The Redemption Trilogy

by A. J. Sikes

  “The gas station. We go there. Hide for now. Rest.”

  “And then? You still think we gonna make it to Galveston.”

  Emily had a reply on her tongue, but the whine of an engine snapped her mouth shut. She dropped down and slunk back behind the last house in the neighborhood, looking everywhere for the vehicle. A small pickup truck nosed its way out of the refinery. The driver turned south and accelerated, leaving a trail of dust in their wake.

  “This is our chance, Dani,” Emily said. Without giving fear a chance to stop her, she raced forward across the open ground for the gas station. Danitha’s footfalls sounded in the earth behind her and soon they were collapsing together against the wall of the building, where a single gray door stood half open. Debris was mounded up around it. After examining it for a moment, Emily had to accept that someone had purposefully made a path to the door.

  She stayed in a crouch and leaned over to push on the door. It swung a few inches before stopping. A loud twang echoed from inside the building and something flew past Emily’s head. She crouched against the wall and searched the ground for what had nearly hit her. Something thin and dark had bounced off the pavement. Emily went to retrieve the object. It was a short arrow.

  Danitha shook her head and said, “Uh-uh. Somebody putting traps on that door. I am not going in there.”

  Emily was inclined to agree with her, but the familiar whine of a surging motor came down the road.

  “We’re in the open here,” she said, before shoving on the door and rushing inside with her head down. Nothing else came flying at her. She turned and called to Danitha, but the woman was already inside.

  “It’s the militia men. They coming back, and now you got us inside their hideout.”

  Emily shushed her and moved deeper into the building. They’d come into what used to be the back room of a convenience store. Empty shelves lined the walls, along with a cage of empty water cooler bottles lying on their sides. A small puddle formed beneath one of the bottles, but the others were all long-since dry. A small crossbow hung on the wall opposite the door they’d come in. A string connected it to a pulley hung above the door.

  Outside, the motor’s noise swelled in volume, then slowly faded as the vehicle passed the gas station and continued down the road.

  “See,” Emily said. “We’re safe. Only for now, maybe, but nobody is coming in here after us.”

  “And what do we do now we in here? Wait for them to come back?”

  “Maybe there’s something we can use for a weapon inside.”

  “And now you talking about weapons, when we could’ve had some—”

  Emily stopped her with a look. Now was not the time for I told you so. Danitha got the hint.

  “So, we go hunting around in here. What about traps like that one?” she asked, pointing to the crossbow.

  “Be careful. We have to get somewhere we can hide, and this is the best we have now.”

  Danitha wore a heavy frown on her face, and it took her a moment before she nodded her agreement.

  They moved through the space cautiously, and didn’t find any more traps, or set any off. But they didn’t find much of use either. Someone had used the building as a hideout. The shelves inside the store were jammed up against the front windows like barricades. Bullet holes pockmarked the walls, and blood stains marked the floor in places.

  Only a single cooler remained standing. It didn’t work, of course, but it was in decent shape. Everything else was either smashed or pushed to the front of the store.

  Danitha walked over to the cooler. “Hey, Professor,” she said. “There’s some food in here.”

  Emily joined her and they checked around the door for wires or anything that could be a trap.

  “Looks okay,” Dani said.

  “I’ll open—”

  The sound of wheels on gravel cut her off. The truck had come back, and it was outside, behind the store.

  The store counter was overturned against a wall, near the front of the space. Danitha ran to it, and slid onto the ground where she balled up with her hands over her ears. Emily followed her and tucked herself behind the counter, shivering with fright.

  She felt around on the floor for anything she might use as a weapon, and now regretted denying Danitha’s suggestion that they arm themselves before fleeing the militia neighborhood. Her hand brushed against something metallic and boxy. Whatever it was, it filled her hand and felt heavy. She could strike out with it if she had to.

  As they waited, Emily dreaded the eventual sound of footfalls entering the store. A glint of light caught on the object in her hand, and she held it out enough to examine what she had found.

