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

by Hunt, James

  There was only one problem with the plan they had, and everyone knew it. They just didn’t say it out loud.

  Ray couldn’t make the journey to the farm, and if the bikers came back tonight, he wouldn’t survive.

  “I’ll be fine, Anne,” Ray said, responding to the look on her face.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to move you, Ray, but we will.”

  “You leave me a twelve-gauge and a box of shells, and I’ll give anyone who comes through that door a nice surprise.”

  “They still have the cart. If we bring it back, we can wheel him out of here,” Fay said. “Just like we did with Jung’s wife.”

  “Let’s get started,” Anne said.

  Anne had everyone grab a few things. There was the potential of them never coming back, so whatever they didn’t want to lose she told them to bring with them.

  Fay still had her rifle. Anne picked up the pistol that Jung left behind and grabbed a new box of ammo, along with some rations, water, first aid kit, and a few spare articles of clothing. She packed enough for both her and Freddy.

  There was one shotgun left that they handed to Ray with a box of shells. They moved him over to a chair in the living room where he had a better angle at the door and was hidden from the view of the window.

  “We’ll be back, Ray,” Anne said.

  “I’ll be here when you do.”

  Once everything was packed up, Fay led the group through the trees to Ken’s farm. Anne looked back at the cabin as they departed. This was the second time she was forced to leave her home. It was easier this time, leaving, and that sense of detachment worried her. She wasn’t sure if her family would really ever have a home again.

  ***

  Fay was greeted with the barrel of a shotgun sticking in her face when Ken opened the door to their house. It must have been close to midnight by the time they arrived, and the late-night call did nothing to improve Ken’s already less than cordial manner in regards to visitors.

  “What in the hell are you people doing here at this time of night?” Ken asked.

  “We have a reservation,” Fay answered.

  “Don’t get smart with me, woman.”

  Anne pushed her way to the front of the group. From Mike’s description of Ken, she knew what she was walking into. Even with the agreement he had set up with Mike, there wasn’t a guarantee that he’d help them, but he was their last hope.

  “Mr. Murth, my name’s Anne Grant. You spoke with my husband earlier today,” Anne said.

  “What does that have to do with your visit?”

  “I know you’re aware of the biker gang in town?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think they may be on their way to the cabin. I was hoping we would be able to stay with you until my husband comes back.”

  “If your husband went down to face that gang, then he’s as good as dead. And so is our agreement.”

  Ken went to slam the door shut, but Anne grabbed it before it closed. She could only see a sliver of his profile through the crack of the door.

  “The agreement will still be honored. We can help you bring the ammo back here. One of the members in our group has a broken leg. If we can use the cart to bring him back, we can load the rest of the ammo in with him,” Anne said.

  The door neither opened nor closed any further.

  “All of it?” Ken asked.

  “Yes.”

  Anne took her hand off the door. Ken slammed it quickly. The one thing she tried to do to save her family didn’t work. They had nowhere else to go, and without the cart to wheel Ray to safety, there was no telling what kind of fate would befall him.

  When the front door swung open, Anne jumped back as Ken stepped out with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

  “The cart’s around back. I’ll need someone to come with me to help carry it back,” Ken said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Anne said.

  “No, him,” Ken said pointing at Nelson. “I’ll need somebody who can pull the weight we’ll have to deal with.”

  Anne started to protest, but Nelson assured her it was fine. Before he took off, Anne slipped him the revolver. He didn’t say anything when he felt it fall into his hand. He simply nodded and hid the gun in his pants pocket.

  Nelson kissed Katie and Sean and headed off with the cart in tow back toward the cabin.

  ***

  Freddy and Sean shared the couch in the living room, while Anne, Katie, Fay, and Beth sat in the kitchen. Beth grabbed a kettle of tea from the stove and poured them each a cup.

  “We can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Murth,” Katie said.

  “I should thank you. With that ammo we’ll be able to hunt until Ken and I are in the dirt.”

  The steam rose from the cup. Katie put it to her lips and sipped slowly. The warm blast of liquid scorched her tongue and lips.

  “If that isn’t warm enough for you…” Beth said, pulling a flask from her pocket. “This might help.”

  Katie smiled and extended her cup, then winced when she took a sip.

  “That’s… strong,” Katie said.

  Beth poured some in Fay’s, but Anne declined. Beth took a swig straight from the flask and tucked it back into her pocket.

  “Hard day calls for a hard drink,” Beth said.

  “How long have you and Ken been married?” Katie asked.

  “Going on thirty years now.”

  “Nelson and I just hit our fifteenth this past year. Anne, you and Mike have been married for twenty years?”

  “Twenty-five next spring.”

