Forsaking Home (The Survivalist Series)

by A. American

  They followed the brass in the lead Hummer up to the command tent and parked out front. As soon as they got out, Doc asked to be taken to the quarantine tent. Ian pointed him to it, saying, “I ain’t going in there.”

  Doc chuckled. “Pussy,” he replied, pulling on a set of nitrile gloves.

  Sarge, Sheffield, and Livingston went on the Command Post and sat down around a small table. Ted and Mike followed, taking a seat on a couple of crates.

  “I’m all ears, First Sergeant,” Sheffield said.

  “We’re going to need to work up a mission plan to try and take over the refugee camp located at the naval bombing range. Right now all I’ve got is the drawing you already saw. The brass says the camps aren’t what they appear. Rumors of forced labor and relocations are coming out of several camps around the country. Worse yet are the rumors of executions.”

  Sheffield looked surprised. “Executions?”

  “That’s what we’re hearing.”

  “We’re going to need to do some recon on the camp. We need to get as much intel as possible,” Livingston said.

  “You said you have some equipment that will help with that?” Sheffield asked.

  “I do, but before we commit to that, we need to send some guys out to find a place we can set it up. We aren’t taking it in there blind,” Sarge said.

  “We can send in some scouts for a little sneak and peek,” Livingston said.

  Sarge nodded at him. “As we discussed earlier, send your marine and these two”—Sarge pointed to Mike and Ted—“and a couple of your best shooters. Five men should be enough.”

  Sheffield looked at Livingston, then back at Sarge. “How about four men and one woman?”

  “I don’t care if you send Sasquatch, as long as they know how to use a weapon and conduct themselves on a recon mission. Why, you got a gal you want to send out?”

  “Yeah, Jamie. She’s a spec four and the best shot in our unit. The guys hate it, but she’s good. She’s a big hunter, bow hunts every year,” Livingston said.

  Sarge turned to look at Mike and Ted. “You guys got any problem with a woman watching your six?”

  Ted shook his head. Mike grinned. “Not me, I’m used to women looking at my ass.”

  “That’s ’cause you’re all ass, dipshit.” Sarge looked back at Livingston. “Let’s get ’em rounded up. We need to kick this off as soon as we can.”

  Ian stuck his head back in the tent. Livingston immediately told him to go find Jamie and the others he wanted on the mission. Ian nodded and waved for Ted and Mike to follow him.

  • • •

  Doc walked out of the tent and made his way to the CP. Sarge and the officers were standing out front. “Hey, Captain, who’s responsible for hygiene around here?” Doc called out.

  Sheffield looked at Livingston. “Sergeant Harmon was pressed into service for that duty.”

  “Where is he?”

  Livingston stuck his head back in the tent and told a corporal there to go find him. “He’ll be around shortly. What’s up?”

  “Those two have dysentery. I want to see the latrines and where you’re getting water from, how it’s treated and whatnot. Are the civilians running their side of camp any differently?”

  “No, we all use the same SOP for camp hygiene.”

  “Hmph. Well, let’s try and fix the issues. I’d prefer if you keep it to just two cases.”

  “I agree, we’ll be swimming in a sea of shit if it spreads,” Sheffield said. “What’s the treatment for them?”

  “They aren’t in too bad a shape. They need plenty of clean water, and if you’ve got any Gatorade or anything similar, it would help.”

  “We have some of the powdered stuff,” Livingston replied.

  “That’s good, we’ll water it down. It will help them replace salts and whatnot.”

  “Doc, Mike, and Ted are going to go do a recon of the camp. I’d like you to stay behind and try and get this issue under control,” Sarge said.

  “No problem, Sarge,” Doc replied.

  A tired-looking black man in his late thirties walked up. “You need me, Lieutenant?”

  “Harmon, Doc here said two of our people have dysentery. He wants to see the latrines and some other stuff. Show him whatever he asks to see.”

  “Not a problem. Glad to have someone around who knows what they’re doing,” Harmon replied. “Come on, Doc, I’ll show you around.”

