Aftermath of Disaster: Book 3 Summer's End Read online

  Carla looked at Jay and raised her weapon. Jack stopped his horse and fired twice. Carla’s head pitched backward. She fell before getting a shot off. Robin took out two armed men. Diane had reached her target. She took him out in one shot.

  Ralph took aim at a rifleman that had stepped out from behind the church. He squeezed the trigger of his Winchester 308 with a gentle touch. The man bucked back and into a tree. His body slid down the trunk, blood rushed from his chest.

  Within seconds, any foe with a weapon was dead, dying, or had run away. They collected the weapons and heard the call over the radio, “Contact. Key Bank.”

  Jack said, “Diane, Mark, and Ralph come with me and Morton to get the husband. Everyone else, run to the meetup location.”

  JR got on the radio and asked for positions. The Packwood group was at the Country Market and told JR to approach from behind the car dealer, to avoid crossfire. Everyone heard the shooting, guns are out, everyone is on edge. Approach with caution.

  Jack and crew were a block away from the car dealer when they got the message. At 3rd, they cut across the lawn and headed for the back corner of the building. From there, they could see the rest of the scavengers.

  They slowed down and stopped about ten yards from the street. The scavengers were outnumbered 4-1, and the fear in their eyes was evident even from a distance.

  “It’s time to get this party started,” Jack said in a low voice. Then he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “We have Jay and he’s with his mother now. Your friends are in bad shape because they wouldn’t listen to reason. I hope you’re smarter than them. We’ve come for Mark and his friend. Turn them over and we all walk away. What’s your friend’s name, Mark?”

  Mark was shaken but managed a “Patrick” with a bit of a stutter. Jack knew the answer, of course. His goal was to point Mark out to everyone else. Mission accomplished. In a wise move, Patrick raised his hand and waved.

  One of the scavengers took a step forward. He was a short man, bald, and around 35 years old. He didn’t have the charisma to be a leader, Jack thought. The short man said “We can’t let you do that. His son ran, there’s a price to pay for runners and he’s going to pay that price.”

  Jesus, Jack thought, why does everyone think they can defy the odds? “Look around you. You’re outmanned, outgunned, and your friends are dead. You can’t win. We’d rather everyone walks away but do not test us.”

  Just then, another man walked out of the bank. The short guy doing the talking stepped back. The new guy was tall, at least 6’5”. He looked to be mid 50’s with shoulder-length gray hair. He wore a black steampunk hat that made him look even taller. In his hand, a chrome-colored .45 caliber revolver. The tall man walked up behind Mark Clark. He’s got the looks of a leader, Jack thought, I hope he’s got the brains too.

  “Congratulations,” the man said. “You got the boy. But this one isn’t going anywhere. The penalty for running is your loved one dies. He’s going to pay the price for his son running off.”

  “You could do that, then you all die. If it makes you feel better, Jay didn’t run. We took him.” Jack scanned left to right and spread his arms wide.

  “Once again, look around. If you shoot Mark, this will not end well for you.”

  The scavengers did look around, eyes darting everywhere. They understood the odds. A few of them were fidgeting and wouldn’t make eye contact with Jack or their leader. The tall man raised his revolver, intent on killing Mark.

  Patrick took action. “Run!” he yelled while jumping at and into the leader. The tall man pulled the trigger as they fell. Patrick landed on top of him, bleeding from the chest.

  A short but decisive firefight ensued. A few people had run east to escape, and nobody pursued them. Their goal now was to get out quick.

  It was then they noticed one of Jack’s men was on the ground, next to his dying horse. A few men picked him up and got him on the horse reserved for Patrick and everyone ran, forgetting about the tall man under Patrick. The Packwood group and half of Morton’s crew ran south, heading for the hills. Jack’s crew galloped north with the other half of Morton, heading to the meeting location.

  A few blocks away, they slowed their pace to look at Mark’s wound. “Through and through, in the calf,” Ralph said. “He’ll live, but he’s bleeding pretty good. A slow trot is all he can take right now.”

  Ralph used a piece of cloth to tie a bandage around Mark’s calf.

  “We’ll stitch him up when we reach the others,” Jack said.

  Diane remembered the leader and stopped. None in her group had noticed. She turned her horse and saw the man standing in the road, staring her down. She pulled her bow off the saddle horn and took another arrow from the quiver. Thinking it through this time, she judged the distance to be 75 yards and fired.

  He saw the arrow coming and didn’t move. He felt a soft breeze and heard the arrow buzz by his head and fall to the ground behind him. He got an adrenaline rush coming that close to death twice within mere minutes and surviving.

  The tall man reached up and touched his ear. His finger was wet, and he felt a semi-circle chunk missing from the side of his ear, near the top. As he looked at his wet, red fingers, Diane pulled another arrow. The man looked up and saw her raise the bow again. Elated but not wanting to tempt fate a third time, he ran west, towards home.