  It was a magazine, like for the weapon Salvador carried. He’d shown her one when she visited him at Camp Pendleton. This one was full of bullets though, shiny brass and copper reflected bits of light filtering in through gaps in the barricade.

  Footsteps finally broke into the silence of the space, slowly coming closer.

  Danitha clutched at Emily’s arm, but she held a finger to her lips. She held up the magazine and mimed striking with it. Danitha nodded, even as she shivered with terror. Emily was only just holding herself back from screaming and racing out to meet their fate head on. That’s what Chava would have done. He’d told her always to throw the first punch if she had to, and now here she was hiding.

  Emily was about to rise up and confront whoever had come into the space when a young female voice said, “Well. I guess I have company. So, who wants to die first?”

  — 8 —

  Jed threw his hands out to either side, waving and shouting. “Cease fire! Friendly! Friendly!”

  “You were warned!” the guard shouted down to him. “Keeps your hands off your weapons or you will be painted hostile!”

  Garza was half out the window and had his M27 at the ready.

  “Put it down, Garza!” Jed shouted at him, then whirled around to face the gate guards. “We’re fucking friendly!”

  They’d stopped firing, but still had their weapons trained on Jed and his squad.

  “You can say that all day,” one of the guards yelled back. “We’ll believe you when we’re ready.”

  “And when does that happen? After you shoot us so I have to prove I can call in a nine line?”

  The guards all passed a few words between them. Some of them shrugged, as if they accepted Jed was legit. But the one who first hailed him still refused to let them in.

  “You’re not expected, so we have to treat you as potential enemy. Sorry. That’s how it is now. Wait one,” he said and leaned down to his shoulder mic again.

  “You got commo to Galveston?” Jed asked.

  The guard carried on his commo before answering Jed’s question with one of his own.

  “Who wants to know? You still haven’t given us all your names. Anybody can put on a scavenged set of digie-cams and call themselves a Marine. How do we know you didn’t steal all that gear?”

  “You motherfuckers want to come down and inspect us in formation?” Garza yelled. He’d let his weapon hang slack again, and had his hands out to his sides.

  “Stand down, Garza,” Jed said. “Y’all dismount. Weapons down. C’mon.”

  “Sergeant…” Keoh said. None of them had gotten out, and not even Garza looked ready to move any closer to the gate.

  “These guys are jumpy, that’s all,” Jed said, waving his people forward. “I trust them. Now c’mon.”

  McKitrick turned off the engine and got out. Garza followed, then Keoh. The plus two brothers were last, again. As the squad got closer, Jed waved them forward, hoping they would cool down. Garza was ready to go off. McKitrick, Mehta, and Keoh were only a little less on edge, and Parsons looked about ready to shit himself.

  Jed turned back to the gate. The guards above stayed as they were: weapons up and aimed at his face.

  A door opened in the house nearest the gate, and a lanky older man stepped out. He closed the door and made his way d
own the front walk, keeping an eye on Jed and his people. He wore the same Navy fatigues as the guards and carried a sidearm. At the gate, he stopped with his hands on his hips and yelled out to Jed, “You want to explain yourselves to me?” he demanded.

  Jed couldn’t see the man’s rank, but he held himself like an officer, and sounded like one.

  If it walks like a dick and talks like a dick…

  “Sir, we’re US Marines, from Galveston—”

  “Then you’re the only US Marines in Texas. How’d you make it off the island before the bridges went up?”

  “I—Sir, we were this side of the bay when it happened.”

  How does he know about it?. Does he have commo we don’t?

  “Care to explain that to me? How come you knew to be on this side of the water? Maybe you’re the bombers and you’re here to finish what you started.”

  “Bombers? Sir, we’re with the—”

  “You want me to believe you’re really with the Marines, then you’ll have to show me some proof.”

  Jed wanted to holler at the guy or, better yet, beat him into accepting the truth. But whoever he was, he had four men with weapons trained on Jed and his people. Bringing a fight to the situation wouldn’t help Jed’s chances and might just end him and his squad where they stood.

