by Akart, Bobby
The two of them had just reached the corner of the perimeter fence when they saw two people in all-white clothing dash down an open space between two tents. They were only visible for a moment, and then they disappeared among the rows of tents.
A few seconds later, an armed guard walked in the same direction from where the white-clad people had just emerged. He didn’t seem to be searching, but his weapon was held at low ready and his head was on a swivel.
“He is on alert,” said Isabella. “However, there is no sense of urgency.”
“You’re right. Something is going on, however. Were those hospital patients? Why were they dressed in all white?”
Isabella shook her head from side to side and pointed toward the far side of the compound, suggesting that Chapman should continue. They worked their way along the fence until Chapman made a discovery—Levi’s torn and bloody shirt.
“Shit!” he whispered loudly. “This is Levi’s. He may have escaped already.”
“He was not on the trail,” said Isabella as she inspected the camouflage material.
“He might be lost,” thought Chapman. “Or hurt.”
“We must not tell Carly of this,” suggested Isabella. “She is upset, and honestly, I am concerned about her ability to perform.”
Chapman sighed. “Me too. There was no way to leave her behind, and she can be a huge asset. We have to hope she gets the job done when the time comes.”
They both studied the top of the fence, where more strips of material hung, before moving farther along the security fence. The far side of the compound was much like the side where they had discovered Levi’s shirt—an overgrown thicket amongst the trees that was virtually impassable.
Having seen enough, Chapman and Isabella returned to the fallen tree where the others were waiting. They took a moment to catch their breath and swig some water out of the plastic squeeze bottles.
While they did, Kristi and Tommy relayed what they had learned.
“Okay, the two guys manning the gate looked like the ones Carly described,” began Tommy. “I can’t imagine that they’ve pulled an all-nighter like this, but it’s possible. Anyway, they look pretty tired and are certainly not eyeing their surroundings in any way.”
“Good,” said Chapman. “That means they’re not expecting us. You saw the razor wire, right?”
“Yeah, standard stuff in jails and around inner-city warehouses,” replied Tommy. He reached into his backpack to retrieve the bolt cutters. “That’s why I brought these, just in case.”
“Smart thinkin’,” said Carly. “So after we shoot the guards, then what?”
“Well, for one thing, all hell’s gonna break loose,” began Chapman. “Except for the generator, it’s quiet as all get out here. Those gunshots are gonna sound like cannon fire.”
“We want to get their attention,” Kristi added. “They don’t think anyone would have the balls to attack a federal facility. After all, this is supposed to be FEMA related, right?”
“Yeah,” replied Carly. “That changed at some point.”
“Okay, let me mention something else,” said Chapman. “We saw two people running from tent to tent dressed in all white. They looked like hospital uniforms or something patients might wear, except not smocks. More like pants and a shirt.”
“Scrubs?” said Tommy inquisitively as he glanced at Kristi.
She weighed in. “It’s possible, but this doesn’t strike me as a hospital.”
“Well, keep that in mind as we set things in motion. The good guys are wearing all white.”
“Like in the old western movies,” quipped Isabella.
Carly got off the fallen tree trunk and brushed off her backside. She checked her rifle and rolled her neck on her shoulders. She was getting her game face on. “We need to get this done and free my husband before daylight comes.”
“Agreed,” said Chapman. “Tommy, after they take out the gate guards, Isabella and I are gonna shoot out the lights on each of the corners on the other side of the compound. That’s gonna leave a dark void, which would be a logical route to escape.”
Tommy nodded. “The other guards’ first inclination will be to cover the front gate. When the lights go out, they’ll flock to the far side of the compound.”
“Exactly. That’s when we open up this side. Kristi, after you hit your guy, make your way through the woods until you can be in a position to shoot out the set of lights we can see on our right.” Chapman pointed across the field to confirm the target.
“What about the other side?”
