by Lopez, Rob
Dee stared at her. It was obvious what was going on. What was not so obvious was what to do about it.
“It’s a raid,” whispered Jackie, her grubby face looming in the shadows. “We need to get up in the hayloft.”
Nobody disagreed and soon the mothers, clutching their babies, scrambled awkwardly up the ladder. Shuffling in the dark across the dusty, hay strewn floorboards, Dee crouched down behind the thickest beam she could find, heart pounding.
A bullet cracked through the boarding below, ricocheting with a clang off an iron feeder.
“This is crazy. We need to get out of here!” exclaimed a voice.
“Keep your voice down,” hushed another.
Someone that Dee couldn’t identify crawled along the floor and prized open the warped wooden door at the end of the loft.
“Brenda, what the hell are you doing?” hissed a voice.
“I need to see what’s happening,” whispered Brenda.
In spite of the danger, Dee also wanted to see what was going on outside. Sitting blind in the darkness only made everything feel worse. She edged closer to the door to peer out.
The screaming and the gunfire subsided, and Dee saw people streaming out of the main gate. On the road lay the bodies of the soldiers guarding the entrance. Someone stooped to pick up one of their fallen rifles and two shots rang out immediately, dropping the person next to the soldiers. Those fleeing picked up the pace and fled faster without a second glance at the bodies.
“Oh my God, what are we doing here? We need to get out,” uttered a tremulous voice.
“I don’t want to go out there,” said another.
The door to the hut by the gate opened and the officer in charge of camp security peered out, pistol in hand. A single shot thwacked into the door frame, and he immediately dropped the pistol and put his hands up to surrender. The gunfire persisted, however, and after a couple more near misses, he turned tail and ran with the others down the road.
“Isn’t anybody going to defend us?” asked Brenda in shock.
Dee hugged Jacob, her baby, rocking him frantically so he wouldn’t cry. If Walt had been there, she thought, he’d know what to do. He would have led her to safety.
The realization prompted her to say out loud, “We need to try and get to the woods.”
“Are you crazy?” said Brenda. “The people doing the shooting are in the woods.”
“They can’t be everywhere. It’s getting dark. We can slip away.”
“Oh my God, they’re executing the guards,” said Margaret from the other end of the hayloft.
Everyone hurried over to peer through the cracks in the boards. By the river jetty, two guards, one a police officer, lay wounded, trying to crawl to cover. A single character, wielding a pistol in each hand, strode casually over to them and discharged first one shot, then another, that stilled the guards’ actions and left them in pools of blood. Out of the woods emerged more such characters, walking casually through the camp. There seemed to be a lot of them.
“We have to go now!” urged Dee.
One of the babies in the group began to cry. “Oh please, not now,” said the baby’s mother, doing her best to soothe it.
“Shut him up!”
“I’m trying!”
Dee decided not to wait any longer. Hurrying over to the loft hatch, she looked down and froze.
At the bottom of the ladder, a man stood, rifle in hand. “Well, hello ladies,” he said with a lascivious smile.
*
Harvey lay on the couch with a tiny Bible clutched to his chest, staring up at the gilded ceiling of the lounge like he could see right through it. His breathing was shallow, his once ample cheeks sunken, and he wasn’t responding to anything Rick said to him.
“What’s the matter with him?” Rick asked Sally. “Is he sick or something?”
Sally ushered Rick over to the small mahogany bar in the corner of the lounge and lowered her voice. “It’s not like that, exactly,” she said pensively.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s … kind of hard to explain.”
Rick had expected that, after their ordeal, the nurse and the security guard might be tired. That maybe eating good cooked food for the first time in weeks would sap their energy for a while as the body stole it from them to digest the rare nutrients. He even expected Harvey to keep his shitty mood. He wasn’t expecting him to fall into some kind of trance and leave planet Earth completely.
