TRIAL: A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Thriller

by Murray Mcdonald

  ***

  “Colonel!” shouted the sergeant, bringing up the rear of the small group.

  Colonel Gratchick turned to face the sergeant he had known for over fifteen years. He didn’t need to ask him why he’d shouted. The situation more than explained itself. It was nearly a mile until they reached the tree line that would lead them into the woods at the back of Boise. Woods that stretched off into the wilderness for hundreds of miles. Their location atop the barren hillside offered little or no cover, other than the knee-high undergrowth. Useless against horse riders, who were barreling towards them and who were easily going to catch them before they reached cover.

  “Stand and fight?”

  Five nods were returned. Nobody was willing to surrender, given what they had just witnessed.

  They kneeled and readied themselves for the militia. Three semi-automatic rifles and three pistols pitted against twenty heavily-armed men on horseback, traveling at speed. They lined up their weapons,

  “Hold it,” steadied the Colonel.

  “Hold it,”

  “Fire!”

  ***

  As much as Bob wanted to be at the head of his posse, he knew that’s where he should have been. Leading the charge, the Duke leading his men on into battle. The reality of the situation was a little less cinematic. Bob was not the best of riders. At slow speeds, he was fine, but when the horses picked up the pace, he was unsteady and visibly nervous. It was for that reason and that reason alone that Bob survived the first volley of fire from the Colonel and his men.

  The front three riders fell as the first hail bullets were fired. The posse spread out across the hillside and barreled on relentlessly, the more accomplished riders firing back at the group of men, who against all sense, remained together. Shots were traded, Bob losing another three men while the Colonel lost four, leaving only the Colonel and a corporal out of ammo and facing Bob and thirteen of his men.

  Bob sloped off of his horse and walked towards the two men. The corporal threw himself at Bob with his rifle raised as a club. One of Bob’s men’s rifles kicked as a bullet tore through the corporal’s head. The corporal’s body slumped to the ground five feet from Bob.

  The Colonel raised his pistol and pointed it towards Bob.

  Bob ducked wildly. “Don’t shoot him!” he cautioned his men. “We want to know what he knows!”

  The Colonel smiled, turning the gun on himself.

  Bob raced to the Colonel, shouting at his men. “Stop him!”

  But it was too late. The Colonel’s pistol fired, his final round leaving Bob in a fury. He looked at the men lying before him, they were the brains, the knowledge behind what had transpired. His other posses were chasing the brawn. He had failed to capture the brains. He fired wildly into the bodies, emptying a magazine in total futility.

  Sporadic gunfire rang out across the city below. His men were doing their job, chasing down the survivors while he had failed in his; uncovering those behind the attack. Of course, the Colonel would have been key, but there were police officers and others involved. He wanted names, addresses, people he could drag into the street and make an example of and families that would suffer because of the actions of their husbands and fathers.

  He wanted revenge.

  Chapter 42

  Kate spun, her hand reaching for her holster as she reacted to the voice. Her hand dropped as she caught sight of the source of the voice. It wasn’t as she had feared, Trey and the militia. It was a group of her neighbors, shovels in hand.

  “We want to help,” said one man who Kate recognized, but did not know his name. She had seen him as she had driven through the estate, one of many people she knew to say ‘hi’ to when she’d seen him at the supermarket, but nothing more.

  “Thank you,” she said, genuinely surprised at the appearance of the men.

  “It’s been a trying few days,” the man offered by way of apology, or at least that was how Kate interpreted it. Perhaps their community wasn’t dead quite yet.

  The group assured Kate they would take it from there. The three men were to be taken to each of their respective homes and buried in their gardens, at least until things got back to normal. Not one person said that with any sense of feeling. It was clear, just as they approached one week in, the belief that the federal government, Army, or whoever, would ride into the rescue was becoming less and less likely.

