When it'd been Erik's shift behind the wheel, he noticed the big vehicle constantly pulled to the right. As a result, he spent hours fighting the steering and when his shift was up, he collapsed into the passenger seat in an exhausted heap.
Brin had done likewise, yet somehow managed to have enough stamina and energy to look after the kids during the firefight as well.
"I'm starting to get the idea that we've got a big target painted on our asses," muttered Ted as he struggled with the steering wheel.
Erik grimaced at the sound of the transmission grinding while they traversed another pockmarked road outside Dunham, Georgia. It was the third town in the county where the road had been intentionally damaged to slow traffic. It was smart—that's what worried Erik. Someone was organizing the county, someone with brains.
He looked down at the map in his lap and fought the vibrations of the M-ATV to keep it steady. "No matter where we go, people swarm us," he muttered squinting in the dim light. "I don't understand it."
"I've seen it before, I just hoped to never see it stateside. Things have gotten so bad that when people see a military vehicle, they think relief is on the way. Remember the aftermath of Joyce? Same thing with Katrina—even as far back as Andrew. Desperate people see the military as offering hope, help, and safety." He shook his head. "This time, it couldn't be further from the truth. Anybody they’re seeing now are probably fleeing the Russians following the fall of Orlando."
"Then why the hell," Erik began a little too loud. He checked himself and glanced over his shoulder at Brin, hovering over the sleeping children. She shot him a warning look and turned back to the kids.
Erik lowered his voice. "Why the hell are they shooting at us?"
Ted shrugged one shoulder while he cursed under his breath. The big vehicle slammed into a rather large pothole. The M-ATV didn’t stop, but it slowed down considerably. "Problem is, when they realize you're not bringing food and water, they get pissed off. If they've got guns…" He sighed. "And when they realize the only soldiers they see are running away from the Russians…"
Erik rubbed his face, trying to wipe the fatigue out of his eyes. The constant jostling of the M-ATV threatened to make him expel his last meal all over the dashboard. "God, can't we just drive over one of those fields over there? Isn't this thing designed for off-road?"
"It is, and we can, but those are somebody's crops…" Ted observed. "We need to start looking for any food we can find in this next town—without fighting. Not trampling somebody's only source of food would be a good way to do it."
Erik bit off his reply and stared out the tiny window. He forced himself to think as he was jostled in his seat. He bounced against the door and cursed. This fucking thing is like a weight hanging around our neck now that we're clear of the Russians. He sat up straighter.
"What if we got rid of the matvee?"
Ted took his eyes off the road for a moment, "Get rid of it? Are you kidding me?"
Erik braced himself against the door as one of the M-ATV’s tires rolled into a deep crater. It felt like the top-heavy vehicle was about to roll. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the vehicle righted itself and climbed up out of the hole. Erik closed his eyes to fight the nausea.
"I'm just saying," he said tightly, "maybe people wouldn't shoot at us so much if we just had a regular truck or something, you know?"
"Yeah…maybe…" mused Ted. "But if they did shoot at us, we may as well be driving a cardboard box. My kids—all of us—are a lot safer in this thing."
Erik looked at Ted. "Yeah, but for how long? How long will it be before somebody gets enough people to block us and pry this thing open like a can of sardines? How long will it be before somebody is smart enough to do something to disable this thing?"
Ted sat in silence for a moment as they traversed a clear spot in the road. "You might be right…" he muttered. "This thing doesn't have the greatest gas mileage in the world, either…"
"A minivan would be a lot more comfortable for the children," said Brin quietly from the back.
Erik turned his head, hoping to catch a smile from her, but she’d already turned back to the children, gently stroking Teddy's forehead as he slept.
Erik sighed and sat back in his seat staring at the roof. "We can't go on like this much longer."
"I know," said Ted and Brin at the same time.
