The Fighter Series (Book 1): Not Alone (The Beginning)

by Kolleen Bookey

  Jack, somewhat amused by all the theatrics, waited for him to wrap his fingers around the grip before he pulled the trigger of his 45. A flame ignited a flash of light into the blackness. Fair. The echo from the blast bounced off the canyon walls and disappeared into the depth of the night. Poker.

  The bullet shattered the bone in the man’s shoulder. The impact shoved him against the sides of the railing, which splintered in half against the weight. Scrambling to keep his footing while holding to his pistol, he barely caught the remaining post. The knife flew across the deck landing just short of Jack’s feet. The wounded man dangled over the side of the rail with nothing but a steep drop off below him. His fingers wrapped tightly around the post to keep from falling. His gun clutched in his free hand.

  Jack moved closer keeping his pistol aimed at the man and looked down. “I’ll show you the same curtesy you showed the women.” With his foot, Jack kicked the post.

  The man screamed out. “You fucking asshole!” He fired into the air as he plummeted downward. Blake stepped in beside Jack and looked down over the balcony.

  “I wonder how steep that is.” Blake said. They both stared down the steep sides of the canyon, but there was only darkness.

  “Let’s go.”

  They didn’t make it past the slider when another explosion of repeat automatic gunfire filled the room. All the glass doors exploded into tiny fragments blasting out a cloud of raining glass. Blake twisted around from the outside wall and then sent a barrage of rounds into the house. Casings fell to the deck rolling off the edges and in between that slats.

  “Three.” Blake said. “A few ran.”

  Gunpowder permeated the air while distorted shadows danced under the moon’s blue light. More concerning was the waves of smoke rolling down the hall. Jack reached in a pulled a dead man out to the deck and took his gun. It was time. They needed to get the women and go.

  “Let’s go.”

  Crunching over blankets of glass and empty casings, Blake cleared the hallway allowing them a pathway to find the door that might lead to the cellar.

  “Here,” Blake said. He tapped the end of his rifle on a mismatched panel in the wall. It sounded hollow.

  “That’s it.”

  Jack searched with his fingertips for a switch. Precious minutes slipped by. The women weren’t far, but Matt was in need of medical help and another wave of Ringo’s men showed. They needed to recover everyone before all hell broke loose.

  “We’re in.” Blake said opening the door. “You still with us Coop?”

  Jack moved past him, stepping through the opening. Blake stood at the entry, pressing his body into the wall and waited.

  “Affirmative.” It was a whisper. “Mother and son are in route.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Riley and the girls reached Bakersfield around three in the afternoon. While ghosts swirled in the dust devils broken billboards star cased hometown heroes like Kevin Harvick and Casey Mears. In Riley’s mind, she could hear Merle Haggard’s voice holding steadfast in the lost soundwaves. After seeing it with her own eyes, she understood why Bakersfield had been so popular with country singers, racecar drivers, and cowboys. It was dusty, smelled like fertilizer and held some kind of magic that made you want to go out buy a cowboy hat and ride a mechanical bull into wee hours of early morning. Just smelling the air made her thirsty for a cold beer.

  So far, the information for safe places to rest had been reliable and Bakersfield was a good stopping point before wrestling the road to Prescott. No doubt, Riley was anxious and though her heart told her he was alive, she knew the chances of not finding Eric to be great. The girls were asleep giving her ample freedom to test her memory regarding the night she left Mark. She needed to remember because someone tried to kill her and save her all in a period of two days. That night she’d woken to find her gun on the chair across from her bed where she slept. She’d gone to Jackson’s, finished her last shift the night after and stepped out into the parking lot. The parking lot! Tim Hunt and his wife executed. What happened to the little girl? She couldn’t remember as much as she tried.

  Her memories raced forward to a woman she’d encountered the day she fled from the hospital. Her face pummeled into hamburger. Riley would never forget. Even if the woman had lived, she’d never look human again. Tears had poured from the one good eye while the other had hung grotesquely from its socket. All but one finger was gone on one hand. The other hand was a bloody bandage of crimson red strips that had fallen away from the stubs. Blood was everywhere.

