Broken Ties: A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World (Broken Lines Book 3)

by Hunt, James

“We have to! She’s going to die if we don’t. I can’t let her die. I won’t let her die!” Jung said.

  “Take it easy, pal,” Sam said.

  Fay had never seen Jung like this before. When they were at the airport together, he was always so calm, so collected. He was always the first to help, to volunteer.

  “Jung, I know what you’re feeling,” Fay said.

  “No, you don’t. None of you have a wife who is dying in the room down the hall!”

  Jung pushed Nelson and Katie aside, who heard him screaming, and then slammed the door to his room shut.

  “Someone needs to keep an eye on him. He’s going to do something reckless,” Sam said.

  “He’ll be fine. He’s not dangerous, and… who are you again?” Fay asked.

  “Sam,” he said, extending his hand.

  “My wife’s bodyguard,” Nelson said, smiling.

  “Hi,” Katie said.

  “Katie, this is Fay. She’s one of the people who are staying here with us,” Nelson said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Katie said, and the two women shook hands.

  “We don’t have a lot of time. The gang’s going to find out where we are. They’ll use Kalen against Mike to make him talk. We need to move,” Fay said.

  “Did your husband leave any weapons when he left?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, I think so,” Anne answered.

  “Sam, what are you doing?” Katie asked.

  “I can help. I might be able to get your family back, but I’ll have to move quickly. Show me where the guns are.”

  Only one rifle was left. Sam grabbed magazines, ammo, holsters, anything that would allow him to bring as much weaponry as possible without slowing him down.

  “You’ve done this kind of thing before?” Anne asked.

  “Before I got into private security, I was part of the Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment for more than ten years.”

  Sam clicked the magazine into the bushmaster and started loading some shotgun shells into the pump action 12-gauge.

  Anne placed her hand on Sam’s arm, and his rhythmic motions ceased. He looked down at her.

  “Thank you for doing this,” Anne said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Anne let go of his arm, and Sam continued getting everything together. He grabbed one of the hunting knives off the table and slid it into his belt. Two 9mm pistols were at his sides, with four backup magazines, and he had a Bushmaster M4 in his hands and the 12-gauge strapped to his back.

  “If I don’t make it back, then that means nobody made it,” Sam said, standing in the doorway.

  “Well, then come back,” Anne said.

  “Katie, Nelson. Tell Sean I said hi,” Sam said.

  “Sam, I can’t thank you enough for bringing Katie here, for keeping her safe. I owe you my life,” Nelson said.

  Nelson shook his hand, and then Sam was gone. He trotted off into the forest, leaving the rest of them at the cabin.

  ***

  Jung paced the room. Both of his kids were awake now from the shouting from earlier. His daughter was sobbing from being tired and scared, and his son tried to comfort her.

  Jenna was still passed out on the bed. She hadn’t moved for hours. She was still breathing, but her body was burning up. He tried giving her more ibuprofen to help bring the fever down, but it wasn’t working.

  He needed to move her now. He wouldn’t get another chance. The only people left here who could try and stop him were Fay and Anne. He knew Nelson wouldn’t be a problem, and Ray’s broken leg put him out of commission.

  Jung knelt down to his children. He kissed them both on the forehead, and he tried to speak as calmly as he could.

  “Daddy needs to get us out of here, okay? Now, I need the two of you to be brave for Mommy. She’s needs our help because she doesn’t feel well,” Jung said.

  “Is Mommy going to be okay, Daddy?” Claire asked.

  His daughter still had some tears streaked down her cheeks. He gently took his thumb and wiped them away.

  “Yes, now when I say it’s safe, I want you to come out and follow me, okay? I love you.”

  When he checked the hallway, Anne and Fay were still in the living room. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but both of their backs were turned to him. He slid out the door and tiptoed to the basement.

  The gun safe was still open. Almost everything was gone. The only thing left was a small revolver at the bottom shelf. Jung picked it up and tried searching through the boxes of ammo. He had to check three different types of boxes before he got the right size that fit in the gun.

  It was a six-shooter, so he took the rest of the bullets and dumped them in his pocket. Before he headed back upstairs, he saw a box of zip ties. He grabbed a handful of them, clicked the hammer back on the pistol, and headed upstairs.

  Jung kept the pistol pointed in front of him. Anne and Fay didn’t see him until he finally spoke.

  “Give me the keys to the Jeep, Anne.”

  “Jung… what are you doing?”

  “I’m saving my family. Where are the keys?”

  Fay started to get up, but Jung swung the pistol at her.

  “Sit down!” he screamed.

  “Jung, don’t do this,” Fay said.

