The Systemic Series - Box Set

by K. W. Callahan

  Ava was the choker Jake used to harness even his maddest of dogs…and he had to admit, he had more than a few on some mighty short leashes. Jake’s own leash might have been shortest of all, but somehow Ava always managed to sooth the savage beast inside him.

  ***

  It had taken Will and Steve several minutes to make their way from camp down to the entry road and follow it to the open clearing at the road’s end. They had skirted the road itself, using it as a guide but staying under the cover of the forest’s edge. They’d left Will’s father, Frank, back near the bridge on the entry road as a lookout and in hopes of catching John and Brian as they returned from their scouting expedition.

  The damp leaves and continued rainfall helped to conceal the sound of their footsteps as they crept close to the clearing. Steve was right behind Will, shotgun in hand, a bulging pocket full of extra shells. They stopped at the foliage just at the clearing’s edge. Will held up a hand to ensure Steve stopped behind him.

  Will slowly scanned the area with a pair of binoculars. Through them he saw a group of vehicles comprised of SUVs and pickup trucks parked in the center of the open field. A group of about a dozen people milled about the area while a smaller cluster of four formed up in the center. They seemed to be discussing something.

  The sound of a zipper being zipped just behind and to the right of them caused Will to drop the binoculars as both he and Steve spun to see a haggard looking, long-haired man in a black leather jacket staring down and tugging at the crotch of his pants as he emerged from behind a nearby tree.

  He looked up at them in surprise, then down at their weapons.

  Almost instinctually, he pulled one side of his leather jacket aside to reveal a handgun tucked into his belt. His free hand went to the piece, pulling it out and raising it at Will and Steve. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Steve let loose with both barrels of his shotgun sending the man – or what was left of him after the shotgun blast tore through his chest and abdomen – back hard against the tree behind him where his lifeless body landed slumped at its base.

  The echo of the blast reverberated through the forest and out across the field.

  Will and Steve stood in stunned silence, smoke still oozing from the barrels of Steve’s shotgun. Steve’s mouth was open, his eyes wide in shock.

  Will grabbed Steve by the arm. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!”

  They could hear shouts coming from the vehicles behind them, and seconds later the sound of engines starting.

  Will and Steve broke back toward the camp road, but by the time they reached it, the roar of engines was close behind them. They were being trapped on the wrong side of the access road. As they skirted the road’s edge, slipping in the wet leaves and getting smacked by tree branches, they saw the shiny slick metal of an SUV’s front fender skidding on the muddy road, blocking their way back to camp.

  Will stopped short, and Steve bumped into the back of him, nearly knocking him over.

  “Come on…back this way,” Will said, turning to lead them deeper into the woods behind them. He heard Steve breathing hard and knew the old guy wouldn’t be able to keep up much longer.

  Now they could hear shouts in the woods off to their right, and Will assumed that some of the group of newcomers had probably found their fallen comrade. With Steve falling behind, it wouldn’t be long before these people caught up with them. They needed to find a defensive spot to hide or at least hold out until help arrived.

  Will paused, scanning the area around him and giving Steve a chance to catch his breath. Now there were yells coming from the road behind them too. They were being boxed in, and Will knew they would never be able to stay ahead of their pursuers.

  Steve was gasping for breath while Will conducted a survey of the area. “Reload,” Will told him, knowing it’d give them both a few more crucial seconds.

  As Steve rummaged in his pocket for shells, Will found their spot, a small sinkhole – a sort of divot in the earth – about five feet deep by maybe ten feet in circumference. A huge rotted tree trunk lay askew across one side of the hole.

  “All set,” Steve huffed, done reloading his shotgun.

  The rain had started falling steadily.

  “Let’s take cover in that sinkhole,” Will said. Leading the way, he pulled a fallen tree limb over in front of the rotted tree trunk that lay across the hole for additional cover.

  They quickly slipped and slid their way down into the sinkhole, each taking up a position that angled toward the sounds of their approaching pursuers.

  “Let me do the shooting,” said Will. “You don’t have the range or the ammo…not that I have much.” He set the three extra clips he’d brought along down on a small rock ledge beside him. “Just have your ammo out and ready. I need you to take care of anybody who gets in close and provide cover when I ask for it.” He looked over at Steve. “Got it?”

  Steve just nodded. He was covered in sweat and rain, mouth open, still gasping for breath and looking pale in the day’s gray light.

  Will checked his rifle. He let the clip slip from his weapon, inspected it, and then jammed it back into place. “We’ll make it through this. Just sit tight and listen for my instructions; things are about to get loud.” He tried to sound confident, but he felt as though the attempt was more for him than Steve.

  He looked over at Steve who remained silent. He was gripping his shotgun, which was shaking violently in his hands.

  Poor guy, Will thought. Probably in shock from letting that guy have it with both barrels.

  He reached over and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

  Steve turned to look at him.

  Their eyes met. Will just nodded; then they both looked back to where they expected the trespassers to arrive.

  Will lifted his rifle and aimed, his eye watching through the rifle’s scope, waiting for the first sign of movement. It wasn’t long before he got it.

