This We Will Defend

by C. A. Rudolph

“Baby,” Sasha purred, “do you ever question any of this?”

  “Question what?”

  “What we’re doing…what we’re doing here,” Sasha droned.

  “Heh…there’s no time to question it,” Danny said. “We got too much shit to do. We’re just trying to survive here, Sasha. Like everyone else.”

  “This isn’t just about us surviving. There’s more to it than that.”

  “Such as?” Danny pondered.

  Sasha stirred. She couldn’t help herself anymore. Danny would either listen to her for once or continue to dismiss her. Either way, she had to get things off her chest.

  “Damien has turned this into a sick, twisted game. He’s pretending the world is his own personal devil’s playground. We’re not fighting for territory or survival anymore. We’re going out of our way to hurt innocent people. We’re destroying all the lives we come across now. It’s like some sick Mad Max movie spin-off or something.”

  “Sasha, you better get with the fucking program, and get it done with the quickness,” Danny said. “There are no innocent people left in the world. And this whole thing is bigger than you and me—it’s bigger than all of us.” He grabbed her roughly and shook her. “And in case you’ve forgotten, that’s our president you’re talking about—and he ain’t pretending.”

  “He’s just a man,” Sasha muttered.

  “He is our leader,” said Danny fiercely, “and you’re openly disrespecting him in the presence of an officer. I’m his sergeant-at-arms, Sasha. I could kill you for what you just said. I should kill you for it. Don’t you get that?”

  “Then kill me,” she uttered. “Kill me and get it over with. If we keep living our lives this way, we’re all going to be dead soon anyway. This type of thing can’t go on forever…it can’t.”

  Danny released his grip on his wife’s arms. He wanted to hurt her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  “I think you’re forgetting what’s at stake here, Sasha. I think you’ve forgotten how bad it was and how far he’s taken us. We all swore our lives to the MC and to him. I personally would follow that man into a lake of fire if he asked me to.”

  “You already have.”

  Her response was met with Danny’s sudden backhand to her right jaw. She yelped and fell to her knees. Hearing the altercation behind her, the young girl cowered on the bed and started to cry.

  “You stupid tramp!” Danny growled. “You’re mine! I am the one responsible for you! You can’t act this way; don’t you get that?”

  Sasha sat on the floor, her legs pinned underneath her weight. She wiped her bloodied mouth with the back of her hand. Danny continued.

  “You make your decision, Sasha, and you make it today. Either you’re with us, or you’re not. And I don’t need to remind you what happens to you if you decide you’re not.”

  Danny walked to the door, opened it, and stood motionless for a moment on the threshold. He looked over his shoulder at his wife of many years. He remembered the day he’d married her. She’d been so beautiful then. Her face and body had changed so much since—the collapse having taken a toll on her, but it had done so equally to everyone. He remembered how seductive her smile had been and how drawn to her he’d felt, even after knowing that she’d been intimate with much of the brotherhood—whether willingly or unwillingly. Her face was bleeding now and it looked as though he had knocked out one of her teeth. He started to feel bad for what he’d done.

  After taking his eyes off her for a second, Danny turned to face her and was met with a barrage of stout punches to his face and stomach, followed by a fierce front kick to his groin. He hollered in pain with each subsequent blow and fell to his knees. Once there, he was met with Sasha’s knee to his face. He could hear the cartilage in his nose pop when it made contact. His vision filled with stars and he fell backward and cowered into a fetal position.

  “You bastard!” Sasha snarled with contempt. She spit out the bloodied tooth that Danny had knocked free from her mouth onto the floor beside him. “That’s the last time you ever hit me.”

  Chapter 15

  “The reason why daughters love their dad the most is…that there is at least one man in the world who will never hurt her.”

