by Victor Zugg
They found Charlie, Emma, and Taylor leaning against the Hummer. Charlie puffed on a cigarette.
Charlie put the cigarette out against the Hummer’s tire and then stepped to meet Sam. “What’s up?”
“There’s no one at the cabin, but they’ve been there,” Sam said. He turned to Tiff. “Can you drive everyone to the cabin and get them settled? Chet and I will make our way over to Dave’s place and check on them. They are pretty much the only ones who could have said anything.”
“Mind if I tag along with you guys?” Taylor asked.
Sam nodded and then headed north through the woods with Chet and Taylor following.
They jogged dodging trees and bushes for a hundred yards before Sam veered over and crossed the paved road. He led the others immediately into the brush on the other side and then continued north for another hundred yards. They stopped and took a knee behind a large oak on the edge of a clearing. A cabin similar to Sam’s stood in the middle of the clearing.
“What do you think?” Chet whispered.
“I think something’s not right,” Sam replied. He stood and started out across the clearing with his rifle shouldered. The others followed. Chet had his rifle shouldered. Taylor was unarmed.
Sam and Chet swept the surroundings with their rifles as they moved toward the cabin’s front door. Well before they got to the porch Sam could see that the front door was smashed in. Sam motioned for everyone to slow as he crouched lower and approached the door. Sam stepped up on the porch followed by Taylor. Chet hung back and swept their rear.
Sam eased up to the doorway and peered inside. He saw tables, lamps, and chairs overturned but no people. Sam stepped lightly through the debris and made his way to the hall leading to the bedrooms, stopping every few feet to listen. He looked back at Taylor and motioned for him to wait by the door.
Sam continued down the hall to the first bedroom. The door was open. He glanced inside. No one there. He continued to the second bedroom, Bobby’s room. The door was open a crack. Sam used the barrel of his rifle to ease the door back until it was fully open. No one was inside. Sam continued to the master bedroom, the only room left at the end of the hall. The door was open. Sam stepped through the threshold, swept his rifle back and forth, and then stepped back. Empty. Sam retraced his steps back down the hall, back into the living room, and then toward a second hall that led to the kitchen.
Sam could smell it before he got to the kitchen. Blood. He eased forward, rifle at the ready, and stepped into the kitchen. Dave and Tina, his wife, were at the table, both tied to their chairs, and both dead. They each had a bullet hole in their forehead.
Sam made his way back down the hall to the front door. He stepped outside and immediately dropped his chin to his chest.
“What is it?” Chet asked.
“Dave and Tina are dead,” Sam said in a low voice. He raised his head. “Bobby’s not in the house.”
Sam raised his rifle and started walking around the side of the house toward the backyard. As soon as he rounded the back corner, he saw Bobby. He was tied to a tree. Head drooped. Naked. Black and blue masses covered his midsection and ribs. Sam raced over to Bobby and raised his head. His left eye was bloody and swollen shut but his right eye blinked open.
“He’s alive,” Sam said, as he rested his rifle against the tree and pulled his knife. Chet came toward the tree but kept his guard and his rifle up. Sam cut the rope and Bobby fell forward into Sam’s arms. Sam eased him to the ground and rolled him onto his back.
Chet, still sweeping his rifle back and forth, glanced down at Bobby. “How bad?”
“He doesn’t appear to be shot, but he’s been beaten badly.”
Taylor came over and kneeled next to Bobby. “Who did this?” he asked Sam.
Bobby moved his head slightly and gurgled, barely audible. “Jones and his thugs.”
“Don’t talk, just rest easy,” Sam said.
“Mom and Dad?” Bobby gurgled. He raised his arm toward the house.
“Rest,” Sam said.
Sam glanced at Chet and Taylor. “One of you needs to go for the Hummer so we can get Bobby to my cabin.”
Sam looked back down at Bobby. Bobby’s right eye was locked open in a permanent stare. Sam placed his ear on Bobby’s chest for a few moments and then stood up. “He’s gone.”
