by James Hunt
The stench of the spoiled milk was so powerful that the kid vomited right there on the spot, making the mess over his clothes and his shoes even more disgusting.
The entire lunchroom erupted in a mixture of gasps, ewws, and laughter. Mike was convinced he had won.
But the next day, after school at the proverbial bike rack, Mike soon learned that standing up to bullies was different than embarrassing bullies. When you embarrassed them, they only grew madder.
A broken, bloodied nose, a chipped tooth, and a fractured left arm later, and Mike was convinced that the world was stacked against him. He had done what he had been told to do, albeit it wasn’t the most well-executed plan, he had stood up to his bully, and then he had to pay the price.
It wouldn’t be the last fight Mike had gotten into, but it was the last one where he got his ass kicked. He had always been considered a runt. He was the smallest kid among his friends, and that never changed as they grew older. While he got taller, the rest of his friends became exponentially bigger. He just didn’t have the genetics to keep up.
But he managed to keep up in other ways. He wasn’t the strongest or the fastest, but he was smarter than most, and he worked harder than anyone he knew.
It was through his struggles that he learned about true grit and determination. And he knew he would need to tap into every ounce of that same determination and skill here and now before they were blown away.
“Do you have any guns in the house?” Mike asked, looking to Daniel.
Daniel shook his head. “Nothing but construction tools.”
“That’s better than nothing,” Mike said. “We should be able to capitalize on that. Where do you keep most of it?”
“Back bedroom,” Daniel said. “We use it for storage.”
Mike looked at Williams. “You’re the only one with a gun here. Will you be able to hold the front?”
Williams looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown, and Mike noticed the tremble in the man’s hand. “Yeah. I can hold the door.”
The deputy lacked confidence, and Mike needed to be sure. “If you can’t do it, then tell me now and hand over the pistol.”
The challenge helped to harden the deputy. “I can do it.” His hand stopped trembling.
“All right,” Mike said, and then slapped Daniel on the arm. “I’ll follow you back.”
Mike saw Lindsy head upstairs, Carla in tow, and he had to fight back the urge to call after her. They would see each other again. This wasn’t going to be the end of them. Not if he had anything to say about it.
The back room was filled with all kinds of tools, just like Daniel mentioned. Hammers, drills, saws, blades, screwdrivers, and nail guns, which Daniel went to first. “The cord on this thing is pretty long, and it holds a lot of nails.”
“That’s good,” Mike said, glancing around for a weapon of his own. There wasn’t anything left that could be used as a projectile, but he didn’t want to go out there unarmed. He found a pair of hammers, and he filled both hands with them. “That’ll have to work.”
The shouting outside increased, pulling both Daniel and Mike’s attention toward the front where Deputy Williams was holding his ground, at least for the moment.
“Hey,” Daniel said, his voice suddenly nervous. “You ever been in a fight like this kind?”
“A gunfight? No. You?”
Daniel shook his head.
“The only thing you have to remember in any fight, regardless of the weapons used, is that the tool in your hand is only as useful as the tool in your head,” Mike said.
Daniel nodded, his breathing short and quick. “I just can’t believe something like this is happening, you know?”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, well, it isn’t the first time I’ve had to fight something that could kick my ass today.”
Daniel smirked. “Sorry about that.”
“Just make sure you put those muscles to good use,” Mike said. “C’mon.”
The pair of men joined Williams back at the front of the house, Mike sliding up directly next to Williams.
“What’d we miss?” Mike asked.
“They retreated to the cars, and I lost them in the lights,” Williams said.
Mike frowned, squinting outside, the high beams of the vehicles washing out everything. They didn’t want them to see where they were going, and Mike suddenly realized how bad this could turn. “Daniel, how many entrances does this house have on the first floor?”
It took Daniel a moment to go through all of the different entrances, but he finally blurted out a number. “Three.”
“We each need to cover an exit,” Mike said, and then he turned to Williams. “Can you shoot out their lights?”
“I don’t know; it’s pretty far,” Williams said.
“If you don’t think you can do it, then conserve your ammo, but be ready,” Mike said. “Those sharks are already circling the waters.”
Williams nodded, and Mike made it one step toward the back of the house when the first gunshot rang out.
But it came from inside the house.
Mike dove toward the living room, while Williams and Daniel dove into the dining room, emptying the front foyer.
The gunshots missed flesh but peppered the front windows by the door. Glass shattered and then sprinkled over the floor, the tiny shards shining from the car headlights.
“I gave you all a chance!” Torrence shouted, his voice echoing from down the hall. “But you all wanted to do this the hard way.
Mike regrouped by the staircase, his hearing ringing from the gunshots. He found Daniel and Mike across the way. He figured the sheriff came through the back, but that meant the mayor would likely go through the side entrance.
“Daniel!” Mike shouted. “Where’s the other door?”
“West side of the house!”
Mike did a quick check of his location and realized he had landed on the west side of the house. “My lucky day.” He got to his feet and hurried through the living room and down the side of the house. He passed through another hall, the windows to his left giving him a nice view of the woods, but he couldn’t see the mayor anywhere.