  “I was lucky.” Riley said aloud remembering the infected that’d advanced like hyenas. “Eric, you’d better be alive.”

  “I want to be soldier.” He’d told her in high school. Being twins, she tried not to show her disappointment. She hoped they’d go to college together, live in the same town and spend every Christmas together. In their senior year, Eric enlisted in the Navy. Riley, enrolled in college, supporting him in his dreams without giving away her disappointment. Their relationship remained strong, calling the other at least once a week, often times more. Some years later on a trip back to the states, he told her that he’d advanced in his training. Eric had always been a risk taker, an extremist to the end. She had seen the change. Her fun loving brother became a Navy Seal overnight. However, Eric was human and his heart beat just like the rest of them.

  “Historic Ghost Town Ahead.” Riley read aloud, finally distracted from her turbulent thoughts. “They sent us to a ghost town.” It was fitting for their last chapter before reaching Prescott.

  In reality, they’d passed ghost town after ghost town, but this one was the real deal. Bodfish smelt like Bakersfield, fertilizer, dirt, and cows. The wind stirred on que as if knowing trespassers approached. Stopping the truck, Riley woke the girls. Several dirt devils swirled in the middle of the street dancing and spinning perfectly choreographed.

  “Cool!” Utah pressed her face to the glass. Megan joined her. “What is this place?”

  “Ghost town.” There was a degree of irony to her answer.

  “Where are the horses?” Utah asked.

  “Better yet, where are the cowboys?” Riley murmured.

  “Is there a school here too?” Utah and Riley looked at Megan who ignored them completely.

  “Probably. It’s well preserved.”

  “What does pres….ubed... mean,” Megan asked.

  “Pre-serv-ed. It means to keep something nice.” Riley explained.

  They drove until they found the motel. A grey haired man stepped out into the street and motioned Riley to stop. His old and once tan cowboy hat sat low shielding his eyes from the falling sun. His button up cowboy shirt hung loose enough on his thin frame to flap in the wind.

  “There’s a cowboy.” Utah said.

  Riley grinned. “Not exactly what I meant.” He approached close enough for her to see blue eyes. His rifle just as old as he was.

  “Is he a ghost?” Megan asked, staring at the old man.

  Riley chuckled. “No silly.”

  “He looks like a ghost.” Megan said.

  Riley rolled down the window. “Shelly and Brian, Shirley’s kids sent us.”

  Max leapt down on her lap, his claws grazing the back of Riley’s neck. She shrieked as he made a flying leap out the window onto the ground. The old man swung his rifle toward Max.

  “No,” She yelled, jumping out of the truck.

  The old man shifted and turned on her. Riley stared at the end of the old rifle. The weapon shook in the old man’s hands.

  “What are you saying girl,” he yelled out.

  A saving angel was the grey haired woman who stepped out onto the deck. The heel of her boots clicking on the wood below. She put a hand on the old man’s shoulder and yelled, “She said, Shelly and Brian sent her.”

  “Oh,” He said, lowering the gun. “Sorry, I’m hard of hearing. Hell, I thought that grey thing was a giant rabid squirrel or something. What is that fur ball?”

 
Megan giggled. Riley took a deep breath grateful he hadn’t shot at Max.

  “A cat,” Riley yelled. “A very healthy cat.”

  “You travel with a cat, aint heard of no such thing.” He shouted.

  “Park in the rear left stall. There’s a back door. Just come on through there when you’re done,” the woman said. Time had been kind to her. She was beautiful.

  “Thank you.” Riley glanced around looking for Max. It was obvious the way he darted from the truck that he needed to potty. He’d find them when he was ready and maybe after all the shouting stopped. This is going to be a long night. If only she had known.

  With their bags in hand, they made their way through the backdoor of the saloon into what turned into a modern style motel. Polished wood and granite counter tops framed the reception area with style. Western style rugs blanketed the floors while on the walls were photos of movies stars, famous animals and unforgettable movies from the 50s to 2013. Over the all river-rock fireplace was an oversized portrait of John Wayne, which completed the room.

