EMP: Return of the Wild West | Book 3 | Survive The Journey

by Hamilton, Grace

  Emma and Justine came behind him, Marion bringing up the rear.

  “Well, they’re descending fast,” he said. “We outnumber them, but, unfortunately, we don’t have any guns.”

  “Couldn’t we wait for them here behind a rock and then jump out when they get close?” Emma asked. “If they’re close enough, we could probably overpower them. I’d like to beat that woman to death with my bare hands.”

  “Too big of a risk,” Darryl replied. He gauged the path ahead. Another four or five meters to the next big boulder, but he could see the horses clearly now. They were milling about near the end of the ravine. The travois still seemed, miraculously, to be intact. But more than that, he knew that Sasha’s group had put some of their things on it.

  “It’s not that hard to beat someone to death,” Emma added. “If you have to use your bare hands, just apply blunt force trauma to the throat, but with all of these rocks, a few hard blows to the head would do it.”

  Darryl glanced at his sister and saw a wild, hateful light in her eyes. Her face was dusty, sunburned, her hair sticking out in all directions. Yes, he thought, this was someone who could beat an enemy to death, if she had a chance.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  He took off running again, moving across the next gap. As he did, he looked at the trail again. Sasha was in the lead. He recognized the fancy orange and black coat. She was still picking her way down the trail, approaching the first switchback, but when Darryl stepped out into the open, she raised the Remington and pointed it at him. Darryl hunkered down and kept going. The crack of the rifle chased him a second later. He braced himself for pain, but the bullet went wild.

  Only when he was safely behind cover again did he realize that Horace was waving his hands over his head.

  “What are you doing back there?” Darryl asked.

  “Just trying to draw her aim a little higher, so she misses you,” Horace said sheepishly.

  “Stop making yourself a target, please.”

  He waited until the rest of the family had joined him. Ahead, the rocks were a little more spread out, but the angle was changing as the ravine broadened. He thought this might make it harder for Sasha to get a good shot. Considering their options, he turned to his family. Justine, Emma, and Marion were all watching him intently.

  “We have to get to those horses before they get spooked again,” he said. “This time, we’re running flat out, okay? No stop-start from rock to rock. Stay low. Try to make yourself as small a target as possible. When we get to the animals, move around behind them, use them as cover. Got it?”

  The baby was fussing again, working himself up to another crying fit. Justine tried bouncing him, rocking him from side to side, patting him on the back. Nothing seemed to work.

  The sooner I get them out of here, the better, Darryl thought.

  “We’ll follow your lead,” Marion said. “When you go, we’ll be right behind you. Don’t stop and don’t look back.”

  He nodded and turned. Fifty or sixty more meters to the horses, yet it seemed so far. Darryl’s shoulders and back hurt like hell from lugging the old man, and he had to adjust him again to get the weight up higher.

  “Here we go,” he said.

  And with that, Darryl took off running again, heading straight for the horses. He moved low, trying to keep his head down. However, he glanced one time at the trail behind and above them. Sasha and the other bandit were approaching the second switchback, picking up speed. She took another shot at him. He saw the flash of the muzzle as the sound carried down the ravine. The bullet whizzed past him, sizzling in the air somewhere to his right.

  He kept going, letting adrenaline push him. He’d gone another ten meters or so when Sasha took another shot, but he didn’t hear the bullet or see what it hit. The unharnessed horse noticed him them and turned in his direction. Clearly recognizing him, the animal started to approach Darryl. Finally, he reached the horse, which had come to meet him. Grabbing her reins, her moved around behind her.

  “Good girl,” he said, patting her on the neck. “I owe you so many apples and carrots after this.”

  The rest of the family arrived a second later, moving around behind him. And now, the second horse, the one dragging the travois, followed the leader and came toward them. Darryl waited until she got close, then he passed the reins to Emma and moved to the second horse. He’d finally reached his limit on lugging Horace, so he moved to the travois and slipped the old man off his back. He set him down on one of the support beams of the travois, with the water barrel at his back for cover.

