Spore Series | Book 3 | Fight

by Soward, Kenny

  After John’s interrogation, they’d eaten lunch and talked about what they wanted to do. Tricia needed time to heal, so it was clear they’d need to stay around John’s camp. Randy’s heart swelled when Tricia used “we” when talking about them. It meant she considered herself part of the twins’ team, and they’d spend more time together.

  When one of the crew leaders had approached and asked if they wanted to help in the warehouse, they’d agreed. He found two rolling chairs for Tricia, seated her in one, and propped her leg on the other. The twins had rolled her the length of the warehouse and gotten busy loading decontaminated goods onto skids while Tricia took inventory of the items on a clipboard.

  They made a great team, and Randy considered them blessed for the moment.

  He lifted two five-gallon bins of rice from the incoming pile and transferred them to the skid by jerking them off the ground and dropping them on the first row with a double thud.

  “Careful with the goods,” one man said, nodding at Randy’s rough treatment. “John J wants the product undamaged.”

  “Got it,” Randy replied with a nod. That was another thing they’d learned. John Justjohn’s crew called him “John J,” and they spoke his name with respect and reverence.

  “Does this mean we’re one of them?” Jenny asked as she passed her brother. “One of John J’s crew?”

  “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “But it feels good to work in the open air without wearing a stupid mask.”

  Jenny’s lips drew down, and she gave an affirmative nod. “That’s true. Despite working our tails off for the Sheriff, we never took a break.”

  Randy looked toward a blackened window. “I’d give anything for a breath of outside air with the sunshine on our faces.” He stopped as a heaviness settled in his chest. “You think we’ll ever be able to breathe unfiltered air again?”

  “While John J interviewed you, we heard someone say they thought the fungus was dying.” Jenny spoke in a hushed tone as her eyes darted around secretively.

  “I don’t know if I believe that, but maybe it’s settling down or going dormant. You think that could be the case?”

  “Why don’t you go outside and find out,” Jenny chimed.

  Randy scoffed and shook his head, returning to the pile of product to get more.

  “Soldier, I need a push,” Tricia called out.

  Randy turned and rolled his eyes. Tricia had stepped into the leadership role naturally, giving orders as she tapped the end of her pencil on her clipboard or chin.

  “Coming!” He jogged over to her and placed his hands on the back of her chair.

  “Ready?”

  “Vroom vroom,” Tricia quipped.

  Randy drove her to the next skid and got her situated. Suddenly, the other workers stiffened and stared at something behind him. He turned and spotted John J and another man approaching, so he let go of Tricia’s chair and stood with his hands on his hips.

  John stopped and looked back and forth between the twins. “Which one of you is the best shot?”

  “Neither one of us are great,” Randy admitted.

  “But I’m not good at all.” Jenny came to stand next to her brother. “I shot a rifle earlier, but I didn’t hit much.”

  “He’s the better shot,” Tricia said with a nod of her head at Randy. “And he’s stupid brave. I mean, he’ll charge right at the enemy with no care for his own skin.”

  He shot her a mocking grin, and Tricia fired one right back at him.

  “That sounds like the kind of man I need.” John jerked his thumb behind him. “C’mon, Randy. You’re up.”

  “Up for what?”

  “If you’re staying around,” John said, “you should join Dodger on a scouting run. Get a feel for what we’re doing here.”

  “We never said we were staying around,” Randy reminded him.

  He studied the man next to John. A short fellow, he stood five feet, four inches tall and didn’t weigh more than a hundred and sixty pounds. His face and head were clean shaven, and he wore his respirator mask on a utility belt along with his pistol and a long knife. The man’s cynical eyes regarded Randy with a hint of annoyance, and he judged that the man didn’t want him along at all.

  John scoffed. “Still. I’d appreciate it if you’d go out with Dodger.”

  Randy glanced at his sister, though she hadn’t stopped staring at John. “We just got chased and shot at, sir,” she said. “Think we could get a break from the danger?”

