The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 3): Crusade

by Demers, J. D.

  “You said until they are rallied together? Who’s rallying them?” Fish asked.

  “That would be Tikel,” Sheriff Green told him dryly. “He’s the primary alpha, it appears.”

  Campbell pressed a button on the keyboard as he spoke.

  “Each tribe seems to have its own alpha. All of them are male in the three clans we observed, and all are larger than average individuals. We caught Tikel moving from one clan’s area to another. Every one of the scabs, including each clan alpha, seemed to be subservient to him.”

  The video skipped ahead until it came across a farm building. Out front were eleven scabs. Some were lying down while others seemed to be fashioning weapons. It was hard to tell. Then the massive Ogre walked into the frame. The other scabs seemed to go on alert. They all scampered around on both their hands and feet like monkeys, bowing their heads to the giant.

  The camera zoomed in on the Ogre as it approached the scabs. Each creature beside Tikel was at least a head shorter and a third the width of the beast. His chains were wrapped up to his shoulders around his arms, crisscrossing his chest.

  “Pause that!” Fish ordered as he stood.

  Campbell complied as Fish walked up to the TV.

  He tapped the screen with his finger.

  “That…is Tikel?” Fish asked, dumbstruck.

  “Yep. That’s Tikel,” Sheriff Green confirmed.

  “Why did you call him Tickle? He looks more like a ‘House’ or ‘Tank’, not something you’d do with a feather.”

  “Sorry,” the Sheriff chuckled, “that’s his real name. Brian Tikel. T-I-K-E-L”

  “Misleading, if you ask me,” Fish scoffed as he returned to his seat.

  “I like Ogre,” I whispered to Fish as he settled beside me.

  He agreed with a wink.

  Campbell fast forwarded the video coverage and paused it again.

  “We followed Tikel to another scab den and saw the same reaction.”

  The Captain paused for a moment and swallowed.

  “We also found something else…”

  Campbell hit play.

  The image showed the drone hovering between a Hungry Howie’s Pizzeria and a Hardees fast food restaurant.

  Below, scabs were doing much of the same as we had seen from the other clan. The camera zoomed around, watching the scabs go about their business. Then, it settled on two of the creatures. One was male, the other, female.

  “Are they…?” Doctor Tripp asked in awe.

  “Yes, Doctor,” Campbell frowned. “They’re fornicating.”

  “You mean they’re having sex?” DJ blurted out. “This has got to be a joke!”

  “I wish it were,” Campbell sighed with disgust.

  “If you think about it, why wouldn’t they?” Doctor Tripp asked evenly, turning to the big man.

  DJ shied away from the question.

  “This is gross,” Pittman scowled.

  “Blasphemy,” Preacher whispered.

  “I agree with Preacher for once,” Fish growled. “Turn that smut off…sir.”

  Campbell smiled and turned off the TV.

  Doctor Tripp sat up in her chair.

  “This could be very bad,” she said. “If they’re mating, they may be reproducing.”

  Fish’s brow furrowed. “Scab babies? Is that even possible?”

  “I don’t see why not. I haven’t seen any evidence to suggest they are sterile or have lost their reproductive ability. If anything, this may point in the opposite direction.”

  “If and when we see evidence of reproduction, we can address that,” Dobson said in mild annoyance. “For now, let’s focus on the task at hand: making it though Scab Country.”

  “I have an idea that may help with the initial incursion,” Luke offered.

  “Does that mean you’re coming with us?” Fish asked.

  “No. I feel obligated to help the General take on the Bogdons.”

  “Understood,” Dobson said, pressing the briefing forward. “So, let’s hear this plan of yours.”

  The meeting continued. Luke came up with a plan that would draw a decent amount of scabs away from our initial route through Scab Country. It was an intriguing and brazen plan, requiring a nighttime raid to a pawn shop located just across the bridge. Luke, Fish, and Enrique would be taking on that task.

  Unfortunately, after about two and half miles into Dixie County, we would be playing it by ear.

