by W. J. Lundy
“How many survivors?” Henry asked again.
“More than fifty, less than a hundred,” the man said, sobbing.
“How much time we got?”
Clyde let his head hang limp as he spoke just above a whisper. “He doesn’t ever stay more than a day... he’ll leave tonight or tomorrow morning.”
Burt stepped into the light. “What about the men he leaves behind?” he asked.
Clyde looked up and blinked away blood, focusing on the Ranger before turning back to Henry. “They’ll leave some men to hold Crabtree, then Gus and the others will continue to follow the tracks south until they establish a new outpost.”
Henry pointed the knife at Clyde, the man breaking eye contact and looking away. “And it’s at that point where you will seek out and kill survivors, and take away their families?”
The garage door swung open. Cole stood in the doorway, the sounds of automatic weapons fire spilling in behind him. “Something’s happening at Crabtree,” Cole said.
Henry twirled the blade and pointed it at Clyde. The man shook his head furiously. “I don’t know... maybe it’s the infected. They bunch up against the gates from time to time.”
Sean shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, could be Primals; maybe they followed the train in.”
Cole shook his head. “I don’t think so, Chief. From the high ridge, I spotted flares over Crabtree. White and Red.”
Sean looked to the others and shot a bright smile. “Sounds like Colonel Cloud and those Rangers have finally shown up. Cole, I want you to take Hassan and try to link up with whoever is hitting Crabtree. Tell them our people are on the train,” he said. “Yeah, take Burt with you too.”
Burt rose and stepped into the light. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the reason we’re out here. Now, go and explain to Cloud that things have changed; tell them everything we know.”
“And what about you?” Burt asked, holding back.
Sean turned looking at the man in the chair. “We have work to do, same as you. Now, go.”
Burt nodded his understanding and quickly moved outside to join the others. Sean passed back to the chair and looked Clyde in the eye. “He’s out of time, Henry.” Sean looked to the others. “Gather your gear and meet me outside.”
Clyde shook violently against his restraints. “But wait—I can tell you more.”
“You’ve violated the law, and we can’t let that stand.”
Clyde’s jaw dropped open. “Law? There is no law here.”
“A society that fails to deliver justice, fails to survive.” Sean shook his head, his voice lowering, “There’s always been law, always will be. Even without books and courthouses, we’ll continue to have a moral obligation to each other. You’ve violated that unspoken promise between men. And I’m sorry– but justice must be swift.” Sean turned away and moved outside, the others following close behind, leaving only Henry alone with the man.
Chapter 23
Crabtree, West Virginia
Free Virginia Territories
A relative calm swept over the camp with the soft glow of a pre-dawn horizon. The enemy shooters were gone; the infected lay dead on the ground. His men returned to the watch tower. Binoculars in hand, they searched in all directions. Gus climbed to the top of the parapet and stood next to Bones. He looked down and watched as the last of the women were forced aboard the train. His men were tired and weary, beaten down from losses and the hours long attack. Even with the silence, he couldn’t relax; he still had the feeling that they were under siege.
“I think the worst has passed,” Bones said. “Must’a been just a bunch of locals trying to start shit before the train leaves.”
“No.” Gus looked out at the dead infected on the ground and shook his head. “This isn’t over, and the fact that Carson is holding back his troops, I don’t think he believes it’s over either,” he said. “We’re in a lot of trouble, Bones. I can feel it.” He turned and pointed to the rail cars loaded with the men that were intended as reinforcements to the camp. “Those troops were meant for our push south, but now Carson’s got them all in reserve; like he’s going to be needing them for his own trip home.”
Fighters on top of the cars lay down in firing positions, hidden behind makeshift fortifications on the roof. Gus turned back to the front, trying to interpret the direness of his situation. He placed his hands on the wall and looked out into the darkness. A low mist floated over the snow-covered approach. “No, it’s not over. They’re still out there and setting up... setting up for something big.”
