Gateway To Chaos (Book 3): Seeking Justice

by Payne, T. L.

  “Buy us time for what?”

  “To gather your things and go,” the woman said. Lucy didn’t detect malice in the statement.

  “Where the hell would we go? We have injured people. A kid. How do they expect us to travel in this weather?”

  “They don’t care. They just want you gone before the cartel comes back.”

  “The cartel isn’t coming back. They have JJ. They have what they wanted. There’s no reason for them to come back here and harass anyone,” Lucy said.

  “They don’t know that for sure.”

  “Scott saw her with them. He escaped from them.”

  “If Sheriff Arnold comes back and tells them there’s no longer any threat, they’ll believe him.”

  “And what if he gets killed?” Lucy asked.

  “You should plan to leave,” Melanie said.

  “Right now, I’m going to go help my friends defend our home. You should go.”

  The woman pointed to her rifle in Lucy’s hand. “You’re going to need more ammo.” Lucy’s gaze dropped to the woman’s belt.

  “I have four magazines with thirty rounds each.”

  “Just drop the belt and step away,” Lucy said.

  Melanie reached down with her right hand and undid the belt. It dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. Melanie never took her eyes off Lucy’s finger on the trigger. Lucy twitched the barrel of the rifle toward the front door. “Out!”

  A second after Melanie exited and shut the door behind her, Lucy rushed to the back door. She felt a wave of lightheadedness and held onto the doorframe to steady herself. With her head lowered, she listened. The gunfire was sporadic and sounded farther away. She drew in a deep breath and let it out as the fog lifted.

  Lucy scanned the area between the house and barn. She saw no one. No one hid behind the woodpile or pumphouse. Her arm throbbed as she brought the rifle up and looked through its scope. She saw a boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen, in a tree at the edge of the field.

  God. I don’t want to kill kids.

  Lucy stared down at her bloody hand. She realized she wasn’t wearing her coat. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Could she trust herself to know friend from foe?

  “Lucy.”

  She looked up. Get back inside. Guard the others. "We’ve got this,” Antonio whispered.

  “Where are you?” She scanned the area near the house but couldn’t see him.

  He lifted a white tarp and poked his head out.

  “Where’s Sheena?”

  “Up in the loft of the barn. That girl is a damn good shot. She’s picking them off as they attempt to cross the field. Dean’s kid is getting the ones advancing from the south.”

  “Who are you getting?” Lucy asked.

  Antonio pointed. “Anyone approaching the barn.”

  “How many are left?” Lucy asked

  “No way to know for sure.”

  “Go watch the front. Make sure no one slips inside.”

  The image of Melanie standing in the basement stairway sent a shiver through her. She turned and rushed back to the family room and took a position by the window. She reached down and turned the deadbolt.

  The wind whipped the curtains and sent a chill through Lucy. In seconds, her teeth were chattering. She wouldn’t last long dressed only in her T-shirt. She scanned the room and located the quilt Nick had slept under on the floor by the sofa. She scooped it up and gingerly wrapped it around her shoulders. As she did, she could smell Nick’s odor on the fabric. The image of him lying just outside the door brought a fresh wave of bile to her throat.

  The overwhelming thought that he could still be alive out there consumed her as she stood there watching the driveway through the curtains. Lucy turned and unlocked the door, turned the knob, and cracked it open just enough to view Nick. She watched his chest for movement. A shot rang out, and she jumped. She slammed the door shut and pressed herself against the wall. Was the shooter that had killed Nick still out at the end of the drive? Uncontrollable rage rose inside her. The searing pain of the man’s bullet in her arm only added to her fury.

  Lucy returned to the bedroom, placed the rifle on the bed, and pulled on her coat. She winced as she slid her injured arm into the sleeve. For a moment, she feared she might pass out. She inhaled and exhaled through the wave of pain. When the fog cleared, she moved across the hall into the master bedroom, stepping over the body on the floor.