  As the evening turned to night, the sporadic gunfire ended. Once again, the self-imposed nighttime curfew fell across Boise. Kate hunkered down with her kids, pulling the barricade across the door as planned. Sophie had begged for her to let Zach stay, but Zach’s parents wouldn’t be happy with the idea, despite the new sleeping arrangements, which ensured it would be a very innocent affair. She couldn’t blame them. Kate had a target on her back. Why would they allow their son to be in danger? In their favor, they had offered for Sophie to stay with them, even extending that to Ava and Danny but not, understandably given her current wanted status, to Kate.

  To their credit, including Sophie, they all wanted to stay with their mom. For once, they agreed. She was far more badass than Zach’s father who was a lovely man, but not a man you’d run to for help. Unlike their mom, she had kicked ass the night before and clearly, would do whatever it took to keep them all safe.

  ***

  Nick and Alex broke out of the woods and worked their way back towards their base above Warm Springs Mesa. They had made good time and managed to beat the sunset. Arriving just in time for Nick to witness Kate walking back into her house.

  “She must have just been practicing, she’s okay,” he said cheerfully to Alex.

  Alex raised his eyebrows to the sky. “We’ve just watched up to two hundred men being slaughtered, but you’re happy because your little woman made it home safe?”

  “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose it sounds a bit…” began Nick. Stopping mid-sentence. “What was that?”

  Alex didn’t answer. Nick tore himself away from the view below and turned to Alex. It was no surprise he couldn’t speak, a blade rested uneasily across his neck. An arm wrapped around his head, ensuring Alex didn’t make any stupid movements. Nick reached for his pistol, but stopped when Alex’s beaming smile lit up in the last wisps of sunlight.

  “Son of a bitch!” said Alex carefully. The edge of the razor-sharp blade cutting into his skin with every movement of his Adam’s apple. “Sean, is that you?”

  The blade was removed instantly in answer.

  Chapter 43

  DAY 14

  Kate was worried. She’d dressed Ava’s wound for the fifth time in as many days, but the redness was getting worse and there was some heat in the wound itself. Even more concerning was the fluid that seeped from the wound, its yellowish hue was getting stronger as was its pungency. It was definitely infected. She had tried the previous day to find antibiotics in the neighborhood, but whether there weren’t any or no one was willing to give up what they had, she wasn’t sure. Whatever the case, she needed to find some and quickly. She had hoped she was being overcautious the previous day but twenty-four hours later, her concerns were definitely well founded.

  The previous week had been quiet in the community, not something she could say about Boise itself. Gunfire had reverberated throughout the city furiously and by far more frequently than in the first week. The militia, it was rumored, was exerting its authority over what they had labeled ‘an attempted coup’. Of course, few failed to see the irony in their seizing power in exactly that way. A coup against the elected and legal authority in Boise on the first day of the outage.

  She couldn’t even remember which day it had been that she had given up hope of anyone coming to their rescue. Initially, she’d had her doubts but she had kept watching the highway at points throughout the day, willing something to move. But sometime over the last week, that had stopped. She couldn’t remember exactly when in the last few days she had stopped watching the road, but she had. Help wasn’t coming. They we
re on their own.

  “What’s wrong? asked Ava, as Kate seemed to drift off while changing her dressing.

  “Nothing, just thinking.”

  “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” asked Ava. “It’s not feeling any better.”

  “It’ll be fine, honey. Just need to keep changing the dressing,” she smiled. Of course, Sophie or Danny would have bought it, Ava definitely not. She was the smart one, the one you couldn’t bullshit, and unfortunately in this circumstance, the know-all. She was a walking medical encyclopedia and knew exactly the consequences from infections and sepsis.

  “We need antibiotics, don’t we?”

  Kate nodded. There was no point lying. Ava would just undress her wound and see clearly for herself. With a limited number of dressings, even that was a concern. She wouldn’t be able to keep dressing it each day.

  Zach’s arrival was Kate’s signal to undertake what she knew was going to be a dangerous journey, visiting the hospital. If anyone still had antibiotics, surely they would. She had heard how bad it was, but she had no option. She had to at least try.

