by J. P. Castle
“Here are the pictures of Bastian Ballentine, Ledger Thomas, and Caleb Cody. If anyone has seen these three teens, please contact authorities immediately so they can be tested. Thank you, General Given, always a pleasure,” said Erica.
Bastian reached up and closed the lid on the computer. He sat back and closed his eyes. “I’m ruined. My family name is ruined, or it will be when the country finds out what my dad created is poison. First, they said we’re wanted for questioning about the murder and disappearance of multiple soldiers, now we’re carriers, too. He should’ve cut his losses and let us go.”
“Bastian, Girard said your dad created the vaccine. Isn’t the vaccine Red Fang? Did your dad create Red Fang?” said Amir. “Is this all his fault?”
“Is he the reason our parents are dead?” said Timmy. “Please tell me that was all a bunch of lies.”
Bastian knew this day would come sooner or later—though he preferred later. Without saying a word or taking a moment to consider his father’s death, he rose and stepped outside. Angry faces who’d watched the broadcast on Youlie’s computer demanded answers.
Joaquin boldly walked up and snatched ahold of Bastian by the front of his shirt. “Man, did your dad kill our families? Is this some kind of sick joke . . . you pretending to be our friend?”
Bastian didn’t respond.
“Let him speak people,” said Mr. McCrady. “Bastian?”
“Parts of the news broadcast were true, other parts were complete lies,” said Bastian. “My dad has always worked for the CDC—saving lives, not destroying them, or killing people. That is the truth.
“As far as this virus is concerned, they forced him to make it. If he refused, they threatened to kill our entire family. The government was going to go through with their murderous plan one way or the other. That’s also the truth.”
“Is this why you tried to take care of us? Out of guilt?” said Joaquin.
“I can’t believe you honestly asked him that,” said Rani, standing on the left side of Bastian. “He didn’t have to do any of this. He could’ve left every one of you to die. To starve. To be murdered along with the rest. I was there when Bastian got the news about his dad a few days ago. He had NO IDEA of his dad’s involvement. And he was ALREADY taking care of us before he EVER had a clue. He could’ve just taken care of ME, and that’s it, leaving the rest of you to fend for yourselves.”
“Yeah,” said Bryce, “I found out about our dad the same time Bastian did. Our dad had no choice. We have a letter to prove it.”
Ledger cut in next. “Bastian explained it to me when we were at the old farmer's house. He didn’t have a clue like Bryce, and Rani said. The ONLY news today was that they’ve obviously killed his father and accused us of being carriers now, in addition to murderers. You can’t believe the lies they spew.”
Bastian didn’t speak; instead, he glued his eyes on the fire.
Troian repositioned herself to stand on the right side of Bastian. “You all realize he risked his life to go to New Hampshire for information that could possibly save us, right? They want us to hate him—to blame him—so we’ll turn him in, but we ARE NOT gonna fall into their trap. Everyone here owes him their life. We’d all be dead if it weren’t for his generosity and protection. None of these guys are carriers or murderers. That’s absurd.”
“What about the dead people. Girard’s obviously talking about the soldiers, but we only know of three in Breckenridge. The way he talks, there are more,” said Mateo. “Did you kill more people? Girard said, multiple cities.”
Bastian took a deep breath and decided to lay it all out there.
“Girard’s soldiers broke into my uncle’s house in New Hampshire. They shot him up with some serum, unaware he’d taken a cyanide capsule. He took the capsule to prevent them from finding out about a safe haven we may be able to take refuge at. They basically forced his death right before our eyes.
“My uncle killed two of them before he died. Other soldiers came in after and tried to kill us, but we got them first, all three of ‘em. And, for full transparency, I shot a man in Chicago that tried to kill me ‘n Troian when we went to her friend’s house to get everyone a new I.D.”
“That’s true,” said Troian. “Bastian did everything in his power to let the guy walk away, but he refused. Tried to kill us both. As far as the three soldiers in New Hampshire, all four of us helped kill them. I shot one of ‘em in the leg.”
