Against the Grain

by Ian Daniels

  “Sure thing,” I looked back to my group and rolling my eyes, mouthed “F-me,” then in my normal voice, “you guys finish this up and get with Bre to finalize it.” Then I turned to meet my fate. “What can I do for you?”

  “I assume you meant no harm, but I’m not so sure about arming my daughter.”

  “I do mean no disrespect, but your daughter, with that gun, shot better scores than I did in a competition once. She is very capable of handling it… and herself.”

  Yeah because that’s what a dad wants to hear.

  Finding out that I had taught Tiffany to shoot and had taken her out enough times to be able to place in a competitive match was news to him and his eyes stayed locked on mine as the emotions processed through his brain. Finally, he let out a big breath of air.

  “Yeah, I know she is, but she’s still my daughter so… aw hell I don’t know. I’ve done the best I could, but I knew a while ago that we were just not going to make it out here. I didn’t know what else to do about it but keep on trying. Now with Derek here again and the option to start over in a better situation… but this is still our home.”

  It sounded like this was maybe his way of burying the hatchet and thanking me; so naturally, I was at a near total loss for words.

  “You kept your family alive and strong," I told him. "I’ve seen a lot worse outcomes from better situations. Everyone has had to make a lot of hard choices these last few years, but really I think this is a good one. There might be a time when you can come back to this place, don’t forget that.”

  Unable to think of anything else, I simply stuck out my hand and he shook it. As he did his eyes drifted over to the small pile of our weapons on the tailgate of the Dodge.

  “What is it with you and the Russian guns anyway?”

  “I guess I just have an aversion against overpriced, over complicated guns in anemic calibers.”

  I hadn’t lost my old sparing partner just yet.

  “Tell you what, I do have an M1 that I don’t shoot much these days. When we get back, we’ll see if that’s good enough for you.”

  He paused, smiled a tight lipped smile, nodded his head once and walked back to rejoin his family. It took me a few minutes to get my nervous heartbeat back under control.

  RJ met me back at the parking area dressed similarly as to how I was now outfitted. All his clothes and gear were marine issue styles and colors, which was fine as those patterns worked well for the areas we’d be traveling through.

  “What are you thinking weapon wise?” He asked, setting his own pack down next to mine.

  “Might as well stick with that model 70 since you have enough rounds and you’re pretty familiar with it by now.”

  “Makes sense. I might rattle can it before we head out though,” he responded.

  It was good thinking and I was happy that he was savvy enough to think of painting it. It was going to be a long hike back to the Harris’s, but I was really looking forward to having someone else out there with me that could appreciate the experience.

  “So what’s the plan here?” He asked, jumping into planning mode.

  I again unfolded the map and penciled out some areas I wanted to go over. Our route would take us from the drop off point to the house of a family I used to know, the Bradson’s. Their place sat just within the borders of where the desert stopped and the trees started up again. Back in the day and to my then untrained eye, they were just a family of semi-weird hippy farmer recluses. Now, after a few years of reflection, I came to understand that they were probably a breed of survivalist, before I ever knew of such things. Their son Rob was my age in school and we had been friends, so I wanted to take the opportunity of being out this way to look in on their house and see if anyone was still there.

  The road to their property was only about two miles from the little town of Wilcox, which would also give us an opportunity to stop in at the little store and see just what was there. I honestly didn’t expect to find much from the brief impression I got of driving through it the first time, but it was worth a shot. Which as it turns out, is exactly what it was worth.

  Chapter 20

  The drop off had gone well and we were now making our way toward the Bradson’s house. Or at least we were making our way to where I estimated it was on the map after having not been there for so many years.

  RJ and I didn’t know each other’s idiosyncrasies yet, that was something that would only come in time, but there was a good rapport and teamwork aspect between us right away. We were being cautious, but this was not some sort of a combat assault where we were leapfrogging and over-watching each others movements. It was a quiet, unobserved hike through the woods to check in on old friends.

  The gravel driveway was hard packed and wouldn’t show any sign of recent travel, so we had no clue as to what we’d find. The few stop-and-listen halts we did gave us no real indication either. The first shot that cracked through the branches in front of me on the other hand, that gave me a real good indication that someone was still out at the house.

  RJ and I each dropped to the ground when the shot rang out and we could hear the quick movements of someone running through the bushes somewhere in front of us. I shrugged out of my pack and tried to get an idea of where the shooter was going to appear. Neither RJ or I called out to announce our presence.

  The bush busting noises stopped, we heard a man’s voice swear, and then he took off again in another direction away from us this time. It was either a ploy, or the worst woodsman in the world. Either way, I had to chance it. I slowly raised my head enough to see through the underbrush and caught the tail end of a red plaid shirt going off to the left of us. I wondered if we may have just lucked out and stumbled upon a desperate hunter taking a wild shot at something to eat, and hopefully not another person out to shoot me. I indicated with hand signals to tell RJ what I was seeing as he raised up to look in the other direction.

