by Dave Bowman
One block down the dirt road, he blinked.
“What’s that?” his mother asked, craning her neck to see up ahead. “There’s something in the street.”
His eyelid twitched. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
Someone was standing in the middle of the road.
17
A tall, wiry man of about thirty sat in a luxury hotel room, studying the map laid out before him on the desk. He pushed it away, standing up and walking over to the window to look out from his second-story window. He missed the view from the penthouse, but he had better things to do than climb twenty flights of stairs every day. The second story would have to do.
He regarded the downtown buildings and the park adjacent to the hotel. A lot of the neighborhood had burned, and the buildings were charred. At night, what had once been the glistening, sleek center of a thriving metropolis was now dark.
But to Bobby, the scene wasn’t one of ruin, but of opportunity.
The Bridge Street Crew was named after some neighborhood in Los Angeles. It was a tame-sounding name, quickly shortened to the BSC, but he didn’t think about that much anymore. Names didn’t mean too much, but action meant everything. And the BSC had quickly proven themselves to be the toughest gang around.
When some BSC members started jumping parole in California and moving out to Denver, his big brother Randy was at the right place at the right time. Randy and Bobby were mostly raised by their mom, who was too drunk most of the time to keep track of the boys. When Dad came around, things were even worse. Violence was something they grew up on, became accustomed to. The two brothers started hanging out on the streets more and more, and they found a family in the BSC they’d never had at home.
Randy first started running with some BSC members at the age of thirteen. By the time Bobby was twelve, he was joining his big brother on drug deals and small thefts. The two brothers worked their way up the ranks through their teen years, doing bigger jobs and gaining the trust of the higher-ups. The brothers grew a reputation as two guys who would do anything to prove themselves.
Several years before the Hosta outbreak, when the BSC was battling their rival, Los Pumas, the brothers led an attack that ended with over twenty Pumas dead. Randy and Bobby were promoted again. When the head of the BSC was taken out by a Pumas member seeking vengeance, Randy took over.
Together, Randy and Bobby orchestrated a massive attack on their rivals, crippling them and taking out several of their leaders. Then Los Pumas counterattacked. It was all-out warfare between the two gangs for years. Denver Police tried to stop them. But the gangs overwhelmed them, and things spun out of control.
The virus changed everything. It decimated the numbers of the Pumas, but the BSC was devastated as well. Everything was crumbling.
When Randy died from the Hosta, Bobby didn’t have much time to mourn. As the new leader of what was left of the BSC, he had to step up to plate.
While people all over were dying, Bobby got organized. He had his surviving members meet to discuss the future. The first priority was taking over resources and expanding the territory. Now, not only would the BSC have to defend themselves and their possessions, but they would have to worry about having enough food, gas, and other supplies.
The second priority was recruitment. With the city falling into chaos and uncertainty, Bobby was surprised that more survivors of the virus didn’t willingly join the BSC for protection. It helped a little when the gang took over all the supermarkets, gun stores, gas stations, car lots, big box stores, and office buildings. People started to go hungry and had no choice but to join up with the gang.
But Bobby became aware that many people were trying to flee the city. They didn’t want anything to do with the gang. And that enraged him.
He couldn’t let all these healthy people escape – he needed their labor. So one of his first courses of action was to station guards all over the city to prevent people from leaving. They shut down the interstates first, then moved on to the smaller roads. Soon, the population of Denver that was left was trapped in the city.
Most of them surrendered and accepted their new fate in life. Some fought. And the ones who did, mostly lost.
The troublemakers were sent to work camps. The camps and farms addressed the third priority: to become self-sustainable.
Bobby didn’t know anything about farming. But he knew that truck deliveries bringing in food to the city were a thing of the past. So he made sure his recruitment soldiers brought him anyone with agricultural experience. Once he had assembled a group of farmers, engineers, and even a soil scientist or two, he sent them to manage the farms. They rest of the recruits, the ones Bobby couldn’t use as soldiers, were sent to the high-security farms and water treatment plants to spend their days working to feed the BSC’s new empire.
It was all starting to come together. Sure, the population was slashed. Denver was no longer a bustling city. But that just meant Bobby didn’t have to worry about the law anymore. Now, everything was ripe for the taking. And there was almost no one to stop him.
Of course, he still had to deal with attacks from Los Pumas. The rival gang was also recovering from their reduction in numbers. Bobby got word they were recruiting survivors from the suburbs to the north. The Pumas still held their territory in the northern-most parts of Denver, but they became less and less of a threat as the BSC expanded and took over more resources.
No one was fiercer or better organized than Bobby and his crew. The BSC now controlled most of Denver, and they would work on taking over the territory held by Los Pumas. Eventually, they would travel to Boulder, Fort Collins, and Colorado Springs to scour the area for surviving people to join the BSC as security, operations, or on the work camps.
