He sighed. “Okay, but until you find him, you should stay with us.”
She was quiet for seconds, and then a full minute. Finally, he saw something shift in her face. “Okay,” she said.
He sat up straighter, shocked she’d given in. “Really?”
“Yeah… yeah, I think so. I don’t want to be here alone. I’ve been thinking about it a lot today, and I think it’s what my dad would want me to do. He’d want me to stay safe. I’ll leave him a note, letting him know where we’re going so that he can come after me whenever he gets back.”
Malachi couldn’t stop smiling. “Great! Let’s go tell my parents!”
He grabbed her hand and together they headed inside the house. His father was sitting at the dining room table, a map spread out in front of him. He and one of the revivalists were quietly talking, tracing their fingers over the map.
“Dad,” Malachi called out.
His father turned to look at them, his eyes going to their joined hands before looking back at his son’s face. “What is it, Mal?” he asked.
“Savannah will be going with us tomorrow,” he announced, pride and excitement feeling like they’d burst his chest.
His father’s eyes lit up. “Great!” His face turned to Savannah’s, grinning in relief. “I look forward to having you along.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, moving forward to look at the map.
“We’re planning our route home,” he replied.
She stared at the map, and then spoke slowly. “I know this place,” she said, putting her finger on Colorado, near to where Jim Loveridge’s finger had been left pointing.
“You do?” Malachi asked, moving forward.
Her eyes lit up as she turned to him. “Yes! My Uncle Ennis lives in the area, right outside of Denver. It’s on the way to Salt Lake City. I can go there and wait for my dad!”
Malachi couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed to hear she was still looking for a way not to go back to the city with them, but he swallowed down the emotion. “Great!” he said, faking the enthusiasm in his voice. At least she’d still be traveling with them.
Savannah looked happier than she had in days, too, which made him happy. “I should go pack!” she exclaimed, and with that she gripped his hand with a tight squeeze before hurrying away.
He watched her walk out of the house before turning back to his dad, trying to hide the disappointment he felt.
“She loves her family,” his father said quietly.
Malachi nodded. “I know.”
“If it’s meant to be, it will happen. Don’t push these things.”
“Dad, we need to arm ourselves,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.
His father stared back at him a moment, as if processing the jump, but then shook his head. “No. We will not raise arms against anyone. We are all God’s children.”
“It’s dangerous, Dad. You’ve said it time and again. We have to be able to protect ourselves. We can’t carry those shovels and pitchforks five hundred miles,” Malachi argued.
“We will not hurt people!” his father said, standing up to face him.
“Jim, he’s right,” his friend Ken said.
All but holding his breath now that an adult had voiced agreement with him, Malachi waited for his dad to say it was wrong and went against the Ten Commandments. He turned back to look at him, a sadness in his eyes.
To his surprise, he confessed, “You’re right. I saw a gun in the closet of the master bedroom.”
“I’ll get it,” Malachi said, relieved at the idea that he would have a weapon to defend his family and Savannah. He would not ask his father to carry the gun or use it. It would kill his father if he had to take another man’s life. Malachi would carry that burden.
Malachi walked to the back bedroom, opening the closet and rummaging around in the dark until he saw the small wooden box on the floor. He pulled it out and opened it, finding a revolver. It looked to be an old gun, like the kind the cowboys used in the old days. Malachi carefully took it out of the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands. He tried to turn the circular barrel, but had no real idea how to check to see if it was loaded. Carefully, he instead carried the gun out to the dining table, where Ken was still sitting with his father.
“Uh, Ken, do you know how to check and see if there are bullets in here?” he asked, holding the gun at his side, pointed at the ground.
His father looked at the gun, shaking his head before excusing himself. Ken rose and took the gun from Malachi’s hand, holding it in his palm and smiling.
“This is an old gun, a Smith and Wesson Chief Special,” he said with awe as he easily popped open the barrel and showed Malachi. “Empty. We’ll need to see if we can find some rounds. It looks like it’s in good shape, but I’d hate to have this thing misfire and hurt someone.”
“How do we know what kind of bullets it needs?” Malachi asked, completely unfamiliar with firearms.
“This is a .38 special. She packs a punch—assuming we can find something to load her with,” Ken replied, closing the barrel and placing the gun on the table.
Malachi stared at it, wondering if he could use the gun to actually hurt someone. It suddenly felt wrong, as his father had always said it was. Jim Loveridge wasn’t a man who believed in an eye for an eye—he believed in the sacredness of life, God’s greatest gift, and felt that nobody had the right to steal such a life from another man. No matter what.
“Maybe we should leave it,” Malachi said in a low voice. “Dad thinks—”
Ken put a hand on Malachi’s shoulder, cutting him off. “I’ll handle it. You and your dad don’t need to worry about this,” he assured him.
Malachi nodded, not without some relief, and headed out of the house. His earlier conviction to take on the burden for his father was waning. He wasn’t sure he was ready to take on the responsibility that came with being the group’s primary protector, as that gun would assuredly make him.
