Kent watched as Naylor held out both hands. “No argument there, friend. We aren’t looking to enforce any authority we no longer have. We just—”
The New Republic man’s radio blared to life with a mash-up of voices that talked over each other. The leader grinned and waved his radio at them. “You’ll excuse me.”
Jim Naylor didn’t like how this was going. He hadn’t expected a joyous “cavalry is here” mentality when they had rolled up, but the open hostility of the little dweeb was throwing him. In the world that they’d experienced since stepping ashore, the roadblock captain wasn’t anything like the type of person he’d imagine in charge of anything. People like the jack ass in flip flops got authority through organization, laws, and bureaucracies—which, if the guy hadn’t been a total prick, would have been a good sign. He watched the leader with the radio disappear behind the Bradley and took a moment to acknowledge the others standing around him.
“I don’t think he likes me.” Naylor did his best to smile. “How are the rest of you folks doing?”
A solid-looking guy with an M4 nodded at him. “He doesn’t like anybody.”
“I don’t care who they say they are. We need to know more.” General Marks’s voice over the radio was full of excitement. “Invite them in. Talk to them.”
Lisa wanted to agree, at least in part. A new player, a military one at that . . . in her mind, it came down to a choice between adding capability and the potential risk to her own leadership that came with it. In the end, the last thing she wanted was to infect this place with even more emotional detritus from the past. Having Steven handling her troops had been a necessity, but that benefit was starting to wear thin. She would have killed to have him in the room with her. She could have kept him off the radio, but he was out on campus with “his” boys, as he called them, running some training.
Thankfully, the leader at the eastern roadblock was one of her people. “Russel, bring them in. Send the rest of them packing.”
“For God’s sake, don’t fire on them!” Marks shouted into the radio.
“Russel, take the three you have prisoner,” she said calmly. “I think we need to send a message to the rest of them.”
“Don’t do this, Lisa,” Steven pleaded on the radio.
She came to another decision. “I’ll need you to talk to them, General. Why don’t you join me back here?”
“Good news!” The rat face came smiling from back around the armored personnel carrier. He signaled to one of his people. “Drive these three to the university.” He turned back to them. “You’re going to be our guests for a short while.”
“Guests?” Naylor asked. “That wasn’t what we had in mind.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t.” The young man bounced once on his flip-flops, pleased with his answer. “Like I mentioned earlier, you’ve got no authority here.” He motioned with his fingers, and three men with M4s stepped forward, surrounded them, and herded them towards a pickup truck. They did as they were bid and crawled up into the bed of the truck over the tailgate. One of the men guarding them followed and sat against the tailgate, covering them as the other two hopped into the cab.
“You don’t want to do this.” Naylor was on his feet in the back of the truck, looking down at the roadblock’s captain.
“You’re right about that; I’d rather shoot you on sight—but the boss lady wants to question you.”
The guard in the truck with him sat against the tailgate and motioned for him to sit with the barrel of his rifle. They pulled out onto the freeway behind the roadblock and sped off with him and Hoyt seated on the wheel hubs, staring at each other. Kent was sitting with his back against the cab. They’d just gone around a gradual curve in the interstate, losing sight of the back of the barricade, when the afternoon was split open by the ripping concussion of the 25mm chain gun opening up. It fired for what seemed like an eternity as their pickup slowed to a stop. The driver was in the process of stepping out to look back behind them. A stream of oily black smoke was clearly visible, rising over the horizon of trees.
“They just took out the Humvee and the follow car—no survivors.” Lucas’s voice in his ear sounded pissed off.
“You know what to do,” Naylor said, as everyone was looking back behind them, all except the young man who was covering them.
“Who are you talking to?”
Lucas was seething as he looked out at the shredded remains of the empty Humvee and the burning wreckage of the Tahoe that had held four of their number. Including Katia, the cute Russian meteorologist he’d shared a cup of coffee with this morning. He was only dimly aware of Naylor’s voice in his ear as he slapped Salguero on the shoulder. “Take it out!”
He looked further up the freeway. “Trey—weapons fr—”
Nathans’s sniper rifle boomed before he’d finished speaking.
Mr. Rat Face, standing next to the Bradley, fairly exploded from hydrostatic pressure as Nathans’s .50 caliber slug took him in the middle of the chest. Salguero launched the Javelin with the characteristic two-staged “boom—swoosh” sound. He followed the missile’s short diagonal path across and down the freeway until it slammed into the Bradley. The shaped charge warhead was designed to punch holes of super-heated plasma through the armor of a main battle tank. The Bradley was a fine armored vehicle, but it didn’t stand a chance of shrugging off the hit. It seemed to rock with the impact until the onboard ammunition, fuel, and oxygen within the vehicle ignited; then it exploded. It came apart with a massive secondary that took out a group of the nearby guards who had been manning the barricade.
Naylor couldn’t see the anti-tank missile, but they’d all heard it hit. The lone guard in the back of the truck started to turn his head towards the driver, who had walked to the back bumper. “What the hell was that?”
