by Thunboe, Bo
But Erin knew family came first, knew Dan was out of town, and knew an EMP meant the power would not be coming back on.
So at some point yesterday Erin would have decided to head home. Hopefully, that decision came so late in the day that she would decide to wait for the next morning—this morning—to leave Elgin. Dan would get there before she left and bring her home. Safe and sound.
Movement in the front yard. A furtive shape, dark and low, dashing from bush to tree. It stopped in a shaft of moonlight. A coyote. Mary tapped her fingernails on the window glass. Its head lifted and it looked right at her, eyes bright and focused, still as a statue.
Erin looked at things with that same kind of focus. When she went at something, it was all in.
Mary must have blinked because the animal was suddenly gone.
Mary had chaperoned a few tournament trips, so knew how the girls sometimes treated them like sleepovers with movies and popcorn and talking about boys late into the night. If the girls had still been awake when the EMP hit, then the timeline Mary had just imagined could be way off. Erin could have left yesterday morning.
But if she had left that long ago, she would be home by now.
So, she hadn’t.
Dan would find her at the hotel and bring her home. Whatever it took.
Thank God he had that gun.
54
Dan grabbed the woman and pulled her away from the wall. They rolled, a wall of heat flowing over them as the fire chased the open air, bricks clattering down, one slamming into Dan’s back. He gasped, sucking in a hot cloud of ash. He gagged and coughed the grit from his throat. When it was finally gone, he struggled to his knees.
The flames had pulled back into the building chasing fuel.
He stood up, one hand massaging his back where the brick had hit him.
“Hold it!” The woman was already on her feet, gun aimed at Dan’s gut, the raging inferno painting her anger with orange and flickering shadows. “How do you know Julia isn’t inside… that?” She gestured to the collapsed building.
“I pulled her out of there and carried over to Inez’s place.” Dan pointed across the alley.
“You saved her?” The muzzle lowered.
Dan nodded.
“Who started the fire?”
“Those guys out front.”
Marla went to the wrecked corner of the building and peered around it toward the street. She came back a moment later, hands so tight on her gun they were turning white. “I had a run in with those assholes earlier when they were bothering a teenage girl heading home—”
“I’m here looking for a teenage girl. My… daughter.”
“Are you from Weston?”
“Yes! Was—”
“The girl was heading home to Weston.”
“Erin!”
“Yes.”
“Was she alone? Where did you see her?”
Marla pointed west. “A couple blocks over. She was alone. Those same guys out front were harassing her. She laid one out—broke his ribs I think—and I shot one. One of them said he recognized me. This must be revenge.”
“Where is she now? Did she go back to the hotel?”
“I tried to get her to stay here with us, but she headed back to the bike trail and planned to follow it to—”
“I came all the way up here on the trail. I didn’t see her.”
He and Marla both looked toward the front of the building. The men were still out there. Maybe the fire was their second act of revenge. More adrenaline dumped into his system. He headed for the alley. Marla stopped him with a hand on his chest, then looked up at Inez’s apartment, likely feeling the tug of her pending parenthood.
“I’ll go talk to them,” Marla said. “They know me—they’re here for me—and they know I’ll use my gun because I used it on them already.”
“We’ll both go.” Dan took off his gloves and pulled out his gun.
Marla looked at it, then at him, her eyes hard. “Are you willing to use that?”
“I’ve used it twice already.”
“I’ll go around the far side of the building and confront them. Once they’re focused on me, you come up this alley behind them and box them in. Even if they try to run, we should be able to nab one of them.”
Dan looked at her gun, then at his. So small it almost disappeared in his hand. “Okay, but let’s flip roles. I haven’t already shot one of them so they won’t be as quick to shoot me.”
She looked up at Inez’s apartment again and Dan prepared himself to go it alone. But then she turned back, her mouth a hard, grim line. “They need to pay,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
Dan ran to the east side of the building, then down the sidewalk, smoke billowing over the top of the wall. He kept his breathing shallow, worried about inhaling a lungful and coughing away his element of surprise. At the front of the building he crouched and peered around it. Four men. They had pulled some burning timbers from the fire, piled them in the street, and stood around their bonfire warming their hands and sharing a bottle. The harsh light on their faces rippled as the breeze fanned the flames. He didn’t see any guns.
They were all in their twenties and dressed so similarly—jeans, hoodies, patchy beards, and black knit hats—that it looked like a uniform. A gang uniform. If they were in a gang there could be a lot more of them and a gunshot might mobilize reinforcements.
Movement behind the men—Marla getting in position. Dan stood and walked out into the street.
“Hey!”
No response. They probably couldn’t hear him over their own conversation and the roar of the fire. He walked toward them and raised his free hand. “Hey, assholes.”
Conversation stopped. The man with the bottle threw it to the street where it shattered. The four of them fanned out, all facing Dan.
“What did you say?” The fat one stepped forward, his head cocked to the side, then glanced behind him at his three buddies. “This guy got a death wish or something?”
