Fighting Rough

by Ryan Westfield

  Sure enough, there was a handgun tucked into the man’s waistband.

  “They don’t issue holsters at the compound?” said Max. “They’ve sure got you outfitted well for the snow.”

  The man said nothing.

  “I need to know,” said Max, “why you’re here. Tell me the truth, and I’ll let you live.”

  But Max was lying. He didn’t know if he could let the man live. He didn’t like playing this game, making a promise he couldn’t keep. But that was what the circumstances dictated. If he let him live, he’d head back to the compound and tell them everything he knew. That was a given.

  “Why should I trust you?” said the man, a terrified expression on his face.

  “You shouldn’t,” said Max. “But you don’t have any other choice.”

  Max looked up to see Mandy coming out of the falling snow, her body slowly becoming visible as she emerged from what looked like a moving white curtain.

  “You got him?”

  Max nodded.

  “Anyone else here?”

  “Not that I can tell. I need you to keep a lookout, though.”

  Mandy eyed the man, looking him up and down. “Your friend wasn’t as smart as you. But you weren’t smart enough.”

  “He’s not my friend.”

  “What’s your name?” said Max.

  The man hesitated. But only for a moment. He glanced at Max’s Glock, and seemed to decide that he’d have a better chance of living if he answered the questions.

  “Josh.”

  “And you’re from the compound, the same one we escaped from?”

  “You mean the same one you attacked?”

  “Attacked?”

  “You killed a lot of good men.”

  “We didn’t have a choice. You tried to kill me, and you were going to keep our women kidnapped there forever.”

  “That’s not the way I heard it.”

  “Well you heard wrong,” said Max. “Those are the facts. Now what are you doing here?”

  “Just going for a walk.”

  Max moved fast, upper cutting Josh in the stomach with a solid punch. It gave him no pleasure to do it. But he needed answers. Real ones. He needed to show him he meant business.

  Josh gasped for breath.

  “Take your time catching your breath,” said Max. “But the next words out of your mouth better be something real, something useful. My suspicions are that you’re out here scouting our location, that you heard us on the radio, and want to come finish the job. But what doesn’t make sense to me is the motive. Aside from pure revenge…”

  The seconds ticked by, and Josh hadn’t yet spoken.

  “You’d better do as he says,” said Mandy. “You seem to think he’s a killer, but you don’t know the half of it.”

  “And that is?” said Josh, a sarcastic twinkle in his eyes. He didn’t seem to take her seriously.

  “That I’m a lot worse.” As she spoke the words, she pulled out her Mora knife. She leaned down swiftly, and pushed the tip of the knife against Josh’s throat. Hard enough to draw a single spot of blood, but not hard enough to do any serious damage. She held the knife there. “One wrong move, one wrong word, and I’ll thrust this knife so far into your throat that…” Her words trailed off, but the fire didn’t leave her eyes.

  Max gave her a quizzical look. She hadn’t acted like this before. But he knew she’d been fighting with something inside herself. She’d hated the fact that she’d hesitated to kill when it had been necessary to save Max’s life.

  It seemed she’d gotten over it, though. She’d shot the other man from the compound. And now she didn’t seem to hesitate to threaten real violence. And it wasn’t an empty threat.

  Max just hoped she didn’t swing too far over to the other side. If she became a loose cannon, she’d just as much a danger to everyone if she was hesitant.

  But it was Mandy he was thinking of. She was sensible and practical. It would take a lot for her to swing too far to the other side.

  “Answer the question,” hissed Mandy.

  “OK. I’m from the compound, and…”

  Mandy pressed the knife a little harder into his throat. Just hard enough for some blood to come trickling out. She didn’t have the knife against his jugular, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. “You already told us that,” she said.

  “Mandy…” said Max, his tone warning her against going too far.

  “Damn, lady,” said Josh. “Take that knife away from my throat and I’ll tell you.”

  Max gave her a look.

  “Fine,” she muttered.

  She pulled the knife back, but kept it close to Josh, ready to strike at any moment.

  “I’ve been instructed to find your position. You were right, Max. They heard you on the radio. But they don’t know the position of your camp.”

  “It’s a lot of work just for revenge,” said Max. “What’s the end game?”

  Josh started talking quickly, spilling the beans on the whole story. He told them about the man from the militia, the one who had chased John and Cynthia through the wood on a dirt bike. He told them how the militia wanted the radios, and how the compound was more than willing to team up with them.

  “But what’s in it for the compound?” said Max. “Just the promises from the militia?”

  “Basically,” said Josh. “But there’s internal politics going on. Since Kara’s death, it’s been chaotic. I don’t like the way things are going… they forced me to come, Max… I didn’t want to do it. I’m not like the others, you’ve got to believe me…”

  “Just tell the rest of the story,” said Max. “You said Kara’s dead. What’s happening in her place?”

  “New people are vying for power,” said Josh. “There’s a guy named Anton. He’ll lead the raiding party if I go back with your position. Not that I’m going to do that, Max. You’ve got to believe me. Let me live, and I’ll… Well, I’d join you if you’d let me.”

