Smith

by Wade Adrian

  Timms sounded confused. “I doubt you could see their eyes from so far away.”

  Morei sighed.

  Smith chuckled a bit. “He means he can’t see them clearly.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Morei didn’t move from his perch. “Shouldn’t you be hiding?”

  Another distant shot rang out, and Timms vanished from the hatch.

  Smith tried to crouch a bit lower. “Anything?”

  “Yeah. I see an owl. Wait, I think it’s plastic.”

  “What happened to you being all serious and composed?”

  “I don’t really care what you think of me, so… there ya go.” Morei shifted the scope around. “Stupid trees…” He sighed. “Need to get closer.”

  “Yeah, I don’t see that being a good idea.”

  “We’re not helping here.”

  “I seem to recall being ordered not to help.”

  Morei glanced aside at Smith. “They can’t order you. You’re a division head.”

  “I’m not sure I like where this train of thought is headed.”

  “You can tell me to help. Conflict of orders, and certainly a demerit for me given that you’re not my commander, but neither is Baron.”

  “This sounds really stupid.”

  “I think you’re right. I should definitely get closer, sir. Your insight and courage under fire is inspiring. You’re a credit to this outfit.” Morei hopped up, slung the rifle onto his shoulder, and started down the ladder.

  Smith sighed. “Well at least I’m inspiring.” He stuffed the box of bullets into his pocket.

  Morei was already heading through the double doors when Smith hit the bottom of the ladder.

  “Son of a bitch…” Smith drew his gun as he ran to keep up.

  Running with a gun was probably a dumb idea, but it was a bit late for that now.

  29

  He caught up to Morei kneeling behind the car out front.

  Smith panted a bit as he collapsed and leaned his back against the car door. “Okay, so, sprinting isn’t really part of my day to day life. Especially not over stacks of books and old junk.”

  “Good day to practice.” Morei bolted, ducking low behind the next car and raising the rifle to get a look through the scope.

  “I don’t get paid enough for this crap.” Smith groaned as he climbed to his feet to follow. He stopped behind the next car. His legs were going to go numb at this rate. “Okay, so… you see anything?”

  “Not really. Need to get closer.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “When we’re close enough to see, I’ll stop.” He stood up and ran for the next car.

  Smith sighed.

  They were half a mile up the street before Morei stopped behind a burnt out sedan on the edge of town. He was looking out into the woods through the rifle scope.

  Smith held his own gun high, peeking over the blackened steel. He tried to keep his voice quiet. “See anything?”

  “I do.”

  Smith rolled his eyes. “Okay, what do you see?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I asked, didn’t I?”

  “I count thirteen perps. Two more I can’t guarantee aren’t the same guy or one of the others wandering around. They have Ross and his people surrounded. I don’t see Baron, but one of his guys is lying on the ground with the scouts. He’s breathing.”

  Smith gulped. “You’re right. I don’t think I wanted to know that.”

  “So far, we’re in the clear. I’m not sure where Baron is, but with luck he still has backup. That makes four of us out here ready to deal with this.”

  “Four. Maybe. Two, guaranteed. Versus potentially fifteen.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, most of them don’t seem to have guns.”

  “Oh, well that’s good.”

  “Unfortunately the two that do have guns have some form of assault rifles.”

  Smith rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I just found a nice place to live, got a roof over my head, a job, and met a nice girl. Now I’m going to die in a gunfight.”

  “I’ll tell them you went out like a boss.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Mmm.” Morei shifted the rifle a bit. “In the future this might give you a greater appreciation for what people do to keep those walls safe.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.” Smith frowned down at his gun. “How often does stuff like this happen?”

  “This is a first. Usually we poke through piles of junk and shoot rabbits.”

  “I… see.”

  “If this shit was normal they’d send us out with rifles, you know?”

  A high pitched whistle pierced the still air, followed by a cry of anguish.

  Smith crept up to look over the burnt out car.

