Strengthen What Remains (Book 2): A Time To Endure

by Kyle Pratt

  Both men fired.

  Another terrorist fell.

  “I took a few men to look for you when you didn’t show.” Fletcher shot to his right. “Figured you were close. Most of the soldiers are at the southern chokepoint of the trap.”

  Bullets slammed into the Humvee.

  Caden pointed to a six foot cement planter nearby and shouted to Tyler. “Can you get there if we provide cover?”

  He nodded.

  “Go!” Caden said.

  Both he and Fletcher fired continuous bursts.

  Tyler slid behind it like a runner going into home plate, gave a thumb’s up to Caden, and began shooting.

  “Where are the men with you?” Caden asked.

  Fletcher point in one direction and then fired in another.

  Caden changed magazines, shot a terrorist, and then looked where Fletcher had pointed. Three soldiers fired from the roof of a nearby drugstore. Others shot from windows. “That’s a better position.”

  Bullets slammed the ground inches from them throwing asphalt and dust in their faces.

  “You don’t need to tell me that,” Fletcher said.

  Over the roar of battle Conner yelled, “RPG!”

  Caden turned, saw the man with the launcher and shot, but missed. He smacked Fletcher on the shoulder. “Run!”

  Fletcher raced toward the drugstore.

  Caden and Tyler provided cover.

  A shooter slammed back against a car and collapsed.

  Conner stood behind the concrete barrier, and fired repeated bursts.

  The Jihadist with the RPG fell.

  Two terrorists shot at Conner.

  The private fell back hitting the ground with a thud.

  Tyler returned fire hitting one of the shooters.

  Caden shot at the other.

  Silence reigned over the area.

  “Cover me.” Caden shouted. He ran to Conner and pulled him to a safer spot. The only sound Caden heard was his heart pounding in his ears. He knelt and pressed two fingers to the young soldier’s neck but couldn’t find a pulse. “First Sergeant, have the men check the enemy positions.”

  “You heard him. Secure the area, check the bodies.” Fletcher shouted. “But be careful. Some of them could be alive.” Fletcher then jogged over to Caden. “How is Conner?”

  In the distance came the sound of gunfire.

  “Dead.” Caden closed the young soldier’s eyes.

  The radio on both Caden and Fletcher crackled. “Fletcher, this is Golf 181. “Engaging the enemy.”

  “Golf 181, this is Westmore. We will be approaching from the rear.”

  “Roger that. Glad to hear your voice.”

  Caden turned to Fletcher. “Do we have a vehicle?”

  “No, but we’re less than a mile from the chokepoint.”

  “Okay, we run back,” Caden said. “Let’s do a quick intel check while the men collect gear and rig a stretcher for Conner’s body.” He looked back at the overturned Humvee. “I need to get something.”

  Minutes later, as Caden slid the body of his brother from the vehicle; he heard the crunch of gravel and looked up.

  “We have eight dead Jihadists,” Fletcher said. “We have two walking wounded. Our only causalities were Private Conner and Gilbert, but…who…ah, is this your brother?”

  “Yes.” Caden stared at the bag. He thought he should feel something, but he didn’t. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Are we ready to move out, First Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir, but before we go sir, remember you told me to pick from the volunteers for your part of this operation?”

  Caden nodded.

  “Well, every man in the unit volunteered.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Yes, sir. I added Conner because I figured he would be safer with you.”

  “I guess I would have thought the same. Thanks, First Sergeant.

  Caden scanned the area and shouted. “Okay, we’ve got more fighting to do so, let’s move out.” Along with another man, Caden hoisted Peter’s body and ran toward the next fight.

  * * *

  Caden handed the mic back to the radio operator after providing his preliminary post-battle report. The terrorists had hit them hard. Seven were dead, fifteen wounded. Four were serious; a chopper from the logistics base was inbound for them. The rest were well enough to return with the unit.

  As he walked away he felt strangely detached, like a ghost haunting the living. He saw, but only vaguely perceived.

  He moved without direction.

