by Connor Mccoy
Domino playfully tossed it at him. “Whatever. You’re a pack rat. You’re afraid you’ll see something you like and that you won’t get a chance to order it again if you throw out the catalog.”
Jacob sipped from his drink. The mess of catalogs before them had served as their pipeline for all the things they could not procure from their life in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The catalogs were not large, but thanks to Jacob’s delays in going through them, they had piled up.
As Jacob pushed aside a pair of catalogs, his fingers grazed an open envelope containing a letter that he absolutely would have disposed of if it was not important. He couldn’t hide a glare at the envelope.
Domino caught his gaze of anger. “Cowell doesn’t have anything on us, Jacob.” She leaned a little closer. “He’s just a pain in the ass.”
Jacob gripped one of the catalogs. “A pain in the ass who could cause us to lose our children.”
“Like I said, he doesn’t have anything on us,” Domino replied.
Jacob clutched the catalog tighter. “He keeps claiming we’re shutting in our children, particularly Jubilee, that we’re depriving her from interacting with other girls her age.”
“That’s bullshit,” Domino said, “Has he seen Richland High? We had Jubilee in their extracurricular self-defense class last year. She’d still be there if it wasn’t for budget cuts.”
“I know that. I told him that and it went in one ear and out the other. His problem is with Jubilee’s lack of close friends. She doesn’t have a best friend, anyone she’s close to. Her interests just aren’t the same as other girls.”
“Jay, all girls are different. Even the ones who look and sound alike. Nobody can judge her because she hasn’t found her…” Domino chuckled. “…her ‘pack’ yet.”
Jacob chuckled. “Pack? What, girls are like wolves now?”
“Sometimes.” Domino wiggled her eyebrows before taking another sip.
Jacob’s laughter quickly faded. “And then there’s our homeschooling curriculum. He’s been going after that too…”
Domino, setting down her coffee, interrupted him. “Our homeschool curriculum is fine. It’s well within the state’s standards. Don’t worry about Cowell. We’ve raised our kids just fine. It’s far better than bringing up our children in a neighborhood with graffiti on the walls and cursing and guns and drugs…” She sighed. “We built ourselves a nice, safe little world for our little ones. Who could be against that?”
Jacob smiled, though he knew their world wasn’t quite “safe.” They still had to deal with the occasional wild animal that encroached close to their lands. Their grounds also were not totally safe from human intruders, although those were far and few between.
“Hey.” Jacob scooted his chair a little closer to Domino without hitting one of the table posts. “I have a wonderful idea. Tonight, we barbecue. Put the best meat on the grill. Add some corn and potatoes, and we’ll have one hell of a party.”
Domino laughed. “A barbecue is one hell of a party for you now, huh?” She rose from her seat. “Me too.”
Once upon a time, parties were pretty damn rough for me and you, weren’t they? Jacob stood up and approached his wife, ready to kiss her. Indeed, life had been good to them. It had not come easy, but the results had been well worth it.
Before Jacob’s lips could make contact with his wife’s, a terrible scream tore through the air. It came through the window.
“My God!” Domino rose to her full height.
Jacob didn’t need his wife to tell him who that was. “Jubilee!”
Chapter Two
Brandon wasn’t sure what had happened. Everything had been going so well, so peacefully. Now his sister was on the ground, screaming horribly. She wasn’t hurt in the sense she was stung by a mosquito or had tripped, fell, and banged her leg. Jubilee’s screams came from cries of agony.
A moment ago, Brandon and Jubilee had been sitting at the pond, looking at the tiny movements within the water. Tiny fish were swimming past, too small to bite onto the bait that hung from their cane poles. Every now and then, the two of them would point to a bigger fish swimming by. However, those fish were too far from the poles. Would one of them ever notice the bait?
However, their attention had been interrupted by a shuffling noise. The shuffling soon turned to crunching. He and Jubilee turned their heads toward the woods. “You hear that?” Brandon had asked.
Jubilee raised her arms in a fighting stance. She was not someone to shy away from danger, but her widening eyes told Brandon that even she would not stick around if it was too dangerous.
