Rolling Thunder - 03 (9 page)

Rachel’s comment had distracted me, but I didn’t lower the
rifle.  Something wasn’t right here.  Assuming the cops were actually out
looking for survivors, which I doubted this close to the time of the departure
of the last train, I sure didn’t think they would be driving around in anything
other than police issue vehicles.  Maybe I was wrong, but I wasn’t ready to bet
our lives on it.  Maintaining my aim at the man who had stepped forward I moved
my eyes around, scanning the area. 

We were facing a medium sized parking lot that I guessed was
where the warehouse employees parked.  Over forty vehicles were in the lot and
all looked like they’d been sitting in the same place for a while.  Trash had
blown against and been trapped by a few of the tires and even during a heavy
downpour of rain the glass looked dirty and streaked.  To the right a tall,
chain link fence guarded the pavement from the other side of the weedy lot we
had seen when we were looking for a way around the warehouse.  The river was to
our left and directly ahead the parking lot had an exit to the road where the
tall barricade sat.  Nothing was moving other than the males banging up against
the fence in the lot to my right.

“How did you know we were here?”  I shouted, turning my
attention fully back to the two men.  Rachel picked up the tone in my voice and
took a couple of steps back to stand next to me, adjusting the grip on her
rifle as she moved.

“We need to go,” he shouted back, shooting a quick glance at
his partner who was still mostly concealed behind the driver side door.  “The
train is leaving soon and we need to get you to the station so you can get
seats.”  I wasn’t certain enough to start shooting, but everything about these
guys felt wrong.

“We’re just fine walking,” I shouted back.  “I’m sure
there’s other people that need your help more than us.”

They exchanged glances again, then the driver made his
move.  He had been standing close to the door and stepped back to raise the
shotgun he had kept hidden.  In my world the time it takes to move a step and
try to bring a cumbersome weapon up and into play is an eternity.  I shifted
aim and shot him through the face shield before the muzzle of the shotgun
cleared the door, then snapped my aim back to the other man.  When I’d shot his
partner he’d grabbed for his pistol, but hadn’t even gotten it out of the
holster before the muzzle of my rifle was once again aimed at his head.  He
froze in a partial crouch, right arm back and bent at the elbow with his hand
on the butt of the pistol.  I thought about just shooting him and taking the
truck and getting on with our evening, but I was curious what they had wanted
with us. 

“Go down there, take Dog with you, and get his weapons.  Be
sure you circle around and never get in my line of fire.  Approach him from the
side so you’re in the clear if I have to shoot.”  I said to Rachel, then
remembered her concussion.  “You up to it?  Feeling OK?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, called Dog and headed to a set of
steps a few yards away that led down into the parking lot. 

Rachel stayed well to my right, the man’s left as she
circled around, Dog right at her side.  She paused at the pickup to take a look
at the man I’d shot, then continued on behind the truck and crossed to his
right before approaching.

“She’s going to disarm you,” I called out to him.  “If you
so much as blink I’ll blow your fucking head off.  If I miss, that dog will
tear your throat out.  Now stand very still.” 

He didn’t even nod, just remained frozen as Rachel
approached.  When she was still four feet away Dog moved directly in front of
him, his muzzle less than a foot from the man’s crotch and stood staring up at
him.  Leaning in, Rachel extended her arm all the way out, moved his hand off
the pistol and pulled it out of the holster.  Pistol secured in her waistband
at the small of her back she glanced up at me and I walked to the stairs and
down to them, the rifle never wavering off the man’s head.  I stopped ten feet
in front of him and made him lay face down in the parking lot so I could search
him.

Dog moved to stand with his jaws just inches from his head
and I slung my rifle before stepping in and kneeling on the man’s lower back,
swiftly running my hands over his body to check for other weapons.  I found a
small .380 automatic pistol in his left cargo pocket, a four inch knife in a
sheath on his right forearm hidden under the uniform, and another knife inside
his left boot.  Slipping the pistol into my pocket, I handed the knives to
Rachel and flipped him over to search his front but he wasn’t carrying anything
else.  I released the chin strap for the riot helmet and pulled it off his
head, handing that to Rachel as well, thinking it might be good for her to wear
to protect her head.