  • • •

  Ian led the way through the camp, giving the guys the rundown on Jamie. “You guys will like her, she’s funny as hell”—he waggled his eyebrows up and down—“and not bad on the eyes either. She’s the best shot in the unit. She’s also a really good tracker.”

  “Sounds like my kinda woman,” Mike said with a grin.

  Ian laughed. “She’ll eat you for lunch, dude. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  On the far eastern edge of the camp they came to a sandbagged bunker. Ian called out as they approached it, “Hey, Jamie, you in there?”

  A petite brunette stepped out of the entrance. She looked dwarfed by all the body armor and the PASGT helmet on her head.

  “Wha’daya want, Ian?”

  “You’ve been volunteered for a mission. Come with us.”

  “Who are they?” she asked, jutting her chin in Mike and Ted’s direction. Mike immediately noticed her brilliant green eyes.

  “Your new best friends. Grab your stuff, come on.”

  She paused for a moment, not sure whether to believe Ian or not. He was notorious for playing jokes. Stepping back inside, she quickly reemerged with a pack slung over her shoulder. “Where are we going?”

  “For a walk in the woods.”

  Mike stuck out his hand, which she shook. “I’m Mike, and this is Ted. We’re going to go take a look at the FEMA camp at the old bombing range.”

  “Sounds like fun! Is it just us?”

  “We need one more person. I was thinking of getting Perez,” Ian replied.

  Jamie nodded her head. “Grumpy ole fucker would probably like a trip out of here.”

  “Can you go find him and meet us at the CP?”

  “Yeah, I’ll round him up.” She jogged off.

  Ian, Ted, and Mike headed back to the CP. “Dude, she is hot as hell,” Mike said.

  Ian laughed. “Tell me about it. She’s a tough chick too, redneck as they come. Don’t waste your time, though. Nobody has ever scored that one.”

  “Real nice, Ian. You just threw down the gauntlet. Now he has to try,” Ted said, shaking his head.

  “Challenge accepted!” Mike shouted from behind.

  Ted shook his head, Ian laughed. “You better wear your Nomex underwear, brother, ’cause you’re gonna go down in flames!”

  Ted let out a loud laugh. “I can’t wait to see this!”

  • • •

  Doc looked down at the small trench. “This is the latrine?” The visual was almost as bad as the smell wafting out of it.

  “Yeah, I know it’s crude, but it’s the best we can do.”

  Doc looked at the slot trench, which was woefully unmaintained. It was obviously being used to urinate into as well.

  “You know everyone is supposed to cover their waste when they use it, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but some people don’t.”

  “We gotta fix this.”

  “I’m all ears if you know a better way.”

  “Let’s go talk to the lieutenant.”

  Harmon led the way back to the CP. Livingston looked up as they approached.

  “Well, what’s the diagnosis, Doc?” he asked.

  “We need to do something soon. What you guys are doing to manage waste is not helping matters around here. It’s probably why those two are sick.”

  Sheffield grunted. “Tell me abo
ut it, that damn latrine is nasty. I only use it when I absolutely have to. I’ll take my chances and piss in the woods.”

  “That’s another problem. You can’t be doing that either. You’ve got over a hundred people here. If everyone pisses in the woods, this place will be a cesspool.” Doc paced back and forth. “We need to redo the latrine and make a urine pit where everyone goes.” He looked at both officers. “Everyone.”

  Livingston and Sheffield both nodded, admitting their guilt in not following the standard procedures. “Just tell us what you need,” Sheffield said.

  “Hm. I need some empty drums, fifty-five-gallon ones, and some pipe too.”

  “We’ve got a few empties that used to have fuel in them. As for pipe . . .” Livingston trailed off, then looked at Harmon. “We got any pipe you know of?”

  Harmon shook his head.

  “We need some sort of aggregate too. I doubt there’s any gravel lying around,” Doc said, trying to think of an alternate.

