Ultraviolent: Book Six in The Mad Mick Series

by Franklin Horton

  Conor heard a chorus of crackles as each radio in the barn received a transmission at the same time. It was a young man's voice and Conor heard fear. He immediately knew where that fear had to be coming from. Barb had ignored his instructions to stay out of this.

  "Dad, there's a girl here at the outpost with me. She wants to talk to you."

  Jim spoke into his radio. "A girl?"

  Then Conor heard his daughter's voice through the tinny speaker of the cheap radio. "I believe you have my father. It's making me a bit nervous to have you conducting your business in a place where I can't lay eyes on him. Can you guys move your conversation outside where I can better monitor the situation? Doing so will ensure that I don't have to stick a knife in this lad of yours."

  "Dammit!" Jim barked. He leaned into Conor's hooded face and growled, "So much for civility. I think the chances of you walking out of here just went way down."

  Conor didn't reply. He knew exactly what had happened. The longer Barb had sat there unable to see what was going on inside the barn, she'd worked herself up into a frenzy. The only way she'd known to get information was to extract it by force, using the man's child as leverage. Now the terms of this interaction had changed. It was no longer a congenial conversation. Jim Powell was right. The odds of this ending peacefully had just diminished. Now the only question was who'd be left standing when the dust settled.

  33

  The Valley

  Russell County, Virginia

  Barb had spotted the sniper hide when she was creeping around looking for a way to see inside the barn. After watching the outpost a little while she determined there was only one occupant, a young boy. She lured him out in the simplest of manners, using a technique so simple that the boy would likely be embarrassed to ever recount it. She'd tossed tiny stones near his hide until he came out to investigate. When he did, she took him to the ground before the lad had even understood what was happening to him.

  Standing over him, she leveled her gun on his face and grinned. "Feel like a fecking idiot now, don't you?"

  He nodded in terror.

  "I need you to reach out to those folks down below using your radio there. Then we're going to take a little walk."

  He did as she asked, though when she relayed her threat to stick a knife in him, the boy looked a little scared. It was an appropriate response. She didn't want to kill the boy but he was a combatant and this was war. Until she knew her father was safe, nothing was off the table.

  She told the man in the barn to get her father outside where he could be seen. While she waited for them to comply, she flex-cuffed the boy and tied his shoelaces together, giving him just enough length to shuffle along if she needed him to walk. "What's your name, lad?"

  "Pete."

  "Listen, Pete, that's my old man down there in the barn. He and I are pretty close. I'm sure you understand. He surrendered himself to the folks down there because he wanted to have a little talk with them. They've been in there a while and it's making me a bit itchy. I was supposed to let it play out but I just can't do that. I need to be able to see what's going on. I need to know my dad is safe."

  "You don't have to do this," Pete said. "After what happened last night, we have people stationed all over this valley. There's no chance of you getting out of here unless we let you go. If people think you might hurt me, they'll shoot first and ask questions later."

  Barb laughed. "You best not threaten me, little boy. It's you who have no idea who you're messing with. I've killed more men than you have fingers and toes. My dad there has killed even more than I have. Maybe more than all the fingers and toes in this valley put together."

  Pete looked even more scared now, the weight of her words having the desired effect. "Who are you people?"

  Barb hooked a hand under Pete's armpit and helped him to his feet. "You have anything you're really good at, kid?"

  "I'm a sentry. I like keeping watch on my family and make sure people are safe."

  "You screwed the pooch on that one. That hide of yours has too many blind spots. Then you fell for the dumbest trick in the world."

  Pete was defiant. "Maybe I'm not the best at it but I try to be."

  "If we were on better terms that's something I could help you with, but we're not. Anyway, my point is that this is what we do, my father and I. We're not farmers, we’re fighters. We train every day and we don't scare easily. You think the two of us would show up in your valley if we were worried about the consequences? We're not."

  "You seem worried about your dad," said Pete.

