Survival Rules Series (Book 1): Rules of Survival

by Hunt, Jack

  Corey darted between trees, hopped over mounds of earth and pitched sideways down a steep muddy incline, before they came into view. His hope of taking them out while they were still in the boat was dashed as he watched two of them dragging the boat out of the calm water. Corey dropped to a knee near a large tree. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see if Terry and Vern were coming but all he saw was the blackness of night. He was on his own. It was a lot to expect them to put their lives on the line when they had families to think about getting home to, but that was why he was doing this. Any one of those rangers they’d killed probably had a family that would never see them again, a child who would have to grow up without a parent — all for what — freedom?

  In the distance the rumbling of thunder made him look up at the angry sky.

  It was as if nature itself was responding, closing in on society, ready to swallow it whole. A light rain began to fall, dampening his skin and increasing the scent of pine and fir trees around him. Corey shifted into a better position. He knew his only chance was to take out as many as he could, then move before they became aware that they were only up against one person. He brought up the rifle, and placed the fleshy part of his finger against the trigger ready to take his first shot.

  A shuffle behind him made him turn.

  Jogging towards him as quietly as they could were Vern and Terry, rifles at the ready, with a look of exaggerated determination to offset their fear. They crouched beside him and looked at the inmates on the shore. Corey smiled. He would have gone up against them alone but with support it just made his life easier, and the inmates’ lives worse.

  “Where do you want us?” Vern asked.

  “If they make it into the tree line, our job gets a hell of a lot harder. Vern, you head over to my right, and Terry to the left. Don’t get ahead of yourselves. The last thing you want is friendly fire. Hold your position, until I tell you to move forward.”

  They nodded and shifted into their assigned spots.

  Corey watched as the inmates talked among themselves. They looked divided on which way to go, and at odds with each other. One of them shoved another and rifles were lifted. Go on, shoot each other, he thought. That would be a satisfying end to meaningless lives. But the inmates never turned and slipped forward… remaining unaware of their presence until Corey gave the word to open fire. Three of the six were hit before the others ducked into the tree line. The inmates scattered for cover, then converged slowly towards them using the trees and bushes as cover. There were no buildings for them to hide in, no vehicles to engage behind as Rocky Point Trail was strangely absent of traffic and at least two hundred yards inland.

  A deluge of rain soon soaked the sand beneath their boots, giving the ground almost a mushy feel as Corey told them to move forward. It was a battle of inches. He could hear the inmates calling out to one another. He peered through his night vision scope on top of his rifle and raked the barrel over the trees. Nothing moved across his field of vision. Where were they? He shifted position again, running to the next nearest tree only to have the ground torn up by rounds near him. He dived and rolled before pressing his back against a large boulder. The shooter raked his gun back and forth spraying rounds. Bullets ate up dirt and tree bark, and chipped stone. Vern and Terry were on their faces, staying as low to the forest ground as possible.

  Corey rolled out using another tree as cover, then he noticed one of them running between the trees. He squeezed off a shot and the round hit the guy in the temple sending his bald-headed skull jolting sideways before he collapsed.

  Only two remained.

  “Hey Hauser get back here,” a voice bellowed from afar.

  Corey scanned his field of vision and saw one heading back to the shore in fear. He was about to take aim when Vern bellowed that he would take care of him. He splintered off while Terry and Corey moved in on the final guy.

  Confident, he used hand signals to indicate to Terry when and where to press forward. More bullets peppered the trees nearby showering them in bark. The last guy was hard to spot. He kept moving but unlike the others who darted between the trees, this one must have been crawling back, rolling and sidling up to trees as it was hard to get a bead on him.

  A single round echoed down by the shore. Shortly after it was followed by another.

  Corey stayed focused, roving the muzzle over the terrain.

  A sudden flurry of rounds and Terry shouted, “I’m hit.”

  Damn it. Zigzagging his way across to him, Corey hurried over to find him gripping his shoulder. He glanced up to check his position was covered before tearing open his jacket and getting a better look.

  “Am I going to die?”

  Corey squinted before patting him. “It’s gone straight through. You’ll live.”

  Suddenly he saw movement off to his left. The last guy was up and running. He needed to tend to the wound but he was damned if he would let one of them get away.

  “Take off your jacket, tie something off on that and apply pressure and keep your body upright. I’ll be right back.” He broke away and took off. The sound of his boots hitting the dirt alerted the inmate, and he turned and fired off another flurry of rounds, several kicking up dirt and pinging off boulders all around him. Corey jumped for cover and had to stay low as another cluster of bullets slammed into the trees around him.

  He had made it to a clearing, where the trees were spread further apart, all of which meant he was in deep shit if he had to move again. He cursed under his breath and wiggled across the forest floor trying to close the gap. More rounds whizzed overhead, bark and leaves rained down. He rolled behind a tree and spotted the guy dart out, again trying to make it to the trail. He must have thought there were homes nearby but there weren’t. One side of the lake was nothing but forest and trails.