“Jones is the guy you mentioned?” Taylor asked.
Sam retrieved his rifle and returned his knife to its sheath. “Yep.”
“We need to get back to your cabin,” Chet said.
Sam began walking in that direction. “I’ll return with the Hummer and bury them.”
“When do you think all this happened?” Taylor asked.
“Based on the level of blood congelation, I’d guess this morning,” Sam replied. “The psychos could be back anytime.”
***
Everyone converged on Sam, Chet, and Taylor when they stepped into the family room at Sam’s cabin.
“What did you find?” Tiff asked.
“Dave, his wife, and son are dead,” Sam said.
Emma brought her hand to her mouth in shock and immediately sunk her head into Charlie’s chest. Charlie put his arm around his wife’s shoulder and dropped his chin.
“Now what?” Tiff asked.
“Normally, I’d say that a strong offense is the best defense,” Sam answered. “But we have three people basically unarmed and we can’t leave them here alone.”
Emma raised her head. “Will these thugs come here?”
“They will,” Sam replied. “And the worst part is we don’t know when.”
“They’ve already been here,” Chet added. “This morning.”
“Do they know we’re here?” Charlie asked.
“Probably not,” Sam said. “So that gives us some time—a few hours to prepare.”
CHAPTER 21
“I think you and I should go on a scouting mission,” Chet said to Sam, standing next to the Hummer in the front yard.
“I agree,” Sam said. He glanced at the sky. “It will be dark soon.”
Chet nodded and then followed Sam back into the house. He gathered everyone in the family room.
“Chet and I are going to scout the situation,” Sam said.
Tiff stepped forward. “Count me in.”
“Me too,” Elliot said.
Sam shook his head. “We can’t leave the cabin undefended.” Sam handed his rifle to Tiff. “I won’t need this.” Sam looked at Taylor. “You said you could shoot; can you shoot an AR?”
“I can shoot a rifle just fine,” Taylor replied.
Sam nodded, stepped back, and then glanced at Tiff, Elliot, and Taylor in turn. “Three shooters and Charlie has his bow. That’ll have to do.” He glanced at Elliot and Tiff. “I’ll leave it to you guys to work out the details.”
“How long will you be gone?” Elliot asked.
“Hard to say,” Sam replied. “If we’re not back by morning, I would say there’s a problem.”
Sam scanned the room and saw that everyone was staring at him. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back.” He motioned to Chet and the two of them walked out the door.
***
Tiff turned to Taylor. “We need some advanced warning of anyone coming down the road. You’re the most logical among us.”
“If that means standing out in the mosquitoes, I don’t think so,” Taylor said.
Elliot stepped forward. “I’ll do it.” He started moving to the door.
“I’m thinking a hundred yards down the road, in the woods,” Tiff said.
Elliot looked at Tiff and then glanced at Taylor. “Exactly my thoughts.”
Elliot grabbed a bottle of water and an MRE from the kitchen and then left through the front door with a rifle in his hand and his Glock holstered on his hip.
After Elliot had gone, Tiff turned to Taylor. She huffed, thrust Sam’s rifle at Taylor, and put her hands on her hips. “Make yourself useful.”
Taylor smiled for a moment un
til he realized Charlie and Emma were staring at him. He dropped the smile and with the rifle walked out of the room.
***
Sam pulled off the road and into the woods well before the town limits. He continued about fifty yards into the trees and cut the engine behind a large bush.
He turned to Chet. “Three miles into town on foot.”
“Police station?” Chet asked.
“Yeah, the back way.”
They took a long drink of water from bottles, stepped out, and closed the doors. Sam’s M&P 9 rested in its holster on his hip; Chet had his Glock plus his rifle. They walked through the woods to the paved road and then single file along the side toward town.
Staying in the shadows in case anyone popped up, Sam led Chet down Chestnut, to Domar, and to the end of Middletown. Dark homes lined all these streets. There was no activity. The place was almost a ghost town.
