Shortage (Best Laid Plans Book 2)

by Nathan Jones

  He came back outside to find Sam standing on the porch holding the shotgun. “Take this with you,” she insisted. “You'll need it more than we will, and Terry can use it to defend his family.”

  Matt nodded and strode over to take it. He'd completely forgot about the weapon. Sam gave him one last anguished look before ducking back into the house to kneel comfortingly beside his mother, although she still gripped the revolver tightly.

  * * * * *

  By running through backyards and staying behind cover Matt was able to make it to Tom Watts's house without running into any more looters. When he threw open the door he nearly got sprayed by Terry, who was crouched behind the couch with a can aimed at him. He could hear the sounds of his nephews asking anxious questions somewhere upstairs while his sister frantically hushed them.

  “Matt!” his brother-in-law exclaimed, lowering the spray with relief. “What's going on out there? All we've heard is gunshots and screaming. It sounds like a war zone.”

  “Razor is attacking the town with dozens of men,” Matt answered. Upstairs he could hear his nephews shouting his name with relief and excitement, and ignoring April's angry shouts for him to come back Aaron came bursting down the stairs to throw his arms around Matt's waist, staring at the shotgun he held with wide eyes.

  Matt hugged his nephew tight for a moment, then pried his arms free. “Go back upstairs,” he said sternly. The boy started to complain and he made his voice even more firm. “Now. This is important.”

  Sulking, Aaron stomped back up the stairs. In a way Matt was relieved that the child didn't realize how serious the situation was, and hoped he wouldn't have to see anything that changed that. He locked the door behind him and posted up beside the window, handing the shotgun to Terry and pulling out his Glock as he stared outside. He didn't see anyone out there.

  Calming down a bit, he explained everything that had happened, loud enough for April to hear upstairs, as he continued to keep watch. In spite of his relief at finding his sister's family safe he kept seeing his mom struggling to breathe and Sam's bruised face and reliving what he'd seen when he came through the door. It was safe here for the moment, but his parents' house was only a block from where the fighting was thickest. Now that Terry had the shotgun and Matt saw that things were quiet here his instincts screamed for him to get back home.

  Terry seemed to understand. “We seem to be out of the fighting here,” he offered. “We'll do our best to stay hidden, and if anyone comes after us we've got the bear spray and this.” He said that last while lifting the shotgun a bit.

  Matt nodded. “Stay safe. And once this is all over try to get to our house. I'm worried about Mom.”

  After receiving a few fearful farewells he ducked out of the house and started back the way he'd come. But he'd only gone a block before a commotion ahead drew him out of the Millers' backyard to peer at the street from behind a fence.

  Razor and a dozen men were retreating down it, ducking from cover to cover and shooting back towards the storehouse. It looked as if their attempts to pin down Catherine and the others had failed, which was good news. The fact that they'd retreated past Matt's house was also possibly good news, as long as they hadn't taken a detour and no stray shots had caused Sam and his mom trouble.

  “Go around!” Razor abruptly yelled at a couple of his thugs, shoving them. “Come on, guys, we've got the entire town and they're following us along one street! Haven't you idiots heard of flanking?”

  Matt stiffened as the two thugs bolted for the house one down from the Millers, vaulting the fence not ten feet from him. He still had 13 rounds in his last magazine, assuming it had been loaded to capacity. Since both were carrying guns he couldn't let them sneak around behind the others and catch them by surprise, so he raised his Glock and fired.

  One went down with a surprised cry of pain while the other ducked down behind the fence, cursing. Matt tried shooting at the fence itself, but he wasn't sure if he hit anything since the cursing continued. He was about to duck back behind his own fence and try to find a new place to shoot from when motion from the street caught his eye and he saw Razor pointing his small caliber pistol at him.

  There was no time to do anything but let his legs buckle and drop behind the fence. He heard a quieter gunshot and something tugged at his hair, and then he was on the ground panting.

