B00BDBO28Q EBOK

by Patrick D'orazio

  “Bobby! Go back in the house and lock the door. Do it now.” There was not much enthusiasm in the command.

  “Daddy?” Bobby looked at his father, but his rifle never left Jeff and Megan.

  Fred looked at his son, his voice deflated. “Just do it, son. Get back in the house.”

  For a moment, Bobby goggled at his father, his mouth wide open and his eyes blinking rapidly. Then he started slowly moving off the porch.

  Fred turned toward his son, forgetting the gun pointed at him for a moment as anger colored his face. “Robert Charles Harrington! Get your ass back in that house right this minute!” Bobby froze and stared for a moment before his eyes turned to Jeff and Megan.

  The hope Jeff had that things might actually turn out okay disappeared the instant he saw the look on Bobby’s face.

  The kid moved toward him. The rifle was aimed at his head and didn’t waver.

  Jeff shoved Megan behind him as the boy moved closer. Bobby was within three feet, but almost all of the remaining distance was covered by the barrel of his rifle. Megan saw Jeff’s hands motioning for her to move away, to run, to do something.

  Fred continued to yell at his son from where he stood next to the van, but it was clear to Jeff that Bobby had decided to take things into his own hands.

  “Tell whoever’s in the van to let my father go.”

  His voice was steady. Bobby kept ignoring his father and pointed the rifle at Jeff’s forehead.

  Suddenly, Fred stopped yelling. He was still gawking at his son, but his face had changed. He looked afraid.

  “Bobby.” Fred’s voice was as steady as he could make it, the anger gone. “Bobby, listen to me. I made a mistake, a big mistake. I...I’m sorry son.” Fred looked back into the van for a moment. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. You know that. I just wanted...I just wanted to find a way out of here.”

  The words got Bobby’s attention. He kept the rifle pointed at Jeff, but his eyes darted to his father. He was close enough to see the fear in his dad’s eyes. His head cocked sideways, and a look of confusion passed over his face.

  Just then, the passenger door of the Odyssey opened. Bobby’s eyes moved away from his father and he saw the woman who had been creeping backwards getting into the van.

  The confusion was gone. Bobby shifted the rifle and moved slightly to gain a clear view of the van door behind which the woman was hiding.

  Megan heard the sound of the rifle firing and an immediate thunk. She dropped to her knees behind the van door, desperately trying to shield herself. Looking up, she saw a small hole in the door. A second shot was fired, and she dove inside the van.

  Jeff had heard the van door open too. He could see the expression on Bobby’s face and knew what the kid was going to do. When he moved the rifle, Jeff tried to react immediately but couldn’t. His feet felt stuck in place. The first shot jolted him, but it took seeing Bobby throw the bolt on the rifle and the empty cartridge flying free before he was able to lunge for the boy.

  Bobby saw him coming and tried to level the rifle at him. The second shot went wild as they tumbled to the ground. Jeff grabbed for the weapon and got a single hand on it as Bobby’s knee came up. They landed awkwardly, with Jeff twisting to the side. The blow knocked the wind out of him, but he avoided the knee intended for his crotch. Despite the pain of the attack, he managed to keep his hand tight on the rifle, even as the boy tried to wrench it free.

  * * *

  When George heard the van door open behind him, he shifted, fearful it was the other gunman. That was all Fred needed. He ran toward his son as Bobby fired the first shot. George heard it as well and then saw Megan dive into the van directly above him. He was relieved it was her but was already in a panic at having lost sight of Fred. He began trying to dislodge himself from his cramped position between the two chairs. As he did, he heard the distinct sound of one of the minivan’s side doors opening in its slow, methodical way. Panic jarred him, and he began struggling even harder. He started to yell, but it was already too late.

  “Jason! No!”

  * * *

  Fred wasn’t thinking about his lost rifle as he reached the spot where Jeff and Bobby were fighting. He lashed out with his foot and landed a grazing blow to the back of Jeff’s head, which snapped forward. Jeff crumpled to the ground. Barely conscious, he let go of the rifle and put his hands over his skull to shield it from further blows. Bobby was pushing him away, and Fred helped drag the boy out from underneath the bleeding man. Jeff rolled over onto his back, a dazed look on his face. Bobby scooted back as his father grabbed the rifle away from him.

  Fred pointed the weapon down at Jeff, a sad look on his face.

  “Fred?” Jeff’s eyes were blurry, and he wasn’t sure who was standing over him. He tried to prop himself up on one elbow, but dizziness claimed him, and he couldn’t manage it. “Fred, is that you?” The words were slurred, as if he were drunk.

  Fred put the rifle butt up against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jeff. But no one attacks my boy.” He lined up the sights, slipped his finger into the trigger guard, and took a deep breath.

  The world exploded. Jeff was trying to say “no” to the man he thought might be Fred when the man’s entire left side disappeared. He bucked forward, and a gout of blood burst from his chest. There were a couple of screams—one filled with anguish, the other more pitiful. Suddenly the man was falling.

  * * *

  George finally wrestled free of the captain’s chairs and was face to face with Megan.

