by Steven Bird
“How will you drive the sheep back without Duke?”
“Yeah, that’ll be tough. I suppose I can bait them with corn and grain. Moving them from one feed spot to another until we get them back to the homestead. There’s just no way I can handle them on horseback alone. Those ewes are too skittish for that. I would just end up pushing them off into the woods or something, scattering the flock. Duke—he was priceless. That dog could drive those sheep to me all day long, never letting even one get away.”
“You do what you have to do,” she replied. “Now put Brave in the barn and get in here. Breakfast is ready. We can talk about it more after you eat and take a good nap.”
~~~~
Removing his napkin from where he had tucked it into his shirt, Jessie patted himself on the belly and said with great satisfaction in his voice, “Oh, how I love those potato pancakes. You’re the best, babe. And that syrup you make out of honey—it’s the perfect touch.”
“Thanks, hon. And yes, I’m thankful for our friendly little bees every day.”
“Daddy,” Sasha said, batting her eyes with a smile from ear to ear, “May I be excused? I’m working on a birthday present for you. Mommy made it part of our art lessons.”
“That’s right, it’s almost my birthday. With all that’s been going on I guess I’ve just totally lost track of everything. Of course, sweetheart. Go right ahead.”
“Me, too! Me, too!” said Jeremy with excitement as the two of them ran off into the other room.
Walking over to Jessie, Stephanie threw her leg over him and sat in his lap, giving him a hug and a kiss on the forehead. “They’re so excited about the birthday presents they’re making. Putting some meaning behind their art projects sure has gotten them motivated. I can’t wait for you to get those sheep back over here so you’re around at night again. Our bed has been getting cold at night without you,” she said with a flirtatious smile.
“Me, too. Trust me,” he replied. “Sleeping out there in the cold every night isn’t my idea of a perfect situation, either. I’ll get everything I need together today before I head back out. That way, in the morning, I can just get the things I need at first light and start to move them back this way, corn pile by corn pile.”
“Why not get it done today? It’s early still. I don’t like the thought of being alone here with the kids with someone prowling around out there. I mean—what could they be up to? How did they find us here? It can’t be someone we knew from before. If they simply needed a helping hand, they would have come to the cabin like others have before, instead of lying low in the woods. Wouldn’t they?”
Looking out the window at the treeline in the distance, Jessie paused and said, “No, I imagine if not for the snowfall showing their path so clearly, we still wouldn't even know they were in the area. They probably had or have more recon to do. Then again, who knows how long they’ve been out there. In hindsight, we should’ve had more dogs. We should have had more than one sheepdog, and we definitely needed a dog or two around here for security at the cabin. A good Rottweiler would’ve taken care of someone sneaking around in the area already, or at a minimum, we would have known they were here immediately. That is, of course, assuming this wasn’t the first visit.”
“You can’t think like that.”
“Like what?” he responded defensively.
“You can’t rehash every move we’ve made in getting ourselves up here on the homestead and getting ourselves prepared. Before the attacks, when things were only slowly getting worse, most people thought you were crazy for wanting to sell our home that was the symbol of the American dream to many, to move your family off-grid into the mountains. You couldn’t have possibly covered every scenario, but you have done a damn fine job with the time and resources we had, getting us to a safe place away from most of the horrors in the cities. We wouldn’t be alive if not for you, Jessie. I’m sure of that. So stop looking to the past and look at our present. What can we do with what we have today and the threats we face? Focus on that.”
“I’m glad I married up,” he responded with a smile. “You’re the brains of this outfit. I’m just the mule that carries the load,” he said, putting his arms around her.
As Jessie leaned in to give Stephanie a kiss, the moment was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot off in the distance. Jessie’s heart sank as the sound he heard shattered the perceived safety of the isolation of his family’s homestead. They had managed to live off-grid in their mountain hideaway virtually undetected by what remained of the population down below, avoiding the horrors of the rest of the world until now. The uncertainty of what might be their future sent chills through his body, a nervousness and uncertainty that he hadn’t felt since his first officer-involved shooting as a young rookie sheriff’s deputy so many years ago.
Those thoughts and fears swept through his body like a wildfire as he turned to her and said, “Get the kids in the bedroom under the bed. Keep the pistol and the shotgun with you at all times. Throw the board in the hangers across the door to barricade it shut.”
“Where are you going?” she asked in a distressed voice.
“That shot sounded like it came from the direction of the flock—ˮ
Before he could finish, the crack of another gunshot could be heard echoing through the mountains.
“Those sheep are our livelihood. If we let someone just start walking in there and picking them off, causing them to scatter—well, we could starve this winter. I’ve got to deal with this and deal with it now!”
With a quick hug and a kiss, Stephanie nodded in agreement and simply said, “Hurry back. Be safe. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he replied, staring deeply into her beautiful blue eyes before turning to run out the door. As he began to pull the door shut behind him, he shouted, “Remember, throw the board into the hangers and stay put.”
