Survive the Fall (EMP: Return of the Wild West Book 1)

by Grace Hamilton

  She dared a glance at the mayor and realized he was looking away, a distance in his eyes. “Yeah, shame about the Carmichaels,” he said. “Good family.”

  “I’ll wind up with a bunch of dead cows, and then what’ll I do?” she said. “Yeah, I can see how a person might lose hope.” She pulled out the ribs, the paper crackling in her hands. The cop took a step into the room, as if she thought it might somehow be a weapon, but the smell of salted meat soon filled the office. “Anyway, I’m not going to let that happen. I am responsible for what happens to my family. Darryl was right to cut a deal. I can’t take care of the ranch, so…” She set the meat on the cleanest corner of the desk. The mayor peeled back the paper and took a look. “I’m basically going to give you control of the ranch. You can divvy up the meat as you see fit. It’s better than watching all of the cows die and rot, and we just can’t do it on our own.”

  The mayor stared at the red edge of meat for a few seconds, a blank expression on his face, as if he had no emotion at all. Finally, he put the paper back in place, blinked a few times as if to clear his mind, and then gave Tabitha the barest hint of a smile.

  “It’s certainly the right decision. I’ll give you that,” he said. “We would have to take a look at the ranch to make sure it’s worth our time. Is the meat here a gift?”

  “A peace offering,” Tabitha said. “Look, I’m basically giving the ranch to the community. Do with it as you please. My family and I will just go on living our lives in the house. If you want to take a look around, come on out this afternoon. Bring Pam here, bring your guards, whatever you want to do. I know I can be a stubborn old cuss, and we haven’t always gotten along, but I’m swallowing my pride. This is just what it’s come to.” She gave him a look that she hoped appeared to be slight embarrassment.

  He nodded slowly and resumed tapping his pen. “Tell you what, Tabitha. I’ve got some business to attend to, but I’ll come out your way in a few hours. Of course, I’ll have a few of my guards with me. I hope you understand. Guns, like fences, make good neighbors. It’s not because I don’t believe you.”

  “I completely understand,” Tabitha said, zipping up the backpack. “Bring your guards. We won’t be any trouble. The ranch belongs to the town now. That’s it.”

  And with that, she rose. As she headed for the door, Pam Grasier stepped to one side, giving her a cool look. Maybe the cop didn’t buy her story.

  As long as Filmore does, we’re fine, she thought.

  “You’ve made the right decision,” the mayor said, as she headed out of his office. “For your family.”

  Yes, I have, she thought, striding across the meeting room, past all of the stacks of stolen and acquired food.

  33

  Tabitha huddled with Darryl, Marion, Horace, and Justine on the porch. She felt her heartbeat in the back of her throat, an incessant drumbeat warning her about what was to come.

  “He bought it,” she said. “Maybe not completely, but enough that he’s willing to come here this afternoon. He’ll have guards with him. I don’t know how many, so let’s be ready. I’ve opened the gun case, so each of us will be armed. Justine, can you handle a weapon?”

  “I think so,” she replied. “We used to go deer hunting. I’m a decent shot, actually. At least, that’s what my dad told me.”

  “Good,” Tabitha said. “Then I have just the place for you. Let’s take our positions. Darryl, you get to be the welcome wagon. Are you okay with that?”

  “Whatever I have to do,” he replied. He sounded out of breath. No doubt as anxious as the rest of them. “I bet he’ll have Ricky and Julian with him. Let’s just get this over with.”

  Ricky and Julian? She didn’t know what to make of that, but she let it go.

  Horace had been silent through most of this, but he spoke now with the calm certainty of a man who knew the business of killing. “When it’s time to pull the trigger, you can’t hesitate. Don’t think about what you’re doing in that moment. Just do it. All of the bad feelings can wait until later. Got me?” He gave a sharp look to each of them in turn.

  “I won’t have any problem shooting them,” Justine muttered, staring straight down at her own feet. “I want to shoot them.”