Erik closed his eyes. He needed alone time with Brin. He needed time to talk to her. He needed time away from the smell of unwashed bodies, the cries of the children, the close confines of the M-ATV. He needed open sky and the smell of trees and grass and dirt. He needed peace. He needed Brin.
I just wish there was a way I could get through to her.
He stared out the tiny window. His wife had changed so much since the Russians had taken them to that godforsaken prison camp. He clenched his fists. Whatever they did to her in that place…it made her angry at him. She flinched when he touched her—even by accident. She snapped at him. She didn't talk to him. It was like the Russians had already killed his wife.
Lost in his thoughts, Erik abruptly realized the M-ATV had rolled to a stop. He blinked and looked out the windshield. "What is it?" He asked, reaching for his M4 leaning against the dashboard.
Ted sat in silence for a moment. "You believe in coincidence?"
Erik wrinkled his brow. "Why?"
Ted didn't say anything, but he pointed out the grimy windshield. In the distance, at the far end of the next field, surrounded by tall Georgia pines sat a small car dealership.
Erik looked at Ted, who stared at the neat rows of new cars. He glanced over his shoulder at Brin. A half smile played on her lips. It warmed Erik's heart better than hot soup on a cold winter night.
"You ready to go shopping for a new car?"
Chapter 7
Shopping
"ANYTHING?"
ERIK SCANNED THROUGH the binoculars until his eyes watered. "Nothing. I see the main building—looks like fire damage…a couple of cars look pretty smashed up at the main entrance, only a few along the road look vandalized…” He lowered the binoculars and blinked. “Everything looks like it's been sitting untouched for the last six months."
"That's not surprising," replied Brin from the back. "Without electricity, there's been no operating gas stations. Without gas stations, what’s the point of having a new car?"
“Or any car…” added Erik.
"I don't see anything with these, either," said Ted, tapping the night vision goggles strapped to his forehead. "No movement, no light…no nothing."
"Well, should we go check it out?" asked Erik.
Ted removed his goggles. "We only have about a quarter tank left.” He looked up from the dash. "If nothing else, maybe we can find us some gas."
"Let's do it then," said Erik.
"Agreed," whispered Brin.
"Alrighty then, here we go…" said Ted. He shifted the big vehicle into drive and winced as the transmission groaned in protest. "We might not have much of a choice, anyway. She’s in sore need of some TLC."
The M-ATV crept forward. Dawn was just creeping over the tops of the pines on the back side of the dealership. Everything around them still lay in the dark shadows of twilight.
"If we do this quick, we might be able to get in and out before full daylight."
Erik glanced at Ted. "You really think so?"
Ted shrugged, pushing the M-ATV just a little faster. "The road's smoother here, we’ll be there in another minute or so. Just be ready."
Erik pulled his rifle to his lap and ejected the magazine. It was mostly full. He slammed it home then checked the straps on his vest. "I got one in the gun and two spare."
Ted eased the M-ATV up to the car dealership’s driveway and let the big vehicle coast to a stop. He methodically scanned the surroundings on both sides of their vehicle for movement. "Still looks quiet."
Erik snatched one of the hand-held radios off the charger they'd taped to the dashboard. He clipped one to his t
actical vest as he looked over his shoulder at Brin.
"I'll be on two."
She accepted the other radio from his hand, fiddling with the buttons without making eye contact.
Erik looked at Ted, who still peered out the armored window. "Particular color you like?"
Ted grinned, a strange sight with the night vision goggles back on his forehead. "You’re going to want something big so we can carry the remaining supplies and all of us."
"What about two?" asked Brin.
Ted thought for a moment. "That's a possibility, but it brings all kinds of complications with it. Two drivers means one less person to shoot back at bad guys. Two cars means more of a chance that we'll get split up…"
"Let me see what's out there first," said Erik. "If I can't find any gas it doesn't matter, anyway."
"I'll leave it running and be ready to light up the .50." Ted gripped Erik's shoulder. "Be quick, be quiet, stay low. If you see me turn the lights on, we're compromised—you need to get your ass back here, like fast."
