The Borrowed World (Book 4): No Time For Mourning

by Franklin Horton

  Baxter sagged to his knees, his head in his hands.

  Chapter 42

  The Valley

  “Dad! Gary! Dad!” Pete yelled into the radio.

  Despite the routine nature of most days at his outpost, he had not given up on maintaining a daily watch. It was more than his job; it was his role in the tribe. He’d never in his life felt like he had so much of a purpose as he did now. Most days he saw nothing. Today, a tan Humvee was screaming down the road through the valley.

  “What, Pete?” Jim responded. “You okay?”

  “There’s a tan Humvee flying down the road. He’s in a hurry.”

  “Thanks, Pete. We’ll get ready. Let me know what he does.”

  Pete knew his dad had to get everyone safe and didn’t have time for small talk. Jim had been working on the chicken coop. Raccoons had been trying to get in and he needed to make sure they couldn’t kill any more chickens. When he got the call from Pete, he went into red alert mode, running from the barn yelling at his family.

  “Positions! Positions!”

  Everyone in the family had drilled on this. At this command, Nana and Ariel were to retreat to the basement. Pops and Ellen were to take up defensive positions in the house, Ellen with a shotgun and Pops with a hunting rifle. Pete was to remain in his outpost and relay the movements of the visitors. Jim had a firing position between the house and the gate. From there he could interact with the visitors and determine their intentions. He could also engage them with his rifle if he couldn’t charm them with his personality.

  “House in position?” Jim asked into his radio.

  “In position,” Ellen replied.

  Jim had borrowed the rural delivery mailboxes from some of the burned out and empty homes in the valley. He’d dug postholes around his property and installed those mailboxes on their original posts in random locations. The mailboxes were weatherproof and made a convenient spot to cache spare ammo or other gear. As Jim ran for his earthen position, he stopped at one of his mailbox caches and retrieved a rolled up chest rig with ten spare magazines for his M4.

  He was dropping the rig over his neck when Pete came over the radio.

  “They’ve stopped at our gate.”

  Chapter 43

  The Valley

  When Gary heard Pete’s first transmission, he bunkered his family down. They’d run the same drill as Jim’s family.

  “What do you need me to do?” Charlotte asked.

  Gary stared at her in surprise. They’d never made her do the drills because she’d been unresponsive to everything. This was the first time she’d ever asked to help with anything.

  “Are you up to it?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Then you help watch the kids in the basement,” he said. “I’ve got Will in the barn keeping watch, your mom and Karen will be here watching the road from the living room, you and Sara in the basement with the kids. Any questions?”

  “Where will you go?” she asked.

  “I’m going to take my long-range rifle and go high.”

  As everyone scrambled to get where they were supposed to be, Gary grabbed his Savage 110 and took off up the hill that rose between his home and Jim’s. He was nearly at the top when Pete’s second radio transmission came through.

  “They’ve stopped at our gate.”

  Gary kept moving until he was in a position to see Jim’s gate, where a tan Humvee sat idling. Gary shook out his shooting mat and dropped to the ground, unfolded the legs of the bipod, and settled the rifle. He’d dropped the Savage action into an MDT chassis. The caliber was .338 Lapua and it was a beast. He’d topped it off with a Schmidt Bender scope that had cost him more money than he’d ever admit to his wife.

  Taking in the scene below him, Gary realized it would have been a good idea to have established a sniper’s hide up here earlier and made a list of ranges to different landmarks. It was always faster than having to use the rangefinder on the fly when time was critical. As a matter of fact, he’d been doing that very thing at his house yesterday. He’d ranged distances to the barn, to the mailbox, to his own gate, and to other distinctive landmarks so that he could commit them to memory.

  He slapped at the pouch on his rifle bag and confirmed what had just occurred to him. His rangefinder was still sitting on the kitchen counter. He cursed himself. Here he was perhaps needing to assist his friend and he didn’t have a critical tool. He hadn’t had many opportunities to train with this rifle, only having purchased it a few months back. All of the shooting he’d done had been performed using a laser rangefinder and a ballistic computer app on his phone.

