by Chris Lowry
I managed not to fall on the other side, but the movement drew the Z out of the creek in a sloshing slog up the bank.
It gave me enough time to retrieve the pike, jab them both, then gather the rifles and weapons from the dead hunters who had stalked us from the island.
I stabbed them in the head too before they turned Z and became a future threat.
I strapped the rifles across my back and began a shuffling jog toward the gate.
My side decided that was a bad idea, so I just kept moving as fast as I could go.
A half hour later I made the road. The gate was shut and locked.
I could see a man on horseback leading another mount back in the direction of the creek, but he couldn’t see me.
I waved at the sniper on the hill and waited for someone to come get me. If I tried to climb over, they might mistake me for a hunter and I didn’t feel like getting shot. Again.
Anna and Brian came to the gate, walking slow, weapons ready.
“It’s you,” said Brian.
“It’s me,” I agreed.
“Meroni went back to get you.”
“I’m not there.”
“I can see that.”
They opened the gate and let me in.
“Have you seen anything?”
Anna shook her head.
“He came back and said you were attacked. We spread out to see if there were more, but so far, nothing.”
“That might be it,” I said to them. “There were four and we got them. It could be all.”
“Do you think it is?” Brian asked.
I shrugged as we trudged back to the house.
“You bled through the bandage,” Anna said as her fingers traced the outline through my shirt.
A crimson stain was spreading in a slow dark circle.
“I climbed the fence,” I explained.
“Stupid,” she chided.
I couldn’t tell her she was wrong.
We reached the inner fence and the paddock beside the barn by the time Meroni came back.
He glared at me as he dismounted and waved over one of his people.
“Two dead in the creek,” he said. “We need to get them out before they taint the water.”
The man nodded and took the empty horse meant for me and rode off.
“You,” Meroni turned to me. “Let’s talk.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Usually when people say the words, let’s talk, what they really mean is that they want to yell for a few minutes to get whatever it is out of their system.
The only response needed is a nod, maybe a yes sir.
Meroni was no different.
“I’ve kept us safe,” he fumed. “I’ve kept us hidden and you’re here two days and we’re attacked. Do you think that’s coincidence?”
He paced the interior of the barn, a vein throbbing in his forehead as his cheeks flushed red.
“A lot of bad people out there want what we have,” he continued. “But everyone’s left us alone. Until now. Until you.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t defend. The man was right.
The only casualty on our side so far, was a horse.
But even that price might be too high.
“Your daughter is part of my community,” he said. “I found her and brought her in. She can stay. But I need you to go.”
He turned on me and stopped pacing.
“If they’re following you, they will keep on following. I’ve got too many people here to worry about.”
His right hand gripped his left arm.
“You can stay one more night. Say your goodbyes if she wants to stay safe here. But at first light, I need you and your people to move on.”
My stomach gurgled. Yes, this was his house, and we were guests at his place. But he was threatening me with dividing my kids up again.
I took a breath and fought down the rage.
Then I nodded.
“We’ll go,” I said.
It was that simple. Either I could fight for all of us to stay, or gather up my wounded and my children and we could move on.
Even as I said it, I had a plan.
Send Byron and Tyler ahead to find transport, and bring it back.
Move the wounded into the trees by the creek until they did.
Set the weapons and watch and stay ready.
Meroni looked at me, his lips working open and closed, a half grimace that flashed to a scowl and back again.
I suspect he expected me to argue. To ask. To beg.
I brought trouble to his door. I’d take it with me when I left.
If I could.
It was the only way to repay his kindness.
“Thanks for the extra night,” I said.
His mouth opened again as his hand gripped his arm. Then Meroni pitched over on his side and flopped to the ground in front of the barn.
“Hey!” I screamed.
Brian and Anna came running. Anna hit her knees next to the man, rolled him over on his back.
“Still breathing,” she said.
“I think he’s having a heart attack,” I said. “He was holding his arm.”
She ran her hands over his chest, felt his pulse, then looked up at me.
