Extinction Level Event (Book 4): Rescue

by Jones, K. J.

  “Barefoot and pregnant, huh?”

  Ben thought of who he could get into a betting pool with on how long she’d stay at home behind the walls.

  “Hardheaded,” Mackey declared. “All we got is some hardheaded women.”

  “You need to shut your mouth,” Vi said.

  “This here why women ain’t supposed to be in the military.” He banged his hand against the back of Phebe’s headrest for emphasis. “This here why. Y’all hardheaded and crazy.”

  “Because we’re better fighters than y’all. And have higher pain tolerance. And smarter.”

  “Smarter? Fuck that. I ain’t the one jumping outta moving vehicles and bleeding all over the seat.”

  “Oh. So I’m stupid for not being in a car they done flipped?”

  “Bleeding all over the damn seat. But, oh no, don’t want any medical attention.”

  Ben searched his utility vest until he found his first response kit. He unwrapped a large bandage and passed it to her..

  “Put this on your damn gunshot wound, woman.”

  Vi took it out of his hand and glared at Mackey.

  “Hardheaded woman.”

  “You need to shut up and stop running your mouth.”

  “Or what? Ain’t nothing you can do to me the way you are. Gonna hit me with that arm there that don’t work. How in the fuck are you running around like that? It ain’t right, Viola Thomson. You ain’t right in the head. You crazy. Got nothing but hardheaded, crazy women around here. Gonna put all y’all behind a wall.”

  “You ain’t gonna do shit but run your big mouth. They should’ve kept your dumbass in prison.”

  Ben asked anyone who’d answer, “Where did everyone go? There’s no sign of any of those vehicles.”

  “I don’t see ‘em.” Peter had fallen silent and stewing. His gaze scanned for hostiles, then at the side of Phebe’s face. He shook his head and scanned again.

  Wherever the central North Charleston tribe fighters had pursued the white supremacist tribe, it was not visible on the route back to the Star Gate House.

  “They better not fuck up Matt,” Peter muttered.

  Ben smirked. It was Peter’s way of worrying.

  The SUV slowed once in the Historic area. They fell silent in the backseat. Everyone looked out windows. .

  Despite wanting to get to the house as soon as possible, Peter drove the long way around, via the road near Battery Park. A less expected route for an ambush.

  “Dang,” Mackey said. “Y’all got some motherfucking rat problems. We ain’t got that many. Y’all eating them? That what we do. Our kids good at catching them.”

  “We have rat killer kids too.” Peter spoke but never took his gaze away from scanning. “But, do me a favor. Don’t mention eating rats. Some of our people do not know that’s what’s in our mystery meat stew.”

  “You are kidding me,” roared Phebe.

  Ben laughed. He had known. Apparently, she had not.

  “I hope they didn’t get killed,” said Peter. “Matt was with them.”

  “The medic went out with ‘em?” asked Mackey. “That just dumb. He the most valuable of all of us.”

  Onto their section of East Bay Street. Crawling speed up their street.

  “Look what they have.” Ben pointed.

  Peter smiled. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Are those prisoners?” Mackey asked.

  “A present,” said Peter.

  Chris waved at them. He pointed to the prisoners and smiled big.

  “Love that redneck.”

  “He does have a certain flair,” Ben commented.

  Peter parked. Chris dragged his heels as he walked up to his lowered window.

  “Are those gifts for me?” Peter asked.

  “I didn’t get to fire the SAW this whole dang time.”

  “I’m sorry, big man. Maybe next time.”

  Phebe got out and walked around the SUV to Chris.

  “Why you always banged up and got blood all over you, baby girl?”

  He hugged her.

  “Peter’s mean to me.”

  “You kick his ass?”

  “No. He took my machete away. He’s not allowing me to behead anymore.”

  “That asshole.”

  The others got out. Peter closed his door and watched at his friend and his wife.

  “She’s under house arrest like the Jackson kids. I expect you to back me up on that, Christopher.”

  “Baby girl, I gotta back him up.”

  “No,” she whined.

