FOXHOLE

RABID STATES: BOOK 3

SCOTT MEDBURY

Copyright © 2022 Scott Medbury

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

All characters and events depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Contents

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART ONE

Chapter One

“I’m pretty sure it’s abandoned, Captain,” said Stiles, handing the binoculars back to Crowley.

They were at the top of a hill under the cover of dense bushes overlooking a shallow valley. It was dominated by a sprawling concrete and steel complex which was unmistakably a prison, or ‘correctional facility’, as they liked to call them these days. An equally new, black ribbon of tarred road led from the front gate into the hills to their west and beyond, where he assumed it connected with the freeway south.

“That’s my thinking too,” Ed Crowley said to his newly promoted second-in-command. “The question is, why? If anywhere in the world is safe right now, its behind thirty-foot walls and fences topped with barbed wire.”

He was sure he had the answer, but he wanted to see what Stiles came up with. The soldier had big shoes to fill, and it would take a while before Crowley would come to rely on him as much as Teddy, but this was a part of that process.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s so new that they didn’t have time to populate it before things went to hell. See the freshly dug ground around the perimeter? Plus, there’s still some earthmoving equipment in that enclosure to the southern side. Road is freshly rolled out too.”

“Good work. We may have just found somewhere to deposit our civilians. After sunset, I want you to lead a team of five down to the front gate, gain access and reconnoiter to make sure it is empty, then report back.”

“Yes Sir! I’ll get on it now.”

Stiles crawled backwards out of the bushes and began to walk down the hill towards the makeshift camp they’d set up. Crowley put the field glasses back to his face and scanned the prison and its fenced grounds one more time before scoping the rest of the valley. He didn’t see movement anywhere, and there wasn’t much cover in the valley. If there were dogs, or any other dangers, they would see them coming a mile off.

They had set out forty-eight hours before from the abandoned base after managing to start the one remaining personnel carrier they’d located in the workshop, along with a Humvee and a Mazda that had been parked in the lot. His team had been whittled down to thirteen and the civilians numbered less than twenty. 

The ailing truck had given out four hours in, and by that time the Mazda’s fuel gauge was on empty. They had no choice but to hoof it from there, but he’d sent Stiles and Chase on in the Humvee to try and scope out a place for the civilians to hole up while they followed the trail of the evacuees.

They’d returned and reported on the location he was now looking at, but the Humvee was now also out of fuel. The prison seemed perfect, but Crowley wasn’t about to let his guard down. They’d encountered no large groupings of canines but had killed a handful of strays along the way. While that threat seemed to have waned, for the moment at least, he was still concerned about emerging threats of the two-legged variety.

He wouldn’t leave Josephine and the civilians until they’d done a thorough sweep of the facility. Once secure inside those walls, they would be safe from threat of dogs and men… he hoped.

He slid back out from the bushes, wincing at the pain in both his thigh and shoulder. The Alpha had really done a number on him, but Maria had patched him up as well as any field medic he had ever seen. The leg wound hadn’t been as deep as he’d first thought, but there was some nerve damage and he’d been left with a slight numbness in his big toe. He’d been given multiple doses of HRIG (Human rabies immune globulin) in and around the wound so he wasn’t concerned about the virus itself. As for his shoulder, while the teeth had broken uniform and skin, they hadn’t done any damage to the muscle—it just hurt like a bitch whenever he used it, but that would fade.

*

“How does it look?” Josephine asked him when he returned.

“Good,” he said, limping into the temporary camp. “Perfect actually. Looks like it was only just completed—so recent, in fact, they didn’t even have time to populate it.”

It was getting towards late afternoon, and everyone was settling down for grub. They’d managed to salvage a few boxes of MRE field rations, which the soldiers were handing out. There was enough to get the civilians by for two days with careful rationing, but they would need more food and supplies soon.

He and his team would have to forage on their mission south.

“You going to eat?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“To be honest I’d prefer a drink,” she said, moving to within a few inches of him. “Can you hook that up for me?”

He laughed softly.

“I think we’re all out, but how about you come up with me and I’ll show you your vacation stay.”

“Deal.”

A few minutes later, Josephine was looking through the binocs at the prison.

“Wow. Looks like no expense was spared. Nice of them to leave it for us.”

“Not sure it was by choice,” Crowley said. “Once we get the all-clear, we’ll settle in for the night and work out plans going forward.”

“Okay,” she handed the glasses back to him. “Stiles’ team is on the way back, they just turned out of the gates.”

“Good.”

“How shall we kill the ten minutes or so before he gets back?” she said, and touched her tongue to her bottom lip.

He shook his head and smiled regretfully before climbing to his feet and holding out a hand to help her up.

“By getting everyone ready to move.”

*

“It’s empty Sir, and by empty, I mean really empty. Looks like they left in a hurry—the gates were open so gaining entry wasn’t a problem.”

“Access inside?”

“As you feared, it’s all electronic, but the power is on. I figure they have their own power source not linked to the grid. There were a bunch of swipe cards in the inner guard house. That one we did have to break into.”

“Any signs of habitation?”

“Well, there is a bunch of furniture stacked in the warehouse and we did find one area where there were mattresses laid out on the floor and some chairs along with food wrappers, but no telling how long they’d been there. It’s possible it was left by the construction workers.”

“Where exactly?” said Crowley.

“If I had to hazard a guess, it was a space marked out for the cafeteria.”

Crowley scanned the prison again with his binoculars. Gate open and signs of habitation, he pondered.

“We did a comprehensive grid search, Sir,” said Stiles, picking up on his leader’s hesitation. “If there was someone, they’re not there now. And no dogs.”

Crowley nodded. Something niggled at the edge of his consciousness, but he brushed it aside.

“Alright. Let’s do this then. Get everyone packed and ready; I want everyone inside and settled by nightfall.”

*

From his perch in the north-eastern tower, a figure in camouflage raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth. 

“Looks like they are on the move, Weasel.”

“You have a number for me yet, Bates?”

“Nope, not yet. I saw at least four uniforms on the hill, plus the five who came down and reconnoitered the building. So at least nine armed and there look to be plenty of civilians.”

“Women?”

“A handful. And one’s a real stunner.”

“Good. And you’re sure the rest of the uniforms are army?”

“Yes Sir, although they look beat the hell up.”

“Okay. We’ll have to handle this carefully and with complete surprise, so keep your head down. Let me know when they’re approaching the gates.”

“Yes Sir.”

Weasel, the leader of a small, ragtag group of state militia from Texas, along with various survivor hangers-on, placed his walkie-talkie on the desk and surveyed the bank of screens in front of him. There were twenty in total. For now, they were monitoring different aspects of the northern wing, the biggest of the four ‘spokes’ in the cross-shaped building. It contained the main entrance, dock and administration areas of the prison, and was where the hostiles had just entered.

Weasel and his crew had set up their headquarters deep in the southern wing. This wing had been set aside for an infirmary, storage and the prison’s armory. Unfortunately, the building had never reached the point where it had been finished, let alone stocked with arms.

That was okay, they had plenty of weapons. They had been the first group of survivors to arrive at the Conroy Army Base. Rather than finding sanctuary as they had hoped, what they found was a base that had been abandoned and partially destroyed.

Weasel could only speculate as to what had happened, but given the numerous dead soldiers—dead by bullets, not by dog bite—it appeared there had been some sort of mutiny.

They had found no survivors, except for a kennel full of rabid service dogs, which they’d proceeded to use as target practice with the shitload of arms and ammunition they’d found.

Unfortunately, they had only found two vehicles in the parking lot, and one of those was burnt out. They gathered what they could carry, and were about to set out when they encountered a complication.

A second group of survivors. Three cops. They’d arrived in a dusty patrol cruiser and were none-too-happy to see Weasel and his crew, laden with arms and boxes of ammunition, exiting the base with the corpses of soldiers littering the ground behind them.

It had turned ugly quickly. After a few terse words, the cops had drawn weapons, the leader yelling for Weasel’s militiamen to drop their weapons. Recognizing the destroyed base meant that things had shifted dramatically in this new version of America, Weasel shot him between the eyes without a second thought and an instant later his men turned the others into bloody Swiss cheese.

Kill or be killed.

Discovering the prison had been another fortuitous turn of events, and after close to a month of traveling across two states, they took a vote and decided it was as good a place as any to call home. Plans were made, food was gathered, the valley was cleared of dogs. All they needed was women and it would be a real home.

They had taken a few days to fix the unfinished southern wing as a stronghold, cleverly hidden in case of unwanted visitors, and were set to go seeking out women to help populate their new home when Dougie, their resident nerd and tech geek, informed them that a large group, possibly US army, was heading their way. He’d spotted them with a small drone that he had been monitoring the roads around the valley with.

Weasel, who had almost ordered him to dump the extra equipment he had been pulling across the country in a four-wheeled travel bag, was relieved he had suppressed the impulse. He had a feeling that it wasn’t the last time Dougie, who had set up the bank of monitors in the southern wing, and his nerd suitcase would come in handy.

As much as the men wanted to go out and engage, Weasel decided it was best to wait in the fortified southern wing and monitor the situation. He had a man in the tower and the surveillance equipment inside the prison to keep him across the situation. Why risk a firefight with highly trained soldiers if there was another way?

So, they had waited, and it had been tense as the scouting team had entered the building, even tenser when they had entered the southern wing, coming close enough that he’d heard soldiers’ voices through the dummy drywall they’d erected less than a week before.

A tall figure joined Weasel in the surveillance tower.

“They are coming back with the rest of their caravan,” said Weasel.

“We’re ready for them, Ron.”

“We better be, Jackson. These guys are the real deal; we outnumber them and have the element of surprise, but we’ll have to be on point. Give the men a warning, I want radio silence and hush. I’ll brief them when I have more intel.”

“Roger,” said Jackson and disappeared.

Ron ‘Weasel’ Toohey turned back to the monitors. He was of average height and in the oversized camouflage uniform he looked slender, but the clothing actually hid a wiry frame wrapped in ropey muscle. It was his face rather than his frame that was the inspiration for his nickname. He had deep brown eyes with a big, sharp nose and a face that thinned to a pointed chin.

What had been a disparaging name created by thoughtless schoolmates had turned into something more of a mark of respect in adulthood. Weasel was a formidable hand-to-hand fighter and was also the best shot of any in the ragtag group he now led. Now the moniker was more to do with the predatory traits of his namesake than anything else.  

*

Two hours later he got the call he’d been waiting for from Bates.

“They’re five minutes out from the gates, Sir.”

“Roger. Good work, you can leave your post and make your way back down to us now. Make it snappy.”

“Roger, Sir.”

With Jackson at his side, Weasel watched the screens intently as the group arrived at the gate and then made their entry into the prison. The civilians were unimportant at this stage; it was the soldiers that held his attention.

They looked tired, dirty and hungry, and it was easy to see they’d been through some hardship. There were only thirteen of them. That gave his twenty-one-man team a number advantage, although he had no illusion that if it came down to a straight out battle, it would be a close thing. Some of the men in his team were nothing but hairy-ass boys, and as much shooting practice as they’d had while they were clearing the valley of canines, taking on trained soldiers who shot back would be a whole different ballgame.

“They don’t look like a fighting fit unit to me,” said Jackson.

“Really Jackson?” Weasel said sharply, without peeling his eyes from the screen. “I can see why you would think that at first glance. But I see a battle-hardened team with a civilian payload to protect and probably nothing to lose, just like us.”

 Jackson shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“We can’t afford to take them lightly, understand?”

“Yes Sir.”

The strangers entered the main entrance and were directed down the corridor by the one who had led the scouting team earlier.

“Where do you think they’ll settle?”

“Almost certainly the Hub.”

The Hub was the name they’d given to the cavernous area in the hub of the prison, a large quadrangle, overlooked by a gantry that ran all the way around. Weasel figured it had been earmarked as a leisure area if the place had ever gotten off the ground. All that was in there currently was some wrapped furniture, cots and tables and chairs, stacked along one wall.

If he’d wanted to settle people in, that’s where he’d do it, at least initially, rather than separating everybody into cells or smaller zones.

A few minutes later his guess was confirmed. He flicked from the northern wing to the Hubs’s cameras, and sat down on a chair to watch the newcomers settle into what they no doubt thought might be their new digs.

One of the soldiers stood out. He was a tall no-nonsense customer who was well-built, and despite his torn, bloody uniform and a limping gait, he carried himself with authority as he directed soldiers and civilians. Weasel zoomed in one of the cameras and confirmed his guess when he spied the captain’s insignia over the man’s sternum.

The name tag on the right side of his chest was obscured by blood, and he could only make out CROW. Crowther? Crowdace? Crowley? It didn’t matter too much.

“For now, we’ll call you Crow.”

He panned back out and his eyes narrowed as an attractive woman, no doubt the ‘stunner’ that Bates had referred to, approached the captain and put a hand on his arm. The big man leaned over her and said something in her ear, which elicited a squeeze of her hand.

The Weasel’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded imperceptibly.

“Jackson, rustle me up a coffee, will you? I may have found a way we can take these people without firing a shot. Oh, while I think of it, talk to Dougie and see if he’s got anything in his bag of tricks he may be able to rig up as a listening device. I want to know what these people are saying.”

Chapter 2

Sergeant Theodore ‘Teddy’ O’Connor emerged from the tunnel with one hand raised to protect his eyes from the bright sunshine, and the other the holding his small knife.

The area was empty. No sign of dogs or humans apart from foot and paw prints and an unnaturally large dog turd twenty-feet distant. He didn’t waste anytime, simply slid the knife back in his boot and scrambled up onto the pipe, where he paused and looked up the hill at the farmhouse they had been heading for.

His heart began to beat hard in his chest. There were many bodies on the hill. Not all of them were dogs…  

Twenty minutes later he was feeling horrified but slightly relieved. So far, his recon of the house and the surrounds had not produced a dead Crowley. It had yielded two dead soldiers and four civilians though.

There was only one place left to check now. The Barn.

He made his way over holding a pistol he’d found on the battlefield. Pushing through the door he found another civilian, this one with his throat torn out. That dead body was barely a blip on his radar though, because twenty feet away in the gloom he saw another shape. This one wore a uniform.

Again, his heart began to pound as he slowly made his way towards the body.

“Oh Jesus!” he said explosively, not realizing he had been holding his breath. The soldier’s body, face down in a large pool of dried blood, was missing its head. It was impossible to identify the dead soldier, and it was with a sense of doom he leaned over, gathering up the courage to turn the corpse over and check the name tag.

He got as far as putting a hand on the dead soldier’s shoulder but couldn’t bring himself to do it. What if it was Crowley? What the hell would he do? He looked to the ceiling and expelled another pent-up breath.

“I don’t know if you’re up there. But please, if you are, don’t let it be Crowley…”

He looked back down and was about to flip the body over when he glimpsed a pale shape partially hidden by a rough-hewn post. It could only be one thing. He rose to his feet and walked over to the post, bracing himself for the worst as his eyes fell on the face staring vacantly at the ceiling of the barn, a look of terror frozen across its features.

“Radcliffe, you poor bastard.”

No one deserved an ending like that, not even Radcliffe. Feeling sick, Teddy looked around and pulled a filthy hand towel hanging from a rusty nail on the post and threw it over the soldier’s face. 

Then he surveyed the rest of the barn and spotted a dark hulking shape in the shadows beneath the hayloft. He made his way over, pistol in hand. The deeper he went into the cavernous barn, the darker it was. The shape became more defined. He knew it was canine. And big. Also not moving, but where there was one, there could be more.

