by Jack Hunt
He stared at his police ID and thought back to Lake Placid, and to a time when life was good. Long before Elliot struggled with PTSD, long before he fucked up his relationship with Rayna and Jill. He took out a photo of her from when she was younger, when he’d fallen in love with her. There had been a time he would have done anything for her. It was strange how years and years of marriage could wear away at the fabric of their relationship, how it could turn the exciting into the mundane, and cause fights over the tiniest things. He shook his head and reached into Calvin’s pocket for the smokes. He just needed something to relax him. His nerves were on edge and his heart pounding at the thought of encountering more trouble. He pawed at his eyes. He was tired from carrying Calvin, and he knew if he stayed there for too long his legs would seize up and he wouldn’t want to keep moving, but he had to. He looked around at some of the vehicles nearby, parked alongside the road. If they could find an older one maybe he could hotwire it. It would shave off hours of travel and provide them with a small amount of protection. They couldn’t stay here. It was time to get moving. He lit the cigarette and took another swig of water, and gave some more to Calvin.
“Can I get a drag of that?”
He smiled and handed it to him. Calvin winced as he inhaled. “You’d think we could all live in harmony.”
“What world are you living in?” Gary said twisting the cap back on the canister and placing it back into the bag.
“We’re all in the same mess, right? If everyone worked together and instead of against each other we’d be able to get society back to some sense of stability within a year or two.”
Gary snorted. He took out a granola bar, unwrapped it and took a bite. The sugar would hit his system soon and he’d feel a burst of energy. It wouldn’t be much but it was better than nothing.
“You’re dreaming. I used to think that way,” Gary said. “It doesn’t work. At the core, we are all animals and as soon as we are robbed of electricity we revert back to that. Our fight-or-flight instincts kick in and the rest is history. Besides, think back to when the lights were on. Could humanity get along with each other then? No. We nitpick at each other; we project our issues onto others and if we can’t pick ourselves up we try to bring others down to our level. It’s the way of the world. Come to think of it, humans are worse than animals.”
“Shit, Gary, who burst your bubble?”
Gary got up and put the backpack on. “I just woke up to it. C’mon, we need to keep moving. I figure there has to be a house around here. If we can find one with some medical supplies, anything that I can use to treat the wound, I might be able to stop the bleeding. You’re still going to need treatment but it might just be enough until we reach FEMA tomorrow.”
He clasped Calvin’s hand and hauled him to his feet. He groaned in pain and shut his eyes as a hard wind blew grit up in their faces.
“You’re putting a lot of faith in the government.”
“They haven’t failed me yet,” Gary said wrapping his own arm around his waist and putting Calvin’s arm over his shoulder.
Calvin snorted. “Geesh, man, look around you. If you don’t see this as the government failing you, you are blind.”
“You think they wanted this?” Gary shot back as they continued on weaving their way around headstones. “Everyone wants to blame the government. We praise up the newly elected president, then the day they get in we tear them down. Fact is people just like stuff to bitch and complain about. If they don’t have something, they make shit up. It’s human nature. Yet if you abide by the law, pay your taxes and don’t act like an asshole, life can be pretty darn sweet.”
“You make it sound so easy. I don’t think that’s the same for everyone. Imagine if you’d been born in Iraq, or China or some third world country. You’re a product of your society; its beliefs and whatever it offered you. Not everyone gets the good life, Gary. You lucked out.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it. I worked damn hard to get where I was in life. I had a good home, a good wife, and…” he trailed off thinking about Jill again. Calvin must have picked up on it.
“Or is that what you tell yourself?”
Gary didn’t respond to that. It was true it was easy to buy into the idea that he had the perfect life but the reality was he was one loose thread away from the entire fabric of his life falling apart. The fact that Elliot had been so forgiving of his actions spoke volumes about him. It made him feel even worse for what he’d done but he didn’t know he was coming back, hell, he didn’t even know he was alive for a long time. The suicide rate for veterans with PTSD was high. He knew the odds of him returning were slim, that’s why he’d got involved with Rayna. He was attracted to her. She made him feel alive — even if she wasn’t his. And as for guilt? Yeah, he felt guilt every night he returned to Jill. But how many marriages had fallen apart that way? He knew of countless officers in the department that had ended up seeing someone else because they met a need that wasn’t being filled at home. Sure, he wasn’t proud of it and to be honest he hadn’t set out to get involved with Rayna. It just happened. One visit turned into two, three turned into five and before he knew it, he found himself falling for her. He’d come to realize that he enjoyed her company more than his own wife’s. He shook his head, feeling like a fool.
They made their way out of the graveyard and looked down the road. He listened for signs of trouble but there was nothing.
Experience however had taught him not to linger, not to believe that everything was as it seemed. Roving gangs didn’t just stick to prowling in the open; they would position themselves in spots that gave them a good view of the land. In all the times they’d entered towns, they had come to expect they were being watched. It was what kept them alert.