  I was at a loss of what to think or do. We could stalk this guy and either take him out, or risk getting shot ourselves. Or we could continue on with an unknown on the loose out here with us. Or take the smarter option, which was to back out of the situation altogether. I knew what the smart thing to do was, but I wasn’t completely sold yet. A quick shrug of my shoulders told RJ as much, and he slowly made his way over to whisper a conversation on it.

  “Back out?” I posed with as little noise as possible.

  “Then we came all this way for nothing,” he opined.

  “Follow him?”

  “Yep. Spread out and cover each other… you first.”

  He rose up to his knees with his rifle up and eyes scanning.

  Well he wasn’t afraid of a little risk, I knew that now. It took us a long and slow couple of minutes to catch sight of the guy in plaid again. When we did finally see him, we spent a good ten minutes watching him walk in circles, scratch his head, and then finally raise his gun up and take a shot at a little tree squirrel. From this angle and knowing it was coming, I could tell the gun was just a little twenty two. Not that he couldn’t still be plenty dangerous, but a small wave of relief washed over me to find out this guy was just an idiot out trying to get his dinner.

  With his prize now dangling from a string on his belt, the guy turned another circle, apparently trying to get his bearings again, and made off purposefully in a direction that would take him directly across our path. Now we really had a decision to make. Did we risk being spotted as he came by then continue to follow him, stop him and talk to him right here, or just stop him permanently?

  I again looked at RJ and he simply shrugged his shoulders and slowly sank down to hide in the tall grass and bushes.

  Apparently we had just decided that we were going to follow him home. The guy walked by about thirty feet from where we were, totally mindless and clueless that there could be anyone other than himself in these woods. After he passed by, I let him get a ways ahead of us to give plenty of room between his bumbling and our stalking. He was headed in a s
traight line and I took a moment to pull the folded map from my leg pocket and put my compass to it. The guy was making directly for the area I had penciled in as the Bradson’s house.

  Once he hit the driveway, the guy picked up speed to the old hippy homestead. The Bradson’s place was actually a mishmash of buildings, barns, cars and sheds. I had only been inside the house once before, as I was usually just picking up or dropping off my friend Rob, and the guy in plaid went right for what I recognized as the front door.

  RJ and I belly crawled to a spot where we could just barely see into the variable compound of buildings. There was no noise of dogs, or chickens, or any other farm animals to be heard. We laid there scoping it out for a while and I pointed out the driveway alarm sensor pinned to a tree on the edge of the lane. I was sure the batteries had died a long, long time ago, but an idea was starting to take shape in my head.

  “You recognize the guy?” RJ asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “No, but it was a big family. Could be a cousin or son in law… or anybody.”

  “Well do we go ring the doorbell then or what?”

  His impatience was understandable. I had asked him to come out here to do exactly what we were doing, and now we were seemingly stalled out.

  “You cover from here. I’ll trip the alarm. If no one comes out after a minute or so, I’ll walk up the driveway and call out to whoever’s there,” I told him.

  “You sure about this?”

  “No, so cover my ass if you see anyone.” I checked my weapon and glanced again at the map. “Rally One is here, Two is the mail boxes, and Three is our drop off point. You’ve got your map if you have to E and E. Radio check,” I whispered the instructions then we each broke squelch on the little handheld radios we were carrying. “If we get separated, check each rally point at midnight and again at dawn, then find your way home from there. Got it?”

  He gave me a quick thumbs up and put his eye back to the scope, searching the windows and doorways of the house and other buildings. I paused, remembering that his easy demeanor was a good thing and that he wasn’t just ignoring me or lost in the details. He had done this type of thing as a career and he really had in fact heard and processed everything I had just said.

  Sliding back to make my way around to the driveway, I tried to tell myself that this wasn’t stupid. I knew ideally that we should just wait it out and observe, but we didn’t have the supplies for an extended stay and so far, we really didn’t have any indication of anything actually being wrong. We were being cautious and this was what we came here to do, I repeated to myself.

  That’s right justify it…

  The little driveway sensor was placed just within eyesight of the house. It was maybe three hundred feet away, and there were thick bunches of trees on either side which hid me as I came up to it. The white plastic casing on it was faded yellow and if I hadn’t remembered that they had an alarm in some distant corner of my mind, I doubt I would have seen it if it had have been simply spray painted a darker color.

  I was now right up on the other side of the tree that the sensor was attached to. Crouching motionless for a few moments, I scrutinized the surroundings and let the forest settle back down after my intrusion. Even after all this time, I would still swear that the trees and rocks along with the birds and bugs could actually feel that you were an out of place thing in their world.

  Taking one last look around, I pinched the little microphone of the radio and softly spoke into it. “Tripping alarm now.”

  As planned, RJ broke squelch twice in my ear to confirm.

  Moving painfully slow, I reached my gloved hand around the base of the tree and waved it up in front of the focused sensor beam… if there was one.

  If I had a similar alarm, I would make sure the batteries were charged, this little device could really give you a heads up that someone was on their way, but after this long, I would be surprised if this little sensor still worked. We didn’t have to wait long to find out that it was in fact, still operable.

