by Hunt, James
Both Margaret and Nancy looked at Ben.
“We’re taking him to a hospital?” Margaret asked, hopeful.
“The hospital in Asheville is in flames,” Ben answered. “The nearest one is another thirty miles from here, and we don’t have a working car to get us there. And even if we did, I don’t know what we’d find when we finally arrived.”
“Then you have to help him,” Margaret said, letting go of her husband’s hand as she stood. “You can give him a blood transfusion, right?” She walked to Ben and grabbed his hands with desperation. “Please, save him.”
“Even if I give Harry a transfusion, I don’t have the supplies to care for him,” Ben said. “And we don’t have time for a transfusion.”
“Then we find someone who—"
“Margaret,” Ben shook his head. “There is nothing more we can do for him.”
“Then, where are we going?” Nancy asked. “If we’re not taking him to a hospital, where are we taking him?”
Ben told them about the gunmen and the fires, and how the wind could carry the fires north to their homes. “If we don’t leave now, then we run the risk of getting caught up in the fires. We need to get west across the river.”
“And how are we supposed to get Harry across the river?” Margaret asked, her voice rising into hysterics. “How are we supposed to carry him out of here!” She stomped her foot, her body trembling from anger.
Ben knew this would come. The woman couldn’t accept the reality of her situation.
“My wife helped you not because she had to, but out of generosity,” Ben said, his voice hardening. “She kept your husband alive. Now, unless we find someone with his blood type, there is nothing else we can do. So I suggest you figure out if you want to come with us or stay here.”
Margaret remained quiet and stunned, but it was Nancy who stepped forward.
“If you can show me how to make a gurney, I can do it,” Nancy said.
“I’ll show you,” Liz said.
“No,” Ben said. “I need you, Susan, and the boys to start packing. I’ll show you.”
Nancy nodded.
“Come with me,” Ben said.
Ben left Margaret alone with Harry, while Liz and Nancy followed him back into the living room and into the garage. With the aid of a lantern, they found some tent poles and a tarp that was sturdy enough to hold Harry’s weight, and then Ben showed Nancy the process of attaching the tarp to the poles, and the appropriate knots sturdy enough to hold the weight.
“You want thirty of them spaced evenly along the poles on each side,” Ben said.
Nancy watched and then repeated the steps under Ben’s careful eye. She was slow, and she fumbled the first two attempts, but she completed it on the third.
“Good,” Ben said. “Just fifty-nine more to go.”
Ben left Nancy to work and then rejoined Liz, who had Susan and the boys packing bags. They were only bringing the essentials and no more than they could easily carry. There was no sense in weighing themselves down. It was crucial to travel light. If push came to shove, Ben knew he could provide food from hunting, though he knew the forest fires would have killed a lot of game. But there were still plenty of fish in the river.
“Pack a bag for Kurt,” Ben said, catching Susan’s attention. “I’ll carry it.”
Ben hoped the sign of hope would help ease some of Susan’s worry, and she offered a half-smile and nod before she went back to work.
While everyone was pitching in down in the cellar, Ben headed to the gun safe in their room. He wanted to bring as many weapons and ammunition with them as he could carry.
After seeing the enemy in the city and then in the woods, Ben knew there was no truly safe place anymore. By morning, Ben knew the thin veil of civility would burn along with the woods, and people would do whatever was necessary to survive.
And Ben needed to make sure he could defend his family against those who sought to hurt them.
Loading ammunition into a bag, Ben stopped when he heard the gunfire outside. It was distant but close enough to be cause for concern.
Ben grabbed his rifle and hurried downstairs, where he met Liz at the front door, who was also armed.
“Is it them?” Liz asked. “The terrorists you saw in the city?”
Ben wasn’t sure. It could be them, considering the encounter they had in the woods.
“Ben?” Liz asked.
“Stay in the house,” Ben answered. “Have everyone get ready. I think we might be out of time.”
Ben crept out the door before Liz had a chance to respond, and he kept his rifle up as he walked to the end of the drive.
The gunfire popped louder than before, and Ben realized it was coming from down the road. But why the terrorists would veer away from Bear Ridge and onto a single dirt road in the woods, he had no idea. If their goal was to pile up the casualty rate, then it didn’t make sense for them to leave the more densely populated areas.
But as Ben reached the road and peered through the sight down the narrow dirt path surrounded by woods, he found his answer.
The Percy family was sprinting up the road, firing wildly at the masked gunmen chasing them.
13
“Shoot the bastards!” Lester Percy screamed as he sprinted up the hill with Gray in his arms.
Jane and Donny fired behind them, keeping as much distance between themselves and the masked gunmen as they could. It had been Donny who fired at them first, drawing their attention up the hill and triggering the chase.
Outmatched by the terrorist’s firepower, it was all the Percy clan could do to run. But Jane was a good shot and Donny even better, and it was their accuracy and rage that kept the enemy from creeping too close and killing the lot of them.
Jane was so focused on the enemy behind them that she didn’t realize Lester had stopped running until she had passed him on the street. She frowned and saw what he was staring at.
