The fear of time running out started to set in. It felt like everything around him was slowing down. Before he took cover he had seen two more vehicles pull up with people stepping out. He had heard another car door since. He hadn’t taken down. He almost felt the bullets pounding on the wall now. They were steady thumps against the outside above his shoulder. He wondered how long the wall would hold before he would have to back up and just wait for all of them to storm the house. There wasn’t a window along the wall to take cover behind. He couldn’t run in front of the doorway. He wasn’t suicidal and he didn’t just want to leave. That Michael guy was still on the top floor. He couldn’t hear any commotion from above over the constant gunshots from outside. He didn’t want to just leave. He couldn’t. That isn’t the way he would have wanted his own family to go out. He needed to get a few shots off or he was done in.
Just as the British man began to dash across the room, past the damned doorway, and up the stairs (that is if he made it that far) he had heard the screeching of a new vehicle. The hard sound of the engine gave away the unknown vehicle type. It was a heavy duty truck. It crashed into the parked cars and the shooting stopped and so did the British man. He stopped in mid sprint and crept up to the open, bullet riddled doorway. There was gunfire and then return fire. This was curious and he wanted to know who it was that caused such an uproar upon arrival.
Upstairs Michael leaned against the wall to help himself travel further. Jordan’s room was at the far end of the hallway he knew that is where they would be hiding. He pressed on the wall depending on it as if it were his lifeline to his daughter. Blood oozed for every wound and the limp had returned. There was a searing pain with every step but that didn't matter. His daughter was the only thing on his mind. Jack was nowhere to be found and he was all that stood between these former prisoners and his daughter. He was so focused on the task at hand and trying not to lose consciousness that he hadn’t noticed the convict hiding in the hallway closet.
Michael walked past just as the sliding paneled door slid open violently. The guy came out and shoved Michael away from the doorway. Given the shape Michael was in he almost pushed to the grown by the weight of the attacker but he caught himself and regained what little footing he could muster. The man came at Michael again, shoving him with all his might. Michael swung and hit the man in the face as Michael himself fell back and hit his head on the opposite wall. A sudden pain shot down Michael’s spine and he erupted in a yell of agony. The attacker staggered on towards Jordan’s room while flipping Michael the bird. The convic obviously didn't think the downed soldier was a threat. Michael’s head was swimming. The last blow to his head was just enough to knock him out of reality. He watched as the man continued. It was hard to make out the convict within the blur of semi consciousness but after a while Michael could tell he was searching each room. The fuzzy world around him slowly came back into focus. He felt as if were shell shocked. Michael wished he had never given his gun away. Finally he got to Jordan’s room. He opened the door and immediately he was attacked.
It was violent and swift. Jake leapt from the ground to the man’s face and began to maul him. The dog ripped at the face and clawed the body. Jake wrestled with the man and took his blows without even a whimper. The dog was laying his life on the line and no matter how hard the convict would hit the animal Jake just clamped his jaws tighter. The man soon gave in to the attacking dog and fell to the ground being mangled. The dog sank his teeth into his foe. Blood was flowing and the man's stomach was ripped open wide. Pieces of flesh lay filleted open and half the man's face was unrecognizable, full of ruby colored chewed skin. The yelling and pleading soon stopped as the would-be assaulter’s life had ceased. A mound of red carnage was left in the floor. Jake was not without his own wounds. The dog limped away to Marilyn who rubbed and petted the faithful companion while also inspecting his own wounds. She grabbed his limping left leg to see if it was broken or just sprained. The dog shuttered once she had grabbed ahold of his leg but Jake was far too proud to whimper. Marilyn had noticed Michael lying in a heap on the floor. She crossed the long hallway leaving Jake sitting by the door. She dropped to her knees and gasped at the sight of her friend, her husband's best friend. With her hand covering her mouth she seeped further into awe at the living mutilated bodies lying unconscious before her. Michael looked almost as bad as the man with the ripped stomach. Marilyn had could see the sacrifice Michael had just made. The sacrifices were stained in bruises and blood all over his body.
She wasn't sure if she should move his body or leave it. Marilyn quickly hopped up and went to the nearby bathroom a few feet down from where Michael lay insensible. She returned with a bundle of towels and she quickly went to work. She tore strips from one towel and began tying it around his shoulder to mend a second bullet wound just above his already patched gunshot injury. She shook her head, she couldn’t figure out why he would lay his life on the line, or keep fighting even though the yard is crawling with people intent on killing him. She dried the blood that covered his body and then placed a third towel behind his head. She hurried with this because she wasn’t sure when the bad people were going to come up the stairs. These towels were used to dry her child after a bath and now she used them to mend her husband’s fallen friend.
She thought Michael was the only one defending them but more gunshots rang out every few seconds. Was it possible that Jack had made it back? Just the thought sent a wave of hope flooding her body. She had to let the kids know about Michael. She hurried back to Jordan’s bedroom. Stepping over the mauled body she pushed the slightly open door further and entered. The dog sat at attention to the children.
