The Complete Lee West Post-Apocalyptic Box Set, page 48
part #1 of The Complete Lee West Post-Apocalyptic Box Set Series
“I know I look a bit disheveled, but I need to carry my weapon. The pistol is equipped with a suppressor, making it too big for an ankle holster. This is the best I could do.”
“You probably don’t need to be armed. God has a way of protecting his own. We’ve never had a problem from the New Order,” said Father Mackey.
“That’s what I told him.”
“All the same, I feel better carrying my weapon. My hope is that you’re right and I won’t see anyone on my walk into or out of town.”
“You’ll be fine, my son.”
Sergeant Dale proceeded to town on his own. Knowing his good friend Ray had his back during this journey made him feel better about his chances of surviving. He kept focusing his mind on the task at hand. Get in and get out as quickly as possible, bringing back useful information about Evansville and the New Order.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bill Reynolds pulled into the Best Shot gun range. He and Chuck Breeman were on their way back from visiting Max at White Raven Blacksmithing. Max had loaded them down with enough rifle bullets to keep them busy for quite a while.
“Do you think we should’ve asked Max to keep turning these out? Seems like he made us plenty,” asked Chuck.
“I agree, but he seemed happy to continue, and we have plenty of casings to go around.”
As they pulled into the lot, several people met the vehicle. Bill had organized a team of volunteers whose job would be to assemble the bullets into usable rounds. The gun range had a robust bullet-reloading workshop fully equipped with several reloaders.
“We moved all of the gunpowder and casings to the back of the building in the reloading workshop. The volunteers are ready to work on this project,” said Peter, one of the volunteers.
“Great! Let me move the truck around back. No sense in carrying all this lead,” said Bill.
As the bullets were being unloaded, Chuck said, “How long do you think it will take to assemble the rounds?”
“We’ve been practicing, so this should go fairly quickly. I’d imagine with the ten of us working, we should have this done fairly quickly,” said Peter.
“That’s perfect. We’ll come back and check on you guys a little later. Charlie wants samples to be ops checked before we put them in the field,” said Bill.
“I think that’s an excellent idea. I’d hate it if one of our rounds killed someone—that is, someone on our side,” said Peter with a wink.
The volunteers quickly unloaded the heavy lead bullets. The small group seemed excited to assemble the rounds. Everyone pulled together to keep the town safe. Bill was concerned that people in town would eventually turn away from helping others in the neighboring towns or the hospital. However, so far there was no indication that Porter would become its own enclave. Instead, he thought people knew that unless the surrounding areas were also safe, neither were they.
Chapter Thirty
Sergeant Fred Dale walked quickly into town, trying to mimic Father Mackey’s purposeful gait. Everything was calm on the outskirts of town and continued that way as he passed through the first few subdivisions. The occasional person waved to him and shouted a greeting. His confidence in the mission rose as he walked deeper into Evansville, allowing him to finally focus on the bigger picture: gathering intelligence. He started glancing around like he belonged here. Nothing more than a concerned holy man keeping an eye on his flock—and the creeps that claimed the town for their own.
So far, the police had absolutely no knowledge of where the New Order concentrated their activities in Evansville, and Father Mackey didn’t seem able to provide useful information. He clearly focused all of his energies on helping people, not watching the New Order. The turn onto Front Street stood just ahead of him. Once he cleared that corner, he’d be more than halfway there. Adrenaline coursed through him despite his efforts to calm himself.
“Paaadre! Yo, Padre! Where you off to in such a hurry?” shouted a raspy male voice.
Sergeant Dale knew the type of voice well. Permanently altered by heavy drug use.
“What’cha got in that little basket, Padre?” said another man.
“Yeah, we’s churchgoers too. How about you share some of what you got with us?” said the third man.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Sorry, but I don’t have any food to share with you today. I’m merely visiting the sick to hand out some blankets,” said Sergeant Dale.
“Blankets? In this heat? Come on, Padre. Who the fuck needs a blanket when it’s so damned hot?”
“Yeah, man, what do you really have in that little basket?”
“And why the fuck aren’t you all neat and shit?”
The men moved closer to Sergeant Dale, circling him like a pack of jackals moving in for the kill. He had enough training to know this would not end well unless he did something fast.
“Here, take a look,” he said, trying to sound confident.
One of the men stepped up and grabbed the basket from him. The other two peered inside and pulled the blanket off the top of the pile, exposing the sacrament box containing the radio.
“Nothing but an old scratchy blanket,” one of them said.
“What’s in the box? Pull it out. Could be some holy water or something. I could use a drink right about now.”
One of the men yanked the wooden box from the basket and clicked the lock, opening the contents for their inspection. The man pulled out all of the little bottles and crosses, throwing them to the ground.
“Is that necessary? Our Father is always watching. He’ll know if you’ve been disrespecting conduits to the faithful,” said Sergeant Dale, trying to scare them.
The man stopped momentarily and then looked him square in the eye. “I don’t believe in any of that shit, so you ain’t going to scare me with your God talk.”