  “We’ll worry about that later,” said Max. “Just out with the information. Nothing more. OK?”

  “You heard him,” said Mandy, waiving the knife threateningly.

  Max shook his head briefly at her, indicating for her to cut it out. That kind of behavior wasn’t going to get them anywhere. The threat of the Glock was already there.

  Josh glanced up at Max.

  “Info,” said Max. “Now.”

  “OK, OK. Anyway, Anton is looking to lead the raiding party. He thinks he’ll be able to gain power within the compound by doing so, as well as strengthen his own personal ties with the envoy from the militia. I doubt it’ll work, but that’s what he’s intending… Now if you’ll just hear me out, I have a lot to offer you guys.”

  “Anything more I should know?” said Max.

  “Anything more?”

  “If you’re hoping to join us, I’d think you’d want to give us all the information possible. Information that would help keep us alive.”

  “Ah, well, of course. No, that’s about everything.”

  “OK, now I need you to be quiet,” said Max. “While we figure out what to do with you.”

  “Don’t kill me,” pleaded Josh, still clutching his shoulder. “Please don’t.”

  Tears were streaming down from his eyes, and his face contorted into a desperate wail.

  Max’s own face remained unchanged. He didn’t take his eyes off Josh.

  “Not one more word,” said Max.

  Max wasn’t cruel, but he also didn’t trust Josh. After all, he was a stranger, a man from the compound. And he had every reason to lie to save his own skin.

  “So what do we do with him?” said Max.

  “Kill him,” said Mandy. “There’s no other way. If he goes back to the compound, we’re dead.”

  “What if he’s telling the truth?”

  “About what?”

  “About wanting to join us. We could use someone like him.”

  “Someone like him? A killer from the compound
? The same people who tried to kill us? Are you going soft, Max?”

  “I’m trying to be rational,” said Max. “That’s not the same as going soft. You don’t want to go too hard, either, Mandy.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Max,” said Josh, who hadn’t stopped crying. “There’s no reason to kill me. I could help you guys out. I could tell you everything the compound knows…”

  Max wasn’t being soft in considering keeping the guy alive. He was thinking about the survival of himself, Mandy, Georgia, and the others.

  If he had to kill him, he would. Plenty of “innocent” people had died already. And plenty more would soon enough.

  And Josh’s innocence was highly suspect.

  The snow hadn’t let up. Instead, it was falling heavier now than ever.

  And the temperature was dropping. Max felt the cold. Especially his leg. The cold seemed to aggravate his injury.

  The sun was completely blotted out by the snow. Max raised his wrist to check the time, so as not to take his eyes off Josh. It was almost noon.

  5

  Anton

  “I don’t get it,” said Marshal, trudging through the snow beside Anton. “Why’d you send out those two scouts if you wanted to just roll on out yourself?”

  “Easy,” said Anton. “I knew those two morons would botch the whole thing. They’ll work as a distraction more than anything else.”

  “But we still don’t know where the camp is.”

  “It won’t be hard to find. Trust me. You saw the maps.”

  “I did, and it’s a big park.”

  “Hunting grounds,” said Anton, correcting him. “It’s not a park.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s going to be hard to find them. Especially in this snow. I don’t see why we couldn’t have waited until this all blows over.”

  Anton chuckled. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Marshal. You’ve spent too much of your life in prison.”

  “Didn’t have much of a choice.”

  “Well, watch and learn. The snow gives us cover. Decreased visibility is our friend here. We’ll be able to create confusion, and cut them off when they try to flee. We’ll get them, one by one. And the best thing of all? The roads are impassible, and traveling on foot far will be difficult.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” said Marshal. “If you didn’t notice, we’re traveling long distances in the very same snow.”

  Anton made a dismissive noise. “We’re outfitted perfectly for the conditions. How you liking those new boots, anyway?”

  “They’re fine,” said Marshal, who glanced behind them.

  The men from the compound walked behind them in a single file line. They all wore large parkas and heavy snow boots. And most importantly, they all carried weapons. Some had hunting rifles with scopes. But most had semi-automatic assault rifles.

  Max and his pitiful little group would be no match for them.

  Anton was pleased with himself. Frankly, he didn’t care about the radios that they were supposedly after. What he cared about was proving himself a leader, taking control of the compound in Kara’s absence. He needed to show Marshal what his group was made of, and what he himself was capable of.

  Marshal may not have known much about fighting in a rural environment. But he wasn’t a fool. And he’d done fine enough on the dirt bike.

  Anton would have never let on, but he was terrified of Marshal. And eager to please and impress him. His bravado was merely a cover for the insecurity he felt.

  Marshal had spent the last ten years of his life incarcerated. The EMP had meant a new life for him. He’d been a higher up in one of the more prominent prison gangs, and he’d used his connections to work his way up in the newly formed post-EMP militia. He’d been chosen as an envoy because of his intelligence and ability to simply “get shit done,” as he put it.

  Marshal was covered in prison tattoos, running in every direction across his pasty pale skin. Not that they were visible now. But Anton had seen them when they were changing into their outdoor winter gear.

