Avalon: Beyond the Retreat (The Avalon Series Book 2)

by L. Michael Rusin

  He had a small hand-held compass that had radium-covered dials and principal points, giving it an eerie glow in the darkness. They were heading toward the northeast. It would take most of the night to catch up to the large group and they had to be careful they didn’t accidentally overtake any stragglers.

  This had occurred a few times already but they were fortunate to catch themselves before it resulted in a shootout. They needed to save the meager supplies that they had, and ammunition was too precious to waste.

  Randy’s family traveled for hours, stopping now and then to rest until it was apparent they all needed to get some sleep. While he didn’t believe any of the large group would come back their way, he always made sure they set their sleeping camp well off the traveled trail.

  They set up a sleeping area by gathering leaves to lie on, which acted as an insulating barrier between their bodies and the cold ground. Then they spread their meager blankets and spare clothing over the leaves to form make-shift mattresses.

  Randy remained awake while his family slept, he would catch cat naps later. His main focus was to make sure his family was safe. He was grateful it wasn’t raining or worse, snowing.

  He remembered back to last winter, when they were on the western side of Mount Shasta. It was cold then too. Okay, cold didn’t do it just; it was flat out freezing. They had gathered firewood, dug a pit and built a fire that had burned for a few hours. Next, they gathered rocks about the size of cantaloupes and placed them in the fire-pit.

  Over the course of a few hours, they covered the hole with enough dirt to smother the fire, but only after the rocks were hot enough to stay warm all night long. Building a small lean-to over the covered pit, the four of them slept comfortably. It had snowed that night, but they were snug and warm.

  Tonight the stars were overhead and it was dry. There was no need for a lean-to with no risk of rain or snow. In an effort to stay awake, Randy concentrated on his plan. They would follow the bikers/Slavers in the morning, which would be difficult, at best, attempting to keep up with their vehicles while traveling on foot.

  If they could ever find themselves in a place where there was plenty of food and adequate shelter, he would take the time to make safety provisions such as building booby-traps for perimeter protection. However, since the war, they had not found any place safe enough that could also support them long-term. They had been lucky enough to find an occasional area that had food to keep them going for a couple of weeks.

  Inevitably, they simply did what the Native American tribes of old had done. They lived off the land as long as they could and then moved on. Lately they were following this large gang and were surviving off the scraps they left behind. Randy knew his wife wasn’t too crazy about doing this, but they were eating on a fairly regular basis. It took a lot of energy and a lot of luck to find food in the wild these days.

  He wanted to get close enough to take a couple of the Slavers out in order to acquire some much-needed items from them; another weapon or two and a lot more ammunition. He was down to thirteen bullets for his .30-06 Mauser and Shirley only had twelve rounds for her Auger 9mm pistol. One thing for sure… they weren’t going to win any serious gun fights. Avoidance was their best option.

  Each of the kids carried a hunting knife, and Randy was teaching them some hand-to-hand fighting techniques. Heaven help them if they ever needed to try and put those lessons to the test, and the thought of it unsettled him. He focused on teaching them basic techniques that would enable them to get away by any means possible. When life was on the line, he insisted, there was no such thing as ‘fighting dirty.’

  What he really wanted was a few canteens, and more blankets along with more firearms. Perhaps tomorrow they would get lucky.

  Morning came and Randy felt very tired. He woke Shirley up whispering, “Honey, it’s time.” She rose without saying anything and immediately started to prepare something to eat from the leftover scraps from the previous night.

  Randy lay down next to the kids and tried to rest, but couldn’t. The best he could do was nod off a bit. He remained in a twilight stage without actually sleeping, listening to the soft movements Shirley made as she prepared their breakfast.

  When the food was ready, Shirley woke the kids and they ate. Randy got up and the family gathered up their meager belongings and headed down the trail. He would try to sleep the next time they stopped to rest; it was going to be a long and hungry day.

  As they followed the large, prominent trail left by the bikers/Slavers they found a .357 Magnum Revolver lying on the ground, and it was loaded. Someone must have dropped it when they hit the pothole in the road nearby. Perhaps their luck would hold today.

  Several hours later, they reached the outskirts of the slaver’s encampment. They hadn’t posted any guards or patrols yet… not that they bothered half the time. He decided it was the small things he needed to be thankful for.

  Randy crawled forward on his belly until he could get a good look with his binoculars. He didn’t notice the mounds in the field below him and to the right… or the fact that they moved occasionally and ever so slightly.

  Chapter 2

  Down & Dirty

  Two weeks prior to the bombs…

  ERIC BELL RETURNED to his unit at Twenty-Nine Palms, California, after his mother’s funeral to find he had orders to an Army Mountain Climbing School at Camp David Briscol near Mount Rainier in the state of Washington. The Camp was named after a World War II recipient of the Medal of Honor. As a Marine Corps Sniper, Eric was often sent to a number of different training camps.

  He had attended and graduated from SERE (Survival, Escape, Resistance and Evasion), Jungle Training, Desert Environment, Cold-Weather Operations and a few other specialty schools over the last two years. This time it would be Mountain Climbing.

