Best Laid Plans (Book 5): Determination

by Nathan Jones

  Not too long after that the medic straightened, flashlight clenched between his teeth which he took out to talk. “Just bruising,” he said. “Lucky for you, since rifle rounds can sometimes penetrate body armor. You're going to look like you got walloped with a baseball bat, and you'll probably have trouble bending or twisting once the adrenaline wears off and you really start feeling it. But it shouldn't bench you.”

  “Thanks.” The man nodded and moved over to check on Alice, who was hovering near Rick watching anxiously.

  Trev wanted to go off on his own, somewhere he could escape the reality of the situation and the suffering of his friends and just wallow in guilt. Instead he went around to each squad mate and spoke to them quietly for a moment, making sure they were as good as they could be mentally as well as physically.

  The medics had given everyone but Rick and Mason a clean bill of health, and were getting those two ready to move by the time Davis showed up. The sergeant offered his condolences, but also congratulated them on their bravery and what they'd accomplished with the ambush, despite how it had turned out. He also assured them that another squad of volunteers had been sent out to watch the area they'd been assigned to guard, to give them the time they needed to regroup.

  Then he pulled Trev and Matt aside. “I've decided what to do,” he said without preamble.

  Trev stared at him blankly. “What to do?”

  “About the blockheads encroaching on our territory,” Davis said patiently. “What we talked about a few days ago. I've decided what we're going to do about it.”

  “What about tonight?” Matt asked.

  “Tonight's part of it.” Davis clapped them both on the shoulder, starting to turn them around. “Go see to your wounded and get your people settled in for the night. In the morning I'm going to meet with all the leaders, military as well as irregulars. Trev, I'd like to talk to you before then.”

  And just like that the sergeant walked off.

  Matt turned from watching Davis leave to look at Trev. “Listen, I figure you guys left your stuff back at your camp. I don't think you want to be hiking there in the dark. Stay with us, we'll scrounge up some sleeping arrangements for you.” He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “And I'll take care of radioing the town about the people we lost tonight.”

  Trev balked. “It's my duty to inform their loved ones. I owe them that.”

  His friend gripped his arm. “Are you sure?” Trev nodded firmly, and he sighed. “All right then. But first get your squad together. We'll worry about the rest once we've got you all settled in and done what we can for Rick and Mason.”

  He couldn't argue that. With a weary nod he followed Matt back to the truck.

  * * * * *

  Lewis knew from the moment a grim Chauncey called in to tell him Trev was on the radio that the news wasn't good.

  He knew he had no chance of getting back to the town's refuge in time to talk to his cousin himself, but he still told the retired teacher he was on his way to hear the news personally. Chauncey acknowledged that, then signed off with uncharacteristic abruptness. Was the news really that bad?

  Leaving Jane in charge of the defenders guarding the canyon and surrounding area, Lewis broke into a run back for camp. He wanted to cover the hour's walk in a more reasonable time, and for more reason than so he could get back to his duties faster.

  The refuge was quiet this time of night, almost everyone already asleep. Candles and other forms of light were in short supply, and while some people huddled around campfires talking quietly, most preferred to get up at the first sign of light in the morning instead. Firewood needed to be gathered, and if they were going to sit around a fire they might as well be cooking breakfast at the same time.

  It was hard to see just how large the camp was, sprawling up the tree-lined slope. The townspeople had cleared away the deadfall and undergrowth for room, but hadn't chopped down a single one of the trees that sheltered them from view. Lewis wove through the tents and trees to one of the few clearings, where the town's meager supply of solar panels had been arrayed to catch as much sunlight as possible. The radio and a few other useful electronics were set up in a small pavilion, under one of the trees at the clearing's edge.

  He found Chauncey there, along with Mayor Tillman and a few others. To his surprise Edna was with her husband, and their son Wes. The former teacher's face was gray in the light of a few strings of LED Christmas lights, and Edna looked as if she'd been crying.

  “What happened?” Lewis asked as he joined the somber group.

