Humanity Gone (Book 2): Facade of Order

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Humanity Gone (Book 2): Facade of Order Page 12

by Derek Deremer


  Just a quick shot of morphine... he's suffering. I can't leave him there. God, I can't leave him there.

  “We aren't leaving without...” Ryan begins.

  “Go. I've got her.” A deep voice says and breaks my hesitation. I turn and see Michael.

  “You sure Michael?” Ryan yells.

  “Yes. We have another way out. Go now before they blow that whole damn car up.”

  Ryan nods and the SUV takes off towards the exit. Jo's sad eyes follow me as she shuts the door. An explosion rocks the SUV at is passes the exit, but it escapes down the highway. One of the helicopters breaks off and follows it.

  I quickly kneel and pull a syringe from my bag.

  “Make it quick.” Michael commands. “Give him something then I'm carrying him out.” After filling it with morphine, I inject it into Rob.

  “Rob you feel any...?” His head is face down. He no longer has a pulse.

  Rob's dead. Michael double checks and then swears.

  “You tried. Come on, get to the bus.” Michael pulls me low, and continues his aim into the sky. Before I can say, “what bus,” one of the piles of rubble in the distance begins to shake. From what looked like a mound of debris, a tour bus roars out with chunks of brick and dust following down the sides. Well, it once was a tour bus. Now, it is spray painted black and has plates of metal hastily welded to the sides. It nearly resembles a tank. The Sanctuary seems to have everything. We move across the parking lot between explosions.

  “Go.” he yells. I make a break for the bus while Michael continues to shoot. A missile slams into the side of the bus with an explosion. The bus rocks to the side, but it levels back down and with only a small blackened indentation. I need to be in that, now.

  My feet push into the concrete harder with every stride.

  BOOM! My ear drum nearly bursts, and I am thrown from my feet and land a few yards away. Everything goes silent except for a high pitched ring.

  My vision becomes hazy.

  A hand grabs the back of my shirt.

  “Let's go, darling.” Michael's voice pushes through the silence in my head. The rest of the chaos returns to my ears. He is beside me and pretty much drags me closer to the bus.

  “Boys, we loaded up yet?”

  My blurry eyes turn towards the bus. Several of the Sanctuary men are lugging out boxes from the compound and throwing them into the luggage space of the bus.

  “Mostly sir.”

  “That's enough. Get aboard. We have to abandon ship.”

  “Alright sir we...” A wave of flames engulfs the area where the man stood, and nothing remains. Michael swears and turns back to the helicopter. I can only hear his stream of curses in between his bursts of fire. Now standing, I limp for the bus as my ears continue to ring. I pass the tattered remains of bodies. I really don't know how many are dead. Some of the remaining men are getting onto the bus. It's not too much farther. I look back to Michael. His eyes are angry and he shoots wildly at the choppers with no effect. The gun runs out of ammo and he pulls out a pistol and begins to shoot.

  I turn back to the bus but trip over a body. My chest slams into the asphalt and again my wind gets knocked out of me. Looking down, my eyes widen. I didn't watch much TV before the plague, but I watched enough to know that it is an RPG. I turn over onto my backside and pull out the weapon from under the body. It's heavy but I can manage it.

  “Michael!” I scream as I hobble to my feet with the rocket launcher in my hands. Where did the Sanctuary even get these kinds of weapons? Michael turns to me and a mild grin flickers across his lips. He runs towards me with one hand outstretched.

  “Here!” he shouts. With both hands I lob it to him and he catches it in his chest. He turns it around in his hands and lugs it on his shoulder.

  “Now get clear. Get on the bus.” I nod and run the best that I can. I make it to the front of the bus and turn briefly. Michael kneels in the middle of the shattered parking lot. Around him are many pieces of bodies. Most I don't recognize. They are Michael's men. He aims the RPG into the sky off of his stable shoulder. He swears at the chopper and then smoke pours from the tube as the rocket takes to the sky.

