by Lee West
Moving slowly from one concealed point to the next, Charlie worked his way in the direction of his home. About fifty yards away, he climbed a sturdy oak and watched his house. Paranoia might be getting the better of him, but he had no intention of being proven correct. Something was off. He could feel it.
Just after he settled into the crook of one of the tree’s thick, lower branches, a large dusty pickup truck barreled down his driveway. Shit. Charlie watched five heavily armed men offload in his driveway, rushing toward the house. They kicked in the front door and poured inside, shooting immediately. For the next several seconds, they fired bullet after bullet, shattering the first-floor windows and splintering the siding. They moved rapidly through the house, pausing briefly to reload before destroying the next room.
Anger consumed him while he nestled closer to the safety of the oak. He was tempted to open fire on them when they returned to the pickup truck, but his position balanced on a branch was tenuous, especially against multiple shooters—and he didn’t dare drop from the tree to look for a better position. If anyone was watching the front of the house, they might see him hit the ground. He’d have to stay put and watch them shoot his house to pieces.
Chapter Nineteen
The horse trail consisted of a barely worn path in most spots, indicating that stretches of it hadn’t been used in years. At other points along the trail, the path was deeply worn and easily discernable. They exercised caution in these more frequently traveled areas. Mike Sparr was relieved to be walking the path with Jane and Sam Archer. He had dreaded the thought of traveling to the safe house with just Jenny at his side.
Over the past two weeks, Mike and Jenny had moved from one neighbor’s home to another. They had hidden in basements, closets, attics and root cellars during the almost daily home searches conducted by the New Order. Their speedy retreat into hiding didn’t afford them the luxury of packing more than a school-sized backpack for the ordeal. Showing up empty-handed to the homes of his brave neighbors didn’t sit well with Mike. His neighbors were not only sharing precious resources, but also risking their own lives to shelter them. He vowed to return every kindness to the people of Porter, one way or another—and to repay the New Order for the atrocities they’d committed.
Jenny and Mike had moved to Porter just two years earlier, after his wife, Carol, died suddenly of pancreatic cancer. Mike thought Jenny would enjoy their new life away from the memory of hospitals and funeral flowers. Until two weeks prior, the move had done them both good. Mike had excelled in his academy training and enjoyed the sense of purpose gained from being a patrol officer. Jenny, on the other hand, made so many new friends in Porter anyone would have thought they were locals, despite having no family in the area. The community had treated him like one of their own from the start—all the way to this bitter end. He’d never forget that.
Glancing at Jenny’s tired face, Mike said, “Can we take a five-minute breather?”
Since starting on the path, Jane had kept the group moving at a tight clip. He appreciated that she had a daughter to return to but knew there was no way either he or Jenny would be able to keep up the pace for the long haul.
“Sure. How about if we grab seats on this fallen tree?” suggested Sam, pointing.
For just a split second, Mike thought he caught an annoyed look from Jane. It was too quick to be sure.
“How much further, Daddy? I’m tired,” whined Jenny.
Sam looked at his watch and then the sky. The late morning sun streamed through the dense canopy of the forest. Even though they sat in a shaded spot, the heat and humidity clung to their bodies. The musical chatter of birds continued, undeterred by the heat.
“We probably have another four to five hours of hiking. Give or take,” said Sam.
“I appreciate you keeping track of where we are and how far we have to go. Without the two of you we’d be lost,” said Mike.
Glancing at Jane, Sam said, “Well, we’ve experienced our share of being lost. It’s how we stumbled into Charlie. We thought we were headed in the direction of his house but didn’t realize how far off we were until he jumped us.”
“He was waiting for Officer Seits when we walked into him,” said Jane, before she recalled Mike’s relationship with Seits. “Sorry.”
