Bug Out! Part 3: Motorhome Madness (3 page)

“You need a doctor,” the Sheriff said. “I’ll call for an ambulance.

“You might want to inform the Army that the militia and the Islamists are working together,” Jerry said.

“Alright, let’s go back to the park,” the Sheriff said. “I’ll radio for help.”

“Somebody should hang out in the blind and keep watch,” Jerry said.

“I’ll do it,” Frank said. “I’ve got a lot of ammo on my belt. And we know this sucker has some stopping power.”

“True that,” Jeb said. “How is that thing to shoot?”

“Kicks like a mule. It’s shorter and lighter than the 30-30 model.”

“I’ll get up there and bring down your .270,” Jerry said. He quickly climbed up the ladder and came down with it. “Maybe it will make a temporary crutch.”

“Well, at least a cane,” Jeb said, grabbing it from Jerry. “Dang, the barrel is still hot.”

Frank climbed up the ladder and set his Winchester up there, as Lucy looked up at him and cried. Then he came back down, scooped her up, and carried her up to the blind.

“I’ll keep an eye out until you get help here,” Frank said. “Don’t let Jane come out here after me.”

“I’ll try,” Jerry laughed. “You know how these women are.”

“That I do,” Frank agreed. “Wonder if it’s too early for a drink?”

The Sheriff shook his head as he was helping Jeb back to the gate. Jerry hurried to catch up to them.

As soon as they got into the gate, the Sheriff pulled out his cellphone and called Hilda.

“Hilda? Jack here.”

“What happed back there?” she asked. She sounded scared.

“Tell everybody that our folks all survived,” he said, “but Jeb got shot in the leg. Do you have any crutches or a walker or a wheel chair?”

“No walkers,” Jeb said.

The Sheriff and Jerry chuckled.

“I heard that,” Hilda said. “Tell that old reprobate that he’ll take what I give him and like it.”

“I don’t think I want to tell him that, Hilda.” He laughed.

“Alright, I do have a set of crutches, which were Jer’s from when he broke his hip. I’ll grab them and meet you guys.”

“Thanks, Hilda,” he said. He put the phone back in his pocket.

In the clubhouse, everybody was still afraid to move. Hilda looked at the women sitting at the table.

“What’s going on?” Jane asked.

“Everybody is alive, but Jeb’s hit in the leg. I need to get some crutches out to him.” She went into her house, which was in back of the clubhouse, and took the crutches out of the hall closet. Then she went out with them to meet the men. She watched Jeb trying to use his rifle as a cane and shook her head.

“I hope that gun isn’t loaded, the way you are using it,” she said.

“Oh, it’s empty alright. The bullets are stuck in some bad guys back there,” he said with a grin. He took the crutches and got them under his arms, and then shifted to one side so he could get his rifle on his back with the sling.

They were just about to the veranda on the clubhouse. The Sheriff went off towards his car and got on the radio. He made several calls, and joined the others inside.

“Alright, the doctor’s on his way. I also got the Army sending somebody, so we can discuss what happened back there.”

“Good,” Jerry said. He sat down next to Jasmine, and she slid close and hugged him.

“Where’s Frank?” Jane asked.

“He is in the blind, keeping an eye out until the cavalry shows up,” Jeb said.

“You left him out there alone?” Jane cried.

“No, he’s not alone,” Jerry said. “He’s got Lucy with him, and that .44 mag lever gun. He’ll be good for a few minutes.”

“By the way, you’ve got one hell of a dog there,” Jeb said. Jerry nodded in agreement.

“What do you mean?” Jane asked, still visibly upset.

“That damn dog saw the last two bad guys and pointed to them. We just had to look where she was looking.”

“I’m not happy about him being there alone,” she said.

“Ah, he’s pretty safe up there,” Jeb said. “The walls are thick enough to stop bullets.”

Jane snorted. “You got hit.”

“My own fault. I wasn’t expecting company, so I had the door open. They got me with the first shot. Killed four of them after that.”

“Who’s them?” asked Hilda.

“Three Islamist fighters, and three militia men,” Jerry said.

“What!” Jane said. “Jeez, nobody has any good info around here. Were they working together or fighting each other?”

“Working together, definitely,” Jeb said. “The person who shot me was a militia guy. He’s also the first one I shot. Traitor.”

