by S. Ison
Putting an arm around her, he assisted her up, wrapping her in blankets and quilts. Paul lead the way through the house, and out through the kitchen.
He turned his head when he heard her soft exclamation, and she surged forward toward Rob. Her husband. Though it was dark, it was apparently light enough for her to recognize her spouse. He watched as the man enfolded his wife, silent as he buried his face into her neck.
Tim felt a sting in his eyes and blinked rapidly behind the NVGs. He knew what the man felt, and hoped Kelly was safe here somewhere. The woman wept softly as she whispered to her husband. Paul leaned forward and said something. She shook her head, and Paul walked to him.
“Said she don’t know iffin anyone else is here. We’ll have ta go room ta room,” Paul said softly.
“Let’s go,” was all Tim could say.
Making their way around the first level, they found no more locked doors. As silently as they could, they made their way up the old warped stairs that creaked alarmingly, which made Tim cringe. Their pointed their weapons ahead, ready and sweeping. There was no help for it.
Once up on the landing, they went to the first door. It was unlocked, and Tim opened it, his teeth clenching at the loud protest of the unoiled hinges.
The next door was locked, and Paul stepped forward with the key and unlocked it. It swung open, squealing as it went. A form moved in the bed, shifting to sit up. His heart dropped. It wasn’t Kelly. He made his way closer, and whispered the same messages to this woman. This time, though, he asked her to wait until they’d checked the other rooms. She nodded silently in acknowledgment.
Backing out, they went to the next room. It was locked too. Paul turned the key and the door opened, thankfully with no loud protests this time. Tim stepped in and looked toward the bed. A woman was under the quilts, curled into a ball. He stepped forward, and the board under his foot creaked.
The woman shot up in the bed, her legs coming under her as though to launch herself at the intruder. Tim’s heart nearly shot out of his throat. It was Kelly!
“Kelly, it’s me, honey,” he whispered hoarsely, almost choking on his tears. She stood on the squeaky bed and waved her arms blindly, a soft mewling sob escaping from her mouth.
He quickly made his way to the bed, lest she fall off and hurt herself. Gathered her in his arms, he felt her legs wrap around his torso in a full body hug. She pushed up the NVGs and grabbed a hold of his face to kiss him all over. He could feel the tears on her face as she wept.
He clutched her tight in his arms, rocking back and forth, one arm around her waist, the other supporting her rump. It seemed like an eternity since he’d last held her. He blinked back the threatening tears.
Breathing deeply, he inhaled the scent that was uniquely her. He could smell fear too. He needed to stay sharp, no matter how badly he wanted to give in to emotion.
His voice was husky when he tried to use it, and he cleared his throat. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” he asked, unable to hide the fear from his voice.
Kelly cried and choked at the same time. “We’re okay, I think. I’m bleeding a little, and having contractions.”
Inexorable fury and fear rushed through his body, coiling like a snake ready to strike. He would kill Chum. He would torture that parasitic bastard.
He didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing Kelly until she squeaked in protest.
“Sorry babe,” he muttered.
“It’s okay,” she said softly, wiping the tears from his face. “I’m so glad you came. Who’s here with you?”
“Paul, Kenny’s son, and two other men. One of their wives was here. We found her. Do you know how many women are in this place?”
“No. I only heard bits and pieces of conversation, and then they moved me up here. I thought I heard two or three others, but I’m not sure,” Kelly said, putting her feet down on the floor.
“Okay. Can you stay here a minute so we can check the other rooms?” Tim asked, his hands cupping her face. “I want to make sure there aren’t any more men, and if there are any other women, we need to get them as well.”
“Okay, but don’t friggin’ take too long,” she said, humor coming back to her voice.
Tim placed his NVGs back on and exited the room, Paul had kindly given them privacy. He found the man in the hall, two more doors opened. The last one was still closed, and he watched Paul walk over and open the door. He looked inside, then shook his head. Tim nodded to Paul, who went to collect the woman from the other room.
