by Rusty Ellis
“It’s me, Haley,” Chase responded.
A smile coursed across her face as she teared up and ran to him. He opened his arms and pulled her into his chest. She sobbed and buried her face into his neck. The other girls stood confused, their sister hugging a security guard in the Garden—Adam’s Garden.
Chase whispered in her ear, “It’s, okay.”
Haley kept her face buried in his collar and said, “Why are you here?”
Chase pushed her back to make eye contact, “To find you.”
“Find me?” she asked.
Chase didn’t have time for a long, drawn-out conversation. He needed to get Haley off-site and to safety. They could discuss the ins-and-outs of living at the HLC later, for now they needed to move. Chase gritted his teeth, preparing himself for whatever came next—her leaving with him, by his side, or over his shoulder.
“Your mom is waiting for us,” he said.
“Mom? Where?”
“Not far. Listen, I need you to trust me and go with me now,” Chase took her hand and headed for the door.
Haley fell in behind him. Chase took advantage of her confusion and led the way, pulling her toward the door as the rest of the girls watched, like statues, quiet and frozen.
Reaching the front door, Chase squeezed Haley’s hand tighter, ready to bolt down the steps and north to safety. He sucked in a deep breath and yanked the handle open.
“Haley!” a voice shouted behind them.
Chase leaned forward to sprint with Haley in tow but felt her pull back against his grip. He turned to see her staring backward at someone. He glanced around her and saw Adam, standing in the doorway to the bedroom, a look of horror on his face as he stared at Haley.
“Haley,” Adam repeated, a look of shock on his face.
She tried to let go of Chase’s grip as she turned to face Adam.
“Where are you going, child?” Adam asked.
She took a step toward Adam and stammered, “… I… was…”
Chase released his grip on Haley’s hand and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from taking another step toward Adam.
“Haley, we need to go,” Chase tugged at her wrist.
“Why would you leave me, my child? Have I wronged you in any way?” Adam asked.
Haley shook her head, mesmerized by Adam’s voice and questions.
“If you return to the world, your old life, its vices and unrepentant grip on your soul,” Adam took a step closer and raised his arm as he continued, “you will never return to us. You will never return to your sisters. You can never return to me.”
Chase held tight to Haley’s wrist and could feel a shiver run through her body. Chase jerked her wrist, an attempt to break the spell Adam was casting on her. She turned to look at Chase, a twisted look of confusion consumed her face, her eyes darting back and forth as if searching for an answer in the space between her and Chase, and her and Adam.
“We need to go,” Chase said with more resolve and pulled on her wrist toward the open door.
“I don’t know…”
Viktor reached the front of the cabin and saw the front door was open wide. He could see the back of one of his security guards in the doorway. He’d told Martin and Thomas to standby in their current positions. James would be posted up at the very back corner of the property, like a goalie, waiting for the ball—or in this case Harper—to try to cross the goal line.
The man turned sideways. He had a girl’s wrist in his hand.
Harper.
Viktor spoke evenly into his mic as he stared at the doorway, “Harper’s at the front door to the Garden. Converge on the front, repeat, converge on the front of the Garden.”
He watched as Harper pulled at the girl’s wrist, focused on a distraction beyond the girl inside the Garden. Viktor raised his M400, squaring the front sight on the center mass of Harper’s body.
The girl reluctantly followed Harper, not fully following, not firmly holding her ground either, inching out of the Garden and onto the porch.
“Harper,” Viktor called out.
Martin and Thomas appeared from the woods on opposite sides of the Garden, triangulated, perfect position on the front door and Harper’s position.
Harper turned and faced Viktor, his hand still tightly gripped around the girl’s wrist.
“Let her go and step away from the door,” Viktor commanded.
Harper paused. Viktor could see his eyes dart from one M400 to the next, calculating, weighing his next move, the same as Viktor would do in the same position. A predictable military response, weighing his options and the likely outcomes. Calculating his actions against the gain and possible loss.
