by Joseph Storm
“I’ll believe that when I see it!” Xavier said. “And even then...I’ll have my doubts.”
******
Joe ran to Jane, holding her tight. He pressed her against his chest, guarding her from the sight of coming death.
Becky went to offer Joe a goodbye. However, she backed off, allowing him a moment with the lookalike.
The ocean of fire reached the final wrung of forest, as the group was pushed tightly up against each other. Sparks spit onto their skin. The fingers of flames reached out for them, teasing them with pain.
All of a sudden, the clapping of thunder roared through the cloudy sky. Large drops of cold sleet poured from the thick, dark clouds, dousing the raging fire. The water fell with rage, as in mere seconds, they had gone from death’s doorstep to an open path home.
******
Rain covered every inch of the drone, spilling across the camera lens. The screen revealed the small flickering flames of a dying fire. “Son of a bitch!” Commander Xavier yelled.
“We’ve got a problem, sir,” the guard said.
“Tell me something I don’t know!”
“Not just the escape...our visibility is zero.”
“Didn’t you include some sort of radar controlled auto pilot?”
“Yes...it’s supposed to take over. It’s not responding....I’m losing control...flying blind. This is the first official test run!” he yelled, fighting to find a spot of sight. He would finally got a clear view of the drone, which had traveled miles off course. The drone nosedived face first into a tree. Weight and speed caused it to sever the tree in half, crashing deep into the frosty forest. The signal went dead.
“I’m sorry, sir...we’re still trying to exterminate the drone’s problems.” Before he could finish, he was blasted in the head by Commander Sin’s bullet.
“Problem one...exterminated,” Xavier said. He shook his head in disgrace, returning to the radio. “The fugitives are back on the run. Pursue them with every measure...shoot on sight!” He slammed his radio down into the ground.
******
After hiking through the rain-filled night, into the midday, the surviving group arrived at an old burned down shack. Joe Striker looked on it with a smile.
“If this was home, kid...your childhood memories clearly weren’t that fond,” Gunner said.
“No...this was in bad shape even back then. I used to play inside it...pretending I was on the run...hiding out from the bad guys. The fate of the world depended on me,” he said, as memories from his childhood came racing back. He used to run through the house, entertaining himself with few friends around and little to do.
“Not much has changed,” Becky said. She placed a hand on his shoulder, as Jane shot her a dirty look.
“No...and we’re all lucky it didn’t...as this place was more than a play stage. It was a landmark.”
“For what?” Becky asked.
“Our new home.”
They made their way to a nearby towering waterfall. Liquid spilled down black rock into a fresh clear emerald pool.
“Jenny Falls,” Joe said with remembrance in his eyes.
Not only was it the place he proposed to Jenny, but as a young boy, he would swim in the water alone. Although he discovered it with his mother, memories of his independent adventure sailed through his mind. He got lost for a full day, as overwhelming fear had overtaken him. He knew at that moment that two choices were at his feet: panic or overcome. The young boy sent his fear away, calling upon courage. He used the small hand held compass, emulating his mother’s actions.
It took some time, but he figured it out. Joe would need a spot to camp for the night. That’s when he discovered the cavern. It was that sense of independence, which made him a great soldier. The abandoned fear from that day never returned, until he lost his wife. At that moment, it all came rushing back, choking his soul with personal doubt. He knew that the moment in the forest was in front of him again, though he had yet to shake the fear. Joe realized that to lead a rebellion, he would have to shake his doubt and rediscover his courage, or it would all come crashing down.
Joe walked to the backside of the rock structure. He squeezed his way between a tight, concealed, yet accessible fissure.
“That’s a home? Maybe to squirrels and snakes,” Gunner said.
“Is it safe?” Becky asked.
Joe reached his hand up toward Jane, helping her inside. “Thank you,” she told him.
“I guess we’re on our own,” Gunner responded. He slid his way in, flicking the waning fuel-filled lighter. Joe ignited a large peace of wood, creating a makeshift torch. Becky, Father Tyme, Stacey & Robert Yale, Jonah, Julie, and their newborn son entered the cave. They were the only survivors left.
“Wow!” Becky said. “I’ve never seen something so beautiful.”
They entered a series of caverns, which went miles down into the earth. The main chamber was the width of a football field. The flickering firelight exposed tones of gold, brown, and red. An endless array of stalactites, stalagmites, and natural columns of minerals rose from the floors. They also hung from the ceiling like a thousand icicles permanently frozen in time.
A natural, drinkable spring sat in the middle of the room. It consisted of crystal clear water, which mirrored the heavenly reflections above.
“I think I can live here,” Becky said.
“This is where we heal...recover, and form a resistance,” Striker proclaimed.
“Excuse me for asking, but an army consisting of unarmed, untrained civilians, and a little baby?” Robert Yale asked. “We are not soldiers.”
“You are now,” Gunner shouted, harshly patting Yale on the back.
“We’ll find more...in time. People just like us...wondering the woods...lost...desperate. We will offer them a chance at redemption. A chance to join us here...”
“Underground,” Gunner said.
