by Dave Bowman
“We stick to the plan. You still remember the plan, don’t you?”
“Of course, Bobby,” Rodriguez said.
The other men nodded their heads in agreement.
“And you remember what happens if you fail, right?”
Clark swallowed. But he, and the others, nodded.
“All right, boys. Let’s go have some fun.”
32
There was so much commotion in the cabin the first hour or two. Everyone was rushing around, getting food or water and all the things Bethany needed.
Mia sat in the corner of the bedroom, watching Bethany lean against the wall. She was having another contraction. Each wave of pain seemed to hurt her more than the one before. She made noises like a wild animal, grunting and panting.
Mia was proud of her. Bethany had become like a warrior, drawing on her inner strength with each new surge of pain.
But Mia was also frightened.
“You’re doing good, Bethany,” Trina said soothingly. She was standing at Bethany’s side.
Finally, the pain subsided and Bethany exhaled.
“I’ll be right back,” Trina said. “I’m going to bring you some more towels.”
Mia snuck out of the room behind Trina and cornered her in the kitchen.
“Is Bethany okay?” Mia asked.
“Well, having a baby is hard work,” Trina said. “But she’s doing well. Especially after everything she’s been through.”
“So do you think everything is okay with the baby?” Mia asked. “It’s normal to have that much pain?”
Trina nodded. “Oh, yeah. I sounded about like that when I was waiting for my epidurals. The nurses told me I was scaring the other patients.”
Trina looked down at the girl.
“Are you worried about her?”
Mia nodded.
“Try not to worry,” Trina said. “Everything will be fine.”
“But what if there are complications?”
Trina looked away. “We just hope and pray that there aren’t any. Anyway, complications are rare with someone like Bethany. She’s young and healthy.”
But her husband wasn’t healthy. He died from the Hosta virus.
Trina rushed back into the bedroom with the towels.
Mia looked at the bags that Matt and Charlie had brought in from the vehicles. She found the backpack she had taken from Garrison’s cabin and pulled it out of the heap.
Finally, she would have a chance to read through his notes. Garrison had said there was only a small risk of complications for a baby born to an immune mother and susceptible father. That was good news, she supposed, but Mia still had other worries.
Her only hope was the meticulous notes of a madman.
Charlie and Matt finished their third bowls of soup as the flickering candlelight made dark shadows on the wall. Everyone else had already eaten a bowl or two of the hearty, reconstituted soup. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink.
Finally, the nagging hunger was gone.
Bethany’s groans started up again from the bedroom. It sounded like she was in terrible pain. Charlie worried about her. He didn’t like to hear her in agony.
He looked at Matt.
“You think she’s okay?” Matt asked uneasily.
“I hope so,” Charlie said.
He stood up and looked at the bubbling pot of soup on the wood stove. He moved the pot to the counter and got a clean bowl.
“I think I’ll go carry some more food to Nick,” Charlie said. “He could probably use some.”
“Yeah, I was just thinking about getting some more water at the spring,” Matt said. “We’ll need a lot to wash the dishes.”
He grabbed several empty water bottles and threw them in a backpack.
“You sure you’re okay doing that on your own?” Charlie asked.
Matt nodded and grabbed a flashlight. “I’ll be fine.”
He looked up at Mia, who was sitting on a chair reading some papers by a candle.
“We’ll be back in a few minutes, okay, Mia?”
She looked up distractedly from her reading. “Okay. I’ll be fine.”
Jessa, Liz, and Trina were in the bedroom with Bethany. But one of the three women frequently appeared in the kitchen to get something or other. Mia wouldn’t be alone.
Charlie dished up the soup and walked outside behind Matt. As usual, each of them carried their weapons with them. The boy trudged off behind the cabin in the direction of the spring.
Charlie knew Matt was worried about Bethany. They all were. Even in the best conditions, having a baby wasn’t easy. And the abandoned cabin was far from the ideal location. Charlie hoped the whole thing would be over soon.
He set out to cross the distance to Nick’s guard station carrying the covered bowl of soup. He had to walk slowly to avoid spilling it.
It was a dark night. The faint glow of the stars was just barely enough to light his way on the path.
Charlie had rested enough. After delivering Nick the food, Charlie planned to take his own guard shift.
He wasn’t sure which location would be the most strategic. Maybe he would station himself behind the cabin in the woods. Or perhaps closer to the meadow would be better. He planned to ask Nick – no doubt he would have a good idea.
There was a big rock Charlie didn’t see in the road, and he stumbled over it. Before he could fall, he caught his balance. He managed to keep the bowl of soup steady without spilling it.
He chuckled to himself. His mom had always called him clumsy, and she had been right.
He set out again. Before he had gone ten paces, he heard a rush of movement behind him. His rifle was being pulled off his shoulder before he could even react.
The barrel of a gun was pressed into his back.
“Don’t move,” said a voice.
33
The water bottles jostled slightly in Matt’s backpack as he walked through the woods. The flashlight illuminated the way.