  “Did I get you, Matt?” the psycho yelled. “I almost hope I didn't. I want to peel the skin off you one strip at a time.” There was another flurry of gunshots from down the street, and Razor abruptly swore bitterly. “Forget this, everyone break free and head south! We'll regroup by the stream!”

  Matt heard the slap of footfalls and a few more exchanged gunshots, and he finally found his wits and bolted around the house to the other side. He was in time to see Razor and most of his gang break left down a street and burst into a sprint to put as much distance between them and their pursuit as possible, disappearing out of sight before Matt could lift his gun to point at a target.

  He was so focused on the gang leader that he almost didn't notice the man vaulting the fence behind him, the one he'd shot at but hadn't hit.

  Whirling, Matt didn't have time to properly aim and just sprayed bullets in that direction. By some miracle one hit the thug in the chest and he went down with a cry, and Matt rushed over and kicked the gun from his hand, then stood over the man as he gurgled and twitched for a few moments before going still.

  It was horrible, watching him die. Even though Matt had acted in self defense and had little doubt about whether this man deserved his fate, the horrific sight was enough to turn his stomach. He staggered a few steps away and fell, retching.

  Calls from the street, voices he recognized, dragged him back to his senses. Matt lurched back to his feet and stumbled over to pick up the dead man's gun, then went in search of the other thug he'd shot to make sure he was dead as well and collect his weapon.

  He almost got shot in the process, as Catherine and a dozen Aspen Hill residents moved down the street in pursuit of Razor. Chauncey, clutching a shotgun that might've been claimed from the man Matt had killed by the truck, had seen him and instinctively opened fire.

  “Don't shoot!” Matt yelled as the fence beside him blew apart. He hastily stood from his inspection of the dead gang member and let the man's gun, along with his Glock, drop from his hands. “It's me, I'm on your side!”

  “Matt?” Chauncey said, hastily pointing his shotgun at the ground. The former teacher went white as he realized what he'd almost done. “Matt, I-I didn't think. I just-”

  “It's fine,” Matt said, feeling slightly dizzy now as well as nauseous as his panicked mind worked its way to a full realization of what had almost happened. “I should've let you know I was here.”

  Chauncey's eyes dropped to the thug at Matt's feet. “That's who I thought I was shooting at,” he said lamely.

  From up the street Catherine shouted. “Come on! You heard Razor, he's headed for the south side of town! We can't give him a chance to regroup and try anything else!”

  Matt hastily stooped to pick up his dropped weapons, wondering what he was going to do with three handguns, all empty as far as he knew. He shoved them into his waistband and both front pockets and ran to join Chauncey as they followed the councilwoman up the street.

  “Here,” the older man said, pulling his .45 off the holster at his hip. “I've got the shotgun.” He patted the straps of the pack on his back. “And if you've got any weight to unload I'll take it.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Matt hastily transferred his two new guns into the backpack, barely even aware of what kind they were, then tucked the offered .45 into his waistband while he checked his Glock. It still had five or six bullets, from what he could tell. “I don't suppose you have any extra magazines or .45 or .40 ammo?”

  “Sorry.” Chauncey grimaced. “This is a complete mess, isn't it? Is your family okay?”

  “I think so.” Matt tore his mind away from thoughts of those fir
st moments through the shattered front door when he'd seen his mom and Sam. “Yours?”

  “I sent Rick to check. Razor's looters looked like they were going a different way, though, so I think they're safe.”

  They caught up to the rest of the group and Matt hurried forward to walk beside Catherine, Chauncey close behind. “I saw Razor booking it south along this street,” he said. “He might've changed his mind and set up an ambush, or left some people behind to attack us, but I think it might be safe to go faster.”

  The councilwoman nodded. “Could you take Chauncey and go a street over, then run ahead? I don't want to get caught by surprise.”

