Bunker took a step back. “Franklin’s going to need your help, Steph. He’s by the base of the windmill. Go. Now.”
Stephanie nodded, then corralled Jeffrey with her arms and escorted her son toward the door. She didn’t make eye contact with Daisy as they cruised by and went out the door.
The instant the hostages were safely outside, Daisy moved forward and put the barrel of the assault rifle against Bunker’s forehead.
“Whoa, wait,” he said, raising his hands.
“Give me the pistol, and no sudden moves.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Daisy took a step to the right, allowing her to keep an eye on both Grinder and Bunker. She wasn’t sure where Bunker’s loyalties stood, not with a longtime friend and fellow Kindred gang member in the same room.
“Bulldog, huh?” she asked, buying herself more time to formulate a plan.
“Nothing’s changed here, Daisy.”
“See, I told ya. You can never trust a cop,” Grinder said with pain in his words, his bullet wound bleeding on the floor. Just then, he lunged for the rifle leaning against the wall and grabbed it.
Daisy spun to shoot him, but Bunker grabbed the end of her rifle and snatched it from her hands before she could fire.
“Now that’s the Bulldog I remember!” Grinder said with a full smile on his lips. He aimed the rifle at Daisy and pulled the trigger.
She flinched, expecting to be torn apart by a high velocity round, but the weapon never fired.
Bunker pulled the pistol from his pants and fired a single round at Grinder, nailing him in the forehead.
The goliath’s head snapped back, spraying brain matter and blood on the wall behind him. He slumped over with his head hanging limp and to the side, exposing a swastika tattoo on his neck. Daisy wondered if that was what Bunker burnt off his neck—Nazi signs.
“I told you I had it covered,” Bunker said in a calm, controlled voice, his pistol hand still aimed at Grinder.
It took Daisy a few moments to catch up to the facts, not believing the speed with which Bunker reacted. First, he grabbed her rifle before she could blink. Then he pulled his pistol and shot Grinder like it was nothing. Right then, the answer came to her. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
“Of course. I had to test him and see if he’d go for the rifle the second my back was turned. I just didn’t want you involved if he did. Not after what happened in Tuttle’s place. It’s hard enough to free yourself of the guilt from one shooting. But two, that’s an entirely different story. I was trying to spare you.”
“But you let him grab the rifle and fire?”
“Yes, but I’d put the weapon on safe before I leaned it against the wall. That’s why I waited until after he gave me the pistol and released Megan. To control the situation.”
She wasn’t sure what to say, so she kept silent.
Bunker continued, his tone turning soft. “His name was Grinder for a reason. He preferred things up close and personal. Fists usually, or knives. Guns were not his thing, and certainly not assault rifles. I knew he’d forget to take it off safe.”
She felt like an idiot. “You wanted him to make the first move.”
“To see if I could trust him. Obviously, I couldn’t.”
“There’s a shock,” she said, still processing the events. “But I guess in the end, the shoot was justified.”
“Exactly, but you were supposed to be outside. I didn’t want you to be a part of it.”
“I was afraid you were going to let him go. You know, brothers and all that.”
“In truth, I was thinking about it. But I needed to be sure.”
“I get that.”
“Looks like my suspicions were correct. The first thing he would’ve done was let the brotherhood know where I am. You heard him. They’re pissed and looking for me. They would’ve come to town and painted the sidewalks red. Trust me, it had to end like this. There was no other choice.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought I needed to do something. You might’ve turned on us.”
Bunker’s face flushed red, then his shoulders sagged. “I’m not sure what else I can do to prove myself. I’m not that man anymore.”
Daisy now understood why he chose to inflict such pain on his neck with the blowtorch. Everyone judges by what they see, not what they know. Or don’t know in this case. She felt embarrassed and small-minded. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”
He exhaled, his jaw stiff. “People can change, Daisy. You really need to think about trusting me.”
Daisy nodded. “I will. I promise.”
“Fair enough. Let’s get everyone back to town.”
BUNKER
Code of Honor
Book 3
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Jack Bunker held up a closed fist to stop his two-person search team, but not because of a possible threat ahead. Rather, he needed to give his ribs a rest and catch his breath. The aftereffects of the brutal interrogation were spreading across his body like a determined pathogen after the containment seal was broken.
The adrenaline high had kept the pain at bay and his mind focused. But now that he’d escaped and neutralized the enemy, only the reality of torture remained. Reality that came with wave after wave of stout reinforcements: bruises, scrapes, and electrical burns.
“You okay?” Deputy Daisy Clark asked, grabbing his elbow.
“Yeah, just need a second,” Bunker answered, taking in another gulp of air. He held it, letting the cool mountain freshness settle in before the next exhale. He adjusted his grip on the assault rifle, feeling as though the killing machine’s weight had just doubled. It was clear fatigue had settled in, taking residence next to the pain. He needed food, water, and sleep—none of which were available at the moment. They needed to find the insurgents’ vehicles and return to the others.
She let go of his arm. “Need to get you to medical as soon as we get back to town.”
