The man who shot Brigham raises his gun and pulls the trigger. The sound echoes through the woods, and Jose is flung back. Blood blooms through his shirt as he goes down. A silent whimper escapes me. Furiously, I open and close my eyes to keep the tears at bay. My fingers around my rifle tense and press the cold material so hard they hurt.
It’s maddening to be forced to watch helplessly our friends getting terrorized, hurt, and killed. But there is nothing we can do yet unless we want to not only lose the element of surprise but our lives as well.
Once our friends reach the head of the caravan and group tightly together, the bandits surround them, check them for weapons. A big pile forms as knives and guns get confiscated. I throw a glance at Colin. His entire demeanor is grim; his whole body is coiled as if he is ready to jump any second now.
I wonder how our other hidden friends will know when it’s time to attack. Sweat runs down my forehead, and I rub my head against my shoulder, where my shirt absorbs some of it. Tensed, I keep my rifle aimed at the attackers, ready for the slightest signal from Colin –trusting him to find the right moment to engage the enemy.
One of the thugs steps forward and, in one swift motion, pulls Katie out of the group by her long, blonde hair. I stiffen; Katie is Maggie’s little sister. Since I have no idea if Colin knows that and Maggie is armed and capable just opposite from us, I whisper, “Maggie’s sister.” as quietly as possible to Colin.
I admire Maggie’s self-restraint; how she hasn’t fired a shot yet, is beyond me. My whole body vibrates with anger. Katie is only fifteen. What the hell does the man want with her? Stupid question, I scold myself.
He pushes Katie forward into the waiting arms of another man, who seems to be the leader. He reminds me of tattoo guy. What is exposed of his body is covered in ink, just like the gangster at the drugstore was. His head is shaved, and he sports a goatee. He is definitely Hispanic, but the entire group is a blend of all races. There are whites and blacks as well as Hispanics. Still, I wonder if these men belong to one of the gangs that were pushed out of Mexico.
One man is still holding Katie’s hair. She is trying to grab it with her hands, trying to kick, but the man just laughs at her. At the same time, the leader steps forward and begins to fondle her.
Sweat pours down my face in earnest now. I want to shoot him so badly. My entire body hums with suppressed energy and in anticipation of a fight. I have never wanted to kill anybody this badly in my life.
What am I saying? Good God, has it really come to this already? In just a few months, I’m ready to shoot and kill? But there is no question in my mind, hasn’t been since I killed tattoo guy.
The rules have changed, and the good guys don’t play by them any longer, just like the bad guys.
I risk another glance at Colin, whose entire facial expression is fierce and foreboding. None of us want to watch Katie maltreated. But we are paralyzed. It’s still too early to interfere; we can’t do anything until the bandits searching the truck and cars are out in the open -otherwise, we’ll have a blood bath on our hands –which won’t help Katie.
But I’m also worried about Maggie.
If I’m barely able to contain myself from killing those monsters, she must be feeling even worse. I hope Cory will be able to restrain her.
Watching this is the hardest thing I ever had to do in my entire life. If I could trade places with Katie, I would. In a heartbeat.
My gaze wanders over our people’s grim faces; I worry about one of them stepping forward like Jose did. We’d be forced to watch it happen, just like we had to watch Brigham getting shot. And Jose.
The bandits are still at too many different spots. If we engage them now, they would have too many places to hide and return fire. Our people would be caught not only out in the open but in the crossfire as well.
Since the bandits took our friends’ weapons, they don’t even have a way of defending themselves. On top of all that, there are only eight of us out here, hidden in the underbrush, against thirty.
My hands grab my rifle so hard my knuckles hurt, as I’m forced to watch the leader kiss and maul Katie. I hear her pathetic whimpers all the way over here. Her struggles seem to amuse the thug even more.
I glance worriedly at our friends, who are stirring, exchanging angry glances. It’s obvious they want to jump in and help Katie. But all of us face the same dilemma; the bandits are too spread out for us to fight them effectively. I can only hope and pray that their self-control will hold up just a bit longer or that the thugs will finally let Katie go. All I can do is to be ready should somebody do something stupid.