  “I can’t see shit in this snow,” said Marshal.

  “Neither can the enemy,” said Anton. “Our ears are our ally in a situation like this.”

  “Yeah, but I’d prefer seeing. You know, in prison, everything’s up close and personal. You may not know what’s going to happen, but at least you can see ten feet in front of you.”

  “Must be weird being out again, eh?” said Anton.

  Marshal grunted.

  “You really think we can find them in this snow? We’ve been on the move for what, eight hours?”

  Anton glanced at his watch. “More like twelve. But we’ll find them.”

  “How do you even know where we are?”

  “I used to hunt here as a kid. That’s why I know we’ll find them. I don’t even need to look at the maps.”

  “Well, let’s hope nothing happens to you then, buddy, because I don’t know how the hell to get out of here.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me. They don’t stand a chance against us.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I thought you’d be tougher.” Anton paused, realized he might just have put his foot in his mouth.

  Marshal gave him a look. It wasn’t much, but it scared Anton, making his heart start to beat faster. He was, after all, terrified of Marshal and what he was capable of.

  It was funny the way it went sometimes, thought Anton. If someone had been listening to their conversation, it would have sounded like Anton was the tough one, not to mention sure of himself. But in reality, Marshal had already seen more action in his life than Anton could even dream of.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” said Anton. “I just meant… I thought you wouldn’t be worried about their chances. You’ve done a lot of fighting. And before you went to prison, you were in plenty of gun fights, right?”

  “That’s right,” said Marshal. “But if there’s one thing my life has taught me, it’s never underestimate your enemy.”

  “Words of wisdom, definitely,” said Anton, glancing back at his men, who were following dutifully behind them.

  “Can I ask you something?” said Marshal.

  “Sure.”

  “Where are you from, anyway?”

  “I’m from around here. What do you mean?”

  “Your accent. You sound kind of foreign or something.”

  “Oh,” said Anton. “I came here with my parents when I was ten. I grew up here, though.”

  “Where are you parents from?”

  “Germany. They were doctors.”

  Anton was surprised at the question, but he shouldn’t have been. After all, for one reason or another, he had never lost his German accent. It was still just as strong as his father’s.

  “You ever get to visit Germany? I hear it’s beautiful. One of my cellies was from there. He said there’s nothing like it. Rolling green hills and all that.”

  “Uh, once or twice. When my grandparents died. Why are we talking about this anyway?”

  It seemed strange to Anton that Marshal would be interested in his accent or his history. After all, none of that mattered now. For all Anton knew, there were no more nations. Germany could have easily gone the way the US had, crumbling into anarchy.

  What he was concerned about was taking a piece of the chaos and molding it with his own sheer force of will. He wanted to exert his power over others. He wanted to bring back some law and order, no matter what the cost.

  In Anton’s mind, that was how the great nations had been created in the first place. Violence and power had been necessary. Required, even. Those times had fallen to the wayside, and a new era had taken over. But now the time for violence was back. This was the time for strong men, for men who weren’t afraid to do what needed to be done. Order needed to be restored.

  But if Anton was being honest with himself, he would have admitted that it was more than just order he wanted. He was more concerned with making his ow
n mark, with carving his own little place in history. By whatever means necessary, of course. But wasn’t that how the great nations had been founded in the first place? There’d been men who’d been willing to do whatever it took. And more often than not they’d had their own personal interests in mind rather than the interests of the greater good.

  “Hey, Anton!”

  Someone behind him was tapping him on the shoulder. It broke him out of his little philosophical daydream.

  It was Nick, and he was pointing over to the right.

  “What is it?”

  “Check it out. Looks like something man made. Thought you should know.”

  “Let’s take a look.”

  It was hard to tell what it was with all the snow. But it was something, a vague white blur off in the distance, barely visible through the snowfall.

  “Marshal, come on.”

  Marshal nodded.

  “OK, Nick, you come with me and Marshal. The rest of you, post up around the area. Groups of two. And don’t get too far you can’t see each other. I want the area covered, but I don’t want any of you getting lost in the blizzard.”

  The three of them moved on out towards the objects. Anton lead the way. He didn’t want to be like other leaders who stayed behind and let their troops do the dirty work. No, he wanted to be out there, exposing himself to danger. He wanted to get his hands dirty, to fire the first shots. His goal, after all, was to gain respect.

  And the only way to do that?

  Be more vicious and ruthless than anyone else.

  As soon as he got his hands on Max, he’d tear into him with his own hands if he had too.

  “What the hell is that?” said Marshal, from behind him.

  Now that they were getting closer, the object was coming into view better. It wasn’t actually an object.

  “Looks like a field of some sort,” said Anton. “You think that’s corn someone’s growing?”

  “Dunno, but I’m going to find out,” said Marshal, who picked up his pace, passing Anton.

  Anton huffed with annoyance. After all, he wanted to be the first there. That was how it was supposed to work. He was the leader, not Marshal. Marshal was just along for the ride, a member of a different organization altogether.