  —Anonymous

  Dolly Sods Wilderness

  Monongahela National Forest

  Tucker County, West Virginia

  Approximately two years earlier

  Alan Russell followed his daughter along Blackbird Knob trail on the final day of a weekend backpacking trip that had been filled with remarkable sights and sounds. The memories of the excursion were profound and extensive and would no doubt last them both a lifetime. On the first day of their trip, Alan had led the way to provide Lauren with some basic orienteering lessons. Once she felt comfortable, she’d volunteered to take the lead and act as scout—a role she’d decidedly continued for the remainder of the trip. The nearly eighteen thousand acres that made up Dolly Sods Wilderness had been christened with the ‘wilderness’ moniker for good reason. The trails sometimes didn’t appear to be trails at all. Many were overgrown due to absence of use. Most lacked the blazes and markings found on more popular trails in the backcountry. Water crossings were precarious and a regular occurrence. The environment was rugged. Challenging. And sometimes, nearly impossible to navigate.

  Lauren’s confidence as an outdoorswoman had increased as the miles passed under her feet. She was beginning to learn to trust her eyes and ears, her gut instincts, and how not to rely so steadfastly on the go-to GPS applications that were a tap away on her smartphone. With cell phone service as spotty as it was along the Allegheny Plateau, this was an altogether good thing. The Garmin Etrex Legend she kept in her pack for emergencies had never left the pocket she kept it in on this trip. Lauren was feeling very much at home now while trekking around in the middle of nowhere and was feeling proud of herself, but she didn’t let it show.

  When Lauren approached a group of established primitive campsites along the banks of Red Creek, all of which were vacant, she stopped and turned to her father, who was several yards behind her.

  “This place…is awesome,” Lauren stated, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. “It would be so cool to camp here.”

  “Why can’t we?” asked her dad. “Looks like a perfect spot to camp for the night to me. It’s probably one of the better spots we’ve seen in Dolly Sods. We shouldn’t pass it up.”

  “Why can’t we?” Lauren repeated in a cynical tone. “Um, because I have school tomorrow, Dad.” There were times when she didn’t know if her father was joking, and this was one of those times.

  “Ah yes, school,” Alan said. After a pause to take a look around, he continued, “But…it’s only a mile, mile-and-a-half hike back to the car in the morning. You and I can do that easy.”

  “You’re confusing me,” Lauren said. “Do you want to camp here tonight or not?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay. That’s a yes,” Lauren said. “We’ll have to leave early, then…otherwise I’ll never make it on time.” She dropped her pack on the ground and took a moment to stretch.

  Alan dropped his pack to his side and raised his hands above his head to stretch. “Am I going to see straight A’s again this semester?”

  “There might be a B in there somewhere.”

  “Then I don’t care if you’re late,” Alan said. “I don’t even care if you’re absent for a day. Or two.”

  Lauren tilted her head to get a view of her father’s face in her peripheral. “What?” she asked. “Dad—what are you talking about?”

  “I was thinking about keeping you out of school tomorrow anyway. Well…all week, actually,” Alan said.

  Lauren finished stretching and turned to face her father. She crossed her arms, one over the other, and stared at him anticipatively. She said nothing while waiting for him to explain himself.

  “I stumbled into an opportunity for the two of us that I think you might appreciate,” he explained.
/>   Lauren began pulling out her sleeping gear from her pack, which included a twenty-degree Marmot Ion sleeping bag. It offered more than enough warmth for its intended occupant this time of year, even in the sometimes unforgiving climate that plagued the higher elevations of the Alleghenies. At over four thousand and eight hundred feet, Spruce Knob was the highest point in West Virginia. It was just south of their current location and it wasn’t unusual to see it covered in snow in the fall months.

  “An opportunity, huh? And what would that be?” Lauren mused.

  “I had a conversation with Dave Graham the other day,” Alan said. “Maybe I forgot to mention it.”

  Lauren smiled and shook her head. “How did I know that your explanation would somehow involve him?”

  “No idea,” Alan said as he began to empty his pack on the ground near the fire pit.

  “Did he mention me?”

  “By name, actually,” Alan said. “First and middle.”

  “Yeah. He’s a funny guy,” Lauren said. “He decided to nickname me ‘GI Janey’. He’s been calling me that for literally a month now.”

