Push Back: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (The Disruption Series Book 2)

by R. E. McDermott

  Anderson looked back at the pair on the ground, shook his head and sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. “It’s too late for that now. I’m in this up to my neck whether I want to be or not. I’ve given them the slip twice, but if they pick up my trail again, I won’t escape them a third time. And if they catch y’all, they’ll figure out—”

  “We won’t give you up, if that’s what you’re thinking—”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “Oh yeah you will, regardless of what you think now. When they start cutting pieces off Jeremy here, you’ll sing like a bird. That’s just the way it is, and we both know it.” Anderson nodded toward Dwyer. “And then there’s Mr. Loose End over there.”

  She looked at Dwyer and narrowed her eyes. “That the asshole that hit Jeremy?”

  Anderson nodded and she stared at the man. He was ogling her naked body despite his circumstances. She broke eye contact with Dwyer and turned back to Anderson.

  “All right. I know a place that might work. I’ll finish dressing Jeremy’s wound while you pull their vehicle over here to give him some shade. We’ll make him as comfortable as possible while we work things out. Then maybe you can have a little chat with our friend over there to see if you can figure out how much time we have, while I go put some clothes on.”

  Anderson nodded. “I have to admit the view is a bit distracting.”

  “Yeah well, that was the idea. I figured if you were watching my ass, it would be a lot easier to get the drop on you.”

  ***

  “He says they were supposed to hit two more places and return to their base, which is in Buena Vista,” Anderson said. “And I’d say their radio protocol is pretty lax, else someone would have been calling on the Hummer radio by now.”

  “You trust him?” Cindy asked, now fully clothed in jeans and a tee shirt.

  “Hell no,” Anderson said, “but that concurs with what I overheard him and the other one say when they didn’t know I was listening, so I think he’s telling the truth. We may have two or three hours. Maybe more if we can create a diversion. How far did you say this cave was?”

  “Six or seven miles, but rough miles. We can follow a creek bed maybe five miles in the UTV, but the last leg is too steep for the vehicle. I’m worried about bouncing Jeremy around on the ride up, so we need to go slow, and I have no clue how long it will take us to get him up to the cave. We’ll need all the time we can get.”

  Anderson looked down at the boy. He’d started opening his eyes for short periods and made a halfhearted attempt to sit up a bit earlier, but his mother chided him and pushed him back down gently but firmly.

  “Looks like he may be feeling a bit better,” Anderson said.

  “I hope so, but we still need that time. What’s your diversion?”

  “This Hummer will have a GPS tracking device on it. I don’t know if the satellites are still working, but if they are and FEMA pings the Hummer, they’ll know it’s sitting right here. I doubt they will as long as these guys don’t call in any problems. However, I’m sure they check in at least sporadically, and if someone at their base can’t raise them, they’ll start pinging the tracker to locate the Hummer. When they do, we don’t want them to send the cavalry here. Is there a gorge or steep drop-off near here on the turnpike?”

  “Take your pick,” she said. “There are a dozen places on the turnpike within a mile in either direction.”

  Anderson nodded. “The nearest one to the south then, since that’s the direction of the assholes’ next stop.”

  She shot him a questioning look and he told her his plan.

  ***

  Anderson had just finished stripping the Humvee when Cindy drove up in the UTV. She looked at the pile and the two five-gallon fuel cans sitting beside it.

  “That’s diesel, right? What good will it do us?”

  “We’ll need a couple of cans here, for … you know.”

  Cindy sighed. “You sure we have to?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure. That seems to be their standard operating procedure. Otherwise they may start searching for us.”

  “All right.” She glanced at the bound Dwyer and let out a slow, ragged breath. “I … I’ll take care of him then help you load the bodies.”

  “I got the bodies. I’m already covered with blood anyway.” He paused. “You sure you don’t want me to take care of this asshole?”

  She shook her head. “It was Jeremy and me he was going to murder. If we had a trial, I have no doubt how it would turn out. It’s just quicker now is all. Besides, you said it yourself, leaving him alive guarantees they’ll be on us. He has to die. You did your share taking out the other two. This one’s on me.”

  Anderson nodded, then changed the subject. “What about Jeremy?”

