by JT Sawyer
Jody looked at Runa, who had moved up beside Jason, then she continued talking. “We’ve been on the road for almost twenty-four hours and in all the towns we’ve been through there hasn’t been anyone alive.” She waved her hand in the air. “It’s just us, you guys. We’re it. And if you don’t look out for each other and give a shit about the person beside you then what’s the point in even putting up a fight against those creatures?” She thrust her finger at the ground then out to her right. “The battlefield isn’t here, it’s out there, and we have to pull together if we’re going to make it.”
Jody let out a long exhale then put her hands on her hips. “Now, if Mark is finished with the Bronco, we need to be on our way. Runa identified a good chokepoint, as he called it, in the next town, where we can look for supplies and get some antibiotics for Valerie, who, despite all your arguing, is still asleep in back.”
The three teens began helping Mark clean up the wrenches resting along the edge of the engine as Jody and Runa returned to the tailgate.
“That was a helluva speech,” said Runa.
“Teachers are one-third social worker and the other third motivational coaches. Anyone who says differently is full of it.”
“Well, you sure got their attention and gave them something to think about, especially Mark, who’s the brash lone wolf of the bunch.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it takes one to spot one.” Runa folded the map and put it in the front pocket of his down jacket. He grabbed his AR on the tailgate and then looked over at Jody. “Now, I just hope the brief session I did earlier on weapon handling and shooting tactics was sufficient. I’m going to need everyone up to speed on how to handle themselves in a fight while not drilling any holes through the rest of us.” Runa had given everyone a brief overview on the AR platform of rifles, including how to efficiently load a fresh magazine while moving, bounding tactics for group cover, and simple marksmanship methods using dry-fire practice. He knew a 90-minute exercise was hardly enough to instill good habits, but it would make them safer in battle and hopefully prevent another episode of catastrophic friendly fire like he experienced at the farmhouse.
Jody glanced down at the .38 revolver on her hip as if it was an odd new appendage. “I trained to be a teacher—to help others, not to kill them. This is going to take some getting used to—for me and for those kids.”
“You’re a sheepdog, like me, watching over your herd. When the time comes, you’d be surprised at the things you can do that seemed beyond the reach of a civilized person.”
She closed the tailgate and gave him a frown. “I’d never call you a sheepdog, Jonas. A wolf or cougar, maybe, but never a sheepdog.”
***
An hour later, they were spread out in a row of shrubs on the outskirts of the tiny town of Yale, overlooking the cluster of stores along Main Street.
“I’ve got three Tangos milling around the cafe,” said Runa, who was hiding in the woods with Jason and Mark, thirty yards from the building. He spoke into an ear-mic whose wire snaked down the back of his down jacket to a small radio positioned in his left pocket. Runa had acquired several two-way radios at a sporting goods store near Sedley on the drive south, and it was the first time they could split up into two recon groups while keeping in touch. Runa reminded the rest of the group that the radios were only good for short line-of-sight distances and were not secure, so anyone else listening in could hear their conversation. And he hoped that others would be listening—the drive south in the old Bronco had been eerily silent, with each small town devoid of the living.
Under normal conditions, the drive should have only taken a few hours, but each new intersection and town meant a potential ambush site for the creatures, and Runa was in no hurry to expose them to a battle on the run.
“When do you think she’ll wake up?” said Mark, who was looking back at the Bronco, where Valerie was asleep.
“She lost a lot of blood when she showed up at Will’s place,” said Runa. “Gonna be a while before she’s back on her feet.”
He heard the voice of Jody coming through his earpiece. “I’ve got four Tangos by the pharmacy but no sign of any Bravos. They’re just hanging around, pacing by the back door.” Runa had schooled them in the terminology for referring to their new enemies, based upon whether they were slow- or fast-moving. Now, they were putting their hastily acquired team tactics to their first test, trying to sneak inside the pharmacy to obtain medicine for Valerie.
“Isn’t this the town you heard about on the Ham radio yesterday?” said Jason. “It sounded like there were a bunch of survivors here.”
Runa nodded, not taking his rifle scope off the lead creature in the distance. “That’s right. But they must be somewhere in the countryside holed up in a house.”
“How do you figure that?” muttered Mark with a scrutinizing look.
“If you weren’t so busy checking yourself out with that rifle in every window reflection we pass, you would’ve noticed that there aren’t any fresh tracks on the ground around town.”
“What do you mean ‘tracks’—there’s concrete everywhere. How would there be any tracks to see?”
He thrust his chin out to a line of vehicles parked along the nearby curb. “Because it rained yesterday morning, if you remember, and there isn’t any mud on a single vehicle on the streets, meaning they’ve all been sitting here for a while. Plus, there’s a thick layer of leaves built up around the entrances of all these stores. Nobody’s come and gone since this virus hit, I bet.”
Mark raised his eyebrows. “Pretty neat trick.”
“It’s called situational awareness—something that’s kept me alive for many years. You’d do well to develop it instead of always checking out Megan’s ass or glancing down at your biceps.”
