Dark Days | Book 2 | Retribution

by Davis, James

  "We’re going to kill every last one of those sons-a-bitches!”

  Clay leaned over and kissed his beloved wife’s forehead one last time as his mind began to snap. A murderous rage was building inside of Clay just like a hurricane about to make landfall, as he thought about his hands wrapped around Sharp’s throat until the light left his eyes. A thundering voice jerked him from his dark thoughts causing his head to snap to the left.

  “I told you, you would regret that didn’t I, boy?” Sharp said with a chuckle before stepping back out of the way of his men. Clay and Hank rolled to either side of the room just as a barrage of bullets stitched over the floor and across Ashley’s lifeless corpse. Clay saw this and lost it. He stood up, already holding his rifle and firing on full auto. Bullets whizzed past him as he watched his own lead tear through the wall and the men in the doorway. Screams of pain sounded in the hall as Clay’s bolt locked back. He dropped back down behind the bed and yanked the spent mag out of the rifle before sliding in a fresh one and letting the bolt slam home. He watched as Hank took calm measured shots each time another guard tried to dart into the room. Several bodies lay motionless on the floor in the doorway making it impossible for them to get out of the room.

  “Mitchell, you two aren’t getting out of here alive so you might as well just stop this nonsense and save us all some time, and pain in your case.” Sharp yelled from out in the hall. Clay and Hank replied with a barrage of gunfire, taking out one more of Sharp’s guards.

  “How many guards is that? Five maybe six? Go ahead and keep sending them in here. We’ll keep picking them off like flies,” Hank shouted back. Sharp didn’t respond. Clay and Hank looked at one another and then back toward the door just as a small round object sailed over the bed and hit the wall before rolling to a stop next to Clay. Hank’s eyes grew wide as he watched Clay quickly snatch the grenade and toss it back out of the room. Panicked screams sounded in the hall as the guards scrambled away from the door but it was too late. The explosion was devastating. Collapsed walls and shredded bodies covered the floor in front of the four-post bed. A cool breeze rushed in across Clay and Hank’s faces, stirring up dirt and debris as they slowly got their feet. Their ringing ears made it hard to hear the cries of pain around them as they stumbled toward what used to be a doorway. Clay stopped and began tossing chunks of wall and body parts from a small pile in front of the bed until he got to his wife’s body. He picked her up and followed Hank out into the destroyed hall. Spotting the door for the stairs hanging by a single hinge they both moved toward it intent on getting out of there before Sharp sent more guards to their location. Clay struggled with Ashley’s body as he all but ran down the staircase to the ground floor. He set her body down at the bottom of the stairs and joined Hank at the doorway. They had to clear a path to the exit before Clay could get Ashley out with them. They moved down the hall clearing each room until they were standing in front of the door to the visitors’ foyer.

  “Go get her. I’ll stay here and make sure you’re still clear when you come back down the hall.” Hank said as he stuck a full mag in his rifle. Clay didn’t bother to reply, he just darted back down the hall to the stairs and grabbed Ashley’s body. Before he stepped back out into the hall gunfire erupted from Hank’s direction.

  “Damn!” Clay barked, as he checked the hall and then darted back to Hank who was busy trading fire with someone outside. He set Ashley down again and took up a position across from Hank at the doorway and started firing. Together, they managed to take out several more of Sharp’s guards, but not before Hank took a round in the bicep.

  “Here, tie it off with this!” Clay shouted as he tore the cord off of a lamp and tossed it to Hank. He caught the wire and quickly wrapped it above the wound and tied it as tight as he could stand it. Satisfied that the blood flow was minimal now, he got back into the fight immediately taking out two more of the guards as they jumped out of a black Escalade. He watched several rounds ricochet off of the truck before turning back to look at Clay.

  “Think you can get her to that truck if I lay down some cover fire? It’s bulletproof!” Hank shouted over the barrage of gunfire. Bullets tore through the walls and doors above their heads as Hank waited for a response. Finally, Clay glanced over at Hank and nodded before getting up and backstepping toward Ashley’s body.

