Alex shed his bloodied clothes and changed into something that was less Halloween and more Saturday afternoon. He eyeballed the shower but knew there wasn’t enough time. And his recent actions had led him to a subconscious, self-inflicting punishment of denial. I don’t deserve it.
Packing was simple, since his only possessions were the clothes he had on his back and the sack of materials the sentries had dropped off the day before from his stay in Wyoming. Among those belongings were a pair of clothes and the book Todd had meant to give him the day Gordon showed up. The collection of Ernest Hemingway’s short stories was a gift he never should have received. He stuffed it back into his sack and slung it over his shoulder.
Alex did one final scan of the house, making sure there wasn’t anything useful that was left behind, when he came across Meeko’s room. The door was cracked open slightly, and Alex could hear the faint sobs coming from inside. He gently pushed the door open, and Meeko was sitting on his bed with the laptop he used to communicate with Alex when he was in Wyoming.
The boy looked up at him with tear-streaked eyes and started sobbing even harder. Alex set his gear down and embraced the boy in a hug.
“I’m sorry,” Meeko cried, burying his face into Alex’s shoulder.
Alex cradled the back of the boy’s head. “Sorry for what?”
“It was my fault you left. It was my fault you had to go away. I’m s-sorry, Alex. It’s m-my fault.”
All the self-pity bullshit Alex had wallowed in over the past twenty-four hours completely disappeared. Of all the things for Meeko to tell him, of all the reasons for the boy to be upset, he chose the fact that he thought he’d let Alex down. Alex peeled Meeko off his shoulder so he could look the boy in the eye when he spoke to him. “You listen to me. None of this, and I mean absolutely none, is your fault. So whatever you’re beating yourself up for ends right now.” Meeko nodded, and Alex wiped his thumb under Meeko’s left eye, removing a tear and leaving a brown smudge from the filth on his hands. He picked up the laptop from Meeko’s lap and flipped it over in his hands.
“I wanted to keep it,” Meeko said, sniffling and wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve. “I may not get the chance to ever have one again. I thought they were going to come and take it from me, but after last night…” Meeko trailed off. Alex handed it back to him, and the boy gave a slight smile.
“We’re leaving in a few minutes, so make sure you have everything you need,” Alex said then kissed the top of Meeko’s head.
“Alex!”
Alex jumped from the bed and ran to the front door, where Harper almost keeled over from the sprint up the hill. “What’s wrong?” Alex asked.
“The radio… Sentries are coming…”
“Meeko, head down to the trucks now!”
Meeko rushed past him and pumped his little legs as hard as they would go. Alex wasn’t far behind, helping Harper back down the hill where the rest of the community members waited for Alex’s instructions. A quiet look of panic had spread. The wide eyes, slack jaws, and twitching fingers expelled the nervous energy.
Alex jogged over to the front gate. It was wide enough for two sentry vehicles to pass through at the same time. He turned around, looking at the point of view from the entrance down Main Street. Once the sentries came through, they’d most likely spread out to the housing unit, vehicle hangar, and meal station.
The water station provided a clear line of sight to Main Street’s entrance, and the thick stone walls surrounding the well provided good protection for at least two men to provide blanket cover fire. The factory was adjacent to the front gate on the left-hand side and extended out past the front gate. A few dirty windows lined the back, where he and another three or four with rifles could post up in an advantageous area. If Alex could cut the convoy entering in half, then Main Street would act as a perfect ambush location.
Alex pulled Harper from the crowd and off to the side. He kept his voice low so the others couldn’t hear. “Did they give a count of how many were coming?”
The sweat from Harper’s face flung off his cheeks as he shook his head. “No.”
“What about their location? How far out are they?”
“Ten miles.”
Including Alex, there were thirty-eight members in the community. If it was just one unit, then there would be twelve sentries in four vehicles, which was manageable. If it was anything more than that, they’d become overrun.
“All right, everyone! Listen up!” Alex said.
The crowd’s roar of whispers ended, and they gathered around Alex. Their frail bodies bumped into one another, bony shoulders poking their neighbors, trying not to let the fear and apprehension show in the slight spasms of nervous energy.
“Sentries are headed our way. We don’t know how many are going to show up, but the moment they find out what happened to their partners, we’re going to be in trouble. Who here knows how to handle a weapon?”
