Dark Road (Book 6): Reckoning

Home > Other > Dark Road (Book 6): Reckoning > Page 5
Dark Road (Book 6): Reckoning Page 5

by Miller, Bruno


  The approaching vehicle wasn’t moving very fast. Why would anyone be out and about right now if they didn’t have to be? Ben could think of a few reasons, and none of them were good. It was hard to tell which direction the vehicle was coming from, and the flat landscape made it impossible to get a better vantage point. He hated feeling helpless, but all he could do was wait.

  He finally caught a glint of sunlight off a windshield as the truck came into view. It was an old green and white Chevy pickup. Seeing an old truck wasn’t anything new, but this one looked to be from the 1950s, if he had to guess, and it was in great shape. Someone had restored the classic Chevy and put some serious time into making it look new. Ben couldn’t help but notice the shiny paint and bright chrome wheels glistening in the sun. The truck was nice to look at, but he was disappointed to see it slow down near the end of the gravel lane that led to Jack’s house.

  Ben jumped a little when the door to the house slammed shut, and he spun around, ready to tell whoever it was to get back inside, but he bit his tongue when he saw Jack. Ben turned his attention toward the road while Jack made his way down the steps and over to where he was.

  The Chevy was close now, and Ben could see its occupants. There were two men in the truck, and they were eyeballing Jack’s place pretty heavily. He really wished he had his rifle handy so he could get a better look at them. His gut told him they were up to no good, and he immediately wondered if they had heard the generator.

  Ben felt Jack’s hand on his shoulder. Using Ben for support, Jack leaned around the corner to get a look for himself. The Chevy slowed down even more as it crept past the end of the driveway; its occupants were still looking the place over. What did they want? Were they friends of Jack’s?

  “You know them?” Ben asked.

  “I know the truck, but I don’t know who’s driving it.” Jack shook his head. “That ain’t the Hudsons.”

  Ben hated that his instincts were right. He’d known they were up to no good from the second he’d laid eyes on the two men in the truck. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the fact that his mind worked that way or the fact that he was right.

  If they weren’t the owners of the truck, then Ben could assume the worst about them and their intentions. Thankfully, the Chevy kept moving, and Ben was relieved to hear the exhaust bark as the truck accelerated quickly and sped out of sight. Ben watched for a bit until he was sure they were gone, but Jack had stopped watching the vehicle a while ago and was standing upright behind Ben with a concerned look on his face.

  “I hope Alan and his wife are okay,” Jack said half out loud.

  “Come on. Let’s get back inside. Whoever they are, it looks like they have somewhere else to be, at least for now.” The two made their way back inside, and even though the air-conditioning was off, Ben felt instant relief from the heat as he stepped into the kitchen. As his eyes adjusted to the dark interior of the house, he made out Sandy and the kids waiting in the kitchen.

  “Who was that?” Joel asked.

  Ben glanced at Jack, back at Joel, and then at the others, who were all gathered in the kitchen to hear the news.

  “I don’t know. Your grandpa recognized the truck, but someone else is driving it. They probably stole it from the owners, and who knows what else.” Ben considered leaving out the last part but decided to tell it like it was. The others might as well know everything, even Bradley and Emma.

  What good would it do to keep his suspicions about the truck and its occupants from them? Besides, a little fear was good; it kept you on your toes. And Ben wanted them to be alert. In his experience, bad things always happened when things seemed to be under control. He didn’t consider himself to be a pessimist, but more of what he liked to call a realist. He was glad to see the kids playing games in the living room and enjoying some normal downtime, but reality was right outside that door, and it wasn’t kind or forgiving of mistakes.

  Ben looked at the kids and Sandy, who stood there in the kitchen in silence, no doubt thinking about what he had just said, and in that moment, it hit him. He was directly responsible for the welfare of all these people in front of him. Yes, Sandy was an adult and plenty capable, as were Joel and Allie, and they had proven that. But it was up to him to get them all home safe. He felt the weight of it, and the responsibility overwhelmed him for a second.