“I’ll be okay. It’s Franklin you should be worried about. Even though it was a through and through, that shoulder isn’t going to heal itself.”
“Thank God it wasn’t a few inches lower; otherwise, we’d be consoling his daughter right now. And I think we both agree, Megan’s been through enough the last couple days.”
“Roger that. Just need to find their rides. Got to be around here somewhere.”
“Otherwise, we’ll have another situation with too many riders and not enough horses.”
“Like they say, history repeats itself,” he added, remembering the long walk to Clearwater with the herd of kids.
“You got that right. It’s too bad Franklin didn’t think to bring more than one.”
“I’m sure once they grabbed his daughter, he was totally focused on search and recover. I know I’d be. Probably didn’t think it all through.”
“If it comes down to it, Megan will be the one to ride. The rest of us can walk. We can’t have her trying to hop all the way back to town in that leg brace.”
“I might be able to make some crutches. Just need some lashing material and a couple of tree branches. If not, I’ll carry her back to town, like before.”
“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. You can barely keep yourself upright. They really did a number on ya.”
“Trust me, this ain’t nothing. The Kindred’s Circle of Doom makes today feel like a Thai Massage. The kind with a happy ending.”
She laughed before her face turned serious. “Circle of Doom, huh? What’s that, some kind of initiation?”
“I guess you could call it that. It’s more about proving your toughness against an overwhelming enemy.”
“Yeah, how does that work exactly?”
“The entire brotherhood stands in a circle and takes shots at you. And not just one at a time. It’s a free-for-all. Talk about a beating, with chanting and laughing the entire time. All you can do is stand there and take it as a blur of pain comes at you from every direction. Fists. Feet. Elbows. Head butts. Nothing i
s off limits. I think there was a lead pipe involved, too. Everyone comes out with at least a concussion. Usually worse.”
“So that’s what happened to your nose,” she quipped in a sarcastic tone.
“Among other things.”
She shook her head, looking shocked.
Bunker continued. “One guy ended up with serious brain damage. Poor bastard. Our leader, Watts, just dumped the asshole in the alley behind the bar we were drinking in, then just left him there when we took off for the next town. That guy obviously never rode with us again.”
“Why would anyone ever want to do any of that? And for what?”
He shook his head. “Not my finest hour. But I was so lost at the time. In fact, I wanted the beating. I figured I deserved it for what happened during my last tour. After that, it was all about being part of a brotherhood. A place to call home. A place where I felt I belonged, for better or worse.”
“With a bunch of thugs?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t in my right mind at the time.”
“Probably from the Circle of Doom.”
“Sure. That was part of it. But in truth, there was more. A lot more. A person’s past can change them at the cellular level, pushing them places they never thought they’d go. Even to the dark side, like me. I know it’s all a poor excuse for the shit I’ve done, but what I went through actually happened. And it was real. I can’t tell you the hurt that was boiling inside me at the time. Clear down to my soul. It was like some creature had taken control of my insides, eating away at my guts. And my heart. I was so angry at the world. And myself.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“But I finally managed to crawl out of that hole. It wasn’t easy, but here I am. Broken and bruised. Just trying to put the pieces back together. All I can do now is move forward and try to find the man I used to be. The kind of man my father would be proud of. I hope you understand.”
A minute of silence filled the air before Daisy spoke again. “Maybe we should split up to cover more ground?”
Bunker was happy she’d changed the subject. “I thought about that, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out here alone. Not until we know the area is secure.”
“You heard Franklin; he said we got them all.”
“Maybe, but he was down for a while after taking a bullet. There could be more of them out here.”
Her head snapped back, as she shot him a fierce look. “Hey, I can take care of myself. It’s you who shouldn’t be out here. Not in your condition. I’ve seen drunks on a three-day bender who can move faster than you.”
He laughed, harder than he wanted, waking up a string of pain across his midsection. He grimaced. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Sorry, can’t help it. Watching you right now is like a comedy act. Seriously, maybe you should head back to camp and send Stephanie to help.”
He hated that idea. “Not a chance. The last thing I need is for the two of you to be out here alone. And armed. It’s pretty obvious that Steph wants to kill you right now.”
Daisy paused before she answered. “I know, and I feel terrible about it. But I’m not sure what else I can do. I’ve apologized like a million times.”
“You gotta give it some time. Sleeping with her old man wasn’t cool. I’d be pissed, too,” he said, resuming his trek through the forest. “No, I’m afraid it’s just you and me. Steph needs to stay back and keep an eye on the kids. And Franklin.”
Daisy checked the AR-10, inspecting the magazine after ejecting it. “Well, at least we’ve got thirty little friends who can help. Armor piercing friends, at that.”
He wanted to laugh again, but held it back to protect his ribs, offering up a smirk instead. “Let’s hope we don’t have to use ‘em.”
Bunker turned and resumed his march through the uneven terrain of central Colorado. Daisy followed three steps behind, with her rifle in a firing position.
Before he could take another step, Bunker heard a twig snap, then the heavy tread of something moving in the forest. He swung his focus to the right, seeing the backside of a naked man running at an angle away from him. The back of the man’s head was bloody; so was his neck.
