by Alex Gunwick
He grunted in pain, instinctively grabbing at his stomach. His hand came away bloody, though he was pretty sure it was just a flesh wound.
The other man lacked training and discipline, but he was fast and bold. Fortunately for Luke, that also made him reckless.
The man raised the hatchet again, preparing for another downward chop. Luke lunged forward, grabbing the arm holding the hatchet with both hands and driving his shoulder into the man’s chest.
A shot sounded from somewhere outside, but Luke figured if anyone was shooting at him, they were just as likely to hit their own men. Not much he could do about them at the moment, anyway.
He shifted his weight, placing his right leg in front of the other man’s legs and thrusting his hips out and back. As he did this, he yanked the man’s arm forward and down violently, flipping him over his hips. The man landed with an awful crunch, his lower back impacting the sharp edge of the raised brick hearth in front of the fireplace. The hatchet skidded across the room. The man screamed in pain, rolling and thrashing on the ground.
Luke drew his pistol to finish the man writhing on the ground. But before he could get a shot off, he sensed movement behind him. Luke spun as the second man rushed forward, thrusting a large hunting knife toward him.
Luke swung his pistol around, but the man rushed at him again, swinging the knife wildly and forcing Luke to defend and dodge. Luke dropped his pistol back into its holster to free both hands for close-quarters combat.
He dodged a few more wild swings from the man’s knife, waiting for his opening. The attacks slowed as the man tired. As he cut at Luke with a great backhanded chop, Luke grabbed the man’s wrist to stop the attack.
The man punched him hard in the jaw with his free hand. Luke’s ears rang. He instinctively brought his knee up hard into the man’s groin. The guy grunted in pain. The first man was still howling and writhing on the floor near the fireplace.
Luke drove his forehead into his attacker’s nose. It hit with a loud thud, and blood poured out of his opponent’s face. The cultist swung his free hand at him, but Luke ducked under the punch. He countered with a punch of his own. It unbalanced the man, but he maintained his grip on the knife. Luke drew his knife from the sheath on his belt. He drove it up into the man’s chest, under his rib cage. It punched into him with a terrible thunk. The man grunted. His eyes went wide. The man’s grip on his knife weakened. Luke twisted his wrist violently, tearing up the man’s guts. His opponent’s knife clattered to the floor.
The man’s eyes were wide with panic. His gaze darted around the room, looking for a way out. He tried to scramble back, but he lacked the strength to move more than a few inches. His breath came in ragged rasps. Blood gurgled from his mouth as he coughed, probably a punctured lung.
Luke slid his knife out of the man’s chest. Blood poured out of the deep wound and dripped off the blade. Luke drew his pistol from its holster and pointed it at the center of the man’s chest. The cultist raised his hands in surrender.
“Please,” he rasped, the sound barely audible over the groans and sobs of the other man still writhing in pain near the fireplace.
Luke fired twice into the man’s chest, blood spitting up as the bullets tore into him. The cultist’s arms sagged to the ground next to him. He went still. His eyes glazed over.
As Luke swung his pistol toward the other man near the fireplace, searing pain shot through his shoulder. He glanced down, surprised to find the black graphite shaft of an arrow protruding from it, the green and orange fletching still quivering at the end.
He followed the flight path back from the nock and saw a young man on the other side of the cabin. The man glanced up at Luke as he struggled to fit another arrow onto his crossbow with his trembling fingers.
Luke, somewhat amused, looked back to the arrow in his shoulder. “Huh, that’s funny. Never been shot with an arrow before.”
He trained his pistol on the man. Luke’s hand was still a little shaky from the pain and adrenaline, but it was steady enough. When the man saw the pistol aimed at him, his eyes flared with fear. He hurried to reload his weapon, but his hands were shaking violently as his nerves failed him.
