by Connor Mccoy
“Hey.” Jacob scooted his chair a little closer to Domino without hitting one of the table posts. “I have a wonderful idea. Tonight, we barbecue. Put the best meat on the grill. Add some corn and potatoes, and we’ll have one hell of a party.”
Domino laughed. “A barbecue is one hell of a party for you now, huh?” She rose from her seat. “Me too.”
Once upon a time, parties were pretty damn rough for me and you, weren’t they? Jacob stood up and approached his wife, ready to kiss her. Indeed, life had been good to them. It had not come easy, but the results had been well worth it.
Before Jacob’s lips could make contact with his wife’s, a terrible scream tore through the air. It came through the window.
“My God!” Domino rose to her full height.
Jacob didn’t need his wife to tell him who that was. “Jubilee!”
Chapter Two
Brandon wasn’t sure what had happened. Everything had been going so well, so peacefully. Now his sister was on the ground, screaming horribly. She wasn’t hurt in the sense she was stung by a mosquito or had tripped, fell, and banged her leg. Jubilee’s screams came from cries of agony.
A moment ago, Brandon and Jubilee had been sitting at the pond, looking at the tiny movements within the water. Tiny fish were swimming past, too small to bite onto the bait that hung from their cane poles. Every now and then, the two of them would point to a bigger fish swimming by. However, those fish were too far from the poles. Would one of them ever notice the bait?
However, their attention had been interrupted by a shuffling noise. The shuffling soon turned to crunching. He and Jubilee turned their heads toward the woods. “You hear that?” Brandon had asked.
Jubilee raised her arms in a fighting stance. She was not someone to shy away from danger, but her widening eyes told Brandon that even she would not stick around if it was too dangerous.
“Someone’s out there,” she had said with a hushed whisper.
“Shit,” Brandon had replied.
Jubilee had shot him a glare. “You know Mom doesn’t like it when you say bad words.”
Brandon had picked up some bad words, sometimes from Dad, though his father tried his best not to say anything he did not want his kids to repeat. But after accidently striking his thumb with a hammer, could anyone really blame Dad for saying what came next?
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he had replied to his sis.
“Let’s bug out. It’s hard to see with those trees hanging over the fence. Somebody could be out there, and we won’t see them.” Brandon had narrowed his eyes to look. “Like a skilled ninja assassin.”
“Brandon, ninjas aren’t going to attack us. This is for real.” Jubilee had begun her jog down the dirt path that led back to the house. “C’mon!”
And then she fell to the ground with a loud scream.
“Jubes!” Brandon dropped to the dirt. Blood leaked down her right upper arm. “Are you shot?” Brandon’s voice squeaked. Then he noticed the wooden arrow sticking out of her flesh.
The crunching sounds grew louder. They soon turned to rapid footfalls. Brandon spun his head around. Someone was approaching.
Jacob burst out the front door with Domino just behind. His heart raced. That scream was blood curdling. He feared what had happened to his daughter. But what could have transpired out there? He had secured his property with a strong, tall fence. Predators could not get onto his land without some warning. And as for human intruders…
You’ve dealt with them before, Jacob thought. He had chased them off his land. And if they were hunting on his land, there was the chance his daughter had been caught in the crossfire.
“Jubilee!” Jacob cried as he raced past his crops toward the small hill just before his pond. “I’m coming!”
Once he crossed the hill, he had arrived at the pond. Jubilee was lying on the ground with Brandon standing over her. The boy was facing off against a tall man with a camouflage shirt, baggy pants and paint-stained boots. The man was holding an arrow and a bag over his shoulder. However, he was also sweaty, wide-eyed and shaking a little. He seemed more petrified than Brandon, whose fists were clenched and who looked ready to belt this guy hard.
“You son of a bitch! You shot my sister!” Brandon shouted.
“Whoa, wait! I’m just trying to help her. Yeah, it was all a mistake!” He started hyperventilating. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I didn’t mean to hit her!”
One look at the man’s face instantly told Jacob who he was. “Cribber,” he said under his breath.
