“What are we doing?”
“We’re getting out of here. Redmond and Nitro are dead.”
“What? What happened?”
“Christ, you should have seen what they did to Redmond. They tortured him to shit, man. Somebody put him out of his misery with a bullet to the brain. Savages, man. Damn!” The man’s voice was cracking. “We’re torching the place. The other house is already going.”
John looked to Helen and saw her mouth open, eyes filling with tears.
He looked at Morgan, whose eyes got big. He backed up from the door. John did the same. A loud whooshing sound came from the room above. Bright orange light tried to sneak its way through the creases in the floor door.
“Here, move that end table away.” Two men could be heard scooting the table. Its sound got louder. The men stopped when the desk was right over the rug and the door. Their single means of escape.
“Like kindling.” More laughter was heard.
The men in the room walked out and the sound of their footsteps faded toward the front door and disappeared. John heard the Humvees start up, then the crunch of dirt and gravel and the roar of engines as they left, back down the driveway.
They were gone.
John walked up to the door and pushed it. It wouldn’t budge. The popping of glass breaking got louder and became more frequent. The orange light became brighter and still tried to sneak its way through the creases, but wasn’t successful.
The smoke was.
Slowly, the red-lit room took on a haze.
John bent down and put his back to the bottom of the door, squatted down, and pushed up. The door wouldn’t move.
He tried again.
Nothing.
His house was on fire.
And they were trapped.
Chapter 38
“Dad, where the hell are we going? Why are we leaving? You haven’t said anything since we left!” Kat said.
Russell walked alongside Sims, both men with their rifles across their torsos. Kat was walking a few paces behind them.
“I already told you, Kat. They’re killers,” Russell said, frustrated.
“No, you haven’t. As a matter of fact, you haven’t said anything since we left. I asked you about ten minutes ago and you said nothing!” Her voice started cracking. “I walk out from Helen’s house – a sweet lady, I might add – and I see you with a gun pointed at John and Morgan, a mangled and tortured body inside the workshop, and you tell me to grab my things. Well, guess what, Dad? I don’t have anything! There was nothing for me to grab! Now, please, answer me!” Kat had broken down in tears.
Without answering her, Russell motioned for them to get down and out of sight.
They did.
They had passed the burnt and mangled remnants of the Harley Davidson that had crashed into the tree and burst into flames telling Russell they were close to North Bend Way. They had not come across one single zombie or person. They had had the entire trail to themselves.
Until now.
Russell heard the sound of a helicopter coming from the west and getting louder. It had that familiar chop and whoop sound that a military helicopter would make.
He snuck a peek out of the trees. A small black dot was just above the trees to the west, about three hundred yards and coming their way fast.
As it banked to its left over their heads, Russell could see a manned side-mounted gun passing over them. The helicopter was heading straight toward John’s and Frankie’s places.
“Shit, they’re going to John’s house, Russ.” Sims walked to the trail and stood next to Russell, with Kat standing beside them.
“Well, I’m not going to let them hurt Helen.” Kat started walking back down the trail at a quick pace.
“Kat, get back here!” Russell yelled.
“No!”
“Now, Kat, or – ”
“Or what, Dad? You’ll ignore me? Not answer my questions? What? Or else what, Dad? Huh?” Kat shook her head and put her hands on her hips.
Russell didn’t answer her. He just stared at her, knowing she was right.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, then started walking.
The distant sound of machine gun fire sounded.
“Ah, damn it!” Sims looked down the trail and took off at a run, catching up with Kat. “They’re going to kill them!”
Russell went to yell at them, but what was the use? He couldn’t stop them. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t do much of anything right now except run with them.
He caught up with them as they ran back down the trail toward the bridge. As they were just yards from the road, five vehicles drove down Mount Si Road, heading toward John’s and Frankie’s. The little light that was left allowed Russell to see the silhouettes of the vehicles as the turret-mounted Humvees drove past.
Five of them.
“You see that, Russell?” Sims yelled over his shoulder.
“Yeah! Manned Humvees. We don’t have the firepower to stop them!”
“Screw this!” Sims took off at faster run, outpacing both Kat and Russell. He reached the end of the trail and turned right toward the bridge.
Russell looked to the north and saw a column of billowing black smoke. No, make that two of them. He tried to tell himself that it was something other than the two houses, but there was nothing else out here that would burn like that.
They ran across the bridge and the same helicopter flew back over them, heading south toward North Bend. Russell jumped to the right side just past the bridge and took cover in some trees. They worked their way back further for better concealment. A few seconds later, the same five Humvees drove back down the road toward them and disappeared around the turn and out of sight.
Russell turned to Sims. “Okay, let’s go check on them. You follow me on the road, but keep it close to the side in case we have to take cover.” To Kat, he said, “Sweetie, I want to stay here, okay?” Kat started to protest, but Russell continued, “Trust me on this! I want you out of sight and hidden. Don’t move until we get back. We don’t know what we’ll find and there’s only two guns. If people start firing, we’ll be outgunned and I don’t want you out there, especially without a weapon.”
