The Sheriff and his men were back.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Dashing for the kitchen, Daniel brought his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose, coughing as smoke rose from the fires in and around the living room window and on the front porch. He was fairly certain two additional fires were on the roof as well, but hadn’t had a chance to check.
Opening the cabinet under the sink, he reached in and grabbed the small CO2 fire extinguisher. Turning back, he raced outside, motioning for the others to follow him.
On the porch, he pulled the pin from the CO2 bottle and handed it to Ashley, pointing at the fire that was burning the side of the house around the window. “Point it at the base of the fire and squeeze the handle! Use as little as possible, then put out that one, too, if you can!”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got a small extinguisher in the Jeep! Paul, meet me there!” Daniel charged back into the house, holding his shirt tightly against his mouth. He rushed to the closet and pulled out a pair of heavy wool blankets. Not bothering to close the door, he ran back out the front door across the porch and around the side of the house as Ashley sprayed CO2 at the fire in short bursts.
Reaching the Jeep, he threw open the door and grabbed the small fire extinguisher from underneath the passenger seat. It was a small, two pound extinguisher, not meant for anything like what they were facing, but it couldn’t hurt.
“Come on!” He yelled at Paul as he climbed on top of the Jeep. Balancing himself for a second, he threw the two blankets on top of the cabin, then leaped from the top of the Jeep to the wood shingled surface of the roof, holding the fire extinguisher in his hand. He looked back and watched as the young man made the leap as well, clearing the gap easily. Daniel handed him the cylinder. “You heard my directions, right?”
“Yeah!”
“Okay, let’s go!” He grabbed the two blankets and rushed to the top of the house. As he’d guessed, two fires burned on the roof, one above the living room, one above the kitchen. Neither had broken through yet, but it likely wouldn’t be long before holes appeared.
Pointing to the fire on the left, which was above the kitchen, he yelled, “Take that one! Don’t get too close, the roof might have weakened!” Turning away, he took the blankets with him as he cautiously approached the fire. Bringing them back over his shoulder, he brought them down together, beating at the flames as he tried to push oxygen away from the fire’s base. The heat from the flames pushed upwards, forcing him back, but he pressed forward, slapping the blankets down again and again. Behind him he heard Paul using small bursts as he tried to extinguish the fire above the kitchen.
“Help me with this one, I’ve almost got it!” The young man cried out.
Turning away, Daniel rushed over to where Paul was. As the young man had said, he’d managed to reduce the fire to a small circle, but with the canister empty, he had nothing left to fight it with. Repeating his method, Daniel beat down the fire, forcing the oxygen away. Within seconds, it was out.
Turning back, his heart sank. The fire above the living room was spreading.
“Shit!”
“Daniel! Here!”
Looking down towards the front of the house, he saw Douglas on the porch, extending another large fire extinguisher towards him. ‘Thank God!’ Daniel threw himself down and reached out, grabbing the handle of the fire extinguisher. It was a ten pound cylinder, with plenty of CO2 for the blaze. Rolling back over, he began working his way around the fire, sending short bursts of powder towards its base, suffocating the fire bit by bit. He worked steadily, conserving the powder as much as possible until he was sure he’d gotten all of it.
When the fire was out, he was drenched with sweat and exhausted from the over expenditure of adrenaline. Setting the fire extinguisher aside, he turned and sat down on the roof.
And fell through.
He felt the roof give way, and before he could react, his body, accompanied by burned bits of shingles and charred pieces of the home’s frame, were falling. Daniel landed half-on, half-off the couch, catching the front edge along the center of his back before bouncing forward and landing face down on the floor. The shingles and wood landed atop him, a brown and black mess covering his frame.
“Fuck.”
Ashley and Brenna rushed in, followed by Douglas. “Are you okay, Dad?” Brenna asked, rushing to his side.
Rolling over, Daniel grunted. “Yeah. Couch broke my fall. Dammit! I broke the damn roof.”