All four descended the staircase slowly, Tim’s arm securely around Kelly’s still-slender waist. Paul and the other woman went ahead. They made their way to the kitchen, where they found the others had relit the candle and were sitting at the table. Rob’s wife was seated in his lap, his arms encircled firmly around her.
Tim and Paul pushed up their NVGs as they entered, causing three heads to turn in their direction. John’s face fell. He’d hoped to find his wife too.
“We have to go to the other farmhouse. They’re holding the other women and a child there,” Tim said.
“A child?” Kelly asked, anger rising in her face like a sunrise.
“Yeah, pretty shitty.” He turned to Rob. “Rob, can you stay here and keep guard while we go and take care of those assholes?”
“Ahya, I kin. Good luck. John. Gimm hell,” Rob said,
Bridgman, Michigan
Noxious rolls of gray smoke covered the whole street. It was impossible to see anything, but Mike waited patiently. The cries from the men below echoed down the street. From time to time, a random shot reverberated around the empty buildings.
The adrenaline running through Mike was making him nauseated. He felt and heard his heartbeat, behind his eye and in his ears. He didn’t dare blink as he waited for a target. His eyes scanned back and forth constantly, watching for movement.
Though still early dawn, the light was encroaching and illuminating the smoke, giving it a supernatural luminosity. Mike finally saw movement, and raised his weapon, waiting. The form of a man was staggering forward, something clasped in his hand.
Mike knew he needed to wait until it was a clear kill shot. He watched as the man moved closer, holding what looked like a shotgun. Then he saw another man. This second man staggered about jerkily, and blood covered his face. Perhaps his car bomb had injured the man? All the better.
He hoped Jada would hold off from firing. Too soon, and the man with the shotgun might veer out of range. He blew his breath out. Breathe, breathe. Don’t forget to breathe, his mind yelled at him. He could once again feel the tremors creep through his hands. Gritting his teeth, he fought the adrenaline rush.
It was almost time, and he jerked when he heard the shot from across the way. The man with the bloody face, who’d been behind the man with the shotgun, dropped to the ground. The one with the shotgun whirled around and ran, dropping the shotgun as he went. Taking aim, Mike pulled the trigger, giving a double tap. The man dropped. He watched as blood bloomed out of the man’s back.
“Fuck me!” Mike whispered harshly to himself. He’d got the bastard. He’d killed him! He heard more shots. They were wild, and he looked over toward Jada. He could barely see her through the rising smoke. He signaled for her to get down and stay down. He would wait and watch.
She obeyed, disappearing from sight.
It was becoming difficult to breath with the smoke swirling around. He was grateful for the bandana, as it helped filter the smoke out. Reaching over to his pack, he pulled out a bottle of water, then poured a little over his face, soaking the bandana to make it easier to breath.
Another gunshot resounded. The men were getting desperate.
“You fucker! I’ll kill you, you sick son of a bitch!” a man’s voice screamed from the depths of a building.
It was close. Very close, Mike thought. And he’d said “I,” not “we,” so he was alone. And scared. Perhaps one had been killed in one of the explosions. He hoped the man screaming was the one with the scratches. H
e wanted the bastard’s last minutes on Earth to be pure terror.
For reasons he couldn’t explain to even to himself, Mike pulled down the bandana from his face, lifted his face to the sky, and let loose a long, unnerving howl. Jada mimicked the howl, at a higher pitch, but just as eerie and haunting. It echoed off the walls, and he wondered if his had done the same. Goosebumps rippled up his arms. He could only hope the bastard below felt worse.
Mike grinned, and was pretty sure Jada was grinning too. It was almost over, and he really hoped the shithead would show himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina
Randal’s heart slammed against his ribs. His mouth had lost all moisture so he couldn’t swallow, and his lips trembled uncontrollably. His hands held the steering wheel in a death grip, his ropy knuckles white and blotched. Clive’s warm hand gently grasped his forearm. He felt his breaths shutter from his chest.