“When you find yourself in a live combat situation, your brain tends to fire a lot of mixed signals,” Luke said casually, amused by the younger man’s total incompetence. “It happens to everyone at first. What you need to have is a mechanism already in place to deal with those nerves. That’s why we, Navy SEALS, spent a lot of time in what we called ‘simulated, high-stress environments’. We learned breathing exercises to help us maintain our composure under intense pressure.”
The young man frowned while still struggling furiously with his weapon.
“Boy, I can’t tell you how many times we broke down and reassembled our weapons with sirens blaring in our ears, sergeants screaming insults in our faces, and guys firing off blanks all around us. It was hell. But it was all worth it. In the time it’s taken you to fire one poorly placed arrow, I could have taken apart and refit this gun. Twice. What the hell are you doing, anyway, coming in here with a crossbow?”
The cult member cursed.
“You know, your biggest mistake was not finding some decent cover to fire from. It would’ve at least given you a chance to reload in peace.”
The man glanced over toward the large armchair to his right.
“Sorry. Too late.” Luke squeezed off three rounds in rapid succession. They hit the nervous guy in the center of his chest. As he fell onto his back, the still-unloaded crossbow fell to the floor.
The man who had rushed him with the hatchet was hauling himself across the floor toward the front door, his legs dragging behind him.
“Hey, buddy, where do you think you’re going?” Luke called.
The man looked behind him. Determination replaced the fear in his eyes. The guy wanted to live. He turned back toward the door. Despite his pathetically slow pace, he crawled forward with the desperation of a man about to die.
Luke strolled toward him.
“What happened? Did I bust up your spine? Damn, that’s too bad. It would be pretty hard to get your hands on a decent wheelchair out here, don’t you think?” Luke touched the wound on his stomach left by the man’s hatchet. His hand came away covered in fresh blood. “You know, I do believe you cut me pretty deep. So, at least you can feel good about that, I guess.”
The man glanced over his shoulder at Luke. The guy’s face was red and sweaty. He grunted as he labored to haul himself farther away.
Luke raised his pistol and fired two rounds into the center of the man’s back. The guy dropped to the floor with a loud thud.
With all the threats neutralized, Luke groaned and slumped down to the ground. He sat with his back against the couch and touched the wound on his stomach again. It was definitely a bleeder, but he still didn’t think any significant internal damage had been done. He touched the shaft of the arrow lodged in his shoulder. A jolt of pain shot through the right side of his body, making his fingertips tingle.
“That’s not good. Hopefully, there’s no nerve damage. Fuck, this is going to hurt like a bitch.”
He winced as he gripped the shaft as close to his shoulder as possible. He pulled on the arrow. Excruciating pain shot through him, blanking out his vision and causing him to growl in agony. The arrow barely moved.
“Fuck!”
He groaned and took several deep breaths to compose himself. Maybe he could find something in the kitchen to help him extract the arrow. As he attempted to stand, the front door of the cabin burst open. Splintered wood rained down on him. Luke raised his pistol.
Two figures came crashing in. One landed on top of the other at the base of the stairs. The man on top was screaming like a madman, raising his large hunting knife and plunging it into the other man’s chest over and over. Blood obscured the knife wielder’s face, which was contorted in a terrifying mask of rage. It took Luke a few moments to recognize Derek.
Once he d
id, his grip relaxed slightly. He moved his finger off the trigger but kept his pistol trained on them. He didn’t lower his gun until the man underneath Derek lay motionless. The guy’s shirt lay in tatters while his chest was a ruined mess of knife wounds.
“I think he’s dead,” Luke said.
Derek whirled round, his knife raised, and his eyes wild. He relaxed when he saw it was Luke. He looked down at the man beneath him.
“Yeah, I guess he is.” He turned his gaze back toward Luke, gesturing at the arrow with the tip of his knife. “What the fuck happened to you? Indians raid the place?”
Luke coughed out a harsh laugh. “Oh, shove it. Help a wounded soldier to his feet, would you?”
Derek laughed, smiling as he walked over and stooped to slide his arm under Luke’s good shoulder.
“Sure thing, old man.”
