The Ungovernable

by Franklin Horton

He dragged the man around back and went through his pockets. Sara took his shotgun, checked the chamber, and kept watch around corner.

  “You get this one, Gary,” Jim said, pointing at the second man he shot. “I’ll get the one around the far corner.”

  Gary crouched over the dead man, picking up his hunting rifle and slinging it over his back. He frisked the body, finding a Ruger 9mm in his belt and a pocket full of loose rounds for both weapons. Gary hesitated at shoving his hand into the blood-drenched pocket so he slit it open with his folding knife and scooped out more rifle rounds, shoving them into his own pocket.

  Jim flattened himself against the wall and moved toward the first man he’d shot, the one with the bat. He found a hefty .357 magnum and one speed loader containing more rounds. The guy had a black-handled Buck knife on his belt. Jim wouldn’t leave a knife behind but had no interest in unbuckling the dead man’s belt. He cut the belt loose, taking knife and sheath both, shoving them in the cargo pocket of his pants.

  The direction of their attacker’s voices changed, as did the rate of fire. They were moving. That meant they were coming for them. They needed to wrap this up and get the hell out of there. Jim made a cursory pat-down of the shirt pockets and found a folded rectangle of Day-Glo green paper. He unfolded it, seeing the word “wanted” in bold, block letters, but was interrupted by the clatter of hooves on the pavement behind him.

  “We have to go, Jim,” Gary said, fear and urgency in his voice. “I think they’re getting ready to rush us.” His family had already mounted their horses and were ready to ride.

  Jim jumped to his feet and shoved the folded paper into his pocket.

  At a sudden barrage of gunfire the horses skittered. Sara made a panicked sound and grabbed Will tightly. He yanked the reins, trying to regain control of the horse.

  “That way!” Jim said. “Keep this building between you and the shooters. My horse is over that bank. I’ll meet you at the road.”

  They dug their heels into their horses and scurried toward the back of the parking lot, passed the dumpster, and disappeared over a shallow embankment. Jim followed, not wanting to expose himself to gunfire by taking the most direct route to where he’d left his horse tied. He ran behind Gary’s family, then angled away to his horse tied in the woods. In less than a minute he was mounted and galloping to catch up. They couldn’t ride nearly as fast as he could with two of them on each horse.

  He cut them off at the intersection, just before they were to turn in the direction of the river crossing. “I’m afraid to go that way. We gave them too much time. They’ve probably got a trap set. They know we’ll go that way and they’ll cut us down.”

  "Then what do we do?" Debra asked.

  "We cross somewhere else,” Jim said. “There’s another shallow crossing but it’s harder to get to."

  "Where?" Gary asked.

  Jim pointed in the opposite direction. "The river widens out about a half mile in that direction. It’s rocky so we’ll have to be careful. Let your horse set the pace."

  “Then let’s go,” Gary said. “I’ll feel better when I get that river between us and them.”

  “It’s only water,” Jim said. “It won’t stop them if they’re determined.”

  Jim nudged his horse into a trot, the fastest pace they could maintain with the rest of them riding double. It would have to be fast enough. Remembering the piece of paper in his pocket, Jim dug it out. His curiosity was nagging at him. After seeing the word “wanted” printed so boldly, he assumed it might be a list of things that people needed.

  He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  He unfolded the paper and his gut knotted. He was confronted with a grainy but terrifying image. A familiar face stared back at him.

  His own face.

  It took him a moment to put the image into the context. Where had he been that he would have been dressed in such a manner? Then he recalled. It was at the power plant on the night they attacked it. He’d been trapped in the frigid, rising water and was at risk of hypothermia. He’d entered one of the heated buildings and shed his clothes to warm up.

  The picture, mercifully, only showed him from the chest up, but he was certain he’d been walking nude through the corridors of the control room when the image was captured. It had to have been from a security camera. That same camera would likely have caught him killing the NATO guards just seconds later.

