Raging Storm

by Vannetta Chapman

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We stopped by to see if we could help.”

  “Too late for that.”

  “Obviously.”

  “What happened, Bill?” Shelby’s voice sounded strained, tired, and more than a little angry. “Where are the kids? Where are Donna and Maria? And why are you still here?”

  But Bill wasn’t watching them, he was peering out over the back field. He stepped closer, lowered his voice, and said, “Bring the car around. We’ll hide it between the Dumpsters.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the people who did this aren’t finished yet.”

  Max ran to Bianca and explained what they were doing. Shelby jogged after Bill, and Max had to run to catch up with the two of them. Even though Bill wasn’t running, his large steps still outpaced them both.

  There was a loading area halfway down the building. Someone had positioned two Dumpsters in front of the open space so that it wasn’t visible from a car. As Bill and Max pushed one of the Dumpsters back, Max heard the cry of a child, followed by two or three more.

  “You have children back here?” he asked.

  But Bill wasn’t listening. He motioned for Bianca to pull the Dodge up to the bay doors and next to a stock trailer. Max realized that was where the cries were coming from. Bill had put children in a stock trailer? Was anyone in there with them?

  He reached the side of the trailer at the same time that Shelby did. They both stared in disbelief at the Tennessee fainting goats, bleating and shuffling around.

  “You lost somebody,” Bill said, studying their group.

  “Patrick stayed in Austin, at the university.”

  Bill nodded, as if that made sense. “And you picked up a new recruit.”

  “Bill, meet Lanh. He saved our hides more than once in Austin.”

  Bill shook hands with the kid.

  “How did this happen?” Shelby asked. “When did it happen?”

  “Started yesterday morning.”

  “And the kids?”

  “We had word that something was coming down. Clay somehow got his hands on a school bus. Brought it in just hours before the attack.”

  “So they’re safe?”

  Bill shrugged. “We hope so. We pray so, but I won’t know until I catch up with them.”

  “Why are you still here?” Bianca asked.

  “Because I wasn’t willing to leave everything we had to a bunch of goons who aren’t thinking straight. The goats took off, into those woods.” He nodded toward the south. “It was easy enough to catch them with feed, but first I had to find a stock trailer.”

  “How did you find a stock trailer?” Lanh asked.

  “I know people who know people.” Now he looked at Shelby. “There are still some good folks in this world.”

  “So you came back, rounded up the goats, and now you’re leaving?”

  “I am, but I’m not too optimistic about my ability to get through to the highway. Driving a single automobile is one thing. Pulling a stock trailer?” Bill stared at the goats. “Folks will jump on. They’ll climb on, hang on, turn it over even.”

  “So what’s your plan?” Shelby asked.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “And?”

  “I haven’t thought of anything yet.”

  “You can’t just stay here,” Max said. A week ago he would have told the man to leave the goats and join his group, but in the last few days his attitude about resources had changed. Such a small thing—a goat, but it could provide milk for the children, produce more goats if they were cared for properly, and even provide food for the table if necessary. “But you can’t lose them, either. The kids, wherever they are, need at least this much.”

  “I don’t plan to lose them.”

  “So you are leaving?” Shelby moved over to the stock trailer, put her hand through the rails, and a goat immediately began to nuzzle her fingers.

  “We’ll do this together,” Max said. “Wait until late afternoon, like before. You drive, I’ll ride in the back with my rifle. Hopefully, that will be enough deterrent, and I won’t have to actually shoot anyone.”

  “I’ll ride with you.”

  “No, Shelby. You won’t. Do you realize how dangerous this is?”

  She was in front of him in a flash, glaring up at him and pushing her hand against his chest. “Don’t tell me it’s dangerous! This entire trip has been dangerous. Did it stop you or Bianca or Patrick? Did it stop Lanh from helping us on campus or Bill from coming back for these goats? Goats, for heaven’s sake, that will provide milk and cheese for those children. I. Am. Riding. With. You.” She backed him up with each of the last five words.

  Max felt sweat break out across his forehead. He didn’t have time to argue with her. He wished he could tie her up and throw her in the back of the Dodge, but that wasn’t an option. And then there was the point that she was right.

  “I’ll drive,” Bianca said. “Lanh will ride shotgun.”

  Lanh didn’t hesitate. “I will be happy to do that, only I’ll have a rifle, not…you know…a shotgun.”

  SEVENTY-TWO

  Max and Bill spent the next few hours scouring the school grounds for items that had survived the fire and the looting. Max was wearing his backpack, stuffing anything they might be able to use into it. Bill had a giant duffel bag and was doing the same.

  “You were here when this happened?”

  “Yeah. I stayed behind after Donna left on the school bus. I was trying to do what we’re doing now—salvage anything that could possibly be a help to the kids. I heard the attackers coming before I could see them.” Bill stared at a pile of solar panels that someone had bludgeoned with a heavy object. “Sounded like a giant wave rolling toward me. I had just enough time to run to the woods.”

  “Smart.”

  “Instinctive more than anything.”

  “How long were you out there?”

