by Harley Tate
Dan shook his head. “We’re walking into a fight we can’t win.”
“Would you rather they break in, get all our supplies and guns, and do who knows what to Leah, Susie, and Oliver?”
“Damn it.” Dan wiped sweat off his forehead. “I should have brought a rifle.”
“We should have done a lot of things.” Grant held his gun pointed toward the ground. “I’ll lead, you stick to the house. Keep anyone from breaking in.”
“What if they’ve got a gun?”
Grant hesitated. “Then I guess you run like hell and hope you don’t get shot.”
“Great.” Dan hoisted up his pants. “If I knew I’d need to be a sprinter when the end of the world came, I’d have laid off the beer.”
Grant pushed the gate open wide enough to fit through and sidestepped to the edge of his house. Creeping between just-emerging hostas and lilies, he eased up to the corner.
Even rusty, he was a reliable shot at twenty yards, but he couldn’t identify any of the men in the street. If they were neighbors caught up in the melee and he shot them, he would never forgive himself. I have to get closer.
Grant darted around the corner of the house and ducked behind the row of bushes obscuring most of the front porch. The burnt-out truck still sat in the driveway. With a deep breath, Grant took off for it, keeping close to the house as he rushed up the side of the garage and around the front corner.
“Hey!”
Grant ducked behind the front end of the truck.
“You! Get out here!”
He sucked in a breath. He hadn’t made it unnoticed. Crouching low, Grant crept toward the far side of the truck.
A pair of boots stomped up the driveway on the other side. “Where the hell you at?”
Grant came even with the boots, moving down the length of the truck as the person on the other side advanced. Two men stood at the end of his driveway. One turned his way and Grant recognized him: Logan from the meeting.
He motioned to the street and mouthed, “How many?”
Logan stared at him for a moment before holding up an open hand and then one finger. Six men.
Grant pointed at his gun. Any armed?
Logan reduced his finger count to two.
Two armed men, one of them chasing him around the side of the truck. Not the best odds, but he didn’t have a choice. He was already exposed.
Grant sucked in a breath and took off at a run, darting across Harvey’s driveway and into the bushes in front of the old man’s house.
“There he is!”
Grant backed up, keeping low enough for the bushes to cover him, but clear enough to shoot. Thanks to the truck’s lights, he could see not only the street, but all of Harvey’s yard. A man in a frog mask bounded up the driveway with a crowbar in his hand.
Grant lifted his Shield and took aim. He fired and hit the man square in the chest. The frog mask dipped and the man stared at his chest for a moment before sinking to his knees.
Another man in a dog mask ran up to his buddy carrying what looked to be a shotgun. Grant fired and hit him in the thigh. The man screamed and dropped the gun.
Logan and two of his friends took off running, zigzagging out of the light and into grassy front yards. Grant let them go.
Thanks to the masks, Grant could tell the groups apart.
Grant waited behind the bushes for another of the intruders to show up, but after the two fatalities, everyone scattered. The lit-up space in front of the truck stood empty apart from Greg’s lifeless body. Even Jennifer had disappeared.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he searched the area for any sign of movement.
As he squinted at the tree across the street, the truck’s lights clicked off. The neighborhood plunged into darkness. Grant couldn’t see a thing.
Chapter Sixteen
LEAH
Rose Valley Lane
Smyrna, Georgia
Monday, 10:00 p.m.
Leah watched the gun-toting dog-face man fall to the ground and she cheered. Either someone from Greg’s crew had finally decided to take a stand, or her husband made it back home.
She bet all the food in their house that it was Grant. Bending down, Leah lined up the sight and scanned the street for any attackers. No one risked getting caught in the headlights.
With two men down and one injured, that left three of the newcomers and all of Greg’s men. But without Greg, Leah wasn’t sure they would attack. After Mr. Unicorn killed Greg, they definitely weren’t going to join forces.
She had to assume both still wanted their supplies.
