by Hunt, Jack
Miles owned several. His father used to sell them, a vast array of hoo-rag face masks. He’d found them in the basement of his home on the night Demar had shown up, and stuffed a few extra ones in his backpack just in case he lost one.
“My name’s Miles. You?”
“Tom but most call me Tommy.”
He gave him a strained smile and was about to ask him another question when the doors to the barn opened and the boy darted into the nearest horse stall. The sound of heavy boots approaching was followed by someone snorting and spitting. “Boy, I know you’re in here. You better come out now or I’ll give you a lickin’!”
The kid stepped out in fear and trepidation like a cowering mouse.
That’s when Miles got his first look at his captor. He was a barrel-chested man with a gut that emerged like overflowing jelly out of his dirty white T-shirt. His jeans were held up with a brown leather belt that looked as if it had seen its day. He was wearing yellow workman boots and had a full head of gray hair and a salt and pepper beard that reminded Miles of Santa Claus.
“Ah, you’re awake. I expect this is all a big surprise to you.”
“Actually I wake up like this most days, though it’s usually beside a hot woman,” Miles replied sarcastically to which the old guy offered back a deadpan expression before bursting into laughter. He wagged his finger at him. “I like that. Funny.”
The guy spat a big wad of black tobacco juice near his feet then turned to Tommy.
“I told you not to come in here. You been talking to him?”
“No sir.”
“You lying to me, boy?”
“No.”
“Then what’s that in your pocket?” he hollered.
The kid tried to hide it but it was too late. As quick as a flash the guy lunged at him and grabbed him by the hair, yanking the kid’s head back with one hand while swiping the American flag mask with the other. “Then where did you get this?”
“Hey asshole, leave the kid alone.”
The guy cast Miles a glance before ignoring him and continuing his tirade. “I asked you a question. Well?”
“I…” Before the kid could spit the words the old man backhanded him to the floor.
“Hey!” Miles yelled. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, you coward.”
The kid scurried into one of the stalls, closing the door behind him. The older man turned his attention back to Miles and strolled over, eying him with amusement. “Oh, the mighty Hunter. The big hero. Saving the day.” He sucked air between his tobacco-stained teeth. “Why do you think you can stick your nose in where it’s not wanted, huh? Why couldn’t you have just done what all of us did and kept your mouth shut and your head down?”
He circled around Miles, looking at him. “I thought you would be bigger. Tougher. Smarter. Now I can see you are just another dumb hick.”
“Leave the kid alone.”
“Oh I’ll leave him alone for now, but not because you say so, but trust me, there are consequences. That boy over there is going to get my belt later and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. Just like there isn’t a damn thing you can do about the PLA coming to get you. But me, hours from now, I’ll be sitting back drinking moonshine and enjoying all the perks that come with hand-delivering the Hunter.” He grinned then fired off two sharp jabs to Miles’ ribs. He grimaced in pain as each one landed with bone-crushing strength.
The old man stepped back.
“I bet you want to know who I am?”
Miles lifted his eyes to him. “Not really. I meet a lot of dicks like you.”
That reply qualified for another sharp jab though this time it was to the solar plexus. It knocked the wind out of Miles and was even more painful than the last two jabs. He groaned as the guy wagged a finger in his face.
“You should be more careful what you say.”
Miles nodded, lifting his eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”
That made the old-timer laugh.
“If it wasn’t for the bounty on your head, I would slice you from ear to ear and feed you to the feral pigs roaming the woods but the mayor wants you alive. But that doesn’t mean I can’t send you packing with a few bruises,” he said before firing off one hell of a kick to Miles’ nuts. The pain shot through him and back again like a steel ball in a pinball machine. His breath caught in his throat and for a second he couldn’t breathe.
“Ooooh. That’s gotta hurt!” The guy laughed as he spat another wad of tobacco, this time at Miles. It landed on his face, dripping off his chin.
“They say your name is Miles Arrington. That right?”
When he didn’t reply, the man continued. “I knew your father. A giant pussy. A man who liked to run around in army fatigues in the forest pretending he was some kind of warrior. Look where that got him. Last I heard, the PLA tore him a new hole and now he’s buried in one.” He reeled back in laughter. Miles gritted his teeth and scowled. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Tommy open the door and look out. “I used to be like that. You know, thinking that I could make a difference but then I realized it was pointless. I mean look around you. This barn used to be filled with horses. I used to run a thriving farm, now I have little to show for it. They’ve stripped everything from us.” He spat again, this time near his foot. “Then I heard about you. Some hunter taking the fight to the PLA, helping the common man, inspiring the masses. Oh, it sounded so…” he clicked his fingers, searching for the words. “Legendary. And to some, that’s what you are. But what you don’t understand is there are consequences for your actions. Yeah, you might have fed a few people, even freed some. Sure, you brought the fight to the PLA but you also got my son killed,” he said through gritted teeth.
Miles frowned. “How?”
“He was inspired by you. Decided he wanted to do something. I warned him but he wouldn’t listen. Him and some others charged off and died trying to take out a checkpoint.” He looked back at Miles with disgust. “If you had just kept your mouth shut,” he said before striking him across the face, once, twice, three times. “He’d still be alive!”