  “I think he’ll be okay here. We shouldn’t be gone over twenty minutes tops, and I’d just as soon bounce him around as little as possible.”

  Anderson nodded, then reached down to lift Carr’s body and wrestle it into the Hummer. He finished and drove the short distance to the house and dragged the sergeant’s naked body off the back porch. He noticed the man was his size and had conveniently left his uniform in the house. He filed that for future notice. He’d just heaved the body into the Hummer when he heard the Glock bark twice. He looked back toward the logging road and saw Cindy standing over Dwyer’s body, the gun in her hand. That’s one tough woman, he thought.

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, the Humvee was burning at the bottom of a steep embankment half a mile south of the logging road intersection with Lexington Turnpike. They drove the UTV back to the cabin to find Jeremy as they left him, no better, but no worse. Anderson went into the cabin and stripped off his bloody clothes to put on the dead sergeant’s uniform, but the rank stench of his own unwashed body overwhelmed him. He looked longingly toward the small bathroom. Screw it! He finished stripping and stepped into the small bathroom to wash.

  He emerged from the cabin feeling ill at ease in the SPF uniform, but almost human after cleaning up. The woman was loading the UTV.

  “Sorry, I took some time to clean up,” he said.

  She nodded. “And we’re all glad you did. No offense, but you smelled like a dead skunk rotting in the sun. I wasn’t looking forward to being cooped up in a cave with you.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t that bad.”

  “Oh yeah, it was.” She sniffed the air. “But it’s much better now.”

  Anderson looked at the rig. It was a Kawasaki Mule, the big crew cab model. She had the rear seat folded down to extend the bed, and a small trailer attached behind.

  “Where did the trailer come from?” he asked.

  “Behind the chicken coop. I’m not sure it will make it, but if we have to ditch it, we’ll at least have a cache closer to the cave.”

  He looked skeptically at the piles of gear beside the Mule. “Are you leaving ANYTHING here?”

  “Not if I can help it. If it won’t all fit, we’ll toss it back in the house and torch it, but I can’t see leaving it for those assholes. And like I said, if we can’t get it to the cave, we’ll cache it somewhere in the woods.”

  He nodded. “Point taken. How can I help?”

  “I want to check on Jeremy. You keep loading.”

  Anderson nodded and set to work as Cindy moved to where Jeremy still lay on the ground, a pillow from the cabin under his head. He focused on the task at hand and looked up twenty minutes later when Cindy returned leading a slow-moving and still befuddled Jeremy by the arm. She guided her son gently to a seat on the front steps of the cabin and turned to Anderson.

  “Wow. That’s progress,” she said, looking at the Mule and trailer.

  “I think we’ll be able to load it all,” he said. “Assuming you don’t have another pile somewhere.”

  “Just the chickens.”

  “Seriously? How the hell we gonna carry chickens?”

  “We tie them in pairs by their feet and throw them over the crossbar above the seats. And y
ou’ll be happy to have them if we have to hole up in that cave. Chickens and eggs are protein we don’t have to hunt.”

  Anderson shook his head and looked at his watch. “All right, but we’ve burned almost an hour of our grace period. We have to get out of here soon.”

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, Cindy pulled the fully loaded and chicken-festooned Mule well away from the cabin. She left Jeremy resting comfortably on top of a pile of softer items in the bed of the UTV and walked back to where Anderson stood in front of the cabin. He looked up as she approached.

  “I spread the diesel from the Humvee all over the place inside and spread piles of easily flammable stuff like curtains and books around. It should go up fairly quickly.”

  Tears glistened in Cindy’s eyes. She nodded.

  “You okay?” Anderson asked.

  “Yeah. It’s just hard. Jeremy and I built this place ourselves from one of those kits, then insulated it and turned it into a real little house. It might not look like much to you, but we were happy here. It … it’s just hard, that’s all.”

  Anderson nodded. “It looks fine. Better than fine the way things are now, but we have to do it. They’ll find the burned house and think the SRF thugs torched it with you inside. Then hopefully, they’ll figure the patrol left the scene and was ambushed by forces unknown.” He paused. “It’s the only way, Cindy.”

