Hope Survives

by Harley Tate

  Madison unhooked her seatbelt and clambered into the back seat with her gun. Two snowmobiles followed them into the trees. She kneeled on the rear seat and unzipped the rear window on the soft top before positioning the rifle in the opening. “I’ll keep shooting. Maybe we can slow them down.”

  “Good. Because I have no idea where I’m going!”

  While Brianna kept driving farther into the forest, Madison took aim. The Jeep hit a dip in the ground as she fired and the shot went high. She cursed and tried again. Wide left.

  The Jeep slowed and the snowmobiles gained. She shouted back at Brianna. “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t see more than ten or fifteen feet ahead. Too many trees and this busted windshield is giving me fits!”

  Damn it. Madison sucked in a breath and tried to focus. She couldn’t let them overtake them or run them into a tree. She had to make the shot.

  I can do this. She swallowed a thick wad of spit and fear and leaned over to bring the closest driver into her sights. Bulletproof vests meant she couldn’t aim for the big, squishy middle and the easy target. She had to shoot to kill.

  Madison exhaled and fired a cluster of shots, pulling the trigger five times in a row. The last shot hit the driver in the head. He flew back, landing hard in the snow. The snowmobile kept coming, engine running, driverless. It slammed into a tree and flipped on its side.

  The other driver swerved his rig around the crashed snowmobile and accelerated. He couldn’t have been more than thirty feet behind them.

  Madison called to Brianna. “I got one!”

  “Is he dead?”

  “I don’t think so, but his snowmobile is in a tree.”

  “What about the other one?”

  She grimaced. “Gaining.” Madison leaned over and fired another series of shots. The snowmobile jerked and slowed for a moment before darting to the left. “I might have hit him, but he’s still coming.”

  “Shoot him!”

  “It’s not that easy.” Madison twisted to face the driver’s side of the Jeep. “He’s moved into the trees. He’s flanking us on your side.”

  Brianna turned in the front seat. “I see him!”

  Madison unzipped the side window and flecks of snow kicked up from the Jeep’s tires pelted her in the face. She leaned over and tried to aim, but the bits of flying snow and ice kept coming. Every time a needle of ice landed near her eye, she blinked. “I can’t get a shot. Too much kickback from the tires.”

  “Could you shoot out the back?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll speed up and see if we can get ahead of him.”

  Before Madison could object, Brianna punched the gas. Madison fell onto the floorboard and her rifle clattered down on top of her. As she struggled to right herself, Brianna let out a shout.

  “Hold on!”

  Madison curled up into a ball as the Jeep lost traction on the passenger side. Two wheels came off the ground. Brianna screamed. The four-by-four slammed into something hard and unforgiving. Forward momentum threw Madison against Brianna’s seat and her head slammed into the door.

  The entire rear of the vehicle lifted, propelled forward by the Jeep’s speed and velocity pre-crash. It hung in the air a moment, a few feet off the ground, before crashing back to earth. Madison bounced against the floorboard. Pain arced across her hip.

  The world was still.

  “Brianna?” Madison struggled to sit up. “Are you all right?”

  Her best friend didn’t answer. Madison’s head pounded and her eyes couldn’t focus. She had to move. The last snowmobile driver was out there. “Brianna?”

  Finally, a groan. “I’m here.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I think my leg is broken.”

  Madison pressed her lips together. They would never be able to escape on foot now. She eased up to look out the rear driver’s-side window.

  “Any sign of the asshole chasing us?”

  “Not yet.” Madison maneuvered around the back seat of the Jeep, avoiding the contents that flew about in the crash, to retrieve her rifle. “He’s got to be watching us. What is he waiting for?”

  “To see if we’re still alive is my guess.”

  “Can you walk?”

  Brianna grunted. “Not likely.”

  “Then I have to flush him out.”

  “No.” Brianna tried to twist in the seat, letting out a shout of pain before falling back. “You’ll be dead before you make it five feet.”