Sam stopped in the shadow of a large oak and pointed to a dark line of trees ahead. “The elementary school is the other side of those trees,” Sam whispered. He crept forward followed by Chet. A hundred yards later Sam could see the east end of the school. The station stood across the large parking lot on the northwest side of the school. Sam and Chet raced from the trees and pasted themselves at the northeast corner of the school. From this position, seventy-five yards out, Sam could see the entire front of the police station along with the twelve or thirteen men standing at the building’s front entrance.
***
“Where is Taylor?” Tiff asked, as she walked into the family room. A single candle flickered in the room. The room’s windows were covered with thick blankets.
Charlie was in the process of stringing his bow. Emma was putting arrows into a quiver.
“Haven’t seen him since he left the room,” Charlie said, as he finished stringing the bow and stood up straight.
“I’ve checked the rooms,” Tiff said. “He’s not in the cabin.”
“One thing’s for sure,” Charlie said. “He’s somewhere.”
“He must be outside,” Emma said. Emma stepped the few feet, opened the door, and looked out on the porch. “Not out here.”
***
“Looks like they’re getting ready for something,” Chet said in a low voice, as he looked at the fifteen men in front of the police station.
Sam nodded. “I just hope they’re not headed for my cabin.”
At that moment, two men exited the front entrance and called for the men to group around them. Sam recognized Jones’ voice but couldn’t make out the words. Jones then pointed to the Ford and Chevy pickup trucks parked nearby. Jones finished talking, and the men started toward the trucks.
“I don’t like it,” Sam said.
“I say we start shooting,” Chet said. “That will knock them off their plan, whatever it is.”
Sam glanced at Chet, nodded, and pulled his 9mm. Chet took aim with his rifle. Just as the men were loading themselves into the bed of the two trucks, Chet opened up and emptied the entire thirty round magazine. When Chet paused to reload, Sam started pulling the trigger on his pistol.
Several of the men went down. The rest scattered, taking cover behind the trucks and the concrete pillars of the building’s front entrance. They started returning fire in the direction of Sam and Chet, apparently aiming for their muzzle flashes. Rounds pinged off the side of the school building. Some chipped concrete from the northeast corner. Sam took off running back to the trees with Chet following close behind.
***
“Stop firing,” Jones yelled. “They are not returning fire.” Without leaving his cover he surveyed the area. Five men lay in the parking lot. He looked at Smith who was crouched behind the Chevy pickup. “Take two men and check on the wounded.” Smith hesitated, glancing at the school building. “Move, now,” Jones yelled. Smith pointed to two other men and the three of them hesitantly moved to check on the fallen while staying as low as possible.
Jones stepped from the concrete pillar and started pointing at men. “You three go left, the rest of you are with me.” The seven men split off and began running toward the school.
***
After Emma closed the front door, Taylor stepped from the shadows on the side of the cabin. He looked at the rifle in his hand and then leaned it against the cabin. He then trotted down the driveway and out to the paved road. He didn’t know exactly where Elliot would be lurking in the trees but he knew it was about a hundred yards down, probably on the right. Taylor hugged the right side of the road as he skulked along. When he got about seventy-five yards down, he entered the tree line. As silently as he could in the dark, Taylor stepped from tree to tree. Behind each one he paused for at least a full minute to look and listen. Ironically, it wasn’t either of those senses that told him he was close to Elliot. It was his sense of smell. Peanut butter. Taylor took even more care with each step, sliding his toe between the leaves and sticks before he put any weight on that foot. He did the same with the next foot. Stealth was his only concern. He paused behind the next tree and listened. A faint sound came to him on the light breeze. The ruffling of plastic. The MRE package, he thought.
Taylor strained to peer through the darkness. A dark spot moved. And then he made out the outline of an arm and then a head. Elliot was still eating. Elliot was crouched, one knee on the ground, his body mostly concealed behind a tree. Taylor was amazed he had gotten this close without being detected, especially with Elliot being the big time detective and all.