  The air was still.

  No dogs barked.

  No birds chirped.

  This had been a park beside a river. The grass was green, but not mowed. To his left was a towering bridge. The sun shone on all of it.

  He felt nothing.

  Only then did he realize he stood among the dead.

  Eight body bags lay in a line before him.

  He knelt by the first body bag. Slowly he unzipped it, looked the soldier in the face. “Corporal Gilbert. You were the best marksman in your squad.”

  He moved on to the next. “Private Chambers. You were brave and always the first to volunteer.”

  The dead eyes of the next soldier stared up at Caden and twisted his gut into a knot. “Private Steven Conner. I learned your name just an hour ago. Thank you for having my back.” So many have died. He looked down the row of dead and remembered one of them was his brother. Thoughts of Peter stirred emotion back into him. In a voice barely above a whisper he asked, “Why God?”

  “They say that God puts us where we need to be.”

  Caden stood and looked at Fletcher. “I shouldn’t have said that out loud. It’s not good for soldiers to ask existential questions.”

  “I’m not sure what existential means, but I think we all ask God why things happen.” Looking at Conner the first sergeant said, “I think he saved you.”

  Caden followed his gaze. “He provided cover fire that gave you time to get to me and stayed on point. He may have saved us both.”

  “True,” Fletcher said. “However, in the big scheme of things I don’t matter, but you do.”

  Caden cast him a questioning look. “You matter to me and to a lot of the soldiers.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m not saying people don’t care for each other, it’s…well…Hansen wouldn’t have survived without Sheriff Hoover, but he was just trying to save the town.”

  “What about Brooks? What about you?”

  “Me? I’m no leader, just a good follower. Brooks, he’ll be a fine officer in a few years, but when you came he was just trying to keep things together at the armory. You were the one that got people working on the power plant, you had the idea of finding greenhouses and you stopped Durant’s forces at the causeway. You had vision.”

  Caden felt his face flush at Fletcher’s tribute, as he recalled the verse in Proverbs, ‘Where there is no vision, the people perish.’ He remembered the preacher asking, ‘Who will stand in the gap,’ and the Chaplain talking about rebuilding what had been broken. He looked at the row of fallen soldiers. “Perhaps we are all exactly where God needs us, but I’m sorry they needed to be here.”

  Fletcher nodded.

  Soldier’s arrived and carried off the bodies.

  Caden and Fletcher headed back toward the vehicles.

  Thinking of Maria, Caden said, “I wonder how everyone is doing back in Hansen.”

  “We left on Monday and it’s what…Thursday? How much could go wrong?”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Maria yawned as she turned into the hospital parking lot. It was just after eight in the morning, and she had been up since dropping Caden off at the armory. This is going to be a long Monday. I’ll take a nap in the waiting room while Sue sees the doctor.

  She had planned to let Sue off at the hospital entrance and then park the car, but a Humvee blocked the lane. A soldier stood outside signaling them to pull into the parking lot.

  “I’ll get us as close as I
can,” she said with a frown.

  “I can walk,” Sue said. “I’m just slow and I waddle.”

  Both women laughed.

  Maria pulled into a spot across from the main doors. A police car, with lights flashing, was right where she would have dropped Sue off. What’s going on? She helped Sue out of the car.

  As they walked toward the building, Sue gestured with her eyes toward the homeless people camped along the edge of the lot. “They always make me nervous, but today I think we have plenty of protection.”

  Maria smiled anxiously. “Yes, but why are they all here?”

  “Who cares? I’m just thankful they are.”

  Though it was still early, about a dozen people were in the lobby. A nurse sat behind a long counter. A janitor mopped in the corner. The rest were waiting patients.

  “Oh, look, down the hall, isn’t that David with the deputy? And the guy between them, is he the one you were talking about?”

  Maria looked to her right and immediately recognized both Brooks and Cruz.

  “He has a lot of tattoos.”

  Maria shuddered. “Let’s go the other way, okay?” She turned, and holding Sue’s arm, led her toward a door on their left.

