Fade to Grey (Book 1): Fade to Grey

by Brian Stewart

  I turned towards Emily. “Don’t move.” Without waiting for her reply I scuttled to the front corner of the porch and peeked around. No one was there that I could see. The front of the cabin has two small windows about three feet high and two feet wide each. Both of them have a grid of cast iron lattice for security bolted to the outside frame. There was no way I was going through them. Dead center in the middle of the front wall was the door. I quietly stepped onto the edge of the porch, pressing myself against the wall as I slid forward toward the closest window. The light from inside the cabin shining through the security lattice painted a warped picture of two checkerboards on the porch surface. I slid closer and pressed my cheek against the window. For a moment my heart sunk with the view and I forced my eyes closed, choking down the shadow of panic that was beating at the doors of my soul. Focus Eric . . . that’s Michelle in there, and you will NOT let this happen to her. My eyes snapped open, and as I took a mental picture of the scene inside the cabin, the tendrils of fear were pummeled into oblivion and replaced with rage. Michelle was in handcuffs, suspended from a rope thrown over one of the ceiling beams. She had been gagged, and her jeans and long Johns were around her thighs. The red flannel shirt was unbuttoned and her thermal top pulled up to just below her bra line, exposing her bare flat stomach and pale yellow panties. There were three men that I could see. A tall guy in jeans and a black sweatshirt, another guy almost as big wearing ripped khakis and a dirty long sleeve shirt with some type of skull and crossbones on it, and the third guy—short and stocky with a cowboy hat. I could see several guns, and each of the men held a liquor bottle of some type.

  A bout of harsh laughter came through the window. “What do you think boys, is she a real redhead?” Cowboy Hat spoke.

  “I know a way to find out.” Skull and Crossbones laughed as he walked up to Michelle and grabbed her hair with his left hand, forcing her to look at him. His right hand raised the liquor bottle to his mouth and he took a swig, then poured the remaining liquid onto Michelle’s stomach, soaking her underwear as it ran down. Tossing the bottle aside with a crash, he moved his now free hand onto her belly. Jerking her head back again, he said, “It looks like our little toy had an accident. I better look to see if she needs changed.” His hand slowly descended as Michelle struggled and screamed through the gag.

  I strained my vision as far as I could angle it, and swore under my breath with what I saw. Pausing for half a heartbeat to be sure, I cursed again and padded quickly off the porch and back to Emily.

  She must have made out the look on my face. “What’s happening Eric? Tell me!”

  I bit my tongue hard just to feel something besides outrage and fury. Steeling myself, I choked out the answer. “They have Michelle. Three of them. And I can’t get in, the bastards have the bear bar across the door, and the windows have metal grates.”

  “Is there a backdoor?” she asked quickly.

  I shook my head as I answered. “Yeah, but it’s always locked from the inside as well.”

  “Can we knock it down?”

  “We don’t have the time,” I answered . . . “Michelle doesn’t have the time.”

  “Do you have another gun with you?”

  “It’s in the cabin, and it wouldn’t do any good anyhow, because the only angle I have to shoot through is covered by glass and metal. Michelle wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “What about a knife or something?” Emily asked.

  I reached down to my belt and felt the silver-capped black handle of my old trusty Buck knife. The blade was barely five inches long, but still held a razor edge. It had been Uncle Andy’s hunting knife for years, and he had given it to me on the day I got my first deer. Emily’s gaze followed my hand, but she said nothing for a moment. I tensed up, mentally preparing the only option left to me. Punch through the window with several rounds, hopefully catching one of the bastards in a vital area, then move to the next window and repeat, all the while praying for Michelle’s safety. I reached down and turned the thumbscrews that held the scope mount onto the rifle. Open sites would be faster and allow me to shoot instinctively. It only took twenty seconds to remove the scope, but that was twenty more seconds with Michelle at the mercy of those barbarians. A millisecond before I got up, Emily reached her hand over and touched my scruffy face.

  “Eric,” she said, “thank you for rescuing me,” her dark eyes gathered up the early moonlight and condensed it into delicate silver reflections. She leaned over and kissed me lightly as she got to her feet. “Now it’s time for you to save Michelle,” she whispered.