Viktor smiled and moved his index finger from alongside the trigger guard and stroked the tip against the trigger.
63
Three assault rifles were pointed directly at him, with Haley directly in the crossfire. Chase couldn’t leave Haley and face her mother. But the decision was bigger than that. Bigger than living at the HLC. Bigger than the Garden and Adam. Bigger than facing Megan. They punctuated his decision with three assault rifles. Popov, Martin and Thomas. Three men. Two opposites and a variable.
Popov had already proved his willingness to find any excuse to take a life, whether a viable threat or a mere inconvenience.
Martin was a soldier, Popov’s opposite. He followed orders. But Popov was his employer, not his commanding officer. Right was right. Martin wouldn’t shoot him, if it came to that, at least chase was 98% sure of that.
Thomas was the variable. Chase didn’t know the man, hadn’t worked with him, only knew he—like the others—was a military man. Chase was unsure if he was Popov-military or Martin-military.
“Let her go and step away from the door,” Viktor barked.
“What’s happening, Uncle Chase?” Haley asked and stared at the weapons pointed at them.
Chase decided to take a chance, go on the offensive—mental warfare.
“You see that man, the one telling me to let you go?” Chase slowly raised his arm and pointed at Popov.
Haley nodded and looked down at Popov.
“He shot and killed a good friend of mine last night. An elderly man who was helping me rescue your mother from this place,” Chase said.
“He killed someone last night? Here? Wait, my mom was here?” Haley’s voice cracked.
“She came here to find you and bring you home,” Chase said and waited for the realization to take hold of Haley. “She was in Adam’s room last night, that’s as close as she could get. I came to get her out and that guy right there shot and killed my friend because of it.”
Chase waited for Viktor’s response, some type of a rebuttal. Viktor said nothing.
Chase turned toward Martin, “Did you know that, Martin? Did Popov mention that he killed the old man last night? Shot him twice in the chest just on the other side of the HLC border?”
Martin kept his gun trained on Chase but turned to look at Popov. The response Chase was hoping for. Doubt. The difference between an employer and a commanding officer. Popov was his employer.
Chase looked back to Popov and could see the man grinning behind his weapon. A look of confidence as he stayed focus on Chase, not splitting his attention or concern for his own men’s allegiance.
“Is it my turn now?” Chase asked. “Or is it too light outside? Too many witnesses, maybe?”
“The decision is yours, Harper. Step away from the girl and nothing will happen. You can leave the way you came. Second option is to leave horizontal, in the light, with witnesses.”
“Why don’t you tell all of us why I can’t leave with my niece? To take her home?” Chase said. He looked at Martin, “You’re pointing an assault rifle at me to stop me from taking my niece home. Does that sound right, Martin? Is that what you signed up for?”
A movement from the right side of the cabin caught all four of their attention. James appeared with his rifle pointing toward Chase. He took up a position mid-way between
Martin and Popov.
Chase continued speaking, directing his comments to Martin and Thomas, “Did you know someone was with Popov when he shot and killed my friend Henry? I’m guessing it was James.” Chase turned and locked eyes with James, “Was it you James? Did you stand by and watch as Popov shot and killed the old man?”
Chase could see James squint behind his rifle, the information of the old man dying hitting home.
“It was you, James. You didn’t know the old man died, did you?” Chase asked.
Chase looked to see Martin’s eyes dart between Popov and James, a mental ping-pong match as he tried to sort out the details.
“Popov shot him twice in the chest. I packed his chest wound with my t-shirt and carried him back to his house. You both know the one, the house in the clearing just on the other side of the border. He died on his living room floor,” Chase let the visual sink in.
No response from the four men.
“Do you know why he died?” Chase asked.
Popov quickly chimed in, “He pointed a weapon at me and I shot first.”
The sound of Popov’s voice and excuse sent a surge through Chase’s chest. The weak attempt at an excuse for killing Henry flushed his body with rage.