A total of eleven arms went up, two of which were the shy, timid hands of Donna and Mike. Donna was older, in her late fifties, with terrible cataracts. If she stayed, she wouldn’t be able to hit the dirt underneath her feet. Mike was around the same age but with terrible arthritis. Alex wasn’t even sure if he could squeeze the trigger.
Alex walked over and handed Donna the AR-15 rifle. “Do you know how to use this?” She shook her head. “All right, well, it’s easy enough. In fact”—Alex took a few steps back and waved his hands, motioning everyone to gather around—“I want everyone to see this!”
Alex ejected the magazine and pulled the charging handle back to eject the round still in the chamber. He double-checked to make sure it was empty then grabbed an empty magazine for the demonstration. “Listen up! Anyone who has never handled this type of weapon before, I want you to pay close attention, because we’re only going to have time to do this once, and if those of us who are staying behind can’t fend off the sentries who are coming, you’ll need to know how to use this.”
It wasn’t the most tactful speech he’d ever given, but time was of the essence. There wasn’t room for mollycoddling anymore. If you didn’t know how to protect yourself, you would die.
“Rule number one, you don’t aim at anything you don’t plan on killing. Rule number two, you keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to squeeze it. When you hold the rifle, keep the stock snug against your shoulder and do NOT put your eye against the scope.” He flipped the rifle to its side, exposing the safety lever and the magazine ejector button. “Make sure your safety is off, and once you’re out of ammo, this slide here will open up and expose the chamber like this,” Alex again pulled the charging handle back so they could see. “Push this button here, and it will eject the magazine, then when you put in a new one, shove it in until you hear it click. This will snap the charging handle back into place, and you’re ready to fire. If the gun jams, try pushing this button here, which will push any rounds that are stuck forward.”
Each face studied the rifle with anxious eyes. Alex handed the rifle to Donna, who held took it awkwardly at first but then carried it at her side, where she looked more comfortable.
Alex bent down to Meeko’s level and placed both hands around the boy’s shoulders. “I need you to help me out, okay, punk?” Meeko nodded quickly, trying to hide the nervousness his eyes betrayed. “It’s your job to take everyone who’s not staying as deep into the woods as you can. Do you remember that river I showed you when you first came here?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” Meeko answered.
“Well, that’s where I want you to go.”
Meeko gave a firmer nod, and Alex ruffled the mess of curls on his head.
“All right,” Alex said. “Mike and Donna, you two take a duffel bag of rifles and ammo. If we can’t hold the sentries off, then the woods will be the first place they search, but you should have a nice head start.”
The lump in Donna’s throat caught when she gave a whispered, “Okay,” and Mike wouldn’t stop massaging his hands. After some quick rearranging, the truck was loaded down with enough food and water to last everyone in the group at least six days, which would at least get them into southern Wyoming.
Before Donna left, Alex pulled her aside. “Meeko will know where to go. Just follow him, okay?” Alex could see the slight tremor that vibrated her entire body as she nodded. Alex placed his hand on her shoulder, and he felt the tremors ease. “If one of us doesn’t come and find you in the next hour, then you take everyone northwest. Wyoming should be clear of sentries, but you have to get there as quickly as possible.”
Donna nodded, adjusting the rifle in her arms, then started her trek up to the forest with the rest of the community members. Meeko was the last one to leave, and only after he wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and squeezed as hard as he could. Alex felt the boy’s wet face soak his shirt. He picked Meeko up and returned the hug.
“I’ll see you soon,” Alex said then set Meeko down and watched the boy catch up to the other community members heading toward the forest. Alex waited a moment before addressing those who stayed behind. If things turned south, then this was the last time he would see the boy.
The nine thin faces waiting on Alex were the only things separating the invading sentries and keeping the rest of the community alive. Harper, whom Alex was pretty sure lied about using a weapon, was stationed at the factory and given an AR-15 along with six fully loaded magazines of ammo, Kevlar, and grenades.
Joining Harper in the factory were Chris, Lilly, and Iris, who had the same gear. Alex instructed the four of them to remain quiet and unseen until the firing started. Jimmy, Frank, and Jean would be joining Alex at the front gate, dressed in sentry uniforms to greet their unwanted guests. Luckily, there were enough spare uniforms for them not to have to peel any off the dead sentries Alex had killed the night before.
