by Harley Tate
The metal buckled.
Madison turned. “Get off me!”
“Not until you stop!” Brianna crawled forward again. The weight of both of them in the shaft, scrunched in like sardines, was too much.
“Get back!”
“Stop fighting!”
Madison shifted and that was it. The metal gave, screws stripped, and both girls screamed. They fell through the ductwork and insulation. Through drywall and paint and dust. It only took a handful of seconds, but it stretched on in Madison’s mind forever. When her body hit the ground, she blacked out.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
WALTER
Cunningham Compound
9:00 a.m.
Four rooms down. At least ten to go. Walter motioned with two fingers to move forward and Colt nodded. So far, they hadn’t found a single Cunningham. He was beginning to doubt the intelligence from the sentry back at the checkpoint. Had the man lied to protect his family? Were they on a wild goose chase while Madison and Brianna were being tortured in some outbuilding? Had they already died in a snowmobile crash?
He approached the next room and Colt tried the handle. It opened with ease. A wide shaft of morning light lit up an empty bed and dust-covered table. Another empty room. More wasted time.
The plan was all wrong. He stepped closer to Colt. “We should go back. I think this is a decoy.”
“We should clear every room to be sure.”
Walter opened his mouth to argue when a voice cut through the stillness. “Check it out. Now!”
Before Walter could even think to seek cover, a massive crash sounded down the hall. Doors flew open, banging against the wall and swinging back on their hinges. The place wasn’t empty, after all.
Light from rooms with open windows lit up the hall in a zigzag, distorted by the hulking shadows of at least seven or eight men. Walter leaned close to the shadows, rifle tight against his shoulder, head down and ready. Colt sidestepped across the hall, mirroring Walter’s position on the other side as a rush of bodies appeared.
Walter took aim on a skinny guy with his head on swivel. Two shots and he crumpled to the floor. Colt’s work took out the next man, a real beefcake wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and tube socks.
The two bodies clogged the floor, but the men kept coming.
A gun fired in Walter’s direction and a bullet pierced the wallpaper above his head. They were sitting ducks in the open.
“Take cover!” Colt ducked back to the nearest cleared room and took up position from the corner, firing a series of shots before sneaking back behind the doorjamb.
Walter fired again before retreating, taking out a young guy of no more than twenty. “Madison!” He shouted above the din, hoping if his daughter could hear that she would know they were there to save her.
Colt volleyed another round of shots and another man fell to the ground. Walter leaned out and fired, straining to see through the haze and the bodies. Four down, three or four to go.
Colt shouted across the hall. “They’re ducking into a room on my side.” He tried to fire, but more shots rang out. Bullet holes pocked the wall outside Colt’s door.
Walter called out. “How far?”
“Five rooms away.”
Walter leaned forward and fired. A round hit a man’s thigh as he ducked inside an open door. Walter hoped he hit the femoral.
That left at least two uninjured. Maybe more. He swapped out his magazine and sucked in a lungful of air before leaning out again. The hall was still.
He waited, breath hot and thick as he heaved. Come on out. I know you’re in there. Walter stared at the light from the open doors. No shadows. No movement.
They couldn’t have killed them all. What were they waiting for? He counted to three and took a chance, running across the hall to join Colt on the other side.
“There’s at least two left.”
Colt nodded. “They must be holed up in a room. What was that crash?’
“No idea.” Walter wiped the sweat off his forehead. “But we need to keep moving.”
A series of gunshots erupted from below them. Walter jerked. “Larkin and Dani.”
Colt cursed. “There are too many of them. If they breach the stairs, it’s over.”
Walter refused to give up. “We can do this.”
Colt patted at his chest pocket. “We can smoke them out.”
“Do it.” Walter watched as Colt pulled out two ping-pong balls covered in aluminum foil with an inch-long spout at the top. He used a lighter to heat the bottom of both until smoke began to pour from the openings, and then he launched them as far as possible down the hall.
They landed halfway between their position and the door where the men retreated. The smoke wafted through the hall, growing thicker by the second. When it obscured enough of the hallway for them to advance, Walter and Colt eased from the safety of the empty room.
As they closed the distance, voices grew louder and louder. One room away from the men, Walter and Colt took cover on opposite sides of the hall. The smoke was almost gone. Colt pulled out two more smoke bombs and repeated the process, this time throwing them into the open space in front of the occupied room.
“Come on, Elias. We’ve got to go. That’s fire, man. Can’t you smell it? We’re all gonna get roasted alive.”
“It’s a trick.”
“What if it’s not?”
The men kept arguing and Walter was able to identify three distinct voices: Elias, the leader, and two other men. He didn’t hear Madison or Brianna.
“Let’s just take them and go.”
“No. It’s what they want.”
“They won’t shoot.”
Like hell we won’t. Walter checked his magazine. Plenty of rounds left.
“Then what?”
“We can worry about that later.”
More gunfire erupted from downstairs and Walter steeled himself. He had to hope Tracy was holding her own outside and that Larkin and Dani were doing their job on the first floor.
As the ping-pong balls fizzled out, a man emerged from the room.
