Evergreen (Book 4): Nuclear Summer

by Cox, Matthew S.

  Screaming in rage, the other eight people charged at them.

  “Shit!” shouted Mason. He ran forward and kicked the grenade back toward the lunatics—but it exploded a half second after his foot touched it.

  Shrieks of pain came from everywhere. Mason bore the brunt of the blast, both of his legs shredded below the thighs. He hit the ground, riddled with shrapnel, dead in an instant. Everyone carrying a gun opened fire on the charging nut-jobs. Harper pivoted toward a woman rushing her, leaning out of the way of a giant Rambo knife while shooting the crazy bitch point-blank in the chest. The woman crumpled to the street, the momentum of her run causing her to tumble past Harper, who pivoted left looking for another target. Deacon had already killed the leftmost man, who’d gone after him wielding a huge kitchen knife.

  She spun the other way.

  Three attackers lay dead on the road, having been mowed down before they got close enough to attack anyone. The other woman among the crazies somehow made it past the firing line into the group of survivors. She’d pounced on Jen Oliver, the two women grappling for control of a knife that came perilously close to Jen’s throat. Daxton hung from the insane woman’s back, trying to drag her away from his mother.

  Harper aimed, but couldn’t get a clear shot at the woman, so she rushed toward them.

  Miguel and Natalia Cortez lay on the road, bleeding from all over. Alma sat on the pavement closer to James Wong, who rolled side to side clutching his left leg and howling in pain. The little girl stared into space like she had no idea where she was.

  Luke yowled in agony.

  “Gah!” Harper spun to aim in that direction.

  The loon who stabbed Luke already paid for it by taking a ninja sword across the throat. Despite a knife sticking out of his left shoulder, Luke lunged again and rammed the straight sword into the man’s chest.

  Alma screamed, “No!”

  Harper whirled back the other way.

  A machete-wielding crazy man stood over the little girl. He seemed torn between ‘following God’s command’ to kill all human life and feeling sorry for a child. Before he made up his mind, Harper—as well as Lennie, Deacon, Logan, and Ms. Tiller—all shot him.

  “Get your tits out of my face!” shouted Jen.

  Harper swiveled to aim in that direction. The bare-chested crazy woman staggered backward, reeling from a hard right hook to the nose, Daxton still hanging on her like a human cape. She grabbed the boy’s arms and swung him around in front of her, raising a huge knife. Before the woman could stab him, Jen hammered a hatchet into the side of the nut-job’s head.

  The zealot collapsed limp in an instant, falling to the road and convulsing. Jen grabbed Daxton and dragged him back, turning him so he couldn’t see the twitching body. Carl, lying on the road not far from there, finished the convulsing woman off with a shot from a handgun.

  Silence fell over the group except for the moans of the injured.

  “Lennie!” yelled Harper. “Still got that first aid kit?”

  “I have one too,” said Jen. “Used to be an RN.”

  “Used to be?” asked Logan.

  Jen laughed. “Yeah. Patient stuck his hand in my pants, so I broke his nose with a bedpan.”

  “You lost your license for that?” asked Deacon.

  “Bedpan was full at the time,” muttered Jen.

  Harper cringed.

  “Didn’t lose my license. Just got fired.” Jen opened her satchel and pulled out a white box. “Unfortunately, some idiot decided to hit the button before I could find another job.”

  “Mom really beat the shit out of that guy,” said Daxton.

  “Technically, I beat him with crap. And watch your mouth.” Jen rushed over to Mrs. Cortez.

  The boy gave her a stare that said ‘we just killed people and you’re worried about bad words?’

  Harper stood guard, all she could really do, while Lennie and Jen went around dealing with the injured. Alma’s parents had both been hit by shrapnel from the grenade. Mr. Cortez hadn’t been hurt as badly as his wife. The woman had evidently jumped on top of Alma, who she’d been carrying at the time, to shield her. James Wong took a fragment to the shin. Mason, unfortunately, died instantly, having been like two feet away from the grenade when it detonated. However, he absorbed most of the shrapnel, stopping it from spreading over more people.