Cribber. Jacob had a word for guys like him— “douchebag outdoorsmen.” They were the loser version of rural dwellers, not men who grew up in a culture of responsibility, knowing how to handle weapons and to obey the land laws, but amateurs who staggered onto his land and fired their arrows from bows like they were shooting foam objects from children’s toys. In Jacob’s mind, they were the rural versions of the punks who used to live in Jacob’s neighborhood. Cribber might not be the dumbest of such guys, but he was close.
“Jubilee! My God!”
Domino knelt down next to her and tilted her right arm up. Blood trickled down from the arrow wound. Jubilee’s eyes fluttered. She was going in and out of consciousness.
“Mom…Mommy…” the teen muttered.
“An arrow,” Jacob whispered.
He didn’t need further explanation. He knew what this shithead had done. He was trespassing—again—on his land and shooting at random birds and animals. Jacob had chased off Cribber and a fellow wanna-be hunter named Shellie. At least this time Cribber was alone.
“Whoa! Hey, Mister, uh, Avery. Look, I didn’t even see where that arrow went.” Cribber pointed to the sky. “I was aiming at a hawk. Going to mount him on my wall, you know.” He chuckled. “Mount him with his wings out so it looks like he’s going to fly down and shit, but he’s really not, you know?”
“A hawk,” Jacob said under his breath. “That’s why you shot my daughter?” His voice exploded. “For a goddamned hawk?”
Cribber waved his hands. “Whoa! Like I said, I wasn’t aiming at her. Hey, I didn’t even see the bitch.”
If Cribber had thought to apologize for calling Jubilee a bitch, he had no time to speak it. Jacob seized Cribber by the front of his camo shirt and head butted him in the nose.
Cribber screamed. Blood ran down from nostrils. It soon stained his shirt. He also dropped his bag of arrows and his bow onto the dirt.
“And that’s just for starters,” Jacob said, seething. He punched Cribber’s nose a second time, flinging blood off onto the grass. Cribber screamed again.
“Hey! What’s your blood doing on my grass?” Jacob asked, with a hint of sarcasm. “Your filth doesn’t belong on my property!” Then he drove a knee into Cribber’s chest.
“My land is too good for douchebags like you.” With that, Jacob opened his hand and released Cribber, who promptly fell onto the ground, clutching his chest and whimpering.
“You know, I think you’d enjoy being at the bottom of my pond. It’s a nice safe place. Oh, and I’m sure no one would think to look for you there. Actually, I don’t think there’s anyone who would want to look for you. You’re a piece of garbage. Who would even give a shit about you?”
Crying, Cribber finally said after all the beating, “Look, man, give me a break!”
“A break?” Jacob cracked his right knuckles. “Oh, by all means, I’ll give you—”
“Jay!” Domino cried.
Jacob stopped. His boot nearly stepped on Cribber’s bow. He turned to his wife, who seemed agonized by the whole scene. “Please, worry about your daughter. Forget about him.”
Jacob looked down at the bow. He stomped on it once -- hard. It cracked loudly under Jacob’s boot. Meanwhile, Cribber climbed to his feet, still dribbling blood. Jacob did not advance on Cribber any longer.
“You…you’re batshit crazy!” With that, Cribber ran off toward the woods.
Jacob let him go, but not witho
ut shouting, “If you come back here, I will run your head down into my pond and let my catfish eat your balls off!”
“Jay!” Domino grabbed him by the shoulders. “Please, forget him. Jubilee!”
The mention of his daughter’s name snapped him out of the remainder of his fury. What was Jubilee’s condition?
He ran up to his girl. Domino already had broken off the arrow shaft and discarded it, but the arrow point itself was missing. It must be embedded in her skin. Jacob’s stomach churned. For the moment, Brandon was pressing a cloth upon the wound to stop the bleeding.
“My God,” Jacob said, “we have to get her to a hospital.”
His eyes met Domino’s. “Sheryl.”
“But that’s far,” Domino protested.
