by Jack Hunt
Damon walked over.
“Where is Elliot?”
Samuel pointed to the south side. “He’s being held in the chapel but you won’t be able to get to him. There are too many of Shelby’s men guarding the place. That’s his golden ticket.”
Ryan pulled his brother to one side, out of earshot of the group.
“What about the office? Can you get us in?” he asked.
“Us, yes. Everyone, no.”
Chapter 17
Rain hammered the tin roof of the old house in the early hours of the morning. It had been an awful night of sleep. Gary had woken up several times in the night; once from a nightmare of the man in the woods pressing a gun to his cheek, and the other times were from a sense that Roger was watching him. He glanced at his watch; it was just after five, and still dark out. Through slitted eyes he stared at Roger in the armchair across from him. The shotgun was resting in the crook of his arm and pointing in Gary’s direction.
He looked down at his restraints.
Before getting some shut-eye that night, Roger had got Calvin to tie his ankles and wrists, then he tied Calvin using some old cord. They’d tried to convince him that they weren’t a threat but he wouldn’t have any of it.
“This is for my protection,” he’d said.
The thought of attacking Roger had gone through his mind countless times throughout the night, especially around 1 a.m. He’d heard snoring and watched as the barrel of the shotgun dipped in his arms. Gary had managed to rise to his feet but with his ankles bound it was impossible to move without causing a racket. Within seconds of Gary standing, Roger awoke and he’d had to come up with some excuse that he was thirsty.
Now, he once against contemplated how to get out of their situation.
Calvin was still asleep. He heard him several times in the night groaning in pain. All he’d taken was a few ibuprofen but they weren’t strong enough. Gary slipped forward in his chair ever so quietly until he was able to stand. He’d only managed to move half a foot when Roger spoke without opening his eyes.
“Sit down.”
“I need to take a piss,” Gary said.
His eyes opened as if he’d been resting them. He sighed and got out of his chair and led him out the back door. It wasn’t easy. He had to hop, and several times he nearly lost his footing.
“You want to cut these?” Gary asked.
“You can hold it with your wrists tied.”
“It’s a little difficult. Look, I’m not going to do anything. And really, I think by now you should know we’re not a threat.”
Roger eyed him then walked over and untied his wrists but left his ankles bound.
“You think I could get some privacy?”
“Nope.”
“Well I can’t piss with you standing there.”
“Just imagine I’m another guy using a restroom.”
“I don’t use the urinals,” Gary said.
“Why not?”
“I’d prefer not to say.”
He chuckled. “Ah, performance anxiety.”
Gary frowned. “It’s nothing to do with that. I get distracted easily. I like a quiet bathroom.”
“Alright. You can go behind that tree over there.”
“Really? What about that bush?”
“I need to make sure you’re not going to make a run for it.”
“And even if I did, what do you lose?”
“For all I know you might be with a gang. You could return with your group and I’d be fucked.”
Gary rolled his eyes. “As if.” Seeing he wasn’t going to change the old man’s mind he hopped across the yard and went behind the tree.
Roger called out to him. “And don’t try anything funny or I’ll shoot your friend.”
His mind was spinning thinking of how to get out of the situation. It wasn’t meant to go like this. He tried to remain calm and speak to him like a friend instead of his captive. As he took a piss, he made small talk.
“Looks like we’re in for some rain today. About time. This humidity is brutal.”
Roger never responded, so he continued. “You think your boys can give us a lift to the FEMA camp today?” He finished and zipped up then hopped back out. “Like, you’re going to let us go, right?” Gary asked.
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“But we haven’t done anything.”
“You might have.”
“But we didn’t.”
“You broke in.”
“But we didn’t take anything.”
“But you might have.”
Roger had him kneel on the ground so he could tie his wrists, this time though he did it behind his back.
Gary shook his head; it was pointless trying to speak with him. He had an answer for everything and in his books, they were at fault. There was no shifting that. But that wasn’t what bothered him the most. Once he clued in that his boys weren’t coming home, he might make the connection with Calvin’s gunshot wound and all. As soon as they were back in the house, Roger went back to the window and looked out. Gary heard him mutter something about his boys before he shook his head and went into the kitchen to make some breakfast.
“Need a hand?” Gary asked.
“Very funny,” Roger replied.
“I’m just saying. I’m an expert in the kitchen and can make a killer omelet if you have eggs.”
“That’s not on the menu.”
“Pancakes?”
Roger appeared in the doorway. “Stop trying and shut up.”
By then Calvin had begun to stir. He glanced around in his tired state and yawned. “Is he gone?” Calvin asked.
“Does it sound like it?” Gary replied listening to Roger clattering pots and pans out in the kitchen. Gary returned to formulating a plan to escape. His eyes scanned the room for anything he could grasp and use as a weapon. Before he could do that, he had to get out of his restraints. Slipping forward in his chair he kept talking with Roger while he slipped his hands from behind his back down the rear of his legs and then pulled them around under his feet. Once he’d done that he reached down and started to untie his ankles.
