by E A Lake
Within 15 minutes, Hunter heard sounds by the open window next to Karen. Karen heard them as well and readied herself. The window was directly to her left, and no more than two feet away; she turned slightly to face the opening. Trying to steady her breathing, her eyes focused diligently on the dark opening. She couldn’t see anyone yet, but she heard the same sounds Hunter had. Someone was close, someone stepping carefully amongst the broken glass just outside. These sounds gave Karen and Hunter the warning they needed.
Outside, the intruder crept carefully, trying to be silent. The sounds of glass snapping under his feet were barely audible to him. Perhaps the people inside couldn’t hear them at all. He leaned against the side of the window and peered inside. As he had expected, this was the living room. He eyed the room carefully, searching for any signs of life. He was almost certain someone had been in this room earlier. But perhaps they had all regrouped in the next room over. If he could just sneak inside, and take out the single lone male with his knife, the battle would be all but over. Guardedly he leaned further in the window for one last better look around.
Karen saw the head first, followed by a torso. The intruder looked toward the dining room opening, away from Karen. She waited, and he withdrew his body from the window. Karen raised her gun slowly, anticipating his next move. Almost on cue one long leg came in through the window, followed by the front of the fellow, facing Karen.
He saw Karen, but it was late – far too late. She jabbed her gun into his ribs and pulled the trigger. The weapon exploded, and the menace slumped out the window. He died with one leg still draped over the inside frame of the living room window.
Karen quivered as she realized what she had just done. Adrenalin rushed through her veins as she quickly pumped the spent shell out of its chamber and pushed a new fresh shell inside. She didn’t bother resetting the safety. She expected another attack very soon.
Hunter watched the events unfold from his corner. The man was too close to Karen for Hunter to shoot. He didn’t want to take any chance on accidentally hitting his teammate. He saw Karen turn slightly as she prepared for the shot. Throwing the gun into the man's body, she had pulled the trigger. There was no muzzle flash, only a small muffled explosion from the gun. Karen executed the task perfectly. She executed the man perfectly.
Theresa stared anxiously in Hunter’s direction. Only after he was sure the intruder was dead, and Karen had reloaded, did he look at the nun. He nodded slightly, hoping Theresa would see his acknowledgment. Somehow in the dark, she saw him nod against the white door behind his position. She breathed a shallow sigh of relief.
As Hunter glanced back at Theresa, he saw movement out front of her position. Someone had taken a position right outside the screened porch, and pointed something in his direction. He ducked back deep into his corner as an arrow buried itself in the door, just above his head. Hunter rose to shoot, but saw a second man standing next to the first with another crossbow pointed directly at him. Hunter quickly dropped to the floor.
Theresa stood and took aim out the front window. The second man saw her movement and trained his shot on her. Seeing the second man pointed at her, Theresa froze. The first man wildly attempted to reload his weapon. Theresa pulled her trigger as the other man pulled his. Her shot only scraped the man, but his shot struck home. Theresa collapsed to the floor with a loud thud. Struck by a foreign object. Something burned. Something in her shoulder hurt so badly. An arrow had found its target.
Hunter rose a third time, and took careful aim at the man who had shot Theresa. He heard her collapse but stayed trained on his target. The man turned to run; he yelled for his partner to do the same. He might have gotten away, except for one fatal flaw. Like his partner in crime, the man wore a dirty white T-shirt – not white enough to stand out plainly in the darkness, but just white enough for Hunter to follow. He pulled the trigger.
Not knowing if his first shot hit home, Hunter cocked another round into the old 30-30. The spent shell clanged on the wooden floor next to his feet as he shot again at the dull white object disappearing into the night. Quickly, he rammed in one last shell but lost his target. Either that man lay dead in the yard or he had escaped. They’d know soon enough. Light would arrive within an hour, two at the most.
Hunter dashed for Theresa in the darkness. She writhed in pain on the floor. At least she was still alive. Guttural moans escaped her throat as she tossed about, unable to keep still.