  Her face hardened. “Okay. Do it, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  ***

  They pulled out of the clearing five minutes later, Anderson at the wheel, and Cindy riding in the bed with Jeremy’s head on a pillow in her lap. The cabin blazed behind them as they headed north, deeper into the woods.

  “How far to the creek?” Anderson asked.

  “About a quarter of a mile,” Cindy said. “Then just turn right up the creek bed and we’ll go as far as we can.”

  Anderson did as instructed, and soon they were bumping north in four-wheel drive along the slate-bottomed creek. He drove up the middle of the shallow creek, leaving no tire tracks on the hard rock of the creek bed. He drove slowly, trying to minimize the jarring, but the creek descended the slope in terraced steps, and it was like driving up a staircase in places. He kept glancing back to see Cindy riding tight-lipped, holding on to a crossbar above her with one hand while she steadied Jeremy’s head with the other.

  The fast-running water was only an inch or two deep in most places, though it collected in scattered tranquil pools. He rolled through each with a silent prayer none hid a hole deep enough to swallow a tire or break an axle. At spots the stair-stepped slate bottom was covered with slick green slime, and the wheels slipped as the Mule slid from side to side. He powered through each spot, voicing apologies over his right shoulder for the rougher ride, and with a nagging worry they were leaving tracks in the slime.

  The creek bed followed a meandering path, almost doubling back on itself in places. He found it all but impossible to judge how far they’d come. When they’d been traveling a little over an hour, he shot a worried glance up at a darkening sky and the steep, rocky sides of the stream. The creek was narrowing and the banks were getting even steeper as the creek disappeared around a bend. He stopped the Mule and set the brake before he turned back to Cindy.

  “How’s he doing?” he asked.

  Cindy shrugged. “Okay, I think. Why are we stopping?”

  “The banks are getting really steep. We couldn’t get the Mule out here if we tried, and it looks like this thing is turning into a gorge. Are we going to be able to get out when we get where we’re going? And how much farther is it anyhow?”

  “Another mile, more or less. Look for three big oak trees on the left bank. And the creek does narrow between high rock walls for most of the way, but then the banks drop down again. We should be able to drive out just past Three Oaks, if not before.”

  “SHOULD? Aren’t you sure—”

  “Look, I’ve never been here in the Mule, so I’m not SURE of anything, all right? Except my kid’s hurt and I just killed someone and burned down my friggin’ house and—”

  Anderson was raising his hand in a ‘calm down’ gesture when he heard something over the Mule’s engine. He reached down and switched it off.

  Cindy stopped mid-rant. “Why did you—”

  She was silenced by a low distant rumble echoing down the little hollow.

  “Thunder,” Anderson said, “and this is absolutely the last place we want to be in a thunderstorm. It looks like this creek drains the whole hollow.”

  He swiveled all the way around and looked back downstream. He had no room to turn around without unhitching the trailer, and even then, it would be blocking the way downstream. He contemplated trying to back the trailer down the windy, bumpy stream bed until he could find a place to get out of the creek. How far? A half-mile at least with a dozen hairpin turns to back around. He envisioned missing a turn and the Mule and trailer jamming between the steep banks of the creek.

  “Crap!”

  He faced back upstream and felt a freshening breeze and the smell of ozone as the sky got darker. He started the Mule and released the brake.

  “I’m sorry, but this is gonna be bumpy. We have to try to make it through that gorge before the creek floods. Hang on!”

  “DO IT!” she shouted over the engine and a sudden crash of thunder.

  Chapter Nine

  Up a Creek

  12 miles northeast of Buena Vista, Virginia

  Day 29, 4:45 p.m.

  Anderson picked up speed, and the Mule bounced over the rough creek bed, the hitch shrieking as the trailer bounced over its own rocks out of sync with the Mule. Fat raindrops exploded against the Plexiglas windshield, mixing with the film of dust and running down in muddy streams. It hardly mattered—within two minutes the rain was hitting them in sheets and the windshield was both washed clean and totally opaque as the rain washed over it in buckets. Anderson hung his head out to the left around the windshield, squinting as the driving rain lashed his face. The chickens, quiet up to now, all began to cluck plaintively.

