Solar Plexus

by Victor Zugg

  Bullets ripped through the cabin’s north wall and shattered nick-knacks and pictures on the opposite wall. Each hole left a shaft of light. Sam crawled to the center of the room, grabbed hold of Emma, and dragged her with him across the wood plank floor to the kitchen. Sam shoved her against the far side of the refrigerator.

  “Don’t move from this spot,” he said. “I’ve got to get outside to do any good.”

  Emma curled into a fetal position on the floor and nodded her head.

  Sam checked to make sure he had his pistol holstered and extra magazines for it and his rifle. He then crawled to the kitchen door and reached up to turn the knob. He pushed the door open with his elbow, stole a glance outside, and crawled over the threshold.

  Once outside he was better able to hear the gunfire still coming from the stream mixed in with the continued fire from the north side of the clearing, which actually sounded like it was getting closer. Sam figured the men were working themselves closer to the cabin.

  Sam crawled across the slate stone patio and took cover behind his brick barbecue. He came to a kneeling position behind the barbecue and brought his rifle around the corner. The pump house filled the lens of his magnifier. He swung the barrel through a ninety-degree arc but no one came into view. He then scurried back to the cabin wall and inched his way toward the northeast corner. He glimpsed around the corner and saw the two men walking toward the front of the cabin while continuing to fire through the walls.

  Sam brought his rife up, captured the first man in his sight, and fired three quick rounds. The man spun around and spilled to the ground just as Sam moved his sight to the next man. Sam recognized Smith. Three more rounds and Smith lay sprawled on the ground.

  ***

  Just as the man aimed his rifle at Charlie, Chet stepped from behind the tree, rifle shouldered, aimed. The man’s smile turned to a frown as he caught sight of Chet. Three rounds found their mark in the man’s center mass. The impact punched him backward and to the ground before he could pull the trigger on his rifle.

  “Check these guys to make sure they are down and out,” Chet said, as he started trotting toward the gunfire coming from the cabin and the stream.

  Charlie nodded as he moved forward.

  Chet scampered across the road, into the forest on the north side of the cabin, and then from tree to tree. As he worked his way to the clearing, he saw three men lying in the grass a few yards in front of the cabin. Sam had apparently taken them out.

  The only gunfire came from the stream—Tiff and Taylor. Chet veered to the left and dashed from tree to tree as he worked his way toward the water and the sound of gunfire. If he continued in the due east direction he’d come out about fifty yards north of where the clearing met the stream bank.

  Chet stopped at the tree line and took cover behind a large oak. Down the embankment, he could see two men firing on Tiff and Taylor who were pinned behind a fallen tree trunk. Bullets splintered the wood as Tiff and Taylor hugged the ground unable to get a shot off.

  Chet was about to raise his rifle when he caught movement in his peripheral vision to his left, across the stream. A third man was working his way around to flank Tiff. As soon as the man stepped down to the stream bank, Chet brought his rifle up and pulled the trigger three times. The man dropped his rifle, grabbed at his stomach, and fell face first into the water.

  The two men firing at Tiff paused for a moment and caught sight of Chet. They turned their rifles and fired just as Chet ducked behind the oak tree.

  ***

  When Tiff heard the gunfire from her left flank, she tensed her body and waited for the rounds to rip through her flesh. After a few moments with no bullet holes in her torso, she glanced to her left and saw Chet duck behind an oak tree. The two men across the stream resumed their fire. Tiff saw the rounds hit the trees around Chet and realized they were shooting at him, not her. Tiff took the opportunity to throw her rifle barrel over the top of the tree trunk, take quick aim, and pulled the trigger continuously until her thirty-round magazine was empty. She ducked behind the trunk to slap a new mag into the rifle. She glanced at Taylor. He was wrapped in a fetal position with his arms around his head. His rifle lay in the dirt.

  That’s when she heard gunfire from the south along the stream. She peeked one eye over the tree trunk toward the south and saw Sam in the brush on her side of the stream about fifty yards down. The fourth man lay prone on the opposite bank.

  Suddenly, except for the ringing in her ears, everything was quiet in Tiff’s muffled world. She scanned the opposite forest where the two men were shooting at her. They were out of sight. She then looked down at Taylor who was still curled in a ball. She kicked him in the ass. “Asshole,” she mumbled.

  CHAPTER 25

  Sam crossed the stream and stopped for a moment to check the man sprawled on the bank. He was dead. Sam entered the tree line and began working his way toward where the two men had been firing at Tiff and Taylor.

  He saw Tiff stand with her rifle shouldered. She swept the rifle back and forth in a one-hundred and eighty-degree arc which covered the entire tree line on the opposite bank. She stepped over the tree trunk and moved toward the water line.

  Sam then saw Taylor stick his head above the trunk but didn’t move from there.

  Sam came up to the spot where the two men had been firing at Tiff. Chet stepped from the brush at about the same time. Behind a bush, both the men who had been firing at Tiff were on the ground. Neither moved. Both were riddled with bullet holes. Blood stained their clothing.