“So, you’re not a cop.  How did you know we were here and
what did you want with us?”  He was still on his back and I had my left knee
applying pressure on his chest.  Dog stood with his muzzle only inches from the
man’s face and as the rain washed the blood out of his fur some of the red
tinged water fell on his forehead and ran down into his eyes.  Rachel stood a
dozen feet away, rifle in her hands as she kept an eye out for any threats.

“We were just trying to help you!  Why did you shoot…”  I hit
him hard with the side of my hand, directly onto the bridge of his nose which broke
from the blow.  Thank God for the anesthetic Rachel had shot me up with or I
would probably have hurt myself worse than I hurt him.  He groaned and turned
his head to the side as blood started pouring out of his nose, starting to
raise his hands to his face but freezing when Dog bared his fangs and growled.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you,” I said in a
low, even voice.  “How did you know and why did you want us?”

“We saw you break into the warehouse and waited.  We didn’t
want you.”  He sputtered and turned his head to spit blood out of his mouth. 
“We were here for her.”

I have to say I wasn’t terribly surprised at his answer. 
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rachel turn her head and look at him for a
moment before resuming watch on the area.

“What did you want with her?”  I doubted I would be
surprised by his answer.

“There’s a bunch of us that are getting ready to head up
into the hills.  We need women.  Someone’s got to keep the human race going.” 
He said the last like a mantra that he’d heard repeated over and over.  Looking
away in disgust I met Rachel’s eyes.  I knew what she was thinking without even
having to ask because I was thinking the same thing.

“How many women has your group taken?”  I leaned in, the top
of my head brushing Dog’s nose.  He gulped, choosing to swallow the blood still
pouring from his nose this time.

“About 10,” he stammered out.

“Where are they?”

“Man, I can’t tell you… whoa, hold on…” I had drawn my Ka-Bar
and pressed the point into the soft tissue under his jaw.  His eyes were as big
as saucers as he looked into mine, probably trying to decide if I would really
kill him if he didn’t talk.  “There’s a warehouse, about a mile down this road
right here.  That’s where we’re gettin’ things ready to move out.  That’s where
they are, now don’t hurt me again.”  Right choice.

Grabbing his arm I looked at the cheap digital watch he was
wearing.  It was 2215.  We had less than two hours to get to the train. 
Pulling the watch off his wrist I slipped it onto mine, sheathed the blade and
stood up.  Dog took a couple of steps back and the man felt safe enough to raise
his hands up to feel his broken nose.  I looked around as Rachel stepped up on
the other side of him, shooed Dog away then fired a single round into his
head.  She stood staring down at him for a few moments before clicking her
rifle onto safe and letting it hang on its sling.

“We don’t need people like this in the world anymore.”  She
gave me a challenging look, perhaps expecting me to argue with her or exclaim
that she’d just shot a defenseless man.  I thought she knew me better than
that.

“No argument here.  You beat me to the shot.”  I said, walking
over to check the pickup the two dead men had arrived in.

The man I’d shot lay in a crumpled heap in the rain, face
shield shattered where my bullet had gone through before scrambling his brains
for him.  The shotgun was still gripped in his right hand and I pried it loose
to check the load.  Seven shells with 00 buckshot were ready to go and he’d
been close enough to blow a hole the size of a trash can lid right through us. 
Making sure the safety was on I stowed the shotgun in the small Nissan pickup,
waved Dog into the tight space behind the seats and shouted to Rachel to strip
the body armor off the man she had shot.  I started doing the same with mine.

I was going to try and get to the women these guys and their
friends had kidnapped and I felt it was a pretty safe assumption that if these
guys were decked out in riot gear then so were their buddies.  Pulling the last
of it off the body I shrugged out of the packs, depositing them in the bed of
the truck and started trying to adjust the armor to fit my much larger frame. 
After a degree of frustration and cursing I had it all on and went to help
Rachel get the unfamiliar gear strapped on and fitting reasonably well. 

