by Bruno Miller
“I swear, can’t trust nobody to do their job,” the man huffed. Vince heard his heavy footsteps on the wooden porch steps. He was coming their way. If only they’d have worked a little faster, they could have avoided this guy. Vince was mad at himself for taking the extra time and waiting to make sure the brake lines on every vehicle were actually leaking fluid.
The truck he and John were hiding behind was less than ten yards from the house and parked a couple of feet from the dirt lane that led back to the barn. A few seconds later, they heard the crunch of gravel as the man made his way down the driveway and toward the barn.
Vince looked under the truck, trying to see where the man was, but he couldn’t see well enough to locate him. He could only hear the approaching footsteps.
John leaned in close to Vince. “I got this,” he whispered. John crept to the end of the truck and waited for the man to pass by. A moment later the footsteps turned into a dark figure that stood no more than three feet away from the back of the truck. The man was walking slowly, and Vince could see the glowing end of his cigarette as he passed. John stood up quietly, pulled out his Glock, and took a couple of steps toward the man.
For a brief moment, Vince worried that John was going to shoot the man, but he realized the plan when John raised his hand with the gun in it. John brought the handle of the gun down on the back of the man’s neck with a sickening thud. The cigarette fell from his mouth and hit the ground as he turned to see what had hit him. But he only made it halfway around before his knees buckled and he joined his cigarette on the ground.
Vince shot up from his hiding spot and glanced back at the house. There were no signs of anyone else, but it stood to reason that another guard would come along soon to relieve the other guy who was watching Ryan. They needed to get out of here before that happened. Although the thought to wait there and take the next guy out as well crossed Vince’s mind, it was too risky and Cy was probably beyond worried at this point. They had pushed their luck enough for one night. It was time to go.
Vince joined John on the driveway and helped him lift the guy over his shoulder. The man had a revolver in his waistband, and Vince took it and stuffed it into his belt. He was feeling pretty good about their mission right now. They had taken out five looters, including the two back on the road, picked up as many weapons, and handicapped most of their vehicles, at least the ones that were parked at the main house.
By the count of cars, trucks, ATVs, and motorcycles, they were dealing with a large gang—much larger than he had anticipated. If he had to guess, this was some type of motorcycle gang or something like that. There must have been thirty or more vehicles around the house, including motorcycles and ATVs. There were no gangs around here that Vince knew of, and he wondered where they had come from. They weren’t local, at least not all of them.
Unfortunately, the house at the front of the property looked like it had a few vehicles parked around it as well, but it was too far away and too much of a risk to mess with. He and John debated it, but ultimately they decided to not push their luck. For all they knew, someone was most likely standing watch at that house, too.
Vince gathered the guns they had left at the barn while John took the body into the woods and hid it. He waited for John at the edge of the trees, where they had first entered the property. When John caught up to him, Vince handed him a couple of the rifles to carry.
“I guess they’ll know it was us now,” Vince said.
“What makes you say that?” John asked.
“When that guy comes to, he’ll tell them what happened.”
“That’s not gonna be a problem.” John turned and headed into the woods. Vince was surprised at John’s response, but he didn’t say anything further and followed his friend.
Chapter Twelve
Vince ran John’s comment through his head a couple of times before he realized what he meant—or at least what he thought it meant. Had John finished the guy off? That was why John had taken a few extra minutes to catch up with him at the edge of the property?
Vince was going to ask him to clarify his statement but decided not to. He knew what he meant without asking, and it bothered him for some reason. Vince had killed more people in the last five days than he cared to think about, but somehow it felt different. Those were in the moment. He didn’t think less of John for doing what had to be done, but it made him think about what they were becoming.
Were they any better than this gang of looters? Vince forced the thought from his mind. Of course they were. It was different. They were fighting for their lives. Vince and the others weren’t the ones attacking and kidnapping people. He thought about poor Ryan handcuffed to the post in the barn and the look on the boy’s face when he glanced up from his dad’s shoulder. As they made their way through the woods and down into the first ditch, all doubt about what they were doing and how they were doing it vanished from his mind.
The looters had brought this upon themselves. They were the aggressors, and whatever Vince and the others had to do was justified. He pictured Bill lying in a pool of blood in the motel parking lot as Reese struggled to help him. He thought about all the times he and the others had been shot at in the last few days alone. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever be able to trust anyone outside his small group again.
He hated who he was becoming and wondered if the others felt the same. But mostly he thought about how this would affect Cy, Reese, and the younger kids. Ryan would certainly never forget tonight. It would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. Like it or not, this was their life now: running through ditches, trying to outsmart bad guys, and fighting for their lives.
It was still plenty dark out, but Vince recognized the last series of irrigation trenches they were in and looked up as he tried to locate the car.
“Hang on a second.” Vince paused and set the guns down against his leg while he tried to catch his breath. He was smoked and just needed a minute to get his bearings. They had to be close now. John stopped as well and used the rifles he was carrying to prop himself up while he panted heavily. It was a good thing the air was cleaner out here in the country. Otherwise, they would have both been hacking up a lung by now. As it was, Vince’s throat was burning like it had during the first couple of days after the bombs. He wished now they had brought some water with them.
