The Renegades (Book 5): United

by Jack Hunt

  I chuckled. “Who would have thought that you would become mayor of the Fortress?”

  “Mayor?”

  “Well, you call the shots, right?”

  He paused for a second. “Yeah, I guess I do, I’ve not really even given much thought to it. Anyway, how is that freak of ours doing?”

  “Baja?”

  “Yeah, why the hell haven’t I heard from him? No offense, Johnny, I love chatting but it would be nice to hear from the others from time to time.”

  “A lot has changed here, Specs. All of us live in different towns, well, Baja is in the same town but different home.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think? Everyone wants to be the top dog of their own neck of the woods.”

  Our conversation continued. It always flowed freely and it wasn’t uncommon to find ourselves glancing at the clock and realizing that an hour had passed by. Specs told me to think over the decision a little longer. It wasn’t that he didn’t want me there but he knew that the chance of arriving alive was slim. How we had managed to survive this far was a miracle.

  When I returned home that day, I noticed how quiet it was inside.

  “Wren?”

  I tossed my bag and gun down on a counter and walked through the rooms of the house. Once I made it into the bedroom I noticed the closet door was open and the few clothes she had left at my house were gone. I pulled out the drawers. All of them were empty.

  I fell back on the bed and gazed up at the ceiling. I didn’t figure her the kind to up and leave, then again I hadn’t given her enough reason to stay.

  What do you want?

  Her voice echoed in my mind.

  It’s no different than where you are, maybe it’s even harder. Specs’s words came to me.

  Now everyone has their opinions. Hell, you don’t have to travel far to find someone who sees the world black, while another sees it white. I knew that if anyone ever looked back on my life they would no doubt toss in their two cents about what they thought I should have done. He should have left. He should have stayed. Ah, what the hell does anyone know? Especially those who hadn’t walked in my shoes, seen what I had or been through the trauma of losing family.

  But they were right. Both Wren and Specs. I needed to decide what I wanted.

  As I lay there I heard the front door open.

  “Anyone home?” It was Baja.

  “Yeah, up here.”

  I heard him take two steps at a time. He came into the room bringing with him a rush of air.

  “Well fuck me.”

  “I’d rather not,” I replied.

  “No. Those clothes, dude. It’s time to burn that shit.”

  “These were good back in the day.”

  “Back in the day. It gives me the creeps.”

  “What do you want, Baja?”

  “You remember those rag heads who we brought back? The ones who started the explosion? Someone’s spotted them in the city. A group of us are going out. You wanna come?”

  “Who’s going?”

  “Who’s going? You are usually all gung ho to get out there and shoot shit up.”

  “I still am. I just like to know who I have to rely on.”

  He frowned. “You can rely on us all.”

  “Can I, Baja? Can I?”

  “Okay, dude, you are really weirding me out here. Get your shit together and let’s go bring these mofos back in.”

  I sat up on the bed. “Who gave the command?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who wants us out there?”

  “Sebastian.”

  “Let me guess, he’s not going.”

  “Leaders don’t.”

  “Yeah, why is that? Isn’t a leader meant to lead?”

  “Okay, Johnny, if you are going to get all philosophical and shit on me, I’m gonna leave your ass here. As for me, I’m going to lay down some serious heat on these assholes. I had a good friend who was in that group who burned up.”

  “Alright, I’m coming.”

  I bolted upright and grabbed up my assault rifle. I slid a Glock into the holster around my leg. Tossed a whole bunch of ammo in my small backpack and jumped in Baja’s jeep. He zipped his way through the streets towards section A.

  When we arrived a truck was waiting for us. In the back had to have been at least fifteen people. Another truck idled by with about the same number.

  “Do we really need this many?”

  “I’m not the one calling the shots.”

  “No, we’re not,” I said giving a suspicious look around. I hopped in the back and took a seat across from the others. All of them looked determined as if someone had run over their dog. As the truck pulled away and bumped over the potholed road, I glanced down the line. Rowan, Jess, Izzy and Wren were there. Wren caught my eye but looked away.