  “Twelve hours? Something like that.” Bill reached down under a pile of debris, pulled out a tub filled with blankets, and brushed off the top. “Funny thing is, if I hadn’t been in the woods, I wouldn’t have realized where the goats had gone.”

  “You heard them?”

  “No, I tripped over them.” Bill motioned toward a refrigerator that had been turned over. They turned it back on its side and were able to wrestle the door open, but it had been emptied. “You’ve heard of fainting goats, right?”

  “Sure. They don’t actually faint, though.”

  “Correct. They fall over. Their central nervous system causes their muscles to become paralyzed. They were all through the woods, lying there as if they were dead. Probably saved their lives too. If they’d been bleating, someone would have heard them and taken them.”

  “So what did you do?” Max could picture Bill, a giant of a man, crouched in the woods surrounded by paralyzed goats while the school in front of him burned.

  “I left the goats where they were until everyone was gone. Then I carried them back here and put them in the Dumpster with some hay. Turns out robbers don’t see the benefit of hay, so they left it.”

  “You put the goats in a Dumpster?”

  “Seemed safe enough.” Bill glanced toward the woods. “By the time the gunshots had died down, all of the goats were coming around. People quickly moved on to the next thing they could destroy. So I carried them two at a time to the Dumpster. The last three I found had climbed up into a tree.”

  Max started laughing. “You’re making that up.”

  “I’m not. Wouldn’t have believed it myself, but I looked up and saw them. Managed to coax them down with some of the hay.”

  While it felt incredibly good to laugh, Max’s thoughts turned suddenly solemn. “You took a big risk staying here.”

  “As did you, coming back. Why didn’t you keep driving when you saw the building had been destroyed?”

  “Shelby wouldn’t hear of it. Neither would Bianca, for that matter. Both have soft hearts when i
t comes to children.”

  “And you?”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t just drive past, not when someone might be here that needed our help.”

  “So you’re not the cold, calculating lawyer with the heart of an ogre?”

  “Oh, sure. I’m that too on my off days.”

  At that moment they both heard the crow of a rooster.

  “He’s in the woods.” Bill began walking out of the protection of the building, and that was when the first shot was fired.

  They both dropped to the ground.

  Bill crawled over to where Max was crouched behind the refrigerator they’d been looking in.

  “The shots are coming from the east.”

  Max looked up in time to see Bill clench a hand over his left shoulder and fall back against the refrigerator.

  “Are you hit?”

  “Grazed me.”

  “Let me see.”

  But as soon as Bill pulled his hand away, blood began pouring from the wound. He quickly clamped his hand back on it, though blood continued to seep between his fingers. Max shrugged out of his backpack, and began rummaging around in it.

  “We don’t have time—”

  “For you to pass out from blood loss? No, we don’t.” He found the roll of duct tape, pulled out a six-inch section and bit enough of the edge that he could tear it.

  Another shot pinged off the refrigerator, but they both ignored it. Max fastened the duct tape across Bill’s wound.

  “Thank you.”

  “You won’t thank me when Bianca has to pull it off.” He ripped off two more pieces and added them at different angles. It didn’t look pretty, but it would stop the bleeding. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not light-headed?”

  “Maybe a little. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I’m not asking you to shoot the guy. Just stay here and rise up enough to give him a target every few minutes.”

  “And you’ll be?”

  “Circling around behind him.” Max didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled out the semiautomatic Patrick had given him, released the magazine, and verified that it was full. He pushed the magazine back into the gun’s grip until he heard a click indicating it had locked in place. Digging into the backpack, he located his extra full magazine, stuck it in his back pocket, and took off in the opposite direction. He ran at a crouch through the rest of the kitchen and out the far side of the building. When he heard shots pinging off the refrigerator again, he sprinted across the open field and into the woods.

  It wasn’t the direction he wanted to go.

  His heart screamed for him to turn around and check on Shelby, Bianca, and Lanh, but his brain knew catching the shooter was the smarter move. As soon as he stepped into the cover of the woods, he breathed easier. He continued to hear the occasional ping of shots around Bill. It wasn’t too hard to calculate the trajectory. He stopped behind a tree, taking deep breaths and timing what he had to do next. He couldn’t afford for the shooter to hear him, but if he could mask his approach with the gun’s firing, he stood a chance. The second another shot rang out, he pulled back the slide on his Sig Sauer and immediately began to move forward.

  The gunshots grew louder, and when Max stopped completely, he could hear someone moving about, muttering between shots, though he couldn’t make out the person’s exact words.

  He placed each foot carefully, heel to toe, looking down before taking the next step. He came up behind the guy, who was wearing a baseball cap and shooting with a hunting rifle that had a professionally mounted scope on it. That would explain why he was able to hit the refrigerator from such a distance. Though now that he’d circled around, Max could see that this was where the trees were closest to the school. The man had a straight shot.

  Max was twenty, then fifteen, and finally only ten feet away from the shooter. He still couldn’t make out his features. He wore an old T-shirt, blue jeans, a camo vest, and the ball cap.

  “Put down the rifle.”

  There was no doubt the man heard him. He immediately tensed.

  “Put it on the ground and back up slowly.”

