Not Alone: The Beginning (The Fighter Series Book 1)

by Kolleen Bookey

  “I’m going to kill you.” He spit out. “Ringo can find another bitch to fuck. You’re all mine.”

  His face was blistering and his eyes were pouring with tears of bug spray. The poison had to hurt like hell, but he was distracted now and no longer clawing at his face. Suddenly, he pushed through it. Dave came at her fast and at the same time, he was unbuckling his belt. When it was free, he took it and swung it into the air. The buckle caught her arm slicing flesh open. With his free hand, he reached out and grabbed her. Crushed against the cabinets by his weight, Riley struggled to free herself.

  Between the unbearable pain and the stench of him gagging her, she couldn’t breathe. Fight or flight replaced pain, but she felt for the drawer underneath her. He was clawing at her sweater with one hand and the other he’d somehow managed to slip the belt around her waist. Forced to use her broken hand, she reached into the drawer. The contents, inventoried and filed in her frantic mind, were beneath her fingertips. Her sweater ripped in half just as she brought the screwdriver out. With limited movement, Riley gripped the tool tight and aimed for his groin. Then she drove the screwdriver home.

  His blood curdling scream filled the small cabin and bounced off the inside walls. He grabbed the screwdriver’s handle in his hand, and pulled. It took two tries before the tool came out of his groin. Determined, Riley ran to the other side of the room and turned.

  “Ouch! Now that’s gotta hurt.” Riley said in a mere whisper. Blood dripped from his hands.

  “You fucking bitch.” Dave said spit flying from his mouth.

  The only way out was past him. She took a step towards the door when she heard the click. Riley stopped having nothing to fight with, no other tools, and no weapons. Either way, she was a dead woman. The conclusion was that if she were going to die, she’d go down fighting. Riley changed course lunging forward. Her focus was on the knife dangling from his side. She saw his finger go to the trigger just as her hand reached out for the blade. He pressed and she dodged with all intentions of grabbing a hold of the screwdriver.

  The bullet intended for her chest ripped through her left thigh instead. An extreme heat followed by an excruciating pain as the bullet hit bone and lodged. Riley dropped to the floor. The laughter roaring in her ears was egging me on to fight. The room began to spin and the pain that once was there began to diminish.

  “I’m still gonna have a piece of you whether your breathing or not.” She heard him say.

  In her semi-conscious mind, she couldn’t help but think about Lucas and Jack and all the what ifs. Utah and Megan who’d probably go to Sherry. Just before her lights dimmed, Riley looked up. A single white feather swirled directly above her. She watched the blue light trailing it as it drifted downward and then everything stopped, the laughter, the cold, and the darkness.

  “Come on Riley. Let’s make sand angels in the sand.” Megan cried.

  Riley dropped to the sand, feeling its warmth surround her. The sound of the ocean created an orchestra of waves and water. She moved her arms up and down and then her legs, creating the perfect sand angel. Riley looked at Utah. Then they jumped up and ran toward the water.

  There were no bad people here, only the sun and salty seas. Long strands of sparkling sand stretched as far as she could see. The sun kissed their faces. Laughter mixed with the sound of the waves. When they fell to the ground and looked upward, the sky was crystal blue. Several clouds had formed, but were being windswept.

  “Look,” Riley said, pointing up into the sky. “That looks like an eagle.”

  “I don’t see it.” Megan giggled.

  “Okay, blur your eyes just a little and then relax them. See.”

  “I see it. You see it Utah?”

  “I see it.” She replied.

  “Do you think the sky ends?”

  “I don’t think it does. It just keeps going.” Riley said. “To heaven.”

  “He’s come back for you Riley.” Utah said, sitting up in the sand.

  Riley looked over at her and smiled. “No one came back for me.”

  “He’s there. You’re asleep.”

  “Sleep is good.”

  “Megan needs you.” She reminded her. “I need you.”

  Riley looked up into the sky watching a bird soaring above them. His wings spread out as he dipped back and forth looking for a fish to take back to its offspring. The osprey searched the skies and then suddenly dipped down bringing up a small fish in its talons. Then the bird was flying back to care for its young.

