” Clayton said. “They coming after us. We ain’t coming after them. Seems like they made a choice, now they pay for it.”

  “Billy, what do you think they’ll do if they capture us?”

  Billy’s face screwed up with consternation. Jason could see his concern and confusion.

  “I guess it wouldn’t be good for us. They’d surely put us in prison, maybe even kill us, since we shot some men back at the Nutter’s.”

  “I don’t want you to have any reservations. You’ve shot men before, defending your home, defending Lori Sue…”

  At the sound of her name, Billy’s face fell into sadness.

  “I’m sorry to bring her up, but I doubt these men are much different from the ones we defeated in Hillsboro. They may not be the leaders or organizers, but they are part of the muscle that keeps those men in power. We have to protect ourselves. By taking them out we do that. Plus, we send a message to not mess with Hillsboro.”

  “I guess you’re right. I just had hoped that I was on a different path, when I left with Rodney. Looks like we’re still stuck in the same mess as before.”

  Jason didn’t respond. Billy had a point, but there was nothing he could do about it. The situation was dictated by outside forces. He had to respond in the best way he knew to defend what they were all struggling to achieve, some sense of normalcy and peace so they could rebuild their lives.

  “We don’t shoot the dogs, agreed?” Jason asked the group.

  Everyone nodded.

  “If they got German Shepherds, how do we know they won’t attack?” Billy asked.

  “If their handlers turn them loose, watch them when they come up the slope, ,” Clayton responded. “They come with ears pinned back, teeth bared, they’re gonna attack.” He paused. “Got to take them out then.”

  Jason let that be the last word.

  “Let’s spread out. Everyone get behind some cover. Make sure you got a clear line of fire to the field. Stay in sight of each other in case we have to move or retreat. We’ll wait until they’re all in the field before we fire. We want them all out in the open. Don’t shoot the dogs’ handlers.”

  The men spread apart, each picking a spot to lie down. Then they waited. How long it would take, no one knew, but the pursuers would come, and they would be ready for them.

  There was a burst of barking and baying, much closer this time. The four men waiting all glanced at each other.

  “One of the dogs is a blood hound from the sound of him,” Clayton said.

  The men focused intently on the clearing. There was the sound of branches snapping along with shouts from the men. The pursuers were coming down from the opposite ridge.

  “Remember, wait until they’re in the field. Hold your fire until I shoot, then let loose,” Jason whispered.

  Everyone sighted their rifles. Except for Jason, they were all shooting M16s with iron sights.

  “Set your fire selector for three-round bursts,” Rodney said. “You’ll be more effective that way until you zero in on the distance.”

  The distance, not more than one hundred yards, made the shots easy for Jason with his M110. He expected to carry the load in this firefight.

  The sun beat down. The crashing in the woods beyond the field grew louder and the dogs burst into the field, dragging their handlers with them. They rushed to the water’s edge and would have jumped in, if not held back. As Clayton had guessed, one was a bloodhound; the other was a Shepherd. The handlers stopped and waited. A moment later the rest of the men emerged. Jason counted ten of them.

  They were all armed with what looked like M16s. They had on uniform shirts with various work pants, jeans, and boots. To Jason’s eye, the men looked beat; they were all out of breath and covered with sweat and forest debris from their slide down the slope.

  The pursuers walked up to the men holding the dogs. The man in charge started talking with the handlers, pointing across the stream. The dogs barked and bayed, straining at their leashes, still eager to be on the hunt. Jason placed his sights on the guy who looked to be the leader of the group.

  His shot hit him in the head. The man collapsed where he was standing with the back of his head blown open. The others on the ridge opened fire. A flurry of bullets rained down on the field, with many missing their mark.

  After Jason’s first shot, two of the militia dove to their right seeking the cover of some larger rocks by the stream’s edge. The handlers pulled their dogs to them and dropped into the tall brush to their left, covering their dogs as they lay on the ground. The rest of the militia turned and bolted for the woods.

  Rodney’s shots hit one of the men before he took two steps. Jason moved to the fleeing figures and hit one of them in the center of his back. The other shooters from the ridge hit two more of the men. The remaining three men made it to the cover of the trees.