  “I’ll do a three count then you run like your ass is on fire!” Hank said as he shoved in another fresh mag.

  Clay hoisted Ashley onto his shoulder and said, “Alright count it off.”

  Hank took aim. “3,2,1!” He shouted but Clay was already moving on two. “Damn you Clay! Do you have a death wish or what?” Hank shouted as he quickly got to work laying down cover fire for his brother.

  Clay ran for all he was worth as enemy rounds hit the ground only inches behind him. Seconds later, he slammed into the side of the truck and flung open the back-driver’s side door and laid his wife’s body down gently in the seat and climbed in over her. He got into the driver's seat and found the truck was still running. Clay slammed the truck into gear and smashed down the gas pedal as he spun the wheel toward Hank. Bullets pinged off the windshield and doors as he drove straight over in front of the door Hank was at, blocking him from being hit.

  “Go, go, go!” Hank shouted as he dove inside the passenger seat. He landed hard with his rifle under him and he let out a pained groan as he grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Clay spun the tires and shot out across the White House lawn toward Pennsylvania Avenue. The truck smashed through the black wrought iron fence and slid sideways onto the street as more bullets peppered the side of the truck while Clay raced down Pennsylvania Avenue. Hank snatched a map that was sticking out of the visor above his head and opened it up to study the streets.

  “Take a right up here on 14th.” he said as he rotated the map and followed 14th with his finger. Clay barely slowed down to take the turn causing the truck to fish tail around the corner and clip a parked car. Buildings and parked cars whipped past as Clay raced down the road.

  “This should turn into Highway 1 and merge with 395 over the river into Virginia. From there we just keep heading south until Highway 1 splits off toward Alexandria.” Hank explained.

  “Where are we going?” Clay asked as the buildings blurred past the window.

  “I don’t know yet. Anywhere but D.C.” Hank replied as he searched for a map of Virginia in the glovebox. Neither man spoke for the next three hours as Clay kept the gas pedal glued to the floor, only slowing down to maneuver around abandoned cars.

  A long ding broke the silence, accompanied by the gas light, lighting up on the dash.

  "Better take this exit." Hank instructed, pointing a finger to the exit ramp. Clay began to slow the truck down as he veered over to get off of the highway. Seconds later they were standing outside of the truck in front of an old gas station. Clay looked around and then brought up his rifle as he headed for the front door of the station.

  “Where you going?” Hank asked. Clay didn’t respond, he just kept walking toward the store. The front door looked to be in pretty good shape as Clay tried to peer through the filthy glass. Seeing nothing but dirt he grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. He slowly stepped inside and aimed his rifle around the store. Seeing that the place was empty, Clay stepped over to the counter and grabbed a pack of Camel’s from the rack and tore them open. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack, lit up and took a deep lungful of the smoke before letting it all come back out of his nose. He let out a satisfied sigh as he finished his cigarette and began shoving packs and cartons inside of a plastic bag. Hank stepped through the door, his rifle at a low ready.

  “I can’t believe no one has hit this place yet.” Hank said as he gazed around the room at all of the different snacks and drinks.

  “Get your damn hands up!” A deep gravelly voice shouted from the back of the store, startling both Clay and Hank. They both dropped whatever they had in their hands and slowly raised them high above their heads
.

  “That’s good, now interlock your fingers behind your head and drop down to your knees. I’ll have my friend here secure your wrists until we can figure this thing out.” The man said.

  Clay and Hank did as they were told and less than thirty seconds later, they were both handcuffed and lying face down on the floor.

  “Alright get them up.” The man said as he stepped out of the shadows of the store for the first time, allowing Clay and Hank to get a good look at him. The man was tall, probably six feet or better, with a thick head of long, jet-black hair, dark brown eyes, high cheekbones and a slightly rounded jaw.

