“We would love to,” Russell said. “But it's not that easy at the moment. There's no doubt you have people out there looking for you, and they're going to come after us.”
“We'll just explain to them that it was a misunderstanding, like you said,” Dustin said.
“Yeah, and no one gets hurt,” Daren said.
Dillon remained quiet and stared at the floor as Russell continued.
“You see boys, three of our friends went into town a couple of weeks ago, about your same ages. During a supply run, they were ambushed, beaten, and taken prisoner. Our info led us to your neighborhood. We must have been wrong on the house, but my men didn't know any better. I guess in all the excitement, for a moment, they thought you were them.”
“Then why would they tie our hands behind our backs?” Dustin asked.
“I admit it, they overreacted,” Russell said.
“Overreacted?” Dustin cried. “They killed our uncle!”
“And I'm very sorry for that. I know how tragic it is to lose someone. My dear friend, Frank, was killed as well.”
“Just let us go. It's all we want. Our parents are probably worried sick,” Dustin asked.
“They're not going to,” Dillon said, speaking up for the first time. His brothers looked at him with surprise. “Don't you see? They're criminals, and criminals don't let anyone go.”
Russell examined the strange boy, trying to figure him out. “I think you're mistaken. We're not bandits at all, we're defenders of liberty here.”
Dillon looked up and spoke contentiously as his eyes peered out from under his dark bangs. “Our group will find you soon, and when they do, they'll get all of you.”
“You don't say?” Russell responded.
“That's right, they'll get back at you for what you did to our uncle.”
Dustin turned to his brother with a look of distress. “Dillon, shut the fuck up, man.”
Russell raised his hand. “Relax, Dustin. If your brother has something to say, let's hear him out.” Russell then looked to Dillon. “Please, continue.”
“Just let us go before you guys find yourselves in some really serious trouble.”
“Dillon, I want to ask you a question. Do you trust me?” Russell asked.
“Do I trust you?” Dillon repeated back in disbelief. “Of course not. I don't believe a word you're saying.”
Suddenly Russell pulled out his large Ka-Bar knife from its sheath and waved it in the air directly in front of Dillon. “How about now?”
The boys froze at the sight of the seven-inch blade. Kyle grimaced from behind. Russell's erratic behavior seemed to have increased over the past couple of days. Maybe it was the increasing pressure of their long-term goal, or maybe it was something else.
“I'm a practical man,” Russell continued, with the knife still in the air. “So here's what we're going to do—” Before he could finish, a violent coughing fit seized him, and he doubled over in a series of hacking gasps.
Dillon watched as Russell's frail arm clung to his Ka-Bar. Seeing an opportunity, he leapt up from his chair and tackled Russell to the ground in a startling fury. As they crashed onto the hardwood floor, Dillon's unexpected actions had the entire room in shock. His brothers were stricken with fear and slow to react. Billy immediately aimed his rifle at the men scuffling, but Kyle blocked his path.
“No!” Kyle shouted. “Don't shoot!”
Dillon was on top of Russell trying to pin down the arm that gripped the Ka-Bar. They grunted and spat through clenched teeth. Dillon had the upper hand, and Russell attempted to hold the sixteen-year-old back, calling on every last bit of strength he had left. The knife wavered in the air, its blade inches from the boy's eye. Just as Kyle was about to kick Dillon, Russell cried out and managed to throw Dillon to the side. With all the energy he had left, Russell rolled on top of the boy and pushed the knife into his chest with one sharp thrust.
The blade entered with ease as Dillon's head jerked up in petrified horror. His eyes turned to gleaming white saucers as his eyes rolled back into their sockets. Blood ran up his windpipe and flowed out of his mouth. Russell pushed the blade deeper inside, all the way to its hilt.
Dustin jumped up from his chair and ran at Russell from behind, only to be met by the swift buttstock of Kyle's rifle. He collapsed on the ground in a fetal position. Kyle swung the rifle around and pointed it at Daren, who had just gotten up. Daren slowly sat back down. Quinn, Kyle, and Eli surveyed the room in disbelief.
Russell pulled the knife from the boy's chest and rose to his feet. Dillon's body twitched in violent spasms. His face had a look of pure horror as his breathing slowed and his pupils dilated. Then his body went stiff, as if all life had just escaped. Russell stood above him, holding the blood-soaked knife. His long, stringy hair covered his face.
Kyle approached slowly from behind with his rifle raised. “Russell? You all right?”
Russell turned around, breathing heavily, and shook his head in disappointment. “A damn shame...” he said, trailing off. “A real damn shame.”
Dustin cried out from the floor, covering his face with his bloodied hands. Daren sunk back in his chair, pale as snow. Russell walked to Dustin and pulled him up. The boy fell down on his chair the minute he was released. Once Russell caught his breath, he held the knife up again to reiterate his comments.
“If you boys are right about others coming to get you, that leaves us with only one choice; we have to be ready. Like it or not, you're with us now.”
Trauma was evident on their teary-eyed, frightened faces.
“Do you trust me now?” Russell asked.
Silence was their answer as they nodded their heads in agreement.
