by Bobby Akart
“A sign of a severe concussion is repeated vomiting,” said Dr. Fulcher. “We don’t want her to choke.”
“Aren’t you going to try to wake her up?” asked Beau.
“Not right away,” replied the doctor. “She’s stable and breathing steadily. There aren’t signs of a severe concussion, and although she is knocked out, she’s not exhibiting signs of being comatose just yet. Let’s watch her and set up an IV to get some fluids in her.”
“I’ll take care of it, Doctor,” said the nurse.
Dr. Fulcher took Beau by the arm and walked him into the hallway. “Son, this is very dangerous for both of us. Sheriff Durham has been strict about the patient-admission process. In a way, he picks who gets treated based upon the patient’s perceived worth to the community. Every patient gets screened by his men.”
“Doc, I know. Your nurse told me. Here’s the thing. I ran over his man in the parking lot. He’s bound and gagged out there between two cars.”
Dr. Fulcher started walking toward the exit doors. “We have to help him.”
Beau ran and grabbed the doctor forcibly by the arm. “No, Doc, we don’t,” said Beau, holding up the AR-15. “He fired this weapon at us without a hint that that there was some sort of admission process. I defended myself by running over him. Listen, that man and the rest of the Durhams’ people are like a disease infecting our town. They kill people, steal their belongings, and force our women to do unspeakable things. My friend was going to become one of their victims tonight until we saved her. That piece of crap lying in the parking lot does not deserve your attention. Alex does.”
The doctor studied seventeen-year-old Beau Carey. Then he smiled and nodded. “You’re right, son. It’s time we get our priorities straight around here. But be mindful, it’s only a matter of time before our quiet little hospital gets busy. I heard the explosions and gunfire. All heck is breaking loose out there, and you’re just the first of many visitors tonight. This will include, I suspect, casualties from Junior’s men as well.”
“Yes, sir,” said Beau, who was about to suggest he stand guard when the nurse called for them.
“She’s waking up, Doctor!”
Chapter 3
1:11 a.m., November 2
Savannah
“Come on, Dad,” encouraged Chase. “You’ve got to keep up.”
Jake’s chest was heaving as he jogged twenty yards behind Colton, Chase, and Coach Carey. He cursed himself with every step for not staying in some semblance of shape. Jake was a tall man, so he carried his weight well, as they say. But at two hundred sixty pounds, his hefty frame was wearing on his stamina. Twice he was forced to stop and catch his breath.
As Junior’s men swarmed the area like hornets, the four men found themselves without transportation. When they saw Beau racing across the grounds at Cherry Mansion, carrying Alex, they assumed he was headed toward the Chevy, which had been hidden in the adjoining neighborhood. After they arrived at the rendezvous point and found the vehicle missing, their concerns grew for the safety of both teens.
“What should we do?” asked Colton, who was short of breath as well. Only the younger Chase and the athletic Coach Carey seemed to breathe easily. Jake caught up and joined the group, who tucked themselves inside a fenced backyard.
“I never anticipated losing our transportation,” started Coach Carey. “We’ve got to get across town somehow and through a swarm of Junior’s men.”
Colton’s eyes darted, searching for clues in the darkness. He was starting to panic and Coach Carey tried to calm the frightened father.
“Listen, Beau must have had good reason to take it without us,” said Coach Carey.
“He was carrying Alex,” said Chase. “I hope she’s not hurt.”
Colton remained silent as all eyes fell on him. Coach Carey patted him on the back.
“This is not the time to worry or panic,” said Coach Carey. “Beau knows what to do. He’ll get her help, or he’ll meet us back at the house.”
Jake lumbered through the fence gate and collapsed onto the cold, dewy lawn. “What’s plan B?”
“We need transportation,” replied Colton. “We’ve got to find Alex and then get out of town somehow. Junior’s men will be scouring the banks, looking for our boat after we sent those two roaring by Cherry Mansion.”
