The Survivors

Kenn and Charlie

New Mexico

1

“Who’s in here?” LCpl Kenn Harrison stepped into the barracks, scanning footlockers and scattered contents. Someone was hunting for food.

The base was empty now, looted. Only a lucky few had escaped the draft or been overlooked. Kenn was hoping his boy had been one of those. Half the buildings behind the chopper crash had survived. Kenn was searching them as the flames cooled. This dorm was one of the few without damage.

“Come out. That’s an order!” Kenn winced as his sharp tones bounced back from the thin walls. His hand dropped to the 9mm on his hip. Instinct said he wasn’t alone.

“Charlie?” Kenn called the name as if they were at home, ignoring the gunshots outside. He was rewarded by a small shuffling noise that made him tighten control over his emotions.

Kenn advanced to the end of the aisle, preparing to react as he read the heavy waves coming off the person. Desperation.

“Come out.” Kenn forced himself to be patient. He would not have been in the past, couldn’t, but the war had already begun to change him.

Two filthy hands emerged from under the bunk on his right.

Kenn grinned. The boy’s here! He is alive! He’s…hurt? Is that blood trickling from his ears...? Oh God! Where are his eyes?

“Sir?”

Kenn automatically lunged forward to catch the teenager as he stood and stumbled.

“Want…my…mommy, sir!” The dying boy coughed, splattering them both in red droplets as he struggled to breathe. “…mommy!”

Kenn snapped awake.

He swept the boy lying nearby, staring back at him in alarm. Their eyesight had easily adjusted to the dark conditions. It was their minds that refused to bend.

Kenn calmed his breathing. The smart kid had rotated to emptied buildings to avoid being taken. It had taken two full days to search the base. Kenn was still experiencing the horror. The nightmare was a nasty reminder of the fear he’d felt when the chopper had crashed into the officer’s dorm in front of him.

The darkness around their tent was absolute. They were well hidden, but an unwelcome sense of danger still flared.

When Charlie started to speak, Kenn shook his head, senses switching to full alert. Light rain drummed on the tarps over the truck; wind howled through the junipers around them… Was that a twig snapping?

Kenn drew his M9, squinting through the spyhole he’d left when they made camp in this grove of scrawny trees. We’re too well hidden. No one’s out there sneaking closer. He slid his wrist under the blanket to block the light while he checked the alarm console on his watch. The traps were unbroken.An animal? Kenn kept his gun handy in case it was the two-legged kind.

Light, freezing rain thumped on the bare branches, the tent, the shed they were behind, the covered vehicle. Sleep called, seducing…

Lightning flashed, illuminating the tent. Then darkness came again, with the heavy patter of rain. Kenn drifted off while waiting for the inevitable crack of thunder.

Crunch.

Baamm!

Kenn snapped awake. Someone is out there!

Snap. “Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.”

An alarm sounded for each breach, telling Kenn how many ambushers they had.

“Beep. Beep. Beep.”

The two males reacted, following the plan they’d worked out before leaving the base ten days ago. Kenn slit a gash in the tent wall, then another in the thick, black tarp over the MRAP.

The boy shoved their things into the vehicle, staying low in case gunfire broke out.

Footsteps came.

The Marine inside took over, evaluating the threat and picking the proper action in seconds. Not rushing but sneaking. If the intruders are unaware of breaking a perimeter alarm, then they aren’t professionals.

Snap!

Coming in fast instead of careful, a soft murmur of voices instead of the silence of hand signals… Kenn’s lip curled. Base boots.

Kenn waved the boy onto the floorboard and got in behind him, adrenaline flowing in thick waves.

Charlie started the engine without being told.

Kenn brought his M16 up as lightning flashed in the distance. Voices echoed.

“They still have the truck!”

“Get the boy! We need him!”

Recognition came as Kenn knelt in the seat. It was the tail from Fort Defiance he’d hoped they lost a week ago. “You’ll have to take lead instead!” Kenn rose, throwing off the tarp. He fired twice, following their noises with his well-trained ears.

Charlie held the brake in with his palm, then shifted them into drive, sticking to the plan.

Men grunted in the wet, cold darkness.

Kenn hunkered. “Go!”

Charlie hit the gas.

The tires spun. The truck fishtailed on a patch of ice as it lunged forward, spraying mud and clumps of locoweed.

“Get our bikes! We need his blood!”

“Shoot the Marine!”

Desperation made the kidnappers reckless. They charged the truck with jerky movements.

“Now, boy!”

Charlie slammed both hands onto the brake at Kenn’s call, hoping the Marine could handle it. He was preparing to use his gifts, but he was terrified of it.

Kenn used the enemy’s noises to pinpoint their locations as the truck slid to a stop. He fired five shots into the darkness.

Silence fell.

