Random Survival

by Ray Wench

  Have I become as much a cold-hearted killer as these men?

  Dodging left, staying undercover of the bushes and small trees that landscaped the next house, Mark dove to the ground on the far side of the porch. No shots followed him. Mark knew he couldn’t stay there long. The remaining men would be closing soon. He lined up a shot and waited for someone to poke his head out from between the houses. A head did pop out and duck back, but too quick to get a shot off.

  “Where’d he go?”

  “I think he’s hunkered down next to the porch. Leastways, I didn’t see him move on.”

  “Keep him pinned down. I’ll go ’round behind him.”

  There was no reply, but bullets began ripping overhead.

  Could the front door be open since most of the houses had been ransacked already? He doubted they would have bothered to lock them. The trouble was, if he got up to check and it was locked, he’d be standing in the open, an easy target.

  Knowing he was about to be outflanked, he fired two shots to keep the man in front of him down, then jumped up on the small concrete porch and turned the door knob. A shot whistled past a second later and a smell of rotting flesh hit him as he pushed through the door. He shut and locked it then ran for the back. When he found the rear door, he went through it, vaulted the deck railing to the right and moved with stealth to the side of the house, hoping to come up behind the flanking man.

  “He’s in the house. He went in the house,” the voice called from out front. As he looked around the corner, the man stopped. He turned his head and Mark ducked back. He counted to three then jumped out, ready to shoot, but his prey was no longer there.

  A chill ran up Mark’s spine. He turned and stepped to the side of the house. He had no idea where the men were. If they came at him from both directions, he had no cover. Mark had outfoxed himself.

  Sliding toward the backyard again, he glanced around the corner in time to see one of the men coming around the deck in a crouch. He noticed Mark a second later and tried to shoot and duck. Mark got his shot off faster. It hit the man in the shoulder as he dove for the cover of the deck. Before Mark could finish him, shots ripped long furrows in the siding near his head, forcing him around the corner to seek protection. Reaching back around the corner, Mark shot one round to keep the man from being too aggressive in his pursuit. Hoping the wounded man would not be able to get off an accurate shot, Mark ran for the deck and climbed over the rail.

  The wounded man tried to sit up high enough to take a shot. The bullet went wild. Mark ran down the far steps and to the end of the house. As he rounded the corner, he almost ran right into the second man. They both raised their guns, fired off target, and ran back the way they came.

  The wounded man fired another round, which shattered the window above him. Mark ducked, and without thinking, ran out beyond the deck and fired repeatedly. He kept moving toward the wounded man. The two men exchanged shots until the man was down and Mark’s magazine was empty. He threw down the gun and pulled out the next one.

  Mark grabbed the dead man’s gun and searched the body for extra ammo, but found none. When he opened the gun, he discovered the man had been down to his last round. As quietly as he could, Mark climbed on the deck. The sliding door stood ajar and he inched it open enough to slip inside. He didn’t have enough ammunition to trade shots, and by now, others must have heard the gunshots and would be on the way. Mark needed to locate his target before reinforcements came. Getting trapped in the house, would be a death sentence. Mark tiptoed from room to room, peering out the windows. He found the man sneaking up on the opposite side of the house. Knowing he would give himself away if he tried anything from there, Mark went upstairs to the corner bedroom and eased the window open. A screen blocked him. Mark took his knife and sliced a large X in it, then waited for the man to break cover.

  It only took a moment. “Charlie. Hey, Charlie, you still there?”

  When he didn’t get an answer, the man crept around the corner in a crouch and made his way to the side of the deck. He was now below Mark and to the left. Mark pushed his gun through the X inch by inch. The man below froze. He tensed and turned back the way he came. Mark pulled the trigger without proper sighting, and the first shot hit the deck. The man dove to his left as the second shot hit his leg. Without hesitating, he came out of his roll and fired up. Mark’s third shot hit his left arm. His fourth found his enemy’s chest and the gun went dry. The man fell back, staring straight up.

  Mark dropped the empty gun and took out the first man’s weapon. Slipping the lone bullet out he placed it in the last gun. He had eight shots left. He needed to get the dead man’s gun. Sprinting back down the stairs he came out of the sliding door with his gun up and ready. He looked over the railing. The body was gone.

  Damn!

  Mark stepped off the deck and walked around it, watching the side of the house. It was the only direction the wounded man could’ve gone. He walked a wide path to get a view. With one step to go, Mark dove to the ground, rolled, and came up on one knee ready to fire – but there was no target. A sound back by the deck made him drop to the ground as a bullet tore into his calf. He grunted in pain as fire shot up his leg.

  Mark couldn’t afford to let the wound distract him. From a prone position, Mark found the man wedged halfway under the deck.

  Both men fired one shot after another. When the bullets stopped, Mark wasn’t sure if it was because the other man was dead or, like him, had run out of bullets. The man’s head was down and looked bloody. The gun was still in his hand but his hand was on the ground. Mark couldn’t risk checking. And now, he heard cars approaching on the next street. It was time to run.

