The Survivors: Book One (7 page)

Relying on their training, the two males had been making camp with no fire and whatever was handy; wearing gloves and hats, extra pants and coats under their uniforms. Going very easy with their water, on the fourth day of being AWOL, they had gotten lucky, finding a store that was damaged (that kicked-in door again), but not cleaned out, and Kenn was relieved.

The feeling hadn’t lasted long. They only had a week’s worth of food and water, maybe two if they rationed, and the Marine had a feeling they might have to. The lack of rebuilding was a big sign of things to come. They hadn’t even seen a single person for the last three days, until tonight, and the rare flashes of light in the dark never lasted long enough to track. Hard times were here.

The two males pulled their hoods closer as drizzle started to sprinkle them. Kenn was glad it wasn’t that shit that burned - acid rain. That was something he’d heard about, but scoffed at…until he had a drop land in his eye. Then there was chemical rain, which they were getting now. Almost warm, it was flammable - a puddle would sometimes catch fire from just a thrown cigarette.

The weather wasn’t the worst part of traveling now, but it had definitely slowed them down. They had only come 70 miles since ramming the dead fence to get out of the abandoned Military Installation, and they had made a lot of
"We’ll let this storm move out."
stops. The fury of nature came suddenly now, steady downpours of hot drops that made them itch, or full of little black flakes that resembled snow. Then, there would be brilliant, flashing lightning with loud, drumming thunder that promised damage…and then nothing but silence - all in the same hour. The only true constant was the wind and it blew sand and grit into everything.

As the thin, shadowy sun began to rise in the East, barely visible in the sky, Kenn finally sought shelter, exhaustion insisting. He stopped to look around, wincing at a loud crunch of gravel under the boy’s feet. They were almost out of the city limits now, back to Spanish pueblos and Rocky Mountains shadowing deep canyons full of sharp cliffs and rugged mesas. They would need some things before venturing any farther into that wilderness. First on the list was transportation.

“There’s our camp for tonight."

Eyeing the chaotic lanes of traffic on the hill across from them, Kenn sat on the bottom step of the neat front porch, as Charlie began dropping gear. Surely, there was juice in one of those batteries. It wouldn’t be any fun to clear the other cars and trucks out of the way, but they could be back on the road by tomorrow afternoon - maybe even reach NORAD by the end of next week.

“Door's unlocked." The boy’s tone was questioning.

Kenn yawned, rubbing at his stubbly, black goatee as he stood up. He drew his weapon as he went across the porch, the Marine ready to take over any occupants if it was necessary.

The door opened easily to reveal new paint, walls and floors without marks or imprints, no appliances, and most importantly, no footprints in the layer of dust that coated everything. He pointed these things out to the boy, teaching him patiently.

Kenn stepped back, held out the 9mm to the surprised cadet, who usually only touched a gun in class or competition. “Secure the perimeter."

The thin child took it eagerly, but with respect, snapping off a quick salute before disappearing inside.

Kenn broke into a reluctant smile at the careful copy of his own movements when they made camp each night. He didn’t follow, listening to the doors open and close. A minute later, the tall, thin teenager was back, returning the gun with longing on his face.

“All clear, sir."

Charlie stepped back out into the damp smell of smoke and rot to bring in their things, not waiting to be told. It was the way he had been raised (trained), but it was also to keep Kenny from seeing how much he had thought about pulling the trigger instead. He hated the Marine almost as much as his mom did. One day, when he older, Kenny would pay for every hit he’d ever delivered.

They climbed the muddy hillside to the interstate a short time later, being careful not to slip or look inside the cars unless they had to. Most were empty of their owners, but some were not, and Kenn thought he could tell which ones would be by the type of automobile. The newer, classier vehicles tended to be occupied. Running out of gas was not enough to make those materialistic people abandon their expensive autos. How long had they waited for help to come? A day? A week? In some cases, forever.

“What are we looking for?"

Kenn stomped thick, reddish-brown earth from his boots as he looked over the endless lanes of wrecked, sideways, mud-splattered vehicles. “We need new wheels, but beans, bags, and blankets are on the list too."

