The deputy was still wearing his service belt, even though everything useful, including the pistol and radio, had been removed. He walked over and unfastened the double buckle. The prongs narrowed a bit at the ends. They weren’t as thin as the point of a screwdriver, but they might fit the screw heads used in the shelving.
Holding his breath and almost sending up a prayer, he gave it a try. It was an ill fit, but by bearing down, he was able to accomplish about an eighth of a turn with every effort. As the screw loosened, it became easier, and at last the first screw was loose enough to be finished off by hand. Then he started on the second. Once that was out, it was on to the third, then the fourth.
Halfway through the final screw, he heard more movement overhead and the murmur of voices. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but it was a fair bet it had something to do with him and Mack. He redoubled his efforts and, after an eternity, managed to remove the final screw. He yanked on the support and it came away with a metallic screech. He had no time to worry about whether or not anyone had heard the noise, and instead rushed to Mack and stuck the metal piece between the chain and the pole. He twisted.
“Give me a hand,” he said, but Mack was already helping.
The support turned as far as it would go.
“Okay,” Shelby said. “Hold it steady so it doesn’t snap back and release the tension.”
Mack nodded. Shelby straightened, took a deep breath, and brought down his foot with a muffled roar. The chain snapped and the metal support, bent but victorious, clattered to the floor.
Shelby heard a voice shout, “What’s goin on down there?” Footsteps pounded.
Shelby picked up the broken chain and ran for the basement door, climbing the stairs as quietly as he could. The deadbolt clicked. At the last second, Shelby remembered the light and motioned frantically for Mack to pull the cord. The basement plunged into darkness as the door opened.
The guard stepped onto the stairs before he saw Shelby waiting in the shadows. The chain went around his neck and tightened. Shelby drew it tight and twisted so hard he thought he might sever the guard’s head. And he didn’t care if he did. Shelby lifted the guard upward to keep his heels from kicking the steps.
The guard choked and struggled, but it didn’t last long. With bulging eyes and tongue, a mottled face, and hands still clutching at his throat, the guard slumped to the steps. Shelby laid him down gently, quietly. He took the man’s gun and stepped over him to the door. He peered out. Another man stood near the front door. There was no sign of Gannon. Mack was at the bottom of the stairs, bent over Stevens.
“He’s out,” Mack said. “Still has a pulse, but it’s faint. He won’t last long.”
Shelby had a moment of moral conflict. He didn’t want to leave the deputy, but the reality of the situation was that chances of escape were much greater without an unconscious, dying sheriff’s deputy to slow them down. He looked at Mack, who looked back at Shelby with an expression that made it clear he was having the same struggle.
“We can’t take him,” Mack said. “We’d never make it. He looks like he’d die before we got him out of the house.
“I know it,” Shelby said. “But he’s not dead yet.”
“You want to drag him out of here?”
“I’d rather that than leave a man behind. Don’t forget, if we get out of this, we’ll have to live with ourselves.”
“All right, damn it.” Mack bent and hoisted the deputy’s body up and draped one limp arm around his neck. “I can’t help feel we tore up a death row pardon and flushed it down the toilet.”
Shelby looked out the door again. The guard had moved to the other side of the room and lit a cigarette. He stood, smoking and looking out the front window. But in a minute, he’d begin wondering what happened to his friend. Shelby eased out the door and paused when the top step creaked. The guard didn’t seem to notice but kept smoking and staring outside. Shelby stepped into the main room, feeling naked and exposed without the protective gloom of the basement. He trained the pistol on the guard’s back. He didn’t want to shoot—the game would be over if he did—but he wouldn’t hesitate if the guard turned around.
The guard didn’t turn around. Shelby broke his neck with scarcely more than the crunch of cartilage and bone. He retrieved the guard’s weapon and tossed it onto a nearby couch before moving back to the basement stairs to help Mack lug Stevens up. Then he took the guard’s place by the front window.
There were two other guards outside. Gannon Ellis paced the driveway, no doubt waiting for the first guard to bring the prisoners outside for reckoning. Gannon had his knife out and ran his thumb up and down the blade, as if measuring its face-skinning ability. He abruptly stopped pacing and looked toward the house. He squinted at the window and Shelby realized he could see his outline, though probably not his face. Gannon held his hands out and upward, in a “what the hell” gesture. Shelby gave him a thumbs-up. Gannon tossed his hands upward and resumed pacing.
“What’s the plan?” Mack said, his voice strained and breathless with exertion. He stood in the basement doorway, his arms wrapped around a bloody and slumping Deputy Stevens.
“You ask a mighty fine question,” Shelby said. “First, put Stevens down on the couch over there before you drop. Then come get one of these guns. We’ll shoot our way out if we have to. With two guns and the element of surprise, we might be able to pull it off.”
“Take out Gannon and they might give it up. I have a feeling he’s the only thing holding this together. Hell, they’re probably too afraid of the sonofabitch to buck him.”
“As much as I’d like to believe no one would follow Gannon out of pure loyalty, it’s not something I want to count on.”
