Joshua (Book 2): Traveler (10 page)

They spent the rest of that night making a plan then spent the entire next day practicing it on paper and in their minds. With one full day of training, Rob said they were “as ready as we’ll ever be.”

They got to bed early and were up long before dawn. McCain and his men started making their way west of the target; Alton with his men set out for their southeast position. Robert and Nicky, with James close behind, advanced straight toward the house from the south.

As the sun was rising, all teams were in position and waiting for 08:00 hours, exactly one hour after both nighttime guards went off duty. Robert and the boys crawled through the brush to the edge of the field; from there Nicky was on his own.

Rob tried to brace the boy, “Nicky, how you feeling?”

“I’m all right ... a little nervous though.”

“That’s normal, you’re going to do just fine. You remember the plan, and your part of it? Remember the last minute changes we made?”

“Yes ...”

“You ready to do it?”

“Yes ...”

“Okay, when I give you the signal, you start walking across this field like we talked about. You turn like you suddenly just saw the house and then you head right for it. Well, the rest, you know what to do. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll be coming up right behind you. Just remember, when the shooting starts, do your job quick and get out of the line of fire.”

“Okay ...”

“Ready?”

“Yes ...”

“Good luck.”

James wanted to encourage the boy too, “Good luck, Nicky.”

“Thanks ...”

They sat there a while longer, all of them counting the minutes, especially Alton who was convinced this was a bad idea. At last the time came and Rob, lying in the grass only feet from the boy, whistled a perfect imitation of a Bobwhite.

Nicky jumped up and went right to his work. He began to cross the field, his bag in hand, then suddenly turned when he “noticed” the old farmhouse in the distance.

It only took about five seconds for the sentry to spot him and begin blowing a whistle hanging from her neck. In less than a minute, every window of the house was filled with people and guns.

Wolf, Coyote, and Jackal were all in position, waiting for the boy to do his job. “This is Wolf, all teams stand by, as soon as Nicky sets them up we’ll knock ‘em down.”

Nicky approached the fence line, the sentry on the other side giving him a careful look. “Can you please help me? I’m all alone, my mom died in that town back there. Won’t you please help me?”

The guard scrutinized the child in front of her, with his dirty clothes, shoes and dinosaur backpack. “You’re all alone?”

“Yes, my mom got sick ... she died, in that town back there,” the boy pointing off in the general direction of Mendon and it looked like he was about to cry.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes ... I haven’t eaten in two days. Please help me.”

The woman yelled back to her friends inside without taking her eyes off the boy, “Can I let him in?”

After a moment came a single response, “You can let him in ... but check him first.”

“Hold your hands over your head and slowly turn around for me.”

The boy did just as he was told.

“All right, throw your pack over.”

The boy tried several times to throw it over the tall fence, but each attempt was worse than the one before. Finally he gave up with an exhausted sigh.

“It’s okay,” she said, as the woman removed the key and whistle from around her neck. She undid the stout lock and chain that was wrapped around the gate and she pushed it back to let the child inside.

Just as she let the boy in, he shifted his hand to the small of his back. From under his long shirttail he pulled out a pistol and shot the woman right through her eye.

Before she could hit the ground, the child was heading towards the house in flat out run. They started firing at him but the boy was too fast, weaving and jumping between gunshots.

Rob was on the radio again, “EVERYBODY GO! REMEMBER NICKY! WATCH YOUR LINE OF FIRE!”

One man each from Coyote and Jackal began firing on the house from their positions, everyone else ran towards the firefight while keeping their heads down.

Nicky crouched under one of the windows and unzipped his pack. He pulled out a white canister, opened a valve and threw it into the nearest window. He crawled with his pack to the next window in line. Two more times the boy did as before, tossing a container inside. Then he dropped flat on the ground, dragging a sandbag on top of him as he covered his face with a rag.