When it happens, my heart hitches, and I watch in utter impotence as Eric breaks out of the group and throws himself with a roar at the leader of the gang members. His fist lands on the thug’s chin, but two others jump in and pull Eric back. The boss starts to laugh and pulls out a knife. ‘Oh, God, please no.’ I scream inside my head. ‘I can’t watch this.’
The leader stabs Eric in the stomach and laughs. Martin moves forward, his fists balled by his side, and I silently beseech him. ‘No, please, step back, please.’
Katie screams and tries to run to Eric but is being held back by the other two men. She screams again, and another woman cries out and runs to Eric’s side; I remember her as his mother. Before I realize what is happening, the leader pulls his gun and shoots Eric’s mom in the head, laughing all the while.
All the commotion gets the attention of the bandits, who were searching the vehicles, and they rush forward; they don’t want to miss the fun. Clapping each other on the shoulders and laughing, they make their way to the front. They seem animated, excited like they are going to a party. I clench my teeth. This party is about to be crashed. I see it on Colin’s face, even before he utters the word:
“Now!”
Chapter 33
Colin points at two men carrying machine guns. He doesn’t need to tell me twice. Suddenly my entire body goes calm. My heart rate slows down to normal, my shaking stops, and my whole being is focused on the scope I’m looking through. It only takes a second after Colin pointed to one of the men before I’m ready. Releasing a breath, I pull the trigger.
I don’t take the time to watch his head explode before my rifle turns to the next thug. There is not enough time to focus and aim, so I go for center mass. Shots ring out from all sides now. My first shot was the signal for our squad.
Bandits fall to the ground all around the RV. The ones not hit search in terror for a target, trying to figure out where the shots are coming from while diving for cover. But Colin had foreseen this when he picked our spots earlier. The moment the bandits seek cover behind the felled tree, Maggie and Cory peel them off. If they move back to the other side, Colin and I get them.
With every shot I take, I’m hyperaware of my friends just across from me in the bushes. There is zero room for error or a stray bullet. Even though we are not straight across from each other, the danger of shooting a friend or getting hit by friendly fire is on my mind.
Confused, the bandits turn their rifles and guns this way and that, some fire blindly into the bushes. One bullet whizzes by me, scaring the crap out of me. A few others ping off the boulder we are hiding behind.
Pushing thoughts of getting hurt from my mind, I keep pulling the trigger. But my shots are fewer now since the thugs are on the move, and I don’t want to risk a loose bullet. To them, it must seem like they are being attacked from all sides and with a lot more guns than our eight.
They scan futilely for their leader, but he is already dead on the ground. I didn’t see who killed him, but I’m glad he is gone. The surviving bandits search in vain for cover; pandemonium breaks out.
Our people, the ones not injured, throw themselves, unarmed, against the thugs. Michael comes out of nowhere and tackles a shirtless white guy to the ground. The thug was in the process of aiming at one of our friends. The impact with Michael’s body forces his gun up, and a shot goes out into the sky. Both Michael a
nd he hit the ground.
I try to aim at the shirtless man, but he and Michael tumbling on the pavement make it impossible to find a target. ‘Come on, Mike.’ My mind screams out. Something silver flashes, a knife. Somehow the thug got a hold of a knife.
Michael punches him in the face, so engrossed and concentrated; he doesn’t have a clue a blade is about to embed itself into his back. The crosshairs of my scope suddenly align with the gangster’s fist holding the blade. Ice-cold determination runs through me, and before I can doubt myself, my finger, curled around the trigger, pulls on it.
The man screams out, his blade flies towards the RV, and Michael, still clueless, as to what just happened, lands another blow at his opponent. Only momentarily distracted by the sudden appearance of blood gushing from his foe.
One arm still in a sling, Sean, the boy who got almost eaten by a dinosaur, appears. Like an angel of vengeance, he mindlessly rushes towards another thug. The bandit doesn’t hesitate for a second; he brings his AR around, ready to cut the boy challenging him in two.