They were just passing June Bellville’s home when Randal slowed in shock, his mouth falling open. In the front yard, June’s oldest son was pulling on a pink rope – it looked like a little girl’s jump rope – hoisting up the body of the belligerent man who had tried to sneak onto the island at the inlet.
Clearly, the man was now dead, his chest riddled with gunshot wounds. The stretch of pink rope around the dead man’s neck glittered and reflected the sun. It was so incongruous, Randal felt a hysterical giggle begin to rise in his chest. He feared he was losing his mind.
June nodded, smiling grimly as she watched the young man hoist the body higher on the porch rafter. It looked like they were going to show off their kill, just like in the old west, over a hundred years ago.
Randal pushed the accelerator and flew down the street toward home. They were coming up to the gate when Clive yelled for him to stop, to not to go through the gate. Randal didn’t listen. They could fix the gate later.
He pulled up in front of his home, tires squealing loudly and smoke rising from beneath the truck. All the men poured out before the truck stopped rocking. They looked around wildly, and saw a bloody body on the ground.
Randal’s eyes searched, finally landing on the screen porch. There stood his wife, a smile on her face. He watched as she opened the screen door and descended the wooden steps, then rushed up to her and took the love of his life in his arms. She was trembling, and he heard soft weeping.
“I was so worried about you,” she said into his neck, her voice muffled.
He pulled back to look at her. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t make it back in time. We didn’t know there was another group coming here,” Randal said.
“There are more?” Pearl asked, worry on her ephemeral face, her head turning and looking to the trees.
“June got one. Her son is hanging him from the porch as we speak. Go back into the house, and me and the boys will have a look around. Is everyone else okay?” Randal asked, suddenly remembering the others harboring with Pearl.
“Everyone is fine. David was hit by a stray bullet, but it was only a graze. The children are a little rattled, but fine. We’re keeping them in Greg’s room until we can get rid of the body.”
Randal looked over and watched as Reed and Jimmy moved the body to the truck. He was glad they were there and on top of things. Clive walked up and received a hug from Pearl. He grinned foolishly, and wiped the sweat from his bald pate.
Randal turned to the men. “We’ve got one not accounted for, as that teen said there was three that came here. Let’s go in groups of two. Pearl, go ahead and go back into the house. We’ll be back soon.”
The men got back into the truck and began to drive away slowly. As soon as Randal cleared the smashed-in gate, he stopped and they all got out. He and Clive took the right side of the road, and Reed and Jimmy the left.
They began going house to house. Randal led, going into the yards, watchful of the boobytraps they’d set the week before.
The children were not allowed out of the immediate vicinity of Randal’s home for now, and once the fence was up, they would be able to roam within the bounds of the fence. Most of the traps would only cripple an adult, but could almost certainly kill a child.
As the men moved down the houses, it became clear that none of the traps had been triggered. This made Randal extremely nervous. They couldn’t afford to have someone roaming around the island. They cleared another house and had started to go on to the next when they heard Reed calling from Roy and Laura’s former home.
Randal and Clive arrived to see Reed and Jimmy standing before the front door. The door was open, but the two men were blocking his view. They turned when they heard his approach.
Randal cocked his head to the side, looking around them to see inside. A man was kneeling just inside the door, the point of a harpoon from a deep-sea spear gun sticking five inches out of his back. It was gruesome, but Randal was relieved.
He’d been a bit undecided about some of the boobytraps, like this one, but Reed had assured him that leaving the door slightly ajar would invite strangers in. The spear gun had been set up well into the depths of the house and could not be seen immediately. Opening the door wide triggered the release.
Reed had assured Randal that all their neighbors had been warned not to go near the house unless they had a death wish. He hadn’t told them what the trap was, only that the house had been boobytrapped with a deadly snare.
They buried the bodies away from the houses. It took a couple hours, but finally the job was done. The men were hot and sweaty, but relieved they’d survived the attack. Their planning had saved them. It was late afternoon when the four men returned to Randal’s house.
