He skirted the camper and ducked behind a pickup truck. Reflected firelight flickered off the windows of the cab. Hoping the cab would shield him from view, he rose up and peered through the cab, seeing that the man was still where he expected him to be. If Jim went around the bed of the truck and took five steps, he would be upon him. The guy would have no choice but to drop his weapon and surrender.
He breathed and calmed himself. He crouched and took a few steps toward the end of the pickup truck. He paused at the taillight, sighted through his weapon. When he turned this corner, there would be no stopping. He oozed around the corner and took a short step, then another, the reticle of his optic centered on the back of the guy in the camp chair. He took another step and struck his shin on the trailer hitch extending from the receiver. There was loud clunk.
His heart sank. If he had a nickel for every time he’d tripped over a truck hitch… He lost the element of surprise.
“FREEZE!” he yelled.
The man in the camp chair was already spinning on him, pulling his rifle up. He dropped from the chair to the ground, ignoring Jim’s command. He was going to shoot. Jim threw himself to the side.
The man fired a single shot. It was high and punched a hole in a camper. He was looking for Jim, his eyes having trouble adjusting to the darkness after staring at the fire. Jim had no trouble acquiring his target. His glowing crosshairs swung across the man. The guy’s knees were pulled up causing Jim to have to shoot high.
He pushed on the forward hand grip which activated the bump fire mechanism. A five shot burst stitched the guy across the chest and neck. He jerked and his rifle flew to the side. Jim crawled backward to the concealment of the truck bed. He rose to his feet, scanning his surroundings. His ears rang from the shots though he saw no movement.
He keyed his radio. “You see anything, Gary?”
“No,” he replied. “You good?”
“No leaks,” Jim said.
“You want me to come down there?”
“Yeah,” Jim said. “Let’s get a quick look around.”
When Gary reached him, Jim was snooping around the place and trying to get a count on who was living there. It was difficult, taking into account that some of them had been killed already. One thing became clear. By whatever means these men had obtained them, they had access to some significant resources. Not only were they able to get food and gear, they had access to fuel for transporting that gear. That in itself was even more surprising than the trailer loads of food.
Gary was huffing and puffing when he reached the camp. He’d been jogging along the road. He found a bottle of water in a cooler and helped himself. They stayed clear of the fire, not wanting to suffer the same fate as the guy they’d been forced to kill.
Jim’s radio chirped. “Everyone okay?” It was Mack Bird.
“We’re fine,” Jim said. “One bad guy down.”
“He the one we’re looking for?”
“I don’t think so,” Jim said. “I think he was a sentry.”
“So we’ve still got one out there.”
“And no fucking clue where he is,” Will piped in from his own radio.
“Jim?” It was a woman’s voice.
“Ellen?” Jim asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “I think there’s someone outside the house.”
“Get everyone into the basement,” Jim said. “Secure the house. No one goes outside.”
“Almost everyone is in the basement. Some of us are upstairs with weapons. We’ve killed the lights,” she said. “We heard someone cry out in the dark. We think it was Lloyd.”
“Shit! We’ll be there as fast as we can,” Jim said.
“One more thing,” Ellen said. “Randi went after him.”
Jim sighed a curse. He felt like throwing his radio. That girl could get herself in more trouble. He admired her guts while he hoped she didn’t get herself killed.
“Are there keys in that truck?” Jim asked.
Gary opened the door and checked. “Yeah.”
“Get in,” he said.
Gary slid into the driver’s seat, Jim into the passenger side. Jim keyed the mike on his radio. “Mack, Buddy, Will—you guys get down to the road. We’re coming to get you in a truck. Don’t shoot.”
Gary cranked the truck and the diesel engine roared to life. He punched the accelerator, spraying sod out behind them. He shot between the gateposts and skewed onto the roadway, speeding into the night.
Chapter 60
The Valley
When the lights went off in the house, Randi slipped off into the darkness. While she didn’t know the area well, she knew the path from the house to Jim’s cave, to the various farm structures, and to the creek. The cry that she and Ellen heard sounded like it came from somewhere between the house and the cave.
She wandered in that direction, staying to the path. Around her, the moonlight reflected off the dewy grass, crickets chirped, and peepers chanted. Her shoes grew damp, which was something she hated. The farther she got from the house, the more her nerves went on edge. Whomever the men were looking for could be behind any tree. He could have a gun on her right now.
She questioned why she was even out here. Who did she think she was? It certainly wasn’t because of any particular attraction to Lloyd. Still, he was a member of the group and it’s what you did when one of you was in danger. He was part of the tribe. She realized, though, that she’d never convince Lloyd that she didn’t do it out of love for him. He’d never shut up about it.
If he were even still alive.
She soon discovered that he was, learning it in a manner that gave her chills. She could heard stifled sobbing. Whimpering. She wondered what had been done to him. She crept on. Step. Step. Step.
“Everyone imagines they’re the hardass that won’t crack.”
The words came from a man she hadn’t seen at first. He was perhaps twenty feet in front of her. His clothing was dark and she could barely make him out. Her eyes began to decipher the shapes around her. Several feet beyond the man was a sagging form bound to a tree.