He was within five feet when suddenly there was movement and a loud noise above him. O’Connor ducked and swiveled the gun towards the ruckus, just in time to see a barn owl fly out of the barn, a single feather floating down to land at his feet.

“Jesus! You nearly gave me a heart attack you bastard.”

He exhaled as he turned back to the shape.

“Screw it,” he said aloud, and crossed the space without further caution.

He recognized the Alpha immediately. It was a mess, the skin on one side of its body burned away, and a big old pitchfork buried deep in its chest. He surveyed the area. There were blood splatters and signs of a struggle everywhere. Whatever had gone down it had been one hell of a fight. Playing out the scenario in his mind, he could think of only one man in the whole team who would be ballsy and skillful enough to take out the Alpha. Crowley. He was alive or had been when he’d left the farm with those who had survived the battle.

“Not bad, old boy…”

With the weight of dread lifted from his shoulders, Teddy grasped the handle of the pitchfork, put his foot against the carcass of the dog and wrenched the pitchfork clear. He then walked back over to Radcliffe’s body.

The bodies of his men left where they fell meant Crowley had decided it was too dangerous to delay their departure to bury them. Teddy would rectify that.

He spent the next four hours digging a grave big enough to be the final resting place of the four soldiers killed at the farmhouse. Luckily the soil in the field was soft and loamy. Digging was a picnic compared to moving the bodies and body parts.

On his knees, he patted the last of the soil down and climbed wearily to his feet. He looked down at the mound and shook his head. He had never been good at funerals, especially those of comrades.

“Boys, you didn’t deserve this. None of us do, and I apologize now for the crappy send off but it’s all I got, okay? Our father who art in heaven…”

When he finished the only prayer he knew, he wiped a tear away and sighed.

“Rest in peace, boys.”

The light was fading by the time he got back to the farmhouse. He washed up in a water trough behind the house and then headed inside. He was fatigued and his body ached all over. He just wanted to go upstairs and sleep but knew he had to put something in his stomach. Eating was the last thing on his mind, but he forced himself to eat a can of cream corn, probably his least favorite canned vegetable, that he found at the rear of the top shelf of the stripped pantry.

He had thought of making himself up a pack of supplies but the empty pantry put to bed those plans. He was about to head upstairs when he spied a glint of metal under the table, in the near darkness of the kitchen. Closer inspection revealed it to be a brass pull handle. Basement? He wondered.

He quickly slid the table out of the way and pulled up the trapdoor.

He could make out the first few well-worn wooden steps, but it was as black as ink further in. After his experience in the darkness with old Shardik the rabid bear, he decided whatever was in the basement, it could wait for morning.

The brief excitement over for now, he decided he was done for the day, so he headed upstairs and collapsed onto a single bed that he found behind the first door he came to, which appeared to be a kid’s bedroom.

*

It took Crowley and his team two hours to move furniture and settle everyone into their new accommodation. The mood of the civilians and his men was noticeably lighter. They had all been through hell and back, and now, behind walls designed to keep people in but just as effective at keeping people—and more importantly dogs—out, they felt safe for the first time since they’d left Jeff’s cabin.

The area that Stiles had supposed was going to be a meal or leisure area now looked something more akin to a barracks. Amidst the stacks of furniture, they had found cots and mattresses that had been destined to house convicts. They had been spaced out evenly against opposite walls in the large square-shaped space, one side for the civilians and the other for his depleted team.

He sat on a cot as he watched his men serving up late afternoon grub. It would be an early night for all of them; no one had managed more than a few hours’ shuteye since the battle at the farmhouse and, like him, more than a few of them carried injuries.

“You look like shit,” said Josephine, sidling up to Crowley after she’d seen to the children.

“You should see the other guy.”

“Oh, I did. Seriously though, how are you feeling?”

“Sore and sorry, but it’ll pass.”

“So, what’s the plan? I’ve heard some rumors, but I want to hear it from you.”

“Well, the plan was to find somewhere safe to deposit your people, then move onto Conroy base and bring back help. I think we’ve fulfilled the first part of the mission.”

She nodded.

“Don’t you think you would have heard if Conroy, or anyone else in authority for that matter, was still functioning?”

He looked at her and shrugged.

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“Then maybe we should all just stay here? At least until we’ve licked our wounds and gained some of our strength back. For chrissakes Crowley, you nearly got eaten by a dog.”

He looked down at his boots, choosing his next words carefully.

“We need to know what’s happened and what the government is doing about housing displaced civilians. The quickest way to do that is to leave you behind in relative safety and go to Conroy. The sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll be back.”

“‘We’? You’re going too? In your condition?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch. “What are we supposed to do if there’s trouble?”

“Well, I’m not leaving you here defenseless,” he said, defensively. “I plan to leave a small team.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed Crowley, you are already a small team. What difference do you think you’re going to make down there at Conroy if its still standing?”

He couldn’t argue with that. His team had been whittled down to thirteen and as it stood, would have little to offer in the way of manpower or weaponry. Was it a fool’s errand?

Suddenly feeling dog tired, he buried his face in his hands and rubbed it vigorously before looking up at her.

“Maybe it would be better to send a small team down to Conroy and keep the majority of us here till we know the lay of the land. No promises, but I’ll take on board what you said and sleep on it before I talk it over with Stiles in the morning.”

She nodded.

“Thank you, Ed. You should hit the sack, you look as exhausted as I feel.”

“More sore than anything. Do you think Maria could rustle me up an Ibuprofen capsule or twenty, and a whiskey to wash them down?”

“How about four capsules and a sip of water?”

He laughed.

“You drive a hard bargain, but I’ll take that deal.”

Within an hour, everyone had bedded down for their first night in the prison. They had managed to chain the main gate and the prison was locked down as tight as it might have been if it had made it to its opening day. Crowley didn’t bother setting guards—he wanted everyone to get the sleep they needed while they were safe.

He wasn’t to know that the biggest danger to them was not outside those high, reinforced walls.

As she drifted off, Josephine wondered exactly how permanent their temporary home might become, and began to theorize how they could make it a home in the event they decided to stay.

*

“Are we going to take them now?” Jackson asked.

Weasel was still leaning over the monitors even though the last of their visitors had lain down ten minutes before.

“No. Not yet.”

“Why?”

Weasel sighed, and stood up to stretch.

“Because Jackson, I don’t think it’s the right time. It’s been a long day for our men too, and I want them well rested when we tackle this operation. I also want to see what these people have planned. Maybe they don’t stay. Maybe they deposit the civilians here and head back to base. Maybe they all stay and begin life in this new dystopian world.

“The last thing I want though, is our men lumbering and lashing out in the dark against combat-hardened soldiers and screaming civilians.”

Jackson’s mouth thinned into a hard line.

“Yes Sir.”

“Do you have a problem with that?” said the Weasel, moving into his personal space and looking up into the taller man’s face.

Jackson took a step back. He had seen firsthand how ruthless and unpredictable the man in front of him could be. Right now, he seemed particularly dangerous.

“Sorry, I wasn’t questioning your decision. It just seemed like an ideal time.”

Weasel stared at him a little longer before finally breaking his gaze and giving Jackson a pat on the shoulder. He turned and began to walk out of the room, then stopped at the door and looked back at the other man.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask a question Jackson, just watch your attitude when you don’t get the answer you want. I don’t want to have to shoot my second-in-charge now, do I?”

Jackson hadn’t moved and his eyes widened slightly at the comment.

Weasel burst out laughing.

“I wish you could see your face! I’m just kidding Jackson! Come on, let’s get some eats and settle in for the night.”

Jackson followed Weasel out, unconvinced he had been joking at all. 

Chapter 3

Teddy was awoken by the raucous cawing of a crow. He stared at the ceiling for a full minute as he processed the events of recent days. When he finally sat up, he groaned at the aches and pains in his body, a combination of the bumps and bruises he’d suffered when the bear had dragged him through the pipeline, and muscles tested by the long dig the day before.

“Too old for this shit,” he grated, as he stood up and slipped the Desert Eagle he’d found the day before into his belt.

He didn’t know what time he’d fallen into bed, but the sun was high in the sky and streaming through the kitchen windows when he went downstairs.

He leaned over and looked down the steep staircase into the basement. There was enough light above and below to see it looked like your average run-of-the-mill basement, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances. He took out the pistol and held it as he cautiously made his way barefoot down the creaking steps.

The basement, lit by three narrow windows, was crowded with junk and dusty furniture and assorted items of machinery. Whoever the owner had been, they’d been a hoarder and a disorganized one at that.

It didn’t look promising, but he began rummaging anyway. An hour and many curses later he had given up, and had taken two steps back up towards the kitchen when he spied an old moth-eaten sofa that had been hidden from eye level by a wall of books in cartons. It was roughly box shaped and covered by an old towel.

More curious than hopeful, he negotiated his way to the great wall of old books and began stacking them to the side until he was able to climb over.

He whipped off the old towel like a magician performing a parlor trick and under it found a box containing… cans of sweet cream corn. Teddy shook his head and looked up to the heavens.

‘Seriously dude? Cream corn? Would it have been too much to ask for peas or fuckin’ beans?”

In fact, Teddy knew he was blessed to have found anything edible in the farmhouse given that Crowley’s people would have taken all they could carry.

“Maybe the damned corn won’t be too bad if I heat it up.”

On his way back up the staircase with the box under his arm, he grabbed a nylon shopping bag that was hanging on a hook on the wall and tipped out the old pair of shoes it contained, sending them tumbling to the basement floor.

He pulled on his boots and flak jacket and then loaded the tote bag with six cans of corn and an old plastic Coke bottle filled with water from the pump out back.

When he left the farmhouse, he was happily whistling an old Beatles song as he went.

Before nightfall, he would be reunited with Crowley and his team back at base.

*

Crowley awoke to the sound of conversation and laughter. Blinking sleep away, he sat up and found every other person in their band of survivors sitting at the tables his men had set up in the middle of the hub.

“Sleeping Beauty awakes,” said Josephine, earning some laughs. “Come and get some breakfast, Captain Crowley.”

Grinning sheepishly and feeling much better than he had when he fell asleep the night before, Crowley padded over and pulled up a chair with his men, who had gravitated to one end and the civilians at the other.

Stiles passed him a half a can of baked beans and a plate with a fork and two saltine crackers on it.

“Enjoy that,” said Josephine. “We have to start rationing more strictly from today on unless we find more food.”

Crowley nodded thoughtfully as he began to eat the cold beans and crackers hungrily.

When he was done and had washed the food down with a tin mug of bitter black coffee, Crowley looked over at Stiles.

“We need to talk,” Crowley said, and led Stiles over to the bunks.

“We need to map out our next steps. I’ve changed my mind about Conroy. I’m not fully fit, and it’s too risky for me to lead on what might be a dangerous trek. I want you to lead a group of seven down to Conroy, find vehicles and make contact and explore the option of an evac of our civilians to there. I’ll stay here with the other four men, and we’ll split our resources between guarding the civilians and scouting the closest town for food and supplies. What do you think?”   

“Sounds good, Captain. It’s just… do you think I’m ready?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have made you my 2IC if I didn’t think you could handle a mission like this.” Crowley clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine, son.”

"Yes Sir. What's the timeframe for this?"

“You and your team will head out at 0600 hours tomorrow. That gives us the rest of the day with a full compliment to get this area ship-shape. Gather the men at 0900 this morning and I’ll brief them on what's going to happen and my expectations. After that I want you to liaise with Ms Josephine to see what she needs in the way of shuffling furniture."

"Yes Sir."

Crowley sought out Josephine after he dismissed Stiles. He found her sitting with her grandfather, holding his hand and talking quietly. The old man looked as hardy as ever, but not as chirpy as he usually was.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Abuelo is depressed."

"Rubbish, Granddaughter!" scoffed the old man, some of the fire returning to his eyes. "Sheesh, forgive a man for not dancing like a monkey every hour of the day!"

Josephine rolled her eyes and Crowley suppressed a grin. “Admit it old man, you are moping this morning."

"Well, it's this place. You know, my people came to this country and fought hard to stay out of places like this. In all my life, I’ve never set foot in a prison and here I am, about to spend God knows how long in this one,” he sighed. “Worse, my granddaughter and all these other people and children are inside these walls. When can they leave? Even if this base you are seeking is okay and they let us in, aren't we just swapping walls for fences? I'm nearly done here on Earth, but I'm sad for all of you. What kind of life will it be?"

"You're right, it is sad," said Crowley. "We all have a right to be depressed, I guess. The good news is there is still light at the end of the tunnel. I'm pretty sure people have been through worse times and survived."

"Worse than killer dogs roaming the countryside and eating everyone?"

Josephine cuffed her abuelo gently but Crowley only chuckled.

“Well, you have me there, but I'm pretty sure that we'll find a way to eradicate the problem and then we can start to rebuild. Don't write off the good old US of A yet."

"I hope you're right, son."

Looking past Crowley, he spotted Irene, who Josephine referred to as his new ‘squeeze’, and without ceremony excused himself, making his way over to her with a spring in his step. Josephine's wide eyes followed him.

"Well, he seems to have gotten over his depression. I wouldn't be too worried about him," Crowley said. "Maybe you should have Irene on standby!"

"Yeah. I should have known better. He doesn't exactly look suicidal now, does he?"

"Not at all," Crowley confirmed.

“I just wanted to let you know, I changed my mind about taking a big team down to Conroy. Stiles will lead a smaller team out at 0600 hours tomorrow, but there'll be six of us left here."

"Okay, that sounds like a better plan," said Josephine.

"After I brief the men, Stiles will come to see you about setting this area up for an extended stay, so work with him to get it the way you would like it. While that is happening, I'm going

to take three men out to try and find a vehicle and a map we can use to locate the nearest population center. Then, if it’s nearby, we may just head there right away. If not, we’ll return and plan a small operation to restock supplies.” 

Josephine didn’t protest. She was happy that he had changed his mind about the mission to Conroy and felt that if she told him he shouldn’t go out at all until he was fully fit, it would come across as clingy.

“Sounds like a plan, Stan. How long will you be gone?”

“Depends on finding a vehicle, how much fuel it has, and the proximity of the nearest town. It’s possible that if we find something, we’ll have to stay out overnight to preserve fuel. No point driving back to sleep in safety if we run the tank empty and don’t have the range to take it out again.”

Josephine nodded.

“That will leave two men here for security if we’re not back by the time Stiles and his team head out.”

“That’s fine, two is more than enough given that we are inside a prison with fifty-feet-high walls.”

Once he had squared away the plans with Josephine, Crowley went to begin briefing his team.

*

“See, Jackson?” said Weasel Toohey, holding the headphones close against his ears.

They were both hunkered over the monitors and listening to Crowley’s briefing. While the sound quality wasn’t perfect, it was certainly good enough to hear every word spoken.

Behind them, Dougie virtually hopped from foot to foot as he watched the two men listening to the conversation from the hub.

Jackson nodded. He was big enough to admit Weasel had been right. The 24-hour delay meant that instead of ambushing a full compliment in the dark, and blind and the dangers that presented, their quarry was splitting into two teams, and with a bit of luck both would be outside of the prison from 0600 hours the next morning.

They took off their headsets when Crowley dismissed his group.

“Did it work okay?” asked Dougie eagerly.

“It worked a treat Dougie,” said Weasel clapping him hard on the shoulder. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Well, it was easy, I already had a parabolic listening device, all I had to do was join some cables so that they’d be long enough to go through the ducts and then-”

Weasel put a finger over his lips and the kid shut up instantly.

“It wasn’t a question Dougie. I don’t need to know, that’s what I have you for. Just keep up the good work. Now, go and find something to keep yourself busy.”