  One of the gunmen was screaming, his right hand pierced by an arrow.

  The other gunman held his weapon up, aiming at the woods, the barrel moving too fast to really sight anything.

  Morei blinked. “Huh. Well, I guess Baron is pretty close.” He settled in against the scope again, his aim adjusting slightly. “So… if this blows up in my face, don’t use it again.”

  “Right.” Smith’s voice was cut off by the rifle’s retort.

  His ears rang for a moment as he shook his head. Burning gunpowder was a familiar smell, though it had been so long since Smith had been this close to a gun that was actually firing that he had forgotten all about the odor.

  Morei hadn’t shifted an inch. “Like this thing.” His voice sounded distant and tinny.

  Another retort, followed by a distant scream.

  Smith tried to cover his ears, but it didn’t help much. “God damn it!”

  Morei shifted a bit, looking out around the front end of the car instead. “Might have some attention now.”

  “You think, Thor, god of thunder?” Smith’s own voice sounded strange to his aching ears as he crawled toward the back end of the car, his relatively tiny gun in hand. A quick glance showed people running toward them, maybe sixty yards out. Most were dressed in little more than rags, clothing long since more holes than cloth. One of them had an assault rifle, but his arm was a bloody mess and he winced with every step. The rest were armed with bats, wood splitting axes, wrenches, and the like. One guy was lugging a hay fork.

  Smith had a hard time counting as everyone was on the move and his head hurt, but they were definitely down a few members. Maybe the others were left behind to watch their prisoners.

  Or they had been shot. That was a distinct possibility.

  An arrow struck one of the attackers toward the rear of the pack in the back. He dropped his axe, both hands flinging to try and reach the arrow behind him.

  Morei’s gun went off again, and twice more in quick succession followed by a much quieter click. “Shit.” His voice was difficult to make out. “Think I’m empty.”

  Smith dug into his pocket for the box of bullets.

  It was the wrong box, of course. .38 special. He set them down and pulled out the other box. .22 LR. He tossed it toward Morei and stood up.

  It was a measured risk… but Morei needed a few moments he wasn’t going to get otherwise. With any luck, the guy with the rifle was in no condition to shoot it. And if he was, well… Smith could always duck back down.

  Hopefully.

  He aimed his revolver with both hands, the way he had been taught a lifetime ago, and pulled the trigger.

  The retort was louder than the ones from Morei’s rifle. Tiny gun, sure. But it had bigger bullets and it was literally in arms reach. It was the recoil that was something of a surprise. The gun jumped much higher than he had expected, and the trigger guard bashed against the knuckle of his middle finger when it jerked back down.

  Smith had other concerns, though. He’d never actually fired a gun at another human being. Since things had fallen apart he had never had ammunition. In the distant past he had only shot at targets and cans. He tried not to think about it.
>
  They clearly wished him and his people harm.

  Just shapes. Moving shapes. Shapes with baseball bats and wrenches.

  He pulled the hammer back and aimed center of mass on the closest one. Nothing fancy. Lots of important things they wouldn’t want bullets intruding upon and nothing but cloth and bones to stop it.

  The trigger was light as a feather the second time, not that it helped much with the recoil or sound. He shifted his aim, not waiting to see the result, and fired again. The single action pull was a lot heavier without the hammer cocked, probably threw his aim off. He pulled the hammer back again as he readjusted.

  All he really wanted to accomplish was buying a bit of time for Morei to reload. The guy had a better gun for this. Well, maybe not at this range. A little closer and his sidearm would do the trick, but how many spare rounds was he carrying for that? He probably had fifty or sixty rounds for the rifle.

  Smith fired again.

  He barely saw the man with the rifle aiming at him in time. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, getting low behind the car and the tire.

  The air was assaulted with loud cracks as the rifle erupted, the car shaking as bullets struck it repeatedly, though sound was all but lost to him.

