by L. L. Akers
Jake hoped they’d lose them to the gravel. He screamed toward the window, “Hang on!” He swerved, trying to make them a harder target. His view of the bike was limited around the heads of five people bobbing around so he couldn’t see what they were doing. Couldn’t see if they had guns.
His people in the back all swerved left and then right, Tucker nearly falling and then standing up again, sloppily trying to take aim. Tarra pushed him aside, and went down at the far end of the bed on both knees, looking out at the motorcycle, spreading her arms and tightly gripping the tailgate.
Tina pushed the three men behind her, and stepped in behind Tarra, slightly to her right. She took a knee, balancing her gun across Tarra’s right shoulder. The men watched in fascinated amazement at the two women crouched down low behind the metal gate, one providing support and the other with an eye behind the scope, pressing the rifle tight against her own shoulder.
Tarra waited until Tina was steady, then yelled over her shoulder to the men, “Stay back. She’s got this.” Her words were lost over the wind and the scream of the bike, but the men weren’t coming any closer anyway. She looked over her shoulder, and Tina gave her a nod—their signal—and she let go of the tailgate with her left arm and reached around to stick a finger into her right ear.
Jake snatched glances of them from his rear-view mirrors and did the best he could to keep the truck steady again, while sweat beaded on his forehead and his heart raced in time with the motorcycle.
No way. It’s an impossible shot at this speed anyway, he thought, hoping they were just posturing to scare the bike riders away. But it didn’t look like posturing. The two worked together like a well-oiled machine, not even needing words.
Tarra yelled at the two on the motorcycle. “Final warning. Fall back!”
The bike kept coming.
Tina and Tarra held their pose.
Jesus. These women act like a seasoned assassin team…serious, steady, and deadly.
Jake couldn’t let them shoot it out. But if the passenger on the motorcycle had a gun, the five people in the back of his truck were like sitting ducks right now.
What if they were just playing around though?
Making his mind up, he drove crazily, turning back onto the main blacktop highway, kicking up a storm of rocks behind him. Finally, he nearly toppled Tina and Tarra over as he careened between two abandoned cars, one on each side of the road spaced barely a car’s length apart. One man appeared to be standing guard over his vehicle, a newish Porsche Cayenne SUV, with a ball bat in his hand. Jake wondered if he’d been there since the lights went out. They flashed by, missing him by inches, and the man angrily waved the bat at them, screaming profanities.
Poor guy probably still hoping for a tow truck or a miracle.
A chorus of screams assaulted his ears from the back. He checked the mirror…everybody still okay—but seemingly really pissed off at him.
But the bike had fallen back some. Maybe they’d had their fun and had given up? Or maybe they’d been hit with a rock and had to slow down and stop soon.
Jake didn’t give them a chance to change their mind. Breathing a sigh of relief, and with the road now clear, he put the pedal to the metal and let Ruby roar, hoping to see Tina and Tarra stand down and take their seats back on the hay, and to never see the motorcycle again.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
23
Grayson’s Group
Puck watched with animated interest as Olivia stood defiant in the back yard, her arms crossed over her chest. He couldn’t believe grown-up sisters still fought like this. “No. I said I don’t want to. You do it,” she said to her sister, Gabby.
Gabby had set up some targets in the back yard—two soda cans, an empty soup can, and an empty coffee can—and was trying to coerce her sister into doing some target practice.
“I’ve already shot some rounds,” Gabby argued. “Graysie has, too. But really, it’s you that needs the practice, Olivia. I put up some new cans for you. Let’s see what you can do.”
Olivia fiercely shook her head. “I’ve got to get food ready. I’m not a shooter. I’m a cook.”
Graysie flipped her long red hair over her shoulder and piped in. “Earlier you said we all have do a bit of everything around here now. I cooked this morning, so you need to shoot,” she chided her stepmother.
Puck stood up from the back porch where he was sitting beside Graysie, enjoying the sunshine. Ozzie ran back to him with his ball, and he threw it again without complaint, this time knowing not to whine anymore that he couldn’t run with the dog. He knew Olivia was getting angry with him. She kept saying no, be still. But, being still was so hard… he felt like running. Or doing something.