  “Don’t be like that. You getting worrisome, baby girl.” He kissed her forehead before releasing her.

  Peter fought to repress his smile. Chris loved her. That felt reassuring. Chris would always protect her and look after her. After near death, he worried about her and the baby if something happened to him. Chris would look after them. He knew Matt would, but was not a hundred percent if Matt wouldn’t jump in his grave to be with her as more than a friend. A code of honor said to not go for each other’s widows but always look after each other’s families.

  Dre went to Vi.

  “My shoulder needs a pop into place.”

  “Where you bleeding?”

  “Your sister a hardheaded woman,” said Mackey.

  Via and Dre looked alike. A definite family resemblance, in addition to their extreme height.

  Dre chuckled. “Tell me something I don’t know, brother.”

  Vi gestured to Phebe. “She’s pregnant. She is priority.”

  Dre looked over at Phebe. His eyes conveyed what he was thinking.

  Peter would be thinking too. Why prioritize another group’s pregnant woman over his own tribe? And his own sister.

  Why would a bunch of ghetto criminals be so humane?

  Or maybe these two weren’t ghetto.

  Peter knew members of that tribe had done time. Too many cops and crooks in his family. He saw on Monty the prison tats. It was harder to see them on darker skin, but close up, as he had been with Monty, he could discern the forearm ink. It looked like his maternal grandfather’s tattoos when he was released from Walpole prison as an old man.

  He didn’t feel entirely secure with the idea of a bunch of timers. Not when it came to the safety of his own tribe. He worried about Phebe and Tyler, though he suspected that was probably uncalled for. Anyone who’d try to mess with either of them had no brains at all. And would probably end up with their brains visible through their skull. Even if unarmed, he figured both were capable of pushing their thumbs through somebody’s eye sockets and biting off a nose. If need be.

  But there was Angela and Nia, Emily and Karen. Could they fight wildcat if targeted for victimization?

  Mental note to talk with Mazy about this.

  He wouldn’t have trusted his grandfather with his tribe either. Not a good man. Nor were his maternal uncles. Or his cousins on that side. Most of them were in and out of jail and prison too. As scary as Phebe and Tyler were becoming, they at least obeyed rules of honor.

  But the best bet for survival in a world regressing back to medieval morality – when in doubt, kill – were people who already had a foot in such violence. Crooks and cops.

  “Okay, you,” he said to Phebe. “You go inside.”

  “To knit?” she challenged.

  He bellowed, “Go find a fucking book on it and start doing it.”

  “You are an asshole.”

  “I never said I was anything but, sweetheart.”

  “You do know you are not the leader.”

  “You sound like Matt now.”

  Chris said, “He is your husband, baby girl.”

  She looked Chris up and down with a brow cocked like Mister Spock. “Are we going back in time or did we go through a dimensional porthole?”

  Peter said, “We’ll argue later. Just go. Christopher, tell me what happened here?”

  “Gimme my machete back and I’ll go.”

  “Christ! Here. Now go.”

&nb
sp; “Dickhead.” She walked towards the faux door while sheathing her weapon of choice.

  He shook his head several times.

  Chris burst out laughing. “You are in over your head, son.”

  “Tell me about it. At least she listened in the end.”

  “You bribed her.”

  “I am not taking marital advice from you. So shut up. Debrief me. Why are these fuckers alive?”

  “Oh, before I forget, Ty got wounded. He alright. Nia’s making him a purple heart medal outta some paper.”

  “Okay. But debrief me. Why are these assholes still alive?”

  Chris shrugged. “Ya know, we can do something if they still alive. Dead ain’t got much wiggle room.”

  “That was such a you answer. I’m gonna talk to Mazy. She makes more sense.”

  Ben was already over to Mazy. They exchanged highlights. Unlike what Peter could get out of Chris, Ben and Mazy exchanged need-to-knows in a functional communicative way. He moved in to join in this phenomenon.

  Mazy filled him in.

  “Okay,” said Peter. “Can they listen in on our radios from across the bay? This lack of scrambler is a pain in the ass.” He picked up his radio and said terrible things. “

  No response.

