When Joe and Kenny made to rise, Charlie hollered them back to the ground. “Not yet. Stay down until I tell you to get up.”
He looked at Willy, “What do you think? Do we need to go after the one that got away?”
“Only if you can catch him on foot.” He pointed down below. One of the quads must have been leaking gas, or the cap had come off the tank with impact when it crashed and whoever was on it had to have been one of the smokers, because it burst into flame. The two men tangled up with it didn’t move. None of the others did either, but Willy didn’t want to go below until he knew there was no chance that one of them wasn’t playing possum. He waited a while longer and then stood.
Willy sighed, as if he didn’t want to, but had to check them. The smell of burning flesh assaulted his nose. He waved Charlie forward, “The rest of you wait here. If you see one of them move, shoot them.”
He and Charlie paused on the ridge, “Why do I feel like we were just handed a gift?”
Charlie frowned at him and looked at the burning quad, and dead men scattered around, “How is this a gift?”
“We didn’t get shot at, and we hardly used any bullets at all. This turned out far better than I could have hoped for.”
Waving Joe, and Andy back to the top of the hill, Willy and Charlie started down the incline. Avoiding the burning quad and the man trapped under it, they moved to the where the passenger had fallen off. Willy nudged him with his foot, and the guy groaned. Willy flipped him onto his back to see the man trying to pull an automatic from his belt. Before Willy could tell Charlie not to, he shot the man.
“We could have gotten some valuable intel right there,” he said and reached down to pull the rifle from the guy's shoulder. He slung it over his own shoulder and turned to go to the next.
“I don’t think anything he could have told us, would be of much value. I’m hoping we’ll be so far away that we’ll never have to deal with these guys again.”
They walked to the next two men. Charlie turned off the quad that was sitting, idling quietly. As much as he wanted to open the trunk on the back of it, he went to where Willy was pulling another rifle away from one of the men. The other guy's rifle lay several feet away in the dirt, far out of reach of the man who was too dead to use it. Charlie picked it up and marveled at the feel of it in his hand. It felt like he was holding a toy gun and was made of plastic. He slung it over his shoulder and followed Willy to the last bike.
The third quad lay on its side on top of one of the men, and it was apparent the man had only been wounded, but too weak to get himself out from under the heavy machine. His face had turned a dark purple as he’d apparently smothered when he couldn’t breathe. The other was sprawled on his back, brown eyes staring up at the sky. Someone had gotten a well-placed shot and apparently hit the man through his jugular. A pool of dark red blood was already soaking the dirt and rock around his head.
“This almost feels wrong. What if Kenny was right and these guys were just going the same way as us? What if we just massacred innocent men? They never had the chance to defend themselves.”
Willy stopped and pulled the rifle off his shoulder and held it out toward Charlie, “Military issue. Do any of these guys look like National Guard to you? I’ve never seen guardsmen who wore teardrop tattoos before.”
Charlie puffed out his cheeks, pushing air from his pursed lips. “True, but somehow this would have felt better if they’d…oh hell, never mind. It is what it is.” He looked around, “What now?”
Lucas lay on his back with his eyes closed, listening to the escaping quad and heard him long after Lucas thought he would have disappeared. When he could no longer hear it, he rolled onto his stomach and rested his face on his folded hands. Lucas still clutched his Glock, but his finger was no longer on the trigger. He knew he had taken one man down and shot at another. He expected to feel remorse or sadness at taking another man’s life, but all he felt was empty and grateful at the same time.
He felt someone flop down beside him and jumped, his eyes popping open. He raised his head, “Oh man.”
“Did you get them all?”
“Oh my God, Abby. Do you know how mad Willy is going to be when he sees you? You disobeyed a direct order.”
“This isn’t the Army, and if he gets mad at me, he’ll have to get mad at all of us.” Abby pointed behind her.
Lucas glanced over his shoulder and dropped his face back into his hands, “Oh man…” He saw all the women, but Sherry and Ben weren't with them either. There were no horses, and he suspected they had left them somewhere and walked back. He rolled his eyes up and looked at Abby. “Why?”
“Because we weren’t going to run and hide and leave you guys behind. We do everything together or not at all. We all remembered someone saying that a while back, but none of us could remember who. We thought it was a good motto to uphold.”
“What were you going to do? Throw rocks at them?”
Abby patted her pockets and pulled out the slingshot that Lucas had made for her a long time ago, before they ever they ever went to the cave. “As a matter of fact, I was. We all were if we had to.”
Lucas sat up and reached for and took the slingshot from her, “Let me see that.” He grabbed the leather pocket and pulled it back, put it in front of his closed eye as if sighting down it and let go. If he had put a rock in the pocket, his mind saw the pebble fly straight and true. He grinned and handed it back to her.
Abby wrapped the elastic around it and slid it into her back pocket. She looked past him, over his shoulder and back at him.
“The way I see it, you have two choices.” Abby frowned at him, but Lucas ignored her, “You can run away before someone besides me sees you, or you can do the right thing and confess to disobedience.”