Instead, he’d watched as first Gabby, and then Graysie went through the motions of disassembling their guns, cleaning them, putting them back together, loading them, and shooting them. He’d watched closely, with great interest, and until now hadn’t made a peep.
He raised his hand on his good arm into the air, nearly jumping up and down with excitement. “I’ll do it next!”
As one, Olivia, Graysie and Gabby all shook their heads and loudly said, “NO!”
His lip poked out. “Why can’t I do it? Please! I know how to shoot. I do it on my Xbox all the time.”
Gabby set her gun down on the little card table she’d set up for her shooting stuff, and walked over to Puck, looking up into his innocent face. She gave him a one-armed hug. “This is different. It’s shooting for real, and that’s dangerous, sweetie.”
Puck didn’t want to argue, but he’d watched them carefully. He knew how to handle those guns now. He was sure of it. He was a good shooter, on his Xbox. He wanted so badly to prove it, so that maybe GrayMan would give him a gun to carry, too. “Please? I know how. And GrayMan carries a gun all the time. So does Mr. Jake, and you, and Graysie and those other ladies,” he said. “I’m the only one that don’t get to carry a gun.”
“I’m not carrying,” Olivia chirped brightly.
“That’s because you’re scared,” Gabby answered, then looked at Puck. “And you should be scared of them, too, Puck. They’re not toys.”
Puck crossed his arms, forgetting his injury, and flinching yet again. “I’m not a little boy. I’m almost a grown-up. Same as Graysie,” he insisted stubbornly.
“Kid’s got a point,” Graysie said cheerfully as she sat braiding her hair in boredom. “Teach him to shoot like a girl, Aunt Gabby.”
Gabby gave Graysie the look. “Puck, if you’ll wait until Tina and Tarra get back, I’ll ask them to teach you. Those ladies are real instructors. They know the proper way to teach, and they’ve already mentioned they’re going to be giving Jake some more lessons. We’ll ask Grayson, and if he agrees, I’m sure they’ll be glad to teach you, too.”
Puck still didn’t seem satisfied. “I don’t want to shoot like a girl. I want to shoot like a man,” he insisted.
They all laughed—all except Puck.
Gabby answered him. “That’s just an expression. It doesn’t mean girls shoot different from men. It sort of means they shoot better—sometimes,” she said, and glanced at Olivia.
Olivia glared back at her and walked off, going into the kitchen to work on their next meal. She slammed the door on her way in.
Gabby ignored her sister’s dramatic exit, and went on. “Women seem to have a natural talent for shooting, so I’ve heard. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been at the range, and I hear some man tell another man, ‘you shoot like a girl.’ It’s not an insult. It’s a compliment—a good thing.”
Puck beamed. “Okay. I want to shoot like a girl!”
“Alrighty then. I’ll tell you what. You help Olivia around here with the food today, and we’ll see what we can do when Grayson and the ladies get back.”
Puck knew what he had to do. He’d show them he wasn’t a child. Graysie had already told him to do it, and Gabby just told him to help out with the food. Maybe
if he brought food back, GrayMan would let him and Jenny stay forever.
When Gabby and Graysie returned to their shooting table, Puck stubbornly headed off into the woods.
He’d show them.
24
The Three E’s
A shot rang out, followed by horrifying, blood-chilling screams.
Elmer skid the tractor to a stop and jumped down, running as fast as his old legs could carry him to the end of the wagon with his shotgun ready. Already huffing and puffing, he turned the corner, coming face to face with Emma and quickly looked her over. “Hell’s bells you skeered me, girl. You alright?”
“He moved,” she said, with a stoney face.
Elmer turned to look, and had to swallow hard. Pudgy’s groin was a mess of blood. He was on his knees, his buddies tightly huddled to him, against their will, writhing in agony.
He pulled off his hat and slapped his leg with it, sending a plume of red dirt into the air. “Dagnammit, girl! Were you aiming for his pecker?”
