by Angela White
Lightning flashed, bright enough to illuminate the tent, and then there was only darkness and the heavy patter of the rain again. Kenn started to drift off while waiting for the inevitable crack of thunder.
Crunch.
Kkaaaabbbbaaammm!
Kenn’s eyes snapped open, moving to the scared teenager’s face in the darkness. Someone was out there.
Snap!
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
There was an alarm for each breach, telling the Marine how many ambushers they had.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The two males moved instantly, following the plan worked out before leaving the base ten days ago. Kenn slit a long gash in the tent wall and then the thick, black tarp over the MRAP. The boy immediately began sliding their things inside, staying low in case gunfire broke out.
Footsteps came and the Marine inside took over, evaluating the threat and picking the proper action in seconds. Not rushing, but sneaking, if they were unaware of breaking a perimeter alarm, then they were not professionals….
Snap!
Moving fast instead of careful, the soft murmur of voices instead of the silence of hand signals….Kenn’s lip curled. Boots8 - they still had a chance.
Kenn waved the boy into the truck’s floorboard and quickly got in behind him, adrenaline was flowing in thick waves. Charlie started the engine without being told, and Kenn brought his M16 out as bright red lightning flashed in the far distance.
“They still have the truck!”
“Move in!”
“Get the boy! He’s what we want!”
Recognition came, and Kenn grinned coolly, kneeling in the seat. The tail from Ft. Defiance he’d thought they’d lost a week ago - seven moving targets in the darkness. No problem.
“You’ll have to take this instead," Kenn said as he rose up, throwing off the tarp. He fired twice, following their steps with his well-trained ears.
Charlie held the brake down with his palm and shifted them smoothly into drive, sticking to the set plan.
Men grunted, fired back in the wet, cold darkness, and the Marine slid back down.
Charlie hit the gas. The truck's tires spun, fishtailing on a patch of ice as it lunged forward, spraying mud and clumps of locoweed.
“Get the bikes! We need his blood!”
“Shoot him!"
All of the men’s eyes were vivid in the dark, not right when the lightning and gun flash illuminated them, and their movements were jerky. Desperation made them reckless and they openly charged the truck.
“Now, boy!”
Charlie slammed both hands onto the brake. As they slid to a wet, muddy stop, Kenn used the enemy’s noises to pinpoint their locations - the ploy drawing them out.
The Marine fired. Five more deadly shots in the darkness, and then there was only the quiet engine and the damp, cold wind howling by them and the adobe buildings in the distance.
“Boo-yah, baby!”
“Are they dead?”
The boy's tone wasn’t exactly calm, but Kenn was impressed with the control he had shown during the assault - his first. The Marine put it in park as the teenager moved to the passenger seat.
“Give us some light and we’ll find out," Kenn said, knowing they were. Each of them was a kill shot, but he was eager for even the boy’s approval, since there was no one else around. He was alone with the often-sullen teenager, protecting them both without doing without the attention and respect he craved. He would take what he could get.
The cadet used one of the umbrella torches they’d made before leaving the base, the glass tops giving each of the three small candles on the thin wooden board a small shelter from the elements. He held it high, taking it all in.
Kenn’s sharp eyes went over what there was to see around them. Shrubs, junipers, patches of mud, huge tire busters he would be careful to avoid, and darkness - more of that than anything else.
Stomach uneasy, but eyes wide with respect, the boy looked at the battlefield with equal amounts of comfort and guilt. The seven bodies lay in two half circles, each one a clean shot through dirty camouflage uniforms and black ski masks. Considering the darkness Kenn had been shooting through, it was amazing to Charlie. Not one miss.
After a moment, Kenn sat down on the wet, hard seat, motioning for the boy to put out the light.
“We takin' their stuff?”
“No. See the sores? They’re sick. We’ll hit the redline, make another click or two, then doze for a bit.”
“They wanted me? That’s why they’ve been following us?”
