W.A.R.S. Tournament Ch. 02

There was a stand of trees that was the last piece of land before you entered the water. In the middle of the glade was the familiar blue container. Max sighed a sigh of relief when he popped it open and saw a forty-five automatic and two boxes of shells. He searched for liquid shells, he didn't find any. He would be happy if there weren't any on this island. He filled a clip and loaded the gun. He sat back and took a deep breath. He couldn't care less about food right now. He walked to the water and tasted it. It was fresh water, he sure didn't worry about water now. They must be on an island in the middle of a lake. Max studied the horizon for land. He saw nothing, must be a big lake he thought.

The sound of gunshots began to ring out intermittently. Max couldn't care less if the others killed each other and he got out of this without firing a shot, he knew that wouldn't happen. Max went back to his hideout. He would work his way up the bank on the eastside of the island after dark. He settled in to take a break.

When Max felt it was dark enough he slipped out of the trees and headed toward the north end of the island. He stayed as close to the waterline as he could without getting too wet. It would be getting chilly later and cold feet wouldn't help him at all. When he had walked for almost an hour he noticed something dark riding in the waves next to the shore. It was a dead combatant. Max must not have been the only one that got jumped on leaving the copters. Max took a deep breath and checked the body for a gun. Nothing. He hadn't gone far when he saw two more floating bodies. No one had a gun before they hit the island, he left these two to ride the wash. Max figured that there were at least sixty guys out here, no telling how many women. Ferris came to his mind, Max wished he had punched the guy out. There were no women on Max's ride in and he hadn't seen any on the other copters or in the line to get chips. He pressed on toward the lodge.

When he had gone about as far as he thought he needed to be parallel with the lodge he headed inland. There were more than likely people sleeping out here, he inched forward slowly. Max decided to give up sleep tonight to get as much information on this place as he could. He felt secure in his hiding place to protect him to sleep later. Max almost stepped on the dark lump at his feet. He froze with his foot in midair. He listened for breathing. There was nothing. He slowly backed away. If he was asleep, Max wanted him to stay that way, if he was dead Max didn't care. He made his away around the area.

A shot rang out and a gun-flash lit up the area fifty feet ahead of max. It quickly went dark again. Max took aim in the direction of the flash. Max heard someone wheezing and then another shot and a flash and then silence. Max squeezed his trigger. His gun flashed and he hit the ground and rolled for ten feet or so in case someone was taking a bead on his flash. He heard a loud thump and a deep sigh in the trees ahead of him. Had he hit the guy? He thought so. Was he dead? Max gave a wide birth to the area.

In an hour Max was clearing the cover of the trees surrounding the lodge. It wasn't as big as it looked from the air. It was dark but parts of the roof of the lodge showed up against the slightly less dark sky. It mostly disappeared into the darkness of the trees. There had to be others inside. Max noticed one thing of interest. It looked like a light pole, barely outlined against the night sky, standing beside what looked to be, must be, a chimney. If there had been electricity here at one time there must be a generator, or maybe a nuclear power plant on the north edge of the island? 'Ok.' Max told himself, 'no room for a wise-ass right now.' If there had been a generator then maybe it was still on the premises. And if it was still on the premises, then maybe whatever fuel was used to run it was still here too. Max got on his stomach and began to crawl to the lodge.

When he got to the corner of the timber walls he moved down the side, hugging the structure. He worked his way around the stones of the fireplace. He looked up and saw the light fixture on the top of the pole, his eyes had not failed him. The moon was rising and it was getting way too light to be out here. He worked his way on down the side of the lodge. He hadn't gone ten more feet when his hand left the wood and disappeared into nothing. He eased his hand further and touched glass. A basement window. He worked it opened. He slid into the basement. The thought that he might be sliding into someone's lap didn't hit him until he dropped to the floor. He froze.

It was too dark to see down here. Max felt around the room with one hand his gun at the ready in his other. There was a work bench along one wall. The next wall was empty. He got to a door on the next wall that he assumed went upstairs. He made his way around the room and bumped into a machine close to the place he had come in. He felt of it. It sure felt like a generator to him. There was a fifty-five gallon drum sitting next to it. He crawled beneath the work bench and went to sleep.