As she stared out into the street, the truck lights shut off. Crap. She couldn’t see a thing and neither could anyone else.
Leah stood up and rushed downstairs. Oliver and Susie cowered together in the kitchen, as far away from windows and doors as they could manage. Susie rose up as Leah came in.
“What’s going on? There were gunshots! Screaming!”
“The neighborhood is under attack. Six men at least, all wearing masks.”
“Are they shooting neighbors?”
“Greg is dead. Someone else shot two of the thieves and they’re down.” Leah sucked in a breath. “I shot their leader, but only in the arm. He’s still mobile and madder than a hornet in a jar.”
Oliver stood up, clutching the rifle. “What should we do?”
“I think Grant is out there. He’s the one who shot the newcomers.”
“What about Dan?”
“I haven’t seen him.”
Susie swallowed. “Are Greg’s men still out there?”
“I don’t know. Some ran away, but it’s too dark. I couldn’t see who.”
Leah turned to head back out the front of the house when the back door rattled. She put her finger to her lips to keep Oliver and Susie quiet.
The door rattled again and the handle shook. Thanks to the jam Grant shoved underneath the handle, Leah thought it would hold, but not forever. She brought the rifle up into position and wedged it against her shoulder.
“Hello? Is anyone in there?” The door rattled again.
Leah tilted her head. “Dan, is that you?”
“Yes. Let me in.”
She stepped forward, but Susie rushed up with a warning hand. She spoke barely above a whisper. “Don’t open the door.”
Leah frowned. “Why not?”
“It doesn’t sound like Dan. We need to make sure.” Susie called out. “Are you all right?”
“No. I’ve been shot. I need some help. Please, let me in.”
Shot? How? Leah glanced at Susie. The older woman was shaking her head no. Leah didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t leave Dan out there to die in her backyard, but she couldn’t risk letting in a stranger, either.
She hedged. “Hold on. I’ve got to get the stuff off the door to open it.”
The voice on the other side sounded pained. “Hurry.”
Leah turned to Oliver and waved him over. “Get the flashlight and go upstairs. The guest room looks out on the backyard. If you can shine that light down by the door, you can see who it is. If it’s Dan, holler and I’ll let him in.”
“What if it isn’t?”
“Turn off the light and run like hell. If he’s armed, you don’t want to get shot.”
Oliver nodded and grabbed the light off the couch before scurrying up the stairs.
Leah glanced at Susie. “Are you sure that isn’t Dan?”
Susie nodded. “Very.”
Leah bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting for Oliver. He was taking forever. After another minute, she shook her head. “Something’s wrong. I’m going up there.”
She hurried up the stairs. “Oliver? What’s the matter? Can’t you—”
The barrel of a gun emerged from the guest bedroom followed by a thick arm wrapped around Oliver’s neck. “Back up.”
Leah complied, retreating down the hallway as a burly man she’d never seen before shoved Oliver forward. “How did you get in here
?”
“Not too hard when everyone’s distracted.”
She stumbled. “You mean Dan at the back door?”
The burly man mocked her. “I’m hurt, please help me.”
Leah ground her teeth together. Susie had been right not to open the door and Leah was a few steps away from letting some stranger in the house. If Dan wasn’t in the backyard, where was he? And where was Grant?
Her heel slipped off the landing to the stairs and Leah grabbed the rail to keep from falling. “What do you want with us?”
“Everything you have, to start. Then we can talk about what else.” The man eyed her with a look that made Leah’s skin crawl.
He motioned for her to go downstairs and Leah complied, easing down one stair at a time, all the while focusing on the man and Oliver. Based on his blue lips and fingers that weakly clutched at the man’s arm, Oliver wasn’t getting enough oxygen to stay conscious much longer.
Once he passed out, the man wouldn’t have anything weighing him down. Leah had to act before that happened. She paused at the landing halfway down the stairs. “I’m not alone. You really think you can take all of us?”
