by JEFF MOTES
We go over to his truck without saying a word. He’s fixing to find out there’s no gas in the tank. I go around to the passenger side and get in. He pulls something from under the seat and pops the hood.
“What are you doing?”
“This is the electronic ignition module, and it has to be put in,” he says. “I was trying to tell you that earlier. The truck won’t run without it.”
“Will, I don’t get you. Why would you take it out and keep it under the seat? That doesn’t make any sense, and now we’re wasting valuable time working on your truck.”
“Just a little extra precaution. You know, just in case somebody had a mind to steal my truck. These older trucks are easy to hotwire, but without this module, the truck won’t crank.”
I get out and study what he’s doing. The little device is only about four inches square. He attaches the device to the fender wall using a piece of Velcro and snaps the connectors together.
“All right,” he says, “let’s go.”
He turns the key, and the engine spins over. It sputters as if it’s going to crank, and a little spark of hope flares inside me. Maybe I didn’t get all the gas out after all. But the engine dies right away. He tries several more times. The engine spins over, but it doesn’t even try to crank.
“It’s not getting fuel. The fuel filter must be stopped up or the fuel pump isn’t…”
He’s checking the gauges and stops in mid-sentence. He taps the fuel gauge, then jumps out of the truck, pops open the fuel door, and removes the fuel cap. He reaches for a long stick laying in the bed of the truck.
“What’s wrong, Will?”
He doesn’t speak until he pulls the stick out of the fuel tank. “They stole my gas!”
“I have some gas in my truck if they didn’t steal it, too. Maybe we can get some from there.”
I’m hoping he knows how to get it out.
“No. Your truck is too new. The newer vehicles have anti-siphon devices in them. You’ll never get the gas out without dropping the tank unless you knock a hole in the bottom. I don’t know how to do it safely.”
He gets his carbine from the truck. “Come on,” he says. “We’ve got to run.”
He’s off at a trot. It’s a long ways to the community, over a mile. There is no way I can run that far. By the time I make it to the paved road, he is far ahead. Soon he’ll be around the bend and out of sight. I start jogging. I’m so out of shape, I can’t go far. I slow to catch my breath, then start jogging again.
It takes forever before I get to the barricade. Will isn’t there. I sprint the last few yards and stop, gasping for air. There are two men there. One is the same guy from the other day, though I can’t remember his name. He steps out around the barricade to where I am and hands me a bottle of water.
“Will is at the church talking with Pastor Ezell and some of the other men. You can use my bike and ride up there.”
“Thanks,” I gasp.
I pedal as fast as I can, but my legs are weak from the running, and I’m winded again when I arrive at the church. There is a group of men gathered near the entrance to the church. It’s easy to spot Will; he’s the only white face in the group.
As I approach the group, I start picking up on the conversation.
“James, I want you, Maze, and Deek to go with us,” Pastor Ezell says. “Get your guns and other gear and meet back here in ten minutes. The Hiltons stole all the gas out of Will’s truck, so we’ll have to take our 4-wheelers. I know everybody is low on fuel, but this is something we should do regardless of the cost.”
As he says those words James Harris looks at me hard. This causes the others to glance around. The gathering opens up as I come closer.
“James,” Pastor Ezell says, “if you don’t mind, we’ll take your 4-wheeler and trailer along with another 4-wheeler. Don’t worry, Jimmy. We’ll find Amy and bring her back home. We’re leaving here in ten minutes. We’ll drop you off by your place as we go by.”
Drop me off? Is he crazy?
“No, I’m going too.”
“Mr. Wright, I think it would be best if you stayed with Mrs. Wright and Lizzy,” Will says. “You’re too emotional right now.”
“Emotional?” I blurt out. “You’re damn right I’m emotional! If you had tried to stop them, Amy wouldn’t be in this situation!”
“Jimmy,” Pastor Ezell says in a calming voice, “I know you’re upset, and I can’t imagine what you feel on the inside. But Will is right. You need to be with your wife and Lizzy and guard them while we’re gone. We’ll find Amy, and we’ll bring her home.”
