American Survival (DeLeo's Action Thriller Singles Book 5) Read online

  “Are you ready, big boy?”

  “Sure.” Paul groaned as he shrugged on the undamaged parka, and shouldered his pack. “You’re going to carry me right?”

  “Yep. Hop on. We won’t go far, but we’ll be dressed to kill. You want me to carry the launcher?”

  “Nope. I got it. Besides, you have to carry the elephant gun and ammo. Man, if anyone happens along in the woods, we won’t be hard to find.”

  “Can you carry an AK too?”

  “I better. This rocket launcher won’t do us much good for close work.”

  “I guess we’re ready. They probably have another team on the way right now. The only thing we’ll be able to do about it depends on the space we put between them and us.”

  “This cushion you put between the pack and my back, feels good. I hope Mitch and the kids get through okay.”

  “Hell, they have the Wolf. Good luck sneaking up on them in the woods.”

  Paul bent to clear his six foot three inch frame through the shack door, and held it for his brother. When both men were on their way, Paul asked, “how in hell did you train that mutt to do all that shit. I should have asked you years ago, but I always took him for granted.”

  “To tell the truth, Wolf never liked strangers, so he actually taught me more than I taught him. The toughest part in training Wolf was keeping him from rushing at armed men. The first bunch we bushwhacked wounded him, and it made him cautious, but a whole hell of a lot meaner. At first, I sounded like a bull in a room full of beer bottles, but I got quiet out here with practice, just like all of you.”

  “Can you believe those kids? At their age we needed a guide to find our ass.”

  Jack sighed, and rearranged his load. “I just hope we can keep them alive long enough to laugh about all of this over a couple of Bushmills.”

  Paul groaned. “Man, you had to mention sippin’ whiskey. Hell, you think we’re close to ever reaching an end to all of this?”

  “I try not to think about it.”

  Without the night vision goggles, and the planned out escape, Jack knew they would have been dead within hours. They moved slowly and steadily towards their destination - slowly enough to prevent sweating. Jack figured it would take them at least six hours to get to their alternate cabin. Supplied long ago, and maintained on a strict schedule, the group used four different sites within a fifty-mile radius. If all went well, Mitch and the kids would be waiting for them there. Three other stations, approximately six to eight hours apart lay in different directions. Only at the third, where they headed now, did Jack have two four-wheel drive Blazers, well maintained, and ready to go. He hoped they would have a chance to use them.

  Jack smiled, looking back at his brother. “Hey Paul, remember how the kids bitched, and moaned whenever their turn came up to service the stations and Blazers.”

  Paul chuckled a little. “Oh man did they whine. I bet they ain’t whining now, because we’d be dead without them. It wasn’t like they had to walk. Hell, one of us always went along too. This little excursion is one very long walk in the snow.”

  “The Snow Cats are too noisy. I need to reach those damn Blazers before we can chance using the radio to call in what we found out.”

  Just then, the snow began to fall. “Well, on the plus side, this will cover our trail.” Paul looked at his watch. You think the bad guys reached base yet? It’s been about three hours.”

  “Nope,” Jack stated. “I left them a little surprise. We’ll know when they get there. Even if they have dogs, they won’t be able to follow us in this shit. Just give us another half hour, and even with helicopters and heat sensors, they’ll be flying blind without knowing our initial direction.”

  “How long do you think your little surprise will keep then occupied?”

  “If they sent in scouts first, not long. If they all get near, even within fifty yards, they’ll be in big trouble. It’ll wipe out the nearest ones, but it will maim all the ones outside.”

  “Man, you are one sneaky cold bastard,” Paul said.

  “And then some. We can’t beat all these assholes without getting junkyard dog mean.”

  A flash lit up the night sky, and the snowflakes glistened as they fell away from the light. The explosion, which followed, shook the ground beneath their feet, causing snow on the surrounding treetops to cascade down all around them. The two brothers looked at each other. Jack grinned. “I believe we have the head start we were hoping for.”

