Suddenly, Randall saw Spence burst out of the tall grass in front of him. Though wounded in the leg, he charged Randall in a rage with his hatchet.
Randall fired one shot that struck Spence in the shoulder. The impact from the bullet slowed his speed down but he continued to charge forward, screaming at the top of his lungs.
Randall fired another shot that struck him in the gut, and then another to the chest. Spence stumbled forward and fell dead at Randall’s feet.
Just then, Sara jumped up from behind Randall’s position and tackled him to the ground, sending another shot into the air.
Randall lost his grip on the pistol and it tumbled somewhere into the grass.
Sara gripped Randall around the throat in an attempt to strangle him, but he managed to also grab her around the neck with one hand and then punch her across the face with the other, sending her tumbling aside.
Seizing his opportunity, Randall recovered the Walther and swung around to see Sara in the process of picking herself back up and drawing her knife.
“Don’t try it,” Randall warned, his pistol aimed at her head. “Turn around and run away.”
Sara didn’t even take Randall’s warning into suggestion. With a violent scream she charged Randall again and with one shot she was dead on the ground in front of him.
Randall ejected the now nearly empty magazine on the Walther and recovered the spare mag that he had seen on Sara’s belt to reload.
He then turned around to see that Joe was still standing there in absolute amazement at what Randall had just done. Blood was draining out of his four gaping bullet holes and his entire shirt and jacket were crimson red.
Joe coughed up blood as he managed to say, “Wow. Didn’t see that coming.”
Randall walked up to Joe and put the muzzle of the PPQ to his forehead. He so desperately wanted to pull that trigger right now.
“Do it,” Joe gurgled over more coughed up blood.
Randall shook his head and lowered the pistol.
“No, I’ve already spent four bullets on you,” Randall said. “I don’t think I’ll waste another.”
With that, Randall pushed Joe to the ground with his hand.
Leaving Joe to bleed out and die, Randall spotted and approached Duncan, who was trying to hide in the tall grass.
“Poor hiding spot,” Randall remarked.
Duncan, shaking in fear greatly, put his hands up and slowly rose.
“Please, I don’t have a gun,” Duncan whimpered. “I’m begging you, let me go. All I did was what Joe told me to do. Please, don’t kill me! Please!”
Duncan completely broke down sobbing, his face filled with redness and tears pouring from his eyes.
“Looks like you really are a coward then,” said Randall without an ounce of emotion in his voice.
Randall raised his pistol and aimed it between Duncan’s eyes.
Staring down the 9mm bore of the Walther, Duncan fell to his knees again and covered his face with his hands.
“Please don’t kill me! Please! I’m not like them I swear! I was only with them to stay alive in all this! I’m not like them! I swear I didn’t want to do any harm to you! Please let me live! Please! Please!” he sobbed on and on for over a minute.
Finally, Duncan pulled his face away from his hands to look back up at his conqueror.
But to his surprise, nobody was there. Duncan looked around the clearing, but Randall was nowhere to be seen.
He had left without a sound.
Chapter Twenty Three
Outside Garden City
The Parker family had positioned themselves on a hill overlooking Garden City sprawled out in the valley front of them.
Just as Barry had mentioned earlier, Garden City was hardly a city. It was simply a small town with a neighborhood, a gas station, a couple of small diners, a single grocery store, and a church building.
The sign outside of the town itself read “Welcome To Garden City - Population 164.” Clearly, this was the kind of town where everybody knew everybody.
There were also a few people walking around in the streets, but for the most part everyone was indoors as far as they could tell. Numerous vehicles, incapable of working due to the EMP, littered the streets and dirt parking lots.
“I’ll go in,” Thomas finally broke the silence.
“Just you?” Barry asked.
“Yeah.”
“What about backup?”
“You can watch me through binoculars from up here. If I turn to face this hill and wave both arms, it means come on down. If I only wave one arm, it means turn around and hightail it was far away as you can.”
Thomas checked the load on the Colt Peacemaker revolver that Barry had given him. Once he confirmed it was fully loaded with all 6 shots, he holstered it in his gun belt.
“It’s not a good idea to go alone, Thomas,” said Marcus.
“You and uncle Bruce are in no condition to come with your injuries,” Thomas said back.
“Then bring Jane,” suggested Bruce.
“I still think I should go alone,” Thomas argued. “We can’t risk more lives.”
Barry turned to the rest of the family.
“Who all thinks Jane should go with Thomas?” Barry asked.
