On The Edge: Book Three in The No Direction Home Series

by Mike Sheridan

  From behind a nearby tree, a small blonde woman wearing fatigues stepped out, a semi-automatic rifle in her grip, still pointing at Tania.

  Tania’s mouth gaped open like she was trying to tell Mason something. She staggered toward him, but after a couple of steps she stumbled and fell to the ground. Lying on her side, her body convulsed a few times, then remained still.

  From somewhere deep inside his shattered body, Mason mustered the last of his rage. “Muurrphh!” he roared, raising his pistol.

  The girl swiveled her rifle across at him and shot him twice more in the chest. Mason staggered backward and the pistol dropped from his grip.

  “Hey, asshole, his name isn’t Murph,” the girl said. “It’s Jonah. And he’s my husband.”

  As the light faded from his eyes, Mason stumbled over to Tania’s slain figure. His knees buckled and he tumbled on top of her. He was dead before he hit the ground.

  ***

  Jonah stepped forward, his pistol pointing down at Mason’s giant frame. It lay halfway across Tania’s body, and her bloodied face stuck out from one side at an angle.

  He looked over at Colleen and shook his head. “Why did she go and do that? I don’t think she ever handled a weapon in her life before. Total madness.”

  Colleen came over to stand beside him and stared down at the two bodies. “Why do you care?” she asked. “I don’t feel sorry for her. She must have known everything Mason was up to.”

  Despite all Jonah had endured recently, the sight of Tania’s frail figure crumpled on the ground affected him. He was amazed by the loyalty she’d shown Mason. “I couldn’t rightly tell yeh,” he said quietly. “Just doesn’t seem right.” He turned his head away. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ve seen enough dead bodies to last me a bleedin’ lifetime.”

  CHAPTER 41

  That afternoon, nine people sat around the table in the Benton Survivors Group council room. Sheriff Rollins held the chair with the four members of his council to his right, while on the left, sat the four members of the Eastwood War Committee.

  A discussion was in progress regarding what to do with the remnants of Mason’s crew, who had surrendered earlier. Several were badly wounded, and at least two wouldn’t survive the night. Eight had been killed, while it was estimated that about a dozen had managed to escape from the headland. The question now was, what to do with the eleven remaining prisoners.

  There were no easy solutions. One thing was for sure: they couldn’t keep them locked up for long. Guarding so many was a strain on their resources. Soon they would have to start feeding them too.

  “No choice,” Henry Perter said. “We got to let them go. I mean, what else are we to do, shoot them all?”

  “Why not?” Mary Sadowski replied. “That’s what we did with Russ.”

  Perter stared at her in amazement. “Mary, that was just one person. Russ tortured Ned and was proven to be complicit in murdering three of our men, along with several others. We have no idea the exact crimes of any of these men. Besides, some of them are badly injured. What are we going to do—execute them in chairs?”

  Mary’s face indicated that was exactly what she felt they should do. “These men murdered young Marcus…and Bob and Joe. Then they invaded our camp, where we lost six more people, plus the two today.” She stared at Perter fiercely. “Tell me, Hank, what do you think people like that are going to do if we let them go?”

  “I-I don’t rightly know,” Perter stuttered weakly.

  “You don’t know?” Ralph said. He sat at the end of the table, his gangly legs stretched out in front of him. “Let me tell you something. I do know. They’ll pick a new leader, then continue on as before. Find other victims to prey on along the lake shore. Kill, rob, plunder, rape. It won’t matter to them. Once a man loses his soul, it don’t come back anytime soon, if ever. Take that from a man who spent fifteen years in a cage.”

  “Exactly,” Mary said, giving Ralph an approving nod. “You really want to be responsible for what these animals go on and do?” she asked, facing Perter again.

  He looked at her uneasily. “No, but if it comes to lining them up against a wall and shooting them, you can count me out. That’s too rich for my tastes.”

  “We all respect that, Hank,” Ned Granger said gently to his friend. “Nonetheless, I don’t think we’ll be short of volunteers for the firing squad.”

  “Damn straight,” Bert Olvan growled. “I’ll show no mercy to those murdering bastards. Bob Harper was a good friend of mine. I knew him the best part of ten years.”

  “All right,” Rollins cut in. He looked around the table. “Other than Hank, is there anyone else who has a moral objection to executing these men?” All hands at the table remained down. “Well, that’s settled then. After the meeting, I’ll put together a list of volunteers and we’ll draw lots for the firing squad.”

  “When do we execute them?” Walter asked.

