by JEFF MOTES
“John, go get Will and Lizzy and bring them home.”
“I will. I promise I’ll bring them home safely. Let me show you a couple of quick things. Then I’ll get my gear ready.”
We walk through the house.
“Let’s see, the great room is to your right. The dining room is to your left. The kitchen is behind it and connects to the garage. The master bedroom and a guest room are over here. The other bedrooms are up the stairs. Make yourself at home. It’s yours.”
I follow him into the bedroom.
“Jill, will you make some coffee? You’ll find everything you need in the kitchen.”
I smile. “Sure.”
John walks into what must be the master bathroom, leaving the door open. I look around the room. It’s nice. All the molding is stained wood, and a large four-poster bed is in the center of one wall. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I lie down, wanting to get the feel of it. My first night in this bed isn’t going to be anything like at Betty’s or Sarge’s. This is going to be completely different.
I locate everything and get the coffee going. This kitchen was obviously laid out by someone who likes to cook. It looks nothing like mine at home. A lot of care was taken to lay it out just right. Everything, from the stove, to the oven, to the sink, to the refrigerator, is laid out with ease of use in mind. Kathy must have done this. She really was a nice person. I wonder how she would feel about another woman taking her place in this kitchen or gaining a place in the heart of her man. Kathy was not a jealous person. For whatever reason, God took her home, and for whatever reason, He has brought me here. No, Kathy would not hate me for loving John or begrudge him the opportunity to love again.
John steps out of the bedroom. His clothes look like the ones he took off, except clean. Khaki pants, earth-tone shirt, boots. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him dress flashy.
I hand him a cup of coffee as he comes in.
“Thanks, Jill. Let’s go downstairs to get my things. I keep some weapons up here in a safe in my closet. I’ll show all that to you later as well, but what I want to take with me is downstairs.”
I follow him into the basement I didn’t realize he had. The stairs end at the entry to a large room with a pool table toward one end. Double French doors are set in one wall, providing a beautiful view across a patio and two large fish ponds. In another room is a study or a home office. There are filled bookcases along the wall, and a nice wood desk is at the other end facing the door.
John goes to a bookcase behind the desk. “Come here. Let me show you this.” He reaches up and pushes a hidden latch inside the bookcase. The thing swings open, revealing a steel door. John pulls out some keys and unlocks the dead bolts.
“I’m going to have to show you more of the details later. There’s a little more to this place than what meets the eyes when you drive up.”
“Yes, I’m seeing that now.”
Following John through the door, I gasp. I’ve never seen anything like it in anyone’s home. The room is fairly large. There is a work bench running along three of the walls. Two large steel gun safes are at one end, but those things are not what amazes me. All along the wall are racks filled with guns. I have never seen so many guns, even at the gun shop in town.
“Geez, John. This is a regular arsenal.”
There are dozens and dozens of rifles and pistols. Nearly a dozen AR15 rifles are lined up side by side. There are many bolt-action rifles, lever-action rifles, and shotguns of all types and sizes. Some guns I have no idea what they are.
“All this must have cost a fortune.”
He smiles. “It’s worth more than that now.” He pulls an AR15 rifle off the rack. “Silence has worked well for us on our journey home. This rifle is a short barreled AR15 chamber in 300AAC Blackout. It works really well with the silencer and the heavy bullets. If I wasn’t trying to be silent, I would take my regular AR chambered in 5.56 NATO. Using 220 gr subsonic ammo for the 300 Blackout, I can get a lot more power than trying to go subsonic with the 5.56.”
“John, I don’t know much about what you’re talking about.”
He retrieves a suppressor from the safe and attaches it to the rifle. “I’m going to give you a course on all these things soon.”
He pulls more gear and pre-loaded magazines out of boxes and straps what he calls his battle belt around his waist. It has pouches already filled with magazines and other pouches along its length.
“See this red mark on the magazines and on the belt? This identifies this belt as being set up for 300 Blackout. The unmarked ones are for the 5.56. I have others as well. I’ll show all this to you later. The color coding reduces the chances of picking up the wrong belt and magazines for the gun it’s set up for.”
