The Scott Pfeiffer Story (Book 2): Sheol

by Woods, Shane

  “With the amount of effort and manpower it took to get them out before,” I countered, “I’d rather not do all that again. They’re going to get in one way or the other, but I’d rather not encourage a mass migration to move in.”

  At that moment, Rich returned to the command meeting room, hints of blood spatter on his face.

  “Rich, you got red on you,” I stated as the others laughed uneasily. “I want you to find any way you can to make the area around our base impassible. And I want it done today. Take all the people you need, y’all are the only ones outside of our gates until this is over anyway. Do what you can. Block roadways, topple buildings, whatever you need.”

  “Got it,” Rich agreed and started ordering people to go with him.

  “The rest of you, and those working with Rich,” I issued, “get together with others. All children, and those not able to effectively hold and fire a rifle, will be on boats going up the river this evening. The rest of you are to remain armed, and on full standby until the threat is clear or a resolution is met. Rich, do you need anything else?”

  “Henry’s gotta finish the gun mount and install it,” he explained, “other than that I’m ready to rock and roll.”

  “Henry, get working on that,” I began, “take a young’un to help you. The rest of you have things to do, why are you still standing here. LET’S MOVE PEOPLE!”

  The entire room emptied in record time and left just a few of us.

  “Tony, you’re head of security here,” I scolded, “why the fuck are you still sitting there?”

  “Oh, I didn’t know you meant me,” he said sheepishly and began to leave.

  “Rob and Ryan, my two R’s,” I called into the room behind me, “twenty-four seven full monitoring. Grab some coffee or plan out shifts but neither of you leave that room. Where’s Hannah?”

  “She was listening from the doorway,” Jennifer explained, “but she left when you mentioned the disabled and kids leaving.”

  I pinched my nose between my fingers and sighed.

  “Okay. I’ll get her rounded up,” I stated as I rose to leave my seat.

  “Hannah?” I called as I left the command area and entered the hallway.

  I received no response. Where could she have gone?

  “Hannah?” I called out again, more sharply this time as I walked into our apartment. Still nothing.

  I checked through our kitchen, dining, and living areas. All empty.

  “Scott?” came Jennifer’s voice from the door. “I found her. You, uh, you need to come here.”

  I sighed heavily and followed my wife out of the apartment and down to the end of the hallway. Whatever this was, I didn’t need it, and didn’t have time for it. But when did I ever need, or have time for, any of this? I should be on my ass at work, cruising down the interstate eating cheap roller grill food and wondering where the union is going to stick their willy on us next.

  Actually, I’d really rather be dealing with the unions. Useless, neutered, and giving out more concessions than an average little league game, but at least they weren’t trying to eat us, shoot us, or do any of the other new bad experiences we’d been dealing with thus far.

  Jennifer opened the doorway to the single staircase leading to the roof and motioned toward the back of the space, where I found Hannah behind a stack of cooking supplies.

  The girl had sat on the floor, her knees drawn up tight to her chest and her arms encircling them. I couldn’t quite tell, but she seemed to be crying. Great. I knelt down next to her, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

  “I’m not leaving,” she said defiantly.

  “A lot of people are, Hannah, and it’s not for good,” I assuaged. “We’ll be back. I promise. But it’s going to be incredibly dangerous here and we don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “This is home now.” She tightened her arms around her legs and placed her chin on top of the whole mess.

  “Yeah, mine too, which is why it’s going to be pretty nasty here if we need to defend it,” I explained. “Possibly, even more dangerous than the world outside the gates. We don’t know what they could be capable of doing. Hannah, hun, they could level these very buildings. We just don’t know.”

  “Your people saved me, and you made it comfortable for me,” she reminded me. “You set it up so I would be safe and not have to be scared anymore.”

  Just then my radio crackled to inform me that all three of our boats had departed, and more were on their way down from the Hashman compound.

  “I want you on one of those next boats, Hannah,” I explained. “If I have to carry you myself. Think of it as a vacation. Hashman’s compound is still safe. This one isn’t for the time being.”