  “Both dead,” Sam yelled.

  Chet moved closer to Sam. “Charlie and I got three in the woods, you got three by the cabin, and we have four here. That makes ten. I think our work is done.”

  “Mostly,” Sam replied, as he started toward the stream.

  Tiff stood at the stream’s edge as Sam sloshed through the water toward her. Taylor walked up and stood by her side.

  Sam motioned to the cabin and then looked at Tiff. “You might want to check on your Mom. She’s okay but the cabin got shot to hell and she’s probably worried about you.”

  Tiff nodded, turned, and started off. Taylor turned to follow her.

  “Taylor, hold up a minute,” Sam said.

  Chet sloshed through the water and joined them. “We’ll need a shovel for these guys.”

  Sam nodded. “Taylor and I will be with you shortly.

  Chet glanced back and forth between Taylor and Sam who were each staring at each other. Chet walked away toward the cabin.

  “What’s up?” Taylor asked.

  “These guys didn’t kill Elliot,” Sam said. There was no doubt in his voice or his meaning.

  Taylor said nothing. He just stared into Sam’s eyes with a slight smirk on his face.

  “That doesn’t leave too many suspects,” Sam continued.

  Taylor studied Sam’s face for a few moments and then turned and walked off without saying a word.

  Sam’s eyes followed Taylor as he walked away. Sam climbed the bank and followed. Sam saw Chet approaching across the clearing with two shovels in hand. Taylor passed him without a glance. Chet stopped, eyed Taylor, and then resumed walking toward Sam.

  Sam met Chet and took one of the shovels. “We bury Elliot first and then Dave, Tina, and Bobby.”

  Chet nodded and fell in behind Sam. Charlie exited the cabin and walked to meet Sam and Chet.

  “I’ll give you guys a hand,” Charlie said.

  “Appreciated. How’s Emma?” Sam asked, as Charlie fell in beside them.

  “Shaken, but she’ll live. She and Tiff are trying to clean up the cabin.”

  “Taylor?” Sam asked.

  “Taylor…. he’s being very quiet,” Charlie replied.

  Sam nodded as the three walked into the garage and got into the Hummer. Sam fired the engine and then backed the Hummer out.

  ***

  It was late afternoon when Sam and Chet leaned their shovels against the wall in the garage.
It was a tight fit in there with the Hummer. Sam looked at his dirty hands and then at the dirt smudges on Chet and Charlie’s face.

  “We should wash up before we go in,” Sam said.

  “Lead the way,” Charlie said.

  Sam led the two men toward the stream. They passed a single mound in the clearing at the edge of the tree line, near the stream.

  “Too bad about Elliot,” Charlie said. “Tiff sure seemed to like him.”

  “He was one of the good ones,” Chet said.

  Sam said nothing.

  At the stream, the three men washed their hands and faces and then stood up facing the opposite bank. Four mounds were visible a few feet inside the brush.

  “What about the town?” Chet asked.

  “I guess we should let them know their new police chief is dead,” Sam said. “Tomorrow.”

  They turned toward the cabin and saw Tiff standing next to Elliot’s grave. Sam, Chet, and Charlie joined her there.

  “If Jones didn’t kill Elliot, who did?” Tiff asked, as she continued to stare at the grave.

  Nobody said anything.

  “Jones and his men were tied up with you guys in town,” Tiff continued.

  “We were hiding in the woods for several hours and he wasn’t on the road when we came out early this morning,” Sam said. “I suppose they had time.”

  “Neither of his weapons had been fired,” Chet reminded everyone.

  “Doesn’t make sense,” Tiff said. “No way Jones could have found Elliot in the dark, in the woods, and got close enough to break his neck without a shot.”

  “Maybe he just tripped in the dark,” Charlie said.

  “Tripped in the dark and his pistol ends up twenty feet away,” Chet said.

  “Was Taylor with you the whole time last night,” Sam asked.

  “You think Taylor killed Elliot?” Charlie asked.

  “He did go out alone,” Tiff said. “He said he was keeping watch from outside.”

  Suddenly her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched. She spun on her heels and marched toward the cabin. Sam, Chet, and Charlie followed.

  “Wait, you can’t possibly think Taylor had anything to do with this,” Charlie said.

  Tiff ignored him and burst through the kitchen door. Emma was sweeping glass into a pile.

  “Where’s Taylor?” Tiff demanded.

  Emma stopped sweeping. “He was in the other room.”

  Tiff marched forward, followed by Sam, Chet, Charlie, and Emma.

  Taylor was not in the family room. Tiff checked the two bedrooms and the bathroom. She returned to the family room and shook her head.

  “Look, we don’t know that Taylor had anything to do with it,” Sam said. “Probably just a coincidence. Maybe Elliot did trip in the dark.”

  At that moment the sound of the Hummer’s engine turning over caught everyone’s attention. Sam slapped his pants pocket where he normally kept the keys. “Keys are in the truck.”

