by Connor Mccoy
“You would have killed her!” Jacob cried. “You’re lucky I don’t blow your head off and the heads of your goon squad in return. I’m being generous in letting you go!”
“It was unfortunate that your lady got in the line of fire,” Sykes said. “But there was a lot at stake. The doc wasn’t going to use that fuel. I know he sure as hell isn’t using it now.”
Jacob’s jaw clenched. Sykes knew Doc Sam was dead.
“That fuel’s going to a better purpose. My operation’s going to send food and water from town to town. I’m saving people’s lives. It’s a shame some people don’t appreciate that.”
“You can try clothing yourself as the people’s savior all you want, but I know you’re full of it. So, turn that truck around and don’t come back to my house ever again,” Jacob said. “You do and next time it’s going to be far worse than just a few logs on the road.”
Sykes, his hands on his hips, shook his head. “Dear Lord. So, you’re going to withhold all those nice crops from me. Not even going to cut a nice deal? Think of what I could trade you. Food, medicines, maybe even a set of electronics I saved from the EMP.”
“Here’s my answer.” Jacob shot off a bullet over the heads of Sykes and his men.
Sykes jolted for an instant. The smug son of a bitch wasn’t used to being shot at. Maybe that would rattle him.
But instead Sykes regained his composure, pulling his shirt taut. “Yeah, you’re definitely not a neighborly sort. I don’t like that. I especially don’t like little idiots like yourself who shoot off at the mouth.” He stiffened his chin. “But you really cross the line when you try to take a shot at me. Because…”
Sykes didn’t finish his sentence. Instead a loud pop hit the tree just under Domino. Jacob’s heart pounded. His wife wasn’t hit, but that shot was too close for comfort. Domino clung to the tree.
“I might just shoot back,” Sykes finished.
One of Sykes’s men had remained out of sight until now. He had taken cover behind the truck and just revealed himself by aiming a rifle at the tree where Domino was stationed. He must have been scouting out the surrounding area while Jacob and Sykes were sparring and spotted Domino.
“Now.” A lot of the aw-shucks tone in Sykes’s voice disappeared. “Let’s get real here, boy. For starters, throw down those mighty nice guns in your hands. If not, your lady up there is going to get the slug in her that she missed the first time. And don’t think my men can’t nail you as well. Then we’ll negotiate a settlement on my terms.”
Jacob’s lips tightened. Sykes was as dangerous as he had feared. The man was not going to give up on the Avery house. Fortunately, Jacob had counted on Sykes’s treachery. Thanks to his son’s suggestion, Jacob was about to turn the tables on Sykes.
Jacob whistled loudly, in the form of a bird’s chirp.
Sykes’s men turned to each other. “What the hell was that?” one of them asked. “Is he trying to be funny?” questioned another.
Oh, it’s going to be funny, alright. Jacob glanced down at the woods on the left side of the truck. Only I’m the only one who’s going to be laughing.
A shot burst from the woods. Something launched right into the open cargo area of the truck.
Jacob couldn’t see it from where he was, but he knew what had happened. His daughter, secreted in the woods, just had launched a special canister mixed with fuel and a primer. The results spoke for themselves when the interior of the cargo area suddenly exploded in flames.
Sykes and his men spun around. “Son of a bitch!” one of the men cried out.
An inferno gushed out of the cargo area. Flames quickly spread as the fire devoured the backend of the box truck. Jacob guessed that Sykes had stored some of his stolen fuel inside the storage cabinet. It would help keep the fire burning nice and hot.
Sykes’s eyes widened. “No!” He shook his head violently. “No!”
Thanks, Brandon. Jacob’s boy had suggested that they take out the truck if they had to. That way, Sykes and his men could not come around the back if they refused to abandon their pursuit of Avery’s property.
But that was only half the battle. Now Jacob and his family had to make sure the threat Sykes posed was extinguished. The businessman had lost his composure, cursing and pointing up at the trees.
“Shoot their asses!” Sykes cried.
