The Dead Familiar (Winterhaven Series)

by J. D. Mckenna

  George had to admit that Rey was talking sense, but it wasn't his decision alone.

  "I'll talk to the boys, give me a minute?" he requested.

  Rey nodded. George walked back to his actors, gathering them in close. Calmly, he began to explain what was probably happening in the world, and what had likely happened to their home. Some of the men started crying, some of them just nodded, already aware. He then went on to detail Rey's offer, suggesting that they put it to a vote.

  After a few minutes to think about it, almost all the men voted to go with Rey and Jose. If they heard that New York was miraculously unscathed, they could still head home, but for now, it couldn't hurt to head northeast instead of straight east. It wouldn't cost them that much extra time, and if New York was gone, it was the best chance that they had of survival. With the men in agreement, George gave the word to Rey, they would go to Minnesota. Rey shook his hand again, promising the big man that there would be a future waiting for them when they got there.

  Destination set, George's men began gathering whatever supplies they could find in the small town, loading the bus up with water and food. Once they had run out of space, they got the bus turned around and headed out of town. With Rey and Jose's little red Chevy truck leading the way, the group headed for Wyoming. They planned to break east once they were out of Utah. No one was sure what they would find once they got to Minnesota, not even Rey, but they had a sliver of hope at least. That's all anyone could ask for anymore.

  Chapter 15: The Grey Men

  8:00am

  August 16th, 2015

  Lucasville Estate, Mississippi

  "Do you understand your orders?"

  George Roberts Lucas III asked without looking. Behind him stood his five highest ranking officers, standing at ramrod attention. He had called them to join him at the estate's drive earlier that morning, filling them in on the night’s events. Since the pledging of their loyalty just a few short hours ago, much had changed. During the night, the final exchange of fire between the United States, and the Chinese had brought ruination to the world of men. It had been a furious onslaught, with each side seeking not victory, but sheer extermination. No one really knew what cost the Chinese had payed, but America had bled freely.

  George's information had stayed accurate until the Internet fell with not enough server's remaining online to power it. With the loss of connection, he had also lost his ability to track events by satellite or receive broadcasts from beyond the local area. He had learned much before that occurred however.

  Both coasts had received extensive bombardments by Chinese nuclear submarines. On the west coast; Seattle, L. A., and San Diego were lost. Forest fires burned unchecked throughout the forests and shrublands, making escape even more difficult for any unfortunate survivors. On the East Coast, the entirety of New England and on down to Richmond was simply gone. The area would remain an apocalyptic wasteland for hundreds of years, irradiated and scorched.

  There was little word of survivors out there, the attacks had been too well coordinated and too extensive for any to realistically have survived. Other notable sites of nuclear attacks were: Chicago, St. Louis, New Orleans, and Denver, with large swathes of Texas put to the torch in the final moments as well. All told, well over fifty warheads had managed to detonate on American soil, mostly in major metropolitan areas.

  Those cities that had escaped nuclear attack were mainly smaller hubs, but they had received their own devastations. Smuggled or air dropped EMP's cut power from the grids, leaving their populations trapped in the darkness with nuclear fallout drifting on the wind. Sleeper agents had apparently appeared finally, detonating Reaper virus canisters in major population centers as well, with horrific casualties and infection rates. The only good news seemed to be that with the nuclear strikes so quickly following the biological attacks, some of the infected areas had been cauterized and contained. It remained to be seen how well the disease could spread in this new wasteland.

  George had given all this information to his men in a calm, pragmatic tone. They had listened in shocked horror, demanding proof. He provided images and satellite pictures of American cities burnt to ash; the drifting clouds of death falling over towns and ruined landscapes. He gave them time to digest the information, standing aside as they discussed the implications and wrestled with a new and horrific reality. Then, with a smile, he had outlined his strategies for the future. Though they were uneasy with his order's, their loyalty, bought now with both power and life, was rock-solid. They would follow him in order to preserve themselves and their families.

