by Ray Wench
“I’ll trade myself for them. You let them go and I’ll give myself up.”
He heard whispering, but it wasn’t enough to tell him anything, other than there were at least two of them.
“This ain’t no negotiation. The only chance they got of living is for you to give up.”
“You’re just gonna kill us all anyway.”
An evil laugh erupted from within. “Yeah, well, you’re dead for sure. But I’ll tell you, we may keep the woman alive. She’s a bit old, but she’s still got some use left.” He laughed again. “And I got a guy who likes young boys so I might spare him too. What’s it gonna be?”
“Damn,” he muttered. Maybe being shot would be a better choice than allowing Darren to spend his life as some pervert’s sex toy. He sucked in a deep breath. “All right, here’s my gun.” He tossed it through the window. “I’m coming in.”
Taking the knife from its sheath, he stuck it in his pants under his shirt and threw the sheath away. He replaced the backup gun in his belt outside the shirt and over the knife. They would no doubt search him, if they didn’t just shoot him as soon as he walked inside. Hopefully, the gun would conceal the knife.
“You come in slow with your hands out in front of you. I want to see hands first, or I shoot right away.”
Mark did as instructed. He showed his hands in the doorway then stepped in slowly. One solid-looking man waited in the kitchen to the left, his arm bandaged with some torn clothing. The wound had bled through. On the floor behind him was the body of Buddy. Mark hoped the dog got in some vicious bites before he went down.
Using the gun, he motioned Mark forward. Seeing the gun as Mark went by, he lunged forward and snatched it from Mark’s belt. Mark jumped, not so much from the move, but because the contact caused the knife to slice his skin. He turned, facing the killer to keep the bulge of the knife from view.
“Look what I found,” he exalted, as if he had found buried treasure. He pushed Mark into the dining room. “He was trying to sneak in with a gun.” He held the weapon up like he had to prove his statement. He brought it down on Mark’s head. It wasn’t hard enough to knock him down or out, but it hurt a lot.
Mark lifted his head to look at his opponents. He locked his hands behind his head, not so much to show he was no threat, as to keep his shirt loose in the back, hiding the shape of the knife. To his right, against the wall, a tall skinny guy, with long straggly hair, held Darren in front of him with a gun pressed against the side of his head. A welt shone brightly on Darren’s face.
The big man – Buster – sat at the far end of the dining room table, rocking back and forth with a smug look on his face. Maggie was tied to a chair with the front of her blouse open. She had a red marks on her chest, but otherwise looked unhurt. Her gaze was hard and meaningful, as though she were trying to convey something. He broke eye contact before Buster noticed.
A body lay under the table. One of his blind shots through the window must have connected. Two more were near the front door. Unless someone else was upstairs, only the three of them remained. Now all he had to do was figure out how to take them out.
He risked another glance at Maggie. Her eyes flicked toward Buster. She nodded her head toward him. The look in her eyes made him think she was trying to send a message, but he had no idea what it was.
“So you’re the one been causing me all this trouble. You don’t look like much.” He laughed and stood up, upsetting the chair. Mark tried not to show emotion as Buster came to his full height … but it wasn’t easy. He was larger than Mark had thought, standing at least six-foot-eight and probably topping three hundred pounds.
“I suppose you must have something going for you though ’cause it took real balls to waltz into my home and take something that belonged to me. Yep, could have used someone like you.”
“You never asked,” Mark said.
“Huh?”
“You don’t ask people to join you. You just move in and kill anyone you can’t use.”
“Don’t need old folks, they just get in the way. Besides, I got all the men I need. You get too big,
it’s harder to control them.”
“Guess you’re gonna have to start recruiting, ’cause you’re down a few.”
Buster chuckled. “The ones you killed here? I got plenty of men to replace them.”
“Not so many ...”
Buster walked up to Mark, his eyes narrowed. Mark, looking up, held the gaze as calmly as he could.