  I furrowed my brow in confusion. “What? . . .”

  With a wink Emily said, “If you can’t get in to them, let’s bring them out to you . . . Get ready.” And then she walked straight out into the front yard by the yellow truck, taking off my baggy jacket and shirt as she went. I stood there open mouthed as a now topless Emily opened the driver’s door of the big pickup, used the drop step to climb halfway into the truck and mashed on the horn.

  “BRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP……BRAAAAAAPPPPPPP.”

  My momentary stun was lost as I heard footsteps inside the cabin. Without a pause Emily shouted out “HEY TOMMY, WHAT’S A POOR GIRL HAVE TO DO TO GET A PIECE OF ASS AROUND HERE . . . AND WHEN DID YOU GET A NEW TRUCK?”

  My eyes went wide as Emily beeped the horn again and then hopped down, moving out into the front yard and yelling as she went. “TOMMY . . . OH TOMMY, DID YOU FORGET OUR DATE? IT’S FLIPPING COLD OUT HERE, AND IF YOU DON’T COME OUT NOW I’M GETTING DRESSED AND GOING HOME.”

  I heard some hushed voices arguing inside the cabin, followed by low laughter and the sound of the metal bear bar being lifted. Light spilled out as the door swung silently inward. I plastered myself against the cabin side and waited. Several sets of footsteps went onto the porch, followed by a deep voice.

  “I must have been a good boy this year, William . . . it looks like I get another present.”

  I could see Emily from my angle, but not the speaker.

  Emily immediately tried to cover herself in embarrassment, all the while apologizing. “Oh, I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry, I thought Tommy was home . . . I’m so embarrassed.”

  I caught the slight change in shadows as somebody on the porch moved a bit. “Yeah . . . Tommy’s inside. He says to come on in.”

  “No . . . I don’t think so. I’m sorry to have bothered you . . . I’ve got to go home,” Emily said as she took a step backwards.

  I heard the sound of a shotgun slide being racked, followed by a deep voice. “Didn’t you hear the man? He said Tommy’s inside. So you better start walking forward . . . right now!”

  “Please don’t shoot me . . . don’t hurt me . . . please . . . just let me go home,” Emily cried as she took a few tentative steps forward.

  It was now or never. I thought back to the dozens of three gun competitions I’d shot in. Acquire. Fire. Move. That was the process. Deep breath. Another. Now!

  I spun to the left and brought up the rifle, clicking the weapon light on at the last possible moment. Standing on the porch with a shotgun pointing towards Emily was the tall man with a black sweatshirt. His position put him as a human shield for the cowboy. My front sight locked onto his temple, and I fired. CRACK-CRACK-CRACK. His knees buckled and he collapsed as Cowboy dove for the door.

  BAP-BAP-BAP-BAP-BAP. I fired off five more quick shots, hitting him several times but not stopping him. Thumbing the light off, I dove onto the porch and rolled towards the door as the window closest to me exploded. Using the momentum from my last roll to stand up, I charged at the door before they could lock it again. As soon as my shoulder smashed into the heavy door, there was a deafening KA-BOOM and splinters from the door frame peppered my neck. But I was through. I dove left towards the kitchen, catching a flash of movement as I did. Cowboy was holding his gut and stumbling through the doorway into the back bedroom. Three more explosions blasted through the cabin as Skull and Crossbones leaned out from behind the divider w
all near the closet. I could see Michelle struggling with her bonds as I raised the rifle above my head and fired a half dozen wildly aimed shots towards the closet. Several more gunshots detonated, and the blast as they broke the sound barrier whizzing past my head rang in my ears. Shifting the rifle to my left hand only, I drew out my knife and charged towards Michelle, firing at the closet as I ran. CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK and then I was there, lunging upwards at the rope that was tying her handcuffs to the beam. In a single fluid motion I struck the rope with the keen edge of my knife, still firing at the closet with my left arm. CRACK-CRACK-CRACK. The knife went through the rope like it was made of smoke and Michelle dropped to the ground. I dove behind an old leather chair and reached into my pocket for my other magazine as Michelle rolled toward the corner. Dropping out the partial magazine in the rifle, I fumbled my first attempt to slam the next one home. As I re-tilted it and jammed it back into the magwell, I heard another female voice screaming from the bedroom. From the corner of my eye I saw Michelle struggling to reach something at the far side of the room, but two more gunshots shattered the momentary silence and made me smack the floor. I knew I couldn’t stay here, so I hit the quick release button on the weapon light, raised both of my knees to my chest and kicked out at the leather chair. It shot across the room and crashed into a support post near the kitchen entry. It also drew another round of gunfire, so I turned the light on and pitched it like a hand grenade toward the closet, rotating up to one knee and starting to fire as I stood. CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK. By the fourth shot I was almost fully up, and I saw Skull and Crossbones lurch to his feet in front of me. The image of his hand on Michelle still burned in my mind as I pulled the trigger, stitching him from legs to face. CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK—CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK. He crashed to the ground and dropped his empty pistol, curling into a fetal position and moaning. Another scream from the back bedroom warned me that I wasn’t done yet, and the thundering blast of a twelve gauge shredded a tanned bobcat pelt on the wall next to me. I dove back into the living room just in time to see Emily poke her head around the cabin door.

