Lauren thought for a second. “We live in a cul-de-sac. Most of our neighbors have kids. The Thompsons next door, work from home and have four kids. There’s an older lady—Mrs. Randolph. She lives by herself across the street. There’s also Mr. Hobson on the other side of us. He’s an asshole, so if the shooter gets him it won’t bother me.”
Some members of the group behind them began to laugh at Lauren’s words. Norman let out a snicker. Alan smiled and shook his head. Dave looked away and then back to Lauren with an emotionless stare.
“Mrs. Randolph is dead now. He shot her in the face. Are you close with the Thompsons?”
“Yeah, pretty close,” Lauren said with a shudder. “Mom and Dad play cards with them on occasion and they always come to our parties.”
“Well, they’re dead now, too,” Dave said. He pointed downrange. “The shooter knocked on their door and when they opened it, he fired into the house, killing everyone inside that he could see.”
Lauren looked up at Instructor Dave as the words that he spoke gave her chills.
“He went inside and shot all four of the kids,” Dave said. “He did it while they screamed and cried for their parents.”
A lump began to form on the back of Lauren’s throat and her body was shaking a bit. Dave looked at her and noticed, but didn’t back down.
“It’s Sunday, Lauren. Who’s at home right now?”
Lauren paused. “Mom is home for sure. Dad is too. If I’m not at work, so am I.”
“The shooter is on his way there, Lauren. He’s about a minute away from walking into your house and killing your parents. You’ve gone for a walk and you just turned the corner to your street. You see a strange man walking toward your house with a rifle in his hands. He hasn’t seen you yet. What do you do?”
Lauren looked at Dave and then stared hard at the target. She was beginning to imagine herself in the situation that was being told to her. The more he spoke, the more real it was. Dave walked away from her and stood near the bench. Lauren looked back at him expecting him to say more, but he didn’t. She turned her body to face downrange and brought the silhouette into view, then turned to look at her rifle. She knew that with it, she could accurately hit the target with ease. Dave shook his head.
“Do you typically carry an AR-15 when you go on walks?” Dave said.
A bit unsure of what to do, Lauren fixated on the target. She began to realize that this exercise was all about action—the willingness to bring the fight to the enemy. If she acted, would the shooter see her? Would he open fire in her direction? Anything was possible. She knew that if she didn’t act, her parents would be as good as dead. A feeling of responsibility overcame her and she knew then, what she had to do. Without further hesitation, Lauren drew the Glock from its holster, chambered a round and took off in a sprint toward the target, staying close to the dirt embankment on her right side. Jogging just behind her but giving her plenty of space, Instructor Dave followed. She raised the pistol upward and began firing at the target, seeing most of her shots hitting the ground just below it. She had never taken a shot this far out with a handgun before.
“He’s spotted you, take cover!” Dave shouted.
Lauren dove to the ground and leaned sideways to her right, putting as much of the ground as she could between herself and the silhouette. With her pistol still pointed at the target, she aimed a bit higher and fired a quick double-tap, instantly hearing the report of the bullets hitting the steel. She then emptied the remainder of the magazine into it, hitting it with the majority of her shots. She stood up and proceeded closer. As she neared the target, she dropped the empty magazine from the Glock and replaced it with a full one. She raised the weapon, released the slide, and brought the target into her sight picture. Dave walked up behind her and carefully placed his hand on her shoulder. She shuddered a bit when she felt his hand.
“He’s down,” Dave said calmly.
Chapter 13
The barricade
Wolf Gap
Hardy County West Virginia
Present day
Norman and Fred bounced around in the bed of Peter’s truck as it ran over some potholes on a very much unmaintained Trout Run Road. The weather always took a toll on the pavement each year and this was the first time ever it had gone this long without being repaired. As they passed slowly over the bridge that stretched across Trout Run, Norman looked back to see Bryan Taylor waving his hand to them from the end of his driveway. Norman waved back and Fred did the same. Bryan had a shotgun slung over his shoulder and a pistol on his hip. His daughter, Emily was with him, holding her father’s hand. She looked up at her father and noticed him waving, and did the same.
“Guess they decided to take your advice,” Norman said as Fred glanced at him.
“Yeah,” Fred said, “I’m glad. Hopefully, he got his wife to carry a gun as well. I never see her with a gun. They need to keep a real close eye on that little girl, too.”
Fred turned around and looked closely at the two homes that had been abandoned by their owners not long after the collapse. They had left without warning, presumably to join up with other family elsewhere. Due to their proximity to his own home, Bryan Taylor had been keeping a close eye on them, to make sure they weren’t being vandalized or being used to quarter unauthorized occupants. No one knew if their owners would ever return, especially now with vehicle traffic and fuel being so scarce. The property was overrun with weeds and tall grass, but with all visible windows and doors appearing intact, Fred’s attention turned back to the road and the forest around them.
