by John Grit
APOCALYPSE LAW 3
By
John Grit
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©2012 by John Grit
All rights reserved.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Cover photo © 2012. Image from Bigstock.com by Lawrence Mundy
Edited by Judith Reveal @ Just Creative Writing & Indexing Services
From the Author
I advise any reader who has not read Apocalypse Law 1 and 2 to do so before reading this third book in the series. Exposition is not a good thing in fiction writing and even worse is the fact those who have read Apocalypse Law 1 and 2 will be bored reading back story that they already know. For this reason, I have not included much explanation of what happened in the first two books and this third installment in the series is not a standalone book. This book starts out in the same scene where Apocalypse Law 2 ends, just before the National Guard team leaves Mel’s survivalist retreat and takes two wounded women to a military hospital. In the following prologue, some explanation of the first two books is included, but this in no way substitutes for reading the series in sequence. I have included a list of characters that appear in previous books in the back so readers will know who characters are referring to when they mention a character from a previous book.
I hope you enjoy Apocalypse Law 3.
John Grit
Prologue
Apocalypse Law 1
A plague wipes out ninety-five percent of the world's population, taking Nate Williams' wife and daughter and leaving him with his thirteen-year-old son to survive on their farm. In the bedlam of lawlessness and starvation, hungry, desperate men arrive from the nearest town to take their meager supplies. A benevolent stranger keeps coming in the night to steal food. Sensing the stranger means no harm, Nate leaves food out as charity. But the stranger ignores offers to join them, and then comes to their aid when a gang of prison escapees, led by an old nemesis of Nate's, raids their home. In the end, it is the kindness of a father desperate to save his son that may give two families and the stranger an opportunity to build a new life in a post-apocalypse world.
Apocalypse Law 2
A plague of mysterious origin has swept around the world, killing most of the human population. An ex-Ranger and his thirteen-year-old son are left alone on their farm with no government to rely on. They have taken in refugees, so they may all have a better chance to survive. Together, they farm the land and struggle to feed themselves while guarding against murderous raiders who choose to take from others rather than work for survival. Personal bonds are steeled in a post-apocalyptic world where a friend is defended with your life, a foe fought to the death, and refusing to be a victim demands killing without hesitation.
A son must rely on his father to build a new moral compass in a land of violence. "Dad and I don't quit on each other, and we don't quit on our friends." But despite best efforts, some are lost and others grievously wounded. Their farm is in danger and they face starvation without it.
Chapter 1
Nate Williams could not remember how many men he had killed in the last few weeks. While he, his son, and friends were fighting off one group of raiders in an effort to keep them away from his farm, another group came in from another direction and took all of his food.
“Well,” the Colonel asked, “how many?” He stood there in his National Guard uniform looking like he was cool and comfortable in the Florida heat and humidity.
“I wasn’t keeping count,” Nate said. “And I don’t want to guess.” Irritation over the question added to the discomfort of the heat.
The Colonel looked at him, his eyes unblinking. “Hmm.”
Anger flared in Nate’s eyes. “I know how many of my friends died. And that little girl’s parents. And Caroline’s husband and baby. And probably Carrie’s family. But she’s not talking. All murdered at the hands of trash taking advantage of the chaos and lack of law enforcement.”
The Colonel continued to look at Nate with unblinking eyes. “Maybe you should get with your new sheriff and do something about that.”
Nate glared back at him. “I think I have been doing my part.”
“The sheriff could use another deputy. He seems to be in over his head in more ways than one.”
“And who is going to work my farm? I have people to feed, including myself. I already have a full time job. It’s called staying alive.”
They were interrupted when Caroline cussed the soldiers as they carried her out of the bunker on a stretcher and past Nate and the Colonel. “I’m not leaving without the M-4.” She tried to get off the stretcher, but found she was too weak.
Nate wished she had not said that. The M-4 was government property, taken off a dead man who must have stolen it from a National Guard armory, or perhaps a dead soldier.
