Run Like the Wind: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The SHTF Series Book 3)

by L. L. Akers

  Tina gave the boy a look. “No. You had your turn, Puck. Go sit down.”

  “I don’t want another turn. I want Olivia to be done.”

  Olivia smiled at Puck. “It’s okay, Puck. I need Tina or Tarra to tell Grayson I can outshoot Annie Oakley, so I’ll keep trying until I do.” She gave Tina and Tarra a snarky smile, and then as Puck hung his head and walked away, she attempted to loosen up.

  Graysie patted the blanket. “Puck, you and Ozzie come over here with me.” Puck hung his head as he went to sit between Gabby and Graysie, and Ozzie squeezed his way in, nudging his ball to Puck, in hopes he’d throw it. Puck ignored him, his pout completely lost on the dog.

  Tarra leaned back from her spot at the end of the blanket and tossed grass on Puck—not even earning a smile at her attempt to cheer him.

  He only had eyes for Olivia right now.

  Olivia took a deep breath, and stepped back to the table, announcing, “Range is hot,” as she’d been taught, and picked up her gun. She took her stance, squeezed her eyes tight and jerked the trigger, jumping once again at the sound she knew full well was coming.

  Tina cringed. “Cease fire! Stovepipe,” she announced loudly. She hurried toward Olivia, who lowered her gun to low ready position. “Finger off the trigger! Put your gun down and back away.”

  Olivia safely laid her gun down and stepped back. “Cease fire,” she repeated quietly to herself.

  Tina took the gun, popped the magazine out, racked the slide to open the action, and removed the casing. “A stovepipe happens when a spent casing fails to eject correctly. That causes the casing to get trapped upright in the slide.”

  She checked the action and the barrel to be sure there were no other problems—it appeared there were not—so she left the action open and laid the gun down again. “Check it and chamber,” she instructed Olivia. “Range is hot,” she announced loudly.

  Olivia picked it up, pointing it in a safe direction, and stepped up to the shooting line. She released the slide release lever to close the action, and made sure the hammer was up, and re-loaded her magazine. She racked it, realigned, and pulled the trigger, jerking as though still surprised at the crack of the bullet.

  Puck jumped up once again, hurrying over to pull at Olivia’s arm, with Ozzie behind him. “Come on, Olivia,” he whined. “I want to show you something right now.” He was nearly vibrating with impatience, like a toddler who wanted his mother’s attention and wanted it now.

  Olivia turned to look at the boy, having to look up to do it as he towered over her, and firmly pushed him away. “Puck, no. Go sit down now, and be still. Tina said range is hot. When someone says that, you don’t go near them or move around, and you especially don’t touch their arm if they’re holding a gun. You could get shot.”

  “So could you,” Puck mumbled and walked away, his head hung low.

  Ozzie loped hopefully behind him, with his ever-present tennis ball dripping from his mouth.

  Olivia stepped up and once again struggled with the slide. She heaved a big sigh, looking to her sister, Gabby, for help. She just wanted this over. But she’d promised Grayson she’d keep trying until the ladies declared her trained and ready.

  Gabby caught her glance and a pang of guilt hit her. Olivia was trying. This didn’t come easy to her. It would be like Gabby trying to clean and dress a wound. They each had their skills and guns weren’t Olivia’s. She had to help her, no matter how frustrated she was with her sister about so many things, and no matter how many times she’d already tried to teach her, with her own instruction falling on deaf ears.

  But sisters stuck together.

  “Wait.” Gabby hurried to the table and took the gun. “Olivia, I have trouble pulling back slides, too. Here’s a trick I learned. Don’t pull back the slide like most people do. Hold the slide firmly in your left hand, but push the gun away from you with your right hand, then release it quickly. It accomplishes the same thing.” She demonstrated without actually chambering it, only mocking the movement, and then laid the gun on the table and stepped back a few paces. “And don’t jerk the trigger. Easy on the trigger, cowgirl…”

  Tina nodded her approval and stepped back with Gabby, out of the line of fire, announcing, “Range is hot,” in a bored voice.

  Puck jumped up once again, nearly tripping on Ozzie. “Wait! Let’s do something else now. I’m bored!” he wailed, his face turning red. “Let’s go right now.”