  “See? You weren’t a problem at all,” he said to the old man.

  Darryl leaned over and looked between the boxes and barrels. The bandits had left some of their packs here, and he saw them all piled together in the middle of the travois. He couldn’t help but smile at the delicious irony.

  They came to steal from us, and we stole from them.

  But his eyes were drawn to one specific item which stuck out of the corner of the largest backpack. He pulled it out—a small bolt-action rifle. The stock was painted in a light-green camouflage, the barrel in bronze. It was a nice gun that looked like it had never been fired. Darryl thought it might be a newer-model Browning, but he wasn’t sure.

  He opened the breech and saw the shiny casing of a .30-06 bullet in the chamber. Just then, he heard another gunshot, as a bullet smashed into the water barrel. He closed the breech and raised the rifle. Sasha and the bandit were at the bottom of the trail now, and she’d taken a wild shot in their direction. Darryl aimed back at them, bracing his sore arms against Tabitha’s old medicine box. Then he took the shot. The jolt of the rifle was utterly satisfying, and when he saw Sasha and the other bandit dive for cover, wrapping their arms over their heads, he laughed out loud.

  “Mom, Emma, Justine, either get in a saddle or get on the travois,” he called. “I’ll hold the bandits off while we hit the trail. Dad said the cabin is just down this trail a little way. Hurry!”

  He heard them moving about, but he kept his eyes on the distant figures. When Sasha started to rise, he took another shot. The bullet hit the trail just above her, creating a little puff of dust. She dropped again. Justine appeared then, taking a seat on the travois, as she continued trying to calm the baby.

  “He needs to feed,” she noted. “Poor little guy. Bullets are flying all over the place, and he’s just hungry.”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll be safe soon,” Darryl replied.

  Marion had climbed into the saddle of the lead horse, and she used the reins to guide it onto the trail. Emma was on the second horse, and she tapped it with her heels to get it moving. Darryl remained standing, following behind the travois and keeping an eye on Sasha. Because she was crawling, she was too small of a target now.

  He caught movement to his left, some enormous object barreling toward him. Turning, bringing the gun around, he discovered a few of the cows rotting dutifully after the horses. Marion was on the trail now, riding toward the trees. Darryl considered their predicament. If indeed the cabin was in sight, what was to stop Sasha from biding her time and attacking them as soon as the opportunity presented itself. No, they would never be safe as long as these bandits lived.

  He turned back to the travois and realized Justine was staring at him hard.

  “I can read your face,” she said. “Please, don’t do anything foolish.”

  “Not foolish,” he replied. “I’m going to clear the road behind us, so we won’t be followed by violent maniacs.”

  “Just remember, you’re a father now,” she said. “You can’t take crazy risks.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “I want to believe you, but reckless heroics run in your family,” she said.

  “I know, but I’ve got a plan.”

  Not entirely true. He had only the rough circumference of a plan. Marion had turned in her saddle to look at him.

  “Get them
to the cabin, Mom,” he said. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  He saw her face scrunch up in agony. She opened her mouth, as if to protest, but after a moment, she closed it again and nodded sadly.

  “It’ll be fine,” he said. “Trust me.” Faint comfort, he knew.

  Marion turned back around, shook the reins, and picked up speed, heading into the woods. The second horse followed, and Darryl opted not to look at them again, knowing he might second-guess himself.

  Dad, you taught me well, he thought, standing now out in the open. Do whatever it takes to keep your family safe. Whatever it takes. That’s the rule we live by.

  33

  The woods were deep and dense here, and enormous evergreen trees grew close together with plenty of underbrush between them. That gave him a terrain advantage. As soon as the horses entered the woods, Darryl headed for the nearest tree. He looked back across the ravine in time to see Sasha and the other bandit moving across the ravine toward a nearby rock. Raising the gun, he aimed at them, but his arms were shaky. He had nothing to brace against, and by the time he’d steadied himself, they’d dashed behind cover.

