Broken Lines Omnibus: A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World

by James Hunt

  Frankie danced around him, throwing a few jabs, causing Mike to back up. A sharp pain shot through his left side any time he took a deep breath. He figured one of his ribs punctured his lung.

  Mike wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. This was a fight he was going to lose, but he needed to make it last. Every punch he took was one his daughter didn’t have to take.

  “C’mon, daddio,” Frankie said. “You’re not getting tired on me, are you?”

  Mike forced his hands up. He saw three of Frankie, so he aimed for the one in the middle. He moved in and threw a right cross. Frankie dodged and countered with his own right across Mike’s chin.

  More blood and a tooth flew from Mike’s mouth. Mike shook it off. He hit Frankie with a three-punch combo, knocking him to the ground.

  “Oh-ho! Looks like the old man’s got some spunk left in him, Frankie,” Jake said.

  Frankie wiped the blood from his nose and jumped back up. He slapped Jake’s hand and retreated from the ring.

  Jake walked in with a swagger, taking his cut and shirt off and tossing it to one of his guys. He was a lot faster than Frankie was, and he worked Mike’s face like a punching bag.

  Mike’s stance started to waiver. He was losing his balance. Everything was starting to fade in and out of darkness. The more he tried to fight it the harder it became.

  “C’mon, Jake! Finish it already!” Frankie shouted.

  Jake moved in, and with one massive haymaker, Mike hit the ground.

  Mike’s whole body was numb. He couldn’t move. This was it. He couldn’t go on any longer.

  “Pick him up,” Jake said.

  When they moved Mike, he felt like he was floating. He looked down at this feet and saw himself standing, but he couldn’t feel the ground.

  Jake walked up and patted Mike’s cheek.

  “Hey, fun time’s over. Wake up,” Jake said.

  Mike’s head swayed back and forth, looking left, then right, until his eyes finally focused on one thing; his daughter. When he saw her, a surge of strength ran through him.

  Keep going. Keep going for her.

  “As much as I’ve enjoyed beating the shit out of you, it’s time to take care of business. Since neither of the girls confessed to murdering our brother, and since the two of you have killed some of our club members tonight, you’ll be facing the death penalty,” Jake said.

  The bikers grunted in agreement.

  “Now, since there are ten of us and only four of you, we can’t all kill you, so I thought it would be better to watch you kill each other,” Jake said.

  “What?” Mike asked.

  “You’re going to duel.”

  “No.”

  “Then you watch me kill her.”

  Jake pointed to Kalen tied up on the ground. Mike struggled against the bikers holding him, but couldn’t break free. Jake moved in close. His voice dropped to a whisper.

  “Or maybe I have some fun with her first. How does that sound, Dad?”

  Mike’s mind wandered to when Kalen was a little girl. She was riding her bike for the first time. She kept screaming for him to let go, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep her safe, protect her. It was the same instinct guiding him now. After all these years he still hadn’t let go.

  “Okay,” Mike said.

  “Bring the old man and the girl,” Jake said.

  Kalen was tossed over to Jake while Ulysses was shoved into the circle with Mike.

  Two pistols were emptied with the exception of one bullet. They spaced Mike and Ulysses ten feet apart.

  “The first person to shoot wins, then dies, so take your time,” Jake said.

  The gang laughed.

  “Oh, and if either of you get any ideas about who you’re going to shoot, let me present to you my insurance,” Jake said.

  Jake took out his pistol, cocked it, and put the barrel to Kalen’s temple.

  One of the bikers shoved the pistol into Mike’s hand. He gripped it loosely, keeping it at his side; Ulysses had one as well.

  “You only get one shot, so make it count!” Frankie said.

  All of the bikers placed bets on who would shoot first, laughing, egging both of them on to get it over with.

  “Don’t be a pussy!”

  “C’mon, pull the trigger!”

  “Kill him!”

  Mike couldn’t lift the pistol. It was dead weight in his hand. Across from him was the man who raised him. His father was the one who taught him wrong from right. He was the one who made him the man he was today—a good man.

  There were times when Ulysses was harder than the steel that poured from Pittsburgh’s mills, but he could say one word to make everything all right.

  If Mike didn’t shoot his father or his father shoot him, then his daughter would die. He struggled, trying to bring the pistol up from his waist. His entire arm was shaking.

  “I’m getting bored, boys,” Jake said.

  Mike finally forced the gun up. His index finger went to the trigger, barely touching the small sliver of steel. Ulysses’s head was lined up in the sights. Tears started to well up in Mike’s eyes. They streamed down his face. He couldn’t keep the gun steady.

  “Dad,” Mike said.

  “It’s okay, Son.”

