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

by Bruno Miller

  “Sheriff’s Department? That doesn’t even make sense. Why would that be out here?” The passenger was suddenly interested and started to make his way back toward the car. The driver didn’t answer him and instead tucked the magazine into his back pocket and drew a pistol from his belt. He began to scan the woods along both sides of the car.

  The passenger rushed to join him but stumbled in the tall weeds along the shoulder and nearly fell into the bushes on the other side of the road.

  “Whoa! Hey, what the… There’s somebody over—” Pop! Pop! Vince could see the flicker of light from the other side of the car as Tom’s AR rang out. The driver leveled his gun in Tom’s direction and fired blindly into the woods. Vince rushed to pull his gun up and get in position to take a shot, but John beat him to the punch and squeezed off two rounds from his Glock.

  The driver doubled over and dropped his gun. He grasped at his stomach before falling to his knees in front of the car’s headlights, where he remained a few seconds more. Then he fell to the ground in a writhing ball. Vince could hear his moans as he squirmed in agony.

  Vince hopped up as fast as he could, ignoring his aching back. “Come on. We have to move fast.”

  “If the rest of their gang is anywhere near here, they probably heard that,” John huffed as he stood, careful to keep his Glock trained on the driver.

  “I’ll check the other guy,” Vince offered. He lowered his shotgun to his waist and slowly crept around the back end of the car. “Stay behind me, guys.” Vince glanced back at Cy and Reese, then rounded the corner and looked for any signs of life.

  The passenger was motionless and lying flat in the grass. Vince flicked on his headlamp with his left hand and held the shotgun on the body, finger on the trigger. He noticed two exit wounds in the man’s upper torso and didn’t see him breathing.

  “Cy, grab the gun!”

  Cy quickly slid the gun out of the holster and retreated to where Reese was crouched down and holding Buster’s collar. Vince rolled the body over with his foot and satisfied himself that the man was in fact dead.

  “Tom? Tom, where are you? Are you all right?” But there was no answer. Instead, Vince heard a feeble grunt from the bushes. Moments later, Tom staggered out, his left side completely covered in blood. Reese and Cy rushed over and helped him remain upright. Cy grabbed his gun while Reese provided support and helped him up to the edge of the road, where he sat down and leaned against the car.

  Tom tilted his head back and clenched his teeth in pain. “My arm.” He exhaled loudly.

  Before Vince or Cy could react, Reese had Tom’s shirt sleeve torn off and was rummaging through her backpack. After a few seconds, she pulled out a first aid kit and a bottle of water and began cleaning the blood from Tom’s arm. With no way to help Reese, Vince was anxious to get some answers from the driver, if he was still alive.

  “You got this under control?” Vince asked.

  “Yep.” Reese nodded but didn’t look away from Tom.

  “Hang in there, buddy. You’re gonna be all right,” Vince said as he headed for the front of the car. From what he could see, the wound looked pretty bad, but he wasn’t about to admit it out loud.

  When he reached John at the front of the car, he noticed the pistol the man was carrying had been kicked out of reach, and John was crouched down near the body.

  “Where are they keeping the boy?” John spoke sternly, but the man didn’t answer. Rather, he moved his head from side to side while wheezing and coughing up small amounts of blood. Vince couldn’t determine if the man was refusing to give information or if he was actually struggling to talk.

  The .45-caliber rounds from John’s Glock hit the man in the gut and the thigh of his right leg. His clothes were thoroughly soaked in blood. John grabbed the man’s face and forced him to remain still, smearing the blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  “Tell me where the boy is, and we’ll get you help.” John pushed him for information once more, but the man remained silent and looked away, trying to avoid eye contact with either of them.

  John wiped his hand on the man’s shirt. “It’s no use. He’s not going to talk.”

  “He knows where Ryan is. I know he does.” Vince looked the driver over and saw that he was growing paler with each passing second. Judging by the size of the pool of blood that he was lying in, the guy wasn’t long for this world. If they were going to get anything useful out of him, they would need to do it soon.

