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

by ML Banner

  Several heads popped up above the roof’s lip, and Aimes forced them down with cover fire. Then the side door they were going to try to enter popped open, and two soldiers stuck their rifles out and fired blindly. But the message was clear; they’d be sitting ducks in that location. “Retreat!” Aimes yelled at his men as he replaced his magazine, fired at the doorway, and then ran after them.

  A barrage of bullets zinged around them. They were only a few more strides from turning down the street and behind the cover of trees when Pete, a young man who fought so well against the crazies yesterday, fell. Aimes stopped, turned and fired back at the roof and the doorway, but was pounded in his leg, which exploded in pain. He ignored it, slung his weapon, and grabbed Pete by the arms.

  The young man’s eyes found his as he dragged him the last twenty yards to safety. Aimes had watched men die in battle, and usually just before their time, their eyes were wide with fear. Pete’s gaze was different, which he would almost expect from this young man who followed orders without question and learned so quickly. His eyes seemed at peace. “They got me, didn’t they, Sergeant?” he yelled above the gunfire sounds surrounding them. Aimes glanced at the bright red circle now covering Pete’s entire chest and then back behind him to find the road.

  “You’ll be all right, son. You’re too damn good of a soldier to …” Aimes didn’t finish because the young man’s eyes were already closed. He had a slight smile on his face.

  His feet touched the road, and he ran back up in that direction when he felt a blow to his arm and then one more to his head.

  The road came fast and greeted his face with brutality. Before the world went black, Aimes thought of Pete’s peaceful smile.

  Chapter 34

  Endurance, Florida

  Lexi

  Lexi worked at the screw. When it came undone, she knew she had found her ticket to freedom.

  The other women who shared this room—their mock-up jail cell—watched Lexi attentively, wondering what she was doing. She didn’t say, only telling them to be ready when she “executed her escape plan.”

  After removing the armrest from the office chair, now repurposed into a club, Lexi drew their attention to her. She whispered, “I need help lifting a desk, not dragging it, to just before the door. It will take maybe six of us, I think. But we have to be quiet for this to work.” Several of the women nodded their approval, so Lexi rose and found the closest desk and waited for their help.

  She motioned for them to hurry, and five of the women stepped quickly over as Lexi pointed one to each of the four corners and the middle opposite her.

  Lexi mouthed one, two, three, and they lifted. It was a Steelcase and it was heavy. “My way,” she grunted, leading them to within a foot of the door.

  They tried to let it down gently, a couple of the women fighting furiously with the weight, expelling grunts. Sheila, who held the far corner, let her end slip and it crashed hard.

  “Shit. Sorry,” she whispered.

  They waited and listened for movement beyond the door. There was nothing.

  “Okay, I need to get set up,” Lexi told them.

  She pointed them to the other end of the room, and she went to work on her paracord bracelet. She unraveled the smaller inner white ropes, and then using a sharp edge from a piece of metal in the desk, she cut it. She tied one end of the thin white line to the desk leg, moving it up a foot high and then she walked over to the other side, with her club held taut in her hand. She looked at the group to see if they knew what she was doing. There were a few nods, but she had forgotten the most important part.

  Lexi scurried over to the group and whispered her plea. “I need bait now. Someone who doesn’t mind being attractive to the guard.”

  “Honey, I got this. I’ll use the same technique I used on my husband twenty years ago.”

  Lexi had heard enough and trotted back to the door, pulling the line tight with both hands. She nodded to Sheila.

  Because of what the woman did next, Lexi thought Sheila could definitely have made a career out of acting, at least in B movies. She grabbed one of the office chairs and rolled it to the middle of the room and then kicked it hard. It banged against the other desks and a stack of chairs against the same wall they had pulled the desk from. The chair bounced off and fell over with a large clatter, but the stack of chairs wobbled one way, then the other, and came crashing down, just missing Emily, who had to jump out of the way. The noise was near deafening.

  Sheila took a position on the floor and then ripped the front of her blouse, exposing an ample amount of her healthy chest. “Ow! Shit, my leg’s broken. Please, won’t you help me?” she wailed.

  There was movement behind the door, and then a guard yanked it open, his gun pointed inside. There was no question to the women who watched him enter that he was angry for having to deal with them. He then saw Sheila lying on the floor, a pile of chairs toppled over, a couple of women attending to her. Then his eyes found Sheila’s target. Drawn to this vision, the guard stepped forward.

  Lexi couldn’t see any part of the guard as she tried to press herself against the wall and out of his vision. She could only follow the eyes of the women around Sheila as they reflected their mutual feelings of shock, then horror and then panic. Sheila never broke form until the guard moved, and then Lexi saw his foot cross the threshold, immediately snagging her line. She dug a boot into the doorframe and yanked back with all her strength, propelling him to the floor.

  Like a jackrabbit, Lexi let go, grabbed her armrest-club and leapt at the guard. She swung at the man’s head, but instead caught him in the larynx. He clutched his throat, convulsed in a long gasp, and painfully attempted to draw in a weak, raspy breath not once but twice.

