Against All Odds (Book 1): As We Fall

by Hunt, Jack

  He positioned himself across from it but stayed out of sight. It was clear whoever was on the other side had a gun trained on the door. Sam reared back his arm and launched a plate into the room. The second it hit the wall a gun went off. Immediately he pressed forward and fired another plate around the corner. In that split second he saw a man seated behind a table loading a double barrel shotgun. He launched the final plate at him then lunged forward pushing the gun away before he had time to snap it shut. Sam slammed into him, knocking him to one side. He toppled over and that’s when Sam realized why he hadn’t followed after him. The old guy was in a wheelchair — except now he was lying on the ground groaning, and cursing at him. Sam took the gun on the table and the two boxes of ammo and placed them outside the room. He came back in and helped the man up. Of course he struggled, and fought him every inch of the way.

  “All right, all right, settle down. I’m not gonna harm you.”

  The guy stared back at him with a look of despair, as if someone had knocked the wind out of his sails. “Take whatever the hell you want. I don’t care anymore.” He dropped his head. “The keys to the Jeep are in the drawer beside the bed upstairs.”

  Sam nodded, his mind flipping back to the situation at hand.

  He exited the room and double-timed it up the staircase taking the shotgun with him. He checked the first room but there was no bed inside. When he made it to the main bedroom he pushed open the door and his senses were attacked by a foul odor. Sam placed his forearm over his nose and then saw where it was coming from. Sprawled out on the bed in a nightgown was an elderly woman with a gunshot wound to the face.

  “Shit.” In front of her there appeared to be more blood. She looked as if she had been in the process of trying to load a gun as there was an empty handgun case wide open and several bullets scattered on the rosewood floor.

  Sam crossed the room and rooted through the drawer until he found the keys.

  After scooping them up he made his way down and went back to the dining room where the old man was.

  “You gonna be okay?”

  It seemed like a dumb question to ask in light of all that had happened but it seemed like the right thing to say at the time. The man just shook his head. “Thirty-four years I was married to her. Why? Why would anyone do that? She wouldn’t harm a fly.”

  It was a different world now. Three days in and society was coming apart at the seams. Was her murder intentional or self-defense? Had Sam been armed he might have easily have killed the old man for shooting at him. Few families would have stockpiled food beyond three to five days. Those who had would be driven to panic after having no power for so long. Petty criminals that usually operated under the cover of night would have taken advantage of the situation.

  Sam didn’t know what to say as he stood there for a moment to give the man a chance to reply, but he didn’t, instead he just mumbled under his breath. He couldn’t wait any longer. Sam hurried out of the house and into the garage. He hopped in the Jeep and turned over the ignition. It spluttered a few times then roared to life. Yes!

  While it was great to have a working Jeep, he didn’t have shit if he couldn’t get that spare on. All the while the clock was ticking. Sam hopped out and went about changing the flat.

  “Do you see this?” Wayne yelled over the radio. Jeremy had his binoculars down when the fires had started. By the time Wayne got through to him, a cloud of black smoke blocked whatever view he had of the building.

  “Go, go, go!” Jeremy yelled sliding off the hood of the car, and getting back inside. His car roared to life as he tore out of there with his foot pressed on the accelerator. It didn’t take long for all of them to convene at the golf and country club. They pulled up fifty feet away from the main entrance, just around a bend. Leaving Gabe behind with the cars, the rest of them exited their vehicles and fanned out moving in on the building.

  Mason was the first to spot them — dark figures pushing through the blur of smoke. He unleashed a flurry of rounds from the M4 taking one of them down. In an instant they returned fire shattering all the windows. Mason pulled back as glass hit the floor. On the opposite side of him Chase clung to his rifle, a look of sheer panic and fear on his face. Anna came in from out back and Mason motioned for her to get down.

  “You better get your ass up,” Mason said to Chase.