  Focus.

  His scope had an MRAD reticle. He knew that a single unit, one MRAD, covered about three feet of height at one thousand yards. He stared through the scope at the Humvee. He saw a person get out of the passenger seat and run toward the gate. He immediately recognized Randi. She fumbled with the chain on the gate before realizing it was locked. She began yelling and Gary assumed she was yelling at Jim to let her in.

  In the field of view he could see other people in the vehicle. He had a friend who had a military Humvee and it seemed like the guy had once told him that his vehicle used a thirty-seven inch tire. Gary lay the scale of his reticle on the tire. It was larger than a single MRAD so the distance had to be less than a thousand yards.

  He turned his crosshairs on Randi. He felt odd about it, like it was a violation. It was also critical that he get a range on any targets in case he had to drop someone. He’d have to make sure that he never mentioned this to her or she’d probably kick his ass.

  He thought he remembered her saying she was around five foot four inches tall. That was sixty-four inches. At nine hundred yards, a MRAD was thirty-two inches, or half the height of a five foot four inch woman. Gary placed the crosshair on what he judged to be the center of her body, between the waist and pelvis. The next MRAD line on his scope landed right on the crown of her head. It had to be nine hundred yards.

  At least he hoped so.

  He took the crosshair off Randi and calculated the other factors. Although there was no wind, he was shooting downhill. The stock of the rifle had a pouch with a transparent sleeve containing a ballistics table for the load he was shooting. He adjusted his comeups on the scope turrets, chambered a round, and settled in.

  Chapter 44

  The Valley

  “Let us in!” Randi screamed. “I have wounded men.”

  Jim was not yet to the protection of his dug-in shooting position. He stopped close to it. This was Randi out there—his friend. Still, he hesitated. What the hell was she up to?

  “Who are they?” he called.

  She spread her hands in frustration. “What does it matter, Jim? They need help. I don’t have the supplies at my house to help them.”

  “Where did you find them?” he demanded. “I am not letting strangers onto my property.”

  “Buddy, Lloyd, and I found them on the ride out of the valley,” she said. “They’ve been shot, and they need help.”

  Jim couldn’t do it. He could not turn into a hospital for every stray that came through here. He had stockpiled enough medical supplies to get his family through various scenarios. All of his calculations were based on a family of four. He’d already gone beyond that, treating people in his friends’ families. He would run out of supplies if this continued.

  “I can’t do it,” Jim said. “I don’t have anything.”

  “Jim, I know you do,” she said. “We can help these people.”

  He couldn’t believe she was responding this way. She could be as cold as a hit man. He’d seen it with his own eyes. Here she was though, trying to get him to share his supplies with people he didn’t know. Besides the depletion of his supplies, he couldn’t let strangers become aware that he had gear and supplies. That could be a death sentence if word got out.

  “Randi, come talk to me,” Jim said.

  “Open the gate.”

  “Not happe
ning,” he said. “You climb over and come talk to me for a minute. We’ll sort this out.”

  Randi sagged and headed for the gate. “Damnit, Jim!”

  “Hold it!” a man yelled, jumping out of the driver’s seat. He had an AR raised and pointed at Randi.

  “What the fuck?” Randi said. “I’m trying to help you. Put that away.”

  “You open this gate or I’m ramming through it!” he yelled at Jim. “I have two injured friends dying in there. They need assistance.”

  “You pass that gate and you’ll all die,” Jim replied calmly.

  Jim’s radio chirped. “Dad, I don’t think I can hit him from this far off,” Pete said. “I don’t have a clear shot at this angle. I’m afraid I’ll hit you or Randi.”

  Jim raised his radio to his mouth. “Do NOT shoot, Pete!” he said. “Do NOT!”

  He took a step toward Randi. “You open this gate now or the girl dies!”