He pulls an armor vest over his head and attaches the straps.
Thank You, God, for letting him have armor.
There is a backpack on the floor, much smaller than even the pack I was using. He opens it up and glances inside. “Just like it’s supposed to be,” he remarks.
He drops a few magazines in it and zips it closed. His Glock is transferred over to the holster on the battle belt.
“That’s it except for the radio and my helmet.”
He grabs those two items, then starts inventorying his gear, talking mostly to himself. “Battle belt with AR and Glock magazines – check. IFAK and Trauma Kit – check. Body armor with steel plates and trauma pads – check. Radio – check. Backpack with extra ammo and one day food supplies – check. Water bottle – check, but I need to get more from the kitchen. NVD – I’ll get it when we go upstairs.”
“Why are you taking the NVD? Do you think you will be gone overnight?”
“Just in case. Let’s go up. It’s about time.” He closes and sets the deadbolts, then swings the cabinet closed. “Jill, on the bookshelf right here are the manuals we developed for making our plans and for the smooth operating of our farm. Read over them when you can. It’ll help you understand a lot of what we’re doing. It will also let you know a lot about our property. The really confidential stuff I keep elsewhere. I’ll show you everything.”
“Okay.”
As we head up the stairs, butterflies are forming in my stomach. John stops at the front door and moves closer to me. “Jill, I love you. I will bring our children home.”
I return his embrace and kiss him softly. “I know you will.”
From the front porch, I watch John greet his friends in the driveway, and they make their final plans. Ryan and Ted are dressed and equipped similarly to John. Mr. Johnathan drives up and stops at the parking pad. He gets out and opens the door for Mom.
Like father, like son.
He walks with my mother to the front steps. “I’m going to leave you two ladies alone so you can catch up. Call me on the radio if you need me, and keep your guns on your hips at all times.” He gets in his truck and drives away.
Mother looks at me intently. “Now, tell me about you and John.”
Chapter 58
Jimmy
Deputies
Day 13
My mouth is bleeding. That punk kid smashed me in the face with his rifle. I should have shot him when I had the chance. All of this is his fault.
If he hadn’t come here, things would have worked out. I could have made a deal with the Hiltons, maybe even helped them secure supplies. My family would have been protected, and they would have been fed. That boy came, and everything went to crap!
Still, I had everything under control until Tom Hickman showed up. The idiot sided with the kid. I hope he gets arrested, too.
I check the door. It’s locked from the outside. Damn it!
Pop! Pop! Pop!
The sound of rapid gunfire is loud. As fast as it began, it stops. Maybe the deputies showed up and took care of things.
Soon, someone unlocks the lock. I move further into the room, away from the door, uncertain who is on the other side. The door swings open, and I flinch in anticipation of another assault.
Lynn comes in, fear in her eyes, and runs to me. “Jimmy, you’re hurt!”
“Yeah, courtesy of that punk kid you’ve been sticking up for!”
“I’m sorry, Jimmy. You were right. He is a murderer. He shot those deputies down in cold blood!”
I swallow hard, and goosebumps run down my spine. That could have been me. “Have they left?”
“Yes, they all left with Tom Hickman.”
“Amy, too?”
“Yes, Amy, too. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Jimmy.”
“Tom Hickman! He’s going to pay for interfering with my plans!”
I clean the blood off my face in the bathroom. My lip is busted and swollen. At least he didn’t knock my other front tooth out. Will is going to pay big time.
Lynn runs into the bathroom.
“Jimmy, there are some motorcycles coming down the drive!”
“Were they deputies?”
“I don’t know. Before Will shot them, the other deputies said backup was coming.”
“Okay, stay inside. I’ll go out and talk with them.”
There must be a dozen motorcycles, maybe more. A few are checking on the men on the ground. Then they all race their bikes right up to the porch. Four men get off their bikes and point their rifles at me. I’m shaking so hard it’s difficult to not wet my pants.