  Luke suffered the only wound not caused by the grenade, as only two of the crazies made it close enough to attack anyone using their small weapons. Apparently, that guy tried going for Margaret and Clive, but Luke intercepted him.

  “Gotta work on defense,” said Lennie while removing the knife and doing a bad Kung Fu movie accent.

  “Gah.” Luke winced as Lennie tended to the wound in his shoulder. “I have no idea what I’m doing. Just found this sword. Looked cool, so I kept it.”

  “Mommy!” shouted Alma, running over to her mother, who lay on the road.

  “I’m here,” said Natalia in a weary voice.

  Harper approached, watching Jen apply bandages. “How bad is she hurt?”

  “It doesn’t look like she got hit in any vital areas, but she has a lot of holes. Biggest danger is blood loss—and possible infection. You guys have any antibiotics in Evergreen?” Jen finished one bandage and moved on to extracting a piece of shrapnel from the next hole.

  “I think so, yeah.” Harper cringed at the dead bodies. “What the heck was wrong with those idiots?”

  “No idea. You’ll drive yourself nuts trying to understand what makes some people do the things they do.”

  Abe Cohen and Leo Ruiz had a few minor hits from shrapnel as well, though nothing bad enough to require gauze. A rock tossed by the grenade blast nailed Carl, ripping a tear in his forehead and knocking him somewhat senseless and off balance. Fortunately, his skull hadn’t cracked.

  Crazy people. Harper sighed. Wonder if these are the ‘raiders’ who have been attacking them? Who else would want to just kill people without stealing their stuff? She decided not to suggest that out loud in case Carl tried to use it as a reason on top of people being hurt to claim Kriley Pond would be totally safe now. Even if no one attacked them, they would still most likely starve.

  She stared at the clear blue sky overhead. I’d kill for a car right about now.

  31

  A New Freckle

  Eventually, their ‘medics’ got all the leaks patched enough that the journey could resume.

  They left the people who attacked them where they fell. Mason, they dragged off the road and had a cursory funeral for. Margaret seemed the most upset at his death, remarking that she’d miss him teasing her about being the ‘mean old woman’ of their group. Natalia could barely walk. Miguel tried to pick her up, but his injuries made him too weak to lift her. Deacon ended up carrying her.

  Conversation among the residents of Kriley Pond confirmed Harper’s suspicion that those had been the ‘raiders’ who’d been harassing them. However, they hadn’t seen the trenchcoat guy with the giant beard before, only the nuts with bed sheets for pants and war paint. Since none of this group had a firearm, Harper guessed they’d run out of ammunition at some point.

  “Bet that guy didn’t believe he deserved to die,” said Deacon. “Dudes like that love the control, makin’ other people kill and die.”

  “I dunno.” Harper sighed at the Mossberg. “Unless he was blind, he had to see all of us pointing guns at them. Did he really think he’d chuck a freakin’ grenade at us and not end up dead? Like, we’d just kill off his minions and let him walk away?”

  “Final showdown,” said Carl.

  Everyone fell quiet.

  “They’ve been after us for weeks. Must have had a scout that saw us leave, and he figured this would be his only chance to wipe us out.” Carl pressed a hand to his head bandage. “Probably wasn’t expecting us to have you folks escorting us. Guess he really was as crazy as he sounded if he still attacked us after he saw your weapons.”

  “Yeah, sick bastar
d.” Lennie spat to the side.

  Harper’s mind roamed through the subsequent silence, wondering who those people had been prior to the war. How could someone have gone from a delivery truck driver, office worker, professional, or whatever they’d been to a knife-wielding savage so out of their mind they’d charge at people holding rifles while they only had knives and hammers? Even the two women among them had appeared consumed by bloodlust. The only possible explanation she could come up with was that they’d all been broken mentally. Maybe the Lawless got a hold of them and abused them into insanity. Or the sheer mental shock of civilization being gone proved more than they could handle. Likely, they’d watched people they cared about die.

  Guess that’s the final stage of ‘oh, F-it all.’