  Before they’d shown up he’d taken Chase through some of the basics, which amounted to throwing someone who couldn’t swim in the deep end and yelling at them to move their arms and legs or drown. Every single person was different in how they approached a firearm. Some treated it with respect and remained composed while others looked at it like it was a bomb that was liable to go off in their hands without them doing anything. Chase fell into the latter group.

  Anna scuttled over to where Chase was and peered out. The shooting had ceased and the others had dragged their guy away but that wasn’t the end of it. It didn’t take long for them to change up their plan of approaching from the front as two of them broke off from the group and went around. No, no! While the rear emergency exit door was locked and couldn’t be opened from the outside, they could still get in through one of the multiple windows that wrapped the building.

  He looked over to Chase and Anna, and shook his head. What was he thinking letting Sam leave him alone with these two amateurs? Sure, he hadn’t been in the military himself but he had spent years hunting deer, and was comfortable with a gun. But these two?

  “Anna,” he hollered. “You and Chase are going to have to hold it here. I’m going to the rear.”

  “You’re leaving us?” Chase blurted out.

  “It’s time to grow a pair,” he said. There was no time to explain and he knew that Chase wouldn’t get it anyway. Lisa was cowering under a table, tears streaming down her face. She looked at him as he ran at a crouch towards the rear corridor. He knew that look, she had the same one on her face the day he took her into the wilderness and they came across a bear. It was fear. Pure fear.

  As he ran down the corridor he heard more gunfire coming from the front. If it ended here, so be it but he wasn’t going down without a fight. A mix of stress, fear and anger rose up in him as he passed by a store stocked with golf clothing and equipment and made his way into a bar and dining area. Bottles of liquor were stacked on the shelves behind the bar. Mason stayed low and scanned the windows looking for threats. He hopped over the bar and dropped down and waited. Although his life was on the line, he felt an element of excitement, something he hadn’t felt in years. His life up to that point had been mundane, full of routine, going to and from work. The arguments with Lisa only added to his misery. It felt odd to feel that way and yet it was the truth. People weren’t meant to spend their lives as a slave to a dreary job that they didn’t care about. They needed to feel alive, and right now there was no denying he felt alive.

  A figure appeared at the window. The guy reared back his rifle to break in but Mason was on him fast, unloading a single round that cut through the window and dropped him. Mason shifted position just as the other one came into view. Immediately he came under heavy fire, and bottles of liquor above shattered, raining down glass all over him. The smell of bourbon, and vodka lingered as he scrambled into a different spot and returned fire.

  The assault was fast and furious and when the bullets stopped flying he realized he was out of ammo.

  “Where the hell are you, Sam?”

  FIFTEEN - LAZARUS

  The sound of distant gunfire put his nerves on edge. Panic-scrambled thoughts dominated as his imagination ran wild. Sam cranked the final lug nut tight and got up from his knees and wiped sweat from his brow. He tossed the tire iron into the back seat and was about to slip into the driver’s side when he heard a gun cock.

  “Don’t even think about going for that gun,” the familiar voice said, referring to the shotgun that was on the floor nearby. Sam turned and his eyes widened. Standing before him was the same old man from inside the house. He had
two revolvers aimed at him. Sam looked down at his legs.

  “You can walk?”

  “Never said I couldn’t.”

  “But you could have attacked me.”

  “Without a gun?”

  They stared back at each other.

  Sam squinted. “The men that raided your home?”

  The corner of the man’s lip curled up. “In a ditch out back.” He glanced at the tire and snorted. “Well, I guess I should be thanking you. I’d been meaning to put that tire on but with my back and all, I just figured I’d do it when I was good and ready.”

  “The wheelchair?” Sam asked.

  “My wife’s.”

  That explained why she was still in her nightgown, and the seated elevator on the staircase. Sam nodded, looked into the vehicle and back at him.

  “Did those men kill her?” Sam asked.

  His eyes dropped for a second then he nodded. “I was in town when the lights went out and by the time I managed to get back she was already dead but fortunately they were still here.”

