by Rusty Ellis
The rage in Chase’s chest shot into his temples, the adrenaline and blood coursing through his body. He tightened his grip on his Glock, training the front sight in the middle of Popov’s face, midway down the man’s nose.
Popov smiled and tilted his head partially behind Megan’s head, then behind Haley’s head.
“What’s going through your mind, Harper? Do you have the shot? Could you take the shot and live with the consequence? What if you’re off by an inch?”
Popov reached up with his left hand and grabbed the back of Haley’s neck and squeezed. She let out a whimper, a tear streaked down her face as she stared at Chase. Popov pushed something into Megan’s back, the assault rifle Chase guessed, causing her back to arch out from the gun’s barrel.
“You’re not thinking straight, soldier. You’re acting on emotion. A tactical failure,” Popov said. “What’s your best move, from a tactical standpoint?”
Chase’s mind raced through the scenarios. Each scenario ending in the likelihood that Megan or Haley, or both, would end up shot. None of the scenarios panned out with an acceptable outcome, or at least a justifiable outcome—Popov was right. Chase lowered his weapon and pointed the muzzle toward the floor in front of him.
“That’s right. Now you’re thinking straight, Harper. Smart move. Now, set the gun on the floor and kick it away.”
Chase bent down and set his gun on the ground, his eyes locked on Popov the entire time. He took the outer edge of his left boot and flipped the gun across the carpet to his left, sending it bouncing toward the back of Henry’s chair. Chase watched as Popov let go of Haley’s neck and returned both hands to his weapon, the muzzle still pressed into Megan’s back.
“Let them go, Popov. They mean nothing to you.”
“True, true. But they mean something to you.”
Popov reached up with his left hand and pushed Megan and Haley apart, revealing the assault rifle in his hand. He reached up and roughly grabbed the back of Megan’s neck. Squeezing, he turned her head toward him and then Chase.
“This one must be your sister. Megan is it?”
Chase stood still, locked on Popov’s every move. Watching his head, his hands, the angle of his torso, looking for any lapse of attention.
Popov released Megan’s neck and switched his grip to Haley’s neck, twisting it toward him and then toward Chase, “And this must be your niece. Haley, right?”
Chase remained still, his face void of emotion, still following Popov’s tactical advice.
Chase repeated, “Let them go, Popov. This is between you and me.”
Popov ignored Chase’s demands, “This looks like some kind of family reunion. Have I intruded on some kind of family reunion, Harper?”
Again, nothing from Chase but a sober stare.
“You’re right, Harper. This is between us. Should they be punished for the sins of their brother and uncle?” Popov laughed and shook his head. “I think I’ve been spending too much time around Adam and the Garden, it’s rubbing off.”
Popov released Haley’s neck and returned both hands to his rifle.
“You had some good Christian upbringing, didn’t you Harper? How does the real version of that scripture go?”
“The fathers shall not be put to death for the children, neither shall the children be put to death for the fathers,” Chase evenly replied.
“Well done, Harper. Do you think that includes brothers and uncles?”
Nothing from Chase.
“I think it does. Your sister and niece shouldn’t die because of what you’ve done. That just wouldn’t be right, or fair,” Popov said. “I’ll tell you what, they can go outside and we can handle this between us. Just you and me. Your sins on your own head, not theirs.”
Popov stepped to the side and used his rifle to push Megan toward Haley and then direct both women toward the door.
“Shut it behind you,” Popov ordered.
Megan paused and looked at Chase.
“It’s okay, go. Take Haley as far away as possible.”
“I’d listen to your brother and go. You don’t want to be around for this,” Popov said and smiled at Megan.
Chase nodded at Megan and watched as she wrapped her arm around Haley’s shoulder and pulled the door shut behind them.
Popov smiled and stared at Chase. An uncomfortable silence, as if the situation were a stalemate of sorts, though it obviously wasn’t. The next play was on Popov, the assault rifle allowing him to make the next move. Chase kept his head straight and glanced down at his gun, seven feet away on the floor, butted up against Henry’s chair. Popov saw Chase’s eyes move from him to the gun and back.
“Temptation. There’s several scriptures about that, right Harper? Though I don’t think they were talking about guns.”
Chase didn’t answer.
“What do the scriptures say about temptation?” Popov asked and waited. “I’ll tell you, it says to remove temptation. If you remove temptation, then you won’t sin, right? So if the gun wasn’t there, a temptation, then you wouldn’t be thinking about picking it up and shooting me.”
“Sounds about right,” Chase finally responded.
“I’ll tell you what, I’m going to remove the temptation, for your sake and mine, it’s the Christian thing to do,” Popov said.
Popov raised his rifle and motioned for Chase to raise his hands and clear a path for Popov to reach the gun. Chase raised his hands and complied. He moved across the room to his right and waited. Popov kept the rifle pointed at Chase’s chest and stepped to where the Glock was setting on the floor. He bent down while keeping the rifle and his eyes trained on Chase as he felt the ground for the gun.