  “Give me the gun!” she shouted, and he tossed it to her on his way out the door through which Jason had just exited. He had not seen where the boy went, but he heard the shot ring out so close that it felt like his eardrums would burst. He went cold at the sound.

  George stepped out of the van and saw Jason standing there, Fred’s dropped rifle in his hands, the end of the barrel smoking.

  “Jason? Jason, what happened?” George felt a sickening dread wash over him as he looked past the boy. When he saw Fred’s bleeding body, he stumbled backwards.

  “Oh my God, what have you done?”

  He turned away from the gruesome image and looked at Jason again. The twelve year old was still staring in the direction of the man he had shot, but his eyes were blank. His legs began to wobble, and George rushed up to catch him as he let go of the rifle. Jason looked at him with dull eyes and did not seem to recognize the man with whom he had spent the last month. George suppressed a shiver and pulled the boy close, hugging him tightly as he pulled him toward the van. He heard someone starting to scream behind him.

  * * *

  “Dad?”

  Bobby, who had been on the ground watching his father, crawled over to where Fred had fallen. The entry wound was small on his back, and he hoped it was minor. The bullet had pierced his father below the shoulder and plowed into his left lung. The teen touched the wound and pulled his fingers back as if stung.

  “Daddy?” Frantically, he rolled his father over, only to discover a massive exit wound. It was hard to tell how big the hole was with all the blood pouring out. Bobby slapped his hand over it, desperately trying to staunch the flow, but Fred’s left lung had already collapsed. There were a few short wheezes as the last of the sticky liquid gushed out of his chest.

  Bobby’s scream coincided with his father’s final shuddering breath. He lifted Fred in his arms and wailed in agony. He raised his head and looked back at the van. In an instant, he was standing, his father’s blood smeared across his shirt and pants.

  “You fucking bastards! You murdered my daddy!”

  He spotted George and Jason and saw his father’s rifle at their feet. He reached toward his belt and undid the snap holding his hunting knife. Pulling the large blade out, he walked toward them. As they moved into the van, he began to run, the knife clutched in his raised hand.

  “Bobby!”

  He barely heard his name as he picked up speed. He
was almost to the van.

  “Bobby, stop! I don’t want to shoot you!”

  He howled and raised his weapon above his head, his eyes trained on George’s back.

  Megan’s first shot spun Bobby sideways, but he didn’t feel it. He staggered but righted himself, his eyes never leaving his target. Her second shot went wild, missing him by a foot. He began to move forward again when she pulled the trigger for the third time. Teeth and shards of bone disintegrated as the .357 slug tore through his jaw. Bobby’s head twisted sharply away from his body, and he collapsed to the ground.

  Shaking violently, Megan rounded the van and kept the gun pointed at the fallen boy. He had dropped his knife, and his face was buried in the dirt. He shuddered spasmodically and then went still.

  Megan stared down at Bobby, watching his blood form a distorted halo around his head. She stared at him for a few more seconds, wiping a bitter tear from her eye before she moved to where George was comforting Jason inside the van.

  “Could you help me with Jeff? We need to get out of here.”

  George looked at her and nodded. The dullness in her eyes was far too familiar; it was the same look Jason had.

  He did his best to ignore the bodies, especially the young boy’s. He strode purposefully past the first corpse, his eyes locked on Jeff’s prone form. Fred’s torn body was next to him. The smell of coppery blood was overpowering, and George had to turn away and bend over to quell his rebellious stomach.

  When Megan spoke from directly behind him, George felt like jumping twenty feet straight up. “Can you get Jeff? He’s too heavy for me, and I’m going to get the rifles and any bullets they had.” Megan shoved the handgun into her pocket as George stared back at her with confusion in his eyes.

  “George?” She touched him delicately on the shoulder, and he recoiled. Her dead-eyed stare had diminished, and Megan was registering concern for him, but he was still trying to comprehend what she had just done.

  “It’s...I’m okay. No, really, I am. I just...I just need a minute.” He stuttered and stumbled his way through the words. It appeared to placate her.

  Jeff came to much more easily than George thought he would. He had been clocked pretty good, but the bleeding had stopped. He asked about Megan, so George gave him a shorthand account of what had happened. Jeff was too dazed to react but seemed to understand. He got to his feet with George’s help, and they climbed into the back of the van, where Jason sat quietly.

  Megan forced herself to do a quick search of the two bodies. She did not move them, but patted their pockets and found a few rounds of ammunition but not much else. She looked over at the small house but decided not to bother with it.

  She walked the perimeter of the van, shutting the doors and settling in behind the steering wheel. Everyone else was in the back seats. Megan glanced over at the bullet hole in the passenger door and studied it for a moment before looking out the window.

  “I guess all that noise stirred up the neighbors.”

  George leaned over to look out the windows. Off in the distance, closing in from various directions, were several staggering figures. The shots had woken them from their slumber, or whatever it was that they did when no one was around to irritate them.

  Some were closer than others, coming from the direction of the houses and even through the dense woods to the north. Farther off, from the opposite direction, there were more making their slow and determined march toward the cottage.

  “Should we bury the bodies?” Megan asked.

