Surviving The End (Book 2): Fallen World

by Hamilton, Grace

  “I surrender. I surrender,” the man said immediately. “It wasn’t me shooting at them. I told him let’s get out of here. I surrender!”

  “Pike, you coward,” the second man said. “Fight back.”

  “Wolf, they got the drop on us,” Pike said, his voice choked. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  Shane saw the stocky man turning, bringing his gun around in the direction of the dining room. Though the one called Pike was between them, he was far too skinny to provide any cover. Mike and Owen were silhouetted in the shattered doorway—easy targets.

  Shane leapt out from behind the couch, thrusting the gun out in front of him and aiming at the biggest part of the shadow. With a cry, he opened fire. As he did, he sensed someone moving up beside him and heard a second gun. James. Together, they created a deafening symphony of pop-pop-pop, little sparks of light dancing at the ends of their guns. The stocky figure managed to take three shots in their direction, but in the heat of the moment, Shane had no idea where they hit.

  Then the one called Wolf began to dance in the dining room, spinning first one way and then the other, as Mike and Owen moved into a corner of the room to get farther from the line of fire. Finally, Wolf hit the wall hard enough to make it shudder, bounced off it, and stumbled backward into the living room. With a dramatic flailing of his arms, he fell on the carpet. Shane saw Wolf’s weapon bounce as it tumbled across the floor. Sudden stillness filled the room, the smell of gunpowder heavy in the air. Shane felt the heat of the Glock against his hands as he lowered the gun. For a few tense seconds, nobody spoke.

  “That got him,” the sheriff said, finally. “Good job flanking them like that, fellas. They never saw you coming.”

  Bright light suddenly slashed across the room. Beth had brought a flashlight and shined it through the open back door. By the light, Shane saw a man on the ground in the middle of the living room, a stocky man with a scraggly beard. He wore a camouflage jacket, blood soaking through the shoulder and running down onto the carpet. His bony face was twisted up in pain, lips pulled back to reveal a mouth full of yellow teeth.

  A second body lay in the doorway of the dining room. James stood over him, gun pointed at his head, as if he feared the man would rise. This one was craggy-faced and leathery, his toothless mouth wide open. He’d taken at least two bullets to the face. Shane saw the entry wounds: one on his right cheek, the other near his lower left jaw. He was clearly dead.

  As for the final man, he was firmly in Owen’s grasp. A rail-thin fellow with badly pockmarked cheeks and forehead, his face was currently turning various shades of red from the arm wrapped around his throat and the other arm pressed against the back of his head. Mike stepped past Owen, visibly sweating and shaking, and nudged the groaning man on the ground. When he did, blood ran from his jacket onto the floor, and Shane realized just how profusely the man was bleeding.

  “This guy doesn’t have long, I don’t think,” Mike said. “Looks like he took a shotgun blast to the shoulder.”

  Shane rose and pointed at the man being held by Owen. “Put him on the couch. We’ll keep an eye on him while you give the all-clear to everyone else.”

  As Owen frog-marched Pike to the couch, Pike leaned back and took a desperate breath. “I’m not fighting, guys. I gave up. It wasn’t even my idea to come here. Wolf made us do it. Wolf! The one you just blasted full of holes.”

  Owen unceremoniously dumped the rail-thin man on the couch, as James moved over to train his gun on him.

  “I’ve got him,” James said, standing in front of Pike with his Glock trained right between his eyes. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  Owen nodded and rushed past James and Shane, heading out the front door. Beth came into the house then, moving the flashlight back and forth to take in the whole scene.

  “I found her,” she said, stepping around the dining room table. She trained her flashlight on Pike, who was bent over on the couch, his head in his hands.

  “Who did you find?” Shane asked.

  “Jodi. I heard her banging on the shed door. They’d locked her inside with Corbin.”

  Shane felt a fresh surge of anger. He was sorely tempted to get up, march over to Pike, and just start pounding on him. A few good smacks with the grip of the gun might pay him back for what he’d done.

  “Is she okay?” Shane asked tightly.