As the door closed with a solid thud, Stephanie flinched with fear of what her husband might be running off to find. Quickly snapping herself back into dealing with the tasks at hand, she did as he asked and barricaded the door. As she turned to grab Jessie’s old duty pistol, Sasha and Jeremy ran into the room, with Jeremy asking, “Mommy, what’s Daddy shooting at?”
With a warm and reassuring smile, Stephanie quickly replied, “Oh, it’s nothing. Let’s go play hide-and-seek.”
Chapter Nine
Riding Brave through the trees at a breakneck pace to avoid being seen out in the open on the trail leading from the cabin to the sheep’s grazing area, Jessie dodged limbs and branches, occasionally taking a swat to his face, unable to miss them all. As he approached the treeline of the grassy hillside, he slowed the horse to a stop, dismounted quickly, and tied his reins to a small tree branch. Patting him on the neck, he said, “There you go, boy, this won’t really hold you, but maybe it will fool you for a while. If you end up being left out here alone, hopefully, you’ll eventually figure out you can break it off and get away.”
He then quietly pulled his Bushmaster AR-15 from the saddle mounted scabbard, pulled back slightly on the charging handle to verify that a round was in the chamber, ensured that the bolt went back into battery with the forward assist, and tapped the bottom of the fully loaded magazine to confirm that it was properly seated. Here we go, he thought as he crept up to the treeline, still hidden from plain view.
Zooming his 1-4X Nikon scope out to its maximum zoom, Jessie glassed the area looking for any signs of movement. His panicking sheep seemed confused, scattering in various directions, and then returning to the flock, unsure of the source of the threat. His sheep had been exposed to gunfire in the past, but it was always from Jessie’s own gun, and never directly presented them with harm. They clearly knew something was different on this occasion, however.
As Jessie patiently searched the area, he spotted movement on the far side of the clearing, against the trees. His relatively weak 4X zoom didn’t present him with an overly detailed picture. However, he could tell that there was an armed in
dividual carrying what appeared from a distance to be either a CETME or FAL rifle. Looking down at his AR-15, Jessie thought to himself, Dammit, I sure would trade this thing for my good ol’ .30-06 right now. That guy has the range advantage with a .308 over my .223. On the bright side, he doesn’t seem to have an optic on that rifle. He may have the advantage of firepower, but I’ve got the advantage in the battlespace intel department.
As another shot rang out, the muzzle flash from the man’s rifle evident even from Jessie’s distance, he knew he had to approach or engage his potential adversary. In order to close the gap to increase the effectiveness of his shots with his smaller-caliber rifle, Jessie began working his way slowly and quietly around the treeline, while remaining hidden in the woods. He knew his AR-15 was better suited for close-quarters battle and quick follow-up shots than for long-range sniping with its sixteen-inch carbine-length barrel and anemic .223/5.56mm cartridge. Closing the gap before visibly approaching or engaging the man would increase the effectiveness of his shots—should they become necessary. The last thing he wanted was to get bogged down in a drawn-out firefight. The resolution to this problem needed to come quickly.
Silently working his way around the grassy hillside, through the wooded area below, Jessie paused on occasion, looking around to try to determine if the individual in question had others lying in wait, either providing cover or setting a trap. He hoped it would turn out to simply be a man wanting to steal a few sheep carcasses, but deep down inside, the situation felt like it could be something more.
Upon reaching a range where he felt his first shot, if necessary, could be well placed and carry adequate energy to neutralize the threat, he took one last look around, covered the man with his rifle, and stepped out onto the grassy hillside to confront the intruder.
“Halt!” he shouted in a firm and commanding voice.
As the man began to turn to face him, Jessie shouted, “You’re on private property. Those animals are my private property, as well. You are trespassing and stealing. Lower your weapon to the ground and don’t do anything that will make me act further.”
“Property?” the man questioned. “The world has changed, my friend.”
“I’m not your friend. I’m a man holding his sights on you.”
“Either way, the world has changed. Property is a loose term. If you can’t defend it, it’s not yours. It doesn’t matter what some piece of paper says.”
“Exactly, and I’m defending it right now!” Jessie shouted in an increasingly aggressive tone, the seriousness in his voice becoming evident.
“Are you?” the man asked.
“I’ve got a rifle on you, don’t I?”
“What about the rest of your property? Are you defending that? It doesn’t look like it. So I guess it’s not yours—is it?”
His body tensed, flinching with rage, coming close to unintentionally discharging his rifle. Regaining his composure, Jessie said, “You had better tell me what you’re doing and who else is with you or—ˮ
Before he could finish, Jessie heard several gunshots in the distance, appearing to come from the direction of the homestead. His heart felt as if it had skipped a beat from the hellish realization of what might be occurring.
Taking advantage of the distraction, the trespasser began to bring his rifle to bear. Snapping back into the moment, Jessie quickly let two rounds fly, striking the man in the chest, dropping him to the ground almost instantly.
Jessie turned and sprinted into the woods in the direction of where he had left his horse. Running as hard as he could, he found the tree where he had loosely tied his reins, but Brave was nowhere to be found. This realization nearly brought him to his knees, knowing it would take him far too long to get back to the cabin on foot.
