FORSAKEN: THE SYSTEMIC SERIES (19 page)

“Awww,” he moped as he leaned up against one of the porch pillars near the steps.  “I remember my grandfather giving me beer when I was only five,” he said, taking a deep drink from his bottle and then holding the glass up to cool his forehead.

“Yeah, and do you remember how
that
turned out?” dad asked from his seat beside Emily on the other side of the porch.

“Kind of,” Will said.

“You were sick all night.  Your poor mother stayed up with you while you threw up in the toilet until the wee hours of the morning.”

“Yeah…I guess I do kind of remember that now that you mention it,” Will nodded.

“I would highly advise
against
letting the kids partake,” dad continued, “especially if you have any
real
hopes of getting some alone time with your wife later tonight.”

The kids were now trying to organize a little baseball game, but with just three of them, one of whom was too small to contribute much to the contest, they were failing miserably.

“Reminds me of when we used to get neighborhood games together,” I said.  “Remember that, Will?”

“Good times,” he agreed.  “Guess they’ll never know what that’s like,” he said, nodding somewhat sadly towards the kids.  “They’ll never go to a pro ballgame and eat a hot dog, or try to catch a foul ball or home run.  They won’t get to see a World Series champion crowned.  Heck, they’ll never even get to watch another ballgame on television.”

We all sat a moment, our enjoyment of the evening somewhat tempered by Will’s gloomy realizations.

“They may not ever know enough kids to even
play
a real baseball game,” Ray added.

“Nothing more American than baseball and apple pie, right?” said Claire.

There were murmurs of agreement from among the group.

“Well, we have the apple pie, thanks to Sharron,” Pam said, “just not the baseball.”

We sat quietly again for a moment, still considering these thoughts before I said, “Well, if they won’t get to watch baseball on television or play it with the neighborhood kids,
we’ll
just have to give them a taste of what it’s like.”

“What do you mean?” asked Pam.

I picked up my beer, walked down the front porch steps, and turned back to the others who were watching me.  “Come on,” I said.  “Let’s get a game going.”

“But we don’t have gloves,” said Claire.

“Come
on
,” I grimaced.  “All we’ve been through and we need
gloves
?  We’re hardasses now.  We don’t need gloves.  Sharron’s probably got so many calluses on her hands from all that gardening she could catch a major leaguer’s line drive and not even feel it.”

She nodded, inspecting her hands, “He’s probably right.”

The others started to stir, hefting themselves from their comfy positions.  It took quite some effort to overcome the effects of the beer, full bellies, and lazed relaxation, but we were willing to do it for the kids. 

Everyone made sure to bring their drinks along with them though.

As we got our blood flowing again and found our motivation to play, we took some time to split up into teams.  Even pregnant Pam played.  We just made sure she stayed out of harm’s way and that we used a softball we’d found at the resale shop rather than a regular baseball to make things a bit safer for all involved.     

It was a wonderful end to a wonderful day.  We played until it was so dark out that we could no longer see.  We kept score for a while, but by the end of the game, the adults were so drunk and the kids were so confused and wound up on late-evening wildness and sugar-highs from their soda binge that no one knew what the score was, nor did they care.  All that mattered was that things almost felt like normal again, and for a few brief moments, it was as though we were back living in the pre-flu world.  You could have told me we were normal Americans enjoying a normal 4
th
of July, and I would almost have believed it for a minute. 

But we weren’t – not here, not anymore, not in the post-flu age.  This wasn’t the second millennium AD; rather, we were approaching 0001 AS – “After Su.” And no matter how hard we tried, there was no escaping this harsh new reality.

             
Chapter 16

Ava stared at the back of Bushy’s baseball cap-adorned head.  She felt her finger tighten on the trigger, squeeze it, and then relax. 

She exhaled heavily, the gun starting to drop.  She couldn’t do it.  She couldn’t shoot Bushy.  Maybe it wasn’t that she couldn’t, but she didn’t want to, and she shouldn’t have to.  She’d been with Jake for too long for this type of shit.  She shouldn’t have to prove her worth.

