by Angela White
Peggy arched a sexy shoulder at Doug as she rinsed. “It would probably be best if you left now.”
Doug forced his feet to work. What did I come in here for?
Behind him, the hens cackled.
2
Wanting Kenn in on this run, Adrian slowed down as he neared the small, neat tent Tonya had put up herself. Right in the center of the female canvas area, she wasn’t able to get away with anything. Her convertible had been traded in for a sturdy truck, the fake accent was gone, and that shorn hair had drawn attention. The camp knew what Kenn was trying to do, and to the surprise of the Eagles, people were helping her. When Tonya went against an unspoken rule, camp women took the time to correct her. It wasn’t always gentle, but it was effective–mostly because she was listening. Tonya’s reform was a learning experience.
“Do I have to?”
“No.”
“What happens if I don’t?”
“You’ll lose progress and have more work to do later. Up to you.”
Kenn didn’t sound like he was being hard assed, and Adrian changed directions; sure they were discussing how she was running the pharmacy. Kenn’s transgressions were ones to rival Tonya’s, and it was uplifting to have them both trying so hard.
Kenn was handling his outcast status well, not even voicing a protest at being forced out of the level tests as an instructor. The Eagles had done it intentionally, causing double pain. Kenn wasn’t really one of them and they were making sure he knew it.
Adrian headed for the parking area, confident that Kenn would join him soon. This was the first time he had sent so many teams out of camp all at once, and he wouldn’t be able to relax until they returned. Kenn would know that and keep him busy, like the Marine was still doing with the grief that was lingering over Alexa and Connie.
Adrian winced, distracted himself with the sight of Cynthia and Matt awkwardly setting up a large tent to work in. The hand-cranked machine to print her paper was already waiting in a crate for her use. The reporter didn’t know it, but she would help push these people into another level of cooperation and manipulation. If it was in the paper, it must be true. Everyone knew that.
Marc was aware of Angie watching with open longing as he and the others prepared to leave. Over half the bruised Eagles were going, but not her. She hadn’t been cleared for full duty yet.
“You should take her along as your right hand,” Adrian offered, coming up next to him. “We both know that’s all she wants.”
Marc stared at Adrian for a long moment before speaking his mind. After last night, he was in control with Angie, but with other males? Not so much.
“I don’t need your help to make her happy,” Marc warned.
Adrian wasn’t about to argue that point. “Shall I surprise her with it, then, and be slapped by the heat of her smile while you watch?”
Trapped into accepting the gift, Marc felt that inner male wanting to lunge out and draw more blood. “Be careful. I won’t stand for much interference.”
“Understood,” Adrian grunted, pushing away the need to respond in kind. “Now go tell her, so she’ll have time to get the new vest setup.”
Distracted, Marc spun that way, frowning. Why hadn’t she already been given one?
Adrian motioned to the other team leaders, and got nods in return. They were set. He pushed the button on his barely working radio carefully. Since the sinkhole, well over half of their communication devices were useless. “Hurry home.”
Headlights flashed in comforting response.
3
Wichita appeared completely abandoned to the four teams approached. Through the trees, that dark city skyline was haunting and a somber mood settled over the Eagles. No one envied the men sent to gather supplies from that menacing mausoleum. It looked like a place where death still lurked openly, eagerly waiting for those who would trespass.
As they reach the city, the four teams split up. They all had a destination, a much-needed goal, and a long day ahead of them. Due to the other half of the level tests being tonight, some of the returning teams would have to relieve those who were standing watch while they were gone. Even with the three new rookie teams being formed, they still only had eighty-seven Eagles.
They currently had three missions taking place inside those dark halls and rotting buildings. Neil’s team was on a search and rescue for the trader hostages just outside the city limits. Zack’s team would secure a load of fuel–jet and normal–if they were lucky. From the heavy squat of the tires on some of the heavy planes and trucks that the recon scouts had seen lined up around undamaged terminals, the odds were good. Unless they built vehicles than ran on something else, survivors were either stuck using what was left from the war, or just plain stuck wherever their luck ran out. Adrian was determined to get his camp to the mountains, and if they found enough fuel today, he could stop worrying about it.
The second mission was headed to the Reddi Industries Plant to find water. Samantha’s idea was a sound one. The chance that there had been water cleaning taking place when the war came was good. It stood to reason that if it hadn’t been looted already, the water would still be there, waiting to be drained into Safe Haven’s trucks. If there wasn’t any water in the clean tank, they had instructions to attempt hooking up a power source and following the codes and specs they could find. Water was badly needed. Seth and his men had charge of that mission, with Jeremy along as Samantha’s personal guard.
The third team–Angela and Marc, surrounded by his crew and a team of rookies–was going to the Westlink Branch of the Wichita Public Library to research a number of things and bring back medical and gardening books. Among their other more pressing needs, Adrian had them gathering information on projects that would take a while to put in place, like solar panels to absorb the energy from their truck-tops. Driving or parked, they would be collecting power and eventually become self-sufficient, in so far as power.