  Matt glanced at the retired teacher, who sighed. “I'm too old for running,” he complained. But he took off at a jog for the nearest intersection as Matt hurried to catch up to him. They went fast, outpacing the Aspen Hill residents coming along the street behind them, and before too long they were on the next street running along it, peering anxiously through the yards and across gaps towards the street they'd just left. They made it three blocks without seeing anyone.

  He almost missed it, passing along a plank fence running beside the sidewalk they were on. But one of the planks was missing and Matt slowed to peer through it, only to stop dead with ice trickling down his spine.

  The yard he was looking into was fenced in on all sides, and along the fence on the opposite side four men were hiding, guns ready.

  Razor had been bluffing with his talk of regrouping at the stream south of town. He'd planned to make it look like he was running to lure the residents of Aspen Hill into an ambush. Beside him Chauncey looked through the fence and saw what he saw, then groaned. “Radios,” he muttered. “I knew we should've passed out radios before we left! But we didn't even have enough time to bring extra ammunition for our guns!”

  Matt ignored him. He had no idea how close behind him Catherine and her group was. They could be walking into the trap even now. He shoved Chauncey. “Go around the block and see if you can find Catherine.”

  Without waiting for a response, or even for the older man to recover his balance, Matt threw back his head and yelled at the top of his lungs. “AMBUSH! Razor's leading you into an ambush!”

  Through the gap in the fence he saw the four thugs curse and whirl towards him. Matt shoved Chauncey's .45 into the hole and began firing at them, sending them all ducking for cover even though he missed spectacularly.

  The retired teacher was still standing next to him. “For the love of-could you have found a way to warn them without giving away our position?” Without waiting for a response he finally bolted for the intersection back the way they'd come to do as Matt had asked. Or maybe just to get away.

  Matt turned and ran the other way. Razor had the right idea with flanking, and if everyone's attention was on Catherine's group coming up the street, or where Matt had been shouting the next street over, then he might be able to catch someone by surprise. He reached the end of the block, where the fence continued sharply at a 90 degree angle to follow the intersecting sidewalk, and pelted around the corner with his .45 ready to bring to bear on the first target he saw.

  In time to see Razor, not three feet away, raise his small caliber pistol to aim at Matt's face and pull the trigger.

  In the eternity that followed Matt heard a click instead of a bang, and in the brief moment where they both stared at each other in surprise he desperately lifted his .45 to shoot the gang leader point blank. He managed to get one shot off, hitting Razor in the hip, before the psycho knocked his .45 out of his hands. With a feral grin the gang leader yanked the straight razor out of his pocket, not even seeming to feel the gunshot he'd just taken, and slashed at him.

  Matt fell backwards and time seemed to slow around him as he frantically scrabbled in his coat pocket with his free hand to pull out the bear spray. He probably should've reached for the Glock in his waistband instead, but the bear spray was an old familiar habit and in that panicked moment his first instinct.

  Razor dove for him, slashing again, and in desperation Matt kicked with both feet and held the man back just long enough to aim the spray and shoot.

  A searing pain along his leg told him Razor had got in a cut, but his spray hit home and the gang leader howled and fell off to the side, his weapon flying out of his hands. Matt dropped the spray and went after the shaving razor, even as Razor blindly caught at his legs and pulled Matt down on top of him. The smaller man flailed at him blindly, tearing Matt's skin with his fingernails, while Matt stretched for all he was worth until his fingers closed around the razor's handle.

  He hunched and twisted, and as Razor stared at him through bloodshot eyes Matt plunged the man's namesake into his throat.

  The gang leader let him go and began thrashing and gurgling in his death throes. Matt scrambled away, not quite believing what had just happened, and went after his .45. His fingers had just closed around the grip when he heard a scream from farther down the street.

  “Razor's dead! They got him!”

  Matt heard some yells and cursing from the other side of the fence he stood beside, farther down near the street ahead, then the four members of Razor's gang he'd seen earlier vaulted over it and fled south down the street, outright running in panic. Without their leader it looked as if the fight was over.

