by John Grit
“All of you will be safer here, and I’ll be safer with you here.” The few feet between father and son disappeared for a few seconds while they looked at each other. “Every one of you is as tough as they come, even Samantha. You, Deni, and Caroline are all survivors. You’re still alive because of what you’re made of. But what I’m about to do is a one-man operation. It’s actually safer for me to be alone the way I’m going to fight them.”
“Well, just come back,” Brian said. “Do you know how long you’re going to be gone?”
“Probably three or four days. There’s no way to know. Might be longer.”
~~~
Nate woke in the night and tried without success to not disturb Deni. She didn’t say anything until he had grabbed his rifle and was about to leave. “Just come back,” she said.
Nate stopped and stood in the dark. “I will.” He inched his way along the ravine and into the forest.
~~~
The first thing Nate had to do was hunt down those who hunted him. Then he had to wait for the right time and place to kill one of them quietly. By the time he came across their trail, it was less than two hours before dark on the second day. He moved in for the kill. No thunderstorms had showed up in the afternoon, and the heat was oppressive. They must’ve been pushing themselves pretty hard, because they stopped in a thick stand of pine trees to rest a few minutes. One of the men walked away from the others a few yards to pull his pants down and squat behind a tree. It was a mistake that proved fatal. The others found him five minutes later with his throat cut.
Their efforts to track Nate down failed. When they spread out in a line to reacquire his trail, Nate shot one in the face at a range of just over 100 yards.
For some reason, Nate had found his second wind and felt like he had shed 10 or 15 years. It seemed easy to travel fast with his four-decade-old body. Knowing that they were behind him and had not the time to get ahead and set up an ambush meant he did not have to travel slow and carefully. He swung around to an area they had already been through, where he knew the brush grew so thick you couldn’t see more than 20 yards. There were times when he purposely left sign to make sure they would not lose his trail. But he did not want to make it obvious.
That night when it grew too dark for them to track him, he swung around and waited for a chance to kill another one. He estimated where they would be by dead reckoning and guessing when they gave up because it was too got too dark to see tracks. For whatever reason, he missed his mark and gave up after two hours inching his way through the dark woods. He decided that would be a good time to get some rest. They had no more idea where he was than he did them, and he needed the sleep. He had no idea what would come in a few hours.
~~~
Nate woke and realized his face was covered with mosquitoes. He rubbed them off, not slapping at them so as to not make any noise. He sat up. Looking around, he guessed it to be about one hour before false dawn. Only normal woods sounds came to his ears, and when a buck slinked by only 20 yards away, seemingly unalarmed and casually stopping to eat every few yards, he was assured no human being had been through the area recently. He took a quick drink and restarted the hunt.
Nate found them a little more than an hour after daylight. Almost immediately, he realized they were on his trail again. He took advantage of the fact that told him what direction they would be traveling and ran ahead to set up an ambush. Since he was alone, he planned to kill one of them and run. Staying long enough to kill any more than one would be a fatal mistake. He waited in the forest gloom, indifferent to time, as if it were something he breathed in and exhaled like the air, taken for granted and ignored. Nothing else mattered but his survival. His eyes and ears gathered in all data as he constantly scanned the area until he knew every tree, bush, and clump of grass, his eyes penetrating the wall of green as much as 40 yards at times, but in most areas that wall of green was too thick to allow him to see more than 20 yards.
He had been moving nothing but his eyes for 45 minutes, but even they froze when he saw something that had not been there before, and when that something materialized and he could see that it was the camo-painted face of a man, he slowly shouldered his rifle and pushed the safety off with his trigger finger. It was an easy shot, but he waited. He needed to have an idea where the others were before he let them know he was there. Someone’s boots scraped against a palmetto frond some yards behind the face Nate had just seen. When he located a third man farther back that told him what patrol formation the team was using and where the others probably were. A quick check to relocate the first man took several seconds, squeezing off a shot and running away at top speed took only one.
