The Law of Retaliation

by Jon Athan

  Smoke entered the living room from the staircase. He knew about the fire in the master bedroom and he planned on putting it out. However, he also noticed smoke down the hall to his left—the dining room and the den. He ran down the hall, hoping to stop the fire before it could swallow the entire house.

  As Ryan hit him, Owen said, “Fuck... you...”

  He reached down to his stomach and shoved his finger into Ryan's stab wound. He dug his thumb into the deep gash, then he wiggled his finger in the wound. Ryan screamed in pain. He grabbed Owen's shirt with both hands, then he lifted him from the floor. He exerted all of his strength to push Owen's head into the fireplace.

  Owen screamed and convulsed, flailing his limbs every which way as the fire burned his head. He tried to lift his head out of the flames, but Ryan pushed down on his chin and pinned his head to the firewood. The smell of burning hair and flesh meandered through the house. The skin on his neck and cheeks reddened, wrinkled, and peeled. His hair sizzled and crackled as it burned.

  Horrified, Owen screamed, “Oh, God! Stop!”

  Ryan could see the sheer fear in the man's eyes—the universal fear of death. Yet, only one word echoed through his mind: s'mores, s'mores, s'mores. The memories of his slain daughter would not allow him to stop. He pulled the searing fire iron out of the fireplace, then he thrust it into Owen's head with all of the strength he could muster. The fire iron penetrated his chin and exited through the back of his head.

  Ryan fell back on his ass, exhausted. He gazed into the fireplace, watching as the flames swallowed Owen's head. He thought about his daughter, he thought about s'mores, he thought about what could have been.

  Tears streaming down his cheeks, Ryan whispered, “Don't play near the fire, Lucia. Please, be careful. I... I don't want you to... to burn yourself. Be careful, sweetie...”

  He covered his face and cried, saddened by the bittersweet memories. His cries echoed through the house, announcing the fifth death of the night.

  In the den, Vincent watched as Alexa lit the curtains on fire—she didn't seem to notice him. The books on the shelves and the sofa were already set ablaze. He coughed into his arm as the smoke filled his lungs.

  Alexa turned and gasped, surprised. She leaned on the wall next to the burning curtains and aimed the bottle of hairspray at the neo-Nazi, then she ignited the lighter. She was willing to burn him alive in order to finish the plan.

  Vincent said, “Wait. I don't want to hurt you, okay? I'm... I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry about that night two years ago. I'm sorry about tonight. I've been wanting to say that for a long time, but it... it's been so fucked up. It's hard to go against anyone around here. But, I'm telling you now: I'm sorry.”

  Alexa sniffled and shook her head. She sensed the sincerity in the young man's voice, she saw the guilt in his eyes. When she thought about her daughter, she always saw Vincent watching the event from the side—quiet and compliant. He helped Caden kill Lucia and he refused to testify during the court case. She knew those facts very well.

  Alexa turned her back on Vincent and focused on the plan. She sprayed a ball of fire at the curtains in hopes of quickly spreading the flames. She glanced up at the ceiling. The sound of groaning and cracking wood echoed through the house—the fire was spreading across the second floor. She turned and glanced over at the hallway. She could hear Ryan groaning in the living room, but she couldn't stop herself. She had to finish the job. No matter what, she thought, Caden can't escape.

  Vincent walked closer to Alexa and said, “Listen, ma'am, you can still stop this. Get out of here. Let me deal with the fire. I won't tell the police about you or your husband. You have my word.”

  “Your 'word' means nothing to me,” Alexa snapped. “Can your 'word' bring my daughter back? Can your 'word' heal my wounds? Can it... Can it heal my mind? Can you stop me from thinking about that night? Can you stop me from thinking about vengeance?”

  Vincent remained quiet.

  Alexa said, “I thought so.”

  As Alexa hobbled towards the hall, Vincent shouted, “This isn't worth it! Look at this! Look at everyone you killed! I mean, you... you killed a pregnant woman! You're just as bad as Caden!” Alexa turned and glared at the young man, insulted by the comparison. Vincent said, “You can't go around killing people just 'cause something bad happened to you.”

