by Connor Mccoy
“How touching.” Again, Kurt sounded disgusted, but Conrad thought he detected a whiff of regret or wistfulness in Kurt’s voice. The gunman may have resembled a monster, but he still was a human being, one who had experienced a horrific tragedy. It seemed doubtful he could be reasoned with, but it may not be totally impossible.
And then, Kurt stood up to full height.
“I’m sorry to say, Mister Drake, but compassion and mercy are a foreign thing to me now,” Kurt said.
Conrad looked up, and found Kurt standing in the shadow of the porch. The gunman’s left hand aimed a gun to the bush where Camilla was hiding.
“In a few seconds, I will shoot one of you. I do not know which one I shall choose. I will be as random as Fate itself. So, now the table is set. You or your ladyfriend will have to kill me before I kill one of you. Perhaps Fate or your god will decide who lives and dies today.”
Conrad’s heartrate quickened. There was no room for hesitation. He had to expose himself and take out this monster once and for all.
He jumped out from the right side, thinking he might have the best chance to nail Kurt. But as he stood up and got a good look at Kurt in the porch, he found the gunman’s right hand already was extended in his direction.
Kurt fired both at the bush and at Conrad.
The whole moment transpired in an instant. Camilla opened fire from the bush. Conrad fired one shot. Kurt squeezed off a shot from both hands.
Kurt, Conrad and Camilla all cried out, with Conrad and Kurt each hitting the ground. Intense pain shot up Conrad’s left arm. Kurt had nailed him, but not in any vital organ.
“Camilla!” Conrad shouted. He flexed his fingers of his right hand. He had dropped his gun! “Dammit!” He looked around for the weapon.
He found it near the edge of the porch. He grabbed it, but the pain was seizing him hard. Then he looked up at where Kurt had been standing. The gunman was gone. A trail of blood drops led back around the house.
At the same time, Camilla popped out of the bush, holding her shoulder. “Kurt!” She winced. “We got to stop him!”
Chapter Twenty
Liam panted. His quarry had gotten away. Or perhaps he just was hiding somewhere in the living room?
The bright flash and loud bang from the grenade had successfully disoriented the three men. Liam, Sarah and Tom quickly dashed through the nearby door and took out one of the men. The remaining two broke off into opposite ends of the house. Sarah and Tom took off after the one headed for the den, while Liam pursued the other, who had fled for the living room.
After a brief shooting battle, Liam had lost track of his target. The young Drake kept flat against the hallway wall as he peered into the living room. Kurt’s henchman could be hiding behind the couch, or maybe crouched down along the wall.
Wish I had a second flash grenade on me, Liam thought. Another grenade would smoke out Liam’s target, wherever he was.
Liam then turned to the front doorway. The front door lay open while the screen door was closing back into the doorframe. “Of course,” Liam mouthed soundlessly. The man obviously wanted to escape.
Liam was inclined to allow the man to escape. Assuming, of course, that Kurt’s man did want to flee the property altogether and not just take up a position outside to pelt the house with bullets. So, Liam had to make sure. He rushed to the screen door, then flung it open. The front door remained open, allowing Liam an unobstructed path out to the porch.
No one fired a shot his way. Liam poked his head out, looking to the left and the right.
To the left, he discovered nothing. To the right, he was greeted with a black-gloved fist that flew to his face so quickly Liam had no time to turn his gun on the assailant.
The blow hit Liam hard, sending him slamming into the doorframe. But his assailant wasn’t the henchman he was pursuing. Instead, he was accosted by a shorter man dressed in a coat and a hat.
Liam had no time to ponder the change in his opponent, for Hunter was about to throw another punch. Liam ducked and rolled out of the way. Then he realized his hands were free. He had dropped the rifle when Hunter hit him.
Damn! Liam raced to the rifle lying on the deck, and kicked it out of the way before Hunter could grab it. The weapon sailed across the deck and dropped off the side. Hunter turned his full attention on Liam. His hands were empty.
“No gun?” Liam quickly patted the side of his head where Hunter had struck it.
