by Bruno Miller
The water stopped flowing as quickly as it had started, and he wiped his face clear of the excess spillage with his T-shirt. When he pulled the shirt away, he wasn’t surprised to see the amount of dirt and soot that came off his face. He felt better, but this was no time to sit back and relax. He grabbed the shotgun, returned to the edge of the roof, and resumed his position.
The vehicles were close enough now that he could make out more than just their lights. Some of them weren’t cars at all; instead, most of the meandering lights belonged to ATVs. A black Ford pickup led the caravan, followed by a few ATVs. Lastly, a few more ATVs brought up the rear.
Vince was happy to see the four-wheelers in the mix. They were open targets and left their drivers and passengers exposed. If and when the shooting started, they’d be quick to run for cover. That meant he could focus on the pickup and the car.
As they emerged from the smoke one by one, Vince could also see that the ATV operators all had weapons slung over their bodies. Most were shotguns, and a few had assault-style rifles or AR-15s. They also had their faces covered with bandanas or rags and goggles over their eyes, no doubt to protect against smoke and debris in the air.
The fact that they were all armed, even the passengers on the ATVs, confirmed that they meant business. A few of the passengers on the four-wheelers carried bottles of booze. They were taking turns with the bottles and passing them back and forth as they drove dangerously close to one another and crawled toward the garage. At this range, Vince could make out the occasional hoot and holler from some of the riders as they drove erratically down the road.
The Ford pickup slowed and began to make the turn into the garage parking lot, but before it pulled off the road, a man leaned out of the passenger window. He held up a liquor bottle and drained the remainder of the contents in one gulp. Then, with a loud whoop, he tossed the empty bottle into the air and over the back of the truck, toward the ATVs. The first rider in line behind the truck was already stopped and whipped out a pistol from his waistband.
CRACK! CRACK!
The sound of the low-caliber pistol echoed off the front of the building and Vince ducked down behind the block wall instinctively. A moment later, he heard the bottle smash as it landed on the asphalt. When he peered back over the wall and down onto the scene below him, the passenger in the pickup had launched into a profanity-laced tirade directed at the shooter, no doubt in response to the two shots that missed the bottle and sailed past the pickup. The driver of the ATV shouted something back, but the passenger was already back inside the moving truck as it pulled into the lot and made a 180-degree turn.
For a brief moment, Vince thought they changed their minds in the midst of their argument and were leaving. Then he saw the backup lights flash on the pickup. His heart sank a little as he realized they were only positioning the truck to back it up bed-first to the store, making it easier to load what they stole.
Vince wondered if the others had heard the gunshots or the loud revving of the ATVs, but he hoped they hadn’t. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to come out of the motel to see what was going on. He had no doubt now that the intruders would be quick to shoot at anyone they deemed a threat. Vince glanced over at Bill’s location under the van—or at least where he hoped Bill was—as the rest of the ATVs and the car pulled into the lot. The car parked near the front of the store and close to Bill’s truck, but most of the ATVs tore around the parking lot, unnecessarily doing donuts and foolish stunts. If the others back at the motel hadn’t heard them yet, they would surely hear this.
After a little while, they settled down and surrounded the pickup and the car. They were all practically underneath Vince now, and from his position on the roof, he had a bird’s-eye view of the group. His optimism was bolstered by the relatively short distance between him and the looters and his angle of attack. The tightness of the group also ensured multiple hits with the shotgun at this distance.
There would be no negotiating with these people. They were here to clean out the store and take what they wanted from the garage as well. What they didn’t get on this trip they would return for until they had cleaned the place out. And they wouldn’t stop there; it would only be a matter of time before they discovered the motel and the others.
Before the caravan of intruders had come into plain view, Vince struggled with the moral dilemma of shooting first and taking a life as opposed to maybe trying to reason with them. But that was no longer a concern, and he knew what he had to do.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Vince tightened his grip on the shotgun as the tension built. Some of the riders dismounted the ATVs and assembled between the car and the pickup. There didn’t appear to be much organization among the group, but there was clearly a pecking order, as they watched the driver of the pickup closely. Vince could see down into the window of the Ford and watched the man at the wheel unwrap a cigar and then stuck it into his mouth. He wore a ball cap and a plaid shirt and took the time to chew on the cigar and talk with his passenger for a moment before he got out and addressed the gathering crowd.
“Listen up, people. We’re going to do this a little different from the last place we hit. I want at least three of you to stay outside and keep an eye on things. That’s why we ran into trouble last time and lost Junior. Those people never woulda got the jump on us if you’d kept a lookout. And by all means, if you see somebody with a gun, just shoot ’em without hesitating this time, Bobby.” The man directed his attention to one of the ATV riders at the outside of the group. Vince assumed that was Bobby and that he’d screwed up at the last place they robbed.
One of the other gang members scolded Bobby. “You’re lucky I’m a good shot or they woulda got more than one of us.”