“The old man raised his worn-out saddle rifle in your direction, at night time, unsure of where you were, and you double-tapped him in the chest with an assault rifle. You killed him,” Chase tried to keep his voice measured. “You’re a coward, Popov.”
“One more time, Harper. Let her go and leave upright, your choice,” Popov said.
Chase glared at Popov then turned to James and Martin.
“I served my country overseas. I fought and watched my friends die. Beside them and for them. For our values. For our beliefs. For our families and our way of life back home, our freedom,” Chase said. “I was one of the fortunate ones, I lived. I came home to my family and those I fought for. And now I’m standing here with four assault rifles pointed at me and my niece. Our crime? Wanting to take her home. Wanting to take her back to her mother.”
Chase watched as the tip of Martin’s rifle dipped a few inches toward the ground.
“Is that true?” Martin looked at James. “Did you kill that old man?”
“I didn’t… we didn’t… he was…,” James stuttered.
Martin yelled, “Did you kill that old man or not!”
James glanced at Martin. The accusation hit home. He couldn’t hide and point at Popov. In the court systems, he would be an accomplice. He wasn’t in the military anymore. Popov was his employer. Henry was dead. Shot by Popov. James was now an accomplice.
Chase could feel Martin’s resolve shift, his allegiance being battered by the facts, the tide crashing against the moral shore. Chase decided to make his last move.
“I’m leaving here with my niece,” Chase looked at Martin and James. “If you kill me, that’s on you. You live with it. You know all those horrible dreams that followed you home from overseas? Those dreams started a long ways away from here. The dreams that will follow you from today are happening on our soil. They don’t have to travel as far to haunt you. And believe me, you won’t escape them through therapy, or popping pills, or doing shots at the bar.”
Chase switched his grip from Haley’s wrist to her hand. He looked deep into her eyes and smiled. She smiled back. He took a breath and stepped toward the porch stairs.
Popov matched his step and crept forward, his weapon still trained on Chase’s chest.
“Don’t,” Martin said and pointed his rifle at Popov. “He’s leaving. Lower your weapon.”
Popov glanced at Martin and back to Chase.
“Lower your weapon,” James joined and pointed his weapon at Popov.
Popov glared at Chase and slowly lowered his weapon back against his chest, the barrel facing limp toward the ground.
Chase looked at Thomas. The dynamic between the other three men overshadowed Thomas, making him a non-issue, though the rifle in his hand pointing at Chase kept him in play. Thomas peered down the sites of his rifle and raised it to just above Chases shoulder, still pointed toward the cabin.
“Back up,” he ordered, looking beyond Chase and Haley.
Chase looked back to see Adam standing in the cabin's doorway, frozen in the door’s frame.
“I said, back up, now!” Thomas ordered.
Adam stepped back inside and shut the door. Thomas lowered his weapon against his chest and gave Chase a nod.
Chase continued down the steps with Haley squeezing his hand. He reached the bottom of the steps and took one last look at Popov.
“This isn’t over,” Popov growled.
Chase looked at James and then Martin, giving each a worthy nod of gratitude. He held tightly onto Haley’s hand and moved quickly into the woods toward the HLC perimeter. He glanced over his shoulder, the tree branches and brush quickly flanking them and obscuring their path from the cabin.
A loud “bap-bap… bap-bap-bap… bap-bap” rang through the trees.
Megan screeched to a stop, “Were those gunshots?”
Chase tugged on her hand, “Hurry up, let’s go!”
64
“Almost there,” Chase called over his shoulder to Haley.
The warmth of the morning sun coursed through his shoulders and upper back, a bead of sweat hung on Chase’s upper lip as Henry’s house came into view.
Chase looked back and could see Haley focusing on keeping up with his aggressive pace, her silence speaking volumes to the information she was processing. Chase only cared about one thing—getting her safely back to Megan.
