Masters of Mayhem

by Franklin Horton

  “The one and only,” Conor replied.

  The bound man chuckled. “You’re the reason I’m here. You’re the reason I’ve left a trail of dead for over a hundred miles.”

  Barb and Conor exchanged glances.

  “If you were a hundred miles away, why did you bother coming to look for me?” Conor asked. “Why didn’t you just stay wherever the hell you were and leave well enough alone?”

  “Because I have a score to settle with you,” the man hissed. “It took me a while to figure out what happened but I know now you’re the reason my men never made it back. You’re the reason I didn’t have enough labor to keep my farm going. You’re the reason I lost it all.”

  As the awareness hit Barb that this was the man responsible for her kidnapping, she couldn’t contain herself. She lashed out and stomped the man on the groin. “And I’ll be the fucking reason your nuts will swell up like grapefruits.”

  The reaction was instant. Bryan grunted and rolled onto his side, contorting from the pain. He retched and threw up. Rather than finding a sense of satisfaction in the man’s discomfort, Barb only grew angrier. She lashed out with a foot again, kicking him in the kidneys. Bryan arched backward.

  Before Conor could stop her, Barb whipped a wicked blade from her belt and sat on Bryan’s chest. She stuck the knife to his throat, smiling when comprehension dawned on him. She yanked the hood off his head, forced a thumb under the tape, and shoved it upward. One wide, terrified eyeball screwed around to find her.

  “You see me, asshole?”

  Bryan didn’t nod, knowing any movement would force the knife into his flesh.

  “I was one of those women your people kidnapped. My dad came after me and, together, we killed every damn one of your men. We didn’t leave a single of those fuckers alive. And you know what else? We’re going to do the same thing to this bunch. The only question is whether you die now or you die with the rest of them.”

  Conor leaned forward and yanked the tape back down over Bryan’s eye. When Barb looked at him quizzically, Conor crooked a finger at her. He made sure the coast was clear and then led her outside, closing the dairy door behind them.

  “We kill him now, then we have to track down each and every one of his men individually. I think it would be better to let him go. He’ll be so pissed he’ll come after us.”

  “You don’t think he’ll turn tail and run?”

  Conor shook his head. “No way. His vanity won’t allow it. He’ll come. We’ll let him lead his men into a trap and we’ll get all of them. No one escapes.”

  Barb sighed. “It’s hard to let him go. We could end this today.”

  “That just ends it for you,” Conor said, “not for everyone. If we want it to end for everyone, we let him go now and take our revenge later. Think strategically.”

  “Fine. But I’m giving him a parting gift.”

  Conor looked suspicious. “Nothing that impairs his movement. I don’t want him having to go home and heal before he attacks.”

  Barb didn’t reply but pushed open the door. Before Conor could follow her inside, he heard the sound of three solid blows.

  “What did you do, girl?” he asked.

  “We needed him unconscious anyway,” Barb replied. “We couldn’t leave him here tied up. He needs to be able to find his way back to his men.”

  “I might have had more questions for him, Barb.”

  “You should have spoken up.”

  “Guess so.”

  Barb peeled the tape off Bryan’s head, grinning when some of his hair came with it. She rolled him over and cut the zip ties loose with her knife. When she sheathed the knife, she drew a permanent marker from a pouch on her gear. Conor insisted markers be part of their load-out so they could leave messages if they needed to. She used her sleeve to roughly scrub off Bryan’s forehead and then wrote a message there in big bold letters. Satisfied, she tucked the marker back in her vest.

  “What’s it say?” Conor asked, unable to make it out in the dim light.

  “I wear pink panties.”

  Conor shook his head. “Now if I had done that, you’d give me a lecture on how immature I was.”

  “You are immature,” Barb replied.

  Conor couldn’t hold back a smile. “How long do you think he’ll wear that before someone tells him?”

  Barb slipped into her pack and put a fresh magazine into her rifle. “Depends on how much of an asshole he is, I guess. Let’s go.”

