by Skylar Finn
“What’s possible?” I asked. I looked over my shoulder. Just being back in the drug store again made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I felt like Dexter’s men might come in any second and start firing.
“They seem to have their own peculiar code of ethics,” he said. “They believe there’s a prescribed order to things, I think. If they know how far outside of that these scumbags are operating, they might be moved to action. That is, if they think it might affect them. I don’t know.”
“It’s something,” said Ethan. “We should get out of here. Check the hardware store and the general store. See if there’s anything we can use. We’ve got to get back to the ranch before he comes back with new terms.”
“I have keys to both,” said Tom. “We all had spare keys for each other’s places. Just in case.” He was quiet again, as if thinking about exactly how bad ‘just in case’ had turned out to be.
Dexter and his crew hadn’t hit the general store yet, or the hardware store. The general store was silent as a tomb. Ethan found an unloaded twenty-gage beneath the front counter.
“I’m sure old Bill hasn’t left his place since the EMP happened,” said Tom. “He always said something like this was going to happen.”
The Phillips family, who owned the hardware store, didn’t keep any weapons there, but we were able to stock up on supplies we thought we might need for infiltrating the farmhouse.
We went back to the feed store and behind the dumpster, where the Jeep was now sagging from the weight of everything Ethan had gathered. “I think we should drop this stuff off and check on Peterman before we try to talk to these people,” he said as he backed slowly and carefully out of the parking lot. “The less we have on us, the better.”
I turned to Tom in the backseat. “When was the last time you ate something?”
“I don’t remember.” Tom stared out the window, watching the road roll by.
“We’ll get you something to eat,” I said. “Maybe you can rest up before we do this.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again,” he said flatly. I didn’t dispute this. I knew just how he felt.
On the way back to the ranch, I imagined any number of dire fates might have befallen Peterman in our absence: kidnapped, killed, left as a message to us. I remembered what Dexter said about him seeming useful and told myself he was probably okay. Even so, I was flooded with an overwhelming feeling of relief when we reached the main road and I saw him in the distance, on the rooftop, keeping watch.
Ethan let me and Tom out at the top of the drive while he pulled into the barn and checked on Clover. Peterman went to the edge of the roof and began to climb the ladder as we walked into the yard. I went up the porch steps and opened the front door for Tom. He gazed around the living room at the wreckage, stunned.
“My God,” he said. “What happened here?”
“Dexter and his people,” I said without elaborating. I went into the kitchen. Tom followed.
“How did you survive?” he asked wonderingly. I dug around the pantry and pulled out a can of ravioli, which I’d always considered a comfort food. I tossed it to Tom and he caught it.
“Peterman thinks they didn’t want to kill us,” I explained. “He thinks the whole thing was a diversion to take Grace.”
“Well, I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded if they had,” said Peterman, coming into the kitchen. “There would have been that much fewer of us to deal with.” He looked curiously at Tom, then extended his hand. “Charles Peterman.”
“Tom Davidson,” Tom said, taking it.
Peterman’s eyes widened. “I didn’t realize they had a son,” he said. Something else occurred to him and he turned to me, anguished. “Oh, but Charlie--you must have thought I meant he was dead, too.”
I shook my head. “There was a lot going on,” I said. “I’m just relieved he’s not.”
“We’re all relieved you’re not,” said Ethan, coming in with a propane tank in each hand. He set them gently on the kitchen floor before turning to Peterman. “There are a lot more of them than we initially realized,” he said. “We’re going to have to go with your plan after all. Tom’s made deliveries out there and he thinks he can get us in.”
Tom bit his lip. “You’re not going to like this,” he said, and Ethan’s gaze slid toward him. “But it might be best if only Charlie and I go.”
It was clear Ethan didn’t care for this idea in the slightest. “Why is that?” he asked, an edge in his tone.