“So the Army has the situation all wrong?” asked Jasmine. “That’s not very encouraging.”

“You’re telling me,” Jane said.

A siren sound floated in from the distance, getting closer and closer. Then the fire department emergency vehicle pulled up in front of the clubhouse, and two paramedics piled out.

“Where’s the doc?” the Sheriff asked.

“Right behind us,” the first paramedic said.

They heard another car pull up, and the door open and close. The doctor came running into the clubhouse with his black bag.

“Where is he?” asked the doctor.

“I’m right here, Doc,” Jeb said.

“Jeb, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Yep, it’s me, George. Be gentle.”

“You’ll probably heal up on your own, you old bushwhacker,” the doctor said as he approached. “Let’s take a look. Lay down on that table.”

Jeb hoisted himself up. The doctor came alongside him and put his black bag down on the bench next to the table. He opened it up and pulled out some scissors.

“No, you aren’t going to cut my pants, are you? Can’t I just take them off?”

The doctor looked at him and laughed, and then started cutting. After he got the pant leg out of the way, he untied the tourniquet. He got closer, and then pulled out a small LED flashlight and shined it on the wound.

“This is only a flesh wound…..the bullet went clean through. You’re lucky, though. Another inch this way and it would have nicked the artery. I’d say you got shot by a military round. No expansion that I can see.”

“Good,” the Sheriff said.

“I’ll let the paramedics clean this up and bandage it for you,” the doctor said. He looked over at them. “Hey, guys, use plenty of iodine. Let’s make it sting.” He laughed, and the paramedics cracked up too.

“That’s not nice, Doc,” Jeb said.

“Any of the enemy need attention?” asked the doctor.

“You know, doc, that’s a good question,” the Sheriff said. “I assumed that they were all dead, but some of them may just be unconscious.”

“The ones with half their brains hanging out are probably dead,” Jerry observed drily. “Looked kind of like .270 to me.”

“Damn straight, baby,” Jeb said.

“You were using that old Remington bolt action of yours against these guys?” asked the doctor. “You’re pretty brave.”

“It’s not how fast you shoot, it’s how well you shoot,” Jeb said. “Owwwwwww! Watch it with that stuff.”

“Make sure you get plenty of that iodine in there, boys,” the doctor said with a grin.

“Are there any who aren’t obviously dead?” asked the doctor.

“Well, the one that Frank shot got it in the torso, but that was a .44 mag hunting round, copper on lead, so he’s probably a mess inside. Big slow moving bullet. He only got hit once, though. The other one got hit at least twice with .30 Carbine but got up and ran, and Frank finished him off with a chest shot from the .44 mag. I doubt if either of them are alive, but it might be worth checking.”

“Wait a minute, Frank killed two men?” Jane asked. She had a horrified look on her face.

“Lucy helped, don’t forget,” Jerry said. “And I helped on one of them. He doesn’t get all the credit.”

“You guys are sick,” the Sheriff said. “Really.”

The paramedics were done closing up Jeb’s dressing. They looked over at the doctor. He nodded, and they gathered up their stuff and left.

“I thought Charlie would be down here. Where is he?” asked Jeb.

“He thought somebody ought to be watching the front of the park, so he’s up on the roof of the store,” said Hilda.

“Oh. Good idea,” Jeb said. “He’s a better shot than I am, and he’s got better eyes too.”

“So you guys have the front and back at least partly covered,” the Sheriff said. “That’s good.”

“Should we be staying here?” asked Jane.

“If I were you folks, I’d probably stay here rather than get out on the road right now,” the Sheriff said, “been hearing some bad things.”

“I’m getting to where I don’t trust anything you local folks say,” Jane said. “No offense, but we’ve gotten
bad
info from people saying they had
good
info ever since we left LA.”

“She’s right,” Jasmine said. “We need people to level with us about the situation around here. And we aren’t going to be held here because the Army doesn’t want us to spook bad guys. That’s not how we operate in this country.”

“Here here,” said Cynthia. It was the first time she said anything since the shooting started. She didn’t look good. She looked terrified and exhausted. The doctor walked over to her, and they had a hushed conversation.

“You are free to go if you feel you must,” the Sheriff said, looking over at Jasmine. “But think carefully about it.”