  Sheila sprang up too. She had her own target in mind. Walking around the flailing guard, she kicked with all her might, connecting directly with the man’s groin. He groaned and balled up. But he also whined.

  He’s making way too much noise, Lexi thought.

  She grabbed his rifle and commanded the women, “Get out of the way.” Mid-scurry, Lexi flipped the rifle around so that she was holding the barrel. Then she swung in a long arc, using the heft of the gun to do her work. It connected with a thunk to the back of the man’s head. He grunted no more.

  There was a commotion outside as one of the other guards stepped to their door. His shadow entered the doorway and then stopped, silent. Lexi swung the gun back around, pulled the charging handle back, aimed at the empty doorway, and waited.

  Another shadow crept up from behind and joined the first—she didn’t hear any footsteps on the hard floor. Then the second shadow moved and merged with the first. There was a muffled grunt and the first shadow folded onto the floor. The second shadow remained outside the doorway opening. “Ladies, are you alright?” it asked.

  Lexi recognized the voice, but demanded anyway, “State your name.”

  “Sergeant Reynolds, ma’am, and I have PFC O’Malley with me as well. I would ask that you don’t shoot.” Reynolds appeared in the doorway, a splatter of blood on his face.

  “Howdy,” said O'Malley, filling up the rest of the doorway.

  They casually glanced at the crumpled body on the floor. Lexi was crouched beside him with the guard’s gun pointed their way.

  “Guess they didn’t really need us, Sarge,” O’Malley stated with a snicker.

  “Miss Broadmoor,” Reynolds said, “so glad to see you and the other women are safe, but we really need to get going.”

  “Don’t need to say it twice. Come on, everyone. I think we’re free.” Lexi breathed with a heavy sigh.

  “Well, not quite. We have a few more guards to get through. I don’t think with all of you, we’ll be able to be as stealthy as the sergeant and me,” O’Malley thought out loud.

  “Who else has used and is comfortable shooting a gun?” Reynolds asked. “We have these two rifles from the guards we’ve taken out.”

  “I’ll take one, if you don’t min
d.” Sheila rose from the floor and repositioned her shirt. “My husband took me out a few times to the firing range.” She walked over to O’Malley and snatched one of the two AKs he held out. She smiled at him and winked. “You’re just as cute with your clothes on, Private.”

  Lexi could have sworn the private blushed, if only just a little.

  “I’ll take the other,” Emily announced. “I can shoot.”

  “What about that Hippocratic oath, Doc?” Reynolds asked.

  “It doesn’t apply to these animals.” She pulled back the charging handle. “Ready?”

  Reynolds turned to O’Malley. “Okay, you heard the ladies.”

  Lexi, Sheila, and Emily followed the two soldiers out of their prison cell to the exit door, which led out the side of the building. The others shuffled up behind them.

  Reynolds whispered, “All right, the private will lead you outside and to the back of the property. There’s an alley about one hundred yards away. That alley leads to a storefront. If we get split up, we’ll meet at the back of that store. I’ll bring up the rear with one of you ladies who have a rifle,” he said, motioning to the three armed women.

  “Please don’t look at me,” Sheila said. “I’d prefer sticking close to the front of the line.”

  “I’ve got your back, Sergeant,” Lexi said.