  “We don’t allow our scouts to engage unless it’s to defend themselves,” John assured Jenny. “And Dodger is one of the best we have. Quiet as a ghost. I wouldn’t put your brother in harm’s way.”

  “I’ll do it,” he said with a nod, more conscious of Tricia’s eyes on him than his sister’s concern for his safety.

  “Good to hear.” The leader gestured for him to follow. “Right this way.”

  Randy gave the women a brief wave and strolled back to the offices at John’s side.

  Fifteen minutes later, Randy stood in an exit room wearing a respirator mask and dark blue Tyvek coveralls. Dodger was similarly dressed, though his coveralls were black, and he’d used black duct tape to seal his boots and wrists.

  John addressed the two with his hands behind his back. The man wore no protective gear, so Randy assumed he wouldn’t be coming along. “Can I trust you with a gun?” John asked, hefting a pistol nestled in a clip-on holster.

  “You can.” he held out his hand for the weapon. “I’m trusting you with my sister and Corporal Ames.”

  “Fair enough,” John replied, placing the heavy weapon in his hand.

  “Do exactly what Dodger says,” John said with a pointed look. “I know we’ve been dancing around the subject of you folks staying, but I think you’d be a good fit. We could use honest people such as yourselves. People willing to work hard to establish a new home for us all.

  Randy’s chest stuck out a little as he clipped the holster to his coverall pocket. “I appreciate that, John. We’re just trying to find a home like everyone else.”

  John smiled thinly. “That’s what I like to hear. Be careful, guys.” The leader gave the two a nod before turning back inside.

  Dodger narrowed his eyes. “All right, let’s go.”

  Randy followed him down a short hall to an exit into a secluded parking lot. A dozen of John’s scouts and fighters stood around relaxed, though some carried rifles pointed at the ground. A car approached from a service road with only its running lights on.

  The distant sound of generators reached Randy’s ears, though he couldn’t place the direction.

  “My car is over here.”

  Randy followed Dodger to a row of cars plugged into recharging boxes along the wall. He stepped back and watched the man circle around to the driver’s side door of a snub-nosed black vehicle.

  “These are electric cars?” Randy read the brand name above the license plate. “It’s a Tesla.”

  Dodger shot him a dry look as he circled to the back of the car, unplugged the electric cable, and wound it up to place it on its box. He walked to the driver’s side door and gasped as the door popped open by itself.

  “It’s a Tesla SX P100D,” Dodger said. “Get in.”

  Randy pulled open the passenger’s side door and slipped into the smooth leather seat.

  “Watch your hands,” Dodger said as their doors slammed shut on their own.

  With a laugh, he snapped his seatbelt on. “This car is amaz—”

  Dodger reversed the car out of its spot with a sudden, silent burst of speed. Then the vehicle launched forward across the lot, pushing Randy against the seat with a massive g-force. He glanced at the speedometer as they hit sixty miles per hour in the three seconds it took to reach the service road.

  “Holy smokes,” Randy gulped at Dodger.

  The scout chuckled as he slowed down and swung onto the service road. “I love doing that to people.”

  “This thing is blazing.”
He tried to steady his rushed breathing. “And quiet as a mouse.”

  “The perfect scout car,” Dodger agreed with a thin smile. “And it still receives a GPS signal, so that’s a bonus.”

  Randy gripped the armrests and stared at the full-color map of the city which rotated dependent on the direction they faced. “Do you have a regular patrol area?”

  “North central is where I hang out unless something else looks interesting.”

  He realized why John had named him Dodger. The scout’s eyes darted in every direction, and his head swiveled as he checked his mirrors in a constant rotation. He guided the Tesla around tight curves and sped up like a race car driver, and the engine flexed with deceptive power.

  They moved like a ghost through the city, zipping through back alleys and shooting across parking lots. The streets blurred with swaying trees and fungus-covered corpses, sacks of bodies sinking into the ground to be devoured by the all-consuming fungus.

