by L. T. Ryan
They continued on, passing through a broad clearing filled with high weeds. Turk glanced up at the darkening sky. They should have at least two hours of sunlight left, yet the sky looked black. Something bad was brewing over the Atlantic. How far away was the storm? Not much later, he heard the first rumbles of thunder.
“We need to pick it up,” he said.
“How much further?” she asked.
“A mile or two,” he said. “I’ve got a good idea where we are. Up ahead, the woods will thin out a bit. We need to stick to the edge, and we’ll find it.”
They pushed further through the forest. The clouds broke up for a few minutes, allowing the orange and red rays of the setting sun to penetrate through the trees.
“What do we do if it gets dark?” Sarah asked.
“Stop,” Turk said. “Won’t do us any good to try and find it in the middle of the night with no light.”
Sarah looked up. Turk followed her gaze. The clouds had swallowed the sky again.
“What about that storm?” she asked.
Turk shrugged. “We try to stay out of the wind.”
“That’s your suggestion? You don’t have some Special Forces trick up your sleeve?”
He laughed.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He stopped and drew his weapon. “What?”
“That smell. Is it smoke?”
Turk raised his nose into the air and took several short breaths. At first, he didn’t notice it, but then he felt the tickle in his throat and the sensation of watching a bonfire burn passed through him.
“What’s it coming from?” she asked.
“We need to find out,” Turk said. “If the woods are on fire, we’re in trouble. Come on, this way.”
He led her toward the woods’ edge. The smell of smoke grew heavier. A haze hovered in the air, thick enough that it became difficult to see the tops of the trees. The further they walked, the lower the smoke got.
Thunder cracked above them. A tree branch splintered and fell. Raindrops pelted the canopy of leaves above them. Light penetrated through the haze and trees, indicating they’d reached the edge of the woods.
“There,” Turk said. “Can you go faster?”
“Yeah.”
They ran the remaining distance. The ever-present smoke burned Turk’s lungs as he exerted himself. Instead of thinning out, it seemed to get thicker. They reached the last line of trees. Turk sprinted toward the familiar field. An orange blaze rose out from the ground. Dark smoke billowed into the air. Embers fell throughout the clearing. Scorched grass glowed red before fading to gray. The area hissed as raindrops fell from the dark clouds.
“What is this?” Sarah asked, clutching to Turk’s arm when she caught up to him.
“Home.” Tears fell from the corners of his eyes as he thought about his friends and family trapped inside. Without knowing the source of the fire, it was impossible to tell if they were safe, burned alive, or choking to death.
The winds picked up. The fire whipped around. Thunder and lightning drew nearer at a more consistent rate. The rain grew heavier.
Sarah pulled at Turk’s arm. “We have to seek shelter.”
Turk didn’t budge.
“There’s nothing you can do,” she said.
He turned toward her.
She grabbed his arms. “There’s nothing you can do, Turk. The storm will pass. We’ll come back after and figure it out. Okay?”
The rain washed the tears off his cheeks. He nodded, grabbed Sarah’s hand and led her away from the blazing inferno. Marcus had dragged them all to hell after all.
“About a quarter mile ahead there’s an old shed. We can stay in there. We’ll be exposed, but at least the elements won’t get us. Unless the thing falls down, I guess.”
They ran past the blaze. Turk avoided looking at it. Lightning clawed across the sky above and the thunder cracked, rumbling the ground. The wind swirled around them. They reached the weathered shed. The front door flung back and forth, banging against the galvanized steel siding.
Turk went inside, gun drawn, and cleared it. “Come on in.”
Sarah entered, pulling the door shut behind her. It didn’t latch. Turk threaded a rope around the handle and removed any slack. Fading light peeked in through the painted over windows.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, wrapping her arms around him.
Unable to avoid thinking about the probable outcome, Turk buried his face into her shoulder and cried.
Forty-Two
“That’s it, just beyond those trees.”
Sean followed Derrick’s outstretched hand and saw a faint glow through the tangle of leaves and branches. Shadowy figures lined the path. His mind matrixed them into humans.
“You’re sure no one is gonna be between here and that first guard?” Sean asked.
Derrick said, “Yeah, as sure as I can be.”
“All right. I don’t want to take any chances from this point on, so lift your arms in the air.” Sean ducked his head and pulled the MP7 away from his body. He pressed the barrel into Derrick’s back, between the shoulder blades.
“This your plan?” Derrick asked.
“Yeah, for now,” Sean said.
“Just don’t shoot.”
“Can’t promise that.”
“What?”
“Relax, Derrick. You’re my bargaining chip. I’m not going to shoot you.” Sean paused. “Unless I have to,” he added.
“Not funny.”
“Who says I was trying to be funny? Anyway, time to shut up and move.”
Derrick led the way with Sean close behind, trusting the man to lead them safely through the woods. He remained focused on the environment around them. Despite Sean’s apprehension, nothing stood out. Although he feared he’d lost his edge long ago.
They reached the clearing. The two men dropped to the ground.
“I want you to go out there,” Sean said. “You’re gonna say your partner is back there, hurt. He collapsed. You need help.”
“Okay. Then what?”