Bunker knew who it was—the guard he’d overpowered in the torture shack, his hands still bound behind his back. “Shit, I forgot about that guy!”
“I got him,” Daisy said, taking off after him.
Bunker followed, though his pace was slower than hers. Every stride tore at his wounds, sending the pain into overdrive.
Daisy raised the rifle and took a shot, never stopping her uneven jog. The blast echoed across the landscape, bouncing off the tall, majestic trees and embedded rock formations.
The man’s speed didn’t change, his bare feet tiptoeing through the countryside with a hurried step. He looked like a streaking Olympic hurdler, racing cross-country over broken glass.
When the trim guard’s path took him up a gentle slope, more of his nakedness came into view.
Daisy took another shot.
This time the escapee went down, twisting forward with his right shoulder leading the way, his legs the last to disappear from sight.
“He’s down!” she said, picking up her pace.
“Hold on—don’t approach without me.”
She did as he asked, coming to a halt next to a wide tree stump, eight feet high. Check that—it was a mound of termites, building an impressive fortress amongst the greenery. They’d been at it for a while, the colony’s exterior walls bustling with trails of activity. From a distance, it resembled a miniature rock formation—something you’d see in Monument Valley, though this shrine had a collective mind of its own.
He memorized its location out of habit, just in case the group needed an impromptu source of protein. The kids would probably gag if he stuck his hand inside one of the towering walls and pulled out a wad of eusocial insects.
So would Stephanie, but he figured the capable deputy would be a willing participant. Eventually, the entire group would partake in the live feast. Hunger would transform everyone’s mindset, especially when faced with no alternatives.
“Where is he?” Bunker asked when he arrived at Daisy’s position.
She pointed with the end of the rifle. “Two o’clock. Fifteen yards out. By the base of that willow with the wishbone branch in the middle.”
“On me,” he said in his most authoritative voice, dragging his sore legs forward. They weighed a hundred pounds each, feeling like they’d been stolen from someone else’s body, filled with cement, and sewn onto his.
Bunker crept through the underbrush with the barrel of the gun aimed in the same direction as his eyes, waiting for the man’s bare skin to arrive in the sights.
Even though Daisy landed a round on the target, it didn’t mean the man wasn’t a threat. Caution was needed. He could reappear at any time and from any direction, breaking through the cover provided by the natural landscape.
The deadfall ran thick in spots, requiring careful placement of each step. The foliage scratched at him, reminding him it was searching for unprotected skin. Skin it could tear open and penetrate.
His days in wilderness survival training had taught him a great many things, none more important than Mother Nature is always in control. Whether you were prepared or not, she was gunning for you.
Her mercy kind, but her vengeance wicked, his team leader would say.
Bunker couldn’t believe how the day had kept evolving, starting with a beating and ending with one of his captors on the run. It all felt a little too surreal, as if his destiny was unfolding on the pages of some twisted Hollywood screenplay.
He knew nothing would ever seem normal from here on out. Not after the Area 51 plane crash and corresponding EMP attack.
* * *
Daisy stopped her march and stood alongside Bunker after he’d taken position near the base of the willow tree.
The man she’d shot was lying on his stomach with a gaping bullet hole in his right shoulder
. Even though she wasn’t trying to wing the target, she was glad she did. A fortunate result of her second shot, taken on the run, over uneven terrain.
Yet the shoulder wound wasn’t the man’s only injury. A piece of skull had been cracked open across the back, courtesy of Bunker and his relentless kicking in the torture shack. It was a miracle the guard could even walk, let alone make a break for it in the woods.
Bunker pressed the barrel of his rifle into the man’s back, but the body didn’t move. Bunker tried again, this time with more force. No response. He tucked the rifle down to his side, then bent over and used a free hand to roll the man onto his back.
When the victim’s face came into view, Daisy turned her head away in disgust. There was a hunk of wood sticking out of his right eye—thick, sharp, and bloody. His fall must have taken him face first onto an exposed branch, perhaps a root, impaling his eye.
“Oh man, that had to hurt,” Bunker said, using a buoyant tone. “Nice shot, Daisy. Nailed him twice.”
“Not what I had in mind,” she answered, wishing she’d never seen the results. “I take it he’s dead?”
Bunker checked the man’s vitals. “Yep, and then some.” He moved a step to the left and pointed at a fallen sapling. Its trunk had been snapped in half, exposing a jagged base. “Poor bastard. Must have landed there. Talk about bad luck.”
Daisy expected guilt to rage inside her like before, yet all felt calm inside. Well, calm mixed with queasiness. She wondered if they were going to keep searching for the trucks, or drag the corpse back to camp. “What about the body?”
Bunker didn’t hesitate, answering a millisecond later as if he was already thinking about it. “Let the animals take care of it. I give it a week, then there will be nothing left.”
“And the others?”
“Toss them out here, too. It’ll be a forest buffet for the critters. Going to be some fat coyotes running around.”
Bunker: Boxed Set (Books 1, 2, and 3) Page 30