“We have overstayed our more-than-generous welcome. It is time for us to leave.”
“Please stay, I insist.” He smiled but only with his mouth, not his eyes.
“I do not feel safe here, Abraham,” Wolfe parried.
“I cannot imagine why not, Jim. Have we not been welcoming enough? Katherine!” The woman cowered before reluctantly walking to Abraham. He took the baby from her arms, and one of the others led her away.
No words were spoken through any of it.
Abraham waved a hand and the line of men parted. “You can go.”
“I would like to think I do not need your permission. I thought we were all free here.” Wolfe did not know why he had to make that last dig, but he was spoiling for a fight. He had realized he had a great dislike for tyrants, those who held another’s life in their hands to do with as they wished.
Even snuff it out at a whim.
“You are free to go. Please excuse my poor choice of words.” Abraham crossed his arms and scowled.
“What is going to happen to Miss Katherine?”
“Nothing if you stay,” Abraham countered.
“You see,” Wolfe shook his head and moved his hand to the butt of his rifle, “that does not work for me. Using a human being as a pawn in your game makes you no better than those who destroyed this country.”
“It is none of your concern. It is our business. We are not going to fight you, Mister Wolfe. I expect you do not start fights, but you end them. There shall be none for you to end. Please leave us in peace.”
Wolfe stepped aside as Walton started pushing the cart. He smiled and nodded. “Nice meeting you boys. Y’all be cool now.” He started to whistle on his way toward the road.
“Take your first right past the church. Hinson will take you through the city. Be careful since there are still a few areas that might be a little rough,” Abraham advised.
“Obliged,” Wolfe told him as he walked through the line of bodies, turning backward to keep Abraham in front of him. Jennifer had a hard time pushing Buddy, but eventually she managed, and the big dog gave up on trying to return to the compound.
Wolfe moved his rifle to the front, making sure there was a round in the chamber before he left Abraham’s sight. Together, the three people hurried back toward the Sacred Survivors’ Church.
They took a right as advised and jogged for a mile before stopping when Jennifer started to stagger. She apologized profusely, but Wolfe would have none of it. They hid in the backyard of an abandoned house, making themselves at home with a good meal cooked over a fire built from the fallen boards of stairs to the porch.
Wolfe took the first watch. Jennifer and Walton fell fast asleep. Wolfe waited until it was pitch-black before removing his goggles to see unhindered.
He circled the house, stopping when he heard a noise from the direction they had come. Four men with clubs were walking slowly down the street.
Chapter Twenty-One
Wolfe scowled. He moved through the darkness like a shadow within shadows. When he was behind the men, he walked into the middle of the street. “Can I help you?”
They crouched as they scattered, looking in his general direction.
“I expect you are looking for me. Well, you found me. Now what?”
One, braver than the others, stood and walked toward Wolfe. With a soundless sidestep, he moved away from the direction the man was heading.
“You know why we are here,” the man started, cocking his head to better hear the answer. He raised his club while he inched forward. When he was within arm’s length, Wolfe seized the club and ripped it away from the man, turning it on its former owner. The club impacted his head and he went down.
Wolfe tossed the club on the pavement.
“Maybe you can tell me why you are here. And use small words. I am just a country boy at heart.” Wolfe moved quickly to the side. Two of the man dropped their arms, letting their clubs hang loosely by their sides. The third man’s eyes were wide open, the whites showing all around his pupils. Wolfe watched him the closest.
One of the other two spoke. “We are here to bring you back into the fold.”
“Never was in the fold,” Wolfe replied, cueing the men to where he stood. He moved to the scared man and punched him in the side of the head, knocking him out.
“Cleetus?” one of the final two asked after hearing the body hit the ground.
“I do not think Cleetus is going to answer,” Wolfe taunted. “Here you are, in the darkness, fumbling around looking for me. Carrying clubs. I do not want to hurt any of you, but you leave me no choice. You can walk away, or you can die where you stand.”
Wolfe hated threatening people. Why could they not leave him alone?
“What would it take for you to come with us?” the first man asked.
“I am not going to come with you.”
“We have good people in the church. Good people who farm, fish, and hunt. Good people who are trying to rebuild a world destroyed by greed. How can you not want to be a part of that?”
“All I saw was takers. People who wanted what I have. You have nothing I need, nothing I want. You need to let me go before more of your people get hurt.”
“As you wish. I will relay your words to Isaac.”
“Abraham did not send you?”
“Isaac did. One of the church patriarchs, an elder.”
Wolfe wondered if his distrust was misplaced. Maybe Isaac was working outside of Abraham’s desires.
No. Abraham pulls the strings, and we are all marionettes in his play.
“You need to be going now. Drop those clubs and gather your boys. You have a little walking to do to get back home. We will not be here when you come back, so it would save you a lot of time if you forgot about us.”
Both men dropped their clubs before shuffling forward to find their comrades. Wolfe stepped silently away, watching intently as they picked up one, and then the other, carefully lifting them into fireman’s carries and slowly walking away.
Wolfe waited until they were out of sight before returning to the yard. “We need to get going,” he told the sleeping bags.
