Gathering Home

by JEFF MOTES

  I step carefully to avoid the blood on the floor. At the end of the hall, we enter a bedroom. At the far side is a vaguely familiar young girl. Her eyes are swollen from tears and abuse. She’s wrapped in a blanket, and Pastor Ezell is standing nearby.

  The girl calls out in a raspy voice, “Lizzy…”

  I recognize her now. It’s Keisha Brown, one of Tamika’s cousins. I hand my shotgun to Will and walk over to her. She reaches out for me, and I hug her close. Her tears flow, and her sobs come from deep inside. I can only guess at what has happened to her. I start crying, too.

  Pastor Ezell and Will step out of the room. Keisha begins to talk, her voice faltering between deep sobs. “They came to our house one night. I don’t remember when. They wanted to take everything we had. When my brother tried to stop them, they killed him and my mother and took all the food we had, then brought me here.” Her hand moves from my arm to my face. “They did bad things to me,” she moans.

  Dear God, what do I do?

  “You’re okay now, Keisha. These men won’t let anything happen to you. They’re good men.”

  On the opposite wall is a dresser with some girl’s clothes laying on top. I nod my head in that direction. “Are those your clothes?”

  When she nods, I release her, close the bedroom door, and hand her the clothing. Her body is covered with bruises.

  Dear God, why did this have to happen?

  Once she’s dressed, we go down the hall holding hands. At the bathroom, she stops and looks in. “I have to use the bathroom.”

  I go in with her and make sure things are working. The toilet has water, and there’s a bucket of water near the tub. I rise to go out, but she stops me.

  “Please don’t leave, Lizzy.”

  Keisha and I were never close friends, but she was always nice to me. My heart aches for her. There are a few bottles of water on the counter and a roll of paper towels. I arrange the things for her, including a bar of soap.

  She washes her face, then places toothpaste on her finger and makes an effort at brushing her teeth. She drinks all of the remaining bottle of water.

  “Thank you, Lizzy. Thank you for being here. Will’s the one who found me.”

  “Keisha, have you seen Amy Wright?”

  “No. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. I haven’t seen anybody other than these evil people.”

  Out in the hall, Will, Mr. Harris, and Pastor Ezell are walking into the room where the women are. Pastor Ezell pauses at the door.

  “Lizzy, take Keisha to the kitchen and get her something to eat then step out to the front porch. Maze and Deek are out there keeping an eye on things. We’ll join you shortly.” He closes the door.

  The kitchen is a mess, but there is all kinds of food all over the place. Canned vegetables, canned meat, boxes of macaroni and cheese, soft drinks, and other things. Keisha gets a can of raviolis, a plastic spoon, and a bottle of soda. We go out to the front porch and sit. Deek is leaning against a post eating out of a can. It reminds me of how hungry I am.

  I go inside to get something for myself. That’s when the noise from the back room drifts to my ears.

  Chapter 34

  Will

  Interrogation

  Day 10

  After Pastor Ezell closes the door, he sits both women up, leaning them against the wall. The dead man is not far from them. He removes the tape from their mouths, and the younger woman immediately starts screaming.

  “You killed my man, you filthy black bastards!”

  Pastor Ezell shoves the wad of duct tape into her mouth, cutting off her vile screams. The older woman hasn’t said anything, although she is staring at us with a mixture of hate and fear.

  “Mrs. Hilton,” Pastor Ezell says, “where is Amy Wright?”

  She remains silent.

  “It’ll go much better for you if you answer our questions.”

  She still doesn’t say anything. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her hard. “Answer the question!”

  Still, she remains silent. He draws his hand back to slap her but hesitates and lowers it. He appears perplexed, not sure what to do.

  Mr. Harris draws a Walther PK22 from a shoulder holster, then removes a cylindrical tube from another pouch. It’s a suppressor. He starts screwing it on the end of the barrel. Pastor Ezell puts a hand on Mr. Harris’ arm as if to restrain him.

  “No, James,” Pastor Ezell says.