Ben Riker had emerged from his home. From his expression and attire, the man looked like he had been through hell. But Jane still saw the same expression of contempt toward her family that he had worn his entire life.
“Lester!” Jane shouted, snapping her husband from his daze. “Let’s move!”
But Lester, a man who hated Ben Riker probably more than anyone else in the world, moved toward Jane with his dying boy in his arms. “Ben’s a medic. He can help Gray.”
Jane knew that was true but could and would were two different scenarios, and Jane wasn’t sure how willing Ben Riker would be to treat their son.
But before Jane could make the decision, Lester hurried toward Ben, deciding for both of them.
“He’s hurt,” Lester said, holding up Gray like an offering to a healer in some ancient time. “Please, Ben. Help him.”
Jane watched as Ben studied Gray and then looked Lester in the eye. Ben was armed, and he could have done anything he wanted.
But Ben Riker never ceased to surprise. “Get inside, now!” Ben pushed Lester and Gray toward the house and then stepped into the road as he raised his weapon and fired down the road at the approaching enemy.
Jane, Donny, and Ben held the line of fire, and between the three experienced shooters, they managed to halt the enemy’s advancement up the road, sending them scattering into the woods.
Once they lost line of sight on the enemy, Ben waved everyone toward the house and then sealed everyone inside.
Liz had directed Lester toward the kitchen table, placing Gray on top as Jane and Donny entered. Liz then moved quickly toward her two boys, who were with Susan Johnson.
“Sue, I need you to take Tommy and Connor to their bedrooms,” Liz said, then she looked at her boys. “Listen to what Sue says, okay?”
The boys dutifully nodded, and Susan disappeared down the hall while Jane rushed to her son, gripping his hand while Liz applied pressure to the wound.
“Everything is going to be all right, Gray,” Jane said, but the crack in her voice undermined her confident
tone.
“Ben, he’s losing a lot of blood!” Liz yelled, blood squirting through her fingers as she clamped down on the side of Ben’s neck.
Ben rushed to take over. “Get my kit from the garage. We need to stop the bleeding. I need sutures. Go now!”
Liz sprinted into the garage, passing Nancy, who emerged to check on the commotion. “What’s going on—Gray?”
Nancy rushed to Gray’s side, crying. “Oh my God. What happened!?”
“Larry Quid shot him,” Lester said.
Ben shot Lester a look as he kept his fingers plugged in the hole in Gray’s neck.
“It doesn’t matter what happened,” Jane said. “We just need to get him patched up before those bastards make their way here.”
“Lester, Donny, you two take the rifles and watch the front and back of the house,” Ben said. “If you go up the stairs, you’ll be able to access the balcony attached to the bedroom in the back of the house. It’ll give you a good vantage point. The same goes for the den at the top of the stairs. Open the window, and you’ll have a bird’s eye view of the front of the property. Should give you an edge on who might be coming our way.”
Neither Lester or Donny were accustomed to taking orders, least of all from Ben Riker. But the fact that Ben was attempting to save his son, Lester begrudgingly nodded, and he and his brother hurried up the steps.
“You keep them busy!” Ben yelled. “This is going to take a while to get him stitched up!”
“Will it work?” Jane asked, looking at Ben over her son.
Jane had always been able to read Ben, and it was just as easy to see what he knew before he even tried to speak it aloud: the chances weren’t good. “I don’t know,” Ben said.
Nancy whimpered, remaining at the foot of the table where she covered her mouth.
Liz returned with the requested supplies, and Ben heard the sound of shattered glass echo from upstairs.
“Good thing we were leaving anyway,” Liz said, opening up the small first aid kit to make it easier for Ben to grab the needed materials.
“Leaving?” Jane asked. “Where the hell are you going to go?” Jane never suspected Ben Riker to be a runner, so whatever he thought was heading their way must have been very dangerous.
“No!”
Everyone turned to the front of the house where Margaret Simmons had emerged from her husband’s bedside.
Furious, Margaret couldn’t stop herself from shaking as she stared down Jane. “I want them out of this place! I want them out of here now!”
“You want me out of here; then you’re going to have to move me yourself!” Jane’s response was harsher than she intended, but it was the same kneejerk reaction she would have replied with in any situation.
“Margaret, we don’t have time for this,” Ben said. “Go back with Harry, and we’ll come to get you when this is over. Nancy, you need to finish the stretcher for your father—Nancy!”
Nancy looked from Gray to Ben, her eyes wide as a full moon. She looked nothing more than a little girl, stripped of the small amount of confidence she had displayed earlier. But she nodded and returned to the garage.
Margaret took one step closer toward Jane, but one glance from Jane froze Margaret in her tracks. Jane had no qualms about killer her right here and now, but she knew it wouldn’t help keep Gray alive.
Thankfully, Margaret made no further comments and then retreated to the bedroom to be with her husband.
Jane refocused her attention to Gray and watched Ben work, his fingers steady despite Gray’s convulsing. She held Gray’s hand, offering what support and comfort she could to her only child, and as she watched the blood continue to pump out of her son and splash against the gray floor, she was suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that she could lose him.
