The house’s front door opened.
Three individuals stepped out. The arrogant dark-haired woman with a fresh patch bandage on her right cheek, a gaunt man with heavy eyelids who had a thick fox-fur coat, neck tattoos, and a buzz cut with a little chip shaven away just above his right eyebrow, and the well-groomed man in a sheep-skin bomber jacket who had slicked-back blond hair and a trimmed beard.
“That’s him,” Dean whispered, pointing to the one with the slicked-back hair. “He’s the leader.”
“How do you know?” Calvin replied.
“The way he carries himself,” Dean explained. “The rest of them are on edge. He has cool confidence that’s not being contested.”
“He could just be an airhead,” Calvin replied.
The three people walked about a yard away from the open door and waited. A moment later, two women shambled out. Their heads were low and their hair was knotted. They walked in a semi-lucid state. Blond--the nickname for the man with the slicked-back hair--took one of the girl’s hand as if leading her out of a carriage. He let her step by him and put an arm around her. The arrogant woman--who Naomi nicknamed Sabrina because it seemed to fit--grabbed the other girl forcefully and pushed her along. The tattooed man—nicknamed Ink--went up and closed the door.
They led the passive women to the workshop. Blond knocked on one of the two portals into the structure. A moment later, the gate rolled up. Inside, a number of men organized tables of supplies including cans, water, and weapons. They smiled lustfully at the two women. Sebrina pushed the woman she’d been guiding into one of the man’s arms. He got hands around her and took her to the back. One arm around the other girl’s lower back, Blond gestured to the room with a sweeping hand motion. The male workers smiled at him and took ahold of the girl. The rest of them walked to the back of the room. Someone closed the gate.
Naomi watched in silence. She felt dirty just watching.
Calvin fumed. “These people deserve to die.”
Naomi turned to her husband, shocked he’d say such a thing. Nevertheless, the same thought had crossed her mind.
Allen stared silently, hiding every emotion.
A frown sank Dean’s face. His eagerness slowly turned to rage. “We go now.”
Allen didn’t blink. “No. There are too many of them.” He pointed to the house. “It appears the captives are in there. There’s no telling how many hostiles are inside. Besides, we’d need to get through the fence.”
Face turning cherry red, Dean set his jaw. “Then we’ll get my brother and the bolt cutters first.”
He backed away from the cliff.
Looking pale and furious, Calvin backed away next.
Naomi and Allen watched the scrapyard. She fought back tears, knowing her daughter and Becca could be led into the workshop anytime. Naomi wanted nothing more than to slide down the cliffside and start shooting. The fatigue aching her bones reminded her that she wasn’t an action hero. She might be able to kill one person, two at best before bullets peppered her body. Praying her daughter would stay safe just a little longer, Naomi started to back away from the edge. She noticed Allen wasn’t moving and gave him a concerned look. “Coming?”
Allen scanned the guard rotations a moment longer as if committing them to memory and then started away from the cliff.
The four-hour hike back slipped by in moments. Everyone’s mind was determined to kill their enemy and save the girls.
Back at the house, they found Conner at the dining room table. Broken sunlight streamed through the barred and shattered window, casting jail bars over his melancholy expression and the amber bottle of scotch.
“Conner?” Dean said, standing in the threshold of the room.
The Irishman took a swig. “Brother. You’re alive.”
Dean approached and scrunched his nose at the stench. He took the bottle from Conner’s hand. “What are you doing?”
Conner shrugged. He didn’t try to take back the bottle.
Dean cursed. “Our niece is out there with those animals and you’re drinking yourself into a stupor?”
Conner glanced up at him with glossy, bloodshot eyes. “Pitiful, isn’t it?”
Dean cuffed him on the side of the head. “Straighten up.”
Frowning, Conner rubbed his cheek and gnashed his teeth.
“Good,” Dean said spitefully. “Get mad, coward. I need you mad. Becca needs you mad.”
