by Hunt, Jack
As they continued, she mulled it over.
“I’m not sure about weeks.”
“Right,” he said. “I forgot.”
Her bullshit meter was flashing red and yet her heart was telling her different.
He seemed to have an answer for everything, whether it made logical sense was neither here nor there. Most, if not all matters of spirituality were up for debate but something about his talks in the evenings, his charm, it was magnetic. She could see how people might be attracted to his persona and the ranch. It was like a calm ocean in a storm, an oasis in a barren place.
Still, she wasn’t a fool and understood Alex’s reservations.
When they made it to the barn, he pulled back the large red door and beckoned her inside. As soon as she entered, she smiled and let out a chuckle. “What beautiful horses.”
“Equine-assisted therapy. Have you heard of it?”
“Experiential therapy that involves interactions between patients and horses. Yes.”
“Before the bombings, when I was running the retreat, it was something Angelica wanted to include.”
“Angelica?”
“My previous wife. She died many years ago along with my son.”
“You never told me about that.”
“Like I said, hopefully over the coming days I can share some of my life with you. Anyway, we created the barn and brought in some of the finest horses in America as well as a trainer. It became a staple part of our retreats.” He walked over to one of the stalls which held a beautiful black horse. “Years of trauma, disorders, addiction, compulsions and grief, among other things, can be treated with these magnificent animals.” He brought her hand up and placed it on the horse. “Every animal has an energy. Can you feel it?”
She smiled.
He gave her a guided tour and led her up into the second level where all the stacks of hay were. “See. Nothing. Just horses and hay. Unfortunately to protect the horses we have limited the number of people who can come over. And of course when you place limitations on things, people question. All it takes is a few people like Meadow to stain the waters of the mind and you have people thinking we are up to no good. Come, take a seat,” he said, perching on a stack of hay. Sophie sat down. “Just as animals have energy so do humans,” he said turning toward her. “Close your eyes.”
Reluctant but feeling foolish for having believed Alex, she closed them. He took her hands and placed them between his. “Do you feel that warmth?” he said.
She nodded as he released her hands. “Energy is just like water, it flows and can get stuck. When this happens it causes all manner of problems. But there are ways to unblock it. Do you trust me, Sophie?”
She swallowed hard. “Maybe we should head back.”
He clasped her hand. “Letting go of your fears is the first step to liberation. Close your eyes.” Frustrated but not wanting to be rude, she complied. That’s when she felt his hands run up her leg, then felt his lips touch hers.
Instantly she lashed out, slapping him and rising to her feet. “What the hell are you doing? How dare you.”
He looked back at her with a smile, rubbing the side of his cheek.
“I think I should leave,” she said.
“And go where?”
“Alex was right. We should…”
A siren blared. It was muted, hard to pinpoint.
She peered over the edge. It was coming from below the barn.
“That’s coming from…” As she turned and pointed, she felt a hard strike to the side of her head. On the floor, she groaned as Abner loomed over her with a pitchfork in hand.
28
The fight for survival began the second they dragged him into the room.
Alex knew that once he was pinned down, he’d be injected and any hope of getting out would be lost. Under a cocktail of chemicals his mind would turn to mush just like Meadow, just like the rest of those poor bastards locked away.
As they dragged him through the maze of corridors, his mind was firing, coming up with a way to escape. Both of them were armed. It was beyond risky. However, he’d made up his mind. He would rather die than be imprisoned. As soon as he entered the room he began to struggle and just as he expected they resisted, locked hard onto his arms, giving him the exact leverage he needed for what came next.
Forcing him across the room, Alex shoved back, slamming them into the wall. Again they dragged him forward but this time he used the opposite wall to his advantage.
With their arms securely locked around his, he bounced up using them as leverage and pushed off from the wall with his feet, causing them to fall back, knocking the wind out of them and releasing their grip. In an instant, Alex reached across and yanked a knife out of one guy’s sheath and stabbed him in the throat.
It all happened in a flash.
Before his buddy could react, Alex was on him fighting for control of the rifle. The guy below held on to the barrel and buttstock, pushing up as Alex forced his weight down until he got under his chin. The man’s eyes bulged as Alex used brute force to crush his windpipe.
His face went red.
Shock.
Pain.
C’mon. C’mon.
Then it happened.
The man released his grip on the rifle, Alex stood and fired two rounds, one into each of them. He scooped up additional magazines from both and exited. Cradling the AR-15, he swiftly moved down the corridor and unleashed a flurry of rounds at anyone he saw.
Within minutes the siren wailed; lights flashed red and the war began.
Pain shot through Sophie’s skull but the blow hadn’t knocked her unconscious. Still looming over her, Abner sounded garbled. Something about Alex. Something about Meadow. They’re as good as dead. That she heard clearly. “And you’re joining them.”
“The fuck I am!” she muttered under her breath. Still having the wherewithal to fight back, and with him not expecting it, she swept his legs and took his feet out from beneath him. He landed hard as she clawed at a stack of hay to get up.
Abner cried out in anger, a barrage of cursing.
Sophie stumbled forward, away, trying to reach the ladder but she didn’t make it.
