His Name Was Zach (Book 2): Her Name Was Abby

by Martuneac, Peter

  The cold night air bothered the rebel fighters as they waited, though they dressed warmly. The temperature dipped into the low 20’s, and every now and then Abby would notice Hiamovi and the others next to her attempt to rub some warmth into their arms and legs. She felt chilled as well, but her walk across America in the dead of winter had hardened her to frigid conditions. She did, however, crave a cigarette, but she knew that the glow from a lit cigarette could be seen by somebody with night-vision goggles from far away.

  In the stillness of the pre-dawn hours, they heard the vehicles before they saw them. The convoy was proceeding in blackout mode, meaning their headlights were switched off. Soon, six vehicles came into sight and drew near to the ambush point, unaware of the danger in which they would soon find themselves. Abby and Hiamovi tensed up and aimed their rifles at the road, ensuring their spare magazines were ready at hand.

  The convoy approached at a steady pace with regular spacing between the vehicles, moving along at about forty or fifty miles per hour. Abby felt a prick of fear in her spine as she wondered if Dustin would be able to time the signal well enough to destroy the lead vehicle. He was the hinge on which turned the success of the entire ambush. If he failed, several people would die.

  Less than a quarter mile separated the lead vehicle from the precise point of ambush, which was an old car on the right side of the road, facing towards the city with its left side doors hanging open. Hundreds of pounds of homemade explosives sat inside the car, packed into the fuel cans Dustin and his group had brought, and leaving the doors open like that turned it into one big directional fragmentation charge. This would direct the entire blast into the side of the lead vehicle, and was the most lethal kind of low-tech bomb any insurgency could create.

  The lead vehicle suddenly sped up and separated itself from the truck behind it. The driver must have sensed something was amiss with that car to his right and wanted to get past it as quickly as—

  BOOM!

  Dustin detonated the improvised explosive device inside the vehicle by tugging on the pull cord that had been affixed to the trigger mechanism. The car erupted in a ball of white and orange flame and lit the road with a rusty, hazy hue. The lead vehicle, despite its tons of heavy armor, flipped up into the air like a toy and landed upside-down. The occupants were dead before the Humvee even stopped skidding along the blacktop.

  Immediately after the explosion, one of the men in the group across from Abby and Hiamovi, which was a good deal closer to the road, rose from his hidden position, hefted a LAAW rocket launcher onto his shoulder, and sighted in on the rear vehicle, another armored Humvee. He depressed the pressure switch on top of the tube, and the rocket exploded out from its home, tearing through the air with a wicked roar.

  It had almost gone perfectly. The lead vehicle was destroyed and blocked the road, and blowing up the rear vehicle would trap the entire convoy. But the driver of the rear vehicle reacted almost as soon as the car-bomb exploded, pulling the wheel sharply to the left to get off the road. The man firing the rocket had expected the driver to slam on his brakes like the other vehicles, and so the rocket missed its target.

  But there was no turning back now. The ambush was on, and so every fighter opened fire on the convoy. The assault force began to bound forward, one group of four running forward while the other group of four laid down cover fire, and vice versa. But despite the element of surprise, the ambushers soon found themselves in a bind.

  The driver of the middle vehicle in the convoy, another Humvee, had pulled off to the right side of the road once he noticed the rear vehicle had gone left. This gave the convoy two .50 caliber M2 machine guns with which to engage the enemy, one on each side, and they were pounding away at the rebels. Their night vision and infra-red laser targeting equipment allowed them to fire as precisely as if it was noon on a cloudless day. The men in the other vehicles had all dismounted and taken up positions, and they too were shooting.

  The group across from Abby and Hiamovi took the brunt of the initial counterattack, and three of them had already been killed. The assaulting force was now being assaulted as they hunkered down, getting as low to the ground as they could while Abby and Hiamovi’s group took sustained fire from the middle Humvee.