“I need to talk to you about bothering my daughter earlier tonight.” Calling Erin his daughter with these assholes sent a pang of sorrow through Dan. Why had he never called her that when it mattered?
“We don’t bother the ladies,” the skinny one with the weak chin said. “The ladies bother us.”
Dan pointed his gun at Fat Man. “You accosted her while she was travelling—”
“Look at you with your little gun. Let me show you a real gun, bro.” He pulled a gun from behind his back and the other three followed suit. They had him so outgunned they didn’t even bother to aim at him.
Dan swallowed, the revolver’s grip now slippery with sweat. Behind the men, Marla had started edging to the side, likely to avoid shooting Dan accidently if she had to open fire.
“You accosted her, but the woman who owns this coffee shop rescued her.”
“You know that bitch?” Fat Man stepped forward. “She shot Slice. He dead. So that’s our revenge.” He waved at the inferno. “She must have been the bitch yelling who’s now all burned up in there—”
Blam!
The shotgun blasted Fat Man’s head into a grisly spray of blood, bone, and gray matter. It happened in an instant but the afterimage lingered like it had been burned on Dan’s retina.
Dan blinked it away to refocus on the other three men.
Bang!
Dan dropped into a crouch
Bang! Bang!
Chinless had fled, but the other two were crouched, firing wildly. Marla strode forward, racking a fresh shell into her pump-action shotgun.
Bang! Marla spun and fell to the ground. Dan aimed his revolver at the nearest man and fired. The man grunted, looked at Dan, then stood up and ran away, holding his side.
Dan looked around. The other man was already gone.
He rushed to Marla’s side.
55
Sean feigned sleep when his mom came back to the couch. She cried for a while, muffling her sobs in a blanket, but finally quieted.
A few minutes later she started the deep raspy breathing he knew meant she was asleep. He lay on his back and thought about the future. He had read books and had watched enough movies, TV shows, and documentaries about survival that he felt ready for that part of it. Hell, he felt better about that than he had about choosing a career.
But he didn’t feel ready for the violence.
He’d handled those guys who tried to steal from him, and he’d handled Carson, but a lot worse would be coming their way.
We need weapons.
Sean got up as quietly as he could and snuck out to the laundry room to put on his boots. It was cold here, very cold. Their open floor plan was just too much area for the fireplace to warm it all. His mom was right about moving to the Brady’s basement. It had to be less than half the size and was insulated almost completely by the surrounding ground.
He laced up his boots, pulled on his coat, grabbed a flashlight and the key for the Brady house. He’d check out their house and look for any weapons. He went out through the garage. The meat-locker smell was even stronger now. He thumbed on the flashlight and aimed it at the deer. He’d done that. He and Ed.
He left the house and crossed the yards to the Brady’s.
He spent a minute with the cat, then filled its food bowl and got it some water from the back of the toilet tank. There was a skim of ice on it already. In another day or two it would be solid. If they didn’t move into the Brady’s house, they were going to have to bring the cat to theirs.
He went into the lower level. It was a smaller, more confined space, so the fireplace would heat it better and using less wood. And it got plenty of natural light through the patio door that faced the river and a pair of window wells on the south wall.
The fireplace was clean, like it had never been used. He crouched, opened the flue, and shined his light up the chimney. It looked clean and usable. He’d start a fire in it as soon as he brought some wood inside.
He searched the house and garage but found nothing weapon-like, except kitchen knives.
He went back to their own garage and set the flashlight on top of the lawnmower, aimed at the back wall and work bench. He went through it all and found plenty of potential weapons: a machete, eight pocket knives of various sizes, two hand axes, one regular ax, a sledge hammer with a blade on one side, three hammers, a curve-bladed knife Dan once used to slice up carpeting, four box cutters, two heavy metal prybars, and over a dozen screwdrivers, some with points small enough to stab with. He stood back and looked it all over. A good assortment, but all these things required you to be close to whoever you were fighting. It would be much better to have a gun, or at least a bow.
He snatched up the flashlight and went inside and retrieved Erin’s target bow and quiver of arrows from her room. Back in the garage he examined it in the light. It was a longbow without any recurve. The label said draw weight: 20-25 lbs. If it took a draw weight of at least sixty pounds to kill a deer, this bow wouldn’t do much damage to a person. But it should be good for hunting small animals like rabbits and ducks. He set it aside and looked at the deer again. Maybe he and Ed could get another one tomorrow.
But he needed to stick close to home until Dan and Erin got back. His mom was losing it.
56
Dan knelt next to Marla. She was breathing hard, but her eyes were open and locked on his.
“One of those bastards actually shot me.” She sat up and held out her right arm. A rip in her leather jacket was wet with blood. She took her jacket off and they inspected the wound. A graze.
“Just tear off my sleeve and bind it.”
Dan tore off the sleeve of her flannel shirt at the shoulder seam, then wrapped the wound tightly. She winced as he tied it, but said nothing. When he was done, she put her coat back on and got to her feet and picked up the shotgun.
She stepped over to the headless body. A pool of blood draining from the grisly neck stump glistened in the flames.