“What’re you talking about? You killed a few when you stole your woman back, but you saw I got a whole lot more at the base.”
“Not now.”
Buster snatched his shirt and yanked Mark to him. Buster roared, “What’re you trying to say?”
Mark let his hands drop to his sides. He needed to make his move soon before the big man put him out of commission or the man behind him saw the knife.
“I took all the women back. Then, there was a fire. Your home burned up and your men with it.”
A transformation occurred in Buster’s expression flashing from annoyance to rage. He drew his massive arm back and drove it hard into Mark’s face. Mark turned and lowered his head as the blow landed, taking the brunt of it on the top side. Still, a burst of light exploded inside his head. He catapulted over the table, landing at the feet of the man holding Darren.
Mark rolled to a stop facing Buster. He couldn't take another punch like that. Pushing to a sitting position with his right arm behind him, he cleared his head and readied to attack. Buster stormed after him, pitching chairs out of the way, shoving the table against the far wall, pinning Maggie there. The skinny guy behind Mark backed up.
Mark slid the knife out and started to rise, trying to keep it hidden behind him. The blade caused another cut on his backside as it came free. Buster lifted his arms like a huge bear, but before he could bring them down, Mark lunged up and swiped the knife at the big bear’s enormous stomach.
Mark couldn’t believe how fast Buster stopped and jumped backward. Even having the advantage of surprise, Mark was only able to make a shallow cut across his belly.
Mark pivoted and changed targets to long-hair holding Darren. His neck was a good twelve inches above Darren’s head. Mark had plenty of room to scythe the blade across, slicing his throat open. Blood spurted. Letting go of the gun and Darren, he clutched desperately at the wound.
Mark grabbed Darren by his shirt and pitched him into the living room. “Run!” he yelled. With only a brief look back, Darren turned and fled through the broken front door.
Buster turned to his last man. “Get the boy and kill him.” Buster turned on him, picking up a chair while the killer disappeared out the back door.
Mark reached for the gun the tall guy had dropped, but Buster swung the chair, forcing him back. Buster kicked the gun behind him.
“I’m gonna enjoy killing you.”
The dying assailant sagged to the floor between the two men. Mark backed into the living room. Buster advanced, using the chair like a lion tamer, trying to herd Mark into a corner. Mark thought about following Darren, but he couldn’t leave Maggie alone with Buster.
Buster jabbed the chair’s legs at him. The thrusts were hard, backing Mark up. Mark countered with stabs over the chair, but Buster was beyond his reach, his long arms keeping him away.
Mark was fast running out of room to maneuver and having trouble dodging the thrusts.
From somewhere outside, the sound of a gunshot stopped them for a second.
Buster smiled. “Say goodbye to your kid.”
More gunshots followed, one after another, and Mark’s heart sank. With renewed fervor, Buster came at Mark, who had more difficulty fending off the attacks. With a wall to his right and a couch on the left, Mark knew he had to make a move.
As Buster pulled the chair back, Mark lunged, leaping into the air and trying to stab Buster in the face. Buster countered with surprising speed, stepping back and angling the chair up. Before Mark co
uld regroup for another thrust, Buster swept his leg under the chair, catching Mark as he landed from his leap, tripping him. He fell backward onto the couch. Buster advanced in a flash, pinning Mark under the chair, his arms caught under the wooden crossbar. Mark tried to sink deeper into the cushions to gain enough space to slide his arms out, but Buster leaned his massive body on the chair, giving Mark no chance to pull free.
Mark wiggled frantically, kicking as hard as he could under the chair, but Buster gave no signs the kicks affected him. Keeping his bulk pressed against the chair, he lifted one of his huge arms over the chair and pounded his fist on top of Mark’s head. With each blow, Buster took bigger and harder chops. Mark was having difficulty staying focused.
