Fighting Rough

by Ryan Westfield

  Max glanced back once at Mandy before going around to the other side of the van, disappearing from view.

  “Hell of a guy, eh?” said John to Mandy, who remained seated.

  “He’s done us a lot of good,” said Mandy.

  “I can see that. You all respect him a lot.”

  “We’ve got good reason too.”

  “Yeah,” said John, letting his voice trail off vaguely.

  “What’s on your mind?” said Mandy, sensing that John wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if he should or not.

  “Oh, nothing,” said John.

  “How’d you get this fire started?” said Mandy, eying the roaring fire.

  “Lots of sap,” said John. “It lights up like nothing else. And dead wood still on the trees. It’s still dry, even in the snow.”

  Mandy nodded.

  “I guess we could be attacked at any moment,” said John, staring off into the swirling snow.

  “Yup,” said Mandy.

  “I guess I’ve gotten kind of used to it,” said John. “And you seem to have, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re just sitting there, enjoying your coffee, rather than running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

  Mandy shrugged. “I’m still so cold my limbs are almost too stiff to walk.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean. But I don’t know. I guess you’re right. I guess I’ve gotten used to it, too. And I trust Max.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “With that tone in your voice?”

  “I don’t know,” said John. “You were asking what’s on my mind. Well, I’ll tell you. For weeks now, all I could think of was getting to Max. Finding Max. That’s all Cynthia and I talked about. I thought Max would have all the answers. I figured Max would have everything set up perfectly at that farmhouse. And when he wasn’t there, well, I guess it gave me something to keep going for.”

  “You thought Max would fix all your problems?”

  “I guess so. He’s my brother. I always looked up to him.”

  “That’s not how he tells it.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ve had our differences. I went my own way for a while. I’ve changed since that. I mean, the EMP has changed all of us.”

  “So where are you going with all this?” said Mandy. “What’s the point?”

  She was thinking that one way the EMP might have changed her was she had less tolerance for emotional ramblings like the one John was launching into.

  “I guess I’m just disappointed,” said John. “I know I shouldn’t be.”

  “You’re disappointed Max doesn’t have all the answers? Are you crazy? No one does. No one knows what happened. At least no one we’re going to run into. And no one knows what the future holds. All we can do is try to live out the next day. And Max is good at that. We’re getting good at it, too.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said John.

  But Mandy was already feeling mad. No amount of backtracking on John’s part was going to keep her from really letting him have it. Not at this point. She felt strongly about Max. Maybe she felt strongly for him.

  “Now you listen here,” said Mandy, raising her voice. She was mentally preparing the little speech she was going to give him. She was going to tell him he had no right to even start to criticize Max. She was going to tell him that…

  There was a noise behind them.

  “What’s that?” said John, reaching for his handgun.

  Mandy fumbled for her own gun. But her fingers were still stiff from the cold, and the gun seemed to be stuck in its holster.

  13

  Ricky

  Ricky wasn’t as scared of Anton as he was of Marshal.

  But that didn’t mean he didn’t have to do what Anton said.

  Ricky didn’t know if Anton would take control of the compound like he wanted to. His intentions were clear, but would he have the ability to follow through?

  Ricky doubted Anton would be a good leader. In fact, he knew otherwise. There were other men who were better suited to lead. There were more competent men. Men who knew what they were doing. But they weren’t filled with the same intense lust for power that Anton exhibited.

  Sometimes, all it took was the desire. The lust. Nothing more.

  Provided he didn’t die out here in the snow, Anton could easily take complete control of the compound.

  And if that happened, Ricky didn’t want to be on his shit list.

  That’d mean a slow or quick death.

  Anton could simply have him executed. Or he could start denying him food and other privileges. He could work him to death.

  There were a thousand worse fates than a bullet in the back.

  Violence was now the law of the land. Murders were the new normal. It wasn’t like there was anyone who was going to start investigating murder cases.

  It wasn’t even called “murder” anymore. It was simply the way things were. The new reality.

  People had already disappeared from the compound since Kara’s disappearance. Some of them simply hadn’t returned. Others had been called out to speak with Anton outside. They hadn’t come back in. But Anton had.

  Ricky was walking as slowly as possible through the trees. He followed the marks cut into the bark. Presumably they were leading him on a path back to Max’s camp.

  Ricky would have to think of a way to approach the camp without getting killed straight away. From what he’d heard, Max and his gang were extremely dangerous. Ricky didn’t know if Max was former military or what. Maybe he was just a serious enthusiast, or had been before the EMP. After the EMP, he’d gone “professional,” so to speak.

  Sure, Max and his gang had fed the compound some sob story when they were there. But Ricky and the others weren’t buying that now. Max and his gang had laid waste to the compound, killing many in the process of their daring escape.