“They know me,” he said. “And they don’t hurt women or children. I overheard a couple of them talking once, when I was making a delivery, about what they thought should be done to rapists and child molesters. But a strange man…” he trailed off, clearly indicating what fate might befall the unexpected appearance of a man they didn’t know.
Ethan bit his lip. He clearly didn’t relish the thought of sending me into an unknown situation with a myriad of variables.
“And we should go there unarmed,” Tom added.
Ethan’s scowl deepened. “Absolutely not,” he said. “I’m not sending Charlie into some nut farm unarmed.”
“It will be a sign of good faith and good will if we’re not armed,” insisted Tom. “I know a little bit about these people. If we’re completely vulnerable and in no way a threat, they won’t treat us as hostile entities. If we go riding in like Wyatt Earp and Calamity Jane, forget it.” He shook his head.
I could see Ethan weighing his options. He looked at me. “Charlie?” he asked.
I wasn’t thinking of myself when I answered. All I could think about was Grace. “I’ll go,” I said immediately.
“All right,” he said reluctantly. “The sooner the better. But--”
We didn’t get a chance to hear his condition. His words were cut off by the sound of three shots, fired into the air outside, in the rhythm of someone knocking on the front door. I didn’t need to look outside to know who it was.
Dexter was back.
19
We froze in place in the kitchen. His shouts echoed through the massive hole in the living room wall.
“All right, pigs,” he yelled. “I got something that you want. You’re gonna come out real slow, with your hands in the air. I want you all in a line on this porch. Then I’m gonna lay out my conditions. You try anything funny, or do anything other than what I tell you to--the kid gets it. Now get out here.”
Any trace of the maniacal humor he projected during his initial visit was gone. He sounded deadly serious.
He doesn’t know you’re here, I mouthed to Tom, who had turned pale at the sound of his parents’ murderer. Stay here. Tom gave a slight nod. The rest of us stood and filed onto the porch in a single line.
Dexter wore an ugly, twisted look on his face. Two new goons I’d never seen flanked his left and right. They were all heavily armed and looked like they were just itching to shoot us.
“I tried real hard to play fair and work with ya,” said Dexter. “But you folks just didn’t want to cooperate. So then it had to get ugly. I didn’t want to take your daughter, but you left me with no choice. I don’t hurt kids. I’m not a monster. I hope you won’t leave me with no choices again.”
He stared at us all in turn. Each of us gazed back, expressionless.
“So instead of sharing, which equals caring, I’m gonna have to resort to taking. I want your horse, or horses; whatever you got in that barn over there. I want all your food and water, and I want your weapons. In spite of the willful show of ignorance you put on during my previous visit, I’m feeling generous. I’m going to give you till tomorrow to gather up everything that you have and have it ready for me. I want it all spread out across the lawn, organized nice and pretty, no booby traps. Nothing weird. This time tomorrow. Then and only then will you get your daughter back.”
He walked up the steps and jabbed Ethan in the chest, hard. “You got me, hoss?” he asked, sticking his face in Ethan’s.
“I got you,” said Ethan i
n a low voice.
“Good,” said Dexter, unsmiling. “I’m glad to see we’re all on the same page.”
He nodded to his followers. They mounted their horses, their guns still trained on us. Dexter descended the steps and climbed onto his black horse. He flicked the reins and galloped off. Only then did his goons lower their guns and ride after him.
“Tomorrow?” Peterman looked at us as he lowered his arms. “That gives us hardly any time to prepare.”
“I know,” said Ethan. He looked at me. His expression was grave. “That means you and Tom will have to go to the compound as soon as possible.”
“I know,” I said. “We’ll leave right away. But if they don’t agree, or refuse to help in time--”
“Then we’ll go through with the trade,” Ethan said. “Or at least make them think that we are. We’ll put everything out for them. It’s not a small amount. It will require quite a few of them to get it all back in one trip. They’ll be at their most vulnerable at the house. They won’t expect anything to happen there.”