Practical Measures
The solemn mood of the camp followed them into the next day. James awoke before everyone else in the cabin, still reeling from the terrible night before. It was a little after five in the morning, but as he sat up in his bed, he contemplated where they had gone wrong. He had been too eager in pushing his friends to come to the place. He realized that he had always wanted it to work, blinding him from the reality of dangers that existed in others.
He slowly got up from his bed and pulled the blankets off the mattress. He then folded them and placed them neatly at the end of the bed. Looking at his packed bag, James felt more determined than ever to leave that morning.
He looked over at Mark and Janice sleeping soundly in the next bed over. Next to them was Christina, with Paula above her. The college kids at the end of the room had slept through the night and weren't aware of anything that had happened. James would offer them a stern warning about the dangers of the camp, but his primary concern was his own people.
He noticed that Danny was noticeably absent from the college group. He hadn't been seen since that fistfight he’d gotten into, which left Jeff bruised and sore for days to follow. Danny, perhaps ashamed, had since avoided the cabin altogether.
Wearing the same clothes from the day before, James walked to the cabin window and looked out. The sky became alive with the coming sunrise. The guards were rotating, and James watched as two armed and bearded guards replaced two other similarly bearded guards at the gate. He instinctively raised his hand and felt the recent thickness of his own black and graying beard and wondered to what extent he was one of them. No. The night before had proved that he was not.
He was a prepper. Not an outlaw or vigilante or militia man waging war against the government. If anything, in the end, all James wanted was to see his son and grandkids again. That would be enough for him.
The new guards looked brisk and attentive. James couldn't recognize them as anyone he knew. Plans of escape ran through his mind like items on a shopping list. He thought of bribing them, but he had nothing of real value to barter with. He wasn't, under any circumstances, going to give them his weapon. He thought of breaching the walls, but then thought of Paula and how difficult it would be for her to do such a thing.
He thought of sh
ooting their way out, and then again, Paula came into the equation. He found himself left with only one option, the same conclusion he had come to the night before: he would talk to Russell and be as upfront and honest as he could be.
James watched as Russell’s men emerged from their cabin, ready for their morning physical training. He scanned the area for any sign of the Wilson boys but saw nothing. He then went over to Mark and tapped him on the shoulder.
Mark jolted awake, shaken. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Still early,” James said. “Let's go ahead and get everyone up and ready. I want everyone to have breakfast while I talk with Russell.”
“Eat and run? I don't know,” he said jokingly. “Kind of makes us look like a bunch of assholes,” Mark said, yawning.
“Just do it. Could be our last meal for some time.”
“What about them?” Mark said, signaling to the college students.
“Don't spread our plans around until after I've spoken to Russell.”
Mark nodded in agreement. Janice was turned on her side, soundly sleeping as he nudged her awake. “Come on, babe. We gotta get out of this place,” he said.
James exited the cabin out the back door to find Russell. Low key, he thought. Just remain low key.
It was breakfast time in the dining tent, and James's group hadn't said a word of their plans to anyone, even after Shane from the college group asked them what they were doing today. It was another oatmeal and grits morning, and almost everyone was baffled that the earlier purge hadn't yielded much in terms of morning chow.
There was tension in the air as Danny stood at the kitchen serving station, looking at the backs of his former friends turned toward him. He hadn't spoken to them since the fight with Jeff. And no one, it appeared, wanted to speak with him. Russell had him moved to Cabin A, with hopes to harness his violent nature for the betterment of their mission.
Jeff wasn't at breakfast. The fight had left him bedridden the past day. The dining tent was full of quiet chatter. Mark, Janice, and Christina tried to make everything look normal as they scooped the bland contents of their bowls without much interest. Inside, however, they were focused.
Paula hadn't said much about anything over the past few days, which worried Christina. She continued to worry about Terrance and her sons. It had been three, maybe four days with no explanation of why they hadn't already shown up. She felt lost and angry as a result, but tried her best to conceal it for Paula's sake.
Breakfast continued when all of a sudden, they could hear boots stomping around the camp. The outside activity caught the attention of Russell's men, and they quickly got up and left. Only the college students and James's group remained. Janice looked to Mark for answers. Mark shrugged as they tried to listen Russell’s men talking outside.
“What's all the hustle about?” one voice asked.
“Something's going down. We're told to get ready,” a rapidly breathing voice answered.
“Get ready for what?”
“I don't know. Got word that an outside party is planning an attack on the camp.”
“Holy shit.”
“That's what I said.”
Though James’s group couldn't see anyone, it was clear that the camp was on heightened alert. The news made their situation worse, though it also justified their leaving.
The group left the dining tent and saw Russell's men running around setting up defensive ground positions on all sides of the camp. Something big was about to go down. The camp was looking more secure by the moment. To their surprise, Russell, Kyle, Eli, and James walked by from a distance, looking all very serious. Russell was in full command mode, wearing green and black fatigues and black boots. He led his men in circles, giving orders left and right.
“Let's go, Paula,” Christina said, taking her daughter's hand. “It's not safe for you out here.”
Mark and Janice followed, ready to pack their bags with the hope that they would soon leave.
