by Jack Hunt
“So you expected forty of us to go up against a hundred of Mack’s people?” Frank asked.
“No, I expected us to stay inside the walls and at least ride out the next two years with minimal to no contact with the population at large. But oh no, you just had to let him get under your skin. No, you had to go and…”
Before he could finish, Frank grabbed a hold of him and forced him against the side wall.
“I would advise you to be careful with what you say next.”
John pushed back unafraid of his threat.
“What? What you going to do, Frank? Put me in the sweatbox again? Been there, done that. Let’s not forget. You were the one that pulled me out. You need me outside, don’t forget that!”
He pushed Frank back and returned to scanning the perimeter. Frank blew out air, tired of fighting with him. The fact was he was right.
“At least tell me how many there are?” he asked.
“No clue, it’s hard to get a bead on them as they keep shifting position.”
“So who are they?”
“How the hell am I meant to know?” John said lifting the binoculars to get a better look.
“Well can’t you identify any of them?”
A round lanced the wooden frame close to Frank, and a piece of wood struck him in the face. He dropped to the floor in a panicked state and brought his rifle around. “Mother f—!” He began bellowing. “ I want every man we have got on these walls right now!”
“And who’s going to watch over the rest of them?”
“They aren’t going anywhere, John. And even if they got out, where would they go? Just do it. Radio it in now.”
He scowled and got on the radio telling the rest of their guys to move their asses to the south side.
Edwin pulled back from the shady knoll, his eyes wide and a look of fear on his face. He scrambled down to where Clive and the other nineteen were positioned.
“They’re coming. There are way too many.”
“How many?”
“In the hundreds.”
“What?” someone barked glancing at the rest with a look of horror. Clive was beginning to think that Mack had left out some important facts about how many Shelby had managed to recruit.
Edwin shook his head. “Mack never said anything about this. We are going back right now.” He got up to leave and Clive stood his ground.
“No, I’m going to speak to them.”
He went to move and Edwin grabbed him by the shirt. “Don’t be stupid! You go over there and you will get yourself killed. The best thing we can do now is to head back to camp, join the others and hope to God we can hold them off with the element of surprise.”
Clive pointed towards the rise. “These aren’t Shelby’s men.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Edwin replied.
Clive brushed him off. “You want to leave. Go. I told Mack not to send anyone with me, anyway.” He turned to the rest of them. “You don’t have to stay. If you want to leave, go now.”
With that said he turned and scrambled up the steep incline with no rifle in hand. His wife, Wendy, had begged him not to go but taking into consideration everything they had been through, at some point he felt the madness needed to end. It wasn’t just the lives of innocents that were at risk, it was his own wife — he was doing it for her as much as he was for anyone else. Clive didn’t look back to see if they stayed or not. He knew it was madness but with Elliot among the group he held out hope that if things got heated, he’d intervene.
Before leaving the camp, Clive had taken a white rag with him and tied it to the end of a long branch. Once he reached the top of the rise and climbed over, his eyes fell upon the group approaching like an army in the distance. He took a deep breath and held the branch high and waved it back and forth as he walked out into a large clearing with tall grass. He figured there was a fifty-fifty chance of them opening fire. Although his wife’s words screamed in his head, you’re insane! he pressed on choosing to be the one who stood in the gap and chose the higher ground.
“Don’t shoot!” Clive bellowed. “I’m unarmed.”
He kept repeating it while keeping his hands where they could see them. Rifles lifted but sure enough Elliot raised a hand, and he and another approached with the crowd not that far behind.
“What the hell are you doing?” Elliot said keeping his voice low.
“Stopping this before more blood is spilled.”
“You need to go back now!” Elliot said.
“No. Not until I’ve spoken to these people.”
“You don’t understand,” Elliot said in a firm tone.
“No, you don’t. If we keep giving over to this mob mentality, we’ll stay stuck in a circle of killing and living in fear of one another. Ray already called it in. These people aren’t Shelby’s. They’re just puppets.”
“These people will kill you,” Elliot said casting a glance over his shoulder as several of them looked on with scowls on their faces.
Clive ignored him. “It’s okay. No one will be harmed today.”
Elliot grabbed a hold of him by the arm and yanked him away with Samuel in tow. Before he could try and explain to Clive and bring him up to speed, Clive shrugged him off.
“Clive!” Elliot yelled.
“Enough!” he brushed past him. “Listen up. We don’t need to do this today. This is not the way we should live. We are not against you.”
“You’re with him, aren’t you?” someone shouted.
Clive was quick to respond. “I’m with no one. Killing is not the answer. We are not animals that must fight for scraps. There is more than enough for all of us.”
“Someone shut this guy up!” another man yelled.
Elliot tried to get a bead on who had said that, but several men pushed their way to the front of the crowd. “If you’re with him, then you are no better.” They raised their rifles and Elliot rushed forward to get between them.
“Hold on. Let me speak to him.”
Clive in his usual manner refused to listen and pushed past him. “This is between me and them, Elliot. Let me speak to them.”
