by Casey, Ryan
But then he’d heard the muffled shouts. He’d heard the cries. He’d heard the gunfire.
And he knew something was seriously wrong.
“What d’you reckon, boss?”
Jax looked at Beth, who stood by his side. She had that same look on her face as the rest of his people here in the woods, watching over, rifles in hand. A look of concern. A sense that something wasn’t right.
But Jax just stared into the distance. He looked at those flames. That smoke. Listened to those screams. To the gunfire. And he felt torn. ’Cause, on the one hand, he wanted to go down there and help. But on the other... he didn’t want to lead the rest of his people into some kind of massacre. He didn’t want death on his hands. Not again.
He thought back to Olivia. To how certain she’d been about their travels to Lancaster. About how hopeful she’d been. He always saw himself as an optimistic guy. Always saw the good in people. Always tried to believe in the mantra that nobody was bad, not inherently. People were just lost. They were just trying to find their way in life, trapped in shitty jobs, compelled by suffering.
But then he’d seen the way Harold just gunned Olivia down, right there, in a moment of sheer paranoia, and all he’d wanted from that point was revenge. He just wanted Harold to feel the pain he felt. The pain he fooled himself into believing he was beyond. The pain he’d tried to cut through with meditation, with philosophy, with ancient wisdom.
But pain was real. Suffering was real. Didn’t matter what you did in life to try and mask it. Didn’t matter how much you tried to run from it, tried to hide from it. It was real. And it was coming for you. Whether you liked it or not.
“Jax?”
Jax snapped back into the present. Looked around at Beth. He looked at the rest of his people standing here in the woods. The concern on their moonlit faces. Little Kevin, the youngest of their group, and his big brown eyes. The cries getting louder down there. Sporadic bursts of gunfire occasionally cutting trough the silence before dying down once again.
And he thought about Martin.
And about Ella.
He’d been unsure about Martin at first. Unsure about how trustworthy he was. And he still doubted his intentions. He knew for a fact Martin wasn’t his biggest fan, to put things lightly. How could he be? Jax knew what he’d done to Martin’s home. He knew what he was responsible for. It wasn’t right. But it was just. It was necessary.
And at least Martin was on the same page about Harold now he knew the truth.
They couldn’t think about what came after. There’d be time for that.
For now, they had to focus on dealing with Harold.
And it didn’t look to Jax like that was going so well.
He thought about Olivia. Thought about her goodness. About how she’d always calm him when he grew angry. About how she always made him laugh when he was sad.
And he looked down that hill, and he saw Martin and Ella differently.
He saw a father and daughter.
He saw two people who just wanted what was right.
And he knew he couldn’t just sit by and let this massacre unfold.
“We need to go down there,” Jax said.
Beth frowned. “But—”
“We need to help them. We can’t just leave them to die down there.”
Beth opened her mouth. Looked for a moment like she might protest.
But in the end, she just nodded.
Sighed.
“We’ll go down there,” she said. “We’ll help them. If that’s what you think’s—”
A bang.
Beth’s head flew forward. The back of her skull snapped from her head. Blood spurted everywhere. The light in her eyes flickered away, extinguished.
And then Jax heard more bangs, too.
More shouts.
More whimpers.
His people.
They were under attack.
He went to lift his rifle when he felt something press against the back of his head.
“I don’t think so,” a voice said.
And then he felt a crack against the back of his head and fell to the ground.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Martin stared at the flames and wished there was something he could do.
The darkness was thick and intense, broken only by the flickering flames swallowing up that pipe. He hadn’t seen anyone else climb out of it after him. Not Edgar. Not any of the others.
Not Ella.
And as he stood there and stared off towards Lancaster, he thought about Ella. How he’d been so close to dragging her out of there. How they’d been so close to escaping—together.
And they could’ve gone anywhere. They could’ve run so far away from this world. From all its responsibilities. From all its conflict.
But then someone snatched her away, right at the death.
He tensed his fists. Spat out a thick ball of phlegm. The smell of smoke filled the air. Burning. Barbecued flesh.
And he thought about racing along that pipeline. Or just going down to the gates of the shelter and confronting them, once and for all. Ending this, one way or another.
But then he heard that other voice in his head. The voice telling him to bide his time. To be careful. Because there was something he could take from this.
Ella. He hadn’t heard any gunshots after they’d taken her. They’d kidnapped her. Taken her back to the community, back to Lancaster.
She was alive.
He had to tell himself that.
He had to believe that.
He thought of Harriet, too. Oscar. Bruce. He cared about them. Damn, he loved them. He didn’t want to put them in danger. He didn’t want to throw them into any kind of jeopardy.
No. As hard as this was, as broken as he felt, as much as he wanted to go racing towards Lancaster and towards Ella, he knew he had to play this right.
He knew he was already in danger.
So he had to fall back on Jax.
He went to turn around to head back up the hill, back towards where Jax and the rest of the backup group were waiting, when he heard something over his shoulder.
