Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Book 4): Walking In The Shadow Of Death (22 page)

“Like you said Brad, everything is
okay now.”

24.

When they reached the top of the
hill and entered the tree line, Brad could see why the farm had been so hard
for anyone to find. The thick row of trees were barely fifteen feet wide but
they hung over and shadowed the gravel drive. The trees were full, and the
drive curved through them just enough to conceal the large snow-covered pasture
beyond them. Farther out across the rolling hills, Brad spotted the large
fieldstone farm house. It was flanked by a large barn and several smaller outbuildings.

As they walked towards the
farmhouse, Brooks and Parker came out to meet them. Brad shook both of their
hands and embraced them with hugs. “It’s good to see you Brad, I thought we
lost you,” Brooks said as he slapped him on the back. “Not this one though, she
wouldn’t stop talking about you, pressing me to go out and search every day,”
he said, looking at Chelsea.

Brad looked down, then back up at
Brooks. “Honestly, I don’t even know how long it’s been … after the crash
things just blurred together… Oh, how is Kelli? We brought a doctor.”

“I just met him. Chief filled me in
on what you all have been through, that’s some crazy shit, brother… I wouldn’t
have sent you for the meds had I known.”

“Yeah,” Brad said, shaking his
head, “I don’t want to talk about that …”

“Yup the doc just headed off with
Mrs. Murphy to take a look at our wounded. She will surely put him to work,”
Brooks said.

“Wait …
the wounded …
who
else is hurt?” Brad asked.

Avoiding the question, Brooks
slapped Brad on the back and pointed towards the large plank wood outbuilding.
“Come on, let’s get to the barn. The Murphys have been letting us hold up in
there.”

Brad followed them down the drive
which wound past the large stone farmhouse. As they walked, he told them about
how they had found Hahn and brought him to the factory. How the people there
had taken them in, fed them and helped them find the farm.

The home sat three stories tall,
big and square; the first story was comprised completely of fieldstone. Beyond that,
the top two stories were made of overlapping thick blocks of timber. The
windows were high off the ground and set into the stone, with more on the
second and third stories. Along the front of the house wrapped a decorative
covered front porch. From the design of the porch it looked to have been added
to the farm house more recently. 

As the drive widened, it flattened
out into a large lot, broken and rutted up, probably from hay wagons and
tractors. It would have been extremely muddy in the spring, but now in the cold
weather the soil was stiff and crumbled under his boots. The barn was tall and
matched the design of the house with stone walls and a flat roof. It was sturdy
and well built. It wasn’t the type of barn he was used to on the dairy farms back
in Michigan, but more closely resembled those he had seen in Germany and
Ireland.

Brooks moved past the large sliding
barn door and reached for a wooden handle on a smaller entryway. As they moved
inside, Brad could smell the musty hay and livestock, a familiar smell, having
grown up near similar rural farms. He looked about and saw that the first floor
of the barn had been divided. A large aisle went down the center with livestock
pens on either side. There was a loft covering the back half of the barn, and
he could see his men up there. Brooks moved to a ladder and began climbing up.
Parker urged Brad to go next and he took the heavy rungs in his hand and lifted
himself and the weight of the pack up and onto the second floor of the barn.

He came up over the edge of the
loft and was pulled forward by Brooks and quickly helped out of his rucksack.
He finally saw everyone together. They were all there. This large area of the
loft was arranged like a barracks, with the exception of cots, but individual
sleep spaces and personal areas had been arranged with blankets and sleeping
bags. Daniel Villegas was in a corner. Sean was talking to him, and from his
body language Brad could tell that the conversation was not a pleasant one.

Brooks indicated Sean and Daniel.
“Chief is ripping Danny a new one over the incident at the cabin. Those
brothers have had it rough since they got here. Gunner already tore them up
over it, and that was when we still thought Hahn was dead.”

“Where are the wounded” Brad asked.

“Back here,” Brooks said,
indicating for Brad to follow him.

A section of the loft had been
broken up and divided by heavy tarps. Four walls hung, made of fabric, with
another providing overhead cover. Once inside the tarps one instantly got the
feeling of being in an enclosed tent. A small kerosene stove burned in the
center, providing significantly more warmth than outside the canvas partition.