  “Zach, would you mind if everyone went to your mom and dad’s?”

  Kate wasn’t ever going to leave the kids in the house alone. She knew the day would come when Trey would try again. When that day did come, she was ready and prepared. but her kids weren’t.

  “Of course, but is it okay to leave Hank here? My mom’s not a fan.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” agreed Kate, much to Danny’s disappointment. He had kept Hank by his side almost every second of the day since Harry’s death. He was a lovely old dog and his attachment to Danny was obviously helping with his loss of Harry, but Kate fully understood Zach’s mom. Hank stank.

  “Mom, what are you doing?” asked Ava.

  “I just need to go and check on an old friend.”

  Before Ava could argue, Kate was heading out of the door and climbing onto her bike. Her Walther PPQ was holstered on her hip and two spare magazines tucked into her belt. Her water bottle was half full. Her next concern, after getting antibiotics for Ava, was going to be finding fresh water, or at least drinkable water. They had rationed the bottled water they had as far as they could, but they really were getting down to their last reserves. She had heard from the few neighbors she had seen, that there was a stream just above the estate that flowed down to the river, but the biggest problem was transport. Water was heavy and the terrain to the stream only allowed access by foot.

  It had been over a week since Kate had left the estate. The gunfire and violence that had erupted after the attack on the militia had stopped all but vital excursions. She had considered taking a rifle with her, but the weight and conspicuousness felt wrong. Getting in and out under the radar was more important. Speed versus power.

  The cycle across the bridge and into Boise itself was a shocking transition. With the transformation from expansive suburb living to tight city living came the realities of large volumes of people living in a constrained environment. Trash lined the streets, and as the bags were split, they were ravaged by vermin and scavengers leaving remnants strewn across the street. The stench of old and rotting food mixed with what she could only imagine was human waste filled the air. She tried not to breathe as the smell of death began to overpower even the trash smell. She turned a bend in the road and the reason was strung up for her to see. Numerous bodies had been strung up. It was a truly hideous sight and clearly a warning from the militia of their power. Each of the bodies wore a uniform of some description, either military or law enforcement. The shootings over the last few days were explained in an instant. The militia was hunting down and killing anyone they perceived to be a threat.

  Kate pedaled on. The streets were empty, blinds and curtains twitched, but nobody dared come out of their homes. The stench of death pervaded the air. Boise was clearly in fear for its life. The family clinic was just beyond the shopping center where she had first encountered Bob, Trey, and their militia, two weeks earlier. She refused to look as she cycled past. It was just too sad.

  She reached the clinic, but it had been ransacked, its doors hanging uselessly from one hinge. She paused long enough to see a number of people, like her, making their way there, looking for help. Although, it was clear from the state of those trying to get there, they were in a far worse state of health than anybody she had seen up until that point. Young and old, they were struggling to walk, their bodies ravaged. They were like the people she’d watched on those charity ads in war-torn or drought-ridden countries that made your stomach churn, painfully thin and almost unable to support their own weight.

  Kate cycled on. A mother and young child were walking towards the clinic.

  “The clinic’s gone,” she offered, slowing as she passed them.

  Neither seemed able to lift their heads, they just turned and shuffled back the way they had come. Kate stopped and cycled back, but kept out of their reach. There was something very wrong with how they were moving.

  “Are you okay?”

  The mother used what seemed a huge amount of effort to stop and look at Kate. Her lips were painfully cracked. The daughter’s head lifted even slower, the lack of energy almost unable to lift her own head. Her lips too, were painfully cracked.

  “Water?” the mother said, the pain of the effort clear. She was looking at Kate’s bottle on her bike frame.

  Kate didn’t hesitate as she pulled it out of its holster and handed it over, careful not to touch or come in contact with the mother.

  The mother put the bottle to her daughter’s lips and let her sip some before taking some herself. Kate’s heart sank. The two of them were desperately ill.