10
Austin used the crutches to move across the soft earth of the pasture, making his way towards Amanda, who was chatting happily to her horses. The pain was still present in his leg, but it was more of a dull ache now, thanks to the pain meds. It was the cut on his side that had been bothering him more than anything that day. It made it difficult to move on the crutches, stretching and pulling the injured skin.
“What are you doing?” Amanda gasped when she saw him walking towards her.
“I got tired of sitting on that couch,” he answered simply.
He also wanted to prove to her he wasn’t a complete invalid. He needed to show her he could move around without a great deal of pain. It was the only way he was going to convince her he was ready to leave her farm.
“Austin, you can’t overdo it,” she lectured him, one hand still on her horse’s nose.
He ignored her comment, looking at the mare she was petting. There were three other horses happily eating grass a short distance away.
“Can we ride them?” he asked.
“I can ride them fine,” she returned.
He shook his head. “I can’t stay here any longer. I need to get back. I understand you don’t want to go. I’m not asking you to, but I am asking you to let me borrow a horse.”
“I can’t let you go alone, and you know it,” she said, her lips tightening with frustration.
“I don’t know that it’s up to you, and I know for damn sure that you can’t stop me if I want to leave,” he growled.
They had been having the same argument for days. He’d been itching to go while she had been adamant he not leave until he’d healed—or, healed more, at least. The cut on his rib cage had been mildly infected. Making the situation worse, he’d ripped a stitch out yesterday while maneuvering on the crutches, earning him a stern lecture from his pseudo-doctor.
“Amanda, I appreciate all you have done for me, I really do, but I can’t sit here knowing Savannah’s out there on her own. I’m assuming you don’t
have children, all things considered, but if you did, maybe you’d understand what I’m feeling a little better,” he said, trying to be as gentle as possible with the rebuke.
Her eyes narrowed, and her hands dropped to her hips. “No, I don’t have kids, but that doesn’t make me inhuman or unable to understand basic emotions! I understand you want to get to her, Austin, but you’re no good to her dead.”
He glared at her, unwilling to back down. “I’m not being mean. I’m only trying to make you understand how hard this is for me. It’s killing me not being able to be there for her!”
“So, you think killing yourself trying to get there is a better idea?” she replied, eyeing his crutches pointedly.
“I have to try! That’s what parents do! They walk through fire to get to their kids. I’m the only parent she has!” he near-yelled, the frustration of being laid up and essentially useless boiling over as he thought of his lost wife. His daughter only had one parent to depend on, and here he was in the middle of a pasture in the middle of Nowhere, U.S.A, forty miles from his kid.
She stomped a foot, calling his attention back to her. “I’m trying to keep you alive for your daughter!”
“Good. Great. You succeeded, but now I have to get back home,” he said, trying to calm his voice.
Losing their tempers and going in circles was getting them nowhere. In the back of his mind, he knew Amanda had been right to keep him planted on her couch for the first few days. He would have killed himself if it had been left to him. But now…
“You know, if you were such a great father, looking out for his daughter, maybe you shouldn’t have jumped off a bridge!” she snapped.
He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t jump off the bridge.”
“Oh, really, now you’re ready to tell me the story?” she asked.
He wasn’t about to tell her the story. Not yet.
He didn’t know her and didn’t know how much he could trust her. Plus, he certainly didn’t want to put her life in danger. He had no idea if the people who had killed Callum would still be looking for him or not, but the USB driver was in his pocket, still incased in its protective plastic case. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it, but something told him to hold onto it and keep his mouth shut about the damn thing.
“I fell into the water,” he muttered, his eyes going back to the horses. How difficult would it be to get on and off was what worried him more than anything else.
“Whatever. Not only are you in no condition to walk or ride forty miles, but I can’t leave my animals, my house, and all of my supplies untended. Look what happened when you were in the house. If people figure out I’m gone, they’re going to loot my house,” she said.
“They’ve already tried,” he replied dryly.
She rolled her eyes. “Tweakers are nothing new. They’re always around.”
“Then stay. I’m going,” he said firmly.
“You don’t know where you’re going,” she reminded him.
“I’ll find the highway and go from there,” he shot back.
“Have you ever ridden a horse?” she asked, the hand back on her hip and a snide look on her face.
“Yes, Amanda, I’ve ridden a horse. Is that all you needed to hear?”
She smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was cynical and made him a little nervous. “Have you ever ridden bareback? My saddles were in the barn that burned to the ground the night I was fishing you out of the stream.”
“How hard can it be?” he asked.
She threw her head back and laughed, harder than he’d seen her laugh before, her black hair blowing around her. “Oh, piece of cake, that’s why everybody does it!” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
He looked at the horse standing next to her, and then at the others contentedly grazing. “What about that one?” He pointed to a chestnut that looked significantly smaller than the black mare in front of him. And ‘smaller’ meant he’d have an easier time getting up on the creature’s back.
“You want to ride him?”
“Are you saying he’s not a good horse to ride?” he countered.
