Left in the Cold (The Left Series)

by Christian Fletcher

  “Have any of you guys seen Smith or McElroy tonight?” I asked.

  A couple of guys shook their heads and another spawned a blank expression. The Scottish guy who’d spoken thought for a moment.

  “Come to think of it, pal, I did see them take a wander out earlier,” he said. He shook his head. “It must have been a good few hours ago though. I don’t know if they’re back yet, we’ve rotated the watch since then. We’re doing three hours turnaround on watch and patrols around the grounds every fifteen minutes or so.”

  The guy seemed to be explaining their movements as if I was checking up on them. I really didn’t give a rat’s ass how they maneuvered as long as they kept their eyes and ears open and protected the rest of the survivors and kept the whole area safe.

  “Did they take a vehicle?” I asked.

  The Scottish guy nodded. “Aye, they took that old camper van thing. Looks like a right bag o’ shite if you ask me.” He laughed slightly and then added an afterthought. “Anderson went with them as well.”

  I nodded. “Okay, thanks. Which direction did they go?”

  The Scottish guy pointed to the main road outside the motel and to the right. “They went that way,” he said. “And they didn’t seem to be hanging about none either.”

  “Right, okay, thanks for the info,” I said, inwardly sighing and feeling pretty bad with myself. I gulped hard. They’d gone ahead on the mission without me. What the hell was I going to do?

  I walked away from the motel doors, away from the gathered huddle of sentries and out into the night. I stopped in the center of the parking lot, smoking and thinking and silently cussing myself. Guilt coursed through me. After all Smith and I had been through together, I figured I’d badly let him down this time.

  I crushed the cigarette out below the sole of my acquired sneakers. The night air felt hot and sticky, causing a light bead of sweat to form on my upper lip. Something shrieked out in the night from some dark place far away in the distance. Whatever it was didn’t sound human. Maybe no one really was human anymore, not even the remaining survivors. Perhaps humanity as it had previously evolved was gone forever. The human race had been forced to regress in its development. Maybe in thirty years’ time humans would be running about the planet without the comforts they used to enjoy and products to make their lives easier. Perhaps we’d be no higher than animals in the evolution chain.

  Dim orange light shone from the motel lobby across the parking lot and my mind broke away from my Darwin-esque philosophizing. The light glimmered over a small, dust covered free standing moped leaning against an overgrown flower tub. I knew I could use that vehicle to get across the desert. I could join Smith and McElroy or at least get near to where they were heading.

  One important question burned in my mind. Could I get the bastard thing started?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  I hurried towards the motor scooter and brushed off some of the dust. The white paint looked a little flaky but the tires looked okay. The key was still in the ignition on top of the headset. I turned the key and pressed the electric start button. Nothing happened. The system didn’t even whine in protest. I wheeled the moped away from the plant tub into the center of the parking lot then pulled out the kick start and pumped it a few times. The engine spluttered but didn’t fire up.

  “Shit,” I growled. My plan was going astray before it had even started.

  Maybe the gas was bad or the damn machine was totally fucked. I almost let it fall on its side in a heap on the gravel surface of the parking lot but somebody called out from the lobby entranceway, stopping me trashing the scooter in my frustration.

  “You want to try and get that thing going, eh, pal?” the voice called.

  I turned my head and saw the stout Scottish guy approaching from the motel entrance.

  I nodded. “I’m supposed to be someplace and this would have been a way of getting there.”

  The Scottish guy ducked his head. “Aye, we all should be someplace else,” he mused. “We’ll have a wee look. I used to be a bike mechanic when everything was normal.” He took the scooter handle bars from me and tipped the thing back on its stand before crouching down for a closer inspection. He stood, still steadying the scooter by the handle bars. “Let’s bring it a bit closer to the lobby. We’ll have a wee bit more light over there.”

  “Okay,” I muttered.

