Buck Out

by Ken Benton

  “Thanks for the transportation,” Pastor Green said. “I know it wasn’t all that easy for you. I can get a ride home from here. If you boys are interested in acquiring more produce, you might want to see what’s happening before taking off. Looks like Bryce might be letting folks glean this field.”

  Malcolm looked at Ryan.

  Ryan nodded. “We should.”

  They left their helmets hanging from the handlebars, but Ryan took his shotgun with him. He laid it over his shoulder as nonchalantly as he could. The three of them crossed the parking lot towards the buildings.

  When they came around the back side of the trucks, Malcolm saw the Store sign. He also saw a smaller sign hanging over it that said Closed.

  A redheaded woman came out the front door of the store.

  “Sorry, we’re all cleaned out,” she said. “But you’re welcome to pick your own peas in the field behind you. They’re just about ripe—or close enough, anyway. No charge today.”

  Pastor Green responded. “A generous person will prosper, and whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.”

  The woman politely smiled in return.

  “Oh, there’s Bryce.” Pastor Green motioned towards the trucks. A bald man with a blond beard and dark sunglasses now stood pointing into one of the cargo holds, giving instructions to the workers loading it.

  “Come on.” Pastor Green began walking towards him. “Let’s say hello.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “The girl at the store was right,” Malcolm said. “These peas aren’t quite ripe.”

  Ryan split a pod open and held it over his mouth. “What makes you say that?”

  “You have to scrape them out with your teeth. If they were ripe, you could just shake the pod and they’d all fall out.”

  “That’s not accurate,” Pastor Green said.

  Malcolm and Ryan both looked at him.

  “In the middle ages,” he explained, “peas weren’t considered ripe until they turned yellow. Nowadays, we pick ‘em while they’re still green, which would have been considered madness back then. As long you can eat them, I’m certain they’re nutritious. And they still taste good enough.” He put another handful in the burlap sack Bryce gave him.

  Ryan zipped his backpack up. “I’ve got enough.”

  Malcolm did the same. “Me too. It’s been great meeting you, Pastor Green. I wish you the best of luck.”

  “I don’t believe in luck. And the pleasure has been all mine, boys. Rest assured your generosity never goes unnoticed. If you’re ever in this area on a Sunday morning, stop by the Ninety-nine Sheep Baptist Church in Carlisle and attend a service.”

  “Why is it called Ninety-nine Sheep?” Ryan asked.

  “Ah, my favorite question. Jesus said a good shepherd who has a flock of a hundred will leave the ninety-nine in search of one lost sheep. We like to think we’re the ninety-nine who don’t go wandering off. A tad brazen, perhaps, but good intentions are no sin...”

  Malcolm noticed the pastor’s words trailing and his attention being drawn by something.

  Malcolm turned around. A group of about fifteen men had suddenly emerged from the woods and were trotting towards the food trucks. All of them appeared to be carrying weapons. Some had rifles. They weren’t dressed in military clothes.

  “What the hell is going on there?” Malcolm said.

  Before anyone could answer, the men reached the back of the trucks. Shouts erupted, followed by two gunshots, and then the sounds of the big rear doors slamming shut. The armed men then began jumping into the cabs.

  “I believe your assessment that something from hell may be happening is correct,” Pastor Green said. “God protect Bryce and his family.”

  “Is this a hijacking?” Ryan said, his voice cracking with unbelief.

  The truck engines started coming to life. A woman screamed. More gunshots. More rear doors slamming. More bandits jumping into cabs.

  “No way,” Malcolm said. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing! How do they plan on getting past the National Guard?”

  Malcolm’s question was answered when the first three trucks began moving. They didn’t go out the entrance road. They barreled forward instead, up over the curb and out into the pea field. Straight towards Malcolm, Ryan, and Pastor Green.

  “We better clear out!” Ryan said shouldering his pack and picking up the shotgun. “That way! Come on, Pastor!” He pushed Malcolm to the left and tugged on Pastor Green’s arm.