Soon, the BSC would control all of Colorado, and then they’d set their sights bigger. They’d take over the farmland of Kansas and comb the neighboring states of New Mexico, Utah and Arizona for survivors. Hell, one day they’d take over California and the rest of the West Coast. As far as Bobby was concerned, the entire country was just there for the taking. There was no limit to how far he could climb.
They’d rebuild cities and infrastructure, with BSC operations in every town. They’d create a legion of members who would blindly carry out Bobby’s orders. This was beyond his wildest imagining as a kid on the streets. It was beyond anything his brother had ever imagined, either.
Bobby was going to be king.
His hand went to the pistol on the table. Tucking the gun in his waistband, he felt his shoulder twitch. It was a nervous tic he’d had for years, and he hid it well. Today, though, it irritated him. He didn’t want to be reminded of his mortality. He liked to think of himself, like his operation, as a perfect machine. There was no room for flaws.
And his dealings with the little ragtag group from New Mexico had been a thorn in his side for a few days now. His men had failed him, over and over again.
First the little showing at the truck stop. The three idiots in charge of the interstate truck stops in the southern suburbs had botched it up. Some woman had shot one of them and given another a concussion.
And before she escaped, she managed to steal one of his men’s guns. Aaron, who had lost his gun to her, had made his second big mistake in one day: he’d had the nerve to show his face to Bobby again.
Then another few trucks with New Mexico plates charged into his city like they owned the place. Whenever someone from out of town drove into Denver, the protocol was to gun them down, remove any of their weapons (though most people had none), and bring them to headquarters for their assignments. Most people went to the work camps, unless it was a tough guy who Bobby thought could be put to work on security, or someone with specialized knowledge Bobby could use.
But these clowns from New Mexico had driven into Bobby’s turf. His men had spotted three vehicles, but had somehow lost track of two of them, because they radioed in that they saw only one turning around at the road block.
Someh
ow, those bastards were able to take down five of his men. And they made off with their weapons and ammo.
But the final blow had come a couple of nights ago. Bobby was enraged by the tenacity of these outsiders to come riding through his turf and take out several of his soldiers. He’d sent in a fleet of guys to the cabin where the bastards were staying near Idaho Springs. He had expected that would be the end of them.
He was wrong.
Every one of his soldiers had fallen. Every one.
It had been a slap in the face. A handful of nobodies from New Mexico, half of them women and children, had gunned down his men? Somebody would have to pay the price for this.
Bobby had gotten some satisfaction when one of the spies he had sent to the cabin had dragged back with his tail between his legs. Apparently the guy had been knocked unconscious for most of the battle, and he escaped after the group had left the cabin.
The spy had been stupid enough to return to Denver, which was good for Bobby. He gave Bobby useful information about the group, including the name of the leader. Nick.
But the little crew from New Mexico were still out there. They had escaped to the mountains, and none of Bobby’s men had found them. But it was just a matter of time. The BSC were crawling all over those peaks. Sooner or later, they’d run into the little group. And that would be the end of them.
A BMW speeding through downtown stopped in front of the hotel. Bobby looked down at the SUV and smiled. It was one of the men he’d sent to the mountains.
He better have good news.
A moment later, a knock at the door. Bobby bellowed for Gabrielle, his best girl and head assistant, to come in. Not only was she gorgeous, but she had Bobby’s back.
“Bobby, there’s someone here to see you.”
He held up his hand to stop her advance toward him, and she stuck out her lower lip in a pout.
“I’ll meet him downstairs,” Bobby said.
He watched as she turned on her stiletto heels and disappeared out the door.
Bobby threw on his leather jacket and left the room soon after Gabrielle. He took the stairs down calmly, then breezed into the hotel lobby, where several guards were stationed. Travis stood by the door, waiting for his boss. Bobby looked at his face, trying to read it, but it was blank.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Bobby said without breaking his stride.
Travis fell into step with him, following him out the front entrance into the street. He still hadn’t said anything. Which could only mean one thing.
Bobby led him into the parking lot. His shoulder twitched.
“So, what’s the word, Travis?”
Travis took a deep breath. “We saw them. They were heading north on a rural road –”
“Which one?” Bobby interrupted.
“State Highway 311, in the middle of nowhere. I clocked it. They were stopped twenty-five miles north of the intersection with 276.”
“Go on.”
“Well, Randolph and I were parked off the road, overlooking this big valley, when we hear voices. We couldn’t see who it was at first, they were too far away. So we had to get closer. But we wanted to surprise them, so we walked along the side of the ridge – we didn’t drive, I swear. We didn’t start the car or nothing; we were really careful. Just like you told us to be.”
“Spill it, Travis.”
Travis’s face turned red as he struggled to find his words.
“We saw it was them. They’re in only three trucks now, but …”
“Which three?”
“The Forest Service one, the Dodge Ram, and the Ford. That Ford was all shot up, though.”
Bobby nodded his head impatiently.
“There’s still eight of them. Anyway, me and Randolph got behind some big rocks where we could get a good shot on them. I shot first. I was aiming for the bigger guy. But man, that guy is so fast. He was firing back at me before I could squeeze the trigger again.”