Mick and Connor were the only other individuals in the group who had any expert background in handling a weapon. Connor did a stint in the Marines twenty years ago, and Mick had spent most of his youth hunting, so Alex stationed the two of them behind the well, wielding two sniper rifles and enough ammo for them to camp there all day.
Harper parked one of the sentry trucks in the pathway of the community’s gate, narrowing the funnel for the sentries to enter. From there, Alex could disable one of the vehicles, cutting the caravan in half and trapping them in a kill box, where they’d be surrounded. Alex popped the hood and dumped a smoke grenade into the engine to add to the ruse. The bigger the distraction, the easier it would be to get the first two cars to stop.
With the truck in position and everyone armed, Alex did one final run-through. “All right, everyone, let’s do a quick communication check to make sure we’re all on the same frequency. Check one.”
Everyone gave a thumbs-up with a verbal “copy” so Alex could make sure he could hear everyone else. “Good,” he said. “No matter how many trucks arrive, I’m only letting in two. Once those first two enter, I’ll disable the third with a grenade to block the rest of the front entrance. Harper, Lilly, Chris, Iris, that’s when you four open fire from the factory windows on anyone who is still outside. Got it?”
Alex received a volley of nervous nods and shaky okays. “Mick and Connor, once the grenade goes off, you open fire on any sentry trapped on Main Street. They’ll use their trucks as cover, so make sure you concentrate fire on the windows. That’ll be the weak point. Jimmy, Frank, Jean, and I will move to the sentry housing for cover, giving you two a clear line of sight. Our biggest advantage right now, no matter how many sentries show up, will be our element of surprise. If things turn south, then I want everyone to hightail it to the forest and meet up with the others. If we do our job right, then the remaining sentries won’t have the resources to try and follow.”
The air was thick with nerves. Alex knew that uncertainty was the most dangerous of parasites. It would drain you physically and mentally, until there wasn’t anything left. And with every second that passed, the parasite grew, turning the fears in your head into unbeatable, monstrous titans.
“I know everyone here understands what we’re up against,” Alex said. “But if we stick to the plan, we will make it out of here alive. The world is changing. The Coalition is on its heels. Now, let’s do what we have to and be done with it.”
The group dispersed, and Alex hustled up to the front gate with a pair of binoculars. He scanned the rolling hills until he came across a caravan kicking up dust and heading their way.
Alex popped another smoke grenade into the engine of the truck, which forced the gray plume higher into the blue Kansas sky. And almost on cue, the sentry’s radio at the front station blew static, which was immediately replaced by a panic-stricken Class 2 on the other end. “Community 0183, we’re seeing a lot of smoke coming from your location. What’s going on over there?”
Alex picked up the receiver, took a breath, and then pressed the side button to speak. “Copy that. We ran into some engine trouble on one of our perimeter checks this morning after roll call. We managed to make it back to the gate before it started smoking.”
“Roger that, 0183. We have a few mechanics with us who can take a look at it.”
“Much appreciated.”
Alex set the receiver down and flicked the safety lever off the AR-15. His fingers tapped the grooves of the replacement magazines and counted the four grenades around his belt. Alex rotated his right shoulder, shifting the Kevlar and rifle strap. Alex noticed Jimmy’s white-knuckled grip on the rifle in his hands. “Hey,” Alex said. Jimmy quickly diverted his gaze from the fields to Alex. “We’ll make it.”
A drip of sweat rolled off the tip of Jimmy’s nose as he gave a nervous nod. Alex clicked his radio on. “The caravan heading our way is eight vehicles strong, so the plan stays as is. The third truck that comes in will be our road block. Mick and Connor, once that grenade goes off, you need to lay down as much fire as you can.”
“Copy that, Alex,” Mick said.
Jean and Frank fidgeted awkwardly in their sentry uniforms at the housing entrance. It was odd to see them dressed in the uniforms they had loathed for so long. And, once again, Alex found himself playing the part of operative, cloaked under a shroud of deceit but free of the hesitation and regret that plagued him before.
Regardless, the nerves of war were still present. Alex noticed the whiteness of his own knuckles and eased his grip. A stiff wind blew the smoke barreling from the truck’s engine into Alex’s face, briefly blinding and choking him until it changed direction. When the smoke finally cleared, the first truck came to a stop at the front gate.
