Times What They Are

by D. L. Barnhart

  Ray jogged awkwardly across the porch. Brittany fired on the east side of the house. Karla blasted out the front windows. Half a brick fell from the chimney. Karla looked up. A sniper fired from the roof. Another hunk of brick tore loose from Brittany’s shot. Ray went down, ten feet short of the bike. Karla hit the man on the roof, then missed as he slid over the roof ridge.

  She dashed for Ray. One, two, hit the dirt. Fire at the house. Fire at the house. Crawl, fire crawl. A bullet hit Ray’s boot, another tore the rifle from her hands. She hit the ground, tugged Ray and pulled him behind the truck.

  Bullets ripped through sheet metal and shattered the remaining glass. Karla hunkered behind the front of the truck, the engine between them and the house. A necessary sacrifice. She waited a full minute for the firing to stop, then reached inside for the Mini-14, a towel, and duct tape, then the night vision goggles.

  The bullet had struck Ray just left of his shoulder and gone through, leaving a gaping hole. Karla made thick bandages. Ray held them feebly while Karla taped them tight, adding several wraps around his trunk.

  “This is dumber than shit!” Karla hissed. “We’re pinned behind a truck we just filled with gas and has seven more full jugs in the back. When they go up, we’ll be lit like a Hollywood stage . . . if your arsenal going off doesn’t kill us outright.”

  “You could have stayed put.”

  “You’re not leaving me stuck with Brittany. Noooooo. Not going to happen.”

  “It’ll be light in an hour. You better figure your way out. I won’t make it ten feet. There’s a man over there that’s pretty good.”

  “On the roof. I think I hit him.”

  “Get me a rifle from the truck. I’ll cover your retreat.”

  Karla handed Ray the Mini. She crawled under the truck toward the Honda. Ray leaned around the truck and fired at the roof. Return fire hit the hood and fender. Karla undid the bungee and retrieved Ray’s AR-15.

  “If you stay hid, they won’t shoot,” Karla said. “You can’t steady that rifle enough to hit yourself.”

  “When you going?”

  She tucked the handheld under her coat and whispered. “Move right. Get the guy on the roof.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “You’re no use. She’s all we got.”

  “She’s thirteen.”

  “You trained her.”

  Silence. Karla looked to where she had to go. It seemed brighter already. She took the Mini and one spare clip. “I’m pushing off. Keep me alive, would you?”

  Karla crawled straight back from the truck, twenty feet and waited. Agonizing time, of which there was little before she’d be in plain sight. A hundred feet, five seconds. A bullet punched into the roof across the street. Karla ran. Ray opened fire.

  One, two, three. The bullet whizzed behind her. Four. She dove and rolled and scrambled behind the church. She ran, the church between her and the house, though bushes, into a yard, out front, down a street, then a three quarter mile jog to the truck. She told Brittany to meet her there.

  * * *

  Karla drove south, out of the hills.

  “Where’s Ray?” Brittany asked.

  “Hurt bad.” Karla turned onto a paved road, then passed the turn to the church.

  “He wouldn’t leave you.”

  Karla drove.

  “He wouldn’t!”

  Karla turned two streets down and parked behind a brick ranch. “Stay here till I call.” Karla took one grenade and the Mini and stepped out. The sun touched the hills to the east. “Hell I don’t want to die here.” She ran north and heard Brittany’s footfalls behind her.

  They approached the house from the west. Karla stopped a hundred yards out and scanned from beside an elm tree. The man on the roof had vanished. Karla didn’t like that. She hoped he’d gone into the house to tend his wound. She took the M24 from Brittany.

  “Were going to scare the shit out of them, then kill them.”

  Brittany stared. Karla fired through the side wall, moving front to back in small increments. Ray picked up the cue and shot at the front. Karla handed the rifle to Brittany and picked up the Mini. “It shoots through walls, keep it up.”

  Karla sprinted through two yards then lobbed a grenade through a shattered window. The explosion rocked the ground and spewed glass and wood. Karla vaulted into the destroyed living room before the smoke settled.

