Valley of Reckoning

by N A Broadley

  Beth’s good leg shook with fatigue. She peeled off her gown, gloves, and mask and sat on a chair in the corner of the room. Mary Anne sat beside her on another chair, waiting for the next patient to be carried in on the stretcher.

  “Are you gonna be okay to do this next one or should we wait for Doc?”

  Beth grimaced and nodded. The night gave way to early dawn. The shadows receded and weak light filtered through the window.

  “Just need to give my leg a moment then I’ll be ready to go,” she replied. She took a sip of the coffee Delilah brought to her. Mary Anne served as Beth’s helper. She didn’t have medical experience, but between the two of them, they were managing quite well. The door banging open served to tell Beth that break time was over. Doc finished up with Elroy, and the prognosis looked grim. He now worked tiredly on Thomas Greene who took a bullet in the knee, shattering the bone. Although he did his best to put the pieces back together only time would tell if Thomas, or Tommy as everyone called him, would be able to keep his lower leg. The hospital infirmary had a considerable amount of supplies, equipment, and medicine but not everything a full surgical unit would have. And rebuilding a knee was tricky even in the best of times, which this certainly wasn’t.

  Beth spent the next four hours alternating between standing on one leg, and sitting, resting while waiting for the next patient. She groaned at the deep burn in her hip each time she climbed back to her feet. Although exhausted, she felt a sense of accomplishment and joy that she’d been strong enough to be able to contribute to those who did so much to help her, Sarah, and Brian. With a yawn, she washed her hands.

  “I’m gonna be glad to lie down and get off of my feet for a while,” she murmured. Jill, Mary Anne, and Doc all nodded in agreement. It had been a long night for all of them.

  “Do you need some pain medication?” Doc asked. Beth shook her head. She’d make a cup of herbal tea. It would help her sleep and provide anti-inflammatory actions. She hated the drugs she’d been on after her surgery but knew the importance of them. They did help her through the worst of the pain of her own surgery.

  Stopping on the way to her room, she checked in on Sarah. Jessie lay next to her bed and lifted her head when Beth entered the room.

  “She’s still sleeping, eh, girl?”

  Sarah’s voice startled her when she spoke from out of the darkness.

  “No, I’ve been awake for a while. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, baby girl, I’m fine. Just tired,” Beth replied.

  Sarah nodded.

  “Jill stopped in. I wanted to help, but she made me stay in bed.”

  Beth laughed. She could see in her mind's eye, Jill’s stern expression. The woman was a force to be reckoned with for sure.

  “She’s right. You’ve lost a lot of blood and are still weak. You need to rest.”

  She laughed when Sarah rolled her eyes.

  “And look who’s talking, gimpy!” Sarah replied. Beth bent and tousled her hair and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “You have a beautiful voice, baby girl. I love hearing it. Please don’t ever go silent on me again,” she whispered into her ear. Sarah smiled. Beth straightened up and sighed. She pulled the blankets and tucked them around her.

  “I’ll see you in a few hours. I need to get some shut eye. You listen to Jill!” she teased as she turned and made her way to her bed.

  ∞

  Bobby stumbled through the dark, tripping over roots, brush, and fallen logs. The ambush had dealt him a hard blow, and he wondered how his men fared. The woods sang with the night creatures around him. The moon slipped in and out of clouds. How long had he been walking? He lost track of time and didn’t know. The plan had gone FUBAR. His stomach ached with tension, and his nerves sang on the edge of hysteria. He plowed ahead in the dark, batting branches out of his way. He winced at the sting as they scratched bloody lines into his bare arms. His breath roared from his lungs. He fought the terrain. Every step brought pain. Shadows, dark and menacing, haunted him from behind every tree. No direction, no clear path, just running to get away. He knew if the compound’s men found him; they would kill him. Fear ripped into his throat and he struggled to hold back a scream. Ghosts chased him, demons of regret, of anger, all his doubts, haunting him.

  “I told you, boy. You’re a loser, worthless, a coward!” his mother's voice sang. With an anguished cry, he clapped both hands over his ears and stumbled over a rock, falling to his knees. He felt the warmth of blood soaking his pant leg.

