Dark Days | Book 2 | Retribution

by Davis, James

  He leaned the bike over on its kickstand and climbed off and listened to the sound of the morning birds singing as he looked around the area for any sign of trouble. It was a strange feeling not seeing a soul in the last four or so hours he had been riding but he was taking backroads so he supposed it wasn’t that strange after all.

  Clay rolled up the bay door and pushed the bike inside next to an old Chevy truck before taking off his helmet and hanging it on the handlebar. He moved back to the door and took one last glance around the immediate area before lowering the door back to the ground and sliding the lock in place. He made his way into the office section of the building and made sure those doors were also locked. After closing all of the window blinds and tossing a tarp over his bike he headed for the manager’s office and plopped down on a small couch in the corner. He removed an MRE from his pack and ate as he thought about the series of events that led him to the couch, he was on at that very moment.

  After finishing his meager meal, Clay pulled a blanket out of his pack and kicked off his boots to lay down. Sixty seconds later he was sound asleep.

  Clay woke up in a panicked daze some hours later. His sweat soaked shirt sent chills up his back as he sat up from the couch. Ashley had visited him in his dreams again. Her soft lips pressing against his in a passionate kiss and then her face morphing into a twisted mass of pain and bullet holes while her dead eyes gazed at him accusingly.

  “No, no, no baby, I’m sorry!” He muttered as tears streamed down his face once again. Clay slapped himself on the side of the head over and over, trying to get the twisted images to go away. It was like this every time he slept now and he feared he was starting to lose his mind. He sat back on the couch trying to recover from the horrible dream when his daughter Emma popped into his head. Her laughter and chubby little cheeks brought a weak smile to his lips.

  “I’m coming baby doll, Daddy’s coming home, I promise you that!” he said to himself as memories of her flooded his mind and pushed away all of the negative thoughts from his dream. Clay put on his boots and stood up to go use the bathroom and noticed the sun was still high in the sky.

  “Must be close to noon.” He said as he unzipped his pants and relieved himself into the bathroom sink. When he finished in the bathroom he returned to the couch, hoping to get a little more sleep without having any dreams. He lay back down and closed his eyes but after half an hour of twisting and turning trying to get comfortable he finally said screw it and slid his boots back on to start his day early.

  He grabbed a bottle of water from his bag and unscrewed the cap before taking a long drink. He twisted the lid back on, shoved the bottle back in his bag and threw it over his shoulder. Grabbing the tarp with one hand, he gave it a quick pull and let it fall to the ground before he walked over and grabbed the bay door with both hands and lifted hard. The metal door rumbled as it raised, stopping at the top with a loud bang.

  The bright sun rushed in and a cool breeze blew over him as he hopped on his bike and pressed the ignition. The engine rumbled to life and a few minutes later, Clay was flying down the road, headed toward home. He didn't know exactly where he was, but he was sure he had gotten fairly close to Tennessee the night before.

  A few hours later, the temperature had dropped, and the wind picked up as the sun sank in the western sky. Visions of Emma flickered in his mind as he cruised down the road at a steady pace. The thought of seeing her put a smile on his face as he rounded a long sweeping curve. His thoughts suddenly moved to his brother. He pondered if leaving Hank was the right decision until he remembered he just wanted to sit on his ass while their children were God knows where, or worse yet, dead. The dangerous thoughts crept up in his mind causing a bit of panic to set in. He twisted the throttle and rocketed down the highway taking the curves at a dangerous pace as the thoughts crept deeper into his mind and took root.

  The distinct sound of a chopper brought him out of his daze causing him to glance skyward to find the flying menace. After a few seconds of searching the sky he spotted it and immediately started looking for a place to hide himself and his bike. He spotted a large green tobacco barn about twenty-five yards off of the road and aimed the bike toward it. The barn was in a lone field surrounded by hills and trees on all sides except for the road side of the field. Clay slowed the bike to a crawl and drove it through a shallow ditch before twisting back on the throttle and burning through the gears like the Devil himself was chasing him.