The boy nodded, moving to a nearby car as Kenn checked a beaten-up Dodge truck for power. He registered bullet holes, and suitcases still shoved haphazardly into back seats, and his stored the information. Kenn found a lot of clothes and personal items, along with a six-pack of bottled water he was glad to have, but the rest of the search went badly.

It had been less than a month, and he hadn’t expected car batteries to be dead out here too, but every one he checked was. There was gas… and useless keys in the ignitions of most. Doors left hanging open, as well as rusting bullet casings made him revise his theory. These people had left in a hurry.

“What about a dirt bike?" Charlie asked from a few vehicles away, voice echoing in the unnatural stillness.

Kenn moved his way. “Yes."

“It looks new."

The Honda’s key was in the ignition - like someone had tried to take it, but didn’t have time - and when the Marine turned the key backwards, the lights came on, gas gauge swinging to full.

Kenn grinned and pulled the keys out, sliding them into his pocket. “We won’t be on foot come..."

He stopped, listening hard. Had he heard something?

Yes. Engines. Still a mile, maybe more, and the Marine inside seemed to know that they meant bad news.  “Get back to the house!"

Kenn slammed the hatch and grabbed the boy's arm, keeping his grip tight, as they ran down the slick, muddy embankment. He wasn't being careful now, just moving.

They hurried across the yard to the porch, and as the boy began to step up, Kenn pulled him back roughly. “We’re muddy. We’ll leave prints."

He sat on the bottom step, fingers flying over the laces of his boots, and Charlie jerked his off as the sound of engines grew louder, closer.

“What’s going on?"

Kenn shook his head distractedly as they moved inside and closed the door. “Stay below the windows and get your boots back on!"

The Marine was already doing his, and he frowned when the boy only stared at him questioningly.

“But, what’s…"

“Now!”

It was an order and the Cadet did as he was told, eyes hardening.

“Put our things in that closet and leave room for yourself behind them.”

Kenn turned back to the window, hoping all those vehicles weren’t coming here, to this town, to this house. Gunshots rang out, and he stayed low as the group came over the hill and into sight.

A muddy jeep with three clearly armed, dark-skinned men rolled into view first, leading two rusty pickup trucks flying a foreign flag. The men in the back held rifles and bottles. Behind them was a blue station wagon with dark-skinned women and children. Next, a U-Haul truck, a used Mustang, two long, filthy white passenger vans, a very nice, gold flecked convertible, and then bikes - more of those than anything else.

There were roughly a hundred armed men, and Kenn watched them ride closer, heart pumping and adrenaline flying. His well-trained eye picked out details most people would miss. Dark - not black, but Mexican or Cuban, jeeps of armed men, only that one wagon of women…and
what was it about those white vans that bothered him so much?

Had he seen a flash of blond and silver? Hair and handcuffs? Kenn felt his gut tighten. Slavers. That’s why his stomach was a ball of liquid heat. They had been in the path of these invaders. If the truck hadn’t run out of gas, they would probably be in plain sight now. On this desolate stretch, and against so many, with no wheels of their own, there wasn’t even a chance. Death had missed them by a quarter tank.

The large group drove erratically, forcing each other to swerve and fishtail, bumping into one another, and easily avoiding the swampy area to the left of the interstate. That made Kenn worry they might be familiar with the area. He could only hope none of them would notice the new vehicle in the woods, or any of the deep footprints in the hillside.

Suddenly sure these men were responsible for the destruction in this area, Kenn kept his hand close to his M16, thinking he would save the last slugs for…

 “Why don’t we tell them we’re here? Maybe they’d offer a ride."

The teenager’s tone was rebellious, and Kenn frowned, watching the drunken, careless men fire at trees, signs, cars, windows, and anything else that caught their eye - including the sparse houses. Bullets began slamming into the walls, shattering glass.

Kenn dropped to the dusty floor. “That’s the enemy, boy. Get down!”

Not as experienced as the Marine, now that it had been pointed out, Charlie could feel them for what they were - evil. His affection for Kenn grew despite the anger inside. He needed the short-tempered Marine...he didn't have to like him.