  Diane saw the man touch his ear and look at his finger. That close, she thought. She made her adjustments in her mind and pulled another arrow. When she saw the man run, she returned the arrow to the quiver. Diane turned her horse and galloped away, holding onto her bow.

  As Jack and company neared the pub they visited last week, they saw Chuck approaching with a fishing pole and a string of trout. He said, “Hi Jack. Your lips are prettier in the daylight.” Everyone laughed, even Jack.

  “What’s his deal?” Jack asked.

  JR said, “We keep him around because he’s good at what he does.”

  “Okay, what does he do?”

  “He makes us laugh.”

  Jack nodded. Good skill, he thought.

  As they reached the meetup location, Mark Clark saw his wife for the first time in months and set his horse running to meet her. He jumped off his horse and greeted her with a big, long hug. After what seemed like minutes, they broke the hug and kissed.

  “I hate to break up the reunion here, but our other Mark needs stitched up,” Jack said. “Our problem is, he’s the medic. Who has steady hands?”

  Larry said, “I work on the animals on the property, I’ll do it.”

  “That works,” Jack said. He pulled a medical kit from his pack and handed it to Larry. “He’s all yours.”

  That’s when Robin noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Patrick?”

  Her husband told her what had happened, and that Patrick sacrificed himself to save him.

  She looked up and said, “You’re a good man, Patrick Tillerman.”

  While Larry was working on Mark, the others gathered around to go over the plan in Elbe. One man was posted to be sure nobody followed and was ready for revenge.

  They would contact Eatonville a few miles from the bridge to be sure they were set up. Half of Eatonville’s people were to skirt the north edge of town via horse trails, so they could approach from the east. That way, we’d have them surrounded.

  Jack and Paul were sure the Elbe gang would have more people this time. They showed eleven people twice and were now expected to have a larger group. Jack and company would show up with a small army and every direction covered by road. It was a solid plan and kept them one step ahead of the game.

  This time they would send four people first, all from Morton so they wouldn’t be recognized. Then Eatonville would show up from the east and the rest of Jack’s crew from the south. After Elbe showed their hand, the rest of Eatonville would show up from the west.

  As soon as Mark got stitched up, the wound cleaned and wrapped, they mounted up and headed to Elbe.


  ∆ ∆ ∆

  The plan was set in motion. Four men from Morton made their way to the bridge. As they got near, they were met by four men from Elbe. Jack and company rode forward. When the Elbe leader saw them coming, he smiled. He heard the horses coming from the east as well. When everyone converged he began talking.

  “Welcome back to Elbe, we’ve been expecting you! I hope you brought a lot of food because we brought a lot of people.” He whistled and his whole gang stood. “We’ll be taking your horses this time too. I hear they’re tasty.”

  Paul and Jack were right, they had a lot more people. He tapped the talk button on his radio a few times to signal the rest of Eatonville’s group. Looking around, he noticed most of the new people were women and teenagers. There were a few older men he hadn’t recognized from before. They brought their families! Fools, he thought. They’d risk their wives and children over a few morsels of food?

  “Hold your horses,” Jack said, aware of his choice of words. “I think I hear something. Wait for it…”

  Then everyone heard horseshoes on pavement. Jack smiled. “The jig is up.”

  Once again, the leader put his hands in the air and said, “You got me again. Very well played.”

  This time they didn’t just leave the Elbe gang unpunished. The three groups circled the Elbe gang and their families and corralled them close together. They were disarmed, with the weapons being distributed among the three groups.

  Jack saw Calvin in the second Eatonville group and rushed over to greet him. “Calvin? How the hell are you!”

  Calvin looked up to see who was talking to him and said, “Hey, I remember you! I’m doing great, how are my chickens?”

  “They’re doing well. I built them a good home. Thanks for that extra, that was all class, sir. Although, I’ve picked up two more mouths to feed since I saw you. I’ll need to find more chickens, or a rooster.”

  Calvin laughed, “Don’t we all! I’m glad to know you’re okay and you’re one of us.”

  “Yes, it’s a welcome surprise. Maybe we’ll get to meet up in the future, hopefully, this mess will be over by then.”

  Diane called Jack over, reminding Calvin of his name.

  “It’s a good wish, Jack. I hope it comes true.”

  “Well, it was good to see you again. I’ve got to go see what she needs.”

  Jack walked over to Diane and she pointed at two young men. “Those are friends of the prick.”

  “I see. You two can’t seem to stay out of trouble. What are we going to do with you?”

  “I say we end them here and now.” She reached for her Glock but Jack stopped her.

  “Wait now, maybe they’re just nice guys who can’t pick good friends. Is that the case here boys?”

  Their faces had turned white and they couldn’t form words. They nodded rapidly instead.

  “See honey, they just need proper guidance.

