by Hunt, Jack
How many more would lose their lives before this was over?
Seeing that the ladies weren’t awake yet, he opted to strip and bathe in the stream. He couldn’t bear another hour enduring his body odor. He stank like a working horse. Naked, and exposed, he ventured out into the ankle deep-water that was flowing clear and steady. Tiny pebbles dug into his bare feet as Gunnar scooped up handfuls of liquid and splashed it down his arms, looking around all the while, still not comfortable with being out in the open. He hadn’t been out there more than a minute or two when he heard someone clear their throat. Immediately grabbing his junk, he turned to see Arianna standing on the bank, a smirk on her face.
“Oh don’t mind me. Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said, beginning to undo her shirt.
“You’re coming in?”
“Well, you’re not the only one that stinks like manure.”
Standing there grasping his nuts with both hands, he looked beyond Arianna.
“Oh, don’t worry, she’s snoring up a storm. I figured I’d let her sleep.” She continued to remove her clothes until she was stark naked. Gunnar swallowed hard. He hadn’t seen her that way in a long time. All that flesh, those curves. He had to say she still looked as good as she did back then. Arianna ambled slowly out into the crystal water, humming quietly like a siren from a Greek myth. Although it was cold, he could feel his body responding, changing quickly. No, no, not right now, down, boy, he told himself under his breath, turning away. The last thing he wanted was for her to know that she still turned him on. Arianna sidled up beside him. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it.” She glanced over.
He coughed, still clutching his junk. “I guess.”
Gunnar quickly turned and waded back to dry land. “Well, that’s me done.”
Arianna let out a chuckle as he hurried to get back into clothes. He glanced at her one final time before making his way into camp. That ass of hers was dynamite. His heart was pounding as he returned to find Brooke stirring. She stretched out her arms and yawned. “What time is it?”
“A little after seven.”
“We have anything to eat?”
“No, but I’ll see what I can wrestle up,” he said, snatching up his rifle and heading off into the brush to see if he could nab a rabbit or two. They still had a long trek ahead of them so they would need some protein to sustain them. Gunnar didn’t venture too far from the camp after last night’s run-in. There was no telling who was using this forest as their home. As he scanned the tall brush for eastern cottontails or a rare black-tailed jackrabbit, his mind wandered, circling between Miles and the days and weeks after the bombs first hit America.
The breakdown of society didn’t happen overnight. Many rallied together in the community and followed the laws as restrictions were placed on supplies being sold.
Within a matter of weeks as news flooded the Midwest of Chinese troops on the ground, fear took hold, chaos followed as some in the community declared their rights, their right to food, their right to take more. Those early days were brutal. While others gathered essential items, he already had much of that in stock. His time was spent ensuring that when the shit really hit the fan and people came knocking, that his cabin was protected.
Gunnar stooped in the brush and waited, not making a sound, his eyes searching for even the slightest movement. He must have sat there for close to fifteen minutes before a cottontail bounced into view, its ears perky, its eyes searching for threats as it nibbled grass.
Slowly he lifted his gun and got the ball of fur in his crosshair.
A second later, it was down and he trudged through the grass to collect it. He hooked it onto his belt and searched for some more. There was no telling what the day would bring but at least their bellies would be full.
Twenty minutes later he bagged a second before returning to camp.
Arianna and Brooke had gotten the fire going and were sitting around it warming their hands. “Oh beauty,” Arianna said, rising to help. “You want a hand skinning and gutting them?”
“No, I’m good. You relax.”
While they continued to talk, he laid the rabbits down and used his Bowie knife to take the feet off at the knees, then he removed the tail and did the same with the head. Next, it was a simple case of making a horizontal incision from the belly to the neck and pulling the skin away to remove the fur. It was like removing a jacket. It certainly wasn’t for the squeamish. He took the bodies and cleaned them in the river before gutting the first rabbit. A quick slice across the belly, avoiding the intestines, and he was able to pull out the guts and check the liver, a part that was excellent for eating if it wasn’t diseased.
It was at this point he cursed loudly.
“You got to be kidding.”
“What’s the matter?” Brooke asked.
He didn’t respond but checked the next. He groaned and tossed the meat. “Great.”
“What?” she asked again.
Arianna responded; she already knew.
“Tularemia,” she said. “The rabbit is diseased.”
Gunnar nodded and brought over the liver of one of the rabbits to show Brooke. “You see these.” He pointed to numerous white lesions roughly the size of pinheads. “You ever come across that while gutting a rabbit, toss it, it’s not good.”
“What is tularemia?”
“For us, it’s an empty stomach,” Gunnar replied, throwing the liver and kicking some loose rocks in frustration. He headed off to dispose of the rest of the meat. Arianna filled her in on the specifics.
“Rabbit fever, tularemia, it’s also referred to as meat cutters disease, Ohara’s or Francis’ disease. It comes from a bacteria. A lot of rabbits and rodents get it. It’s often seen as white or yellow spotted liver. It also shows up as a spleen that is dark bluish-red and swollen. It’s said to come from ticks or deer fly.”
