by AJ Powers
Clay willed his body to move, but it refused to cooperate. Then his view of the clear, blue sky above was obstructed by a snarky sixteen-year-old.
“Get your ass up, Clay, it’s time to move!” she echoed Morgan’s final words to her. “You’re coming back with us, I’m not going to babysit Geoff all by myself.”
One by one, power seemed to restore to his muscles, allowing him to get to his knees. “Hey!” Dusty said, getting Clay’s attention. The girl gave a sincere smile. “It’s gonna be okay. Just be smart.”
“Stand tall!” Kohler said. “Hold the line!”
Clay nodded at Dusty and made his way back over to the car. Propping the rifle on the hood, Clay clumsily aimed with just his right hand and engaged every charging body.
Dusty was down to her sidearm, but she was having success with it.
“Changing mags,” Clay said as he knelt behind the car. After releasing the empty magazine from his LaRue, Clay dropped the muzzle of the rifle into the snow—the burning-hot barrel sizzled after being smothered with the frozen powder. Grabbing the final magazine in his chest pouch, Clay quickly inserted it into the magazine well, and tapped the bolt release with his knee. The snow that stuck to his flash suppressor melted away by the time he popped back over the car. Down to his final thirty rounds, Clay was more intentional with his shots.
As the herd up ahead started thinning, optimism began to flood his mind. They might just be able to win this, yet.
Still in the fight.
Feeling the bolt lock back, Clay verified he had run dry on 5.56. Wasting no time, his transition to the Glock 17 was seamless, and he immediately put the pistol to work. Seventeen rounds went fast. Reloading the pistol wasn’t going to be as easy to do as it was with his rifle. Dropping the empty magazine, Clay looked over at Dusty, “Dust, need help,” he said as he tossed her the Glock. Fishing a magazine off his belt, he tossed the magazine to Dusty, who promptly inserted it into the handle before giving a tug on the slide. She quickly handed it back to Clay.
Before he could stand back up, Clay heard something he hadn’t heard in what felt like hours.
Nothing.
The gunfire had stopped; the screams and yells had ceased. Silence had taken over the town once again—beautiful, precious silence. An enemy terrorizing their spirits before, the sound of nothing was now warmly welcomed by those who were still breathing.
Slowly getting to his feet, Clay winced as he absent-mindedly tried to push off the ground with his left arm. Helping him to his feet, Dusty stood next to her good friend as Captain Kohler cautiously declared victory.
As the soldiers clapped, whistled and raised their rifles high up into the air, an overwhelming sense of peace fell upon the weary town. Against all odds, they had done it; Liberty had survived.
The celebrations were promptly cut short when Arlo himself walked through the gate, his empty Galil strapped to his back as he held his hands above his head and waved a white handkerchief back and forth. “Soldiers of Liberty, don’t shoot; I formally surrender,” he said through delirious laughter.
As he came to a stop just past the gate, every pistol, rifle, and shotgun in the area had given the man its undivided attention. His unhinged smile as he looked at his surroundings gave Clay chills. Knowing this was not going to end well, Clay stroked the trigger with his finger.
Arlo’s eyes flashed with antipathy as they landed upon Shelton’s face. After which, he feigned a smile. “Bravo, Mayor Shelton!” he said, lowering his hands to give an insincere applause, causing a lot of edgy soldiers to tense. “I’ll be honest,” he said, stuffing the handkerchief into a breast pocket on his coat. “I sorely underestimated what this little town was capable of. Quite frankly, I thought for sure you would have given up long before December, but you turned out to be quite the tenacious bunch, didn’t you?”
“Damn straight!” one of the soldiers yelled.
“And Brendan!” Arlo continued, striking a nerve with Shelton, despite his lack of involvement in the decision. “Well, it takes a lot of cajones to order the assassination of a man’s son—I didn’t know you had it in ya,” he said, followed by more deranged laughter.
Kohler took a breath in to speak, to make it clear that Shelton had not ordered the hit on his son, but Shelton, knowing what Kohler was about to say, held his hand up to him, shaking his head.
Lowering his Mini-14, Shelton replied, “Arlo, you’ve known me longer than any other soul here, so you know that I take no delight in killing another man, especially the son of a man I once called a friend…” The weeks of pent up frustration and anger finally started to come out, “But you, once again, gave me no choice in the matter!” he shouted. “Brendan’s blood is just as much on your hands as it is mine.”
“You would be wise to watch your tongue, friend,” Arlo shot back, as if he had any edge in this fight.