Conner’s anger slipped into depression. “It’s useless, Dean. The prowlers won. Sickness took Dad. Cathleen’s gone. Becca will be used and dumped. That’s the fate of a girl too pretty for this world... I’m done leading this family, not that there’s any of us left.”
Dean didn’t hear most of what Conner said. He was too hung up on his sister-in-law. “What do you mean Cathleen is gone? Where is she?”
“Upstairs,” Conner said dryly. “In the study.”
Dean twisted back to Naomi, his face glowing red. “Isn’t that where you were hiding last night?”
Struggling to find the words, Naomi tried to explain, “Dean, I--”
One second from exploding, Dean slammed his shoulder against her as he moved past. Naomi’s back clashed against the wall. She drew in a quick breath.
Dean hurried up the stairs.
Calvin gave Naomi a hand. She refused, straightening herself up. “I’m fine.”
Suddenly, a furious, heart-wrenching roar sounded upstairs. Glass shattered. Something else was thrown. Another thing was knocked over.
The destruction was followed by a heavy silence.
Allen slowly unslung his rifle and rested it in his palms as he keenly watched the steps. Seeing this, Calvin drew out his pistol and kept it by his side.
Dean descended the stairs one step at a time. His expression was black with anger. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, still not having looked at them. “What?” he asked. “Think I’m going to shoot you?” He took out his revolver, keeping the barrel to the ground. “This what you’re scared of? That I’ve finally snapped?”
Allen and Calvin kept their weapon low but got ready to raise them quickly.
Dean rolled the weapon in his hand.
Heart racing, Naomi took a step forward and tried to coax him. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I would’ve told you earlier, but… I couldn’t find the right time.”
He glanced up at her. His icy eyes chilled Naomi to the bone. She shuffled back, keeping her mouth shut and head low, knowing that the unstable man could very well kill her right now.
Dean turned his glare to Calvin and Allen. He raised his weapon slightly as if getting ready to aim, but instead quickly shoved his weapon back into his holster. His eyes were daggers to everyone in the room. “Put away your weapons. It’s insulting.”
Neither of the men moved.
Veins rising on his neck, Dean scoffed angrily. “Screw you all.”
He shouldered past them and put his hand on his brother. “We’re going, Conner.”
“Where?” Conner asked.
“To kill every one of those bastards,” Dean declared through his teeth.
“What’s the point? We can’t win.”
Dean cuffed Conner in the ear so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair. He caught himself on the rim of the table.
Dean yelled in his ear. “They have Becca!”
Conner rubbed his red ear. He stared past Dean and to the sunlight outside. “We need sleep, brother,” he said weakly. “We can go at night.”
Dean set his jaw. He looked like he was about to feed Conner his teeth, but instead took a step back, twisted around, and headed upstairs. Several moments later, he was back down the stairs, cradling Cathleen’s body. The woman’s lush brown hair flooded down his forearms. Her eyes were peacefully shut. A burgundy bullet hole stained the center of her coat. Dean carried her out the back door.
Allen slung his weapon over his shoulder. He spoke to Calvin. “Help me clear the rest of the bodies.”
Calvin nodded soberly and
followed after him.
They vanished up the steps.
Naomi sat across from Conner. His callused palms showed on the tabletop. Naomi took one in her own. Neither of them said anything. There were some wounds that only silence could mend. As her husband and Allen carried body after body to the backyard, Naomi stayed with Conner. She shut her eyes and let go of her thoughts. It wasn’t easy and she couldn’t say how she was able to pull it off, but when she opened her eyes, it was sundown and the house was black apart from the orange glow coming from the living room fireplace.
Conner no longer sat across from her. Naomi sat up and stretched. Her upper spine popped. She slouched back in her seat and rubbed her eyes before realizing the filth on her hands. Her clothes were stained. Her skin was grimy. She felt like she had bathed in a dumpster.
Using the tabletop for leverage, she got up. The corners of her vision went dark. Her legs nearly went out from underneath her. She shut her eyes until the vertigo left. When she felt comfortable enough to move, she dragged her feet to the living room.