Liz stood outside the bunker entrance, chewing her lip and squinting into the dim light of dusk. It was chilly out but somewhat warmer than it had been. Dark clouds threatened overhead.
“You ought to come back in, honey. No point standing out here worrying yourself.” Sandy emerged from the bunker to stand beside her. The older woman placed a reassuring hand on Liz’s shoulder. “Those two can handle themselves. I’m sure they’ll be back any minute.”
“I know.” Liz sighed before turning to stare at the woods. “But it’s almost dark, and this place is hard to find in broad daylight.”
Off to the right, several bushes rustled. Liz aimed her rifle in the direction of the noise.
“Get back inside,” she hissed at Sandy.
The woman retreated into the entryway of the bunker.
“Who’s there?” Liz called out.
“It’s us. Luke and Derek.” Derek’s deep, familiar voice called back.
The tension in Liz’s shoulders eased as they came into view. She gasped when she saw their disheveled state. She set down her rifle down and rushed toward them.
“Oh my god, what happened? Is that an arrow?” She rushed to Luke’s side.
His right hand clutched his stomach where his shirt was torn and bloody. Derek was covered in blood. He half carried Luke, holding him up as they walked. Liz moved to help support him, but he waved her off.
“Too painful,” Luke said.
She nodded. She wanted to help but wasn’t sure what she could do. She hovered next to them as they made their way toward the bunker entrance.
Sandy gasped when they came into view. “Oh, Lord. What in the hell happened to you two?”
“Cult bastards stormed the cabin,” Derek said. “They put up a good fight, but they were no match for us. Isn’t that right, old man?”
Luke laughed weakly. “Guy shot me with a damn crossbow. Can you believe that?”
“Sandy, run and get some first aid supplies,” Liz said.
As Sandy hurried into the bunker, Liz latched the door closed behind them.
Liz and Derek eased Luke into a chair in the large central room. She positioned the harsh light of a desk lamp directly onto her husband. An arrow was buried in his right shoulder. Blood seeped from the wound, soaking through his clothes. His shirt was torn and bloody near his stomach.
“Oh, babe. Are you okay?” She grimaced as she lifted his shirt to inspect the wound on his midsection. It was ugly, but luckily, it didn’t seem too deep.
“Never better.” Luke winced as he smiled.
Derek slumped down in a chair next to them. He had a bloody piece of cloth tied around his thigh. He was holding his side and cringing, but it was difficult to tell if the blood on his shirt was his or not.
“You guys are a mess,” Liz said.
“Bah.” Derek waved his hand at her dismissively, his smile contorted by pain. “Just a couple of scratches. We’ve seen worse, right?”
Luke nodded in agreement, but his face was pale and he looked tired.
Sandy came rushing into the room carrying a box full of bandages and other supplies. She set about patching the men up.
“Liz, I need you to do something.” Luke looked at her intensely, grimacing as Sandy dabbed at his stomach with an alcohol-soaked pad.
“Tell me what you need,” Liz said.
“Derek and I weren’t exactly stealthy on our way back here. But we’re too banged up to check the perimeter. It kills me to think of you out there; it really does. I wouldn’t dream of it if we had any other options. But we can’t afford to let the cult find this place. Do you think you can handle a quick patrol?”
“If you’re okay with me going out there, I can get it done.” She gave him a determined look, then turned to Sandy. “Can you handle fixing these two up on your own?”
“If they’re as tough as they say they are, it should be no problem. I’ve patched up my fair share of wounds. Edwin used to get himself in a fair bit of trouble back in the day. Before he quit his drinking.”
Liz raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really? I wouldn’t have pegged him for a troublemaker. I’ll like to hear those stories one of these days.” She patted Sandy on the shoulder. “All right then, I’ll be back soon. Nobody die until I get back, promise?”
“Not planning on it,” Luke said through gritted teeth.
“It’ll take more than those losers to put me six feet under,” Derek said.