  I followed the guy as he wheeled the moped towards the motel entranceway. The creature howled again in the distance behind us. I turned instinctively towards the source of the noise but of course, I couldn’t see shit beyond the parking lot. I swung back around and glanced over the motor scooter the guy wheeled along in front of me. I remembered the last time I’d ridden one. Smith and I had been riding two up on a machine we’d found in a barn in Louisiana, somewhere near New Orleans. I stifled a laugh. The outcome of our little ride hadn’t been good. We’d ended up riding the damn thing into a river when we’d been chased by hordes of undead. Oh, how memories of past events seemed funnier after the passage of time.

  The Scottish guy flung down the motor scooter stand and propped it in front of the motel lobby. The other guys on watch looked on with bemused expressions.

  “What the fuck are you going to do with that crate, Frankie?” one guy asked.

  “Were going to get the wee piece of shit going,” the Scottish guy replied. “It’ll give us something to do while we’re out here.” He nodded at me. “Yer man needs it running. He’s on a suicide mission just like those other bampots who drove out into the desert earlier.”

  I shrugged, not sure if the guy was having a dig at me for his own amusement.

  “Go get me that toolbox we found earlier, will you, Willie,” Frankie said to one of the other guys on watch. He crouched down beside the scooter again and removed one of the side panels.

  The guy called Willie scurried into the lobby while Frankie tinkered around with the scooter engine, shoving his fingers through a cluster of electrical wires. I started to reconsider my plans when Frankie grimaced and swore under his breath. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea riding the scooter out into the desert in the darkness.

  Willie returned from the lobby. He carried a large metal box and set it down beside Frankie. Frankie opened the box and rummaged around the tools inside.

  “Give us some light over here, somebody,” Frankie muttered.

  One of the other guys turned on a flashlight and shone the beam over the engine compartment. Frankie went to work, undoing bits and pieces in the engine, muttering to himself as he did so.

  I grew increasingly impatient and was contemplating calling the whole thing off when Frankie stood and tried the scooter’s kick start. The engine roared into life but sounded a little ropey. Frankie tinkered with the engine again until he was satisfied. He turned on the scooter’s lights that shone dimly at the front and back.

  “The fuel isn’t great and there’s a problem with the carburetor but the thing is running and that’s as good as it’s going to get at this time,” Frankie said. “I’ve got no spare parts and it’s difficult to see. I’ve done all I can.”

  “Thanks a lot, Frankie,” I said. “You’re a wizard with the mechanics.”

  Frankie huffed. “I don’t know about that, man,” he said. “Just make sure you go careful out there, pal.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  “You got about half a tank of gas so be aware it won’t last forever,” Frankie added.

  “It’ll be enough for what I need,” I said, mounting the scooter and pushing up the stand.

  I adjusted my position on the seat so I was reasonably comfortable and the rifle was slung across the center of my back. The guys on watch over the motel lobby nodded at me while I turned the scooter around to face the open roadway. I twisted the throttle grip and the engine whined, propelling me forward at an increasing speed.

  The air felt cooler and the night breeze blew in my face as I rode along the highway. It was hardly Peter Fonda or Dennis
Hopper riding a Harley Davidson in the movie Easy Rider but at least I was heading in the right direction. I hoped I’d catch up with Smith and McElroy further down the road.

  Swirling grit became a problem the further I rode into the desert. I blinked my eyes against the gusting sand and the irritation caused tears to stream down my cheeks. I had to stop the scooter several times to wipe my eyes before continuing on with the slow journey.

  I rode by the Ghost Town. Moonlight faintly shone across the scattered buildings looming up out of the darkness like giant tomb stones, cold and uninviting. I noticed a few human shapes shuffling around a few yards from the road and I didn’t slow down. The figures stopped moving and turned when the noise of the scooter engine registered in what remained of their senses. Some only watched me pass by, others screamed in hoarse tones. The desert was littered with walking corpses, probably the remnants of the crowd roaming as one earlier in the day.