I glare at both of them. There is no way I’m not going with them to get Amy. No way.
The crowd drifts away, and Will and Pastor Ezell move off a few steps, keeping their conversation low so it can’t be heard. Pastor Ezell glances up at me, then to Will and nods. They part, and Will comes over to me.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Will, but it’s not going to work. Why are you trying to sabotage things? You let them take Amy, and now you’re trying to keep me from finding her.”
I reach out to grab him, but he steps away.
“Mr. Wright, it’s going to be all right. We’ll bring her home.”
The 4-wheelers arrive with one pulling a trailer.
“All right, load up!” Pastor Ezell calls out. “Jimmy, ride on the trailer with the rest of us.”
There are four of us riding on the trailer. We stop at the roadblock, and Pastor Ezell calls out, “Lee, I need you to go with us. Somebody else is coming to take your place.”
Without saying a word, Lee climbs on the trailer, and we’re off again. In a few minutes, James turns the 4-wheeler down my drive. Anger flares inside me again.
“I’m not getting off!”
James stops the 4-wheeler right in front of the house. Pastor Ezell whispers something in Lee’s ear then everybody gets off. Lynn and Lizzy are watching from the porch. Will walks up to them and takes Lizzy aside. I’m the only one still on the trailer.
“I’m not getting off,” I repeat.
“Jimmy,” Pastor Ezell says, “you’re not being yourself. You’re only going to make things harder if you go along. You need to stay here and comfort your wife.”
I grip the rail of the trailer tighter and don’t say a word.
“Jimmy,” Pastor Ezell continues, “we aren’t leaving until you get off. If you want your daughter found, you have to stay here.”
My anger is intense, but I don’t have a choice. Will saw to that.
“Fine!” I snap and get off the trailer.
Will and Lizzy walk down the steps and get on the trailer.
“Why is she going?” I demand. “She’ll only get in the way.”
Pastor Ezell and the others climb on the trailer, but one man remains behind.
“When we find Amy, she’s gonna want to see the face of a friend,” Pastor Ezell says. “Lee is going to stay here with you until we return.”
Then they drive off.
Chapter 32
Will
The Hilton Residence
Day 10
I tear the wrapper on an energy bar and give it to Lizzy along with my water bottle. She takes it and bites a piece off.
“Thanks.”
“Will,” Pastor Ezell says, “the Hiltons live on a little dirt road that spurs off Split Road. We’ll check there first.”
He looks at Lizzy, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of the trailer nibbling on the energy bar.
His tone is soft. “Lizzy, are you all right?”
“I’m all right. I’m not going to think about it right now.”
Lizzy is a strong person. I still haven’t gotten the previous encounter with the Hiltons out of my mind.
“What you did was a brave thing,” Pastor Ezell says. “When you need somebody to talk to, I’ll help you.”
James veers off on Split Road where it “Ys” from the highway. Split Road is a heavily traveled dirt roa
d. It’s wide, almost as wide as the highway. We pass a couple of folks walking along the road who give us surprised looks as we pass by. A little further and we turn right on a much smaller dirt road. Not long afterward, we turn on a logging road to the right, and James and Maze guide the 4-wheelers into the trees. They kill the engines, and we all get off.
“The Hiltons live about a half mile further down the road back there,” Pastor Ezell says. “We’re going to approach the rest of the way on foot, through the trees. We need to be as quiet as we can so they won’t know we’re coming. All talking must be at whispers. We’ll make more plans depending on what we see when we get there. Deek, you and Lizzy stay here with the 4-wheelers. If we need you, we’ll call. The same goes for you. Any questions?”
“I’m good,” I respond. The others nod their agreement.
“Men, I appreciate what each of you are doing to help Amy Wright. Make no mistake, this could be dangerous. Shots will be fired, and there is a possibility one of us could be hit. Do you each have a med kit on you?”
