“Are we in a goddamn zoo?” Collin asked.
She stifled a laugh. “They’re Eagles, so they prey on Vipers.”
“So we’re in Mexico?”
Anna gave him a quizzical look.
“Eagle and viper, just like the Mexican flag.”
“No,” Anna said with a smile, slightly embarrassed she didn’t get the reference right away.
Gunshots rang out and they heard footsteps pounding in the stairwell again. No one passed by their room.
“So, who are the good guys?” Collin watched Anna closely to gauge her reaction.
“I suppose that depends on how you define ‘good’,” she said. “You killed those men upstairs. Are you good?”
Collin frowned. Then he grunted. “I’d like to think so.”
Before he could add anything else, they heard a crash like breaking glass. An orange burst cast shadows at weird angles.
Anna gasped. Collin turned back to the door, expecting it to burst open at any moment.
When nothing happened, he crawled forward within arm’s reach of the door and peered over the edge of the windowsill.
“Fire,” Collin said with a curse.
“We need to get out of here now,” said Anna.
“Lead the way.”
“We need to find my mother. She’s the only one who can help you.”
That struck Collin as odd, but no more so than anything else since he woke up.
Collin pulled the door open and cleared the hall - no one.
He waved Anna out. She followed him into the hallway, stepped past him and led the way out.
The two of them ran down a hallway, turned right, passed through a large set of double doors, down another stairwell, and out a side door.
As soon as they emerged from the door, lights blinded them.
Collin held up his free hand to block the light, but it seemed to come from every direction.
Two men approached him with rifles raised; one on either side of him in an amateurish flanking maneuver. Big mistake.
Collin launched into an attack. In the back of his mind, he heard a voice, “Strike first, strike hard. No mercy.”
He grabbed the rifle barrel of the man on his left and yanked it up as he sidestepped to avoid being shot by his teammate. His next step led him into a short kick to the side of the man’s leg. Collin heard a pop as tendons and ligaments snapped apart.
With a grunt of pain, the man collapsed to his good knee.
The other man held his fire for fear of shooting his buddy. He was frozen in place just like Collin expected, as worthless as a crumbling statue.
Collin kept moving. He pivoted behind the man, pulling the rifle out of his loosened grip, tossing it aside, and drawing out the man’s pistol from its thigh holster.
Anna rushed to stand in front of the frozen gunman. She held her hands out to keep him at bay.
“Collin, please stop,” she said. The concern in her eyes looked genuine.
With the first man down and Anna blocking his way, Collin stood exposed to the second gunman. He also had to consider who might be behind the blinding lights.
Only one option left.
He lunged forward and wrapped an arm around Anna. His pistol aimed at her head.
“Wha- What the...” she sputtered, slapping at his arm in a weak attempt to free herself. “What are you doing? Let go of me.”
“Drop it!” unseen men yelled in unison.
One shouted, “Let her go!”
“Drop the gun,” another said.
Several soldiers advanced into the light, so Collin could see them. They all had rifles trained in his direction, though he doubted any of them had enough skill to shoot him without hitting Anna. He hoped she was too valuable to sacrifice.
Collin kept his head low to reduce his profile. He ignored their commands and backed up a few steps, pulling Anna along with him.
“Gentlemen, please,” a smooth voice said.
Collin lifted his head slightly to look over Anna’s shoulder, as a man moved into the light with his hands raised. They were empty.
The man motioned the others to lower their rifles and step back. They obeyed without a word.
He looked directly at Collin with a piercing gaze and strode forward another step.
“Mr. Collin War, my name is Pastor Paul Pendell, and if you ever want to see your family again you will drop that weapon.”
Chapter Two
A man in black attire, wearing a small white band where a tie would normally go, stood before Collin with his hands outstretched.
Collin looked him up and down. Then he studied the man’s dark, weathered face. Freckles dotted his cheeks, a feature he hadn’t seen before on a black man. His dark curls were cut short, and featured a healthy mix of gray hair that was also reflected in his well-trimmed goatee.
Their eyes locked.
“Please, Mr. War,” said Pastor Pendell. “There’s no need for you to hold the good lady hostage. Please put the gun down and walk with me. We have a lot to discuss.”
The pastor continued forward. Collin narrowed his eyes.
Everyone else backed away, fading into the darkness behind the lights, but Collin knew a dozen or more men stood nearby, ready to kill him.
“Can we talk, Mr. War?” He took another slow step toward Collin.
“Please, Collin. Just talk to him,” said Anna, struggling under the pressure of Collin’s forearm on her slender neck.
“Quiet,” he told her.
Pastor Pendell held a hand out toward Anna. “Can we let the lady go? Hold on to your gun if you must. But let’s be civil, shall we?”
Collin could see what the pastor was doing. It only took a moment for him to calculate his odds.
Collin dropped his arm from Anna’s neck. In a brief flurry of motion, he locked the slide back, ejected the chambered bullet from his pistol, and squatted down behind Anna to set the gun down to his right. Collin stood back up with his hands raised before the bullet stopped rolling on the pavement.
