Endurance: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival series (Cloverdale Book 3)

by Bruno Miller

  Satisfied, Nugget leaped back onto the bed and curled up into a ball once more, watching Vince take off his boots.

  “Why don’t you turn the lantern up a little more. It looks like you’re having trouble seeing,” Vince said.

  “Oh, it’s okay. I’ve been on the same page for the last five minutes anyway. I can’t really concentrate.” Mary sat upright on the edge of the bed and set the book on the nightstand. “Can’t stop thinking about things, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Vince sighed as he rubbed his hand over his gray beard and forced himself to his feet. He began to pack his bag, making sure to distribute the load for comfort by putting the heavier ammunition for the shotgun and his .45 along the sides and the water bottles at the bottom. A few energy bars went on top. Vince paused for a minute, looking around the room and wondering what else he should bring along.

  “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” Mary asked.

  Vince shrugged. “Hard to say, really. I imagine we’ve got at least a few miles ahead of us. And who knows what we’ll find when we get there. I just hope Buster can locate the trail and track them back to their camp.”

  “Well, Reese seems to think he’ll be able to do it, no problem.”

  “I hope she’s right.” Vince stuffed a few headlamps into the top pocket of the backpack and zipped it up before setting the bag and his shotgun by the door. If he could help it, he didn’t want to wake Mary up when he left. Depending on how long Vince and the others were gone, the group that stayed behind might have to stand watch more often and at the very least help out more tomorrow.

  At any rate, he couldn’t imagine they would make it back before dawn, and when they did return, they would all be thoroughly exhausted. So much for accomplishing anything of significance on his to-do list tomorrow. He shook the thought from his mind and tried not to think about everything he wanted to do. He was getting ahead of himself and needed to focus on the rescue.

  “I’m going to try and rest a little here before we head out.” Vince lay down on the bed opposite Mary and turned onto his side, trying to find a position that didn’t bother his aching back. Moments later, he felt Mary’s hand rubbing his shoulders and then the small of his back.

  “Your back is hurting again, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it’s not too bad. I just took something for it a little while ago.” He did his best to downplay it, but it was hurting pretty badly. She must have known, because she kept rubbing until he fell asleep.

  Chapter Three

  “Dad… Dad, it’s time to go. Come on, everybody’s waiting.” Vince slowly came to at the sound of Cy’s voice. He squinted as he tried to look at his son standing in the doorway, but he couldn’t make out his face due to the glare from Cy’s headlamp.

  “Okay, okay, I’m up. I’ll be right out.” Cy quietly backed out of the room and disappeared as Vince began to get up. Mary had fallen asleep next to him. He carefully rolled over to the edge of the bed, trying not to wake her. Sliding over to the chair by the window, he blindly reached for his boots in the darkness. Nugget’s head shot up, and the little dog gave him a puzzled look before she took Vince’s spot next to Mary and lay back down.

  “Lucky dog,” Vince whispered. He rubbed his face and tried to summon what little energy he had. Glancing at his watch, he realized that it was a little past twelve and that he had in fact overslept. A little bit of rest would pay off in the long run, but he was regretting it right now; it felt like he had only just finished packing his bag and lain down on the bed a couple of minutes ago.

  Once his boots were laced up, he stood slowly and stretched, wincing as his back muscles tightened. He grabbed two pills off the table and washed them down with a glass of room-temperature water left over from last night. What he wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee right now, but he was already late and the others were apparently waiting on him. Even if there was time, he wouldn’t want to risk waking Mary up.

  He grabbed his shotgun and backpack and snuck out. Nugget threw him one last bothered look as he closed the door. Cy wasn’t kidding: they were all waiting, and Vince immediately felt guilty for oversleeping.

  “Sorry about that, guys.” Vince quickened his pace and joined the others around the hood of the pickup truck. Bill was standing watch and had just relieved Fred, who was still hanging around and talking with the group as Vince approached. Buster trotted over to Vince as soon as he spotted him. Vince rubbed his head and looked him over, wondering if this big happy-go-lucky dog was up for the task ahead.

  Cy turned to his dad and offered him a steaming cup of coffee. “Here you go. It’s pretty strong, but it’ll get you moving.”

  Eyes widening, Vince set his bag on the ground and took the cup. “Thanks, I could really use that.” The coffee was strong, but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It was just what he needed to fully come around and get into the game.

  “Nice of you to join us, Major,” John teased.

  “Moving a little slow this morning, if you can call it that,” Vince said, glancing at his watch. He noticed the backpacks Dave and Kelly had carried were sitting on the hood of the truck.

  “I see you went and got their bags,” Vince said.

  “Yeah,” Cy answered, “I ran out and grabbed them. Reese thinks it’s best for Buster to go off one of their scents.”

  “That’s right,” Reese said. “Buster will have a better chance of picking up their trail since they were carrying Ryan when they left. Plus, I can take something of theirs with us to give Buster what’s called a scent article. They were both pretty sweaty, so these packs should have a good amount of smell to them.” Reese approached the closest bag and unzipped it, then dumped its contents onto the hood of the truck. Vince wasn’t surprised to see an assortment of rags and old bricks tumble out. He shook his head as he thought again about how they had fallen for the story hook, line, and sinker. It made him feel foolish but also hardened his resolve. Vince wanted retribution, and he was going to get it one way or another.

