by A. American
I looked up at the old man. “Look here, kickstand, you start any shit and you’re going straight to the glue factory.” He just shrugged his shoulders and stood there.
Mark walked over, looking confused as hell. “What in the hell just happened?”
He stepped up and knelt beside Jeff and put his index and middle finger to his throat. Looking up, he said, “There’s still a pulse.” He stood up and straddled Jeff’s motionless body, raising his right foot. Mark stomped on his chest, planting his boot right on Jeff’s sternum. Jeff let out a coughing kind of sound, and that big pink wad shot straight up into the air. Reflexively, Howard stuck his hand out and the mass landed in his hand.
Jeff took in a deep breath and let out a long moan. “Oh, my fucking ribs,” he said as he wrapped his arms around his chest and rolled onto his side. “I think my ribs are broke,” he moaned.
Mark, Howard and I stood there looking down at him for a minute. Jeff looked up and asked who hit him. Howard pointed to Mark and replied, “He did, ’cept he put the boot leather to ya.”
Jeff rolled onto his back and looked up at Mark. “You a cop? That’s police brutality, man.”
Mark smiled. “You’re welcome.”
I reached down and pulled Jeff to his feet. He was still holding his ribs and leaning forward slightly. Howard held out the wad of gum. “Want this back?”
Jeff looked over, “Hell no, I don’t want that shit. My throat is killing me.”
Howard tossed the wad off into the palmettos at the side of the road.
“You gonna be all right?” I asked.
“I need a place to sit down for a while.”
I told him to come with me. He was worried about his bike, but I assured him it would be safe there. We had to push it behind the barricade before he would agree. I loaded Jeff and Howard up and headed for Howard’s house. I managed to get Howard delivered to his place, but helping him into the house was bit of a pain. He needed a ramp, and I added that to my mental list of things to do. I asked about their firewood situation and his wife said they were fine for now. I told them both if they needed anything to come and get me. They were both a little hardheaded, saying they didn’t need any help, and I said, “Well, if you do, you know where to find me.”
With Howard finally home, I took Jeff to my place. He wasn’t saying much, and I couldn’t blame him for it. At the house I took him in and deposited him on the sofa. He protested at first, not wanting to burden me, but I told him not to worry about it, to take it easy for little while and that he could stay the night and leave in the morning. I went to see Mel in the kitchen and told her about our guest. By the time I got back to the living room, Jeff was sound asleep. I left him there and went back to the kitchen.
“He’s asleep,” I said as I came in.
“Is he armed?”
“Uh, yeah, he has a pistol that I know of.”
“And you bring him here, with our girls?” she said, leaning against the island with her arms crossed.
“Well, yeah. I don’t think he is going to be a problem. He seems like a pretty good guy.” I told her what had happened and she said she wouldn’t be comfortable until I had Jeff’s pistol. I nudged him and when he didn’t wake, I slipped it out of the holster and showed it to Mel.
“Good, now I don’t feel like I’ll be killed in my sleep. Now that that’s settled, why in the hell did you take her with you today to load up a dead body?”
“She wanted to go. I told her what I was doing and she wanted to go. You think we can hide this sort of thing from them forever?”
“She’s seven; of course she wanted to go with you. The only dead people she has ever seen were on TV. She doesn’t understand it.”
“She has a better understanding of it now. Look, I knew she wasn’t ready for what she was going to see, but I would rather that first encounter be under a somewhat controlled situation than when we are running for our lives and she freezes when she sees a dead body. We’re all going to be seeing more of them.”
She stood there for a moment, looking right through me. “Why are you so damn morbid? Why do think we’re going to go all Mad Max?”
I was stunned. “Have you looked around? Do you have any idea what is going on, how bad things are?”
“The power’s out, so what? It’s like the hurricanes a couple of years ago. It’s not that big a deal.”
That made me pause. All this time I had been worried that Mark and other folks weren’t really getting it and it had never occurred to me Mel wasn’t either. I said, “It’s not that big a deal? Are you out of your damn mind? We’re doing better than most because of what we put away, but for most folks out there the shit has hit the fan in a big way, and let me clue you in to something, we’re going to be in the same boat as everyone else is soon enough. The food we have stored is going to run out, the fuel is going to run out, and we’ll be like everyone else: hungry and desperate.”
She said, “I don’t think it’s that bad. Is it?”
“After we buried Lance and his wife today, Mark went through their house. They had two—two—cans of food and a little flour, that was it. Everyone around here is probably in the same boat.”
Mel cocked her head. “Why did you have to bury his wife?”
“She wouldn’t come out. She called me a liar when I told her he was dead, so I left his body in the yard and went to get Mark. When we got back, we found her dead in the house. She shot herself.”
Mel stood there silent for a moment and then said, “Oh.”
Chapter 22
Thad loaded everything from the cache into the Scout. When he was done, he examined the rifle he had taken off the security man. It was an M4 with an ACOG optic sight and a light on the foregrip.
