The Unraveling: Book 1 of the Bound to Survive Series

by Charley Hogwood

  “I’ll take them in the other car and drop them on the road somewhere.”

  “No! They here now. Take them into the house. Put a hood or some shit on their heads. I don’t want them seeing anything. Put their asses in the back bedroom,” Raul ordered.

  Mandy was a sniveling mess, but even though Amber was scared, she tried to keep her composure. Fighting back did not seem like a good idea at the moment, so she acted afraid and did as she was told. Mandy’s hysterics would keep the men distracted. Amber made sure the volume was all the way down on her phone and slid it into her sock. She saw Jake’s phone on the floor of the car and picked it up to use as a decoy in case the men took their phones away. Her phone only had 20% battery left; she hoped her dad was able to track it in time.

  At the last moment, Amber thought to take the small neck knife off and shove it down inside the belt of her pants, in case she was searched. This would turn out to be a good move.

  The men ordered the girls out of the car and pulled their shirts over their eyes and removed their bras to use as bindings for their raised arms. Raul snatched their phones and smashed them on the ground and the men ushered the stumbling girls into the house. As they entered, a large dog ran up and sniffed at them. The large cold nose caused Mandy to scream. Raul yelled at her to shut up. They were pushed down a short hall and into a dark room with a bed. The rooms were dark because the metal hurricane shutters were still mounted outside. They were told to stay put and not to cause trouble and everything would be fine. The door closed and the girls were left standing there, still bound.

  In the dark, the girls took a moment to listen to their surroundings, unsure if they should untie themselves.

  “Are you ok?” Amber asked Mandy.

  “Hells no, I’m not ok. Did you see what they did to Jake? They’re gonna pay for that.”

  “Let’s get untied,” Amber said. “These two seem like idiots but they are still dangerous.”

  They took turn helping each other. The bras were not a very good binding and untied easily.

  “My dad knows where we are and is on his way.”

  As Mandy was getting dressed again she looked at Amber like she had two heads.

  “How does your dad know where we are?”

  Amber explained that the family all had a GPS app that allowed them to know where everyone was and it also has a crash sensor to alert for help.

  “Besides, he called while we were driving and I told him what happened.”

  “But those men just smashed our phones on the ground,” Mandy said.

  “No, they smashed yours and Jake’s. I used his as a decoy,” Amber said, as she slid her phone from her sock, quickly checked the battery and sent a text to her dad.

  Mandy spent a lot of time lately looking at Amber like she was some kind of super spy. Amber double checked the battery and signal strength on her cell phone:, ten percent battery and one signal bar with a blinking roaming indicator. She hoped to herself that it would be enough. After she made sure the ringer was silenced, she carefully placed the phone face down behind a curtain near the window, hoping the signal was strong enough to reach through the metal storm shutter.

  The room was still dark save for a little light under the door from the kitchen down the hall. The girls listened for any indication of what was happening outside. Voices were echoing through the hall and it was difficult to tell exactly what was going on, but it sounded like only the two men. There seemed to be some agitation about the girls but the men seemed to feel in control.

  “…forget about them for now, we need to check the car for a Lojack or GPS tracker before some fools come around here trying to find it,” Raul said.

  “No worries. I’ll get the scanner and check it out. Are we taking it to the farm to chop or do you have a buyer in mind?” Hector asked.

  “Naw, we keeping this bad boy to chop, it’s worth ten times the value in pieces,” Raul replied.

  Hector headed out to the garage and located a scanner that could detect signals from a vehicle locator system and began to examine the entire vehicle for any sign of a signal. The usual location was behind the dash somewhere so he started there. “Goddamn mosquitoes!” Hector grumbled to himself as he splattered the monster blood-filled bug all over his right cheek.

  Cal flew up on the smooth paved road with one last tooth-chipping bump and slowed down just enough so as not to get pulled over. The last thing he needed was to explain to some small town cops why he and two other heavily armed men were headed into a drug run neighborhood in a hurry.