  Two from the assaulting force were shot, bringing their total numbers down to eleven. Abby and Hiamovi continued to fire, but separately they began to panic. Their ammo was already running low, and those machine guns were tearing up their comrades. Bullets snapped above and beside them, others impacted the ground in front of them, showering the terrified young rebels in dirt. Then the woman next to them took a bullet to the throat, the .50 caliber round almost obliterating her neck completely. She didn’t even have the time to cry out.

  Abby looked from the dead woman to Hiamovi, who returned her glance. The fear in their eyes was palpable. Hector had been right, Abby thought. This was no place for sixteen and seventeen year olds. And now it seemed they were about to pay for their arrogance with their lives.

  But none of that mattered right now. They were still in the thick of a gun fight, and it wasn’t over yet. After a moment of weakness, Abby and Hiamovi both returned their attention to the convoy in front of them and resumed firing.

  The tide of battle is fickle, and just as quickly as the convoy had gained the upper hand, so did the rebels reclaim the advantage. Both machine gunners dropped dead into their Humvees at almost the same instant, finally brought down by rifle fire. Another man inside the Humvee nearest to Abby got up into the turret, but she had been expecting that and brought him down before he could even grab hold of the machine gun.

  “Come on!” she shouted as she vaulted up from the ground and charged towards the gunfire. With their dwindling numbers and ammunition, she sensed that the critical moment of the ambush had arrived, and if they were going to prevent any soldiers from escaping, either with any supplies or word of what had happened, then her group needed to get closer to the action.

  Hiamovi and the other man did not hesitate to follow Abby’s lead. They leapt to their feet and followed behind, firing a shot every few moments as they advanced, whooping and hollering out a war cry.

  The driver of the middle Humvee, now the sole occupant, saw them coming. He tried to turn around, but the large vehicle was not made for tight maneuvering. Realizing this, he gave up on his hopes of escape and dismounted from the vehicle with his rifle, taking up a position behind the armored door, sighting in on the girl that was advancing towards him.

  Hiamovi slid on the slick grass to one knee and took aim at the soldier, squeezing off a three-round burst. The man ducked back behind the door, abandoning his chance at a shot.

  At that moment, the assaulting force had finished off the remainder of the soldiers and advanced up to the convoy. The driver hiding behind the door, now the sole survivor, was unaware of the rebels flanking his position, and he never heard the gunshot that killed him.

  “Clear!” Dustin shouted, as he passed through what remained of the convoy, ensuring that all the soldiers and agents were dead.

  “Is that it?” Abby asked through labored breaths. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, and the fight had ended just as abruptly as it had begun. She felt like she had missed something, but she supposed that that’s just how gunfights usually went. And that’s when Abby realized that, though she’d been in countless dangerous situations, this was the first time she’d taken part in a pitched battle.

  “No. Now we get the hell out of here,” Dustin said as he pulled a body out of one of the flatbed trucks. He then gave orders to quickly strip the soldiers of their weapons, ammo, and night vision goggles.

  “What about our guys?” Abby asked, sweeping a hand out towards the field where four of their group lay dead.

  “We leave ‘em. They knew the risks,” Dustin replied. “Now let’s go. DAS will be here soon and we have to be very long gone by then.”

  Abby didn’t protest further, though she did not much agree with
that decision. It felt wrong to leave their comrades behind like that, but Dustin was right. The DAS would be swooping in soon, and it made no sense to get themselves killed along with those who were already dead. She hopped up into the flatbed that Dustin was going to drive, and Hiamovi came with her. The rest of the group got into the two other flatbeds and drove off the road, taking another road that led them east-south-east.

  Just as the soldiers had done before, the rebels drove without headlights, their road being lit first by the still burning car bomb and then by the light of the moon, thought the latter was now setting in anticipation of the sun. They drove not far before Dustin pulled his vehicle to a stop in the middle of a subdivision near the city limits. Everyone got out of the vehicles quickly and began to grab crates of ammunition, rifles, and other equipment while Dustin walked into one of the houses next to the trucks. Once inside, he produced a small brass key from his pocket and unlocked a door that led down to a cellar. It was here that he directed the group to deposit everything from the trucks.

