The McClane Apocalypse Book Five (65 page)

They finally come to a clearing where a
bonfire was lit earlier in the evening and has died down quite a
bit. Cory catches the movement of shadows backlit on a
cream-colored canvas teepee across the way and decides to pursue.
Audibles are being called through their headsets, but he’s in
pursuit of the shadow man. A woman’s cry of distress comes from the
aisle where the man has gone. Annie touches his arm, letting him
know that she’ll flank.

He gives her a minute to get to the
other end of the row before stalking the shadow. She isn’t wearing
night-vision gear, either, so the darkness makes moving fast more
difficult. After a moment, Cory finds him. The man is holding a
serrated dagger to a woman’s neck and dragging her as he goes. She
is begging for her life. She is also barefoot and scantily clothed.
He
is guessing
that this is
the
john
, and she is not a
willing accomplice in his escape plan.

“Hey!” Cory shouts, causing the man to spin
toward him.

“Get back!” he screams in a rage and terror.
“I’ll cut this bitch. Get back from me. I’m leaving, and you aren’t
stopping me.”

“Ok, ok, calm down, man,” Cory says, lowering
his rifle. “I’m not gonna stop you.”

“I am,” Annie says from behind the man where
she has crept up on him.

She fires
a
round
to the back of the man’s skull with her handgun.
Cory is glad she’s a good shot because he could’ve been hit if she
missed. The perp lands with a thud on the cold, damp ground. The
woman screams. Then she runs toward Cory and throws herself around
his middle, hugging tightly.

“Get away, woman,” Cory orders harshly and
gives her a shove. “Hide. Go now! Don’t come out till you hear an
all-clear call.”

The woman sprints away sobbing and
wearing a splattering of the john’s blood on the side of her face.
The rage Cory felt earlier about Samantha being
kidnapped
is replaced with an even deeper anger at
seeing this terrified, half naked woman running barefoot for
shelter. It is cold tonight. He wonders if any of the women even
have winter clothing. Her face was gaunt, bruises marred different
parts of her body, and she was filthy.

Annie indicates they should head to
their direct left down another aisle of shacks this time. She holds
her small flashlight while Cory kicks open the first door, finds it
empty and moves to the next. There isn’t much to the shacks- no
running water, just single cots with dirty, musty bedding. The
third
hovel
proves fruitful. They
find a man cowering with his pants around his ankles and a woman
cowering with equal fear under the bed holding her hands over her
ears to block out the noise of the battle. Cory shoots him
twice
in
the chest and orders the
woman to run and find the others with whom she can hide.

“Got a runner,” Dave says into their
headsets. “He’s heading east. Take that fucker out from the eagle’s
nest.”

“Roger,” Simon says calmly.

A moment later, his friend’s rifle rings out
loud and true. He doesn’t often miss. Cory is quite sure the runner
is now a daisy pusher. He also hears the occasional shot coming
from the far eastern point of the camp near the river. He knows
Dave’s men who set the explosives are taking out escapees back
there.

“Much obliged,” Dave jokes over their
headsets. Minus the unrestrained use of foul language, the Mechanic
is a lot like John. He has a casual calmness about him and a deadly
vacancy in his eyes when the battle was about to start. He’ll sleep
easy tonight, no doubt.

Shots pop off loudly throughout the
expansive camp. Cory hadn’t realized it would be so widespread on
the park grounds. This would’ve been a green spot for the city, a
space set aside for picnics, family reunions, city events and the
like. There are cars and motorcycles, some that even seem to be in
good working order, scattered around. Others have vinery and weeds
growing out of them, but some appear useable. Multiple clothing
lines are set up, most of which have articles hanging on them to
dry. It i
s hard to tell
if anyone
lurks on the other side of the
clothing
which lends an eerie feeling to an already dangerous
scene.

He and Annie take out two more assholes
before connecting with the rest of Dave’s group. He orders him,
Annie and another guy named Skeeter to head west to work the next
section. There are plenty more guards that took off to likely hide,
and probably dozens more
johns
cowering somewhere. This is going to be an extensive, long
search.

“Professor to Stalker,” Simon calls through
his earpiece.

“Go ahead,” Cory answers into his throat mic
as he and his group walk carefully down the next aisle, which is
closest to the river and farthest from the entrance. It’s also
darker.

“F
our dudes
went
that way before I could get them,” Simon warns.
“I think there were more over there, too. I’ll watch your six. I’m
in position.”
“Got it,” Cory acknowledges. “
Head
count
change. My group now has three.”

They are used to working together, so
it makes an op flow more smoothly than working with complete
strangers like Dave’s group. Although he has to admit, working with
Annie has been
very
easy so far.
She’s a tough nut. All of Dave’s guys are
trustworthy
and reliable.

They find the first guard
easily
enough because he recklessly
barks off
a round
as he runs
straight toward them. Skeeter takes him out. Cory confirms it with
a second round from his rifle as he steps over the body. The rest
are hiding well, too well. It’s a good thing he has a flashlight
because there aren’t any torches or campfires on this side of the
camp. Skeeter is the only one of the three of them that has on his
night-vision goggles.

Cory sees what looks to be the remainder of a
garden to their right. The soft shriek of a startled woman comes
from somewhere about halfway down that row. They jog as quickly as
they can toward the sound. Annie shoots at a man to her right. She
misses and the creep escapes. Cory raises his chin to indicate that
she and Skeeter should pursue and that he’ll keep going straight.
He isn’t worried about Simon shooting him. His friend already knows
he’s working this area. He was on his own for eight months. Another
twenty minutes won’t hurt.