It seemed like a risky gambit: surely they would notice if any of us were missing when they showed up tomorrow. But at the same time, what choice did we have? I already knew they were planning to kill Ethan and hold Peterman and me captive along with Grace. This was our only chance: to save Grace, and to save ourselves.
“Peterman and I will start getting ready here,” said Ethan.
“Tom and I will head to the compound,” I said. “We’ll go on Clover.”
“Good,” said Ethan. “We don’t want them to know what we have. These people are an unknown element as far as I’m concerned. Let’s not take any unnecessary risks.”
Inside, Tom gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white. He didn’t look up when we came into the kitchen. Ethan went over and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder.
“I know,” he said. “I wanted to kill them, too.”
Tom looked up. His eyes were red. “We have to make this right,” he said.
“We will,” I said. “Are you ready to go?”
He nodded, determined. “I’m ready whenever you are,” he said.
It was dusk when I saddled up Clover. Ethan watched us from the front porch as we got on the horse and turned toward the gate to leave.
“Charlie,” he said, and I paused, looking back. He came over to the horse, reached out, and squeezed my hand. It was something he normally did before for no reason at all: on his way to the refrigerator, watching TV on the couch. But now it was noticeable because of how distant he’d become since this all started. It reminded me of the Ethan he’d been before this all happened; it reminded me that he was still the same Ethan he’d been all along. Maybe we could still go back to the people we were before, once all of this was over.
“Be careful,” he said.
“I will,” I said. I flicked the reins and Clover trotted off down the lane. I didn’t look back. If I had, and seen him watching us go, it would have only made it that much harder for me to leave.
It was dark when we got to the bottom of the long, winding drive Tom told me led up to the compound. I dismounted Clover and Tom followed.
“I’d like to leave her down here, I think,” I said, hitching her to the nearby fence post.
“I understand.” He waited quietly, but it was apparent that his mind was elsewhere. Thinking, no doubt, of the task ahead of us.
“Do you know any of their names?” I asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “The order was always for Wentworth, so I assume at least one of them goes by that name. Although a different person always answered the door, so it’s difficult to say which one of them was Wentworth.”
“Didn’t you say the leader hid out in the back?” I asked as we climbed the steep and winding driveway. In the distance, I could see tiki torches burning on either side of the front porch. “Maybe none of them was.”
We were only halfway to the door when I heard the click of a pistol being cocked. In the darkness, I couldn’t tell what direction the sound came from.
“Freeze,” ordered an unseen voice. “Hands in the air.”
Tom and I stopped and obediently raised our hands in the air. It was the second time that day I’d been held at gunpoint. I guess this was the new world order.
Two men materialized from the darkness and boxed us in on either side, their guns trained on us. The first approached Tom and patted him down while the second kept his gun trained on us. He squinted at Tom in what little torch light there was this far from the porch.
“Grocery Boy?” he said. “That you?”
“Yes,” said Tom. “Are you Wentworth? We were never formally introduced.”
The man laughed. “You better hope Wentworth doesn’t find out you thought he was me,” he said. “Or vice versa. Name’s Benny.” Benny turned to me. “I’m going to have to search you, ma’am, but I assure you, I mean nothing untoward,” he said. I remembered what Tom said about their ethics regarding women.
The second man studied Tom while Benny performed a cursory search on me for weapons. “This is the kid that delivers the groceries?”
“Yeah, you recognize him, EJ. Comes up once a month. How’s your dad?”
“He’s dead,” said Tom. “That’s why we’re here.”
Benny studied him. “That group of sumbitches think they’re the law now?” Tom nodded.
“They took my daughter,” I said.
“We’re sorry for your losses,” said EJ. “But I’m gonna let you know right now it’s our policy not to help anybody but ourselves. We take care of our own and that’s that.”
“What if we could offer you something in return?” I asked. “For your help, I mean.”