  He had the fleeting hope that the man would do just that, but instead he spun around, the barrel of the rifle leading the way and unloading what was left of his ammunition.

  Which was a stupid move. Max’s bullet hit him in the temple before he’d made a complete turn. The shots sputtered into the trees. The rifle fell from his hands and the man dropped to the ground, blood pouring from his wound, his eyes already locked open in death.

  SEVENTY-THREE

  You’re sure that he didn’t hit you?” Shelby and Bianca and Lanh had crouched down as soon as they heard gunfire. She’d wanted to run in Max’s direction to help, but Bianca had stopped her. When Max had appeared to check on them, his expression set in a grim line and still holding his semiautomatic, a sinking feeling had settled in her stomach.

  “I’m fine.”

  “But—”

  “Shelby, I’m fine.”

  “You killed him.”

  “Yes. He’s not going to hurt us.”

  He’d made them promise to stay put, and then he’d grabbed Lanh to help him bring Bill back to the group. Bill had settled with his back against the stock trailer. Bianca was already pulling out what medical supplies they had.

  “Can you still drive?” Max asked him.

  “Yes.”

  “Shelby, will Carter’s insulin be okay in this heat? If we wait until afternoon to leave?”

  “Yes. I checked it a few minutes ago. It’s still cool to the touch. One day in the car won’t spoil it. The important thing is that once we get back to High Fields I can refrigerate the supply.”

  “All right. Then our plan stays the same. We still have six hours, maybe a little more until we leave.” Max turned to Lanh, who had been watching the group silently. “Do you feel comfortable standing guard?”

  “Sure.”

  He pulled the kid over to where they could see between the Dumpsters. “You can cover from that point in the woods, to this point of the street. Left to right, then right to left. Got it? You scan constantly, and if you need a break, ask for one.”

  “Got it.”

  “One hundred and eighty degrees. You see anything, you tell Bianca or Shelby, and they’ll come get me.”

  “Where are you going?” Shelby asked.

  “To watch the other side of the building. We’re sitting ducks here. I want to see anything coming our way, which means we need to see three hundred sixty degrees. I’ll be over by the parking area.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, you won’t, Shelby.”

  “Bill doesn’t need me.”

  “I’ve got this,” Bianca confirmed.

  “Good. There’s something I need you to do.” He led her through the school to the shattered solar panels. “I want you to carry these to the trailer and use them to fill in the gaps between the rails.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because if someone shoots at us, I’d rather it not go through.”

  “And you think this will stop them?” When she tilted one of the panels upright, pieces of the shattered glass hit the ground like raindrops.

  “Use your gloves. The last thing we need is for you to get cut.”

  “But how will it help?”

  “The backs of these panels are cement, which is why they weigh so much.”

  Shelby attempted to pick one up.

  “About forty pounds. Hang on a minute.” He darted back into the building. Since most of it had burned to the ground, she could see him in the courtyard. He returned carrying a wagon, which he set down in front of her.

  “Take them one at a time. Just balance them on top of the wagon. By the time you move them all beside the trailer, Bianca should be finished patching up Bill. She can help you attach the panels to the inside of the trailer.”

  “With what?”

  “The duct tape wi
ll hold them if you wrap it tightly enough. It only needs to last from here to Highway 183. Once we’re back at the barn, Clay can remove them.”

  “And you think he’ll still be there? With Donna and the children?”

  “I hope so.”

  Shelby crossed her arms. She looked left and right, anywhere but in Max’s eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head.

  He stepped closer, put one hand on each of her shoulders, and waited until she looked him directly in the eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I heard the gunshots, and I thought…I was terrified that…” Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she reached to swipe them away. Then Max did the one thing she had prayed he wouldn’t and the one thing that she had hoped he would. He pulled her into his arms and simply held her until the trembling stopped.

  After a moment, she pulled away. “You’re supposed to be on watch.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Max kissed her once, on the forehead, and then he walked away. He was about to turn a corner when Shelby found her voice. “Be careful.”

  He glanced back at her, nodded once, and was gone.

  She stood there a moment, struggling with her emotions. Longing for the quiet moments when he had held her in his arms, had kissed her. Relief that he and Bill were fine. Fear that this was about to get much worse. An overwhelming need to be home, to see her son, to make sure the insulin was safe. And underneath all of those things—guilt. Max had just killed someone. She had done the same thing outside the church. Is this what their life had become?

  Murder was wrong, but neither of those instances had been murder. They’d been self-defense. Did that justify what they’d done? Honestly, she didn’t know. But as she tipped one of the solar panels onto the wagon and began to pull it back toward the stock trailer, she knew one thing with certainty.

  If need be, she would kill again. She wasn’t proud of that. She didn’t want to be that person, but neither would she forfeit her life, her friends’ lives, or the life of her son.

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  Bianca and Shelby had lined the perimeter of the trailer with bales of hay. They’d covered the gaps between the railings with solar panels, though it had used all of their duct tape to do so. When they had finished, Lanh asked Bianca to take his place on lookout and went in search of treasure, a word he’d said with a smile and a wink. He returned a few minutes later, holding a can of Crisco.