Defending Camp

15

The sun was rising. Everyone was already up, sitting around the embers of the campfire from the night before.

They’d had their coffee and eaten their venison.

Sadie sat a little off to the side, looking worried. She was running her hands through her hair continuously, a habit that she’d had in school when she’d been stressed. The teachers had actually been concerned about it, and had talked to Georgia about it during the parent teacher conferences. They’d wanted to send her to a psychologist, someone who specialized in child psychology. Georgia had dismissed the entire idea, resolving the problem by laying it out straight to Sadie. If Sadie didn’t want to have to spend her time talking to some shrink, Georgia had said, she’d better cut it out with that hair business. “Do it on your own time if you have to,” Georgia had said. “But don’t do it in school.”

“You OK, Sadie?” said Georgia, looking over at her daughter.

“Yeah, Mom,” said Sadie, not taking her hands out of her hair.

“You didn’t eat enough. Get your hands out of your hair and get your brother to give you another piece.”

“I don’t want any more. I’m not hungry.”

“Tough luck. You need fuel to fight. And it sounds like we’re going to have to fight. You may be my daughter, but you’re also my soldier.”

Sadie shot her a worried look. “They’re really coming?”

“We’ve got to plan for the worst.”

Everyone knew the situation. Everyone knew what John had reported, that some type of wild horde was coming their way.

Georgia stood up so that she could easily address John, Cynthia, James, and Sadie.

Looking down at them, they didn’t look anything like soldiers. Sure, they had weapons, and they knew how to use them. But they were tired and weary and they looked nervous.

“We’ve been through a lot,” said Georgia. “I know we’re all feeling like we can’t face yet another challenge, another invasion.”

“Yeah,” said Cynthia. “That about sums it up. I thought this place was supposed to be secure. Didn’t Max choose it because it was out of the way from everything? Well, seems like he did a hell of a job.”

“Save your sarcasm for later, Cynthia,” said Georgia, bearing down on her with her eyes. “We did the best we could. Max did the best he could. Who knows what it’d be like if we’d chosen somewhere else. It could be a lot, lot worse.”

“I don’t know,” said Cynthia. “There were plenty of abandoned-looking places that John and I came across. Right, John?”

“Those wouldn’t have worked as a home, Cynthia,” said John, speaking wearily. “They didn’t have the advantages of this place. The long term…”

“What advantages do we have here?” said Cynthia. “So far we’ve been attacked and…”

“All right, that’s enough,” snapped Georgia. “You two can save it for couples therapy. We can’t do anything about our current location, so there’s no point in discussing it. What we’ve got to do is get ready.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” said Cynthia, apparently unable to leave the snark out of her voice.

“That’s what I’m getting to, Cynthia,” said Georgia, staring her down with a look that dared her to keep talking.

Georgia had sympathy for Cynthia. She wasn’t upset with her. After all, this kind of situation brought out the best in people, but also the worst. Cynthia was a good woman, from what Georgia had seen. She just simply didn’t know what to do with the worry and intense overwhelming dread she was experiencing.

It was one thing to encounter life and death situations over and over again. It was quite another to think you were relatively safe, only to find out that you’d need to wait around for the possible invasion of a tremendous horde of vicious people who’d become barely human, who functioned on the mob level, apparently without any morality at all. In a way, it was more frightening than knowing that a trained group of soldiers was invading. And that was because the soldiers made sense. Their motives could be understood.

But a mob? There wasn’t anything to understand. The mob just acted.

And Cynthia had heard the horror stories first hand from John, who’d been in the city, who’d seen it all with his own eyes. He’d lived through it, and the possibility of living through it again was clearly taking it all out of him.

“So here’s the plan,” said Georgia. “We’re going to have to…”

She was about to tell them about how they’d have to stick together, how they’d have to watch each other’s back, about how they could use some of the strategizes that Max had devised, but that they might not work because they were facing, after all, a different enemy this time. She was about to tell them about her plans for a sniper and a backup.

But there wasn’t time.

A scream penetrated the quiet.

Everyone spun around to look.

Georgia raised her rifle scope to her eye, looking off in the direction that the scream had come from.

The scream continued.

“Cynthia,” snapped Georgia. “Come with me. Everyone else, get ready.”

There was a flurry of activity.

Georgia took one glance at James and Sadie before leaving. She was worried about them, but she’d have to trust them. She’d have to trust herself, too, trusting that she’d taught them everything she could, and that they’d be able to take care of themselves if need be.

Cynthia may have been in a cranky, contentious mood, but she grabbed her rifle as quickly as anyone. And she was right there at Georgia’s side as the two of them headed off in the direction of the scream.

“You OK?” said Cynthia, glancing down at Georgia’s stride.

“Yeah,” grunted Georgia.

Georgia wasn’t feeling perfect, but she managed to keep pace with Cynthia.

They were out of sight from the camp now.

The scream had stopped.

“It stopped,” whispered Cynthia, pausing as if she was waiting for something. She looked nervous. But ready.

The scream started again. All of a sudden. Louder than before.

“Careful,” said Georgia. “We have to be cautious.”

Cynthia nodded at her.

There was a thick cluster of pine trees up ahead, blocking their view.

They moved through them, under the low boughs which hung down, drooping over them, partially hiding them from whoever it was who was out there.

Cautiously, Georgia stepped partially out from the cover of the tree, leading with her rifle. Her eye on the scope, she saw two figures up ahead.

One was on his back. He was middle-aged, with a long beard.

The other stood over him. He was filthy, wearing ragged torn clothing. His shirt was torn to the point that it left his entire back completely bare. He wielded a long axe, holding it high above his head. He stood there with a wide stance, feet beyond shoulder width.

Something was wrong with the man on the ground.

He was the one screaming.

It was so strange, so horrifying, that at first Georgia didn’t register on the reality of the situation.

Parts of the man’s body had been chopped off. They weren’t missing, exactly. They were lying right there next to him.

His foot had been completely severed, leaving only a bloody stump. His foot lay there, looking strange unattached to his body.

His hand had been partially chopped off. The bone remained intact. Blood flowed freely, and the muscle and sinews were visible.

Georgia had the attacker in her sights. She squeezed the trigger.

The rifle kicked.

The attacker dropped the axe, his body going limp as he slumped to the ground.

“Holy shit,” muttered Cynthia, who appeared next to Georgia.

“They’re here,” said Georgia.

Georgia didn’t waste any time.

She didn’t relish it, but she knew what she had to do.

There was no chance to save the man with the axe wounds. He’d bleed out soon enough, and he’d experiencing nothing but extreme pain and terror during his last moments on Earth.

His scream had turned into a wail of pain.

It was worth wasting a bullet.

Georgia squeezed the trigger. Her gun kicked.

The moan of pain ceased instantly. It had been a clean shot.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” muttered Cynthia.

“We need to get back to camp.”