Having been on the sharp end of Weasel’s temper before, Dougie didn’t have to be asked twice. He gave an awkward salute and turned tail. 

“What are your thoughts, Sir?” asked Jackson, eager to hear when they were going to make their move.

Weasel put the fingers of both hands together into a steeple and looked at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Well, obviously we monitor the situation. If the crew this captain is leading out aren’t back by sundown, it means we have a very large window from 6am tomorrow. They are leaving two soldiers, so I think we’ll set a trap. If we have to, we’ll create a diversion to draw them away from the civilians into an ambush and neutralize them, or if they are…”

“Neutralize?” Jackson interrupted.

“Yes!” snapped the Weasel. “Kill, butcher, slaughter! Got it?”

Jackson’s face turned crimson.

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Once that problem is taken care of, we get the civilians under control and wait for the captain and his men to return. We may ambush them. Or I might just ask nicely that they surrender, and because I’ll have a gun against his girlfriend’s head as leverage, I’m sure he’ll be amendable to that. Any questions?”

“So, then we neutralize the captain and his men?”

Weasel looked at him as if he’d suddenly grown another head.

“No, Jackson,” he sighed, and shook his head. “We don’t neutralize him. He becomes leverage. The team he’s sending to Conroy obviously won’t find anyone alive there, but if they do stumble over more military or state forces or even if they come back armed to the teeth with weapons from the base, we have the good captain and the other men sitting in brand-spanking-new prison cells as insurance.”

Jackson nodded. He had to give it to the asshole, he’d thought of everything.

“Yes Sir, I’ll go brief the men. Unless you want to..?”

“No, it’s fine. Get to it.”

After Jackson had gone, Toohey slid the office chair he was sitting on over to a filing cabinet. Without standing up, he slipped a key from his shirt pocket, unlocked the bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass tumbler.

He filled it halfway, then locked the cabinet before sliding back over to the monitors where he settled in to watch the interlopers, like a zookeeper watching chimps play.

Chapter 4

At 10.21 Crowley was ready to take his team out, but first he pulled Stiles aside.

“We most likely won’t be back before sundown, so make sure you stick to the plan and leave at 0600. As per the brief, leave Metcalf and Carter to watch over the civilians and Dustin will be your second-in-command.”

“Yes Sir,” Stiles said, saluting.

“Metcalf, Carter!”

The soldiers, now amongst the youngest of the survivors, came over quickly. 

“Sergeant Stiles moves out at 0600. Make sure you’re up and at ‘em when they leave. I anticipate my team and I’ll be back sometime after midday. Until then, you’re it—no one and nothing comes through that front gate, got it?”

“Yes Sir!”

“Repeat your orders.”

“Myself to stand guard at the entrance, Sir,” said Carter, a shy kid with a nervous tic that made his cheek spasm occasionally. “Private Metcalf to guard the civilians.”

“Good. Do me proud, boys.”

“Yes Sir!”

Crowley’s team was assembled and ready to go by 10:30. There was only one more thing to take care of. He pulled Josephine aside. Although they were out of earshot, they were in view of everyone in the big open space.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m good. You?”

“Bit stiff but I’m operational. The good night’s sleep did me wonders.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, clearly not believing he was as okay as he made out to be.

“Carter and Metcalf are staying behind. Do you still have your gun?”

She nodded.

“Will I need it?”

He shrugged.

“I’ve learned to never say never but I’m 99% sure there won’t be a problem. Everyone should have life insurance though, right?”

She smiled.

“I’m 100% sure, but not so sure about you guys.”

“We’ll be fine. I plan to be back early tomorrow afternoon and will expect a nice warm meal as a reward.”

“Bring me back a nice bottle of white and you have a deal.” As they separated, she put a hand on his forearm. “Come back to me Crowley.”

“I plan to.”

*

“Tsk, tsk Captain. Fraternizing with the civilians,” said Weasel, his dark eyes illuminated eerily by the bright screens in front of him.

He watched until the captain and his small team left, then, feeling it was safe to leave the monitors for the first time in eighteen hours, he went to find Jackson. It was time his 2IC took over the surveillance so he could sleep.

In twenty hours they would get their opportunity to subdue the civilian group and prepare for the captain’s return. 

*

After they had locked the padlock on the heavy chain they’d used to secure the gate, Crowley set out with Chase, Coleman and Mancini at a fast walk. Chase led as directed and Crowley, slower than the rest due to his injuries, brought up the rear. Chase and the others followed the weaving ribbon of brand-new asphalt to the top of the ridge where they paused to wait for Crowley. It took him five minutes to reach them.

“Sorry, boys,” he said at the top.

“It’s fine Sir, no time limits on this one.”

“No,” he agreed, taking out his canteen and drinking. “Okay, from memory the T junction is about two miles once we get over that last hill. I saw a sign to a place called Macksville—I’m hoping if we turn there, we’ll come across houses where we can find a car and then drive to the town and see what we can find.”

*

The sun was almost touching the horizon when Teddy caught site of the base in the distance. It took him another twenty-five minutes to reach its gates, but his hopes had been dashed long before that as he drew nearer and saw the damage wreaked on the base.

The collapsed perimeter fence and pile of dog carcasses along with the mauled soldiers inside painted a vivid picture of what had happened. The only question was, had Crowley and the rest arrived before or after the battle?

Teddy estimated he had a half hour of light left when he entered the grounds. He held his breath as he checked some of the stinking bodies. He was no forensics expert, but the level of putrefaction told him that the base may have fallen a good few days ago.

None were fresher than that and he found no sign of any of Crowley’s team or the civilians amongst the dead. Now the burning question was, where the hell were they? He headed for the avenue that led to the main building, oblivious to the silver recording device he almost stepped on, lying in the long grass.

On point in case there were still animals inside the base, he made his way into the building and headed for the command center with gun in hand to see if he could find a clue. Regardless of what he found, he knew he would be spending the night with ghosts. He found nothing in the conference room except scattered papers and now-useless tech.

With daylight fading fast and feeling downhearted and at a loss as to his next move, he decided to go to the cafeteria to try and scrounge some food to eat before sleeping. He would decide his next move in the morning. Passing the office of the aide-de-camp Lieutenant Bennett, he noticed the door was ajar with a bloody handprint marring the imitation beech laminate surface of the door.

With his heart rate quickening, he pushed open the door slowly and entered, his eyes immediately drawn to the whiteboard behind the desk and the words scrawled on it.

EVAC TO CONROY.

Under it was map co-ordinates, but he didn’t need them. He’d been stationed in Conroy for the first six months of his service. It was south, just this side of the border with Texas and about three-and-a-half-hours by car. There was no doubt in his mind that Crowley and his team would be guiding the civilians there.

Feeling much lighter, he left the room and headed to the cafeteria where hopefully he’d find something, anything, other than cream corn.

What he actually found in the way of canned food was nada but a search of the walk-in freezer, which had obviously thawed days ago, unearthed three loaves of bread that, while not fresh, hadn’t yet grown mold. After a meal of six slices of stale bread, slathered with the remains of a bottle of ketchup and washed down with warm Sprite, he headed back to the conference room where he bedded down on the table with his flak jacket as a pillow. He had a destination, now he needed a vehicle—walking for three days through hostile country was not an option.

*

After three hours of hard walking, Crowley and his team got to the top of a rise and finally spotted a house. They had traveled at least two miles since turning for Macksville and the captain had to suppress a sigh of relief. His body was screaming for a reprieve. There were at least two car roofs behind the house, visible from their position.

“Two vehicles,” said Chase, putting the binocs to his eyes. “Can’t make out anything more than the roofs though.” He scanned the rest of the property.

It was a simple square-shaped acre of land with a dilapidated house sitting smack-bang in the middle. The yard was overgrown with long grass and weeds, and it was separated from the county land around it by a simple three-strand wire fence.

“No sign of movement, Sir.”

“Okay, Chase, you and I will go in via the front gate. Mancini, Coleman, you head into that stand of trees and cover us. There may be survivors or canines, so be on the lookout for any movement. If you see a canine come at us, shoot to kill. Humans, you leave to me.”

“Yes Sir.”

Once they were safely in the trees, Crowley nodded to Chase, and they began to walk the rest of the way down the hill to the front gate.

They took it nice and easy on the walk up the dirt driveway, Crowley watching the house and windows for movement that didn’t eventuate, while Chase swept his rifle from side to side, scanning for anything that might be hiding in the long grass.

Crowley signaled Chase to halt and nimbly climbed the steps of the rickety front porch. With care, he checked both windows. All he saw inside was worn furniture—no bodies. No movement. Another nod and with Chase on point, they turned the corner of the house, and sticking to the shadows, headed for the backyard.

Crowley felt tension for the first time in many days. Tension was good though. Being relaxed in a situation like this was the enemy. Chase stopped and listened when he got to the rear corner of the house. Once he confirmed there was nothing to be heard, he counted down with his fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

And went around the corner, barrel first, moving this way and that before relaxing as Crowley joined him. An old Ford pickup truck and an older model Hyundai sedan were parked side by side. The cars didn’t keep their attention for long.

Ten feet away, just to the side of the back door stoop, were the butchered remains of a large dog on a chain, its head and jaws showing the telltale deforming effects of Rabies 2.0 and in front of it, the eaten leftovers of a man, a bloody machete lying on the grass beside him. Chase immediately bent over and ejected what was left of his breakfast into the brown grass. Crowley managed to keep his down but felt that awful watering at the back of his throat, which signaled it may not remain down for long.

On the surface, it seemed obvious what had happened: dog attacks man, man kills dog as his last act, and they both died where they dropped. Except something was not quite right, and it took him two or three seconds to process it.

The dog had no blade wounds. Its belly had literally been ripped open and consumed. He took a step closer and what he spotted next horrified him. Human bite marks.

“Jesus… Chase-”

A bloodcurdling scream and movement in his peripheral vision alerted him of the danger a moment too late, and by the time he’d swung around, his rifle brought to bear on the threat, Chase was falling to the ground, a semi-naked, blood-caked woman with matted, long grey hair clawing and biting at his throat as they tumbled into the dirt.

PART TWO

Chapter 5

Teddy awoke at dawn and groaned as he got off the table. His abused muscles had mostly recovered, but the crick in his neck from sleeping on the hard surface shrieked in protest when he stood up.

“What I wouldn’t give for one fucking night on a real bed with a pillow.”

He winced as he put his flak jacket back on, picked up his bag and chewed on a dry piece of bread as he left the main building and went around to the visitor parking lot. It was slim pickings. There were two cars, one was a burn out shell and the other a nondescript Mazda sedan. It was locked.

Teddy, no car thief picked up a fist sized rock and smashed the drivers door window and reached in to use the handle to pull it open. The car alarm started to squawk immediately.

“Aww shit!”

He quickly looked behind the visor, then under the seat and in the glove box for keys but found nothing. He had no idea how to hotwire a car, in fact had no clue if you could even do it to late model cars.

“Where’s Bruce Willis when you need him.”

He slammed the door in disgust, unable to bear the sound of the alarm anymore. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop it.

Feeling helpless he ran his hand through his car and then lashed out with his boot.

“Shaddup!” 

Frustrated beyond believe he put some space between him and the shrieking vehicle by walking towards the boom gate. When he got there, he put his hands on it and leaned over it squeezing his eyes closed.

“Please God, make it stop!”

Suddenly it did just that.

Shocked, Teddy swung around and looked back at the offending vehicle as if he didn’t quite believe it. It was still there, but now as quiet as it had been before he broke into it.

“Well, halle-fucking-lujah God, thank you for listeni…”

Teddy’s eyes widened. From this vantage he realized there was something that he hadn’t spotted next the burnt-out hatchback. He broke into a run.

“Oh! Wait, are you kidding me! A goddamn moped! Woo hoo!”     

Teddy skidded to a halt next to the machine, and felt like screaming for joy when he saw that there was a key in the ignition. The fact that it was on a keychain with a rabbit’s foot wasn’t lost on him, but he was putting all the credit in someone else’s corner and made the sign of the cross before climbing aboard and slipping his bag between his feet.

He grasped the key in his right hand.

“If this has a full tank of gas, I’ll never ask you for anything again!”

He held his breath as he switched it to the on position. The needle on the gas gauge came to life and rested just under three quarters full. He let the breath out and then spent a few minutes trying to start it, before finally working out that he had to pull the brake handle when he pressed the ignition button to start it.

The little engine roared straight to life, and without wasting a second, he turned away from the wreck and circled back and then into the base before heading along the main drive, and out through the broken main gates.

Once on the open road, no matter how he tried he couldn’t get the damn thing to go over 30 miles per hour. It didn’t phase him too much, and in fact was probably better as he didn’t have any protection for his eyes. When he finally turned onto the highway south, he couldn’t help humming Born to be Wild and wondered what Crowley and the others would think if they could see him now.

*

As hard as it was for him to process what he was seeing, Crowley operated on auto pilot rounding on the pair but unable to reach them before the old woman jerked her head, tearing open Chase’s throat in a gout of crimson and glaring at Crowley with bloodshot eyes. The flap of skin hung from the jagged teeth in her horribly elongated lower jaw, the skin of the terrifying visage was cracked and fissured where it had stretched and broken to allow the abnormal growth of the bone and teeth.

Crowley made a noise, part disgust and part rage, deep in his throat and slammed the butt of his rifle into the hag’s nose, collapsing her face in on itself and sending her skidding away as Chase vainly tried to staunch the flow of his lifeblood, draining through his fingers in ever decreasing spurts.

Crowley dropped to his knees and took Chase in his arms. The young soldier looked at him, the spatters of blood standing out starkly against his pale face. He tried to speak.

“Easy son. Don’t try to talk. We’ll get you seen to asap,” he lied. 

A single tear, leaked from the corner of Chase’s eye. Crowley knew that he knew his C.O. was lying, but he nodded weakly.

“It’s been an honor to have you in my command Corporal…”

The kid went still, his stare becoming fixed on something no one on this side of mortality had ever seen. Crowley closed his eyes with his open hand and eased the deceased soldier to the ground before standing up with rifle in hand.

Mancini and Coleman came rushing into the yard as Crowley stood over the old woman who was coming too with a pitiful moaning. 

“What-”

“Capt-”

Their questions and the woman’s moaning were silenced by the burst of automatic fire that finished the job on her head.

“Jesus,” said Coleman, going over and kneeling by his friend. He looked at Crowley, wiping tears out of his eyes. ‘She did this?”

The captain nodded.

“Infected with the same virus.”

Coleman nodded, his own face noticeably paler at the implications of this new piece of knowledge, given that he and Crowley had also been bitten by infected animals.

“We don’t have to worry Coleman, we both had the vaccine before we were bitten and doses of HRIG within in an hour of being mauled. If we were going to turn into…” He looked down at the woman’s body, “if we were going to fall ill it would have happened within hours or a day.”

Coleman requested permission to bury his buddy, and Crowley couldn’t refuse him even if it would cost them hours.

“Do me a favor first though, will you? Help me drag these bodies down back. I’m going to burn them.”

Once they’d moved the bodies dumping them on a pile of wood cuttings, the two soldiers went to work digging a grave with tools they found in the big shed behind the cars. Crowley set about making a pyre dragging rubbish and more branches until he’d covered the bodies.  

On the way to the house to find something he could start the fire with, he checked the vehicles. The pickup was definitely not in working order, but the Hyundai looked like it had been driven recently and had stickers on the plates that were still within date.

It was open, but there were no keys in the ignition.