  So here’s the deal, boys. I’m going to give you one more chance to turn yourselves around. Choose your friends wisely, because if we have to apprehend you again, I’m going to give this nice young lady her wish. And I better not see you with weapons again.”

  By now they were sweating profusely. They nodded some more and refused to look at Diane.

  “Get out of here!” Jack said.

  They sent all the Elbe gang to the shore of the river. It would take them time to get to their homes, time the three groups would use to escape unscathed.

  Jack thanked everyone for their help and they all headed home. As they were leaving, Diane said, “I guess that’s the end of the trouble with this bunch.”

  Jack gave her a sideways glance, scrunched his eyebrows, and said, “How many weapons do I have?”

  “A lot!”

  “Okay, how many do you suppose they have?”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “We taught them a lesson, that’s it. If they pay attention to the lesson, they’ll stop. But most of them can walk home and choose another weapon for tomorrow.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  Ranger John was ready before midnight. He knew his rangers would start showing up beforehand and wanted to get moving as soon as possible. He had all the gear packed and ready. As rangers entered, he gave them a bundle and sent them to the stable.

  In the bundles were weapons, ammo, laptops, radios, and other high-value items. As the last ranger left, he looked around to be sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Then he picked up his bundle and said goodbye to his home away from home. He locked the door, knowing it would do no good.

  There were six rangers and eight horses. Leaving two was not an option, they’d become dinner for sure. They loaded the two extra with gear and tied them to the horse ahead of them. They started for home in single file.

  The group stayed to the side of the roads. Sound travels far at night and horseshoes on pavement would wake everyone within a half mile radius. Once they got past the hotel, they would be safe, for the most part. Most of the people would be behind them.

  After they put about a half mile between them and Longmire, they mounted the horses and picked up their pace, still staying to the roadside. They reached the park entrance and took a final look. John waved as they exited. Eighteen years of my life I’ve given that park. He sighed.

  The Rangers went about a mile and stopped for the night. They found a nice spot off the road, set a guard on a 1-hour rotation, and slept.

  In the morning, they mounted up and headed for their homes. At Ashford, a few turned off and made their way home. John said, “I’m going to stop at a friend’s place. I’ll see everyone soon.”

  Backup Plan

  L t. Zhurov sat at his desk sipping his fifth cup of coffee and finishing off a pack of cigarettes. He couldn’t remember the last time he drank so much coffee or smoked so many cigarettes. He had already paced the office a hundred times.

  His men had been fighting this keyboard battle for a few hours now. Nobody had been to the toilet in that time. He knew the men had to pee by now, he had brought each one of them at least 2 bottles of water.

  He tapped his fingers on his desk, wondering how and why Fedin had stayed so calm. It wasn’t like him. At that moment, Fedin looked at him. He was looking at the fingers tapping the desk. Zhurov stopped right away. Fedin nodded and actually…smiled? Zhurov was sure he saw a smile but didn’t believe what he saw.

  Fedin did smile because he knew something nobody else in the room knew. He wasn’t going to tell either.

  Sabbir sent another message earlier. First, he took a stab at the general’s men for not getting the power off as planned. Then he mentioned he specifically targeted all the buildings connected to the power grid in any way. Those people would all get the full dose. In simpler terms, the people trying to stop the attack on the power grid were dead, they just hadn’t stopped breathing yet.

  Whether by skill or default, Fedin knew his team would win. It was just a matter of waiting them out. He wouldn’t tell his men about this tidbit of information. So he smiled.

  The smile on Fedin’s face made Zhurov even more nervous. He couldn’t remember a time when he was more anxious. He gave up his threats a few hours ago and decided to let the men work their magic. He thought about words of encouragement, but that would fall flat after his angry words.

  Still Fedin smiled.

  The sergeant said, “Sir, we’re making progress. Our adversaries are slowing down. We’re winning.”

  “Excellent. Go harder! Do not give up the advantage.”

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  Johnathan couldn’t believe is stupid luck. He hadn’t been sick in three or four years and his body chose today? Now? The room smelled of vomit. He’d emptied the contents of his stomach into the garbage can a few minutes ago. He called for relief earlier, but nobody had shown yet.

  His body was slowing down and he needed help. If he could hold on just a little longer, someone would be here to c
over him. That’s what he told himself, anyway. Just a little longer…

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  The sergeant was getting excited. He could smell victory, he would taste it soon. He knew it in his bones.

  Lt. Zhurov was back on his feet, pacing in front of his desk again. He was out of cigarettes and couldn’t leave to buy more. If he drank any more coffee, he’d pee his pants. From the smell of things, others already had.

  He tried to avoid looking at Fedin. The smile on the general’s face unnerved him. It wasn’t natural. For anyone else, it wouldn’t bother him. But general Fedin never smiles. Now he won’t stop.

  Zhurov looked at the men and now he saw the sergeant smiling. Hope filled him up. A smiling sergeant is a good thing. “Sergeant, report!”