“Junior has a motor pool about three blocks from here,” said Coach Carey. “It’s surrounded by a fence with razor wire. It usually has a couple of guards stationed there but maybe not tonight. It’s worth a try.”
A car roared down the street across the way, causing everyone to join Jake on the ground.
“Maybe they’re preoccupied,” said Colton. “Let’s go for it.”
“It’s all we got,” said Jake as he hoisted himself off the ground. “Saddle up, boys. Let’s see about a new horse.”
Coach Carey led them through the backyards of Savannah’s deserted neighborhoods as they approached the car depot from a secure angle. There was a stretch of a hundred yards where they’d be exposed before they could hit the woods again. Coach Carey gathered them at the edge of the clearing.
“The compound is on the other side of those trees,” he explained, pointing across the road and toward a large vacant lot. “Once we cross the road and the clearing, we’ll have lots of cover to assess our options.”
Chase rose out of his crouch. “Let’s go, then.” He began to bolt into the clearing when Jake grabbed him by the arm.
“Hold up, Chase,” said Jake. An old pickup with two armed men in the back sped down the street in front of them towards the river. “You’ve got to slow down, son. Coach Carey knows this area. Let him call the shots.”
Chase dropped to a knee and his chin hit his chest. Coach Carey gave the young man a pat on the back in encouragement.
He’d mentored and coached teenage boys most of his adult life. These young men came from all walks of life. They were rich and poor. They came from broken families as well as two-parent homes. Unlike the adult world, where political animosity seemed to rule the day, high school football was about teamwork. He taught his players, both black and white, to be color blind. He told them that the concept of teamwork was not about me, but we.
Coach Carey believed that a lot of the problems of the world could be solved if people talked to each other instead of about each other.
He’d coached young men like Chase Allen before. They seemed on a mission to impress, which resulted in taking unnecessary risks. On the playing field, it might result in a fumble or a missed tackle. In life, miscalculated risks in an attempt to prove something could result in death or injury.
Coach Carey provided Chase some positive reinforcement. “All right, here’s the play. Chase, you’re the quickest among us and you’re very good with that rifle. We need you on the other side, providing cover. Also, you’ll have a clear line of sight up and down the road. I need you to get in position across the way near that stack of firewood. Once there, check for traffic, vehicles and anyone on foot. If you’re sure it’s clear, I’ll send Colton next.”
“Okay,” replied Chase eagerly.
“You guys provide cover as I send Jake after Colton. I’ll bring up the rear. By going one by one, we’ll draw less attention, and this way we’ll have rifle cover on both sides of the road. Sound good?”
“Yes, sir,” said Chase, which drew a quick glance from his father. Coach Carey concluded that the words yes and sir weren’t used very often between Jake and his son.
“Go!” said Coach Carey, and Chase took off in a flash. He swiftly crossed the road and took up his position as instructed.
Colton was next and promptly took up his position near Chase. Jake, who’d recovered from the jaunt through the neighborhood, immediately joined his son and Colton.
Before Coach Carey crossed the open space to join the others, he thought to himself, There’s a big difference between calling a play in football and the task of crossing the road in a dangerous, post-apocalyptic world.
In the end, teamwork results in achievement that an individual may not be able to reach.
He took a deep breath and ran across the road, knowing that he was covered.
Chapter 4
2:00 a.m., November 2
Sheriff’s Office Motor Pool
Savannah
The Hardin County Sheriff’s Impound Facility had been converted to Junior’s motor pool. Within the eight-foot-tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire were a variety of vehicles, both new and old. A large forklift commandeered from a scrap metal company outside town sat in the middle of the enclosed yard. New vehicles were unceremoniously tossed into piles along the fenced perimeter. They created another layer of protection for the prized antiquities centered in the facility—older model vehicles taken from people as they entered Savannah after the power grid collapsed.
“Yup, this is where our Jeep Wagoneer would have ended up,” said Colton as the men stealthily walked around the fence to get a better view of the gatehouse and its guards. All four men heard a heated conversation taking place between the two deputies assigned to protect one of the most valuable post-collapse commodities—operating vehicles.