  “I am not! I am not worthless!” he moaned. Snot and tears ran down his face. Picking himself up, he drew a deep breath. His mother was dead. She couldn’t hurt him anymore. But in his heart, he knew. She would never stop hurting him. That had been his life with her. All the beatings, the verbal abuse, the cruel taunting he got from her came back to haunt him each time the silence crept in. He wished he could scrub his mind clean of her and his old man. He wished he could turn back time and kill them both again and again until he cleansed himself of the memories.

  Pushing himself along, he let the darkness swallow him. He may be down, but he wasn’t out. He could recoup from this. He just needed to make it back to Lee. Once there, he’d start over with the twenty-five men he’d left behind. Once they hooked up with the Alliance, then he’d make the compound pay for what they’d done. But first, he needed to get home. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his aching legs forward.

  “Boy, you never learn, do ya? There ain’t no one in their right mind gonna follow a loser, a coward like you. Once they find out what a coward you are, they’ll turn on you. They will rip you apart like a pack of hungry hyenas. You should lie down here in these woods and die, just like you let your baby brother die!” his father's voice shouted. Bobby grimaced and stopped long enough to pull a little baggie of cocaine from his pants pocket. Shoving a snort up his nose, he let the drug drive the voices away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When the first light broke over the night sky, Brian crawled out from his sleeping bag on the ground and rolled it up. With a soft groan, he threw the saddle back onto his horse. His breath puffed white in the chilly early morning air. He looked around at the sleeping group and at the fire that had burned down to low embers. Silently, careful to not wake anyone, he grabbed the horse’s reins and led it up the road a bit before climbing into the saddle. A cough from behind him made him sigh in frustration.

  “Ya didn’t think I’d let you go off by yourself now, did ya?” Spike asked. He nudged his horse up alongside Brian.

  With a shrug of his shoulders, Brian swore softly. “Just ain’t no getting rid of you is there?”

  Spike laughed. “Nope, not a chance buddy. I want a piece of him too. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

  With a soft kick, Brian set off, jumping over the ditch and climbing the hill where he’d seen Bobby running off. Even if the man traveled through the night, Brian knew he probably hadn’t gotten far. Five or six miles at the most. Brian intended to get a head start trailing him. Alone. It irritated him that Spike seemed one step ahead of him with this idea.

  “They need your help with the town. I don’t need you,” Brian snapped.

  “No, but I need to see this Bobby character finished! It isn’t just about what you need; he took my family too, remember?”

  Guilt tugged at Brian’s gut. He hadn’t thought about that. All he’d thought about was his hatred for the man. He hadn’t given one thought to what agony his friend had been going through. Yes, it was Bobby’s men who’d viciously and savagely killed Spikes family.

  “I’m sorry, man,” he murmured.

  Spike nodded. “You aren’t the only one that has a stake in this dog fight.”

  The trail Bobby left was easy to follow for the experienced eyes of both Spike and Brian. He gave the bastard credit; he was moving fast. A broken branch, a scrape on a moss-covered log alerted Brian that he veered off northwest. Puzzled, he stopped. Northwest would take him away from Lee, not toward it. Follo
wing Bobby’s trail another mile or so, Brian stopped, slid down off the horse and knelt beside a scuffled area in the leaf litter. He spied several drops of blood on the ground. Looking over to his left, he saw a small, discarded baggie with remnants of white powder clinging to the plastic. He shot a glance up at Spike and shook his head, grimacing.

  “Our boy is higher than the proverbial kite.” He waved the tiny baggie in the air and chuckled. Spike smiled and shook his head. It answered the question that had been nagging him. Why Bobby’s trail had been weaving to and fro like a drunken sailor on payday? The man was jacked up; that’s why.

  The trail veered back to the south and Brian squinted riding into the glare of the sun. It was apparent Bobby was lost, and Brian shook his head and laughed as he followed it. He gazed up at the blue sky overhead through the heavy canvas of leafy branches. They’d been on Bobby’s trail for several hours. Turning in the saddle, he motioned for Spike.

  “It’s a good time to take a break.”

  Spike nodded. His back felt like a mule had kicked it, and his ass was burning from the rub of the saddle. Sweat trickled down his back and into the crack of his ass. Black flies bit at him without mercy, he swatted them away, but they were relentless.

