by Chris Draper
Clyde had a bad feeling about this guy. If he was in here loading a revolver then what had happened to Dottie and Hawk? While the man was still crouched down examining the woman Clyde pulled himself away from the wall, and with great effort turned over on his belly and started dragging himself across the floor towards where he was. It was harder than he thought and he didn't know what he'd do when he got over there, yet he persevered, getting to within a few feet of the table where the large man had been standing. The man had stood back up now, was shaking his head, his back still turned away from Clyde, and Clyde froze for a second and watched as he went back to the table and quickly loaded the bullets into the gun. Realizing he would turn around any minute Clyde made one last thrust forward and crawled up beside his large black boots. Clyde then grabbed a hold of one of the boots and the man looked down at him with an incredulous expression.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“My name...is Clyde.” He managed to breathe out firmly grasping the boot. “Drop...the gun.”
Randall raised his head and laughed then looked back down at him, “Are you for real man? Sweet dreams.”
Randall lowered the gun to Clyde's head but Clyde wasn't finished yet. He smacked the gun away and it flew a few feet across the floor underneath the couch.
“Where is Hawk and the girl?”
“Is this some kind of joke?” Randall said reaching down and pulling Clyde to his feet by the arms. “I think you're about to have a very bad day my friend.” Randall said then punched Clyde across the face and Clyde stumbled backwards, felt his legs crumble beneath him, and fell onto the floor with a heavy thud. Although the hit had been a good one Clyde had been in enough bar fights in his youth to know how to take a punch. He rubbed his swollen lip, then managed to pull himself up on the floor by his elbows and stood up slowly, wobbling a little as his legs regained feeling. He took a step back towards Randall, faked a left punch and followed it with an uppercut into his chest that hit like a cannonball. The hit knocked Randall backwards and he fell on top of the table, knocking most of the contents off the top onto the ground. Then he got up again and they exchanged a few punches back and forth, each one beginning to feel the strain until Randall grabbed Clyde, flung him headfirst over the table and both he and the table crashed onto the floor in a colossal heap.
Randall waited a second for Clyde to get back up and when he didn't let out a chuckle, muttered something about the fight being too easy, then turned his back towards the couch and bent down to retrieve the revolver from underneath. When he stood back up to leave, he heard a clamour from behind him and turned around.
Miraculously Clyde had gotten back up and was charging at him like an angry rhino. Clyde got hold of Randall's waist, then heaved him backwards over his head in a move that sent him volleying through mid air before landing on the broken table. Randall lay still there for a second in a daze, then came to and fired off a round in Clyde's direction, but his aim was off and Clyde skirted out of range before he even fired the shot. Next Clyde jumped on top of him and grabbed hold of the gun's handle and they fought that way for a minute, each gaining momentum briefly before losing it to the other, their foreheads glistening with sweat.
Twice Randall forced the end of the barrel towards Clyde's face but Clyde managed to work it away just in time before he could fire off a shot. Eventually Clyde gained the upper hand and moved the end of the gun's barrel towards Randall's chest. He held it there and Randall tried forcing it away but his hands were too sweaty and Clyde's strength was too great. Finally Clyde pulled the trigger and the gun jumped back as the bullet went into Randall's chest, then Randall put a hand over his heart, felt the life draining from his body, slid down the table onto the floor and lay still.
Clyde collapsed back onto the couch, his last ounce of strength diminished, he'd lost a lot of blood that had run down his bare chest onto his pants and the fight with Randall had only made things worse. He tried forcing himself up again to go outside and see what had happened to Hawk but he became disoriented when he stood up and had to sit back down. His mouth was dry and his breathing was shallow and he longed for a glass of water, but everything seemed too out of reach now, growing farther away by the second as the darkness started to creep through his body and mind, filling up his existence with an impenetrable shroud. And then he shut his eyes and the darkness overtook him.
≈
Travis was on top of Hawk near the edge of the water, thrashing wildly at his face with his fists. Hawk had his hands up, trying to swat away the punches but a few still managed to connect with his face. He tried to balance Travis on top of him, then bucked up his stomach like a bull and Travis went flying off and landed beside on the wet grass. They were both up in a minute and Travis charged at Hawk, but Hawk caught his head in his left arm and held him there, punching his back continuously until he yelled and pushed Hawk backwards.
They were dangerously close to the river's edge now, and Hawk could see the rushing waters below pounding away furiously at the rocks. A few more steps and they would both fall in and be lost to the rapids. Hawk had been keeping an eye on Byron by the Syndicate compound, he had Dottie forced against the wall, was saying something to her that he couldn’t hear and he'd noticed Randall had disappeared back inside the compound.
He couldn't focus on that too long though, as a second later Travis was in his face again trying to land punches. He went for a right hook that Hawk easily deflected and Hawk followed it with a punch to his stomach that caught Travis out of breath, then Hawk brought both his hands down on top of his head and Travis went down on all fours. He was up again a second later though, swinging madly in Hawk's direction but this time his balance was off and he staggered a little, then fell backwards and Hawk went to grab him but it was too late. He let out a final scream as he fell and was swallowed up a second later by the river's current. Byron heard the scream and looked over. He saw Hawk there, but not Travis and knew what had happened. Randall hadn't come back yet with his gun either.