  “I think so,” Beth replied. “Corbin’s hurt. I think they knocked him in the head. We’ll have to help him back to the house.”

  To fight off the violent urge, Shane turned his attention to Violet. Though her face was twisted in pain, she was quiet, breathing deeply.

  “We got them, sweetheart,” he said. “They won’t hurt you again.”

  “How many of them are dead?” Violet asked.

  Shane looked at the bodies on the floor again. Gunner was still alive, but he was writhing in pain, making a weird wet sound in the back of his throat.

  Good, Shane thought. Let him suffer.

  He’d never felt such fierce happiness at the sight of another person’s pain. On some deeper level, he realized this was perhaps an unhealthy attitude, but he didn’t care.

  “One is dead,” he said. “The other is dying. The third one is our captive.”

  “I shot one of them,” Violet said. “Is he the one that’s…that’s…”

  “He’s dying.”

  Shane didn’t know how Violet would react to this. For a couple of seconds, she said nothing. Then she sighed and said, “He deserves it, I guess.”

  “He certainly does. Good job. I’m glad you fought back.”

  Shane heard the click of handcuffs. James had dragged Pike into the corner and was patting him down roughly. Then, the gun still trained on the back of his head, he marched him across the living room.

  “I’ll make sure this one is secure,” he said. “I’ll store him in the guest room for now. Come on, you little weasel.”

  After he left the room, Shane gently picked up Violet and carried her to the couch. He had a flashback of carrying her when she was a little girl, a tiny thing being taken to bed after she’d fallen asleep listening to books on tape. He felt the threat of tears and knew it wouldn’t take much for his anger to melt into sobbing. He laid her on the couch, tucking a pillow under her head.

  Owen came back into the house then. The Horton kids lingered on the porch behind him, as if afraid to pass through the open door. Shane gestured at his son.

  “Owen, I want you to take the van and go find the doctor,” he said. “You remember how to get to his clinic?”

  “Yeah,” Owen replied. “I can do it.”

  “Be careful. Take one of the guns with you. Watch out for obstacles in the road, and don’t stop for anyone or anything.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  Shane pulled the van key out and tossed it at him. Owen grabbed it out of the air and turned, pushing past the Horton kids.

  “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” he said. Owen sounded proud to be entrusted with the responsibility, and he gave his dad a quick, confident smile before leaving the house.

  “Shane.”

  He heard Jodi’s voice then and rose, spinning to face her. She was standing just inside the dining room, leaning against her mother’s shoulder. She was sweating and haggard, lips pulled back in pain. Her legs wobbled as Shane went to her and, as gently as possible, embraced her.

  “These are the creeps who kidnapped me,” she said. “I don’t know how they found our house. I didn’t give them any personal information.”

  “We’ll get all the answers we want,” Shane said, his left hand involuntarily clenching into a fist, “and then we’ll deal with these guys for good.”

  25

  Although Mike thought it was a bit excessive, James found a second pair of handcuffs in his cruiser and brought them back into the house for the injured scumbag named Gunner. Even though the man was groaning in pain and bleeding profusely, the sheriff still handcuffed him and dragged him i
nto the bedroom to join Pike. Both of the captured men were now on the floor beside the bed, Pike hanging his head, knees drawn up to his chest, Gunner resting on his side with a towel beneath him to soak up some of the blood.

  As Mike stood in the doorway helping the sheriff guard the men, he noted again just how unappealing Pike’s face really was. The man had sores and pockmarks turning his skin into a lunar landscape, and the tip of his nose was shaped a bit like a turnip.

  “You’re just going to let him lay there and die, I guess,” Pike said. “Meanwhile, we didn’t kill any of your people, and we didn’t shoot first.”

  “You didn’t kill any of our people because you missed, you incompetent loser,” Mike said. His legs ached from standing, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest. However, he was determined to keep an eye on these scumbags. “It wasn’t for lack of trying. You mostly shot up the walls and the couch. My mother has owned that couch for almost fifteen years, and she kept it in pretty good condition until you guys showed up.”

