by L. L. Akers
Tucker and Grayson stood over Curt, as he sniveled and begged for mercy with a tsunami of tears, blood and whimpers.
Tucker looked to Grayson standing silent, his arms folded across his chest, as though trying to keep himself under control. He could see him vibrating with anger as he stood over Curt.
He looked down at Curt and thought about that innocent baby.
Sammi.
And her grieving mother, Sarah, who was lost to them too. They’d had to pry the dead baby out of her arms as she refused to believe there was no life left in her. Sarah hadn’t come out of her house since then, barely eating and staring at the bedroom ceiling for hours upon hours. She’d told Katie she wanted to die with Sammi; to be buried with Sammi in her arms to protect her from the worms that she’d finally seen and tried to pick out of her daughter’s face, one by one, as though it were nothing more than plucking grass from her hair after a playful romp in the yard.
That woman was totally alone now, at least until her husband found his way home from where ever he was stationed when the grid went down. Curt had taken away his happy homecoming, too, if he ever made it home—instead, he’d be met with his baby in a grave and his wife out of her mind with grief.
He took a deep breath; he wouldn’t feel bad about this.
He hoped.
Tucker’s hand hovered over the gun that he now wore on his side. He almost agreed with Jake. This was crazy…crazier than anything he’d ever imagined he’d be involved in. Everything felt surreal. Were they actually going to end someone’s life? On purpose? He himself had said this was now the Wild West, and finally, he truly believed his own words.
He dropped his hand away from the gun.
He couldn’t do it.
Not that way.
He knew there’d come a time—sooner rather than later—that he’d be forced to live or die by a gun, but that day wasn’t today. There were other ways to shut up a rat, and they were less noisy, too.
“I’ll take care of it,” Tucker said and stepped closer to Curt. Although he didn’t want to touch the bloody mess that was now Curt, with his training, he knew more than one way to kill a man without wasting a bullet.
Curt threw himself backward, quickly crab-walking away from Tucker in cowardly fashion as Tucker moved to chase him down, walking slowly toward him. He hoped he fought. It’d be easier if Curt fought him. Easier on his conscience anyway.
Curt pleaded another stream of jagged, muffled words. “Don’t! Jury! Law!” were the only three they could understand, as he whined through broken, bloody teeth and a hanging jaw. He scooted faster, trying to back-crawl his way to freedom. Tucker followed until Curt’s path was blocked by a tree, his back shoved up against the rough bark.
Curt looked around frantically, realizing it was the end of the road.
Grayson calmly answered, “There is no law right now. Things will be going back to the good old days; eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth. Consider yourself judged,” he said. “You’ll get a second judging at the pearly gates.”
Curt sobbed wordlessly and Tucker visibly cringed.
“—Dammit, Curt.” Grayson impatiently stepped in front of Tucker. “You lived liked like a coward. Can’t you even die like a man?” He half-turned and pushed Tucker back. “Ears!”
Tucker covered his ears.
Grayson pulled his gun from his holster and shot Curt between the eyes.
20
Tullymore
Screams rang out, startling Tucker and Grayson even worse than the thud of Curt’s dead body hitting the ground.
Both looked around with wide eyes. Had they been seen?
A chorus of barking filled the air. Tucker knew those barks. Those were his dogs, and something was very wrong.
“You go,” Grayson said. “I’ll take care of him.”
They both stared at Curt, finally silenced.
“With what? Do you see a shovel anywhere?” Tucker answered tersely. “Oh shit, Grayson. You—we—shouldn’t have done this. He’s dead.”
“Shut the hell up, Tucker. Of course he’s dead. He just got lead poisoning. Pull yourself together. We all decided this was best. Now go!” Grayson ordered, pointing toward the houses. “Go see what’s up. If anyone asks, you left Curt in here talking to me. Gun went off accidentally. Everything’s fine.”