  O’Malley cracked the door open, scanning in all directions, and then lightly shut it. To the group he said, “All right, since Ms. Thompson volunteered, she and I will go through the door first and protect the doorway. Then one at a time, I want you to run when I tell you and wait at the alley entrance. Dr. Scott, would you go first and then when you’re set up at the alley entrance, shoot anyone who comes our way?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Okay, go!”

  ~~~

  Emily

  Dr. Emily Scott, the head physician at the Endurance Health Center, held her gun at the ready and sprang out the door, dashing the hundred yards to the alley behind the city hall. She didn’t look back the entire time until she was at the alley’s entrance. Then she spun around, dropped painfully onto her knees, and aimed her rifle toward an opening between city hall and Endurance Water and Sewer, past PFC O’Malley and Sheila Thompson.

  The private waved to the next woman, who ran toward Emily, who signaled her with her hand.

  When the third woman leapt out the door and started her run toward Emily, a man wearing Islamic robes peeked around the front corner of city hall. The private got him with one loud booming shot.

  That was when the proverbial shit hit the fan.

  PFC O’Malley signaled wildly, and all the women poured out the door, sprinting the long one hundred yards to Emily and their freedom.

  At the same time two streams of Islamic soldiers—Emily couldn’t think of what else to call them—rolled around the two corners of city hall in their direction.

  Emily took aim at the lead soldier coming around the back corner, hoping the sergeant and Sheila would be able to engage those coming around the front to the side.

  A collage of thoughts momentarily raced through her mind: she’d never shot anyone, much less pointed a gun at a person; when she volunteered to take a rifle, she wasn’t sure she could do it; she had just figured she was the best person for the job.

  But then just as quickly she looked at this like a surgery, stripping all emotions from the decision to act. She needed to do her job right now to save these women.

  The lead man in Emily’s sights took a shot in the women’s direction. Emily squeezed the trigger.

  The rifle seemed to explode with a long rapid succession of bangs while at the same time rearing her rifle barrel up to the sky. She let go of the trigger, and it stopped its bucking. She knew instantly it was set on automatic fire. Examining the selector switch, which was in Russian, she saw that it was down midway. Thinking that up was probably “safe,” she pushed the switch down all the way, hoping that was semi-auto. She also wondered how many bullets she had left after firing off so many. She’d been told it held thirty. She hoped she had at least half of her ammo left.

  She glanced back and caught O’Malley leading four of the women to the north, along the back of the Water and Sewer building. The women dashed ahead, and he followed, but turned around frequently to take an occasional shot.

  A ping passed right above Emily’s head; a sign beside her wobbled and shook. They were shooting at her now.

  She aimed again at the soldier firing at her, this time squeezing the trigger and letting go, then squeezing again, firing off one shot at a time.

  She watched the enemy drop.

  A man was running in her direction, firing off bursts at her.

  Only three women reached her; the others held back as this crazed man screamed a fusillade of Arabic her way. He seemed set on getting her. Each time she attempted to pull up and take a shot, the man fired multiple rounds in her direction. She’d get a shot off, but she missed him each time, as he did her.

  When the man was almost upon her, she had had enough. She quickly rose and steadied her rifle, aiming carefully. The man fired another burst of bullets, but she ignored this—like the others, his shots never came close. She squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened.

  She was empty.

  She was about to turn and flee down the alley when the man’s head rocketed to the side and he fell to the ground hard maybe twenty feet from her. Emily looked for the shooter and saw that it was Lexi.

  When she gave Emily the thumbs-up, Emily saw a flood of men come out of the same exit they had used. Their exit appeared to be a surprise to Lexi, Sheila, and the sergeant. Emily could hear the hollering for them to drop their weapons. They were caught.

  “Come on,” Emily said to the three women. “Let’s go. We can’t help them if we get caught too.” They raced down the alley and out of sight.

  ~~~

  Lexi

  When she lowered her weapon to the ground, she felt like she was committing suicide. She wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to just turn and fire: she’d get one or two of them before they got her.

  At least we got some of these pricks, she thought quietly.

  Before being tugged inside, Lexi glanced at Emily and three others in the distance, running down the alley. When she blinked, they were out of sight, but she also saw the carnage. At least three of the women had been killed, but so had several of their soldiers. When someone yanked her through the doorway, Lexi was shocked to see Reynolds was shot. He was holding his gut. When she glanced up to his face, he smiled at her, acting as if it didn’t hurt. But she knew it must have. She’d read gut wounds were the most painful.

  O’Malley escaped. Last she saw, he had taken several of the women in another direction. She hoped they all made it.

  They were roughly ushered back to their prison room, the same furniture storage area they were in before. This time they were commanded to sit on the floor and each had their hands bound behind them with zip ties. Then each had a hood placed over their heads.

  As the hood covered Lexi’s head, she could no longer hold off her emotions. The adrenaline had worn off; she knew there was no getting out of this one. She started to sob.

  Chapter 35

  Stowell, Texas

  Grimes

  Grimes couldn’t stand not being in the fight.

  He had made the announcement several times now, his attempt to warn the world about the terrorists’ invasion plan. But when he heard the gunfire outside, he couldn’t wait any longer. He was a soldier and not a radioman.

  He grabbed a tactical vest, his sniper rifle, an AK and hobbled out his door while he attempted to dress for battle. He probably looked ridiculous, hopping and moving weapons around as he attempted not to fall on his face while racing down his street to the fighting a couple of blocks away. He didn’t care. His pulse quickened and he mentally prepared as he approached the Saw Buck Store.

  Aimes had told him his basic plan of directing their fire to all the
openings in front and back, but they would gain entry from the two opposite side entrances and fight them head-on inside the building.

  When Grimes came to the first drive entrance from the street, he could see the enemy firing from the side entrances and the roof. It looked like they wouldn’t be able to do what Aimes had said.

  One of their militia ran over to him. He was frantic and had a splatter of blood on his shirt and hands. “Sir, what should we do now?” he begged.

  “Where’s Gunny Sergeant?”

  The man looked down and then back up. “Ah, he’s been shot.”

  “Shit, is he all right?”

  “Don’t know, but he was shot in the head.” The man looked at the blood on his hands.

  “Son, help me to the command center.” Grimes hoped Aimes had told the rest of their militia about their command center.

  The young man nodded and took a shoulder, helping him hop a little more quickly to the Texas Mini Mart on the other side of the street.

  Just before they entered, a loud horn honked, and all heads turned to see a yellow fire truck roaring down the road, approaching the Saw Buck Store. Driving it was Hunter Thompson, who hooted and hollered out his window. Hunter’s yellow fire truck was known everywhere in these parts, leading their Independence Day parade every year since he’d bought it twenty years ago. This year he’d announced that it wouldn’t work and he was tired of fixing it. He must have gotten it fixed.

  Grimes could see the fire truck was already attracting a lot of gunfire as it rolled through the intersection and into the store’s parking lot.