The Colonel looked away, pretending he did not hear.
Mel stood by with a smirk on his face, saying nothing. His uniform was not as clean as the Colonel’s, and his face was darkened with two day’s growth. Still, he stood straight and had an air of professionalism about him. No one ever found his enthusiasm lacking, and he was always fun to be around, no matter how bad things got.
Colonel Joe Greene had thrown the rule book away soon after everything went to hell. The Colonel was a practical man who believed in getting things done as efficiently as possible. When Mel shot a man not long after the plague first hit Florida more than a year ago, the man complained from a stretcher while being treated. Colonel Greene did not bother to look at him when he said, “You pointed a gun at one of my soldiers and you got shot. Stop whining.” Colonel Greene walked far enough away the man could not hear and called Mel over. “The next time you shoot one of these bastards, kill him. I can’t stand wasting medical supplies and creating more trouble for our overworked combat docs on trash that our country is better off without. If people have to die let it be the scum, so the good people will have a better chance. They have enough problems without having to deal with brigands.”
Nate walked alongside the stretcher and looked down at Caroline. “Concentrate on getting well.” Nate hesitated. “You may not want to come back here. Who knows? Things may be better where you’re going.” She reached up, and they shook hands. Nate said, “You have helped us a lot, and you’re welcome here anytime. Good luck.”
“I will come back if I can,” Caroline said. “I don’t have anyone else, after they killed my family. Take care.”
Mel and Nate left the Colonel to help load Caroline on the helicopter. Deni was already onboard. She was unconscious again from her wounds, so Nate and the others had not been able to say good-bye to her. Mel told the two soldiers who carried Caroline to get on board and ran back to the Colonel. “Ready to lift off, sir.”
Nate stayed in the helicopter a few minutes to check on Deni and Caroline once more. He asked the doctor, “What are her chances?”
She knew he was asking about Deni. “I have no way of knowing. I can tell you she is stable at the moment.”
Nate swallowed and nodded. He said good-bye to Caroline once more, and then ran back to Mel and the Colonel.
The Colonel reached out and shook Nate’s hand. “Good luck to you. We’ll take good care of the ladies and have them back here soon.” He cleared his throat. Well…the civilian anyway. The soldier will have to report to the Army—what’s left of it.”
“I’m sure they will understand she was stuck here after everything went to hell,” Nate said. “She was on leave and couldn’t get back.”
The Colonel nodde
d. “Good luck.” He ran for the helicopter.
Nate watched the National Guard helicopter lift off. Backwash from its blades blew debris in his face. He turned and saw his son, Brian, holding his boonie hat on and squinting, as he watched Deni and Caroline being taken away. They needed medical care, but Nate could see that Brian was already missing Deni and Caroline both.
“How long do you think it will be before they come back?” Brian kept looking, as the helicopter grew smaller.
Nate looked at his thirteen-year-old son. “I don’t know. Deni is AWOL, and the Army may not let her come back.” He noticed the reaction on Brian’s face. “She’s looking for her fiancé too, remember. So if she can, she might try to find him in South Carolina. Or was it North Carolina?”
Brian did not answer. The helicopter was no longer visible, but he was still looking at the horizon.
“Come on,” Nate said, “let’s go inside and get our packs and guns. They went inside the bunker and filled their canteens.
Carrie sat in a corner. Her eyes were wide, and she trembled.
Nate walked up to the fifteen-year-old. “They are taking Caroline and Deni to a hospital. The Colonel promised he would get Caroline back here after she has recovered…if she wants to come back.” He took a step closer. Carrie cowered in the corner and pushed herself against the concrete wall. Nate sighed. “Now look, you’ve been with us long enough to know no one is going to hurt you. Caroline not being here changes nothing. She may have been the closest to you, but she was not the reason we never hurt you like those men did. We never hurt you, because we do not want to. You’re just as safe now as you were when Caroline was here.”