  “He came back for you.” She repeated. “Go now.”

  The sky began to fade and Riley heard herself begin to argue with Utah. Riley tried to open her eyes. Her words became jumbled and filtered.

  “Riley.” The voice said. She felt herself lifting upward, but the pain inside of her was so bad, she cried out.

  “I’m sorry.” She heard him say. “I have her.”

  “Throw him outside.” Jack said.

  “No problem Jack.” Another voice said.

  He set her on a chair and knelt beside her, his voice was level with her ears. He placed her pistol in her good hand.

  “Better?”

  “Be careful of the cats.” Riley said forcing her eyes open. Riley looked down at the pistol. She felt drunk, but more than likely just in shock.

  Jack chuckled. “Being a cat owner yourself, I wouldn’t think you’d be too scared of those big old putty cats.” He teased. She started to chuckle, but it hurt.

  “Did you get the number of the train that hit me?” She asked.

  The room was spinning. She swayed, but Jack caught her. Dave was yelling in the background, but then there was a pop and then a thunk. Riley looked at the pistol and then tried to look back to where she’d heard the ruckus. Her fingers pressed soft on the barrel.

  “Can I kill him now?” Riley asked in a whisper. Nevertheless, her head felt heavy and it bobbed forward.

  “John’s an ex-marine. He specialized in terrorist interrogations.” Jack said. “He’ll handle it.”

  “I had to give Ringo your name.” She clutched her side with her good hand. He took out a syringe and lifted the sleeve of her shirt. “Are you going to kill me now?” Riley asked.

  Jack chuckled. “No, I’m giving you something for the pain. You’ll be groggy.” She felt the warmth seep into her veins and then there was this immense relief. When she looked up, he was staring at her. “You’re going to be okay.” He said.

  His voice sounded far away. Riley smiled. “I’m sorry I gave him your name.” Her words were slurred and loose. “He was going to feed me to the tiger.”

  “Yep, you’re feeling no pain.” He said, taking her gun back.

  In and out, she saw a silhouette standing behind Jack hidden behind a facemask. Riley stared at him. She suddenly realized, even hidden, she knew him. She smiled. Riley was about to enter a nice warm fuzzy dream world and she needed them to know that her journey here was done.

  “Hey Kid. I’ve been looking for you.” She said as a single tear rolled from her eye and onto her cheek. She went out cold, but Jack reached out and she felt him catch her.

  FIFTY-NINE

  Ringo scanned the ranch through high-powered night binoculars. When he was satisfied, he glanced down at the explosives near his feet. Making things disappear was what he was good at. For years, he’d made people believe he was some kind of businessman, an investor of sorts. Even his cheating wife had thought he was an investor. He invested, but not in the way, most people did. The story he’d told Riley was true, but he’d left out the main components. Having spent his life cleaning up other people’s messes had turned him into a human hater. How he’d survived the Shift, he’d no clue.

  Three of his men were waiting not far from the Colton Ranch entrance. He planned to go in, take the boy, kill a few antagonists, and get out. He spotted several of Colton’s men patrolling the outside perimeter and an old man carting a shotgun. He’d caught a glimpse of the two Rhodesians as they did their r
ounds with the old man, but they were an easy fix.

  Most loathed the darkness, but Ringo found it to be his best friend. He only wished the clouds hanging in the sky would cover the moon completing the darkness. He pulled out a tranquilizer gun and loaded two rounds into the cylinder all the while listening to the coyotes crying in the distance.

  He wouldn’t kill the two dogs, but they’d sleep for a long time. The rock fence led to the barn and so he used that to hide his presence. When he was close enough, he scaled the brick wall and touched down on Colton land. The first dart hit the larger of the two dogs. A yelp alerted the second dog, but Ringo was quick. He pulled the trigger, sending a dart into the other dog’s side.

