The Lasting Hunger

by Dennis Larsen

  Keep it together, she told herself, as she made rounds to check on The Normals. Like any mother hen would do, Allison hurried from one place to the next, assuring the kids and checking on their wellbeing. The youth were armed, strategically positioned on the first and second floors of Old Main, and extremely nervous. The majority of them had never seen battle, even though they had been trained in survival from the time they could walk. Handling a weapon came second nature to them, but the test of aiming at, and then killing another human being, was still to be tried.

  For years, a division had been prevalent among Ward members; some believing The Normals were excessively coddled, while others held to a belief that they were the eugenics for the earth’s future, and therefore had to be protected…at all costs. The former would have seen the youngsters baptized by fire and blood, as early as 12 years, but the more conservative notion had prevailed and most Normals had yet to take a life. That was certainly not the case for Jeff and Dude, who had witnessed enough senseless carnage in a few hours to last them a lifetime.

  At the end of the second floor’s southern exposure, Allison pivoted into an old records room to find Lena trying to teach Brandi how to load a 9mm pistol. For a moment, Allison was stunned by the discovery but soon remembered the circumstances from which they’d come.

  “How’s she doing?” Allison asked, making an effort to sound less frustrated than she felt.

  “Not too bad. Williams never allowed us to handle any of the guns, so it’s no wonder we’re struggling,” Lena replied, angrily.

  “Don’t worry, it’s…”

  “I’m sick of people telling me not to worry. It’s easy for you to say…your husband’s still alive. You have someone to take care of your son…and what do we have? We escaped to find a better life, and what did we find? What do we have now?” she cried, while still desperately trying to slide the pistol’s action open.

  Suddenly, Brandi’s small hands encased her mothers, suspending and calming Lena’s frantic tussle with the weapon. The young woman cleared her throat, ignoring the trickle of tears that were slowly rolling down her face, and spoke in a whisper to her mother. “We have our freedom…and that’s…that’s what dad gave us. It’s the last thing he gave us.”

  Lena let the gun drop to her lap and pulled her daughter close. Allison stood by, watching and fighting back emotions of her own. Ben’s group had travelled far, endured much, and yearned for safety…security, but thus far they had only been rewarded with heartache and fear.

  Allison finally piped up and offered a heartfelt, “I’m sorry. You’re right…we’ve only been trying to help.”

  “I know…I know…and you’re both right. Ben would have given everything to be free…and he did. I just can’t…” The thought gripped at Lena’s heart, strangling her greatest fear.

  “There is nothing worse than losing someone you love; a spouse, a friend, or even a child – believe me – I know, but Lena, today’s the day we prove ourselves. Today we show our gratitude to those who have fallen on our behalf. God only knows what we’re made of, but it’s the lion and not the lamb that conquers these barbaric thugs. You have to know they are here to kill us…to kill us all. If it comes down to kill or be killed, regardless of what happened yesterday…or a week ago, you better be ready to fire that gun, and keep on firing it until you, Brandi, and the rest of us are the last ones standing,”

  “I…I just…” Lena began, the tears still flowing.

  “I get the tears…I’ve cried a million and if I live past today, I’ll cry a million more, but right now they’re wasting your time and mine, and they’re going to get you both killed,” Allison said sternly. “Give me that pistol and I’ll show you how to use it.”

  The change in Allison’s tone caught both Lena and Brandi by surprise, helping them see the gravity of their situation. A few minutes later, their confidence was bolstered and the tears were set aside. Neither knew if they were capable of hitting anything, but with gun in hand, they were prepared to make some noise and not go down without a fight.

  Exiting from the room, Allison quickly hollered, “Stay focused,” and hurried away. One flight down, she ran headlong into Christine who had just burst through the main doors and was looking for Clark.

  Allison wrapped her in an embrace and expressed her deepest condolences for the loss of her father. Christine was grateful, but she’d had several hours to process the loss and in the overall scheme of things she was thankful he’d gone as he had.