  I carried on along the winding road, hoping none of the ghouls meandering around would block my path. The scooter wasn’t exactly a fast mode of transportation but the small wheels wouldn’t grip very well on the gritty surface if I had to swerve suddenly. I’d end up sliding along on my ass through the sand with the scooter trashed and no form of transport if I came off the damn thing.

  A wild dog or fox stopped while crossing the road ahead of me. It turned and its eyes reflected a glowing yellow in my headlamp beam. The animal quickly scurried across the road and disappeared into the darkness.

  I glanced further ahead and saw the shimmering, orange lights of burning fires in the distance. I knew I was getting close to my destination. Lajitas was only a few miles ahead on the road.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I knew noise carried a long way out in the open plains. I’d have to ditch the scooter and stash it someplace safe before the neo Nazis sent out a search party if they were alerted the sound of the whining engine.

  I slowed the scooter to a crawl when I was around a mile away from Lajitas. I spotted a ditch running parallel to the right side of the road. Tall scrub plants and desert weeds grew at the side of the ditch and partially covered the trench. I stopped the scooter and turned off the engine but kept the lights on. The desert sounds of gusting winds and cawing wild animals seemed eerie in the night.

  I wheeled the scooter into the ditch, turned off the lights and covered it as best I could with the overhanging plants. I crawled out of the ditch and stood in the road, gazing at the dim, glowing light of the town in the distance.

  “What the hell am I doing?” I muttered to myself.

  Doubt and uncertainty flooded my mind. I didn’t even know which angle Smith and McElroy would be making their move from. Sighing deeply, I turned back and looked into the dark landscape behind me. I’d come this far, even if I just observed the town, I might be able to scope out a way of getting in without being detected. I decided to plod on with the journey.

  I had no choice but to keep on the road for the time being. I’d soon be lost or risk walking into a crater or a pile of rocks if I strayed from the solid and fairly flat thoroughfare. I heard creatures scrabbling about in the darkness on either side of the roadside and hoped none of them would pounce on me as I walked silently along the road. The lights of Lajitas glowed brighter the closer I got. Bright orange flames flickered up into the dark sky and I heard the hum of machinery from somewhere in the town.

  My heart beat quicker and my breathing increased. The adrenalin kicked in. I knew it was nearly time to go into battle mode and I had to keep my wits razor sharp.

  They’d probably be a twenty-four hour lookout watch on the roads into the town and they would possibly have night vision capabilities. It was time to get off the road and try and sneak into town somehow.

  Smith and McElroy would have all the tools available to them to carry out their rescue mission and I hoped they’d be able to get in and out of the town without any trouble. With any luck, they’d already be making their way out of there with Wingate safely with them without the big Texan guy or any of his entourage knowing.

  I hurried off the left side of the road, keeping in a hunched stance as I moved across the uneven and dusty terrain. The scrub plants and loose rocks hampered my progress and I was forced to slow my pace to a slow slink. I tried to keep my head and torso as low to the ground as possible and moved left and right so I’d be harder to track if I was spotted.

  Dark silhouettes of one and two storey buildings loomed up as I drew closer to the town. The structures were slightly illuminated by the fires burning in the distance and I caught a smell of the wood smoke drifting through the air. I briefly wondered if Smith had started a fire as a diversion then quickly dispelled that theory. There were no signs or sounds of panic or alarm around the town. The fires were obviously just the occupiers keeping them going for warmth or possibly for cooking over. I couldn’t imagine what kind of camp the tall Texan guy kept. Perhaps they were busy lynching people or burning them to death if they dared to disagree with their outdated and outrageous beliefs.

  I moved slowly as the ground dipped into a rocky basin. I kept my feet and kept moving, glancing at the roadway to my right. I’d strayed around one hundred yards from the road surface and could still make out the wooden telegraph poles lining the side of the blacktop, like old trees, stripped of their branches and died long ago.