Mack lay Stevens on the couch. He stood huffing and puffing, hands planted on his hips.
“Good God, I’m out of shape. Get us out of this, Shel. I’m going home and spending the rest of my life in a recliner.”
A voice cut in from behind them. “I wouldn’t get too excited about that recliner. You’re not gonna get to enjoy it.”
Shelby spun around. A man stood in the kitchen doorway. The gun in his hand pointed directly at Shelby.
“Get your hands up,” the man said. “And don’t move a muscle.”
“Which do you want?” Mack said, his voice tight with anger.
“What’s that?”
“You want our hands up or for us to not move a muscle?”
“Shut up and start talkin. How the hell did you get outta the basement?”
“You’re not too bright, are you?” Shelby said.
“I done finished high school, if that’s what you mean.”
“The hell you did.”
“Don’t you tell me what I did and didn’t do, mister! I’ll shoot you plumb in the face!”
“No you won’t,” Shelby said, taking a step forward. “You don’t have the balls.”
“I’ll shoot you, mister. I’ll shoot the hell outta you.”
“You won’t do anything. Because if you do, Gannon will learn we got out of the basement. You think he’ll let you walk after falling down on the job?”
“It weren’t my job to guard you, it was Al’s job. He’s the one who done messed up.”
“You think Gannon will listen to your excuses?”
The man’s eyes flicked from Shelby to Mack and back again. “I dunno.”
“You know him better than we do. You tell us.”
“Course he will.”
“You sure about that?”
“Gannon’s a fair man.”
“Was it fair that he cut off his own brother’s face?”
“You’re lyin, mister.”
“Am I?”
“That’s it, I’m tired of listenin to your lies. I’m gonna shoot and I’m gonna do it right now!”
A gunshot ripped through the room, almost deafening Shelby. He instinctively tensed, waiting for the impact of a bullet, followed by a moment of shock, and finally the sear
ing, burning pain. None of that happened. The man with the gun was on the floor. And the top of his head was gone. Shelby looked at Mack, but his friend hadn’t moved. Then Shelby looked toward the couch. Stevens lay there, eyes open and face ashen, a pistol in his hand. He gave Shelby a weak smile.
“Woke up—found a gun sitting there—couldn’t let him shoot you.”
“Holy shit—Dan…”
“Thanks for trying to save me, Alexander. It means a lot.”
“Lie still. We’ll get help.”
Stevens shook his head. “No…I’m done for. You better look lively. They’ll be coming for you after that shot.”
“Thanks, Dan.”
“Get the bastards.”
Shelby started to walk away, but Stevens grabbed his arm.
“Oh, and Alexander—”
Shelby turned back.
“If you get the chance, get the hell out of here. Don’t come back for me.”
“We’ll get you out.”
“Don’t be a fool.”
Mack touched Shelby’s arm. “Shel? We’ve got company.”
Shelby looked out the window and saw the guards and Gannon converging on the house.
“Lie back, Stevens.”
“Just get the bastards.”
“You got it.”
Shelby walked to the window and smashed the glass with the butt of his pistol.
“That’s far enough, Gannon. Don’t take another step.”
“That you, Alexander?”
“It’s me.”
“How’d you get outta the basement? That friend of yours with you?”
“He’s here. And we’re both armed. We’ve got you in our sights, Gannon. Tell your men to lay down their weapons or we’ll open fire.”
“Go to hell, Alexander.” Gannon turned to the guards. “Kill em.”
The guards took cover behind Deputy Stevens’ car and began sending fire into the house, targeting the windows and door. Gannon dove behind Shelby’s Jeep.
Both Mack and Shelby dropped to the floor and covered their heads against the violent spray of broken glass and sharp wood splinters. There was a grunt from Stevens. Shelby risked a glance and saw at least two shots had gone through the thin walls of the house, penetrated the couch, and finished off the deputy.
At least he wouldn’t suffer any longer, Shelby thought, and felt a new surge of anger course through his body. He wanted to stand up and, like Rambo, crash through the door and send these cretins to hell. But this was real life. If he stood up, he’d be cut down in a moment.
He glanced toward Mack, who was flat on his stomach by the basement door.
“It keeps getting better, doesn’t it?” Mack said.
There was a falter in the shooting and Shelby risked a quick look out the window. One of the guards was scuttling crab-like around the side of the house.
“They’re sending a guy around the back,” Shelby said. “Probably expect us to try to sneak out the back door.”
“That was my idea,” Mack said.
“We can still do it. As far as I know, there’s only one. They don’t know I saw him, so he’s only back there to set up an ambush. If we can turn the tables on him, we might be able to take him out and even the odds.”
“Let’s go, then. The more time we spend here, the worse our odds are.”
“Let’s move.”
Shelby and Mack moved through the kitchen toward the back door. Shelby paused to look out and saw the guard taking up position behind a woodpile.
“Bastard,” he muttered. “We probably would have gone right past that stack of firewood. He would have shot us in the back.”
“He’s already in position. How should we proceed?”
“We know exactly where he is, so we’ll take him on directly. We’ll keep a few yards apart and advance on him, keeping our guns trained on the woodpile. The instant he pops up, we take him out.”