The man continued to bombard Miles with punch after punch to his gut.
“Stop. Leave him alone!” Tommy said. The kid was holding a pitchfork, his hands trembling.
The old man looked back at him and chuckled. “Oh, little man has grown some balls. Shit! And I thought you were a giant pussy.” He slung Miles a grin. “You see what I have to put up with? This damn pissant thinks he’s a hero because of you. But you know what… he’s not even my flesh and blood. It should have been him that died, not my boy.” He stepped away from Miles, shifting his attention to Tommy. “You want to kill me, boy? Huh? You got the guts to do it?”
“Leave him alone,” Miles muttered.
The burly man ignored Miles and moved toward Tommy. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy whipping you.”
Miles tried to speak but the hard blows to his stomach had knocked the wind out of him.
“Come on, you pussy! Try it!” the man said stepping to the right then left. The kid jabbed the pitchfork forward but the old guy was too quick. He slapped it out of his hands and was about to attack the boy when a female called out to him.
“Owen! Leave him be!”
The sound of footsteps approached quickly.
“You better get your boy in line or I will,” he said as he turned back to Miles.
A woman hurried into view. “Tommy. Come on, let’s go!” He came out and rushed by Owen who took a swipe at his head. A woman with greying hair grabbed his wrist, then cast Miles a stern glance before she took off, leaving him and Owen alone. “The soldiers will be here soon,” she said as she left.
“Good.” Owen gave a broad smile.
“So what are you getting out of this?” Miles asked.
“Anything I want.”
Miles snorted.
Owen scowled. “What’s so amusing?”
“You haven’t made an agreement, have you?”
“I p
lan to.”
“Right. Straight after they take me, kill you, and burn your home to the ground.”
“Shut up.”
“Hey, just telling the truth.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“I know Davenport was like you before he died.”
He lied but had to try something, anything to get him to think twice about this. As long as his wrists were tied, there was little he could do.
Owen laughed. “Oh, Bernard. He died because he was a traitor. Who do you think told the PLA about him?” He took a hold of Miles’ shirt. “You’ll need to try harder than that if you think you can sway my belief in them.” He fired off another hard shot to Miles’ gut then one to the face, splitting his lip wide.
Miles spat blood. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Am I?” He strolled away and picked up a bullwhip off a hook. He proceeded to go around the back of Miles, then a second later, his shirt went loose as Owen used a knife and tore open his shirt, revealing his back. “Holy shit, boy, it looks like someone else has already beaten me to it.” He felt Owen’s rough fingers run over the old scars inflicted by the Chinese in his time as a prisoner of war. “Those are some beauties right there. Seems you have a way of getting on the wrong side of people.” He tutted. “Well, I guess a few more won’t hurt.”
With that, he heard the snap of the whip as Owen unleashed a flurry of snaps, each one striking his back and lashing at his flesh.
“Enough!” Miles cried out.
Owen came around. “But I’ve only just begun.”
“I can give you more.”
“More? What are you talking about, Hunter?”
“The PLA will treat you well for handing me over but the only reason they want me is so they can find the rest of the resistance. I can give you them.”
He laughed as he took a few steps back, studying him. “In exchange for what?”
“Just stop.” Miles shook his head. “I can’t take any more.”
Of course, he was lying through his teeth. While the bullwhip was painful, it paled in comparison to what the Chinese soldiers had inflicted on him. And with so many scars, his skin on his back had become leathery and tough, making Owen’s beating more of a tickle than a vicious attack.
“And they all said you were as tough as nails. But you’re a pussy like your father.”
“I’ll give you the location.”
“All right.” He nodded. “Where are they?”
“Come a little closer,” Miles said, coughing hard and pretending that he was having trouble breathing. Owen was hesitant, almost as if he could sense a trap, but his desire to get information that could net him more was too much to resist.
Miles reeled off some fake location.
“You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, Hunter?”
“Why would I? I don’t owe them anything.”
“Disloyalty. Wow. I knew it. And they said you were a patriot. More bullshit!” Owen chuckled as he turned to walk away.
“How do I know you won’t go back on this deal?” Miles asked.
Owen stopped and replied over his shoulder. “I’m a man of my word.”
Miles nodded. “So am I!”
In an instant, Miles did a stomach crunch bringing up his legs just as Owen was about to walk away. It happened so fast. Before he knew it, Miles had wrapped his legs over Owen’s shoulder and yanked him back into his crotch, he crossed one leg over into a chokehold around Owen’s neck. Using every ounce of strength, he held on to him as Owen thrashed trying to get loose but he couldn’t as Miles used his arms to pull up, lifting Owen ever so slightly. It wasn’t enough to hang him but that wasn’t the goal. A man could be suffocated in a chokehold using arms — legs were far more powerful and he was using every muscle he had to tighten the noose around his neck.
Owen thrashed, his face going a beet red.
His fingers raked at his legs trying to pry him loose.
It only required five to ten seconds to choke a person unconscious, anything beyond sixty and they would be dead. That sack of shit went limp at ten.
Miles wasn’t taking any risk and so he held him for a good two minutes before he released his body and he collapsed below him.