Jim lunged at the guard in the bed of the truck, focusing on the barrel of the gun, slamming into him and pinning the man’s rifle against his body and the tailgate. He was aware of the driver outside the truck shouting, and he looked up in time to see the man blown over. The report of a rifle rolled across the freeway a second later. Lucas, he thought for a second, but then remembered it was the smart-assed Marine Nathans who was the sniper.
He was face-to-face with his guard, aware that Kent and Hoyt behind were yelling something. The world around the pickup truck exploded in automatic rifle fire; the tailgate was hit, spalling something into his face. The man he was grappling with was hit in the head a second before he heard, more than felt, himself get hit twice. He sagged back, grabbing at the searing pain in his neck just as another rifle shot boomed out of the woods above the freeway.
Hoyt was suddenly on top of him, gripping him by the throat. His vision was fading, but he could see Hoyt screaming at him from above. Why was Hoyt mad at him? It was going to be all right.
“God dammit, NO!” Hoyt was screaming over Naylor’s body as Kent jumped out of the truck and grabbed up the M4 from the dead driver. He made it around to the other side of the truck and confirmed the third guard, the one who’d sprayed the back of the truck with his M4, was dead. Most of the man’s head was missing. The Marine sniper was good, but the shot had been just a little too late to save Captain Naylor.
“Hoyt! We gotta go now!” Kent scanned the freeway in the direction from which they’d just come. They’d have company soon.
“I’m not leaving the skipper!” Hoyt yelled back at him. Kent glanced over the bed of the truck, knowing what he was going to see; he’d seen the captain get hit in the back of the neck. “He could have left you all. He didn’t.” Hoyt was daring him to argue the point.
“Get out of there!” the detached voice in his earbud yelled at him. “You are about to have company!”
“Hoyt!”
The former Navy chief cum executive officer of the USS Boise lifted his head away from his captain long enough to just stare at him and shake his head. “I’m not leaving him.”
Kent saw Corporal Nathans appear at the e
dge of the road, coming out from behind a line of thick foliage, before they’d made it halfway across the median of the interstate. The Marine was waving them on and screaming into his mic. “Move it!” Naylor’s body between them was already getting heavy; the captain had been a big guy.
Nathans ran across the eastbound lanes to meet them and helped them drag Naylor off the road and into the thick woods lining the road. The Marine took one close look at their burden, grabbed Hoyt by the lapels, and stood him up against a tree.
“Chief! Your captain is dead! Don’t waste what he did.”
Hoyt made to shrug Nathans off, but the Marine was having none of it. He slammed Hoyt up against the tree. “The drone’s got big numbers rolling in our direction. We need to move! We’ll come back for the captain; I promise you.”
Nathans turned to look down at him. “Make sure you get his radio; we are going now.”
They moved deeper into the woods, uphill until they reached a rocky outcropping where Nathans had set up. The sniper took a moment to hand over his M4 to Hoyt, and slung his pack on and scooped up his sniper rifle.
“Farmer, Trey—we are three moving to you. Captain Naylor is KIA.”
“Understood. Negative Trey, heavy traffic rolling down Richmond Road. Go to secondary.”
“Copy all, meet at secondary—Nathans out.”
“Colonel? Should I alert Gunny, I mean Lieutenant Bruce?”
Drew only half heard Private Park. They’d all been listening to the radio, transmitted back by the drone overhead the fiasco outside Charlottesville. It was his fault; he’d let himself get talked into this direct approach by Naylor. Now the man was dead.
“Alert them. Tell him to hold position until dark. Then move to retrieve our people at the secondary.”
His failure? He’d failed to believe how far people had fallen; how hard they’d hold onto whatever power and authority they’d managed to grab since the die-off. It wasn’t a mistake he’d make again. He’d overheard Naylor’s conversation at the roadblock. These people felt power was the only authority? Fine; he’d give them a lesson that reinforced that.
“Captain Volkov?”
“Sir?” Pavel had been bent over the map with him, listening to the radio.
“Make preparations to move everyone and the two trucks of gear we have loaded to this location.” His finger dropped on the map. “Zion Crossroads, where Highway 15 and the freeway intersect. That will put us within about twelve miles of these people.”
“Are we going hunting, Colonel?”
As much as he wanted to answer “yes” to that question, he knew they were too far outnumbered to contemplate offensive operations. What they could try to do was remove the permissive nature of the local area around Charlottesville; get them scared of their own shadow, test the leadership of whoever was holding the place together. Then they’d go hunting.
“Not yet, Pavel. But you, me, and the Marines now know what we are dealing with— people playing at soldier, and they just broke the oldest rule in the book. Maybe the most important rule we have in the apocalypse.”
“I was not aware we had rules, Colonel.”
“The Golden Rule, Pavel. Surely, you learned this as a child in Russia.”
He watched a slow smile crack the Russian’s face. “My grandmother tried teaching me that, but I ran with a rough crowd. We had our own version; do unto others before they can do to you.”
Drew could only think of how excited Jim had been to make contact with another group. They’d put their best foot forward and lost it. He’d fucked up, and Jim had paid with his life. “Going forward, that may work.”