  Catherine stepped over to him. “Trev's squad got hit hard. Some sort of failed ambush. Five people died, and Rick and Mason were hurt.”

  Lewis glanced over at the Watsons. “I'm sorry. Is Rick hurt bad?”

  “He could be worse,” Chauncey said heavily. He met Lewis's eyes. “Tom was one of the people we lost.”

  That hit him hard. Tom Harding had come to be a good friend, as well as someone the shelter group could rely on. Lewis sank onto one of the camp chairs set up around the radio, listening mutely as Chauncey relayed Trev's grim message as close to word for word as he could.

  Once the man finished Lewis looked around reluctantly. “Has anyone told Alvin?”

  Chauncey shook his head. “Catherine's agreed to go inform the families of the other four volunteers,” he said quietly. “But we figured since Alvin's part of your group, and you insisted on returning to the refuge . . .”

  “Right.” Lewis nodded, sighing. “I'll go talk to him.” In many ways Alvin was practically family. He deserved to have the news delivered as gently as possible.

  Lewis stood to leave, but paused to hug Edna and grip Wes and Chauncey's shoulders. “Our prayers go with Rick,” he said quietly. They nodded their thanks, and Lewis turned and slipped out of the faint blue glow of the LEDs, heading in the direction of the shelter group's section of camp.

  Linda was keeping watch over their tents and supplies when he walked in, and he was greeted by a flashlight to the face. “Lewis? What are you doing here so late?” his cousin asked. He could hear a frown in her voice. “I thought you were living over by the canyon these days.” Her tone abruptly spiked in alarm. “Has something happened? Is Dad okay?”

  “Uncle George is fine, and so is everyone else out with the defenders.” Lewis hesitated. “There's bad news from Trev. I'll tell you about it later.”

  He started past her, but the brown-haired young woman caught his arm. “He's okay, right?”

  “He's fine.” Lewis disentangled himself. “Later.” He could feel her eyes on his back as he made his way over to the tarp hung up against the tent housing Jane's group. Beneath it Alvin's sleeping bag was laid out, his friend asleep in it.

  Lewis crouched over him, feeling a moment of anguish at how young Alvin looked. Too young to be an orphan. He hesitantly reached out and shook his shoulder. “Hey.”

  Alvin started awake. “What? Lewis?”

  “I'm here.” Lewis reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flashlight, pressing it into his friend's hand as he pushed his goggles up to his forehead. A moment later he was treated to another face full of blinding light.

  His friend seemed to immediately realize why Lewis was there by the look on his face. “No,” he said, dropping the flashlight and starting to scramble out of his bag.

  Lewis backed away slightly to give him room. “I'm sorry, Alvin. Just before nightfall Trev's squad ambushed a blockhead patrol, and your dad-”

  “No!” The young man bolted out the back of his crude lean-to and disappeared barefoot into the woods, the word a drawn out cry of grief.

  He was slow to push to his feet, staring after his friend. Did he follow him? Leave him to his grief? He could understand Alvin wanting to be alone, but it didn't feel right to let him sit out there in the darkness hurting like that.

  With a sigh Lewis crouched to retrieve his flashlight, then started in the direction Alvin had gone. He figured the light was a good compromise, givi
ng the young man plenty of time to see him coming and avoid him if he really wanted to.

  It turned out Alvin didn't. Lewis went less than twenty feet before he found his friend sprawled beneath a tree, wiping at a bloody scratch on his cheek. Or maybe at the tears that flowed freely from his eyes. He quietly stepped over to sit close by, then flicked off the flashlight and waited silently.

  “I wanted to go with him,” the young man finally said in a small voice. “It's just the two of us, we're all each other has. I didn't want to let him go off on his own when I could help him. I mean he wouldn't let me go when you guys attacked the raider camps, and he nearly got blown up. He should've let me go this time. Maybe if I'd been there . . .”

  Lewis couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound asinine. “He wanted you to be safe,” he finally tried.