  “I’m Rose, Hank over there is the cantankerous one,” she said pointing at the old man. “He usually wears a hearing aid, but misplaced it this morning. We’re all hoping he finds it soon.”

  “We?” Riley asked, “Are there others here?”

  “We always have a house full.” She paused and then said “If they like you they’ll show themselves.” She continued talking as she stacked towels and wash clothes onto the counter. “I think you’ll like room 224.” She said looking down at Utah. “Up the stairs and down the hall. It’ll be on the right.”

  “224”, Utah smiled at Rose. Rose returned it.

  “Dinner is at six, breakfast at five.” She handed Riley the towels and handed the key to Utah. “The lights are a little tricky in that room, but I think you can handle it.”

  “Thank you mam,” Utah said. Riley saw her cheeks flush and her eyes sparkle.

  “Chow hall is just around this corner here.”

  “Chow already woman!” Hank growled.

  “No Hank, I was just telling…..oh never mind.” She yelled. “Find your dam hearing aid would you?”

  While Hank mumbled, Riley led the girls up to their room. Riley was thinking, a quick run before dinner maybe. Hours in the driver’s seat was beginning to make her legs feel stiff. In our room was a small living room, kitchenette and a dry bar. There were two bedrooms, one being the Master suite and the other a guest bedroom with carefully selected matching wood tables all with horseshoes and with a southwestern flair. Old west paintings decorated the walls. Riley loved it.

  “Can we help Rose in the kitchen?” Utah asked. Riley swore the kid could read her mind making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end.

  “We could ask.”

  “Are you going for a run?” Utah asked knowing then there was a knock at the door. Riley jumped.

  Rose was standing behind the door wiping her hands with a dishtowel. “I forgot why I came up here.” She said. “Oh well, how’s the room?” She asked.

  “It’s very nice.” Riley said.

  “Good. Hey would you girls like to help me in the kitchen?” She asked. “Hank’s got a hunkering for some peanut butter cookies and I could use some cookie helpers.

  Megan squealed.

  “That is a …good idea.” Riley said raising her eyebrows a touch. Eerie “Maybe I’ll take a short run then.”

  “Take your time honey. We’re not going anywhere.” She replied. “Keep in mind though this is a real ghost town.”

  “I won’t be long.” The girls were already following Rose out the door. Watching Rose walking away reminded Riley of her own mom. I love you mom.

  As the sun descended, purple and orange streaks filled the sky. Instantly, Riley settled into a steady pace forcing anxiety to fade. The only sound was her footfalls connecting with the sand and dirt. A rush of release washed over her listening to the rhythm of breath and stride. In a short time, she’d ran the perimeter of the ghost town. She bypassed the straightaway that’d take her back to the motel circling back one more time. When Riley finally stopped to cool down, she was in the middle of the ghost town. The post office was to the right of her and several older buildings to the left. From where she stood, the buildings appeared larger the evening eerily too quiet with the exception of the stir of the wind. Once again, in a ghost town feeling as though someone were watching her.

  She stared at the old buildings. Somewhere down the line of weathered doors and rusted nails, and loose door hinges, something clattered. Then as if all senses heightened, she could hear everything, creaks, moans and the wind. The shadows of desertion and abandonment drew her forward.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Sweat trickled down her neck and face between clothes chilling her. From where she stood, the long-standing general store invited her in. Her shoes left footprints in the dust covered wooden plank sidewalk along with the handful of tumbled weeds permanently pressed to the sides. Overhead a hand-lettered sign read “Hardgrave General Store.” A closed sign hung sideways in the window faded and cracked. The door creaked loud enough to wake the dead and the wind pressed through open cracks whistling a high-pitched tune. The wooden floor moaned under her as she stepped into the darkening shadows of the building. Fixed shelves and loose barrels, long since abandoned, remained relics of the past. Inhibiting the empty space was a strong energy of things bygone. It was good and it was evil.

