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

by Medbury, Scott

  Luke took it and they shook hands warmly.

  “War wound?” the Randall asked, gesturing to his hook.

  “Yeah. Looks like you have one too…”

  Randall patted his thigh.

  “Yes, bullet just above the knee,” his eyes grew distant. “Not a Chinese bullet either… have a seat, looks like we have some catching up to do. Bowman, bring us some coffee, will you?”

  “Sir.”

  Bowman exited, and Luke took a seat as Randal made his way back behind the desk.

  “I’m afraid of the answer, but is Isaac still alive? The rest of your group?”

  Randall saw the kid’s mouth tighten. He might be as big as a linebacker, but Randall couldn’t think of him as anything but a kid.

  “Isaac was alive and well, last time I saw him. We lost some escaping Drake Mountain and… some since, but on the whole, yeah most are still alive.”

  The old man nodded. Some tragedy had befallen the kid and he wasn’t about to rip the scab off his wound by asking for more details.

  “And Ragg?”

  Luke dragged his hook across his throat.

  “Good. How?”

  “He caught us on the mountain pass. We managed to kill him in the end but not before he killed Toby and did some damage to Isaac.”

  Randall nodded.

  “He was a formidable prick. You did well to stop him. How did you lose your hand?”

  “I can thank Ragg for that too. He shattered the bones in my hand during the escape, we had to take it off.”

  “I see. Where did you head after you escaped?”

  “We headed south and managed to find ourselves a place to live. A farm. We were there just on five years before we were forced to move on a few months ago.” Luke didn’t want to expand on that story with the Colonel – that conversation would only lead to the tragic confrontation with the Marauders. “What about you? How did it go down?”

  “Your escape was the catalyst for a final confrontation, actually. The Professor was injured and went crazy – well, crazier – and he ordered the Homeland Security to lock my men up. I couldn’t have that of course and it turned to violence. I was shot, but we won, which is why you’re talking to me now and not him I guess.

  “After the smoke cleared we carried him out of there. I’m glad we brought him along, he’s been a valuable contributor here in Concord.”

  Luke doubted the wisdom of giving the Professor a second chance but held his tongue.

  “How did you get out?” he asked.

  Randall shrugged.

  “There was an escape tunnel known only to the top brass. When we saw the enemy incoming, we got the hell out of there. Not quick enough to save everybody, they hit the facility with missiles and it wasn’t as impregnable as we’d been led to believe. We lost a hell of a lot people, but we managed to evacuate nearly half the military personnel who’d survived the battle with Homeland, plus about a hundred kids.”

  “So, the tunnel you had us digging really was just a ruse to keep us busy? You had another escape route the whole time?”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “It was. Come!”

  Bowman brought in a tray with two mugs of steaming black liquid.

  “I can’t believe you have coffee,” Luke asked, sniffing the delicious aroma.

  “It’s instant,” Randall said. “We found a few pallets of it in a Costco. Should be enough to see out my days at least. Tastes like tar, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Luke took a sip.

  “Best coffee I’ve tasted in years,” he said. “Mind you, it is the only coffee I’ve had in years.”

  Randall and Bowman laughed. The younger man took his leave.

  “Now,” said Randall. “Where were we?”

  “The Tunnel.”

  “Ahh, yes. You’re right. The tunnel was to keep the kids busy. All the other work too. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop and all. Can you imagine being cooped up in that hole in the ground with nothing to do?”

  “No, I guess it was the smart thing to do.”

  “So anyway, we hightailed it out of there. It was tough going though, the escape tunnel let out in thick woods and we had to take a path directly east to get out of there and avoid the Chinese. They came in hot.”

  “I know, it’s why I was so surprised when Bowman and his boys pulled up in front of me this afternoon. We didn’t think anyone could make it out. How did you end up here?”