Gus dropped back down to his rear and looked at the loaded train, grimacing at the fresh troops unwilling to help in Crabtree’s defense. Carson was ready to flee with a large portion of his guard force. He looked along the grounds; Carson was still nowhere in sight.
“Has Carson come back out of the train since the attack?” Gus asked.
Bones scratched at the back of his neck and shook his head. “No, sir, he’s held up in his private train car. You know how he is... he won’t come out until the fighting’s over.”
Gus looked at his scarred hands and rubbed them together. “Bones, go down there, talk to his guard, and find out what their plans are. Maybe you can convince some to stick around.”
“You got it, boss,” the thin man said, turning to a ladder. Gus looked at the train car. He did know how Carson was; not a coward, just smart. And you don’t stay alive in an army filled with bad guys by acting stupid. If Carson didn’t make the move to leave, one of his guards would kill him and make the decision for him. These men had no more cause than to enrich themselves and fighting a last stand at an Alamo didn’t pay the dividends they were used to. Carson would leave him as soon as he had the chance.
The red-bearded man focused on the walls, his men still in shock and cowering from the earlier beating, others dead at his feet. These weren’t soldiers, but they would hold their ground because they knew that they had no place else to go. There was a hierarchy in Carson’s Army and the soldiers in the camp fell far below the men being brought in.
Gus shook his head, looking down at the compound and then overlooking the surrounding terrain. The tactics here were all wrong; they were too far from friendly forces. He began to seriously question Carson’s motivations for plunging them so deep into the frontier. Maybe he should go down to the train and have a talk with him. It wasn’t too late to load the vehicles and organize a withdrawal back to the north. They could follow the tracks back to friendly ground. He should make a move now, while they still had cover. The enemy were still out there; Gus knew they were surrounded and at a disadvantage. In the daylight, they would attack again, and with no smoke or darkness to hide, they’d be cut down.
A roar turned his head back to the train. The locomotive had ended its low idle and was now thundering at full power, slowly easing toward the secured gate. “No! What are you doing?” Bones yelled by the closed railroad gate. He scrambled to open it, seeing that the engineer fully intended on ramming through it. Gus watched in horror as the train increased power and speed before a crunch of steel and wood exploded as the train crashed the barrier.
Gus knew exactly what was happening. Carson was intentionally sacrificing Crabtree to allow for his own escape; gambling that the enemy and infected would focus on the breach instead of pursuing the train. No point in protesting the action, there would be no stopping him. He pulled down his black beanie and watched the train roll through the opening in the wall, leaving the wreckage of the gate in its wake.
He exhaled and squeezed the grip of his pistol, angered at being abandoned. He looked to the ground and saw Bones and others scrambling to seal the breach in the wall. A bulldozer lugged forward, belching black smoke as it plowed toward the hole. The enemy, seeing a new opportunity, opened fire. Rounds pinged off the dozer’s front blade. Bones screamed, and Gus looked in his direction in time to see the skinny man clutching his throat, blood seeping between his fingers. Bones was coughing and
gurgling blood as he stepped back from the dozer, more rounds catching the man in the chest.
“Get covering fire for that dozer,” Gus shouted to his men on the parapet. He rose up and pointed to a distant machine gun, its barrel spitting flame. “There! Fire on that gun, take it out,” he bellowed, ordering his men back into the fight. He ran up and down the wall instructing the others to only shoot at the muzzle flashes, focusing their fire on the enemy movements. He stared and watched the train rush away, only a small pack of infected emerging from the mist to chase it. The enemy fire seemed to avoid it, possibly knowing their own people were being held on board.
Now out bound fire was slowing the advance against them. With his men organized and their fire directed, they were slowly beating back the opposing force to the front. Just as Gus started to raise hopes that they could hold the wall, there was an explosion to the west that ripped the rear gate off its hinges. As the smoke cleared, Gus watched hundreds of infected packs running through the hole left in the gate. He quickly realized that they weren’t gaining any ground; the only reason the fire dropped to the west was because the enemy had shifted to the east.
