Fight Like Hell [America Falls Series | Books 1-6]

by Medbury, Scott

Creeping along the inner wall of the parking garage, we moved as swiftly as we could while still being stealthy. I knew I didn’t want to be taken unawares by a couple of gangbangers and I was sure that Arthur felt the same way. Mom, my real mom, used to say if wishes were fishes, we’d walk on the sea, as a way of telling me that I wasn’t always going to be able to get everything I wanted. Back then, when I was just a kid, I never understood what she meant. I do now.

  We had just rounded the first turn in the garage when the guy with the bat stepped out from behind a car right in front of me. A shot of adrenalin sent my heart racing in my chest. I ducked as the bat whistled through the air where my head had just been, slamming into a car’s fender, the nails denting and scratching the metal. I tried to bring the .38 up, but the gangbanger’s foot caught me in the pit of my stomach and I was knocked backwards to the ground, the air whooshing out of my lungs. The revolver slipped from my grasp and skittered a dozen feet across the cold pavement.

  “I got one!” he shouted, stepping over me as I lay gasping for breath. “It’s the guy who gunned down Jack! I bet you wish you had a machine gun now, don’t you bitch? You little punk ass bitch!”

  He raised the bat, its wicked nails shining silver in the dimness of the parking garage. I held my hands up in a futile gesture of self-defense. Shit!

  I closed my eyes as he swung and waited for the blow. It never came. Instead, I heard a grunt of pain and surprise.

  I opened my eyes as the Tiger stumbled to one side, the bat now in one hand as his other struggled to reach around under his shoulder blade. Arthur was a few feet away, balancing on the balls of his feet but the Tiger was oblivious. His face, which had been etched with hate only a moment ago, was now pale. His eyes widened as he found what he had been reaching. I watched, hypnotized. Finally, he gained purchase on whatever he was reaching for and took a deep breath before jerking his arm violently.

  He looked at the bloody object in his hand in disbelief. I had seen throwing knives like it before on the racks in the academy attic. While he was distracted, I started to slowly crawl backwards away from him. I needed that gun.

  My attacker started to turn, as if he suddenly realized that if there had been a knife in his back, then…

  Arthur hit the man with a vicious kick to the same place the knife had struck. Roaring with pain and stumbling with the force of the kick, the gangbanger turned to face him while swinging the bat one handed.

  Arthur walked into the swing, and the thug’s arm, rather than his bat, slammed into Arthur’s side. Allowing this to happen was evidently part of Arthur’s plan, because he then brought his right arm down to trap the wrist of the Tiger and at the same time gave him a brutal palm strike to the chin. Bat-Boy didn’t even groan as he fell to the floor.

  “Are you all right?” Arthur asked, as I scooped up the revolver and scrambled to my feet.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I gasped. I was trying to regain my breath and stood partially bent over while I sucked wind. “Is he dead?”

  “Not yet,” Arthur replied. “But we should finish him off before we move ...”

  His words were cut off by three impossibly loud gun shots coming from behind the car to our side.

  I dropped to the ground, and heard Arthur drop behind me. I scrambled to the car and peered under it, scanning for the feet of the gunmen on the far side. I couldn’t see any.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered to Arthur, still straining to see. “Arthur?”

  I turned. Arthur was lying on his side, his eyes open and unblinking as a deep crimson, almost black, pool of blood formed around him.

  “Shit ... Arthur?”

  A scuffing noise brought me back to reality, and I quickly looked under the car again. This time, my gaze fell on a pair of red leather cowboy boots moving cautiously toward the car I was lying behind.

  Figuring the other Tigers were probably already on their way, I decided this was it. I was going to go out in a blaze of glory. I aimed my gun at the cowboy boots and almost as if he wanted to be shot, the wearer stopped perfectly still, one leg behind the other.

  “Roy?” he called.

  I pulled the trigger. The roar of the handgun was deafening.

  The bullet struck the Tiger wearing the cowboy boots in the right ankle and continued on through his left heel. There was a cry of agony as he collapsed to the concrete. His gun clattering away when he used his hands to break his fall.