Hearing several more gunshots off in the distance, Jessie frantically looked for Brave, desperately trying to spot the animal through the trees in the distance. Placing two fingers in his mouth, Jessie whistled loudly and shouted, “Brave! Come on, boy!”
Trotting through the woods came Brave, dragging the branch he had been tied to along behind.
“Oh, thank God, boy,” Jessie said as he ran up to him, placing one foot in a stirrup, throwing his other leg over the saddle, and spurring Brave into action.
No longer worried about traveling with cover, Jessie rode Brave as hard as he could down the main trail between the grassy hillside and the homestead. Attempting to keep the horrible possibilities out of his mind while he raced home to save his family, he contemplated his options and decided to ride straight for the chicken coop instead of the cabin. This would give himself a position of cover while he assessed the threats that were more than likely making a move on the home.
As the homestead came into view, his heart raced and his hearing seemed to fade into silence as he saw a man step out of the cabin and onto the front porch with what appeared to be Jessie’s shotgun and Smith & Wesson M&P .40 in his hands. Leaping off of his horse before he even came to a stop, Jessie abandoned his plans to take cover behind the coop, knowing that the intruder had been inside the cabin.
Focused with more rage than he had ever felt and having left his AR-15 in his saddle scabbard in his haste to dismount, Jessie drew his Colt revolver and fired two rounds in rapid succession. One of the rounds went whizzing by the man’s head, while the other struck him in the right shoulder, spinning him to the side and causing him to drop the pistol.
Still occupying a world of deafening silence, Jessie felt as if a swarm of bees was stinging his left leg. In what seemed like slow-motion, he turned his attention to the source of the pain. There he saw a disheveled, filthy man with long, greasy hair, cycling the pump action of a shotgun with smoke still emanating from the barrel, chambering another round, preparing once again to fire. Still running toward the cabin, Jessie took several hasty shots at the man, striking him in the side of the head, causing him to scream out in pain, dropping the shotgun to the ground while his hands covered his gaping wound.
Ignoring the pain in his leg, Jessie ran directly at the man in front of him, who was desperately trying to cycle Jessie’s pump shotgun with one arm. With blood pouring profusely from the man’s right arm, which was devastated by the close range shot of the one hundred and fifty-eight grain .357 Magnum hollow-point bullet, Jessie was able to fire two more rounds at the man before he could bring the shotgun to bear, striking him in the center of the chest and directly in the throat, knocking the man back onto the ground, dead on impact.
Running past the man, Jessie ran into the cabin. Shoving the door aside, he yelled “Stephanie! Sasha! Jeremy! Where are you?” as he ran toward the bedroom, not seeing them in the kitchen or living room.
As Jessie entered the bedroom, his entire world seemed to simply stop spinning. His peripheral vision faded to darkness, his ears still registering only silence, and his heart seeming to cease its frantic beats. In front of him lay the culmination of all of his nightmares, his Hell on Earth, the end of his humanity.
On the blood-drenched bed lay his beautiful wife and two children, their throats slit from ear to ear, their eyes staring blankly at the ceiling above.
On the floor before the bed was a dead assailant, killed by Stephanie in her final struggles to save and protect her children. For the next few moments, Jessie Townsend ceased to be. He was a madman. No logical thoughts were present in his mind—only rage and violence. Turning around toward the front of the cabin, Jessie went from a slow and steady pace to a full-speed run out the door, clearing the front porch with a single stride.
Reaching the man who shot him in the leg, who was now writhing in pain on the ground as he held his brains inside of his own head with blood-covered hands, Jessie raised his revolver, slowly cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger, only to feel no recoil. The gun reacted with a simple click of the hammer as it struck the primer of a spent shell casing. Unable to understand the situation due to his trance-like state, Jessie continued to cycle the revolver, click after click, yet noth
ing happened.
Holding the gun up in front of his own face, momentarily confused, Jessie realized the futility of his actions and dropped it to the ground. Slowly advancing toward the injured man, Jessie slid his belt-knife out of its sheath, knelt down next to him, and pushed the knife through the man’s hand, into the fractures in his skull, piercing his brain, killing him instantly.
Pulling the knife out slowly, while staring into the man’s now empty eyes, Jessie sheathed the knife as his world went completely dark, and he, too, fell to the ground.
Chapter Ten
As the wolves circled in the darkness, Jessie drew his knife and closed his eyes so the shadows could not play tricks on his mind. He listened intently to each step they took and each breath the wolves drew as they seemed to be spiraling in closer to him. Just as it seemed they were nearly upon him, Jessie opened his eyes slowly, now adjusted to the darkness of the night, to see a large, young male wolf square off in front of him, its head held low, its front legs crouched down as if spring-loaded for an attack, its fangs exposed, and a look of pure evil in its eyes, which glowed brightly in the darkness.
With little warning, the wolf leaped at Jessie’s throat, its jaws wide open and its ferocious fangs exposed. With every ounce of strength he could muster, Jessie thrust his knife forward, striking the mighty beast in the chest, just before it was able to clamp its teeth into him.