Gus called out to the men closest to his side and ordered them to follow. He rolled and slid down the berm, the others following close behind. He hit the ground running and moved toward the country store-turned-headquarters. Not stopping, he crashed through the door and turned to the rifle rack on the wall. He pointed to a machine gun and boxes of ammunition, looked into the face of a frightened man, and directed him to retrieve it.
“We’ve got to keep the infected back. Take two men and hold them off,” Gus said, “You can’t let the infected pass. Do you understand?”
Without waiting for an answer, Gus moved to the back of the room and retrieved his own rifle and pack. The sounds of gunfire began popping outside as his men fired on the mob. He stepped back to the open door, standing alone and in the dark. At the front gate, the men were again under heavy fire as the attackers shifted their focus.
Another explosion knocked him back, the flames of the blast warming his face. This time the explosion was against the south wall, located behind the tent city where the berm was weakest. The explosion blew away the logs and breached a third hole in the wall. As the smoke cleared, he saw that it wasn’t infected that emerged from the smoke this time, but instead, men in tanned hides and range coats, as well as others in camouflage uniforms.
“Texas...” Gus muttered.
They were now under full assault on three sides. Attacks on both flanks and directly to the front. All of his men were engaged, with nothing left in reserve. At the front where he thought he’d finally organized a defense, his men were panicked and running along the parapet. Looking to the railroad gate, he could see infected moving around the dozer blade. The parapet defenders were pinned down by enemy fire, and the men on the walls couldn’t focus on the infected. To the west, even with the help of the machine gun, his men were being overwhelmed as they took fire from the southern breach.
Everything left was pinned by the Texas Rangers moving in from the south. Gus could hear screams of the defenders outside, the ones he’d armed with the machine gun. His arms and legs were shaking with adrenalin; he wanted to be gone, not knowing how everything had changed so quickly. Just a day earlier, he had been sitting comfortably with his men. Now, everything he’d worked for was vanishing all around him. He gritted his teeth and turned back into the store. They wouldn’t be able to hold it; it was time for him to retreat. He returned to his corner of the building and retrieved his bug out bag.
For a brief moment, he considered ordering the men to withdraw. The firing outside was frenzied, muzzle flashes and explosions strobing light through the windows of the country store. There was so much automatic weapons fire that he could have sworn they were facing a thousand men. Gus moved to a back wall and opened a door leading into an empty storage area, and then passed by old racks to a window facing the northern wall.
He couldn’t save them; if he tried, he would die here. He would let the battle in the compound cover his escape—there was no other way. He looked out into the darkness; the path ahead was still in the shadow of the mountain. All the time he’d spent with these men, Gus intentionally kept himself free of obligations, avoiding friendships or relationships because he knew this day would come. Never did a day pass where he didn’t think of this moment; a time when he would have to drop everything to slip away to start over again. Flashes from the fight to the rear lighting his way, he knew the north wall had only seen light engagement. It would be his way out.
Chapter 24
Crabtree, West Virginia
Free Virginia Territories
Brad waited in the dark. His pack loaded and his rifle close to his chest, he sat watching the flashes in the western sky over Crabtree. Joey was standing near the garage door, repeatedly sticking a tomahawk into a tree stump. Henry remained inside, alone with the prisoner. They could hear the fighting at Crabtree, and saw the pops of distant flares floating like stars, twinkling high in the sky to the west. Sean had the saddles off the horses and was rubbing them down with a stiff brush as Shane dropped blankets over their backs.
There was an uncomfortable silence between the men as they waited for Henry to emerge from the garage. Everyone knew what was happening and what needed to be done, but there was no conversation about it. There were side effects from war, and Brad knew that the numbing to violence was one of the biggest. He also knew it was one reason that he and the others took on these tasks—not because they enjoyed them, but because they wanted to spare the others from it. Now he wondered if they’d been wrong to try to stake a home in the wilderness; maybe they should have moved everyone south when they’d had the chance.