They rapidly approach, search me for weapons, and three of them go inside. Lynn screams. I start for the door, but the guy standing next to me slams me against wall and holds me there. In a few minutes, the three men exit the house, one dragging Lynn by the hair.
“There is nobody else inside,” he says.
A huge baldheaded guy gets off an old Harley Davidson. He’s dressed in dirty jeans and a black leather vest. He steps up the porch steps, and the guy holding me lets me go. The man towers over me. He’s a really big man, and I’m scared to death.
“I’m Chief Deputy Clyde Smith. Who are you?”
“J-Jimmy Wright. My n-name is Jimmy Wright. We spoke on the radio.”
“Where are Will and Lizzy? And what happened to my men?”
“Will got loose and bashed me in the face. Then he killed the two deputies.”
“One kid, by himself, killed both of my deputies? I find that hard to believe, Jimmy. I think you’re lying to me.”
“No. I swear. I’m not lying.”
He points at three men. “Follow me into the house. Bring the woman with you. The rest of you stay out here and keep an eye open. We may have more trouble from those black bastards up the highway.”
Men and a few women are dismounting their bikes, looking all around. He shoves me into the house.
“Jimmy, show me where you had these kids locked up.”
He follows me to the kitchen, and I point to the pantry. “He was in there. See?”
He checks the little room and the door over. “Why did you let him out? I told you what was going to happen if he wasn’t here when we arrived.”
“I didn’t let him out. He had help. My…Tom Hickman helped him. I wasn’t expecting Tom to show up here. He pulled a gun on me and smashed me in the face until I gave him the key.”
“That’s a little different than what you said earlier, Jimmy. I don’t have much use for a liar.”
“I’m not lying. I can take you to them.”
He pats the side of my face. “That would be real nice of you, Jimmy.”
“If I take you to them, will you still leave the supplies?”
He laughs out loud. “Where’s your daughter, Jimmy?”
“They took her as a hostage.”
“Jimmy, so there won’t be any more misunderstanding, I think you need a lesson in the consequences of lying to me.”
He nods. Before I can react, the guy behind me slips his arms under mine and clamps his hands behind my neck. I start to struggle but stop when he tightens the hold.
“Rat, show Jimmy here what is going to happen if he lies to me again.”
In a flash, Lynn is slammed face down on the table. One guy grabs her arms and pulls them across the other edge. The other guy pulls her pants off.
“Jimmy!” Lynn screams. “Jimmy, help me!”
There is nothing I can do. The more I struggle, the harder the guy pushes my head down. I stop struggling before he breaks my neck. All I can do is watch Lynn’s face, contorted in pain and fear until finally, it’s over. Lynn slumps to floor and sobs.
“Jimmy, I got a dozen more men outside. If you don’t lead me to those kids, every one of them is going to have a turn with your wife. You understand?”
I nod.
“Good. Rat, cuff her to the closet door. If Jimmy here is lying to us again, we’ll all come back and introduce ourselves to Mrs. Wright. Let’s go!”
The guy who raped Lynn is now dragging her to the closet, but I can’t see anymore as I’m shoved hard toward the front door.
Chapter 59
Jill
A Talk With Mother
Day 13
“Mom, you have no idea how much I have wanted to see you and Lizzy.” I hug my mother tightly, tears in my eyes. “There were moments when I thought I would never see you again.”
“Yes, dear, I know. I thought you were lost to us, but here you are. God is so good. Now tell me about you and John!”
“I will. Let me get my things in from the ATV first.”
“Okay, honey. I have a lot of yours and Lizzy’s things over at Johnathan’s house.”
We both start grabbing the garbage bags containing my clothes and other things.
Between the two of us, we manage to get everything in two trips. Once everything is inside, my mother asks, “Where do you want these?”
“Follow me.”
I lead her into the master bedroom.
“You’re moving in here? Isn’t this the master bedroom?”
