by Tom Abrahams
His vision blurred. Another creak. He blinked. Tried to focus. Another creak. He narrowed his gaze like a man without his reading glasses staring at fine print. He held his aim. His unsteady hand. The blood pooling beneath him. It was warm, sticky, slippery. He couldn’t focus.
Another creak and a blurry figure stepped into the hall. Then focus. Clarity.
The man had his rifle aimed chest high. He didn’t see Rudy on the floor until it was too late. He tried shifting his aim, lowering it, but a succession of rounds peppered him. One after the other, in a seemingly random pattern, shattered his knees, punctured his gut, made less of a man of him.
The man managed a single pull of the trigger, aiming at the ceiling as he collapsed. Plaster showered Rudy as he rolled onto his stomach. With the back of his pistol hand, he wiped the sweat from his eyes, clearing his vision. The target was rolling on the floor, his legs splayed oddly, his hands trembling. Odd gurgling noises, like a baby blowing raspberries, came from his mouth.
Pushing aside the debilitating pulses of nausea that racked his gut, Rudy managed to push himself to one knee. He looked down at his arm, his body; his clothing was drenched in his own blood. The fabric stuck to his body. He couldn’t see the tears in the shirt to know where he’d been shot. There was too much blood.
As he pushed himself to his feet, he slipped in it, but caught himself. A lightning bolt of electric pain sparked across his midsection. Rudy was light-headed, the edges of his vision sparkling with light. His focus was intermittent, mouth dry, breathing uneven.
Rudy shuffled, dragging one foot, toward the stairs. At the same instant he reached the bannister, a guard appeared at the top, his rifle drawn. Rudy didn’t have enough time to raise his weapon before the guard opened fire.
CHAPTER 8
APRIL 17, 2054, 11:50 AM
SCOURGE +21 YEARS, 7 MONTHS
BAIRD, TEXAS
Lou was on the horse, David in front of her in the saddle, her hand gripping the leather reins when Norma burst into the barn. The echo of the wind chimes danced louder in the still air with the door open.
Ghostly white, Norma moved past a wooden bench loaded with electronics. Wires stretched from the table, up the wall, and to the roof’s antenna. She was breathless and waving the gun in her right hand. “We’ve got to go,” she said. “Now.”
Lou searched the open door expectantly then locked eyes with Norma. “What about—?”
“Now,” Norma growled, grabbing the saddle horn of the other horse. She planted a foot in one stirrup, pushed, and swung her other leg over the saddle. “We are out of time.”
Lou kicked her heels into the horse’s ribs and clicked her tongue against her teeth. She tugged on the reins, directing the horse toward the opening. It jerked its head and responded.
The horse was already jogging when it left the barn. The acrid odor of spent gunpowder fouled the air. Norma was behind them at first, but pulled alongside as they turn right and headed north toward the southeastern edge of TP Lake.
Lou had one hand on the reins, the other around David. She pulled him into her belly, reminding him to hold onto the horn with both hands. She glanced back at the main house. There was no sign of anybody or anything. It was quiet. Too quiet.
“Where’s Rudy?”
Norma shook her head. She kicked the horse and leaned in, urging it north, past the lake. Lou’s full attention was on Norma. The woman was stone, but there was something in her eyes that answered Lou without words.
They rode north, the cracked edges of the lake to their left. The brown water at its center was still and unmoving. Lifeless.
Lou’s chest tightened. The breeze from their movement stung her eyes.
“Stop the horse!”
Lou didn’t understand at first. It took a beat.
Norma yelled again, “Stop the horse!”
Lou’s attention shifted past Norma and toward the railroad tracks that ran east to west on the north side of the lake between their position and the highway.
Standing end to end, like an army measuring its opponent before charging, were six mounted Pop Guard soldiers. They had been smart.
“Turn around,” Norma told her. “We can’t go this way.”
“We can’t outrun them,” Lou said. “Those horses are bigger and stronger. You can see it from here. They’ll overrun us.”
“So what do you suggest?” Norma snapped.
“We fight,” said Lou.