  The haul was impressive: M4, M14, and even some SCAR-17 rifles, M9 and M1911 handguns, dozens of crates each containing a thousand rounds of ammo, M203 grenade launchers with well over one hundred 40mm high-explosive, dual-purpose rounds, night vision goggles and thermal vision optics, hand grenades, rockets, C4 explosives, and even ceramic armor plates and plate carriers.

  The group of eleven worked as fast as they could, and they managed to unload all three trucks in the space of a quarter of an hour, just as they heard the thrumming of helicopters to the northwest.

  “Come on, come on! Almost finished!” Dustin said to the group. He’d locked the cellar door and shepherded the group into the trucks. He led them out of the subdivision and down the road, reaching another location just a minute’s drive away: a large, open building that apparently used to be a repair shop for large vehicles like school buses and semis. It was into this repair garage they drove all three vehicles, closing the doors behind them.

  With the stolen goods hidden and the vehicles abandoned, Dustin ordered the group to split up and take separate paths back to their homes. It was darker now than it had been during the night, for the moon was now gone but the sun had not yet risen. They went in pairs, except for Dustin, who headed out on his own.

  Abby and Hiamovi struck out together, making their way further southeast at first before taking a more northerly course back towards the city. They still did not speak, not daring to make any more noise than necessary or to jinx themselves with a premature celebration. More than once, the drumming of a helicopter grew louder, and they had to duck into the closest building for cover before moving forward again.

  The coming of the sun made their return trip yet more dangerous, as they were still a ways from home. Abby and Hiamovi did their best to keep themselves inconspicuous, lost in the dilapidated urban sprawl of the capital city. Moving house to house, block by block, not daring to expose themselves for more than a minute at a time, this last leg of their journey was agonizingly slow.

  But they made it. Just after noon they evaded a patrol that was searching city outskirts, slipped past a guard post, and made their way back into District 2, where they headed straight for Abby’s apartment.

  “Don’t you want to get home?” Abby asked once she had locked her door and flung herself on her couch.

  “In a minute,” Hiamovi replied, joining Abby. “I’m a little scared to face Granddad.”

  “Sooner is probably better than later.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. I just… what a night.”

  “Yeah.”

  The fear of capture and adrenaline from the ambush had both worn off by now, and exhaustion set in, physically and mentally. Abby and Hiamovi were brave young people, and the circumstances of their lives had forced them to mature much faster than people their age a decade ago. But they were still just teenagers, and the near death experiences of the ambush weighed on their minds.

  “We are so boyfriend and girlfriend now,” Abby said, breaking the silence that had stretched between them.

  “Huh?”

  Abby turned to look into Hiamovi’s dark eyes as a silver tear clung to her eyelashes. “I’ve been shot at before. A lot. And I’ve been scared of dying before. A lot, again. But last night was different. I wasn’t afraid I’d die. I was scared that you would.”

  Hiamovi paused to collect his thoughts, but only for a moment. “I think I felt the same thing, Abby. When you charged the convoy, I didn’t follow because I’m brave or was itching for a closer fight. I followed so you wouldn’t be the only target in the field. I’d rather get gunned down myself than see the same happen to you.”

  Abby scooted closer to Hiamovi and ran her hand through his hair. Timidly at first, then more boldly, she leaned in to kiss him.

  “Hiamovi! Open this door, I know you’re in there!”

  Hector’s voice boomed through the front door of Abby’s apartment. Hiamovi sighed and stood up. He trudged over to the door and pulled it open to face the deepest scowl he’d ever seen in his grandfather’s face.

  “I—“ Hiamovi began, but a slap from Hector cut him off.

  “That’s for disobeying your grandfather, your elder! For not even bidding an old man goodbye as you foolishly chased after battle. For forcing upon me a sleepless night, beleaguered by visions of my dead or dying grandson squirming in a pool of his own blood. For every second I’ve spent in the last day believing that the last of my family, the last of our long and storied lineage, was gone forever.”

