by Nick Randall
“Woah, woah, woah!” Ojo reached out his hands. “Let’s put that away, amigos.”
“Who are you?” the first man asked again.
It was only natural for both of the surprised men to be extremely wary of Ojo. He may have been a short man at five foot six, but he was also heavily tattooed and pierced, sported wild black hair and golden teeth, and currently was waving around a fully loaded .357 Magnum revolver…not exactly the most trustworthy appearance.
“Relax!” said Ojo.
“Why do you have a gun?” the second man asked.
Ojo smiled and proudly held up his Smith & Wesson to present it to the young men.
“Who doesn’t have a gun these days, amigos?” he asked. “No gun in your hand and you’re a dead man, right?”
“Fair enough, but why are you waving it around us is what he means?” the first man retorted, picking up a machete that was resting on the ground.
Ojo looked at the gun in his hands and shrugged.
“This bad boy may have a hair trigger but it only goes off when I want it to, my amigos,” Ojo said. “And it ain’t gonna go off now. That I can personally guarantee.”
“Let’s put it down for now,” said the second man, holding his .30-30 at the hip with the muzzle pointed towards Ojo. “Nice and easy. Then we can talk.”
Ojo twirled the gun around in his hands with a one-sided grin, before promptly jamming it into his belt.
“Okay, now we’re all amigos finally, right?” Ojo asked.
The two young men glanced at one another anxiously, neither reassured.
The first man then said: “Again, who are you? And what do you want?”
“Who am I?” Ojo asked with a sly chuckle. “I’m like you two guys. I’m alone, only here with my amigos.”
Ojo motioned towards Spider and Jonah, before continuing: “We’re alone, and we’ve lost a lot of our brothers. Same must have happened to you, am I right? Couldn’t just be you two alone this whole time. Wouldn’t have made it. There’s safety in numbers, like they say.”
The two men glanced at one another again. To them, this short and heavily tattooed energetic man and his similar looking companions who had emerged out of nowhere were downright bizarre…and there was an air of danger around them.
“What’s your name?” the first man pressed.
“What’s my name?” Ojo asked. “Dominic, my name is Dominic.”
“Alright, Dominic,” said the first man, growing increasingly nervous with his fist tightening over the grip of his machete. “What do you want with us?”
Ojo peered behind them.
“Nice truck,” he remarked, before clapping his hands together. “Gentlemen, I’m here because I have a business proposal for the two of you. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
“A business proposal?” the second young man asked incredulously. “Dude, we ain’t interested in no business proposals. You and your *amigos* here better turn around and walk away, okay?”
“Wait, wait, wait, here me out!” Ojo insisted. “The two of you look like you are in big need of a leader of some kind, am I right? I was watching you all that time. Just staring there into the fire like you were under a spell or something. No talking to each other, just staring. Weird. Well, me and my amigos here, we come from a larger group. Long story short, we’re all that’s left, and we’re looking to add some new comrades. Some new amigos. Brothers. And the more brothers we have the better, because we are on a very important mission that the two of you can be a part of.”
The two young men looked at each other yet again. The first man shook his head.
“Beat it,” he grimaced. “Now.”
The big, enthusiastic smile that had been on Ojo’s face disappeared, and with it, so did his golden teeth.
“Don’t you want to hear what the mission is?” Ojo’s cheery voice had turned into a snarl. “I assure you, there is much reward in it for those who join. Like I say earlier, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
“Did you not hear him?” the second man asked, stepping up to Ojo with the rifle pointed at his gut. “Beat it, asshole.”
“You’re making a big mistake, amigo,” Ojo was flexing his fingers by his side. “I say one more time, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. And you do not pass those up.”
“And I’ll say one more time,” the second man growled as he raised his rifle to his shoulder, so the muzzle was now directed directly at Ojo’s face. “Beat it, asshole.”
Ojo stared eagerly down the endless black muzzle of the .30-30.
