He looks up again, tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Felix,” he says. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. If I was awake, I might have been able to stop them or scare them off at least. We might have still been here when you got back.”
Felix reaches out and squeezes his shoulder once again. “Don’t punish yourself,” he says. “You have no way of knowing what might have happened if you tried to stop them.”
More tears leak from Rob’s eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “But I also know what wouldn’t have happened.” He pauses, and I can practically hear Felix’s heart thump against his chest in the silence that ensues. “We didn’t know where was safe. Most of the friend's mom could think to reach out to were either back in town or lived too far away. She was afraid of town ever since dad left and didn’t come back. There was only one place she thought might be safe.”
“Pete Sawyer’s ranch...” Felix says, voice barely above a whisper. Rob nods his affirmation. Felix stands, hands balled into fists at his sides. He shares a look with both Morgan and Leon, anger flashing dangerously in his eyes. After a deep breath, he returns his attention back to Rob. “Tell me everything.”
He does. He tells of them arriving at the ranch early that next morning, exhausted and desperate. But where they had hoped to find safety they instead found captivity. Pete Sawyer, long-time friend, pounced on what must have been a dream come true for him. Christina had always assumed it a joke when Pete would claim her biggest mistake was choosing Frank over himself. She assumed wrong. After years of lusting after her there she was, completely at his mercy, no law or husband to protect her.
He would keep them alive, he promised. But for a price. The same terrible price countless women have been forced to pay since the dawn of time—one which a mother like Christina would willingly pay to ensure the life of her child. And though Rob was spared, life under the Sawyer’s regime wasn’t easy. Used as free labor, all of his duties were supervised to prevent him from escaping the ranch. Still, he tried, especially in the beginning. Bruises, scars, seven tiny cigarette burns in the shape of a smiley face stand proof to the punishments he received in doing so. It wasn’t until Pete threatened to punish his mother in his stead that the attempts stopped.
“I fantasized about attacking Pete a thousand times,” he says. “Beating him with a shovel or stealing a gun from one of his men. But I knew the second I tried anything like that I would be killed. Even then, I almost tried. The only thing that stopped me was thinking about how it would break mom. I hated what that prick was doing to her...but I knew it would hurt her a thousand times more to see me killed. So I kept going, for her. But it was without any real hope either of us would survive much longer.”
He wipes the tears from his eyes, finally able to meet Felix’s again. “And then there you were. I could see you from the house. I tried to break for the door, tried to yell out, but they knocked me out before I got close. When I woke up my head was throbbing. Pete was in a rage, ranting, warning me not to do anything stupid. But it didn’t matter what he threatened me with, I knew the truth. I knew you made it home.”
It’s Felix who has to wipe the tears from his eyes this time. “I gave up,” Felix admits, his words full of remorse. “I stopped searching. We checked so many places, talked to so many people. And all this time you were...” He stops abruptly, a guilt-ridden sob stuck in his chest. “I’m sorry, Robbie. I never should have gave up on you.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “Knowing you were alive is what kept me going. All this time I was waiting for the right moment to escape. Tonight it finally happened. The ranch has been fighting off attacks the past couple weeks, some gang based out of Ignacio. They’ve been doing it gradually, stealing here and there, trading gunfire back and forth with Pete and his crew. They attacked again earlier, must have been twenty men at least. It was my chance. He couldn’t afford to keep someone on me, he had lost two men already that week. I tried to get mom out. He had her locked in his bedroom with one of his men. The moment I peeked my head through the window he saw me, would have blown my head clean off if mom didn’t knock the gun sideways. She screamed for me to run, so I did. Didn’t stop until I made it home. I knew I had to find you, knew you were the only one who could get her out of there.”
Felix hugs his cousin close, bringing his forehead to his. “Don’t worry, Robbie,” he says, rage building behind his words. “I’ll bring her home.”
Chapter 19: (Morgan)
A storm rages around me. Gone is the languid snowfall that kept us company while we built snowmen, and laughed around the dining table, and lost ourselves in a moment of normalcy. I should have known it wouldn’t last—that the calm would give way to the cold winds and fierce flurries we now move through. Snow falls thick and fast, hiding the surrounding landscape behind a swirling white veil. My vision is restricted to feet in front of me, shapes apparating suddenly into being before being swallowed back up again. I have no clue where we are, how far we’ve come. All I can do is keep my eyes on the two figures ahead of me and trust that Felix can navigate the storm.
He sets a furious pace, fueled by the same fire that burns through my veins. It sparked the moment I laid eyes on Rob, soaked and freezing, barely able to stand. Throughout his tale, I felt it grow and spread, appalled at what he described. I can still see the scars, the bruises. I can see the twisted smiley face burned onto his forearm and the urge to kill overwhelms me. And that’s not even the worst of it.
“Mi hijo, que bueno verte!”
