John knew that if there was one there, there’d be another one nearby. Shit. He might get attacked from behind. He’d never know it until it was too late.
It was good John and Cynthia had been practicing so much with the firearms. He certainly was still no expert, but he was a lot better. Everything about the gun felt natural to John now, and he felt confident he could hit the guy, provided he could just get a clear shot.
The orange jumpsuit was hidden behind a tree. But the guy would have to move. He couldn’t stay there forever.
John kept his eyes on the tree the jumpsuit had disappeared behind. If he took his eyes off to check for another attacker, he’d risk losing his chance of getting a shot off.
So he kept his ears peeled, listening as close as he could for sounds coming from any direction.
A flash of the orange jumpsuit up ahead.
John was ready.
He squeezed the trigger.
The other guy didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t even have time to get off a shot.
He collapsed to the ground. John’s round hit him square in the chest.
Somewhere, off in the forest, a dog barked. It had to be Kiki.
John spun around.
The other convict was there, his hand gripping a pistol, rising up to point the gun at John. It seemed to happen in slow motion.
Before John could throw himself onto the ground, a crack rang out. Another shot had been fired.
The convict fell, his heavy body hitting the ground with a soft thud. Blood poured from his head.
Dale stood off in the distance, partially obscured by a tree. He held a rifle, the scope pushed to his eye. He lowered the rifle.
“Not a bad shot, eh?” called out Dale. “There were only two of them, right?”
“Just two, yeah.”
Dale was striding over.
Kiki got to John before Dale did. She came up and started licking his hand.
“Good girl, good girl,” said John.
“You feeling all right?” said Dale, clapping John on the back.
“Better than yesterday, that’s for sure.”
“How’s that arm doing?”
“Feels fine. I’ll get Cynthia to take another look at it today. Thanks, by the way. You’ve saved my life. Maybe twice now.”
“Don’t think anything of it,” said Dale. “It wasn’t a hard shot. Come on, let’s go see if we can tune into that broadcast.”
John felt excitement bubbling up in his chest. The convicts had made him briefly forget about it, and the excitement he’d felt last night about the possibility of hearing someone’s voice piping through a radio.
“What about the bodies?”
“I’ll take care of them later,” said Dale. “Come on.”
John turned to follow Dale towards the cabin.
“Everyone all right?” called out an unseen Cynthia.
“We’re fine,” yelled Dale happily. “Just took care of some scumbags. We each got one. Not bad for an early morning session.”
Cynthia stepped out from behind a tree where she’d been hiding. She was holding her handgun, ready to shoot.
“I couldn’t tell what was happening,” she said. “I heard gunshots, and didn’t know who’d been shot.”
“You did the right thing by staying hidden. I could have been dead. It wouldn’t have done any good to come running,” said John.
“You don’t need to tell me that. Why do you think I stayed hidden?”
“She’s a fiery one,” chuckled Dale. “Come on, before we miss the broadcast.”
They followed Dale inside, and Kiki followed them.
“Now first Kiki needs a little treat,” said Dale, taking one of the sausages from last night and tossing it to Kiki, who caught it in mid-air. “And now, for the moment we’ve all been waiting for.”
John and Cynthia sat back in their wooden chairs, the same ones they’d slept in, and watched anxiously as Dale opened a big wooden trunk that was tucked away in one of the corners of the small cabin.
“Now it may not look fancy, this Faraday cage of mine, but trust me, it does the trick.”
It was homemade, and looked like pieces of chicken-wire had been smushed together.
Dale struggled briefly with the mesh, but he got the radio out.
“Standard shortwave radio,” he said. “Nothing fancy. But it works, which is more than you can say about most of these radios. Now, let’s see, we’ve got one minute. Good timing.”
“Why does your watch still work?” said Cynthia, apparently noticing for the first time that Dale wore a working watch.
“No batteries,” said Dale, grinning. “It’s a mechanical watch. Not a drop of electricity in the whole thing. Old Russian military watch. Won it during a card game twenty years ago, and it’s been going strong ever since. Tough as nails, too.”
Dale was fiddling with the radio and glancing at his watch, watching the red second hand ticking across the blue dial, on which, inexplicably, was a picture of a scuba diver.
“OK, here goes nothing. Quiet, everyone.”
John and Cynthia didn’t need to be told. They didn’t know what they’d hear. But really, anything would be something. Anything would be a spark of hope. Hope that there were others out there, working on rebuilding something, even if it was something as simple as a rudimentary communication network.
The radio hissed and crackled.
Someone’s voice came through. It was a woman’s voice. She sounded young, around college age, but it was hard to tell with all the static.
“Zoe coming at you today. Hope you’re all ready for the exciting updates of this beautiful Tuesday here in upstate New York… undisclosed location, of course…”
A brief hiss of static obscured the announcer’s words momentarily.
“Hope you’re all hunkering down and surviving as best you can. I know we’ve all been working on our canning here. Lots of berries to preserve for the coming winter. Make sure you’ve all got your gear ready and don’t forget to air it out. Just because we don’t have traditional showers, and just because no one’s using deodorant, doesn’t mean we all have to stink any more than we have to. And yes, I’m referring to you, Ted. Now… OK, they’re telling me I have to get onto the—” another hiss of static “—and that wraps it up for that little sad announcement, but as I’ve said over and over, there’s not much good news these days. But we’ll take what we can get when we can get it.”
Dale was chuckling, muttering, “That girl’s really something.”
John and Cynthia glanced at each other. They didn’t know what to make of the announcement so far. It was silly and kind of goofy, in an offbeat kind of tone that belied the experiences they’d had so far.
John and Cynthia had struggled. They’d almost been killed who knew how many times. And they’d had to shoot to kill. They were dirty and mud streaked and blood stained. But this young woman on the radio was cracking jokes and talking about preserving berries.
“And now we’re going to get to the list… so far we haven’t learned of connecting anyone together. But if you’re out there listening, maybe you’ll hear of a family member or friend who’s still alive. An unnamed community in an unknown location in Pennsylvania recently had the following visitors, who apparently refused to give their full names. Now that’s not much good for most, but maybe you’ll know the whole group, and be able to identify them by their first names. I really have no idea.”
More static hissed through the radio.
“So to repeat that list, we have: Max, Mandy, Georgia, Chad, Sadie, and James. OK, folks, that about wraps it up. We’ll be on the air again Thursday. Same time, same channel. Keep a cool head, and keep those guns within arm’s reach. Over and out.”
“Hell of a program, right?” said Dale.