Crowley emerged from the musty smelling house with a small bottle of kerosene, a box of matches and a set of keys in his pocket.

A solemn Mancini and Coleman were covered in dirt and sweat, the grave they were still digging was now about three feet deep. Crowley nodded when Coleman met his eyes. The man nodded back, there were no words of encouragement appropriate for such a grim job.

The pyre went up with a whoosh and within a minute the flames were twenty feet high, black smoke billowing high into the gray sky. Crowley stared into the flames for a long time, his mind wandering back to the events of the last hour and trying to work out how he could have done differently.

It was only when Mancini called out that they were almost done digging that he came back to himself and headed to the Hyundai. He turned the key and watched the needle on the fuel gauge raptly as it headed up to just over three quarters and stopped there.

Excellent. Now if it will just start.

It didn’t. Not first try anyway. In fact, he had to try four times, pumping the gas madly before it finally started with some coughing and spluttering and a plume of black exhaust smoke.

He wasn’t game to switch it off, so left it running while he went over to Chase’s final resting place. The fallen soldier’s weapons were on the ground beside his grave along with his helmet. The other men had already placed him in the grave and covered him and were patting down the loose soil as he joined them.

Coleman proceeded to take the shovel he’d been using and slammed it into the dirt at the head of the grave before retrieving Chase’s helmet and hanging it over the handle. 

“I’ll say a few words,” said Crowley, as they joined him.

“You were a valuable part of our unit Chase, and helped save many lives, both those of the civilians and your fellow soldiers. You’ll be missed. Rest in peace buddy, you’ve earned it. Anyone else?”

Coleman was overcome with emotion and shook his head, but Mancini stepped forward and pulled out the small crucifix under his fatigues and kissed it.

“Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace.
Love always, in the name of Jesus.
Amen”

“Amen,” intoned Crowley and Coleman.

They stood for a minute in silence before Crowley bent over and picked up Chase’s rifle and pistol.

“Let’s go.”

*

By the time Crowley and what was left of his small team arrived in Macksville it was dark. Crowley pulled into the Main Street and parked nose to curb, the headlights briefly illuminating a laundromat before he switched them off.

“Have some of your rations boys, we’ll get some much needed shuteye and go exploring in the morning when we have some light.”

There were no arguments from the other two. Obviously, they were all tired, but the creature they had encountered earlier that day had also spooked them… no one was eager to go exploring a ghost town in the dark.

*

Weasel Toohey’s eyes snapped open before the tentative hand reached out and shook his shoulder.

“I’m awake Dougie,” he said quietly.

“Yes Sir, Mr. Jackson said it was time to wake you.”

“Good. Go ahead and wake the rest of them and have them assemble by the big door and I want total silence, understood?”

“Yes Sir.”

The ‘Big Door’ was the name they’d given to the fake wall they’d set up two thirds of the way down the southern wing. It was a big wire and metal job that swung on a hinge but had been lined on the outer side with unpainted plasterboard. Weasel had been quite impressed at the work his men had done. With the space around the edges barely two millimeters wide, once it was locked in place, it looked like nothing more than an unfinished wall waiting for patching in the corners and a paint job.

The Weasel quickly got dressed and headed for the control room.

“Time?” he snapped at Jackson when he arrived.

“0553 hours,” said Jackson curtly. The light from the screens cast his craggy features with a bluish tinge. “They are moving out now.”

The Weasel joined him, and they watched the small unit leave the Hub and head into the Ring- the name the men had given the hallway that encircled the hub where Crowley had settled his charges. The Ring gave access and egress from the hub via two gates, west and east, and fed into each of the four wings. Jackson flicked the camera to watch them move through each section. When they reached the exit, they watched them move into the outer yard where they waited until Stiles team had exited the gate, and the young soldier they’d left behind had chained it behind them and taken up his position just in front of the main entrance to the building.

“Okay, he is the first target,” said Weasel. “You take two men and deal with him. Make sure you drag the body back inside and don’t leave a mess. I’ll lead the others into the ring where I’ll move in with French, Kelly, and Clarke- the others will wait between the points of entry in case of a problem. My team will neutralize the guard and then we’ll subdue the civilians.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Okay, good. Synchronize watches. I have 0600 exactly, you?”

“Same.”

“Okay, meet us in the Hub at 0615 exactly, it should all be done and dusted by then.”

“Yes Sir, good luck.”  

*

At 6.02 Weasel’s ragtag band of survivors filed through the Big Door and headed for the entrance to the Ring. Upon entering, Jackson and his two-man team peeled off to the right while Weasel led the others 50 yards along the corridor before leaving the bulk of them and heading for the eastern entrance to the Hub with French, Kelly, and Clarke.

The three men were under orders to move in, fan out and cover the civilians while he took down the sole guard. They were under strict instructions not to fire unless he ordered it. Approaching the opening, light streamed into the dark corridor, and they could hear conversation and sporadic laughter.

Weasel pulled them to a halt, the hands gripping his automatic rifle trembling ever so slightly with excitement. He counted them down, one, two, three…

Chapter 6

After three hours on the Moped, Teddy’s ass was aching, and his face covered in grit. He arrived in a little town called Clarkstown and began to look for a place to dump the scooter. Traveling down the main drag he saw a sign advertising used cars for sale, and further along a familiar big yellow M.

“What I wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger or five right now,” he mumbled.

He kept a wary eye on his surrounds as he chugged up to ‘Big Jimmy’s Used Cars’. The town looked like it had sprouted up along the wide avenue, and there were no buildings hugging the road. The town looked completely abandoned.

He slowed and turned into the small parking lot before switching off the motor and climbing off the Moped, stretching before trying to rub some feeling back into his buns.

He was about to grab his pack and gun and head to the squat building to try and find keys to a new ride, when movement to his left caused him to swing around.

It was an unusually large coyote with a misshapen head and long needle like fangs growing at various angles from its twisted jaw. It apparently noticed him at the same time, and the big head turned his way.

“Oh shit!” said Teddy, running around to put the moped between him and the animal. He reached into his bag, scrabbling for his pistol as the animal began loping towards him. The rabid beast was coming fast, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to pull the weapon out in time.

Teddy, with his hand still inside the bag, lifted it and held it up like a shield as the beast leapt over the Moped.

BANG!

The side of the creature exploded, and it was smashed away at a 90-degree angle where if slammed into the asphalt and lay twitching.

Teddy swung to his right with his hands in the air and found a man with a big beer belly, wearing a Stetson and holding a smoking double barrelled shotgun, aimed if not exactly at him, in his general direction. The man’s intelligent eyes assessed him for a few seconds, taking in his uniform and the Moped. 

“Well, you nearly bought the farm there, Son. What the hell are you doing riding around Oklahoma on a girl’s scooter?”

*

Crowley woke up to the heat of the morning sun on his face. He sat up in the driver’s seat and stretched the kinks in his neck before he looked over his shoulder to see Coleman and Mancini still sleeping. He opened the door of the sedan and stepped out, easing the door closed without latching it.

He stretched his arms up into the air as he looked around. There was a small grocery store across the street, about a block along, with battered roller doors secured over the window and entrance. They looked like they hadn’t been breached which lit a spark of hope in his mind.

The hardware store across from it looked like it hadn’t fared so well, but hopefully they would find tools to get the roller shutters of the store open. He went back to the car and tapped on the rear windows.

“Up and at ‘em boys, let’s go shopping.”

*

Josephine was with Maria as she bottle-fed the baby when the first screams rang out. Her brain had barely begun processing what she was seeing, camouflage uniforms, but not the uniforms that Crowley’s team wore, when a burst of automatic gunfire mowed down private Metcalf. Screams and panic broke out as bodies scattered.

Josephine’s instincts kicked in and with her heart beating painfully in her chest, she dived over two cots and fell in between the one she slept in and Maria’s, reached into her pack and pulled out the pistol and clutched it in two hands as she took a deep breath and tried to get a handle on the situation.

“Don’t be alarmed folks,” called a voice cheerfully from the middle of the room. “We mean you no harm! I need everyone to drop to their knees and put your hands behind your heads. Come on, no hiding. Just do as you’re told and no one gets hurt, okay?”

From her position under the cot, she met the wide blue eyes of young Emily who had also dropped to the floor and crawled under the cot on the other side of Maria’s. Josephine put a finger to her lips and Emily nodded.

“I said,” continued the voice. “Come out from where you’re hiding, and no one gets hurt. That’s good ma’am. Well done. Oh, you have a baby. How adorable.”

Maria!

“Who are you!” snapped Maria, fearlessly. “How dare you…”

“Now ma’am, I understand you’re upset. I promise all your questions will be answered soon.”

Past Emily, Josephine saw a pair of boots moving towards where the young girl was cowering. She tensed when they stopped over the girl. A hand appeared and suddenly the girl screamed and was sliding away. Josephine jumped up from her hiding position and shot the armed man through the throat. He dropped his gun, and gargling, with hands clawing at his throat fell to the floor. 

Josephine’s swung her gun around to another armed man with a shocked look on his face only to find his automatic weapon trained on her.

“Hold fire!” roared the voice she had heard when she was on the floor. With trembling hands, and still aiming the gun at the man, she turned her head in the direction of the voice.

The thin man, clearly the leader of the intruders had Maria gripped in his arms, and the muzzle of his weapon against the neck of tiny baby Edward.

“You have exactly three seconds to bend slowly and put your weapon on the floor. One. Two…”

*

“Don’t look so worried son,” the big man in the Stetson said to Teddy. “I won’t shoot ya.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” said Teddy, and gestured to the scooter. “Long story, but this damn thing saved my life.”

“Okay. Well, why don’t you grab your shopping bag and come on inside before we get another zombie coyote wanting to take a chunk out of your ass. You can tell me all about it.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Teddy picked up a can that had rolled out of his bag and slipped it back in, pulling out his pistol and sliding it into his pocket as he followed the retreating figure of his savior.

“Big Jimmy, I assume?”

“You might assume,” said the man, hanging his shotgun on a rack by the door. “But you’d be wrong. I’m his brother Billy. Jim’s dead. Eaten by our own damn guard dogs. Come on in.”

Enticed by the blast of cool air, Teddy stepped inside wondering how he could have missed the sound of the air-conditioning unit when he’d switched off the Moped.

“You have power?”

“Yeah,” said the big man, going to a bar fridge and pulling out two cans of Bud. He didn’t bother asking if Teddy wanted one, just threw it to him.

Teddy ripped the ring pull off and downed half the can in one go before wiping his mouth with he back of his sleeve.

“You have no idea how much I needed that!”

Billy smiled.

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea. What’s your name son?”

“Teddy.”

“Well Teddy, glad to meet ya. Have a seat.” He gestured to a couch that had seen better days. “So, what brings you to Clarkstown on a girl’s scooter? I bet it ain’t the scenery.”

Teddy shrugged, slightly miffed that the stranger kept calling the Moped a girl’s scooter but willing to let it ride. He took another sip of Bud.

“Just passing through, but I thought I might upgrade my ride while I’m here.”

“Well, I can probably help you with that. So how did you end up here, and where you headed?”

Teddy told him the whole thing, from the fateful mission to the school, to being dragged off by a rabid bear, to finding the abandoned base.

Two cans of Bud later, Billy leaned back in his chair.

“That’s a tale and a half my friend. You’re a damned survivor that’s for sure. So, what now? You hunting for your squadron?”

Teddy let the misnomer slide.

“I am. I’m heading down to the Conroy Army Base, pretty sure that’s where they headed.”

“Where is it?”

“South. Near the border.”

“Tell you what son, I’m up for a change of scenery. If you take me with you, I have just the truck for you. You hungry?”

“Starving,” said Teddy. Despite his host’s jovial demeanor, he could see the pain behind the eyes.  It wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience to pay back Billy for the good deed of saving his life and the hospitality he’d shown. “And you’re welcome to come with me as far as Conroy.”

“Excellent!” said Billy, clapping his hands together. “I was down to my last two T-bones so there’s one for me and one for you.”

*

“Alright! I’m putting it down. Please don’t hurt anyone.”

Slowly, with the pistol in one hand and her other up in surrender, Josephine lowered herself and put the weapon on the floor before standing upright with both hands up. The soldier she’d shot continued to make horrible gargling noises, holding his hand over his throat in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood.

“Good,” said the rat-faced leader, pushing Maria and the baby towards the rear wall and walking slowly forward with his weapon pointed at Josephine. “Now. Get that kid out from under the cot and join the others by the wall.”

She kept a wary eye on him as she stepped around the cot and leaned over, holding her hand out to Emily. The girl shook her head.

“Come on, its okay Emily. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Finally, the girl acceded to the request and grasped the woman’s hand allowing herself to be helped out from her hiding spot and pulled to her feet.

“Very good,” said Ratface, now standing over his distressed colleague. He waved the muzzle of the gun towards the rear wall. Josephine didn’t take her eyes off him as she guided Emily over to the wall, deliberately avoiding the gaze of her abuelo.

“Now, just look at the mess you made,” said Ratface, before suddenly pointing his weapon down at the chest of his man at his feet.

“Nooo-!” squalled the prone man, trying to scramble away. Ratface put his booted foot down hard on his stomach to stop him.

“Sorry Lad.”

The burst of rounds into the young man’s chest silenced his struggles.

Some of the civilians around her including Emily screamed, others were too shocked. Josephine was just numb.

“That one’s on you,” Ratface said, walking slowly over until he was standing ten feet in front of them. The two remaining men covered them. “And now you owe me an eye for an eye. You get to choose and if you can’t I will.”

“Please, I’m sorry but-”

“But what?” he snapped. “No one had to die. You fired the first shot and now you have to be punished. “Now choose or… I will.”

His eyes fell on Emily and Josephine felt bile in her throat.

“I can’t… please, we’ll co-operate…”

“Too late for that now lady. Choose or I will. You have ten seconds.”

A tear began to trail down Josephine’s cheek.

“Me.”

“You!? Where’s the fun in that? No not you. You’re down to five seconds now. Five. Four. Three-”

“Oh, stop this you fucking coward!” snapped Josephine’s grandfather, stepping forward and turning to his granddaughter. “Choose me Honey.”

“No,” whispered Josephine shaking her head.

Ratface laughed.

“What do we have here? ‘Honey’? Is this your daddy? No wait, he’s way too old. Your grandaddy?”

“Screw you, pussy…” snapped Simon Cortez.

The Weasel rushed forward and viciously slammed the butt of his rifle into the old man’s temple, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“Abeulo!” screamed Josephine also taking a step forward. The closest militia man grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in, his muscular arm tightening around her.

“Abeulo? I knew it,” The Weasel said, switching his weapon to semi-automatic and putting the muzzle against Simon Cortez’s chest. “Well, I guess that is the decision made. Say your goodbyes old man.”

Josephine, sobbing, struggled to free herself but the grip of the man holding her was unrelenting. Her grandfather looked at her.

“Bide your time child. You’ll get an opportunity… for now, be at peace- I choose this-”

Weasel squeezed the trigger, the single shot ripping through the old man’s heart killing him instantly. A sigh escaped his lips before he slumped to the floor unmoving, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Josephine slumped in the intruder’s arms, and he let her slide to the floor as Maria, unheedful of the danger rushed over to cradle her.

“There, now we’re even,” said the Weasel. “I don’t want to shoot anymore of you, so from now on I want full co-operation and obedience. Kelly, call in the other men I want these prisoners locked safely in cells within twenty minutes. Clarke, you dispose of French’s body.”

*

“Okay, I think we’ve got all we can carry in that car,” said Crowley, inspecting the three carts.