  "That's different. I didn't like the situation so I did something to change it. If you think you people are in control, you're mistaken. This is our show, kid. Our ball game. If there's a minute where you think you guys are in control, it's because we let you think that."

  "Where are we going?" Pete asked. He had no more interest in talking with this woman. He had no idea what she was talking about, other than trying to twist things around and confuse him.

  "We're getting a little closer to the action. I need to see what's happening down there. You're my leverage. If they start getting mouthy and uncooperative, I might have to make you scream a little bit. Screams carry a long way and get everyone's attention. People suddenly go from being assholes to doing exactly what I need them to do."

  Pete went from being scared to terrified. As much as he was afraid of what she might do to him, he knew she was right. If he started screaming in pain, his dad would do anything they wanted.

  34

  The Valley

  Russell County, Virginia

  Jim removed the padlock from Conor's chain and marched him through the rolling doors into the barnyard. Randi slammed down a folding chair and stepped back while Jim escorted Conor to it. He helped the man sit down so he didn't miss the chair.

  Jim raised his radio. "Happy now?"

  "Ecstatic," came Barb's snarky reply.

  "Then how about you send my son on down here to join me? You can stay hidden up there and keep an eye on things if it makes you feel better."

  "I think not," Barb replied. "Your boy and I are just getting to know each other a little better. Who knew we'd hit it off so well? I think he's going to hang out with me until we're done here."

  Jim snarled a curse and stalked back to Conor. "So much for goodwill, asshole. If she hurts my son, you both die and I make it hurt."

  Conor couldn't help but flash back on all the times he'd used those same words and meant it just as much as Jim Powell did. "Easy there. We still control the pace here. Nothing is so far gone we can't rein it in."

  "We'll see about that."

  "You sound a lot like me," Conor mused. "Threatening to kill us and make it hurt. I could swear I've used that line before."

  "Did you mean it when you said it?"

  Conor nodded beneath the pillow case. "Indeed I did."

  "Then assume I mean it too."

  "I have no doubt that you mean it and are capable of carrying out your threat. Let's just keep this to a low boil and things will be fine."

  Jim's radio crackled and another voice came through the speaker. "Rotate!"

  "That's Charlie!" Randi said.

  The word "rotate" was their code for switching their radios to a secondary channel so they could speak in private. Everyone in their group would know what that meant, but the strangers, like the woman holding Pete, would not.

  Jim switched his radio to the backup frequency. "What is it, Charlie?"

  "I see Pete and the woman in the field. I've got a clear shot on the woman. I can take her." His voice was urgent, excited. The teenager had been difficult to control lately, sometimes making rash decisions that backfired on the group. He sounded ready to do it again. Jim's son was Charlie’s best friend and he'd gladly kill to save him.

  "Dammit," Jim spat. He keyed his mic. "Do not take that shot, Charlie. Stand down right fucking now. I've got this. Do you understand me?"

  "I understand that this woman is threa
tening my friend and I can fix this," Charlie replied.

  "Charlie!" Jim snapped.

  "Do not let him take a shot at my daughter," Conor said firmly. "Control your people."

  Jim ignored him. "Hugh, you out there?"

  "Go for Hugh," came the immediate response.

  "Get on Charlie right now! Do not let him take that shot!"

  "On it!"

  "Charlie," Jim growled into radio, "I'm warning you, kid. Do not take that shot. I've forgiven a lot of things, but you take this shot and you're out of here." He released the mic button and listened but there was only silence.

  "Warn her!" Conor growled. "Get back to her frequency and warn her right now! If she dies, I kill every man, woman, and child in this valley."

  Jim didn't respond. He was already switching frequencies to do exactly that. When he landed on the correct one, he keyed the mic. "Get down! Get down! Get down! Pete, tell the woman to get down! Charlie is going to take a shot. He's not listening to me!"

  Jim halfway expected the woman on the other end of the radio to say something but she didn't. No one said a word. It was dead silence.

