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The men from Wayne’s group missed the fight, delayed by their encounter with Zach’s group, but they’d been close enough to hear the gunshots. Conor agreed that the men Wayne had encountered were likely part of this enemy force. Intercepting them before they joined the fight had probably saved lives.
Better rested than Conor’s group, they offered to assist with watching the prisoners overnight. Those who had been captured were stuck in a windowless brick hut the phone company used to house switchgear. Some within the community wanted to kill all of the prisoners in a public execution. Conor discouraged it.
“We’ve killed enough of them to make it clear to everyone that we tolerate no foolishness,” he said. “If we release these men with a warning never to come back, I think they’ll spread the word far and wide that we are not to be trifled with. The story of what we’ve done will travel farther with living men than with dead men.”
In the end, the people agreed, and the next day a party escorted the unarmed men back to the highway. They turned them loose with no horses, no weapons, and no food. The only thing they received was the gift of their lives and a warning to never return.
As for the dead of Bryan’s army, there were too many to waste the effort of individual graves. Ragus mentioned the subterranean foundation of a house that had burned to the ground. The open foundation hole was around four feet deep and filled with the ashes and debris of the fire. The bodies were taken there on horses and stacked respectfully on the earthen floor of the basement. Everyone able to shovel took a turn heaving dirt into the foundation hole. While it took three hours, it was faster than individual graves. No words were spoken over them since no one in the community, despite their deeply-held religious beliefs, felt like blessing the men who’d come to kill or enslave them.
Before everyone went their separate ways and returned home, Conor took advantage of the gathering to remind people that incidents like this were why they needed to have security for their community. He saw on their faces that they understood.
“There’s a role for all of you, despite any physical limitations. It’s your skill level and your knowledge we need to grow. If I offer to train you folks, will you come?” he asked.
It was mostly nods around the assembled faces.
“Then expect I’ll come calling,” Conor said. “I’ll give it a week or two so you can rest up.”
“You can start with us,” Wayne offered. “We’re pretty isolated over there. My group and the Jacks family are about all you have in that back valley.”
“Except for a pissed off preacher,” Barb piped up.
Conor shot her a look, then went back to Wayne. “Sounds good, my friend. I’ll swing by in a few days to get things started.”
There were tired waves as the group broke up. People pulled off, heading back up the ridge and to their homes. From the way they talked among themselves, Conor could see that they were more than neighbors now. They had indeed transformed themselves into a loose militia.
Things still seemed strained between Ragus, Barb, and Shannon. It was evident even to Doc Marty and Conor, who discussed it on their first full day back at the compound. They were sitting on the porch drinking coffee Doc Marty had brought in his shipping container. Ricardo had included twenty pounds for Conor. It wasn’t an indefinite supply but would fuel many early mornings and late nights.
“I’m sorry if our presence here is causing conflict,” Doc Marty said. “I thought it might be a little intrusive and I was okay with that, but I don’t want to cause personal rifts.”
“You seemed to have fewer concerns about that in Helsinki,” Conor noted.
“I know that. I owe you for that, for putting us up, and for saving my daughter.”
“You don’t owe me for saving her but you do owe me for putting up with you and for Helsinki.”
“How can I make that up to you? Just tell me and I’ll do it. I’m tired of living with this over my head. Tired of sleeping behind a locked door in a booby trapped room because I’m afraid I’ll wake up to your grinning face hovering above me.”
“You sleep with booby traps?” Conor asked. “Good to know.”
Doc Marty sighed and waved his arms in frustration. “I’m serious. I want this done and out of the way. Shit is too serious right now to constantly be worrying about that.”
“It didn’t stop you from coming here, did it?”
“I did that for Shannon. I didn’t think I had a choice.”
Conor considered for a moment. “The offer is this and it’s non-negotiable. There’s one offer and one only. You stay here until this mess is over. You stay as our doctor. I don’t care if Ricardo finds better accommodations or you get a better offer. You stay. Deal?”
Doc Marty screwed up his face in consideration, then stuck out his hand to shake on it. “Deal.”
Conor took his hand and the men faced off to shake on it. As they did, Conor clamped onto Doc’s hand and pulled him in for a head-butt. Doc Marty went staggering backwards, falling on his ass. Addled, he rubbed his forehead.
“Damnit, Conor!”
“I pulled the blow,” Conor said. “Didn’t want a doctor with a concussion.”