He had no experience with the weapon and started trying to figure out how it worked. He pressed the mag release, and the magazine fell out and landed on the ground. He turned the weapon over and looked at the mag well. He reinserted the mag and tapped the bottom, then shook the weapon to make sure it was in tight. He pressed the release again, this time with his hand under it, catching it. After setting the mag on the hood he grabbed the charging handle and pulled it to the rear and the chambered round ejected. Thad picked up the round and put it back in the magazine. Once he had it back in, he put the mag back into the weapon and pulled the charging handle back and let it go. It closed with a solid slap.
Thad put the rifle to his shoulder and looked through the sight. He aimed at a live oak about twenty yards from him and squeezed the trigger. It was stiff and wouldn’t move. Thad lowered the rifle and looked it over. Finding the safety, he flipped it up and once again put it against his shoulder. Pressing the switch for the light, he squeezed the trigger, and this time the weapon barked and kicked slightly against his shoulder. He settled the rifle and fired a couple more rounds at the tree. It didn’t look like he had hit it, but walking up he could see the small holes in the bark. Thad flipped the safety back to the safe position. Feeling a little more comfortable with the rifle, Thad put it back in the truck and climbed in.
Leaving the farm for the last time, he drove by the burning barn and headed toward his house. Thad pulled up in front of his house and sat there looking at it. After a moment, he got out of the truck, went to the back and took out a blue plastic jug. He let himself in and left the key in the lock.
He poured the kerosene out on the floor of his bedroom and lit it. He went to Tony’s room, where he did the same thing. He poured the rest of the kerosene on the sofa and lit it as well. With the flames building, he walked out on the front porch and stood there for a minute, stuffing his hands into the pockets on his coat. He rolled his shoulders against the chill in the air and took in the scene from his front porch for the last time. His hand found Little Tony’s toy in his coat pocket and he clutched it, thinking about the Transformers movie he had watched with Tony, the part where
the bad guys had burned the Transformer’s home world and the good guys had to go on the run.
Thad climbed back into the truck, started it and sat there for minute. He backed the truck out onto the road and paused again. After a moment he turned the truck north on Swift Mud Road and started to drive. As he drove, Thad thought about where he was going, where he could go. He knew Sarge had left his place. Then he had a thought and stopped the truck in the road. Reaching into the back seat, he pulled his pack to the front. He dug around in the pack and finally came out with a piece of paper. He sat there looking at it, rubbing it between his fingers. Finally he laid it on the seat beside him and took out his atlas, something he was thankful he had managed to salvage from the old truck.
Once he knew where he was going there was nothing left to do but get started. It was a long way and he was not looking forward to the drive, but he wanted to get away, and he never wanted to see Land O’ Lakes again. It was late and Thad didn’t expect to see anyone out, but he didn’t really care either way.
He made his way to I-75. He drove until he reached the exit for Lake Panasoffkee and got off. The exit ramp dead-ended into another road and Thad needed to take a right. As he approached the T in the road ahead of him, Thad saw a makeshift roadblock. The area around it was dark, and as the headlights swung around to light up the area, it appeared to be empty. Nonetheless, he reached over and picked up the old coach gun and laid it in his lap.
Thad went off the left side of the road and was passing the barricade when he saw the tent. As he looked at it, a head popped out of it. Much to his relief, the man didn’t come any farther.
After making his turn, he reached the intersection of CR 470. This road would take him through a couple of small towns. One large intersection up ahead was his only real concern; it crossed 301 and was the one place where he would certainly encounter people. Once past that, he would go through Yalaha then Howey-in-the-Hills. There he would turn onto 19 and face his next major obstacle: the bridge over Lake Harris. This one worried him the most, as any detour around it would add many miles to the trip through heavily populated areas.
Thad kept his eyes on the road, occasionally scanning the sides of the road for anything that looked out of place. He was at ease as he drove. The road he was on would end ahead and he would have to make a left to continue through Sumterville. Up ahead he could make out what could only be the overpass on the turnpike; this could be an issue, but he hoped not. Once again he laid the old shotgun in his lap and moved the Scout to the center of the road. There was no trouble, and when he reached Howey-in-the–Hills, he knew the bridge over Harris was coming up.
Just outside of the town proper he turned onto Highway 19. That side of the lake was mostly orange groves, the trees stripped of any leftover fruit. As he approached the bridge, Thad slowed the Scout to a stop and strained to look out across it. It was impossible to see across, but from his side everything looked peaceful enough. Putting the truck in gear, he started onto the bridge. He was going slowly as the thought of the Scout careening off the bridge into the alligator-infested lake below sent chills up his spine. As he drove, he looked out into the lake, and save the occasional reflection of the moon off the lake it looked like a bottomless abyss.
Halfway across the bridge he was looking out into the water when he was blinded by light. Snapping his head around, he saw two sets of lights high off the ground, each of them with four blindingly bright beams. Thad slammed on the brakes and put the Scout into reverse, and an amplified voice came at him from the opposite bank, but with the windows up he couldn’t make out what it said. Thad stretched his right arm out across the passenger seat and looked back to back off the bridge, but his heart sank when two sets of lights began to accelerate from the opposite end toward him. He stopped the truck and looked forward again. Silhouetted in the light coming from the other end, he could see men walking toward him, armed men. He looked in the rearview again and saw that men were climbing out of some sort of ATVs, and they too were armed.
