by Hunt, James
Ben groaned from the pain and landed hard on his knee as he pivoted away from the truck, and he managed to keep hold of Connor and Tommy.
Ben searched his surroundings, finding the entire street engulfed in flames. He looked ahead and saw the building that had collapsed in the road. It was a mountain of molten rock and rubble, smoke rising from the debris.
Both Connor and Tommy had passed out. They had inhaled more smoke than their small lungs were capable of handling.
It was the sight of Ben’s lifeless sons that finally overwhelmed Ben. The disparity of the situation and the fear of losing his children pinned him down. But the heat from the fires soon snapped Ben out of his hopelessness. Fear of burning alive had a tendency to do that.
Ben readjusted his grip on his sons, and then hurried out of the way and headed toward the rubble of the fallen building, knowing that getting over it was the only chance.
With shaking legs, Ben hoisted himself upright and took one wobbling step forward. Ben’s knee almost buckled the moment he applied pressure, but he didn’t go down. He maintained his balance and took another wobbling step.
Before Ben knew it, he was moving forward in a steady progression. The fires continued to rage around him, more buildings crumbling to his right. He paid no attention to the bodies he passed, knowing that if he didn’t move that he and his boys would be joining the dead littered on the ground.
Ben reached the mountain of rubble, and stepping over the rocks was like putting his foot down on top of an oven burner. The rock was so hot that it melted the rubber on his soles, making the trek up the jagged mountain of rubble harder than he imagined.
Heat blasted up through the cracks, and Ben watched as pockets of rubble collapsed around him. Every step he took could be his last.
Rising with the fire and smoke, Ben crested the rubble. At the top of the heap, he finally saw the fire line. He was almost out of the worst of it now.
Ben hurried down the other side of the debris, heat rising from the interior, until he finally reached the road below.
Safe from the flames, Ben continued down the road, putting more distance between himself and the fires as she shook Tommy and Connor. Neither of them responded.
“Tommy, Connor!” Ben shouted, but his voice didn’t wake them.
Ben hurried to put more space between himself and the fires, and then dropped to his knees, gently placing both boys onto the ground. He checked pulses for both. They were faint, but there was a beat. He then checked Connor's mouth to make sure he was still breathing, then moved onto Tommy.
Ben stiffened.
“No.” Ben quickly positioned Tommy’s head and neck to open his airway and then proceeded to fill his youngest’s lungs with oxygen. “C’mon Tommy!”
Tommy’s chest and stomach expanded with every breath Ben provided, but Tommy continued to remain unresponsive.
Ben choked back his sobs and kept trying.
Connor woke and then glanced between his father and his younger brother with bloodshot eyes, and then he started to cry.
Ben continued CPR, and Connor dropped to his knees next to his little brother and gently grabbed Tommy’s hand.
Ben stared down at his youngest, Tommy’s body motionless. Soot covered Tommy’s clothes and face. His hair was tussled and dirty.
“Please,” Ben said, pausing between breaths. “Please don’t—"
Tommy coughed, and Ben rolled him to the side. Tommy drew in several ragged breaths, continuing to cough, and finally fell into a steady rhythm of breathing.
Ben picked Tommy up in his arms and held his son tight. “Good, boy.” He gently patted Tommy’s back, and then Connor collided into Ben’s other arm, and the three embraced.
When Ben finally let go of his sons, he leaned back to get a good look at the two of them, making sure neither of them had suffered any more superficial wounds. After a once over, Ben saw they were fine save for the dazed look on either of their dirty faces. Once Ben was sure they were all right, he hugged them one more time and then stood, his legs shaking and weak.
Ben looked back at the fires raging in the city and saw nothing but a sea of flames. Flames rose high into the night sky, billowing smoke that blocked out the stars and moon. The light of the fire cast an eerie glow on the surrounding landscape. It was as though the city of Asheville had sunken into the earth and hell had sprung up in its place.
“Dad?” Connor asked, his voice cracking from fatigue. “Where do we go now?”