  Through the trees, about 50 yards from their position, Will could see a small tree dip down as someone pushed it aside, and a second later he saw a person move slowly from a tangle of brambles beside it.

  He sensed Steve tense next to him. “Just wait…stay calm,” Will breathed.

  The figure crept forward. Will could see it was a man. He wore a blue bandana – not good camouflage in the forest – a rifle held waist-high in front of him.

  A droplet of rain dribbled down over the lens of Will’s scope, obscuring his view.

  “Shit!” he hissed, pulling his rifle back and making a quick dab at the scope lens with the driest part of his shirt sleeve that he could expose from under his parka.

  He moved his rifle back into position, but his efforts had only smeared the water across the lens. Worse yet, he couldn’t re-locate the man he’d just been watching.

  It started to rain even harder, and more water droplets hit his scope as they bounced and splattered off the barrel of his rifle. He pulled his head back from it and scanned the area. With the rain pounding around them it was hard to hear the shouts and noises that had previously guided them in pinpointing movement and progress before. Will hoped that maybe the group had given up the search, driven back by the rain.

  He looked back and forth, slowly scanning the forest around them. It was really pouring now. Water trickled off the hood of his parka in rivulets when he bent forward. Some ran down into his face; some splashed from the tree trunk they were using as cover and got into his eyes.

  His line of sight was now maybe 50 feet at best. He waited, watching, straining to listen. His heart was pounding violently.

  There were no further signs of their pursuers, but Will didn’t want to move just yet.

  Steve wiggled nervously next to him.

  Will glanced quickly over at him and from the corner of his eye saw a flash of color in the distance followed immediately by an explosion of sound and wood shrapnel as bullets tore into the tree trunk behind which they crouched.

  In the cover of the rain, they�
��d been flanked and were now exposed on their right.

  Will instinctually raised his rifle and returned fire, ripping off five shots in quick succession followed by three more rounds a few seconds apart.

  Gunfire from what sounded like several different locations erupted and bullets thumped into the tree trunk and ripped through the air and leaves around them.

  Will pushed Steve down deeper into the sinkhole beside him and almost sprawled across him as he lay prone to take up a better position to cover their vulnerable flank.

  “Watch our front,” Will yelled, as Steve squirmed around him. “If anybody gets close, blast ‘em.”

  Will squeezed off two more rounds, and then decided it was best to try to conserve ammo and wait for their attackers to try something in closer proximity. He was afraid that by waiting, it wouldn’t be long before they were completely encircled, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

  He saw two figures dart between trees about 50 feet from them, but he couldn’t get a fix on them quickly enough. Rounds were starting to continuously thud into their little fox hole, and from the number of shots being fired, it sounded like more people were now taking up positions around their perimeter.

  Suddenly there was gunfire from behind their position.

  Whoever these people were, they’d managed to get around behind them, and there was no way Will and Steve would able to defend in all directions at once.

  It was only a matter of time now.

  ***

  Little Paul had finally tired of bombing sister’s dolly and had relentlessly badgered his mother into letting him don a parka and go outside the tent to wander a bit. Sharron felt bad for him. An eight-year-old could only be cooped up in a four-person tent for so long.

  He was outside fiddling with the smoldering embers of the camp’s fire when Brian came bursting onto the scene, panting, sweaty, and out of breath.

  As most eight-year-olds would with someone ten years their elder, Paul looked up to Brian almost as a personal deity. Brian was still a kid, but yet a man. He still held many of those childlike interests and mannerisms, and he could connect with Paul in ways the adults couldn’t, yet Brian was allowed to do all the things Paul wasn’t.

  Brain saw Paul and immediately motioned him over, putting a finger to his lips for Paul to remain quiet. Paul was quick to obey, hurrying over silently.

  It was starting to rain harder now. Everyone else at the camp was still hunkering inside their tents.

  Paul was as close as Brian could come to someone to privately confide in.

  “Dude…” Brian whispered excitedly, “…other people are here!”

  “Really?” Paul responded, wide-eyed and not really understanding why Brian was whispering.

  “Yeah. You know what that means?”

  Paul nodded; then realized he didn’t. It didn’t slow Brian.

  “There might be girls!”

  Paul grinned and nodded, still not seeing what the big deal was.

  “Want to go check it out?” Brian asked.

  “Sure,” Paul agreed, willing to follow his brave uncle just about anywhere.

  Turning, Paul said, “Just let me tell my Mom where I’m…”

  But Brian stopped him. “No!” he hissed. “You can’t tell her. Then everybody will want to come and they’ll ruin everything. That’s why I ditched John back at the road. They think everybody’s out to get them so they’ll act all shitty toward new people. If we’re cool, then maybe these people will be cool, and we can hang out. But if we go down there with all these adults, they’ll just start fighting and ruin everything.”

  Paul nodded in silent agreement.

  “Come on,” Brian said, starting off in the direction of the camp road.

  “Wait!” Paul said. “You have a gun.”

  “Yeah…so?”

  “If I get there without a gun, they’ll just think I’m a little kid. They’ll laugh at me.”

  Brian nodded, understanding the little guy’s concern.

  “Here,” he said, pulling a handgun from his waistband. “Take this. Then nobody will give you any shit.”