  The shot startled everyone.

  Jim flinched. Randi cried out, then whispered Charlie's name. She understood that what Jim had said moments ago was right. Charlie was reaching the point where he was more of a liability than an asset to their group. They'd lost him.

  Conor shot to his feet and roared, the cry of an injured bull whose world was exploding with pain. He charged toward Jim, though his ability to launch an attack was limited by his hood and his bonds.

  Jim acted out of reflex, swinging with his radio and clouting Conor across the face with it. The radio shattered and Conor went down, blood spreading across the front of the pillowcase.

  35

  The Valley

  Russell County, Virginia

  Hugh and Charlie had been stationed on a low, wooded hill that sat across from Jim's house and within sight of Pete's outpost. After getting Jim's call on the radio, Hugh tore from his position and ran for Charlie with everything he had. The young man's hide was maybe three hundred feet from his position. It wasn't an insurmountable distance, but the land between them was dense with undergrowth. The mountain had been logged a few years ago and was now a maze of briar thickets, stumps, and slash piles of logging debris.

  As he ran, Hugh shouted into his radio, imploring that Charlie stand down. He got no more response than Jim had. When his polite but urgent requests got no response, Hugh made threats. "You do this and we're done, kid. You'll be dead to me. If you can't follow instructions and be part of the team, we don't need you."

  Still no response.

  Hugh cursed and shoved the radio into his pouch. He leapt a culled log, nearly twisting his ankle when he came down on a rock. He'd covered half the distance but it felt like it was taking forever.

  "Charlie!" he bellowed, no longer using the radio. "Answer me!"

  Nothing.

  "Dammit, Charlie! Stand down!"

  Then the boom of Charlie's rifle caused him to break stride. Hugh released a cry of rage.

  "Charlie!"

  Hugh caught the main trail shortly after hearing the shot. Seconds later he was bearing down on Charlie's position. Ahead of him, he could see the young man stretched out on a scrap of tarp he was using for a shooting mat. He looked like he was preparing to line up his next shot.

  "Charlie!"

  Charlie whipped his head around at the sound of Hugh crashing through the underbrush. Hugh expected to see fear in those eyes, perhaps even remorse, but all he saw was rage. It was the same look Hugh had seen in the boy's eyes before when he'd been ready to kill for Jim Powell and his family. The boy had lost everything in this disaster and Jim's group had taken him in. The clan as a whole had raised him like one of their own.

  Charlie dropped his eye back to the scope, perhaps hoping he could still find the opportunity to send the shot before Hugh reached him. Seeing his determination, Hugh leapt into the air, diving for Charlie. He landed hard on the younger man, the impact stunning both of them, knocking the rifle loose from Charlie's hands.

  "Hey!" Charlie yelled.

  Hugh took the rifle, got to his feet, and engaged the safety as he threw it to his eye. He scanned Pete's outpost through the scope, trying to see if Charlie's shot had hit his mark. Before he could determine what had happened, Charlie latched onto the rifle and tried to pull it from Hugh's hands.

  That was the final straw for Hugh. He spun and threw a punch, catching Charlie on the cheek and knocking him on his ass. The boy grunted as he hit the ground, rubbing his face. Hugh didn't have time to feel bad about hitting the boy. The stakes were too high.

  He stepped away from Charlie and resumed his scan of Outpost Pete. He finally spotted Pete in the high grass, struggling to crawl to safety with his hands and feet bound. Hugh moved the optic in a wider circle and found the woman who'd captured Pete's position. She was on her back but she was moving. It looked like her bulky chest rig held plates and they may have just saved her life.

  Hugh yanked his radio free and keyed the mic. "Jim, the girl is hit but I think she's still alive. It looks like she took one to the armor but she's moving. I'm heading in that direction. She's got Pete tied up."

  "Roger that," Jim replied. "I'm staying with the prisoner but Gary and Randi are going to head that way too."

