“Do you want to tell him?” Ben asked.
Kale laughed. “Naaah. It’s just funnier to listen to him bitch. Besides…” Kale picked up a rifle magazine. “The longer he stays away from the table, the more for the rest of us.”
Ben nodded. “Every man for himself,” he said as he turned away.
Carl and his rescue party pressed against any tree that would shield their bodies, though Carl was unimpressed by the trunk he had chosen due to a lack of options. If it wasn’t storming out here, he would have crouched down in the dirt instead, using low hanging branches for cover. As it was, with all the rain it was much more difficult to see through the window to where Shyanne and Tara were being held. However, their two forms still were visible through the glass, helped by the candlelight inside.
“This is it.” Carl turned to Preston and Michael. “You two stay here until the fireworks start. Now, if you see the girls being taken farther inside the house, one of you should meet us in front to warn us before I set off the gas. If not, you may have to barge in to get them yourself. Otherwise, when I set off the gas, you go take out the guard and get them out. Don’t try helping me. Just run like hell to Lorenzo and the others.”
“You can count on us,” Michael said. Preston cast a glance at Michael before turning to Carl and nodding in agreement.
Carl turned to the path of trees that led alongside the house. “Alright. Harold, let’s get your boys and get going.”
But Carl only managed one step before the back door flung wide open and Seth came out lumbering out. He kicked the door shut before walking out into the rain. His gait was unsteady and he belched loudly.
“Damn!” Carl dove for the dirt.
He could not retreat toward the cover of a tree trunk in time. Harold and the boys also scattered. From where he was, Carl could not see how Michael or Preston reacted. He had to stay rooted to the ground. Even in this rain, Seth still could spot him or any other member of his other rescue team.
“Harper!” Seth shouted in the rain. “Where the hell are you?” Seth shuffled toward the trees—and Carl’s position.
Chapter Nineteen
Seth’s footsteps grew louder, despite the pounding rain. Carl tensed up. What should he do now? If he rose up and tried to shoot him, the men inside likely would hear the gunshot, even through this heavy rain. That left the option of just knocking him out with a good punch, but a drawn out brawl could alert the men inside as well. Carl and his party were simply too close to the house for many good options.
Still, he sounds like he’s had too much whiskey. I probably could nail him in his current state, Carl thought.
Seth now was even closer, perhaps just behind the tree Carl was behind. The time had come. Carl would reach out and…
“Hey!”
Carl froze. That was Michael’s voice.
“Over here.”
Seth turned to the right. “Who’s there?”
“Can you help me?” Michael asked.
Carl’s eyes widened. What the hell was Michael doing?
He spun around, his eyes watching Seth as he walked toward Michael. With Seth’s back turned, Carl could at least rise to a crouching position. Michael was standing deeper in the woods, waving at Seth. Seth approached without any apparent alarm.
“Michael,” Carl whispered. Was Michael trying to divert Seth from the house? Or was Michael luring Seth into a trap? Michael might even attack Seth, as he had Harper. Carl’s heart quickened.
“Who the hell are you?” Seth asked. His right foot nearly slipped in the mud.
“I need help. I’m looking for shelter,” Michael said. “I-I’m lost. I don’t know where I am.”
“Well, what do I look like, your freakin’ GPS?” Seth then stopped and reached down for the gun he wore on his belt. “But you look like someone who’d make a dandy house slave. You’re not Harper, but maybe Ben could use a guy like you.”
“Ben? Who’s that?” Michael asked.
“A friend of mine. Well, more like a fiend of mine.” Seth laughed. “Yeah, fiend. I like that.”
Michael then narrowed his eyes. “Actually, I lied. I’m not lost. I found just what I’m looking for.”
“And what’s that?” Seth asked.
Michael’s answer never came. Matthew and Tom supplied it for him when they sprang down from nearby trees and slammed the butts of their guns into the back of his head. Seth fell face down onto the rain-soaked ground with a sickening moan.