  Sure, if Ricky tried, he could almost see things from Max’s perspective. Ricky and the others, led by Kara, had locked up Max’s women. They’d wanted to keep them there for life. But they’d had good reasons. From one perspective, maybe Max had his reasons.

  But Ricky wasn’t the kind of person who liked to think about things from multiple perspectives. Life, after all, was easier when you looked at it just one way. From one angle. In black and white.

  Ricky was using that same perspective now. The easiest thing for him to do was to follow orders. Not question them too much. Not think of the ways he was surely going to die. Not think of the ways he could fool Anton into thinking he’d scoped out Max’s camp without actually doing so. And not simply escaping on his own.

  After all, if Ricky ran off, intent on saving his own hide, what terrible end would he meet? It’d probably be sooner rather than later. That much was sure. He wouldn’t be able to feed himself, for one thing. Most likely though, was the possibility that he’d simply be killed by some roving band.

  Led by Anton and Marshal, Ricky and the other men from the compound had already come across one such band on their way here to find Max. There’d been a brief gunfight. None of the compound men took any fire. But they easily could have.

  There’d just been three of the others. Armed with one shotgun and two machetes, they’d been no match for Ricky and the others.

  But if Ricky had been on his own, it would have gone much differently.

  The EMP had changed everyone. It seemed as if the only ones who had survived the initial panic were the most vicious, the most cruel, and the most willing to do whatever it took.

  There were some, like Max and his gang, who claimed to follow the “rules,” whatever those were, as if they were guided by some principles.

  But Ricky knew differently. There was no right or wrong any more. It was simply kill or be killed.

  And they’d all die sooner or later.

  Ricky h
ad no illusions that any of them would last another five years. Not with the way things were going.

  The temperature had dropped further now that it was night. Ricky shivered in the cold, despite his huge, warm parka.

  The snow had stopped falling. The wind had died down.

  The moon had risen. It was high and large in the sky, casting light that the fallen snow reflected brilliantly. There was no need for a flashlight.

  Up ahead, Ricky could see the flickering flames of a fire reflecting off the snow.

  He stopped, staying completely still. He didn’t hear anything. But there were definitely people at the camp. Max was still there.

  Why hadn’t they left? They must have known they’d be followed.

  Maybe the fire was a decoy. Or some kind of diversion.

  Max was smart. Ricky knew that much. You didn’t fight your way out of the compound and not have some kind of practical intelligence.

  Max wouldn’t want to sit there like a sitting duck with a raging fire. Or would he?

  Ricky didn’t know what the status of the men at the camp was. Maybe they were injured. Maybe they were half-starving. Maybe some of them were dying from the cold.

  Despite his initial trepidation, Ricky found his mindset shifting.

  Maybe Ricky was just trying to convince himself to go ahead, to get close enough to the camp to scout it. After all, he knew that if he didn’t come back with relevant information, it was likely that he’d simply be executed. Or punished in some other horrible way.

  Ricky had seen a movie once in which a World War II soldier had been punished by being chained to a huge boulder. The soldier had been Dutch, maybe. Or maybe Swedish. Ricky couldn’t remember now. And it was likely that that movie would never be seen by anyone ever again. So it didn’t matter.

  The soldier had been left there to die, to starve to death and be picked apart by wild animals.

  Ricky could easily imagine something like that happening to himself. Anton was obviously eager to show he was a tough leader. He wouldn’t hesitate to make an example out of someone who didn’t do what he was supposed to do.

  Only in Ricky’s case, unlike in the movie, he’d probably die from the cold before he died of starvation.

  So was Ricky trying to get himself to do his job, to continue towards the camp and gather real information?

  Maybe.

  And he was aware of it.

  In the end, he decided to just go on ahead. After all, the chances of everyone at the camps being in good fighting condition, in good health, was very low.

  Conditions couldn’t have been harsher. Food couldn’t have been scarcer.

  Probably, Max and the others were barely hanging on by a thread.

  Ricky could probably take them all out by himself. If he wanted to.

  And maybe he did.

  After all, what would impress Anton more than coming back with the news that he’d singlehandedly killed them all? That he’d recovered the radios by himself?

  Ricky and Ricky alone would have saved the day. He would have avoided the possibility that the others of his party would be injured in a fight. He would have saved them all the trouble… of everything.

  Ricky could feel his heart accelerating as he mentally prepared himself for going in there on his own and killing Max and the others. He didn’t know how many there were. But he had a rough idea. Probably about the same number as had been in the compound. Unless some of them had died off like flies in the winter.

  He probably shouldn’t go, though.

  It was stupid, right?

  Then again, his other option was simply to return to Anton and Marshal and the rest. Ricky knew he was on the shit list for one reason or another. Anton had chosen him, after all, and not the others, for this dangerous task. He was disposable in Anton’s mind. Sooner or later, Anton might find a reason to have him die.

  But if he returned completely victorious, having gone above and beyond, Ricky wouldn’t be on the shit list anymore.

