Dark Days of the After (Book 4): Dark Days of the Enclave

by Schow, Ryan

  “I’m done leaving you to your grief,” he said, cruelly. “I love you. I love my little brother. But this brooding crap has to end.”

  “You act like you’re not coming back,” Boone said.

  “That’s a possibility,” he said.

  Boone just looked at him. Then he said, “You can’t do that. You can’t just come here and say that to me.”

  He leaned in and hugged Boone and it was the saddest thing Felicity had seen in a long time. She saw unmasked fear in Boone’s eyes. This was a broken man listening to the last of his family saying he might crush whatever was left of him.

  She almost got out and said she’d handle things by herself, but she couldn’t say that. When she thought of her mother being hauled out of the house, when she remembered that look in her father’s eyes and recognized it as her own terrified look, she knew what she felt was far worse than what Boone might be feeling.

  When he got back in the Blazer, Clay said nothing. For a second, she thought she saw a tear drift down his cheek, but was that possible? Of course it was. She’d seen him cry once on the way back from Salem. But didn’t he tell her he’d had enough damage to his frontal lobe that the doctors said his emotions would never be right again?

  He swiped at the tear, stepped on the gas, found Longwei and the crew waiting at his house with a troop transport, a drone and plenty of hardware. Clay geared up, put two extra cans of gas in the back of the Chicom Jeep he and Felicity were taking, then said, “Anyone who wants to piss, or deuce it, best to do so now.”

  “We’re ready to roll,” Longwei said.

  “Thank you all for doing this for me,” Felicity said, suddenly feeling very guilty for taking these men from their home, and for leaving Five Falls unprotected.

  When they were on the road, Clay finally broke the silence. He asked, “Are you close to your parents?”

  “They’re my entire world,” she said.

  “Brothers or sisters?” he asked. She shook her head. “Boone is my whole life. When our father died, I lost myself. But I dug into life. Turned myself into something I was never meant to be. Or perhaps me being like this was God’s plan for me.”

  “You’re a weapon,” she said.

  “So are you.”

  “I feel like a scared little girl,” she admitted. “A weapon would never talk about wanting to be in love. She’d never gush over someone the way I did over Harper.”

  “That was sweet,” he said with a smile. “Reminds me there is a world left to fight for.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “What do you want out of this life?”

  He checked on their team in the transport in the rear view mirror, and seemed to think about her question for a moment. Just when she figured he wasn’t going to give her an answer, he said, “I just want to kill bad people.”

  She moved over and took his hand in hers, appreciating the warmth of it, the roughness of his palms. Closing her small fingers around him, she said, “There’s more for you than that.”

  He slowly closed his fingers over hers, but didn’t look at her. “You sure?”

  “I know there’s a lot of stuff tumbling around in that head of yours,” she said, “but maybe one day you can make room for something more than war.”

  He looked at her. The wind was blowing her hair around. She brushed it aside, tucked it behind her ear.

  An unguarded smile formed, and she said, “I am not a weapon. Weapons kill things. I want to save my parents because for me, life without them is a life not worth living.”

  “I hope that never changes in you,” he said.

  “Do you want to talk about last night?” she asked, thinking of the way he held her. She wanted to ask if she went into his bed, or if he carried her in there while she was asleep.

  He let go of her hand and said, “We’d better focus on more important things.”

  “Weapons can be human, too,” she said, taking his hand back. “Look at Harper. It was like you saw a ghost with her. Like you’d never seen that side of her.”

  “She was different around you.”

  “She’s human, too.”

  “I guess.”

  “So are you, Clay,” she said, turning her eyes to the road ahead, letting the wind tease her hair. She finally let go of him. “I saw it when we were coming home. By the campfire.”

  “What about the campfire?”

  “I saw you cry.”

  He turned away, scooting his body against the side of the door. Still refusing to look at her, he said, “I’ll tell you what, when we get out of this thing, when we get your parents back, if you want to talk about this, I’ll talk about it with you then.”

  That said, he now looked at her.

  She glanced back at him, held his eyes with a frown. “You say that because you know that once we save them, I’ll go back home and we won’t see each other again.”

  He grinned, then said, “You know how to use that gun?”

  “I can shoot just fine.”

  “Because that was a gift I arranged for you out of the goodness of Harper’s heart.”

  “It was sweet, thank you.”

  “When we get there, we’re going to get the lay of the land, see if we can find a strategic advantage. For now, I need you to tell me everything you can about the airport and its layout, the surrounding buildings, the amount of firepower you saw there, any possible infiltration points you might have seen.”

  Putting aside her curiosities in him, turning her focus instead to the rescue mission ahead, she told Clay everything she knew about the location, what she felt might be the best entry points, and what she knew of the nearby buildings.

  When she was done, he looked at her and said, “We’re going to get your parents out of there, Felicity. This will be my second gift to you.”