“Everyone thinks they can hold out and not tell their secrets,” Valentine continued. “Once the cutting starts everyone gives in.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Lloyd choked out. “I’m here staying with my friends. We’re trying to get by, same as everyone else.”
“I don’t give a damn who you are,” Valentine said. “I’m interested in how many of you there are. I’m interested in resources. I want to know about food, guns, and tools. I’m counting to ten and then I’m cutting you again. You better start talking.”
“Noooo!”
Randi braced the barrel of the shotgun against a tree. She was concerned about the way he was standing. His back was to her. Depending on how the shot spread, some might miss him and hit Lloyd. That would be one more thing she’d never hear the end of. She needed to get a better angle but the ground here was littered with twigs from the maples overhead. If she walked off trail, one would snap beneath her feet and she’d be caught.
“DON’T FUCKING MOVE!” she ordered, feeling like she was out of options.
Valentine dodged instantly to the side, spinning away from Lloyd. She couldn’t follow his movement in the dark and she was afraid to shoot blindly for fear she’d hit her friend. She saw a burst of flame, heard an explosion, and shotgun pellets shredded the bark off nearby trees. Her instinct for self-preservation kicked in and she pulled back behind the tree, trying to make herself as narrow as possible. There was a burst of more gunfire, more rounds fired than she could keep up with, and more pellets buried themselves into the tree where she stood. She flinched and cried when chunks of bark sprayed against her face.
She heard the rattle of what she thought must be the man reloading the shotgun. Unsure of when another opportunity might occur, she leaned around the tree to see if she could locate him and put an end to this. She gasped when Valentine was suddenly in front of her grabbing at the barrel of the gun
. He locked his fingers around it and she pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
It was too late. He’d diverted the barrel away from himself. She started to pull the trigger again. She hesitated, trying to figure out where Lloyd was in relation to her barrel.
Then he had both hands on the barrel and shoved the shotgun back at her. The butt caught her in the stomach and knocked the breath from her. Randi lost her grip on the stock. She couldn’t get her finger out of the trigger guard fast enough. Her finger was caught and snapped like a breadstick. She fell over backward, the pain taking her breath.
There was enough light to see Valentine standing over her with the gun in his hand. She could see the glint from his teeth as he smiled and raised the gun over his head like a club. He was going to crush her skull.
In a reflex born of growing up with brothers, she raised her foot and lashed out at his groin, shoving as hard as she could. He grunted and staggered back, falling against a tree. She reached for her waistband, for the automatic she’d tucked in there. It was gone. She felt around in the leaves but her hand didn’t fall upon it. She rolled onto her hands and knees, crawling, trying to find the shotgun Valentine had dropped when she kicked him.
Her hand brushed the barrel and she pulled it to her. Realizing what she was up to, Valentine lunged at her, stomping down hard onto her back. There was a dull snap inside her. Randi screamed and fell flat on her face. He reached down and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her to her feet. The kick to her back had left her too stunned to scream. She couldn’t breathe well. She thought he’d broken a rib. Then his forearm locked around her neck and raised her off the ground.
She grabbed for his arm and kicked wildly but couldn’t draw a breath, couldn’t utter a sound. She tried to aim her kicks backward at his groin, couldn’t land anything solid. She could see in the direction of the house, could see the movement of lights through the trees. She tried to elbow him. She couldn’t muster the strength. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe.
Randi was dying.
Then there was a massive bellow in her ears, the scream of a bull. Valentine dropped Randi and she fell to the ground. She rolled onto her back. She needed to crawl away. She couldn’t think clearly enough to do so. She saw flashing lights, another shadow behind the large man. A glint of steel. Valentine tried to move but the shadow clung to him, holding onto his back, plunging the knife into him dozens—perhaps hundreds—of times.
Valentine fell onto his face and the shadow was on him. Randi could hear the grunts of exertion. There was a guttural scream, not of fear—of anger. Rage. Hate. It was the banshee wail of a demon clawing its way from the core of a person. The knife raised and raised again, punching into Valentine. He no longer moved but the knife didn’t stop. The sound of it filled Randi’s ears. The puddle it was creating in his flesh. The splash of the clutching fist plunging into that puddle again and again.
“HERE!” came a voice from the dark.
“Oh my God!” said a man’s voice.
There were hands on Randi. A light hit the fallen man, the shadow still releasing its fury on him. In the stark white light she saw a bloody knife, an arm bloody to the elbow. She saw a face splashed with blood, a snarl cut across the face. She saw eyes filled with fire.
Charlotte.
Chapter 61
The Valley
“Randi we need your help,” a woman said. “We need you to wake up.”
She was on the couch in Jim’s living room. There was a cold compress on her head. She jerked awake, a reaction to having passed out while she thought her life was in danger.
“Lloyd needs help,” Ellen said.
Randi tried to rise. She was unsteady and hands supported her from all sides. She took a step and sucked in a hard breath. “I think I have broken ribs.”