Bursts of automatic gunfire from several weapons spurred him on. Staying bent over, he cut to the left and ran 50 yards and then, no longer bent over, cut to the right, running 100 yards before changing direction again. He realized it was only luck that had allowed him to make it the first 20 yards. At least one of the killers had seen him running off and tried his best to shoot him in the back.
The day wore on, and Nate couldn’t seem to shake them off his trail. The fact he was no longer a young man soon became the deciding factor in the chase. Exhausted, Nate pushed himself, fully realizing his heart was no longer the heart of a twenty-year-old soldier. He vowed that he wouldn’t let them kill him and resisted the urge to stop running and shoot it out.
He liked to think it was his stubborn resolve to deny them the satisfaction of taking his life that spurred him on, but in his pounding heart, he knew it was Deni and Brian that gave him such a will to live. If he could shake them off his trail, he could rest and fight again the next day.
Chapter 24
Sometime in the afternoon, summer thunderstorms rolled in and changed everything. Nate changed course a few more times to throw them off, covering three or four miles, and then he pushed into the thickest brush he could find. There, he dropped to the ground and gasped for air, exhausted. The rain came down hard and heavy, feeling ice-cold on his skin. Steam misted up from his back and shoulders and his head. His eyes kept scanning the woods around him and carried the frightening qualities of a wild animal. But he was still alive.
Do I want to go through that again? he asked himself. I haven’t finished the job. I can’t leave any of them alive. He slipped his backpack off and lay on the wet ground, heavy rain pounding on his face. He opened his mouth and waited until it was half full before swallowing. Right now I have to rest. If I don’t, they’re going to kill me without firing a shot.
~~~
Capinos sat behind his desk and looked the three-star general over. “The Secretary of Defense and I have decided to promote you to Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.” He leaned back in his leather chair. “Uh, the Secretary wanted to be here but is indisposed at the moment.” In reality, Secretary Hackleman was dead, executed for refusing to follow orders. “Senate approval will just be a formality. You understand how busy we are in Washington with all this craziness going on. The last CJCS was Army too, and I know people like to rotate that position among the branches, but I believe it best to have a good Army man in charge.”
Lieutenant General Jack Silva’s wide shoulders extended beyond the back of the chair he sat in. He may have been a general, but he kept in shape. As a young soldier in combat, he had killed with his bare hands more than once, and had done so again in another war, when he was a lieutenant colonel and 40 years old. “And how am I qualified?” He waved his hand. “Forget that. What makes you think I’m interested?”
Capinos gave him a cold smile. “As for qualifications, we’re running short of generals. To answer your question why I think you’re interested in the position, well, you’re the youngest three-star general in the Army. You have moved up fast. That tells me you’re ambitious. Also, my people tell me you believe strongly in civilian command over the military and want no part of the mutiny that’s going on at the moment.”
General Silva shook his head. “I’m not that ambit
ious.”
Capinos flinched. “I understand. You’re a true warrior and don’t want to give up your combat command. Too much paper pushing for you in the JCS.”
Silva leaned forward. “Let’s cut the shit. I was hoping you had summoned me to discuss your resignation and handover of power to the people. Don’t you know which side I’m on?”
All color drained from Capinos. Talking through his teeth, he said, “Obviously, there has been a mistake. One that will be remedied as soon as you’re taken away and shot.”
“In that case, I have a right to defend myself,” Silva said. He jumped over the desk and punched Capinos twice, knocking him out, then lifted him from behind and put both arms around his neck and head. Applying pressure, he forced his head down and then twisted, producing a distinct snap. He let Capinos fall to the carpet, dead.
Standing straight, General Silva adjusted his uniform and took a few breaths. He looked down at Capinos. “Gutless little weasel. You think you can murder Americans and shit all over the Constitution so many have fought, killed, suffered and died for? With you dead, most of the shitstorm will be averted, and a lot less blood will be spilled.”
