by Boyd Craven
A man with a rifle across his sweat-stained back was the first one I focused on. I vaguely recognized him and realized he was one of Lance’s boys. The bandage around his wrist… What was his name again? I fired. He fell as if poleaxed, his bucket dropping. I worked the bolt, swinging the gun to the right again, looking for the other ammonal charge, but the area where the bikes had been was all fire and carnage. I swung the rifle back. Several figures were running away from the man I’d shot, probably realizing that this was no accidental fall. I focused on somebody shouting at them, a pistol in his hand, and started taking in slack from the trigger.
“Right where I thought you’d be,” a voice said from behind me.
I looked over my injured shoulder to see a rifle butt half a heartbeat before it hit me in the face. Pain exploded from my temple, and a heavy weight fell on top of me.
13
Sore. Head hurt.
I rolled over and couldn’t help puking. Somebody was washing the side of my face. The girl I’d met at the party? How humiliating. That was it, I was never drinking Jim Beam again. I was sticking to Grandpa’s shine, where we stripped out more of the bad stuff than commercial distilleries—
I tried to push myself out of my puke, and my left shoulder wouldn’t hold my weight. In fact, it screamed in pain. I opened my eyes and winced at the brightness. Daytime. I wasn’t at a frat party like I’d first thought, I was lying in a dried puddle of blood and puke. I heaved again, moving my head so I wouldn’t spray it across myself. I saw the dead man to my right and smelled smoke. Something large and furry moved into my sight and licked the side of my face, then chuffed.
“Raider?” I croaked.
He sat down, and I could see most of his body before collapsing on my right. Something poked me in the side and I moved, finding my pistol underneath me. Had I drawn it? Fired? I couldn’t remember. Little gremlins were running jackhammers behind my eyeballs. I could smell something resembling a trailer or house fire, a forest fire and charred meat. I grabbed my pistol and dropped the magazine one handed. One cartridge missing. I sat up slowly, Raider’s tail making a swish, swish sound as he wagged it. His hind end started to wiggle, and I knew a happy bark was coming next, so I was quiet, but firm.
“Shhhhh, I don’t know how long I was out. There’s probably people still around here.”
Raider got down on his belly and looked at me, his head cocked to the side. I was desperately thirsty, so I pulled my pack to me with my good arm. I wanted water, but something told me I might need a little more pain management. I uncapped the container with Grandma’s special lemonade and downed half of it in one long swallow. I capped it, feeling the alcohol and lemonade hit my insides. Fire bloomed in my stomach, and my body wanted more. I knew with the blood loss I needed water more, so I sipped at it slowly and looked at my surroundings, trying not to puke. My head felt like a rung bell.
I was roughly in the same spot I had shot from. The floor of the forested area had been trampled flat. The dead man was wearing what looked like night vision goggles, but I wasn’t an expert in that. I pulled them off, finding the power button and pressing it. That was how I’d been found and probably how they’d been able to get a shot at me. With those off, the man I was looking at seemed rather clean cut compared to the others I’d been looking at through the scope last night.
He had a tuft of white blond hair, brush cut close, and a trimmed mustache. He was wearing black BDUs which had a scorch mark and a rather large hole in the heart area… and had a matching backpack that had either been dropped or come loose. I was guessing, but after butt stroking me, the man had jumped on me, trying to take me alive. Somewhere in the craziness, I must have pulled my pistol and shot him. I’d woken up to Raider cleaning my face during a dream… Right?
“You’re a good boy, come here,” I told my dog, wincing as I shifted my weight.
Raider came and sat next to me as I started going through the man’s pack. I found two magazines for what I had figured was an AR or M4. One magazine had green tipped ammunition, and the other looked like plain ball ammo. I set those aside and kept digging. The man had his pack set up like I did, with everything he’d need for a day or two in the field. I found two extra sets of batteries and a charger for the NVGs if I had to guess, and put those in my pack, not wanting to take the time to bother with them further. They were electronics, and he carried them. They somehow worked, despite the solar storm that had knocked out everything else. I added those to the pile with the NVGs and magazines and kept digging. Nothing else in the pack caught my interest so I turned to the corpse. He had died almost immediately if I had to guess, because for somebody who had been shot in the chest, there was very little blood. His heart must have stopped right away.