The basement was barely lit when Max opened his eyes again. The sun was rising; it would soon be light enough to see what he had felt last night. With each passing moment Max could make out more and more. He started to look around again, this time with his eyes instead of his hands. It was indeed a generator, it obviously hadn't run in ages. He tilted the drum. It didn't have much of anything in it but something liquid rolled around inside it. He unscrewed the lid and took a whiff. It smelled very combustible to Max. He checked the tank on the generator. It was full, at least two gallons Max estimated. He started to concoct an idea. He found an almost complete roll of twine on the bench. There was a window above the bench, a much easier way to get in and out. There were some old rusty tools. A screwdriver, pliers, crescent wrench and hammer. Max gathered them up, he didn't know why but he wrapped them in an old towel. He found two six foot lengths of metal pipe against one wall. Only metal pipe to most, a deadlier than deadly weapon to Max.

He looked up to see a shelf along the top of the basement. It was lined with glass jars with some kind of canned goods. He took one down and opened it. Someone had put up some kind of fruit. It had long since gone bad. The smell almost knocked him down. There was a drain in the middle to the floor. Max poured the jars out, there were ten of them. The smell didn't linger long. He took the screwdriver and stabbed a hole in the crumbling rubber line coming off the generator fuel tank and placed a jar under it on the floor. He filled jars until the tank ran dry. He had seven full jars, he put the lids back on and placed them on the bench. He picked the drum up and laid it lengthwise on the bench. He opened it and filled two more jars. He had nine full jars. How would he get these back to his hideout?

Gunshots rang out close by. It had started again. He looked at the door. No way to lock it. He shook the generator. It was heavy but he began dragging it to the door. Soon he had the door barricaded. He heard scuffling up stairs. Two shots rang out and then a dull thump. Someone bought it. Max's heart stopped when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The doorknob began to turn slowly. Max aimed where he guessed a head might be. The door was pushed open a half inch and it quickly snapped back shut. Over and over the door was pushed and the weight of the generator pushed it back. Max breathed a sigh of relief when he heard footsteps going back up. He sat back in the corner and thought out his plan. The trees around the clearing of his camp were anywhere from three to six feet apart. He would tie the jars to the most strategic trees with the twine. Then he would tie a gun to each tree aiming for the jar on the next tree. He would worry about getting the guns later, he hoped there were plenty of them lying around the place by now. Then anyone entering the clearing would trip the string firing a bullet into a jar setting off the fuel and if that didn't set them afire it would at least startle them enough for Max to get the drop on them. Nine jars would just about do the trick. No way to test it, it just had to work. Max was hungry and there was nothing to eat. He got to work preparing his plan.

Max wrapped each jar in twine until it was well insulated. This would get the twine back to camp. Then he tied the two pipe lengths together. He tied four jars to one end of the pipes and five to the other end. He tied the sets of jars to each other, this was as secure as Max could get things. He would wait until dark and return to the fallen trees. He guessed it was about noon. An occasional shot would go off outside. He guessed the others had made the lodge their area of focus. He peeked out the windows every once in awhile. He saw what appeared to be bodies lying on the three sides of the building he could see. He decided to check for guns while he was here and take them back to his hideout tonight.

At one point during the day there was a huge outbreak of gunfire. It snapped Max out of a half sleep. He jumped to the window and peered out. Three guys were going at each other like animals. A fourth joined in before long. It appeared that two of them were hit by shots coming from the lodge. When the last of the four was running away a single shot rang out from upstairs, the guy hit the ground and didn't move. Four guns Max thought. He studied a rock formation toward the front of the lodge. Max had seen several outcroppings like this around the island. The rocks out front were about eight feet high and twenty feet long. These could come in handy later. He had a feeling he would be back here before it was over.

When it got dark enough Max crawled out the window above the bench. He retrieved four guns and looked around for more. He found plenty of dead bodies with plenty of wafers but their guns weren't all there. They had either dropped them close by or flung them as they fell he figured but he could only find three more. He only had seven guns when he got back to the basement. He strung them together and attached them to the pipe. He slipped the pipe out the window doing his best to stay silent. When he got out he headed directly toward the shore. When he felt he was far enough away from the lodge he took a break. The stuff wasn't that heavy, he just had to make sure he didn't break any jars against trees or rocks. He munched on a couple of wafers.

