Strengthen What Remains (Book 2): A Time to Endure (19 page)

“Turn
left,” Caden said. “Go up Hillcrest Boulevard.” He grasped the radio microphone
as they rolled past a looted convenience store. Not one window remained intact.
“Fletcher this is Westmore. The route is still clear no contact.”

“Westmore
this is Fletcher. Roger.”

 
“Do you see anything?” Caden asked the gunner,
Corporal Gilbert, on top of the vehicle.

“No,
sir. All quiet.”

He
looked over his shoulder to the young private behind him. “Do you see
anything?”

“No,
sir, but do you think we’ll get any action?” He asked with a bit too much
enthusiasm.

“Maybe
later today.”

The
main street wound around a large modern church. Behind it was a broad parking
lot and beyond that, on the right, the neighborhood was charred rubble.

Corporal
Tyler looked back and forth as he drove the Humvee up the road. “The parking
lot served as a fire break.”

I hope Peter’s house is
still standing.

For
the next several blocks no home survived on the right side of the road. All
that remained were driveways, concrete steps, chimneys and charred wood. On the
left homes were untouched by fire, but windows were broken, doors ajar.
Furniture, lamps, pots and pans were scattered on the lawns. Garage doors were
open, cars gone, but everything that remained was in disarray.

Gradually
they drove up the slope of a large ridge. At the top, Hillcrest intersected a
major thoroughfare.

The
Humvee stopped.

Caden
looked at Tyler.

“Sorry,
it’s a habit,” He then proceeded across a road strewn with empty cars.

The EMP from the blast
must have reached here.
Caden updated his position with the convoy. “Still clear.
No contact.” The rest of the unit would turn west down the highway, but Caden
was now on a personal mission.

The
land before them was flat, but in the distance were several blackened hills.

They
were close now. Reaching the far side of the main road Tyler wove around
abandoned cars. Caden checked each street sign as they passed. “Turn there,” he
said pointing to the cul-de-sac on the right.

What will I find at
Peter and Sue’s home?
Caden shuddered as all that he had seen this morning flashed through his mind.

Tyler
maneuvered around more abandoned cars.

He
pointed. “There.” Caden’s gut twisted in a knot at the sight of a two-story
peach home. The living room window was shattered. A car sat in the driveway
with one door open. Trash and debris litter the area.
What will I find inside?

The
Humvee pulled up to the curb. “Stay here. Keep watch,” Caden said. As he
stepped onto the front porch, the smudge of a boot print was visible near the
doorknob. A mild breeze brought a squeak from the door.

He
placed one hand on his pistol and pushed the door open. “I’m Major Caden
Westmore with the Washington Guard. If anyone is inside announce your
presence.”

The
living room was a tempest-tossed mess of papers, bottles, pans and broken
furniture. Caden couldn’t recall what had been there, but he was certain there
had been a couch and a TV.

He
smirked.
The television might have been a
nice one, but it wasn’t EMP proof.

Hearing
a noise in the kitchen, he crept that way. As he looked around the corner, a
rat darted across a floor strewn with flatware and broken dishes. The fridge
door was open. Within were a few containers growing mold in a variety of
colors.

As
Caden finished checking the first floor, his radio crackled.

“Westmore,
this is Transport. Golf 181 reports sporadic gunfire north of their position.”

The driver of the
Humvee has to tell me my men are hearing gunfire.
He sighed.
I should be with them.
He turned towards
the door.
Don’t overreact. We’ve been
hearing gunfire since we got here.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs,
Caden said, “Transport. Roger. Do you hear anything?”

“Westmore,
this is Transport. Negative. This place is as quiet as a grave.”

“Transport.
Roger. This shouldn’t take much longer. Advise me if anything changes. Over.”

Caden
looked up the stairs.
Let’s get this done
.
He bounded up the steps two at a time, but halted as the first waves assaulted
his nostrils. His gut twisted in a knot. He knew that smell—the stench of
death.

