Aftermath (14 page)

“
And
I
do what
I
can do.” Lee faced forward. When he spoke again it was quiet and sober. “This is no way to live. No one wants to be afraid for the rest of their life. We all want to get our old lives back. Of course, our old lives are gone. We’ll never get them back. What we can get back is our sense of pride, our sense of decency.” He sighed. “It’s difficult to explain. Sometimes I think I’m just fighting so I can have a chance to stop fighting.”

Harper smiled. “Makes sense in a twisted sort of way.”

Lee shrugged. “That’s my answer.”

“
And you’re stickin’ to it,” Harper finished.

Doc didn’t say anything. He appeared lost in thought, staring out the passenger’s side window.

“
Roadblock,” Harper murmured.

Lee sat forward and peered over the top of his rifle as Harper brought the pickup to a stop and angled it so that Lee could gain a better view of the roadblock. This one consisted of two cars completely blocking the road, and one in the ditch to the right as though it had tried to go around and gotten stuck. On either side the road rose up in a steep embankment with trees at the top.

Lee put his eye to the glass and scoped out the roadblock.

“
Back up,” he said quickly.

“
What?” Harper asked, but was already putting the truck in reverse. “What’d you see?”

Lee watched the roadblock with his naked eye until it was nearly obscured by a bend in the road. “Stop.”

Harper obediently stopped the truck.

“
I didn’t see anything. Yet,” Lee said, sighting through the scope again. What he noticed was the way the two vehicles in the roadway were positioned. They were nose to nose, taking up both lanes, but didn’t appear to have the significant damage that one might expect from a head-on collision.

Someone had parked them there to block the road.

He watched the two cars in the center with a steady unblinking eye. Seconds ticked by, turning gradually into a minute, then two. Then, just as Lee was about to give up and look elsewhere he saw the top of a blonde head poke up and peer over the top of one of the hoods.

“
Got one.” Lee called it. “Doesn’t look infected. Two now. Two men.”

“
They look hostile?” Josh was almost climbing over the center console.

“
Definitely looks like they’re trying to set an ambush, but I don’t see any weapons yet. Wait…” From out of the car in the ditch emerged a female. She was younger, possibly late teens or early twenties, and somewhat pretty, with dark hair, jean shorts, and a thin white tank top.

Bait for the trap,
he thought.

The woman stood in the roadway, faced them, and began waving her arms.

“
Is she waving at us?” Harper squinted his eyes.

“
Back up more,” Lee said. “Until we’re out of sight.”

The pickup lurched backwards and put more distance between them and the roadblock. When the roadblock was comfortably hidden by the bend of the road, Lee opened his door and stepped out. He pointed to Harper. “Give me five minutes to get in position, and then I want you to very cautiously approach that roadblock. If they start shooting I want you to get down behind that engine block and haul ass away from here. Just remember: door panels don’t stop bullets.”

“
What about you?” Harper stammered.

“
I’ll catch up with you guys.” He gave him a thumbs up and hoped this wasn’t a huge mistake. “Don’t worry.”

He turned and dipped down into the ditch on the side of the road, slinging his rifle as he went. Then he scrambled up the embankment and disappeared into the woods.

***

Harper watched the captain vanish into the woods, moving with a feral intensity that creeped him out a bit.

Doc snorted. “Who does this guy think he is? Fucking John Rambo?”

“
He knows what he’s doing,” Harper said quietly.

Miller stuck his head in through the open back glass. “Uh...what the hell we doin’, Bill?”

“
Sorry,” Harper realized no one had explained to Miller what was happening. “Roadblock ahead.”

“
Why’s the captain runnin’ off by himself?”

Doc put on an official voice. “Because he’s a secret government operative, capable of overcoming all the evil in the world.”

“
Would you shut the fuck up!” Harper suddenly shouted. “You were the one that asked to come on this trip! All you’ve done is sit there and bitch! If that’s how you’re going to be for the rest of it, you can get the hell outta the truck and get to steppin’ back to camp!”

Doc shut his mouth.

“
So...” Miller trailed off.

“
Roadblock.” Josh took over for Harper. “Captain Harden told us to give him five minutes, and then we’re going to approach the roadblock.”

Miller nodded coolly and then pulled his head out of the back glass and stood up, looking over the top of the cab.

Time stretched.

The clock on the dash had only passed about two minutes.

The silence in the car was absolute as everyone intermittently stared at where the road disappeared into the bend, and then back to the little green digits of the clock. Legs bounced and fingers tapped. Everyone held their guns with sweaty hands and bloodless knuckles.

Finally, five minutes passed.

Harper let his foot off the brake and the truck started rolling forward again.

They all craned to see the furthest visible point in the road.

The roadblock came into view, and this time the girl was leaning against her car with her head in her hands, the picture of distress. Harper kept the truck rolling slowly, not accelerating, and not slowing down. After a brief moment, the girl seemed to sense that the truck had come back into view. She turned to them and began waving frantically.

“
Maybe she’s really in trouble.” Josh sounded concerned.

“
Just watch for the two guys behind the cars.” Harper felt the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand up. They were committed now. They were rolling into the roadblock. If it was indeed a trap, Harper had the feeling they wouldn’t get away before the two guys behind the roadblock opened up on them.

He hoped the captain knew what he was doing.

As the truck drew closer to the roadblock, the girl ran up to driver’s window. Her face was a mask of despair, but she was attractive nonetheless. As she approached, Harper couldn’t help himself from noticing the two dark nipples under the thin clothe of the white tank top. Nor could he help from noticing the purple and yellow bruises on the sides of her arms and around the base of her neck.