Max was on the shoreline and headed 'home' before the moon was fully up. He wasn't worried about anyone being out here so he was making good time. His figure was dark against the water. A crash in the trees ahead and to his right froze him in his tracks. He lowered the pipe and sat it gently into the brush at the water's edge. He inched forward, he heard some more rustling. He slipped toward it, the noise got louder and louder. In a small clearing he found two guys fighting hand to hand. He could just make them out. They must have stumbled onto each other in the dark and now they were having it out. He heard one of them plead. He was giving up. There was no giving up here. He heard the hissing gurgling sounds of a man's last breath. Max took aim on the other one. He was too close to leave him alive. Before Max could squeeze off a round a flash and gunshot went off behind the man. He fell forward with a thud his last breath escaping as he hit the ground. It seemed they had attracted more attention than just Max. Max adjusted his aim and fired at the new comer. Another thud and moaning hiss told Max he had hit the mark. He collected the gun, making eight all totaled, and returned quickly to his stash.

He was back in his hideout and munching on wafers in twenty minutes. They had been way too close to his camp for comfort. It worried him but he couldn't dwell on it. The last time he ate these disgusting wafers he had wine and Gina. His thoughts danced around her memory, her fragrance, her gorgeous face, her cute way, her sweet body. He longed badly for her but was glad she wasn't here with him now, not back in hell. He imagined that she was living it up somewhere safe, sound and peaceful. He wasn't far from wrong...

...Delores Atkins walked into Bob Tracy's office, the night editor at the Daily Digital. She had been assigned to him. She had to start somewhere. Her looks, attitude and confidence got her the job, it was up to him to train her. They were so impressed with her knowledge of this new W.A.R.S. outfit that they were planning on giving her part of the coverage of it when they started televising the tournaments next month. Bob kept asking how she knew so much about them, she would just shrug her shoulders and tell him scuttlebutt, word on the street.

She would get the less exciting bouts, the more experienced people would pick and choose their venues to cover. She would get a column in the online publication. She could upload her articles from anywhere in the world and that is exactly where she would be, anywhere in the world. She would cover the action from afar and interview the Survivor, as the winner was being billed, when the thing was over. Tracy would edit her work and send it out for public consumption. It was a shot in the dark, a perfect place for a beginner to begin, after all isn't that what beginners do...begin? And she would be out there with Max, she would be looking for him.

The IBC (International Broadcasting Company) won the bidding war for the rights to televise the tournaments and they would be sending teams all over the world soon. The perfection of the new antigravity camera would make the whole thing possible. These things hovered at predetermined altitudes and were controlled from a central location. Operators could watch the tournaments from the sky and never get near the action. IBC was pumping a lot of money into this, they would do anything to make it a huge payoff...

...Max woke to the sound of distant gunshots. He was taking a chance on setting up this barricade, working out in the open like he would have to. If someone came up on him while he was busy tying jars to trees it would all be for naught. He had to take the chance. He got to work. He placed the jars at the trees with the best advantage. He tied them when he had studied the placement and was satisfied with it. Then he worked on the guns, getting them aimed just right and secured to the trees stoutly enough. He used his own gun to place the ninth one but would have to get another gun somewhere, he couldn't be out here without a gun. He put only one bullet in each. They wouldn't be much of a weapon for anyone without shells if this thing backfired. He tied the handle safety mechanisms then the triggers. He had strings between every possible approach, no one could walk through here and not set off one of the jars. The brush was high enough around the trees that you would really have to be looking to see this trap. If anyone was studying the trees that hard he shouldn't have any trouble picking them off.

He returned to the safety of the trees and relaxed. He had worked until afternoon. He heard shots from time to time, if the siren went off right now it would be fine with Max. It must be close to three o'clock to the best of Max's reckoning. He was getting impatient before long. He hadn't heard a shot in over an hour. He decided to head back to the lodge.

He crept slowly up to the rock formation in front of the lodge. He eased up on top of it being careful not to expose himself to the view from the windows. There was a small crevasse on top of the rocks. Enough for Max to slide down into and be covered. No one could sneak up on him. He laid there and listened for any tell, tell signs. He heard nothing for the longest time. Then there was a shot fired from the lodge. He raised up enough to see a guy hiding behind a tree twenty feet from the rocks straight in front of him. Another shot rang out. Max took aim at the guy but decided to let the shooter in the lodge take care of him. Max was staying put and undiscovered. Max watched as the guy behind the tree got hit. But it was from behind! Someone was close, just at the bottom of the rocks as far as Max could tell. It didn't kill the guy behind the tree but when he turned to look behind him the shooter in the lodge nailed him in the back of the head. He fell forward and didn't move again.