“Unnecessary,” Hunter replied as he spread his arms in a fighting stance.
Liam and Hunter circled each other. “Why do I think you just emptied out your ammo already? You guys really are poor shots.”
“I give you credit for devising such ruthless tactics. A shame you are not working for us,” Hunter said.
“Screw off. I have family to protect, and I wouldn’t be caught dead working for shitheads like you,” Liam retorted.
“A shame, but no matter. The Phoenix shall burn bright this day,” Hunter said.
“What? You’re talking about your boss?” Liam asked.
“Indeed. This ranch belongs to him now, and I will deliver it to him over the corpses of all who live here,” Hunter replied.
Liam shook his head. “Damn. You’re one sick bastard. You sound like you worship the guy.”
“Perhaps,” Hunter said. “Perhaps in this life, you make your own Heaven or Hell.”
Hunter then lunged at Liam. He was quick. Liam only dodged him by an inch. Liam tried throwing another punch, but Hunter jumped away just in time. Liam might be stronger, but Hunter had greater agility, even with that coat on. Whoever this man was, he evidently had some training in hand-to-hand combat. Liam realized he might be outclassed by this guy if he didn’t put him down quickly.
But there seemed to be no chance of that happening. And when Hunter kicked Liam hard in the stomach, Liam’s chances seemed to be headed for zero. The pain was so intense Liam couldn’t do anything but catch his breath.
Hunter then reached into his coat. The henchman pulled out a small handgun. “I’m afraid you were quite wrong,” Hunter said. “I had one more tucked away.” Then he aimed his weapon at Liam.
But before Hunter could squeeze the trigger, Carla burst from the front door, wielding a rifle. It was just enough to stop Hunter in his tracks to assess the new threat that emerged before him.
Carla was at the ready, squeezing the trigger three times. One struck the fence close to Hunter’s ear. Another impaled Hunter in the upper torso. A third struck the porch, kicking up small shards of wood that hit Hunter in the leg.
Kurt’s henchman shouted in pain. Dropping his gun, he quickly fell backward, landing hard on the deck. Liam then turned to see his girlfriend rushing toward him with a rifle. Darber followed, similarly armed.
“Carla!” Liam laughed with relief, but some outrage bubbled up inside him as well. “What are you doing here?”
“I got bored,” Carla replied. Beside her, Darber was looking back and forth up the side of the house with his own rifle in hand. “What’s the story?” she asked.
“Most of them are taken out, but we still have maybe one or two left. Kurt chased after Dad. We got to find—”
Suddenly, a shot rang out. With a shout, Carla lurched forward. Only by falling against the front wall of the house did she manage not to slam onto the porch.
“Carla!” Liam screamed.
“No!” Darber ran toward her.
Kurt stood a few feet away on the edge of the porch with a handgun, fresh smoke pouring from the barrel.
The whole scene instantly replayed in Liam’s mind. Carla had been shot in the back, somewhere in the back. The bullet did not exit, at least not anywhere that Liam had seen. The shot seemed to be above Carla’s abdomen. It did not seem to hit her heart.
Liam could not be sure. He chose to believe it. The one thing he was sure of was that he was going to tear Kurt Marsh’s head from his body.
However, Kurt reacted much quicker. He turned the gun ar
ound and smashed in Liam’s nose with it. The force dropped Liam to the porch floor like a bag of cement.
Kurt aimed his gun at Liam’s face and spoke a word, but Liam could not hear it. The world around him was just a loud hum, and the ground beneath him spun. He could sit up, but that was all. The only other thing he was sure of was that Darber was tending to Carla.
But then a loud shout of “Kurt!” followed by a swiftly moving shadow from the right drew Kurt’s attention. Gunfire erupted from somewhere near the porch’s right hand side. But Kurt didn’t drop.
Then Liam discovered why. Camilla stood there, leaning against the porch banister with a rifle in her hand. But Hunter had jumped in front of Kurt and spread out his arms, giving him the widest possible profile. The lackey had taken every shot for Kurt.
Hunter trembled, but did not fall yet. Instead, Kurt took hold of him before he fell. With so much of Hunter’s face covered, no one could see any expression of agony.
