A New World [7] Takedown (21 page)

I would hole up for the rest of the day with Tim and his group – we all need the rest and visiting with them has raised our spirits – but I also know that the soldier is eager to find out about his family. I know I would be and so it would be selfish for us not to take the time we have to go look at the earliest opportunity…which is now.

We gather our gear and the teams load up – as we have done now seemingly hundreds of times. The smell of a locker room is beginning to override the diesel, oil, and electrical smells inside the Stryker. With Tim’s group nearby and having no trouble with marauders to date, I’m not all that concerned about transiting the outlying areas on our journey south. That doesn’t mean we won’t proceed slowly and scout the area ahead, it’s just that I feel a little more comfortable. That could be because my stomach is full of barbecued burgers. It was nice being able to relax some and shoot the shit.

The journey through the base is quick and we soon find ourselves traveling down the interstate. We drive past several housing areas which are mostly hidden behind fences and soon find ourselves out in the countryside. The change is abrupt – one minute passing wooden and concrete fences and the next, traveling next to hedgerow-lined fields. The scattered clouds above begin to cover a greater portion of the sky. Sunshine pokes through the breaks sending rays down to brighten patches of ground.

The trip is like most of the others we’ve encountered – farm houses spaced far apart and machinery lying idle in fields or in sheds but no sign of anyone around. We don’t pass a single other settlement on our way south. The only place that comes vaguely close is a rest stop situated between the north and south lanes. A green highway sign indicates that ‘Wellington’ is at the next exit. The soldier informs us that the town is a mile or so off the road. We exit the freeway onto the ramp and take a right toward the town.

The first indication of civilization, so to speak, is a campground off to one side of the road. The yellow KOA Campground sign hangs as a reminder of time past. I’m not sure what would hold anyone’s interest around here to make this a stop for campers, but the soldier assures me that it was full during the summer. I see the anticipation and fear in his eyes as we are about to enter his hometown. He has seen our success to date so I’m guessing it’s mostly fear. I knew that fear of the unknown with regards to your loved ones when Robert and Bri were taken. And of course, the ultimate loss of Nic.

Passing the campground which was aging even when people were actually inhabiting it, I spy a Walmart ahead with an adjacent McDonald’s in front next to the road. I have the soldier in the open turret with me in order to help guide us, making it rather cramped. The shopping center parking lot is mostly empty, but a couple of pickup trucks are parked near one of the entrance doors.

“Wait, sir. I recognize one of those trucks. It belongs to one of my buddies,” the solider says.

I ask the driver to pull into the Walmart and notify the rest of the teams of our plan to investigate. We slow and turn into the lot. As we do, I see one of the truck doors open and someone exits to dart inside the store.

“We have a runner who just disappeared into the store,” I tell the others.

The Stryker pulls in and parks in a position to give it a clear lane of fire to the vehicles and the store entrance. The ramp lowers with the soldier and me exiting using the armored vehicle as cover. As before, if we’re fired upon, we’ll return fire with the Stryker and leave. I have Gonzalez sitting at the rear of the vehicle and keeping a watch on our six. It may be the soldier’s friend or it could be someone who stole the truck. I’m not taking any chances.

“Do you know most of the people in town?” I ask, standing on the ramp at one corner of the Stryker with the soldier beside me.

“Not everyone but, yes, most of them, sir,” he answers.

“Give them a shout then.”

“Whoever is in there, this is Sam…Sam Kennewich,” the soldier yells.

“Sam…Sam, is that really you, man? It’s Jim,” a voice calls from inside the dark depths of the store.

“Get the fuck out here, you shit,” Sam calls good-naturedly, murmuring a “sorry, sir” to me.

“No worries. I’ve heard that word a time or two,” I reply.

A figure emerges tentatively from the Supercenter into the daylight.
 
Five others exit behind him.

“Sir?” Sam asks whether it is okay if he goes to his friend.