  “EMILY, RUN!” I screamed as another shotgun blast slammed into the wall next to her. Michelle was still fumbling with something in the corner as I looked for some cover. There wasn’t any. Nothing that would stop a bullet that is. Two more blasts tore into the door frame, and then a voice shouted “I’m coming out . . . Put all of your guns down . . . if somebody so much as breathes, I’m going to blow a hole in the chick-ee here. DO YOU HEAR ME?”

  I didn’t answer.

  A whimper of pain preceded boot steps as the man in the cowboy hat shuffled down the hallway and into my view. His thickly muscled arm was clenched around the neck of a naked, bruised and battered, pale skinned girl. She had short brown hair with several chunks of blue beads woven into a rat tail, and her ghostly complexion clashed with her crimson flushed face as he choked her. She was bleeding from several wounds that I could see, and her hands were feebly hitting at the bulky arm that was strangling her.

  As soon as he saw me he jerked the girl closer to him, pulling them both back the hallway and out of my sight. “You want to die today . . . that’s fine by me.” Cowboy’s raspy voice echoed down the hall. “But I can promise you that the first one racing to hell will be this little girl here.” Another shriek from the hallway ended in a wet thump followed by some low cursing. “I’m coming back out now, and I’m taking little miss punk rocker with me. Once I’m at my truck you can have her back, but if any of you lift a gun at me, we’re going to have us a meat party, starting with this sweet young thing as an appetizer. YOU HEAR ME?”

  “I hear you,” I said, furiously thinking of options. None came to mind other than the ironclad belief that there was no way I was going to let him take her, whoever she was.

  Boot steps approached, and Cowboy came into view still gripping his hostage tightly around the throat. He was sidestepping to his right, facing me while edging closer to the door. A large stainless steel revolver was resting on top of his forearm with the barrel jammed in the hollow of the girl’s neck. A fresh trickle of blood from her forehead was running down her face and dripping in the crook of his arm. I lowered my rifle slightly, but kept my finger on the trigger—waiting for a moment’s distraction. A groan from behind the cowboy turned into a coughing plea for help.

  “ . . . Pinto . . . help me man . . . get me outta here.” cough . . . cough . . . “Asshole shot me up all over. C’mon man, help me . . . to . . . cough . . . the . . . truck.” Cough . . . cough . . .