Connor was still holding his younger brother’s hand. The pair stood side by side, looking up at Ben with a hint of trepidation in their eyes. He knew they had already been through more trauma in the past hour than they had in their entire lives.
But the road ahead would remain difficult. And it was best they understood that.
Ben knelt and grabbed his boys by the shoulders, pushing them together. “We’re going home. But both of you need to understand that we’re not safe. We might be out of danger from the fire, but the world is different now. Something bad happened, and things are going to get worse before they get better. I need the two of you to stay alert like you’ve done so far.”
Connor and Tommy nodded, though Ben knew they were simply nodding along because that’s what they knew they were supposed to do.
“We’re going to be fine, but we have to remain vigilant,” Ben said, adding a more optimistic outlook for the situation. “We need to remember to take care of each other.” Ben gently cupped each of their cheeks, and then kissed the tops of their heads, their hair smoky from the trek through the city.
Ben stood, and his back cracked when he straightened up. Now that he had himself and the boys out of danger, the adrenaline that he had been riding had fallen off in a steep curve.
All Ben wanted to do at that moment was fall down. But he knew they weren’t out of the woods yet, and they still needed to get to the house before the fires continued north. And based on the strength of the wind, it wouldn’t take them very long.
Before the trio departed, Ben grabbed water from his bag and made sure all three of them drank until they quenched their thirst. After that, he fed the boys some jerky and made sure to eat some for himself.
The food and water helped wake him up a bit, but it also made him grossly aware of the burn on his leg. Ben carefully opened the tear on his pant leg and examined the injury. It was a third-degree burn. He didn’t have the necessary medical supplies to take care of it now, but he decided to at least bandage it to try and keep the wound from becoming infected.
Once he had dressed the wound, Ben gave everyone another round of water and jerky, and then he packed up their gear, grabbed his rifle, and moved through the woods, Tommy and Connor following their father in a single-file line.
Both Connor and Tommy remained good sports for a while, but Ben knew the trip back would be considerably slower than the trip into Asheville. And after twenty minutes, Tommy started to slow down.
“I’m tired, Daddy,” Tommy said, his voice slightly whining.
“Everyone’s tired, Tommy,” Connor said, his voice exasperated with a tone that sounded far too old for his young age to speak.
“We have to keep moving, Tommy,” Ben said, though he slowed his pace. He knew the boys were going to have to grow up faster now in this world. It was the only way that any of them would be able to survive.
“Can’t we just take a break?” Tommy asked.
“We’ll take a break in a little bit, buddy,” Ben answered. “But we need to pretend like we’re tracking, so we have to be quiet.”
Ben had taken both boys hunting. Tommy knew that when they were tracking an animal, it was important to remain quiet and vigilant. But Tommy’s fatigue had worn through the small section of his six-year-old brain that was able to handle a situation reasonably.
Tommy yanked his hand free from Connor’s grip and slammed down onto the ground. “I’m tired!”
“Tommy, get up!” Connor yelled.
Ben spun a
round. “Boys, enough—"
A twig snapped, and Ben turned on a dime, aiming the rifle in the same direction of the noise. He held up his hand, and the boys quieted when they sensed the same danger as their father.
Ben strained his eyes in the darkness, searching for the source. It normally wouldn’t have taken him so long to find it, but the long trek into the city and then their quick sprint out of the fires had stolen some of Ben’s focus.
But the years of hunting in the woods helped him locate the source of the noise, and he spotted three men moving through the woods.
When Ben heard them start talking, he relaxed a little bit, knowing that the enemy wouldn’t be talking so much if they knew they were close.
But the men were talking at a low volume and Ben wasn’t able to hear what they were saying, or what language they were speaking.
The men were heading away from the fires and toward Bear Ridge. Ben thought they must be moving from the city to the smaller towns, wreaking havoc like they had done in Asheville.
Moving in small groups like that was smart. It allowed them to remain elusive and utilize the element of surprise.