Travis looked down at his hands, which were fidgeting nervously as he spoke. He shoved them in his pants pockets and continued.
“Then that blonde girl started shooting at us. Then the rest of them started shooting at us, too. It was all me and Randolph could do to keep up.”
“All of them were shooting?” Bobby asked, his eyes narrowing. “Was the little girl firing an AK?”
Travis’s hands flew out of his pockets to gesture nervously again. “Okay, maybe not all of them. But there were a lot of guns shooting at us. We were outnumbered.”
“And Randolph?”
“He got hit,” Travis said, flinching. “In the head. Died pretty much immediately. I was going to get hit too, if I didn’t get out of there. I figured it’d be better for me to come back and report their whereabouts. If I got killed back there, it wouldn’t do you any good, would it?”
“That’s right, Travis,” Bobby said. “It wouldn’t.”
A nervous smile spread across Travis’s face.
“So you’re not pissed, boss?”
“I’m a reasonable man, Travis,” Bobby said. “Now get back to your guard station in Stonegate. I need you down there.”
Travis’s face lit up.
“Oh, thank you, Bobby! You’re a good man for not holding this against me. I have to say, I was pretty scared to come back here.”
Travis beamed, shook Bobby’s hand, and turned away. He walked off toward the front of the hotel where his BMW was parked with a bounce in his step.
Bobby pulled out his pistol as Travis skipped off. The single, deafening shot broke the silence.
Travis staggered forward, hanging onto his balance for just a split second, before he crumpled to the ground with a thud.
Gabrielle and several of the guards came running into the parking lot with weapons raised. When they saw Travis lying dead on the asphalt, they lowered their firearms.
Gabrielle froze for just a moment. Before the shock and horror could settle on her face, she replaced it with her usual steely expression. She propelled herself forward, sidling up to Bobby like a cat.
“He let you down, baby?”
“Yeah, he did,” Bobby said. He holstered his gun and ran a thumb over Gabrielle’s cheek.
He raised his voice and spoke to the guards. “Don’t let anyone move this body. I want everyone to see this. Everyone needs to know what happens when you don’t follow orders.”
The guards nodded and returned to their posts silently. Bobby refused Gabrielle’s advances and returned to his hotel room alone.
How had the group from New Mexico been able to cause such a ripple in his operation? How had they been able to escape defeat from his best guys?
He was going to take those bastards down.
Even if it was the last thing he did, those people were going to pay.
18
Daniel’s heart began to pound as he drove through the quiet town. As he approached the far end of the neighborhood, where the handful of city streets converged at the single road out of town and the only exit, he leaned forward to get a better view.
“What are they doing?” his mother asked breathlessly.
As the truck moved toward them, the people in the road came into view.
Anne gasped.
A barefoot woman in a tattered dress stood beside a man with a long beard. A small child of about ten stood off to the side. All three of them had guns – the man with a shotgun and the woman and child with pistols. As Daniel drove toward them, they raised their guns and aimed at the truck.
Daniel applied the brakes and came to an abrupt stop, his tires skidding.
“Get down!” he instructed his mother, and watched as she ducked down as far as she could in the floorboard.
With his hands shaking, he rolled the window down partially and held his hands up out into the early afternoon light.
“Don’t shoot!” he called from behind the steering wheel. “We’re just trying to leave your town. If you’ll let us pass, we won’t bother you anymore. We won’t hurt you, I s
wear!”
The people didn’t answer, but the man moved his gun toward Daniel.
Daniel ducked down below the steering wheel just as the man fired. The shot missed the truck completely.
His mother yelped. “Let’s get out of here, Daniel!” she cried.
Daniel’s mind raced. Should he return fire? Should he turn around and retreat back into the town? But there could be others waiting behind him. And this road was the only way out of town.
Barbed wire fencing, cacti and forest lined the sides of the country road.
“There’s nowhere to go! They’re standing in the middle of the road.”
Nowhere to go but forward.
Daniel slid lower in his seat to gain as much cover as possible. He raised the window and jumped as another shot rang out, hitting the dirt several feet from the truck.
“Hold on, Mom,” he said, throwing the shifter into gear. “And stay down.”
The truck set out with a lurch. The gunfire began to come faster as all three of the people on the road started to shoot. Daniel kept to the right side of the street, headed directly for the spot where the man stood, blocking the way.
As the Nissan truck hurtled down the road, the three people kept their position, continuing to shoot. The distance between them and the truck rapidly closed in as a shot hit Daniel’s window. The glass shattered.
But they were too close now to turn back. Daniel accelerated. The woman and child jumped away, running to safety. The man pulled his trigger twice more.
Daniel could see his face for just a split second as the truck was nearly on top of him. The man’s eyes were wild, boring into Daniel with a viciousness he had never seen before.
At the very last second, the shotgun-wielding lunatic jumped out of the way, throwing himself off the road.
Daniel sped past, and in a moment the shots continued from behind them. This time, though, nothing hit them, and soon, they were out of range.