“I shot one in the face,” said Ledger. “They would’ve killed us.”
“I played a whole other part,” said Rani. Her mind blazed. “Though I did blow one Hummer all to hell with a grenade I stole, off a dead soldier. I also murdered a pinball machine, stole an SUV, and one pair of cool sunglasses from an asshole pimp . . . FOR FULL TRANSPARENCY.”
“Bastian, why did you leave these details out?” said Amir.
“I left out the killing part because I didn’t want to alarm anyone. Some of you haven’t seen half of what we have out there. It’s ugly, and it’s about to get worse. Several of us have had to do things we never would’ve done. That’s the life we’ve been dealt now. I understand if any of you want to go your own way. I’ll give you some money if you decide to leave. But I haven’t killed anyone that wasn’t trying to kill one of you first, or me.”
Caleb made his way to the front to stand beside Bastian. He leaned on his walking stick to address the group. “That first night we came back, Bastian took the blame for killing a soldier. He didn’t even do it. I killed that man. I shot him in the back after he tried to strangle Bastian to death. And you all know what happened to the one in the R.V. You all have no idea what’s out there. None. Take a good look at me, and recognize at any moment, this could be you forced to kill someone or die.” Caleb turned to Bastian. “I’d never let you stand alone on this, brother.”
“Thanks, Caleb,” said Bastian. “I can make no excuses for my dad other than his hand was forced by the government to fix a problem they should’ve fixed years ago by much simpler, humane methods . . . like mandated birth control or sterilization. I also have no idea why they started with our town unless they were trying to erase my dad’s life for easy cleanup.
“And, there is one more thing, the government wants to chip everyone with a neurotransmitter that carries a lethal toxin. It was supposed to be for prisoners only, but I’ve been warned that that may not be the case. They want to keep track of everyone, all the time. If you step out of line, all they have to do is push a button to eliminate you. So, if I fall, I warned you.”
“I’m sticking with you, Bastian. I’m sorry I questioned you. You’re an upstanding person,” said Amir. “I’m sorry about your dad, about all of our parents, friends, and families. It’s clear the government is to blame here.”
Joaquin approached Bastian and gave him a man hug. “I’m sorry I snapped on you, bro. I should’ve allowed you to explain your side, first. I’m also sorry about your dad.”
Others in the group apologized.
“I have to say, I could never be prouder of you kids. You’re one heck of a group,” said Mr. McCrady.
Bastian went back into the R.V. and sat on the couch beside Bryce. “Our dad’s dead,” she said, fighting back the tears. “Girard’s not gonna stop until he kills us all. No more Father’s Day, birthday dinners, father-daughter dances. Do you think Girard killed him, or do you believe the monkey story?”
“Probably Girard, for revenge, to get in our heads. They were never going to let him go, we knew that. We have to stay strong and hope mom, Gabe, and Brock are still alive out there somewhere,” said Bastian, putting his hand on her back.
“What are you gonna do about Girard?” she said.
“He’s gonna pay. I promise if I’m alive, he’s gonna pay,” said Bastian.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Road Warriors
A DELUGE OF rain fell the next morning as the group prepared to pull out. “Today, we’re gonna try to make it to Vedauwoo. General Given won’t
give up his pursuit anytime soon. Getting out west is our best chance, but I can’t promise what we’ll encounter along the way,” said Bastian.
“We do need to hurry, Bastian. The news this morning said they are setting up random checkpoints to ensure interstate travelers are getting vaccinated. They encouraged people not to travel at this time,” said Amir.
“Great, just what we need,” said Bastian.
“He’s in a testy mood this morning,” said Rani. “Hardly touched me last night.”
“For good reason, he probably didn’t sleep well after finding out his dad died,” said Troian. “The whole nation’s hunting for him now, and if Girard catches us, we’re all dead.”
The group pulled onto Highway 20, which had an empty stillness to it. A few minutes down the road, black smoke rose steadily in the air.