  “I don’t have a choice. Keys, Anne. Now.”

  Nelson came out of the room down the hall again.

  “What is going on out he—”

  Nelson froze when Jung swung the pistol at him.

  “Get in the living room, Nelson,” Jung said.

  Nelson kept his hands in the air, moving slowly down the hall. Jung made him sit down next to Anne at the kitchen table.

  “So what are you going to do now, Jung?” Ray asked, propping himself up from the couch.

  Jung tossed Nelson some zip ties.

  “Tie Ray up, then Fay.”

  Nelson tied Ray’s hands and legs together then fastened Fay to the solid oak table. Once they were secure, Jung tossed one of the zip ties to Anne.

  “Now, tie Nelson up,” Jung said.

  Anne looped the zip tie around Nelson’s wrists, then another one at his ankles.

  “Good. Now, where are the keys?” Jung asked.

  “They’re in my room,” Anne said.

  “Katie’s still in there,” Nelson said.

  “As long as I get the keys, then nobody gets hurt. I just want to get my family out of here. That’s all.”

  Jung walked behind Anne, staying close enough to where he could easily shoot her, but far enough away to make sure she didn’t try anything stupid.

  Katie got out of the bed when Anne entered, but when she saw Jung follow her in with the pistol in his hand she sat back down.

  “Don’t move,” Jung said.

  Anne opened one of the drawers to the dresser and pulled the keys out.

  “Now, you two, help me get Jenna into the Jeep.”

  The two women carried Jenna from her bed down the hallway. Jung gathered his kids and led them down the hallway, making sure they kept their eyes closed as he guided them.

  Anne and Katie propped Jenna up in the passenger seat of the car. They strapped her in and closed the door. Jung put Claire and Jung Jr. in the backseat.

  He marched the two women back into the house. He had Anne zip-tie Katie, then Jung tied Anne’s hands up.

  “Jung, listen to me. You don’t know what you’re doing,” Anne said.

  “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m doing what your husband taught me to do. Keep my family safe.”

  “Not like this, Jung. You’re making a mistake.”

  Jung turned to leave, but before he made it to the door, he stopped, turning back to the people behind him.

  All of them were restrained. These people helped him. Each of their faces looked betrayed.

  “I’m sorry,” Jung said.

  “Coward,” Ray replied.

  Jung looked at the pistol in his hand. It was shaking. He placed it on the windowsill next to the front door bef
ore he left.

  When he got in the Jeep, he cranked the engine to life and told his kids they could open their eyes.

  “Where are we going, Daddy?” Claire asked.

  “To get Mommy some help.”

  Day 13 (the Farm)

  Ken stashed the bullets in one of the kitchen cabinets. Beth was getting lunch ready and yelled for the boys to come inside.

  Billy and Joey came running in from the front yard, chasing after one another and laughing.

  “Enough, you two. Sit down,” Beth said.

  The two boys pulled their chairs out from the kitchen table and sat down. Ken sat at the head of the table while Beth set their plates down.

  “What’d those people say?” Beth asked.

  The soup dribbled down Ken’s chin as he slurped it up. He spoke with his mouth still half-full.

  “They want food,” Ken answered.

  Ken continued to shovel the food into his mouth as he spoke. Joey mimicked his father, taking down big gulps. Billy didn’t eat.

  “They have enough ammo stashed in that cabin to last for years,” Ken said.

  “So they made good on the deal?” Billy asked.

  “Yeah,” Ken replied.

  “I think they’re good people,” Billy said.

  Ken laughed as he brought the bowl to his mouth and downed the last of the soup. When he was done he slammed it on the table.

  “They’re naïve,” Ken said.

  “You think we can take them?” Beth asked.

  Ken shook his head, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

  “No, there’re too many of them right now. The only way we’re going to beat them is to pick them off one at a time. We can use the bikers in town to our advantage. When I take Mike out tomorrow for the hunt I’ll take care of him, then blame the gang. I’ll say they came after us,” Ken said.

  “You can’t do that,” Billy said.

  Ken cocked his head to the side. His son had never spoken to him in that tone before, never questioned him.

  “I’ll do whatever I want, boy,” Ken said.

  “You can’t just go back on your deal like that. It’s not right. They’re good people. They could have killed me when I shot that guy’s wife, but they didn’t. They brought me back here. They kept me alive.”

  “And what do you think I’m doing? You don’t think I’m keeping you alive?”

  Ken rose from the table. He walked over to his son. He glanced down in his soup bowl, still half-full. Billy recoiled into his chair, with his father towering over him.