“You see these people here?” Shelton continued, motioning to those standing around him. “I made a promise to them…to their wives…husbands…children…that I would do everything in my power to keep them safe—to keep this town safe. Sometimes, those decisions are black and white,” he said, handing his rifle to Kohler before walking up to Arlo, “and other times they are cloaked in gray. But my pledge to the people of this town was never contingent on making easy choices. And someday, I will readily stand before my Maker to answer for those choices, so that these people won’t have to.”
Arlo had run out of moves the instant he stepped through the gate, but he wasn’t about to leave without speaking his piece—without accomplishing his objective. Arlo looked at Shelton right in the eyes, giving a derisive smile. “Why wait for ‘someday?’”
Arlo swiftly reached for his VP9 while Shelton scrambled for his Hi Power.
The crack of the pistol’s shot tore through the silence of the morning, causing the spectators to jump. For the past six weeks, the men and women of Liberty—and her allies—fought valiantly against a merciless aggressor who wanted to take that which the citizens had worked so hard to build—to reap that which others had sown. The resistance had come with a heavy price tag, and for many, the ultimate cost, but it had been worth fighting for—worth dying for.
And with one final gunshot, Barry Shelton ended the war.
Chapter 51
As Clay walked through town, his arm in a sling and a slight limp, he witnessed the trail of destruction left behind from the war. The ruined buildings, destroyed lives, and horrific images would take up permanent residence in his soul.
“How’s the arm?” Shelton asked as he walked up behind Clay.
Clay glanced down at the sling. “All things considered, not too bad. Doctor Sowell said it’s going to be stiff for a good while, but he isn’t expecting any loss of motion—long term at least.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Shelton said. After a moment of silence passed, he added, “Listen, Clay, there are truly no words to express just how indebted we are to you, Megan, Dusty, and Levi.”
Clay looked up at the burned-out clock tower. “It was no problem,” he said, knowing that Shelton wouldn’t buy it for an instant.
Shelton laughed. “Yeah, and if I acted like I believed that, I’m sure you’d be trying to sell me a timeshare on South Padre Island—I hear it’s nice this time of year.”
Clay chuckled, experiencing true relief for the first time in what felt like years. “Well, I guess there were some slight inconveniences, but…” he said, turning to look at Shelton, “it was worth it.”
The old man choked up. “Honestly, Clay, I don’t know what I’ve done in this life to deserve such loyal friends, but there’s not a minute that goes by that I don’t thank God for them.” He stuck his hand out to shake Clay’s. “Thank you…from the bottom of my heart.”
“Like I said,” Clay said as he firmly grasped Shelton’s hand, “it was worth it.”
Wasting no time, the town buzzed with activity as it prepared to endure the rest of winter. Kohler, along with a few others, ha
d already left for the auction house to ensure that no additional attacks would be coming. Though they would remain extra vigilant on security in the months ahead, with Arlo’s body among the stack being prepared for burial, they were not anticipating further conflict.
“It’s going to take a while to pick up the pieces,” Clay commented.
“But at least we’re alive to pick them up.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
They walked into town, veering toward Vlad’s house.
“I know it hardly seems like much after all you guys have done for us, but I want you to know that you, along with everyone back home, will always have a place here. If you were ever so inclined, that is,” Shelton said.
“Thank you, Barry. That means a lot…” Clay said as they passed by a dozen bodies lined up on the ground, “especially in these darker days we live in.”
“I pray those days become few and far between.”
“Me, too,” Clay replied, but his words lacked the same confidence Shelton’s had.
“So, will you guys be heading out tomorrow?” Shelton asked.
“Today, actually.”
Shelton was surprised with the response. After everything they had been through, he had expected them to take another day or two to recover. “I wish I had some horses to offer…”
“I think we’ll manage,” Clay said lightheartedly. The journey ahead would be a cake walk for the now-seasoned veterans.
“Well, if you change your mind, you guys feel free to take as much time as you need.”
“Thanks, but I think we’re all eager to get back home. Plus, I’m sure there are plenty of folks here equally as eager to have their family come back to them,” Clay said, reminding Shelton that they would be the ones to tell the others staying at Northfield that it was now safe to return to Liberty.
“I understand that,” Shelton said, longing for the day that he could see his own family again—a day that would never come.
When they arrived at Vlad’s house, Shelton decided to forego another handshake, and gave Clay a hug. “Safe travels, Clay.”
Clay gave Shelton a nod before running up the porch stairs. As he grabbed the handle to the door, he turned around. “I better get an invite to the anniversary celebrations next year,” Clay said jokingly.
“You’ll be the guest of honor.”
Clay waved off Shelton’s words and walked inside, nearly bumping into Dusty who was on her way out.
