The Storm (29 page)

             
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. RATATATATAT. POP POP POP POP!

             
More gunshots were being fired than anyone could count, and it sounded like war or a battle was raging too close for comfort. Again I swept the field with my eyes. Nobody was injured, and the sound felt like it was a half mile to a mile away. I looked at Samantha, who was suddenly paralyzed with fear and couldn’t speak. “We need to know what’s happening. I’m going to find out.”

              She only just nodded back as her hand came up to cover her open mouth. The scattered gunshots during the day and night rarely rattled nerves. Maybe it was someone hunting or an isolated incident in another neighborhood. The mind could rationalize away almost anything. This continuous barrage left no ambiguity of its hostile intent. There was a fight close by, and I had to make sure it didn’t spill over into our neighborhood.

CHAPTER 15

Law and Disorder

              Rapidly we moved through the forest. The sound of continuing gunfire hadn’t abated since the first thunderous roars had shattered our peaceful planting. I was leading a search party through the forest in unmarked paths toward the source of the battle. The blasts continued to roar and echo such that as shots rang out, we could feel the vibrations in our chest.

             
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!

             
At least I wasn’t alone. Samantha had been frozen with fear as I had announced over the field that I was going to investigate and secure our neighborhood. Rick and Roald were with me, as was Miller and Nana. The rest of the community had gone from a state of joviality about their freshly planted crops to quickly being cowed into their homes. Rick and Roald were already armed and started toward danger the same time I did. Miller had grabbed Nana separately and met us as we entered the forest. Again we set out and Slav wasn’t with us.
Nice security chief
, I reflected.

              All of us were armed, and none dared to speak. I didn’t know what Rick and Roald had been up to but the rest of us were battle tested. Whatever lay ahead, we at least wouldn’t flinch. I kept replaying what happened earlier on Plantation Road when I shot that man. It’s hard to forget your friends dying, but it is surprisingly easy to forget the bullets that were fired at me. I kept recalling how I spotted him and blew his leg apart with my one shot. In this new crappy world, he was probably as good as dead even if he struggled on for days.

              Rick and Roald may have enjoyed being existential in their outer appearance, but they are still tough guys when the circumstances call for it. Little surprised or impressed me anymore, but their grabbing of their guns and chasing after me without my prodding made an impression. I knew they had my back, and that was a confidence booster, which was sorely needed after this morning. Miller was becoming an okay guy to me. I thought he was prison trash, but he had at least been on the same level as I was. Nana was solid and a super sweet guy who cared so deeply about his community that he would lay himself on the line for it.

              Miller and Nana had gotten pushed in a different direction from me earlier. They battled what they termed the “hoodie” gang and had to flee south and west. They went through a large government block of land devoted to technological research and then luckily passed a neighborhood uneventfully before circumventing the apartments where our struggle was this morning.

              They had returned home an hour after I did, fatigued and stressed as well but at least in one piece. Nana and Miller said they thought they killed one person and winged another, but it was impossible to be sure. Even if they killed a few, the encounter earlier left us hurting and short of three individuals. Maybe Mohammad was doomed anyway with his infection, but his loss, as well as the others, hurt me. Tom gave us an abstract mind to look at problems that would be missed. Randy, well . . . He was a person.

              The gunfire continued to blast and fill the air. We were walking through the forest to the east of our neighborhood. It was usually the preserve of deer and a few teenage kids looking for a safe spot to look at their adult magazines. Plantation Road was only a couple hundred feet to the south and could be seen as we advanced. We were wedged like a triangle with me in front, Rick and Roald behind me, and Nana and Miller holding up the rear again.

              Some of the gunfire sounded like it came from a machine gun. Maybe the military had returned to restore law and order? That was wishful thinking, and I knew it. We were swimming with sharks these days, and the best thing we could do was not get eaten and fight back as best as possible. Every step brought the gunfire closer, and I now realized what or at least where this battle was occurring. There was one building ahead on this side of the road that separated our neighborhood from the apartments. It was the police station and whoever was in there was under siege.

              My foot forcefully stepped on a big twig, and it let out a cracking sound that was louder than I would have liked. I raised my right hand to signal “freeze,” and we all duly stopped. Up to this point, we were moving pretty rapidly but now we were close, and the time for abundant caution was at hand. Each step forward would be measured. Any whispers weighed against the risk of being heard. I suspected that whoever was ahead would be so engaged in this battle that we could probably sneak up on them, but being caught from rushing forward would be a stupid way to die.

              Voices were now starting to be audible. The occasional shout reverberated aimlessly through the air. The first time we heard it, I looked back and saw Rick. He stared at me with a courage that begged me to continue onward. Before doing so, I glanced at Roald, and he had the same look. Further back, Nana looked tired but gave me a wholly different set of emotions. His face looked pissed off, and he was probably thinking the same thing I was. Revenge. These were almost certainly the same people that popped us this morning, and suddenly I was happy to be walking toward their gunfire. His eyes met mine, and he gave me a small nod. Yes, we were definitely on the same page, and both our eyes had a fire burning within them.

              The police station was a stand-alone structure. It was square in shape and had a drab brick appearance. There were two levels to it above ground and probably holding cells below, though I had never stepped foot in it. The ground level had a few windows, but they were covered with bars. The whole structure had a good-sized parking lot that surrounded it on all sides and entryway from Plantation Road. As far as I knew, there was only the front entrance with large glass doors into the building, though a couple of emergency exits existed on other sides, looking like fortified doors.

