by Ray Wench
As the boy worked alongside, Mark thought, It’ll be nice having someone to talk to and share the load with, even if he is only eleven next week.
Six
The next morning Mark fixed Darren cereal with canned milk. He packed a lunch of cheese, canned fruit, granola bars, and cookies. They were both tired, having stayed up late to finish digging and squaring off the dirt walls. The space added another twelve by sixteen-foot area to the safe room.
They visited Darren’s house as promised. Darren had a little more life to him now. The meal, the sleep, and knowing he was no longer alone had done wonders for him.
“I’ll show you where all the food is,” he said, as they entered the house. He led Mark to a well-stocked pantry. A lot of packages had been torn open by Darren as he had tried to find things he could eat. They loaded up most of a case of water, a half case of pop, and a full case of beer. Darren’s mother must have just gone shopping when they fell ill. They filled four bags with food and another two of supplies.
While Mark finished taking things out to the van, Darren went back upstairs and packed more things, including some of his favorite toys, games, and books. Mark emptied the family vehicles of gas while Darren went and stood by the graves. Mark let him be for a while, putting everything in the van himself, but then it was time to move to the next house.
In some respects, having Darren made things easier, but in other ways he slowed the process down. After the fifth house, Darren was ready for a break. Mark would have worked through until the tenth, but Darren was still a child. He gave Darren a granola bar and a couple of cookies and told him to sit and rest. Mark, however, continued to load.
When Darren informed Mark that he had to use the bathroom, Mark decided to take the time to start a grave for the two bodies inside. He was halfway done and wondering what was keeping Darren when he heard a scream. He looked up as Darren ran around the side of the house. At first, Mark feared it might be another pack of dogs. With the gate open there was nothing to stop them from coming in the yard. Two men entered the yard, laughing. They froze when they saw Mark. The only one moving was Darren, who was running right at Mark.
None of them held a weapon. Then, everyone moved at once. Mark grabbed Darren and threw him into the grave then followed him in. It was only three feet deep, but it was more cover than the two men had. The shotgun was out of reach and propped against the fence, so he snatched the gun from his belt.
One of the men ran toward them with a gun. The man got to within eight feet before Mark shot him. Mark shot him again, dropping him in front of the grave. Switching targets, he shot at the other man who leaped behind a small apple tree for cover.
Mark had time to aim now and tried to make his shots count. If he ran out of bullets in the hole, they would never get out of it alive. Fortunately, the other man was not much of a shot. He reached around the tree and fired.
The shotgun loaded with buckshot would offer better firepower. Mark fired three quick shots, jumped out of the grave, and ran. He grabbed the shotgun without stopping, since a moving target was harder to hit. He ran along the fence while the man tried to track him. Bullets flew behind him. Mark leveled the shotgun at the tree and pulled the trigger. His shot was off target but caused the man to duck, allowing Mark to stop, aim, and blow the shooter away.
Mark ran to the man, made sure he was dead and grabbed his gun. He searched the body and found a second magazine. He dragged the man toward the grave and yelled for Darren to climb out. The poor boy shook with fear.
“Go inside and watch through the front window. If you see anyone else, come and tell me immediately.” He grabbed the boy’s shoulders and forced him to focus his teary eyes. “This is very important, Darren. Can you do it?”
The boy nodded and jogged off.
Mark dumped the body in the grave and went to get the second one. He dumped the man in with his partner. As he hit bottom, the man let out a low groan. Mark tried not to think about this killer still being alive. These men hadn’t come to talk or form an alliance. They had tried to kill him. There should be no guilt associated with the deed.
Yet there was. No matter how he tried to rationalize his actions, burying the man was wrong. Still he did not stop shoveling dirt into the hole. He closed his mind to any sounds coming from the grave. When a soft moan rose from depths, Mark could take no more. He stopped, took a deep breath, and set the shovel down. He couldn’t bury him alive. Picking up the man’s gun he fired once into the hole and the moaning ceased. Mark hurried to fill in the rest of the dirt.
Mark packed up fast and ran out to the van. He had no idea if there were more men in the area, but didn’t want to hang around to find out. From the driver’s seat, he motioned for Darren to come out. While waiting for Darren to join him, Mark searched for any unfamiliar vehicles.
Whenever he saw a car parked on the street, his habit was to siphon the gas and put a chalk mark on the tire so he knew which cars he’d already done. He couldn’t see any new cars. That left three possibilities: the men had lived nearby, the men had walked from where the rest of the group was, or the men had been dropped off, which meant others would return. Mark did not want to be on the street if the latter was the case, so instead of continuing their rounds, they went home.
Mark was very cautious about parking the van. He made sure no one was around before pulling up the driveway. He brought the garage door down too fast, crashing to the floor with a bang. Filling his arms with as much as he could carry, Mark instructed Darren to open the house door. From there, he stationed Darren at the front window to stand guard while he locked the garage door and emptied the van. As soon as everything was stowed away, he relieved Darren from his post.
“Have you ever shot a gun?”
“No.” Darren avoided Mark’s eyes. He was nervous.
