Dave frantically searched for the small radio he’d clipped to his belt when he let his wife know the major had passed the first time, but it wasn’t on his hip where he’d put it. He slapped at his pockets, desperately hoping his memory was faulty and the walkie wasn’t lost somewhere in the grass when Ben had shoved him down.
“What are you doing?” Ben whispers.
“Looking for the fucking walkie-talkie,” he replies, starting a second round of searching.
“Right! Shit! We should have…”
“Yeah, I know,” Dave growls. “But I can’t find it!”
“You clipped it on your hip. I saw you,” Ben replies.
“Well, it’s not there now!” Dave growls again.
He ran his hands along the waist of his jeans in the front with both hands, past his hips and the rest of the way around, certain he’d lost it. To his delight, his fingertips touched the small, plastic box. It must have worked its way to the small of his back when he was pushed into the grass and helped along with the running. He pulled it free from the denim to send the alarm the bad guys were coming and that there were only two of them. He hoped there was still enough time to do something. Perhaps Brigette and Zack could get into a position where they could take the soldiers out before they could harm anyone. At the same moment he pressed the talk button on the walkie, he heard an unfamiliar man’s voice yelling from farther up the road. The man was ordering Dave’s family not to move if they didn’t want to be shot.
“Put the gun down, bitch,” Gracey shouts at Brigette. “You too, asshole!” he tells Zack.
Standing on opposite sides of their car, the couple exchanges glances, deciding whether to comply with the orders, or fight to protect their boys hiding in the back seat. Unable to control themselves, despite their parents’ hastily whispered instructions when the two armed soldiers stepped out of the darkness, the young brothers peek over the back seat to see the men shouting orders.
“Gracey! There’s somebody in the back seat,” Merriweather shouts.
His sweating hands tighten their grip on his M-4 as he takes a step to the side. This wasn’t an attempt to get a better angle on the rear window, it was at Gracey’s insistence he’d agreed to in the jeep. Gracey had warned if they came across any people, which they had, it would be critical for the two of them to be continuously moving. A necessary precaution if there was anyone trying to get a bead on them from the trees. Simply put, a moving target was harder to hit.
“Get out of the car!” Gracey orders, aiming his weapon at the rear window and shifting his position. The soldiers’ discovery of their boys made the decision for Zack and Brigette to surrender without resistance.
“They’re just little kids. Don’t shoot,” Zack tells them.
He raises one empty hand over his head and carefully eases the shotgun he’d been carrying to the dirt. Zack lifts both hands over his head as he stands, and Brigette copies his movements in dropping her carbine before raising her own hands.
“I want to see them!” Gracey demands, taking a step to the side.
“Get out of the car!” Merriweather yells.
“They’re just kids,” Zack repeats.
“I don’t care. I want everyone where I can see them,” Gracey replies as Merriweather repeats their demand. Brigette nods to the terrified boys and Jaxon pops the rear car door open.
“Slowly!” Merriweather warns. Even though the weather is cool in the fall evening, he’s sweating heavily and uses his forearm to quickly wipe his drenched brow.
Dave and Ben creep up on the camp, staying to the shadows on the sides of the dark, narrow road. They’re close enough to see Jaxon exit the car, followed closely by his younger brother. The boys both stand next to their mother, wrapping their arms around her legs and trying to hide behind her. Dave moves to hide behind the front of his newly acquired 4x4 for a better view. When they’d arrived, he’d parked it pointing toward their way out, in case they were forced to make a quick exit, and away from the other vehicles. Joe had copied this maneuver when he followed Dave in but had parked under the far end of the rusty covering, with Zack’s Volkswagen at the other end. Zack was the only one who hadn’t turned his car around to point it at their exit. Since he was the first vehicle to drive into their hiding spot, he just assumed he’d be the last to leave and would have plenty of room to turn around. Dave felt like they’d been lying low in this location for days, but they’d arrived here just this morning, hoping to avoid any more encounters on the road, especially with the military.