I hear the words as clearly as if she were here beside me. Rarely did Christina Chavez call me by my name. No. It was always mi hijo. My son. And she welcomed me into her home as such, treating me as she would one of her own. It was within her walls that I learned you don’t have to be blood to be family. Mi otra madre. My other mother. I remember the smile she wore when I first gave her that title, the way her laugh filled the room with warmth, with love. That’s the image I always remember of her: smiling, happy. But it’s not the image that plagues me now. I see tears, pain, misery. I see the kind-hearted woman I love like my own flesh and blood broken and suffering at the hands of someone she thought a friend.
I shake the image away. I can’t afford to let my rage run away with itself. Not until she is safe. To distract myself, I recount the plan we came up with based on what Rob told us of the ranch's layout and defenses. It’s rough at best. Truth is, it’s tough to know what to expect, especially considering the place was under attack when Rob escaped. But it’s not as if we have a choice in the matter. Leaving Christina behind is not an option. I only hope the storm lasts. It’s the biggest advantage we have.
“How much farther?” It’s the first words she’s spoken since we left, providing me with a much more thorough distraction than our shaky plan.
“You promised me. Are you a liar?” The question twisted my heart, knowing she was referring to the promise I made on Elroy’s farm so many months ago—that I would not stop her from joining me on occasions such as this—that I would leave that decision up to her. The moment I looked into her eyes I knew there was no persuading her. Her mind was set. Determined. Fighting would accomplish nothing but waste precious time. So I relented and kept the promise I made. But that doesn’t stop the fear that rises as I see her beside me.
“Not far,” I say. “At this pace, we should be there soon.”
Felix comes to a halt shortly after, the outline of the Baptist Church visible through the storm behind him. Leon and Emily join us a moment later. My sister’s presence worries me as much as Lauren’s. I’d have kept both of them from this if I could. But as headstrong as Lauren is, it’s nothing compared to Emily. Over two decades of butting heads with her has taught me that. “You’re not the boss of me. I can come if I want to!” For a moment the fierce young woman before me vanishes, replaced by the girl she once was. How strange to realize they are one and the same—that the heart which beat in that little girl, beats inside her still. Where did the time go?
/> “Ranch is just over a mile out,” Richard says. “Remember, just as we discussed...” The old military veteran takes charge, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Unlike Lauren and Emily, his decision to join us was completely unexpected. I was sure he’d be against the idea—that he would point out the obvious gaps and flaws in our plan, and tell us that it was too dangerous—that it would be foolish for us to risk our lives with so much unknown to us. But the caution was never preached. Instead, he laced up his boots, hugged his daughters, and was the first to follow Felix into the storm. Knowing what he can do, his presence is a welcome one. Still, I can’t help but wonder what could have possibly driven him out of the warmth and safety of the house. Was it really all about helping us save a woman he doesn’t even know? Somehow, I doubt it.
We set off again, our pace slower, more careful than the mad rush we used to get here. Remaining vigilant however proves difficult. While the storm remains our biggest advantage it’s not without its own faults. An army could be hidden in the mist and falling snow, and we’d have no way of knowing until we were practically on top of them. Factor in the known gang roaming the area, and it’s all I can do to keep my calm. As we move I put all my focus into the sounds around me, listening for anything that might alert us to the presence of others. None come. Howling wind and treading snow are the beat to which we march.
“This is it,” Felix says. Behind him, Richard sets to work cutting through the barbed wire with a pair of bolt cutters. Felix points past the fence as if he can see more than a dozen feet beyond it. “House should be on the other side of the property. Stay alert, especially around the outbuildings. If there are any lookouts, that’s where they will be.”
The adrenaline mounts as we enter the snowy field, numbing my worries, my fear. There’s no room for either right now. We stick close to the fence line as we move, the wooden posts and snow accumulating along the base offering at least an illusion of cover if need be. We reach the corner of the field without incident, Richard cutting through the strips of barbed wire as he did earlier. Our escape route if things go south.
We leave the field and enter the heart of the ranch. Richard leads us, hand signals serving as words. Here the snow has been disturbed, the tread of dozens of feet leaving trails criss-crossing over one another in every direction. Suddenly, Richard holds up his fist to halt our progress and goes to a knee. We mimic his actions. Straining my eyes, I see what has his attention, the shape of a small outbuilding just visible ahead of us. After a minute he stands, and we set our course on the building. There are no windows and only one door which sits ajar, a smear of blood coating the metal handle. Richard signals his plan and we situate ourselves accordingly. He holds up three fingers. Two. One.
I kick in the door and flatten myself against the wall. No shot follows. Felix lies on his stomach, the flashlight attached to his rifle sweeping through the dark interior. He gains his feet.
“Two bodies,” he says grimly. We don’t investigate further. As we move toward the house more bodies turn up. A man with a bullet through his forehead. Another on his back, arms and legs splayed as if struck down while making snow angels. There are women too, two of whom appeared to be making an escape, their bodies lying just short of the fence. Splatters of blood stand out vividly against the snow, turning into pools the closer we get to the house. The battle seems to have reached its peak in the shadow of a huge barn. There’s over a dozen bodies, each death more unpleasant than the one beside it. In the barn itself, more bodies are found, one vastly different than any we’ve seen today: it’s still alive.
“What happened?” Richard asks, taking a knee. The man isn’t long for this world, blood soaking his shirt and pooling into his lap. He’ll soon bleed out. It’s a miracle he hasn’t already.