  Alvin laughed, or maybe sobbed, but didn't answer. Another silence fell, once that stretched for long minutes.

  Finally Lewis reluctantly pushed to his feet and dropped his goggles back over his eyes. “I need to get back,” he said regretfully. “If there's anything I can do for you, Alvin, let me know.”

  “There is,” the young man said, gingerly standing as well because of his bare feet. “I want to go with you. Be one of your volunteers fighting the blockheads.”

  Lewis winced. “You know I can't say yes to that.”

  Alvin did his best, but he looked more sullen than defiant. “Why not?”

  “For the same reason I couldn't before, you're too young. Besides, you just lost your dad. I'm afraid you might not be in the best mental state.”

  “BS. Pete and Alice are only a few months older than me, and both lost their parents. Pete fought the raiders right after losing his dad.”

  It was hard to argue the first point. As for the second . . . “You know Matt reassigned Pete to camp because he was losing it.” Alvin's determined look turned miserable, and Lewis sighed. He really didn't want to leave his friend alone out here. “I'll tell you what. The defenders do need more people. We're running ourselves ragged keeping up on sentries and patrols, and volunteers are few and far between.”

  Alvin brightened. “Really?”

  “You won't be doing anything dangerous,” Lewis warned. “At least not unless things go seriously south. But you can help out keeping watch on the enemy.”

  He handed the young man his flashlight, and Alvin flicked it on and followed. With his friend close on his heels Lewis led the way down the slope towards their camp, so he could relay the night's news to everyone else as well as so his friend could pack up his things. And get some shoes on.

  “Lewis?” Alvin asked quietly after a few feet. “How-how did he die?”

  Lewis slowed to let him catch up. “According to Trev, Alice got shot while everyone was making a last dash to safety. Your dad turned back to help her.”

  “So he died a hero, right?”

  Lewis put an arm around his friend's shoulders. “Absolutely,” he said quietly. “The same way he lived.”

  * * * * *

  The next morning Trev woke to the sound of familiar voices shouting.

  Alice and Pete. After everything that had happened last night they were still doing this? Trev growled in annoyance and climbed over Matt, gritting his teeth as his bruised muscles rebelled. Ignoring the pain, he awkwardly unzipped the flap and stepped into his boots in a crouch at the doorway.

  In spite of the noise Matt just mumbled something and rolled over, going back to sleep. Probably the more sensible choice.

  The two squads had made a temporary campsite near the top of the south slope of the canyon, above where Davis had built his new camp. Last night Matt's squad mates had brought their camping gear from the camp they'd set up farther south, in the area they'd been assigned to guard, so Trev's squad would be able to sleep closer to Rick and Mason. They'd massively inconvenienced themselves to make that kind gesture, and Trev was grateful for their thoughtfulness.

  Although he could've done without this. “Give it a rest, you two,” he snapped at the young couple, who were standing just outside camp, features washed pale in the predawn glow. Both turned to glare at him.

  After a few brittle seconds Alice sniffed. “Whatever. I don't have anything else to say anyway.” She turned towards the tent Scott had given up for her to share with Susan.

  Pete stared after her, then turned to glare at Trev again. “You should've let me join your squad. I could've protected her and she wouldn't be taking Rick's side over me.”

  What in the world was going on with those three? Trev resisted the urge to rub his forehead. “And that's what matters right now, huh?” he asked.

  “It matters to me. But I guess you never cared about that.” The young man turned and stomped back down the slope towards the main camp.

  With a sigh Trev headed the same way, but not to follow his friend. He wanted to check on Rick and Mason, then report in to Davis as ordered.

  His two squad mates were sleeping soundly in one of the medical tents when he arrived, and a whispered word with the medic on duty assured him that both were recovering well and out of danger. He shook the man's hand in thanks, opting not to wake his friends, and continued on to the smaller, more patched tent that served as Davis's new command tent.

  He found Trent Lincoln waiting outside it, and his friend immediately waved and started his way. Trev waved too, although a bit more cautiously. “If you're here with a message from Vernon . . .”

