Survival Rules Series (Book 4): Rules of Engagement

by Hunt, Jack

  Zigzagging his way through the debris and the fallen, Corey hopped up onto a truck, bounded over another and leaped onto a fire escape with all the ease of someone good at parkour. He scaled up and only paused when he reached the top to peer over. Sure enough, there he was, crouching like a coward and preparing to load in another shell. Feet still on the fire escape, he aimed and shot the guy in the back of the head. His body collapsed in a heap. Seeing an opportunity to turn the enemy’s weapon on them, he clambered over and hurried to the mortar. A quick adjustment in the direction of the M224 mortar tube and he was in business.

  A smile formed as the first explosion took out four men taking cover behind a truck. The assholes didn’t even know what hit them. From there he used it to cut off the escape of others and drive them back into the heat of fire.

  “Corey!” a familiar voice called out. He turned to see Nate and Erika on an adjacent roof with multiple civilians. Nate gave a salute and returned to the battle.

  It was only when he looked in that direction could he see the new threat coming from the south. Hopkins must have called in backup as trucks and Humvees were making their way north from the south. Corey immediately got on the radio and alerted the others before shifting the mortar to the south side of the building in preparation to bombard the trucks.

  Breaching the west side was a breeze. The suddenness of the attack had caught the soldiers by surprise as two RPGs streaked towards their line of defense, exploding in a brilliant display of color. Shrapnel and debris soared in the air, cutting through soldiers like a hot knife through butter. The first attack softened their defenses, the second blasted a gaping hole in the wall of cars and steel, creating an opening to storm the town. The look of grit and determination on the faces of those attacking was a testament to their strength. Driving back the soldiers with rounds from multiple directions, Tyler drove a Jeep straight through the new opening in the wall of abandoned vehicles. The sides of the vehicle clashed against steel, and sparks erupted as it tore through, plowing down injured soldiers.

  Although they were making progress, it didn’t come without loss. Tyler saw muzzle flashes light up the night and heard the bark of a Gatling gun before witnessing seven of their own bite the dust. It would have been more had not someone hurled a grenade to take out the shooter.

  As soon as they were over the river, Tyler swerved the vehicle and took up a position behind it to engage with the enemy. The eruption of fireworks and gunfire from above lifted the spirits of Tyler and those with him as they realized they weren’t alone. He couldn’t imagine what must have gone through the minds of the soldiers as they were pinned down on both sides. At one point, all Tyler could see were soldiers dropping like flies. He knew they were getting the better of them but for how long?

  Running at a crouch between stalled vehicles and the corners of buildings, Tyler pressed forward to support the others. He focused on watching the backs of Camp Olney’s finest as they powered ahead, resilient and fearless.

  Tyler did a quick scan with the scope of his gun, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Everywhere he turned was smoke, fire, the dead and injured. Many were seeking cover behind abandoned cars, others fleeing. Then he saw the chief heading for Hopkins and his men. “Andy!” he yelled to him then motioned with two fingers to the building they were heading for. He nodded and both of them took off to back him up. Making their way up the street was a feat in and of itself. Bullets punched holes in car doors and peppered walls. There were times when they couldn’t tell if someone emerging from smoke was a soldier or civilian because many of the locals were wearing tactical vests and camo gear.

  As they rounded onto Baker Avenue, Corey came over the radio.

  “We got company coming up from the south.”

  “Roger that,” Tyler said before updating the rest of their crew and telling them to be ready. In the meantime he and Andy hurried south and witnessed the chief take out two of Hopkins’ guys. Hopkins and two more guys returned fire before ducking into the local Catholic church. Andy called out to the chief but his voice was lost in the wind. The chief disappeared inside the building. By the time they made it to the church they could hear the echo of gunfire coming from inside.

  Tyler pulled back the door and Andy went in first.

  Inside they heard another round then a man cry out in agony.