Walter readied to fire, but the man wasn’t alone. Brianna stood in front of him, hopping on one leg. Blood tricked down her forehead and into her eye. Dust covered her clothes and hair. She looked like she’d been through a war. But she was alive and conscious, which was more than he could say about the last time he saw her.
The man held a handgun to her temple. “You shoot and I shoot her.”
Walter cursed. He couldn’t take the shot.
Another man emerged and his heart tripped. Madison! An older man held her by gunpoint and she staggered forward. She favored her right hand, cradling it as the man pressed the gun toward her temple.
Walter ached to protect her. His only daughter. Standing there hurt and afraid.
Colt held up a hand from his position in the opposite doorway, reminding Walter to stay calm.
The third man followed behind the other two, shielding himself with their bodies. He limped badly and Walter caught the sight of an open wound on this thigh. Silas. Walter focused on him. Silas carried a shopping bag full to bursting and a handgun, but nothing else. He was doing his best to hide behind the other two, but it wouldn’t work forever.
Colt leaned forward enough to scout out the situation before pulling back. He held up one finger and pointed first at himself and then the men.
Walter nodded. If anyone could take the shot, it would be him.
Walter held his breath as Colt took aim. He fired one round and pulled back.
Before Walter could check the accuracy, a door behind them slammed open. Shots careened into the wall. It wasn’t friendly fire. He whipped around and fired three rounds while Colt kept his aim trained on the men holding Madison and Brianna.
Another door slammed from where they had entered and Walter’s hopes sank. If the stairwell wasn’t secure, that meant Larkin and Dani were compromised and his job just got a million times harder. Walter twis
ted around and braced his back against the wall. The girls still stood where he’d last seen them, but Silas lay crumpled on the ground.
He nodded his appreciation to Colt. It made sense to go after the loose cannon first. Now they had two hostages and two kidnappers to deal with. Not great, but not impossible. Colt lit his last smoke bomb and threw it behind them toward the stairs. It would give them a few minutes of cover.
“It’s over!” the older man shouted. He tightened his grip on Madison. “You try and shoot me and she’s dead before I hit the ground!”
Madison struggled in the man’s grip, breaking away enough to shout toward her father. “Take the shot!”
Walter glanced across the hall, but Colt made a slicing motion across his neck. Too dangerous. He wouldn’t take it. Walter didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t stand there and watch them drag away his daughter. But he couldn’t risk killing her, either.
Standing there, staring at his daughter, all he could think about was the first time she took a step. Barely a year old with chubby cheeks and dimpled knees, standing in the front yard, wobbling all about. She took one step, laughed, and fell down.
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
And now she stood less than ten feet away and Walter couldn’t close the distance. He only had one choice. He stepped out into the hallway and held his rifle over his head. “Don’t take her. Take me.”
“No! Dad!” Madison lashed out at the man holding her and Brianna did the same, twisting around on her one good leg before using the hurt one to knee the man in the crotch.
Gunshots rang out. One after another.
Walter couldn’t tell the direction or who was firing, but his daughter was there in the middle. He launched forward. “No!”
The man holding Madison jerked, eyes wide as he looked down at his chest. Madison broke away and he fell, face-first, onto the hallway floor. Walter reached out, catching Madison as she stumbled.
Brianna landed hard on the ground beside him, the man holding her hostage falling a moment later at her feet.
More gunshots erupted at the other end of the hall and Walter spun around, clutching Madison tight to his chest. Larkin stood at the end of the hall, lit up by a shaft of light, a handgun pointed at a body on the ground.
Walter twisted back around as Colt emerged from the doorway. Both kidnappers were bleeding out on the floor. Walter sagged in relief. “Thank you.”
Colt shook his head. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t take the shot.”
“You didn’t?” Walter looked up, confused, only to find his wife standing above the man who once held Madison by the throat.
Tracy fired a single bullet into the center of his skull. “The first one was for Madison. That one’s for me.” She kicked him once before lifting her head. Blood speckled her cheek and her clothes, and Walter couldn’t love her more if he tried.
She wiped her cheek and smeared the splatter. “It’s time to go.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
TRACY
Cunningham Compound
10:00 a.m.
Tracy reached for her daughter’s hand and Madison rushed to her. “Thank God you’re alive.” She brushed her daughter’s matted hair off her face and looked her in the eyes. “Did they hurt you?”
Madison held up her hand. “Pretty sure a couple of fingers are broken. And I’ve got a nasty bruise on my head. Whatever I did to my leg happened in the fall.”
Tracy wanted more than anything to ask her about the details, but they didn’t have time. She turned to Walter. “We spotted five more regrouping by the water. We need to get out of here before they catch us inside.”
“What about Peyton and the Cliftons?”
“I left them just inside the doors and watching.”
Colt lifted Brianna into his arms as Larkin and Dani hurried to join them.
Larkin gave everyone a quick nod. “We’ve taken out six downstairs. Based on the body count up here, we’re looking at fewer than ten shooters left. Maybe only five.”
Tracy spoke up. “There’s a group of men assembling at the water.”
