Ash Reckoning

by Samson Weld

  Someone pulled into the drive, a hundred feet away. Ash and Deanna turned toward the dark green Land Rover. He frowned. Occasionally a rich real estate developer approached him to sell. He usually directed them to the owner, but he didn’t need the hassle right now.

  The passenger leaned out the window and opened fire.

  Ash leapt in front of Deanna, spinning around to face their attackers. His Uzi came up and he aimed at the driver. Three five-round bursts into the driver’s side of the windshield had the Land Rover careening off to his left and into a large oak.

  Ash’s first instinct was to attack. The best defense and all that shit. However, his first priority was to protect Deanna so he grabbed her hand and took off running. He started toward his pickup, but their attackers opened fire again. Both of them.

  He led Deanna around back and into the back door. He made her lie on the kitchen floor, with the fridge between her and the front of the house.

  “Stay down.”

  The Uzi’s firepower didn’t rise to the occasion. Ash tossed it on the couch. He opened a case and pulled out an AR-47. Then he found the drum magazine and moved up to the front window. The two men were behind their car, but looking like they were about to start toward the house.

  Ash took aim and unleashed hell.

  Deanna wailed in terror behind him. Ash’s heart went out to her, but he couldn’t relent. He emptied the drum magazine into their expensive vehicle and then fished out a pair of hand grenades. Being in the house, going through a shattered window, made the throw awkward. But he side-armed it and sent it bouncing toward them.

  The grenade exploded just short of the Land Rover.

  Ka-Boom!

  The two men took off running toward the barn. He scrambled for the Uzi, but they got inside before he could open fire. Jacked with adrenaline, he opened the front door and ran out to throw the other grenade at the barn.

  Ka-Boom!

  They opened fire, their rounds ripping through the walls as if they were nothing. Ash returned fire, but Deanna squealed when some of their shots began hitting the cabinets above her. He glanced at his pickup. The key was in his pocket and didn’t have to be inserted to start it. Perfect.

  “Deanna! We’re leaving,” he said, racing to the kitchen. He grabbed her hand, leading her out the back door as bullets continued to riddle the house. “Come on. Run!”

  Ka-Boom!

  All of the windows blew out. The roof over the dining room exploded as well.

  “Oh my God, they are shooting bombs at us,” Deanna screamed.

  More likely one of their shots hit his explosives and detonators. Didn’t matter. They were out of there. Hopefully, the explosion would distract them long enough to get Deanna into the pickup and get out of there.

  “I don’t want to die,” she cried.

  “I’ll protect you. Just stay low,” he said before peeking around the house. He didn’t see anyone and they’d stopped firing. “Now’s our chance.”

  The pickup waited just ten feet away. Their assailants couldn’t see the driver’s side from the barn so Ash stayed crouched over and moved up to the door, Deanna following his lead. He opened the door and ushered her inside.

  “Stay on the floorboard.”

  Deanna rolled into the fetal position on the passenger side, while he slipped behind the wheel and pressed the start button. The engine turned over and the other men opened up on them.

  Deanna screamed as bullets ripped into the truck. Ash threw it into gear and tore out of there as fast as he could. They continued to fire until well after he’d made the road and turned toward Royce City.

  “We made it, baby,” Ash said, relaxing at last.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Deanna? Are you okay?”

  Her eyes were open, but she had a blank expression. Then he saw all of the blood pooling under her. Ash went stone cold.

  Chapter 26

  Ash raced down I-30 from Royce City, finally reaching Rockwall.

  The Baylor Scott & White Emergency Hospital sat on the right and just off the highway. He drove up to the emergency room door where ambulances dropped off patients and started honking his horn. A nurse peeked after a moment.

  “Help,” he screamed. “She’s been shot.”

  The nurse started to point at the main door, but Ash got out and rushed around to the passenger side. He opened the door so she could see Deanna. This was persuasive enough to put her into action. The nurse shouted for help, which brought out two more nurses and a disheveled doctor.