I set the bags on the bed. “Mom, I’m going to give you the short answers to the questions you’re wanting to ask right now, then I have to have a bath. Am I sleeping with John? Yes, but it hasn’t been like what you might think. We haven’t become intimate yet. Do I love John? Yes, more than I can express to you or even to him. Does he love me? Yes, I see it in his eyes and in his actions. As soon as John gets back and finds us a preacher, we’re getting married, though I feel like we already are. Now I have to have a shower. I feel grimy. There is coffee in the kitchen. We’ll talk more when I get out.”
I search my bags for the clothes I’ll need, then enter the bathroom and close the door. It’s nice. It has a garden tub, a window overlooking the pond, a walk-in shower, and two large closets. There’s a separate room for the paper work, which makes me smile. It has double sinks with full mirrors. I go to the closets, not certain which one is John’s and which will be mine. I open the one on the left. It’s John’s, no doubt. The gun safe is in here. I open the other, hoping not to find Kathy’s clothing inside. I wouldn’t feel right moving her things, and even though Kathy and I were about the same size, I really don’t want to wear her clothes, either. Opening the door, I breathe a sigh of relief. The closet is empty except for hangers. It’s a large closet, larger than John’s.
I find the towels in the cabinet under the sink. There is Old Spice body wash in the shower caddy. I smell it. Nice, but not on me. I go get my own. I just happen to have a bottle of Bath and Body Works Apple Blossom Body Wash. I get it, along with shampoo and my toothbrush. Returning to the bathroom, I start the shower. The water is hot instantly. I step over to the sink and get John’s razor, just in case.
After a luxurious shower, I stand in front of the mirror, using the towel to wipe the condensation off. I’m not a beauty queen, I know that, but I’ve seen the look in John’s eyes. When he calls me beautiful, he means it. It makes me smile. The journey home has been hard, and I must have lost ten or fifteen pounds. I needed to lose the weight, anyway. My body is trimmer and leaner than before. Most of the bruises on my chest and breasts are gone, except for the red mark left by the
rope where those evil men attacked me, but it’s diminishing, too. The bruise on my face is almost gone, only a faint hint of yellow. A little makeup will cover it up, though I’m not putting any on for now. John already knows exactly what he is getting.
After I am dressed, I fix myself a cup of coffee and join my mother in the great room. There is a large brick fireplace on one wall. The couch and chairs are leather. Yes, there is John’s chair, no doubt. A leather recliner. Noticeably absent is a TV, not that it would be any good now anyway. I sit in a large leather chair across from my mother, tuck my feet underneath me, and take a sip of my coffee.
“Where do you want me to start?”
“From the beginning,” Mother replies.
I think back over the past two weeks. I’m looking straight through the wood-paneled walls, looking through the wall of time. Has it only been two weeks? Why does it seem like a lifetime? How can I describe the things I’ve seen and been through? How can I describe the range of emotions? How do I explain the hardships and pains and the constant struggle to stay alive? The fear, the sorrow, the happiness, and the joy? How can I explain, when I don’t fully understand myself, God’s guiding hand as He led John to me? Nor did He leave me once He placed John by my side. His hedge of protection has remained.
“It’s all right, dear,” Mother says when I hesitate. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, Mother, I want to tell you everything. I was only considering how incredible the journey has been. I can tell you what happened to me, but I’m not sure I can really express what happened inside me.” I take a long sip of coffee. “The journey was incredibly difficult. The day of the EMP, I stayed at the car. I wasn’t sure what else to do, being in a strange area with night fast approaching. The next day, I got my pack Dad insisted I keep in the car and started walking. I found a young mother and her two small children on the side of the road needing help. While I was trying to help them, we were attacked. Mom, Dad saved my life. He didn’t just teach me how to shoot my pistol. He taught me how to use it. That’s what saved my life—being aware and making quick decisions, just like he taught me. It took us all day to walk the ten miles to Mary’s house. I spent the night there. The next day, Mary’s husband gave me a bike with a front basket. I peddled almost to Montevallo. I thought I might be able to make it home in a few days. Then I was attacked. Three evil men rigged a trap across the road, and being in a hurry, I didn’t notice it. It knocked me out. They took me to a barn and were going to…going to…”
