by Hunt, James
The pair held onto one another for a long time, James waiting for Mary’s tears to run their course, knowing that it was important for him to be just be there, to hold her. Because sometimes the most important thing was just hanging on.
With red but dry eyes, Mary drew in a whimpering breath. James brushed the bangs off her forehead, the rest of her hair splayed out like a halo around her head on the pillow.
“I want you to listen to me,” James said. “What happened with Jake, his condition, it had nothing to do with you. You are not a bad mother, and you’re not broken.”
Mary drew another sharp breath, nodding along with James.
James gently placed his hand on her stomach and then smiled. “Whatever life throws at us, we will always be able to handle it because we’ll meet those challenges together. All the way. No matter what.”
Mary placed her hand over James’s and nodded, smiling again, wiping away the rest of the tears with her other free hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the one to tell you. Did Nolan say anything was wrong with the baby after—”
The door swung open, and James expected to find Jake, but it was Luis. “Boss. Someone’s coming.”
James released Mary’s hand, following Luis out of the room and to the front living room where the entire house had gathered, peering through the front windows. The group parted to make way for Luis and James, who stepped out onto the front porch, both of them taking slow steps onto the compacted gravel drive.
The bright sun reflected off the windshields of a convoy of vehicles that were traveling toward them in the distance. The dust that was kicked up behind their vehicles created a heavy, fog-like cloud around them as they turned from the highway and onto the gravel road of the drive that would lead them to the house.
“Did we get a chance to replenish our trip wires from last night?” James spun around, and his heart sank when he saw Luis shake his head. He then focused on the group of people in the house, half of them women and children. “Luis, get everyone to the bunker.” James found Nolan in the kitchen. “Can we move Mary without causing too much harm to her or the baby?”
“Baby?” Jake asked, his inquiry ignored.
“It’s hard to say,” Nolan answered. “She’s woken up, but that doesn’t mean she can’t go into a relapse from shock. Moving her isn’t out of the question, but it’s risky.”
“Well, we don’t have a choice.” James spun around, raising his voice to garner the attention of the rest of the group. “Listen up! I’m going to send everyone in the house with Luis, who will take you out to the bunker! It’s hidden and you’ll be safe.”
Everyone exchanged worried looks, whispering about what they had all feared from the very beginning. No place was truly safe.
29
Once the convoy reached the gravel road, they moved slowly but methodically. James probably figured that they were making sure they didn’t run into the same type of traps that he’d laid before.
Mary was the first to be loaded into the ATV. Once his wife was secure, James turned to Jake, finding the boy with a gun in his hands.
“Son, you need to go with your mother,” James said.
“I’m not leaving you here to fight alone,” Jake said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
Had James more time, he would have told his son how proud he was to see him take such a stand, and how proud he was of the man he’d grown to become.
“I need you to protect her,” James said. That’s where you can do the most good. Understand?”
“Dad, I—”
“No.” James clamped a hand over Jake’s shoulder, and the boy grew rigid. “This is how you help the family. Your mother needs you. And I need you to be with her.” He walked his son to the ATV where Mary had been loaded and sat him down. “You’ll need to show everyone how to get inside the bunker.” He looked to his wife and squeezed her hand.
“Just make sure you come back,” Mary said.
“I will.” James kissed her and then signaled to Ken, who was at the helm of the ATV, to leave. He didn’t linger long, knowing that he didn’t have much time, but when he turned back to the house, he found a surprise waiting for him inside.
“I didn’t want to leave you here completely empty-handed.” Luis adjusted the rifle in his hands.
James took one step toward him. “Luis, you don’t—”
“Yes, I do.” Luis shouldered the weapon and then met James halfway in the kitchen. “It’s like you said earlier. Not one of us can do this alone.”
James smirked. “Now you start listening to me.”
“Better late than never,” Luis said.
“We’ll hold them here as long as we can,” James said, walking to the living room and watching through the broken windows as the enemy passed the halfway point down the gravel road. “Give the others a chance to make it to the bunker before the bad guys have an opportunity to track them.”
Luis nodded. “How many do you think they’re bringing with them? More than last night?”
James had already counted a half dozen Humvees, and even from this distance, he could see the fifty-caliber mounted guns on the roofs. “Definitely more than last night.”
The pair flipped couches, tables, and drew the curtains, putting as many layers between themselves and the bullets that would soon transform his childhood home into Swiss cheese.
With the living room turned upside down, James returned his focus to the enemy, and he could now make out the bugs that dotted the front grill of the lead Humvee that was making its way toward the house.
James headed toward the bedroom, his boots thumping loudly in the hallway, and he opened a box in their closet. He reached toward the bottom of the box and removed the pair of Kevlar vests from inside and hurried back to the living room, tossing one to Luis.
“Put it on,” James said, doing the same himself. “You’ll thank me for it later.”
