Muster

by Christoff Orr

  “Yeah,” Mr. Edict said in a casual tone, “I wanted to let you get a feel for what you’ll be using.”

  “Sounds good,” Tommy said as he walked up to the line. He deposited his range bag and backpack, setting them down next to his rifle bag.

  As Tommy began setting up his rifle and organizing the rest of his gear, Mr. Edict walked over towards Cherry who was sitting, cross-legged, on a chair a few feet behind the line. As Mr. Edict approached, she attempted to stand, but he quickly motioned her to stay seated. She watched warily as he neared her. He was like a shark circling its prey. As he walked past, he lowered his left hand to gently brush some of her long, brown hair. The slight touch sent shivers through Cherry’s whole body, not of pleasure, but of pure terror. She felt paralyzed. It felt similar to sleep paralysis, her body was shutting down out of self-preservation. A part of her felt ashamed that she was so weak, unable to stand and fight for herself. She always imagined herself as being a strong, independent woman, but here she was once again cowering in the sight of evil. Finally, in an attempt to distract Mr. Edict, she muttered, “So, how is Mr. Magnus?”

  Mr. Edict stopped directly behind Cherry and placed his hands on her shoulders, then calmly responded, “You know Mr. Magnus. He’s not one to easily give up. He’s still fighting, though honestly, I don’t know how much longer he’ll be with us.”

  Every molecule in Cherry’s body told her to get up and run, to get as far away as she could, as fast as she could. Yet at the same time, she knew she couldn’t, she knew she wouldn’t get more than ten steps before he would shoot her in the back, then most likely kill Tommy just for being there. A part of her didn’t care, felt that being killed would be the best of all available options at the moment. Even then though, she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t do that to Tommy, she couldn’t do it to herself. Sadly, she feared dying more than she feared a continuous life of servitude. “That’s a shame,” she half-muttered, the words coming out feeble and sterile.

  Mr. Edict began to slowly rub Cherry’s shoulders as he asked, “Is it? After all, we both know what he put you through, back in the early days after the lights came back on.” He paused a moment as he slowly started to work his hand's closer in towards Cherry’s neck.

  Cherry slowly shook her head as she answered, “That was a long time ago. Anyway, I had been through worse before he enlisted me into his service. The way I see it, he put a roof over my head, gave me something to eat and made me part of a family again. I have no complaints.”

  Mr. Edict half-chuckled, not as though he found her answer particularly funny, but more from a sadistic sense of humor. Like that of a person who might make clothing out of the skins of their victims. “That’s funny,” he finally said.

  Cherry tried to turn around to look up at Mr. Edict, but his grip upon her neck had tightened so that it restricted her movement. “What’s funny?” she asked. She tried to force out a little laugh in the hopes of making light of it all, but it came out more like a fearful squeak.

  “That you think you are part of a family,” Mr. Edict said, the words stabbing and cold. Now his grip on her neck had reached a critical point. Cherry subconsciously reached up her left hand and gently tried to loosen Mr. Edict’s grip. This only caused him to squeeze tighter.

  Because he stood behind her and had his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, there was no real threat to Cherry’s life. He was making a statement rather than an actual threat. He bent down slowly until his lips were pressed up against her left ear. His presence invaded her space, as her hair draped around his mouth. He then whispered, “You are not family. You are a whore, a plaything, nothing more than a disposable tool. So don’t lose focus of what your assignment is here. Don’t lose track of why you are here, because if you do, if for one second you think that you and old Tommy Boy here, have any chance at a real life, well you are no longer useful. Do you know what we do with tools that are no longer useful?”

  Cherry had stopped trying to release Mr. Edict’s hand from around her neck and instead did her best at relaxing her hands and laying them in her lap. Her heart was pounding and she could feel her whole body beginning to shake. She quietly whispered, “You kill them?”

  Mr. Edict, his mouth still squeezed up against Cherry’s ear, let out a devilish laugh before he answered, “No, we don’t kill them. We sell them. To be used over and over and over again. Do you want that? Do you want to go back to a Field House?”

  Cherry attempted to shake her head back and forth, but was still greatly restricted by Mr. Edict’s steel grip. “No sir,” she finally responded.

  “Good! Now stay focused and do your job. Remember, the King won't be around forever, and when he’s gone, I’ll make sure that I’m standing tall. So it’s up to you. If you do good, I’ll take care of you. If not, I’ll find the dirtiest, most vile Field House in the nation and put you there,” Mr. Edict hissed. Then, just like that, Mr. Edict released his grip on Cherry’s neck and stood upright. He gave a gentle pat on her shoulder then called out towards Tommy, “We all set?”

  Tommy was sprawled out prone on the ground, the Dragonov rifle all set up and ready. He turned his head slightly towards Mr. Edict as he called out, “Yes sir! Ready to go hot.”

  Mr. Edict walked to the nearby table, picked up a pair of noise canceling earmuffs, and put them on before he nodded towards Tommy. With a smile he called out, “Send it.”