  Katie glanced at Fay who held up her barren left hand.

  “Divorced,” Fay said.

  “I’m sorry,” Katie said.

  “I’m not.”

  Katie glanced around the house. She admired the rustic look of the home. She wasn’t sure if it was a look by design or of purpose. Judging from the look of Beth and her husband, she figured it was the latter.

  Then Katie’s eyes landed on the crucifix hanging high on the wall in the kitchen. It was an old piece, but kept in good condition. The polish of the metal shined and reflected the candlelight.

  “That’s beautiful,” Katie said, pointing to the crucifix.

  “That’s been in my family for five generations,” Beth answered. “It’s always been passed down to the eldest daughter in the family.”

  “Do you have any daughters?” Katie asked.

  “No, just Billy and Joey.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be hard giving it away to one of their wives once they’re married.”

  “No, I won’t be giving it to their wives.”

  “Why?”

  “That crucifix doesn’t just represent the blood of Christ, it has the blood of my family. It’s been with us through wars, droughts, depressions, and no matter what has come our way we’ve always survived. My family has always found a way. It’s never easy pushing through hell, but we did it, and we’ll keep doing it. Some woman from the outside wouldn’t understand that. They wouldn’t appreciate what that pain means.”

  Beth pulled the flask back out and took another swig. Katie thought it was an odd statement to make, but agreed that the pain you went through to push forward couldn’t truly be appreciated unless experienced firsthand.

  There was an exultation that came from conquering that pain, but when Beth spoke, her tone had no hope, no redemption. It was as if the pain was there not to make you stronger, but make you callous.

  “I’ll run and grab you ladies some sheets. I’m sure the boys will be back soon. It’s been a long day,” Beth said.

  Beth pushed her chair back, and it squeaked along the wooden floor boards. Anne reached for her arm before she left, and Beth whipped around to her.

  “Thank you for helping us,” Anne said.

  When Beth was sure she was out of sight from the kitchen she leaned up against the wall. In the dark hallway she felt the guilt wrestling in her conscious. She knew what she had to do, but the conflict r
aging inside her intensified.

  She pounded her fist into the cushioned back of the chair next to her. She punched it over and over again. Each hit, submitting to her guilt.

  She brushed the loose strands of her hair out of her face and regained her composure. She walked to the end of the hall and pulled open a closet. The shelves were lined with blankets, pillows, and sewing supplies. She reached into the corner and pulled out a shotgun.

  Beth made sure the gun was loaded, then tucked the shotgun under the crook of her arm and walked back to the kitchen.

  ***

  Ken didn’t say anything on the way up to the cabin. The only noise the two of them created was the creak of the cart’s wheels as they hauled it through the forest.

  Nelson kept touching the side of his pant leg, feeling the outline of the pistol. He wasn’t sure why Anne had given it to him. Was she worried about what Ken might do? Could he be trusted?

  He shook the notion out of his mind. Of course he could trust Ken. Mike wouldn’t have cooperated with him if he didn’t believe it. He was overthinking. His imagination was getting the better of him.

  Nelson hadn’t done much exploring since he’d been at the cabin, but the times he did go for a walk he couldn’t help but see the beauty around him. Aside from the circumstances that brought him here, he felt like he could be on vacation.

  The forest was different at night. During the day he could see all of the details, the small nests in the trees, the bushels of fresh berries, the squirrels and birds traveling from branch to branch. Everything was so green, lush, and full of life.

  The walk during the night was cooler though. There was a crisp lightness in the air. But in the darkness Nelson couldn’t see the green leaves or the bushes bearing fruit. Everything was lumped together in shadows.

  Nelson felt the cart jerk to a stop, and he stumbled forward a bit. He hadn’t realized they were already at the cabin.

  “C’mon,” Ken said.

  Nelson made sure to let Ray know who it was before he approached the door. He didn’t want to get a belly full of shotgun beads.

  “Ray?” Nelson asked, walking through the front door.

  “You alone?” Ray asked.

  “No, Ken’s with me. We’re here to grab you.”

  Ken pushed his way inside. Ray sat in the dark corner of the living room, aiming the shotgun at the two of them.

  “We load the ammo first, then we grab him,” Ken instructed.

  Ken didn’t wait for permission, or for Nelson, as he made his way to the basement door. Between Nelson and Ken, it only took them twenty minutes to load all of the ammunition into the cart, but Ken insisted on gathering as much of the other supplies as they could.

  Boxes and cases of different caliber rounds weighed the cart down. Nelson couldn’t believe how much Mike was able to stockpile. It was enough bullets to supply a small army. The rest of the space in the cart was occupied by first aid kits, a few tools, and food rations.

  “That’s the last of it,” Nelson said.