But Jacob and Domino already were in motion, their hands pulling on triggers. The man nearest to Domino went down thanks to Jacob’s bullets. Another man took a hit, spun around, and slammed against the burning truck before flopping onto the asphalt.
Sykes ducked and ran toward the road’s shoulder, also taking care to avoid his burning vehicle. The other men, while they sped toward the woods, still aimed their guns back toward Jacob and Domino.
However, two of them suddenly went down. Additional rounds rang out from the woods, one from Jubilee’s direction, the other from the opposite side of the road. Jacob and Domino fired their latest barrages. Sykes’s men were caught between four different shooters.
The men quickly fanned out, apparently realizing they were caught in the open. Two more men fell. The rest disappeared from sight.
Jacob ceased fire when it became clear there were no more targets. They seemed to have nailed six. There was no sign of Sykes. Jacob mentally recounted the men. Three or four more might still be out there.
He slung the strap of his rifle over his shoulder before climbing down the tree. Domino followed his lead. Husband and wife reunited on the street.
Jubilee popped out of the trees. She was holding her own weapon. “Dad!”
“You did great!” Jacob rushed over and put his arm around her.
The teen looked around the mass of dead bodies and grimaced. “Yeah.”
Jacob sympathized with her. It could not have been easy to pull that trigger on actual human beings. As Sheryl climbed out of the brush on the other side of the road, Jacob imagined it was even harder for his sister.
“Sheryl!” Jacob beckoned to her.
Sheryl coughed. The smoke from the truck fire filled the air. “I wanted…I wanted to try hitting Sykes…”
“Don’t worry. You did just as I told you.” Jacob coughed. “We’ve got to get away from the truck.” The fire had now reached into the driver’s cabin and was consuming it. “We’ve got to track down Sykes and whoever else is with him. We can’t let him get to the house.”
Chapter Eighteen
As Sykes fled through the trees, vicious thoughts flooded his mind. This could not be happening. This could not be happening to him. He was the king of this state. Who the hell were these people to try stopping him from taking what was rightfully his?
And by rightfully his, Sykes included everything and anything he laid his eyes on.
Despite his rage, fear, even a little terror, racked Sykes to his bones. He was in trouble. His truck, his ticket back to his headquarters, just had been torched. With phones dead, he had no way of contacting his men at his headquarters to send another truck to pick him up or send help. He would have to walk to the next town, and without his truck, he had no supplies to barter with. He would have to…to beg! Beg for help! Beg for food and shelter!
Sykes cursed loudly. He wanted these people to pay. He vowed to squeeze the life out of them with his bare hands. But right now, he had to focus on staying alive. He was armed, but without his men he was outnumbered. He didn’t know how many people were helping that homesteader. There was his wife and that unknown shooter that took out his truck. That made three. Was there a fourth? So many bullets flew onto the road that it seemed as if there were five, six, maybe more.
He stumbled. His right knee crashed down into a mud puddle. Damn. His nicely cleaned jeans had landed in a nasty mud puddle. He might have cared more if his body wasn’t pumped full of adrenalin. He still had to escape that homesteader. He picked himself up and kept running.
Before long he started heaving. He wasn’t used to running on such uneven land, and these b
oots weren’t intended for long treks. He was sure the homesteader’s ranch was in this direction. He hoped he hadn’t become lost. He didn’t have a clue how to navigate in the woods by himself.
Keep calm, he thought. You can outsmart these yokels. If he could find their ranch, he could raid some of their crops to feed himself. He might find some supplies that he could escape with. With luck, he might sustain himself until he could find a way back to his headquarters.
And if he managed to exert some revenge on that homesteader, then so be it.
Brandon sat back in his chair after pacing around the attic. Nearby, Courtney was seated near the right wall, her nose in a book. A small pile of books lay beside her. Thanks to Brandon’s mom and Aunt Sheryl, Courtney had gathered some books to occupy her time.
When Brandon agreed to watch Courtney and Arnie, he hoped it would afford him some time to get to know Courtney. However, the girl wasn’t the most talkative type and retreated into her own inner world. Arnie, for his part, seemed content to play by himself, coloring in his coloring book.