  Olivia turned, putting her hands on her hips. “Puck! What is wrong with you? You had your turn, now it’s my turn. Go run along and find something else to do. We’re staying here until I get this right,” she scolded him in a firm voice, finishing with a long look that brooked no argument.

  She blew out a breath of frustration at his constant interruptions and stepped up to the table. “Range is hot!” she said, and stiffened up yet again, squinted her eyes, and squeezed the trigger, and then looked down at the gun in disappointment. The bullet casing was sticking out of the top.

  Another stovepipe.

  Olivia shook out her arms with a ridiculous gesture similar to shaking wet noodles, expecting someone to admonish her once again to loosen up.

  She was still holding the gun.

  Tina cringed. “Range still hot!” Defeat was showing in her own shoulders now. “Olivia, I meant put the gun down first, and then loosen up your body. Not your arms and hands. You’re already limp-wristing it. That’s what is causing those stovepipes. You need a better grip on the gun. Tighter. And, you’re still anticipating too much and jerking the trigger. Take a deep breath through your nose, and let it out your mouth. This doesn’t have to be stressful. Shooting can be fun!” she said with a fake smile plastered on her face, clearly about to lose her cool with Olivia, too.

  Puck paced behind the ladies, his hands on his head, stealing glances toward the shooting table at every pass. The boy was seriously anxious.

  Olivia placed the gun on the table and stepped back. “Cease fire,” she muttered and followed direction, putting her body through a flurry of adjustments, trying to keep up with Tina’s demands. Finally, she took a deep breath, picked up her gun, and tried to relax. “Like this?” she asked, looking at Tina for approval.

  “Range is hot!” Tina reminded her loudly, and then nodded, whether out of agreement or resignation, it wasn’t clear. “Looks better. You went from leaning too far forward, to starting to lean backward, like your gun was going to turn around and chase you. Looks good now.”

  Olivia paused to beam at Tina’s reluctant approval and turned to give Gabby a smug smile. The twins had argued earlier over the ‘teacup’ grip, and Olivia had slid it in without Tina correcting her. Taking any win she could get against her sister, she bobbed her head. “See that, Gabby? Tina didn’t mention my tea-cupping.”

  She pointed the gun downrange and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  The gun didn’t fire.

  “Range is hot,” Olivia announced loudly in a frustrated voice, and placed the gun on the table, looking over her shoulder for Tina to help her.

  Tina’s face was impassive. She took a deep breath, looking at the sky as she let it out slowly.

  Gabby stood up and Puck jumped to his feet like pop goes the weasel. She waved him to sit down and stepped toward the range. “I got it this time, Tina. Sit down and take a break.” She hurried to her sister’s side, reaching for the gun, when—

  boom.

  11

  The Farm

  Graysie and Gabby screamed in unison at the fountain of crimson coming out of Puck’s hand, while Puck stared wide-eyed at Gabby, and then the entire group fell silent.

  The air filled with a tangy, coppery smell, as the screaming stump raised red ruin.

  “Omigod, Omigod, Omigod…” Graysie chanted, jumping to her feet and running toward the table. Ozzie let loose a flurry of frantic barks, backing up on his haunches with his nose in the air. Tina and Tarra jumped up. The women surrounded Puck.

  In
seconds, Puck had shadowed behind Gabby and had forcefully shoved his arm in front of her, to block her hand from picking up the offending gun, just before it went off.

  Olivia and Gabby both stood open-mouthed, staring at Puck’s hand.

  Gabby exhaled. “Let’s get you home, buddy.”

  Olivia jumped into action, issuing orders. “There’s no time. And he might pass out. We can’t carry him. Hurry, Gabby. Hand me the range bag.” She pointed to the black zippered bag.

  As Gabby scrambled for the range bag that Grayson insisted be present at the shooting range at all times, Tina slowly closed her eyes and shook her head. “Shit,” she muttered. She turned around and ran for the blanket.

  Tarra pursed her lips, staring at Puck’s hand. “Olivia, what have you done?” There was an edge of anger in her voice. She gripped Puck’s wrist firmly with a grimace, raising it in the air, higher than his heart.