  They dragged the limp body out into the light, then slipped off toward their horses.

  30

  While Barb and Conor were skulking around Tazewell, chasing down Bryan Padowicz, Ragus and Shannon were riding over the mountain to Johnny Jacks’ house to escort Doc Marty home. Ragus considered leaving Shannon at the compound but she wasn’t having it. She was up for an adventure and for seeing the country. She had no interest in sitting around the compound staring at goats.

  The day was cool but sunny, even making the leafless and barren terrain interesting to look at.

  “It reminds me of hiking in Italy,” Shannon commented.

  Ragus raised an eyebrow at her. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Never been to Italy?”

  “Never been hiking either.”

  “It’s just walking,” Shannon replied, “with more of an emphasis on enjoying the scenery.”

  “I’ve done plenty of walking,” Ragus said. “Usually just to get from one place to another.”

  Shannon asked lots of questions about the area and Ragus played tour guide, passing on what little information he had about this side of the mountain. He shared place names, family names, and stories about feuds. He talked about farms, coal mines, and mountain people in general.

  “It has to be hard growing up here,” Shannon said. “All that isolation.”

  “Not if you don’t know any different,” Ragus said. “It’s just normal.”

  “But isn’t it boring?”

  Ragus considered. “Sometimes. Don’t you ever get bored?”

  “I guess. But I think I’d really be bored here.”

  “I guess it’s what you get used to.”

  Despite their differences, Ragus found he enjoyed talking to Shannon. It was much more relaxing than talking to Barb. With Barb, he had to be constantly on guard. She was always turning the things you said against you or challenging statements you made. She wasn’t a person you could hold a normal conversation with. It was more like verbal jousting. Every exchange was confrontational, like a test. She was as dominant in conversation as she was in combat, and that meant talking with her wasn’t much more fun than fighting with her. It also meant he was usually on the losing end.

  Talking with Shannon, on the other hand, was enjoyable. It was a type of relaxed, mature conversation he’d never experienced in his life. As much as he enjoyed it, he couldn’t help but remember there was a point where it would end. Shannon and the Doc weren’t here to stay forever. At some point this would all end and they’d go home. He’d be left with Barb again, no peace and no mercy. It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on.

  “You okay?” Shannon asked.

  “I’m fine,” Ragus said, shooting her a quick, forced smile.

  “You just kind of trailed off there,” Shannon said. “One minute we were talking and the next you were staring off into the distance.”

  “No reason. Just thinking.”

  Shannon stared at him curiously but let it rest. Soon the conversation began to flow again and they lost themselves in it until they arrived at Johnny’s driveway.

  “We’re here,” Shannon announced.

  Ragus was almost sad the ride was over. It was the best time he could remember having in a long time. Perhaps ever.

  Shannon trotted her horse up the driveway with Ragus bringing up the rear. Though he’d made an attempt to maintain some level of awareness as he travelled, it hit him that he’d probably not paid as much attention as he should have. The fact that he’d been
lost in the conversation meant he’d surrendered some of his situational awareness. Someone could have been lying in wait for them. They could have walked right into a trap. The risks, the dangers, were everywhere. Conor had drilled that into him. So had Barb. Apparently, it all went out the window with a pretty smile. He would have to do better next time. This was a different world with different rules.

  Doc Marty was standing on the porch when they arrived. Shannon jumped from her horse and ran to hug him.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Doc Marty said. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Lots,” Shannon said.

  Doc glanced at Ragus, looking for further explanation.

  “Just another day in doomsday,” Ragus said.

  Shannon released her dad. “When Conor, Barb, and I got back to the compound, some people had come by and told Ragus there were men headed south. Bad men. Some kind of army, looting and killing. Conor and Barb went out to do some recon. They left us behind to escort you home.”

  “Conor apparently thinks I’ve gone soft,” Doc Marty said. “I just need to get my gear together and we can get out of here.”