  The bike began to rattle and the frame bounced as it sent a rooster tail of yellow grass and mud into the air behind him. Clay twisted the throttle back even further bringing the bike up to a teeth-jarring sixty miles per hour as he raced across the field to the partially open door of the barn.

  The chopper came into sight, quickly approaching as Clay slowed just enough to make it through the door without slamming into the wall. He stomped down on the rear brake and squeezed the hand brake putting the bike into a muddy slide until it finally came to a stop inches from the far wall of the barn. Clay released his death grip from the handlebars and twisted his head to see out of the open barn door. He watched as the rotor wash flattened the grass in the distance as it got closer and closer until finally it stopped and just hovered about twenty yards away from the barn. Clay jumped off the bike and took up a position inside one of the tobacco stalls as he waited to see sets of boots lower to the ground from the chopper. He began ripping AR mags from his vest and setting them up in front of him for easy access. He was preparing for a fight that he knew he would never win.

  Ashley, baby, I’ll see you soon my love. Emma don’t you ever forget that your daddy loves you! Clay thought before closing his eyes and saying a quick prayer for his family. When Clay Mitchell opened his eyes again, he was a man resigned to his fate with nothing else to lose. He was ready for what was sure to be a war. All of the sudden the wind and noise began to die down as the chopper banked right and flew off over the treetops.

  "What the hell?" he said to himself, confused as he ran to the door and craned his neck to see where the chopper had gone. Seeing that the sky was now empty Clay quickly bolted back to his mags and began shoving them back into his vest before throwing his leg over the Harley and hitting the ignition. The bike roared to life with a few twists of Clay’s left wrist. He twisted the throttle again and dumped the clutch causing the rear tire spin in place and sling mud all over the wall as he quickly walked the bike back around to face the open door. He shot out of the barn like a rocket, not even slowing down for the rough ride across the field. He didn’t slow at all until he was almost back to the road. Clay loosened his grip on the throttle long enough to make the turn back onto the road and then goosed it, bringing the bike up to 120 miles per hour as he raced down the long straight stretch of highway.

  His eyes went wide as the sight ahead of him came into focus. A few hundred yards ahead and fast approaching, two black SUV's sat blocking the road. Clay eased off of the throttle and gently applied pressure to the brake causing the bike’s speed to drop under triple digits.

  Several soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder with their rifles in the low-ready position. Once he was down to a manageable speed, he hit the rear brake and slid the bike to a stop like a 13-year-old boy trying to impress a girl on his bicycle. He hit the throttle a few times causing the loud roar of the bike to echo off the surrounding hillsides, before dropping it into gear and taking off back in the opposite direction.

  Shots rang out behind him and Clay ducked his head as chunks of pavement flew up all around the bike while he sped away.

  After a few miles and a month’s worth of panic, Clay started to slow down as he searched for a new place to hide. Spotting a small dirt road Clay leaned hard to the right to make the turn. He sped down the dusty road weaving in and out of curves until he spotted a small home through the trees. He rolled around another curve and spotted a large workshop to the right of the house and aimed the bike toward the large bay door. He pulled up next to the large door a
nd pushed it open while still on the bike. A few seconds later he was off the bike and closing the door. He grabbed his pack and rifle then darted over to the much smaller door. He leaned out of the door and craned his neck to look at the rapidly darkening sky. Seeing nothing he stepped out and closed the door before sprinting over to the house. If the SUV’s showed up they would see his tire tracks going to the shop in the dirt and go there first giving Clay a bit more of an edge to the upcoming fight. He hoped anyway.

  He climbed the back steps and stopped when he heard the whining engines of the SUV’s as they barreled down the curvy dirt road. A loud crashing sound came from the road and a smile crept onto Clay’s face.

