The man could have been the checker at his local Safeway before the event, or he could have worked at a car dealership. He was probably an average guy before the event, and now he was out hunting other humans like some crazed movie character. Well, John thought, he’ll soon be lying facedown in the street if things go as I hope. John’s thoughts were interrupted by another whistle from the four men he’d seen at the vehicles, only this time they were closer. The man in front of John returned their whistle with three of his own.
After the exchange of whistles, the dark-complexioned man moved towards John with an increased confidence. His comrades had changed direction and were closing on his position, giving him a false sense of assurance that reinforcements would soon be arriving. As the man reached the edge of the second house on the block, John squeezed the trigger. John’s rifle bucked slightly as the round left its muzzle, zipped the short distance to its target, and impacted with the poor soul’s chin. The dark-complexioned man’s spinal cord was destroyed, causing his legs to stop in place while the momentum of his body carried him forward and down to the sidewalk, where he landed with a sickening thud.
John would have preferred the man died on the dead lawn, in which case he would have dragged the body out of sight and waited for the other four men to come into his field of fire. That was not going to be an option since the bastard not only dropped on the sidewalk, but he’d bled what appeared to be two or three gallons of blood out and around his body in a scarlet red so vivid, it reminded John of airfield markers he’d seen in the past.
“Plan B, people,” John grunted as he turned and sprinted past Jared. “Bring everyone.”
Jared herded the rest of their party after John, who stopped at the first dead whistler next to the sedan. John dragged the man from the side of the sedan up to the nearest house, depositing the man’s body behind some bushes. Thankfully the unlucky wretch hadn’t experienced much external blood loss and therefore left little indication of his postmortem travels. John hurriedly pulled out the city map he carried, locating his present position. He oriented himself with the map and their surroundings, then pointed up the street away from the four men approaching from the vehicle ambush point.
“We’re going up two blocks, turning left, and setting up another ambush, and I’ll need every single one of you to help. There are at least four guys, and that’s not good odds if only Jared and I are doing the heavy lifting,” John said in clipped sentences. When he was in the moment, John became a man of brevity, his gestures, expressions, even his language.
Both Stephani’s and Claire’s mouths dropped in disbelief at what John was asking of them.
“Jared,” John continued, his face a mask of seriousness, “you take Barry, Devon and Dwight. I will take the ladies. It’s a classic L-shaped ambush.”
Using his finger, he drew an imaginary L across the cement, pointing to where he wanted Jared set up at. He’d chosen a street two blocks from their position that suited his needs. The street was a left turn off the street they currently sat on. It ran one single block to a right-hand turn. There were no outlets or cross streets.
“Jared, you and the fellas will set up mid-block while me and the ladies set up at the far end. I want both teams inside a house and shooting through windows or doors or whatever the ambush site offers you. We let these sons of bitches get halfway up the block, and I will initiate the ambush. When you hear me shoot, you start shooting. If all goes well, there should be no return fire. If for some reason we get into a drawn-out fight here, remember, the houses we will be fighting from are not bulletproof. Rounds will penetrate the walls and fuck you up.” John gave the warning with brows raised as if to make sure everyone knew the danger they would be in if they didn’t kill all four men in the first volley of their ambush.
After a second for his brief to sink in, John turned and was about to head up to their ambush site when Jared stopped him.
“I got it, but I think I know how they’re communicating. Three whistles mean come to me. One whistle is kinda a position indicator. I say we three-whistle these guys so they come to us,” Jared suggested, looking at John for support.
“Okay, I think you’re right,” John agreed. “Give ’em three when we get to our ambush street.”
Jared nodded, and John spun on a heel and struck out, leading Jared and company up the street. They moved without interruption to their ambush site, which had recently been a normal San Jose neighborhood. Today Jared hoped it would be the resting place for some men who’d made a decision to live their lives in a dark and sadly distasteful manner. Jared was amped, but oddly he didn’t feel the tug of panic he’d felt so many times before when conflict was impending.
As they rounded the corner, Devon spoke up. “Can I do the three whistles?”
John laughed out loud, shooting Jared a where did that come from? look. “Fuckin A, kid, knock yourself out.”
Devon turned his face back the way they’d come and gave three earsplitting whistles. They waited for a few seconds before a single whistle sounded alarmingly close. John grabbed both women, shoving them in front of him, and ran for the far end of the block while the remaining men and teen ran towards a house mid-block. Jared reached the house he’d
