With the tedious door endeavor behind him Jack raced down the stairs hoping that the person down there wasn’t hostile but kept his gun at the ready just in case. At the end of the stairs was a wall to the left and to the right an opening. Jack couldn’t see anything. He could smell the wet, heavy, mildewed, smell of the basement. He felt along the wall. The smell increased, strengthening the further he traveled. He walked away from the wall into the darkness. He took a few steps and what felt like a string brushed by his face. He felt of it with his hand and it was the light switch. He took a breath and pulled the string. The light illuminated the dark damp basement. A blonde haired woman with a shovel was suddenly in Jack’s face swinging the weapon wildly. Jack, needless to say, was startled and with reflexes reacting he jumped back. She swung again. He ducked low and the side of the shovel scraped his back tearing his shirt and leaving at small scrape. Jack rush to get out of shovel range. The woman was young and had energy. Her bright blue eyes were bold with intensity. Jack kept his rational way of thinking. He lowered his gun but kept it ready. The gun must have not bothered her because she swung again and again as if she wasn’t intimidated by the sight of the firearm. She raised the shovel high above her head. Jack saw the intent in her eyes. He took that opportunity to make his move. “Do you know Pete?”
The woman was about to bring the shovel down on Jack’s head and kill the person she thought threatened her but she stopped once what Jack said had registered in her head. She kept the intense look on her face and the shovel held. “Did you say Pete?”
“Yes. Pete. He owns the gas station.” Jack moved to one knee once he seen the woman lower the shovel. He gave a deep, gratifying sigh of relief.
“How do you know Pete?” The woman backed away as she watched Jack stand.
Jack dusted his pants off and felt his back. "I’ve been friends with Pete for a long time. The past few years I have been to his gas station at least once a day. My wife has even made Thanksgiving dinner every year because he was one of the only people open that day of the year. He asked me to keep whoever presided at this residence safe.” Jack handed the woman his note.
The woman read the note carefully and then tucked it away in the pocket of her button up shirt. She rolled her sleeves half up her arm from where they had slid down due to her inexorable shovel swinging. “If what you are saying is true because anyone can write a note, then Grandma will know something about you.”
“Well we do need to make it quick. There are people coming this way and should be here very soon.” Jack used the depth of his voice to show how serious he was on the matter.
The woman seemed to understand but Jack could tell by her puzzled face that she was considering all options. Jack knew that he had to convince Pete's apparent family that he was not with those warmongering assailants. Jack followed the blonde around a small corner. Huddled in a corner was an elderly lady in a flower print dress around Pete’s age (whom Jack assumed was Grandma) and a younger man with a shaved head (he could have been a large teenager) who wore a camouflaged N.R.A. t-shirt was standing back covered by the shadows.
“Grandma this man claims he knows Grandpa. He said he is here to save us,” The woman used her fingers as air quotes when she said save, leaving sarcasm to linger in the air. Already Jack's first impression was being slaughtered. She then handed the note to Grandma. “He said he had brought him Thanksgiving dinner when Grandpa worked late through the holidays and that there are people headed this way.”
She said everything Jack could have possibly thought to say but it just didn't feel urgent or serious enough. He was rushed. The last thing he wanted was for those mongrels to start plundering this house with defenseless people in it. He knew that the truck could be only houses away. The elderly lady had a contorted look about her face. That puzzled look turned to one of deep thought once she read the note. The look on Grandma’s face was almost reminiscent. Jack was expecting the people in that truck (people he was sure to have connections with the mob he narrowly escaped from) to come rushing through the house. Just as the thought passed his mind he heard vehicle doors slam shut. His heart jumped with worry. He had to act fast. These people were stubborn but Jack came all this way, he killed many people that will have to rest on his conscious forever, he owed a debt to Pete, and he put his life on the line possibly never being able to see his wife and son again so there was no way he was going to leave this house without the people he worked so hard to reach. He was ready to yank these people away and set off for his house when the elderly woman spoke.
“You’re Michael! I remember you looking different but I saw you at the filling station on Christmas Eve saying that someone’s wife made him dinner. Had to throw away the turkey every year because it was always so dry (Jack agreed).” She wanted to keep rambling on without a care in the world but Jack interrupted.
“Yes! Yes. I mean no I’m not Michael,” Jack had joy oozing out of his face. He was so relieved the woman had just confirmed him as right that he wasn’t even speaking clearly. “My wife is the one who made the dinner every year for him. My name is Jack. I’m honestly only here to help you but we need to get moving because any moment now those very bad men are going to rush this house.” Jack was sincere in his words. The blonde seemed as though she was still skeptical while the young man hadn’t said a word. The grandmother seemed to be the defacto leader and she had sorta recognized him so that meant that Jack no longer had to waste time trying to convince them.
“We have dealt with several intruders already. We can handle a couple more.” The blonde said with a conceited confidence. The young man, as if on cue, stood up and cracked his knuckles. He was quite a bit larger than what he appeared immersed in the darkness basement's corner. He didn’t have much muscle but what he did have was weight to throw around.
