by Lopez, Rob
*
Josh stooped to pick up the squirrel and heard the clatter of a branch and the snapping of twigs. He looked up and Chuck was nowhere to be seen. Sliding down to the next tree, he leaned out in time to see Chuck making an untidy descent. Moving from tree to tree, Josh tried to keep pace with him, thinking that the old man was going to hurt himself real bad if he didn’t stop soon. It was almost amusing to see him going down, and had he watched it on YouTube, he’d have probably laughed. But the world had changed since the age of internet memes, and Josh’s awareness had changed too, cognizant as he was that there were no hospitals around for accident-prone victims to take it easy in bed with their leg in a splint, accepting soft jibes from relatives and friends as they brought gifts and cards. It was no longer a joke.
Surfing down the slope, Josh missed the sound of vehicles, but caught the sight of movement beyond the trees as he got closer. Hugging a tree to stop his progress, he heard the guttural command from below, and watched Chuck awkwardly trying to lift his arms in surrender.
Josh shouldered the air rifle and switched to his Ruger 10/22. Through the curtain of twigs, he could only see a car wheel and a man’s feet. Aiming his rifle at where he judged the man’s body to be, he fired five rapid shots, the rifle’s rotary magazine feeding each one quickly into the chamber. The feet disappeared, and the impact of bullets hitting the car body rang out.
“Chuck,” shouted Josh. “Move!”
Car doors opened, bolts clacked on rifles and bullets began cracking and whining. They had no idea where Josh actually was, though, and were firing randomly into the woods, with nothing actually coming close. Judging the extent of the convoy by the sounds, Josh emptied his magazine in a long slow staccato sweep, hitting car metal and smashing glass. Fishing in his pocket for a fresh magazine, he tried to insert it into the rifle, but his fingers shook. Realizing that he still had the empty magazine loaded, he took a deep breath and concentrated on removing it and putting in the new one, exhaling slowly as he slid back the bolt to chamber the first round.
Chuck crawled up the slope. Dirt kicked up alongside him from a near miss, but he appeared too exhausted to notice. He was moving slowly, his face contorted with pain. It was obvious to Josh that he wasn’t going to make it without help. Firing until his second magazine was empty, Josh finally broke cover and scrambled down the hill. Moving fast and flinching as rounds flew close to his head, he skidded to a halt by Chuck and grabbed his arm. Planting his feet against a tree root, he pulled as hard as he could. Bullets struck wood nearby, and Josh strained with all his might.
But he was too weak and Chuck was too heavy.
*
Lauren heard the sound of vehicles on the highway and moved around the camp alerting everyone. The crack of rifle fire caused her to run when she realized Chuck and Josh were out. Grabbing Harvey, she bounded down the slope, spurred on by the thought that her son was in danger. Careening from tree to tree and sliding down on her butt when she lost her footing, she caught sight of the vehicles down below. Arresting her descent, she looked around desperately and saw Josh trying hard to lift Chuck up. The ground around his feet churned with bullet strikes. A gunman stepped in front of a vehicle to get a better shot. Lauren aimed her rifle, flipped the selector to automatic fire, and fired a long burst.
The gunman jerked with each bullet hit, staggering back and flopping onto the hood, leaving a blood smear as he slid off.
Lauren moved farther down, stopping at a big tree. She could see the convoy clearly now – three vehicles – and the heads of the gunmen as they sheltered behind them, firing up into the trees. Steadying herself, she delivered measured bursts at each head, pocking bodywork and forcing them to duck out of sight.
Harvey came down the slope much slower than Lauren, planting his feet carefully. Reaching Chuck just as the gunmen stopped firing, he handed his shotgun to Josh and bent his knees to pick Chuck up. Steadying himself, he turned around and began carrying the old man slowly up the hill.
Josh, having struggled to move Chuck even one inch, looked a little surprised by the ease and calm with which Harvey picked him up. With the shotgun in his hands, he took aim at the convoy below and squeezed the trigger. The resulting blast, much stronger than his .22, caused him to stagger backwards.