Norma’s eyes widened. “You’re a lunatic.”
“I sent Dallas to get the lunatic,” Lou said. “I’m just a hopeless optimist.”
Somehow, in the midst of this, Lou drew the faintest flicker of a smile from Norma. No sooner had it flashed than it was gone.
“You have a child,” said Norma. “You can’t fight. We need to run.”
Norma was right. Fighting was stupid. If she didn’t have David, if she wasn’t pregnant, Lou would unleash her fury on these intruders. Then again, if she didn’t have David, if she wasn’t pregnant, the intruders never would have come.
“Okay,” said Lou. “Let’s go.”
The women turned their horses and spurred them back toward the main house. The horses jogged at first then galloped. David held tight to the horn, his body bouncing in the saddle, his back rubbing against Lou’s belly. She held him around his chest with one hand and guided the horse with the other.
“We’re going to be okay, buddy,” she said. “I got you.”
He put one small hand on hers and squeezed. His chest was rising and falling, his heart racing.
The horses were coming now, the men atop them shadows in the sunlight and clouds of dust that bloomed underneath them, billowing outward and upward like smoke from a fire.
Lou and Norma cut their horses wide around the back side of the outbuildings and then west past the barn toward the main house. Norma rode ahead, urging her horse to take the lead. That was when Lou saw the first of the bodies.
Lou wasn’t squeamish; she’d killed before. But it had been some time since she’d been so close to a dead body. And David hadn’t seen one.
She spoke in his ear again, her face bumping against him as the horse slowed. “Cover your eyes, baby.”
“Why?” he asked, but did it anyway without an answer. His hand left hers and he put it over his eyes.
As they rounded the corner of the house, two bodies emerged, both of them flat on the ground as if planted there. Limbs twisted, ghastly expressions hardened on their faces, they were without question dead. A crack of gunfire drew her attention toward Norma and then to the steps leading from the yard to the porch.
Norma pulled her animal to a stop. Lou did the same. A lump thickened in her throat. She couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t breathe. Rudy was standing there. He was bloodied and so badly wounded. The right side of his body seemed to hang on him, like a marionette, and his stance was such that he wasn’t upright of his own volition.
The man behind him, the one with a gun pointed at his head, held the strings. The Pop Guard jabbed the weapon into Rudy’s temple. Rudy didn’t seem to notice. Lou couldn’t be sure he was even conscious.
“Toss your weapons,” the guard spat. “Do it. Or I kill him right here, right now.”
Norma complied, tossing her handgun to the dirt. She raised her hands above her head.
“You too,” the guard said to Lou. “Do it.”
“I don’t have a gun,” said Lou. “I’ve got my son.”
The guard stared at her, measuring her, his eyes darting nervously across her, David, the horse. He nodded.
“Get off the horses,” he said. “Now.”
Lou sat in her saddle, not moving. “Stay on the horse, David,” she whispered.
Norma dismounted. The sound of the coming horses rumbled in the distance. It was thunder on the horizon.
“Get down,” said the man.
“Can I get some help?” Lou asked. “I’m pregnant. You know I’m pregnant. That’s why—”
The man
motioned to Norma with the pistol then aimed it at Lou. “Help her get down.”
Norma started to move.
“Stop,” said the guard. His voice was tremulous. His nerves raw. “Don’t move.”
Norma shrugged, keeping her calm. Somehow she stayed calm. “You told me—”
“Slow. Move slow.”
The rumble of the coming horde was loud now. They couldn’t be too far.
Norma reached Lou. They were maybe fifteen yards from the man, from Rudy. Lou reached out with one hand to Norma, keeping the other free.
“Careful now,” said the man, stepping to the side of Rudy, exposing himself for just long enough. “No funny—”
The knife slid from her sleeve with a wrist flick. The Damascus steel was warm in her hand, the flat handle as comfortable as an old glove. It was in her fingers for a split second.
As she dismounted, Lou forcefully whipped the throwing knife underhanded. It spun end over end, whipping the short distance with force, its revolutions blindingly fast. Before the man even saw it coming, it was in his chest.