  Still standing at attention, they received the twitching, manic gaze of their leader with impassive masks. With hardened hearts, the men answered affirmatively. They knew their orders, and they would fulfill them.

  Returning to their waiting squads of men, they issued the move out directives. Men jumped to, shouldering rifles and hurrying to waiting trucks. Each man knew his destination and his mission. No man would risk losing the favor of their benefactor by disobeying those orders now.

  George watched on silently, a small twist at the corner of his mouth resembling a smile. By tomorrow, I will have cleansed a fifty mile radius of all human filth. I will have claimed northwest Mississippi as my own, the seat of the confederacy and the home of the pure Americans. Degenerates, coloreds, aliens and the tainted stock; they will be removed, clearing the way for my people. Those we spare shall have a place however, a place more deserving of them. I shall use the sweat of their backs to build this empire of mine. In time, they will understand that they have simply been returned to their rightful place. Perhaps they will even thank me for removing the unfair stresses of pretending to equality. George chuckled at that last thought, knowing that even such filth believed themselves to be freemen, equal to even himself. Perhaps not, but in a few generations....they may come to understand. We shall see.

  Settling the wide brimmed cavalrymen's hat over his ears, he climbed up in the lead jeep. An army of well-armed, grey clad men sat in trucks behind him. With a fearsome rebel yell, he moved his army out, off to claim his birthright.

  Chapter 16: The Final Hurdle

  5:14 am

  A few miles into Lake Itasca State Forest.

  Jack could tell that things were very, very wrong. Upon approaching the newly completed guard station, the devastation became apparent. A burning, crashed vehicle sat idly next to the bullet-pocked building. The scent of burnt hair and flesh wafted with the wind, drawing retches from some of the other travelers.

  Jack halted the convoy a couple hundred meters away, eyeing the destruction ahead. He tried reaching the main stronghold on his radio, but was still outside of the maximum range. He received no reply, though it was possibly that they could hear him broadcasting and his handset simply lacked the power to get a response. Filled with rage at the unexpected attack, he issued terse commands to his followers.

  “Ready up, something’s going on here and I don’t like it... Dax, what’s your take?” he asked.

  “Well, from the looks of that car, someone got attacked here. No way to know if they were connected with us or just passing by, but either way we had a fight here. Worse yet, the lack of dead makes me think that whoever did the attacking is still around here,” the old soldier replied.

  Jack found himself agreeing, “Yeah, I’d expect some kind of casualties if this had been a firefight, so either the winner’s didn’t get anyone other than those in the car, didn’t lose anyone themselves, or they policed the bodies. Whatever the case, there’s still some kind of force around here. This looks about an hour or two old. All-in-all it’s a good chance we have hostiles somewhere in the vicinity.”

  “Yeah, look, what’s the plan? We could try and sneak a few guys to get a look up ahead, or just push through as a group. Way I see it, I’d like to have the information, but I don’t fancy splitting up our limited fighting force.” Dax said.

  Jack considered, knowing that neither option was overly attr
active.

  “Fuck, we all go. If this base has been compromised, we are in serious shit. If not, we’ll need to get everyone inside quickly. Either way, we are too close to walk away. There’s something else man,” Jack said quietly, with a tremor in his voice. “My little brother and mom are supposed to be coming through here. They could already be ahead, or still enroute. I gotta find out if they are safe, and if they haven’t got here yet, I have to make it safe or stay to warn them away.”

  Dax grunted, not bothering to argue.

  You don’t leave family.

  Switching to the group-wide channel, Jack gave everyone the run down. “Ok, so obviously we had an attack here. Dax and I agree that there might still be hostile forces in the area, but given the overall situation, we have to push forwards. We go ahead, moving slow. There’s enough light starting to shine that we should be able to see anyone coming on the road, and we are within a few miles of safety. We’ll keep the same formation, but I need to switch up seating arrangements. Cyrus, I need you in the back of the truck, keeping an eye on my six. Justin, get over to the bus with a couple of weapons and find out if anyone knows how to use them. Put anyone who can shoot by the windows, eyes to the woods.”