Norman looked Fred over as he sat on the wheel well across from him and shook his head. Fred was wearing his multicam ACU fatigues and had on a body armor vest with extra magazines for his M1A rifle, which he took with him everywhere. He also had two Colt 1911 .45 automatic pistols, each in a drop-side holster on both legs. Pouches for extra pistol magazines adorned his belt, as did several other pouches that Norman had no idea what they were for. Fred looked like he was ready for combat. He was busy looking all around the woods as they drove, but had noticed Norman looking him over.
“What?” Fred asked with a grimace.
“Nothing,” Norman replied. “It’s just that, I wish I had known it was going to be this kind of party.”
“This ain’t no party,” Fred asserted.
“What I meant was, I would’ve dressed for the occasion,” Norman said, raising his voice a little as the truck began to ascend the hill and the engine, in turn got louder.
Fred nodded. “We all need to take this threat seriously,” he said sternly, also with a raised voice in order to overcome the engine noise. He began to look around again, his attention fixated on the woods.
“Oh, I agree fully,” Norman said.
Norman patted his AK-47 and adjusted his chest rig which carried three extra magazines. He realized this was the second time in two days that he had worn it. The incident at the Ackermanns was first time he had worn it since their run-in with a group of takers last summer. Fred looked at Norman, who was adjusting his gear to make it feel more comfortable. He could tell that Norman was not used to wearing load-bearing gear.
“I have a plate carrier and some body armor that will fit you, if you want to trade that thing in,” Fred said.
Norman looked confused. “You don’t think this is enough?” he asked. “I’ve always been told that three extra magazines is enough for most situations.”
“Oh, what you’ve got on is fine for now, I think,” Fred began, “but I’m willing to bet that if we end up in a firefight, you will want your internal organs protected a bit better.”
Norman looked stunned. He had mentally prepared himself for such a thing, but hearing an Army veteran, who had seen combat and probably killed more than his fair share, say this was eye-opening for him. He turned to look forward and could see the crest of the hill ahead where the barricade would soon come into view. The barricade was nothing more than a large overhang of sandstone and qu
artzite that had been demolished and left to cover the entire road. The chunks that had fallen into the road varied in size, the smallest being compared to the size of a kitchen appliance with some as large as an automobile. The boulders were big enough that it would be quite an undertaking to remove them from the road. As the truck neared the barricade, Michael Perry stuck his head out of the passenger window.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled in total disgust.
The truck came to a halt about ten yards from the barricade. Michael’s door opened first and he ran to the pile of rocks. Fred wasn’t far behind. He jumped out of the truck with his M1A and began scanning the woods around them. Norman hopped off the truck bed with his AK and stood beside the driver’s door as Peter turned the ignition off and got out. Michael put his hands on his hips and cursed loudly.
“This is unbelievable!” he shouted.
Some of the stone chunks that made up the barricade had somehow been moved aside, creating a broken path right down the middle. It wasn’t large enough for an automobile to pass through, but it looked like the right size for a motorcycle. Michael just shook his head in disbelief.
“You been up here moving rocks recently, Mike?” Fred asked.
“Hell, no,” Michael replied. “This definitely wasn’t my doing.”
“Then how the hell did this happen?” Fred pondered.
“I have no idea,” Michael said in disgust. “But it was done deliberately.”
Norman and Peter approached him. Fred turned away and began scanning the woods again, especially the ones past the barricade near the curve in the road that kept the Wolf Gap campground hidden from view.
“Let’s keep our voices down,” Fred said. He walked through the path to get a view of the barricade from the other side, his rifle at ready.
Peter walked up to the barricade and pushed on some rocks with his hands while taking a look around. “This isn’t good,” he said.
“No, it isn’t,” Norman agreed. “But it explains some things.”
Michael looked the work over, as if trying to imagine how it had happened. “One thing’s for certain,” he said, “with a path like this, they could have easily drifted their bikes down this hill and right to the Ackermann’s farm.”
“And it would have been the first place visible from the road this time of year,” Norman pointed out.
The three just stood there, taking it all in for a moment. Fred stood just on the other side of the barricade from them. He said nothing and his head was literally on a swivel, looking into the trees.
“This is scary, guys. If someone has the ability to move these rocks, the barricade is no longer a viable option. The only way to make this completely impassable is to just blow the road up,” Michael said.
“We’re not blowing the damn road up,” Fred declared. He lifted his rifle and began scanning the area with the scope. “You guys keep your eyes to the trees,” he continued. “I don’t like this shit.”
Norman immediately lifted his rifle to low-ready and began to look around. While not formally trained in military combat maneuvers, he had received his fair share of tactical training during his tenure as a government contractor. Some of that training had been about how to know the signs of a possible ambush. To him, this was beginning to look like a perfect place for something like that to happen. It was apparent that Fred had had that impression since they’d arrived.
“You know, Fred, we’re standing in a damn kill zone,” Norman said.
“Yep,” Fred uttered, seemingly not happy with their situation. “Nice of you to notice.”
“For them? Or for us?” Peter said.
Michael pulled his pistol from its holster and also began to take a look around. Feeling a bit left out, Peter did the same.
“Us. I think,” Michael said.
“Guess we picked a hell of a day to not bring more firepower,” Peter said in an attempt to lighten the mood. It didn’t seem to work.