  “Wow,” Paul breathed, taking the firearm gingerly in his hand.

  “Safety’s on,” Brian said. “Now let’s go.”

  ***

  Suddenly, Will saw one of the attackers to his right dart out from behind a tree and then pause exposed, as though confused. The attacker raised his weapon and fired several shots in the opposite direction of Will and Steve. Will took the opportunity to raise his own rifle and squeeze off a short burst of four rounds. He saw the attacker shudder briefly and then hit the ground. Will wondered who the guy was shooting at.

  Will watched as another attacker near the same location left his cover, firing behind him, and then retreated back and away from his covered position. Will fired several shots at him as he disappeared behind a clump of foliage. Then he could hear more shouts from behind him and suddenly sensed movement. He swiveled in his position, pulling Steve over with him. Bullets were still zipping in around them, but now the fire coming from behind seemed to be suppressed.

  Then he heard a familiar voice shouting, “Will? Will!?”

  It was Frank.

  “Over here!” he called to his father.

  A second later, Will could make out two more people approaching with his father, shooting as they dodged their way through the trees.

  “Give them covering fire,” he called to Steve, turning and firing off several rounds from their tree trunk-bunkered bastion.

  Steve raised his shotgun and fired once, paused a second, then fired again as Will let loose, finishing off his first magazine, then quickly reloading. Steve ducked back down to reload too and a few seconds later they were joined by Frank, Brian, and Will’s young son, Paul, who all jumped down into the sinkhole with them.

  “Why the fuck did you bring them?!” Will cried, incredulous at the stupidity of his father.

  “Didn’t,” Frank said, ripping off a few shots. “Found them already out here.”

  “Goddamn it!” Will yelled angrily. But there wasn’t time to argue about it now. Paul looked terrified and had sunk belly down into the lowest part of the sinkhole.

  Brian stood up and fired a few shots before Will pulled him back down.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Will screamed. “Don’t EVER stand up like that!”

  Brian just grinned, pulled away from him, and fired off a few more rounds.

  “I took one of these guys out on the way in,” Frank yelled over the noise.

  “Steve and I got two,” Will called back.

  “How many are out there?” Frank called.

  “12…maybe 15…I’m not sure,” Will said, taking another few shots as a figure darted between the trees about 40 feet in front of them.

  Paul was checking his firearm while laying in his prone position, but Will quickly put a stop to it. “You stay put!” he spat, gritting his teeth in anger and frustration. “And you,” he turned to Brian. “I’ll deal with you later!”

  “You guys bring any extra ammo?” Steve yelled after a blast from his shotgun ripped into a tree behind which one of their attackers was hiding.

  “No,” Brian called back, firing a couple more rounds. “Didn’t realize it was going to be a firefight. I’ve only got this one magazine.”

  “Here,” Will said, grabbing the handgun from Paul and handing it to Steve, “use this…sparingly.”

  “We need to get out of here or we’re done for,” Frank yelled, squeezing off a round.

  Will ejected another empty clip from his rifle and replaced it. “And soon!” he called back.

  ***

  Jake and Ava had followed their minions in the forest from afar. They liked to come to the fight late, choosing to bring their firepower to bear only when necessary. They’d discovered that allowing their opponents to take out a few of their men before they arrived was a good way to reduce their group’s numbers and keep fresh blood from ever becoming too
old. Old blood meant familiarity, and familiarity bred contempt, and both were things Jake didn’t need in his crew. Keep them fresh, stupid, violent, and dead quick, and things worked out just fine. As Jake recognized, casualties in his crew weren’t just a common occurrence but an integral component to the hierarchy of his organization. But he was still trying to find the right balance between necessary casualties and bleeding his crew completely dry. He had to keep enough muscle on hand to draft – whether through coercion or force – more hired guns when he needed them.

  Both he and Ava viewed their small organization as a work in progress. And Jake saw something in Ava. She had a way about her; a certain ability to plan and prepare that he had been able to harness and utilize to help him develop some of his small jobs back in Chicago. It was as almost as though she knew what would happen before it happened. She could work through a plan from beginning to end, seeing all the possible sticking points before they ever occurred. Ava wasn’t just a beauty; she had a brain somewhere underneath those looks of hers. This efficient and effective aspect of his lover and partner both intrigued and frightened Jake.

  They’d already lost a few long-termers today, and by the sounds of things, they’d be losing a couple more in this, the second fight of the day. Numbers were starting to dwindle, and Jake had to admit, pickings were getting a little slim, especially down here in bumfuck Illinois. He needed to get back to a city to bolster his ranks.

  So it was time for him and Ava to step in and end this thing.

  Jake looked over at his prized possession where she sat beside him in the passenger seat of their SUV. His eyes moved down over her form-fitted long-sleeved shirt that accentuated her supple breasts and finely toned abdomen, then he continued down to the skin-tight jeans that tried to straighten every curve but failed miserably. His eyes absorbed her essence, which left him soaked in sexual tension. She looked so hot as she sat there unfazed by the violence erupting around them. She worked with a nail file on her purple-painted right pinky finger. This was all just a part of life to her now. She was getting used to it.