Douglas spoke up. “It’s alright Daniel. We’ll fix it. ‘Til then we can put a tarp over it.”
Paul walked in, accompanied by Janice. Daniel knew she’d been on the hill, hidden from sight, firing arrows at the men who’d tried to circle their home, but from the looks of her, you’d never guess it. Her clothes were clean, her hair still neat, her body devoid of signs of sweat. The woman didn’t even look out of breath.
Bringing himself to a seated position on the floor, Daniel looked at the five of them. When he spoke, he left no doubt of his conviction.
“We’re going to get them back.”
Although he’d wanted to go immediately, Douglas had successfully talked him into taking time to make a plan, as opposed to going in with guns blazing. Though he hated the delay, the rational side of Daniel, which tended to disappear in moments of anger, saw the wisdom in the man’s words. There was simply too much at stake.
Together, they descended the hill and made their way into Douglas and Janice’s house, where they sat around the dining table and discussed options. Janice listened and provided input as she brought them pitchers of ice tea and mounds of dried deer meat, a massive plate piled high with homemade bread, and two bowls of berries. Daniel, Douglas, and Janice strategized as the group ate, talking through potential challenges and coming up with creative solutions.
When they’d answered every question, Douglas looked around the table at Daniel, Ashley, Brenna, and Paul.
“Are you sure you’re up for this? You’re all tired.”
Daniel nodded, looking around to make sure there were no dissenting opinions.
“So are they, and they think they’ve won, so they’ll let their guard down. We hit ‘em, we hit ‘em hard.
“We hit ‘em tonight.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE
Smiling broadly, Kyle watched as Grayson pulled the Asian woman inside. She stumbled slightly, looking dazed and weak as she was dragged into the lobby.
“Here you go, buddy!” Halwell shouted triumphantly, beaming with pride. “I told you we’d get her!”
Crossing the distance between them, Kyle looked up and down at the woman’s body. It looked as good as he’d remembered. He couldn’t wait to see it naked. “Nice! Thanks, boss!”
“Here, why don’t you take her to your room? She’s still a bit dazed from the flash bang Ricky used, apparently she hit her head on the floor, but that should just make her a little easier to deal with, right?”
“Yeah, it would, but you know, I think I want her to be fully aware of what’s going on. I’ll stick her in my room, and deal with her a little later.” Looking over at the young Mexican girl that Ricky had hauled into the room, he added, “I’m guessing we need to celebrate.”
“Fuck yeah, we do!” Halwell said as he headed for the bar in the lobby. “We kicked their asses and got what we went there for, then lit their fucking house on fire. Let’s have a fucking drink!”
“Sounds good, boss. Let me put this bitch in my room, then I’ll be back.”
Serafina continued to fake disorientation as the man dragged her down the hall towards his room. She ignored his crude comments about her body as if she hadn’t heard them, all the while fantasizing about the prospect of sinking the blade of her knife into his heart. These men were evil, and she’d have no qualms over killing one or all of them if she had the chance.
Right now, she didn’t, though. Right now she had to play along. Bide time. Wait for the right opportunity.
H
alfway down the hall, she saw a blonde woman look out of a room, her eyes wide with fear. Behind the woman was a short girl who appeared to have Down’s Syndrome.
Glancing over, the man pulling Serafina barked at the woman. “I suggest you put your daughter to bed, Shelly. Luke’s back and I’m sure he’s gonna want some company tonight after all they’ve been through.”
Nodding the woman turned back to the girl, speaking to her softly as Serafina and the man continued along the hall. At the second to last door, the man reached out and turned the knob, opening the door into one of the lodge’s suites. He pushed Serafina forward, past the living room area and into the adjoining bedroom, which was nothing more than a bed next to a closet with sliding mirrored doors. Above the bed, high on the wall, were a series of small square windows. Across from the bed there was a TV mounted on the wall above the dresser. Along the other wall, an open door led to the bathroom.