“Son of a bitch,” Liam whispered.
Kurt gazed at Hunter with widening eyes, as if to ask “Why?”
Hunter spoke something in a croaking voice, but it was unintelligible. The henchman then lost all strength. Kurt allowed Hunter to drop to the ground. He landed in a sitting position, propped against Kurt’s legs. Kurt then stepped aside and allowed the man to drop onto his side. Hunter did not breathe again.
Conrad then hobbled into view. “Unbelievable,” he said. Kurt just looked down at his feet. The man seemed shocked by what had happened, which sparked some additional irritation in Conrad.
“What’s the matter?” Conrad asked. “I thought you preferred to have your men give their lives for you? Is this supposed to be shocking or something?”
“I remembered,” Kurt said, “a time past, when I called other men friends.” He looked up at Conrad and Camilla. His eyes seemed different now. The brown in his pupils seemed deeper, more focused. “For a brief moment, I thought of Hunter as such a friend.”
“You really believe that?” Darber asked. “You think he felt genuine friendship for you? That town was at your feet. Everyone feared you. I don’t think there was a soul there who cared for you.”
Kurt then groaned. His pant legs were becoming redder. His gunshot wounds were bleeding out, and badly. It was clear he had taken multiple hits back at the porch. Kurt had to spread out his left leg just to brace himself and remain standing.
“That woman. She will live?” Kurt asked Darber.
“A good chance, I hope, though I also have to worry about her unborn baby.” Darber narrowed his eyes. “Conrad’s grandchild.”
Kurt’s bottom lip dropped open, before he curled it up in a smile. “I see. So, I’ve shot a pregnant woman?” Then he turned to Conrad. “So, Mister Conrad, gentle as a lamb or as savage as a wolf? Tell me, would you offer mercy now?”
Conrad’s eyes locked on Kurt. “Get Carla inside. Save her life. Save my grandchild,” he said, to no one in particular.
Liam, Sarah and Tom helped Darber with Carla, leaving only Camilla outside with Conrad and Kurt.
“So, let’s settle this.” Kurt raised his gun only slightly. “I wish I could say this would be a fair contest. But, I barely can stand as it is, and my right arm’s feeling numb. You would have to go to great effort to save my life. Even with what I’ve done to you and your family, you might actually try to do it.”
Kurt raised his gun, but then turned the barrel upward. “Sadly, as I said before...” Now Kurt’s breathing sounded labored. “I can’t entertain mercy any longer, not even for myself.”
Then he turned the gun to the side of his head and pulled the trigger.
Conrad’s eyes fixed on everything that followed, from Kurt’s gun dropping from his fingers, to Kurt’s whole body dropping down onto the grass. Then he glanced in Camilla’s direction. Her eyes were wide with shock.
“I don’t get it. Why’d he do it? He didn’t want you to take him alive?” Camilla asked.
Conrad hobbled over to Kurt’s body. “For a moment, he became human again. I think that was too much for him.” He glanced back at Camilla. “When a monster gets his soul back, it’s hard to go back to being a monster.”
Clutching her wounded shoulder, Camilla glanced over at Hunter’s bullet-riddled body. “I wish I could believe these two were human, but I’ll never believe it. Nobody with a conscience could do all this.”
Conrad gripped his arm. “Well, only God’s going to make that determination now.” He turned to the door. “Let’s hurry inside or we’ll bleed out all over the deck. And we got to help Carla.”
As Camilla walked beside Conrad, he cast a brief glance at her. “You saved me back there. You were right about having someone share the burden.”
Camilla opened the front door. “You think maybe you’ll finally think about the ‘m’ word?”
Conrad pushed the door all the way open. “Maybe,” he said as Camilla walked through the door past him.
Find out what happens in part four available now!
Copyright © 2018 by Connor McCoy
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter One
“Over here!” shouted the doctor as the three adults behind him helped the wounded lady through the house to the living room. Like most doctors, Doctor Ronald Darber understood that time was of the essence for any life-threatening injury. It was doubly important when the wounded person also happened to be pregnant.