Vince reached up and flashed the red light on his headlamp toward where he thought the car was. The last thing he wanted was for him and John to be mistaken for bad guys and risk any friendly fire. Cy and the others had no idea what was going on and were probably more than a little on edge right now. He was rewarded with a few faint red flashes off to his left and less than a couple of hundred yards away.
Knowing they were almost back at the car gave him a sense of relief and a slight boost of energy. He didn’t have much left in him; this was the most exercise he’d seen in a while. His heart was pounding, and his legs were growing weaker by the second, but they were almost there.
They covered the last bit of distance to the car more slowly than when they had come out, but John was in the lead, and Vince wasn’t about to complain.
“What took you guys so long?” Reese asked. “We were getting worried.”
“We took out most of their vehicles and had to deal with another guy who came out of the house,” John answered between breaths.
Tom and Ryan were in the back seat, and Ryan looked to be sleeping on his dad’s lap.
“How’s the arm?” Vince asked.
Tom nodded. “It hurts, but I’m fine. Glad you’re back.”
“Cy, can you pop the trunk?” Vince asked. “We’ve got a few new weapons to add to our collection.” Cy met them at the back of the car and helped them unload their spoils into the Lincoln’s massive trunk. Vince was eager to look them over and see exactly what they had acquired, but he was too tired and too anxious to return to the relative safety of the motel.
“Let’s get out of here.” Vince slammed the trunk and
put his hand on Cy’s shoulder. “You’re driving.”
* * *
Cy was surprised to hear his dad relinquish the driving responsibility to him, but it made sense. He’d never seen his dad look so tired before in his life. Soaked with sweat and moving slowly, both his dad and John looked bushed. But as much as he worried about them, there was no denying that they knew what they were doing and had accomplished what they had set out to do.
Cy was ashamed to admit it, but at the start of the rescue mission, he didn’t think they would actually get Ryan back. It felt like they were looking for a needle in a haystack. Even with Buster tracking the scent, he was doubtful. Yet here they were: a little worse for wear but on their way back with Ryan—and a few extra weapons to boot.
Cy wished he could have gone along with them to the looters’ place, but he understood why his dad wanted him to stay behind with the car. It was an important job, and as unpredictable as the looters were, it made sense to be ready in case another car came along. Of course, he also figured it was a way for his dad to keep him and Reese out of harm’s way. Sooner or later, his dad would have to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t always protect him. But this wasn’t the time or place to get into that.
What would have happened if Cy had listened to his dad when they were trapped behind the roadblock? He was trying to be patient and see things from his father’s perspective, but it was hard sometimes and often felt like he was being treated like he was still just a kid. His dad had always been a little overprotective, and given their current circumstances, that certainly wasn’t going to change.
Nobody said a word as they made their way back to the motel. Vince, John, and Tom, with Ryan on his lap, were all in the back seat while Reese and Buster remained in the front with Cy. He glanced in the rearview mirror occasionally and checked on his dad. They all had their heads back on the seat and their eyes closed. It had been a long night on top of an already long day. Cy wondered if they would work on any of the projects tomorrow or if everyone would lay low after all this and rest. It was fine with him if they had a down day, but he knew his dad too well and doubted that would actually happen.
The other reason he kept checking the rearview mirror was that he half expected to see headlights any second now. His dad and John filled them in on what they had done to the looters’ vehicles, but they didn’t disable them all, and the thought of being chased bothered him. If he was sure of anything, it was that the looters were relentless and would seek revenge. His dad and John had dealt the looters a big blow tonight, but the fight was far from over.
Chapter Thirteen
Vince jumped as he woke up, startled by the movement of the car as Cy swerved to avoid a wreck on the road. He must have dozed off for a minute or two. He rubbed at his eyes while struggling to find his bearings and figure out where exactly they were. Then he spotted the overpass up ahead and realized that they were almost back in Cloverdale.
He looked over at John, who was awake but looked like he was in a daze.
“Have you tried the radio?” Vince asked him.
“Yeah, I got a hold of Bill. He’s making a way through the roadblock for us with the loader.”
Vince looked at the others in the car. Ryan was still sleeping, and Tom didn’t appear far behind. His arm looked bad, and now that Vince was close enough to see better, he noticed that Tom had lost more blood than he previously thought. Not only was his shirt soaked, but his pants were as well.
Vince thought about telling Cy to drive faster, but he didn’t want to push their luck and risk crashing into something. Maybe he should have insisted that Tom stay behind at the car with Cy and Reese, but he doubted he would have listened; exerting himself by running through the ditches while carrying Ryan certainly hadn’t helped his situation and was probably responsible for the further blood loss.
Within a matter of minutes, they were passing through the roadblock. Vince saw Bill behind the wheel of the loader, which had one of the roadblock cars on its forks. As soon as they passed, Bill went about replacing the car and closing off the entrance.