  "Acknowledged." Hugh pocketed the radio and turned back to Charlie, still lying on the ground and rubbing his swollen cheek. "You fucked up, kid. I don't know if there's any coming back from this."

  Hugh kept Charlie's rifle and sprinted off to his original hide. He untied his horse from a scrubby bush, climbed aboard, and headed for the logging road that led off the hill. It was too rough for a full out gallop but he pushed his horse to move as quickly as possible. There was a good distance between him and Pete and that distance hung over him with the gravity of a nearly immoveable weight.

  36

  The Valley

  Russell County, Virginia

  Pete had frozen in terror when his dad's voice came through the radio, shouting for them to get down. He was yelling so loud his voice was distorted, the words nearly indecipherable. Pete was more than a dozen feet from Barb, watching her study the farm below them through her scope. His dad's barking voice caught him so off-guard he was uncertain of what to do. Then, when his dad finally used his name, warning him that Charlie was going to take a shot, he understood.

  Everything happened in slow motion. The woman turned her head toward him, just as confused as Pete about what was going on. When Pete finally understood, he had his mouth open, trying to find the words, but the shot came before he found them.

  There was a powerful snap and the woman's body jolted even before the report of the rifle reached them. She fell backward, the radio flying from her hand. She landed hard, nearly at Pete's feet, and he saw the smoldering hole the round punched through her chest rig. He didn't see any blood but that meant nothing to him. In all that gear, it could be running around her back and pouring into the ground. He couldn't imagine anyone surviving what he'd just watched.

  Pete cried out in fear, then backpedaled, falling on his butt in the high grass. He was torn between the horror of seeing this woman killed in front of him and the expectation that there could be a follow-up shot coming in his direction at any moment.

  "The radio," Pete muttered, rolling over to his knees. He raked his bound hands through the grass, trying to find the radio she'd lost. He could tell Charlie to hold his fire and let his dad know the woman had been hit.

  He heard a groan from behind him and spun in horror. In the past year, he'd learned that sounds like that never meant anything good. He'd heard the wheeze and crackle of those already dead. He'd heard the gasps of dying. He'd heard the imploring prayers of the severely injured. This woman was moving, whimpering as she sucked in pained breaths.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question but uncertain of what e
lse to say.

  Her whimpering grew in fury until it became a snarling rage. She pushed herself to a sitting position, her back arching as bolts of pain shot through her chest. She sucked in a couple of deep breaths and scanned the ground around her before finding what she was looking for. She picked up her rifle and raised it to her eye, looking for the barn.

  Barb hitched a sharp intake of breath as her optic picked up the image of her father lying in the dirty barnyard. The sack over his head was saturated with blood. Had they shot him? Bludgeoned him? Stabbed him in the neck?

  "Fucking bastards!"

  "What?" Pete demanded.

  She twisted in his direction, gritting her teeth and flinching against a sudden spasm of pain. "They killed him. They killed my father. He gave you people every benefit of the doubt, every opportunity, and you killed him."

  Pete had no idea what she was talking about. He'd never seen this woman or her father before. What opportunity had they given them? And though he had no understanding of what this woman was saying, he clearly understood her intentions. She awkwardly rolled onto her belly and shoved the rifle ahead of her. She was lining up a shot.

  Pete knew this shot was intended for someone he knew and cared about, likely his father. "No! You can't do this!"

  "The hell I can't," Barb hissed. "When I leave here today, I'll leave nothing but corpses and ruin."

  She proned out and rested the handguard of the rifle in her palm. Her eye aligned with the scope and the sound of the selector moving to the Fire position was as loud in Pete's ears as the pounding of his heart. He couldn't let this happen.

  He rolled onto the balls of his feet and launched himself onto Barb. He landed high on her back and looped his bound hands over her neck. While it may have looked like an efficient attempt at a chokehold, it was as much luck as anything else. Pete had no training at all and was now locked onto the back of someone who'd been practicing martial arts longer than he'd been alive.