  Mike’s knuckles turned white against the black composite of the handle. He squeezed the grip so hard he thought it would crush in his hand. He knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and as the gun dropped to his side, he stood there crying, shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do it. Dad, I can’t do it,” Mike said.

  His father’s figure was blurred through the tears pouring form his eyes. Mike looked to Kalen, who was sobbing. His family was falling apart. He couldn’t save them. Everything he’d done, all he had sacrificed was for naught.

  “Michael,” Ulysses said.

  His father looked calm. A faint smile grew on his face. It wasn’t a smile of happiness, but one of pain.

  “I love you,” Ulysses said.

  Mike couldn’t hear his own screams above the sound of the gun when Ulysses put the pistol to his temple and squeezed the trigger.

  ***

  Ulysses lay collapsed on the ground. He was nothing more than a pile of flesh, lifeless and motionless. Everything was silent with the exception of the high-pitched hum of the ringing in his ears from the sound of the pistol.

  Frankie ripped the pistol from Mike’s hand and put the barrel to the back of his head.

  “Congratulations. You’ve moved on to the next round. Too bad it’s sudden death,” Frankie said.

  Mike saw Kalen, who was crying hysterically, crumpling to a heaped mess on the floor. This was the world now. This was what happened to people when they had something of value; it was taken from them.

  “Good-bye, asshole,” Frankie said.

  Before Frankie could squeeze the trigger, the ringing in Mike’s ears was replaced by another sound. He turned his head to the east, and he could see lights in the distance, moving quickly toward the town.

  Mike felt the barrel of the gun removed from his head.

  “What the hell?” Frankie said.

  “Move some of the cars, block the road!” Jake shouted.

  Frankie started to run off, but Jake called him back.

  “Secure them first,” Jake yelled.

  A few of the bikers helped Frankie drag them back to the sheriff’s office, tossing them in separate cells.

  Jake’s crew managed to move four cars, staggering them across Main Street.

  “When it slows down, aim for the tires,” Jake ordered.

  “It’s a Jeep!” Frankie shouted.

  When the Jeep came within shooting range, it didn’t slow down. It sped up.

  “Fire!” Jake said.

  The Jeep smashed through the first car, the front crumpling, but still moved forward. It swerved to try and miss the second, but was met by the gang’s gunfire.

  The bullets ble
w out the driver’s-side tire, and the Jeep lost control, flipping onto its side, and skidded into another one of the parked cars.

  Tank was the first person who made it to the Jeep. When he looked inside, he saw the kids crying in the backseat. Jung was stirring awake, and Jenna was motionless.

  “There’re kids in here!” Tank shouted.

  Tank unbuckled Claire first and then grabbed Jung Jr. Both of them were screaming for their parents as Tank set them on the sidewalk, making sure they were okay.

  He pressed his finger to Jenna’s neck, trying to feel a pulse, but there was nothing. The side of her head was covered in blood. He unbuckled her and pulled her from the Jeep, laying her away from the kids.

  Jung was starting to regain consciousness when Tank got to him.

  “W-where’s Jenna?” he asked.

  “Just hold on, pal,” Tank said.

  Jung was bleeding from his forehead, and a shard of glass stuck out of his arm.

  “What are you doing?” Jake asked.

  “They’re hurt,” Tank answered.

  “I know. Now finish the job. Let’s get this Jeep flipped over and see if it’ll still run. It could come in handy.”

  Tank pushed Jake in the back, sending him to the ground. When Jake got up, he pulled his gun on Tank.

  “You gonna make them duel too?” Tank shouted.

  “You’re way out of line, brother,” Jake said.

  “We can’t keep going down this path, Jake. We don’t kill kids.”

  “We’ll go down whatever path I take us.”

  “We’ve killed a lot of people since this shit went down, Jake, but we’ve never hurt kids before. It’s not something I’m going to start doing now.”

  Jake lowered the pistol and holstered it.

  “The kids are on you. Do what you want with them. Take the other two to the sheriff’s cells. Let’s see if they know our friends in there.”

  “The woman’s dead. She doesn’t have a pulse.”

  “Fine, then take the man.”

  ***

  Mike tried to make sense of everything that just happened, but he couldn’t. He just watched his father kill himself, sacrifice his life so Mike wouldn’t have the burden of pulling the trigger.

  When Frankie came in and tossed Jung inside the cell with him, Mike was brought back to reality. His wife and son were still at the cabin, and his daughter was still alive; he was still alive. There was still a chance.

  “Looks like you’re getting a little company,” Frankie said.

  Jung was unconscious when he hit the floor. Mike crawled to him, checked his pulse, and made sure he was still breathing.

  “Jung,” Mike said. “Jung, what happened?”