She reached out for Hunter as he bent down to assess the damage. “Pull it out. Get it out of me,” Theresa cried in a low moaning voice, mostly through her teeth. Reaching out again wildly to grab Hunter in the darkness, she dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. He felt the arrows location, high in the left shoulder. Real high. Hopefully nothing more than a thick flesh wound, but he’d need light to confirm it. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself, given Theresa’s obvious pain.
Leaning forward, he spoke to her softly. “It’s okay. It’s high and real fleshy up there. No major arteries to worry about.” He felt the tip of the arrow sticking out the backside of Theresa’s shoulder. “May have chipped off some bone, but it should be fine.” He tried to comfort the nun.
She gripped his shirt again, this time by the neck. “Then pull it out. Please.”
Karen heard Theresa’s desperate cries. “Hunter?” She called out from her hiding spot in the living room.
“Theresa’s hit, Karen. Not life threatening, but I’m pretty sure it hurts.” Reaching down, he gently rubbed Theresa’s unwounded shoulder. “Come on in here. The action is probably over for tonight. They’re down to one or two now. Probably only one.” Hunter heard Karen rise and dash into the dark dining room. She knelt next to the pair.
As Hunter turned to say something to Karen, she threw herself into his body and clutched him tightly. He could feel soft sobs coming from Karen. Slowly, he reached around the scared girl and hugged her lightly with one arm. Karen finally broke the embrace and quickly wiped away her tears as she bent over Theresa.
“Sister, are you all right?” Karen felt the arrow sticking out of the nuns left shoulder as Theresa lay against the stove. “Oh my God, this is bad, Hunter. Do something.” Hunter leaned in again, taking Theresa’s pulse.
“I need to see how much it might be bleeding before I just pull it out, Karen. It will be light soon. We can carefully do it then.” Hunter peeked cautiously out front. There was no movement anywhere. He sighed; this was good. “Run downstairs and give them all a quick update. Keep it calm, though. Then get back up here and grab your gun again. You know, just in case.” Karen took off for the basement. Hunter leaned down toward Theresa again. “We’re going to be fine now, Sister. Even you.”
Theresa let out a deep breath between her clenched teeth. Staring up at Hunter, she leaned her head against the stove. “I know. And thank God we are all safe, Hunter.” The nun chuckled slightly. “But, this really hurts.” He nodded and sat down next to his friend.
Chapter Thirty-six
Morning’s first light found Hunter and Karen staring out the front windows of the house. The war appeared to be over. Just outside Karen’s living room perch lay a dead man. Further straight out from that body laid another. That was the man shot by both Karen and Hunter in the early evening. Twenty yards in front of Hunter’s dining room window lay yet another corpse.
Hunter recalled there would be another body out past the garden in the south and one near the road in front of the house. One last body would most likely be found south in the tree line. That made six dead, cursed souls. Six men who hadn’t needed to die but chose to die trying to take this meaningless dull house, a house Hunter’s group defended as strongly as possible.
Assessing their injuries was an easier task for Hunter. Sara had a slight wound on her left thigh that would probably leave a scar on her fair skin, but she’d be all right. Mary needed her right eye looked at as soon as they had time. Hunter didn’t believe she’d lose the eye, though it might be scratc
hed badly, and Mary may need to wear an eye patch for a while. She’d be less than thrilled about that he was sure.
Most worrisome was the wound to Theresa’s left shoulder. Hunter and Karen carefully pulled the arrow out once they had enough light. The wound bled well, and Hunter poured half a bottle of peroxide on the two holes. Karen scrubbed it thoroughly and packed it with a clean towel. Within a half hour, all bleeding had stopped, and now the wound just hurt the tired nun. Presently, she sat next to Hunter with her back against the outside wall of the dining room.
Other than the few injuries, their group – Theresa’s family – was tired and hungry, but mostly tired. Five babies were in desperate need of warm bottles and clean diapers, but had slept most of the night. Sara, Sheila, and Emily had done their assigned task perfectly. They had every right to be proud of themselves this morning. Hunter hoped the last man would leave soon; they needed to get to the clothesline in the backyard for more clean diapers.