Max heard someone scurrying up the rocks! They were just over the edge! Right above him! He saw a rough callused hand appear, reaching over the rock for a handhold. Max raised his gun without lifting his arm and took aim. A fierce looking face broke the plane of the rock. He was staring at the lodge and smiling as he raised his gun to fire. Just as he was about to shoot he looked down and saw Max. His eyes widened and he tried to jump backwards off the rocks. A shot from the lodge hit him right between the eyes. He fell back and Max didn't hear any more from him. Max closed his eyes to think. He snapped to attention when gunshots broke out in the lodge. Someone was inside with the shooter. Max took the chance and bounded off the rocks toward the lodge and flew to the back window of the basement. He scurried inside faster than he ever imagined he could move and he imagined he could move pretty fast.

Sounds coming from upstairs told Max they were still fighting. A gunshot would go off followed by several more and so on. Max heard steps approaching the door. Once again the door shook but didn't open. He heard the guy cussing as he went back up. Max knew he had to move the generator. It was time to face the music. With a few good tugs he cleared the door. That's when Max realized the man up the stairs had gone up to get a running start at the door. He was flying back down determined to open that door! There was nothing to stop it from opening now. The guy burst through the door and flew across the basement and slammed his face into the bench. He dropped like a rock. Max grabbed his gun. Max didn't know if he was unconscious or dead but he wasn't moving.

Max decided to hightail it back through the window and take his chances outside. He heard more steps on the stairs. Just as he cleared the window a bullet hit the glass shattering it. Max felt a sharp pain in his hip. He slid away from the window and returned fire. He looked at his hip quickly, it was just a flesh wound, probably from the breaking glass. He heard more shots inside and the moan of a dying man. The shooter finished the man who burst through the door. Max backed away from the lodge firing at the window until he was in the cover of the trees. It was time to draw this guy into his trap. Max worked his way around to the front. There were two more guns for him there. Max knew he was up against it. He had watched this guy pop several dudes with amazing accuracy. Why did it have to be some sharpshooter? Max watched as the man cleared the corner of the lodge heading to the front holding a vest in front of his face.

Max raced toward his trap. He turned and fired at the lodge. He had to draw the guy with him. A tree exploded next to his head, the guy was following alright. A piece of bark slapped Max's temple hard. He ran toward the trap. He had to get there before it got much darker. If he ran through his own trap and lit the place up for this guy he would be a sitting duck. He fired his gun in no particular direction. The report behind him told him that the guy was still with him. Max's ankle was giving out on him. How fast was this guy? How big was he? He was a great shot, Max knew that much and size didn't matter. He kept flying as fast as he could. He fired again this time the report behind him was closer, the bullet hit a tree just beside him. Damn, this guy was good, too good! Max raced on firing, he had emptied two guns, he didn't know how many shots he had left. He was getting close now. He almost didn't recognize the place in the growing darkness. He dove over the string just as he got to it. He leaped over the fallen trees and turned to fire. He squeezed off three rounds...the fourth was silent! He was out of shells! He raced into the hideout and retrieved another clip from his stash! He was reloading when the clearing exploded to a yellow orange fireball. He looked up to see the shooter flying through the air spread eagle. Max reloaded. He could just make out the jars in the firelight. He fired at the one closest to the man, he missed on the first two shots but the third one hit the target. Another roaring fireball lit up the clearing. Max crawled out the opposite side of the trees and looked over searching for the man. He saw him stumble toward the trees. He was lit up by the fire. Max fired at another jar near him. He hit it on the second try. The shooter flew away from the flames and landed in the clearing. Max eased around the pile of trees to see the damage. The man laid there lifeless. Max walked up on him slowly. The man raised himself up on his elbows and looked at Max. This guy was a mess, his legs were bleeding; Max figured it was the effects of the exploding glass jars. The shooter looked around him for his gun, it was nowhere to be seen. He closed his eyes and laid back waiting for Max to shoot. He didn't. The man covered his face with his hands and let out a scary insane laugh. He looked up at Max finally.