Fatima nodded and looked down at the rifle. She hadn’t learned how to use it yet. John put his hands out in a gesture of asking and she gave it to him. He looked at the bolt and pulled the end back, twisting, unlocking the safety. More complicated and cumbersome than a mauser, the mosin-nagant was now ready to fire and he explained how to put the safety back on when they rested and slept at night. It was a simple weapon and powerful at the same time. He wished his M4 had the same power behind it that the mosin did. He handed the rifle back to her and asked her to keep it at the ready.
“We don’t know what we will come across out there.” John said.
They moved out of the library and stayed close to the building. Moving along walls and quickly running across streets they moved further away from what they thought was a safe place.
Chapter 15: Three years after the Day
Isabel woke up to the soreness she hadn’t had in a long time. The fresh feel of having been broken in by a new lover. In this case it wasn’t a new lover but a plot for revenge that would have to move quickly if it was going to work. She gathered her clothes and moved out of the bed. She looked back and saw Collins still sleeping with his hairy back facing her. There were other options she could have picked, none of them would have given her the evidence she needed to send her father on a holy rampage. It was painful for her to sit and she stood up to get some clothes on and move out the door before people started to move around the camp. She didn’t tell Collins what she was going to do. She had always avoided him before, she found him creepy, too aggressive and the look he gave her made her feel uncomfortable and sick at times. He turned out to be perfect for her plan.
She lightly touched her hand behind her and felt the warm wetness on her hands, looking at her finger tips they were covered in fresh blood. She had been enjoying anal sex with her lovers for years now and this was the first time she worried about an injury. Collins could have been too much for what she wanted but this would help sell her story to the rest of the camp.
Grabbing her blouse and torn underwear she ran around the camp barefoot and found the empty spot where John’s tent was set up before he left. She saw the tree line and ran into the woods using the new morning light to navigate through the trees and bushes. Thorns and branches scratched her skin and drew blood as she ran further. She had to describe a place for them to believe she was raped without anybody hearing. She found a clearing where there was once a field. She lay down in the tall grass and rested. This was just as good a place as any. She dropped her underwear and decided it was time to walk back. She had to get herself ready for the act. She ran her story through her mind and picked key points to stick with. She needed to keep things simple so that people couldn’t pick it apart. Barefoot her feet became cut and sore from the sticks and rocks she walked over. She used the pain to draw her tears. She was ready now.
Isabel held her arms around her torso as she emerged from the woods wearing only a shirt. Her legs were cut and small trails of blood traveled down her skin. Tears ran down her face and she looked around for the first people who would find her. She screamed to draw attention and the event started. Women ran up consoling her. She didn’t talk. She was covered in a blanket and taken to the camp doctor, really an EMT before the collapse but no one was going to complain about lack of school when no real doctors were available. The Reverend was brought to the medical tent. From there she told her story about sneaking out to meet John at night, how he lured her out into the woods, and proceeded to rape and sodomize her before leaving the camp. The EMT confirmed she was sodomized, a great sin in the Reverend’s eyes, the type of sin you cleanse by fire.
Whenever she worried people weren’t believing her story more tears ran down her face. She found it easy to have people believe her. The Reverend called for his army to be brought together. Now she would have to see if Collins kept his mouth shut. She had no fear of this. He was a creep, known as an asshole and a control freak. He was selfish and he would go along with any plan that kept it unknown what he had done to her last night. While it was what she asked for, literally, he was more concerned about saving his own ass and would sacrifice an innocent to do so. This is why she picked him.
The Reverend met with his soldiers in the house. His anger kept him pacing in the room before anybody knew what had happened. Collins watched him, worried that he knew and was figuring out what to do with him. He was prepared to put up a fight. He figured he could kill at least two guys before they would take him down and torture him. He felt his knife on his hip and was prepared to pull it out. He waited to see what the Reverend would say first.
“Evil has come to our camp. It was hidden as one of us, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He lured my daughter from the camp and treated her like an animal. This man will be brought in and punished for his crimes.” The Reverend paused.
“Who was it?” Chris asked.
Collins placed his hand on the handle of his knife ready to strike.
“John. One of our best. I should have known not to trust him. He spent too long with the heathens. He is one of these sodomite bastards and must be destroyed into the flaming pits of hell.” The anger in the Reverend’s voice echoed through the room and could be heard outside the house. A vein appeared on his forehead between the part of his long white hair. Spit flew from his mouth. This was not a time for a peaceful holy appearance. God didn’t care about appearance when he punished the wicked.
Collins relaxed, he had to control the exhale of relief so nobody would notice. He found himself trying to act normal.
“This man has a three hour head start on you. Use any resources available and bring him to me. The lord as my witness he will find his end at the end of my blade.”
The Reverend pulled a dagger from his hip with a silver handle shaped like a cross. He plunged the dagger into the table, a chrome colored Jesus looked at the men on the other side, face pouting a plea for help.