  “But what if you don’t come back?” she cried out. “What if you get killed?”

  “Kiddo,” I began, “it’s going to take a whole lot more than they’ve got to kill me. But, regardless, I want you safe, and you’re going to be safe. I trust Hashman with my life. Actually, I have once or twice already. I’ll send orders with you that you are his personal responsibility.”

  “I…I don’t know…” she began.

  “I do. Get up,” I said firmly as I took her hand, feeling her momentarily recoil before relenting.

  I brought the young girl into my arms and embraced her in a hug, kissing the top of her head as I did so.

  “You know kid,” I reminded, “you might just be worrying over nothing. Best case, the Colonel decides it isn’t worth it and leaves us alone, and y’all are just buying us some space and time to bolster our defenses. You could actually just be going on a vacation.”

  “Vacations are for sightseers,” she replied with no enthusiasm, “just be okay, okay?”

  “Promise,” I assured her as I led her hand to Jennifer’s. “Next boat. I want both of you on it.”

  “I love you,” Jennifer said as she took her own place in my arms, giving me a kiss and holding tight. I tried to break the hug and she still held fast for just another moment before ending the embrace. “Come say bye to Gwen?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed and followed the pair of them down the hallway and into the stairwell. About halfway down, we were forced to hug the wall as Henry and one of the older teenage boys passed by, carrying some big wrought-iron contraption and panting heavily, followed by two more teens carrying large cardboard boxes and breathing just as hard. Even in the cool air of the overcast day, they were sweating as they made their trek up the tight stairwell, and instead of his usual jovial banter, I was met with one a wide-eyed nod from our long-time friend and old neighbor.

  “You have to promise me you’ll be okay,” Jennifer demanded after they had passed, and we renewed our descent.

  “You know me, wife,” I reminded her.

  “Exactly,” she semi-scolded. “Which is why I’m worried. You need to be damn careful. Promise me.”

  I was just about to let a quip fly when I glanced and saw the single tear streaming from her eye. I decided to rethink my response, and instead, merely took her hand in mine and squeezed.

  “I promise, I will be careful,” I assured her.

  She replied no more, and we wordlessly made our way down the rest of the stairs, guiding Hannah the whole way and walking her over the uneven ground as we exited the building.

  About halfway there, we met Carolyn with the last half-dozen children on their way to the boats to be ferried upriver.

  Of course, little Gwen was on the edge of the pack, keeping a watchful eye on her surroundings. Hey bright blue eyes blazed with joy when they saw us approaching.

  “Mommy! Daddy!” she squealed as she broke from the small group and made a beeline straight for us, toddler run in full stride and arms out. She met me first and I scooped her up, smiling despite the world at her happy giggles.

  “We were waiting,” Carolyn’s heavy French-Canadian accent informed me. “She kept asking for her parents, we waited.”

  “I’m glad,” I said as I squeezed my daughter tight and sp
oke only to her, “I love you baby.”

  “Love Daddy,” she replied before stretching her arms to her mother, who accepted her readily.

  “Take care of the kids just as you would here,” I instructed Carolyn. “Hashman will make sure you have what you need.”

  I gave Hannah one last hug and led her hand to Carolyn’s as she replied in the affirmative, then did the same for Jennifer and Gwen.

  Jennifer’s eyes welled with tears as she gave me one more solid hug, followed by three kisses. Our thing for many years. Three quick kisses, I, love, and you.

  “Scott…” she began.

  “Nope,” I stopped her short, “I’ll be coming back to get you guys soon enough. You go. Make sure everyone’s okay. We’ll, uh, well, we’ll hold down the fort. Literally, I guess.”

  Radio chatter began as I looked past Jennifer’s shoulders and saw three more boats pulling in, these ones offloading men and supplies before they were even thoroughly moored on the shore. The heavy loads they carried left them to anchor a little offshore on the river, forcing men to wade back and forth.