While, it had certainly not been fully stocked, the battened down supermarket had proved to be a treasure trove of canned goods and items like cereals and powdered milk. At a rough guess, Crowley thought it might sustain their temporarily reduced numbers for two weeks before they’d need another shopping expedition. He’d also found a bottle of white wine to take back to Josephine and allowed the men to take a few bottles of Jack Daniels.

While he and Coleman had been filling up shopping carts, he’d sent Mancini to see if he could find a Jerry can and siphon fuel from any vehicles close by. He knew one of the handful of gas stations that were sure to be in the vicinity would contain as much gas as they’d ever need, but was pretty sure without a working pump, they’d be difficult to tap.

Mancini was waiting as they wheeled the laden carts towards the car, jogging over to help them wrangle the carts the last fifty yards. Crowley smelt the gas.

“Mission successful I take it?”

“Yes sir,” said Mancini. “Fully loaded. Plenty to get back to the prison and do a round trip when we need to.”

“You didn’t spot any other suitable vehicles in your travels?” the captain asked, knowing the small sedan would struggle with the extra weight.

“No sir. Looks like everyone high-tailed it out of here in whatever they could. I only saw two vehicles, both locked, but no bigger than this one.”

“Alright. It will have to do, one of you gents will be uncomfortable in the back seat though. Let’s get it loaded.”

Ten minutes later they had the Hyundai fully loaded. Coleman, having lost Scissors Paper Rock against Mancini for the front seat, was squeezed into the back seat against a wall of bagged goods.

Crowley got behind the drivers wheel and they set off, the exhaust pipe scraping over a speed hump in a shower of sparks as they headed out of Macksville and back to the prison, where right at that moment, the civilian survivors were being locked in cells.

Chapter 7

Teddy whistled.

Billy had just whipped of a dusty tarpaulin to reveal a shiny black 2017 Ram dual rear wheel Laramie Crew Cab. It had a large yellow J in a distinctive font on the door with the name JIMMY curling over the top of it.

“Yellowstone?”

Billy nodded.

“Jimmy was a massive fan. We’ve got a full tank and five 5-gallon jerrycans in back, so it should get us all the way if you’re not too heavy on the gas pedal.”

“You want me to drive?”

“Sure. It’s Jimmy’s truck, not mine. I think he’d get a kick out of a soldier driving it at the end of the world.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

Billy threw him the keys.

“Warm it up, I’m going to get some supplies for the road.”

A few minutes later, Billy emerged from the building carrying a large cooler in one hand and a trash bag in the other, which he deposited in the middle of the back seat.

“Supplies?”

“Yep, beer and chips. Its all I had left.”

The big man popped the lid on the cooler and handed Teddy a cold Budweiser.

“I don’t know if I should, it’s a long drive.”

“You’ll be fine son,” he said, punctuating his sentence by cracking his own can open. “It’s a straight road, and somehow, I don’t think you’re going to get pulled up by the highway patrol for a sobriety test, do you? Cheers.”

Teddy laughed, opened his can and clinked it against the other man’s before taking a long draft.

“Alright then. This is going to be an interesting road trip.”

*

Josephine had been put in a cell with Emily two hours before and had been a heap of misery since. The girl had tried to comfort her, but Josephine had pushed her away gently and rolled over to face the cinderblock wall.

Bored, the young girl climbed onto the top bunk and counted the cinder blocks on the other wall. Three hours after they were locked away, a man looked through the viewing window before opening their door and bringing in a bottle of water, a couple of breakfast bars and two cans of baked beans that had been opened. He placed them on the floor by the door.

“You should have something to eat and drink. And offer some to the lady.”

“She doesn’t want any of your shitty food and neither do I!” snapped the girl.

“Suit yourself, spoiled brat.”

A few minutes after he had departed, she heard a lightly accented voice call out. It was Maria.

“Jo? Are you there?”

Emily looked back, but Josephine appeared to be sleeping soundly, or at least pretending to be.  The young girl went to the door and stood up on tiptoes to put her mouth to the grate.

“She’s asleep. I think she has a broken heart.”

“I’m sure she does,” said Maria. “You be there for her like a good girl. She’ll come out of it okay, but it will take time.”

“Yes, ma’am. What’s going to happen to us?”

“We’ll be okay, I’m sure. Captain Crowley will be back soon and then these nasty men will get what they deserve.”

The words were confidently delivered, but young though she was, Emily picked up on the tinge of fear in the woman’s voice.

*

“This is Lookout. I have a vehicle approaching, sir. Two miles out.”

“About time,” said The Weasel. “Tell me when you have a positive I.D. Bates.”

A minute later Bates confirmed it was the captain driving.

“Good. Are teams 1 and 2 safely in position?”

“Yes sir. They are out of sight from the road and at the ready.”

“Excellent. Remember don’t take your shot until they’ve unlocked the gate and begun driving through.”

*

“What the Hell is that?” asked Teddy, squinting into the heat haze ahead. 

His companion was asleep. Teddy elbowed him and he startled awake.

“Jesus, what!”

“Up ahead, I think we have trouble.”

They did indeed.

Up ahead was a flatbed truck, with about five people standing on top of the cabin using sticks and brooms to push back at the creatures roiling over it like ants on a dead beetle. 

“There’s too many, Son,” said Billy, pre-empting Teddy.

In answer, Teddy put his foot down on the gas and the big V8 rumbled as he picked up speed.

“Oh Shit!” said Billy, frantically putting his seatbelt on.

The animals swarming over the truck were mixed and varied in breed, but they seemed to have a united purpose, to consume the people on the truck. As they drew closer, the speedo hit 60 mph and the people on the truck began to wave and scream for help.

Teddy only had eyes for the swarming dogs, of which there were at least thirty.

“Have your shotgun ready,” said Crowley’s former no.2, as he picked up his pistol.

With one hand on the steering wheel, he veered to the left, two wheels on the pavement and two in the dirt beside it and sped towards the right side of the truck facing them.

“Shhiiiitttt!” called billy, the rest of his curses drowned out by the collision with the first dogs. Bodies and pieces of dog exploded over the hood of the Ram, which Teddy fought to control as others went under its wheels, the rapid-fire thumping of bodies striking the fender reached a crescendo like thunder… and then they were through. Teddy immediately tapped the brakes and pulled the wheel hard to the right, then straightened up, aiming the Ram at the other side of the truck.

The people on the top of the truck were whooping and jumping up and down in celebration until one, a woman, was grabbed by the foot and pulled onto her backside, a man just catching her arm before she was pulled down into the mass of dogs on the truck’s flatbed. So began a frantic tug of war with the big animal trying to pull her off.  

“Christ!” grated Teddy as he raised his pistol and aimed it through the window as the Ram struck the dogs on that side. He took a shot at the animal, as he wrestled to keep the steering under control. The Ram scraped the side of the bigger truck in a shower of sparks. His shot went wild, but the nudge was enough to dislodge the animal. Once past the truck, he veered off into the dirt and spun the wheel 180 degrees as he slammed on the brakes.

The road on both sides of the truck were a killing field. Dead and dying dogs and body parts littered the surrounds. It appeared he had evened the odds considerably, however many dogs still loitered around the truck, waiting to take their turn at the humans still fending their packmates off on the cabin.

“Billy…”

“What?”

“I need you to get out and lure them away from the truck.”

“You want me to be a decoy, Son?”

Teddy looked at him.

“Yes.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I want you to attract their attention. Don’t worry, they won’t all come at you, and I plan to flatten those that do.”

“Did you just tell me not to worry?”

Teddy smiled grimly.

“I did. Take your shotgun if any get past me you can blast them.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning to play tiddlywinks with them.”

Teddy laughed.

“Okay, I can see you won’t be talked out of it. Let’s do it.” He pushed open his door and empty Bud cans clattered out onto the asphalt. Several dogs look their way, ears pricked as Billy climbed out with a groan and closed the door before planting his feet apart and aiming his shotgun at towards the truck.

“Come and get me you hungry assholes! Yeh haw! Come and get it!”

More dogs were looking but stood unmoving until one finally burst out of their ranks like a bullet and the others followed, unwilling to miss out on this meal in the offing.

Teddy revved the truck. The dogs were in a formation roughly like an arrowhead, as they sped towards Billy. He waited until they were barely 30 feet away before he planted his feet and headed straight for the leader of the pack.

Focused single-mindedly on Billy, the dogs didn’t even register the big black vehicle and it hit them head on, sending dogs, fur and chunks of flesh flying. When he was through them, he skidded to a halt and looked over his shoulder. The trail of carnage was like an arrow pointing at Billy and his shotgun boomed twice sending two more dogs to their deaths before the last one that escaped the carnage wrought by the Ram, hit him as he tried to bring the gun around.

Two fast moving shapes in his periphery caught Teddy’s attention and he hit the gas and swung the big truck to the left sending both flying.

Boom!

Teddy looked back at Billy to find him back on his feet, blood streaming from a wound on his head and his attacker lay twitching on the ground. Teddy, slammed on the gas again and headed for the truck, pulling to a stop and jumping out in a spray of gravel and dirt.

The rest of the animals were on the tray of the flatbed, and he began shooting them like fish in a barrel until one snarling beast, a malformed Rottweiler darted towards him. He put two rounds in its chest, but it kept coming and he backpedalled as it leapt off the tray, only to be stunned momentarily by the boom of Billy’s shotgun to his left. The dog’s head disappeared in a cloud of pink spray.

That was apparently all the surviving four animals could bear and they scattered, leaping off the other side and fleeing into the barren landscape. 

Teddy with his chest heaving from exertion and adrenaline put his gun on the tray of the truck and grasped it with two hands as he sucked in a few breaths.

A big hand fell on his shoulder.

“I believe that makes us about even,” said billy, wheezing as he got his own breath back.

“Whaddya mean?” said Teddy. “I ran down at least ten for you back there.”

“That don’t count Son, on account of you told me to go out there as bait!”

“Fair enough,” said Teddy, as the civilian’s they’d rescued began to climb down from the cabin.

*

As they followed the ribbon of new asphalt down into the valley, Crowley was tapping his hand on the wheel in time to the Elton John song playing on the CD player.  Not only would he get to see Josephine shortly, but they had enough of a food bank to ride out the next couple of weeks, plenty of time for the other team to return with help from Conroy.

They pulled to a stop in front of the gate and Crowley handed Mancini the key to the heavy padlock and the private jumped out. Coleman laughed when his friend seemed to struggle with the easy task.

“Come on Mancini! Its not a safe you’re cracking.”

Mancini flipped his middle finger at Coleman and shook his head. Suddenly the lock opened with a clack, and he pulled the chain free allowing the gates to open. He followed the car through and pulled the gates closed before locking them again.

From his cramped seat in the back, Coleman waited till Mancini was back in the car.

“What took you so long?”

Crowley put his foot down on the gas, the engine whined in protest a moment before moving forward.

Mancini turned and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, the windshield shattered and his head blew open, pelting Coleman with blood and flecks of bone and brain. The delayed sound of the gunshot came as Crowley swung the wheel hard, sending the vehicle off the driveway into a grassed ditch that ran alongside it. The Hyundai’s nose hit the sloping ground hard, and the airbags deployed pushing Crowley back into his seat as he struggled to undo his seatbelt to the tune of Too Low for Zero.

Chapter 8

Crowley managed to bash the driver’s door open, only to find the muzzles of three automatic weapons in his face. From the corner of his eye, he saw an unconscious Coleman being dragged from his door, cans of food and bottles of water spilling onto the grass behind him.

“Drop your weapon!” yelled a big red-haired man in camouflage, pushing the muzzle of his weapon into Crowley’s chest.

Crowley relaxed and let go of his rifle. The big man snatched it up and the other two dragged him the rest of the way out of the Hyundai and pulled him to his feet. The men covered Crowley while the big red-haired one, obviously in charge opened one of the bottles and poured it over Coleman’s head. He came too spluttering.

“What the fuck-”

“Quiet!” the red-haired man snapped. “You’re both prisoners now. I’m under orders to kill you if you cause any trouble, so behave.” Coleman was pushed into place next to his commanding officer. “Put your hands behind your back.”

Coleman looked at Crowley who nodded his head. For now, their captors, whoever they were held all the cards.

The big man handcuffed both men and they were turned and marched out of the ditch, then steered towards the prison entrance. Coleman looked back at Mancini’s slumped form.

“Goddam cocksuckers,” he muttered.

“Easy Son, bide your time,” Crowley said quietly.

“Shut your pieholes!” yelled the leader, pushing Crowley in the back.

“Okay, sorry.”

“You will be.”

They arrived at the entrance and were led through the door. There was no one in the prison reception, but when Crowley glanced in a doorway as they were led into a hall, what he saw turned his stomach. It was the bodies of the two soldiers he’d left behind, but worse, next to them, Josephine’s grandfather lay staring lifelessly at the ceiling, a ragged hole his in his chest.

A flame of rage ignited inside Crowley…

*

Teddy helped the civilians down from the truck. All up there were five, Steve a man in his early thirties, Melanie, his wife, their teenage son Zack and another older couple, Dan and Maureen. While they were dirty and hungry, all were uninjured except Melanie, who was limping on the foot that had been latched onto by the dog.

“It didn’t get through my hiking boot, but it twisted it bad,” she said, when he bent over to inspect it.

“Good, a twisted ankle we can deal with,” he said.

Steve stepped forward and held out his hand.

“You saved us,” he said, his voice cracking. “I want you to know how grateful we are, Sir.”

Teddy took his hand, not exactly comfortable with the emotion in the man’s voice.

“No sweat. Where are you coming from?”

“Dallas, Sir.”

Steve went on to explain the dogs had been following them for five miles when their fuel finally ran out.

“Why didn’t you stay in Dallas?”

Steve shook his head.

“It was a mess. With the New Depression and the riots already making it hard, the dogs turning was the last straw. And when they put the soldiers on the street, it was like lighting a powder keg. Its a full-blown civil war down there… when they burned down the State Capitol building, I knew it was time to get out. Where are you guys heading?”

“Conroy, the military base on the border…” his words trailed off when Steve shook his head. “What?”

“We passed it. It’s gone. Burned to the ground.”

Teddy looked to the sky and rubbed his hands through his hair before turning away and walking ten feet. He wanted to howl and scream at the sky but simply fell to the ground and crossed his legs, burying his head in his hands. If Conroy was gone, did that mean Crowley and the rest were…

A big hand fell on his shoulder.

“Sorry to hear that news Teddy,” said Billy, sitting down beside him. “Steve tells me they were heading to South Dakota. Apparently, they implemented martial law there and began culling dogs and other animals early on, so the dogs are not a threat. Word is that they will accept 200,000 refugees then shut the border tight. Do you think your platoon headed there when they saw Conroy?”

Teddy remembered they had talked about South Dakota and Crowley had picked it initially as a place to deposit the civilians. If he was alive, it was not out of the bounds of possibility he may have changed plans and decided to head there when they saw Conroy. A thought struck him.

Teddy sprung to his feet and ran over to the civilians.

“Did anyone pass you going south? Military, dressed like me, maybe in civilian vehicles though.”

“No sir, only person we passed was an old lady driving a really old Lincoln Continental, you know the ones that look like tanks. The front was a real mess.”

Billy joined them, puffing a little from the brisk walk.

“They didn’t pass them,’ said Teddy. “That means either they didn’t go that way, they took a detour or they turned around.”

Billy shrugged.

“So, what do you want to do then son?”

“I guess we turn around and head back, hopefully we see a sign.”

“And if we don’t?”

Teddy didn’t want to think about that scenario but backed into a corner he relented.