Suddenly the sound of gunfire rang out somewhere behind her and bullets ripped into the side of the gas station above and around where the men were lined up for execution.  Ava whirled around along with Jake and the rest of the men just in time to see a spray of gunfire issuing from three vehicles approaching up the street.  Their soldiers instantly sprung into action, hustling to take cover and return fire.

“Get the Strykers on ‘em!” Jake yelled.

As the vehicles neared, Ava could see they were pickup trucks mounted with heavy machineguns in the rear beds.  She also noted that each was painted with a large and very bright orange “X” on their side panels and hoods.  It was the sign of the X Family.  The families painted most of their property – their own or that of which they were protectorates – with the X insignia.  The particular gas station that they had just attacked was a new acquisition – something Ava knew because of the intelligence report from Bushy but that Jake wasn’t aware of.  It had therefore yet to be painted with the Family’s “X” brand insignia and had in turn made for the perfect target for Ava’s intentions.

“Take the Strykers and…” Jake started to yell, but a bullet zinged off the curb beside him, a fragment of which zipped into the side of Jake’s leg.  He collapsed on the ground, holding his leg and writhing in pain.

Ava rushed over and helped him to his feet, more anxious to extract herself from harm’s way and the role of executioner than get Jake out of the line of fire.  “Come on, you’re hurt; let’s get out of here,” she urged.

Jake was a tough guy – or at least he acted the part in front of his men.  The sight of someone else’s blood didn’t bother him in the least. But when it came to his own precious body, he didn’t handle injuries well. He turned into a whiny, sniveling wimp who required constant attention, and Ava decided to use this fact to her advantage to get out of her current predicament with Bushy.  Ava had the ability to cast a sort of spell over Jake when it came to injuries.  He allowed her to baby him, and she played the role of nurse and caregiver well when he was hurt. 

Ava quickly helped Jack back to a waiting Stryker.  “Back to base!” she cried, as Rambo assisted her in getting Jake in through the rear of the armored vehicle.

Typically, she knew that Jake would want to stay and fight.  But she realized that right now, he would be more concerned with his own injury than fighting it out with the X Family’s men just to preserve his image.  She also realized that he’d be more willing to go along with a tactical retreat if she was the one to order it rather than him.  This way, he could blame her for the whole debacle when they got home, using her as the standard scapegoat to explain why they hadn’t held their ground.  He could tell his men that it was Ava who had screwed everything up in the first place with her poor planning.

But Ava was fine with this.  She’d happily take the blame this time even if it meant a few more welts and bruises to add to her collection.  

* * *

“
Where the FUCK are they?!
” Jake bellowed.

“Where are who?” Ava asked, playing dumb.

Most of the men who were not on watch were sitting around the pump station’s second-floor lounge, playing cards, drinking, smoking, and otherwise doing a whole lot of nothing.  Ava didn’t like being confronted like this in front of them.

“First you fuck up the gas station raid and have us attacking one of the family-controlled sites, and now, when I need all fucking hands on deck, I can’t find these two fucking jackoffs you’ve hired behind my back!” he yelled.

“I didn’t hire them behind your back,” Ava tried to defend herself.  “I asked you before…” but he didn’t let her finish.

“You think the Three Families are going to sit around and wait for us to get organized.  Look!  Look around you!” he gestured to the lethargic soldiers.  “These assholes are just
sitting
here!  They need leadership, and I’m trying to give it to them.  But I can’t lead men who aren’t here!  Now where the fuck are they?”

Ava didn’t know what to say.  She’d hoped she’d be able to use Jake’s injury to distract him from the failure of the raid, but the tiny flesh wound was easily bandaged and wasn’t even enough to waylay the typically wound-averse Jake.  Now he was on the rampage, and she couldn’t tell him the truth about Brownie and Blondie. She hadn’t realized he’d be asking for them so soon, and she didn’t have a story ready to explain where they were.  The two men weren’t due back until at least tomorrow, and Jake knew nothing about Bushy. 