“And which would you prefer she does?”
Lucas felt hands settle on his shoulders, one glance and the skin color revealed them to be Willy’s hands. He swallowed, “Well, I prefer her usual straight up approach. Like my mom used to say, better to get in a little trouble and pay the consequences or tell a lie and get an ass whipping for lying and added punishment for the first indiscretion. So, I guess she should stay and face you.”
Willy squeezed Lucas’s shoulders, “Which, as we can see, she has chosen to do. So, Lucas, what punishment would you give the women for disobeying a direct order?”
Lucas couldn’t tell if Willy was playing with him or serious. “I guess we could sentence them to ten days of bread and water?”
“We don’t have any bread, so try again.”
“I guess you could yell at them or something, but I really don’t think they should be punished at all. They did the same thing we would have done under reverse circumstances. We wouldn’t have left them behind and ran and hid. When one runs, we all run, and when one stays, we all stay. It’s as simple as that…I know you might not understand because you’re old…older, but it’s a pact us kids made.”
“You had better stop right there Lucas, before you do any more damage to their case. You go down and help carry up the weapons and don’t forget to turn out pockets. We’ll take anything they have that we can use.”
Willy looked at the girls and women, most of which wore different expressions of defiance. “I’ll deal with you ladies later, for now, we need to collect what we can and get out of here.”
Journey nodded, accepting his words, but her frown magnified the lines between her eyes and Willy waited for her to say something. While she didn’t seem upset by the actions of him and the other men, she still gave off the aura of concern. “Spit it out so we can get started.”
“I’m not sure how to frame this, so excuse me if I sound…confused. How do we know those guys were the same ones who attacked us earlier? What if we just gunned down people who have the same ideals that we do?”
She had used the term we, so she was taking responsibility for their actions, but Willy didn’t know how to explain a feeling to her. He had learned long ago to trust
his gut instincts, and on the one hand, she was right, but on the other, he had felt threatened the way the riders had made their approach. If they had given any indication they were anything but men on a mission of destruction, he would have given an order to stand down.
“Well Miss Journey, I made a judgment call, and it felt right at the time. I guess I’ll have to live with it if I am wrong, but I don’t think I am. Why don’t you go down and have a look at the good samaritans.”
Journey’s shoulders dropped, her arms hung limply at her side, she shrugged and sighed heavily, “Wouldn’t you think that after everything that’s happened to us, that somewhere along the line we’d be given a break? Why can’t we run into people who don’t want something? I became a nurse to help people, not kill them, but right now I can’t save the people that matter.”
“You’ve done wonders with the ones that you have laid your hands on, those guys…I hate to think what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped them. Now, you go and find us something we can carry stuff in, and I’ll go help with the bodies.”
Journey turned without another word, and Willy wondered whether or not to be concerned. She was not anymore discouraged than anyone else in the group, but he thought he understood her feelings. He’d seen it many times on the battlefield. Their medics were asked to perform miracles under less than desirable conditions while keeping up a professional attitude, but he’d seen them break more than once. The life and death situations had hardened them to the aspects of war, and he hoped it wasn’t getting to Journey. Granted, they had had it fairly easy the last few months, but their shortage of food, the loss of their friends and family and having to deal with Ben, might be the straw for Journey.
As he walked back to where the men were scavenging from the invaders, he thought about having a talk with Andy. If anyone would have an idea as to where Journey stood mentally, Willy hoped it would be him.
The one quad that had caught fire when it flipped still burned giving Willy an idea what to do with the bodies. He didn’t want to leave them where they’d fallen, but didn’t want to waste precious time burying them.
“Oh, holy crap,” Joe exclaimed from beside one of the men. The quad had a trunk sitting on the back of the rack behind the passenger seat that Joe was digging through. The other men had laid the guns and provisions they’d gathered in a pile away from the fallen men.
Joe turned to his Dad holding an open leather pouch. He put his hand in, and it came out with clutching something. Willy could see the sun shining off something he held up for the others to see.
“Leave it,” Willy told him as soon as he saw it was gold chains and jewelry all twisted together.
Charlie turned from what he was doing and walked up to Willy, “Why leave it? We didn’t take it off the owners nor would it be stealing. We have no way to return to the rightful owners if they are even still alive. We may be able, at some point trade it for goods that will benefit all of us. Leaving it behind would be sacrilegious. Those guys are the ones who shouldn’t benefit from their thievery.”
“It just doesn’t seem right to take it. It’s like stealing from dead people, but you may be right. If it can benefit us or someone else down the road, I guess it would be respectful.”
Willy nodded at Joe, who put the stuff back into the back and tied it closed. He threw the bag to Willy and went back to searching the trunk. The seven men had enough food to have lasted them at least a week, but something didn’t seem right to Willy.
“Check the gas on those two quads.” He wondered if the men had planned on attacking them at the cave because he didn’t see extra gas containers on the quad that got away and only one five-gallon jug strapped on one of the quads they’d captured. Had they planned on staying in the cave after they’d taken it over? Or maybe they assumed that no one had survived the cold and if there were anyone left they would be easy picking.
