Pushing On

10

Miller was breathing hard. His hand clutched his handgun.

Should he fight or try to execute his plan?

He still hadn’t worked out that plan that he’d been thinking about. There were a lot of complications. A lot of problems with it.

He glanced in the mirror. They were getting close.

Three of them. No, four. Maybe five. He wasn’t sure. It was hard to tell. Nothing was ever clear in a situation like that.

Miller took a deep breath, focusing on his breathing. He let himself have one slow, controlled inhale and one slow, controlled exhale.

Miller was smart enough to know that in a situation like this, the mind was the best weapon any man had at his disposal. The guns and the knives and the fists—these were just dumb implements. Sure, they were helpful. Necessary, even.

But the mind. It was the most dangerous of them all.

Miller got himself under control.

He rolled down his window.

He stuck out his arm and gave a casual wave.

“How’s it going, boys?”

One of them was right up at his window. He looked mean. He had a big red beard, bushy and untamed. Wild looking. There was the glint of violence in his eyes.

“Identify yourself.”

He pointed the muzzle of his assault rifle right at Miller.

Miller wasn’t scared. Not for his own safety. They only thing he feared was not being able to carry out his plan.

“Miller. Just Miller. That’s what they call me.” He tried to make his words sound as casual as he could.

“What are you doing here?”

“Doing what anyone’s doing,” said Miller. “Just surviving. Just hanging on.”

Miller kept a smile fixed to his face.

The red-bearded man glared at him. His buddies stood behind him, their guns ready.

“What are you boys doing out here?” said Miller, playing innocent. “I thought the military wasn’t… you know… wasn’t exactly operational since the EMP.”

No answer.

“I was having a problem, maybe you guys could help me out.”

Still no answer.

The orange-bearded man was peering past Miller into the SUV, eyeing the guns. He was looking for supplies, looking for gear.

Maybe he was looking for a Faraday-shielded shortwave radio.

But who carried one of those around?

The trick was just to casually slip it into the conversation.

“What have you got there? The firearms.”

“Oh, those? Just some of my old hunting gear. You know, you’ve got to be prepared when you’re out here.”

“Out of the car.” The words came out of him cold and calculated. No sympathy in them.

“Hey,” said Miller. “That’s fine. But come on, don’t take my guns from me. How the hell am I going to survive out here? There are some nasty types around, you know.”

“Not my problem. Out of the car.”

“You got it, bud,” said Miller.

Miller got out of the car, keeping his hands where the militia guys could see them.

Inside, Miller was raging. He wanted to tear out all their throats. Maybe eat their hearts. Some of that crazy movie shit. Exacting his revenge and all that.

But outside, he remained calm. He couldn’t give himself away.

Fake it, he kept telling himself. Fake it until the revenge. It’ll be sweeter than all this bullshit.

Miller stood off to the side. One of the others, a guy with a shotgun and a particularly grungy look, stood by him. He jammed the butt of his shotgun into Miller’s stomach for no good reason whatsoever.

Miller bent over in pain.

He wanted to elbow the idiot in the face, take the shotgun, and blast through the guts of them all.

But he kept calm.

“That hurt, buddy,” he said, keeping that idiotic smile on his face.

Keep it there, no matter what, he told himself over and over.

The other three militia men were all over the SUV, rooting through the guns and the gear. They were talking to themselves over their findings.

And they had good reason to be. After all, Miller had some good stuff with him.

He didn’t give a shit about his stuff.

There was a time when Miller had polished his guns, kept them looking pretty. A time when he’d kept his knives razor sharp. A time when gear had meant so much to him.

Now they were just objects. Cold and utilitarian.

They were nothing compared to his wife and son, mutilated by bullets and buried by none other than Miller himself, right there on the property they’d lived their entire lives on.

The three weren’t paying any attention to Miller.

“What do we do with him?” said Miller’s guard, shoving the shotgun muzzle further against Miller’s flesh.

“Kill him,” said the orange-bearded man. He said it casually, not even looking at Miller.

“Sorry, buddy,” said the guy with the shotgun, looking Miller in the eyes for the first time.

But there wasn’t any apology in his eyes. He wasn’t bothered by killing. He wasn’t some guy caught up in having to follow orders he didn’t agree with. He simply didn’t give a shit.

“You know,” said Miller, loudly. “If you like all that gear, I’ve got something really good stuff you all might be interested in. But you won’t find it in that SUV.”

“Oh yeah?” came the sarcastic reply. “And that wouldn’t have anything to do with your imminent death?”

Miller shrugged. “Hey, I’m living on the edge. I’m going to die at some point. Might as well be now or later. Doesn’t matter so much to me.”

“Then why even try to stall us with the mention of some secret you’ve supposedly got somewhere?”

“Makes it all more fun,” said Miller, flashing a big grin. “I learn something new every day. If I live another day, maybe I’ll learn something new. Or more importantly, have some fun.”

“What have you got?”

“Oh,” said Miller. “Just one of those radios.”

That got their attention.

They finally turned to look at him.

The leader, the one with the beard, walked over to Miller. He stood close to him. Miller could smell his heavy, rotten, hot breath. He felt it on his neck as the leader’s eyes bored into him.

Miller kept the grin there. Might have been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

But he did it.

“What kind of radio?”

“Oh,” said Miller, speaking slowly, to draw it out. “One of those shortwave radios. Good for communicating long distances, you know.”

“A shortwave radio?”

