Take Back Denver (14 page)

Carrie looked at McLean. “We’ll both go. I know some parts of the city better than McLean, and we obviously work well as a team. We won’t have any trouble passing ourselves off as a couple of refugees.”

McLean nodded. He wasn’t happy about putting Carrie in harm’s way, but she was needed. With her along, the mission’s chances of success would more than double.

“
All right,” Carl said. “We’ll give you one of the handheld radios and set up a code for you to pass info to us from inside the city. The place is locked down at night, so you’re better off finding a way in whenever you get down there.

“
Do what you can. Let us know what you find out, and whether you can drum up any local support. We’ll be lying low here and gathering our forces for the next while. Unless something changes, we’ll begin our main attack at dawn day after tomorrow.”

McLean and Carrie spent the next hour getting ready. They each secreted a pistol where it was unlikely to be found unless they were thoroughly patted down, and took small backpacks for food, water, and a few supplies. It would be a rough night unless they found a friendly place to stay, but they hadn’t come this far just for leisure.

They hiked out through Evergreen on foot and passed a few of Carl’s scouts coming back the other way. After stopping to chat and satisfy themselves that they weren’t walking into a deathtrap, McLean and Carrie continued past Indian Hills and got to the valley that afternoon.

They spent some time surveying the city through binoculars and finally opted to circle north and enter Denver via the interstate. They could see some foot traffic there and decided it would arouse the least suspicion if they claimed to be residents of Grand Junction. They got their cover story straight as they walked, keeping out of sight of the city behind the hills.

Finally they came to the I-70 and headed eastward along its cluttered surface. The road had suffered through the winter with no maintenance, and was littered with debris cast off by refugees that had traveled this way at one time or another. Every few hundred yards there was a ruined car. Some were burned out and some just trashed by months of serving as temporary shelters along the freeway.

They passed several people moving westward and tried to strike up a conversation with each in hopes of learning something useful. None of them seemed eager to speak with strangers on the road, however. A man on a battered bicycle wouldn’t even stop. A weathered man and woman eyed them so suspiciously that McLean realized they probably didn’t look beaten-down enough. He and Carrie rubbed some dirt under their eyes and on their clothing to better match the appearance of the other travelers.

When they entered the valley and got within a mile of the city limits, they began to see crude signs posted along the freeway. Some were just spray-painted on the asphalt and guardrails, some were stretched over old road signs that no longer served their original purpose. “Disease ahead” had been crossed out with black paint at some point in the past, but “No food, no heat, no hope” was still displayed prominently on an exit sign that had originally alerted drivers to the presence of restaurants and hotels. “All weapons prohibited” and “Stop at barricade or be shot” had ominous skull-and-crossbones symbols painted next to them. One simply read “Turn around”.

Not long after that they came to the first checkpoint. Three strands of barbed wire had been strung across all six lanes of the interstate, and there was a small bunker to one side that was reinforced with sandbags and cinderblocks. The barrel of a gun poked through a hole in the bunker’s wall, but it wasn’t tracking them or moving at all.

Carrie looked at McLean but he just shrugged. There was no one in sight. “This can’t be the only checkpoint,” he said. “Maybe just a preliminary outpost to sound the alarm when anyone of interest comes through?”

They walked past the bunker without being challenged and heard loud snores coming from inside. McLean tiptoed over and saw a single uniformed soldier collapsed inside, his weapon propped up at the porthole on some boxes. Shaking his head, McLean motioned for silence, and he and Carrie sneaked past and continued on their way.

“
No sense in subjecting ourselves to any more scrutiny than necessary,” he whispered to her. “If he gets in trouble for it later, it’s no skin off our noses. He’d probably try to shake us down for what’s in our backpacks, anyway.”

They looked back and saw a young man on a bike roll past the checkpoint. He glanced fearfully toward the bunker and quickly sped up once he got beyond it. He steered around McLean and Carrie, giving them a wide berth, and sped onward into the city.

A half mile past the initial checkpoint they came to a more serious roadblock. Two semi trucks had been turned perpendicular to the highway and the space between was just wide enough for two people to squeeze through. The semi trailers had been converted into armored guard huts and were occupied by three well-armed soldiers. They piled out and impatiently beckoned the travelers toward them, obviously irritated that whatever they had going on inside was being interrupted again so soon after the bicyclist.

Two of the soldiers held their guns ready while the third, who seemed to outrank them even though no decipherable insignia was visible on his jacket, spoke to them. “Where ya coming from?”

“
Grand Junction,” McLean replied.

“
Kind of late in the day for a round trip. You must be planning on staying. What’s your business?”

“
Just coming to check on my sister’s family,” McLean lied. He knew that he wasn’t much good at it, now that he was having to actually speak the words. He wondered if the soldier would buy it. “They’re all sick, and we thought we’d come to help out,” he added. He instantly regretted the ad-lib. He sounded ridiculous in his own ears; surely the soldiers would get suspicious.

“
You been into Denver before? Do you have any communicable diseases?”

“
No.”

Carrie shook her head.

“
All right. Got any weapons or contraband? You’ll be shot if you don’t turn it all in to us now.”

McLean denied having any, and the soldier eyed Carrie up and down. “How about you, honey?”

“
Of course not,” she said.

“
Well, then, how about some food, or liquor? If you slipped us each a cold Budweiser, I bet we could smooth things out for you at the next checkpoint.”

The other two soldiers laughed, and one licked his lips. “I’d even settle for a Corona at this point,” he said.