Soft sounds came to him–the quiet engine, the damp wind howling by, adobe buildings groaning in the distance. It was over. “Boo-yah, baby!”

“Are they dead?”

Charlie’s voice wasn’t calm, but Kenn was impressed by the control the teenager had shown during the assault. Kenn put the truck in park as the teenager shifted into the wet passenger seat. “Give us some light; we’ll find out.”

Kenn already knew they were. Each of those bullets was a kill shot, but he was eager for even the boy’s approval since no one else was around. He was alone with the sullen teenager, protecting them both without the attention or respect he craved. He would take what he could get.

Charlie lit one of the umbrella torches they’d made before leaving the base. The glass tops gave each of the three small candles on the thin wooden board a shelter from the elements. He held it high, taking it all in.

Kenn scanned their surroundings instead of the bodies. Shrubs, junipers, patches of mud, tire-busters that he would be careful to avoid, and darkness–more of that than anything else.

Charlie gawked in shocked respect as he surveyed the battlefield. Seven bodies lay in two half circles, each one with a clean shot into dirty camouflage uniforms. It was amazing. Not one miss.

After a moment, Kenn sat on the wet, hard seat, motioning for the boy to put out the light.

“We takin’ their stuff?”

“No. They were obviously sick. We’ll hit the redline for a click or two, then doze a bit.” He lifted his hood, indicating the child should do the same.

Both males heard a distant dog barking miserably but ignored it as yet another starving pet chained in someone’s yard.

“They wanted me.” Charlie didn’t like how that felt. “That’s why they’ve been following?”

Kenn saw no reason to lie. “Yes. Probably believed your blood would heal them. Crazy shit happens now. Kids are big targets.” He gestured. “Stay close. It’ll only get worse.”

2

The drab truck ran out of gas an hour later. Kenn was sorry to leave it, though he knew they’d been lucky to discover it at all. He didn’t know why the EMP hadn’t knocked it out too, but he assumed it had something to do with where it had been parked.

Kenn steered the coasting vehicle into a thicket of piñons, glad the sky was lightening. The rain fell steadily; the woods were dark, twisted shapes along a faint path of concrete as they unloaded their gear.

“All right, just like we talked about–never more than three feet away in any direction. Got it?”

Charlie nodded distractedly, still stewing on the battle that Kenn’s military mind had no doubt already forgotten. The boy was having doubts about killing, but he kept them to himself. Kenn won’t understand. It’ll just trigger a lecture.

The sky gave light to each awful detail of the landscape as they entered the city limits of Williamsburg, New Mexico. There had never been a time for either of them when a dead body had been left to decay on a street. Now, there were hundreds amid gruesome Christmas decorations. If not for the constant wind, the smells would have been unbearable even during winter.

Kenn wasn’t encouraged by their location. Nearly every business and home they passed had been destroyed or damaged. Almost nothing was safe to use for shelter. That was another lesson they’d learned after Charlie had come close to being stung by a scorpion when he’d picked up his canteen for a metallic-tasting drink of water. They now examined their shelters for marks in the dust. Most of these places would belong to the animals forever. There weren’t enough people left to drive them back into the ground.

The two males had been making a cold camp, relying on their training. They wore gloves and hats, with extra shirts over their uniforms. They were also going easy on their water. On the fourth day of being AWOL, they’d found a looted store with a few supplies left. Kenn had been relieved, but the feeling hadn’t lasted long. They only had a week of food and water, maybe two if they rationed. The Marine thought they might have to. The lack of rebuilding was a sign of more terrible things to come. Until tonight, they hadn’t seen a single person in three days. Rare flashes of light in the darkness never lasted long enough to track. Hard times were here.

The two males pulled their hoods tighter as drizzle sprinkled them. Kenn was glad it wasn’t acid rain. That was something he’d scoffed at until he had a drop land in his eye. Then there was chemical rain, which they were getting now. Almost warm, it was also flammable. A puddle would sometimes spark a weak flame from a thrown cigarette. The weather wasn’t the worst part of traveling now, but it had definitely slowed them. They’d only come seventy miles since ramming the dead fence to get out of the abandoned military installation. They had made a lot of stops to let severe weather roll by. The fury of nature came suddenly now, in steady downpours of hot drops that made them itch, or little black flakes resembling snow. Then, there would be brilliant, flashing lightning with loud, drumming thunder that promised damage and then silence again–all in the same hour. The only true constant was the wind. It blew grit into everything.

Kenn finally sought shelter as a thin sun rose in the east, exhaustion insisting. He scanned their environment, wincing at a loud crunch of gravel from Charlie’s tired feet.

“There’s our camp for tonight.” Kenn led the way to the home he’d chosen. They were almost out of the city limits now, back to pueblos and mountains shadowing deep canyons and sharp cliffs. They would need things before venturing into that wilderness. First on the list was transportation.

