by Schow, Ryan
Chapter Thirty
Leighton McDaniel
The second Leighton realized she’d been shot, it reminded her that Gator had been shot as well. She gasped and wheezed, holding her chest, feeling the stiffness, the discomfort, the sheer agony of all of it. Looking up, shielding her eyes from the sun, she saw the man standing over her. Gator was suddenly there, like an angel, illuminated. Was he taking her off to heaven? Was he her escort?
Looking down on her, he smiled and said, Look at you. You popped your cherry and everything.
“It freaking hurts,” she said, still having a hard time breathing.
He reached down and picked her up by the sides of her bulletproof vest. When she landed on her feet, she found that she could stand.
We used to shoot each other while wearing these things when there was nothing left to drink, no one around to screw, and only time on our hands.
“You were in the Army, though,” she said. “I’m a civilian.”
You’re going to be bruised pretty good, and it’s going to hurt, but when you see the loot we got, it should be worth it.
She looked over and saw Marilyn trying to get up. But instead of getting to her feet, she rolled over, saw Derek and started screaming, or sobbing. Leighton couldn’t tell. But then she could. Yeah, the woman looked like she was sobbing.
“Derek,” Leighton felt herself say.
Garrity came out of the building, said, It’s clear, then looked over at his deputies and his mood changed completely. He hurried over to Derek, stopped, then looked down at him. Marilyn grabbed his pant leg in a fist while she cried, and it was all very sad. He knelt down beside her, held her, maybe even cried with her.
Hudson appeared a moment later, then stopped when he saw what had happened. Leighton looked up at Gator, hoping he’d say Derek was okay, that it was all going to be just fine.
Bullet proof vests don’t stop head shots, Gator said, although he could be whispering.
She turned to Hudson, saw the man standing paralyzed, barely even blinking. She didn’t know Derek very well, even though she’d seen him around a time or two. Still, a terrible sadness overtook her. It overtook Hudson, too, which surprised her. Then again, you don’t have to have a heart to lament the fact that another good man had traded his life for the worthless lives of scumbags.
Marilyn got up, hand covering her mouth, torture in her eyes as she walked off. Hudson went after her, to console her. But Garrity remained still. Then, he bent down and lifted Derek’s body up. A veritable soup drained out the back of Derek’s skull, splashing in the dirt below.
Get me a vehicle, Garrity said with wet eyes.
Gator nodded then looked at Leighton and said, Can you walk?
“I’ll follow you,” she said.
She was short of breath and felt like she’d been donkey kicked in the chest, but the McDaniel bloodline didn’t have an ounce of quit in it, so she did what needed doing and she didn’t utter a word of complaint.
Looking at Marilyn, she refused to acknowledge her own woes, for the physical pain she felt could never eclipse the emotional pain that lay naked in Marilyn’s and Garrity’s eyes. Derek was one of theirs. He was family.
Leighton and Gator found a couple of old cars, a sure sign that they’d been dealing with the Hayseed Rebellion. Unfortunately, the keys weren’t anywhere in sight.
Gonna have to see if these guys have them on their person, Gator said.
Separately, they spread out and rifled through the pockets of the dead guys. Gator found a set first. While he went to see what car or truck said keys went to, Garrity sat Derek down against the hardware store. The effort took a toll on him. He hadn’t looked good at the start of all of this; now dealing with the death of his deputy, and likely his friend…it just made matters worse.
“What will you do with him?” Leighton asked.
I don’t know, he said, justifiably distraught. Probably take him to hallowed ground, give him a proper burial.
He nodded his head, like she should turn and look behind her. She turned and saw Gator dangling a set of keys.
“I’ll be back,” she said. Then: “I’m really sorry, Sheriff.”
He gave an appreciative nod, but she could tell he was staving off a meltdown. She walked over to Gator, took the keys, then found that it started up an old flatbed. She got in, looked at the archaic controls, then realized she could probably operate it. Best to just give it a go and see how well she did.
She put the key in the ignition, twisted it, then felt the engine rumble to life. The shaking was so hard, however, it felt like a rough body massage. Normally that would have been okay, but after being shot, even with the bullet proof vest on, it was pure hell on her body.
She ground the gears, trying to find the right slot. Finally, she muscled the transmission into first gear. After that, she fought to strike the right balance between the accelerator and the clutch. She stalled out twice before finding success on the third try. But even then, she would have broken someone else’s back from all the jerking around.
Garrity waved her over. She pulled the truck up next to him, slid the transmission into neutral, and waited as Gator helped Sheriff Garrity load Derek onto the flatbed. She got really nervous thinking of how badly she was driving. Would she be adding insult to injury if she shook Derek’s body off the truck and into the street, or the dirt, as it were?
Garrity hopped up on the back of the truck, then used one of the chains to secure Derek’s body to the bed.
Oh, thank you God!
He then hopped down next to Gator, and Gator walked up to her window. She rolled it down and said, “What are we doing?”
We need to load up all the loot.
She shut off the engine, secured the parking brake, then hopped out, ready to take direction. On the back of the flatbed, there were smears of blood underneath Derek’s head. It made her sick to her stomach and sad at the same time.
