Legion of Despair: Book Three in The Borrowed World Series (24 page)

As he ran past the broad flowering cherry tree Gary had planted upon moving into the house, a black figure peeled away from the trunk and stepped to intersect his path. By the time Dave discerned the figure and began to understand that he should react, it was too late to do so. The moonlight gleamed from the edge of the machete as it arced toward Dave’s neck. He did not even have time to raise a hand in his defense before the machete buried itself in his neck, jarring against his spine, and nearly severing his head. He sprawled into a lifeless heap, dark blood spurting into the wet grass.

In the driveway, Charlotte spun toward Alice’s scream, knowing exactly who it was but having no idea what she should do about it. She could not see her. She stepped as close to the edge of the roof as she could, trying to see around the corner of the house.

“Alice?” she called. “ALICE?”

There was a gunshot from that direction, which only scared Charlotte worse. She had no idea what was going on. Who was shooting? Why was Alice screaming?

She fumbled to pick up her radio. “Dave!” she yelled into it. “Dave!”

There was no answer. She dropped the radio back onto the blanket and clicked off the safety on the shotgun. “DAVE!” she yelled as loudly as she could.

She heard the creak of the ladder behind her and spun around, hoping it was him. A hulking black-clad figure the size of a pro football player rose over the edge and sprang onto the roof, his leering skull mask pulled up to murky, emotionless eyes. The figure immediately rushed across the short distance toward her. She fired the already raised shotgun, striking the figure center mass with buckshot. He was still coming, and she didn’t know if it was from inertia or some overpowering desire to kill her. She tried to fire again, forgetting in her panic that the action of the weapon had to be pumped to chamber a new round. When she pulled the trigger again, nothing happened.

It was too late anyway. The figure was too close now and moving too fast. She dropped the shotgun and raised both hands. He ran full into her and she had the fleeting thought of feeling like a quarterback being sacked before she realized that she was now flying through the air, the man falling with her. They fell ten feet before they landed, Charlotte on her back, crushed beneath the weight of her massive attacker.

The shot Charlotte heard had come from Alice killing the man outside the toilet tent. She had learned that hesitation got you killed and she showed none at all. After her experience with Boyd, she would never again be caught without a weapon. Considering the state he found her in, the masked man who’d surprised Alice had probably expected that the hand she raised toward him would contain a roll of toilet paper and not a .38 revolver. He bled to death in the yard with a look of confusion on his face, apparently wondering how such a thing had happened to a nice guy like him.

The shots and screaming had now awakened the whole house. There was yelling and confusion inside. The children were crying, while the adults stumbled around blindly, trying to find their weapons in the dark. Will and Gary, with their weapons a little closer at hand than the others, were the first into the garage. They paused there together, looking out the window.

“I can’t see anything,” Will said.

Gary cracked open the door, surprised to find it unlocked. “Charlotte!” he yelled.

There was no response. He threw the door open and yelled again. “CHARLOTTE!”

A voice came from his left. “Gary, it’s Alice.”

“Alice? What—”

Before he could get the words out, he heard the cab door to the box truck slam shut.

“Charlotte?” There was the sound of footsteps running down the driveway, running hard and running
away
. Gary pushed by Will and ran between the vehicles. He threw up his rifle and touched a button on the quad rail of his rifle. His weapon-mounted light came to life. It was a short-range light, designed for use inside his home, but it was still bright enough to catch the back of a black-clad figured sprinting toward the end of his driveway. When the light hit the man, he turned and looked over his shoulder, the reflective ink of the skull mask glowing brightly and making the moment even more surreal.

Gary was beyond the edge now. He’d had enough of being under siege and feeling like a prisoner in his own home. He flipped the safety lever off, pushed forward on the handguard, and the Slide Fire stock engaged the trigger. Flames shot from the muzzle brake as a six-shot burst erupted from the rifle. The figure at the end of the driveway screamed and staggered. Gary gritted his teeth and pushed forward on the handguard again. The weapon fired, rounds spraying from the barrel, and Gary fought to keep it on target. He had no idea how many rounds hit the man but he fired until the mag ran dry and his target was still.

When he turned to tell Will to check the man for signs of life and to finish him off if he wasn’t dead, Will wasn’t there.

“Will?” Gary hissed.

“Over here,” came a voice from the other side of the truck. “Get over here now.”

