Endurance: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Highway Book 2)

by ML Banner

  “Besides trying to find the weapons, which if I know my father, will be difficult if not impossible, I have the loyalty of many men. They’ll follow me, and we’ll stay out of your way. We can even help you stay in control of this area. Florida is a big state. You can’t run it all.”

  “We have plenty of men devoted to the cause of Allah.”

  “I’m sure you do, but you can’t be everywhere. By dealing with me, Endurance and the surrounding area will be one section you won’t have to worry about, and you won’t have to put any of your men at risk.”

  Ramadi thought the boy made good points. And as Mohammad, peace be upon him, taught, it was better to make deals with your enemies until you were strong enough to take them over. That was what he’d do.

  “All right, you have a deal. Now show me my guns.”

  Cain motioned to his cab “My men are looking for them right now. But first, I have your crate in the back of my truck. It has your drugs and your targets. I’ve shown it to no one else.”

  This surprised Ramadi; he thought Price had taken those as well. Now he wondered if this boy was talking from both sides of his mouth. “But you didn’t take my guns?”

  “No, and I’m not sure exactly where they are. But until we find them, my men are bringing you a bunch of military weapons and ammo in a few minutes. Then I’ll help you find your own weapons.”

  “Very well,” said Ramadi. He wanted his guns and to be done with this whining dog.

  ~~~

  Frank & Lexi

  They watched everything from a short distance away, using binoculars they had in their bags.

  When Frank and Lexi parked the truck off the road and behind a small structure, they could see the boats had already arrived at the inlet the sign had called a harbor. The boats were parked on the launch, but empty. And their timing couldn’t have been any better. They found a stand of trees they were able to hide behind and watch Cain talking to the enemy, a man wearing traditional imam’s clothing. At first, Cain looked tense, and the imam looked like he was going to shoot him. But after a few minutes, they looked like they were old friends. Based on what they’d seen and heard, it appeared that Cain was going behind Jonah’s back to make some sort of deal with the enemy.

  “But why?” Lexi asked. “What would he gain by helping people who want to kill everyone who isn’t their type of Muslim?”

  Frank wondered the same thing, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was their security and the security of their town. “Let’s get out of here. Then we’ll try raising Jasper again.”

  “Remember,” she whispered, “he’s not answering.”

  “Come on.” He offered his hand. “We’ll tell Travis. Maybe he’s reached Jonah. He can relay the info to both of them.”

  “So where are we going?” Lexi asked as Frank pulled her up from where she had been lying prone.

  “With the enemy here, we still have a chance of warning Endurance. Maybe we can track—” Frank stopped. Lexi, following close behind him, didn’t see why until she came out into a clearing. She raised her hands.

  Two men had their rifles pointed at them. One spoke into his radio. “We have them.”

  Chapter 27

  Stowell, Texas

  Grimes

  “Just a little further… another foot … all right, that’s good,” he proudly announced over the radio.

  The antenna teetered, and all watching held their collective breath. Two men at the base worked rapidly, affixing their brackets on each side. They then tightened the bolts, holding the newly sawed-off base to the newly straightened tower. The driver kept the truck idling in gear, keeping the tow ropes taut while she waited for the command to release the tension. It only took a couple of minutes, but after a final grunt by both men, they rose and examined their work. A last-second shake of the structure to verify its sturdiness, and both were satisfied. The taller fellow gave Grimes an OK sign.

  “We’re good, back up and unhook. Great work,” he told the truck’s driver over the CB.

  Although not as tall as it was earlier and a little bent in places, Grimes knew it would do. The antenna was more of a wreck than the tower, having absorbed most of the toppling impact. So it had to be rebuilt using parts they picked up from donations from the townspeople. The rotor was shot and there was no time to find a replacement, so he had the antenna fixed in a north-south position. They’d not be able to receive some of the UHF transmissions from the East Coast and even Florida might be sketchy. But it would have to do for now. He already had some helpers measuring out the copper wire for the forty- and eighty-meter dipole antennas. They’d go up in an hour or two.

  “We’re ready with the coaxial,” a voice said from the other side of the permanently opened window. Its owner handed Grimes the coaxial cable’s end and then fed in another dozen feet before Grimes connected it via a bracket to the window frame. The remainder of the cable looped across the yard to the fifth ring of the tower and then up the middle to the antenna. The previous cable was buried, but damaged. So Grimes thought it better to string up a new cable through the window. He’d weatherize or find a more permanent solution later—if there was a later.

  He stripped off an inch of the outer plastic jacket from the end, pulled the metallic shield back, and slid the connector through. A quick crimp using a wrench and a trim of most of the core wire, and it was ready. “Not perfect, but it will do.” He screwed it to the back of the transceiver and turned the radio on.

  The response was almost instantaneous: jubilant voices jumped out of the speakers.

  Grimes turned up the volume and then added his voice to the chorus of happy expressions, cheering, “We’re up! We’re up!” out the window. Several others outside joined him.

  Then Grimes wondered why the radio’s transmissions sounded so jubilant. What had been going on in the world in the few hours since they’d been down?

  “It’s the gosh-darned US Army. They drove right into our city center and said that the US military is now in charge,” a man with a Californian accent stated triumphantly.

  “They arrived in our town ‘bout an hour ago,” said a thick Louisiana drawl. “They said we were saved. But there’d be a fight coming. So they ask everyone with a gun, who wants to fight des assholes who done this to us to meet in the city hall. In fact, I gotta go. They should be meeting soon.”

  “I think we might actually survive this now,” said the Californian. His voice crackled with emotion.

  “I think you’re right,” said the Louisianan.

  “Thanks for the report, Cajun Shrimper. God bless you.”

  “You got it, Dodgers Fan. Out.”

  “Hey, Dodger’s Fan. This is Don’t Tread on Me in Texas. You still on?” Grimes transmitted, adjusting the dial up a couple of kilohertz to make sure he was on the exact frequency.

  “Sure am, DTM. Texas, you say? That’s a long way. Are you close to the folks at American Freedom Network? They went off the air yesterday.”

  Grimes grinned. “That’s us. Somebody blew up our antenna. We just got her back up and connected.”

  “That’s more good news. Have you heard what’s happening?”

  “I just tuned in. So tell me about the US Army. What’s going on?”

  “Well, several Army trucks just drove right down Broad Street, honking their horns. My son chased them down, listened to their announcement, and ran back to report. Their captain said they came from San Luis and they’re going from town to town to prepare everyone for the coming invasion.”

  “So they’re asking for civilian recruits?” Grimes asked, slurping on a water just handed to him by Aimes, who was now listening attentively.

  “That’s what they made it sound like. They asked for everyone with a weapon to meet right away, just like the Cajun Shrimper said. They plan on giving them some suggestions, and then they’re going to move on to the next town. They’re trying to cover ten towns per day, he said.”

  “Did they say what happened with the res
t of the Army and why they need help?”

  “No, they said they were just warning us and wanted us prepared if the enemy came our way.”

  Grimes scratched his beard and glared at the radio. There was something off about this. For one, he thought it was weird that the US Army would be trying to solicit the help of armed townspeople. Maybe they were depleted more horribly from the gas attacks than he thought.

  “Hey, I probably should get going too. My son and I are excited. It’s kind of like we’re getting drafted. Wish us luck.”

  “Good luck and thanks,” Grimes told him and then sat back. He wondered if this was real and if the US Army would visit Stowell soon.

