by Tate, Harley
“It’s you he was worried about. Not him.” Holly reached out an arm to wrap around John, but he held her off.
“We should start moving. It’s not safe out here.”
Holly scrambled into the back seat and cajoled Tank to follow before John slipped inside.
She stared at him, but didn’t say a word.
John started the engine, flicked on the lights, and pulled out into the road.
Chapter Fourteen
John
Steam rose from the dewy grass as the sun warmed the horizon. John stood at the edge of a weedy parking lot, fifty yards across the Alabama border. A boarded-up fireworks warehouse hugged the road behind him, peeling red and yellow paint a garish contrast against the pale green field.
After changing Raymond’s blown tire, the group forged ahead, barreling through downtown Rome, Georgia, and on to the Alabama line. They stopped behind the warehouse, all exhausted and shaken except for John. Every punch, kick, and gunshot filled his veins with adrenaline and confidence. He felt a decade younger, like a boot Marine enjoying every minute of his first glimpse of action.
But this wasn’t the Corps, and he wasn’t fighting on orders any longer. This was the reality of life now and it would only get worse from here.
“You’re up early.” Emma’s voice carried across the humid morning air as she crossed the broken asphalt to stand beside him. Dark circles hugged her lower lashes and her cheeks sucked against her teeth. It had been a difficult week even for John, but for an ordinary person like Emma who never knew the dark side of combat, it must have been akin to a nightmare.
John smiled and tried to make it mean something. “Couldn’t sleep. Never can after a fight. Too much adrenaline.”
Emma rubbed her arms against the chill. “I never properly thanked you for what you did last night.”
“Don’t need it.”
“You deserve it all the same. When I heard the shots and you didn’t return right away…” She left the implication unsaid.
“Like I said last night, they couldn’t shoot their way out of a paper bag. That jail must house nonviolent offenders. Drugs will be my guess. Maybe some bad checks. Not the hardened criminals.”
Emma tugged her lower lip across her teeth. “What if it had been worse? What if you died out there?”
John didn’t respond, stretching out the uncomfortable silence.
Emma filled the void. “I don’t think we’ll be as lucky next time.” She turned to face him directly. “Do you,” she paused, searching for the words, “Do you think you could teach me how to defend myself?”
“I already did. It’s called a gun.”
“What if I don’t have one, or we run out of bullets, or you’re not here?” She frowned at the ground.
Then it’s not going to end well. John kept the thought to himself. “I suppose I can show you a few things that might get you out of a bind.”
She tilted her chin and a ray of morning sun lit her hair like a halo of flame. John fought the urge to run his fingers through it as he pointed across the parking lot. “Let’s go over there. No need to wake anyone up.”
Emma followed, John aware of every step. He cleared his throat as he stopped at the edge of the field. “Obviously, I’d hope in any encounter you have a weapon. But if that’s not possible, or you’re caught by surprise, then your first line of defense is to block.”
He brought his fists up into a defensive position. “Use your forearms, elbows, shoulders, whatever you can, to prevent an assailant from making contact with your torso.”
“Is that why boxers always dance around in the ring with their arms up?”
“Yes. A blow to the middle and you risk a broken rib, internal bleeding, or something worse. A blow to the head can knock you unconscious. But if someone strikes your arm, you’ll be okay.” He ran through a few softball punches, showing Emma how to block effectively. “Practice is the only way this becomes routine.”
They worked through them again, John increasing speed and variety as Emma’s confidence grew. When she began to tire, sucking air through her mouth like a sprinter after the hundred-yard dash, John stepped back.
“What if defending isn’t enough?” Emma rested her hands on her head as her breathing slowed. “What if the guy outweighs me by a hundred pounds, or he’s got a gun, or a knife, or—”
“If you can’t fend an attacker off, then you need to go on the offense.” John stuck his thumbs out before curling his fingers into fists. “This is disgusting, I know, but jamming your thumbs straight into an attacker’s eyeballs is an effective deterrent.”
Emma curled her lip in disgust.
“Pretend you’re scooping out an avocado pit.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Don’t think, just do it. No one’s going to come after you blind and in pain.”
She still looked skeptical.
“Do you have any keys?”
“The one to my apartment, I think.”
“If you can’t use your thumbs, you could use a key. It’s not as effective—chances are you’ll damage an eye but not render your attacker blind—but it’s an option.”
She nodded, seeming to come to terms with his advice. “What else?”
John thought it over. “There’s the tried-and-true knee to the groin.”
Emma laughed.
“I’m serious, but you’ve got to put all your weight behind it. Say a man is coming in at you here.” He reached out and grabbed her by the waist. “He’s about to pick you up, hoist you over his shoulder. You’re not going to fend him off with a little bump.” He mimicked a weak knee thrust. “You need to bring him down. Incapacitate so you have a chance to get away.” John stepped back and brought all of his effort into thrusting his knee forward and up. “All of your weight, got it?”
Emma mimicked his movements, jabbing the air with her knee.
“That’s good, but harder.” He ran her through the motion again and again until she understood how much force he expected. When she’d managed to put enough force into the movement that it threw her off-balance, he nodded in approval. “That should give you a fighting chance.”