  Randy took his eyes off the road to note the car’s interior. Aside from the high-tech display, they’d mounted an old CB radio to the dashboard. “It’s spotless in here, like brand new.”

  “I clean it out after every shift,” Dodger said proudly.

  “Seems like a lot of extra work.”

  “You’ve got to find something to be proud of these days, or you’ll go crazy.”

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  “Makes you wonder how hollow we all were before the affliction hit.” Dodger raised his hand off the wheel with a quick gesture. “I mean, we had every modern convenience, but almost everyone I knew was unhappy. Including myself.”

  “You’re happy now?”

  “Not happy,” Dodger scoffed. “But I appreciate my life more now, that’s for sure. And I’m proud of being a scout. I do it well.”

  Dodger spotted something ahead and jerked the wheel to the left, weaving the Tesla into the rear of a church parking lot. He hit the accelerator and shot to the other side, pulling to a smooth stop along the left side of the church.

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “Look.” Dodger pointed just as a military Humvee popped out of nowhere and crossed right in front of them.

  “Whoa!” Randy sunk lower in his seat as his pulse kicked up. Luckily, the driver of the vehicle didn’t see them. He watched them go two blocks before he raised up in his seat with a bead of sweat on his brow. “That one of the Colony’s?”

  A curious expression crossed Dodger’s face. “Yep, that’s Colony for sure. They’re the only true military around, and they still drive their slow military vehicles. I never have a problem getting away from them.”

  “What are they doing out here?”

  “I think I’ve got an idea.” Dodger reached up, turned on the CB radio, and scrolled through the channels. As soon as he hit channel nine, a woman’s voice piped over the car’s speakers.

  “Who am I speaking to?”

  “This is Kim Shields with the CDC out of Washington.”

  “You’re a long way from Washington...”

  Randy and Dodger listened to the conversation as a woman named Kim talked to a mother and her daughter trapped in their apartment. His jaw fell open when the mother explained her ankle sprain and her fear of leaving the apartment with the Colony troops prowling around. Randy leaned forward, impressed when the woman volunteered to rescue them and take them to Colorado; she sounded determined.

  “What if those Colony troops spot Kim?” He stiffened in his seat and turned to Dodger with a fearful expression.

  Dodger scoffed and shook his head. “Not if. They will.”

  Randy looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s a trap.” Dodger pointed at the radio. “The Colony soldiers use them to lure people off the expressway. Poor little girl and her injured mother.” He shook his head and scoffed again.

  “You mean...” Randy raised his eyebrow.

  “Kim is about to get snatched up.”

  He stared at Dodger in alarm, then his expression shifted from surprise to determination before he grabbed for the CB.

  Chapter 13

  Kim Shields, Indianapolis, Indiana

  Kim parked Mobile Unit XI on the corner of 23rd Street and Rural. She turned the bus around and parked with the nose pointing out to make for a quick escape should she run into trouble. Once she had Clara and Tessa on board, she’d take two short lefts and shoot onto I-70, heading westbound with haste.

  Not bothering with full coveralls, Kim donned a light respirator mask fitted with an earpiece and microphone to keep her in contact with AMI. She hefted an AR-15 rifle Bryant had trained her on, loaded a magazine, and charged the weapon.

  Besides the rifle, she clipped a holstered 9mm pistol to her belt then shouldered a backpack where she’d stowed a first aid kit, a flashlight, two respirator masks, and a knife.

  “Open the back door, AMI,” Kim ordered. The back door popped open and slid to the side.

  She stepped down into the quiet Indianapolis streets, remaining within the radius of the bus’s hulking form, her eyes scanning the overgrown yards and the houses lining the streets. Moonlight filtered through the partially cloudy sky to bathe her surroundings in dim luminance. Wild grass sprouted up in patches, pushing the fungal growth aside as Mother Nature sought to regain its balance.