  “It would have destroyed him to see today. I’m glad the Lord took him when he did. He was ready,” Christine said, her voice thick with sorrow.

  “Well, you’re certainly putting on a brave face. We’re going to miss your dad and his remarkable spirit.”

  “Thanks, Allison. He loved you all so much.”

  “You’re looking for Clark?” Allison asked, changing the subject before she was swallowed up in a bottomless well of despair.

  “Yeah…is it true?” she prodded, becoming further overcome with emotion.

  “What Christine…is what true?”

  “Haven’t you heard?”

  “No. What’s happened? Don’t tell me Cory…”

  “No…no…it’s Clayton. Clayton’s been killed.”

  Allison suddenly felt faint and reached out to Christine for support. “It can’t be. Are you sure? Have you seen Cory?”

  “No, but the word from the post is Clayton’s dead,” Christine confirmed.

  The women embraced, their grief spilling over as a testament of the love they shared for their dear friend. They held each other tightly until the sobs slowed and they could once again speak.

  “Here I’ve just lectured Lena on staying strong…and I’m a mess. Let’s find Clark and see what he knows.”

  Together, they ran from room-to-room, finally finding Clark on the top floor, overlooking the campus from the bell tower. The news of Clayton’s death took him, as it had Allison, piercing his heart with inconsolable sadness.

  “It never gets any easier, does it?” he stammered.

  “Sadly…no,” Allison wept.

  “But he’s only the first of what could be dozens today. I’m waiting for Holly to get back from the barricade with news, but Scotty and Niel have called for help across town…and we’ve no one to send them. I’ve sent those poor boys off to their deaths…and who knows how many more.”

  Christine laid an assuring hand on Clark’s shoulder and spoke as if she were channeling her father. “Have faith, God’s plan will see us through and will deliver the Harvester scum into our hands.”

  “Thanks Christine, but I don’t recognize the quote,” Clark replied.

  “That’s because it’s from Cory, chapter 1 verse 1.”

  For a second the idea brought a faint grin to Clark’s lips, but it didn’t last long. “I guess you haven’t seen him?” Clark asked Christine.

  “Nope, not since yesterday. I’m dying to find him, but he’ll be pissed if I show up uninvited.”

  “Okay then, Allison continue helping with The Normals. I’m not sure what Rod’s up to, but the quiet has me worried. Christine, track down Whitcomb. He should be at the hospital. I don’t know how many of those grenades he’s manufactured but we need ’em all. I’m sure Rod doesn’t have any and could use them, as well; bring a handful to our position here. Hustle over there, find them, and start getting them distributed.”

  “You bet,” Christine replied, hugging them both before she headed down the steps.

  “I can’t imagine what Cory’s feeling,” Allison offered, when she was certain Christine was beyond earshot.

  “I’m sure he feels like he’s been ripped in two.”

  “Yes, there’s no doubt of that,” Allison agreed.

  “But he’s a warrior.”

  “Yeah, a tenderhearted warrior who’s going to be lost without Clayton.”

  “Well, unless we’re vigilant, we’re going to have more ‘Claytons’ than we can count. Allison, I
don’t have to tell you how important it is to safeguard The Normals. If we’re gonna fall, you’ll have to follow through and get them to safety. We can’t let them be taken by Harvesters. We just can’t allow it. Do you understand?”

  Allison lowered her head and considered the directions she’d just been given. Looking back into Clark’s steely-blue eyes, she nodded and replied, “Yes, you can count on me. Nobody’s taking these kids alive.”

  Chapter 48

  Running from a fight was something Niel had never done. The defenders had obviously been outmatched and outnumbered – his still unconscious brother lay in the back, a reminder of the peril they faced. Racing to make one of two very important stops, the elder Michelson replayed what had happened through his mind. The image of the last remaining mine, doing little to disable the armored vehicle, was unsettling to say the least.