Michael turned to Preston, who was a little farther away, with his own gun drawn. “Looks like the kids beat you to it.”
Preston nodded. “I didn’t even see them go up the tree!”
Harold joined his two boys as Carl approached Michael. “So, you had a little trap planned.”
“Didn’t know if it would work but I had to get him away from the house,” Michael replied.
Preston looked down at the unconscious Seth. “So what do we do, leave him?”
Carl turned to Matthew and Tom. “Can you drag him farther away from here? The last thing we want is for him to wake up and shout a warning. Tie him up and gag him before he wakes up.”
“I can do it myself,” Tom said.
“Great. Hurry,” Carl said.
Tom took hold of Seth and dragged him off. Carl wiped fresh rainwater away from his eyes. “We have to step it up. Counting Harper, they now have two men missing. That’s going to raise suspicion. You all know what to do.”
Carl blinked. As much as he valued the rain for the cover it provided, this was the one moment where the falling water definitely wasn’t helping in his ambush. Even from this distance behind this tree, Carl easily could hit the tanks if the rain wasn’t masking the view so horribly. Carl stood about as good a chance of striking the wall of the house as he did the tanks themselves.
And they might hear it if I miss, Carl thought. Still, he could not delay any longer. Ben might decide to move the girls out of that room, particularly if he was worrying about where his two men were.
He aimed his gun, stopping to wipe more water out of his eyes, then aimed again. Damn. The wind was picking up the water and blowing it a little more sideways. That was not helping.
Carl gritted his teeth, inhaled deeply, and then took the shot.
His bullet failed to strike the tank. Instead, it hit the ground just below the tank. No explosion.
Santiago slammed the door to the bathroom shut while Bernard picked up the trash bag from the floor, muttering a string of vile curses against Seth. Santiago led the way toward the back door while saying, “Damn little turd.”
“Damn big turd you mean,” Bernard said.
“I meant Seth,” Santiago hovered over Bernard, who was a good foot shorter than him. “I don’t care what Ben says when Seth gets back. Whether Ben lets Seth off the hook or not, I’m still going to use Seth’s ass for target practice either way.”
Before Bernard could reply, a sudden pop stopped the pair cold. They turned toward the front end of the house. “What the hell was that?” Santiago asked.
“Sounded like a firecracker.” Bernard dropped the trash bag, then put his hand to his ear and listened.
“Or someone popping off a gun.” Santiago frowned.
Bernard pointed to the wall. “I think it came from outside.”
Santiago grabbed the top of the bag and shoved it into Bernard’s hands. “If someone’s shooting outside, then we got ourselves some trouble. C’mon, drag that shit out the door. I’m going to tell Ben.”
The two men split up.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Carl’s first shot had failed. Rain began pooling on his face again, but this time he just shook his head violently to fling the drops off. He had to hurry, or someone inside might come out to investigate.
He squeezed the trigger once again, hoping that he’d get it right this time.
In the hallway, Santiago and Bernard made it a foot apart from each other before a mighty explosion blew through the hallway
and slammed into both men.
Santiago was blown through the hall toward the turn where it led into the kitchen. He was unlucky enough to be bathed in much of the rolling fireball and even unluckier still to be buried under a fallen timber while he remained ablaze. He was alive while he burned.
Meanwhile, Bernard, along with the bag he was holding, was launched through the wall and into the living room, where he tumbled onto the floor. He landed face first on the garbage bag, which had been torn open in the explosion, its contents scattered all over Bernard and the floor nearby.
It was a blessing for Bernard that he had stopped breathing a second before he plopped down into the garbage bag.
Ben opened the fridge. He had thrown out anything that was perishable earlier, but a lingering odor still remained. He couldn’t do much about that. He had to work with what he had. It was the only place to stash the beer and liquor they had brought with them to this place.