  Jung’s reply was nothing but mumbles and groans. Mike couldn’t understand what he was babbling on about.

  “Cincinnati… Jenna… I’m sorry,” Jung said.

  “Cincinnati? Jung, where’s Anne? Where’s Freddy?”

  Mike brought his hand to the side of Jung’s head, and blood stuck to his fingers.

  “Jesus, Jung, what happened?”

  Jung started to cry. Mike wasn’t sure if it was from the pain or something else. He just kept shaking his head and weeping. The sobs were silent, but every once in a while a gasp would escape.

  He rocked back and forth on the ground, curled in a ball, until he didn’t have any tears left. Finally, he spoke.

  “I took the Jeep,” Jung said.

  “What?”

  “Jenna was getting worse. The antibiotics weren’t working. The only way she was going to live was if I got her to Cincinnati.”

  “Where’s my family, Jung?”

  “They’re at the cabin. I… I tied them up and stole the car and got out of there as fast as I could.”

  Jung didn’t look Mike in the eye. He kept his face down, ashamed.

  The pain Mike felt was fading away. His father was dead, his daughter was beaten to a pulp, and now a man who he let into his home, protected, fed, and made sure his family was safe, betrayed him.

  “Did you hurt them?” Mike asked.

  “No, no, they’re okay.”

  Mike wanted to smash what was left of Jung’s life into oblivion. There were a lot of things that Mike could forgive, but attempting to hurt his family by stealing from him wasn’t one of them.

  “Daddy!” Jung Jr. said.

  “See? Daddy’s okay. He’s just in here,” Tank said.

  Jung crawled to the front of the cell, pushing his arms through the cracks in the bar, grasping his children.

  “Are you guys okay?” Jung asked.

  Jung Jr. and Claire nodded. Tank unlocked the cell.

  “C’mon, I’m taking you to one of the motel rooms. You can stay with your kids there,” Tank said.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” Jung said. “Wait. What about the rest of them?”

  “You know these people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Listen, it’s better if you act like you don’t know them, trust me.”

  Jung didn’t bother to turn around. He just left with his kids, and Tank locked the cell. If he had turned around, he would have seen a face that haunted him for the rest of his life. Mike never felt more disgusted in his entire life.

  ***

  When Sam saw the Jeep heading down the dirt road to the highway, he double-timed it. Whatever made them leave must have been bad.

  He still had his business shoes on, which made it awkward to run, especially through the uneven forest floor. Sam pushed through it though. The moment he left the cabin, he went into operation mode.

  Every mission he went on as an Army Ranger, he would get into a single mind-set. Complete the objective.

  It was all just a job, a task given to him and carried out as quickly and efficiently as he and his team could do it.

  When he was done, he felt no remorse for anything that happened on the mission. It wasn’t because he was heartless but because it was the only way for him to keep on living once the mission was over.

  Once he made it out of the forest and onto the highway, he was able to pick up his pace. The flat, level road was easier to run on than the divots and tree roots of the forest.

  Sam kept his rifle up at all times, scanning the perimeter of the town. When he made it to Main Street, he saw the Jeep flipped on its side.

  He could hear some commotion down the street. It was the sound of a child crying. Sam advanced, each step hitting the sidewalk quickly, quietly.

  Tank was taking Jung and his two kids up the stairs to the second floor of the motel. Sam watched them go into one of the rooms a few doors down.

  Sam peered through the scope. Room 24. He sat there for a moment, taking in the surroundings. The motel had forty-two rooms, twenty-one rooms on each floor. From what he heard at the cabin, there were no more than twenty bikers, probably fewer if Mike was a good shot.

  It wasn’t likely the bikers would have bunked up, so they were probably in their own rooms. Sam didn’t see anyone on watch, so they either didn’t have enough men for that, were too tired, or thought they weren’t in danger anymore. Either way, he had the advantage.

  Sam wanted to keep this as covert as possible. It wouldn’t do any good to let the gang know he was here by running in guns blazing. He climbed the staircase, pressed his ear to the door of room 24.

  There was nothing but mumbles, but he recognized Jung’s voice. He never saw the biker who went in there with him come out, so he’d have to act fast the moment he opened the door. He strapped the rifle over his shoulder and pulled the knife from his belt.

  One. Two. Three.

  He swung the door open and immediately went for Tank, who had his back to him. Sam made it to him in two steps, and in less than three seconds, he had his hand over Tank’s mouth and the knife slicing his throat.

  Jung gasped and jumped back, covering his children. Tank let out a few gargled chokes of breath before he finally passed out.

  “Shh, Jung, it�
�s me, Sam. I’m here to help. Are you all right?”

  Jung just stared at Sam, then his face twisted into grief and he started to cry.