Thad’s head dropped onto the steering wheel. He bounced it a couple of times, finally letting it rest on the wheel, and shook it from side to side.
• • •
Sarge made coffee and told the guys to get some rack time. The guys went about digging out their sleep gear. Since they probably weren’t going to be here long they took out only what they needed: sleeping bags and mats and some MREs for chow. They didn’t talk much. They were on the wrong end of the game now; they were in E&E mode and none of them liked it. Sarge went over to the radios and checked the settings on the green gear, the military crypto radios, then picked up his carbine with his free hand and took his coffee outside.
He went outside and flipped his NVGs down. He took a sip of his coffee and scanned the area around the little shack. He walked around the building, returning to the door and set his cup down beside it before walking off toward the nearby tree line. He made a circuit around the edge of the clearing and finally picked a spot off the southwest corner and sat down under a big live oak. If any trouble was coming, it would probably come from the west or the south, so it was a good spot to keep an eye out.
Inside, Mike unrolled his bag on his mat. He thought he heard something and stopped to listen. Hearing it again, he walked over to the tailgate of the truck where the radios were set up, picked up the headset and put the speaker to his ear. After a brief pause, the transmission crackled through: “Clementine to Swamp Rat.”
“Go for Swamp Rat,” Mike replied. Ted looked up and Mike gave him a nod with his chin.
“Swamp Rat, you need to rendezvous with Stump Knocker two-point-five clicks north of your current location at 0500, how copy?”
“Roger that, rendezvous with Stump Knocker at 0500 two-point-five clicks north of current, wilco.”
“Clementine out.”
Mike set the headset down and looked over at Ted. “Who’s Stump Knocker?” Ted asked.
“Don’t know. I’m gonna go get the old man.”
Mike slung his carbine, picked up his NVGs and turned them on and headed for the door. He put them on as he stepped through the door and dropped them down. He stood there for a moment as the green gloom began to form into a recognizable picture. Once they were warmed up, he walked out from the building looking for Sarge. He saw him when Sarge stood up, the motion caught Mike’s eye and started toward him. They met at the back of the building. “What’s up?” Sarge asked.
“Clementine called and wants us to meet up with an element called Stump Knocker at 0500 tomorrow.”
Sarge looked down at the ground, scuffing the brown grass with the toe of his boot. “What’cha think?”
“I think we need to be there early and see who comes a-callin’,” Mike replied as he rubbed his jaw.
Sarge looked at him for a minute. “How’s the head?”
“Still sore, but getting better.”
“All right, you wanna go? You up to it?”
“Yeah, I’m good. You going?” Mike asked.
“What the fuck do you think?”
Mike laughed softly. “When you wanna leave?”
Sarge looked at his watch. “It’s 2330 now; let’s pack our shit and head out now. We can catch a little sleep once we get there.”
The two of them headed back inside where Ted was sitting beside the radios on the tailgate. As they came in, he looked up and smiled. “What’s the plan?”
Sarge told him that he and Mike were going to head out now and be in position when Stump Knocker showed up. He wanted him and Doc to stay behind and keep an eye on things. They would take the Green Gear with them and the handheld radio. If they needed to, they could communicate over that. Ted nodded and Sarge and Mike went about getting their packs ready. With all the noise, Doc sat up and said, “What the fuck, man? I’m trying to sleep.”
“You’ll have plenty of time when you’re dead,” Sarge replied over his
shoulder as he dug around in the bed of the truck.
Sarge was on point. They moved slowly and deliberately, stopping often to look around and listen. They were in position a little before 0300 and found a spot between two big palm trees where Sarge set up the Minimi. Mike moved off about twenty yards to Sarge’s right behind the trunk of a huge sand pine. They could see each other from their positions and went over a few hand signals. Once in position, they each reapplied camo paint to their faces and added camo in the form of vegetation to their immediate fronts as well their sixes.
The two men tried to get comfortable and fought the urge to sleep. It was quiet and still in the predawn and all they could hear was the ringing in their ears. As the dawn came closer, Sarge stared out into the trees, not really focusing on anything in particular, just watching for movement. It didn’t take long for him to pick up what looked like three men moving through the trees across the small clearing. After a few more seconds of looking, he was sure he could see three, though there surely would be more.
Sarge looked at Mike and held up three fingers. Mike nodded and went back to scanning his section. As the three men approached the small clearing, they veered off to the north and kept walking, disappearing from view. After a couple minutes of their passing, two more men came into view; these would the rear security element. These two men moved through the little clearing extremely slowly. With them out in the open, Sarge was able to get a good look at them and their gear. These two were wearing the same multicam that they were. They were carrying M4s and wearing sidearms in drop-leg holsters.
They paused in the clearing and spoke in a very low whisper. After a brief pause they split up. One of them continued in the same direction the previous group had gone and the other continued out the other side of the clearing and disappeared into the darkness. Sarge checked his watch: 0434. It had to be them. He would stay in position for a while, then he would contact them on the radio. After the men moved through, the woods fell silent once again. The sky was changing colors, going from the deep black of night to the cobalt of early morning.