Most of what he had on him were things you’d expect a guy to carry. Knife, keys for something. Wallet. His clothing was of no interest either. Somewhere though, he had a rifle. If nothing else, I wanted to take it with me. It would be one less gun to worry about at my back. I rubbed my face and winced. I felt like I’d been laying out in the sun for a few days. I got my pistol and made sure it was functional before holstering it. I saw my rifle and shuffled that way. I found the dead man’s rifle on the ground next to mine. Raider whined quietly, but I made a shushing sound.
I looked over the dead man’s gun. The receiver of the gun had a selector switch that made me do a double take. Somebody had made this piece custom, or it wasn’t a regular stock receiver. It had three settings. No Pew. Pew. Pew, pew, pew. I grinned and set it on safe. It came with an oversized optic on it. It wasn’t a scope I saw but something that looked like a red dot. I turned the knob on top and saw a red, then green dot turn on. I turned it to the off position and pulled first my rifle and then the M4 over my shoulder with the provided slings. I crab walked back to the backpack and pile of loot, careful not to use my left hand.
Raider whined as I wobbled. I sat down hard, dizzy. The blow to the head was the last thing I remembered, but apparently, I’d surprised him and shot him while dazed. Why hadn’t anybody come looking for us? A wave of nausea hit, but I breathed heavily and waited until the spell passed. I needed to keep as much of the liquid in me as possible. My throat was dry, and my head hurt, but I could move. If I could move, I could get home. Why hadn’t they found me? I hurriedly packed the pile of loot from the dead man into my pack. I repositioned everything, almost screaming in pain as I got the pack’s strap over my left shoulder. Then I got both rifles back on and tried to stand.
Raider walked up, licking the side of my face. I was too tired and half dead to push him back. I made a rude sound and he stopped, getting back. I tried to get up again, but everything was too heavy. I went to my knees and right hand, grabbing a sapling. I tried to inch myself up. I was about to give up when Raider got under my chest and pushed. I let out a cry as I used my left arm, but I was able get upright. I looked to my left, north, and gaped.
Over half the field of grass had burned, and there were piles of twisted and charred metal where the trucks and bikes had been. Two or three of the trailers were nothing more than burned out husks on flat wheels. There was nobody in sight, but I could make out buzzards circling above and some on the ground. I almost puked again, but knew I wasn’t too far from home. If they had another sniper waiting on me I was dead, so with nothing left to lose, I got moving, lurching tree to tree, to have something to hold onto. I was so tired, I hurt so bad, and I felt so sick. My shoulder was throbbing in time with every step, every heartbeat, but it didn’t seem to be leaking.
“Raider, how’d you get out?” I asked him as he shadowed me.
Raider whined and, instead of walking ahead of me, he stayed behind or next to me. I shouldn’t have expected an answer, but I could tell he wasn’t happy to have found me in the condition I was in. He had probably escaped from Grandpa and Grandpa and come tracking me. A deep bark sounded about thirty feet from me, and the both of us stopped. Raider got in front of me and growled deeply, his hair standing st
raight up on the ridge of his back.
My heart started racing and my vision dimmed. The nausea and brain fog seemed to double as the figure of a bear materialized in front of us. Raider started barking loudly, making fast starts and lunges. My mouth was dry again, and I was about to puke when another two figures stepped out in front of me. The world was going dark at the edges, and I was trying to free the M4 I’d taken from the dead man. My legs went loose, and I fell to my knees. Raider turned to look at me and rushed back so he was immediately in front of me. I was retching, despite seeing a humanoid figure and two huge bear looking things.