  “We can’t just stay in here.”

  “That’s exactly what we do. Eventually, curiosity will get the better of him and he’ll expose himself.”

  “Then what?”

  “We shoot him.” Brianna groaned and Madison eased through the two front seats. She gasped. Brianna’s leg wasn’t just broken. Her knee had swollen more than twice its normal size. It looked like a grapefruit sitting on top of her leg.

  “You need help. Pain relievers and ice and probably a brace.”

  “Everything’s in the U-Haul.” Brianna grunted out the words as she tried to move her leg to elevate it. She made it halfway before letting out a sob. “You have to stay vigilant and find that guy. It’s the only way out of here.”

  “Will the Jeep start?”

  Brianna frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “Try it.”

  She pressed her good foot on the brake and turned the key. It clicked but wouldn’t turn over. Brianna tried a few more times, cranking the key and pumping the gas before leaning back in defeat. “Nope.”

  “Then I’ll have to hike out and find the U-Haul.” Madison glanced the way they came. “Assuming my dad and Larkin were able to save it.”

  “Don’t forget Colt. He’s in the back.”

  Madison would have given anything to have one of the three men with them right now. She chewed on her lip. “Try to rest. I’ll watch for the snowmobile or the driver. If I don’t see him soon, I’ll head out.”

  Brianna nodded and Madison climbed back into the back seat. She zipped up the windows to preserve what little heat was left inside the vehicle before fishing a pair of binoculars out of the rear cargo area. Starting on the driver’s side, Madison worked her way slowly around the Jeep, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Halfway around, she saw something dark in the snow in the direction the snowmobile had been headed. There was too much uneven ground and too many trees to be sure.

  She glanced up at the sky. Nightfall would be coming soon. If she didn’t find the man before it got dark, Madison didn’t know what she was going to do.

  After watching for thirty minutes, she leaned over to check on Brianna. Her best friend leaned back against the driver’s seat, eyes closed. Madison shook her shoulder. “Brianna?”

  No response.

  She shook her a little harder and her head lolled to the side. Crap. She thought back to the crash and pulled Brianna’s hair away from her face. A goose egg the size of her fist swelled on the side of the head to match her knee. Brianna must have slammed into the steering wheel. She probably had a concussion.

  Madison shivered. The temperature in the Jeep was rapidly dropping. If she didn’t figure out a way to keep Brianna warm, she would freeze to death.

  Chapter Fourteen

  WALTER

  Northwoods Boulevard

  Truckee, CA

  5:00 p.m.

  Larkin slowed the U-Haul to a stop and turned back to face the front.

  Walter let out a trapped breath. “They aren’t coming.”

  “Not yet.”

  “We should go back for Ben.”

  “He’s probably already dead.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Larkin checked the gauges on the truck. “If this were summer, we’d be an overheated mess right now.”

  “If this were summer, we wouldn’t be in a face-off with a pack of snowmobiles.”

  “Guess that’s one good thing about the snow.” Larkin leaned back and rubbed a hand down his
face. “Did you see what happened to Brianna and Madison?”

  “I saw the Jeep take off for the woods right before we turned the corner.”

  “Anyone follow them?”

  “I couldn’t see.” Walter looked toward the tree line where Brianna had driven. “But I would have if I were them.” He hoped his daughter and her best friend either shot the men who followed them or got away. “If they die because of this…”

  “Don’t think like that.”

  “I can’t help it.” Walter slammed his fist on the dash and opened up the passenger-side door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to help Ben. I can’t leave him all alone.”

  “You might as well shoot yourself in the head right now and be done with it.”

  Walter frowned. “I’m not sitting here waiting for them to chase us.”

  “I’m down to my last magazine. You?”

  “One full and one partial.”

  Larkin groaned and opened the door. “Just for the record, this is stupid.”

  Walter smiled. “Noted. I’ll tell Colt.” He stepped down from the cab of the U-Haul as the sound of an engine and tires slipping on snow stopped him. The F-150 careened into view, riddled with bullet holes and sliding all over the road. Ben sat behind the wheel, blood coating his face.