“Isabella and I will regroup and move along the perimeter until we’re in position. Wait for me to shoot them out, and then you hit the final switch. That will leave the compound in the dark and the guards chasing their tails.”
Tommy offered to handle the riskiest duties of the entire operation. “While that’s going on, I’ll cut as many holes in the fence as I can. A little cover fire would be nice.”
“We’ll be there for you. We’ll take up a position near the fence and cover you.”
“What about Levi? How will he know what to do?”
Chapman took a deep breath before answering. He wasn’t sure Levi was even inside the camp, much less alive. He couldn’t let his concern show as he responded, “Levi has an instinct none of us have. There’s no doubt he’ll find an opening of some kind.”
Chapter 37
Pinnacle Overlook
Cumberland Gap
Southeast Kentucky
Thousands of children pioneers crossed America in the middle of the nineteenth century, accompanying their parents on a mass migration to the West. It was a grueling journey fraught with danger, but children of all ages grew up fast as they faced one challenge after another.
Their roles within the groups of wagon trains, sometimes numbering sixty or more, were varied. Most walked during the day, helping the horse-drawn wagons avoid hitting ruts or other obstacles. Some carried rifles, keeping constant vigil for threats, both from animals and man.
During a day or two of rest, all of the children were assigned chores ranging from gathering food through hunting and fishing to regular camp chores like cooking, washing clothes, and repairing wagons.
It was a little-known fact that more often than not children pioneers outnumbered the adults during the wagon trains that settled the Western United States. They grew up learning a gritty toughness about life. Kids came to expect the unexpected and accept loss of life in their families.
Jesse and Rachel had not experienced the loss of a close loved one until their grandfather died. They still hadn’t quite come to grips with his sudden illness and why the doctors couldn’t help him. Frankly, many members of the Boone family suffered from the same state of confusion.
Nonetheless, like the pioneer children of old, they were growing accustomed to their new way of living. They understood that their favorite pastime, playing video games, was likely gone forever. Attending schools and going on elaborate field trips to see the New York Central Railroad Museum in Elkhart or the WonderLab in Bloomington were things of the past.
With each passing day, they began to contribute more to the daily chores, even at their young age. During the early morning hours when their mother led a group to rescue their father, Jesse stepped up and became a man.
He and his sister were asleep inside the Scooby van when they were awakened by Brooke raising a ruckus somewhere in the woods. Jesse immediately jumped into the overturned van and grabbed his rifle. He convinced his sister to remain in her sleeping bag and keep completely quiet.
He eased out the back doors of the van and gently closed them behind him.
“Grandma!” he said in a hushed voice, with no response.
Brooke continued to chatter, emitting loud hoots and hollers. Jesse couldn’t make out where she was initially until he heard a gunshot.
“Jesse!” shouted Rachel from inside the van.
“Be quiet,” he admonished. “Stay here.”
Another gunshot rang out, which agitated the horses. They began to stomp around, some beginning to vocalize their fright.
Jesse worked the lever handle on his Henry Arms .22-caliber rifle. The classic Western-style gun had been given to him by Levi a couple of years ago when Jesse learned to shoot. He’d become adept at hitting targets, but he’d never shot at any living being. Until now.
The rifle was perfectly suited for a young boy to learn on. It had an overall length of three feet but only weighed about five pounds. Jesse was comfortable using it, especially since the power grid had gone down. He’d spent most of his days guarding the Boones’ home at Riverfront Farms before they set out for the Cumberland Gap.
The sound of a bear’s deep growl struck a strange fear in Jesse’s gut. He ran without hesitation toward the location in the dark surroundings where Brooke was continuing to raise the devil.
“Grandma! Where are you?”
“Stay back, Jesse!” she replied.
The bear’s guttural snarl grew louder as Jesse crossed the parking lot and headed down the overlook’s road toward Tommy’s Mustang. He could make out a shadow in the middle of the road—his grandmother—and just beyond her an object lumbering up the hill.
