Apocalypse Trails: Episode 5

by Joe Nobody

  The air was thick with cordite and rock chips, as a blizzard of lead flew back and forth. This is going to be tough, Keith thought, estimating the number of defending rifles and the width of the opening he and his men would have to pass.

  Jimmy was 20 feet away, on the opposite side of the secondary opening. The two leaders made eye contact, exchanging an unspoken message. “This is going to suck,” they both said, followed by Jimmy’s sly grin and mouthing the words, “Did you expect to live forever?”

  With that, Keith watched him rise and loose several shots with his AR15 as he dashed into the open. Without hesitation, the eight men behind him did the same, charging into the dragon’s mouth without pause.

  “Up and at them!” Meyer screamed, rising to follow Jimmy into what could only be described as hell’s very gate.

  A hailstorm of lead zipped past Keith, impacting the stone walls with a chorus of thunks and whacks.

  Over and again, flame blazed from his shotgun’s barrel as his finger and hands worked in unison to produce a maelstrom of lead pellets. The other men were firing now, aiming at the vague shadows and muzzle flashes of the defenders.

  Keith spotted Jimmy go down, a round striking his friend’s left leg and spinning his body in a pirouette.

  Changing course with a sharp dart, the strapping man rushed to his friend, scooping toward the ground and grasping a handful of Jimmy’s shirt.

  Despite the weight of his wounded pal, Keith lost little momentum as he dragged Jimmy to the edge of the opening. There wasn’t much cover there, their new position offering only a slightly better angle to avoid the incoming fire.

  “How bad?” Keith yelled to his friend over the thunderous echo of gunshots reverberating off the stone walls.

  “I’ll live, but I am gonna have to bow out of next week’s 5K marathon,” he responded.

  Taking the opportunity to reload his scattergun, Keith shoved brightly colored shells into the tub as he assessed the battle. While the rangers were putting up a serious defense, the return fire aimed at his men was withering. Only Jimmy and one other man had been wounded. He would have expected three times that number by now. “This is too easy,” he whispered.

  An old proverb popped into Meyers’s thoughts, an insight he’d first heard from the instructors at Fort Benning’s celebrated airborne school. “If it’s going too well, you’re probably walking into an ambush,” one of the savvy, old black hats had stated. “No gunfight ever goes as planned. No firefight ever goes well.”

  Before he could analyze the situation further, movement drew the brawny adversary’s attention. Three of the women were sneaking up behind him, running bent at the waist to avoid the deadly lead.

  They were after Jimmy, surrounding the wounded warrior and then pulling him back to safety despite the rounds impacting all around them. Keith’s chest swelled with pride at their bravery and dedication. They deserved to live. They had earned it. We have to finish this for them.

  Motivated by his people, he rose with a ferocious battle cry, working the pump as fast as his forearm could slide the mechanism, pouring clouds of 30-caliber pellets into the retreating rangers. Keith charged into the mayhem, blistering patterns of death into the defenders.

  Before he realized his weapon was empty, Keith had reached the back of the big room. His men were right behind him.

  They had taken one side of the room, he realized, fingers working in a blur as he reloaded. Shouting to his second, “In another few minutes, we will hold this vast chamber. Don’t give them a chance to regroup. Don’t let them breathe. When Jimmy’s team cleans up the far side, we will spread out and take this complex once and for all.”

  A group of nodding heads acknowledged his orders, his team wide-eyed and scared, but more than willing to continue the fight. Another swell of pride rose in Keith’s chest. The men beside him weren’t professional soldiers or gung-ho warriors. They were auto mechanics, farmers, shopkeepers, and salesmen. Yet, they were fighting as well as any man walking the earth.

  We’re winning, he thought. The end was in sight, and for Keith, it couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter 31

  The body armor bolstered Jack’s confidence, as did the load vest, sidearm, and six full magazines he quickly shoved into pouches.

  There was something about preparing for combat, some sense of comfort garnered from strapping on tools and weapons that a man knew he could trust. The M4 carbine felt comforting in his hands as he slammed home a full box of pills and then pulled the sling tight against his chest.