“Correctionville,” said Troian. “There’s a small prison here.”
“What’s that smell?” said Rani, covering her nose.
“That’s the smell of burning bodies,” said Ledger. “I remember it from Thurman’s farm. It’s not a smell easily forgotten. Those must be some of the prisoners they executed with the vaccine.”
“Makes sense, I guess. If you’re gonna cull the herd, you wouldn’t want to keep the worst stock you have,” said Bastian. “When it’s all said ‘n done, do you really want those people to be some of the last ones living?”
Bastian drove on, down the desolate highway. A dirt bike popped up over the small hill behind the group in the wrong lane. The driver had a black helmet on with spiked Mohawk fringe in the center. He pulled up along the side of Bastian’s truck and motioned him to pull over. The man had an automatic weapon strapped to his back.
“You’re not gonna pull over, are you, Bastian?” said Rani.
Ledger studied the guy momentarily. “I can shoot out his tire, leave him far behind.”
“Yeah, but then we’d have to deal with all of his buddies,” said Bastian.
Everyone eyed ahead. Several dirt bikes and a couple of trucks blocked the roadway.
Bastian slowed, “Everybody, be cool.” Once stopped, he rolled down the window. “What’s up?” said Bastian.
“What’s up is . . . only rich yuppies like you are headed out of town, while the rest of us are stuck here. It’s time to pay the piper,” said the skinny man.
“Pay the piper?” said Bastian.
“No one passes through here without payment.”
“How much to pass?” said Bastian.
The man sized up the SUV, R.V., then the van. “Rich group like you, a hundred thousand or we can take the R.V., ‘n your women—which look mighty fine from what I can get a load of from here—we’ll take everything.”
“I don’t have a hundred thousand, man. How about ten thousand?” said Bastian, trying to avoid a fight.
“WHAT’S GOING ON up there?” said Caleb, pulling himself out of bed. He spied out the front R.V. window. “Oh shit. We’ve got trouble. I can tell from looking, this is not gonna go well. Bryce, get me my pants.”
“Caleb, you’re not in any shape to go out there. You’re not even healed yet.”
“Bryce, DO WHAT I SAID, right now. Hand me my boots, too.”
Caleb sat on the edge of the bed and slowly dressed, working through some residual pain.
“Caleb, please don’t go out there,” said Mr. McCrady. “I’ll go. Let me go.”
“Mr. McC, with all due respect, I love you, man. But do not move your ass from that driver’s seat unless bullets start flying. In that case, you all need to hit the deck,” said Caleb.
He pulled back the slide on his gun and handed it to Mr. McCrady. “There’s a round in the chamber, and it’s ready to fire. Anyone you don’t recognize tries to come through that door, shoot ‘em in the face without hesitation. Do you hear me? Don’t even try talking to them. You shoot them in the FACE.”
“Yes, yes, but surely we can sort this out without . . .”
“Look out there. Look at their weapons. Look around us, nothing. They’re killers. The world we knew is gone. Bastian’s pretty slick though, maybe he’ll work something out. Hey, Amir.”
“Yeah,” said Amir. “What can I do?”
“Bring me the other guns out of the bedroom. I may need you in here.”
“JOAQUIN, WHAT CAN you make out,” said Mateo. Joaquin pulled the van over about one foot to get a better view from the driver’s seat.
“Bastian’s talking to the dude that passed us by on the bike. There’s a roadblock. I don’t believe it’s the kind they were talking about this morning on the news either,” said Joaquin. “Do we have any guns in the back?”
“We can’t fight around the baby,” said Mazel.
“We may have no choice,” said Mateo. “Killers don’t care who they harm so long as it’s not their own, and half the time they don’t even care about that.”
“Here guys, I’ve got three pistols. That’s all I got back here,” said Timmy. “Can you all shoot?”
“Um, sort of,” said Joaquin, holding the gun awkwardly in his hand.