Then Buster rose higher to punch harder and Mark was able to slide his left arm out. Mark attempted to block the punches with his arm but Buster landed another one with stunning force. Buster hurled the chair away, smashing it into pieces against the wall. Mark made a feeble attempt to stab him, his effort slowed by the beating he had taken. Buster smacked his knife hand to the side and slammed his body down on Mark like a giant wrestler going for a pin. Even with his arm now free, Mark could not raise it enough to damage the behemoth. The knife barely pricked his side. With his weight crushing Mark underneath, all air exploded from his lungs. Darkness crept in around the edges of his vision.
Using his weight advantage to keep Mark in place, Buster rotated his trunk so both hands could wrap around the knife hand. The slight rotation was enough for Mark to draw in a breath. Even knowing he would lose the knife, breathing seemed more important.
Mark fought with renewed vigor, sending weak punches to the side of Buster’s head. He squeezed the knife tighter, but in the end he didn’t have enough strength left to prevent Buster from taking it. With a snap Buster broke one of Mark’s fingers. The pain blinded him; yet still, Mark struggled on. When Buster broke the second finger, the battle was over.
Buster ripped the knife from Mark’s shattered hand. Mark attempted to keep the knife away, but Buster sliced away at Mark’s arms, chest, and shoulders. Then Buster smiled, holding the knife pointing downwards. With both hands, he began lowering the tip towards Mark’s eye. Mark put up both hands to stop the knife, but Buster simply put his weight into it. Mark strained futilely as the tip got closer, but he had little hope other than delay the inevitable. Buster was too strong and Mark had little left.
Then, something solid struck Buster on the head. A second blow split the skin, and blood flowed down the monster's face. Maggie stood to the side, a leg from the broken chair in her hand. She tried a third swing but Buster blocked it and then knocked her away. Something crashed to the floor.
Mark had trouble breathing as pain and Buster’s weight fought against every rise of his chest. Refocusing on Mark, a furious snarl on his face, he put both hands on the knife and lowered his weight toward Mark’s chest. Mark grasped the doubled wrists and pushed up with all his might. The blade only slowed its descent as Mark’s vision darkened at the edges.
One shot and then another rang out. Buster flinched and arched backward. With Buster’s body on top of him Mark couldn’t see what was happening. The big man looked down at Mark, pain now replacing anger. He drew the knife back and Mark found that he was now too weak to even raise his arms.
Another shot fired, Buster fell forward, the blade embedding into the sofa inches from Mark's face. Buster pushed upward and turned his head.
From over Buster’s left shoulder, Mark saw, coming out of the darkness, a thin beam of moonlight through the window highlighting an angel. She touched a gun to Buster’s forehead. “Remember me, bitch?” she said and pulled the trigger. Mark slipped into darkness.
Forty-Two
Mark awoke. It was dark, and as his eyes adjusted, he could see someone was sitting in a chair positioned next to the bed.
“Hi,” Lynn said in a soft voice.
“Hey,” He swallowed hard, his throat dry.
He heard her move. “Water?”
“Yes.”
She held the bottle for him, placing a hand behind his head to help him rise to drink. He felt a sharp pain in his left side as he did and let out a gasp.
“Careful, I think you have a broken rib or two.”
He sipped, feeling pain every time he swallowed.
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“A full day. You took quite a beating.”
“The others ...” He stopped, afraid to hear what happened to Darren. He tried again, “Is everyone all right?”
She leaned over him and looked into his eyes.
“We lost James,” she said. “We did such a great job of stopping them. I’m not sure how many we killed or wounded, but a few did follow us. The three girls and I waited in the house while Caleb and James patrolled the grounds. Four of them found us and sneaked up through the woods. They jumped Caleb and took his gun. James heard and came to help … he shot two of them before they realized he was there. They let go of Caleb to shoot back and James managed to wound a third before they shot him. But Caleb was able to get to his spare gun and shoot the last two. I assume he got the idea of a spare from you.”
“Maggie?”