“I thought we had a deal.”
“We do. That was part of it.”
“You could have mentioned that part,” Doc Marty mumbled, pushing up to a seated position. “I might have thought about it a little longer.”
Just then, Shannon, Barb, and Ragus came piling out the door. Shannon ran to her dad’s side. Ragus and Barb stared in confusion, trying to figure out what happened.
“It’s fine,” Conor assured them. “We made a deal. Doc Marty is going to stay on as our personal physician until this mess is over.”
“Did you have to hit him?” Shannon said, a furious scowl on her face.
“He said he wanted to clear the air over the matter in Helsinki,” Conor said. “This seemed the best way to do that. Consider it part of the handshake.”
“I’m tired of hearing about Helsinki!” Shannon yelled at both men. “Just what the hell happened over there that neither of you can move past?”
Conor gestured at Doc Marty. “You tell them.”
Doc Marty hesitated.
“Dad!” Shannon said. “Tell me or I’m not speaking to you for a long time. I’ve had it with this.”
When Doc Marty wasn’t forthcoming, Conor spilled it. “He stole me bloody teeth.”
Everyone looked at Conor in shock, then at Doc Marty with a tinge of disgust.
“What?” Shannon asked.
“He. Stole. Me. Bloody. Teeth,” Conor repeated.
“How do you steal someone’s teeth while they’re still alive?” Barb asked.
“We were on an operation,” Doc Marty said. “Planting false forensic evidence. We’d kidnapped this Russian. If his organization knew he was kidnapped, they would have changed all their protocols in response. We thought it was better that they think he was dead. Then they wouldn’t feel a need to change anything.”
Ragus and Shannon helped Doc Marty up, putting him in a porch chair. He swiped his hair from his face and touched his tender forehead before continuing.
“I’d been provided with a set of his dental records and a bag of loose teeth that matched them. Conor and I stole a body from the morgue that was an approximate match for our man. I was supposed to pull all the corpse’s teeth and rebuild them to match the guy we kidnapped. Turned out I was a few teeth short.”
“We were under a time crunch,” Conor interjected. “We had to get the work done and burn the body. We figured police would find it, match the teeth, and everyone would think the guy was dead. We had some ether we’d used to knock out the guy working at the morgue. The next thing I know, the Doc slips a rag over my mouth. I’m trying to fight him off but I pass right out. I wake up in the back of a van a few hours later and half my fecking mouth is gone.”
“I only took six teeth,” Doc Marty grumbled. “I had to or the opera
tion was a failure. We were in too deep to let that happen. Your teeth saved the day and the company paid to fix them.”
“That’s not the point,” Conor said. “The point is that we were partners and you don’t steal your partner’s teeth.”
“That sounds like a reasonable rule,” Barb said.
“No shit,” Conor agreed. “But we’re over it now. It’s out in the open, I’ve given you a cracking good headache, and we can move past it.”
“Are you sure?” Shannon said. “I don’t want to hear it dredged up again.”
“If he doesn’t mention it, I won’t,” Conor promised.
“Dad?” Shannon prompted.
“I won’t either,” Doc Marty said.
“Should we shake on it?” Conor said, an evil grin on his face.
Doc Marty looked at him like he was nuts, then got to his feet. “I need a pain pill. My head is killing me.” He wandered off toward his quarters, Shannon helping him along.
“And you won’t need those booby traps anymore!” Conor yelled after him. “I won’t be paying you a visit.”
“That’ll be the day,” Doc Marty grumbled.
Conor laughed and slung an arm around Barb. He noticed Ragus to his other side and drew him in too. “Weird family, aren’t we?”
He looked to each side, noticing they were both looking at him like they just couldn’t understand him.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
About the Author
Franklin Horton lives and writes in the mountains of Southwestern Virginia. He is the author of the bestselling post-apocalyptic series The Borrowed World and Locker Nine, as well as the thriller Random Acts. You can follow him on his website at franklinhorton.com and sign up for his newsletter with updates, book recommendations, and discounts.
Also by Franklin Horton
The Borrowed World Series
The Borrowed World
Ashes of the Unspeakable
Legion of Despair
No Time For Mourning
Valley of Vengeance
Switched On
The Locker Nine Series
Locker Nine
Grace Under Fire
The Mad Mick Series
The Mad Mick
Stand-Alone Novels
Random Acts
Masters of Mayhem Page 30