Turning back to the box, the New Order man ripped the ritual cloth off the top of the radio and whistled loudly. “What do we have here? A priest with a police-issued handheld? You ain’t no padre, you’re a—”
In one swift move, Sergeant Dale pulled the suppressed pistol jammed into the back of his pants and blasted the man in the neck. He pivoted left, firing nearly point-blank into the other two before they reacted. All three men lay on the ground in a bloody tangled heap at his feet. The fog of adrenaline clouded his mind. His heart beat wildly in his chest. Now what? he thought to himself. Anyone could have heard that. Charlie hadn’t been lying about the suppressor still being loud. He needed to hide the bodies and get out of the area quickly.
In his peripheral vision, he could see someone running in his direction. He turned and pointed his weapon toward the fast-moving man.
“Whoa! You’re safe! I’m a resident of Evansville, not New Order,” said the middle-aged man in a loud whisper.
“Keep your hands up,” said Sergeant Dale.
“Fine. Fine. I knew you weren’t Father Mackey the second I saw you. Nice try with the cap, though. I’m Marty Stevens. I live right over there. Been watching the entire thing. I thought they’d kill you.”
“Me too, but now I have a bigger problem. If they heard the gunshots, they’ll be coming.”
“Maybe, but we’re probably good. The New Order mostly stays in the area around the library. That’s a few blocks from here. I don’t think they heard the shots, but we can’t be too careful. Let’s get this mess cleaned up quickly.”
Together they moved the three bodies behind a nearby house, concealing the pile of bodies with some garbage cans and lawn furniture.
“That should do it. The McMartins left a long time ago. I’m sure they won’t mind us storing our trash here,” said Marty with a wink. “The New Order has put us through hell. It actually felt good to see them getting it for a change.”
“I agree. We fought hard to regain Porter. So far, we’ve been able to keep the town safe and clear of them. I replaced Father Roy to have a look around the town, see what they’re up to and how many of them are sheltering here.”
“Like I said, you’ll need to venture near the side of town where the library is located. Might not be as easy as you think. The New Order punks have changed over the past few days. A lot more aggressive.”
“Like these two?” said Sergeant Dale.
“Right,” said Marty. “They’ve never bothered Father Mackey, and I’m pretty sure they didn’t detect the old swaperoo you pulled.”
“If I recall correctly, the library is quite a distance from the church. Walking there could leave me too exposed. Have you been over there? Do you have any sense of what we’re looking at in terms of numbers?”
“I can’t say for sure. We did notice there are a lot more black men with them now. It used to be tattooed white guys and Latinos, now there are a lot of blacks too. Not sure that helps.”
“It helps a lot. You confirmed what we feared, that two gangs have merged.”
“That can’t be good.”
“Probably not, but we’ll get ’em. It’s just a matter of time.”
“This is as far as I’d like to walk with you. The farther I get from home, the more panicked I get. You should be fine from here. Hopefully.”
“Thanks a lot for your help, Marty. I’ll be here for a couple of days if you think of anything.”
“Sure thing, see ya,” said Marty as he waved and turned around.
Sergeant Dale walked the rest of the way to the church, trying to blend in. Besides one New Order truck driving by, he did not see anyone else along the way. He was amazed at how much the town had changed since the lights went out and the New Order showed up. Garbage was either piled high along the street or scattered around the thigh-high lawns. The entire place looked dead and unkempt, much like Porter.
Seeing the church in sight, Sergeant Dale exhaled with relief. Just a little farther and he could get off the streets.
“Father Mackey! Yoo-hoo! Father Mackey!” shouted an elderly woman.
“Good morning, my dear!” he shouted back.
He picked up speed, trying to get away from the woman’s prying eyes. He hadn’t noticed her sitting on her porch, but she’d noticed him.
“Come on over and sit with me a while!”
“Rain check?” he said, trying to appear harried.
“Oh sure, I’ve got nothing but time.”
So much for an uneventful walk to the church, he thought. He needed to get inside quickly to get the blood off his hands and pant legs. Taking two steps at a time, he raced up the granite step entrance to the old church. A momentary grip of panic hit him at the thought of the church being locked up. They’d never considered asking Father Mackey for his key. Grabbing the handle with a sweaty palm, he yanked the heavy wooden door back. Relief washed over him as he stepped into the silent, cool church.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jane sat with Sam in the makeshift cafeteria that the hospital staff had arranged. Lunch was nothing special. Assorted beans and canned peaches. They’d eaten worse. At least they had fresh water from their emergency well system.
“When are you on watch again?” asked Sam.
“In two hours. I’m going to go back over the plan with the civilian volunteers. In case there’s a major attack, we’ll need those people ready to back us up or, at the very least, stay out of the way.”
“Don’t they have instructions to barricade the stairwell doors?”
“Not those civilians. I’m talking about the men who volunteered to help with security,” said Jane testily.
“Okaay. No need to jump all over me like that.”
“Sorry. Between the heat in this place and not knowing what’s going on with Lea, I’m just a little tense. To say the least.”
“No apology necessary. I’m feeling it too.”
Jerry, the head of security, came into the room looking for someone. “Jane, do you have a moment?”
“Sure do. What’s up?”