Fred continued up the road toward the curve with his rifle ready. Not wanting him to be alone, Norman ran up to just behind him. He turned to Michael and Peter.
“Watch our backs,” he said.
They both nodded, and then walked through the divide in the barricade and followed them, staying a short distance behind. The four moved forward as a team until they reached the curve in the road. Norman looked down at what appeared to be narrow tire marks on the road. He got Peter’s attention and pointed to them.
“I’m no expert, but those look like motorcycle tracks,” Peter said sarcastically in a low tone.
The group continued to walk slowly. As the campsite came into view to their left, Fred went into a crouch and motioned for the others to do the same. Norman did so immediately and Michael mimicked him, unsure of what exactly to do or what the plan was. Peter did his best to follow their lead, but soon found it wasn’t the easiest stance to maintain. Norman brought his AK to his cheek and swiveled from one side of the camping area to the other. The camping area of Wolf Gap was a small roundabout with several numbered campsites for car camping. Some of the cars that had been left there by people fleeing populated areas after the collapse still remained, although their owners were long gone and had been for some time. The cars had since been vandalized with everything of value either having been removed or destroyed. Fred picked up his pace and Norman followed several yards behind him. Fred’s M1A swept back and forth across the area. When he was satisfied that the area was secure, he stood up fully and lowered his rifle. Noticing this, Norman did the same. Michael took a deep breath and let it out audibly. Peter held onto his pistol with both hands and continued to look around.
“Sorry about that, guys,” Fred said. “Force of habit. I could almost feel someone’s eyes looking at me through all that cover.”
“No need to apologize,” Michael said. “I was getting spooked back there, too.”
“Same here,” Norman said.
“That’s good. Fear is a tool. This is a great spot to get ambushed,” Fred said. “There’s no easy way in or out.”
“I, for one, accept your apology,” Peter said, once again in an attempt to make a joke.
Fred just looked at him and shook his head, partially in disgust and partially knowing that Peter just couldn’t help himself. He took almost everything in stride—that was just his nature. Sometimes, it was nice to have a little comic relief.
“Well, there’s no doubt in my mind about it now,” Norman said, “those bikers definitely came through this way. They probably stopped here and looked around, then continued down the hill with their engines off.”
“A sneak attack,” Peter said.
“Well, in my mind, the big question is how in the hell those stones got moved,” Michael pointed out. “It would have taken at least a bobcat or something similar. No way they did it by hand.”
“There’s also no way they chained up and towed them with a Harley,” Peter pointed out, sounding serious for the first time since their arrival. He walked ahead of the group and into the gravel parking area near the campsite roundabout. Looking down at the gravel, he noticed some very large tire tracks. “Mike, take a look as these,” he said.
Michael walked over to him and holstered his pistol. “Something’s been unloaded off of a trailer here,” he said and looked around some more. “With a dual-tire configuration like that, I can’t imagine it could be anything else but an equipment trailer.” He pointed to the end of the parking area at some other tracks. “There’s plenty of room to maneuver in this parking lot.”
“What came off the trailer?” Norman asked.
Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. A backhoe, maybe. Wheeled excavator or something similar—maybe something bigger.”
“Would that be enough to make that path?” Norman asked again.
“Oh hell, yeah,” Michael said. “They could have cleared the entire road with either one of those.”
“Then, why the hell didn’t they?” Fred asked curiously. “Why do half the job when
you could’ve just as easily cleared the entire road?”
“That would be the question of the day, Fred,” Peter added.
“I agree, Pete,” Michael said. “I got nothing.”
Fred and the others began to ponder the possibilities, none of which they liked very much.
After a pause, Fred said, “Well, gents…let’s not overthink this. Maybe it was something simple. Maybe their equipment malfunctioned before it could finish the job.”
Michael began looking around for evidence of a more common equipment malfunction, such as oil or hydraulic fluid on the road or close beside it. “That sounds plausible, actually,” he said. “Nothing else really makes much sense.”
“Guys, we could stand here and ponder all day and it still wouldn’t matter,” Norman said, sounding a bit more annoyed than he normally allowed himself to be. “Someone’s decided they want in, and this was the only thing keeping them out.”
The group congregated in the middle of the road just outside the parking area and nodded in agreement with Norman, but none said a word.
Norman walked away from the group and then turned back to look at all of them. “We’re going to have to secure this position now at all times,” he said. “The plans we talked about at the meeting are going to have to be put into action—starting today.”
The others nodded.
“How many guys in the valley can perform a task like that?” Peter asked. “The majority of us are laborers and homemakers. Being an armed guard isn’t for everyone.”
“It’s going to have to be, Pete,” Fred asserted. “We don’t have a choice in the matter. We can’t trust an inanimate barricade to do the job on its own. We tried that and look what we ended up with.”
“If we’re considering that, we should consider securing both borders—north as well as south,” Michael said. “We need to think seriously about fashioning some sort of a blockade at the north end of the valley and guard it, too.”
“I agree, Mike,” Norman said. “We shouldn’t half-ass this.”
What's Left of My World: A Story of a Family's Survival Page 22