“We have a crowd of people heading this way,” Jerry said as he looked out the window. “Took them a while to get out from under their beds after all the shooting, I guess.”

Hilda looked over at Jerry with an annoyed expression. Then she walked out onto the veranda to greet them.

“What’s going on?” asked Earl. Jackson was next to him, and the rest of the people gathered around.

The sheriff joined Hilda on the veranda before she could start talking.

“Hi, Folks,” the Sheriff said in a loud voice. “I’m sure you heard the gun battle this morning. It appears to be over at this point.”

“Who was it?” asked Earl.

“Three Islamist fighters and three militia men,” he replied.

A murmur went through the crowd.

“Were they fighting each other?” asked Jackson.

“No, it appears that they were working together.”

“Who shot them?” asked Earl.

“Jeb, Frank, and Jerry.”

“It’s important that we don’t panic,” Hilda said “We have Frank in the blind at the rear of the park keeping watch now, and Charlie is on the roof of the store watching the front of the park.”

“Yes,” the Sheriff said. “The Army’s also on their way here.”

More murmurs from the crowd.

“You mean an officer, or a bunch of troops?” asked Jackson.

“Probably an officer and a junior officer,” the Sheriff said.

“You are welcome to hang out in the clubhouse if you’d like,” Hilda said. “I made up some coffee earlier, and it ought to be ready now.”

“Sheriff, are the roads safe enough for us to be able to leave if we so choose?” asked Jackson.

“In a word, no,” the Sheriff said. “We have been getting bad reports over the last day and a half.”

“What kind of reports?” asked Earl.

“Scavengers attacking vehicles on the highway.”

“How about Islamists and Militia folks? How much trouble are we really in?” asked Jackson. “The truth, please.”

“The Islamists? They took us by surprise here,” the Sheriff said. “We were told they were all contained east of Flagstaff. We knew there were militia active between here and Tusayan. We had no idea they were working with the Islamists. That one is a shock, at least to me. I don’t understand what is going on there. The objectives of these two groups don’t coincide.”

“Yes they do,” Jackson said. “Just like the Venezuelans and the Islamists also lined up. They want to topple the US Government, or secede and set up their own territories. They want to appoint themselves warlords.”

“Wonderful,” Jerry said, walking out onto the veranda. “They are both pretty damn stupid. They have no chance of winning, but even if they did, as soon as they got the US authorities out of the way and the US citizens under control, they would be fighting each other. Idiots.”

“I saw a story on TV last night about some Islamists that were caught sneaking over the Canadian border yesterday,” said Earl. “The report said that a number of these creeps probably got through. Wonder if these Islamists are from the southeast or the north?”

“Another good reason not to get back on the road now,” the Sheriff said.

Just then an Army Humvee drove in through the gate and parked in front of the clubhouse. There were two officers in the front, and four troops in the back. They all jumped out of the vehicle. The officers made their way towards the veranda.

“Who’s in charge here?” asked the one of the officers.

The four soldiers
that got out of the back of the Humvee stood around the vehicle with their weapons in their hands, keeping an eye on the crowd. The two officers were up on the veranda of the clubhouse.

“I asked who was in charge here?” the officer asked. He had a surly manner.

“I’m the owner of the park, sir,” Hilda said. “But we don’t have anyone formally in charge.”

“That’s going to change,” he said.

“Actually, no it’s not,” Jerry said, stepping up. “We have information for you guys. We’ll give it to you, and then you will be leaving us alone. This is still a free country, and we aren’t under martial law here.”

“And who are you?” asked the officer.

“A citizen, and a Marine,” Jerry said. “My name is Jerry. Who are you?”

“Lieutenant James,” the officer said. He was starting to calm down. “Where did you serve?”

“Gulf War,” Jerry said.

The other officer whispered something in Lieutenant James’s ear.

“Alright, sorry I came on so strong,” he said. “Who can fill me in on what happened this morning?”

“Why don’t you come into the clubhouse?” asked the Sheriff. “We can talk in there. All but one person involved in the action this morning are inside.”

“Okay, fine,” said the Lieutenant, and he and the other officer followed the Sheriff and Jerry. Hilda brought up the rear.

“Would you gentlemen like some coffee?” she asked.

“That would be great, thanks,” said the Lieutenant. “Oh, and this is Major Hobbs.”