“
Please! Please help!” She was pointing to the car in the ditch. “My dad’s hurt! He needs help! Please!”

Harper swore under his breath.

Everyone in the truck was in complete vapor-lock. No one knew what the fuck to do.

Should we get out of the truck?

Should we drive away?

“
Please! He’s hurt!” she pleaded.

“
Harper,” Doc sounded stressed. “Just let me take a look.”

And then several things happened in such quick succession, an outside observer would have seen them as simultaneous. But Harper saw each thing individually, like they were all snapshots laid out in front of him, one after the other.

The girl was backing away from them, hands down at her sides, shaking. The look of desperation was gone from her face and had been replaced by a hollow expression. Regret?

Perhaps guilt.

He blinked, and then there were two men, standing behind the roadblock, pointing guns at them.

His stomach tightened.

To his left came the sound of leaves and branches parting, and then the same noise, to his right. He looked and saw a man running out of the woods, coming straight at the passenger’s side of the truck, pointing what looked like an SKS at him and screaming, “Get out of the fucking car!”

And all Harper could think of were Lee’s words:
Door panels don’t stop bullets.

Harper put his hands up, not daring to go for his shotgun, or the revolver in his pocket.

This guy had him dead to rights.

His door opened and he felt someone grab him by the collar and then he was being pulled out of the vehicle. He couldn’t get his feet under him fast enough and he tripped and sprawled onto the pavement, his chin striking the concrete and leaving flesh behind.

Rough hands grabbed him up.

His own warm blood trickled from his chin down his neck.

The guy with the SKS was still yelling at Doc and Josh and Miller to get out of the car.

Harper found his feet and stood, holding his chin. Josh got out of the truck, looking terrified. Harper was sure he wore the same expression. Doc just kept yelling back, “I’m a doctor! I’m a doctor!” Harper tried to count how many there were. Two behind the roadblock, covering them with rifles. One on either side of their vehicle.

Four armed gunmen?

The man with the SKS grabbed Doc by the shoulder and spun him so he was facing the bed of the truck. Over the top of the bed, Harper could see Doc’s eyes were shut tightly. The gunman seized the scrawny guy by the back of the neck and slammed him hard against the side of the truck while screaming in his ear. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

Doc closed his mouth. Then he opened his eyes.

His gaze fell on Harper and there was a horrific certainty hanging in the air between them:
We’re gonna die now. This is it.

And then Harper heard a sound he’d never heard before in his life. If you asked him to describe it after that moment, he would have struggled to compare it to anything he’d ever experienced and would have eventually settled on the description that it sounded like someone hitting an overripe watermelon with a baseball bat.

That sound was so distinct and unexpected, that when the rifle report cracked through the woods a second later, Harper didn’t put them together. Everyone seemed to stand motionless after the rifle report. The only body moving was that of the man with the SKS, pitching forward with the right half of his head missing. He struck the side of the truck and then collapsed to the ground.

Then all hell broke loose.

The girl started screaming.

Josh made a break for the truck and his rifle inside.

The man that had pulled Harper out of the truck shouted something unintelligible at Josh and began swinging his weapon towards him. Harper thought it looked like another SKS, but this one had a long and wicked bayonet attached to it and all Harper could see was that rusty-looking blade swinging toward Josh.

Without thinking, he lurched out and grabbed the rifle.

The man turned towards Harper and began frantically pulling at the rifle, trying to break Harper’s grip on it. The “man” wasn’t much older than Josh, Harper thought, but his face was lean and savage, like the difference between a lap dog and a coyote.

The rifle bucked in their hands as they struggled, the bullet punching a neat hole in the door panel of the pickup truck.

“
I’munna fuckin’ kill you!” The savage shouted repeatedly, furious at first, and then terrified as he began to lose his grip on the rifle. “I’munna fuckin’ kill you! I’munna fuckin’ kill you! I’munna...”

Harper twisted his body, pulling the man-boy off his balance and then planted a foot in his midsection and ripped the rifle from his hands. They both toppled backwards—Harper into the truck and his attacker to the ground.

He tried to tell the kid to stay down, but his wind was gone from his lungs and the only thing that came out was a hoarse croak. In his mind the words circled manically like flies around a corpse:
Don’t get up! Don’t Get Up! DON’T GET UP!

In the background, another wet smack followed by another delayed rifle report.

The kid reached for his belt, still laying on his back and produced a buck-knife. For a second, Harper thought maybe he was going to throw it down and surrender, but instead he leaned forward and tried to get up.

Harper moved fast, with a shout of rage and horror that came out of a place inside of him he didn’t know existed. Rage at the kid’s apparent willingness to die, and horror at his own ability to oblige him. But he didn’t stop himself, and he rammed that bayonet straight down into the kid’s stomach. He felt the initial resistance from clothing and taut skin, and then the sudden, sickening release as the rusty blade slipped inside.

The man-boy’s eyes went wide and panicked and he made a choking, gagging noise. Then he found his breath, and started screaming. Harper screamed along with him until his lungs were empty, but the kid would not stop. He just kept going, kept screaming, endlessly,
stop screaming stop screaming stop screaming please please stop screaming!
And through it all, like a wild animal stuck on a trap, he kept thrashing around underneath the blade and trying to pull it out of himself, but Harper leaned his entire weight down on it so that he could feel the tip of the blade scraping concrete.