  The wounded man turned his head and his eyeballs locked onto mine. For a moment that stretched on forever, we stared at each other. I knew the fear I saw in his eyes was mirrored in my own.

  He reached for his pistol.

  I shot him in the forehead.

  26

  I’d taken my first human life less than 24 hours before, and now I’d taken two more. It seemed I was on a roll. Maybe I was responsible for another, as well, I reminded myself. Arthur.

  I felt sick.

  Arthur was only here because I had wanted to come this way. It may sound strange, but right at that moment, Arthur’s death weighed on me more heavily than the lives I had actually taken. As I lay on the cold concrete in shock, I thought about Karen. If I managed to get back to the academy in one piece, I was going to have to tell her that Arthur was dead.

  As I’d watched them together over the week, I remembered thinking how lucky they were to have each other as the world was falling apart around them. Now, because of my decision, Karen was going to have to face this shit-hole of a world alone. Is this really what being a leader is? Getting people killed with the choices I make? The thought frightened me. Who would ever willingly accept such a responsibility?

  I waited a minute but didn’t hear or see anyone rushing my way. Warily, I slowly pulled myself up into a crouch and peeked over the hood of the car. My luck ran out. In the gloom of the garage ahead, I saw two figures appear.

  They were moving slowly, one holding some form of handgun and the other a rifle or shotgun, I couldn’t tell which. I swung open the cylinder of my .38 and, with trembling hands, shook the four spent cartridges into my hand and carefully set them on the floor. In my pocket I found some new shells and reloaded the revolver. I was trembling so much as I closed the chamber that I was almost in disbelief that I hadn’t dropped any shells.

  Staying low, I moved toward the back of the car, trying to find a better position from which to make my last defense.

  They kept coming, as bold as life, walking to the middle of the lot, slow and deliberate. They were about 20 yards away from where I looked over the trunk of the car, ready to duck if they aimed at me. I knew instantly that one of them was the leader Chen, the brother of the one I had killed in the alley.

  How did I know? I’m not sure, except to say that his fearless and self-confident march toward my hiding place marked him as a leader. He was tall and well-built and despite the cold, wore a black, sleeveless muscle shirt.

  “Don’t come any closer,” I yelled, trying to sound more confident than I was.

  The man walking with Chen stopped instantly, but the leader sauntered on.

  “Stop!”

  This time he did, but not in a submissive way. He planted his feet, and kept his hands by his side, the shotgun pointed safely at the floor. I took in his hard face and slicked back hair. Then he laughed at me. Of all the things that I expected, this was not one of them. I felt myself redden; as a child I hated kids at school laughing at me when I wasn’t in on the joke. It had made me feel weak and stupid. In the vulnerable state I was in right then, his scorn succeeded in doing just that.

  “Well, what have we here? A little man with a big gun. Why don’t you come out and we’ll talk about all this nonsense?”

  He actually sounded reasonable and I almost stood up, but then I spotted his buddy take a step.

  “I said stop!” I yelled and fired a warning shot into the air. It hit the concrete above me and the bullet ricocheted dangerously close. As the chips of concrete and dust fell onto the car, I was gratified to see
a look of uncertainty flash across Chen’s face as he waved the other man back.

  “No need for that, little man,” he said smiling. “I just want to talk to you. I believe you knew my brother?” Unexpectedly, he crouched and put his shotgun on the floor. When he stood he began to walk toward me again, this time with his hands up. I raised my gun and pointed it at his head.

  “Now, now. You wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man, would you?”

  He judged correctly. I wouldn’t – couldn’t – shoot a man who was unarmed with his hands up. My gun hand was shaking, and I knew he could see it.

  “Stop ... I said stop.”

  It sounded weak and he didn’t stop.

  “It’s okay, we’re just gonna talk, little man,” he whispered, as he reached the other side of the car. I felt like I was under the control of a snake charmer. I knew he was lying. As soon as he was within reach of me I was as good as dead.