Pastor Pendell’s face lit up with the most grandfatherly smile imaginable. Anna took the pastor’s outstretched hand and he guided her gently past him. Two armed men rushed out to escort her to safety. Pastor Pendell never took his eyes off Collin, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed.
Collin stood relaxed. He lowered his arms to his sides and looked curiously at the man before him. Something about Pendell didn’t sit right with him. But he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
“Like I said, I’m Pastor Pendell. Nice to meet you, Mr. War,” he said as he extended his hand.
Collin didn’t like the formal use of his name. After a brief hesitation he reached out and took the Pastor’s hand in a firm but brief shake.
“You have a lot of catching up to do. I’m sure this,” he said with a gesture to the surroundings, “is all a bit new to you.”
Collin said nothing.
“Well, my son. You have nothing to worry about.” The pastor smiled, patted Collin on the shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.
Collin’s hand flew up and crushed the pastor’s hand. Collin twisted it off of his shoulder, locking the wrist and forcing the pastor to the ground. As the two men went to the ground, Collin snatched his pistol from where he’d set it down, clicked the slide forward and held the gun to the Pastor’s head.
“Where is my family?” Collin growled.
Shadows flitted over them and a chorus of shouts rose as the armed men stepped forward with their rifles aimed at Collin.
“No,” shouted the Pastor.
A man strode out in front of the others. Collin briefly glanced up at him. The glint of light on metal caught his eye - a major’s oak leaf cluster. Something in the back of his mind told him the rank insignia should have been a subdued, non-metallic brown to eliminate light reflection.
Collin pressed the gun hard into the back of the pastor’s head.
“Don’t shoot. Stand down,” said Pastor Pendell. He waved his free
hand to urge his men back.
No one moved. The man with the major’s insignia looked down his gun’s barrel at Collin, then lowered his arm. The others stepped back and lowered their weapons uneasily. Obviously, the pastor led an obedient group.
“Where are they?” Collin said. Then it dawned on him that the situation may not be so straightforward. “Do you have them? If you hurt them, I swear-”
“To God?” the pastor asked. He turned his head sideways and looked at Collin with one eye. “Were you going to swear to God?”
“Where is my family?” Collin said slowly. He enunciated each word clearly, remembering that doing so often helped people in stressful situations comprehend his questions.
“You should turn to God in times like these,” Pendell said, his tone serious.
Collin squeezed the back of the pastor’s neck causing him to wince.
Pendell shook his head as best as he could.
“I don’t have your family. If I did, they would be here to greet you.”
“Where are they,” Collin shouted with a snarl.
“I don’t know where they are exactly,” Pendell said, maintaining his composure. “But I can help you find them.”
Collin didn’t respond. He didn’t move. His breathing was heavy with anger and confusion.
Pastor Pendell moved his head and looked at his captor.
“Mr. War, are you prepared to die?” His voice was calm, serious, and thoughtful. “You see, I am. If the good Lord chose you to deliver me unto Him, then I am prepared to go. I have to say, it would be a tragedy for you to die so soon after waking up. A lot has changed since you fell asleep all those years ago. Sixteen years to be exact, Collin. Nearly two decades.”
Collin’s gut told him there was truth in the man’s words. His mind told him he couldn’t survive if he shot the pastor; the odds just weren’t with him, and his heart yearned for his family. Familiar faces in an unfamiliar time.
He looked around. Not much to see other than men waiting for the opportunity to end his life. And Anna. She stepped into the light. Her hands were clasped in front of her, a sympathetic look in her eyes, and a slight smile on her lips.
“Please, Collin,” she said. “Listen to him. We can help.”
Anna’s sincerity struck a chord with him.
Survive to see what the next minute brings, the voice in his head told him.
Collin eased his grip on Pastor Pendell, slid off of his back, and squatted on the ground. He dropped the magazine from his pistol, cleared it, then he set it down on the pavement.
“Okay,” he said with a nod.
Men rushed in to help the pastor up. Three ran over to apprehend Collin. One man started to secure his hands while the other two covered him with their rifles aimed at Collin’s broad chest.
Pastor Pendell ran his hands down his chest and thighs, dusting himself off. Before the soldier could zip-tie Collin’s hands, the pastor said, “Gentlemen, that’s quite unnecessary. Mr. Collin War is our honored guest. He’s no threat to our safety. Isn’t that right, Collin?”
The fatherly smile was back on the pastor’s face. He walked over to where Collin was still crouched on the ground, and offered his hand again.
Collin nodded his thanks. “That’s correct.”
He reached up, took Pastor Pendell’s hand, and stood up.
Glancing around at the Eagles, Collin noted they were still very skeptical of him.
Fair enough, he thought.
The blinding lights dimmed, and the soldiers parted before Collin as he followed Pastor Pendell out of the alley.
Chapter Three
Pastor Pendell smiled at Collin and gestured down the alley.
“Shall we walk?” asked Pendell. It didn’t sound much like a question and he didn’t wait for a response, he just started walking.
Collin looked after him then glanced at Anna.
“Don’t be scared.” She smirked at him.
He found himself grinning at her. Something about her made him vulnerable. He knew next to nothing about her, yet trust came easy. Too easy.
Collin made a mental note to keep that in check. He couldn’t afford to have a blind spot.
