Society Lost- The Complete Series

by Steven Bird

  Nate’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of the individual. It was a large man, wearing what appeared to be animal hides from head to toe, including his boots. The man ran like a beast, stealthily leaping over downed branches and foliage with precision. He created only half the sound making his way through the woods as the UF soldier. He moved with the stealth of an animal.

  Although he got a good look at the figure’s attire, Nate was unable to see his face because his head was also adorned with some sort of animal-hide hat that covered around the sides, leaving only the front open.

  As the beastly man disappeared into the woods, Nate lay silent. He desperately wanted to clear his weapon of its malfunction, but didn’t want to give away his position with any unnecessary movement or the sounds of working the rifle’s bolt in the event there were other pursuers nearby.

  After waiting what seemed like an eternity, Nate was finally confident no other pursuers were behind the solder, at least not from his direction. He gently picked the rifle up and eased the charging handle back, ejecting a round.

  He slowly released the bolt, watching as it picked up another brass-cased 5.56 NATO round from the magazine and pushed it into the chamber. He tapped the forward assist to ensure that the bolt was fully in battery, then reached to his side to pick up the ejected round.

  Rolling the cartridge around in his fingers, Nate inspected it to see the dent of a good, solid firing-pin strike on the primer. A dud, he noted.

  Smiling, he looked up through the treetops to the sky above and whispered, “Thanks. If this had gone off, they’d have found me for sure.”

  ~~~~

  After having worked his way through the lowest lying areas of the surrounding terrain, Jessie reined back on Hank and said to himself, “It’s uphill for a bit, but at least it’s into some evergreens where we’ll get some visual cover from above.”

  Nudging Hank forward, Jessie picked his way through the increasingly tighter squeeze between the trees. “At least the fallen pine needles keep the underbrush down.”

  Realizing he couldn’t continue to stay in the saddle since the low hanging branches were getting too tight, Jessie swung his leg over Hank’s back and dismounted. “I’m guessing you needed a break, anyway. Huh, boy?” Jessie said as he began leading Hank by his reins.

  Catching movement up ahead in his peripheral vision, Jessie focused on the area, only to see a glint of light from between the trees. Jessie tossed Hank’s roper-style reins over the saddle horn, smacked him on the rump, and yelled, “Git!” sending Hank darting off into the woods just as a round from a high-powered rifle came smashing into the trunk of a tree next to Jessie’s head.

  Feeling the bits of wood and bark debris slam against the side of his face from the impact, Jessie winced and turned to run into the thickest area of trees in his vicinity. Several more shots were fired in rapid succession as he dodged and weaved, before leaping into a dry rainwater washout for cover.

  Being approximately three-feet deep, the washed-out ravine provided Jessie with adequate cover while he surveyed the scene, trying to determine just how many threats there might be lurking in the woods ahead and around him.

  Several more shots rang out, and Jessie had an eerie feeling they were intended to keep his attention focused and his head down while other threats moved in closer to him.

  If those are the UF hunters, those bastards are probably working as a pack, moving in on my flanks and six, while their buddy there keeps me pinned down.

  Well, I know where he is, and I know he can’t hit me for now, Jessie thought, turning his attention to his other vulnerabilities. Looking down the ravine in the direction where the water that had carved it would be flowing if it were raining, Jessie thought, That’s my only way out of here using cover, but they probably realize that, too.

  Catching him completely off guard, Jessie heard the heavy pounding of boots from a man running toward him on his right flank. Raising the shotgun in the direction of the threat, Jessie saw a soldier enter his view through the thickly-wooded evergreen forest. The man was drawing his arm back as if preparing to throw something Jessie’s way.

  Grenade! Jessie thought as he let the barrel containing the buckshot load fly, striking the man directly in the chest, taking him completely off his feet and knocking him backward as a red mist of blood appeared around him on impact.

  Jessie then ducked down in the ravine as the concussion grenade erupted where the man he’d shot had fallen.

  Hearing more footfalls now from directly behind him, Jessie raised up and swung around, firing the remaining barrel containing the slug. Missing his target, Jessie released his grip on the shotgun, letting it fall to the ground while he drew his trusty Colt revolver. Just as he aligned the barrel of the pistol with the man, he could see the man was aiming squarely at him with an AK-74.

  Upon realization that the man’s rifle was bearing down on him, Jessie prepared for a flash from the man’s muzzle as his brain transmitted the signal to his finger to pull the trigger on the Colt. This split second felt to Jessie as if it was all moving in slow motion. The entire world around him had slowed down to a crawl.

  Just as the man’s rifle discharged and a flash of light emanated from the man’s muzzle break, Jessie’s Colt discharged mere fractions of a second later, sending a recoil impulse into his wrist as he waited for the bullet to strike.

  Seeing the man twist to his side and begin to fall to the ground, Jessie felt a searing burn on the side of his face as he, too, fell backward. As he impacted the ground, now lying flat on his back, Jessie realized more gunfire was erupting around him. This wasn’t the continuation of an attack on his position, however. The men attacking him were now being engaged from other positions in the woods.