James followed Russell, feeling both frustrated and foolish, still trying to get a moment for a word with Russell. There was talk of an attack on Camp Liberty in retaliation for the purge. Russell looked wired and more paranoid than ever. He had a notebook in his hand and repeatedly flipped through it while giving orders. Thus far, the men had constructed several embankments within the camp. Lookout towers were being hastily constructed as the men worked together like synchronized machines.
Russell pointed outside the gate. “I want tripwire set up around the perimeter, a quarter mile outside camp. Set some bullet traps. I'll give you the diagram on how to do it. It’s simple, you just need a firing pin and a bullet. Once they step on the platform, it'll alert us to their presence. I also want sticks filed down to the sharpest we can get them. Set some foot traps all around the perimeter, Viet Cong style.”
Russell talked a mile a minute. His demands seemed to have no end as his men ran around in a frenzy. There was not a slacker in the bunch. At least they'll be prepared, James thought. During a momentary pause, he cut in, taking Russell by surprise.
“Could I talk to you in private?”
Kyle and Eli took notice and looked at James with suspicion.
“What is it?” Russell asked, clearly bothered by the request.
“Just a few words. It's important.”
“What is this about?” Kyle interjected.
“I just need to speak to Russell. Is that allowed?” James asked in a sarcastic tone.
“Of course, of course,” Russell said, waving Kyle off as if to dispel the rising tension. “My cabin, five minutes.”
“Thank you,” James said, walking away.
Russell went back into command mode almost immediately. “Where is everyone? I need all hands on deck. Where's Shane and the others?”
“I don't know, Russ,” Kyle said.
“Well, get them out here,” Russell said, smacking his hands together. “This is not a drill, this is real world shit here.”
Kyle signaled to Eli. Eli knew exactly what he meant. It was time for him to get everyone.
James walked past Cabin C, trying to see inside. He was certain they were holding the Wilson boys in there. He headed straight for Russell's cabin, but stopped at Cabin B to give his group a head's up. He walked in to find them packing.
“Everyone stay on their toes, it's getting a little crazy out there.”
Mark stuffed his backpack shut, then turned to him and spoke quietly. “Is it safe to leave yet?”
“We're going to talk soon. They're looking for everyone to lend a hand out there. Try to stall them the best you can. Eli's headed here any second.”
“OK,” Mark said, “Hurry.”
James shut the door and went right for Russell's cabin.
While waiting outside the small wooden shack, James considered walking in and looking around. He wondered what farfetched plans that Russell had floating around his office. He pushed the door open slowly, then stopped. It wasn't worth it. Commotion was in the air and Russell's men moved swiftly and with purpose. He soon saw Shane join the ranks and assist with digging a foxhole. Moments later, Russell finally emerged, clutching a book of military tactics. He was alone but looked irritable. Surprisingly, he remained cordial as he pushed his cabin door open.
“Hi James, sorry about that.”
“No problem, Russ,” James said.
Russell moved through his small room like a hummingbird. He searched through the mess of papers, notebooks, and journals without paying James much mind.
“Is everything OK?” James asked, trying to sound concerned.
Russell stopped and sat at his small table. “A little crazy right now. Please, have a seat.”
James closed the door and took a seat on the other side of the cramped table. Russell offered him a cup of coffee, which he accepted. They both took a couple of sips before James began.
“How are those kids doing? The ones from last night.”
Russell stiffened at the mention of them. H
e nodded with much enthusiasm. “They're fine. A good bunch, those boys.” At first, Russell didn't make eye contact, but after taking a deep breath, he looked right at James, smiling slightly and confidently. “I know things got fucked up last night. And I know about your reservations. Just know that nothing like that will happen again. You have my guarantee.”
James decided to get right to the point. “My group and I have discussed some things, and we've decided that it's time for us to move on.”
Russell didn't flinch. His eyes remained locked on James. “Move on?” he asked.
“I just wanted to come here and offer you full disclosure. We truly appreciate you and your people taking us in, and everything that you've done for us. You have nothing but our gratitude and respect.”
“Is this about last night?” Russell asked, point blank.
“Yes and no.”
“I already thought I made that clear. It was a mistake. My guys screwed up, and it won't happen again.”
“There are no judgments on our part. We're only doing what we feel is in our best interests. It's time to move on.”
“You're going to put them all at risk like that? Are you ready to accept the responsibility when your group gets attacked, or worse?”
“Frankly, Russell, we don't feel so safe here anymore. That's the honest truth. But regardless, our minds have been made up, and that's that. Again, we are deeply grateful for your hospitality.”
Russell's hand ran down his camouflage shirt to the knife sheath on his belt. His fingers tapped in unison as he considered the news.
“OK, James,” he said, looking up. “We hate to see you go, but if that's what you want, best of luck to you.” He stuck his hand out for James to shake. James gripped his cold palm in a cordial parting.
“We'll be out of your way in no time,” James said.
“Take your time,” Russell said.
“Thank you. I'll make sure that everyone says goodbye.”
“Sounds good.”
James stood up slowly and stretched. He turned to the door and began to walk out.
End Days Super Boxset Page 204