Calvin sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace. His shirt was off, revealing his pale, gaunt frame. He was goose skinned. Eyes fixated on the flame, he dipped a rag into the bucket next to him, wrung it out, and wiped down his body. By the wet sheen already on his flesh, he’d been washing for a few minutes.
Naomi plopped down next to him, letting the fireplace’s heat warm her.
Watching the dancing flame, Calvin dunked the rag again, wrung it out, and brushed it against Naomi’s face. She leaned her cheek into the rag and let it wash away the old sweat. Calvin repeated the ritual on her forehead next.
“Where is everybody?” Naomi asked softly as she turned her other cheek to him.
Calvin dabbled her temple with the wet rag, spending a little extra time to remove a little smudge of blood. There was something very delicate about the way he washed that she’d only seen when he worked on his project car.
“Sleeping,” he finally replied, quiet as the wind. “We’ll be deciding what to do tonight.”
Calvin gently leaned down Naomi’s head so he could wash the blood spatter away from the back of her neck. It was Cathleen’s.
“What do you want to do?” Naomi asked.
Calvin paused his scrubbing.
Naomi noticed his body shaking. He started washing again. “I want to save our daughter.”
Naomi rested her head on his shoulder. He smelled of sweat, grass, and ashes. He put an arm around her as they both stared into the fire. There was something soothing about the flame’s chaotic nature. Calvin said, “I just don’t want to die doing it.”
Naomi pursed her lips.
“I know that sounds weak, but,” Calvin back-pedaled. “I just…” His voice cracked. “I don’t know, Naomi. I’ve never felt this terrified. It’s like something's got a hold of my heart and I can’t breathe.”
The floorboards creaked behind them.
Both of them looked back at Allen. He wore a heavy frown. Calvin’s shadow fell over his face. “It’s time,” he said with grim resolve.
Without further explanation, he moved into the dining room, stood on a chair, and lit the chandelier candles, like he did every evening before dinner.
Calvin splashed his face with water from the bucket and stood up.
As he dressed, Naomi dipped her arms in the bucket of water, watching it turn from dim crystal to dark brown. She shook off the water from her hands and pulled her sleeves back down.
A minute later, Dean marched into the dining room without looking at any of them. His mind was mission-oriented. His motive was vengeance. He put the bolt cutters on the tabletop and crossed his arms.
Conner followed a moment later in a semi-confused state. He sank into a seat. The broken glass cabinet loomed behind him from when Trinity had slammed Cathleen against it. Naomi found it hard to believe that twenty-four hours ago the Ryans and Baxters were aiming weapons at each other. Actually, it was the Ryans about to kill the Baxters for the basement supplies. They teamed up to defend the house, but was that enough to wash away their sins? Naomi didn’t know. Friend or foe, she just needed their help getting her daughter back. She looked over at Allen. He was quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet. He watched the Ryans like a hawk.
“Let me be very clear.” Allen broke the silence. “Everyone in this room disgusts me.”
The words were a knife to Naomi’s chest.
Allen continued. “I don’t trust any of you.” He swept the whole table with his eyes. “You have destroyed my house, threatened my life, and ruined ten years of preparation. You are petty, greedy, and abusive.”
Dean glared at him. “Like you have room to talk. You fed us scraps while you were living on a treasure trove of supplies. You made us work for you while you counted your mountain of canned food.”
Allen jammed his finger on the tabletop. “You brought disease into my house.”
Dean fumed. “You’re going to insult my dad now? The man you could’ve saved. I peeked into that basement of yours. You have enough medication to save a small village.”
“They’re my supplies,” Allen said firmly. “I bought them. I organized them. I decide who gets them.”
Dean’s expression grew darker.
“You could’ve left anytime you wanted,” Allen said. “Frankly, I wished you had.”
“You weren’t this pissy when we were fighting to defend your home,” Dean said, one second away from exploding.
