by Hunt, James
“To kill an old man?” Gray asked, incredulous.
“To prove that you’re loyal to us,” Jane answered, matching her son’s tone. “You’ve had one eye on the door ever since you were a boy. But we’re in this together now. All of us. And it’s going to take all of us to make sure we survive.” She pushed Gray toward his father.
Gray looked back at his mother for a long time, and the longer the pair locked eyes, the more hurt she saw in his gaze.
Deep down, Jane knew he was a good boy. She had known kids like him growing up. There was nothing wrong with softness if that was how you chose to live your life. But Jane knew how hard the world could be, and in order to survive, you needed to be tougher than the world you were born into. And Jane needed to make sure her son was tough because the world just upped its ante.
Gray dutifully joined his father, and Lester removed his weapon from Larry’s head.
“Go on, boy,” Lester said, slapping his son on the shoulder with pride. “Teach the old-timer a lesson.”
Gray stared at Larry Quid, and Jane saw the shock on Larry’s face. If she weren’t so worried about Gray chickening out, it would have brought her some joy.
“Do it, Gray,” Jane said, her voice steady, but forceful. “He hasn’t been anything but vicious toward us since the day we were born. He’s the reason your grandparents nearly starved to death, donating all of his good food here to some foreigners.”
“You don’t have to do this, son,” Larry said. There was no fear in his voice, merely a regretful cadence. He didn’t want Gray to taint his soul with murder. “You don’t have to be like them.”
“Do it, Gray!” Jane barked the orders, causing Gray to jump. “Shoot him and be done with it!”
Gray raised his rifle, aiming for the old man’s chest and positioned his finger over the trigger. Everyone watched, and Jane knew the longer this drew out, the harder it was going to be for Gray. She whispered silently to herself, urging Gray to go ahead and pull the trigger.
But Gray never got the chance.
The gunshot everyone heard came from outside, and Jane was thrown for a moment as her mind struggled to connect the gunshot with the sight of Larry Quid still standing.
“What the hell was that?” Lester asked.
Everyone turned to the front windows. They saw the crowds out in the street, and then another gunshot triggered all of them into a frantic frenzy as they sprinted for cover.
And with everyone’s attention on the window, no one saw Larry Quid reach for the gun beneath the counter as he aimed it at Lester.
“Dad!” Gray collided into his father, knocking him out of the bullet’s path and putting himself in harm’s way.
“No!” Jane screamed, and then both she and Donny raised their weapons at the same time and pumped Larry Quid full of lead until the old bag of bones dropped dead to the floor.
Jane rushed to Gray, scooping her son into her arms as he winced. The bullet had grazed his neck, and blood spurted from the wound. She clamped her hand over the wound and applied pressure while Gray remained still and in shock. “Just hang on, Gray.” She looked up and saw Lester staring down at his son with a bewildered expression. “Lester!”
Jane’s voice snapped Lester from his stupor, and he quickly stooped down and scooped his son into his arms with surprising ease.
“Guys, we’ve got trouble,” Donny said, gesturing toward the front entrance of the store as people flooded inside, seeking shelter from the gunshots, which had turned toward the store.
Glass shattered, mixing with the piercing screams as people knocked into one another, trampling people who couldn’t keep up with the rest of the herd.
“We need to go!” Jane shouted and then led them to the storage room and back exit where they had entered.
Gunshots and screams filled Main Street, punctuating the chaos.
“Who the fuck is shooting?” Donny asked.
Once they reached the tree line and had moved up the mountainside high enough to get a better look at the scene unfolding below, Jane briefly stopped to survey the scene. Five men were on Main Street, all of them armed, all of them wearing masks. And their weapons weren’t run-of-the-mill hunting rifles like they had. They had M-16s, and AK-47s, dispensing burst rounds with every squeeze of the trigger.
“Jane!” Lester screamed, pulling her attention back toward her son. “Gray needs help now!”