  “What are your names?” The man asked, looking from Clay then to Hank. Clay was just staring at the floor, ignoring the man when Hank finally spoke.

  “I’m Hank, this is my brother Clay. Who are you?” The man stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a silver flask.

  “My friends call me Bear, but you can call me sir.” The man said as he twisted off the lid to his flask and took a large gulp. He let out a gasp.

  “Whoo, that’s some mighty fine shine right there! Ol’ Charlie boy has gotten that recipe down to an art!” he said, slipping the flask back into his pocket and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “So, tell me, Clay and Hank, what are you doing here?”

  “We’re just trying to get home to our family in Tennessee.” Hank replied. Bear seemed to consider this for a moment.

  “So, how’d you get all the way out here in Virginia?” Bear asked. Hank chuckled wryly, shaking his head.

  “Man, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.” Bear said. Hank shrugged and glanced over at Clay who was still just staring blankly at the floor.

  “Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Hank said and then laid out the entire story from fighting off the FEMA soldiers to getting kidnapped by the President. Bear watched his face the entire time, searching for any sign of a falsehood but found none. Satisfied that these guys were on the up and up, he got up and uncuffed them both. They followed Bear and his partner, a short, blonde-haired woman, to the back of the store and out the door to a jet black 1969 Camaro. Hank stopped in his tracks.

  “Whoa! That is beautiful!” Bear chuckled.

  “Yeah, she's a beaut, my dad and I built her when I was a kid.” Hank walked around the car admiring the smooth contours and shiny paint job.

  “Man, I had a cherry red 1970 GTX in mint condition when this whole apocalypse started, but some jackass smashed it with a monster truck in Huntsville. I worked day and night on that thing, it was a work of art.” Hank said, shaking his head in disgust. Bear cringed at the thought of the same thing happening to his car and said.

  “Did you at least kill that sumbitch?” Hank nodded emphatically.

  “Yeah, you bet your ass we did, and then we took his monster trucks.” Hank said pointing to himself and then to Clay.

  “Think you two can stop jerking each other off long enough for me to bury my goddamn wife!” Clay shouted, done with the whole buddy-buddy routine. Bear’s face twisted into rage and then understanding dawned as Clay’s words penetrated his brain.

  “I’m sorry Clay, I got caught up in the conversation.” Hank said trying to ease the tension. Clay brushed him off and stomped off back to the front of the store where the truck was parked.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I know a nice spot not too far from here, overlooking the river.” Bear said quietly. Hank nodded as both men turned to follow Clay. Hank jogged to catch up with his brother and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

  “Look man I really am sorry for the way I acted back there. Bear said he knows of a perfect spot overlooking the river that we can bury her at. He said it’s really beautiful. I think she would like it.” Hank said as he watched Clay’s face turn into a twisted mass of emotion. Clay buried his face into Hank’s shoulder and began to weep.

  “I miss her so damn much Hank!” Clay’s muffled voice said through heaving sobs. Hank squeezed his brother tight, looking up at the sky in an attempt to staunch his own tears. He couldn’t think about the loss now, he’d have time for that later once they got home safe.

  “I know. I miss her too, but you can’t keep torturing yourself like this.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do then, Hank? Huh? Just sit back and act like my wife didn’t just get murdered because of my careless actions?” Clay barked, pushing away from Hank’s embrace. Hank shook his head and stared at Clay for a long second before speaking again.

  “No, Clay, you shouldn’t act like that but you have to think about Emma now, and what’s best for her. She is going to need her daddy more than ever once we get back to the farm. You have to pull it together for her sake.” Hank shot back, getting annoyed with Clay’s selfishness. Hank’s words smashed into Clay’s thoughts like a ton of bricks as he suddenly realized that Hank was right. Emma was going to be devastated when he told her that her mommy wasn’t coming home. Clay hardened his heart and looked over at Hank, nodding his head.

