by Chris Pike
Dillon’s shoulders dropped. He had played right into that. He had no retort. That bull-headed streak she had in the courtroom where she diminished lesser attorneys to shivering wads of Jell-O would serve her well in this new and dangerous world.
Shit.
He knew Holly was right and it was her decision to allow Chandler to come with them. But another girl? Dillon wasn’t so sure about this. Chandler knew how to take care of himself, and quite frankly, they needed another gun hand if anything went down. He wasn’t ready to be responsible for another person, especially one he didn’t know. Dillon was about to lay out the reasons they couldn’t take her when the girl’s grandfather spoke first.
“Please,” Jack said. “You have to take her. Anybody who finds this house will more than likely kill her. She wouldn’t stand a chance. Not a young woman alone. I know my sister would take her in at her ranch near Austin. Amanda can go there if someone can take her.” Jack looked at Dillon and Chandler, waiting for their reactions. “I can’t offer you any money, but I do have some ammo you might need. Take it all, please. I won’t need it anymore. It’s in my bedroom upstairs.”
“What kind of ammo?” Chandler asked.
“Lots of 9 mm.”
“Jack,” Chandler said, deciding, “I’ll look after her. You have my word on that.”
“Thank you,” the old man said.
“Jack, if we do allow her to come with us, what are you going to do?” Holly asked.
“Die,” Jack said with the same emotion as if he said he was going to do dishes. He took off his bifocals and rubbed a rheumy eye. His little dog jumped in his lap and leaned into the old man. Jack stroked all along his dog’s ruff to comfort him. “Die is all there is left for me to do. I’ve been trying to hide how sick I’ve been from Amanda. I didn’t want her to see me like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Holly said.
“Please say you’ll take her, Holly. Your dad would have taken her in if I asked. And my dog too. His name is Nipper. He doesn’t eat much.”
Dillon groaned silently to himself. Now the old man was laying on the guilt.
Holly reached over to Jack and put a hand on his arm. Their eyes met and Holly communicated with a silent nod. Dillon and Chandler cast wary glances at each other during the sad moment. It was as quiet in the house as if they were in church bowing their heads during a silent prayer.
The silence was shattered by the crack of a rifle.
A round blew a hole through a window, slammed into Jack’s forehead, and obliterated the back of his head on exit. Brain matter and bone fragments splattered onto the wall behind him. The glass he was holding rocketed out of his hand and shattered onto the fireplace hearth. Jack’s lifeless body fell to the floor with a sickening thud.
Nipper bolted to the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
“Get down!” Dillon shouted.
A volley of bullets peppered the walls.
Holly dropped to the floor and scrambled under the heavy table where she curled into a little ball.
Diving to the floor, Dillon let out a grunt when a bullet nicked the top part of his ear. A minor blood vessel opened and dripped blood on his collar. Rolling over onto his back, he held his AK across his chest and scooted to a corner of the room. He leaned his back against a wall and lifted his AK to a firing positing, aiming it squarely at the front door, ready to blast anyone coming through the entrance.
Chandler had already hit the floor and scurried for cover next to the large mahogany buffet table. He readied his semi-automatic sniper rifle, and made sure his Glock was in its holster. A backup gun was always a good thing.
A round blasted the mirror above Chandler, raining broken shards of glass down on him.
“Don’t move from there,” Dillon said.
“Don’t plan to,” Chandler said. “They’re trying to flush us out into the open.”
“The light,” Dillon whispered. He glanced at the lantern sitting atop a coffee table. “We’re sitting ducks with that on. Can anyone knock that off the table?”
“I can get to it,” Holly said. She huddled under the heavy table made out of the same dark wood as the buffet.
“Don’t get up,” Dillon ordered. “Stay down.”
Holly brought her knees up and crouched on all fours.
“Dammit! Stay down.”