  Ringo moved to the rear of the barn. The man to the back of the house turned away from him that’s when Ringo crossed the snow. He pulled up his Colt .38 Super Special Combat Government Pistol with a silencer, dropping the man with one shot. Ringo smiled. “Game on,” he thought as he dragged the man under the porch.

  To Ringo’s delight, the clouds shifted. The contrast of light dropped several shades, making him invisible. He followed the smell of a cigarette stopping short of the man smoking it. Ringo raised his gun, but this time Colton’s man spun around just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Ringo’s target high in the shoulder. A near miss. The man was fast, faster than Ringo expected. Colton’s man pulled the trigger and then dove through the back door, clicking off two more shots before he disappeared. Ringo readied himself for all hell to break loose, but nothing came. The coyotes began to howl once more.

  “My turn.” He said.

  He moved to the front of the house, scrutinizing the barriers covering windows and doors. The old man was gone, taking with him the sleeping dogs. The sound of horse’s hooves moving across the desert floor caused him to turn. Ringo could see nothing.

  “Let’s play.” He said, withdrawing a bundle from inside of his coat.

  He pressed against the side of the house casually withdrawing a toothpick from his coat pocket. He placed it between his teeth, taking a moment to think. Biting into the toothpick, he went to his knees and placed the bundled explosives under the front porch.

  He then moved to the back door and knocked. “Special delivery.” He yelled. He knocked harder. “If you give me the boy, no one will die.”

  Ringo spun around; his finger nestled on the trigger of his gun. The old man, who had silently appeared, fired. The bullet landed not a quarter of an inch from Ringo’s head into the siding. Wood splintered into tiny pieces.

  Ringo raised his eyebrows, “I’ll be dammed.”

  Another shot rang out, but this time Ringo ducked. The bullet lodged exactly where his beating heart had been.

  Ringo slid to the other side of the house, using the corner to shelter himself from the from the old man’s gun. He clicked off a few rounds, warnings. The shooting stopped and a silence amplified through the stillness of the night. The moon was now clear of its covering allowing light to spray down all around him.

  Even the coyotes had gone silent as Ringo stepped away from the front of the house and made his way back to the rear. Looking through the windows, Ringo could see a metal covering. A silent rage that sometimes exploded inside of him awakened.

  “What the fuck?” He shouted. “Who are you people?” He withdrew the detonator from his pocket. “You want to play, then let’s play.” He said.

  About to lay his finger on the flashing red light, he stopped when he saw the green spot on his chest. He dove, dropping the detonator. The bullet caught him in his left arm just under Riley’s hit. The bullet tore into his flesh, searing the muscle. Blood soaked his shirt as the green beam followed him to the ground. He rolled under the porch, hugging the steps leading to the door. The detonator lay a few feet from him. Reaching out, he attempted to grab it. Another bullet caught the wood above him.

  “Mother fucker! I’m going to kill all of you.”

  Ringo righted himself, keeping to the safety of the porch steps. He looked for something he could use to retrieve the detonator. The forgotten broom would work. He reached out with his foot knocking it over. Grabbing the end, he set the broom head on top of the detonator and then drew it towards him.

  The sniper sent another round into the step exploding the wood into shards of kindling. The shooter was teasing Ringo. The hit created a small gap in the step, exposing his head. This gave the sniper a chance to take his shot, but Ringo lowered himself further underneath the deck. Holding to the detonator, he pressed the button. The explosion ripped the front of the house apart causing the sniper to fall back as the ground shook. A giant ball of flame exploded from under the house shooting debris and flame upward.

  Ringo climbed to his feet waiting to hear screams. There were no screams nor did anyone run from the wrecked house. Fire crackled and a large plum of dark smoke rose upward blocking the moon from its radiant glow. Through rising smoke, he saw his three men running in his direction and behind them, a set of headlights coming up fast. The game had taken on some new players and one of them was Jack Colton.

  The green spot of light promising death caught up to Ringo once more. He moved before his brain registered where he was going. Tiny embers and falling debris fell above him. He lunged past where the door had once been and entered the house. He slid to a stop when he came face to face with the younger Colton.