Keeping silent as he moved, Ben quickly followed Dave to his vantage point. He peered over the hood of the SUV and carefully slipped the rifle strap from his shoulder. With slow and precise movements, he laid the barrel of his bolt-action rifle along the hood, being careful to keep it protected in the shadow and to not make a sound. He fed a 7.62 round into the breach and slid the bolt into place, thankful he’d recently cleaned and oiled the rifle that morning.
Dave switched the safety off on his twelve-gauge, knowing there’s already a shell in the chamber, and watched as one of the soldiers ordered Zack to stand next to Brigette and the boys. The other kept his gun aimed at Pam, who’s standing between Lynn and Joe near the side of the Mercedes. Mike was nowhere to be seen and Dave assumed he’s still in the back seat, unable to get out because of his injured back. Joe’s pistol was already on the ground and the three of them were frozen in place with their hands raised.
Merriweather took a step to the left, trying to remember to keep moving as he pointed the muzzle of his barrel at Brigette and the boys. He figured Zack wouldn’t dare move if the rest of his family was being held at gunpoint, and he’s right. Zack looks at his wife and children before glaring with murderous intent at the soldier.
“Move over with the others,” Gracey orders Pam. Unlike the soldier covering Brigette and the boys who look scared and twitchy, this one appears to be calm and cool. Like he does this sort of thing every day before breakfast. For a fleeting second, Dave wondered if the military trained its soldiers in the finer points of hostage taking.
“But my—” Pam begins, intending to tell them Mike’s in the backseat. But since her feet weren’t moving, Gracey cuts her off before she can finish.
“Fucking move,” Gracey snarls, glaring at her as he gestured to Zack and the others with his muzzle. He stepped again to one side without thinking, keeping himself moving. This was something Dave is certain they train soldiers about being out in the open. That, and don’t bunch up or light three cigarettes with one match in the dark.
“Come on, Mom,” Joe tells her, gently leading Pam and Lynn to stand with the rest of the family. Lynn places herself next to Brigette and the two young boys gravitate to her. Pam stands with Zack on one side of her and Joe on the other, with all of them positioned at the rear of the Volkswagen.
“We’ve moved. Now, will you listen to me?” Pam asks.
“Mark. Get their guns,” Gracey says to Merriweather, ignoring Pam’s question while he covers them.
“Keep aiming for the asshole giving the orders,” Dave whispers. “If you get a clear shot, don’t wait for me. Just take it.”
“These rounds are going to punch right through him. Body armor or not,” Ben replies softly, laying his cheek back against the stock and looking down the length of the barrel through the open sights. “I have to wait until he’s completely clear. I don’t want to accidentally shoot someone on the other side of him. And it’d be a lot fucking easier if he’d stop moving,” he growls, adjusting his aim again.
“I’m going to try and get closer,” Dave says.
“Wait,” Ben whispers. “If you’re going to start shooting, don’t use the shotgun. You’ll probably end up hitting Mom or one of the others,” he says. Reaching to the small of his back with his trigger hand, Ben pulls out his pistol and hands it to Dave. “Use this,” he adds.
Dave nods his understanding. He hadn’t considered the spread of the buckshot in his rescue strategy,
what there was of it. But he knew Ben was right. He also knew, whatever they were going to do, it needed to happen soon. Preferably before the rest of the soldiers started wondering what was keeping these two for so long. He sets his shotgun on the ground next to Ben and checks again, making sure the soldiers’ attentions are focused on Pam and the others. When Dave’s satisfied the soldiers won’t be looking in his direction, he moves closer to the Mercedes, keeping it between him and the others.
“Are there any more of you out here?” Gracey asks Pam.
Pam shakes her head, refusing to give these bastards any information that might put her family in more danger. But an idea immediately enters her thoughts. The only thing that might be better than not giving them any information, is to give them misinformation. She knows there’s no way she’ll be able to convince them they’re surrounded and the best thing they could do is turn around and leave, so she tries a different approach.
