Infected Chaos

by Loren Edwards

  Poncho nodded. “I agree.”

  “We’ll tag along, if you don’t mind,” Cliff offered.

  “Not at all.”

  Cliff swallowed. There was an attraction; he felt it. He shook the thought from his mind. He was with Jennifer again: a woman he had loved for fifteen years. Maybe, if things were different? He rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble that grew overnight. “Have you seen Jennifer this morning, Jake?”

  “No. Can’t say I have.”

  “Cassandra? You sure she went outside to fetch water?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  Cliff finished his coffee and took note of the time. Jennifer had yet returned from the creek. He stood and walked to his apartment without saying a word. He grabbed his pistol belt and knife. He returned to to see Jake and Poncho engaged in conversation and laughing. Their smiling faces turned sour when he approached with his gun belt.

  “I’m going out to see if she’s okay,” Cliff stated.

  “I’ll come with you,” Poncho said jumping to her feet.

  “Me, too,” Jake offered.

  Poncho stood and grabbed her coat that was resting on the chair next to her. Cliff saw she was already armed.

  He led them outside. The morning fog was still thick in the air. Cliff ignored the cold. They walked pass the vehicles and behind the warehouse to the creek, scanning the area for threats.

  “God, I hope she’s ok,” Cliff said.

  “We haven’t had an infected penetrate the perimeter yet,” Poncho said.

  They approached the creek and found her water pail. Cliff felt his chest drop to his stomach. His deepest fear came to life. “Where is she?”

  “Look!” Jake blurted. “Her slipper!”

  Across the creek, Cliff saw Jennifer’s pink slipper at the water’s edge.

  “She crossed it?”

  Cliff shook his head, “No, because the ice isn’t broken all the way across. She couldn’t have jumped that far.”

  Jake knelt at the spot where Jennifer had broken the ice. He looked up the embankment and spotted a half of a boot print in the mud.

  “A boot print,” Jake pointed. “Someone else was here.”

  “Who?” Poncho asked.

  Jake walked up the embankment, studying the ground. He saw a small part of a muddy print on the asphalt, then a second and third one. A piece of duct tape lying on the asphalt next to the third print.

  “It’s the toe of a boot,” Poncho stated. “Part of a cowboy boot to be exact.”

  “Oh God,” Cliff cried. “Someone took her?” He looked at Poncho, then at Jake, wanting them to have the answer; they shook their heads.

  “Maybe it’s those guys who tried to kill us back at the farmhouse?” Cliff offered.

  Jake shrugged his shoulders.

  “We need to go find her,” Cliff said, his voice cracked.

  “We’ll find her, Cliff,” Jake affirmed, grabbing Cliff’s arm.

  They ran back to the side door. Cliff slid to a stop in front of their parked vehicles. He looked at the row and noticed Galvin’s van was missing.

  “Where’s Galvin?” Cliff asked.

  “Galvin!” Cliff yelled when he entered the warehouse. “Galvin! Where are you?”

  He ran toward Galvin’s makeshift living quarter; they built it four rows from everyone else’s after Jennifer and Cassandra demanded it. He rounded the aisle and sprinted into Galvin’s area.

  “What is it, buddy?” Galvin asked, still half asleep.

  “Your van is missing, and so is Jennifer,” Cliff replied in a firm tone.

  Galvin sat upright. “Do what? How is that possible? The keys are right over there on the table. How can Jennifer be gone? Did someone take her?”

  Cliff looked at the table. He spotted the keys. Galvin was right.

  “You and Jennifer had a fight a few days ago,” Cliff said. “You didn’t have anything to do with her missing, do you?”

  “What? Um, no. I’ve been asleep. You say she’s missing?” Galvin asked rubbing his head.

  “Yeah, she’s missing, and so is your van,” Cliff answered. “Get dressed. We need to go look for her.”

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  Jennifer slid across the floor of the van with each turn.

  “Here she goes again,” Montgomery laughed.

  “Bet she’ll hit the other side with this turn,” Bruce joked.