  “Well, we’ll just have to get packed up and get out of here as soon as we can.” Joel stepped forward and put his hand on Ben’s shoulder as if he could sense how his dad was feeling.

  “But what about Grandpa?” Emma asked.

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about me, Em. I’ll be fine. I’ve got lots of friends around here. Besides, we don’t know if the truck was stolen or maybe they were just borrowing it.” Jack shot Ben a disapproving look.

  Ben was getting tired of the lies, and he was tired of keeping the secret Jack had sworn him to keep. Normally, he’d be okay with leaving out details if he thought it would benefit the kids, especially the younger ones, but this was not one of those times. In fact, those times were long gone. It was a dangerous world out there, and it was full of dangerous people. The kids all needed to know that. It was unpleasant, but the sooner that type of thinking became the normal reaction to the unknown, like to the people in the truck, the safer they would all be.

  Chapter Nine

  The kids made small talk among themselves as they found their way back to the living room while the adults stayed in the kitchen and talked.

  “What time do you want to get back to work on the trucks tonight?” Sandy asked. “I can help if you let me know what needs to be done.”

  “Thanks. Maybe you and Allie can organize what’s in the Blazer and come up with an inventory of what we have. That would be a big help,” Ben said.

  Sandy smiled. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Probably won’t be cool enough until after dinner,” Jack stated.

  As much as Ben hated to admit it, Jack was right. He didn’t like putting it off that long, but he knew that going back out into the heat wasn’t smart. It wasn’t cooling down anytime soon, and though he wanted to finish prepping the trucks, he also wanted to rest up for the trip ahead. It wouldn’t do any good to exhaust themselves now and risk delaying their departure time. Since the people in the truck had checked the place out, Ben felt the urgency to leave now more than ever. They would be back eventually; it was only a matter of time.

  As much as Ben tried not to, he worried about what would become of Jack after they left. The thought haunted him relentlessly. He felt helpless to do anything about it, but more than anything, he felt guilty. Ben kept reminding himself that Jack had made his decision and that all he needed to worry about was getting his kids, Allie, and her mother out of here safely. Ben also worried about the kids and their take on the whole thing. They would certainly be more worried now that some potentially dangerous people had paid them a visit.

  Surely one of the kids would insist on Jack coming with them. Ben was surprised they hadn’t pushed harder for his inclusion in the trip already. He figured that the only thing preventing them from asking was the possibility of their mother coming back to an empty house if Jack left as well. Little did they know that if Casey made it back, it would be a lost cause anyway.

  Ben would be surprised if they made it out of here without the kids learning Jack’s secret. In the short time they had been there, he’d noticed a major deterioration in Jack’s health. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t have to fake it anymore now that Ben was here to take care of the kids. And in a way, Ben wished it was out in the open and the kids knew the truth, even if it meant temporarily adding a great deal of drama to their lives. At least it wouldn’t be his burden to bear alone anymore.

  Sandy’s throat had been bothering her, and she finished making a cup of tea and excused herself to the living room so she could rest before dinner. Ben and Jack sat down at the table while they ate their now-cold lunch of rice and v
egetables from Jack’s garden. Ben was hungry, but the best part of the meal was the cold, refreshing sweet tea. They sat in silence as they ate their meals.

  Jack broke the silence as he finished eating. “I’ve got some things in the bedroom I want you to have a look at when we’re done eating.”

  Ben wasn’t surprised by the statement; in fact, he had been waiting for Jack to say something like that. He knew Jack had a gun safe in his bedroom and a few nice weapons locked up inside. Ben hoped that he would offer them some of his guns and ammunition, but he wasn’t about to ask. When it came to weapons and ammunition, they were in pretty good shape for the trip back, but adding a few quality pieces to their arsenal wouldn’t hurt. Ben could always find a little extra room in one of the vehicles for those types of things.

  They finished cleaning up from lunch and started for Jack’s bedroom. On the way by the living room, Ben checked in on the others and saw that Joel and Bradley had fallen asleep on the couch. Sandy wasn’t far behind in the recliner while Allie and Emma talked quietly. Seeing the girls talking warmed Ben’s heart; in all the disorder and darkness that had consumed their lives, there was a little light.