Kenn saw no reason to lie as he pulled up his hood, indicated that the child do the same. Both males heard a distant dog barking miserably, but ignored it as just another starving pet still chained in someone’s backyard.
“Yes. Probably thought your blood would heal them. Crazy shit now, and women and kids are big targets. Stay close. It’ll just get worse."
The drab truck ran out of gas an hour later, and while Kenn was sad to see it go, he knew they’d been lucky to find it at all. He still wasn’t sure why the EMPs hadn’t knocked it out too, but assumed it had something to do with where it had been parked. The electro-magnetic pulses didn’t seem to have traveled well through lead.
Kenn steered the coasting vehicle deep into a thicket of piñons, glad to see the sky was beginning to lighten. The rain fell steadily, the woods dark, twisted shapes alongside the faint gray path of concrete as the two Marines loaded their things.
“All right, just like we talked about - never more than three feet away in any direction. Got it?”
Charlie nodded, still thinking about the battle that Kenn’s military mind had already forgotten - it had been justified, nothing to worry over. The boy’s heart wasn’t so clear, but he kept his mouth shut. Kenn was not his mother and he would not understand.
2
As they entered the city limits of Williamsburg, New Mexico, the sky lightened enough to really see, and the two males had too much time to dwell on each horribly vivid detail. There had never been a time for either of them (or the rest of the country) when even a single dead body had been left to decay on an American sidewalk or street. Now there were hundreds, thousands amid horrifically gruesome Christmas decorations, and if not for the constant gusts of wind, the smells would have been unbearable, even during winter.
It seemed like every business and home they passed had been destroyed or damaged, most with doors that had been kicked in. Almost nothing they passed was safe to take shelter in. That was another lesson they’d learned after Charlie had almost been stung by a scorpion when he picked up his canteen for a metallic-tasting drink of piss-warm water. They now watched out for little track marks in the dust: the indents telling them that snakes, scorpions, or spiders had taken over another of Man’s abandoned houses, driven up out of the ground months before they should have emerged. Most of these places would remain theirs forever. There weren’t enough people left to drive them out.
Relying on their training, the two males had been making camp with no fire and whatever was handy; wearing gloves and hats, extra pants and coats under their uniforms. Going very easy with their water, on the fourth day of being AWOL, they had gotten lucky, finding a store that was damaged (that kicked-in door again), but not cleaned out, and Kenn was relieved.
The feeling hadn’t lasted long. They only had a week’s worth of food and water, maybe two if they rationed, and the Marine had a feeling they might have to. The lack of rebuilding was a big sign of things to come. They hadn’t even seen a single person for the last three days, until tonight, and the rare flashes of light in the dark never lasted long enough to track. Hard times were here.
The two males pulled their hoods closer as drizzle started to sprinkle them. Kenn was glad it wasn’t that shit that burned - acid rain. That was something he’d heard about, but scoffed at…until he had a drop land in his eye. Then there was chemical rain, which they were getting now. Almost warm, it was flammable - a puddle would somet
imes catch fire from just a thrown cigarette.
The weather wasn’t the worst part of traveling now, but it had definitely slowed them down. They had only come 70 miles since ramming the dead fence to get out of the abandoned Military Installation, and they had made a lot of "We’ll let this storm move out." stops. The fury of nature came suddenly now, steady downpours of hot drops that made them itch, or full of little black flakes that resembled snow. Then, there would be brilliant, flashing lightning with loud, drumming thunder that promised damage…and then nothing but silence - all in the same hour. The only true constant was the wind and it blew sand and grit into everything.
As the thin, shadowy sun began to rise in the East, barely visible in the sky, Kenn finally sought shelter, exhaustion insisting. He stopped to look around, wincing at a loud crunch of gravel under the boy’s feet. They were almost out of the city limits now, back to Spanish pueblos and Rocky Mountains shadowing deep canyons full of sharp cliffs and rugged mesas. They would need some things before venturing any farther into that wilderness. First on the list was transportation.
“There’s our camp for tonight."
