Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (58 page)

“You can say that, Sergeant Major. I shot this big bastard. He was about to cut down Sergeant Collins when I rounded the corner up there with Hester. Yup,” he said, as he slapped the man’s chest like a
trophy elk, “I shot this meat dead. He fell with one shot, got him right in the head. Hester got the other one, and Sergeant Collins the rest,” said Fisher, as he pointed to the dead highwaymen lying face up in the medium. Pete noticed that someone had taken ash and dumped it on their dead, upturned faces. He thought it was a fitting signature to their end. “Do you think you can help me drag this meat over there to join his friends?” asked Fisher.

Pete helped Fisher drag the big highwayman to the medium, and asked, “What’d you do with the men I cut down from the ropes?” asked Pete.

“They’re over there,” said Fisher, “under that tarp, plus three others. When Sergeant Collins came down the embankment the bastards were shooting wildly. I think they thought someone in the crowd was shooting at them. They killed three civilians and wounded six. Two are pretty serious and I don’t think they’re going to make it. There’s a paramedic over there working on ‘em now.”

“A paramedic? Here?” asked Pete, unable to contain his surprise.

“Yeah, she came forward out of the crowd right after the shooting stopped and offered to help,” said Fisher, as he pointed to a small group of people who were gathered near the leading edge of the embankment off-ramp.

“Thanks Fish. I want to go check with her. Can you keep things moving down here . . . try to get these people on the access road so we can get the cars moving down here?”

“Sure thing, Sergeant Major,” replied Fisher, and he immediately returned to the freeway and began waving his hand to move the crowd along. “Nothing to see here, folks! Keep moving, please! Nothing to see here!”

Pete made his way to the crowd around the paramedic and elbowed his way through. He looked down to see a young black woman, up to her elbows in blood, working frantically to save a young, white man’s life. “Is there anything I can do to help?” asked Pete.

“Yes, if you could get these people to step back . . . that would really help.”

“All right, you heard the lady,” yelled Pete. “Back it up! Now.” The crowd seemed to notice, for the first time, that Pete was armed and they responded obediently. Pete didn’t care if he sounded short or inpatient, he never respected rubberneckers, not in cars or on the ground. “You,” he said, pointing his finger to a teenage boy. “Run up to the top of the overpass and tell Hester I need more medical supplies. Tell him I need every first aid kit he can find, and to send it down here ASAP.”

The kid turned to look at an adult male standing behind him. “Can I help?” asked the man.

“You the boy’s father?” asked Pete.

“I am,” said the man. He looked confident and not the least bit intimidated by Pete’s bearing or equipment.

“Then yes, sir, I would greatly appreciate your help. Thank you,” said Pete. With that, the man and his son left to climb the embankment in search of Hester and medical supplies.

“Soldier?” Pete turned back to the paramedic. She stared intently, calmly, into Pete’s eyes, and he could only nod in acceptance of her unspoken dilemma. “I could use a couple extra sets of hands. Can you find me a volunteer, someone who’s got medical experience, or isn’t afraid of blood?” she said, as she wiped sweat from her forehead with her shirt sleeve.

Pete began to study the crowd. Everyone present heard her request for assistance, but when the question was raised many dispersed. Pete understood their reluctance, but quickly offered an incentive. “I have food and water for anyone who helps this woman until such time that she releases you!” said Pete loudly. Immediately, two sixty-something women came forward and offered their assistance. But for incentive, they asked Pete to help them find transportation south. Pete thanked them, told them he would do everything he could to get them south, and then jogged up the embankment to help collect medical supplies.

Pete met the man and his son as he reached the top. He held a box filled with various first aid items, water, and towels. “This is all we could find,” he said as he watched Pete rummage through the box.

Pete was disappointed, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to save the injured man, but he said, “Thanks again for your help. Please take the box to the paramedic,” and gestured with a hand down the embankment. “And please hurry,” finished Pete. He walked up to Hester, each step becoming more tiring and difficult. A deep and growing feeling of fatigue entered his body, and it seemed to override his will to take another step.

He stopped and watched Hester move around. The kid looked like he was ready to run a marathon, and Pete wondered where he got his energy. A feeling of light-headedness overcame Pete, and he leaned forward to rest his hand on his knees. He felt like he could sleep for a week. Hester ran over and asked, “Are you OK Sergeant Major? You look a little pale.”

Pete did feel strange. “I think I need some water,” he managed to say, as a feeling that was something like an elevator rising up his entire body overcame him. The feeling moved quickly, from his feet to his head, and when it reached his chest he put a hand on the guardrail to steady himself. When the elevator reached the top floor, Pete remembered nothing more and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Someone was smacking him on the face with a spatula. “Pete! Pete! Wake up.” It was a woman’s voice, familiar, but at the same time a little strange, foreign even. “Peter? He’s coming around. Back up, girls, and give him some room,” said Bonnie. Pete opened his eyes and saw Bonnie kneeling over him. She had a hand, not a spatula, resting gently on his cheek. Three other women were standing above him, looking down on him with interest and compassion. He didn’t recognize any of them, but as his focus gathered he recognized one; Lana, the strong defiant woman from the horse trailer.

Pete tried to sit up but Bonnie pushed him back down with gentle hands. “Not yet, Pete. Lay still for a minute. Here, drink some water.”

Pete drank the offered water and coughed. “I can’t drink laying down, Bon. Can I sit up, please?” Bonnie helped him sit up and then sat next to him. The other women walked away, apparently satisfied that Pete was awake and in good hands. He looked around and asked, “How’d I end up on this side of the overpass?”

“Hester and Collins carried you here . . . they said you were heavier than you looked,” replied Bonnie. She reached out and rubbed ash from Pete’s face. “You’re a mess Pete. You should see yourself.”