  One of the helicopters explodes. The other ones immediately soar higher into the sky as the flaming shell of the one falls to the parking lot. I guess they didn't figure we had that kind of fire power either. Michael comes up beside me with the launcher still over his shoulder. He tilts his head towards the door, and we both climb up into the bus. The cabin is narrow, and more steel is haphazardly welded to the inside, forming braces between the walls. Several men are perched at the windows looking though tiny peep holes between the steel. The back part of the bus is open and a large gun is mounted at the end. One of the Sanctuary's men stands behind it and continues to shoot at the helicopters rising into the sky. As the bus gathers speed through the entrance and down the road, I stare through the gun opening and watch the Sanctuary become smaller and smaller. Now, there was absolutely nothing left to the motel. The entire place is nearly leveled.

  Michael turns to the driver.

  “Is this all? Did you see anyone else we need to get?” The driver shakes his head. Briefly his eyes water, then with a wipe of his wrist it is all replaced with anger. He slams the launcher to the ground with both hands.

  Please don't take this out on me. We didn't mean for this to happen.

  “They either followed you or knew we were there.” Michael glares at me and then at the wall. He wants to place blame somewhere. After a pause he calms his breath. “It doesn't matter it was only a matter of time. They wanted to kill us all. Dammit.”

  I thought he would blame us. I guess when he watched our guys dying he knew we were on in the same sinking boat. After a few minutes the bus becomes silent. The machine gunner in the back closes the hatch; it seems we are away from the danger. There are eight of us on the bus. None of them are people I recognize. Doug is not here either.

  Michael looks up through the driver's window.

  “They are going to pay.”

  He turns to me with the anger mildly suppressed.

  “Sorry, are you okay?”

  “Yea, I'm fine.”

  He takes a few more deep breaths. “Sorry about those outbursts.”

  “No I understand. I'm sorry about all your men.”

  “Me too,” he replies. “Me too...” He stares out ahead. Their home is gone. I say the only thing I can think of.

  “You're welcome to join us. I'm sure Ryan would welcome it after today.” I think we can trust them.

  Michael looks out the plated window again and back to his men who are all checking their weapons.

  “Show us the way.”

  I move beside the driver and spend the remainder of the trip giving him directions to our neighborhood. We never pass the car Carter was in. They must have made it out. God, I hope he is okay. Michael and his men are quiet in the back throughout the trip.

  When we arrive back, everyone rushes out to meet us. Carter is among them. He looks fine except for the white bandage wrapped around his head. I run to him and wrap my arms around him. He seems a little dazed still, but holds me with all of his strength. I worried I would never see him again. I could have held on forever, but he finally releases me, and I turn around.

  Michael looks at Carter and gets straight to the point. “Get Ryan. I want to act now.”

  A few hours later, Carter, Ryan, David, and Michael are all gathered in a tent outside the school.

  “We need to do something,” Michael nearly barks. “They need to die. I need them to die.”

  “Calm down.” Ryan begins. Michael's eyes glare at him and for a moment. I think he is about to hit him.

  “I want the president. President Matthews. He's gonna answer for everything he's done.”

  “The president? Is that even possible?” David responds.

  “Oh trust me, it's possible. We've been doing reconnaissance for some time.”

  Ryan and David lead
Michael to the school. Apparently they aren't going to wait around. As soon as they are away, I nearly tackle Carter again with my embrace. We were so lucky back at the Sanctuary. After a moment I back up and look up at him.

  “Why didn't you just get in the car?” I ask. He hesitates before answering.

  “I was worried that - well the helicopters would just follow us. I figured I would stay and help keep them distracted as best I could.”

  For a moment I consider slapping him again. He can't keep doing this.

  “So you were just going to throw your life away with some crazy idea?”

  “Not throw away. For you. For all of you. For my family.”

  “We need you, too. So start thinking about yourself, too.”

  “That's easier said than done.”

  “Well you have to try. For me. For Caitlyn. For Jo.”