  “Good,” Horace replied. “But make sure you wait until you’ve got a clear shot. Try to make every bullet count, because you never know how many shots you’re going to get.”

  Justine nodded. “I understand.”

  In the end, Tabitha and Marion sat on the porch. It was important that they not look suspicious or ready for trouble, so they set a pitcher of tea and a couple of glasses on the small table between them. Tabitha had the Winchester propped against the handrail nearby, and Marion had Tuck’s old Walther PPK pistol in her jacket pocket. Darryl took up position as the welcome wagon by the front gate, which was wide open, ready to receive their guests. Justine and Horace were in hiding. The mayor couldn’t know that Justine was alive, much less hiding out on the Healy ranch, and Horace was their ace up the sleeve.

  And what if Filmore doesn’t show up? Tabitha thought, as she rocked in her rocking chair. What if he’s not dumb enough to fall for my little ploy?

  She was right in the middle of these thoughts when they appeared in the distance. Mayor Filmore in his tacky sweater appeared on the driveway with armed guards on either side of him and Pam Grasier, walking behind him. There were four guards, each with rifles, the cop had a shotgun, and they were holding them in such a way that the weapons were immediately visible from a distance. Everything inside of Tabitha screamed at her to get up, grab the Winchester, and open fire, but she forced herself to remain seated. She needed them inside the fence first.

  “This is it,” Tabitha said, glancing at Marion. “Let’s all play nice until we’re ready to start shooting.”

  “Ugh,” Marion replied. “I’m just trying not to throw up.”

  As the mayor and his entourage approached, Darryl stepped through the open gate and raised a hand in greeting. The mayor returned the gesture—a good sign. However, watching him approach, Tabitha felt the anxiety building within her until her whole body shook with it.

  Play the part until the gate is shut and Darryl is out of the way, she told herself, trying to suppress the fear. Then get it over with as fast as you can.

  They were lucky he’d only brought four guards and one cop. He could have brought the whole town.

  “Hey there,” Darryl said, as the mayor drew near. He did a good job of sounding slightly annoyed to see the man. If he’d been too friendly, the mayor would have known something was wrong. The two had a troubled history, after all. “Come on in. Grandma’s right over there.”

  “Looks like we’re doing business again, son,” the mayor said, clapping Darryl on the shoulder. “Who would have imagined it, right? But let’s be friends, because we’re about to be neighbors.”

  Darryl ducked his head and said nothing to this. A good choice, a believable reaction, Tabitha thought. As Pam Grasier brought up the rear, looking back and forth, Darryl pushed the gate shut behind her. The mayor seemed to react negatively to this, frowning and turning, so Tabitha quickly rose and headed toward the steps.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

  Instead of responding to her, however, the mayor gestured at Pam. “Wait outside the gate.”

  She nodded and turned, brushing Darryl aside before he could set the bar. Pulling the gate open, she slipped through the gap. Darryl quickly shut the gate again behind her and set the bar in place. Only then did the mayor turn and give Tabitha his big slimy politician’s smile.

  “It’s just the three of you, right?” he said.

  “Of course,” Tabitha replied. “Who else would be here? None of my workers ever showed up after the power went out. I have no idea what happened to them.”

  “And Tuck is still out in the woods on his hunting trip?” he asked.

  “That’s right,” she said.

  When she reac
hed the bottom step, she stopped, reaching out to rest her hand on the nearby post and hoping like heck that it wasn’t visibly trembling. The mayor came toward her, flanked by his guards, as Darryl eased backward in the opposite direction.

  “Well, Tabitha, I’m glad you came to your senses about all of this,” the mayor said. “Why don’t you show me the herd? I don’t need a full tour of the ranch. My people can assess what you’ve got. We’ll log it all and add it to the city registry. Believe me, this is the right approach.”

  Just then, the first shot rang out. Tabitha saw the flash high up in a tree at the far corner of the fence. Darryl had built a simple platform about halfway up. It was mostly hidden by the leaves, but Tabitha could see a shoulder and the rounded edge of a gray hood.