Mike’s head hung low at the memory of Robert Seits. He knew Seits had been taken from the Cooper home and paraded around town before being killed. What he did not know was what had happened to the Coopers. Other families had been killed for assisting runners. The New Order men had no problem executing the entire family, kids included. The message sent to the town was loud and clear. Anyone sheltering cops or veterans would be assassinated. Jenny’s friend Melissa was a Cooper. For Jenny’s and Melissa’s sakes, he hoped the New Order had changed tactics.
Turning to Jenny, Mike said, “You about ready to go, honey?”
“Do we have to? Can’t we stay a little longer?” asked Jenny.
“It’s fine. A little longer shouldn’t hurt our progress,” said Sam.
Mike was relieved by Sam’s willingness to give Jenny a little longer of a break. However, he could not help but notice that same flash of annoyance cross Jane’s face. He stroked Jenny’s frail back. Annoyed or not, Mike now didn’t care. He would always put his daughter before everyone. Jenny had been through enough between her mom’s death, relocation and now all of this? If she needed a ten-minute break, she would get it.
Chapter Twenty
Charlie waited an hour after the New Order truck pulled out of his driveway before climbing down the tree. His body ached from its awkward position on the branch while watching the New Order men destroy his house.
Arriving at the house, Charlie paused at the destruction in front of him. The men had torn through his belongings with a vengeance. Beyond the obvious damage from the excessive gunfire, the sofas were slashed, the televisions thrown to the floor, and dishes shattered and scattered throughout the kitchen. Everything had been turned over, from what he could tell. And that wasn’t the worst of it.
A strong scent of ammonia hung heavy in the air from the numerous urine stains on the walls and furniture. One of the men had left a floating brown gift in the last remains of drinking water in his bathtub. Assholes. The last couple of cans of food Charlie needed to get him through the next day or two were gone, too.
The steps creaked under Charlie’s feet as he descended the basement stairs. When he stepped on the last step, he thought with a mean smile, Hope one of you assholes tripped.
The makeshift communications setup he’d used to ferry the brave men and women in blue to safety had been completely smashed. Fortunately, Charlie still had the handheld CB in his backpack. This would allow him to remain in touch with the Porter base. He needed to let Marta know that his time in Porter had come to an end. The men who did this knew where he lived and had likely figured out he was more than just a regular civilian. His safety depended on getting as far from his house as possible. This wouldn’t be the last trip they made to Charlie’s house. The last police officer hiding in Porter would have to wait until he figured something else out.
Just as he was about to make his way back upstairs, he realized that he’d failed to check the gun lockers. Two massive gun lockers stood in the corner of the room. Over the years Charlie had become a gun enthusiast, or an addict—however you wanted to look at it. He never met a gun he didn’t like and rarely let a good deal pass him by. Although he’d showed Jane and Sam the weapons he’d collected from the Evansville PD, he didn’t tell them about his personal stash.
Clearly the New Order men knew what was inside the lockers. Even if they couldn’t surmise the extent of his personal arsenal, they knew something of value was safely locked away. The exterior finish on the lockers showed the tremendous effort that the men had gone through to get inside. The doors sustained gouges, nicks, dents and deep scratches; however, neither of the industrial-grade safes had given in to their efforts. Both remained firmly bolted to t
he cement floor and wall.
The heavy-duty locks and steel-reinforced doors were impenetrable through normal means. Only a blowtorch and crowbar could possibly break open the doors. Even with a blowtorch, getting into the lockers was not guaranteed. Glad I spent the extra change for these babies, he thought, patting the side of one locker.
Charlie realized with sudden panic that New Order’s inability to gain access to the gun lockers made it imperative that he leave the house as quickly as possible. They were likely searching town for the tools needed to open the lockers. Once they acquired the necessary tools, they’d be back. It was only a matter of time. The New Order had access to the entire town. Every repair shop and backyard toolshed lay at their disposal. They could even force the local locksmith to break open the locks. He needed to move, fast.