  “Ryan Colton,” Ringo said, slipping into another room.

  There had been no fear in Ryan’s expression. Outside a truck slid to a stop. Ringo raised an eyebrow, excited. “Jack Colton.” He said in a whisper. The entire family was gathering in his honor.

  “Come on out!” Ryan yelled.

  Ringo raised his gun. The sound of running footsteps broke through the crackling fire. When Ringo turned, Ryan had disappeared.

  “Where’d you go?”

  Resting his finger on the trigger, he released a spray of gunfire where Ryan had been. Bullets exploded into the wall ripping the frame off the door. Sparks flew mixing with fire and smoke.

  “Where’s the boy?” Ringo screamed.

  “Why?” The voice came from behind Ringo, but the man remained hidden.

  Ringo laughed. “I’ll ask one more time. Where’s the boy?”

  “He is not yours to take.” Said the voice.

  Ringo wanted to look at his opponent in the face. He searched through the smoke and fire, but saw nothing other than shadows.

  “Meet your reaper asshole.” Eric said waiting for Ringo to step out from behind the beam.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Ringo said searching.

  “I’m the boy’s father.” Eric said.

  Ringo craned his head, but Ringo went silent. Thinking back, he remembered. “My boys left you in the desert bleeding like a stuck pig.” Ringo laughed. “But not your wife. She was just fine.”

  “You’re a dead man.” Eric stepped out of the darkness. With long strides, he moved into the light towards Ringo. A set of Sig Sauer 45’s in his hands. Flames crawled upward, filling the room with a thick black smoke. A cross beam crashed to the floor sending an explosion of sparks outward. Ringo let out a wicked laugh.

  Ringo watched Eric held his ground even with the intensity of the fire behind him. He had hoped the child was his. The images of his own children flashed in Ringo’s head. He could see their still eyes and pale faces. Blood had covered their skin and an eternal sleep had taken their souls. For the past two years, he’d invested in Jonah. Without proof, he believed Jonah to be his.

  SIXTY

  Jack headed in the direction of the ranch. As soon as they hit the fork in the road, they could see flames coming from the house. A gunshot sounded and a bullet sunk into the front fender of the Dodge. Ready, locked, and loaded, Jeremy waited for his chance to shoot. John and Scott leaned back into the seat giving Jeremy space. Giving the truck full throttle, Jack raced down the drive and then slid sideways to a stop next to Kid’s truck. Ben cracked the door to the barn.

  “I’ve
been trying to coax that asshole out for a good five minutes. I just can’t get a good aim on him.” Ben said, propping his gun back up to the side of the window. “Son of a bitch blew up our house.”

  “Okay Pops. Where’s he at?” Jack asked. Jeremy stepped up and waited for instruction.

  “You look a little scary Jeremy.” Scott said looking at the twenty-three old. He stood holding an assault rifle with extra ammunition slung across his shoulder.

  “Likewise.” Jeremy said. He stepped to the window.

  The old man pointed over to one of the shelters. “There.” His finger shook slightly. “There're only two of them left and the big guy who’s in the house.”

  Jeremy pulled his rifle up and positioned himself.

  “Can you get him?” Jack asked.

  “No problem.” Jeremy answered. Jack patted him on the back.

  “I’ll draw him out for you.”

  “That asshole blew up the house.” Ben repeated, shaking his fist. “Lily!”

  “It’s okay pops. There all safe. Ready?” Jack asked Jeremy.

  “Ready.” He said, pressing and then pulling his cheek away from the stock of the weapon. He gently pressed into his gun and waited.

  Jack set his headset in place and then slid outside. The glow from the flames lit up the front yard, but the black clouds of smoke gave a little cover.

  The first bullet whizzed by him with a “thunk” slapping into the barn. It was all Jeremy needed. He was that good of an eye and that good of a shot. The rifle fired behind Jack and the man hiding under the sun shelter fell forward. Jack grinned, making his way toward the house. The smell of burning wires, plastic, and wood filled his nostrils. He’d just taken the first step when Eric’s voice echoed in his ear.