At that moment they heard a number of footsteps enter the first part of the house. From Jack hearing the thud he counted five maybe six people come into the house. All four basement dwellers stared up at the ground floor and watched as the floorboards creaked all over the house leaving dust to float free in the air.
Jack quickly turned to the trio. “There are a lot of people in the house. There is also a large number of people ransacking houses one by one and they are coming this way so we need to take action while there are just a few,” He saw the hesitation in their faces. “You need to trust me.”
They one by one nodded their heads yes starting with the Grandma, then the blonde followed suit, and the young man had no choice but to nod along with them.
“This is what we are going to do,” Jack bent down and unzipped the duffle bag. “Who is familiar with firearms?”
The blonde said with familiar confidence. "I’ve used a pistol plenty of times at the shooting range.”
The grandma pulled a shotgun from under the chair she sat on and smiled. Jack hadn’t seen that gun beforehand he must have overlooked it, which was a good sign that he was getting tired. The large boy remained silent. It seemed ironic that he wore an N.R.A shirt but didn’t know how to use a gun.
“Ok, listen we don’t have much time before one of them if not all of them will come down here. He needed to get into position. Young man what is your name?”
“Scott.” He said blankly.
“Alright Scott this is what we are going to do. You have taken a couple of these types of guys out yourself,” Scott nodded. “OK, you and I are going to move by the door and we are going to take a couple of guys down. What is your name?” He pointed to the blonde woman.
“My name is Rachel.” She again spoke with an unbridled pride.
“Alright Rachel. Do you think you can fit through the small window up there?” Jack pointed to the small basement window where he had first seen Rachel through.
She looked up at the window and nodded. “I’m pretty sure that I can fit.”
“Good. Here take this pistol, it is loaded. When I give you the signal I want you to crawl through the window, go to the back door, and
anyone you see out there you shoot them and anyone coming out the back door.”
The woman understood. “I can do that," With her confidence intact she grabbed the gun and walked toward the window behind her Grandma. "I had to kill once today, I just never would have thought..." Rachel's words muffled as she walked toward the window shaking her head, still speaking with no one able to hear.
“Ma’am, I need you to sit right there and keep the shotgun ready. If anyone gets past Scott or I then you know what to do.”
“I just feel bad for anyone who gets past you,” She said in a soft gentle voice. “Scott now don’t you get brave. Don’t you get hurt; let anyone of them past you before they get you too bad.” Jack liked this woman. She seemed tough. Like Pete.
“I will.” Scott answered almost in a whisper.
Jack moved to the foot of the stairs and Scott followed him. Jack heard no one in the kitchen. The door at the top of the stairs was slightly ajar. There was no movement or shadows. So the criminals hadn’t seen the basement door splintered open. Jack sat the duffle bag on the floor. He kept his eyes on the door while remaining in the shadows motioned Scott to move underneath the stairs. It took Scott a moment to interpret Jack's intentions but after vigorously pointing he finally crouched down and hid underneath the stairs.
“If more than one comes down I want you to ambush them.” Jack said under his breath.
Scott whispered something back but it was too faint to hear. Jack took it as acknowledgement. There was a sound in the kitchen. Jack concentrated his view. The footsteps sounded all over the kitchen floor. There had to be at least four people. Suddenly the door moved open slightly and there was a figure behind but Jack could only make out the shadow underneath. Jack tensed as he realized the figure was inspecting the door. In an instant the door was yanked open almost completely off its frame but left hanging by its last hinge. One man motioned and then there were footsteps followed by three men rushing down the staircase.
Rachel was looking at Jack for the signal. He turned to see her at the other end of the hallway waiting. He mouthed the word GO FAST and rushed her silently with a waving hand. She took off and scrambled out of the window just as the three men hit the ground.
The first intruder was skinny. Jack quickly grabbed his head and smashed it into the stair banister. He had the element of surprise so the target was easy to take down but he wasn’t out because the tough skinny man crawled to the wall clutching his bleeding face. It also blew his cover. The second man grabbed Jack's arm. He was quite a bit larger than his first victim. Jack began trading blows with the big man and left the third man to run around the fight and into the ambush. Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw that the third man wore a green prison jumpsuit. On top of that Scott didn’t follow through with the ambush. The prisoner didn’t see him and kept running.
The first man was now up and searching for his attacker. Jack was busy wrestling the resilient attacker when he thought he heard someone run out the back door. A shot rang out and broke Jack’s train of thought. Jack thought Rachel may have been lucky. Scott startled Jack (causing him to take a knee to the shoulder) by appearing from the shadows and tackling the skinny foe. Jack thought the boy was scared and would stay hidden. Scott commenced to pummel the skinny man mercilessly. Jack wondered why Scott waited for a weaker foe. Jack was under the impression that he wasn’t afraid of a fight. Then again it wasn't Scott who confronted him with a shovel earlier. Using his trailing thoughts as morphine for the blows that landed. Jack decided to end the conflict by ducking a punch, then he rose, and then hit the large man square in the throat as hard as he could. There was a gurgling sound followed by a momentary silence as he crumbled to the ground.
