“You don’t have to thank me,” Jim replied. After a pause, he added, “Okay, maybe you do have to thank me. I prefer it to be in the form of a pie or cobbler. We can work out the details once you get settled.”
Gary grinned. “If you wanted one of my wife’s pies all you had to do was ask, Jim.”
“Okay, I’m saying,” Jim replied. “I’ll see you when you get here. Out.”
Gary signed off, turning off the radio to conserve batteries. He would turn it back on in the morning and keep it on until they got to Jim’s house. He stared out the window, watching the tree line, trying to catch a glimpse of anything out of place. At this time of day, with the angular light casting long shadows, it would be hard to detect someone hiding, especially someone in dark clothing hidden back in those shadows. Especially someone with a mask.
“Dinner’s ready, Dad!” Karen called from the bottom of the steps. It would be their last meal in this house for who knew how long. He turned away from the window.
Had he lingered there a moment longer, he might have caught the movement, the shadow that was not a shadow moving among the trees.
*
A watch schedule was agreed on by the end of dinner. With their long, hectic day, time had crept up on them and the sun was already setting. Everyone was exhausted and lethargic. Muscles were sore and stiffening. Even the children were fussing and over-tired. Gary bagged the dinner trash and set it outside the back door. He normally wouldn’t do that because of animals getting into it and scattering it around the yard. Now, he thought it might not matter. Let the animals tear into it, let the wind blow it – he didn’t care. All the cooking gear and uneaten food was packed into the vehicles. In the morning, they would not eat until they arrived at their destination. The goal was to leave as quickly as possible, before most of the world awoke.
Will and Sara would take the first watch of the night and be on duty until midnight. Dave and Charlotte would take the second watch, from midnight until 3 a.m. Gary and Alice would come on at 3 a.m. and stay on until the whole group bugged-out. Debra and Karen would not pull a shift as they were staying in a room with the children, both of them armed and the door to the room locked.
Gary had spent some time discussing his watch plan with Will. Their goal was to make sure no one approached the house and no one stole the vehicles. Their lives were in those vehicles now. Gary had even thought about sleeping in the truck but knew that he needed to get at least a few hours of comfortable sleep if he could. The next best thing was to place the female guard of the team on top of the box truck armed with a shotgun. It would give them a high point where they could see all the vehicles and a good part of the yard. Hopefully it would also keep them out of the way if things went bad. The male guard’s duty would be to walk a circuit around the house and vehicles.
Gary still had the body armor he’d worn on his trip home. While it was not as substantial as a military-grade plate carrier, it was all he had. It was better than nothing, and he planned that each man on foot patrol should wear it. When he explained this to Dave and Will, they disagreed.
“I won’t wear a protective vest when my wife doesn’t have one,” Will said.
“Same here,” Dave agreed.
“The women will be in a concealed position,” Gary said. “They’ll be out of sight on top of the truck. The man on patrol will be the one exposed to fire.”
“Not going to happen,” Will said.
“Nope,” Dave said. “Not going to happen.”
After Gary relented and agreed that the women could wear the vest, they developed four patrol patterns that the man on foot duty was to utilize. Each was assigned a letter from A to D. Each shift, the first pattern walked would be the A, then the B, then the C, then the D. Then B-B-C-D, followed by C-B-C-D and D-B-C-D. Although Gary and Will had no training in tactics, they knew it was important that the patrol be randomized and less predictable while still systematic enough to cover all the ground that needed covering.
Gary hated to expose anyone to the danger of patrolling the property but he didn’t know what else to do. His biggest fear was of someone setting the house on fire with all of them inside it. Someone had to keep watch and he didn’t know of any safe way to do it. He didn’t want the foot patrol to go too near the bushes or anywhere else that someone might be lying in wait. At the same time, having them keep away from cover forced them to walk in the open. Even though he’d instructed them not to use a flashlight unless they absolutely had to, there was still enough of a moon that anyone out walking in the open would be silhouetted by it. Despite his unease, he didn’t know what else to do. He was nearly dead on his feet with exhaustion. They only had to make it another ten hours or so and they could hopefully start over in a more secure location.
*
The first shift went off without a hitch. At midnight, Sara climbed off the roof of the truck box using the blue fiberglass ladder that Gary had left for that purpose. She went inside and woke her sister and Dave. In less than five minutes, they were out in the cool night air, switching places. Sara handed the body armor over to her sister and helped her get it adjusted properly.
They also received the pair of walkie-talkies Will and Sara had used to maintain contact with each other during their shift. Charlotte climbed the ladder, the shotgun slung over her shoulder, and Dave started his foot patrol. Every few minutes, they made radio contact, and touching base with each other made them feel a little better about being out there alone in the dark.
At around 2 a.m., Charlotte heard the door to the house unlock and swing open. She immediately went on alert.
“Charlotte?”
Charlotte twisted around on the roof. She was laying on a blanket to keep her from getting chilled by the dew-soaked metal of the roof. “Yes, who is it?”
“It’s Alice.”
Charlotte relaxed a little. “What are you doing up?” she asked. “Your shift doesn’t start for another hour.” She crawled to the edge of the tall truck box and looked down at Alice, who was standing there in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, but no shoes. She was clutching both arms around her stomach.
