Lone Journeyman Book 2: Storm Clouds: Lone Journeyman, #2

By Frank Reliance

Book 2 in the series continues where Book 1: Alligator Dances left off, with the tall man's further adventues into the post-econolypse wasteland in search of a place to survive for good, after joining up with a survival group in the Florida Everglades. Be sure to read Book 1: Alligator Dances first, as this is a continuing story.

Book 3: New Lands out now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Reliance
• Release date: Mar 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524215750

Book preview

1.

The plane kept shooting as it passed over the mansion once more.

Sam hugged the inside wall on the wooden porch of the mansion, hoping the old wood was still tough enough to stop any bullets that came his way. But if the bullets were of a high enough caliber than it wouldn’t matter; they’d pass right through.

His thoughts went to the other side of the house that was on fire, but he was pinned down for now, with Anna, Julie, and the others, until the attacking plane went away. Putting out the fire would have to wait.

He could still hear the engine of the plane and the shots it was firing, but it was over the roof of the porch and out of sight. The smell of burning wood met his nose and made his eyes sting. He watched the people caught out in the open, hiding behind whatever they could and shooting back at the plane. Some were laying on the ground, bleeding or already dead.

Then the plane was over the house on the other side and moving away. Sam stepped out from under the awning and took a couple of aimed shots at the back of the plane, along with the rest of them that had guns. It looked like he hit it, as he did see a puff of blackness come from the tail of the plane, but it was hard to be sure.

The plane banked over the trees and flew out of sight for the moment. Maybe coming around again, he didn’t know. There were only a few seconds to find out.

He rushed around to the other side of the house where Daytona and John were spraying down the flames with a garden hose. They were making some progress, as the fire was not so big, yet. Sam noticed that Daytona had a bullet hole through the top of his cowboy hat, but he saw no blood, so it probably just passed through. Lucky!

Anything I can do? Sam yelled.

Knock that plane down if you can! Daytona said.

I’m trying! I think I hit it, Sam said.

Good! Hit it again. Here it comes, again! Daytona took his gaze down from the sky and tapped his son John on the back as the plane came towards them. Let’s go! They dropped the hose and ran under the porch for cover. Sam ran after them.

Don’t you have any bigger guns? Sam asked as they stood against the back wall of the porch, catching their breath. What we need is an anti-aircraft gun! Sounds of gunfire were now coming from all across the compound as the plane returned.

A bunch of water fell down and made the flames hiss, thrown out a window by someone on a higher floor.

Some of the guys have machine guns with some pretty big bullets. I can hear them firing now. Good time to have an RPG or something, huh? Daytona said. He had his hat off, wiping the sweat from his face and noticed the hole in his hat. He shook his head and then put the hat back on. My lucky hat, I guess!

Sam nodded. We’re just lucky that it’s only one small plane and they can’t carry much ammo. With any luck we can drive them off with the guns we have.

The plane passed over them, shooting more bullets into the top of the house and into the ground around them. It seemed to be out of Molotov’s, thankfully. The plane was leaking oil, it looked like, trailing a black line behind it.

It’s hit, Daytona said, peering up.

Oh, thank God, his wife Anna said, holding onto his arm. In her other hand she had a shotgun that she’d brought out from the house.

It won't stay in the air long, now, Daytona said.

She looked at Daytona. Your hat! She put her hand over her mouth, breathing in sharply.

Daytona took off the hat, showing her his head was untouched. He put his finger through the hole.

Oh... she sighed. Thank God you're not hurt!

Sam stepped out from the porch and took another shot at the departing plane. Yep, looks like we hit it. It shouldn’t be in the air long now.

As soon as he spoke those words, he saw the plane start to lose altitude quickly as it sped away from them. It dropped down over the trees, trying to turn, but it went down, fast. A few moments later they heard a crash and then a puff of black smoke rose in the air.

That should do it, Daytona said. Let's get this fire out, then we'll go after the plane.

John ran into the house. The fire extinguishers! I’ll use those! Keep using the hose! he called to Daytona.

Daytona clicked on the walkie-talkie as he stepped from the porch, The plane is down. I repeat the plane is down in the west end of the compound. Anyone close to go and check on it? If there are survivors I want them held, alive. Alive, I repeat! Daytona, out! He picked up the hose that was still running with water and resumed putting out the flames on the house.

With the help of Julie on a top floor who was dumping water out of a window onto the flames below, and John who used a couple of fire extinguishers, leaning out another window, they soon had the fire out.

Daytona shut off the hose and looked at the house. We got lucky this time. If they had hit the roof we would have been done for, I think. A lower part of the house was charred, but it didn’t look like the damage went very deep, probably just the first level of wooden slats that could be replaced.

