by C. G. Cooper
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“They’re taking us apart,” one of the guards said.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Gregor yelled over the incoming fire. There still hadn’t been any significant movement, and without a force to counterattack, the best the camp commandant could do was hold tight and protect what was left of his recruits and guard force. There were some battle-hardened veterans within the camp’s ranks, but nowhere near the number of men Gregor required to defend themselves and the camp against the as yet unseen enemy threatening their complete destruction.
He’d been on HQ for months, requesting more men, more protection, or at least a better plan to reinforce the small outpost. HQ thought the training center was a poor target for the enemy, but Gregor knew better. Like Ryker had deducted, manpower was of utmost importance at this time. The Tennessee Zone’s recruitment efforts had quadrupled in the previous year; however, only a trickle of new bodies had joined the coalition.
It was the ultimate battle of attrition. Those Zones who could stay alive, and train their populace to fight would come out on top. Gregor had been to The California Zone, a tentative ally of The Tennessee Zone, if for no other reason than Tennessee owned the main corridor across the country. At least the assholes at HQ had done that right. California had swallowed up the states in the southwest, in addition to busting into Mexico in a desperate land grab.
What Gregor had witnessed on his diplomatic mission made him realize how well-off they were within The Tennessee Zone. While depravity was the new norm, at least in his Zone, there was some semblance of order. The California Zone looked more like a bad movie with leaders and warriors alike subscribing to the ultimate “us versus them” mentality. The slums that had taken hold in and around Los Angeles had even prompted the new government to move to Santa Catalina Island located off the California coast.
There they wined and dined while letting the rest of their populace starve, always getting them do the bidding of the fat cats across the water. That visit had prompted Gregor’s reassignment to Camp Cumberland. His relocation was guaranteed after he’d overturned a fully loaded dining table onto the collective delegates of The California Zone. It was the best decision he’d ever made. Well, at least he’d thought so at the time.
Now he was being besieged by an unknown force. Gregor gave a fleeting thought to heading outside the perimeter of the fence, taking the battle straight to the enemy. But that wasn’t his role. He was the protector of the precious few survivors. If his Zone was to have any chance of survival, every man and woman within his command would be needed alive.
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They weren’t concealed, and for a moment that gave me pause. It was impossible that the figures milling around up ahead hadn’t posted sentries. Maybe they had passive alarms close in. However, it was too late to think about that now.
I estimated twenty men from what I could spot. They had some type of command vehicle that bristled with antennas. There were also three tubes: high-density mortars. From what I could determine from their setup, a volley from us could take out half the enemy in seconds. Too easy, and nothing was ever that easy.
I was about to motion for the men to move closer when I heard one beep followed by another and then another, faster each time. The man to my left inhaled, and I threw myself right, tackling O’Mack as I flew.
The antipersonnel alarm was part alarm and part big boom. I didn’t see it, but from the force of the blast, I knew the poor guy it targeted was way dead. I’d gotten lucky. A few feet the other way and that could’ve been me. No time to think about that now. The jig was up, and already gunfire erupted in our direction.
I returned fire. My actions were almost mechanical, based on the primal need of survival. One might call it muscle memory. I plowed the enemies down. One man. Two men. Now three men down on the enemy side.
There was screaming by this time, and I felt, rather than saw, every weapon they had trained in our direction. I pulled O’Mack up from where he was firing, as calm as a nun in church, and we sprinted forward, leapfrogging like we’d been taught. It was tiring, only allowing us to get a couple shots off at each stop, but at least we were still alive.
I moved without thinking, firing without processing anything except for a target dropping in the dim glow up ahead. Over and over we went, the mortar tubes now silent as I’d taken out those gunners first.
Then I heard the plane overhead. It must have been hovering somewhere near the camp; it had cut in from that direction, fire erupting from its sleek underbelly. The enemy had to have infrared and night vision, because they walked their rounds in with perfection.
We’d lost our fourth man from the group, but I wasn’t about to go back and look for him. He was probably dead, and even if he wasn’t, the best chance for our survival was to keep moving forward. With our concentration so focused on the erupting fire, O’Mack and I fell into a ravine. Shots flamed over the gap; O’Mack and I lucked out and didn’t get hit.
But now we were pinned down. I saw O’Mack holding his leg. “It’s broken,” he said. “I can’t put any weight on it.”
“Stay here.”
He grunted in pain and he said, “I’ll cover you.”
I pointed to where the bird had flown by and we both laughed.
“You think you can take that thing down?” I asked.
“I’ll do my best.”
We shared a final grim nod, and I sprang from the hole, running like a madman to close the final fifty feet to the enemy.
+++
Gregor grinned at the sounds of gunfire from the tree line. “That crazy son of a bitch,” he grumbled in admiration. The mortar fire had stopped and, for the moment, the camp was left to burn. Every structure he could see seemed to be burning, and it appeared over half of the complex had been destroyed. Luckily, the chow hall was still standing, and it looked to be largely untouched.