Then Rudy came alive and shoved an elbow backward, driving the knife past its hilt. The guard gasped and stumbled back. Rudy dropped to his knees and collapsed, the surge of violence enough to drain him.
Norma rushed to the porch. She took the gun from the dying guard’s hand and stood over him. She said something Lou couldn’t hear and fired a single shot. Then she dropped to the ground to check her husband.
Lou hurried to the body closest to her, took the rifle and an extra magazine, and clambered back to the horse. Instead of climbing into the saddle, she reached out for David.
“Can I open my eyes?” asked David.
“Not yet,” said Lou. He sank into her arms and she set him down. She took the larger of the saddlebags and carried it on her hip to the nearest of the much larger horses. It was an Appaloosa. Mottled and sleek, it was a beautiful horse. And it was fast.
She slid the rifle snug in its scabbard and attached the pack at the side. Lou still had a pack on her back.
The horde of men was coming. They were at the edge of the lake now, making a straight line for the house. They’d be here in less than three minutes. They would overrun Rudy and Norma. Yet if she stayed, she and Norma could take out six.
It was stupid. It was rash. It was a horrible thing for a mother to do. But Lou couldn’t abandon the two people who’d stood by her when so many others had left.
Lou clenched her jaw. She wasn’t going to let them down. They wouldn’t leave her. She couldn’t leave them.
CHAPTER 9
APRIL 17, 2054, NOON
SCOURGE +21 YEARS, 7 MONTHS
BAIRD, TEXAS
Rudy was cold, his body weak. He’d lost so much blood.
“Talk to me,” Norma said, taking his hand. “Rudolfo Gallardo, stay with me. We’re going to be okay.”
Rudy opened his eyes and squeezed her hand.
Lou marched toward them.
“What are you doing?” asked Norma. “You need to go. Take David. Get away.”
“I can’t do that,” said Lou. She extended a rifle toward Norma. “Get up. I figure we’ve got three minutes.”
Norma stared at her and scowled. This girl was a lunatic. Norma cursed at her, at the predicament, and gently laid her husband’s head on the ground. She pulled off her jacket, balled it up, and tucked it under his head.
Standing, she took the rifle. “Why three minutes?”
“The guard’s cavalry is almost here,” said Lou. “I’m not leaving, so you’d better help me.”
Norma cursed again and leapt onto the porch. “Help me with him.”
They set down their weapons and picked up Rudy’s heavy, limp body. Together they half carried, half dragged him over the bodies and into the hallway.
“That’s as far as we’re getting him,” said Norma. “I got your boy.”
She picked David up with her free arm and settled the boy on her hip. Lou handed Norma the rifle and they clambered up the stairs to the second floor. From high ground, they had a better shot at picking off the guards.
Norma ran into one bedroom and Lou went to the other. Norma set David on the floor. Then she moved to the bed and yanked the thin mattress from it.
“Get under this,” she said. “It’ll keep you safe.”
“Can I open my eyes?” David asked.
Norma hadn’t noticed until now that they were shut. She smiled at him and put a hand on his head, tousling his hair. “Yes, sweet boy,” she said, “you can open them. But you might want to cover your ears. It’s going to get loud.”
David hid behind the mattress, burrowing himself underneath it. Norma hustled to the window and unlatched it. She pulled it up and knelt, resting the barrel on the wooden sill.
The sun was almost directly overhead. There were virtually no shadows outside. The air was warm and dry, and the dust tickled her nose.
Lou, she hoped, was in the corner bedroom with windows on the north- and west-facing sides of the house. She’d be the first line of defense.
David’s feet stuck out from beneath the mattress. His tiny little feet. Norma thought they were so cute.
“Your mother is a moron,” she muttered under her breath. “The two of you should be long gone. She’s risking everything by—”
The first reports of gunfire broke the relative silence. Norma whirled to her right, keeping her eye to the rifle’s sights. Nothing yet. She scanned back toward the deer stand. No movement. Another volley of gunfire crackled through the midday stillness. It was return fire.
It was a gunfight now. And Norma was blind. Plus, she was useless.