  “Well, we went nomad for a while. Until it was clear that the Professor’s virus had worked, and the Chinese had been forced to retreat west. After two months living hand to mouth, we picked Concord as the site of our resurrection. It was close and big enough to house us plus more. It also had the bonus of being a former Chinese base, so we were able to fit out our little army properly. It stands over two hundred strong now and we have close to five hundred souls all up. So, you said you were at this farmhouse for five years. Why did you leave?”

  Cornered, Luke told the story of the attack by the Marauders and the subsequent pursuit to Manchester without naming the city. While he trusted Colonel Randall, Isaac and the rest would be licking their wounds for a while and wouldn’t want attention from an armed force so close to home when they hadn’t even settled in properly.

  There would be plenty of time later to put out feelers to their neighbors; he was sure it would benefit both settlements if they could develop a good working relationship. Randall didn’t pursue it, perhaps sensing Luke was wanting to keep his cards close to his chest.

  “Marauders, huh? Don’t know the name, but were they based up north? A big group led by a tattooed freak?”

  “Yep, that’s them. They were in Ashland.”

  “Okay, yep we were keeping our eye on them. We only had one skirmish near our road blocks on the 93 south of Plymouth. It didn’t end well for them, probably why they avoided us. We avoided them too.”

  Luke nodded and waited for the obvious question. Almost as if reading his mind, it was the next one from Randall’s lips.

  “So why are you travelling alone?”

  “I couldn’t…” he began, and his voice cracked with emotion. He felt his mouth drag involuntarily at the corners as he struggled to contain his emotions in front of the older man. “I lost someone… sorry.”

  The Colonel stood up and came around to Luke and put his arm around the younger man’s broad shoulders.

  “Nothing to be sorry about, son,” he said, in a low voice.

  The man’s empathy opened the floodgates and Luke was suddenly wracked with sobs that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t control. He buried his face in Randall’s side, helpless not to take comfort in the small act of human kindness.

  They were like that for a long time until Luke’s sobs abated. He pulled away.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, wiping tears from his eyes sheepishly. “You may need to have that uniform dry-cleaned.”

  Randall laughed heartily.

  “As I said, no apology necessary. Sometimes you just need to get it out, especially if you haven’t had someone to talk to.”

  Luke nodded.

  The Colonel went back to his desk and looked out the window as he sat down, wincing at the stiffness in his leg.

  “Looks like it’s nearly time for grub. Will you join us?”

  “Yes, thanks. That would be great. Any chance of a bed for the night?”

  “Of course. Goes without saying. After dinner I’ll have Bowman allocate you a cot in the sleeping quarters. You’re welcome to stay longer if you wish.”

  “Thanks for the offer but I’ll get going tomorrow.”

  “Where are you heading?”

  “East. I want to see the ocean again.”

  “Sounds like a grand plan, son. East is good.”

  “West isn’t? Chinese?”

  “Not unless you cross the Mississippi. That’s their border now. So we hear anyway. Since they fled the Professor’s virus they haven’t been back
across. That doesn’t mean they won’t in the future, but I’m thinking the west and Canada is plenty big enough to keep them busy.

  “No, there’s a ‘colony’ that’s sprung up in New York State. Rochester. Apparently, they call themselves New America. They’re aggressive and they’re spreading. Swallowing up any smaller groups they come across. Rumor is that Aidan Riley is their leader.”

  Luke recognized the name instantly.

  “The President’s son?”

  “The very same. It’s a rumor only at this stage, but one I hope to get confirmation of real soon. I have a four-man team going out in two days to gather intel.”

  “Why now?”

  “Because sooner or later, we’re going to run across them. We’ve taken in some people who crossed three states to get away from them. Apparently, their MO is to give anyone they come across an ultimatum. Join and become loyal citizens of New America, what they call allies, or be wiped out.”

  “Like the Romans?” Luke said.

  “Yeah, just like the Romans. My team will give me an idea of how big they are and how far west they’ve come.”

  Luke started to rethink his decision to stay mum about Manchester. Isaac should know about this, but the threat wasn’t imminent, so he stayed his tongue.

  All up they spoke for two hours before Randall stood up.