  Not using any words but just hand signals, Andy guided Tyler along the corridor to the sanctuary. They peered in and saw the silhouette of wooden pews leading up to a small stage where there was a pulpit and a massive cross on the wall. Large windows let in light from the moon, making it feel more ominous.

  “It’s over, Hopkins!” they heard the chief yell out.

  No response was given. Tyler pulled back the door and slipped in followed by Andy. They separated; he went to the left, Andy to the right. Moving at a crouch Tyler kept his head down and made his way down a pew. The odor of old wood, used Bibles and mold made it smell like a damp cellar. Tyler peered over the seats and spotted the chief dart out then open fire to his left. More rounds were returned, tearing up the wood and forcing Tyler to the floor. On the cold carpet he could hear boots moving but couldn’t tell who was who. It was so damn dark in there it was almost impossible to figure out where his father, the chief or Hopkins’ men were.

  Then an eruption of gunfire made him shift ass as wood above his head splintered and rained down on him. He brought his gun up and fired in that direction before diving into a room just off the sanctuary. He put his back to the wall and tried to catch his breath. The boom of a shotgun echoed and glass shattered. Tyler moved again, shouldering his rifle and panning it as he hurried down and made it to a second door. As he took a peek, he spotted one of the soldiers heading towards Andy. Tyler stuck the barrel out the door, squeezed and two rounds punched through the back of the soldier. He crumpled to the ground.

  A sudden flash from a muzzle at the front of the sanctuary forced him back into the room as bullets lanced through the door nearly hitting his shoulder. He crouched down, sweating as fear gripped him. Tyler moved quickly remembering what Andy used to teach him about never staying in the same spot. Another blast of rounds echoed loudly from within the sanctuary, then he heard Hopkins.

  “You just won’t die, will you?”

  Tyler took off running towards the door, he swung it open and dived into a roll that got him behind the cover of a pew. A shot lanced into the seat behind him and he kept moving at a crouch under automatic gunfire. Whoever was shooting at him stopped and was reloading. He heard them pull the magazine. Taking a chance he popped up and scanned the room, then fired two rounds hitting one soldier in the chest and another in the gut. The man spun and landed hard.

  Out the corner of his eye he’d seen another soldier off to his left looming over a body near the pulpit. Figuring it was Andy on the floor, he shot a three-round blast but the individual dived, though he was certain one of the rounds struck him.

  “Andy!” Tyler yelled.

  “Still here,” he replied from off to his right.

  “Chief.”

  “He’s gone around. Tyler. He’s…”

  Distracted by more movement off to his right he didn’t see Hopkins coming in from his left. A round fired and caught Tyler in the back of the shoulder. His body collapsed falling on his rifle in the tight space of the pews. Struggling to get to his feet he turned his head to see Hopkins approach. No words were exchanged; he simply lifted his barrel ready to fire again.

  However, this time two things happened in unison. A figure darted into view sailing over the top of the pews, and then multiple rounds were fired. When the sound of gunfire ended, Tyler was still alive. He twisted and squinted in the darkness, seeing Hopkins still alive farther down the pew. He was clawing his way out. Then his eyes went to the figure slumped over the pew — it was Andy.

  As he got up and scrambled to him, the chief came into view. He brought up his handgun and fired at Hopkins who was struggling. His body slumped a
nd the chief fired again, two more times.

  “Andy. Andy!” Tyler clawed at his top, pulling him around until he had him laid on the pew. Andy had this glassy look in his eyes. He was still alive but barely. A quick check of his body and he saw two rounds in his chest. Blood trickled out the side of his mouth as he tried to get words out.

  “Don’t speak. Just hold on. Just hold on.”

  As he tried to help him, Andy beckoned him with a hand to come closer, pulling his ear down to his mouth. Then he coughed and spoke.

  Andy Ford’s final words took him by surprise.