The mayor might have been in the house already. It was also possible the mayor didn’t even want to join the assault. He might not be a fighter, but the shotgun the mayor carried didn’t require him to be a good shot. A twelve-gauge had a big enough spray pattern to hit anything so long as the aim was in the general vicinity of the target.
More gunshots echoed through the house as the sheriff and his deputy exchanged gunfire when Mike noticed the side door ahead. It was still closed, which was a good sign, and he adjusted his grip on the two hammers he held.
Mike had never bludgeoned someone to death, but he knew they were in a fight for survival now, and if he lost then both he and Lindsy would pay the price. He had come a long way since his days in the middle school cafeteria with a bottle of curdled two percent milk. He slowed as he neared the door and remained flush to the wall, craning his neck to look outside.
The forest was too dark for him to see anything specific that might be waiting for him, lurking in the woods. He checked the doorknob, giving it a slight twist. It was unlocked. He locked it and then checked outside again, the gunfire still raging in the center of the house.
But because Mike’s ears were still ringing from the gunfire, he didn’t hear the mayor sneaking up behind him until the gun was pressed to the back of his skull.
“Just relax,” the mayor said, nervous. “There isn’t any reason for us to get excited. Put down your weapons and slowly turn around.”
“Okay,” Mike said during a brief lull in the shooting. “Okay, I’m putting them down.”
“Slowly!” the mayor barked when Mike started to bend over.
“Slow, got it, just take it easy.” Mike placed the hammers on the floor, and then slowly stood and spun around just as the mayor had requested. He kept his hands in the air, staring down the end of the shotgun. “I know what
she’s doing.”
“Know what who’s doing?” the mayor asked.
Mike frowned, unsure if the mayor was playing some kind of trick. “The midwife.”
“That old wives tale?” the mayor asked, and he shook his head. “That’s all bullshit. And it’s that kind of bullshit that has driven this town into the dirt.”
Mike, along with Lindsy, had assumed the mayor was being controlled. “You’re telling me that you’re doing this on your own?”
“Of course I am!” the mayor barked. “Do you have any idea how close this town is to being wiped off of the face of the earth? We’re broke. We don’t have any jobs. The people here will die here, and no one will ever know that we existed! I will not allow that to happen, not on my watch.”
Mike couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So, you decide to exploit a young mother?”
“I did what was necessary for the bigger picture,” the mayor answered. “I’m not willing to sacrifice the entire town just so one couple can hang onto a piece of land that they couldn’t have afforded in the first place!”
Mike took a step forward even though the gun was still aimed in his face. “Did you take their child?”
“What? No,” the mayor said.
“Then what were those adoption papers for?” Mike asked.
The mayor’s jaw hung slack. “How did you know about those?”
“Did you kidnap Angela and give her to some other family?” Mike asked.
“No!” The mayor shouted. “The adoption papers were a decoy. I wanted to threaten the Maples into selling the house by giving them hope that their daughter was alive. It would be a trade, but the sheriff advised against it.”
Mike shook his head, disgusted. “You’re despicable.”
The mayor took one step back, his arms rigid as he held the weapon. “Look, I don’t know what happened to the stupid mother’s kid. For all I know, she was the one who went crazy and killed the baby. It’s not my problem. I just decided to take advantage of the situation. Turn something good out of something bad.”
“And you think this is good?” Mike had known some shady politicians in his time, but he couldn’t remember speaking to anybody who had disgusted him this much.
“I think this is necessary,” the mayor said. “And if we can pull something positive out of it? Yeah, sure, I think we could classify this as good.”
Mike stiffened. If the mayor wasn’t under the control of the midwife, then that meant the man would have to possess the kind of grit to pull the trigger of his own volition. And judging by how the mayor had backed up, Mike wasn’t sure if the mayor had what it took to take a life.
“This isn’t going to be a fight you’ll win,” Mike said. “You bring that resort here, and it’s going to be that factory from the eighties all over again.”
“You think those old stories scare me?” the mayor asked.
“Okay, how about this then,” Mike said. “There are four people in this house who know the truth about what’s happening. There isn’t anything you can do to make us not talk. So you know what that means, don’t you?”
Mike studied the mayor’s expression and saw the fear in the man’s eyes.
“Yeah, you’ll have to pull that trigger,” Mike said. “You’ll have to do that to everyone in this house for your plan to come to fruition. But how do you think you’ll be able to cover that up? Do you think outside agencies aren’t going to come looking for some kind of explanation as to why four people and an infant died within one week? All on the same day you’re supposed to submit your final paperwork to a land developer that’s supposed to bring millions of dollars into this community?”
“The sheriff will think of something,” the mayor said, though he didn’t sound confident. “And no one is going to care about the likes of you. Millions of people die every day. And with the level of violence happening all around the country these days, no one is going to blink an eye at a couple of nobodies who died in the middle of nowhere.”
“Maybe,” Mike said. “But maybe I’ve been talking to people on the outside. And maybe those people will start asking questions.”