He spotted the butt end of Etaro's rifle sticking out from under his dead body, and still holding Dottie's arm made a move to yank it out from under him. Hawk had walked away from the river's edge now, saw what was going on and ran over to try and stop Byron from getting the rifle but it was too late. Byron had reached the rifle now and was bringing it up in his right hand, aiming it in Hawk's direction. He still had Dottie gripped firmly in his left hand though, and she pulled away a little then brought up her left knee into his groin. Byron cursed her then hit her against the face with the end of the rifle and she fell down, then made sure the gun was loaded and took aim at Hawk and fired.
Hawk saw the muzzle flash, went to jump out of the way but ended up slipping instead and fell flat on his face. As he went down the bullet strafed the side of his forehead and he felt the cut on his temple. Too close.
He looked up again and this time Dottie had jumped on top of Byron, frantically trying to get the rifle out of his grasp. Byron spun around, trying to shake her off, but she was resilient and kept a hold on him. While that was going on Hawk spotted some large rocks sitting on top of the grave they had dug for Larry. He raced over, grabbed one of about medium size, then came upon Byron before he had a chance to load another round.
“Look out!” He yelled at Dottie and she saw Hawk there with the rock and ducked as he brought it down hard on Byron's skull. The hit was a good one and Byron dropped the rifle onto the ground and fell down beside it. He was still conscious though and Hawk quickly picked up the rifle, loaded up a shot and aimed it at him.
“It's all over Byron.” He yelled wiping water from his brow. “Your operation is through. Give it up.”
Byron was groaning and his head was gashed badly from the hit from the rock, he looked up at Hawk standing there, squinting at him through the driving rain.
“You've done well for yourself Hawk.” He chuckled and let out a harsh cough. “You've killed off my entire crew and now you'll shoot me down like a dog,
is that it?”
“It doesn't have to be this way.” Hawk said. “You'll be put away for the rest of your life, but you'll be alive.”
Byron snorted a laugh, looked away and shook his head. “You think just because you kill me this will end? There's hundreds of other people out there like me, maybe some that are ever better, you killing me won't solve a thing. Plus there's still other Syndicate alive who will come back and take my place.”
“You might be right about that. But there will be others like me as well, others who will rise up against people like you. You feel like you've been handed the short end of the stick by society and you think that gives you the right to justify your violence against others. But that's where you're wrong,” Hawk continued. “So maybe you’ve had a tough life, but do you think that gives you the right to decide who lives or dies? Well I think you're full of shit. So what's it gonna be Byron. Alive or dead?”
Byron glanced at the gun in Hawk's hand, then looked up at him with a smug grin. “I think you know the answer to that already Hawk.”
Hawk nodded, took a breath, aimed the rifle toward Byron. He hesitated for a second, seeing Byron's head in the scope, a grin still spread across his face. Why was he hesitating for? Was it that he felt like a hypocrite killing off someone the same way Byron had? Did this make him and Byron the same? He shook his head and tried not to think such things. Byron was a killer; killers had to die. That was the way it always had been. Hawk put his finger on the trigger, and at the exact moment he pulled it back Byron unexpectedly jumped up and tried grabbing the barrel of the rifle. The sudden movement caught Hawk off guard and instead of shooting Byron in the head, the shot went into the side of his stomach instead. Had he tried saving himself at the last moment? Did he all of a sudden decide he wanted to live?
Hawk would never know.
Byron took a few short gulps of air as he looked up at Hawk, then his head fell backward on the wet grass. Hawk lifted up Byron's leather jacket with the rifle barrel, peered underneath and saw his white undershirt was stained with blood. The hit had been a clean one, and looked to have hit him somewhere in his abdomen.
He folded back the leather jacket, looked over at Dottie who was beside him holding her body in her arms. She was shivering from the wetness and had on only a flimsy t-shirt that offered no protection in this type of weather. They looked around at the storm that was now getting worse.
“Let's get you inside.” Hawk said grabbing her arm. “The storms gonna get a lot worse before it gets better.”
Dottie touched his forehead. “You've been shot.”
“It's just a little scuff, I'll be fine.” He said. “Let's get you to cover.”
“Clyde's in there.” She said and noticed the look of surprise come over Hawk's face. “He got here while you were outside.”
“Clyde?” Hawk said in shock. “That's not possible.”
“He came here looking for you.” Dottie said. “He was the one who helped me get out of there. I had to kill Stacey...but she stabbed him. I bandaged him up before coming out here but he's been hurt real bad.”
“Crazy fool.” Hawk said shaking his head. “Come on.”
They rushed inside the compound and Hawk slammed the door shut behind him. They were drenched from head-to-toe and Dottie said she would go try to find some dry clothes in one of the rooms while Hawk went over and sat down beside Clyde. He was laying on the couch with his head tilted back, eyes closed, and Hawk checked his pulse and noticed it was faint. The bandage covering his stomach had soaked through with blood which had started to run down his stomach. Hawk looked around for some more bandages, saw a medkit opened in the kitchen, and quickly went over and grabbed some gauze. On the way there he had to step over the bodies of Randall and Stacey lying on the floor; the entire room was a mess of overturned tables, broken chairs, dead bodies, and blood stains. If Hawk hadn't known any better he would have thought Hurricane Hector had already been through the place.