  “Yeah. I gathered that.”

  “So what’s the plan? Are we going to the beach with him or something?” Lauren joked.

  Alan snickered. “Not quite.”

  “Then what?”

  Alan paused while he took a stick and dug into the fire pit to see if any leftover embers were present that could be used to start a fire. The pit was cold, indicating it hadn’t been used recently—and he wasn’t surprised. Dolly Sods wasn’t the most popular place to hike, camp, or backpack this time of year. Only particularly seasoned outdoorsmen or those who preferred near-absolute solitude visited its vast intolerant landscape this close to the winter months. There was nothing like an unexpected cold front to shun the underprepared or the unwilling.

  “Dave has been working with some ex-military buddies of his at Point Blank lately,” Alan said. “He asked me if I thought you’d be interested in swinging by and meeting them—and maybe doing some training with them.”

  “Really,” Lauren cooed as she looked up at her dad, her youthful curiosity in full bloom. As soon as she responded, she got curious. “What kind of training?”

  “More advanced stuff than what you’ve been doing, I’d imagine,” Alan wagered, even though he knew much more than he let on. “He’s calling it an FTX, so I assume it’s infantry training.”

  “Field training exercise,” Lauren inserted, as if she were reading out the acronym’s definition from a field manual.

  “Spoken like a true Wikipedia expert,” Alan jeered.

  Lauren shook her head and smiled. “So I guess you’ve concluded that what I’m learning now isn’t enough?” She paused. “Dad, those classes have been pretty intense.”

  “This won’t be a class per se. In fact, it’s not part of any curriculum there at all. This is actual field training. Dave’s been putting in a lot of work. He’s been vetting these guys for years—it should be a good learning experience for both of us.”

  “Are they guys he served with?” pondered Lauren.

  “A couple,” Alan said. “There’s a few spec ops guys, at least one SEAL, and I think a few Marines. He wasn’t specific, but I don’t think he was trying to be.”

  “Jarheads? That’s surprising.”

  “You’re telling me,” Alan said with a smile. “I could’ve sworn Dave was allergic to Marines.”

  Lauren giggled. “So what’s the occasion? I imagine it has to be something pretty serious.”

  Alan laughed. “Come on, L. You’re smarter than that. What do you think he’s doing? What do you think we’ve been doing?” He paused. “He’s getting ready for the shit to hit the fan.”

  Lauren smirked. “Ah yes. Because we all know that day is coming…sooner than any of us think. The day…that ghastly day when the ‘excrement assaults the rotating oscillator’.”

  “Nice pull,” Alan said.

  “Sorry. But I laughed my ass off when I read it in your book,” Lauren said with a giggle.

  Alan smiled. “I got that from an old ham radio buddy who worked for DC Metro,” he said. “There wasn’t a lot of humor in the book…I hoped that would add a little to it—and maybe make it more marketable.”

  “Yeah. It sucks that it didn’t take off like you wanted. It has a lot of valuable information.”

  “Yeah, it does. But information like that isn’t marketable to everyone. Only a certain type of person knows it’s value. And it becomes invaluable after it’s too late. I figure it’ll sell great once the world goes to hell,” Alan said with a grin. “The already-printed paperbacks will, at any rate—maybe I’ll use them for bartering coin.”

  “I don’t care if it didn’t sell. You’re still a famous author in my book,” Lauren said proudly.

  “Thank you, kiddo. That means a lot to me. And I’m really glad you read it.”

  The shortened fall day having turned into night, Lauren and Alan sat on their folded-over inflatable Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Xlite sleeping pads, both enjoying a tasty freeze-dried dinner entrée in front of a blazing hot campfire. As usual, Alan had brought with him a pint of his favorite liquor in an ultralight backpacking flask. After all, it was tradition. He had managed to save some for his last night in the backcountry and was taking small sips intermittently with his dinner.

  “What did you bring this time?” Lauren asked as she motioned to the blue and green striped flask in her father’s hand.