There wasn’t much we could do but ride it out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Brian helped one of his other men move Meroni into the farmhouse.
Then we waited.
Stood vigil.
He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t talking. His body twitched, eyes rolling in his head as he lay in bed.
Anna bathed his forehead with a damp cloth, taking turns with Bis and others of his people.
I told Brian about our conversation while we waited.
He nodded and accepted it, even sent Byron and Tyler to talk with me as the afternoon began to wane.
“I’m not sure how far you’ll need to look,” I told them. “The road goes through a couple of small towns you can check. Just get what you can and get back here.”
They agreed. The man who went to clear the creek stopped them.
“There’s a church about ten miles from here, off Calvary road. There’s a sign. They have a passenger van that’s still there. If you get gas for it, you can use it.”
I nodded my thanks and sent the two boys to retrieve it.
Bis, Bem and the Boy found me on the porch.
There were several chairs behind me, but I was seated on the edge of the boards, leaning against a column to relieve some of the pressure on the wound in my side.
The walk from the creek had left me exhausted, and even though Meroni promised one more night, I was secretly hoping for another two weeks.
Maybe three.
We could do some with someplace safe for a while.
I wondered how the church was set up, and if there was food to be found in the cities around it, as the kids approached.
“Dad?” said Bis.
She settled on to the porch beside me as the Boy and Bem put two points on a triangle in front of me.
“I’m okay,” I assured her.
“That’s not what I’m asking,” she said. “I know you’re okay. You’re always okay.”
I glanced at the trio of offspring, my progeny and bit my lip.
“Did you hurt him?” Bem asked.
“Who?”
“Meroni,” said the Boy.
“No.”
“He was going to kick us out,” said Bis.
“He is kicking us out,” I corrected. “And he’s right. We led trouble to his doorstep.”
“But it’s safe here,” Bis sniffed.
“It was,” said the Boy.
“It still is,” I told them. “And we’re going to find someplace safe too.”
“But this place is now,” said Bis.
“What are you asking?” I stared at my kids.
“She doesn’t know what you can do,” said the Boy. “But we do. We know what you’ve done.”
“Don’t l
et him make us leave,” said Bem.
“Don’t hurt him,” Bis whispered.
They grew quiet then, and I suppose they knew that’s how I operated. Put the idea out there, let me mull it over and live with the consequences.
Don’t let Meroni make us leave. Keep us in this safe place.
I thought about the tall rancher laying in a bed inside his ranch house, the bedrooms turned into dorm rooms to house almost two dozen people.
I thought about how those people would react if the dozen of us decided to stay.
If I made us stay.
A forced occupation does not lead to easy lives, I thought.
“I’ll think about it,” I told them.
My kids nodded. They leaned in together and wrapped their arms around me for a quick hug, then disappeared toward the barn.
I watched them go and thought about what they were asking me to do.
Peg had said it once. I was a monster. My kids saw it too.
And I would make the decision so no one else would have to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The van barreled down the dirt road toward the gate, horn blaring.
We could hear it from the farmhouse.
Then the staccato beep grew louder as they topped the second rise to the farm house.
The van slid to a sideways stop in front of the second fence and Tyler spilled out of the driver’s seat.
“Help!” he screamed.
Anna, Brian and Bem ran toward him as he opened the passenger door and pulled Byron out.
Half his head was gone. The body flopped to the ground in a splattered mess.
Tyler was covered with gore and bits, from where the side of Byron’s head popped open on him.
Hannah raced across the paddock yard, screaming and shoved Tyler out of the way. She knelt over Byron, cradled his limp body and shrieked.
“What happened?” I grabbed Tyler and dragged him away from the noise.
Brian and the Boy followed.
Tyler gulped air, leaned over and threw up.
He stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Ambushed again,” he stammered. “They’re out there. They’re coming.”
As if to punctuate his point, we heard rifle shots from the sniper’s position once, twice, then they grew silent.