“Lead him to me.”
“You gonna kill him?”
“No, just put him to sleep for a bit.”
Derrick stared at Sean, chewing the inside of his cheek. His mouth twisted to the right. “All right. I’m ready whenever.”
“Go,” Sean said.
Derrick rose, walked to the left about twenty feet and then made his way to the man standing watch. Sean was impressed with the way the man staggered and stumbled, nearly falling as he reached the sentry.
Sean reached down and stroked Marley’s fur to soothe him. He kept his weapon aimed at the guard. If Derrick had plans to sell him out, he’d do it now. Sean moved to his left, taking cover behind a tree. This gave him a head start if things went wrong.
The two men interacted animatedly. The guard tried to turn and walk toward the camp. Derrick grabbed his arm, spun him and pulled him toward the woods. Even at this distance, in the dark, Sean could see the serious look on Derrick’s face. The guard bought in and both men headed toward the spot Sean had been hiding.
Sean crept from one tree to another, positioning himself closer to the ambush spot.
“Where’s this guy?” the guard said.
“Dammit,” Derrick said. “He must’ve ran. I swear he was here. Son of a bitch took me from his house all the way out here, through the woods and all.”
Son of a bitch, Sean thought.
He emerged from behind the tree, hidden in the darkness. The dog followed.
“Don’t either of you move a fucking muscle,” Sean said.
Both men straightened up.
“Hands up, drop to your knees, face on the ground.”
Neither man moved. They glanced at each other.
“For Christ’s sake, Derrick, it won’t take much to get me to pull this trigger. I can hide before the rest of your men can get out here.”
Derrick dropped to his knees and bent forward.
“Wh
o the hell are you?” the guard said.
Sean rushed toward the guy. He slammed the stock of his MP7 into the side of the man’s head. The guy crumpled over. Sean lifted his weapon and drove it down again. Warm blood sprayed, coating his arms.
“I… I… I—“
“Shut up, Derrick,” Sean said, grabbing the man by his hair and pulling him up. “You lost every ounce of trust I had in you. If someone needs to die…” Sean glanced at the motionless body on the ground. “If someone else needs to die, it’ll be you. Now put your damn hands behind your head and let’s go.”
They stepped into the clearing and made their way toward camp. A couple dozen tents filled the area. Some were dark. Others were lit up. A quiet murmur filled the air. It smelled of steak and body odor. Sean’s stomach was conflicted.
Beyond the tent area, wooden skeletons rose out of the ground.
“What’re those?” Sean asked.
“New housing, prison, shelters,” Derrick said.
“Where’s your dad?”
“Straight ahead.”
They pushed forward. A man ran toward them, stopping when he realized what was going on. Sean held a finger to his lips. The man stuck his hands in the air. Sean gestured for him to get down on the ground. The guy did.
They climbed a set of steps. Wood popped and cracked under their feet. Sean’s boots thumped as he crossed the deck to the door. He turned so that his back was against the wall. He looked back at the area they had passed through. The guy still lay on the ground. There was no one else nearby. Marley took a seat at the edge of the porch, watching the camp.
“Open the door,” Sean said.
Derrick reached for the handle. “Locked.”
“Knock.”
Derrick did. A few moments later Sean felt vibrations through the wood. The lock clicked, the door cracked open, and a light shined in their direction. Derrick’s head blocked it out.
“What are you doing out there, son?” a man asked.
Sean pushed off the wall and drove his shoulder into the middle of Derrick’s back. They hit the door, knocking it open and sending Derrick’s father to the ground. Derrick tripped over the man. Sean lost his balance and stumbled. He tucked his right arm to his body and rolled off his side into a sitting position. The men were between him and the open door. He had to act before one of them got out and alerted the others.
Derrick’s father rose, glanced back at Sean and then headed toward the door.
“I’ll shoot,” Sean said. “And I won’t miss.”
The man froze. He reached out and closed the door. The air turned still. The man turned to face Sean.
Derrick got to his knees. He reached out for his father. The man slapped his son’s hands away. Derrick crawled toward the wall. Sean felt bad for a moment, having shamed the man in front of his father.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“Someone you fucked with,” Sean replied.
“I messed with no one. My guys went out to investigate a property we felt might contain survivors.”
“Survivors my ass. You came out there, guns drawn, ready to kill whoever got in your way so you could steal whatever they had.”
The man sighed, and said, “You misinterpreted what we were doing there.”
Sean shook his head. “Wasn’t me. My wife is the one who killed your men. All but one. I’m responsible, too.”
“What do you want now?”
“Give me your name first.”
“Phil.”
“Last name?”
“Do those matter anymore?”
He had a point. “Phil, your men took my daughter and my friend. I want them back.”
“Or you’re going to shoot me, right?”
“You, your son, every last person here if you don’t hand them over.”
Phil gestured toward the table. “May I?”
Sean nodded. He followed Phil with his MP7 as the man crossed the room, turned a chair around and sat down.
“Join your father, Derrick,” Sean said.
Derrick rose and did as instructed, taking a seat next to Phil. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
Phil lifted a hand. “It’s okay, son. I can see why this man overtook you.” Phil gestured toward Sean’s arm at the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. “What branch and how long?”
