What's Left of My World (Book 2): This We Will Defend

by C. A. Rudolph

  Christian paused for a moment but continued. “She thinks differently. She’s strong, confident, and agile—it’s like she’s had some sort of tactical training of some kind. She’s definitely not an average teenager. She’s a fighter, Michelle, and I’m just going to put it out there—I think maybe you shouldn’t worry so much about her.”

  “I know she’s a fighter, Christian,” Michelle hissed. “My checkbook paid for her Kempo classes.”

  “That might be part of it—but not all of it.”

  “I know my daughter.”

  “I’m not saying you don’t,” Christian said. “Please don’t take what I’m saying the wrong way. I’m just trying to offer a different perspective here—you can take it or leave it.”

  Michelle sighed irritably and stirred. “Do you have any children, Christian?”

  Christian shook his head, his eyebrows lowered. “No, ma’am.”

  “So, I take it, then, you know nothing about giving birth or changing diapers. You’ve never had to endure taking care of them when they’re sick, or worrying about their safety. You also wouldn’t know what it’s like to see them scared or hurt and be willing to do anything in the world to take the fear and the pain away.”

  Christian paused before responding. He was ready to answer but decided to just shake his head.

  “I’m going to make this simple for you, then,” Michelle said firmly. “There’s not one damn thing I wouldn’t do for Lauren. Not one single thing. I would fight for her, kill for her…and I would die for her. I’d do it in an instant, without a second thought.” She snapped her fingers. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to love someone that much? Have you ever been willing to die for anyone before?”

  Christian leaned against the handlebars and looked back and forth between Michelle and Grace while giving Michelle’s words a considerable amount of thought. He’d experienced love before, but the kind of love she was talking about was something different—and he had to admit, he hadn’t a clue how it felt. And the more he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

  “No. I guess I don’t,” Christian finally replied.

  “Then you, sir, have no right to tell me that I worry too much about my own daughter.”

  Grace put a hand over her mouth and looked away, feeling just as much in shock of the situation as she felt embarrassed for Christian. Christian’s casual persona had exited stage right for the moment. He knew that he’d crossed the line, but in recompense, Michelle’s words had caused him to think about something he’d never thought much about before.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, the gut-check moment beginning to weigh on him. “I didn’t mean to insert my opinion where it wasn’t welcome.”

  Michelle smiled and relaxed her posture. “It’s okay,” she said, and started the engine on her ATV. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Michelle pulled away and Christian turned his machine around to follow. As they came to the end of the driveway and turned left onto Trout Run Road, Grace turned around and smiled uncomfortably at Christian, expressing her concern for what had happened. In a show of his appreciation, he winked at her.

  When they reached the barricade at Wolf Gap where Michael Perry’s D9T bulldozer had been used to block the road, two figures emerged from a hidden location in the woods above and descended the embankment to the road. Both carried rifles, wore load-bearing chest rigs with extra magazines, and were covered from head to toe in camouflage fatigues. One was wearing a well-put-together ghillie suit, and both had their faces painted with green and black stripes.

  “You two look ridiculous,” Grace said with a chuckle.

  Chad Mason shot a goofy grin at his brother, Mark, who pulled the hood of the ghillie suit back to expose his face. “Yeah—maybe a little,” Chad said.

  “Ridiculous was yesterday’s theme,” Mark joked. “Today, it’s ‘ready for war’.”

  “Well, you look it,” said Grace.

  “Have Lauren and your sister been by yet?” asked Michelle.

  The brothers displayed looks of concern as they eyeballed each other momentarily and then faced Michelle.

  “We haven’t seen them,” Chad said. “Were they supposed to be headed this way?”

  Michelle’s hand fell from the handlebars as her heart sank. “Dammit,” she muttered.

  “What’s going on?” Mark asked, his voice emanating concern for his sister. “Are they missing or something?”

  Grace put her hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “No…not missing,” she said. “They’re patrolling today. They probably just went the other way.”