  The three of them started jogging towards the trees, keeping an eye on the approaching trucks. As they did, the guardsmen came into view, responding. Most of them were running with assault rifles in hand. The Humvee then passed by those who were on foot.

  The Humvee slowed when shots fired at it from one of the trucks. Most of the infantrymen also stopped and crouched. Some returned fire.

  “Keep low!” Ryan shouted. “They’ll be crossfire from the gunfight!”

  Malcolm and Ryan crouched and continued jogging. The pastor, however, didn’t. Ryan stopped, went back to him, and forced him to hunch over—just as more gunfire erupted.

  The pastor stumbled and fell. Ryan dropped down beside him.

  Malcolm came back to them. More gunfire from the parking lot. Malcolm then heard the crack of a bullet whizzing overhead.

  Ryan apparently heard it too. “Stay down!” he said. “We should be out of their way here. Everyone lay on the ground.”

  Malcolm and Pastor Green did as he said, but Malcolm kept his head up far enough over the pea plants to see what was happening.

  The first three trucks were now out in the field, kicking up dirt. Another had just come over the curb and was following from a distance. The last two were still in the parking lot, moving and exchanging gunfire with the guardsmen.

  One of the trucks in the parking lot made a sudden erratic turn away from the gunfire. It sideswiped a car, and then ran over Malcolm and Ryan’s scooters.

  “Dammit!” Ryan said.

  The two scooters were undeniably mangled when the rear end of the truck spit them out. That truck then stopped. Malcolm thought he saw blood on the windshield. The cab door opened and two of the hijackers ran out the passenger side towards the woods, hunched over and zigzagging. They made it to the trees.

  Meanwhile, the Humvee was now out in the pea field, gaining on the lead trucks like a cheetah running down a tortoise. Two guardsmen could be seen pointing rifles out the windows of the Humvee, taking an occasional shot. The trucks were forced to turn away from the Humvee—and head directly towards Malcolm, Ryan, and Pastor Green’s position.

  “We need to move again,” Ryan said. “Are you okay, Pastor?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Lead the way.”

  The three of them rose from the soil and sprinted towards the only reasonable shelter—the woods. Anywhere else would be in the open, and risk ending up in the path of the chase. Not to mention the stray bullets.

  They made it, but not far in advance of the three trucks. Ryan took them away from the action inside the trees, but just a short ways. These woods now harbored armed fugitives. Ryan wisely chose to remain on the outskirts.

  They halted behind a tight clumping of trees to look behind. From here they might be able to safely witness the outcome of the chase.

  The pursued trucks came to a stop at the trees. Seven hijackers scrambled out of the three cabs and ran into the woods. Gunfire came from the Humvee. One of the hijackers didn’t make it.

  Five guardsmen on foot also arrived, and let loose with a wave of crossfire at the fleeing hijackers in the woods.

  That seemed to satisfy the Humvee driver. He made an abrupt U-turn and gave chase to the two remaining food trucks, which were now in the pea field and beginning to shrink in the distance. It looked like they might get away.

  They didn’t. The Humvee closed on them like a police boat chasing a kayak.

  More gunshots from within the trees. The sound of a ricochet from a nearby trunk prodded Ryan t
o lead them out of the woods again.

  Back in the open, a boulder marked the pea field boundary a short ways from the woods. It wasn’t huge, but big enough for the three of them to hunker behind. They scrambled to it, and there took refuge again.

  Malcolm sat and caught his breath. He wondered if Hannah had ever been through anything like this. She never liked to talk about that aspect of her work, and Malcolm didn’t ask. The last thing he wanted to know about was his wife ever being in danger on the job. But Malcolm was well aware of what she did for a living. This was probably the plight of all spouses of law enforcement officers. Better to live in denial and pretend the hazardous situations only happened to others. Heck, Malcolm didn’t know if he could ever tell her this story, either.

  The continuing gunshot sounds moved deeper into the woods. Malcolm stuck his head over the rock to have a look. Ryan and Pastor Green’s heads were already there.

  Two more guardsmen arrived on foot. They walked along the outside edge of the woods until one of them found an entry point he liked, and led the other inside.