Tucker ran, realizing he was shivering in the heat. Shock, he guessed. He broke through the woods just in time to see a box truck recklessly speeding down the street, with a man hanging out the window, his meaty arms covered in tattoos pointing a gun—
—at his boys, Zach and Isaac, who were standing in the road waving their arms and yelling, and then giving chase on foot, cutting through a yard and running like the wind, lightning fast, as only teenage boys can do, breaking the distance between them too fast.
Pop, pop, pop.
He ran faster, his heart pumping…screaming, “Boys, get out of the road. Get down!” as the truck slid around a corner, the tires squealing. Please lord, he prayed. Please let them miss.
Pop, Pop.
Zach hearing his father’s bellow, answered in return, without breaking his stride. “They got our dogs, Dad!”
“Forget the dogs! They have a gun,” Tucker screamed. He pulled his own gun out of the holster, knowing it was too far to make a shot, but not knowing what else to do, just as the shooter in the truck took aim again.
At his boys.
He fell to one knee and brought the gun up, his arms shaking, as thoughts flooded in: His children laying still with a bleeding hole in the hearts. Katie grieving over their boys shot in the middle of the road. Him shoveling dirt over their still-boyish faces. Karma… coming for him for what they just did to Curt.
Fuck Karma.
He pulled the trigger, aiming at the truck, again and again and again…until he’d unloaded the full magazine, every shot too short.
At the same time as the shooter split the air with his own lead.
Isaac, the younger of the two, dove for the ground, sliding on the grass as though stealing third base, coming to a stop and covering his head with his hands.
But Zach ran on, gaining on the truck who had to slow for another corner to make its getaway out of the neighborhood, running straight into the path of a barrage of bullets as though made of steel, with no regard for the fact he was being shot at.
Time froze as the shooter half-crawled out the window to get a better shot. His muscled tattooed-arms seemed steady—much steadier than Tucker’s—as he aimed for blood. Tucker could see he had a perfect shot. A perfect kill shot to take out his eldest son.
Tucker’s heart clenched and he held his breath. His eyes filled with tears as memories flooded in: Zach’s purple face as he was born with the cord around his neck, and his relief when the doctor unwound it and smacked his bottom, finally getting a cry of anger in return.
Zach at Tee ball, so tired and bored in the outfield as he waited for something exciting to happen, drawing circles in the dust with a worn-out sneaker.
Zach when he ran into a tree, running uphill in the rain with his eyes closed, as they all yelled, watch out for that tree! from the porch, and their laughter once he’d gotten up and was okay, after nearly knocking himself out.
Such a good kid, right up until hormones and girls hit and his tongue forked, and he and Katie marveled at how fast his innocence disappeared, replaced by a back-talking, defiant young man who googled everything to prove his points.
But still… shaping up to be a fine man in spite of it all.
Or he had been on his way to being a fine young man.
There was no stopping it, time was flying by in fast-forward as he watched, too far away to do anything to change it.
This was happening.
All within a span of seconds, amid screams he now heard from his mother, Katie, too. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw she too now running in chase of her firstborn child, her mouth wide open in a strangled cry. She too saw the writing on the wall
and knew she was too late.
She was going to lose her dogs and one of her babies.
One of their babies…
He cringed and squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see what he knew was going to happen, when all of a sudden, he heard Jake bellow.
His eyes popped up just in time to see Jake crash into Zach from atop his bike, and the two go down in a tangled mess, the wheels still spinning as the bike slid across the grass, and he could almost see the bullets whiz over their heads as Jake threw himself onto Zach, pinning the man-sized boy to ground, as the truck tore down the road and disappeared.
Tucker sank to the ground himself, dropping his gun and holding his thumping heart, his throat too tight to speak, and his legs too loose to stand.
21
Tullymore
Tullymore ran and gathered around Jake and Zach, several lending a hand down to pull them up. Both were bleeding in several spots.
Jake stuck his hand out to Zach. “Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t want to run you down with a bike, but I couldn’t get your attention, and I sure as hell couldn’t catch you on foot.”
