Living for War: The Collin War Chronicles

by W. C. Hoffman

  Collin pointed at Wilson and motioned for them to move on the barn. Wilson nodded and motioned for his team to follow. They walked quickly down the sidewalk, hunched over, then turned up the driveway, rifles at the ready.

  In the front yard, Collin eyed the fruit trees and the cedar bush where Mac had shown himself earlier. But he didn’t stay focused there. Emerging from the bush may have been a ruse to direct Collin’s attention that way. Not that Mac knew he’d be coming ... right? Collin felt a seed of doubt tremble in his gut.

  A flash of light startled Collin and team one. They raised their rifles ready for action, but nothing happened. Suddenly the street lights had flashed on.

  Collin moved to the edge of the driveway and saw Wilson’s team taking up position on the barn. He edged back and stopped beside Specialist Tanner.

  “Here we go,” he whispered.

  Tanner nodded.

  Collin led them up the walkway to the front porch. As each of them entered the property, the streetlight flickered as they crossed the line.

  Goddamn it! Must be his security system.

  There was still no sound or movement inside the house.

  Team one stacked on the door. Collin walked up and tested the door handle. Locked.

  Specialist Tanner was at the corner of the porch watching the side of the house, but primarily keeping tabs on team two at the barn. He motioned for Collin to come over.

  “Look,” Tanner said in a whisper, pointing at the barn.

  “What?” Collin couldn’t see anything that stood out. He kept looking, then he saw something above the barn door, pointed out toward the street.

  Redneck alarm.

  Collin whirled around and looked toward the fence that ran along the sidewalk and saw the same thing that was mounted to the barn. Motion detectors.

  Mentally cursing himself for being so foolish, he motioned for them to breach the door. Specialist Tanner clicked on his flashlight quickly, just once, to let Sergeant Wilson know it was go time.

  Private Park kicked the door, but it held sturdy. So, Collin joined her in kicking the door in.

  “One, two ...” he counted.

  They smashed the door open on three. Collin rushed in with the momentum of his kick. In a snap, the rest of the team filed inside, covering their sectors of fire.

  Collin stayed in the front room, covering the staircase as the rest of the team cleared the house. In less than a minute, Specialist Tanner was back.

  “All clear, sir.”

  “Upstairs.” Collin pointed. “Follow me.”

  Thus far, everything was dark. But as Collin reached the top of the stairs a faint glow emanated from the seams of one door. Collin stopped at the top of the stairs, taking cover around the corner and motioned for the rest of the team to clear the other rooms.

  While his team cleared the floor, a sense of loneliness seeped in. The door he was covering at the far end of the hall was legitimately creepy, like every cheesy horror movie he’d ever seen. Collin glanced around but there was nothing, no movement, no sound other than his Eagles.

  Where are you Mac? he thought, shaking off the distractions. He felt they should have seen something by now.

  A click. The lights in the room turned off. Team one returned to the hall. They stacked up and began to move slowly toward the creepy door.

  Collin took point and moved forward; he heard his team follow. Taking a deep breath and hopefully not his last, Collin reached down to test the door handle. It was unlocked.

  Opening the door, Collin rushed in searching in the darkness for his prey. But the room was empty. Suddenly, the light clicked on again, blinding everyone. A giant spotlight sat in the corner of the room, pointing at an angle across the bed.

  Another trick! Collin cursed himself again. Through the bedroom’s window, he noticed the streetlight was on too. They must be connected.

  “Go, go, go,” Collin ordered, motioning toward the door. “Get to the barn.”

  An explosion rocked the house, rattling the walls and making the floor tremble beneath their feet. Glass shattered somewhere in the house.

  His soldiers were crouched, but there was no more danger.

  “Go, goddamn it!” Collin shouted.

  Shots cracked through the air, making the younger Eagles flinch. They’d only been on the team since the Eagle’s Bar attack, so they had yet to see real action.

  Collin bounded down the staircase with his rifle slung and his pistol in hand. He was moving far too quickly to make the rifle practical inside. Someone screamed.