Walton grumbled, trying to wake from a deep sleep.
Buddy and Jennifer were nowhere to be seen.
“JENNIFER!” Wolfe shouted. Silence replied.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wolfe studied the area, looking for signs. Footprints in the dirt, not his or Walton’s. “Watch our stuff. I have to go get my daughter.” Wolfe did not wait for a reply. The men with clubs had been a ploy to distract him. It angered Wolfe that it had worked.
He jogged into the street. They had not gone this way, or he would have seen them. He headed around the block, looking for a way they could have gone. Trails and broken fences suggested they could have gone anywhere. His search would go better if he waited for them. He thought he knew where they were going.
Wolfe turned around and retraced his steps to the main road. He took a right and ran as fast as he could toward the church. He passed the two men shuffling along. One stumbled and fell. The other froze. Wolfe left them behind.
He made short work of the run, finding himself at the church after only a few minutes. He crept into the bushes surrounding the old Easter Seals building and waited. He listened and watched.
After thirty minutes, the two men appeared, still carrying their unconscious comrades.
They passed, turning at the corner. Wolfe followed them. A flickering light in a building here or there said that candles were the source. No electricity.
No FEDCOM either. Wolfe clenched his jaw so tight his cheeks started to hurt. He tried to relax, but he could not.
They were running from one enemy to the next. He was starting to lose faith in mankind. Humanity was generally good. It was the despots, those who would influence the others. What kept the good people from being in charge?
Wolfe finally relaxed. Because they could not dictate to their fellow man like the selfishly charismatic.
The politicians of the new world. Wolfe preferred to leave people alone and let them do as they needed to do for themselves and their families. He would help anyone in need. He would fight anyone who tried to control him, like those who had kidnapped Jennifer. Their lives would be measured in hours instead of years.
He thought about Miss Bessie. She led the group out of necessity, not because she wanted to be in charge. FEDCOM wanted to be in charge. Abraham wanted to be in charge.
That subtle point made the difference.
Abraham was going to pay, right after Isaac suffered for his part in sending thugs after Wolfe and his family.
Wolfe caught up with the two men carrying the unconscious. He tripped one and punched the other in the face. The man’s nose exploded and he reeled from the blow, dropping his load. Wolfe pounded him twice more, and he stilled.
The remaining thug struggled to get out from under the man he had been carrying. Wolfe pulled him free, dragging him along the ground before kneeling in the middle of his back.
“Where is Isaac?” Wolfe growled.
“I do not know!” the man claimed. Wolfe punched him in the back of the head, driving his face into the pavement.
“Where were you going right now? Where?”
“Back to the school. We have rooms there.”
“Who else lives there?”
“Everyone and no one.”
Wolfe punched him again. The man groaned from the impact.
“Where did they take my daughter?”
The man clenched his lips and refused to speak.
“I am a firm believer in not torturing another human being, but I feel I have to take out my anguish on something, and the only one available is you. Nothing matters more to me than my family. If you had one, you would know. You were sent after me for the sole purpose of taking my daughter. You had your orders. Now I need you to tell me what they were to save yourself a great deal of pain.”
The man tried shaking his head. Wolfe broke three of his fingers before he could finish. When he started to scream, Wolfe clamped his mouth shut.
“I asked you a question. I deserve an answer.”
The man started to pant from the pain, but at least he stopped trying to scream.
“When I break your wrist, you will forget all about your fingers.”
“Stop, please.” He closed his eyes and rested his head on the pavement. “Isaac’s compound.”
“You will have to forgive me, but I do not know where that is. Please tell me more.” Wolfe maintained the pressure on the man’s back, keeping him from moving. He had a tight grip on his wrist in case the man reneged on his help.
“Take a right at the next block. Down on the right. You cannot miss it.”
“When I let you up, you need to do the right thing and go home. Anything else will not help you live a long life.”
“What about them?” the man asked.
“That is the right thing. I will set them aside. When they come to, they will find their way home, or the faithful will find them. In either case, there is nothing you can do for them right now. Go on. Get yourself home.” Wolfe jumped up and backed away.
The man slowly got to his feet. He cradled his hand with the broken fingers as he staggered away.
Wolfe headed into the shadows. He skimmed past the man and hit the corner at a dead run. He accelerated down the side road, quickly pulling up. There was a barricade with men, smoking and watching. A razor-thin crescent moon provided little light. Although Wolfe could see as if it were daytime, the guards could probably detect movement. He would have to go around.
He turned into the brush and found himself up against a wall. It was not a barrier to him getting what he wanted. He leapt and pulled himself up. The other side was clear. Wolfe eased over, hung until he was steady, and dropped to the ground. He flexed when he hit.
Darkness and silence were his friends. He stayed in the shadows while he moved through the backyard of a massive house. There was a gate in the front. He hesitated. The sound of a squeaky hinge had no natural counterpart. He did not risk it, jumping to grab the top of the wall next to it.
Wolfe lay prone on the top stones, watching and listening.
There was a commotion not far away.
“Good doggy.” Wolfe could barely make out the words, but they were enough. He let himself down and started to move in the direction of the voices.