  Vince grabbed the man’s leg near the gunshot wound and squeezed hard. This caused the driver to half sit up before he fell back to the ground, wincing as he sucked in air loudly through clenched teeth.

  “Aaah, p… Please stop. It hurts.” The man groaned and tried to pull his leg away, but Vince held firm.

  “The boy?” Vince insisted.

  “Across from Put… Putnam Park, the racetrack off 550.” The man’s eyes rolled back into his head as he clawed at Vince’s hand and tried to pry it off his leg. Vince pushed his hand away and continued to apply a fair amount of pressure to the wound.

  “Where are they keeping him? Tell me now,” Vince demanded.

  “Ye… Yellow house. Barn out back.” Vince released his leg, and the man let out a heavy sigh followed by another coughing fit that turned into a gurgling sound. Blood-colored bubbles spilled from his mouth.

  “How many are there?” John pushed for more answers, but it was too late. The man had lost too much blood, and his body went limp as he turned his head and exhaled his last breath.

  “He’s gone.” Vince wiped his hand on the man’s pants before standing up and taking a step back.

  “We need to get these bodies off the road and hidden in the woods before anyone else comes along.” John stood up and looked at the passenger, who still lay where Tom had shot him. Vince grabbed the driver’s legs while John retrieved the AR-15 magazine from his back pocket. Then they carried him to the edge of the road and heaved his body as far as they could on the count of three. When they returned to the car, they paused to check in on Tom.

  Reese was still busy but making progress. She had already cinched Buster’s collar above the wound to form a tourniquet and was putting the finishing touches on the gauze and tape around Tom’s arm.

  “How’re you feeling?” Vince asked.

  “Been better.” Tom flashed an unconvincing smile as he looked away from his wound for a moment.

  “He’ll be okay. I gave him something for the pain, but we need to get him back to the motel so I can clean it out properly. The bullet is still in there, and it’s hard to see what I’m doing out here.” Reese’s hands trembled slightly and were covered in blood. Vince could see that she was flustered, and she had every right to be. All things considered, she was doing great, and he was impressed with how she had jumped right in and went to work without hesitation.

  “We can’t go back without Ryan.” Tom forced himself to sit up straight against the side of the car. They all looked at each other, but nobody said anything. Vince didn’t want to risk losing Tom or, at best, making his injury worse. There was no hospital to take him to if his condition deteriorated. And while Reese had done an outstanding job field-dressing the wound, he knew she was at the limits of her skill and know-how with this type of injury. The poor girl was an aspiring veterinarian, and they were already asking too much of her. Plus, if something happened to Tom, Vince was sure she would take it to heart.

  On the other hand, Vince didn’t think a single one of them could talk Tom out of continuing with the rescue. At least they had a car and a destination now. Ultimately, it was up to Tom, and they already had their answer on that.

  Cy and Reese helped Tom to his feet. “Come on. Let’s finish this,” Tom insisted. They all looked at each other again, but no one objected.

  John was the first to speak up. “All right, then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  While John and Vince moved the other body off the shoulder and into the woods, Reese and
Cy helped situate Tom in the back seat. Cy gathered both pistols the looters had been carrying and joined Reese and Buster in the back as well. Vince knew where they needed to go, so John let him drive this time.

  When Vince climbed into the still-running Lincoln, the first thing he noticed was the mess. There were empty beer cans scattered around the floor, and as much as he hated to do it, he threw them out onto the road. The last thing he wanted was a can rolling under one of the pedals.

  “Nasty people,” John snarled as he emptied his side as well.

  “That’s nothing. You should see the back,” Reese remarked.

  Vince finished clearing out his side and closed the door. Pausing for a moment, he looked back at Reese. “Thanks for what you did back there. I’m really proud of the way you handled that.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Tom gingerly placed his right hand over the bandage.

  She shrugged. “No problem. Cy helped, too.”