They moved on down the road with farmland to the right and forest to the left. There had to be a house nearby. Keeping one hand on his rifle and the other around Calvin, Gary slowly pressed on. He understood what Calvin meant about living in harmony and it was strange to think they now had to live in fear and distrust of everyone they met but that was the hand they’d been dealt.
Finally they made it to the mouth of a dirt road. There was a mailbox at the end with sparrows painted on it and a name: The Womacks. He made a beeline for the farmhouse at the end of the long trail with a sense of relief, if only to be able to put Calvin down and take a rest. Beads of sweat trickled down his face and back, and he just wanted to go and bathe in the river and put on some fresh clothes. His ribs were killing him. He was pretty sure he’d fractured one in the fall as every time he breathed it was painful.
With the evening ahead of them and the sun dipping below the horizon he was grateful to make it to the two-story home. There was an old beat-up truck outside, and off to the right of the clapboard home were a dilapidated red barn, a few sheds and a tall building for grain storage.
There didn’t appear to be anyone outside but that didn’t mean it was abandoned. His arms were killing him as he made it down the long driveway and up the steps onto the front porch. He beat against the storm door window a few times with his rifle and called out.
“Anyone home? Hello!”
He repeated it again then set Calvin down on the pine wood porch and tried the door. It was locked. He reared back the butt of his rifle and smashed the glass, reached inside and unlocked. Once they got in he was pleased to find that it looked clean. It was as if someone had been there and taken care of it. Calvin rested on the couch while he went into the kitchen to see what food he could find. They had enough in their backpacks for the night but he wanted to keep that just in case they had to leave in a hurry. Gary opened the cupboard doors and pantry and pulled out some old boxes of cereal. They were already open. He fished into them and shoveled away the dry substance, wishing he had a bowl of milk. He gazed around the kitchen and saw that the table was set for four people. Placemats, cutlery, plates and glasses were all laid out, and in the center was a vase full of fresh flowers. That got his attention. It me
ant someone was living here. He set the cereal box down and put his finger on the trigger of his AR-15 and began clearing each room starting with the main floor and basement.
“You okay?” he asked Calvin as he passed him before heading up the staircase. “I’m going up.” Calvin coughed a few times and closed his eyes. It creaked with every step he took. At the top he used the barrel of his gun to push open doors. His heart was hammering in his chest just waiting for someone to jump out.
Outside the wind was picking up pushing the branches of a large oak tree up against the window. It startled him and he pointed the gun at the window. Stay calm. Stay calm, he told himself.
He made his way into a master bedroom and noticed the bed looked as if it had been slept in. The drapes were closed and so was the closet. It put his nerves on edge as he approached and pulled the drapes open. The faint remainder of daylight shone in giving him enough light to check the closet. He pulled the door open and backed up fully expecting to encounter someone. But there was no one. Relieved that the home was empty he went to head down when a framed photo caught his eye. He scooped it up and looked at the image of a family, three guys, a father and a mother. That was when he recognized two of the younger men. They were the same ones that had attacked them in the woods. Holy shit. He backed up and started calling to Calvin. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
He jogged down the steps and came around the corner just in time to find a large man looming over Calvin with a shotgun in his hand.
“But you’ve only just arrived,” the man said with a faint flicker of a grin.
Chapter 14
Mack started bellowing orders the moment he returned to camp. They had to prepare. In many ways he admired what Elliot was doing. It made sense. Picking them off one at a time would only get them so far, eventually they would stop coming out of the compound. Attacking them would have been a suicide mission but drawing them out with the hope of luring them into a trap could work. He’d have to make it work.
“Anyone seen Calvin?”
No one responded then Clive made his way over.
“He still hasn’t returned. He left with Gary heading for the FEMA camp.”
“Impossible. Calvin wouldn’t leave without my approval.”
Clive shrugged.
“When did he leave?”
“A long while ago. They’ll be miles from here by now.”
Mack blew out his cheeks and turned to Morgan. “Gather everyone together, I need to let them know what’s coming down the line. I hope to God we are ready.” He nodded and started calling everyone.
“Brent, take Ray and Tatum with you and collect the rifles we buried, and the ammo, along with the rest of the weapons and camouflage. We’re going to need everything we have.”
Morgan rallied everyone together in the clearing that he often used to discuss difficult decisions they had to make as a community. He scanned the faces of those he’d come to know as family. They all had a story, a reason why they were there. Society had given up on them, some had lost parents, and others were the victims of Shelby and his crew. It was a mixed bag of young and old but all of them were trained to fight and fight they would have to.
Mack stood up on a bench in the middle of the circle and raised his voice.
“I told you that a day would come when we would have to fight for our lives. This is the day. If all goes to plan, Shelby and his group will be heading this way in the next twenty-four to seventy-two hours.”
Murmurs spread throughout the camp.