“What about throwing a punch?” Emma wiped a sheen of sweat off her brow as her breathing slowed again.
John smiled. “I don’t mean to sound condescending, but any punch you throw will only waste your time. At your height and weight, you have to play dirtier, fight harder. Two men can box with even odds, but you’ll only lose.”
As reality sunk in, color faded from Emma’s cheeks. John didn’t know if anything he taught her would sink in. Even the newest combat arms Marine trained for over forty hours in hand-to-hand combat with the luxury of a rifle by their side.
Nine times out of ten, one of Dane’s crew would shoot first and never ask a single question. But if this little glimpse of training gave her confidence and allowed her to act without doubt, it might be worth it.
“Thank you for helping this morning and for last night,” Emma began. “I know Raymond isn’t your biggest fan, but —”
John waved her off. “He has his reasons.”
“I know, but after last night—”
“He’s never going to change his mind, Emma. Frankly I’m surprised you did.”
Emma regarded him for a moment, expression unreadable. “You saved my life more than once. I think you’ve proven that you don’t want to hurt me. Not if you can help it.”
She reached out and gave John’s shoulder a squeeze. The touch of her fingers sent a jolt of electricity straight through his skin. He didn’t know when he’d grown so fond of her. He frowned. “Dane is never going to stop looking for you.”
Emma dropped her hand. “At some point, doesn’t he have to?”
“Not until the government reneges on their deal or he’s dead. He sees this is his last opportunity.”
“For what?”
“Security. Success. What he’s always wanted.” John ran a hand over his hair
. “The world has changed, Emma. The old rules no longer apply. He won’t be stealthy or secretive or try to take you out like an accident. He’ll come for you by whatever means necessary.”
He dropped his hand and let the truth slip out. “I don’t know if I’m enough. I don’t know if I can keep you safe.”
She smiled, not with happiness, but kindness. “Whatever happens, happens. I’m thankful that you’re here, but I know there are no guarantees.”
John forced himself to keep eye contact.
“If you ever change your mind and want to leave…If there’s someone out there waiting on you…”
“There’s no one.” John turned away, staring out at the wild grasses undulating under the weight of the wind. “Protecting you, Gloria, and Holly…even that damned dog. It’s given me purpose. I can’t explain it any better than that. I hope you understand.”
Emma reached out and wrapped her fingers around his hand. They stood together in the quiet of the morning, watching the sun crest over the line of trees until a deep voice, full of authority, cut across the lot.
“We should get moving.”
John turned. Raymond stood at the front of the Explorer, arms crossed over his barrel chest, biceps straining his T-shirt sleeves.
Emma leaned toward John. “I can talk to him if you want me to.”
“Let him think he’s in control if that makes everything a little easier.”
Emma pulled her hand away, whatever moment they shared, broken by the truth. She strode across the lot, back to Raymond and Gloria and the people she’d known years before John. He watched her go, unexpected emotions rising up inside his chest. If he didn’t get a handle on himself soon, he would never be able to fend Dane off.
Chapter Fifteen
Emma
Emma stared out at the monotonous landscape, eyes glazing over from exhaustion. The ever-present undercurrent of unease hung about the car like the smell of yesterday’s fast food, stale and heavy. Her eyes half-closed before she processed what she’d seen. Emma threw out her hand. “Stop the car.”
John slowed. “Why?”
She twisted around in the passenger seat. “I think we passed a gas pump back there at the T intersection.”
John threw the Jeep in reverse, backing up until Emma tapped the glass of the passenger-side window. “There, see it? It’s off the road a fair amount.” She chewed on her lip. “Is that someone’s farm? Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“We’re almost on fumes.” John handed the walkie-talkie to Emma. “It’s this or we run out.”
She frowned at the device as she clicked it on. “Raymond, are you there?” She released the button and waited. After a moment, the static cleared, and Raymond’s voice cut across the line. “Why did y’all stop?”
“There’s a gas pump.” Emma hesitated. “Looks old and mechanical. If it is, I can get it running.”
“Is anyone nearby?”
“No.”
John eased the Jeep off the road, bumping over gravel and weeds until he pulled up alongside the pump.
The walkie-talkie crackled again. “We’ll turn around and meet you there.”
Emma set the walkie-talkie on the dash. “He doesn’t sound happy.”
“He doesn’t have much of a choice.” John shifted into park and killed the engine. “It’s either get gas or leave all of the supplies we’re carrying behind.”
“I’ll take Tank for a little walk to stretch his legs.” Holly tried to sound cheerful, but the strain carried through her voice.
Emma smiled as she opened the passenger-side door. “Thanks, Holly.” She hopped out and crossed behind the vehicle to the pump. Rust spiderwebbed across the chipped blue enamel paint and a crack sliced the glass covering the display, but it didn’t appear worse for wear.
“Can you get it working?” John peered over her shoulder.
“I think so. All mechanical pumps before the sixties are pretty much the same.” She checked the hose leading from the pump to the handle. No visible cracks or tears. Everything appeared in working order. She reached for the padlock bolted above the handle. “We won’t know until we get this off, though.”