  Sam put out a hand. “Look…”

  “Save it,” the old man said stepping back and motioning with a jerk of his hand for him to leave.

  Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to let me go?”

  “Well I figure you aren’t the killing type otherwise I’d be dead by now.”

  “I don’t get it. For a man who can walk, you didn’t exactly put up much of a fight,” Sam said.

  He smiled back but didn’t give a reason why.

  “Go on now. Before I change my mind.”

  “Sir, listen—”

  “I said leave now!” he bellowed and Sam put his hands up.

  “Okay, okay, I just thought you’d want to know why I needed it. You see—”

  “I don’t care. Leave now. This is your last chance.”

  He’d come too far and dealt with too much shit to have some guy slam the brakes on. Sam blurted it out before he could cut him off again. “I have a daughter. I’m trying to get back to Colorado. Her mother is sick.”

  “Yeah? Well so was my wife.”

  “Then maybe you can understand,” Sam said.

  The guy looked around.

  “Where is she then?”

  “At the golf course.”

  Another flurry of distant gunfire echoed. The guy’s eyes shifted.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “We ran into a group of guys, things didn’t turn out well and they have us pinned in at the golf course.”

  “They? Seems like you escaped fine.”

  “Like I said, we need a vehicle. They torched ours.”

  He nodded slowly, studying him. Sam saw the muscle in his jaw clench tight.

  “How old is she?”

  “Nineteen.”

  His mouth partly opened and he inhaled deeply. “Come with me but if you try anything, I won’t hesitate.”

  Sam nodded.

  The guy turned and headed back into the house.

  “Look I really need to leave now,” Sam said.

  “Then you’re gonna need a gun, right? That old shotgun won’t suffice.”

  The guy walked off without a care in the world. Sam could have scooped up the shotgun and taken him out but instead he followed him into the house.

  “What’s your name?” Sam asked.

  “Bobby Davis. And you?”

  “Sam Wade.”

  “Well Sam Wade, I hope you can shoot better than you can throw plates.”

  Sam chuckled, refraining from telling him what he used to do for a living. Bobby led him down into the basement. He tugged on a cord at the top of the stairs and flooded the room with a faint yellow light. It was an unfinished basement, little more than a room for storage. There were boxes stacked and pushed up against the wall, a couple of pieces of leather furniture, a large screen TV, and at the far back wall, a workbench and a black safe. Bobby pushed his revolvers into a holster belt and tapped a few numbers into the lock. When he pulled it open, leaning up against the sides were two AR-15s, a Winchester rifle, another shotgun, and four boxes of handguns along with enough ammo to start a war.

  “You any good with a rifle?” Bobby asked.

  “I hope so or Uncle Sam has wasted sixteen years on me.”

  He didn’t give him a choice, he pulled out an AR-15, along with two boxes of ammo, and handed it off. He then grabbed out a handgun box and unlocked it. “Glock 22.” He slid it across to Sam and then he took out the other AR-15 along with a vest, which he slipped on. Without wasting another minute, they headed back to the Jeep. Sam shook his head in disbelief. Who the hell was this guy? As soon as they got in, Sam fired up the engine and was about to pull away when Bobby tapped his leg. Without looking at him he said, “Belt up.” Then he turned. “It’s for your safety.”

  Toby screamed in agony, a bullet had gone straight through his shoulder and out the back. It was a clean shot but he was bleeding out fast. He rolled around on the ground while the others continued to engage.

  “Nick, come in,” Jeremy said over the radio. There was no response. When someone finally answered it was Wayne. “Nick’s dead.”

  “What?” Jeremy yelled over the staccato of gunfire.

  “There’s more than what Gabe said. They’re covering the back.”

  Jeremy looked down at Toby, fear masking his face. Rage overwhelmed him.

  “Pull out.”

  “But, Jeremy, we—”

  “I said pull out!”