  “OK, Racer X, I can finally see the phone to start the map recon,” Rusty said sarcastically.

  “Based on your GPS tracking, the phone seems to be at a house on a larger lot. One main building, some sort of outbuilding or shed and a bunch of buses or trucks. At least that is what was there at the last Google satellite update.

  “It looks like we have one avenue of approach with a large canal at the rear of the property and one other house to the east about 100 yards or so. The area across the street appears to be some sort of banana plantation.”

  “Is there a place to park and observe before we commit to going in?” Shane asked from the back seat.

  “It looks like there is a road that could put us on the other side of the stand of banana trees with a short walk to opposite of the house. We should be able to see the house from the tree line, since according to the satellite image the front yard does not appear to have much vegetation. All the trucks and buses are on the right side of the lot,” Rusty answered

  “OK, let’s take a look at that option. Tell me how to get there,” Cal said to Rusty.

  “We are close; turn left on Avenue L just ahead. Then go a short bit and jog to the right over a small canal and continue left.”

  Cal wheeled onto Avenue L which soon turned to a dusty dirt road. Once over the canal he was driving alongside of it and beside a plantation of banana trees.

  Shane and Rusty had already been gearing up and checked their weapons. Since they had been at the range earlier, they were dressed in a quiet, tactical look. Rusty was wearing 5.11 Stryke pants, Rocky S2V boots, and a Scottevest TEC poly pullover. On the way out of his house, he grabbed one of his chest rigs that he kept on a half mannequin in his gun room. He also grabbed a bag that had his NODS, for night vision, and a short-barreled AR-15 with a suppressor. He was already wearing his Glock 19.

  Shane was dressed similarly with Coyote-colored British commando pants and an SAS sweater over a compression shirt. He didn’t have his rig but he had all he needed with his .308 AR with its suppressor and low-light scope. He also had his Sig P229 Elite sidearm and a sling pack with a few items he took to the range that day.

  Cal was hardly dressed for any such activities, wearing only cargo shorts, a t-shirt he got at a survival expo, and the pair of Crocs he had been wearing around the house.

  “Hey Sgt. York,” Rusty said to Cal, “you plan on assaulting a compound in a set of Crocs, do ya?”

  Cal glanced down and only then realized he ran off dressed like he was going to nap in a hammock.

  “Uhh, yes… yes, I do.”

  That seemed to be all that needed to be said. Shane and Rusty exchanged pained looks though the rear view mirror.

  Rusty added, “You did bring a gun, I hope?”

  “Yup,” Cal answered.

  Rusty gave up the line of questioning.

  Looking back at the cell phone map, Rusty told Cal to slow down and look for a farm trail on the left.

  “There it is,” he pointed.

  Cal turned in, shut off the lights, and after another hundred feet turned the truck facing the way they came. He switched off the dome light so when the doors opened the lights would not come on.

  Rusty donned his night-vision and stepped out to take a quick survey of the parking spot. Shane took the other side and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark. Cal walked to the back of the truck and opened his rifle case. Inside was his trusty custom AR w
ith an ACOG optic. Cal did not have a suppressor but he did have a DNA collector-style flash suppressor. It had small ugly teeth that were more intended for breaking glass and light duty breaching but would also tear small bits of flesh if it were used as a prod.

  The ACOG had a fiber optic thread that gathered any available ambient light to adjust the brightness of the sighting reticle. Each of the guys had LED lights mounted to the rails of their respective weapons. Cal also had his new Glock 43 in a Reaper concealed carry holster.

  Using the cell phone set to a very dim screen, the guys all got a quick orientation of the area. The signal on Amber’s phone had disappeared and Cal had a knot in his stomach thinking that they might have been too late. He tensed up in a way only a daddy looking for his little girl would understand and looked south.

  They agreed that the vehicle should be safe in this spot since the moon was not bright and they felt that no one saw them pull into the banana tree field. The plan was to move approximately 30 meters in a southerly direction until they reached the edge of the wood line at Canal Street. The road was a linear obstacle so they knew that even though this was a hasty mission, the road would let them know where they were.