“If we don’t find them between here and my home base, we’ll head to South Dakota.”

“Okay Son, what are we waiting for.”

“Right,” said Teddy and walked over to the others. “Here’s the situation people. We can fit two or three in the back seat, but at least two of you are going to have to sit in back.”

Ten minutes later, after telling the civilians the rough plan, they were packed in the Ram and on the move heading north. Teddy’s hopes of finding Crowley’s team had taken a knock, but he wasn’t quite ready to give up the ghost yet.

*

“Ahh Captain Crowley,” the rat-face man said, saluting him.

They had been led to an area that Stiles’ reconnaissance team had inspected and declared clear. Crowley had looked at it too when they had arrived a few hours later. It had been transformed, the unfinished drywall had been revealed as a large, disguised gate ad there was a space behind it with a wide corridor and multiple rooms. It was obvious now that these men had been hiding in there.

He had taken careful notice of everything as he was escorted to the southern wing. There were no signs of Josephine or the civilians in the corridors they were led along. Coleman was held outside when he had been led into the office in which he now stood with the big red-haired man holding a gun to his side.

“Where are my people?”

“Your people? Not your people now. But regardless, they’re safe and sound enjoying the amenities as they were meant to be enjoyed. You will be joining them, but I thought you and I might have a chat first.”

“Crowley, James T. Captain. 77608946”

“Ahh, I see. Come Captain Crowley, we’re living in the end times. No need to fall back on useless rules, I’m not an enemy combatant.”

“Crowley, James T. Captain. 77608946”

Weasel’s eyes narrowed.

“I bet the delicious Josephine would appreciate you co-operating. It was a real tragedy what happened to her abuelo…”

Crowley lunged forward only to be hauled back into place and having the gun pressed harder into his ribs. Unfazed, the Weasel laughed.

“Touchy, touchy. We will need to talk Captain Crowley, whether you like it or not. Of course, I understand you need some time to process the new… situation. So, I’m willing to give you 24 hours. When I talk to you this time tomorrow you better be more amenable, I don’t want to punish your civilian charges for your lack of civility. Jackson, put them both in solitary confinement. Water only. Oh, and make sure you take them past the other cells.”

“You sure you don’t want to question him now?”

“Jackson, what have I told you? Do as you’re fucking told, or you’ll be in there with him.”

After he was led out into the corridor, sacks were placed over his and Coleman’s heads, but not before he noticed the face of his handler, red with anger at the way he’d been spoken to.

*

Two hours after Teddy and Billy rescued the civilians, they crested a hill and began travelling down into a wide-open stretch of land with pastures to the left and right. Ahead the four-lane highway stretched to the horizon. 

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, he saw the older couple in the back seat were sleeping, the woman with her head on her husband’s shoulder. It should have made him happy, but the sight filled him with sadness as he wondered how many more moments like that, they would get to share which inevitably led him to ask if he would ever get another of those moments with anyone.

Billy, riding shotgun, was quiet and staring out of the window as silent as he’d been since they’d met. Teddy’s eyes returned to the road ahead only to be caught by something a long way ahead. Headlights.

He reached over and tapped Billy’s thigh.

“You see what I see?”

“Yep. What do you think?”

“Don’t know, trying to get a count. I think I see two vehicles.”

“Yep, I think you’re right. What’s the plan?”

“Have your shotgun ready. When we get closer, I’ll pull over. Then we see what we see I guess.”

Teddy slowed the Ram and pulled over after another minute of driving. The gap was closing, and he could make out an old yellow dodge pickup in front, and something a little smaller, following close behind.

“Okay, everyone stay down! Billy, you get out with your gun, but stand behind your door in case they start shooting before we can get a word out.”

“Roger.”

Teddy got out, holding his pistol behind his back. He stood in full view next to his open door. It would be necessary cover in case things went south. 

Half a mile out the vehicles began to slow, and Teddy squinted trying to make out details of the occupants, but it was impossible from this distance. His heart began to beat faster as the distance closed.

“I think those are uniforms like yours,” said Billy just as his own brain registered them.

Teddy ran out into the road and started waving both hands in the air.

“Hey! US army here!”

Both vehicles screeched to a halt and men poured out of the doors, weapons trained on the man in the road and his vehicle.

The lead soldier, wearing aviator sunglasses paused taking in the bedraggled, blood-stained uniform of the man now holding his hands, one holding a pistol, up in the air.

“HOLY SHIT! Sarge! Is that you?”

Teddy lowered his hands and peered closely at the man in front who peeled away his sunglasses.

“Stiles!”

Teddy and Stiles both broke into runs and met each other in a concussive bear hug. Billy emerged from behind the passenger door after depositing the shotgun on his seat and walked over as the rest of the soldiers joined the huddle.

“Christ Sir, we thought you were bear food!”

“So did I. Jesus never been so good to see your sorry asses.” He looked back to their vehicles and said quietly, as dreading the answer. “Where is everybody else?”

“They’re fine… well we’ve lost a few along the way.”

“I Know, I found the farmhouse. I buried Radcliffe and the others.”

Stiles nodded solemnly.

“Anyway, the captain sent us on ahead to Conroy. They are holed up in a prison back-”

“A what!?”

Stiles explained briefly about the almost completed prison they’d stumbled across.

“Trust Crowley to stumble on the perfect hideout! Listen, Conroy is a bust. Totally kaput. The civilians we rescued are headed to South Dakota, about the only state still functioning. I say we turn around and head back to this prison so we can make a decision now that the main option has been taken off the table.”

He looked to the west where the sun was rapidly descending towards the horizon.

“Were you planning on making camp soon?”

“Yeah, we’ve been on the road since dawn- we didn’t find vehicles until around midday.”

“Right, you need rest then. These people have been through a lot, and I’ve been driving for hours, let’s place the trucks in a rough circle and we’ll set camp in the middle. Dogs are still a danger, so I want three sentries posted in four-hour shifts. We’ll head out at sunset and make a beeline for Shawshank.”

If Stiles was put out that Teddy was taking the leadership role again, it didn’t show.

“Yes Sir, but when we’re set up and have eaten, I need to know how the hell you got out of that pipeline in one piece.”

“Deal.”

*

“Jo,” whispered Emily, tugging on the sleeping woman’s sleeve. “Jo, someone’s coming.”

Josephine shrugged off the girl. But Emily wasn’t to be put off and shook her shoulder.

“Someone’s coming.”

She opened one eye and looked at Emily’s stubborn features. She could hear the footsteps and low conversation.

“Don’t worry, they are probably just doing rounds to make sure we’re all behaving.”

“I don’t think so. There are like four sets of footsteps.”

Josephine’s puffy eyes widened.

Smart kid.

“Fine I’ll look, you get in the bed.”

Josephine got to the hatch in the door just as the figures passed. She pressed her face against the mesh trying to give herself as much of a viewing angle as possible.

By the dim light, she did indeed see four figures. Two of Ratface’s men and two others, both with black bags over their heads. Looking closer she realized the two being escorted were in the familiar camouflaged US army fatigues.

“Ed?!”

One of them stopped and turned his bagged head in her direction.

“Jo yes, its - ooft!”

A blow to the stomach from one of the guards doubled him over and they dragged both men away double time.  With her heart thudding Josephine turned and put her back against the door anger slowly engulfing the awful hours long grief she’d been enduring.

Crowley was back, but he’d been ambushed. That meant no one was coming to help them. When she crawled back into the bunk next to Emily she rolled onto her back and began trying to find a way out of this mess.

PART THREE

Chapter 9

Crowley was pulled to a halt.

“Okay, put him in that cell,” said the voice Crowley recognized as being the tall redhaired man the leader had called Jackson. “I’ll put the captain in this one.”

Hands left him for a moment, and he heard a door thud heavily against a wall before he was propelled forward. The same hands steadied him again and went to work undoing the cuffs behind his back.

“Keep facing forward, if you turn before I tell you to, I will shoot you.” To emphasize the point a ring of steel was pushed into his back. The sack was pulled away and the voice came to him from the doorway of a small, windowless room of concrete walls, bathed in fluorescent light.

“You can turn.”

Jackson stood in the doorway his handgun pointed at the floor. Crowley rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had chafed them.

“You’re ex-military right, Jackson?”

If he was surprised, the other man didn’t let on.

“None of your goddamn business.”

It was a terse reply, but still, the man hadn’t shut the door yet.

“I knew right away. Just the way you hold yourself.”

“Doesn’t mean a thing if I was or if I wasn’t.”

“So, you’re down with this? Taking orders from a wannabe soldier and killing civilians, helpless old men?” Crowley saw doubt flutter across the man’s face. “Help me stop this before it gets any worse.”

The doubt was chased away by anger.

Too soon, Crowley you idiot, he berated himself silently.

“Shut the fuck up Soldier Boy and you might live to see another sunrise,” Jackson snapped and pulled the heavy door closed, ramming home the bolt. He heard voices retreating the way they had come and then there was a faint buzz and the sound of a secondary locking mechanism in the door shooting home. 

Crowley looked around his new digs. There was a barebones aluminum toilet, a cot with a single pillow and blanket and a washbasin. He went to the basin, miraculously there was running water. He took several swallows of the cold water and splashed his face.

On the whole, the situation was dire, but there were two positives. One, Josephine was still alive, and it looked like there had only been one civilian casualty. Two, he thought there was perhaps a chance, no matter how small, that he might be able to drive a wedge between Jackson and the leader. While the man hadn’t confirmed it, he was certain now that his guess about him being ex-military was on the money. The kicker? One didn’t just shed years of training and oath taking fealty to your country like a winter coat.

Crowley laid down on the cot and stared at the ceiling as he began to work at the problem and run scenarios through his head.

*

Josephine felt better when she awoke the next morning. Yes, the death of her grandfather was still raw, but she resolved to put that emotion to the back of her mind while she tried to find a way out of the situation they were all in.

She picked up the tray of food left the night before and placed it on the metal cabinet between the two cots, then forced herself to eat a pack of pringles and a breakfast bar washed down with water.

When Emily awoke, Josephine also fed her and then they both washed their faces at the small basin.

“Are you better now?” asked Emily, sitting down beside her.

Josephine smiled.

“Define better?” Emily looked puzzled, and Josephine ruffled her hair. “Yes, I’m better. Still sad, but I’m trying not to think about what happened for now.”

“That’s a good idea. Have you got a plan to get us out of this mess?”

Josephine laughed out loud, surprised by the girl again.

“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

*

“How long do you estimate it will take to get there?” Teddy asked Stiles.

The rising sun was a sliver on the horizon. They had walked out of the area they’d slept to relieve themselves.

“Riding in vehicles all the way, I think about four and a half hours sir.”

“Okay,” said Teddy, zipping up.

“Let’s rouse these people and get them fed. You have any supplies?”

“Yeah, now that we’re heading back, I have enough MRE’s for everybody for breakfast at least.”

“Good, that should be all we need. An MRE will be like a goddamn three course meal after what I’ve been eating.”

A half hour later they were loaded and ready to go.

“Are you going to be riding with us sir?”

“No, I’ll stick with Billy and the civilians. You take the lead, hopefully we have a clear run, we’ll deal with any trouble if it arises, but for now, Our mission is to arrive safely back at Shawshank.”

“Yes sir. Good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Teddy said, patting Stiles heavily on the shoulder.

*

“Did the captain have anything to say when you locked him up?”

The Weasel and Jackson were seated away from the rest of their crew as they ate a light breakfast.

“No sir, I didn’t engage, and he didn’t seem in the mood for chit chat.”

Jackson met the Weasel’s probing gaze evenly. He didn’t feel like he was withholding anything valuable, Crowley had probed, and he had shut him down. No need for the man in front of him to know that, it would only agitate him and rouse his suspicion.

What he didn’t admit, even to himself, was the tiny seed of doubt about what they were doing and the manner in which they were doing it. It had been planted long before the captain showed up. In fact, long before they’d arrived at the prison and had begun with the shooting of the police officers at Conroy.

The words of the captain had watered that seed of doubt, and it had caused him a restless nigh. At some point, Jackson had the feeling things would come to a head between him and the Weasel, the question was, would it be on his terms or the other man’s?

Finally, the Weasel nodded and went back to shoveling down his beans.

“What’s the plan?” Jackson asked.

“We let him stew for another twenty-four hours, water only and then we’ll invite him to breakfast. He may be a little more inclined to speak. In the meantime, after breakfast I want you to separate the women between eighteen and forty years old from the others. Put them in the western wing, one per cell.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Why do you think Jackson?” Realization dawned on Jackson’s face. “Ahh, you got it now? I think we’ve all earned some… leisure time, don’t you?”

While Jackson knew it had always been their aim to ‘recruit’ women into the fold, he had envisaged voluntary assimilation, rescuing them, giving them safety and shelter and the opportunity to pair up with the men if they chose.

The idea of separating them into cells for Weasel’s ‘leisure time’ and what that obviously entailed, was horrific.

“Do you have a problem with that idea, Jackson?”

“Well… its just that I thought we were trying to help people survive. All we’ve done since this started is kill, and now you want to-”

“Oh, we are helping,” the Weasel interrupted as he stood up. “In a year when they are all raising babies in the safety of our sanctuary here, they’ll know it. Come and see me once you have them moved, and we’ll discuss logistics…”

Jackson watched him go, a sinking feeling in his guts. Somehow it felt like the timeline to a showdown had just been shortened. 

*

Josephine woke up early and stared at the darkened ceiling. Crowley and at least one of his men was back, but locked up somewhere, no doubt with all precautions taken to ensure they weren’t any trouble.

That meant, help from him was out of the question. Stiles team had only left for Conroy the previous morning and depending on how much trouble they had getting there and what they found, it could be days before they returned with or without extra firepower.

That left only one option. They would need to help themselves. For the next two hours she began to plan to do just that.

Chapter 10

When the sun lit up the small wire reinforced window in her cell, Josephine went to the basin and washed her face, before pulling her hair out of the tight ponytail. She let her soft hair tumble to her shoulders and ruffled it with her fingers.

She made sure Emily was still fast asleep on her cot and undid the top two buttons of her blouse before pulling the shirt tight behind her back and tucking it into her jeans. The effect emphasized her breasts.

Josephine had just finished that operation when she heard a door open with a clatter in the distance.

“Eats!” a man’s voice yelled.

She padded to the door and pinched color into her cheeks as she waited, listening intently.

From the sounds of soft conversation, it sounded like there were at least two men opening the doors of each of the cells and offering food to her fellow prisoners.

After about three minutes, footsteps approached her door.

A young man’s face appeared at the grate in her door.

“Morning,” she said cheerfully.

“Can you step to the back of the cell ma’am. I have some breakfast for you.”

“Oh good, I’m starving!”

He unlocked the door and pushed it open with his foot, watching her admiringly as she walked to the back of the room, before coming in with a tray on which sat two plastic bowls with metal spoons, a box of cereal and a small jug of what she assumed was milk.

The guard looked to be in his early twenties with pockmarked cheeks and a prematurely receding hairline. He was slender to the point of being skinny.

He nodded to the beans as he placed the tray on a small metal table in the center of the room that was bolted to the floor.

“If you’re so hungry, why didn’t you eat the beans?”

“Beans don’t do it for me!” She laughed and approached the table.

“Not too close please ma’am,” he said holding up a hand.

She ignored him, took another step and put a familiar hand on his upper arm.

“Oh,” she giggled and squeezed his arm. “I don’t think a big strong guy like you needs to worry about me.”

His face turned a light shade of red, but he didn’t pull away.

“Not that strong,” he shrugged.

She squeezed again.