He returned his thoughts to their raid on Camp Jefferson and it annoyed him immensely. He had listened to Nichols vent about his time in the army, how he hated being under the boot of his superiors and that if he could, he would burn the whole base down. Ben gladly took advantage of Nichols’ desire for revenge, but the end result of their attack seemed more lacking with every hour. Once he had realized that society had hit the shitter, he had grand ambitions to pull off big raids and score a lot of guns to make himself the most powerful man around here.
The loss of some of his men, though, actually had made staying here a little more bearable. Fewer mouths to feed and definitely less body odor to inhale in these tight quarters. He didn’t plan on staying here long. He vowed to find some nice, multi-story plantation out there and set up his base.
He turned around. Two of the guys lay on the floor, half-asleep, while a third rested his head on the table. The men who were awake were playing cards. Boredom and fatigue was setting in.
Inevitably, Ben’s mind wandered to the thoughts of their captives. That redhead was mildly attractive, but not as developed as he would like. Plus, her personality seemed too sour for him. Ben liked his women daintier and more curvaceous. As for that black girl with her, Ben couldn’t care less. She could make for a nice laborer, but that was all. Some of his boys, however, might have other intentions.
Then he noticed Nichols rising from his seat. Their ally in carnage started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Ben asked.
“To bed. I’m tired as shit.” Nichols glared at Ben. With the bags under his eyes, he looked it. “I’m taking the attic and I don’t want any assholes following me up there.”
As Nichols stormed off into the hall, Ben followed a few steps behind and chuckled loudly. “I hear the attic has a squirrel problem. They like to feast on nuts.”
Nichols stopped in his tracks, as Ben had hoped. The former soldier trembled, but then shook his head and turned down a corner to the right.
Yeah, you rest. Because I got plans and you’re going to help us out. This state’s full of U.S. army installations and I aim to take over one of them. Yeah, forget the plantation idea. I’ll seize a base and set up my new country there. Yeah, I think I’m going to enjoy this—
Completing that thought was impossible since the kitchen’s left wall suddenly blew open, spilling out a mass of fire that licked the room. Ben, no longer in the kitchen, was nonetheless knocked off his feet and onto the floor.
Carl ducked and rolled as a ball of fire blew outward from the tank and covered the entire side of the house. A flaming piece of metal gutter flew spinning into the woods and missed Carl by inches. With his hands over his head, Carl kept down as debris flung by the explosion flew by or impaled into nearby trees.
When the rumble of the blast subsided, Carl jumped to his feet. The side of the house was now on fire. The explosion was impressive, but Carl couldn’t be sure how many of Ben’s men were taken out by that blast. It didn’t matter now, though. He had set the wheels in motion and now he had to race to make sure this rescue plan made it through to the end. He just hoped Harold would be able to start taking out the rest from his end.
No longer worried about sticking to cover, Carl rushed alongside the house toward the front door to back up Harold. Ben and his goon squad were sure to be pouring out of there any moment.
But Carl’s plan suddenly hit a snag as a nearby window exploded and a man tumbled out onto the lawn. It was Nichols. The traitorous soldier had leaped through a window and tucked and rolled onto the ground, probably to avoid flames produced by the explosion. He quickly rolled onto his knees and sprang up, panting and groaning.
“Damn!” Now Carl had a problem on his hands. Every second counted. He pulled out his gun—
But Nichols grabbed the firearm, pointing it down to the ground. The man was quick. Carl expected as much from someone who had had military training. This guy was not going to be a pushover.
“Damn you!” Nichols said, seething. “What did you do?”
Carl didn’t care to answer anything this bastard said. However, Nichols was loosening Carl’s hold on his gun. Then, with a mighty kick, Nichols booted the firearm out of Carl’s hand. Nichols then tried dashing for the weapon, but Carl cut him off with a sharp kick to the man’s legs.
It didn’t trip Nichols, but did cause him to stumble backward a bit. He quickly regained his bearings and spread his arms in a fighting stance.
“You came for the girls. Why am I not surprised? Another self-righteous son of a bitch out of basic training.” Nichols’s sneer looked more vicious in the pouring rain.
