by Hunt, James
“You think we can trust him?”
“I’m not sure yet, but we’re going to need the food, so I don’t have much of a choice.”
“What are we going to do about the radio? You think it’s real?”
Mike found it hard to believe the power would come back up that fast, especially after what he saw in Pittsburgh. He figured by next spring the country would be in a better position to rebuild, but maybe it was happening faster than he thought.
“We can’t worry about that right now. We have supplies here that will last us a while, and with Ken helping me hunt, we’ll have a fresh supply of food coming in. How’s the garden coming?” Mike asked.
“Good. We’ve got peas, squash, and corn in the ground,” Anne said.
Mike gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“I’m gonna keep the radio in our room. We don’t need it being a distraction for anyone. Where’s Kalen?”
“She went out to the old shooting stand with Mary.”
Mike raised his eyebrows.
“Did she say why?” Mike asked.
“Mary’s been having some trouble dealing with what happened to her mom. Kalen thought that if she showed her how to handle a weapon, it’d make her feel… safer.”
Mike was worried that the girls had gone out alone, but he felt a surge of pride about his daughter helping Mary.
“Okay, I’m going to get things ready for the morning. I’ll be in the basement if you need me.”
***
It was getting dark and Kalen and Mary still hadn’t returned. Mike was getting worried. He grabbed his rifle and decided to head out to the hunting stand where the girls said they were going.
Mike kept his ears open, but the closer he moved to the stand, the more concerned he became. He’d been walking for almost fifteen minutes, and he hadn’t heard a single shot go off. He quickened his pace, his boots smashing the forest dirt underneath.
The stand was only forty yards away, and from what he could see, it was empty. He brought his rifle up and flicked the safety off.
“Kalen?” Mike said.
He circled the stand. There weren’t any shell casings on the ground, no foot tracks in the dirt, no sign the girls were ever here at all.
Mike’s pulse quickened. His breathing accelerated. The irrational panic of his daughter not being here rushed over him.
“Kalen! Mary!”
They’re not here. They never came here, but why? Why would they need rifles if they weren’t-
“The bikers,” Mike said.
Mike sprinted back to the cabin. It was a two-mile hike and usually took close to forty minutes on foot for a one-way trip. He made it back in less than twenty-five minutes.
Ulysses was the first to see Mike burst through the trees into the cabin’s front yard.
“Michael?” Ulysses asked.
“Mary and Kalen? Did I miss them?”
“No, I thought you were going to get them.”
“They never went to the stand.”
Mike could see Ulysses’s eyes make the connection. He was the one who brought Mary and her sisters back to the cabin after he found them in town. Mary’s mother was raped in front of them, and they watched their father die. Wherever the girls went with the guns wasn’t good.
Mike gathered Erin and Nancy, Mary’s sisters, in the living room. The rest of the group lingered in the kitchen and hallway, letting Mike speak to them in semiprivacy.
“I just need to know where they went, Nancy. I’m not mad; I just want to know where we can find them. I want to make sure they’re safe,” Mike said.
Nancy looked up at him, her eyes wide and wet.
“I don’t know. She never told me anything,” Nancy said.
Mike lowered his head. He believed her. The girl didn’t know anything.
“Why did she leave us? She promised me she wouldn’t leave us,” Nancy said.
Nancy broke down crying. Mike scooped her up in his arms. The little girl buried her face into Mike’s shirt, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Anne came over and peeled the girl off of him, rocking her back and forth. The younger sister, Erin, didn’t say anything. She kept her head down, twisting the edge of her shirt. Mike gently rested his hand on the top of her head.
Mike didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he headed for the basement. Ulysses followed. The two of them started gathering as much ammo and weapons as they could carry.
They said nothing to each other as they collected bullets, loaded magazines, attached scopes, and threw holsters around their waist and shoulders. It was an unspoken agreement between a father and grandfather. Their offspring were in trouble, and they were going to get them out.
Fay, Tom, and Clarence crept down the steps. They watched Ulysses and Mike in the glow of the candlelight. Each of them had bullets and guns strapped around their waists and shoulders. They didn’t look like normal men anymore; they were soldiers preparing for war.
“So you’re just going to go in there guns blazing?” Tom asked.
Mike shoved a magazine into his Smith and Wesson .45, holstered it, and looked up at the two of them on the stairway.
“I don’t expect you three to come. It’s going to get bad,” Mike said.
Fay grabbed one of the rifles and started loading shells into one of the empty magazines. She said nothing. She didn’t look at Mike until he put his hand on her shoulder.