  Something—getting cheated out of a victory was just 'something.' Being burglarized and losing a few possessions was just 'something.' A child's murder was not just 'something.'

  Offended and infuriated, Alexa responded with hostility. Despite the pain from her broken leg, she lunged at Vincent. The pair landed on the floor. The can of hairspray and the lighter bounced away from them. The fire extinguisher rolled until it stopped near Vincent's head.

  Alexa cried as she struck Vincent's face. She pounded his face with the bottom of her clenched fists—hammerfists. Blood leaked from his nose, a cut formed on his lip, and his cheek began to swell. Yet, the youngster did not fight back. At heart, he had been waiting for a suitable punishment to his crimes for two years.

  Alexa couldn't control herself, though. She grabbed the heavy fire extinguisher, then she raised it over her head. She stared down at Vincent, tears trickling from her eyes. Vincent cracked a slight smile and gave a nod of approval, as if to say: do it, I deserve it.

  Alexa said, “I'm sorry.”

  She hit Vincent's face with the bottom of the fire extinguisher—thud. She raised the fire extinguisher over her head, then she repeated the process. A moist crunching sound echoed over the crackling fire with each strike. Blood splattered on her face, neck, and arms. A puddle of blood formed under the young man's head.

  After the tenth strike, she tossed the fire extinguisher aside and stared down at Vincent's mutilated face. His face was pushed into his skull. As a matter of fact, his face wasn't even recognizable. His nose was wiped off his face. His eyes sockets were caved in, crushing his eyeballs in the process. His teeth were removed, floating in a puddle of blood in his mouth. The rest of his face was drenched in dark blood.

  Alexa sniffled and whispered, “I'm so sorry.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Was It Really Worth It?

  With the house burning around her, Alexa stumbled into the living room. She held her hand over her mouth as she violently coughed, choked by the smoke like a cigarette addict. She leaned on the wall and watched as her husband burned the living room curtains with a log of firewood. Her eyes glowed with admiration, amazed by his determination.

  Upon feeling her presence in the room, Ryan turned and glanced over at Alexa. He couldn't help but smile, relieved by her survival. Alexa returned the smile. However, her smile quickly flipped into a frown upon spotting the blood leaking from her husband's stomach. The stab wound worsened during the brawl.

  Alexa glanced over at the fireplace and examined Owen's condition—his charred head still sat in the fireplace. She didn't feel any sympathy for him. She only wished she could have hurt him in order to protect Ryan. She whimpered as she limped towards the center of the living room—weak, injured, and tired.

  She asked, “Are you okay?”

  Ryan approached his wife, struggling to keep the smile on his face as he walked. He wiped the blood and sweat off of her brow. Again, he was relieved to see the blood was not hers.

  Ryan said, “I'm fine. I'll survive. Did you get the rooms in the back?”

  “Yeah. I... I got the 'other one,' too. You know, the shy one.”

  “Okay, alright. That's... That's fine. You did good.”

  Alexa said, “Caden... Have you seen Caden? Did you kill him?”

  “No. He's still in the house, though. I know it. I don't think he climbed out. Let's–”

  A gunshot echoed through the house, the sonorous gunfire roaring over the crackling fire. Ryan staggered forward, falling into Alexa's arms. He was shot in his right shoulder—a through-and-through gunshot wound. Alexa grimaced in pain as her husband's weight placed mor
e pressure on her broken leg. Yet, she didn't let Ryan fall to the floor. The couple kept their footing, fighting through the agony.

  They glanced back at the stairs, shocked.

  Caden stood on the landing at the center of the L-shaped stairs, the revolver shaking in his trembling hand. Unlike the villains in countless movies, who would gloat and reveal their master plans before killing their victims, he didn't waste any time. He took the shot when he saw the opportunity. He had aimed at Ryan's head, but he missed due to his shaky hand. He didn't shoot at Alexa, though. As far as he was concerned, he could kick her broken leg and leave her in the burning house.

  A wasted bullet was a wasted opportunity.