By now the group was right on them, still partially concealed in the tall grass. The current owners of the home were firing from inside with little success as a thick cloud of insecticide was impeding their eyesight. A single man burst from the front door the house. He was running for the sentry’s rifle but was gunned down twenty feet short of the goal.

From inside, the sound of coughing could be heard as the thick fumes completely obscured the building, both inside and out.

The team made it to the front and around both sides when those left alive in the house came running out. There was another short exchange of gunfire and then it was over, most of the former home’s owners lying dead or dying, strewn out in the yard.

James lay there in shock watching it all. Telling himself this was all a nightmare that couldn’t be real.

Robert called everyone up and they all quickly went to their assigned jobs. Most secured the site, checking to make sure both the living and dead were disarmed. Martinelli was busy tending to his own men’s injuries and most came out fine. There were a few minor cuts and scratches, although Cornwell slashed his arm on the fence as he dashed through the gate. Some alcohol and clean bandages were all it should take to set him right. Peavey’s injury was the most serious, as he took a bullet right through his leg. Martinelli quickly closed the wounds without anesthesia while Peavey lay face down on the ground screaming, his teeth clamped down on a knotted cloth shoved in his mouth.

Both James and Nicky tried to keep his mind occupied; they stood by holding his hands assuring him he would be all right.

Everyone gathered in the yard while D’Cruz stood guard over the enemy survivors. From out the front door came Alton, returning from a brief tour from inside the house. Even with his mouth covered it was obvious he was not a happy man.

“The house has been cleared. There are two bodies inside. One woman was shot in the chest here in the front room. The other one is what I thought, an elderly lady in this front bedroom. She probably couldn’t walk. I don’t know what killed her but she wasn’t hit by a bullet. Maybe the poison got her, or maybe she died of a heart attack. I don’t know ... guess it doesn’t matter now anyway.”

Robert glanced all around, fiercely proud of the work his men had done. In the background the only sound was that of the woman prisoner wailing aloud. “No, it doesn’t matter now. Martinelli! Come here!”

Martinelli came running from the other side of the yard, “Yes, sir.”

“Give me a report on the wounded.”

“Well, that man I was tending over there ...”

“Start with our wounded.”

“Yes, sir, the worst is Peavey. He took a bullet right through the calf muscle, in and out. There’s no bone damage though, but even so he won’t be walking for a while. I don’t know how long it will be before he’s one hundred percent again. Cornwell has a bad cut on his arm; I’ve stopped the bleeding but he might need some stitches. Otherwise he should be fine. A few others have some bumps and cuts, nothing serious. As for those two over there ...”

“They’re the only survivors?”

The woman’s hysterical weeping continued to fill all their ears.

“Yes, sir. The man was shot in the shoulder. He definitely has damage to the bone. I’ve got the bleeding under control but that’s about all I can do for him. He needs a surgeon.”

“What about the woman?”

“She’s got a head wound, maybe a concussion. I’ve wrapped it up. She must’ve fell when she ran from the house.”

“All right, you and D’Cruz get them out of here.”

“Sir?”

“March them south to the highway and let them go.”

“Like they are?”

“No, on your way down stop by our cart, give them three days of food and water.”

“Well ... sir ...”

“Well what?”

“What I meant was ... is if you want me to help them some more?”

“You’re not a surgeon, what more can you do for them?”

“I guess not much ...”

“Then do what I told you.”

After that dirty chore was done, Martinelli and D’Cruz returned for another one. While they were gone, the rest of the group retrieved their cart and other supplies and now there was a mass grave all of them had to work on. They dug a single deep hole fifty feet downwind of the house and began the work of stripping and dragging the dead to their final resting place. They toiled for hours in silence and once this last duty was done, they could relax for the night.

Despite his injury, Cornwell volunteered for cook duty and gladly prepared supper. As he was dishing out their victory celebration meal, the group all sat around the fire, quiet, except for Alton, who after all these hours still was not a happy man.

He watched Rob for several minutes, staring right into his eyes. Finally he had something to say, “So ... when did the plan change?”