  Dave and Tony guided small groups of men from place to place as Tony stood with his hands on his hips and Dave passed crates and boxes from the shore to different people.

  “There’s your ride,” I motioned, cutting the emotional departure short, implementing the band-aid method as I was known to do.

  Jennifer released her grasp and took Gwen’s little hand as they both turned. She looked once over her shoulder, followed by Gwen, and I gave them a wave. Maybe a final wave.

  Jennifer returned it, and Gwen stretched her free hand out at the realization that Dad’s not coming. The tears breaking her eyes threatened to infect my own as Carolyn took the outstretched hand and garnered the girl’s attention.

  I watched as Rich appeared from his in-ground armory and stopped the group one final time to wish Carolyn goodbye. They hadn’t seemed to be the closest couple, especially not since Rich had elected to move to the armory and Carolyn resided in the main building, but in the following moment, they appeared inseparable as they shared a goodbye embrace.

  I hadn’t even had time to process the tear dripping from Carolyn’s nose as my radio began chattering.

  “Go for Scott,” I instructed.

  “Look up,” was the single command spoken by Henry, followed by a late and rushed, “Over!”

  I craned my neck skyward to see the recognizable barrel of the M240 machine gun protruding from over the edge of the Eighth Floor balcony closest to our inner entryway to the main compound.

  “We’re all set up, my brother,” Henry spoke into his radio as he beamed down from above, the corners of his mouth almost actually touching each ear, “Over!”

  “Now we need somebody with machine gun experience to run it. Looks good. Over,” I replied.

  With not another word said, Ash’s grinning round face appeared over the balcony and waved down to me.

  “I’ve got it, mate!” he shouted.

  I grinned and shook my head as they disappeared from view.

  “Nice!” Rich said as he joined me, taking me by surprise. “Roads are all being blocked; we’ll leave one way in and I’m decorating that with explosives.”

  He motioned to a nearby pickup truck. The bed of the vehicle was loaded with a few of the old large oil drums he’d used before, as well as a row of large water-cooler jugs filled with some kind of material or substance I couldn’t quite make out at this distance.

  “Blocked?” I asked, wondering what and how, and trying to get my mind to cycle up to speed again.

  “Yup,” he assured. “Dumpsters with the wheels cut off once they’re in place, couple semi-trailers with the tires shot out. One road had houses real close to the curb so we’re just going to push them with that old bulldozer and the excavator and fill the rest of the gap with abandoned cars.”

  “And you said you’re leaving one area open but rigging it?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he continued, “but, uh, you’re going to want to wait a bit after everything is over before you try driving through.”

  “To disable whatever explosives?” I surmised.

  “And rebuild the roadbed,” he explained. “Their vehicles are pretty heavy; if we remove all the dirt under the concrete, put in a few two-by-four’s for support, light vehicles should be okay but the second anything heavier goes over it…”

  He splayed his palms vertically and then pushed them down to emulate the roadway collapsing,

  “Think it’ll be enough?” I asked.

  “Should be,” He said thoughtfully. “If it’s done deep and long enough, it should be able to trap or disable a vehicle, I don’t see why not.”

  “Those barrels,” I motioned, “is that like before? When you helped with the school?”

  “Kind of, but each one is a smaller bomb,” he said, “and instead of a ‘Wrinkle Free’ setting, they’re each wired to a sensor.”

  “A sensor?” I asked, wondering where he’d found something like that.

  “They each have their own battery,” he continued, “and each one is set to either a mouse trap or a couple of nails attached to a clothes pin. They can be set up so if anything drives over them or anyone steps on one, it completes the circuit long enough to set the explosive off.”

  “That’s fucking genius,” I exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “The mouse trap ones are easier,” he kept on. “Once they’re tripped the circuit doesn’t shut down, so it’ll power a heater coil inside the bomb until it heats and blows up, or the battery goes dead.”

  “Put one where you dig out the roadbed,” I suggested, “so when it collapses, it triggers it and makes their situation even worse.”