“Yes...an underground,” Joe Striker repeated. “Living...as we will fight. Formed in the shadows to one day appear in the light. Relax, get comfortable. This is going to be your home...for as long as it takes.”
PART III
Chapter Twelve:
The Ambush
DECEMBER 25th, 2034
Ten Years Later
“The plan is final...does everyone understand their instruction? Make loud, fierce noise...as if a pack of animals await them,” a fully bearded Joe Striker said to a group of one-hundred people. Each one sat nervously inside the flame-lit cavern.
Gunner rolled his eyes at the suggestion.
“Yes,” the crowd responded with little enthusiasm and confidence.
“That’s yes, sir!” Gunner called out in frustration. “Haven’t I taught you people anything?”
They responded as unenthusiastically. “Yes, sir.”
“Good luck...and remember...if we fail...the hope of our children fails with us. Prepare yourselves...we move out in five,” Joe Striker told them.
Silence followed the orders. A 37 year-old Joe Striker turned his back on the group, allowing his hopeful demeanor to melt away into one of fear.
Becky Fox, 39, and Gunner Shoman 49, joined his side. “Face it, kid...it didn’t work out as we planned. Most of these people...they’re just not the fighting type. It could end up being a blood bath out there!” Gunner said.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not a kid, anymore?”
“I’m 12 years older...you’re a kid to my old ass.”
“How can they respect me enough to lead them into battle, if my second in command calls me...kid!”
“Relax, kid...I’ll do it quietly! And lead them into battle, you say? In the last ten years, we’ve scraped the forest floor for the pathetic...the weak....who crawled in here looking for shelter. These aren’t warriors...they didn’t sign up to be part of an army! They’re your average moms and dads...throw in a few teens and pre-teens, and you’re left with nothing but a PTA meeting.”
“You think like such a
....man! Everything or nothing at all! What do you expect him to do?” Becky asked. “He has no other choice...we have no other choice. Do we just hide in here forever?”
“Listen, Gunner. We have no ammo or weapons. If we don’t make a move on that arsenal...we might as well just turn ourselves in. Our country with it!” Striker said.
“What country? We’ve barely seen the light of day...not to mention the state of the world these days. As far as we know...the people love them...and accept the thugs. If you think we can just walk on in...and overtake a trained force with sharpened sticks, and thrown rocks...you’ve got another thing coming.”
“We have the blue prints...and the guards’ schedule. Now is the moment. Besides...I’m counting on our sheer numbers to buy us time...until we can get to those weapons.”
“Either way, boys...now is not the time to fight. Not in front of the others....not before we all risk our lives. We need to stick together...not come apart,” Becky begged.
“Oh...we’ll stick together all right. I just hope it’s not death which does it,” Gunner proclaimed, as he moved towards the exit.
Joe Striker looked back over the crowd of ragged, every day citizens. “He’s right,” Joe said to Becky. “No matter what I keep telling myself...the numbers and quality didn’t come like I hoped.”
“This is the best...maybe the only chance we’re ever going to have. This is for your son...for your wife,” she told him. “You’re so close...don’t give up now.”
“Becky...I know I haven’t exactly been appreciative for all your support...but...if for some reason we never make it back. If for some reason, I never get the chance to thank you for always being there...”
Jane came sliding through the tight entranceway to the cavern, interrupting their conversation. “Are we ready to go?”
“One moment,” Joe told her, as she gave them an inch of space.
“Where does she go? She just disappears sometimes,” Becky asked.
“We all need a little time alone,” Joe said, as if he didn’t know himself.
Joe looked back at Becky, as she spoke up. “Joe, no thanks needed...you know how complements make me uncomfortable. At this point...we’re family,” Becky assured him.
“I still think you should stay here...out of harms way. All the women and children to be exact.”
“We’re a part of this resistance as well...our freedom and rights at stake every bit as much as yours. And frankly...some of us women...have bigger balls than others in this place,” she said, staring over at Robert Yale. “You’d be surprised what a girl can do when her life is at risk,” Becky said, trying to hide a grave look upon her face.
“Well...for what it’s worth...we’re going to need all the balls we can get,” he said, as the group of one hundred men, women, and children lined up. Each of them held primitive weapons of sticks and stones. They hoped that their overwhelming numbers and diversion plan would allow them to not fight at all.
“All women and children in the back! Stay close to us at all times,” Joe Striker called out. They made their way through the exit. The moment they had been waiting for, which seemed like an eternity, had finally arrived.
Ten years had passed since they tool refuge in the cave, fourteen since the government had taken power.
Although it took time, the group settled into their new home. They were grateful to be sheltered from the harsh winter snow, and strong summer sun. Task groups formed, everyone separating into an area, which housed their strengths. The hunter teams would collect long wood sticks, carving sharp, spearlike heads on them. Sling shots were also assembled, using the creek beds of stones to gather natural ammo. If everything went according to plan, the weapons would be more of a threat, than a reality. However, there was no guarantee of that.
In time, traps were set from excess clothes and materials. Each person donated something for the cause. Striker and Gunner dug large pits, placing sharp spears, facing upward from down below. They would cover the pits by tying the clothes together, laying them across the hole, and covering it with debris. Deer would make their way through the forest, falling into the trap, and becoming dinner. Trout, venison, bass, and wild turkey were the meals of choice. The deer and turkey meat was dried out, using salt that was brought from stragglers. It was prepared for the winter months of animal hibernation.