  I tapped Baja on the leg. “I am just going to have a quick word with Wren.”

  Slowly I tried to keep my balance and work my way down to her. The truck bumped around and I had to keep a firm grip on rope that was tied to the roof. I looked at Rowan who was squished up beside her. Jess was on the other side.

  “Want to make some room?” I said trying to squeeze in.

  “No. Go take your seat,” Rowan replied.

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  “I’m going to let that one slide.”

  I chuckled glancing at Wren who wasn’t saying a word.

  “Jess, shift over.”

  She scowled and looked the other way. Like what the fuck was this? A game show called The Biggest Asshole? I tried again to squeeze in between Rowan and Wren and he shoved me back into a guy on the other side. I gave him a look of death.

  “You want to do this now?” I asked.

  He laughed. “What the fuck are you even doing here, Johnny? Shouldn’t you be on the beach, whimpering like a little bitch?”

  I glanced down the line of people as my hands balled.

  “Go on. Do it.” He urged me to strike him and oh god, did I want to slam my fist into his face. I caught Baja motioning with his head not to.

  “Maybe another time.”

  Rowan chuckled. “Wimp.”

  Great, I had two females pissed off at me, and one’s brother being a dick.

  Shit, the apocalypse sucked!

  CHAPTER 6

  THEY SAID it would be easy. They lied.

  The men now referred to as the pale ones were last seen in Times Square. While we’d been into the city numerous times on runs, it had only ever been in the south end of Manhattan. Venturing any higher than 8th Street was considered a death sentence. Rumors of new gangs that had formed over the past twelve months, along with sightings of mutations, had spread among the community. We didn’t know what to believe anymore. With so many of us behind the walls, and military personnel more than willing to go on runs, it would have been easy to buy into anything that got shared. Sometimes I think they just exaggerated. You know, told a few white lies about how bad it was out there in order to have something to share around the fires at night. Truth was, we didn’t know. Most of what we had needed was found in Brooklyn. Heading into Manhattan was risky and there was a higher chance of encountering herds of Z’s.

  I stared down at my AR-15. My eyes darted out the back of the truck as it bumped its way across the Brooklyn Bridge. My mind was lost in the past. The truck behind us stayed close. Everyone’s face was a picture of total focus. There was always the slim chance that we wouldn’t come back. No one liked going out. Even more so those who hadn’t crossed the United States like us. It was the reason why when push came to shove and some in the community didn’t want to take a turn, we would be called upon. I don’t know if we were just mental but something rose to the surface when we were squeezed into a corner. It had been the reason we had survived this far.

  With no one to care for the city, it soon changed. Trees, plants and grass had overgrown turning the concrete jungle into a literal one. Ivy, weeds, you name it was spread across
the ground, over abandoned cars and climbing the sides of what remained of buildings.

  As we got closer, Rowan stood to his feet. He barked out a few orders. I flashed Baja a sideways glance.

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was put in charge?”

  “Because I knew you wouldn’t come.”

  “You’re damn right.”

  The animosity between Rowan and me hadn’t become any less even though we hadn’t seen each other in three months. Anger, jealousy and humiliation still bubbled below the surface just waiting to erupt.

  The first few weeks after Jess started seeing him, I tried to reach out to her but I knew it was a lost cause. Whatever feelings she had were gone, or locked down so tight that it didn’t matter what I said, she didn’t want to know.

  To say I was unaffected by it, would be to lie. It tore me apart in ways I didn’t even think it could. At that time, Wren and I hadn’t hooked up, that came later. I think even she thought that my mind was preoccupied. It was. There wasn’t a day that went by in the first six months that I didn’t think about Jess, once, twice, possibly a dozen times. How could a woman do that? Get so underneath your skin that it made everyday tasks hard. I didn’t wonder about what she was doing with him anymore. It was just her. I missed her. Simple things. The small, seemingly insignificant things that I didn’t think would matter.

