This We Will Defend

by C. A. Rudolph

  Two of the slugs had torn through Michael’s carotid artery and, as such, had become Kristen’s primary focus. In a conventional world, a gunshot wound such as this would’ve been easily treatable, but the bullets were fired at close range and their velocity had caused a great deal of ballistic trauma. And this was most definitely not a conventional world. Despite everything Kristen did to save his life, Michael died of excessive blood loss. As he slipped away in her arms, Kristen screamed and prayed and clung to him.

  When the battle at the northern end of the valley concluded and the areas were confirmed cleared of intruders, the entire community converged onto the Masons’ home to regroup and to show their support for their fallen friend and neighbor. A huddle of emotional support, comprised of almost every female in the valley, formed around Kristen as she stood hysterical and unresponsive in the Masons’ yard, weeping and begging God for answers. Michelle Russell, Kim Mason, Amy Saunders, Sarah Taylor, and Whitney Schmidt all offered their condolences, embraces, and their shoulders for Kristen to cry on. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

  At one point, Kristen’s cries had become uncontrollable, and after appealing to be left alone for a while, the ladies had no other choice than to let her be, and she went on a walk to grieve alone in the Masons’ yard. As she passed by the last surviving member of the Marauders MC, he decided to use the opportunity to revile her, doing so at the absolute worst time imaginable. Deliberately and without any reservation whatsoever, Kristen retrieved a rifle that had been dropped on the ground by one of his dead comrades. She placed it impassively to Mickey’s head and blew his brains out onto the tree he was chained to. Many came running when they heard the shot. When they arrived, Kristen had already dropped the rifle to the ground and was walking away, arms crossed in front of her as if nothing had happened.

  Johannes Ackermann, a German-born American immigrant and veteran of the United States Navy, was discovered to be the second team’s first victim. He was found lying on top of the grave he’d dug for and buried his wife in not even two weeks earlier, bloodied, beaten, and stabbed to death. A large bowie-style knife that had severed his spinal cord had been left in place. The blood trail that led back into his home filled in the missing pieces of the story.

  Mr. Ackermann had been attacked in his own living room and left to die there. Unable to use his legs, he’d somehow managed to drag himself across his property to his wife’s final resting place so that he could spend his last moments with her—separated only by the earth that lay on top of her body. His pain was now over and he was with his wife once again—having only been separated from her by a matter of weeks on earth. It was a tragic, yet strangely romantic ending for both of them.

  Michael Perry was buried on the back of his property, far away from the heavy equipment ‘graveyard’ that Kristen used to give him such grief about. His service was reverent and brief and every person living in the valley attended, even the rarely seen Brady families. Each attendee had a moment to say a few words, whether it was a simple thank you, an excerpt from a poem, or a verse from the Bible. Afterward, Kristen requested that she be left alone to mourn. She put in a request with her neighbors to help her to relocate elsewhere—to another home somewhere in the valley. She no longer wanted to live where she and her husband had once lived together. There were just too many memories there and she no longer wanted to come home to them.

  Johannes Ackermann’s grave had been meticulously dug directly beside where he’d buried his wife, Erika. Fred Mason, a fellow veteran, wanted to see that Mr. Ackermann was given a proper military funeral—or at least, a service that came as close to one as they could manage.

  Peter, Bryan, and Norman combined their efforts to build a wooden coffin for the deceased veteran. Fred removed the American flag that Mr. Ackermann had flying on a mast in his front yard, to be draped over his coffin during the memorial ceremony. Bo Brady’s son, Austin, Junior Brady’s son, Trey, and Ricky Brady’s sons, Tommy and Wayne, had requested to act as the honor guards and carried Mr. Ackermann to his final resting place. Christian, John, and Lee acted as the rifle firing detail. Once Fred delivered a short eulogy in lieu of a final benediction, the rifle detail hoisted their guns and fired three succinct shots into the air, one shot at a time.