“Here I am!” he announced proudly, startling Sarah. She abruptly turned toward Jesse to warn him off, which was when the black bear charged toward her.
“Nooo!” she shouted, trying to protect young Jesse and hoping her scream would frighten the threat.
However, the bear continued.
Jesse heard the clicking sound of Sarah’s jammed rifle, immediately realizing why she wasn’t shooting at the threat. He paused, raised his rifle, and took aim on the approaching beast.
Pow!
The report of the .22-caliber rifle wasn’t as loud as the adults’ guns, but in the deathly quiet of the woods, it was sufficient to distract the bear from its intentions of mauling Sarah.
The bear shifted its weight and began to move its oversized paws in Jesse’s direction. Jesse ignored his fear and stared down the threat. He chambered another round using the exceptionally smooth lever action of the rifle. He fired again, striking the bear in the snout.
The animal let out a mighty roar, angrily shouting at the pain that seared through its head. However, the .22-caliber bullet was not enough to kill it. Jesse had learned from his dad that certain large wild animals like bears take a high-caliber round, such as a .44 Magnum or the .308, to be killed. He also had learned that being wounded could cause the animals to become angrier, almost borderline insane, resulting in them charging the shooter.
“Run, Grandma! Run behind me!”
“Jesse, what’s going on?” Rachel’s frightened voice could be heard from the top of the hill.
“Dang it, Rachel, I said—!” Jesse stopped yelling and shot the bear in the head again.
Sarah hesitated, and then she raced up the hill to protect Rachel.
Then Brooke joined the fracas. She chattered continuously. “Heeeaaagh, heeeaaagh, heeeaaagh. Woot-woot! Oo-oo-oo-oo. Heeeaaagh!”
Brooke swung from a tree limb, and like a WWE wrestler jumping off the rope in the ring, she landed hard with both feet on the back of the bear.
It turned and swung its massive paws at Brooke, but missed. Jesse took advantage of the distraction. He bravely took several paces forward, keeping his aim on the broad side of the bear just behind its front leg.
He quickly fired two more rounds of .22LR bullets, plugging the bear twice in one of its most vulnerable parts of the body.
“EE-EEEE-EE! HOOT! EE-EEEEE!”
Brooke was thrilled at the result.
The bear began to wobble on its feet. It no longer cared about charging Jesse or the pesky Brooke. Now it just wanted to escape the onslaught.
Jesse couldn’t let it live to fight another day, but he also knew he’d have to get lucky to kill the animal with only a .22. He’d counted his rounds and knew he had eleven more bullets. His only chance was to make perfectly placed shots into the cavities of the bear’s face—eyes, ears, snout—hoping the bullet would bounce around in the animal’s thick skull and find the brain.
He fired again and again.
His grandmother pled for him to give it up and return to safety, but he ignored her. He ran down the hill toward Tommy’s car, circling around the backside of the bear in the process. He took up a position on the downside of the Mustang and worked the lever action on his rifle again.
He leaned against the fender and steadied his aim.
Pow!
This shot hit the bear in the face again. The bear kept coming, wobbling like an old drunk who was close to toppling into a gutter. Jesse fired again, causing the bear to groan in agony.
Another bullet was fired when the bear was barely fifteen feet away, and then it crashed into the fender of the car. The Mustang was shoved downhill a foot, causing Jesse to stumble and fall backwards.
His rifle fell from his hands and slid down the asphalt road into the dark. He felt around for his gun, hopelessly unable to locate it. The world around him became completely silent except for the sound of his heart beating out of his chest.
He was frozen, almost in shock, as he lay flat on his belly next to the car. He strained to listen, trying to determine his adversary’s next move, weighing his options for when the bear rounded the front of the car to kill him.
Then he felt it. His pants became soaked with warm fluid. He couldn’t recall peeing on himself, but he supposed he could’ve. He reached down for his crotch and was surprised to find it dry.