  “Southern Comfort,” Alan said. “One hundred proof—the good stuff.”

  Lauren nodded and took a bite of her lasagna. It would have tasted bland if she hadn’t dumped a pile of salt and garlic powder on it that she always carried with her in ultralight containers.

  “Want a bite?” Alan asked as he presented the flask to her.

  “Maybe a small one,” Lauren said. She took the flask and poured a trivial amount of the caramel-colored liquor on top of her tongue, causing her to wince. “Whoa…that’s really strong,” she gasped.

  “Told ya. It’s the good stuff. It’s the ultralight backpacker’s mantra, L. Carry as little weight as possible and that means, if you bring liquor, it has to be the strongest you can tolerate.”

  Lauren smiled slightly and nodded. She reached for her Nalgene water bottle and took a large swallow of water. When she saw the beams of flashlights coming down the trail, she nervously pointed them out to her father.

  “Visitors,” she said, her eyes fixated on the approaching lights.

  Alan turned his body enough to see the hikers approaching, but not enough to make his movement perceptible.

  “I see them,” he said calmly. He gestured to the hip pack where Lauren kept a handgun he’d given to her just before the trip to Dolly Sods. Inside the hip pack was a Glock 27, a subcompact relative of the Glock 22 he’d made hers since running into trouble in the Shenandoah National Park. In addition to being smaller and lighter, it was concealable and provided adequate firepower.

  The expression that Lauren returned to her father put his mind at ease. It was a simple understanding between the two, and it indicated to him that she was aware and that her weapon was ready and available if needed. Alan, a creature of habit, especially in matters of self-defense, always carried his own weapon. But it was reassuring knowing his daughter was also packing.

  “Evenin’,” an older, frail backpacker said as he and a similarly aged female companion with long, white hair pulled into a ponytail approached the campsite. “Any room at the inn?”

  Alan pointed across the trail to where several other vacant campsites were. “Haven’t seen anyone since we got here. Make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you kindly,” the old man said with a smile. He and his companion waved as they passed by, headed toward one of the other campsites.

  “That’s so cute,” Lauren said once the duo left earshot. “I love seeing older couples together.” She sighed. “That is true love.”

  “Yeah. I ag
ree. There’s something to be said about longevity.”

  “They rolled up on us fast,” Lauren said. “I have to admit…it felt for a second like we were back on the Staunton River.”

  Alan nodded as the memories of that fateful day began to engulf his conscious memory. “It’s okay, L. I’m the same way. Lots of things trigger it for me, too. I’ll never be able to get over that day.”

  “That was the first time you shot someone, wasn’t it?” Lauren asked.

  “That was the first and only time I’ve ever shot anyone,” Alan replied with a nod, making sure to emphasize his words. “And I pray I never have to do it again.”

  Lauren put the empty lasagna package into a larger Ziploc along with some other trash items near her. “It was scary enough watching it happen,” she uttered. “I hope I never have to be the one who pulls the trigger.”

  “No one wants to do something like that, L,” Alan said. “But wanting to do something and having to do something are two different animals.”

  “Sounds like you’ve found a way to convince yourself,” Lauren said sensibly.

  “Maybe I have,” Alan said. “But killing those men still haunts me. And that’s no joke, L. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about it.” He paused. “You know what convinces me that what I did was right? Your face. And your mother’s face. Every time I look at you two, I know I didn’t have a choice. It’s the only thing that’s brought me peace since.”

  Lauren nodded and, after a second, reached for Alan’s flask, which he passed to her after a moment’s hesitation. She went to take a drink, but thought better of it at the last second and handed it back to him with a sheepish grin. “So we’ll be at Point Blank all week, then?” she asked.

  Alan nodded while taking a sip from the flask.

  “And then…that’s it? Or will there be more?”

  “It’s my intention that it continue indefinitely,” Alan said. “The training that you’re doing right now is essential. But after a long talk with Dave, I’m convinced it’s not enough. It’s not going to be enough for you—especially if something really bad ends up happening.”