Eyeing the chaotic lanes of traffic on the hill across from them, Kenn sat on the bottom step of the neat front porch, as Charlie began dropping gear. Surely, there was juice in one of those batteries. It wouldn’t be any fun to clear the other cars and trucks out of the way, but they could be back on the road by tomorrow afternoon - maybe even reach NORAD by the end of next week.
“Door's unlocked." The boy’s tone was questioning.
Kenn yawned, rubbing at his stubbly, black goatee as he stood up. He drew his weapon as he went across the porch, the Marine ready to take over any occupants if it was necessary.
The door opened easily to reveal new paint, walls and floors without marks or imprints, no appliances, and most importantly, no footprints in the layer of dust that coated everything. He pointed these things out to the boy, teaching him patiently.
Kenn stepped back, held out the 9mm to the surprised cadet, who usually only touched a gun in class or competition. “Secure the perimeter."
The thin child took it eagerly, but with respect, snapping off a quick salute before disappearing inside.
Kenn broke into a reluctant smile at the careful copy of his own movements when they made camp each night. He didn’t follow, listening to the doors open and close. A minute later, the tall, thin teenager was back, returning the gun with longing on his face.
“All clear, sir."
Charlie stepped back out into the damp smell of smoke and rot to bring in their things, not waiting to be told. It was the way he had been raised (trained), but it was also to keep Kenny from seeing how much he had thought about pulling the trigger instead. He hated the Marine almost as much as his mom did. One day, when he older, Kenny would pay for every hit he’d ever delivered.
They climbed the muddy hillside to the interstate a short time later, being careful not to slip or look inside the cars unless they had to. Most were empty of their owners, but some were not, and Kenn thought he could tell which ones would be by the type of automobile. The newer, classier vehicles tended to be occupied. Running out of gas was not enough to make those materialistic people abandon their expensive autos. How long had they waited for help to come? A day? A week? In some cases, forever.
“What are we looking for?"
Kenn stomped thick, reddish-brown earth from his boots as he looked over the endless lanes of wrecked, sideways, mud-splattered vehicles. “We need new wheels, but beans, bags, and blankets are on the list too."
The boy nodded, moving to a nearby car as Kenn checked a beaten-up Dodge truck for power. He registered bullet holes, and suitcases still shoved haphazardly into back seats, and his stored the information. Kenn found a lot of clothes and personal items, along with a six-pack of bottled water he was glad to have, but the rest of the search went badly.
It had been less than a month, and he hadn’t expected car batteries to be dead out here too, but every one he checked was. There was gas… and useless keys in the ignitions of most. Doors left hanging open, as well as rusting bullet casings made him revise his theory. These people had left in a hurry.
“What about a dirt bike?" Charlie asked from a few vehicles away, voice echoing in the unnatural stillness.
Kenn moved his way. “Yes."
“It looks new."
The Honda’s key was in the ignition - like someone had tried to take it, but didn’t have time - and when the Marine turned the key backwards, the lights came on, gas gauge swinging to full.
Kenn grinned and pulled the keys out, sliding them into his pocket. “We won’t be on foot come..."
He stopped, listening hard. Had he heard something?
Yes. Engines. Still a mile, maybe more, and the Marine inside seemed to know that they meant bad news. “Get back to the house!"
Kenn slammed the hatch and grabbed the boy's arm, keeping his grip tight, as they ran down the slick, muddy embankment. He wasn't being careful now, just moving.
They hurried across the yard to the porch, and as the boy began to step up, Kenn pulled him back roughly. “We’re muddy. We’ll leave prints."
He sat on the bottom step, fingers flying over the laces of his boots, and Charlie jerked his off as the sound of engines grew louder, closer.
“What’s going on?"
Kenn shook his head distractedly as they moved inside and closed the door. “Stay below the windows and get your boots back on!"
The Marine was already doing his, and he frowned when the boy only stared at him questioningly.
“But, what’s…"
“Now!”