 A row of hasty beds were set
up, running head to foot along the back wall of the partition. Kelli was leaned
up against a set of large pillows resting, conscious, her bandaged legs
outstretched and elevated. Gunner was sitting on a bunk with his shoulder
heavily bandaged. Daniel Villegas was laid back on a rack. Ericson and the
nurse were slowly unwrapping a set of stained bandages which covered his
abdomen. Alex and Jorgensen were just behind them, nervously holding the bag of
medical supplies and the doctor’s medical kit.

“Wha … what happened?” Brad
stuttered. He was expecting to see Kelli convalescing, not half his team down.

Chelsea moved beside Brad and
grabbed his hand. “We had trouble,” she said.

Gunner looked up at Brad. “We had a
bit more than that.” He struggled to sit up and face the men, nursing his
wounded shoulder, the effort seeming to take all of his wind. “Good to see you
Brad, as you can see I’m a bit banged up.”

“How?” Brad said, still unsure what
to make of their situation.

“We went out looking for you two.
After the rest of the team returned from the cabin empty-handed.” Gunner waved
a hand and shot a disgusted glare to the outside of the tent. They could just
overhear the heated discussion between Joseph and Sean. “When they came back
and told us how they abandoned you all in the field, and left Hahn to die ….
Well we scrambled a team together.”

“Hahn isn’t dead,” Brad said in a
low voice, not changing his expression.

“Yeah, I heard,” Gunner
acknowledged. “They assumed the worst for him, seeing as they were sure he had
been infected. Sean told us the story of how Hahn stayed behind. I guess
leaving him was the right thing to do with the information they had.” Gunner
paused, looking frustrated, searching for the right words. “It’s all in the
past I guess … Anyhow, the brothers were eager to go out after you two, looking
for redemption for fucking up and leading that herd back to the cabin, dumb
fucks.” Gunner was growing visibly agitated.

Brooks moved to Gunner’s rack and
sat next to him, “Like you said Gunner, it’s in the past.”

“Yeah, I know …” Gunner looked
exhausted and leaned back, trying to get comfortable. “Those shitty painkillers
you keep giving me make me tired.”

“Yeah, it has nothing to do with
the blood loss and that hole in your shoulder,” Brooks said sarcastically.

Brooks continued for Gunner.
“Anyhow, the next morning we formed up a small search party, moved out and
patrolled the road, figuring that would be the best bet to find you. We
searched all day until just before dark, turning up nothing but those slow
primals. The next day we decided to cut south and patrol towards the cabin,
sticking to the secondary roads.

“We put down a few of those things
on the way, avoiding others when we could. Thought we would come up empty
again, ready to turn back for the day, when we came upon a bunch of houses just
off the road. Small places, nothing special. But there was a car parked in the
road just in front of them. Damn thing was running, could see the hot exhaust
rising in the cold air. Just sitting there idling quietly.

“We dug in and watched, planted
ourselves in some heavy cover, saw two men. They were ferrying goods to the car
from the house. They
were
armed,” Brooks paused briefly to motion
towards a corner of the tent where two Colt C7 rifles and an older scoped
hunting rifle were leaning against a pack. “Their rifles were slung across
their backs while they carried boxes of food and other things from the homes.
We didn’t have all day to scout them out. Gunner decided to move forward with
the Villegases to approach them, while I stayed back in over watch with the
long gun.”

Gunner sat up and jumped back into
the story. “Those cocksuckers … They played it up real good, said they were
sailors just looking for food, trying to get by. They weren’t real clear on
where the hell they were from, but they spoke with a Russian accent. Said they
found the rifles at an abandoned checkpoint. They was real interested in how we
got here. Wanted to know where we were staying, what provisions we had, if we
had
women
.

“They got agitated when I wouldn’t
tell them. I said we were alone on the trail in search of a couple friends
after we got separated in the storm. Everything I owned was on my back, I just
wanted to know if they had seen two men. They were about as useless as a bent
dick.

“Talk turned to how impressed they
were with our weapons and equipment, and how much ammo did we have, would we be
interested in a trade. I still didn’t pick up on them being hostile … Shit,
they had their rifles slung behind their backs …” Gunner shook his head, “We
told them we didn’t have anything to spare, and they seemed okay with the
answer. Russian bastards … I took a round to the shoulder, put me on my ass
before I even heard the shot. 