Jane nodded but stole one last glance at the enemy in the streets, realizing they weren’t the only ones looking to take advantage of the situation.
12
T he return trip went faster than Ben had expected. The close encounter with the terrorist had frightened the boys enough to keep them awake despite their fatigue from the long hike and the events in the city.
But even with the boys alert, Ben took his time through the woods. He had no idea how many more of those terrorists were lurking in the forest. And after having one of them get the jump on him, he figured they must be well trained. And that was even more frightening.
Luckily, the rest of the trip through the woods remained uneventful.
When they returned to Bear Ridge, Ben noticed the crowds in the streets. Everyone was staring at the fires in Asheville. From this distance, it was nothing more than a spectacle. But a stiff breeze, which Ben knew would carry the fires north, brought with it the fear of the flames that had nearly burned him and his boys alive. And with no rain in sight and no way to call for emergency services, Ben knew it was only a matter of time before hell followed him home.
The moment the boys recognized their surroundings and they realized they were close to home, they sprinted ahead of Ben, no doubt eager to see their mother, and Ben hastened his own pace to keep up with them.
Connor kept hold of Tommy’s hand all the way to the driveway, and then the pair let go and sprinted up the drive.
“Mom!” Connor yelled.
“Mommy!” Tommy yelled, mimicking his brother.
When Ben reached the end of his drive, he saw their front door open, and when Liz stepped out, she covered her mouth, stifling a gasp. Then she sprinted to her sons, scooping them up into her arms and squeezed them tight, showering them with kisses.
“Oh, thank God,” Liz said, her tone mixed with happiness, relief, and grief. “My boys.” She set them down and then examined them carefully. “You’re filthy.” She smiled when she said it, and then kissed them again, before looking up at Ben.
Every time Ben came home from work, he always felt as though he were returning to a place he was never meant to leave. And that feeling was never more evident than now.
Ben kissed his wife; their lips pressed firmly against one another as they embraced. When they both pulled back, their eyes filled with tears. No words need be said about how glad they were to see one another. They had reunions like this before whenever Ben had a hard shift at work. Both knew how glad they were to see one another. They understood the precious moment.
But when Ben finally noticed the dried blood on Liz’s arm, his heart raced.
“I’m fine,” Liz said, seeing Ben’s concern. “It’s not mine.”
“Who?” Ben asked.
“Kurt?” Susan has stepped in the doorway, leaning against it for support. She looked winded from the journey off the couch. “Where’s Kurt?”
Liz looked at Ben, realizing for the first time that she hadn’t noticed Kurt wasn’t with him, and she slowly raised her hand to cover his mouth.
Ben let go of Liz’s hands and walked toward Susan. “Why don’t we go inside for a second—”
“Oh my God,” Susan’s voice cracked, and the color drained from her cheeks.
“Susan, I don’t know—” Ben reached for Susan’s hand, but she stepped out of his reach and then smacked his arm away.
“Where is he?” Susan asked, her voice hardening. “Where is my husband?” she screamed, and the sudden burst of anger caused the dam of tears to break.
Ben managed to catch Susan before sh
e dropped to the ground, and then Liz quickly appeared by his side, and they moved her back to the couch.
Liz sat next to Susan, holding the woman as she cried onto Liz’s shoulder. Ben stood off to the side, head bowed, knowing this conversation was never going to be easy. But he still had no idea what he was supposed to say.
Sorry, Susan, I had to leave your husband to get my boys.
Hey, Kurt never should have come in the first place.
Well, Susan, he was shot, and I don’t know if he survived the hellfire I left him in, but at least he was in good hands with the captain.
“What happened?” Susan asked.
Ben looked up from his shoes and saw Susan’s strong gaze boring holes through him. She clutched Liz’s hand with the tightness of a vice, and Ben knew Susan was barely holding it together. He also knew dragging this out wasn’t going to make it any easier. Best to get it done quickly.
“There was an incident when we reached the city,” Ben said. “Kurt was shot.”
