The Renegades (Book 5): United

C
opyright
© 2016 by Jack Hunt

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

THE RENEGADES 5: UNITED
is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

F
or my Family

U
nited is
the epic conclusion to the bestselling Renegades series by Jack Hunt.

It’s the end of the line.

A year has passed since the battle in New York. As the resistance and the Renegades work side-by-side in the safe zone of Paradise, hope once again rises in the hearts of the survivors, but it's short-lived. When a seemingly ordinary run into the city goes awry, their new found peace is about to be threatened by a familiar menace. If they are to survive, the group will need to lay aside their differences and unite.

T
he Renegades

The Renegades Book 2: Aftermath

The Renegades Book 3: Fortress

The Renegades Book 4: Colony

The Renegades Book 5: United

Mavericks series

Mavericks: Hunters Moon

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lick
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I
f everyone helps
to hold up the sky, then one person does not become tired.

T
he apocalypse sucked
.

Safe zone or not. It didn’t matter.

I took another swig from the bottle and chuckled, thinking of all the bloody reasons why.

Maybe it’s because we don’t know a good thing when we have it, or perhaps we have this incessant need to create drama in our lives. Who knows?

Whatever. It sucks balls. That’s all you need to know.

I snorted, staggering around on top of what remained of some dilapidated building that once housed some of the finest alcohol in New York. I slumped down on the gritty surface feeling small pieces of mortar press against my skin. I adjusted the camera again and pulled back.

Years from now you’ll watch this and…

I frowned, wondering who would actually watch this?

I mean, there wouldn’t be anybody, and if there was would they have power?

I shook my head in my drunken state
.
Where was I?

You’re going to wonder what it was like for us. I know I would. And though my words will fail to convey the fear or true nature of people I encountered…

Again I lost my train of thought. The alcohol has begun to block out the horrifying memories of the past.

Then I remember.

So here it is, if you don’t have a vivid imagination, let me paint you a picture. Okay, imagine a big ass elephant. One of those African ones with the large ears. Got that?

Right… I take another swig of my beer.

Okay. Big elephant. Giant one
.

Here we go. The apocalypse…

It’s like getting shafted from behind by a big elephant, not that I know what that’s like but I’m pretty damn sure it’s unpleasant. And believe me, there isn’t enough K-Y Jelly in the world that could stop your ass from being chapped by that beauty.

There you go.

I didn’t say it was going to be pretty.

There are no two ways about it.

It’s painful
.

I began to feel myself becoming choked up for a few seconds before I sniffed hard and tried to get a grip. I ran a bloodstained hand over my weary face, widened my eyelids with the tips of my fingers and tried to remember the last thought that went through my head.

Everything was fading.

I tilted my head back to guzzle down as much beer as humanly possible without taking a breath. An orange and red evening sky spun above me, its billowing clouds seemed almost within reach.

Screw this.

My speech slurred as I nursed the bottle of beer and gazed at the camera trying to remember if this was my eighth or tenth beer? I held it up again and the final few drops landed on my tongue before I tossed it at the building across from me. It shattered and I heard the sound of them over the edge.

Their moans, always their moans, so sick and tired of hearing the moans.

I fired several rounds into the air to rile them up even more. Then waited.

Where did the bullets go? Shouldn’t they have fallen back down? I shook my head wondering if I even fired the weapon.

I groaned as I staggered to my feet, grabbed up another bottle from a cardboard box and twisted the cap off. Shuffling across the roof completely uncoordinated, I perched myself on the ledge of the thirty-foot building and gazed down. A massive crowd of undead jostled around like they were in a mosh pit at a concert. Their milky eyes stared up, longing for me to drop and feed their insatiable appetite.

Thank you. Thank you for coming, I declared loudly with open arms. I cupped my hands around my mouth and let out a sound as though a crowd was cheering.

This one goes out to all the ones I’ve ever loved.

I began to sing some garbled song that didn’t even make sense.

Then I crouched down, took one final swig of my beer and crawled over the edge. My feet scraped against the mortar and the snarling of the Z’s got louder. Only held by my fingertips, I wondered for a second what it would be like to let go — to just end it.

I had always thought that being chewed apart would be the worst way to go but in that moment I was unsure. Pain was pain, and I had experienced more than I cared to imagine. I wasn’t thinking straight anymore but that was the point. I didn’t want to think, feel or have to concern myself with the world that remained. It was too hard.

I hung there just wanting to touch death’s door.

Look, I know there will be some that might want to believe that everything turned out okay. But I’m not going to cherry coat this shit, dress it up or gift-wrap it in a way that is palatable, as this shit don’t slide down well.