“Obviously, she took it hard, but James saved Caleb and I think that helps. We buried James out behind the barn next to the other graves you dug.”
“Darren?”
She smiled. “Darren’s just fine. He’s been pacing at your door all day, hoping to see you.”
Tears of relief flowed down Mark’s face. “I thought he was dead when I heard the gunshots.”
Lynn stroked his face and wiped the tears. “No, Darren ran out to the cornfield past the boulders and apparently tripped over some guns. By the time his pursuer caught up to him, Darren picked up a pistol. He fired until the gun was empty. He got him. Darren was naturally upset about it, but he’s been more concerned about you.”
Mark realized that he and Darren had truly become father and son.
“You killed Buster?” He reached out and took her hand as he saw her eyes get a faraway haunted look. “You okay?”
“Yes, the pig deserved to die.” She fought back tears. “I only wish I could kill him again. Maggie pounded him over the head with a chair leg and then I finished it. He won’t hurt anyone else.”
They sat without speaking for a while.
Lynn stood up and played at tucking him in. She leaned forward and hugged him then kissed his forehead. “Get some rest.”
Lynn took good care of him. Darren hardly left his side. It took two days before he wanted to get out of bed and another before he could. Lynn had set and splinted his fingers, but they hurt like hell. He had bandages all over his body from cuts, scrapes, and bullets. His head ached constantly as did every muscle in his body.
But for the first time in a long time, he felt relaxed.
Epilogue
A few days later, at Mark’s insistence, they went to see how Jarrod and the rescued women were. One of the ladies was a doctor and two others were nurses, taken when the Horde raided the hospital. They’d managed to piece Jarrod back together. Much to his delight, they were nursing him back to health.
After a while, life as they now knew it became the new normal. They ran the farm, planting an assortment of crops both outside and in the greenhouses. Jarrod found two more small windmills and over time they added them to the first one. With the windmills working, they had electricity for the important things and were able to pump water from the well, so they no longer had to use the outhouse. Mallory had worked in a bookstore in a previous life. She led Mark there one day and they loaded up on do-it-yourself books. Mark started reading about solar panels.
Jarrod gave them a rooster, some chickens and a couple of pigs and soon they had fresh eggs. It was like living back in the days of pioneers, but with a lot more knowledge. They struggled with things at times and fought like families do, but they adjusted to their new lives.
Mark knew that Lynn was gettin
g past her ordeal when she came to his room one night and stayed. Maggie, after months of mourning, moved in with Jarrod and the rescued women. Caleb and Alyssa continued to develop their relationship. But when they showed up at lunch one day with straw in their hair and on their clothes, Lynn decided it was time to slow them down.
The boy who’d escaped from the barn showed up one day, looking almost as starved as Buddy had when they’d found him. He begged to join the family and willingly told them about the Horde. After the hotel had burned down, fewer than ten remained and went their separate ways. Lynn put him on probation and made him live in the barn. She assigned Ruth as his boss. He did anything she told him to do, and over time, they became a good couple.
As time went by, they discovered others like them and set up a small community. They helped each other with planting and harvesting, as well as building windmills and barns. Of all the women they had rescued, only five stayed. The others left over time to their own groups and families.
More than a week after the end of the Horde, Mark returned to his house. He knelt by the graves of his son and wife and told them the story of his new family’s survival. Promising to check on them again, Mark stood up to leave, then thinking of Becca and Bobby, took out a knife and carved them a message on the back of the two crosses.
If they were still alive, they would come home. They would find the graves. Now they would know how to find him. Mark looked from the graves to the shell that was the house. He dug up the buried mementos, then, turning his head to the sky, made the sign of the cross and walked away. It was time to move on.
Perhaps they would never know what caused the plague that killed so many, or why they were the lucky ones who survived. But they had, and they did what they had to do to keep it that way. It was time to face forward and create a new future.
And some day, when they stood in front of their God, maybe then they might know the reason.