When Cy pulled into the motel parking lot, everyone was waiting out front and swarmed the car as it came to a stop. Beverly was first at the rear passenger door. She yanked it open and took Ryan from Tom’s arms. The boy barely woke up and clung to Beverly as she helped her husband out of the car.
“Tom! Your arm. What happened?” She burst into tears.
“Calm down, calm down. I’ll be all right. I just need to lie down.” Tom tried his best to put her at ease, but it wasn’t working.
“Don’t lie down,” Reese said. “Whatever you do. I need you sitting upright in a chair. I just want to grab a few things, and I’ll be over. We need to get that bullet out now.” She didn’t waste any time and ran to her room to collect what she needed.
Fred and Mary took over for Beverly and helped Tom into his room. Reese was right behind them, carrying a basket loaded with stuff from the pharmacy.
“Want to help me out?” she called to Cy as she ran by with Buster chasing behind. “I’m going to need someone to hold a light.”
“Coming,” Cy answered.
As Vince and John stretched their legs, Bill parked the loader alongside the curb and shut it down.
“You think we’ll see them anytime soon?” John looked toward the interstate.
Vince knew he was referring to the looters. “I sure hope not, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
He didn’t plan on taking any chances, either.
“Hey, Bill, can you hang in there and stay on watch for a while?” Vince asked as he approached them.
“I’m on till six anyway,” he replied.
Vince and John gave Bill a quick rundown of their adventures as they sorted through the newly acquired weapons in the trunk. The pistols were a 9mm, a .45, and a .38 revolver. They were all fully loaded except for the .38, which was missing one round—the one in Tom’s arm. Vince was glad to see that he had been shot by the smaller-caliber pistol and shuddered to think what the .45 or the 9mm would have done at that range.
They also picked up two new rifles: an open-sight 30-30 lever-action and a .22 rifle that was also open-sighted. None of the guns were that impressive, nor were they that well-maintained. Still, it was good to add to their stockpile and it was better than nothing, but there was no extra ammo for them, so in the end, they weren’t really a big help.
There was nothing else of note in the car, mostly trash and empty beer cans, but Vince did find a bottle of whiskey under an old tire in the trunk.
“Maybe you ought to take that into Tom,” John said. “I imagine he might need it.”
“Yeah, it might help a little, but more as a token. I’m sure Reese will give him something for the pain. At least I hope.” No sooner had Vince spoken the words than they heard a muffled yell from Tom’s room.
John frowned. “Too late I guess.”
Vince felt bad for the man, but there was nothing he could do to help. As it was, there were probably too many people standing around and watching Reese work. The poor girl was under enough pressure already, and she didn’t need another pair of eyes watching over her shoulder.
John excused himself, and Vince watched as he retreated quietly to his room and closed the door. He couldn’t help but worry about his friend. The guard John had taken out back at the looters’ farm was young, and the look on John’s face when he realized how young spoke volumes. The kid was probably only a few years younger than John’s son. The guy had been through enough already. As if losing his family wasn’t enough, he would now have that on his conscience.
Vince wanted nothing more than to go to his and Mary’s room and lie down, but he felt obligated to wait and at least find out if Reese had removed the bullet. Even though Tom had brought this on himself by dropping the magazine, Vince couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for what happened. Everything had worked out for the best, but things could have gone very differently. Thinking about some
of the other possible outcomes made him cringe.
He found a spot on the hood of the Lincoln and hoisted himself up. As he sat there, he thought about everything they had been through in the last twenty-four hours. It barely seemed possible, like not enough time had passed for everything to have happened. In his current state of exhaustion, the past day’s events felt more like a bad dream than reality.
The bottle of whiskey was too much to resist, and he reasoned that he’d earned a shot at least. Besides, it might help ease the constant pain in his lower back. He was far too old to be running around the woods at night.
As it went down, the whiskey burned his throat, and he felt the warmth wash over him like a blanket. He took one more sip before putting the cap back on and setting the bottle down on the hood. He glanced back at Bill and thought about offering him some, but he decided against it. A few sips of whiskey would be just enough to make someone sleepy, and that wouldn’t be much help when Bill was sitting alone in the truck while on watch.
Finally, the others started to emerge from Tom’s room. One by one, they filed out. Fred paused and gave Vince a nod, indicating that everything had gone all right.
“I’ll be out in a bit to relieve you,” Fred called out to Bill. Vince checked his watch. It was after five in the morning, and the eastern horizon was beginning to show signs of a rising sun. Another hot day lay ahead, although he doubted much would get done. They all needed rest. Even those who had stayed behind probably hadn’t slept much.
Reese was the last one out of the room. Cy held the door and closed it behind her. She was wiping blood off her hands with a wet rag and looked tired enough to pass out on the spot.
“Well, what do you think?” Vince asked.
She let out a deep breath. “I think he’ll be all right. It’s going to take a while to heal, but the bullet is out. I’ve done all I can to make him comfortable.”