Emma slowly nodded yes, not taking her eyes off of him. She didn’t blink an eye.
“Son of a—” Rake screamed. He tried to pull away from Pudgy, failing.
Cowboy stared over his shoulder with an open mouth, not able to really see the damage; his imagination filled in the blanks and his Adam’s apple frantically bobbed up and down.
Pudgy screamed an animalistic howl.
Elmer cussed a stream of profanities under his breath and put his hat back on, finally looking at Emma in disapproval. “You got a medical kit in that bag? We can’t leave him like this.”
Emma shook her head slowly side to side, still not speaking. She was lying. The first aid kit was in the bag; quick-clot, too. She could probably stop the bleeding, at the very least, if she wanted.
But she didn’t want to.
Elmer turned back to the bleeding, screaming man, and visibly flinched at the red spreading so quickly. “Yeah. I’m not sure patching him up is gonna be doing him any favors anyway.” He held his hand out to Emma. “Give me your pistol.”
Robotically, she handed it over.
Elmer stepped up to Pudgy and put the gun against the back of his head, and he hunkered over, screaming. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pulled the trigger, putting the man out of his misery, and putting the fear of God into his buddies. They screamed and tried to back away, scooting like crabs, dragging the dead man with them as they circled the tree.
“Hold still, darn it,” Elmer cussed. He pulled his knife out of his pocket and cut Pudgy loose. “I did him a mercy. Ain’t no medical care around here. He’d of suffered mightily.”
Cowboy leaned over and vomited, and Rake sobbed, his face a mask of terror as he tried to flinch away from Elmer.
Elmer scoffed. “Stop your sniveling. I ain’t gonna shoot you. We’re leaving, but like the lady said the first time, don’t move until we’re long gone!”
Cowboy tried to wipe his mouth on his shoulder, missing it by inches. “What about your watchers? They might kill us now. If not them, then someone else could come by and kill us, too!” he screeched.
Elmer ignored his question about their ‘watchers’ and re-checked the zip ties on Cowboy and Rake, making sure they were as tight as possible. “You been watching too many movies, boy. Things ain’t got that bad. Ain’t nobody’s started senseless killing yet…” He looked at Pudgy, laying face down on the ground. “Well, at least not for no reason. You boys ain’t got nothing to kill for. It’s not like you’re purdy or anything. No food, no water…ain’t gonna have any guns when we leave. You ain’t got assets worth wasting a bullet on.”
“Get back in the wagon,” he said to Emma, turning to go. Then he stopped and turned back, whispering to her, “And don’t shoot the other two.” He hurried to his tractor.
Cowboy slumped against the tree, and looked at Emma. “He’s wrong about that. The killing has started. You’ll see.”
The man couldn’t have been more right.
25
Tullymore & Grayson’s Group
Jake had breathed in relief too soon. Two minutes later a glance in the mirror told him the bike was not giving up. It The driver twisted to full throttle and sped forward, gaining on them again. He was already pushing Ruby almost to her limit…the old girl was rattling frantically under her shiny red coat of paint, groaning in exertion.
These idiots have a death-wish. Can they not see we have five freaking guns back there?
The motorcycle moved in fast behind them again and Tina and Tarra set up the same position, this time the three men knowing to move back out of their way.
Jake looked ahead. The road was lined with abandoned cars, blocking the right lane, and the left shoulder of the road. They were bumper to bumper. There was nothing he could do but take the left lane between the rows of cars… a straight shot through the tight tunnel of metal and glass, with no room for swerving
He cringed, his foot steady on the gas, still going way too fast, and waited to see what would happen, trying to keep his eyes on the road in front of him. “What’s going on, Grayson? Talk to me!” he yelled.
Grayson turned in his seat to get a better look. “The bike is still behind us. Two hundred feet away…”
Jake sped up a tiny bit, hoping Ruby held together at that speed long enough to get through the two rows of cars before the bike caught up. The riders didn’t have a long gun, so the only way they were really in danger was if the bike got close enough to take a shot with a pistol—if they had a pistol.