  ~~~

  Meritville, Alabama

  The rumble of their tires on asphalt shook the glass panes of the houses on either side of the road. It was an olive green parade of US Army trucks. Their horns blared, bringing the anxious faces of the town’s residents to the windows.

  Most of Meritville’s residents had been hiding since the shooting began. It was their town’s protracted version of the Hatfields and McCoys. Only their two warring families were the Merits, who founded the town, and the Boykins, who’d resided there almost as long. The members of these two families had hated each other since the town’s start, long before the world ended. The war just brought the worst of them out. When the Boykins ran out of food yesterday, they attacked the Merits. The fighting started with fists, but then devolved into gunfire. All day long they’d been taking potshots at each other, like some surreal, never-ending Western gunfight.

  When the half dozen US Army trucks drove down Commerce Street, the shooting stopped. As the last truck in the convoy passed a home, its occupants poured out onto the street, cheering, “We’re saved!” or, “Go Army!” It was a time of celebration when there had been nothing to celebrate since the war started.

  Each resident who joined in the cheering had similar thoughts: Is this the end? Will the country go back to normal now? Will we finally be safe?

  The older residents ambled after the trucks. The younger ones ran after them, matching the convoy’s pace easily. All wanted to meet the trucks downtown, where they were headed, and celebrate together.

  Those who were near city hall had taken cover from the gunfire. But when the trucks rolled up and stopped in front of city hall, men slowly rose from their places of protection. Most were tentative in their motions, afraid that someone would shoot at them while they were out in the open. But as the men in US Army uniforms emptied out of their trucks and the cheering crowds swarmed the city center, those worries were cast aside. And everyone forgot their differences for just a moment to join in the celebration.

  An Army captain trotted up the steps of city hall and into the building. Moments later he emerged, stopping at the edge of the top step, above the crowd. He raised his bullhorn and spoke clearly. “Everyone please gather around. I have an announcement.”

  The captain waited, letting the bullhorn drop as more and more people gathered to hear. Their cheering had subsided; all were anxious to hear the news the US Army had for them. Any promise that they were no longer on their own.

  After repeating the announcement twice more, the captain told them his reason for being there.

  “I am Captain John T. Smith with the US Army.” Smith paused to wait for the murmuring to die down.

  “Although we are here now, we need your help. We expect an invasion by the enemy at any time. We are going to go engage them directly, but if they come through this town, we want to make sure you will be ready.”

  The crowd spoke in apprehensive whispers. Their mumbling crescendoed until Smith put his hands up to silence them.

  “Please, may I have your attention?” he hollered.

  They were mostly silent when he continued. “You should be safe, but we want to advise everyone who has a weapon and is able in this town to fight.”

  The crowd reverberated, some saying, “I’ll fight.” A few raised their weapons to show their support.

