“What do we do if we see them? Should we sound an alarm?” Anne asked.
“No, we keep quiet. We’ll have some time to prepare after we see them. Maybe an hour if we’re lucky. We have to stay close today, not even go down to the barn. Anne, make sure we eat early and have some quick food ready.”
Jason showed the family where to position themselves, keeping as far as they could from any glass flying if the windows were shattered. He realized that he was taking this fight on alone; Anne and her daughters were the last point of defense.
If they have to shoot, I’ll probably be dead.
He could feel the anger building as he talked with Anne and the girls about how the action would take place. His fears were coming true and the valley’s peace was going to be violated. But the gang could not win. This gang, or one like it, had destroyed Sam and Judy. They would not destroy Anne, Catherine and Sarah. Jason was going to be the destroyer, like he had been on the trail up in the mountains. That was his role now. A deadly coldness came over him as he instructed the girls and their mother.
Chapter 9
The small gang headed out for the farmhouse to the north from where they had seen the smoke. Nate, their leader, decided they should go through the fields, not along the road; that way he figured they would reach the farmhouse from uphill, assuming most of the houses were close to the road. It was not easy going, and they grumbled as they trudged through overgrown fields and pushed through the thick hedgerows. It took the better part of the day. Along the way they stopped to talk about what they would do when they came to the farmhouse. Zack suggested that they wait until the next day, but that meant sleeping in the open and no one liked that idea. In the end they decided to attack at night, when everyone was asleep. From the last field they could see the top of the farmhouse, brightly lit in the late afternoon sun. They moved on to the tree line and stopped. The house was well up from the road, not downhill from where they were positioned, but that did not alter their plans. They could tell the house was inhabited. They stopped in the cover of the trees to wait for the dark.
Catherine was up on the roof keeping lookout, and she saw the figures—four of them—a half mile away, crossing a field. The sight startled her and her stomach tightened with dread. She quickly came down the ladder to tell Jason. He immediately set out the weapons and made sure each one was loaded with extra ammunition close at hand.
“They probably won’t attack until night,” he said. “My guess is that they’re surprised to find the house directly in their path. They were coming through the fields because they expected to attack the house from uphill with more cover.”
“Why do you think they’ll attack? How can you be sure?” Anne asked.
“They’re not approaching openly, are they? They’ve seen the house. They know it’s inhabited, and now they’re hiding, waiting, for what? It doesn’t look friendly to me.”
He went on to explain his strategy. “I’ll take my bow out along with my rifle. The bow is silent and if they fan out to attack, I can get one of them before they know I’m out there. After that it’s all rifle work.” He tried to sound matter of fact, but nothing he said could ease the tension. Everyone stared at him wide-eyed.
“I don’t want you to leave us,” Sarah said after a pause. The others nodded in agreement.
“I’ll be more effective outside where I can attack from their flank. They won’t expect it and it will upset any plans they made.”
“Can’t we just lock our doors and keep them out?” Sarah asked.
“For how long? What if they just wait around for us to come out? What if they shoot at us through the windows? We’d be prisoners in our own home. They might decide to rush the house. They may think they can overwhelm anyone inside. If I stay inside, I may not be able to take everyone out if they rush us.” He finished with the thought uppermost in his mind, “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”
Jason set up a lookout spot in the house on the second floor. His binoculars worked well in low light. He was hoping to pinpoint their location in the woods as they waited for dark.
Catherine took the first watch. She was working hard to be calm and cool. Sarah stuck close to Jason as he moved around the house, checking the doors and windows. He made sure he had a silent exit out of the back door.
Anne took Jason aside, “do you think we’ll be safe here in the house alone?”
“Yes. I’m going to make the fight happen outside, away from the house, where they won’t expect it.”
Something in his voice and the look in his eyes convinced Anne. She nodded. “I’ll go up and take over from Catherine,” she said finally.
Catherine came down the stairs and quietly told Jason that the men were still waiting in the woods to the south of them, beyond the front yard.
“They’re waiting until dark,” he confirmed as everyone gathered around him. “They’ll want to get into position and get to the house before the moon comes up.” There was a quarter moon that night. “No one go near a window. Keep your weapon where I told you to position yourselves.” They all nodded. “We’ll use the oil lamps and act normal, then pretend we’ve gone to sleep. You’ll have to be very quiet and remember, don’t go near the windows, and wait until someone comes in before shooting.”
As night fell, they lit a lamp, tried to eat something, however no one had an appetite, and then finally put out the light. They took their positions as Jason slipped out of the back door. He paused to listen. The night was quiet. His heart raced and his breathing was ragged. He started shaking.
He worked to quell the rising tension inside. He had left Sam and Judy and they had been killed. He was not leaving now. He would face this threat, no running; no leaving. He would defeat them like he had defeated the gang that followed him after he rescued Judy. However, the last time he hadn’t cared about the outcome. Back then there was a nihilistic rage in him to exact revenge for his friends’ killing. There was no rage this night, only a cold fear of what would be lost if he didn’t prevail. In an attempt to calm down, he went over his plan for a surprise attack, his best hope of victory.