  How sadistic can these guys be?

  “Knock it off, Montgomery!” David commanded from the driver’s seat.

  The van turned right. Jennifer could hear the tires crunch gravel. They must have turned onto a drive way? The van bumped along the road, causing her to land hard on her shoulder. The two men in the back with her laughed.

  The van slowed to a stop. The two men in the back slid the van’s door open and stepped out. They spun her around so her feet faced the door. The man named Montgomery grabbed her and pulled her out of the van. She felt the wind rush out of her lungs when she hit the ground.

  “Stop it!” the driver commanded.

  Jennifer darted her eyes over to see a burly man step from the front of the van. He had his right arm resting in a sling. His face looked like he was recovering from an accident. He bore a noticeable, linear bruise below his right eye. Behind him was an old, white, two-story home, its paint peeling from the siding. The home was surrounded by an open pasture with a few patches of trees. I didn’t do anything, she wanted to scream.

  The two abductors picked her up from the ground and carried her inside the house. The musky smell in the old house hit her nostrils hard. It reminded her of Cliff’s barn: aging, moldy wood. She was taken down a hallway to a room and forcefully sat into a wooden chair. Rage and hatred boiled in her soul. Her breathing increased, her pupils narrowed as she felt the urge to harm her abductors.

  The burly man she took as the leader entered the room. She gave him a death stare. She didn’t know him, but wanted him dead.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” the man asked in a calm voice.

  Jennifer shook her head.

  “Take the duct tape off her mouth,” he instructed.

  Jennifer yelped and stretched her mouth after Montgomery ripped the strip away.

  “Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “Who are you?”

  “My name is David, and you’re responsible for doing this to me,” he answered holding up his gauzed wrapped arm.

  “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

  “On the contrary. It was you and your group that did this to me and left me for dead on the road.”

  “That was you?” Jennifer asked staring at her abductor. “You were the ones who were shooting at our house…trying to kill us?”

  “You have this all wrong,” he stated shaking his head. “It was your group that attacked us at the pharmacy in Whittaker. You are a threat to my family. It was you who took precious medicine from my kids. It was you who kept us awake at night, worried about being attacked,” he argued, leaning to within an inch of her nose.

  “It was you who attacked us! We aren’t a threat to anyone!”

  “We had to do what we felt had to be done,” he replied. “It is only a matter of time before you run out of supplies and then decide to take up guns against my family. We were just defending our right to life.”

  “You’re nuts,” Jennifer spat.

  “Tie her legs to the chair and her hands behind the chair,” David instructed.

  “Let me go! I didn’t do anything!” she pleaded.

  “In due time. In due time,” David repeated in a calm voice. “It’s up to your group if I’m going to release you. It’s your leader that I want. I’ll trade you for him. I’m sure he’ll do the right thing,” he grinned then closed the door behind him.

  Montgomery put a new strip of duct tape across Jennifer’s mouth and left the room without saying a word. She heard the men converse, but with the door closed, their voices were muffled. She wiggled in her chair, testing her restraints. />
  Cliff’s knuckles were white from gripping his rifle as he sat in the passenger seat of the Humvee. He was grateful Poncho volunteered to drive. His knee was bouncing, his foot tapping the floor as he scanned the countryside. He started to think of his life without Jennifer. He pictured being late to her rescue, only to find her body. How would I tell Jonathan and Cassidy? Who is responsible for abducting her? Why her? Did they target her because of me?

  “What’s this about some guys attacking you at a farmhouse?” Poncho asked breaking the silence.

  Cliff remained mute.

  “We were staying at his farmhouse before we ran into you. These guys turned loose some infected on the house, and when we tried to escape, they shot at us,” Jake answered. “We first ran into them in town when we went for the pharmacy. They ambushed us.”

  “You have no idea who they are?” Poncho asked.

  “No.”

  “Sounds like a band of pirates,” Poncho suggested. “We ran into a few in Texas. They’re sick people who will kill you just to take your stuff. It’s the basic human instinct, killing just to stay alive. They don’t care about anyone but themselves. They’ll kill women and children if it means they can eat for a week.”

