by Davis, James
“It didn’t hit your eyeball. Just your cheek and eyelid. Hold still while I pull those tiny shards out,” Hank said as he popped open the first aid kit and removed the plastic tweezers. He slowly removed each piece that was close to Bear’s eye and then got to his feet.
“I’ll be back. Need to make sure we don’t have any more visitors.” he said before making his way out into the living room. He eased over to the window and looked down to see the crowd of people standing around the front of the store using a gas can to fill glass bottles with gasoline. Hank took aim at the ground between the man holding the bottles’ feet and fired a single shot.
“Stop what you’re doing right now or I start shooting at every last one of you!” Hank shouted out of the window.
“Give us your food or we’re going to firebomb the place!” The man shouted back. Hank glared at him and slowly moved his aim to the man’s head.
“Put it down or you’re first to die!” Hank shouted back.
“No sir. I’m dead without that food anyway and so are my kids, so you go right ahead and shoot me. I promise you one thing though, if that rifle fires one more time at any of us you will be cooked alive in there.” The man replied defiantly. The crowd cheered at the man’s supposed bravery and shouted a series of damn straights and hell yeahs . Hank thought about what the man had said and was considering his options when he felt a large hand on his shoulder.
“I got this Hank, go watch the door.” Bear said before leaning over to pick up his own rifle. Hank glanced back at Bear and saw that he had cleaned his face up and bandaged it the best he could. Bear stepped back over to the window and glared down at the man.
“Which one of you threw those first two bricks?” Bear asked. Two men stepped forward holding up their hands.
“We did. So what?” The lead man said nonchalantly. Bear quickly raised the rifle and shot both men in the head and then raised his voice louder than Hank thought was possible.
“Those bricks killed my woman and nearly blinded me! Now unless any more of you want to die you need to take a few steps back!” The lead man had his bottle raised and ready to light the rag hanging out of it but stopped and looked over at the rest of his group. They all shrugged as if to say oh well, screw those two. More food for us.
“Good choice! Now give us twenty minutes to get our gear packed up. When we leave you can all kill yourselves over this shit for all I care.” Bear shouted and then turned away from the window before any of them could reply.
“Alright, just grab all the rice, noodles and dry beans you can carry. I’ll get the guns and ammo.” Bear said as he stepped over to a closet and pulled out a pile of empty duffle bags. He tossed one to Hank and quickly moved to his bedroom leaving Hank standing there confused with the drastic turn of events the morning had taken. Hank shook the fog from his mind and headed to the kitchen. He opened the pantry and started stacking the food inside the duffle neatly so as to fit as much as he could inside. He looked up to the pantry expecting it to be almost empty but saw that he could easily fill three to four more duffels with what was still there. He was struggling to zip the bag closed when Bear stepped into the kitchen behind him.
“Alright, let’s get out of here.” Bear said. Hank turned to see that Bear had filled every single one of the duffels with either guns or ammo. He glanced over at the bathroom where Wendy’s lifeless body sat and started to say something but Bear quickly cut him off.
“She’s gone Hank. There is nothing else I can do about it now besides mourn her once we get somewhere that’s safe.” Hank stared at him for a second and then said.
“Don’t you at least want to bury her before we go?” Bear was shaking his head before Hank finished.
“No, we don’t have time. Those people outside will be in here real soon and I don’t want to be around when that happens.” Bear replied as he started shouldering the duffle bags. Hank didn’t know what to say so he just stayed silent and followed Bear down the stairs. They each held a pistol at the ready as they made their way out of the front door.
“Have at it you fucking leeches!” Bear growled at the man as he side-stepped past him. Hank watched the crowd closely until they were past and seconds later the crowd rushed inside the store. Pained screams pierced the now silent air as people trampled over one another to get to the food inside.
“Just a bunch of damn animals!” Bear said with a shake of his head, doing his best to push the thought of losing his dear Wendy deep down into his soul. The thoughts would be brought back up to the forefront of his mind eventually, but for now he needed a clear head, especially if they were going to find Clay.
“So where exactly is this farm at?” Bear asked as Hank glanced over at him and then back to the ground.
“It’s between Nashville and the Kentucky state line. We have a pretty long trip ahead of us if we stay on foot the entire time.” Hank replied with a sigh. Bear grunted in response.
“I’m sure we can find some wheels pretty soon. I wish I would have kept at least a half tank of fuel in the Camaro for this exact reason, but you know what they say about hindsight and all of that.” Bear said, kicking at a rock. Hank watched the rock skitter across the road and then looked over at Bear.
“How’s your eye?” Bear shrugged.
“It’s not as bad as it looked or felt. It’ll be fine in a day or two. Worst case I’ll have some new scars.” He replied.
“Got any thoughts on which way Clay would have taken back to the farm?” Hank asked, looking around trying to get his bearings, Bear shook his head.
“Only a best guess really. If it was me and I was alone and on foot, I would stick to the forest as much as possible.”
“Yeah, me too.” Hank replied, nodding his head. The pair walked in silence over the next few hours until they came up on a small town in the distance.