Gary ejected his spent magazine and slammed a new one home and chambered a round. He killed his light, not wanting to present a target, then realized his night vision was blown now by use of the white light. He couldn’t see anything and would have to use the light. He flipped it back on and moved carefully around the front of the truck. On the other side, he found Will and Alice crouching over a blood-soaked Charlotte.

“No!” Gary cried, stepping to his daughter and dropping to his knees.

“She’s alive,” Alice said. “I don’t know what happened to her yet. That guy was on top of her.”

Only then did Gary notice the bulky black form of the man that Charlotte had shot and killed on the truck roof. “Is he dead?” Gary asked, his anger flaring again.

Will nodded.

“Did you check him?” Gary asked. “Are you sure he’s dead?”

“I didn’t check for a pulse,” Will said. “His eyes are open, and blood is pouring from his mouth.”

Satisfied, Gary put a hand under Charlotte’s head and started to pick her up.

“No,” Alice said, putting a hand on Gary’s arm.

Gary swung his rage in Alice’s direction, his eyes filled with fury. He was in…
a place
…and Alice could see it.

“I think she fell off the truck,” Alice explained quickly. “That hedge broke her fall, but we need to make sure she’s not hurt badly before we move her. I don’t want to make her injuries any worse.”

“Will,” Gary snapped, “check the one at the end of the driveway. If he’s still alive, slit his fucking throat.”

Alice stared at Gary, unused to seeing him so filled with hate.

“We can’t find Dave,” Will said. “I need to look for him.”

“Check on the man I shot first. We don’t leave anyone alive,” Gary ordered. “Then we’ll look for Dave.”

“You put thirty rounds in his back,” Will said. “He’s not coming back from that.”

Gary ignored Will and looked at Alice. “Get my wife. Now!”

Alice rose without a word and ran into the house, yelling for Debra. She’d never seen Gary this way before, and it scared her.

Gary checked Charlotte’s breathing and found no difficulties. He raised her shirt and was relieved that she had on the body armor. He saw no wounds that matched the volume of blood covering her clothes; it was definitely someone else’s. He gently rolled her onto her side, then raised her shirt and body armor to examine her back. There were scratches and gouges outside of the area covered by the vest but it had offered her some protection against the bushes. While the bush had taken its toll in scratches, it may also have saved her life by breaking her fall.

Will came jogging up, startling Gary enough that he reacted by reaching for his sidearm.

“It’s me,” Will said quickly. “That one’s dead. I’m looking for Dave now.”

“Be careful,” Gary said. “When Debra gets out here, I’ll come help you.”

Seconds later, Debra came running out of the house, a headlamp on her head. “I need a first aid kit, but I can’t find one!”

“They’re all packed,” Alice said.

“Where, Gary?” Debra said in a panic. “Where do I look?”

“Calm down and look under the seat of my Pathfinder!” Gary yelled. “I keep one in there.”

“What do you need me to do?” Alice asked Gary.

“Help my wife,” he said, getting to his feet with his rifle. “We can’t find Dave. I’m going to help Will find him.”

Debra returned with the first aid kit from Gary’s vehicle, which reminded Gary that he had a powerful battery-operated spotlight in there as well. He ran and got it, then took off after Will, playing the light around the tree line and in every shadowy recess on their property. He saw no one and nothing out of the ordinary, until he turned the corner.

The first thing he saw was Will on his hands and knees in the grass. When the light hit him, Will threw up an arm in Gary’s direction and expelled a sobbing, screaming torrent of vomit into the grass. His body heaved and he screamed again, his body knotting and spewing the contents of his stomach yet again. It was like watching the dying contortions of a poisoned animal. Will pounded the earth with his fist, screaming again.
“NOOOOOOO!!!!!!”
It echoed away into the night.

Only then, at the perimeter of the circle cast by his light, did Gary notice the still body in the grass. A cry escaped him as he ran across the yard, sliding to his knees in the dewy grass and dropping his light and weapon. It was instantly apparent that nothing could be done to repair the body in front of him. No amount of preparation, planning, or foresight had prepared him for this. What the hell had he been thinking? They were not soldiers, and in sending his son-in-law out to play one, he’d gotten him killed. The realization hit him like a shovel to the head. He found himself screaming too, pounding the grass in the same futility that Will was experiencing.

“There could be more of them,” Will croaked. “We’ve got to check. I hope we find some too.”