  “You listening?” A voice snapped me out of the past. Rowan stood in front of me, making it clear that he was in charge and everyone had better pay attention, especially me.

  Elijah sat across from me, his vest loaded with ammo, doing a few final checks.

  “Yep, he heard yah.”

  “We’re going to be dropped off at 42nd Street at the corner of Bryant Park. Fifteen of us will head up 7th Avenue while another fifteen will go up to 48th by way of Avenue of the Americas.”

  “What about the other truck?” someone piped up.

  “They are going to be stopping near the Port Authority terminal and then going up 8th Avenue. How they split off from there is their business. Right now you need to focus on our assignment. The target has been confirmed to be in Times Square.”

  “What are they doing there?” I asked.

  Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “How the hell should I know?”

  “You’ve been placed in charge, haven’t you?”

  He stepped a little closer and leaned down near my face. “If you have a problem, take it up with Sebastian when we get back. If you have a problem with me, I can handle that now.”

  “Like the way you handled yourself a year ago?” I replied.

  “Alright guys, enough with the pissing match,” Ben said.

  “How come they didn’t place you in charge?” Elijah asked Ben.

  “They did, I didn’t want to do it.”

  Ben had pretty much dropped off the map. He’d shied away from leading and chose to stick to what he knew best — policing. Disputes were few in the first six months. After that people started to fall back into old habits. Stubborn characters emerged and riled others up. As they say, humanity loves drama. If people aren’t allowing it to happen, they’re creating it.

  The truck came to a halt and we all hopped out. Rowan in his usual “I like to think I have a big dick” manner started bossing everyone around and separating the pack. Surprisingly he placed me in his group, though I think that was so he could continue our feud. Our group was made up of Elijah, Ben, Izzy, Jess, Wren, Rowan, Baja, myself and seven others. It was a vast improvement over the odds we used to have against us. While you never felt safe on the streets, having fourteen other people to watch your back was reassuring.

  I shouldered my rifle and we jogged away leaving the truck in an alley. A few of them had been stolen in the past. This again only fueled the flames about gangs operating in the city. We had yet to see them. Since crossing paths with the pale ones, we hadn’t seen anyone except the dead. Of course they were always there. Shuffling around looking for their next fix like junkies. But today, we barely saw any.

  I turned to Baja as we pressed on. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Why?”

  My eyes darted around the rooftops looking for any sign of trouble.

  “Thirty people to bring in eight? Doesn’t that seem like overkill to you? And where the hell are the Z’s?”

  Baja screwed his face up. “Do you know how many people they killed?”

  “How many have we killed in our need to survive, Baja?” I paused. “Maybe we shouldn’t have brought them in at all. Have you ever thought about that?”

  “What is wrong with you?” He shook his head and ran ahead. The questions spurred all manner of thoughts, none of which I chose to dwell on long. What were we becoming chasing down those that killed? Had that not been the cause of all of humanity’s trouble? Creating a biological weapon to kill others for some justified reason. It didn’t matter though, did it? As long as groups of people continued to see themselves separate from one another, better than one another, we would always be destined to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. It was a never-ending cycle of fighting to protect and gain something from someone.

  As we ran west on 48th Street, everything about this felt wrong. We rounded a corner that led down into the major intersection of midtown Manhattan. A place that once would have been bustling with traffic and an ocean of faces now looked barren. The once brightly adorned billboards and flashing advertisements were dark and lifeless. Yellow cabs, tall tour buses and once expensive limos clogged up the road. Abandoned. Forgotten. Only the sound of our boots pounding the ground and old newspapers blowing like tumbleweed could be heard. Towering buildings lay in ruin. We climbed over concrete structures that had fallen and blocked off sections of the road. Our hands were blackened by charred metal.

  Ben came up alongside me. “You okay?”