How can it end well? It’s the fucking apocalypse.

I’d like to say we all rode off into the sunset, or that a superhuman group of Special Forces parachuted in on some rescue mission, or that the government decided to drop a nuclear bomb and wipe out entire cities.

But that would be a lie.

It never happened. Why? They were too busy saving their own ass.

Oh, yeah, believe me. Just like you, I’d seen the movies, read the books and worn the T-shirt that portrayed humanity rising up against the asteroid heading to earth, squaring off against a volcanic eruption, or searching for answers after the earth suddenly experienced an out-of-control flood, snowstorm and solar flare. And of course we all want to believe that a lone hero, smart doctor or guy with more lives than a cat would sweep in and save the day.

But that’s all bullshit.

In fact, if you believe that, let me stop you right here.

As what I’m about to share with you is going piss on all of that.

Cause when the world goes to hell in a handbasket, there is no one ready to get their hands dirty to clean it up. Oh sure, everyone wants to believe that the government built underground bunkers to restart humanity.

But to that — I say — wake up and smell the coffee!

Bunkers were created for their own personal protection, as was the community on Long Island that they had so eloquently named PARADISE.

Huh! Paradise?

No, I’m going to tell you like it is. No Special Forces stepped in to save the day, so toss that crap out the window as that’s just macho bullshit from a bunch of guys who only wished they were badass. Oh I know, some will say, but c’mon, Johnny, what about all that banging of heads back in the day? You know, Semper Fi and shit?

Please! Give me a break.

If this apocalypse has made anything clear, it’s that when the shit hits the fan, action men are far from the action. In fact, they are the ones usually running the other way.

The apocalypse reveals a person’s true colors.

I should know, I’ve met a lot of people along the way.

And I’ve done my fair share of running.

From the underground silo in Castle Rock, to the streets of Salt Lake, to the walled town of Fortress, and the Hive — everyone is the same.

It’s a save your ass mentality and fuck all the rest.

For the longest time I didn’t want to believe that.

No, I truly thought we could make a difference.

That we could stand in the gap between that which came to kill and destroy.

That it didn’t matter how fast or strong we were.

That it didn’t matter if we didn’t have what it took to survive.

Because we had heart and that was all that mattered.

But I was wrong.

We all were.

Tears streaked my cheeks as I gave one final look at the dead waiting for me.

I loosened my grip on the brick, one finger at a time.

Closed my eyes.

Then let go.

T
here is always
a calm before the storm.

It had been twelve months since we arrived in the community we called Paradise. In many ways life had returned to normal. As normal as could be, when beyond the erected walls still remained an infected world.

“It’s got a hold of my leg!” Wren screamed frantically kicking the Z in the face with the other. I was holding on to her with one hand, the other was reaching for a Glock against the side of my leg. Every muscle in my arm was aching as I tried to maintain the grip.

“Don’t let me go,” she cried.

“Now why would I do that?” I smirked as my fingers finally touched the grip of my weapon. I yanked it out of the holster, wheeled it around and shot the bastard right between the eyes. The slug tore apart its head sending brain matter over its pal’s face. The rest of the dead clawed the air and snarled as I hauled Wren up onto the half-destroyed stone staircase.

She let out a lungful of air.

While we were lying on our backs trying to catch our breath, I glanced over.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” I laughed. She slapped my chest as we continued gasping for air.

We were on a medical supply run and became a little too frisky with each other. We were in the middle of doing the double-backed beast on a pharmacy counter when the undead lumbered in wanting to fill a prescription. It wouldn’t have been that bad if we weren’t stark naked and our guns hadn’t slid off the counter onto the floor.

It was a juggling act between trying to get our clothes on and firing off rounds, which I have to say is pretty tricky when your dingle berries are clapping together like Newton’s Cradle.

“I told you to keep your voice down,” she said as she buttoned up her pants with a big grin on her face. I rolled over and ran my hand up the front of her top and over her breast.

“Same time next week?”

“Yes, but I pick the place this time.”

It had become a routine, an escape from the boredom of everyday life inside the walls. We could have stayed behind and let the team of military personnel that had recently joined do the run, but that wasn’t me. The reason we had survived was because we were used to staying vigilant. Life inside the walls had become so normal that it would have been easy to lose our edge and forget that there was still danger.

“Now how are we going to get out of here?”

“Get Jess to swing the truck around,” she said.

I had barely stopped to think about Jess. Today was the first time I had seen her in three months. The upside, if it could be called that, was that the area of land inside the wall was so vast you could go weeks, even months without seeing others. A lot had changed in twelve months. The corrugated steel walls blocked off everything west of County Road 80 and Sunrise Highway. Since our arrival it had been reinforced both in height and depth. An additional gate had been placed between Cedar Point and Nicoll Point, which was on Shelter Island.