  “You’re right. I have to get back home to Emma as soon as possible. We need to leave as soon as we are done burying Ash.” Clay said through gritted teeth as he tried to push the pain down deep inside his gut. Hank shook his head, as he mentally reviewed their options.

  “No, we need to lay low here for a couple of days to give Sharp and his goon squad enough time to settle down. The last thing we need is to get caught by them again.” Clay didn’t respond.

  The men approached the top of a small hill overlooking the river. Two mounds sat atop the hill, one looking a lot fresher than the other. Large rocks sat at the top of what seemed to be graves. He didn't ask and Bear didn't seem interested in offering an explanation.

  Clay gently propped Ashley's body against a small tree and grabbed a shovel from Bear's hand. Bear offered the second shovel to Hank who accepted it and joined Clay who was already four scoops into his wife's grave.

  Several hours later Hank watched as Clay put the last bit of dirt onto the grave. He stepped back and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he gazed out over the river to the setting sun. Beams of golden sunlight cast shadows on the grave which seemed to dance across the ground as the sun sank lower in the horizon.

  Bear walked up behind Clay and patted him on the shoulder. He turned around and saw that Bear was holding a wooden cross with Ashley’s name carved into it. Clay studied the cross intently and then looked up at Bear with a look of gratitude on his face. Bear grabbed Clay’s hand and gave it a single shake.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, brother.” he said with a nod and then turned to walk back toward the store. Hank stepped over and gave his brother a long hug and said.

  “I’ll give you some time alone to say goodbye.” Clay’s eyes began to well up again at the thought of saying goodbye to the love of his life as he watched his brother follow Bear back down the hill.

  He turned back to the grave and shoved the cross deep into the loose dirt before sitting down next to it and saying a quick prayer as he wiped away the tears. He watched the sun sink below the horizon and told his wife goodbye for the last time.

  Chapter Three

  President Sharp pulled the top off of a crystal decanter and poured the amber liquid into a small glass tumbler before replacing the cap and returning it to a small wooden table.

  He turned around, looking over the empty room and took a long deep sip. The door swung open, pulling him from his thoughts as a tall dark-haired man hurried in and stood silently in front of him.

  "You better have some good fucking news for me, Diaz." Sharp demanded.

  "Our men lost them, sir." Diaz replied, dropping his gaze to the floor.

  Sharp's blood boiled as Diaz delivered the news.

  "You have any idea how two men go from being bound in chairs to blowing up half my goddamn house and disappearing to God knows where?"

  "No sir, but I will personally look into it."

  "Don
't look into it, Diaz, find them and bring them back." Sharp screamed.

  "Yes sir."

  "Alive, Diaz. Bring them back alive."

  "Yes sir."

  "Well go on. Get the hell out of here!" Sharp ordered.

  Diaz turned and hurried out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

  Sharp turned the glass up, gulping down the rest of his scotch. He turned the glass a few times in his hand before drawing back and launching it toward the door. The glass shattered, sending shards flying throughout the room.

  “Idiots!” he muttered, stepping over to the small table and pouring himself a new drink.

  Dub heard the sound of the fence rattling and stood up to stretch his back. He glanced over and spotted a now skinny and malnourished Sarge and Bella. He looked around to make sure none of the guards were watching and headed over to greet the two pups.

  “Hey guys, how y’all doin’ today? Lookin’ a little thin in the gut there.” Dub said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper towel with two big hunks of meat and two slices of bread wrapped inside. He stuck it through the fence and watched as the two dogs quickly wolfed the food down and gazed up at him expectantly.

  “I’m sorry guys, that's all I have for you right now. I’ll bring you more tonight. Just hang in there.” he said, sticking his hand through the fence and scratching the thin dogs behind the ears. Sarge and Bella had been gone when the U.N. soldiers showed up, and they kept coming back to the fence just about every day. The guards occasionally shot at them when they were drunk, but for the most part no one really bothered them. Dub wished he could just bring them inside with him but he knew that would never happen.