From
his pocket he retrieved a cloth, poured water from his canteen on it, and held
it to his nose with one hand. In the other hand he held the pistol,

Caden
proceeded up the stairs.
God, let it be
an animal.
At least not Peter.

He
opened the door to the first bedroom. The room had been used as a storeroom and
the smell was weak, but he searched it anyway, looking in the closest and under
a bed with no sheets. As he expected he found nothing.

In
the next room, the overall hue was blue, with wallpaper showing friendly
dinosaurs and sea creatures.
Sue will
need the playpen and other things, but how would I get them to the farm?
When he was finished in that room he checked the bathroom off the hall, but
found nothing.

“Westmore,
this is Transport. The drone has sighted vehicles in the area. My guess is they
heard the Humvee, like we thought they would, and now they’re searching for us.
No contact yet.”

Caden
stood at the door of the master bedroom. The smell came from inside. How many
times had he seen death and smelled its grizzly scent? Reaching for the knob,
he hesitated, but time was limited.
What
are the chances of it being Peter? Get this done and get out of here.

“Transport,
this is Westmore. Roger. Nearly done.”

Pressing
the cloth to his face he opened the door.

In
the shock of that moment, the smell disappeared as he processed what he saw.
Lying on the right side of the bed was a man in a police uniform. Caden could not
recognize the body, but as he stepped closer the nametag told him all he needed
to know.

“Hello,
brother.” There was more that he wanted to say. If he had been part of Peter’s
life…If he’d been there…close enough to help…things might have…would have,
turned out differently. But the thoughts and words jumbled in his mind. “I’m
sorry.”

Caden
pressed transmit on his radio. “Send a body bag to the second floor. Then we’ll
be leaving.”

On
the nightstand was an empty pill bottle. He read the label, but learned little.

Seconds
later someone ran into the house and started up the stairs. Progress slowed
after a few steps. When the young private arrived at the bedroom door he
dropped the bag and puked repeatedly in the hall.

The
sound of engines and squealing tires caught his attention.
Probably not good news.
“Come on
private. Open up the bag on the other side of the bed. We’re going to use the
bedspread to lift him and set in it.”

The
private, pale as the sheets, nodded.

The
radio crackled. “Westmore this is Transport. Vehicles approaching. They’ve
found us. Advise you return at once.”

Caden
pulled the bedspread and flipped it over his brother.

The
private moved the hand from his face and gagged. “He’s holding something.”

The
lower part of his brother’s right hand stuck out from under the cover. In that
hand was a plastic bag with folded paper in it.

Gunfire
erupted.

Caden
grabbed the plastic bag and put it in a pocket.

The
private winced as shots hit the house and ricocheted.

The
Humvee 50 caliber returned fire.

“I’ll
take the bedspread at the head, you take it at the feet and we’ll slide him off
the bed into the bag.”

The
private nodded, winced, retched and grabbed the cover in one continuous motion.

“Westmore,
this is Transport. Now would be a good time to go.”

Caden
didn’t answer. He zipped the bag and pointed to the far end. “Grab it. Let’s
move!”

As
they came down the stairs, Caden spoke into his radio. “Transport this is
Westmore. We’re coming out. Provide cover.”

The
50 cal fired continuously.

The
private held the bag in one hand and opened the front door of the house with
his free one.

The
Humvee had moved closer to the house, blocking most angles of fire.

As
the private stepped on the porch, he stumbled.

“Are
you hit?” Caden shouted over the roar of fire.

Without
answering, he regained his footing and raced to the vehicle, opened the door
and jumped in pulling the body bag with him.

Caden
followed into the front passenger side. “Go! Go! Go!”

The
engine roared.

As
the Humvee bounced onto the road, Caden scanned the route. Three vehicles
blocked the end of the cul-de-sac. The black flag of jihad flew from one SUV.

From
atop the Humvee, Gilbert fired steadily as six or more terrorists shot back
from behind the cars. Shell casings jingled as they fell on and in the vehicle.

Two
terrorists moved into flanking positions and fired.

Bullets
pinged off the Humvee.