The man raised a bushy eyebrow. “Like anyone around here knows what to do with a gun.” He waved the pistol in his hand at Leah’s rifle. “You ever even shoot that thing?”
“Enough to be dangerous.”
He chuckled. “To yourself, maybe. Now get downstairs and let my buddy in.”
Leah swallowed and glanced down into the first floor. She couldn’t see Susie anywhere, but their giant pile of gear and food was more than obvious. As soon as the man holding Oliver hostage got a look at it, he’d probably shoot them all and be done with it.
She focused on Oliver and closed her eyes in slow motion before taking another step. Please get the hint. His brow wrinkled. Leah repeated the movement, closing her eyes and sagging a bit as she retreated another step.
“Something wrong with you? Why are you slumping over?” The man yanked on Oliver as he cleared the landing.
Leah was running out of time. She stared at Oliver. If he didn’t help her, she would have to risk shooting him. At last, he either got the hint or the lack of oxygen took its toll. His eyelids drooped. His fingers slipped off the man’s arm.
Leah backed down a quick three steps as Oliver’s body sagged with unconscious weight. The man took his eyes off Leah to hoist Oliver’s lifeless body up and Leah took the chance.
She jerked the rifle up into position, aimed at the man’s shoulder opposite Oliver, and fired. The kickback tossed her back down the last two steps and she landed hard on her butt on the wood floor.
The burly man looked down at his shoulder, but didn’t even wobble.
Did I miss?
Blood bloomed on his pale shirt and Leah blinked. She hit him right where she aimed, but he didn’t act like it even hurt. What kind of a man was he? She brought the rifle back up and aimed at his head, but it was too late.
The man aimed back with his pistol. “Shoot me again and I’ll make sure to have some fun with you before you die.”
Leah lowered the rifle. The man tossed Oliver down the remaining steps. His body landed in a heap next to Leah. She reached out and felt for a pulse. Slow and steady. He would wake up soon.
As the man hit the floor, he grabbed Leah by the arm and yanked her up to stand. She struggled in his grip, trying in vain to get the rifle into position. He kicked at her hand holding the barrel and the rifle flew out of her grip and across the room.
Before she could scream, his arm flew back and his knuckles collided with her face. Leah’s head whipped to the side. Her brain beat against her skull. She swooned.
“Get over there and open the back door.” With a mighty shove, he launched Leah toward the back door.
She staggered. Her brain felt like applesauce. I can’t pass out. I have to stay awake. She struggled toward the door, barely registering Susie in the kitchen.
The man still claiming to be Dan knocked on the door. “Please let me in. I’ve been shot. There’s blood everywhere.”
Leah stumbled as she reached for the door. The whole room spun. Nausea brought bile and spit up her throat. She gagged.
The booming blast of a gunshot behind her snapped her head back. Leah turned around and the world spun with her. The man who punched her and choked Oliver into unconsciousness lay facedown on the floor.
A massive gaping hole marred his back.
Leah tried to process. She lifted her head. Susie stood in the kitchen, holding the shotgun in both hands, frozen. Leah blinked to clear the dimming of her vision. A ringing sounded in her ears.
She staggered, searching for a chair or a table to hold onto. The world cut to black and Leah passed out.
Chapter Seventeen
GRANT
Rose Valley Lane
Smyrna, Georgia
Monday, 10:00 p.m.
Grant blinked in vain. Without the truck’s lights, he couldn’t see a thing. Shit. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced around. He needed that truck.
Thanks to the full-size bed, it would haul most of their gear and they wouldn’t have to leave much behind. They had to have it.
He sucked in a breath and took off, running straight for the truck. I can’t see, neither can anyone else. Grant stopped at the body of the man in the dog mask and picked up the shotgun. So far, so good.
Racing down the driveway and into the road, he tore around the side of the truck and stumbled to a stop. A man stood beside the back end, rooting underneath a tarp.
Grant brought the shotgun up. “Stop. Put your hands where I can see them.”