  Trent shook his head. “What could he say, after last night?” The man looked in the direction of the tents for the wounded, then higher up the slope at where the Aspen Hill volunteers had set up their impromptu camp. “I'm not sure what to say myself. I'm sorry, Trev.”

  Trev bit back a sharp reply. His friend hadn't made the decision to leave them to the wolves. “I appreciate that.” He started to say more, then thought better of that too and just fell silent.

  After an awkward silence Trent jumped slightly as if remembering. “Oh! If you're just up you probably haven't heard, but we recovered the bodies of all your squad mates.” He gestured down towards the road. “They're waiting for you to pay your respects whenever you feel ready.”

  Trev wasn't sure he'd ever feel ready to face the people he'd let down, but he nodded and started down the slope. Davis could wait.

  To his surprise Trent tagged along. After walking for half a minute his friend cleared his throat. “It looks like you were right about Fred. I mean, I thought I'd gotten to know him pretty well, but this? I-I can't believe he would . . . that he . . .” he shook his head. “It's messed up, man.”

  “Yeah.” Trev didn't really want to talk about it.

  Trent caught his arm. “I came with Vernon this morning so I could ask Davis to reassign me. I can't fight beside people I don't trust to have my back.” He hesitated. “Can I join your squad?”

  Well that was a surprise. Trev hadn't expected anyone to want to serve under him after the mess he'd made of things yesterday. “If it's fine with Davis I'd be happy to have you.”

  The man smiled in relief. “Good. I'll, uh, leave you to . . .” he trailed off awkwardly. “You know.”

  “Yeah. You know where to find us.” Trev offered Trent his hand, then kept going down the slope as his friend headed back up to the command tent.

  Abrams or whoever had recovered his friends had arranged them in a neat line beside the road, wrapped in shrouds of plastic and tape with just their faces uncovered. Trev stopped beside each one, bowing his head and whispering a quiet apology. He stayed by Tom longest of all, thinking of Alvin and everyone in the shelter group who was grieving for him this morning.

  After a while he went and sat on one of the wooden beams holding up a guard railing, which wrapped around a curve in the highway not far away. From there he kept a silent vigil over his squad mates, and to be honest he was glad to have some time to himself.

  The sun had risen its own height above the tip of the northern slope, which blocked his vi
ew of the valley to the east, when he heard the rumble of trucks. From the other direction he heard the crunch of feet on gravel, and turned to see Davis and a few of his soldiers walking up the side of the road to greet the approaching vehicles. Along with Vernon.

  Trev stiffened when he saw the former sheriff, but if he'd planned to avoid him it was too late. “I was expecting you to come see me,” Davis called as the group approached, “but this'll work too.” He motioned for his soldiers to keep going while he stopped beside Trev. Along with Vernon.

  “Were we expecting those trucks?” Trev asked, avoiding looking at the sergeant's companion.

  Davis nodded. “More reinforcements. Sixty volunteers from the civilian camp up north that General Erikson's men have been training, as well as another squad of Marines and some specialists. I told the General I needed more people to be effective in this area.”

  Six squads would certainly help lighten the load when it came to defending this stretch. They'd be able to double up on more areas, giving the sentries and patrols there a chance for twelve hours on and twelve off. Definitely preferable to just having two lookouts at night, with the rest expected to wake up and fight at a moment's notice. They might even be able to field more flex squads, to be ready to go where they were needed in case of an attack.

  “We can definitely use them.” Trev held the sergeant's eye. “What did you need me for?”

  Davis's expression turned stern. “First off, I hear you hit Mr. Vernon. I think you owe him an apology.”

  “He did nothing while five of my people died,” Trev said, doing his best to keep his tone level. “I think he owes me an apology. Or maybe one directly to the families of the people I lost.”

  “Well look at that,” Vernon said, taking off his hat and slapping it across his arm. He wouldn't meet Trev's eye. “The guy who doesn't like me is blaming me for what went wrong last night. Go figure.”