“He’s telling you the truth,” Martha said. “There is no need to be afraid.” The strain of losing her husband, Ben, still showed on her face, but it did not stop her from caring about Carrie’s problems. “It’s not like you are alone with men now. Cindy and I are still here.”
“Yeah,” Cindy said. “Mom and I will take care of you.”
Nate put his load-bearing harness and pack on. “There will not be any men here for a while. Brian and I are going to try to get some of our stuff back. The raiders left it strung out on the road in pickups.”
Martha nodded. “Be careful.”
Nate saw the strain on her face. She still had not had time to come to terms with the loss of her husband. “The Guard is going to give us a chopper ride and let us pick out what’s ours.”
Mel stood by the door, watching. Sweat appeared in rivulets from under his helmet and down his dirty face. “We need to be out of here.”
Brian had his pack on in seconds and grabbed an AR-15 off the gun rack. He stuffed four magazines in a load-bearing harness. “I’m ready.” He handed his father the M-14.
Nate took it and walked out the door.
“How long are you going to be gone?” Martha asked.
“Not sure,” Nate said, yelling over his shoulder. “It’s going to be a big job hauling all that stuff back to the farm. I hope we can commandeer a truck if there is one still running. Keep your eyes open while we’re gone. There could still be a few of those killers around.”
Before Nate got far, little three-year-old Synthia ran out after him and wrapped her arms around his leg.
“Go back inside,” Nate said. He picked her up and carried her back into the bunker. “I’ll be back soon.”
Cindy took her and held her so she could not run back out.
Mel ran to the waiting helicopter and talked to an officer standing next to it.
Nate walked by Brian. “Let’s go.”
Mel was with a Lieutenant when Nate and Brian walked up, their rifles in hand.
The Lieutenant shook his head and pointed. “No guns. Leave them here.”
Mel spoke up. “I’ve known both of them for years. They know how to handle weapons. I’m sure Colonel Greene understood they would be armed.”
The Lieutenant’s voice bellowed. “Colonel Greene left me in charge before leaving in the other chopper. I don’t need any civilians shooting their guns off in my Huey!”
“Lieutenant,” Mel said, “Nate has more combat experience than our entire company. Hell, Brian has more time under fire than any of us did until it hit the fan.”
Nate removed his rifle’s magazine and deftly ejected the round in the chamber into his waiting hand, pocketing it. He left the bolt locked back, the chamber empty.
Brian copied him. Even though he had little experience with an AR-15, he was nearly as quick and sure as his father.
Nate stared at the Lieutenant.
The Lieutenant nodded and stepped up into the helicopter.
Nate helped Brian get onboard and saw to it he was seated where the flight would not seem so scary. This would be Brian’s first helicopter ride. Nate sat next to him, across from the Lieutenant.
Mel sat by a door next to the Lieutenant. There was a smile on his face. He knew Nate was carrying a .45ACP pistol cocked and locked. The Lieutenant never noticed it.
Four more soldiers scrambled onboard and sat down. All the soldiers kept their carbines pointed down at the floor, where a bullet would do the least damage to the aircraft if there happened to be a negligent discharge. The pilot started the engine, got the overhead propeller spinning at high speed, and pulled pitch out of the small meadow. The helicopter almost instantly lifted above the treetops. He must have been in more of a hurry than the Lieutenant for some reason.
Brian swallowed, his eyes rounded. He looked at his smiling father.
Nate winked at him. “The pilot’s a hotdog.” He yelled above the roar of the engine. “Relax and enjoy the ride. It’s good training for a kid that wants to be a jetfighter pilot someday.”
The pilot decided to fly down the river valley. He cut hard to the right, following a sharp bend in the river, then the left.
Brian’s knuckles were white from grasping the metal bench he sat on.