A few of the others chimed in and gave their opinions, but Vince wasn’t paying attention now. He was slowly and quietly getting ready to take his shot. He’d heard enough to alleviate any feelings of guilt or doubt about what he was preparing to do. These people were killers and thieves and needed to be dealt with accordingly. As Vince began to line up his shot and flick off the safety, out of the corner of his eye he caught some movement from the motel parking lot. But before he could make out who it was, he saw a muzzle flash from the across the street. It was Jim running full tilt across the motel parking lot. What was he thinking?
BOOM!
Then another muzzle flash, this time from under the van, followed instantly by the crack of Bill’s rifle. The back window of the car below him exploded in a shower of glass fragments and one of the ATV riders fell to the ground with an agonizing scream.
“I’m hit!” He rolled around on the ground as the others abandoned him. Some ran for cover and some chose instead to head for their four-wheelers. But they didn’t move quickly enough, and Vince lined up on the driver of the pickup and two others who were unfortunate enough to be standing close by.
Flames and sparks leapt out of the end of his shotgun as the fifteen steel balls left the barrel. The three looters in their path didn’t stand a chance at that range and were thrown to the ground by the force of the impact. One of them bounced off the side of the pickup before landing lifelessly on the ground, leaving a bloody stain and a dent where he hit the truck. The driver fell into the open door of the truck and clawed at the wheel for a moment before losing his grip and sliding down to the pavement in a hunched-over bloody mess.
Without hesitation, Vince pumped another round into the shotgun and lined up to take another shot. But everyone was moving now—and fast. The element of surprise was gone and he was now a target. A shot ricocheted off the concrete block wall in front of him and he dropped into a prone position behind the wall before he could get a shot off. From behind his cover, he heard gunshots and some of the ATVs revving up. A few of the shots landed dangerously close, as they hit the block wall in front of Vince. His mind flashed back to a time when he shot an old cinderblock with his .308. It took him only three rounds with the M1A to completely demolish the thing, and
he was surprised at how fragile it was. He couldn’t help but wonder how safe he really was.
Already lying flat on the roof, he rolled to his left, several feet down the wall, and popped up. He scanned the area, searching for a target, and caught a glimpse of someone hiding behind a thin metal sign at the edge of the property. The shooter had his gun trained where Vince had been when he took the first shot. The man saw Vince and began to turn his gun, but it was too late.
Vince squeezed the trigger and felt the kick of the gun as he launched another barrage of steel balls at his attacker. The distance was greater than the last shot, but even at forty yards, the steel tore through the thin aluminum sign like it was paper. The sheet metal rippled as the shot made contact and went through, leaving several holes behind. The man froze for a moment before dropping out of sight behind the advertisement.
Pumping another round into the chamber, Vince looked for his next target. The car directly below him came to life as the rear wheels chirped and began spinning their way through the broken glass from the back window. It began to pick up speed, moving backward through the parking lot and heading for the road. Vince unleashed another round of steel shots at the moving vehicle but misjudged. Sparks flew as the double-aught buck cut into the hood of the car, leaving behind a handful of small holes.
He tried to calm down as he searched for any immediate threats. The intruders were scattered now and a few of them were moving down the road on the ATVs.
He thought about taking another crack at the car, but it was out on the street now and he didn’t want to waste another shot. With only three rounds left in the shotgun, he needed to save them in case there were any more looters still shooting at him. The car tires squealed as the driver cut the wheel and threw it in drive. Steam rose from the grill, and Vince was at least glad he’d done some damage to the vehicle.
The Ford pickup was still there, but then again, so was the driver. There were also a couple ATVs still parked in the lot, but those must have belonged to the bodies lying on the ground. Some of the gang who fled the scene early had doubled up on the ATVs and made their escape that way.
Vince crouched down behind the wall once again and surveyed the area. He still had to be careful. The recent breeze that kicked up during the skirmish was gone and the smoke was beginning to settle back in, obscuring his view. He couldn’t see the motel parking lot or the van anymore and had no idea how Bill and Jim had made out. Vince thought about how much more damage he could have done if Jim hadn’t blown it for them.
What was the guy thinking, running across the parking lot and shooting like a wild man? Jim was lucky he and Bill were prepared to help or else he would have been gunned down instantly. Not everybody could keep it together when faced with a situation like this. It wasn’t that Jim was a danger per se, just that he probably couldn’t be relied upon to follow through with a plan, especially if his actions today were his idea of a well-thought-out approach. Vince made a mental note to consider Jim a liability the next time they faced off with these people. And Vince was certain there would be a next time.
Sure, they had the upper hand this time and they had the advantage right now. The intruders had no idea how many of them there were, and that was good. They had fired on the gang from a few directions and surprised them. But now they knew what to expect, and when they came back, they’d be ready for a fight.
Their performance today had only bought them some time. How much time, though, Vince didn’t know. The looters would go back and lick their wounds, only to return with revenge on their minds. With their leader down, Vince hoped it would take some time for them to regroup. The looters were down but far from out.