Finally calmer, he left the house and worked his way uphill, crawling through the grass to reach the edge of the old orchard stretching towards the forest line. The orchard provided some cover, especially with the knee-high grass that had grown up. Jason figured that the gang would use the orchard as cover to get closer before making a final rush on the house. He scanned the woods with his binoculars. His tension slowly built again as he waited. Down at the creek the night’s stillness was broken by the frogs starting their multi-voiced croaking. A gentle night breeze flowed over the grass where he lay hidden as the cooler air settled in the valley.
The last fight had been in the heat of anger. Tonight everything was colder, more calculated. There was more to fight for now, but the same outcome presented itself: they die or I die.
Be effective, make the shots count. Don’t hold back. He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind. A calculated ferocity was needed this night.
Jason wasn’t sure the bow would be effective, but he held it ready along with his rifle as he waited, keeping still as he had been trained. The hours passed. The house was silent. Finally he saw the men come over the fence at the edge of the woods and fan out into the orchard. They were spreading out in advance of attacking the house. The lead man moved towards Jason using the cover of the trees. The last one in line stopped in front of the house. Jason lost sight of the two in the middle but still could see the first man in line as they fanned out. That’s my first target—with the bow.
They were spread out now, which played into Jason’s hands. If I can take one out without them realizing what’s going on, I’ve got a chance.
He could hear the men calling to each other in whispers. They were going to creep up to the house, separated from each other, making them harder to hit. As they were checking in along their line, Jason drew his bow on the shadow figure nearest him. He coul
d see him well enough to shoot ‘center mass’, in his chest. After the last man checked in, Jason let his arrow fly. The man screamed. Jason’s arrow had found its mark, hitting him in his left chest, but not killing him. He screamed in pain. One of the other men called out in confusion.
The first man yelled, “Help! Ambush!” Then collapsed, coughing and moaning.
Attention turned towards Jason, not the house. They could not see him, but he knew his element of surprise was now gone.
He discarded the bow and took up his rifle. He could barely see the last man in the line. The two in the middle could not be seen at all. The gang was searching in his direction, looking for his position. Jason took aim at the last man in the line, Nate, and fired. The man fell. He could not tell whether or not he was hit or had dropped for cover. The middle two began firing shots in Jason’s direction. He saw the gun flashes out of the corner of his eye as he flattened to the ground behind one of the trees. After the volley, Jason rose and fired off five quick rounds in the direction of the closest flash. A cry indicated that one of his shots had struck its target. The other man shouted and fired at Jason. The shots were now close; the shooter had zeroed in on him. He rolled over and crawled away as bullets flew past the spot he had just abandoned. He could hear their sharp, short whistle as they passed overhead. From a new position he fired off five more rounds at the flashes. This time there was no return fire. When he looked around the tree, he couldn’t see anyone. Finally he caught sight of a shadow throwing itself over the fence and disappearing into the woods beyond.
Was it was over? Jason started towards the fleeing shadow and then caught himself. He could be shot by one of the wounded men. Then he heard Anne call out his name from the house. Stepping behind a tree for shelter, he shouted back, “I’m all right. It’s over. Don’t come out.”
Then he worked his way towards the attackers. The first man he came to was the closest one, shot with the arrow. He was laboring for breath. The arrow had pierced his lung, which was filling with blood. Jason took his pistol and shot him in the head. Then he carefully approached the second one. The man was badly wounded, but still alive. Jason could see him well enough in the light of the moon that had started to come up. He glared at Jason as he gasped for breath.
“How many of you are there?” Jason demanded. “Are you part of a larger group?” He only got glares and raspy breathing back. Jason waited for a few more moments and then shot him in the head. Without remorse, he headed to the third gang member. He was not sure of his position. Crouching, he worked his way forward, moving carefully. The man could be waiting in ambush.
There was a rustling sound ahead and to his right. Jason wheeled, bringing his rifle to bear on the sound when a shot rang out. The bullet tore through the meat of his shoulder, spinning him around and to the ground. Two more shots flew over where his head had been. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder he brought his rifle to bear on the flashes. He fired off five closely spaced rounds and collapsed down tight to the ground. The pain in his shoulder nearly made him cry out. This time there was no return fire. He waited silently for a few minutes. Then he began to crawl towards the direction of the shots.
“Jason, are you all right?” Anne called from the house.
He didn’t answer. Finally he reached the attacker. Jason’s shots had hit him in the abdomen and leg. He was doubled over in pain, the gun lying beside him. Jason slowly stood up and kicked it aside.
“Jason,” Anne called again.
“I’m okay,” he replied, not taking his eyes off of the wounded man. “Stay inside.” Blood started coming from the man’s mouth; he would get no information from him. He just glared at Jason as he shot him in the head.
With his good arm, he collected the guns from the men: two 9mm pistols, a .45 automatic, one AR15, another .223 carbine and one 30-30 Marlin lever action. Now he needed to find the ammunition. That was a prize the fleeing man might dare to return for. Blood was running down his arm, dripping off his hand from his wound. He tried to ignore it and painfully climbed over the fence to hunt for the backpacks which he figured might have ammunition in them. Jason found where the group had come over the fence. From there he walked a zigzag pattern back and forth going further into the tree line until he came to the place where they had waited. As he hoped, four backpacks were lying in the matted undergrowth. He was getting dizzy, but forced himself to continue. He tied the packs together and, dragging them behind him, slowly made his way back to the house.