Kenn marked the Slavers’ passage, and kept watching, even after they were out of sight and the sounds of their engines were gone. He was still watching when Charlie began dozing with his head against the bullet-riddled wall.

Kenn was worried. There was no way he could challenge or defend against a group of killers that large. He had to hope to sneak through the next couple of days without drawing any attention, though they would be on a loud dirt bike. Worried was an understatement.

However, he was also furious. A part of him was protesting just letting the foreign army continue their rampage. They didn’t belong here - were an affront to everything America had stood for. If he had half a dozen men from his base, he might risk his life and try to kill them all.

Better yet, give me two grunts and Marc Brady,
Kenn thought, lighting a cigarette. Brady had been team leader for the last few years and a pain in his ass, but when it came to high-casualty ambushes, there was no one better.

The Marine blew out smoke rings, thinking they would head northwest when they left here, and then circle back to NORAD. It would add a lot of miles, but get them away from these men quickly. He didn’t want to think the Slavers had been following their back trail, but if they were, they would have to come to where they'd lost it - here. Kenn’s smile was icy. Maybe he could leave a surprise. He wouldn’t know if he got any of them, but it was still worth doing.

For the next few hours, he worked with the explosives he’d taken from the base, listening hard for the group of dangerous men to return. If that happened, they would all go up together in one big blaze of glory. The government compound was waiting for them. That was the direction he’d been heading each day, the most logical thing to do, but Kenn wasn’t sure if he was ready to be back under the rule of the government that had destroyed the world - and then left him behind to die in it - after all the years he had served them...
killed for them.
He still loved the Corps, would always believe in what it stood for. He just no longer trusted those in charge.

There had been a brief hope in the beginning, after all their outgoing CB calls that someone might come back, but he’d waited over a week, and heard only survivors begging for help - saw only the same. When the power had gone off (he had been surprised to have it for almost two weeks), they’d left, unable to wait anymore as supplies ran low. Clearly, they were on their own, a Marine and a cadet adrift. What to do?

They would find a group to travel with, he decided, not looking forward to the boy’s reaction. The teenager expected them to head straight to Ohio, to his mother. Kenn sighed, automatically blocking his thoughts even though Charlie was snoring softly. He had never seen anything…
different
from the boy, but he was always careful. In a few years, the teenager would be the same age his mother had been when they’d met, and her gifts had been strong then. Angela had denied him access, but this sullen child wouldn’t be that strong.

Not that Charlie had any idea what was coming. Talk of magic was forbidden in their house, even the book and movie kind. Kenn had been very careful from the very beginning - just in case the power ran in every generation. There was still a chance to control it, and his role of step-father was driven by that thought. It was part of why he had insisted Charlie become a cadet. More time to create a bond, it also gave Angela time to heal before the boy saw it.

Despite his easy touch, Kenn and the teenager weren’t exactly comfortable with each other, but Charlie knew who was in charge and they were able to work as a team. It also helped that they both liked to win the annual father-son events hosted at different bases each year. They’d been in Arizona this time, at Ft. Defiance for the contests, and they’d cleaned up, winning over half the competitions.

Though they had different last names, Kenn had never let anyone assume he wasn’t the child’s biological parent. They were both tall and stocky, with the same high-n-tight and bright blue eyes, though the regulation haircuts were a bit too long now. Dressed alike, there was definitely a resemblance. They even had the same way of staring directly at someone while listening or talking, not looking away. When they averted their eyes, they were lying.

He wouldn’t say anything to the boy yet, Kenn decided. He wasn’t ready to tell him his mom was likely dead, and they weren’t going back to find out.

Leaning uncomfortably against the drafty wall, third-year cadet Charles White had fallen asleep while cleaning the gunk from under his nails. He was dreaming of his mother.

She was telling him how to handle Kenn, but more importantly, she insisted she would find him, no matter where they went. They were over 1200 miles apart, but his mom was special, different. She could do things that most people could only dream of, and though no one else knew…so could he.