“Mr. Shelton,” she called out, causing him to turn around.
“Dusty, my dear,” Shelton said with a genuine smile. “I just want to say again—”
“I’m sorry,” Dusty interrupted him; the guilt had been pestering her.
“Sorry? What on earth could you possibly be sorry for?”
“I lied to you.”
Shelton walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. “You did what was necessary to help end this war, which means you did what was necessary to save lives. And you never need to be sorry for that, even if it means lying to an old man,” he said.
“It just felt wrong—still does. But, I didn’t want to leave without telling you that.”
Shelton rightfully assumed any efforts to minimize her guilt would be met with staunch resistance, so he graciously accepted her apology.
With the burden off her shoulders, Dusty gave Shelton a salute.
Shelton returned the salute before carefully taking his Browning Hi Power out of his holster. “When I thought you were heading home before, I gave you this to help keep you safe. So,” he said, holding the gun by the slide, the handle toward Dusty, “I aim to keep that promise.”
Dusty looked adoringly at the pistol. “She’s a gorgeous gun, and I do appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay. I have my entourage with me to help keep me safe,” she replied with a chuckle.
Shelton’s arm remained unmoved.
With minimal arm twisting, Dusty reached out and took the pistol from Shelton. “Thank you, sir,” she said, stuffing the gun into her waistband.
Realizing he no longer had a use for it, Shelton took the holster off and handed it to Dusty as well. “I want you to know,” he added, “if you ever need anything, we’ll be here for you.”
Dusty, caught up in the rare moment of friendly emotions, grabbed on to Shelton, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a couple of months, Mr. Shelton.”
Dusty walked back inside and Shelton headed home. As he observed the devastation the town had endured over the past two months, particularly yesterday, he knew there was a lot of work ahead of them. But more than ever, Shelton knew that Kohler and the rest of this town were fighters. There was no challenge too mighty for them to take on.
As he walked through the front door of his own home for the first time in many weeks, Shelton headed straight up the stairs to lie in his own bed. With tired eyes, he looked over at a picture of his wife that sat on the bedside table.
Sarah, his beautiful bride, was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes and truly rested for the first time since the ballgame.
Chapter 52
Kelsey stared out the bedroom window watching the snow fall carelessly from the sky. Despite the circumstances, the picturesque scene never got old for her. There was just something so pure about the imagery that she loved—even if she was alone in that thought.
The serene moment was interrupted as the door flew open, with a rambunctious Dakota zooming in. “You never saw me!” she said as she darted for the closet, burrowing her way under a pile of clothes.
Moments later, Madeline walked in. “I know you’re in here, Koty…” Dakota’s muffled giggles had quickly given up her location, but Madeline played dumb. “I swear I saw you run in here,” she said as she walked around the room “searching” for Dakota.
Temporarily suspending her search as she walked up next to Kelsey, she looked out the window. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said to Kelsey.
Kelsey put her arm around Madeline and gave her a hug. “It is...”
Madeline gave her a quick squeeze. “Okay, if I don’t find her soon, she’s going to suffocate under there.”
Kelsey laughed—it was nice to do that again.
After discovering Dakota’s hiding spot, Dakota chased Madeline out of the room, their shrieks and giggles muffled as they ran downstairs.
Returning her focus to the scene outside, her eyes began to tear up as she saw a small group walking through the gate to the farm. Whether her tears were of joy or sorrow could not be determined until she could see who was walking onto the property.
Storming down the stairs, Kelsey didn’t bother to grab her coat as she reached for the door. With her mind focused solely on the figures up ahead, she barely noticed the twenty-degree temperature. Practically jumping off the porch, she ran toward the group.
They were tears of joy.
Kelsey ran full-speed into Clay’s chest, all but tackling him as they fell into the fresh powder on the ground. So overwhelmed with the embrace of his wife, Clay didn’t even flinch from the pain in his shoulder. After a lengthy squeeze, Kelsey kissed him over and over. Having no control over her emotions, her tears flowed heavily as she laughed with joy.
“Get a room,” an unsolicited comment came from Dusty as the other three walked by.
“I missed you too, Dusty,” Kelsey giggled, without breaking eye contact with her husband. She brushed the hair out of her face before bombarding him with more kisses.
Clay tightly wrapped his good arm around her as the snow gently fell on them. He had been dreaming of this moment since the convoy to Northfield blended into the horizon, and it had been far greater than he imagined. Her beautiful, smiling face renewed his spirits as if she was his source of life.
After a long, passionate kiss, Kelsey stared deeply into his blue eyes and said, “Welcome home, my love.”
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52