  I turned back and made my way through the waist high weeds covering the ground around the basin. My view of the buildings up ahead seemed as though as I was looking through a series of crisscrosses and realized a high meshed fence stood a few yards in front of me. The fence ran horizontally across my path and as far as I could see in the darkness. I assumed the whole town was partitioned off inside the boundary.

  “Shit!” I hissed. How did I ever think I was just going to creep into town? Of course a well armed militia like these neo Nazi guys wouldn’t simply leave their entire base unprotected. I was incredibly dumb to have even contemplated that scenario.

  I stopped close to the fence, reached out and felt the wire mesh. The whole structure seemed solid and well maintained. The crisscrossing wire was thick and firmly entwined. I didn’t have any tools to cut the wire strands and climbing up wasn’t an option as the top of the fence curled over into an overhanging, outward arc.

  I groaned and sighed at the same time then spat grit away from my lips. There was no easy way into the town and I had to quickly think of a solution. I didn’t have to wait long before the circumstances changed dramatically.

  A loud booming sound echoed from beyond the buildings on the other side of the fence and the ground beneath my feet shook a little. An orange flash of light briefly erupted, momentarily illuminating the night sky. Debris rained down on the ground surrounding me.

  “What the fuck…?” I muttered.

  Voices yelled and screamed from somewhere in the distance. The town was erupting into chaos and I knew I had to use that fact to my advantage.

  “Move the fuel trucks away from the fire,” somebody yelled from inside the compound.

  I twisted to my right, still gripping the wire mesh fence and squinted into the distance, trying to gauge how far away the road was from my position. A bright light blinked on from the opposite side of the fence and illuminated the road around one hundred yards away. Swirls of smoke and dust were caught in the light beam. Several shuffling bodies plodded around in front of a high metal gateway blocking the route into town. The light shone over each of the figures for a brief second then instantly cut off. It seemed as though whoever was inside the fence line was searching for somebody or something.

  More excited yells and screams from beyond the buildings snapped my attention back to what was happening somewhere in front of me. I instinctively flinched when another explosion erupted from the town, sending a red fireball twisting into the sky. The acrid stench of burning gasoline and rubber wafted over me and more debris scattered over the building roofs and the near ground around me. Vehicles lights flashed on and
the whine of engines and spinning wheels roared above the din of raised human voices.

  I couldn’t get beyond the fence and into the town to assist in the assault and even if I’d been able to. I knew I was too late to be of any use. I decided the best thing I could do was beat a hasty retreat and get the hell out of the place. I’d have to make my peace with Smith and McElroy later and hope they managed to successfully pull off their audacious plan.

  I turned at the sound of a roaring vehicle engine and saw the boxy shape of an RV plowing over the rough ground around the side of the rocky basin. The vehicle had no lights on and plumes of sand spewed in its wake. The RV slewed in the sand, turned sharply and headed out into the desert and away from the town at a fast speed.

  I felt ninety-nine percent sure that the vehicle was the one we’d used earlier. The one Smith and McElroy had used to try and rescue Wingate.

  “Shit,” I grunted. Now I was left at the edge of a hostile town all alone with no transport and a horde of pissed off neo Nazis about to come swarming out of the gates.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The RV disappeared from my view, swallowed up into the night and heading away in the distance but noise and chaos still wailed from the town behind me. The light beyond the gates flicked on once again and shone up and down the roadway. Several gun shots rang out and the figures milling around outside the gates immediately dropped to the ground. More shouts and yells and the sounds of revving engines from the town boomed through the night air. The gates metallically rattled and opened outwards. Vehicle headlamps cut through the darkness and shone down the roadway.

  I watched several vehicles of various sizes roll through the gateway from the town and head out onto the dusty road. A dozen or so figures on foot hopped around by the gates, each of them waving around firearms and weapons of some kind. I instinctively ducked down a little lower. I’d be torn apart by gunfire if I was spotted and I knew I couldn’t stay put much longer. I’d have to make a break for it sooner rather than later.