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

by Kolleen Bookey

  Remember this is the real thing. Rose’s words rung in her head.

  Intoxicated by the cigarette smoke, Riley dissected the cowboys and saloon girls visually. Everything to the cathouse dresses and shots of whiskey, jugs of beer and the old cowboy with a bullet riddled hat pounding on the piano seemed real. Women laughed while drunken men fondled them openly. An old cowboy was waving his gun at another.

  “Cheater,” he yelled. “You cheating son of a bitch.”

  The devil loosened his hold. A girl, no more than 16 years of age rushed past them, breasts exposed through thin material. In Riley’s mind, she as trying to convince herself that this wasn’t real, but fear was overriding reason. The only thing giving her comfort was the gun in her hand hidden in the folds of the dress.

  “You’d better straighten out Liza. Go clean yourself up.” Spade said. “You’ve got a cowboy waiting upstairs.” His free hand wrapped around her arm and then he pulled her closer to us. She looked at Riley, the fear in her eyes gleaming through her tears. Riley could smell old sex permeating of her skin.

  “Sorry Spade.” She cried as she ran off.

  “I warned you.” He turned to Riley. “It’s time you learn a lesson even if it is from a little girl.” A smile formed on his lips. “You’ll think twice about leaving my house after spending a few rounds with these animals.” He dipped his face so close to hers every scar on his skin appeared detailed.

  “I don’t think so.” She said.

  The slap came fast and hard stinging the skin on her cheek. The blow sent her backward, teeth splitting lips. Riley saw flashing white lights and then darkness while clutching the gun tighter.

  Seconds passed before the room blurred in a fade of colors. Riley climbed up off the floor while Spades back was turned. Concealing the pistol, she froze in place, legs placid and heavy. The floor creaked when the double doors flapped open and then closed. The room fell silent. Everything stopped at once even the cowboy banging on the piano. Riley held her place.

  Men parted, women moved across the room and thin streams of smoke twirled like miniature twisters from lit cigarettes and cigars. Dust rolled inward joining in the shadows of the fading sun. The cowboy standing in front of the double doors was merely a shadow, but the tracker had presence.

  I should have helped the girls bake cookies. This didn’t look good, it felt dangerous. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I do have a concussion. Riley blinked running her finger over her lips after tasting blood. Her hand and the side of her face stung. The cut on my face from the Walmart man? She reached up, but there was no gash. If she wasn’t asleep and she wasn’t dead, what was this?

  “Lucas.” Spade smiled. The doors moaned as if queued.

  “Spade!” The man’s voice was liquid smooth touching her ears with such familiarity she shook.

  Lucas stepped into the light just as her vision returned. He was ruggedly handsome with dark features blue/green eyes the color of a cloudless day. The outline of his body blocked most of the early evening sky trying to shower inward through the doorway. Looking at him sent a soft jolt of electricity through her. Lucas’s eyes met hers. Immediate warmth. Things were about to turn deadly.

  “Stop this.” Riley yelled out.

  There was no answer. No Hank and no Rose. Riley took a step forward, Spades fingers clamped around her arm. The heels of the boots caught in the planks of wood forcing Riley back into Spade’s hold.

  “Spade!” Lucas shouted. Spade had his pistol raised and held on Lucas now.

  Spades hand snaked out. He locked his fingers around her neck. She spun slipping away from him. Instantly she was posed and aiming her pistol at Spade’s heart. He smiled. With no forethought, Riley pulled the trigger. “Click.” Instant dread raced through her. She pulled the trigger again. “Click!” Lucas was approaching fast and Riley turned towards the footfalls. Spade latched onto her throat, squeezing down until her breath was clamped off.

  “I’m going to kill you both.” Spade spit.

  “Let her go!” Lucas said now close to them both.

  “It’s a good day for you to watch her die.” Spade laughed. “She’s got fire, I’ll give her that.” Feeling light headed, Riley closed her eyes.

  This is not real. I’m a victor, not a victim. She thought digging what little nails she had into his flesh. He lightened his hold and she thought aloud. Lucas was about to step forward but Spade stopped him.

  “Don’t!” Spade squeezed down and Riley struggled to stay awake.

