Stryker: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale (10 page)

“I don’t use my
first name.”

“Would you tell
me?” She waited.

“Caleb.”

“That’s a nice
name.”

“Go to sleep,” he
grunted. “We have an early day tomorrow.”

Erin woke later and
gazed down at the slab of a man who lay snoring below her. He was outlined by
moonlight that spilled in through the living room window. She had seen a soft,
nice side of the man when he wanted to make sure the women had clothes so they
wouldn’t be embarrassed, as well as a brutal man who didn’t follow conventional
rules of behavior. He certainly wasn’t what she would call attractive. His
lantern jaw and sloping forehead made him look almost like a cave man; but the
washed-out blue eyes burned with an intelligence she had never seen before.
When he was bathing in the back yard, she noticed that his arms, with fingers extended,
reached almost to his kneecaps, giving him an almost Simian appearance.

She had the usual
boyfriends: young, anxious men, some of whom showered her with affection. But
this man confused her. He had come to rescue them when her grandfather asked him
to help. He asked for no thanks for doing so. He risked his life to save her
sister and the other women and treated it like a day on a routine job. She fell
back into the couch and wondered what sort of man he really was.

Stryker heard a
rustling sound from the couch, then felt her eyes on him. He thought about how
well she proved herself in the battle, and how she defied them by coming back
with the M-40 and taking part in the fight. She was not hard to look at and
seemed to be smart. He pushed the thought down and away. It was too soon after
his wife and daughter’s death. He thought some more about it.

“I know you’re
awake and wondering about me. You can just ask me anything, whenever you want.
All I can promise is to be honest.” Erin remained mute, shocked that the man
knew she was watching and that she was wondering about him. She rolled to her
other side and closed her eyes.

Sarge and Stryker
stood on the porch of the house drinking coffee taken from the basement. They
were the first to wake and enjoyed the morning drink in a prolonged silence as
the sun glanced over the horizon to the east. Stryker often wondered why he
knew so few people who enjoyed the idea of not having to fill the air with
words, mostly meaningless ones, when in the company of another person.

“Guess we need to
gear up Mia when she gets up,” Stryker said.

“We can spare an AR
and one of the Glocks.”

“We’ll need to find
a vehicle and give her some food and water. I found an atlas in the basement
this morning when I went for the coffee. That will help some.”

“You think she
should take back roads?” Sarge asked.

“I don’t know. I
can see advantages to both. We got here petty fast by taking the interstate and
going around larger cities. I think she would be less likely to encounter an ambush.
It’s pretty hard to hit a target going eighty miles an hour. When I traveled
from Pendleton to the ranch, I only saw five or six people along the
interstate. Besides, the trouble the women had happened because they were a
static target.”

“Same with me,”
Sarge replied. “When I came to the ranch, I was on interstate most of the way.”
The men both grew silent, considering the odds.

“You going to check
her out with the weapons?”

“I better. Having a
permit doesn’t guarantee she either shoots well or knows how to safely handle
one.”

“I’ll check out the
basement with Erin while you do that. Then we can head toward town and see what
kind of vehicle we can find. I have jumper cables in the rear of the truck cab,
so we should be able to get something running.”

“Morning,” Haley
said as she passed through the screen door. “Did everybody sleep well?”

Both men nodded and
continued to sip their coffee. Five minutes later, the entire group was up and
a second pot was brewing. Erin glanced at Stryker and saw his expression was no
different from yesterday. It was as though he hadn’t said anything the previous
evening, and that confused her. She looked away and started chatting with Elle
and Jenna.

“No offence,” Haley
said, “but we all smell pretty ripe and are going to be riding together all
day. There’s a bucket by the well out back and some soap and towels. I’m going
to head back there and bathe, then try to find some fresh clothes in the
house.”

“There’s a garbage
bag full of clean clothes in the back of the pickup,” Erin said. “I’ll get it
and leave it on the back porch.” She disappeared after setting her mug on the
table. An hour later, everyone was clean with fresh clothes except Stryker.
Nothing in the house fit him, so he put his clothes back on after throwing his
underwear away. He was going commando, but it was better than wearing shorts he
had on for close to three days. They ate crackers and peanut butter from the
basement and drank more coffee.

Sarge got up,
walked in the house, and returned with an AR and a holstered Glock. “Mia, let’s
give you a weapons check before we leave.” The two walked around the side of
the house.

“Let’s check out
the basement and see what we want to bring along,” Stryker said. “Who will stay
up here and keep an eye on things?”

“Elle and I can
stay,” Jenna volunteered.

Stryker, Erin, and
Haley went into the house and down the stairs. There was faint light coming in
through the basement window, but Stryker grabbed a flashlight from a workbench and
inspected the first room. It was stacked high with unlabeled boxes and a mound
of bottled water sat against one wall.

 “This person
must have been a prepper or he had time to clean out a Walmart before he died,”
Stryker said. He moved into the next room, ducking his head to clear the door
header, and pointed the flashlight around. He heard the bark of the AR from
outside and the back of the house, then opened drawers on an old dresser. The
drawers were full of vegetable seeds, fruit tree seeds, and other fruit like
strawberries and melons. Several more shots rang out.

“See if you can
find a bag and load this stuff up,” he said, and moved further into the room.
He didn’t know a thing about gardening and never put one in at the ranch, but
decided that fresh vegetables and fruit would be welcome for their diets.

Haley went up the
stairs, returned with a garbage bag, and started filling it. Stryker found
three five-gallon gas cans and a foot-operated siphon pump and hose. He stuffed
the pump into the bag as well. In the far corner of the room stood a propane
camp stove and spare bottles. He handed them to Erin and asked her to take them
upstairs. She scampered up the stairs and returned shortly.