  Jim cursed. By opening the gate and saving his friend, he would possibly condemn his family to death. He couldn’t do it. Randi was his friend but she’d screwed up big time and endangered them all.

  He was trying to figure out his next move when a shot rang out. There was a fraction of a second where nothing happened, then the man holding the rifle on Randi suddenly dropped it. In fact, his entire arm below the elbow dropped to the ground with it in a spray of blood and tissue.

  The man staggered back two steps, staring at the gushing stump below his right bicep. His mouth twisted in horror.

  “I didn’t shoot!” Pete screamed into the radio.

  Jim knew at that point who must have fired the shot. He rushed toward the gate, rifle raised. Randi kicked the severed arm away from the AR and picked the rifle up. The man who’d held it had slumped to the ground, blood streaming from his arm and spraying his clothes.

  “Tourniquet,” he begged. “There’s one in my pocket.”

  “You had one fucking chance,” Randi hissed. She pulled the trigger and his head snapped back against the vehicle. She jerked the rifle back toward the vehicle. “Get out!” she ordered the men still inside.

  Jim had climbed the gate and dropped over. He raised his rifle toward the vehicle. “How many?” he demanded.

  “Two,” she said. “One wounded.”

  Jim yanked open the back door and stepped out of the way, constantly keeping his rifle pointed at the strangers. “OUT!”

  “Don’t shoot us,” said a voice. “We’re not armed.” It was Hunter, the man who’d had to let go of the rain coat and let his buddy die. He slid out, arms raised. Behind him was the man with the shoulder wound, cradling his damaged arm.

  “I’m searching you men,” Jim said. “Shoot them if they twitch, Randi.”

  “Got it.”

  He searched them, relieving them of their knives. The man with the shoulder injury had a sidearm in a holster, and Jim pocketed that. When he was done, he ordered them up against the vehicle. He and Randi both had their weapons trained on them. Jim pulled his radio from its pouch.

  “Good shot, Gary,” he said.

  “I was aiming for center mass,” Gary said. “I missed.”

  “That’s okay,” Jim said. “You still disarmed him.”

  “I can’t believe you said that,” Gary replied.

  “You okay, Pete?”

  “I’m good.”

  “You stay up there,” Jim said. “Make sure your rifle is on safe.”

  “What do we do with them?” Randi asked. “Should I kill them? I realize I fucked up by bringing them here. I’m sorry.”

  Jim shook his head, suddenly mad again. “I don’t get it, Randi. You know the deal. You know how important operational security is, then you do something like this?”

  “As a friend and a mother, I can kill without thinking a damn thing about it,” she said. “It’s the nurse part that gives me trouble. It’s a reflex to help people and I can’t seem to control it. It’s the years of training. You train to run toward trouble. I’m so sorry.”

  “I want the nurse here with us,” Jim said. “We need your medical knowledge. That nurse better get her shit together though. You remember us talking about keeping our preparations private?”

  Randi sighed. “Yes.”

  “You cannot compromise any of us for strangers!” he said. “We are your family. These people are the enemy. It has to be like that.”

  “So you want me to kill them since it was my screw-up?”

  “You don’t have to kill us,” Hunter begged. “Please don’t.”

  There was burst of gunfire in the distance, further down the valley toward Rockdell Farms. It made Jim realize that there may yet be a use for these outsiders.

  “Did you hear that?” Gary asked over the radio.

  “I did,” Jim replied.

  “I’m getting back to my family,” Gary said.

  “Roger,” Jim said. He eyed the men leaning against the vehicle. “Let’s take these men to your house. You can patch them up and we can get to know each other.”

  “Buddy and Lloyd are riding by my place on horses,” Gary said. “Moving at a good clip.”

  “See if you can get a hold of them,” Jim said. “Have them meet us at Randi’s house.”

  “Roger.”

  “Put these guys back in the vehicle?” Randi asked.