  Mr. Harris looks at him hard, then firmly removes Pastor Ezell’s hand. “Pastor,” Mr. Harris says firmly, “you go outside.”

  The men stare intently at each other for a moment, then Pastor Ezell leaves the room.

  The change in the atmosphere in the room is not lost upon Mrs. Hilton.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she blurts out.

  “Now, Mrs. Hilton, you know me,” Mr. Harris says in a mock-friendly voice. “I’m not going to do anything to you. It sure would be nice if you’d tell me where Cole and Amy Wright are.”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “Come on now, Mrs. Hilton. I’m in kind of a hurry.”

  She stares at the pistol in Mr. Harris’ hand but remains silent.

  Mr. Harris raises the pistol and carelessly waves it around. “Mrs. Hilton, don’t worry about this pistol. It isn’t going to do anything to you.”

  He quickly puts the suppressor against the younger woman’s calf and pulls the trigger. It sounds like a pellet gun.

  Although it startles me, after seeing what they did to Keisha, I have no sympathy for any of them. And if we don’t find out where Amy is, the same thing will happen to her.

  The younger woman falls to the side, the duct tape in her mouth muffling her screams.

  The effect on Mrs. Hilton is instant. “Roy and the boys left for a raid early this morning, and I haven’t seen them since,” she says, her voice quivering with fear.

  “Oh, I know they went on a raid, and I know they left from there hours ago. Where are they now?”

  “I don’t know!”

  In a flash, Mr. Harris puts the suppressor on the young woman’s calf and pulls the trigger again.

  Her face is contorted in pain, and her moans are loud. She falls to the side. Mr. Harris pulls her upright.

  “Please stop!” Mrs. Hilton pleads. “She’s my daughter!”

  “Oh, I know it, Mrs. Hilton. That’s why I’m trying to save her other leg,” Mr. Harris says, his voice steely. “Now tell me where they are!”

  “Sometimes they take g-gir…”

  “Go on, Mrs. Hilton. Don’t stop, because I’m certainly not going to unless you tell me what I want to know.”

  “Sometimes they take girls they capture to Roy’s camp on the river.”

  “Tell me how to get there.”

  Mrs. Hilton gulps. “I can’t.”

  Mr. Harris puts the suppressor on the young woman’s other calf. She is pleading and trying to pull her leg away.

  “Wait!” Mrs. Hilton cries. “I can draw you a map.”

  “Now that’s more like it. Why didn’t you say that to start with? Would have saved your daughter a whole lot of misery.”

  Mr. Harris cuts the tape holding her hands, and I give her the notepad and pen from my pocket. She begins to draw. Her hands are shaky, and the drawing is bad. She gives it to Mr. Harris.

  “It’s the second camp once you get down there. Roy said nobody was staying in the first camp.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hilton. I think I can follow this. If you’ve lied to me, your daughter is not going to be happy.”

  He tapes her hands and her mouth. Picking a dirty sock up from the floor, he lays it across the bullet wounds on Mrs. Hilton’s daughter’s leg and tapes it down with duct tape.

  He removes the suppressor and re-holsters his PK-22. “Let’s go, Will.”

  Chapter 35

  Will

  To the Death

  Day 10

  When I step onto the porch, Lizzy looks up, a strange, pained expression
on her face. Pastor Ezell and the other guys are loading bags on the trailer. Without saying a word, she comes over and hugs me.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzy. So sorry for what is happening. I should have taken you home.”

  Her eyes are moist. “No, Will. I’m beginning to understand now. For such a time as this, you and I were placed here. I have no regrets, though it hurts so much.”

  I’m amazed at this girl’s strength. Her embrace strengthens me and calms the rage inside.

  “Pastor,” Mr. Harris says, “I know where they are.” He gives the sketch to Pastor Ezell.

  There is some debate on what our next course of action should be. The camp is on the Alabama River quite a few miles from where we are. Pastor Ezell wants us all to go back to Walker Springs and take Keisha to Tamika’s house, then proceed as a group to the camp. But I sense urgency.

  Mr. Harris glances at me, then Lizzy.