“Well, shit,” Ojo sighed.
The first young man blinked. Before he did, Ojo and his comrade were standing before one another. The moment his eyes shut there was a single, earsplitting BANG that caused him to shudder, and the moment he opened them Ojo’s face was decorated in blood and brain matter and the second man was sprawled out flat on the ground with a wide and deep cavity in his skull.
The young man didn’t make a sound. He didn’t move. He just looked on in utter amazement. His brain wasn’t even processing what had just happened. How could have Ojo been that fast? Was he dreaming?
Ojo, his dark eyes now swimming with the same intense fury when he had murdered Pills and Jerry days before, turned his blood splattered revolver towards the young man.
“Drop it,” Ojo ordered.
The young man let the hefty machete slip out of his wavering hands. He both his arms up in surrender.
“Now get outta here,” Ojo gestured with his revolver towards the nearby trees.
The young man wasted no time in turning and bolting for the woods, where he disappeared into the thicket.
“Well, that was easy pickings,” Spider remarked.
Ojo jammed the revolver back into his waistband and scooped up the machete from the ground.
“One second,” he said.
Ojo then bolted into the trees after the young man.
Spider and Jonah were left standing awkwardly in the clearing around the campfire, the corpse of the recently deceased man at their feet.
For a few seconds, there was absolute silence, but it was quickly followed by a sudden, sharp scream that pierced the cool night air.
A few more seconds later and Ojo re-emerged from the trees.
He held up the machete near the campfire for Spider and Jonah to see that it was marinated in blood and guts.
“I like this thing,” Ojo admired the weapon as his cruel smile returned. “I think I’ll keep it.”
Ojo wiped the blade clean over the jacket of the dead man on the ground and then scooped up the Marlin .30-30.
“Here, you take that,” Ojo tossed the rifle to Spider.
Spider looked the lever gun over. The blued finish was well worn and the wood stock chipped in several places, but otherwise it seemed to be in decent condition.
“Don’t I get a gun?” Jonah asked.
Ojo looked around.
“Do you see another gun, amigo? We’ll find you another one later. You know what they say, patience is a virtue with great rewards for those who wait!”
Ojo fished around in the dead man’s pockets and withdrew the keys.
“Aha!” he cried out in victory and hopped over to the old red truck.
He swung the door open and then twisted the keys into the ignition to make the engine rumble to life. He laughed and patted the steering wheel.
“Well,” Ojo eagerly grinned. “At least I won’t have to count my steps anymore. Now, we only count miles!”
Chapter 3
Josie switched the safety off of the shotgun. Her finger was placed directly over the trigger, ready to blast whoever was on the other side of the wall. One short squeeze and the weapon would go off, which would most certainly dampen out any remaining hearing she had after the last few close range gunshots.
While still being razor focused on the empty doorway, she wondered if Ben was still clinging to life behind her. She couldn’t hear him breathing, but then
again, that didn’t mean he was dead. At the very least, she knew he was bleeding out fast. If he was still alive, he didn’t have much time left.
The floor creaked in front of her. Josie was applying the maximum amount of pressure to the shotgun’s trigger without actually causing it to go off.
“Hello?” a male voice coming from behind the wall called out.
Josie said nothing. She started to squeezed the trigger even tighter…
“Hello, is anybody in the room?” the voice called out again. “Listen, we’re not here to fight you! I think we’re on the same team here!”
“Show yourself then!” Josie called back. “Slowly, and with your hands where I can see them!”
“Josie?!” a second male voice from behind the wall called out. “Josie, is that really you?!”
Josie froze. She recognized her husband’s voice from anywhere. But it couldn’t be him, how could it be…
“Roy?” she asked back, her voice nearly breaking and her finger starting to relax over the trigger.
“Josie!” Roy’s voice came back again. “Josie, it’s me and Jon!”