  Not being sure how far left or right they might be to the target house, they would use a tactic called laying up. They purposely moved to miss the target to the left so when they hit the road they would have an easy choice of moving to the right until they saw the house they wanted.

  Once there, they would establish a hasty OP/LP which is an observation post. At that location, they would size up the target and gather any useful intel.

  The goal was to find the girls and get them back. The details, at this point, were a little more hazy. They had zero useful information on what they were up against.

  “Follow me,” Rusty said with a wave of his hand. A small green glow leaked out from the NODS onto his cheeks. Cal followed and Shane took up the rear. It was only a few short minutes to the road and they laid in almost perfectly. The house was directly across the street.

  They took a prone position about five meters back in the wood line interlocked their feet alongside each other and did the first most important thing one does in this scenario–listen for a minute. They all silently scanned the surrounding area for any sign of activity. Aside from a barking dog that seemed to come from inside the house, it was quiet. The sky was dark tonight with some light pollution shining over from the sugar refining plant to the east. This would make an approach a lot easier. There were no lights outside on the property aside from a dim bulb on the front porch.

  Rusty noticed that behind the last farm worker bus there was a Ford Mustang. He couldn’t make out the color with his night vision but it looked newer and out of place with all the old farm vehicles.

  The guys looked on for about five minutes and then Rusty and Cal stood up and moved back further into the wood line to scheme a plan. Shane stayed in place so there were always eyes on the target. Bad things can happen when you take your eyes away from a target when making an attack plan.

  Rusty started the conversation. “If that is the house, I don’t see any real activity. I think I saw a newer Mustang parked next to the last bus but I can’t tell if it’s the one we are looking for. With the hurricane shutters in place there is no way to know what is going on. Do you just want to knock on the door and ask to borrow a cup of sugar?”

  “If that is what it takes to get inside, that’s what I’ll do.” Cal checked his phone again for any contact by Amber. Nothing. He made a decision.

  “Let’s you and I move across the street and see what we find.”

  “Ok. We’ll leave Shane in place as overwatch. Someone should probably make it home alive and not in jail,” Rusty snarked. They moved back to the OP and Shane had an update.

  “It’s a good thing I stayed. Look over there to the right, just past the last bus.

  A man had come out of the house and was waving a piece of electronic equipment over a car partly hidden behind a bus. He did not seem to have a care in the world except for the constant swatting of mosquitoes. He opened the driver’s door and climbed in to scan the dash.

  “That’s our chance,” Cal said. “Let’s go meet him while his night vision is blinded from the interior lights. I’m sure he would be interested answering some questions with a muzzle in his mouth.”

  “OK, Tex. Let’s don’t go shootin’ things up if we don’t need to.”

  Cal was already moving across the white sand road. Rusty sighed and stepped out quietly to catch up.

  Hector had moved from the driver’s side around to the passenger’s side of the car and was lying on his back on the floorboard with his legs half out on the ground. His big frame was squeezed around the seat and he was reaching up under the dash with a flashlight. He was cursing in Spanish about the cramped floorboards of American sports cars when he felt something cold and sharp poke him in the chubby navel that was hanging out of his shirt.

  “Hey asshole, that shit hurts man,.” he said, thinking it was Raul.

  Glancing from under the dash, he saw the barrel of a rifle hovering over his chest and a big guy taking a knee just outside the car, looking at him. Hector wet himself at the terrifying sight.

  Cal noticed and took the opportunity. “It would be very embarrassing to die after having pissed yourself. Imagine the stories they will tell about you.” Cal took a moment and allowed Hector to envision the thought. While he did this, he noticed girls clothes and a jacket that looked familiar in the back seat. With renewed anger he moved the muzzle up under Hector’s chin.

  “I’ll only ask once. Where are the girls?”

