by Bowman, Dave
Jerking away from the well, he heaved and staggered away, fighting back the urge to vomit.
Floating in the water at the bottom of the well was a severed human arm.
15
“Everyone get down!”
Nick raised his rifle, aimed at the slope above them, and hit the safety. He fired, gritting his teeth. Everyone around him scurried to take cover and draw their own weapons.
Time seemed to slow down for Jessa. While Nick was firing his first shot, Jessa drew her rifle, tucking it securely into her shoulder. She opened the truck door and crouched behind it to take cover.
She spotted two men on the slope at the opposite end of the valley. They were shooting from behind two boulders just off the road. She got one of the men in her sights, exhaled, and pulled the trigger.
She heard movement all around her as the others took cover behind the truck. Soon, shots were being fired all around, though she didn’t know who was shooting. She kept pulling that trigger, but her target was far away and well covered. She missed over and over.
One of his shots came close to her and struck the road just ten feet away. She returned the fire.
“One’s down,” Nick called from somewhere to her side.
Her eyes flashed to the man a few yards away from her own target. He had been hit and lay sprawled out on the ground. She returned her focus to her own target and fired again.
Suddenly, he disappeared. She blinked and scanned the area. But he was gone, having retreated in a backward crawl and disappearing from her sight.
She didn’t dare take her eyes from the area. Holding her breath, she waited and listened. Finally, an unseen engine started, filling the valley with the sound of a vehicle speeding away.
“Damn it,” she muttered.
She swept her eyes over the slope, combing the ridge for any movement. She glanced quickly at Nick, and he did the same.
“He got away,” Charlie said bitterly.
Jessa exhaled and lowered her rifle after she was sure he was correct. There were no other shooters on the ridge.
She looked around to see that Charlie, Liz and Matt had drawn their weapons and fired from behind the vehicles. Bethany, Trina, and Mia had taken cover by crouching down behind Nick’s truck.
“It was only two of them,” Liz breathed, lowering her rifle and hitting the safety with shaking hands.
“Nick got one of them,” Matt said. “I don’t know how you got him. He was so far away and so hidden behind that big rock.”
Nick shielded his eyes from the sun to look at the body lying on the ridge across from them. He wiped away the beads of sweat forming on his hairline.
“The other one got away,” he said. “He’ll go back to report to whoever’s in charge of this operation, and then they’ll send more people out here.”
He looked toward the mountains to the north. A tense silence fell over the group for a moment.
“I guess it’s pretty clear they were gang members,” Jessa said, breaking the quiet. “And now they know where to find us.”
“Do you think they were waiting for us on that ridge?” Bethany asked as she rose to her feet with Nick’s help.
“None of us heard their vehicle drive up,” Nick said. “So they must have been hidden up there somewhere, just waiting for us to pass by.”
Charlie kicked the dirt in frustration, then grimaced when his injured shoulder was jostled. “Damn them! Why don’t they leave us alone?”
“We humiliated them,” Jessa said, dusting off her jeans from where she had crouched in the dirt. “We took out a lot of their men. Now someone has to save face by putting an end to us.”
Liz stared at her with an open mouth. “How can you be so nonchalant about it?”
“I’m not saying they’re going to succeed,” Jessa replied. “Just what they’re attempting. But the question is, how can we continue forward in this direction if they send reinforcements now?”
Nick reached into the cargo bed of the Ford truck and grabbed Bethany’s suitcase. Before leaving Texas, she had filled it with supplies she would need when she went into labor.
“We have no choice,” he said. “We have to keep going.”
He carried the suitcase to Jessa’s truck and placed it in the cargo bed.
“What are you doing?” Trina asked, eyeing him as he moved.
“We’re leaving the Ford behind,” he said, focused on his task. “We need the gas.”
Jessa slung her rifle over her shoulder. “I’ll siphon it from the tank,” she volunteered, grabbing the transfer pump Matt had brought.
“Maybe we’ll have some time before that guy gets back to the BSC headquarters,” Bethany suggested hopefully. She moved her hand to her belly, feeling the baby kicking.
“I hope so,” Charlie said. “But maybe he doesn’t have to go all the way back to Denver. Maybe those gang members are stationed all over these mountains, just waiting for us to appear.”
He shuddered as he considered it. Then he began to help Nick transfer the gear. From the pile of supplies in the bed of the pickup, he dug out a sleeping bag, an inflatable camping mattress, a small tent, a tarp, Nick’s toolbox. Liz and Trina helped carry the items to Jessa’s truck.
“I just think this is a bad idea,” Trina said. “We’re driving straight into enemy territory. It’s crazy. They’ll just be waiting for us.”
Jessa sighed. “Unless you forgot to tell us about your superhuman strength, no one’s moving the boulders off the road back at the landslide. So this is the only way.”
Jessa looked at Nick, who was eyeing the roof of the Forest Service truck.
“I’ve got some ratchet straps,” she offered.
He nodded, digging them out of the backseat where she directed him.
“I’ll have to tie the straps through the rear windows,” he said. “And we won’t be able to open the rear doors.”