  “How are the patients?” Shannon asked.

  “Jason will be fine. He’s still sore but his injuries aren’t life-threatening. I think we saved Johnny, but there’s always a possibility infection could set in. I left Jason and his wife with instructions for Johnny’s care. They know to come get me if his temp goes up and won’t respond to medications. He’ll be down for a while.”

  “That’s good,” Ragus said. “Do you need some help?”

  “Probably,” Doc Marty said. “I’ve got crap scattered out all over the place. Some of it I’m going to leave for them to use until Johnny’s better but most goes back with us.”

  Ragus climbed down from his horse and tied the pair of horses to the porch post. “Your horse ready?”

  Doc Marty shook his head. “I don’t have a clue how to saddle one of those things. I’d probably just get myself hurt.”

  Ragus laughed. “I’m not the best at it myself but I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks,” Doc Marty replied. “I’ll get Shannon to help me gather my stuff inside.”

  “Back in a few,” Ragus said, heading toward the barn with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

  “How was the ride over?” Doc asked Shannon as they headed inside the house.

  “It was great, considering the circumstances. It’s beautiful here and Ragus told me all about it.”

  Ragus smiled as he heard their conversation trail off. Maybe she’d enjoyed the ride as much as he had. Maybe she liked him as much as he liked her. Stop it, he told himself. You keep thinking like that and you’re just going to get yourself hurt.

  At the barn he slid open the rolling door and looked for the familiar horse, Bacon. Conor thought its coloring reminded him of a strip of bacon and Conor’s mind was never more than one degree off the topic of food. Especially bacon, biscuits, and sweet tea, preferably from Bojangles.

  “Hey, Bacon,” Ragus said.

  The horse perked its ears. Ragus found Bacon’s tack hanging outside his stall, with the exception of the saddle. It sat on a specially-outfitted sawhorse designed for that purpose, the saddle blanket folded neatly on top of it. Ragus swung open the gate and went inside with the bridle. In short order he had the bridle in place and led the horse out of the stall. He tied it off to a ring mounted on a post in preparation for saddling it.

  He threw the blanket across the horse’s back, talking to it all the while. He straightened the blanket, then heaved the saddle into place. He hooked the stirrup over the saddle horn to keep it out of the way while he strapped the saddle on. When it was done, he dropped the stirrup and stroked the horse. He’d never had any experience with horses until recently and the damn things were growing on him. They seemed to have all the best features of a dog, with the added bonus of being able to haul you around from place to place. If the world ever went back to normal, horses would be one of the things he missed.

  Ragus untied the reins from the ring on the wall, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and led the horse across the barn. It followed him out the door but began to act funny as he was preparing to roll the heavy door shut.

  “What is it, Bacon?” Ragus asked.

  The horse jerked its head, flaring its nostrils. Then a distant horse reacted with a whinny, apparently smelling Bacon. Ragus looked toward the house, expecting to find the noise coming from the pair of horses he and Shannon rode over. Instead, he found two horses that appeared to be completely ignoring them. Then there was another whinny, and this time Ragus didn’t think it came from the direction of the house. He scanned around him, then found the source.

  Riders.

  They were at the road and there were a lot of them. Maybe twenty to twenty-five of them, and they weren’t passing by. They were spilling through Johnny’s gate and headed straight toward the house.

  Shit!

  Ragus turned the horse and smacked it on the butt to send it back into the barn. He rolled the door back shut, hoping it would keep the animal contained, then took off at a run. Johnny’s driveway was long but probably not long enough that he’d beat them. The horses carrying those men were at a trot. Ragus had to do better than that. He pumped his arms and ran for all he was worth. His rifle bounced loose from his shoulder and he held it one-handed, more intent on being fast than being ready to return fire.

  His eyes flickered between the approaching men and the house. He was in the open. If they saw him and decided to shoot, he could do nothing but eat dirt and hope their shots went over his head. Halfway there, he heard a loud voice from the driveway. He looked and saw a man pointing at him. They’d seen him.