They returned to
the first room, satisfied they had covered the second one well enough to find
anything of value. The ladies began lifting boxes down and going through them.
They all contained dry and canned food.

“What should we
take?” Haley asked.

“Just enough to
fill the rear of the Jeep. The truck is already full. Take whatever you like
best, and we need a case of water per vehicle.” Stryker began sorting through
bags and cans and piled up beef stew, soup, canned chicken, and tuna. The
women’s pile was more canned fruit and vegetables, and a case of ramen noodles.
They took turns hauling newly packed boxes up the stairs and set them by the
front door.

“Shouldn’t we take
more?” Haley asked.

“You can find this
stuff all over the place.”

“There’s no food
shortages?”

“There’s no people
to eat the food. There’s probably enough food in stores, warehouse, and trucks
to feed generations of whoever is left, presuming it doesn’t spoil.” Her face
blanched as she realized the implication of what Stryker had said. “We need to
know what it’s like out there.”

“You heard my
speech to Mia. There’s a whole lot of nothing out there, and the occasional
threat. We can talk more about this later. Right now we need to get Mia on the
road and do the same.”

Sarge and Mia
rounded the corner as Stryker exited the house. He waited for them to get to
the porch, then looked at Sarge with a question mark in his eyes.

“She’s good to go,”
Sarge reported.

“We need to find a
car or truck for her.”

“No time like the
present. Mia, get the other AR and give it to Erin. You guys keep watch until
we return. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Should we take the
Jeep?” Stryker asked.

“Might as well.”
Stryker threw the jumper cables from the truck into the back seat and the two
men left with their M-4 barrels sticking out the windows. Sarge drove.

“Let’s head back
toward town and see what we can find.” The two men searched several streets in
a residential area close to the ranch and finally stumbled on a late model
Camaro, painted matte black.

“Looks like it
could do the job. That thing will disappear at night. You won’t be able to see
it from 100 meters,” Sarge said.

“It’s also fast so
if she hits trouble, her best shot is to run for it.” He paused for a moment.
“I like it.”

“Me too. I bet the
keys are hanging from a hook right inside the house.”

The two men
approached the front door and Sarge covered Stryker as he gently swung it open.
They entered with weapons at the low ready and cleared each room. The keys were
where Sarge predicted and they went back to the car, popped the hood, and
examined the engine. It was dusty, but there were no obvious oil leaks.

“Think it will
start?” Stryker asked.

“No.”

Stryker got into
the car, turned the key, and nothing happened. Sarge connected the jumper
cables and Stryker tried again. The starter groaned, and then the engine caught
and chugged for the first minute before settling into a throaty growl. “Maybe
we should keep this one,” he joked.

“Not my style.”

“Okay, follow me
back to the house.”

They pulled into
the driveway a few minutes later and stopped the vehicles in front of the porch.
Stryker put the camp stove and a skillet and pot into the trunk. Mia stood
beside him with a bag of spare clothing. “You know how to use the stove?” he
asked, handing her a disposable lighter. Sarge approached and stood to one
side, listening, after placing spare mags for the Glock and AR on the
passenger’s seat.

“Yes, I used to
camp with my parents.”

“How about the
siphon?”

“You stick the hose
into the gas tank and pump with your foot, right?”

“Yes.”

“Here are all the
maps you need,” he said, handing her the road atlas. “Sarge and I went over
them and we think the best route is the one we highlighted. We don’t know for
sure, but it looks like the best way, and it’s mostly freeway so you can go
fast. If you’re comfortable driving at high speeds, you’ll be a lot less likely
to be a good target; this baby can get you away from trouble fast. Try to avoid
trouble if you can, and just get away. No matter what you do, don’t stop for
anything unless you need gas, a potty break, or to eat and sleep. Park before
nightfall on some backroad, activate the car alarm, and sleep about 100 meters
from the car. You got all that?”

“Yes.” Stryker
could see she was having doubts. Her expression was one of concern and
hesitation.

“You can still come
with us,” he said quietly. “There’s no shame in doing the smart thing.”

“No, but thanks.”

“Sarge?”

“Never take your
pistol off, not even at night when you sleep, and never leave the car without
the AR.” She nodded. “You have a full tank of gas, and I checked the oil. The
battery is charged and working fine. You should be good.” She nodded again.

“I’ll load the
trunk with enough food and water for the trip,” Stryker said. He carried four
cases of water to the car and placed three in the truck and one in the rear seat.
He then loaded two large boxes of canned and dried food, a can opener, a coffee
pot and cup, and some napkins, paper plates, and forks.

The ladies
gathered, tears rolling down their cheeks, and embraced in a group hug. Sarge
and Stryker stood to the side and let them say their farewells. Mia came over
and kissed Sarge on the cheek. “Thank you.”

She moved to
Stryker and did the same after he leaned down so she could reach his cheek.
“Thank you, too.” She got into the car and started down the driveway.

“Good luck,”
Stryker whispered, and turned to finish loading the Jeep with the rest of the
supplies. He came out of the house in time to see the rear of the Camaro turn
out of the driveway and onto the road.

“I think we’re
loaded, Sarge,” Stryker said. “Who sits where?”

“I’ll take Erin in
the pickup and you take the rest in the Jeep. I know Erin won’t twist my ear
off and I am about out of patience with all the yacking. We need one M-4 per
vehicle, front seat passenger side, and you and I will have our pistols.”

“That works. You
want to take the same route?”