  “Pastor, you and the rest use the trailer to take Keisha to safety. I’m going to scout the camp. Use the map to follow, and call on the radio when you get close.”

  “I don’t like it, James,” Pastor Ezell says. “I don’t think you should go alone.”

  “I won’t be going alone,” Mr. Harris says. “Will’s going with me.”

  “Yes, sir. I am.”

  Lizzy hands me a can of Beanie Weanies, a spoon, and a bottle of water. She hugs me one more time. “Be careful, Will.”

  “I will.”

  She climbs up on the trailer next to Keisha, and they drive off.

  “Eat up, Will,” Mr. Harris says, “and let’s go.”

  I pop the lid on the can and dig in.

  “Let’s go find Amy,” he says when I empty the can.

  I climb on the 4-wheeler behind him, and we drive off.

  “I didn’t recognize anything on the map. Do you know how to get there?”

  “Yeah, it’s the first camp, not the second. The old woman lied. I used to cut firewood and take it to their camp. I only wanted to make sure they didn’t have another place I didn’t know about.”

  “Mr. Harris, I appreciate what you and the other guys are doing to help us. I couldn’t do this on my own.”

  “It’s James, not Mr. Harris. You did good back there, Will. Your father has taught you well. That business back there, I ain’t proud of it. But it had to be done if we’re going to save your friend from the same fate as Keisha.”

  I consider that for a moment, wondering if we’re already too late. I pray we aren’t.

  “That girl back there,” James says, “Lizzy. She has grit. Better hang on to her.”

  “Yes sir. I plan to.”

  “Will, y’all need to go home. You shouldn’t stay with the Wrights anymore.”

  “We were going to leave this morning until all this happened. I guess it was a good thing we hadn’t left yet. But I’ve got to find some gas or get the guys in Repose to bring me some. The Hiltons stole mine sometime last night. Maybe we’ll find it at the camp.”

  About five miles later, we turn onto a woods road. The brush is thick along the sides of the road. It would certainly be difficult to walk through this stuff. Further into the woods, we come across a clear-cut area. It looks like a warzone. Treetops and other tree debris are scattered everywhere. There’s a knuckle boom loader and a skidder parked in the distance. I wonder what logging company they belong to and if they even have a means of getting out here to get them.

  After the clear cut, we enter an area of large hardwood trees. The overhead canopy is thick, and the underbrush is thin. Prime hunting land. As the road passes close to the river, I see a motorboat with two men pull in toward the bank on the opposite side of the river. It catches me by surprise. One of the guys dips a paddle into the water and pulls up a rope, and a fish box emerges. The second guy moves toward the front of the boat, and the two of them pull the box into the boat. They open the side door, and a large number of fish pour out of the box onto the deck. Somebody is going to eat well tonight. Then the road veers away from the river, and the boat is out of sight.

  We’re about five miles down the road when James pulls the 4-wheeler into the trees and parks behind the top of a large fallen tree.

  “I hope we can find this when we return,” he says.

  I pull my iPhone and open one of the GPS apps. I was surprised the other day to find the GPS satellites were actually working. I mark a waypoint. The battery is at thirty percent, so I power the whole unit down to conserve power.

  “We’ll go the rest of the way on foot,” James says. “Follow me and stay quiet.”

  We quietly stalk through the woods. It rained here recently. The damp leaves muffle the sound of our feet as we walk along. About an hour later, I see a structure through the trees. We approach quietly and kneel at the tree line.

  The camp is actually a house trailer raised on poles. The bottom must be six feet above the ground. There is a full front porch and a metal roof built over the top of the trailer and the porch. A fire is going in the yard. Parked near the steps of the porch is a 4-wheeler. I’m not sure if it’s one of the ones from this morning or not.

  James says quietly, “I’m going to scout around. Stay here and watch the front door.”

  The camp is set at the end of a half-mile road off the main woods road. I carefully scan the area, making a mental note of every detail I can. There are no dogs around, but I see two large containers close to a chain connected to a steel spike in the ground. If there’s a dog around here, it could be a big problem. Toward the back is a deer feeder up on stilts. Underneath the porch are two red five-gallon fuel cans. This could be my fuel, but I had more than ten gallons in my truck.