  Thinking further about the big lumbering school bus, “Get everyone else down in the center aisle. Tell them to pile their bags along the buses sides for added protection from small-arms fire.” he ordered.

  Jack paused, considering the disposition of his forces. He felt a moment of panic rise as he realized that he was putting close friends into harm’s way. He was asking them to help him protect the convoy against an unknown enemy, but they weren’t trained warriors. It was dangerous, and he hated to ask them, but it was the only choice he had.

  “Elizabeth, you can drive a stick, so you take Cyrus’s spot behind my M35’s wheel while Meghan takes yours. Kate you can stay on the other one. Get a gun to Jeff and Duke, and put Duke in with the Cove’s. With Brian still out, I don’t want Liz or Belle responsible for protecting that vehicle.”

  Dax jumped in, “Should we just abandon the SUV’s and put everyone in the trucks and bus?” he asked.

  Jack knew better. “No, it gives anyone attacking us an easy target to concentrate their fire on. This way they have to choose what to shoot at, keeping the sum of their firepower more spread out. That should help us limit casualties and give everyone a better chance to run if shit goes south. That bus is done for if the convoy breaks, but there’s nothing we can really do about that. Our best bet remains staying out of trouble and getting to the base ahead.”

  Dax grunted, won over by Jack’s logic. “Yeah, that sounds about right to me. You got anything else?”

  “No, everyone should be in the best possible position to protect themselves. Now we just hope that I’m over-reacting. Lets roll on. When we get closer I can contact the main base and get more information.”

  Elizabeth and Cyrus had taken their new positions while Jack continued talking. Duke and the rest had found their seats, and Justin had distributed weapons throughout the bus. With his order’s fulfilled, Jack moved the convoy out again, his truck moving to the rear of the formation. This position allowed him to cover its entire length from the gun nest of the M35, granting it added protection. They drove on through the woods, following the winding gravel drive. Jack kept one eye on the tree’s around him, the other on the road. He also kept trying to reach the base ahead via radio.

  “Hello, this is Jack Hightower, calling for Gary Scofield. I am five miles out, but see signs of fighting. Can I get a sit-rep?” He continued to repeat the message as they drove, beginning to fear the worst when he received no reply. Finally, after the fifth or sixth iteration of his message, a broken, crackling response flushed through his earpiece.

  “Jack! It’s Sam! We made it ...attacked on....in...escaped convicts, they must have busted out when the power failed! They chased us...... the gates, trying to get in! We’ve been holding them off …...not very many of us inside .......outnumbered.....hundred of them out there, .... firearms. Where are you?”

  “Damn it, Sam! Copy last, but I can barely make you out!” Jack shouted, desperate to get to his brother. From the sound of the message, it was clear that his little bro was inside the compound ahead, but fighting off an attacking force.

  “Can......hear me? Mom....Gary is dead....Hurry!” came the reply.

  Jack felt a hole open up in his gut and a lurch in his heart. Gary dead? No fucking way. No way he dies in the first night. We planned this whole thing together. I can’t do this without him. He was supposed to be our leader, I get ‘em here and he gives them a future, that was the deal...

  Jack shook himself. There was no time for these thoughts now. His brother needed his help just a few miles ahead, and he could do no good distracted. He summoned the detached feeling that he used when he was in combat, settling into the cold, emotionless pit of his soldier self.

  He tried the radio, but was greeted with silence all over again, probably due to the lingering effects of the earlier Chinese attacks. Giving up the effort at communication, Jack urged the convoy to push faster.

  “It sounds like they are at the gates, I think it will be clear until we get there. Here is what we are going to do. I want everyone to pull off to the side in a mile and let the M35’s get up ahead. Follow a half mile behind us and hold position at the tree line. We are going to blast a hole in their lines, secure the gate, and provide a window. Break for safety if the opportunity presents itself, but if it looks like the M35’s are getting over-run, I want you all to get out of here. Try and find some other place to hole up in. Do you copy?” he asked.