  He raised his rifle to take a shot but had to hit the ground again as more rounds cut into mounds of earth only a stone’s throw away. He took a deep breath and when the shooting stopped, he rose and burst forward quickly shifting away from his last position and hoping to cut him off near the trail.

  Dark forms hurried through the forest. The inmate looked back and then tried to shoot but this time Corey was the one to get off a three-burst round, and this time one struck him. Where? He had no idea. All he saw was the guy hit the ground.

  Corey scrambled up another dirt slope and then launched himself off a rocky edge and came down only a few feet from the man who had his back against a tree. His rifle was beside him. He went for it but Corey shook his head, keeping his finger on the trigger. In the dim light of the moon, he could see who it was. It was the same guy from the cabin, although his clothes were different. He’d changed out of the ones he’d seen.

  “I would ask you why you killed him but it would be pointless,” Corey said referring to Noah. He approached him, keeping his rifle muzzle trained on him. “Was it worth it? Huh?”

  “You don’t know what it’s like to be pushed into a corner, to have the walls close in on you and know you will never get out. But you will.”

  Corey shook his head. “Yeah? You’re all the same. You break the law and then plead for mercy. But did you show any mercy when you killed those rangers, or a friend of ours?”

  “You think you’re better than us, don’t you?” He coughed and then grimaced as he squeezed his injured leg. The upper pant leg was soaked with blood. “Given enough time, under the right circumstances you will return to your basic instincts of killing to survive.”

  They locked eyes for a second or two before he dropped his chin. “Do it. Get it over with. You’ll be doing me a favor.”

  “No,” Coreys said, shaking his head. “I’ll take you in.”

  “I’m not going in. None of us are.” He reached for his rifle, and Corey had no other choice. He squeezed off two rounds, both burrowing deep into the man’s chest. His body slumped to one side and Corey walked over and rooted through his pockets. They were empty except for a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out a
nd lit it, blowing smoke into the air as he thought about the man’s final dying words. Who was he? What he had done to land himself inside?

  “Corey. Corey!” Terry yelled.

  He scooped up the man’s gun and jogged back to where he’d left Terry but he wasn’t there. He scanned the trees and spotted him standing close to the shore. He rushed over to find Vern lying dead on the ground, one round straight through the back of his head. A wave of guilt came over him. “One of them got away,” Terry said pointing to the boat which was now a fair distance from shore. Corey brought up his rifle and looked through the scope at the man rowing. He was too far to take a shot.

  Corey crouched beside Vern and placed a hand on his back and offered up a silent prayer, and a request for forgiveness. “He knew what he was going into, Corey,” Terry said. “It was Vern who convinced me to come and help you.”

  He nodded but it didn’t make it any better.

  His thoughts went to all his buddies he lost in Iraq.

  It was one thing to lose someone in the heat of war on foreign soil, but here in America? It should have never happened. But it was happening and that was what worried him. How many more would die before society rallied together and power was restored? How many would escape justice? One thing was sure, the future would test their mettle, pose life-altering decisions and change them. For better or worse, that was to be seen.

  29

  The line had been crossed. There was no going back to who they were before this. At daybreak, as a light breeze blew across the town of Midway, Tyler and Nate loaded the bodies of their attackers into the back of the Jeep and dumped them in a river on the outskirts of town. They could have left them to rot, or buried them, because the chances of them being caught were slim to none but Erika didn’t want them anywhere near her parents’ home.

  As they stood by the banks of the river watching the last of the men sink into a watery grave, Nate said, “You have to admit what she did was some pretty cold shit. I mean I’ve been pissed at exes before but that was on a whole other level. Aren’t you pleased that first date of yours didn’t go well?” He snorted. Without looking at Tyler he continued, “Makes you wonder what went wrong in their relationship.” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Still, perhaps it’s best we keep that gun far from her.” Nate patted Tyler on the back and chuckled to himself as he ambled back up the steep slope to the road.

  Because Erika had chosen to stay behind at the house while they disposed of the bodies, Tyler was certain she hadn’t changed her mind about leaving, but not everything was as it seemed. Upon returning, she strolled out and tossed a new bag of gear into the back of the Jeep and told them she was going with them. It was a surprise, for sure. As pleased as he was to hear that, he didn’t want her regretting her decision, so he gave her a way out.

  “Are you sure?” Tyler asked. “It won’t be easy.”

  Erika looked back at her childhood home with a heavy heart, nodding slowly as she brought a hand up to her head. “There’s nothing left for me here. I can’t stay. Not after what happened.”

  Tyler wasn’t sure what caused the sudden change of heart as upon their arrival yesterday she had given him the impression that she wanted to remain, but that was before killing her ex in such brutal fashion. It was clear something had clicked on inside her, or switched off maybe. Was it her need to be with others? Was it her humanity? Time would tell. Killing, whether it be for survival or not, changed a person. How? That depended on the individual, who they had killed and the reason behind it. Before leaving, Tyler siphoned what gas he could from her father’s vehicles and managed to fill up two five-gallon steel containers. He loaded them in the back and then fished around for some other useful items in his garage to take as he didn’t want to have to stop unless it was to piss or fill up with more gas. He figured if they kept driving, they would reach Whitefish by nightfall.