  We kept talking, and as we did, the morbidity crept on me. We were sitting in what used to be a relatively okay neighborhood. It was once an amazing place to raise a family, then worse over time as the area changed, but it was still never anything less than decent. Until now, that is.

  Now, most of its inhabitants were dead or gone, and we’d commandeered the entire corner of a neighborhood and were setting traps to kill other human beings. Six months prior, when and where we stood, someone was probably pulling into their apartment to enjoy the comforts of home. Now their home was a battle-ready fortress.

  Rich broke our conversation to listen to his radio and issue a reply, after which we wordlessly said goodbye for now as he left to go handle the next stage of preparations.

  Not one to ever seemingly be allowed to be left alone, Dave joined my walk into the main building.

  “All the kids and people who can’t fight are accounted for,” he informed me. “All on their way to Hashman’s.”

  Henry and his small crew were just leaving the front of the building and met us on our way in before we could continue.

  “Henry! All good here?” I asked.

  “Oh yes sir, we all the way good brother.” He beamed again, proud of himself. “What’s next?”

  “What’s next is the waterway.” I motioned across the river to our north and west. “Whatever you can put between the water and the land, I want it figured out and done now. They came by water before. Let’s make that more difficult.”

  “You got it, my friend.” He nodded and began talking to his team to gather their materials before he even gained a full scope of the situation.

  “Where’s Tony?” I asked Dave as we made our way into the North Building.

  “He ‘went to help with the transplants’ at Hashman’s,” he issued, putting air quotes around Tony’s words.

  “What the fuck?” I asked, shocked and more than a little angry. “They’ve got plenty of fucking people, why the fuck would he leave when we need him?”

  Dave merely shrugged and broke into full-bore bitching about Tony and his work ethic, or lack thereof, and calling him every name he could think of. Okay, so it looks like I may be keeping them on separate duties, at least for a while. Sure seemed like Dave could use the
break, and I fretted to hear what Tony would say in return. But right now? Yeah, not exactly what we needed at the moment.

  I made it to my office on the ninth floor just in time to start cursing about my own issues that never seemed to cease, but my words were directed at the source.

  “What the ever-loving fuck are you still doing here? The last boat is gone! Where’s Hannah, where’s Gwen?” I demanded.

  “They’re safe, they’re on the boat and going with Carolyn to the other compound,” Jennifer assured. “Look, I knew you were going to be mad-”

  “You’re fucking right I’m mad, dude what the hell are you doing?” I yelled at my wife, my voice reaching a crescendo. “Do you not understand what’s about to happen here? Or that the girls need you?”

  “You need me too and I’m not leaving your side,” she shot back. “Who’s going to make sure you keep your promise to be careful anyway? Dave?”

  “I’m not in this!” Dave exclaimed, putting his hands up and departing hastily.

  “What the fuck, woman?” I scolded her again, then, relented, “I’m not going to do this right now.”

  “Guys?” called Ryan’s voice from the next room. “Scott? Hey this isn’t good.”

  A radio message that seemed live was just beginning its repeat as we entered the room.

  “-Colonel Parker with the United States Government. Scott Pfeiffer, we have your daughter. We have your friends. We are calling for your peaceful surrender. How copy? Over.”

  “I want confirmation on his claims,” I snarled, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “Raise the last boat on their private channel. NOW!”

  “That’s the thing,” Ryan stated flatly, “I can’t”

  “Give me the radio,” I nearly growled as I snatched it from his grasp and immediately keyed it in reply, “Colonel. I want proof. Over.”

  “Oh, why hello, Scott!” he cooed cheerily. “Proof? She was on the last boat, correct? Little blonde haired toddler; my is she just simply adorable!”

  “Proof, you cocksucker, or I bring a fight right to your doorstep, right fucking now.”

  “Scott?” Carolyn’s accent sobbed through the radio. “Scott, is true, he took the last boat, I could not do a thing! I’m sorry.”