  As they approached the lobby exit a shot rang out.

  Maria spun around.

  The janitor held a gun still pointed at the falling deputy.

  The room erupted in chaos and screams.

  Brooks spun toward the shooter, dropping to his knee as he did, and fired.

  The janitor collapsed to the floor.

  Cruz, still in hand and leg cuffs, raced out the door.

  Steady gunfire raged outside the building.

  Beside Maria, a man stood slowly and aimed at Brooks.

  “David!” She hit the man with her fist.

  The gunman turned and, with an amused expression, pointed his weapon at Maria.

  What can I do? Maria forced her eyes from the gun to the man.

  Three quick shots threw the man over the row of seats.

  David’s eyes scanned the room as he slowly stood. He motioned for Maria to come and then handed her the deputy’s pistol. “Where’s Sue?”

  “She was with me a minute ago.”

  “Find her and stay safe. I’ve got to go.” Crouching he ran outside.

  With the gun at the ready, Maria trotted across the lobby.

  A woman, hiding behind chairs, muffled a scream.

  “I’m one of the good guys…gals, whatever,” Maria said. “Sue where are you?” Continuing in the direction they had gone, Maria pushed one side of the nearby double doors, but it opened only partway before it bumped against something. Hearing rapid breathing, she stepped through on the other side.

  With only her head and shoulders off the floor, Sue lay against the wall. She braced her large belly with both hands as panicked breaths ushered in and out.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I think today…just became…the day.”

  Through the window in the door Maria saw two security guards rush across the lobby. Not wanting to get shot by a nervous security guard, she placed the gun in her jacket pocket. “I’ll get a wheelchair.”

  “No.” Sue gritted her teeth and moaned. “Don’t leave. Help me stand.” When Sue was on her feet she asked, “Is David okay?”

  Maria looked over her shoulder into the room she had just left. “I don’t know. I’ll get you situated and then I’ll check.” Still looking through the window in the door her eyes focused on the fallen deputy and then the two gunmen. She wanted to cry, to scream, but nothing came.

  Sue leaned on Maria and together they walked slowly toward the maternity unit.

  * * *

  Zach adjusted the scope on his AR-15. After he helped load the convoy, he returned home, packed camping gear and established a primitive campsite on the rock outcrop across from Bo’s house. Over the last two days the crook had left the house about nine in the morning, but today he caught Zach by surprise when he departed before dawn.

  You’ve got to come home sometime Bo. Using a bipod, Zach had his rifle aimed at the front door.

  As he watched the house, the sun had risen to an orange splotch on the horizon and now it was a yellow disk peeking over the trees. The breeze coming off the coast was cool, but he could no longer see his breath. Birds chirped, somewhere a dog barked, and children laughed, but there was no Bo.

  Watching the house, Zach’s hatred for Bo boiled within him like a witch’s brew. Somebody should kill him. Why not me? I have every right to. Get back here Bo so I can finish this!

  He was so consumed by his own thoughts that he didn’t hear Bo’s Cadillac approach. Leisurely, the car pulled into the driveway and stopped. The bodyguard exited and then Bo.

  Why were you out so early, Bo? As he watched the man through the scope, Zach tried to control his breathing. His heart pounded in his chest and thumped in his ears.

  Zach sucked in a deep breath and placed his finger on the trigger. Why not kill him now? Bo spoke a few words to the driver and then walked casually toward the house. He supplied mom with booze and drugs. She’s in a coma because of him. He nearly killed her. Pull the trigger! Kill him!

  But he didn’t.

  Bo stepped into the house.

  He cursed and closed his eyes. Zach, you’re a coward, a worthless coward!

  Bo stumbled backward out of the house and almost fell to the ground.

  Four Hispanic men poured out.

  Zach pressed his eye to the scope. MS-13? It looks like the same guys. Is that Cruz? How did he get out?

  The bodyguard pulled his gun.

  Two of the gang members shot him.

  Zach gasped.

  Bo screamed like a girl.