  Ken followed Nelson back inside. When Nelson grabbed the shotgun from Ray and threw his arm around his shoulders to steady him, Ken aimed his rifle at the two of them.

  “What are you doing?” Nelson asked.

  “Slide the shotgun over to me,” Ken said.

  “You son of a bitch,” Ray said.

  “No hard feelings, boys, but I couldn’t just let all of these supplies go to waste, not after the bikers finish off the rest of your group.”

  “We don’t even know if they’re dead or not. They could still be alive,” Nelson said.

  “The gang wiped out the whole town. They killed everyone. Your people walked into a meat grinder. They’re not coming back,” Ken said.

  “What about your deal with Mike?” Nelson asked.

  “I was going to kill him tomorrow, but it looks like the bikers saved me some trouble.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “I can.”

  If Ken was going to kill them, then what would happen to Nelson’s family? He just got his wife back, and now he was going to lose her. His son would probably suffer the same fate as him.

  He couldn’t let that happen, not after everything they’d been through, not after they were finally together again.

  “Well, get it over with then,” Ray said.

  Nelson looked down. The shotgun rested at his feet. The butt of the gun faced him and was slightly elevated off the ground. By the time Ken realized what Nelson was thinking, it was too late.

  Nelson kicked the shotgun up and sent it flying toward Ken, who dodged out of the way and fired in their direction, hitting Ray in the shoulder. Nelson pushed both of them to the floor and reached for the revolver in his pocket.

  When Ken got up, Nelson fired a few rounds, missing Ken completely, but it caused Ken to retreat down the hall, looking for cover. It gave Nelson and Ray enough time to crawl and drag their way through the kitchen.

  If Nelson could get to the back door and make it in the woods, then they might have a chance. Nelson gave Ray the pistol.

  “I’ll pull, you shoot,” Nelson said.

  Nelson grabbed Ray by his shoulders and pulled him through the dirt toward the trees. Ken appeared in the doorway, and Ray squeezed a few rounds off.

  The kitchen window’s glass shattered, and Ken shoved his rifle through the opening, firing shots in their direction.

  Nelson gave one last heave and pulled both he and Ray behind a tree, shielding themselves from the barrage of bullets splintering the oak’s trunk.

  Ray kept reaching for his leg, wincing. When Nelson tried to adjust the splint, Ray screamed and smacked his hand away.

  “Sorry,” Nelson said.

  Ray’s breath was labored. Nelson didn’t know what to do. There was no way he could drag Ray through the woods, not in the condition he was in.

  “Just go,” Ray said.

  “What?”

  “I’ll hold him off as long as I can.”

  “Ray, I’m not going to leave you here.”

  “If you don’t go and warn Mike, then his family’s going to die, if they haven’t killed them already.”

  Ray pushed Nelson backward, pointing for him to run. Another spray of bullets peppered the tree behind them.

  “You’re not being a coward for leaving me here, Nelson. This is my choice. Now, go,” Ray said.

  Nelson grabbed Ray’s hand and squeezed tight.

  “Good luck,” Nelson said.

  “You, too.”

  Ray gave Nelson some cover fire as he disappeared deeper into the woods then checked the revolver, seeing how many bullets he had left.

  Two.

  He knew his fate the moment he chose to stay behind. Ken had an unlimited supply of ammo within an arm’s reach, and Ray couldn’t hobble more than a few feet without crashing to the ground. He was a sitting duck.

  “Hey!” Ray shouted.

  The firing ceased. Ray pushed himself off the ground with his good leg, using the tree trunk to help give him leverage. His leg felt like it was going to explode.

  “You go back on your deals that quick?” Ray asked.

  Gunfire blasted the tree again. Ray ducked, trying to shield himself from the ricochet.

  “Guess so,” Ray mumbled.

  After a moment, everything was silent. Ray aimed the pistol at the cabin, switching targets between the door and the kitchen window, but he couldn’t see Ken.

  “Drop it,” Ken said.

  Ray froze. The pistol hit the ground and he put his hands in the air.

  “Where’d he go?” Ken asked.

  Ray said nothing. He wouldn’t let his last breaths in life betray the people who helped him.

  “You think I’m a bad man, don’t you?” Ken asked.

  “I think you’re a coward.”

  Ken laughed.

  “You people. In all of your self-righteous bullshit you think that the act of sacrifice is so noble, that we should all elevate ourselves t
o your level. Well, this is what you get for your noble deeds.”

  The barrel of the gun pressed firmly against Ray’s forehead. It was hot, burning a circle into his skin. Ray didn’t move; whatever pain Ken would put him through he wasn’t going to give him any satisfaction of showing that he was hurting.