“So what’s the plan?” Luis asked, strapping the vest on. “We go down with the ship?”
“We give the group as much time as we can to get to the bunker,” James said, securing his position by a window. “Then we use the tunnel from the house to the barn to get out.” He glanced back to Luis. “You’ll have a good lookout in the bedroom, but stay low.” James focused his eyes on the caravan. “The Kevlar won’t do us any good when those fifty-calibers open fire.”
Once Luis was in position. James remained by the front window, watching the caravan of some evil army invade his front yard.
The Humvees sat idle for a moment, and the glare from the sun on the windows concealed just how many soldiers rode inside, but with the gunners on top of the roofs of each fifty-caliber weapon. James figured that each Humvee was packed with at least five soldiers, which would put their total count hovering near thirty. Thirty versus two.
The gunfire sounded like a freight train, and once the first heavy piece of artillery went through the house, James flattened himself against the floor, wood, glass, concrete, and debris raining over his back as the floor vibrated like there was an earthquake.
The debris piled up on his back so high that it took a jolt of strength to move it off of him and send it toppling down to the floor with the rest of it. He remained there on his hands and knees, staring down at the pile of rubble that had rained over him during the firefight.
His weapon was concealed beneath the rubble, and by the time he unearthed it, both he and the soldier that had shouldered open the front door were surprised to see one another.
But with James already having the weapon aimed at the intruder and his finger on the trigger, he had the advantage. He squeezed the trigger and sent a round straight through the terrorist’s chest, knocking him backward and out the door.
Retaliatory gunfire forced James below the window again, and he knew that it was a waste of time to stick around for much longer. He scrambled on all fours to the bedroom while the gunfire reigned overhead. He found Luis on the ground, still alive. “We need to get to the tunnel.�
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More fighters circled around the back, boxing James and Luis inside. Footsteps and voices entered the house, and James led Luis through the rubble, toward his bedroom.
Gunfire chased both of them, though the enemy had the same difficult path to walk as they did, and it slowed them down.
James moved toward the closet, ripping the door off the hinges as Luis watched the door, firing at the pair of soldiers that reached the room first. James opened the hidden hatch and hollered at Luis. “C’mon!”
Luis fired two more shots before he ran over and then jumped into the hole. James was quick to follow and once inside he shut the lid, locking the top.
“Go!” James said.
The pair crawled forward in the darkness until they reached the end of the tunnel, which dumped them inside the barn.
Fatigued from the journey and still partially deaf, James was quick to head to the barn doors to see what kind of destruction had befallen his house, which had been circled by the enemy.
Luis moved close, panting and catching his breath. “So what do we do now?”
James turned back toward the barn. The animals inside were in a frenzy and James opened all of their stalls, letting them prance around the inside of the barn, then grabbed Luis.
“We ride out in a stampede and we’ll split up,” James said. “You head east, and I’ll go north. Just keep riding as fast and as far as you can, and then at nightfall head to the bunker.”
James maneuvered Luis to one of the horses, his friend nodding along, disoriented. Then he grabbed his own horse, forgoing the saddle, and mounted the beast.
The rise of gunfire caused the horse to become even more agitated, and James struggled to balance the reins and the weapon as the beast made it difficult to keep hold of both. He shouldered the rifle and then nodded to Luis.
“Good luck, brother,” James said.
“You too,” Luis said.
James hesitated a moment but then burst out of the barn doors, riding hard north as fast as he could.
The stampede of horses and cattle flooded from the barn, and the terrorists took notice immediately, firing at wildly at both Luis and James on their hasty retreat.
James kept low, glancing over at Luis, thankful as he watched his friend safely put distance between himself and the enemy, but James’s mood shifted when he saw the Humvee chasing him with that big fifty-caliber gun.
“C’mon!” James cracked the reins and smacked his heels into the animal’s ribs, rocketing both of them forward.
Gunfire chased him, but the rough terrain slowed the Humvee and gave James and the animal just enough time to make it to the river.
The horse wanted to stop, but James forced the beast forward, refusing to let it slow. He was close to the river. He just had to make it a little farther before the Humvee closed the gap.
James saw the rushing water before he heard it, and artillery fire forced the horse to veer a harsh right, nearly throwing James from its back, but he gripped the neck, forcing himself upright, and then turned the beast back toward the river.
In that short stretch of land, James truly believed that he was going to die. Time slowed, and he became only aware of his heartbeat and the beast between his legs.
The shoreline was less than twenty yards away, but before the next hoof hit the ground, the earth erupted beneath the animal and flung James forward and through the air, propelling into the water where he splashed, the animal landing on top of him.
30
James floated in darkness until he choked for air and was thrust into the light. He coughed up water as he lay in the mud on the riverbank. He flipped to his back, and glanced up at the sky, which had faded into the pinks and oranges of sunset.