When finished, all teams were supposed to report to the treatment plant and either help with gathering and cleaning water, or provide extra protection for the trip back to camp. All four teams would travel together to provide less opportunity for anyone hoping to take what they gathered. It was a lot of risks, a lot of time for something to go horribly wrong, and all of them were aware of it.
“This is creepy.”
Zack agreed with Allan’s observation. They were slowly rolling through the suburb outside the airport, and the sense of emptiness was everywhere.
“Do you think the whole city is this way?”
Allan meant the weather-abused, but otherwise undamaged neighborhood around them. Some of the homes still had cars parked neatly in weedy driveways and sprinklers set up. If not for the mildewing Christmas decorations and grass growing through the pavement, it could have been before the war. The effect was enough to make stomachs tighten with longing, while hearts clenched in grief. Their generation would probably never know this lifestyle again.
“What were the numbers for?” Lee asked.
Zack peered through the window, studying the painted and carved numbers that were on most of the front doors. “Number of dead, I guess.”
“What about the letters after them?”
The trucker stared, noticing that A and S were the only letters. Some of the numbers were low, four and five the most common, but a good deal of them were over fifteen.
The Eagles’ dismay changed to horror as they rounded the next block. On these doors and windows, below the numbers and that one letter, were silent screams.
21 S
No food
Please help us!
18A
Starving!
39 S
Murders! Need law!
11S
Will trade bullets for food
“Alive,” Allan moaned in horror. “They were survivors!”
“This isn’t good,” Lee stated sickly from the backseat. They needed the fuel from the airport, but not the depression that would come after t
his trip’s pictures were shown to Adrian.
5S
Need medicine!
8S
Missing! Ashley Simmons
Black hair, 5’3
Needs medication!
Zack increased their speed so that reading the notes was harder. In the UPV behind them, those pushing the buttons captured another of the tragic effects of the war. This city had clearly tried to keep itself together and succeeded in avoiding the looting and arson that most places had dealt with, but it hadn’t mattered. They’d gotten no help. And the smell was identifiable now. It was the dead, their rotting slowed by the dampness of both nearby rivers and barricaded basements. Adrian wouldn’t sleep for days after he viewed these pictures.
Zack began driving erratically so that the images wouldn’t be as clear.
Behind the airport, the city of Wichita groaned and creaked in neglected decline, lower areas now marshy swamps only fit for reptiles. In them, pythons had already begun to spawn unchecked. Moving up from the south in search of food, these snakes took over each waterway as they progressed, leaving eggs.
“This is a Safe Haven mission team. We are a convoy of Red Cross survivors picking up refugees. Is anyone out there?” Allan had to try.
“No way, man. It’s been six months.”
“Hello? This is Safe Haven. Can anyone hear me?”
Zack didn’t protest again. If it comforted him to try, what would it hurt? They were packing enough heat to take over a neighboring land, and this place was a ghost town–
“Help us!”
The shout was faint but clear enough to transmit over all the radios on their channel.
“We’re out, but they’re coming!”
They waited only a few more seconds before Neil’s ecstatic voice came over the radio.
“Help is on the way! Keep transmitting if you can.”
Finding the hostages at the boarding school would make up for what they were seeing. Allan was glad the kids the men had tried to sell to Safe Haven were here and alive (there was no mistaking the youth in those shouts) but the thought of going into a ghost town still wasn’t sitting well with him. Allan didn’t consider himself superstitious, but then, he hadn’t considered himself a hired killer either, and that’s exactly what he’d become. Adrian had bought his loyalty with confidence and power, and Allan was grateful he’d had the good sense to agree.
Zack spotted the grungy planes and trucks lined up across from them and headed his team that way. The abandoned feeling was prevalent, but the Eagle didn’t let his guard down as he scanned the windows and doors of the terminal. There was no damage other than nature, no signs that anyone had been here since the war. Even to hardened men, it was eerie.
Zack felt his training kick into gear as he pulled the ugly green Bronco to a stop in front of the first fuel truck. “Let’s get it done and get home.”
Eagles spilled out, and Zack joined them with the mantle of leadership firmly in hand. He’d gone from a driver to a leader. The feeling was everything he had hoped it would be while laboring under Kenn. He would never go back.
5
In the library parking lot, the third mission team quickly secured the area, noticing signs, both good and bad.
Angela’s hand slid to the Python that for right now, had a place on her left side. She wasn’t picking anything up. Instead of the past fear and urge to hide, she advanced eagerly when Marc motioned everyone out.
Eyeing the boot shaped bruise on Marc’s forearm, Angela followed. He’d fared better than most of the others in the cage when it came to marks, but it bothered her to see him wince as he stepped from their vehicle. He’d accepted the Advil and refused the painkiller, and she knew he was extremely sore. That was the condition of half the mission teams, but it wasn’t a hindrance. The bruises and wounds were their badges of honor. She understood because she had her own.