  George shook his head. “It would be the decent thing to do, even though...but no, there’s no point. I think they could still smell them, and I wouldn’t put it past them to dig up a body, especially if it’s...fresh.”

  They watched the slowly approaching shapes for a few more seconds before George spoke again.

  “Let’s just go.”

  Megan looked at him in the rearview mirror. “You want to sit next to me?”

  She could see the discomfort her question caused. “Nah, I think I’ll stay back here with these two and make sure they’re okay.”

  Megan nodded and shifted the van into drive. “Sounds good.” She didn’t look back as she drove past the arms reaching out for them and turned onto the main road.

  After a few moments, she felt relieved that George had rejected her invitation to sit up front as she wept silently.

  Chapter 21

  Megan kept driving east. Sticking with the road they were on would lead them to Manchester, the next town on the map. She did not relish the idea of getting near another town of any size, so she began looking for another place they could hunker down for the night.

  Her tears dried as rows of corn flowed by the van. There was a mix of gravel and asphalt routes leading off to obscure back roads between the crops. Manchester was straight ahead, less than five miles away and looming on the horizon.

  “Eeny, meeney, miney, mo…” she mumbled.

  Taking a left down a random road, she didn’t bother looking at the sign that told her its name. They were surrounded by crops taller than the van with a thin strip of asphalt heading off into the distance.

  Megan saw a smaller gravel lane creeping up on them and slowed to study it. For no real reason, she turned right and headed down the rough path. On the passenger side, crops went on to the horizon, but on Megan’s side of the road, they cut off maybe a mile or less from where they were.

  “Where are we going?” Jeff asked from the back seat, his voice slightly slurred.

  “Just trying to find us someplace for the night,” Megan tossed over her shoulder.

  As the corn stalks fell away, trees took their place. Split-rail fencing surrounding someone’s land popped up, and the trees continued behind it. After a hundred feet, there was a break, and a long driveway split off through a large yard. Megan stared down the path and saw a modest farmhouse. It was old and rustic looking with a grassy expanse of at least three or four acres surrounding it. The grass had grown wild, but it was obvious the place had been cared for. Large, mature trees populated the yard, and woodlands dropped off behind the house. The gravel drive hit the traditional two-story house at the attached garage. A tire swing was off to the left, and an above-ground pool was set back in the giant backyard.

  “So is this where we’re staying tonight?” George inquired.

  Megan looked back at him. He was sitting between Jeff and Jason, ostensibly to tend to both of them. “Not sure,” she said, and looked back at the house. “It looks okay, doesn’t it?”

  “Looks fine to me. Let’s check it out.”

  Megan kept staring at the house. It was far back from the road. The property line ran for a good distance. They were surrounded by farmland, and it was relatively remote. Still, she felt some doubt.

  “Megan?”

  She ignored George as she kept scouring the landscape and house with her eyes, watching for movement. After a few seconds, she looked down at the fuel gauge. They had plenty of gas to keep moving, but where could they go that would be any better than this?

  With a sigh, she moved the van forward until there were several large trees between it and the house before she shut off the engine. Reaching over, she grabbed her revolver, then she opened the door and stepped outside.

  The cargo door was opening as well, and George stepped out holding one of the rifles. He looked toward the house as he spoke. “Let’s go have a look.”

  Megan stepped in front of him. He stood over her, and sunlight beamed down from behind him, casting Megan in shadow. She shook her head as she shoved the handgun into the waistband of her pants. “I can do this by myself. I need you to stay here and watch those two.” She waved a hand at the open van door.

  George looked indignant but had the decency to hide it behind a forced smile. He kept it there and did his best to look confident and tough, but Megan could see how awkwardly the rifle sat in his hands.

  “Megan, you can’t do this alone. Come on! We can scope this place out, and
if there’s trouble, we’ll back each other up.” His sickly grin got even wider, and he moved a step closer. “In fact, if anyone should be staying here, it’s you. I’ll go. You stay here to keep an eye out for any trouble.”

  Megan stared up at him with a smile on her face that did not reach her eyes. George was nearly a foot taller than she, but she did not look intimidated. When she stepped closer, his smile faltered and he backed up slightly.

  “George, I don’t think that’s a good idea. In fact, I think it’s a lousy idea.” Her smile disappeared, and her demeanor became stern.

  “I’m going up to that house, and I am going to make sure no one is there. If there are any of those things, I’ll shoot them. If there are any people, I’ll try to reason with them, but if that doesn’t work, I’ll do what I have to, whatever that may be. Is any of this unclear to you?”

  “Megan, I—”

  “No, George, I don’t want to hear it. There’s no time for any macho-man bullshit right now, okay? I’m tired, hungry, and can’t deal with your BS on top of everything else.”

  The intensity in Megan’s eyes made George want to take another step back, but he rocked on his heels instead.

  “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that…” he sputtered.

  “Forget it, George. We can argue later about who should do what, but for right now, I don’t want to worry about hurt feelings, all right? I just want to get this over with, and the longer I stand here the grouchier I get.” She stomped past him, bumping his arm as she did. He staggered back slightly even though there was no way her slight frame could have moved him. George turned to watch her walk toward the entrance of the property, a look of stunned confusion on his face.