  He changed channels and did it again. Nothing. Another channel. Until he did them all. Nothing.

  “They can’t. Not through the retired carrier over there.”

  Mazy and Ben studied the map from the central North Charleston tribe. She laid it out on the SUV hood.

  “How many could still be alive over on the Yorkshire?” she asked..

  “Good place to keep away from zoms,” said Ben.

  “But that’s apparently all they’re doing.”

  “Sounds like they’re pretty reta’ded over there. Are there houses over on that side? The …” Peter craned his neck to see the map Mazy held open. “Mount Pleasant.”

  “Hey, Dre, are there houses on Mount Pleasant?” Mazy hollered.

  He walked over. Peter noted the guy worked out a lot. He was muscular.

  “Yeah. Shitloads.”

  “Were they bombed or something?” Peter asked.

  “Not that we’re aware of.”

  Peter looked at Dre’s exposed forearms. His dark skin would make it very hard to see any tattoos.

  “You checking my arms, man?”

  “For prison tats.”

  Dre held out his arms. “None. We ain’t that family, Vi and me. We’re church-going people.”

  Peter nodded.

  Though no one’s face showed pushing for more info, Dre offered, “Vi just turned out to be the best aim.”

  Peter nodded. Though that did not settle in his gut as making any real sense. An urban female just happened to be an excellent shot with longer range. There was a missing piece to the puzzle.

  Albeit, he remembered that was the case with Phebe. However, professional snipers trained her. Which to him meant there was, or at least had been at some point, a sniper with them.

  But that could wait.

  His mind turned over the problems for his tribe. Female slavery was in action. It made his stomach feel heavy like stones were in it. And made his heart enraged. It figured that would be the first step in the regression of civilization. They targeted Phebe. And they targeted two females for whom he felt responsible.

  10.

  Phebe huffed and puffed in her offense of their old-fashion sexism. She banged open doors as she went through the house.

  Then she saw her Tyler with bandages on his side and she forgot her problems.

  “What happened?” She squatted in front of his chair. “Are you alright?” She didn’t wait for a response and took him into her arms. “It’s going to be alright.”

  He allowed it for a little while. Until he heard someone coming and pushed her off of him.

  “I just got some explosion shrapnel. No big deal.” He shrugged, but he glanced at Jayce. “It don’t hurt.”

  He was lying.

  “Is the shrapnel removed?” she asked.

  “Doc Jenkins said he wanted Matt here. But now that girl has a gunshot wound. What happened to you? Why you always banged up and got blood on you?”

  She chuckled, remembering Chris asked the same thing.

  “I seem to attract it.”

  “Is that your blood?”

  “Most isn’t.”

  He smiled. “Did you get heads?”

  “I tried. But my hubby is a dickhead.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. Most adults are.”

  “Later, let’s find clown and pig stuff.”

  His eyes sparkled. “Yeah. That there a plan.” He sounded like Chris again.

  She wanted to hug him, but more people entered the room. She knew Tyler liked fronting a tough badass persona. It took a lot of work for a thirteen-year-old to do that.

  Standing up, she took her radio and requested info on Matt’s location.

  “How the fuck do I know? Over.”

  “Not liking you, Sullivan. Over.”

  “Stay in the fucking house, crazy woman. Over and out.”

  “Asshole.” She glared at the radio in her hand.

  “He is being a dickhead,” Tyler said. “He acting like he an adult and you a kid.”

  “I know. Right? The dickhead.”

  Emily walked in. Steam nearly came out of her ears. “Are you alright, Phebe?” She asked a nurturing question in a tone that sounded like she was telling Phebe off.

  “Um. Yeah. You?”

  “They came after me. Can you believe this shit?”

  “They came after me, too.”

  “Is this not the most fucked up thing ever? They came for Karen, too. She’s a kid.”

  “There ain’t no kids in the Zone,” Tyler decreed.

  She ignored him. “They were dropping N-words all over the place.” A small smirk. “You should have seen Jayce. He was awesome. So pissed off he was.”