“I know. I know what I said. But we have no choice. This is just the way it has to play out. Now I don’t expect all of you to stay or choose to fight and I will respect your decision if you choose to leave but I’m going to lay it out for you. I’ve never demanded anything, and you are all here of our own volition but I am asking you today to stand with me, stand with us and fight. This isn’t just about freedom, or righting the wrongs that have been committed against our families, it’s about our survival. It’s about the way forward from here. Now I won’t lie to you, many of us here will not make it. Blood will be shed on both sides but when it’s over, God willing, those that remain won’t have to fear attacks by Shelby again.”
He shifted his gaze across the crowd.
“If you have any questions. Now is the time to ask.”
Hands went up all over the place and he began answering them. Most were about simple things like what they should do with the kids and the elderly and how to protect what they had in terms of food, water and ammunition. Then came the questions about strategy.
“What’s the plan?” Clive asked.
“There are eighty-seven of us. Not everyone can hold a gun and fight, I understand that, but everyone can help even if it’s just watching over the young and elderly. Twenty-five of us are going to be within spitting distance of the compound in preparation for a second wave of attacks while the bulk of Shelby’s men head our way. They’ll take out the guards on the walls, while the rest of you will move into position at the two-mile radius from the camp. We know this forest like the back of our hands. We already have traps set up on the ground but we will add more. Our goal is to create as much damage as possible before they realize where we are. No one is to be spared. No one.”
“And what about Elliot and Rayna? They’ll be among them. They won’t know about the traps.”
“Like I said. No one is to be spared.”
Brent looked at Mack and frowned. He knew he was going to have to answer questions from those closest to him but in order for this to work, sacrifices needed to be made. Elliot knew that when he went in.
Mack continued to field questions for the better part of half an hour until everyone was given their instructions on where to go, and what to do. The crowd thinned out and he led Brent, Morgan, Tatum and Ray away. The very second he had them inside a hut Brent unleashed on him.
“You can’t do that, Mack.”
“Can’t I? You heard Elliot. It was his way or the highway. I gave him an option and that was to pick off Shelby’s men but he chose to head into that compound and there wasn’t a damn thing I could have done about it. Now the way I see it, he’s made his bed and he has to lie in it. Our job is not to save him, our job is to kill Shelby and put an end to this.”
“But...” Tatum spoke up.
“No buts,” Mack replied. “It was his men that killed your wife, Tatum.” He turned to Ray. “And your child, Ray.” He didn’t even need to explain to Morgan and Brent, they’d all lost loved ones in the original attack. It was why all of them were still with him and hadn’t gone their own ways. They knew the risk involved was nothing compared to the weight of guilt if they walked away.
“So that speech out there?” Brent asked.
“That was for them. We are doing this for us.” He stared blankly at them. “If there was any other way around this I would take it but Elliot made his decision.”
After he answered a few more of their questions they headed out to prepare the traps. In order to ensure that Shelby’s men would walk into certain traps they would block off areas of the forest with thick branches, foliage and thorny bushes. There were a number of traps they would utilize. Some of them had already been set up ahead of time as a means of protecting the camp. Paint sprayed on certain trees indicated to them where they were so their own people could avoid them. Trip traps were some of the easiest ones to create, and when implemented right they could be used to alert them to the presence of intruders, fire a lethal round at whoever was approaching, or through the use of a counterweight send an attacker soaring into the trees. The next was what was called a frag in a can. Similar to the trip trap, it could be rigged up to have a tripwire pull a safety pin and cause ammunition to go off.
One of the most common traps they had already installed was called a Punji pit. It was a hole in the ground filled with barbed stakes to impale anyone approaching. They’d already used these successfully to prevent three attacks on their camp in the last f
ive months.
Then there were fishhooks; easy to implement from high up, and simple to camouflage. Hang down a few of those covered in human feces, and not only could they create a nasty accident at eye level, but a resulting infection could lead to death. The screams of those getting caught in fishhooks were also a great way to alert them to trouble approaching. Another way was using cans filled with rocks rigged up to a line.
And finally, a deadly but easy way to inflict damage and cause a group to panic was the use of cartridge traps. Mack was fond of these and had already seen one cause gnarly damage to a guy’s foot. In order for it to work it required creating a small hole in the ground, big enough for a human foot, and then placing a bullet inside a wooden or bamboo holder with a nail or firing pin below it. The whole thing would rest on a wooden board. The top would be covered over with camouflage. As soon as an intruder’s foot dropped into the hole and landed on top of the cartridge, the pressure would push the cartridge down onto the nail and fire through the foot. While not easy to set up, if done right it was quite effective. They had a number of these positioned around the perimeter.
Mack stepped onto the walkway high up in the trees and rested his hands on the wooden frame. Below everyone was going about their duties, hurrying back and forth and working together to prepare for the worst. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. He knew not everyone would live including himself but he was fine with that. He’d already made his peace with God and was ready to go home to his wife and child.