Ben considered trying to take them out now, knowing where they headed. But having the boys with him was too risky. He wasn’t willing to put them in danger.
Ben kept a bead on the men through the trees with his rifle, keeping quiet and still until he was sure they were out of range. But just before Ben lowered his weapon, Tommy yelped.
“Ow!”
Connor quickly covered Tommy’s mouth, but it was too late.
The enemy veered in their direction. Ben knew they wouldn’t be able to outrun them, and that left them with only two options. The first was to hide; the second was to fight. And Ben didn’t see anywhere to hide.
Ben kept the boys positioned behind him and then aimed for the enemy through the trees. He lined up the first terrorist in the crosshairs and then squeezed the trigger. The bullet connected with its target, and the terrorist was knocked backward onto the ground. Ben quickly lined up his next shot while the remaining two gunmen separated.
Ben fired his second bullet, the shot piercing through the man’s chest. But as he searched for the third gunmen too much time had passed, and the terrorist disappeared behind a tree.
“Stay put,” Ben said, speaking to his boys, and then he moved forward through the trees.
Ben was exposed as he moved toward his target, but if he moved fast enough, he could surprise his target. A lifetime spent hunting in the woods provided Ben with quiet feet as he maintained a line of sight with the tree the gunmen had hidden behind.
There was no movement, and Ben was unsure of the terrorist’s plan. Did the man think surrendering would work? Did he have a bomb on him, and was he going to kill him in a suicide attack?
The questions raced through Ben’s mind, but when he reached the tree, the shooter was gone.
Where had the man gone?
“Daddy!” Connor screamed.
Ben broke out in a cold sweat. He hurried back to his boys and found the shooter using his sons as human shields.
Tears rolled down both Connor and Tommy’s faces. They shivered and sobbed as the terrorist kept his gun barrels aimed at the back of their heads.
“Let them go,” Ben said, refusing to give up his weapon.
The gunman said nothing.
“I said, let them go!” Ben raised his voice but reigned it back in. He didn’t know who else was lurking in the woods.
It was hard to see the gunman’s face in the darkness, but Ben noticed the man was decked out in the same militia military garb as the sniper on the roof.
The terrorist was white, tall with broad shoulders. By the way he managed to sneak around, Ben suspected the man was well trained.
“What do you want?” Ben asked.
Unsure if Ben would be able to overpower the guy, Ben stepped forward, but his motion caused the gunman to grunt and then pull the boys back.
Ben held up his hand, understanding. “All right. Why don’t you let them come to me?”
The shooter remained stoic and calm, but then he slowly pulled the boys backward with him into the woods. Unsure of the man’s plan, Ben followed but kept his distance. He didn’t want to spook the man too much and cause him to do something rash.
It wasn’t until the man reached a thicker area of the woods that Ben understood the motive. He was trying to find enough cover for him to make a run for it. The gunman pulled the boys near the edge of a rock outcropping.
Ben nodded in understanding. “Just let them go. Please.” His voice caught in his throat, and he heard the desperation in his voice as it rose into the silence of the man’s hard gaze. “Please.”
Connor and Tommy continued to shiver and sob, Connor holding onto Tommy’s hand. And then as quickly as the gunman appeared, he vanished behind the rocks.
Ben rushed forward and placed both of his boys behind him, and then immediately raised his rifle to shoot the terrorist, but the foliage was too dense and thick. The shooter was gone.
Ben lowered the weapon. He didn’t understand why the man had run. He could have easily killed his boys and Ben, but he chose to let them all go. It didn’t make any sense.
Ben returned his attention to Tommy and Connor, and once he determined they were unharmed, he relaxed.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Tommy said.
“It’s fine,” Ben said. “Just remember to be quiet, all right?” He kissed them both and then stood, looking back in the direction where he had shot the two other men. He might find answers on the dead men.
Ben ordered his sons to stay close and made sure they didn’t see the bodies.