  Mullen came in. He held out his hand to Emily. “I’m sorry. I broke your necklace.”

  She took it from him. “That’s alright.”

  “I’ll get you another gold chain. There’s a lot of jewelry stores.”

  She tucked the pendant and broken gold chain into her jeans pocket. “I want those Nazi, female slavers dead. That’s what I want.”

  “Don’t think I can do that as easy as getting you another chain.”

  She almost laughed, but her dark mood clouded amusement.

  He looked at Phebe. “Got more bruises and blood, huh?”

  “It’s my theme.”

  “Where’s Matt? Ty’s got shit in him.”

  “Why isn’t Dr. Jenkins doing the surgeries?”

  “He’s freaking out. This is apparently not what plastic surgeons do.”

  “Well, this isn’t shit forensic anthropology Ph.D. candidates do either. Yet here we are.”

  “Where’s Angela?”

  “Back at their camp with the pregnant women.”

  “Aren’t you …?”

  “The really pregnant women. About to pop.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  * * *

  Their radios did not reach each other’s camps. Eric leaped into his chair to work on the communication problem fix. In the meanwhile, a relay person was sent to a midway point. Matt needed updates on the women about to give birth. Angela informed the C-section patient was hanging in there, but another woman’s water broke.

  Matt was needed at the Star Gate House. Angela would have to midwife it and call him if things went wrong.

  Peter, Mazy, and Ben followed Matt into the house to receive a debrief while he got on with what was most pressing. He scrubbed his hands in a basin of clean water as they talked. Peter helped him get gloves on and Ben opened doors for him.

  Vi bled on the pool table. Dr. Jenkins looked so pale that it should have been him bleeding out.

  “The bullet is in her,” Dr. Jenkins pointed out. “But her shoulder is back in its socket.�
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  Mazy laid Matt’s bag on the table beside the patient.

  “Cut her clothes away from the wound,” Matt ordered.

  “I’ll do it,” said Mackey.

  “You will not,” Vi said. “Where’s Dre?”

  “You know he doesn’t like blood.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Hey,” said Karen. “I’ll do it. Everyone not needed needs to back away.”

  Matt smirked. Karen sounded like a veteran trauma unit nurse.

  “Somebody get a clean water basin, soap, and gloves,” he ordered. “Karen, you’ll assist me. Same with you, Dr. Jenkins.”

  “I took her vitals.” The doctor pointed to a piece of paper.

  Matt looked at the info. “Vi, what’s your blood type?”

  “I don’t know. Same as Dre’s. Ask him what it is.”

  “Mackey, get that from him please.”

  Matt observed the older man. “You feeling alright there, doc?”

  “I’m fine. Just a lot of excitement.”

  Karen looked from Matt’s face to her father’s. “You okay, Daddy?”

  “Stop asking me. I’m fine.” He took a seat. His breath fast. He seemed winded for no reason.

  As Matt examined the patient’s profusely bleeding wound in her stomach, Vi asked, “What happened? What’s the debrief?”

  “Oh. They’re dead. Your tribe has some great fighters.”

  “Vicious as fuck, ain’t they?” She smiled.

  Dre reported they were both O positive. That was a relief. The next relayed message was a need for a blood donor who was O positive.

  * * *

  “I hate fucking needles.”

  “Big guy like you, Dre?” Peter smiled.

  Chris said, “I can do it. We’ll let you stay here and be afraid like a little girl.”

  Dre laughed.

  Peter followed Chris inside, but veered off to the dining room.

  The map was spread out on the dining room table since the billiard’s room was occupied. Mazy studied it intently. “We have to make explosives.”

  Ben nodded. “We’ll collect the material.”

  “I really dislike that they’ve got this whole industrial area at their disposal. It doesn’t sound like they are as ridiculous as the ones across the bay.”

  Peter said, “That’s why they are trying to align and placate them.”

  “They’re stupid enough to believe it,” said Ben. “I don’t think they’d take on any dead weight any more than we would.”