by Nathan Jones
“I can't believe that rat Ferris spent the last month feeding Razor and his gang with our food,” the councilwoman muttered, barely audible over the chaos as she and the others lifted Carl onto a soldier's cot. “No, we can't arrest him or run him and his thugs out of camp, but we must make sure they don't miss a meal in the ration line.”
Matt turned his eyes back outside in time to see the same man he'd shot at earlier duck out of cover aiming right for him. He threw himself backwards as a bullet whinged past his ear, and was about to start looking for a new source of cover when Tam yelled to him that she'd got the guy. Matt leaned out, shaking from adrenaline, and fired randomly at one of the few remaining vehicles in the parking lot where he could see the feet of a few men from beneath the undercarriage.
The next couple minutes were pure chaos as Matt did his best to hold his spot, ducking shots when they came his way, as he shot desperately at any targets he saw outside. He was almost certain he missed everything he was aiming for, wasting his bullets, but he had to hope he was at least providing cover for people in the store with better aim.
He'd just finished reloading his .40 with the second to last clip Catherine had given him when a swiftly cut off noise from outside made him freeze in slow mounting horror. It came from the direction of his house, he thought, far away and barely heard over the constant noise of gunshots, but in spite of that he picked it out immediately.
It was Sam's voice, screaming for help.
Matt stood rooted in place at the sound, every single ounce of self control spent forcing himself not to go dashing out into enemy gunfire in response to the heartrending sound. His protective instinct screamed for him to respond to Sam's clear distress, but he needed to think things through rationally.
Why had she screamed? Razor was attacking the storehouse and he hadn't seen her while Ferris was leaving or while going after Anderson, which meant she was either out with his mom gathering food or back at their house. She might have come to investigate the sound of gunfire and seen Tillman's being attacked, and if she knew he was in here she would certainly be worried about him. But if that was the case she wouldn't have screamed since that would only draw attention to herself.
Unless . . .
Matt abandoned his spot at the window and ran over to where Tam had positioned herself along the other wall. “How many people do you see out there?” he demanded.
The petite woman frowned. “Half a dozen or so. Why?”
“It looks like there's seven or eight out front. Razor had over 50 men with him.”
Tam's expression became alarmed. “Wait, you're saying they're just keeping us pinned here? That means they could be trying to find another way in here, or they could be-”
“Attacking the rest of the town that doesn't have weapons to defend themselves,” Matt cut in. That explained Sam's screaming.
More importantly, if she was screaming she must have been in immediate danger and he'd already wasted half a minute. He left Tam at the window and sprinted through the door at the back of the store into the stockroom. On the other side of the room there was a rolling loading door at the back of the building that was shut and locked, and beside it a normal sized door. Both barriers were shaking and thumping to the sound of men trying to break in, while Chauncey and his son Rick crouched behind piles of stuff Ferris had confiscated ready to open fire on the first attackers to make it through.
Matt hurried over to the two men. “Razor's keeping us pinned here while his men attack the rest of the town,” he hissed.
Chauncey went white. “I sent Edna and Wes home to hide! We thought he was only interested in this place.”
The memory of Sam's yelling was making Matt physically sick at how long it was taking him to go to her. “I heard Sam screaming for help,” he snapped. He pointed at the normal sized door. “I need to leave through there!”
“Wait wait wait,” Rick said, almost frantic. “You can't go out that door. Don't you hear them trying to break through?”
“If they're trying to break in they won't expect us to just open the door,” Matt replied in a whisper, sincerely hoping he was right. “Cover me.”
Without waiting for a response he rushed to the door and, holding his Glock ready with one hand, unlocked it with the other and yanked it open. Outside two men holding sledgehammers stood frozen in shock, while behind them two other men holding pump action shotguns who'd been looking nervously to either side began to turn towards him.
Matt emptied his .40 into the four men and they scattered, all thoughts of attacking him vanishing in their need to escape being shot at point-blank. Three went down while the fourth, one with a shotgun, managed to bolt for cover behind the Tillmans' delivery truck. Matt ducked to snatch up the other shotgun with his free hand and pursued the lone survivor, seeing but not caring about the six other men gathered around the loading door. One of them had a rifle, which he did care about, and he burst into an all-out sprint for the same cover behind the truck.
Behind him Chauncey and Rick ducked out the door and began firing at the six men off to the left, who suddenly had bigger issues than attacking Matt. The rifleman got off one shot towards the two Watsons before going down with several bullet holes, but since Matt didn't hear either of his friends cry out in pain he hoped the man had missed.
As Matt reached the cover of the truck he shoved his empty pistol into the front waistband of his pants so he could properly hold the shotgun. He'd gone around the side opposite the thug with the shotgun, and by pure luck the man was so focused on what was behind him that when Matt burst around the back of the truck from the other direction he caught the guy facing the other way.
Matt shot him in the chest before the thug could turn fully around and aim his shotgun. As the man fell Matt racked another shell into the chamber as he bolted for the fence of the house behind Tillman's, desperate to reach Sam.