  “What got into you anyway, Rambo? What brought you to this dirty business?” Paul joked. “You couldn’t have set those explosives up while I was outside. You had all those suckers planted around and under us for a while, didn’t you?”

  “I knew I would have no time to set them off in a pitched battle. I don’t know about you; but the thought of watching them torture my kids, or you and Mitch, to death in front of me was not an option. Especially since they’d be trying to get information I probably didn’t have anyway. They got stuff to find even our cooling dead bodies in the snow. I knew they would come sooner or later for real. The force was with us today, Paul. They weren’t looking for us. They were trying to get the antidote back in one piece.”

  “Do you think they believe we have it?”

  “I don’t think they believe much of anything right now. My guess would be they checked the cabin first, before checking the trucks we captured. They underestimated us, and plodded into my special treat. If they stood too close, they’re dead or maimed. I’m hoping we were lucky, and they got caught in the blast. We sure had some mojo today. Look at you, Mitch, and the kids. We clocked those guys in the clearing by the numbers: no thinking, no whining, and no remorse,” Jack replied.

  “We all know our actions spell life or death out here. We trained the kids to react well in combat situations over the years. You’re a few notches past the rest of us on the cold front though, brother. You’re not warlike cold, not revenge-like cold, not kill or be killed cold - you are ice cold. You walked into the shack back there, and snuffed those guys without a backwards glance, and then walked out and talked to us like nothing happened. These years up in the mountains have hardened us all, but you have to admit, you’re a wee bit around the bend?”

  Jack laughed. “You talk like I’m some kind of monster.”

  “I don’t mean it like that. What gave you a head start on the rest of us, besides beating us up here in the woods? I guess I’m just curious.”

  Jack motioned Paul to walk alongside of him. “Remember when I made it out of the service, I took off for Florida, and Louisiana, to see the Spring Break down in Fort Lauderdale, and the Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Eventually, I ended up working in Baton Rouge for a while?”

  “I remember,” Paul replied. “You came back to Ohio only long enough to take off again for California. I really didn’t see much of you after that. So, you got religion down in Florida or something?”

  “Not exactly. I drove straight through to Florida, because the heater on the Olds quit a couple of months before I left. Man, I sure liked the looks of the weather when I hit Fort Lauderdale. It was February, and I was freezing my butt off in the car. I spent a couple days traveling along the coast, and checking out the Keys. The police were tough down there. They kept you moving, when you stood around on the streets in one spot for too long. If not for my Navy Reserve ID card, I would have been arrested in Miami, for loitering around this one neighborhood…”

  “What,” Paul interrupted, “are you telling me they hassled you for just walking in a rich, bitch neighborhood?”

  “You’ve never seen a neighborhood like that. I stood around gawking at those palaces a bit too long. I told the police the truth. They told me to leave, and not come back. I said yes sir, and left. If I lived there, I would expect the same police action against strangers who don’t belong.”

  “Okay, I get the picture, so what happened to you besides a police misunderstanding? Get to the exciting part birdbrain.”

  Jack chuckled.
“Well… after dark I would go to the freeway, which ran up the center of Florida, and camp in the glades near the road. I made a mistake coming to the same place to camp, night after night. Some guys fished there every morning. They checked me, and the car out, but they never showed much interest. The second morning, I even traded good mornings with them before hitting the beach.”

  “They must have mentioned something to someone, because I had company the third night, a beautiful night I might add. The stars and moon lit up the waterway, and I sat on a log until after midnight, just watching and listening. I had to watch out for alligators, because they were around, especially at night.”

  “You slept around alligators? You deserve to die. What an idiot,” Paul joked.