Charlie pulled a small set of keys from his pants pocket and quickly opened both lockers. His entire arsenal lay in front of him. Several World War II-era rifles and carbines, painstakingly restored to working order, stood in stark contrast to a few modern, AR-style rifles chambered in both 5.56mm and 7.62mm NATO; hunting rifles of different calibers, with their own carefully zeroed scopes; shotguns, both pump action and semiautomatic; break-open barrel shotguns for hunting or skeet shooting; and then the pistols. Charlie had at least a dozen pistols, both revolver and semiautomatic models.
Moving all of the weapons would be a challenge, but leaving the arsenal behind was not an option. Then there was the ammunition to consider. Eventually, the New Order would break in to the lockers, giving them a substantial advantage in the inevitable fight when the police returned. He’d hoped to use these weapons to arm more of the veterans or civilians willing to retake Porter. He had no choice but to hide the entire arsenal.
Charlie moved quickly. He pulled out several black firearm-carrying bags of different sizes and types, which had been tossed on the floor and covered with a toppled shelf. Stuffing the bags to their maximum capacity took Charlie several minutes. Heaving one bag at a time over his shoulder, he lumbered up the basement stairs and out the back door to ferry the items to a safe hiding place.
When Charlie bought the house, he’d walked every square inch of his property, proud of his first home purchase. Toward the back property line, he’d discovered a little rock outcropping that formed a shallow cave on the lower side of the sloped terrain. In the winter he would check the shallow cave for sleeping bears. Now he would stuff it with weapons. He fit the first bag snugly into the back of the cave and then returned for the rest of the bags, knowing his time was quickly running out.
After securely hiding the bags filled with guns and ammunition in the cave, Charlie took one last look around his home for anything useful. The New Order had picked the house clean. Anything that could be used to survive was taken. All the batteries, candles, waterproof clothes and shoes were gone. The rest was destroyed.
Originally reluctant to accept the water filtration unit from Sam, Charlie was now grateful for the help. Having the ability to make fresh water from the creek would be vital to keeping him hydrated and able to move as fast as possible. He needed to catch up with Jane Archer and the others. If the New Order put the pieces together and discovered the trail, they could be actively searching for Jane’s group. At the very least, he knew they’d be searching for him. Putting as much distance as possible between himself and the New Order was essential.
Chapter Twenty-One
Paul Reed hated his current predicament. Stuck in this shitty car with Jack Reilly was not his idea of a career-enhancing situation. The Boss had said he could use a guy like Paul to help patrol the “outer perimeter.” The Boss talked like he was some sort of general instead of a punk like the rest of them. Punk or not, Paul wanted to advance in the New Order, and riding with Jack was not going to do it for him. The guy was as dumb as a bag of rocks.
“Pull over, shithead. I need to take a dump,” said Paul.
“What? Now? It’s almost time for the end of our shift. Can’t it wait?” asked Jack.
“No, it can’t wait, you dumb fuck. I have to shit.”
Jack maneuvered the old Chevy Impala off the road, onto the shoulder.
“Turn off the engine. The Boss said we need to conserve fuel,” ordered Paul.
“Really? I’ll roast in here without the air on. Hurry it up out there,” said Jack, lowering the windows before turning off the engine.
Slamming the car door behind him and walking off the road into the woods, Paul jabbed his middle finger into the air.
~ ~ ~
Paul needed privacy to do the deed. He wasn’t one of those guys who could just drop his trousers and go anywhere—especially for the deuce. Wading into the dense forest through considerable underbrush took more effort than he had expected. Maybe I should have waited.
After searching for a few minutes, he found a rock he could use as a makeshift toilet. Sitting quietly in the woods, different layers of the forest’s sounds echoed closely. The chatter of birds, the rustle of leaves and the sway of heavy branches filled the spaces around him. Then he thought he heard something out of place. Was that a child’s voice?
Zipping his pants quickly, Paul silently moved through the forest toward the sound. About a hundred yards away, in the opposite direction of the road, he spotted a small group consisting of two men, a lady and a kid. Runners. Better than runners. One of the guys looked like a copper. The hair was growing out, but he could still tell the guy had the cop top. Nobody fooled Paul.
