To Steal a March (Surviving the Fall 11)

“Where?!” Sarah’s voice rose in volume and the man inside the truck rapped on the glass and shouted something unintelligible.

“I don’t know.” Dianne whispered, still trying to look around to see where they were going even as she blindly felt for empty casings. She felt Josie’s small hands in hers, pressing brass into Dianne’s fingers. She kissed her daughter as tears welled at the corners of her eyes and then tossed the casings over the side. “I don’t know. Just keep tossing, okay?”

They wound around the outer edge of the city, traveling no more than twenty or so miles an hour. The journey lasted several more minutes, and by the time the vehicles began to slow to a stop, Sarah had to lean over and punch Dianne in the arm to get her to stop tossing brass onto the ground.

“Dianne!” Sarah hissed at her and Dianne shook her head in confusion. She had been lost in her own thoughts, speculating and wondering about what would happen next. She looked around as the truck’s brakes whined and the engine coughed and sputtered before finally dying.

The closest homes and stores were a good half mile away, past scattered trees and wide-open fields. Old, rusted-out fences outlined three squares in the nearby fields and the once-trimmed grass was completely overgrown. Vines pulled and tugged at the bleachers near the fences, working with the never ending cycles of sun and rain to splinter the wood and wrap around the metal frames. A dilapidated one-story wooden building stood off from the fields, the lettering above the front door too faded to read in the darkness, though there was a glimmer of light through the cracks in the boards covering the windows.

“We’re out at the edge of town. Isn’t this where the old baseball fields used to be?” Dianne leaned in close to Sarah and whispered to her.

“Yeah, before they moved to the new ones closer in. You think they took over the old community center?”

“Why yes. Yes we did.” The voice came from near the front of the truck and both women turned in their seats to see the origin. The man in the red shirt was leaning up against the front of the vehicle, one hand resting on a holster on his hip while the other fished a cigarette out of his front pocket. “After you… idiots trashed our base we had to construct a new one.” He pulled the cigarette out, stuck it in his mouth and lit it. “Of course, we barely got started so there’s plenty of work left for you two. And your little ones.”

The men who had been riding in the truck walked around to the back and opened the bed, then began pulling boxes of supplies out. “Who are you?” Dianne asked, unable to keep a look of pure hatred off of her face. Her tone matched her expression, but the man in the red shirt chuckled as he exhaled a plume of smoke, amused by her anger.

“Kenneth Nealson.” He crossed one leg in front of the other and extended his arms in a mock curtsy. “Parolee and your new boss.” His smile turned cruel as the last of the boxes were pulled from the back of the truck. “Get ‘em out, get ‘em chained and put ‘em with the rest.” His voice raised as he spoke, and Dianne and Sarah turned to look on the other side of the truck, realizing that he was speaking to more than just them.

“The rules around here have changed since you destroyed our little gas and trading operation.” Four other people were standing out near the truck, bound together by ankle chains as they moved the boxes from the ground into the nearby building. They looked at Dianne, Sarah and the two children with sympathetic expressions as Kenneth continued. “Now there’s just one rule: you work or you die.”

***

The initial energy felt by Jason, Tina and Mark as they discovered the trail of brass breadcrumbs only took a few hours to wane. Jason was the primary reason why they had to slow down, though it wasn’t entirely his decision. Tina was more than slightly concerned about his injury and forced him to slow down to a moderate walking pace as they trudged along the paved road.

Discarded brass was still appearing on the ground at short intervals and the change of road type and full appearance of the sun meant that it was much easier to spot. They didn’t bother picking up any of the brass and Mark had even emptied his pockets of the few pieces he had collected before, tired of the sharp edges digging through and poking him in the leg.

The weather turned pleasant within an hour of sunrise and they had unzipped their jackets, grateful for another brief respite from the bitter cold that had intermittently plagued the region. Comfortable warmth soon turned to sweat, though, forcing them to slow down even further as they struggled to mix comfort with security and the desire to find their missing family and friends as soon as possible.

It wasn’t until just after noon that they reached the edge of town and, at that point, Tina veered suddenly off of the road to sit down on the front porch of a nearby home. Jason and Mark, too tired to argue, joined her and the three sat in silence as they dug through their packs and divvied up some of the few supplies they had scrounged from the house. Deep, panting breaths soon turned slower and more regular as they gulped water and tore into packaged energy bars and it wasn’t long before Tina spoke.

“How much farther do you think they went?”

The question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, but Mark was the first to respond. “I kind of figured they would go back to the gas station. You all talked about their setup there.”

“Like I said,” Jason cleared his throat and took another sip of water, “we did a number on that place. We’re heading in the wrong direction to be headed there so they must have picked somewhere else.”

“Yeah, but where?” Mark finished his bottle of water and put it down on the porch. “The trail of casings have us going around the edge of town but who knows how far it’ll go?” The volume and pitch of Mark’s voice was steadily rising until Tina clamped a hand down on his shoulder, holding him firmly in place.

“Mark. Take a breath.” He looked over at her and she continued. “I know you’re scared. I know you don’t want to admit that you’re scared. That’s okay. You don’t have to. I’m scared too, though. So’s Jason. So’s Sarah, your mom, Jacob and Josie. They’re all scared more than we are. But we’re going to find them, okay?” Tina’s voice was soothing, chasing away the fear and trepidation in Mark’s mind with reassurance and a sense of confidence.

“Best get back to it.” Jason took a long breath, sighed deeply and slowly stood to his feet. Mark and Tina followed, and the three headed back to the road, picking up on the trail of casings and continuing on.

As the trio settled into their walking pattern—Jason on the left side of the street, Mark in the middle and Tina on the right—they expected to be continuing on for quite a while. When Mark stopped in his tracks not ten minutes after they had left the porch, both Tina and Jason were confused.

“Mark?” Tina looked at him, then looked in the direction he was staring. Down the road, on the right, were a series of wide fields. A couple of farms with small houses and barns sat off in the middle of them, and beyond them—just barely visible to her—was the old community center and baseball fields.

“Someone’s down there.”

Jason raised his rifle and peered down the scope as he knelt down to steady his aim. “Where?”

“That building down there, off to the right a bit.”

“He’s talking about the community center—the abandoned one.”

“Mm. I don’t—wait. Holy Toledo, you weren’t kidding.” Jason shook his head. “What I wouldn’t give to have your eyes. I can barely make anything out even with this optic.”

Tina knelt down as well and squinted as she looked through her 4x optic. There were a collection of vehicles parked in a ring out in front of the building and the shapes of more than a few people moving around outside the brown building. Details beyond that were impossible to make out, but it was obvious to all of them what they were seeing.