The two were arguing about abandoning their post and heading toward the river, where the action was taking place. However, it had been fifteen minutes since any gunshots could be heard. One man wanted to go out of curiosity, but the other refused, not wanting to abandon his post and incur Junior’s wrath.
“Should we take them out?” asked Chase.
“That’s one option,” said Colton. “We can’t use the guns. They’ll draw too much attention.”
“We could get the jump on ’em,” said Jake. “I’m itchin’ to throw a few punches!”
“Patience, fellas,” interjected Coach Carey. “Let’s try a diversion first.”
Coach pulled his two-way radio out and called the play. “Tiger Tails, Tiger Tails, blue left. Blue left. KC Masterpiece. Pull trap. Repeat. KC Masterpiece. Pull trap. Go!”
“What the heck?” Jake laughed.
“There’s an Indian historic site just to the north of Cherry Mansion,” replied Coach Carey. “They installed a monument to pay tribute as part of the Trail of Tears National Historic Trail. It’s a beautiful sculpture depicting the Indians as they were driven to the west.”
“Blue left represents the northwest quadrant of town,” added Colton. “Pull trap signals to the Tiger Resistance to create a diversion.”
“Very good, Colton,” said Coach Carey.
“What about the KC Masterpiece part?” asked Jake. “That’s a dang good barbecue sauce.”
“We tried to come up with a variety of metonyms for locations around town,” continued Coach Carey.
“Look here, Coach,” said Jake. “I’m still figurin’ out the play callin’ and you gotta go using words like metropolitan.”
The men dropped to one knee as a car raced past the entrance of the motor pool. “No, Jake, not metropolitan. Metonym. It means a word or a name as a substitute for something else. Here’s an example. When you need a copy from a copy machine, you say you need a Xerox. In the south, everything is a Coke. In a restaurant, the server doesn’t ask if you’d like a soda. She wants to know if you want a Coke or sweet tea.”
“I get it,” said Colton. “Like when we complain about those fools in Washington, we’re not talking about the city. We’re talking about the government.”
“Exactly,” said Coach Carey. “In this case, KC Masterpiece refers to the beautiful Indian work of art. KC stands for Chiefs, like the football team, or Indians in our case. Masterpiece applies to the sculpture.”
“Coach, this is brilliant,” said Jake. “Even though some might say it’s politically incorrect.”
“Well, it’s easy for us to understand but over the head for Junior’s Neanderthals.” Coach Carey laughed. “Plus, political correctness isn’t really very important anymore.”
Chase stood up and peered over a partially crushed Subaru. “Everybody, the guards are gone.”
“Great!” exclaimed Jake as he allowed his six-foot-six frame to rise above their cover position.
“No, it’s not,” said Coach Carey as he grabbed Jake by the waistband and pulled him back down. “Nothing’s happened yet. They’re roaming around somewhere.”
Everyone hit the dirt next to the fence and began to scan their surroundings. The men had either returned inside the guard shack or abandoned their post after their earlier discussion. Or they overheard the group talking and they were coming after them.
“Should we abort?” asked Jake.
“Let’s fan out,” replied Colton. “I don’t like us bunched up. If something happens, run back to the edge of the trees near the woodpile and we’ll regroup.
Just as the men began to allow some separation between them, staccato gunfire erupted to their north. Coach Carey caught everyone’s eye and provided a thumbs-up.
Colton mouthed the word gunfire?
“Firecrackers,” replied Coach Carey.
The favorite diversionary tactic of the Tiger Resistance, the boys had quickly emptied the local fireworks stands that were full of inventory for the Labor Day weekend festivities. Initially, the Tigers only had a few weapons. They had increased their arsenal substantially through their insurgent attacks since the grid collapsed. However, they were very low on ammunition, so it was saved for important missions and defense. Fireworks were still the method of choice when attempting to get the attention of Junior’s men. By using empty barrels or other sound-modifying tools, a simple pack of firecrackers could sound like an automatic weapon from a distance.