  A pleased grin spread across her lips at the sounds of crickets chirruping in the yards. Distant vehicle engines chewed at the night, though Kim couldn’t calculate their distance. A glance over her right shoulder showed her a darkened I-70 expressway, raised seventy-five feet above her head where it stretched east to west along the north side of the city.

  With a sigh, Kim stepped onto the sidewalk and walked east, imagining her own position in relation to the directions in her head. The Caramel Creek Apartments should be three blocks up on her left.

  She stooped, carrying her rifle loosely with the barrel pointed down. A glance into a yard showed a broken swing set slumped over with old age. Kim wondered how many children had lived in that house and if any of them were the fungus-covered lumps lying in the grass.

  “Clara, can you still hear me?” Kim asked as she forced her eyes forward.

  “I hear you.” Clara replied. “Where are you?”

  “I’m coming up on your apartment now,” she replied. “I’ll be there in less than two minutes.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Clara replied with obvious relief. “Please be careful.”

  As she walked from beneath the boughs of an elm tree, the hulking apartment complex came into view. She counted five buildings in the row, though the numbers remained shrouded in darkness.

  “Which building is it?” she asked as she approached.

  “We’re the last one on the left,” Clara replied. “By the wooded area.”

  Kim entered the apartment lot and walked along the front of the buildings, keeping her eye on the wooded area that reached around the side of the building. The trees were sparse, and she saw a mulched path leading to a park area complete with a slide, sand pit, and monkey bars.

  The shadows played tricks on her eyes, and Kim squinted to make out any moving shapes. She paused once, certain someone moved in the darkness, though it had been a fleeting movement possibly caused by a rising breeze. Narrowing her eyes, she gazed around once more, turning in a full circle to catch anyone sneaking up on her from behind, only to find no one.

  A dusting of wind brushed her hair from her neck, causing fingers of warning to dance across her skin. Shaking her head, Kim cleared the fear out of her mind and walked up the short stairs to Clara’s apartment building. She reached for the handle and pulled open the door.

  “Are you close?” Clara asked.

  “I’m just stepping into your apartment building.”

  Clara let out a relieved sigh. “Good. We packed a few things, and we’re ready to go.”

  “Okay, I’m coming.”

  A new voice cut through the radio din. It wasn’t Clara or Tessa bu
t the voice of a young man. “Kim, stop where you are. You don’t know me, but my name is Randy Tucker.”

  “What?” Kim paused in the foyer, her warning chill cranking up to an alarm bell.

  “You’re walking into a trap set up by the military forces of the Colony,” Randy continued. “They’re converging on you now with the intent of capturing you and taking you back to the Colony. You need to quit talking and run!”

  “Who is that?” Clara asked, sounding angry. “Kim, don’t let them fool you. That guy is part of some other group. They’re raiders and rebels. You can’t trust them.”

  She backed out of the building and swung her rifle around at the darkness. Three shadows in the playground jogged in her direction. With a grunted curse, she backed up the street, preparing to fire and then run for her life.

  “Stop where you are!” A man barked hard against the quiet night, freezing her to the spot. “Now drop your weapon.”

  With a sigh of disappointment, Kim stooped and lowered her weapon to the ground. She closed her eyes as the shadows at the edge of the woods relaxed and strolled toward her.

  “Now turn around slowly!” the voice barked, and she did as she was told, raising her hands as she turned.

  She came face-to-face with a man dressed in dark camouflage coveralls with an air filtration mask strapped to his face. The stock of his rifle rested against his shoulder, and he stood in a firing stance with the rifle pointed at her chest. He removed his left hand from the barrel and waved her toward him.

  “Now, walk forward. Come to—”

  A flash of light burst from the overpass followed by a gasp from the soldier as something tore through his chest and sprayed her with blood.

  “Run, Kim!” Randy shouted, his voice crackling with distortion in the small speaker.

  She stooped, picked up her rifle, and ran for her life. The sound of pounding feet closed in behind her as the soldiers from the playground pursued her.