  Bailey hopped up into the back of the Jeep beside Nate and curled up next to him waiting to go while Erika went and paid her last respects at her parents’ graves. Before the sun had fully risen, they got back on the road heading north. As they had taken a different route to the one Lou had marked out, it meant they wouldn’t be able to drop in on his old pal Ralph Brunson, but based on Lou’s description of his mental health, they all agreed that was probably a good thing. The fact was, the new world they had entered presented many challenges — lovers could become enemies, family could die, and loyalties would be tested.

  Later that evening, the tragic news that two of Whitefish’s residents had died spread like wildfire. Although Corey could have had an officer deliver the death notifications, he felt it was only right to tell them himself. They weren’t just the mothers and kids of his friends and co-workers, they were family, a part of his close-knit community that he had come to call home. Over the years they’d swapped stories at BBQ’s, given each other a hand when moving to a new home, looked after their kids when they wanted a date night, and attended the same church. That’s what made it so hard to tell them. Many tears fell that night, and in all his years in the military nothing came close to the emotional anguish he felt when he saw their pain.

  From there, friends of the family told others, and even though Noah’s and Vern’s families were too grief-stricken to attend, a large number from the community gathered together on Whitefish Beach for a vigil to show its support for the fallen. With all the trouble the town was facing, and questions unanswered, Corey imagined only a few friends would attend but over two hundred showed up at the lake to pay their respects.

  A roaring fire was lit, and floating candles donated by a local store owner were released on the lake. The flickering of fire mesmerized him and the crowd as he stood beside Ella, his arm wrapped around her tightly. A strong wind whipped at the crowd’s jackets as prayers were offered up, and a few close friends led a church group in the song “Amazing Grace.” Corey glanced at two police officers patrolling the perimeter on bicycles. Earlier that night after dropping Terry off at the hospital, he’d given his father’s utility truck to the city. A decision his father would no doubt argue about. But it didn’t matter. If it meant making their job easier, he would do whatever was necessary, and that included volunteering. Jim Bruce, the current police chief of Whitefish, was grateful and had said he would have a schedule drawn up within the next forty-eight hours. In all truth, the chief was of the belief that the lights would come back on. Corey knew otherwise.

  “When will Terry get out?” Ella asked.

  “Soon. Though he still thinks he’s at death’s door but he’ll live. He’s in good hands. The hospital is running on backup generators for the time being.”

  “How long do you think they can keep that up?”

  “It’s not the machines I’m worried about but the gas. With the power out, and little to no transportation, no trucks will be delivering fuel any time soon.”

  She nodded and sighed. “What about your father?”

  “I’ll ask him to donate what is left in the store to the city.”

  “He won’t do that. You know him. He’ll be back at that store tomorrow, loading up and carrying it away to hide in the mountains.”

  “Not if I can help it,” he said.

  “I’m just glad you’re safe.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss.

  As they turned to leave and head back home, Corey squinted at two people and a dog standing near a Jeep parked on the road. It caught his attention as the engine was ticking over and the headlights were cutting into the night. There were few vehicles in operation and those that were working were either being used by the cops or the owners were keeping them out of sight. Someone killed the engine, the lights went out, and a third person stepped out of the driver’s side. As soon as his eyes adjusted, a smile broadened on his face.

  “Hello brother,” Tyler said.

  Corey bit down on his lower lip holding in a well of emotion before smiling. He and Ella met them a few feet away from the Jeep. He broke away and gave him a hug, holding him
tight. “Steady.”

  “It’s just good to see you.”

  “Good to see you too,” Tyler replied.

  Corey gripped his shoulder. “When did you arrive?”

  “Half an hour ago. I went over to the store but it was locked up, and then went past dad’s place, then yours. We got stopped by a cop heading through town and he said you were down here.” He chuckled. “Said you donated a truck to the town. That right?”

  “It’s dad’s. It’s on loan.”

  Tyler smirked. “He’ll love that. Is he up at the cabin?”

  “Yeah. Still waiting for me. You… coming up?”

  Tyler ran a hand over his face and looked past him towards the crowd.

  “He talks about you, Tyler.”

  “Yeah? Let me guess, when he’s giving workshops and showing them the videos of what not to do.”

  His father had recorded them while they performed all manner of survival lessons, like target practice, making a fire without matches, first aid, pitching different outdoor shelters, sparring etc. Tyler had thought he did it to have a memory of them. Nope. He used them in his workshops to show people what not to do. Of course, that meant Tyler was often used an example. It was humiliating and another reason why his relationship with his father had broken down. Corey pulled a face and glanced around. “He’s changed, Tyler. Not entirely but… well you should see for yourself.”

  “Not sure I want to. I was hoping I could stay with you at least until we find out what’s really happening.”