  “Sir, if we could prove ourselves to you, we would. All we have is our word right now. Our TOC isn’t replying, and it sounds like you know more about what happened to them than we do.”

  The man exhaled loudly then called over to one of the guards on the ground.

  “Let ’em in. I’ll handle this.”

  The guard paused just long enough for the guy to build up steam and let it out.

  “I said open the damn gate!”

  “Yessir!”

  Two guards on the ground moved forward, one with his weapon up, the other with a key ring. He unlocked the gate and swung it wide, bringing his own weapon up to cover Jed’s entry. He waited at the gate until his people came up.

  “Keep cool, y’all,” he told them before turning to enter the neighborhood.

  Now that he was closer to the guards, Jed confirmed them as sailors. Their uniforms were in bad shape, but these guys were Navy all the way. Most of them were close to Parsons and Mehta in age. The guard with the key ring gave McKitrick and Keoh a once over as they passed through the gate.

  Jed spotted the guy’s E4 rank insignia. He was too busy checking out McKitrick to notice Jed stepping into his face and glaring. Through clenched teeth, Jed said, “I think you might be concentrating on the wrong AO there, Petty.”

  The guy stepped back a pace and sent a pleading glance to the other guards. They chuckled and ignored him.

  “Fix yourself, Early,” one of the guards said to the guy with the keys. Jed moved past the man and led his squad forward. The gate was quickly closed and relocked behind them, and the guards went back to walking the perimeter.

  The old guy with the pistol on his hip waved them forward.

  “Welcome to COP Gray. I’m Commander Mercer,” he said and quickly lifted his eyebrows, like he expected Jed to do something.

  Jed straightened his posture and lifted a salute. “Sergeant Welch, sir. 25th Marines, Galveston.”

  Mercer snapped a salute and walked back to the house he’d come from, waving a hand for Jed to follow. “Come with me, Sergeant. Your people can stay here and help watch my gate.”

  Turning to his squad, Jed said, “Keep it extra cool. No bullshitting, rah? I bet this guy eats UCMJ, shits it out, and eats it twice.”

  “I heard that, Sergeant,” Mercer called over his shoulder. “And you’re not wrong. That’s why I’m in charge here.”

  Jed could have kicked himself for getting caught out like a boot. But Mercer didn’t sound pissed off, at least not yet.

  “You have a garrison here, sir?” Jed asked as he moved to follow the commander up the walk to the house.

  “Sort of,” he said, turning around at the door to the house. “I have my men, enough to keep us safe for now, plus a headquarters element handling commo and staff crap. And about a hundred and fifty civilians trying to rebuild their lives with nothing but hope and the scraps we’ve managed to salvage. We’ll talk more in my office.”

  Mercer’s guards cast sideways looks in their direction. Jed could hear the men in the guard towers making commo checks, confirming all clear outside the wire. His squad milled around just inside the gate. Garza had a hand on his weapon again, and so did McKitrick and Keoh. The plus two team of Parsons and Mehta hung back from the others, but kept a ready posture, with their weapons held close.

  Jed took in the hazy air hanging above the refinery they’d walked through. It looked a lot like industrial areas of New York where he’d fought against the Variants. He felt a nagging worry about them for a second, but it passed as quickly as it came.

  They entered the house. Mercer took a seat behind a desk to the left of the front door. Armchairs and couches lined the walls of the front room. A darkened hall stretched back into the house. None of the lights were on in the front room either, and it took a bit for Jed’s eyes to adjust to the dimness. It didn’t feel much different from offices on Parris Island. Mercer even sat in the same posture as Jed’s squad leader would on the many days Jed had received an NJP. Oddly, the whole scene felt like home. So, he played along.

  He came to attention in front of Mercer’s desk.

  Mercer’s lips curled into a grim smile. “Who told you to come here, Sergeant?”