  Hiamovi hung his head in shame, no longer able to meet his granddad’s eyes. He had not thought about the risks he took the previous night in those terms. He understood the risk of dying, but like most young folks had not considered the big picture, nor the true consequences of his actions.

  Hector lifted his grandson’s chin with his hand. “And this,” he whispered, “is for coming back to me alive.” He wrapped his burly arms around Hiamovi, prompting his grandson to return the gesture, and they held each other tight for several seconds as both the elder man and the young one fought back tears.

  “I’m sorry, Granddad.”

  “I know, Hiamovi. I forgive you.”

  “Are you still angry?”

  “No. The time for anger has passed. In fact, I daresay I am proud of you. Dustin came to me this morning, and he told me that you and Abby both showed valor surpassing expectations for fighters your age.”

  Abby rose from the couch now, where she had sat in awkward silence as Hiamovi was at once berated and then embraced by his grandfather. “I’m sorry too, sir.”

  “It is alright. You two share a kindred spirit, fueled by a fiery passion. I should have expected you to run off against my wishes. In fact, perhaps it is time the two of you assumed a more active role in the resistance, since you’ve proven yourselves capable. Though I ask only that you at least inform me when you’re going off on a mission.”

  Hector smiled as he said this, expecting a jubilant reaction from the young rebels. But his offer was met with nervous glances exchanged between Abby and Hiamovi.

  “Thank you, Granddad,” Hiamovi began, “but we can’t accept that offer. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Oh?” inquired Hector.

  “Last night was Hell,” Abby said. “I don’t think we’ll be thirsting for more of that any time soon.”

  “It was a lot more terrifying and much less glorious than we expected,” Hiamovi added.

  “Very well,” said Hector, nodding his head. “I am surprised, but proud. I think you’ve both made a wise and mature decision. Did you talk about this before I came down here?”

  “No,” came the simultaneous response from both Abby and Hiamovi.

  “So a single glance between the two of you sufficed to reach a decision together?”

  “I guess so,” Abby said.

  Hector smiled. “Are you sure you’re not dating?”

  Hiamovi looked to Abby. “I think we are now.”

 
“Good,” Hector said. “You both deserve the best, and you’ve found that in each other.”

  Abby and Hiamovi gave sheepish smiles at each other, but said nothing.

  “Now come along, Hiamovi,” Hector said as he stepped back into the hallway. “I expect our entire apartment to be cleaned top to bottom by sundown.”

  “By myself?” Hiamovi asked.

  “You did not think you were getting off that easy, did you?” Hector chuckled. “I’ll give you two the privacy to say goodbye, but hurry along.”

  Hiamovi sighed as Hector walked off, and he looked to Abby.

  “Ooooh, you’re in trooouble!” Abby teased.

  “Oh shut up,” Hiamovi laughed. He put a hand behind Abby’s head and kissed her.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Abby asked when their lips parted.

  “Seems that way. I’ll come visit you at work.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I’ll have the non-phallic pancakes this time.”

  “No promises,” Abby said with a giggle.

  They kissed one more time, and Hiamovi left, shutting the door behind him.

  Now alone for the first time that day, Abby allowed herself a big, goofy grin. Hiamovi made her happy, and it seemed like her life was finally beginning to gain some semblance of normalcy. Well, not counting the whole ‘fighting a guerilla war against a powerful government’ gig, but she figured that this was normal for some people even before The Crisis, too.

  All at once, Abby’s smile was flipped as her happy thoughts were invaded by dark memories. That feeling of normalcy? She’d felt that at Little America, right before Henry reappeared and destroyed the entire town, which he never would have been able to do if she had just allowed Zach to kill him, who himself died because Abby couldn’t hack it by herself. Imagine what Zach’s last thoughts must have been, staring down the barrel of a gun held by the same girl who got him bit, knowing he’d have been better off had he never saved her in the first place.