  The doctor checked her pulse, shook his head, and ordered her onto a gurney. Ash groaned, knowing what that meant, but not wanting to believe it. Everyone was stunned by how much blood had puddled around her.

  “I’m Dr. Baker. What happened?”

  “We were leaving the house when a Land Rover turned into the drive and opened fire.”

  They both looked at all of the bullet holes in the F-150. The truck had been hit far more times than he’d realized. There were so many holes that he glanced down to see if he’d himself been hit. “I think they were using automatic weapons.”

  The doctor looked dumbstruck a moment, shook his head, and headed back into the ER. Ash followed him to the room where they were milling around Deanna. His hopes died when he noticed the grim faces as they worked so hard, so desperately.

  Eyes burning, mind numb, Ash sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall. He watched and listened, consumed with every emotion imaginable. Despair. Rage. Love. Hate. Terror.

  And a growing, burning need for vengeance.

  “I’m sorry, Deanna,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Another nurse pulled him away from that somber scene and badgered him for information. Ash tried to answer his questions, but his mind proved too chaotic. One second he could only think of Deanna, the other Bloody revenge.

  Minutes later, the police arrived. First the Rockwall city police and then the sheriff deputies once it was determined that the events had occurred outside of Rockwall.

  “Mr. Wexler,” a deputy said. “I just spoke with officers at your farm. They’re reporting the house is on fire and looks like it blew up. Do you know what happened?”

  Ash blinked at him a second, memories of those frantic moments returning. Deanna’s last moments of life.

  “Yeah. It blew up,” he said.

  The deputy looked frustrated and he replied a lot louder. “We understand that, sir. Why did it blow up? Was there a meth lab inside? Are you cooking meth in there?”

  “What are you talking about? Meth?” he asked. “The house blew up while the two guys were shooting into it.”

  “Do you have gas?”

  Their questions proved more confusing than Ash knew they should be. All he could think of, all he wanted to think about, was Deanna. Poor, innocent Deanna. She died because she loved him.

  “Mr. Wexler, I need you to focus,” the deputy said.

  “Oh yeah. Gas. Yes, I had a gas stove and water heater.”

  “Do you know the men who tried to kill you tonight?”

  “No. But they work for Joel Steinberg,” he said. “I think Mr. Steinberg had his wife murdered and now wants me dead before I figure it out.”

  Ash explained the situation as best he knew it. He gave them Detective Bellucci’s number, telling them about his previous encounters with the assassins. The deputies didn’t look convinced. Then Bellucci showed up.

  They went through the questions all over again. He gave them the password to his cloud account so they could download the files. Bellucci convinced the deputies that Ash was telling the truth. Finally, they allowed him to see Deanna and say his final goodbye.

  She looked so pale, yet seemed so serene lying there. It brought back memories of Milly’s death. Of seeing his sons the last time, too.

  I am a harbinger of death, he thought. I am death.

  “Come on,” Bellucci said. “I’ll take you home.”

  “I have my truck.”<
br />
  “No, you don’t,” she said. She smiled up at him sadly. “It’s evidence, my friend. It’ll be a while before you get it back.”

  Ash just stared at her. Everything had become a struggle. And then an orderly wheeled in a gurney which had MORGUE stenciled on it. Ash didn’t want to see that, what would happen next. It would make the situation definitive. He headed for the ER entrance and his pickup.

  It was dark. Ash tried to remember what time they’d arrived at the Hospital. Early, middle, late afternoon? He didn’t have a watch, or his phone, so had no way of checking the time.

  Cops and crime scene investigators were swarming over his pickup. Blood was everywhere, including pooled on the concrete under the passenger side. Ash stared at them a long moment before Bellucci gently pulled on his arm. He followed her numbly to her car.

  “I’ll drive you home,” she said, opening the passenger door for him.

  “I don’t have anywhere to go,” he said. “The farm’s gone. Deanna’s dead, so I can’t go back to her apartment. My apartment’s sealed off by the cops as a crime scene.”