  “If by that you mean, am I okay with whose idea this was, then no.”

  “I’m with you on that. This is unlike them. They have always erred on the side of caution. Let me see what I can find out.”

  Ben jogged ahead and met up with Rowan who tossed him one of his usual looks. As if someone was going to take away his baby rattle. Jess cast a glance over her shoulder at me. I met her gaze and for a brief second I sensed that even she knew this didn’t feel right.

  As we came around a corner that led up to what was known as the Red Stairs, one of several TKTS booths where people would congregate each day in the theater district, we slowed down to a steady jog. On the sweeping cascade of ruby-red glass steps were the eight men. Some of them slouched against the railing; others sat, while a few stood at the top. Upon our approach they stared at us but not even one of them reacted.

  With weapons leveled, Rowan began barking orders for them to get on the ground. In the short time they had been at the community we had learned the name of the one who had done all the talking. He went by the name Steadman. Whether that was a last name or first, who knew, who cared? I just wanted to get this shit dealt with fast.

  “On the floor.”

  I glanced around but didn’t see anything that looked suspicious.

  “Where are the other guys?”

  “Who?”

  “From the other truck. They should have been here by now.”

  “Maybe they got lost,” Elijah muttered with his eyes firmly fixed on the men.

  “Did you hear what I said? Get on the floor now,” Rowan yelled louder.

  Steadman pulled down the Afghani scarf wrapped around his white face. He smiled and raised his hands.

  “Oh don’t shoot,” he said in a mocking tone. A few of the others around him broke into a short-lived laugh. We were about forty feet from them when I noticed one of the men glanced up, another looked in another direction. My eyes darted around as I spun in a circle to get a 360-degree view of our surroundings.

  “Rowan,” I began to yell as from within windows all over all over the plaza rifles began to jut out. But Rowan wasn’t listening to a damn thing. He
adstrong and completely oblivious to what was clearly ambush, he yelled at them, “I will shoot you and not think twice, now get down.”

  A smirk spread across Steadman’s face. He glanced at me and the amusement vanished.

  “Enough, bring them out.”

  “Rowan,” I shouted again. This time he turned and he followed my gaze to the roofs and windows. His eyes widened with the shocking realization that we were truly and thoroughly screwed. At the same time the group that was meant to be coming up from the rear were shoved out. Hands tied and no longer in control.

  Steadman slowly made his way down as if every single step gave him a chance to enjoy the moment. He danced down a few like a tap dancer. He spun a little as he reached the ground, then bowed. Gripping the assault rifle and moving it back and forth in front of him like a dancer’s stick, he got closer to Rowan. Encircling him he came to a stop in front.

  “Oh… how the tables turn,” he said, tossing Rowan’s own words back at him before slamming the butt of his rifle in his face. Rowan dropped down onto his knees, his face a bloodied mess.

  Steadman sniffed the air and tilted his head to one side as he pulled up in front of Wren and Jess then allowed his gaze to wash over the rest of us. Everything he did was with the total sense that he was now in control and we were royally fucked.

  “I guess you’re wondering where all the Z’s are?”

  Oddly enough, we hadn’t seen any on our way up, except a few stragglers down alleys. We had expected the streets would be full, especially Times Square. The city should have been crawling with them but we had seen nothing except bodies laid out in a vast number.

  “While you all have been hiding away in your little hole, we have been taking back the city to make it… you guessed… ours.”

  “Impossible. There were thousands of them,” Izzy said.

  He bit down on his bottom lip. “You’re right but it’s amazing what you can do with some hard work. Or should I say, incentive.”

  His eyes gazed around at the faces that looked down on us. “Maybe a demonstration is in order.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder.

  “We all know that Z’s must have their,” he tapped the side of his head, “noggins dealt with or they rise again. Now that would require a lot of bullets. Something we don’t have the luxury of wasting, but…” he paused. “Bring them out, boys.”