  He reined his horse to a stop. Below the image bold letters proclaimed:

  WANTED FOR DOMESTIC TERRORISM

  THE BOMBING OF A FEDERAL ENERGY INSTALLATION

  AND THE MURDER OF TROOPS ACTING UNDER THE AUTHORITY

  OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT.

  REWARD OFFERED FOR LIVE CAPTURE ONLY

  Reward of one year supply of food for a family of four;

  One thousand rounds of 9mm ammunition;

  And one thousand rounds 5.56 ammunition.

  Reward may be collected at your local high school football field

  On the afternoon of the 4th of July.

  Build a signal fire to attract our attention.

  Tie the prisoner to the goal post.

  Once we have landed and confirmed his identity,

  The captors will receive their reward immediately.

  Happy Hunting!

  "What is it?" Gary asked, catching up with Jim.

  Wide-eyed and pale, Jim handed the flyer over to Gary. He held it so that Debra could lean around him and read it.

  "Was today about you, Jim?" Debra asked. "Did they attack us because of you?"

  Gary shook his head. "I don't think so. They didn’t know Jim would be there. It was probably about the horses. That’s why they went for Will." He finished reading the flyer and handed it off to Will and Sara.

  "They might have remembered you were with Jim before," Debra said. "From when you guys came through with Randi."

  Jim shrugged. “It’s possible but I’m thinking it was about the horses.”

  "Where did they even get that flyer?" Gary asked. “It’s on some weird kind of paper. Like waterproof map paper or Tyvek.”

  No one answered her because no one even had the vaguest idea.

  “We need to get moving,” Jim said. He took the flyer from Will’s outstretched hand, folded it, and tucked it back into his pocket.

  A few hundred yards later Jim dismounted and used a multitool to cut a high-tensile fence. He continued on, leading his horse down over a bank and into a thicket of saplings and blackberry bushes. The rest fell in behind him. He led the horse with one hand, the other firmly wrapped around the grip of his rifle. They ended up on a narrow cow path that followed along the river.

  "Hold up," Sara whispered.

  The group came to a stop, expecting she had a rock in her shoe or had snagged herself on a vine but she was crouching by the river.

  "What is it?" Gary asked.

  She stood, a soggy sheet of waterproof map paper in her hand. She shook it off and held it up for the others to see. It was another copy of Jim’s wanted poster. Before they reached their crossing, they found nearly a dozen more.

  "How the hell did they get down here?" Will asked.

  Gary, an amateur pilot, had an idea. "I would guess they did an airdrop. They scattered them from a plane or chopper."

  "Dammit,” Jim muttered. “That means they’re everywhere. We have no chance of containing this.”

  “If they chose to saturate the area surrounding the power plant there could be hundreds of thousands of these floating around, based on how many we’re finding here,” Gary said, the gravity of that weighing on him.

  "We’re going to have to tighten shit up," Jim said. "We got slack this winter about manning gates and guard posts. When people quit coming around, we quit watching for them. They'll start coming again. I don't know how long these damn things have been floating around but someone will eventually recognize me. There are people in town who know where I live.”

  "None of us will be safe," Debra sa
id. It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of cold, hard fact.

  "This just proves it. We need to get out of this valley. We need to go back home," Sara said, tearing up. “Our own homes.”

  "We can't go home," Debra said, her voice stern, her jaw clenched. "It's not safe."

  "It's not safe here!" Sara replied, shrill, nearly hysterical.

  "Stop it! Calm down. We don't do anything yet," Gary said. "We were only able to move all our possessions to this valley because we basically stole a truck and the fuel to get it here. We can't do that again. If we have to leave the valley it will only be with what we can carry on our backs. Are you prepared to live that way?"

  "Surviving out of a pack is not feasible for most families," Jim said. "It's a prepper fantasy."

  "Then what the hell do we do?" Sara demanded.

  "We go home because that’s all we can do for now. Then we figure this shit out," Jim said. He stalked off, tugging at the reins of his horse.