Marcus, Bruce, Susan, Angela, Christine, and Claire all raised their hands.
“Then it’s settled,” Barry told Thomas. “Bring Jane with you.”
* * *
Thomas and Jane strode down the highway leading into Garden City, stepping past the welcome sign and into the boundaries of the city.
The rest of the family remained hidden on the hill behind them, watching through binoculars and rifle scopes carefully.
“You armed?” Thomas asked.
“Yeah,” Jane replied, lifting her jacket to reveal the grip of Randall’s Beretta in her waistband.
“Keep it hidden,” Thomas ordered.
Once the two of them had stepped far enough into the town and past the gas station, they began to attract the attention of the citizens who were walking along the sidewalk.
“Who are you?” one of the citizens, an older man in his 60s, asked.
Thomas and Jane stopped.
“Who’s the leader of your town?” Thomas asked.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” the old man snapped back in an abrasive tone.
“We’ll talk to your leader,” Thomas stood his ground. “I take it you must not have visitors often?”
The old man whispered into the ear of an older woman next to him, probably his wife, and she nodded and headed over to the church building.
The old man suspiciously kept his gaze on Thomas and Jane.
“Stay right there,” he told them. “And I don’t want to see your hand touch that six gun you got holstered there either.”
“It won’t so long as you don’t give me a reason to,” Thomas shot back.
The old man could now see that Thomas was not someone to bend over so easily.
The woman returned from the church with a Priest. He was a clean shaven man in his late 40s, with glasses and a receding grey hairline. He was dressed in black clerical clothing that was completely spotless and well-ironed.
“What can I do for you two?” the Priest asked with a friendly smile.
“Are you the leader?” Thomas answered the Priest’s question with a question of his own.
“Well, I’m the man everybody around here comes to for help,” the Priest replied. “So you could say that.”
There was a moment of silence before Thomas went on.
“We need help,” Thomas said, not sure if those are the words he should have used.
“Helping people is what I do best,” the Priest said, his voice still very calm and friendly. “I’m Father Edward Thompson. What can I call you two?”
“Thomas and Jane,” replied Thomas.
“Hello Thomas and Jane,” Father Thompson smiled. “I’m going to assume that there’s more than just the two of y
ou.”
“That would be correct,” Jane entered the conversation.
“I understand the two of you are suspicious,” said Father Thompson. “I would be too, if I were you. But I assure you we are very friendly here in Garden City even though we don’t receive too many visitors. If you and your friends are in need of help, we would be more than happy to assist. It’s the best thing one can do with the way things are now.”
Thomas and Jane looked at one another, surprised that Father Thompson was offering them everything they needed without so much as an argument.
“Two of our members have been shot,” said Thomas. “They need medical attention.”
“We can provide that,” said Father Thompson. “And of course, we can provide food, water, and sanctuary for you all as well. Why don’t you ask the rest of your group on the hill back there to come on down now?”
Thomas and Jane look at each other again. How did Father Thompson know the rest of their family was on the hill?
“Don’t worry,” Father Thompson assured. “Like I said, we are more than willing to help. Our town and everything in it is yours.”
Thomas was still highly suspicious of Father Thompson, but he also knew that they needed food and Marcus and Bruce needed treatment for their gunshot injuries fast.
Reluctantly, he turned to face the hill and waved both arms.
* * *
Dirt Road
Randall was walking along a muddy dirt road, headed north to his family’s cabin. He still had several more hours of walking to go, maybe even over a day in fact, before he would reach it, so he kept himself at a steady pace.
His stomach was growling from hunger and his throat was parched dry, but he didn’t let that stop him. Getting back to his family’s cabin right now was more important than hunting or searching for a stream somewhere.
Suddenly, Randall heard the roaring engine of a vehicle moving up behind him.
Quickly, Randall started to step off the road and into the brush to hide, but he slipped on the mud and fell to his knees.
By the time Randall managed to pull himself to his feet, a green 1980s Ford Bronco was already turning around the corner and the driver was rolling down the window.
“Stop, we see you!” the driver exclaimed over the engine. “Put your hands in the air or we shoot!”
Caught, Randall reluctantly put his hands in the air. The Walther 9mm he took from Sara was concealed under his jacket in his waistband. He was prepared to draw it quickly if need be.
The Bronco came to a halt and the driver shut off the engine.
The driver turned out to be Gale, as he stepped out with three of the Compound’s men. All had pistols holstered on their hips and two of the men had AK-47s.