Changing her magazine, Lauren was conscious of using too much ammunition. Switching to single-shot, she looked for targets, but the gunmen were hunkered down.
Now was a good time to get the hell out.
Waving at Josh to get him moving in Harvey’s wake, Lauren began her ascent. After only a few yards of attempting to run, her heart pounded and her lungs labored. She had no idea how Harvey was managing with the extra weight. Halfway up the hill, she had to stop, leaning on a tree for support. Josh too was red-faced as he clambered like a spider up the slope. Nobody was shooting at them now, however. Car doors slammed and tires screeched as a vehicle drove off at speed. Lauren resumed the climb, catching up with Harvey. His impressive feat proved too much even for him, and he had to stop, lowering Chuck to the ground.
“Are you okay?” she said to Chuck.
“No,” wheezed Chuck, breathing in short gasps. “But I can walk.”
Lauren glanced back down the hill. She couldn’t see the road anymore. Nor could she see anyone following them. She could hear the vehicles, however, moving around to the south. They were looking for the road that led to the mobile homes on the hill.
“Josh, help Harvey get Chuck up. And hurry.”
Forgetting her tiredness, Lauren sprinted up the slope until her lungs burned. There were only two armed adults left in the camp, and she was afraid they were about to come under attack. With Rick, Scott and Packy still not back, it all came down to her to lead the defense, and her troops were either scattered or vulnerable.
She dashed into the camp, waving her arms. “Get the children,” she cried. “Head to the rendezvous point. Go, go, go!”
Lizzy stood transfixed with the sudden display of tension. Sally picked her up and ran to the woods on the other side. April grabbed Daniel. Dee fled past them all. The rendezvous point had already been agreed upon – Rick had insisted on somewhere to meet up if they got separated. It was standard operational procedure. In broad daylight, though, it was going to be difficult to get anywhere undetected. Especially with the raiders in pursuit.
Lauren had to delay the raiders long enough for the others to escape.
She could hear the vehicles already coming up the sole access road. Throwing herself down in the weeds, she sighted her rifle and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long. The first vehicle, an old sedan, struggled up the incline. As soon as it came into view, Lauren put a round through its windshield.
The vehicle came to an abrupt halt, and its occupants, three gunmen, bailed out, diving into the trees on each side of the road. The sedan’s parking brake either hadn’t been applied properly, or it was defective, because the vehicle crept backwards down the slope. The vehicles behind came to a halt, but the sedan kept going, its brake shoes squealing within their drums. With a gentle crunch, it made contact with the next vehicle, stalling the whole column.
Lauren, meanwhile, peered through the foliage, looking for targets. The gunmen, equally cautious, did the same, their faces briefly showing up then disappearing before she could get them in her sights.
“Mom,” shouted Josh.
Lauren looked back. Harvey helped Chuck limp along, heading for the trees on the other side of the camp. Josh, however, ran toward Lauren.
“Get back,” hissed Lauren.
Rifle fire cracked in the trees, and Josh ducked down to a crouch by a mailbox. He was festooned with weapons, two of them useless, but he racked the slide on the shotgun, braced himself and fired a cloud of shot into the woods.
“Josh, go,” cried Lauren.
The recoil of the shotgun knocked him onto his butt, and as he attempted to rack the shotgun again, bullets splintered the mailbox above his head.
Unable to stand it anymore, Lauren leaped up, sprinted over and grabbed his arm, rounds whistling past her ears. Hauling him up, she ran with him to the other side of the clearing, entered the trees and slid down to the ground.
A gunman sallied out into the clearing. Lauren turned and snapped off a shot in his direction. Flinching, the gunman ducked behind the parked Suburban. No one else came into view.
“Josh, I want you to follow the others. Help Harvey out and make sure everyone stays together.”
“Mom …”
“Do as you’re told!”
Josh looked crestfallen. He reminded her again of the little boy he’d once been. She tenderly kissed him.
“Go. Don’t wait for me.”
Josh was unhappy and he stirred reluctantly.