  After a tense, silent walk, they were able to mount up and cross the river. On the far shore, Jim guided them up into the woods and they traversed the ridge, protected by the concealment of the hardwood forest. Though most of the trees were not fully green, they broke up the profile of the riders.

  Perhaps a half hour later they breached the last gap and the valley opened up before the riders. Clinch Mountain rose boldly to their right, the shoulders steep and the spine straight as a board. Knowing this was the point where radio reception in the valley began, Jim pulled his from a pouch on his vest and powered it up. “Ellen, can you hear me?"

  Jim was forced to repeat the message three times, unsure if her failure to respond was due to poor reception or the fact that she often wandered around without her radio. He’d lectured her about it and she didn’t take it well. It usually ended with her giving him a lecture right back about all the things he did that bothered her. It was a long list.

  "Jim! This is Ellen. You okay?"

  "Are Pete and Charlie nearby?" he asked, ignoring her question.

  "They’re in the barn skinning something they caught in their snares this morning."

  "Can you get them in there with you? I need them to do something immediately."

  "What's wrong?"

  "I don’t have time to explain it twice. Get them now.”

  He lowered the radio to his chest, waiting on her to return. He saw worry on the faces of the people in his group. This short trip had frazzled them. Taking rounds had a way of doing that to a person. In less than minute she was back.

  "I got them. We’re all here.”

  "Put Pete on.”

  "What is it, Dad?”

  "Pete, I need you to listen to me very carefully. We ran into a little trouble in town. We’re all safe and we’re headed into the valley now, but we need to close our defenses up tight. Load up with all your sentry gear and get to the observation post near Buddy’s old house. Stay there until you hear from me. Your job is to let us know if anyone approaches that gate. You got it?"

  "I got it, Dad. Is Charlie supposed to go with me?"

  "No. I need Charlie on the gate near Gary's house. Same deal. He’ll need all his sentry gear, but put him on a horse so he can get down there faster. I don’t know for certain we’ll get any trouble but I don't want any gates unattended. Any questions?"

  When neither boy had any, Ellen got back on the radio. "What's this about Jim?"

  "This is not the time, Ellen. I don’t know who might be listening. I'll tell you when I get there. Can you help get those boys on the road?”

  "I’ll do it," Ellen said. “Are you close?”

  "About twenty minutes out. Make sure you’re wearing your gun. Keep everyone but the boys close to home."

  "Okay, Jim. I guess I’ll see you when you get here.” Her tone revealed that she was not happy with the lack of information. They weren’t talking on any high-tech secure radios, though. These were thirty dollar radios from the superstore. Anyone could be listening. Jim shoved the radio back in the pouch on his vest.

  "I guess things have to go back to the way they used to be when we first moved to the valley. When we wore guns all the time and lived in fear." It was Debra speaking and it was not a question. It was merely a comment on the state of things, her thinking out loud and confirming all their own gnawing feelings.

  “Will, when we reach the woods, do you mind manning the observation post there?” Jim asked. Of all the roads, this would be the worst to leave unattended. It was the most direct route between their homes and the angry folks they’d just done battle with.

  "Why Will?" Sara asked, not wanting to part with her husband.

  "We need to have an emergency meeting when we get back to the valley,” Jim said, trying to be patient. “I need representatives from every family. Anybody we can spare needs to be manning an outpost."

  "Can I stay with him?" she asked.

  She was asking Jim but it wasn't his decision to make. "I don't care," he replied. “That's between you, your husband, and your parents.”

  When she expressed her desire a second time, Sara did not phrase it as a question. She’d made up her mind and was merely informing them of her decision. "I'm staying with Will," she told her parents.

  Jim watched Gary, watched the concerned father cue up a response, a list of all the reasons she couldn't remain behind. Before he could put voice to them, Debra responded to her daughter.

  "That’s fine, honey. You do what you need to do."