*
Chapter 14
Northern Virginia
They had just entered the lobby of the hotel from the street side. Jason had been focusing on the duty guards. Daniel and Reed had them squared away and briefed up on what they were dealing with. Everybody was a little more on edge than they had been a day ago, which was all to the good as far as he was concerned. It just wasn’t enough. Concentrated like they were here, in a semi-urban environment surrounded by high- rises, nothing was going to be enough. There were no exits from the area that didn’t look like a street, and those could be blocked.
“Finally!” He and Rachel had been holding hands when Michelle spotted them.
Rachel seemed to take the attention in stride as he felt his face redden like he’d just been caught by his friends at a junior high dance. He felt Rachel’s grip on his hand tighten. She wasn’t going to let go.
“The tough guy has a heart?” Michelle looked far too happy for his taste as she finished beelining towards them across the lobby.
“He does,” Rachel answered for him.
“Jason!”
He turned in time to half catch Elsa as the young girl slammed into him and wrapped him up in a bear hug around the waist.
“Hey there, kiddo!” He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head before he’d realized what he’d done. He caught himself; not for the act but for the heartfelt relief at seeing her again. Rachel and Michelle were smiling at him when he looked back up.
“Promise me you’re not going to leave again?” Elsa pulled back and pointed at Rachel. “Rachel’s been all grumpy bones the whole time.”
“I wonder why . . .” Michelle whispered loudly enough that they all heard.
Jason felt something run into the back of his knee and looked down as Loki joined the reunion. He knelt and gave the dog a fierce rub, causing the Lab to do an immediate flop onto his back and expose his belly. He looked up at Elsa. “You’ve been taking care of him?”
“Yep! Reed takes him out during the day, but he stays with me. Can we go home now?”
Jason stood back up and wiped at something caught in his eyes. Rachel and Michelle had the grace not to say anything. He came to a decision.
“You bet. We’ve got some stuff to do here today. But if you’ll get Pro and yourself ready, we’ll all go back home tonight.”
“He’s ready,” Elsa said. “He’s been arguing with Dr. Adams and Nurse Sonia since yesterday.”
“And anyone else who talks to him,” Michelle added.
Jason looked at Michelle. “In the meantime, everyone ready?”
“Waiting on you two.”
The meeting had gone down just about like he’d figured it would. Too many people wanted to stay and try to defend the refuge they’d built around the hotel and the supplies they’d foraged. In some cases, it was as simple as food security; others pointed out that they had power to run the lights and refrigerators; still others thought the numbers and the weapons they had were enough to defend against any threat.
Michelle in particular wanted to stay and fight. The amount of influence the woman had with most of the citizens of Tysons went a long way, and for good reason. She’d been a beacon of hope for many of these people when they’d lived under the sheriff, and they weren’t going to gainsay her now. As she had put it, “The place was built with our sweat and blood. We aren’t going to let anybody just have it.”
“No, they’ll take it,” he’d said, getting heated. “They want the people, not your damned solar panels and canned vegetables. As far as I can tell, they’ll treat the people who survive the attack fair enough as long as you toe the line and do their bidding—which amounts to rounding up more people who would just as soon be left alone. If you want that deal, stay.”
“You’ve got your own fortress, power, water,” Michelle had fired back at him. “You’re asking the rest of us to pack up?”
“Pack up now,” he agreed. “Do it in an organized fashion, plan it. Do it while you can. Take what you can. I’m not suggesting we disperse to the four corners; just find a couple of suburbs, where we can support each other. If you don’t, those who survive will be limited to what they can carry while they’re being hunted.”
He watched Daniel’s face as the room fairly exploded with people shouting over each other. He was sure Daniel agreed with him. He was just a
s certain Daniel would be staying with Michelle, whatever she decided.
He turned around and nodded at Reed and Gabe standing by the door. With a nod in return, they stepped out. It was time to play dirty. If he couldn’t convince them, maybe somebody else could.
He slammed the tabletop with his palm and shouted for silence. It only took a second for the shouting to be reined in.
“I’m having Carla brought in.” He looked directly at Michelle. “All I ask is that we all act like we are considering reaching out to Charlottesville. No threats, no yelling. Let’s hear from their spy what her people are offering. If you still want to stay after that, I’ll support it.”
Daniel spoke up. “You expect us to believe anything that woman says?”
“All I’m asking is that you hear her out. Then make a decision about whether you believe her or not.”
Michelle was glaring at him. The woman was a fighter, and there was no one he’d rather have on his team. But she was hanging on too hard to “a place.” As stupid as it seemed, he understood it. They’d all lost everything. No one wanted to do it again.
Carla was put in a chair in front of the meeting room. Jason signaled for her handcuffs to be taken off. There were close to two dozen people in the room, all of them armed. Reed stood behind her with his handgun in hand. The woman looked like she hadn’t slept in days, but it did nothing to dampen the hate that radiated off her as she took in the faces staring back at her. Her gaze settled on Ray, who leaned against the wall halfway down the table.
Jason saw some surprise flicker across the woman’s face. “Let me save us all some time,” he said. “Carla, you might be figuring out that Ray was onto you for some time. He volunteered for our interrogation session. He’s told us everything you divulged to him.”
Seasons of Man | Book 2 | Reap What You Sow Page 13