Josie started to lower her shotgun. As elated as she was to finally hear Roy’s voice again, the events of the last few days had taught her to never let her guard down no matter what.
“Don’t shoot, we’re coming out!” Roy called out again.
Tears streamed down Josie’s face as she saw Roy appear at the doorway. He was filthy dirty from head to toe and wearing the same tactical clothes that he had had on when she had last seen him, but the wounds across his face from his injuries sustained at the homestead battle were starting to heal into scars. It was almost as if he hadn’t changed at all since she had last seen him, only the facial injuries were not as fresh as had been when she had last seen him.
They both just stood there, looking at each other, both in complete disbelief that they had literally found the other by accident.
This can’t be real, Josie thought. It had to be a dream, in a moment everything would fade away back to the horror that she had last been enduring…
Jon’s voice pierced the moment of silence.
“Roy, buddy, what are you just standing there for? She’s your wife, isn’t she?”
Jon appeared at the doorway next, a Glock 19 in his hand and another G19 holstered in a thigh rig on his left leg.
His words snapped Roy and Josie out of the trance that they were in and they slid into each others arms. The moment she was captured in her husband’s embrace, Josie wept. It wasn’t a dream after all. It was real, and it was as if the entire world around them had dissipated so it was only the two of them…
“Holy shit.”
Those few seconds of peace and stillness in Roy and Josie’s reunion came to an abrupt end as they looked over to see that Jon was kneeling down next to Ben, still laying still and bleeding profusely on the floor. Suddenly, they were thrust back into survival mode.
“Ben!” Josie said, escaping her husband’s arms and rushing over. “He’s been shot!”
“Yeah, I can see that!” Jon was quickly assessing Ben’s gunshot wounds. “He’s still breathing, but man, he’s lost a lot of blood.”
Roy, still standing, looked Ben over from head to toe. It took him a brief moment to recognize who he was but the moment he did he instantly exclaimed: “That’s him, isn’t it?! That’s the kid from before, the one who came into our bunker!”
It was only then that Josie noticed Roy was holding his Beretta 92FS 9mm in his hand, and upon recognizing Ben he was slowly raising it instinctively.
“No!” she said. “I wouldn’t have made it here without him! He helped me find you!”
Roy lowered his gun. He trusted his wife, but at the same time, he wasn’t about to give one of the convicts who had attacked his family’s home a free pass or automatic forgiveness by any stretch of the imagination. Even if he had protected Josie and helped bring her this far, he was still an enemy combatant who was now their mortally wounded prisoner and at their mercy.
But then Ben started to murmur. His hand twitched and his leg moved. There was still life in him, even if it was growing dimmer and dimmer by the second. And in that moment, seeing Ben struggling to stay alive, Roy felt an ounce of sympathy. As much as he still didn’t trust Ben, keeping him alive was the morally right thing to do, he decided.
“Then we have to help him,” Roy said resolutely. “If what you told me is true, we have to keep him alive.”
“Can we?!” Josie asked desperately.
“Maybe,” said Jon. “And it’s a big maybe. I can’t tell if any vital organs or arteries have been hit but he’s not going to last much longer bleeding at this rate. We have to take him to my house right now if you want to save him.”
Jon stood up, holstered his G19 in his right thigh holster, and then started to lift Ben’s arms up.
“Do we have a stretcher of any kind here?”
“No stretcher!” Josie was growing increasingly frantic. “We don’t have anything, oh god what do we do…”
“Listen!” Jon looked into Josie’s eyes. “I might be able to help him. But we need to remain calm and we need to carefully carry him back to my place. I’ll grab him by the arms and you by the legs. Roy, I need you to keep an eye out for any bad guys around here. Our lives are on you, got it?”
Roy checked the chamber on his Beretta. “Got it.”
“Alright, grab his ankles and lift with your legs,” Jon instructed Josie, staying calm and keeping his cool. “Do exactly as I tell you to do.”