On entering the house, Jason found the girls and Anne hunkered down in a safe spot, away from windows, all their weapons at ready. They all looked scared.
“What were you doing?” Anne said in a sharp tone. “We’ve been sitting here pretty much scared to death. We don’t know what is going on and what you are doing and then we hear more shots outside…” Her words tumbled out over each other in her frightened state. “You’re hurt!” She suddenly exclaimed and ran to him.
“Oh no,” Sarah cried out. Catherine stared at him wide eyed.
“Fighting for your life is not a pretty thing,” Jason said. “I had things to finish things out there to make sure we were safe.” Anne had her arm around him as he stumbled to a chair. “One of the gang got away. I was going to chase him, but decided it wasn’t a good idea…being night and being injured.” He nodded to the packs on the floor. “I collected the weapons and backpacks. Figured they would have ammunition in them.” The girls recoiled in horror from them.
“I don’t want them anywhere near me,” said Sarah firmly.
“Forget about the packs,” said Anne. We have to look at your shoulder.” She moved to take Jason’s shirt off.
Catherine stood up. “I’ll help,” she said.
Anne nodded. Sarah just stood there wide eyed, afraid to look at his wound. Anne helped Jason into the kitchen. She and Catherine finished removing his shirt. Jason asked for a mirror so he could see the wound. The bullet had gone through the muscle, but had not shattered any bone. He was lucky.
“Sarah, get a lamp lit so we can see the wound,” Anne said. “It has to be cleaned. I can wash around it with soap and water,” she looked at Jason, “but I should probably pour some alcohol or whisky directly in it.”
Jason grimaced, but nodded in agreement. “Give me a clean towel to press on the wound while you get ready. It’ll help to stop the bleeding.”
After cleaning the entrance and exit wound, Anne to Jason, “We have to sew the exit wound at least partially closed. It’s too ragged and open.”
Catherine looked at her, “Will that be all right? There is no anesthesia for the pain.”
“If you do it now, my shoulder is still partially numb. I’m not looking forward to it, but it’s best done quickly.” He smiled wanly.
“I’ll get needle and thread,” Catherine said.
“Get white thread,” Anne responded.
“Sarah, stoke up the fire in the stove and get some water boiling to sterilize the needle and thread,” Anne directed.
“Then keep watch from the window,” Jason added.
“Can I watch from here?” she asked. “I don’t want to go upstairs by myself.”
Anne looked at Jason and he nodded in assent.
With a wash cloth rolled up for him to bite down on, Anne proceeded to sew up as best she could the ragged parts of the exit wound. Catherine helped keep the pieces of flesh in place for sewing. Jason grunted and growled at the pain and Anne kept saying she was sorry. Soon the ordeal was over. Anne tore up a clean sheet for bandages and tied them tightly to Jason’s shoulder.
Finally Jason staggered to the couch with a sigh, his arm in a sling. Anne stared at him with an unfathomable look on her face. The girls were still wide eyed. Anne gave Jason a glass of the whisky she used to clean his wound. He sipped the whisky along with a glass of water.
“We should go through the backpacks. We want to keep anything of value, especially all the ammunition.”
“I don’t want anything in the
m,” Sarah announced. “I don’t want to touch them.”
“I’ll go through them,” Anne said quietly, “But not tonight. They’ll keep until morning.” The tension in the room was still palpable.
“Everyone should drink some water, not just me,” Jason said. “The stress can make you dehydrated.”
“I don’t want to drink. It’ll just make me have to pee. I’m not going outside tonight…or any night from now on,” said Sarah in reference to using the outhouse.
“We can use chamber pots like they did in the 1800s,” replied Jason. “Your mom can pick out the proper bowl or pot.”
“Gross!” exclaimed Sarah, but she condescended to Anne picking out a pot.
“If it’s okay with everyone, I’d like to sleep in the house tonight,” Jason said.
Everyone was fine with that idea. After some discussion about where to sleep the girls voted for all of them to sleep together. Anne, Sarah and Catherine went upstairs to retrieve mattresses and bring them down to the living room. Catherine then checked all the locks on the doors and windows.
Although wounded, Jason was not sure he would get much sleep this night. The fourth man was armed, but he probably didn’t know whether it was one person who ambushed him and his pals or multiple people. While there wasn’t much likelihood he would be back, Jason still felt he should keep watch. As the girls got the mattresses set up, they began to relax and get sleepy.
Catherine asked, “What will you do with the bodies of those men outside?” She had been thinking and digesting things for most of the evening.
“I’ll take care of that by myself in the morning,” replied Jason.
“Will any animals come tonight?” she asked.
“Maybe, but there’s nothing I can do about it tonight.”
“What will you do tomorrow?” she persisted.
After the Fall: Jason's Tale Page 12