“Strong enough,” she said in a husky voice, before releasing him and looking at the cereal. “Raisin bran! My favorite, you sure know how to spoil a girl…?”

“Brad.”

“Well thank you Brad, will you be coming back later?” Her hand reached out and took his gently, squeezing.

“Uh… um not sure. They are moving you to another wing. Well not just you…”

“Rodgers!” yelled a voice from the corridor.

“Coming!” he went to pull away, but Josephine didn’t let go of his hand and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“Well, I you feel like some company after the move, I guess you’ll know where to find me…”

Now blushing furiously, her captor stammered a maybe and hightailed it through the door, before pulling it shut and locking it.

Josephine’s smile faded instantly. The first stage of her plan had gone well, the only fly in the ointment, the little piece of information he’d let slip about moving them.

Where are they moving us and why?

It didn’t matter right then, she only hoped she had baited a sweet enough honey trap for young Brad Rodgers to pay her a visit regardless of whether she’d be in this cell or another.

*

Within an hour, the door to the cell block opened again. This time there were more of the intruders and Josephine heard cries and yelling from the civilians as they were taken out of the cells. From those distressed conversations she deduced that not everyone was being taken.

She had already briefed Emily that they would be moving cells when she had awoken, but now took her hand and looked into her frightened blue eyes.

“I’m not sure what’s happening, but they might be splitting us up. I want you to be brave and follow their orders, okay?”

“I don’t want us to be split up!” Emily whispered desperately.

“I don’t either Honey, but I promise it won’t be for long, okay?”

Emily nodded, wiping a silent tear from her eye.

“Get to the back of the cell and put your hands on top of your head!” yelled a man through the grate.

This was the older one with red hair that she had not spoken too yet. They went to the back of the cell, and she nodded encouragingly at the girl.

When he had deemed it safe the man opened the door and two other soldiers, although she was loathe to think of them as that, came in. One of them was Brad Rodgers. He avoided her eyes as he and his buddy led her out of the cell.

“Remember what I said Honey,” she said over her shoulder to Emily.

She kept her face neutral as she paused in front of the red-haired guy. To her left was a line of five women, including Maria.

“Where are you taking us?”

“None of your business lady. Just take your place at the head of the line.”

“Please, don’t leave Emily all alone in there. She’s just a kid.”

He nodded.

“She’ll only be alone for an hour or so before we put them together.”

“Okay, thank you.”

He nodded gruffly and gave her a light shove towards the line.

There was crying and distress from the people left behind and also some of the women in the line as they were marched out of the cell block and into the hallway that curved around the hub. The fact that they were only young women was not lost on Josephine and unease began to nibble at the edges of her mind.

They were led into a cell block that looked identical to the one they had been taken from. One by one they were deposited into the cells lining it on the left and right.

Looking over her shoulder she saw Faith, the teenager who had been so close to joining Sebastian Tipton on his doomed mission, being led into her cell. She looked hopeless and resigned to her fate.

Josephine felt the rage she’d been suppressing heat her belly again and vowed silently that whatever these assholes had planed, she would stop it and make them pay.

Finally, all the women had been deposited safely in their cells and the leader, who she’d heard one of the other men call Jackson, gestured to the last open door on the right.

“In there.”

Josephine meekly walked into the cell as young Brad Rodgers followed and began to pull the door closed. Out of sight of his boss, she looked into his eyes and mouthed very clearly, Come visit me… biting her bottom lip for emphasis.

He slammed the door, lest Jackson see the woman’s silent communication. He knew from talk amongst the other men that she had been claimed by the Weasel and he couldn’t afford for Jackson or anyone else, to find out she was flirting with him.

His heart was beating fast as they walked away, the promise in her eyes made him giddy and he knew then he had to find a way back to the cell before the Weasel claimed her tonight.

Josephine, leaned with her back against the door. She felt sick but also hopeful that she’d given the kid just enough allure to entice him back to her cell and that it would be before whatever the head assholes had in store for she and her fellow prisoners.

*

After they had deposited the women in the western wing, Jackson dismissed Rodgers and the other man and reported to Toohey who was with Dougie in the Hub. The Weasel looked to be in a good mood as he clapped the teenager on the shoulder.

“Good work Dougie. Now I want that drone of yours in the air after lunch. I’m not expecting Crowley’s second team to be back any time soon, but I don’t want to take any chances. Report to me if you spot anything out of the ordinary.”

“Yes sir!” said Dougie, as he left the room.

“Any trouble from the ladies?” The Weasel asked Jackson as he went to the coffee pot and poured himself a mug without asking if his 2IC wanted one.

“No trouble apart from some tears. The men are putting the others into shared cells now.”

“Okay, good. I’m going to take Kelly and Clarke outside to burn French and the bodies of the other dead before they start to stink the place out. You’ll be in charge for a few hours, and it’ll give me a chance to get some sun on my face. “

Jackson kept the surprise from his face. Toohey had shown no inclination to leave the confines of the building since they’d arrived.

“Yes sir, no problem.” 

“Excellent, it’ll do me good. I want to be feeling as energetic as possible for my visit with the lovely Josephine tonight.”

“Anything I should do while you’re gone?”

“Hmm,” he said thinking for a moment, then clicked his fingers. “Yes! There is. Work out a roster for you and the men and your… fun tonight. Nineteen into five doesn’t exactly work out and it could get ugly if we don’t stick to a schedule. Understand?”

“Can I speak candidly?”

Ron Toohey’s eyes narrowed.

“Why of course you can, Jackson.”

The red-haired man nodded.

“Are you sure you want to… handle these people like that? I thought the whole idea was to assimilate them. Forcing them into sex isn’t going to do that. That’s not assimilation and a good foundation for the future.” Jackson’s voice was trembling with anger as he uttered the last sentence. “That’s just rape.”

The Weasel’s eyes widened imperceptibly as he steepled his fingers and regarded Jackson. Seconds went by but Jackson refused to let his gaze drop. Finally, the Weasel laughed and shook his head.

“Jackson, Jackson, Jackson. I can see you have yourself all worked up over this, but your problem is you think too much. Sure, they’re not going to like it at first, but I’m sure in the fullness of time they’ll come to be grateful for the protection we provide. They’ll understand that there is a price to be paid for all the extra mouths we’ll be feeding, those kids and old people that, let’s face it, really, we should be just pushing out the door. Well, except for the girls they’ll obviously be of use in a few years...”

Jackson tensed and the fingers of the hand by his revolver twitched. The only thing preventing him using it was the gun resting just an inch from the hand that Toohey had resting on the desk. A realization hit him. The bastard was waiting for him to make a move. Wanted him to make a move. He forced himself to relax and nodded.

“Do you understand Jackson?”

“Understood,” he replied flatly.

He did understand, and what he understood was that he would need to eliminate the Weasel before he did anymore harm. The man was insane or evil. He’d known since he’d joined their crew that he was unstable, but now, almost hour by hour he was becoming more unhinged.

“Good,” said the Weasel, satisfied he had cowed his second in charge for now. “Get that roster done. Dismissed.”

As Jackson closed the door behind him, his mind was already working on possibilities. It would be hard to take Toohey out single handedly, the man was always wary, and hardly ever slept and always had his pistol. He couldn’t turn to the other men in the militia, they were either too loyal or too scared of the Weasel to risk turning on him. No, there was only one option, and it had been presented to him that morning.

It was time to talk to the captain.

*

Jackson watched the security cameras until the two men under Weasel’s direction had dragged the bodies out into the yard. When they started building the pyre, he immediately went down to the east wing where the solitary confinement cells were located.

A kid called Henry was on duty at the main gate and let him in without question when he told him that Toohey had sent him to interrogate the prisoner.

“Don’t let anyone else in until I’m done. And Toohey wants this conversation kept private,” Jackson told the kid as he shut the gate.

“Yes Sir.”

Jackson’s heart rate was elevated as he came to the door of the captain’s cell. He took a deep breath and opened the small viewing hatch. The captain was lying on his cot with his hands behind his head and staring at the celling. He undoubtedly heard Jackson but didn’t look away from the ceiling.

“I’m coming in. If you even look at me the wrong way I will shoot you, understand?”

He received a lazy thumbs up in response.

He undid the mechanical lock and pulled the heavy door open as the captain sat up slowly and put his feet onto the floor. This man Crowley looked a capable customer, so he stayed by the door with his hand resting on his pistol as the prisoner looked at him expectantly.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he said reaching into his pocket with his left hand and pulling out a protein bar. He tossed it and Crowley snatched it out of the air with his left hand.

“I am a little peckish, thanks.”

Crowley ripped the end off the packaging and took a big bite.

Jackson waited and watched him consume the offering. If the captain was curious as to why he was standing there, he didn’t show it.

Crowley was licking the remains of the chocolate from his fingers when Jackson cleared his throat.

“I wanted to run something by you…”

Well, well, well, Crowley thought.

“Okay,” he said evenly.

Jackson took a deep breath.

“You were right,” he said. “We’ve been doing some things I don’t agree with. I should have done something before this, but Weasel is a… difficult customer and has done a good job bullying and persuading the men his way is the right way. It wasn’t hard after everything turned to shit.”

Crowley nodded.

“Weasel seems an appropriate nickname,” he said. “What do you want to do about it?”

“Well, as I said, he has the support of all of the men, and I joined them after the shit hit the fan. The core group, around ten of them were members of a local militia, more a military gang with guns than anything official, but after I lost-” Jackson’s voice cracked. “-my wife, I had nothing else, and they seemed well organized and decent at first.”

“How did you get to be second in charge?”

“Well, he knew I was retired military, and we lost his lieutenant to a dog attack the day after I joined, and I happened to save his ass. I guess he was grateful or whatever. Wish I’d let him die.”

“And let me guess, the men resented the outsider being promoted?”

Jackson nodded.

“Why the urgency now? When I approached you yesterday you shut me down.”

The former soldier told Crowley of the plans for that night involving the women.

By the time he finished, Crowley’s mouth was a grim line.

“I see. We need to end this. Have you got anything in mind?”

“No, I wanted to talk to you first.”

“We’ll need Coleman. And can you get us weapons?”

“Yes. Look, I know its short notice, but the Weasel’s outside with two of his men right now disposing of the bodies. We might not get a better opportunity than right now.”

Crowley, always wary of going off half cocked, saw that time was of the essence and the opportunity was too much to pass over.

“Alright. Let’s do it now then.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” said Jackson, reaching behind his back and presenting Crowley with a Desert Eagle. “Full magazine.”

“Excellent,” he said, taking the weapon and checking the magazine anyway. “Not that I don’t trust you, but I always check my weapon myself.”

“Me too, Sir.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. The other man shrugged.

“I was but a lowly sergeant. For this mission, you outrank me… Sir.”

“Fair enough,” said Crowley, walking past him to the door. “Let’s get Coleman.”

Chapter 11

Brad Rodgers went off duty at 11am. He was tired but laying on his cot he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the woman named Josephine. The promise in her whisper was implicit. He knew they were lined up for time with the other women that night, but he only had eyes for one, none of the others interested him like she did.

“You hear the Weasel is outside burning bodies?” said Simpson, who had come off duty with him as he walked in from a cold shower.

“Huh?”

Simpson explained about the disposal of the bodies.

“Right,” he said, his brain working furiously. “Probably for the best before they start to stink.”

Simpson laid down on his cot and draped a sock over his eyes.

“I might go for a walk, can’t sleep,” said Rodgers.

His hands were trembling as he clipped his gun on his hip and dabbed a roll-on deodorant under his shirt before smoothing down his hair and leaving the cell they’d been using as a living quarters. Nervous and excited, he headed for the western wing, or the harem as a few of the boys had already named it.

*

“Is that smoke?” Teddy asked Billy, literally three seconds before the brake lights of the vehicles in front of him lit up and they pulled up in the middle of the road.

“Yup,” said Billy, to no one. Teddy had already exited the vehicle.

The thin plume of black smoke looked about three miles away, but its source was hidden buy the low hills on the horizon.

Stiles jogged over to Teddy.

“Sarge, I think that’s coming from the prison!”

“Shit! What now?”

“It might be wise for us to scope things out from the same spot we used to surveil when we found it.”

“Good thinking. How far is it?”

“About three miles, if we follow the back roads to keep us beyond the hills and out of sight.”

As much as Teddy didn’t want to believe they needed such a precaution, too many things had gone wrong since the day they begun the initial rescue mission for him to take anything for granted.

“Let’s do it.”

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up next to the abandoned Humvee, in the same position they’d parked it three days before.

“Follow me Sir.”

Teddy followed Stiles to the top of the hill, then crawled through the bushes until they were looking out over the flat valley. The smoke wended its way into the blue sky from a fire on the lawn about fifty yards in front of the main entrance. Stiles handed Teddy the field glasses.

“I see two men in front of the fire,” he said flatly. “They’re in uniform, but they’re not ours.” He handed Stiles the binocs. “Confirm?”

Stiles put them to his eyes and exhaled sharply.

“Confirmed. Fuck, who the hell are they?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Teddy, a sinking feeling in his gut. “Fact is, we have to assume they are hostiles and go in accordingly. Here’s my plan…”

*

Coleman was stunned when the door of his cell was opened to reveal the captain. Crowley briefed him quickly and told him to save his questions for later, time was of the essence. Jackson led the way back to the door and the soldiers, stood to the right of him out of sight of the viewing hatch.

He nodded to them and knocked on the door. The guard pulled it open after a cursory glance. Jackson grabbing him and pushing the pistol hard into his cheekbone took him by complete surprise, and he didn’t let out a squeak as he was dragged bodily back into the corridor and deposited in the cell that Crowley had been secured in.   

Jackson handed Coleman the freshly imprisoned guard’s M16. The soldier looked at it with distaste. Crowley shrugged as if to say beggars can’t be choosers.

They followed Jackson through the outer door, and he locked it before taking the lead again, heading into the Ring. They had decided the best course of action was to attack the Weasel’s men head on, that meant bursting into the hub and taking them by surprise, capture if possible, kill if not. Once they had control, they would head out to try and take the Weasel.

Jackson felt the urgency now and rushed through the narrow corridor towards the western entry to the Hub. The small metal object clattering along the floor oozing acrid smoke took him by complete surprise and he skidded to a stop.

“Tear gas!” whispered Crowley harshly. “Back up, we’re made. Before he could turn, automatic weapons fire erupted behind them and Coleman jerked like a maniacal puppeteer had taken control of his body and collapsed to the floor. Crowley found two weapons trained on him.

“Drop your weapons!” one of them boomed. He looked over his shoulder and through watering eyes saw three more armed figures wearing gas masks materialize from the thick smoke ahead of Jackson who was doubled over coughing. 

Two minutes later, Jackson and Crowley were on their knees with their hands cuffed behind their back on the floor of the Hub. The weapons of four men were trained on them as the Weasel, unexpectedly back inside, paced in front of them as the rest of his men looked on, all except Bates who was on lookout in the tower and the men outside finishing the cremation of the bodies, and Dougie.

“I must say, I’m very disappointed Jackson. My men and I brought you into the fold and this is how you repay me?”

“How did you know?”

“You think I only had Dougie set up ears in here? That always was your problem Jackson, you can’t think outside the box.”

Jackson spat on the floor.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” he said, before looking at the men around him. “He’s a lunatic, and you men need to get rid of him before-”

The Weasel nodded to one of his men, and the butt of a rifle sent him sprawling to the linoleum floor.

“And you Captain. Why shouldn’t I just execute you right now?”

“If I were you, I would, because I’m coming for you…”

“Ooh I’m scared. You are very lucky I may have some use for you at a later date. Too bad you got your buddy killed.”