  “Actually, they finished with your apartment this afternoon,” Bellucci said. “You’re free to move back in. If that’s what you want.”

  He shrugged. Who cared? What did it matter? Deanna was dead. All of her dreams gone. Her bright light snuffed out.

  They rode in silence all the way back to Dallas and into his complex. And then they just sat there in silence for a few minutes.

  “I’m really sorry about Deanna, Ash,” Bellucci said. “But…”

  “But?”

  “I know you. Do not take justice into your own hands again,” she said. “Allow the police to handle this situation. From all you’ve told us, I think Mr. Steinberg will pay for what he did.”

  “You think? You don’t know?” he asked. Ash smiled without humor. “Yeah, I know all about American justice. The rich can afford lawyers better than the prosecutors so they go free. And Joel Steinberg is very, very rich.”

  “Ash,” she warned.

  “What am I going to do? The cops back at the hospital took my guns. I don’t have anything to go after them with,” he said.

  He glanced at Desmond’s apartment. The lights were on.

  “I’m serious,” Bellucci said. She reached back and fetched a small cardboard box off the back seat. “Here. These are some things I picked up at your storage.”

  Ash opened the box to find assorted items and pictures of his late family. There was a set of house keys. Vacation photos. Just everyday things, like a spoon and fork. Milly had picked out that tableware.

  “You used to be a normal guy,” Bellucci said. “Remember how happy you were at that time? Before you dedicated your life to death and revenge? You can have that life again. Your late family, Deanna, they would want you to have that life. Let the police handle this, Ash.”

  “I thought I could. Deanna and I were going to move to Georgia and start over,” he said. “I wanted that life with her. But I’m like the Angel of Death. Everywhere I go, death follows. Everyone I love dies violently.”

  Bellucci took his hand in hers, squeezing gently. Her hand felt soft, with long delicate fingers. Not what he’d expect from a cop. A little disconcerting, because she was a tough cop.

  “You can’t give up. You owe it to them to keep trying,” she said.

  Owe? he thought. Yes, I have debts to pay. Steinberg and his goons murdered Deanna and they will definitely pay.

  Chapter 27

  Ash stopped before the closed door. The stucco wall around the door was riddled with bullet holes. The door itself only had a single hole, down close to the bottom. His key worked, and the door swung open. The cops had left every single working light on.

  He waved down to Bellucci, who was waiting for him to enter, and stepped inside. He paused to listen and heard her drive away. Only then did he turn his attention to the apartment.

  The fridge was dead and a truly foul odor surrounded it. Everything was trashed on that side of the apartment, damaged by gunfire. The rest of the place had been tossed by first the assassins, and then by the police.

  The first thing he did was grab a plastic garbage bag and empty the refrigerator’s rotting contents into it. In the end, he ended up with three bags of malodorous trash to take down to the dumpster.

  Instead of going straight back up to his place, Ash knocked on Desmond’s door.

  “Hey, Ash, how’s it going?”

  “Not good,” he said. “Do you mind opening up your pawn shop for an afterhours purchase? I need a pistol.” His friend’s eyes widened. So he added, “For, uh, self-defense. You know, in case those home invaders come back.”

  In fact, he was hoping they would. Even Bellucci couldn’t deny him the right to defend himself and his home.

  “I can do you one better,” Desmond said. “Come in.”

  Desmond ushered him into the living room with a Bud Lite in hand. A baseball game was on the TV. Texas Rangers playing the LA Dodgers. While he stared at the game, sipping his beer, Desmond went into the master bedroom. He returned with a box.

  “Here. Consider it a thank you gift for saving me from doing a very stupid thing.”

  Inside was a Berretta 92, 9mm. The pistol was all black. Four full magazines rested beside it, with a fifth already in the pistol. Ready to go.

  “You’re the best, Desmond. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Though, personally, I think you should forget about this place and move in with that pretty nurse.”