  It clearly wasn’t fine with Gary. He looked at his wife like she’d grown a second head. The experiences they’d had since the collapse hadn’t exactly turned her into someone different, as it had with many others, but it had given rise to a new pragmatism within her. It was tough for him to accept that his daughter was a grown woman and had every right to make her own decisions. She would be his little girl until the day he died. That fact was an uncontested truth of nature.

  "Do you two have a radio?" Jim asked.

  Will tore back the Velcro flap on a belt pouch and extracted his radio, holding it up for Jim to see.

  "Power it up and let’s test it."

  Will did as he was as he was asked and they tested the radio. The group rode a short distance further and stopped at a heavily forested section. Will and Sara pulled off from the group and dismounted. A few feet away, a log observation post was camouflaged into the edge of the forest.

  "This isn't the Alamo,” Jim said. “I don't need you trying to make some last stand if you see people coming from town. No dramatics, no hero shit. Get us on the radio. If they get close and you can’t scare them off, pull back. Your main function is detection and early warning."

  The pair nodded somberly.

  "You guys good on ammo?" Gary asked.

  It hit Jim that the question was phrased as if he were simply a dad asking his daughter if she and her date needed some extra money for the movies. How times had changed. The world had changed.

  The pair pulled out their magazines to see how many rounds they’d fired. It was easy to lose count during battle, not even realizing how many times you changed magazines. Wanting to make doubly sure they had plenty of firepower, Gary handed over four full AR mags and two thirty-three round Glock mags.

  Will held up the long 9mm stick mag curiously. “Will this even fire from my pistol?”

  “Yes. It will stick out the bottom a little.”

  “A little?” Will asked, eyebrow raised.

  “Okay, a lot, but those are my last resort mags. When things are hot and you’re just laying down fire, they’re perfect for that.”

  Will and Sara exchanged a look. It was the same expression millions of kids have given parents when they did something that children thought was ridiculous.

  Sara tied their horse off near some grass to a short lead hanging from a nearby branch just for that purpose. Will hustled around adding fallen branches to the front of the shelter, improving the camouflage where it needed touching up.

  Ji
m, Debra, and Gary said their goodbyes and pulled away, though Jim could tell Gary’s heart was not in it. He wanted to stay. They trotted their horses toward Jim’s house while he worked his radio. By the time he neared his home he’d managed to contact someone from every family associated with their tribe, explaining that they needed to have an emergency meeting and everyone should have a representative there.

  Despite the crushing workload facing each family, all agreed to send someone. This excluded about a half-dozen families in the valley who had little or no interaction with Jim’s group. He felt like they should be part of this but they’d shunned his efforts to be part of the group. None of them had ever participated in the valley’s radio chatter, even though Jim had left messages in their mailboxes explaining the procedure. He wasn’t going to be pushy. He understood people wanting their privacy and he was trying to respect their wishes.

  "I've got a bad feeling about this," Gary repeated several times. "A damn bad feeling."

  Gary rarely swore. Him emphasizing a statement with a “damn” nearly carried the same tone of finality as a judge slamming his gavel on the bench or a pastor saying amen at the end of a prayer. It carried weight. It lent a seriousness to his words as if the very future of this entire valley had been pronounced by an oracle.

  16

  When they reached Jim’s yard, his entire family was waiting on him. The only exception was Pete, who’d already headed off toward the observation post near the house Lloyd was currently living in.

  "What's going on?" Ellen demanded before he was even off his horse. She didn’t like being put off on the radio, being left to wonder. There were too many truly awful possibilities in their world anymore. Then, noticing the absences among the group, her eyes widened. "Where's Will and Sara? Are they okay?"

  "They're fine, Ellen," Debra assured her. "We dropped them off at the observation post on the way in. They’re watching the road to town."

  Ellen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What's going on that you needed to leave them there?" There was a tinge of panic in her voice. Things had been going so well since the battle at the power plant. She’d had a fantasy of a nice quiet summer where the worst would be behind them. Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why was the world conspiring against them?