  I missed my opportunity when the cowboy shifted his eyes momentarily toward the collapsed figure of Skull and Crossbones. Turning his eyes back on me quickly he said, “Looks like you done a number on old Kurt there. That’s too bad, I kind of liked him.” He sidestepped another three feet towards the door, watching me like a hawk as he did. His position was now twenty-four inches from the line I had drawn in my mind as the point of no return. With the speed of a cracking whip, he shifted his grip from around her throat to her rat tail, jerking her upwards slightly as she gasped for air. He also turned a fraction to keep himself squared towards me. Another sidestep put him a foot from the ‘last chance’ line. I saw the muscular cords in his forearm flex with effort as he hoisted the girl upward once again. As he did, the partially dangling girl screamed a guttural cry as she twisted in his grip and launched her nails at his face. The big silver gun discharged once with a deafening KA-BOOM, the bullet flashing past my face and shattering Uncle Andy’s small television. I dove to the left, firing off several rounds as I went. CRACK-CRACK-CRACK. The pale girl still twisted in his grip, scratching and biting as he backpedaled. KA-BOOM!!! He blasted again, spraying the floor with a cone of red splatter as the girl dropped, holding her hands over the large fissure that now appeared in her lower abdomen. I fired twice more, striking him once in the upper shoulder as he spun around, raising the magnum towards me. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of movement near the front door. So did he. Emily stepped from the shadows of the porch with a shotgun in her hand, already raised and ready to fire, but the cowboy was quick, and the simultaneous detonations rang my eardrums as time seemed to slow down. Emily’s blast clipped the cowboy in the leg, and his return shot knocked her backwards and sent the shotgun flying. My mind was screaming in rage as I rolled to the right and got up onto one knee, firing at him and missing. CRACK-CRACK-click.

  Shit . . . I was out!

  Cowboy staggered to his feet quickly, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he said, “Ohhh . . . Looks like you’re about to head down that long dark road,” he glanced hastily at his own wounds and said, “And I might not be too far behind you. But don’t you worry none, I’ll make sure I spend a little bit of quality time entertaining your friend before I go.” The big silver barrel rose, settling on my chest as the cowboy winked at me and said, “Nighty-night.”

  click.

  The smile dropped from his face instantly, and he swore a string of curses as he bolted for the back room. I was on my feet and sprinting after him a split second later. Even as wounded as he was, he still managed to get the door to the bedroom shut and locked before I got there. I crashed into it with my shoulder, splintering the center before rearing back and ramming it again. With a loud SMASH the door flew open and I ducked as he swung the large shed antler of an elk at me, shattering it against the wall. I got to my feet as he was tearing at the back door. There was a second figure in the room that my mind’s eye partially registered as I charged the cowboy. Strapped to the bed was another lady, partially covered with a blanket but not moving. The cowboy flung open the door and was moving through as I crashed into him, spilling us into a tangle as we rolled outside. He slammed his elbow into my chin and made me see stars as I knee’d him in the stomach and reached for my knife. Another blow from his fist glanced off my cheek, but allowed him to get his feet under my hips and he heaved me up and backw
ards at least eight feet. I crashed to the ground, rolling onto my side as I scrambled to get my bearings and stand up. Almost as one we both hobbled to our feet, me shaking my head and Cowboy holding his stomach and shoulder. We were both gasping for air, and in the semi darkness of the moonlit night I locked eyes with him, searing his image onto my soul as the definition of evil. And then, incredulously, he began to laugh. I gripped my knife tightly and stared back, willing myself to inflict maximum pain and damage on him as I said two words.

  “Max . . . protect!”

  As soon as those words left my mouth I saw Michelle in the back doorway, and she screamed, “ERIC, LOOK OUT!”

  Bursting from around the corner, a huge black missile barreled straight past the cowboy, giant paws slamming into the ground and propelling 107 pounds of death directly towards me before leaping at the last second, sailing past my shoulder and crashing into a snarling, shredding heap with a figure that had been right behind me. The horrible sound of flesh rending and bone snapping diverted my attention long enough that the cowboy leapt at me, covering the short distance in three steps. But I was ready in two. I ducked under his combination haymaker-elbow strike, and smashed my shoulder into his chest before punching the knife straight into his gut and ripping it sideways, eviscerating him. He went to his knees, his considerable weight falling against me as I withdrew the blade. Knocking his hat off, I gripped his short greasy hair and twisted his neck to look at me. There was pain in his eyes, and a deep, deep fear.

  “You go to hell,” I hissed through clenched teeth as I swiveled around him and slashed the razor edge deep into his windpipe. Standing up, I watched him teeter on his knees for brief moment before slumping forward with a final gurgle and hiss.

  Max was still tearing at a prone, shirtless figure on the ground. In the moonlight I could tell it was a skinny guy—maybe twenty years old. The parts of his body that Max hadn’t shredded were covered with tattoos. His ankle was locked to a long chain, the other end of which was wrapped around an oak tree behind the cabin. He wasn’t moving any more.