Per protocol, the Class 2 rode in the first truck. The trucks, along with the faces inside, were covered in dust and blood. The sentries had already seen action, which meant they were probably low on ammo. The Class 2 nodded to the disabled vehicle at the entrance. “You guys know what happened to it?”
Images from the night before flashed in Alex’s mind. The sentries’ dead bodies, covered in blood. That distinct smell of sweat and copper wasn’t something he was ever going to be able to get rid of.
“Hey,” the Class 2 said, “you all right?”
Alex snapped out of his stupor. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Alex motioned over to the sentry housing where Frank, Jean, and Jimmy stood sheepishly by the door. “Our vehicle hangar’s full right now, but you can have your men park just along Main Street.”
The Class 2 nodded and unknowingly pulled into the death trap waiting for him. The trucks were lined ten feet apart, and Alex pulled off one of the grenades from his belt and concealed it in his fist as the second truck rolled through. Alex drummed his fingers nervously on the side of the grenade. Eight feet. He could see the eyes of the sentry driving the third truck lock on him. Five feet. The driver squinted at him, a look of realization on his face as Alex realized he’d seen that sentry before. Three feet. The driver slowed down still a few feet away, but before he could stop completely, Alex released his grip on the grenade, triggering the firing mechanism, and tossed it under the belly of the vehicle and sprinted to the cover of the housing station.
The heat from the explosion cooked Alex’s back as the undercarriage of the truck erupted, sending shrapnel into the arteries of every sentry’s legs inside. The truck’s axles collapsed and disabled the vehicle, blocking the rest of the entrance and leaving the injured sentries inside to bleed out in the smoldering wreckage.
The first two trucks that had already entered slammed on the brakes, and the sentries inside poured out of the trucks to look at the mangled steel behind them. On cue, Mick and Connor opened fire.
Alex, Jean, Frank, and Jimmy concentrated fire on the second truck, which managed to accelerate quickly enough to evade Mick and Connor’s line of fire and sped across the street by the factory. Alex pressed his hand to his left ear, attempting to drown out the gunfire that thundered around him, and used his right hand to link up his radio. “Harper! The second truck is using the factory as cover! Have Chris smoke them out!”
“What?” Harper radioed. “Alex, I can’t hear you. What’s happening over there?”
The AR-15s ejected their hot shells in rhythm with the thump, thump, thump of gunshots. The gunfire next to Alex, combined with the shots echoing over the radio, blended together in orchestrated chaos. Before Alex could repeat himself, the window next to where he was crouched shattered, and Jimmy was propelled backward.
Jimmy gulped massive breaths of air. The round hit him right in the chest, but the Kevlar made sure a bruised sternum was the worst of the injury. Alex dragged him to the back, away from the gunfire.
“Alex!” Frank said, struggling to replace a new magazine into his rifle. “It’s stuck!”
Alex ducked low and crawled along the side wall, back to the front of the building. The sentries were starting to gain some momentum in their return fire, and they redecorated the inside of the sentry housing station with bullet holes.
Continual static kept rushing into Alex’s ear. He repeatedly pressed the receiver on his radio, screaming the same message over and over. “Harper! Can you hear me? Harper!”
The answer was piercing screams, and after reloading Frank’s rifle, Harper’s voice finally came through, “The sentries are circling around back!”
“How many trucks?” Alex asked.
“Three!”
Glass, shell casings, and dirt scraped against Alex’s arms and legs as he slid on his belly to the open door and peeked around the edge to get a good look at the situation outside. The sentries had regrouped by the factory’s entrance, positioning themselves in a stronghold of defense. Once the three trucks flanked Mick and Connor from the rear, they’d be overrun.
“Frank! Jean!” Alex yelled. “I’m going to back up Mick and Connor. I need you two to cover me.”
Alex crouched low at the door, poised to sprint to the well the moment Jean and Frank opened fire. “Mick, Connor, I’m coming to you!” Alex held up his hand and counted down from five. The moment he hit one, Frank and Jean blanketed Main Street with every single bullet that remained in their magazines.
Sprays of gray ash kicked up behind Alex with each step forward as he dashed down Main Street, bullets whizzing behind him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, blocking any type of pain from his senses. He couldn’t feel the impact of his feet on the ground, or the heavy Kevlar around his body, or the rifle on his back. The only feeling was the deep thump in his chest, pumping every bit of life and energy he had left into getting to that well.