Crowley bared his teeth.

“You’ll pay for that death,” he grated.

“Talk is cheap Captain - I find actions much more effective,” he said circling the two men, surreptitiously taking a baseball bat from one of them.

The dazed Jackson had struggled back to his knees by the time the Weasel was in front of them again but was swaying unsteadily. Toohey stopped and smiled.

“Batter up!” he yelled, flamboyantly bending his knees and taking batter’s stance before swinging the bat with all his might into the side of Jackson’s head.

The sound was horrendous. Teeth, spit and blood flew, and Jackson fell into Crowley, bouncing off him before hitting the floor. The Weasel wasn’t finished yet. He raised the bat over his head and brought it down again and again and again.

Crowley couldn’t take it anymore, and lifted his right leg, planting a foot on the floor and drove himself forward, his shoulder smashing into the Weasels midriff. They both fell to the floor, Crowley ineffectually attempting to headbutt his enemy before he was pulled off and shoved back onto the floor.

The Weasel was on his back holding his stomach. He was shaking and Crowley wondered if he’d somehow managed to inflict some sort of injury before he realized the bastard was laughing. It began soundlessly, and slowly escalated into an uproarious belly laugh.

“Oh boy,” he said, when his mirth had finally subsided. “Haven’t had a laugh like that in a long time.” He held a hand up in the air and one of his men helped him up.

“Alright, take Captain Crowley back to his cell please. And clean this mess up…”

He was interrupted when Dougie burst into the room, skidded to a halt and doubled over taking deep gulps of air as he tried to get his breath back.

“Dougie what is it?”

“Bates… he… he…”

The sound of distant gunfire interrupted and told the story for him. It was coming from the front of the prison.

“Quickly!” snapped The Weasel. “Arm yourselves and get to the foyer. You! Simpson, get Crowley back to his cell on the double! If he so much as squeaks, shoot him then get your ass to the foyer. Dougie, you stick with me.”

*

Rodgers got past the guard at the gate, Branagh a 19-year-old kid from Houston who he thought might be a little slow, by telling him he had a message from the Weasel for Josephine.

As nervous as a cat trying to shit razorblades, he got to her door and took a few seconds to work up the courage before opening the viewing window. He raised a hand when she looked his way and was rewarded with a beaming smile as she stood up and patted down her hair as if it looked less than the perfection it was.

His fingers trembled even more now as he opened the door and stepped in, pushing it closed without locking it. He’d never been with a girl, let alone one that looked like her and words suddenly failed him as she approached and stopped in front of him looking shy herself.

“You came, Brad,” she said biting her lip. “I was sure you’d forgotten about me.”

“N-n-never…”

“Oh my, you’re so nervous. Come here.”

She opened her arms and stepped in closer. Like a planet falling into a blackhole, he was helpless to resist. A normally sharp kid, except when it came to matters of the heart and the opposite sex, if he hadn’t been so nervous, he might have noticed the glint of metal in her hand.

As it was, it wasn’t until he was enveloped in her heavenly embrace that he felt the sharp point against his throat. He froze and felt her grip tighten. 

“What-”

“I don’t want to hurt you Brad, but if you try to stop me, I will pierce your carotid artery and you will bleed to death in about two minutes. Do you understand?”

He nodded, only to wince as the sharp metal point nicked his skin.

“Careful now. Just relax and I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Her left arm relaxed and disappeared, miraculously he felt a flutter of excitement as it fluttered over his buttock and hip until it located his Glock pistol. She quickly relieved him of it and stepped away holding up her other hand and wiggling the spoon whose handle she had spent hours sharpening on the cinderblock wall behind the cot.

“Just a tip Brad, never leave a prisoner with a metal implement, and always search them when you move cells.” She waved the pistol towards the cot.

Defeated, the kid gave her a wide berth and sat down on the cot, putting his head in his hands. Her heart went out to him.

“I’m sorry I had to trick you Brad, but we didn’t ask for any of this…” She paused at the door. “I’ll have someone come and let you out when its over.” 

“I’m a fucking dead man,” Brad moaned, punching his thigh repeatedly, only stopping when a loud gunshot sounded from the outer door. He had a suspicion that Branagh had just ‘bought the farm’.

Chapter 12

Dougie had been outside, kneeling on the grass and readying his drone for flight when bates crashed to the earth beside him with a thud. The horror had barely registered when the delayed crack of the high-powered rifle echoed in the distance.

He heard panicked shouts and swearing from Kelly and Clarke as they frantically scrambled for their weapons and ran for cover. Dougie did the same, running for the main entrance from which he’d emerged barely ten minutes before.

He hadn’t quite made it to the threshold when the faint growl of a powerful engine from the direction of the gate and the road beyond grew louder until it reached a crescendo. A car fanatic, Dougie was helpless to stop himself looking back and was just in time to see the big black Ram burst through the gate sending them flying. It skidded on the tarmac as the driver spun the wheel and turned towards the Weasel’s two men who had begun firing at it.

Its windshield was peppered with holes but the big truck kept its line and eventually both men dived out of the way. Unfortunately, Clarke was a fraction to slow, and the front corner of the speeding Ram caught his ankle, the force spinning him horizontally in the air for two rotations before the side of his head smashed into a tree trunk killing him instantly.

Dougie saw another vehicle speeding towards the smashed fence and with a yelp of terror he ran inside, not even thinking to put down the big, armored shutters as the doors of the Ram burst open and the men pouring out began exchanging fire with John Kelly.

*

Josephine was surprised when the guard opened the outer door to their cell block without checking the viewing window. Why would he check? Just a bunch of women behind locked doors, clearly though, they were more efficient as killers than prison guards. Taking no chances, she took her shot as soon as she had a visual, the round took him between the eyes.

It was loud in the confines of the four walls and her ears were ringing as she headed to the end of the corridor, pausing at the T junction with the Ring. She checked there was no one in either direction then went right. The Ring would take her around in a circle to the eastern wing whatever way she went, but she knew this was shorter from her wanderings before the Rat Face and his men showed up.

She’d only traveled fifty yards when she heard the sounds of faint gunfire outside, followed by shouts and yelling in the distance. Something was happening. She picked up her pace.

*

“You know that gunfire outside is the army right?” Crowley asked the man behind him.

The man’s answer was to push him in the back.

“Seriously Simpson. If you surrender now, I can help you, once they breach the prison anyone wearing that uniform you’re in will be shot…”

As if to emphasize his point, there was more distant gunfire and a muffled explosion.

“Shut up,” the man said this time and jabbed him with the barrel of the gun. They had almost reached the door leading into the eastern wing when a figure rushed around the bend in front of them.

*

The Weasel led his men through the ring a smile on his face. Things had come to a head a lot quicker than he thought, but the intel he’d coaxed from the terrified Dougie was enough to tell him that the odds were about even.

The arrived at the gate that led to the northern administrative wing and Toohey pulled his men to a halt. The gunfire outside the prison had ceased.  That meant Kelly and Clarke were toast and that the enemy were most likely entering through the main entrance.

He sent six men on ahead, while he and the unarmed Dougie stayed with the rest of the men. The six didn’t know it, but they were a sacrifice. Once that group had engaged the enemy, Toohey planned to come over the top of them.

“Dougie, I want you to stay back here,” he said quietly, handing his tech geek a pistol. “If you see anyone that’s not us coming back, shoot them.”

The kid took the gun with trembling hands and nodded.

The Weasel gave him a thumbs up and then counted out 60 seconds before getting up and waving his men to follow.

*

Teddy and his men had split into two groups of four and were now standing either side of the entrance ready to breach. The civilians including Billy were safely back on the hill under strict instructions to head north to South Dakota if they weren’t collected within two hours.

“I’ll lead my team in, you follow ten seconds,” he said to Stiles.

Three seconds later he led the way in, sweeping the M16 rifle he’d picked up from the dead enemy combatant, in a wide arc. His men fanned out behind him. They moved through a narrow hallway past glass walled unfurnished rooms towards open double leading into the processing area that Stiles had briefed him about.

Teddy saw a movement in the shadows beyond the doorway and ducked as a burst of fire whizzed over his head, shattering a glass wall behind him. He and his men opened fire.

*

Josephine skidded to a halt in front of Crowley, her mouth a perfect ‘O’ of surprise and matching those of the two men. Crowley recovered first immediately collapsed to the floor leaving the man guarding him fully exposed. Josephine shot him in the face.

Crowley looked up at her with a wry smile.

“What kept you so long?”

She helped him up and they kissed briefly before she picked up the dead man’s pistol and tucked it into her jeans.

“Something’s happening outside,” she said, as they turned back towards the hub.

“Yeah, I think Stiles and his team are back with the cavalry, but we shouldn’t take any chances. I need to get these cuffs off.”

Once back in the hub, they spent a few minutes looking for a key to the cuffs but came up empty, Crowley calling it when they heard gunfire resume, this time a lot closer.

“They’ve breached the prison, come on!”

Josephine chased him out of the door then grabbed the cuffs and pulled him to a stop.

“You get behind me soldier, what are you going to do? Catch bullets with your teeth?”

Crowley chuckled ruefully and gestured in the direction of the north wing with his head. 

“Okay, you have a point. You’re the boss, lead the way.”

*

Teddy and his team were making headway, they were through the entrance to the processing area and moving from cubicle to cubicle, slowly forcing back the enemy combatants who didn’t have the skill to resist. So far, they’d only suffered one casualty, non- fatal but had taken out at least three of the men engaging them.

Ahead, a man popped his head up from behind a partition at the wrong time and Teddy’s three shot burst put him down. That apparently was enough, and he saw two men break cover and run.

“Mop ‘em up,” said Teddy waving his men through.

Stiles team came forward, and Teddy waved him over.

“Easier than I expected.”

“You could have left some for us, Sir!”

Before Teddy could give a smart response, gunfire erupted ahead.

“Looks like I did!”

They both broke into a sprint.

The firefight deeper in the northern wing was vicious and brief, only coming to an end when the man leading them ran out of ammo and turned on his heels and ran. 

“With me!”

Teddy’s side had lost three men and this time he led them after the retreating man, in case of anymore nasty surprises.

*

Dougie was facing the way the Weasel had gone when Josephine and Crowley turned the corner to find him. Startled the kid turned and with a violently wobbling arm aimed the pistol in their direction.

Gunfire crackled from the north and the clearly terrified kid jumped.

“Don’t move!” he said.

“Kid,” said Josephine, her pistol aimed unwaveringly in his direction. “Its all over. I don’t want to hurt you, so just put the gun down.”

“N-n-no. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“She’s right,” said Crowley. “Dougie isn’t it? That gunfire means the US army is here Dougie and you need to put your weapon down before-”

The sound of booted feet coming fast caused Dougie to swing his gun away from them and as a figure burst into view, he squeezed his eyes shut and fired.

Ron ‘The Weasel’ Toohey, looked down at the hole in his chest, then at Dougie in disbelief.

“Dougie, you dickhead…” he managed to rasp before he fell flat on his face. 

Dougie dropped the pistol like it was a hot rock and made a guttural noise deep in his throat and ran to his leader’s side. On his knees, he cried as he tried to shake the Weasel awake. It was a pitiful sight, and Josephine, went across and put a hand on his shoulder.

Crowley kicked his discarded gun to the back of the room and was walking across to join her when another figure burst into burst into view.

This one was a ghost.

*

“Hello Cap.”

A wave of emotions threatened to engulf Crowley. Shock, disbelief, and sheer joy wrestled for supremacy.

“Jesus, you look like you see a ghost,” said Teddy grinning, and breaking the spell as Stiles and the others came up behind him.

“I do,” said Crowley, jogging over to him.

With his hands still cuffed behind his back it was awkward, but Teddy took him in a bear hug, clapping his friend’s back and burying his face in the captain’s shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, no words spoken, before Josephine cleared her throat loudly.

“Should I be worried?”

The two friends broke away and she held her arms open, not failing to notice the tears both men were shedding. Teddy took her in a hug too and swung her around.

“Maybe I should be worried?” said Crowley drily.

“So, where the hell have you been, Teddy?” the captain asked, when they separated.

“Oh, you know, wrestling monster bears, shooting dogs and saving the world…”

EPILOGUE

With Josephine’s encouragement, Crowley decided to allow Dougie and Brad Rodgers to stay under strict conditions. The other three surviving members of the Weasel’s group, two of them sporting minor wounds, were banished and under threat of execution told to never to come back to the valley, let alone the prison.

They spent the first three days mopping up the mess and burying and cremating the dead before sitting down and deliberating over whether to leave the relative safety of the prison for a chance at reaching South Dakota before the closed the borders permanently.

The civilians now outnumbered Crowley’s team and he wasn’t willing to make the decision without taking a vote. Things had changed dramatically, and if things were going to go smoothly, they would need to operate as a democracy going forward.

So, it was decided that apart from Brad and Dougie, everyone, even the children, would vote on two items. One on someone to lead the group, which Crowley won unopposed, and the other on whether they should leave for South Dakota or stay and wait to see how things panned out, with the hopes that the government would find some way to get things back to normal.

It was a narrow victory to the ‘Stay Behind’ group. Crowley and most of his people had voted to try for South Dakota but took the result on the chin. Teddy had voted to stay behind, he’d had enough of being out in the open and fighting for his life, and Crowley couldn’t blame him.

Five days in, they were into a routine of sorts. Crowley had assigned tasks and chores to all the civilian adults in the group, while Josephine resumed lessons for the children. It was difficult, they were varied in age and of course she had no textbooks or internet access for learning resources, so everything she taught was from memory. Crowley sat in a few times and was in awe of her memory and discipline.

His men were assigned guard duty and tasks outside, one of which was to dig a garden so they could begin to grow at least some of their food from the packets of seeds he had picked up on their supply run. He’d made Brad Rodgers second in charge of that task, and the kid took to it with gusto, quickly earning the respect of the other men.

Dougie took a little longer to get over the death of the Weasel, but eventually, after talking to Rodgers he’d found out the kid was a tech geek and had almost singlehandedly connected and set up the surveillance equipment in the prison, not to mention operating the drone that had picked them up before they’d discovered the prison.

Once he had that knowledge, it was easy to win over the kid and soon the drone was in the air again and monitoring the approaches to their location.

On the afternoon of the sixth night since the battle, he, Josephine and Teddy had climbed the northeastern watch tower with the bottle of wine Crowley had brought back for her to watch the sunset. 

There was lots of laughter and teasing, and they were all enjoying their second and final glass when Dougie opened the door unexpectedly and came in frowning, his eyes glued to the screen of the drone control pad he had in his hands.

“Dougie?” said Josephine. “You okay?

“I think you should see this Captain,” he said, crossing to Crowley and turning the device towards him.

Crowley squinted at the screen. The light was poor as the sun was barely a pink smudge on the horizon now, but he could make out movement. Lots of movement across the darker green of the ground. He took the device of Dougie and looked closer.

It was a crowd of people, but something was strange about the way they were moving. He handed the remote back to Dougie.

“Take it down closer will you.”

Dougie expertly flicked the two levers on the device and handed it back.

Now Crowley could make out individuals, and what he saw chilled him.

Their movement was jerky and chaotic, and some weren’t walking or running, they were loping on all fours.

“Where is this Dougie?” He asked, his voice now an octave higher.

Dougie raised a hand and pointed at the distant ridge, their first vantage point upon discovering the valley.

“Holy Christ…” whispered Teddy.

Even as they looked, shapes appeared on the ridge, silhouetted by the light of the sinking sun, and began pouring down the slopes.

The End of Book Three