  Hector winced as Cal slowly increased the pressure on his throat with the sharp teeth of the flash suppressor. While he could still form sentences, Hector answered. “I don’t…” Cal saw Hector needed some more encouragement and began to rotate the steel teeth on his throat, winding up some skin.

  “Aaaargh,” Hector gurgled, “in the house.”

  Rusty was standing guard a few feet away and the scene in his NODS was even more unsettling with Hector’s eyes glowing in demon fashion.

  Loosening up slightly, Cal continued.

  “Who else is in there?”

  Hector answered, “Raul. He’s loco, man. I would leave if I were you. He might do something crazy.”

  Cal told Hector to call him out.

  “If you make a single wrong move, I’ll split your family jewels wide open.” Cal had pulled a Karambit knife from his belt and laid the talon-like tip on the urine-soaked groin of Hector’s jeans. Hector’s wet spot got bigger when he saw it. The point of the blade was lightly penetrating Hector’s jeans and hurt as it rested on his manhood.

  Hector dialed Raul’s phone.

  “Hey, I need you to come out to the car.”

  “I’m eating! What do you want? It’s a simple job. Did you find a tracker?”

  “No, I don’t find one but I found something you want to see. Hurry up.” As Hector hung up he heard a string of Spanish cursing on the phone.

  The front door didn’t open as expected. Cal thought this guy would come out cussing and unaware. Rusty had taken a knee, scanning for any signs of trouble, when he caught a movement to his right, from the back corner of the house. He swung his barrel around just in time to see multiple muzzle flashes from an AK. The rounds sprayed the migrant bus behind him and stopped almost as quickly as they began.

  Shane was paying attention across the street and saw movement a split second before Rusty did. Raul had been suspicious and came out the back instead of the front. He peeked around the corner of the house and saw Hector was not alone. He saw Cal through the car but had not seen Rusty. When Raul raised the AK Shane took action and put a well-placed single round through Raul’s forehead.

  When Hector heard the shots and saw how surprised Cal was, he made a fatal error in judgement. He reached for a belt knife and in one swipe went for Cal’s throat. But he was still on his back on the floor of the
Mustang and flubbed the attempt. Cal reacted in the nick of time and jumped back from the swipe. In doing so, the curved razor edged point of the Karambit that was already positioned on Hector’s jeans dug in and dove deep into his groin, leaving a deep laceration along Hector’s manhood and down his femoral artery as Cal fell back.

  Hector squealed and grabbed his groin as he struggled to get out from under the dash of the car. The cut was too deep into his artery and Hector’s struggle faded shortly as he went limp on the ground. Rusty and Cal looked at each other in shock at how wrong this just went. They knew that the only thing they could do now was go find the girls and hope they were ok.

  Amber and Mandy, in the meantime, had searched the room for anything useful. Since they were unintended captives, the room was not properly prepared and there were plenty of items to work with. Mandy had found a fishing tackle box and a long curved fillet knife and Amber had located, of all things, a spear gun. She had never operated a spear gun but watched Shark Week on Discovery channel and had an idea as to how it worked.

  As Amber held up the spear gun, Mandy again found herself questioning Amber’s mental condition.

  “Girl, what do you know about spear guns?”

  “I don’t know. They are just like crossbows, I think,” Amber quietly replied.

  Mandy pressed on. “What do you know about crossbows?”

  “Hey, I watch Walking Dead.”

  Mandy gingerly stepped from in front of the waving spear tip as Amber clumsily pulled the strong rubber bands back and locked them on the loaded spear.

  Mandy took a safe position behind the bed and Amber’s wandering spear gun.

  “You just keep that thing pointed over that way, toward the door. Away from me, Captain Nemo.”

  Amber moved to the back of the room alongside Mandy and propped the spear gun on a bed pillow.

  As they were sitting there in a bedroom ambush position, they heard a burst of gunfire outside. Things were getting real again and in the dark room all they could do was hope–and prepare to fight like the third monkey trying to get a seat on Noah’s Ark.