Benny mulled this over, then glanced at EJ. “Wentworth’s not into charity,” he said. “But he does like to barter and trade. We could get you an audience with the big man, if you really have anything worth bargaining.”
“We do,” I said and left it at that.
“I respect your will not to disclose your assets freely,” said EJ. “But rest assured, if you don’t have anything of value and are perceived as having wasted the big man’s time, he will most likely consider wasting you.”
“Aw, not Grocery Boy!” protested Benny.
“Even Grocery Boy,” said EJ firmly. “He’s not delivering anymore. His usefulness to us is questionable at best. Rules are rules.”
“We understand,” said Tom. “We don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”
“Good, cause I don’t want to be in trouble for bringing you to him if you don’t have anything to say,” said Benny. He gave a little jerk of his head. “Walk in front of us, please.”
We made our way to the top of the hill. Benny opened the front door while EJ walked behind us. They ushered us into the living room and stopped in front of a low-slung couch. A fire crackled in the fireplace in front of a cowhide rug. A deer’s head was mounted to the wall, its final expression startled and afraid.
“Sit,” said Benny. We sat.
Benny disappeared while EJ hovered in the sole doorway in the room. Tom stared into the fire while I looked at the deer. It gave me a feeling of trepidation. I wondered if we’d done the right thing by coming here.
I thought about Grace. I wondered what she was doing right now. Was she lonely? Afraid? Did she know we were coming for her, or was she scared that we never would? What if these people couldn’t help us? What if we never made it out of this alive?
I was shaken from these morbid thoughts by the sound of shouts from the back of the house. I exchanged glances with Tom, who looked as alarmed as I felt. Was this the infuriated reaction of Wentworth, informed of our unexpected and uninvited presence?
But it wasn’t that. Benny rushed into the room and grabbed EJ. “We’re under attack!” he shouted. “They’re out back!” EJ ran from the room. Benny cast a fast glance at the couch.
“I suggest you folks take cover,” he said. He ran out after EJ.
/> I hit the floor and crawled under the couch. Tom crouched behind a nearby chair. I could hear the distant sound of automatic gunfire from somewhere outside. I pulled myself across the stone floor towards Tom.
“We need to get to someplace more secure,” I said.
“Agreed,’ he said. “If somebody comes in here, we’re done for.”
“If any of them comes in here, we’re done for,” I said. “I don’t think anybody but those two know we’re here. Which means all of them will assume we’re with the group they’re not in and shoot us.”
I slid out from underneath the couch and crawled over to the doorway, looking back and forth down the hallway. There was no one inside the house. Yet. The next nearest room was down the hall on the left. I made a run for it, staying low to the ground. Tom followed.
Just as we reached it, a door at the end of the hallway burst open, and Benny backed through it, firing at someone in front of him. I pulled Tom into the room and closed the door behind us. I reached up and fumbled with the doorknob in the dark until I found the lock and turned it. I felt carpeting under my hands and knees and reached out blindly in the dark. I felt a length of hard wood next to my right hand.
“I think there’s a desk in here,” I said to Tom. “I’m going to try and see if I can fit under it. Is there anything near you?”
“This feels like a closet,” came Tom’s voice in the dark. “At least, I think it’s a closet.” I heard the sound of a door opening. “There’s just enough room for me here. Are you under the desk?”
I crawled around the edge of the wood and bumped into a wheel attached to metal: a chair. I pushed it aside and groped around until I felt a small, hollow space. I crawled forward and tucked myself inside it. If I folded my body up like an accordion, I could just fit in the space. “I can fit,” I said.
We fell silent in our respective hiding places. The gunfire went on, rapid fire of automatic weapons punctuated with the longer, rhythmic blasts of a shotgun. Then came the sound of an explosion. The floor beneath us shook. I curled into an even tighter ball, hugging my knees to my chest with one arm and covering my head with the other. There was a pronounced silence that somehow seemed even louder than the gunfire.
