Two Wolves and a Sheep: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Minus America Book 4)

by EE Isherwood

  “Playing a hunch.”

  The light moved closer, and at an angle, like it was heading for Fort Collins. He was positive it was a search plane. Properly motivated, he got the truck back up to fifty-five miles-an-hour on the farming road. To his relief, it took them toward the windmill.

  “Here we go,” he said with a dramatic touch as he went over a gentle rise in the land. “Dammit!” Ted had expected a house to be close to the windmill, but there was nothing but more farmland and a stand of trees far to the back.

  “Ted, there’s a house ahead. Look.”

  It was hard to see in the low light, and he’d purposefully kept the headlights off, but she was right. The gravel road continued past the spinning tower, which had a water trough below it, and went toward the house.

  The aircraft continued to get closer. By coincidence, his path toward the farmhouse took them closer to the flight path of the plane, though it was still miles away. He didn’t dare stop.

  “When we get there, I want you to take over the wheel. I’m going to hop out.”

  “Hop out?” she exclaimed. “Where are you going?”

  There wasn’t time to explain. They approached the trees and were rewarded with the sight of a proper farmhouse, complete with corrugated steel outbuildings and a small barn. Any of them would do as a hiding place, but he aimed for the main house and its garage. “Here we go.”

  Instead of using the brakes and lighting up the brake lights, he kept his foot off the pedal as he neared their hiding spot. He let off the gas, too, then jammed the shifter down a gear. As it lost some momentum, he downshifted again. Finally, he threw it into low gear, which lurched the truck to a walking pace. When it was close enough to a stop, he put the shifter in park and jumped out. He prayed Emily would take over for him.

  Ted gripped the garage door and attempted to lift. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Shit!” he blurted, panic lurking.

  He ran to the other one, but it wouldn’t move, either.

  Looking to the sky, the light was still there and moving closer. They had less than a minute or two, at best, before it would be overhead. He thought about driving the truck around the side, so it wasn’t in the direct line of sight, but if it was a search plane, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  “Don’t move!” he yelled to Emily, who sat at the wheel.

  He hopped on the porch and ran to the front door, sure it would be locked.

  It was.

  “Screw this!” He picked up a medium-sized potted plant and hefted it into the front window. It broke through with a sickening crash, and he charged through the small hole after it.

  Scrambling over the broken glass and into the darkened home, he found his way to the kitchen and the thing he needed most: the inside entry to the garage. He went through, reached left and right, frantically searching for the automatic garage door opener button. When he found it, the unit wasn’t operational. The power was out.

  He ran into the empty garage, pulled at the emergency release cord hanging down from the track of the door opener, which let it slide free. This allowed him to manually lift the door as if the automatic opener wasn’t there. The second he saw Emily’s face, he waved her inside.

  “Hurry!”

  Ted went back inside before she’d entered the garage. He’d never faced a situation remotely like the one he was in, but he’d been trained to think ahead. If the aircraft was looking for them, he had to do everything in his power to throw it off the scent.

  He opened the freezer door. The power was off, but the inside was still cold, with frozen products up and down the shelves. He grabbed as much as he could carry, and also pulled off the bin holding ice cubes.

  As he walked into the garage again, he probably looked hilarious to Emily. She gave him a sideways glance. “What are you doing?”

  “Pop the hood!”

  “What?”

  “Pop the hood!” he repeated, moving his supplies toward the truck.

  She did as requested.

  “Close the garage door!” he added, throwing the frozen food onto the engine. He poured the ice as close to the engine manifold as possible. Then, without waiting to see the results, he ran back into the kitchen.

  The door was closed the next time he came out. He threw a frozen chicken, a big lasagna dish, and bags of corn into the engine bay.

  “What in the name of God are you doing?” Emily asked, finally catching up to him.

  “Help me! Find some water. Pour it on there.”