Gary realized he was right and staggered to his feet, picking up his weapon and his spotlight. “You check around back,” Gary said. “I’m going to get a blanket and cover Dave’s body.”

Gary started to walk off as Will headed in the other direction. Gary paused, then turned. “Will!”

Will stopped. “What?”

Gary jogged back over to him. “I’m going with you,” he said. “We stay in sight of each other. I’m not letting anyone else die tonight.”

“That’s not your fault, Gary,” Will said. “He wasn’t doing anything the rest of us weren’t doing. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Even if I’m not responsible, I’m still the one who has to tell my daughter that her husband is dead,” Gary said. “I’ll have to look at my grandbabies every day knowing it was my plan that got their father killed.”

Will started to remind him that it was his plan too, but he knew that there was no arguing with Gary at this point. Gary had to work it out for himself. He had to come to terms with it and find a way to live with it.

Around back, they found the dead man by the toilet tent and figured out what must have happened there. When they returned to the driveway, they found Alice standing there armed and waiting on them.

“They went inside,” Alice said before anyone could ask. “Your wife used smelling salts and woke her up. We helped her inside and they’re checking her for injuries. I’m guessing that Dave is dead?”

Gary nodded, choking down a sob at the memory of the gruesome sight.

“I heard you all yelling,” Alice said. “I figured that’s what happened.”

“Did
they
hear?” Will asked. “Has Charlotte figured it out?”

Alice shrugged. “We were going inside when I heard you screaming. I assume Debra heard you, but she didn’t say anything. Charlotte was still pretty out of it so I don’t think she noticed.”

Alice pointed to the box truck. “It looks like the one that ran off down the driveway was trying to hotwire that truck. There’s some wires pulled loose under the dash. He must have jumped in there after Charlotte fell, before you guys came out. It’s a good thing he didn’t get it started.”

“It wouldn’t have started,” Gary said. “I disconnected the battery cable earlier in case someone tried something like this.”

“That was a good move,” Alice said. “You think of everything.”

“Not everything,” Gary said sadly. “Not nearly enough.”

Chapter 16

The Valley

Jim’s House

The mood at Jim’s house was almost festive considering the state of the world. Jim let everyone know that his friend Gary and his family would be moving into Henry’s place tomorrow. Everyone was excited at the prospect of new people to talk to. Without work for Jim and Ellen, and with no school for the kids, everyone was getting a little tired of seeing the same people all day long. They did love each other, but seeing new faces was nice too and would keep them from getting so crabby and put out with each other.

Jim had also recruited his children to help the new residents unload and get settled. He planned to help, and even Lloyd and Buddy had volunteered. The pair had been invited to stick around for dinner that night. Even though they’d tried to leave, Ellen and Jim had assured them that they had plenty of food. After some arm-twisting, they relented and agreed to stay.

Over dinner, Jim talked about his own excitement at Gary’s family joining them.

“In hindsight, I can now clearly see two areas where I should have spent more time preparing,” Jim said. “I’m hoping Gary’s arrival will take care of one of them.”

“I think you did well,” Nana said. “While you might not have known the particulars, you knew what was coming long before it happened. That’s more than most people can say.”

“I didn’t know exactly what would happen, now,” Jim replied. “I only knew that there was a lot that could happen and I wanted to be prepared for as much of it as I could. I don’t see how anyone could watch the news and not see how fragile our society is.”

“What did you miss?” Pete asked. “What are the two things?”

“There are probably more than two. The things that became obvious pretty quickly are, first, I would feel more comfortable with the self-defense end of things if I’d taken more training,” Jim said. “I wish I’d learned a martial art, spent more time on firearms training, and some basic tactics like how to work as a team in a gunfight. That kind of thing. Some days I feel like it was simply dumb luck we ever made it home from Richmond.”

“You expect to do much of that?” Pops asked. “I was hoping the worst was over. I don’t want to think we’re going to have to be fighting people off all the time.”

“I don’t know how much more unrest there will be. I’ve already had to do more fighting than I ever thought I would, and I’m just winging it. I would feel a lot more comfortable if I really knew what I was doing. There’s only so much you can learn from watching videos on the internet.”

“And we don’t even have that now,” Pete said ruefully.

Jim laughed. “Ain’t that the truth? There are tactical schools all over this country, run by veterans and law enforcement trainers, and they teach all that kind of stuff. I should have spent some money on that, but I never did.”

