America's Sunset: A Post Apocalyptic Fight for Survival (15 page)

Seconds passed. Maggie could hear the wooden porch creaking. “Dawson?”

“I’m here,” he answered. Maggie could hear the tension in his voice now.

Minutes passed. No shots were fired. Jake finally came back with three rifles.

“What the hell took you so long?” Maggie asked.

“I blanked for a minute, and couldn’t remember the vault combination. It took me a couple of tries to get it.”

Maggie shook her head. “Dawson, you OK still?”

“Yes,” he called back. “I can’t wait for Jake. I’ve got to get to the kids.”

“I’m here, Dawson,” Jake said. “I’ve got rifles.”

Jake handed one rifle and a box of ammo to Maggie. Staying low, he moved across the floor. Reaching up, he opened the door just enough to slide a rifle and ammo across the porch to Dawson.

“I’m going upstairs to the back window,” Jake said. “Don’t either of you do anything till you hear me call. Dawson, I’ve got a high-powered scope on my rifle. I’ll get a sight on whoever is out there.”

Jake commando-crawled out of the kitchen with the rifle across his back, while Maggie and Dawson loaded theirs. Another shot rang out, and Maggie dropped her box of ammo, sending bullets bouncing across the floor. This time it wasn’t the shooter from the woods. The shots were close, from the back porch. Dawson fired three times into the woods before dropping behind cover, then scrambled across the porch to get another angle. He popped back up and fired three more shots. Jake was just at the top of the stairs when he heard Dawson’s shots.

“Maggie!” Jake called out. “Maggie, are you OK?”

Maggie froze for seconds as she watched the bullets bounce across the floor in slow motion, rolling to a stop against the floorboards. For a moment, she imagined a belt-fed machine gun firing with hundreds of spent casings bouncing around her kitchen floor. She kept thinking that she needed to pick up all the bullets before the kids came home and hurt themselves.

Jake came flying down the stairs two at a time and startled Maggie from her daze. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he asked, “Who fired those shots, Maggie? You?”

Then, Jake noticed the bullets scattered around the floor and realized Maggie’s rifle hadn’t even been loaded yet.

Maggie calmly looked at him and said, “No, they came from outside. I think it was Dawson. Are the kids OK?”

A quick visual check revealed Maggie wasn’t physically hurt; no blood. He called to Dawson but there was no answer. He tried again, still no answer. Staying low, he crawled to the door, propped it open, but saw no one. He looked back at Maggie, who was watching him intently.

“He’s gone, I think. I’m going out.”

Maggie clenched her jaw, and whispered, “Be careful.”

Jake nodded in agreement, then open the door just enough to squeeze out. Once on the porch, he scrambled quickly to cover behind the railing. Suddenly he realized that in the panic, he hadn’t loaded his weapon. He quickly pumped a dozen rounds into the chamber. He raised the scope to his eye and slowly scanned the woods for the shooter. He moved to the area around the cottage and some shrubbery that could provide cover. Nothing moved except for a few finches and a squirrel.

“Maggie, did you see what happened to Dawson?” No answer. “Maggie? Which way did Dawson go?”

Suddenly hurried steps grew louder on the gravel drive at the side of the house. Jake repositioned himself behind the barbecue and leveled the rifle in the direction of the approaching steps. Maggie started to answer, but Jake shushed her, pointing nervously to the side of the house. Dawson came running breathlessly around the corner.

“Shit, Dawson! Get up here. You’re right in the open,” Jake said.

“No, they’re gone. I chased them off when I started firing back.” Dawson bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “They’re either scared of being shot at or lying somewhere bleeding.” He looked up, his face ash colored as Maggie came onto the porch.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking around. “Where are the kids? Did you go up to the house?”

“I don’t know. I looked all over the house,” Dawson said, still gasping for air. “I thought they were just hiding at first, but I called out to them, and no one answered. I ran all around the house and nothing.” He dropped to his knees, and choked out the next few words. “The front door was kicked in. Veronica’s Bear was in the front hallway. Just lying there. She wouldn’t have left it behind willingly.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, looking up at Jake and Maggie. “They’re gone. Someone took them.”

Chapter 28 ~ Taken

Patience was a skill that Ahmed had practiced for years. Still, the feeling of anticipation was inescapable. Knowing he was so close to achieving a major ambition fueled his patience. He aimed the rifle at the white wall of the garage and checked the focus on the rifle’s scope. Confident it was precise, he laid himself prone and positioned his rifle on its support. He could see the back porch from this position with his naked eye, but he wanted a clean shot. Knowing his target was a trained military soldier meant that second chances would be difficult to come by. One clean shot to the head was all he needed.