  With the bullet wound in his calf, running was painful. But if he got caught he would die, so he pushed the pain from his mind and ran for all he was worth. He crossed the street, hopped three fences, and crossed the next one. He kept repeating the move until he found himself on the road that bordered the eastern side of his subdivision. This street was wider and more traveled than the others; the houses were farther back from the road. Once across it, though, he would only be four blocks from home. He prayed the safe room hadn’t been compromised. His stomach knotted as a picture came to his mind of bodies strewn around the basement.

  No, I won’t think that.

  He looked to the right as a car passed on Erie Street. The gunfight had spurred a lot of activity all around him. If he stayed there, sooner or later he would be discovered. He darted across the street and flung himself over the first fence. It took another twenty minutes to get to his backyard and hide in the trees.

  Twelve

  The house looked the same from where he was, but Mark dared not approach until he was positive no one had followed him. He both longed for and feared what might await him in the basement. Thirty minutes later, he crawled out of his hiding place and advanced toward the house. As he drew near, he could hear the muffled rhythmic beating of the generator even from underground. He thought that was a good sign, but made a mental note to work on a way of deadening the sound.

  Once inside, he crept through the house and squatted at the front windows. The house was not ransacked, so either no one had been there or it was a trap. The street was deserted. He paused at the basement door and said a silent prayer that everyone was safe. The thick wooden steps made no sound as he descended. He held the rifle out in front of him, ready to shoot and run if he needed to. At the secret door, he gave the signal he had worked out with Darren.

  Mark reached up and pulled the panel back, but did not stand in the doorway. He was afraid someone might shoot him. Instead, he called out to the darkness.

  “Darren, it’s me, Mark.”

  A rush of movement startled him. Multiple voices exploded as one. Like magic, they were all right in front of him, grabbing him, hugging him, and yanking his arms to get him inside. They all talked at once. Darren hugged him hard. The reception, coupled with the relief he felt in seeing that they were alive, choked him u
p. Unable to speak for a moment, he scanned their elated faces and held up his hands for quiet. He couldn’t help but let a smile cross his face, mirroring theirs. It was good to have that emotional connection with someone again.

  His eyes met Lynn’s. This time, she didn’t look away. Tears welled in her eyes and he had a sudden urge to rush to her and hold her tight.

  One of the girls broke the spell. “We were so worried you wouldn’t come back.”

  “Okay, settle down and I’ll fill you in on what happened. First things first, though. Darren, you need to shut off the generator for a while, at least until I figure out how to make it quieter. We don’t need the noise leading them to us. We have to be very careful … they are all around us right now.”

  Mark walked back to the wall and made sure it was closed securely. One of the things he noticed when the door opened was how bad it smelled inside. There were entirely too many bodies in that small confined space. They would have to work on expanding the area and venting the air somehow.

  “Okay, is everyone here?” He looked around and ran through a quick checklist. “Okay, good. Is anyone hurt?”

  No one responded to that one. Lynn finally said. “Well, I guess Ruthie kinda twisted her ankle a bit when we were running through the woods. Other than that we’re all fine. Darren has been doing a great job of taking care of us.”

  One of the girls said in a meek voice, “We thought you were dead.”

  “Well, as you can see, the reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”

  That brought smiles. Mark went into selected details of everything that happened since he’d driven off. When he was done, he cut the questions short. “It’s been a very long night and day. I’m exhausted and starved.”

  Lynn gasped as Mark stood up. She pointed to his leg. “You’re hurt! You’ve been asking us if we’re okay and you’re the one who needs help.”

  The leg had a steady throb that he had been ignoring. Now that she pointed it out, it began to hurt anew. Mark dropped back to his seat as everyone crowded in close to get a look. Lynn ordered them back.

  “Darren, I know you must have a first aid kit around here. Get it for me,” she said. “The rest of you get back and give me some room to move.” She knelt in front of him and began pulling up the leg of his jeans to get a look. Mark winced as her fingers brushed the wound.

  “The pants are going to have to come off so I can see the extent of the injury. Do you know what caused it?”

  “A bullet.”

  A collective gasp sounded and they all stared at him.

  “Well, I’m not a doctor, but I was a nurse. I’ll do the best I can, but you understand if the bullet’s still in there it has to come out. That could be very painful. Then we’re going to have to worry about infection.”

  Darren came back with the kit.

  “Do you want me to do it or not?”

  Mark sighed. “Okay, but let’s do it in the basement where it won’t matter if we make a mess.” He stood up. “Check the kit and see what else you might need. Darren can find it for you. I’ll go get set up. The rest of you need to get some sleep.”

  Mark hooked up the monitors. “Darren, keep an eye on the screen. If you see anything, come get us.”

  Mark went out to the basement. He grabbed a chair and while he waited for Lynn, studying the walls to see where he could create space for the new members of his little tribe, without making it obvious that the basement had been shortened.

  He looked up as Lynn approached. She looked down at the items she had gathered for the surgery: tweezers, pliers, a utility knife, a bottle of whiskey, and towels. She’d pulled back her blonde hair and knotted it on top. Even in the dim light of the basement he found her attractive, in an understated way. As she glanced up and gave him a nervous smile, he noticed she had warm blue eyes.