  Larkin honked the horn and Ben slowed the truck to a stop beside Walter. He collapsed against the steering wheel and Walter rushed to his side.

  The driver’s door was pocked with half a dozen holes and as Walter yanked it open, blood dripped off the floorboard and onto his shoe. He called out to Larkin. “He’s been shot. More than once.”

  “How many?”

  Walter grimaced. “Too many.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped up into the truck. “Help me get him back to Colt.”

  He grabbed the bigger man beneath the arm and dragged him out. Larkin hurried to help and together they pulled Ben Jacobson from the driver’s seat and down to the snow. Two holes punctured his ski jacket and blood coated his right leg.

  “Could be three or more.” Larkin’s tone was grim. “He’ll never make it.”

  “We have to try. Help me carry him.”

  They worked as a team, Walter carrying Ben’s upper body and Larkin his lower, all the way past the U-Haul to the rear door. Walter braced Ben’s body against his chest before banging on the roll-up door in a three-two-three pattern. He waited five seconds and cranked it open.

  The barrel of Colt’s Sig Sauer greeted him, followed by Colt’s anxious face. He paled when he saw Ben’s body. “Guess I don’t have to ask what happened.”

  “Snowmobiles. A lot of them. Don’t know how many are left.” Walter grunted and hoisted Ben higher. “Help us get him inside.”

  With Colt’s added strength, the three men lifted Ben into the back of the U-Haul and laid him out. Walter stepped back and wiped the blood off his hands. “I’ve got to get back out there.”

  “Let me go.” Colt stood and stepped around Ben. “I’ve been cooped up back here while you all have done the fighting.”

  Larkin nodded. “He’s right. They won’t be expecting him.”

  Walter hesitated. He wanted to be the one to find his daughter. “Madison and Brianna took off in the Jeep. They might have snowmobiles in pursuit.”

  “Why haven’t they followed us here?”

  “Too dry. Ben’s snowplow did a good enough job on the road. Back up the road where the forest begins, there’s plenty of room to off-road, but down here it’s too tight or the ground is too dry.”

  Colt nodded. “I’ll come at them from the side. Try and circle around and take out anyone who’s left.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Larkin looped his rifle over his shoulder and pulled out his handgun. “Together we should be able to flush them out.”

  Walter glanced at Ben. “I’ll see what I can do here.”

  Colt clapped him on the back. “If we don’t come back in an hour, assume the worst.”

  “You’re coming back.” Walter nodded at Larkin. “I need him to drive this tin can home.”

  Colt and Larkin hopped down and pulled the U-Haul door shut behind them. Walter turned his attention to Ben Jacobson. He crouched beside the large man and rested his hands on his thighs. “We’re going to fix you up and you’re going to pull through this and I don’t want to hear anything to the contrary.”

  Walter stood up and turned to face the boxes. He couldn’t just open up Ben’s jacket without supplies. He scanned the names, looking for anything familiar. After what seemed like forever, he found packets of QuikClot, gauze, and bandages.

  He wasn’t as good as Heather at dealing with gunshot wounds, but he could manage as long they weren’t too bad. Walter had kept Drew alive through their escape from Sacramento despite a bullet and no antibiotics. Saving Ben in the back of a U-Haul couldn’t be worse than that.

  After laying everything beside him, Walter leaned over and found the zipper to Ben’s jacket and pulled it down before pushing the thick down insulation aside. Blood coated Ben’s sweater, turning the light gray wool deep red.

  Walter pulled off his own jacket and pushed up his sleeves before tugging a small multitool from his pocket. He flicked open the knife and used it to cut away Ben’s sweater and shirt.

  Just as he’d feared, two bullet wounds marred Ben’s torso. One barely an inch in from his side and one through his upper shoulder. Walter hated to roll the man, but he had no choice. With gentle pressure, he rolled Ben first one way and then another before laying him back down in relief.