  Mark and Chad both nodded, but still looked concerned.

  “How long have they been out?” Chad asked. “It doesn’t take that long to drive through the valley.”

  “We don’t know exactly,” Christian said. “They left earlier this morning.”

  “Have you tried them on the radio?” asked Mark. “If I know Dad, there’s no way in hell he’d let Meg go anywhere without one.”

  Michelle’s anxiety was overflowing, but she managed to make a call over her radio. Getting no response from Megan or Lauren after several tries, Peter was the first to respond. He told Michelle that he’d seen the girls ride back and forth past his home earlier when they were outside visiting with the Perrys. The next person to respond was Fred, and he wasn’t pleased. He began calling for his daughter over the radio frantically.

  “This isn’t good,” Mark said while shaking his head and cradling his rifle.

  “Dude, Megan is always doing stupid shit,” Chad added.

  “Dad will let us know if somethings up,” Mark said assuredly. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to go looking for Megan.” He looked to Grace while pulling the hood of his suit over his head. “Will you guys let us know if you need us?”

  “We will,” answered Grace.

  Chad and Mark ascended the hill and disappeared back into their hide a few moments later. Michelle began to breathe heavily, as if experiencing a mild panic attack. Grace looked to Christian, and at that point, he knew that it was his turn to say something.

  “I think I know where they went,” he said.

  Chapter 11

  Devil’s Hole Mountain

  George Washington National Forest

  Hardy County, West Virginia

  Saturday, October 16th (Present day)

  Although stunned and in a moderate amount of pain, an agitated, wide-eyed Lauren Russell began checking her body for injuries. She held up both hands in front of her face and wiggled her fingers. All okay. She then moved each leg, one at a time, both responding appropriately. Her eyesight was fine, possibly even more acute than normal, and she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was beginning to feel a slight headache coming on, most likely due to her head hitting something after being ejected. Other than a few new scratches, she appeared to be okay. And she couldn’t detect any pain in her ankle.

  Her self-diagnostic complete, Lauren assessed her surroundings. Her rifle was nowhere in sight and neither was her backpack. She glanced up at the Polaris and noticed that Megan had managed to pull herself out of her seat and was now crawling over the body of the vehicle. She soon fell to the ground and pulled herself into a seated position with her back leaning against the mud-covered chassis.

  Lauren got on her knees and reached for her sidearm, which thankfully was still there, locked safely in its retention holster. She unholstered it and began a low crawl to where Megan was now sitting. Megan had already unholstered her Sig and had it pulled close to her chest. She was shaking fiercely, obviously very much in shock. When she saw Lauren nearing her, she waved her hand frantically for her to hurry. Cursing, laughter, and even an occasional wolf whistle could be heard from the road not far away. Lauren rushed to where Megan was sitting, and then started scanning the underbrush for signs of her gear.

  “They’re coming,” Megan moaned, her voice almost in vibrato. Her body was shaking and she appeared fully
immersed in a full-on mortal terror.

  “I know they are. We need to be ready,” Lauren said while she press-checked her Glock. “So listen—calm yourself down, and get your mind right. We’re going to have to shoot our way out of this.”

  “Okay,” Megan uttered, sounding unsure.

  “Meg? I’m serious.”

  Megan nodded her head rapidly.

  Taking a chance on being spotted, Lauren peered just to the left of the Polaris and saw a group of four men. They were standing in the middle of the road near their truck and hadn’t yet started to investigate the crash. One man had her backpack slung over his shoulder and was smiling devilishly. Another—to her utter disbelief, was holding her rifle in his hands.

  “Dammit,” she whispered angrily through her teeth. “One of them has my rifle.”

  Megan couldn’t speak. She was holding onto her Sig so strongly that her hands had turned white.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” a man shouted.

  “Damn…that looked like it may have hurt a little bit! Did it hurt?” another one said in a tantalizing voice. A burst of laughter followed.