  Reaching up to his face with his left hand, Jessie felt the warm, wetness of blood. Working his jaw and neck to ensure he was still functional, Jessie sat up in the ravine and picked up the shotgun.

  Breaking the shotgun open and ejecting the two spent shells, he immediately pulled two more from the bandoleer with his right hand, shoved them into the barrels, and slammed it closed, ready to rejoin the fight.

  Jessie raised himself up to scan the area for targets of opportunity as the gunfire ceased. The violent struggle that had seemed in Jessie’s mind to be occurring in slow motion was now over, having taken place in a span of mere seconds. As his world began to return to focus, Jessie heard unfamiliar voices.

  “Clear!”

  “Clear here, too!”

  “They’re all down!” he heard in the woods from virtually all directions.

  Turning their attention to him, a voice with a distinctly southern accent called out, “Show yourself! You, in the trench, show yourself!”

  Taking a leap of faith that the cavalry had arrived, hoping it was not merely another group of marauders, Jessie stood and held the shotgun out to the side, keeping it in plain view.

  “Drop it!” the voice said.

  Doing as he was asked, Jessie carefully tossed the weapon aside with the muzzle pointing away from him.

  “Hands where we can see them!” the voice called out.

  Once again complying with the orders, Jessie raised his hands above his head to see several figures appear from behind the trees in the woods in front of him. He could also hear movement behind him, confirming that he was, indeed, surrounded.

  Jessie looked the men over carefully. There was no consistent uniform or method of dress. Each man wore a hodgepodge of camouflage clothing, ranging from old-school woodland BDU’s to German Flecktarn, and even the more modern Multi-Cam and Scorpion patterns. Each man had a day pack of one form or another on his back as well and wore face paint in various colors to aid in concealment.

  The only common trait the men seemed to have was they were carrying M4 carbines as their primary weapon, along with load-bearing vests that were well-stocked with fully loaded thirty-round magazines.

  “Come on up out of there where we can see you!” the man
who seemed to be in charge ordered.

  Walking up the sides of the ravine, Jessie stumbled and nearly fell, catching his balance just before tumbling back into the washout. Seeing the men flinch and ready their weapons, he carefully continued up and out of the ravine, standing still and quiet once at the top.

  “Name?” asked the man taking charge, who appeared to be in his mid-forties, wearing mostly Flecktarn.

  “Jessie,” he said, looking the man directly in the eye.

  “Jessie, what?”

  “Jessie Townsend.”

  “How did you end up in a tangle with the UF?”

  Looking around, Jessie asked, “Who are you with?”

  “Don’t make me repeat my question,” the man said.

  Pausing, Jessie thought out his answer carefully, and said, “I ran across a few people in trouble. I helped them, and they’ve been on us ever since.”

  Seeing the two men standing directly in front of him look to each other, the man asking the questions turned back to Jessie, and asked, “Who were they? Who were these people you helped?”

  “Who are you with?” Jessie again asked.

  Seeing the man’s patience begin to grow thin, Jessie added, “Look, we all seem to be on the same side of the fence regarding those occupying foreign bastards, so let’s stop treating each other like the enemy for a moment.”

  “All right, I’ll level with you if you level with me,” the man conceded. “We’re looking for some friends of ours. They went out and didn’t come back as expected. We’re wondering if those were the people you helped.”

  “It was a man and a teenaged girl,” Jessie said, seeing a look of disappointment on the men’s faces.

  Taking it a step farther, feeling he just might be among friends, Jessie added, “The man had just rescued the girl from the UF.”

  Jessie could see that statement rang a bell with the men.

  “What was his name?” the man asked.

  Thinking it over for a minute, and knowing how careful Nate was about revealing his identity to him, Jessie countered by saying, “How far are we from Del Rio?”

  “What?” the man replied with both confusion and piqued interest.

  “The man I was helping told me to head to Del Rio for help.”

  “Look, mister,” the man said, “I can see you're playing it safe by not wanting to give out any more information than you have to. We get it. But we need you to answer our questions. Who were you helping, and where are they now? Tell us what we need to know, and we’ll help you get that cut on your face properly dressed, and you can be on your way.”

  Seeing concern on the man’s face rather than rage, Jessie took a chance. “Nate. His name is Nate.”

  “Is? Is he still alive?”

  “Do you know him?” Jessie asked.

  “We may. Now, please, tell us if he’s okay and where he’s at. Were there others from his group somewhere?”

  “I gave you his first name. Now, you give me his last name, and we’ll go from there,” Jessie countered.

  “It starts with an H. His last name starts with an H. That’s as far as we’re gonna go, not knowing who exactly we’re dealing with. Now, tell us where he is and if there were others. Nate is a friend of ours, and so were the other men he was working with. They didn’t return when expected, and we’re out here to find them. Those UF hunters you encountered were probably looking for them. It was a stroke of luck for us that their attention was on you, which allowed us to move in undetected and engage them while their attention was focused elsewhere.”

  “Lower your weapons and let’s move out of this area before any friends of theirs come looking for them. I’ll tell you everything you need to know along the way.”

  “Along the way to where?” the man asked.

  “To Nate, of course,” Jessie replied.