  “What’s happened?”

  “We think it’s the water, so many people ill, dying. The river, it was the only source after the first few days.”

  “Oh, dear God,” replied Kate. She had passed over the river, but she hadn’t dared look down. The smell of the river was bad enough. She had heard that dead bodies were floating in there, but the smell itself had stopped her looking. It’d smelled like an open sewer. The people in the city had been drinking it. She had heard people would drink anything if thirsty enough. Surely they would have taken precautions, boil it, something.

  The woman offered more water to her daughter, and she took a bigger sip before her mother took more. She offered the bottle back to Kate. She held up her hand, “No, please keep it.”

  It wasn’t just that whatever disease was afflicting them would be all over the bottle, she genuinely wanted to help them and wished she could do more.

  “Thank you,” she said, shuffling away.

  “Where are you going to go?”

  “Home, nowhere else to go.”

  “What about the main hospital?”

  “Too far,” she said, shuffling away with her daughter.

  Kate watched them walk away, wishing she could do more. However, without knowing what was wrong with them, contact was not something she could risk, not just for her but for her family. Like the mother, she would have given her children the first drink and like the mother, she was sure, would not knowingly expose her children to illness.

  She watched them struggle for a minute, wishing there was something she could do. She cycled after them.

  “What’s your address?” she called from behind them.

  “Why?”

  “If I can get you anything at the hospital, I’ll bring it on my way back.”

  “And for daddy, too?” said the daughter. The first words she had uttered.

  The mother looked at Kate as her daughter spoke, the pain in her eyes and the short shake of her head were more than words could have ever portrayed. The father was dead, and from the pain, it was obviously very recently. Kate could only assume he, like the mother, had given what he could to save his wife and child and succumbed to the illness to save them, or the militia. However, the worry in the mother’s face suggested it was the illness, an illness that had killed her husband and s
he fully expected to kill her and her daughter. She gave Kate the address. Kate wouldn’t forget it. She’d do whatever she could to help. She turned and cycled away, praying to a god she had never forgiven since taking her husband from her.

  The smell of death and worse continued through the city. The signs of the militia also prevailed. Every so often, another street corner bore the brunt of their anger at the city’s attempt to overthrow them. The sight of more wasted souls shuffling began to build as she neared the hospital. The street signs directed her towards the main hospital. She turned the corner and was met by chaos. Hundreds, if not thousands of people sat hopelessly in a line that stretched off towards where the hospital signs directed. Young, old, babies, they all sat quietly, waiting, hoping that the line would move. The fact that the line even existed was testament more to the seriousness of their illnesses than to good manners. Most looked as though they wouldn’t make it the few hundred yards around the block. Kate stood out amongst them all. The city had been ravaged while the suburbs had persevered. She cycled on, assuring people as she went, that she wasn’t staying. She just needed to ask a question. When that upset a few of those in the line, she advised that she was just looking for someone to take them home and out of the line. That appeased everyone, one less in the line was good news.

  The sight that faced her as she turned the final corner was one she should have expected, but she was in America. A first-world country. A country that had everything. A country that could look after its people when in need. What faced her was bedlam. Tents and canopies covered a few beds, but mostly just mattresses on the wet ground. The stench was unbearable. The smell in the city had been bad but here, it was concentrated to the point that her eyes burnt from the strength of the odious smell. Medical staff wore biohazard suits, the few that were there, and clearly not enough to cope with the sea of patients that covered every inch of open space in front of the numerous hospital buildings. The area easily covered two football fields. Kate looked more closely at the ground. It hadn’t rained for days and it wasn’t wet anywhere else. She suddenly realized what it was and backed up. The entire area was swimming in it, the mattresses on the floor had no protection from it and soaked it up. The patients that lay on the beds barely moved, moans and groans and screams of pain filled the area. She hoped she would never see anything like it again in her lifetime. A lifetime. If this was what their new world was going to be like, she hoped it would end soon.