Chris looked at the handle and wondered if Jesus was asking to be saved from the Reverend or if he was taking the Reverend’s side of this crusade. Chris, a long time Christian, believed at times that God talked to him. Never directly but through events and odd moments in his life. He tried to listen and he noticed the times things didn’t turn out good for him. He looked at the silver savior in front of him and felt that the blade didn’t belong, or it was telling him its future use was not what it wanted. Something was wrong here.
“What are you waiting for?” The Reverend asked. “Bring me this sodomite piece of shit!” He pounded his fist into the wooden table and the men scrambled around. Collins grabbed the truck keys from the house and rushed back to his tent.
“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…” He repeated the mantra as he thought about what evidence might still be in his tent. If Isabel changed her story later and told the truth he had to cover his ass. He unzipped his tent and closed it behind him. He looked around and quickly removed the cloth ties he used to secure her wrist last night. He stuffed them in his pocket and continued. He flipped the sheets around and noticed blood where she had slept afterwards. He bundled them up and stuffed them in a bag he would take to the camp trash fire. He continued to look around and make sure he didn’t leave any evidence behind. He ran through the events of last night and found himself getting aroused.
“Fuck,” he stopped and cleared his head. “Ok think, think.”
He checked the floor of the tent for any hair he might have pulled out while tugging it. He found a few. He felt like he was running out of time. He could hear the other guys rushing around the camp getting ready to start their search. He gathered the sheets and hair, stuffed everything into a plastic bag and moved out of the tent holding his 12 gauge pump action. Moving through the camp, he reached the opposite side where the trash pit was and saw the coals still red hot. Tossing the bag in, he felt relief that he was now safer. The fire traveled up the plastic and slowly moved to the cloth inside. He wanted to wait and make sure everything burned but it was better to get moving and not be noticed as m
issing.
Turning around he was surprised to see Chris waiting behind him.
“You ready? The other guys are waiting by the truck.” Chris said.
“Yeah.” Collins pulled the keys from his pocket and dangled them in the air. “Let’s get moving.”
Chris looked at the burning material for a second. Then he followed Collins. He thought about what would be so important to burn before such an important mission. Chris didn’t credit himself with being a smart man but it was hard to bullshit him. It could be a skill learned over many card games over seas. What he knew was he could tell when someone was lying. It extended to odd behavior as well. Collins wasn’t the type of guy that threw things away. He always had the same stink on him. Plus it didn’t make sense to throw sheets away when he could have them washed by the women in the camp. Granted Collins was an asshole. Hardly liked by anyone, maybe getting things done for him wasn’t an option. Things didn’t fit. John was a good guy. Chris only talked to him a handful of times but he knew John wasn’t a rapist. Plus why let Isabel live when you could have her disappear and leave no witnesses? It’s not the old world.
Hopping in the back of the truck the men checked their guns and drove towards town. They didn’t know how they would find a guy who was former military and trained to evade capture. They would at least try.
Amir roamed around the streets thinking about his next move. He had food in his bag from the house but now he was unarmed except for his knife. He was lucky to have found the rifle before and now it was gone. He trusted a woman, a Muslim woman and she betrayed him. He grew angry every time he thought about it. He longed for the days at the gas station when life was simple and he only had to deal with a few racist comments a day. Now an army was out to kill him and nobody could stop them if he was found, including him.
Amir looked around and was lost. He didn’t know what part of the city he was in. Nothing looked familiar to him. He noticed a drug store and decided to give it a chance. The glass had been smashed long ago, wrappers covered the floor and some of the shelves were knocked over. He hoped by digging he could find some more food that had not spoiled yet. He grabbed an unopened bottle of water that was left behind and placed it in his bag. The soda disappeared quickly in the weeks after the collapse, yet water was left behind. Americans were a strange people. Moving a shelf up he rummaged through the items on the floor, shifting through broken jars and empty wrappers chewed open by rats. Things looked hopeless.
Food wasn’t a concern right now. He realized what he needed was a way to defend himself. He looked at the counter and wondered if the previous owners were armed like he was at the gas station. Moving around he laughed when he noticed all the lottery tickets were stolen. The shelves full of cigarettes and booze was gone. He looked under the counter and found nothing. He looked in the back room and saw the empty spot where a safe would have been. Papers were rummaged around, littering the floor. Behind the door he found an aluminum baseball bat. Not the best defense against a gun. He sighed, better than nothing, he told himself.
Carrying the bat over his shoulder he walked out of the store and looked around the street. The city was quiet. Birds chirping and the light rustle of trees. For a second he forgot the events of the last day. The world was at peace.
He traveled down the street looking for more opportunities to take advantage of. The more he thought about it the more luck he felt to have found the bat. He looked at it. There were a few dents and scratches on it. He wondered if it was used and if so how many times, and who it was against? He was proud of his new weapon.
He now traveled down the middle of the street. He was tired of hiding, moving around like a snake. Crawling from place to place. This was his home too. Who would tell him otherwise? If he was going to die it would be as a man.
He passed rows of houses with “X” s painted on the doors. Numbers added to the empty spaces between the lines. He remembered at one time what they meant but he quickly forgot finding no use in the information.
