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

by Medbury, Scott

  Eshman had been as curious as the others when the motorcycle came up behind them. They weren’t expecting any company until early tomorrow morning, and even then, it was supposed to be tanks and troops. Maybe it was a messenger? Then the motorcyclist had made a run for it, and Eshman was buzzing. He sent a Hummer with four men to pursue the stranger who was, almost certainly a spy.

  “Try not to kill him, just capture him,” he ordered, not expecting they would have any luck catching the rider. He had too much of a head start.

  He watched them go and then headed for the command tent. He stalked up to the map and quickly ran his finger along the roads north and south of the 90. He judged that it didn’t matter which way the bike turned to lose his men, at some point they’d end up back on the 90. It was the quickest way east, and if Eshman was right, this rider was from the group in Concord.

  On the map, he picked the most likely point to lay a trap, then went to the back of the tent and pulled out the bag that contained his M24 sniper rifle. He left it in the bag and carried it outside.

  “Johnson, start the Jeep, we’re going for a little ride.”

  ***

  Somehow Bowman managed to lose his pursuers. He’d turned off the thruway and headed into Montezuma. They’d been hot on his tail for a while there, but the bike’s ability to get through tight spots in the abandoned town and its speed once he was on the back roads meant that he’d given them the shake.

  He pulled over and consulted his map as he took a sip of water. He was on a small road north east of Montezuma and plotted a course that would take him further east and let him merge back onto the 90 about five miles past the road block. He folded the map and put it away.

  Before setting off, he tapped the fuel tank with his knuckle. About half a tank left. He knelt and reached under the seat, unclasping the second (he’d already used the first) of the makeshift fuel bottles the Professor had fashioned. He quickly set about emptying it into the bike’s tank.

  The bottle didn’t fill it up, but he was confident he had enough fuel to make it back to Concord. He set off as the sun was sinking below the horizon. He’d hold off putting the headlight on as long as he could.

  He made it to the 90 with no drama and paused, looking both ways to ensure there was no unwelcome company in either direction. There wasn’t. He gunned the bike and took off towards home.

  Eshman had only just scrambled onto the roof of the old roadhouse when he heard the buzz of a motorcycle coming from the west. He quickly scrambled to the ridge, staying just below its line and pulled his always loaded weapon out its bag. He didn’t have time to deploy the tripod, and it wasn’t suitable for his position on the roof anyway.

  With rifle in hand, he edged closer, pausing as the bike got louder. When it was past, he quickly leaned over the edge resting the barrel on the ridge and put the scope to his eye, efficiently cocking the bolt as he put his finger on the trigger. As the bike moved away, he smoothly followed it through his scope.

  One shot only, make it count.

  He exhaled and pulled the trigger.

  ***

  Gunnerson was making good time. He’d also stopped just before dark to consult his map, have some water and put the last of his spare gas in the tank. He was following the 20, it ran parallel with the 90 but was only two lanes and a lot more overgrown and damaged. He’d put his light on and was moving as fast as he dared. About the time Bowman was making his dash away from the road block, Gunnerson crested a hill and looked down on a nice, straight stretch of road. Here the 20 was a dark ribbon lined on either side by thick scrub, and there were no obstacles for as far as the eye could see.

  Gunnerson gave it a little more and began to wonder if he could beat Bowman back to Concord. He sped up as he thought of the look on his mentor’s face when he arrived to find him already enjoying a cold brewsky.

  He didn’t see the deer until it was directly in the beam of his headlight. It was a big buck and appeared from nowhere, walking across the road at a leisurely pace as it headed for the greenery on the other side. He barely had time to touch the brakes before he slammed into the side of the creature.

  He died instantly, his neck breaking as his head crashed into the ribcage of the big animal. They all went down. Man, machine and animal in a concussive end to all three.

  ***

  While luck ran out for Gunnerson, for Bowman, it held up. Just as the unseen sniper pulled his trigger, he veered left to avoid a pothole. He saw the spurt of asphalt and dust spray into the air, barely five feet away and knew he had literally just dodged a bullet.

  Adrenaline shot through his system, and he twisted the throttle sharply, speeding to get out of range as he veered this way and that to throw off the shooters aim.

  He needn’t have bothered, Eshman knew he’d only had one shot, and he’d missed it. He wasn’t too upset. Not about the shot anyway. He’d missed it through bad luck, not poor execution. The rider would disappear around the gentle curve in the road ahead before he could get set for a second shot.

  He was disappointed they lost the rider. If the scout had seen the army leaving Rochester, the Concord people would now have at least a day’s warning. He thought he might just keep that fact secret from William Orton when they passed the checkpoint. No sense tempting fate a second time.

  Besides, forewarned or not, Eshman had no doubt New America would crush Concord if they rejected the president’s offer. He had every intention of tagging along with the infantry when they passed. One never knew when an opportunity might present to set some things right.

  15

  The next day at around 4 in the afternoon, Luke walked down the steps in front of the Tower with Indigo and Isaac in tow. He had a fresh haircut and trimmed beard courtesy of Indigo. He wore a white button up shirt straight out of its cellophane wrapping and a pair of dark pants.

