Fighting Rough

by Ryan Westfield

If he stayed to fight, it meant relying on his own abilities. And Johnson’s. And frankly, he didn’t put much trust in either.

  No, he wouldn’t fight. He’d do the cowardly thing. The smart thing.

  He’d save his own life.

  Holding his rifle in one hand, Josh dashed out from behind the tree, running away from Johnson and the enemies. His legs were so cold, he worried he wouldn’t be able to actually run very fast. But he warmed up as he ran.

  With each breath he took, and each step, he expected to feel the bullet that would kill him.

  But nothing happened. No bullet found him.

  He ran and he ran, until he couldn’t run anymore.

  He ran until he couldn’t hear the gunshots.

  He’d left it all behind.

  He didn’t know if Johnson had survived. Probably not, though. He was kind of a moron, always making mistakes with simple chores back at the compound. They were only friends out of desperation and nothing more. Lack of better company, to put it nicely.

  The snow was falling fast and heavy. His boots made tracks in the snow.

  What should he do now?

  Exhausted, he sat down in the snow, not caring if he got snow on the seat of his pants.

  Should he return to the compound?

  Probably.

  Probably Johnson was dead, and wouldn’t be able to tell anyone that Josh had fled, rather than fought.

  But Josh still hadn’t found Max’s camp. He couldn’t return to the compound empty-handed, without any information.

  Though the thought of trudging on, and probably getting killed for it, didn’t seem appealing in any sense.

  He didn’t want to get shot just to find out where Max’s camp was. What was the point of it all? Josh didn’t see any personal benefit to it. It just seemed like they’d be helping the militia and Josh would get nothing in return. He’d still be eating the same food day in and day out, not to mention freezing his ass off every night and day.

  What if he just made up the information? Told them a spot on the map that seemed likely. That would work until they sent the attack party out. Then again, maybe they’d just think Max and his group had moved on, rather than blaming Josh for lying. But, no, that wouldn’t work because there wouldn’t be any signs of a campground. When the attack party eventually came back to the compound, disappointed, they’d know who to blame.

  And they’d probably kill him.

  There wasn’t any good way out.

  But at least he wasn’t going to die right then and there, like Johnson probably had, riddled with bullets.

  The woods were large, and he felt safe there in the snow.

  He gazed out at the calm, peaceful woods. Before the EMP, this would have been an idyllic scene worthy of vacation photos and internet posts. But now…

  Well, it still seemed peaceful. The snow had a way of making everything seem quieter. There wasn’t a single animal sound.

  Josh’s gaze moved steadily around his surroundings. He was trying to enjoy it, trying to find some brief period of calm before he had to figure how what his next move was.

  And that was when he noticed the footprints.

  His footprints. They were as clear as day in the snow. His eyes followed the trail, which led back to the scene of the shootout.

  Shit.

  They’d find him.

  If they wanted him, all they had to do was follow the trail. And it would lead them straight back to Josh.

  He could keep running, maybe try to conceal his footprints somehow. But it seemed like it’d be a losing battle. By the time he got a pine branch and started brushing, they’d already be there. If they were after him, that is. And they certainly would be.

  If it had been Max, he had every reason to try to protect the secrecy of his location. Maybe he realized he’d made a blunder on the radio. Or maybe he didn’t. Either way, he must have known that he was less likely to attract trouble if no one knew he was there.

  It was a tough choice to make. Especially for a coward.

  Josh had no problems admitting he was a coward. Not to himself, at least.

  But that self-admission did make it hard to decide to stay and fight. Something about it seemed contradictory.

  Josh found a place where he thought he might remain somewhat concealed. His white parka definitely was an advantage. The compound had the advantage of owning some specialty gear. That was what planning did for you. Not many other groups or individuals would have had such foresight.

  Josh positioned his rifle so he’d have a clear shot, straight down the path of his footprints.

  Then he waited, shivering in the cold, his finger on the trigger, and snow falling around him.

  3

  James

  “You get enough to eat, Mom?” said James.

  “Thanks, James, I’m fine,” said Georgia.

  She was looking a lot better. Some color had returned to her face, and she’d started walking around the camp. It might still be a while, though, before she was out hunting again. And she was itching to do it. But the walks had quelled some of her frustration.

  “You warm enough?”

  “I’m fine, James. Don’t worry about me.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course. Now go do something useful with yourself.”

  Georgia continued walking, unaided, along her small path that circled the camp. Neither the snow or the freezing temperatures were going to deter her.

  James looked out at the snow-covered trees and wondered about Max and Mandy.

  But, as Max would have said, there was no point in worrying about something he couldn’t change. The thing to do was keep going. And the meaning of that was always situationally-dependent.

  In this moment, it meant defending and readying the camp.

  John and Sadie were on watch. They were positioned at opposite ends of the camp, waiting and watching in the cold.

  James had the brotherly instinct to go check on Sadie, but at the last moment, he thought better of it. After all, he knew she’d be fine. She was bundled up plenty, and more likely she’d just talk his ear off complaining about being bored and about being cold.