  Both bullets were through-and-through. Judging by the size of the exit wounds, he was looking at high-velocity military ammunition. M-4s excelled as long range weapons, but caused problems of collateral damage up close. An on-target round fired from a military rifle could take out the intended target and someone standing a ways behind.

  Walter grabbed a bottle of alcohol he found and poured a generous amount over both the entry and exit of the first wound. As the drying blood washed away, fresh blood oozed from the wound. He needed to stop the bleeding before Ben lost too much more or nothing he did afterward would matter.

  Walter reached for two QuikClot packs and ripped them open, positioning them on the wounds. Using the bandage, he wrapped Ben’s middle, holding the QuikClot in place before securing it with butterfly clips. It wouldn’t be permanent, but it might get him home alive.

  After the abdominal wound was secure, Walter repeated the steps with the shoulder wound, wrapping the clotting packs in the bandage and securing it tight. He leaned back on his heels and wiped at the sweat dripping down his nose before turning to Ben’s legs.

  Apart from some bruising developing across his thigh, Ben’s legs were fine. The blood covering his pant leg must have come from the abdominal through and through. Thank God for small favors. Walter cleaned up the mess as best he could and zipped Ben’s jacket back up to keep the man warm.

  He thought about what else he could do. An IV was out of the question in the U-Haul, as were any oral form of antibiotic or fluids. Until Larkin and Colt came back, there wasn’t anything to do but wait.

  After a quick drink of water, Walter eased up against the side of the U-Haul and reached for Ben’s hand.

  “Ben, can you hear me?” Walter checked for a pulse. Slow, but steady. “It’s Walter Sloane. You’ve been shot, but you’re going to be all right.” Walter waited for a response. When none came, he kept talking, mentioning Jenny and Ben’s kids and telling him how important it was that he pulled through. Halfway through a story about Lilly and a runaway chicken, Ben groaned.

  “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

  Walter smiled in relief. “Worse. You’ve been shot. Twice.”

  “You’re right. That is worse.” Ben tried to laugh but he grunted in pain instead. “How bad is it?”

  “If we can get you back to Heather, you should pull through.”

  “No, I mean the ambush. Are
we all that’s left?”

  Walter shook his head and explained what happened from his point of view.

  Ben moaned. “I never should have kept the medicine at the pharmacy. We should have moved it in small batches over the course of the summer.”

  “You did what you thought was best at the time.”

  “No I didn’t.” Ben coughed and reached for his side, but Walter caught his hand.

  “Careful.” He grabbed a bottle of water and a medicine cup and poured enough in for Ben to swallow a mouthful.

  “Thanks.” Ben took a few deep breaths before continuing. “I told everyone from the beginning that all we had to do was hold out for the government. Sooner or later FEMA or the military or someone would be coming. It was my way to keep everyone positive and keep it all together.” He coughed again. “It was stupid.”

  “We’ve all done things that in hindsight we wished we hadn’t done. When I think back to the EMP…” Walter shook his head. “I never should have gotten on that airplane. I should have stayed home and put my family first.”

  “You didn’t know what would happen.”

  Walter exhaled. Truth was, he’d been warned by the space weather reports and by his wife. He should have followed his gut then and every day thereafter. Right now, his gut told him Ben Jacobson could be more than an ally. He could be a friend.

  He squeezed the man’s hand. “Rest now. We’ll get you home soon.”

  Ben slipped off to sleep. A few minutes later, the U-Haul door creaked.

  Walter reached for his gun.

  Chapter Fifteen

  WALTER

  Northwoods Boulevard

  Truckee, CA

  6:00 p.m.

  The door to the U-Haul cranked open, revealing Colt’s stocky legs and grim expression. He dumped an armful of rifles and shotguns on the floor and spat on the ground. “All clear. We’re now the proud owners of five snowmobiles, four rifles, two shotguns, two revolvers, one Glock, and five dead bodies.”