  With her window down, her face in the wind and her hair tossing about, she felt good for the first time since her mother was taken. When this was over, they were going to be a family again, she thought. And then they’d get the hell out of Roseburg. She snuck a look at Clay, wondered if she could talk with him about her family relocating to Five Falls. Right then, for some odd reason, when she looked at him, it was in a different light.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I think I feel happy,” she said, “and maybe a bit hopeful.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When they arrived in Roseburg, the two Chicom vehicles moved cautiously through the streets going less than five miles per hour, both teams armed and ready. They got within a quarter of a mile of the airport, parked on the side of the road, then scoped out the terrain ahead.

  Moving swiftly, covertly, they found the detention facility, all of them shocked at how many people were locked inside the chain link fences.

  Back at the vehicles, Longwei’s recon man sent a high altitude drone in for an overview. Studying the bird’s eye view, the drone team gathered together to determine the best point of incursion. This happened to be behind the piles of burning bodies.

  When the team returned and everyone was in agreement about entry points and three potential exit points, the team covertly made their way to the backside of the camp.

  Dressed down to their civvies to blend in with the other prisoners, Longwei cut a hole in the fence line and moved inside the camp staying low. The heat of the burn pile brought forth a thin layer of sweat he wiped away quickly. When he was in position, he rose slightly, saw the two men working the body pile, shot them both with suppressed fire.

  The ROE defined earlier was as such: when you were close enough to enough men, open fire on them. Kill everything you shoot with one round. They didn’t know how many men were in the Department of Transportation building, but they had an answer for that, too. Rather, Clay had the answer. It was a full stick of dynamite he’d pulled out of his bag.

  “We came here for Felicity’s parents,” he said, “but looking at this crap, I’m thinking we need to wipe our collective asses with these clowns. Does anyone
have any objections?”

  “Don’t get killed doing this for me,” Felicity said.

  “This isn’t for you anymore,” one of Longwei’s guys said. “This is for America. This is for us. We hate every last one of these cockroaches, so if something happens to us, it’s not on you. Not any of it, understand?”

  She nodded.

  They quickly slipped in, armed, ready to go. The men spread out. Felicity moved into the masses, head on a swivel, but not so much that she attracted extra attention. She looked up at the nearby buildings, saw a single overhead camera, but wasn’t sure if it worked.

  They could be watching right now, she told herself.

  She needed to be more conspicuous. Or the camera could be as dead as every other piece of electronics around. Either way, she’d know soon enough.

  Clay moved to the edge of the crowd, spotting the Department of Transportation building. He counted the amount of men on guard at seven. He had ten rounds plus one in his Glock, a spare mag in his back pocket, and the short-fused stick of dynamite in the other pocket along with the lighter. That’s when he saw two decapitated heads on pikes in the middle of the runway.

  They were standing in a silver bucket filled with sand. “Whose heads are those?” he asked the person next to him.

  “Dissidents,” the downtrodden woman said. “You didn’t see?”

  “I must have missed it,” he replied.

  “You must be blind and deaf then, because that’s all everyone’s talking about.”

  “What were their names?”

  “How do I know?” she asked, irritated. She sounded Italian. “They’re Mexican immigrants or something. Not illegals, just…I don’t know.”

  Nudging the woman next to her, she leaned in and asked, “What were their names?”

  “Whose names?” a similar looking woman asked. She gave a nod to the heads on the two pikes. “Oh, them. Filiberto and Rain? Reina? Something like that.”

  “Filiberto and Reina?” Clay asked with an impossible dread building in his gut. His world just turned inside out.

  “Yeah, that’s them.”

  He saw Felicity making her way through the crowds, saw the trajectory and knew she’d see them any minute. She didn’t know it yet, but her world was about to come undone.

  He quickly turned and fired on the seven men he saw, moving swiftly through the crowds, dispensing of the opposition quickly and thoroughly.

  After the seventh shot, the seventh kill, he turned and ran toward the Department of Transportation, seeing the door open and more men spilling out.

  Behind him, he heard Felicity scream.

  Dammit!

  He turned and ducked a few rounds, seeing Felicity staring at the heads. With that, he took down his first four targets before changing out mags. Staying active, he kept zig-sagging and ducking, and once—because it was necessary—he dropped to a knee, took two fast shots, then hopped back up and covered the distance fast. He hit what he hit as they pored out of the building’s only door. These men were so inept, or so unprepared, it was almost unfair. Had they not expected something like this?

  Then again, he was good. But not that good. There was no way he was hitting all of them and not getting hit. He turned and found Longwei behind him, on his five o’clock, moving with him, shooting in tandem with him.

  At the Department of Transportation, they flanked the main doors and looked at each other. He saw Felicity walking their way, fast, gun out, face absolutely wrecked in every way.

  “Oh no,” Clay said, horrified by what he was seeing.

  “What?” Longwei asked, looking at Felicity.

  “The heads on the pikes?” Clay said.

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s her parents.”

  “Oh, God.”

  He knew what they needed to do. “Shoot to maim, don’t get either of us killed.”

  “Don’t you dare go in that building without me!” Felicity roared, breaking into a run.

  “Go,” Clay said. “Now!”

  The two of them breached the building, firing on people they saw, Longwei screaming “Who is in command? Where is he?”