“What’s sort of dude?” said Timmy.
“Just because I’m black doesn’t mean I know my way around a gun. I’ve never been in a situation that required one, nor do I PUT myself in situations that require weapons of death. Man, I play football. I’m not a fighter. I’m big, but I’m no gunslinger,” said Joaquin.
“Give it to me,” said Lumen. “I can handle a gun. My dad was a policeman.”
Joaquin looked back at Lumen, noticing her light green eyes. He hadn’t paid much attention to her until now. Lumen, a small-framed, fifteen-year-old freshman at Summit High, carried a massive crush on Joaquin.
“Here then, I’ll do what I can to support you,” he said, handing her the weapon.
Lumen pulled the slide back; a round entered the chamber. She flipped the safety back on and set the weapon on her lap. “Mazel, take the baby out of the car seat and be ready to get on the floor with him,” she said. “Mateo, what about you, you ready?” said Lumen.
“I’ve only ever really shot a deer . . . once, but I’ll do my best. I shot some cans with my dad one other time.”
“Give me your gun, Mateo,” said Ginger Halliday. “My dad was military. You and Joaquin be prepared for hand to hand combat if they get in close. My long gun’s in the R.V.”
Mateo handed her the weapon without question. He knew he was strong, but certainly not confident in his marksmanship abilities.
“Timmy, you ready?” said Lumen.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” said Timmy.
THE DIRT BIKE driver fled off from Bastian, back toward the gang blocking the center of the road. “That must be the leader he’s talking to,” said Bastian. “Girls, get ready to lay low, in the floor. We are way outnumbered here.”
The dirt bike flew back down the road leaving a trail of dust behind it. “Johnny says he wants to talk to you.”
“Sorry, man, we’re on a tight schedule here. Please take the money I offered and let us through.”
The man aimed his weapon toward Bastian. “It’s not optional,” he said.
Bastian made quick eyes at Ledger in the rearview mirror. Ledger acknowledged, only moving his head about an inch.
Bastian edged the door open slowly. Ledger reached up and shoved Troian’s head toward the floor. “Rani, DUCK,” he yelled as he shot the guy through the helmet.
The man fell from his bike and into the road.
Bastian pulled his gun and leaped back toward the SUV. “Rani, get in the R.V. NOW! Troian, YOU TOO.”
Bullets flew all around. The windshield exploded out of the SUV first, then the R.V., which sat directly behind it at a higher level. Screams belted out as glass pelted into the living quarters of the R.V. Rani, Troian, Bryce, Ollie, and Mr. McCrady lay on the floor. Mr. McCrady kept the gun pointed at the door. Amir and Youlie hid under the dinette table. Caleb tried to return fire out the front window but couldn’t rack off one shot fo
r incoming bullets.
“Is this a shootout like in the movies?” said Ollie with his hands over his ears.
“Ollie, yes, keep your head down. Put your hands over your head like this,” said Rani. She laid her body over top of her younger brother in a protective manner.
Bastian and Ledger took cover behind the R.V., firing shots back toward the well-armed marauders. Two fell, as Bastian sprayed fire from the automatic weapon.
Ginger Halliday, Lumen, and Timmy exited the van, joining the firefight. Gang members on dirt bikes tried to flank the group, the buzz of the motors gave away their positions. Ginger struck one in the ribcage, causing him to hit a fence post. His body launched thirty feet through the air and onto the pavement.
ANOTHER BIKER RODE in from the right, firing shots toward the van. His bullets pierced the metal frame, causing baby Ezra to whale from the noise. Mazel held his head taught against her chest while she huddled on the floor with him. Glass sprayed all over them. Mazel felt the tiny pieces landing in her hair. Lumen knew if he hit the high celled battery, the engine could explode with her friends inside.
She fired her last bullet, grazing the man’s leg. He lost control of the dirt bike and landed in the field. Lumen saw him drop his automatic weapon. She sprinted full throttle toward the gun to retrieve it before he did.