“
Yeah, or anything else she cared to slip us,” the third said, leering at Carrie. A stern look from McLean convinced the trio not to pursue it any farther.

“
Okay, go on. Move it,” the ranking soldier told them. “But don’t forget to bring us something nice on your way out. I remember faces, and I might not be in such a good mood next time I see you.”

The two travelers nodded and continued down the highway until they had rounded the curve. Then, checking ahead to make sure they weren’t already under surveillance by the next checkpoint, McLean led Carrie under a strip of barbed wire and over the guard rail on the side. They slid down a steep embankment overgrown with tall thistles and found themselves on a deserted road by an old storage facility.

“
We’ll blaze our own trail from here,” he told Carrie. “I don’t want to deal with any more of those guys unless we have to. Next time they might pat us down for weapons.”

They moved quickly down the road away from the freeway, losing themselves in an industrial park as the shadows lengthened out from the buildings and the sun began to slip beyond the horizon. After another hour of walking they had gotten into an abandoned residential area populated only by dogs and a lone, feral-looking man.

They headed south for some time and the eastward again into the suburb of Lakewood. The dusk was turning into the full darkness of night when they saw a fire up ahead. It was burning in an old oil drum and several figures were standing around it.

“
What do you say?” McLean asked Carrie.

“
I don’t know,” she replied, staring through the darkness at the firelight. “They don’t look like soldiers from here. But what are we looking for, anyway?”

“
Well, as much as I’d like to just hole up somewhere out of the way,” McLean whispered back, “the reason we’re here is to talk to some people and see if we can plant some seeds of rebellion ahead of the assault. This might be our first opportunity.”

“
We won’t know until we try, I guess,” Carrie said. “But let’s make sure we have a good escape route in case these guys aren’t friendly.”

They made a plan and then began to cautiously approach the fire through the darkness. But McLean’s blood nearly froze when he heard a hoarse whisper from the bushes right next to him.

“
Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Don’t move, or so help me I’ll put a cap in you!”

McLean and Carrie whirled, reaching for their concealed pistols, but suddenly realized that there were several shapes around them, men with weapons. Some lay prone on the ground, some were crouched, all were hiding behind cover, shielded from the firelight ahead.

One of them had a pistol aimed at McLean’s head. “I said, don’t move!”

Chapter 17  :  Sowing Seeds

McLean and Carrie raised their hands, trying to keep one eye on the men around them and one on the group at the fire up ahead.

“
Don’t shoot,” McLean said, quietly. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“
Then what are you doing in the middle of our ambush? Huh?” the figure with the pistol asked, jabbing his weapon at McLean. “You don’t look like Avenuers.”

“
We’re not,” Carrie replied, unsure of what the man was talking about.

“
Shh! If you screw this up, you’re dead. We’ve been creeping up on those guys for half an hour. I don’t know who you are or how you stumbled into our turf war, but you both better lie down and stay quiet until this is over, or you’re both dead.”

McLean and Carrie laid down on the ground as commanded. The man with the pistol continued to cover them while the others around him moved stealthily forward toward the fire. He shook his head and whispered at his nearest fellow. “Man, can you believe this? Two zombies almost walk right into our fight!”

All was quiet for another minute, and then one of the men around the fire noticed movement in the shadows behind him and turned. One of the attackers shouted “Get ‘em! Let’s beat these Avenuers down!”

The attackers rushed forward and there was a flurry of violence as they swung their weapons at their enemies. Those around the fire sprang into action and tried to retaliate, but even amid the confusion and darkness at the edge of the firelight it was clear they were outnumbered. Seconds later they had all run for their lives.

While the attackers gave a victory whoop, the man with the pistol gestured McLean and Carrie toward the fire. “All right, get over there and let’s see who you are. You’re lucky! One wrong step and you’d have had your heads smashed in along with those Avenuers.”

They moved over to the fire so they could see each other. The man holding them at gunpoint was in his early twenties, with a thin beard that didn’t do much to increase his age. He clutched his gun as if it were the only possession he had, and he did so in a manner more reminiscent of gangster movies than professional firearm training. The others, two of which were women, carried an assortment of blunt instruments and knives. They were collecting the items their enemies had dropped in the scuffle and congratulating each other on the successful skirmish.

The man with the gun looked McLean and Carrie over. “You’re not from this part of town. You really are just a couple of zombies, aren’t you?”

“
Zombies?” Carrie asked. “We’re not… what are you talking about?”

“
You know,
zombies
. Walking dead, right? That’s what we call you refugee types that just come walking through with your eyes glazed over. We see a lot of your kind.”

McLean decided the kid wasn’t going to shoot anyone tonight, if the gun was even loaded at all, which he was beginning to doubt. “We’re not zombies. We may have stumbled into your little gang fight by accident, but we’re no one you want to try pushing around. Take my word for it. Now, I have a few questions for you.”

The gun-toting gangster stared back in surprise at the authoritative tone his captive was using, and those around him stopped to watch the exchange.

“
Who are these Avenuers you just ran off? Another bunch of gangsters?”

“
You don’t know the Avenuers? What part of town are you from?” the younger man replied. “They used to run this part of town. Sold out to the soldiers and went around ratting on everybody. But we’ve been gaining ground on them, haven’t we, guys?” The others murmured their assent. “We don’t let them walk all over our hood anymore. If they do, we beat ‘em down!”

McLean nodded. “Okay. So you guys don’t like the soldiers either, huh?”