  Riley trembled. Maybe it was the sudden appearance of the apple and orange filled barrels, empty bins unexpectedly full of rice, and flour. Before she could ascertain the how, canned jellies and tomatoes appeared from nowhere. The store was alive. Rows of jars filled with hard candy lined the front counter. The scent of fresh bread, cinnamon and coffee beans invaded the air. How were Rose and Hank doing this? Holographs? Scented candles? Riley reached out to touch a pair of before-her-time lace up boots. The leather folded under her touch making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She didn’t know whether to retreat or test the plate of cookies sitting on the counter. Peanut butter! Feeding her curiosity, she reached out and felt the warmth of the plate. Riley jerked back seconds from fleeing. A woman emerged into the room the material of her dress swishing with each step. Her slender ivory hands swept blonde ringlets away from her face. Nervously, she looked in Riley’s direction.

  “Uhhh…sorry….I..” Riley fumbled her words.

  “Good afternoon.” She said.

  If they like you, they’ll show themselves.

  A skinny beady-eyed man with thinning hair now stood behind the counter. I blinked trying to make sense of it all. Sweat shone high on his forehead. He stared at the woman.

  “Don’t just stand there Ellie.” The weasel attempted an authoritative tone.

  Placing a hand on his hip, he intentionally allowed his elbow to brush Ellie’s back. The worn material of the dress hung in soft folds, hugging Ellie’s slender body. She made the worn dress delicate and beautiful. Riley looked down pretending to look at something not ignoring Ellie who’d shifted trying to free herself from the weasel’s touch. He moved closer to Ellie, his eyes searching over her shoulder. Riley stomach churned. She couldn’t help but think this was an elaborate mind game. Am I dead, she thought?

  A tall shadow entered from the side door his body brushing past hers. Riley felt an immediate sense of evil and a coldness that stayed. She felt flesh, bone but no beating heart. The aroma of tobacco and whiskey lingered after him. Riley slid behind an isle and watched.

  Ellie dropped the container she was holding. It crashed and then shattered on the floor. The dark man stepped in front of her glass crunching under his feet. Ellie froze. Slowly, he reached across the counter for her chest stroking the neckline of her dress with his fingertips. The thinner man scurried backward.

  “What do you think your doin here Ellie?” Pause. “If you want to work, I’ll put you to work.” He said. Everything about him was dark.

  “Please let me go ho
me Spade.” She said.

  Hidden, Riley was stuck in place. Suddenly she felt a gun in her hand. What? Necessity warranted that she stroke the trigger. She did. I’m becoming a part of the game but how? She looked to Ellie and then to the man called Spade, feeling an immense sense of familiarity not so much about the actual events but rather of the people.

  Ellie tried to ignore him. Her face flushed red. Ellie trembled: Riley trembled. Riley was no longer hiding she was standing in front of Spade. Somehow, Riley had become Ellie. Riley felt the warmth easing across her cheeks and a fear constricting her thoughts. Spades hand was on Riley’s arm now. The vice like grip pinched her skin. No longer in running clothes, she was wearing Ellie’s dress. Underneath, awkward under garments pressed into curves. Feeling a surge of anger, having survived the cruelty of Mark, lived after being shot multiple times and still surviving the Shift, she didn’t appreciate the brutality of this game.

  “Let go of me.” Riley said assuming she was looking into two tunnels of blackness because those eyes had no soul. Her skin burned as she tried to peel his fingers away. “Rose, Hank end this now.” She demanded.

  “Who the fuck are Rose and Hank?” Spade clenched his teeth. “I told you Ellie. You’re not going home and if he comes looking for you, I’ll kill the bastard.”

  He was either an exceptional actor or the devil. Evil filled his face, his blue nearly silver eyes. Long jagged scars twisted around his high cheekbone, up, and under his eyes. Without realizing it, she trembled. Her throat constricted. “Enough.” She said.

  “Ellie. I don’t have time for this.” Hearing his teeth grind made her think of Mark. He wasn’t Mark but he was someone she’d feared before. An enormous heat radiated off his body and the smell of sweat mixed with the scent of oak touched her nose.

  Out of fear or shock, Riley stood in place. Spade’s broad shoulders loomed over her giant-like. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. Stumbling, Riley caught the bottom of the dress and it tore. No longer in running shoes but in some high-heeled boot made walking nearly impossible. Pulling her close while passing through the side door they entered into a smoke filled saloon.