Liz felt her throat tighten. The back seat would feel even more confining without doors that opened.
“Go for it,” Jessa said. “We’ll find another vehicle and more gas somewhere along the way.”
Mia watched the adults hurry around. It didn’t seem like a good time to ask Nick about carrying a gun. Everyone was trying to get to New Mexico as quickly as possible. Delaying them was the last thing she wanted. She tried to stay out of their way as they moved the gear around.
Matt felt a lump in his throat as he grabbed a box of emergency gear his father had packed. He lifted it out of the cargo bed as he watched everyone empty the belongings from his dad’s maroon F-150. His dad had loved this truck, and now they were leaving it shot up and abandoned on the side of the road.
It seemed Matt was drifting farther and farther from his old life and everything he had known. The Ford truck had been something familiar from the his old life, and it hurt to let it go. But at least he had his Uncle Nick. At least he had one family member. That was something that none of the others had, he realized. He was grateful for that blessing, at least.
“So we’re just going head-first into a trap?” Trina asked, handing Nick a bag to tie to the roof of the Chevy.
Nick didn’t answer.
“Are we totally sure that there’s no other way? Should we look at the map again?” Trina asked.
Nick reached inside his jacket pocket and retrieved the map. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “See for yourself.”
Trina looked at him, then down at the map. She took it and walked to the hood of the truck where she spread it out and studied it for a few moments. Jessa began to transfer the gas to the other two trucks while the others finished moving the gear.
Trina sighed and folded the map again.
“Are you finished?” Nick asked.
Trina nodded. “I’m finished. And you’re right – there’s no other way. At least, not on the map.”
“What are you saying?” Charlie asked as he wedged a duffel bag in between some boxes in the back of the Chevy.
“There could
easily be a small road that’s not on the map,” Trina said as she handed the map to Nick. “We might find something as we’re driving.”
“Sounds like a good way to get lost,” Charlie said. “Then we’d really be screwed.”
“Let’s just play it by ear,” Jessa said. “If we have to stop to hunt, then a little back road might be a good idea.”
Nick nodded in agreement. “Our goal is to clear out of this whole area before nightfall. If we’re lucky, we’ll make it far enough south that we’ll be in the clear. Then we can find some empty houses or businesses to look for food.”
“And if we’re not lucky?” Trina asked.
“Just keep your guns on you at all times,” Nick said flatly. “Stay awake and alert.”
Trina sighed and muttered under her breath as she crossed the distance to the truck.
“I just hope we make it out of here alive.”
No one heard Trina but Mia, who nervously watched the adults prepare for the journey. The more she watched them, the more she realized that most of them were just as afraid as she was.
16
Daniel fell into the patchy grass, coughing and gasping for air.
He had just caught a glimpse of the arm as the flashlight beam brought it into light, but the gruesome image was seared in his brain.
It was an adult arm. It had been sawed off at the shoulder. It floated in the well, all blanched white and bloated from the water.
He knew it hadn’t been in the well when he had fetched water earlier. He would have noticed the smell and seen the debris floating in the water. No, this was new.
He pulled at his jacket collar, struggling to breathe. It wasn’t just the nausea that made him ill. It was the knowledge that someone had tried to hurt him and his mother. Someone must have thrown it in the well while he had been hunting.
He groaned, thinking of the bucket of water inside the house that he had almost used to cook with for himself and his mother.
His hunch that they weren’t alone in the town had been correct after all. Had some survivor in this empty town tried to kill Anne and Daniel with contaminated water? Or was their intention merely to drive them off?
Whatever their intentions, however many of them there were, they did not wish the mother and son well.
And who was the unlucky person without an arm? Daniel guessed the survivors had sawed the appendage off some corpse they found, a victim of the Hosta virus. But the act in question was so perverse that there was no way to know what he was dealing with.
Pulling himself to his feet, Daniel glanced up at the empty houses all around him. His shotgun was still slung over his shoulder. He pulled it around now, raising it as he scanned the streets for any sign of movement.
Daniel didn’t believe in spirits, but his mother was right about one thing.
They needed to leave this town.
He moved close to the house, staying against the exterior walls to gain as much cover as possible. He swept his eyes from side to side, moving his gaze over the run-down adobe and concrete shacks and houses across the street and down the road. He scanned over the abandoned jalopies, the dried-up flower beds, the scattered bits of garbage and kids’ toys.
Daniel moved around to the side and back of the house, straining to see in the darkened windows of the neighboring homes. He paused and listened, gripping his shotgun. He inched forward just a bit at a time, using his peripheral vision to see in all directions without moving his head.
There was no movement, no sound. Everything looked just as it had before: empty.
His fear began to turn to rage. Some sick individuals were toying with him. They had done a hideous thing – they had poisoned his and his mother’s water supply. And now they were too cowardly to show their faces. He imagined one or two people cowering behind a window, watching Daniel’s movements the past few days.
Their cowardice and cruelty disgusted him. If they hadn’t wanted Daniel and Anne in their town, that was one thing. Daniel would have accepted being asked to leave, had they asked. But to try to spook them off – or worse, kill them – with this sick stunt, was depraved.