He looked back at the burning pipe. Back towards Lancaster.
And he heard something.
Footsteps.
Footsteps coming his way.
He wanted to stand his ground. He wanted to fight. Shit, if they took him out fighting for his daughter, then so be it.
But then he grounded himself.
He reminded himself what he had to do.
Reminded himself he still had a chance.
He heard those footsteps and those shouts getting closer.
And then he turned around, and he ran.
He ran as quickly as he could, up the muddy hills. His legs shook. Sweat poured down his face. Nausea and anxiety clawed at his stomach, right through his body. He felt terrible for running away from Ella. From Harriet. From Oscar. From Bruce. Felt like he was betraying them.
But he was doing this for them.
Giving them the best shot.
Whether he liked to admit it or not, Jax and his remaining people were still his best shot.
He raced his way up the hill towards the trees. He lifted his hands above his head, waved, hoping to draw attention from one of them. He didn’t know if Jax had seen what’d gone down. He didn’t even know whether Jax was there anymore. He just felt alone. Very alone.
And he needed to get up this hill.
Fast.
He went to throw himself towards the trees when he heard a shout over his shoulder.
He looked back. Down towards that pipe.
Three people stood there. All looking up at him.
Pointing towards him.
Three of Harold’s people.
He turned back around. Headed into the woods. Disappeared behind the welcome camouflage of the trees. He wanted to lay low. He wanted to hide.
He wanted to find Jax.
He wanted to—
Footsteps.
A branch snapping somewhere nearby.
He spun around. Looked back towards Lancaster. Could still hear footsteps heading his way from afar. Shouting.
But this movement. It was nearby. It was closer.
He turned around. Walked through the dark woods. Branches snapped underfoot. Somewhere overhead, a bird got spooked and flew out of its nest.
But Martin kept moving towards that shuffling up ahead.
Holding his breath.
One step at a time.
He stopped.
Heard it right in front of him.
So close.
Just the other side of this tree.
He swallowed a lump in his throat.
Gritted his teeth.
And then he stepped around it.
He didn’t see the child at first. Only when he really squinted.
But when he did, every muscle in his body went numb.
The little boy. Kevin, he was called.
He lay back against the forest floor.
Bleeding from his mouth.
Gunshot wound in his stomach.
Martin’s body went numb. He threw himself down to Kevin’s side. Grabbed his hand. “Kevin. It’s—it’s okay. I’m here. I’m…”
And then he heard footsteps.
Movement.
Right behind him.
His stomach sank. He didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see.
But he had to.
He turned around, still holding on to Kevin’s cold, weak little hand.
And that’s when he saw them.
Jax’s people. Some of them dead. Some of them on their knees. Guns to their heads.
But in front of everyone else, Jax.
Sitting on his knees.
Hands behind his head.
Beaten. Bruised. Bloodied.
And standing behind him, pointing a gun to his head, Harold.
“Hello, Martin,” Harold said. “Long time, no see.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“How’re you doing, Martin? It’s been a while. We have some catching up to do, don’t we? As much as I hoped we’d never have to meet this way.”
Martin looked at Harold standing there, pistol to Jax’s head. He looked at the rest of Jax’s people. All of them on their knees. All of them disarmed. Some of them dead, too.
Including Kevin.
Little Kevin.
His cold hand going limp in Martin’s.
The true face of Harold, here for him to see.
“I mean, I thought I could trust you,” Harold said. “I thought you were on side. I thought you believed in our home. In our people. In what we’re doing there.”
“I believed in it,” Martin said. “But I didn’t know the truth. About Jax. About the rest of the people out here. The rest of the groups. About Ella. And about you.”
Harold sighed. He shook his head. People cried around him. Everyone was so frozen. So tense. Just waiting for chaos to unfold all over again. “You should never have come out into the woods, Martin. If you hadn’t... you could’ve been happy. You could’ve had everything.”
Martin shook his head. “You just don’t get it, do you? I came out here because I saw Ella. I came out here trying to help her. Trying to free her from some evil group you made us believe in. But that’s not the truth, is it? Because she was never in danger by this group. She was never in captivity. She was hunted. Jax’s people were hunted. So many others were hunted. And why? All because you just couldn’t open your doors. All because you just couldn’t trust.”
Harold shook his head. Kept that pistol to Jax’s head. The rest of his people—people Martin knew, people he thought he could trust—all standing around. All holding guns of their own. Waiting for the moment. Waiting for the signal.
“I want to hear it from you, Harold. I want to hear it from you. Because in spite of everything, I still don’t believe you’re an evil bastard deep down. I believe you want what’s best for that place, but you’ve just got lost along the way. But I need some convincing. I need to know.”