“I don’t
know
where they are,” she said, which was partially true.  “I’m not their fucking keeper.”

Jake smacked her across the face with the back of his hand and then pushed her up hard against the wall, a hand on her throat, squeezing.  “You know exactly where the fuck they are,” he growled, his face just inches from hers.  His eyes were bulging, his lips curled back in a snarl, and the muscles and veins in his neck twitched and writhed like a bucket full of worms.  “You’ve probably got them up to some nonsense behind my back you conniving bitch!”

Ava could feel the eyes of the men upon her.  She didn’t want to appear weak, but at the same time, if she tried to stand up to Jake, it would only make the situation worse.  Now was not the time for a confrontation, so she decided to try to diffuse the situation.

“Jake…” she struggled to talk with his hand squeezing tight her throat.  “Jake…just let go…and we can talk.”  

But he didn’t let go.  He kept squeezing.

“You’d better tell me you fucking bitch or I swear to god I’ll kill you.  I fucking swear it.  Where the fuck are they?”

“Jake…please…” she struggled, her airway being squeezed closed.  “Please, I…I don’t know…I swear.”

The pressure from knowing that the families were bound to attack them at some point in the near future was getting to Jake, and Ava knew it.              

He kept squeezing.  Tears formed in Ava’s eyes and she started to cough.

“I…I…” was all she could get out.  She gasped for breath but nothing came.

“You put us in this fucking situation with your fucked up plan to hit that gas station.  Now you’re telling me you don’t know where your…where
my
men are?”

Ava’s eyes started to roll back in her head.  Her vision blurred.  She coughed, but couldn’t regain the lost breath, choking, gasping.

Suddenly a large, tattooed arm fell upon Jake’s wrist, lessoning his grip on Ava’s throat.  Ava’s eyes angled right and she blinked the tears away to see. 

It was Mad Dog.

“Boss,” he said.  “I know where they are.”

Jake turned to face him, surprised, and simultaneously releasing his grip on Ava who took a huge suck of air and somehow remained standing.  Her body wanted to collapse for lack of oxygen.  But standing was the only thing her brain could think to do to show some sign of strength and resolve to the men observing their leaders in conflict.

“Where are they then?” Jake hissed.

“They’re all fucked up,” Mad Dog said.  “I took ‘em over some shit the other day.  Didn’t think there’d be any harm in it, but they did the whole bag all one once.  They were celebrating the gas station hit.”

“But they weren’t over at their place,” said Jake.  “I had it checked.”

“I know, boss.  They’re holed up in one of the Z Family’s brothels.  I’d go and get them myself, but that probably wouldn’t be a very good idea considering our current situation.  I don’t think the people that run the brothel know they work for us, but they sure as hell know me.”

“
I’ll
tell you what is and isn’t a good fucking idea,” said Jake angrily. “You leave that up to me.” Thinking about it for a second, he said, “No, I guess that
would
be pretty stupid, walking into the lion’s den just to try to get those worthless assholes back.”

Mad Dog nodded.  “I think we just have to wait for them to come to us, boss.”

Jake nodded, looking away at the wall, slightly calmer now, “Yeah, I guess so.”  He glanced at Ava, and then back to Mad Dog, and then around the room at the men watching them.  “Alright, the rest of you are here, so get the fuck to work!” he shouted.  “We’ve got to get this place ready.”

The men in the room looked at him and then slowly started to get up.

“I want this place like fucking Fort Knox…Alcatraz…goddamn Iwo Jima!  Round up all the extra ammo you can find.  Get every gun fucking loaded.  I want extra guys on the roof.  I want guys stationed in the Strykers ready to go.  Get your fucking asses moving!” he shouted.  Then he stormed out of the room.