  The men in the woods began to return fire, their shots were beginning to close in on the ridge where Jason and the others lay. He could hear their deadly whistle as they flew overhead and could see the dirt and rocks fly where they hit the ground.

  “Keep the two behind the rocks pinned down,” Jason yelled. I’ll try to pick off the ones in the woods. Don’t just shoot blindly into the trees.”

  The three men began sending a devastating amount of fire down to the rocks, pinning the shooters down. Their rounds hit the boulders and the ground, splitting off shards of stone and throwing up chunks of soil.

  Jason concentrated on the woods through his scope, looking for muzzle flashes. With each flash he noted the shooter’s location. He had a cleaner shot at one of the men. There were no large branches to deflect his round. He watched, ignoring the other shots coming out from the trees. Then he saw the barrel of a rifle swing out from behind the tree trunk. Jason squeezed off a round, aiming just above the barrel. The shooter’s rifle flew up and fell to the ground.

  At that moment someone from the rocks shouted out the word “surrender”. Jason and the others saw a pair of hands waving in the air from behind the boulders.

  Rodney looked over at Jason who nodded.

  Rodney shouted down to the men, “Throw out your rifles and stand up with your hands in the air and you won’t be shot.”

  “Promise you won’t shoot?” the man yelled back.

  “Do what we say and you won’t get shot,” Rodney replied.

  “Don’t shoot us or the dogs,” one of the handlers shouted. “We ain’t armed.”

  “Do the same thing. Stand up and put your hands in the air,” Rodney shouted.

  As the men began to stand, Rodney shouted to the two left in the woods, “Come out with your hands up and you won’t get shot. Don’t and we’ll kill you before you can get back up that slope.”

  The field was still. The two militia men stood nervously with their hands in the air. The handlers were standing with their dogs held close. Neither dog was barking or baying. They sensed it was best to keep still.

  “You hear me in the woods?” Rodney shouted again. “Come out now. If you don’t then your friends might die and we’ll shoot you down and leave you to the coyotes and bears.”

  The men in the field now called out to the two to come out.

  “They don’t show themselves,” Jason said, “Clayton, you and Billy split up and go around the field. Finish them off in the woods.”

  Before Clayton and Billy could head down, the two men appeared at the forest’s edge with their hands in the air.

  “Come forward about half way,” Rodney shouted. He turned to Billy. “You stay up here while we go down to secure the prisoner
s. Anyone makes a wrong move, shoot him.”

  Billy nodded. He had a grave look on his face.

  Jason, Rodney and Clayton scrambled down the hillside and waded through the water. The dogs, smelling them and knowing they had found what they were chasing, started jumping and straining at their leashes.

  “Hold them dogs, less you want ‘em shot,” Clayton said.

  “We’ll hold ‘em,” one of the men said. “They ain’t dangerous. It’s just a big game to them.”

  “Game or not, I don’t want them in my way,” Clayton responded.

  Jason, Rodney, and Clayton patted down the two at the creek. They made them lie down in the field with their hands behind their necks. Clayton guarded them.

  Rodney and Jason went over to the two who came from the woods and repeated their search for weapons. When they were lying down, Jason went to the men who were shot. Of the six men shot, four were dead. One of the men still alive had been shot in the chest. Jason could hear the sucking sound as air flooded the lungs. He found a wallet on the man and used it to cover the wound. He could only tie it down, which made for an imperfect seal but it was the best he could do. The man was already losing consciousness. Without a hospital, the man would probably die within an hour.

  The second man had a shattered left shoulder and arm. Two bullets had hit him. Jason cut up the man’s shirt and tied it over his wound to stop the bleeding. His lungs were not punctured, but his shoulder was badly damaged. He was in a lot of pain, but in no immediate danger of dying.

  After bandaging the man as best he could and checking him for weapons, Jason came back to the four uninjured men. Using belts he had removed from the dead men, he secured the captives. When that was done, he waved Billy down from the ridge.

  Jason assembled the four prisoners. He had them sit in the field, far enough apart so they couldn’t touch one another with their wrists secured behind their backs.