The confusion at the cabin had played into Chase’s favor. He wanted Haley’s mind to be overwhelmed at the sea of facts he spouted out at the group of armed men. The facts dunking her mind under the waves of information, over and over, not allowing her to take a deep breath. Her struggle aided in him being able to pull her from the dark depths and drag her to shore, toward her mother and safety, or at least as far as possible from imminent danger.
“Mom?” Haley called out and released his hand.
Chase looked up to see Megan bolting down the porch steps and sprinting in their direction. Chase turned in time to see Haley take off and sprint past him, a final burst of energy.
The two met in a tangle of hugs and tears, a symphony of apologies and sobbing. Dust swirled around their feet as neither could hold still, particles of dirt dancing in the sunlight in front of Henry’s house. Henry’s home.
Chase stepped up to Megan and Haley and conceded to a short embrace, more concerned about the situation they’d left at the cabin than making time for a family reunion. He strained to look back the way they’d hiked—the direction of the gunshots. Chase pulled back and looked at both women and allowed for a second to meet their smiles.
“We need to go,” Chase said and pushed them toward the house.
Megan and Haley inched toward the house, unwilling to give up on the reunion.
“Megan, seriously, we need to go now,” Chase said and pushed harder.
Megan met Chase’s gaze and turned toward the house with Haley tucked under her arm, like a mother duck sheltering her duckling from a storm. The two picked up their pace and shuffled toward the house.
Chase reached the top of the stairs and stepped through the front door, his eyes instantly drawn to the crimson stain on the carpet in front of the sofa. He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes, knowing his friend was in the other room, lifeless, Henry’s home now a sarcophagus.
An ache gripped Chase’s chest at the thought of his friend. Time for mourning would come, just not now. He would give in and mourn, not half-heartedly, not in haste, a tribute instead of a spark of sorrow.
For now they needed to hurry. They needed to be clear of the property and driving down the dirt road toward town.
Chase opened his eyes and breathed out. He skirted past his sister and niece, still clutching one another and standing beside the stain on the living room carpet.
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Focus.
Chase moved from the living room into Henry’s room. The thought of leaving his friend unceremoniously lying on his bed felt wrong. His friend’s life deserved more than this. He deserved to have things said about his life. People should share fond memories of a father and a husband, committed to his family, committed to his life and living his way on the outskirts of Crouch. His dedication to his wife, daughters, grandkids, and ultimately his friends.
A loud wham echoed from the living room, the sound of the front door whipping open and striking the wall.
“Harper!” a voice yelled.
Megan’s voice screeched as Haley screamed, “No!”
Chase drew his Glock from the middle of his back and turned toward the door and hallway. Chase wrapped both hands around the gun’s grip and pulled it close to his chest. He leaned toward the doorway and took a quick peek down the empty hallway.
“Harper!” the voice yelled again.
Popov.
“Get out here, Harper!”
Chase bent his knees slightly, lowering his center of gravity, ready to engage his target. He turned the corner from the bedroom into the hall and extended the Glock in front of him, the front sight of his gun searching for the voice. He reached the end of the hall and turned toward the living room and the voice. Megan and Haley came into view first. Both standing, side-by-side, frozen in an embrace, facing Chase, their terror-widened eyes pleading for help.
Chase spotted Popov standing directly behind them, using them as a temporary shield and guarantee of safe passage. Popov sneered at Chase, a mixture of contempt and satisfaction pinching his face.
“Hello, Harper,” Popov said. “We weren’t done with our previous conversation, and then you left.”
Popov’s words hung in the air, a thick cloud of condescension and control. He looked at the gun in Chase’s hand, pointing directly at his head.
“Tsk-tsk-tsk, are you really going to put your sister and niece in danger, the way you did the old man?” he asked. “We all know how that ended, not very well for the old man, unfortunately.” Popov glanced down at the bloodstain on the floor and then back at Chase.