  Just as Collin emerged from the back door and began running toward the barn, another smaller explosion flashed brightly in the dark. A fireball billowed out from the barn and curled into the night sky. Pieces of wood spun and littered the ground.

  At least one soldier was lying on the ground near where the barn’s front door had been. Another was smoldering about twenty feet away, obviously thrown by the blast.

  But Collin didn’t stop. There would be time to try and save lives later, right now was about eliminating the threat, the threat to Goshen as a whole. He kept running toward the barn, even as bullets began to whiz through the air around him. He knew he was safe. It wasn’t until the rounds began to make a cracking sound, indicating their close proximity, that he’d have to worry.

  Just inside the barn was Sergeant Wilson with an arrow protruding from his eye socket. One Eagle was behind a big fifty-five gallon barrel, engaged in a firefight with someone at the other end of the barn. Collin took a knee and let out a breath as he aimed and squeezed off a round. The person firing at his Eagle jerked and slumped to the floor.

  The Eagle turned, saw Collin, and nodded his thanks. Behind Collin, the rest of team one fanned out, clearing the rest of the barn.

  “Follow me, soldier,” Collin said, leading the way through the barn. He scanned the loft overhead, saw nothing, and kept going. An interior wall blocked the main part of the barn from the rear area that served as a boathouse. He tried to push the door open, but it caught on something.

  Just then, he heard an engine fire up.

  “Unload on that boat!” Collin shouted.

  “Yes, sir!”

  Together they shoved open the door. Collin rushed inside, running along the dock firing with his pistol until it was empty. The Private behind him did as ordered. Sparks shot up on occasion when the small boat was hit.

  Click, click, click.

  Empty mag. Switch. He holstered the pistol and swiveled the rifle up to his shoulder. Collin took a knee again and rhythmically unloaded thirty rounds into the boat. A shout echoed across the water accompanied by a splash as a body fell overboard. The boat slowed but continued on, disappearing from view into the inky night.

  “It can’t go far, sir,” Specialist Tanner said. “The Little Goshen feeds into the big one, but it’s blocked by the wall we built. There’s a metal gate that blocks off anyone trying to swim underwater, too. Koby designed it, so it will definitely stop a boat.”

  “Good. Check on team two. We have casualties. I want two guys to clear the barn with me.” Collin slowed his breathing, took in deeper breaths, and surveyed the scene. He couldn’t play it up; it was a fucking shit show. Almost half of his assault team down and no Mac.

  Lights snapped to life and buzzed overhead. The main barn was filled with all sorts of brewing equipment and supplies, like wheat and fermenting fruit. Together with the burning wood and flesh of his Eagles, the air was putrid.

  Collin held a hand over his nose and mouth. He checked on the injured. There was only one minor injury, splinters from the explosions, but there were four dead. One of those was Sergeant Wilson, a good soldier. He shook his head as emotions boiled inside of him.

  Two Eagles started up the ladder to the loft. When the first one reached the top, he began yelling at someone to “get the fuck down.” Collin raised his rifle and aimed through the floor in the direction he was yelling, knowing his rounds would easily penetrate the floorboards.


  Collin walked slowly toward the ladder, giving him a better angle on the loft. When the soldier looked down, he noticed it was Private Slade.

  “Holy shit, General,” a wide-eyed Slade said. “You have got to see this!”

  CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN

  “Stay there, Private. I’m coming up,” Collin said, looking concerned.

  “Yes, sir,” Privte Slade said nervously, still holding a mystery subject at gun point.

  The thick wood rungs of the ladder felt smooth in Collin’s hands, worn from everyday use. A heavy odor of fuel hung in the air, which concerned him. But it was also validating, because it suggested something other than brewing was going on.

  As soon as his head came over the edge of the loft, Collin realized why Slade had been so agitated. A girl was lying naked in a fetal position with her hands tied and a gag in her mouth.

  “Damn it, Private. Stop staring and get me something to cover her with,” Collin snapped.