She got up from the floor and called out to David as she rushed past him, “Stay there, sweet boy,” and bounded along the hallway, pinballing herself off the walls until she gathered herself and launched into the corner bedroom.
Lou was beside the window, hiding. The rifle was pointed straight up toward the ceiling. Rounds zipped through the air, puncturing the walls on either side of the door. Norma dropped to the floor. She banged into a dresser, the mirror atop it wobbling and falling to the floor, shattering next to her. A jagged shard cut across her leg, drawing blood. She crawled to Lou, staying low.
“You should have gone,” she said, wincing. “What good are you dead? If you’re dead and Marcus gets here, he’ll kill you.”
Lou rolled her eyes. Then her expression hardened, her gaze dancing around the room.
“Where’s David?” she yelled over the gunfire.
“Safe in the other room,” she said.
The return fire paused, and Norma reached beside her, picking up a large piece of the mirror. She lifted it up above the windowsill and angled it toward Lou.
“What do you see?” Norma asked.
“Four are down,” said Lou. “One of them might be alive, but he’s not going anywhere.”
“There were six,” said Norma. “Weren’t there six?”
Lou nodded and pulled a knife from her hip. The two of them exchanged glances and bolted for the hallway back toward the front bedroom.
They were at the top of the stairs, feet from the front bedroom, when one of the guards appeared halfway up the steps. His rifle was already at his shoulder. He managed a single shot that exploded into the wall next to Lou’s head. He wasn’t fast enough to pull the trigger a second time.
While Norma brushed past her, almost bowling into her, Lou sidearmed the knife, zinging it into the meat of the man’s thigh. It shocked him off-balance and he fell backwards, tumbling down the stairs. The wounded man’s head hit the wall at an odd angle. His neck cracked with an unnerving sound as the second soldier appeared at the bottom of the steps.
Norma had the drop on him. The moment he appeared at the bottom step, she fired. The first shot missed him. A quick second pull grazed his shoulder, giving Lou enough time to draw another knife and whip it at the man. It hit him in the clavicle and he dropped his weapon.
While he g
rasped at the knife, trying to pull it free, Norma took aim. One shot ended the man’s struggles, and the house was silent again.
Norma lowered her weapon, but kept it pointed at the men at the bottom of the stairs. Her finger was on the trigger, ready to fire again at the slightest movement.
Before she descended the stairs, she glanced behind her. Lou was in the front bedroom, crouched into a squat and holding David in her arms. His eyes were open.
Step by step Norma moved down the stairs. Her hands were sweating, greasy on the rifle, as she swept the weapon back and forth.
Adrenaline surged through her body. It was keeping her from collapsing, from sinking to the floor in a heap and wallowing in her pain.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, she poked the rifle’s barrel at each of the two men. Their bodies gave against the push but didn’t otherwise move. Using one hand to balance herself, she pressed her fingers against the plaster wall that ran along the left side of the steps, and stepped over the bodies.
In the hall near the door where she’d left him, her husband lay motionless. Norma swallowed hard, glanced through the front door, checking for threats that weren’t there, and laid down the rifle. She lowered herself to her knees and crawled the short distance to Rudy.
Awkwardly, she repositioned herself to sit with his head in her lap. She pulled him onto her, cradling him. Stroking his matted hair from his forehead, she suppressed the urge to cry. It hurt. In her chest, her throat, the backs of her eyes. The ache was building, pushing like too much water against a weakened dam.
A lifetime raced through her mind. Postcards one after the other, like flipping through an album of them.
She saw Rudy. A young man, strong and handsome. There was a spark between them. It was invisible, ethereal, and unmistakable. She saw fishing on piers, at docks, banks of lakes and ponds. Him threading the needle through the bait for her, but refusing to help her pull in her catch. She’d need to be self-reliant one day, and any wife of his should be confident enough to know she could do anything. Anything but hook a worm.
Courtship at the last drive-in theater, the heat between them and the fog on the windows of a car that barely ran. A small wedding and no honeymoon. But they had the beginnings of a good life together.