  The grim thought that if Madison hadn’t survived their attempt to get to Evergreen, on top of the deaths of their parents, Harper might have been the same… not caring if she lived or died. She couldn’t picture herself ever gleefully murdering someone purely for the hell of it, but she also never imagined she’d be capable of killing anyone at all, even in self-defense. She’d clung to her sense of self, her sanity, because of her need to protect Madison. And now, she had a whole family to survive for—not to mention Logan.

  A wry smile curled her lip. They say love kills. One swimmer sneaks in and I could end up dead. She squirmed, trying not to think about how much natural childbirth could hurt. Getting shot doesn’t sound like a bad alternative.

  To distract herself from the somber thoughts of what could have driven those people to madness, she wondered how she’d react if Logan got her pregnant. Hopefully, spending nine months petrified of dying in childbirth wouldn’t hurt a developing infant. No one made formula anymore, so she’d pretty much have to breastfeed. Taking care of an infant would be a full time job. Did that mean they’d boot her off the militia and take the Mossberg? Or would they let her be like a ‘reservist’ until the baby grew old enough to stay with a sitter during her duty times?

  Best I avoid getting knocked up. I’m looking after enough children already.

  At a small line of post mailboxes beside a narrow dirt road, she headed to the right, not remembering the name of the road. It didn’t even have paving, being dirt. However, they’d come in that way. It connected to 119 in about five miles, a bit over an hour of walking… perhaps longer since a bunch of people with grenade shrapnel in their legs slowed them down.

  That road ran along the bottom of a narrow valley, the hills on both sides treacherously steep. More trees carpeted the left than the right for whatever reason. Every so often, a footpath made its way up the hill to who-knows-where. Little private cabins, hermit houses, or maybe secret government research stations.

  Ugh. I’m losing my grip. She chuckled at the idea of finding little grey aliens sneaking around out here.

  Following a mostly uninterrupted hour and a half (or so), Harper set foot on a tiny spur of paving at the end of the dirt road where it met State Route 119. A street sign called the path they’d been on Smith Hill Road, though she thought someone had a lot of nerve referring to a strip of dirt not wide enough for two cars to pass each other in opposite directions easily as a ‘road.’

  She veered left on 119, walking past a tall, rocky cliff on the left and lush pine-covered hills on the right. Colorado had nothing if not beautiful scenery. Even though she’d never been all that much of an outdoorsy type person, she felt happy the nukes hadn’t ruined it too much out here. Only the haze in the sky offered any clue that something drastic had happened to the planet.

  Another hour or so later along 119, they passed several buildings on the right that included a huge concrete pit crisscrossed by walkways and two round structures with silvery domed roofs that looked like someone buried grain silos so deep only one story stuck up above the ground. A nasty, outhouse-like smell saturated the area, causing most of the group to cough, clear their throats, or pull shirts up to cover their faces. Past two more large squarish buildings that resembled offices, she spotted a white sign by the entry road identifying it as the Black Hawk County city sanitation bureau wastewater treatment facility.

  Eww. Harper walked a little faster. That crap has been sitting for a long time. I don’t even want to know what kind of germs are breeding in there.

  Not far down the road from the plant, they passed a Shell station with a Z Stop convenience store. They’d bypassed it on the way up due to their haste of reaching Kriley Pond before nightfall. Given the remoteness of the area, she had some hope that there might be something useful in there.

  No sooner did she start into the gas station, than two men inside the convenience store pointed rifles at her out the smashed windows. Both wore mostly camo gear and hadn’t seen the business end of a razor or hair trimmer in over a year.

  “What’chu want?” yelled one.

  Harper stopped. “Umm… looking for supplies, but I didn’t realize anyone was here already. No trouble. We’ll just keep going.”

  “You do that,” shouted the other guy.

  “Calm down. We’re going.” Harper walked sideways back to the road, keeping her eye on the men.

  They lowered their rifles once she reached 119, continuing to watch them as they proceeded down the highway.

  “Geez. Touchy,” said Logan.

  “Defending what they got. They didn’t shoot us, so figure they ain’t too bad.” Deacon shrugged.