“Someone’s out there,” she had said with a hushed whisper.
“Shit,” Brandon had replied.
Jubilee had shot him a glare. “You know Mom doesn’t like it when you say bad words.”
Brandon had picked up some bad words, sometimes from Dad, though his father tried his best not to say anything he did not want his kids to repeat. But after accidently striking his thumb with a hammer, could anyone really blame Dad for saying what came next?
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he had replied to his sis.
“Let’s bug out. It’s hard to see with those trees hanging over the fence. Somebody could be out there, and we won’t see them.” Brandon had narrowed his eyes to look. “Like a skilled ninja assassin.”
“Brandon, ninjas aren’t going to attack us. This is for real.” Jubilee had begun her jog down the dirt path that led back to the house. “C’mon!”
And then she fell to the ground with a loud scream.
“Jubes!” Brandon dropped to the dirt. Blood leaked down her right upper arm. “Are you shot?” Brandon’s voice squeaked. Then he noticed the wooden arrow sticking out of her flesh.
The crunching sounds grew louder. They soon turned to rapid footfalls. Brandon spun his head around. Someone was approaching.
Jacob burst out the front door with Domino just behind. His heart raced. That scream was blood curdling. He feared what had happened to his daughter. But what could have transpired out there? He had secured his property with a strong, tall fence. Predators could not get onto his land without some warning. And as for human intruders…
You’ve dealt with them before, Jacob thought. He had chased them off his land. And if they were hunting on his land, there was the chance his daughter had been caught in the crossfire.
“Jubilee!” Jacob cried as he raced past his crops toward the small hill just before his pond. “I’m coming!”
Once he crossed the hill, he had arrived at the pond. Jubilee was lying on the ground with Brandon standing over her. The boy was facing off against a tall man with a camouflage shirt, baggy pants and paint-stained boots. The man was holding an arrow and a bag over his shoulder. However, he was also sweaty, wide-eyed and shaking a little. He seemed more petrified than Brandon, whose fists were clenched and who looked ready to belt this guy hard.
“You son of a bitch! You shot my sister!” Brandon shouted.
“Whoa, wait! I’m just trying to help her. Yeah, it was all a mistake!” He started hyperventilating. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I didn’t mean to hit her!”
One look at the man’s face instantly told Jacob who he was. “Cribber,” he said under his breath.
Cribber. Jacob had a word for guys like him— “douchebag outdoorsmen.” They were the loser version of rural dwellers, not men who grew up in a culture of responsibility, knowing how to handle weapons and to obey the land laws, but amateurs who staggered onto his land and fired their arrows from bows like they were shooting foam objects from children’s toys. In Jacob’s mind, they were the rural versions of the punks who used to live in Jacob’s neighborhood. Cribber might not be the dumbest of such guys, but he was close.
“Jubilee! My God!”
Domino knelt down next to her and tilted her right arm up. Blood trickled down from the arrow wound. Jubilee’s eyes fluttered. She was going in and out of consciousness.
“Mom…Mo
mmy…” the teen muttered.
“An arrow,” Jacob whispered.
He didn’t need further explanation. He knew what this shithead had done. He was trespassing—again—on his land and shooting at random birds and animals. Jacob had chased off Cribber and a fellow wanna-be hunter named Shellie. At least this time Cribber was alone.
“Whoa! Hey, Mister, uh, Avery. Look, I didn’t even see where that arrow went.” Cribber pointed to the sky. “I was aiming at a hawk. Going to mount him on my wall, you know.” He chuckled. “Mount him with his wings out so it looks like he’s going to fly down and shit, but he’s really not, you know?”
“A hawk,” Jacob said under his breath. “That’s why you shot my daughter?” His voice exploded. “For a goddamned hawk?”
Cribber waved his hands. “Whoa! Like I said, I wasn’t aiming at her. Hey, I didn’t even see the bitch.”
If Cribber had thought to apologize for calling Jubilee a bitch, he had no time to speak it. Jacob seized Cribber by the front of his camo shirt and head butted him in the nose.