Kenny came running up to him, panting and red-faced, he spat out, “They’re both less than half, and the jug we did get is full. What did you want to do with them?”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking,” Charlie asked Willy.
“That would depend. I’m thinking of taking the big one with the trunk and having someone drive Ben, at least until we run out of gas. No way sitting on one of those boney horses is going to help him heal. Journey said if it didn’t heal properly he wouldn't be able to use a rifle, or have a full range of motion in that arm.”
“And we would have someplace to carry what little we have without us packing it.” Charlie stood beside Willy, and they watched the others go through the pockets of the dead men. The pile of belongings the men had carried on their person continued to grow.
“It looks like those guys were carrying an armory around with them. Lucas said there were military ammunition containers in that trunk full of 5.56mm. NATO rounds as well as several bricks of .45 bullets. Where do you think they got them from?”
“Seeing as all of their rifles seem to be M16A2’s I would say they raided a National Guard Armory. You wanna bet those handguns are Colt 1911’s?”
“I am a farmer, not an Army handgun expert. I used to grow grain. When I was in Vietnam in 71, we had plain old military issue M16’s that had none of this fancy fully automatic toy bull crap.”
“Thought you were my age, but I guess some of us age better than others,” Willy laughed.
When they saw the other picking up the rifles and hanging them from their shoulders, Willy yelled down to them, “Put everything on that quad and bring it.”
Matt and Lucas raced to be the first one there, both intent on driving it up. Joe walked over to them and had a conversation. Both boys shook their heads. Joe said something and nodded to the other four-wheeler. He opened the trunk and pulled out a length of hose. He pointed to the gas can and Lucas uncapped it and poured the gas into the tank. He handed the plastic jug to Matt, who carried it to Joe. When he had the gas siphoned from the tank, Joe picked it up and moved it to the quad. Set it on the passenger’s seat and climbed on. He started it and drove up the slope, careful to not spill the gas down the back of him.
“The tank is full and now so is the jug,” he said climbing off the quad.
Matt and Lucas followed Joe up the hill. They both realized that Joe had out-maneuvered them, but neither had wanted to siphon the gas. Kenny and Andy stood at the bottom of the hill, both with their hands resting on their hips. The fire had almost gone out, and neither was sure what they were supposed to be doing next.
“What about them?” Andy hollered up. “We just going to leave them here?”
“What do you think?” Charlie asked. He was going to defer to Willy because his heart had hardened to the men when he saw the bag of chains watches and rings. There were even some gold caps and dental fillings. He wasn’t going to think about how the men had come to have them, but he was okay with leaving the bodies, right where they’d fallen. He didn’t know if any coyotes or wolves had survived, but he hoped they had and would find their next meal laid out like a buffet. Burying them would be too good and a waste of time.
“Any gas left in that last quad?” Willy asked Joe.
“Not much, but a little. There was no room in the jug to completely drain it,” Joe’s tone was defensive, and he looked to his father for support.
“No, that’s fine. Have the guys strip them of their outer clothes and shoes and throw the bodies on the burned quad. We’ll light a fire and send them to hell where they belong.”
Charlie turned to walk down the ill, “That is no job for those youngsters. We may be treating them as adults, but at heart, they’re still boys. I’ll give them a hand.”
“We all will then,” Willy said and hurried to catch up to Charlie.
Chapter Twenty-one
When Wily threw the armload of clothing down in front of Evelyn and Journey, they both stepped back and covered their noses. They both stared at the pile of jackets, shirts, and pants as if Willy had lost his mind.
Joe
and Lucas each carried several pairs of boots tied together by their laces. They dropped them beside the clothes.
Journey kicked at the clothing with her foot, and the stench rose with the movement, and she gagged, “What are we supposed to do with those?”
“Oh, my…you can’t expect us to wash them? Do you?” Evelyn asked. She had her hand over her nose and mouth as if to block the smell and taste of the stench hovering over the pile.
“Not necessarily you, but we need to clean them for future use. We’re not at a point that we can afford to be picky about what we wear. Those jackets will come in handy somewhere along the line, and how many of us have more than one pair of pants?”
Journey groaned in frustration, “If we left them for a minute and watched, those things would probably crawl away on their own. Willy, we have no way to fumigate them. I’m not sure a simple washing would be enough.”
“Maybe not, but we can wash them and lay them out in the sun to dry and repeat until they meet your satisfaction. I know I can use some different clothes and bet some of the others can too. Those Carhart Jackets don’t look like they’ve ever been washed. We won’t be quite so picky if the weather turns cold again.”
“No, I’m sure they haven’t,” Evelyn said her nose wrinkled in disgust. What are you going to do with those boots? Wash them too?”
Willy shrugged, “Hell, I don’t know. Do we have something we can put the things in until we stop because we’re sure wasting daylight jawing about it.”
He looked at Journey, his green eyes flashing, “When we do stop, we need to have a conversation about following orders.”
Beyond the New Horizon: The Last Sun, Page 21