“If he’s got some kind of condition, I need to know,” said Rick. “You assured me that neither of you had anything contagious before I let you in here, and I took your word as a nurse for that.”
Sally pursed her lips. “You’re familiar with post-traumatic stress disorder, aren’t you?”
“Very,” said Rick, “and it don’t look like that. Guys I knew with PTSD got drinking problems and mood swings. Not like him. He’s barely got a pulse. It’s like something’s sucked the life out of him.”
Sally sighed heavily, clearly reluctant to say anything. “PTSD takes many forms …”
“Sally, I’m not stupid,” cut in Rick, “and I don’t have time for this shit. Tell me straight what’s wrong with him.”
Sally bit her lip. “It’s guilt,” she said flatly.
“Guilt? For what? Getting beat up by some thugs? Did his ego take a beating too? Deal with it. He looks like he’s dying. How fragile an ego did the guy have?”
“It’s more than that,” said Sally, annoyed.
“So you keep saying, but I’m waiting for you to tell me what.”
A tear came to Sally’s eye and she brushed it savagely away. “He wants to die,” she said with an air of defiance.
“He told you that?”
“No, but … I understand him.”
Rick wasn’t satisfied with that. “Well, I don’t. I do know that I went to some trouble and overrode a few objections to keep you two alive. Now you tell me he doesn’t want to do that? Why?”
“I think he’s waiting for judgment,” she said, casting an eye toward the Bible.
“For what?”
Sally hesitated for a moment. “Mr Moore didn’t, uh, die of natural causes.” The mere mention of it made her wince.
Rick frowned. “Harvey killed him. I figured that much out.”
“He hastened his end,” said Sally more delicately. “As an act of mercy.”
Rick looked to the security guard, whose skin had already taken on an unhealthy pallor. It was like, having pushed Mr. Moore into the great beyond, Harvey had chosen to take his place and look like him.
“You have to understand, we were out of water and …” began Sally.
Rick cut her off. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” In all honesty, he didn’t know why they hadn’t done it earlier. Waiting on that ward all those days must have seemed like purgatory, made all the worse by knowing what the outcome would be. If the end was inevitable, it made sense to hasten it. At least to Rick.
“There’s no need to be so callous about it,” said Sally. “It was a difficult decision. I don’t know what kind of man you are, but Harvey isn’t like that.”
Rick caught the intonation and brushed it aside. “I’m not interested in the whys and wherefores. I need to know what he’s planning and if he’s going to get better.”
“He’s not planning anything.” Sally looked toward the security guard. “It’s not in his hands anymore. The Lord’s going to decide.”
“Is he, now?”
“You have to understand, Mr. Nolan. In his mind, he’s committed murder. That might not mean much to a soldier like you, but deep down inside, Harvey’s a gentle soul. And he’s suffering now. He’s sinned, and he feels it to the core. He’s waiting on the Lord’s judgment. If you were a religious man, you would see it clearly.”
“All I see is someone wasting my time. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re supposed to be judged after you die. I don’t remember hearing nothing about lying down and waiting for it to happen. He’
s got a duty to live.”
“His duty is toward God, not you or your desires, Mr. Nolan. Read your Scripture.”
“I don’t have one, but Scripture says not to test your God, which is what he’s doing now by waiting to die.” Rick looked her in the eye. “I’m not the philistine you think I am.”
Leaving the room, he found Scott waiting for him in the corridor.
“You shouldn’t have invited them in,” said Scott.
Rick kept walking. “I don’t have time to argue about this.”
Scott fell in step with him. “Then you need to make time. The guy’s just a burden now. We’ve got to share rations with them, but they’re not pulling their weight to earn it. The rest of us are still left doing all the scavenging and pulling guard duty.”
“I’m not throwing them out now, Scott.”
“Then give them an ultimatum. Contribute, or leave. If he wants to meet his maker, he can do it someplace else. We’ve got enough mouths to feed. This ain’t no Sunday school.”