The crack of a tree branch behind them caused the group to snap to attention. Heavy footsteps could be heard ambling along the trail parallel to the chain-link fence. More steps were approaching.
Nobody breathed as they listened to every step hit the ground. Were they discovered?
Everyone raised their weapons and prepared to fight. The two guards from the motor pool were searching for them.
The first man quickly moved past their position. But the trailing guard stopped only twenty feet away. He crouched and looked under the tree canopy created by the leafless oaks. He swung around and trained his rifle on the path he’d just used. He whipped his head back and forth. He sensed something.
Colton raised his gun and placed the man squarely in his sights. His finger eased onto the trigger. He waited. He had the shot, but he waited.
Chapter 5
2:00 a.m., November 2
Hardin Medical Center
Savannah
“Young man,” said Dr. Fulcher as he exited Alex’s room. “You can come in now. Again, she’s stable, but these next few hours are critical to her recovery. She’s also responsive to my voice, but she won’t answer any questions that I pose to her beyond medical matters. I need you to help us check for memory loss. Please come in.”
Beau slowly walked into the room. Alex was connected to an IV line on a portable line-stat stand. The IV bag provided a steady drip of fluids to help her body recover from the trauma. Alex slowly turned her head toward him and beamed. She raised her left arm to reach for him and he quickly joined her side.
“Beau,” she whispered as he held her hand, “is this your idea of a date?”
Beau started laughing and turned to Dr. Fulcher and the nurse. “She’s gonna be fine. She remembers me and the last time we saw each other. Thank you both.”
“Good,” said Dr. Fulcher. “Alex, I don’t want you to overexert. Rest is critical right now and we still need to monitor you for internal injuries. Do you understand, young lady?”
Alex smiled and nodded. She squeezed Beau’s hand, who responded on her behalf.
“She’ll be a good patient, Doc. I’ll make sure of it.”
“We’ll check on you both in a little while,” said Dr. Fulcher as he turned and left the room. “Nurse, let’s see about the man in the parking lot with two broken legs.”
“Broken legs?” asked
Alex.
“Yeah,” replied Beau proudly. “I ran over one of Junior’s men in the parking lot. He’s tied up between two cars at the moment.”
Alex managed a giggle and then winced in pain. “Thank you, Beau.”
“No problem. Do you remember what happened?”
She tried to lift herself up in bed but immediately fell back onto her pillow. Beau helped her adjust to get comfortable.
“Junior had me at the jail and then took me to meet his mother. She was creepy.”
Beau laughed. “That’s bein’ too kind. She’s creepy and crazy. Did she hurt you?”
Alex shook her head and pointed toward her water cup. Beau held it for her while she sipped water through a straw. Alex smiled and nodded when she was done.
“Ma asked a lot of questions about my parents and where we’ve been. I refused to answer and then she called me names. Beau, she described the nasty things that Junior was going to do to me. You know, like she’d watched him before or something. Anyway, the last thing I remember was being pulled towards Junior’s house.”
Alex hesitated and tears welled up in her eyes.
Beau gently wiped them away with his hands and leaned into her and whispered, “It’s okay, Alex. You’re safe now. I’m with you, and the others will find us soon. Don’t worry.”
Alex took a deep breath to calm her emotions. “Beau, he was gonna rape me. Like the other girls. He was going to make me his sex slave.” Alex lost it and began to cry. Beau tried to console her as Alex wrestled with the happiness of being alive versus the potential horrors that Junior had in store for her.
“You’re safe now,” he said. “We’ll get you healthy and then all of us will come up with a plan to deal with Ma and Junior once and for all.”
SMACK! SMACK!
“Where is everybody?” screamed a man from the main entrance to the hospital. “We’ve got wounded out here! Hey! Who’s on duty anyway! Where’s the deputy?”