Exiled Omnibus (11 page)

Brooke wrestled with the decision all night. The dark circles under her eyes were a sign of her struggle. Ultimately, though, she knew she only had one option. She had to go into Phoenix.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Brent said

.

“My family can’t stay here, Brent. I need to get to North Carolina, and I won’t be able to do that without a vehicle. Now, unless you have something around here?”

“No. Nothing that I can give you.”

“Then it’s settled.”

The next order of business was to figure out what to do with her children. She knew that bringing them into the city would be dangerous, but she still wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable leaving her kids with these people. In the end, she knew that if something happened to her, Emily and John would have a better chance of survival with this group.

“I should be coming with you,” John said.

“Your job is to protect your sister.”

“But I can help.”

“I know you can, and this is how you can do it.”

Emily wrapped her arms around Brooke’s legs and squeezed. Brooke picked her up and wiped the dirt away from her cheek before she kissed it.

Brent was kind enough to loan back some of the water and food rations they’d bartered so she could have supplies for the trip. The boxes of ammunition for her pistol were one of the few items that hadn’t been destroyed in the Mexicans’ assault.

“If you don’t make it back,” Brent said, “I’ll make sure your kids are well taken care of.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s a three-hour walk to Phoenix. I would stay off the main roads the closer you get. Make it difficult for someone to find you.”

“I will.”

“Good luck.”

Brooke gave Emily another kiss, and John didn’t grimace when he received one on the cheek. She adjusted the strap on the pack Brent had loaned her and started the long walk to Phoenix.

***

Two miles before she made it to the edge of Phoenix, Brooke moved off the road and trudged through the sand. Each step forward thrust her foot downward into the hot, grainy earth. It took twice as much effort to trek through the desert as it did on the road.

Brooke pulled one of her water bottles from the side carrier of her pack and pulled her shemagh down to take a drink. The water was warm, but she still took the time to down the water for at least ten seconds. Whenever she traveled through the desert on foot, she always made sure to drink in large gulps. People often made the mistake of sipping their water to try and conserve what they had left. There were always horror stories of people dying from dehydration with full canteens still in their hands.

The desert ended as Phoenix’s city limits began. Brooke crossed the threshold and traded one desolate wasteland for another. Smoke from fires rose upward into the sky. The smaller fires she passed added to the already-scorching heat. Hell would be cooler than her current location.

Brooke’s pistol was holstered on her hip. She’d only ever worn the holster the handful of times she’d made it to the range, but her hazardous surroundings warranted the revolver being closer to her grip. If someone came down on her, she didn’t want to worry about fumbling the gun out of her pocket or waistband.

The streets of the city had long been abandoned. The roads were riddled with cracks and potholes. Whatever money the city had generated before the exile wasn’t being used on road repairs.

She glanced at the skyscrapers above, built during a time when water still flowed through the veins of the city, giving it life. Now, most of the building doors were boarded up, and the massive buildings had wilted from the heat. There wasn’t room for giants here.

Most of the city had been migrating east long before the president’s announcement. She knew the population here had dwindled, but she still had yet to see a single soul, which she found odd.

Brooke stepped lightly. She checked behind her, to the side, and in front for anyone that could jump out at her. The hairs on the back of her neck kept sticking up. She had the overwhelming sense that someone was watching her.

A trashcan crashed in the alley next to her. Brooke pulled her gun. The only thing she saw was a cat crawling out from behind the rolling can.

Brooke let out a sigh. Her whole body immediately loosened to jelly, and she holstered her pistol. The cat was small, and she could see the animal’s ribcage. She bent down, trying to coax the animal out.

“Come here. It’s okay,” Brooke said.

The cat growled and hissed. The hair on its back stood straight up, and it backed up beneath the dumpster into hiding. Brooke shrugged it off.

“Well, I was always a dog person anyway,” she said.

Brooke’s knee popped when she stood from her crouched position. Her legs were stiff. She was rubbing her thigh when she heard the rumble of an engine at the alley’s street entrance. The truck never crossed by, but she heard the slam of doors and men’s voices.

Two men appeared at the end of the alley. Brooke tried making out their faces, but the position of the sun cast them in shadows.

“Hello, there,” the man called out.

“Hello,” Brooke said.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hey, listen, do you know where we can get to the military base from here? We’re on our way to see my cousin who’s a cadet there, and we got turned around.”

Brooke’s hand went to her revolver. She took a few steps forward, looking for any weapons they might have, but she could see both pairs of hands, and they had no visible rifles or pistols on them.

“Are you from around here?” his partner asked.

“The base is north of here,” Brooke answered.

“Thanks. Hey, do you think you could point it out to us on a map? We’ve got our truck with us just around the corner.”

Brooke kept her hand on the revolver. When she was close enough for the two men to see the weapon, both of them put their hands in the air.

“Whoa. Hey, we don’t want any trouble,” the man said.

Both stepped backward. While keeping their hands in the air, they pointed around the corner of the alley. Brooke took her hand off the pistol, and the two men relaxed. They disappeared around the corner, and when Brooke followed them, she saw a red truck caked in sand. The same truck that had chased her through the Mojave.

Brooke reached for the pistol again and fired shots at the two men, who were sprinting to the truck. They grabbed rifles out of the truck bed and fired back. Bullets ricocheted off the building walls as Brooke jumped back into the alley for cover.

She crouched behind the wall, her knees hovering just above the ground. She aimed the pistol around the corner and emptied the revolver’s chamber. The bullets thumped into the side of the truck as both men ducked.

Brooke reached into her pack for more ammo. As she loaded the 9mm bullets into the chamber, she heard the truck engine start up. She sprinted down the alleyway to try and get to the other end. A few of the bullets spilled from her hand as she ran, clinking against the asphalt.