  It was a dead shot, exploding out of the front of the guard’s coat, casting out a cloud of white stuffing. He managed a single brief cry, but all the strength seemed to leave his body instantly. He collapsed straight down, legs folding beneath him, as he landed in a heap on the dirt. Immediately, like startled kittens, the guards scattered in all directions. The mayor gave Tabitha a hateful look over his shoulder as he rushed after them.

  A second shot rang out then. It came from the direction of the barn. The door there was slightly ajar, but inside the building was only darkness. Horace Bouchard was well hidden. A second guard grabbed his face, blood spurting through his fingers as he stumbled to a stop, dropped his shotgun, then fell forward onto the driveway.

  “This is it, Marion,” Tabitha said, rushing back across the porch to grab the Winchester. “We can’t let him get out of here alive.”

  She picked up the rifle, raised it, and turned back around. She heard a third shot coming from the tree, but it only kicked up some gravel as it pinged off the driveway. Filmore and his remaining guards disappeared behind the small storage shed between the house and barn. Tabitha fired at the shed, hitting the side and punching a hole through the corrugated aluminum.

  As she did, she saw the barrel of a gun poke around the side of the shed. She just had time to stumble backward out of sight before the guard opened fire. He sent three shots toward the porch. Two of them missed completely, but the third smashed through the handrail and cast splinters across the porch. Marion dragged her chair around in front of her as cover.

  “I knew it,” Filmore shrieked from behind the shed. “I knew you were up to something! I’m going to kill your whole family, Tabitha Healy. Do you hear me?”

  She looked for Darryl and spotted him running along the fence toward the distant tree. As he did, another series of shots rang out, and she saw puffs of dust and wood as they hit the fence just behind him. Darryl cast himself onto the ground, but he had no cover. He was supposed to run for the tree, but he’d lingered too long by the gate.

  Tabitha stepped out from behind the house, but the other gun was still pointed at her. She saw a guard peeking around the edge of the shed. As soon as she appeared, he took a shot. She slipped back out of sight, but she felt the bullet whizz past her, felt the heat on her face and heard the high-pitched sizzle as it cut through the air.

  Too close, she thought.

  “You guards,” Tabitha shouted. “How can you work for this man? Don’t you see what kind of person he is? Don’t you realize he’s a lunatic?”

  “Yeah, but he’s a lunatic with food,” one of the guards replied.

  Darryl was crawling toward the tree. As he did, Justine took a few shots from the platform toward the shed. Tabitha saw the flash of her rifle through the leaves. The guards returned fire, but then shots began coming at them from the barn, each one punching through the shed.

  “Give up or you’re all dead,” the mayor shouted.

  “I don’t think you’re the one to demand surrender here, Leo,” Tabitha replied. It did cross her mind then that Pam Grasier was on the other side of the fence. She hadn’t returned fire yet. What was she doing? “We’ve got you surrounded!”

  “Except I came prepared,” the mayor replied, shouting so loudly that his voice cracked. “I knew you might double-cross me. I didn’t suddenly forget what kind of woman you are just because you dumped some ribs on my desk. I placed a sniper in the woods. You’re not getting out of this alive unless you surrender!”

  “I don’t believe you,” Tabitha replied. “A sniper couldn’t see over the fence.”

  “He can if he’s up in a tall tree,” he replied. “Get ready. This is the moment you die!”

  34

  Greg had run out of breath hours ago, but somehow, he still managed to keep moving. Though the darkness wanted to creep in, he was still awake, gasping desperately for air, his clothes filled with sweat like an unsqueezed sponge. Emma was on his back now, her arms draped over his shoulder, like a makeshift piggyback ride, but there was no strength in her grip. He had to hold on to her arms as he ran to keep her from sliding off. He heard her pained breathing in his ear.

  At some point, his run became a jog, and then it just became trudging, dragging his legs through the high grass as he forced himself to keep moving forward, following the course of the small, meandering creek.

  “Emma, are you still awake, baby?” he said, between gasps for breath. “Talk to me, honey. How are you doing?”