  With no response from Hopkins for over an hour, and facing a losing battle, Nathaniel did the one thing in his power to save those remaining. He brought the radio up to his lips. “This is Nathaniel. Hopkins is down. I repeat. Hopkins is down. Pull out.” He knew the response would be met with protest as most were loyal to Hopkins. Many assumed he was still alive. Nathaniel knew otherwise. Hopkins might have been terrible at many things but communication was not one of them. It was the lifeblood of his operation. The way Nathaniel saw it, there was no way in hell Hopkins would have allowed him to make that radio broadcast and leave unless he was lying in a ditch injured and without his radio, or dead. He believed it was the latter.

  Still, even with their numbers dropping and clearly losing the fight, some refused to leave. He wasn’t going to plead with them. They were grown ass men and he sure as hell wasn’t responsible for their choices. Unfortunately, many had succumbed to the stupidity of Hopkins and the belief that they were untouchable. It would be their downfall. But not for him. No, he’d warned Hopkins about waltzing into unknown territory but he wouldn’t listen and now he’d paid the ultimate price.

  Taking roughly thirty men with him, he left the rest to fight as he departed the town of Whitefish from the south before the tide of locals swept over them. Not all of them bought into Hopkins’ bullshit. Many were like him; they just wanted to live in peace, and in a free country. Reaching the outer limits of the town, Nathaniel glanced in the rearview mirror and looked at the smoke and fire. Though he had no idea when the power grid would come on, seeing the fight within the common man gave him hope. Nathaniel scoffed. “Long live America,” he said before crushing the accelerator to the floor and vanishing into the night.

  Epilogue

  One month later

  A cold autumn breeze blew against his skin, chilling Tyler to the bone. He pulled at the thick collar of his navy-blue pea coat as he stood at the foot of the grave, staring at the final resting place of Andy Ford. For a brief moment his eyes drifted to his mother’s tombstone. He let out a heavy sigh, crouched and brushed away crisp brown leaves that had fallen from an oak tree nearby. He fished into his pocket and removed a small white marble dove that his mother had given him; it corresponded to the tattoo of a dove between his finger and thumb. Tyler set it down on the gravestone and took a step back. The sound of gravel crunching beneath tires caught his attention. He cast a glance over his shoulder in time to see a Jeep winding its way around the narrow road in Whitefish Cemetery. The engine shut off, and when the doors opened, Nate, Erika, Bailey, and Allie stepped out. Corey muttered something to them and they hopped back in while he hurried over rubbing his hands together to stay warm.

  “Holy cow, it’s cold. Jude said you would be here.”

  Tyler gave a nod but was focused on the two graves side by side. Once Corey sidled up to him, he looked down at the mounds, the dead flowers and the array of cards inside plastic sleeves.

  Corey gave a pained expression.

  Tyler said nothing.

  “You kept yours?” Corey asked, gesturing to the dove.

  “It was the only thing I had to remember her by. Why? You lose yours?”

  “Oh yeah. You know with moving and so forth,” Corey replied. “You leaving it here?”

  “Figured it was time to put the past behind me.”

  Corey bent down and picked it up, then placed it back in his hand. “All we’ve got are the memories. It’s not much, Tyler, but it’s something worth holding onto.” Tyler hesitated for a second before smiling and tucking it back into his pocket.

  “It wasn’t all bad, was it?” Tyler asked.

  “No, there were some good times.”

  The only thing he could really remember about his mother was her love of doves. She’d bought an ornament for the Christmas tree. It was two doves wound together with ribbon. Before vanishing from their lives she’d given one to him and the other to Corey. He’d kept it with him all these years, a keepsake of what felt pure. Later, both of them had a dove and the number three tattooed between their first finger and thumb, which represented their mother and Andy’s first rule. It was called the rule of three; the first rule Andy had taught them. It became a mantra and the foundation upon all that followed. Corey tapped that tattoo on his own hand. “You can survive for 3 minutes without air, 3 hours without shelter, 3 days without water and 3 weeks without food,” Corey muttered before chuckling. “I’m sure I recite that in my sleep.”