  I check my watch. It’s 5:30 p.m. James has been gone for nearly a half-hour. How long will it be before Pastor Ezell and the other guys arrive? It would be better if we have more people before we approach the building.

  The sounds of an argument drifts from the open front door. A man comes out, if that’s what he can be called. He appears to be in his twenties, his hair long and shaggy. He goes back to the door and starts yelling, pointing his finger in and out of the door to add emphasis.

  “I don’t care if your cousin said to wait. I ain’t waiting any longer. If you don’t go in there and get started, I will!”

  I position my carbine against a tree and put the red dot on the guy’s head. I hesitate. I don’t recognize the face, and I don’t know if he’s one of the guys from this morning or not.

  He whistles, and a large black pit bull comes running out. This could be a big problem. I remain completely still so as to not draw his attention. The guy walks out to the fire and sits in a lawn chair, pops the tab on a can of beer, and takes a long swig. Then he holds the can down for the dog to lick.

  I’m not exactly sure what to do. I need to know if Amy is in the trailer, but I can’t approach as long as that guy is out there. I can’t just shoot him, not knowing if he’s one of the right guys or not. The dog is going to be a problem, too. He is going to hear Pastor Ezell and the other guys when they arrive.

  Dear God, show me what to do. Grant me strength and courage. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

  My dilemma is short lived. I hear the sounds of a struggle from inside the trailer, along with a girl’s voice.

  “Stop! Please stop! Don’t do that! Please, please stop!”

  Amy!

  No more time to consider options. I must act now. I whisper another short prayer then put the red dot on the man’s head, push the safety off, and start squeezing the trigger. Before I can fire, I hear a faint click, and the man’s head falls to the side. The dog rises and starts sniffing the man. I adjust my aim, but he’s moving, and I can’t get a good shot.

  Click.

  The dog yelps and sits down, licking his front leg.

  Click.

  The dog rolls to his side, his limbs stiffening.

  Click.

  Now the dog is completely still.

  I rush for the door. Amy’s screams are becoming mor
e frantic. James reaches the door right behind me. We pause long enough to give each other a nod, then I’m through the door scanning from side to side. No one is in the open room, and I don’t see anyone in the kitchen.

  Amy’s screams are coming from down the hall. James takes a position to cover the hall and the kitchen area, and I enter the hall, passing two closed doors, depending upon James to cover my back and watch the doors.

  I silently enter the room. What I see fills me with rage. Amy’s hands and feet are tied to the bed, and Cole is on top of her. I raise the carbine to kill the evil bastard but hesitate for fear the bullet might go through and hit Amy. I set the rifle against the wall and violently throw myself on Cole’s back, encircling my left arm around his neck. The impact rolls us off Amy, and my back hits the floor hard with Cole on top of me. His hands go for my arm, trying to pull it away from his neck.

  He tries to roll over and break my grip. I place both of my legs around his naked body and lock my ankles together. I squeeze while pushing my legs down and stretch his body out. I bring my right arm up, capturing my left wrist in the crook of my elbow, and start tightening my hold on his neck. He struggles frantically as my grip tightens. Visions of Keisha and Amy flash before my eyes. I pour my rage out upon him and squeeze with all my might. He goes limp, yet I don’t release him. Unlocking my ankles, I roll us over. He is face down on the floor, and I’m on his back. I give his neck a hard twist and jerk.

  Pop!

  My rage burns low, and I get to my knees. Amy is still screaming. James walks in and throws a sheet over her naked body. I stand, my strength nearly spent. James looks down at Cole and raises his Walther.

  Click.

  He shrugs. “Just to make sure. I’ll be up front keeping watch. You take care of Amy.” He walks out of the room.

  I sit on the bed beside Amy and start untying her hands. The knots are tight and difficult to get undone. When I release her hands, she immediately sits up and hugs me tight, the sheet falling to her waist.