He didn’t have time to wonder about the house much more, as he needed to go to the crash site and see what was going on. He made for a jeep. I’m going to the plane, want to come? he asked Sam.

Sure, Sam said. Let me grab Hopper. He ran over to Hopper’s truck, parked behind a barn. It was filled with bullet holes and the windows were shattered. Oh, no... Sam said, stepping close to the truck and opening the door.

Hopper was on the floor of the cab, in a large pool of his own blood and glass pieces.

Sam checked him for a pulse but Hopper was already going cold. Hopper’s eyes were fixed and stared off into space. Sam sighed. He put Hopper's eyelids down and said a quick, silent prayer.

Then he carefully picked up Hopper’s gun and took the ammo clips from his belt. Goodbye, he whispered. He exited the truck, then went back to the jeep with a sullen expression on his face.

Well? Daytona asked. What's wrong? Where's Hopper?

Sam shook his head. He’s gone. All shot up.

Dammit! Daytona said. He hated to lose anyone on his watch.

John hopped into the back of the jeep with a machine gun. Sam slipped into the passenger seat. Daytona started up the jeep and they tore off.

Heading for the plane, now, with John and Sam, Daytona said into the walkie-talkie. Anyone nearby that can assist, meet us there right away. We got any other perimeter problems? Anyone reading me?

Sam sat seat cleaning Hopper’s blood off Hopper’s gun. Daytona tried to keep his eyes on his driving, but he couldn't help taking a glance or two at what Sam was doing. What a shame, Sam thought. He wasn't a bad guy.

Daytona's walkie-talkie made the sounds of static. But a few moments later one of his men answered back, We're all the way over at the first gate. There was an access attempt here, but we stopped that. You should come take a look when you can. Over.

Daytona spoke into the walkie-talkie, Roger that. As soon as I’m done with the plane I’ll head over. Out. He looked at the road, not making eye contact with Sam. I knew it! He banged the wheel.

Coordinated attack? I’m not surprised. Even though it was only one plane, they were prepared, with the Molotovs. And the amount of ammo they had, Sam said.

Someone was out to get us alright. They almost succeed. It was just blind luck that we made it through. Next time we might not be so lucky, Daytona said.

But who? Who’d want to attack us? What did we do to anyone? his son John asked.

We didn’t do anything, as far as I know. But that doesn’t mean they won’t try to take what we’ve built up. People used to get robbed in the best of times, so imagine what the criminal types will do now? Daytona gripped the wheel tightly and sped them through the dirt road in the swamp.

Any idea who it was? John asked.

I could speculate, but we’ll find out soon enough, Daytona said.

The jeep bumped along at high speed, Daytona almost losing control a couple of times in deep sand.

Why don’t you slow down? We’ll end up in a crash next, John said. Even for a younger man enamored with speed, his father’s driving was causing him some concern.

What if that plane’s on fire and it spreads to the fields? Or to the swamp? I don’t think we could handle something like that, Daytona said.

Well, if it’s on fire, it’s on fire already, John said. This was a good point, as the plane had gone down several minutes ago, and it was taking them some more minutes to reach the wreck. If there were a fire it would be out of control by now in the dry grass the plane had landed in.

But still, Daytona didn’t slow down and the jeep bucked like a bronco over the bumps.

What if the men survived? They could be on the run. We’ll need to round them up, Daytona said, ending the questions. John nodded and held on tighter.

They began to see plumes of black smoke through the trees of the swamp. Daytona brought the jeep to a stop.

Now what? John asked.

We need to go that way and have to go on foot, Daytona pointed in the direction of the smoke. He unhooked his seatbelt, grabbed his rifle from its holder and stepped out. He trudged off the road in the direction of the smoke, heading into the swamp, not waiting for the others. He kept to the sandy patches, avoiding the murky water.

Ah, great, John said,  brushing flies away from his face. He slowly got out, too.

What? Through the swamp? Sam blinked, calling out.

We gotta see what happened! Daytona called back. Sam knew he was right, so he gritted his teeth and followed.

Daytona pressed the button on the walkie-talkie, We left our jeep on the west road. Going to the plane on foot, it’s the only way. Over.

One of Daytona’s guards came over the radio, Roger that. We’ll be there soon. Out.

Daytona, Sam, and John were able to keep to the dry areas for the most part, but they still had to wade through some of the murky water, getting their feet wet. Luckily, the swamp water was not deep at that part.

Watch out for ‘gators or men from that plane, Daytona whispered back, holding his rifle high. John went after his father, with his own rifle at the ready.