This wasn’t an argument Robert wanted to have right then, or ever. “They changed at the last second.”

“Yeah, I noticed. I thought the plan was for Nicky to get through the gate and then throw the bug bombs through the windows, that’s all, and while they were occupied with him we would overrun them.”

“I decided it would be better if he took care of the guard as soon as the gate was opened. So she wouldn’t have a chance to stop him or fire at us. I thought there would be a much better chance of success that way.”

Alton had his answer but still wasn’t satisfied, “So at the last second, and without informing the rest of us ... you decided that instead of going with the operation we all planned together and trained for, that it would be better to send a ten-year-old out on an assassination mission.”

Anger could now be heard right below Robert’s amiable tone, “I said that I thought it would be better this way. I didn’t have the time to explain the changes, and it’s not required that I do; you knew everything necessary to do your job.”

McCain intervened before the anger could grow any more; he seemed one of the few in the group not bothered with the outcome today. “What are we arguing about here, guys? So it didn’t go off exactly as planned. We got what we wanted. No harm, no foul.”

Alton didn’t say another word but stood up, moved down, sitting right next to Nicky.

The boy was unconsciously wiping his gun with a rag, a Ruger “Hunter” 22/45 with a very short barrel. He sat rubbing the blued steel pistol, staring deeply into the fire.

Alton got close to the boy, “Nicky, how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m fine.” He continued to scrub the gun.

“Are you all right ... about today, I mean?”

“Yeah, I’m okay ...” His gaze affixed to the flames.

“If you want to talk about it ... ever, you can talk to me. I know what it’s like.”

“I’m okay. Rob said it had to be done. He said it was them or us. He said if I didn’t, that some of you might get killed ... and I couldn’t let anything bad happen to you guys, you’re the only family I’ve got.”

“Right ...” Alton stood up and refused to even acknowledge Robert as he walked right past him and went to make up to his bed for the night.

The rest of the group broke up after that, except for Rudd and McCain who both stayed up with the whisky celebrating for them all.

They slept out under the stars that night; Alton said they should let the industrial poison air out of the house for a day or two.

James lay in his bed trying to sleep, rolling around for hours but unable to unwind. At last he nudged Rob who was heavily sleeping right next to him. After several tries, he woke and James had a question that couldn’t wait till morning, one he whispered as quietly as he could, “Rob, could I just leave?”

“What?” Robert was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What would happen if I left?”

“You mean run out on us?”

“Yes ... I don’t belong here. I want to be on my own again. I made a mistake.”

“What would happen if you ran?”

“Yes ...”

“James ... some of these guys, well, you can probably tell by now, they’re not nice guys. And they take that oath we give very seriously. If you ran out they would come looking for you. I couldn’t stop them.”

“They’d ... they’d kill me?”

“Yes ... probably, but ...”

“But what?”

“But not before they violated you a dozen different ways.” Robert rolled over and went right back to sleep, apparently without a care in the world.

James sat up the rest of the night, wondering if there was any way to get out of this family with his life.

Chapter Five

With nearly a month in their new home, everyone settled in. Their supplies, both what they brought with them and those captured, were overflowing. For the first time since this nightmare world began, they actually had too much, more than they could carry. It was decided between them all, but strongly suggested by Rob, that they should dig in before bad weather arrived. It wasn’t too hard a decision for anyone, fall was slowly turning into winter; outside in the world the cruelest time of the year was nearly here. It was agreed between them they should stay put until next spring, but to move on while they had a least a month’s worth of provisions. So they would have an edge when they started hunting again.

Even though the hard labor of eating every day was gone, there was still plenty of work to be done. There was sentry duty and regular maintenance on the guns and equipment, cooking, cleaning, and laundry to do. There were also improvements to be made on the home’s security, and gallons of water to be boiled each and every day.

Peavey was mending well, he could walk now but with a pronounced limp, carrying a heavy load and moving quickly was still somewhere in the future.