“Buddy will bite you! You better back off,” a young girl’s voice replied.
Wolfe stopped behind a tree and leaned out to take a look. A group of four men surrounded Jennifer and the big dog, while four more men stood in front of the house. A piece of meat appeared in one of their hands. Buddy hungrily gulped it down while the man eased two ropes around the dog’s neck. When Buddy finished, two men pulled in opposite directions.
Buddy did not take kindly to that and started jumping and snapping, but they had the leverage. The wolf-cross soon tired, panting heavily from the ropes’ pressure on his throat. Jennifer struggled against the rough hands that held her, to no avail. She started to sob.
Wolfe broke from cover and started to run. The sound of a gunshot surprised him. Two more steps and he felt the pain. His leg was on fire. He turned ninety degrees and headed for cover.
“Get her inside!” The eight men out front scrambled to comply. Another shot buzzed past Wolfe’s head. His leg felt more and more wooden as he sought cover. He found a tree and placed his back against it.
He flipped his rifle off safe and peeked out. Then he peeked from the other side. A man on the upper floor with an oversized scope. A night-vision scope. Wolfe popped out from the other side of the tree, bracing the rifle for a snap shot. It hit a sandbag piled at the front of the window, which made the sniper hesitate. Wolfe’s second shot took him in the face. He disappeared from the window.
Wolfe took stock of his situation. His leg was on fire. Grazed, but deep enough to have dug through the muscle. He pressed his hand against it, unsure of what to use to bandage the surface wound.
Buddy continued to fight, growling between gasps.
And Wolfe needed help. He stepped into the open, aimed, and fired. One man holding a line went down. Buddy launched himself at the second man. It was over in seconds. Wolfe limp-loped to the big dog and pulled him from his prey. He ripped the ropes off and looked at the building, which was a mansion from an earlier time. A circular driveway. Outbuildings. But they had taken Jennifer inside the main building.
“Come on, Buddy. We have work to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wolfe did not go straight at the house. He used the darkness to his advantage. He limped his way around the outside, keeping Buddy close to him. The dog started to whine.
“We’ll get her. Soon.”
The back door looked to be the only other way into the house. Wolfe squinted against the pale candlelight glowing inside. He caught a glimpse of Jennifer. They were taking her upstairs. She was fighting them all the way.
“Soon,” Wolfe whispered. A trellis. A downspout. “Wait here.”
He knew the decorative woodwork would not support his weight. He chose the downspout to get him close to a second-floor window. Before he started to climb, Wolfe rubbed a handful of dirt into the wound, and then another. He caked the mud until it stopped bleeding. Wolfe started to climb while the big dog pranced back and forth, upset at having to remain behind. “Stay.”
Wolfe’s leg did not want to cooperate, forcing him to hold on with his arms and good leg and pull himself up six agonizingly slow inches at a time. He pulled and adjusted, pulled and rearranged, pulled, and pulled some more. The second-story window he made it to was dark. He hugged the pipe and reached a free hand over to slide the window up. He dug his fingernails in and pushed.
It would not budge. Going through, he thought. Climbing to the roof was out of the question. He unslung his rifle while still hugging the pipe, and used the butt to break the window and clean the glass from the edges. The window breaking sou
nded like the loudest alarm, but it could not be helped.
Wolfe wrapped a leg over the sill and pulled himself through, finding an occupied bedroom. The young female sat up with her covers pulled tightly under her chin, eyes wide with fear. Wolfe walked through. She followed him with her eyes as he opened the door and peeked into the hallway. Two men stood by a door a few feet away. They carried clubs, which seemed to be the weapon of choice for the faithful. Wolfe charged.
The breaking glass had made them aware, but they were not ready for the fury of Wolfe’s attack. He destroyed the closest man’s face by delivering a fistful of knuckles, forcing the second to stumble backward because the first did not even slow Wolfe down. Wolfe caught the guard and slammed him face-first into the wall before twisting his head halfway off. He dropped the limp body and kicked the door in.
An immense bedroom greeted him. A woman in silk pajamas stared, but Wolfe did not care about her. The man in silk boxers held Jennifer from behind, a knife at her throat.
“Put your rifle down, Mister Wolfe. I think you understand what I’m capable of. Neither of us wants that, so put the rifle down and your hands up.”
“You do not know what I am capable of. I take it you are the one who calls himself Isaac?” Wolfe moved to the side, toeing the ruined door shut.
Isaac pulled back on Jennifer’s hair, making her yelp. Wolfe sidestepped across the room. The woman tried to move away from him, but he watched her closely until she was within arm’s reach. He grabbed her and forced her in front of him. Wolfe balanced the barrel of his AR-15 over her shoulder.
“I think you overestimate Sheila’s importance to me,” the man said. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Wolfe pulled the trigger, sending a high-powered rifle round past the man’s ear. The woman fell to the floor with her hands over her ears. Jennifer tried to fight Isaac, but his grip was too strong.
“I guess we are at an impasse,” Isaac stated. He flinched when Wolfe fired the rifle, but he did not give ground.
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