The Burning Fields (Surviving the Fall 5)

Dianne dropped the roll of razor wire and the staple gun to the ground and grabbed the rifle off of her back. Next to her Mark did the same thing and she glanced at him as they both started running back to the house. “Get them inside through the back door then I want you providing overwatch from upstairs. Got it?”

Mark nodded and motioned for his brother and sister to follow him. Dianne could hear the vehicle as well, though it wasn’t from the direction she would have expected. Instead of driving from the nearby town of Ellisville towards the house it was driving from the opposite direction towards the house, as though it had come from somewhere farther off in the country. The roads in that direction were rough and winding and only someone with knowledge of the area—or an extremely up-to-date map—could have navigated their way in from any other major areas.

As Dianne rounded the house she heard the sound of the engine growing louder as the driver accelerated. The dirt road connected to the driveway ran in front of the Waters’ property before going around the side. It was up the side she heard the engine as it continued growing louder before slowly getting quieter. A quiet squeal was audible and the engine shifted down, reducing the noise as the vehicle decelerated. Bits of white paint were visible through the thick stand of trees though they weren’t moving.

Dianne ran to the edge of the woods in front of the house and turned back. One of the upstairs windows was open and she could see a form standing at it, rifle in hand. She waved to Mark and he waved back, then she pointed at the driveway to indicate where she was going next. She walked parallel with the driveway, keeping to the trees both for camouflage and to avoid the spiked boards sitting out on the dirt. She was near to the gate when she heard the sound of the engine rev up again. The vehicle appeared beyond the gate a few seconds later, visible in between the trunks of the trees.

It was a large white pickup, covered in dirt and dents and rolling slowly down the dirt path towards the gate. From her position Dianne couldn’t make out how many people were in the cab but the back of the truck looked to be filled with boxes and covered containers. She half-expected the truck to accelerate and plow through the gate but it slowed to a stop instead. The truck shuddered slightly as the driver shifted into park and Dianne heard the click of a door opening on the driver’s side of the truck, opposite the side of the driveway where she was hiding.

Dianne shifted over towards the driveway by a few feet, keeping low to the ground and hiding herself behind trees. She leaned out to see who had gotten out of the truck when she caught sight of the figure. It was an older man wearing a jacket with tufts of white hair poking out from underneath a worn baseball cap. The man moved slowly, looking around in all directions as he kept a firm hold on the pistol in his right hand.

The man stopped at the gate and Dianne watched as he reached for the thick chain and padlock. He held it and turned the lock over a few times before dropping it and sighing. There were enough tree branches between Dianne and the man that she couldn’t make out who he was but she decided that—given that he was the only one out of the car—she needed to make

her move.

“Hey!” Dianne ran through the woods to the edge of the driveway and pressed her body up against a thick oak tree that was a few feet away from the gate. “You at the truck! Drop the gun and put your hands up!” Dianne swung her rifle around and braced her shoulder against the tree, exposing as little of herself as possible. She had expected to see the man standing in front of the truck, surprised by her aggressiveness but instead she saw him ducking out of sight behind the front of his truck. Before she could say anything else he raised his pistol and fired three times towards her.

Each shot wildly missed its mark and Dianne immediately returned fire, dropping down as she did in order to present a moving target to her opponent. Her bullets ricocheted off of the gate and penetrated through the thin sheet metal of the edge of the truck’s hood and she heard the man yell as he retreated farther behind the vehicle.

“Get down, Sarah! Get down!” The man’s voice was familiar to Dianne, though it took her several seconds to place it. When she did she immediately lowered her rifle and shouted at the man.

“Jason? Jason Statler? Is that you?” There was a long moment of silence before Dianne heard a reply.

“Dianne? What the hell do you think you’re doing, shooting at us?” The man coughed loudly as he talked before cautiously peeking over the hood of the truck. Dianne poked her head out and waved sheepishly at Jason before stepping out onto the driveway.

“Jason!” Dianne shook her head and smiled at the man. “You are a shit shot. You know that, right?”

Jason coughed again as he walked towards the gate. “You haven’t missed your range days by the looks of it.”

Dianne swung her leg over the gate and hopped onto the opposite side. She grabbed Jason’s arms as if to reassure herself that he was real and smiled again. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Dianne embraced Jason in a hug that nearly toppled the older man over. A second later Dianne heard the door to the truck open and another figure, more lively than Jason, jumped out. “Dianne? You’re still alive!”

Dianne turned and ran over to Sarah Statler. She, like her husband, was in her early sixties but still active and as lively as she had been when she was twenty. Jason’s health had diminished over the years but that fact never seemed to keep Sarah from being as vibrant and chipper as she had when the pair had first been married.

“Of course I’m still alive!” Dianne squeezed Sarah tight in a hug as Sarah’s husband came walking over. Dianne stepped back, wearing an ear-to-ear grin as she looked at her friends before giving them each another hug. “You two have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“You have no idea how glad I am you missed me.” Jason rubbed one of the holes in the hood of the truck where one of Dianne’s shots had penetrated through the metal. “The engine’s still running so I guess you didn’t hit anything vital there, either.”

“Oh, be quiet!” Sarah thumped her husband’s back before looking at Dianne. “How are the children? And Rick?”

The mention of her husband dimmed Dianne’s overwhelming happiness and Sarah suddenly looked concerned at Dianne’s abrupt change in attitude. “What’s the matter, D?”

Dianne patted Sarah and Jason on the arms and nodded towards their truck. “Get in and I’ll open the gate and clear the drive for you. Let’s get out of sight of the road and into the house where we can talk.”

Chapter 9

Eight days after the event

London, England

“This way. Quickly!” A small child, a girl, follows her father and mother. The three run swiftly down cobblestone streets, sticking to the shadows and pressing themselves up against the sides of buildings anytime they hear the slightest movement. The father holds his finger to his lips as he wraps his arm around his wife who, in turn, pulls their daughter close to her. “Keep very quiet.” The man whispers to his wife and she relays the message to their little girl.

After running out of food the family tried to beg, borrow and steal what they could from local corner shops. Unfortunately the shops had already been ravaged by other survivors and the family was left with no other choice but seek out what the flyers taped to the lampposts in their neighborhood called “Emergency Services Food Relief.” The program was crude but effective. By turning certain restaurants in neighborhoods into food distribution points the government has come up with a way to quickly get supplies to where they are needed without dealing with the issues caused by mass transportation and delivery.

“Across the street now. And hurry!” The father pushes his wife and child ahead as he turns to locate the source of a noise behind. Nothing is immediately visible so he follows them as they head down an alley. Distant shouts and screams are accompanied by the occasional burst of gunfire, though most of the more violent noises seem to be coming from a fair distance away.

“Mama, I’m hungry.” The little girl tugs on her mother’s coat and whispers softly.