  “Not much. That was all you. I just handed you stuff,” he added.

  “You both did a great job.” Vince nodded at Cy as he looked at them all crammed in the back seat. Thankfully, it was a big car, but three people and an eighty-pound dog were pushing it, even for an old Lincoln Continental.

  “Come on, boy. Come on.” Vince smacked the front seat with his hand a couple of times. It didn’t take much convincing for Buster to accept the offer and launch himself into the front seat between him and John. Vince did a quick three-point turn and headed for the Putnam Park racetrack.

  Chapter Eight

  The Putnam Park road course was a small amateur racetrack used by local auto enthusiast clubs. Vince had been there many times to watch the weekend races, and on occasion, he filled in as part of the pit crew for a few of his friends.

  The track was pretty far out in the middle of nowhere and about a thirty-minute drive from Cloverdale. While he didn’t know exactly where the looters were keeping Ryan, it couldn’t be that hard to find a yellow house with a barn nearby. As he recalled, there were only a few houses close to the track on County Road 550, so he was fairly confident they could figure it out.

  Tom apologized a few times for dropping the magazine and causing the looters to stop, but they were lucky, really. Sure, it could have gone badly, but it didn’t. And making this trip on foot would have taken them well past sunrise and ruined any chance they had of surprising the looters at night.

  Vince drove cautiously and only used the headlights when absolutely necessary. Navigating with the running lights and the little bit of moonlight they had made for slow going, but it was worth it, and John agreed. There was no telling when or if they’d run into more of the gang, but now was no time to be careless. This road was the most direct way to Cloverdale from the track and was undoubtedly the route the looters were using, as evidenced by the occasional beer can or bottle on the road.

  They finally made the turn onto South County Road 550. It was only a half mile or so until they reached the racetrack. This area was largely agricultural, and the wheat fields here had been cut already, leaving short stubble behind and a clear view of the farmhouses between them and the Putnam Park road course. Vince shut all the lights off and pulled onto the shoulder as John used his binoculars to scan the surrounding farms for any signs of life.

  “I don’t see anything.” John passed the binoculars to Vince, who took a turn looking for any sign of activity.

  “No, me neither.” Vince checked his watch. “It’s pushing 3:00, though. I imagine they’re all passed out by now.”

  “They’ll probably have somebody on watch, like we do at the motel. Don’t you think?” Tom leaned forward in the seat and seemed to have found a renewed sense of vigor.

  “We should go the rest of the way on foot.” Vince reached up and turned the dome light off so it wouldn’t give them away when the doors opened. He shut the car down and left the keys in the ignition as he climbed out. Buster was right behind him and immediately found a place to take a leak. Everyone else got out of the car and gathered on the shoulder, looking across the fields and toward the farms.

  “It’s got to be one of those three farms, but I can’t tell for the life of me which one has a yellow house.” John used the binoculars again to look across the vast open area in front of them. These were the only farms on the road, and they were directly across from the track. Provided the driver was telling the truth, Ryan was being held at one of those properties.

  “Tom, why don’t you stay behind and be the wheelman. We may need to get out of there in a hurry.” Vince wasn’t crazy about the idea of Tom driving with one arm, but it might be the only way to convince him to stay back while the others went after Ryan.

  “Not a chance. I still got one good arm and my trigger finger works just fine. Besides, you’re going to need all the eyes and ears you can get out there.” Vince knew that it was pointless to argue with the man and decided to save his energy.

  “Reese and Cy, you guys stay here with Buster in the car and be ready. Reese, you and Buster have done enough for one night. Cy, I need you behind the wheel. I trust your driving as much as I trust myself.” Vince hoped it was a good enough sales pitch to keep them both out of harm’s way.

  “Dad, I can help,” Cy protested.

  “You are helping: by staying here. Please, I need you to do this.”

  “Fine, but if you get into trouble, we’ll be there in no time.”

  While Vince was trying to convince Cy to stay put, John made one last attempt to contact Bill on the radio. As Vince suspected, there was no answer.