Abner tackled her from behind, slamming her shoulder into the floor then grasping a clump of her hair. She screamed in pain. He dragged her across the floor as if he was about to throw her off the second level. As he lifted his foot to move forward one more time, she grasped the other and pulled it out, almost sending him over the edge.
Scrambling up, she went for the ladder but he was too fast.
This time he slammed into her, driving her head into a pile of hay where he collapsed on top. Abner flipped her over and she swiped at his face with her nails, enraging him. He fought back, with a jab to the face then wrapped his hands around her neck and began to squeeze.
Through gritted teeth he said, “You bitch!”
She grasped his wrists, trying to pry them loose, but he was too strong.
Using any means of defense she could, she plowed a fist into his side but that only angered him more. He stared at her consumed with a desire to kill. Darkness slowly crept in at her peripherals. Any second now she would lose consciousness. With him stalling her, he’d forgotten one thing. Using every ounce of strength she had, she drove her knee into his nutsack and his eyes widened, the shock hit him like a lightning bolt as she did it again followed by a hard crack to the ribs. Abner rolled off, clutching his privates and groaning in agony.
Breathing hard and gasping for air, Sophie struggled to rise to her feet.
She managed to get one knee up but before she could lift the second, Abner latched on to her ankle, tugging her back. She let out a cry and fell forward, her knee driving into the floor, but instead of writhing in pain, she rolled and smashed her one free foot into his face. In pain, seething and cursing at her, the second time she tried to kick him, he slapped her foot out of the way and began tugging her toward him.
He was like a rabid d
og that wouldn’t let go.
There was no way in hell she would let him get the advantage again.
With him straddling her legs, she thrust her fingers at his eyes, screaming, releasing her fury as the sirens continued to wail. It was pure chaos. Abner kept his head low but that was his mistake, as he clawed his way over her, she thrust her knee up under his chin. It must have caused him to bite his tongue as he howled, revealing a mouth full of blood. A bulbous chunk of bloodied flesh hung from his mouth.
But she didn’t stop there.
Sophie threw a right hook catching him under the jaw, then a jab to the side of his face until he rolled off moaning in pain. She didn’t catch what he said as she got up and staggered toward the pitchfork. Realizing what she was about to do, Abner was now the one trying to escape.
She scooped up the heavy fork and wailed as she ran at him full force.
Abner turned; his eyes widened and his hands went up but it was too late.
She thrust into his gut, pinning him against the wall of the barn. Sophie stared at him as blood streamed out of his lips and off his chin.
29
The ceasefire was sudden. One moment they were engaged, the next it was quiet. Through darkened trees, Elisha saw them drag Garcia’s limp body into an open area under the glow of the sedans’ headlights. They dumped him on his face and a man placed a foot on Garcia’s back, holding a rifle to his head.
“Lay your weapons down and come out or I’ll execute him right now.”
Elisha scanned the terrain, doing a quick headcount.
There were four remaining or at least that’s all she could see.
The firefight had been brutal, had it not been for the cover of trees, she was sure they would have died. The group could have charged them, except they couldn’t be sure how many they were up against, at least that’s what Liam said. Movement was key, shifting from one position to the next. Under the canopy of darkness it was hard to tell where anyone was, which provided an advantage but also made it hard to tell who was who.
There was a slim possibility they could take out the remaining opposition but chances were if they opened fire, Garcia would be shot and right now he was the one person that had kept them alive.
Liam darted over to her, staying low, twigs crunching beneath his boots.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“If we stay they’ll kill us.”
“And if we leave they’ll kill him,” she replied.
“He took that risk coming in. We all did.”
“So we engage,” she shot back.
A bald guy with lots of tattoos on his head, wearing baggy pants and a dark T-shirt, came into view, though partially hidden by the trees. A rifle was in his hand, and he was wearing a bulletproof vest similar to Garcia’s.
“I know there are only two of you out there.”
“Well there goes our advantage,” Liam muttered.
Garcia looked up and the man above him forced his head down.
“C’mon now. He’s not worth it,” Baldy shouted.
“Shoot him!” Garcia cried out. The one above him reacted by striking him in the face with the barrel of his gun.
Elisha looked at Liam. He shook his head.
She remembered what Garcia said and yet the thought of turning tail and getting out of there seemed wrong, especially after he’d risked his life for them at the tavern. And yet she knew the second they engaged, Garcia would be killed.
“What if I take out the one closest to him? Maybe it would give him a fighting chance, then we unleash on the others and hope to God they focus on us not him,” she said.
Liam nodded. “Let me do it. You focus on the other guy off to his right.”
Her heart was hammering in her chest as she took up position and waited for the thumbs-up.
“Come on out and he’ll live.”
Liam glanced over as he raised three fingers. He dropped one, then the second and was about to drop the last to indicate to engage when someone beat them to the punch.
A single round erupted, except it didn’t strike the one looming over Garcia but the bald guy. His head jerked and his body collapsed to one side, alerting them to a shooter nearer the sedans.
A few seconds of surprise.
A glance back at Garcia.
And that was their moment.