  Riley reached up with both hands driven by panic dropping the gun to the floor. Clawing at flesh, she felt flesh peeling away. Spade held his revolver in his free hand aimed on Lucas. Lucas looked into her eyes and there was a moment where she saw a burst of a dream. Chalking it up to suffocation, she swore she saw them together. Lucas pulled the trigger on his revolver. The burst of flame shot out of the barrel but she heard nothing. Lucas aimed to miss her, hitting Spade in the chest. A warm spray of blood splattered across her face.

  Spades grip trembled and Lucas’s hand touched hers. He pulled her away from Spade. A rush of air entered her lungs. Lucas held Riley at his side pressing her into him. For a short moment, Riley felt him. It was as if she’d been there before. Lucas then pulled her back with him.

  Spade stumbled. A red stain spreading across his chest. “Time for you to join your brother.” He gurgled up spittle of blood.

  “Go to hell.” Lucas said.

  “If I go, you go.” Blood pooled on the floor beneath him.

  “We aren’t going the same direction.” Lucas said.

  The room remained silent. For Riley everything went into slow motion. Spade’s eyes, mirrored by an evil shadow, penetrated her soul. It was as if he were wrapping his own ugliness into her. Riley shut him off. Lucas wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. Blood oozed from his shoulder soaking his shirt. The smell of whiskey lingered on his breath.

  Spade taking his last breathes steadied himself and raised his pistol. Riley cried out, but Lucas was already holding his Colt 45.

  “Live.” He whispered to her.

  Lucas grabbed her and for an instant, Riley thought they’d exit out the swinging doors together. Instead, he shoved her outward. Riley fell on the wooden walkway just as several gunshots resonated in the now dusk sky. There was a rush of commotion as screams streamed outward. As her body connected on the wooden planks, everything went silent.

  The sun was almost gone. The shadows of the ghost town moved eerily in and out of the streets weaving its fingers towards her. Riley sat upright, trying to think. Looking down, she was back in running clothes. Not far from her lay a pistol. Twisting around, she looked at the saloon doors. Nothing but silence. A lone dust devil swirled in a sequence of touchdowns and liftoffs. Riley jumped when the wind caught climbing to her feet as the gun disappeared.

  Her pistol was safe in her shoulder holster. Walking at first back the way she came. Her throat was raw. As the sounds of the ghost town woke with the darkness, she began to run.

  Once at the motel, Rose, Utah and Megan looked at her with inquisitive faces. Hank strolled in from the front desk. He gave a quick glance and then stuck a carrot into his mouth. He took a bite and then pointed the tip of the carrot at her.

  “I see you met Spade.” He said. “By the looks of the handprint on your neck he had a good hold on you too. He must have really liked you.”

  “That’s a horrible game.” She said glancing over at Utah who had grown suddenly quiet. The girls face had gone pale and Riley saw the fear in her eyes.

  “That wasn’t no game misses. That was a premonition.” Hank said.

  Touching her neck, Riley went to the nearest mirror. The girls and Rose followed, but Hank stayed in the kitchen. The reflection revealed a set of Spade’s fingerprints on her neck. The blood on her lip was dry. Attempting to wipe it clean, it bled again.

  “Premonition?” Riley asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Rose murmured. “Best one
saved for dinner.”

  She and Megan turned back to the kitchen, but Utah hesitated.

  “Spade is a bad man.” Utah whispered and then followed Rose and her sister to the kitchen.

  Now, Riley stood in front of the mirror pondering what Utah had just said. Lucas resurfaced laying his hand on her shoulder. There was an instant charge between them as he moved closer to her. The saloon dress swished softly against his leg. Riley leaned back into him. His lips brushed her face. Then the air turned cool and he was gone.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jack heard the women’s voices from the top of the cellar stairs. He took the steps two at time downward. The cold seeped through his socks into his boots. The hand held light illuminated the space in front of him but further down he could see the flickering of flame. He wasn’t surprised or shocked at the conditions. Infected minds flourished in lawless times. Large number of the population was gone and not many left behind were like Jack and his teams. In fact, they were just the opposite. The face of a woman appeared through steel bars. Her skin smudged with dirt her eyes sunken back and outlined with dark circles.