He slinks closer to the origin of the
sounds of the woman in distress. As he closes in, Cory can hear her
whimpering inside one of the shacks. He slowly pushes open the
door. A dark-haired girl that can’t be more than fifteen years old
is squatted in a shadowy corner. Cory motions for her to come
toward him. The girl shakes her head and points to the floor.
Perhaps she is afraid of him because of how he’s aiming the
flashlight at her. He lowers it, but she won’t come to him. She
points down again. Cory squats and looks under the shabby
cot
. Nobody hides there. He motions for
her again. She just
points
to the
floor three times with more urgency. Cory squints his eyes
thoughtfully as he considers the salvaged wood of the floorboards.
That’s when he peers more closely and sees the
two-inch
circumference round ring that is bolted
into the floorboards. It’s concealing a trapdoor. He looks at the
girl again who nods. Cory motions for her to come with him. This
time she does so, tiptoeing lightly and trembling.

“Run,” he whispers when she’s stepped out of
the shack. He pulls her a few feet away to speak. “Run to your
friends or the other women. Be careful. We’re here to help you but
stay out of our way. Professor, make sure this kid makes it out
safe.”

“Roger,” Simon answers.

Cory doesn’t want to see her killed by
some creep or accidentally shot by one of them. Simon can
guard
her from
his nest until she
makes it to the other women or out of the camp. She nods and takes
off at a pace even faster than he would’ve given her credit for,
especially since she is also barefoot. Keeping the women barefoot
would’ve been beneficial to the dumbasses running this place. It
would be difficult as hell to escape with no shoes, not through a
city littered with broken glass, rusty
metal,
and sharp debris. Bloody footprints also
would’ve made it easier for the creeps to track them. He
understands this was by design. At least now he knows what they can
do with all those shoes they took from the sporting goods
store.

Cory steps quietly up into the shack
and
fires
three rounds through
the floor. A man screams, letting Cory know that he’s hit his
target. He yanks the steel ring, lifting the wooden trapdoor to
reveal a dead man
splayed
on the
dirt floor below him.

He immediately calls it in, “Be aware, the
shacks have false floors. Check the trapdoors for groundhogs.”

“Roger that. Dig ‘em out, boys!” Dave orders
his men. “Dig those fuckers out. No prisoners. No mercy.”

Cory continues down the aisle, mindful that
Annie and Skeeter haven’t yet returned. They must be chasing down
that creep.

“Move to your right a few feet, Stalker,”
Simon compels him.

Cory complies, jumping to his right against
the wall of another shack. A thumping sound around the corner is
followed by the report of Simon’s rifle. Shouting somewhere else in
the camp crescendos to deafening levels.

“You’re clear,” Simon tells him in his
ear.

“Thanks, Professor,” Cory says to his friend
as he traverses the aisle again.

By the time he comes to the end, he’s killed
two more men, and Simon has taken out another. Simon tells him in
his earpiece that the fighting has ended and to meet him at the
gate. “All clear” calls come across his headset from the two-man
teams. Cory sends out one of his own after re-checking the first
aisle where a few shacks were located. He wants those trapdoor
areas double checked. He doesn’t find anyone. Dave’s men have
probably already covered this area. He crosses back toward the
entrance of the encampment again. A few of the men have been taken
captive and are kneeling. They are pleading their cases but not
very successfully.

He finds Simon and the other sniper, and they
wait as women come forward and Dave directs the chaos. A few of the
women are very pregnant. Everyone raises their night-vision gear.
Some of the soldiers light more torches and lamps, and others throw
extra logs on the bonfire to help illuminate the area. A few of the
younger women standing with the group of older women are as young
as the girls on the farm, as young as Em was when she died. It
makes Cory’s stomach sick as he looks around at them dressed
scantily as if they’ve been rescued in the middle of being violated
yet again. Only two or three have shoes. The ticking in his brain
has slowed again, but Cory still feels that unfettered rage.

Skeeter comes forward helping a hobbling
Annie along. She’s been shot it would seem. Cory rushes to her and
lifts her gently into his arms.

“Bastard got me,” she
snaps angrily
as she clenches her
side.

“Well, I took care of him for
ya,’
little sister,” Skeeter says with
affection as he pushes hair back from her forehead. He obviously
has tender feelings for her. Cory isn’t sure she feels the
same.

“Simon!” Cory calls to his best friend
as he carries her toward
a clear
spot.

Simon is at his side in an instant. He pulls
gauze bandaging out of his pack as soon as it hits the ground.
Another one of Dave’s men comes over.

“I used to be a medic,” he offers and drops
to his knees next to Simon. “I can help. We have others injured,
too.”

Simon has an IV needle with a saline
drip in her arm in a matter of mere moments. The
medic
is pressing bandaging against Annie’s side
where a slow trickle of blood is escaping. Simon takes out another
syringe and slowly pushes the clear liquid into her IV. Cory hopes
for her sake it was some kind of painkiller. She’s in pain, a lot
of pain but trying not to show it. It looks like the bullet has
passed through the fleshy part of her waist. Cory hopes it hasn’t
pierced an organ, whatever organs are over there.

“Can I help, sir?” one of the women asks. “I
used to be a nurse here in the city.”

She sure as hell doesn’t look like a
nurse anymore. The woman is short, small and petite and
se
ems like she was once
very pretty
. She’s maybe in her early
forties. Simon’s mom was also a nurse. The ticking gets louder
again in Cory’s head.

“Yes, ma’am. Hold pressure here. She’s going
to need medical care at our clinic,” Simon says as he flings his
night-vision gear to the ground. “So are some of the others. I saw
a few of the guys get hit from my perch.”

Cory knows his friend is in doctor mode and
has left behind the sniper soldier he has to become sometimes. He
is so much more suited to healing people than killing them. Cory,
on the other hand, is quite at home with the killing aspect. The
woman assists rather skillfully as Cory holds a flashlight for
them.