  “One of those morons crashed!” Clay chuckled in a low tone before kneeling down to open his pack. He pulled out two extra spare mags and stuck them in his back pockets before zipping up the pack and leaving it just inside the back door. He had every bit of his ammo on him now and he would need all of it for what he was about to do.

  Clay took off at a dead sprint toward the edge of the forest and stopped after he had made it in deep enough so that he couldn't be seen easily from the road or driveway of the home. He took a knee and opened up a long pouch on his thigh to remove a suppressor for his AR. After twisting it on and making sure it was tight, he brought the rifle up to a low ready and started to make his way through the thick forest toward the wrecked SUV. He noticed that the forest was dead quiet as he moved. No birds chirping, no wind blowing the leaves, it was completely silent.

  “I found his bike!” A voice shouted from behind Clay at the home.

  “Shit!” Clay said in a whisper, berating himself for not hiding the bike better than he did. He brushed off the distraction and continued to move forward, intent on taking out as many of these bastards as he could before they could figure out that he was in the woods with them.

  Clay spotted the destroyed SUV and stopped to watch the area for any signs of life. After ten minutes Clay still hadn’t seen any movement, so he decided to move up closer. He moved with slow and deliberate steps, doing his best not to crunch any leaves or sticks as he moved. He was only feet away from the wrecked truck now and he could hear the labored breathing of someone inside.

  He knelt down and spotted a young man pinned to the driver’s seat. The truck’s engine sat awkwardly in the guy’s lap crushing his legs. A steady drip of blood fell forming a growing puddle. Clay knew right then and there that this young man was all but dead. He stared at the dying man for a long moment before raising his suppressed rifle and firing a single shot into the man’s head, putting him out of his misery.

  “Time to take out the rest of the trash.” Clay said as he moved back into the forest. He darted from tree to tree making his way back toward the home so he could take out the enemy soldiers while he still maintained the upper hand. Spotting the shop through the trees Clay dropped to a knee next to a large oak tree and brought up his rifle to peer through the scope. He watched as a team of soldiers stacked up outside of the home’s front door. The lead man kicked in the door and the rest of the team poured in through the doorway, clearing each room as they went. A few minutes later, Clay saw a large man step out onto the front porch and squeeze a radio mic on his shoulder.

  “All clear.” The man said in his thick Russian accent. Seconds later the man cocked his head to the right and put a finger to his ear and began to nod.

  “Copy that.” The man said before turning to walk back inside the house. After a few moments, Clay decided to move in a little closer to get a better look at their numbers. He stood up and eased forward to the next biggest tree and peered through the scope at the windows of the house.

  What in the hell are they doing in there? Clay thought, just before the tree bark above his head exploded, sending him diving to the ground.

  Chapter Eight

  Bear rolled out from under the trailer and brought his rifle up to cover Hank as he climbed out. They were both covered in a thick layer of mud and grime. Hank wiped a streak of the mud from his face and brought up his own rifle. They started to back away and move towards the edge of the forest, when Hank spotted a wide-eyed face pop up in the window.

  Bear must have spotted it as well because he immediately turned his aim to the window and fired a single shot. The rifle report thundered off of the trailer wall drowning out the shouts of the other enemy soldiers as they ran around the trailer to get to Bear and Hank. Hank took one last glance at the window to see if Bear hit his target and spotted small bits of hair and blood on what remained of the glass before they both turned and sprinted for the tree line.

  Shots rang out behind them and bullets peppered the tree trunks sending chunks of bark sailing through the air as they ran full force through the edge of the forest.

  “Well don’t just stand there, idiots! Go get them!” A heavily accented voice shouted from behind them as they sprinted away from the home. Hank and Bear ran until their lungs burned, stopping only when they couldn’t hear the soldiers following them anymore.

  “We have to keep going. There is no way they gave up that easily.” Hank said between gasping breaths. Bear looked at Hank with his mouth wide open as he gulped down breaths of air and nodded. Suddenly Bear and Hank stiffened as the worst possible sound they could have heard at that moment perked their ears. Barking dogs sounded in the distance behind them, causing them to forget all about being out of breath. The duo took off in a flash, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the dogs as they could manage.