Chase waited and watched, his heel raised on his left boot, transferring his weight to the ball of his foot. Popov glanced down for a split-second to locate the gun… Chase made his move.
65
Popov looked down at the Glock for an instant, a micro-opening for Chase to react. Chase drove the ball of his left foot into the carpet and sprung forward toward the opening to the kitchen.
Chase landed and scrambled to his right, out of the door frame and along the wall. He heard Popov drop the Glock back to the ground. Chase spotted Henry’s rifle leaning upright against the wall—where Megan had left it the night before.
Chase scooped up the rifle and dropped to one knee. He raised the rifle upward, pointing about four-feet up the open entryway into the kitchen.
“Really, Harper?” Popov’s voice boomed through the living room and into the kitchen. “You want to play hide and go seek?”
Chase stayed low, Henry’s rifle trained chest-high on the passageway into the living room.
“Hide and go seek is no fun with just two people, though. Let’s invite a couple more people to play.”
Chase could hear the floor creak as Popov walked to the front door, the floorboards giving away Popov’s position, just out of sight of where Chase knelt. Chase took the left heel of his raised knee and planted it on the linoleum floor and pulled himself forward, inching toward the opening and a view of the front door.
“Or, you can come out and we can chat like men. Your call,” Popov said.
Chase inched closer and listened.
“Have it your way.”
Chase heard the rattle of the doorknob on the front door. He reached his left foot further forward and pulled hard against the floor, sliding into view of the front door and Popov standing with one hand on the doorknob and the other on the pistol-grip of his rifle, pointing the weapon toward the kitchen. Chase’s elevation change paid off. Popov’s weapon was pointed directly ahead, ready to deliver his rounds to Chase’s chest, a tactical error. He jerked the barrel of his gun downward toward Chase’s crouched position, but it was too late.
Chase leaned into the rifle’s stock and pulled the trigger. The rifle boomed and the round struck Popov in the chest. Popov’s weapon fired and shot a round over Chase’s head, striking the door to the refrigerator with a metallic
zip. Chase flipped the lever action down and up, ejecting its used brass and chambering a second round. He fired another round, center mass, striking Popov a second time in the chest, forcing him to drop the assault rifle at his feet. Popov leaned back against the door, his legs trembling under the weight of his body, a confused look on his face, a ghostly question of surprise and defeat. His legs gave way and his heels slid out in front of him, dropping his body to the floor in a sitting position against the wall.
“But… how…,” Popov struggled to push the words out and stared at the rifle in Chase’s hands.
Chase stood and stepped toward Popov, making the man look upward to see his face, the rifle dangling at Chase’s side and directly in front of Popov’s face.
“You should recognize it,” Chase answered. “It’s Henry’s. You know, the man you killed.”
Popov stared at the rifle in Chase’s hand as his head drooped and came to a rest on his chest.
Chase stared down at Popov’s limp body. A former soldier. A moral compass broken. Now beyond repair.
“Chase!” Megan’s voice yelled from the other side of the door.
Chase raised the rifle to his shoulder and flung the front door open…
66
Chase stepped onto the porch and saw Megan at the bottom of the steps. He looked around but couldn’t locate Haley.
“He’s got Haley!” Megan yelled and pointed toward Henry’s old truck parked in front of the house.
Chase swiveled the rifle’s sights and could see two people on the other side of the truck’s cab. He kept the rifle at his shoulder as he stepped cautiously toward the stairs. He squinted to see through the windshield and could make out Haley and… Adam!
“Don’t move,” Adam waived the barrel of a small caliber handgun in Chase’s direction.
He had the door to the truck open and was pushing Haley inside, one hand holding his gun, the other hand wrapped around Haley’s arm.
“Stay right there,” Adam yelled at Chase and shoved Haley down on the seat, her legs still outside the truck.
Chase leveled the sight into the fleshy middle of Adam’s face, a pinkish target surrounded by a flurry of hair and beard. Adam’s head bobbed back and forth in the crease between the truck’s open door and cab. Haley fought with Adam to get out of the truck, causing another distraction and partially blocking Adam’s head and torso. Not a clear shot.
“Let her go, Adam,” Chase warned with his cheek snug against the rifle's stock.
Adam ducked down at the sight of the rifle and yelled back, “You don’t understand. She can’t leave me. She’s one of the Twelve. She can only be released by me. Man hath no authority over her release, not her, not you, not her sister. She’s been called!”
Adam’s delusional rattling and jerky movements kept Chase’s index finger firm against the trigger, but short of releasing a round from the barrel. Adam pointed his gun at Haley and waved for her to move further into the truck, across the bench to the middle of the seat.
“Adam, please, let me go,” Haley begged.
Megan inched closer to the back of the truck, Chase warned her off, “Back up, Meg.”
Adam heard Chase’s voice and took a half-step along the side of the truck bed and pointed his gun at Megan.