“Thank you,” Mike said.
Fay gave a half smile. Clarence was the next to join. He picked up one of the shotguns and found a case of 12-guage shells and started loading.
Tom let out a sigh at the top of the staircase.
“Fine, but I want the biggest guns you have. With my aim, I’ll need all the help I can get,” Tom said.
It took them thirty minutes to gather everything they needed. At least everything Mike thought they would need.
They were loaded to the teeth with weapons and ammo. Mike also thought to pack some medical supplies, which he hoped he wouldn’t need.
Anne didn’t say much. When she walked up to Mike she placed her hands on his shirt, twisting his collar.
“You bring our girl home.”
Mike led Ulysses, Fay, Clarence, and Tom down the trail. Dusk had settled outside, with the night growing darker.
Anne’s words rang through Mike’s mind like a chorus, repeating over and over. He wasn’t going to let his daughter suffer a cruel fate like those he’d seen over the past two weeks. Bring her home.
Day 13 (Biker Gang)
The cots from the prison cell were removed. It was nothing but concrete and steel. Mary sat in the corner, huddled in a ball, listening to the bikers inside the interrogation room scream at Kalen.
Every once in a while she would hear something hard hit the ground, but she never heard Kalen scream. Mary didn’t know what was happening in there, but she was able to imagine a few scenarios.
She wondered why she chose to come with Kalen? She didn’t want to die. Her mind wandered to her sisters. Their faces were burning in her thoughts.
Mary promised she wouldn’t leave them, let them be alone, and now that promise was broken. She broke it to fulfill the selfish need of revenge.
Frankie recognized her immediately when they finally captured her and Kalen. He didn’t say anything to her as he threw her in the cell. He just smiled and laughed.
The laugh wasn’t human. It was senseless, malicious. It was the same laugh he had when he killed her dad and the same smile when he raped her mother.
What would they do to her? Would she be passed around to the other bikers? Used only for their pleasure at the expense of her suffering?
Stop it.
Mary pushed it out of her mind. She couldn’t go to pieces now. As dire as everything was, she couldn’t let her imagination get the better of her. She had to think about what she could control, and right now the only thing that she could control was how she would react to whatever came next.
The
door to the interrogation room flung open. Mary rushed to the front of the cell, grasping her hands around the old flaky iron bars.
Two of the bikers dragged Kalen past her cell. Her head was down, her hair covering her face, but Mary could see the drops of blood falling from her body.
Kalen’s body was limp. The biker’s were carrying her by her arms. Once Kalen was out of sight Mary could hear the thud of Kalen’s body hit the cell floor next to hers, followed by the door slamming shut.
Mary let go of the bars and backed to the rear wall of the cell as Frankie rested his forehead in between the cell bars.
“Your turn, sweetheart,” Frankie said.
When Frankie brought her into the interrogation room, the first thing she noticed was the blood stains on the floor. The next thing she saw was the smeared red on Jake’s knuckles.
There were only two chairs and one small table. Frankie pushed her down into the chair across from Jake. The two of them were only two feet apart. She didn’t like it. The setting felt too intimate.
“Whatever you’re going to do to me, just get it over with,” Mary said.
Jake leaned back, wiping his knuckles clean of Kalen’s blood with a rag, which he tossed to the floor when he was done.
“What do you want us to do to you?” Jake asked.
“I’m not giving you anything,” Mary said.
“You don’t even know what we want,” Jake said.
“You want to hurt us.”
“I do.”
The simple answer frightened her. There was a vicious truth in those words. He didn’t just have the ability to hurt her, but the desire.
“I want to see my mom,” Mary said.
Frankie let out a chuckle, but she kept her eyes on Jake.
“I’m not sure you do,” Jake answered.
“I need to see her.”
“No. You want to see her. You want to see her the way you used to see her. You want to see her before what happened here. Trust me, girl. It’s better that you keep the image of what your mother used to be. It’s much better than the image she is now.”
“The last image I have of my mother was her being raped in front of me. The last image I have of my father was his blood pouring out of his stomach and gasping for breath.”
“I’m going to ask you some questions. It will be better if you give me the truth the first time around.”
“I guess Kalen didn’t tell you the truth? That’s why she’s unconscious in her cell right now?”
“She didn’t lie.”
Mary’s mouth went dry. Jake leaned forward on the table. Mary caught herself staring at Jake’s hands. The only bits of blood that remained covered the rings he wore.
Jake twisted one of the rings off his hand and extended it to Mary.
“I was going to clean them off, but I liked the new color to much. What do you think?” Jake asked.