Based on Jim’s description, there were more than what had shown up tonight. But how many more? There were easily a dozen people here tonight, but only one car and one truck. Jim said there were three cars and two trucks when he saw them earlier. They could have been the ones on the ATVs, but Vince doubted that. They wouldn’t bring four-wheelers if they had other larger vehicles at their disposal to help empty out the store.
The rest of the gang was probably off looting somewhere else. There would still be other places with supplies if they hadn’t burned down. But those resources wouldn’t last long. Once the looters had exhausted the easy targets, they’d be back. Vince gathered his .45 and the box of shotgun shells. Satisfied the threat had passed, he started for the ladder.
“Major, come quick,” Bill called out from somewhere off in the distance.
Vince could tell by the sound of Bill’s voice that something was wrong. “Hang on. I’m on my way.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Vince tucked the .45 into the holster and descended the ladder as fast as he could while juggling the shotgun and the box of ammo. As he came out of the rear yard and exited the gate, he glanced over at the Ford pickup and the bodies on the ground around it. Between the lack of movement and the pools of blood they were lying in, it was safe to assume they were dead. But as badly as he wanted to get to Bill, he had to make sure.
He thought about gathering their weapons, but his hands were already full. He’d come back later with some help and gets things squared away. Careful not to put his foot in the expanding pool of blood, he stepped over the body and checked out the inside the Ford. It was mostly empty except for the floor, which was littered with empty beer cans and trash. He was glad to see the keys dangling from the ignition and reached in to grab them. Another running vehicle would be a huge help to them, especially since the van was a loss and wouldn’t be drivable the way it was.
“Vince, hurry!” Bill called out again.
“I’m coming.” Vince shoved the keys in his pocket and jogged over to where the man had been hiding behind the sign. He was dead as well. The lifeless body lay in the fetal position on the ground, his hand still clutching the AR-15 that he shot at Vince with. Vince kicked at the gun until it broke free of the man’s stiff dead hand and skittered across the pavement a few feet. Satisfied there were no more threats, Vince continued toward the motel and the sound of Bill’s voice.
On the way out of the parking lot, he noticed a trail of antifreeze on the ground, which led out to the road and followed the path the car had taken while making its hasty escape from the shootout. If only he’d aimed a little higher, they wouldn’t have gotten away.
As he crossed the road, he could see flashlights through the smoke. It looked like everyone was outside and standing around in a circle. No one was talking and they were all looking down at the ground. Vince slowed to a walk as he approached and tried to catch his breath. He was glad to see Cy safe and standing among the small group.
“What’s going on?” Vince asked. Only a few of them looked back in his direction.
Cy shook his head. “It’s Jim.”
Vince approached as the others stepped aside to reveal Reese kneeling over Jim’s body. She held a blood-stained wad of gauze on his neck as she turned to look at Vince with watery eyes. She shook her head slowly, got up from her knees, and took a few steps back, her hands covered in Jim’s blood. He’d taken a direct hit to the neck and bled out on the ground. There was nothing any of them could have done for him.
They stood around in silence for what felt like a couple minutes while they processed what happened. Fred put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder and pulled her back even farther.
“There was nothing you could do, honey. It’s okay,” Hannah said through a cough. She was right. Judging by the location of the wound and the amount of blood on the ground, Jim most likely died in a matter of seconds after he was hit. Reese’s parents led her away and headed back toward the motel while the others stood fast.
“Hold these.” Vince handed the box of ammo and the shotgun to Cy before crouching down by the body. He ran his fingers over Jim’s still open eyes and closed them before moving his feet together.
“Tom, give me a hand, will you?” Vince asked. “We can’t leave him out here.”
“Sure.” Tom
bent down and grabbed his arms. Jim’s head fell back as they lifted him off the ground, exposing the large hole in his neck. Vince looked away but the image was burned into his mind. He hadn’t seen a wound like that in a long time, and it brought back memories of things he’d rather forget.
“Get the gun.” Vince looked at Bill, who was as still as a statue and rather pale. Bill didn’t answer and instead nodded slowly. Using only a couple fingers to avoid getting bloody, he carefully picked the oversized revolver up off the ground. Bill had probably seen Jim get hit, and judging by the carnage, it had left an impression on the man. Bill was a good mechanic and, as far as Vince knew, a standup guy, but this was something he wasn’t prepared for. Vince had to remind himself that not everyone was equipped to deal with things like this.
Unfortunately, this was the new world in which they lived, and there were tougher days ahead. As they carried Jim’s body around the side of the building, Vince couldn’t help but think that they had just lost an able-bodied person who could have helped out with a lot of things. They were going to need everyone if they were going to survive, and this was a big loss, even if Jim was a little impulsive. Vince felt guilty for thinking the things that went through his mind earlier when he dismissed him as a liability.
There were only twelve of them now, two of whom were young children. That wasn’t many people, considering the amount of work that lay ahead. Hopefully they would find more survivors after the fires died down. It was a catch-22, though, and more people needed more supplies. They would all have to pull their weight to survive. There was no room for those who didn’t want to work or help out in any way they could. Even those with physical limitations would have to find a way to contribute to the overall cause. It was harsh, but it was the way it had to be.