He became giddy at the prospect of delivering the four of them to the Boss. He would be promoted instantly, no longer forced to drive around aimlessly with that idiot Jack. For a few moments, he considered fetching Jack to help. He didn’t want to mess this up. The more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea. Jack was more likely to screw up the opportunity than not.
Releasing the safety on his pistol, Paul rounded the tree concealing his location and shouted, “Get on the ground, all of you!”
The group was stunned and slow to follow his instruction.
“Now!” he screamed.
“We’re just trying to get home, no need for violence,” said the older guy.
“Shut the fuck up and get down!”
“You can have anything you want. We have no problem with you and…” said the copper as he quickly clawed at the kid, trying to move her to the ground.
The little girl stood unmoved by the copper’s attempts to get her onto the ground under him. Then the kid started screaming. The high-pitched anxious shrill angered Paul. The screaming grated on his nerves and the dude with the cop top was doing next to nothing to shut her up.
The kid would have to go first. No sense in hauling her back with that mouth going nonstop. The Boss hated kids, anyway, and Paul could not stand the noise for another second. He walked closer to the girl, aiming his pistol at her thin chest. Fucking loudmouthed runt.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Charlie’s feet burned, and his back muscles twitched from the heavy pack and the additional ammunition for his rifle. He’d moved so fast for the past forty-five minutes that he barely had time to register the pain in his body. Unfortunately, stopping wasn’t an option. Not if he wanted to catch up with Jane and warn them that the New Order might have additional scouts out looking for runaways.
Looking ahead of him on the trail, Charlie caught a glimpse of Jenny’s pink shorts through the dense brush. Just as he was about to call out, Jenny let out the loudest scream he had ever heard. Moving several feet forward on the trail, more of the scene unfolded. Jane and Sam lay facedown on the ground with their hands laced behind their heads; Mike was on his knees, trying to push Jenny to the ground. Something was going down.
Charlie pulled the suppressed rifle across his chest in the ready position as he entered the forest and quickly closed the distance to the group from the concealment of the trees. A short, overweight man with a smooth shaved head materialized beyond the brush, looming over the group and yelling. He poi
nted a pistol at Jenny, and his screaming intensified. Where are the others? Are there more New Order men in the vicinity?
Before he could formulate a plan, the man moved with obvious intention toward Jenny, his pistol hand extending further. It was a pattern Charlie had seen before on the streets. The man was moments from pulling the trigger. Charlie beat him to it, sending three bullets into the man’s upper body. The snapping sound of suppressed gunfire faded, replaced by Jenny’s frantic screams. Charlie ran to the group as quietly as he could. Mike threw himself over his daughter’s body as Jane scrambled to her feet and knocked the stunned man onto his back, disarming him in seconds. The man stared up at Jane and helplessly sputtered blood through his lips, unable to speak. Jane stood a few feet away from the dying man, her rifle pointed at his forehead.
“Are there others?” asked Charlie, arriving next to the group.
“Not sure. He just came out of nowhere,” said Jane.
“I’m going to search the area. He can’t be alone,” said Charlie, moving quickly.
“I’m coming with you,” offered Jane.
“I’ll watch him. Jenny, stay down,” whispered Mike, prying himself from the trembling Jenny.
“Be careful,” was all Sam could think to say, glancing at the dying man who had become their prisoner.
Moving carefully through the forest, Jane and Charlie quietly searched for other New Order men. They headed in the direction of the road, correctly assuming the men drove to their location. They both stopped and listened when glimpses of the pavement appeared in the distance. Music softly played. Someone was singing and drumming the music’s beat in a low thump. He scanned from left to right, finding the car beyond the heavy forest scrub. Charlie approached the driver’s side of the car as Jane moved behind the car and headed to the passenger side in a low crouch. They pounced at once, applying the full force of their training.