Marilyn walked up to Garrity and said, What are we going to do about Derek?
“He’s not getting any deader,” Leighton replied. She was surprised by this cold, calculating part of her. But she started it, so she went with it. “Let’s do what we came here to do, or we just leave everything and Derek died in vain.”
We’re not leaving shit, Hudson said.
Marilyn glared at her, jaw slack, eyes wet and offended. You heartless twat, she said.
Leighton just looked at her, then she walked forward, ready to fight if need be, and said, “Guys like these ran over my boyfriend, but only after they shot him multiple times. I held him as he died, and then I killed the two assholes who did it. I put a shotgun to their heads and pulled the trigger.”
The sadder she got, the more pissed off she became. Even worse, she let her anger flare, and that somehow put her much closer to Marilyn than she should have been.
For the first time since the EMP took her hearing aids, she felt herself getting louder. It was the tension in her muscles, the strain in her neck, the way she leaned forward, wanting every single word to hit the deputy like a punch to her soul. She didn’t even know why she did this, or how she’d come to act so far out of character, but it was like seeing the grief in everyone’s eyes kept the pain of loss alive in her.
“Then I went with Hudson and Kenley—who also had her father gunned down by these pricks—and we burned almost a hundred of them to death. We roasted them and watched them cook!”
She was getting closer still, so close she saw her spittle landing on the woman’s face.
“You think I’m a heartless twat, I’ll tell you for damn sure that you’re right!”
With no other way to expel her emotions, she shoved the woman as hard as she could. Marilyn landed on her butt and sat there for a second. The woman had been shot three times in the vest, which had Leighton feeling worse than ever.
But before she could apologize or even reach down and help her to her feet, Marilyn got up, dusted herself off, and punched Leighton right in the face
.
Leighton took the shot with grace, stumbled backward a step, then looked at the woman and started to laugh.
This isn’t funny!
Leighton put her hands up, walked toward her slowly. Marilyn didn’t know what was happening, but then Leighton put her arms around her and said, “I’m sorry about Derek. And I’m sorry for being a jerk. I don’t know what just came over me.”
The woman let herself be held, then she put her arms around Leighton and they held each other because, truthfully, both women needed it.
When she was done, Leighton let Marilyn go, spit out a bloody loogie, then said, “Let’s strip this place clean and kick rocks.”
Gator grinned at her, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he might have even looked proud. When they finally finished, they drove back to the Sheriff’s Office where Gator saddled up on the Harley and asked Sheriff Garrity what was next.
The Sheriff said, I’m done with this place. There’s nothing we can do here anymore. Not with this state, and not with what’s coming down the pike. Laura’s at my house, let’s convene over there.
Without anything more than a few minor incidents, they drove through town straight to Garrity’s house. The dispatcher saw they had arrived without Derek, shook her head no, then teared up when Garrity got out of Marilyn’s beater and held her.
She hobbled to the back of the truck, a teary-eyed mess, saw Derek, then let out a wail that Leighton could see as plain as day. The woman’s pain cut Leighton to the core. Laura took hold of Derek’s arm, held onto it while she worked through a torrent of emotions.
Garrity went to her and embraced her, but she broke away from him and set her eyes back on the brave young man who died that afternoon. Still crying, Laura smoothed Derek’s hair back, and in that moment, Leighton was thankful that she’d lost her hearing. To have to hear the torture in Laura’s voice would have broken her.
As it were, Leighton turned away from the scene, blocked out the pain as best as she could, then helped unload exactly half the loot into Garrity’s place. Per their original agreement, they left the other half on the truck. Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned and saw Hudson.
You want to drive and I’ll man the guns? he asked.
She nodded, ambivalent either way.
When they got Derek off the back of the truck, Gator promised to return so they could take him to the cemetery and bury him. Gator then walked up to her and said, Why don’t you and Hudson follow me.
She gave a wordless, affirmative nod. “We’re going back to your place, right?”
That’s the plan.
“You want to double check the loot? It’s not going to be easy getting up that hill with this pig,” she said, referring to the flatbed.
He jumped on the back of the truck, started pulling at things here and there, then looked up and gave her the thumbs-up.
“And we’re off,” she said.
Hudson remained silent, almost like he was still replaying the events from this afternoon. Or maybe that was just her. At least he hadn’t been shot in the whole ordeal. The crazy thing was, of them all, he was the one with the death wish.
They were cruising down US-27 when Hudson patted her thigh, causing her to look over at him. He graced her with a rare and tired smile. You really kicked ass back there. I never told you, but I would fight side-by-side with you anywhere.
“I got shot,” she said, dismissing the compliment.
Yeah, well, you got shot and you’re driving me home. What does that say about you?
“That I’m a true McDaniel.”
If that means you’ve got as much heart as you do fight, then I would say yes, you do have the McDaniel blood Gator warned me about.
After hearing that, she decided not to dismiss the compliment. If she had the famed—rather, the infamous—McDaniel bloodline, then she was closer to her family than ever. Especially Walker. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Would he be proud of who she had become, or would it break his heart? Either way, that bridge was crossed, then blown up, and put firmly in her rearview mirror.