  “So much for canned goods and clothes.” John shot Vince a disgusted look. He looked as irritated as Vince felt about the whole thing.

  “No matter. We’ll use a piece of the bag itself.” Reese produced a small pocket knife and proceeded to cut off a piece of fabric from the back area and placed it in a ziplock bag.

  “Well, that ought to do it,” Reese declared. “We’re ready to go when you are.”

  Everyone glanced at each other before shouldering their bags and picking up their guns.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Vince leaned his gun against the truck and set what was left of his coffee down. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a handful of headlamps.

  “These all have a red LED setting. I suggest we use these to conserve our night vision. It will also make us less visible when we get close. Help yourselves.” Vince tossed the pile of headlamps on the hood.

  “We should start around back. That’s the way they left,” Reese said.

  “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get going.” Tom fastened the headlamp and turned it on.

  “We’re right behind you, Reese. Lead the way,” Vince said as he picked up his gun and slung on his bag. He and the small group made their way around the side of the motel and stopped when they reached the back door that led out of the kitchen.

  “This is where we start. Buster,” Reese commanded. “Heel up. Heel up, boy.”

  Vince was somewhat shocked to see Buster’s reaction; in a matter of seconds, the otherwise carefree dog perked up and ran to Reese’s side, where he sat down a few inches from her right leg and waited astutely for his next command.

  Reese opened the ziplock bag with the piece of backpack and presented it to Buster. He stuck his nose in the bag and sniffed at the scrap of cloth for a second or two, fogging up the plastic in the process. Reese closed the bag and stuffed it in her pocket, then gave Buster his next command. “Search! Come on, boy, you can do it. Search!” she said sharpl
y.

  Frozen in what seemed like a trance, Buster stared blankly at the trees. As Buster processed the command, Vince wondered if this was really going to work. What were they thinking? Had they actually put all their hopes into a dog’s ability to find Ryan? He bit his tongue and remained quiet, patiently waiting for Reese and Buster to do their thing.

  All at once, Buster launched from his heeled position and began sniffing the ground with a determination and seriousness that Vince would have never guessed he was capable of. Buster started making tight circles around the group, working his way farther out as he went. Then, just as quickly as he’d started, Buster stopped and sat down with his snoot in the air and looked back at Reese.

  “He’s got it!” Reese ran over and praised Buster with heavy scratching and a few pieces of food from her pocket before she stepped back and gave the next command. “Find! Find!” She pointed toward the woods behind the motel. There was no hesitation this time: Buster jumped up and headed off on the trail.

  Vince was glad to see the dog spring into action, and for the first time since they had come up with this plan, he began to believe that it might actually work. Everybody fell into a single-file line behind Reese as she followed Buster into the sparse pines that grew just beyond the motel. Vince glanced over at the freshly disturbed pile of earth at the edge of the woods where they had buried Jim the other day. A few of the others looked in that direction as well. While Jim’s death was sad, Vince hoped it would serve as a reminder of the type of people they were up against, although he doubted anyone needed reminding.

  Buster began a pattern of running twenty to thirty yards ahead of the group before stopping to wait impatiently for Reese and the others to catch up. His big pink tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, he panted and sniffed at the air.

  Vince noticed that the route Buster was leading them along had started to turn west and head back toward the road. Vince suspected that the kidnappers had circled around and made their way out to the highway, where they must have met up with the rest of their gang at some predetermined rendezvous point on the road beyond town.

  Undoubtedly, the same looters who had pinned down Vince and John in the gunfight were also the ones who gave the imposters a ride back to their base of operations. Vince guessed that the two cars had never intended on coming into town or trying to force their way past the roadblock to begin with. Their sole purpose was to cause a distraction while their two accomplices played the part of weary travelers until they could grab a hostage. Vince was mad and a little embarrassed that they had fallen for the cheap trick, but he had to admit that a part of him was impressed by the scheme and the looters’ ability to pull it off. He would never underestimate them again. It was a hard lesson, and he wouldn’t forget it anytime soon. It would also be a very long time before he trusted any strangers who came through Cloverdale, and he was sure the others felt the same way. From now on, he vowed to listen to his gut whether it offended anyone or not.

  Chapter Four

  Vince’s suspicions were correct, and after about ten minutes of walking, they emerged from the woods. One by one, they crossed the ditch and gathered at a spot just past the roadblock.

  “Well, we didn’t get very far,” Tom said, but Vince and John were already headed over to where the looters’ vehicles were parked during the firefight. Vince scanned the ground for shell casings and noticed the amount of brass on the ground.

  “They used a fair amount of ammo.” John reached down, picked up an empty casing, and inspected it closely before tossing it to Vince. John shook his head. “No wonder they were punching through the cars so easy.”