  Eyes welling over with tears, Caden glanced around the room. He grimaced as he stared at his parents. His mother still lay on the living room floor, a blanket draped over her body. His father—a man who was supposed to be untouchable—lay dead in the fireplace.

  Through his gritted teeth, Caden cried, “You killed 'em... You killed them! You ruined my fucking life! You bastards!”

  Blood leaking from his shoulder, Ryan turned around and raised his hands over his head, covering Alexa with his body. He was prepared to use himself as a human shield.

  Caden wagged the gun at the couple and shouted, “Don't fucking move!”

  Ryan responded, “It's over, Caden. Stop this self-pitying bullshit. This was all your fault anyway. If you never... If you never murdered our daughter, none of this would have happened.”

  Caden shook his head and said, “All of this for some little whore...”

  The group glanced up at the ceiling as the sound of cracking wood emerged in the living room. The walls in the second floor were crumbling due to the fire.

  Ryan said, “Put the gun down and accept your fate. You can't escape this place. We won't let that happen. This is where it ends, Caden.”

  Caden responded, “I should have killed you two years ago, you traitor. Fuck you!”

  He screamed as he pulled the trigger—click. The revolver was out of ammunition. Caden stared at the gun, surprised. He counted the gunshots in his head. Did I really shoot 'em all?–he thought.

  Seizing the opportunity, Ryan rushed forward and ran up the stairs. Caden threw the gun at Ryan, missing him by an inch, then he ran up the stairs. He stopped before he could reach the hallway. The corridor was swallowed by flames and smoke—a dead end.

  Ryan grabbed the back of the neo-Nazi's jacket, then he pulled him back. Caden lost his footing and tumbled down the stairs. He grunted and groaned as his tender flesh was pounded by the sharp edges of the stairs. He rolled down to the bottom of the steps, disoriented by the tumble. He shook his head and staggered to his feet.

  One thought ran through his mind: run. To his dismay, the room spun around him. He couldn't tell up from down or left from right.

  Ryan ran down the stairs. He stepped behind the neo-Nazi and wrapped his arm around Caden's neck, then he fell back to the floor—a rear naked chokehold. The chokehold aggravated the gunshot wound on his shoulder, though.

  He glanced around for a weapon, hoping to kill Caden like he killed Jessie. There were no coat hangers in sight, though. His eyes stopped over Natalie's body. He was disgusted by the idea, but he figured it was the ultimate revenge. As he lay under the neo-Nazi, Ryan wrapped his legs around Caden's body, then he released his grip around his neck. Caden was able to catch his breath, but he couldn't escape Ryan's legs.

  Ryan squirmed an inch in reverse. He grabbed the fetus. Before the racist could put up a fight, he wrapped the fetus' umbilical cord around Caden's neck, then he tightened it. He strangled Caden with his unborn sibling's umbilical cord, using the cord as a makeshift garrote. He held his breath and pulled back on the umbilical cord with all of his might.

  Caden kicked and wheezed, struggling to breathe. His eyes bulged from his skull and his lips whitened. He reached for the umbilical cord, but he couldn't get a grip on it.

  Ryan glanced over at Alexa and shouted, “Leave! Hurry!”

  Wide-eyed, Alexa stared down at the pair. She wasn't shocked by her husband's actions, though. She caused the sudden abortion after all. She just couldn't believe his request. The plan was set in stone before it was set in motion. They agreed to kill Caden—together.

  Alexa shook her head and shouted, “I can't! I have to see him die! I have to make sure he dies, Ryan! That was the plan!”

  “Forget the plan!” Ryan barked.

  He wasn't angry, he was just frustrated. The couple had already reconciled. He didn't want them both to die if it wasn't necessary.

  Ryan said, “Go, Alexa. It's okay.” He tugged on the umbilical cord and tightened the homemade garrote. Holding his breath, he said, “I won't... leave... until he dies. I can't leave.”

  Alexa whimpered as she gazed into her husband's eyes. She understood his sacrifice, but she struggled to accept it. She stared down at Caden, disgusted. She wished she could murder him, but she knew she didn't have the energy to kill him. Her vision was blurred, her lungs stung, her head throbbed, and her legs wobbled. She could faint at any moment.