  “Why wait? Let’s be done with it now,” Clete said. “Waiting is no good to us or them.”

  “No point in delaying things,” Rollins agreed. “This afternoon we’ll take them down to the beach a few at a time and execute them.” He grimaced. “Not a pleasant task. Then again, these aren’t pleasant times.”

  ***

  Outside Chickasaw, Jonah Murphy leaned both arms over the porch rail. Beer in hand, he stared out across the water with a distant, weary expression. The last few days had taken their toll, and a somber mood hung over him. Though earlier he’d already whispered a brief thanks to the fellow upstairs, he intended having a proper talk with him later, rattle off the last of the Hail Mary’s he’d promised him. Perhaps that might help.

  He straightened up and poked his head inside the cabin, where Colleen was unpacking her clothes. Earlier, he had gone around the back of the cabin and into the woods to retrieve her backpack. Colleen’s eyes had lit up when she’d seen it. It saved her the bother of having to restock all her camping attire again.

  “Jonah, are you all right?” she asked, looking over at him worriedly where he leaned against the door frame, staring out vacantly. “I don’t think I ever seen you this quiet before.”

  He gave her a weak smile. “I’m fine. I think everything over the past few days is finally catching up with me, that’s all.”

  Colleen nodded. “It’s been a terrible strain on all of us, especially you.” she smiled at him. “I’m so proud of you. You know that, don’t you?”

  Jonah’s expression grew serious. “I did it for you, love. I mean, I like the Bentons and all that, but the reason I stayed behind was to help keep you safe. I just never thought I’d get so much blood on me hands in the process.” He reflected a moment. “Matt and them three other geezers that night, then Gatto’s crew…and…and poor old Pauly. He really didn’t deserve that.” A haunted look came over his face. “It…it gets to you, yeh know?”

  Colleen walked around from the closet and stood in front of him. “I know, but you’re strong. You’ll get over it,” she said firmly.

  “Yeah, give me a day or two and I’ll be back to me old self.” Jonah paused briefly. “I tell yeh something, though, I’m a bit cheesed off with Bert. To be honest, I’ve got the right hump with him.”

  Colleen looked at him blankly. “What on Earth for? I thought you two were great pals. Especially since he spent every day at Devil’s Point keeping in contact with you.”

  Jonah hesitated. “He’s a dead-on bloke, I just didn’t like the way he used you to make sure I went along with the plan today. That was low.”

  “What are you talking about, Jonah?”

  Jonah went on to explain how the previous day, Olvan had told him how Colleen had insisted on being involved in Operation Blitzkrieg. He felt certain she’d been manipulated by Olvan to ensure his cooperation.

  Colleen shook her head firmly. “It wasn’t like that. Soon as I heard about the plan to take back the camp, I volunteered to join Mary’s team. Nobody made me do anything.”

  “Y
ou sure?”

  “Absolutely positive. It had nothing to do with Bert.”

  Jonah relaxed. “Grand, then Bertie’s in me good bukes again. I feel bad now. I gave him a bit of a frosty stare earlier. Never mind, I’ll make it up to him later over a beer.”

  He looked across at the shelf space, where Colleen had almost finished putting her stuff away. “Nice job,” he said. “I feel something’s missing though.”

  Colleen frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  Jonah bounded over to his own rucksack on the far side of the room and pulled out a frilly pink negligee and a pair of matching high heels. He grinned. “These look familiar to you?”

  “My god, Jonah! You still got those?” Colleen exclaimed, laughing hard. “I don’t believe it!”

  “Too bleedin’ right. Kept them hidden at the bottom of me pack all this time. Didn’t want Mason thinking I liked to wear them meself. I don’t think that would have gone down too well.”

  He walked around to the closet and placed them on top of her pile of clothes. “Tonight, I’ll fish out a bottle of wine and get a couple of candles going while you slip into yer hot stuff. You good for that?”

  Collen stepped over to him and put her arms around his waist, drawing herself up close to him. “Oh, I’m real good for that,” she murmured softly in his ear. “Make sure you get candles that last all night long.”

  Jonah could feel the unrelenting pressure of the last few days starting to lift. He rubbed his hands gleefully. “You know, love, I think I’m starting to feel better already. I can feel it in me bones!”

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  THE MILITIA (working title), Book 4 in the NO DIRECTION HOME series is out October 2017.

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  SPECIAL THANKS...

  Goes to prepper Wmh Cheryl again for reviewing the book prior to release. Any remaining errors are all mine. You can check her out at Off Grid Homestead Prepper.