Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors (20 page)

Trent nodded and watched Erica disappear over the top of the Silver Lining.

When she reached his side, Jerry was no longer looking through the binoculars, but staring off into the distance, deep in thought.

“What’s the hold up?” She followed his gaze. It was hard to make out what was happening.

He handed her the binoculars.

She placed them to her eyes. Her face went white and she began to stammer. “Oh, my God. Oh, God.”

“It’s them, isn’t it?” he asked.

She sat down, hard, on the roof of the coach. The binoculars fell from her hand. She nodded, her face a twisted expression of hate, anger, and fear. Tears filled her eyes, but they refused to fall.
 

Squeezing her hand gently, he sat down next to her. He picked up the binoculars and peered at the rig in the distance.

He had seen the armed guards surrounding the perimeter of the truck. This was not uncommon. Everyone on the road was armed. It could have been a caravan. Trade had started to resurface a couple of years ago. Anyone could believe that a guarded rig was nothing more than a group of honest traders.

There was constant activity as the wrecking crew cleared the road. Looking closer he noted not only the scene, but also the people surrounding the rig.

One man leaned against the truck, a cigarette burned in his lips. Jerry had used the apocalypse as an excuse to give up the habit. Having figured that tobacco would be impossible to come by after the world blew up, he was surprised that it was one of first industries to bounce back. Originally scrounged and repacked from pre-apocalyptic smokes, the process had evolved to newly sewn tobacco plants.

At first glance, the smoker appeared to be on break. Looking back at him now, knowing the true nature of the rig, he noticed that the man was bound.

A man with white hair and a red face stepped out of the rig and turned to survey the progress of the road crew. He yelled and pointed instructions, then turned and walked to the bound man. The smoker tried to stand at attention as best he could with his hands fastened behind him.

The white-haired man struck him across the face. The cigarette flew from his lips along with what Jerry could only guess were teeth and a spray of blood.

He recovered only to be struck again. The white-haired man yelled. Jerry could not hear what was said over the sounds of the road crew.

After several strikes, the bound man collapsed. His face was a mess.

The white-haired man yelled to two of the guards. They responded by picking the man off the ground. Supporting him by the shoulders, the guards held the bound man as he slumped. Slight movements from his head were the only indications that he was still conscious.

The white-haired man pulled something from his belt.

There was a flash of light and blood began to spurt from the bound man’s throat. The white-haired executioner walked away as the guards pulled the body to a wrecked sedan. They placed the body in the trunk and rolled the sedan down the embankment. “We can’t, we can’t, we can’t … please.” Erica had pulled her knees to her chest and pleaded through tears that had finally begun to fall.
 

He dropped to his knee and held her. “We’ll go around.”

“No. Let’s go back. Somewhere else.”

“Erica,” his voice was soft, but strong, “we can’t. That thing is headed to New Hope. We have to warn them.”

She sobbed and shook her head frantically.

“We can’t let what happened to you happen to them.”

She controlled her sobbing. “They can’t be stopped. Don’t you see? We tried.”

“But I’ll be there to help.”

She tried to laugh at him, to mock him, but everything came out as sobs. “You? What can you do?”

“Me? I’m a big bad road warrior, remember?” She saw no humor in his mocking.

“Erica,” he spoke with a confidence she needed to hear. “This is what I do.” It was not a confidence he possessed.

“Bullshit. That’s what the other guy said.”

“What other guy?”

“The ‘post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior’ that promised he’d help us. He had a plan, too. It failed. And he’s dead now. Just like everyone I ever knew.”

He wanted to hang his head. Instead, he looked her in the eye, “Erica. You will be safe with me. I’m different.”

“That’s what he said. And he was way better than you.”

“Erica, I’m ashamed to say, but the world is full of frauds claiming to do what I do. They look the part. They promise to help. Then they take advantage of people. Good people like your family and friends. Chances are he snuck off as soon as the truck showed up.”

“No, I saw him. He was dragged into the truck. He screamed louder than the others. They must have tortured him. He was real and he couldn’t help. No one could. They walked right through the defenses and destroyed everything.”

He held her tighter as she began to sob again. Was this her? The real Erica? He felt as if this was the girl worth saving, not the one who lashed out in self-defense. She was vulnerable and hurt. How could he put her in harm’s way? And the boys? They didn’t deserve to be pulled from a basic, but safe existence only to be placed in a town that was in the crosshairs of merciless killers.