“No, Dad! What if you both get killed? What the hell will I do then?”
Russell shook his head. “It’ll be better this way. And we’ll talk when I get back, okay?”
Kat just stared at her father, then said, “Okay. Just…be careful, okay? Promise me?”
Russell nodded. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”
The two men ran down road, Kat looking on after them, not seeing that one of the Humvees had turned back around and was now parked at the beginning of the bridge.
Chapter 39
Cindy stood, staring at Boogie, the gun still pointed down at him. She took a few deep breaths. She heard a branch crack somewhere from deep within the woods and froze. She lowered herself and listened. She waited a few minutes to see if the sound repeated itself, but nothing happened.
She brushed her hair to the side with her free hand then wiped sweat off her forehead. She holstered the Glock and grabbed the keys out of Boogie’s right front pocket. Next, she picked up his rifle and backpack but left the fishing poles, and walked to the Charger, about fifty yards from where Boogie’s body lay.
She stowed the rifles in the trunk and threw Boogie’s backpack into the backseat, then got into the driver’s seat. She sat there for a few seconds trying to collect her thoughts, letting the adrenaline slow so she could think clearly about what had transpired over the last several hours.
As soon as she had seen John and everyone coming back with Redmond and the other operative, she knew there was trouble on the horizon. She had gone outside under the guise of picking vegetables and done her best to find out what John and Morgan were doing with Redmond and that other operative.
She had seen Russell and Sims banging on the front door, so she had made sure to stay more toward the eastern side of t
he structure, well hidden. She had listened as much as the corrugated steel-sided workshop would let her. The other operative had given up the fact that they were there to retrieve their contact, Raider. He had mentioned that he didn’t know his name.
His name.
The operative was under the assumption that Raider was a guy. That’s when Cindy had come up with an idea.
Get Boogie alone, kill him, then make it look like he was Raider, and since John and Morgan already suspected him, it might be more believable. Of course, she just had to make sure she played stupid like she had been doing for the last two years. Boogie getting antsy and wanting to go fishing had happened at the right time.
She had to admit, killing Boogie had been very difficult. She had grown fond of him over the last year since meeting him in Texas, and thought, under different circumstances, she might have been able to marry someone like him.
But The Bern Project was more important than her feelings about any man. It had always been that way. Mission first.
For the last fifteen years, Cindy had been one of this country’s best covert operatives, having inserted herself into many parts of the world, with a focus on the Middle East, blending in, absorbing the culture, picking up the habits and languages of the natives and doing what needed to be done.
This was her first domestic operation and she had been in deep cover for well over a year, having been deployed to west Texas to take on the role of a dumb blonde bimbo who was good for one thing.
When she had met Boogie, she had scoffed at it at first, not wanting to mix relationships with the mission, but part of her job was to blend in. There’s no way a woman like Cindy would not have a boyfriend or partner: blonde hair, blue eyes, Nordic features and an athletic build. It would have been suspicious.
So, she had dated Boogie and found him to be enjoyable, if a little aloof. She had used him to learn the habits and pick up the accent of Texans, which she did without effort, but then found herself liking his company.
It was assumed her area of operation – post First Phase – would be Texas. But when Boogie had mentioned a road trip to Seattle for their marijuana festival, she had an idea and reported this to General Woods. He had been apprehensive at first about bringing a civilian along, but when she mentioned how nobody would suspect a ditzy blonde Texas girlfriend, it might help her cover. Besides, she knew Redmond and knew that no operatives were in the Pacific Northwest. General Woods had agreed.
She looked at herself in the mirror of the Charger and realized she looked fine. Too fine. If she went back now and tried to claim that Boogie had tried to kill her, they’d look at her injury-free body and start to question what had happened.
She would have to make this believable. “Just do it,” she said to herself.
The doing part was going to be painful but she would have to suck it up.
She thought about all the zombies attacking people, the shootings, the fires…then it dawned on her.
She got out of the Charger and unholstered her Glock. She walked over to the restrooms and leaned back against the wall for support. Christ, this will be painful, she thought. She raised the Glock and turned it around so the barrel was facing her. She lowered it and pressed it against her right arm, just on the outside.
Breathe!
Cindy closed her eyes and put a slight pressure on the trigger. Slowly, the trigger squeezed back toward the trigger guard. The familiar mechanical sound of a firing pin pulling back slowly echoed through her head.
Do it!
She pulled the trigger and a loud booming sound echoed. Her ears rang and an immense burning sensation seized her arm.
She dropped the gun to the ground and threw her left hand over her arm, blood pouring through her fingertips. She looked down and saw a large chunk of flesh missing from her arm. There were red and black streaks showing the aftermath.
She fell to her knees and yelled out, tears forming in her eyes.