The men don’t say anything as they reflect on what is before them. Pastor Ezell is right. This is going to be dangerous. People are going to die. I place my hand on my trauma kit, feeling for the CAT tourniquet. It’s in place just like it’s supposed to be.
Lizzy slips her hand into mine. “Be careful, Will.”
I pull her close. “I will, Lizzy.”
The men perform a radio check, but I don’t have my radio. Mr. Wright ran the batteries down last night, and I didn’t have a chance to recharge it.
We start for the woods across the road. Pastor Ezell is in the lead with Maze in the number two spot. I follow behind Maze about five yards, and James Harris brings up the rear. These men silently glide through the trees, their stealth skills every bit as good as those of my friends in Repose. We soon approach the tree line at Roy Hilton’s house.
Pastor Ezell holds up a fist indicating for us to halt, then gives another signal to advance and spread out along the tree line. He points to me and signals for me to come to him.
“Will, we’re going to spread out and observe the house for a little while,” he whispers. “Then we’ll decide how to approach. You don’t have a radio, so go take James’ place and have him scout around to the other side of the house.”
“Roger,” I reply.
The house is not large, and the paint is peeling from the siding. Smoke is coming up from a chimney, and a woman opens the door and comes out on the porch. She stands there for a few minutes smoking a cigarette, then thumbs it into the yard and goes back inside. On the opposite side of the house is a large metal shed. A truck and car are parked outside; neither will ever run again. An old tractor with a set of discs attached is sitting not far from the shed. Chickens are running around in the yard, scratching in the tall grass. I’m surprised there aren’t any dogs, and I haven’t seen any dog bowls out. Noticeably missing are signs of any 4-wheelers.
We wait for about thirty minutes, seeing no one come or go. James returns from his scout around the house.
“Didn’t see anybody moving,” he says. “Didn’t see any 4-wheelers, either. Come on, the Pastor wants us with him.”
Once we get to where Pastor Ezell and Maze are waiting, Pastor Ezell starts giving instructions.
“Will, how much training have you had?”
“I’ve had a pretty good bit with my dad and some of the guys back in Repose. We’ve been to some tactical classes, including building entry.”
“All right,” Pastor Ezell says, “I want you and James to approach the house and make entry from the front. If Amy is in there, she’s going to need to see a familiar face. You feel good about doing that?”
“Yes, sir. I know what to do.”
“I’m going to cover the garage. Maze, track along the tree line and cover the rear. We don’t want anyone leaving.”
James has been studying at me the whole time Pastor Ezell has been talking.
“Mr. Harris, you want me to take point?”
“No, I’ll take point. Follow me in and follow my lead. Check the muzzle of your weapon.”
“Let’s move,” Pastor Ezell says.
He runs across the opening and stops at the corner of the house. I follow and get close to the wall right behind him. My heart is pumping as fast as it can. This is real. This is not a training class. There isn’t someone here to coach me through. Although I’ve practiced these things with my dad and our friends, I never thought the first time for real would be with people I hardly even know. I stiffen my resolve. Amy’s life depends upon it.
As soon as Mr. Harris is in position, Pastor Ezell moves around the front, crouching to stay below any windows. At the garage, he gives me the signal.
I move to the front porch, staying low. Mr. Harris follows behind. We pause briefly to listen, then Mr. Harris nods. I try the knob; it’s unlocked. I twist it until it releases the door. I ease it open, staring at the crack to see if a door chain is present. There isn’t one. Mr. Harris stands in front of the door and nods again. I push the door open violently, and he rushes in. I enter right behind him.
Mr. Harris rushes down the hall. A woman screams as we enter a large room. There are two women in this room, one older and one a bit younger. The older woman must be Roy Hilton’s wife and the other Cole’s mom, but I’m only guessing. The room opens into a kitchen area to the right and a hall to the left. I’m sweeping the room searching for threats.
The older woman jumps up and fumbles for a shotgun leaning against the wall. Mr. Harris shoves the butt of his AK into her face, and she falls back into the chair. The other woman cowers on the couch as Mr. Harris moves in closer. Their screams are loud and fearful.
