Apocalypse Trails: Episode 5

by Joe Nobody

  What came next shocked Jack. Exploding into an angry rage, Norval’s vocal eruption caused even Jack to wince. “My actions! Change! You’re damn right I’m not the same man I used to be! Who could stay the same with the world falling apart? I’ve kept our people alive, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some second-class smuggler from south of the border tell me how to shepherd my flock!”

  “You didn’t think I was a second-class smuggler all those years we were making loads of money. You didn’t doubt my judgement as the illegals and narcotics flowed through your precious bit of Americana,” she pushed back.

  Jack waited, anticipating another explosion from the burly ranger. Instead, Norval’s voice became low and frosty.

  “Look, we have a unique opportunity here, a chance to build a new society from scratch. God’s wisdom has provided us with the circumstances to recreate civilization a second time, and I’m not going to waste it. For the hundredth time, I ask you … I beg you … give me your allegiance, and join me. You can sit at my side and help guide me through the troubled times that loom on the horizon.”

  Carmen grunted, “You still want me to be your queen? Is that it? You still have this vision of repopulating the earth in your image?”

  “We have all the tools. You heard Cisco; we have electrical power, unlimited water, and the most advanced community he’s encountered. Why not? Why can’t we start from these humble beginnings and spread life across the world … with our values … with our vision of what humankind should really be? We can correct all the mistakes of the past! You and I, together, can mold and shape our race into what it should have been from the beginning. We can instill our principles, our morals, and our ethics.”

  From his hidden perch, Jack stood stunned, Pickett’s words sending ice cold chills down the commander’s spine. The man was obviously deranged, suffering from some form of megalomania.

  “What are you going to do with Commander Cisco?” Carmen asked, trying to change the subject.

  “That depends. If he will pledge his loyalty and gun to me, then he can join our ranks. If not, then we’ll dispose of him just like the others.”

  “The others,” spat Carmen. “Those poor, innocent souls. No one deserves to die like that.”

  “I did not kill them,” defended Norval. “I left them in God’s hands.”

  “You hauled them out into the desert with only water,” she protested, the emotion rising in her voice. “You knew the ash would kill them. You knew they didn’t have a chance.”

  Angry again, Norval bellowed, “They had their chance! They had an option. What did you expect me to do? Allow those disloyal, faithless wretches to stay here and consume our precious supplies?”

  “A choice? Sure, you gave them a choice. They could have agreed to become your breeding stock. They could use their wombs to produce your soldiers and spread your insane vision of how the world should be. That wasn’t really much of a choice if you ask me.”

  “I offered them a future,” Ranger Pickett countered. “For a bunch of young, lawbreaking women who were sneaking into our country illegally anyway, was it really so much of a stretch for them to partner up with my rangers and began raising families? We are going to need soldiers for our cause, Carmen. Why can’t you understand that?”

  Then, like a switch had been flipped, Norval’s tone changed again. “Please, I ask again, join me. I need you, Carmen. I want you beside me.”

  He’s in love with her, Jack understood. That’s how she’s managed to survive so long.

  Ms. Legs was obviously way ahead of the commander in understanding her own mortality. As if she could hear Jack’s thoughts, her tone changed, and she became flirtatious. “We have accomplished great things together,” she said softly. “And I have to admit, you’ve kept us all alive. Give me some time, Norval. Please, give me a chance to digest everything that has happened.”

  Jack sensed the conversation was over, and when no more words were exchanged, he carefully backed out from his hide and retreated to the last intersection. Twenty minutes later, he was crawling into his cot, his mind reeling from everything he’d learned.

  Yet again, sleep eluded him.

  Over and again, Jack mentally replayed the overheard conversation, and its contents troubled him deeply.

  It wasn’t the ranger’s master plan … or even Carmen’s role that bothered Jack the most. It was the fact that Norval, given the assets of the cavern, might actually be able to pull off his crazy scheme.