  “Is the doctor going to come in here and look at Gunner?” Pike asked. “He’s hurt. Even if you arrest people, you have to treat their injuries. I know our rights.”

  “I don’t know if the doctor will have time,” Mike replied. “He’s really busy taking care of the people who matter.”

  Pike glanced up at him then, giving Mike a brief hateful look. Mike could see the danger in those eyes, a dark glimmer of violent experience. This was a man who’d done much evil in his life, that was clear, and Mike had no doubt he would kill everyone in the house if he had a chance. The realization gave Mike a queasy feeling, but he forced himself to smile confidently in return.

  “Don’t make small talk,” James said, standing at the end of the bed, still casually holding his handgun. “There’s nothing to be gained from it. Don’t answer any of his questions. I’ll deal with them in a minute.”

  Mike felt a rush of air as a door at the end of the hall swung open. He turned to see Dr. Yates walking into the hallway with Shane and Beth following him. Mike stepped out in the hall to meet them.

  “How’s our sweet girl, Doc?” Mike asked.

  Dr. Yates had his leather satchel with him, and he snapped it shut as he stopped in front of Mike. Shane and Beth stepped past him and turned, creating a huddle in the middle of the hallway. The doctor looked at Mike somberly and nodded, as if to himself.

  “Well, the good news is it was a clean shot,” he said. “By that I mean, the bullet went right through her shoulder. I don’t believe it fragmented, though of course I can’t be sure of that. The exit wound isn’t as bad as it might have been. The bullet seems to have passed between the clavicle and scapula.”

  “I can’t believe they shot her,” Shane said. It was clear he was still seething about the whole thing. “What sort of lowlife fires at a child? I’m sorry we didn’t kill them all. The one named Pike is still sitting in there without a scratch on him.”

  Mike was concerned about the cold, hateful look on Shane’s face, the twitchiness of his movements which seemed to want more bloodshed, so he tried to redirect the conversation. “She’s going to be okay, though, isn’t she, Doc? There won’t be any permanent damage, right?”

  “I stitched up both wounds,” the doctor said. “I’ve given her antibiotics to stave off infection.” He nodded at Beth. “Three of those pills a day until the bottle is empty, okay? I’ve also given her some rather strong pain pills. Use those as needed, but don’t overdo it. We don’t want her to get hooked.”

  “Dr. Yates, I’m so grateful,” Beth said. Unlike Shane, she seemed closer to tearful exhaustion than hateful violence at the moment. “If you’d prefer food to money, we can discuss payment.”

  He held up a hand. “We can talk about that in a minute. Look, I don’t believe there will be any lasting effects, not serious ones at least, but your granddaughter won’t have full use of her left arm for a while. When she’s finally strong enough to walk around, I recommend using a cane for a while to prevent falls. Have her keep the guide dog on her right side as well.”

  “Will do,” Beth said. “I just can’t believe it.” She shook her head. “We never should have left them alone at the house. The stupid town meeting wasn’t even worth it. What did we accomplish?”

  “Corbin was with them,” Shane reminded her. “They weren’t alone. They were surprised by armed intruders, and they handled it as well as they could. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Dr. Yates, apparently unwilling to participate in this part of the conversation, stepped past them.

  “Doc, you should probably look at the wounded scumbag,” Mike said, beckoning him toward the bedroom door. “I think this guy is dying in there, and while I’m not particularly sad about it…” He shrugged.

  “Of course,” the doctor replied.

  Mike stepped aside to let him in the room. As the doctor approached the prisoners, Pike looked up.

  “Can you do something, Doctor?” he asked. “My friend here is dying. You can’t refuse treatment just because he has a criminal record.”

  “I’m not sure I owe you gentlemen anything,” Dr. Yates said. “Nevertheless, I’ll take a look.”

  James moved around behind Pike, still holding the gun, as the doctor knelt beside Gunner and opened his satchel. As the doctor did his work, Mike turned to Shane and Beth.