He was glad for the reason to leave the cabin. In the short time he had known her, Bethany had become something like a sister to him, and he hated to hear her suffering.
He walked down the hill from the cabin and continued through the forest. The smell of the pine trees reminded him a little of his home in East Texas. And just like that, all the memories came rushing back. Sometimes that was all it took – a smell or someone’s laughter or even just a word – and he became overwhelmed with nostalgia.
He supposed it was a good thing. He didn’t ever want to forget his family.
Matt arrived at the spring a few minutes later and dropped to his knees at the water’s edge. He took off his backpack and started to remove the bottles one by one.
Somewhere off to his side, a twig snapped. He froze.
Was someone there, watching him in the woods?
With his shaking hands, he began to reach for his shotgun. He stood up and clicked his flashlight off. He held his breath.
A dozen things seemed to happen at once. There was a grunting sound a few feet in front of him. He focused his attention in that direction. Footsteps behind him came out of nowhere, and a large person tackled him to the ground, knocking the shotgun out of his hands.
Matt lay panting on the ground. He looked up at the man who had tackled him. The man now turned the shotgun around on Matt.
“This is what you get for messing with the BSC,” he said.
Matt’s eyes went big with terror as he stared at the barrel of his own gun.
No!
The man to Matt’s side made a move. “Wait, Ferguson,” he said to his partner. “We’re not supposed to kill the kids, are we?”
Ferguson paused, his finger on the trigger.
“Is that what Bobby said?”
“I think so. He's bringing them back to Denver. He said we need more young recruits.”
The man holding the shotgun sighed in frustration. “Fine. I'll keep him alive. But I'm taking him back to the car where I can secure him.”<
br />
“Hurry up and get your ass back here so you can help with the rest of them.”
The man holding Matt's gun scowled at Matt.
“Get up. And if you run or yell, that'll be the last thing you do. You wouldn't be the first kid I shot.”
I blew it. I failed everyone.
Matt laced his shaking hands behind his head. He rose to his feet and walked in the direction the man indicated. They would be walking through the forest behind the meadow, far from everyone else.
The other man disappeared in the woods, headed toward the cabin.
Matt was in agony. The BSC had found them. There were probably several other men in the woods around the cabin. Maybe they had already gotten Nick and Charlie. And soon, everyone in the cabin would be killed or captured.
How can it all end like this?
Nick hoped it would be his last time to stand guard in this area of Colorado. After Bethany’s baby was born, he hoped to move the group out of the area as quickly as possible.
Soon, they would be back in New Mexico and out of gang territory. They would live with their friends from Los Gatos as part of a community. It wouldn’t be his little group against the rest of a world gone crazy.
He heard a faint noise in the road leading to the cabin.
Must be somebody coming to bring me some more food.
Earlier, Jessa had brought him his first serving of potato stew. They had crumbled bits of beef jerky in the soup, and the nourishment revived his body. When Nick refused her offer to take his place on guard duty in an hour, she promised someone would bring him another helping of food soon.
A second serving would hit the spot. The night was cold, and he had gone too long without eating that day.
He walked from his station in the woods toward the road where he had heard the noise. He looked down the overgrown path, expecting to see Jessa or Charlie carrying the food to him.
But the road was empty. He shrugged it off, figuring it was some small animal. He returned to his vantage point in the woods, where he could see the main road.
A gunshot rang out in the darkness.
The instant he heard it, adrenaline flooded his system. One word echoed in his mind.
BSC.
The bullet blasted into the tree he stood next to, striking just inches from his face. The bark shattered from the impact and sent slivers of wood flying.
He dropped to the ground. His heart pounded as he desperately looked around. Someone had fired at him from within the woods.
The gang had found him and his group. He knew it. Who else would have muzzle flash suppressors on their guns to keep their location hidden in the dark?
His thoughts instantly turned to the others inside the cabin, especially Mia and the women preoccupied with Bethany.
He had to protect them. He had to stop these ruthless attackers once and for all.
Nick shot several rounds into the woods. But the fire was quickly returned.
He ducked down, keeping low to the ground as he crawled through the forest in the opposite direction. The shots continued. He stopped behind a large tree and raised his rifle. He fired in the direction of the shots.
A second shooter began to fire at Nick from the side. Nick swiveled his rifle around to squeeze off several rounds in his direction as well. But he just couldn’t see them. They were too well hidden; the night was too dark.
Then, he heard other shots. Someone was shooting outside the cabin.
Bullets flew past his head. There were too many near misses. He couldn’t fend them both off. It was just a matter of time before he would be shot.
He kept returning fire, hoping to hit someone.
But in those few seconds, a part of him knew it was no use. Everything was lost. The BSC had tracked them down. If they had two men shooting at him, how many did they have surrounding the cabin?
He gritted his teeth and kept pulling the trigger. He wasn’t going down without a fight.
34
Charlie and Matt had been gone for too long.
“Mia, go wait in the bedroom,” Jessa said.
Jessa picked up her rifle and looked out the front window.
“I’m going to go look for Charlie and Matt.”