Cindy took several deep breaths, keeping pressure on her arm. She ran to the car and looked at herself in the driver side mirror. Aside from her arm, there were no marks anywhere else on her body. Would they believe that she was just grazed on the arm and happened to escape with no other injuries? Probably.
She jumped into the seat, started the car with her left hand and used the same hand to throw it in reverse. It was getting dark, so she flicked the lights on and tore out of the parking lot. She headed back home toward safety and sympathy.
He was an animal! He tried to kill me! she would say.
Oh, god, Cindy, are you okay? Helen would ask.
She started to smile at her ingenious plan and how good an operative she was turning out to be.
She looked at herself in the rearview mirror, her complexion taking on a gray pallor from the pain. Perfect, she thought.
She thought about her relationship with Boogie and what she would do without him. Would her plan work? Would they believe her?
She forced a smile onto her face, but deep down something was nagging at her and she couldn’t figure out what it was. Did she forget something? Some minor detail? Forgetting something small could have big consequences. Her instincts told her something was wrong, but time was of the essence.
It was too late now, she thought.
Cindy continued down the mountainside, failing to realize that she should have trusted her instincts.
Chapter 40
John held the wet rag to his mouth as he breathed, trying his best to keep the smoke from getting into his lungs.
Both he and Morgan pounded on the door, pushing, trying everything they could in the small space to get it open. It moved more the longer and harder they pushed, but was still a long way from opening.
They needed time they didn’t have.
Frankie and Helen started moving items toward the back of the armory, especially the ammo. They didn’t want anything to catch on fire while they were trapped.
All of them were having to take breaks from what they were doing so they could cough and retch, the byproduct of the struggle to get air.
John figured they had about ten minutes before they were dead. They had to get that door open. He pushed harder, slamming his palm to the bottom of the door over and over again.
Nothing.
Morgan got off the stairs and ran back down by Frankie and Helen, bent over and started dry heaving.
John felt himself gagging, losing strength, losing hope.
He took a slow deep breath and held it in, dropped the rag, and used both hands to push and slam into the door. Every last bit of his strength was being used up as he held his breath.
Slam!
Every attempt went unanswered, and with it, his last remaining piece of hope.
* * *
“Sims, go check Frankie’s house! I’ll take John’s!” Russell shouted as he ran down the driveway. The darkening sky was filled with an orange light from the glow of the raging fires.
“No! Frankie’s place is gone, Russ.”
“They couldn’t have survived this shit, Sims,” Russell said, and he was right. The entire ten acres was an inferno. Frankie’s house, garage, greenhouse, vehicles…everything was fully engulfed in flames. John’s house had dark smoke pouring from the windows, with the structure about one quarter gone. The workshop was ablaze, the sliding doors open and both bodies sat in their chairs, burning. Intermittent groans and squeals came from the workshop as various metals, woods, and other materials fell victim to the intense heat.
“Dollars to doughnuts, they took off into the woods!” Sims yelled.
“Still have to check.” Russell stopped about twenty feet from the front door and bent down, his shadow dancing across the gravel from the lapping flames coming from John’s roof. He grabbed a spare shirt and poured water on it and pushed it to his face.
Sims did the same and they left their guns and backpacks on the driveway as they ran inside.
The heat became intense as they entered the front door. Black smoke sw
am its way across the ceiling in all directions and was starting to float its way down. Russell crouched down, keeping his head well below the smoke cloud and ran into John’s bedroom. The walls glowed from dancing flames as they snaked their way up the sides, tickling the ceiling.
Nobody.
Russell then ran to the other bedroom and saw the same thing.
This is hopeless, he thought.
If they were alive, they wouldn’t have stayed inside the house. They were either dead, somewhere out in the woods, or down by the river. Still though, Russell felt he had to check. He had no idea why, but something told him he had to keep going. Maybe it was the hope of rescuing them so his daughter would be proud of him, because, let’s face it, it was a difficult time, and he felt his daughter losing faith in him with his choices.
Russell ran into John’s den. The heat from the burning desk threw him back a bit.
“We have to get out of here, Russ. They’re not here!” Sims yelled from the hallway.
Russell heard Sims’ heavy footfalls getting closer as he reached the den. He felt Sims grab him by the shoulders and yank him back.
“Now, Russ! Move!”
Russell was turning to follow Sims out the door when he heard several knocks.
“Wait, Sims! I hear something.”
* * *
Kat sat down about ten yards from the corner of the road and rested her back against a large Douglas fir tree, the crushed ferns beneath acting as a cushion. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling weak and tired. She rested her chin on her arms and starting sobbing.
Everything they had gone through had caught up to her. Zombies, her nice neighbors, running away, Christie getting attacked, getting rescued by John and Morgan, her dad’s silent treatment…her runaway mom. It was all coming to a head and she knew it.
She closed her eyes, hoping to god her father was okay. Sims too, of course; he was like an uncle to her and she loved him like one. What the hell would she do without them? She had zero survival skills, no food, no water, no weapons. She was alone and it didn’t feel good.
Inception_The Bern Project Page 29