They all crammed in the window to see outside. “Get away from that window they could see us up here.” She walked towards them. Jordan turned. His face bright and happy, “It’s dad.” Jack drove his truck straight through the advancing people. Most jumped out of the way however one man’s leg was ran over. The man screamed out in pain but not one of his comrades came to his aide.
Jack drove the truck straight for the front door. Many people seemed to scatter a small distance and some shooting subsided. Bodies littered the ground. Jack figured it was Michael who had done away with these people. He had seen someone shooting through the door. Jack hoped it was Michael and he wasn’t dead yet. Jack had been gone longer than he anticipated. Maybe Michael was right, maybe he shouldn't have left in the first place.
The truck occupying Jack and his newly liberated friends came careening up the front yard and stopped just short of the front door. The house looked nothing like how jack had left it. The place was a war zone with walls covered in bullets, windows were shattered, and the amount of bullets and shells that riddled the ground rivaled only that of a bullet casing factory.
“Rachel you need to get out of the truck with me and shoot at anyone while you make your way inside. Granny, climb up here and drive this truck around back and then you two wait for the rest of us.” Jack looked at everyone and shouldered his duffle bag.
“Ready? Let’s go.” Jack and Rachel hopped out of the truck and there were already threats in their face. Many convicts who dove out of the way we're now up and shooting again. Jack shot a bullet at many foes. Almost all hit them square in the head and each shot was enough to advance him a few steps further. Rachel was not a great shot but a bullet to the gut was enough to cripple anyone. She would point, then shoot, and move on. Her technique was slow and methodical but it kept the fast learning beginner alive. She herself was surprised at how calm her demeanor was amidst all this chaos. Maybe it was because she had to be calm in order to just stay alive.
Jack surveyed the area as the truck backed up haphazardly making their opposition run in different directions obscuring their attack. Jack and Rachel took that opportunity to run into the house, into safety. Inside back against the bullet riddled wall was not Michael. The man was taller and stood on long legs. The man seemed distraught and panicked. He clutched his pistol tightly w
hile he stared at the new people in the house.
“Where is Michael?” Jack needed to know. Surely he wasn’t dead. “Where are Marilyn and the kids?” He was the only person in the room and the only one shooting toward the convicts so this man whoever he was knew where his friends and family were at.
“He handed me a gun once he heard a scream from upstairs. I told him to go,” The defensive man studied the seriousness of Jack’s face. He didn’t know whether he should shoot this new strange man or ask him for assistance. He judged whether Jack would believe him or not. Not a soul would blame him otherwise. “I held them off for as long as I could.”
“Let’s just hope that they’re up there,” With a new mission being sat in front of him Jack snapped into action. He was in a race. Get everyone out unharmed while locusts swarmed the house.
“I’m going up there up there. Rachel stay down here and hold off the convicts while I get everyone else down with us.” Rachael’s gun grew silent and she didn’t utter a word. Halfway up the stairs Jack stopped. He stopped because he hadn’t heard Rachael answer him.
“Rachel?” The woman was ever silent with her mouth covered she backed toward the staircase her gun trembling. Jack watched as great fears befell the once infallible and powerful young woman. She couldn't speak. He mouth opened but no words came out. She brushed back her soot dusted blonde hair (Jack was sure it had been a shimmering wall of gold just this evening) so she could see clearly. Jack looked to the window she was looking out of. The wall itself was full of huge gaping holes. What he had seen was the usual convicts and associated citizens. Some still firing some not. What was unusual about the carnage now was that most of these convicts were carrying molotov cocktails. Each person set theirs on fire and once each convict had it fully burning they set off at a run. Some lit theirs late and ran further behind. The three looked on in awe as the flickering death bells floated nearer. Rachel was too stunned to move, she froze. Jack unzipped the duffle bag which hadn’t left his shoulder. He pulled out a pump action and pushed it into the English man’s hands. The accented associate stared.
“Well do you know how to use it?” Jack asked almost annoyed. Quickly he fished inside his bag.
“Yes. Yes I know how.” He quickly took the gun. He knew that this didn’t mean he had gained trust. He knew he was just a common caused ally.
“And Rachel. You need to shoot!” Jack yelled at the top of his lungs, desperately trying to get his point across. Rachel snapped to reality. She shook her head and blinked. She took a step up to the window and fired at one of the approaching lights but missed. She fired twice and missed again. Others still with guns in their hands were firing straight at her. She ducked to one knee with bullets whizzing by. She took aim and finally shot a convict. He fell and his ready-made bomb dropped and exploded flames all over. His body engulfed and the yard around him was showered with tiny fires. The other delinquents was forced to zigzag around the fire. She took too long to take out one and the rest drew closer. Rachel ran and closed the front door. Any extra barricade would help protect them from the burning bottles.