He stepped out of the Oval Office, where Vice President Piers Trant waited. “The presidency is yours for the next six months as agreed.” He made eye contact with Trant. “Keep the people’s welfare first in all things and you’ll get to be president for six months and then go home a free man. No charges. No trial. No prison.” He pulled a shoulder back slightly. “Neither I nor anyone else can promise what the new civilian government will do with you after that, but those are the chances you take. Hell, I might be charged with murdering Capinos. Whatever comes, I know I did the right thing and am willing to pay for it.”
The new president swallowed and nodded. “I gave my word. As far as I’m concerned I’ll just be a figurehead. Maybe I can calm the people’s worries of the military coup being permanent. They need assurances that there will be free elections soon. In the mean time, you in the military please keep doing what you were before Capinos got in your way. It was working. Over the last months, people were less hungry and suffered a lot less at the hands of the barbarians.” He started to turn away, but stopped. “As I explained to the others last night, I had no idea how far Capinos was willing to go. He caused so much suffering and death. Obviously, he was mentally ill.”
“Well,” General Silva said, “he’s not worth thinking about anymore. Let’s get to work serving the American people and rebuilding this country.” He walked out of the room and disappeared down a hall.
Trant held his hands up and watched them shake. After closing the Oval Office door behind him, he nervously paced back and forth in front of the president’s desk, thinking. He had to give General Silva time to get away before calling in the Secret Service.
~~~
Nate woke after two hours and began the hunt anew. He had traveled less than a mile when an unnatural noise prompted him to stop and freeze in his tracks. He thought he had heard someone cough. Getting down low behind cover, he waited, but heard nothing else. Moving on with caution, he came to the edge of a little clearing. The rain fell thin, the color of worn gun metal in the slanting afternoon sun. Men squatted there on their heels, beneath the drizzle.
Immediately, he realized they were not soldiers or part of Capinos’ private army. They were of mixed age from their late teens to middle-age. Many of them wore rags and carried shotguns and other civilian weapons. A quick scan with his binoculars told Nate he had seen some of the men in Glenwood, a few of them, he had met. He noticed a big black man on the edge of the crowd and recognized him. He was Tyrone.
Not wanting to get shot, Nate stayed back in the trees and worked his way to the side of the clearing where Tyrone was. When he was only 30 yards away, he squatted down behind a tree and yelled Tyrone’s name. Everyone in the group hit the ground and pointed their rifles in Nate’s direction. “Tyrone,” Nate yelled. “It’s Nate Williams.”
Tyrone told the others not to shoot.
Nate wasn’t about to go into the meadow where he would make an easy target. “Tyrone, you should know better than to have those men out there in the open like that. There’s a team of professionals out here and if they catch you in the open they’ll kill you all in about ten seconds. Come to my voice and be quick about it. Stay low.”
Tyrone had his men do as Nate said. Not bothering to greet Tyrone or waste any time, Nate led them deeper into the brush. He then showed them how to set up a defense perimeter. “Keep your eyes open. Men are hunting me, and if they find you out here they’ll kill you too.”
Nate felt things were finally under control well enough that he turned to Tyrone and shook his hand. “What the hell are you doing out here? Is this your militia?”
“More like my posse,” Tyrone answered. “As to what we’re doing out here, we got word from Mrs. MacKay by radio that your house and barn had been burned to the ground. We came out here to look for you in case you needed help.”
“I need help all right,” Nate said. “Who told MacKay about the raid on my farm?”
“One of her people saw the smoke, checked it out, and then delivered the message by foot. She radioed us in town.”
“Well that was a hell of a lot of trouble to go through for me and my family.” Nate looked around at the crowd. “I owe thanks to a lot of people. How long have you been out here?”
“Since yesterday morning. We traveled by boat. We’re not far from the river, you know.” He rubbed his sweaty face. “We’ve been chasing gunfire all day. All we found so far are tracks, spent casings, and a couple dead men.”
