Them: Society Lost, Volume Four

by Steven Bird

  Seeing a glow of light from a chamber up ahead, Greg squinted because it was the first image or light of any kind his eyes had seen since his abduction. He could now see the ominous outline of his captors, two of whom carried him, and two who stood just ahead at the entrance to the chamber that emanated with light.

  The only details he could make out were that the two large individuals who were carrying him were covered in fur. As they neared the entrance to the chamber, they both used one of their arms to remove something from their heads.

  The two who stood by the entrance of the chamber stepped aside, allowing Greg and those who had retrieved him to enter the room. Once inside, the light was much brighter, giving him his first detailed image inside the cave system.

  If not for the situation, he would have found the space to be beautiful and awe-inspiring. An oval fire of red-hot embers glowed in the center of the room, which was oblong shaped and appeared to have been carved by water and time over the millennia. Amazing mineral formations adorned the room. Reflections of the red-hot embers flickered off the walls and formations of the chamber, making it appear to sparkle with a brilliant radiance. It reminded him of a cathedral or something he would have seen in a fantasy movie.

  His wonder soon reverted to horror and fear as the two who had carried him lowered him to the floor, and all four of the captors moved close and stood around him. Seeing two more figures join them, he realized that six now stood there, staring down at him.

  “Who… who are you?” he stammered. “What do you want?”

  Hearing no answer, he noticed one of the figures, who appeared in the faint, flickering light to have the curled horns of a goat or ram coming out of his head, give a signal. A seventh figure Greg had not previously seen appeared from the shadows, and his captors began to release his leg restraints. Attempting to kick, his struggles were quickly overpowered by the figures holding onto his ankles tightly.

  Two of them stepped aside to reveal the horrifying sight of the seventh individual, who Greg could now see was carrying a large, two-sided axe.

  “Nooooo!” he screamed as he was stripped of his pants and soiled underwear. The two figures holding his ankles spread his legs open, holding him tightly while the seventh figure raised the axe high above his head.

  As Greg gazed up at the axe, he saw a glow of light off to his left. Turning his head, he could see that one of the figures carried some sort of metal, scissor-like objects that functioned as grasping mechanisms in each hand. At the end of each device was a glowing, red-hot coal.

  While one of the figures held on to his forehead tightly, bearing down on him with great force, the other placed the hot coals onto Greg’s eyes, blinding him instantly as the fluid in his eyes flashed to a boil. The intensity of his screams nearly damaged his vocal cords.

  The pain was unbearable; at that moment, all of his fight was gone. Greg simply wished to die. He simply wanted to be released from this hell.

  With a nod from the one adorned with ram’s horns, the seventh figured swung the axe down hard onto Greg’s right leg, nearly severing it just below the hip.

  Screaming in agony and covered with a splatter of his own blood, Greg felt a level of pain and sensation he had never before felt as nerves fired throughout his body.

  Realizing that the blow had failed to sever the leg as intended, the seventh figure raised the axe once again, swinging it hard and missing the original wound by several inches.

  Tossing the axe aside, the seventh figure took hold of the leg and began twisting and wrenching on it, attempting to tear it off at the shattered bone.

  Feeling the crunching and splitting of the bone, along with the tearing of tissue and tendons as the leg came free from his body, Greg let out one final, blood-curdling scream when they tossed his leg onto the hot coals.

  Hearing the sizzle and smelling the aroma of his own cooking flesh, Greg felt a metal object thrust into his mouth, prying open his jaw while breaking several of his lower teeth. A hot coal was then placed into his mouth, silencing his screams as he faded into darkness, expiring from the massive loss of blood and the extreme shock to his system.