  Just as I was crouching back down into a more comfortable spot a few feet away from the sensor and its tree, loud noises could be heard coming from the house. The sound of a screen door slamming back on its spring came from the far side, and the scrape of a window objecting to being forced open was clear.

  Again there were a few long moments of waiting before I heard the loud call of a man’s voice.

  “Ed, you see anything?”

  Ed… Ed… I was searching my brain, trying to remember the names of all the family members; it had been too long ago.

  I didn’t hear the reply, but a gruff voice on my side of the house again yelled out, “Well something’s out there! Either kill it so we can eat it or just kill it!”

  Time for a gamble… “Hello there,” I called out, emerging from the bushes. “Don’t shoot… I’m a friend of the family, just stopping by to see how everyone is…”

  And that’s why I didn’t play poker. As soon as I spoke all hell broke loose, starting with a single ear piercing shot from the direction of the house. I had intentionally not locked my knees as I was standing in the driveway, giving myself a little better chance of a quick first step, and that little trick alone might have saved my life.

  I didn’t know where the first shot went, but it didn’t hit me. All I did know was that I was not going to be an easy target again.

  I was rushing now through the woods, trying to avoid the low branches of the nearby trees and the treacherous ankle turning rocks along my path.

  Another couple of shots rang out, followed by a pause, then one more, the last one much closer to me this time. I only fleetingly noticed it though as my attention was drawn much more to the severe stinging in my left hand. My forward momentum halted as I threw my body to the ground, the soft part of my upper leg bouncing painfully on a rock. Lying still, I forced myself to quit shaking my hand and flexing the pain out of my fingers.

  Looking down I didn’t see any blood, then I saw why. The magazine in my AK had been blown apart by a bullet strike. It was splintered and sheared off about four inches down. The shock of the hit must have been what jarred my hand so badly. It was a miracle I wasn’t hit or seriously hurt, especially considering that I usually held the AK by the magazine right where it had been blown apart.

  My momentary reflection was interrupted by an electronic voice in my ear. “One down at the house. Still don’t have eyes on the other guy.”

  “Copy,” I radioed back.

  From my position I wasn’t able to open the flap of the pouch on my side that had my spare ammo magazines in it, so I had to shift my body just enough… apparently too much. A dry stick I was laying on had had enough and snapped under my weight. It didn’t take but a second for the volley of .22 rounds to start peppering my area.

  “No shot, no shot,” RJ’s voice again said into my ear, this time a little louder and more urgent.

  Until the angles changed, I was on my own. If I could get this guy to move, RJ might be able to spot him and take him out, and that meant I was going to have to move myself.

  Another salvo erupted and gray dirt sprayed in little geysers closer still to my position. I tried to count the rounds fired before they stopped again, but really, I had no clue.

  As soon as the little .22 went quiet I was up and moving. Either this guy had a huge magazine, could reload quick as snot, or I couldn’t count, because the gun again opened up on me and the sound of the bullet strikes were coming ever closer.

  “Goddamnit this is horse shit! Why am I always the one getting shot at? Doesn’t anyone want to talk a little before they try to kill me? MOVE LEGS!” The thoughts were screaming through my head as I high stepped over an old stump and changed directions to duck behind a low fold in the ground, giving myself some semblance of cover.

  Peeking around the other side of the hill I was now hiding behind, my eye caught the hint of movement through the trees, way too close to my present spot. I brought the AK up and fired my one and onl
y shot before realizing the folly of still not having put a new magazine into the gun.

  The single small, high velocity shot wasn’t wild, but it wasn’t perfect either, drilling him through the top of his right shoulder. The shock and sound of the suppressed gunshot stopped the squirrel hunter in his tracks as he tried to acknowledge that he had just been shot. His bewilderment kept him standing in one spot, which was just fine by me as I tossed my temporarily crippled AK aside. My right hand landed on the grip of my pistol and jerked it from the holster.

  My sudden motion aided in his finally being able to pinpoint a target and he looked like he wanted to turn towards me. All he accomplished was to give me a square shot at a target that was standing in one spot.

  Driving the Glock forward, my finger was on the trigger before my eyes had even found the sights. The full metal jacketed bullets thumped into his body, zippering up from his groin to his neck as my eyes caught up to my hands. He began to crumple and I continued working rounds into him, following his body’s descent. In short order, it was over. An eerie and forced silence once again reigned over the woods.

  “Scratch two... stay in position, I’m checking my guy now,” I keyed the transmit button on my radio.

  Scooping up my AK I released the destroyed magazine, inserted a fresh one, and worked the bolt as I approached the latest casualty of this fiasco. I was almost surprised to see that he was still alive, barely. His breathing was rapid and shallow and his shirt was already soaked through with blood. His gun was still within his reach, but he didn’t have the strength to lift it even if he wanted to.

  “Who are you and why are you here?” I knelt down and asked him, patting down his pockets and belt line and scanning the area around us all at the same time.

  “Came for food…” his lips splattered with blood.

  “Where is the family that lived here? What happened to them?”

  “Saw them at the store… followed them here. Sorry… I’m sorry,” His voice was weak and raspy, his chest heaving to work with what little blood he had left.