  “That sounds like them,” Jake returned. “Why would they follow us here? Do you think they’ve been watching us?”

  “I don’t know, Jake. It scares me to believe they’ve been watching us. They must be, since it looks like they kidnapped Jennifer. They’re some bad dudes,” Cliff finally spoke.

  “Do you know how many there are?” Patrick asked from the back seat.

  “I only saw four or five. There might be more. I don’t know.”

  Poncho turned the wheel of the Humvee at the intersection that lead to the gas station where she met Cliff. She had no idea where to drive. They were shooting in the dark; once the van drove off the distribution center’s drive, it was anyone’s guess where the abductors headed. Still, she knew they had to try. There was no use sitting around doing nothing. Cliff had to know. He had to try to look for her. She was more than ready to help him with anything he needed. If it was her in Jennifer’s position, she hoped they would stop at nothing to rescue her.

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  Poncho gnawed on her lip when she read the fuel gauge; they had to return to the warehouse, or find diesel fuel soon. The fuel level in the Humvee was getting dangerous low. They drove all day, looking for signs of Jennifer. Cliff remained quiet for most of the trip, concentrating on the passing landscape.

  The warehouse was a mile away when Cliff looked at her. He looked at the fuel gauge and realized her reasoning. He didn’t say anything.

  As they crested a hill on the way back to the warehouse, Poncho pointed “What’s that? Is that the van?”

  Cliff sat up; he tightened his grip on his rifle. “Didn’t we go through here earlier today?”

  “Yes. We must have missed them, or they’re watching us,” she offered.

  “Our home is less than a mile from here. They have to be watching us!”

  Poncho slowed the Humvee. Cliff jumped out before she brought the vehicle to a complete stop. “Wait, Cliff! It might not be safe!”

  She exited the Humvee with her rifle at the ready. She approached the van when Cliff opened the sliding door.

  “Where is she?” Cliff yelled looking at the empty van.

  Poncho opened the passenger door There was a piece of paper in the drink holder.

  “What is it?” Cliff asked over her shoulder.

  “It says, ‘Want to see your woman again? Meet us at Elk Creek bridge on the 1250 road. Seven in the morning tomorrow.’”

  Cliff exchanged looks with Poncho, then snatched the note from her hand.

  “What the hell?” he blurted, staring at the note.

  “It doesn’t say what they want.”

  “They might be holding her at some empty house or barn near this bridge! It might be good to go check the area out.”

  Poncho was tired; she had been driving for seven hours. She swallowed and fought against her desire for rest. “We need fuel and guns.”

  “Let’s head back to the warehouse to grab my truck and a few weapons. I have a feeling this is about to get bloody.”

  David kicked Bruce, who was lying on an old sofa. “Wake up! It’s your turn to watch her.”

  Bruce wiped the sleep from his eyes, “What time is it?”

  “Ten at night. You wake Montgomery at three. We head out at six-thirty,” David stated.

  “Got any more cigarettes?” Bruce yawned.

  “That’s a nasty habit. There’s a pack on the kitchen counter. You need to quit, because they’re not making any more,” David laughed.

  “I know. You’re right. It’s a nasty habit.”

  “Smoke ‘em sparingly,” David said.

  “What if they don’t show up?” Bruce asked, walking to the kitchen. The floors creaked with each step he made.

  “They will. Trust me,” David answered.

  “What’s the plan?”

  David fell into the old sofa and cupped his hands to his face. He was feeling tired and didn’t want to entertain Bruce or his absurd questions.

  “They will. If they want her back alive, they will.”

  “I mean, do you think they’ll fight or just roll over to your demands?”

  David grew frustrated. “Dammit, Bruce! They’ll comply with our demands. We’ll have our man and seek our revenge. He did this to me,” David held up his sling. “He’ll pay for what he did or this lady will pay for him.”

  David’s words cut the air. Bruce swallowed then stepped outside and smoke a cigarette.