  “Ye-yes, sir,” Private Slade stammered, awkwardly averting his gaze as he sought to carry out the order.

  Collin glanced around quickly, looking for any threats. There weren’t any, but a shit ton of evidence against Mac. On top of several long tables sat a variety of parts, fuel, and packages of chemicals. All the makings of homemade explosives like the one that crippled Koby.

  He looked back at the girl, who was watching him skeptically.

  “It’s okay, miss. I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Collin,” he said. “We’re here to help.”

  Moving slowly so she could see what he was doing, Collin pulled out his knife. The blade snapped open with a loud click. The girl began groaning and inching away from him.

  “Hold still. I’ll cut you free.”

  She pulled herself up into a sitting position, making a loud noise and glancing at the floor in front of him. One of her fingers pointed repeatedly.

  Collin froze and looked around. He was about to start forward again when he saw it.

  Not two feet in front of him was a trip wire, possibly fishing line, probably attached to another bomb like the one downstairs. Collin stood in place and looked all around him to make sure it was the only one. Satisfied there was only one trip wire, he knelt to inspect it closer.

  The line led under one of the tables to three big five-gallon gas canisters, military-style but green plastic rather than metal.

  Same shit I found melted in the hospital, Collin thought. Gotcha bastard!

  One can had a firing device inserted into the top with duct tape wrapped around the outside, with abnormal bumps, suggesting that whoever made the improvised explosive had taped shrapnel to it for added effect.

  Collin motioned for the girl to hold still. If she moved too much, she could kick the line on accident. It was amazing Private Slade hadn’t set the damn trap off. Additionally, had Collin needed to provide fire support by shooting through the floorboards, they could all be dead.

  Looking on the tables, Collin found what he was searching for. He picked up the small metal pin and leaned down carefully to inspect the firing device on the gas can. Thankfully, there was only one firing device for the booby trap. Ever so gently, Collin replaced the safety pin and carefully removed the blasting cap from the top of the fuel-filled gas can.

  After setting the device gingerly on the floor so as not to agitate the blasting cap, Collin proceeded to cut the trip wire with his knife and then moved the gas can. He picked up the firing device and set it against the wall, out of the way.

  “Thanks for the heads up,” he said. “That was too close for comfort.”

  Looking at the girl, he realized what a dumb thing that was to say. She was totally uncomfortable and he didn’t want to imagine what Mac and his buddies had done to her.

  “Okay, hold still.”

  She winced when he got too close.

  Careful not to nick her skin, he slid the blade in between the coiled rope that held her to a support beam. A few quick sawing motions and her hands were free, if bruised. Her body was also bruised. Notably her face, arms, and thighs.

  Collin balked and looked away. He hated to see abused women. Rage coiled inside of him like serpents. When he got his hands on Mac ...

  Private Slade clambered back up to the loft with a horse blanket in hand. “Sorry, sir. It’s all I could find,” he said. The young man looked ashamed.

  “Thank you, Private.” Collin took the blanket and smirked as Slade quickly climbed back down. Reaching out with one hand, he offered the blanket to the woman. She untied the gag from her mouth and began rubbing her tender wrists.

  “Th-thank ... you ...” she said with a croak, like she hadn’t had water in ages.

  Collin nodded and offered up his canteen. Her eyes grew and she snatched it away, gulping the cool water greedily.

  “Careful. You don’t want to make yourself sick,” Collin said.

  Wiping water from her chin, the young woman adjusted the blanket to cover herself better. “Where –” She cleared her throat. “Where is Ketan?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know who or where Ketan is.” Collin looked around, wondering how he could have missed another person. The loft was mostly open, although a section at the end was walled off.

  “He was ... he was gone when I woke up,” she said.

  “What’s your name?” Collin asked softly.

  “Hannah.”

  “Okay, Hannah. You wait here. I’m going to go over there and check for Ketan. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Hannah nodded obediently.

  Collin smiled at her, but it must have looked sad because she looked away. He couldn’t believe people could treat another person like that. Apparently the apocalypse hadn’t cleaned out all the freaks.