But they weren’t close enough yet, not at these speeds.
On one hand Jake hoped Tina held her fire; but on the other hand, Tarra and Tina were both on the front line. It was likely one or both of them could spout a hole any second. “Tell those women to get down!” he yelled at Grayson.
“They’re not gonna listen to me! The bike is ‘bout a hundred-seventy-five foot away, and gaining now…” Grayson said.
Jake took a deep breath and held it. What if they shot and it hit him in the back of the head while he was driving? The hair on the back of his neck stood up and a chill went down his spine. He tried to watch the mirror and the road in front of him. He wanted to see it coming if he was about to check out, but he couldn’t see past Tucker and the guys.
If he were shot, it wouldn’t be just him biting the bullet…he’d wreck Ruby and probably kill all seven of them, or at least severely injure the others.
He quickly tried to count the cars they had yet to pass through, but the metal and glass was just a glittery blur. If they could just make it past the cars that had them pinned in, then he could swerve again and maybe everyone would miss their shots and he could make a get-away.
“Hundred-fifty-feet away…” Grayson said, his voice raising.
Damn these cars.
If they shot Tucker, what would Katie and the kids do? He’d feel awful if he lost anyone else, but he didn’t really know Mickey or Frank well. Or Tina and Tarra. But Tucker’s family… he knew. Tucker had four kids! Katie would be devastated. She might even blame him. He was the driver after all. She’d wonder if there’d been anything else Jake could have done.
Was there anything else he could do? Frantically, his mind raced, looking for a plan.
“Hundred-twenty-five feet away…” Grayson yelled in a frenzied voice, ducking lower in the seat. “Take your shot, girl.”
“No! Don’t say that. We don’t know if they’re armed,” Jake yelled back.
Visions of the dead man at Nick’s lot flashed through his head… the blood…the guilt…all over one four-wheeler.
Grayson yelled back at him, “We don’t know that they’re not armed, either!” He turned back to stare at the scene unfolding. “Hundred-fifteen-feet away!”
Come on, Ruby…
Tina was patiently waiting, her gun as steady as it could be while driving sixty miles an hour down the road. Jake hoped she wouldn’t pull the trigger unless she saw a gun. There was no need for anyone to die today.
“Less than a hundred feet! What’re you waiting for?” Grayson yelled, although there was no way Tina could hear him.
Jake’s hands were shaking. Only two more cars and he could swerve to the left. Then swerve to the right…and keep on swerving until either the bike gave up, or he found a way to get away from them.
“Shit!” Grayson screamed. “They’re gaining—”
—BANG
A shot rang out, just as Jake zipped past the last car.
He watched with dread as the motorcycle disappeared from the rear-view mirror, followed by the horrifying screech of sliding metal and an ear-splitting crash as it slammed into an abandoned car in the right lane, and came to a dead stop.
With a heavy heart, Jake finally made his coveted swerve, then skidded to a stop. He and Grayson both jumped out and ran to the back of the truck to look.
The two passengers lay in a twisted tangle near the mangled bike. Tina had shot the front tire out.
The group jumped out of the truck, and they all ran back toward accident.
The driver still had one battered hand on the handlebars. Blood dripped out of his smashed helmet around tufts of blonde-hair, and his legs lay still, both at a horribly wrong angle. It was obvious he was dead. The face-shield was shattered, giving them a good look at his face. Ironically it didn’t have a scratch on it. Jake could see he was young. Mid-twenties, tops.
The vehicle they hit was a battered mess, too. A human-sized, bloody dent in the SUV was evidence that one of the riders had hit it and literally bounced off.
The other passenger lay in a contorted heap, three feet away.
No movement there either.
Jake gritted his teeth and scowled at Tucker. They should’ve never left Tullymore.
Tina glanced his way, a hard look on her face. “They wouldn’t give up, Jake. I waited. And they were warned. I didn’t pull the trigger until the passenger reached into his pocket. I had to shoot first. But I shot at the tire…not them. I hoped it would give them at least half a chance,” she babbled, obviously feeling distraught at the outcome.