“You don’t have to like them. Just give them time.”
“I don’t see why we should.”
Rick stopped and turned on him. “It’s my decision, okay. You got a problem with that?”
Scott studied his friend, mulling his reply. “I’m just saying you need to think about it more. And maybe consider the rest of us when you make these decisions.”
“Don’t give me a hard time, Scott. I’m doing my best.”
“I know. Just saying.”
Rick felt the tension in his neck muscles as his anger simmered. “Noted,” he said brusquely as he turned away.
24
A chill breeze from the river bristled the hairs on the back of Dee’s neck, causing her to shiver. Little Jacob stirred in her arms, picking up on his mother’s tense nervousness. He wasn’t due a feed yet, but she uncovered her breast and directed his mouth to her nipple to keep him quiet. One of the raiders standing guard nearby took a look at her, holding his gaze longer than Dee felt comfortable with. Her stomach churned as she wondered what lay in store for her and the other mothers. The things she’d seen so far left her under few illusions. To say that things looked bad was a cruel understatement.
After the raiders secured the camp, they rounded up selected individuals, separating the men from the women and tying them up in long lines. Dee noticed that the women chosen were all young and attractive. The captured men were all lean and relatively fit. The old and overweight were cut loose and allowed to go free, often with a kick or a swung rifle butt speeding them on their way. Abandoned children were simply ignored, like they were invisible. Some cried and some begged, but the raiders were deaf to their pleas, and they were left behind. The stores from the farmhouse were loaded onto a boat and sent downstream. The chosen prisoners were made to walk, or stumble, at a fast pace along the river bank, following the boat.
Dee and the other mothers, however, were given special treatment. As darkness became total and the stars came out, they were herded onto another, smaller, boat and cast off. The brute with the two pistols appeared to be in charge, and he boarded the boat. While another raider rowed, he took the tiller at the back, humming a ditty to himself. Dee had heard the other raiders call him 'Axel’. Pinned to his chest was a row of captured police badges. Exuding supreme self-confidence, Dee expected him to be some ex-con with a slew of prison tattoos, but none were visible, and he was clean shaven and free of obvious scars. There was no doubting his ruthlessness, however. Dee had watched him execute five people, including the officer who’d run away but had been caught. On his knees, the officer had begged for his life, but Axel viewed him with contempt, called him a pussy and blew his head off. Even the other raiders seemed wary of him.
“Oh, it’s a fine night for a cruise, ladies,” he murmured.
Dee cringed at the smooth menace in his voice. She wondered fearfully if she and the others were destined to become his personal harem. She looked at the dark water drifting by and considered the possibility of throwing herself in and trying to escape to shore.
With Jacob clutched to her breast, however, that simply wasn’t an option. That was probably why Axel and the other raider were so relaxed. Dee and the other mothers, trapped with their burdens of care, weren’t really about to go anywhere. Humming his monotonous tune, he steered the boat toward a distant light.
Darkness made the distance deceptive, and it was a while before they reached the source of the light, which turned out to be camp fires on the river bank. Dee was surprised at the brazen manner in which the raiders had set up their camp, as if they didn’t care who could see them. At least a dozen armed men roamed the camp. The boat with the supplies was already being unloaded, and Axel beached the smaller boat alongside, ushering the mothers out. Dee and the others were led to a fire where a solitary figure sat, warming his hands, with a blanket over his shoulders.
“I brought them, safe and sound, just like you asked,” said Axel.
The figure looked up and nodded somberly. “Did you get us some more pack mules?” he asked.
“Yeah, but they’ll take a while to get here. They’re on their way.”
The figure, like Axel, was clean shaven. He appeared thoughtful. “When the boat’s unloaded, take it upriver and bring all the prisoners here. We need to move again in a couple of hours.”
“We still headed west?”
“Yes, we’re done here.”