The man jerked back and his hands shot into the air. Even though Grant was only a handful of steps away, he couldn’t make out the man’s features.
“Identify yourself.”
“John Peplum. I live on Wren over by Logan.”
Grant frowned and stepped forward. The tattoos covering the stranger’s arms reminded him of the man who held Jennifer in the street. He pointed with the gun barrel. “Do you have any identification? Something to prove it?”
“Not with me.”
“If I let you go, what will you do?”
The man didn’t answer. Grant leaned over and put the man’s chest in his sights. He couldn’t risk a lie or a double-cross.
As he exhaled, a shape emerged from the shadows behind the stranger. Grant jerked the gun that way as Dan’s face came close enough for Grant to see.
“Don’t go shooting me, now.” Dan squinted at the other man. “John, right?’
He nodded.
“You know him?”
“He’s a friend of Logan’s.”
Grant lowered the gun. “Are you sure?”
Dan nodded. “I saw him at the meeting.”
And I was about to shoot him. Grant held the shotgun out to Dan and waited until the older man took it before motioning to John. “Get out of here unless you want to get shot for real.”
The man took off without saying a word. Grant leaned against the truck. “I didn’t believe him.” He wiped at his face. “It’s only been a few days and I was willing to shoot him on the off-chance he was lying.”
Dan checked the shotgun. “Don’t blame you. How many more are out there?”
Grant tallied it up in his head. “With John taking off, all of Greg’s men are accounted for. I saw Logan and two others run earlier. There’s two dead mask-wearers.”
“I counted six, total, including the one with dreads.”
“That leaves three uninjured, and their leader with a gunshot wound to the arm.”
Grant nodded. “We have to take them out.” He motioned at the truck. “Cover me.”
While Dan stood guard, Grant clambered up into the truck. He reached for the ignition and almost whooped for joy. The keys were there. He pocketed them and hurried back to the ground. “I’ve got the keys. If we can find the stragglers, we can end this.”
A muffled gunshot echoed in the
stillness and Grant jerked up. “Was that—?”
“At your house? It sure sounded like it.” Dan pointed with the shotgun. “Go and I’ll cover you.”
Grant took off for his house, keeping low, but not stopping until he reached the front door. He slammed a fist on the wood. “Leah! Leah!” He tried the knob. Locked.
If that gunshot was inside, then whoever broke in came through the back. Grant rushed around the side with his handgun ready. The fence gate hung loose on its hinges, splintered where he’d locked the handle.
Grant cursed. If Leah was hurt, he’d never forgive himself. I was out there worrying about a truck and she was inside…
He eased toward the backyard. At the edge of the house, he leaned forward just far enough to poke his head around. Thanks to the clearing of the clouds, the moonlight gave him enough light to see.
A man stood by the back door, holding a crowbar as he paced. Grant didn’t waste any time. It didn’t matter if he was a thief, one of Greg’s buddies, or a random stranger. Leah was in trouble.
Stepping fully into the backyard, Grant aimed and fired. The first bullet hit the man in the shoulder and Grant fired again. The intruder crumpled to the ground.
Grant rushed up to the back door and tried the handle. Locked. He frowned and stepped back. It was then he saw the ladder. Harvey always left random equipment in his backyard. A ladder one week. A circular saw the next. Always tinkering, never finishing everything.
The window upstairs stood open. Grant fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. It took all his strength and three well-aimed kicks to knock it down thanks to the door jam.
Tumbling into the room, Grant tripped over something warm and soft. He landed on his knees beside his wife. “Leah!”
She lolled like a rag doll as he flipped her over. No obvious wounds. He felt for a pulse. Steady and strong.
Grant jerked his head up. A man lay on the floor, facedown in a sticky pool of blood. The gunshot.
Past him, Oliver slumped over in a heap. Grant rushed to him. Blue lips and cold fingers, but otherwise fine. His heart still beat.