Then the attack bird screamed in over their heads, apparently unimpressed by the weaponry within the camp. Its focus was elsewhere, seemingly at the forest beyond, where Ryker’s team was probably wreaking havoc on the enemy. But not for long.
Gregor listened, out of sight, while the guns rattled, mowing down whatever the pilot had in his sights. He’d seen the nasty aftermath of those flybys. He’d been the spotter sent to target the enemy and watch them get shredded by the high-caliber rounds or energy emitters that disintegrated anything living.
“Fuck this,” he said, and he ran back inside his hut. He was back in a minute, cradling a six-foot-long tube that looked as heavy as an oil drum.
“What the hell is that?” one of his instructors asked.
“Just a little something I made in shop class,” Gregor said. “Hand this up to me, will you?”
Even with the butt end settled on the ground, the instructor had a hard time with the thing as Gregor climbed up the side of his quarters and then motioned for the tube.
“I can’t lift it,” the man said.
“Somebody help him!” Gregor yelled.
Two more men went over to help hoist the tube into the air. Gregor grabbed it with one hand, lifting it up and onto his shoulder. Then he flipped a crude set of sights up, and looked over the length of the barrel. He’d only have one shot–one extremely explosive shot. His only hope now was that the attack bird would be stupid enough to make another run, thereby providing Gregor the small window he needed to take the shot.
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How the hell did I get to the command vehicle? Luck. Well, luck and the fact that the remnants of the army attacking force took cover when the black stingray overhead swooped in. Maybe they didn’t trust the pilot, or maybe they’d radioed to ask for fire on their position. I didn’t much care what the reason was, because I’d made it.
A head popped up six feet from me and I took it out. It was like playing the old Whack-a-Mole game.
Now I could make out the layout of the attack point. It was crude at best, and it was completely indefensible. Who were these guys? Could they really be that
stupid?
I heard a twig snap behind me, and I whirled around to take out the enemy. It was O’Mack. He’d made it out of the ditch, and he was hopping his way over to the command vehicle. I waved him on and winced when O’Mack raised his rifle and shot something to my right. I heard the body slip to the ground and O’Mack did too, grunting in pain.
Dammit.
Bolting from cover, I closed the distance as fast as I could. My compatriot was in the open, a dead target for any enemy smart enough to take a shot. I was just bending over to grab him when he pointed skyward. It was unnecessary. I had heard the hovering engines, and then a light shone down like a tractor beam.
“Put down your weapons,” came a speaker’s amplified voice from inside the aircraft.
O’Mack wasn’t scared. In fact, he looked at me and then up at the bird as if to say we could take it. No go, buddy.
I shook my head and dropped my weapon. O’Mack took the cue and dropped his as well.
“Put your hands over your heads,” ordered the voice.
O’Mack got up on his own, and we both stood there, squinting into the sun-like beam. The black aircraft hovered overhead for a long moment, and I wondered if they were calling back to headquarters for permission to fire on us. It didn’t look like we’d left anyone alive near the mortars, and no one disembarked from the command vehicle.
Something fell from the black bird and clanked on the ground.
“Put the cuffs on,” said the voice.
Was this for real? If they were going to kill us, why didn’t they get it over with? Before I could respond, I saw O’Mack’s hand shift. I looked over and saw that he was giving the pilot the international “Screw You” signal.
I didn’t want to die, but I sure as hell didn’t want to get captured. Therefore, in the tradition of soldiers supporting their brothers in arms I gave the same salute.
“I said, put the…”
The voice was cut off by a thunderous boom that sent us flying. Before I blacked out, I saw, with astonishment and fear, the winged menace as it fell out of the sky, careening directly toward us.
Chapter 15
I came to slowly. First to recover was my sense of smell. Industrial-strength cleaner with a hint of lilac, maybe? It reminded me of Jane and the cabin. She would pick lilacs and place the flowers in a chipped stone bowl. Nature’s air freshener after the apocalypse. At least that’s what I used to call it, and then Jane would roll her eyes. If I kept pressing, the result was a playful slap.
Jane. Where was she? How were the kids?
And then I began to hear sounds, muffled at first like I was under water, but over time the sounds became clearer. I heard myself moan. Next, I began to experience pain. Not suddenly, but gradually, I felt pain. It spread from my toes, up my legs, gripped my midsection and then shot out my arms.
I grimaced, which only worsened the pain. Then, I felt something warm on my arm. There were more muffled sounds. I tried to speak, but the words sounded hollow and echoed like ping pong balls in my head.
I was tired—so very tired. Like I hadn’t slept in months. I let that feeling take over my very being. Downward, spiraling further down.
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When I regained consciousness, my first sense was the smell of flowers again. I had the passing thought that maybe I was dead, but that couldn’t be. My brain was as muddled as before, and, just for the hell of it, I tried to open my eyes. They worked, and when they creaked open, the light that assaulted my senses wasn’t too overwhelming.
I heard muffled sounds at my side, so I turned my head. Initially, all I could see was a blur, but it got substantially better by the second. More sounds. Hearing didn’t clear as well as my vision, but when the view cleared, I almost passed out.