The library stank.
It was bad enough to make Eagles gag as they moved through the dusty bookshelves, clearing each room and level. As they headed downstairs, the stench grew worse.
Marc held them just above the bottom floor, using his hands to keep from talking and having to use his nose to breathe. We go on three and brace. Smells like dead.
Except, Angela thought it was more like mildew and feces. Either way, it was unlikely there were survivors.
One… Two… Go!
The first team moved down the stairs at a run, with the second (Angela and the rookies) behind them. She ran down the stairs, lights glaring from all directions as she hit the carpeted bottom and found herself listening to the faint sound of something they were all familiar with. Barking dogs might mean they’d been wrong to assume there were no survivors down here.
Marc waved Angela’s team back as he went to the only door into the single room.
Following his training, they put her in the middle of their tight circle.
Marc flashed a signal, stomach rolling as breathing through his mouth no longer kept out that sickening odor. Ready?
Enough positive motions between gagging had him yanking the door open... Marc lifted his gun as shadows darted for their legs.
“Hold your fire!” Marc choked out as the rot hit him square in the nose and twisted him into a gagging, puking machine that only let up when he made it back outside and covered his head with his jacket. Bodies would have been easier on him. He’d been ready for that.
6
Angela handed out the medical salve from her bag, motioning for Jax, who was grimacing under that split lip, to follow Marc.
The basement was alive with growling, wiggling, barking shadows that the Eagles carefully waded through as they hung lanterns from the rafters. The sound of vomiting was almost as loud as the dogs, and Angela was grateful for her cast-iron stomach.
The library team had found a large basement full of dogs. Thanks to bags of food and an intentionally dug watering ditch they traced to a nearby creek, a surprising number of the animals were still alive. Angela hadn’t picked it up because they weren’t a threat.
Angela watched the Eagles play with a few of the calmer dogs they’d culled from the stench-ridden room. The animals were shivering and shaking with joy, pissing all over the place, and drawing loud chuckles from these hard men. Angela found herself absorbing the good moment. She’d been braced for another awful city, and it was wonderful to have this instead. Even the deaths of the weaker dogs wouldn’t dull it for her. She often forgot what it had been like to live in a calm world that delivered good things. Since the war, she always expected the worst, and Wichita would last in her heart for a while as a balm.
“They tried to save their pets,” she stated.
Quinn nodded, ears hurting and stomach twisting violently. He gently nudged his team leader’s woman toward the stairs, sure that viewing the small corpses wouldn’t help her sleep much more than human ones would have.
“Let’s get the rest of what we came for, gentlemen,” he instructed. “Marc says we’ll take the mutts with us.”
The others got to their feet, and Angela went upstairs to supervise there when Quinn motioned for her to. It had been a good trip them. She hoped the others were doing as well.
7
Bang! bang!
“I’m pinned!” Shawn shouted, ducking behind a wide tree with a trim of dead roses.
Neil fired at the truck trying to leave, hitting a windshield.
The glass fractured and he fired again.
The window shattered this time and the driver jerked at the impact.
The prison transport truck swerved to the left and ran into a burnt security car by the gate. The impact sent the truck flipping into the brick wall, throwing debris in all directions.
Smoke and steam rolled upward as Neil ran toward the traders who ran from the transport wagon. He didn’t bother demanding surrender. That world was gone.
No longer pinned down, Shawn joined Neil in the chase.
“There’s another one!” Greg warned, t
rying to get closer through the sporadic return-fire from the traders. They’d already disabled two jeeps with armed riders.
Neil and Shawn spun around to see a third jeep flying towards them, guns on the front glinting in the dim sun.
“Take cover!” Neil shouted as he and Shawn dove behind the brick divider next to the gate.
Wack! Wack! Wack! Wack!
A fourth jeep flew up the grassy hill behind them.
Trapped! The traders had been prepared.
Neil hit his emergency radio as he dumped his spent rounds. “We need backup! Automatic weapons, five mobile targets!”
Only the mission teams inside the city were close enough to hear through the limited radios.
“Half hour,” Zack responded first, grimacing at the fuel odor on his hands.
Marc’s team was deep into loading the dogs and books and responded with, “Fifteen.”
“On the way!” Seth’s voice was eager. “Where?”
Wack! Wack! Wack!
Greg fired from nearby, hoping to hit any of the four vehicles now bunched together as they came in for a sweep.
Kablammm!
Two trucks exploded with the grenade and the other vehicles split up, realizing their mistake.
Out of grenades, Neil ducked lower as debris rained over the battlefield. “Just follow the noise.”
8
Jeremy grabbed Samantha’s arm and shoved her toward the tanker. “Ride back with the water.”
Sam jerked away, drawn to the sound of the explosions. They weren’t far from Neil and that was where she wanted to be. “I’m going.”
Jeremy didn’t have time to argue. He shoved her toward his ride, growling, “You follow orders or I’ll tell Adrian!”