  “Yeah, I’m starving, man.”

  Pulling his horse to a stop, he climbed down from the saddle. He dug into his saddlebag for two sandwiches which he’d grabbed the night before, along with two plastic bottles of the sweet tea. He had an idea that Brian would set out, so he’d prepared. Tossing one to Brian, he sat on a log and bit into his own. Thick peanut butter and sweet jelly, his favorite. His stomach growled noisily. Between bites, he mumbled.

  “He can’t be that much further ahead of us.”

  Brian nodded.

  “I agree, keep your head on a swivel. He still has a gun, and he’d think nothing of blowing either one of our heads clean off,” Brian warned. Spike let out a chuckle and he tipped his head back and took a deep draw from the bottle of sweet tea. He moaned with pleasure.

  Would he kill Bobby if he got the chance? Thinking of his wife and children, a chill ran down his spine. Yeah, he would take pleasure in killing him. And he knew soon he’d have his chance.

  He hadn’t always been this man. As a cop, he’d taken his oath to protect and serve very seriously. He’d always followed the rules. Even when he’d watched as the same criminals skirted the law. Ones he had arrested repeatedly, time and time again; he’d still followed the rules, fully and completely. But the event, Bobby, and his men, they all changed that. The old laws no longer applied in this new world. Now…the only law was to survive, and to do it by taking down any who posed a threat to that survival.

  Hatred burned in his heart like a match to kerosene; explosive and consuming. Memories of his beautiful wife’s eyes, staring at him, vacant and accusing. The blood, all over her body, from what Bobby’s animals did to her. And his two boys, innocent and murdered. The memory made him lose his appetite, and he wrapped his half-eaten sandwich back up and tossed it into the saddlebag. He saw Brian’s questioning glance and turned his face away. Tears tugged at the corners of his eyes.

  “You bout ready?” he asked. He climbed into the saddle, not waiting for an answer.

  They followed Bobby’s trail long into the afternoon. Brian let his mind wander. The woods, the crisp air, and the rocking motion of the horse lulled him into a relaxed state. When the sound of a gunshot echoed in his ears, it startled him, damn near stopping his heart.

  He dove from his horse, hitting the ground. Crawling quickly, he took cover behind a fallen log. Peering out, he released a pent-up breath. Spike did the same as he hid behind a large pine tree. He met Spike’s gaze and made a motion with his hand. Spike nodded that he understood; crouching low, he made his way off to the left and into the woods. Brian crawled, staying behind the thick cover of the brush and trees. He made his way to the right.

  Flanking the shooter, Brian spied Bobby curled up behind a large boulder, and Spike, out about a hundred yards or so, moving in on him from behind. He took a shot, knowing he wouldn’t hit him but keeping Bobby’s attention to the front. Spike moved in closer while Brian watched from behind a tree.

  “I got him!”

  Brian stood and walked toward where Spike held his gun on Bobby. The man looked pitiful. His eyes were glazed over and wild. Vomit soaked the front of his shirt. His weapon lay empty across his lap. His face, bright red with sweat and fear. A cloud of black flies swarmed around the man’s face and head. He sat with his back against the boulder, his leg lay twisted and bent at an odd angle. Brian swallowed back a roll of nausea when he saw the white splinter of bone sticking up through the leg, in an ooze of blood and flesh.

  Shaking his head, he looked at Spike and grinned. “Well, well. Ain’t this a sweet turn of events.” His eyes shone cold.

  He glanced back down at Bobby. Weak sun filtered down through the trees, bouncing off the tears in Bobby’s eyes.

  Spike nodded at Brian and smiled. He looked down upon the pathetic wreck before him. Tears streamed down Bobby’s face and he clutched his leg, writhing in pain. He glared up at them both with hatred.

  “You won’t shoot an injured, unarmed man,” he hissed. Spittle flew from his lips, and his hands clutched at the leaf litter on the ground.

  “No, I ain’t planning on shooting ya,” Brian said, then grinned. He pulled his knife from its sheath. The blade glinted in the sunlight, a wicked indication of what he planned to do. He laughed when he saw Bobby’s eyes widen in terror. Glancing at Spike, he saw disgust in his eyes.

  “Brian.” Spike murmured.