As he pushed her into the room, he reached behind his back, pulled out his gun, and pointed it at her. “Hand over whatever you’ve got in the back of your shirt.”
Cursing to herself, Serafina reached behind her back and grasped the zipper of the shirt pocket.
“Slowly.” The man cautioned.
Serafina pulled the zipper aside, reached into her pocket, and withdrew the folded knife. Glancing up at the man, she saw the barrel of the gun tracking her every move. ‘No chance of getting to him before he shoots,’ she thought, bringing her hand in front of her. Looking down, she reached out and passed the knife to the man.
Keeping the gun trained on her, he leaned forward and took the knife, his eyes never leaving her. Sliding the folded knife into his pocket, he grinned at her, then pointed towards the bathroom. “Soap and water in there. Clean yourself up ‘fore I come back.”
As he turned to leave, he paused, shaking his head. He looked back at her.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t test me. You and me gotta lotta stuff to catch up on. You don’t want me in a bad mood.” With that, he left, slamming the door behind him. She heard him insert a key into the knob, locking it.
Walking over to the bed, Serafina turned and looked at the locked door. She was sure she could pick the lock, given the right tools, but she didn’t have anything even remotely resembling the right tools.
Looking up at the windows, she saw they were way too small for her to squeeze through. She went to the bathroom and checked the windows there, finding them to be too small as well.
There was no way out.
Her eyes settled on the dresser. No help there. ‘What, are you gonna hit him with a drawer, Sera?’ she asked herself. Lowering her head, something caught her eye. ‘What the - ?’ She brought her eyes up and looked more closely at the handles of the drawers. The far left drawer handle was loose. Sliding off the bed she went to the drawer and grabbed the handle. There was considerable play on the movement of the handle. She opened the drawer. Inside, she could see the threads of the screws clearly. Reaching in, she tested one of the screws to see if she could back it out. It resisted at first, but eventually gave way, spinning in her fingers.
Gazing down at her boot, she had an idea.
Standing near the bar, a drink in his hand, Harold watched as Sheriff Halwell walked towards him, smiling widely. The man was clearly happy with how things had gone, even though they’d lost ten men in the assault. ‘He also didn’t lose part of his fucking ear and get a big ass burn on the side of his face,’ Harold said to himself, smiling back at the man as he approached.
“Good job, Harold. I hear you helped Ricky break in.” Halwell raised his glass. “I gotta say, buddy, I had my doubts about you, but you’ve proven to be a valuable part of this team.”
Slightly put off by how Ricky had spun the story of what had happened at the cabin - he had, after all, been the one who’d led them towards the back of the house, and the one who’d chanced a look inside, only to have the top of his ear blown off and the side of his head burned - he smiled and raised his glass in return. “Thanks, boss. Glad to be part of the team.”
Halwell drank from the glass, closing his eyes as he savored the whiskey. Opening them, he tilted his head to the side, evaluating the side of Harold’s head. “Looks rough. You should get whatshername to check it out.”
Harold nodded in response, still grimacing. “Yeah, burns pretty bad. Probably needs to be wrapped.” He silently hoped that the one good thing from the injury would be the chance for Wanda to see what he’d sacrificed in helping the men capture the prisoners. He’d put it all on the line, got hurt, but survived and played an important role in the effort.
Looking towards the hall, he set his glass down on the bar. “Maybe I’ll go see her now.”
Halwell reached out and grabbed his arm. He swallowed his whiskey, then pointed across the room with one of the fingers that held his glass. “She’s over there.”
Turning to look across the room, Harold saw his wife standing there, smiling and holding a drink.
Standing next to her with a drink in his hand, was Ricky, laughing and joking with the people around him.
The man’s left arm was around Wanda’s waist.
Logan Matthews looked out from the kitchen, observing the men as they drank and talked, reliving the battle they’d been through. As the night went on, their voices got louder and the challenge they’d face was inflated. From what he could tell, they’d been up against 10 - 12 armed men, all possibly soldiers, and they’d come back victorious. The fact that their ranks were considerably smaller than when they left was never addressed.