  That was when the truck screeched around the corner behind them and the parking garage was flooded with light. Chen spun around as the fast-moving vehicle sped toward us.

  Chen’s partner raised an arm to shield his eyes from the bright headlights as the rifle in his hands barked. He was too slow. The truck struck him and, even though it was a glancing blow, he flew off to the side like a rag doll as the truck came barreling on. Chen was a lot quicker. He glanced at me, the soothing look on his face transformed into one of venomous hatred.

  “Not over, bitch!” he spat, before sprinting to the safety of the stairwell. The truck locked up its brakes and screeched to a stop beside me. The passenger side door opened, and Luke held out his hand.

  “Hurry up, get in!” he yelled. “Where’s Arthur?”

  I grabbed Luke’s arm and he helped pull me up into the cab. A rifle shot sounded behind us and we heard the ping of a bullet ricochet off the back of the truck.

  “Where’s Arthur?” Sonny repeated, glancing over from the driver’s seat.

  “He ... he didn’t make it,” I replied, a sob escaping my throat. Sonny’s face spasmed in anger before he stepped on the gas again and we lurched off. I nearly fell out as we took the corner fast, but Luke gripped me tight and managed to pull the door shut as we careened down the ramp.

  I heard a number of shots ping into the back of the truck, but we met no more Tigers as we roared out of the parking garage and skidded onto the icy street. Sonny drove erratically, taking random turns, I assumed in order to confuse any pursuit, but he soon began to slow down.

  “Sonny, what are you doing, dude?” Luke asked, looking at our driver.

  With my hurried entrance into the cab of the truck, Luke had shuffled across and was right next to him now. Not only was Sonny driving slower, but he was hunched over the wheel and seemed to be having trouble keeping the truck straight.

  “Is there something wrong with the truck?” I asked.

  “No, the truck is fine,” he gasped. “Can either of you drive? I’ve been shot.”

  End of Episode 1

  Episode 2: ON THE RUN

  Part One: Get Out

  1

  Sonny pulled the truck to a jerking halt in the middle of the road and slumped over the wheel.

  “Oh shit…” Luke said, a hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “Isaac, can you drive? I haven’t really driven…”

  “I don’t know if I could drive this,” I said, hiding my surprise that Luke, usually so self-confident was perhaps afraid of driving. “I only learned to drive my foster parent’s car after the Flu.”

  “You’ll have to,” Sonny said, weakly. “It’s auto…”

  He struggled to sit up straight and then put the shifter into park before leaning drunkenly over Luke.

  “Isaac, go...” said my friend, a hint of panic in his voice.

  He shuffled across the seat toward me and eased Sonny out of the driver’s seat; as soon as he was away from the door I saw the bullet hole in it. It had obviously been fired as we fled and from the dark stain on his jacket, had hit Sonny in the side. As much as I didn’t want to drive the truck, I wasn’t going to argue while the guy who had rescued us from the Chinese army was sitting there with a gunshot wound.

  I opened my door and jumped out, slamming it behind me before running around the front of the truck and ripping open the driver’s side door. The seat where Sonny had been sitting was splattered with blood. I climbed in and closed the door. Sonny was next to me, resting against Luke.

  “Hold pressure on it here,” Sonny told Luke in a matter of fact way. “I’ve lost enough blood to feel lightheaded, but I think if we can stem the bleeding I’ll be okay. It seems to have passed all the way through ... but ... I don’t think it’s hit anything vital ...”

  He closed his eyes.

  “Drive!” Luke roared at me.

  I put the truck into drive and started down the street. Thank God it was an automatic. I was afraid to drive too fast because of the ice but I found that the truck wasn’t really any more difficult to drive than Eleanor’s Honda. I thought about continuing the evasive route that Sonny had been following, but I was worried it would take too much time. I certainly didn’t want him to bleed to death while I was meandering around Worcester.

  With that in mind, I decided to head straight back to the academy as soon as I came to a cross street I recognized. It took us a good 20 minutes before we finally pulled the truck into the alley near the side door. Ben and Brooke were standing by the door waiting for us when we arrived, along with Karen. My heart sank as I remembered Arthur.