  Lauren stood in the middle of the crowd of her fellow neighbors, her eyes and ears fully preoccupied with the burial service her community had so honorably put together for her fallen neighbor. Each time one of the shots went off, it startled her, causing her to jump. After the last shot, a moment of dreamlike silence followed as the wind miraculously picked up speed through the trees. Lauren watched as Fred solicited the help of the younger Bradys to reverently and properly tri-fold Mr. Ackermann’s Old Glory. No one was there to play ‘Taps’, but she could imagine it playing in her mind.

  Two funerals in as many days, Lauren thought. She looked upward to the blueish-white sky and closed her eyes, knowing that there was still one more funeral left that she needed to attend. One that was now long overdue.

  Chapter 32

  Trout Run Valley

  Hardy County, West Virginia

  Sunday, October 24th (Present day)

  Lauren and Grace stood alone and silent at the edge of Angel’s grave site, having remained long after the service had concluded and the others attending had moved on. Lauren had her hands placed in her pockets and a gentle breeze blew her hair sporadically across her emotionally detached face. Grace’s hands were at her sides and she appeared emotionally and physically drained. She stared pensively at the mound of dirt that marked the recently filled-in tomb and the makeshift wooden cross that marked it—which bore the inscription of the name given to the young girl entombed several feet below.

  Grace looked up into the trees when the wind picked up enough strength to bend them and then returned her hard stare at the earth. She exhaled loudly through nearly closed lips. “It’s been a hell of a week, hasn’t it,” she lamented, her voice as sullen as it’d ever been.

  Lauren’s eyebrows lifted. “It’s been a hell of a year.”

  “Yeah,” Grace muttered. She shifted her weight from one hip to the other and kicked a rock around with her foot for a moment as the breeze continued to increase in strength. “Do you ever wonder…who might be next?” she despondently asked.

  Lauren’s response took a moment. “Next?”

  Grace motioned to the hallowed ground in front of them. “The next to be buried here.”

  Lauren turned to look at her sister. Her look implied interest, but she didn’t respond.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot the last couple of days. And I have a sinking suspicion that it’s going to be me,” Grace said.

  Lauren crossed her arms, produced a look of annoyance, and shook her head. “Grace, don’t say that. Don’t say things like that. Not now, okay? Not ever. Please…”

  Grace continued matter-of-factly. “But why not me? You know what happened. I almost died the other day. Hell, I’m surprised it’s taken this long for death to come knocking at my doorstep. If it wasn’t for Christian, there’d be another hole in the ground right over there, and I’d be in it.” Grace paused, stepped slowly forward and pointed to the ground just beyond the grave site before her. “You know, Lauren, I’m not equipped to live in this world. I get that. I realized it the other day. I was perfectly fine in the old world—I had my future all laid out for myself. I was making connections and on my way to finally being successful. Remember how people used to cry sometimes during my solos?”

  “I remember,” Lauren said.

  “I was an entertainer. I had talents that were valuable then…and they were going to take me all the way to the top. Now, they’re just…impractical. And utterly fucking worthless.” She paused. “Just like me.”

  “Grace—”

  “No!” Grace barked. “Let me finish. Even the things I did in my spare time were a waste. I spent so much time with people who didn’t give a damn about me, while you—well
, you were obviously at a shooting range with Dad or on some damn hiking trip in the middle of nowhere. While I was busy accomplishing nothing, you were learning how to survive. You were learning how to deal with all this shit.”

  “Grace, please…stop this,” Lauren pleaded.

  “Look at you,” Grace quipped while glaring at her sister, who was wearing the tactical gear she’d worn into battle several days before and had her M4 slung across her back. “You’re like—a friggin natural-born killer or something. Dammit, Lauren…I watched you prance right up to those guys and shoot them without hesitating—like you weren’t even scared. You’ve changed…into something extraordinary and fearless. You were made for this. I don’t know why—you just were. You are all the things that I am not.”