Mia nodded and carried her papers into the back room, closing the door behind her.
Jessa stepped outside. She thought about turning her flashlight on, but decided against it. She had that sick feeling in her stomach again, and she needed to take every precaution.
She descended the front porch steps quickly, then looked around. No sign of Charlie or Matt anywhere.
She rounded the corner of the cabin and set off through the forest toward the spring.
Suddenly, the sound of gunfire stopped her in her tracks. Before she could react, more shots echoed through the woods. Two people were shooting at each other. Then, it sounded like a third gun was being fired.
And it was all coming from Nick’s location.
They found us.
Jessa wheeled around. She had to go help Nick.
But before she could take off running, a bullet shot past her and hit the ground a few feet from where she stood.
They had found her, too.
She saw a dark figure a good distance away, hiding in the woods. Bringing her rifle up and wedging it against her shoulder in one swift motion, she fired in his direction.
She missed.
Everything was going according to plan. Bobby’s patience had paid off. One by one, the unsuspecting visitors from New Mexico were leaving the shelter of the cabin. The remoteness of the mountain location had lured them into a false sense of security. They had let their guard down.
He had three of his men taking care of the targets that left the cabin. The other two he had charged with dispatching of the women and child inside the cabin.
Now, Bobby would have the pleasure of killing the leader of the group. Nick. The man responsible for taking down so many of Bobby’s men. Finally, Bobby would get his revenge. He’d put an end to this little group. It would be a lesson for anyone who thought they could outsmart the BSC.
Bobby always came out on top.
He and Clark had Nick under their fire. But somehow, he was dodging the bullets. The man seemed to be blessed with a lucky streak.
And then, Clark was hit. Bobby knew the instant he fell. Bobby cringed as he heard the gurgling sound of blood issuing from his throat.
Bobby didn’t waste any time. Keeping low to the ground and hidden in the brush, he quickly crawled several yards away. Unaware that Bobby was mobilizing, Nick fired several more rounds in Bobby’s original direction. When Bobby was out of range of Nick’s shots, he silently pushed himself up to his feet and set off running.
He made a wide arc through the woods. He was counting on Nick to play it safe. Nick wasn’t the type to get up and run as soon as the shooting stopped. Nick was the type to wait.
Bobby’s wager turned out to be correct. When Bobby circled back in the direction of Nick’s position, he saw his enemy waiting. Nick had no idea that Bobby had snuck up behind him. He didn’t hear Bobby raise his rifle and aim.
Revenge is so sweet.
“Don’t move,” the voice had said to Charlie moments before as he carried Nick’s food.
Charlie froze.
“Walk into the woods,” the man muttered in a low voice. He pressed the pistol into Charlie’s back, urging him forward. They disappeared under the cover of the forest.
“Stop here,” the man ordered.
Charlie froze for just a second. It was just long enough to make his attacker think he was giving in.
With explosive force, Charlie twisted to the side, knocking the man’s hand back with his elbow. The pistol and rifle fell to the ground.
As he twisted, Charlie tossed the scalding soup in the man’s face. Burned, the man grunted and recoiled.
Still holding the ceramic bowl, Charlie smashed it over the man’s face. The man stumbled backward, his hands covering his head
in a protective gesture.
Charlie’s eyes flashed at the handgun and the rifle. Both weapons had fallen to the ground behind the attacker.
Charlie had no time to reach for them.
Instead, he pulled his fixed blade knife from the sheath he wore at his belt. He leapt at the man and drove the sharp blade into his belly. The man grunted in pain, and Charlie withdrew the knife.
The man lunged at Charlie, but Charlie jumped out of the way. Before the man could spin around, Charlie drove the knife into his throat and dragged it across his neck.
The man fell to his knees. He died quickly.
Charlie picked up his rifle and ran through the woods just as someone opened fire near Nick. He had to hurry.
His legs were burning, but Charlie pushed himself forward. As he neared the end of the small road and the intersection near Nick’s station, the shooting stopped.
Was that a good or bad sign?
Charlie’s heart beat like a drum.
He ducked into the woods. He had to take cover. Out on the road anyone could spot him easily.
He tore through the forest, ignoring the pain of his injured shoulder or the scrapes and gashes he got on his arms from the stray branches that he brushed up against as he moved.
The only thing that mattered was getting there in time.
As he rounded a large ponderosa, he came upon a scene that made him stop in his tracks. Nick was lying on the ground up ahead, and a few yards behind him a man raised a gun and aimed at his back.
Without pausing, Charlie pulled his rifle up and switched off the safety in one seamless motion. The man must have heard him, because he turned to look in Charlie’s direction. His eyes were wide. His shoulder jerked frantically as he tried to turn his gun around on Charlie.
But it was too late for the guy.
Charlie took him down with one shot. His rifle fell to the ground beside him.
Nick whipped around and took in the scene as he sprang to his feet. He looked at the man lying on the forest floor, drawing in his last breaths. The dying man’s eyes stared straight up into the night. His lips moved soundlessly, trying to form words.