  He tossed the radio into the car and scooped up Toby and dragged him into the vehicle. The others retreated and within minutes they were on the main road heading back to Four Corners.

  A thick band of black smoke blocked his view of the building as Sam took the Jeep down a trail and around the back. His mind was racing. They bumped around in their seats as he came tearing out of the tree line and took in the carnage. All the windows in the rear had been shattered, the walls were peppered with bullet holes, and a body lay on the ground.

  Sam slammed the gear into park and jumped out, rifle at the ready, scanning the area. He approached the body, took a knee and looked at the kid who’d fallen. Not waiting for Bobby, he called out to Mason as he got closer to the windows. He wanted to make sure he knew it was him just in case they fired.

  “Yeah, in here.”

  He climbed in through the window and Mason emerged from behind the bar.

  “Anna?” Sam called out.

  “She’s out front.”

  Mason’s gaze bounced to the old man.

  “Who’s he?”

  Sam didn’t answer, instead he sprinted into the front of the room calling out her name. Before he’d made it into the front she came jogging to meet him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight. “You hurt?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Have they gone?”

  She pulled back from him, nodded and shifted her weight from one foot to the next, looking slightly uncomfortable to have hugged him. Sam peered past her to see Chase who was sitting with his back to the wall. He stuck up a thumb and offered back a nervous smile. Lisa was still in the same spot, cowering below the table.

  “Let’s go. We’ve got a ride,” he said. Hope returned to Chase, as he jumped up and made his way over. Lisa crawled out from underneath the table, her face still streaked with tears. The room they’d been in was utterly destroyed. It was like someone had taken a Gatling gun and torn up the back wall. They all made their way to the back where Mason was chatting with Bobby.

  “This is Bobby. He’s going to let us use his vehicle,” Sam said.

  “I didn’t say that,” he replied, extinguishing what little hope remained.

  “You can come with us,” Mason said.

  “And leave here?” Bobby shook his head. “Thank you but no, this is my home. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sam motioned with his hand. “You want to deal with this? Because it’s going to get a lot worse if the power doesn’t com
e back on or those guys come back.”

  Bobby breathed in deeply and walked around the bar. He bent down and pulled out a bottle of red wine and rolled it in his hands. “1956. Now that’s what I call vintage.” He began rooting through the cupboards while the others looked on.

  “Bobby,” Sam said trying to get his attention.

  “Ah, here it is,” he said coming up with a corkscrew. He stuck it in and gave it a twist and the cork popped out. He then turned and pulled down a glass and filled it before setting the bottle down.

  “We don’t have a way back,” Sam said.

  Bobby took a hard pull on his drink and slapped his lips. “Damn, that is good. You want a drop?”

  Sam shook his head and looked at the others. Anna stepped forward and asked him to pour her one. Bobby glanced at her and flashed his pearly whites before filling a glass. Sam looked on, confused.

  “You have children, Bobby?” Anna sked.

  “Two daughters.”

  “They live nearby?”

  “No. One is in Pennsylvania, and the other in Europe. Rachel and Miranda. Beautiful girls.” He breathed in deeply and took another sip. “They have families of their own. Haven’t heard from them in a while.”

  Sam shook his head and walked over to the window and climbed out to check on the perimeter. Mason followed him. “What’s his story?” Mason asked trying to keep up.

  “Who knows? All I know is he has a habit of changing his mind.”

  “We’ll convince him to come with us.”

  Sam trudged on around the side of the building. “No we won’t.”

  “You haven’t even tried,” Mason said, looking back.

  “If he wanted to leave he could have days ago but he’s been sitting in his home with his dead wife since this shitstorm kicked off.” Sam stopped at the corner of the building and snuck a peek. Although Anna was convinced they’d left, he wasn’t taking any chances. There wasn’t much left of the golf carts, the plastic had melted, and all that remained was a charred metal frame.

  “So what now?”