  She pressed herself against the wall and pushed back the curtain. She scanned the driveway and fence line looking for where the shooter could be hiding. She looked for movement of any kind. She watched for several minutes before spotting a pudgy man dressed all in white behind the antique wagon just inside the gate. He blended in perfectly except for the barrel of his rifle resting between the spokes of the wagon’s wheel.

  Lucy brought her rifle up and rested the barrel on the windowsill. She estimated that the man was at least one hundred yards from the house. She wasn’t sure if she could hit him from that distance. He’d been able to hit her and Nick, but she was inexperienced at shooting rifles. Should I at least try? What if she missed, and he returned fire?

  The image of Nick returned. Lucy drew in a deep breath and held it as she looked through the rifle’s scope. She had to try to take the man out. Otherwise, he’d just keep picking them off one by one. She had him in her sights. She had to take the shot. She prayed the rifle was accurate.

  Lucy searched through the scope. He was kneeling, leaning against the wagon’s wheel with his rifle resting between the spokes. Lucy moved the crosshairs to the man’s chest. She drew in a breath. Her hand shook and the crosshairs bounced up and down. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her nerves. When she opened them, the man had shifted. He’d moved to the back of the wagon. Something or someone had caught his attention, and he was now facing north toward the barn. Lucy leaned closer to the window trying to see what the man was looking at. She saw nothing. The man rose and placed the rifle’s barrel on the back of the wagon’s seat. He leaned over and peered through its scope. Lucy moved the crosshairs to the man’s back. She had to do it. She had to take the shot now, before he had a chance to fire at whoever he was aiming at.

  Lucy squeezed the trigger. Pain shot through her from the rifle’s recoil. She swallowed hard and fought back nausea. She leaned down and looked through the scope to confirm if she’d hit the man. He was gone. She scanned the ground around the wagon. There, by the wheel, was the man on his back, rocking back and forth holding his chest. For a moment, she thought someone else must have shot him because she’d aimed at his back, but then she realized that the bullet must have gone through him and exited through his chest.

  She placed her finger on the trigger and lined up the crosshairs. She would put him out of his misery.

  “This one is for Nick,” Lucy said as she squeezed the trigger again. She watched the round hit the man and he stopped moving. She stared into the scope, watching, waiting for the man to die. She felt numb. She could hear her own heart beating. It hammered inside her chest. The rush of adrenaline produced a sort of euphoric sensation within her body.

  Was this that adrenaline high some people talked about?

  She was unaware of how much time had passed. Slowly, she stood and walked to the door. Lucy pulled it open and stared down at Nick’s body. There was no movement. She saw no rise and fall of his chest to indicate breathing. Lucy scanned the driveway and fence. She saw no one. She listened. The gunfire in the back had ceased.

  Pulling the rifle up, Lucy moved through the doorway and knelt by Nick. With a trembling hand, she reached down and felt his neck. No pulse. She moved her fingers up and down his neck.

  Still nothing.

  She leaned over and placed her cheek close to his mouth. She felt no breath coming from his mouth or nose. She didn’t want to accept it, but he was gone. He was dead, and there was nothing she could do about it. Gage was gone. How many others? Raine. Scott. JJ. Were they dead now as well?

  Slo
wly, Lucy stood and walked toward the dead shooter beneath the antique wagon. The flowers in the pots sitting on its seat were brown and shriveled. Lucy focused on them. She didn’t want to look at the man she’d just killed. But she had to. She needed to make sure he was dead. As she stepped onto the driveway, Lucy scanned the area between the house and barn. She saw no one. She sprinted across the open space and dropped down by the dead man. She glanced away from the man’s blank stare and felt his neck for a pulse. He was gone. Remorse rose within her. She looked back to Nick’s body and then toward the barn. Now wasn’t the time for second-guessing. She needed to find Sheena and Antonio. Dread filled her as she listened to the silence.

  As Lucy crouched behind the tractor, she scanned the pasture beyond the barn through her rifle’s scope. Antonio and Sheena stood near the tree line. They stared down at someone on the ground. Lucy raised her hand to her mouth.