  Olivia rapidly shook her head. “I didn’t do it! Just shut up! Let’s focus on Puck!”

  Tina quickly spread the blanket out on the ground. “Sit down, Puck.”

  Puck sat down heavily, still holding his hand in front of his face, with Tarra quickly squatting beside him, her hand still firmly in place around his wrist.

  “We’ve got to stop the bleeding,” Olivia said as she dug into the bag. “We can’t even see the damage until we do that.”

  Puck’s chin quivered. His entire hand, and now wrist to the elbow was painted a solid crimson color. “It’s gone, Olivia. GrayMan is gonna be mad at me.”

  Olivia spared him a quick glance, and then went back to opening zippers, trying to find the Israeli compression bandage she knew had to be in there. “What? What’s gone?”

  “GrayMan’s ring. He gave it to me today,” he screamed. “He said since I didn’t get one. He finished school. And then they gave him a ring,” he explained in a lower voice, in the funny way that he talked. He leaned forward, squinting to try to see through the tsunami of red blood pouring out.

  Tarra gripped his arm tighter. “Puck, hold still. Don’t worry about a stupid ring.”

  “It’s not stupid!” Puck blew air out his nose. His face was getting pale.

  Grayson had gifted Puck his high school class ring that very morning, having come across it while looking for his spare holsters. Puck had been proud to wear it and could barely take his eyes off of it all day.

  Olivia found the First Aid Kit and popped it open, jerked out the Israeli compression bandage and ripped the package open with her teeth.

  “Omigod,” Graysie squealed, her hands over her mouth. She paced back and forth.

  Oliva shot her a stern look. “Graysie, get it together. You’ll scare Puck. It’s not that bad,” she lied, sending Graysie a conspiratorial wink.

  Graysie swallowed hard. She closed her eyes and stood stock-still for a moment. Exhaling as she opened them back up, she stood behind Puck and patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah. It’s… it’s going to be okay.”

  Puck tilted his head to look straight up at Graysie. His innocent eyes were filled with tears. He nodded, not as if he agreed, but slowly as though pleading with her to convince him, and make it so.

  “Yeah,” Graysie answered his beseeching look. “You’ll be throwing the ball for Ozzie in a day or so. Probably.” She pasted a weak smile onto her face.

  Olivia pulled the bandage from its outer pack, then ripped open the inner packaging and slipped the bandage out. She looked hard at it, pulling on the end and studying it, then looking to Puck’s hand again. “Dammit! This won’t work. It looks like the blood is coming from one of his fingers. I can’t wrap that with this big thing.” She dived back into the kit and pulled out a package of QuickClot bandages. She ripped it open, taking one white roll out.

  Tarra snatched up the Israeli bandage with her free hand. “Can’t we wrap it around his wrist? Wouldn’t that help slow the flow of blood?”

  Olivia shook her head and scooped up a bottle of water, then scooted over to Puck and Tarra with the smaller QuickClot bandage. “No, let’s just use this. Lower his hand down to me, Tarra. And Graysie, I need you to run as fast as you can and get the surgical kit. Hurry!”

  Tarra kept her grip, but gently lowered Puck’s hand toward Olivia’s lap.

  “I can’t feel anything,” Puck whined, staring at his hand.

  “Good. We get this done fast enough and you may not feel a thing until it’s over. Now, I need you to not look at it anymore, okay? Look at Ozzie. See how much he loves you? Just watch him.” Ozzie had planted his head across Puck’s ankle, giving little whines of concern, and staring up at Puck with big, soulful brown eyes.

  Olivia poured the water onto Puck’s hand and eyeballed the wound for just a second before a curtain of blood concealed it once again.

  She and Tarra locked eyes.

  This was bad.

  Tarra bit her lip and exchanged glances with Tina. Her face showed she too had gotten a good look in the split second they could actually see anything.

  Tina scooted in close and caught Puck’s attention while Olivia jerked her head to Gabby to lean in. She whispered into her ear, “Run fast to the house. Make sure Graysie brings Grayson back with her. Tell Grayson I’m trying to stop the bleeding and to come quick, and that he might need the thing he used on the deer last season to separate the bones.”

  Gabby cringed and jumped to her feet, taking off in flight behind Graysie.