Liam squeezed off the round and took out the one above Garcia while Elisha neutralized her target.
The fourth had the good sense to drop his gun and fall to his knees, thinking that would save his life. It didn’t. Garcia rose up behind him, rifle in hand, and ended him execution-style from behind.
When the dust settled, and they were certain there were no more, they made their way into the clearing to join Garcia.
The ground was covered in bodies and brass casings. It was a massacre.
As she was wrapping her arm around Garcia, two men stepped out of the shadows.
“Fischer?” Garcia said.
The other looked like a gang member.
All of them reacted by raising their guns but Fischer got in front of the man.
“He’s okay. He’s not with them.”
“Those tattoos would say different,” Garcia said. “Who are you?”
The man shrugged a rifle over his shoulder. “The name’s Leo Henriquez. I used to be with them. Not anymore.”
“How did you find us?”
“We saw the flare and then the fire from across the lake,” Ken said motioning to the cabin which was a smoldering charred mess. Fortunately the flames had only destroyed two sides of the home. Elisha later learned it was because of the way his grandfather had built the cabin. The roof was made of tin, and behind all that wood siding were sheets of steel.
“Yeah, how can I be sure?” Garcia asked, still not taking his finger off the trigger.
Leo motioned to Baldy. “He’s dead, isn’t that proof?”
“He’s telling the truth,” Ken added.
Garcia lowered his rifle and the man extended a hand.
“Well if this isn’t strange,” Garcia said, shaking it.
Two rival gangs, both working together.
“There’s a first for everything, right?” Leo said.
“Maybe.”
30
Alex struggled to carry Meadow as he emerged from the underground to the distant sound of chopping. What was that? His mind was still reeling from what he’d done, his eyes transfixed in a state of shock. He’d lost count of how many he’d killed down there, six, nine, twelve, maybe more, most hadn’t seen him until it was too late. He wasn’t sure what scared him more, his lack of hesitation or lack of remorse.
He stumbled out of the stall and collapsed, exhausted, his knees driving into the dirt, his left arm bloodied and limp from a round. Meadow rolled out of his arms, drugged, still hazy. He took a second to catch his breath, feel the dirt beneath his nails before his senses went on high alert expecting trouble.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he reassured Meadow in a soft voice. “I’ll get you out.”
At the whoosh of helicopter blades he raised his eyes toward the nearest doors, toward the night sky between.
Black Hawks?
“Alex?”
Sophie.
His eyes shifted to the right then up to the floor above at the sight of movement. Sophie hurried to climb down a ladder, her hands gloved in blood. She raced forward, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight.
He winced, pain coursing through him.
She pulled back his bloodied shirt and saw the wound.
“You’re…”
“Yeah, look, just give me a hand taking her out.”
With a jerk of the head toward the stall he said, “There are others.”
She got up to go over. “No. No. Sophie.”
He wanted to save her the gruesome sight. “Where is he? Abner.”
“Dead.” She glanced at her hands that were trembling, then raised her eyes.
Su
ddenly, at the far end of the barn, one of Abner’s followers burst in. They locked eyes for but a second before Alex reacted. Adrenaline still surging through him, he raised his handgun and took out the threat with two squeezes of the trigger.
The man buckled, falling forward.
Sophie rushed to collect his rifle.
“Come on,” Alex said, as he struggled to lift Meadow over his good shoulder. He ground his teeth and dug down deep into the grit formed from years of being thrown into deadly waters, wild oceans that had hardened him to adversity.
Carrying Meadow out of the barn, it was hard to believe what they were seeing. Three Black Hawks in the sky zipped overhead sending down a wash of air that kicked up dirt. Turning their eyes to the mansion in the distance, they observed women and men emerging, rifles in hand, lifting them to the sky. Some taking potshots. Others looked on bewildered, some fanning out, many running for the hills.
Alex squinted as the thump of helicopter blades got louder and the air became thick with dust. More followers caught their attention as they sprinted their way. Alex dropped and used his body to cover Meadow as he engaged. After emptying a magazine, he palmed in another and lifted it again. One squeeze of the trigger and a guy went down as two more raced for the cover of trees. One even dropped his rifle, panic getting the better of him.
These weren’t soldiers, militia or professionals.
They were ordinary folk deceived by a man dangling salvation like a carrot.
Across the lake gunfire echoed loudly.
Alex moved briskly along a dirt path leading around the lake. Several pickup trucks and motorcycles swerved away from the mansion trying to escape the repercussion of government.
Loyalty vanished in the face of prison or death.
For others, this was it, the battle that no doubt Abner had said would one day come, a face-off between light and darkness, good and evil, freedom and captivity.
Chaos erupted as followers opened up with automatic rifles and the Black Hawks circling overhead drew fire only to have door gunners push them back, tearing up the dirt before them. The closer they got to the mansion, the louder the bark of a machine gun became. Bodies dropped; rifles fell out of hands only to be scooped up by another follower. A dirt bike raced toward them, its muffler coughing smoke into the sky. The two passengers, a man, and a woman, looked at them for but a second before tearing up the hill and buzzing into the woods.