  Relieved, he dragged himself to his feet with his pistol clutched in his hand and limped along the sidewalk to follow the thugs and make sure they didn't stop running until they were well out of town.

  He was almost to the street when a knot of Aspen Hill residents burst past him, Catherine in front. The councilwoman whirled towards him, lifting her weapon, and Matt froze, expecting to be the target of friendly fire for the second time in less than fifteen minutes. Luckily she recognized him and stopped. Then her eyes widened as she looked past him to where Razor lay.

  “It's true, he's dead!” she called, lowering her weapon and rushing towards Matt. She dropped into a crouch, tearing off the sleeve of her shirt to wrap around the deep cut Razor had made just above his knee, and called over her shoulder. “Someone go get Terry and tell him we have wounded, including his brother-in-law! The rest of you keep chasing those monsters out of our town!”

  Chapter Eight

  Aftermath

  The fighting that started so brutally had a grim ending. Some of Razor's thugs ended up running after their leader died, others got surrounded and fought until the very end or surrendered. More skulked from house to house looting and committing atrocities and then vanished through the outskirts of town when a group was assembled to flush them out.

  All in all 31 refugees were killed and 11 wounded, while 7 had been taken prisoner and were being held in the back of the storehouse until the rest of the town could be completely secured and they could be transferred over to the cells beneath the town hall.

  Among the townspeople the numbers were nearly reversed, with 26 injured, 14 killed, and dozens unaccounted for who had likely fled the town to escape the fighting. Matt was saddened to learn that three women hadn't been as fortunate as Sam and Alice, and a dozen more would've faced the same fate if their attackers had found the time during the chaos. A small group of teenaged girls had been kidnapped, tied and gagged and kept under guard by a few members of Razor's gang who ended up running away after his death. If the thugs could be said to have any saving grace, it was that in spite of their barbarity at the very least they'd left the terrified girls unharmed when they fled.

  Another sad loss that struck the town hard were the newlyweds Andrew and Kristy Metford, married only a few weeks before the Gulf refineries attack. The town's defenders going door to door to make sure everyone was all right found the young couple on the couch in their living room, their house one of the first the looters visited. It looked as if neither one had even realized there was any danger until members of Razor's gang broke through the door and murdered them in cold blood before going on to loot the house.

  Andrew's father Abel arrived too late
to save them, although Matt heard he'd gone after the looters on his own and played a big part in driving them out of town. Those that escaped his wrath, that is. He would've pursued any who fled out beyond Aspen Hill's borders if one of the groups Catherine had sent out to secure the town hadn't convinced him to come back with them.

  In the aftermath the townspeople were stirred to a boil by the atrocities committed in the attack, and many of those who'd gathered in front of Tillman's Sporting Goods were shouting that they should go out to the refugee camp and drive the rest of the refugees away, then resume the roadblocks and patrols to make sure they stayed away.

  For his part Matt's own blood was still boiling at what had been done to his mom and Sam, and even worse what his beloved almost suffered. The thought of it was enough to make him want to lead the charge to the camp.

  Not that he was in any shape to charge anywhere at the moment, laid down on one of the cots Ferris's soldiers had slept on inside the store when it had been their headquarters. Terry had his hands full trying to help the more seriously wounded, including Carl Raymond. He was helped by April, Chauncey, Sam, and a few others. Matt's mom was there as well, seated on a camp chair near where Terry worked and reading to her grandsons through puffy red eyes. To his relief she looked much recovered from the pepper spray, although she blew her nose often and frequently dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  After a quick look at Matt's cut Terry had told him to rinse it out thoroughly with mild soap and water, then bind it tightly again until he found time to stitch it up. Bad as the wound was it wasn't life threatening, which put Matt low on the list of people who needed his immediate attention. With that advice his brother-in-law went back to the more seriously wounded.