  “I’m…okay, Daddy,” she slurred in response. “My leg really, really hurts, though.”

  “Do you need to stop and rest for a little bit?” he asked. The rifle was tucked awkwardly under his arm, and he kept almost dropping it.

  “No, I don’t want to stop,” she said. “I just want to go home.”

  “I’m trying to get us there,” he said. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  Finally, he spotted a paved road in the distance, cutting through the field like a scar. In a fenced pasture alongside the road, a single horse was grazing, but Greg saw reins hanging down. As he got closer, he realized the horse was saddled—perhaps someone had been riding it. A few large trees grew along the edges of the pasture, but otherwise, it was all open ground, and Greg didn’t see any other people.

  He stumbled to a stop. As soon as he gave in to the exhaustion, his whole body hit a wall, and he was forced to lower himself to the ground. He set Emma on her back in the grass, checking her leg to make sure the bandage was still in place. It was soaked with blood, but the blood had mostly dried by now.

  “Why did we stop here?” Emma asked, looking at him through half-lidded, sleepy eyes. “We’re not home yet, are we?”

  “No, but I think I found us a ride,” Greg said. “I just need to check and make sure it’s available. Wait here. I’ll be right back. Don’t move, okay?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said with a sigh.

  He pulled her hood up and adjusted her toque, folded her hands on her belly, and made sure she was as comfortable as possible. Then he rose and crept toward the fence. There was a house off in the distance, near the far side of the pasture, but he didn’t see any other people. There was no sign of the rider. The horse was just standing there and grazing as if it hadn’t a care in the world. Climbing the fence, Greg began to speak gently to the animal.

  “Hey there, girl,” he said, holding out a hand. “How are you doing, girl? Are you over here all by yourself? Is everything okay over here?”

  The horse looked at him briefly then resumed grazing. The ground along the fence was rocky, and a particularly large rock poked up from the ground just to the horse’s right flank. As Greg circled around in front of the animal, he spotted a pair of booted feet sticking out from behind the rock. Then he saw the legs, the torso, the entire body. The man might’ve been in his late thirties or early forties. He was paunchy, dressed like a cowhand, with leather chaps, a dark brown cowboy hat, and a leather vest.

  “Sir, are you hurt?” Greg asked.

  He saw blood on the rocks, blood on the side of the man’s head, and a very large, dark puddle on the dusty ground in between. The horse didn’t seem bothered by Greg’s presence and tolerated him as he knelt beside the
rider.

  “Sir?” he asked again.

  He pressed two fingers against the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. He was dead. Indeed, his skin had already turned the ugly sallow color of corpse flesh. Greg tipped the hat back to uncover the man’s face and realized that his eyes were open but unfocused. He had traces of blood and foam around his mouth.

  “What did you do?” Greg asked the horse. “Did you throw him? Did he try to get you to jump the fence? That was not a nice thing to do, girl.”

  Greg searched the man and found a .38 Magnum in a holster on his right hip. Looking around to make sure no one was nearby, he drew the gun from the holster, checked to make sure it was loaded, then tucked it into his jacket pocket with John’s pistol. As he was doing that, he heard strange breathing right at his ear. He turned to find that the horse had come up behind him, still chewing grass. She seemed docile and friendly. Maybe she’d been out there in the pasture for a while, waiting for her rider to wake up.

  “Hey there, you poor thing,” he said. With one hand, he grabbed the reins. With the other, he gently stroked her neck. “How long have you been standing out here all alone?”

  He rose and led the horse back across the pasture. She came willingly. Actually, she seemed rather content to finally have a person with her again. As he approached the fence, he realized Emma was sitting up in the grass and staring at the horse.

  “Oh my gosh,” she cried. “What a beautiful roan mare. Dad, that’s a red roan. I recognize the color of its coat. She was probably a really expensive horse.”

  “Well, she was all alone out there,” Greg said. “Looks like her rider got thrown. Sorry there’s not a carriage to ride in. I hope you’re okay in the saddle.”