Hunter was positive he could see the sole survivor’s back leaning against a tree in the thick brush, just past the pump. By now he must know he’d lost, thought Hunter. Hunter planned on waiting him out. The single man would eventually leave, come and surrender, or Hunter would go out in the afternoon and find he had already left this wretched world. Any of the three choices were fine with him.
About 10:30, the last remaining hoodlum stood and faced the house through the brush. After closely examining the situation, he called out to the group inside.
“I’m coming out. I’m unarmed.” The dirty man appeared to be about 30, maybe a year or two older. He might even be 20, Hunter supposed. Life on the road had a way of aging people rapidly. Slowly, the single person walked down the drive with his hands in his pockets. Hunter carefully exited the back door to meet the last man half way. They stopped 10 yards apart, staring at one another. Neither face showing any emotion.
“Had enough?” Hunter spoke just loud enough for his adversary to hear. A small grin crept across the other man’s face.
“Yeah, that didn’t go as planned. I’m it.” He surveyed the dead bodies in the yard. “You killed everyone else.” He shrugged plainly, no big deal; to him at least. “So what now? You gonna kill me? Get it over with?”
Hunter shook his head at the defeated soul. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. You forced our hand. We had to defend ourselves.” Hunter glanced at the dead body of the group’s former leader. He had been the last of theirs to die. “I’m not going to kill you. There’s been enough death here already. Move on, I don’t want to see you anymore.” Hunter waved at the man to leave.
The man’s eyes focused on Hunter. “Move on exactly where? I mean let’s face it; I’m probably better off dead than back on the road. The road’s just one shitty minute after another. Nothing good happens out there. The proof’s laying all around here.” His head slumped forward. “We never stood a chance against guns. We knew that. It’s just that a person can only get so tired, so hungry, so thirsty, so damn lonely before they do something stupid like this.”
Hunter nodded at his words. The truth lay all about.
“So kill me and send me to hell. It’s the same as going back out there. Probably better dead than alive now.”
Hunter sighed deeply. “No. Go. No more killing. If you head north on that road, you’ll find some decent places within a day or so. Maybe somewhere that will take in a single man. Just don’t let them know what you’ve been up to. You need to change your ways. You need to get off the road. Maybe find a church that needs help. Maybe look for a large family on a farm that can use a strong man. Just get off the road. That’s no place to live, and it sure as hell ain’t no place to die.” Hunter turned to go back inside.
Karen handed him a small bag from the porch, and he walked it over to the man.
“Get some water before you leave,” Hunter said. “Here’s some food. You need this. It ain’t much, but it’s probably more than you’ve had in the last week I imagine. Go. I don’t ever want to see you again. Don’t make me kill you in the future, please.” Hunter disappeared into the porch as the man turned and walked to the pump. He spent the next two minutes drinking water and cleaning up a little. The next time Hunter looked outside the man, and any remaining threat, had simply vanished.
Inside, everyone had come up from their basement tomb. Babies needed to be changed, and bottles needed to be prepared. The needs of the five tiniest residents brought normalcy back to the house faster than Hunter could believe. Each girl hugged and played with her child. Even Mary, whose eye was slightly better this morning, laughed and played with a now happy Rachel. While taking it in, reality crept into Hunter’s mind. The last 24 hours had been rough for everyone. The five teens had performed so much better than Hunter could have ever believed they would. Each one had shown courage and strength beyond her young years. But reality would sink in. Maybe – not at that moment, maybe not even this evening, but within a day or two – all would realize just how close the end had been. Never again would they be caught off guard.
Hunter wandered into the living room and found Sister Theresa leaning back on one of the two brown, overstuffed couches. She appeared to be sleeping, but hearing Hunter enter the room, she slowly opened her eyes and focused on him. They both looked tired, real tired. They’d had everything and a little more thrown their way. A lesser person would have snapped; a lesser person would have frozen. But somehow, almost by a miracle, they both did their duties and kept the girls in the present.