  How hard would it be to recruit the likes of the Tucson cannibals and other desperados? How long could the good people at Mud Lake hold out against even a moderately sized army moving against them? When the food ran out at the Marine air station, would the men with families to feed join forces with the mentally imbalanced ranger?

  Visions of cloned “Pickett Armies” entered Jack’s mind, the brawny ranger leading his hordes as they spread across the land. If Norval was smart and cautious, he could conquer the entire Southwest bit by bit, growing stronger with each victory. Stranger military campaigns had been successful.

  And what about Carmen’s obvious connection to Mexico? Jack knew the mysterious woman had her own cadre of men inside the caves. Did she have access and connections that would bolster Norval’s ranks with additional manpower?

  There was another exasperating angle as well. Sighing with frustration, Jack realized that it wasn’t the threat of some marauding warlord that bothered him the most. No, it was the bursting of his salvation bubble that cut the deepest.

  There was little he could do to stop Norval’s march to regional control, and quite frankly, Jack didn’t care. What really bothered the commander was the lost opportunity to provide a safe place for his family – should he find them alive and well.

  “I was going to bring you back here,” he mumbled, again glancing toward the east. “I was going to save you and the girls by bringing you back to this paradise, Mylie. I had it all worked out. I am so sorry. I’ve failed you yet again.”

  For nearly an hour, Jack vacillated from one negative thought to the next. With exhaustion finally kicking in and no place to go but up, he returned to his cot and stretched out.

  Forcing himself to grasp the positive aspects of the situation, he focused on counting the “good sheep.”

  “You didn’t die of thirst in the desert,” he began, desperately seeking a silver lining. “You didn’t get killed at the spring. You found this place by accident – maybe there are more islands of surviving, good people out there. Maybe you just need to keep looking.”

  “One thing is for certain, Commander,” he whispered to the night. “You have to find a way out of this madhouse.”

  Chapter 29

  There was a sense of comfort in their comradery, Keith especially pleased with how quickly his team fell back into their old military roles as they sat discussing the potential of a mission.

  “We need to set a trap,” Ham had stated with confidence. “The only way we’re going to find the spy is to force them into showing themselves.”

  “He’s right,” Joe had added. “It would take a battalion to search these hills and still they might not find a well-hidden man.”

  Jimmy had come up with the best solution, Keith and the men agreeing on a simplistic approach.

  Two hours before dawn, Keith and his team had loaded up with their fighting rigs and without light or sound, had fanned out from The Simpson into the inky darkness.

  Their objective was to form a picket line between the hotel and the nearest entrance to Carlsbad Caverns, hoping to catch the enemy observer as he rushed back to report what he had seen.

  And Keith intended to provide quite the spectacle.

  At dawn, every able-bodied man at The Simpson was to make a grand show of gearing up for a major assault. Meyer even ordered some of the women to don rifles and packs. He wanted Norval to think that his foe was mounting an invasion. If that didn’t flush the observer from the hills, nothing would.

/>   It was a ruse, but one Keith hoped would sell. With any luck, he and his core team would catch a spy in their snare.

  The strapping man found the perfect hide, nestled into a small cut, worn away by thousands of years of erosion. From his perch, Keith could observe a wide section of open ground below. If his strategy flushed Ranger Pickett’s eyes and ears out of the hills, the informant would most likely have to cross here, and Meyer would be ready.

  An hour after sunrise, Keith thought their plan had failed. By now, The Simpson’s courtyard and parking lot was a beehive of activity, giving all appearances of an invasion being mounted. Yet, there had been no sign of any observer rushing back to report what he had seen.

  “Maybe they are using a radio?” he questioned, watching the still and silent rocks. “Do they have some other method of signaling?”

  Since The Simpson couldn’t sustain electrical power, radios that required charging weren’t a tool he and his men could use. Advantage to Norval and the rangers.

  Still, Keith didn’t think his foe was that sophisticated. The units he’d seen on the rangers’ belts before the collapse hadn’t been military grade and no doubt were capable of only a limited range.

  Just as he was considering rising to return in defeat, Keith spotted the slightest movement in the rocks. There were no more jack rabbits or javelin, and no one had seen a bird in weeks. The motion had to be human.