“There are more dead men than that out here in these woods. Anyway, I’m grateful you didn’t meet up with any of the live ones, because if you had it wouldn’t have been pretty.”
Tyrone smiled. “You don’t have much faith in our abilities, do you?”
Nate didn’t have time to worry about hurting egos. “Actually, I think you might just be the answer to my problems.” Nate kicked and scraped a three-foot area clear of pine needles so he would have bare soil to draw a diagram on. “Let’s tighten the perimeter up so everyone can hear what I’m saying. I’m going to be the bait and lead those bastards straight to you. It shouldn’t be too dangerous because they’ll not be expecting you out here. They think they’re after one man at the moment, so I should be able to trick them into running right into an ambush. That should give you enough of an edge to counter their training. But everyone must follow the plan exactly. Otherwise it could get real bad real quick.”
“I understand.” A dark thought came to Tyrone. “Where are the others?”
“They’re safe,” Nate answered. “If everything goes well, I may be back with them tonight.”
Tyrone looked up at the overcast sky. “Thank God. I was worried for a second.”
Nate flattened a mosquito on his nose. “Where’s Atticus?”
“He’s holding the fort in town.” Tyrone anticipated Nate’s next question. “Donovan and the Army seem to be worried about an attack from other soldiers, or the Air Force, or the Marines. Hell I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s going on in Washington, but it seems most of the military’s on the people’s side.”
Nate nodded. “Right now our immediate problem is surviving this day. I’m hoping that by working together we can do just that.”
~~~
The thunderstorms passed on and the sky cleared, but the sun had fallen to an hour’s height above the western horizon by then. Nate finally located those who hunted him only a quarter mile from the river, just where the downward slope to the river valley swamp started. Evidently they had no clue where he was. He intended to give them a deadly hint by putting a bullet in one of them. And then he would run like hell just as he had done before. Only this time he would be leading them into a trap. The fact they hadn’t called in another air strike recently told Nate they probably no longer had that option. He prayed he was right. The lives of a lot of p
eople depended on it.
Nate hid in woods so thick with undergrowth his vision was limited to less than twenty yards. He knew they were coming and expected them to be in view any minute. There! Nate saw movement. No form or shape, just movement swimming in the wall of green. Coming closer now. Nothing. Now a movement of shadow in shadow. Dim sunlight reflected off something moving, then disappeared. Twenty yards. Fifteen. A man stepped out of dark freckles of shadow and into a death zone of sunlight. Nate could make out twenty percent of his upper body. He fired and saw an image of the man’s head coming apart just before he turned and ran, keeping low as bullets ripped the jungle-like growth up all around him. He felt a tug on his left sleeve and felt a sharp, burning sting. He drove on with all the speed his legs were capable of, digging into the rain-softened soil and leaving a trail his pursuers couldn’t miss.
The sounds of pursuit only yards behind, he ran past Tyrone’s men and kept running until he came to the place he had previously chosen and dropped behind a hickory log. His danger-heightened senses allowed him to hear the hunters-turned-prey coming for what seemed like an eternity. Don’t anyone shoot too soon!
Nate almost smiled when he saw the first one come into view. It told him they were all in the kill zone and he could shoot the one in the lead, signaling Tyrone’s men to start the killing. Fear something could still go wrong ate at him as he aimed and fired.
A roar of gunfire that had its own distinct sound, different from the times when full auto fire encouraged Nate to run faster, told him the slaughter had begun. Shotguns and rifles of various calibers created a sound like popcorn on a fire, trailing off to individual pops as the kernels of popcorn were exhausted. If everything went as planned, it would be over in seconds.
It was.
Tyrone’s men began to come out of hiding and advance on the dead and dying. One thirty-something-year-old man in coveralls aimed his shotgun at a wounded man. Nate rushed to him, yelling, “Don’t kill him!”