  “Or maybe you think you’d be better off on your own? Getting your own food, protecting yourself, living out in the woods with no bed, no water, nothing. You think people just get things? That they just happen? No, if you want something in this world, you have to take it. And you have to be strong enough to be able to make sure nobody takes it from you once you have it. If you don’t, then you die. End of story.”

  “Dad, they’re not trying to hurt us. They’re trying to help.”

  Ken looked back at his wife.

  “You see the crap that preacher filled his head with? You see what it’s doing now? It’s made him weak.”

  “I’m not weak,” Billy said.

  Ken slapped his son across the face, sending him out of his chair and onto the floor. Billy crawled away from his father advancing on him.

  “You are weak because you trust people. You can’t trust anybody, you understand? If you do, they’ll take advantage of you. That’s how the world works, boy. Even your God knows it. That’s how he controls you. That’s how he makes sure you stay weak.”

  Ken raised his hand again, and Billy braced himself for another blow. Ken didn’t hit him. He smiled.

  “Hard to believe you’re any son of mine. Finish your lunch. You’ve got work to do.”

  ***

  Joey helped Billy pull the cart through the pasture. They’d walk for a while then dump some of the hay in a pile for the cows and horses to circle around.

  “Why’d you have to go and make Dad so mad earlier?” Joey asked.

  Joey was five years younger than Billy. He’d always looked up to their father in a way that Billy never did. There was always a disconnect between Billy and his dad. Billy was afraid of him. Joey wasn’t.

  “It’s not something I do on purpose, Joe,” Billy said.

  “He gets angry at you a lot.”

  “I know.”

  Both Billy and Joey were homeschooled. The town had a school, but it was small. Their mother made the decision to keep the boys out of public school. It allowed her to teach what she wanted them to learn, and it opened up more time for the boys to help with the farm work.

  “You think Dad will let me go hunting with him tomorrow?” Joey asked.

  “Probably not. There’s too much work to do around here.”

  Billy tossed the last of the hay into the pile and then set the cart down for a break. Joey hopped up into the back of the empty cart, and Billy handed him some of the water he had.

  “I could do it,” Joey said.

  “Do what?”

  “I could kill them.”

  “What?”

  “Those people at the cabin. If I needed to, I could do it. To keep us safe.”

  Billy grabbed the water from Joey’s hand. He placed the other on his younger brother’s shoulder. He knew his brother always wanted to please their father and that the two of them shared a similar frame of mind, but he refused to believe that his brother was the same man as their father.

  “Joey, you don’t mean that.”

  “I do. I could do it. It’s like Dad said—you can’t be weak. And I’m not weak.”

  “There’s a difference between being weak and doing the right thing.”

  Joey shoved Billy’s hands off him and jumped off the edge of the cart.

  “Dad’s right. You are weak. You’re not strong enough to do what needs to be done.”

  Joey started walking back to the barn. Billy tried calling out to him, but Joey ignored him.

  Maybe Joey and his father were right. Maybe he didn’t have what it took to keep his family safe. But what did that mean? Did that mean he would have to change who he was? What he believed in?

  Whatever Billy did now he would have to live with for the rest of his life, and he wasn’t sure if living in what the world was now was even worth it.

  ***

  Ken spread the parts of the rifle along his workbench. He ran the cleaning rags along the creases of the inner workings of the gun.

  It was completely torn apart. Ken oiled the firing pin around the edges of the barrel and placed little drops along any surface where metal grinded together.

  He’d had that rifle for more than ten years. It brought down more deer, boar, and turkeys than any other gun he’d ever owned. That rifle was his prized possession.

  It wasn’t because the rifle was expensive. He purchased it for five hundred dollars. He made a few modifications on it, upgrading to a better scope, switching out the stock for one that fit against his shoulder better, but the dollar amount wasn’t what made the gun so special to him.

  When Ken was out hunting, tracking game, he felt alive. Out of all the things he’d ever done in his life, hunting was what he loved. There wasn’t anything else like it.

  He never understood how people could just sit behind a desk or push paper for a living. He couldn’t grasp the concept of working at a bank or a store. He had to be outside. He had to be in the woods. He had to hunt.

  The first time he went was when he was nine. He remembered his father getting him his first rifle. It was just a little .22-caliber, but when his hands felt the wood and steel and the power it gave him, he was never the same.

  The moment he had his hands on the gun he was out the door and running for the woods. He had to try it out, see how it felt to finally go shooting.

  Ken had been hunting with his father before but was never allowed to actually shoot anything. His father
told him he had to earn that right. Once he did, he would be given his own gun.

  He learned everything he could in those lessons with his father. He watched how he walked through the forest, the way he carried his gun, his alertness, and the way he noticed even the smallest detail.