Alex dove in one final leap, crashing into the dirt next to Mick and Connor. The crack and thunder of their rifles boomed in Alex’s ear. He wedged himself right next to Connor. The well was barely wide enough for the three of them.
“I need one of your rifles, now!” Alex said. Connor exchanged his sniper rifle with the AR-15 that Alex carried. The powerful fifty-caliber rifle was the only thing they had that could pierce the sentry’s truck armor. “Where’s the ammo?”
“Left pants pocket!” Connor screamed, his face vibrating from the rifle’s recoil.
Alex clutched the ammo to his chest, which rose and fell heavily as he caught his breath. He smacked both Connor and Mick to grab their attention over the thunderstorm of gunshots. “If I can’t keep the trucks from flanking us, then you grab everyone and head for the forest.”
Alex closed his eyes, took a few quick, short breaths then sprinted to the end of Main Street, lugging the fifty-caliber rifle with him, where the advancing sentries would have to come through to flank them. A wave of gray ash flew into the air as Alex crashed to the ground, landing knee first. He immediately scoured the hills, looking for the enemy. He clicked his radio on. “Harper, anyone wounded on your end?”
“Iris got hit in the arm, but she’s alive. They have us pinned in the back of the factory.”
“Do not let them get past you, Harper, you hear me? I don’t care what you have to do. Jean, Frank, see if you can push your way to the factory for reinforcement. Mick and Connor, you two provide cover for Jean and Frank on their run.”
A series of “copy that” flooded Alex’s ear. He loaded the massive shells of ammo into the rifle and wriggled his belly on the gray ash, positioning himself for the hell heading his way. The first two trucks popped over the hill and into his crosshairs, but he couldn’t locate the third vehicle. The truck to the left bounced and shifted from the sentry’s sporadic driving and hilly terrain.
The recoil from the rifle sent a shock wave that rippled from his shoulder all the way down to his spine. The first shot went wide right. Alex cursed under his breath as the shell ejected and another bullet entered the chamber. The lack of food and continued fatigue triggered unwanted spasms in the muscles along his right shoulder and arm. A slight tremor hit his trigger finger as he realigned his shot. His whole body felt like it was falling apart.
Another shot recoiled the force of the rifle into Alex’s shoulder, causing him to wince from the pain that hit him. This time, the bullet penetrated the front windshield, killing the driver instantly and careening the sentry’s truck out of control. When Alex lined up another shot to the second truck, machine gun fire erupted behind him, and the radio waves echoed the same repetitive screams. “Alex!”
The two armored trucks that blocked the front gate were immediately rammed and shoved out of the way by the third armored truck that was supposed to be flanking them from the rear.
“Mick! Connor! Concentrate fire on that truck, now!” Alex radioed.
The second sentry truck grew closer. The ground around Alex erupted in sprays of gray ash. The sentries’ aim was getting better. Alex reloaded. The front bumper of the truck bounced into view then quickly disappeared from the scope. Another cluster of bullets hit the ground next to him, this time close enough for the dirt they kicked up to splash on the back of Alex’s leg.
Each time a different piece of the truck would come into view he squeezed the trigger, sending the massive rounds into the hood, grill, door, and front windshield, but failing to stop the speeding freight train heading right for him. No more time. Alex lifted the rifle and sprinted to the closest building on Main Street for cover, with bullets vibrating the air around his ears.
The moment his legs disappeared into the meal station’s entrance, six bullet holes decorated the doorframe, splintering the worn pieces of wood.
“Mick, Connor, you’re about to have company,” Alex said, trying to reposition himself at the meal station’s window.
“No shit!” Mick answered.
Alex shoved the barrel of the rifle through the window, shattering and scraping the glass aside from the panels and exposed himself to the chaos outside. Mick and Connor managed to seek cover on the far side of the well as the truck joined its comrades in corralling the wagons by the factory’s entrance, creating a barrier of armor.
With the amount of time the sentries had after the first grenade explosion, Alex knew they would have radioed for assistance by now, and it wouldn’t be long until reinforcements arrived. Once that happened, the community would be overrun with sentries.
“Jean, Frank, you guys fall back to the sentry housing. Mick, Connor, meet me over in the meal station. I’ll lay down cover fire for your run,” Alex said.