  Gunfire sounded just ahead of them and they slowed to a jog as they tried to figure out where to go. The thought dawned on Hank as he searched the area for a place to hide.

  “I bet those wild dogs are attacking the soldiers back there. I didn’t see one dog back at the house.” Bear stated as he bent over and rested his hands on his knees. Hank mirrored Bear’s posture as they both sucked in deep lungfuls of air.

  “No way to know that for sure. We need to keep going just incase those dogs are after us.” Hank replied.

  “What about the shots we just heard up there?” Bear replied, pointing a finger ahead of them. Hank sucked in one last deep breath before standing up straight and placing his hands on his hips.

  “I don’t know. We’re just going to have to wing it I guess.” Hank said as he watched the forest behind them for the dogs. The distant sound of gunfire sounded behind them followed by a long-panicked scream that was cut off almost as soon as it started.

  “Did that answer your question?” Bear asked. Hank shrugged.

  “I guess it does. Let’s get moving.” Hank said as he moved into a slow jog toward the gunfire ahead of them. Ten minutes later, they had slowed to a crawl as the gunfire got louder and lasted longer. Bear spotted the blue helmets of the U.N. soldiers and held up a hand to stop Hank. They both dropped to a knee and watched as the soldiers fired without mercy at a target off to the right of their position. Return fire started when the soldiers would drop back to reload. The other shooter hit one of the soldiers directly in the side of his neck as he started to kneel down to reload.

  Arterial blood sprayed out of the massive neck wound soaking the surrounding soldiers. The blood covering their faces caused them to slightly panic when it would drip into their eyes. The other shooter must of saw this, because he immediately took advantage of the situation. He popped up and fired several times, taking out two more of the soldiers in the process.

  “Come on, let's help this guy out.” Hank said as he pressed checked his rifle. Bear followed suit and seconds later they joined the other shooter in the firefight. Together the three shooters were taking the soldiers down, one after the other. The entire scene looked like a war zone in a movie as the firefight advanced. The U.N. soldiers were darting behind different trees as they scanned the area to find the newcomers to the fight. Two shots slammed into the tree next to Bear’s head and caused him to duck and curse out loud.

  “Son of a bitch! They spotted us. We need to move now!” Be
ar shouted as he got closer to Hank, who was still popping out and firing at the few remaining enemy soldiers. Bear finally got his attention between shots and together they moved closer to the other shooter they had been helping. Hank spotted the sole of a boot sticking out behind a massive oak tree and stopped. He pointed a finger in the direction of the large tree.

  “You see that boot sole?” Hank asked in a low whisper. Bear gave a single nod in response as bullets tore through the forest. Hank mouthed the words wait here before getting down on his stomach to army crawl toward the man. Once he was close enough to the man, he let out a loud whistle that startled the man and made him jump. With all gunfire now ceased you could hear a pin drop in the quiet forest.

  “Hey buddy. Don’t shoot!” Hank said from behind his tree. Hank could hear the man shuffle around to poke his head out from behind his own tree.

  “Hank?” Clay said in a confused tone. Hank chuckled lowly.

  “Clay, is that you?” He said, leaning his head out to see the other man. Clay did the same and a second later the two brothers were staring at one another.

  “Clay, man why in the hell did you leave?” Hank said as he got up to go meet his brother. Bear grabbed Hank’s arm gesturing to the tree line.

  “Wait a minute, we still have a couple of those blue hats to deal with.” Hank looked back to Clay and held up a hand.

  “There’s still at least one of those assholes left. You go left and I’ll go right. We’ll flank the bastard and then you can explain to me why you took off like you did.” Clay rolled his eyes, not wanting to talk about it in the slightest, and then took off to the left in a squat run.

  “I’ll go up the middle and draw his fire while you and Clay flank him.” Bear said.