Holly ignored him, shifting from her stomach to her back. She grabbed hold of the heavy table legs, bent her legs at the knees, then pushed out with all her strength. A chair went flying across the wood floor. It bumped the coffee table, which caused the lamp to teeter.
For a long second the lamp wobbled from side to side.
Holly held her breath waiting for it to fall over, fearful the lamp might stay upright. Moments that seemed like hours passed, and the lamp toppled over and fell to the floor and clattered about. It rolled in Holly’s direction, a smidgen out of reach of her legs. Slouching down, Chandler stuck out his leg and shoved it to her. Holly grabbed it and turned it off, sending the room into pitch blackness.
For a few tense minutes, they stayed still, letting their eyes slowly adjust to the dim light.
It was quiet until a round blew through the lock on the front door, shattering the door and the lock.
Holly flinched and covered her head with her hands.
Chandler sat motionless, peering through the sight on his rifle, the door in its crosshairs.
Dillon scanned each window cursing that the curtains were open.
“Who do you think is desperate enough to be out in this storm?” Holly whispered.
“Don’t know,” Chandler said, “unless one of those guys we rolled into the river miraculously lived.”
“Not a chance,” Dillon said.
The wind’s fury lessened, as did the thunder and lightning until only the sound of rain dripping off the roof and into the gutters remained.
Dillon rose from his crouching position. “I’m going to check on—”
The shrill scream of a terrified woman, so viscerally frightened, rent the silence of the house and made the hairs on Dillon’s neck stand up.
The next sound of a single gunshot and a body hitting the floor was even more terrifying.
Dillon and Chandler charged down the hallway. They bolted to Amanda’s bedroom where the scream had emanated from.
What they saw took both of them by surprise.
Chapter 18
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” Dillon said, afraid the panic stricken girl would shoot him by accident. “Put the gun down, Amanda. Everything is okay.”
Despite Dillon’s calming voice, Amanda was becoming more agitated by the second. She was hyperventilating and her wild eyes darted around. When Dillon asked her again to put the gun down, she didn’t respond.
A large man lay face down across Amanda’s legs. His arms were splayed out in front of him and a crimson stain appeared on the floor.
Dillon kicked the AK 47 away from the man.
Her eyes darted from the man to Dillon then back again. She was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out straight in front of her, pinned by the man she had shot. She clasped a Glock in her shaking hands.
Holly appeared then, standing to the side in stunned silence. Dillon cautiously approached Amanda, telling her everything would be okay. “Just give me the gun,” he said in a soothing voice, as if he was her father. Reaching for the gun, he gently pried it from her hands, handing it to Holly for safekeeping.
Amanda had a blank stare on her face, as if she didn’t understand a word he was saying. Her eyes dropped to the man lying across her legs. She tensed her shoulders and her eyes grew big, her whole body trembling.
“Get him off of me.” She tried to wiggle her legs out from under the man but he was too heavy. “Get him off of me!” she screamed.
Dillon put his index and middle finger to the man’s neck, checking for a pulse, and when he didn’t find any he said, “Chandler, help me move this guy off of
her.”
“Is he dead?” Amanda asked.
“Yes,” Dillon said.
Dillon took hold of the man’s arms while Chandler took his feet. They heaved the dead guy away from Amanda, putting him face up. Dillon studied him, but couldn’t place him. “Anybody know this guy?”
Holly took a quick glance at the grisly sight. She chewed on a ragged cuticle with her teeth and shook her head.
“Chandler?”
“Not sure.” He took one last look at the body on the floor, then turned away.
“Come sit on the bed,” Holly said to Amanda, patting the quilt. “Tell me what happened.”
“I was on my bed when I heard gunshots and shouts and I didn’t know what to do. I got off my bed and tried to hide.” Deep wrinkles furrowed Amanda’s otherwise smooth forehead. “I was so scared. I…I remembered my grandpa had put a gun in the nightstand and he told me to use it if anyone broke into the house.” Rising, Amanda went to her bed and sat down next to Holly. She burst out crying. “He, he…” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “I heard the back door open—the one by the mud room—and when he saw me, I thought he was going to shoot me so I shot him first.”