              Gunshots continued to echo through the air. We were getting closer, and now I started listening to the various sounds. It was evident there were several different kinds of guns firing. Some shots roared more deeply than others, and a few sounded like shotguns. Some shots were isolated single blasts but most were part of rapid fire. The guns were either automatic or semi-automatic weapons. The voices grew louder as well. “Pig” and “dead man” shouts were clearly audible. We were a hundred feet from the edge of the forest and now walking slowly, guns hoisted to our shoulders and our eyes sweeping ahead for any signs of movement.

              The edge of the forest had a small crest that was about seven feet in height with a sharp incline that led up to a grassy buffer area of fifty feet between the trees and the parking lot. We were now about a dozen paces from that crest when we heard thumping boot steps and voices. I raised my hand and made a gesture to get low, which we all immediately did by quietly squatting low to the ground. Suddenly I looked back at my group and realized just how ridiculous we looked. We had no camouflage and were wearing colors that clashed with nature. If anyone bothered to check the woods, we were sitting ducks.

              The voices above were loud and quick, as though they were breathing hard and shouting at each other. “Man, I told you there wasn’t no back door.”

              Another man responded, “He told us to go around and check and that’s what we’re doing. Keep your slow ass moving. I don’t want to get shot because you are out of shape.”

              “I don’t know why he picked me for this crap. He knows I can hit anything with a gun at long range like that pecker this morning. I’m a damn sniper, not a scout man. See that door over there?”

              A brief pause. “Yeah, but it’s got no knob to open it. I ain’t getting my ass shot by walking over to it. Fuck that, man. Let’s finish our circle and then we can report back we did what we was told.”

              Gunshots continued to roar and echo about as these guys’ voices faded while they moved onward and out of audible range. I glanced back at my guys and saw a bit of fear in their faces. Fear . . . and doubt.
Should we just get out of here and let this thing play out without us?
I wondered it too. Everyone was waiting for someone else to speak. Finally I motioned everyone to come into a huddle within a few feet of each other so that we could whisper and be heard. “You guys hear that? They are the same ones that shot at us this morning.”

              Miller answered, “Bastards. I should have just ran up there and shot that one guy in cold blood.” He looked down at his rifle and almost petted the barrel like one would pet a dog. “This baby is going to get some revenge.”

              Rick spoke next, his voice still hushed. “They sound organized.”

              Nodding his head, Roald chimed in. “They were talking about following orders and looking for a way into the building.”

              Finally Nana gave his thoughts with one hand on the ground to balance him and the butt of the rifle also pressed into the dirt as he squatted. “We got ambushed earlier guys . . . bad. This is our chance to do it back to them.” With that, he gave that big Nana grin that showed off his oversized and overly whitened teeth.

              I felt right about this too. These criminals or gangs would probably be doing the same to our neighborhood soon, so this was our time to strike. Still, I wondered about why they were assaulting a now defunct police station. “Any ideas why they are going all out on a police station that is sans officers?”              

              Miller didn’t even blink or hesitate in his reply. “Josh, these guys have probably been in the slammer at some time or were headed to it. I can tell you one thing: everyone in prison shares is a hatred for all cops. All day and night it’s almost all that anyone ever thinks about, other than getting out and finding some nice Poon Tang.” He then looked at Rick and Roald and rather gruffly added, “I never tossed no salads either. Don’t you guys get the wrong idea about me. This is probably the fulfillment of a lifelong fantasy for a bunch of those guys.”

              They looked at each other and almost chuckled before Rick shook his head no and said, “Don’t worry, Miller. You’re not invited to one of our late-night parties.”

              It was then that I remembered the Alex police team. It hadn’t been that long but felt like an eternity since that day when I spoke to him. Alex Hampisch, I recalled. They were probably still in there, and these gangs saw them as an obstacle to their pillaging. Most of the structure of society had been flushed down the toilet when the storm hit, but perhaps a thin residue was left, and these gangs sensed it and wanted to stamp that out as well.

              I finally decided enough time had passed since our enemies made their pass, and we should move out. “Okay, guys. We crawl up and stay in the forest. There are some shrubs and other bushes before the grass we can hide behind. Nobody fires a shot, unless one of them is on top of you and you have to.”

              “Agreed,” came the unanimous response.

              As we crawled up the small incline on all fours, I reflected on the callousness of death. The bible often describes death as a pale horse with the rider that comes to take souls to the afterworld. If that was the case and he missed me earlier, I felt like he had switched allegiances, and it was me now mounting that pale horse. Death was coming again, but this time it was me riding it toward my enemies.

              We lucked out majorly on where we decided to come out of the woods. We were to the west of the police station, and most of the enemies were to its south with a half dozen grouped north of it. The men to the north had flipped over two picnic tables in the grass and were behind them for cover. I assumed they were there to limit the escape options of the police officers. Nobody was near us on the west side and the east was out of view. To the south, there were at least two dozen armed men. They were all races and ages, unified under their banner of destruction. Just as we formed a militia for defense, so had they, only they were going on offense.

              In front of us were a whole line of green shrubs that were three feet tall and kept their leaves during the winter. I didn’t know what variety they were. Tom would have known in an instant, but they were planted because of being low maintenance. One or two trims a year, and they stay nice. As it were, they provided excellent concealment of us as we formed a line and spread out five feet apart from each other and crawled under them. The gunfire from the south side was deafening as it didn’t abate.

              Finally I got to a point where I could move some of the leaves aside with the barrel of my gun and peek outside for a clear view. What I saw was disturbing. This gang must have raided or found a secret stash of an army reserve depot because they were sporting all sorts of military grade equipment. Bullets continued flying at the building, and I saw what looked like ammo boxes stacked. I took a small glance down at my old cowboy rifle and suddenly didn’t feel so confident. Still, we had surprise, and that balanced out the equation as far as I knew.