“Shit, I can get any—” Before Mark could finish, Runa raised his hand for them to be silent. He thought he heard a shuffling noise to his right but then realized it was the tailgate of the Bronco opening as Valerie began climbing out. Her ashen face held a bewildered expression and her eyes were darting along the ground.
“Go grab her before she makes any noise,” whispered Runa.
Jason slung his rifle and wove through the brush as the woman staggered down off the rear bumper and crunched down on a dead branch. The cracking sound filled the crisp morning air, driving the creatures’ attention towards the pharmacy, close to the concealed Bronco.
“We’re about to have company,” he said into his mic. “I’ll handle these four. Jody and Megan, you take care of the other two. If we can get the drop on all of them at about the same time, it might prevent them from alerting more of their pals at the other end of town.”
He squatted down, resting his AR on a fallen log. Mark moved into position next to him and mimicked his movement. “Just sit tight—I’ve got ’em.” Runa shot Mark a glare before the teenager could mutter a defiant remark. The young man let out a sigh then slung his rifle.
“When do I get to kill one of those things? I used to go rabbit hunting when I was little.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry, kid. The time will come soon enough when you’ll wish you weren’t so intimate with your rifle.”
Runa refocused his attention on the first creature on the left. It was dressed in firefighter garb and the single round splintered apart the yellow helmet, followed by a pink mist that showered the grass. In quick succession, Runa dispatched the individuals with precise headshots in mere seconds. He heard the rifle discharge of Jody and Megan’s weapons a hundred yards to his right, but only saw splinters of brick from the buildings in the distance fly up in the air. He knew they had both missed their targets, and the two creatures were now heading in the direction of the two women. Runa heard Jody curse in his earpiece, followed by another volley of rounds, most of which hit the chests of the lumbering creatures, causing them to stagger momentarily.
He realized it was a stretch to expect them to make clean headshots from eighty yard
s out with their scoped rifles, given their lack of experience. He silently scolded himself for overestimating their abilities. Runa crouched and aimed his rifle at the farthest drone and punched two rounds into the side of its head. Focusing his sights on the second creature, which was dressed in a red nightgown, he was preparing to shoot when he saw the head and neck splinter apart from numerous rounds, while some tore open the bark of a nearby maple tree.
He looked over to the bushes at Jody and Megan, who were vigorously nodding their heads in approval while their faces revealed a disconcerted look as they stared at the bullet-riddled corpses of what were once human beings.
Well, it wasn’t exactly surgical shooting but they got it done, thank God.
Mark moved closer, his head scanning the grass ahead where the dead bodies were strewn out. “Holy shit—guess that skill must have kept you alive all these years too.”
Runa didn’t say anything as he stood up. He did a quick scan of the streets and adjoining buildings then studied the interior of the pharmacy through its large glass windows. He clicked on his ear-mic to signal Jody. “Clear. Now, proceed inside and retrieve all the critical meds you can get your hands on.”
He looked back and could see Jason sitting beside Valerie, who was getting an earful about their situation and how she ended up miles from where they found her.
Runa tapped Mark on the arm. “Stay here and keep an eye on the town square in case there are any more hostiles. After Jody and Megan return, we’ll head up the hill to that house we saw and hole up there for the night.”
“Where are you going?”
Runa shook his head in irritation. This kid’s gonna have to learn to shut up. He wasn’t used to having a subordinate constantly questioning his every move. “Just watch, alright.” Runa trotted along the sidewalk until he reached a police car parked at an odd angle in the center of the street. He opened the side door and found the keys still in the ignition. Runa pulled the scarf from around his neck and tied it to the steering wheel and then to a bar underneath the seat. He started the engine and turned on the sirens, then put the car in drive. Hopping out, he watched it slowly coast down the street a half-mile before crashing into a shoe store. He hoped this would buy them some time.
***
Jody and Megan entered through the rear exit of the pharmacy, weaving their way through the aisles until they reached the prescription medications behind the main counter. The store seemed untouched, with most of the shelves fully stocked. “People must have left here in a hurry,” whispered Megan.
“But where did they all go? This is just like all the other small towns we’ve driven through.”
“Maybe they headed south to that base in Florida Runa told us about—you know, drove out in convoys or something.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Jody tried to sound convincing rather than openly acknowledging her worst fears about everyone becoming infected, their bodies ravaged by the parasitic virus as they were absorbed into the legions of mindless drones. It was the only thing that would explain the mass exodus from the towns and the relatively unscathed stores they’d encountered.
Reaching the dispensary, she began rummaging through the shelves for antibiotics, sedatives, painkillers, and anything else that could be of use. She didn’t bother deciphering labels. If it looked like it could be of use, it was thrown in her empty backpack. Once they had enough, both women retraced their steps through the middle aisle towards the exit.
Megan stopped when they got to the candy bars. “Shouldn’t we load up on some of this—I mean, for the others, of course.” She had a faint smile creeping out from her cracked lips. It was the first time in a week Jody had seen the young woman with anything other than a look of despair.
Jody grinned then tore open a Snickers bar. “I agree, but maybe we should sample a few first, just to make sure nothing went bad.”