  Most of the work that the camp needed had already been done over the last week. Together, they’d taken the tent from the pot farmers and brought it over to Jake and Rose’s van. With one person always on watch, the van and the tent together provided enough sleeping space for everyone. Not that either structure did much against the cold.

  James had argued that they should just move the van now that they had gasoline. But Max had pointed out that the fields of marijuana weren’t something they wanted to live very close to. He’d said it be better if they could move farther away, but that it’d be too inconvenient. The fields, Max had said, could draw unwanted attention. It was, after all, a resource that some might potentially be after.

  The fire was still out, so as not to draw more attention. There was enough food for now, and James knew he couldn’t go hunting anyway. Not with someone potentially being out there.

  It bothered James to have no immediate project. Nothing to help with.

  Max’s brother was inside the tent, fiddling with the radio that he’d brought. Now they had two radios. And no one to communicate with.

  “What you doing?” said James.

  “Oh, just trying to figure out how we can continue to power this thing.”

  “The battery won’t last?”

  John shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “In fact, the battery for the one I brought is already dead.”

  “What about the one from Jake and Rose?”

  “They’ve got it rigged up to a car battery,” said John. “It’s got more juice. But not a lot. I’m trying to figure out how to attach it to the car. You know anything about that sort of thing?”

  James shook his head. “Not really,” he said.

  “That’s the thing with people your age,” said John.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bef
ore the EMP, everything was just a quick internet search away. You never had to know anything.”

  “Same goes for you, too,” said James, feeling himself grow a little defensive. He didn’t yet know John very well. And while he seemed like a good guy, he hadn’t yet earned James’s respect the way Max had.

  John laughed. “You’re right,” he said. “I mean, look, I don’t know how to do this either. I got so used to my smartphone, I bet I forgot most of what I ever learned. I guess we’re going to have to get used to it. I don’t think there’s any going back.”

  “So you don’t think the US can restart again?”

  John shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m as pessimistic as Max is, from the sound of it. But I’m getting there, I guess. What about you?”

  “I don’t know,” said James. “From what I’ve seen… the way people are acting… it’d take something pretty… I don’t know… crazy to get everything back in order.”

  John nodded. The conversation gradually dwindled down, as John went back to work fiddling with the bits of wiring he was hoping to use to charge the batteries for the radio.

  James found himself outside again, staring at the grey sky. The snow was really coming down.

  He knew he wasn’t supposed to leave camp, but he hated not having something useful to do.

  The firewood was all ready. For when they wanted to make a fire, that is. The guns were as clean as they could. Everything was in order.

  But what about the pot farmers camp? They’d taken the tent and some other food. But James was convinced that there must still be something there that could be useful to them. After all, those men hadn’t seemed like the most organized. Surely they would have been the types to leave valuables around in odd places.

  James glanced to his left and then his right. For the moment, everyone was occupied.

  James slipped away from camp, heading towards the old pot farm.

  His shoes made prints in the snow as he walked swiftly, leaning in against the cold wind. The heavy snow soon made the camp invisible when he glanced back at it. Good, no one would notice that he was gone.

  4

  Max

  “I think I could have gotten him with a cleaner shot,” said Mandy.

  “It was a good shot,” said Max. “It did the job.”

  “Yeah, but I think… you know, I just want to make sure I’ve still got it, that I can do what I need to do.”

  She hadn’t stopped talking about killing the man since it’d happened ten minutes ago. She seemed to be trying to convince herself that she wasn’t going to be weak, that she was able to kill when it was necessary.

  Finally, Max had to put a stop to it.

  “Listen, Mandy,” he said. “I know you were dealing with some shit. But talking about it isn’t going to change it. You either do what you need to do or you don’t. And you did it. It was a good shot, and that’s that.”

  Mandy fell silent.

  “The snow’s falling heavier now,” said Max. “I don’t know how long we have before the snow covers up these tracks completely. Come on, let’s pick up the pace.”

  “But what happens when we find him?” said Mandy.

  “We’re trying to take this one alive,” said Max. “If it’s at all possible.”

  “And if not?”

  “Same as the last one,” said Max, running his thumb across his neck. “If he’s from the compound, or the militia, we can’t let him leave alive.”

  “I’m worried he’s just at the end of these footprints, waiting, ready to shoot us.”

  “That’s probably exactly what he’s doing,” said Max. “If he has any sense at all. I think this one is smarter than the last one. The visibility is so low now that I think we have the upper hand.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Mandy.

  The wind had picked up, and it was hard to see in front of them. The snow blew furiously, the wind changing direction sporadically.

  They were walking across a field. If it hadn’t been for the snow, they would have been easy targets.

  They were coming up to the end of the field, where the tree line started again.