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  Poncho entered the warehouse to see Jethro looking over weapons he and Brian found on their scavenger hunt. “What did you find?”

  Jethro pointed at the table. “Almost everything you could ever need.”

  “Impressive,” she smiled patting Jethro on the shoulder. “How much ammo did you get?”

  “Eight thousand rounds of 223 with three thousand belted for the M240 machine gun. A thousand rounds of 308, two-night vision goggles, ten kay-pot helmets, four smoke grenades, a fragment grenade and …“

  “Anything cool?” Poncho interrupted.

  “Yes,” he grinned.

  “What is it?”

  “Got a AT-4 rocket launcher,” he grinned.

  Poncho smiled, “Anything else?”

  “Brian?” Jethro called. “Wanna show her the fun stuff?”

  Brian, standing by another table, turned and smiled while holding his hand out. “How about three Claymore mines?” He smiled.

  “Holy crap! Really?”

  Cliff returned from his living quarters after changing clothes. He was less excited than Poncho, but he was still impressed. His mind was fixated on getting Jennifer home safely. He patted Jethro on the back and thanked him.

  “Load the M24 rifle, night vision goggles, and the frag grenade into the truck,” he smiled.

  “Poncho, do you know how to use the M24?” Cliff turned and asked.

  “Used it just once at the range when the Rangers were using it. They let me shoot a few rounds.”

  “Did you hit anything?”

  Poncho cocked her head, “Really? I didn’t qualify less than expert with the M4.”

  “Well, this isn’t the M4.”

  “If the scope is zeroed, I can’t miss,” she returned glaring at him.

  He gazed in her beautiful eyes and felt relaxed. He smiled. “Get loaded up then.”

  “What about us, Cliff?” Doug asked. “Do you need us?”

  “No. The less folks there, the safer. If they know we’re not home, they might show up here. I just need Poncho, Jethro, and Jake. The rest of you stay here.”

  “We’re here,” Poncho stated when they approached the Elm Creek bridge.

  “What are we looking for?” Jake asked from the back seat.

  “Lights. See if anyone is in one of t
hese homes around here, a car, something,” Cliff answered. “I bet they’re holed up somewhere close.”

  “Damn, it’s two in the morning,” Jake complained. “Do you think they’ll have lights on at this hour?”

  “Yes, I do,” Cliff replied. He turned his attention to Poncho, who was behind the steering wheel, “Lights off; let’s go dark.”

  Poncho and Cliff grabbed the goggles from Cliff’s bag and slid the night vision goggles over their eyes. Their view turned green as the black world outside the truck came to life. Memories of Baghdad and Mosul flashed before Cliff. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He told himself he wasn’t in Iraq. His mind raced back to Jennifer.

  The road was empty. There were five homes lining the road: two on the left and three on the right. Poncho drove the truck at a snail’s pace, trying to keep the engine roar to a minimum—the sound from the engine was no different than radioing the enemy that they were coming. Cliff took note of Poncho’s decision and was impressed with her decisiveness. He felt the attraction again and pushed it away. He bet she was an outstanding soldier.

  “I can’t see crap,” Jake blurted after two minutes of silence.

  Cliff smiled and shook his head. “That’s the point, Jake.”

  “I’m glad you can see. Tell me when you see something.”

  They drove pass the second home. Cliff let out a sigh, “Nothing.”

  “She has to be held somewhere on this road,” Poncho said.

  The third driveway grew nearer. This house sat further back from the road than the first two. Cliff felt his stomach knot. There was something about this house, he told himself. He studied the driveway looking for tire tracks.

  “Slow down some; I want to see,” he instructed.

  Poncho brought the truck to a complete stop.

  Cliff saw the home come into view. It was an older, two-story home with wood siding. He stared through the night vision goggles, taking in the home and its surroundings. The home sat back from the road by almost an eighth of a mile; it was the perfect place if you were trying to hide, Cliff thought. Old wood planks were nailed over the second story windows and two of the first-floor windows.