The mutated Z’s we had seen so many months ago back in the city had made it in a few times because of the way they could scale walls but even they had become scarce. While they were rare to see, it had placed the entire community at risk. Ethan Winthorpe and the six other leaders had agreed to make the walls even taller. Since then nothing had managed to get in. It also helped that a person now had to go through two more gates to reach the main one. There were three gates in total positioned every fifty yards.

The community had grown from one thousand and twenty men, women and children to over three thousand. Most of them came from different areas of the country hoping to find safety in New York. Once every two days, several teams would venture out into the city to try and find more survivors. To ensure the safety of everyone, and to manage the needs of the many, Paradise had been split into seven districts; each one was governed by one of the seven founders. From Shinnecock Hills, to the tip of Montauk and on to Shelter Island, people inhabited the towns. The decision of who would go where was determined by the leadership based on skill set and if you were part of a family. Shelter Island mostly catered to young families. It was the most protected and if Paradise was overrun, the breakwater structure could be destroyed which in turn would prevent anyone from reaching it except by water.

After all the time we had spent together on the road, none of us seemed to object to the idea of taking a break from one another. Ben was up in North Haven, Elijah in East Hampton, Jess, Izzy and Rowan were staying down in Montauk while Wren, Baja and myself stayed in Southampton.

The radio crackled in my hand.

“I can speak to her if you want?” Wren asked.

“No, I’ll do it.”

Wren instinctively walked a short distance away as if noting the awkwardness of the situation. On our way out with a crew of four other trucks, I’d noticed Jess and Rowan were in one. Even after three months the tension between us hadn’t been alleviated. Not that I hadn’t tried. There had been several days after we’d arrived that I tried to speak with her but she wouldn’t give me the time of day. In the end I grew tired of waiting and was about to move to a different town when she, Izzy and Rowan moved out of the house.

I pressed the button and spoke into the mic. “Jess, come in.”

There was a pause.

“Go ahead.”

Her tone was cold but that was to be expected.

“We’re in a bit of a bind here, gonna need you to swing around with the truck.”

There was no reply for an extended period of time.

“Did you get that?” I asked again.

It crackled.

“Yeah. Got it.”

I felt I should have said more, but I decided not to. I looked over at Wren who was picking through discarded items. That girl had been a lifesaver. I honestly think I would have left the community or gone mad without her. I don’t think she ever knew how much the small things she did meant to me. She had a carefree spirit that wasn’t weighed down in drama. She didn’t try to make our relationship something that it wasn’t. Wren lived in the moment and that suited me fine. The strange part was that we could have stayed in the same house together but she chose not to. However, she did leave a few belongings at my place; a few tops, a toothbrush and a few personal items. I’d asked her why she was hesitant to move in. She said it was the first step towards things going to shit. It was easier for us to just meet up from time to time. So that’s what we did. Perhaps that’s why the sex was so good. There was no agenda. No need to say it was anything more than just two people blowing off some steam. Though I had to wonder.

“Any luck?” She asked.

“Yeah, don’t hold your breath. Knowing her she’ll bring the truck around in a few hours.”

“Few hours?”

“I’m joking. But who knows, she’s as cold as ice.”

We took a seat on a table and looked out to where there should have been a wall and window, except now there was just a gaping hole. We were standing in the aftermath of what remained after the initial bomb drops. That was before the government realized that it wasn’t going to solve anything. I had to wonder who’d made that decision. There had to have been people still in the area. How many of those had been killed at their hands of their own government?

Down below the dead shuffled around, we’d stopped taking potshots at their heads a long time ago. The one thing that had become scarce in the community were bullets. I had always imagined it would have been food but we had managed to grow crops and raid factories in the area for canned food.

Ethan was sure they’d be able to manufacture their own bullets soon, though that discussion had been over three months ago. Since then no one had brought it up. Instead, we were all instructed to use bullets sparingly.

We must have sat on that building for the better part of two hours before the truck finally showed up. Wren waved them over to where we could jump down onto the top. I caught sight of Jess in the cab. She glanced up but never smiled. She was all cozied up to Rowan. Well, that’s what I imagined. I don’t know what pissed me off so much. Probably the way it had ended. For the past three months I hadn’t felt myself bothered by it as much. Out of sight, out of mind had worked to some extent. Though there were nights before I drifted off to sleep that I thought about her. What was she up to? Was she in his arms? Then I would tell myself to get over it, and I would forget about her for a few more days. As the days turned into weeks it started to become easier. Wren played a big part in helping me to forget. She had a wicked sense of humor and a body to die for, but she wasn’t Jess. I couldn’t pin my finger on what it was about Jess that I was hung up on, neither could I get her out of my head for long. For a short while I had managed to block the thought of him and her together until today.