  Lauren turned to face her sister, but didn’t say anything. Grace had developed a mood completely uncharacteristic to anything Lauren had witnessed before.

  “Don’t get me wrong, sis,” Grace said, sensing that her sister had become agitated. “I’m glad you can do the things you do. Without people like you, the rest of us would be screwed—completely screwed. Especially me.”

  Lauren reached out and gently placed both of her hands on her sister’s head. She pulled Grace close and touched her forehead gently with her own. Grace closed her eyes and her lips began to quiver.

  “Grace, you are better than you think,” Lauren said, in a slow, concise, encouraging manner. She wanted her sister to hear and absorb each word. “There isn’t some instruction manual out there on how to live in a world like this. And you may not know it because you can’t see it for yourself, but you’ve already changed so much since being here, and you’re still adapting. You’re not helpless and you’re damn sure not worthless.”

  “It’s hard not to feel that way,” muttered Grace.

  “You need to give yourself a break—stop being so hypercritical of yourself. I think you forget—you’ve had to give up a lot more than most of us. We were just your part time family before…you were forced to leave your entire life behind. I think in a lot of ways, that makes you stronger than me—stronger than anyone I know. You’ll find your place here, and you’ll survive this, just like the rest of us. I know you will. Someday, you’re going to wake up and realize that you can handle everything. It’s just going to hit you. And from that point forward, everything will be different.”

  “How do you know that?” Grace asked as she pulled away. “How in the hell do you know that for a fact?”

  “It’s simple. You and I…have the same blood coursing through our veins.”

  Grace exhaled loudly and managed to pull together something resembling a smile. “Christ, Lauren. You do realize that I’m the older sister here. I’m the one who’s supposed to give you advice.”

  Lauren and Grace hugged tightly and exchanged a pair of thoughtful looks as they pulled away.

  “Walking away from everything wasn’t easy for me,” said Grace. “I do miss my mom. I miss the talks we had. Michelle is great—don’t get me wrong—she’s always been a friend to me, but it’s not the same. You’re lucky to have her around.”

  Lauren nodded slightly.

  Grace added, “And believe it or not, I think about dad now, every day.”

  “Ditto.”

  “Does it make you sad?”

  “Not anymore. There was a point when I felt devastated, but not anymore. Dad wouldn’t want any of us to be sad or worry about him. He’d want us to make the best of things.”

  “I know it sounds selfish, but I miss him a lot more now than I did before,” Grace said. “When I knew that I could see him whenever I wanted to, it wasn’t that big a deal to me. If I’d known the world was going to change like it did, I would’ve never stayed away so much. I would’ve spent more time with him—and with you. I’m sorry for considering you guys my part time family.”

  “It’s okay—I think it’s just human nature to take things…and the people we love for granted,” Lauren said. “He never held anything against you, if that makes you feel better. Dad cherished every minute you came around. I swear, when you’d call or text him, he’d drop everything, no matter what it was. It used to make me jealous of how he’d prioritize his time when you were there, but I understood why he did it.”

  Grace smiled broadly. “That’s funny. I never knew that. I figured—I mean, I knew he cared, but it’s different hearing it.”

  “Cared? That, sister, is the understatement of the century.”

  “I know—sorry. Dammit…I just wish he was here. There’s so many things I want to say to him.”

  “Me too,” Lauren said. “I wish he was here more than anything else in the world. But he’s not, Grace. And you and I need to figure things out without him.”

  Grace nodded and wiped the remnants of her tears from her face. “I know…and I promise I’ll try. I just might need a little help sometimes.”

  “You remember what you said to me in my room the other day?” Lauren asked. “You said, ‘We are in this thing together—till the bitter end.’ There’s a reason why you were with us on the day the world changed, Grace. It put us both in this thing together—until the end. You’re my sister—there’s no way I’ll ever leave you alone. I promise.”