“We’ll have to make some time to teach you. Do you think you can handle a gun?”
The boy shrugged.
“Darren, I know what you saw back there was upsetting. If I hadn’t shot them, they would have killed us. I didn’t enjoy shooting those men, in fact, I didn’t want to. I would much rather have allies, but some people just don’t see things like we do. We were after the same things they were, food and water. If they were interested in sharing, we could have worked something out, but all they wanted to do was take.
“I hope you can understand the difference. One day we’ll find others like us who want to share. But until then, we have to be very careful. So I’m going to teach you to shoot. You never know, it could save your life someday, or mine.”
“I don’t think I could ever shoot someone.”
“What if it was a choice between shooting him and dying? Would you just let him shoot you?”
Darren rested his head on his arms and stared straight ahead.
Seven
Mark and Darren went through the next few days with caution. They did not stay out long and traveled in short spurts, stopping and shutting down the engine in case anyone was close enough to hear the motor running. When they entered a house, Darren always stood watch at the front window. Since that day with the two men, they had taken the time to go into the woods a few miles past Mark’s house and practice shooting. Darren now carried a .22. The gun had intimidated him at first, but after a while he gained confidence and his fear eased. Darren was only ten – well, now eleven – but Mark hoped if the need arose he’d be able to defend himself. Of course, shooting targets and shooting a person were two entirely different things.
Mark also taught Darren about the security measures he had established in the house. Darren got to the point where he could set the alarms and check all the locks. He learned how to scan the area with binoculars, to cook, how to dig a toilet, and the easiest way to climb on the roof. Mark also taught him how to use a knife safely and gave him one to carry on his belt.
When they went into a house, Darren now knew what to look for that would be important to them. While Mark was in the garage siphoning, Darren
would collect food in between keeping watch. The amount of time it took to clear a house decreased rapidly as Darren became more experienced.
Instead of staying out all day they devised a new routine. They went out as the sun rose, did six to eight houses, and then went back home. They would spend the day training or finishing off the cave. Then an hour or so before dusk they would go back out and do a few more houses, returning as the sun set.
The stores were growing, but now with two mouths to feed they dwindled quicker, too. With just ten houses left, they would never be able to stop searching for food and water. To sit back and relax would be a mistake. Only a finite amount of food was available out there and they would have to travel to get to it.
One night, as Mark returned from the outside toilet, multiple gunshots disrupted the peaceful night. The shots came from the north, perhaps out by Erie Road, the main road that passed in front of the subdivision. His first instinct was to ignore the gunfight. Mark didn’t need to go looking for trouble. Trouble was sure to find him soon enough.
But what if regular people, like Darren and me, are being attacked by the horde?
Racing motors and screeching tires came next, followed by more shots. A car crashed, the sound echoing through the still night air. Mark picked up the rifle he had set on the deck. Darren was in the house getting ready for bed. Mark had taught Darren never to leave the room when Mark was away. Darren would be safe. Mark ran for the woods behind the house. He took a fast, yet careful, path toward the shots. The twenty-five-foot wide swathe of trees and undergrowth had been left in place during development to act as a buffer between the houses, condos, and senior apartments behind them. The woods ran the entire length of the subdivision from Erie to Little Road at the back.
Mark moved slower as he drew near the road. There was a lull in the shooting and voices not too far away. Again, the sound of motors filled the night. Was this some stupid form of drag racing? Then another crash occurred followed by a scream and more gunshots.
Mark stopped at the edge of the woods, about twenty feet from the street. Four cars had stopped on the road to the right. All four cars had their headlights on and their engines running, but they appeared empty. A fifth car had crashed head-on into a tree on the far side of the road. About forty feet separated the four cars from another car and an SUV, on the left. The car’s engine was off and sat on an angle across the road. The SUV was on its side in front of the car.
In the shadows beyond the lights, people converged on the two vehicles on the left. A shot came from inside the SUV. Answering rounds pinged off the undercarriage.
A woman’s body hung out of the flipped SUV’s window. Whoever was inside the car was trying to start it but it wouldn’t catch. Someone was crying inside the car. A female pleaded, “Oh God! Please.”
The engine cranked again but didn’t start.
A man shouted, “Start the damn car!”
“I’m trying,” the woman driver said.
The crying continued. It was hard to determine how many people were inside the car. In her panic, the driver had flooded the engine.
Mark lowered to a prone position and used his scope to see what he was up against. He had counted seven people when someone entered the woods on his right. He turned his head slowly and spotted two men trying to flank the two target vehicles.
At that moment, no one was firing. The attackers were closing in on their prey. The people in the car cranked the ignition over and over, but it refused to start. The battery was growing weaker. In the SUV, someone poked his head up.
As the two men crashed through the brush, Mark slid his hand down and drew his knife. The first man stepped right over Mark without noticing him but the second man stepped on Mark’s back. Mark didn’t move or make a sound. The man was on and off him before his curiosity made him look down. At that instant, Mark lunged up, impaling the man to the hilt. The man yelled but Mark clamped a hand over his mouth.