“Battle’s over,” Allen said. “Time to settle business.”
“I’d say the battle’s just begun,” Dean kept his hand on his revolver under the table.
“Boys,” Naomi interrupted. “Yesterday is dead and gone. It’s our daughter and your niece that need us now. Let’s stop wasting time and focus on saving them.”
Allen gave her a dark look. “You don’t get a say in any of this. Not after everything you’ve done.”
“What?” Naomi blurted out, unsure if he actually just said that.
Allen didn’t correct his words. He just glared.
Naomi shut her mouth after realizing her jaw had dropped. She leaned back in her chair, feeling a mix of rage and betrayal racing through her.
“I’m here for one thing,” Allen said firmly. “To save Trinity. After that, I’m done with all of you. If we somehow survive this crisis, I don’t ever want to see you again, Naomi.” He looked to the Ryans next. “And if I see either one of you again, I’ll put two bullets in your head before you know what hit you.”
Dean scoffed at him. “Where were these balls when we were killing Scrapers together? No, of course you wouldn’t be honest about how much you hate us when you were surrounded and in need of assistance. Honesty just isn’t in your nature, Allen.”
Anger started to break Allen’s mask.
Calvin chimed in. “Guys, please, we can kill each other after we get the girls back?”
Conner nodded. “I agree.”
Dean got to his feet. “I say we go now.”
Allen spoke sarcastically. “Go ahead and charge into their stronghold without surveillance.”
“What were we doing at the cliffside?!” Dean asked with anger. “We know their numbers. We know their home. And every second we waste talking, Trinity and Becca might be assaulted by some drug fiend.”
The comment made Naomi beyond nauseous. She glanced around the table, seeing she wasn’t the only one completely appalled.
“I’m going tonight,” Dean said, convincing himself. “The rest of you should come, too, and we’ll do a little assaulting of our own.”
The table fell silent.
Dean looked to Conner, expecting a reply.
Conner kept his head low and his eyes staring at nothing in particular. “I’ll go with you, brother, but only for Becca’s sake. I’ve had enough killing.” He looked to Allen. “Don’t worry. I won’t come back after I get her. If we’re being honest now, I’d like nothing more than to see this place burn and all the m
emories with it.”
Dean looked at Calvin and Naomi. “How about you two? Done being cowards?”
Calvin didn’t meet his eyes.
Naomi found her breath. “Every part of me wants to go there tonight, but we’re outnumbered and going on the offensive.” She passed a dreadful gaze to everyone at the table. “Allen’s right. We won’t win. Not tonight, at least.”
Calvin agreed. “If we start planning though, we can launch a successful rescue mission. Get the girls and get out, before anyone's the wiser.”
Allen nodded to himself and jumped off Calvin’s point. “All I need is three days to learn their guard rotation and their blind spots. Then we can move in.”
Naomi spoke to the Ryans. “We could use you two to help with that.” She hoped to save the bridge before it was too far burned.
“We don’t need them,” Allen said plainly. “I can take care of this.”
Dean shook his head in disbelief.
Conner said nothing.
Naomi pressed Allen. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Dean, Conner, show us patience and a willingness to work with us, and we can settle this together. The smart way.”
Dean looked at her. The cogs turned behind his angry red face. “No. ”
Naomi felt her morale break.
Dean continued. “I’m going to pack up and go there tonight. I’ll get Becca and kill that pretty boy. You can plan all you want. It won’t save your daughter. Conner, you’re with me.”
Conner slowly got to his feet. “What else do I have to lose?”
It didn’t take long for the Ryan brothers to pack their duffel bags full of rations and ammo.
Lighting up makeshift torches, they exited the broken front door.
Naomi, Calvin, and Allen watched from the balcony as the men’s torches bobbed through the wintery woods.
“Good riddance,” Allen mumbled under his breath and went back inside.
Calvin’s expression was sickly pale. “You still believe in God?”
Aftermath (Book 2): Aftermath Page 3