“Two hours. But we don’t have a choice. We need a good surgeon, and the best I know is my older sis. She’ll be on duty for the next few hours. This…” He grimaced as he looked at Jubilee’s arm again. “This looks pretty bad. We need to go. Now!”
Jacob reached the black pickup truck near the back of his home, at the entrance to his garage. It was rare for them to take a trip into the metro area of Washington D.C., but today the journey was vital. He wouldn’t take his family there unless he didn’t have any other choice. The Richmond metro area was too far, and Jacob did not know any surgeons in nearby towns that could handle a wound like Jubilee’s. He had to go with a sure thing here.
Sheryl. God, this is going to be strange, barging in on you like this.
He hopped into the driver’s seat and started the ignition. The vehicle smoothly hummed to life. Jacob personally had maintained this vehicle and even made special modifications. It would not fail him and his family today. Jacob had built in some fail-safes that would see to that.
Jacob drove the truck down a small driveway onto the dirt road that ran through his property. With a left turn, Jacob was now on grassy land near the pond. After stopping the truck close to his family, he jumped out and rejoined them.
“All right. Let’s help her inside,” Jacob said as he dashed to the truck’s bed, which was shielded with a Diamond Back cover. Jacob yanked off the cover. Jacob would have taken a moment to feel satisfaction for how he had stocked his truck, but with his daughter hurt, he had to put his hard work into action.
He had outfitted his truck like a military equipment carrier. The bed was divided into numbered compartments. The compartment in the bed’s center contained a large red backpack. Red was appropriate, for it was the color of first aid. This pack held enough supplies to help Jubilee through the next couple of hours.
He hurried to Jubilee with the pack, who by now was resting in the back seat. Jacob unzipped the pack and started fishing out supplies.
“Get the wound as clean as you can,” Jacob said. As Domino worked on Jubilee’s wound, Jacob added, “The arrowhead is going to have to come out, but we can’t do that here.”
“Right,” Domino said.
Brandon had calmed down somewhat, but the boy still was a little jittery. Totally understandable after all he had been through.
“Brandon, get your get home bag. Have it with you, just in case,” Jacob said.
Brandon snapped his hand into a salute before running to the truck bed. Giving him something to do would help calm him further. Jacob just hoped this was the sole emergency for the day.
Get your get home bag. Brandon rarely had heard his father tell him to do that. He understood why, though. This was a long trip, and it paid to be ready.
Brandon climbed up on the truck’s hanging tailgate. Once there, he reached out for the compartment that was numbered zero. It was strange to have a compartment labeled with a zero, but his dad insisted on it. Zero was an important number, one that inherently seemed alarming. Zero was the final number in a countdown. Zero was part of the phrase “ground zero.” The very number denoted absolutely nothing, a void, an absence of any amount.
So, ironically, compartment zero held the family’s get home bags. Four backpacks lay nestled inside, each labeled with a single name: Jacob, Domino, Jubilee, Brandon.
Brandon grabbed the one with his name on it. He didn’t have to check inside to know what the bag contained. The boy pictured its contents—a change of clothes, a light tarp, energy bars, water, first aid kit, a flashlight, batteries, a map, a compass, and a face mask--virtually everything Brandon would need to get him through a rough situation.
Brandon turned the bag on its side. It also contained a firearm, which was bound to the bag by MOLLE webbing. It was a stark reminder that these bags were not frivolous items. A get home bag was exactly that, a bag of supplies to help get the wearer home—by any means.
A sudden rustle caused Brandon to whip his head around. A crow flew past. He exhaled nervously. Cribber’s actions had caused his heart to race whenever an unexpected noise cut through the air. He needed some reassurance. He wished he had super vision like a cyborg.
Or, he could just use his binoculars!
He unzipped the middle compartment. Dad had told them to keep binoculars in their bags so they could be on the lookout for bad actors. Brandon removed his and hung them around his neck. Now no hunter would sneak up on them!
After holstering his pack, Brandon hurried back to his family. Domino was scooting in the back to sit next to Jubilee. Brandon put the binoculars to his face and scanned the driveway in front of the house.
To his shock, the driveway was occupied by a visitor.