The first terrorist Ben examined revealed no new information. The second body provided more insight as Ben searched the gunman’s pack and found C-4. Ben froze at the sight of the plastic explosive, realizing how close he had come to blowing the man to bits. There were no detonators, just the explosives.
Ben figured this group was responsible for the pair of explosions he had heard earlier. But with the amount of C-4 that was left, Ben didn’t know what else they would want to blow up.
Ben closed the pack and left the explosive. He didn’t want to risk carrying the material with his boys, and he had no use for it. His knowledge of plastic explosives was limited, but he understood the basics. C-4 had been one of the subjects touched on during his tactical training.
“Daddy?” Connor asked.
Ben turned away from the bodies and rejoined his sons.
“C’mon,” Ben said, keeping his voice hushed. “We need to keep moving.”
Ben knew the boys would be tired again, but he wanted to take advantage of the jolt of adrenaline coursing through their bodies before it faded. Plus, the fire was still behind him, and the gust of wind at their backs would hasten the fires spread north toward Bear Ridge.
Ben needed to get home before the flames reached the house. And he needed to keep his eye out for any more of the terrorists lurking in the woods.
10
L iz hadn’t heard the echo of the gunshot that had put the bullet in Harry Simmons’ gut, but she did hear Nancy and Margaret’s screams from her driveway, which caused her to sprint outside.
Nancy and Margaret carried a wounded Harry between them, both of them buckling from the man’s dead weight.
Liz rushed down the driveway to help, relieving Margaret, who had already ditched her heels and padded along in her bare feet. For a short man, Harry was heavier than he looked.
“Margaret, hold open the door!” Liz yelled.
Margaret stepped out of the way as she held the door while Liz and Nancy carried Harry through the opening.
“Easy, watch his arms,” Liz said.
“Oh my God, what happened?” Susan had one hand over her mouth and the other on her stomach when Nancy and Liz entered the house.
“Lester Percy shot him!” Margaret exclaimed.
Liz saw the blood dripping down the front of
Harry’s abdomen and onto the floor. “We’ll put him in the spare bedroom.” Liz directed Nancy to the left down the hallway and passed the stairs.
Panting and exhausted by the time they reached the bedroom, they barely managed to get Harry onto the bed, where Liz propped a pillow under Harry’s head.
Margaret and Nancy were both out of breath from the exertion, and the walk had distracted them from Harry’s condition. The moment both of them took a good look at Harry on the bed, they broke out into tears all over again.
“Harry,” Margaret said, kneeling by the bedside and stroking his thin wisps of hair. “Harry, can you hear me?”
Harry’s breathing was shallow. Harry’s complexion was also pale and sweaty, and his eyes were open only as tiny little slits. Harry opened his mouth, but instead of saying anything, he barely mustered another wheezing breath.
Nancy remained by the foot of the bed. She hugged herself, unable to stop shaking, and stared at the bloodstain that covered her father’s stomach.
Harry still had his hands over the wound, though Liz doubted he had the strength to keep the needed pressure.
“What do we do!” Margaret looked up to Liz, who was as in much shock as the other two women. But Margaret looked up at Liz as though she expected her to cure her husband’s injury with a quick snap of her fingers.
“I don’t…” Liz fumbled over her words. The moment was overwhelming. She had some first aid training that Ben had put her through, but nothing like this. The blood, the smell, the fear, it was enough to sour her stomach.
“Elizabeth!” Margaret shouted.
Liz shut her eyes, trying to recall her first responder training. “Ah, we need… We need to check for an exit wound.” Liz opened her eyes and then quickly moved to Harry’s bedside. “Help me roll him to his side so I can check his back.”
Margaret positioned herself next to Liz, and the pair of women placed their hands on Harry.
“Gently,” Liz said. “Very gently. One. Two. Three.”
They lifted in unison, gently rolling Harry onto his side, which exposed another patch of blood that had dampened his shirt. But Liz wasn’t sure if that was from the front wound that had just leaked around to his back, or if it was the product of an exit wound.