Brandon glanced at the gun on his belt again. He had felt nervous earlier, wondering if Sykes or his men would try breaking into the attic, but as the hours passed, boredom took over. He doubted that his parents, Aunt Sheryl and Jubilee would fail in stopping Sykes, but so much had happened in the past week that he couldn’t truly be sure.
Arnie stood up. The movement broke Brandon’s train of thought. The man looked around the attic as if finally aware of his surroundings. He seemed fidgety, as if he wanted to go somewhere else.
“Arnie?” Brandon rose out of his chair. “You okay?”
Arnie started groaning, not very loudly, but constantly enough to rattle Brandon. “Want to go outside, Brandon.” He reached up and touched one of the ceiling beams. “Not liking it in here anymore.”
He might be getting claustrophobic, Brandon thought. He wished the attic had a window, a way to open it up to the outside world.
“I know it sucks to be in here,” Brandon said, “but we got to keep it cool in here until they give us the okay to leave. There are bad guys out there, remember?”
Arnie’s face tightened. “I don’t want to stay in here.”
“But Arnie—” Brandon began.
Arnie’s groans grew louder. Then, abruptly, he let out a shout. Brandon backed up so quickly that he kicked over the chair he had been sitting in. His heart pounded. Would Arnie go so nuts that the man would try to kill him? Would Brandon have to shoot him?
All of a sudden, Courtney yanked off an old sheet from a pile of boxes and cast it over Arnie’s head. Courtney called out in a high-pitched voice. “Hey Arnie, it’s nighttime! It’s nighttime! See? It’s all dark!”
Arnie spun around in a circle. His grunts started to subside. “See?” Courtney asked, “It’s night! You want to come back in or do you want to stay out in the dark where it’s all fun and you can camp out?”
Arnie plopped down on the floor. “I want to stay out in nighttime!” he said with a laugh.
“Good, good!” Courtney got on her knees and poked her head under the sheet. “Hey, it’s Courtney! Courtney’s out in the dark with you!”
Brandon watched Courtney and Arnie play as if they were out in the night for a while. Soon, Arnie was calmed down enough that he was content to sit, discard the sheet, and return to his coloring as if nothing had happened.
“That was amazing,” Brandon said, as Courtney approached.
“It’s a little trick I heard about,” Courtney said. “Arnie’s last caretaker did that when Arnie would get in a mood. It helps to clear his head of all the bad thoughts and makes him happy again. She had a big backyard that Arnie liked to play in. She would take him out there at night to play games. It’s kind of like his big happy memory.”
Brandon let himself relax, sinking into his chair. “Anything else we should know about him? I mean, he’s not a killer or something?” Brandon laughed.
Courtney didn’t share in his mirth, which alarmed Brandon slightly. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe not. When I was with Sykes’s men, they’d share a lot of weird stories about Arnie, like about his dad.” Courtney sat in the chair next to Brandon. “I don’t know what happened to his dad, but he died some years ago. They said Arnie got put in a mental institution after that but then he broke out.”
Courtney rubbed her forehead. “There was this one guy, Larry. He was a real creepy guy, and I’m sure he was exaggerating. But he said Arnie used to wander the roads like a bogeyman and if he ran into someone who treated him bad, he’d kill him.”
A chill ran down Brandon’s spine. It seemed like a story someone might make up about Arnie. Still, given Arnie’s robust physique, the man certainly could kill if he wanted to do so.
“Did Sykes ever tell stories like that?” Brandon asked.
Courtney rolled her eyes. “Sykes would just say, ‘He’s a special kind of fellow.’” She imitated Sykes’ Southern drawl as she recalled his words. “He wouldn’t spill major details on Arnie.”
Brandon grimaced. “Do you think Arnie’s safe?”
Courtney hesitated. “I guess. Maybe. It depends how you treat him.”
Brandon decided he didn’t want to talk about Arnie for a while. His interest drifted over to Courtney herself. “What about you? I mean, where do you come from?”