  “I didn’t say I had sex with them. But for the alligators, I probably would not have been sleeping between the road, and the car. Luckily, the way I pulled the car in, I could not be seen, because of the bushes. I remember the noise of a car roaring into the little pull-off, lights on bright, and glaring. They stopped only about fifty feet back from the Olds. I kicked free of the sleeping bag, wide-awake, and holding my .38 special. The hair was standing on the back of my neck. I heard the stereo blaring in the background, and the whole car shook with the bass sound. The engine stopped, but they left the lights on. Two big, rough looking blacks got out, and slammed their doors. One carried a sawed off baseball bat, and the other had a big hunting knife.”

  “Why didn t you shoot them right there,” Paul asked.

  “Damn, brother… and you call me cold. Hell, for all I knew it could have been their favorite drinking spot. I thought just showing them I had a gun would be enough to get the hell out of there. I waited to see what they would do before I started anything. While I crouched down, they came around their car, and stood leaning back on the hood of it. The one with the knife yelled, ‘come out a that car, Mutha Fucka, and maybe you live’. The other guy laughed and said, ‘Yeah, come on. You know we’re here. Show us what you got in the trunk’. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t think of what to do, and all I could see through the glare of those headlights were two partial figures. I eased up the side of the car with the .38 pointed at them and said, I don’t have anything for you. Get back in your car, and get out of here. Granted, my voice was shaky; but I never expected them to laugh at me, but they did. After their little chuckle, the one with the knife straightened up and moved forward a step. ‘Throw that gun out here. You ain’t gonna’ shoot. Quit fuckin’ around and get out here. I will cut yo fuckin’ dick off if I gotta’ take that gun offa’ you’.”

  “He sounded impressed,” Paul remarked, intrigued with his brother’s experience.

  Jack walked along a little further, shaking his head. “Yeah, they were terrified. I had two choices: do what they wanted, or shoot. I shot him dead center. I remember he was wearing a white tee shirt, and I picked a spot in the center of it. The hollow point slammed him back into the grill of the car, and then he pitched back forward to the ground. The sound was deafening. The reverberations seemed to go on and on. His friend turned to run, and I shot him through the side. The dark shirt he had on made it tough, but he was close. He screamed as he hit up against the car, and went to his knees. I leaned over the trunk and shot him again. He just curled up yelling ‘no man, no man’. The other guy had pitched forward, so he lay closer to the Olds. His fingers were clutching at the dirt, as he writhed silently on the ground. I could see him in the light of the car very well. I leaned a little more over the passenger side tail fin, and shot him in the head.”

  “His body shook slightly, and then stopped moving. I came around the Olds, thinking I only had two bullets left. I ran up to the other guy, who still lay moaning ‘no, no, no’ thinking I had to hurry. I can still see everything in my mind just like it happened a few moments ago. I smell the gunfire. I smell the glades. I smell their blood. I remember feeling an urgency to get it done screaming in my head. I leaned down, and shot the other guy through the temple from about five feet away. He jerked, and his whole body kind of flopped, and then lay still. I ran to the trunk of the Olds, and shakily got out my box of .38 ammo. I reloaded the gun. I shot both of them again in the head, and then put my gloves on.”

  “I kept putting things in order in my head, and concentrating completely on only that one next thing. I walked around their car, and shut off the headlights. The darkness really freaked me, until my eyes became used to the darkness. I knew I couldn’t get cute with the bodies. I took a flashlight out, and plotted my course from the cars to the water, looking for alligators or anything else. I cannot describe the amount of blood. I dragged each one of them down to the water by their feet, and as far down stream as I dared. I rolled them into the water, and watched them float away. I left their car right where it stood. I went over where I camped with a fine toothcomb, looking for anything, which might give me away. I knew I should have dumped my gun, but I was afraid they could trace it back to me by the serial numbers. I hid it, and the spent shells, and extra ammo under the recessed spare tire. I…”

  “You really thought they could find the gun if you had thrown it in the water?”