I jumped down onto the roof. The metal slapped as we hit the surface. I banged on the top and it pulled away without us even getting inside. Leaning back against the metal we looked up at the billowing clouds that cut into a deep blue sky. Each one blurred into the next.

We hadn’t made it but a few blocks down the road when the truck came to an abrupt halt. We shifted across the slick metal, nearly going over the edge. For a second I thought Rowan was being a dick, you know, slamming the brake in the hope that we would go flying off the top. But as I rolled over and looked ahead of us, I could see why.

In the middle of the road was an armed group of eight men. Each of them had his entire head and face covered in a shemagh. It was a thin green cotton square that was often worn by military or Afghans in the desert. All I could see were their eyes, and pale skin. They wore desert style military outfits and all of them were packing what looked like Heckler & Koch HK416’s.

“Shut off your engine,” one of them shouted.

I banged on the roof and peered over the edge. Rowan already had his window open, he just wasn’t listening to them.

“Do as they say.”

He killed the engine.

“What are you transporting?”

“Clothes, medical supplies,” I replied.

My eyes drifted over them.

“Step out of the vehicle and toss your weapons down.”

One by one Jess, Izzy and Rowan got out. There were three other trucks somewhere in the area. I was tempted to radio for help but by the way their fingers were brushing up against their triggers I had a sense that they would shoot first and ask questions after.

“There’s more than enough here.”

The man didn’t respond, he gestured for two of them to go around and take a look while the others kept their weapons fixed on us.

“Toss down your weapons,” he repeated.

“Can’t do that,” Rowan replied.

“You want to die today?” he shot back.

As much as I didn’t want to place my weapon down, none of us were prepared for this. Beyond the walls, timing was everything. If you caught a person off-guard, you had the upper hand, weapons or not. These guys were ready to fire, we weren’t.

I was the first to lay mine down and kick it away. Rowan glanced back at me, giving me a look that made it clear he disagreed with my choice. Then again, we hadn’t seen eye to eye from the day we first met, so I couldn’t tell if it was just his usual scowl. One by one the others followed suit.

That was one thing about the world now. Threats were never empty. People didn’t have anything to lose. Desperation would make you do all manner of things. They looked the way we did before we arrived. Clothes dirtied by hard living. Eyes empty of sympathy. Fingers ready to pull triggers. All of this had changed behind the walls. While the access points were heavily guarded around the clock, life within the walls could make a person turn soft. We were comfortable with clean water and food. We had alternative energy using solar panels, battery power and whatever fuel could be siphoned from vehicles and stations.

“You can come back with us if you want,” Izzy said. “We are part of a community that is working towards rebuilding.”

One of them let out a mocking laugh.

“There is no rebuilding, only tearing down and taking,” another said.

While two of their men went around and checked the back of the truck, I had placed my finger down on the radio button so that everything could be heard by the other teams who hopefully weren’t far from us. There was no telling what these men had in mind. Asking to drop weapons wasn’t an indication that they were going to kill us. Most of them needed the bullets. It was something we did along the way. It wasn’t personal. Just survival.

The man who had been doing all the speaking leaned across to another. His eyes drifted from Izzy to Jess, then Wren.

“Where are you from?” Rowan asked. Again the men didn’t seem to want to exchange.

The two men who had checked out the back of the truck came around, their assault rifles aimed at us. “It’s packed.”

“Listen,” I said. “We have more than enough back at the community for you, and anyone else. I’m gathering there are more of you?” He still didn’t respond. “Why don’t you come back with us?”

One of the major points that had been argued in the weekly meetings was how to determine who to bring back and who potentially was a threat. It was a tough decision. We knew that anyone we encountered in the city was a threat until cleared — meaning they would have to spend a few weeks in a section of Paradise under observation.

As odd as it might sound, it was smart. Ethan wasn’t going to bring in anyone without first vetting them. Anyone who had an agenda would usually screw up within the first two weeks. Of course none of the ones who were brought in were told how long they would spend in section A. This ensured that people didn’t just hold out for an extended period of time and then go nuts.

Very little information was shared with them in this period of time.

“Step away from the truck.”

We backed up. “Not you, or you, or you,” the man said to the women. “You can get in the back along with the rest of the merchandise.”

“Merchandise?” Izzy stammered. My eyebrows shot up.

Oh, he had just stepped on a land mine with that remark.