  “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I can be.”

  “You need some help getting those jeans off?”

  He laughed but didn’t make the reply he might have under normal circumstances. He stood up and unbuckled his pants. Just before he let them drop he said, “By the way, my name’s Mark.”

  She laughed, “Making it official, since we’re getting so personal, you mean.” She knelt and helped him off with his shoes. He tried not to wince in front of her, but the pain had returned and was sharp. She pulled his jeans off the rest of the way. He held his breath. She looked up at him, her eyes now serious. “Wouldn’t you prefer to lie down?”

  Mark shrugged. “Would it be better for you?”

  “What would be better for me would be more light and having you lying up higher.”

  “We could go upstairs but if someone came, we would never make it back here. We’d have to lead them away from the kids.” He slid to the floor and propped his leg up on the chair.

  She shone a flashlight directly into the wound and used wipes and a spray disinfectant to clean the area. Lighting a match she held it under tweezers. “This is going to hurt.” She handed him a towel and he looked at her, confused.

  “Bite on it.” He frowned. She started to push the tweezers in then stopped. “Now,” she said, then came the pain. He bit the towel.

  Thirteen

  Mark rested the next two days. The kids took turns going upstairs and watching at the windows. Lynn’s children were Caleb and Ruth. Alyssa was the redhead. She and Ruth were classmates and friends. Twice they ran back with news that a car had driven past. Evidently the Horde still hunted for him.

  Lynn spent time checking the stores, preparing meals, and checking on Mark’s leg. Mark sat with pencil and paper, designing new living quarters. They would have to get out and scrounge more materials to build the room. The inactivity made him antsy. He tried to get up and walk, but each time the pain drove him right back down. He swallowed some prescription pain pills he’d collected and that eased the ache somewhat. Lynn also gave him some antibiotics he had in the storage room to help fight infection.

  On the third day, he forced himself to move despite the pain.

  “Don’t try to move too much,” Lynn warned. “I don’t want you tearing open my handiwork.”

  Frustrated, Mark’s tone sounded harsher than he intended. “There’s too much work to be done. I can’t just sit and do nothing.”

  Immediately, Lynn backed away and lowered her eyes, fear and pain on her face. Mark instantly regretted his words, confused by her reaction. “Lynn, it’s none of my business how things were for you and your kids before, but things are different now. It’s important you understand that.”

  Mark sat down and reached for her hand. She pulled it away.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I wasn’t yelling at you. I’m just frustrated about not being able to get things done. I’m falling behind schedule and with this many mouths to feed we’re going to have to step up collections. I’m not mad at you. You have a voice here. I value what you do and say. Okay?”

  She nodded, but wouldn’t look at him. Mark understood. It would take time for her to know and trust him. He would just have to show her that life could be different.

  “We’re in this together … as a team.” He turned to all of them. “We didn’t create this problem, but we do have to survive it. It may not be what you want or what you’re used to, but unfortunately it’s what we have. The best way to do that is to help and look out for each other.”

  He needed to make sure Lynn was on board as a partner, not as a servant. They were strangers, thrown together in an unusual situation, but he didn't want her to feel like an outsider. “Lynn,” he said her name to get her to look at him. “I’ll wait until tomorrow, but then we have to go out and start hunting for what we’ll need to live. Okay?”

  She seemed surprised that he had asked her. She studied him for a moment then nodded.

  For the rest of the day, Mark ran the generator so he could drill anchor holes in the concrete floors and walls. He could build a new wall the entire length of the back without drawing too
much attention to it. The space would only be four feet wide but forty feet long. Under his supervision, the kids unloaded the metal shelves lining the basement wall and moved the units forward. He didn't have enough wood to build the walls yet, so they did what they could.

  By the evening, they were exhausted. The meal Lynn prepared for them consisted of canned soup, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, carrot strips, and fried potatoes. With six mouths to feed, the stores would be depleted soon. They would have to expand their hunting grounds. With the scavengers out there, it would be difficult to move undetected.

  As they prepared for bed, Mark and Lynn discussed plans for the next day. “I’ll take the two boys with me to do some hunting. What I’d really like you and the girls to do is start planting a garden. I’ve been collecting seed packets and there should be enough there to produce enough fresh food to see us through for a while. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Our second greatest concern right now is running out of food and water. We’ll have to go on strict rations for a while. I’ll leave that in your hands.”

  “All right.”

  He wanted her to have input and not just feel like he was dictating to her.

  “If there is anything you can think of that would help or anything you want us to be looking for while we’re out collecting, let me know.”

  She nodded again. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something and thought better of it.

  “What? Tell me what you were gonna say.”

  She hesitated before blurting out, “I don’t think we should be separating jobs by boy/girl. I think we all should be doing everything.”

  Mark looked at her for a moment, pondering what she said. He had the feeling it took a lot of willpower to push the words out of her mouth. For that reason alone, he decided to side with her so she would know her opinions counted.