Down the street he saw some movement in the distance. It was a dog, looking at him and sniffing the air. He stopped. He knew if there was one there were most likely more. Soon the pack appeared. One dog turned into five, then seven. One walked with a limp, a pit-bull tan in color and muscular. The back leg it limped around with was straight legged, dragging the foot. He stood in the street watching them. They looked back. He knew not to run and instead walked slowly to the yard on his left. The tall grass helped hide him. It wouldn’t hide his scent. He was back to being a snake in the grass. The freedom he felt for a few minutes was now gone. He hated the dogs for doing this to him. He moved towards the back of the house and decided he should try to get inside and see if they would leave the area before he tried traveling again. He checked the side door and found the screen door unlocked but the main door still locked. Amir quickly decided to save time and smashed the window with the bat. He cleared the leftover glass and slid his arm in unlocking the deadbolt.
Inside he smelled the musky scent of mold from the basement and looked up to the main level. Like most houses he was in the kitchen and he started going to the cupboards out of his scavenger habit. He moved around the house looking for anything useful that could have been left behind. The knives were gone from the kitchen, every scrap of food gone. Old furniture littered the living room. Upstairs was littered with old clothes and beds abandoned long ago. He checked the closets hoping to get lucky like he had with the rifle but to no avail.
Entering the hallway he felt the stare of eyes on him. Looking to his left where the stairs were he saw one of the dogs. It was panting, not aggressive. Amir knew he had closed the door behind him. He never checked the basement, had there been a broken window down there? It didn’t matter now. He lifted the bat and the dog raised its lips and started to growl. He heard the clicking of paws on the stairs behind the dog staring him down. More were coming. Amir moved slowly back down the hall, the two bed rooms there had windows that looked over the front porch roof. This was his only route of escape.
Backing into the first door he tried to close it but found too many clothes blocking it. At first he kicked things around then heard the paws coming towards him. He tossed the bag out the window, smashing the glass and creating a hole big enough to travel through. He didn’t have time to clear the glass and half way through the window he looked back seeing the dogs racing through the door. He panicked and cut his shoulder racing through to the roof. He slid and almost dropped his bat. The grit from the tiles dug into his skin like sandpaper. He saw his bag by the edge held up by the gutter.
Amir was on his stomach when he saw one of the pit-bulls stick its head out the window. It looked around and saw him. The head popped back in the house then he saw the dog jump out paws slipping on the window sill. On the tiles the dog checked its balance adjusting to the slant. Amir stood up and raised the bat. The dog growled and barked. Too afraid to attack without the pack it kept him there while others worked their way out the window. Amir realized this was his only chance. He saw another pit-bull sticking its head out and Amir dropped the end of the bat on its head creating a loud yelp. The pit-bull rushed him and Amir swung wildly hitting the body of the dog where the ribs are. The pit-bull regained its footing and backed away. It was still a stalemate.
Another dog peeked out the window and Amir smacked the bat down on its snout. Blood dripped on the window sill. He was doing some damage and started thinking about getting out of this alive.
The pit-bull darted in when Amir attacked the window and grabbed his pants. The dog pulled before Amir could react and threw him on his back. He swung the bat hitting himself in the leg at first. It made him more mad and he started swearing in Farsi. He kicked the dog in the nose and finally the dog let go barking at him. Phlegm flew from its mouth and Amir swung the bat some more. Looking at the window, the pit-bull created enough time so that more dogs were on the roof. He sat up, and charged at the pit-bull, this one had become his nemesis. The other dogs joi
ned in. Amir swung the bat and looked for his bag. He moved toward it, losing his footing. He fell on his back again and the pit-bull rushed in trying to attack the neck. Amir grabbed its collar holding it away. He saw the other dogs rushing in for the kill and he rolled. Taking the pit-bull with him he went over the edge and dropped the twelve feet to the ground landing on the concrete walkway to the front door of the house.
The pit-bull took most of the impact, landing on the bottom. It whimpered and moved in pain. Amir still had the collar in his hands and pushed off the ground using the pit-bull’s neck. The dog didn’t fight back. Trying to stand Amir noticed his knee had hit the pavement and his leg felt funny. He found the bat and used it to walk over to the house. He hit the bag off the edge of the roof while more of the dogs barked at him. He slung it over his back and walked over to the pit-bull. The dog still whimpered and kicked its feet unable to get up.
Amir heard the growling from the roof. He raised the bat and swung it down on the pit-bull ending the conflict once and for all. He repeated this until he had no more energy in him. The bat was speckled in bits of blood, flesh, and bone.
When he was finished he heard nothing from the roof. The dogs had lost their fight and disappeared into the house. Amir moved away toward the street using the bat as a cane. His leg started to swell and he wondered if it was broken. He didn’t have time to look at it deciding instead to put as much distance between him and the dogs as he could.
He moved slowly. The adrenaline started to wear off and the pain in his leg increased. He had to stop soon and figure out what his next move was. In the distance he heard the roar of a motor. He knew of only one group that still had the ability to use a vehicle. He looked around and saw a house that could create some cover for him temporarily.
He shuffled his feet. Hopping with the cane was painful. Being captured by the Lord’s Army was not an option. Never in a million years did he think that coming to America years before would result in this.
After the Day Page 11