The armor was police issue and of decent quality and would
certainly stop most handgun rounds as well as rifle rounds if the distance was
great enough, but it didn’t make us invincible by a long shot.  I spent a
couple of minutes explaining this to Rachel and making sure she understood.  I
was also paying close attention to her as I spoke and was relieved to see her grasping
what I was saying and responding appropriately.  I had no doubt the concussion
was still affecting her, and she probably had one hell of a headache, but at
least she was functioning again.  Armor in place I ripped the broken face
shield off the helmet and tried to fit it over my head but it was about two
sizes too small.  Oh well, I wanted it for appearances more than protection as
it wouldn’t stop a bullet.  Tossing it away I started to turn to climb in the
truck but Rachel stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“You’re still bleeding.”  She observed, squinting at my head
and neck in the dark.  I reached up to touch my wounds and my hand came away
with blood on it that was quickly washed off by the rain.

“It’s just the rain, keeping it from clotting.  No big veins
or arteries.  If there had been I’d be gone by now.”

“We need to bandage you up.”

“Later,” I said, moving her to the passenger side of the
truck and holding the door for her.  “When we’re safely on the train.  Time is
short and if we’re going to help those women we have to get moving.”

Rachel nodded and climbed into the truck.  I walked around
the hood and climbed behind the wheel, slammed the door, put the truck in gear
and headed for the road.  I was glad the warehouse where the women were being
held was close as well as on our way to the train.  It was now 2231 and I was
getting a little nervous about making it in time.

I drove slowly, without any lights showing.  I didn’t want
anyone at the warehouse to see us coming.  The rain and dark shrank the world
around us and I could only see a few yards beyond the front of the truck which
forced me to keep our speed just above an idle.  There were a couple of wrecks
I had to steer around then had to hop the median to get around a utility pole
that had fallen across the roadway.

I shifted into neutral and let the truck roll to a stop
without touching the brakes when we came around a curve.  Several vehicles with
running lights on were parked next to a medium sized warehouse.  The warehouse
itself was lit and light spilled out through open doors into the parking lot,
revealing several men loading boxes into the back of a large pickup.  I pulled
out my knife and used the pommel to shatter the dome light so I could open the
door without giving away our presence.  Setting the parking brake I popped my
door open and stepped out, bringing my rifle up to use the night scope.  A slow
scan of the area to include the roof of the warehouse didn’t spot any
lookouts.  More amateurs.  There was a group of them, they were armed and
probably used to pushing people around.  They didn’t think someone would come
along and mess with them.

The warehouse was only a couple of hundred yards away from
our position and I decided not to risk driving any closer.  Shutting the truck
off I put the keys on top of the rear tire, made sure Rachel knew where they
were and waved her and Dog out of the truck.  I made another scan of our
target, then scanned 360 degrees around us, still seeing no one on sentry duty
and no threats to our rear.  Shrugging into our packs, we went over to the
sidewalk on the opposite side of the street and started moving towards the
building.  As we walked I frequently used the scope to check the area and also
to get a feel for the movement patterns of the men.

As we closed the distance I started picking up the sounds of
idling engines that had been masked by the sizzling sound the rain made when it
hit the asphalt.  These guys were getting ready to leave.  Between our time
constraint from trying to catch the train and their imminent departure this was
not a good tactical situation.  There was no time to get a headcount, find out
what types of weapons we would be facing, any of the number of things I would
have liked to do before going in.  We didn’t even know where they were keeping
the women.

The fickle little gods of war must have decided to take pity
on me for as soon as I had the thought about the women I spotted them.  An Army
surplus deuce-and-a-half with a canvas cover over the cargo area was idling in
the parking lot and I happened to be looking right at it when one of the men
walked up to it and shined a flashlight in the back.  The light was only on for
a few moments, but that was long enough for me to see several women with
terrified expressions on their faces and the lone guard sitting at the back. 
He was armed with what looked like some sort of assault rifle but was handling
it sloppily, holding it by the barrel just a couple of inches below the
muzzle.  The man with the flashlight had a brief conversation with the guard
then put the canvas flap back in place and went back into the warehouse. 