  “Hannah, are there any more surprises up here I should know about?”

  She shook her head and pulled the blanket tightly around her.

  Pulling out his pistol again, Collin switched to a full magazine as he stalked toward the far end of the loft. The floor creaked softly under his boots. Some of the straw Hannah had for a bed was spread throughout the loft, and the odors from below wafted up through the seams between the boards. Not the kind of place you’d want to hang out.

  Collin watched carefully for any trip wires. Something may have been installed when Hannah was asleep or not paying attention. When he reached the wall, Collin crouched down and listened. He heard faint breathing, slow, steady, and relaxed. There was no movement.

  Rushing around the wall with his pistol raised, Collin saw only one person. Like Hannah, Ketan was nude and tied to a beam on the wall. Except Ketan either passed out or was knocked out. The young man’s body was crisscrossed with bruises, bright red welts, and a mat of older looking marks.

  How long were they up here? Collin felt disgusted and once again wished he had simply killed Mac.

  In the far corner, Collin noticed a pair of backpacks and pile of clothing. After cutting down Ketan, who remained unconscious, Collin picked up the clothing. He tossed the shorts and t-shirt next to the man and walked back to Hannah with the rest.

  Hannah hadn’t moved an inch since he left. But she turned her head when she heard Collin approach. Tears glimmered in her golden-brown eyes.

  “Is he ...”

  “He’s alive, but passed out,” Collin said, handing her the clothes. “Please get dressed and go downstairs. I’ll get Ketan and come down. You and I have a lot to discuss.”

  Hannah nodded and said, “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” Collin said before walking back to Ketan.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The raid on Mac’s house certainly hadn’t been a success, but it wasn’t a total failure either.

  Their team had suffered hefty losses, leaving Collin with a heavy heart and more than an ounce of self-doubt. But they had rescued two young people who had clearly suffered terribly and found evidence of Mac’s involvement in crippling Koby, guaranteeing Mac’s demise. Collin wouldn’t let these crimes go unpunis
hed.

  Townsfolk stood in the driveway and along the sidewalk, watching. They parted as two injured Eagles rode to the hospital in the back of a horse cart.

  Loading the last body into a separate horse cart, Collin wiped sweat off of his forehead. Four deceased Eagles lay there still and silent, with horrific injuries. Specialist Tanner draped a sheet they’d taken from the house to cover the soldiers. No reason to traumatize the townsfolk who had been awake and afraid for hours since the shooting and explosions began.

  “I’ve got this, sir,” Tanner said.

  Collin considered sending another Eagle with him, but they were already stretched thin.

  “Okay, keep your head on a swivel. We don’t know what Mac and his crew –”

  “Copy that,” Specialist Tanner said, cutting him off. “Sorry, sir. I just ... I get you, sir.”

  “Very well. Carry on.”

  Specialist Tanner led the cart away through the crowd, his head slightly bowed in grief at the loss of his friends.

  Collin turned away and strode toward the house, glancing over his shoulder briefly at the barn. The guys inside were still working to pack everything up and get it stacked in front of the barn. The barn’s contents now belonged to the Goshen Eagles as far as Collin was concerned. A seizure that did not come even close to what it cost them in lives to obtain.

  Hannah and Ketan were inside the house resting. Neither of them was in great physical shape after their ordeal. Ketan had been carried inside, but he’d come to after one of the combat medics used smelling salts to shock him awake.

  Both of them sat at a small table in the kitchen holding hands. They were on the same side of the table. Hannah rested her head on Ketan’s shoulder.

  Collin entered the kitchen and smiled at them.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  “No, please,” Ketan said gesturing at a chair opposite the two of them. “Thank you for helping us.”

  “We certainly weren’t expecting to find you, but you’re welcome. I won’t stand for people being treated that way in Goshen,” Collin said, his face briefly hardening at the thought of what Mac had done to them. He pulled out the chair to sit down, fighting the urge to fling the chair in anger at letting Mac slip by him.