  Laying on the cave floor, partially dismembered and in a puddle of his own blood, Greg’s struggles were finally over.

  ~~~~

  Lying in the darkness of the cave, Britney heard Greg’s final, agonizing scream fade away, the echoes of which seemed to live on throughout the vast network of underground tunnels and chambers for several minutes.

  She conceded in her mind that he’d been right about what would come next. She was unaware of the hellish events that had taken place in Greg’s last few moments of life, but the one thing she did know for a fact, the only thing she was certain about—was that she was next.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Nate lay listening to the fierce gun battle in the distance, he noticed the shots beginning to subside. Once the guns fell silent, the woods became eerily quiet. No birds could be heard singing. No squirrels could be heard barking. There were no sounds at all, save for the gentle breeze swaying the trees, setting free a few more of fall’s dying leaves.

  After a few minutes of total silence, Nate could hear a disturbance to his left. It sounded as if a large animal was crashing through the woods with reckless abandon.

  Listening carefully, he could make out the rhythm of the movement to be human. His heart began to race, and his muscles tightened with anxiety. He could feel the throb of each beat of his heart in the pain of his wound as his blood pressure increased.

  Slowly reaching for his rifle in an attempt to not move too quickly, thus giving away his position, Nate began to raise the weapon when a UF soldier crashed through the brush, nearly tripping and falling directly in front of him.

  Nate aimed his rifle at the soldier, flipped off the safety, and prepared to fire. The UF soldier caught a glimpse of Nate out of the corner of his eye and swung his rifle to meet the threat Nate imposed.

  Squeezing the trigger, Nate’s M4 gave the horrifying ‘click’ of the hammer falling on the firing pin, without the accompanying crack of the rifle’s report. When Nate reached for the charging handle with his left hand to rack the rifle in a desperate attempt to clear the malfunction, the soldier aimed his rifle directly at him and gestured for him to lower his weapon.

  Reluctantly, Nate lowered his M4 and laid it across his lap with the barrel pointing away from the soldier. The soldier looked back toward the direction from which he’d come, looked down at Nate’s leg, and then lowered his own rifle. With a nod to Nate, showing his respect, the man disappeared into the woods as quickly as he had arrived.

  Laying his head back against the log, Nate breathed deeply and his heart rate began to slow. His moment to relax was soon over, however, when another figure burst out of the woods. This time, it was one of them—one of the mysterious people from the cave who had taken Britney.

  Nate’s heart sank in his chest when he realized he had yet to clear his malfunction. Shit! he thought to himself as the figure bounded past him, in obvious pursuit of the UF soldier.

  Nate’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of the individual. It was a large man, wearing what appeared to be animal hides from head to toe, including his boots. The man ran like a beast, stealthily leaping over downed branches and foliage with precision. He created only half the sound making his way through the woods as the UF soldier. He moved with the stealth of an animal.

  Although he got a good look at the figure’s attire, Nate was unable to see his face because his head was also adorned with some sort of animal-hide hat that covered around the sides, leaving only the front open.

  As the beastly man disappeared into the woods, Nate lay silent. He desperately wanted to clear his weapon of its malfunction, but didn’t want to give away his position with any unnecessary movement or the sounds of working the rifle’s bolt in the event there were other pursuers nearby.

  After waiting what seemed like an eternity, Nate was finally confident no other
pursuers were behind the solder, at least not from his direction. He gently picked the rifle up and eased the charging handle back, ejecting a round.

  He slowly released the bolt, watching as it picked up another brass-cased 5.56 NATO round from the magazine and pushed it into the chamber. He tapped the forward assist to ensure that the bolt was fully in battery, then reached to his side to pick up the ejected round.

  Rolling the cartridge around in his fingers, Nate inspected it to see the dent of a good, solid firing-pin strike on the primer. A dud, he noted.

  Smiling, he looked up through the treetops to the sky above and whispered, “Thanks. If this had gone off, they’d have found me for sure.”

  ~~~~

  After having worked his way through the lowest lying areas of the surrounding terrain, Jessie reined back on Hank and said to himself, “It’s uphill for a bit, but at least it’s into some evergreens where we’ll get some visual cover from above.”

  Nudging Hank forward, Jessie picked his way through the increasingly tighter squeeze between the trees. “At least the fallen pine needles keep the underbrush down.”

  Realizing he couldn’t continue to stay in the saddle since the low hanging branches were getting too tight, Jessie swung his leg over Hank’s back and dismounted. “I’m guessing you needed a break, anyway. Huh, boy?” Jessie said as he began leading Hank by his reins.

  Catching movement up ahead in his peripheral vision, Jessie focused on the area, only to see a glint of light from between the trees. Jessie tossed Hank’s roper-style reins over the saddle horn, smacked him on the rump, and yelled, “Git!” sending Hank darting off into the woods just as a round from a high-powered rifle came smashing into the trunk of a tree next to Jessie’s head.

  Feeling the bits of wood and bark debris slam against the side of his face from the impact, Jessie winced and turned to run into the thickest area of trees in his vicinity. Several more shots were fired in rapid succession as he dodged and weaved, before leaping into a dry rainwater washout for cover.

  Being approximately three-feet deep, the washed-out ravine provided Jessie with adequate cover while he surveyed the scene, trying to determine just how many threats there might be lurking in the woods ahead and around him.

  Several more shots rang out, and Jessie had an eerie feeling they were intended to keep his attention focused and his head down while other threats moved in closer to him.

  If those are the UF hunters, those bastards are probably working as a pack, moving in on my flanks and six, while their buddy there keeps me pinned down.

  Well, I know where he is, and I know he can’t hit me for now, Jessie thought, turning his attention to his other vulnerabilities. Looking down the ravine in the direction where the water that had carved it would be flowing if it were raining, Jessie thought, That’s my only way out of here using cover, but they probably realize that, too.

  Catching him completely off guard, Jessie heard the heavy pounding of boots from a man running toward him on his right flank. Raising the shotgun in the direction of the threat, Jessie saw a soldier enter his view through the thickly-wooded evergreen forest. The man was drawing his arm back as if preparing to throw something Jessie’s way.

  Grenade! Jessie thought as he let the barrel containing the buckshot load fly, striking the man directly in the chest, taking him completely off his feet and knocking him backward as a red mist of blood appeared around him on impact.

  Jessie then ducked down in the ravine as the concussion grenade erupted where the man he’d shot had fallen.