  So be it, he thought. We’ll do this the hard way.

  He pushed through a dense screen of bushes, ripping at the branches as they clawed at his clothes. On the other side, he considered the trees around him. The most suitable was a smaller spruce tree. It had low enough branches that he could pull himself up. He slung the Browning rifle over his shoulder and reached for the lowest branch. Pulling himself up proved difficult, however. He was just so worn out.

  Finally, he planted one shoe against the trunk, pushing with his foot while pulling with his hands. This was enough to get him off the ground, and then he managed to wrap an arm over the lowest branch. From there, he got his other leg over the top. He continued climbing until he was about maybe ten meters off the ground, with a decent view of the ravine. Unfortunately, he realized now just how littered the ravine floor was with large rocks. Even from this angle, Sasha had plenty of cover.

  He scanned the area for her. They were hiding somewhere now. Darryl raised the gun, bracing the barrel against another branch and settling his shoulder against the tree trunk.

  “Come on,” he muttered. “Step out of hiding, you little vermin. Give me one good shot at you, Sasha. Just one.”

  He saw a flash of red nylon cloth as the second bandit stepped out from behind a rock. Darryl took a shot at the man, but he quickly ducked back out of sight.

  How many bullets left? Darryl wondered. He opened the breech again and checked. He was shocked to see only a single bullet remaining. It looked like the magazine could hold a total of four, and he’d already fired three of them.

  There were probably more bullets in the backpack, he thought. And I didn’t think to check.

  Justine would never let him live down this poor planning, assuming he survived, but everything had happened so fast.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “Give me a Glock 19 with a fifteen-round magazine over this four-shot rifle.” He sighed and raised the gun again, scanning for Sasha. He didn’t see her anywhere. Still hiding behind cover. And now, to make matters worse, he only had a single shot left. He had to let her get closer before he took it.

  A flash of red drew his eye again. The second bandit was making another run for it. Darryl tracked him with the rifle, but he wanted to save the bullet for Sasha. He noticed that the man was walking strangely, limping, clutching his hip with both hands.

  By God, I think I hit him, he realized. Still, he was alive and getting close, too close. And where the hell was Sasha?

  The second bandit was moving at an angle from cover to cover, headed to the far side of the ravine, but he was clearly having trouble. And now, he wasn’t making much effort to find cover.

  Do they know I’m low on bullets? Darryl wondered. How could they?

  Unfortunately, the bandit was closing in, heading toward the end of the ravine and the trail beyond. Darryl tracked him, fighting the urge to pull the trigger. Sasha was clearly the more important target. Suddenly, the bandit came to a stop, bent over. He took one more step and fell forward, landing hard on the rocks.

  Darryl’s gaze was fixed on the man, so when gunshots rang out, he didn’t know where they were coming from. Suddenly bullets were crashing through tree limbs all around him. He ducked back behind a branch as a cascade of needles rained down on him. The muzzle flashes came from him his left. He dared a quick glance over the branch and spotted her.

  Sasha came from the left. She’d worked her way to the opposite side of the ravine from the other bandit, and she was running flat out now, trying to aim the rifle at the same time. And she was headed straight for Darryl.

  She used the other bandit as bait to distract me into giving away my position, he realized.

  Sasha fired again, and this time the bullet hit the big branch in front of him, the one he’d been using to brace the rifle. Splinters exploded into his face, one of them getting in his left eye. Darryl instinctively pulled away, but this made him slip off his perch. As he fell, he managed to wrap his arms around a branch. It slowed his fall, but it also made him drop his rifle. He toppled through the branches, crashing down, snapping through twigs, until he got caught, stopping just before the ground below.

  Because of the angle of his fall, and the denseness of the branches, he found himself caught upside down, his legs sticking up, his arms wrapped in what felt like a net. He thrashed, swinging his arms and legs back and forth. Twigs scraped at his clothing, but slowly he tore himself free. With a final swing of both arms, he toppled to one side, fell out of the branches, and landed on his side on the hard ground.