Marla spat. “That’s my revenge, asshole.”
Dan pulled his eyes off the body. If these men hurt Erin, he would do that or worse, but blowing off the man’s head had ruined their plan.
“We needed to talk with those guys.”
She poked the carcass with the barrel of her gun. “I’ve seen this guy at an old house south of here, back behind the mall.”
“Erin was heading south from your place. I have to check that house.”
Marla looked at Dan, then up the alley to where her wife was in labor. “We have to check it.”
“Thank you.” Her big gun and willingness to use it would be good to have along.
Marla squatted next to the body, then stood up. “Use this gun. More bullets.” She held out the man’s semi-automatic pistol.
Dan pocketed the revolver and took the gun. It was a lot heavier than his, and cold from lying on the pavement. He scanned the gun looking for a safety, but realized it didn’t have one. Or an exposed hammer. “It’s a Glock.”
“Everybody loves a Glock,” Marla said.
He ejected the magazine and counted the bullets—twelve—then put it back in and racked the slide.
“Looks like you know how to use that.”
“The neighborhood gun nut taught me.”
Marla locked her eyes on his. Her gaze was full of an inner steal that gave him confidence. “Follow me.”
She led the way south. Within a block the glow of her burning building faded behind them. They stuck to the sidewalk, up tight against the buildings on the west side of the road. Marla walked slowly, her knees slightly bent, her head swiveling back and forth, turning every few steps to look behind them. Gun tracking her gaze. Dan mimicked her, gun out, switching hands every few minutes to warm the free hand in his coat pocket. Marla’s movements looked so practiced and fluid he suspected she’d been in the military at one time.
Marla stopped before crossing a wide intersection where three streets converged. She pointed with her gun. “I directed Erin to go down that sidewalk to the trail. These assholes live in a house maybe a mile south of here, on Wellington.”
“Okay,” Dan said.
Marla pointed north. “That’s where your daughter ran into those scum bags. She took one of them down but they had her surrounded and were working themselves up to… do something, when I got there.”
“I’m glad you were there for her.” Erin was tough, but a street fight against a pack of men wasn’t what she trained for.
Glass broke behind them. They crouched and spun. A strong gust of wind and the sound of thick fabric flapping.
When the sound died away, Marla led the way south. They saw no one, but heard more glass breaking and men hooting several times. They cut diagonally across a giant parking lot by the casino, darted across a wide street, then squatted in the moon shadow of a small historical building labeled as the Watch Factory Depot.
“That’s Wellington. Their house is just a couple blocks south.” She looked at him “Are you up for this?”
Dan licked his lips. “I am.”
Marla walked down the middle of the street, her steps springy and silent. Dan followed, emulating her stealthy walk and alertness. Two blocks on she stopped. “It’s the second house after the next corner. “Maybe we can find a spot to observe them before going in.”
Going in. Dan regripped the Glock, his hand suddenly damp. He switched hands and wiped his hand on his jeans as he followed Marla. When they got to the next corner, they mounted the sidewalk. A retaining wall held back land that rose up to the left. Knee high here, its height increased as they crept along it.
Cigarette smoke wafted over them.
“Where you two headed?”
57
Dan and Marla froze. The hot glow of a burning ember appeared through a thin veil of winter-bared bushes.
“Standing still don’t make you invisible, you know.” It was a woman’s voice, thick and phlegmy. “You ain’t but five feet away.”
The woman sat deep in the shadow under her por
ch roof. She sounded old, her voice shaky. Dan waited for Marla to say something—this was her town—but she didn’t.
“We’re looking for a teenage girl—my daughter.” If he ever got her back, he would never call Erin anything else. “We know the men who live in the house behind you were bothering her earlier tonight.” The clouds cleared and the increased light revealed a heavily bundled shape in a chair. The form moved back and forth and he heard rockers creaking the porch boards.
“Don’t surprise me none. Ever since the power went out them boys, and not just them but the whole lot of them types, have been taking ‘vantage. Gotta guard my house, my own self. Cops all ran home to their own houses, I ‘spect.”
“Have you seen them tonight?”
“Three of ‘em come by here a bit ago. One of ‘em wasn’t moving too good.” She pulled in a strong draw on her cigarette, talking around the smoke as she blew it out. “They didn’t see me at all.”
“How about a couple hours ago. Did you see them drag a girl in there?”
“No, but seen ‘em carry home one of their own. They was crying and carrying on about whatever happened to him.”
“I’m what happened to him,” Marla said.
“Were you now? Maybe you should join me on my porch here.”
“How many of them are there?”
“Six. I keep track of my neighbors. You can be sure on that.”
“If the first guy I shot died, they’re now down two,” Marla said. “And your daughter broke the ribs on the one they carried home and you shot one.”
“They have guns and even injured guys can pull a trigger,” Dan said.
“We all got guns.” The old woman waved a long-barreled revolver. She cackled, which turned into a cough. She immediately took a long drag on her cigarette as if it was the cure.