  One dead. Seconds later a man started through a doorway. Karla shot him. She waited, heard a man call from the other side. She snaked into the dining room. A man popped up for a peek out the kitchen window. He turned to Karla and looked astonished as she killed him.

  Karla worked through the house. She didn’t see a wounded man with a scoped rifle. She opened a door, surprised to find a cellar. She yelled down, “C’mon up, no weapons. Ten seconds or I drop another grenade.”

  “We can’t,” a young man’s voice. “We’re locked in.”

  Karla scanned for a grenade substitute. She tossed down a decorative ceramic bottle. Screams from several voices. “Is anyone else down there? The truth is your only chance.” A chorus of wailed no’s. She’d found the captives.

  Shooting erupted from out front: Ray.

  “Hold on. We’ll get to you.” Karla peeked out the window. A man ran from the garage into the back yard. Karla tore down the hall. From a bedroom window she saw the man spin and fall twenty feet away. He reflexively grasped his rifle. He jerked as Brittany shot him again.

  Chapter 82

  Karla descended the stairs. The windows had been blocked and it was dark as the cave. She held the rifle ready and scanned the room with a flashlight. Three men and a girl in a metal mesh cage.

  “Clear.”

  Brittany acknowledged but remained at the top of the stairs. Karla lit a kerosene lamp hung on a chain from a cross beam. The girl was a teenager, terrified, naked but for a torn T-shirt.

  “What’s the story?” Karla asked.

  The girl pointed to a man on the other side of the cage. He had long black hair and dark eyes, scabs where scratches ran to his beard. He grinned at Karla. She shot him.

  “Anyone else hurt you?”

  The girl shook her head. Stringy hair the color of wheat swept muscled arms. A farm girl, Karla bet.

  Karla pointed at another man, soft, with still a bit of belly, short hair and a new beard. “Give her your shirt.”

  * * *

  The three survivors sat in front of the church, their hands duct taped. Jeff and Grace stood tethered to columns on either side of the door. Brittany moved between trucks, transferring as much of Ray’s gear as would fit.

  “I don’t know any of you and have no tolerance for risk,” Karla said.

  “He’s my brother.” The girl pointed to a skinny boy with no shirt and a battered face.

  The other man had blue eyes and a sharp nose. He was shirtless, too, thanks to Karla. “You don’t kill me someone else will.”

  “What about those two?” Karla asked.

  “Kill ’em,” the man said. “Do the world a favor.”

  The boy and girl nodded. The two kids harder than they appeared.

  “Jeff,” Karla called out. “You know why we’re fixing to kill you?”

  “’Cause we tried to sell you.”

  “Any reason we shouldn’t?”

  He swallowed. “No ma’am.”

  “You proud of your part?”

  “I did as best I could.”

  “Why?”

  “Stephanie said they’d kill us.” He shrugged. “Guess I should’ve run.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He shook his head and sucked his lip. “Where was it going to be any different?”

  “You ever see him?” Karla asked the girl.

  “He brought food sometimes.”

  “You hate me, Jeff?”

  “Y’all’s doin’ what you need to, just like us.”

>   “Well, who wants the honors?”

  The man raised his bound hands. That was a no go. That left her or Brittany. Ray was in no shape. Karla raised the rifle. The boy put up his hand.

  “You know how to use a gun?”

  “Yes’m.”

  She cut him loose, emptied a 9mm, put two rounds in the clip, and handed it to him. “We don’t have bullets to waste. I’d advise being especially careful where you point that thing.”

  The boy inserted the clip and racked the slide, then he stepped closer. Karla and Brittany followed his movements with their rifles.

  “Don’t I get a last word?” Grace asked.

  “You’re old enough to know better,” Karla said. “Shoot her first.”

  The boy stood off five feet and shot Grace in the head. She slumped to the ground tied to the pole.

  Karla walked to Jeff. “You got anything left to say?”

  “I’m sorry. The whole world’s turned sour and me with it.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen in July.”

  Karla shook her head and cut his bonds. “You going to give me cause to regret this?”