“We heard from Porter this morning. They’re sending a package tomorrow. We didn’t want to ask any questions. Do you know what they’re sending?” asked Jerry.
“It’s probably more ammunition. I’m guessing the blacksmith came through with the bullets. That’s terrific news!”
“No kidding. The civilians barely have any. This will be a tremendous help. I’m hoping they bring the correct caliber so we’re able to use them.”
“I think the plan was to ask him to make an assortment of sizes, focusing on 5.56mm and 9mm. We also have a team of civilians and veterans guarding Porter; they all need a restock. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Hopefully, we’ll never need the extra ammunition, but I’m happy to have it. I need to head back out to the bunker for my shift.”
Jane’s mood lifted from the news. She had been concerned that the creation of more ammunition would never be possible. With the additional ammunition, the New Order didn’t stand a chance to take the fortress, as they now called the hospital.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sergeant Dale spent most of the day in the church bell tower, watching the town from one of its highest vantage points. As the sun set, the scene from the tower changed from scorched and washed out to the deep and varied colors of sunset. For a moment he relaxed, letting go of everything, and just enjoyed the view.
Charlie had given him a small set of binoculars. However, even with the assistance of binoculars, he could not see enough of the library area to generate any usable intelligence. Frustrated, he considered his options. He could try to walk over toward that end of town, or he could consider the mission a fail and head back to Porter. He decided to call Ray to check in.
“Ray? You there? Ray?”
“Here, man. How’s it going?”
“It’s okay. I’m having a hard time seeing beyond the houses to the area near the church, even from the bell tower.”
“You know that’s where they’re located?”
“Yes. That’s confirmed.”
“Any point in you staying? You could leave now while there’s some light left in the sky.”
“I’m still assessing my options. I’ll wait until morning at the very least since they’re far less active in the early hours.”
“Sounds good. I’ll stand by in case you need anything.”
“Hopefully I won’t, but it’s nice to know you’re there. Out.”
He turned off the handheld and decided to climb back down to the main floor of the church.
Sitting in a pew, he looked up at the altar. He had never been a religious man, but he had to admit the place had a calming effect on him. The wooden door behind him opened with a soft creak.
“Hello!”
“I’m here, my son,” he said, mimicking a priest.
“Marty told me you’re here collecting information. I’m Rick West. I live near the library. He said you’re a cop from Porter.”
“Sure am. I need to know what we’re up against in terms of fighting back these guys.”
“Well, I can tell you their numbers have grown. First it was just a large handful led by a local guy, a real scumbag. Now he seems gone, and others have taken his place. There was a large influx of black men not too long ago.”
“How many do you think they have? Any idea?”
“I’d say they were down to roughly thirty until the black guys showed up. They added a good number, and they just keep coming. Most are walking in on foot from God knows where.”
“How many do you think are there now?”
“I’d say at least fifty. It’s hard for me to tell, because I never see the entire group together. I mostly stay to myself, like everyone else in town. We’re all shut in our houses, hoping this will end.”
“Do you have any sense of whether they have usable vehicles or weapons?”
“They have both. They’re loaded with weapons, that’s for sure. Military-grade stuff. They scare the shit out of us.”
“They seem to have that effect on everyone. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“It seems like they’re planning something big.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve been lining up the vehicles and talking. At one point, they laid some weapons on a hood of one of the cars. Like they were passing them out. I’m not sure what they’re planning, but it really spooked me.”
“Thanks very much for the information. It helps a lot. Saves me a very risky trip in that direction.”
“If I see anything else, I’ll stop by.”
Sergeant Dale ran back up to the bell tower. He needed to warn the others. If anything happened to him, at least they would have some information to work with.
Just as he picked up the handheld to contact Ray, he heard a strange noise from downstairs in the church. It sounded like a high-pitched rhythmic clacking. The sound was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He knew he needed to check it out before making the call. He adjusted the gun in the back of his pants and ran back down the stairs.
“Father Mackey? Darling? You here?”
He heard the sweet thick Southern accent of a woman’s voice. Turning the corner and closing the door to the steps, he called out. A tall woman in skintight leopard-skin pants and a top that appeared to be missing most of the fabric stood in the church, hands on hips as she tapped a high heel.
“Father Mackey isn’t here, dear. I’m Father Dale. We decided to visit each other’s parishes. Pleased to meet you,” he said, extending both hands to her.
Sergeant Dale used all of his energy to avoid looking at the woman’s prominently displayed cleavage.
“Visit each other’s parishes? Really? I’ve never heard of such a thing. I’m Darlene. I, um, help Father Mackey out on occasion,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.
“It’s wonderful to meet you. I was just about to say my evening silent prayers, if you’d like to join me?”
The way Darlene looked at him gave Sergeant Dale the creeps. It was as though she was looking right through him and knew everything. Unlike the others he had met in Evansville, she did not seem thrilled to see someone from the outside. His concern grew when she hesitated at the invitation to pray. He wondered if she thought it was odd that he wanted to pray silently. Perhaps Father Mackey said a certain type of mass at this time of day. He had no idea. Silent prayer was the best he could do in the circumstances.