It was an order and the Cadet did as he was told, eyes hardening.
“Put our things in that closet and leave room for yourself behind them.”
Kenn turned back to the window, hoping all those vehicles weren’t coming here, to this town, to this house. Gunshots rang out, and he stayed low as the group came over the hill and into sight.
A muddy jeep with three clearly armed, dark-skinned men rolled into view first, leading two rusty pickup trucks flying a foreign flag. The men in the back held rifles and bottles. Behind them was a blue station wagon with dark-skinned women and children. Next, a U-Haul truck, a used Mustang, two long, filthy white passenger vans, a very nice, gold flecked convertible, and then bikes - more of those than anything else.
There were roughly a hundred armed men, and Kenn watched them ride closer, heart pumping and adrenaline flying. His well-trained eye picked out details most people would miss. Dark - not black, but Mexican or Cuban, jeeps of armed men, only that one wagon of women…and what was it about those white vans that bothered him so much?
Had he seen a flash of blond and silver? Hair and handcuffs? Kenn felt his gut tighten. Slavers. That’s why his stomach was a ball of liquid heat. They had been in the path of these invaders. If the truck hadn’t run out of gas, they would probably be in plain sight now. On this desolate stretch, and against so many, with no wheels of their own, there wasn’t even a chance. Death had missed them by a quarter tank.
The large group drove erratically, forcing each other to swerve and fishtail, bumping into one another, and easily avoiding the swampy area to the left of the interstate. That made Kenn worry they might be familiar with the area. He could only hope none of them would notice the new vehicle in the woods, or any of the deep footprints in the hillside.
Suddenly sure these men were responsible for the destruction in this area, Kenn kept his hand close to his M16, thinking he would save the last slugs for…
“Why don’t we tell them we’re here? Maybe they’d offer a ride."
The teenager’s tone was rebellious, and Kenn frowned, watching the drunken, careless men fire at trees, signs, cars, windows, and anything else that caught their eye - including the sparse houses. Bullets began slamming into the walls, shattering glass.
Kenn dropped to the dusty floor. “That’s the enemy, boy. Get
down!”
Not as experienced as the Marine, now that it had been pointed out, Charlie could feel them for what they were - evil. His affection for Kenn grew despite the anger inside. He needed the short-tempered Marine...he didn't have to like him.
Kenn marked the Slavers’ passage, and kept watching, even after they were out of sight and the sounds of their engines were gone. He was still watching when Charlie began dozing with his head against the bullet-riddled wall.
Kenn was worried. There was no way he could challenge or defend against a group of killers that large. He had to hope to sneak through the next couple of days without drawing any attention, though they would be on a loud dirt bike. Worried was an understatement.
However, he was also furious. A part of him was protesting just letting the foreign army continue their rampage. They didn’t belong here - were an affront to everything America had stood for. If he had half a dozen men from his base, he might risk his life and try to kill them all.
Better yet, give me two grunts and Marc Brady, Kenn thought, lighting a cigarette. Brady had been team leader for the last few years and a pain in his ass, but when it came to high-casualty ambushes, there was no one better.
The Marine blew out smoke rings, thinking they would head northwest when they left here, and then circle back to NORAD. It would add a lot of miles, but get them away from these men quickly. He didn’t want to think the Slavers had been following their back trail, but if they were, they would have to come to where they'd lost it - here. Kenn’s smile was icy. Maybe he could leave a surprise. He wouldn’t know if he got any of them, but it was still worth doing.
For the next few hours, he worked with the explosives he’d taken from the base, listening hard for the group of dangerous men to return. If that happened, they would all go up together in one big blaze of glory. The government compound was waiting for them. That was the direction he’d been heading each day, the most logical thing to do, but Kenn wasn’t sure if he was ready to be back under the rule of the government that had destroyed the world - and then left him behind to die in it - after all the years he had served them...killed for them. He still loved the Corps, would always believe in what it stood for. He just no longer trusted those in charge.