He knew there were others around who might be a threat but he couldn't afford to waste time, so his only option was to go as fast as he could and run a zigzag pattern as he went. When he reached the fence he dove over it, losing the shotgun as he awkwardly caught himself with his hands and rolled to keep from breaking his neck.
He'd heard plenty of gunfire as he ran, but as far as he knew none of it had been aimed at him. Matt crawled on his stomach back to the fence and picked up the shotgun, checking its feed. He could see at least one shell in there, which meant when he'd pumped the action it had injected another shell into the chamber. That gave him two or more shots. He also had the remaining magazine for the Glock, which he took a moment to reload before shoving it back into his waistband to hold the shotgun.
Even those necessary tasks felt like a waste of time as he pushed to a crouch and hurried across the yard, eyes alert for any threat.
Now that he was outside Matt could see that his fears were confirmed that Razor wasn't just attacking Tillman's Sporting Goods. It looked as if the nondescript psycho had kept half his men there keeping Aspen Hill's defenders pinned down while the rest of his gang spread out ransacking houses.
Matt didn't know what the refugee thugs thought they'd find after a month of Ferris's “inspections”, but almost immediately to his horror he learned that they'd found something they wanted as much as food.
In the direction of his home and Sam's danger, the next house along from the yard he was in, was the Thorntons' residence. At first he thought it was abandoned as he approached the neat rose-lined picket fence leading to it, with the door thrown open and a few bits of furniture strewn over the lawn, but then a muffled noise and a motion by the door made him dive behind the fence in front of him.
A member of Razor's gang emerged from inside dragging the Thorntons' 16 year old daughter Alice by her long blond hair. The girl's face was bloody and she was half naked, begging incoherently between terrified sobs and clutching her hair desperately to keep it from being yanked out at the roots as the thug tossed her onto the front lawn and began fumbling with his grimy pants.<
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The sight enraged Matt, but it also made him almost frantic with panic as he thought of Sam suffering the same fate because he couldn't get to her in time. Still, in spite of his overpowering emotions he forced himself to move smoothly as he set aside the shotgun and carefully rose, propped his arms on the fence, and sighted his .40 on the rapist's center mass.
He couldn't afford to miss and possibly hit Alice, but he had to take the shot. So just like he'd practiced all those times at the range he fired, regained the target and fired again. Immediately after firing the second shot he snatched up the shotgun and hopped over the fence in case anyone was coming up behind him, doing his best to keep his sights on the falling thug as the man crumpled thrashing atop Alice.
The young woman's sobs became screams at the sound of gunshots and the man falling on her, and Matt pocketed his Glock again and hurried over to yank the body away one-handed and check that Razor's thug was dead. He wasn't, yet, but from the looks of things he would be soon.
Alice stared up at him in numb terror. “Run!” he told her, doing his best to keep his voice calm for her sake. “Find someplace to hide and stay there until this is all over.” Without waiting for a response he sprinted across her yard towards his house once more.
“My dad!” she shouted behind him. “He needs help!”
Matt grit his teeth but kept going, calling out an apology over his shoulder. Much as he would've liked to help Mr. Thornton his only thought at the moment was getting to Sam.
The other yards along the street were also strewn with debris from inside the houses, most doors gaping open, but nobody else was in sight so the looters must have moved on. He found out where they'd gone when he reached his house and saw that the front door had been broken open and heard cursing and cries of pain coming from inside.
He sprinted up the porch steps and burst into the living room to a scene of horror. His mom was huddled in one corner clutching her face and coughing phlegmatically. From the looks of it she'd tried to defend herself with bear spray and had her can stolen from her, and her attacker had thoroughly sprayed her with it before discarding the can nearby.
Even more heart-wrenching, in the center of the room Sam was curled in a fetal position clutching her face and trying to twist and writhe out of the grip of two men leaning down to pick her up. Meanwhile a third man stood in front of her with his fist cocked back, ready to punch her once she was lifted high enough.
From her swiftly swelling and blackening eye and the bleeding gash along the third man's forearm, inflicted by a bloody knife kicked out of the way in another corner, it was obvious Sam had tried to defend herself and had injured the looter. But her attempts had only made them angry, and now they were in no hurry as they took their time punishing her.
Matt took all that in the moment he stepped through the door, also seeing that there was no way he'd be able to get a shot off without risking hitting the woman he loved. He dropped the shotgun at the same time the third man, annoyed at Sam's struggles, kicked her solidly in the stomach with all his weight behind it, nearly knocking her out of the hands of his friends.
At that Matt's rational mind vanished and he unthinkingly charged the trio, digging into his other pocket for the bear spray as he went. One of the thugs holding Sam let go of her and leaned over to pick up an ugly club from the couch. It was made of rebar with a cloth tied around one end for a handle, and the man swung it even as he charged to meet Matt.
Matt sprayed him right in the face, barely pausing as the man dropped his weapon and went down with a strangled, choking scream. Matt bent to pick up the discarded club without slowing, lifting it to swing down at the third looter who was just now abandoning his attack on Sam and turning to meet him.
The thug had a police baton hanging from his belt, but before he'd done more than reach for it Matt slammed the length of rebar into his head with all the rage of watching this monster hurt the woman he loved behind the swing. It hit with a solid crunch he felt all the way up his arm and the man went down like a rag doll.