“You did the right thing,” Chandler said. He patted Amanda on the shoulder.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Amanda bent over and rocked back and forth while holding her stomach.
“It takes a brave person to do what you did, Amanda. I’m proud of you,” Chandler said.
The sick feeling in her stomach subsided for a moment, and she lifted her gaze. “You are?”
“Yes.”
“I want my grandpa,” Amanda said. Her voice was quiet and tremulous. “Where is he?”
Dillon and Chandler glanced nervously at each other. Holly put her arms around Amanda and brought her closer.
“What’s going on?” Amanda asked. “Where’s my grandpa? Is he okay?”
“Honey,” Holly said carefully, “I’m not sure how to tell you this.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry to tell you. Your grandpa is not okay.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” Amanda’s eyes darted around the room desperately. “Where is he?”
Rising off the bed, she bolted to the door. Chandler caught her before she could get any further. Holding both of her arms, he restrained her.
“Let me go!” Amanda exclaimed.
“I can’t,” Chandler said. “That man you killed, he shot your grandpa.”
“What? Is he okay?”
“He’s…no, he’s not.”
“Nooo!” Amanda wailed. “My grandpa is…no he can’t be…” Amanda searched Dillon’s and Chandler’s eyes for confirmation that her grandfather was still alive. Finding none, she burst out crying again.
“He’s gone,” Holly said gently. When she tried to comfort Amanda by putting a hand on her shoulder, Amanda recoiled. Anger rose quickly in her and she broke free from Chandler, went to the man, and kicked him in the side, hard kicks full of anger and frustration. She kicked until Chandler held her back, pinning her arms to her side. Amanda screamed at the needless loss of her grandfather, at the loss of her parents, at the loss of what she held dear to her. She crumpled in Chandler’s arms.
“Let it out,” he said. “Let it all out.”
* * *
“She’s sleeping now,” Holly said. She closed the door to Amanda’s bedroom, leaving it open a crack as Amanda had requested. Holly walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the table where Dillon and Chandler were sitting. She poured what was left of the bourbon/honey/lemon juice elixir. She downed it in one big gulp. “What did you do with the bodies?”
“We took the guy that Amanda killed and dumped him in a thicket about fifty yards from here,” Dillon said. “We took Jack to the barn and wrapped him in blankets we found. We’ll bury him tomorrow at first light.”
“Did you know that man, Chandler?” Holly asked. She thought she had caught a brief flash of recognition in his eyes when Chandler first saw the man.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to say it in front of Amanda.”
“Who is he?” Dillon asked.
“I’ve seen him hanging around the sheriff’s old office, the one that Cole Cassel took over. Said his name was Brent Hutchins. He was a loner, always staying to the side and watching people.”
“Wait,” Holly said. “I remember that guy now. He did some work for me a few years ago. Always gave me the creeps.”
“Plus,” Chandler added, “when it was time for us to meet earlier today and formulate a plan for the bridge, he was late and came up with an excuse that he couldn’t help us. Frank told him Cole wouldn’t be too happy about that and would probably fine him but Brent said he didn’t care. I guess he changed his mind and came out to the bridge just as all the action was happening. Instead of going back into town, he probably followed us this entire time, waiting for a good time to ambush us.”
“And the storm provided cover for him,” Dillon said.
“Right,” Chandler said. “That’s why we never saw or heard him.” He pulled out a folded piece of paper and slapped it on the table. “I found this in his front pocket. I guess he wanted the reward all to himself.”
Dillon leaned in closer to read it.
Dillon Stockdale and Holly Hudson. Man about 45, average height, built like a running back, dark hair graying at the temples. Reward $10,000. Holly Hudson, 42, 5’6”, 130 pounds, blonde hair. Reward $15,000.Wanted dead or alive.