“But can’t you just discard the liver and eat the rest? Or can’t it be killed with heat?”
“You can eat it, sure, but be prepared for rashes, painful lymph nodes, sore throat, mouth ulcers, diarrhea, you name it. There is a long list of issues that can arise. If the liver is bright and has no spots but it still has tularemia, then as long as you cook the meat through at like 160 degrees you should be okay, but again it’s a risk.” She looked over at Gunnar as he strolled off.
“Wash your hands good.”
He glanced back and shook his head. She sounded like his mother. He should have worn gloves but he’d lost his pair weeks ago. Often rabbits that had it were easy to spot as they usually looked abnormal or appeared lazy but that wasn’t the case with those two. He could have gone out and bagged a few more but time was ticking and they needed to get moving. They’d have to endure a few grumbles in their stomach that morning.
After an unsuccessful breakfast, they gathered what little they had and hiked out.
It took just over an hour and thirty minutes to reach the outskirts of the farm in Eugene. Although hungry and tired they were in good spirits when they emerged from the tree line and hopped over a fence that divided them from the final stretch.
That was until they saw a cloud of black smoke rising from the farm.
“No,” Arianna said, her heart sinking.
The farm just south of Tunnel Street amounted to one two-story home, a huge red barn, and two smaller outbuildings that were spread throughout acres of land. All of the structures were up in flames, a column of black smoke spiraled from each.
Gunnar took his binoculars out of his backpack and peered through. There was zero activity and bodies everywhere. The place had come under attack. Someone must have turned coat and given the PLA information on the whereabouts of the resistance.
It was a punch to the gut, a setback that he wished wasn’t true but it was.
Arianna flung down her backpack and kicked the fence, then pulled at it as if trying to pull it out of the ground. “We manage to get ahead and this happens. Damn it!” she bellowed.
“Keep your v
oice down,” Gunnar said, remaining crouched as he scanned the surrounding trees and roads. On one hand, there was no point heading over there but on the other, there could be valuable ammo they could use. He was down several magazines and could use a few more. While the PLA often took guns with them, there had been times they’d left stuff behind. “Look, I want you to stay here. I’m going over.”
“Why?”
“Ammo of course.”
“For what? A war we can’t win!”
“This isn’t about winning a war right now, Arianna,” he said, rising to his feet. “It’s about staying alive.”
“Why?” He frowned but before he could respond she continued her tirade. “Where has any of this gotten us? We are hunted like animals. We might as well live in their pens, at least there we might get three meals a day.”
“You sound like Morgan Jefferies.”
“Yeah, well, maybe he’s right.” She kicked at the earth. Brooke looked on without saying anything as Arianna sank down into a cross-legged position, her head hanging low. Gunnar didn’t know what to say. What did you say to anyone in this madness? Keep your chin up? There are better days ahead? He didn’t know that. No one knew that. He’d seen people commit suicide, no longer able to continue on, but that was often out of grief, after having lost loved ones, but not someone that was supposed to be a leader.
“You need to be strong,” he said.
“Oh please. Enough with your platitudes. It might work with Miles but not me.”
Gunnar ran a hand over his head. “Whatever. Just stay here. I’ll be back soon.” He handed the binoculars to Brooke. “Keep your eyes peeled. If the PLA shows up when I’m there, get out of here.”
“And go where?” Arianna asked, lifting her eyes. She looked pitiful, certainly a far cry from the woman he’d seen commanding militia. Everyone had their breaking point, had she reached hers?
“Just stay here.” With that said he headed off, running at a crouch toward the burning farm.
Less than five minutes later, rifle at the ready, Gunnar arrived, raking his gun as he slowed his pace and took in the sight of the massacre. It was awful. He immediately recognized the faces. Women, men, teens, even kids that were under ten had been gunned down without mercy. He stooped to check for ammo and filled his pockets with several magazines, the rest would go in his backpack.
Thick smoke mixed with the smell of burning flesh spread throughout the farm as he approached the barn that had been all but burned to the ground. There was no door to open, just charred wood everywhere. The only structure that had fared well was the home and that was because it was made of red brick, it was strong, and hadn’t gone up like the wooden buildings.
As he got closer, he slowed, looking at a symbol on the side of the house.
“Bastards.”
This was retaliation for what he and Miles had accomplished.
They’d taken the symbol Miles used and sprayed it all over the side of the house, multiple times, almost as if they wanted people to believe that he’d done this. How many other places would they do this? They were trying to undermine them, turn the tide, get the American people to believe that the person that had come to their aid wasn’t their friend, their neighbor, or a hero, but a cold-blooded killer.
Gunnar entered the house, jaw clenched. He brought up a bandanna to his mouth and nose to try and block the toxic fumes. Inside the kitchen lay more dead bodies, all of them had guns in their hands, all of them had died fighting until their last breath.
It pained him to see so much suffering, so many dead but this was the cost of war.
No one really ever won. It just appeared that way. In many ways, he was glad Miles wasn’t here to see this. He might have blamed himself in the same way Gunnar was berating himself for the foolish belief that he could change anything.