  That’s when Malcolm noticed something move thirty yards beyond them.

  “Hey!” Malcolm whispered. He elbowed Ryan.

  Ryan looked where Malcolm motioned, and then pulled Pastor Green back down below the rock. Malcolm and Ryan kept themselves up enough to peep over.

  Three hijackers emerged from the woods and crept along the outside of it. They were watching the two guardsmen who ducked into the trees. One hijacker held a shotgun, one a rifle, and the other a pistol. The one with the shotgun pointed with his finger into the woods, through the spot the guardsmen just entered. They were obviously stalking them.

  That was all Malcolm needed to see. He slipped down behind the boulder, opened his backpack, and withdrew the two rifle halves. Eight seconds later it was together in his hands, ready to fire.

  Pastor Green, having witnessed the assembly, raised his eyebrows. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Malcolm whispered back. “Three of the hijackers are ambushing two guardsmen. We can’t let that happen.” He looked up at Ryan and raised the tone of his voice slightly. “Can we?”

  Ryan looked back and forth between the woods and Malcolm twice before answering. “No. We can’t.”

  “I’d like to help,” Pastor Green said. “Wish you gentlemen had another gun.”

  Malcolm looked at Ryan and reached under his coat, but then brought his hand back out empty. Ryan shook his head, opened his backpack, and produced his XD-9. He held his precious pistol out to the pastor.

  “I’m better with a shotgun,” Pastor Green said.

  Ryan hesitated—but only for a second—before surrendering the 20-gauge to him. “You’ve got eight shots,” he said.

  All three of them peeked back over the rock just in time to see the three bad guys skulking into the woods.

  Ryan pointed to a spot directly across from the rock, where the hijackers had emerged from a minute ago.

  “We can probably get behind them there without being seen. Maybe we can somehow warn the guardsmen from there.”

  “Nothing will warn them like gunfire,” Malcolm said. “Ready when you are.”

  “All right, let’s go. Stay low. Stay quiet. And move fast!”

  Malcolm led the way across the open this time, crouching as he ran. The pastor stayed right on his heels.

  They quickly found themselves back in the woods. Ryan moved in front and guided them through the trees, stepping quietly. Malcolm and Pastor Green followed his example the best they could.

  Ryan stopped. He pointed to a log pile on their left. Malcolm nodded. The three of them took positions behind the cover.

  “I saw someone moving,” Ryan said.

  They peeked above their natural breastwork to discover a wide clearing directly in front of them. Malcolm detected movement in the trees to the right of it. On the opposite side of the clearing a cluster of additional downed trees could be seen.

  The three ambushers then appeared in the clearing from the right. They were spread out, and moved carefully. One approached the downed trees from the middle, and the other two from opposite sides. The one with the shotgun was closest to Malcolm.

  Malcolm felt a tug on his shirt and allowed himself to be pulled back down behind the logs.

  “If the guardsmen are on the opposite side of that cover,” Ryan said in a hoarse whisper, “they’re about to be ambushed from three sides. We need to alert them, now.”

  “I’m ready,” Pastor Green said.

  Malcolm looked at him. “You should just stay down, Pastor. Ryan and I are experienced marksmen.”

  “God protects those who place their faith in Him,” the pastor replied, “and a man consecrated to God’s will is bulletproof until God decides to call him home—in which case nothing can stop it anyway.”

  Ryan frowned in response. “Then maybe you should give me back my shotgun and run at the hijackers with a stick, if nothing can hurt you.”

  The pastor tightened his grip on the gun. “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord. And there’s an awful lot of scriptures condemning foolishness.”

  Suddenly, before Malcolm could stop him, Pastor Green ran out from cover and vanished into the trees on the left.

  “Great,” Ryan said. “It’s up to us. Think you can get the one with the shotgun?”

  The two of them peeked back over their structure. Ryan extended his hands and aimed his pistol. The three bad guys were still visible, but not perfect targets. They were getting close to springing their trap.