The Lieutenant held on with both hands. “Shoemaker.” He yelled into a microphone. “Stop that bullshit now! This thing has not had full maintenance in months. Treat it like a baby.”
The pilot spoke into his microphone, “Yes sir.” He pulled out of the river valley, above the tallest trees, and flew level, heading straight to the dirt road.
Mel laughed when he saw the relief on Brian’s face. “I guess we won’t need a barf bag after all.” He winked at Nate.
Nate looked at his son, who was being uncharacteristically quiet. “He looks okay to me.”
Brian looked at Mel and all the soldiers in the helicopter. “Of course I’m okay. What makes you think I’m not? Someone should have taught the idiot up front how to fly, though.”
The Lieutenant laughed. Everyone in the helicopter was laughing. The pilot heard through his earphones. He looked back and smiled.
When the dirt road came into view, Nate looked out the open door and recognized two trucks he knew were loaded with their stolen property. The trucks were burned-out hulls.
Brian saw disappointment on his father’s face, though he could not see out the door from where he sat.
Nate yelled over at the Lieutenant and Mel. “This is it.”
The Lieutenant spoke into his microphone. “Find a place to land.”
The pilot flew on, following the road. The trees were too close to the narrow road for him to land there, and there was a power line running down the left side of the road.
Nate looked out the door, searching for a truck that looked like it might still be in running condition. They flew over a two-ton flatbed truck that had a flat tire but looked undamaged otherwise. Nate looked it over as best he could.
The pilot flared the craft up to slow down, and then lowered to the road.
Dust billowed up and swirled as soldiers rushed out and ran, forming a defensive perimeter.
Nate jumped out and waited for Brian. “Follow me.”
Brian ran a few yards behind his father, keeping bent over out of fear of the overhead prop. His father sto
pped and looked in the cab of the two-ton truck.
A dead man’s body leaned over the steering wheel.
Nate checked for tripwires searching for booby traps. He found none. One hard pull and the body spilled out onto the dirt road. Nate stepped around him and found the key still in the ignition. He looked over the load on the flatbed. “None of this stuff is ours, but we need the truck if it will run.”
Brian read a label on the fuel tank’s fill cap. “It’s a diesel, so it might not run too rough.”
Nate searched every inch of the truck for any sign of a booby trap. After checking the hood for tripwires, he lifted it and looked over the engine. He then crawled under the truck and searched underneath. “Get back over where Mel is until I get it cranked.”
“What’s the point?” Brian stood by the open truck door and looked up at his father.
Nate pointed. “Get over there.”
Brian ran over to Mel. “How long does he think I would live without him, anyway? If it blows up we’re both dead.”
Mel said nothing. He pulled Brian behind the now silent helicopter for cover. “He checked it good. He’ll be okay.”
Brian glared at Mel. “Yeah. Don’t be pulling me around like that.”
Mel listened, waiting for the sound of the truck starter.
Nate climbed up into the driver’s seat. The battery was nearly dead, but he managed to get it cranked just before it gave out. He kept the engine revved up to charge the battery.
Brian ran over and looked up at his father. “What about the stuff that’s not ours?”
Nate opened the door and jumped down. “We’ll unload it. But first we need to find our stuff.”
Yelling from down the road attracted Nate’s attention.
The Lieutenant barked orders, his face showing alarm. Soldiers got into firing position, aiming at a line of vehicles racing toward them, snaking around many abandoned trucks in the road.
Leading the caravan was a white four-wheel-drive pickup with red lights on top. The driver brought it to a skidding stop three hundred yards away. When it came to rest it was turned sideways, and a large star could be seen. The word Sherriff was under the star in reflective silver paint. Four more similarly marked pickups raced up behind him. Farther back, civilian pickups loaded with men, rifles, and shotguns, pointed toward Nate, Brian, and the soldiers. There were too many pickups to count, and the line stretched around a curve in the dirt road. The men spilled out of the trucks and lined up, some finding cover, others stupidly standing in the open.