Kenn sat on the bottom stair of the neat front porch as Charlie began dropping gear. He scanned the chaotic lanes of traffic on the hill across from them. One of those batteries would have juice. It wouldn’t be fun to clear the other vehicles out of the way, but they could be back on the road by tomorrow afternoon. They might even reach NORAD by the end of next week.

“The door’s unlocked.” Charlie knew not to go in. He also knew the house was empty, but telling Kenn that would blow his cover of being a normal fourteen-year-old boy.

Kenn yawned as he stood, rubbing at his stubbly, black goatee. He drew his weapon as he strode across the porch. He pushed the front door open... New paint, walls and floors without marks or imprints, no appliances. Most importantly, no footprints in the layer of dust coating everything.

Kenn held the gun out to the surprised cadet who usually only touched one in a class or competition. “Secure the perimeter.”

The lean teen took it with respect, snapping off a quick salute with his other hand before disappearing inside.

Kenn broke into a reluctant smile at the careful copy of his own actions when they made camp each night. He listened to doors open and shut. A minute later, he was back, returning the gun.

“All clear, sir.” Charlie went back out into the damp smell of smoke and rot to bring in their things, not waiting to be told. It was the way he had been trained, but it was also to keep Kenn from seeing how much he had wanted to pull the trigger instead of returning the weapon. He hated the Marine almost as much as his mom did. One day, when I’m stronger, he’ll pay for every hit he ever gave us.

3

“Radio time?”

Kenn shook his head as the boy cleaned up their lunch mess. He’d made them eat out here on the porch so he could study the area and finish his mental lists. “Let’s hunt. We’ll listen later.”

Charlie shrugged. “Okay.”

The tired travelers climbed the muddy hill to the interstate a brief time later; Charlie avoided staring into the cars. Most were empty of owners, but some were not.

Kenn could tell which ones held a body by the type of automobile. The newer, classier vehicles tended to be occupied. Running out of gas hadn’t been enough to make those materialistic souls abandon their expensive possessions. How long had they waited for help to come? A day? A week? In many cases, forever.

“What are we hunting?”

Kenn stomped thick, reddish earth from his boots as he studied the endless lanes of wrecked, sideways, mud-spattered vehicles. “We need new wheels, but beans, bags, and blankets are on the list.”

The boy proceeded to a nearby car as Kenn checked a dented Dodge for power. He registered suitcases shoved haphazardly into backseats, storing the information. Kenn found clothes and personal items, along with a six-pack of bottled water, but the rest of the search went bad. It hadn’t even been a month since the war. He hadn’t expected batteries to be dead out here too.

Kenn frowned. Gas in the tanks, useless keys in ignitions... Doors were hanging open; rusting bullet casings littered the ground and floorboards. Kenn revised his theory. These people had left in a hurry. We should be ready to do the same.

“What about a dirt bike?”

Kenn moved his way. “Yes.”

“It was new. Still has a sticker.”

The Honda’s key was in the ignition, as if someone had tried to take it but didn’t have enough time. Kenn flipped the key backward.

The lights came on; the gas gauge swung to full.

Kenn pulled the keys out, sliding them into his pocket. He closed the rear hatch of the wagon hiding the treasure. “We won’t be on foot come...” He stopped, listening hard. Did I hear something? Yes. “Engines.” Still a mile away, maybe more. The Marine knew it was unwelcome news. He had the same ball-itch that always preceded a shootout.

“Get back to the house!” Kenn grabbed Charlie’s arm, keeping a tight grip as they ran down the slick, muddy embankment. He wasn’t being careful, just moving.

They hurried across the yard. Charlie started to step onto the porch.

Kenn yanked him back. “We’re muddy. We’ll leave prints.” He sat on the bottom stair, fingers flying over his bootlaces.

Charlie jerked his own boots off as the sound of engines grew louder, closer. “What’s going on?”

“Stay below the windows; get your boots back on!” Kenn shoved him in and shut the door.

“But, what’s–”

“Now!”

It was an order. Charlie did as he was told, lips thinning.

Kenn pointed. “Put our gear in that closet. Leave room for yourself behind it.” Kenn hoped none of those vehicles were coming here, to this town, to this house.

A muddy jeep carrying three armed men rolled into view, leading two rusty pickup trucks–both flying a foreign flag. A line of cars with women and children came behind them. Then a U-Haul truck, a worn Mustang, two filthy white passenger vans, a nice, gold flecked convertible, and then dozens of bikes filled the road.

Kenn studied the group as they rolled closer, adrenaline once again flying. His trained gaze picked out details most civilians would miss. Foreigners, jeeps of armed men, wagons of women…and what was it about those white vans that bothered him? Had there been a flash of blond and silver? Slavers.