  “Help us!”

  He started to move forward, but she retreated in her cell to a corner where darkness kept her hidden. He stopped. “You know Shay?”

  “Yes.” She said from the darkness.

  “She brought us here to take you home.” He said keeping himself visible in the light. “The keys?”

  Stepping out of the shadows, she pointed in the dark. The keys were dangling in front of the women, but too far to reach but close enough to see. Jack grabbed the key ring.

  “What’s your name?” Jack asked.

  Her jeans, no longer denim blue, were torn and dirty. The long sleeved shirt hung loosely from her body, paper-thin. “Sherry.” She whispered.

  The cell was no more than fifteen by twenty. Barely visible was a makeshift toilet and a provisional cot. The distinct odor of urine, feces, and mold was strong, but the darkness, dampness, and the isolation revealed the real cruelty. Modified and sectioned into individual holding cells, the cellar was a prison.

  “Hurry,” she whispered.

  Jack pinched his emotion. Calmly he sorted through the keys.

  Sherry pressed her face against the bars of the cell. “We thought Shay died?”

  “She isn’t dead.” He replied. “She came back for Jonah and all of you.” He said. “Amy, Sadie, Holly, and Terra.”

  “The men took Amy.”

  “She’s safe.” He slipped another key into the lock. It clicked and released open.

  “Here, over here.” A voice called further down the cellar.

  Jack moved down the row of cells. Sherry kept her distance, but remained behind Jack. He stepped towards the furthest cell where a young woman with reddish brown hair stood. Her fingers white knuckled the bars.

  “Is Blake here?” She whispered.

  “You must be Terra?” Jack said unlocking her cell.

  “Yes.” Terra reached for the keys. He handed them to her and she began unlocking the doors, motioning the girls to come out.

  “What’s happening Terra?”

  “You guys do whatever they say, understood?” She said taking the twin’s by the hands.

  “Is that everyone?” Jack asked.

  Terra nodded. Four pale faces pressed together, locking fingers and steps.

  “Coming up. Copy.”

  “Copy.” Blake returned.

  Terra led the women up the stairs into the low light of the smoky kitchen. Terra paused at Blake who gave her reassuring look. She gave him a slight smile and nodded. They clung together like a covey of quail, but this flock of birds was broken. Together they stepped out into the frigid night for the first time in many months. Jack moved them along quickly through the falling snow. Jack worried about the women; they were at risk for hyperthermia. When they reached the bags they’d stashed, Jack handed one over to Sherry and Terra.

  “There’s clothing in there.”

  Sherry’s teeth were chattering.

  “Come in Coop!” He turned away to allow them to dress concerned there was no response from Cooper.

  “I’m a nurse.” Sherry said from behind him.

  “We’re going to need you.” Jack said.

  Blake reloaded his pistol glancing at Terra.

  “Get them moving.” Jack commanded Blake.

  “I gotta go get Coop.” Blake said

  “I got Coop and the makings for a fire.” Jack said to Blake. “Get them going before they freeze to death.”

  “Desert One.” Dan said. “Winds picking up.”

  “Copy.” Jack said, heading back toward the house.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Jack grabbed the axe from the wood stack and broke the lock on the garage door. When the doors swung open, he grinned at the restored red 56 Chevrolet truck. It was what was going to get he and Coop down the road.

  The truck was a thing of class. Painted candy apple red, the bed lined in expensive Cherry wood panels polished to a high gloss finish. Jack scowled at the rusty gas cans stacked in the back carefully lifting them out. He checked the driver’s door, unlocked.

  He ran back into the house and emptied the fuel into the cells. Then he planted a small bundle of explosives into the furthest one. Timed right, he’d retrieve Matt, steal the Chevy, and blow the hell out of the house all in a matter of minutes of each other. He moved through the smoke over a dead man and out the door towards the dimly lit guesthouse.

  Matt was sitting against the far wall slumped over. Jack knelt beside him feeling for a pulse. The slight beat of Matt’s heart thumped under his finger. Relief.

  “Coop.”

  Matt’s breath was shallow, his color ashen. Jack ripped Matt’s shirt open pulling aside his caviler vest. “Where you hurt?”