  John gave up after another couple of tries and tossed the radio back into the car. “No point in carrying dead weight.”

  Reese called Buster back in from one of the nearby fields, where he was making his way toward an irrigation ditch. Vince and the other two men did a quick gear check and made sure their guns were loaded and ready. They were leaving their backpacks and traveling as light as they could. The plan was to sneak in unnoticed, grab Ryan, and get out just the same. They were about ready to start across the field when Vince turned back toward the car.

  “If you see headlights coming your way, I want you to backtrack on this road carefully and cut over to the next county road to the east. We’ll meet you there if we can’t get back to this location. Understand?”

  “Got it,” Cy said bluntly. He sounded less than enthusiastic about his new role, but without any guilt whatsoever, Vince was willing to accept a sour attitude over risking his son’s life. He hated to treat him like this, but they really did need a wheelman and he really did trust Cy’s ability to drive. He just hoped his son understood that.

  The first of the small farms was less than half a mile from their location, but they had to cross an open field to get there. Even though it was plenty dark out, the air was a lot cleaner out here, and when the clouds parted, the almost-full moon did a decent job of lighting up the night. If the looters had someone on lookout, silhouettes walking across the field would be easy to spot. Vince didn’t know if the gang would be disciplined enough to have someone on watch, but he wasn’t willing to gamble their lives on it.

  They used a series of irrigation ditches that ran through the fields in a grid pattern to approach the farms. It would take longer to travel along the ditches, but they provided the best cover thanks to the occasional tree growing along the edges and the continuous band of overgrown weeds that lined the banks.

  Vince, John, and Tom set out for the first ditch. The wheat stubble crunching underfoot sounded ridiculously loud in the still of the night. Vince looked back at the car once more. Cy and Reese were in the front seat with Buster between them. Vince hated leaving them there, but it was the better option, although there was no guarantee that another car with looters wouldn’t be out and patrolling the roads. But that was a chance they would have to take.

  Hopefully they could locate Ryan and be out of here in a short amount of time. The sooner they could return to Cloverdale, the better. Once the looters real
ized they had lost their bargaining chip, there was no doubt they would retaliate with everything they had, so Vince and the others needed to prepare for the ensuing attack. He tried to put the thought out of his mind. First things first: right now, they needed to rescue Ryan.

  Chapter Nine

  The first irrigation ditch they came to was only four or five feet wide and a couple of feet deep. It had a large number of healthy weeds growing along its banks, some as tall as a few feet. Between the height of the weeds and the depth of the ditch, they would be completely concealed. Vince wasn’t looking forward to getting wet, but it was the price they would have to pay for a stealthy approach.

  Without hesitation, Vince led the way and jumped down into the shallow trench. He expected to land in stagnant water and smelly mud, but there was none. To his surprise, he found himself standing on firm, dry ground. This time of year, the ditches should be full of water and teeming with frogs from the spring rains. He knew this because the early summer irrigation ditches around his family farm provided hours of entertainment and frog catching when he was a boy.

  He thought there was something missing when they were standing around the car, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The night was dead silent, and it made sense now; there simply wasn’t enough water to sustain life. The unseasonably high temperatures and lack of rain had left the ditches dry, and the flourishing weeds had sucked up whatever moisture remained.

  Vince flipped his headlamp on for a second. Careful to shield it with his hand, he focused the dim red light on the ground. There at his feet he saw the cracked and dry ground that had once been mud. It was a sad realization and another reminder that things were very different now.

  There was an upside, however, to the dry and barren waterway: the ability to move in near silence. The hard-packed dirt lacked any vegetation, providing a clear, easy-to-navigate path all the way to their destination.

  They were able to move quickly and quietly through the empty ditch and arrived at the first farm in a matter of minutes. But as they closed in on the property, Vince realized that the place had burned down like so many other homes. This clearly wasn’t the looters’ place, so they moved on. Still able to use the irrigation ditch, they made their way to the next farm.