The second man holding Sam pushed her away to crumple to the floor, backing away as Matt turned for him and reaching into the front waistband of his pants to pull out a revolver. Matt froze mid-charge as the looter lifted the gun to point at his chest, although his senses screamed for him to keep going and at least try to bring the looter down before he went down himself to keep his loved ones from any further harm.
Razor's gang member swore at him and squeezed the trigger.
Just before the gun went off Sam, huddled in a ball at his feet, desperately kicked out at his shins with both her legs. The thug stumbled as the gunshot crashed around the room, deafening in the small space, and Matt felt a sting like a dozen bees along his upper arm.
He leapt towards the falling man, swinging his club down with all his strength. It hit the looter's gun arm, breaking it with a sickening snap and sending the weapon flying away. The thug, who was younger than Matt had expected, probably no older than late teens, curled up around his injured limb whimpering. In spite of his rage Matt couldn't bring himself to hit the looter like he had the other man, so he dropped the crude club and fell to his knees, hitting the looter solidly in the face with his fist. Then again, and again, and finally one last time as the kid slumped unconscious to the floor.
A noise at the door turned him in time to see the looter he'd sprayed stumble outside, still coughing and hacking. Matt yanked the Glock from his waistband and strode towards the door, already lifting it to fire.
“Matt,” a weak voice behind him said. He turned to see Sam, hunched around her hurt stomach looking at him pleadingly, and felt his heart breaking at her bruises and the pain in her eyes. “Don't go, please.”
Matt wanted nothing more than to rush to her and gather her in his arms, but the attack wasn't over yet. “He could hurt someone else.”
“After getting a face full of bear spray? He's not going to care about anything but finding a place to suffer in peace.” Matt couldn't believe she could sound so calm after what she'd been through. She held out her hand for him. “Please.”
His indecision vanished and he shoved the gun back into his waistband and rushed over to her, dropping to the ground beside her so he could gather her in and hold her tight. As soon as his arms closed around her shoulders Sam's show of composure vanished and she collapsed limply against his chest, breaking into gasping sobs.
“Oh thank God, Matt,” she cried. “Thank God. I've never been so terrified in my life.”
“It's all right,” he murmured, stroking her dark hair. “It's all right now. Are you seriously hurt?”
She shook her head against his arm. “It hurts so bad, but I don't think it's anything serious.”
Matt turned to look at his mom, who was still huddled in the corner coughing and retching. The sight rekindled his rage. “Mom? Are you okay?”
She managed to catch her breath long enough to answer. “I will be with some water,” she mumbled. “I wish Ed was here.”
Matt held out his arm and she came to kneel beside him so he could enfold her in his embrace as well. “I'm sorry,” he whispered to them both. “I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry for what they did to you.”
At that Sam calmed a bit and looked fiercely into his eyes. “You stopped them!” she said fiercely. “You came for us, that's all that matters.”
He tenderly lifted a thumb to brush beneath Sam's bruised eye. It looked like it was going to swell shut. “Not soon enough,” he said, ashamed of his failure to protect her. “When I heard your screams from Tillman's I came as fast as I could, every moment terrified at what I was going to find.” The dark-haired woman dropped her head to rest against his shoulder again, taking his hand and holding it with both of hers, and he hugged her and his mom tighter to him. “But it's all over now.”
With a last shuddering breath Sam pushed away from him and came up to her knees, looking around the room. With a pained groan she managed to push to her feet, waving away Matt's
efforts to help her, and hobbled over to pick up the revolver the kid had dropped. “It's not over yet,” she said grimly. “The town's still under attack, isn't it?”
Matt kissed his mom on the cheek before also standing, looking down at the two men he'd taken out, then at his beloved as he thought about what had nearly happened to her. “I can't leave you here by yourselves after this.”
“You have to! What about April and Terry and the boys? The looters will be headed their way.” Sam fumbled a bit until she managed to flip open the revolver's chamber and check inside. The number of bullets seemed to satisfy her because she pushed it back shut again and lifted it to aim down the sights at the door. “We've got this now, and also the house'll look looted like the others so they shouldn't come around again. Besides, if the town falls we won't be safe anyway.” She turned to give him a fierce look. “We'll be fine, Matt. Go. Help your sister's family.”
He nodded, but before he left he gathered Sam into his arms again. “I love you,” he said quietly. “I love you right down to the depths of my soul. Please, please stay safe.” He turned to look at his mom, who was still slumped wheezing where he'd left her. He'd have to have Terry look her over as soon as possible. “Both of you, stay safe.”
Sam hugged him back tightly, lifting her bruised face to look at him with tearful eyes as she raised onto her toes to press her lips to his. “I love you,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. “Don't you dare die out there or I'll never forgive you!”
He reluctantly backed away, doing his best to hide his fear that if he left he'd come back to find a tragedy. Before he went he took a moment to tie up the kid he'd punched out and check the looter he'd hit with the club. From the looks of things tying that one up wouldn't be necessary, so Matt dragged him out of the house with some effort and hid him in the shed.