“The gate?” I asked and started up the road.
“We closed it,” Tyler called after me and I stopped.
“But that won’t hold them.”
I turned back and grabbed him by the shirt.
“Get up that hill and give me a count.”
He started to run and I grimaced as I held him back.
“Rifle,” I told him.
He nodded again, took a deep breath to compose himself, then ran to the barn.
“Me?” the Boy asked.
“I need eyes out back,” I told him. “In case they come through the pasture.”
He nodded and ran after Tyler to the barn.
“Get everyone ready,” I told Brian and left him to arm and organize who we had on the ranch.
Hannah cradled Byron and wailed over his body in a tired moan.
I bent down in front of her, couldn’t hold that pose and dropped to my knees.
The boy who would be king looked at peace. The hole in the side of his head was pressed against her blood drenched shirt, her arm covering where the mass of the back of his skull was missing.
I put my hand on one of his and held it for a moment.
I could hear Anna and Peg sniffling behind me.
“Get him in the barn,” I said. “We’ll do what we can later.”
The two women helped Hannah up and carried the body of the boy to the barn.
“What can I do?” Raymer stepped away from Lou and his wife.
“Go help the Boy,” I told him. “Watch the back of the house.”
I turned to Bem and Bis.
“Get the van over by the barn. Clean it up but stay low. We may have to move fast.”
They nodded and kept quiet as they moved the van to the barn as well.
Brian had arranged the defenses of the farmhouse by spreading out men and women with rifles or pistols.
It was good enough for now. I nodded my thanks and worked my way up the hill to Tyler.
“Down,” he whispered as I approached.
The sniper guard lay dead in a pile of leaves and brush, a single shot through his forehead.
Tyler was further back, the palm of one hand covering the scope on his rifle as he searched the trees.
“He was too far up,” Tyler told me as he concentrated on the field and tree line. “They saw a flash on his glass.”
As if to show just how right he was, I saw a glint of reflection in the trees below.
“Left,” I said. “Three degrees.”
He shifted left.
“Got you, you bastard.”
He lined up, squeezed the trigger and let the echo of the shot ring across the field.
“Get him?”
I didn’t have a scope to check.
“You have to ask?”
I patted him on the shoulder.
“Keep them out there,” I told him.
“Do you think that was the guy that shot Byron?”
I nodded my head.
“You would know better than me,” I said. “But if it helps, you can tell yourself that’s who it was.”
“It does.”
I snugged the radio off the sniper’s belt and passed it to him.
“I’ll get Meroni’s” I told him. “Take out who you can, but watch yourself. Get me intel.”
He grit his teeth and grunted assent, then turned back to the scope.
I crawled backwards until I hit the curve of the hill and enough space to hide behind.
Then I stood up and went to check on the Boy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
They didn’t come that night, which made me suspect dawn was their time line.
After staying up all night, I began to wonder if Tyler got the last one with his sniper shot.
Then the screaming started in the house.
I tried to run from the second gate, past the barn and to the porch, but the wound in my side had other ideas.
I loped, more like a fast limp.
Brian had moved everyone from Meroni’s group into the house except the four sentries he set at the cardinal points of the house.
Our group was in the barn, even Bis who moved out with us on the first night.
People piled at the front door as we ran toward them, screaming, yelling.
The sentries tried to force their way in against the flow of bodies coming out.
“This is it,” I thought. “They got someone through the backdoor.”
But they didn’t.
The hadn’t.
It was Meroni, or what was left of him.
The knot of people from inside streamed past me into the yard in front of the porch as Meroni stumbled out after them.
His chin and front of his shirt were covered with blood. He lifted up an arm and moaned as he lurched after one of the women he had helped save.
One of the sentries raised his gun in shaking hands and tried to end it.
He missed and winged his counterpart on the other end of the porch, flipped him over the side of the rail.
Another woman behind me screamed in horror.
I planted my feet, lifted a pistol and sent a shot through Meroni’s forehead.