“Follow me.” Bear said, and then darted off into the forest on the right side of the road. Hank followed close behind him as they made their way through the forest toward the town. When they were only a hundred yards away Bear stopped and dropped his bags. He grabbed a bottle of water and took a long drink before handing it to Hank. Hank drank deeply until he finished the last of the bottle and then twisted the cap back on and handed it back. Bear wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pointed toward the town.
“Come on. We need to go check this place out and try to find a car before it gets dark.” Hank watched the town for a long minute and then looked back to Bear.
“Alright. How do you want to do this?” Hank asked as he regarded the town once more.
“Nice and easy. Just follow my lead on this one.” Bear replied as he pulled the mag out of his rifle and checked it. Hank checked his own rifle and after a few minutes they were on their feet and moving.
Chapter Five
Clay’s eyes opened wide to the sound of dogs barking off in the distance. He quickly got his stuff and shoved everything into his bag as he reached for the door. Slowly he eased the door open and poked his head out to look around. The cool fall air nipped at his cheeks as he glanced across the field at the colorful fall trees. In the distance he saw a single person sprinting across the far side of the field with a pack of dogs right on his heels. The dogs were a mixed group of what used to be family pets: Pitbulls, German Shepherds, Boxers and an entire regiment of smaller dogs. The lead dog was a huge Doberman and it lunged toward the man’s leg and found purchase, sinking its teeth deep into the man’s calf muscle. The man let out a terrified scream as he slammed down to the ground. The screams continued as the dogs swarmed over the man, ripping and tearing at his arms and legs. Clay had never heard a man scream like that and it sent a chill running down his spine.
“Screw this! I’m getting the hell out of here while those damn dogs are distracted.” Clay said in a low voice to himself. The screaming finally stopped when one of the bigger dogs found the man’s throat and clamped down on it, crushing his windpipe.
“Poor bastard.” Clay mutter
ed quietly, as he glanced around the van making sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. Satisfied he had everything, he checked that the dogs were still occupied. Seeing that they were, he climbed into the driver's seat, opened the door and slid out. He eased the door closed and turned to head into the woods when a low growl stopped him in his tracks.
Oh God, please, not again! Clay thought as a phantom pain shot up the cheek of his ass. He slowly turned around to see a solid black pitbull standing only a few feet away.
“Easy boy.” Clay said as he slowly lowered his hand down to his sidearm. The dog lunged forward a few inches, causing Clay’s heart to skip a beat.
“Screw this!” Clay said as he jerked his pistol out and fired at the dog. The bullets struck the dog in the chest and stomach as it jumped through the air toward Clay’s throat. Its lifeless body slammed into Clay, knocking him back into the side of the van. The dog fell to the ground and Clay quickly placed his pistol back in its holster and climbed up on top of the van to get an eye on the rest of the pack.
The pack of wild dogs were running full force across the field toward him and he raised his rifle and started firing controlled bursts. The two lead dogs went down hard, flipping and rolling end over end until they finally skidded to a stop. The rest of the pack continued forward and Clay fired another round of bursts taking out three more of the dogs. The rest of the pack slowed to a trot and then stopped about ten yards away from the van.
Clay fired at the ground in front of the dogs, not wanting to hurt anymore of them if they were going to leave him alone. Dirt kicked up around their feet and together the pack bolted off into the forest. Clay let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding as he watched the last dog disappear through the trees.
I should have just killed all of them so they don’t decide to come after me. Clay said to himself as he jumped down to the ground. He pulled the mag out of his rifle and then opened his pack to grab some bullets to refill it. When he was finished reloading, he shouldered his pack and rifle and then headed toward the sinking sun.
Somewhere around three thirty in the morning, Clay made his way over a bridge that crossed a highway. The road below was littered with abandoned cars and corpses. The stench hit him about halfway across the expanse, causing him to gag. He took a step forward and the sound of metal skittering across pavement broke the silence of the night. He looked down to see that the bridge was covered in spent rifle casings. He glanced down at the highway below to the countless bodies that lay still between the cars. Putting two and two together, Clay quickly raised his rifle and made his way across the bridge as fast as he could while still keeping an eye on his surroundings. On the other side of the bridge he spotted a gas station on one side of the road and a Harley dealer on the other. He made a beeline for the Harley dealer and seconds later he was pushing his way past the front door. The building was just a large steel structure with metal siding and a metal roof.
“I bet these bikes still run.” Clay said in a whisper as he moved in to clear the building.
“You’re absolutely right, these bikes do run.” A voice sounded from behind the front counter, followed by the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked. Clay spun around to face the voice, his rifle already raised and ready to fire.
“Who’s there?” Clay said, as he moved left and then right looking for the owner of the voice. A cold round object touched the back of Clay’s head causing him to freeze. He let his rifle drop to his side as he raised his hands up.
“I don’t want any trouble, mister.” Clay said, cursing himself for not being more attentive to his surroundings when he came inside the store.
“You should have thought about that before you decided to rob my store. Now go over to that chair and sit down!” The man said as he pushed the back of Clay’s head with the barrel of his shotgun. The dark room made it hard for Clay to see the chair and the man nudged him again.