As he finished scrubbing the last pan, he looked down at his wrist, forgetting that they’d taken his watch. Sighing, he turned and looked towards the battery powered clock on the wall. It was nearly ten p.m. and he was tired. The next day would start early, as the days before it had, so he needed to get some rest.
Hanging his apron on the hook by the dishwashing area, he dried his hands on a towel, then walked over to the guard.
“I’m finished.”
The man glanced at him briefly, his attention focused on the young girl Heather, who was bending over at the waist nearby as she reached for a box of potato chips. “Get outta here,” the man replied, nodding towards the door.
“Thanks.” Logan walked by, fighting the desire to plant his fist squarely in the man’s esophagus.
‘Time and place, Logan. Time and place.’ He pushed through the door and stepped out into the hallway. The group in the lobby had decreased over time and was now down to the Sheriff and five other people: Kyle, Ricky, Wanda, a man named Jerry, and the black man who went by Harold. As he watched, Ricky and Wanda peeled away from the group, heading past where he stood, leaning into each other as they made their way to Ricky’s room.
Putting his head down, Logan walked past the couple, heading to his room.
Diesel’s heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway as he made his way towards his suite. It’d been a long day, and he was looking forward to a quick rinse, followed by another round of sex with Renee, the woman he’d chosen the first night at the lodge. He’d fully expected the Sheriff to balk at him taking her, seeing as how the woman was undeniably gorgeous, but the man had simply nodded, perhaps realizing that Diesel’s presence on his team was important to his long term success.
Looking down at his shoulder, he realized he still needed to clean and bandage his wound. He slowed his steps briefly, contemplating going back to find the woman named Wanda, but remembered that she and Ricky had been getting pretty handsy with each other. ‘Probably banging by now,’ he thought, shaking his head. He decided he’d just have the Renee woman fix it up for him.
Throwing open the door to his room, he called out for the woman. “Hey, get in here!” He threw the door closed behind him, making it shake in its frame, then crossed to the sofa in long strides. Sitting down, he called out for her again as he began untying the laces on his boots. “I said, get in here, bitch!”
When she hadn’t emerged from the bedroo
m by the time he finished untying his boot, he stood up from the couch, muttering to himself. “ God dammit.” Out of frustration, he shoved the couch sideways, sending it sliding several feet across the floor. Storming over to the bedroom, he pushed the door open.
The woman’s body hung limply from the exposed beam in the rafters. Around her neck, a sheet had been tied in a noose. Her eyes stared into nothingness. Below her, a puddle of urine had soaked into his bed.
“Son of a bitch…”
Lying in her bed with the covers pulled over her head, Shelly listened as the men in the lobby partied, getting louder and louder as they consumed copious amounts of alcohol. As the evening wore on, the voices began decreasing in number as the men headed to their rooms, intent on getting some sleep, or, in some cases, using the women they’d forced into service.
Across from her, Grace slept noisily, snoring as she always did. The girl had wanted to sleep in Shelly’s bed, but she’d gently refused, making up an excuse.
“Sorry, sweetie, momma’s back hurts from working. I need to be able to stretch out.”
The girl had lowered her eyes, nodding her head as she jutted out her lower lip, pouting. “Okay, Momma.”
Shelly reached out and stroked the girl’s hair before bringing her hand down to lift the girl’s chin so they could see eye to eye. “Tomorrow night, baby.”
Grace smiled widely, happy again in an instant. “Okay, Momma!” She turned away and jumped into bed, bouncing on the mattress. She threw the covers over herself and nestled her head in the pillow. Within minutes, she was snoring.
In truth, it wasn’t just Shelly’s back that hurt. It was everything.
‘Maybe he’ll be too drunk tonight…’ she silently hoped, freezing everytime she heard footsteps in the hallway. She needed time to recover. To heal . She was beginning to worry the man would do permanent damage to her down there.
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 75