  Another issue was that only two other people besides Sheriff Green volunteered to go with us. Coleman, the former pilot with Delta Airlines and the Florida Air National Guard, and a man by the name of Reggie. The latter’s family was from Louisiana, and he planned on traveling with us until he got there, hoping he could find some remnants of his kin.

  The lack of volunteers cut us short on our plan. We adjusted and settled on the fact that we would just have to make do.

  We spent most of the early evening preparing our convoy for the trip through Scab Country. Fish, Enrique, and Luke returned around 9:00 PM with a truckload of electronic equipment. Preacher and a few of the refugees instantly went to work, preparing the gear for our diversion.

  I took a late-night stroll around the motor pool with Boomer, Karina, and Jenna. The German Shepherd hopped on three legs as he walked. He was a resilient canine and didn’t let the disability slow him down too much. If he was in pain, he didn’t show it. Doctor Tripp had lessened his pain medication and said she doubted it was broken, and should heal in a few days.

  We talked about the dangers we faced the next morning. Jenna wasn’t all too happy with her role in the convoy.

  “I don’t even know this guy Reggie, and he’s supposed to drive my truck?” she complained.

  “The Sheriff said he’s pretty good. He use to drive a taxi in Tallahassee,” I countered.

  “Good or not, it’s still my truck.”

  “Yeah, but your aim is better than your driving,” I noted with a smile. “Dobson wants you available to take up a sniper position if needed. You’re pretty damn dangerous with that rifle.”

  “She’s also dangerous behind the wheel,” Karina laughed. “At least, for the passengers.”

  “Shut it!” Jenna mocked, tapping Karina on the back of the head. She winced. Jenna was still nursing her arm from being shot and would be for the next couple weeks.

  “I’m more worried about you, Karina,” I said sadly. “The bus…well, it’s just not an off-road vehicle. If we have to cut through some farmland, you guys will be in trouble.”

  Karina was going to be with Doctor Tripp in the bus, helping Sheriff Green fly the drones. The two had both worked with Campbell on controlling the birds, and with Campbell driving the bus, they were the next best choices.

  “You could be stuck in the Stryker with me,” I continued.

  “That’s the safest vehicle,” Jenna smiled. “Poor you.”

  “Hey,” a voice said from the darkness. It was Nomad.

  “Hey, Luke,” Jenna said with a grin. “I heard you pulled off the pawn shop caper without any trouble.”

  He approached and dipped down, petting Boomer.

  “Yeah. No problems. We’ve eliminated most of the Zeds across the bridge in Fanning Springs and scabs seemed to be confined on this side of the river. Walk in the park. In and out in less than an hour.”

  “Are you sure your plan is going to work?” I asked.

  Luke stood back up and put his hands on his hips.

  “I don’t see why not. I stick around, activate the diversion, and then meet back up with the General.”

  “Can’t believe you’re going to do it by yourself,” Jenna said pointedly. “That’s nuts.”

  “They don’t call me Nomad for nothing,” he mused. “Besides, there isn’t any sense risking anyone else’s life. Truthfully, the biggest danger I’ll have is if my car breaks down when I leave.”

  “I still wish you were going with us,” I told him. “We could use you.”

  “It wasn’t an eas
y choice,” he grimaced.

  “Yeah, guess they’ll need you when they take on the Bogdons,” I said.

  Luke shook his head.

  “It’s not just that, Christian. There is going to be a lot of work to do. These farmers may not be keen on people moving into their area. They may feel we’re just replacing those assholes at the mill. It’s going to take some diplomacy. That’s something I’m fairly good at. Not to mention setting up the community.”

  Luke paused and slumped his shoulders before he went on.

  “The General…he’s sick. He may not last much longer. We need him to help with the assault, but after that, who knows how much longer he has. Jodi is good at what she does. But, let’s face it, we’re talking about building a small city. Power generation, housing, potable water, helping the farmers, fuel…there is a list of issues a mile long that will have to be tackled.”

  “Don’t forget about building septic tanks,” Jenna giggled.

  “Yeah, that too,” he grinned.

  “So, that’s where you’re going to hang your hat and ride out the apocalypse?” I asked.