“Nein, Pass Auf,” the figure said in a guttural language that sounded familiar.
My body went limp, and I realized that I was passing out. Raider was sitting now, his tail wagging, making a happy sound. Didn’t he know the bear was going to eat us? He should run, he should—
I groaned. My entire body hurt, and every bump jolted me. We were traveling through brush, and I was tied down to something. I could see saplings at the edges of my shoulder, with paracord holding my chest, arms, and legs to something I was strapped on. A travois?
“Raider,” I said softly.
A quiet woof sounded close by, and I turned to see my pooch walking beside me. The movement stopped, and I heard another guttural command and the travois seemed to settle down to the ground. I saw movement, then a green canteen was handed to me. I was scared, disoriented, and I was thirsty. I swallowed the liquid gold greedily, noting it was not Grandma’s doctored lemonade, but still something sweet. I drank until it felt like an ice spike formed between my eyes, and I winced. Liquid rolled down my neck for a moment, and the canteen was withdrawn.
“Don’t worry, Westley, we’ve got you. Raider found you for us,” Jessica said, coming into my vision.
I was hallucinating. Jessica was in front of me, but she was in camo again. Her face was smudged, and it looked like half of her hair was singed. She had what looked like blisters on one hand, but she was smiling. If this was a hallucination, I could at least enjoy it. I smiled back.
“Take me to your leader,” I said, my head rolling to look down at my boots.
Two packs were lashed there, mine and another one that matched her camo.
“You’re looking at her,” Jess said with a grin. “I really thought we’d lost you.”
“Grandpa and Grandma?” I asked, coughing.
“They’re fine. Worried sick. I radioed them as soon as Diesel and Yager tracked Raider to you. You passed out. Raider was going full on aggro on us until he realized it was me. Good thing he likes me, huh?”
“That makes two of us.” I grinned stupidly at her.
I wasn’t making sense. Something was wrong, but I hurt too much to know. I was burning up, but the nausea seemed gone for a second. A warmth was running through me. Wasn’t dying supposed to feel cold?
“You goof,” she said and brushed her hand against my cheek, while using her other hand to wipe something out of her eye.
“How long…?”
“Three days after the explosions.”
“I’ve been out for three days?” I asked her, surprised.
“Listen, I have some guys about to be here to help carry you out. Save your energy, I don’t know how you survived those fires, but you’re horribly dehydrated, probably concussed and you lost a lot of blood. I’m not a medical, expert, but…”
Her words trailed off, but I was tired again. She slapped my face a couple times gently, making Raider give out a warning growl.
“I’m just waking him up enough to give him more electrolytes,” she explained to him as the canteen was put back to my mouth.
I drank greedily. Three days? How had I survived that? Three days without water, and I should have been dead. Had I come to at some point and gotten into my pack and not remembered it? Apparently, I’d killed the man who’d brained me and didn’t remember it. My stomach started to cramp a bit just as the canteen was taken back.
“How is that?” Jessica asked.
“Too much, not enough,” I said.
“You need surgery and medication. When we’re out of here, I’m going to have your grandparents meet us by the road, but then you’re coming with me.”
“Where?” I asked her.
“Our facility,” she said quietly, going still.
Raider’s tail had been wagging but stopped, and he went rigid and looked hard at something behind me. Jess turned to look as both Yager and Diesel started growling as well.
“Marco,” a voice called.
“Polo loco,” Jess said, surprising me.
“You found him,” a deep voice said, and heavy footsteps approached us.
“He’s in bad shape. We have to get him into surgery; he’s been shot and out here for a few days.”
“Septic?” The voice was deep, like two boulders rumbling together.
“No, but I think he’s got an infection and a concussion,” Jess said to somebody behind me.
Raider stood next to me, though he was sitting, tense. The other dogs had quit growling also. He was somebody she knew, but oddly, he spoke very little. A concussion made sense; I was punch drunk and wobbly on my feet, when I was standing that was. As for the shot… my shoulder hurt, throbbed, with a heat of a thousand suns. My entire body had ached when I first came to. The pain was bad now, but not as bad as it had been.