“My husband and two of our sons went out earlier today, but…” she says, letting the soldiers fill in the blanks on his own.
“Yeah. We found those assholes in the woods. Let’s just say they won’t be coming home for dinner tonight,” Gracey sneers, falling for the deception.
“You bastards,” she replies, glaring back at him.
“That’s a pretty big gun for a woman,” Merriweather says to Brigette, lifting her AR-15 from the dirt.
“It used to belong to my mother. Is that where you got yours, Mark?” Brigette asks him. Her comment generates some laughter, including from Gracey who guffawed the hardest.
“That’s some funny shit!” gasps Gracey.
“Shut up, Gracey,” Merriweather replies. He quickly inspects the rifle before flipping the safety on and slinging it to his back, placing the strap over his head and right shoulder.
Dave sits with his back pressed against the rear door of the Mercedes and listens. He wonders if Pam knows they’re here or is just hoping they are. He almost yelps in surprise when he hears a soft whisper come from inside the SUV. Looking up, he twists his head to see the rear window is down and turns to get on his knees.
“Mike?” he whispers.
“Who else were you expecting?” Mike quietly replies.
“Jesus, Mike,” Dave starts, wanting to tell his father-in-law this isn’t the time for his smartassery but skips the rebuke for now.
“They don’t know I’m in here,” Mike says.
“Are you armed?” Dave asks, hoping Mike had one he didn’t know about, loaded with magic bullets that would only hit the soldiers and swerve around everyone else. He raised up on his knees to cautiously look into the Mercedes. The first thing he sees is the window on the other side is up, helping to prevent anyone from overhearing their conversation.
“Just my pocketknife,” Mike answers.
“Fuck,” Dave sighs. He’d already assumed this was going to be the answer, or something similar. But it still emphasized just how fucked they were at the moment. He couldn’t help thinking about the futility of bringing a knife to a gunfight.
“What?” Mike asks.
“Nothing,” Dave replies. He thinks about trying to slip his shotgun to him through the open window, but remembers he left it with Ben. Then he considers going back to get it but tosses the idea aside, deciding it wasn’t worth the risk of being seen. Besides, from Mike’s position in the backseat, if he did have the twelve-gauge, he’d be forced to aim above his feet. The risk to the rest of the family and Mike’s toes was simply too great. “Just keep quiet,” Dave tells Mike.
“I guess we can see who the marksman is in your family,” Merriweather says to Zack as he picks up the short, double-barrel shotgun laying at his feet.
Gracey shifts on his feet, causing Ben to adjust his aim again, in hopes for a clearer shot. The slight movement catches a glint of starlight from the end of the muzzle. Zack spots the tiny reflection and sees the silhouette of his brother behind it. He quickly looks away, not wanting to risk drawing the soldiers’ attention in that direction. All he can do is try and buy them enough time to do whatever they have planned, if they have one. He knows he must keep these guys talking and somehow get them to move away from their family so maybe, just maybe they can take these guys down. Something to give his dad and brother the opportunity to make their move. Doing all that without getting any of them killed was the challenge.
“I’m not sure here, dude,” Zack says in reply to Merriweather’s intended taunt. He lets his hands lower, pushing his chances a little further. “Is that supposed to be an insult or something? Like, I don’t get your point. Yeah, she’s a better shot than me. Am I supposed to be embarrassed or something?” he asks, struggling to keep the fear from his tone. Zack casually looks around the group, finally glancing toward the Mercedes and catches a glimpse of his dad’s head on the other side of the SUV before it drops down behind it.
“I would be,” Merriweather answers. Flipping the release, he opens the gun to expose the live shells in each barrel. He plucks them out, slips them in his pocket and tosses the twelve-gauge aside.
“So, are you like, the youngest of three sisters or something?” Zack asks.
“Something like that,” Merriweather replies, before jabbing the butt of his M-4 into Zack’s face. That tactical sling attached to the weapon prevents him from crushing the facial bones, but still drops Zack on his ass. “Not so funny now, are you?” he asks, glaring down at him.