  Eric enjoyed the different schools and the unique challenges each one posed. What he especially liked was the opportunity to meet and interact with other specialists. Each had unique twists to the techniques they had been taught and Eric was like a sponge, learning as many as he could and implementing those he deemed best practices.

  The Marine Corps arranged his transportation, and after a couple of days to recoup from his Mother’s passing, he packed his duffel bag and headed to the airstrip. The flight to Fort Lewis Army Base, just south of Seattle, Washington, included an overnight layover. Eric rode with a military convoy to the training school near Mount Rainier the following morning.

  Eric’s partner, Sergeant Tim McNamara, was from Scottish stock. Though his red hair and freckles often had people peg him for a hot head, in reality he was composed and level-headed. His forte in high school had been math and football.

  Eric wasn’t quite sure how the two meshed, but Tim was very good at both. He was five feet nine and weighed in at one hundred eighty pounds. Eric and he had been a team for two years and they went to many of these special schools together. Tim was shy, especially around women, but they seemed to be attracted to him, regardless. He always found it difficult to find the right words to say around them. Although he dated now and then, it was always a forced encounter. He just didn’t know what to say or how to act around them. Women confused him, and yet he really liked them .

  Tim was Eric’s spotter and constant companion. They did things together not only because they were deeply embedded in their sniper/spotter relationship, but because their friendship had grown out of mutual trust and respect from training together and mastering some very difficult skills.

  “You think this school’s gonna be tough?”

  Eric laughed, sensing the worry in his friend’s voice. Eric clapped Tim on the back as he said, “I think it’ll be a piece of cake for both of us. Wanna know why? Because you and I listen when an instructor explains things, and we are in good shape for any kind of hard climb. I think we’ll fly through this without any problems.”

  Before any of them knew it, the Humvee took a turn down a long mountain road that terminated at a guarde
d gate manned by U.S. Army Military Police. After presenting their IDs, they were allowed to proceed to an office area where they presented their orders. This took about half an hour, and then a Corporal was directed to show Eric and Tim to their quarters which ended up being right around the corner.

  The billeting was a Quonset hut… barracks-style on the interior with a wooden floor. There were sixteen cots in a straight line on each side of the hut, identical in layout. At the end of each cot was a steel foot locker for personal belongings. There was a diesel-burning stove at one end of the Quonset with a chimney that went up through the roof.

  Eric looked at the sparse setting and smiled a toothy grin, “Home sweet home for us. I sure will be glad to get this one out of the way.” Looking out the window, his tone shifted slightly, “but I don’t really like heights and that mountain is one high rock.”

  The Camp was set on the side of a towering semi-dormant volcano covered with snow and ice year-round. It dominated the area, peaking at 14,411 feet. Tim gazed at the snow capped mountain, out the window, thinking “It must get pretty cold here.”

  After Eric stowed his gear he and Tim headed over to the non-commissioned officers (NCO) club. The club was cozy, not elaborate but adequate. Of course they wouldn’t spend much time here considering the course load, but it would do for tonight’s entertainment.

  As a Sniper, Eric was a highly trained specialist. He was on one of the teams that adjusted the control over enemy combatants in his area to lessen attacks on his troops and he was also the ‘eyes and ears’ of his Commanding Officer. He and his spotter were part of a team, consisting of eight other pairs.

  “How about a beer?” Eric asked Tim, as he looked around the room.

  “Would love a few, man.” Tim’s reply made him laugh.

  The Camp was remote and a bit isolated from nearly everything. He guessed the recreational facility would be a decent place to break the monotony of the Camp. It was his experience from other training facilities that the more remote the base, the better the facilities. He wasn’t disappointed.

  There was a large flat screen television viewing area for movies and a couple of other big screens to watch sporting events. One area offered a few pool tables and another section sported an ample bar. Tucked into another corner was a video arcade full of games. There was a small grill area offering hamburgers and cokes.

  It wasn’t bad considering the remoteness, and after Eric and Tim visited with some interesting people for a bit, it was time to turn in.

  Tomorrow would be a long day.

  The first week of training was grueling and physically demanding. All of the participants were young Soldiers and in excellent physical condition. They climbed sheer vertical cliffs several hundred feet in height, terminating on small ledges, only to continue up several hundred more feet and terminate on another ledge. Tim wasn’t too wild about heights.

  “Man, I don’t like climbing up the side of this mountain.”

  It made Eric smile as he bumped shoulders with Tim. “Just think, the trip back down will be quick and effortless if you fall.”

  Tim gave him a one finger salute as he righted himself. “Thanks for that astute observation!”

  The team learned how to tie a number of climbing knots and how to use pitons and other climbing equipment. As tough as it was, they both found it extremely interesting. The first ten days went without a hitch in terms of climbing, reaching the objectives, and rappelling down from the peak. This training readied them for the rest of the course.