Brin handed Erik his pack. "I put enough supplies in here for a few days in the woods.”
“Don't stick around on my account,” Erik replied. “If we run into another group like back at that strip mall, just clear on out of here." Erik cinched his vest tight. "I'll slip away into the woods and meet up with you. Five miles north?"
Ted thought for a moment staring out the window. "If we can get away fast enough, five miles might be good. Stay in touch. These radios only have a 20 mile range in the best terrain."
"Got it." Erik looked back at Brin. She stared at him and for a second he thought she was going to open her mouth and say something—at least that's what her eyes suggested. In the dim light, she looked ready to cry, scream, or even fight. Brin dropped her eyes to the floor and turned away.
Erik's heart sank. He sighed, took one last look outside, then opened the door and stepped out into the chilly dawn. Ted saw the exchange and shook his head.
"Good luck."
Erik flashed a thumbs-up sign and shut the door as quietly as possible. A deep breath settled his nerves and focused him on the task at hand. He took a quick glance around. Not seeing any movement, he scurried across the gravel driveway to a pair of cars blocking the way into the dealership. He crouched down behind the bumper of one of them—a crumpled Ford Escape—and checked the straps on his pack.
Erik marveled at the way the world and changed in the past six months. Halloween was only a week behind them. If things had stayed on track in his life—if the power had stayed on and the Russians hadn't invaded, he might have been a teacher by now.
I’d be looking ahead to Thanksgiving break.
A dog barked in the distance, the sound faint. A robin welcomed the dawn. Erik snapped back into the present and peered quickly around the corner like Ted taught him. No movement.
He shuffled around the ruined Escape and sprinted ten yards to the first line of parked vehicles. Sliding in the gravel to a stop with his back against the passenger side of a used Toyota 4Runner, he paused. Erik waited for the beating of his heart to slow back to normal. Still no movement. The only sound he heard came from the roughly idling M-ATV.
Damn that thing’s loud.
He held his breath and looked around. Still no movement. The place was empty. He pulled the radio off his vest and clicked the transmit button. "I don't see anything…this place is deserted."
“Make sure you clear the building."
Erik nodded at Ted's statement and put the radio back on his vest. He was three rows back from the main building, approaching from angle. No windows on his side meant he could approach with impunity. Erik gathered his courage and sprinted across the first row of cars, coming to a stop and hiding behind a Ford Expedition. He looked at the sheer size of the vehicle.
"This thing might work…" he muttered to himself. He took a quick glance inside the window and noticed three rows of seating.
If we drop that third row there might be enough space to store all our supplies back there. The kids and one adult can sit in the middle row and the rest up front.
Erik filed that thought away and sprinted across the gravel to the next row of cars. He stopped alongside a Ford F150. The truck had been fitted with a 4x4 lift kit. His legs felt exposed next to the jacked up truck. This thing would certainly get us through rough terrain…but there's not enough space for all of us. And our gear would be exposed.
Erik's radio broke squelch. "Still clear," advised Ted.
He clicked the transmit button twice and sprinted for the third and final row. He skidded to a stop next to a minivan that had been partially burned. He brushed his fingertips against the bubbled paint on the rear door. A quick glance towards the main building showed him why the cars in this row had been burned. The building, seemingly undamaged from the road, was mostly a shell.
He took a good look left and right. Seeing no movement, he ran across the open space and worked his way down the side of the dealership. He headed toward the rear, confident if anyone were inside waiting to spring a trap, they’d be toward the front where they could see the road.
Erik slipped around the back and his hopes fell. The whole back wall of the building had collapsed during a fire—charred rubble, bits of rebar, and debris spilled out into the service area behind the office.
The fire had gutted the building. He looked at the three blackened remains of showroom vehicles in the front. There wouldn't be anything useful to scavenge in there. He turned the corner and glanced inside, peering into the darkened interior.