Theresa shook her head slightly as Hunter approached. She raised her right hand to her mouth as her eyes began to fill with tears. Tears of sorrow, tears of happiness, tears of relief. Hunter reached for her as she rose. They came together as Theresa hugged the man as tight as she could. She squeezed him with all the strength she had left in her tiny body. Hunter felt the sobs rip through Theresa as she buried her head in his chest. He put his strong arms around the woman and gently squeezed back. He didn’t want to take a chance of hurting her already injured shoulder.
Time stood still as Hunter held the crying nun. All around them, life continued, the babies demanded the teens’ full attention. In little groups here and small groups there, the girls hugged one another. They shared a few tears with each other. But purposely, they left Hunter and Theresa alone in their quiet embrace. Finally, Hunter pulled away. With her right hand, Theresa took hold of his forearm. He smiled down at her face, deep into her eyes.
“You know,” Theresa started, “the reason I pushed you so hard is because I wanted you to be the man you deserved to be. It wasn’t for us, or our protection – it was for you, Hunter.”
He felt a knot form in his throat hearing her words. “Thank you for that, Sister. Thank you for believing in me, even when I had no hope left.” He nodded before continuing. “I need to go get Henry and a son so they can help me collect the bodies. We’ll load them in the wagon and take them over to that swamp just east of here. We’ll bury them. I don’t know why, but we will. I suppose it’s the decent thing to do.” Theresa nodded through her tears.
“I suppose I should try and help out where I can. Now that I’ve seen my wound, it doesn’t appear to be all that bad.” She studied Hunter’s caring face.
“Why don’t you just sit for a bit?” he said. “I’ll have Ruth and Rebecca come over and help. After they hear what’s happened, I’m sure they’ll want to.” Hunter helped Theresa back down onto the couch. “The girls have things well in hand.” He turned to leave.
“You were right, Hunter.” He turned back to Theresa, hearing her words. He wore a slightly puzzled look on his face. “When you said we’d make it, we’d be fine. You were right. Thank you.”
Hunter turned and left for Henry’s.
Chapter Thirty-seven
The stunned Mueller’s listened to Hunter’s account of the previous 24 hours. They had not heard a thing from the large white house a mere half-mile east of their place. A light west wind kicked up late afternoon the day before and mo
ved just hard enough throughout the night to take all sound away from their ears to the empty lands east of Theresa’s home.
Ruth and Rebecca went immediately to help the girls and Theresa. Gone were any stern expressions. Ruth was loving and kind to each and every last girl, even if most of them still couldn’t put a cloth diaper on properly. Rebecca attended to Theresa and Mary personally. She made sure their wounds were properly cleaned and dressed. The injured pair sat quietly in the living room while Rebecca attended to their every whim and desire. Ruth made sure Sara’s wound got a proper cleaning and dressing later in the day.
Hunter, Henry and his son Jonah needed three hours to collect the six dead bodies from around the house and take them for burial. The digging was easy in the swamp, and Henry insisted he and Jonah do all the work. Hunter was worn out enough already. He didn’t need to exert any further energy. While he might have normally insisted on helping, now Hunter sat on the back of the cart watching the men dig graves.
By the time the men buried the bodies and returned to the yard, it was almost dinnertime. They had one last chore, Henry stated. He and Jonah took a number of buckets of water and washed out the back of the cart. They wanted all signs of the conflict removed from any of the ladies’ sights and minds.
Ruth prepared a feast. The table was piled with a large amount of food that she brought from her own pantry and icebox. Except for their Amish friends, appetites were small that night. Ruth had expected this much. She cleared the table and stored the leftovers as best she could for the girls. They’d be hungry later – maybe not tonight but tomorrow for sure.
After dinner, Hunter and Henry placed sheets of plastic, found in the old shed, over the shot out windows of the house. Though only a temporary solution, the coverings would keep the elements, and more importantly bugs, from intruding into the dwelling. Henry informed Hunter and Theresa that he’d find replacements for the broken glass in the coming days. Within a week the home would show little damage left by the battle.