“You must be the youngest sister,” Zack says, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva into the dirt as Pam kneels down next to him. “Because you hit like a little girl,” he adds.
Further angered by the taunt, Merriweather snaps the quick release from his sling and raises the gun over his head to deliver a crushing blow to Zack’s skull. Brigette steps between them, causing him to stop as Zack pulls Pam close, using her to block himself from the view of the soldiers. To everyone else, it looks like he’s hiding behind the women, but nothing could be farther from his mind.
“Dad and Ben are here,” he whispers so only she can hear.
“Do you always let your woman fight your battles?” Merriweather snarls.
“She can kick your ass, Cindy,” Zack replies, keeping Pam between them.
“Maybe, but she’s not going to be able to save you from me,” Merriweather growls, pushing Brigette aside.
Keeping Pam between them, Zack flits his eyes toward the 4x4, letting her know where his dad and brother are and mouths the word, stall. Pam gives him a nearly imperceptible nod before Merriweather shoves her to the side.
Without any further warning, the soldier drives his knee into Zack’s face, bouncing the back of his head against the rear bumper of his car. Stars explode across Zack’s vision as blood erupts from his nose and split lips. Joe catches Pam from sprawling and quickly turns to face Merriweather, but the soldier has his gun aimed at the family, moving the muzzle to each of them with his finger wrapped around the trigger.
“Knock it off, Merriweather!” Gracey shouts, sounding as if the entire scene had grown tiresome.
“We only need to take one of them back for questioning,” Merriweather says, leveling his barrel to point at Zack’s head. “Maybe we should shoot this one to let the others know we mean business.”
“Maybe we should shoot one to let the others know we mean business,” Gracey repeats in a mocking tone. “Maybe you should do like I said and just gather up their weapons and we’ll let the sergeant decide how many he needs for questioning. In fact, speaking of the sergeant. After you’re done collecting their guns we can see, we’re going to need to search them all,” he said.
“That could take a while,” Merriweather says, leering at Brigette.
“Right,” Gracey agrees, staring at Pam’s chest. “We wouldn’t want to risk missing anything.”
“Are you kidding me?” Pam asks, trying to stall as Zack had instructed.
“Not for a second, lady,” Gracey replies, taking another sidestep before returning his attention to his
comrade. “Once we’re sure they’re not armed, you go back to the jeep and radio in. Let Brubaker know where we are and what we found. He’ll want to question them before we…” he says, his words trailing off before pointing toward the Mercedes without taking his eyes from Pam. “There’s still a pistol on the ground over there. Get it.”
“Yeah, fucker,” Zack mumbles around swelling lips. “Go, fetch.”
Merriweather glares at Zack as he clips his M-4 to the sling attached to his tactical vest before starting toward the SUV. He avoids walking directly under the sagging center of the aluminum roof, and Ben contemplates switching targets, now that this one is in the clear. But he dismisses the idea in favor of sticking with the original plan, for the time being. Ben watches his assigned target take another step to the side, moving closer to where Ben has already decided is his kill-zone. The second he enters the space directly to the right side of Zack’s car, Ben plans on putting a 7.62 bullet through his brain. The other soldier is Dave’s problem for now.
Merriweather picks up Joe’s surrendered pistol from the dirt and checks the safety to verify it’s on before ejecting the magazine and clearing the round in the chamber. But he nearly fumbles the gun when his hands immediately grip his M-4, after glancing in the back seat of the Mercedes.
“Holy shit!” he yells, taking two steps back from the SUV. Dave is certain he’s been seen, until Merriweather says, “They, they got a fucking corpse in the back seat.”
“They’ve got a what?” Gracey asks, shuffling his attention between the hostages and his comrade-in-arms. He edges closer to Merriweather as Ben applies a small amount of pressure on the trigger of his Mosin Nagant, keeping Gracey in the center of his open sights.
The F*cked Series (Book 4): Hard Page 12