Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Thomas - Day 758

Without regard for concealment or cover to their six, Thomas held the advantage. One simple press of the trigger, and the uninjured guard crumpled to the pavement. The shot, through and through, caused the man to writhe upon the ground holding his chest. His partner limped over to him, slid the shirt from his back, and struggled to keep the blood from spilling forth.

Thomas took aim— Too late —and ended this act of bravery, striking the man in the shoulder. With a primal urge for self-preservation, the guard hobbled away from cover, breaking toward a clearing where the hill fell toward the bourn. Another shot, coming opposite of Thomas, threw the man into a slide and tumble—his rifle spun off into the grass. Once the man’s momentum ceased, Thomas gathered his sight picture again and sent another round downrange. Goodbye!

He lifted himself from the ditch and angled toward the guard he just downed. The last thing they needed was him slipping into the night only to come back to haunt them later. He neared, and the man didn’t stir. “Hey, shit bird,” he whispered, giving him a tap with the toe of his boot. “Get up.” Thomas pressed his heel onto the guard’s hand and removed the weight from his other leg. Dead. Good. All’s quiet now.

The thought gave Thomas pause. The cracks of gunfire from the camp had thinned out. The initial burst of chaos was over, and it seemed that both sides had entrenched themselves into a stalemate. That, or something had gone horribly wrong, and they had already lost. But, how? I have to get back. He turned, taking back to the hill with haste.

A tramping sound of boots caught his attention, and he saw Delta team double timing it atop the ridge. He emerged from the brush, trying to meet with them before they trailed off without him. He cleared the street, and not wanting to remain completely exposed, he pressed forward within that shallow ditch that rested between the street and ridge—each step slogging in and out of the filth he had recently crawled through.

Delta team advanced aggressively, more so than Thomas had anticipated, there was no choice but to call out, “Hawk.” The word left his mouth, low yet forceful, but not nearly enough to reach them. He spoke louder and finally the call sign caught up to them. Two hushed “Doves” were given in response, and Delta team held for Thomas to join them.

“You guys alright?” Thomas asked, craning his neck to speak with the men above him on the ridge.

“Yeah,” one of the Soldiers spoke. “We had a good jump on them, but they got loose with their firepower. Knew you were coming, so we figured we’d keep them distracted for ya.”

Thomas pitched his rifle to one of the men and grabbed hold of a few roots to assist in his climb up the face of the embankment. Once he reached the top, the team huddled around him as he spoke, “Remember we’re here to save the women. No mercy for the Butcher or his men.” A few shots echoed outward from the camp. Someone’s still shooting. That’s a good sign. “This is it. The final push.”

“Then, let’s go!”

As they approached from the north, moving into a portion of the brush that had not been taken by flame, Thomas gagged—the indescribable smell of cooked flesh overwhelmed him. Holy… Some bodies remained intact, sprawled out across the pavement, but most had not been so lucky. The initial spray of the Molotov’s reduced them to nothing more than burnt heaps. A call for help—the only word discernible above the scant gunfire and shouting, but there was no telling from where it came. The camp lay in ruin.

The area west of the gazebo was well lit—the flames expanding into the forest—anything within its indiscriminate reach became fuel. From Riley’s post there were still muzzle flashes. South of those came a few more. Charlie team made it. Another shot—each flash thus far came from positions assigned during the briefing. They must have someone holed up. Unable to visibly place their target, Thomas sent two Soldiers and the medic off toward James’s location, leaving him and Krenshaw to hold their own. Crack! Crack!Near misses shaved a tree of its bark. The three departing members of Delta team dove to the ground and took to crawling. “Get them some breathing room!” Thomas yelled.

“Retaining wall! Far side of the gazebo!” Krenshaw swung his rifle wide and Thomas’s followed. The two returned fire, fracturing bits of concrete into the air as they missed. The guard bolted around the side. Alright, There’s at least two more of his men out there. “I thought they would have given up by now.”

“Can’t expect that from wild dogs!” Krenshaw shouted.

“Over there!”

The guard’s retreat must have pushed the women from hiding, bunching them together like sheep on the hillside. They screamed, still in an absolute panic, ducking and hiding, trying their best to avoid the conflict. Thomas was sure they wanted to run off, but could only imagine the questions running through their heads. Where will we go? How will we survive? Can we survive? The Butcher had corrupted their sense of value, leaving them broken and completely reliant on their handlers.

“Krenshaw! We have to get those women out of here.”

They pushed back from their position, leveled their rifles, then broke toward the gazebo’s hillside. Crack!The guard emerged from the nearside of the gazebo, sending a round buzzing past Thomas’s side. Crack!Another barely missed. Without breaking stride, Thomas spun his rifle toward the man. Crack! Crack! Crack!The stranger’s body twisted awkwardly, and he fell onto his side but quickly tried to gather his feet underneath him. It was no use as Krenshaw incapacitated him with a well-placed shot to the stomach. Someone else is going to have to handle him if he gets up. We have to get the women on their way before they get hurt.

They rounded the nearside of the gazebo and were immediately greeted by screams.

“Don’t kill us!”

“Please don’t!”

A distant gunshot. More screams and several women took off running.

“Wait!” Cindy called to the others. “I know him!” She turned to Thomas, tears and dirt covered her face.

He barely recognized her from before—this woman he had spent only a brief moment with inside that unsavory tent. But it proved long enough to build trust between them. He was probably the only man who ever lay next to her since the world ended that didn’t try to take advantage of her situation.

“Save us! Please, oh God,” Cindy sobbed. “Get us the fuck out of here!”

“You’re wrong!” another woman shrieked, tugging at Cindy, begging her to run, but she wouldn’t. “They’re here to kill us!”

“No. They’re not.” Cindy’s voice was calm.

Thomas reached his hand out and Cindy took it. Her soft hand trembled in his, creating stillness to the world while the rest of the camp continued to fall apart. There was something about her, although in this moment Thomas couldn’t tell what.

“I…” Thomas started, but the hysterical woman’s incessant begging took him from the moment.

She tugged once more at Cindy, bringing her away from Thomas, but instead of fleeing, Cindy spun around and slapped the woman across the face. “Shut up! He’s here to help us, damn it!”

Thomas’s mouth dropped. Maybe she didn’t feel what I did.

The woman held her cheek. Both she and Thomas stood there stunned, shaken with this unexpected outburst. Cindy began apologizing, but Thomas interrupted her, “We’re here to save you, point blank, nothing more.”

More women came forward.

“Take your group and head down there.” Thomas pointed to the road that eventually curled around to the south. “All the way around. Wait there and we’ll get you somewhere safe.”