  And if he died by barging into the camp all by himself, then so what?

  He was feeling nihilistic. He’d die soon enough, anyway. Better to go out with a bang than flounder around in the freezing snow, waiting for Anton’s mood to shift for the worse.

  Ricky decided it was time. Finally.

  He’d approach the camp from the other side, where the light of the fire didn’t reach. He’d approach from the darkest corner, slinking along in the night where the tall snow covered trees shielded the ground from the bright light of the moon.

  He’d do what he had to do.

  Or what he thought he had to do.

  Everyone’s path was different. It’d always been like that. But since the EMP, each path had become more intense. More perilous.

  That was just the way it was.

  14

  Jake

  “I feel like I’m losing it,” whispered Jake to Rose.

  They were cuddled in the honeymoon position in their van.

  Everyone else was outside by the fire, keeping watch, keeping warm, and staying ready. An attack was expected at any moment.

  Jake and Rose had probably annoyed everyone else by saying they’d needed to rest in the van. Max had just scowled and told them they had five minutes to themselves, and that after that he wanted them back out there.

  Jake had said they’d had something very personal to discuss. Something that was at the crisis level. Something that didn’t affect the rest of them. Only Jake and Rose.

  Max had been a tough sell. He hadn’t wanted to let anyone out of his sight. But Jake had convinced him. Max and the others probably thought Rose was pregnant or something, the way Jake had talked.

  In reality, Jake was suffering another one of his bouts of intense anxiety. Severe panic. He’d felt it coming on, and knew he’d needed to get away from everyone. Rose was the only one he could be around, the only one he felt comfortable with.

  He’d always been an anxious person. Through high school, he’d always hung in the back of the bus, of the classroom. He’d always been the one against the wall at the school dances, never participating, but somehow feeling like he was accomplishing something by just being there.

  It’d gotten a little worse in college. He’d spent all his time alone in his dorm room. When it’d been time to go to the dining hall to eat, his heart would start to pound and he’d start to sweat bullets. A lot of nights, he’d just sit there, crouched in a corner of his dorm room, never leaving to eat.

  He’d gone hungry more nights than he could count. And that’s when he’d realized that his general anxiety had turned into something worse. Much worse.

  Somehow he’d graduated college. And with high grades in all subjects. He’d made the dean’s list almost every semester. Isolating himself in his room had given him almost nothing to do but study.

  After college, he’d met Rose.

  She’d changed everything.

  The anxiety had started to melt away. Soon enough, he was going out with her. To parties, to dinners with friends. All the things he’d always wanted to do but had been too scared to.

  She’d completely changed him. And it wasn’t anything specific she’d done. It was just her presence. And how much he was in love with her.

  With Rose, the anxiety and panic attacks felt like distant memories. He almost couldn’t remember what the feeling had been like.

  They’d become digital nomads, deciding to travel the country in their van.

  Even after the EMP, the anxiety and panic attacks had stayed away. Jake had even lasted through the torments of the pot farmers.

  But now…

  It was all too much.

  The panic attacks had apparently come back.

  “It’s going to be OK, Jake,” said Rose, speaking to him in a soothing voice.

  “Nothing’s OK,” said Jake.

  His skin was sweaty and cold at the same time. His heart rate was extremely elevated.

  It didn’t feel like he could catch
his breath.

  “I can’t breathe,” said Jake, pushing away from Rose.

  He needed air. He couldn’t breathe. Not with her next to him.

  And not in the van.

  “I’ve got to get out of here,” said Jake.

  “Jake!” said Rose, grabbing his arm. “It’s all going to be OK. You just need to wait this out. We can stay in here, in the van. It’s just the two of us. You don’t need to worry about anyone else.”

  But Jake knew that wasn’t true.

  He did have to worry about everyone else. He had to worry about it all. Everything.

  There were men with guns. Coming to kill them.

  But it wasn’t even that fact that was getting to him.

  He didn’t even know what it was.

  It was just this overwhelming feeling of dread. Of complete panic. And that was slowly morphing into the feeling of being trapped.

  Completely trapped. Suffocating.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Jake, tugging his arm away from Rose’s grasp.

  He opened the door to the van. Cold air rushed in.

  Not far away, there were the others. Some were huddled around the fire. Others were staring off into the night.

  He could see everything. The moon was bright. And that meant everyone could see him. There was nowhere to hide.

  He needed a dark corner. Like the van.

  But then he couldn’t breathe.

  His mind was running circles. Nothing but pointless circles.

  And he didn’t realize it. He was losing control of himself.

  “You OK, buddy?” said John.

  He seemed to have come out of nowhere. He stood there, in front of Jake, with a huge gun in his hands.

  Jake couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t answer. He was breathing too hard.

  “I think he’s having a panic attack,” said Rose, from somewhere behind him.

  “Come on, buddy,” said John, attempting to put his arm around Jake. “It’s going to be OK.”