The back door opened. Ahmed looked through the scope, resting his finger on the trigger. He took long, steady breaths slowly in and out. The young girl came out first. Ahmed moved the crosshairs to her forehead.
Breathe in and breathe out,
Ahmed thought to himself. He tracked her as she moved down the steps. Then, the boy came out. Ahmed raised the scope and tracked the boy with the crosshairs till he too was down the steps, around the house and out of view.
Dawson should be coming out soon,
he thought.
He’d want to stay close to the children during these times.

Ahmed waited, and waited. He lost track of the seconds and minutes.
Why so long?
Ahmed wondered. Then, finally the door swung open, and Ahmed reset his finger ever so lightly on the trigger. It was Dawson this time. Ahmed waited till the door swung shut out of his line of sight. Letting out a deep breath, he increased pressure on the trigger. Then, it flew. The small finch resting on the branch below was startled by a squirrel. The finch flew across Ahmed’s rifle scope a split second before his trigger finger reached full pressure. He twitched and the rifle shifted ever so subtly to the left.

Ahmed cursed under his breath. He’d had a clean shot at Dawson, but missed by inches, giving the infidel an opportunity to hide. Ahmed knew he’d blown his moment of surprise. He’d have to do better. All was not lost yet. The advantage was still his. Dawson was unarmed and behind minimal cover. He’d have to move eventually, and then he’d take the killing shot.

Harish waited in the agreed upon observation point. He could see both the back porch where Dawson was pinned down, and the blind in the woods where Ahmed was positioned. His orders from Ahmed were specific. He was the backup. Ahmed would be the one to take the kill shot first. Ahmed was the better marksman, but he knew that he would give his position away once the attack commenced. If something went wrong, and Ahmed couldn’t kill Dawson, then Harish would have to step in.

Ahmed realized that shooting cans in the desert was much easier than hitting a moving target from a wooded area. In the desert, the cans didn’t duck for cover, and there were certainly no damned birds flying in front of his rifle.

Ahmed’s patience was fraying, and his second shot was rushed, shattering the window. Nowhere near Dawson. Ahmed’s mind raced. What options did he have left? He radioed Harish.

“You need to return to the vehicle and prepare to retreat. Do not leave until I arrive or you hear from me. The mission is still live, but we need an escape route.”

“Understood,” Harish answered. “I’m moving now.”

“One more thing,” Ahmed added. “You need to find where the children went.”

“The children?” Harish’s voice sounded concerned.

“Yes, the children. Check the other house. That’s probably where they are.”

Ahmed waited and watched now. Dawson was still pinned. All he needed was a small opening. The backup plan was in motion, but for now he had to make sure that Dawson and the other adults stayed where they were.
Be patient and wait this out
, he thought to himself.
Do not rush another shot
. The door started to open again and closed. No one came into view. Ahmed scanned back and forth along the porch, looking for movement. He trained the rifle scope on the broken kitchen window. It was darker inside the house, and hard to see anyone moving. Right about now, Ahmed would take any human target he could, even if it wasn’t Dawson.
If one could be hurt
, he thought,
then the others would panic and make mistakes.

Ahmed heard the three shots fire before he could refocus on the porch. One sounded like it ripped through the branches just above his head. Dawson moved too fast across the porch for Ahmed to get a shot off, and then three more shots rang out. The pain was excruciating. He instinctively let go of the rifle and grabbed his arm. Panicked thoughts ran through Ahmed’s mind.
My adversary is a luckier marksman than I.

Ahmed spoke once more through the radio. “Harish, my cover is revealed. I’m on my way to you. Prepare to retreat.”

* * *

“What the hell were you thinking? Those are kids! What are we going to do with a couple of kids in tow?” Harish said as he stared into the back of the van. “We were supposed to blow up a damn airport. Remember? Some stupid little backwater airport. It was going to be easy. Simple … remember? There’s no real police, there’s no homeland security here. You said this would be how we strike terror into the hearts of the heathen infidel. Now what? Now what are we going to do?”

Ahmed didn’t say anything. His arm was throbbing from the wound, and he was doing everything possible to keep his wits about him. He didn’t have time for his hysterical brother. Keeping the van on the road and ahead of whomever was going to be chasing them was his primary concern. It wouldn't take long to realize the children had been taken.