  Ted ran headlong into the kitchen again, thinking how he wished they had a few extra minutes to put some cold items in the back of the truck to cover the exhaust system. The plane was probably already on top of them—

  He caught sight of the woman’s dress on the linoleum floor a fraction of a second too late. His foot hit it perfectly, acting like a banana peel and sending him flying off his feet.

  His whole world went black.

  NORAD Black Site Sierra 7, CO

  After being shown what was going to happen to her if she crossed David again, Charity took Tabby to a different part of the complex. It still looked like an office building interior, but the doors weren’t open cages, like the prison cells. For that, she was grateful. However, when Charity knocked on the wooden door, she was disappointed at who answered.

  Victor.

  The redhead smiled profusely. “Look who I brought back for you.”

  The tall young man smiled, but Tabby recognized the fake sentiment behind his glassy eyes. He wasn’t happy to see her.

  “I’ll leave you two to it. Remember your lessons, Tabitha.” Charity’s smile was a mile wide, as if sure she’d been put in her place. She strode off with a pair of guards in tow.

  She was left alone with Victor. “Can I come in?”

  He stood back from the door. “Sure.”

  Once inside, he closed it, making her feel like a lab rat trapped in a terrible experiment. To counter the feeling, she looked around for a place to sit. There wasn’t much in the repurposed office. A small cot sat against the far wall. A green cook stove was open on a cheap folding table close by. A pair of office chairs were the only places to sit, so she hopped on the one furthest from the stove.

  Victor remained on his feet. “They said you were coming back, which is great, but I don’t understand why you left. Was it something I said?”

  She almost felt sorry—no, she refused to feel sorry for him. Sure, he seemed nice enough, but his entire reason for being there was to be assigned a wife in this weird new country currently strangling the remains of her America. Still, to get what she wanted, a certain level of compassion was required. “Would it make a difference if I said it was me, not you?”

  He brightened. “But you’re perfect. I couldn’t have picked a better companion if I had the catalogue of homesteaders to choose from.”

  She was taken aback. “A catalogue? You actually have a book of potential wives?”

  “And husbands. It works both ways. We all get to make a few choices, in order of preference, then the Legion makes the final decision. I came up short from being matched, originally, due to some deaths during transit. When you showed up, it was like a gift from David. He really knows how to pick them.”

  She thought back to how David said he’d watched her on the TV broadcast back in St. Louis. Was he blowing smoke about why he’d selected her to survive? She fought back the feeling of flattery at being picked for her beauty at all. She’d never considered herself top-shelf boyfriend material. She worked in a mine, after all. But having men talk about her as a catch was as image boosting as it was disgusting.

  Tabby stood up, getting angry. “Well, for your information, I didn’t sign up for any of this. Me and my friends came here against our will. They’re still being held prisoner by your people. I want no part of your homesteading whatever.” She had no interest in touching his cot, so she went into the opposite corner and sat on the carpet.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly
.

  She put her head down and closed her eyes, willing him to leave her alone. As the minutes passed, and he puttered around his small pad, she dozed off.

  Seemingly seconds later, her eyes popped open. The lights were low. Victor snored in his bed. A blue light cast a dim aura through the room, giving her enough to see her way around.

  “Sorry, friend,” she whispered as she unlatched the door. “But I’d rather die than be assigned to someone.”

  In seconds, she was outside Victor’s apartment. The lights of the hallway were set to about half brightness. She figured this was to simulate nighttime while inside the mountain. Whatever it was, it made her feel as if she was sneaking through the darkness.

  While she’d been marched around the complex, she’d been keeping track of the twists and turns, much as she would when learning new passages inside the Bonne Terre mine. She was proud of her navigation skills when she saw the elevators. Based on her conversations with David and Charity, the elevator would take her far into the earth, or up to the surface. They didn’t appear to have key codes or any type of security, but there were two guards standing by the doors, much closer than the pair who’d let her slip by near the EXIT door.

  “It’s night. Go to sleep,” she mumbled in their direction.