  His decision to stop Norval needed little moral support.

  He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t act on what he’d overheard. He needed to stop this madman and his strategy to annihilate his enemies.

  A moment later, after one last check of his kit, Jack moved off in the same direction as Norval and his men. It wasn’t a difficult trail to follow – he only headed for the increasing sounds of battle.

  While he remained steadfast in the choice he’d made, Jack hesitated as he crossed an intersection that led to one of the non-contested entrances to the cavern. He only paused for a second, peering longingly at freedom’s path and trying to push aside the fact that he could be on his bicycle and out of the area in a matter of minutes.

  In that moment, another thought occurred to him. While Carmen had suggested it originally, Jack had been unable to even consider her concept at the time. He could kill Pickett and take over.

  That reasoning shortened Jack’s stride, his mind working through the ramifications of the situation and his surroundings. It was evident that most of the rangers, as well as the people outside, knew Norval was as crazy as a jaybird. Wouldn’t they welcome sane leadership?

  All in all, Norval wasn’t completely off his rocker. Mankind would have to rebuild. Someone was going to have to step up and be a leader. Why not Commander Jack Cisco?

  “What makes you think you’re the right man for the job, Jack?” he questioned as he moved toward the ensuing firefight. “Who died and left you in charge?”

  Yet, the commander was confident in his moral compass. He knew right from wrong. He understood human freedom and dignity. He would be a far better leader than any criminalized park employee.

  Jack could approach Mud Lake, the Marines, and the people of the Cliff House with an open mind and a friendly embrace. He had proven himself to those communities. They would welcome the chance to join his efforts in rebuilding.

  Not only could he steer humanity along the right path, but he could also increase his chances of making it to Texas alive. Surely, he could find a dozen healthy and physically capable recruits to make the trip with him. Wouldn’t it be better to cross the wilderness in strength?

  “Hi, Mylie. I brought along the cavalry. Hope you don’t mind,” he whispered with a grin.

  All the elements were there. Archie had seeds, Pinemont had eggs, and Hewitt had cattle. They could all join him in the caves and wait for the earth to heal.

  He fantasized about emerging into the sunlight, Shelly and Hewitt at his side as trusted lieutenants. He pictured expanding circles of influence, expeditions to the major cities, and the life he could provide for his daughters.

  They would put down the wicked and ruthless people encountered along the way while offering the decent folks protection and opportunity.

  “But who will be the judge, Commander Cisco?” Jack asked himself, pulling up short. “Who makes the decision on good versus evil? Were all of the cannibals actually malevolent degenerates, or just desperate, starving souls that took a turn down the wrong path?”

  What about the lumberjacks? Jack wondered how he would view them if he had encountered them before the people in Pinemont. Would they still fall on the wrong side of his moral fence, or were they merely hungry men driven by desperation? Hadn’t both sides of that conflict tried to kill him?

  “And that’s the problem,” he finally concluded. “I’m not qualified to be anyone’s judge
or jury. Neither is Norval Pickett, or anyone else. I might end up just like him – a power hungry lunatic who is no longer playing with a full deck. We have to come up with a better way.”

  It was all too much for the moment, the sound of the skirmish pulling Jack back from his delusions of grandeur. Still, he felt a sense of relief in overcoming the temptation and allure of grabbing power and seizing control. The rock under his feet felt like the high road as he began jogging again.

  As he advanced, the report of gunfire became louder, rolling and bouncing off the stone facade with little to absorb its energy. Jack couldn’t imagine how thunderous it must be in the middle of the actual fight.

  Movement up ahead caused him to slow. There was a slight widening of the walls on each side of the path, an oblong, egg-shaped room. Jack could see people there … green uniforms … huddled over some sort of device.

  The commander knew he’d found his target when the group of men stood. There was Norval, his head rising several inches above the other fellow. The head ranger held wires in his hands. The detonator!