  “Nobody, sir. We’d linked up with Greg Radout and his people, down by the causeway, then we separated after the bridges went up. Radout mentioned you—”

  “Separated. Dirty work done, they went their way, you went yours. That it?”

  “Yes—No. Sir, it was…we didn’t—”

  “Who blew the bridges? You or them?”

  Jed’s assessment of Mercer switched in a heartbeat from showboat to asshole. He couldn’t decide whether to just shoot the man and get it over with, or stick to answering his questions honestly. The guy obviously trusted Jed enough to bring him and his people into his perimeter and leave them armed.

  But Jed’s patience with being labeled a terrorist had reached a limit. He relaxed his posture, put his fists on the edge of the desk, and stared the commander in the eye.

  “Sir, we didn’t bomb anything. We’re lucky to be alive. There’s a sapper on the loose around here, and we’re on the same fucking side as you.”

  Mercer stared back at him, then let out a short laugh and said, “Spoken like a Marine. Okay, Sergeant, secure the attitude, but you and your people are in my good books. Now, how about telling me how you got here? You mentioned Radout. You mean that Six Team bunch?”

  Jed straightened a bit and brought his hands back to his sides before he replied.

  “That’s right, sir. We’d found a body in the bay and our LT said it was someone from Six Team.”

  “I know Greg Radout. Good man, even if he is on the wrong side of things. Who’s your LT?”

  “First Lieutenant Staples.”

  “And he’s the one not answering at your TOC.”

  “Yes, sir. The body we found was chewed on, like a Variant attack. We couldn’t confirm, but—”

  Mercer waved a hand at the air.

  “Bodies are a dime a dozen in this state. And if you’re telling me the monsters are back, you can walk that story back up the ass you pulled it from. If they were back, I think we’d have seen them already. They’re attracted to noise and movement. We’ve been making plenty of both in the past two months rebuilding this neighborhood, no thanks to Radout’s bunch. Have you seen any of the things? What evidence do you have?”

  “Only the body we found, sir. It had bite marks on it that looked like a Variant.”

  “Looked like. Who confirmed this for you? You have CDC people with you? Which one of you is the scientist?”

  Jed felt the conversation slipping out of his hands, and he didn�
��t have anything he could use to get hold of it again.

  “What did you think you’d find here, Sergeant Welch? I’m genuinely curious. You think we’re here because CENTCOM wants us here? You think that’s why you were on Galveston?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jed said, surprised at the direction Mercer was going. “We’re supposed to receive refugees there, process them, and move them inland to the rebuilt neighborhoods. Like this one here, I guess.”

  “Yes, and you guess wrong, Sergeant. CENTCOM is a joke. Whatever’s out there pretending it controls things is a farce. There is no central control anymore. The president was always a figurehead, and now he doesn’t even exist. We’re in the same boat as you here, cut off from real support and flapping in the wind. But we’re surviving, because of people like me taking charge of the situation. And now I have to figure out what to do with you.”

  “Sir?”

  “You can stay here, but not for long. We barely have the resources to house or feed the people we have, let alone a squad of hungry Marines. And even though I’m smiling as I look at you, on the inside I’m not entirely convinced you’re friendly. The last Marines who came through here were none too pleasant to my people. So, I can’t fully trust you. I can’t afford to take that risk.”

  Jed’s mind spun back to what the gate guard had said about Marines being here ‘again’.

  “Sir, which Marines? Was it Sergeant Kipler? Jordan?”

  “I didn’t get their names, but it was a squad of men who had been on Galveston. They came, they saw, they made me uncomfortable. So, I sent them packing, same as I’m going to do with you.”

  “Sir, we’re—”

  “Save it, Sergeant,” Mercer said, standing up. “I don’t think you’re a threat. If I did, I’d have taken your weapons off you when you walked through my gate. But I need to know I can trust you before I let you leave.”

  “Sir?”

  “I can’t just let you walk out of here. What if you go running back to your master? The sapper,” Mercer said with a devil’s smirk twisting his lips.