“Second shot took Danny in the gut.
Joey somehow made it to cover, he was able to get his rifle up before those two
Russian fucks … he had em painted red before they could unsling their rifles.
Brooks here put down the sniper.”

Jorgensen, overhearing the
conversation, stepped forward. “I know who they are. I’m sure it’s the same
group.”

Brooks looked at Jorgensen. “Who is
this?”

“His name is Jorgensen, he’s a
friend,” Brad said.

Jorgensen moved closer and extended
a hand, “Call me George. I have seen this same group of men. I believe they are
responsible for other deaths near here.”

Jorgensen retold the story of the others,
and the missing and murdered families. The encounters on the road. How they had
come in on freighters that were now sitting off the coast. The sailors seeking
refuge during the outbreak. Jorgensen told how he had tried to get close to
their camp near one of the port villages, but didn’t want to risk being caught,
or leading them back to the factory. For the most part they had just avoided
the strangers, and kept their distance.

Brooks listened politely before
asking questions. “George, this camp, could you show me?”

Jorgensen looked at him, puzzled.
“Well sure, but … We don’t want trouble from them, I have families to protect,
and not enough men or weapons to stand up against them. My people have already
discussed this, it’s better to keep our distance and stay out of sight.”

Brooks looked at him seriously,
“You do know that these types won’t just stay down there on their side of the
valley? Gangs like this are cancers, they will take everything. Once the
low-hanging fruit is gone, they will come up this valley in force. Hell, they
are already here patrolling, looking for easy targets. What happens when the
stuff on the main roads is picked clean, and they start branching out?

“You said they had some local
girls? I’m sure the girls have already told them about your camp. Those men are
probably just waiting for spring to come and take what they want.”

Jorgensen looked frustrated. “I’m
sorry friend, like I said it was decided amongst my people to avoid them.”

Gunner, growing agitated, leaned in
towards Jorgensen. “George, we aren’t asking for your permission. Just a little
help in locating their camp. We won’t need anything else. We can take care of
the rest.”

“And what will you do when you find
them?”

Gunner smiled. “Think of us as your
friendly neighborhood exterminators.”

“I see,” Jorgensen mumbled. “And if
you fail, you poke the hornets’ nest and they come for me and my people, then
what?”

“Just tell them already,” Alex
blurted out, joining the conversation.

“We won’t fail,” Brooks said.

Jorgensen looked at Alex, shaking
his head, “And when they kill these men, then what? Then they are in charge,
then they come after us? Is that it?”

“Jorgensen!” Brad said loudly,
getting the man’s attention, “All we want is to get out of here. You said these
men were sailors? They came in on ships, are they seaworthy?”

Jorgensen, thrown off guard by the
outburst, looked back to Brad. “Well yes, they came here because they had no
place else to go, they were not shipwrecked if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s exactly what I mean. Could we
use their vessels to get home?” Brad asked.

Ericson turned around from his
patient and gave all of them a stern look. “Gentlemen, I must insist you get
the hell out of my infirmary. I am sure you can find a more suitable place to
discuss such things.”

Gunner looked to the doctor and
nodded his head. “You’re right, Doc, sorry for the disruption,” he said as he
prepared to stand.

“Oh no, not you old man, not till I
have had a chance to examine that wound,” Ericson ordered.

Gunner slumped back onto his rack
like a scorned child. “Go on ahead boys, you can fill me in later.”

25.

Brad followed the men downstairs
into the larger stable area of the barn. They turned and walked behind the
ladder, following the middle aisle of the barn, passing the livestock pens
filled with sheep, and into a larger workshop space located off the back. The
room was annexed onto the rear of the barn and was also built from large pieces
of carved fieldstone. A wood stove was glowing in the room with a kettle
resting on top. Brad recognized Jeremiah, the man who’d come to them at the
plane crash. He was resting in a chair, the stem of a pipe hanging from his
lips.

He leaned forward in his chair and
shook Brad and Sean’s hands as they entered the room. “Good to see you men
again,” he said.

“Yes, took us a bit longer to get
here than we’d planned,” Sean answered.

“But still you are here now, that
is something.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Sean said.

“And who is this? I recognize Alex,
but not this man,” Jeremiah said, pointing the pipe at Jorgensen.

Jorgensen extended his hand to
Jeremiah, “I am George, a friend of the boy’s uncle.”