“Alright man, enough with the damn shoving! I can’t see shit in here.” Clay said, in a hard tone.
“Don’t you get lippy with me boy! I’ll blow your damn head clean off your shoulders! You understand me?” The man said with another shove of the barrel.
“Alright, alright! Take it easy, I’m doing what you said.” Clay replied, finally spotting the chair only a few feet ahead of him.
“Sit down! If you make even the slightest move for that rifle or sidearm, you’re dead! You got it?” The man said, nudging Clay’s head one final time.
“Yeah, I got it.” Clay replied as he slowly sat down in the chair. The man stepped around to the front of Clay and switched on a battery powered lantern. White light filled Clay’s vision causing him to lose what little natural night vision he had. When his eyes finally adjusted, Clay found himself staring at an older man wearing riding leathers. The man’s bright blue eyes bore into Clay for a long moment before he spoke.
“So, what’s your name, and why the hell are you in my store?” The man asked, still holding the shotgun aimed right at him. Clay cleared his throat.
“Name is Clay Mitchell and I was trying to find some transportation so I can get back home to my daughter. I wouldn’t have come here if I had known you were here.” Clay quickly replied. The man seemed to consider this as he pulled his own chair over in front of Clay. He sat the shotgun across his lap but the barrel never left Clay’s chest.
“So, you need a ride home to your daughter. What about your wife?” The man asked. The question slammed into Clay’s gut like a punch and his voice shuttered when he tried to answer. The man saw Clay’s reaction to his question and raised a hand.
“Nevermind. I’m sorry for asking. I lost my wife to this shit too!” he said as he motioned his hand around the room. “Tell me son, how far do you have to go before you get home to your little girl?” Clay seemed to wrestle his emotions under control as he spoke.
“I’m not real sure. What city is this?” “You’re in eastern West Virginia, just over the state line.” The man said. Clay thought about it for a second before he finally spoke again.
“I’m still a long way from home. I have to get over by Nashville.”
“Yeah, that’s a hell of a walk. Course, I could probably ease that burden a bit, for a small fee.” The man said, catching Clay off guard. He thought for sure he was dead and now this guy was trying to make a deal with him.
“How small is a small fee?” Clay asked. The man smacked his thigh and stood up with his hand stuck out toward Clay.
“I don’t do business with strangers. Name’s Dan. Nice to meet you Clay.” He said shoving his hand into Clay’s and shaking it vigorously. Clay decided to match Dan’s enthusiasm and stood up and shook his hand with the same energy.
“Good to meet you as well, Dan. Now let’s talk some business.” Dan nodded once and turned to walk back toward the front counter.
“Lay everything out that you’re willing to part with and I’ll tell you if you got anything I want.” Dan said motioning his hand to the counter. Clay considered this, and then stopped to look around the room to see if Dan had anyone waiting to sneak up on him.
“Don’t worry, I’m the only one here and frankly I am a straight shooter.” Dan said when he saw Clay looking around.
“So, you’re not the one that left all of those spent shells out there on the bridge?” Clay asked, watching Dan with a close eye. Dan shook his head.
“Nope I was hiding out in here when that happened. A convoy of those damn U.N. troops came through here the other day and shot up all of those poor people on the highway. There wasn’t a thing I could have done.” Dan said with a shameful shake of his head.
“I heard about those U.N. guys, but I didn’t believe it.” Clay said.
“Well I saw it with my own two eyes, so you better believe it’s true and keep your eyes peeled for those bastards, lest you end up like those poor people on the highway.” Dan replied. Clay just shook his head at the thought of Sharp really bringing in foreign troops.
“We
ll, Dan let’s get down to business. I got some food, ammo, water and a few extra pistols I’d be willing to part with for one of those Dynas over there.” Clay said pointing toward the showroom floor.
Clay reached into his bag and pulled out three pistols, laying them side by side on the counter. He placed two boxes of ammo next to them. Dan watched as he went into his pack again, retrieving a plastic bottle of water and something wrapped in a paper towel.
Clay unfolded the paper towel, revealing a deer steak he had wrapped up at Bear's the previous night. He placed it on the counter beside the bottle of water and stood back, tossing his bag back over his shoulder.
Dan looked over the items on the counter a moment as if pondering the trade. He reached down picking up a Glock 45, looking it over.
"Only need one of these, I suppose." he said, stuffing the pistol into his waistband, "Gonna need some ammo though." He added grabbing a box.
He looked down inspecting the steak "Ain't had a good hunk of venison in a looong time." he said, licking his lips, "and something to wash it down, of course."
"Of course." Clay repeated.
Dan looked up at Clay, staring into his eyes for a moment before nodding his head.
"This'll do. Take your pick, they aren't exactly flying off the shelves anyway."
"Thanks Dan." Clay nodded, extending his hand. Dan grabbed the hand and gave it a firm shake.
"These bikes sure don't go for what they used to." he chuckled, glancing at his newly acquired items.
"You're welcome to get a little rest in the back before you take off."
"Thanks Dan, I appreciate what you've done for me and my baby girl." Clay replied "but, I would like to get on the road sooner rather than later."