“Please, Josh. It’s for the best.”
“I don’t want to leave you, Mom.”
“I’ll come find you. Now get moving before it’s too late.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. Help Harvey and take care of your sister. Scoot.”
Josh hesitated, then scrambled off through the trees and down the slope to the town. Lauren breathed a sigh of relief and settled down into her firing position.
The gunmen were reluctant to show themselves, but she could hear them moving about. The one behind the Suburban remained crouched behind a wheel and Lauren couldn’t get a clear shot at him. She also only had one magazine left, and didn’t want to waste what she had. A calm descended over the site, and birds tweeted in the branches overhead.
Undergrowth rustled as unseen footsteps worked their way around the site. It occurred to Lauren that they might filter down toward the town, thinking that everyone had gone that way. She wanted to keep them focused on her. Leveling her rifle, she took aim at the toe cap of the gunman behind the Suburban. The recoil thudded into her shoulder, and dust kicked up an inch away from his foot. The gunman pulled his toe back.
Someone whistled: a signal. A figure moved through the trees fifty meters away, attempting to circle around behind Lauren. She fired a shot, and someone returned fire, splitting a branch behind her. Lauren fired twice more and rolled away. Once she was behind a tree, she got up. Rounds thudded into the bark. Several gunmen now moved crossways across the slope. Lauren leaned out and fired several shots, then took off, trying to keep her footing on the loose soil. She headed north, rather than east down into the town, hoping that the raiders would follow her instead of the others. She’d heard no gunfire from the town, so she had to assume the others hadn’t been found yet. Hopefully they’d be able to get away and make it to the rendezvous.
Rifles cracked in the trees and Lauren ducked involuntarily, not knowing how close the rounds were landing. She had no time to look around. Hurtling down the slope, she came out of the trees. Ahead was the rail line and the main highway, and a stretch of open ground that sloped up to another wooded hill. Leaping a barrier, she dashed across the tracks and scrambled up a bank to the road.
The gunmen reached the edge of the woods and paused to aim at her. The air filled with zipping bullets. Reaching the road, she slid over the traffic barrier and, using it for cover, turned, aiming rapid shots at every figure she could see. The gunmen remained in the trees, and within seconds, her rifle clicked empty. Letting the rifle hang on its sling, she drew her pistol, took a deep breath and ran across the road and up the next slope. She made it to the trees and threw herself down, twisting around and aiming the pistol in both hands, ready for when the raiders came across the tracks.
The raiders, however, appeared reluctant to break cover. After a few desultory shots, everything went quiet. They couldn’t see her and she couldn’t see them. The birds sang and Lauren wondered what she should do next.
15
Packy drove the Blazer off the exit ramp for Old Fort. A plume of smoke rose from the hill where their camp was.
“Step on it,” said Rick, flicking the safety off his rifle.
Packy gunned the engine, crazily leaning the SUV around the corner of an intersection. Almost immediately, on the street ahead, he spotted another vehicle flanked by gunmen. They appeared to be searching among the houses. The small hill with the smoke was behind them. Packy spun the wheel, yanking at the parking brake. The Blazer skidded around and sped off before the gunmen could react. As soon as they were out of sight behind a building, Packy slammed on the brakes.
Rick and Scott were out before the vehicle had even stopped moving. Double timing it to the corner, they went into action without hesitation.
There were three gunmen on the street. One in a leopard-print vest had taken the lead, walking ahead of the vehicle, and he raised his rifle. Rick shot him twice in the chest. The other two gunmen took cover between two houses. The vehicle, an old sedan with a cracked windshield, hastily reversed up the street. Scott dashed across the street and around the back of a house, trying to intercept the two gunmen. Rick fired shot after shot at the sedan, shattering what was left of its windshield. The sedan backed around a corner. Rick moved up his side of the street, looking for more targets. There was a screech of tires from another direction, and a different car flashed by the end of the street. Rick took a snap-shot, but the vehicle disappeared. Scott emerged from the gap between the houses where the gunmen had been.
“They took off,” he said.