Pete looked around, but more thoroughly and intently than before, “Where’d the guys go? Where’s Collins, Hester and Fisher?” asked Pete.

“Collins said they had to leave, and he left with a message. He said not to worry about the wounded, they took them to Waco, along with the two old ladies and the paramedic,” answered Bonnie. “Oh, and your equipment is over there,” said Bonnie, pointing.

Pete followed her finger and saw his rifle bag and tactical pack. And laying across the top of the rifle bag was the recently captured RRA LAR-8, with eight magazines, and what looked to be about twenty boxes of .308 ammo. The black and yellow Taser sat atop the pile, and it looked a little like a Christmas bow. Pete laughed and asked, “Where’d all the extra stuff come from, the magazines and ammo?” He drank from his water bottle and looked at Bonnie. She was smudged with ash, but it made her look rugged, more resilient and hardy.

“I don’t know, but Collins said you’d be happy to have it,” said Bonnie, and she moved a strand of dark hair from her face.

“Dang, Bonnie. I really wanted to say goodbye to those boys. They were special. I could do a lot of good with those three men,” said Pete, as he stood and offered Bonnie a hand up.

Bonnie accepted his hand and said, “Well, they sure sang your praises. And I think they knew you’d try to convince them to stick around. But Collins said they had their military commitment to attend to. He also said . . . and I swear he was getting choked up over this . . .
he said, ““Tell the Sergeant Major that we never worked with a finer battlefield commander,” “or something like that.”

Pete nodded and asked, “How long was I out?”

“About an hour. I was worried about you, but Collins said you were exhausted and dehydrated, and to let you rest, but not too long. He said an hour was more than enough time to charge your batteries,” Bonnie said with finger quotes to the word batteries. “By the way, is Collins a Medic too? He sure seemed to know a lot about how to care for you and those wounded folks.”

“I don’t know, Bonnie,” replied Pete. “Can you stop talking for a sec and let me think?” He was trying to piece together the missing block of time, but stopped when he realized he wounded her with his words. “I’m sorry, Bon. I’m just upset that I passed out . . . that I didn’t get to finish what I started, and say goodbye to the men. That never happened to me before, and if I didn’t know better I’d say someone knocked me out.” Pete hugged Bonnie and asked, “Did they tell you what happened here?”

“Yeah, they gave me the whole story, or at least their version of it, but I’d like to hear it from you as well,” replied Bonnie.

“What about the women? Are they OK?” asked Pete.

“Yes. And they’re another group that’s singing your praises. I think I’ll call you Saint Peter. Oops, can’t do that, that title is already taken.”

“Very funny, Bon. Seriously, are they OK?”

“Yes, Pete, they’re fine. They’re taking the truck, the one that was pulling the horse trailer. The Soldiers helped them load it up with supplies, and then pointed them in the right direction. I think Lana is taking them to her father’s ranch near Rusk, it’s a town south of Tyler. It’s due east of here, or so I’m told,” said Bonnie.

“Then I guess our work here is done,” said Pete. “Are you ready to hit the road again?”

“I sure am. I want to go somewhere where the people don’t know your name,” said Bonnie, with a smile.

After Pete finished loading his equipment in his truck, he took a moment to walk the length of the overpass. It was satisfying to see all
the good they had accomplished in such a short amount of time. The traffic was moving on the interstate once again, and all the people were safely walking along the frontage roads. A few groups walked north, but a majority of the people continued moving south, in a seemingly endless stream of refugees.

No one seemed to notice Pete as he stood at the end of the overpass, watching them as they passed by. He marveled at their unawareness of the horrible scene that existed around them only hours before. Pete looked, but couldn’t see any signs of blood. The ash, it seemed, was good for something after all.

All the slain highwaymen had been moved to the center of the freeway and stacked in a pile. Pete hoped coyotes would feast on the men’s remains, but even that was a better end than they deserved. Pete felt they should be burnt, and their ashes allowed to mix with those that fell from the sky, but he wasn’t about to waste his fuel on them. He looked for, but didn’t find, the remains of the good people who had been hung from the overpass. At least they weren’t lying next to the dead highwaymen. He also saw that the two yellow panel trucks were gone, but he didn’t care. The operation was a complete success. It not only ended a despicable attempt to control and dehumanize helpless people by removing a wanton source of evil, but it helped many times that number of good people.

Pete returned to the truck and popped the hood. He quickly cleaned the air filter, and was wiping his hands on a rag when he saw Bonnie approach with Lana, and the other two ladies from the horse-trailer. Bonnie introduced the two women, and they hugged Pete in turn, and thanked him through their tears before stepping away. Lana lingered near Pete the longest. She put her hand to Pete’s face and said, “You’re a very special man, Pete. I know God sent you to help us, and that’s no small thing. To me that makes you an angel. Farewell and a safe journey. I hope we meet again.” Pete was quiet, speechless, and for some reason sad to see them leave.

Pete and Bonnie stood together as they watched the three women drive away in the captured pickup. It was free of the desecrated horse trailer, and loaded with enough food and supplies to get the women to their destination. They were also armed with two pistols, two captured SKS rifles, and plenty of ammo. Pete was pleased to learn that Fisher taught the ladies how to use the captured weapons. He didn’t think the women would fall victim to bad men again, at least not as easily as before. Having weapons clearly wasn’t a guarantee of survival, but they sure helped.

Pete knew that being a man wasn’t a guarantee of survival either, for it was only men who were hung from the overpass. Violence clearly didn’t discriminate, but he was glad this chapter was closed, at least for the time being. The ladies waved from the truck as it pulled away, and Pete and Bonnie waved back. They watched the truck move away until they could no longer see it, and then wordlessly climbed into their own truck to resume their journey.