Cribber screamed. Blood ran down from nostrils. It soon stained his shirt. He also dropped his bag of arrows and his bow onto the dirt.
“And that’s just for starters,” Jacob said, seething. He punched Cribber’s nose a second time, flinging blood off onto the grass. Cribber screamed again.
“Hey! What’s your blood doing on my grass?” Jacob asked, with a hint of sarcasm. “Your filth doesn’t belong on my property!” Then he drove a knee into Cribber’s chest.
“My land is too good for douchebags like you.” With that, Jacob opened his hand and released Cribber, who promptly fell onto the ground, clutching his chest and whimpering.
“You know, I think you’d enjoy being at the bottom of my pond. It’s a nice safe place. Oh, and I’m sure no one would think to look for you there. Actually, I don’t think there’s anyone who would want to look for you. You’re a piece of garbage. Who would even give a shit about you?”
Crying, Cribber finally said after all the beating, “Look, man, give me a break!”
“A break?” Jacob cracked his right knuckles. “Oh, by all means, I’ll give you—”
“Jay!” Domino cried.
Jacob stopped. His boot nearly stepped on Cribber’s bow. He turned to his wife, who seemed agonized by the whole scene. “Please, worry about your daughter. Forget about him.”
Jacob looked down at the bow. He stomped on it once -- hard. It cracked loudly under Jacob’s boot. Meanwhile, Cribber climbed to his feet, still dribbling blood. Jacob did not advance on Cribber any longer.
“You…you’re batshit crazy!” With that, Cribber ran off toward the woods.
Jacob let him go, but not without shouting, “If you come back here, I will run your head down into my pond and let my catfish eat your balls off!”
“Jay!” Domino grabbed him by the shoulders. “Please, forget him. Jubilee!”
The mention of his daughter’s name snapped him out of the remainder of his fury. What was Jubilee’s condition?
He ran up to his girl. Domino already had broken off the arrow shaft and discarded it, but the arrow point itself was missing. It must be embedded in her skin. Jacob’s stomach churned. For the moment, Brandon was pressing a cloth upon the wound to stop the bleeding.
“My God,” Jacob said, “we have to get her to a hospital.”
His eyes met Domino’s. “Sheryl.”
“But that’s far,” Domino protested.
“Two hours. But we don’t have a choice. We need a good surgeon, and the best I know is my older sis. She’ll be on duty for the next few hours. This…” He grimaced as he looked at Jubilee’s arm again. “This looks pretty bad. We need to go. Now!”
Jacob reached the black pickup truck near the back of his home, at the entrance to his garage. It was rare for them to take a trip into the metro area of Washington D.C., but today the journey was vital. He wouldn’t take his family there unless he didn’t have any other choice. The Richmond metro area was too far, and Jacob did not know any surgeons in nearby towns that could handle a wound like Jubilee’s. He had to go with a sure thing here.
Sheryl. God, this is going to be strange, barging in on you like this.
He hopped into the driver’s seat and started the ignition. The vehicle smoothly hummed to life. Jacob personally had maintained this vehicle and even made special modifications. It would not fail him and his family today. Jacob had built in some fail-safes that would see to that.
Jacob drove the truck down a small driveway onto the dirt road that ran through his property. With a left turn, Jacob was now on grassy land near the pond. After stopping the truck close to his family, he jumped out and rejoined them.
“All right. Let’s help her inside,” Jacob said as he dashed to the truck’s bed, which was shielded with a Diamond Back cover. Jacob yanked off the cover. Jacob would have taken a moment to feel satisfaction for how he had stocked his truck, but with his daughter hurt, he had to put his hard work into action.
He had outfitted his truck like a military equipment carrier. The bed was divided into numbered compartments. The compartment in the bed’s center contained a large red backpack. Red was appropriate, for it was the color of first aid. This pack held enough supplies to help Jubilee through the next couple of hours.
He hurried to Jubilee with the pack, who by now was resting in the back seat. Jacob unzipped the pack and started fishing out supplies.