“David? David is alive?” Jeremiah
laughed. “Figures out of everyone … David would be the one to make it, and let
me guess, that red-haired fool cousin of his … Francis as well?”

Alex smiled. “Yes sir, Uncle David
and Francis are both well.”

“And your father? How is he, I
haven’t seen him in quite some time?”

“Mom and Dad are gone,” Alex said,
looking down.

“That’s a shame, your father was a
good man, not like that uncle of yours,” Jeremiah said.

Brooks moved past them and deeper
into the workshop before taking a seat at a large workbench. The others took
notice and followed him into the larger part of the workshop. Jeremiah sighed
before getting to his feet and following them towards a large block wood table
that sat in the middle of the room. He pulled a stool from against the wall and
joined them at the table.

The table already had a large
topographical map sitting in the center. Wooden blocks had been placed on it.
One was in the approximate location of the farmhouse. Others marked the cabin
and the crash site. A large circle was drawn around the village and the clinic.
Several X’s were marked, indicating places the team had searched or visited in
the days prior.

Sean stood at the edge of the table
and leaned over the map. “You all have been busy.”

“You didn’t think we were just
gonna sit on our asses, did you? Once things quieted down we managed to remove
most of the goods from the Antonov. We were able to recover Theo as well. With
the help of Jeremiah and his boys, of course,” Brooks said.

“Thank you for that, sir,” Sean
said.

Jeremiah acknowledged his comment
with a nod. Sean turned his gaze back to Jorgensen. “Now on this map, can you
tell me where their camp is located?”

Jorgensen paused, scratching his
chin. “If I do this, you have to give me assurances that my people will be
safe.”

“They will be safer than they are
now with them out there,” Brooks said.

“I need more than that. We need
weapons like those ones you had up there that you took from their dead,”
Jorgensen said.

Sean gave Jorgensen a hard stare.
“I tell you what George, you take us to their camp, and I’ll give you first
choice of war souvenirs.”

“Their camp may hold over a hundred
men. I see here, what … seven, maybe eight fighters? I’m sure you understand
why it is hard for me to trust you.”

“Leave that to us, just get us to
the camp so we can see what we are dealing with,” Sean said.

“And you promise you will arm and
protect my people?”

“You have my word,” Sean said.

“Do you have a pen?” Jorgensen
asked.

Jeremiah reached into a trough that
flanked the table and tossed Jorgensen a red grease marker. Jorgensen picked up
the pen and stared at the map. He circled an elevated wooded area where two
main roads intersected. “I saw their camp here,” he said, then moved his finger
down a long road towards a coastal area which was marked with objects
identifying manmade structures. “I suspect the main body of their people are
here, in this fishing village. I know from news reports before things went dark
that several freighters had anchored in this bay. The village is protected by
cliffs, but easily accessible by the road.”

“You said there could be a hundred
of them, how do you know this?” Brooks asked.

Jorgensen looked across the table
to Brooks, then to Alex. “Alex, would you mind leaving the room? Could you join
the doctor, please?”

“Why? The doctor is fine,” Alex
protested.

“Alex has seemed to handle himself
pretty good, why not let him stay?” Brad asked.

“Some things you cannot un-see, and
some things you cannot un-hear,” Jorgensen mumbled.

Alex glared at him. “I watched my
parents slaughtered, what could be worse?”

There was an uncomfortable silence in
the room as Jorgensen stared at the map, contemplating his next words. Sean
finally spoke, breaking the tension. “Please George, continue.”

“Okay, but Alex, talk of this does
not leave the room. Do you understand, boy?”

Alex nodded his head yes.

“I need to hear you speak it. If
the people in the factory hear … They will be scared. We can’t have that,
Alex.”

“I understand, I won’t repeat it,”
Alex blurted out.

Jorgensen took in a deep breath and
exhaled. “After we found the father and the boy dead, and the girls missing
...” Jorgensen paused again, looking at Alex before continuing, “I decided to
make another attempt at finding their camp, learning more about them. I left
the factory. It is common for me to be gone days at a time on a hunt. No one is
ever concerned as long as I return with fresh meat. This time was different. I
followed the roads to here then crossed into the high grounds,” Jorgensen said,
tracing his route on the map.

“I made it to this point, just
above the intersection and their camp,” he pointed. “I arrived just before dark
and I was afraid to move after the sun fell for fear of the Buhmann. I got my
rest in the high branches of a pine tree. Occasionally I could see lights from
their buildings when they would open doors, but they were quiet. I suspect they
fear the Buhmann as much as we do.