  “Me too,” Tyler said, smiling as he rubbed his thumb across his own tattoo.

  “I never told you what happened that night,” Tyler said.

  “It’s fine. I don’t need to know the details.”

  “No, you do,” Tyler replied looking at him. There was a long pause before he spoke. “He took a bullet for me, Corey. Saved my life.” Corey’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Tyler had wanted to tell him but between trying to heal up and the shock of all that transpired he’d just closed up. “And… uh, you know the craziest thing he said before he died?”

  Corey stared at him.

  “‘Sorry, Tyler. For everything. I’m proud of you.’” Tyler scoffed. “Can you believe that? All these years and it took him until he was at death’s door to apologize and tell me he was proud of me.” Tyler shook his head in disbelief. Even now the words hadn’t really sunk in. Corey looked at a loss for what to say.

  Both of them stared at the old man’s grave.

  “I don’t think I will ever understand that man,” Tyler said.

  “No, I don’t think we will,” Corey replied. “Some people just find it hard to say what they feel, Tyler. I figure that was just his way. Hers too.” He breathed in deeply and looked out across the rows of tombstones marching away into the distance.

  “Listen,” he thumbed over his shoulder. “Bennington and the boys are putting together a little shindig for the town tonight in honor of those that fell. Wondered if you would join us?”

  Tyler had distanced himself from everyone for a few weeks while he recuperated and wrestled with the aftermath. It wasn’t that he was depressed but unable to express what he felt. “I…” He squeezed his eyes shut trying to quiet the mental chatter.

  “Tyler, I lost people too. Good people. People I loved. I get it. But don’t forget, you still have family. You have me, you have them,” he said thumbing over his shoulder. Tyler looked towards the Jeep and Nate gave him a salute before smiling.

  “I know. I… just…”

  “Can’t come to terms with what he did?” Corey asked.

  Tyler nodded and grimaced. “I don’t know how to take it, Corey. Like why? He spent his every waking hour making my life a misery and then for some unknown reason, steps in front of a bullet for me? It just doesn’t make sense. It broke one of his most important rules to survive — that we are to think of our own safety first.” He shook his head.

  “Maybe it doesn’t need to make sense. Maybe there is no meaning. Maybe he wanted to break a rule. Maybe it was not even about you but about him, about what he felt he had to do.”

  There was a pause as he contemplated his words.

  “Guilt, you mean?”

  “Possibly. I’m sure that was there.” Corey placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “Look, don’t overthink it, brother. Just be grateful you’re alive.”

  “But that’s it. I shouldn’t be alive.”

  “But you are,” Corey sai
d in a more affirming manner. “He was on his way out. And you know him. He wouldn’t have wanted to suffer and lose his dignity. God forbid he would have needed to ask for help.”

  Both of them chuckled. “Yeah I guess so,” Tyler said.

  Silence stretched between them before Corey continued. “He wanted you to survive. He always wanted us to survive. What better way to demonstrate it than to lay down his own life?” He tugged on Tyler’s shoulder. “C’mon. It’s getting cold out here. You’ll freeze your nuts off.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Tyler said. Corey wandered back to the Jeep. Tyler looked out across the small town of Whitefish, considering his words and the last actions of Andy Ford. A cold wind nipped at his ears, spindly trees shed their skin, a reminder that change was on the horizon. Winter was coming, carrying with it new hardships. Although the fight for Whitefish had been won, the battle for survival still waged on. After witnessing the strength of the community under the most severe pressure, a spark of hope stirred within, a quiet confidence that whatever trials might befall them, or dangers emerge, Whitefish would take it all in stride. For the greatest gift Andy Ford had taught him in death was that it wasn’t the stringent rules he’d learned as a child that increased the odds of survival, but the choice to break them in order to protect, defend and save another.

  THANK YOU FOR READING

  If you enjoyed that series, try Days of Panic or Phobia

  Please take a second now to leave a review. Even a few words is really appreciated. Thanks kindly, Jack.