Each boom from the powerful rifle rattled the entire front wall of the building, sending shards of glass hanging from the edges of the window panels crashing to the ground. When Mick and Connor finally made it inside, they performed a weapons check.
“How many magazines do you have left?” Alex asked.
“Two,” Mick answered.
“Three,” Connor replied.
“Harper, what’s your position?”
All of their radios were linked to the same frequency, exposing everyone to the screams and gunshots each of them experienced firsthand.
“We’re pinned down in the back!” Harper answered, cutting his voice off with a few quick gunshots. “More of them showed up. I don’t know how much longer we’re going to last over here!”
“Just dig in for a little longer,” Alex replied.
The looks on Mick and Connor’s faces mirrored what Alex already knew. If they didn’t make a move, then Harper and the rest of them in the factory wouldn’t last the next three minutes.
Mick tossed Alex one of the AR-15s, and Connor stuffed his belt with his remaining magazines. The sniper rifle was too big to shoot while carrying, and Alex knew he couldn’t afford leaving anyone behind to operate it. With the numbers now even on both sides, the first group to make an advance would have the upper hand. “Frank, Jean, how’s Jimmy?”
“He’s a little wobbly, but other than that he’s fine,” Frank answered.
“Well, tell him to shake it off and give him a rifle. We’re going to get Harper out.”
The brief silence that followed was filled with all the flashes of a man who had accepted that his life was drawing near. Finally, Jean spoke up. “What’s the plan?”
“There should still be some grenades in the back of the sentry house where we found the rifles,” Alex answered. “Grab as many as you can. Make it quick.”
Throughout the entire fight, Alex could feel his shoulder burning. What started as a minor discomfort had transformed into a debilitating stressor. The fires that disfigured his flesh years ago had left a mark on him that he’d never been able to shake off. It didn’t matter what he tried to do or who he helped, the fire that lingered on his shoulder always asked for more. And now, it was calling for one final price. It was calling for his blood. All he had to do was answer the door, and it would be over. This was it.
The radio in Alex’s ear crackled, and Jean’s voice broke through. “Alex! I’ve got them!”
“All right. You guys are close enough to get the grenades within a few feet of the trucks. I want you to throw all of them, and the moment they detonate, you send a smoke canister to give us some cover while Mick, Connor, and I make a run for the factory. You two provide cover fire for us until we make it to the trucks, then you come out and join us. We take them together. Everyone got it?”
“Yeah,” Frank answered. “Yup,” Jean replied.
Mick and Connor were already at the door when Alex joined them in position. The sentries’ gunfire echoed on Main Street until Jean and Frank rocked the earth around them with the percussive explosions of the grenades.
Plumes of gray ash and debris mushroomed into the air and rained down on the trucks already covered with bullet holes and blood. The explosions rocked the armored trucks, blasting through the thick metal-plated doors, twisting the metal into shreds, and sending whatever glass was left in the windows flying through the air.
Alex peeked around the door to watch the final crescendo of grenades climax into a spectacular array of white flashes sprinkled with bits of gray. The craters in the earth around the trucks grew with every compression that rearranged the orderly particles into nothing but chaotic carnage. And after the final blast, Alex’s ears were ringing, and Main Street fell into the only silence it’d seen for the past ten minutes.
The moment Alex saw the smoke canister eject its yellow shroud, the sole of his boot scraped against the worn concrete surface of the meal station as he sprinted toward his judgment. The scent of the acrid smoke filled his nose and lungs and burned his eyes.
Fully dressed in the sentry uniform, with the smoke around him, and the imaginary flames still licking his shoulder, Alex couldn’t help but feel that he’d lived this moment before. It was almost as if he were stuck in this loop, perpetually going round and round, but now the wheel was finally coming to a stop.
They squatted low behind the wrecked metal of one of the cars in the massive divots left by the grenades and kept quiet, trying not to give away their position. Alex pointed to the other truck across from them and motioned for Mick and Connor to advance. They kept their bodies hunched over, with their rifles still snug against their shoulder, and once they made it to the other truck, Alex could barely see them through the thick smoke circling them.
A few rapid footsteps against the dirt caused Alex to quickly aim his rifle when Jean and Frank came into view. Frank landed against the side of the truck a little too hard, and after the loud thump of his shoulder echoed into the smoky air, the brief lull in gunfire ended.
“Harper, we’re out front!” Alex radioed. “Give them everything you’ve got!”
