Once I'd limped a little, the pain dulled. I glanced at my temporary partner, Rebecca, and assessed her gear. She carried a shortened AR-15 lighter, more convenient at close and mid range, though the accuracy of a barrel like that was, of course, lacking. A light ballistic vest and standard loadout. It was obvious she wasn't used to wearing this kind of gear; exhaustion and a kind of bitterness showed clearly on her face.
"See anything interesting?" Rebecca asked, looking at me with eyes full of contempt.
"You shouldn't act like that. I was polite, and I suggest you show some manners too," I replied. I wasn't obligated to put up with her attitude.
"Oh, please. You're the last person who should lecture me about manners, talking through that mask. I can barely hear you," Rebecca snapped.
I reminded myself to look for some kind of voice amplifier and stick it onto the mask. Checking the time, I saw I still had some filter life left. We moved along the cracked asphalt toward the barricade, and I kept scanning our surroundings. It felt like someone was watching us and I trusted my instincts.
"You're lucky you didn't step on a mine. That would've been much simpler," Rebecca said.
"It'd be a lot simpler if you kept your mouth shut," I answered.
"Tch. Men," she muttered, turning away.
Starting an argument when danger could be nearby over something so trivial was stupid. Without a word, I quickly jogged over to the overturned cars and pressed myself against the metal, peeking around the side. I clearly saw tire tracks. Someone had driven here and turned around. Had they left already or were they still close? I scanned the tree line, trying to catch any movement deep in the woods.
"Buddy, search," I said.
"Why'd you suddenly bolt?" Rebecca asked.
"Shut up. Someone could be here."
Her expression changed, and she pressed herself against the car as well. I slowly moved toward the forest. Buddy picked up a scent and quickened his pace, and I followed him. We reached my car, and Buddy looked toward the town, as if pointing out the direction the strangers had gone.
I walked around the vehicle and noticed something lying near the driver's door. Crouching down and pretending to examine a possible firing position, I carefully studied the paper. There was no trap it was a note. I pocketed it and scanned the area once more, listening to every sound.
"Someone was here recently. And they've already left," I said.
"Raiders," Rebecca muttered darkly.
"I need to move my car," I said.
"That's your problem. Better yet, just get in and drive away," Rebecca replied.
"He still owes me for saving him," I said.
"Fine. There's a narrow road through the woods we keep it for our vehicles. I'll show you," she said.
I went to get the battery and started the car. We drove away from the barricade and soon turned off the main road onto a forest trail. After a short distance, she signaled for me to stop. Rebecca got out, walked carefully in a straight line, crouched low, and began studying the ground. She brushed away leaves and did something there.
"Explosives. A couple of them, with sensors," Rebecca said when she returned.
Back at the base, I drove the car inside and waited until she left. Then I pulled out the note.
Friend, if you're reading this, you should be more careful around them. They only pretend to be kind. I lead a group of survivors. I request a meeting. One o'clock, near the local church.
I crumpled the paper and set it aside. Going there was risky but what would be the point of killing me? What would that give them? They wouldn't get my weapons anyway, and the others wouldn't care. Most likely, the note was from so-called raiders, but I was still weighing whether it was worth killing them. On one hand, I could get weapons. On the other, there was no guarantee I'd survive. I was a decent shot, but one man against an inexperienced group was still a roulette live or die. Going in without any backup would be irrational.
Deciding to leave it until tomorrow, I headed inside, grabbing a ration on the way.
*******************************
A knock.
The sharp sound tore me from sleep. Opening my eyes, I saw Rebecca standing in the doorway. I'd slept in the room she'd shown me the night before.
"I made breakfast," she said.
I glanced at the clock seven in the morning and got up, groaning softly as pain shot through my shin. Limping slightly, I went to wash up. Downstairs, I took off my mask and started eating the simple meal. Richard was already at the table, along with a child I hadn't seen before. The boy looked about ten and stared at me, trying to figure out who I was and why I was in their house.
"Why do you wear a mask?" the boy asked.
"For personal reasons," I replied.
"Brian, what did I tell you? We eat quietly at the table," Rebecca said.
I finished my food quickly and put the mask back on.
"So," Richard said tiredly, "have you thought about what I said? Will you help me?"
"I would've agreed," I said, "but I'm being realistic about my abilities. How many of them are there?"
"I don't know for sure, but at least thirty," the old man replied.
"And if there's a chance to negotiate?"
"No. It's either this or nothing."
Come on, Victor. Fight your morality. Three shots and it's over. But could I really pull the trigger on a family? No. I couldn't. It's much easier to be a bastard people like that have fewer doubts and less conscience.
"Then I'll have to refuse. I'm not ready to take that kind of risk," I said. Yes, the trip might turn out to be pointless but better pointless than final.
"Come with me. I want to show you something. You might change your mind," Richard said, getting to his feet.
I followed him to a warehouse. He flipped a switch, and the lights came on. We stood in a cold room that looked like a small hangar, and one thing immediately made me stop. In the center stood an armored personnel carrier with a mounted machine-gun turret. Fully enclosed turret. An 8×8 chassis. Serious hardware.
*image*
"An AVG-20 armored personnel carrier," Richard said. "Infantry vehicle. Designed in Switzerland, produced in Canada for the Marine Corps. This one's a prototype. Decommissioned, bought by me at an auction. Old machine lots of problems. The engine was shot, part of the mechanics too. But I fixed it, got it running. Then I managed to acquire a machine gun and mount it. It's fully operational. There's just one problem I don't have fuel."
I stared at the vehicle for a long time, even walked around it, feeling the thought grow inside me a very real chance. Wiping out even a large group of people in this thing wouldn't be a problem, assuming they didn't have heavy weapons.
"I'm guessing getting fuel won't be easy," I said.
"Those animals drained every local gas station," the old man replied. "But I found out where they're storing it. All we have to do is take it."
"And I'm the one who's supposed to do that."
"I can't go," Richard said. "They'd recognize me. And I won't leave Rebecca and my grandson alone."
"I'll need explosives," I said.
"No problem. You'll have everything," he answered.
We prepped the pickup for the trip and loaded a five-hundred-liter tank into the bed. Covered it with a tarp so it wouldn't stand out just a small bump on top.
I placed a couple dozen explosive charges on the passenger-side floor and stared at them, thoughtfully. A strange kind of suicide. If this worked and I filled the APC with fuel, it would become a walking bomb.
After driving a bit along the dusty road, I stopped and looked at the map where the old man had marked the fuel location. A heavy choice and far too little information. I only knew one side of the conflict, not the other. Were these really the people who killed his son, or was he just looking for someone anyone to take revenge on? Would he betray me in the end?
A choice. Too bad this wasn't a game where I could pause, make a save, and reload. No. There would be no do-over.
Stopping about a kilometer from the church, I picked a spot with a clear view of the building. I took out my rifle its scope had better magnification than binoculars. The meeting time wasn't far off, and they were probably already there. One thing I noticed immediately: at the very top, in one of the windows, a shadow slowly flickered.
I didn't know whether they believed in God or whether they'd shoot me on sight.
I highly doubted it.
*image*