“Yup,” said Miller. “Why? I doubt you guys would be interested in something like that.”

“Well,” said the leader, pushing his pasty white face incredibly close to Miller’s. “It wouldn’t work anyway. The EMP was strong enough, at least around here, to wipe out almost all electronics.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” said Miller.

The guy’s teeth were horrible. They were all rotten. Maybe that was where the smell was coming from.

“You’ve got five seconds to say what you’re going to say, so spit it out.”

“Five seconds before what?”

“Before I kill you.”

He took a pistol from a holster at his side, and pressed the cold muzzle against Miller’s temple.

But he wasn’t going to shoot. His boss wanted a shortwave radio too badly.

This was good. And Miller knew it. He had some power over them. And he now knew that the rumors were true. Those two hikers hadn’t been lying, and they’d had the correct information. These militia guys would do nearly anything for a radio.

“I’ve been preparing for something like an EMP for a long time,” said Miller. “I shielded the shortwave radio with a Faraday cage. Rudimentary and homemade. But it does the trick.”

Miller knew that these guys probably didn’t actually know what a Faraday cage was or how it worked. But he could tell by their expressions that they’d heard the word before. They knew enough to know that they needed a radio with a “Faraday cage.”

Now it was just a matter of making that information work for him. Miller hadn’t quite figured that part out of it. If only he’d had more time before he’d run into these guys.

“Here’s the deal,” said the leader. “You’re going to take us to this supposed radio of yours. If you don’t, we’re going to kill you. Only first, we’re going to torture you. You’re going to tell us where it is. Trust me.”

“You know,” said Miller. “I was thinking that this radio might come in handy. Pretty useful for communicating with other groups across the country. Pretty useful for consolidating power, if you catch my drift.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about, but you don’t know shit.”

“I know your boss really wants this radio,” said Miller. “And he’s going to be upset if you screw it up. That couldn’t be good for you. The best thing you could do is take me directly to your boss. I’ll tell him the location of the radio.”

The leader laughed, throwing his head back and letting out a disgusting cackle. It really showed off his bad teeth.

“There’s no chance in that. Like I said, you’re going to take us to the radio right now.”

“I’m only dealing with the boss,” said Miller.

The punch came fast. The leader’s hard fist caught Miller in the temple.

Miller reeled with the blow. He saw stars. But he took it as best he could.

“Make it easy on yourself, and you might just live.”

“The boss,” said Miller. “Or you’re not getting it.”

Another blow. This one connected with his jaw. Pain flared through his face. Miller reeled again, almost falling.

But he was a big man with a barrel chest. Well built. He didn’t fall. It’d take more than a couple punches to fell him. He may have been a white-collar professional before the EMP, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t physically tough. As tough as they come.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking. I don’t know what you’re planning. But don’t think we’re dumb enough to take you to our boss without the radio. He’s not going to like that. It’s simply not going to happen.”

“That’s the only way you’re getting it,” said Miller.

There was blood in Miller’s mouth. Maybe a tooth had gotten knocked out. He wasn’t sure.

The leader reached into his pocket and pulled out an automatic knife. He hit the button, and the blade flashed out. Double-sided, like a dagger. And it looked sharp.

“We’ll make you talk. And you’ll die. I don’t partially enjoy torturing much myself, but Kenny over here,” he said, nodding his head to the guy who had the shotgun pressed into Miller. “He’s a sick freak or something. He gets off on slicing people to ribbons. I’ve watched him do it.”

Maybe they were bluffing. Maybe not.

Miller decided to wait it out for as long as he could. Take his chances. Because if this plan didn’t work, he couldn’t take out these four guys by himself.

He’d almost convinced himself that there really was a radio. Of course, there was nothing. He’d have to lead them to a place where he could take them out.

“You’ve got two seconds.”

“Boss or nothing,” said Miller.

“Whatever, have it your way. Here you go, Kenny.” He went to hand the knife to Kenny.

The shotgun moved away from Miller’s belly.

“I’ve got my own, boss,” said Kenny. Delight dripped all over his words.

Miller watched as Kenny took something like a Bowie knife from a leather sheath.

“Remember,” said Kenny, pointing the knife at Miller. “You asked for this.”

Miller figured they’d just try to scare him. Maybe drag the point of the Bowie knife across his skin. Maybe draw some blood.

That was the best case scenario.

It was almost too fast when it happened. Miller felt a hand on his. He felt his fingers being tugged away.

The knife flashed as it sliced downwards.

Pain in his hand.

Miller wasn’t sure what happened. The pain was diffuse. What had been hit?

Miller looked down at his hand.

His pinky was missing. Completely gone, down to the knuckle.

Blood flowed freely, already pooling on the ground.

Kenny just laughed.

The leader laughed.

The two others chuckled nervously. Maybe they were worried that a similar fate awaited them too, if they didn’t stay in line.

The blood kept flowing.

No one spoke for a long moment.

Miller didn’t know how long he’d last, bleeding out like that. But he didn’t move to put pressure on the wound, or to raise it above his head. It needed more attention than that, anyway.

“Here’s the deal. This is your last chance to come clean and cooperate with us. If not, I’ll set Kenny loose on you. And I mean really loose. You wouldn’t believe what he’s capable of. He’s a sick man.”

Miller knew he was out of options.

“OK,” he said. His voice sounded funny to him. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through him, as his body responded to the wound. He felt a little shaky. “I’ll take you to the radio.”

“Good.”

Now all Miller had to do was figure out what the hell he was going to do.