Darber yanked open the couch, unfolding the bed tucked inside, just in time for Carla Emmet to be placed on top of it. She yelped in pain as she was laid down. Darber instantly reached for his bag. He had tucked it away by the couch before he joined the fight for this homestead. He couldn’t haul around this medicine bag in the middle of a gun battle, but he always knew where it would be and could grab it if needed.
A gun battle. That was the last thing Ron Darber had expected to wind up involved in. But the times had changed, and this small town doctor now was a battlefield medic.
Sarah Sandoval applied pressure on the bleeding wound with a folded cloth. Darber quickly fished for his tools. Antiseptic was needed. A bullet penetrating the skin could wreak all sorts of havoc inside the body and had to be dealt with. However, calamity also could result from the wound becoming infected. Cleansing the wound was a top priority.
Darber placed the open bag on the small end table by the couch. As he slid on a pair of plastic blue gloves, he couldn’t help but recall the prime reason Carla was shot. It was all on his account.
This ranch, lying just off State Road 22, was viciously assaulted by a man named Kurt Marsh. The madman ruled the town of Davies with an iron fist, and detested the idea of anyone leaving his employ, especially Ronald Darber, Kurt’s own personal doctor. To Kurt, the townspeople were his to do with as he wished. For the crime of defecting to Conrad Drake’s homestead, Kurt vowed there would be blood. But Darber had not informed Conrad of Kurt’s despotic reign in Davies. Only when a trio of Kurt’s men arrived on Conrad’s doorstep did the truth come out.
As Darber worked, he prayed hard that his omission did not lead to loss of life. No, he couldn’t think about that happening. There was no time for self-loathing with two lives at risk.
With the bottle of antiseptic now on the small table, Darber fished out a pair of tweezers. They were sanitized. Darber made sure of it before he packed them away. “Tom, boil me some water. Sarah, get the antiseptic ready.” Then he leaned over Carla. “Carla, this is going to hurt mightily, but I have no choice. Sedation’s out of the question, so you’re going to definitely feel this.”
Tears streamed down the young woman’s face. She struggled just to spit out her words. “Just…do it…for my baby.”
Darber vowed to work fast. The longer this
lasted, the weaker Carla would get. Soon she might not be in any condition to handle surgery as hasty as this.
Beside her, Liam grasped her hand. “I’m here, baby,” he said.
“Hold her tight.” Darber would delay no longer. He inserted the tools into the wound and probed for the bullet.
Carla screamed loud and hard.
Darber gritted his teeth, ignoring the screams as he worked. As if by a miracle, he successfully extracted a small piece of metal from Carla’s body. It was definitely the bullet, and to Darber’s great relief, it had not shattered inside Carla. That meant there were no remaining metal fragments inside of her. At least he hoped not. Without an X-ray machine to work with, he possessed no sure way to locate bullet fragments in a human body.
“Now we clean the wound and bind it,” Darber said. “Sarah, pour on the antiseptic!”
Sarah opened the bottle and administered the liquid. Carla cried out even more. Liam held her tightly. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re going to make it. You’re going to make it.”
Carla let out a loud cry. Sarah, who was also Liam’s mother, fought back tears. Darber didn’t know her well, but imagined the lady, a former suburbanite who fled to this ranch after being imprisoned in her home town by a ruthless warlord, was having a hard time weathering this crisis. Tom, who had returned with the water, put up a braver front.
“We all came from different worlds before this,” Darber thought. Tom was a computer consultant. Sarah was his girlfriend. Liam and Carla were college students. And Darber was a doctor in a small town.
Then their whole world turned upside down when a flare from the sun struck the Earth’s atmosphere and fried all unprotected electronics with an electromagnetic pulse. Cars and trucks came to sudden stops on the road. Computers went dark, never to be lit up again. Refrigerators and freezers stopped working, their contents spoiling within hours. The whole modern infrastructure of the United States, and perhaps the whole world, was shut down, throwing humankind backward in time a few hundred years. Now food, water, shelter, even security, were things to be fought for day by day.