“Morphine?” a humongous man asked, stepping into my vision on the other side of Jess.
“Yeah, gave him a small dose so I could get him lashed up. You want to take an end?”
“No.”
I was going to open my mouth to object, but a large knife appeared in his hand. Raider just watched. My head went back and forth between him, Jess, and the large man. The knife flicked and something underneath of me gave loose. A big hand went behind my back as he sheathed the knife, and both Jess and him worked on the bindings until she had her arms full of cordage. She started winding them up as he leaned down.
“This might hurt. Don’t scream.”
“Just listen to him,” Jess told me, “and for God’s sake, don’t move.”
I couldn’t say anything. I was too shocked to feel myself lifted like I was a baby. Raider let out a quiet bark and ran around in a circle, his tail wagging. In front of me I could hear the other dogs also making low noises. The pain suddenly flared, and I was about to call out in pain—
A warm washcloth was wiping me down. My eyes felt crusted shut, but when I tried to raise an arm to wipe them, I found I wasn’t strong enough.
“You’re awake?” Grandma asked, and I knew it was her. I’d recognize her voice anywhere.
“Grandma. How are you and Grandpa doing?” I asked.
She let out a soft chuckle and the washcloth wiped at the edge of my face.
“My eyes are gooed shut,” I told her.
“Ok dear, just relax,” she said, and I felt her hands gently working the washcloth over me.
First one eye, then the other opened under her care. I was in a white canvas tent by the look of things. I was laid out on what felt like a cot. I looked at my left shoulder and saw it had been gently bandaged, but my arm was in a sling and belted to my waist. I let out a deep breath. I felt about a thousand times better than I had the last time I’d passed out. A pain in my right elbow had me look that way, and I saw an IV taped in place, a bag of saline hanging from a stainless-steel hook from the framing of the tent.
“Where… Grandpa? Jess? Raider?”
It all came out in a rush.
“Everyone is fine; it was you we were worried about,” she said. “Your lazy bones have been sleeping for a few days now. I was hoping you’d wake up…” her words trailed off, and she wiped her eyes.
“What do you mean?” I asked her, “I mean, wait, how long? What…?”
“You were shot almost a week ago. They removed the bullet and got your inside stitched up good but left the shoulder mostly open, so it could drain. By the time your dog and Jess found you
, you had a pretty bad infection. They sedated you for a couple days, but yesterday your fever finally broke. Oh, and apparently you proposed to Duke, thinking he was Jess, while you were delirious.”
“Duke? I did what?” I asked, trying to sit up. “Who is Duke?”
“Duke is the big guy who carried you out of the woods. He sat in the bed of your truck while Jess and I met up with her friends.”
“Where are we?” I asked her.
“Near our homestead,” Grandma said. “Grandpa’s been here a couple times also, but I need him to watch after my girls. Foghorn is being a pain lately…”
“Sic Raider on Foghorn, that’ll take the fight out of him,” I told her with a grin.
“You just like to pick on my baby to get my hair up,” Grandma said, trying to frown, but failing and smiling instead.
“A little bit,” I admitted.
“If you weren’t laid up and already had yer brains scrambled, I’d whack you one!”
I grinned as a furry shape darted inside of the tent, pushing through a loose flap. Raider started barking excitedly, spinning in a circle, jumping up and down like an excited puppy. I grinned and gave him a small wave.
“Hey buddy, what you been up to?” I asked.
“He’s been watching your girlfriend and working with Yager and Diesel when he wasn’t hovering over you. You scared the hell out of me. I’m reconsidering whacking you anyway. You ok with that?”
I snickered, knowing for her to act like this, it had to have scared her and she was over compensating.
“No thank you, ma’am. Why are we here and not back at the homestead?” I asked Grandma, wondering what was going on.