  “The ball……game…I…smell…gas.” Matt stirred talking in riddles.

  Jack found several bullet holes, one that had somehow slid just under his vest blowing through his side. Matt was leaking out blood in several places, but this one was the worst of the three. Jack worked quickly using a sheet and sanitary napkins which he pressed into Matt’s side and then wrapped the sheet around him. Jack hurried. He holstered his pistol. He then carefully picked Matt up and laid him across his shoulder.

  “Hold on Coop.”

  Jack moved toward the house and then into the garage. He sat Matt into the front seat of the Chevy and began searching the interior of the truck for the key. He got lucky because it was under the seat.

  “I’ll be right back kid.” Jack said.

  Inside, he soaked the couches with gas, struck a match and tossed it onto the center cushion. A hungry hot flame instantly ignited spreading across the sofa and onto the side table. The fire, hungry, searched for more. Now the smoldering card table responsible for all the smoke disappeared and a full-fledged fire ensued. The red-hot blaze licked upward, spreading to the floor and then crawling toward the draperies. Done, he sprinted for the door, not looking back.

  “Stay with me Coop.” He said to Matt sliding into the driver’s seat. Already the fire was accelerating lighting up the black sky.

  Jack started the Chevy just as smoke began to seep into the garage. The only working fire alarm overhead chirped and then started screeching. Jack put the truck into reverse. The Chevy tires spun on the dirt drive. A loud explosion rocked the house, shaking the ground under them. Propane. Flame rose overhead showering a reddish hot light downward. Jack could feel the heat inside the cab. Just as giant plumes of flames and smoke reached towards them, Jack drove towards the road. The next explosion was more violent than the first. Material propelled into the air filled with debris that acted like projectiles. Out of the sky, a chunk of burning wood fell on the hood of the Chevy, but slid off as Jack pulled the truck left. Bright red and orange flames shot through the darkness, engulfing the mansion.

  “Jesus Jack! What the hell are you doing up there?” Blake’s voice crackled in his earpiece.


  “On my way down. Have the nurse standing by.” Jack said. He was driving the hell out of the Chevy twisting back and forth on narrow switchbacks and hairpin turns, drifting on the corners, and pushing hard through the straightaways. Then, as if they needed any more challenges, the snow turned into a whiteout.

  “Standing by.” Blake said.

  Jack drove the 56 as if he stole it, because he had. When he neared the bottom, he gave the truck more throttle heading towards the flats of the high desert. A thin sheet of snow formed on the ground just as he brought the Chevy to a sliding stop behind Blake’s truck. Blake and Sherry appeared in his headlights. In the distance, Jack saw the taillights of the Hummer heading toward the highway for the ranch.

  Before Jack could speak, Sherry opened the passenger door. Snowflakes gathered in her hair. She pulled off her gloves laying her fingers on Matt’s wrist. Shay stepped out of the shadows, her eyes catching Jack’s glare.

  “You should’ve gone with the others.” He said.

  “Jonah is safe. I can help.”

  “Unbuckle him.” Sherry said. Jack did as she asked slipping her his knife. She cut away the makeshift bandages letting the blood soaked pads drop to the ground.

  “We need to get him to a hospital, now.” She whispered.

  “There are no hospitals.” Jack muttered. She looked at him disbelieving. “My brother-in-law is a surgeon.”

  “He’s going to die.”

  “Get in.”

  “Move him over.” Blake said, pointing over to the 56. “We can’t all fit in that thing.”

  “I’ll be behind you.” Jack said, but the clouds overhead had begun unleashing a wall of snow. Dan had left just in time.

  They lifted Matt to the backseat of Blake’s truck. Sherry jumped in beside him applying pressure to the wound. “Hurry.”

  “That relic isn’t going to make it in this weather.” Blake said climbing in behind the wheel.

  Jack looked at the desolate buildings remembering the small girl in the far house. He’d be back to bury the innocent, gather the remaining gasoline, but not tonight. He turned to the red truck and to Shay who hadn’t gotten into Blake’s truck. She ignored the blood on the Chevy’s seat and climbed in. Jack looked straight ahead and didn’t say anything.