The other man turned and advanced toward Mark. Pulling the blade free, Mark threw the dying man forward into the second, causing him to fall backward. Before he could catch his balance, Mark was on him. He drove a punch into the man’s face, then grabbed the man by the hair and pulled, exposing the neck. He sliced through the throat and pushed the man’s face into the dirt.
Mark collected their handguns sticking them in his belt at his back, their weight heavy and awkward. He crawled back to his original position and scanned the scene. One man had worked his way to the underside of the SUV. No one inside could see him, but as he climbed the undercarriage a scream came from within. If that man reached the top, he could shoot down through the windows into the interior of the vehicle. That gunman was the most immediate threat.
Mark lined up the shot and squeezed off a round. The man fell against the SUV and slid to the ground. Without waiting to see if he stayed down, Mark swung to his second target, a man who had just reached the trunk of the stalled car and was readying a shot through the rear window. Mark dropped him on the trunk. A third shooter behind a tree not ten feet from the car’s windshield took a bullet to the side of his head.
The remaining targets disappeared. Some began shooting blindly into the woods. They weren’t accurate, but the wild shots forced Mark to keep his head down. Backing up about ten feet, he crawled farther to his left to get a different angle.
Four gunmen remained.
A man wiggled free of the SUV, climbing out of the window. Sitting on the door frame, he fired three quick shots at random then jumped down and ran for the car with the people trapped inside. Before Mark could lay down covering fire to protect the running man, two shots struck the man in the back, sending him skidding face first on the road.
Someone screamed from the car. The front passenger door opened and a tall man stepped out, holding a gun. His left arm dangled at his side. He’d been wounded.
A woman shouted from the car, “John, no!”
John ran to the fallen man and tried to pick him up. A flurry of shots tore into his body, dropping him next to the first man.
“John!”
“Daddy!”
The shots exposed one of the shooters and Mark took advantage by dropping him.
Suddenly, to the right, headlights lit up the woods, blinding Mark. With the light in his eyes, it was impossible to see in that direction. Exposed, he had to move. Mark scampered for the slim cover of a small tree and pulled out a handgun. The car moved forward, keeping Mark highlighted. Reaching around the tree, he fired at the headlights. The car stopped ten feet from the tree line. It took six shots to put them both out.
In the meantime, bullets ripped through the trees all around him. Mark moved. He ran to his right, trying to use the stopped car as a shield. The driver slipped out the passenger side, running for the safety of the cars parked on the street. Mark fired until the man fell. Quickly he squatted behind the car and switched guns.
Mark waited for the barrage directed at him to die down, then dashed into the street to the first car. The motor was running, the window down. Mark reached in and put the car in gear. With the headlights now in the attacker’s faces, Mark waited for the car to move past him then ran behind it, stopping at the trunk of the next vehicle in line. Staying low, Mark moved along the passenger side to the front bumper.
Shots pinged off the moving car as the men tried to put out the headlights. Switching back to the rifle he steadied his elbow on the hood. Mark sighted on a man sneaking up on the stalled car from behind. Mark shot him.
The rifle was empty. He was down to one half-empty handgun. Movement in his peripheral vision grabbed his attention. A man Mark had not seen leaned out the passenger side window, gun in hand. Mark dove in front of the car as the bullet grazed the left side of his head. The wound burned, but he pushed the pain aside. He wasn’t sure if there were any other shooters left. If so, he could be trapped between them and the gunman in the car.
Mark took a quick, nervous look around him. He didn’t see anyone else. Maybe t
here was just the one shooter left. Then, the engine of the car behind him started. The man was going to try to run him over. Mark dove and rolled to his right just as the car shot forward. The front wheel missed his leg by inches.
He stopped his roll and pushed up to one knee. The car stopped as the driver leaned forward in his seat. His head turned as if trying to locate Mark. Mark took the shot as the driver looked straight at him. The glass shattered, the man’s head rocked back, and his body slumped over the wheel.
Keeping his gun trained on the body, Mark sped to the car. The man did not move as Mark touched his head with the gun barrel. He reached through the broken window and turned off the engine. The act of shutting down the car ignited a memory. Mark turned around fast.
What had happened to the moving car? It should have crashed into the SUV by then.
The car was no longer where it should have been. The wheels had been turned. There was someone at the wheel. Mark moved toward the turning car with his gun up. Just then the car accelerated, squealing its tires as it straightened out. The driver shot through the open window but was looking down the road. Mark ducked.
With the car pulling away, Mark emptied his gun trying for a lucky shot to stop the man’s escape. He stood and watched the taillights get smaller.
Damn!
The escaped man would bring others.
Eight
After making sure there were no more surprises, Mark approached the two target vehicles with caution.
“Hello in the cars,” he called. “All of the men who were attacking you are gone. It is safe to come out.”
He waited but there was no response.
“Look, if I wanted to harm you, I would have waited for them to kill you and then taken care of them.” He walked closer to the SUV, which served as a screen to protect him in case anyone shot from the car.
Other than the woman’s body hanging out the window, Mark couldn’t tell if there was anyone else inside.