“Go ahead.”

I have the teams exit and form a quick perimeter around the Stryker before I follow in Sam’s footsteps. I see him and whoever he was talking to shake hands and then hug. As I approach, the others behind Jim watch me with wariness. Sam, they know, but not me. However, I’m with someone they know so that puts us on a neutral ground.

As I draw near, I hear Sam ask, “So…what’s the story, you know—”

“Dude, it’s all good. Your parents are alive and with us,” Jim interrupts, knowing what Sam wants to know but is afraid to actually ask.

Sam’s eyes well with tears. Jim sees this and pulls him into another hug. Sam sobs quietly for a moment on Jim’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you made it, man. Come on. Let’s go see them,” Jim says. “We were going to check for any remaining supplies here but, what the fuck, we can do that later.”

“And who is this, Sam?” one of the other men in the party asks, nodding in my direction.

“Oh, this is Captain Walker,” Sam answers.

“Jack will be fine,” I say as introductions are made. “Did I hear you say correctly that you were going into the store?”

“Yeah. We have a few supplies but always checking for more,” one of the men says.

“What about night runners? Don’t you have problems with them?”

“Night runners? Oh, you mean those freaks of nature. Yeah, there are a couple hundred of them around. Tricky fuckers, so we don’t go very far inside any place. We get most of our food from the fields and silos around. It’s mostly light bulbs, toilet paper, stuff like that we scavenge in buildings for,” he answers.

“How many of you are there?” I ask.

“I don’t know you well enough to answer that.”

“Calm down, Kyle. He’s with Sam so that’s good enough for me,” Jim says. Turning to me, he says, “We have about forty left. We holed up in the county jail.”

Sam chuckles. “You know that place well enough.”

“Hey, it was only that one time. It’s not like I had a residency card. And, if I remember right, you were there that night, too.” Sam glances sheepishly toward me.

“You have no worries about that from me. We were all young once,” I say, addressing his worry.

“Come on, let’s go. Your parents have been worried sick about you,” Jim states, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulder.

“Sir, do you mind if I ride with them to catch up?” Sam asks.

I nod okay and head back to the waiting teams. We board and follow the trucks, making a turn to the north at a roundabout. I inform the teams of the good news while we travel. We finally have a better outcome and this causes smiles to shine on every face. The smiles are strained on those who have yet to receive news or have had bad news, but they are smiles nonetheless.

The shops and houses we pass remind me of just about every other town we’ve passed through – store windows broken and some doors hanging open. At the extreme northern end of the town, with scattered industrial buildings, we turn and enter a modern looking building with a brown sign indicating that it’s the ‘Sumner County Jail’. We drive to a sliding security gate at the side of the complex. One of the men jumps out and slides it open. The parking lot we enter has a few pickup trucks parked within it. I notice the fence around the sides and rear of the facility is down in places and the glass entry doors are broken but boarded up.

Several people are out in the parking lot and look our way as we drive in. I suppose it must be quite a surprise to see one of their own head out for supplies only to return with a large armored vehicle. Eyes widen, some in surprise but others have a fearful look in them.

The trucks we were following park. One of the passenger doors opens and Sam exits quickly.

“Mom, Dad,” he shouts, taking off at a run. One of the couples near the edge of the group turns toward the shout.

“Sam?” the woman calls out tentatively.

Sam rushes up and wraps his arms around the woman, hugging her tightly. If he hugged her any tighter, I think she would break. The man joins in, taking all of them in his embrace. They huddle with their heads together. We park the Stryker and exit.

Everyone in both groups is smiling at the reunion, giving hope to those that still have their loved ones to find. I walk over to Jim.

“Who’s in charge here?” I ask.

“That would be Sheriff Dixon,” he replies. “That’s him coming this way.”