  Tabby waited at the bend in the tunnel for several minutes, praying the two guards would find other things to do besides wait there. However, as time dragged on, and the possibility someone would approach from behind her kept increasing, she began to believe her escape plan would have to wait for another time. As much as it sucked, she’d have to go back to Victor’s place and wait it out…

  A second before giving up, someone placed a hand across her mouth.

  She reacted by squirming on her feet—heart in her throat, ready to fight back—but the person was larger than her and able to hold her still before she could land a blow. Tabby couldn’t scream, either; she didn’t want the guards to find her.

  “Shhh,” the man cautioned.

  It was Victor.

  CHAPTER 16

  Wheatland, WY

  Kyla and Meechum walked well into the night. They used the creek bed as cover, and the water itself as a means of hiding their footprints and scents, on the assumption someone would be searching for them. However, when the little creek met a larger stream, they chose to walk a game trail along the bank. Hours after they’d started, they emerged from the trees at the edge of an open area.

  “Are we back in the grasslands?” she asked, tired from all the walking she’d done since the cabin. “Because I’m going to throw up if we are.”

  The Marine halted. “No, it’s a lake.”

  She looked again. The half-moon cast enough light to see the body of water. Her eyes had expected grass, so the mistake was easy to make. “Did we circle around to the lake with the cabin?”

  Meechum laughed. “Are you serious? That’s forty klicks north of here.”

  She wasn’t in the mood. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”

  “It’s all right. Let’s take a short break.”

  Kyla fell to the ground, relieved. Traveling with a Marine had its advantages in land navigation, ambush surveillance, and general security, but it came with a heavy price. Breaks weren’t in Meechum’s vocabulary.

  She twisted onto her back, moving to take in a view of the stars. Living under the lights of the big cities back home, the night sky was seldom noticed. As she caught her breath and picked out stars here and there, Kyla wondered if God was watching her from beyond the universe. If so, maybe it was time to ask for a helping hand. Her emotions got the best of her as she tried, and failed, to think up a prayer. A lone tear rolled down her cheek, and she closed her eyes to prevent more from falling…

  “Welp. Let’s roll out.” Meechum sounded fresh, almost excited, to get moving again.

  Kyla had enough time to thank God for sending the strong warrior woman. For the umpteenth time, she wondered what she’d be doing if Meechum hadn’t been the one to kick her in the face by way of an introduction.

  Yeah, I guess God does work in mysterious ways.

  “I’m up,” she said, fighting the sound of weariness in her voice.

  They walked along the bank of the lake for another half-hour. A faint light appeared on the eastern horizon, signaling a new day. Kyla couldn’t believe it. “Have we been walking all night?”

  Meechum chuckled. “You fell asleep when we took a break. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. I could tell you really needed some rack time, so I gave you an hour.”

  “An hour?” It put them even further behind Uncle Ted. Her heartbeat woke up. “We have to find a car, Meech. I want to get to the south, you know? We can’t stop!” Belatedly, she wondered if the other woman ever closed her eyes.

  “I know. I’m walking the shore of this lake assuming we’ll find a boat ramp or the car of a fisherman. I’m certain a body of water this size will have at least one vehicle to take. Probably many.”

  She looked out on the lake, now appearing in a gray light rather than solely moonlight. It was a few miles long, and about half that wide. The woman’s logic was sound about finding fishermen’s vehicles, so she got moving again. “If there’s more than one car, I’m going to search them all for a charger. I—”

  Meechum pulled her sideways into the brush.

  “What the?” she hissed, shocked.

  “Shh!” the Marine insisted.

  As they lay there in the weeds, she heard a car door quietly close.

  The hand came off her mouth. Meechum shifted toward the base of a small tree with gnarly bark. She looked one way, then behind them. Finally, after a long pause, she came back over to her. “There’s someone ahead.”