Zach shook his hand, not meeting his eyes, his anger apparent, but manners overriding it. Everybody knew about his and Gabby’s car accident that had almost claimed Jake’s life years ago, resulting in the loss of Gabby’s mother. Jake still carried a few scars and a limp from it.
The boy stared down the road, biting his lip, as Katie and Tucker both arrived at the same time, panting, and nearly taking him to the ground again in a big hug from both sides, their arms wrapped tightly around him.
Katie sobbed.
Tucker stepped back and cuffed him on the head. “What were you thinking, son? Those men were shooting at you.”
“They got our dogs, Dad,” Zach answered through a thick voice. “They got Hoss and Daisy. What if they hurt them?”
Tucker rubbed his son’s back and looked around in confusion. “Who were they?”
Katie swiped at her eyes. “Just some guys. Four of them. Penny and I were in the garage, checking inventory on the food, when they rolled up with guns. They had us at gunpoint when Kenny, Xander, and the boys walked in. They took all our food, and when the dogs growled, they took them too. Said they’d make good fighting dogs, or—” she sucked in a huge breath and swallowed hard, “or they’d eat them.”
Tucker gave a hard look to Kenny and Xander.
Both looked at the ground.
Katie defended them. “They were caught unawares, too, Tucker. They had no idea what they were walking into.”
Tucker nodding, accepting it. It wasn’t their fault, and they didn’t have guns after all. “We need to get you two a gun.” He looked back to Katie. “What’s the damage? What did they get, besides Hoss and Daisy?”
“Almost everything,” she answered.
His eyebrows raised. “Almost everything?”
“They left the heavy bags of rice and beans and a few dozen cans of vegetables, only because I’d moved a tarp over them to count the stuff that was under the tarp. They didn’t see it.”
The crowd murmured. This was really bad news. They were already short on food. How would they all eat now?
Katie looked around. “Where’s Curt? Maybe we can ask him to share what they have?”
Tucker and Grayson exchanged glances.
Penny cleared her throat. “I forgot to tell you, Katie. Their food is all gone too. His wife took it all and left.”
Katie looked at her in astonishment.
“Everything?” Tucker asked.
Penny nodded, her mouth a thin line.
Katie shook her head. “No. I bet Curt has more. He’s probably got it hidden. Where is he? Let’s ask him.”
Grayson stepped up. “Curt had an accident. He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Katie asked. “Gone where?”
“Gone. As in dead. It was a bad accident.”
Katie, Penny and a dozen others gasped.
Grayson looked over his shoulder and the sound of Graysie’s voice. She and Puck were hurrying toward them from Neva’s house, her arm around Puck. His balance seemed a bit off as they hurried toward him. “Accidental discharge. Fool shouldn’t have been playing around. Y’all can bury him beside Sammi; he can keep her company. If his wife took the goods and ran, then we need to check their house. I agree with Katie…there might be more inside.”
The rumble of a loud engine sounded through the neighborhood, startling everyone. The group froze and listened.
“Go!” Tucker yelled.
Everyone stood still.
“You want to get shot? Go!” he yelled again. “They’re coming back!”
While people ran every which direction, heading for houses and garages, trying to find cover, Tucker gave his wife and boys a push. “Get in the house with the girls. Hurry! Everybody get inside and stay down. Run!”
Grayson grabbed Graysie’s hand, dragging her behind him as he tried to run. She pulled back. “No, Daddy!” she yelled in panic. “Don’t leave Puck!”
He skidded to a stop and looked over his shoulder. The boy just stood there, blank-faced, pulling on his pants with his free hand, his other sticking out of the sling that was across his chest, pointed at his opposite clavicle. Puck’s eyeballs were doing all the work while the rest of his face and body seemed to be on break, watching everyone scatter.
“Puck! Move your dead ass and come on!” Grayson yelled.