  He was driving by guess, using the left bank as reference and hoping like hell he didn’t hit anything on the right. But hope failed him regularly, and both the Mule and the trailer sideswiped the right bank frequently as he swerved around blind turns. On a particularly sharp turn to the left, a protruding tree root lashed his shoulder, narrowly missing his head. He cried out in pain and surprise, jerking the wheel and almost running the Mule directly into the right bank before he recovered.

  They were well into the gorge, the sheer stone of the banks towering fifteen or twenty feet on both sides, the water rising higher as it rushed beneath them. He leaned out and looked—six inches up the front tire and beginning to offer resistance. He mashed the accelerator harder in an effort to maintain headway and risked a glance back over his shoulder. His passengers were wet to the skin, with Cindy hunched over Jeremy, holding him tight. The boy was fully awake now, his eyes wide with terror.

  Anderson turned back just in time to dodge another tree root protruding from the rock wall, then leaned out again. It was almost dark as night now, and he turned on the Mule’s headlights, which did little but illuminate the driving rain. He had no idea how far they’d come, but it seemed like miles, and still the banks towered above them, sheer and unforgiving. The water was rising insanely fast. It was over halfway up the wheels now, the wake from the front tires rebounding off the creek sides and sloshing into the Mule. He had the accelerator to the floor, but he could feel the Mule slow with each passing second.

  He hunched over the wheel, the water sloshing up to the headlights now and the motor straining to inch them forward. He was desperately searching for plan B when he noticed the left bank was not nearly as high, barely above the top of the Mule. Three vertical shapes flashed white in the headlights—Three Oaks!

  “ALMOST THERE!” he yelled back over his shoulder and mashed the accelerator so hard his foot hurt, even though he’d flo
ored it long ago.

  The Mule was almost stopped, and he willed it forward. The rain was slackening a bit, the sky slightly lighter, and he felt a rush of adrenaline as he saw the left bank ahead was fairly steep but climbable. Inch by inch, the Mule gained ground and he felt the front end rising out of the water; then the wheels started spinning, and forward progress halted. He set the brake and turned to Cindy.

  “WE’RE TOO HEAVY TO GET UP THE BANK. I’M GONNA TRY TO RUN THE WINCH CABLE UP AROUND ONE OF THOSE TREES TO HELP GET US OUT. I NEED YOU AT THE WHEEL IN CASE WE START SLIDING BACK!”

  Cindy wiped a wet strand of hair out of her face and nodded. She gently disentangled herself from her frightened son and splashed down in the creek on the driver’s side and slid into the driver’s seat as soon as Anderson exited.

  “WE COULD SLIDE BACK AT ANY TIME. KEEP A CLOSE EYE ON IT AND FLOOR IT THEN RELEASE THE BRAKE IF IT LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE LOSING IT. IF I CAN GET THE CABLE AROUND ONE OF THOSE TREES, I THINK WE’LL BE OKAY.”

  She nodded as he moved to the front of the Mule and hit the cable release on the winch; then she watched as, hook in hand, Anderson pulled out the cable and scrambled and limped up the slippery slope. He hooked the cable around one of the big oaks and started back down, almost falling several times.

  “HIT THE WINCH AND TRY TO DRIVE OUT! I’LL STAY OUT TO TAKE THE WEIGHT OFF.”

  She nodded again, and Anderson stepped back and gave her a thumbs-up. She hit the gas and the winch simultaneously, and the Mule shuddered and began an agonizingly slow crawl up the steep bank. Anderson grinned like an idiot; a bit prematurely, as it turned out. The Mule ground to a halt and Cindy yelled over the pounding rain and roaring creek, the Mule, and the shrieking chickens.

  “IT’S STILL TOO HEAVY. MAYBE IF WE HELP JEREMY OUT—”

  Anderson looked back at the fast-rising creek, well up his calves even close to the bank. He shook his head.

  “I DON’T THINK THAT’LL BE ENOUGH, AND WE’VE ONLY GOT ONE SHOT AT THIS. IT’S THE TRAILER. IT’S JUST TOO HEAVY. WE HAVE TO DITCH IT NOW, OR WE LOSE EVERYTHING.”