He stared under the car, trying to squint his eyes to get a look at the bear. Jesse reached for his knees and shins where he found the warm, sticky substance. He flattened his hand and slapped the road with his palm. The blood of the bear splattered all over his face.
Jesse laughed. It was a nervous-sense-of-relief kind of laugh at first. He thought it was over, but he wasn’t quite sure. As only a child might do, he opened the driver’s door and crawled inside, immediately locking it behind him as if the bear were gonna suddenly push the door handle’s button and drag him into the road. He slowly made his way over to the passenger side and peered over the door to look through the window.
Just below him, lying in a heap on the black asphalt, was the bear.
Still not sure it was dead, Jesse slowly opened the passenger door and rammed it repeatedly into the bear’s side, looking for any kind of reaction.
Nothing.
Ecstatic, he rolled down the window and started shouting.
“I did it, Grandma! I did it! He’s dead!”
Chapter 38
FEMA Camp S-53
Near Martin’s Fork Lake in the Cumberland Mountains
Three Point, Kentucky
Like father, like son. Levi was fearless, and his son, Jesse, was growing up that way. Both of them had a love of family and were willing to risk their lives to survive. With the help of Mayor Rogers, the undisputed leader of the resistance within FEMA camp S-53, Levi rallied her trusted fellow prisoners with a solid plan that offered a huge reward to them if successful.
His stated goal from the beginning of his captivity was to escape and return to Carly and the kids. However, after meeting the people being mistreated and held against their will by these local profiteers, Levi now had an additional purpose—provide them their freedom and a chance to survive this catastrophe brought about by the pole shift.
In order to succeed, they would have to join in the effort and risk their safety in the process. Levi expected Carly to bring the cavalry, and most likely they’d create some kind of diversion to attract the attention of the guards. So far, either due to their laziness or because his trickery worked, the search for him had come to an end.
Only on one occasion did a guard enter their tent and shine a flashlight around the inside. Levi curled up in a ball toward the back and pretended to be sleeping. He stuck his feet under a bunk containing a mother with her one-year-old daughter. After a curs
ory inspection in which the guard was most likely looking for a half-dressed man of Levi’s description, he left and never returned.
As the search subsided, Squatch and other like-minded thinkers within the FEMA camp got to work spreading the word. Excitement was building as Levi was escorted out of Mayor Rogers’s tent and back to the location where he originally hid.
He was told by his new friends that the constant rainfall had created soft spots of dirt near the back fence not that far from where he’d pretended to climb over. If the opportunity arose, he could dig his way out with their assistance. However, he had to promise to bring his family back to free them later.
As Squatch rallied his troops, Levi was overcome with a sense of guilt. These people were willing to risk their lives to protect his opportunity to escape. Simply providing them a promise to return wasn’t good enough. They needed to be freed.
After a conversation with the young woman identified as Fairy, Levi left the secure confines of the tent and followed her toward the front of the compound to be closest to the guards’ sleeping quarters consisting of two single-wide trailers that had rested on the property for decades.
It was Levi and Fairy whom Chapman and Isabella had observed scampering between the tents during their surveillance. Had they known, they could’ve called to him and arranged for his escape.
Fairy positioned Levi in the tent closest to the guards’ buildings. His plan was simple. Once his family got the ball rolling, whatever that looked like, he’d try to pick off a guard or two as they emerged from their sleep. Based on the numbers he’d been provided, two kills would be close to twenty percent of their security team. Plus, with success, he’d then have a weapon.
Levi hovered inside the tent next to the entrance. He paced the ground, moving back and forth like a heavyweight boxer waiting for the bell to ring for round one. Every once in a while, he’d sneak a peek through the vented tent door, searching the main gate and the compound for activity. It was still except for the occasional cigarette break by the two guards stationed at the front. He was pleased to see they were the same ones who had been present when he was brought into the camp. They’d be tired and lethargic.