  Caden stared back at Alexa, tears streaming from his sorrowful eyes. He croaked and groaned, but he couldn't say a word. With his eyes, the windows to his wicked soul, he begged for mercy—and it didn't work. He watched as Alexa limped away from them, hobbling towards the center of the living room. His eyes widened as she fell to her knees near Owen's feet. She's going to save me, he thought, she can't deal with the guilt.

  Alexa staggered to her feet. She turned around and limped back to the men. She was clearly tired and injured, but she wasn't ready to leave. Caden's bottom lip quivered as he spotted the feral look in her eyes. That look in her eyes—vicious and vengeful—extinguished all of his hope.

  As she knelt down in front of the men, Alexa sternly said, “This is for Lucia, you bastard.”

  She dug her thumb into Caden's left eye. His eye immediately hemorrhaged and blood streamed down his cheek. She even wiggled her thumb in his eye socket to maximize the pain. She pulled her thumb out, then she thrust her other thumb into his right eye. More blood leaked from his eyeball and stream down to his jaw. His eyelids were painted red with blood, too.

  Caden violently convulsed—kicking, swinging, and twitching due to the insufferable pain. He could barely open his eyes. And, he couldn't see a thing when he opened his eyes. He was blinded by the attack. He couldn't scream, either, due to the strangulation. He could only wait until his death finally arrived.

  Ryan said, “Go, Alexa. Hurry.”

  Alexa stared down at her bloody thumbs, breathing heavily through her nose. She turned and gazed into Ryan's eyes, communicating without saying a word—I love you. Ryan returned the gaze without loosening his grip on the umbilical cord. His eyes said the same. The feelings were mutual.

  Alexa reluctantly stumbled out of the house, coughing and crying. She grimaced in pain as she limped down the porch steps. She hobbled up the slanted driveway, heading to the main road. The fresh air filled her lungs and the cool breeze caressed her moist skin. She felt as if she had just escaped a burning oven.

  She stopped halfway up to the main road and turned around. The lake house was swallowed by the fire. The house illuminated the woods with an orange glow while coughing up more smoke than a room filled with a thousand stoners. The stars and the moon were obscured by the smoke, too. From her vantage point, she could also see into the living room through the windows.

  To her utter surprise, Ryan was still strangling Caden. He didn't break his promise—he couldn't break it. As she watched from afar, the living room ceiling collapsed on them. She couldn't see them, but she was certain the men were crushed by the ceiling and engulfed by the fire. Their mission was accomplished.

  Alexa held her hand over her brow and sobbed. She turned and limped up the driveway. Her mind was flooded with thousands of thoughts. She thought about Lucia, Ryan, Caden, and all of the neo-Nazis; she thought about her lovely life before
Lucia's death; and she thought about justice and vengeance. One question ran through her mind: was it really worth it?

  She reached the main road, dragging her broken leg behind her. She staggered down the side of the road. She tugged on her hair and wept upon hearing the sound of emergency sirens wailing beyond the horizon. The physical and emotional pain were too much for her to bear alone. She collapsed on the side of the road, the sound of sirens increasing with each passing second.

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  Dear Reader,

  Hey! Thanks for reading The Law of Retaliation. This was a little different from my usual. I'd say it was more of a horror/thriller book. It was still an extreme book, though. This book probably has some of my most brutal death scenes. I understand that some of these death scenes might have been a bit offensive. I'm specifically referring to the fetus 'stuff'.' If you were offended by anything in this book, please accept my sincerest apologies. Although I write with an uncompromising attitude, I never plan on offending anyone with my writing.

  The Law of Retaliation was inspired by Jeremy Saulnier's Green Room and the home invasion genre. In fact, I like to think of this as a reverse home invasion story. Ryan and Alexa invade the Clark house, but the tables are quickly turned. The couple soon find themselves trapped in their house. You probably noticed a few similarities to Green Room. Obviously, the main antagonists in this story are a bunch of neo-Nazis. Although it doesn't take place in a club, the secluded environment is also similar. I really enjoyed that film. If you haven't watched it and you liked this book, you should check out Green Room as soon as possible.