I spent a couple of minutes outlining for Rachel what I had
in mind and she eagerly agreed.  Rushing into a situation with absolutely no
intel and with a clock ticking in the back of your head is never good, but it
was go now or watch them drive away any minute.  We crossed the street, heading
directly for the back of the truck.  I stayed to Rachel’s left and moved Dog to
my left.  As we drew closer I could hear male voices shouting back and forth
inside the warehouse.  Pausing Rachel with my hand I made another scan of the
area with my scope, this time spotting a lone figure at the far end of the
parking lot.  He was sheltering from the rain under a shallow overhang and
staring off into space.  I could make out a holstered pistol and a bolt action
hunting rifle slung over his slumped shoulders. 

He hadn’t been there the last time I’d scanned, I was sure
of that, but didn’t bother dwelling on it.  He had probably been around the
corner taking a piss, or just looking for a different view.  Few things in life
are as mind-numbingly boring as sentry duty. 

“This is about to get bloody.”  I said to Rachel,
maintaining my aim on the sentry.  “Are you sure you’re in?”

“I have had it with men thinking because the world is
falling apart that they can just take a woman and do whatever they want to
her.  Fuck them.  They made their choice, now they’ve got to pay the price.” 
Rachel’s voice was harder than I’d ever heard it.  I suppose if I was a
psychologist or psychiatrist, whatever the difference is, I would have been
able to articulate how Rachel’s trauma in Georgia was affecting her now, but
I’m not.  I am, however, smart enough to understand the connection.  Besides, I
happened to agree with her.  Every time I thought about my wife in Arizona I
said a little silent prayer that she hadn’t fallen victim to some assholes like
these.

“OK, here we go.”  I said and squeezed the rifle’s trigger. 
The sentry dropped like I’d cut the strings that were holding him up when my
bullet shattered his skull, the heavy rain masking any sounds the body made
falling to the ground.  I scanned again, re-checked the roof and finding nothing
started us moving.  We walked straight to the back of the truck and I
positioned myself to the side as Rachel stepped up to the canvas flap and
pulled it open.

“Please, help me.  Can you help me?”  She was good, putting
just the right tone of ‘helpless female’ in her voice.

“What the hell?”  I heard scrambling from inside and then
the guard stuck his head out of the opening to look at Rachel.  He hadn’t
bothered to raise his rifle to protect himself, and I didn’t hesitate to
strike.

Lunging forward I buried all eight inches of the Ka-Bar into
his throat, grabbed his collar with my other hand and yanked the body out of
the truck.  I maintained my grip on him all the way to the ground, the steel
blade in his throat ensuring he couldn’t call out for help.  Withdrawing the
blade I changed its angle and stabbed up into his head, slicing into his
brain.  Cleaning the blade on his jacket I sheathed it and checked the area
again with my rifle.  Three men with boxes loaded in their arms were coming out
of the warehouse, headed for one of the parked pickups. 

“Get in there and make sure they stay quiet.  We may have a
problem here.”  I said to Rachel as I tracked the three men.  I heard her
scramble up into the cargo area and start talking to the women in a low voice. 
Dog was at my side, shoulder pressed to my hip and ready to run or fight,
whatever I needed him to do.

The three men had come out of the warehouse door and turned
to their left.  There were three trucks parked in that direction, and if they
were going to the closest one I probably had nothing to worry about.  But if
they went to the second or third they would very likely spot the body of the
sentry I had shot.  They were laughing and talking as they walked, not paying
attention to their surroundings and went right past the first truck, then the
second and up to the third where they set the boxes down in the bed and started
packing them in place.  The sentry’s body was ten feet from them, but they were
so absorbed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed it.

Finishing what they were doing, all three turned to go back
into the warehouse.  As one they froze when they saw the body and I didn’t wait
to engage.  Pulling the trigger I shot the one on the left in the back of the
head, the body pitching forward onto the pavement.  I had already shifted aim
and fired my second round before the first body hit the ground and the second
man went down without even having a chance to start moving.  Unfortunately the
third guy had better reflexes and had started to move when I fired, my bullet
hitting him but not fatally.  He disappeared behind one of the pickups and
started screaming for help.  A heartbeat later there were shouts from within
the warehouse, and it sounded like a lot of men.