  The kid.

  Someone had shot the kid. His mother cradled him in her lap. Dean knelt with his head buried in the boy’s chest. It was a heart-wrenching scene. They’d come to help and paid much too high a price. Lucy considered walking over to them, but she just couldn’t bear it. She thought of her own teenage son. Was he safe? Was he fighting for his life as she was? Would she ever see him again? The thought that she wouldn’t was too overwhelming. Her knees buckled, and the sky went black.

  Lucy felt hands grab her injured arm and she cried out. “Stop! My arm.” Her eyes popped open. She looked up. She didn’t recognize the face that was inches from hers.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “A friend,” the man said, lifting Lucy to her feet.

  Her head bobbed to the side as she tried to get her feet underneath her. “Whose friend? I don’t know you.”

  “We’re here to help you. Can you stand?” the man asked. He held her hand to steady her.

  Lucy nodded. “I think so.”

  She looked around for Sheena and Antonio. “Where are my friends?”

  “They went with Dean and Melanie to take their boy home,” the man said.

  “Oh,” was all Lucy could manage to say.

  She paused.

  “We lost people, too.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. We got here as quick as we could,” the man said.

  “Who are you?” Lucy asked again.

  “I’m Josiah. This is my boy, Taylor. We’re related to Dean and Melanie.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks,” Josiah said.

  “Are all the shooters gone?”

  Josiah nodded. “Yes. If you’re feeling better, we’re going to load up the dead and take them to the church so their families can claim them.”

  “You know them?” Lucy asked.

  “They’re local. Part of Jeb’s bunch.”

  “Should we be worried? About reprisals, I mean. They fired on us first,” Lucy said.

  “I can’t really say. I’ll have to talk to the sheriff. I think we should call a community meeting and get things out in the open. This isn’t who we are. But there’s a lot of scared folks out there right now, and with resources getting scarce, they’ll be desperate people soon. We can’t tolerate this kind of behavior. We have to do something,” Josiah said.

  “We saw a lot of scared and desperate people in the city, too. It won’t be long, and they’ll be swarming the countryside. I imagine you’ll be dealing with them as well,” Lucy said.

  “That’s what Jeb’s folks claim they were doing. They’re not willing to allow outsiders into the community. They vowed to run all strangers out by any means necessary, and they’ve talked some people into joining them, but there are others that don’t feel that way.”

  “I can’t say who is right, really. I can see both sides of the issue. Just know that our group didn’t come to cause trouble or take from anyone. We are here to contribute in any way we can. We’re good people. Not everyone that comes through here will be, though, so I can see how that would be a tough call.”

  Josiah lowered his head. “I know you’re right. It’s something we’ll have to deal with when the time comes. I just can’t abide killing. Murder is still murder.”

  “I think the lines are getting pretty murky on that one. Are you going to be willing to open your doors to strangers and give them your children’s food?”

  Josiah stared at Lucy and said nothing.

  “I’m sure that everyone here wants to do the right thing,” Lucy said.

  Josiah nodded.

  Sheena and Antonio arrived shortly after Josiah and his son had loaded the bodies of the three shooters into the back of their pickup truck. They carried Nick and Gage to the barn and placed a tarp over their bodies.

  “If it warms up enough tomorrow, we’ll bring the tractor by and help you bury them,” Josiah said as he climbed into his truck.

  “I appreciate that,” Lucy said.

  “You all might want to consider moving on. I can’t guarantee that this will be the end of it. The sheriff has had his hands full so we’ve kind of been on our own dealing with things like this.”

  “I’ll speak to my group, but really, we have nowhere else to go. Anywhere we head will likely be the same for us. Thank you for the heads up.”

  Lucy waved good-bye, then turned toward the house as Josiah backed down the drive. She wondered how long they had before the dead men’s families came to get their revenge. She looked down at the hole in her coat. Blood still caked her left hand. Her arm had begun to swell, and she was in quite a bit of pain now. She wouldn’t be very effective in a fight. She thought for a moment. The only uninjured members of the group were Sheena and DeAndre.