“You know, you and your boys could join us at the FEMA camp?”
He feverishly worked away at the three tight knots. Roger had made sure to tie them tight enough that he’d have trouble if he attempted to escape. Sure enough, he wasn’t getting these bastard things undone. His fingers were too large and the knots were impossibly small.
“I told you. We’re not going, and depending on what my boys think, there’s a good chance you aren’t either.”
He could hear him shuffling, pulling out a cardboard box.
Gary tried untying the knots around his wrist with his teeth but it was just making the knots tighter. Gary glanced at Calvin in desperation then had an idea. He shuffled over to him and extended his wrists. He mouthed the words “untie them.” Calvin shook his head looking toward the kitchen. Gary cast a glance over his shoulder. There was no one there. “Just do it,” he said quietly. Calvin set about trying to untie the knots, which hadn’t been as tight as the ones around his ankles. If he could just get his hands free and find a weapon they might stand a chance using the element of surprise. Up to now he’d had his eyes on them the whole time. This was the first and maybe the only opportunity they’d get to fight back. Calvin managed to get one of the knots loose, and a spark of hope ignited. Two more left to do.
Gary continued talking. “I’m thinking your boys probably got caught in the storm last night. That rain came down heavy. Let’s hope they bring back some meat. I’m starving.”
Calvin gave an eye roll. Okay, pretending wasn’t his strong point but if he could get out of these restraints, maybe they’d have an advantage over this guy. He wasn’t exactly young or as agile as they were. One more knot was untied, and Gary kept looking back at the kitchen, hoping, and praying to God that he didn’t come around that corner. Hurry! He mouthed the word. In the kitchen the sound of clicking could
be heard. He figured Roger was lighting the Coleman stove.
The final knot came loose and Gary quickly removed the restraint then scanned the room looking for anything he could use. The only thing that caught his eye was a solid-looking lamp stationed on a side table. On his knees he shuffled over trying to avoid making a sound. He picked it up and felt the weight of it in his hand and then got real close to the doorway of the kitchen and waited. Calvin remained in place as he was in direct line of sight to the kitchen. They had to give the appearance that everything was normal. Gary’s pulse began to race as he heard Roger mumbling away to himself, then his footsteps starting to get closer to the door. He was in the middle of saying something about his boys when Gary reared back the lamp. It was a one-shot deal. If he missed, or if Roger managed to recover and get away from him, it was over. They’d both be dead.
It felt like the temperature in the room had gone up a couple of notches as Roger emerged. The barrel of the gun was what he saw first. Gary smashed the lamp directly into his face as hard as he could. Roger let out a yell as he hit the floor, and the gun went off. Gary dove on top of him and grabbed the shotgun with both hands, his ankles still tied together flailed around behind him as he tried to wrestle the gun out of his hands.
“Calvin!” He yelled for help. Having him sit on his legs, anything would have been useful. He heard Calvin get up but then heard him collapse. Blood was trickling hard out of Roger’s nose, and some of it he spat back in Gary’s face in between a few curse words. Roger was using every ounce of strength he had to push back but Gary maintained pressure. If he couldn’t get the shotgun out of his hands, he would use it to strangle him. He was gripping it with both hands horizontal to Roger’s face and pushing his body down trying to get it under his chin. The old man’s strength was weakening. A few more seconds of resistance and his arms buckled beneath Gary’s weight. He drove the steel hard against his neck. Roger began to choke, his eyes bulging. In between the gasping he cried for mercy. There would have been a time he would have given it, hell, at one time he wouldn’t have even done this, but society had changed and now only the strong survived and he sure as hell wasn’t going to give this guy a chance to turn the tables. Gary closed his eyes and tried to block out the man’s groans as he crumpled his larynx beneath the gun. He wasn’t sure how long he held that gun against his throat, but he knew when he’d breathed his last breath as his fingers gripping his shirt released and there was no more struggling.
“Gary. Gary. That’s enough!” Calvin said. “He’s dead.”
Only then did Gary open his eyes. He looked blankly at Roger but felt nothing. He should have felt something. Some sense of remorse, even a smidgen of guilt but there was none. He got up, panting and out of breath, and leaned against the wall. Not convinced he was dead, he fired a round into his chest. The sudden crack of the gun going off startled them both, then there was silence.
He staggered back into the kitchen and found a kitchen knife and cut the restraints around his ankles before freeing Calvin. They stood there for a minute or two looking at Roger’s lifeless body as blood soaked his shirt.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Gary went over to the Coleman stove and finished preparing what he’d just started. That’s how it was in their world. One minute they could be fighting for their life, and the next doing a seemingly ordinary, mundane task like cooking breakfast.
He turned to Calvin who still looked to be in shock.
“How do you like your eggs?” he asked.