  He ran even harder.

  “Shannon! Marty!” he yelled.

  They couldn’t hear him.

  He was closing on the house, but so were the riders. Despite his best effort, they were going to get there around the same time, them hitting the front door just as he hit the back.

  “Shannon!”

  Then he saw her, coming out the back door with a stack of Marty’s gear in her hands.

  “Shannon!” he yelled.

  She looked at him, confused, then saw the look on his face and got scared.

  “Riders! Out front!” he gasped.

  Shannon dropped the gear and grabbed her rifle from her horse. “Dad!”

  Ragus was maybe thirty yards away now and knew the riders had to be arriving at the front. He tried to raise his rifle to a more combat-ready position but his body was jolting too much.

  Calm down, he urged himself. One step at a time.

  At the house, Ragus leapt for the back porch. His momentum, combined with his spent legs, made him misjudge the leap. He didn’t get high enough and he wiped out, catching feet on the lip of the porch and hitting hard on his side and his knees. His rifle went skittering across the porch and bounced off the house.

  Sensing he had no time to spare, Ragus rolled to his knees and crawled for the door, scooping up his rifle as he moved. He got to his feet and shoved his way through the screen door. He got a hand on the back door, slamming it shut and locking it. He was breathing too hard to form words, so he just stood there sucking air and watching. People were scurrying around—Doc Marty, Shannon, Jason, and Sam. Everyone had rifles and ammo. They were taking firing positions.

  “Hello in the house!” came a voice from outside.

  Ragus groaned. He wished Conor was here. As much as she frustrated him sometimes, he would even take Barb at this point. She would know what to do. She would find a way out of this. He had no clue what to do. He hoped someone else would start giving orders because that was the only way they were going to survive this.

  Fortunately, Doc Marty seemed comfortable jumping into that role. He was telling people where to go and what to do. He had them sliding furniture around to provide some level of ballistic protection if this went hot. He seemed completely at home in the stress of
the situation. It made sense; he came from a similar background as Conor. They’d been in the shit before and survived. He’d follow Doc Marty’s lead.

  “Hellooooooooo!” repeated the voice.

  Doc Marty moved to a window and flicked a curtain back, glimpsing outside. “You got a lot of men out there,” he said to Jason.

  “We can take them,” Jason whispered, straining to muster some bravado while still finding it painful to talk.

  “First question is do we need to take them out? If bullets start flying, everyone loses,” Doc said. “Grab a look. See if these folks look familiar to you at all.”

  Jason edged toward the window and took a glimpse out the forest green curtains. They were made of some obsolete pilled fabric that old women seemed to favor for curtains. Jason squinted and shook his head as if trying to clear it.

  “Well?” Doc Marty asked.

  “I think I might know them. Maybe,” Jason said. “My vision is still a little fuzzy but I think it’s the men who bought the horses off us.”

  “The men Conor assumed had attacked your family?” Doc asked.

  Jason nodded. “The very same.”

  “Let’s you and I go talk to them,” Doc said. “Shannon and Ragus, if this gets weird and I start firing, you shoot into the group. Look for anyone with a rifle raised in this direction and take them out but do not fire a shot unless I’ve already done so. Got it?”

  Shannon and Ragus, both wide-eyed with fear, could only nod in agreement.

  “I’m depending on you,” Doc said. “Jason, you ready?”

  Jason nodded.

  “Then let’s do this.”

  “What if they’re here to steal horses?” Jason asked, stopping abruptly.

  “We deal with this one problem at a time. And we make sure there actually is a problem before we get all bent out of shape.”

  Jason nodded again, breathing hard. “Okay.”

  Doc Marty unlocked the door and went outside first. He had a rifle cradled in his arms. It was a non-threatening position but he could whip it into firing position and on target in the blink of an eye. Jason came out behind him, standing to his right, a step back. He also had a gun in his arms, but appeared considerably more nervous than Doc Marty.