Exhausted, James lay on the riverbank, the water behind him running smoothly and quietly downstream. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath until he sat up, pressing his hand against the mud, which sank from his weight.
Arms and legs shaking by the time he was completely out of the water, James collapsed onto the grass, basking in its lingering warmth from baking in the sun all day.
He shut his eyes, trying to remember what happened, and he caught glimpses of the gunmen, the explosion of the house, and then, like a bolt of lightning, he remembered his family.
“Mary. Jake.” Speaking their names aloud provided him the needed strength to stand. He took one step, then another, repeating the process until he looked around and the river was behind him. He stopped himself, wondering how far he’d drifted, finding no landmarks that he recognized.
James trudged through the open plains, the sun sinking lower in the west. He walked so far that his clothes dried, only to be soaked with sweat. His lips had dried and cracked, and his tongue felt like sandpaper on the inside of his mouth. He kept to the river, not trusting his navigation in his haggard state, and periodically walked over to take little sips.
James knew that it could be contaminated, but he’d built up his immunity over the years by increasing the amount of unfiltered water that he drank so should the time come when he would need to drink something that didn’t come from a faucet, it wouldn’t be a shock to his system. But he made sure to only take small sips. He didn’t want to push his luck.
The sun finally sank below the horizon, but it was another flicker that caught his attention in the distance. James lifted his weary head and saw a bright orange ball. It was his home. The bastards had set fire to it along with the barn.
James finally reached the fence along the perimeter of his property, his joints cracking from the movement, and he landed hard on his boot heels.
Above, the sky was blanketed with clouds, casting the land into a black dark that caused James to stumble along the way. But while he couldn’t see, he heard the buzz of flies that pulled his focus back to the river.
James stopped, staring at the blackness where the sounds were coming from. The buzz grew louder, as if there were an army of flies circling overhead, and then that familiar stench of death hit him.
James stumbled toward the smell, fearing what he would find rotting in the darkness. He envisioned his family and friends sprawled out across the grass, their bodies twisted and bloody. He envisioned their lifeless eyes, like the bodies he’d seen in the city.
Trembling by the time he reached the first corpse on the ground, James couldn’t muster the courage to look down.
But he couldn’t ignore it forever, so he turned left, staring at the black mound which at first struck him as a pile of bodies, and his blood ran cold.
But the longer he stared, the more he realized it wasn’t a pile of bodies. It was too smooth and round at the top. It was one of his cattle.
The steer had been riddled with bullets and left to rot. He looked from that lifeless cattle to the other mounds in the darkness where the rest of his herd had been gunned down.
James stumbled through the graveyard, shocked at the number of cattle that the terrorists had slaughtered and left to rot. “They didn’t even bother to take the meat.”
Once past the rotting field, James press forward. Even in the darkness, James knew exactly how to find the bunker. He knew every blade of grass on his land. He could walk the ranch blindfolded and be able to find any spot you asked him to. This was his turf, and it was the only reason that his family wasn’t dead.
James found the bunker and then knocked three times, paused, and then knocked three more times to let his family down below know that it was him.
The door unlocked and the old steel hinges groaned as James lifted the lid and descended into the bunker, finding everyone huddled together in his underground shelter.
Jake immediately rushed toward his father, wrapping his arms around James’s waist. He squeezed tight, his eyes shut, breathing sporadically.
Luis walked up next, rifle over his shoulder and smiling as he clapped his friend and boss on the shoulder. “Took you long enough.”
“How’s Mary?” James asked.
Nolan wiped hi
s glasses. “She’s still stable.”
Jake peeled his face off his father’s chest and James stepped away from his boy and toward his wife.
Mary’s hand was cold as James scooped it up in his own. He gently rubbed his thumb against her palm, the diamond of her wedding ring sparkling under the fluorescent lighting that was already beginning to dim.
Once James had confirmed that his family had survived, he turned to face the nearly two dozen people that had been waiting for his return and to answer the questions that all of them were dying to have answered.
The heat from all the extra bodies had transformed the inside of the bunker into a steam room, and James knew that this wasn’t going to work as a long-term solution.
“So what now?” Ken asked, stepping away from his wife, Susan, both of whom were huddled together close in the back. “We just stay down here until they leave?”
“When will that happen?”
“What about food? Water?”
“Is there enough for everyone?”
And there it was. The only question that mattered when push came to shove. The bunker was only designed to hold three people with enough rations for three months. James counted nine faces in the dark, ten including himself.
“They torched everything,” James said, then shook his head when he remembered the caches that had been dug up and left in the house. “And I only have enough here to last a couple of weeks.”
“That’s it?” Susan asked. “We’re supposed to stay down here for three weeks? It’s like a sardine can. And what happens when the food runs out?”
“I might be able to help with that.” Nolan raised his old, weathered hand, standing near the front of the bunker. “There are supplies in the town.”
James stepped forward. “What kind of supplies?”