I see a man about my size and age approaching. Once he closes, we introduce ourselves. We both trade quick stories, glancing occasionally at the three who are still wrapped together. He asks us to join him inside. I have the teams stay by the Stryker, but the crowd quickly surrounds them, asking questions. I hear some asking about the world outside and if we are part of the military – a common question among the survivors we meet. I guess our outfits and driving an armored military vehicle gives that allusion. I think part of it is people wanting to know if some form of control is coming back and if things will return to normal. I have noticed the disappointment, although covered for the most part, when we tell them our story.

Passing Sam and his parents, the tears have mostly ended. I hear the man say in a low voice, “I’m sorry about Carol, son. We don’t know what happened to her.”

I don’t know what his reaction is as we are soon hustled inside. I have Greg, Robert, and Bri with me.

“We don’t stay in this part anymore,” Dixon says as we cross a lit foyer. “Those creatures of the night break in almost every evening. We’re in the jail proper which they haven’t managed to penetrate.”

We converse for a while giving extended versions of our stories. Dixon knew something bad was happening by the number of calls he started receiving and immediately began rounding up the people who weren’t sick. He lost most of his deputies in the process and the town’s small police force was swallowed up almost immediately, as were the other emergency services. They’d respond to a call only to be taken down. As soon as he figured out what was happening, Dixon stopped responding to calls and began the process of finding those still alive.

“However, that cost us dearly and I lost a number of good people doing that,” he says, his eyes glazing over as he recalls the past.

He seems like a decent sort, especially as he was trying to save as many as he could even though he was putting himself and his staff in danger. I let him know more about the place we have set up and tell him he’s more than welcome to join us.

“That will be a change for a lot of us. We have supplies, water, and a safe haven of our own here. However, that said, and given your stories that there aren’t many of us left, the more we can gather together, the better off we’ll be. I want to talk it over with the others if you don’t mind. After all, it’s their life and decision as well,” he says after a moment of contemplation.

“That’s more than fine, Sheriff. There are a few others farther to the north at the air base that may be going. We can’t stick around for too long, though, as we need to be back before dark…for obvious reasons,” I reply.

“You and you’re group are welcome to stay here for the night if you need,” he says.

“I thank you for that, but we have a long trek ahead of us yet. The sooner we begin, the quicker we can be home. That is one thing to think about though, you’ll be stuck with us for a few days yet as we go searching for more families. It won’t be an easy time. But, we should be back in the Northwest in less than a week,” I state.

“I’ll make sure to mention that. Well, if you are leaving today, I guess I better start the conversation. It may take us a while as some like to hear themselves speak and are prone to lengthy dialogues.”

With that, we shake hands and venture outside. Dixon gathers his people and they head back in for their version of a town hall meeting. Sam accompanies his parents.

“Going to be a bit crowded again, sir,” Gonzalez says, referring to inside the 130.

“If they decide to go,” I say.

“You just watch, sir. They’ll go. They know they don’t have much left here,” she says, waving her arm across the empty fields. “As will the others at McConnell.”

“You have a talent for predicting the future do ya?”

“Nah. I just know people. The Stryker and 130 are great recruiting tools. They see those and armed soldiers, then look down at the hunting rifle by their side and they’re sold. Plus your rugged charm, sir,” she says with a grin.

“Charming and I haven’t ever really seen eye-to-eye.”

“You’ll notice I said ‘rugged’.” Robert chuckles at my side and Bri fails miserably at suppressing a grin.

“You people are impossible. I think I now understand why Lynn assigned me to you. It’s in retaliation for something I said…and more than likely something a year or more ago,” I state.

The sun has long since passed overhead, hidden mostly behind the gathered clouds. We spend the afternoon staring across brown fields or playing cards that McCafferty has broken out while we wait for the people to arrive at a decision. True to his word, the meeting drags on for most of the day. It is getting to the point where I am going to have to interrupt them to tell them we have to leave. The day is wearing on and, if we are going to make it back with some daylight to spare, we have to leave soon. The sheriff walks out just as I rise to go in.