  Tommy turned his attention back downrange and positioned himself again. He ensured that the rifle was seated nice and tight, while he lined up the sights. He was still getting used to the touch of this weapon, as he internally recorded the breaking point of the trigger. He smoothly and methodically squeezed the trigger.

  Mr. Edict looked through a pair of binoculars as he watched a hole sharply punch through the paper target in the upper right portion of the eight ring. “Not bad, it’s a little up and to the right. Send another when ready,” Mr. Edict directed.

  4 Cache Out

  location Unknown

  20 miles past Camp Zion

  Dave drew his gaze heavenward as token sized snow flurries fell upon his face. In the darkened night sky not much could be seen beyond the glow from the three flood lights. They had set up lights to help shine the way for those digging out the cache containers. The lights created a delicate dome around the group, pushing the darkness back, but only so far. There was a limit to their strength, and just beyond their edge the cold dark night waited. Waited for its chance to pounce and regain its domain.

  During their descent, the small snowflakes glistened as they entered into the canopy of light just before they fell upon Dave’s face and body. Every now and then a stiff breeze whipped up and pushed the miniature flakes off to one side or another, tossing them freely and without prejudice. The group had been working for hours, digging and removing the large barrels of supplies. Most of the group had worked up a bit of a sweat, Dave included. He had removed his jacket, allowing the random breeze to embrace his exposed skin as it rushed past.

  He closed his eyes for a second and allowed a few more flakes to fall unabated upon his face, feeling them melt as they came in contact with his skin. Another stiff breeze hurried in, grabbing him firmly and shaking him out of his blissful stupor. He opened up his eyes and looked down at his watch. It was already past midnight, and they had been out in the open for too long.

  “Kyle!” Dave called out as he walked towards the lead truck.

  Kyle, who stood in the back of the lead truck, worked methodically as he pulled on the wench used to pull the final cache barrel up. Upon hearing his name, he quickly turned towards Dave as he responded back, “Yeah, what’s up?”

  Dave raised his left arm and used his right index finger to point to his watch. “How much longer?” he asked.

  Kyle looked at Dave, then back in the hole where his older brother, Sal, was hooking up the cables to finally pull the last barrel out. He then turned back towards Dave and answered, “We’re hooking up the last on
e.” His words struggled to make it through the wind which had increased. “We should have it out, loaded and ready to roll in thirty, maybe forty minutes,” Kyle finished.

  “You got twenty,” Dave yelled back before he turned to head towards the outskirts of the floodlights. He stood there, at the edge of light and dark, and gazed out into the void. How many times, he wondered, had he stood watch, looking for the enemy, knowing they were out there somewhere. During all those hours, all those nights, never had he imagined that he would be doing it in his own country. He let the moment come and go, just like the night wind that continued to dance about and harass the group. He looked off to his left where one of the camp members, Ted, stood. With a wave of his arm, Dave motioned for the young sixteen year-old to come over.

  Ted quickly turned and double-timed over to Dave. “Yes, sir?” Ted responded.

  “I want you to go to every security team member here and make sure they are ready,” Dave said, his eyes scanning the darkness.

  “Ready for what?” Ted asked unsure of what was making Dave uneasy.

  Dave motioned with his left hand out towards the darkness and responded, “Anything! We are out in the open, in a pitch black night, literally standing under a spotlight. We can be seen in just about any direction for who knows how many miles. Then you add on the fact that we had a problem getting two of the cache barrels out and we have been out longer than expected. Everyone is getting tired and complacent.” Dave paused for a moment, then continued, “That is why I want you,” he jabbed his left index finger into Ted’s sternum for emphasis, “to go around and inform each security team member to be ready for anything. Tell them we move out in thirty.”

  Ted stood upright and quickly answered, “Yes sir!”

  A sour expression washed across Dave’s face, “Stop calling me sir. It’s annoying.”

  “Yes…” Ted started, then quickly stopped, unsure of what else to say. Finally after a second to think he just blurted out, “Um, Yes,” before running off to complete his task.

  Dave let a light chuckle escape before he turned to face the darkened landscape behind him. The night stretched out before him, it hung thick and dark like a black canvas. He felt it hang heavy on him, blinding him from what was surrounding them. He couldn’t fight the overwhelming feeling that something was coming. There was a charge in the air which kept washing over him, a tug in his gut that he couldn’t ignore. Someone or something was out there waiting for them, he just knew it, as sure as he knew his own name. But if or when they were going to hit, he had no clue. But no matter how hard he kicked the thought away, it kept crawling back. Its belly scraping on the ground, its lanky arms reaching out for him, its bony fingers tightening around his neck, as the thought fed the fear into his gut.

  Along with the dozen helpers that had come along for the digging, removing, and transporting of the cache barrels, Dave had also picked out another dozen shooters to act as guards. Though calling them shooters was an over exaggeration, and a slight misnomer for the classification of a “shooter.” Most of the real shooters, who either learned the trade before the lights went out or earned their stripes during the FOX Wars, most of those gunfighters were killed off securing the safe passage of those who fled out of Camp Zion. No, all he had were a bunch of sixteen-year-olds, or younger, who were dumb enough to agree to come along and hold a gun.