“I’m saying I ride him all the time, but you, well, you’ll die if you try to climb onto his back.” She grinned. “Plus, he’s too small for you—at your height, you’d only hurt him.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so I’m too tall,” he acknowledged. “You want to tell me why I’d die climbing on his back?”
“Because Johnie’s mean and fast—two things I know you can’t handle.”
Austin glanced back to the harmless-looking horse. “Oh.”
“We can try you with this girl, maybe. Raven is a kind soul. She’ll probably only try and throw you once or twice,” she said with a chuckle, nearly making Austin rethink the whole idea.
He couldn’t let the thought of falling stop him, though. He had to get back to his kid, and the only way that was going to happen was on the back of a horse.
“Okay. How do I get up?”
She shook her head, clearly not happy she hadn’t scared him off. “I’ll take her to the porch. You can stand on the steps to get up. I’m not lifting you.”
“Fine with me,” Austin agreed evenly.
She walked ahead of him as he carefully moved across the wet ground. He didn’t want to risk the crutch slipping and sending him to the ground. Once he made it to the porch, he used the crutches to climb the steps, only a little worried he’d tumble backwards. He’d made progress over the last few days.
“Okay, stand on your good leg, and I’ll try and help you get the broken leg up and over,” she instructed him.
He nodded, looking at the horse and realizing just how stupid and dangerous it was to attempt this with a leg that hadn’t had the chance to heal. And they weren’t even talking about how he’d get on and off without Amanda there to help him. He almost changed his mind, but an image of Savannah scared and alone popped into his mind, giving him the courage he needed to try.
“Here goes nothing,” he breathed, lifting his bum leg up. Amanda held it up while he hugged the horse’s neck and tried to mount the patient mare.
But, almost immediately, he realized it wouldn’t work. The pain in his leg was severe, and getting worse. Then he felt the cut on his side tear and knew there was no way he could even get onto the horse without seriously injuring himself all over again, let alone ride forty miles.
“Give up?” she asked in a soft voice when he stopped actively trying to climb on.
He grunted, willing himself not to fall apart. “Yes.”
She carefully moved his leg away from the horse’s back, and then slapped the horse on the butt and sent it running back out to the pasture.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really am. I want to help you, but you are not well. Please, will you give it a couple more days?”
He nodded through gritted teeth. “Yes.”
“Do you want some pain meds?” she asked.
“Yes,” he breathed out, unable to move from his spot where he leaned on his crutch.
“Give yourself a minute, and then we’ll go inside,” she said, no judgement in her voice.
He felt the heavy weight of defeat weighing him down. At least he’d tried, he told himself. He just wasn’t ready to make the journey. Savannah was going to have to hold on a little longer. He closed his eyes, silently willing her all the strength he could muster.
“Hang tight, baby girl. I’m coming,” he whispered.
11
Ben punched in the four-digit code before pushing the heavy steel door open. He dreaded giving the report, knowing he was going to be in trouble. Failure wasn’t something that was tolerated. He steeled himself to be berated and possibly even killed for failing to complete his mission—there was no point in running, as he knew that would only make it worse. One never knew what to expect with the people he was working with. It was a risk he had willingly taken when he’d signed on. There were always going to be those people in the world w
ho rose above, and that’s what he’d wanted for himself. He had situated himself with a group that was one day going to rule the world. He wanted a front row seat and was willing to do whatever it took to secure it. He’d already done unspeakable things to insert himself into the group. It couldn’t all be for naught.
He followed the dimly lit hall to its end, his booted feet scraping along the metal floor as he moved. He peered through the small glass window in the door. All five of the top commanders were sitting at a table, a series of maps spread out in front of them. They looked to be in a heated discussion. When he’d returned from his failed mission, he’d been informed that they wanted to see him.
Taking a deep breath, Ben knocked once and then opened the door.
All eyes were on him, making the news he had to deliver that much harder to say. The men at the table were ruthless, some of the scariest individuals he had ever encountered in his life, and he’d done time in a maximum-security prison. The murderers and rapists he’d met there had nothing on the men currently staring him down.
“What’d you find?” the man sitting at the head of the table asked in a gruff voice. His gray beard and beady eyes gave him the appearance of an evil wizard.
“I couldn’t find the drive,” Ben admitted, meeting the steely brown eyes.
“You searched the body?”
“Thoroughly. Searched his pockets, stripped him down and all. He didn’t have it.”
“What about the other guy? Who is he?”
Ben cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “We know he’s a journalist, Austin Merryman. He used to be one of those hotshot reporters writing whistleblower stories. Callum’s phone records showed he called the guy several times. I hacked his phone and read the messages between them. He never revealed what he had, only that he wanted to meet.”
“And? Who is this Merryman guy now if he’s no longer a hotshot reporter?”
“He’s a single father traveling with his teenage daughter. His wife died a year ago. He’s been writing stories about people living alternative lifestyles. It’s a lot of fluff. I don’t think he’s a threat,” Ben insisted, hoping to allay the fears of the bosses.
Survive the Chaos (Small Town EMP Book 1) Page 9