Susan made a kind of catching noise in her throat, and she tensed. Ben told her everything. He brought up the sniper, the radio, the other gunmen, dropping Kurt off with the captain, and the fires that chased him out of the city with his boys.
“So…” Susan said, taking a breath as she digested everything Ben had just told her. “He was still in the city when the fires happened.”
Ben nodded. “But, I’m sure the captain got him out.” He tried to sound as optimistic and convincing as he could, but he sensed the falseness in his words. So did Susan.
“You have to be strong, Susan,” Liz said. “We don’t know what’s happened to Kurt. Don’t give up on him.”
Susan let go of Liz’s hand and then rested her chin on her chest. She placed both of her hands on her stomach, and she shut her eyes, staying like that for a long time.
Ben thought Susan might be praying, or thinking, or maybe her body just shut down. But he didn’t dare disturb her, knowing that she needed to process this in her own way.
“I should go home,” Susan said, finally opening her eyes.
“No, that’s not a good idea,” Liz said. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“If Kurt tries to find me, that’s the first place he’ll look,” Susan said, her voice eerily calm. “That’s where I need to be right now.”
Liz looked to Ben, her eyes pleading for him to help convince her.
“Liz is right,” Ben said. “You could go into labor at any moment. And without any communication to call for help, you’ll be alone and stay alone.”
Ben knelt by Susan on the couch. “Kurt will come back, and he’ll know you’re here with us. It’s important you stay.”
Susan’s eyes watered and grew red again, but she didn’t let the tears fall. She finally nodded, and both Liz and Ben sighed with relief.
“Good.” Ben stood and then turned to his boys. “Will you two keep Aunty Sue company while I talk to your mother?”
Connor and Tommy nodded and then climbed onto the couch, each taking a side of Susan as she put her arms around them and held them tight.
“Don’t worry, Susie,” Tommy said. “Kurt will come home. He’s strong like my dad.”
Susan smiled. “He is. And you’re right. He will come home.” She shut her eyes and drew in a long, steady breath. “He will come home.”
Ben and Liz stepped into the kitchen, out of earshot from the boys and Susan.
“How bad was it?” Liz asked.
“Bad,” Ben answered. “And right now, nothing is stopping the fire that’s burning Asheville from coming here.”
Liz crossed her arms. “So, what do we do?”
Ben had given it some thought and knew that if they were going to leave, it needed to be now and not later. If they waited, then it would be too late, and they’d be leaving more supplies behind.
“If we can get across the river, we’ll be safe,” Ben said. “We could head to the fire training facility. It has everything we’d need from an infrastructure standpoint. Beds. Kitchen. Living quarters. And there’s plenty of space. And I know that’s where the captain stored the emergency rations we received from FEMA at the beginning of the year.”
“But what about our house?” Liz asked. “What about everything we built here?”
Ben knew how much Liz valued their home. He did too.
“We can always come back if the fires don’t end up reaching us,” Ben answered. “We take what we can carry. Focusing on food and medicine.”
Ben winced and pawed at his leg, where he had gotten burned. Liz noticed and took a closer look.
“Oh my God, Ben, this could get infected,” Liz said.
“I cleaned it as best as I could after I got the boys and me out of danger,” Ben said. “There is some anti-burn cream in our medical kit. It should do the trick. It has antibiotics in it.”
“Sit, and I’ll get it,” Liz said.
Too tired to try to argue, Ben collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, the weight of the day falling with him. He looked at Susan and his boys on the couch, and his thoughts drifted to Kurt and the captain.
The likelihood they had survived was close to zero. Kurt couldn’t walk, and while the captain might have passed his physical exam last year, he barely reached the minimums. Between the fires that tore through the city like a freight train and the gunmen picking off anyone too slow to run, Ben believed both men were dead.
And they had died because of Ben.
It was foolish to bring Kurt along. If he had just gone in by himself, then he wouldn’t be racked with guilt about leaving Kurt and the captain behind. But if he hadn’t taken Kurt, he might not have made it back at all.