“What’s the other thing?” Buddy asked.

“The other is that I wish I’d had a plan for other folks to join us,” Jim said. “If I had it to do over again, I would have built a couple of cabins around the property with the plan of offering them to prepared friends if a situation like this occurred.”

“That makes sense,” Buddy said. “They could store some of their survival gear and stuff there in the cabins and have it already waiting on them when they got here.”

Jim nodded. “Exactly. It would be mutually beneficial. I provide a place for them to bug-out to and in return they would help out with the gardening, food storage, and security.”

“Which is kind of what you’re doing now, right?” Pete asked. “With your friend Gary coming?”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “The bad part is that it’s a lot harder to do now than it would have been a couple of months ago. It would be better if we had cabins here on this property already instead of having to put Gary and his family in a house up the road. We’ll have a bigger area to try to secure, although we will be close enough to come to each other’s aid if we need to.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Pops said. “I guess you’ll know next time the world collapses and try to do a little better.”

Nana rolled her eyes at his attempt at humor.

“What are your plans for when they get here?” Ellen asked. “If this is supposed to help us secure the area and improve our situation, will that work? Like you said, they’ll be in a house up the road.”

“While you all are talking about this, I’m getting dessert out of the oven,” Nana said, getting to her feet and heading for the kitchen.

“The first goal is improving the security for this whole end of the valley,” Jim said. “I’ve already talked to the other families that live back here and we’re going to gate off the road to keep out people who don’t belong. We’re going to do it unmanned first, with a warning sign on it, something menacing. If that doesn’t work, we’ll put a man on it. If we put a gate by the Wimmers’ house and one by the house where Gary is going to be staying, that should cut out some of the traffic.”

“There aren’t many people driving,” Pete pointed out.

“That’s right,” Jim said. “Most people are still using the road, though, since it’s the easiest walking. The gate sends more of a message than anything else. While we can’t really secure thousands of acres with a few families, we need to do the best we can. Next, I think we still have time to get out some end-of-season crops. We can still plant kale, spinach, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, and some greens, and have time for them to come up. If we take care to protect the plants, and cover them when the frost is coming, they’ll last for a good while. We might even be able to throw a greenhouse together with a little work. All that will give us some fresh food to supplement the stored stuff. That’s something that every family in the valley should try to do.”

“We also need to be looking at some livestock,” Jim continued. “There are probably folks with more stock than they can take care of since they can’t go out and buy supplemental feed now. We could probably trade for some chickens, rabbits, goats, and a couple of cows. That would greatly help out our situation if this goes long-term.”

“Is it too late to build cabins like you were talking about?” Buddy asked.

“No,” Jim said. “I’m still thinking about doing that. They’ll just have to be more primitive with the limited availability of commercial building materials.”

“You could probably just build some real log cabins,” Lloyd suggested.

“We might have to do that,” Jim acknowledged.

“Who wants cobbler?” Nana called from the kitchen.

There was a chorus of positive responses. Nana and Ariel had picked fresh berries earlier so that they could make the cobbler. Despite the fact they didn’t have ice cream, it was still delicious.

“Thanks for picking these berries,” Buddy told Ariel as she brought him a bowl of cobbler. “I think this is probably my favorite dessert in the whole world.”

Ariel smiled. While she was the smallest of the group and had the least to say when they were all gathered, Buddy always went out of his way to find some reason to call attention to her. He complimented her on her hair or her efforts at helping Nana in the kitchen. It was not lost on the group that he’d once had a little girl of his own and had recently lost her. It broke their hearts to hear how he spoke to her, and knew he must have been a good father. They did not know the lengths he’d gone to make things right. If Jim had known, as a father, he would completely understand.

After dinner, they retreated to the backyard. The sun had set over the hillside and left the sky in layers of orange and red for which no one had any words. They stared, small in the large world, and forgot for a short time the state of things.

There were chairs, benches, stools, and rocks for seating. A fire was built in the circle of stones that served as a fire pit. Lloyd brought out his guitar, playing and singing mountain ballads that sounded utterly suitable in the world as it now was. Those were songs written in the days before rural electrification and widespread ownership of automobiles. They were the songs of barn dances from a day when more folks would have come on foot or horseback than in a Model T.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Ariel told her mother.