  Fear began to overtake both girls, but Lauren’s fear was manageable. She remembered the last time she’d allowed herself to succumb to fear and panic. Christian had saved her that day, and for that she had been truly lucky. Today, though, no one else was here. She was going to have to save herself today. And if Megan didn’t snap out of it, she was going to have to save Megan, too.

  Lauren reached urgently for her friend and went face-to-face with her. “Megan, look at me…and listen. We have to shoot our way out of this,” she said gravely. “And I need your help. Okay?”

  “I’m not sure if I can—”

  Lauren shook her. “Do you want to die?”

  “No…” She trailed off while shaking her head.

  “Then we have to hit them. And we have to hit them hard,” Lauren said. “Do you have extra magazines for that Sig?”

  The intense shaking in Megan’s body subsided slightly as she fought to gather herself. She reached down to a hip pocket in her tactical pants on her weak side and produced two 9mm magazines, both loaded with hollow-point ammunition. “I have more in my pack,” she said.

  “Oh, girrrls! Are you gonna come out and play, or do we gotta come in and get you? We have your stuff over here,” a man’s voice echoed from the road. Laughter followed. “If you want it back…just come over here and get it. We promise we won’t bite.”

  Lauren verified that both of her spare magazines were still on her belt. “This is what we’re going to do,” Lauren began as Megan listened. “When we start shooting, they’re going to shoot back. The Polaris is our only cover, and the engine block is the best ballistic protection for us. We’re going to shoot at them from behind the Polaris to keep from getting hit, okay?” She paused when she heard the men begin laughing together again. “I’m left-handed, so I’ll go left. You’ll shoot from the other side. We’re going to take turns leaning out—but only lean out enough to acquire a target. We need to keep our bodies behind the Polaris. So shoot with one hand so that you can keep as much of your body as you can behind cover. Okay? You got it?”

  Megan nodded. “Okay…but when do we start shooting?”

  “We need to wait and bring them in closer,” Lauren said. “Then we unload on them. I’ll shoot first. As soon as I go to reload, you lean out and start shooting. Then when you go empty, I’ll come back into the fight. Between the two of us, we have just over ninety rounds of ammunition. We should be able to take them.”

  Megan nodded again. She was slowly coming back to reality.

  Lauren ogled her friend. “You can do this, Meg.”

  “Fuck this! Let’s go get ’em,” a man hollered.

  “Ready or not, here we come!” another man taunted.

  Lauren scooted over to the edge of the rear bumper of the Polaris and presented her Glock in one hand, pulling her other hand close to her chest and near her shoulder in an ‘injured hand’ position. Megan watched her and closely emulated her with opposite hands. They took a glance at each other.

  “Meg—don’t stop shooting until they’re all dead,” Lauren said with a tone of finality. She wondered briefly from what depths inside her had she managed to find this sudden burst of courage. She didn’t know, but she was glad it was here, now. Then she heard a familiar deep, raspy voice speak to her subconsciously.

  We must be willing to do what our enemy is not, Janey. We must dominate them from every angle…using everything we have at our disposal. We have to use violence of action and eliminate the threat aggressively at all costs.

  That was it. Violence of action. It meant being totally unrestricted and committed to doing whatever was necessary to achieve total dominance against an enemy.

  Lauren recalled the visits she’d made to Point Blank training center and all the skills she’d learned—even in such a brief amount of time. Dave Graham was an amazing teacher. He’d always applied the techniques defined by violence of action as a foundation for most of her training. Lauren was glad she’d had the opportunity to meet him and learn what she had from him. It just might save her and her friend’s life today.

  Lauren heard a twig snap near the Polaris, leaned outward, and acquired her target. A tall man, wearing what appeared to be old tattered khakis and a flannel shirt, was the first one who came into view. He didn’t have a weapon, but under the circumstances, it didn’t matter. Lauren lined up her sights and began unloading round after round of .40-caliber hollow points into his torso. The man fell into a heap, exposing another man who stood just behind him. Lauren kept firing, hitting the second man in the legs and in the abdomen, and then the slide on her Glock locked back. She had emptied her first magazine. With no time to waste, she moved back behind cover and performed a tactical reload.