Josie did as he was told, and together she and Jon lifted Ben up off the ground. Blood was spilling from his torso onto the growing puddle on the floor.
“Wait, we have supplies!” Josie remembered. “Food, and insulin for Alex—”
Alex! Josie thought.
“There’s no time, dammit!” Jon exclaimed it, his calm demeanor briefly abandoning him. “Do you want to save this guy or not?! We need to start moving, now!”
Josie and Jon started to carefully carry Ben over to the door, Roy leading the way with his Beretta at the ready.
Roy peeked his head and Beretta outside of the bedroom and down the stairs, scanning for enemy combatants.
“Clear!” he said and began stepping down the stairs.
“How far are you?” Josie asked.
“A few blocks,” responded Roy.
“Ssshhh!” Jon hissed. “Stay quiet.”
They reached the bottom of the staircase and Josie nearly tripped over the dead body of the enemy combatant she and Ben had shot before. The same enemy combatant who had shut Ben in the gut and was the whole reason they were carrying Ben now to begin with, she thought. The bastard had gotten what he deserved.
“Careful,” Jon whispered under his breath. “Watch your steps.”
Roy advanced to one of the blown out windows. His feet crunched as he stepped over thousands of pieces of tiny glass shards.
As she helped carry Ben, Josie glanced around the floor, taking note of at least two more dead combatants who were sprawled out in awkward contortions, each with several bullet holes in their limbs and torsos. Josie realized that it had been Roy and Jon shooting across the street, and by the looks of it, none of these hostile men had really stood a chance against them.
“We clear?” asked Jon.
Roy was scanning the streets.
“Maybe,” he said.
“What do you mean maybe?” Jon snapped irritatedly.
“I mean we’re clear for now,” Roy clarified. “But that doesn’t mean we will be for long.”
“Then let’s move,” said Jon. “Make our way to the house. Fast but steady. Be vigilant. Extra vigilant.”
“You wanna leave the bows?” Roy asked, referencing the compound bows and crossbows that he and Jon had brought with them during their excursion into the town.
“No time to pick them up now, buddy.”
Ben started to groan again in Jon and Josie’s arms.
&nbs
p; “He’s waking up,” said Josie.
“Then we better move fast,” said Jon. “Because if he starts screaming, we could all be dead in a matter of seconds.”
* * *
The party glided down the trash littered streets, past apartment buildings and convenience stores with boarded up doors and windows and bullet riddled walls. As far as Josie could tell, the little town of Carleton was long abandoned, with no sign of living or dead civilians in the area anywhere.
Josie had begun to lead Jon over to the walls of one building, but he tugged away in favor of the center of the street.
“Stay away from the walls,” he whispered. “Death trap. They’ll aim for the walls to try and hit you.”
While Josie and Jon carried Ben, who teetered on the edge of consciousness, Roy continued to keep watch with his sidearm at the ready a few feet ahead of them. He watched the abandoned streets, the corners, the alleys, the windows, and the doors for any remote sign of movement.
“DOWN!” Roy suddenly warned, and a second later a bullet WHIZZED past Josie’s head and struck the wall of the building behind her!
“Ah!” Josie instinctively reacted by letting go of Ben and his lower body crashed to the ground.
“Shit!” Jon cursed, struggling to hold onto the weight of Ben’s upper body.
The impact of his legs and feet to the cement combined with the noise of the bullet caused Ben to stir faintly awake.
“What’s happening…where am I…” he murmured as he groggily opened his reddened eyes.
It was then that he looked down and saw his entire frontside soaked to the skin in his own blood.
“Oh my…” his shocked eyes were unable to comprehend what he was seeing and he quickly rolled back into unconsciousness.
“Ben!” Josie cried, but he had already faded away.
“Stay low!” Roy ordered, scanning the area for any sign of where the shooter was.
Jon had drawn one of his Glock 19’s with his right hand while awkwardly trying to hold onto Ben by the jacket collar with his left