Alex marched forward through the clusters of low-lying yellow clouds, giving him less than a foot of visibility. The flash of a gun barrel gave the first sentry away, and Alex fired. Three thumps and a loud groan followed, but the moment he opened fired he revealed his position, and he felt the hammer of a bullet collide into his chest, and his legs kicked out from under him. His face reddened to a purple hue as the strain from the gunshot left him choking on the ground.
More gunfire and shouts from the sentries pierced through the smoke, and Alex could hear his own people begin to scream. “Alex! We’re hit! Alex! Alex!” All the voices blended together in the same high-pitched scream of fear.
The boots of a sentry suddenly appeared. Alex lifted his rifle and fired four rounds into the enemy’s chest. Alex scrambled to his feet and managed to bring a shaky crosshair into the center of the sentry’s face, which caved inward from the 5.56 piece of lead that Alex buried deep within his skull.
“Alex!”
“Harper?” Alex asked. “Harper, are you all right?”
Alex used the tip of the rifle as a point of focus, scanning through the smoke for the familiar face. But instead, he saw two black sentry helmets contrasted against the yellow fumes. Alex fired two bullets into one of the sentries’ legs before the second tackled him to the ground.
The collision loosened Alex’s grip on his rifle, and the gray ash did little to soften the blow on his spine from the two-hundred-pound sentry on top of him. Alex sucked in air, struggling to gain the upper hand on the sentry pinning him down.
The sentry reached for his sidearm, and Alex grabbed the sentry’s wrist. The sweat from battle had caused Alex’s fingers to run slick, and he could feel his grip slipping. The pistol jerked a few inches closer to Alex’s face before he was able to regain the grip he’d lost.
Alex’s face reddened. Drips of sweat rolled off the tip of the sentry’s nose and onto Alex’s chest. Jaws clenched, muscles ached, the struggle to survive raged between the two men. More cries sounded through Alex’s earpiece. Iris and Chris had been hit. The desperate screams from Harper, Frank, and Jean, begging for Alex to come help them, were silenced with the echo of gunshots.
The barrel of the pistol was aimed just outside of Alex’s left ear now. Only centimeters stood between life and death. The ghost-white tips of Alex’s fingers pressed into the sentry’s arm were the only things that stood between Alex and finality. His strength was almost gone. Just a few more seconds. That was all he had left.
Finally, he felt the slip of his fingertips and watched the barrel swing right above his left eye. Time seemed to freeze in that moment, staring into the black hole that was the 9mm pistol aimed to kill him. A white flash followed by darkness, that’s all that waited for him now.
Just before the white flash of the barrel that ejected the bullet from the chamber, an earth-shattering blast rocked the very ground where Alex waited for his eternity. Both the bullet and the sentry were knocked off kilter, and Alex used the moment to knock the sentry off him. Both the gunshot and the explosion that had just saved his life left a high-pitched whine in his ears that froze him in pain.
Alex could feel the rawness in his throat as the soundless screams vibrated his neck but failed to penetrate the piercing whine still lingering in his ears as another blast, more powerful than the one before, caused the sentry housing building to transform into a pile of splinters. He instinctively reached for the rifle, and while the sentry behind was still bumbling from the blasts, Alex shoved the rifle’s barrel into the sentry’s eye and blasted a hole that soaked the two of them in blood.
Alex turned in half circles, his feet twisting underneath him as he looked for any of his people, anyone that might still be alive. The yellow smoke had been replaced by the white smoke of fires breaking out at the front gate and the sentry housing. Suddenly, he remembered the radio piece in his right ear, and he could hear the delicate cries of someone over the radio.
“Alex, it’s Iris!”
“Iris?” Alex coughed. “Where are you?”
“Still in the factory, in the back room. There’s a—”
But before Iris had time to explain, Alex watched the tracks of a tank crawl over the wreckage of what was left of the front gate. It crushed the two armored trucks, turning both of them into metal pancakes. Accompanied to the left and right of the tank were soldiers, dressed not in the black uniforms of the Coalition, but of the United States military.
Two of them ran over to Alex, their rifles pointed at him. “Drop the weapon! Put your hands in the air!”
Alex uncurled his fingers from the rifle, and it fell to the ground. The soldiers patted him down, confiscating the magazines, knives, and grenades on Alex’s person. Once the pat down was complete, they cuffed Alex’s hand.