Harold looked into Martin’s eyes. Sweat trickled down his bald head, illuminating in the moonlight. He took a deep breath. Sighed. “I didn’t mean to turn into the man I’ve become. But when you have a place like ours—a place as special as ours—you do everything you can to hold on to it. You do everything you can not to let it slip from your grip. And we started running into people on the outside. Threatening people. People who would change our way of life. So I started to give the orders to take them out. Any of them who seemed like a threat. Anyone who might threaten our way of life. All of them. And it just... spiralled.”
“My daughter,” Martin said. “Ella. Did you know about her?”
Harold shook his head. “It’s not as straightforward as—”
“Did you know about Ella?”
“I knew about her,” Harold said.
Silence filled the woods. Echoed around the woods. “I could lie, but I knew who she was right away. Right from the day I saw her. Because she said something, that day I ran into Jax and his wife here. Something about her dad. Something about you. I didn’t believe it at first. I wanted her to just join us. To leave them behind. But she wouldn’t. She stood by them. Which left me with no choice. I didn’t want it to go this way. I hoped she’d turn her back on Jax and his people. That she’d find her way to us, somehow. But it wasn’t to be. And when she started involving herself in attacks on our people—on our home—I knew I had to rule with an iron fist.”
Martin shook his head. Hearing those words from Harold, they were damning. They were the words that he’d never be able to ignore. That he’d never be able to look back on. “You could’ve told me.”
“I had sleepless nights, Martin. Believe me. Deciding what was best. For you. For our people. In the end, I figured the less you knew, the better. Because if you knew... well. Look where we are now. Look how we’ve ended up. The impossible relationship.”
Martin stood there. He wanted to kill Harold. He wanted to tear his head off with his bare hands for keeping his knowledge from him—whatever twisted morals convinced him he was doing right.
“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the benefit of the community. For the benefit of Lancaster. All my life. You have to see that. I’ve made errors. I’ve made misjudgements. But you have to realise that. Don’t you?”
Martin looked into Jax’s eyes. He smelled smoke in the air; smoke from the burning pipe. He felt in the middle of a storm. Destruction unfolding all around him.
But he knew one thing for sure.
“I can’t ever forgive you,” Martin said. “For what you’ve done.”
Harold nodded. “That much I can understand.”
“And... and for this. There needs to be a change. No more secrets. No more shadiness. Stand down, Harold. Do the right thing and stand down. Your time’s up. The people have the right to decide their future, knowing everything they need to know. The full truth.”
Harold looked at the ground and sighed. He half-smiled. “You think you know what’s best for our community?”
“I know that if you don’t, I might be forced to take you out myself.
Harold shook his head. “I feared you’d say something like that.”
Then he looked over Martin’s shoulder.
“Cait? Harry? Bring them out.”
Martin frowned. He didn’t know what they were talking about. Not at first.
Not until he heard the shuffling.
The rustling.
He squinted into the darkness.
And then he saw them in the moonlight.
When he did, his stomach sank.
Harriet.
Oscar.
And Bruce.
Harriet and Oscar gagged with cuffs around their wrists.
And Bruce tied up and muzzled so he couldn’t escape.
“No,” Martin said.
A click. A click from Harold’s gun.
A look of regret on his face
. Sadness.
“Time to stop messing around here, Martin. It looks like you’ve got some big decisions about where your loyalties really lie.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Martin watched Harriet, Oscar, and Bruce struggle against their ties right in front of him, and he didn’t know how to react.
The moon shone down brightly. He could see all their faces. Jax’s face. Harold’s face. And Harriet’s and Oscar’s gagged faces, too. He saw Bruce, paws tied together, muzzled. Trying to bark. Trying to break free.
But stuck.
Trapped.
No escape.
“This isn’t how I wanted things to go, Martin. Harriet. Oscar. And poor Bruce. They’re good ’uns.”
Martin went to throw himself at Harold. “Get your guns away from th—”
A smack against his head. Tumbling to the ground. Mud splashing up in his face. The taste of dirt and blood on his teeth. He looked up. Pushed himself to his knees. Or at least tried to because it wasn’t long before he felt metal against his head. Before he heard a gun clicking. Someone behind him. Pinning him down. Stopping him.
And Harriet, Oscar, and Bruce so close yet so far from him.
He had to get up.
He had to help them.
He had to—
“You say you’ve no choice but to force some kind of leadership change. Well, I’m sorry, Martin, but you’re hardly in a position to be making demands like that. So I’ll turn the demands right back onto you. You step down. Right now. You accept defeat. You accept things aren’t going to work out between us. That you’re not going to be able to come back to Lancaster. You accept this act of generosity. Or I take all of them out, and you out, right here.”
Martin couldn’t believe he was hearing these words from Harold. Didn’t seem right. Didn’t seem like the kind of thing he even thought Harold was capable of saying.
But he shook his head. “Ella,” he said. “She’s back there. She’s—”
“She’s safe. Don’t worry. I gave explicit orders not to harm her while I was gone. We’ll look after her. We wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Unless... well. Unless you don’t agree.”