An outhouse stood at the end of the yard. Upon Jim’s return home, it had been one of the immediate needs that had to be dealt with. Using scrap lumber, Jim threw together a traditional outhouse pretty quickly. He dug a hole in a far corner of the yard using his excavator and then used the same machine to place the outhouse on top of the hole. It was far enough to keep the smell distant, and close enough that it was still convenient.

“Can you go by yourself?” Ellen asked.

Ariel looked at the sky, already turning dark. She wasn’t so sure.

“I can see you from here,” Ellen assured her. “If you need me, just yell.”

“Can I have a flashlight?”

“You have one on your head,” Ellen pointed out.

Ariel reached up and felt the headlamp on her head. “Oh yeah. I forgot.” Ariel bounded off across the yard and locked herself in the outhouse.

They sat outside until the stars emerged and the night turned cool. It reminded Jim that cutting firewood would get a little harder once he ran out of chainsaw gas. He always cut a year ahead to allow the wood time to cure. While he had plenty of wood for the upcoming winter, it was time to start cutting for the one after. Without the ability to turn on the heat pump on the extra cold mornings, it would be more critical than ever that he kept them well-stocked with wood. In his twenties, he’d lived in a house with two woodstoves and no other form of heat. They’d had a record cold spell that year and he’d learned a lot about never letting the fire burn out. A cold house took a long time to warm back up when all you had was a wood stove.

The fire dwindling, they closed up shop and headed for bed. They would not be having a watch tonight. Things had been quiet and Jim felt comfortable with the perimeter alarms he’d set up upon his return. There were battery-operated motion sensors all around the property and they set off loud alarms in the house if triggered. There were also solar motion lights. Some of those had the bulbs replaced with what was referred to as a “buzz bulb.” Instead of lighting up, it produced an ear-splitting buzz that served as an alarm if the motion sensor was activated.

Another step Jim had taken was to place his solar-powered motion lights at established distances from the house. His long-range rifles were zeroed at two hundred yards. At several locations, such as the driveway, he had lights set up at exactly two hundred yards from the house. If a solar motion light was triggered by someone, Jim knew the exact distance to target. He had others set up at five hundred yards. If they were triggered, he would know the exact holdover on his scope for the target illuminated under that light.

He’d also learned in his visit to the Weathermans’ farm that they had pups ready to be weaned. Jim had asked for two of them. They were Great Pyrenees and would be excellent for maintaining a watch on the property. Jim would feel a lot better when they were in place. They were big dogs and would require a lot of food. He hoped he could develop a prolific hutch of rabbits that would help provide food for the dogs.

Lloyd and Buddy had walked down from Buddy’s house that afternoon instead of driving. Lloyd wasn’t known for his love of physical activity, but as his fuel gauge got closer to E, even he realized that perhaps he should attempt to preserve some of it. They had flashlights, and both carried guns. Lloyd also had a jar of his grandfather’s moonshine he’d discreetly been nipping from over the course of the evening. He and Buddy both bespoke its character and excellence.

After they wandered off into the darkness, Jim locked his house up tight. He made sure all of the windows were secure. He climbed into his bed and laid out his bedside kit for rapid deployment: headlamp, M4, Beretta, LCP backup, an ESEE tactical knife, a SOG folder, and his tactical vest with spare mags and rounds for everything.

*

Buddy and Lloyd started walking the paved road to Buddy’s house. It was a beautiful night, the moon brilliant and the sky brimming with stars in the way that can only be seen away from the lights of cities. Both men were pleasantly drunk. Two owls hooted back and forth as the quart jar passed between them. Lloyd found himself humming as he walked, then singing aloud.

“Would that be
Down In the Willow Garden
that you’re singing?” Buddy asked.

“It would be,” Lloyd replied.

“Brings to mind my mother. She sang that one while she worked sometimes.”

Buddy slipped back into the warm pool of his thoughts. It was a sad song, and there was a lot of sadness in his life. His mother had been a good woman and he missed her. She’d died before his daughter was old enough to remember her. He couldn’t help but wonder if his mother’s influence may have helped keep Rachel on the right path. So many bad things in this world and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it except for the one thing he’d done already. He’d avenged his daughter’s death and that was something.

He started humming along with Lloyd and the words came back to him. Before long, they were proceeding up the road, singing at full volume. Neither had the polished voice of a recording artist but there was a purity and trueness that made the song beautiful. It carried through the night like the sound of a creek, almost belonging.