  “No, no gravel,” Harmon replied.

  Doc looked sideways at Livingston. “How about cans, like soda cans or food cans?”

  Ian and the guys walked up.

  “Need cans? We’ve got a stack of empty cans and aluminum trays from squad meals. Would that work?” Ian suggested.

  “What the hell you going to do with that?” Sheffield asked Doc.

  “Crush the cans, wad up the trays, and use them as filler for the piss pit. Harmon, you need to find a spot for the new latrine, get all the cans moved over there and have someone crush them all.”

  “Will do, we’ll get started right now,” Harmon said, nodding at the captain. Sheffield dismissed him.

  Sarge stood off to the side during the conversation, as shit holes and piss pits didn’t much interest him. Looking at Ian, he asked, “Where’s this Amazon goddess hunter of yours?”

  “She’s on her way. She’s rounding up the other guy we need.”

  Sarge looked at Ted. “What’s your plan?”

  “I figure we need to go out and poke around for a place to set up an observation point. We’ll do that tonight and then keep an eye on them tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow night we’ll move to the opposite side of the camp, see what we can make out.”

  “You going to take both buggies?”

  “No, just the Hyena. Less tracks.”

  “Sounds good to me. Try and get a head count, equipment, whatever you can see.”

  “Will do. In that case, we need a ride down to the cabins to get the buggy,” Mike said.

  “I’ll take you guys down in the boat. I need to get some stuff from Morgan,” Doc volunteered.

  “Works for me. Soon as your help gets here, you guys head out, and grab all the ammo and grub you want,” Sarge said.

  Jamie walked up with another uniformed man. He was probably close to fifty and had a haggard, hard look to him. Ian smiled at the two.

  “Hey, Perez, you wanna go play hide-and-seek in the woods for a few days?” Ian asked.

  Perez licked his lips and looked side to side. “Who’s it?”

  “They are. We don’t want to be it in this game,” Sarge said flatly.

  “Damn, I hate the hiding part. I prefer to do the hunting.”

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that,” Sarge replied.

  “You guys got all your shit?” Ian asked.

  Perez held up a pack. “Everything I own.”

  Ian and Sarge looked at Jamie. She turned to the side slightly to show the pack on her back. “Oh, you know me, I got my makeup, some bras . . .”

  A slight smile started to crack Sarge’s face when Ian said, “Shit, Jamie, you wouldn’t wear any makeup if you had it”—he paused and made a show of looking at her chest—“a bra, however—”

  “Fuck you, Ian,” she said, kicking sand into his face.

  Sarge was smiling broadly now. “Oh, I like her, she’ll fit right in with these misfits.”

  “They’re your problem now,” Livingston said with a smile.

  Sarge looked at Doc. “Get ’em down the river, Doc.”

  After a quick check to make sure everyone had all the ammo and food they needed, the group climbed into a Hummer and they headed for the boat ramp. Doc took charge, navigating the aluminum boat upriver toward the cabins. Being on the water quieted the group. All conversation ceased as each person took in the view. The lilies swaying in the brown water, the old cypress trees, and the beards of Spanish moss hanging down in the current had a relaxing effect on everyone.

  When they were almost to the cabins, Mike spun around in his chair. “When we get there, we should talk with Morgan. He knows the area and may be able to give us an idea of where to go to scope out the camps.”

  Ted had his feet up on the outboard. Without turning around, he replied, “Great minds, my friend. I was thinking the same thing.”

  Chapter 4

  Tabor sat behind his desk, his usual post. He was camp administrator, and under the current circumstances, it was a job he was thankful to have. He was warm, dry, and well fed. He didn’t have to deal with the scum running around, and he didn’t have to grub around in the dirt to get his food.

  “Hey, Ed!” he shouted at the open door.

  Ed’s head appeared in the open door. “Yeah, boss?”

  “Go get Niigata up here. I want to talk to him.”

  “You going to give those new detainees to him?” Ed asked with a smile.