A man wearing only a pair of briefs comes out of a doorway, a pistol in his hand. He’s cussing, hollering for the women to shut up. Shock spreads across his face when he sees me leaning around the corner. He raises the pistol, but he’s too late. I fire three rapid shots into his chest, and he drops.
Screams from a younger girl come from the room the man came from. Is it Amy? Mr. Harris is tying the women up, but I don’t wait for him. Amy needs my help. I ease down the hall, pausing at each open door to peer in and scan for threats. I glance at the man lying on the floor as I move pass him for the last room. He’s dead, no doubt about it. One of the shots I fired was a flyer and hit the side of his neck, severing an artery. Blood is everywhere, and it gets on the bottom of my shoes.
At the last room, I cautiously cut around the corner scanning for threats. Seeing none, I push in, shocked at what I see. It’s not Amy. It’s a much younger girl, and she’s quivering in a corner of the room, naked. Her face is contorted and covered with tears as she continues to scream.
I let my carbine hang by its sling as I get nearer. “I’m not going to hurt you.” The fear on her face is staggering, and I want to cry. I pull the cover from the bed and step closer. Her screams diminish when I hold the cover out to her. She timidly takes it, wrapping it around herself. She sits there, quivering. I don’t know what to do. Should I go away? Uncertain, I turn to call for Mr. Harris. The girl’s hand shoots out and grabs my arm.
“Please don’t leave! Don’t leave me here!”
“I won’t. I’m going to call for help.”
I start to stand to go to the door, but her grip tightens. “Don’t leave me!”
I squat down and call out loudly, “Mr. Harris, get Pastor Ezell!”
Mr. Harris is in the doorway, his eyes wide in shock. He calls into the mic on his chest. Soon Pastor Ezell appears, his eyes full of compassion. He approaches the girl, speaking softly and reassuringly. She releases me and takes his hand. Standing, she hugs him close.
“It’s all right, Keisha,” Pastor Ezell says. “It’s going to be all right.”
I recognize her now. She’s in the eighth grade and played a leading role in the high school play this past year. I can’t stay in here any longer. The adrenaline in my system is running down, and I feel nauseated.
This whole scene playing out before us is just wrong. These things shouldn’t happen. Dad and I talked openly about how bad things might get if an EMP attack was to take place, but I never thought of this. As I exit the room, I hear Mr. Harris calling into the radio asking Deek and Lizzy to ride to the house.
Out in the hall, I step over the man lying on the floor. I find I have no regrets for his death. Something is turning cold inside me. In the large room, the two women are lying on the floor bound with duct tape. I look at them with disgust then step out onto the front porch and sit on the steps.
Cole is not here. Amy is not here. Where are they? We must find out before the same thing happens to her!
Chapter 33
Lizzy
Keisha
Day 10
“Lizzy,” Deek says, “can you drive a 4-wheeler?”
“I think so.”
“They want us up at the house. I’ll drive the one with the trailer. You follow on the other one.”
“Okay.”
I climb on the 4-wheeler and crank it up. Deek pulls out ahead of me, and after turning onto the road, he glances to make sure I’m following.
Shortly after, we pull into the drive of a house. The man they call Maze is in the yard with his rifle slung around his neck and his hand on the pistol grip. We drive past him and on up to the porch.
Why is Will sitting on the steps? Where is Amy? He wouldn’t leave her alone inside unless… My heart is racing. I stop the 4-wheeler, quickly dismount, and run to him. There is a sad expression on his face.
Oh no! Please God no!
“Will, where is Amy?”
“She’s…not here.”
“Not here? Where is she? What’s going on?”
“We don’t know just yet.”
He stands and hugs me close.
“What’s wrong, Will?”
“Brace yourself, Lizzy, and let’s go inside.”
I’m still confused, but I follow him. Mr. Harris dragging a bound woman down a hall and into a room. He returns and drags another woman to the same room. There is a blanket or something laid out on the floor near the end of the hall, and a trail of smeared blood leads from the blanket to the room Mr. Harris put the women in.