“Dad!” Brandon cried out, “Dad, come here! We got company!”
“Company?” Jacob joined his son. “Who could be coming over?” Jubilee’s trainer wasn’t coming in today, and if any of their friends were stopping by, they generally would have called ahead.
“It’s him!” Brandon handed Jacob the binoculars. “Mister Cowell!”
Chapter Three
Jacob’s hands clenched the binoculars. This was not what he needed. It was as if Cowell had decided upon the worst time to appear. Here Jacob was, his daughter bleeding from an arrow in her arm and her father having just beat up the guy who shot her. Cribber’s blood still was fresh on Jacob’s grass. How was this going to look?
Keep calm, Jacob thought. You’re totally in the right here. That asshole shot your daughter. He deserved what he got. Cowell can’t possibly blame you. You’re the victim. No, Jubilee is.
If a reasonable person was headed for his property, Jacob would agree. But Alexander Cowell was not a reasonable person, at least as far as Jacob was concerned. The social worker was suspicious of all “off the grid” types. In fact, he wasn’t thrilled about the rustic life at all. He looked upon the countryside as a decaying facet of the United States that eventually would be overtaken by bustling cities and suburbs. If you wanted to live out here, you were a barbarian or a cultist.
So, Jacob did not expect any fair treatment from Cowell. The man was sure to view Jubilee’s injury as the natural result of living out here and bring this matter before a court. And if he learned Jacob had beaten up Cribber, Cowell would take that as further evidence that Jacob was a man prone to violence and not to be trusted with his own children.
Jacob stormed back to his truck. “Hurry! We have to go. Now! Cowell’s here.”
“Shit!” Domino reached out and slammed the back passenger side door shut while Jacob rushed into the driver’s seat. Brandon piled inside through the front passenger side door.
Through the side mirror, Cowell’s car came to a stop at the outer fence. He was far away. In fact, he was nearly on the opposite side of the property, but if Jacob lingered for too long, Cowell was sure to spot them and demand an audience. Cowell likely would take a refusal as evidence that Jacob was hiding something.
“The back road,” Jacob said as he turned the ignition key. “We’ll take that, and then use it to get to Road 219.”
He started up the truck, not caring if Cowell heard it. He always could make up a story later about what he was doing. The less Cowell actually saw, the better.
<
br /> Jacob hit the gas. He sped down the driveway onto the dirt road that ran past the back of his crops. He had driven through the back of his property many times to transport building material for his fences as well as for his crops, but not recently. The dirt path was uneven and grown over in spots. Jacob really had to pay attention to discern where the actual road was, which wasn’t easy with the adrenalin rushing through his body. He had to take Jubilee to the hospital while escaping Cowell. That was more than enough to rattle him.
The road turned left. Jacob turned with it. However, he expected the road to keep going and not lead right into a wooden fence. Jacob slammed on the brakes. The front bumper of his vehicle stopped inches short of the fence.
“Damn it!” Jacob released the wheel. His hands shook. “I forgot I put up that fence a few years ago.” He opened the door and dove out of the truck. Of course he had. He had wanted to fence off his property to protect against animals and people like Cribber. He had forgotten that he actually succeeded in fencing off the very back of his land as well.
Even so, Jacob remembered he had installed a gate here as well. He still was transporting materials through here while he was erecting the fence.
“Gate! Gate! Where’s the gate?” He ran along the fence, searching for anything, a lock, a set of hinges, anything to mark the gate’s separation from the rest of the fence. Why couldn’t he remember? Was he so terrified of Cowell and his daughter’s injury that thinking straight just wasn’t an option.
Finally, his hand grazed a solid brass hinge. Here it was! Jacob had located the gate’s lock. One of the keys on his ring unlocked it with no problem.
“Dad!” Brandon shouted. The boy had left the truck and was pointing back the way they had come. “I think I see Cowell!”
Blood rushed Jacob’s arms and face as he pushed open the gate. Had the bastard actually climbed over his fence to get onto his property? Jacob wouldn’t put it past Cowell.