  For the first time since he’d overheard Pickett’s sinister plot, Jack hesitated. He now knew that other rangers were merely following orders. Carmen had suggested many of them wanted to bolt with her, but couldn’t figure out a way to escape his clutches. If the commander fired at Norval now, he would surely kill some of the others around him.

  Deciding the gamble of moving in for a higher percentage shot was worth it, Jack hugged the rock wall and advanced. He was within 70 yards when a voice from behind him shouted, “Look out!”

  Bullets slammed into the stone next to Jack’s head, sending stinging bits of rock into the commander’s neck. Jack pivoted, snap-firing three rounds at the ranger who had somehow managed to sneak up behind him.

  Fortune was with the Cisco, his third round catching the ambusher low on his right side and taking him down.

  Warned of the threat’s presence, Norval and his group opened up, leveling a steady stream of hot lead in Jack’s direction. Diving for cover, the commander realized he was in big trouble. Outgunned, he could only keep his head down while a storm of bullets forced him against the rock floor.

  “I need to be a gopher with steel teeth right about now,” Jack cringed.

  Instinctively, Cisco knew that he needed to move in order to live. A quick glance told him that Norval and his rangers were already one step ahead of him, skirting along the wall and trying to outflank his position.

  Keeping against the ground, Jack belly-crawled backward, the rough stone surface cutting into his stomach and chest. He reached a smooth area that had been bowled out by water over the millennium. The geological nuance was deep enough to protect his body below the ground’s surface, and so provided reasonable cover.

  Up came his carbine, a surge of relief racing through the commander’s body. It felt good to be throwing death back at his foe. Again and again, the M4 pushed against his shoulder. Now it was Norval’s exposed rangers who were scrambling for their lives.

  For over a minute, the two sides seemed at an impasse, the stalemate doing little more than expending ammunition as both sides fired round after round but accomplished little other than keeping their foes pinned down.

  As Jack fed his third mag into his rifle, it dawned on the commander that he was almost halfway through his ammunition. “God, it goes fast,” he hissed, sending a spread of six rounds pinging off the walls above Norval’s crew. “Something has got to change, or we’re going to be throwing rocks at each other in a few minutes.”

  Norval evidently came to the same conclusion at about the same moment.

  Jack heard shouting from the other side, his ringing ears unable to decipher the words. The intent, however, soon became clear as two of the rangers stood and charged.

  The commander had no choice, exposing himself as his weapon spit at the two assaulters. The lead ranger slumped to the ground in a heap, his already dead body bouncing at an unnatural angle across the cave floor. The second fellow dove for cover, barely avoiding Jack’s follow-on volley.

  Just as he was wondering what possible motive Norval’s men might have for exposing themselves in such a stupid, suicidal move, a line of bullets slammed into Jack’s position from the left. “Fuck!” he yelled, rolling out of his cover. While he’d been busy with the first two, the others had moved!

  The incoming fire pushed him back, Jack unable to sneak even a wildly aimed shot. Ranger Pickett’s men had him now, advancing behind a deadly barrage of fire.

  The commander’s retreat was halted a few moments later, his boots backing into an unmovable wall of solid rock. The rounds were coming closer now, snapping and popping into the stone floor just inches from Jack’s face.

  There was no place to go, no room to egress, no ridge or outcropping to hide behind. Jack felt a chip of rock shrapnel smack into his forehead, the numbing impact causing him to jerk with pain. “It’s over,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Mylie. I tried. I really did. I love you. I love the girls.”

  With eyes ratcheted shut, Jack waited for the searing bolt of agony that would end it all. In that instant, his mind screamed with a million questions, regrets, and memories. Would it hurt? Would Mylie ever know what he had tried to do? Who would stop the Pickett now?

  Jack was so focused, waiting for that last and final bullet, that he didn’t notice the change in the battle’s rhythm.

  Chancing a quick peek through squinting eyes, Jack saw and heard a new presence in the cave. There were new weapons firing, new shouts and cries in the air.