  Now focused with laser-like intensity, Keith soon identified the outline of a man. A moment later, the spy bolted across the open area, his olive-green ranger uniform announcing that their plan had worked.

  The observer made it four steps before a single shot split the morning air. Keith watched the ranger stumble, try to stand, and then fall back into a puff of ash. Ham’s aim was as good as ever.

  The ex-paratroopers streamed out of their hiding places, weapons up and ready to engage if the prone ranger was playing possum. By the time they had him surrounded, the pewter ash under the fallen man’s chest was running with streaks of crimson.

  Keith stood for a moment, watching as Jimmy kicked the ranger’s rifle away. Then, his gaze switched to the injured man’s torso, seeming to study the wound as his chest rose in fell in heaving breaths.

  “You’re gut-shot,” Keith stated coldly, peering into the ranger’s wide eyes. “There’s nothing I can do for you, even if I wanted.”

  “We should put him out of his misery,” Joe stated, nodding toward the downed man’s mid-section. “That’s got to hurt like a bitch.”

  Finally, the ranger spoke, managing to groan a single word. “Water.”

  Keith knew that the human body went into overdrive after lead invaded it. The ranger’s systems would be trying to replace blood loss, fight infection, and repair damaged tissue at the same time.

  All of those activities required water, and more than one veteran soldier had commented that they had “never been so thirsty,” as when they had been wounded.

  Taking a knee next to the dying man, Keith produced his canteen. “We both know you’re not going to make it. I’ll be glad to give you a drink, but I want information in return.”

  “Please,” came the weak response as the ranger tried to reach for Keith’s water.

  When Keith didn’t produce the canteen, the dying man became belligerent. “Asshole.”

  Keith laughed at the rebuke. “Me the asshole? Now ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black? You are the bastards who are keeping innocent men and women out of the caves. You are the ones willing to let dozens of people, including children die in this ash wasteland. And you know what troubles me the most? I still have no fucking clue why!”

  “Norval is protecting his own ass,” pushed back the ranger. “He has been running Mexican girls and smuggling dope through the park for years.”

  Despite being shocked by his enemy’s admission, Keith managed a friendly smile. Happy that the dying ranger had come to his senses and was starting to talk, Myers held out the canteen and pressed it to the fellow’s lips, providing a few sips of cool relief. The act wasn’t based on any sense of compassion, but to allow the interrogator a chance to digest what he’d just been told.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Keith finally retorted, pulling back the canteen. “Why would Ranger Pickett give a flying flip about his past sins? There’s no law anymore. Given the current state of things, who the hell would give a rat’s ass about his previous moonlighting infractions?”

  “He’s turned into some sort of control freak,” the ranger managed between coughs and grimaces. “It’s like he’s morphed into a dictator or something. Weeks after the catastrophe the stress started to get to him, and I think he just cracked. Anyone who disagrees with him is given a one-way ticket to the Mojave. He’s never going to let you in. You would challenge his absolute authority, and that’s just not going to happen.”

  “So why are all you guys following his crazy ass? Why hasn’t someone busted some lead into his insane skull and ended this nightmare?”

  The injured man took another sip from the canteen before responding. “How would we organize a mutiny without risking our own lives? How would we know who was still loyal to Pickett and who realized our leader had lost more than a few marbles? That, and no one has had the balls to challenge Norval’s rule.”

  Again, the container tilted, this time Keith allowing the fading ranger several deep swallows. “Now that is the first thing I’ve heard since Yellowstone puked that makes a bit of sense,” he mumbled.

  The gut shot ranger lasted another five minutes, Keith managing a barrage of tactical questions. “Where is the weakest part of Pickett’s defenses? How many men does he have? How much ammunition?”

  By the time the ranger had drawn his final breath, Keith’s canteen was empty. It had been a small price to pay for the information he’d gathered.

  Rising to address his men, Keith announced, “For the first time since we fell into this cluster fuck, I feel like we finally have the upper hand. Let’s head back to the hotel – I’ve got some thinking to do.”