It was Jane, my beautiful Jane. How…what? I tried to talk, tried to say something, but it felt like I had cotton balls in my mouth; syllables wouldn’t form.
“Jane,” I tried to say. “Jane.”
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This time I heard a familiar voice, light and giggly. Charlie.
I turned my head toward the sound, and I felt a small hand caress my face. I smiled and was rewarded by more caresses.
“Mom, he’s awake,” came Sybil’s excited voice.
“Yeah, he’s awake,” said Andrew.
“Awake,” repeated Charlie.
I eased my eyes open carefully, the blur clearing faster this time. There they were, my beautiful children. My children were the center of my life. The time I had spent with them was the best investment I’d made in my life. I tried to reach out to them, but my arms wouldn’t move. For one brief, terrifying moment, I thought I was paralyzed.
Oh, God, not that.
But then Jane was there. “You’re in restraints,” she said. “Here, let me take them off.”
I felt immediate relief, and as soon as one hand could move, I reached out to Jane and then the kids. Everyone was crying, especially me. My family. Oh, my family. I really had thought I’d never see them again.
+++
Jane explained to me the doctor was affectionately called Doctor Plato by the HQ inhabitants. He declared that I was on the mend. I still didn’t like him, but I was exceedingly happy I would soon be able to leave the clinic.
“You’ve still got some hearing loss, but with some care, and the therapy I’ve prescribed, I’m reasonably optimistic that you’ll regain full use of both ears.” His diagnosis complete, Dr. Plato turned to Jane with that same admiring look that I’d hated the moment we’d first met. “I’ve gotta tell you, Jane’s been a real help around here. If I’m not careful she may take my job.”
I saw Jane blush and that made me want to jump from the exam table and throttle the ass-kissing physician.
“Does this mean I can leave?” I asked.
Dr. Plato’s gaze lingered on Jane before realizing I had asked a question. “Sure. I’d recommend a wheelchair ride up to your quarters, but I don’t see why you can’t sleep in your own bunk tonight.”
“Thanks, doc, but I don’t think a wheelchair is necessary.”
I slipped off the table and almost fainted, but I wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing me fall. I took Jane’s hand, both to show the doctor who she was married to, but more importantly for physical support. I really did feel like I was going to fall over, but I gave Dr. Plato a forced smile as I walked out the door.
As soon as we got into the hallway, I flopped down on the first bench I could find. Sweat wasn’t dripping—it was cascading down my face and back.
“Honey, are you okay?” Jane asked.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Just got up a little too fast.” I wasn’t going to admit to my wife that the only reason I looked like a sweaty ghost was because her precious doctor had gotten the best of me. “Just give me a second to catch my breath.”
She looked at me, not with concern, but with the “why are men so damned stubborn” look.
“Let me get you a wheelchair.”
“I’m fine. Seriously.”
I was not fine. The days of laying in that bed (five to be exact, according to Jane) had helped the healing process, but my body was weakened and not ready for the five-minute walk to our room. It took four more starts and stops before we got there, and I was so nauseous and lightheaded by then that I didn’t even notice we were in another part of the complex, until Jane opened the door.
The kids all jumped out and yelled, “Surprise!” That lasted about as long as it took for Sybil to see my face. I must’ve been quite a sight, drenched in sweat and white as a sheet.
“Daddy, are you okay?” she asked, taking a tentative step forward.
Charlie was blissfully unaware, coming in for a bear hug on my leg.
“Daddy!” he said.
“Hey, bud. How’s my big man?”
“Good.”
“And how about you, Andrew?”
My second child was staring at me with what I can only describe as childlike apprehension. Suc
h as when you tell children you want them to do something, like eat broccoli, and they make the face like that’s the last thing in the world they want to do.
“You look gross, Dad,” he said.
Jane laughed, but I heard the nervousness there.
“Daddy just needs to take a shower, kids.”
“But the surprise, Mom. What about the surprise?” Sybil asked.
“It won’t take me long, honey, I promise,” I said.
When I got to the bathroom (this one was much larger than the other one), I sat down on the toilet while Jane got the water ready.
“You should’ve told me you weren’t feeling well,” she scolded. “I think you really scared the kids.”
I felt like crap and was in no mood to hear her lecture.
“Yeah, well why don’t you ask Dr. Pluto to come take care of them? I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that.”
The look she gave me said it all. I’d gone too far. I’d crossed the line. It wasn’t something I did often, but when I did she let me know.
“I’m sorry, babe, really,” I said, grabbing her hand. It was limp in mine, my punishment. “Look, I just wanted to get out of there, okay? I’m a stubborn ass; you’ve told me countless times. Well, this stubborn ass thought he could walk to his plush new home instead of taking the handicap-mobile. I’m sorry.”
“Well, as long as you admit that you’re a stubborn ass.” Her hand squeezed mine.
“I’ll admit it as much as you want. I, Ryker, am a stubborn ass.”
“Shh! The kids will hear you.”
I grinned and then said, “You think they’ll give us five minutes to take a shower?”
Chapter 16