Jerry thought of Logan. He didn’t like the man, but at least New Hope stood a chance if he was still there. Maybe they had an even better chance with him than if he was aiding the people.

He placed his hand on Erica’s cheek and guided her gaze to meet his own. “Erica, we can go somewhere else. We can. The town is a ways off the road and there’s a good chance help is already there.”

She looked at him, smiled and sputtered through the tears. She put her hand on his.

“We’ll turn around,” he said. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

She smiled and nodded. He helped her stand and walked her to the ladder. She took each step with caution; the focus helped her to stop shaking. Looking back up at him, she smiled, “You’re right, you are different than Logan.”

He had matched her smile, but it vanished quickly.

“Logan?”

“That was his name.”

“Get in the coach. We’re going to New Hope.”

He expected anger to return, but it was fear in her eyes.

“But, you just said …”

“Erica, Logan is alive. The people of that town are going to die if we don’t help.”

She was silent as the truth of the events at Vita Nova sunk in.

“Don’t you see?” Jerry asked. “He let them in.”
 

She grabbed his wrists and squeezed. She shook him as she began to swear and curse Logan. The violent reaction threatened to pull him from the roof.

“That bastard!”

“Erica, get down.”

“I’m going to kill him!”

“You’re going to make us both fall.”

She stopped shaking his arms but did not relax her grip.

The scuffle drew the boys back to the base of the ladder.

“Is she okay?” Trent yelled up.

“Alex, Trent, help her down and take her inside. Calm her down. Get her a drink. Don’t let her have a gun.”

“Is she that mad at you?” Alex asked.

“Just do it.”

Alex took a step on the ladder and helped pull Erica to the ground. The boys tried to calm her as she swore at each of them.

Jerry turned to study the rig through the binoculars. He scanned the behemoth for weaknesses. He saw a man with white hair looking back.

TWENTY-ONE

“It doesn’t look too serious. The ointment should stave off infection,” said the town doctor as she finished bandaging Logan’s knife wound. “I’m not sure how to treat that, though,” she added, pointing to Sarah’s grasp of Logan’s hand.

Sarah blushed, but did not let go of the warrior’s hand.

The doctor smiled and left the two of them alone.

Logan smiled at Sarah. She smiled back and leaned in close; her lips parted.
 

The door to the clinic flew open and struck the wall behind it.

“Sarah! Princess! Are you all right?”

Sarah dropped Logan’s hand and hugged her father. “I’m fine, Daddy. Logan protected me.”

“What happened out there?”

Logan pulled his shirt over his bandaged torso. “We ran into a couple of the major’s men.”

“But we stopped them before they could get away. They’re not going to be able to tell him anything.”

“But the major will be suspicious when they don’t report back.” Logan stood with visible pain.

Sarah put her hand on his shoulder to steady him. The mayor noticed the tenderness. He could see what was happening between the two. He approved. “How much time do we have?”

“Not much. We’ll have to work faster.”

“I’ll let the town know. Just tell us what you need and we’ll make it happen.”

The mayor turned to leave, but stopped. “And, Logan. Thank you. You’re a good man.” He smiled at his daughter and left.

Sarah smiled at Logan and put her hand back in his. “I think Daddy approves.”

Logan smiled.

“How hurt are you? Exactly?” Sarah leaned in and kissed him. He kissed back.

TWENTY-TWO

“What are you going to do?”

He shoved past her and hit the home theater switch. A bracket lowered his arsenal. He moved frantically.

“I may be able to stop them here.” He grabbed the largest rifle from the rack and climbed back onto the roof. Red tape marked an ammo clip as tracer rounds; he slapped the clip into the Barrett .50 caliber rifle and propped it up on the bipod.

Peering through the scope, he saw the heightened activity at the rig. The white-haired man barked orders; his men responded.

Striking a fuel tank with a tracer round should cause a critical explosion. The distance was extreme and he questioned whether the .50 caliber round would even penetrate the armor they had placed around it. Plus, the Silver Lining was shaking.

He slapped the roof. “Be still in there!”

“She won’t stop jumping,” was the response.

“Or swearing,” was the other.

“Erica! Please sit down. I’m trying to shoot the bastards.”

The rustling stopped and the coach steadied itself.

Scanning the rest of the truck, he searched for another target. The scope crossed the trailer mounted to the outside rear of the rig. Its plating wasn’t as thick. The walls weren’t even solid. They were grated, like a livestock hauler.