Rick continued to search the street, but couldn’t find anyone else. On the hill, the pall of smoke grew denser.
Jogging back, he found Packy examining the body of the man Rick had shot.
“Who wears leopard print anymore?” said Packy, bemused.
“Get back in the car,” said Rick, “and get us up that hill.”
“Yes, sir,” said Packy sarcastically.
They piled into the car and Packy burned rubber, weaving down the street.
When they got to the camp, they found it empty. The Suburban was missing, but the Humvee was burning. Rick and Scott scoured the trees, seeing signs of a firefight but no bodies. Packy wandered around, picking up spent cartridges.
“.223 here,” he said. “I do believe that’s your good lady’s caliber. Looks like a running fight from there to here.”
Scott crouched to examine the ground. “There’s multiple tracks here,” he said. “Some go north and some go east.”
Rick tried to make sense of the evidence. It was possible everybody got out in the Suburban, though it would have been something of a squeeze. The raiders wouldn’t have been searching the town if that happened, though. There was no blood that he could see. He could only hope everyone had managed to get away.
“The rendezvous,” said Scott.
Rick nodded grimly. He was still keyed up from the fight, and he wanted to follow the trails, but the raiders had been confronted on what they considered their own turf, and it was likely they’d be back soon in greater numbers. It was better to stick to the plan.
It was his own plan, after all.
“Get us to the rendezvous point,” he told Packy.
“Aye aye, Captain.”
“And knock it off with your dumb humor. I’m not in the mood for it.”
They drove to the other side of town, going off-road to reach the small hill with the rusting water tower that overlooked the interstate. Packy pulled into a track that ended in the trees, and Rick jumped out to climb the hill. When he got to the water tower, he found the others, all prostrate with exhaustion. He counted heads.
“Where’s Lauren?”
“Mom wouldn’t come,” said Josh, shamefaced.
“She was holding them off,” added Harvey.
Chuck lay in pain, covered in bruises. Sally checked him over and he yelped when she pressed his ribs. “We got a fracture,” she said.
Lizzy ran over to hug her father.
“We heard gunfire,” said April with Daniel in her arms. “She was in trouble, but we haven’t heard anything in a while.”
Rick disentangled himself from Lizzy and strode back down t
he hill at a pace. When he got to the Blazer, he pulled Packy forcefully out of the driver’s seat.
“Hey,” said Packy. “You only had to ask.”
“Get up with the others,” said Rick. “Keep them safe.”
Packy rolled his eyes and gave him an untidy salute. Rick hit the gas as Scott leaped into the passenger side. The SUV bounced down the track, smashed through the fence of a freight yard and skidded onto the road, hurtling toward the center of town. Rick was speeding past the train station when he caught sight of a figure stepping out onto the road in his rear-view. He slammed the brakes on and spun the wheel.
The figure was Lauren. Rick drove alongside her.
“Say, can you boys give me a ride?” she said. She was smiling but, like the others, looked exhausted.
Rick looked at her for a moment. “Don’t do that again,” he said.
“Well, hi to you too.”
“Get in.”
Lauren climbed in the back. “So, are you going to send me to bed tonight without supper, or are you going to spank me?”
Scott rocked back in his seat as the vehicle accelerated. “I can live without the intimate details of your love life,” he said. “But if you want to elaborate, I’m all ears.”
Rick drove back to the rendezvous without a word.
When they got out of the vehicle, Rick waited while Scott jogged up the slope. Taking his wife aside, he held her in a fierce embrace.
“Really don’t do that again,” he whispered hoarsely.
“That’s more like it,” said Lauren, choking as the breath was squeezed out of her. “Maybe I ought to do it more often.”
“What happened up there?”
“I don’t know. It all happened so fast. I think they spotted Chuck. Luckily, there weren’t many of them.”
Rick held his wife out and looked down at her. “Scott was right. This wasn’t a good place to be.”
Lauren grimaced. “Too late now. They got the vehicles and all our supplies.”
“They torched the Humvee. Probably because it was too much trouble to get it started.”