“Bullshit,” the mayor said, though the look in his eyes betrayed the confident outburst.
“Is that something you’re willing to risk to find out?” Mike asked. “Because all of that money you expect to make from this development deal won’t do you a bit of good when you have to go to jail for murder. Does Colorado still have the death penalty?”
“Shut up!” the mayor barked, placing his finger on the trigger. The safety was off. Mike knew it would only take one squeeze and his life was over. The bullet to the head at point-blank range would be a quick death. But he had no plans of dying today. And he didn’t think the mayor had it in him to pull the trigger.
“Are you ready to get your hands so dirty they’ll never be clean again, Mayor?” Mike asked. “Better hurry, because we do have you outnumbered in the house.”
Mike saw the sweat on the mayor’s face, even in the darkness. The man didn’t know what to do. He was scared and navigating uncharted territory. Mike had dealt with enough evil to recognize a murderer when he saw one. And the mayor didn’t have that kind of evil in him. If he was going to make a move, then he needed to do it quickly before the sheriff or the midwife overpowered them.
The mayor never stood a chance as Mike struck, his movements so quick that they surprised even him as he knocked the shotgun out of the mayor’s hand. But both men lunged for the weapon at the same time, the mayor recovering quickly as he grabbed the gun.
The mayor had no real skill or plan to recover the weapon; his entire approach was to hold onto the shotgun for dear life and to thrash and kick and bite, doing whatever was necessary to regain control. And as wild and crazy as it looked, it was effective.
Mike spent as much time trying to pry the weapon out of the mayor’s hands as he did to block the kicks and elbows that were smacking against his body. But Mike was stronger than the mayor, and even after the riddle of blows over his body, he worked the shotgun free.
Mike punched the mayor in the stomach and then quickly stood. He aimed the weapon at the mayor curled up on the floor, groaning from the blow to his abdomen, and made sure his finger was on the trigger and the safety was still off.
“It’s over, Mayor,” Mike said.
The mayor lay there for a long moment, and then he started to cry. “Please, don’t shoot me. It was the only way I could save the town. I had tried everything else. I had done everything I could, and there was just nothing more to do!”
Mike knew that’s what the mayor believed, but that didn’t excuse him from the consequences of his actions. “I don’t care what you thought you had to do. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.” Mike looked for anything he could use to restrain the mayor and found some duct tape.
“Hold still.” Mike didn’t even have to keep the weapon pointed at the mayor for the man to obey the order, and he bound the mayor’s ankles and wrists, putting one strip over the man’s mouth, looking him in the eye. “You want to live? Then you stay quiet and don’t move. Not that you can do much anyway.”
The mayor mumbled something through the duct tape, but Mike turned his focus to the sheriff, who was still tearing through the house.
Mike thought the best course of action would be to sneak up on the sheriff and disarm the man to prevent any further bloodshed. But because the midwife still possessed the sheriff, Mike wasn’t sure if the man would be able to think on his own. And if push came to shove, Mike wasn’t sure he would be able to pull the trigger either. Because while he wasn’t a coward, he was confident that he wasn’t a killer.
21
The moment the shooting started downstairs, it was hard for Lindsy to concentrate. And as it grew in frequency and intensity, Carla began to tremble and lose control. She stopped halfway up the stairs as they neared the third floor where the nursery had been kept.
“I can’t,” Carla said, shaking her
head as she pressed herself flush against the wall. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Lindsy, but I just can’t.”
Another round of gunshots thundered as Lindsy turned around to help the young woman. She touched her arm, but Carla pulled it out of reach.
“This isn’t something I can handle,” Carla said. “I thought I could do anything, but this—” She shut her eyes hard and clenched her jaw. “This is too much.”
Lindsy knew there might have been a better approach to the situation, but she knew she didn’t have that kind of time to waste. “I thought you said you wanted your daughter?”
Carla’s eyes watered. The words stung her, Lindsy knew they would, but they weren’t going to get a second chance.
“Of course I do,” Carla said, both crying and trembling now. “But, I can’t… move.”
The shouts and sounds of gunshots down below was enough to cause Lindsy to want to sprint away from this place as fast as she possibly could as well. It was natural to want to get away from danger.
“Be stronger than me,” Lindsy said, extending her hand to Carla.
“What?” Carla asked, confused.
“Be stronger than I was after my miscarriages,” Lindsy said. “Don’t hide. Don’t run. Do what I couldn’t do and face your fears! Because I can tell you once you start running, Carla, you won’t ever stop. And this moment, what you decide right now, will either give you comfort through the rest of your days or haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life.”
Carla remained flush up against the wall, and Lindsy saw Carla’s mind working the problem behind those frightened eyes. She knew that as a mother, she would never forgive herself for giving up.
“What’s it going to be?” Lindsy asked, her hand still extended.
Carla glanced back down the flight of stairs one last time, and even though she was still trembling when she pushed herself off the wall, she reached for Lindsy’s hand and followed her up the last flight of stairs.
On the third floor, Lindsy quickly looked at the remaining rooms, trying to find out which one of the three rooms the midwife used as her nursery.