But Colin has none of that. His finger glides over the trigger, and the bandit sinks to the ground as his brain evaporates.
Undeterred, Sean changes direction and dives for the stash of weapons the thugs took from our friends earlier and arms himself.
I feel a strange calmness over me as my eyes keep assessing the situation through the scope, looking for targets, searching for our friends in need of help. Over and over, the butt of my rifle pounds into my shoulder. Thug after thug finds their demise.
I lose count of how many men I kill or how many are down, but it’s over surprisingly fast. Maybe two minutes after the first bullet found its target. Bodies litter the ground. Several of our friends were killed or injured during the fight, but most of the dead are bandits.
I follow Colin’s lead, and we leave our spot, moving towards where the fallen thug leader lies in a pool of blood. Seeing Eric lying lifeless on the ground does something to me. It’s not just anger rising inside of me or the fleeting moment of triumph that we won. It’s as if I can literally feel the chambers of my heart hardening. I have heard the term cold resolve before, I know what those words mean, but for the first time in my life, I actually experience their meaning. My fury zooms in on the surviving gang members. My eyes narrow, and I can barely stop myself from raising my gun again and shooting them.
Eight gang members survived. Two of them bleed from wounds, while the other six sport only minor injuries. All of them kneel on the ground, several guns aimed at them.
I’m more interested in Eric and his mom, who lie a little further away, motionless. Professor Dunn and Doctor Paton are by their sides, and I make a dash towards them. When they see me coming, the doc raises his head and shakes it.
From the dense foliage by the side of the road, our fellow squad members emerge, all unharmed. Maggie rushes towards her sister; Blake joins Colin and me. Ty dashes to Ace’s side, who just walked up to us, limping but no worse for the wear. Ty hits his friend so hard on the shoulder, Ace stumbles forward, but his mom catches him. His face is covered in blood, but a wide grin is spread across his face.
“Help, please.” A girl named Anna has Jose heavily leaning against her; they slowly walk over to us. Jose’s right hand presses a red-stained shirt against his injured shoulder. Doctor Paton jumps up and rushes to their side.
Maggie’s mom is holding a sobbing Katie in her arms, mumbling words of comfort, while Maggie fusses over both of them.
Martin comes smiling to us. “Thanks, guys.” He takes Colin, Blake, and me into a hard hug
“What are we going to do with them now?” Martin asks in a bellowing voice, his gun indicating the prisoners.
“Kill them.” Maggie and I say simultaneously.
Heads turn towards us, some surprised, some taken aback, some in agreement.
“You can’t kill them. They are helpless.” A woman steps forward.
I feel my blood boil, and my anger gets the better of me. “What do you think they were going to do to you while you were helpless?” I snarl.
The woman is taken aback by my raw anger and moves back into the folds of her family, horror on her face.
“They are human beings.” Joe, of all people, pipes up. I really didn’t expect him to side with the low lives.
“Tell that to my husband.” Brigham’s widow cries.
“They were going to rape my sister. In front of you’ll. You saw it.” Maggie’s voice is low and serious.
Her eyes are narrow while she is spitting her words towards the eight kneeling men. I have known Maggie for a long time and can tell her anger is at the boiling point. When her voice gets this low and quiet, you better watch out.
“Please.” one of the thugs begs.
Maggie points at a man holding his daughter. “Your daughter would have probably been next. Were you prepared to stand by and watch that too?”
He holds his daughter tighter and shrinks back but looks at Maggie with a mix of horror and unspoken accusation for frightening his child.
“Alright, so they were going to rape and kill us. We are all in agreement on that.” Professor Dunn intervenes reasonably, stepping forward. “But they didn’t. And now they won’t. We won.”
“So, what?” I snarl. “Let them go?”
“We take their weapons.” The professor says.
Irritated, I growl. “And the next people? The ones who come after us? Don’t fool yourself; they might be disarmed now, but they’ll find guns, and they’ll do it again. Those people’s blood will be on your hands.”