Sam followed them, feeling a bit weighted down by the extra gun of Hopper’s, but he didn’t want to leave it in the jeep for one of the men from the plane to find, should they have survived the crash and happened to wander by. He supposed that having another gun could come in handy, too. You never know, he thought, trying to slow the rapid beating of his heart by doing some deep breathing. Hair on his arms was sticking up in goose bumps from fear.

Daytona soon saw daylight growing ahead. He moved quickly but also as quietly as he could. He put the ear piece of the walkie into his ear, then made hand signs to John.

John turned back to Sam to make sure he was getting the messages: slow down, quiet, we’re almost there.

They stepped out of the water and exited the cover of the Weeping Willows, the sunlight once again hitting them fully. It got hotter immediately. Up ahead, only about a hundred feet, was the downed plane in a field. It sat in a ditch it had made in the grass and mud, still smoking with parts of it on fire.

Maybe we shouldn’t get too close? It might blow up, John whispered to Daytona.

Daytona turned back to him. I don’t think it will. Look how the wings are broken off, and I don’t see any fuel left. There’s still a chance, but I think it’s alright. I’m going to take a quick look inside, see if I can find anything that will lead to who did this. You two stay back here and cover me. Then he was gone, running across the field.

Shit! John said and aimed his rifle at the plane, covering his father.

Sam did the same and also took the odd glance behind, just in case anyone was trying to sneak up on them through the cover of the darker swamp.

Daytona was at the plane in seconds and saw that the front door was closed, the cockpit filled with smoke. The windshield was cracked. Probably the pilot is in there, dead, he thought. The passenger, too, I’ll bet.

He touched the door handle quickly, to see if it was too hot. It was not bad, so he flung the door open and stood back, pointing his gun into the plane. Smoke and heat billowed out, forcing Daytona to step back and let it dissipate.

He looked inside after the smoke had cleared and could see the charred body of the pilot, unrecognizable as anyone, much less a human, almost. The clothes were all burned and melted too, offering no clues as to the man’s identity.

Daytona went to the sliding door on the other side. It was partly open. He could see inside but most of the interior was either melted, or on fire, so he didn’t venture inside. He looked down and saw footprints on the ground, heading off across the field. One got away! He turned and waved to John and Sam and started walking back to them, fast.

Let’s go! said John. He ran towards the plane.

Sam pushed off too, and ran after him, moving into the bright sunlight.

Daytona stopped a short distance from the plane. The pilot is dead, but the other man got away. See his prints? He pointed to a set of footprints going from the plane.

Holy shit! John said, looking around wildly. Do you think he’s close?

I doubt it. Probably running like hell, unless he’s injured. We’d better hope he is and that slows him down, otherwise we might never find him in that. Daytona pointed at the swamp. He clicked on his mic, We spotted the plane. The pilot is dead, burned up, but the other one got away. We are going to follow his...tracks.

A jeep came to a fast stop on the dirt road near them, skidding on the loose rocks. Out of it jumped a couple of Daytona’s men Paul and Tom, who came running.

We heard your call, Paul said. One got away?

Yeah. There, see, Daytona pointed to the footprints that came from the plane.

Roger that, Tom said, cocking his rifle.

They formed a staggered line and followed the footprints into the undergrowth. Sam moved along with the group as quietly as he could, but he was not as skilled in the swamps as the rest of them were. Insects buzzed in their ears as they moved through the sandy areas of the swamp, taking bites out of them. The heat was getting stifling, the odors from the rotting vegetation becoming unbearable.

Daytona was on point, following the footprints. He stepped carefully, so as not to destroy the prints for the man after him.

Shots rang out ahead.

Sam dropped to the ground with the others, but no one returned fire because they didn’t know where the shots had come from, exactly, in the shady area ahead.

So they waited until the guy shot again, then they could see the muzzle flash and knew where he was.

Daytona was the first to open up with his rifle. The others quickly joined in. Even Sam took a couple of shots. Birds squawked and scattered overhead.

After they had all gotten off some shots, they stopped, letting the echoes of their rounds dissipate. The quiet of the swamp settled back in.

When no return fire came back, Daytona got up and quickly ran to a position ahead, using a thick tree as cover. The rest of them did the same, zigzagging across the distance to where they saw the muzzle flashes.

They found the guy laying on the ground, still and bloody. They took no chances and kept their guns trained on him, as Daytona kicked the man’s gun away. Daytona bent down and checked the man’s neck for a pulse, not expecting to find one, as he was very bloody and not moving.

Daytona got up and shook his head. He’s gone. Dammit! I was hoping we wouldn’t have to kill him so we could get some information. Someone go through his pockets, please, I need some air. I gotta think this out. Daytona walked off a few paces and leaned against a tree.

John