“These stupid cramps woke me,” Alice said. “I need to go to the bathroom again.”
“There’s a camping toilet in the bathroom in the house,” Charlotte said. “It’s there so you don’t have to go outside at night. Dad doesn’t want anyone out here.”
“I know,” Alice said. “But it’s really bad and I’d like a little more privacy, if you know what I mean.”
Charlotte took one look at Alice’s face and knew instantly what she meant. It was that explosive diarrhea her dad had been talking about.
“You want to use the outside toilet?” Charlotte asked.
Alice nodded. “Yes. Preferably without getting shot.”
“Let me get on my radio and tell Dave,” Charlotte said. “If you get shot, diarrhea will be the least of your problems.”
“Please hurry,” Alice pleaded.
Charlotte crawled across the roof of the truck and picked up her radio. “Dave?”
His response was immediate. “Everything okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said. “Alice is out here and she wants to use the outside toilet.”
“Why? There’s one inside.”
“You know, the explosive diarrhea thing.”
“Oh yeah,” he replied. “I got it. Does she need me to come get her and make sure she gets there safe?”
“No,” Alice said from the ground since she could hear Dave. “I just don’t want to get shot.”
“She’s good,” Charlotte said into the radio.
Knowing she was safe now from being shot, Alice tore across the yard barefoot, running for the toilet tent that still sat behind the storage building. It was little more than a folding camp toilet over a hole in the ground but it didn’t have to be emptied, which made it preferable to using the toilet inside. Out of necessity, it would be one of the
last items packed. Alice gratefully unzipped the door and stepped inside. She started zipping the door back closed behind her, but the urgency of her situation was upon her and she did not have the time to finish it. She abandoned the task and focused her attention on getting her pants unbuttoned.
Through the unzipped door, she saw a shadow, a flash of movement.
“I’m in here,” she said, taking a seat. “It’s occupied. I’ll be out in a minute.”
There was no response.
“Dave?” she asked. “Is that you? I’ll be out in a few minutes. Give me some privacy.”
Still no response.
In the tight quarters of the tent, the door was within arm’s reach. She leaned forward, grabbed the tent flap, and pushed it to the side. Immediately outside the tent stood a figure in black, its face a grinning skull.
She screamed as loud as she’d ever screamed. While the scream was a fear reaction, it was also an attempt to summon help.
On the far side of the house, Dave had altered his foot patrol to allow Alice her privacy. At the sound of her scream cutting through the quiet night, he felt a surge of terror. He could not tell who the scream came from but his first concern was for his wife. Not being of the mindset that usually ran toward danger, Dave did not react as a person with tactical training might. He did not ready his weapon and go into fight mode. Instead he reacted out of instinct and fear for Charlotte’s safety. Wanting to get to her as quickly as he could, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and took off running blindly toward the garage end of the house.
As he ran past the broad flowering cherry tree Gary had planted upon moving into the house, a black figure peeled away from the trunk and stepped to intersect his path. By the time Dave discerned the figure and began to understand that he should react, it was too late to do so. The moonlight gleamed from the edge of the machete as it arced toward Dave’s neck. He did not even have time to raise a hand in his defense before the machete buried itself in his neck, jarring against his spine, and nearly severing his head. He sprawled into a lifeless heap, dark blood spurting into the wet grass.
In the driveway, Charlotte spun toward Alice’s scream, knowing exactly who it was but having no idea what she should do about it. She could not see her. She stepped as close to the edge of the roof as she could, trying to see around the corner of the house.
“Alice?” she called. “ALICE?”
There was a gunshot from that direction, which only scared Charlotte worse. She had no idea what was going on. Who was shooting? Why was Alice screaming?
She fumbled to pick up her radio. “Dave!” she yelled into it. “Dave!”
There was no answer. She dropped the radio back onto the blanket and clicked off the safety on the shotgun. “DAVE!” she yelled as loudly as she could.
She heard the creak of the ladder behind her and spun around, hoping it was him. A hulking black-clad figure the size of a pro football player rose over the edge and sprang onto the roof, his leering skull mask pulled up to murky, emotionless eyes. The figure immediately rushed across the short distance toward her. She fired the already raised shotgun, striking the figure center mass with buckshot. He was still coming, and she didn’t know if it was from inertia or some overpowering desire to kill her. She tried to fire again, forgetting in her panic that the action of the weapon had to be pumped to chamber a new round. When she pulled the trigger again, nothing happened.
It was too late anyway. The figure was too close now and moving too fast. She dropped the shotgun and raised both hands. He ran full into her and she had the fleeting thought of feeling like a quarterback being sacked before she realized that she was now flying through the air, the man falling with her. They fell ten feet before they landed, Charlotte on her back, crushed beneath the weight of her massive attacker.
The shot Charlotte heard had come from Alice killing the man outside the toilet tent. She had learned that hesitation got you killed and she showed none at all. After her experience with Boyd, she would never again be caught without a weapon. Considering the state he found her in, the masked man who’d surprised Alice had probably expected that the hand she raised toward him would contain a roll of toilet paper and not a .38 revolver. He bled to death in the yard with a look of confusion on his face, apparently wondering how such a thing had happened to a nice guy like him.