  “Probably not. Maybe I’ll meet back up with you guys at a later date. Who knows. I’m not good at staying in one spot for too long. Makes my legs weak.”

  “Might be hard to find us,” Karina said.

  “There are only so many routes to Hoover Dam,” Luke chuckled. “And I know where you’re going to end up. But, of course, fate may take me somewhere else. Who knows.”

  “That’s right…you Green Berets don’t like to plan too far ahead,” I laughed. “I’m use to that mindset now.”

  “Reaper ever tell you not to call us that?”

  “Yeah,” I frowned. “Sorry, man. Habit. Watched Rambo too many times.”

  Luke raised an eyebrow.

  “First movie, good. I can almost say accurate to the way we were. The rest? Well, Hollywood needs to make money. I will say, there have been a few to live up to the hype, though. Roy Benavidez comes to mind. That man was a beast.”

  “Who’s that?” Karina asked.

  “A story for another time, maybe,” Luke said, checking his watch. “I need to run and check on the progress of the departure. You guys should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Take care, Luke.”

  “You, too. Best of luck. Keep your heads on straight. You’ll be fine.”

  Luke scratched Boomer’s head one more time and disappeared into the dark. I thought it was going to be the last time I would see him.

  CHAPTER 15

  Scab Country

  August 16th Morning

  The entire complex was bustling with activity hours before the sun rose.

  The refugees were preparing to depart south, toward the Taylor Farm. Our people were checking and double checking our vehicles, ensuring that they were ready for the thirty-mile trek across Scab Country.

  Campbell was flying the night drone, getting last minute locations of the scabs near our planned route. We hoped some of that would change when Luke put his Op Plan into motion.

  The sun was rising as I walked the grounds of the storage center. Up ahead of me, Sheriff Green, Coleman and Reggie were bidding their farewells to General Bolduc.

  I approached with Boomer hopping beside me on his three good legs.

  “Christian,” General Bolduc nodded. “Prepared for your journey?”

  “As much as I can be, sir,” I replied.

  “You have some good men and women with you. Have faith, son.”

  The General said goodbye to everyone before being called away to deal with the insurmountable issues that lay ahead of his caravan.

  “I hope they make it there in one piece,” Coleman noted as General Bolduc stepped away.

  “Yeah,” Reggie said. “I almost changed my mind last night.”

  Reggie was in his late fifties, short and thin. He had dark skin and reminded me of an older version of Chris Rock.

  Coleman patted him on the back.

  “Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine. We have a fire engine, remember?”

  “Wish I was driving it instead of that truck,” Reggie replied sourly.

  “Hey Reggie, you have one of our best shooters riding shotgun,” I assured him.

  “I’d prefer to have all that metal wrapped around me, like you two,” he retorted with a grin.

  Coleman, with his broken rib, and Daniel, with his head laceration, were riding with me and Dobson in the Stryker. Coleman had been training on the 50-caliber turret. He and I would use that. Enrique had spent the better part of the previous night learning how to drive the formidable armored vehicle.

  “Remember, the scabs were able to stop our Stryker last month,” Sheriff Green pointed out.

  “How did that happen?” I asked.

  “Scabs impaled the tire with something similar to a morning star. One revolution of the wheel, and the tire locked as the spikes drilled into the asphalt. Took the tire right off the axle.”

  “Wow,” I said, amazed. “Pretty smart.”

  Sheriff Green shrugged. “Not sure if they meant for it to do that, but it worked all the same.”

  The four of us began to head toward the motor pool. Boomer hopped ahead, sniffing around the now empty dog kennel.

  “Your dog’s not doing so bad,” Coleman said. “Thought he would be laid up for a while. Is his leg broken?”

  “Doctor Tripp gave him a once over last night. She said it was probably just a sprain.”

  We passed the kennel. Boomer, investigating why the other dogs were missing, stayed behind and sniffed the ground.

  “Come on, Tripod!” Sheriff Green chuckled.

  Boomer looked over at us inquisitively.

  “Yeah, you, three-legged bastard.”