“The bill came,” he says shakily. I don’t understand, but Richard nods his head solemnly. “It always does in the end,” he tells him. I don’t see Richard draw the blade but I hear it find its mark. A gasp of pain. His fist clawing at the ground. And then he goes still, the light leaving his eyes.
We scout the house from here, scopes trained on the darkened windows for any movement within. Felix is restless. I can feel the nervous energy coming off him as the minutes pass, the struggle to remain patient becoming increasingly more difficult. I relate only too well, that same struggle waging war inside me. My body yearns for action but my head reminds me to stay calm, to slow down. My head wins. This close to our goal, we can’t let our emotions outweigh logic.
After ten minutes without movement, we make our move. I exit first with Felix, striking for the left side of the house. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as we move across the open ground, eyes drawn to the shadows beyond the windows, convinced I’m about to see a muzzle flash, hear the sound of approaching death. But no shot comes. We make it to the house unharmed. Leon comes next with Emily, followed closely by Richard and Lauren.
“Just as we discussed,” Richard whispers. “Stay low and—” His words are cut short by a scream of pure agony from within the house.
“What the hell is that?” Leon whispers. The sound reaches us again, and I feel a chill creep down my spine no storm could bring.
“Doesn’t matter,” Felix says, paler than he was only a minute before. “Stick to the plan.”
We proceed toward the front of the house, keeping as close to the wall as possible to minimize our visibility from inside. Three windows dot this side of the house, each of which Richard checks through the reflection of a small mirror. The first two prove empty, belonging to a bedroom and bathroom respectively. Before we’ve even reached it, I know the third will be a different story. The sound of raised voices grows louder the closer we approach, punctured once more by that pain riddled scream. Richard uses the mirror to scout inside. After a minute he holds up eight fingers, one for each of the people he’s counted. He passes the mirror to Felix who studies its reflection, eyes narrowed in an almost manic intensity. Finally, he lets the mirror drop, the grimness of his face not encouraging.
“They have some poor bastard tied up in there,” Richard whispers. We’ve retreated to the first window we cleared so as not to be overheard. “I have no idea what their end game is, but I saw the tools they were using...if they’re trying to coerce him somehow, he’ll break sooner than later.”
“And Christina?” I ask, eyes only for Felix.
“Didn’t spot her,” he says. “Still, she could be somewhere else. I mean, look at the size of this place.” I don’t miss the worry in his voice. He’s trying to convince himself more than us.
“What about Mr. Sawyer? Connor?” Leon asks.
A dark look passes Felix’s face. “They’re leading the interrogation,” he says. “They’re in their element.”
“Which makes this the perfect time to strike,” Richard says. “They’re never going to be more vulnerable than they are right now.” He’s right. The longer we wait, the more time they have to pull themselves together. Better to catch them with their pants down.
“What’s the plan?”
The screams ring loud in this enclosed space. It echoes off the walls, the floors, the sound of anguish making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Even worse are the sobs, the pleading. But if there was ever mercy in the hearts of his tormentors, it has long since passed.
“Please! I’m begging you...no more.” A scream of pure misery adds to the hatred boiling inside me.
“Beg those you killed for forgiveness.” Cold wrath coats Mr. Sawyer’s words. “They give me the word to stop, and I will. Until then...” Another twisted scream, soon followed by another, and another still. I can all but hear the hope leave his body, each act of violence stripping away his humanity a little more each time.
Mean laughter reaches my ears, closely followed by the portentous voice I remember from my school days: one that, even back then, seemed to find joy at the exploitation of others. Connor Sawyer always did have a certain cruel vanity about him. He can only have gr
own worse in the wake of what’s happened. The collapse has had the unique ability to turn good men bad, and bad men into monsters. The sudden image of a broken father and son limping away in the distance fills my mind, their faces haunted, the weeks that have passed doing nothing to mute their pleading which still echoes in my mind. It’s a truth I know only too well.
The man murmurs something I can’t quite make out. A squeal of pain immediately follows.
“Speak up!” Connor says. “I can’t hear you over your whimpering!”
“Just kill me!” the man yells. “I’ve told you everything...just finish it.” No hope remains in the man’s voice. He knows his end has come. Perhaps he’s known from the moment he was captured. Perhaps even earlier. Perhaps he knew from the moment his ears were filled with the sound of gunfire, and the bodies of his friends fell around him, their life’s blood weeping from open wounds as they breathed their last, and he could do nothing but push forward, returning fire as if by killing those responsible for their deaths he could somehow avenge them, honor them, as if they hadn’t already left this ugly world behind. Then again, perhaps the fight has simply been beaten out of him. Perhaps all he wants now is to die with what dignity he has left.
Connor laughs, relishing his victim’s pleading. “Kill you?” Connor asks as if the notion were completely ridiculous. “Why on earth would we kill you? You’re far too much fun to let die! Besides, what if more of your friends decide to come looking for you? We’ll need you to show them what gracious hosts we are. Don’t you agree?” Another scream sounds after the man refuses to answer. “I asked you a question!”
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