  When the group first left on this little errand, Dave figured they would have been able to get out, grab the supplies and return within just a few hours. That there would be no real need for fire support. Though, as most plans do, everything fell apart as soon as they started the mission. Within the first few miles, one of the transport trucks blew a tire, costing them nearly an hour, to unload the truck, lift it and replace the blown tire. Now they sat, with nothing to do but wait. Dave knew, that if a big enough force hit them, there would be no escape for him or the rest of the crew on this journey.

  Dave peered up once again towards the darkened layer of storm clouds which still rested firmly above them. No longer did he enjoy the simplicity and wonderment of the softly falling flakes, now as he looked heavenward he cursed the clouds for blocking what should have been a full moon. If there was no cloud coverage, they would have been able to do all of this under the light of the moon, avoiding having to use the floodlights. That would have allowed them to work in relative secrecy, but with these floodlights, they were working with big bright targets on them. Returning his gaze back towards the open darkness, Dave lifted up his left arm some to capture some of the light from the floodlights behind him. As the light shined on his watch, he tilted it to get a better view of the time. It had been thirty minutes since he told Kyle that they had twenty left.

  Letting out an angry growl, Dave spun around and called out, “Kyle!”

  To his surprise, Kyle quickly responded. “Loading up the last one right now boss. We are out of here in five,” He shouted back, directing his words at Dave precisely

  Dave stood there momentarily, a little upset that he didn’t get to vent some more of his frustrations. He then turned his head from side to side as he called out again, “Ted!”

  “Right here,” Ted said as he ran up towards Dave, nearly surprising him.

  “Tell everyone on security, that we are rolling in five. Get them to their transports and tell them to keep an eye out. We’re not done yet, we have to still get back.”

  “Yes…um, yes boss,” Ted said as he attempted a weak salute, before he turned and ran off to inform the others.

  Dave removed his hat and ran his hand through his overgrown thick hair, which was in a desperate need to be washed. Even before he joined up, he never liked long hair, too much to deal with. Before everything went South for them just a few months ago, his mom or Lucy would trim his hair, almost weekly. Now, it had just become another thing in an ever-growing list of things that made him mad. He replaced his ball cap and rested his right hand on the pistol grip of his M4 which hung from a single point sling.

  The sling was draped across him from the top of his right shoulder, down below his left arm. Because of the assumption that this would be a quick trip, and the cooling night, he wasn’t wearing a plate carrier, loaded down with full magazines, instead, he only shoved four extra mages into the thigh pockets of his pants, two in the left side and two in the right. Now as he looked out towards the menacing darkness, he cursed at himself for being so foolish. He had inexcusably became complacent and expected a mission to go easy. He knew that was a mistake and at this point he could only hope and pray, that he won't pay for that mistake with his life.

  A truck rolled up beside Dave, and slowly came to a stop. Kyle leaned out of the passenger window, “We’re all good to go boss. They're taking down the hoist and the last light right now.”

  “Okay,” Dave started before he turned to give a look back towards the last hole, where the final truck had just loaded up the hoist and two men were getting ready to turn off the floodlights. He then turned back towards Kyle, “You lead us back. I’m going to hitch a ride in the last truck out. Watch your spacing.”

  As soon as the final words left Daves lips, a crisp rifle shot echoed in the darkness. The sound raced across the open landscape, harshly embracing all within the lighted landscape. A split second later, the last remaining lit floodlight shattered, sending sparks and glass all around.

  At the sound of the rifle report, Dave dropped to one knee as he simultaneously shouldered his M4 and scanned the darkened night. It was virtually imposable for him to see anything, the darkness hung thick in front of his eyes. Even the soft falling flakes of snow seemed to have been hidden from his site. “Kyle!” he called out, as he remained in a knelt position. His eyes still roamed the vast openness of the night. They might as well have been at the edge of space, for nothing and everything laid out before him.

  “Here boss!” Kyle responded from inside the truck cab.

  “You see where it came from?” Dave quickly asked back.

  “Negat
ive Boss, to busy talking to you,” Kyle answers back, as he kept his hands on the steering wheel and his head slightly lowered.

  Dave waited for a minute more, as he strained his eyes to see into the vast emptiness. He quickly glanced skyward and cursed under his breath once again, that the storm had moved in and took away the possibility of moonlight. “Alright,” Dave started, as he slowly raised to a standing position. “I’m guessing they accomplished what they wanted with that first shot. Not only are we in the dark, but we can’t direct our lights out towards them.”

  “Yeah we can,” Kyle quickly spoke up, eagerness in his voice. “We have two more floodlights, we can kick those back on and scan the area.”

  “If you do that, I’m positive they will take those out as well. They have the upper hand, they know where we are and we don’t know where they are. I’m guessing they have been out there for a bit, waiting and watching.” Dave said as he moved a bit closer to the truck. He reached his left hand outward, allowing it to sniff out the truck, while keeping eyes on the darkness and his right hand hon his weapon. Finally his hand touched the cooled mettle of the truck. Dave moved up against it firmly, using its girth as a form of protection from the unknown.