  In weeks two and three, there were two incidents. One Soldier fell and broke his arm, and another washed out through his inability to adapt and follow orders. This was a ‘washout’ course. If, for any reason a Soldier couldn’t make the cut, they were simply returned to Camp. They would be issued new orders and sent to a new duty station. It was what was referred to as ‘Down and Dirty.’

  These Down and Dirty Training programs were reserved for the elite. Among this class were Green Berets, Rangers, Force Recon Marines, and Navy SEALs. They were normally selected by a Senior Enlisted Adviser and approved by a Company Commander. Few were selected to attend, and most completed the program to the specified standards.

  Eric loved the Sniper phase of the course. It was innovative, interesting, and moved along smoothly. Some of the requirements of snipers and their spotters were fairly routine. Eric and Tim had done much of it many times before. There were, however, some new innovations that they found not only interesting, but stimulating as well.

  “Wind steady, push right point two, target stationary, temperature is five degrees Centigrade, distance 155 meters.”

  “Roger, I have the target.”

  An explosion from the M-40A3 shattered the cool mountain air and the target lurched slightly to the left.

  “Right on, a few millimeters high and left of center. A definite kill shot.”

  “Roger that. Scratch one bad guy. Let’s climb to the next target.”

  The two men prepared to climb another fifty meters to the objective on their card of targets. The climbing techniques that made up the training exercise were interesting enough, but they were simply a means of getting Snipers and Spotters where they needed to be. Once there, they had to take into consideration the distance, wind, bullet drop data, temperature, and humidity before they executed a shot. If a Sniper missed that first shot, there may never be an opportunity for a second one

  During the exercises Eric normally hit his target, but on the rare occasions, when he did miss, it made him more determined to be better. The chances were pretty good that as each year passed, he would be considered among the top two or three in the world… perhaps, even, number one.

  On the last day of training, before Eric and Tim were to be graded and shipped back to Twenty-Nine Palms, everyone was relaxed and enjoying themselves without having to worry about tomorrow or yet another training session. They were done. They could afford to relax, have a few beers, and enjoy each others company.

  The hot topic of conversation was the news of the two terrorist attacks in Atlanta and Washington, DC. The country was once again in shock and struggling to make sense of the mindless killings. Though most stayed to continue their training, it was understandable that some would request to leave. One of the Army Rangers’ family lived in Northern Virginia and he had asked to drop the course to go take care of them. No one questioned his decision and he headed east.

  On the evening of the attacks, everyone had been given ‘admin time’ to call and check on their families. The only family Eric had left was his brother Chris, who was out to sea on patrol. There would be no contacting him, so he listened to the news. He could still hear the radio interruption in his head… “You evil Americans have felt the wrath of Allah, the magnificent, and it is not done. We will kill all of you infidels…”

  The thought of it really pissed him off, especially since he was becoming frustrated being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere and not being able to help. It left him nothing to do but wait around and drink another beer. As usual, there was small talk about the way the instructors handled some students. The majority were just glad the course was behind them, and all were fairly confident they had passed and were ready to take on the task of getting some payback. Eric was confident he and Tim had passed. They were a good team and had made only few and easily corrected mistakes.

  He was talking with a small group of guys when the Company Clerk burst into the NCO Club with a piece of paper in his hand. The young Soldier hurried to the front of the club, shouting, “Listen up! As most of you know, two nuclear devices were detonated on the east coast a couple of weeks ago. As of a few minutes ago the United States of America officially declared war on China and Russia.

  The soldier looked around to assess the impact of his words. He then continued, “both countries have nuked both the west and east coasts of the United States and they have begun invading from Canada and Mexico.”

  People started to murmur to ea
ch other as he continued. “All leave and special liberty requests are canceled. We are at war, people, and the death toll is climbing quickly. Further word about this situation will be relayed to you as the Commanding Officer of the post receives it. No letters, no telephone calls, no radio messages will come into or be sent out from this post, by order of the Commanding Officer, Major Gregory Fields, U.S. Army. That is all.” He left the club quickly.

  Eric was stunned, as was everyone else in the club. Some of them held their heads low, some took a seat in disbelief. Eric wondered about his brother. He knew orders would come down for them to launch their missiles, and when they did, they would be vulnerable to an attack from an enemy submarine.

  Many of the Soldiers began shouting questions at the First Sergeant who was sitting at the bar. He held up his hand for silence. “Right now, I don’t know anything more than you do. I promise I will let you know, once I’m told any pertinent information.” He paused, knowing they expected something more from him. He sighed softly in resignation. “Look, we all have families and loved ones beyond the gates, and I know exactly how you feel about this news right now. I’ve got family too, about an hour north of here on Highway 410, in Greenwater, Washington. The Army will be getting everything ready in order to protect the civilian population here and throughout the rest of the country. It is our job to protect the United States of America from attacks.”

  His voice got a bit stronger as his words started to take hold. “This attack was premeditated and carried out without any warning whatsoever. I can assure you that those of us who are career military will get our revenge quickly. As I said before, I don’t know any more than you do right now but I promise you this… I’ll keep you informed of the latest news as soon as I get it.”