Liz smiled at her husband and Derek. She pushed aside her trepidation about heading out alone into the night. She’d faced the cult members before, and she’d won. She could do it again, especially after they’d hurt another one of her family members. They wouldn’t get away with it this time.
After slipping out the door, she made her way through the ravine. She carried her rifle at the ready. Derek had shown her a decent path up to the ridge above the bunker. She used her flashlight to find the cairns he’d used to mark the trail. She veered left past the pile of rocks.
When she reached the top of the ridge, she spotted the glow of several large bonfires in a clearing below. She flattened onto her stomach before peering down at the fires through her binoculars. It was too far and too dark to make out any details, but she could see about a dozen shadowy figures gathered around each fire.
She wanted a better look at the people around the fires but decided it was too risky to go alone. She hadn’t realized there were so many cult members left. They must have picked up recruits from other people hiding in the forest. This wasn’t good. Instead of fighting a handful of people, they’d have to take on several dozen. It changed the odds once more, putting them squarely in favor of the cult. However, she and her group had an advantage. Now they knew where they could find the cult. Liz and her crew could use stealth to pick them off one by one. It might take some time, but as long as the cult couldn’t find the bunker, her family would be safe.
After watching the group for several more minutes, she slid back from the edge. She carefully picked her way down the trail back toward the bunker. She couldn’t wait to tell the others.
19
Luke sat at the long table in the central room of the bunker with his left hand curled around a steaming mug of instant coffee. Sandy stood behind him, wrapping a fresh bandage in place over the wound on his shoulder. When she and Edwin had pulled out the arrow the previous night, he’d screamed in excruciating pain. But at least he was still alive.
Derek sat across the table from him, prodding at the stitches in the knife wound on his side.
“Stop fiddling with that,” Sandy snapped. She continued rewrapping Luke’s wound. “You’ll ruin my hard work.”
“I can’t help it. It’s itchy.” He frowned as he clenched his fists.
“Sit on your hands if you have to. I’m not stitching you up again. You howled like a baby last night,” Sandy snapped.
Derek’s face went red. “Have you ever gotten stitches without anesthetic? It hurts like a son of a bitch.”
“Oh, please. I’ve given birth, so don’t talk to me about pain. Besides, you didn’t see Luke here carrying on like that when I was sewing up his stomach
, did you?”
“Guess they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, right?” Luke gloated, grinning at Derek. Luke shared a short laugh with Sandy before the pain in his shoulder and abdomen made him wince. He immediately reconsidered the wisdom of making jokes in his current condition.
“Give me a break. You basically passed out when they pulled that arrow out of you. You were barely even conscious when she stitched you up,” Derek said.
“Sounds like excuses to me.” Sandy smirked.
Derek sighed and waved a dismissive hand at them. He got up to pour himself more coffee. Liz shook her head. She sat quietly, reading through the supply notebook.
“Is he almost ready?” Derek asked.
“We about done here?” Luke asked.
“Yeah, I’m done. But what are you guys talking about? Ready for what?” Sandy asked.
Liz looked up at her husband. She raised her eyebrows, and her face was full of concern.
“Luke says we need to go back to the cabin because we didn’t complete the mission last night.” Derek raised his coffee mug toward Luke as if saluting him.
“What the hell does that mean?” Liz asked with fear in her voice.
“We couldn’t carry everything I went there to get. Derek had his pack on, plus he had to carry me. I couldn’t lift a damn thing with that arrow in my shoulder. We’ve got to go get the stuff now before the cult takes it.”
Liz looked furious. “Absolutely not! There’s no way in hell you two are going back up there. Didn’t you listen to what I said about the number of cult members out there? We’re outnumbered probably five to one. If you go out there without picking some of them off, you’re as good as dead.”
“Honey, I understand what you’re saying, but we cannot let our gear fall into the wrong hands. Do you want the cult to get their hands on the rest of our guns? They may outnumber us, but we have firepower. That’s the great equalizer. If we let them get the guns, we’ve lost our advantage.”