Getting out of the truck, Randal felt he’d aged a decade. He looked up and saw Pearl waiting at the door, Greg hovering behind her, and smiled. She opened the door and shifted so the boy could go down to meet Randal.
Greg flew recklessly down the stairs and launched himself off the third step and into Randal’s waiting arms, nearly knocking Randal to the ground. He felt someone’s hands on his back, steadying him, and was grateful.
The child wrapped his legs around Randal’s waist. “I was so scared, PawPaw! I thought those bad men were gonna get us. But you saved us, PawPaw! You saved us!” Greg’s high voice squealed with pride.
Randal had a difficult time speaking, between the emotion that choked him and the arms that twined around his neck in a death grip. Unshed tears swam across his eyes as he held his child, this child of his heart.
The unwavering trust Greg had in him nearly buckled his knees. He hugged the boy hard to himself, and walked up to Pearl, who embraced both husband and child.
Randal looked up as the group gathered around them, and felt their hands patting his back, saw them hugging one another. For now, it was over. The threat had been dealt with. Randal couldn’t know what was coming, no one could, but to live a life in fear was a wasted life.
He wanted to raise this child in love, strength, and boundless joy.
Topsfield, Maine
Tim and Paul moved quietly around the second farmhouse. The men were still in the kitchen, laughing and talking. The younger man and the unwilling woman were suspiciously missing. Tim’s tamped-down rage was trying to resurface. It could have been Kelly in there. Thankfully, she was safe at the other house with Rob.
They found a window that was cracked open. With the help of the NVGs, Tim could tell this was a storage room. He and Paul slowly opened the window farther. Inch by inch, the window went up with very little noise. Much to Tim’s relief.
Tim helped Paul up and into the window, then watched as Paul pulled out a Glock and his sharpened Ka-bar knife, then slipped deeper into the house.
Tim moved around toward the front of the house, pulled his Taurus from his chest holster, and readied himself. The plan was for Paul to center himself in the middle of the house. John was at the kitchen window, and Tim was to go to the front door. Once they were all in position, Paul would give a blood-curdling scream �
�� following which, all hell would break loose. Tim would shoot any man coming his way, John would deal with the kitchen, and Paul would subdue anyone coming his way.
Once at the front door, Tim turned the knob and found it unlocked. No surprises there: these men weren’t the brightest bulbs in the pack.
The minutes ticked by, and then Tim heard the most god-awful sound. Though he knew it was Paul, and had been expecting it, a shiver ran through his body, and goosebumps dappled his chilled skin.
Women’s screams and the fearful shouts of men filled the night. The staccato of gunfire came from the location of the kitchen; John had opened fire on the men there.
Carefully, using his NVGs, Tim made his way through the house. Paul walked toward him, indicating he was turning left into what looked like a long hallway.
Tim gave the thumbs up, and continued. He was passing the hall Paul had turned down when a naked man came out of one of the rooms behind Paul, clearly disoriented in the darkness. Tim gave a high-pitched whistle. Paul turned and saw the man. It was the young man who’d been fondling the woman.
Tim watched as Paul pulled out his Ka-Bar, stepped quietly up to the man, and cut him from crotch to sternum in one smooth motion. It surprised Tim. Paul didn’t look weak, but the strength it took to gut a man like that was considerable. Perhaps the enraged Marine had called up the young man of long ago.
Black glossy coils fell to the floor in a warm splat. The young man, still alive and mewing, was unable to scream as his life poured out of him, one heartbeat at a time.
Paul stepped over the lump of humanity, his long legs easily clearing the soon-to-be corpse, and into the room the man had exited from. The grim scent of blood and opened bowels wafted down the hallway. Paul came out moments later, carrying the young woman wrapped up in a sheet. Tim hoped they’d gotten to her in time before the rape.
He moved to the room where he thought the child was located. He didn’t have a key, so kicked in the door. A child’s cry came from inside the room.