  Ben continued to follow Jack without interrupting the girls. Gunner and Sam were content to stay put as well, although Gunner’s tail beat the side of the coffee table like a drum when he saw them, and Ben was afraid that it would wake everyone up.

  “Stay,” Ben whispered as he held out his hand, urging Gunner to stay put. Gunner put his head back down on the carpeted floor and quickly resumed his nap. As they entered Jack’s room, Ben noticed the dresser top was littered with mostly empty prescription bottles and paperwork that must have been directions for all of it. There were at least a dozen little orange pill bottles scattered around. He wondered how long Jack had been out of his medications and if that was the reason his health was going downhill so fast.

  As Ben predicted, Jack led him over to the safe, where he dialed in the combination like he had done it a thousand times before.

  “Pull up the bench, will you?” Jack motioned to the bench seat near the foot of the bed. He struggled with the heavy safe door and then sat down with a sigh and remained quiet for a minute as he surveyed the contents of the gun safe. Ben stayed silent as well, not wanting to rush him or seem eager to take the man’s guns. Whatever Jack decided to give them would be his only lasting legacy to the kids, and Ben realized the gravity of the situation. He sat back and gave Jack the time to do this how he wanted.

  The first gun he pulled out wasn’t what Ben expected, and he was surprised Jack owned anything like that. Jack handed the desert-tan Kel-Tec KSG 12-gauge over to Ben.

  “I originally bought that for home defense, but to be honest, it’s a little too much to handle for my taste.” Jack didn’t waste any time and began rooting around in the bottom of the safe for something else.

  Ben hadn’t ever had the chance to shoot a KSG, but he was familiar with it. He’d drooled over one at a gun show in Bayfield a while back but decided to be responsible and not spend the money. He knew why it was too much for Jack to handle, though, especially in his current state of health. The bullpup-style shotgun was only twenty-six inches long altogether and weighed just under seven pounds, if his memory served him correctly.

  Jack slid a carton of double-aught buckshot out of the safe and slid it across the carpet toward Ben. “She’ll take fourteen plus one of the two-and-three-quarter-inch shells.”

  “Thanks, Jack. This’ll come in handy, I’m sure. I almost bought one of these a while back,” Ben added.

  “Good. So you’re familiar with it?” Jack asked.

  “Oh yeah.” Ben nodded as he handled the weapon and toggled the magazine selector switch back and forth. The switch allowed the user to draw ammunition from two separate tubes that served as magazines and ran the length of the gun, feeding the main chamber. Each magazine could be loaded with a different type of shell, so you could have birdshot or buckshot loaded in one and slugs in the other. Each one held seven rounds of the two-and-three-quarter-inch shells, leaving room for one more in the chamber, which brought the total amount of ammunition available to the user up to fifteen rounds when the weapon was fully loaded.

  It would be a welcome addition to their arsenal, and its size made it ideal to keep close at hand in the truck. The KSG wasn’t meant for long-range shooting, though, and only sported a pair of Magpul flip-up sights, but it was easily lethal at fifty yards. The shotgun was set up the way Ben would have done it if he’d bought the one at the show. Manual flip-up Magpul sights were simple and always worked. They also allowed for an open field of view down the barrel. The tactical light mounted on the lower rail wasn’t necessarily something Ben would have added, but it might prove handy, given their current situation.

  Before Ben had time to fully appreciate the KSG, Jack handed him a smaller box of ammunition from the safe. Ben’s eyes grew wide and he couldn’t help but smile a little as he looked it over.

  “Dragon’s Breath?” Ben shook his head.

  Jack smirked. “It’s kind of a novelty, but it may prove useful down the road. You never know.”

  Dragon’s Breath was a type of shotgun ammunition that Ben had only read about and seen used in a few videos. It was a flamethrower round filled with a magnesium-based incendiary metal compound. The flame would reach out over one hundred feet at four thousand degrees Fahrenheit, burning or melting just about anything in its path.