  Brian shot him an angry glance. He could hear his own heartbeat, as hatred and bloodlust made his hands shake with want—the knife beckoning to him to complete what he’d set out to do. Moving in closer, he brought the knife down to Bobby’s throat, and ever so lightly, he slid the blade across it while staring into his terrified eyes. He jerked his head up when Spike shouted at him.

  “Brian, he’s as good as dead already. Don’t become the same animal he is!” Spike snapped. He couldn’t believe he was saying it. His lust for this man’s blood was as intense if not stronger than Brian’s. He wouldn’t allow himself to be a murderer though.

  “He’s dying. Can’t you see that? Why make it quicker for this piece of trash? He will suffer long and hard if we walk away. Let the coyotes have him.” Spike said. He looked down at Bobby. He saw the man’s eyes widen in shock as the truth of what he said hit home.

  “No, you can’t! You can’t leave me here to die like that!” Bobby screamed.

  Spike smiled; his eyes cold with hatred.

  “Oh yes, we can,” he purred softly.

  “Please. Please.” Bobby begged then started sobbing. His begging and crying fell on deaf ears.

  Brian shook his head, what Spike said made sense. If they left him, he’d die slowly and painfully. He couldn’t go anywhere with his leg shattered. He was sick; he was weak. The coyotes would smell the stench of his weakness, and they would move in for the easy prey. His hands shook with temptation and he slid the knife back into its sheath. Bobby, seeing this, snickered through watery eyes.

  “You ain’t got the balls,” he spat challenging him. His eyes glistened with hatred and insanity as he howled with laughter. Brian turned his back and stared out into the darkening woods. His mouth burned with dryness and his hands opened and closed as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He wanted to rip and tear into Bobby, to make him suffer endlessly for what he’d done to Sarah, Beth and all the others he’d hurt. Sucking in a deep breath, he cast a disgusted look at him. It took every ounce of willpower to still the rage inside of him.

  “I had her, you know. That mute, sweet little piece of ass? I hurt her in ways that you couldn’t even imagine, and she begged me for more.” Bobby hissed then chuckled, goading Brian on. “Then I gave her to my men, and they took turns with her too. I left a stain on that girl's soul that she will never be able to wash of
f.”

  Brian winced. The words hit him, their bite as sharp as a sword. He turned when he heard a thud, then a grunt, as Spike drove his fist into Bobby’s face.

  “You’re not worth it, man! Not worth the blood staining my hands to kill you.” Spike said, his lips curling into a snarl as he crouched down and stared into Bobby’s eyes. “You are gonna die hard. When those animals are ripping into you, and you feel their teeth against your skin when you smell their breath as they are eating you alive? That’s dying hard, man. And you deserve every misery you suffer.” Turning, he nodded to Brian.

  “Let’s go, man. We’ve wasted enough time on this piece of trash.”

  With that, both Spike and Brian walked away to the sounds of Bobby’s screams of rage and terror ringing in their ears.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Roger slid into the saddle and guided the horse off from the road. To get to Lee in decent time, they would be making their way through the woods; along trails that would cut both miles and travel time by hours. Mitch Smalley rode beside him, and the rooster followed not far behind. Roger shook his head and laughed. They didn’t have time to talk much yesterday about Mitch’s travels. Today they would have plenty of time to catch up. The sun warmed his shoulders and back, the air heavy with the scent of rotted leaves and pungent pine.

  It didn’t surprise him when he woke up to find Spike and Brian gone. It surprised him they didn’t leave the night before to hunt Bobby down.

  They had hit Bobby’s gang hard, wiping most of them out, taking the few that remained as prisoners. His stomach had turned nauseously at the information he’d gleaned from his interrogations. Bobby, the gang leader, had been quite busy these past few months. And his business not only meant a whole lot of trouble for those small towns nearest Lee. This also meant a whole lot of trouble for Roger and his compound.

  He’d found out from one particularly chatty prisoner, David, who had gladly spilled his guts at the sight of Roger’s knife when he held it against his throat, about the plans of Bobby and the Alliance: about the tanker trucks that were moving into the northeast, loaded with fuel and weapons; about the convergence of two very well-known and nasty gangs escorting the trucks; about the plans for a complete take over to create a new territory run by them.