Raw emotion broke through the hard exterior he was so used to showing and for a minute or two, he stood in the ashes, tears rolling down his cheeks.
21
Branson
If what they were facing had been a game of cards, they had just been dealt the worst hand ever. No crafty poker face could hide the disappointment.
They didn’t know where Darius was or even if he was alive, and the only indication of where Jo Greene was came from a liar. How could they believe his words?
“Well I guess that’s it,” Lucius said, throwing up a hand. “We have to presume Darius is dead. Get Tex on the comms, tell him to extract us.”
“It’s not happening,” Miles said.
“Listen, Miles, I know you and I haven’t gotten off on the right foot, I’ll be the first to admit I enjoy yanking your chain on the ol’ hero thing, but even you must see that we are facing an uphill battle. There are only six of us, and if Raj is to be believed, Ms. Greene and her mother are surrounded by PLA. We are outnumbered.”
He stared back without saying anything. His lack of response only annoyed Lucius more. “No. No. No!” he bellowed. “You are not a ghost. You bleed like the rest of us.” He looked to the others for support. “Snow, Redford, tell him,” he said, then tossed out a few more names. “C’mon. Back me up here. We won’t even make it fifty yards from that hotel. Now of course we might have improved those odds if Snow hadn’t SHOT the only person that might have been of use to us. But hey, he had to get his revenge.”
Snow grabbed Lucius and shoved him hard against a wall.
“Get off me!”
“You are pushing your luck, little man,” Snow said through a narrowed gaze before giving a jerk of his head toward Raj. “You want to join him?”
“Screw you.”
Lucius shrugged Snow off. Miles walked over to the window, lost in thought. It was light outside. They’d been going back and forth on what could be done for almost two hours and neither of them could agree. The risk was high, there was no denying that. Although he didn’t like to say it, but everything Lucius had said made sense. The odds were stacked against them but when had it been any different?
“I’m just saying, I’m not losing my life for some silver spoon, stuck-up, daddy’s girl. Hell, I didn’t even vote for this president,” Lucius barked but everyone had stopped listening. Miles presumed they were occupied with the challenge before them. It was huge, seemingly impossible. If he’d learned anything from Gunnar, and his time in Camdenton, it was that doing the impossible was just a matter of thinking outside the box. It took time, though, and time wasn’t something they had. Charging headfirst into the hotel would get them killed. Lucius was right about that. It also didn’t help that the hotel was located on the eastern side of Branson, where all the commotion was happening, in the exact same area that Maddox’s men were attacking to draw the PLA away.
“What do you say?” Snow asked looking to Miles.
“I don’t. We all knew coming in here there was a chance we wouldn’t find them, and even if we could, we might not be able to get them out. I say we take a vote. Those in favor of giving it a shot, and those who want to pull out.”
“Well that’s easy. I vote to pull out,” Lucius said raising his hand. His eyes bounced between the others, expecting them to follow suit, but they were torn, they knew that if there was even a slim chance of saving this woman and her mother they needed to try. Lucius could see that he was alone in his decision to leave. “Guys, guys, listen. Do you want to die today? Because I pretty much guarantee you will if you entertain this crazy idea. I’m all for taking risks but this isn’t a risk, this is a one-way ticket to the other side. No one is worth that. I never signed up for these odds.”
“I beg to differ,” Miles said. “You were singing a different tune earlier.”
“Screw you, hero! Always got to be the one to swoop in and save the day, well, let me spell it out for you, dickhead — no one will be saved this time and that includes you.”
“I’m okay with that,” Miles said. “At least I’m not turning tail.”
Lucius scowled. He was done arguing. He charged out of the house
into the backyard and took a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs. Miles watched him tap out a cigarette and light it.
“You know I have your back, right?” Snow said. “But even I can’t see through the smoke.”
“It’s a question of how it can be done, not if.”
“Then how?”
“If I knew that we wouldn’t be here right now.” He chuckled. “We need to see this place. See what we are up against. For all we know, the majority could have headed out, chased after Maddox’s men. Redford, get on the radio. See if you can get hold of Tex. I need to speak with him.”
“You got it.” He turned and went out and fiddled with his backpack, extending an antenna before getting on a mic. Truth be told, small groups of combatants had been using methods of guerilla warfare for some time. Ambushes, sabotage, raids, hit-and-run, and many more had all been used in different ways to fight a larger military. It could be done again, they just needed to figure out how.
Miles went upstairs to where Scarlett was standing by a window at the front of the house. “How we doing?” Miles asked.
“No sign of trouble. Any update?”
“Oh you know, me with crazy ideas, Lucius just acting crazy.”
She laughed.
Standing beside her, he cast a sideways glance. “Listen, Scarlett. If we don’t make it out of here, I just wanted to apologize.”
“For what?”
“Us. The way I left things.”
She inhaled deeply. “It is what it is.”
“No. I could have handled it better.”
“We were both young.”
“Yeah, we were. I’m sorry about August. I wish I could give you answers.”