“Get the wound as clean as you can,” Jacob said. As Domino worked on Jubilee’s wound, Jacob added, “The arrowhead is going to have to come out, but we can’t do that here.”
“Right,” Domino said.
Brandon had calmed down somewhat, but the boy still was a little jittery. Totally understandable after all he had been through.
“Brandon, get your get home bag. Have it with you, just in case,” Jacob said.
Brandon snapped his hand into a salute before running to the truck bed. Giving him something to do would help calm him further. Jacob just hoped this was the sole emergency for the day.
Get your get home bag. Brandon rarely had heard his father tell him to do that. He understood why, though. This was a long trip, and it paid to be ready.
Brandon climbed up on the truck’s hanging tailgate. Once there, he reached out for the compartment that was numbered zero. It was strange to have a compartment labeled with a zero, but his dad insisted on it. Zero was an important number, one that inherently seemed alarming. Zero was the final number in a countdown. Zero was part of the phrase “ground zero.” The very number denoted absolutely nothing, a void, an absence of any amount.
So, ironically, compartment zero held the family’s get home bags. Four backpacks lay nestled inside, each labeled with a single name: Jacob, Domino, Jubilee, Brandon.
Brandon grabbed the one with his name on it. He didn’t have to check inside to know what the bag contained. The boy pictured its contents—a change of clothes, a light tarp, energy bars, water, first aid kit, a flashlight, batteries, a map, a compass, and a face mask--virtually everything Brandon would need to get him through a rough situation.
Brandon turned the bag on its side. It also contained a firearm, which was bound to the bag by MOLLE webbing. It was a stark reminder that these bags were not frivolous items. A get home bag was exactly that, a bag of supplies to help get the wearer home—by any means.
A sudden rustle caused Brandon to whip his head around. A crow flew past. He exhaled nervously. Cribber’s actions had caused his heart to race whenever an unexpected noise cut through the air. He needed some reassurance. He wished he had super vision like a cyborg.
Or, he could just use his binoculars!
He unzipped the middle compartment. Dad had told them to keep binoculars in their bags so they could be on the lookout for bad actors. Brandon removed his and hung them around his neck. Now no hunter would sneak up on them!
After holstering his pack, Brandon hurried back to his family. D
omino was scooting in the back to sit next to Jubilee. Brandon put the binoculars to his face and scanned the driveway in front of the house.
To his shock, the driveway was occupied by a visitor.
“Dad!” Brandon cried out, “Dad, come here! We got company!”
“Company?” Jacob joined his son. “Who could be coming over?” Jubilee’s trainer wasn’t coming in today, and if any of their friends were stopping by, they generally would have called ahead.
“It’s him!” Brandon handed Jacob the binoculars. “Mister Cowell!”
Chapter Three
Jacob’s hands clenched the binoculars. This was not what he needed. It was as if Cowell had decided upon the worst time to appear. Here Jacob was, his daughter bleeding from an arrow in her arm and her father having just beat up the guy who shot her. Cribber’s blood still was fresh on Jacob’s grass. How was this going to look?
Keep calm, Jacob thought. You’re totally in the right here. That asshole shot your daughter. He deserved what he got. Cowell can’t possibly blame you. You’re the victim. No, Jubilee is.
If a reasonable person was headed for his property, Jacob would agree. But Alexander Cowell was not a reasonable person, at least as far as Jacob was concerned. The social worker was suspicious of all “off the grid” types. In fact, he wasn’t thrilled about the rustic life at all. He looked upon the countryside as a decaying facet of the United States that eventually would be overtaken by bustling cities and suburbs. If you wanted to live out here, you were a barbarian or a cultist.
So, Jacob did not expect any fair treatment from Cowell. The man was sure to view Jubilee’s injury as the natural result of living out here and bring this matter before a court. And if he learned Jacob had beaten up Cribber, Cowell would take that as further evidence that Jacob was a man prone to violence and not to be trusted with his own children.
Jacob stormed back to his truck. “Hurry! We have to go. Now! Cowell’s here.”