  He considered their options and imagined what was happening just a few miles away on campus. Derek and Slim’s dismembered bodies were a grim warning of the lethality of imposing one’s will over another. Why must it be so, Niel wondered. What good can come from such madness?

  But then again, he considered those that railed against them – Harvesters, cutthroats, and power hungry barons, willing to sacrifice their followers like ants in an effort to build the biggest colony.

  “It’s crazy…absolute madness, and we continue to pay the price,” Niel mumbled, almost incoherently under his breath, but it was enough for his co-pilot to hear.

  “What’s that, Niel?”

  “Oh…sorry…nothing really. Just trying to make sense of the killing.”

  “Yeah. I hear ya. It’s enough to drive a person to drink.”

  Another half mile passed beneath them, with neither man speaking. The survivalist thought he had been prepared for every eventuality…but he’d been wrong. When they’d settled with The Ward they were weary of living from one scant meal to the next, and starved for human interaction beyond their own. Northern Utah, of all places, seemed a likely spot to hunker down and ride out the rest of their days. However, they never imagined so many rivals would come to vie for Cache Valley’s treasures – if they could be called that any longer.

  In the early days, the community had been ripe with food storage, guns, ammunition, and some of the luxuries they’d prayed for while on the road: toilet paper, clean water, and the occasional hot shower. As it stood today, The Ward was still much better than living on the lamb, yet the killing and constant attacks were wearing thin. Just a few days before, he and his wife had considered cutting themselves loose, but the icy notion had melted away with the warmth of good friends and a community they loved.

  Seeing an armored beast roll toward them had initially made him second-guess their decision to stay, but now, considering their circumstances, his blood boiled and he wanted revenge. “We still headed back to The Alamo once we warn the others?” he asked.

  Niel, who had been pondering that very question, turned briefly to look at Scotty. He was lying motionless on his side, while one of the women held his head in her lap. She caught Niel’s gaze and instinctively knew the question he was posing. Glancing at Scotty’s face and then back at his brother, she answered by shaking her head from side-to-side.

  “Crap,” Niel shouted, pounding the flat of his right palm against the steering wheel.

  “What?” his companion asked, also taking a moment to look at Scotty’s condition.

  “No. No…we don’t go back.”

  “Then what?” the survivalist asked.

  “If only I knew…but we’ve got to slow ’em down. If nothing else, we make them use up their ammo. If they get to The Alamo, with a force their size and that armored contraption, The Ward is through.”

  “I agree. I was hoping you’d changed your mind. So now what?”

  Niel weighed the question for only a second before responding. “Hit and run – we lay in wait, hit them as hard as we can and then fall back. We know the town – they don’t.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We’ve got to think they’ll try to neutralize the other guard stations just like the first. We can ambush them – take a few at a time, while we try to figure out a way to blow up that tank,” Niel explained.

  The survivalist nodded his agreement and then asked, “What about those new grenades. You know Whitcomb’s HIT invention – would it work?”

  “Maybe, but it’s a mute point. I don’t have one. Do you?”

  “No, me neither, but perhaps someone at the other stations will. I’ll ask around and see what I can find.”

  “Fine, but for now we better rely on our aim and speed.”

  “Gotcha,” Niel’s sounding board replied.

  Slowing to round a bend that led to The Ward’s outpost, Niel motioned for his counterpart to warn those in the truck’s bed. Minutes later the pickup ground to a halt and they were greeted with exuberant shouts and dozens of questions. Niel did his best to answer queries and suppress fears.

  “Where’s Scotty,” one sentry shouted, which was followed quickly by, “and Derek and Slim?”

  “Scotty’s in the truck – the others are dead. We’ve no time to explain. Just trust me, we’ve got to abandon this station and set up ambush positions up around the bend,” Niel declared boldly.

  “Alright…alright…you heard the man. Get your stuff and let’s move out,” the station’s supervisor shouted.

  Suddenly, a low, guttural moan, and then cough erupted from the truck’s bed. Niel rushed to look over the tailgate and was overcome with relief to see Scotty was awake and asking questions.