  Jack pulled another rifle out of the safe before Ben had a chance to finish looking at the box, and he was less excited about this one. At first, it looked to be a basic AR-15 setup chambered in the standard .223 caliber. But then Ben noticed what was mounted on top, and his interest in the gun was reignited. It had a very nice 4 × 32 ACOG (advanced combat optical gunsight). The fixed magnification scope was a rugged combat-proven optic equally suited for CQB (close-quarters combat) or taking out a target up to eight yards away, although Ben considered five hundred yards to be the practical limit of the scope with a .223-caliber weapon. The optic was also designed to be used in low-light conditions, with the tritium fiber optic-illuminated reticle making the best use of any available light. He was plenty familiar with the optic from his Army days and knew it was reliable.

  “Here you go. Bought this one before Maryland went full communist.” Jack laughed a little before it turned into a raspy cough.

  “Nice.” Ben smiled as he set the KSG on the bed behind him and took the rifle.

  “Bradley and Emma can both load and shoot that without any help from me,” Jack added.

  “I appreciate you working with them on that, Jack.” And Ben was. He regretted not being able to be there and teach the kids these types of things. The time they had on their visits to Durango was nowhere near enough for him to do a proper job when it came to firearms training and proficiency. That was something he believed should be practiced as often as possible. Ben held the AR up to his shoulder and looked through the scope. It was a welcome addition to what they already had. And as an added bonus, it was another gun that any one of the kids could handle.

  But there was more to the AR than a nice optic. At first, Ben didn’t recognize what Jack had pulled out of the safe, but eventually he realized what it was.

  “Is that a suppressor?” Ben tried to hide the smile he felt creeping across his face.

  “Sure is.” Jack appeared proud of the little black tube in his hand.

  Ben shrugged. “I didn’t think you could get a permit in Maryland for that.”

  “You can’t that I know of, at least not without filling out a mountain of paperwork. Nobody knows I have it. This little thing could get me in a lot of trouble. Well, it would have. I don’t imagine it matters much anymore. I made it in the shop with a couple pieces of pipe and some steel wool. Works just like it should. You can’t really hear much more than the bolt cycle when you fire the gun.” Jack handed the suppressor over to Ben.

  He looked it over and ran his fingers arou
nd the weld at both end caps. “What do you do with this?” Ben gave Jack a curious look.

  “About half a mile that way through the woods”—Jack pointed—“there’s these people that put out tons of cat food for all the feral cats around here. It got so bad that there were hardly any squirrels or rabbits around anymore thanks to the cats. They started getting bold and coming up to the house and the outbuilding. They were driving Sam nuts at all hours, and she got into a couple fights with some of the bigger ones that were brave enough to venture into the yard and challenge her. One of the neighbor’s kids even had to endure a series of rabies shots thanks to the feral cats. I had to do something about it, so I started taking a few of them out. The problem was that they would all scatter at the first shot. So I made this little contraption, and well…let’s just say we don’t have a feral cat problem anymore.”

  Ben wasn’t sure what to make of Jack’s story, but he didn’t blame the guy for taking action. The suppressor was well-made, and Jack had even taken the time to paint it black so it matched the AR-15.

  Jack nodded at the tip of the rifle. “I’ve threaded the barrel and the pipe. They fit together perfectly.”

  Not only would this be a nice addition to their armory, but it was a game-changer as well. Ben thought back to more than a few scenarios during the way here and how this would have changed the outcome. Ben screwed the suppressor onto the end of the barrel and looked to see how well it fit together. Jack was right; it was a good, tight fit and sat below the field of view from the optic. Ben was impressed at Jack’s handiwork, and it must have shown on his face.

  “What? An old guy can’t have a hobby? Besides, I get bored living here all alone.” Jack smiled. For a moment, Ben forgot about all the bad things and it was just two guys talking about guns, but it didn’t last for long, and Jack’s expression turned solemn as he pulled out his custom Colt 1911 from the safe. The gun was special to Jack. Ben had only seen it a handful of times, yet he remembered it well.

 

‹ Prev