“As the sun came up I found I had
picked a perfect vantage point to view the intersection and the
camp
.
But this is no camp.”

“What are you saying?” Brad asked.

“They use this place to hold the
road, looking like an official checkpoint. I watched them stop a car, a family.
They pulled them from the vehicle and executed the males before dragging off
the females to a waiting car that took them down the road to the coast. Some of
them are dressed as policemen, others in military uniforms.”

“How long did you stay?” Brooks
asked.

“I watched them through the day.
They stopped three cars, killing the occupants and taking their belongings.
They piled the dead in a trench, stripping them of their clothing, and parking
their vehicles in a lot.

“Many times one of their own cars
would approach the barricade. They would leave with three to four men,
presumably on their patrols to scavenge supplies. For the most part the
vehicles went to the south and away from the factory. I counted at least fifty
armed men between those in the vehicles and those working the gates.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Alex
asked.

“Your uncle knows, and Francis too.
They thought it best to keep it quiet until we had a solution. We didn’t want
the people to scatter and flee the safety of the factory.”

Sean reached forward and placed a
single .308 round on its end over the marked intersection on the map. “Well now
you have a solution.”

“But still you are only seven, and
they are so many,” Jorgensen said.

Brooks laughed. “We prefer
target-rich environments.”

Sean turned to Alex. “You will need
to return the doctor to the factory, make sure he checks in on Hahn.”

“No, I will go with you, to the
camp,” Alex said eagerly.

“No, not this time. Take the doctor.
I need you to make sure he gets back safely. Parker, you go with him, I’m sure
Hahn would be happy to see you,” Sean said, looking across the table to the
soldier who had remained silent.

“Roger, Chief,” Parker answered.

“Jorgensen, we will travel at first
light. Hope you packed extra underwear, because I will need you to stay over
tonight. Brad, hate to pick on you, but I want you and Brooks to roll with me.
I think four is the magic number for this little operation,” Sean said.

“And what is the op exactly?”
Brooks asked.

Sean looked across the table to
Brooks and Brad. “Let’s just get eyes on before we put anything in stone, but
pack for a faceoff with the devil.” Sean stood up from the table and walked
towards the door. “That’s all I’ve got, anyone want to show me where I can get
some chow?”

Brad stayed behind, examining the
map as the rest of them walked out of the workshop. He found himself alone with
Chelsea. She walked around the table and stood next to him at the corner.
“Brad, you just got back, why are you leaving again?” she asked, looking him in
the eye.

“It’s what we do, you heard
George’s story,” Brad said.

“That’s bullshit, this isn’t what
you do, and that’s all behind you now. You don’t have to do any of this, Brad. Stay
here, stay with me.”

“Not yet Chelsea, I can’t quit on
them yet,” Brad said, looking away from her, not able to say it to her face.

“Then when, when does it all end?”

“Chelsea, if this works, we might
find a ship. We could make it back to the States, we could get home.”

“At what cost, Brad? There is no
more home, it’s all lost,” she said, beginning to raise her voice.

Brad put his hands on the table and
retrieved the .308 round Sean had placed there. He fumbled with the round,
tumbling it in his fingers. “I have to find out, I want to see it for myself.”

“Where does that leave me, Brad, am
I just supposed to stay here on this farm while you go out and get yourself
killed? What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought maybe things would be
different when you came back,” Chelsea said, her voice cracking, a tear falling
down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Brad said, watching as
Chelsea left the room, leaving him alone. He sat there silently for a while,
trying to collect his thoughts. There were too many things happening at once,
too many to comprehend. The last thing he wanted to do was to go back out into
the cold, dark woods to face the primals again … and even worse, the men who
seemed to be terrorizing the roads to the south.

“Damn it!” he yelled, slamming his
hand on the table. “Of course I don’t want to go, fuck yeah I’d rather stay
here. Why can’t she understand that I don’t have a choice?” he said to himself.

He couldn’t leave Sean and Brooks
to do this alone. He would have to push it all back, back to the furthest part
of his brain. Time to shut down and get back on mission. Sean was making the
calls now, and he was okay with that. Brad was content with being the good
soldier and following orders for a bit longer, as long as they kept moving
towards the goal of getting home.