The sniper’s bullet could have found Ben instead of Kurt. And if that were the case, then he was certain he wouldn’t have been able to get his boys out in time, and they would have burned alive as they waited for their father to come to rescue them.
Because that’s what Ben had told them to do.
Liz returned with the cream but paused when she saw Ben staring at Susan and the boys on the couch. “Hey,” Liz said.
Ben glanced at his wife, his eyes misting.
“You always told me that we shouldn’t feel guilty for the things we have to do to protect our family,” Liz said. “Remember that.”
Ben knew she was right. There wasn’t any sense in wasting energy on what could have been, or doing things differently. He acted and then reacted as best he could in the situation. He needed to leave it at that before he let it consume him.
“We’ll be late to the meeting with Sarah and your sister,” Ben said.
“I know.” Liz applied the cream to the wound gingerly, and Ben winced when it made contact. The cream was cold, and its sting lingered long after Liz had finished. She sealed up the wound with a new bandage, and then screwed the cap back onto the cream’s tube. “Sarah knows how to take care of herself.”
“And your sister?” Ben asked.
Liz hesitated. “Sarah will help her.”
Ben nodded.
“So, what’s the story behind that?” Ben asked, pointing to the blood on Liz’s arms that he had noticed earlier.
Liz sat down in the seat next to Ben. “Lester Percy shot Harry Simmons.”
“He did what?” Ben asked.
Liz explained the situation, and once Ben was up to speed, he realized their escape from the fires had grown even more complicated.
The Simmons family was hardly the outdoors type. Despite the area where they all lived, Ben knew the family would struggle if they tried to leave. And with Harry recovering from a gunshot wound to the stomach, he wouldn’t make it very far.
“We need to tell them,” Ben said. “So they know what to expect. I can invite them to come with, but…”
Liz nodded, knowing that their agreement with one another should things take a turn to the worse. They had made promises to one another that when push came to shove, they would always put their family first. No matter the ci
rcumstances. It was a hard stance, and Ben knew it had the potential for moral dilemmas down the road, but if they had to choose between their boys and someone else? The boys would win every time. No matter who was on the other side. Even if it was one of them.
Ben followed Liz toward the guest room where Liz had placed Harry, and she stopped them in the hall before they entered, keeping her voice low.
“Listen, right now, Margaret and Nancy are barely holding it together,” Liz said. “I did what I could for Harry, but…”
Ben nodded, knowing there was little they could do for Harry without medical expertise and equipment. “You did everything right,” Ben said, reassuring his wife.
Liz nodded and then looked at the cracked bedroom door. “I just don’t know what else to tell them.”
Loss of life was always difficult but coupled in a situation like this, it had the potential to make people crazier than normal.
“I’ll be sensitive,” Ben said. “Trust me.”
Ben stepped toward the cracked door and knocked before he entered. He opened the door and found Nancy and Margaret on either side of Harry, who lay still in bed.
“Hey,” Ben said, keeping his distance from the family.
Margaret’s eyes were tired and bloodshot. She kept hold of Harry’s hand, and when she looked at Ben, he could tell that the events had drained her. “Ben.” She spoke the single word and then returned her attention to Harry.
Nancy looked like she was holding up better than her mother, though she was only seventeen. The young tended to bounce back quickly, no matter the circumstances thrown their way. She didn’t look at Ben but held the same position as her mother: holding one of Harry’s hand in her own, looking at her father as if turning away would kill him. And Harry looked like he was one breath away from death.
All the color had drained from Harry’s face, leaving a pallor complexion. He lay still, and his chest barely rose when he breathed, which was sporadic and shallow. Shirtless, the bandage that covered the wound on his stomach was stained red, which meant the man was still bleeding out.
Ben knew that was a bad sign.
“Ladies, we need to talk about something,” Ben said. “We can’t stay here.”