  “Are we going in, boss?” asked Ham.

  “Yes. We’re going to take those bastards down, and then I’m going to enjoy washing Norval’s blood off my hands.”

  Jack was shown back to his bicycle, the two-wheeled contraption bringing a much-needed smile to the commander’s lips.

  While he’d cursed and struggled at having to push the damn thing through the ash and wind, in reality, he fully understood that his ride was as important to his survival as his rifle or pack.

  Stepping over and rubbing the frame, Cisco was reminded of a happy reunion that had occurred years before.

  He had been on an extended deployment, his Ohio-class “Boomer” submarine ordered to remain at sea for an extra month. Not the kind of news that tended to endear a Naval officer to his spouse. As anticipated, Mylie’s attitude was a bit frosty upon his return.

  His daughters, none the wiser, had rushed to his open arms with squeals of delight and joy. The commander remembered the sweet scent of youth and clean hair as he’d squeezed them in a tight embrace and marveling at how much they had changed since his last trip home. After exchanging a less-than-passionate kiss with his wife, Jack had then made for the backyard to find Kilroy.

  The black lab had always been the family’s problem child. A rescue dog, caring for the lanky animal had put a serious dent in the family’s discretionary budget. There had been heartworm, ticks, and of course, the shelter’s demand that Kilroy be neutered.

  Still, the friendly pooch had quickly become part of the family. Mylie, despite her vigorous dissension about acquiring a pet, had eventually fallen in love with the retriever’s dreamy, sable eyes.

  As usual, Kilroy welcomed Jack home with an unconditional loyalty and gushing love that can only come from a mutt. A few minutes later, Callie and Sierra had joined their father and pet, rollicking on the green grass and cackling with sheer bliss.

  After a bit, Jack glanced up to se
e Mylie standing at the edge of the yard, intent to fight the smile that was spreading across her face. “Come on, Mrs. Cisco, you’re missing out on a great tickle fight,” Jack had called out.

  On that day, Kilroy had helped bring Jack and his wife together. Now, deep inside the bowels of a dark cavern, Jack looked at his bike and prayed it would one day play a similar role.

  “You’re a lot like Kilroy,” Jack whispered to the rubber and metal machine. “You’re a pain in the ass and a lot of trouble, but you’re loyal, and I need you in so many ways. Maybe one day you will help mend a marital fence or two.”

  Jack filed the memory and got down to the business at hand. His first task was to inventory his pack. For the next 20 minutes, he unzipped compartments, spreading the contents on the cool, cave floor. Everything was there, except for his ammunition. Norval had stated early on that he couldn’t allow an armed stranger roaming around the cavern, and Cisco couldn’t find fault with the ranger’s logic.

  The scrape of a boot against stone distracted Jack from re-stuffing his pack. The commander glanced up to see Carmen observing him from the edge of the room.

  “Planning on going somewhere?” she asked.

  Jack rubbed the wound on his upper arm while responding, “Well, you are responsible for that, ma’am,” the commander responded. “You did an excellent job patching me up. There’s no sign of infection, and I don’t need my arms to pedal.”

  She stepped toward him, her eyes soft and friendly. When she was closer, she said, “You realize Norval isn’t going to let you just stroll out of here, don’t you?”

  Ignoring the question, Jack asked one of his own. “How did you get hooked up with a guy like that?”

  Carmen’s eyes dropped to the cave floor, partly out of embarrassment, mostly to avoid his gaze while she decided how much to tell. “I was a nurse in Mexico City for several years. I witnessed the corruption and graft destroy my country and felt helpless to do anything about it. I did my job, caring for the sick and providing kindness to those at the end of their days. Over time, I grew tired of seeing the wealthy receive the best medical care available, while the poor died in droves because they were unable to afford even the most basic treatments and medications. After a while, I decided to take action. It all started innocent enough; I would pocket an occasional bottle of narcotics or high-end antibiotics, sell them on the black market, and then use the proceeds to help those who needed a hand.”