  “Ma’am.” Jeff looked down at Grace. “It’ll be kinder to just do me, than leave it for them.”

  “You may get your wish before we’re done.”

  Karla took the pistol from the boy then cut the girl loose. “We’re leaving. Your choice what happens.”

  The girl clutched her brother, not as tall as her. “We’ll go with you.”

  “I’m not running a nursery school.”

  “We made it a year, till we got to this place.”

  “Why would you want to hook up with a half dead man, a girl who barely speaks, and your mother?”

  “You whooped their asses,” the girl said. “Like some kind of superhero.”

  Karla laughed. “We spend most of our time lately being shot at. I doubt you’ll live a day with us.”

  “There’s worse things,” she said.

  “Can you drive?”

  “Yeah, but he’s better.”

  “Help get Ray into the truck and climb in. We’ll find you transportation.”

  “What about him?” The boy turned to the man still on the walk. “He didn’t bother Rainy.”

  Karla flicked open a pocket knife. “Minding your own business used to be a good thing. Maybe it still is in a cage. I’ve got no time to sort that out today. You’re free to move on to wherever you were headed. But please wait until we’re out of sight before any sudden moves.”

  She cut the duct tape and the five piled into the truck.

  “Leave me a rifle, down the street a ways. There’s no game I can catch with my bare hands,” the man said.

  “I’ll think about it. “I’ve a couple things to do before we leave town.”

  Karla shut the door and drove to the car dealer. She filled a used Camry with gas and got it started. “We’ll talk up the road. Right now, we need to get out of here.”

  “A truck,” Brittany said.

  Karla motioned everyone down as a diesel pickup approached the crossroads and stopped. It was a big Ram with a four-wheeler in the bed. Jeff was at the wheel. He scanned the compass then said something to a man in shadow beside him before rolling west.

  Chapter 83

  The road ran straight for two miles over slow-rolling ground. A black dot showed in the mirror as Karla’s truck crested a rise. Brittany lifted the binoculars and leaned out the passenger window.

  “Pickup,” Brittany reported.

  “Alone?”

  “So far.”

  “No use pretending they don’t see us.” Karla watched for a turnoff and saw a promising county road. She swung onto the gravel and as quickly pulled off road into rugged hills, the Toyota following as far as it could. Karla told the kids to stay put, then she and Brittany scurried up a hillock facing the road.

  Karla watched the dust settle and the pickup make the turn. Through the scope she saw the Ram from Craig.

  “Jeff.”

  Brittany nodded.

  “Guess we can see what he wants.” Karla didn’t have to tell Brittany to keep the rifle on them.

  Jeff stopped in the road below them and stepped out. The man from the cage climbed out the other door.

  “You got something in mind?” Karla called down to Jeff.

  “Mr. Lamar says he’d lay his money on tagging with you.”

  “Bad choices are what put him in the cage.”

  “I’ve never been farther than Steamboat Springs, and that’s the direction the men come from.”

  “What are you asking?”

  “To travel with you.”

  “That means doing things my way.”

  “Okay with me,” Jeff said.

  “How about you, Mr. Lamar?”

  “You were three. Add us, it makes seven. A lot better odds on the road.”

  “I can count, Mr. Lamar. Can you live with my rules?”

  “When I can’t, I’ll tell you.”

  “You got fuel in that vehicle?”

  Jeff nodded. “Plus a spare can and a rifle.”

  Karla frowned. “If I asked for that rifle, would you hand it over?”

  Jeff pursed his lips and pulled out the rifle, holding it by the barrel. “I’d like it back if we part ways.”

  Karla stepped down and looked the vehicle over. “This the elk truck?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Put the rifle in the four-wheeler’s scabbard. That’ll be close enough if it’s needed.”

  “Mr. Lamar, what did you do, before?”

  “Taught. High school history.”

  Karla started for the truck. “Not much use now.”

  “There’s another one coming.” Brittany pointed west.

  “Get the truck off the road,” Karla said. “And keep the dust down.”