That’s why his stomach was a ball of liquid heat. They had been in the path of these invaders. If the vehicle hadn’t run out of fuel, they would probably be in sight right now. On this desolate stretch, against so many, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. Death missed us by a quarter tank of gas.

The large group drove erratically, bumping into one another, but they avoided the swampy area to the left of the interstate. Kenn saw it as a sign that they were familiar with the area. He could only hope none of them noticed the new vehicle in the woods or the deep footprints in the hillside. Suddenly positive this gang was responsible for all the destruction in the area, Kenn kept his hand on his gun. I’ll save the last two slugs for–

“Why don’t we tell them we’re here? Maybe they’ll offer us a ride.”

The drunken, careless men fired at trees, signs, cars, windows, and anything else that caught their attention, including the homes. Bullets slammed into the house where Kenn and Charlie were hiding.

“Get down! That’s the enemy!”

Not as experienced as the Marine, now that it had been pointed out, Charlie saw them for what they were–evil. His affection for Kenn grew despite the anger. He needed the short-tempered Marine to keep him alive. He didn’t have to like him.

Kenn stayed alert even after the gang was out of sight and the sound of their chaos had faded. He was still stressing when Charlie began dozing against the bullet-speckled wall.

Kenn knew they couldn’t challenge or defend against a group that large. He had to hope they would be able to sneak through the next couple of days without drawing attention, though they would be on a loud dirt bike. Stressed was an understatement. However, he was also furious. A part of him protested letting the foreigners continue their rampage. They were an affront to everything America had stood for. If he had half a dozen grunts from his base, he might try to kill them all.

Better yet, just give me Marc Brady. Kenn lit a cigarette. Marc had been his team leader for the last few years and a pain in his ass, but when it came to high casualty ambushes, no one was better.

Kenn blew out smoke rings, deciding they would go northwest when they left here, then circle around to NORAD. It would add a lot of miles but get them away quickly. He didn’t want to believe the slavers had been following their backtrail, but if so, they would have to come back to where they’d lost it–here. Kenn’s smile was icy. I can leave a surprise. He wouldn’t know if he killed any of them, but it was still worth doing.

For the next few hours, Kenn labored on the explosives he’d taken from the base, listening for the dangerous group to return. If that happened, they would all go up together in one big blaze of glory. If not, the government was waiting in Colorado. That was the logical destination, but Kenn wasn’t ready to be back under the rule of the government that had probably destroyed the world and then left him behind to die in it after all the years he’d killed for them. He still loved the Corps; he would always believe in what it stood for. He just no longer trusted those in charge of it.

There had been a brief hope back in the beginning, after all their outgoing CB calls, that someone might come for them, but he’d waited over a week and only heard survivors begging for help. When the power had gone off, they’d left, unable to wait anymore as supplies ran low. Clearly, they were on their own, a Marine and a cadet adrift. What to do?

We’ll find a group to travel with, he decided, not looking forward to the boy’s reaction. The teenager expected them to go straight to Ohio, to his mother. Kenn sighed, blocking his thoughts even though Charlie was snoring softly. He had never spotted anything…different in the boy, but he was always careful. In a few years, the teenager would be the same age his mother had been when they’d met, and her gifts had been strong then. Angela had denied him access, but this sullen child wasn’t as strong as his mother.

Not that Charlie had any idea what was coming. Talk of magic was forbidden in their house, even the book or movie kind. Kenn had been careful from the beginning in case the power ran in every generation. I still have a chance to control it.

His role of stepfather was driven by that goal. It was part of why he had insisted Charlie become a cadet–to keep an eye on him. They weren’t exactly comfortable with each other, but they were able to work as a team, and they both liked to win the father/son events hosted at different bases each year. They’d been in Arizona this time, at Fort Defiance for the contests. They’d cleaned up, winning over half the competitions. Though they had different last names, Kenn never let anyone assume he wasn’t the child’s biological parent. They were both tall, with the same high-n-tight hair and bright blue eyes, though the regulation cuts were a bit long now. Dressed alike, there was definitely a resemblance. They even had the same way of staring directly at someone while listening or talking, not glancing away. When they averted their gaze, they were lying.

Kenn kept pondering their similarities as he worked, and the day slowly wore on. He didn’t wake the boy. He wasn’t ready to tell Charlie his mom was likely dead, but they weren’t going back to find out.

Leaning against the uncomfortable wall, Charlie had fallen asleep while cleaning the gunk from his nails. He was dreaming of his mother. She insisted she would find him no matter where Kenn went. His young heart had to believe that. It was getting harder to hide his gifts. When he slipped up at home, his mom took the fall. On the base, other cadets had suffered the blame. Out here, it was just him and Kenn, and the Marine was sharper than he’d been before.

Please, God, send me a distraction until my mom can get here or Kenn will control my gifts. I can’t keep it from him much longer.