  “Jodi and Corbin are both resting,” Shane was telling Beth. “Apparently, Corbin heard someone moving around in the yard, and when he went out to check on it, one of these guys got the jump on him. Jodi heard them moving around in the backyard, and she thought it was your nosy neighbor rooting around for food, so she went out to confront her.”

  “They’re both going to be okay,” Beth said.

  “They’re alive, at least,” Shane said. He glanced at Mike. “Honestly, I really don’t care if the wounded guy makes it or not. I’m going to sit with Violet. Mike, can you see the doctor out when he’s done?”

  “Sure thing,” Mike replied, briefly gripping Shane’s shoulder. “If the wounded guy survives, I’ll bring you the bad news.”

  “Don’t bother. Let James deal with them.”

  As Shane headed back down the hall, Mike went into the bedroom. Dr. Yates had cut Gunner’s shirt and removed it, revealing the ragged hole caused by the shotgun. It was almost a work of violent art, a bunch of small puncture wounds around the edges becoming a single deep, red crater in the center. The towel beneath Gunner was soaked with blood.

  “Do something for him, Doctor, please,” Pike said. “He don’t deserve to die, not like this. If you save his life, he’ll become a better man.”

  James smacked the back of Pike’s head to shut him up.

  “Let the man work,” the sheriff said. “Stop blabbing.”

  After a moment, the doctor picked up Gunner’s shirt and laid it over the wound. He glanced at James, glanced at Mike, glanced at Pike.

  “I’m sorry, folks,” he said. “There’s not much I can do for him. As you can see, he has an enormous wound, and he has bled profusely. I’m afraid he’s just lost too much blood.”

  “You can’t give up on him” Pike said, which earned him another smack on the back of the head.

  “I’m not giving up,” Dr. Yates said. “It’s simply too late. I’m sorry. As it turns out, home invasion is bad for your health.” The doctor seemed amused by his own dark joke, and he gave Mike a brief smile.

  As if to prove the doctor’s diagnosis, Gunner uttered a long, shuddery breath, his eyes half-lidded. He thrashed, his heels kicking against the carpet, as if in a last desperate attempt to live. Pike tried to lean toward him, but James grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back. Gunner gave a last kick with his right leg, expelled a final wet breath, and went still. Dr. Yates pressed his fingers against the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. After a second, he shook his head.

  “He’s gone.”

  Pike thrashed against the bed, trying to get up. “You didn’t eve
n help him. You stood there and let him die. What a sorry excuse for a doctor.”

  “I’m sorry. There wasn’t anything to be done.” Dr. Yates rose and headed for the hallway. Mike moved aside to let him pass.

  “Thanks, Doc,” he said.

  “I’ll check in again tomorrow. Tell Shane we can settle up then.”

  With that, the doctor headed to the front door and left the house.

  James hooked Pike under the arm and hoisted him to his feet. “I think we’ve had just about enough of you,” he said, forcing Pike to step past the body. “Maybe it’s time for you to experience our town’s hospitality.”

  Mike watched them approach. The indignation of Pike had gotten to him. They’d attacked a family in their home, tried to kill the occupants, and now the lone survivor had the audacity to complain that the doctor hadn’t done enough to save his friend? Mike stood his ground, blocking the door. Once James took Pike out of the house, he also took them out of their reach.

  “What’s the point of carting him off to jail?” Mike said. “There are enough real problems out there in the community without having to take care of this nobody. Why don’t we just shoot him and be done with it? Take him out behind the shed. I’ll do the deed myself. We can dig a grave right there. A single bullet behind his right ear should do the trick, and then he can help fertilize the garden.”

  The anger on Pike’s face felt melted, and he gave Mike a wide-eyed look of fear.

  Yeah, you can see I’m serious, can’t you, buddy? Mike thought.

  “You can’t do that,” Pike said. “I didn’t even shoot at anyone. It was all Wolf and Gunner. All I did was shove the lady into the shed.”

  “Oh, I think we can do it,” Mike said. “How would you like to become fertilizer in your next life?”