They laughed and began stuffing their pockets with Skittles, Kit-Kats, Twinkies, and Heath bars while stopping to consume a few bites as they pillaged the racks. As she came to the end of the aisle, Jody stopped in mid-stride as she looked at a row of greeting cards which showed a family of four watching the sunset in the mountains. She thought of her boyfriend, Lee, who died last week. He was a science teacher at the high school where they both taught, and was one of the first to get killed by three infected students. They had been dating for over a year and were planning on going to Hawaii over Christmas break, where she was sure he was going to propose. Jody felt like a jagged stake was being twisted in her chest as she contemplated the future that had been stolen from her. She glanced down at the card rack, her eyes swelling further with tears when she saw the heading for A Special Brother. She gulped, choking down an exasperated breath. Where are you, Will? You promised you would come back.
Jody looked out the front window at the gray sky above, recalling the faces of the two men in her life she cared about the most, one of them dead and the other’s fate unknown. She just wanted the pain to stop—the pain of continual loss and daily uncertainty. How many more of us are going to die in this world? She thought of her brother’s words from several years back when he was going through a difficult time in his life: If you are finding it hard to live for yourself then you must find a reason to live for others and to help them. That is the only way to prevent the pain from consuming you until it can dissipate from your soul. Jody didn’t know what her brother was coping with at the time—he was always so withdrawn when he was hurt—but now she knew it must have been something connected with his work—some unimaginable loss.
She looked over at Megan, whose girlish grin was still evident as she rummaged through the sweets, and she knew that her job was to keep these kids alive—to give them a chance at something better. Jody thought of her brother’s words, wishing he was here so she could hug him. You keep fighting, Will—wherever you are. And you better come find me when this is over.
Chapter 13
There was an odd aroma of spruce needles and sweat permeating the air when Reisner awoke. Prying his eyes open, he looked up at the rafters of an overhang jutting out from a small cabin. His head was pounding, the pressure on his temples only slightly lessened from what it had been before he collapsed. As he sat up, he felt a restraint on his wrist and saw that a handcuff was securing him to an upright beam beside the porch steps.
He glanced around his body for any injuries, but only noticed his weapons were missing. Where the hell is everyone else? His eyes shot out to the treeline, but, except for the annoying chatter of a red squirrel in the distance, the place was silent. He looked around the porch and saw a loose nail sticking up from the trim behind a rocking chair. He leaned over and retrieved the tiny nail, noticing a set of muddy bootprints leading off to the right.
“Looking for your pistol so you can put a round between my eyes?” said a gravelly voice behind him.
Reisner pivoted into a squatting position. Standing near the corner of the cabin was a rail-thin man in his fifties. His sunken cheeks and baggy eyes made him look like someone twenty years older, but there was no mistaking the piercing blue eyes of Andre Pacelle.
“Not my style, actually,” said Reisner. “I prefer the close range that a blade affords.” He sat back, pressing the tip of the nail down on the chainlink of the handcuff to bend the tip.
Pacelle let out a bronchial laugh. “Sounds about right from what I remember of you, William. You always were a bit of a brute when it came to dispatching justice for the Agency. Is that what this is about—you and your team coming to tie up some of Siegel’s loose ends—or is this more personal for you?” He sat on a wicker chair just out of reach of Reisner. “Just one last hit during the apocalypse and then you can hang it all up.”
“For what it’s worth, Siegel’s gone—so is the rest of the Agency from what I can tell.” He swiveled to the right slightly to keep his hand out of sight from Pacelle as he began working the cuff’s lock with the diminutive nail.
“So, this is personal then?” He stared
ahead into the forest. “The rest of your team should be waking soon. Their restraints are a little more elaborate than yours though. The little sonic alarm system I have in place around my property only renders a person unconscious for an hour or so. Or if you’ve got a Neanderthal skull like yours, then a little less than that.”
“If I’d wanted you dead, you’d have been in my sights long ago, after Belarus.”
“Yet you put off avenging Mira’s death all these years—why?” He leaned forward, removing a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.
Reisner scowled and tried to yank his restraint free. “Don’t mention her name again. She died that day because of you, and if I wasn’t here on official business then I would have had the Navy send a Tomahawk missile to this location.”
He removed a cigarette and took out an orange lighter from his jeans to ignite it. “Again, not your style.”
Reisner nodded his head back to the treeline. “Neat parlor trick keeping the creatures at bay. Is that what you used on us?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t have to use it on you. It’s a low-frequency audio deterrent set up around my property to keep out unwanted visitors and feral dogs—or in your case, both.” He waved his hand up to the trees. “First time I’ve ever seen it affect the creatures, but then they’ve never really had a reason to venture all the way out here.” He waved his hand up in the air. “Pretty remote, so not too many neighbors around, which is how I like it.”
“Whatever our differences in the past and however little my regard for your life, I’m only here to enlist your help. A few days after the pandemic struck, the Chinese launched a cyber-attack against the power grid on the East Coast, shutting everything down from Atlanta to Cape Cod. We think they’re just getting started. In a week, there might not be a country left to defend, between the creatures and the lights going out permanently.”