  Well… at least he had tried.

  He laid low on the pavement and stuck his arm under the car, trying to aim with one eye… he could see feet a lot more clearly than he wanted to. He fired one last time before sitting back up.

  The tiny gun only held five rounds and those were spent. He groped around for the box of bullets with one hand as he flipped the cylinder open with the other.

  The bursts from the assault rifle stopped.

  Everything was eerily quiet for a moment as Smith hit the plunger to remove the spent brass and shoved more rounds in one at a time.

  Another series of short retorts off to his right sounded different. Morei had his sidearm pulled and was leaning on the hood of the car.

  Smith replaced the loaded cylinder and hazarded a glance over the top of the trunk…

  Baron was standing over the gunman, the rifle in his hands as the others stopped between them, hands raised. There were only five left standing, and one by one they knelt, hands on their heads.. Ross and his scouts, as well as the hunters, were not far behind Baron.

  Smith let out a sigh as he slid back down, sitting with his back to the tire.

  Morei shouldered the rifle. “Well, that was fun.” His voice still sounded strange.

  “Fun?” Smith scoffed and rubbed at his ears.

  “Yeah. Got to do some shooting. That’s not every day.”

  “I’m pretty sure they intended to kill us.”

  “Maybe, but we had the better people and gear, so we won. Nothing to fret over.”

  “Bah.” Smith stood up… with some help from the car. “I’ll take quiet over shootouts. Ears are still ringing.”

  “Yeah that will stop… eventually. Maybe.”

  “Great.”

  “Morei?” Ross’ voice called over the echoing noise.

  “Yeah.” Morei yelled back as he slid over the hood of the car and started toward them.

  Smith wanted to punch him. So loud. He wandered around the car and followed, his gun in hand. There were still people here that wanted to kill him. Hell, they probably wanted to now more than ever.

  Baron had the assault rifle trained on the bleeding man below him. “Thought I told you to keep Smith away from this.”

  “You’re welcome.” Morei gave a little bow. “Besides, he helped.”

  Smith waved a bit.

  Baron shook his head.

  Ross had his knife drawn as he approached the captives. “I believe you were saying something about fingers. Let’s follow that train of thought you god damned savages.”

  “Reign it in.” Baron shouldered his new rifle. His quiver was empty. More than a few of the fallen rag people had arrows sticking out of them, typically in their backs. “We’re not here for this.”

  So, they had rounded up Ross’ people. Barron arrived later, tried to get a good angle and assess the situation. Morei and Smith had arrived late but in time to help. They got more attention for using firearms, and drew the hostiles towards them. How well they fired was in question, but Baron and his hunter managed to make use of the distraction anyway. At least, that’s what Smith could reason out as he looked around at the scene. Entirely possible they had been shooting right at Baron, or Ross and his people. Probably dumb on their part. This was why people planned things rather than running around waving guns.

  “What do we do with them?” Smith casually pointed his revolver at the prisoners.

  Ross shook his head. “They’ve seen us. They escape, they’ll follow.”

  Baron looked pensive as he crossed his arms.

  Morei shrugged.

  Smith stared at them for a moment. “You can’t just kill them. They’re people.”

  “People that would do it to us. That were planning to.”

  Smith frowned. “So tie them up in a garage or something when we leave. Gunning them down seems… wrong. They’re at our mercy.”

  Baron tugged on his beard. “Round them up. We’ll be leaving soon either way.”

  Morei prodded one of the fallen with his boot. “They’ll never come here again, that’s for sure.”

  Ross shook his head so hard it looked like it hurt. “No, they’ll come in greater numbers.”

  “What makes you think they have greater numbers? This wasn’t an organized raiding party.”

  “Enough.” Baron yanked an arrow free of one of the dead rag people. “We can discuss this later. Round up whoever is left. We’ll place a watch and discuss it. For now, grab what’s useful.” He cleaned the arrowhead on the corpse’s shirt.