What came next couldn’t have been stopped even if he wanted. A large man elbowed through the crowd and raised his Glock.
“No!” Before the words left Elliot’s mouth, the gun fired and Clive dropped with a bloody hole in his forehead. “What the hell!” He looked down at him and back at the man. Samuel hurried over and chaos erupted.
Pop. Pop. Pop. The echo of gunfire split the air and Elliot hit the ground. It was coming from a large thicket of trees in the distance. The rest of the group began to open fire, each of them trying to take cover on the ground or in the nearby tree line.
“Get back!” he yelled but his voice was lost in the snap of bullets coming from both sides. Elliot’s heart was hammering in his chest as violence took hold, determining every action from there on out. Down on the ground, hidden by the tall grass he glanced to his side just as a woman dropped with a gunshot to the throat. She wasn’t dead but blood was gushing out fast. He locked eyes and saw the light in her eyes fade. Seconds felt like minutes, and his mind flashed back to Fallujah, Iraq. The sound of mortars flying overhead, the staccato of gunfire, troops yelling, and the cries of men attacking.
Amid the chaos he noticed one of the men, the same one that had taken the shot, pull back and dart towards the trees. Grabbing up his rifle, Elliot stayed at a crouch and dashed after him. He sprinted into the trees in time to find the man speaking into a two-way radio. What happened next occurred so fast, his reaction was instinctual, nothing more than his fight-or-flight reflex kicking in. The guy raised a Glock towards him and Elliot shot him. He spun like a spinning top and his legs buckled. Elliot hurried over in time to hear a response come over the radio.
“Baldwin. Repeat that?”
He immediately recognized the voice as Frank Shelby’s.
Chapter 23
Nothing but dead air came over the radio. Shelby stood there dumb
founded. He didn’t know what to think. Around him the sound of gunfire was making it hard to concentrate. He could have sworn Baldwin said that Elliot had tried to intervene and stop the attack.
John moved into a panicked state.
“They’ve found him, Frank. I told you they would.” He shook his head and began pacing. “I’m telling you, Frank, we need to get out of here while we can. This is not going to end well. If we leave now we can start again somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?” Frank barked back coming to his senses. “There is nowhere else. There is nothing out there. Everything we need is inside these walls. No. We are going to control the outcome of this situation.”
“And risk our men’s lives? If Elliot, or Samuel manages to convince them to attack, we could be looking at two, three hundred people attacking. Now maybe we can hold off one hundred but not three.”
Frank grabbed him by the collar. “I need you to get a grip. This plays out exactly as we have planned. Nothing has changed.”
“Screw you, Frank!”
Frank pulled his Glock and placed it against his brother’s head.
“Go on. Pull it!” John yelled.
Before he could decide what to do, one of his men came over the radio. “Sir, we have a problem.” He removed his weapon and scooped up the radio.
“Go ahead.”
“Two of our men are dead.”
“What?”
He didn’t wait for the reply. Frank immediately began to climb down from the watchtower, all the while shouting to John, “It’s a trap. It’s a trap.”
Damon was close to giving up and having everyone head back through the tunnels to assist Ray when the door above them opened. For a split second he thought it was Shelby and had jabbed his gun skyward only to see the face of Rayna.
“Damon?”
“Thank God for that!” He blew out his cheeks as she extended a hand to Jesse and brought him up. Behind her was Ryan, and the scared and nervous faces of the young and elderly. The door to the office had a gaping hole in the middle, and it was loosely hanging from its hinges.
“We need to move now!” Ryan said looking over his shoulder as the sound of rounds could be heard farther down the corridor. The only problem was the fifty-foot ladder was full of those who had banked on entering the compound. Damon shouted down for six of them to come up while the others cleared the ladder so the people behind Rayna could make their way down. Those that came up were going to position themselves out in the corridor to provide support, but it was too dangerous. Shelby’s men were already shooting into those filling up the corridor. Blood splattered, bodies dropped, screams filled the air. No mercy was shown. Damon hurried to the door and cut the corner to get a clearer take on what they were up against. Farther down two soldiers had dropped to a knee and were opening fire on those filling the corridor. There were no commands to return, just violence.
In an attempt to save those closest to the door he stuck the rifle around the corner and fired over the top of their heads. Meanwhile Rayna beckoned survivors in. They snuck under his arm and were hurried to the opening and fed down into the darkness.
It was mass chaos. Screaming. Gunfire. Orders being yelled.
Damon’s stomach turned at the sight of young kids lying in pools of blood.
They didn’t stand a chance. He funneled his rage into an assault on the militia by keeping them under constant fire. A round punched through a soldier’s forehead causing the other to pull back for cover. It gave them an advantage — enough time to pull the injured out of the corridor and get them down into the tunnel but he knew it wouldn’t last.
Seconds turned to minutes.
Soon more soldiers replaced those that had fallen.
“Damon!” Jesse yelled beckoning him to head for the tunnel but he shook his head. Even if he retreated the chances of them making it to the ground before the soldiers burst in and fired rounds down were slim to none. No. The only way those who had managed to get out would live was if he held his position.