  Where is she? Where did she go?

  Disoriented by the fall, he was unsure where he’d wound up. He pushed himself up on his arm, looking around for the rifle. He’d fallen behind the tree, and dense brush and thick trunks rose up on all sides. When he strained to listen, he no longer heard Sasha charging toward him. Indeed, the area had gotten strangely quiet, except for the dragging of the travois on the trail. His family wasn’t all that far away, after all.

  As he picked himself up, he cast about for the rifle. It had landed in the crook of some branches just above him, and he reached up to retrieve it. Holding it close, he leaned around the tree trunk, pushing through the bushes so he could see into the clearing beyond. And if she was out there waiting for him, pointing the Remington at the tree, ready to fire? His skin crawled at the possibility.

  Still, it couldn’t be helped. He had to figure out where she’d gone. Slowly, he pushed his way through. Beyond, he saw the ravine stretching out before him. The injured bandit was still curled up on the ground off to the right, unmoving, but Darryl saw no sign of Sasha. He kept pushing forward, slipping past the tree and out into the open. He tracked from left to right, aiming the rifle in front of him. The trail curled out of the woods just ten meters to his right, heading past the end of the ravine and back into the woods further on. When he turned in that direction, he saw one of the cows trotting along, the end of his family’s little caravan. The baby gave a loud cry then, which carried out over the ravine.

  Where did you go, Sasha? Come on. Stick your head out of your hole.

  He tracked back to the left, looking into the distance where the mountain pass dropped down into the ravine. The line of trees marked the end of the ravine. He was staring in that direction, aiming with the rifle, when she lurched out from behind a tree not five meters away. As she turned to face him, she led with the Remington.

  And seeing the barrel of the gun pointed directly at him, he pulled the trigger. The Browning kicked against his shoulder, the report ringing out. And Darryl watched in horror as the bullet hit the trunk of the tree beside Sasha, splitting the bark.

  “There you go,” Sasha said. “Great aim.” At first, she seemed entirely unscathed from all of the fighting. Then he noted the shattered goggles, which were pushed to the top of her head.

  He considere
d lunging at her, but the distance was too great, and there was no time. The Remington rifle was centered on his chest.

  I’m going to be killed with my own gun, he thought, and felt a bitter irony.

  She pulled the trigger, and the gun clicked. She pulled the bolt and tried again. Nothing. She’d used every bullet in her charge. He saw her eyes go wide, her lips draw back to reveal teeth that were too white for the wilderness, too straight, too perfect. Indeed, they were an incongruence with her sun-burned cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

  “Well, then,” she said, after a moment’s surprise. She turned the rifle around, grabbing it by the barrel. “You might as well take it back!”

  She hoisted the rifle up over her shoulder and flung it at him, as if she were chucking a throwing axe in his direction. Darryl tried to duck back out of sight, but he bumped up against a tree. With the Remington sailing toward him, he had little time to react, so he raised the Browning sideways, using it as a crude shield.

  The two rifles collided, and the force of the impact knocked the Browning out of his hands. They both clattered to the ground. In the process, Darryl turned away for a second, and when he turned back, Sasha was pulling something from her coat pocket. A small black Beretta. Darryl turned and lunged back through the underbrush, just as she took a shot in his direction.

  “You killed all of my people,” Sasha shouted, “but you left the most dangerous one alive. That was a mistake. A big mistake.”

  And, as if to prove her point, she fired another shot in his direction. He heard the bullet hit the tree at his back, and he pushed deeper into the underbrush.

  “You’re going to die,” Sasha said. “Your whole family is going to die, and I’m going to take everything that belongs to you. Your father gave his life in vain! Get ready.”

  34

  She took a third shot, though he was well hidden now. The bullet crackled through the underbrush, and Darryl dropped low. As he cast about for some kind of weapon, he realized she was running. It seemed she’d taken the shot to cover her tracks, but he heard her now, sprinting full out, coming for him.