“Any children?”
“One woman with a couple of kids sped off in a car, but that’s it.”
“Then we hit the men gathering outside and get out of here.”
“Agreed.” Tracy turned to Madison. “Can you walk?”
“With help.”
Tracy hooked her arm around Madison’s waist and helped her to the rear stairs. Walter led in the front, Tracy, Madison, Colt, and Brianna took up the middle, and Larkin and Dani guarded the rear. They piled into the first-floor hallway and looked around. No sign of anyone.
Tracy pulled out her gun and the rest of the party that could manage did the same. Colt set Brianna down and she leaned against the wall beside Madison. Walter and Larkin eased the door to the outside open.
A pile of bodies greeted them, followed by Peyton and Anne.
“It’s clear.”
As Tracy stepped out into the morning light, Barry held up a handful of keys. “We’ve got our choice of getaway vehicles thanks to our friends here.”
Tracy looked at the men now lying dead on the ground. All rough around the edges and worse for wear with threadbare jeans and thin jackets insufficient to fight off the winter chill. Complete opposites to the well-fed linebackers inside. “They must not have been part of the inner circle.”
“Only a couple of shotguns between them. Easy pickings.”
Larkin stepped forward. “I’ll search the other buildings.” Colt and Dani volunteered to go with him and the three took off.
Everyone else tucked themselves into a sheltered patio of the motel. It gave Tracy and Anne a chance to assess their daughter’s injuries. Madison’s fingers needed setting and her leg some ice, but most of her wounds were superficial. Brianna fared a bit worse, but nothing time and rest couldn’t repair.
“How did you all get so dirty?” Dust clung to every inch of both girls and bits of drywall stuck to their hair and clothes.
Before they could answer, Larkin jogged back up. “All clear.”
Tracy exhaled. “So that was the last of them?”
“The ones looking for a fight at least.” Larkin motioned toward the lake. “Saw one guy run off that way. Pretty sure he’d pissed his pants.”
“Should we chase him down?” Barry picked up a rifle. “We don’t want to leave any loose ends.”
“No.” Walter shook his head. “As long as we make sure we aren’t followed, we’ll be fine. We ditch the cars, cut any associations with this place, and move on.”
Tracy turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. The motel. The outbuildings. Picnic tables and a boat slip. In the summer, the place would be the perfect base camp for hunting and fishing. Combined with scavenging, a family could live there indefinitely without needing to farm. No wonder the Cunninghams managed to do so well.
“What about their supplies and weapons?” Brianna glanced around. “Shouldn’t we check them out?”
“She’s right.” Larkin stepped toward Barry. “Give me the keys to a truck and I’ll stay behind. We can load up as much as we can carry.”
“I’ll stay, too.” Colt jogged up and nodded at Larkin. “We found a storehouse full of canned goods. We’d be stupid to leave it here.”
Tracy disagreed. “What about the women and kids? I don’t think we should take it.”
Walter glanced at his wife. “Let’s leave all the food but take the weapons.”
“We were fortunate with our harvest this year.” Barry echoed Walter’s sentiments. “There’s no reason we can’t leave the food. But take all the guns. We don’t need to give them the means to attack us later.”
Colt and Larkin nodded and took off, meeting Dani halfway down the trail. Colt motioned that she would stay and the three of them disappeared behind the trees.
Tracy turned to Walter. “We should pack up and go. Madison and Brianna need medical attention.”
&n
bsp; “And Ben’s been on his own a long time. We’ll be lucky if he didn’t try to crawl his way home by the time we get back.”
Peyton shook his head. “Lottie’s on guard, remember? She would never let him leave.”
Tracy almost laughed as they all piled into two of the Cunningham trucks. They drove out of the motel parking lot, backtracking to where they stashed their own vehicles. It didn’t take long to transfer over and hit the road.
By the time the sun hung high in the sky, Ben Jacobson’s beat-up F-150 rumbled back into the Clifton compound followed by an old truck the Cliftons used. Tracy helped her daughter step out of the back seat while Barry lifted his daughter down from the other side.
They had made it. Tracy looked to the road. She wouldn’t breathe easy until Colt, Larkin, and Dani were home, but the hard part was over. They rescued Madison and Brianna and the men who took them were dead.
So much had happened in the past forty-eight hours. They had gone from hopeful to worrying about the future with the Jacobson family to watching their new friends die and loved ones suffer.
But through it all, they had survived.
Walter stopped beside his wife. “Worried we’ve been followed?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
She turned to him with a sad smile. “Is it wrong to be thankful they’re dead?”
“The Cunninghams?” He slipped his arm around her and squeezed. “No. Our daughter is alive and safe. Brianna is back home. We couldn’t save John or Craig, but Daniel might be alive. Ben is on the mend. Those are blessings. And we can be thankful for them every single day.”
Tracy exhaled. Her husband was right. She could be thankful the Cunninghams would no longer pose a threat and sleep knowing they would be safe overnight. After staring down the road a moment longer, Tracy let her husband guide her into the cabin.
303 Days Without Power
Chapter Thirty