Chapter 18
“I’m not saying I don’t agree with you, brother, but you are placing your trust in people you don’t know. They might say they will fight for you but in the heat of battle that could all change, and you know that’s the truth,” John said. Frank’s brother had been trying to talk him out of it for the past hour since the sun came up. He continued, “I don’t agree with Samuel, hell, I’d like to string him up but one thing he said made sense. Frank, we have enough food and supplies inside the compound to outlast them. If we don’t go out he doesn’t get what he wants. Give it a year, Mack will cool off and realize it’s pointless.”
“No, you’re just scared of what he’ll do if he gets his hands on us.”
“And you’re not?”
“I’m not afraid of him or anyone.” Frank inhaled on a cigarette that glowed a bright orange. He’d been up before the crack of dawn planning out how the attack would take place. He was sitting in his office sipping on coffee with a map of the area before him. Frank stared at it while his brother continued to drone on.
“Anyway, what do you care? You’re not going out. None of us are.”
“And what happens if he gets them on their side?”
“He won’t.”
“But…”
“John. Do you honestly think he’s going to stop a group of armed men and women heading for his camp to have a discussion? At the first sign of trouble he’ll unload. There is only one way this ends and that’s with them or our group dead. And if they die, so what? We start broadcasting again and others will come. There is an endless number of people out there just waiting to find a place like this. As long as we watch each other’s backs, word this right, we are golden.”
John shook his hand and leaned back against the wall. “I’m telling you. This is a mistake, Frank. I don’t feel good about this.”
He snorted. “You didn’t feel good about stealing that old man’s truck back in Hemphill, and you sure as hell didn’t feel good about raiding this place but look how it all worked out.” He stabbed his finger at his brother. “You need to keep your shit together. I can’t have them out there seeing doubt in us.” He returned to gazing at the map he’d removed from the wall earlier that morning. With a pen in hand he marked out different areas on the map in an L shape and added a few circles.
“We have over two hundred strong. Now once they get eyes on Mack’s place, we’ll have them divide into two groups, a mixture of the original New Hope Springs residents and the recent refugees. That should avoid any of them thinking of deserting. We’ll have team A go circle around and head in from the west, and we’ll have team B come up from the south. We’ll hedge them in.”
“And if they flee?”
“We’ll have our people pursue them.”
“No, I didn’t mean Mack’s group. I meant all of them. You might have thought about the New Hope Springs original people but you’re trusting the others won’t run.”
“Brother. Brother. Again you doubt me. I’ve already got that covered. That’s where collateral comes into it. Let me explain. Why did Samuel give up his brother?”
“Out of fear.”
“Nope. It was because he wanted to protect him. Okay, it didn’t exactly go as he thought but his brother is still alive. And the same goes for those out there. There are families among the newcomers. We’ll keep the elderly and children here. There’s the incentive to do what they’re told. We don’t even have to threaten them. Unless they return with Mack’s head, they don’t get back in and we’ll kill their loved ones.”
“That sounds like a threat to me.”
Frank rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s all about timing, John. Leave it to me. Just sit back and watch. Seriously, I would have thought you’d be stoked to see this play out because this time you’re not out there risking your neck. None of us are. We’ll hold down the fort here. Now pay attention,” Frank said showing him what he had in mind.
Elliot stretched out his back. He’d slept the night on a hard pew with nothing but a Bible for a pillow. He worked out the tension in his neck and looked at the two guards eyeballing him. After the dramatic introduction by Frank Shelby they hadn’t heard a peep out of him.
Elliot jerked his head to one of the men. “Hey. Any idea what’s going on?”
“You’ll know soon enough,” the soldier said looking away.
“You said that five hours ago.” Elliot shook his head and went over to Rayna and gave her a shake. “Rayna. Wake
up.”
Bleary eyed she looked up at him. “What time is it?” she asked pawing at her eyes.
“Just after seven.”
She rolled up into a seated position and groaned. “Oh God, my back is stiff.”
“Yeah, they don’t make these for comfort. That’s for sure.”
“Any word?” she asked.
He glanced at the men again.
“Just the same shit.”
She nodded. “I’m thirsty.”
“Okay, hold tight, I’ll see if these assholes have a heart.” He got up and headed down the aisle to the double doors where they were standing across from each other holding their rifles down. As he approached they raised them slightly.
“Settle down, guys, we just need some water and maybe a place to take a piss.”
One of them exited the building to go and check if they had permission.
Elliot stood there looking at the other one.
“You been with this Shelby long?”
He didn’t respond.
“Are we heading out today?” Elliot asked.
Again nothing.
“Good talk,” he said sarcastically while walking back to Rayna. He sat down beside her and eyed the soldier.
“How did you get on?”
“Oh, he’s a real chatterbox. His buddy went to get some water.”
She sighed and looked up at the stained-glass windows. Sunlight was beginning to spill over into the church filling it with warmth.
“Rayna Stanton?” Elliot smiled.
“Well, I always loved my old name.” She smiled back. “You know you didn’t need to do that.”