Randall’s heart stopped. Even though he didn’t recognize Gale or any of the other men specifically, judging by the fact that they had a working vehicle he knew they must be with the Compound.
It was then that he noticed what was wrapped around Gale’s waist: his black leather gun belt with his Colt 1911 and KA-BAR knife. It was unmistakable. Randall had owned and used that rig for years and he could instantly identify it as his.
When he saw that, Randall’s heart didn’t just stop. It sank. He had last thrown the gun belt into the Hi-Lux when he had surrendered to Joe and his gang. And now the fact that a member of the Compound was wearing it could only mean bad news.
But to Randall’s relief, he quickly realized that Gale and his men likely didn’t recognize him either, as Gale said, “Relax, dude. You can put your hands down. What’s your name?”
“Jack,” Randall responded, deciding to use his pen name. “Jack Cobb.”
“Jack?” Gale asked, a little suspicious.
“Yeah,” said Randall.
“Well, alright Jack, where you are headed?” Gale asked.
Randall shrugged. “Wherever there’s food.”
“You hungry?”
“Yeah, haven’t eaten anything for over twenty four hours.”
Randall felt a nauseous sickness in his stomach when he thought of the piece of chewed up and muddy meat that Joe had forced him to eat.
“Who are you with?” Gale continued his interrogation.
“I’m alone.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe. Otherwise why would you still be alive?”
“The group I was with, they’re all dead.”
“How did they die?”
Randall took a breath before responding, wanting his story to sound convincing. “Disease. One guy caught it and died within twenty four hours. The rest all got infected soon afterward. I got out of our camp as quickly as I could so I wouldn’t get it.”
“What kind of disease was it?”
“Not sure, I’m no expert. But it was pretty bad. They started coughing and vomiting. Then they’re vomit turned to blood. I’ve never seen people so miserable in my life. Catching it was the last thing I wanted, so like I said I got out of there.”
“And now you’re looking for food?” Gale rubbed his chin, analyzing Randall’s responses.
“Yeah, if you have anything that would be great.”
Gale nodded to one of the men and he tossed Randall a protein bar.
Randall quickly unwrapped it and gobbled it down in just a couple of bites.
“Thank you so much,” said Randall with his mouth full. “You have no idea how much this means.”
“No problem,” Gale responded.
“So, who are you guys?” Randall asked, even though he had a pretty good guess of who they were. “And what are you all doing?”
“I’m not sure you’re in the position to be asking questions,” Gale said.
“Hey, there’s safety in numbers, right?” Randall replied. “You guys got a larger group I can join?”
Gale took a few seconds before answering.
“We’re with the Compound, you hear of it?”
“Yeah, I know all about it. Survivalist community, right?”
“That’s right. We’re looking for some people.”
Randall’s heart stopped again. There could be no question about the people they were looking for: him and his family.
“What people?”
“The people who killed my brother, and a lot more of us.”
Randall was steadily realizing that a lot had transpired in his absence. Now he just had to find a way to learn more information without seeming too inquisitive.
“Well, I haven’t seen anybody, so I’m afraid I can’t help you there. But if you guys need any help, I’m more than willing to lend you my services for food and water.”
“Alright, my dad will have to determine that,” said Gale. “You got a gun on you?”
“Yeah, nine-millimeter,” Randall responded, knowing that they were going to search him anyway so there was no use trying to deny it.
“We’ll take it for now,” said Gale. “Then you can come with us and my dad will decide what to do with you.”
Chapter Twenty Four
Randall sat in the back seat of the Bronco as Gale drove up the dirt road heading north.
He didn’t ask any questions about where they were going, but Randall was very concerned because he could tell they were headed north in the direction of his cabin when the Compound was south of them.
Randall tried to remain calm as best he could. He was prepared to accept the worst…and he was also prepared for Butler, Gale, and the rest of the Compound to pay for what they had done.
Just as Randall had feared, Gale pulled the Bronco into the driveway of his family’s cabin.
Randall was utterly mortified at what he was seeing: the cabin was under complete control of the Compound. A line of around twenty men and women were conducting firing drills under Mitchum’s command in front of a mound of dirt.
Wounded militia members were being carefully lifted into trucks and SUV’s and being hauled off. Butler himself was sitting on the porch of the cabin overseeing things.
It was hard
for Randall to see his family’s cabin under the Compound’s control. He knew that at least some of his family must be alive, since Gale had said that they were hunting for them.
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