“This is your fault,” Adam said to Megan. “Then shalt thou bring forth that woman, which have committed that wicked thing, unto thy gates, even that woman, and shalt stone her with stones, till they die.”
A distant crack shook the air. Chase watched as Adam’s body lurched forward, his chest striking the side of the truck bed before dropping to the ground. Megan screamed as Haley scrambled through the cab of the truck and out the passenger door. Megan raced to where Haley was balled up on the ground and sprawled across her, hugging and creating a shield over her.
Chase kept the rifle snug against his cheek and shoulder, pointing the front sight at where Adam had disappeared behind the truck bed. He kept his eye trained on the back of the truck as he walked down the steps and made a wide berth around the back.
Adam’s foot came into view, then the rest of his body, sprawled out on the dirt, his face staring blankly back at Chase, the handgun dangling from his hand.
A voice called out from down the dirt road, in the gunshot's direction, and warned, “Coming in.”
Chase turned toward the voice and watched as a man stood from a prone position on the ground. The man reached down and retrieved a rifle with a bulky scope on top and cradled it in his arms as he walked toward the house.
“You can lower your rifle, Chase,” the voice said.
Chase lowered the rifle from his shoulder and watched as the man drew closer.
“Frank?” Chase said.
“You expecting someone else?” Frank smiled and joined Chase at the truck.
The two men shook hands. Chase stood confused, still bewildered by Frank’s appearance. Frank looked at the rifle in Chase’s hand and frowned.
“Henry’s?” he hesitated and asked.
Chase shook his head. Frank let out a slow breath.
“Sorry,” Chase offered.
“Henry was a good man. He’ll be missed up here,” Frank said and then pointed the tip of his rifle at Adam, “but he won’t.”
Megan and Haley stood on the other side of the truck, clutching one another and staring at Chase and Frank.
“How did you know?” Chase asked.
“Henry.”
“Henry?”
“He texted me, said you guys were going to get your sister, a simple little grab he claimed. That’s Henry, a field general in his own mind,” Frank smiled. “When I didn’t hear back from him this morning, I told Alice.”
Chase raised an eyebrow at the mention of Frank’s wife.
“I won’t stand by and shirk my duty, I didn’t back then, and I won’t now. That’s the man my wife married. She knows that,” he said. “Those of us up here on the hill are family. Henry was family. You and your sisters are family. We may have pretty loose membership rules, but we pride ourselves on having a strict ‘come to the rescue’ policy,” Frank grinned.
“Still doesn’t explain your timing,” Chase quizzed.
“I wandered up the road and saw you and your sister and niece race up to Henry’s. I figure if you were in that kind of hurry, someone was probably following you. So I hunkered down and waited.”
“So, I was just lucky?” Chase asked.
“Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good.”
67
Chase pulled his truck alongside the gas pumps at the store. Haley sat on the middle hump of the bench seat while Megan was in the passenger seat holding her hand. Chase climbed out of his truck and began filling his tank. A jingle rang out over the store’s front door and Frank and Alice stepped out. Alice had a grocery sack in her hand.
“Headed out?” Frank asked.
“Home,” Megan said to him through her open window.
Chase smiled and nodded, “Home.”
“Has a great ring to it,” Frank said.
Alice stepped up to Megan’s window and extended her hand. The three exchanged greetings and names. Chase finished topping off his tank, screwed the gas cap on and flipped the metal door shut and then stepped around to where Alice was chatting with Megan and Haley.
Chase reached back to pull his wallet out and was stopped by Alice’s hand, “Stop it.”
Frank shrugged and smiled at his wife. She handed Chase a grocery sack and then pointed out its contents.
“Three water bottles, a bag of sunflower seeds, a bag of miniature donuts, Frank’s favorites, and a bag of cheddar cheese popcorn.”
Chase nodded along until she got to the popcorn. Chase gave a questioning look at the popcorn.
Alice teared up and Frank wrapped an arm around her and said, “Henry’s favorite.”
The sound of Henry’s name knotted up Chase’s chest and stuck in his throat. A lost member of the Crouch family. A lost member of his family.
“So when are we going to see you again,” Frank asked.
“Depends,” Chase answered.
“On what,” Alice asked.
“When’s the next family reunion?”
Thank you!
Thank you for reading:
Fall of Adam
A Chase Harper Justice Thriller
Book 1
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About the Author
Rusty Ellis is the eldest of seven children born to Paul and Shari Ellis. He grew up living in several cities, due to his father's career in the U.S. Air Force. Rusty has lived in California (where he was born), Utah, Florida, Alaska, Virginia, Idaho, Wyoming, and in Las Vegas, Nevada, where he now lives.
Rusty met his wife in Rexburg, Idaho, while attending college. The two married a short time after (six months later!) and have continued to date and court to this day. Rusty and DaLea have six children, five daughters-in-law, one son-in-law, and 11 grandchildren.
DaLea works as a Realtor and Rusty retired from active law enforcement duty in 2018.
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