Jack pulled extra rounds out of his bag hand tossed them to the shotgun bearing man at the foot of the steps. Jack was going to ask him to join Rachel in shooting the approaching arsonists but he was already well on his way. Jack acknowledged his brave smart act and ran up the stairs after his family and friend. His pistol drawn and his duffle bag shouldered he advanced. The unnamed man stepped up next to Rachel who seemed to be concentrating hard on every shot. He pumped his shotgun, leaned on the window seal, aimed, and waited.
“What are you doing? Why don’t you shoot?” Rachel screamed. The fear evident in her voice. The people were getting closer and some were ready to throw.
“I’m waiting. They have to be in range.” The man said quickly. The group approached. Rachael took out another but they were not scared. They kept coming. They had number on their side. They were close now. Like olympians carrying the flaming torch they approached at a slow running. Each arsonist eyeballed and zeroed in on a place to rain their fiery hatred upon.
Many had stopped and leaned back ready to throw and that is when the Englishman let loose. He shot and the bullets sprayed and then he pumped and shot again. Six incendiaries were blown back. Their bodies riddled with deadly pellets and the force of the shotgun landed the men a couple feet back, lying lifeless on the front lawn.
“Botched they all were!” The Englishman cried with delight after riding the yard of many attackers. Still some remained and they unleashed their reign. Bottles of gasoline exploded against the exterior of the house spreading fire across its surface. One bottle happened to make it inside, flying through a smashed window. It hit a painting on the opposite wall and rained small patches of fire. The couch was soon engulfed. Both kept shooting. A fear was still building inside Rachel’s stomach. It almost seemed suicidal to sit here and shoot people she didn’t know. Jack had pretty much saved her and her family’s lives. She did owe him at least her best effort. The accented man noticed that the girl’s aim began to improve. She hit twice the amount of targets. Were they the same rioter that attacked her house just earlier? The convicts were thinning out now. A quick glance shown more than twenty dead. It still was no victory by far. The fire was fueled by the wood of the house. It was raging on the outside just as bad. He was able to get off another rounding killing one and injuring another. It was soon hard to see past the flames. The smoke from the burning furniture was filling the room. Another Molotov cocktail was thrown through the hall window and the way to the back door was scattered with tiny balls of fire which were ever growing. He motioned for her to back up. They took a few steps back and they could again see more convicts and again they aimed and fired.
The heat from behind was intensifying. Rachael looked behind them and she saw a raging fire. Panic set in. Sweat was dripped from every pore. The intense heat made it hard think straight. Rachael couldn’t see any convicts at all. The smoke was thick. The taste of burnt wood and rubber coated the tongue with every breath. Rachael wasn’t sure what she should do. She needed to get to her grandmother. She knew she would be worried about her. She looked around but there was no way out. The living room door was in flames. The whole front of the house was engulfed with a wall of red heat. The hallway was well on its way to being unattainable. Fire had covered the ground to all exit points except the stairs.
“We have to go. This place will burn and collapse after a while,” He checked his weapon. “How many rounds do you have?”
Rachel removed her magazine and she counted three bullets. “Three left with one ready but we can’t just leave.” Her voice was sincere.
“I’m almost out. Look we can’t see anyone. We need to get out while we can and get a better hold.” The man looked her in the eye to show his seriousness.
She thought for a split moment. She had to help.
“I can’t leave Jack he saved my life. We have to get him first.”
“We don’t have time. If you go up there you won’t be able to come back this way. It will be impassable,” The man struggled to shout over the sound of roaring flames. “Those people will surround this house if we don’t hurry and will be coming through that door in a matter of seconds. We have to go.” The man looked and saw the answer in her eyes. There was a hard thumps at the burning front door. He withdrew his pistol he had slipped in his pocket after Jack gave him the shotgun. The Englishman took off and jumped high over the flames (pump action in hand) that burned between them and the hallway. The top of the flames touched his knee but he landed falling to a knee but was unharmed. The door burst open sending more flames everywhere and several men rushed in using a car hood against the flaming door for protection. Some wore jumpsuits and some did not. The British man quickly shot one in the head and another in the throat and kept running for the back door. Three more took their place. They shot at him but none seemed to hit based on their sour expression.
Rachael wasn’t sure wha
t she should do. Why hadn’t Jack come back down? The flames terrified her now. They were everywhere. The center of the room from the staircase to the front of the hallway was the only thing not covered by flames. The tips of the red hot blazes scraped at the thick smoky ceiling. It was starting to be a struggle just to inhale. The three men picked up and then threw the car door onto the line flames that blocked the hallway from the open floor of the living room. They ran across. Rachael fired all three of her bullets in a panic. She only hit one person also hitting the shoulder crippling him. She retreated up the stairs. The fear was overbearing. She knew she would die in this house tonight for someone she met only hours ago.
Jack was tending to his friend. It was saddening to see what his best friend went through to protect his best friend’s own family. He was patched but still in very bad condition. He wondered who had put these bandages on him. The other rooms. He needed to check the other rooms. His family had to be here somewhere.
“Marilyn! Jordan!” Jack took a step and he saw Jake appear from Jordan’s room. Jack’s spirits lifted he bent and called for his dog.
No Time To Mourn Page 21