  On orders from Indigo and Diana, Isaac and Ben had sourced the clothes on a mission into the heart of Manchester. They’d found a men’s clothing store on the main street and had climbed through its broken plate glass window. There had been plenty of clothes to choose from, apparently smart/ casual apparel wasn’t high in the wish list for most post-apocalyptic survivors.

  Luke was most proud of the gray snakeskin boots Ben had picked and brought back for him.

  “They don’t really go with the clothes, you know?” Isaac had said while he was getting dressed and holding out the tan dress shoes he’d picked out. “You sure you don’t want these?”

  “Sorry dude, those are just too sensible,” he said, zipping up his ankle high boots. “These though, these kick ass!”

  Luke slipped on the aviator glasses he’d found in a desk when they were moving furniture into the store room the day before.

  “How do I look?” he asked Isaac and Indigo, holding out his arms and doing a twirl on the heel of his boot.

  “Very handsome,” said Indigo. “I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

  “Unless she was really into your shaggy look.”

  “Haha,” said Luke cuffing Isaac playfully over the ear.

  Indigo handed him the picnic basket she’d prepared.

  “It’s just some cold cuts of chicken, some bread, grapes and a bottle of red wine. Hopefully, she likes it.”

  He put the basket in the trunk and then hugged Indigo.

  “Thanks for my makeover and the picnic basket, you really do rock. Well, wish me luck,” he said climbing into the Mustang.

  Of course, he couldn’t resist honking the horn once as he pulled out and thundered down Elm street towards the checkpoint.

  The drive to Concord only took 20 minutes even at a sedate pace. The 93 had been pretty much cleared of all wrecks and debris by Randall’s people, but so he felt no need to speed - he wanted to preserve as much fuel as he could anyway. As Jamal had predicted, the guys that had been stationed in Manchester by Randall did not balk at giving him gas for the Mustang. It had only cost him a few joyrides.

  He was usher
ed through the gates in Concord with no trouble, but the fuel gauge was getting really low. He would need gas sooner rather than later. Running out of fuel while Becky was in the car was not an option.

  He kind of hoped she had already gone home for the day. That way he could ask Randall about filling up his tank in return for anything the colonel wanted to name, and then drive to her house – assuming Randall would give him the address.

  The Mustang drew looks of admiration as he drove it through the neat streets of Concord. Never a shrinking violet, Luke waved and enjoyed the attention he received. Getting out of the car after he pulled up at City Hall though, he felt nerves. The clean clothes he was wearing weren’t as comfortable as his regular jeans and a T-shirt, and the snakeskin boots were about one size too small. He was suddenly worried that Becky would take one look at this new clean-cut Luke and laugh until she cried.

  Nothing for it.

  He took a deep breath and hurried inside. The soldiers and other people he passed greeted him in a friendly manner. He’d become familiar to them, and they were all aware of the fact he and Isaac were in the colonel’s good graces.

  Of course, Becky was still working.

  As he stepped onto the colonel’s floor, he spied her behind the desk and felt a rush of nerves. Her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and she wore no makeup. He thought she looked wonderful. Her head was down, and she was busily writing something as he approached.

  “Hi Becky,” he said simply.

  Becky looked up, slightly annoyed at the interruption and stared blankly at him for a seconds before her eyes widened.

  “Luke? Hi! Wow, I didn’t recognize you.”

  He grinned sheepishly and ran a hand over his newly styled short hair.

  “Yeah, I got attacked by a lawnmower.”

  She laughed.

  “I like it. Did you want to see the colonel?” she said and began to rise from her chair.

  “No,” he said.

  “Oh?” she said and slowly sank back down.

  “I came to see you; I was wondering if you’d like to go for a picnic?”

  “Oh.”

  “I mean, only if you want to,” he stumbled, suddenly sure he’d misjudged the whole situation.

  “No, of course… I’d love to! You just took me by surprise is all. Did you mean today? Like, now?”

  “Yeah,” he said, relieved. “I would have called, but you know, reception is horrible these days.”

  She laughed again and glanced at the clock.

  “Well, I finish work in twenty minutes. Is that okay? And I’ll need to go home and get changed into something more ‘picnic’ appropriate.”

  “Sure, I’ll give you a ride home when you’re done. I wanted to ask the colonel about something anyway, so I can kill some time till then.”

  “Perfect, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  The colonel saw him right away.

  “Of course, my boy! Is this for the Mustang?” said the colonel.

  “You know about that?”

  He patted the walkie talkie on his desk.

  “Oh, of course. Yeah, it’s a bit of an indulgence I guess. I’m happy to work for the tank of gas.”

  “I tell you what; the first one is on me. Drive around, get it out of your system, then maybe only take it out on Sundays. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect! Thanks.”

  “Was that all you came for? I hear things are going well in Manchester?”

  Luke skipped right over the first question.

  “Yeah, things are great. Thanks to your guys, we have power and water to the tower, and the troops have settled in quietly. We barely know they are there. What about here? No news from the forward team?”