  “I know.” He answers. We stare at each other. No matter what he says, he will readily forfeit his life for ours. I just wish we didn't live at a time that it was necessary to think about. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I respond. We spend a few minutes alone before we join everyone else in the school.

  * * *

  “If we take him it will be chaos. He has the entirety of New America believing that he is their savior. We take him and it may give us the leverage we need. And I get the satisfaction I need.”

  Carter and I walk into the meeting that already seems well in progress.

  “Let's just kill him. Wouldn't that be enough?” David suggests to Michael. His arm is still in a sling.

  “He cannot be a martyr. We take him. We break him. We show the world what he really is.”

  “It sounds like you want to start an open war?” David says. I thought we already were in open war.

  “He already started the war.” Michael says looking down into a tightened fist. “If his little facade of order is allowed to last, if his New America continues to get foot-holes, he will kill us all and sooner rather than later.”

  Ryan seems to consider it for a moment and then nods.

  “So we go to the capital,” Michael continues while pointing to the map on the table. “We've been planning a mission like this for some time. It is completely secure. Sentries stand every twenty yards on the wall. Security roams the streets night and day. Most who live there are part of the military and probably trigger happy enough as it is. We just need to give them all something to shoot at. I will lead a large group with my bus to create a distraction at the front entrance of the capital. We'll get everyone's attention in the whole city. Make them scared. We have enough fire power in the bus to make them think hell's gates just opened on them. They will think we are retaliating for today's attack. Then, at the same time, another team will enter over the back wall. In the confusion they will sneak in and get out with him. He...”

  “But how do we know where he will be?” David tries to interrupt.

  “Please don't interrupt me. He calls the shots from a safe location: his house. In case of an attack he won't be leaving his home; I'm sure of it. His base of operations is there anyway. Like any other president before him, he fights wars from a recliner in an air conditioned house.”

  “Do we know he's even there?” David asks again.

  “Definitely. After today's attack, he's there now. He knows we will be out for blood, especially since they know our firepower. He will feel his safest there. Somewhere our bus can't just roll up beside. We need to do this tonight.”

  Tonight? After everything that happened this morning he wants to go back in? I share a nervous glance with Carter.

  “After this morning you want to go back?” Ryan asks. I can tell he wants to call Michael crazy.

  “Yes.”

  We look around hesitantly. Ryan shakes his head slightly. “Michael I don't know. We've planned much more for much less.”

  “Ryan, the chance is now. You have to see that. I've done most of the planning. We have maps that will lead us right to him. Besides, how much longer can you hide here? That helicopter attack was one of the most aggressive things they've done. It won't be the last. They know many of us escaped. I'd be afraid he's going to search harder than ever before. This retaliation could keep those choppers at bay.”

  We all look around at each other again. No one likes this idea, but it is David who speaks up.

  “Well, let's do it. Hell, I'm in.” Slowly a few other people speak up agreeing with the plan. I am still leery.

  At the end of the day we are all children playing war. What do any of us know? I consider saying it aloud, but what do I know. They've been doing this much longer than me.

  “Fine. I'll lead the group at the back. Give me all the intel you have to his house.” Ryan says. “David's been training us for this kind of mission since day one.”

  “So were we, but most of them are dead,” Michael quietly says. The harshness in his voice has toned down. It returns to a lighter tone. “The Sanctuary will take care of the decoy attack in the front.”

  “I'll go with you,” Carter says turning to Michael. My heart drops. “It seems like the diversion group will be in the greatest danger so the majority of my medical team will go with them. Also, since we need a diversion, I have an idea to get their attention. David, I'm going to need what's left of your truck.”

  “She's shot to hell anyway. Send her off properly.” David disappointingly responds.

  What is he going to do? Didn't we just have a talk about throwing your life away?