  “Okay then, well I’ll show you around some, then we’ll eat,” said Randall.

  8

  The evening meal was surreal. Word had spread about the big red-haired man with the hook for a hand, a long-lost survivor of Drake Mountain. Rushed plans were made and nearly half the community turned out at the City Hall for a feast in his honor. The crowd was too big to fit inside, so given it was an unseasonably warm night, tables were set up on the lawn.

  Luke, the Colonel, Bowman and some other soldiers of an equivalent rank were seated at the head table. He had barely sat down before a wooden goblet of frothy beer was thrust into his hand.

  Randall, holding a goblet of his own, stood and the crowd hushed.

  “Folks! Tonight, we celebrate the appearance of a friend from Drake Mountain. We thought he and his people were lost. Raise your drinks in a toast. To old friends and to those we’ve lost along the way! To Luke!”

  Randall banged his goblet against Luke’s and they both took a long draught. The warm home-brewed draught had a strong nutty flavor to it but was pleasant enough and after half a goblet, went straight to his head. Not only warm with alcohol, he leaned back and watched the happy people of Concord getting on with life.

  The meal was a sight to behold. Fresh vegetables, fruit and meat. Luke began to salivate as they were carving meat from the huge slab of beef on the spit. He hadn’t eaten a proper cooked meal since they had fled the farm and even then, generally chicken or rabbit was usually the meat they consumed.

  Luke ate with relish, in fact he ate so much that his bloated stomach was protruding over the waistband of his pants when he was done. He was just washing down the final mouthful with the dregs of his second beer drink when he saw a painfully thin man with white hair and a scraggly beard making his way through the throng and towards their table.

  Professor Leahy was very different in appearance to the last time Luke had seen him, but his right hand, palsied and pink with scar tissue from the bullet that had pierced his hand during their escape, was the giveaway.

  Luke was unprepared for pure anger, long checked, that he felt at the sight of the Professor. Triggered, memories of the murder of Sonny came flooding back. He put the goblet down, picked up the sharp knife, greasy with the fat of the beef he had just eaten, and began to rise.

  Two things happened. One, the Professor smiled at Luke, his lively eyes belying his decrepit appearance, and approached. Two, Randall gripped Luke’s wrist and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

  “Easy son. He’s paid for his crimes.”

  Luke ignored the Colonel and tried to shake his hand off. He found himself suddenly intent on murder.

  “Luke!” Randall whispered harshly. “Drop the knife, I can’t let you can’t touch the Professor.”

  In his current state of mind, death was no great disincentive for Luke and he bared his teeth in frustration as the Colonel’s iron grip tightened on his wrist. Eventually he was forced to drop the knife onto the table.

  Possibly unaware of the danger he was in, the Professor stopped directly in front of Luke.

  “Greetings honored guest!” he said without an ounce of recognition in his eyes and bowed theatrically before flitting away towards the beef spit, mumbling to himself. It was only then that Luke noticed the deep indentation to the top left of his head.

  His anger slowly receded.

  Randall relaxed his grip but didn’t let go.

  “That’s what I mean by punished. He’s not all there. But you know what? His working mind is still a thing of beauty. You wouldn’t believe how many times he has come up with an idea to save our asses. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have running water or power. Hell, we’ve even got a mini oil refinery.

  “What happened?” Luke asked.

  “One of the girls he’d had in his damned breeding program smashed a rock over his head during our escape. It’s a miracle he survived. One that I’m thankful for.”

  Luke was satisfied. The Professor had received his punishment after all and he was no longer the same man who had ordered Sonny killed five years before. As classic a case of karma biting one in the ass, as he’d ever seen.

  “Fair enough.”

  Randall, satisfied that Luke’s violent urge had passed, released his wrist.

  “These people would have strung you from the nearest tree if you’d harmed a hair on his head by the way,” said Bowman, draining his second goblet of beer and grinning. “How about another beer then?”

  “Why not,” said Luke, gulping the last of his goblet and handing it over.