Dee’s gaze drifted around the camp, alighting on a group of men who lay prostrate on the cold ground. At first Dee thought they might be dead, until one of them coughed. Then she wondered if they were ill. Finally she saw that, like the prisoners from the camp, they were all tied together in a line. Nearby, a mass of large backpacks was neatly stacked, one for each of the men.
Suddenly she understood the term, and the function, of the word 'mule’.
The solitary figure at the fire noticed her gaze. “Recognize anyone there?” he asked.
Dee turned to him, still a little stunned. “No,” she said.
The figure, clearly the real leader, looked to be about her age, but the calm authority he exuded made him look a lot older. “Then you don’t need to be interested in them. You won’t be doing their job.”
Dee was almost afraid to ask what job he had in mind for her, but in the end she couldn’t help herself. It just sort of slipped out. “What do you want with us?”
The man glanced at her with casual contempt. “What makes you think I want anything with you?” he asked.
A little voice in her head told Dee this would be a good time to shut up, but again the words tumbled out. “You had us brought here specially.”
The man exchanged a glance with Axel, then uttered a dry, humorless laugh. “You think you’re special? Is that it?”
“No, I …”
“Then put it out of your mind. You’re expendable, just like all the other morons.”
Dee caught her breath at the finality of his tone, as if she’d been tried and duly sentenced. His next words, however, almost caused her to suffocate.
“Your babies, however. They’re worth something. They are going to be very, very useful to us.”
*
Rick stood over Harvey, tempted to kick him. He wanted to grab the little Bible and stuff it into the man’s protesting mouth. Except, the way he looked now, he probably wouldn’t protest. He was damn near gone, and Sally had been nursing him the way she’d nursed the elderly patients back at the hospital. What irked Rick was that the security guard wasn’t elderly, and had no excuse to be dying right now. But dying he was, refusing all food and slowly wasting away.
Rick walked away before he did something he’d regret.
Or not regret, depending on how he felt, which, at the moment, was pretty bitter.
The jangling of cans called his attention.
From the spotting position on the roof of the clubhouse, they’d rigged up a system of wires and tin cans. Whoever was on duty there – and there was alw
ays someone now – had simply to pull the wire to alert everyone inside to possible danger.
Lauren was on the roof today. As he ran to the ladder, Rick bumped into Josh. “Grab Chuck and watch the side entrance.”
The main entrance had been barricaded shut, and the other doors barred. The side door to the kitchen was the only one they used now, and Scott and April were out foraging. Rick ascended to the roof.
“What we got?” he said.
Lauren crouched low behind the semi-circle of sandbags, peering down the scope of her rifle. “I don’t really know,” she said.
Rick took out his binoculars and peered over the sandbags. Out on the rolling greens of the golf course, a single figure was setting out a table and chair. “What the hell?”
“It’s Packy,” said Lauren, easing off the safety catch.
Rick focused in. Packy was on the other side of Briar Creek, in an exposed position. He appeared to be laying out a cloth on the table, like some cartoon character preparing a picnic in some unlikely location. Smoothing out the cloth, he sat down on the chair, folded his arms and waited. On the part of the cloth that hung down, directly facing the clubhouse, Rick could read clearly the scrawled words: Packy’s Trading Post.
“What’s he doing?”
“I told you,” said Lauren. “He’s crazy.
“You also said he’s smarter than he looks. He must know we’re here.”
“How?”
Rick wasn’t sure, but the big white clubhouse wasn’t an easy thing to hide, and Packy must have scoped the place out and seen it occupied. And he must have done it without being spotted by the lookout or their foraging patrols.
“He must know we can shoot him from here,” said Lauren.
“He’s got to be a decoy,” said Rick, scanning the rest of the golf course. He was looking for Packy’s last reported compatriots, and he found them both in the trees behind Packy’s position, lying in thick foliage and covering Packy with their guns.
“It’s an ambush,” said Rick. “But it’s got to be the dumbest ambush I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe there’s more we haven’t seen?” said Lauren.