  Karla lay on the hill with binoculars. Three vehicles rolled down a county road toward the highway a half a mile to the south. They sat for a second in the intersection, then turned north—a Humvee and two SUVs.

  Karla slid behind the hill. She heard footsteps and turned to see Jeff slip in beside Brittany. The vehicles flashed past between mounds.

  “That’s them,” Jeff said. “The black bird on the door.”

  Karla let the sound of the vehicles fade before she stood. “Let’s go. We need to haul ass.”

  * * *

  Karla led, alarmed at the dust cloud thrown by the three vehicles. They hit blacktop joining Route 70 east of Bagg, Wyoming, and skirted the border following the Little Snake River through a long valley, then into the mountains. Karla stopped on a sweeping bend near a ridge top. She sent Brittany and the kids along, telling Jeff to wait. She scrambled up a cut, Lamar trailing her. She took in the view from atop a slab of granite, then Karla lay flat on the rock and sighted across the switchback she guessed at over a thousand meters.

  “You think . . .”

  “Let me concentrate.” Karla said.

  “There,” he whispered, as one vehicle after the other rounded a more distant corner and disappeared. “Shit.” He started down, then stopped when Karla didn’t follow.

  She laid the spare clips beside the rifle and worked the bolt.

  “You’re not . . .”

  “Shut up.”

  The convoy progressed closer, the Humvee still in front as it reached the final switchback. Straight on, Karla fired three rounds aimed for its engine. She reloaded and hit each SUV in succession. The first SUV veered into the rock cliff. It rebounded to the road and was passed by the trailing vehicle, steam flowing from its engine. Karla rolled off the rock and flew down the scree to the truck.

  “Go!” She yelled to Jeff and hopped in the bed. The truck was already moving when Lamar caught hold of the door.

  Karla wedged in against the four-wheeler. She reloaded her clips then sighted over the tailgate. The truck leaned heavily
left, then right. The Humvee appeared, well back, apparently undamaged. It disappeared around a corner, then emerged with a burst of automatic fire from a man leaning out the window. Bullets slammed into the truck bed and the four-wheeler behind her. She hit the Humvee’s windshield and a front tire. The vehicle swerved but continued on the run-flats.

  The road snaked along the ridge—the Humvee popping in and out of sight. Karla fired at every opportunity, no time for close aim. They entered another sweeping curve. Bullets smacked the pavement and again hit the Ram. Karla aimed at the shooter. The back of her truck hopped and swayed. A tire flew off the rim, and the truck swerved into the guardrail, bouncing Karla off the sidewall. She righted herself and fired as the Humvee vanished into a curve.

  Jeff stomped the accelerator. The tireless metal wheel rim spun wildly, throwing sparks. The truck slowed to a crawl up the grade.

  “Put it in four wheel!” Karla shouted as she shoved home a fresh clip and sought better cover.

  The truck lurched as it regained traction. Karla hit the tailgate off balance and spilled to the road. She rolled once, jumped the guardrail, and crouched on the embankment behind it with the rifle.

  The Humvee roared around the corner, way too close. Bullets tore into the Ram’s tailgate and struck the cab. Karla shot the man with the rifle then the driver. The Humvee left the road, took a hard blow from a tree, and stopped at an angle, passenger side down.

  A man leaped from the back seat. He fired at the Ram, cresting the hill, failing to notice Karla a hundred yards away. She put a bullet through his head, then ducked below road level and ran.

  Automatic fire ripped through the guardrail above her. Karla sought distance and hoped with three down that the survivor would be hesitant to advance. She crossed a hundred yards of open ground into trees. She remained on the low side of the road and jogged another hundred. She caught her breath and snatched a peek behind her. She saw no one and took off again.

  A bullet struck a sapling then smacked Karla’s back. She went down with a thud. Another bullet screamed past her head. She flipped to her right and slid downhill behind a large pine. A bullet pegged the tree. The next skinned the bark. He had her. She couldn’t see him. A bullet tore the ground at her feet. He had shifted left. She couldn’t guess where he’d go next or how close he was.