Things hadn’t gone well. No one could have anticipated the bad luck they’d experienced. That damn bird. He couldn't leave empty handed. The infidel still lived, bat at least he could strike fear into their hearts. Surely that would please the leaders. Surely that would terrorize the sinners. Ahmed’s decisive action had granted them the opportunity to have their revenge on Dawson Chambers. They had his children now, so he would be desperate. He’d come looking for them and make mistakes. Ahmed and Harish were no longer the hunters, they were now the prey. But a clever prey they would be.

“Are you listening to me, Ahmed? What are we going to do now? We have his kids. Someone will have seen us. We stand out in this community, we’re strangers here. We’ll have to go into hiding. Do you understand? We have nowhere to go. We’re screwed.”

Ahmed angrily flung his wounded arm out and slapped his brother across the face. Ahmed was sure the throbbing in his arm was worse than the sting Harish felt.

“Do not ever talk to me like that. Do you understand?” Harish held his hand over his stinging cheek and stared, confused, at his brother. “We are the chosen ones. We are never
screwed
. As long as we believe, we will prevail. Where is your faith?” Harish remained silent, and Ahmed raised his hand to strike once more.

Harish pulled back, and said, “I do believe. I’ve always believed. You don’t need to beat it into me. I’m not a dog.”

Ahmed stayed his hand. “Your words matter. Choose them wisely. Your soul is a delicate thing, and can be swayed by the words you speak. Remember who we are. We are the chosen. We must strengthen our faith, never tear it down.”

“I know,” Harish answered. “I haven’t lost my faith.” He paused for a moment, looking into the back of the van, where Veronica and Chase were huddled and shaking. “These are children that we now have to deal with.” Harish hesitated for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Do you remember how you felt when we were children, almost as young as these two are, and we were separated from our father?”

Ahmed didn’t answer, he just kept driving and looking into the rear-view mirror.

Harish continued. “I only remember a feeling, but you told me. You remembered. You said you still remember after all these years what it’s like to be taken away from our father. You remember those first few days. You said it was like a piece of your body was missing. You knew right away we weren’t going to see him again, and you said there was a big hole inside of you. Me … I don’t remember much of it, except for the dreams. I had dreams of our father for years. I still do. I couldn’t tell you what he looked like, but I know he’s always there in my dreams. I can feel him near me.”

Ahmed looked up in the rear-view mirror one more time, but this time he tilted the mirror down to see the kids in the back of the van.

Harish continued speaking. “We’re doing the same thing to them right now. It would have been better if they’d just died. Now they’re going to have holes inside of them, and nightmares to haunt them the rest of their lives.”

“It won’t be the same,” Ahmed said as he readjusted the mirror to reflect the road behind them. “They won't be alive for that much longer.”

* * *

The black transport following Ahmed moved incredibly fast for its size. Most vehicles built for hauling packages or tools don’t have to be anywhere in a hurry. There were no manufacturer markings on it, and all the windows were tinted black. There still weren’t many vehicles on the road yet. The CME had taken most out of commission.

“Are you sure you want to drive? I don’t mind doing it. I’m used to driving in the big city.”

Ahmed look incredulously at Harish. “My driving is what you’re worried about at a time like this?”

“I didn’t say that I was worried about your driving. I just said that I could do the driving if you wanted me to. There’s a difference.”

Ahmed pushed the accelerator further. It was obvious the discussion was getting on his nerves. The speedometer read over seventy-five mph now.

“We failed to carry out our mission. Do you have any idea how significant that is?” Harish didn’t answer. “We failed, and now we have hostages to deal with. Do you hear me, Harish? Do you understand?”

Harish closed his eyes. “Yes, of course I understand. I just thought that if I drove, maybe you would have a chance to think better. Maybe figure out what it is we’re going to do next. You’re better at that than I am. Your arm is bleeding pretty bad.” He motioned to Ahmed’s red-soaked sleeve.

“It doesn’t hurt. I can barely feel the wound. Don’t worry about it. We’ll fix it when we get back.”

“It’s the adrenaline blocking the pain. That’s what I’m worried about. You should at least wrap it. Why don’t you pull over and let me drive. The last thing we need is you passing out from loss of blood while we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Harish felt for a brief moment that maybe he was getting through to Ahmed. It was an odd sensation.

“We don’t want to make matters worse, Ahmed. If we can get back to the house in one piece, at least we’ll have some options. Lying in a ditch we have none. The Imam will appreciate that we made the best out of a bad situation.”

Ahmed nodded in agreement, but just as he eased his foot off the gas, the black transport rammed them from behind. They both lurched forward as their hostages banged into their seat backs. Ahmed lost his grip on the wheel, and their vehicle veered towards the ditch.