John turned and opened the driver’s-side door, leaning across the console to pop the glove box. He returned with a slim black case. “Give me a minute and we’ll know for sure.” He opened the little case and fished out two long, slender pieces of metal. He set to work on the lock, using one of the pin tools as a stabilizer and one as a shim, fishing it back and forth to catch the lock. Within a minute, the padlock popped open.
He pulled it open with a tight smile. “We can lock back up when we’re done.”
Emma nodded before lifting the handle. She turned toward the Jeep and stuffed the handle into the tank before flipping up the latch. The pump flipped on, mechanical gears rolling the rotary numbers as gas filled the tank. It wasn’t the ideal situation, stealing from some farmer in the middle of Alabama, but what could they do?
She thought about their supplies. “We should leave something in exchange. Maybe a case of water or canned goods and a note?”
“Guys?” Holly called out from the edge of the grass. “Hey, guys?”
Emma didn’t look up, concentrating on the gas pump in her hand. “Almost done!”
John cursed and shifted beside her. At last, Emma glanced up. A woman stood twenty feet away, rifle pointed straight at her. Emma stepped back, releasing her hold on the gas pump as she lifted her hands in the air.
“Not another move or so help me, I’ll shoot you where it hurts.”
John stepped in front of Emma, but she swatted at him until he moved aside. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We have been trying to find gas for miles. We’ve got to make it all the way to Mississippi as soon as possible. We were planning on leaving a case of food and water in exchange,” she offered with a hopeful smile.
The woman’s frown deepened. “Sure you were, now that you’ve been caught. Didn’t see you looking for the owner of this here gas before you broke in and started using it. If I hadn’t come along, you’d be on your way with a full tank and no one else the wiser.”
“I suggest you lower that rifle.” John’s tone wasn’t friendly in the slightest.
Emma glowered at him. “Don’t mind him, he’s a bit grouchy.” She tried again. “I meant what I said. We don’t have cash, but we do have food and water.”
The woman with the rifle nodded toward the vehicle. “I don’t see anyone rushing to unload.”
Emma swallowed and glanced at John. Muscles ticked in his jaw and his hand hovered above the gun tucked beneath his shirt. She sucked in a deep breath. The last thing Emma wanted was a shootout with an innocent woman just trying to protect a neighbor’s resources.
The Explorer coasted to a stop on the road and the passenger door opened. Pringles hopped out, giving his body a head-to-toe shake before running up to the stranger. She jerked her head, rifle rotating in a wide arc as she sidestepped away from Pringles.
Gloria climbed down from the Explorer calling Pringles’ name. She smiled as she approached the woman, ignoring the rifle pointed at Emma and the others. “I’m so sorry. He’s been cooped up in this car all day. Never met a human he doesn’t like.”
“Get him away from me before I shoot him.”
Gloria scooped Pringles up without so much as a shiver. “I’m sorry if my friends here are taking your gas without permission.”
The woman nodded in appreciation, graying hair falling across her pale eyes. “I appreciate that. Doesn’t change what they did though.”
“No, it sure doesn’t, but I’m more than willing to pay the going rate.”
“Cash is no good here.”
Gloria smiled. “That’s good because we have more food than cash. Canned chicken, tuna, some beans. Fair bit of rice, too. How about we make a deal?”
“What seems to be the trouble?” A new voice sounded from behind Emma and she spun to find a man standing a few paces back, face obscured by the shadow o
f a cowboy hat.
The woman lowered her rifle a fraction. “Mayor Samson, didn’t expect to see you here.”
“You know I’m always ready to deal with local disputes.”
“This ain’t local. These strangers came and stole some of Marty’s gas. Cut the lock.”
“No, we didn’t.” John held up the intact lock as proof.
The mayor tipped his hat. “If you didn’t cut it, how are you pumping it?”
Emma’s cheeks heated. John crossed his arms across his chest. “We unlocked it.”
“Did Marty give you permission?”
“No.”
“Then it seems to me y’all have been stealing. That’s an offense punishable by a stint in the town jail.”
Gloria stepped forward, smiling as she tossed her brown curls over her shoulder. “Like I told your constituent here, we have more than enough to trade. Food, water, what is it that you all need the most of?”
The mayor lifted his hat for the first time and Emma glimpsed a pair of dark brown eyes deep set in a tan face. He raised an eyebrow in Gloria’s direction. “Well, that seems like a reasonable deal, don’t you think, Suzanne?”
The woman with the rifle started to argue, but one tip of the mayor’s hat and she stopped. “If that’s what you want, Mayor.”
“We do have a whole ton of mouths to feed back at the community center. With everyone sheltering in place until help comes, we can use all the supplies we can get.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Is your whole town there?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re sheltering in place as we wait for word from the state. Can’t imagine the power will be out more than a few more days and then we’ll get back to normal lickety-split.” He smiled. “We’ve got an organized daycare for the kids, school during regular hours, plenty of socializing and neighborly chats. All in all, it’s almost like a mini vacation.”