  Ash froze. He couldn’t breathe for a long moment.

  “Deanna’s dead. Killed this afternoon by the same men who invaded my apartment,” Ash said, almost too softly to hear.

  Desmond was stricken. Tears soon began to flow. Ash wondered why he was crying for someone he barely knew, and then Desmond hugged him.

  “I’m so sorry, man. Really sorry. She was such a good woman.”

  “Thank you. She really was something special,” he said. “She deserved so much more than this.” He pushed the Berretta under his waistband, and shoved the spare magazines into his back pocket. “Thanks for the pistol. I’ll sleep better tonight with it.”

  “I have a spare bedroom,” Desmond said. “You can stay as long as you want.”

  Ash smiled. “Thanks, but I want to be home if they come looking for me again.”

  Desmond just stared at him a moment, before nodding. “I have some military type firearms at the shop. AR-15s, mostly. If you’re interested.”

  “I am, but not tonight.”

  After draining his beer, Ash headed back to his apartment. He ran into his brother coming back down the stairs.

  “There you are,” Dale said, looking annoyed. “I thought we were going to have dinner together tonight? Where’s Deanna? Is she not coming?”

  Ash stared at him a second. He had no memory of agreeing to dinner with his brother.

  “We were? I guess I forgot,” he said. “It’s been a bad day.”

  He stepped past his brother and continued up the stairs. Dale followed so he left the door open for him. Ash went into the living room and plopped down on the couch. His brother followed, giving everything a wary look.

  “You want help cleaning up?” Dale asked. He didn’t look like he wanted to help. Then Dale’s eyes locked on the TV. “Hey, turn on the Dodger game.”

  Ash glowered at his younger brother. “Why? Do you have money on the game?”

  “Maybe. Is there a problem?”

  “Yes. Deanna was murdered in cold blood this afternoon and all you care about is some stupid game,” he said, eyes blazing as he came off the couch.

  “Whoa, dude, I didn’t know. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I lost my phone,” he replied. Ash tried to remember if it was in the pickup, or if he’d left it in the house. Either way, it was gone. “The whole day has been a nightmare. Sorry I didn’t call, but I’m not thinking straight right now.”

  “Of course. No proble
m. I understand,” Dale said. He sat in one of the chairs, running his fingers though his hair. “Man, I’m sick to hear about Deanna. I really liked her. She was so sweet.”

  Despite his words, Dale kept glancing at the TV. Ash shook his head. His brother never changed.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t take you to dinner. I have to contact Deanna’s family. There are arrangements to make,” Ash said. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Okay, contact her family and let them know,” Dale said. “But it’s their job to make final arrangements. Why don’t you come back to California with me? You can crash on my sofa until you find a job.”

  Ash did a double take. Had Dale really said that? Did he blow Deanna off that casually? But then, Dale wasn’t a people person, despite being a dentist. Which explained why he didn’t have a particularly successful practice. Well, that and the gambling addiction.

  “No. I’ll never go back to California,” Ash said. “You should go. I have a situation to take care of before I can think about moving anywhere.”

  Dale’s face turned red. What was his problem? Ash used to believe Dale had Little Brother Syndrome.

  “You make me so mad,” Dale snarled. “It’s always about you and what you want. You never gave a damn about me. It was no picnic growing up with your bullying.”

  Bullying? Why was he bringing that up? Maybe he did bully his brother growing up, but no worse than in any other family.

  “Always about me?” Ash asked. “Seems you are making this all about you. Deanna is dead and your only concerns are dinner and a baseball game?”

  Dale jumped to his feet, fists clenched.

  “You’re such a judgmental prick, Ash.”

  Ash stood up and the brothers glared at each other.

  “You went to the race track instead of Milly’s funeral,” Ash said, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know where you were for the twins’ funeral.”

  Dale averted his eyes, then turned away to pace across the room. He returned even angrier.

  “I didn’t feel welcome.”