  Seeing that Lauren was reloading, Megan leaned outward from the right side of the Polaris just as two rifles began to thunder rapidly in response. Bullets started whizzing by, occasionally hitting the chassis. Some of the rounds were able to penetrate it. She panicked at first, but then began to fire wildly, emptying her magazine in a matter of seconds. She turned to Lauren, who had just placed her second magazine into her Glock and released the slide and was preparing to fire again.

  “I don’t know if I hit anything,” Megan admitted.

  “Reload!” Lauren yelled.

  Megan reached down on the ground and went to reload her pistol as Lauren leaned out and began to fire again. The man she’d shot mostly in the legs had begun to call for his buddies and Lauren silenced him, her first few shots hitting him in the back near his spine. She then began looking for the others, all of whom had now disappeared from her view. She held fire. Megan looked over at her after seating a fresh magazine into her Sig and chambering a round.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t see anyone,” said Lauren. “They must be hiding behind the truck.”

  A shot whizzed by Lauren’s head and smacked the tree behind her, to which her reaction was to immediately duck behind the UTV.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” the gruff voice said.

  “I seeeee youuuu!” another voice shouted from the road. “Why don’t you just come out and make this easy on everyone?”

  “Fuck you!” Megan shrieked, now fully involved in the fight. The look of panic had left her. She was still preoccupied, but had managed to collect herself.

  “That’s the idea,” the gruff voice said sadistically.

  Lauren began to lean over again to see if she could see the remaining men, but was immediately met with a barrage of fire, most likely coming from her own rifle. “Shit!” Lauren exclaimed, now completely disgusted with her situation. As she looked down, she noticed an olive-green buttstock protruding from the ground. It could only be Megan’s AR-15, and it wasn’t far away from her.

  “What the hell do we do now?” Megan asked, exasperated.

  Lauren tapped Megan on the s
houlder and pointed at the rifle buttstock.

  “Holy shit…that’s my rifle. Can you reach it?” Megan asked, her face showing a renewed hope.

  “Not without getting my head shot off,” Lauren replied.

  Megan’s eyes widened. “What if I start shooting from my side and draw their fire long enough for you to get it?”

  Lauren turned to her and nodded. “That might work,” she said. She then replaced the magazine in her Glock with a fresh one and handed it to Megan.

  “Use both.”

  Megan nodded, fully understanding the plan. She took Lauren’s handgun into her left hand and moved to the right of the Polaris.

  “Ready?” Megan asked.

  “Ready.”

  Megan stood slightly, with the Sig Sauer in her right hand and Lauren’s Glock in the left. She placed the Sig on the right edge of the Polaris and held the Glock up just over the top. She then began firing, one shot after another, alternating between each pistol. Without hesitation Lauren dove toward the rifle while her friend provided cover fire, and quickly made her way back with Megan’s Colt AR-15 safely in her possession.

  “Nice job,” Lauren praised as Megan ceased fire and fell back to a seated position. Lauren popped the forty-round Magpul magazine from the rifle and noticed the green-tipped ammunition.

  “It’s mostly penetrators, but there’s tracers in there too,” Megan said. “It’s Dad’s mixture. It indicates when it’s time to reload before you go empty. The last ten rounds are five and five.”

  “Got it,” Lauren said as she slapped the magazine home and checked the chamber.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Lauren thought for a moment, and then an idea came to her. “You’re going to do exactly what you just did. I’m going to slide over and unload on that truck’s gas tank.”

  Megan’s eyes got wide. “You think that’ll work?”

  “I have no idea,” Lauren said, her head shaking. “There might not be enough gas in the tank to do the trick…but I don’t see any other option.”

  Megan and Lauren both prepared themselves for what could be their final fight as the taunting from their pursuers became even more atrocious.