Courtney bit her lip. “I—I don’t have anybody. My parents, they died when I was real little. I got passed around like a hot potato. I finally ended up with a nice lady, Lily. But she died of cancer.” She looked to the ceiling. “That’s when everything went crazy. I wandered into one of Sykes’s warehouses looking for food. Sykes found me and promised to find me a home. I could work for him and have a place to sleep and eat.” She smiled crookedly. “Turned out to be your place.”
Brandon nodded. “Yeah.”
Courtney hesitated a little before continuing. “It’s kind of cool that none of us are normal.”
“What do you mean?” Brandon asked.
“You don’t go to school. You learn everything at your house. Your parents are, like, survivalists or something. You even know how to shoot guns and stuff. Lily would have freaked out if I even picked up one.”
“I guess we’re not normal. If we were, we probably wouldn’t even be alive,” Brandon said.
The two fell silent for a moment.
“I hope your parents come back soon,” Courtney said.
Pop! Pop!
Jacob and the gunman continued exchanging gunfire as Jacob pursued him. The gunman’s aim was wild, hitting only the trees high above. He wasn’t skilled in a running gun battle, and while Jacob wasn’t used to running with a gun either, he still was proficient enough to maintain a steady grip on his firearm.
Jacob’s latest shot hit so close to the gunman that it sprayed some wood shavings in his face. The man fell down, screaming.
Jacob charged up to him. The man still held his gun. “Let it go!” Jacob screamed. “Let it go or you’re dead!”
“Alright! Alright!” The man released his weapon. Jacob seized the man by his shirt collar and turned him over. He was not carrying any more weapons.
“You still want to keep this up?” Jacob asked as he held the gun on the man. “Do you?”
“No! No!” he cried as Domino, Sheryl and Jubilee approached from behind. “Look, I’m just doing what Sykes told me! I don’t want to die! Please!”
Jacob kept the gun on him as Domino snatched the man’s firearm. At least this guy gave up, which was showing more sense than the last gunman. Jacob and his crew had discovered one of Sykes’s surviving men, who refused entreaties to give up. A bullet from Domino put an end to him. This man before them also tried to fight back before surrendering. However, Jacob wasn’t in the mood to let him go unless Jacob was sure this man wasn’t coming back.
Jacob grabbed the man, hoisted him up and slammed him against a tree. “Alright, here’s how it’s going to be. There’s a town, Venture Point. It’s no
t too far away. You walk in a straight line and you’ll find Dalton Road. Hang a left and keep walking. With any luck, there will be people there who can help you. But if you show up at my house again, I won’t be so nice.”
The man sobbed. “Okay, okay.”
Jacob’s group waited until the man was almost out of sight. “My gosh,” Sheryl said softly, “the way he acted, it makes me wonder how those other men were. And we had to shoot them.” Looking at Jacob, she added, “I guess we didn’t stand a chance of reasoning with them.”
“They would have shot us in a second if we had tried,” Domino said. “The only reason he blubbered and ran off is because we got the better of him.”
Sheryl swallowed hard, saying nothing more.
Jacob turned back in the other direction, toward the road. “I’d feel better if we found Sykes. I don’t think the others really have that much fight in them, but Sykes, he might be a different story.”
As Jacob started hiking, Domino said, “The man looked like he was about to piss himself.”
“Yeah. I get the feeling he’s a lot more bark than bite,” Jacob said. “He’s probably never been in a really dangerous situation. He’ll either run away or he might become so crazed with revenge that he’ll go the other way, become vicious, do things he probably wouldn’t do if he had his men performing the dirty deeds for him.”
“But he’s going to have to find something to eat and drink sooner or later,” Sheryl said, eyeing the woods around them. “I mean, he can’t just stay out in the woods forever.”
“I know. But we’re the closest source of food there is unless he wants to try the berries in the forest,” Jacob said. “If he becomes desperate, things could turn ugly.”
Sykes sank back against a tree trunk. He didn’t feel safe enough to stop. He just was too exhausted to keep going, although he figured he might have outdistanced the homesteader’s party for a while. He had not heard any voices or anyone traipsing through the forest behind him.