"The building’s a total loss,” he reported. “A fire got started here a while ago—there's weeds and shit already growing in the showroom."
Erik's radio chirped. "Damn. See if you can find fuel storage tanks. Sometimes dealers have those…"
"On it," replied Erik. He clipped the radio back to his vest and brought his rifle up to his shoulder. He scooted along the exterior of the rubble pile at the rear of the building, keeping a wary eye out for movement. Erik crouched next to a black and white sign that he could barely read in the growing light.
Service Department
Gotta be getting close.
He peered out into the empty yard and spotted a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire around the rear end of the property. Several small structures sat tucked inside the chain-link fence. Bingo. He pulled the radio off his vest.
"Found something. Looks like a couple big tanks and an electrical shed. Everything looks untouched," he said quietly, eyes roving the dealership. "But we're gonna need a big set of bolt cutters to get through."
"Erik, get back here—there’s people in front of us. Four guys on foot. I think they're armed," said Brin.
Erik stared at the fuel depot. Damn. "Okay, I'm on my way."
Heart racing, he turned and sprinted around the corner of the building. As he approached the fire-damaged row of cars, headlights in the distance behind the M-ATV caught his eye. He ripped the radio off as he passed charred minivan and continued racing to the next row.
"Lights! On the road behind you—headlights!"
"Hurry!" Brin urged.
"You in the truck!" a voice called out over a loudspeaker.
The suddenness of the sound caused Erik to trip mid-stride. He fell painfully to the ground and skidded in the gravel on his chest, coming to a stop behind the first row vehicles in the parking lot. Cursing, he got to his knees. He reached for the radio and his hand came up empty. In a panic he spun around. The radio lay out in the open space between the rows of cars.
"Shit!" he hissed.
"I say again, you in the truck! Come on out! We got you surrounded!"
"Shit," Erik said again through clenched teeth. He gripped his rifle and looked around, hoping he wouldn't find someone sneaking up on him. The lot remained deserted save for him and the empty cars.
A squeal of brakes from the road brought his attention back to the M-ATV. A Hull County Sheriff’s Department cruiser had parked directly
behind the M-ATV, next to a beat-up red pickup full of armed men. As he watched, men spill out in a disorderly rabble and took up positions behind the vehicles in the road. He peered north. Armed men blocked the road.
"Shit."
Chapter 8
A New Nest
LIEUTENANT COMMANDER ELLIOT RIGGS banked his F-35C Lightning II and glanced down to starboard. The long ribbon of I-95 stretched onto the north and south hundreds of feet below. Hawk flight streaked over the front elements of General Stapleton's army in loose formation. They hadn't encountered so much as a bird once they left the immediate area surrounding the scuttled Roosevelt in the Upper Bay. Admiral Nella’s fighters owned the skies over New York.
"Hawk Lead, Two," Jonesy's voice crackled in his helmet speaker.
Riggs tore his eyes off the surreal sight of tanks, APCs, and Bradleys trundling down I-95. "Go ahead, Two."
"I got nothing from Zeus."
"Okay, Hawks, let's split up. You have your way-points. Keep an eye out and I'll meet you at ONAS."
After a round of acknowledgments, the rest of the squadron peeled off in pairs and spread the front over a few miles. Each 2-plane element would be just out of visual range of the next, making for a wide swath of visual coverage on their flight south.
Jonesy pulled his fighter in formation with Riggs. "Awful strange seeing all that hardware down there," he commented.
Riggs rolled his fighter again and looked at the column of tanks and armored vehicles. "Sure does." A column of eight-wheeled personnel carriers snaked its way along the interstate. "Whoa, you see that?" he asked. "That lead Stryker down there just plowed through three cars. That was intense!"
Riggs watched as the first two Strykers—which appeared to have snowplows or something attached to their noses—slammed into abandoned cars, clearing a path for the rest of the pack.
"Sure hope there's no one in those cars," muttered Jonesy.
Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) Page 5