  “Please,” Smith pleaded again. “We ask that everyone who has a weapon and is able to defend your town, if that’s needed, to please come to this building and meet us inside in thirty minutes. Bring your weapons and your ammo when you do. We will speak to everyone else after this meeting. Thank you.”

  Some of the troops had already made their way up the stairs and now were creating a barrier of soldiers around city hall. Several of them went inside and moved people outside of the building. Those people joined the others crowded around, sharing with each other what they had heard and what they suspected it all meant. Nearly half the crowd began dispersing, anxious to spread the captain’s message to the rest of the town who hadn’t heard.

  Within twenty minutes, every resident of Meritville knew about the US Army presence. And everyone celebrated. Supplies of alcohol and food, intended to be made to last as long as possible, were pulled out from storage, passed around and consumed. Many no longer worried about tomorrow’s supplies, as they assumed the US Army was a portent to the country returning to the days of grocery aisles flowing with overabundance. Those who worried only did so because they planned to participate in the Army’s call for men with guns.

  No one in Merit concerned themselves with what would happen after this.

  Certainly nobody doubted whether this Army was the genuine article.

  Chapter 28

  Endurance, Florida

  Peter

  He drove the truck up to the two guards who had been given instructions to shoot anyone coming to this gate.

  Peter stuck his head and arm out the window, offering a slight wave. The guard who had the crosshairs of his weapon trained on Peter let it drop. The other guard pushed open the gate, allowing him to pass. From the side mirror, Peter could see the guards paid no further attention to him. They closed the gate and returned to watching for the next threat.

  Peter squeaked to a stop in front of a US Army truck backed up to a fenced-off area near the number four warehouse. He fought the urge to rub his eyes in disbelief. What was a US Army truck doing here? Did that mean that Cain had been caught? Or was it more likely that the Army found out about the weapons that Jonah had stolen from the base and they were here to reclaim them?

  As if to confirm this theory, he watched men wearing US Army uniforms carry crates from a fenced area shaded by three haphazard canopies and load them into the Army truck parked in front of him. Directing this odd show was a skinny man with a long goatee.

  Peter got out, slammed his door in anger at this development, and marched over to Cain. Keeping his voice low and directed he asked, “What’s going on?” Peter figured that Cain had been compelled by the Army to hand over the stolen weapons in exchange for not getting arrested. He expected a muffled retort like “Yeah, I had no choice, man.”

  Cain smiled at Peter and said, “They didn’t want to wait. Guess they needed them now.”

  Peter shot this funny little man a questioning WTF glance before asking another question under his breath. “So you knew they were going to come here directly?”

  “Yeah, once I told them about the stash of weapons that Jonah had taken from the Army up north, they insisted on coming down themselves.”

  Peter was getting angrier now. “Why in the hell did you have me risk getting caught with one of Jonah’s trucks and drive it all the way here if you didn’t need me to?” he huffed, still trying to keep his voice down so that the grunts from the Army didn’t hear their conversation.

  “Oh, no worries, man, Jonah’s been cut off from most of his men. As you told me, he’s probably in hiding right now. Even if he saw you, he couldn’t have done anything.”

  He was right about that. “But we haven’t found him or the missing guns yet.”

  “Yeah, but I know you and the men will.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Still, you could have called me. You know, let your partner in crime know about this development.”

  “Yeah, well, I was a littl
e busy, you know.” He threw a condescending glance at Peter, reminding him why he didn’t like this boy.

  He calmly reminded himself that Cain was a means to an end. He didn’t have to like the kid. He only had to pacify the little shit to get what he wanted. And in spite of the kid’s annoying persona, he was performing up to task. And Cain had been straight with him ever since he first disclosed his plans to stab his papa in the back.

  It was far better treatment than he had received from his now former employer. When Peter had learned about the weapons and supplies Jonah had recovered from the Army base, he was shocked that Jonah hadn’t told him about it. Instead he was made to play babysitter to the Smith kids and a few of the injured. Cain might have been far from perfect, but he was doing what he said and always gave Peter the respect he deserved.

  Peter watched the men work to load the last few boxes of weapons. “You still haven’t told me how the US Army found out about the guns.”

  Cain thought about the question for a moment and then chortled, his head nodding like he just got the big joke. He slapped Peter on the back and said, “That ain’t the US Army.”

  ~~~

  Jonah

  Jonah Price had his head down when he marched into the Endurance Health Center.

  “Dr. Scott?” he asked the volunteer—he thought they seemed to get older each time he entered—but he didn’t wait for an answer and walked around the corner to Emily’s office. He expected to find her reading about some ailment or treating a patient, as she seemed to do day and night. Instead she was sound asleep on her couch, at peace.

  He hesitated over her, not wanting to wake her. She obviously needed her sleep. But he wanted to know where his son was. He wanted to strangle that illegitimate little shit for pitting half of his men against him and for making a play for what wasn’t his, and all while their town of Endurance was in jeopardy. But more importantly, he needed to find the two men from the Army base, and Lexi and Frank. He couldn’t do what he planned without their help. He reached out to touch her shoulder, to jiggle her just a little. But he couldn’t.