Brooks walked from around the back of the house, breaking his thoughts. He stomped his boots on the flagstone path to knock the snow from the treads. The husky, bearded man had his long rifle strapped to his rucksack, and in his arms he cradled a suppressed MP5. “We got a plan, boss?” he asked, looking to Sean.
The chief took a saddle and lay it over the horse’s back. Working the straps, he said, “You hear that?” He pointed in the direction of the distant battle. “There has to be at least a battalion fighting it out by the sounds of it.”
“That’s more than what Cloud could muster,” Joey said from the shadows, pulling his hawk from the stump and stepping closer.
Sean nodded and squinted, his eyes studying the distant flares on the horizon. “It has to be the Rangers. Texas must have come through.”
Their heads all turned as the garage door opened and Henry stepped out. In his right hand was the bloody karambit. He knelt down and cleaned it in the snow. Raising his head and still kneeling, he peered up at Sean. “You’re not going to Crabtree,” he said flatly. “You plan to go after the train, don’t ya?”
Sean grimaced and dipped his chin. He looked at the men around him and nodded. “We’re light fighters; we make our money facing the enemy where he doesn’t want us. That compound out there? Crabtree? They picked that spot; adding four or five more men to that fray won’t make a difference.” Sean sighed and rolled his shoulders. “I pick the train. By the time they clear that open ground, they’ll think they made an escape, they’ll let their guard down, and that’s when we’ll get our turn.”
“You can’t blow the tracks with your people on board.”
Sean rubbed his eyes and bit at his lip. “We’ll have to find a way on the train.”
“I thought you might say that. There’s a place close to here... a set of narrow turns where the train enters the mountain. You can catch it there.”
Sean nodded. “Lead the way then. I’ve heard the train whistle, and I don’t think we have much time if we want to catch it.”
Henry shook his head. “I’m not going with you. I have a score of my own to settle back at Crabtree.”
Shane stopped what he was doing with the horse and stepped close to the old man. “You’re goin
g after Gus?” he asked. “You don’t have to do that; you can go home.”
Henry nodded and sheathed the karambit. “This has to stop here.” The old man’s jaw tensed. He reached into his pocket and removed the pipe as he looked up at Sean. “You make sure it’s done. Carson doesn’t leave that train.”
“We’ll make sure of it,” Sean said.
Shane stepped closer and pulled his pack to his shoulders. “I’m going with you.”
Henry shook his head no and turned away. He tamped the tobacco and placed the unlit pipe in the crease of his mouth. “Your little girl will be on the train, so you need to make sure she’s safe. What needs doing, I can do on my own.” He moved to the horses and removed a saddle bag from a fence post, transferring items into an olive green pack. “Take the horses back the way we came. When you get to the train tracks, go right. You’ll find a series of sharp bends. At the second bend, the train will slow enough that you can board. It’s a blind corner, they won’t be able to see you.”
“Where do we leave the horses?” Sean asked.
Henry grinned, running a hand over the neck of the large line back, the horse moving toward his touch. “Don’t worry about these girls; they know their way home,” he whispered. The old man slung his rifle and turned toward the distant flares. “It won’t be long now; you should get on your way.” Without saying anything more, he turned and walked away, fading into the darkness.
Wind blew through the tall trees, the distant fighting mixing with the cracking of the limbs. With Brooks and Sean in the front, Brad joined the others and mounted the trail horse, Joey and Shane riding double to the rear. As Brooks led the way, Brad’s horse fell in and followed along without command. Riding on, he let his mind wander, wondering about where they were going and what they would do when they got there. He looked at his gloved hands and the fresh uniform. He was a soldier again. No matter how often he thought he’d left it all behind, somehow it called him back. He hung his head, comfortable in the saddle, and let the horse take him.