  “He’s just come around,” the woman explained.

  “Where…where am I?” Scotty asked, the words coming slow and somewhat garbled.

  “We’re at the Western Outpost. We’re getting ready to ambush those suckers,” Niel replied.

  “Did we stop it?” Scotty asked, while slowly lifting himself to sit on his behind.

  “No…but we put the fear of God in them.”

  “Good,” Scotty whispered. “Where’s my gun?” Those around him immediately sensed his frustration, as Scotty rummaged for his weapon. “I’m not gonna be any help without a gun.”

  “Hold tight, Scott,” Niel assured. “Somebody get my brother a rifle and let’s move out.”

  In the time it took the sentries to gather their things, Niel pulled the survivalist couple aside and gave them a direct order. “Pick a ride and make a beeline for the last outpost. Let them know what’s happened and do the same there: set up ambushes and take as many of them as you can. We’ll try to hook up with you on campus, but if we don’t make it…”

  “Oh, hell, you’re gonna be alright,” the male began, before Niel finished his thought.

  “Hope so, but if we don’t, let Clark and Rod know we tried to make a stand.”

  “Will do,” the survivalist replied, extending his hand to Niel.

  “Now, get on your way and be safe.”

  “You too.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later and with the sun rising, two teams of five straddled the bend not far from the Western Outpost. A pair of vehicles they’d hastily moved to block the roadway, sat with their engines silent. Gasoline soaked shirts dangled to the ground from their open gas caps, while a small thread of the combustible liquid trailed across the asphalt and up a driveway, terminating at Scotty’s feet. He knelt with a lighter in hand, a bare torso, and his eyes on the improvised, explosive barricade.

  On the opposite side of the street, Niel watched and listened. From an open window on the second story of a bricked home, he could see several blocks straight ahead. The road was wide and relatively unencumbered. What few vehicles remained were pulled to the side or hidden behind powerless garage doors. Most, if not all, had been siphoned of their precious petrol and abandoned as worthless clutter. It seemed almost surreal to Niel that items esteemed as so valuable should now be considered useless, rusted-out junk. Yet, they served a purpose and today might shield
his band of warriors from an almost certain death.

  From their position, the faint echo of distant gunfire had almost ceased, stirring emotions and forcing the combatants to draw unimagined conclusions. Despite the worry, Niel remained focused, more so than before, now that Scotty was upright and angry. He’d seen his brother revved up on several occasions but since his awakening, Scotty’s defiance was palpable, perhaps the result of a concussion.

  Niel ground his teeth as he scanned from the roadway to each of his units, his eyes finally coming to rest on his half-dressed brother. Niel noted how Scotty’s blond hair and white skin shone in the early morning light, and he chuckled when he looked down to see his own bare chest. What an idea, he thought; hoping Scotty’s hurried plan was a success.

  Suddenly, the rumble of heavy tires on solid asphalt alerted Niel to their foe’s arrival. He counted, one…two…three…four, but no tank. From his perch, he gave hand signals, specifying number and estimated time of arrival.

  At the curve, the attackers would have nowhere else to go, and then the trap would be sprung. The noise from the charging vehicles climbed, their engines stoked and wheels showing no sign of slowing as they approached the ambush.

  Ready…steady…wait for them…wait for them, Niel cautioned, trying not to get ahead of himself. “Now! Now!” he exclaimed, pumping his fist for Scotty to light the gasoline.

  Like clockwork, the flame leapt across the petrol’s flammable surface, reaching the parked vehicles just as the marauding trucks rounded the bend. In a colossal impact of men, metal, and burning vapors, the first truck hit the barricade and went end over end, sending those in the back sailing skyward. The second oncoming 4x4 swerved to a stop, its bumper touching where the previous truck had gone airborne. A cluster of armed fighters piled from the back and took cover, however, the move was futile as the first of the two rigged cars erupted in a flash, spewing shrapnel in a wide circumference.