The shots and screaming had now awakened the whole house. There was yelling and confusion inside. The children were crying, while the adults stumbled around blindly, trying to find their weapons in the dark. Will and Gary, with their weapons a little closer at hand than the others, were the first into the garage. They paused there together, looking out the window.
“I can’t see anything,” Will said.
Gary cracked open the door, surprised to find it unlocked. “Charlotte!” he yelled.
There was no response. He threw the door open and yelled again. “CHARLOTTE!”
A voice came from his left. “Gary, it’s Alice.”
“Alice? What—”
Before he could get the words out, he heard the cab door to the box truck slam shut.
“Charlotte?” There was the sound of footsteps running down the driveway, running hard and running away. Gary pushed by Will and ran between the vehicles. He threw up his rifle and touched a button on the quad rail of his rifle. His weapon-mounted light came to life. It was a short-range light, designed for use inside his home, but it was still bright enough to catch the back of a black-clad figured sprinting toward the end of his driveway. When the light hit the man, he turned and looked over his shoulder, the reflective ink of the skull mask glowing brightly and making the moment even more surreal.
Gary was beyond the edge now. He’d had enough of being under siege and feeling like a prisoner in his own home. He flipped the safety lever off, pushed forward on the handguard, and the Slide Fire stock engaged the trigger. Flames shot from the muzzle brake as a six-shot burst erupted from the rifle. The figure at the end of the driveway screamed and staggered. Gary gritted his teeth and pushed forward on the handguard again. The weapon fired, rounds spraying from the barrel, and Gary fought to keep it on target. He had no idea how many rounds hit the man but he fired until the mag ran dry and his target was still.
When he turned to tell Will to check the man for signs of life and to finish him off if he wasn’t dead, Will wasn’t there.
“Will?” Gary hissed.
“Over here,” came a voice from the other side of the truck. “Get over here now.”
Gary ejected his spent magazine and slammed a new one home and chambered a round. He killed his light, not wanting to present a target, then realized his night vision was blown now by use of the white light. He couldn’t see anything and would have to use the light. He flipped it back on and moved carefully around the front of the truck. On the other side, he found Will and Alice crouching over a blood-soaked Charlotte.
“No!” Gary cried, stepping to his daughter and dropping to his knees.
“She’s alive,” Alice said. “I don’t know what happened to her yet. That guy was on top of her.”
Only then did Gary notice the bulky black form of the man that Charlotte had shot and killed on the truck roof. “Is he dead?” Gary asked, his anger flaring again.
Will nodded.
“Did you check him?” Gary asked. “Are you sure he’s dead?”
“I didn’t check for a pulse,” Will said. “His eyes are open, and blood is pouring from his mouth.”
Satisfied, Gary put a hand under Charlotte’s head and started to pick her up.
“No,” Alice said, putting a hand on Gary’s arm.
Gary swung his rage in Alice’s direction, his eyes filled with fury. He was in…a place …and Alice could see it.
“I think she fell off the truck,” Alice explained quickly. “That hedge broke her fall, but we need to make sure she’s not hurt badly before we move her. I don’t want to make her injuries any worse.”
“Will,” Gary snap
ped, “check the one at the end of the driveway. If he’s still alive, slit his fucking throat.”
Alice stared at Gary, unused to seeing him so filled with hate.
“We can’t find Dave,” Will said. “I need to look for him.”
“Check on the man I shot first. We don’t leave anyone alive,” Gary ordered. “Then we’ll look for Dave.”
“You put thirty rounds in his back,” Will said. “He’s not coming back from that.”
Gary ignored Will and looked at Alice. “Get my wife. Now!”
Alice rose without a word and ran into the house, yelling for Debra. She’d never seen Gary this way before, and it scared her.
Gary checked Charlotte’s breathing and found no difficulties. He raised her shirt and was relieved that she had on the body armor. He saw no wounds that matched the volume of blood covering her clothes; it was definitely someone else’s. He gently rolled her onto her side, then raised her shirt and body armor to examine her back. There were scratches and gouges outside of the area covered by the vest but it had offered her some protection against the bushes. While the bush had taken its toll in scratches, it may also have saved her life by breaking her fall.
Will came jogging up, startling Gary enough that he reacted by reaching for his sidearm.
“It’s me,” Will said quickly. “That one’s dead. I’m looking for Dave now.”
“Be careful,” Gary said. “When Debra gets out here, I’ll come help you.”
Seconds later, Debra came running out of the house, a headlamp on her head. “I need a first aid kit, but I can’t find one!”
“They’re all packed,” Alice said.
“Where, Gary?” Debra said in a panic. “Where do I look?”
“Calm down and look under the seat of my Pathfinder!” Gary yelled. “I keep one in there.”
“What do you need me to do?” Alice asked Gary.
“Help my wife,” he said, getting to his feet with his rifle. “We can’t find Dave. I’m going to help Will find him.”
The Borrowed World (Book 3): Legion of Despair Page 22