Darren Wearmouth - Second Activation

“That bloody snitch,” Brett said.

“Some good it did him,” I said.

Jack nudged me. “They’ll have no clue if it’s us or not. Probably need recognition before the cavalry descends.”

The dog bounded out from between two trees halfway between our two locations. It faced the GA guards, wagged its tail, and ran at them.

The first man approached the dog, slung his rifle, dropped to one knee, and started stroking its neck. He took a pistol out of a holster attached to his leg, placed the muzzle into the dog’s chest and fired.

The dog yelped and fell to its side. The men continued along the path.

Jack grunted and curled his finger around his trigger. “Those bastards.”

“Those stupid bastards, you mean,” I said. “If there’s anyone still activated on the island, we know where they’re heading.”

The men continued forward, heading further out of our range, and reached the monument entrance. They briefly halted and gazed at the twisted corpse at the foot of the large column. After a quick conversation, they disappeared through the door leading to the staircase.

One of the men shouted, most probably a warning to the people they expected to be on the observation deck. He had a voice like a foghorn.

Shortly afterward, the goons appeared at the top and completed two circuits—the first, slowly; the second time, looking down at the immediate surrounding area.

I pressed my back against the tree to avoid detection. “As soon as they head back down, we move and take them out by the entrance.”

Jack didn’t respond, but I could see the determination in his face, a look I’d recognized in him since his childhood, when he wouldn’t let anything stand in his way. No matter who got hurt. Brett appeared less confident and took slow deep breaths while fidgeting with his charging handle.

“Just stay behind me,” I said to Brett. “We need you alive.”

He nodded and swallowed hard, no doubt bracing himself for his first taste of real action.

The men spent a few minutes resting their arms on the wall, staring out onto the lake. One spoke into a radio before they disappeared from sight. We waited a few minutes to make sure they weren’t just carrying out another circuit.

I tensed and stepped into the open. “Ready?”

Brett moved to my rear.

Jack sprang from around his tree. “Let’s go.”

We sprinted for the monument’s entrance. As I neared the base, a shot split the air. I instinctively looked up before diving for the base. Brett landed next to me and scrambled to his feet. Jack crashed against the wall, and we all stood with our backs against it, out of the platform’s view.

Two more shots slammed into the concrete a couple of yards from my feet, creating puffs of dust. Small shards sprayed my shins.

“This has just got a bit more awkward,” Jack said.

I ignored his obvious statement and tried to think about a plan.

Something metallic clanked down the internal stairs. I ripped Brett away from entrance. A large blast erupted from inside. More evidence of GA’s dangerous stupidity.

“If they had half a brain, they’d have dropped it by our feet,” Jack said. “How many more do you think they’ve got?”

Their radios were my biggest concern. They could confirm our location to a larger force. We were the ones that needed to act, and these two stooges probably knew it.

In my peripheral vision, I detected some movement to our left, and focused in the direction of the houses we previously visited. A figure ducked behind an SUV.

“Guys, we’ve got more company,” I said and jabbed my rifle in the direction of the new arrival. “This is starting to feel like we’re up shit creek without a paddle.”

Brett flinched as another round slammed by our feet. “Is he wearing black?”

“Civvy, I think,” Jack said.

“Give yourselves up,” a voice echoed from the top of the staircase.

“You give yourselves up,” I shouted.

“We can wait up here all day. Turn yourselves over and we’ll spare you.”

Jack craned his head around the entrance. “Like you did the man on the boat and the dog?”

After a moment’s pause, the voice replied, “Suit yourself. We’ve radioed in, so you’re signing your own death warrant.”

“Fuck you!” Jack yelled.

While this hopeless negotiation ensued, I had my eyes glued on the SUV. A bald head rose above the hood.

I decided to fire a warning shot at the SUV to hopefully scare the observer away. The round punctured a hole in the windshield and exited through the driver’s window.

A man scurried from behind the vehicle, wearing a pair of khaki trouser shorts and a baggy lime-green T-shirt, and holding what looked like an ornamental sword. He reached within twenty yards and threw himself behind a short, bushy tree.

“Aren’t you going to shoot him?” a voice called down the stairs.

“Why should we? We’re going to send him up to you,” Jack said.

“He’ll kill you.”

“What do you care?” I said.

The man poked his head around a branch. “I’ve been waiting for someone to come. Thank God, you’re here.”

“Take one step closer and I’ll shoot,” I said.

“Haven’t you come to save me?” he asked.

“Don’t trust him,” Jack said. “Remember the nutter an hour ago.”

I took a step in his direction. “We’ve got enough on our plate here, so do us a favor and fuck off.”

“I’ll help you,” he said. “I saw what they did.”

“What?” Jack asked.

He shuffled to the side of the tree. “I’ve seen the killing and suicides. It’s not me.”

Jack jerked his rifle to his shoulder. “Stay back.”

Another object clanked down from inside the monument.

I held myself flat against the wall. The man put fingers in both ears.

An explosion reverberated through the monument and echoed into the distance, no doubt across the water to the mainland. The place was starting to become a homing beacon for anyone looking for signs of life. I hoped that the handheld radios didn’t have the range to communicate with the GA forces on the mainland.

“This is your last chance. Come out with your hands up, or face the consequences,” one of the goons shouted.

The man hissed to get my attention. “Let me come over there with you.”

“Just get the hell out of here,” Jack said.

A round whizzed from above and hit the side of the trunk. Chips of bark sprayed against the man’s face. He covered his head with both arms, paused, and made a dash for our position.

Another shot rang out. The man grimaced, slumped to the grass, and clutched his gut. He rolled to face me. “I’ve been here two weeks. I’m a survivor just like you.”

“Holy crap,” Brett said. “There’s nothing wrong with him.”

For a moment I felt speechless and stared into the man’s desperate eyes. His quivering hand reached toward me. “Please, help me.”

I braced myself to spring out and drag him out of harm’s way. Jack unslung his rifle and edged around to me. “I’m gonna grab him.”

“Leave it to me,” I said. “You step out and give me some suppressive fire.”

A third shot thumped down from the top of the monument. The man jolted. A red patch formed on the back of his shirt in the left kidney area. He buried his face in the grass and screamed.

“Now!” I said.

At that moment, a round thudded into the back of the man’s head. His body relaxed, and his face flopped toward us, revealing an ugly exit wound on his left cheek.

Jack growled and glanced up. Brett’s hands trembled on his rifle. I felt more in tune with Jack’s emotions. No matter where we went, GA continued to kick us and take lives.