“Keep going,” Jake yelled at Grayson. He ran back and grabbed Puck’s good arm. “Go! I got him!” He pulled a confused Puck along as they followed on Grayson and Graysie’s heels, all rushing into the garage one behind the other. The kids huddled together while Jake and Grayson hunkered down under the one window to await more mayhem.
22
Tullymore
With dozens of eyes peeking around doors and out of windows, a convoy of military trucks rolled around the corner and stopped in front of Tucker’s house. The people ran back out, excited, with hopes that the convoy had intercepted the other truck and brought their food right back.
Tucker, Jake and Grayson all hurried back out to greet them as they pulled up in front of his house. Tucker ran to the window of the Humvee, finding the same man with the scar on his face. “Hey! Did you see a box truck leave out of here a minute ago? They just robbed us.”
Cutter opened the door and stepped down, putting his hands on his hips. “I didn’t see anyone.” Slowly, he looked out over the crowd, clicking his tongue. “Looks like you’ve got a lot of mouths to feed. What’re you going to do now that your food is gone?”
Tucker backed up, his hand hovering over his empty gun. “I didn’t say they took the food. You already knew that. You got something to do with this?”
The other men in camouflage fatigues stepped up beside the man with the scar, sliding their rifles off their shoulders in warning.
Cutter pointed at himself. “Me? No. Why would—oh come on! We’re just popping back in like we told you we would to offer you sanctuary. Had no idea you’d just been robbed, but in this day and time, there’s only a few things worth dying over…and I see you finally dug your guns out of the lake,” he nodded toward Tucker’s waist and then looked at the heavy pistols strapped to both Grayson and Jake’s sides. He looked up and around, “If they didn’t take those, and you still have your women, it’s just a lucky guess it was food they took.”
Tucker’s eyes narrowed, as did Jake and Grayson’s, and all the eyes of his group that was now gathered around him once again. There was no doubt from the timing, and the swarmy look on the man’s face, that they’d had something to do with this.
“Look,” Cutter said. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help you. We did bring some news this time, too.”
Tucker’s hands went to his own hips. “I’m all ears.”
“The grid going down has been confirmed as an attack on our country, via cyberwar. We don’t have final confirmation of who it was—yet—but we know it was more than
one country collaborating on it. Intel is also saying a second attack is imminent; that the grid going down was just the first phase to weaken us. I speak on behalf of the only piece of government who knows you’re here: it’s not safe to be out here on your own. There’s power in numbers. Come join us at the camp and we’ll all be better protected and fed.”
Tucker looked out over the crowd. Unsure faces looked back at him. No one trusted these guys, but he could see the uncertainty of staying at Tullymore—especially now with very little food and water shortages—on their faces.
He looked to his own family.
Katie was flanked on either side by the girls, who each had a brother next to them, all wet-eyed and still sniffling, clung together. He knew food and water was the last thing on their minds right now. Those four-legged beasts were part of their family. They were all very attached to them.
“Daddy…Hoss and Daisy… We have to get them back,” his youngest daughter begged through a broken voice, a river of tears streaming down her face.
Puck and Graysie stood behind his kids, and he watched Puck gently pat his youngest daughter’s head, his own eyes filling with tears, too. The boy was nearly choking, trying not to cry out loud. He dropped his hand when he saw Tucker looking at him, and awkwardly tugged at his pants, pulling them up again, and kicking at pebble on the ground, his eyes cast down.
Tucker spoke to his group, ignoring the stranger amongst them, “If anyone wants to go, that’s on you. I can’t make decisions for you or your family. As for me and mine, we’re staying here. I have to get our dogs back before we go anywhere.”
“Was it four tattooed-up guys in a plain white box truck?” Cutter asked.
Tucker nodded emphatically. “Yeah, you know them? Where do I find them?”
Katie grabbed Tucker’s arm. “They all had lots of ink, but the biggest tat that stood out was the word ‘TWO’ etched in barbed wire around their biceps. All four of them had that same tattoo.”