  Soon after they crossed the large three-way intersection where 119 met Route 6, a pack of wild dogs started tailing them, a group of several pet breeds left to run loose. Alma appeared happy to see the dogs, but Harper did not like the vibe the animals gave off. These didn’t exactly appear to be man’s best friend anymore. They looked… hungry. Though she loathed the thought of shooting dogs, better that than they hurt any people. Only the golden retriever had the slightest trace of friendliness about him. A chihuahua growled as if ready to kill them all by itself.

  Fortunately, the pack only tailed the group for about ten minutes before losing interest. Whether they decided against eating humans, sensed the threat of multiple firearms, or the goldie talked the others out of it, she couldn’t tell, nor did she care. Not having to kill dogs counted as a big win.

  They spent a few hours walking along Route 6, taking the occasional break to rest, drink water, and unload overfull bladders. Alma complained of a stomach ache, which Jen blamed on her eating the MRE. Her system wasn’t used to processing a normal quantity of food. She didn’t appear to be in too much pain, so they merely worked on distracting her from it.

  In the middle of the day, the successive tunnels along Route 6 offered a welcome reprieve from the heavy sun rather than worrisome murky darkness. The day turned out to be unusually warm for the elevation. So much so that they’d already gone through half the water jugs, but no one said anything about slowing down on the drinking. She told everyone that they’d be in Evergreen probably a little before dark. At a point where the road traversed a bridge above a creek, Daxton couldn’t resist the urge to spit off the side.

  Late in the afternoon while walking down Route 40, they neared the intersection to Route 65 where they’d run into the Lawless yesterday. Harper turned, walking backward while facing the group.

  “We had a little trouble up ahead here at the bridge. There’s gonna be some bodies on the ground by those campers. Anyone who doesn’t want to look at that, should not look over there.”

  “Don’t let Alma see,” said Natalia, still draped in Deacon’s arms.

  “I won’t look, Mama. Don’t wanna see dead guys.”

  Harper faced forward again, giving the campsite the evil eye—until she saw motion. She dropped into a ready stance, raising one hand in a signal for everyone behind her to stop, get down, and be quiet.

  Two men stood by the bodies that fell near the front end of the RV closest to Route 65, the easternmost ‘wall’ of the camp. Both had nearly shaved heads, plain white T-shirts, and jeans. They also had blue sashes around the
ir necks, one of which appeared to be a plastic shopping bag.

  She stopped short and faced the group, speaking low enough that the thugs hopefully wouldn’t hear her. “We have a problem. Two Lawless ahead.”

  Ms. Tiller crouched, pulling her Star Trek shirt up to cover most of her face like a bandit mask.

  “Easy enough to fix that.” Lennie sighted over his M4. “Simple shot from here.”

  “Wait,” rasped Harper. “Doesn’t feel right to just ambush them. We aren’t murderous savages.”

  “You know they’re going to attack us.” Deacon gingerly set Natalia down, supporting her weight until she sat on the road.

  Harper nodded. “Yeah. Probably. But that still makes the difference between defending myself and not being a murderer. Deac, Lennie, c’mon.”

  She approached the Lawless, Mossberg aimed. Logan went along despite not being asked to. Harper sighed in her mind, but didn’t say anything. Her desire for him to stay safe crashed into feeling so loved he refused to let her risk her life alone.

  The two thugs appeared so engrossed in the sight of the one guy’s brain splattered on the dirt that they didn’t notice Harper and the others approach. One had a camo-green AR-15 across his back, the other a pump shotgun. They also carried a handgun each in belt holsters as well as multiple knives.

  She stopped about fifteen feet behind them. “Drop your weapons.”

  Both Lawless turned to look at her—and chuckled.

  “What’s a little girl like you doing with a big toy like that?” asked the one on the left.

  “Protecting myself from creeps like you.”

  “Aww, don’t be like that, sweetie.” Staring at her chest, a ‘come to papa’ look in his eye, the man carrying the AR-15 took a step closer.

  Harper shot him in the face and shifted her aim to the second guy before he had his handgun all the way out of his holster. “Still think I don’t have it in me? I get a new freckle for every soul I take. Don’t have too many, since I’ve been shooting Lawless.”