  Terrified people were pointing, and when they were done, Clay shot either their legs or their shoulders.

  “Clay!” the voice screamed from inside building.

  Felicity.

  “Go, go, go!” Clay hissed. Longwei was moving. Clay turned to deal with Felicity. “You can’t just go charging into a hornet’s nest!”

  “They cut off their heads!” she screamed, shrill, her tear-stained face a mask of murderous rage.

  “Let us secure the building, and the airport, then you can have your revenge,” he said, putting out his hand to stop her.

  She slapped it away, tried to push past him. He blocked her, stood his ground. She kicked at his balls, which he blocked, then threw a punch at his face.

  He couldn’t believe this was happening.

  Ducking her shot, he moved in quick, spun around her and wrapped her in a choke hold.

  Two men emerged from a nearby office, guns raised. Even with his arm around her, Felicity lifted her weapon and shot them both. Then she raised the gun his way, right up at his head. He honestly didn’t know if she would shoot him, or if he would do any different should the roles be reversed.

  He increased the pressure twofold, heard her gagging, watched the strength bleed from her arm. The gun fell from her hand, landing hard on the floor.

  Just then, two of Longwei’s men raced by him, one of them slowing, looking down at a very unconscious Felicity.

  “She dead?” he asked.

  “No,” he said. “Longwei is in there. Go!”

  He stood, collected her gun, then moved her unconscious body aside and went after Longwei.

  By the time he got in back, Longwei and the two other men had the detention facility’s top brass under control. There were four of them, their faces bleeding from what appeared to be a swift and brutal beating. The rest of Longwei’s men poured into the site to secure it.

  “Don’t kill them,” Clay told Longwei.

  “I wasn’t sure what you were doing,” Longwei said, “but I get it now.”

  “Maybe you can explain it to us,” one of the guys said.

  “They killed Felicity’s parents,” Longwei said. “These are her kills, otherwise that girl’s going to be wrecked for life.”

  “Oh my God,” one of the men said. “Those heads…were they…?”

  “Yeah,” Clay added. Then, looking the four Chicoms over, he said, “Which one of you chicken dicks cut off those people’s heads?”

  No one said anything.

  “Every single one of you is going to rue the day you did that,” he said. “Let’s get them out front. I’ll get Felicity.”

  “What happened to her?” Longwei asked.

  “He choked her out,” one of the guys said, looking at Clay funny. But then he said, “It was the right thing to do. She could’ve gotten herself killed.”

  As Clay was walking out, he heard one of the men say, “You’re never going to guess who we found here.”

  “Who?” Longwei said.

  “Quan and his team in a warehouse.”

  At that point, Clay didn’t care about anything but Felicity.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Felicity woke up, her brain not connected right, her senses off kilter. Was she laying down? How did she get here? She pushed herself up off the floor, looked around and then tried to stand. Clay was suddenly there, taking her hand, helping her up.

  “What happened?” she said.

  He pulled her into a deep hug, and that’s when everything came flooding back. A hitch in her throat took her by surprise, and then their faces rushed into her head. A sob broke loose, a terrible, wrenching sound.

  Clay hugged her deeper, even as she started to fight him. But the fight in her was gone. She felt herself raise out of her body, then slam back down in it. The pain was too much. God, she needed to get awa
y from all this pain! As the grief washed over her, the rage began flooding in.

  He said, “It’s okay, I have you now.”

  “Clay,” she said, his name filled with so much agony. She cried out again, her voice tortured. “Clay, they’re gone.”

  “I know, Sweetheart,” he said, “It’ll be okay.”

  “No it won’t,” she sobbed. And with that, she pulled the dynamite out of his pants pocket and said, “Give me the lighter.”

  Reluctantly he let go of her, and then he pulled the lighter out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  “Out,” she said, wiping her eyes. She looking around at everyone in the building. In that moment, she was so lost in her own grief she didn’t realize none of the people there were actually dead. They were shot, wounded for sure, but they were still alive.

  “You first,” Clay said.

  “Is that why you stopped me?” she asked.

  “We need to know who did this,” he said. “In order to find this out, I didn’t need you walking into a bullet.”

  “Those men…” she said, referring to the men Longwei and his team hustled out of the building.

  “One of them ordered it,” Clay explained. “Maybe one of them even did it.”

  She nodded her head, walked outside, waited for Clay to follow. When he did, she lit the stick of dynamite, threw it deep into the building, then shut the door and walked toward the masses. She and Clay ducked as the building behind them exploded, glass blowing out into the runway apron.

  With fire in her eyes, she walked up to the four Chicom prisoners, all of them on their knees with their hands cuffed behind their backs. She kicked each of them in the chest, savoring the pain that overcame them.

  “Which one of you did it?” she asked, her voice ragged, shaky. “Where is the man who cut off my parents’ heads?!”

  No one said anything, but several of the prisoners pointed to one particular man. She turned to Clay. He was already handing the Springfield to her; she took it, chambered a round, then killed the three other men, one by one, leaving the one everyone had pointed to alive.