  Now willing to chance raising his head for a better look, Jack spotted the park rangers firing in the opposite direction, their attention no longer focused on ventilating the Navy commander’s hide.

  The survivors from the hotel have made it! They have broken through! Jack thought.

  Cisco pulled his rifle close, thinking to join the fight. He would show Norval Pickett that he didn’t have the right to choose who lived and died in this world.

  But it was Ms. Legs’s words that rose above the din. “Are you okay, Jack?” the melodic voice called out, followed by several commands in Spanish.

  The commander noticed two men who were not wearing uniforms appear from a hidden nook, their weapons spraying at Norval’s retreating crew. Carmen’s head poked around the corner, her eyes immediately seeking the commander.

  Reinvigorated by his new lease on life, Jack was up, slamming home a fresh mag and determined to get back into the fight.

  He crawled forward, pulling his weapon along the floor, seeking an angle. It didn’t take long.

  For the next five minutes, the battle ebbed and flowed. Carmen’s men had surprised Norval’s crew, but could little more than even the odds.

  Norval’s men had had the advantage of cover, falling back into an area that featured several man-sized columns of rocks that made digging them out next to impossible.

  Again, Pickett’s voice boomed through the cavern, issuing commands and trying to rally his men. This time, Jack was ready.

  Like before, two of the pinned down rangers rose, firing wildly at Carmen’s men. Jack ignored them, focusing the red dot of his optic where the rest of Norval’s crew were positioned.

  Sure enough, three of them scampered from the rocks. Jack’s finger began working the trigger.

  One fell immediately, two of Jack’s shots tearing into the man’s chest.

  The other two continued with their maneuver, now hustling for a spot where they would have the angle on Carmen’s helpers.

  Jack hit the second man, stitching a short burst just above the knees and taking another out of the fight. He had just centered his dot on the third when his carbine locked back empty.

  Jack reached for another mag, then experienced an immediate wave of panic. He was out of ammo.

  Seeing the commander’s vulnerability, the final attacker willed every iota of energy to his body and surged toward his enemy for the kill shot.

  Cisco saw
the hatred in the ranger’s eye, the muzzle of his rifle now looking like a huge, black dinner plate and it zeroed in on Jack’s head. Just as the commander saw the assailant’s finger tighten, large chunks of his head exploded into a crimson mist as Carmen’s men found their target.

  Pulling his pistol, Jack aimed a few quick shots at the last two of Norval’s gang. Whistling pings sounded as the shots ricocheted off the surrounding stone, all missing the mark.

  Now aware that the rangers were protected by impenetrable cover, the commander realized it was going to cost a lot of lives to dig them out from behind the rocks. They didn’t say anything about having a firefight in a cave at Annapolis, Jack lamented.

  At the edge of his vision, Commander Cisco spotted another figure rise and run. Realizing it was Pickett, he loosed a string of .45-caliber slugs at the scampering shadow.

  “He’s going for the detonator!” Carmen shouted out an urgent warning.

  Her men were in no position to interfere, pinned down by the now-desperate rangers. In a heartbeat, Jack understood what was on the line.

  He came out from behind his cover, legs pumping with every ounce of strength he could muster. He could observe his nemesis clearly now, the commander’s eyes boring into Norval’s back as the beefy ranger made for the exposed wires that would detonate several pounds of explosives.

  Ranger Pickett’s head start was significant, and for several steps, the commander didn’t think he could catch up. “Push it!” Jack hissed. “Give it everything you’ve got, Commander. It’s now or never!”

  Norval stopped, bent down, lifted one wire and then scooped up a second.

  Jack could see the exposed copper ends now, Norval lowering them to what appeared to be an automobile battery. The commander wasn’t going to make it.

  Looking up from his murderous device, Pickett’s eyes bore into Jack’s soul, his lips pursing in a taunting leer. “I’ve beaten you, asshole. Nothing can stop me now!”

  Every fiber of Jack’s being focused on his stride, his knees and ankles protesting as his legs pumped like pistons to close the gap.