“Air Force, twelve years. Was forced to retire eight years ago.”
“Combat control?” Phil asked.
“PJ,” Sean replied.
Phil nodded approvingly. He reached his arm across his body and pulled up his sleeve. “Green Beret. Twelve years active, eight reserves. Left on my own accord about eight years ago.”
“What about the other men here?”
Phil shrugged. “A couple were with me back then. Most are locals. Doesn’t make them any less dangerous, or helpful.”
Sean said nothing.
“What region?”
“Everywhere,” Sean said. “Mostly Africa at the end.”
“Ah, Africa. My brother was lost in Africa.”
“You’re not trying to stall me, are you?” Sean said, adding a gesture with his gun.
“No, I’m trying to make a point about the hellish state the world is in now.”
Sean felt his gut tighten. “All right.”
“My brother was Spec Ops, too. Delta Force, to be exact. He went down to Nigeria and never came back. They sent a team of Rangers out there to do an extraction. I asked to go along, but they denied me. Maybe for the better, ‘cause those Rangers never came back. Maybe for the worse, too. I think that if I’d been there, this stuff going on now wouldn’t be happening.”
“Why’s that?” Sean said.
“Few years back, I got some information on what happened to my brother. Turns out, they’d stumbled upon some hidden facility. A medical testing facility. I guess stumbled is the wrong word. They were sent there. Someone here knew all about it. They knew that a mess had grown out of control. And you know, if you don’t clean up a mess like that, it has a way of seeping in deep and causing problems that might not show up until years later. So, they sent those men in there. Sent them to their deaths is what they did.”
Sean said nothing.
Phil narrowed his eyes. “I got the papers back there if you don’t believe me.”
Sean shrugged. “Didn’t say I don’t believe you. What happened next?”
“Like I said, a company of Rangers were sent in. They failed, too. Whatever was down in that facility was bad, bad, bad. Eventually, someone called in the bombers. They carpet bombed the whole damn area without a thought to the men that were stuck down there. They could have been imprisoned, you know. Instead of sending a thousand troops, they dropped five hundred pound bombs. Yes sir, that’s what they did.”
“The men were all dead,” Sean said.
“That was the point of the bombers, I’d presume,” Phil said.
“They were dead before the bombs hit.”
“Oh, yeah? And how would you know that?”
“I was there.”
Phil leaned forward. “What do you mean you were there?”
“After Delta was captured, and the Rangers didn’t respond, they sent SEAL Team 8 out. My partner and I joined them. The mission was labeled rescue and recovery, but it became apparent that there was no rescue involved. On the way to the first rendezvous, Jules and I ran into one of those things. We called them the afflicted, mostly. They reminded me of zombies from old horror flicks, and like you saw on television just a couple weeks ago. Only these things were more like monsters, or an alien species. Some could run faster than you could track. They could jump. Their eyes glowed bright and intense. Your file mention any of that?”
Phil nodded.
Sean continued. “We lost two men before we even got inside. The rest fell shortly after that. Some were sick, others butchered. I had to shoot my best friend in the head because he’d fallen sick.”
“We got something in common then.”
“More than you realize. The bomb didn’t kill all those men, Phil. The Rangers were dead. They didn’t last long. Their bodies littered the hallways. The guys from Delta had been taken down to a lower level. They were imprisoned in a cell. Those things surrounded them. A group of SEALs had penetrated the level above and made visual contact. I was told the floor below had over a thousand afflicted trying to get at the Delta guys. They broke through the first barrier of the cell block housing our guys.” He paused and studied Phil for a moment. “They knew it was over. And they’d seen what those things did to people. They didn’t want it to happen to them. They asked to be given a warrior’s death. They banded together, turned their back to the SEALs and waited for the end, holding each other up until the last one fell.”
Phil ran his thumb and forefinger down his cheeks and over his beard, pinching the hair together at his chin. “Thank you, PJ. That answers a lot of questions.”
Sean nodded. “Welcome.”
“I have one more, though.”
“My name?”
“Are you Sean or Julian.”
“Sean Ryder.”
“I was wrong,” Phil said.
“About what?”
“Last names do mean something.” He paused for a beat, then turned to his son. “Derrick, go to the door and yell for Ralph. Sean, you can sit next to me and hold your gun to my head. I’m going to send my best man to get your daughter and your friend. You’re free to become a member of our community. I’ve got a spare room in here you all can share.”
“I’ve got somewhere to go,” Sean said.
“Understood. I’m not going to keep you here any longer than you want to be. We’ll give you one of our ATVs, a map of the backwoods here, some gas, and whatever supplies you can carry.”
Sean nodded. The man had flipped too soon, too easily. No bond over an event that happened eight years ago could be that strong.
Could it?
Forty-Three
The dim bulbs that lined the ceiling of the walkway between the cells cast subtle pools of light across the floor. Addison stared at her semi-illuminated foot. Dirt covered her toes and caked underneath her nails. She longed for a shower or a bath. She’d settle for a bucket of water if it meant rinsing the grime out of her hair and off her body. She scratched at the top of her head with both hands.