“There might not be much left,” John told them. “Most folks around here would have rushed for the grocery stores while those less fortunate would have joined the golden horde surging out of town. Each of you has a flashlight and a whistle. You encounter any kind of threat, you give one long blast and the rest of us will come running.” John surveyed the assortment of shotguns, AKs and pistols the men were carrying. “Let’s make this quick and easy. The goal’s to get everyone home in one piece.”
For a moment, he felt like he was addressing his platoon. Unlike many of the baby-faced soldiers he’d served with, the men looking back at him were in their forties and fifties. Colonel Edgar had grabbed most of the men and women in Oneida between the ages of eighteen and thirty.
With their flashlights on, many duct-taped to the ends of their rifles or shotguns, the men headed for the entrance. The first in line, a father of two little girls and former insurance salesman named Barry Lund, walked right into the double doors out front. He stumbled back, clutching his forehead. A thin trail of blood ran down his face.
The others burst out laughing. Barry must have expected the doors to open automatically as they used to back when the world had power. Apparently some old habits were harder to kill than others.
“Looks like we got our first casualty,” Reese sneered as he patted Barry’s back. “Nothing but a flesh wound, I’m sure. It’s a good thing that shotgun of yours didn’t go off accidentally. Then someone really might have gotten hurt.”
Barry shook the cobwebs out of his head and followed in behind them. The store was dark and cavernous. Far from echoing, their voices seemed to get swallowed up in the giant space they now found themselves in.
“I’m guessing most of you know your way around,” John said.
Barry shook his head. “I was never much of a handyman. I used to get lost in this place back when the lights were working.”
John smirked. This was yet another consequence of Colonel Edgar’s request for all able-bodied men and women. But John would need to make the best of it.
From here, the teams each split up to accomplish their varying objectives. John and Reese stuck together. While John’s AR was at the low ready, Reese had his Remington slung over his shoulder and his pistol snugly in the holster on his belt.
“Seems like there isn’t a lot that worries you,” John observed.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Reese said.
“Here on this mission?”
“No, here on earth, is what I meant.”
“Why’s that?” John inquired, glancing from side to side as they made their way down an aisle that stretched farther than the eye could see.
“The French Foreign Legion are the ultimate expendables. When France wants to put boots on the ground, but doesn’t want to risk its own people, it calls in the Legion. The ranks are mostly made up of former colonials and foreigners, many looking for adventure. My last tour was in Mali, Africa during Operation Serval. Our job was to oust Islamic militants who were trying to take over the country and set up their own Muslim paradise. There are things I saw there I can’t unsee, John, no matter how much I try.”
“That’s the burden with what we do,” John replied.
“That may be part of it, but it’s one thing to risk your life to do good, and it’s another thing entirely when your own people nearly get you killed.”
John’s stomach tightened painfully. He felt a flush rise up his neck in the darkness.
“FFL CENTCOM ordered us to take out a local terrorist leader named Omar Ould Hamaha. Flamboyant-looking dude with a bright red goatee. Bottom line is, they fed us the wrong intel and sent us in the wrong direction. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but in this case, the wrong direction meant we crossed into Algeria where we came under attack by an outpost of the People’s National Army. Lost eight of our own before we fought our way out.”
John was weighing Reese’s words, trying to keep his emotions in check, when he saw the candy bar wrapper on the ground. He stopped, spearing it with his light. Reese knelt and inspected it.
“I see more up ahead,” Reese whispered, pointing.
Cautiously, they followed the wrappers into the bathroom department. At one point John caught his reflection in a mirror and nearly blew it away. That was when he caught the unmistakable smell of human waste.
John turned to Reese. “I don’t think we’re alone.”
Chapter 15
Reese unholstered his .45 and pulled it out, holding his flashlight over the barrel with his other hand. On point was John, his AR at the ready in case anyone was foolish enough to jump out at them. The smell grew stronger as they got closer to the bathroom department. Neither man said a word. There was a dead body up ahead, maybe two, from the odor of decay.
Soon the air became thick with flies, both men trying their best to breathe. Then movement up ahead. It sounded as though it were coming from one of the display showers. The closer they drew, the clearer the scene became. On the left of the aisle was a row of single-piece prefabricated shower stalls, maybe six of them in all, display units for customers looking to do some home renovations, but inside each was more than soap on a rope. There were people inside, their hands tied together and lashed to the top edge.
Reese squinted at the sight. “What the hell is going on here?”
John wasn’t sure, but he went to the closest stall to see if any of them were alive. The man’s eyes were closed and his face emaciated. Even his lips were pulled back into a grimace. It looked as though he’d starved to death.
A noise from out of the darkness startled them. Reese swung his pistol in that direction, his flashlight clearing the darkness and finding nothing.
“I vote we find ourselves another hardware store, kemosabe,” Reese suggested. “I’m guessing whoever did this isn’t very fond of company.”
Reese was brave, but John knew he was more accustomed to being the predator than the prey.
John got to the man in the next shower stall and carefully turned him around. This guy was fatter and wearing a heavily stained blue suit with a yellow neck tie. He’d either arrived well fed, or hadn’t been here as long as the first guy.
John slid his fingers inside the man’s shirt collar, looking for a pulse. That was when the stranger’s eyes snapped open and he started to scream.
Instinctively, John covered the man’s mouth, muffling his cries. “We’re not going to hurt you,” he told him. “Now just relax. That’s it.” Slowly the man’s breathing began to ease. “What happened here?”
“I thought you were with them,” the stranger said in the raspy voice of a man who hadn’t said a word in many days.
John reached for his ten-inch Ka-Bar Becker BK9 and cut the man free. The man sank to his knees, rubbing his discolored hands.
“The people who tied you to this shower?”
“Yeah. The ones who live here. They own this place. I came looking for a few things and they boxed me in. I’ve been tied to that shower for over a week now.”
“They live here?” John asked, wondering how they ate. Taking over a grocery store made sense, but a Home Depot? “How many of them are there? And how well armed are they?”
Jerry shook his head. “Not sure how many. At least a dozen, maybe more. And they got an assortment of guns and blunt weapons.”
“Blunt? You mean clubs?”
“I mean all sorts of medieval stuff. And when they find out I’m gone, who knows what they’ll do. They wanted to find out where I lived. Wanted to know if I had a wife and daughter. I don’t, but they didn’t believe me and said I’d tell the truth eventually or they’d eat me.” The man looked at them, then at the weapons they were carrying. “Are you cops?”