They moved apart and began closing on the target, keeping their steps slow and measured so as to steady their aim. Once they were a few feet away, Shelby motioned for Mack to stop. They stood there, motionless, waiting. Without warning, the guard popped up, looking like a meerkat coming out of its hole. Shelby had only enough time to see the guard’s face register shock at seeing the prey turned predator before two bullets slammed into the man’s body. The guard shuddered at each impact. Then he twisted and fell over the woodpile, his body so limp it appeared boneless.
“That’s another one down,” Mack said.
“Gotta love progress,” Shelby said. “Let’s get around front before they catch us in the open.”
They moved quickly, still keeping their guns at the ready, until they were at the edge of the house. Shelby leaned around the corner and then jerked back as a shot burrowed into the siding inches from his face.
“Gannon! We got your man. It’s two against two now. Drop your weapon and we won’t shoot.”
“I’ll see you in hell first,” Gannon yelled back. “I’ll get you, Alexander. You and your friend. I’ll carve you all the way from your dick to your throat.”
Mack touched Shelby’s arm and then pointed toward the deputy’s car.
“Give me some cover fire. I’m going to rush that car. That’s where Gannon’s last man is hiding. If I can take him out, then it’s just Gannon.”
“You might not make it that far,” Shelby said. “That’s a fair distance. You saw what happened when I stuck my head around the corner. They’re waiting for us.”
“I’ll make it,” Mack said.
Shelby shrugged. “All right, then. I learned a long time ago not to argue with a crazy person. You ready?”
Mack nodded.
Shelby dropped to one knee and then swung around the corner, firing as fast as he could at the place where he last remembered seeing Gannon. Mack bent low and started running for the deputy’s car. Then he was there, sliding into cover at the front of the vehicle. And it was then Shelby realized he was shooting at nothing. Gannon Ellis was gone.
He looked toward Mack. The ex-policeman was braced against the car’s grill, his weapon at the ready. Shelby knew the drill. He would wait for a few seconds and then make his move: a pivot around the front of the car, a quick shot, and then back to his defensive position.
Shelby saw a movement from the tree line. At first, he thought it was Gannon but realized it was the final guard. He had moved. No longer behind the deputy’s car, he was now holding his weapon at the ready, waiting for Mack to show. At which point he would drop him with a single shot.
“Mack!”
But it was too late. Mack moved quickly, his gun fired—
Shelby emptied his clip at the guard. One hit, two hits…the guard spun from his position, his arms flinging upward and his weapon flying. Mack looked up and his face paled as he realized how close he’d come to dying.
Keeping one eye open for Gannon, Shelby ran toward the fallen guard. The man was still alive but fading quickly.
“Gannon,” Shelby said. “Where’s Gannon?”
The guard grinned and spat blood. “You’ll never find him. But he’ll find you. One of these days when you’re least expecting it. He’ll find you.”
“Where’d he go, dammit! Tell us and we’ll get you a doctor.”
“I don’t need no doctor. I’m through. And so are you, mister. Gannon’ll have your hide for sure.”
And then he was dead.
Shelby stood up and looked around the clearing. Everything was still. There was no sign of Gannon Ellis. He had disappeared.
26
The State Police wasted no time taking over the Ellis crime scene. Shelby and Mack were both questioned extensively. Mack’s connections with law enforcement helped tremendously and as long as they cooperated with the investigation, they were allowed to maintain a certain level of privacy. They even allowed Mack to return home, as long as he promised to report to the state police headquarters there in case he was needed for further questioning.
“I
hate to leave you, Shel.”
“Are you kidding me? I think you’ve seen me through the worst. The state guys are on it now. They’ve even taken over the dealer cabin. And Wilkes is lying low.”
“You still think Wilkes had something to do with all this?”
“I’m sure of it. Nothing I can prove, though.”
“So he’ll keep on being sheriff.”
“For now. As long as he stays out of my way, I really don’t give a shit anyway.”
“You never were much of an idealist.”
“I don’t like being disappointed.”
“What about Gannon?”
“If he hasn’t left the state, I’d imagine he’ll be picked up soon enough. You’ve done more than you ever had to, more than I ever had a right to ask. I can’t thank you enough.”
They embraced and then stepped back. Shelby looked at his friend with genuine affection.
“You’re a sonofabitch, Mack.”
“And don’t you forget it. Let me know if you need me to get you out of any more tight scrapes.”
“Sure. Drive safely.”
Mack got into his car and backed down the drive.
It seemed terribly quiet in the house after Mack left. Shelby busied himself around the place, cleaning and straightening, anything to keep his mind occupied. He was always ready to see company leave, but the resulting vacuum left him depressed. Maybe he’d ask Carly to drive out or perhaps he would make a trip in to the Barn Door. He got an empty trash bag from under the kitchen sink and shook it open. He filled it with all of the trash he’d collected from around the house, most of it accumulated during Mack’s visit, tied it closed, and then walked out to drop it in the can.
[Shelby Alexander 01.0] Serenity Page 13