Tears filled Jane’s eyes. She had never been a crier. Not even when she was a little girl. Her default reaction had always been anger. Her mother used to tell Jane that she was so mad that it just burned all of the tears out of her.
But the sight of Gray on the kitchen table, the color draining from his face, overwhelmed her.
“You fight it, boy,” Jane said. “You hear me? You fight it until you can’t take it anymore. And then, and only then do you have my permission to give up.”
Gray’s eyes found his mother’s, and the pair locked gazes. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but Ben stopped him.
“Don’t talk, Gray,” Ben said. “Just be still. Don’t exert yourself.”
Jane looked at Ben. “Why are you doing this? Why help us?”
Ben worked quickly. “Whatever anger I have toward you and Lester doesn’t have anything to do with Gray.” He glanced at Jane. “And if those terrorists are coming up here, then having Lester and Donny help fend them off will help protect my family.”
“Fair enough.” Jane squeezed Gray’s hand, and she felt her son reciprocate.
He was holding on. But Jane wasn’t sure if the rest of them would survive the wolves scratching at their door.
14
N ancy fumbled her fingers over the string and the tarp as she continued to work her way down the pole, securing the tarp to it. She had only finished one side and just started the other. She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. She had never been under this kind of pressure before. She didn’t know how to cope, so she distracted herself by working faster than she ever had before.
The flame from the candle she worked by made it difficult to see. It continuously flickered, casting shadows over her fingers, momentarily blinding her from being able to see her work.
The tips of Nancy’s fingers were becoming red and raw from working with the tough string. She wasn’t used to this kind of work. Or any work, really. Her mother had told her that she had needed to get a job so she could appreciate the good life they had at home provided to them by her father.
Nancy had always scoffed at the idea that she had a good life. She had berated her parents over the fact that she felt like a prisoner in their own home, and she held those beliefs until only a few hours ago. But now everything had changed.
All Nancy wanted to do now was return to their stupid little home, with her stupid parents, and wish none of this had ever happened.
A sharp pain ran through Nancy’s hands, and it caused her to stop. She threw the string and tarp down in frustration and rubbed her fingertips.
It was stupid. All of this was stupid. Her mother had been right about her being useless. She wasn’t good at school. She didn’t play any sports. All she’d ever been good at was spending money and getting boys’ attention.
And now, Nancy was thinking about Gray when she knew she should be thinking about her father. But Gray had been the first boy she had actually liked. He was different than the other boys at school. He wasn’t flashy or fake. He never told her things just because they were what he thought she wanted to hear. He had an opinion.
But now Gray’s dad had shot her dad, and she doubted she would be able to see him anymore. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to see him anymore. Everything had changed.
Nancy glanced down at the rest of the job she needed to complete.
This wasn’t just some stupid project she could quit. It wasn’t a test in some class that didn’t matter. If Nancy didn’t finish this, then they wouldn’t be able to carry her dad, and then he couldn’t leave to get help, and then he would die.
Nancy circled that thought for a long time, the significance and meaning of it starting to grow heavier and more real in her mind.
If she didn’t finish this in time, then her father would die.
No second chances. No free pass. This would be on her, and then her father’s death really would be on her hands. She couldn’t let that happen.
Nancy picked up the rope and tarp and then restarted her work. She fell into a steady rhythm, and before she realized it, she was already a quarter of the way through the second pole. She had gotten used to tying the knots, and after having done it so many times, she
was able to work much faster than before. It was nothing but muscle memory at this point.
When Nancy reached the halfway mark, the sound of a gunshot caused her to jump and stop her work. But the gunshots that followed caused her to work faster.
OF ALL THE places Lester Percy believed he would end up today, sitting on the balcony outside of Ben Riker’s bedroom with a rifle in his hand came in dead last. But he supposed that today was a day for a lot of firsts.
Lester kept an eye on the surrounding woods. He hated to admit it, but Ben was right about this being a good vantage point. He could see for a clear fifty yards in any direction, all well within his ability to kill anyone who moved close.
Lester glanced down at the blood on his arms. His thoughts drifted to Gray, who was bleeding out on Ben’s kitchen table.
It pained Lester to ask for help from anyone. But for him to turn to Ben Riker, a man he had hated since the pair were schoolboys growing up in these same hills, that was just about unbearable.
But he wasn’t about to lose his only son.
Lester knew he was a shit daddy. Hell, he learned everything he knew from his own shit daddy. And his shit daddy before him, and his before him. The Percy men had a long history of neglectful fathers, and Lester was no exception. But Lester didn’t beat Gray like his own daddy beat him. By Percy standards, Lester was father of the year.
Lester held strong feelings for his boy. Feelings that he never shared because he was afraid. Even admitting it now made Lester antsy, despite the words only echoing in his mind. He suspected that stemmed from his own daddy’s teachings. Everyone always told him to bury his emotions. But it never stayed buried. It always bubbled up sooner or later.
Anger blinded Lester to whatever consequences followed his actions. His anger had gotten him into more binds than anyone else he knew, including his father.
Lester knew the rumors about his family. Despite living in the middle of the woods, he still heard people talk. And everyone who heard the name Percy associated him with the same phrase: killers.