  “If it was me,” said Max. “I’d be waiting right up there in those trees.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Stop here. We’re right past the range of his rifle. Here’s what we’ll do. You stay here. Keep your eyes on the woods. I’ll go around from the side and cut him off. If he’s there, I’ll take him by surprise.”

  “And if he’s not?”

  “Then we’ve got to keep following him.”

  “We might freeze to death, Max. We can’t follow him for hours and hours.”

  “We’ll have to,” said Max. “We can’t let him leave.”

  “He doesn’t even know where the camp is, remember?”

  “As far as we know, and that doesn’t mean much. I screwed up giving John a meeting place over the radio. I’m not going to let that mistake get us all killed.”

  “What were you going to do, though? You had to give John somewhere to meet you.”

  “There’s no time to discuss that now. And we’ll worry about tracking this guy later. My bet is that he’s there in the woods, waiting for us.”

  “Are you sure about this, Max?”

  Max shook his head. “No, but it’s the best plan. For now. And remember, don’t shoot him dead unless you really need to.”

  “Unless I really need to.”

  “Unless he’s about to kill one of us, try to keep him alive. Remember, we need information.”

  “I don’t think I’m that good of a shot, Max.”

  “It’s not that hard. Remember, stay calm. You’ll be more accurate.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  With a nod of his head, Max set off through the snow, leaving Mandy behind. He turned his head to see her getting behind a tree. Her rifle soon became the only thing visible, protruding out from the trunk.

  A minute later, he couldn’t see her at all. The falling snow was in the way.

  Max’s boots made huge deep prints in the snow. He cut a big half-circle of a path, taking the long way around so that he could come up from the east.

  His hands were so cold they were stiff, so he slung his gun back over his shoulder, and stuck them in his pockets. He needed them warm for when he needed the rifle.

  Max could see his breath in the air. He walked quickly, but not enough to make him actually feel warm. Just fast enough to keep him from freezing. He hoped Mandy would stay warm enough to fight effectively.

  If it came to that, that is. Max was hoping he’d be able to sneak up on the guy from behind, avoiding any kind of firefight.

  Of course, he knew very well that things were never as easy as he’d hope. Plans never went the right way. The smart thing to do was expect changes and adapt on the fly. Easier said than done.

  Max had crossed the field, and he entered the heavily wooded area. The presence of the trees somewhat protected him against the falling snow. But there was still plenty of snow on the ground, on the trees, and in the air.

  In another time, this would have been an idyllic scene. There was a certain type of quiet in the air that only comes from a fresh snowfall.

  But Max wasn’t paying attention to that aspect of his surroundings. His eyes were scanning the forest carefully, looking for any signs of the man.

  Max was coming up from behind. Coming from the opposite direction the enemy would be expecting. Hopefully.

  It was as much of a game of strategy and intelligence as anything else. Max had to outsmart the enemy in order to stay alive.

  He walked slowly, bending his back, crouching, staying low to the ground.

  He had his rifle out now. His hands and fingers were cold, but they’d work well enough.

  Truthfully, he felt more comfortable with his Glock. But it wasn’t ideal for this sort of situation. Only the rifle could provide the range he’d need.

  There was something up ahead,
towards the line where the woods met the field. Max thought his eyes were playing tricks on him at first. Then he realized it was the man’s white winter coat simply creating a strange illusion. It was the hat that made him visible. A big, incredibly warm looking hat, like the kind the Russian soldiers wore in old movies. It was black, and stuck out from the white snowy background like a sore thumb.

  Max stopped where he was, not wanting to make any more noise.

  He put his eye to his rifle’s scope. The man was facing away from him, his own rifle pointed towards where Mandy was. He was definitely lying in wait. Max had been right to expect the man to be waiting for them rather than continue on.

  Max took careful aim. The man’s right shoulder was in Max’s crosshairs. Hopefully, that’d be enough to immobilize him, and prevent him from using his rifle.

  Max squeezed the trigger.

  He’d hit him.

  The man didn’t scream. He let off a strange grunt-like noise of pain, muffled by the snow and trees.

  As long as Mandy stayed where she was, she’d be safe. After all, there was a chance the man could still get off a shot.

  Max darted behind a tree trunk and waited. The man’s painful grunting continued, turning into an animal-like wail.

  Max waited, then made his move. But not before getting his rifle back on his shoulder, and getting his Glock out and ready.

  Max dashed towards the man, the Glock pointed directly at him.

  “Don’t make a move,” Max shouted. He didn’t need to worry about others in the area overhearing him. He had no need to be quiet anymore. Hopefully.

  The man had dropped his gun on the snow. He was clutching his shoulder. It’d been a good shot. Max had hit him right when he’d been aiming.

  The man’s face was contorted in pain. But that didn’t stop Max from recognizing him. James had been right.

  He was from the compound.

  Max pointed his Glock right at the man’s face.

  “One move and you’re dead,” said Max.

  The man nodded his understanding.

  “Any other weapons?”

  The man shook his head.

  “I’ve learned not to trust answers like that,” said Max, using his free hand to pat the man down.