  “Hell no,” Jim said. “They ain’t doing any more bleeding in my new Humvee. They can walk.”

  Chapter 45

  Rockdell Farms

  After a moment, Baxter rose to his feet. He stalked toward Valentine and shoved him with both hands. “What the hell was that?” he yelled. He pushed him again. “What are you thinking?”

  Valentine didn’t answer. Baxter shoved him again. This time Valentine responded with a quick jab that knocked Baxter on his ass. He sat there stunned, trying to figure out what happened to him.

  Valentine stood over him and pointed his finger at him. “You push me one more time and it will be the last time you ever push anybody.” His tone left no room for misunderstanding.

  Rubbing his chin, Baxter tried to process what was going on. Clearly he’d underestimated Valentine. Maybe he’d underestimated the entire world outside of the sheltered confines of Wallace County.

  “I’m sorry, Valentine. I’m sorry I put my hands on you. This is…not the way I planned this.”

  “Your plan was going to let all this slip through your fingers,” Valentine said. “Those men were going to come back with their families. They were going to replace us. Then you and I and all the rest of these men were going to be out on our asses.”

  “Maybe,” Baxter replied. “But what the hell are we going to do now?” It was not a question. It was an accusation.

  Valentine slung his AK over his shoulder. “I’m going to take a couple of these men and we’re going to figure out where those shots came from. It might lead us to our missing men.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Baxter said, staggering to his feet.

  “Guess again,” Valentine said. “You are hightailing it back to Glenwall.”

  “Are you kidding me? People will be all over us wanting to know where the board members are.”

  “You think so?” Valentine asked. “Their families maybe. I doubt they had time to tell very many people.”

  “What am I supposed to tell those family members? Am I supposed to keep doing my job like nothing happened?”

  Valentine shook his head. “Can’t do that. You’ve dicked around with this too long. We have to make it happen now. You leave those tower lights off tonight. After everyone is asleep, hook up to that fuel tanker. You load every truck and trailer with the food, weapons, and gear. Early tomorrow, you bring it all here and life starts over. Leave Glenwall to figure their own shit out.”

  Baxter grinned bitterly. “Just like the fucking Grinch stealing Christmas? Taking all of Whoville’s goodies?”

  “Exactly,” Valentine agreed. “You better not grow a heart and double-cross me or I’ll rip it ou
t. Are we clear?”

  “Yeah, we’re clear,” Baxter said. He rubbed his jaw. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hit in the face. It hurt. “What about these bodies?” he asked, gesturing at the dead board members.

  “Leave’em,” Valentine said. “We’ll deal with them later. It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”

  Valentine began shouting orders and in less than a minute, Baxter and his crew were headed back to Glenwall in the semi, leaving their Humvees behind. They would need every available man to drive the loaded vehicles back tomorrow. Valentine kept three men and they loaded in a single Humvee. They proceeded up the valley road, windows down and weapons ready. They were going to find their friends.

  The camp was left abandoned and silent, the bodies of men scattered in all directions. The buzzards began to return, resuming their meal, and picking up where they left off. Several hopped toward the fresher kills. There was no use fighting when there were so many to choose from.

  Lester, who’d so distrusted Baxter, lay face down in the dirt, his clothes soaked with the grocery man’s blood. Valentine had been so pleased with his marksmanship that he hadn’t even confirmed they were all dead.

  The coal man opened one eye.

  Chapter 46

  The Valley

  Gary crossed the fence and was walking across the backyard of his house when he heard the sound of an engine. He paused, thinking perhaps Jim and Randi were driving to his house with the Humvee that had been at Jim’s gate. Then he saw that it was a black Humvee and it was entering the valley from the Rockdell Farms side. He never had a chance to look for Buddy and Lloyd. He could only hope they heard the vehicle and got off the road.

  He sprinted toward the house. He paused at the back door, knocking a special knock that let his family know it was him and would hopefully prevent his wife from vaporizing his head with a shotgun. She unlocked the door and let him in.