  “Aye aye!” came the resounding reply. Jack felt their fear through the radio, sensing it as everyone tensed for battle. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline begin to flood his veins, preparing his body for the coming fight even as his mind shed itself of distractions and sped itself up for the coming fight.

  With Elizabeth Fel driving and Cyrus in the back ready to fire to the rear, Jack’s truck came roaring out of the woods, ready for war. Jack’s quick eyes easily picked up the convict’s uniforms, prioritizing targets. Depressing the trigger, he fought the bucking .50 cal, forcing it to spew it’s deadly fire in the direction of his choosing. As he swept the gun left, he reduced a line of attackers to red mush and mist, chewing their bodies apart with multiple impacts that tore through bone and ligament alike in a deadly fusillade. Swinging back to the right, he did the same thing to a huddled bunch that had been trying to run along the walls at the gatehouse.

  His deadly accurate fire quickly opened a lane, and Elizabeth drove the truck straight through it, Kate right on her heels. Cyrus braced himself against the jarring ride, firing shotgun blasts as enemies went running by his firing window. He watched in satisfaction as the heavy buckshot sent bodies spinning off their feet and to the ground, scarcely considering his actions.

  As they neared the main gate, Elizabeth swung the truck around, turning it into a stationary placement on the right side of the door. Kate mirrored her movements, parking to the left. Cyrus hopped out and went right, holding the hole between the truck’s rear and the walls behind it while the .50’s went to work.

  Jack and Dax flung deadly murder at the nearby criminals, clearing a twenty yard bubble of safety around the gate.

  Alright, now we just have to hold, get the gate open, and rush the bus in. Assuming these bastards give us the time. Clearly, someone on the inside had the same idea; no sooner was the gate clear of convicts then it began to creak open to permit entrance.

  As soon as the horde’s of hardened criminals saw the opening gate however, they rushed in, trying to overrun Jack’s firepower through sheer numbers. As they came sprinting towards the trucks, encroaching from all directions, Jack realized the reality of his situation.

  No way we hold them. All it takes is a couple of them getting in too close, past our firing envelopes. Once we can’t use the fifties, we have to defend ourselves and let
their comraades close or keep firing and get killed from short range. Either way they’ll have us. I have to get that gate closed and us out of here, maybe we can try again later but at least the bus and SUV’s can get away for now…. though I doubt we can rush these trucks out as easily now that the element of surprise is gone.

  Even as he finished his mental examination of the situation, the bus and other vehicles came roaring out of the woods. Against Jack’s orders, Bear had ordered the bus to push on, planning to run right through the enemy and reach the safety of the walls ahead. He had no intention of running away to the dubious safety of a dying nation while his friend fought a battle to the death behind him. With the bus leading and the charger and SUV’s tight on its heels, the convoy came crashing on.

  At the sight of the softer targets, convicts began shifting some of their fire, trying to bring down a vehicle. One downed vehicle could become a hostage or bargaining chip for them, and they knew it.

  Jack saw the change in fire, realizing in an instant what the convicts were attempting. Shouting over the din of battle, he got Dax’s attention. Gesturing pointedly while staying as covered from his enemies return fire as he could, Jack made sure that the old man saw the bus coming.

  Reaching the same conclusion as Jack had, Dax started clearing the path between the bus and gate, ignoring his left flank. Jack did the same thing, relying on Cyrus and Elizabeth to keep the enemy from getting up to the truck. The two ex-soldiers kept their guns trained ahead, aiming at anyone who got close to the slow-moving vehicle.

  Without the .50 calibers helping, the fire from Elizabeth, Justin, Kate and Cyrus simply wasn’t cutting it. Convicts were quickly closing the distance, laying behind small grassy knolls to fire before sprinting forwards in a leapfrog maneuver. The attackers no longer had to accept the same casualty rate as when they were attempting to just overwhelm through human wave attacks, and they were using the distraction of the bus to their advantage. As he grabbed for shells to reload the spent shotgun, Cyrus was dropped to the ground by a bullet. Jack heard his groans, but didn’t have time to stop firing and check on his friend.