  “Yeah, I talked to ’em, but they both gave me the same line. He’ll get the truth out of ’em. No one is out just riding around these days.”

  Ed nodded. “Sure thing,” he said, quickly disappearing.

  A knock at the door diverted Tabor’s attention from the stack of papers before him. Looking up, he saw Niigata and waved him in. “Have a seat.”

  Niigata came in and sat stiffly in the chair across from him. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “I’ve got some people detained who I need you to question.”

  Expressionless Niigata nodded. “And what were they doing when you captured them?”

  “Our security guys caught them driving on the road,” Ed said from where he leaned against the door.

  “I see. And this is a cause for concern?”

  “They were armed, that’s one issue, and they were driving a vehicle, which means they have fuel. They were out on the road using that precious fuel, so whatever they were up to must have been important to them, and that’s what I want to know. I also want to know where they live. There may be a rogue element at play. We can’t take any chances.”

  Niigata took in the information. “How exactly would you like me to accomplish your request?”

  Tabor raised his eyebrows. “Do what you do. I just need to know that information.”

  “In that case, there are a number of methods I can implement. I’ll begin with intimidation—”

  Tabor started waving his hands in front of him. “No, no, no, I don’t give a shit what you do, I just need answers to my questions. You figure out how to get them.”

  The faintest tension appeared in the corners of Niigata’s mouth. “I understand. How many are there?”

  Ed passed a form over Niigata’s shoulder. “There’s two, Calvin Long and his son Shane. You’ll have to start with Shane. The boys got a little rough with Calvin. He’s probably got some broken ribs.”

  Niigata reviewed the document, then looked up. “When would you like me to begin my interrogations?”

  Tabor shrugged. “As soon as you can.”

  Niigata nodded and rose from his seat. “Is there any final disposition you would like for them?”

  The question confused Tabor. “Huh?”

  Finally Niigata smiled. “Do you want them to be alive when I am finished?”

  Tabor sat there slack-jawed looking at the man
before him. Ed answered his question. “It doesn’t matter, so long as you are confident you’ve got the info we want”—Ed looked at Tabor—“right, boss?”

  Tabor waved a dismissive hand at Niigata. “Yeah, sure. Now get to it.”

  Niigata bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, sir. I’ll let you know the results.” He turned and quickly left the office.

  Ed came in and dropped into the chair. He looked back over his shoulder to ensure Niigata was gone. “That’s one creepy bastard.”

  Tabor sat in his chair, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “Where’d they get that freak?”

  “Remember Abu Ghraib?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he’s the one you didn’t hear about in the news. Rumor has it he extracted more info than anyone.”

  Tabor rocked in his chair. “Sick fuck looks like he likes it.”

  “Oh, he does. You should see him work, takes people apart like a mechanic would pull an alternator.”

  “Better him than me, I guess. I’m glad he’s here.”

  “Me too. Now let’s hope he gets the information we need.”

  • • •

  The sound of the bar on the door sliding open echoed throughout the building. Jess was curled on the floor, trying to stay warm. Her eyes jerked open at the sound, but the darkness told her nothing of the visitor. Meanwhile, in her cell, Fred was sitting with her back against the wall and her hands resting on her knees. She turned her face toward the din. There was one other sound that instilled more fear in the girls than anything: the jingling keys. In their time spent in detention so far, one of the few pieces of information they could put together was that it was the cruelest guard who would signal his entry by jingling his keys as he walked down the row of cells. Jess inhaled sharply as the sound of keys became audible. The building was as quiet as a tomb, so any sound was magnified. The sharp clanging of the keys reverberated off the walls, accompanied by the sound of boots crunching sand on the cold concrete floor.

  The jingling continued down the row, followed by the sound of metal on metal as a key slid into a lock. The door opened, the dry hinges grinding against one another. When the light hit his face, Calvin turned his head. It was an intensity he’d never felt before. With his hands cuffed to his waist, he couldn’t raise them to cover his eyes.