“It’s a shame that Camp Jefferson isn’t still operating or I’d put your ass in front of a firing squad,” Carl said with almost equal venom.
“Well, forget it, Captain America. The U.S. just got a big going out of business sign put on its front door and I’m taking the goods just before the whole place goes under. You--you’re just one more stupid asshole who doesn’t know when to take advantage of a good thing.”
“I guess you and Ben really are kindred spirits,” Carl said as he threw a punch. He badly wanted to spill this guy’s teeth across the lawn.
But Nichols countered, using his arm to brush Carl’s punch off course and into empty air. “He had the men. I just opened the door for him.” Nichols then punched back, and it was Carl’s turn to counter it.
“You betrayed your fellow soldiers!” Carl struck back angrily. Nichols caught it, but Carl’s anger still forced Nichols backward.
“Betrayed what? What did all those years of training and service get me? Why’d I always get left behind for promotion while those other idiots moved up? They only knew how to lick boots and kiss ass! Well that wasn’t me!” Nichols threw another punch. He struck Carl but in the rain his fist slipped a little. Carl wasn’t too badly hurt and he was able to stay on stride. “I only wish I got more of them when I torched the barracks!”
“You murdered them!” Carl’s next punch connected with Nichols’s face. A spate of blood trickled down Nichols’s chin.
“Who the hell cares anymore?” Nichols then punched back, with this blow hitting Carl upside the head.
“Soldiers or mothers or fathers, it’s all the same now! We’re all in the same boat, Mathers! I’m going to take what I want and no one’s going to stop me!” Nichols hit Carl again. “And certainly not a flag waving do-gooder like you!”
Carl coughed. That last blow knocked Carl dizzy. However, something Nichols said kept a grip on his attention. “Mothers. Fathers. Are you talking about the men and women in that base, or maybe someone else? Maybe a mom, a dad, an older boy and a small boy?” Carl stood up straight, flinging blood off his knuckles. “A small boy hiding in a closet?”
Nichols chuckled. “What? You sound like you found that nice little house not too far from the train tracks. Damn, I can’t believe you found that place too.”
Blood rushed to Carl’s face. So, these people were the ones who had killed the Sevigny family. Carl’s desire to rip the
se bastards apart hit its high mark.
Carl assailed Nichols with a punch so quickly that Nichols did not even have time to block it. The blow sent the treacherous soldier slamming into the dirt. Carl then followed up with a kick into the man’s stomach.
“Damn you!” Carl kicked again. “Damn you to Hell!”
But Nichols rolled away before Carl could kick a third time. Then he sprang to his feet and jabbed Carl’s arm with a small glass shard. Carl recoiled, clutching his arm. Nichols must have had one of those shards stuck in his clothes when he bailed through the glass.
Nichols then tackled Carl hard. The pair went down on the ground in an angry, struggling mass, with Carl now faced with the fact that Harold would have to take out the remaining men by himself.
Chapter Twenty
At the time the explosion went off, Harold had taken his position behind an oak tree with the front door just ahead. Matthew was a few yards away, secluded behind the closest tree to the house, with Tom even farther down, to the point where he could view the back door. This chain from Tom to Matthew to Harold would help convey any sudden changes to Preston’s and Michael’s fortunes.
Harold, his gun drawn, waited for the first round of men to emerge from the doorway. He had no idea how far the explosion would reach. It could engulf the entire interior of the home through the kitchen and living room, or merely take out just the general area of the gas tanks, perhaps no more than one or two rooms. Ideally, the explosion would take out or incapacitate all of the men, but Harold knew that was not likely to happen.
Part of the reason Harold wanted Carl’s explosion to take out all of Ben’s men was that the more men the explosion killed, the fewer his boys would have to kill. Harold was ready to take lives if necessary, but he hated the notion that his boys, as dependable and as strong as they were, would have to do the same. But at least Carl would be on hand as backup.
Silent Interruption (Book 3): An Uncertain Passage Page 15