  After Luke’s third beer, someone broke out a fiddle and began playing. A whoop went up and suddenly people were out of their seats moving tables and forming into lines. Well and truly in the mood to party, Luke found himself on his feet and being dragged towards the makeshift dance floor by the very lovely Becky, Colonel Randall’s raven haired secretary.

  She had appeared out of nowhere. Her dark hair had been let out and she wore a pair of jeans with a flattering pink sweater. Even in his tipsy state he noted the admiring glances of some of the men around him.

  Luke was no Fred Astaire, but he was a passable dancer and with his inhibitions lowered by the home brew, joined in with gusto, ever mindful of his hook as people swirled around him. Becky seemed to find her way back to him within a few rotations and it was perhaps clear to some of the people around, except perhaps Luke, that she had her eye on him.

  After a half-hour of dancing, Luke put up his hands in surrender. He was exhausted. Becky stood on tiptoes and put her hand to his ear.

  “I’m beat,” she said, her warm breath tickling his ear. “Want to go get some fresh air?”

  “I thought you’d never ask!” said Luke. “Lead the way!”

  Luke followed her as she weaved her way through the throng of dancers, gently rebuffing calls for her to dance some more.

  “Ahh, that’s better,” he said, concentrating on walking a straight line. “Haven’t had a workout like that in a while.”

  Becky giggled and reached out to grasp his hand. Her hand was warm and soft, and now, even tipsy and exhausted, Luke couldn’t fail to see that it wasn’t just fresh air she was interested in.

  “We can sit over there,” said Becky.

  He allowed her to pull him over to a wooden bench in the green space behind the council building. Luke let go of her hand as they sat down unsteadily, their shoulders touching. Ever the gentleman, he shuffled away to make some room. She surprised him again by shuffling close enough for their arms to touch.

  “You’re a great dancer for a big guy,” she said with a grin.

  “Thanks,” he sa
id sheepishly. “You too… well not for a big guy – you’re just good.”

  She laughed and grabbed his hand.

  “You’re so cute,” she said, to a blushing Luke. “Can I see your… hook?”

  Luke shrugged, he was sobering quickly and struggling to find a way out of this sticky situation he was in without hurting her feelings.

  “Sure,” he said, and held it out. “Careful, the point is sharpened.”

  She reached out and took it in her hand, gently running her fingers over it and touching the point softly.

  “It’s rough,” she said, as she ran her fingers back over the curve of the hook.

  “Yeah, it’s a pretty crude piece of work. We didn’t really have a lot of tools. Doesn’t work as good as a hand, that’s for sure.”

  She looked up into his eyes.

  “I think it’s very sexy.”

  Luke only just managed to prevent his mouth from dropping open as he pulled his hook away and rested it on the palm of his good hand.

  “Thanks. Um, Becky, look… sorry but…”

  “Oh my god. I was coming on too strong. Sorry, it’s the beer, it went straight to my head.”

  “No! It’s okay, really. I’m very flattered… but….”

  “You have a girl,” she said, looking at the ground.

  Luke felt a knife twist in his chest.

  “Yeah,” he said, tears stinging his eyes. “You’re really nice, though.”

  She laughed and shook her head ruefully.

  “You too,” she said, thankfully still looking at the grass under her feet. “Are you going to stay?”

  “No. I’m just here for the night, but I’m sure I’ll be back sometime. Can I drop by and say hello?”

  “Well sure,” she said, although her tone said she didn’t quite believe him.

  “So where were you from?” he asked.

  The awkwardness passed as they talked. It turns out Becky had been in the Drake Mountain facility too, one of the first kids taken in, along with her brother. He had been killed during the firefight between Randall’s men and the Homeland Security people.

  Neither of them remembered the other, which was unsurprising given that close to six years had passed, and Luke had only been there briefly. Becky was originally from Boston and had fled with her brother and two of his friends. They had also heard of the haven in the White Mountains and had been picked up by a patrol of Randall’s men just south of Lincoln.