He had half a mind to search for those responsible for the poisoned well. He could go door to door until he found them. He could make them sorry. But his mother was all that mattered. Her gut instinct had been right, and he needed to get her to a peaceful place where she could recover.
He charged into the house, closing the door and locking it behind him. He found his mother in the bedroom. She held a sweater in her hands, frozen in mid-movement. She looked up at him with wide eyes.
“It’s time to leave,” he said, grabbing a stack of folded clothes and stuffing them in a duffel bag. “Right now.”
She blinked, then pushed herself to action. Gathering the last of their things into their bags, they were ready in a few moments. Anne followed Daniel to the front door, asking questions along the way.
“What is it, Daniel?” she asked nervously. “What happened?”
“You were right. This is a bad place, Mom,” he said. “And it’s not because of spirits. There are some hostile people here. And they want us to leave.”
Anne’s brow furrowed. “Hostile people? How do you know? Did you see someone?”
“It’s the well. They poisoned it.”
Anne’s eyes went wide as they flew over Daniel’s face, examining him. “Are you sick?”
“I’m fine, I haven’t had any since they contaminated the well. They must have done it last night. They threw a – uh, I’ll tell you later. We just need to go now.”
She nodded, still frowning and worried. “I’m ready.”
“Wait here while I take this out to the truck,” he instructed her, letting go of her hands and slipping out the door.
He threw the bags into the bed of the pickup and scanned the area once more. There was still no sign of anyone in the town. But someone was out there. Someone sick enough to poison the well. And they must have done it just a few hours before. They were probably watching him even now.
He backed up to the front door and opened it, keeping his eyes on the empty streets.
“Let’s go.”
He escorted her to the truck and helped her climb in, then closed her door. Hurrying around to the driver’s side, he set the gun in his lap as he climbed in. The old truck started without a problem, and he shifted the manual transmission in reverse to back out of the driveway.
Daniel threw one last glance at the old adobe house. He was glad to be leaving. His set his focus on the road out of town, shifted into first gear, and stepped on the gas.
One block down the dirt road, he blinked.
“What’s that?” his mother asked, craning her neck to see up ahead. “There’s something in the street.”
His eyelid twitched. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
Someone was standing in the middle of the road.
17
A tall, wiry man of about thirty sat in a luxury hotel room, studying the map laid out before him on the desk. He pushed it away, standing up and walking over to the window to look out from his second-story window. He missed the view from the penthouse, but he had better things to do than climb twenty flights of stairs every day. The second story would have to do.
He regarded the downtown buildings and the park adjacent to the hotel. A lot of the neighborhood had burned, and the buildings were charred. At night, what had once been the glistening, sleek center of a thriving metropolis was now dark.
But to Bobby, the scene wasn’t one of ruin, but of opportunity.
The Bridge Street Crew was named after some neighborhood in Los Angeles. It was a tame-sounding name, quickly shortened to the BSC, but he didn’t think about that much anymore. Names didn’t mean too much, but action meant everything. And the BSC had quickly proven themselves to be the toughest gang around.
When some BSC members started jumping parole in California and moving out to Denver, his big brother Randy was at the right place
at the right time. Randy and Bobby were mostly raised by their mom, who was too drunk most of the time to keep track of the boys. When Dad came around, things were even worse. Violence was something they grew up on, became accustomed to. The two brothers started hanging out on the streets more and more, and they found a family in the BSC they’d never had at home.
Randy first started running with some BSC members at the age of thirteen. By the time Bobby was twelve, he was joining his big brother on drug deals and small thefts. The two brothers worked their way up the ranks through their teen years, doing bigger jobs and gaining the trust of the higher-ups. The brothers grew a reputation as two guys who would do anything to prove themselves.
Several years before the Hosta outbreak, when the BSC was battling their rival, Los Pumas, the brothers led an attack that ended with over twenty Pumas dead. Randy and Bobby were promoted again. When the head of the BSC was taken out by a Pumas member seeking vengeance, Randy took over.
Together, Randy and Bobby orchestrated a massive attack on their rivals, crippling them and taking out several of their leaders. Then Los Pumas counterattacked. It was all-out warfare between the two gangs for years. Denver Police tried to stop them. But the gangs overwhelmed them, and things spun out of control.
The virus changed everything. It decimated the numbers of the Pumas, but the BSC was devastated as well. Everything was crumbling.
When Randy died from the Hosta, Bobby didn’t have much time to mourn. As the new leader of what was left of the BSC, he had to step up to plate.
While people all over were dying, Bobby got organized. He had his surviving members meet to discuss the future. The first priority was taking over resources and expanding the territory. Now, not only would the BSC have to defend themselves and their possessions, but they would have to worry about having enough food, gas, and other supplies.
The second priority was recruitment. With the city falling into chaos and uncertainty, Bobby was surprised that more survivors of the virus didn’t willingly join the BSC for protection. It helped a little when the gang took over all the supermarkets, gun stores, gas stations, car lots, big box stores, and office buildings. People started to go hungry and had no choice but to join up with the gang.