  Vince looked at the casing and strained to read the writing around the primer in the red glow of his headlamp. “It’s a .300 Win Mag,” he mumbled, glancing back at the roadblock. He could just barely make out the outline of the two cars he had pushed together with the loader. At this range, a .300 Winchester Magnum would have no problem penetrating both sides of the car, as they had seen; he and John were lucky to be alive.

  Tom, Cy, and Reese joined them as Buster sniffed the ground. Vince saw the tire tracks where the two cars had peeled out in the grass.

  “They were definitely here,” Reese said as she watched Buster circle the area and confirm they were still on the trail.

  “Man, they went through a lot of ammo,” Cy remarked.

  “Maybe they’re running low.” Tom stood, looking at the spent casings on the ground. And there were plenty to look at—at least a hundred littering the area—but Vince doubted they were running low. If they were, they wouldn’t have been so careless.

  “Or maybe they have plenty and aren’t worried about it at all,” Vince huffed. Either way, it was time to keep moving and Buster was growing restless. He had picked up the scent, which headed north toward the quarry, and was whining and pacing back and forth in an attempt to get Reese to follow him.

  “But if they’re traveling by car, how will he track them from here?” Tom asked.

  Reese patted Buster on the head. “Scent can blow off of a person a lot like pollen off a flower and settle on nearby plants or objects. I know it sounds a little farfetched, but it’s true. Buster can do it. I know he can.” She started moving toward Buster. The dog took her cue and immediately resumed the hunt.

  Vince admired her resolve, and before Tom could cast any more doubt about Buster’s abilities, he followed Reese’s lead and headed out. One by one, the others fell in line behind him, and they continued on.

  They walked along the shoulder of the road and watched Buster do his thing. He constantly ran from one spot to the next along the road and the edge of the taller vegetation that bordered the woods. Occasionally, he would stop altogether like he’d lost the trail, then backtrack a few feet, sniffing and snorting at the ground until he found what he wanted.

  It was hot outside, in Vince’s opinion, at least for the time. It was close to 1:00 a.m., and he’d hoped it would be a little cooler for the bulk of their journey, but the temperature hadn’t dropped much from the daytime. In fact, it was hot pretty much all the time now. That was one thing he couldn’t help but notice since the bombs, and he was sure they were related, although he didn’t understand the science behind it. The air felt bottled and stale, like they were trapped in a container with a tight lid. The absence of any breeze only added to his discomfort and seemed to exaggerate the heat rising from the asphalt.

  Vince thought back to when he was a kid and would borrow an old mason jar from his mother to catch bugs around the farm. He was always careful to poke holes in the top so as not to kill whatever critter he had captured. He forgot to do that once while heeding his mother’s call to come in and eat lunch, and when he returned, the grasshopper he’d trapped was dead. He felt like the forgotten grasshopper now.

  What he wouldn’t give for a good rain shower or thunderstorm to clear the air and give everything a much-needed rinse—him included. But at least they weren’t fighting their way through the woods now that the scent had led them out onto the road. And Vince was grateful for that. He reminded himself it could be worse and wiped another bead of sweat from his brow.

  They moved on in silence, each person following their own red spotlight on the ground in front of them. Vince had suggested everyone pivot their headlamps toward the ground and keep them there. Even though the red LEDs were the least visible form of light, he didn’t want to chance being spotted. And every time he looked up and scanned his surroundings, he held his hand over the LED just in case.

  For the most part they traveled in silence, everyone dealing with the heat and misery in their own way. Other than their heavy footsteps on the pavement, the only sound was Reese’s voice as she called out words of praise and encouragement to Buster every so often. The dog never seemed to slow his pace or waver in his determination, and Vince was beyond impressed with the smoothness of their teamwork. They had both far surpassed his expectations. Buster constantly checked back with Reese for approval, but only f
or a brief moment; then he returned to the task of tracking the looters.

  As they passed the area beyond the overpass, where they had encountered the looters on their way back from the quarry, Vince noticed everyone but Reese looking over at the wrecked ATVs. He wondered if they were searching for the bodies like he was. He didn’t see them, but it was dark. Or maybe the other gang members had retrieved them. Either way, he was glad to pass the area where Cy had rammed the car with the loader and even more pleased that no one had brought the incident up.

  After another fifteen minutes or so of walking, they reached the four-way intersection with the westbound road that led to the quarry. They all stopped and looked around as Buster took in a few deep breaths of air. It was a good spot to stop and drink some water, and they all took a moment to do just that. From her bag Reese pulled out a plastic container that she had cut down to make a bowl and poured Buster some water before taking a drink herself.

  Vince thought about how the two-way radio hadn’t worked from this distance when they were getting the loader from the quarry, and he wondered if it would still yield the same result now. John’s radios were high-quality units and should have covered this range with ease. From here, the motel couldn’t have been more than a few miles away. The failure they experienced with the radios last time was another thing Vince chalked up to residual interference from the EMPs; at least that was his uneducated guess as to why they couldn’t make contact at this short distance. Maybe that would improve with time.

  “Hey, John, you want to see if you can reach Bill?” Vince asked.