  Lauren looked back toward the shed and noticed that Christian was standing there, trying his best to mind his own business. He looked back at her timidly, not wanting to invade the private moment that she and her sister were having together.

  “Something tells me, though, that being alone is going to be the least of your worries,” Lauren said lightheartedly.

  Grace turned her body to the side and caught sight of Christian, who was now making his presence more evident. She waved and smiled playfully at him. “Sister, I think you may be right,” she admitted. “But I think there might be a little more to it than that. Listen…as usual, I really appreciate the talk.”

  “Anytime.”

  Grace turned away abruptly and began walking in the direction where Christian was standing. After several paces, Lauren called to her and she stopped and turned around, a look of playful uncertainty on her face.

  Lauren took a couple of steps in her sister’s direction. “What did you mean by that?”

  “Mean by what?”

  “When you said, ‘There might be a little more to it.’”

  Grace smiled. She pranced excitedly back over to Lauren and put her mouth to her sister’s ear. Then, in a nervous voice, Grace whispered, “I think he’s falling in love with me.”

  Epilogue

  Lauren pedaled the purple Mongoose mountain bike that she’d acquired as hard and as fast as she could, occasionally looking back over her shoulder to verify her best friend remained close. Madison was a varsity soccer and softball player and had been the quintessential tomboy since toddlerhood. She was more than physically fit enough to keep up with the pace. Still, Lauren couldn’t help but feel preoccupied with her friend’s current mental state in lieu of what was occurring around them. Lauren also felt that maybe her insight into the situation and how eager she’d been to share what she knew had made matters worse for Madison—but Lauren wasn’t one to ignore the truth, or speak it.

  Commercial electrical power was off all over town. Hundreds of gasoline and electrically powered cars had suddenly been disabled and had stalled in place—some drifting and colliding into others inadvertently. Computers that would normally be still up and running on auxiliary power during a normal power outage were now dead to the world—the humming inverters inside their universal power supplies unable to carry a tune. Her smartphone was unresponsive and she’d found her car in the same condition. Madison had an older-model cell phone that appeared to be working, but she didn’t have service to make a call with or even send a text. It was evident to Lauren that whatever was occurring around them wasn’t normal. It was serious—possibly even life-altering.

  A combination of automobile engines and other vehicle noises, building air conditioners, and most things unde
r power—the ambient white noise that usually filled the outdoors had gone eerily silent. All that could be heard now were sporadic human voices, most of which were exhibiting confusion, frustration, and anger. It was surreal—almost like being in a dream where everything that was happening didn’t make any sense.

  Not long after their jaunt started, the duo found that riding on the roads was approaching impossible. Streets were practically inundated with stranded vehicles and hordes of bewildered motorists to go along with them. Hundreds of car doors had been left standing wide open, which only served to further block their initially elected path, forcing the girls to ride their bikes on the sidewalks instead.

  Lauren squeezed the handbrakes to slow her bike and took a moment to scan the scene along the busy thoroughfare of Pleasant Valley Road. Packs of vexed drivers, trying to make sense of what was going on around them, were now standing sporadically in the middle of the road and had even begun to pepper the sidewalk. Lauren stood on her pedals to get a better view and pulled her bike to a stop. A second later, she heard the brakes on Madison’s bike screech behind her.

  “Whoa,” Madison declared as she took the scene in. “That’s freaking scary.”

  “Look at all those people,” said Lauren, a glint of worry in her voice. “They’re everywhere.”

  Lauren began to assess her surroundings—paying special attention to what was in proximity to her and her friend. A large group of men stood just on the other side of a hefty diesel pickup truck. Their conversation was getting louder by the second, but she couldn’t make out if they were complaining, arguing, or fighting. Being this close to large groups of people used to make Lauren very nervous. Her dad had always stressed the importance of situational awareness to her and she was beginning to realize just how significant it was in her current situation.

  “We need to get off this sidewalk, Maddie,” Lauren said. “I think we should find another route—somewhere away from all these people.”