Exhausted, Miles heard the barn door open and footsteps approaching.
For a second he thought it was the wife but then the rope went loose and Miles dropped to his knees. He cast a glance behind him to see Tommy, holding a knife to where the other end of the rope had been tied to a stall.
“They’re coming,” Tommy said. He hurried over and began hacking through Miles’ wrist bindings just as the sound of engines rumbled nearby.
“Come with me,” Miles said. “You’ll be safe.” He slid off the loose rope and tried to get up but stumbled. The upper half of his body was aching and he was tired from having used nearly all his strength to kill Owen.
“I can’t leave my mother.”
“They’ll kill you.”
“No they won’t!” his mother said from behind them. She closed the barn door and raced over. “I’m so sorry. It was Owen. He…” she trailed off, then rushed to the stall and collected his things. She took the bow, the quiver, and his holster and handed them to him. “I never wanted this to happen,” she said looking down at Owen. “He’d become a different person.” Close up, Miles could see the remnants of a shiner on her eye, and her lip looked as if it had just recently healed up. In addition, the jean dress she was wearing hung low enough that he noticed a few red marks over her shoulder. She noticed and quickly pulled up her dress to hide them, embarrassment, guilt, who knows. One thing was for sure, Tommy wasn’t the only one Owen had laid down a beating on.
“What will you tell them?” Miles asked.
“That Owen made it up. That he lied about capturing you.”
Miles gave a nod of the head. “And him?”
“I’ll tell them I killed him because he was hurting my boy and lying to the PLA. Go. Go now!”
“No, come with me. You’ll be safe with the rest of us.”
She shook her head. “You won’t get far enough away unless I stay. I won’t have my son die.” Tommy placed his arm around his mother. “Would you take my boy with you?”
Before he could reply, Tommy was quick to cut him off. “Mom, I’m not leaving.”
For a brief moment, Miles thought he could hear his own mother’s voice. And for a split second, he was back at the house, at that moment, reliving the past. Outside they heard voices. A gruff American calling out to Owen. They didn’t know they were in the barn. “Take him out of here,” she said with tears in her eyes. Despite further pleading by Tommy, he eventually stopped and like Miles respected his mother’s wishes, but Miles wasn’t done.
“And when they ask to see your boy?” Miles asked.
A look of confusion came over her. She hadn’t thought it through.
“They’ll kill you. Trust me on that. Now I’m not leaving you here, and he’s not growing up without a mother,” Miles said. “So you decide — he stays or you both go?”
She nodded in agreement.
Not wasting time, all three of them exited the barn at the rear and lumbered toward the tree line. Tommy’s mother did her best to support Miles who was having difficulty finding his feet from overexerting himself. Miles looked back expecting to hear gunfire, expecting to hear a scream like his mother’s, but there would be none. At least for Tommy’s sake, this time it would be different.
7
Gunnar
The sky was already dark, and with night came a cold wind nipping at Gunnar’s ears as he readied his horse for the journey east to Jacob’s Cave. His departure had been delayed by another lengthy discussion with Arianna who wanted him and Miles to go with her to speak with the militia group known as the Watchmen.
He’d told her that he couldn’t promise anything but he would run it by Miles.
On his way to leave he was bombarded by questions from those in camp asking about the
recent deaths of the Springfield twelve. That’s what they were calling them. Everyone seemed to be in the know except him.
They wanted answers but he couldn’t give them and he knew Arianna wouldn’t offer clarity. Her approach to leadership was to delay, hold back information, and give people just enough to keep them off her back. It was the reason she hadn’t told them about why he’d left. That lie would soon catch up with her.
In his mind, honesty was what made a true leader.
As he was making his final preparations, reloading his rifle and stashing some dried meat into his satchel along with attaching some additional camping gear just in case he had to bed down in the brush at night, Scarlett approached. “Has Miles returned yet?”
The question caught him off guard. “What?”
“Well, he’s not back.”
Gunnar glanced at his watch. “He should have been back an hour ago. Are you sure you’ve checked the cave and the camp?”
“Yeah. No one’s seen him.”
He sighed. “Shit. I knew I should haven’t left him.”
“Then why did you?” Scarlett asked.
“Seriously? Not good timing,” he replied. It was a question that could have come from Arianna. “I need to get a message to Grady and warn them.”
“Then do that. I’ll go find Miles.”
“You don’t know where we were.”
“I know this forest.”
“No. If he’s run into trouble, I don’t want you out there.”
“I’m more than capable of looking after myself.”
“I’m sure you are,” he replied as he got on his horse. “If you want to make yourself useful, head over to Grady, tell him his camp has been compromised.”
“And if you go missing too?” she asked.
“Then get the hell out of here.”
Gunnar tugged on the reins and maneuvered the horse out of the camp.
A light rain fell as Gunnar raced through the forest. A full moon filtered rays of soft white light through a canopy of trees, illuminating the way as a strong wind battered his clothes. With the recent attempts on Miles’ life, he could only think the worst. The horse’s hooves made a loud noise as it galloped around trees. It wasn’t long before it was snorting and breathing harder.