“You’re a coward.”
Jake slid the ring back on his finger. He formed his hand into a fist, his joints cracking the harder he squeezed.
“A coward is afraid. I’m not afraid, and that’s what makes it so bad for you. I’m not afraid to hit a woman. I’m not afraid to make a little girl cry. I’m not afraid to hear them scream.”
Mary felt Frankie place his hands on her shoulders. She could feel the calluses on his hands running up along the side of her neck.
“Did you kill any of my men before today?” Jake asked.
“No.”
Frankie grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her neck. He brought the edge of a blade to her flesh.
“Did you kill any of men before today?” Jake repeated.
“No,” Mary answered.
Frankie slammed her head down on the table. She was able to brace herself with her hands, but she felt the trickle of blood run from her nose over her lips.
“Two days ago one of my men was killed. Who did it?” Jake asked.
Mary wiped her hand under her nose. A streak of blood smeared across her finger.
“I don’t know,” Mary answered.
“The cabin you’re staying at. Where is it?”
Her sisters. She couldn’t give them up. She wasn’t going to give them anything.
“I know you’re staying with a family. I know someone helped you escape. I will find it eventually. The only difference you can make now is how I treat your sisters when I find them.”
They’re bluffing. They couldn’t know where the cabin was.
Jake rose from the table at her silence. He kicked her chair leg, knocking her over and sending her to the floor. He grabbed her arm and flung her against the wall. He slapped her across the face.
When his hand made contact with her cheek, it was like a being dumped in cold water. The pain was overwhelming and shocking all at once.
Jake’s hand came across the other side of her face, harder than the before. Mary could feel her face reddening. The stings from each hit lingered, then replaced by a swelling on each side of her face.
“Where’s the cabin?” Jake asked.
His voice was calm. Mary felt his hand closing around her windpipe. The grip tightened. She gasped for breath. She tried to peel his hand off her but struggled against his size and strength.
The life was being choked from her. Mary started to panic. Her head felt light. Her vision started to blur. Just before she thought she’d pass out, he let go.
Mary dropped to the floor, coughing, hacking, and gasping for air. Jake kicked her stomach. The shot sent pain rippling through her body.
“Give me the knife,” Jake said.
Frankie handed him the blade. He grabbed Mary’s hand, stepping on her wrist to keep her arm pinned down. He dug the tip of the blade into the flesh of her exposed palm, slowly.
Mary screamed. She reached for the knife with her free hand, but Frankie held her down. She writhed and twisted on the ground, crying and screaming as Jake dug the blade’s tip deeper into her hand, cutting away flesh, scraping against the bones.
“Where’s the cabin?” Jake shouted.
“Stop! P-p-please stop!” Mary cried.
Jake pulled the knife out and lifted his boot off Mary’s wrist. Each time she tried to move a finger a sharp pain shot up through her arm.
“Stand her up,” Jake said.
Mary pulled the injured hand to her, pressing it against her chest to stop the bleeding. Frankie lifted her from the ground.
“You wanted to see your mom? Let’s go see her,” Jake said.
Frankie pulled her through the sheriff’s office. She looked back at Kalen still lying on the floor of her cell, passed out. Maybe she was dead. No one could take that kind of pain. They had to have killed her. That’s why Kalen never screamed.
Now, they were going to kill her, probably in front of her mother. More torture. Or maybe they’d rape her in front of her mom, make the both of them suffer more before she died.
They were closer to the motel now. The pain in Mary’s hand was replaced by the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
When they turned the corner, Mary’s stomach started to sink. They weren’t leading her to one of the rooms. They were taking her to the center of the courtyard. They were taking her to the burnt bodies.
“No,” Mary said.
She didn’t want to see them. She didn’t want to hear the truth that was sinking in right now.
“God, no, please don’t, no,” Mary said.
Mary pushed and pulled against Frankie’s grip but she couldn’t break free.
“You wanted to see her?” Jake asked.
Frankie tossed her to the ground in front of the charred bodies, which formed an altar of death. Mary could smell the remnants of flesh no longer covering their bones.
“There she is,” Jake said.
Mary looked up at the corpse, shriveled and still tied with her hands behind her back to the pole. Her mother’s body was rigid, holding her in place.
The woman she knew was gone.
She was always told by people that she looked like her mother. They had the same hair, the same eyes. She always wore that compliment like a badge of pride.
Those similarities were gone now. Mary couldn’t prove that she was the daughter of the woman on the pole. She was gone. Completely wiped clean by fire.