  Malcolm knew they needed to act. He held the Ruger 10/22 forward and braced it on the top log. Getting a bead on the shotgun holder was difficult at the moment.

  Malcolm felt a bulge in his pocket pressing against the logs. In a flash of inspiration, he knew what it was. Without considering the situation further, he sent his hand into the pocket, retrieved Emma’s whistle, and blew.

  It was a good whistle. Loud and shrill.

  A startled Ryan glared at him. “What the hell, man?”

  That’s when the gunfire started.

  The first shots were only a panicky reaction from the ambushers. They spun around and fired wildly in response to the whistle.

  That got the attention of the two guardsmen they were stalking, who also seemed to fire blindly in response from behind the downed trees, in the direction of the shooters.

  The hijackers, realizing the jig was up, retreated from their approach. Ryan put several shots in front of the one with the rifle, stopping his retreat across the clearing. The rifleman then kneeled and took aim at Malcolm and Ryan’s position.

  Malcolm popped off two rounds at the one with the shotgun, who then vanished into the trees on the left.

  The one in the middle, holding the pistol, didn’t seem to know what to do. He fired a shot at the guardsmen, turned and fired another at Malcolm and Ryan, ran twenty yards forward and repeated. Malcolm figured he could get that one, if only the one with the rifle hadn’t started hitting the top log of the breastwork. Wood chips flew close to Malcolm’s face. He and Ryan were forced to duck back behind the cover.

  But more ensuing fire from the guardsmen instantly provided them the opportunity to pop back up. Sure enough, both visible hijackers had turned to the rear threat.

  The one with the pistol decided to make a break across the clearing. Malcolm began firing rapid shots in a straight line in front of him. Good to have a semi-automatic weapon sometimes. The hijacker ran straight into the fire line and took a slug in the upper arm, which spun him backwards. It was long enough for Malcolm to put another in his chest. After recoiling, he dropped to the grass in a kneeling motion.

  A shotgun blast came from the trees on the left. Which shotgun it came from was anyone’s guess—until a deep voice shouted from the same spot: “Praise the Lord!”

  “Guess we know who got who,” Ryan muttered.

  But one of the guardsmen fired back at the pastor’s position in the woods.


  Malcolm blew the whistle again. “Friendly fire!” he shouted.

  All gunfire stopped. But only for a moment. The hijacker with the rifle began hitting the log at Malcolm and Ryan’s head again. They had to duck back behind it.

  Ryan crawled out the side of the woodpile this time and aimed his 9-millimeter carefully, with both hands, while lying on the ground. He took three rapid shots.

  “Got you, you son of a bitch.”

  More gunfire answered from the guardsmen’s position.

  Then it stopped. A long moment of silence passed.

  Ryan eased himself back up. “I think it’s over.”

  Malcolm peeked over the breastwork. No one was in sight.

  That didn’t last. Pastor Green came out from between two trees on the left. When he saw Malcolm and Ryan, he shouted again: “Thank you Almighty God for your hand of protection!”

  The two guardsmen then appeared from farther down the tree line. One held his assault rifle at the pastor. The other at Malcolm and Ryan.

  “Drop your weapons and come out in the open!” one of them shouted.

  Pastor Green threw the shotgun out before him, raised his hands, and walked into the clearing, all the while looking up and moving his lips.

  Malcolm and Ryan set their weapons down, raised their hands and came forward.

  Distant gunshots echoed—some from deep in the woods, others from far out in the pea field.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I’m Captain Martinez,” the muscular guardsman said. When he talked his short-trimmed mustache danced at both ends. “Thank you for your help.”

  Malcolm turned his attention back from watching the medevac helicopter lift off the pea field. That one now carried two injured crooks—including the one Malcolm put two .22LR slugs in.

  “I’m impressed with your abilities,” the captain continued. “None of you have military training?”

  Malcolm and Ryan shook their heads.

  “No,” Pastor Green said giggling. Bryce stood behind him, dark sunglasses still on, massaging the pastor’s shoulders. The giddiness these two friends experienced upon learning each escaped unharmed was in no hurry to abate.