The nurturers took care of preparing the meals, gathering fresh water, and patching up the cuts. They raised the aging group of youth who the passing years. They also washed the clothes, as each person only had a few outfits to recycle per week.
Lit fires kept them warm in the winter. The natural cool draft of the cave cooled them in the summer. Bathrooms were designated in the deeper parts of the caves. Lines of holes were dug, and groupings of natural stone lay around to cover the waste up. Leaves were collected and dried for a rather uncomfortable toilet paper.
Patrols were sent out each day to seek lost or desperate people, who could be wandering the woods. Each person was instructed to listen closely, avoiding the barks of dogs. The sounds stayed loud and close, never quite finding the cave area. However, it didn’t stop them from continuing the search for the entire decade.
With every new person, more information was gathered. The most important was Ray Park, a black man, security guard for a weapons arsenal hidden deep in the local woods. There were many of these unspoken sites across the United States, waiting to be tapped. The administration used American security guards to help transition the new guard, promising them benefits which never came.
“Can you locate it from here?” Joe Striker asked him.
“Brother, not only can I locate it...I lifted the blueprints from the desk of the asshole that canned me. Along with a bunch more crap. I figured...they ruined my life...I’d ruin theirs!”
Ray Park handed over the papers, as Striker opened them up. They possessed the exact coordinates, which would lead the way. The large, perfectly round building resembled the tower of a castle, with spindling stairs, and two floors full of weapons. There were even rumors of suitcase nukes.
Striker focused on an escape hatch, which was clearly labeled. Most importantly, it led to an underground entrance. If the arsenal was ever under attack, or had a uranium leak, this was the route the personnel would take. The hatch was just outside the gates, but would have to be blown open.
The group managed to send spies into the closest town, raiding an abandoned fireworks store, which still possessed some of its merchandise. All the gunpowder that could be carried was grabbed. There would be two explosions, one set off at the front by Ray Park. All other firepower would be used to blow the hatch. After that, they would happily ditch their primitive sticks for real weapons, overtaking the arsenal.
Upon examining the other papers, Striker discovered something even more valuable than the blue prints. It was the work schedules and guard shifts. The late night shift switched out at 2 A.M. on the dot, offering five less guards than the other shifts. It left a gap at the back entrance; one that Joe Striker was determined to exploit.
As each member slowly trickled in, the process of training began. Each person that was old enough to function, received a spear. Gunner trained each one in hand to hand combat, making easy defeats out of them all.
Joe Striker pulled him aside. “Go easier on these people. They aren’t cops and soldiers...most of them are civilians.”
“Do you want untrained civilians fighting alongside you?” Gunner asked him.
Joe hesitated to answer. “No.”
“Then that’s exactly what we need to do...turn each one of them into a soldier or cop. Forget your congressman days...you know better, kid.”
“I want people who know the basic tactics of combat. You can’t beat them to the ground and expect them not to quit. They just don’t have the mentality we do.”
“In battle...fists outweigh mentality. They either rise to the challenge or die. You’re one person I shouldn’t have to remind of that.”
&nb
sp; “Continue training,” Joe said. “I just hope they don’t all go AWOL. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
“Kid...if they give up that easy...you better hope they quit,” he said, rejoining the hand to hand combat. It didn’t matter if it was a man, woman, or teenager, Gunner didn’t go easy on them.
Joe watched Gunner charge Robert Yale with the spear. The man froze in fright, being mowed down to the ground. “If you think this is bad...just wait!” Gunner yelled out to the group. “Again!” he yelled, as the pacifist, ex-college professor, apprehensively rose back to his feet. The same process continued with the same result.
Striker shook his head in doubt, looking away in shame.
When they weren’t training and planning, there was a lot of down time to partake in personal relationships.
The mysterious bond between Joe and Jane only grew greater with each day. The similarities only drew Striker to his wife’s lookalike with more intensity. One night, while everyone was asleep, they made love in one of the springs, in the depths of the cave.
Jane was the first person that Joe had been with since his wife, as their first time resembled anything but sex. Instead, it merely extended the lovemaking that he once experienced with Jenny.
He roamed her body as if finely sculpting a masterwork of art, tracing the smooth skin as if smearing a creamy body of clay. Every move was slow and deliberate. They were thoughtfully planned out to bring her pleasure, not even thinking of himself. Chills shot through Jane’s body, as Joe studied every inch of the woman before him. He knew the familiar details which mapped her skin, as if God had reused the mold for Jenny Striker.
Her perky B cups, elongated neck, and ultra white teeth all combined to bring him to another world. It was one in which the replica Jenny completely replaced the old one. Joe tightened, releasing with all his might, as years of pent up pleasure relieved itself. He collapsed upon her chest, gripping tightly, as if she would soon disappear from his sight.
“Jenny,” he said.
“I’m here,” Jane repeated, not correcting his mistake. “I want to know everything about you...your past, your thoughts, your innermost secrets.”