  “Did they track us down?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know, but I think they’re behind us.” Meechum looked toward the lake. “We might have to go for a swim…”

  Kyla already had the rifle in her hands, as did the other woman. She tried to sound confident. “Can we fight our way out?”

  Meechum’s teeth glowed in the moonlight. “I like your style, but there are too many. They—”

  A man’s voice spoke loudly. “We hear you out there. Come on in!”

  They both froze.

  Kyla was ready for a fight, no matter what, but Meechum seemed torn. The Marine searched the area as if she’d lost her way.

  “What are you looking for?” Kyla whispered.

  “There’s no good cover here.” She sighed deeply. “I’ll tell you what. Hold yourself by this tree. Do not, under any circumstances, fire your weapon or make a sound. Do you understand? Remember, my job as a United States Marine is to protect you at all costs. You have to do this for me, all right?”

  “Sure. Yeah. I’ll hold my fire. But what are you going to do?” She expected her to say suicide charge, or to pull out a hidden grenade—whatever a badass Marine would do when faced with overwhelming odds.

  “Don’t friggin’ move. You got it?”

  Kyla repeated herself, a bit annoyed at being talked down to like she couldn’t follow directions. “Yeah.”

  Meechum crawled to a nearby tree, then slid onto the more exposed bank closer to the water. In moments, she was out of sight, though her footfalls on the rocks were distinct for several seconds.

  What followed were the two least-expected words Kyla had ever heard from the tough never-say-die Marine.

  “I surrender!”

  Fort Collins, CO

  When Ted opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure of anything. It was nearly pitch dark, though a hint of light outlined his companion. A pretty woman was above him, possibly floating. Her locks fell to each side of her face, though she cocked her head a bit to see him out of one eye. She put her finger to her mouth.

  “Shh.”

  His eyes swirled in their sockets, then came back into focus. It was Emily. She was indeed over him because he was on the floor. He’d fallen…

  “Em?”


  She crinkled her nose. “Do you even know what shush means?” After chiding him, she leaned away, revealing dark rafters on the ceiling. He was no longer in the kitchen of the farmhouse. He didn’t know how he’d gotten there, but it had to be the basement.

  Outside, the faint sound of a whining drone engine caught his attention. There was a good reason why she’d shushed him. The enemy was snooping around.

  He shifted on the cement floor while expanding his thought process. Did he get enough cold items on the engine block to cool and shield it from heat-sniffing machines? Did Emily finish what he’d started? Were the bad guys closing in on them, ready to hang them for their part in the tanker truck explosion? Ted had a million questions, but he respected the shush.

  She helped him sit up and lean against the wall. Emily crouched to speak in his ear. “You’ve been out for a couple of hours. Personally, I think you used this time to take a nap.” She giggled, obviously anxious to take the edge off the bad news.

  “Hours…” he replied, rubbing the back of his head. Distantly, he thought about having a concussion, but there was no time for injuries. Ted swallowed hard, staying focused on the whirring blades in the skies outside. “Did you follow my instructions for the truck?”

  “I did. It’s a wet mess out there after I poured milk, orange juice, and gallons of water into the motor. I hope the truck still works.” She listened for a moment, before adding, “Once I had it all done, I dragged you down the stairs so we would be shielded ourselves. I brought the guns, and our supplies, fearing we might be down here for a while.”

  “Good work,” he said, realizing he could let go of a little of his body’s tension. “I have to see what’s out there. Can I stand up?”

  She laughed, “I don’t know. Can you?”

  It took him a minute to get to his feet, and it reminded him of waking up after a long, unplanned nap in an uncomfortable chair, but he eventually got himself vertical. Emily helped him a bit but let go when he was good.

  She motioned him toward one of the small windows high on the wall. When he arrived, she sidled up next to him again. “I’ve been watching to see if they’re using grid patterns, like you taught us to look for, but I haven’t been able to tell. Since we got here, I’ve seen at least three different drones go by. One even had a little light it used to illuminate the yard.”