  Olivia pushed the unrolled QuickClot bandage onto the wound and held it very tight, praying that her husband would hurry and take over this horrific job for her.

  Puck jolted, startling both Tarra and Olivia.

  “Hold still!” they both said in unison.

  Puck pointed with his right hand. “Bacon Bit!”

  The women turned to see Bacon Bit, the pig—still clad in a bedraggled, tattered purple tutu—nosing the ground on a particularly bloody spot of grass, not at all where Puck had been standing when he was shot.

  Olivia waved a hand at her. “Shoo!”

  Bacon Bit was moving fast, its flat nose as red as Rudolph’s, pushing through the grass, grunting and nosing like a blood hound on the trail of a sweaty rabbit.

  Puck screamed in alarm. “There’s the ring! That’s GrayMan’s ring! No, Bacon Bit!”

  Olivia, Tina and Tarra all gasped as Bacon Bit grabbed the ring—and all that it was attached to—and ran.

  12

  The Farm

  Grayson struggled up the last few steps of the porch, his burden heavier than he himself was. Puck was in his arms. He was followed by the ladies, and a trail of blood that slowly dripped from a paracord-wrapped stub, pulled tight as a tourniquet.

  Plop, plop, plop

  The bullet had taken the finger off between the hand and the first knuckle, leaving just enough to wrap it twice; long enough to carry him to the house.

  The boy had finally passed out, thankfully.

  When Graysie had ran up to Grayson, skidding to a stop with eyes full of panic, his heart had nearly stopped. He’d thought something was wrong with Olivia. When she’d told him no, it was Puck and that he’d been shot—again—his heart did stop. It was a long moment before he could breathe or even move. He’d stared at Graysie, trying to make sense of her words, as she’d bent over, her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

  Gabby had shown up then and told him Puck was alive, but that Olivia had sent for him, and told him to bring a bone saw.

  But, if it was that bad, they needed a cleaner working environment than the ground. He’d given Graysie and Gabby instructions on preparing a clean area in the house, and told Jake what tool he needed and reminded him the quickest way to sanitize it, and then had ran to Puck.

  Now, as he gently lay Puck down on the bed, he took a deep breath. He needed to stay calm. He needed to be the calm, even though it felt like this was his own oversized man-child laying there bloody and nearly lifeless. He had to walk Olivia through this, and it was going to be difficult for her
.

  He could do it himself, but he wanted—needed—to know the women could also do this if something should happen to him, or if he wasn’t around. Olivia was the best bet. She seemed to find her calm in the middle of a medical crisis, and had more knowledge about basic first aid than any of the other women; maybe even himself. She’d already handled patching up Puck from the first gunshot wound he’d received from Graysie, without blinking an eye.

  Grayson cringed.

  Poor kid. That had to hurt worse than a splinter in the dick.

  Then she’d taken care of removing dozens upon dozens of bee stingers and treating the stings on both Puck and the dog, Ozzie.

  He shook his head.

  We’re bad luck for Puck. Either that, or this kid could screw up a one-car funeral.

  Grayson grimly pulled on a set of latex gloves, matching the ones his wife wore. “Let’s get started.”

  Olivia blew out a deep breath and swallowed hard, then grit her teeth and hoped Puck would stay out. What she’d been doing the past five minutes—without local anesthesia—would have brought even the strongest man to his knees. “I think this is the last of it.”

  Puck’s hand lay lifeless on the make-shift surgical table—a rolling cart covered with a clean sheet that was once white. The last tiny shard of bone made a clink sound as it hit the bottom of the glass bowl. With a sigh, she placed the tweezers on the sheet with the other surgical tools. It hadn’t taken long to debride the wound, after they’d cleaned it, and now they were ready to clean it again with the sterilized saline, and suture it closed.

  She swallowed hard again, trying to keep her lunch down. She looked up at Grayson.

  He nodded firmly. “You can do this. Keep going. Just pretend that you’re sewing up the finger of a glove.”

  She took a deep breath and dove in, her face frozen in horror as she desperately tried to work the sagging pieces of thin flesh up on his ring finger. The meat was gone, leaving a pointy white bone pointed straight up out of the baggy skin puddled around it.