  Ross grumbled as he yanked one of the survivors to his feet.

  30

  They bound the hands of the five that remained upright and shuffled them into the back of an old refrigeration truck. Several of their wounded were moved in as well. None of them had life threatening injuries, though without proper treatment they might get worse. Not that there were any hospitals where they could drop them off.

  Sometimes Smith forgot what the world was like now.

  One of the scouts sat in the front, a tiny window open to allow for air. The back latched shut from the outside and had a bar to keep it closed and locked while making deliveries.

  Ross turned to Morei. “Where did you get that rifle?”

  “Squirrelly guy.”

  The scout division head’s eyebrow crept up even as his eyes narrowed and his head tilted. “What?”

  Baron shook his head. “Local. Apparently a helpful one.”

  Morei nodded. “Yup. Said I could keep it.”

  Smith rolled his eyes. “I don’t think long term ownership came up.”

  “Well, I’ll vote for him to get in if I can keep it.”

  Baron sighed. “It’s not a democracy.”

  Ross still looked thoroughly confused. “This situation seems handled. Lets see to yours.”

  The pharmacy door was closed but unlocked when they returned. Smith held up his hands. “Alright, hold up. He’s seen a few of us, but if we go barging in there like a SWAT team he might run. Morei and I will talk to him, see if we can’t get him to come out. But to make that easier, I say we thin the herd. Have everyone but Baron and Ross… I dunno… take this stuff back to the attic or something.”

  Ross glanced aside at Baron. The hunter shrugged.

  They dispersed their people. Ross’ started transporting the gear while Baron’s split up to look for food. More or less a typical afternoon for them.

  Smith picked up the bell and rang it as he entered. “Hey, Timms? You here? It’s all clear now.”

  Morei glanced around the room. “Thanks for the loan, man. Helped out a bunch. Owe you one.”

  Only silence greeted them.

  The scout tilted his head a bit. “Dude is three miles away by now.”

/>   Smith wandered past the uncharacteristically ordered aisles and pushed open the door to the back room.

  Books still lined the shelves, but it would have been impossible for him to carry them.

  He didn’t see anyone. “Damn.”

  Morei scoffed. “Told you.”

  “Told him what?” The double door opened again.

  Smith turned to see Timms, hand on the door, backpack slung over his shoulder.

  Morei grinned a bit. “Well, look at that. I’m wrong. Guess there’s always a first time.”

  Smith shoved him out of the way. “Hey man. If you’re willing, we’ve got some important types outside willing to talk to you.”

  Timms nodded his shaggy head. “Good. I think this place has been compromised.”

  Morei rubbed at his chin. “I dunno. If I was one of them I’d avoid this place like the plague for a good while.”

  Timms shook his head. “They’re not that logical. They’ll take conflict to mean there’s something of value here and return, even if they don’t return with help.”

  “Well that’s dumb.”

  “True. They are not particularly intelligent. But given this, I think it best to take up your generous offer of sanctuary.”

  Smith nodded. “Cool. Baron and Ross will probably want to speak with you. And we’ve got a few more in town, too. You’ll be safe until we leave.”

  Timms eyed the shelves. “Much as I hate to do so, I certainly can’t take them all. You were trying to tell me that, before.”

  Smith shrugged. “No worries. We’ll clean the shelves and hide away everything we can. We’ll pack that electrical access hatch with books and lock it from the outside. They could burn the place down and not get them.”

  Timms’ eyes shifted about. “Not a bad notion. A few other buildings had similar access panels. They could hold any spillover.” His eyes shifted to Smith. “What would be most useful to take back?”

  “Farming, medical, carpentry, metalworking, defense. Umm…” He tugged on his beard. “I dunno. Anything on raising animals? Maybe?”

  Morei held up a finger. “Survival. Woodland and otherwise. Finding food and shelter, that sort of thing.”

  Smith nodded. “Right.”