“What are you doing?” Alex asked, starting to resist and straining against the two soldiers. Alex looked down at his chest, and the black sentry uniform stared back at him. “Wait! No! I’m not a sentry! Check the database! My name is Alex! Alex Grives!”
“Stop!”
The booming voice of authority caused both soldiers to come to an immediate halt and sent a chill up Alex’s spine. It was a voice accompanied by a stout figure with a few days’ stubble along his square jaw.
“You’re Alex Grives?” the man asked, with no additional inflection in his voice to tell Alex what type of news his name would bring.
“Yes,” Alex said.
The affirmation was a quick right hook to Alex’s cheek that knocked him out of the grips of the two soldiers restraining him. The residual pain left Alex rolling on his side, unable to push himself off the ground due to the handcuffs. The imprint of the man’s fist was firmly in place on Alex’s cheek.
“Uncuff him,” the man said.
“Sir?”
“Do it!”
The release of Alex’s hands brought little relief to the pain still reeling in his head. Alex pushed himself off the ground, wobbling on two legs.
“Do you know who I am?” the man asked.
Alex shook his head.
The air in Alex’s lungs left him as the quick blur of a fist landed in his stomach, knocking him backward. Alex gripped his stomach, his insides feeling like they had just been compressed into the same pancake-like flatness of the two sentry trucks.
The man fisted a cluster of Alex’s hair and lifted him off the ground. “Well, I know who you are.” A nasty left cross connected to the other side of Alex’s face, balancing out the marks, and the pain, imprinted on his cheeks. Through the firing spasms of pain, the man’s words jingled around Alex’s head. Alex padded his hands and knees in the dirt, trying to get his bearings.
“Emma Claire was my sister,” the man said.
A powerful right hook across Alex’s chin cracked his teeth together in a pop that sounded like shattered glass. He couldn’t focus. Everything was a blur. The earth underneath him seemed to move and shift like waves in the ocean. The only connection he was able to make wasn’t where he was, or the fact that he still had community members inside the factory and in the forest, but the smile of a woman he’d met not long ago.
But in the same confusion in which the woman’s smile had appeared, it morphed into distortion. It no longer held the natural beauty of purpose and strength, but the brutal finality of deceit and disgust, until it faded into the shadow of another figure. A faceless man walked toward him. An imminent feeling of calamity struck into the very soul of Alex’s being. Alex could hear the man’s voice proclaiming acts of treachery, tongue lashing Alex virulently. With every syllable uttered, the faceless man morphed into Todd. The past had caught up with Alex, and the archangel in front of him had arrived to ensure that Alex received what was coming to him.
“Wait!”
The voice came from the clearing smoke at the factory’s entrance, and the soldiers diverted their attention away from Alex’s painful skirmish.
“Please! He’s not a sentry.”
“Like hell he isn’t,” Emma’s brother replied.
The blurred savior that rescued Alex from another vicious beating came into focus, and Alex felt the calm waves of relief as Harper came into view.
“I don’t know what happened in Wyoming. But I know that whatever he did, he must have had good reason to do it,” Harper said.
“No,” Alex answered.
Both Harper and Emma’s brother looked at Alex, who had managed to push himself off the ground. He spat a dribble of blood and saliva and could already feel the sides of his face swelling up.
“I remember your sister’s face,” Alex said. “The hate. The anger. She wanted to kill me.”
Emma’s brother’s hand twitched over the pistol at his waist, a glimmer of Alex’s blood shining on his thick knuckles of granite. That pair of eyes looking over every different way that he could make Alex hurt.
“And that’s what you’re here to do now, isn’t it?” Alex asked.
“Wait! Stop!” Harper yelled, rushing to Alex’s side, before the soldiers blocked him. Instead of looking at Emma’s brother, Harper looked at Alex when he spoke, trying to let his words revive whatever life Alex had left. “Don’t let him kill you.”
For whatever reason, those words permeated through all the pain, the anguish, and guilt that had plagued Alex’s mind since he’d left for Wyoming. As much as he wanted it to end, Alex still had one mission left.
“I can help you get them back,” Alex said.
“And why should I trust anything that comes out of your mouth?” Emma’s brother asked.
“You don’t have to,” Alex answered, thinking back to the bag on his bed. “I have one of the Coalition’s computers.”