  After a few more specifics, the meeting finishes and we finally disperse to prepare for the operation, I walk alongside Carter and help him gather what he needs. A convoy of cars begins to form at the cul-de-sac. Men carry weapons and ammo into the trunks. I help Carter gather some cans of gasoline and a few propane tanks. I didn't like any of this. It seemed like just another unnecessary risk. Wasn't all the bloodshed this morning enough? Why can't we just live our lives?

  Sure Cole Matthews is a tyrant.

  Sure he is evil.

  But what can we do about it?

  This small group has struggled along and despite our raids and liberations, we have gone unnoticed. This would put us in the spotlight that we can never return from.

  Sitting beneath the window with a .22 rifle comes into focus in my mind.

  What if this is the time I need to pull the trigger?

  Chapter 19: Carter

  My truck leads the convoy through the blackness of night towards the capital. I have driven by the city several times throughout the years and knew the route the best. I sit alone in the silent truck as it bumps along. I look in the review mirror at the gasoline in the back. This car is already dangerous enough with all of that in the bed; I don't want to endanger anyone else. This is my idea, and I would feel guilty giving the responsibility to someone else. Sorry Paige. My life will always come after the lives of others.

  I turn onto the exit ramp, and decelerate. We will be there within a half hour. My hand moves to the white bandage on my head. The bandage comes off easily and I throw it on the vacant passenger's seat. I still have a headache, but it was manageable. I glance in the rear-view mirror at my forehead- only a small scrape. When I came to in the SUV my face was covered in blood. I nearly passed out again, but then I noticed Paige wasn't with me. Despite the concussion, Kevin had to hold me down so I wouldn't run back to the Sanctuary. I was never more worried.

  And I was never more relieved than when she showed up on the Sanctuary bus.

  About a mile from the capital, my hand shifts the truck into park. I open the door and take a look outside. We are on a rural road amongst trees and overgrown fields. In the distance, light from the capital illuminates the sky with a soft haze. The other vehicles come to a halt along the side of the road and several of the drivers get out and approach me. The final vehicle in the rear is the Sanctuary's bus. The groups of men walk alongside the truck. Each is dressed for war: bulletproof vests, blue jumpsuits, and covered with weapons an
d ammo. Most of the materials were courtesy of David's former employer and Michael's arsenal under the bus.

  Ryan is among the group. He pulls out binoculars and looks straight ahead towards the haze of light.

  “This is it. I can see the spotlights at the entrance maybe a half mile away. You all should go unnoticed here for the next hour. Are we sure this is a good idea?” Ryan asks. It is one of the first times he has ever looked uncertain. He turns to me. “Are you sure we should do this?”

  “Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “Think of what he will be worth if we can take him alive. The New Americans will be in shambles without this guy.”

  “Do we really know he is the cause of all this?” he asks. While I worked in the mines, the presidential convoy visited. Four men were slaughtered for looking at him wrong, our work day was lengthened, and he called me “boy.”

  “Yes. He is.” I sternly say staring forward. Ryan and I have had this conversation before.

  Ryan reaches to his belt and pulls out the radio. He holds it out to me. I shake my head.

  “Who knows what kind of scanners they have in there. Just be on time, slick,” I say. He nods and tucks it away. I am sure Ryan knows that; he's afraid of this getting ugly. He turns to the rest of our huddle:

  “Gentlemen, be careful. The diversion group will hold up here. Remember; when you attack do not get too close. Just get their attention and stay out of range of their guns. Those with me let's get going.” Ryan finishes calmly before they head back to the vehicles. Ryan's two SUV's leave the convoy and begin the long journey around the capital through desolate suburban streets. I see Caitlyn's face through the tinted window of Ryan's SUV. She stares out blankly and doesn't even seem to see me. I should not have let her come on this trip. I know Ryan wanted her for her bow, but sometimes he is too busy looking at the larger picture. She's not cut out for this anymore.

  It will take them about an hour to get there. I step to the driver's side door and look at the clock on the dashboard.

  A soft blue 1:55 AM illuminates the cabin.

  We will move in an hour. I open the door and have a seat. I have a lot to think about over the next sixty minutes.

 

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