  “His name is Boomer,” I told the Sheriff.

  “Tripod seems to fit better,” he said, giving me an evil grin as Boomer hopped over and continued to follow us. “At least until his leg heals.”

  “What time did Luke leave, Sheriff?” I asked as we continued toward the gate.

  “Heh, before I got up. And stop calling me Sheriff. My name is Nate. I carried the title over when I joined this group, mostly because they needed leadership. But now that I’m with you guys, it’s just Nate.”

  “Okay, Nate.” I paused for a moment. “I want to thank you guys.”

  The three men stopped and turned to me.

  “No thanks needed, pal,” Nate said. “Not much choice if we want you to make it to those doctors in Nevada.”

  “Besides,” Reggie added, “it’s my first chance to go back home. See if anyone in my family made it.”

  I felt sorry for Reggie. The life-death ratio was absurd, and the chances that any one of his relatives were still alive was slim to none.

  “I get why you’re coming,” I said to Reggie and then to the Sheriff, “and understand why you’re with us. But why you, Coleman?”

  Coleman shrugged, which seemed to irritate his ribs.

  “I’m a pilot. We do stupid shit all the time,” he said, feigning a serious expression. After a moment of silence, he smiled. “That, and… well, Major Dobson pressured me some. Said I might come in useful and promised that I get to ride in the limo.”

  “Limo?” Reggie repeated.

  “Yeah, the Stryker.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a good enough reason to go on this suicide mission,” the Sheriff frowned.

  “Well, they do still owe me five months of active duty back pay. I’m thinking I can collect when we make it to Hoover Dam,” Coleman chided.

  “You’re a buffoon, Coleman,” the Sheriff mocked.

  “I’m serious,” he continued as we marched to the motor pool. “They’re five months late!”

  The next hour was filled with disorganization and mayhem as the caravan of refugees lined up in over thirty vehicles. Eventually, Jodi and Sergeant Burghardt got everyone in line and they were ready to leave.

  We said our goo
dbyes, specifically to Jodi, Sergeant Burghardt, and General Bolduc. They had been gracious with distributing the scavenged supplies from Lake City. Grenades, Claymores, even some C4, along with ammo and food were just some of the things they shared. Of course, the refugees received the king’s portion, but we didn’t have any complaints.

  Our biggest score was the Stryker and its 50-caliber electronically guided machinegun, topped off with twelve hundred rounds. We could literally take on a small army. We were also able to requisition several cases of ammunition for the M240 and DJ even acquired two boxes of ammo for his AK47 from one of Sheriff Green’s men.

  The buses, cars, trucks and armored vehicles rolled out by 9:00 AM. The storage center was uncomfortably still and vacant. The gates to the complex had been left open, giving an ominous, deserted feeling.

  Everyone gathered around the rear hatch of the Stryker after our last-minute checks on the vehicles.

  “Any word from Nomad?” Dobson asked Fish, who was wiping a layer of grease from his hands.

  “Not yet, sir. We still have half an hour until he is supposed to report in.”

  “Yes, I know. Just curious on his status.”

  Dobson peered into the Stryker’s crew compartment.

  “Coleman, Daniel. How are you two holding up?”

  Daniel waved at the side of his head and gave the Major a sarcastic grin.

  “Fine, except, of course, for this ginormous papercut on my head.”

  Dobson frowned.

  “I’m kidding, Major. I’ll be okay. Just won’t be wearing any hats for a while.”

  “Me too, Major. I’m as fit as Humpty Dumpty,” Coleman replied from the gunner console.

  “Is that before or after he fell off the wall?” I asked with a smile.

  “Lucky you, sir,” Fish interjected before Coleman could respond. “You get to ride with the losers of Last Comic Standing.”

  Dobson sighed, agreeing. He glanced around the group and took in a deep breath.

  “Okay everyone. The next couple of hours are going to be intense. If Nomad is successful, he will draw Tikel in with his diversion. That’s only, of course, if Tikel is still local.”

  “Does one scab really make a difference?” DJ asked. “There are, what, three hundred still out there?”