  “No, but I didn’t want to find out, and I knew I would be long gone. I eased the Olds out of the turn out, and headed west. I didn’t see another car on that stretch for a long while. I kept going without stops until I had trouble with the drive shaft in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. You already know I worked there for a few months at a gas station, before coming home to Ohio, and then moving to California. I kept the Olds out of sight for a few weeks, and searched the papers for any news locally. I’m sure they found the car, and the bodies, with those guys fishing there almost every morning. I just hoped maybe they never got a look at my plates. I sweated it out for the time I stayed in Baton Rouge. Cutting the .38 into a hundred pieces tempted me, but in the end, I couldn’t do it.”

  “It must have been different killing outside of a war, even in those circumstances.”

  “I never walked around beating my breast, and breaking into tears at the thought of it. I guess I resembled every other killer, in that I just didn’t want to get caught. I knew no one would believe me, with all the holes I put in them. I didn’t want witnesses, or another side to the story. I wanted them dead, and I was glad they were. I got the hell out of the state within an hour of doing it, and I felt good about it. When I remember that night, I still feel only relief.”

  “That’s it? There must be more.”

  Jack laughed. “No more to tell, brother. I killed out there for the first time, and I knew I could do it again. I knew I could do it carefully, and never give it a second thought.”

  “Good story. That passed the time out here in snowy hell. I’m surprised you never said anything about it to me before. Did you think I’d rat you out?”

  “Ha… ha, yeah right. Telling that one took my mind off my frozen ass. You didn’t seem to mind firing those rocket rounds into the clearing tonight, blasting those poor old soldiers to bits.”

  “Nope,” Paul admitted. “All I could think of was not having to see Nick die right in front of me. I guess after all this crap is over, it’ll be a little bit of an adjustment for all of us to settle down in a normal neighborhood.”

  “I read a Dark Horse comic book called Dark Horse Presents, and I remember a story in it about this handyman working in a tenement building. They called him the fixer, because if anyone had a problem, he would fix it. He loved kids and dogs; but if you hurt either one, he fixed you. I loved that story. We’ll all be fixers after this party ends, Paul.”

  Paul laughed. “Maybe so, brother.”

  “I remember reading about two marines in the Pacific who won the Medal of Honor, one of them posthumously. The story was in one of those Time-Life Books I used to buy about World War Two. This Marine Special Weapons Platoon in charge of guarding the Zanana beach supply area from being retaken by the Japanese on New Georgia, put together a couple of 30 caliber machine guns from spare parts. A Corpor
al Maier Rothschild and a Private John Wantuck volunteered to man the guns and…” Jack paused and Paul could hear the emotion in his voice. After a moment, Jack went on. “The platoon came under attack from a Japanese battalion, and retreated individually back to the beach, and prepared for the next charge. It never came. When morning came, the Marines found Wantuck, and Rothschild had been cut off, and they…” Jack brushed at his eyes with a gloved hand, and paused again. “Man, I can never tell this story without fuckin’ crying. They found these two Marines with more than a 100 dead Japanese littered around their spare-parts machine gun positions. Wantuck lay dead next to his empty gun, encircled by dead Japanese he had killed with his knife and grenades. Rothschild, wounded, lay surrounded by dead enemies. That Japanese General’s attack failed because of two badass American Marines. Whenever I start thinking about whining, I think about those two Marines, after their ammunition ran out. They whipped out their knives in the darkness, not because of some obscure ideal, but because they believed. These foreign assholes attacked us, because they think no one in America believes anymore. I believe Paul. I believe more Americans like Wantuck and Rothschild exist than these pricks realize.”

  “Man, you even know the names in the story, and all the details. How the hell do you remember all of it?”

  “When I first came across the story, I read it over, and over, and it never failed to break me up. I told it to the kids more than once, because I wanted them to know what a real sacrifice was. I guess I always wanted to be like those two Marines, and until we were attacked, I never came close. Like I said though, I believe Paul, and so do you, and the kids, and Mitch.”

  “You have to admit though, we came close with our little rear guard action back there.”