Caden
spotted a man aiming a rocket propelled grenade.

“Left!
Swerve left!”

The
Humvee bounded up the curb and onto a lawn.

“Fire
right,” Caden shouted.

The
sound of gunfire, ricochets and brass was deafening.

Gilbert
turned and unleashed a steady barrage at the terrorist with the RPG. Then he
cursed and fell into the main compartment and onto Peter’s body.

Caden
looked over his shoulder.

“Brace!”
Tyler yelled.

The
Humvee hit one car spinning it out of the way.

Caden
slammed into his seatbelt.

An
agonized scream came from outside.

As
the Humvee continued to accelerate down the road, Caden turned to check on
Gilbert.

Amazingly
the corporal was moving Peter’s body into the back, out of the way.

“Are
you okay?” Caden asked.

Gilbert
put two fingers in bullet holes near his heart. “Thank God for Kevlar.”

“You’re
going to have one heck of a bruise.” Caden sighed. “Have the medic check you
when we rendezvous with Golf 181.”

 
Still smiling, Gilbert nodded.

Only
then did Caden notice the young private was bleeding.

Turning
to Gilbert, he said, “Corporal, I need you up there providing cover fire.”

The
soldier gave a reluctant nod and climbed back into position.

The
private was ghostly pale. Blood stained much of his torso and hip. “Where were
you hit?”

“They’re
following,” Gilbert yelled and fired.

Gently
the private touched a spot high on his side.

Again,
came the ping of ricochets and brass tingling as it fell from the gun.

“Is
that the only place you’re hurt?”

He
nodded. “I think so.”

Clumsily,
Caden crawled into the back and finished moving his brother’s body out of the
way. “I need to see the wound.”

The
young man gritted his teeth and moaned, as Caden helped remove his bloody
jacket. He thought he knew everyone in the unit, but not this young man.
Glancing at his nametag he said, “What’s your first name, Private Conner?”

“Steve…Steven,
sir.”

Finding
a tear in the bloody shirt, Caden ripped it wider.

The
young man winced.

“How
long have you been with the unit?”

“I
joined three weeks ago. I’m the newest guy they sent on the operation.”

After
wiping some of the blood away, with gauze from the first aid kit, Caden got a
good look at the wound. “Where are you from, Steve?”

“Hansen.
I graduated from the high school last June.”

Caden
showed the young man the wound in his side. It was a jagged cut, but only skin
deep. “It almost missed you.” He wrapped and bandaged Conner’s chest.
“Yesterday you were a boy from Hansen, a raw recruit. Today you’re a combat
veteran.” He smiled. “Welcome to the club.”

Conner
smiled as Caden finished applying the bandages.

“Keep
pressure on the wound with your hand. The medics will look at it when we rejoin
the unit in a minute or two.” Caden crawled back into the front seat and called
over the radio. “Golf 181, this is Westmore. We are in route to your location,
being pursued and under fire. Over.”

Fletcher’s
voice came over the radio. “Roger. The welcome wagons will be ready.”

Looking
straight ahead Tyler shouted, “We got problems.”

Caden
had already seen it. Up ahead, three cars moved into position to block the
road. “Go left through the strip mall.”

As
they bounced through the parking lot, Caden reported the situation to Fletcher.

The
Humvee bounced over a speed bump.

The
private moaned.

Gilbert
slammed to his left. “Hey Tyler, maybe I could aim if you didn’t hit
everything.”

“Hold
on,” Tyler yelled and drove the Humvee off the curb and back onto the road.

Gilbert
cursed and fired.

 
Over the radio came Fletcher’s calm voice.
“Bravo 200 is approaching from the north where a drone has located a suspicious
group.”

“Roger.
If that group is not the target have them close on our position ASAP because I
definitely have Jihadists on my tail.”

Gilbert
collapsed into the back seat. Blood soaked his uniform.

“See
what you can do for him,” Caden said to Conner and crawled toward the gun
hatch.

Thunder
reverberated through the Humvee.

The
vehicle lurched left, then right, then flipped upside down.