  Hearing more footfalls now from directly behind him, Jessie raised up and swung around, firing the remaining barrel containing the slug. Missing his target, Jessie released his grip on the shotgun, letting it fall to the ground while he drew his trusty Colt revolver. Just as he aligned the barrel of the pistol with the man, he could see the man was aiming squarely at him with an AK-74.

  Upon realization that the man’s rifle was bearing down on him, Jessie prepared for a flash from the man’s muzzle as his brain transmitted the signal to his finger to pull the trigger on the Colt. This split second felt to Jessie as if it was all moving in slow motion. The entire world around him had slowed down to a crawl.

  Just as the man’s rifle discharged and a flash of light emanated from the man’s muzzle break, Jessie’s Colt discharged mere fractions of a second later, sending a recoil impulse into his wrist as he waited for the bullet to strike.

  Seeing the man twist to his side and begin to fall to the ground, Jessie felt a searing burn on the side of his face as he, too, fell backward. As he impacted the ground, now lying flat on his back, Jessie realized more gunfire was erupting around him. This wasn’t the continuation of an attack on his position, however. The men attacking him were now being engaged from other positions in the woods.

  Reaching up to his face with his left hand, Jessie felt the warm, wetness of blood. Working his jaw and neck to ensure he was still functional, Jessie sat up in the ravine and picked up the shotgun.

  Breaking the shotgun open and ejecting the two spent shells, he immediately pulled two more from the bandoleer with his right hand, shoved them into the barrels, and slammed it closed, ready to rejoin the fight.

  Jessie raised himself up to scan the area for targets of opportunity as the gunfire ceased. The violent struggle that had seemed in Jessie’s mind to be occurring in slow motion was now over, having taken place in a span of mere seconds. As his world began to return to focus, Jessie heard unfamiliar voices.

  “Clear!”

  “Clear here, too!”

  “They’re all down!” he heard in the woods from virtually all directions.

  Turning their attention to him, a voice with a distinctly southern accent called out, “Show yourself! You, in the trench, show yourself!”

  Taking a leap of faith that the cavalry had arrived, hoping it was not merely another group of marauders, Jessie stood and held the shotgun out to the side, keeping it in plain view.

  “Drop it!” the voice said.

  Doing as he was asked, Jessie carefully tossed the weapon aside with the muzzle pointing away from him.

  “Hands where we can see them!” the voice called out.

  Once again complying with the orders, Jessie raised his hands above his head to see several figures appear from behind the trees in the woods in front of him. He could also hear movement behind him, confirming that he was, indeed, surrounded.

  Jessie looked the men over carefully. There was no consistent uniform or method of dress. Each man wore a hodgepodge of camouflage clothing, ranging from old-school woodland BDU’s to German Flecktarn, and even the more modern Multi-Cam and Scorpion patterns. Each man had a day pack of one form or another on his back as well and wore face paint in various colors to aid in concealment.

  The only common trait the men seemed to have was they were carrying M4 carbines as their primary weapon, along with load-bearing vests that were well-stocked with fully loaded thirty-round magazines.

  “Come on up out of there where we can see you!” the man who seemed to be in charge ordered.

  Walking up the sides of the ravine, Jessie stumbled and nearly fell, catching his balance just before tumbling back into the washout. Seeing the men flinch and ready their weapons, he carefully continued up and out of the ravine, standing still and quiet once at the top.

  “Name?” asked the man taking charge, who appeared to be in his mid-forties, wearing mostly Flecktarn.

  “Jessie,” he said, looking the man directly in the eye.

  “Jessie, what?”

  “Jessie Townsend.”

  “How did you end up in a tangle with the UF?”

  Looking around, Jessie asked, “Who are you with?”

  “Don’t make me repeat my question,” the man said.

  Pausing, Jessie thought out his answer carefully, and said, “I ran across a few people in trouble. I helped them, and they’ve been on us ever since.”

  Seeing the two me
n standing directly in front of him look to each other, the man asking the questions turned back to Jessie, and asked, “Who were they? Who were these people you helped?”

  “Who are you with?” Jessie again asked.

  Seeing the man’s patience begin to grow thin, Jessie added, “Look, we all seem to be on the same side of the fence regarding those occupying foreign bastards, so let’s stop treating each other like the enemy for a moment.”

  “All right, I’ll level with you if you level with me,” the man said conceded. “We’re looking for some friends of ours. They went out and didn’t come back as expected. We’re wondering if those were the people you helped.”

  “It was a man and a teenaged girl,” Jessie said, seeing a look of disappointment on the men’s faces.

  Taking it a step farther, feeling he just might be among friends, Jessie added, “The man had just rescued the girl from the UF.”

  Jessie could see that statement rang a bell with the men.

  “What was his name?” the man asked.

  Thinking it over for a minute, and knowing how careful Nate was about revealing his identity to him, Jessie countered by saying, “How far are we from Del Rio?”

  “What?” the man replied with both confusion and piqued interest.

  “The man I was helping told me to head to Del Rio for help.”

  “Look, mister,” the man said, “I can see you're playing it safe by not wanting to give out any more information than you have to. We get it. But we need you to answer our questions. Who were you helping, and where are they now? Tell us what we need to know, and we’ll help you get that cut on your face properly dressed, and you can be on your way.”