  We are screwed for sure.

  Lucy stopped at the front porch and stared down at the bloodstain in the snow where Nick had died. JJ had lost her brother. She was likely fighting for her life against the cartel and her father, brother, Scott, and Raine were trying to find her.

  “What a cluster…”

  “What?”

  Lucy looked up. Tom stood in the doorway.

  “Nothing. Where is everyone? We need to have a meeting.”

  Chapter 17

  The Ward Farm

  Farmington, Missouri

  February 23, Approximately 1:50 pm

  Antonio sat by the wood stove, rubbing his leg. Tom sat next to him with his back against the wall, staring at his feet. Lucy noticed that he’d put on his coat and boots. DeAndre had his head buried in his mother’s chest. Sheena rocked him gently and whispered in his ear. The kid’s shoulders shook as he cried. A knot formed in Lucy’s throat. She’d love nothing more than to run into her room, crawl in between the covers, and have a good, long cry. No one should have to go through what they’d been through, and it seemed there was no end in sight. She’d had to fight to survive ever since the EMP destroyed her car and left her on foot in St. Louis.

  The image of her own son at DeAndre’s age flashed into her mind. She was grateful that she wasn’t fighting to protect him at the moment. She pictured him, tall and lean. He’d be at her mother’s down in Arkansas, surrounded by his father’s brothers and cousins, tough, streetwise—ruthless people. They were predators in their communities even before the lights went out. Her son would be safe there, but what type of man would he choose to be? The man she’d raised him to be?

  “So? How are we going to fortify this place?” Brandon asked.

  Lucy glanced down to his foot in the chair across from him. His toes looked like sausages, his foot was so swollen. There would be no way he could run. He could barely walk. She pulled out a chair next to Sheena and placed her injured arm on the table.

  “That is the million-dollar question. Those men got through the defenses Jim and Aiden helped us set up. The early warning system worked, so we saw them coming. In the end, we stopped them from taking the house, but not before losing two people, and not alone.”

  “Three,” Sheena said. “We lost three. Dean and Melanie lost their teenage son.”
r />   Lucy nodded. “Yes.”

  “Here’s the deal. We are all injured, except for Sheena.”

  “And me,” DeAndre said, turning his head toward her. “I can fight.”

  Lucy smiled. “Yes, you can.”

  Sheena shot her a dirty look.

  Lucy turned toward him. “We will need you to protect the house. You’ll be our last line of defense. Okay?”

  “After we board up the broken windows, we need to set more booby traps and stop anyone from getting close enough to shoot at us. I found a bunch of fishing tackle in the barn. We can string a line of fishhooks at varying heights. The fishing line would be almost impossible to see for anyone running toward the house. We can make some more boards with nails and cover them with snow. If we can hold out long enough, Scott and Raine will be back with the others,” Brandon said.

  Lucy didn’t respond. From what they’d experienced so far, she didn’t hold out a lot of hope that they’d make it back to the farm.

  “How?” Lucy asked. “What more can we do?”

  “We have to set a twenty-four-hour a day watch on the road for one thing. Up until now, we walked the perimeter. Antonio and I can’t walk, but we can sit and shoot. So we should make a blind out at the road. We could hear any vehicles coming for a long way off.”

  “We’re out of ammunition,” Lucy said.

  “Dean gave us an ammo can full of bullets for the rifles,” Sheena said. “It’s in the barn.”

  Lucy nodded. “Okay. That’s great. That will help.” Dean providing them with valuable ammunition likely meant that he wouldn’t come to their aid again. They’d lost so much. Lucy couldn’t blame them. “What if they come at us from the back,” she asked.

  “I really don’t think they will. It’s hard terrain to cross and we have all that barbed wire and spiked hose all out there,” Antonio said.

  “You willing to take the risk?” Lucy asked.