  “Nope,” said the colonel, his face turning serious. “No news is good new as far as I’m concerned. If - when - we get the word – we’ll have about a day’s notice to get prepared.”

  “You have no doubt they’ll come east then?”

  The colonel shook his head.

  “No doubt at all. But, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said the colonel, drilling him with an inquisitor’s gaze. “So, you’re not only here for gas, right?”

  “Well, no. I asked Becky out on a date,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “Sorry, what’s that son? You faded out.”

  The small twitch at the corner of the colonel’s lips told Luke he probably heard exactly what he said.

  “I asked Becky out on a date,” he said, loudly.

  “Geez son, no need to shout,” said the colonel, chuckling heartily.

  Luke shook his head, helpless not to laugh too. The old man was seriously enjoying teasing him. Randall looked at his watch.

  “Well, the filling station closes in ten minutes, if you want that tank of gas, you better skedaddle,” he said, standing up. “The filling station is on Main street, an old Mobil. Just tell the men I sent you.”

  “Yes sir, thanks,” said Luke, rising. “Thanks for everything…”

  “My pleasure,” said the colonel, putting his hand under Luke’s elbow and guiding him to the door. He put his hand on the door handle and leaned into Luke’s ear. “She’s a good girl, make sure you look after her. And no rabblerousing in that car, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Colonel Randall nodded, apparently satisfied, and pulled the door open.

  “See you soon, Son.”

  As soon as the door was shut Luke bustled to Becky’s desk.

  “I just have to take care of something; I’ll be back to pick you up, okay? Just wait out front.”

  “Okay,” said Becky, surprised at his eagerness to get out of there.

  ***

  Thirteen minutes later, Luke turned back onto Green street and put his foot on the gas, roaring up the road as fast as he dared. He slowed abruptly when he saw Becky in the distance. She was standing on the sidewalk and shading her eyes.

  He pulled up in front of her, left the motor running and jumped out.

  “I wondered if you were the rev-head!” she laughed, as he rounded the front of the car and opened her door for her.

  “Rev-head? No, that was ‘driving Miss Daisy’ mode. Do you like it?”

  “I do, it’s very you, why thank you, kind sir,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat.

  Luke was grinning ear to ear as he ran around and climbed back in behind the wheel.

  “So, which way to your place?”

  A short time later they pulled up in front of a neat little bungalow with white cladding, a red roof and a well-trimmed lawn.

  “Your place?” he asked.

  “Yes, all mine. Its tiny but perfect for me.”

  It’s really nice. Very you,” he said.

  “Thanks, come in.”

  They got out, and she led him up the path to the front door. It wasn’t locked.

  “No crime?” he asked, as she ushered him into the short hallway.

  “A little bit, and it will probably get worse as we get bigger.” She shrugged. “I figure if someone is desperate enough to steal any of my meagre possessions they probably need them more than me.”

  “That’s very altruistic of you,” he said, pausing as she closed the door.

  “Ooh, nice word.”

  Luke laughed.

  “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for a chance to use it on a pretty girl.”

  They looked at each other awkwardly in the tight space before she squeezed past him.

  “I’m flattered it was me. Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at the breakfast bar as she poured him cold water from the refrigerator.

  “Don’t drink it too fast, I’ll go and get changed.”

  “Okay, small sips only.”

  Luke watched her go, a goofy smile on his lips. The whole afternoon seemed a bit surreal.

  16

  Luke took Becky a little south of Concord for their
picnic, to a nice spot on the Merrimack that he’d spotted months ago when he began his trek to the coast.

  They’d already eaten the chicken, and bread Indigo had packed for them and were now sitting quietly next to each other, eating grapes and working on their second glass of wine each.

  “I’m so full,” said Becky, putting a hand on her stomach. “That was delicious.”

  Luke thought she looked just beautiful. Her long, dark hair fell in soft waves over the shoulder of the white cashmere sweater she was wearing, and her cheeks were a little pink from the alcohol.

  “It was. And so’s the company,” said Luke.

  She giggled and looked at him sidelong.

  “Were you always such a smooth talker?”

  He shrugged.

  “I was always a talker. Not sure about smooth.”

  “Oh, you’re smooth.”

  She shuffled closer and leaned against him. Still fearing rejection, he put his arm around her shoulder tentatively.

  As cocky as he was, Luke didn’t really have much experience with girls. His relationship with Brooke had developed from a solid friendship, and there had been none of the usual dating or courtship angst.

  This was much different. He was nervous and didn’t really know how to proceed.

  “What’s wrong?” Becky asked, turning to look at him. “You’ve gone all quiet.”

  “Nothing, I was just…”

  She leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Stunned, he wasn’t quick enough to respond before she drew away smiling.

  “This is where you kiss me back…”

  She leaned in again. Luke kissed her back this time. They took it slowly. Luke was a gentleman, but Becky also sensed that she shouldn’t push things too quickly. They spent some more time talking and laughing as they finished the grapes.

  When the sun was low on the horizon, Luke said, “Well, I better get you home. I don’t want the colonel coming after me with a six shooter.”

  She giggled.