  Although he was pretty out of it, Sonny came to when we pulled him as gently as possible from the truck. We were surrounded by the rest of our group as we laid him on a pile of folded up practice mats just inside the door. Looking around at the concerned faces, I saw Karen trying to catch my eye. I wouldn’t meet her intense gaze though; instead I looked quickly down at Sonny before she could ask the inevitable question. Thankfully none of the others seemed to notice Arthur’s absence… yet.

  In a pained voice, Sonny ordered John to go and get the bottle of vodka he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk and the superglue in the drawer above it. I had no idea what he planned to do and, in truth, I am somewhat ashamed to admit I was spending as much time finding ways to avoid looking at Karen as I did worrying about Sonny. I took it for granted, I think, that Sonny would be okay.

  “Help me hold him down,” Luke said, giving me a tap on the shoulder. “Everyone else just stand back a little, please. When we clean the wound it’s going to hurt like hell.”

  “Alright, I’ll get his shoulders,” I replied, less distracted now as I shuffled around.

  “Help me sit up,” Sonny grunted. “Give me some of that to drink before you pour it on the wound. It’ll help dull the pain, you know?”

  “Sure,” I helped Sonny lift his head and shoulders and allowed him to prop himself up against me. He grimaced in pain.

  “You’ll be okay,” I said to him as he took the bottle from Luke. “After we patch up the holes, you can get some rest. You’ll be good as new in no time.” Sonny’s body tensed and shuddered as he swallowed a couple of good-sized gulps of the vodka.

  Of course, I had no idea if he would be okay and wondered if my words sounded as hollow to him as they did to me.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he said through gritted teeth and handed the bottle back to Luke. “Pour it on.”

  Sonny’s cry echoed throughout the academy.

  Luke applied superglue to the sterilized and surprisingly neat wounds, entry and exit, and sealed them closed. I had no idea superglue could be used that way but, as he worked, Luke told us superglue was originally created for just these sorts of situations.

  Strangely enough, he also said tampons had been created during World War I, originally designed as wound bandages because of their ability to soak up copious amounts of blood. They hadn’t become a feminine hygiene product until later after the war when there was a huge surplus. His educational banter seemed to calm everyone and, once
again, I was grateful I hadn’t set out alone all those days ago.

  “You’ll probably have hellacious scars,” he said to Sonny as he blew on the exit wound to dry the glue quicker. “But there shouldn’t be much else in the way of complications unless the bullet hit something important on its way through.”

  “Do you want us to move you someplace more comfortable?” I asked Sonny.

  “I think I’m good here for now,” he slurred, waving his hand weakly in my direction. “Have somebody bring me a blanket, and make sure the supplies get loaded on the truck ASAP.” He winced as he pushed himself into a more comfortable position on top of the mats. “Luke, give me what’s left of that bottle ... it’ll help me go to sleep faster.”

  I didn’t know if that was a good idea, given our situation, but I held my tongue. Worst case, between us we could load an unconscious Sonny into the truck without too much of a struggle.

  “Here you go, man,” Luke said, handing him the quarter-full bottle of vodka. “Knock yourself out.”

  I looked at Luke, wondering if he’d been trying to make a joke, but he looked serious enough. Now that Sonny was out of action, I took charge again. Time was all important. We only had a small window in which to make our escape.

  “Okay, Ben, why don’t you, Brooke, and Allie start loading up some food, while John and Samara gather blankets and bedding. Luke, you and Mark set up a mat for Sonny in the back of the truck.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait ‘til he’s recovered?” Mark asked. “Isn’t the plan for him to drive? So in case their soldiers sees us, we’ll have a Chinese man driving?”

  “Well, he’s in no shape to drive, as you saw, and we can’t afford to wait ... looks like I’m going to be the one driving. We just have to hope the Chinese Army doesn’t get a good look at me and I don’t crash on the first corner.”

  No one laughed at my attempted humor.

  I looked around at every single one of them, my eyes lingering on Karen for a moment before I moved on.