With less than twenty feet between them, Taylor felt he could be on Elliot before he could even pull his pistol. But why not try for closer to increase the odds? Taylor placed a foot, wiggling his toe through the leaves and twigs, set his weight, and then placed his other foot. He took the same approach with the third step—wiggled his toe through the leaves and started transferring his weight. That’s when the twig snapped. Barely audible, but enough.
Taylor saw the dark glob of Elliot’s head twist in the direction of the sound. Taylor rushed forward closing the distance in less than a second. Without even seeing it, Taylor knew Elliot would be going for his pistol. A moment’s hesitation was all he needed. Taylor was within three or four feet when he saw the glint from Elliot’s pistol. It was coming up from his thigh, almost level, and pointed toward Taylor.
Taylor pivoted on his left leg and brought his right foot up and around in a move he had practiced a million times. The strike was instantaneous and precise. Elliot’s pistol flew from his hand and skittered through the leaves on the ground.
Taylor recovered his footing, pivoted the other way, and smashed his left fist into Elliot’s temple. Elliot went down on one knee keeping his eyes on Taylor. Elliot’s eyes opened wider when Taylor stepped close enough to be recognized in the dark.
“Taylor—“
“That’s right… Tiffany’s fiancé.”
“Just for the record, she thinks you’re an asshole,” Elliot said. “I tend to agree.”
“She’ll change her mind when you’re out of the picture,” Taylor spat.
“Not likely. She thought you were an asshole long before I came along.”
Taylor stood up straight from his crouch and slowly began closing in on Elliot. He saw Elliot glance at the rifle leaning against the nearby tree.
Elliot dove for the rifle.
Taylor pounced. Long before Elliot even got close to the rifle Taylor caught him around the neck from behind with his right arm. Elliot struggled. He tried to punch with his one good arm, but Taylor easily dodged the blows. He applied pressure against Elliot’s head with his left hand until he heard the loud snap of Elliot’s vertebrae. Taylor relaxed his hold. Elliot’s body went limp; his head drooped to one side at an odd angle. Taylor allowed Elliot to fall to the ground.
CHAPTER 22
“How much time do you figure?” Chet asked, breathing hard as he kept up with Sam running back the way they had come.
“It won’t take them long to realize we’re not there,” Sam said, equall
y out of breath. “They’ll go for the cabin.”
“Tomorrow morning?” Chet asked.
“That would be my guess.”
Forty minutes later Sam slowed to a trot as he began scanning the trees in earnest.
Chet jogged past him. “It has to be along here somewhere.”
“I can’t see shit out here,” Sam said, still panting. “It all looks the same.”
Sam stopped for a moment, cocked his ear. The sound of an engine at maximum rpm’s suddenly screamed into existence, coming up fast behind them. They dove in unison for the brush along the road. Headlights flashed illuminating the entire area that a second earlier had been total darkness. Sam scrunched lower and began back crawling into thicker brush. He had just put his head down when the truck roared past. Sam lifted his head just enough to make out three men standing in the Chevy truck’s bed, leaning across the top of the cab with rifles outstretched. “That didn’t take long,” Sam mumbled. He considered the fact that Jones looking in this direction meant that Sam and Chet were his first inclination.
With the truck down the road a half mile, Chet raised his head. “The cabin,” he said.
Sam and Chet were half way up when they heard the truck screech to a stop. Sam heard the gears jamming and saw the headlights swing back and forth as the driver executed a three-point turn. The engine gunned, and the headlights swung forward to light the paved road in front of Sam. Sam and Chet dropped back to the ground. Sam scrunched even father back into the brush. At a time when he could be shot or worse, the only thing on his mind was snakes.
The truck headed back toward Sam and Chet, much slower this time. The men in the back scrutinized the side of the road with their rifles shouldered.
“We might be screwed,” Chet said, just loud enough for Sam to hear.
“If we stay here, they’ll see us for sure,” Sam replied. “I say we run for the trees.”