A loud shot was fired that could have only sounded like one gun; a shotgun. Jack whipped around just in time to see the spray of tiny bullets hit the prisoner. The force of the blast lifted him off his feet about a foot before crashing to the ground. His chest was full of small holes. Jack watched as Grandma walked over to the man as her aged hadn’t affected her legs. She pointed the gun at his chest to double check. Jack thought he saw a smile crack on her face.
Scott was still wailing on the dead man. “Scott. Stop,” Jack grabbed a fist as it drew back. “You should have spent that energy on someone stronger.” Jack released his hand. Scott stood up and they hurried to Grandma. Jack wondered if they boy possibly had a mental disabilities because of the lack of apparent understanding but that was a conversation for later.
Trying to assess the aftermath Jack decided to look and see if anyone of these dead assholes had any guns. He looked at the green jumpsuit body and seen that there was a piece of paper in the breast pocket of his jumpsuit. The border on the paper bore the logo of the prison so he grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket. He caught a glimpse of ink writing on the paper. It may help him understand why these convicts are everywhere. Maybe it was some kind of instruction to keep them organized.
Jack looked at Grandma with kudos in his eyes. “Think there is a couple more people in the house. I’m going to take them out and get us a ride out of here. First I have to get Rachel down here. I’ll be back.” Jack didn’t look to see if she agreed. He had no time. The loud gunshot would have alerted the perpetrators in the other parts of the house. He raced up the stairs and into the kitchen.
Rachel appeared in the door frame. She looked as if she had moved the body out of the doorway. There was a smear of blood on the floor and on her hands. "Please tell me the gunshot I heard came from my gun.” Jack asked looking her over for a bullet wound.
"Yes it was and i'm fine. I heard the shotgun, what happened?" She strained to see into the basement.
“That was grandma. Everyone is ok. What I need you to do is get everyone out of the basement with any bags you’ve already got packed and into the kitchen. Grab my duffle bag by the stairs and then wait for me once you get back up here.”
“Okay.” The two set off in different directions.
Jack had a plan. He set off for the open front door. He was expecting any of the marauders to pop out from anywhere and sure enough he passed the living room doorway and two shots grazed past his head. He took cover on the other side of the wall. He drew his pistol from his back. He stole a quick peek around the wall and zeroed in on where the man was. The shooter seen Jack’s peeking and fired a shot really close to Jack’s head. Jack took that opportunity to move around the wall and he fired his weapon. It took three shots because the man was only partly hidden by a book shelf. The first went into the bookshelf, the second hit the man’s leg, and after leaning from his injured leg he exposed his head and Jack got the kill shot.
Jack turned only to literally run into another looter. He reached for Jack but quickly Jack planted a head butt on his nose and the attacker backed up in pain. He drew a tiny handgun but before he could get a shot off Jack hit the man in the gut very hard. He crumbled to the floor but wasn’t dead.
Jack raced out the front door only to see six more people only a house away and they were accompanied by the two motorcyclists. Jack set his sights on the huge black truck with a diesel engine in the middle of the road. The truck was already running and it was in front of the house. He set off at full sprint. He was halfway across the yard when the other looting convicts noticed. He opened the door of the truck just as the motorcycles revved up. The others on foot were already on their way. They probably didn’t think anything of the gunshots. The convicts chasing Jack probably thought their own people were killing the inhabitants. Jack took off in the truck yards before anyone reached him.
He set off across the front yard. He reached his pistol out the window and fired a single shot. It was a lucky shot. It hit a motorcyclist in the head. He fell off and the bike kept going. The other biker hit his peer and tumbled over his handlebars. Jack could easily outrun the others who were on foot.
He slammed the gas and picked up speed. He had room as he moved to line the large truck up with the small house. His speed increase
d. Jack closed his eyes and he smashed into Pete’s house. The powerful truck plowed through the living room and through the kitchen wall. When he looked out the passenger side window he saw his three new companions. Rachel held her backpack and the duffle bag which must have been heavy for her because her shoulder slumped a large amount. Scott had a large military style pack on his back and Grandma carried a suitcase. The three put their belongings in the bed of the truck and the three piled into the extended cab. Grandma climbed right up with no problem. She may have been in better shape physically than she appeared. Jack gunned the gas just was the men on foot opened fire on the truck. Plowing through the back of the kitchen sending splintered wood flying and running over Rachel's former victim who had laid lifeless in the doorway, Jack skidded into the mud stricken back yard. Jack turned into the alley. Grandma and Rachel looked at what was left of their house and life. A huge shredded hole was splintered through the middle house enabling the attackers to pour in and keep shooting. A sight the family never thought they would see when they awoke that morning.
Chapter Fifteen
No Time To Mourn Page 19