The hands didn’t let up. They led her to Lloyd, laid out in the floor, a bandaged hand elevated. The dressing seeped fresh red blood.
“It’s still bleeding,” Randi said.
“I know,” Ellen said. “That’s what we need help with. We tried stitching it but we can’t get the skin together.”
Randi shook her head. “Amputations. Sometimes you have to resect the bone and tissue to give you enough skin to close the wound. You’ll have to cauterize.”
Ellen grimaced. “How?”
“Do you have any pain meds?” Randi asked.
“Some,” Ellen replied. “Leftovers from various medical procedures over the years.”
“Give him two of whatever you got,” Randi said. “It’s going to hurt. Heat a piece of steel red hot with a propane torch. Press the fingers against it.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Ellen said.
“I’ll help,” Randi said. “It’s got to be done.”
Ellen went to the back of the house and returned with two pills. Randi studied them, then gave them to Lloyd. She held a bottle of water and helped him wash them down.
“Tell Jim to get a propane torch and a thin piece of steel. An old butcher knife or something would be perfect,” Randi said.
Ellen went to the door, then came back. “Jim’s getting something.”
“Charlotte?” Randi asked.
Ellen nodded outside. “She’s outside with the neighbors and her mother.”
“She okay?”
“They had to pull her off him. She didn’t want to quit stabbing him. Gary had to get up in her face and scream at her before she came out of it. She was someplace dark and far away.”
“She was probably picturing the man who killed her husband,” Randi said. “This man was the personification of everything that was wrong in her life.”
“Not anymore.”
Jim burst through the door with the items they needed.
“Get people in here to hold him,” Randi said. “This is going to be hard to watch.”
Jim rounded up several folks while Randi heated the butcher knife blade with the propane torch.
“Make sure that basement door is closed,” Randi said. “He’s going to scream.”
“It’s closed,” Ellen said.
“Lloyd,” Randi whispered.
He only mumbled in response. She pinned his hand down.
“Help me hold it,” she said. “The knife has to stay there for a moment.”
Other hands joined her in holding Lloyd. She pressed the knife firmly to the stumps of his two missing fingers.
Lloyd’s eyes flew open and he tried to scream but couldn’t get the air. He bucked and tried to jerk his hand away. They held him tight. Buddy turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch. Mercifully, Lloyd passed out. The sickening smell of burning flesh filled the room.
In a few seconds, Randi pulled the knife back and examined the charred stubs. Judging them satisfactory, she released his hand. “Keep him drugged up. Don’t bandage it yet. I need my ribs taped. Then I have to lie down.”
Chapter 62
The Valley
It didn’t take Jim much deliberation to conclude the residents of the valley should seize the spoils of their battle with the Glenwall folks. If they didn’t, someone else would. Worse yet, others from that same Wallace County group may return and use those supplies to continue establishing a foothold in the valley. Jim was determined to prevent that, even if more blood had to be spilled.
The folks in his tribe worked together to inventory the food and supplies from the camp at Rockdell Farms. They were divided evenly between each household with Jim and Buddy personally delivering them. For families like Randi’s, who’d not come with much in the way of supplies, it was a life-altering bounty. Besides emergency rations there were bulk groceries, personal hygiene items, and medical supplies.
The travel trailers and all of the support vehicles from the camp were brought into the valley for safekeeping. The fuel tanker was driven to a central location and all residents with a need for diesel fuel now had a windfall. Diesel pickups, tractors, and construction equipment could be operated
for a few months longer. They could farm and haul supplies.
There was no more discussion about blowing up the road on the Rockdell Farms end of the valley. All residents were now in agreement that the existence of the road was not a liability, it put all their lives at risk. The next vehicle to enter the valley could bring raiders, a gang, or any number of lowlifes looking to take those things that the people of the valley fought so hard to hang onto.
As it turned out, one of the Wimmers had worked in construction. He may have brought home some blasting caps from work one day to use with some old, weeping explosive that Mr. Wimmer had on the farm. As a group, they planted the charges under a bridge and detonated them. The bridge fragmented and dropped into the water. While not a certain guarantee against more trespassers, it was a step in the right direction.
Additional steps would have to be taken in the way of security. Permanent observation posts were being established at vantage points with helpful lines of sight, to be manned daily, and they intended to work on establishing a network of paid informants in the surrounding communities. With the gear they’d obtained from the trailers and the liquor that Lloyd hoped to be soon making, they would have plenty of goods that could be traded for information.
After several days of medicated stupor, Lloyd awoke in his bed at Buddy’s house with the old man watching over him. It was the same way Lloyd had watched over the old man after he’d been attacked by coyotes.
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Buddy said.
Lloyd looked at him groggily, trying to focus. “Oh shit,” Lloyd said. “This is payback time.”
“The bad news is that you can’t play the banjo. The good news is that you never really could anyway.”
Lloyd cracked a weak smile.
“It’s fortuitous that you were a student of the three-finger style popularized by Earl Scruggs. Of course, he had all his fingers and only choose to use three,” Buddy said.
The Borrowed World (Book 4): No Time For Mourning Page 24