Together, the two of them followed the pastor.
The Eagles formed a protective half-circle around them. All of the soldiers, not exclusively male Collin noticed, wore a uniform that looked slightly less sinister and more militaristic than the Vipers. The Eagles were alert and operated with practiced movements. They had discipline, training, and carried guns, three notable differences between the two groups.
“This hospital has taken a quite a beating over the years,” Pastor Pendell said, pointing out areas of damage. “Nothing like tonight though.”
Some of the damage was severe, like the blown out floors where Collin and Anna had previously been. On this side of the building, most of the damage was less extreme, like the dozens of pockmarks that dotted the hospital’s facade from a hail of bullets. While the hospital looked worn, the sidewalk and driveway were clear, suggesting a semi-effective cleanup crew of some sort and a certain level of pride in the appearance of their town. Piles of rubble filled space where plants would have grown long ago.
No light emanated from the building. It appeared that the external lights were busted out, likely from whatever battles marred the façade, and the large front doors were missing glass. In fact, Collin noticed that none of the buildings he could see was lit up.
“For the last few weeks, you’ve been my only patient,” Anna said.
“I hope I wasn’t too much trouble,” Collin said.
“Not at all. Well...if you don’t count tonight,” she said, looking a little shy. She cleared her throat before continuing. “For the most part, I was able to get a lot of reading and research completed.”
Collin raised his eyebrows and nodded, hoping he looked interested. In reality, the only thing on his mind was his family and the apparent loss of sixteen years from his consciousness. He knew in his heart he had a wife and a kid, or maybe even several kids, although he couldn’t quite make out their faces or names in his mind.
“Where are we going?” he asked. “I’d like to find my family - ASAP.”
“Of course you would. Right now though we are headed to the church to get you cleaned up and in some, shall we say, better attire.” Pastor Pendell looked Collin over with a critical eye and gestured to the street ahead of them. “We must cross town to get to the church. It won’t take long and I believe you may find it informative. Consider it an opportunity to get a feel for where you are.”
Naturally, Collin had been taking mental notes the whole time. He had taken forty-nine steps since he stood up and accepted Pendell’s peace offering. So far, he noticed an open space directly across from the hospital, possibly a parking lot or a park.
A narrow green sign told him they were walking down the middle of Park haven Street. The crossroad was called 14th Ave and the only notable feature of the streets was their lack of asphalt. As far as Collin could see, the roads were gravel. Collin didn’t realize America still had towns with no paved roads.
“Where are we?” Collin asked.
“You, sir, are in the beautiful Big Sky State of Montana,” said Pastor Pendell. He waved a hand across the space in front of him, like he was presenting a tantalizing game show prize.
“And this place is called...?”
“Goshen,” said Anna.
Collin nodded in satisfaction. He’d never heard of the town, but he knew Montana fairly well from road trips he took as a kid, and a short stint living in Kalispell back in high school.
“Who were those people back at the hospital?” he asked. Anna already told him, but he wanted to see what the pastor would say.
“Godless souls,” said Pastor Pendell. “We don’t have much and what we do have, we share. Now look here. Every Sunday, after service of course, we open up these buildings and have a big block party. I suppose you could call it a Goshen social. It’s a
chance for everyone to come together to enjoy the Lord’s bounty. You will, of course, be joining us this week.”
Collin pretended not to notice how the pastor dodged the question and instead considered the man’s request; after all, attending the social was a great chance to gather intelligence. He could also read between the lines. He understood that it wasn’t actually a request at all. It was a commandment delivered to him by a man of the cloth.
Pendell led them through the intersection. On either side, sat the low buildings he mentioned. Small shops and restaurants back in the day, by the look of it. Now they looked abandoned. There were still no lights in the windows and no one peered out at them from inside.
Vehicles were conspicuously absent from the roads. Not a single car or truck was parked along the sidewalks, which were paved. Collin glanced down at the gravel road - no ruts or tire tracks. Just the vague outline of shoe prints.
“We are a relatively large community nowadays,” the pastor said, continuing his introduction. “Back before the fever, we were a small town. A small community where most people knew each other.”
Pastor Pendell chuckled. “We know each other much more intimately now though. Yes, indeed. The good Lord has seen fit to bring together the faithful in our little town. We have been blessed by His grace. In fact, you, sir, are something of a miracle. Did you know that?”
Collin was thoroughly confused. Lots of people, a fever, small community, and some religious mumbo jumbo. He certainly didn’t feel like a miracle. He felt rather normal, and somewhat uncomfortable with the new situation he found himself in.
“If you say so, pastor,” Collin said, skepticism thick in his voice. His stomach felt hollow. He needed food, and soon.
“I do.”
“Why did those men at the hospital attack me?” Collin stopped walking and looked pointedly at the pastor.
Pastor Pendell made a face and waved his hand like he was batting away a mosquito.
“You’re not appreciating the gravity of the situation, Mr. War. You are a unique soul. Not just here, but from as far away as we get news, you’re the first person to ever wake up from the fever.” Pastor Pendell spoke with such excitement it was hard not to get swept away by it.
Praying for War: The Collin War Chronicles Page 3