  Cruz pushed Bo toward the Cadillac. “Come on, let’s take a ride.”

  Zach was surprised how much he could hear in the stillness of early morning.

  Stepping on the bodyguard’s arm, one of the other men pulled the gun from the fallen man’s hand, stuffed it in his pocket and walked on.

  Behind Bo was his car. Around him the gang members formed an ever tightening semi-circle.

  “I haven’t been able to find him. He hasn’t been at his house for days!” Bo nearly screamed.

  That’s because I’ve been spending most of my time watching you.

  “What about his mommy and daddy?” Cruz asked.

  Bo’s head twitched from person to person. “His dad is dead. Mom is in a coma.”

  Gee, did we miss each other at the hospital?

  “That’s too bad,” Cruz said. “You haven’t been very useful, and now I don’t see that you would be any help.”

  “Sister. He has a sister.”

  “See, now wasn’t that easy. She knows where he is. Let’s go find her.”

  Quickly they pushed Bo into the car and sped away.

  Vicki! Zach gulped, and then jumped to his feet with the realization that his sister was at the hospital. No, it’s DeLynn at the house. What will they do when they find her?

  Slinging the rifle on his back, Zach ran into the forest. With panic-induced speed he sprinted in the direction of his home as he tried to come up with a plan. The car will have to take the road around Palmer Ridge. Images of trails and topography flashed through his mind. The first part of the path went uphill, but the last portion was mostly down. It would be tough, but he might be able to arrive before the car.

  He knew DeLynn had a cell phone, now he wished he did.

  He ran.

  He prayed.

  God, I know I wanted to kill Bo, but please don’t let DeLynn be hurt just because I’m no good. Please keep Vicki at the hospital. Please keep DeLynn safe.

  Branches smacked his face and arms as he ran with fear-inspired haste along the trail. Within minutes sweat rolled down his forehead. His heart rate climbed as his feet raced up the hill. Breathing came in quick rasps.

  Where he could, he left the path and scampered up the hill instead of follo
wing the gradual incline and switchbacks of the trail.

  He stumbled, tore his jeans and felt the warm dampness of blood, but any first-aid would have to wait.

  Reaching the ridgeline he bent over to catch his breath. When he could, he wiped the sweat from his brow, stood erect, and unzipped his coat. Still taking in great drafts of air, he searched the highway hundreds of feet below for any sign of Bo’s car. There was none.

  Many times he had stood in this spot taking in the vista of the valley below, but not this time. After a quick look at the cut on his leg, and a deep breath, he took off on the downhill portion of his run.

  By the time he reached the road he was breathing heavily. Using the tree line for cover he ran along the road. Nearing a short bridge over a creek, he stepped from the trees. Normally, several cars would be traveling along here during the day. Zach looked up and down the empty road. Who could find or afford gas? Then he answered his own question. Bo could, but where is his car now?

  He spat, took a deep breath and ran on toward his home.

  The other side of this hill is my house, but if I stay on the road I risk being seen. With a sigh he ran up the last hill.

  As he neared the rusty blue trailer he heard a car pull up. Aware of his heavy breathing, he dared not approach any closer until he could be silent.

  When his breathing was normal, Zach inched toward his home. Staying low he used the brush as cover. He caught glimpses of Cruz, Bo and the others, but couldn’t understand what was being said. He edged slowly closer, just as he had done many times when hunting a deer or elk. When he was behind a moss and fern covered stump, he saw Cruz holding a gun to Bo’s back as the two stood in the driveway. Another gang member leaned against the car.

  Zach was sure he was close enough to hear, but no one was saying anything. Carefully he removed the rifle from his back and, using the scope, turned to the trailer as a commotion came from inside.

  Two thugs dragged a tearful DeLynn from the house and forced her to her knees about ten feet from Bo.

  Zach’s heart pounded in his ears. His finger touched the trigger.

  DeLynn leaned forward into Zach’s line of fire.

  His finger jumped off the trigger.

  “Now that we’ve got the sister, we don’t need you,” Cruz said.