He seems to think about my words before giving me a nod and turning back to his RV, without another word.
“You can’t just shoot eight helpless men.” Somebody else throws in unhelpfully.
Seeing an opportunity, another one of the prisoners looks up. “Mercy.”
Maggie is instantly in his face, recognizing him as the man who had pulled Katie out by her hair. “Would you have shown my sister mercy once she begged?”
Her voice is still low but has a strength that carries for everybody to hear.
The man turns his head, he can’t answer her question, and he knows it. He looks down.
“I didn’t think so,” Maggie growls and cuffs him in the head with all the contempt she feels.
“Wow, don’t mess with our girls.” Ace tries to joke, pointing at Maggie and me. Ty jabs him in the shoulder.
“Well, actually, Vivian is quite good at shooting helpless men, aren’t you Viv?” The voice sends a round of chills down my spine as I turn and stare open-mouthed at Ryan.
“What the hell are you doing here?” And then a little calmer. “You should be kneeling over there with those guys; you’ll fit right in.” I tip my chin towards the thugs.
“McCarthy, back in my van.” Sheriff Donovan steps into the midst and takes Ryan by his arm.
“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t let him and his friend rot in jail while we took off.”
I glare at him. “You didn’t need to bring them.”
To my utter dismay, I see Jason in the sheriff’s van and want to kill him as well. Donovan shrugs apologetically and takes Ryan back to his vehicle, while our group starts to yell and scream at each other again, trying to figure out what to do with the prisoners.
“Everybody back into their vehicles; we’ll take care of this,” Martin yells, and silence ensues.
People turn to each other, unsure, seeking advice from the person next to them.
“I really don’t think….” somebody starts.
“We are still civilized.” somebody else throws in.
“Marshal law is in effect. You heard the President.” Another voice shouts out.
It came from Sheriff Donovan, returning from taking Ryan and Jason back to his camper. I scrutinize him in surprise. Slowly people begin to disperse to their vehicles, picking up items the gang members tossed out.
“You need to get back in the RV,” Colin advises Martin.
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br /> “No, I’ll see….”
Colin stops him: “You are our leader. You are leading everybody. Don’t pick sides in this.” He advises.
“You and Blake can’t do this alone.” Martin tries again.
“They are not alone.” the sheriff says decisively. “I’m staying. Don’t worry. We will get it done.”
“I’m staying too,” I state.
“Me too.” Maggie.
Colin looks surprised from Maggie to me, but for a change, doesn’t make one of his snide remarks.
Caren moves forward, followed by Michael, who lost his best friend, and Jose, whose arm is in a sling. I suspect the doctor hasn’t completely gotten to him yet.
“You should take care of that wound first,” I say.
“Go, I’ll stay.” Hugo offers.
Jose nods gratefully at Hugo and returns to the RV that houses the professor, the doctor, and his wife, along with Sven and Astrid.
Some of the men and women begin to move the tree out of the road. As soon as it is gone, Martin honks the RV’s horn, and the convoy rolls out. People stare at us as they move their vehicles around us. I’m starting to get used to people staring at me.
“Please stop this.” a woman shouts, I think she is Jason’s mom, but I ignore her.
Colin punches my upper arm slightly. “Don’t let it get to you; they just want to be able to feel better about themselves.”
I know. I do get it. They can go to bed at night and think, ‘Well, at least I tried.’ Where we will be tossing and turning seeing the faces of the people we killed, and for a moment, I despise them for it. They are self-righteous hypocrites.
They know as well as we do this needs to be done, but they won’t lift a finger to do so. These people want to be protected by us, but they also don’t want anything to do with us when things get ugly. They want to keep their conscience clean while condemning us for protecting them every way we must.
It’s not fair, but that is the circle of life that I now realize was always there, from police shootings to criticizing the army for waterboarding or other assumed trespasses. And to my shame, I was among those people.
The Rain | Part 1 | The Beginning Page 28