“Right popular aren’t we?” Dillon commented. He passed the flyer to Holly. “Apparently, Holly, you’re more popular than I am.”
“That’s one popularity contest I don’t want to win.”
“Chandler,” Dillon said, “with this bullseye on our heads I won’t blame you if you want to leave. There will be no hard feelings if you do. We’ll take Amanda with us and you can head on out to Central Texas where your folks are.”
Chandler shook his head. “I’ll stay, but under one condition.”
“What’s that?” Dillon asked.
“I need to know something.”
“What?”
“Why does Cole Cassel have a bounty on your heads?”
Dillon explained the trial and the fact Holly was Cole’s defense attorney. He went into detail about how a plane clipped the Harris County courthouse and the ensuing chaos. He explained that Cole escaped and had cornered Holly in the garage stairwell, threatening her with a knife.
“During the confrontation, I killed two of his groupies.”
“I still don’t understand,” Chandler said. “Unless the guys you killed were two of his family members that still doesn’t explain why he hates you so much.”
Holly sighed. “We know each other from high school and—”
“Don’t,” Dillon interrupted. “You don’t have to.”
“I do,” Holly said. She cast him a definitive stare. “Let me finish.” While Holly explained their connection, that they had a child together, Chandler sat stoically, taking in the newfound knowledge.
“If I didn’t win the case,” Holly finished, “he said he’d kill our child.”
“That’s unbelievable,” Chandler said.
“Believe it,” Holly replied.
“The offer is still open if you want to leave,” Dillon said. “We’ll understand.”
“When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it,” Chandler said. “I’ll help get Amanda to Holly’s ranch, make sure you’re settled, then I’ll take Amanda to her great aunt’s place. Besides, if Cole Cassel comes anywhere near you, Holly, or Amanda, I’ll shoot him dead. Any man that would kill his own offspring to make a point needs to be deleted, and it would be my pleasure to be the one who presses the button.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Dillon said. “Well, let’s try to get some rest while it’s still dark. We need to bury Jack in the morning and get out of here as soon as possible. Holly and I will sleep in one of the bedrooms. Chandler,
where do you plan on sleeping?”
“I’ll sleep in the hallway by Amanda’s room. If anyone else comes knocking, I’ll answer with this.” Chandler patted his rifle. “Besides, that girl has guts. I’m going to see to it that she stays safe tonight.”
Chapter 19
Cole Cassel’s goal of taking over the town wasn’t going as planned and he cursed the stupidity of the people in the one-horse town.
All except for Chandler.
Now that was one guy Cole respected. He had military training which came in handy, and Cole knew he should have put him in charge of the bridge instead of Frank what’s-his-name. If it hadn’t been for Frank’s sister and the fact that she knew how to please a man, Frank would have been sent to the last of the line, no cuts allowed. She said she even had a girlfriend who’d be game for a ménage a trios. A slight smile crept across Cole’s hard features at the possibility.
When the group didn’t come back when they were supposed to, Cole sent Brent to check on things, and when he didn’t come back, Cole decided to go see for himself.
After the storm passed, he peeled out of town in the truck he had stolen right after the EMP took down the electrical grid. Fifteen minutes later he crossed the bridge, parked the truck, got out, and looked around. The sky had cleared from the night’s storm and the morning sun peeked over the land. The normally placid river was flowing at a swift pace and Cole scanned the muddy river on both sides. One side was steep where recent storm erosion had occurred, uprooting a tree. The other side of the river was grassy and contained a sandbar where debris from upriver had collected.
It was quiet and the place had an eerie feel about it. Cole wasn’t a guy who believed in hocus pocus and the tomfoolery of magicians, and he certainly wasn’t one to go visit a psychic, however, when the hair on the back of his neck stood up he took notice.
Something didn’t feel right.
Cole unholstered his gun, readying for whatever had given him the willies.
Stepping off the pavement, he walked over to a tree and stood there for a moment, thinking.