She turned around to see the truck barreling toward her. Brooke aimed the pistol and fired, sending bullets into the windshield. The glass cracked and the truck swerved, slamming into the alley walls, knocking off both side mirrors. Then it crashed into the dumpster, crumpling the truck’s hood.

Smoke filled the alleyway, and Brooke kept the revolver aimed at the truck. Her boots crunched over the small shards of glass from the broken driver-side window as she approached. The driver’s head hung limp, and blood soaked his chest.

The man in the passenger seat moaned. He stirred, but Brooke kept her pistol aimed at him.

“I can’t feel my arm,” he said.

Brooke could feel the small sliver of steel that was the revolver’s trigger. All she had to do was pull. She had killed those Mexican raiders that attacked her. He was no different than them.

“Hey, lady, don’t do this,” he said.

She stepped closer, leaning over the dead driver’s body until the revolver’s barrel was only a few inches from the injured man’s face. Brooke’s heart was racing. The pistol in her hand wavered.

“How many people have asked you not to do it?” Brooke asked.

Brooke pressed the gun’s barrel into the man’s cheek. He shuddered. She pushed harder. He whimpered.

“Don’t do this,” the man said.

Just squeeze. One simple motion.
As she jammed the pistol farther into the man’s cheek, spit flew from his mouth as he continued to beg. Then her concentration was broken by the rumble of another engine behind her.

***

One Humvee and four men were all that Eric was able to get approved. One armored vehicle against the potential violence of an entire city. He was less than thrilled.

They put on as much body armor as was allowed and headed into Phoenix to search for supplies and recruits. Eric knew Captain Howard wanted this excursion to act as an olive branch to the people of the city, but he decided against bringing any supplies with him. He wanted to scout the area before opening up a soup kitchen.

Eric had the pleasure of being accompanied by two Marines, an Army Ranger, and a retired Navy SEAL who had headed to Luke AFB the moment he heard the president’s announcement. Despite the odds, he felt confident in the knowledge and experience that surrounded him.

Jim Nabb was the Army Ranger. He was only in his late twenties, but the thick beard used to cover the scars on his face made him look ten years older. He had been sent to the AFB when orders came in for him to assist in “relocation” efforts. That was all the information that was given to him. It wasn’t until he made it to Phoenix and heard the president’s speech that he understood what it meant. While the rest of the base was shipping out, he was in the streets of Phoenix, trying to help citizens who couldn’t help themselves. It was a losing battle.

“Aren’t you hot wearing that fur coat on your face all the time?” Eric asked.

“A little, but I also never have to wear sunscreen. It irritates my sensitive skin,” Jim answered, smiling.

“The ladies won’t let me get rid of mine,” Tuck replied.

Tuck was the former Navy SEAL. In addition to the bristly beard, he had a bit of a gut, which Eric chose not to comment on because of Tuck’s sizeable frame. The man had bear paws for hands and towered well over six-four. It didn’t take Tuck long to put two and two together during the morning of the exile. Once the looting started, the safest place in his mind was the Air Force base. He knew most of the people inside, so it was easy for him to get in.

“Our Marines are pretty quiet back there. How are we feeling, jarheads?” Eric asked.

“Oo-rah, Lieutenant,” they said in unison.

Tuck looked back behind him.

“You don’t have to call him that. Technically, none of us are even in the military right now,” Tuck said.

“He’s right,” Eric said. “You don’t have to go through the formalities of ‘sir’ or ‘Lieutenant.’ ‘God of War’ will do just fine.”

Eric managed to get a smile out of both Marines. They couldn’t have been older than twenty. Still baby faced and fresh out of boot camp, they were itching for some action. At least that’s what they thought they wanted.

“So what’s the plan, God of War?” Tuck asked.

“Our main objective is to search for supplies: food, water, ammo. If we can pull in some recruits to help at the base, that’s a plus,” Eric answered.

“And what happens to the people still here?” Jim asked.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But anyone that fires on us should be considered an enemy. No matter who they are,” Eric said.

It wasn’t an easy thing to ask. All of them had joined the military to protect the citizens of their country. Not fight them.

Eric slowed the Humvee. Everyone turned to him as the engine idled.

“You hear that?” Eric asked.

“Hear what?” Tuck responded.

Eric threw the Humvee into reverse. He kept his head to the left, searching for the source of the noise. Down the alleyway, smoke rose into the sky from a wrecked truck. A woman held a gun to a man’s head. The man was screaming for help.

“What the hell?” Tuck asked.

The three men exited the vehicle and walked slowly toward her. They raised their rifles, and when the woman saw them, she didn’t move her pistol off of the man’s cheek.

“Drop it!” Jim yelled.

“This isn’t any of your business,” she answered.

Eric watched her through the scope of his rifle. She looked familiar. He’d seen that face before.

“I don’t know what he did to you, lady, but put the gun down,” Tuck said.

“She’s crazy! Shoot her!” the man inside the truck yelled.

“Shut up!” the woman screamed.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Eric asked.

The woman’s eyes shifted between the man in the truck, Eric, Tuck, and Jim. Eric could see that her finger was still on the trigger.

“Hey,” Eric repeated.

This time the woman looked right at him.

“He’s not worth it,” Eric said.

The woman slowly moved the pistol from the man’s cheek. Her finger slid off the trigger. Finally, she lowered the revolver. Eric relaxed. Then, the moment the woman turned her head away from the man in the truck, the man reached his right arm across his body and grabbed her arm. He yanked her forward, slamming her head into the edge of the truck’s roof.

A shot rang out and pierced the windshield. The bullet flew through the man’s chest, and the woman collapsed to the ground. Eric looked over to see the smoke from Jim’s barrel rising into the air.