With the gauze he went back to Clyde and wrapped the new set of bandage around him. He stirred a little at the sudden movement but his eyes remained closed. Dottie came back a minute later with some dry clothes and a blanket and Hawk told her to bring them over.
He reached out and put a hand on Clyde's forehead: It was ice cold. “We need to get him warm.” Hawk covered Clyde with the blanket up to his neck. “He's losing temperature rapidly.” Then he took Clyde's head in his hands, tried speaking to him: “Clyde, it's Hawk. Can you hear me?”
Clyde mumbled something incoherent that Hawk couldn't make out.
“He's delirious, he won't last long in this state.” Hawk said glancing at Dottie. “We're gonna need to move him to one of the rooms.”
Dottie nodded and Hawk went to grab Clyde's legs when all of a sudden he thought he heard Clyde say something and stopped. He motioned for Dottie to stay still, then leaned in close to his mouth.
“Clyde? Can you hear me?”
“Hawk.” Clyde breathed out in a harsh whisper and his eyes flickered open briefly before closing again. “You're alive.”
Hawk smiled and glanced at Dottie, then looked back down at Clyde.
“Yes, I am because of you.” He said patting his shoulder. “Why did you come back?”
“I had too...saw a news report.” Clyde coughed. His stomach felt like it was on fire and when he tried to speak the pain was unbearable. “Had a feeling that you were in trouble, had to come back to help you.”
“You didn't have to come back.” Hawk said. “You didn't owe me anything. If you saw a news report then you knew that it must have been dangerous.”
“Can't explain...why I had too. Something I would have regretted...had I not.”
“That's okay, I understand everything. I owe you my life.”
“No.” Clyde said. “I let you down.”
“You didn't let me down Clyde. You're a hero.” Hawk said and rubbed his friend’s cheek with the back of his hand. “If it wasn't for you I would have been a goner out there. Now try to relax, Dottie and I are going to go get help for you and then you'll be able to go home. Try not to talk now. It'll make things worse.”
Clyde tried lifting his head but felt the pain in his belly, winced, then lay back down. He took hold of Hawk's hand and his grip was feeble, like a child's and Hawk could tell he'd lost much of his strength. “It's too late for me now...not gonna make it.”
“Don't talk like that Clyde.” Hawk said. “We're gonna get you...”
“Hawk.” Clyde interrupted him. “Please...please make sure my wife is okay. My address...is in my wallet...my pocket...go to her...”
Hawk looked over at Dottie who had started to cry, looked back at Clyde still clutching his hand.
“You need to tell her...I had to come. Had no choice...”
“I will.” Hawk said trying his best to be reassuring. “I'll tell her everything.”
“Thank you.” Clyde said and closed his eyes.
Hawk waited a few seconds for him to say something else but he stayed quiet, then Hawk shook him a little, tried saying his name but he didn't answer this time. He checked his pulse, felt nothing there and knew he was gone. Dottie looked at him expectantly and he shook his head, then she buried her face in her hands and started to sob.
He fished under the blanket in Clyde's pocket, found his wallet with the address in it, then opened it up. Inside was a few bills, some cards, and a photograph of Clyde and his family. It was a picture taken at Christmas in front of one of those artificial fireplace backdrops. Hawk smiled, closed the wallet, got up and patted Clyde's shoulder. He would go to Clyde's wife if it was the last thing he ever did. She needed to know the sacrifice her husband had made for them all.
“He was a good man.” Hawk said pulling the blanket over Clyde's face. “He didn't have to come back for me.”
Dottie got up wiping the tears away from her face. “I'll make sure my father knows the sacrifice he made.” She said. “So that his death wasn't in vain.”
“I think that you should, what Clyde did here should never be forgotten,” Hawk said. “And speaking of your father, we need to get you to him right away. I was against contacting the police before since your father said he didn't want any publicity on the case.”
“That sounds like daddy all right, always worried about his image...”
“But now I think it's become absolutely necessary. This has become something far worse than I could have ever imagined.”
“So what do we do?”
“We need to get help right away.” Hawk said looking over at Randall's body on the floor. “He might have a phone on him.”
Hawk went over, knelt down, searched Randall's pockets and pulled out a Samsung. He tried placing a call but the phone read out of service. He shook his head in disappointment then put it back.
“We're not going to be able to contact anyone that way.” Hawk said. “Not with that damn storm outside cutting through all the signals.”
“What if we took one of the vehicles?”
“We wouldn't make it more than a mile in that storm.” Hawk said looking at a flickering lightbulb on the ceiling. It felt like the entire foundation of the building was shaking beneath them. “Worst case scenario we'll have to wait until the storm clears out. Which hopefully won't be more than a few hours.”
Dottie put a finger to her lip thinking for a moment, then her face lit up suddenly. “I know another way. I remember Byron mentioning once that he had a communications deck installed here in case a storm ever hit, and I think I know where it is.”