  Looking Jessie over, the man turned to two of his companions and said, “Search the hunters for anything of use. Get this guy a ‘74, too. There’s only so much he can do with that old shotgun.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lying there in the darkness of her subterranean prison, Britney longed for the ability to sleep. She longed for the ability to make her mind stop running through all of the possible horrors that lay ahead of her.

  Feeling a breath on her cheek, she flinched, only to feel something brush up against her and quickly move away. Her heart raced as she once again knew she wasn’t alone. Was it toying with her? Was it trying to scare her? Or was it interested in her in some other way?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the terrifying blast of the horn used by her captors, and the eerie echoes that reverberated throughout the cave system that followed.

  She could hear the figure in the darkness move away toward the entrance to the chamber. Something was different this time. The horn blast came from a different direction than it had when they had come for Greg. It also had a slightly different tone and duration. Are they communicating with those things? she wondered.

  She waited silently for something to happen, but nothing came. The last time the horn blew, they had arrived quickly to carry Greg away. She assumed this was a good sign, and that the horn didn’t mean what it had previously. She had heard the horn blow from that direction before, and nothing had ever happened. Perhaps nothing would happen this time?

  She began to hear movement in the distance, somewhere along one of the passages of the cave system. She could hear the rattle of chains and the sounds of heavy footfalls getting closer. Her nerves were on edge, and her senses were heightened to the max as she attempted to paint a picture of what was going on around her with sound alone.

  The noise of a scuffle entered the chamber as the sounds approached her. Stopping just short, a thud and the rattle of chains impacting the ground next to her, followed by a moan from a voice that was clearly winded from the impact.

  They’ve got someone else, she thought. Is it Nate or Jessie? Oh, God, please don’t let it be. They don’t deserve this. They’re only in this mess to help me.

  Once the figures that had carried the new arrival into the room had apparently left, Britney said into the darkness, “Who’s there?”

  Startled, the voice replied in Russian, “какие,” or “what?”

  Understanding bits of Russian from her time in the camps with Russian guards, she said, “это нормально,” which means, “It’s okay.” “Do you speak English?” she asked.

  “A little,” she heard the answer in a choppy accent.

  “My name is Britney,” she said.

  “Yuri,” the voice in the darkness replied.

  “Are you UF?” she asked.

  Pausing, the voice answered, “No concern of yours.”

  “Well, we’re down here together facing the same fate, so what does it matter, now?”

  “Fate? What fate?”

  Britney explained to Yuri all she knew from her time in captivity in the caves. She explained the horrors Greg had passed along to her, as well as the horrific screams of agony he had made once he was finally carried away.

  She listened for a response, but Yuri remained silent.

  “Since you won’t tell me, I’m gonna go ahead and assume you’re UF. Do you have comrades out there looking for you?” she asked.

  Yuri again remained silent.

  “Look,” she protested, “I’m not trying to get some sort of military intelligence out of you. I have an interest because I want to know if there is a chance of your friends finding us before they come for me. I just want a glimmer of hope. That’s all. So, stop it with the stonewalling and talk to me.”

  After a brief pause, Yuri said, “Whoever are these monsters… they killed team I operated with. I am sole survivor.”

  With that revelation, Britney’s hopes for a rescue were dashed. Even though the UF were her enemy, and had proven themselves to be time and time again, including their role in the murder of her parents, she had at least hoped she’d be taken once again as a prisoner of
the UF and freed from her underground hell.

  Yuri could hear her begin to cry in the darkness. “Why you cry?” he asked.

  Regaining her composure, she replied, “That’s a pretty stupid question.”

  After a few minutes of awkward silence, she said, “Just so you know, your friends killed my parents. They took a busload of us to a mass grave and began shooting at us, killing everyone but me. You occupiers are not just invaders, you’re murderers. Cold-blooded murderers. You deserve to be down here. You deserve this fate.”

  “No… No, that not true,” Yuri protested. “We are here to restore peace!”

  “Oh, yeah, then what were you doing in these woods? You were looking for us, weren’t you?”

  “Was looking for insurgents,” he replied. “Insurgents that attacked bus.”

  “You can’t really be that naïve… can you?”

  Hearing no response, she continued, “If you’re not that naïve, you’re obviously that stupid, or you willfully accept the lies you're told to help you sleep at night.”

  “No! These words you say are not true! We are here to restore peace!”

  “Whatever,” she retorted, “And now you’re here with me… and him.”

  “Him?” Yuri asked, confused by her statement. “Who is… him?”

  “The one in the darkness that doesn’t make a sound. We’re not alone in here. I doubt we ever are.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Once clear of the ambush site, Jessie and the others stopped for a water break after traveling east on foot for about twenty minutes. “Tell me everything,” the man who had been questioning him asked.

  “Before we get into the details, how about some proper introductions?” Jessie suggested. “You all know my name.”

  “I’m Q,” the man in Flecktarn declared. “It’s short for Quentin. This gentleman is Carl,” he said, gesturing to the man to his right in Multi-Cam. “The gentleman with the big ol’.45-70 lever-gun is Daryl,” Q said as Daryl nodded, tipping his floppy brown leather frontiersman-style hat to Jessie.