“I can’t!”
Jesse hurried over to him. “What the hell are you doing? Let’s get out of here.”
Damon replied as he slammed another magazine into his rifle. “You want those people to live, then we have to stay.”
“But…” Jesse said.
“No buts.”
More gunfire erupted and they pulled back from the door.
They only thing preventing the militia from storming the room were the mounds of dead bodies clogging up the corridor and the risk of running into the fatal funnel. It would have been pure madness. Several of Ray’s people kept them under constant fire, taking turns shooting around the door. One of them was shot in the hand and dropped his weapon. Of course this didn’t instill confidence in any of them. Eventually the militia would gain ground and overwhelm them.
“Go!” Damon said. “We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jesse replied. “We left you behind once, that’s not happening again.” He pushed past him and took a crouched position by the door and unloaded several rounds. The noise was deafening, and the smell of propellant filled the air.
Once they had managed to help the injured out, surprisingly many from Ray’s group reemerged from the tunnel to offer backup and assistance. Damon was about to say something, anything to convince them otherwise but the look of determination in their eyes prevented him. He’d seen it before in Lake Placid.
These weren’t people hungry for blood; they were desperate for freedom from a tyrant. For that reason alone he stood shoulder to shoulder with them as they fought their way out of that office.
As more of the militia were taken down, and they made their way down the corridor, Damon refused to look down as he stepped over the dead. It would have broken him and in that moment he needed to stay focused. Streaming down the corridor he felt a surge of confidence as he saw men and women determined to bring the fight to Shelby.
No one would run away that day. No one would turn back as they fought their way to the surface and out into the heat of battle. Unbeknownst to Damon, outside the walls, many others, sent by Mack to assist, had joined Ray. Persistence paid off. Under the constant attack many of Shelby’s men were killed, and the tide shifted. That’s when something occurred that no one could have expected.
Under the command of John Shelby the surviving militia, which amounted to no more than nine, laid down their weapons in the hope of being shown mercy by the very people they had shown none.
However, Frank Shelby refused to quit. He’d barricaded himself inside the chapel.
It was the worst mistake he could have made.
A father who had lost his son and daughter took it upon himself to take a canister of gasoline and soak the walls of the chapel before setting it on fire. Frank never emerged and no one heard a gunshot leading them to conclude he’d run out of ammo and chosen to die in pain rather than face his victims.
Damon’s eyes darted to John Shelby who looked on, his face a mask of anguish.
As minutes turned into hours, and black smoke filled the air, more of Mack’s group streamed through the gate. Only later would Damon learn what occurred in the forest, and what ultimately caused people to lay down their weapons. Some came to their senses before it was too late, others died with a gun in hand, refusing to believe that Shelby had done wrong. There would be many questions and time for answers but in that moment it was about justice, reunion and dealing with the confusion of how this had all happened.
One thing for sure, never before had Damon seen so much bloodshed and loss of life. There were no winners that day, as it wasn’t just the guilty who were massacred but innocent Americans — ordinary people who at one time would have stood together, lent a hand and come to each other’s aid but instead got lost in the madness of a madman.
As more of Mack’s people poured in, Elliot emerged from the crowd.
Lily, Evan and Rayna raced towards him and embraced.
Three days later, after the chapel had been reduced to charred rubble and Mack had executed John Shelby and the remaining militia, Elliot and family, along with Gary, Damon, Jesse, Maggie and Brianna gathered together enough supplies to last them several days before venturing south. For the first time in a while, the decision to leave wasn’t one-sided; neither Elliot or Gary made it, instead the group as a whole decided.
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” Mack asked, surrounded by hundreds of others who had come out to wish them farewell. “There is more than enough here.”
“I appreciate the offer. Who knows, maybe we’ll be back someday. For now, we’re going to see what’s beyond our shores,” Elliot said shaking his hand and thanking him for the supplies. Although they could have stayed and carved out an existence, they all had a feeling that trouble would once again raise its head. The fact was the compound offered a lot and it was tempting but if he’d learned anything, it was that a place like that would become a target for the desperate.
Elliot turned towards the crowd and thanked them.
Among them was Aaron Wade, the man that they’d been searching for. He’d been held in one of the sweatboxes and was close to death when they found him. To see him alive, and on the road to getting healthy, meant a lot. Calvin stood beside him, his arm still in a sling. Elliot watched as he and Gary had a long conversation before leaving. Friendships had been made and only time would tell what would come of them.
A few minutes were spent wishing Clive’s wife Wendy, Tristan, Brian, and Thomas well before they exited the gates and looked out towards the horizon.
“Hey Elliot!” Mack came out of the gate and tossed some keys to him. “The Jeep is yours if you want it.”
He smiled back and clutched them. Mack waved and headed back in. Elliot breathed in deeply. Rayna glanced at Elliot as she gripped his hand. “A penny for your thoughts?”
He smiled. “Oh, I was just thinking about Clive.”