  Everyone raced out the front door and around to the left toward the garage. The engine purred while the gears jammed. Just as Sam approached the open garage doors, the Hummer rolled back a bit and jolted to a stop. The engine stalled.

  “I guess you never learned to drive a shift,” Sam said loud enough for Taylor to hear.

  Taylor opened the door and stepped out. “No, never did.”

  “Where were you going?” Tiff asked.

  “Just backing the truck to the front door,” Taylor said. “We never finished unloading the food and stuff.”

  Tiff glanced at Sam. Sam raised an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Good idea,” Chet said, as he slipped into the driver’s seat. “I’ll back it out.”

  Chet started the engine, shifted the gears, and backed the Hummer up to the front door. He killed the engine and hopped out. Sam popped open the rear hatch and started handing items to everyone standing around. Sam handed Tiff two cases of MRE’s.

  Tiff took them with both arms. When she turned toward the cabin door, the bottom of the first box came open and twelve individual MRE packs fell to the ground.

  “Shit,” Tiff said.

  Emma stepped to help pick up the packs. “Tiffany, your language.”

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  Taylor joined them. He folded the bottom of the box so it would stay shut and then helped replace the MRE packs. Everyone else continued shuttling items into the cabin while Sam handed them out. Emma stood, grabbed two bags of rice from Sam and headed for the cabin.

  Taylor stood and handed the now refilled MRE case to Tiff, placing it on top of the box she held in her hands.

  Tiff suddenly stopped and scrunched her nose. She dropped both boxes on the ground and stepped up to Taylor just as Chet came out of the cabin. Tiff stuck her head close to Taylor’s chest, and then his arm, his right arm. Then she stood up straight and stared at Taylor’s face.

  Taylor stood with a confused expression. “What?”

  Tiff didn’t answer. She just stared at Taylor.

  “What is it?” Sam asked, as he and Chet stepped closer.

  “Eucalyptus,” Tiff said, calmly.

  “What is eucalyptus?” Taylor asked.

  “Bug repellent,” Sam said, as he turned to face Taylor. He bent forward, closer to Taylor’s arm, and inhaled through his nose.

  Taylor jumped back. “What is happening to you people?”

  Sam straightened and then glanced at Chet.

  Chet stepped up to Taylor and bent closer.

  Taylor jumped back again. “Get the hell away from me,” he yelled, just as Emma and Charlie came out of the cabin.

  Chet nodded to Sam.

  “What is going on?” Emma asked.

  “These people have suddenly gone bonkers,” Taylor said.

  Sam glanced at Emma and Charlie. “Eucalyptus,” Sam said. “Bug repellent. There’s only one person in our group who used the stuff.”

  “Elliot,” Tiff said.

  Taylor shrugged his shoulders as though wrongly accused of something. “So what, I borrowed some.”

  “When?” Sam asked, as he stepped closer to Taylor.

  “Look, you people stay the hell away from me,” Taylor yelled, as he backed up.

  Sam, shaking his head in disbelief, took two steps toward Taylor. As fast as a rattlesnake, Taylor pivoted on his left leg, brought his right foot up close to his left knee, and sprung it forward catching Sam in the midsection. Sam bent over expelling all the air from his lungs, staggered back, and then went down to one knee. Chet started toward Taylor who brought his fists up close to his chin and spread his legs apart in a fighter’s stance.

  Three loud blasts startled everyone, everyone except Taylor. He just fell backward, full length, and thumped into the dirt driveway. Everyone turned to look at Tiff.

  She stood stoically as she stared at Taylor’s dead body on the ground. Her XDs 9 in her hand hung to her thigh. Smoke wisped from the barrel.

  Emma put her hand to her mouth, ran over, and knelt beside Taylor. There were three bloody holes—two center mass and one in the forehead. She stood up, tears running down her cheek, and turned to Tiff.

  “Why?”

  She said nothing. She just holstered her pistol, turned, and walked across the clearing toward Elliot’s grave.

  Sam stood trying to get his breath back and watched Tiff walk away. He then turned back to Emma. “Elliot was the only person we know who used eucalyptus. He obviously used it last night to keep the mosquitoes at bay. Taylor had the opportunity last night and he certainly had the motive. Elliot’s neck was broken. Taylor was trained to do just that. When he did so, some of Elliot’s bug repellent rubbed off on Taylor. He killed Elliot.”

  “But she didn’t even give him a chance to explain,” Emma said.

  “For her, the evidence was overwhelming.”

  “Now what?” Charlie asked.

  Chet let out a slow exhale. “Now we have another body to bury.”

 
“And then what?” Emma asked.

  Sam walked over to Taylor and stood looking down at his body. “We start surviving.”

  About the Author

  Victor Zugg is a former US Air Force officer and OSI special agent who served and lived all over the world. He has researched and published a number of nonfiction articles, all historical in nature. Real apocalyptic events in our past and his interest in dystopian fiction is what led to this book. Given his extensive travels and opportunities to settle anywhere, it is ironic that he now resides in Daytona Beach, Florida, only a few miles from his hometown of Orlando. He credits the warm temperatures for that decision.