Gator navigated the Harley up the hill, avoiding a few of the more exposed rocks, bottoming out on one, then goosing the throttle until the back tire broke loose and kicked dirt and rocks all over the flatbed’s windshield. While Gator tried to work through it, Leighton just sat there idling, her body getting the roughest massage ever.
As she suspected, it proved to be hard for her to get up the hill. It wasn’t just the terrain that made things difficult. It was her trying not to stall out on the hill, roll backward, and kill them both. Hudson looked back every so often just to make sure the load hadn’t shaken loose.
“We good still?” she asked.
He nodded every time.
She stalled out twice, got really nervous, then looked at Hudson in case he wanted to tell her how badly she sucked at what she was doing. When she glanced over, however, he looked patient, like he had no where else to be and this was perfect.
You got this, he said when she looked at him too long.
“Are you sure?”
It’s either I sit on this semi-comfortable seat, or I pull up a log in front of a smoky fire. Of course, I’m sure.
When he grinned, she laughed, and then she promptly stalled the truck again.
He tapped her leg, then said, Just relax, it’s okay.
She stalled out a few more times, but then she rocked her way up over a few testy mounds, rode the side of a turn that had tire-tracked ruts, and somehow managed to crest the hardest part of the hill. A moment later, she drove into the fields, Gator’s place coming into view. With a triumphant grin, she continued on to the house.
Gator was walking back to them, but then he stopped, smiled, and gave her a bow, followed by a congratulatory clap.
She felt her smile take over, but then a flash of Derek shot into her mind and she put her smile away. A good man was dead, she’d killed more people, and she’d been shot. If not for the vests, she, Gator, and Marilyn would be dead.
God, all those times I cheated death…
Was Death going to get what was his eventually? She imagined he was. And if he did, if Death came for her before she saw her parents, Rowan, or Marley again, she might almost welcome it. She knew what the world ahead had to offer, and it wasn’t something she was all that excited about accepting.
When she parked the truck in front of the house and they unloaded everything, Buck ran up and hugged her. She kissed him on the forehead and started to think that if all else failed, she at least had him. She couldn’t fail him.
What an odd thought, she mused.
In that moment, looking down at that face that was full of delight to see her, she decided that living was more important than dying. If not for her, then for Buck.
He’d grown up with a man who was nothing but flat-out evil. Now Buck had her—a woman who could do evil things but at her heart was good, loving, and patient.
Maybe they were destined for each other. Maybe he was her reason not to fully give herself over to the darkness inside of her.
Looking at Gator, she asked, “What now?”
Now we get drunk and eat like kings, he said. Today was a big victory, you did great. All of us did.
He popped the top on a warm beer, handed it to her, and they clinked bottles.
To Derek, he said.
“May God keep and protect him,” Leighton added.
She took a sip, swallowed it with a funny look, then said, “Nothing like drinking warm piss to let everyone else know who has the biggest balls in town.”
Gator started to laugh, then he said, To our balls.
“To our big ass balls.”
After she put away half the ale, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. There, with a little light left in the day, she unbuttoned her shirt, pulled the neck of her t-shirt down, then looked down at the fist-sized start of what would become a ghastly bruise.
She touched the affected area and winced. Nothing was broken,
and though it still hurt a bit to breathe, she knew she’d be fine. Looking at herself in the mirror, she didn’t recognize her own face. Once she was beautiful. She frowned, narrowed her eyes, then stared at herself, unblinking. Beautiful was a thing of the past. Now, all she wanted was to be tough.
Outside, she sat next to Buck and Gator, putting away the other half of her beer. As the sun made its final descent into the horizon, she thought of her family, and how she longed for them. Buck held her hand, curling his little fingers over hers. Then, before the last light of day had been extinguished, Hudson finally joined them. He handed her another beer, popped the tops on each bottle, then said, To us as a team.
The three of them toasted.
“And to turning the tables on those pricks,” she said.
Everyone toasted, again, including Buck this time, who had a small cup of juice Gator had given him.
Night fell hard, the mosquitos came out, and Leighton’s body began to hurt. But sitting around the fire with the guys, thoroughly buzzed as she was, she didn’t have a worry in the world.
Later, however, when she lay down in bed, the inky darkness would hold her in its dark cocoon, leaving her only with her thoughts, her worries, her concerns.
Looking at Buck in the firelight, seeing his eyes heavy with sleep, and his posture sagging like he’d need to be carried to bed soon, she thought, At least we’re alive, and safe.
For now…
Chapter Thirty-One
Colt McDaniel
Faith didn’t want to stay in their missing son’s home, not in absolute darkness, and not with everyone she loved missing while the world was in total disarray. But Colt told her she had no choice, so she found a way to accept it.
He kissed her goodbye and said, “If you hear someone come in the house and I don’t give you the code word, make sure it’s not Rowan, then shoot to kill. You got it?”
“What’s the code word?” she asked.
“It’s up to you.”
“How about hot dogs?” she suggested, using humor to mask her fear.
