by Ryan Casey
Jack’s mouth was dry. He couldn’t say a word.
“And now we’re here talking about you firing a shot at… at what? A group of people heading our way?”
“We found a body in the woods.”
“And who says they did it?”
“What about the cows?”
“Could’ve been taken by anyone. There’s plenty of people in the world.”
“That fire,” Jack said, still trying to convince himself more than anyone that he’d made the right choice. “Some kind of diversion.”
“You’ve no idea what it was. None of us do. There’s no way of ever knowing for sure.”
Jack was quiet. Wayne was, too. Bella and Hazel sat there. Villain and Mrs Fuzzles looked on.
“One thing’s for sure,” Jack said, eventually breaking the silence.
The rest of the room looked at him. It was like they weren’t sure about what he was planning on saying, but willing to hear him out anyway in spite of it all.
“This place,” he said. “What… what happened out there.”
“You mean you shooting someone?” Wayne asked.
“What happened out there,” Jack said, ignoring him as well as he could, suffocating his guilt over what he knew damn well he’d done. “It’s… it’s going to cause problems for us.”
Wayne slow-clapped. “And now you see it for yourself. Now you see the kind of place you’ve created. The kind of people you’ve turned us into. You’ve tried to keep us safe. And in doing so, you’ve put us all in danger. Nice one, ‘Dad’. Nice one, as always.”
He looked at this room of people losing faith in him, and he took a deep breath.
“Whatever happened,” Jack said. “We’re in the position we’re in now, which leaves us with no other choice.”
“No other choice but what?” Hazel asked.
Jack looked out the window, into the night. “We’re going to have to step up our guard of this place. We’re going to have to watch carefully. We’re going to have to be vigilant. Super vigilant.”
He looked around at the rest of his people.
“We’re going to defend this place. For Stan. And for us. Because this is our home now. And we’re not going to let anyone take it from us.”
His people looked on, silent.
He remembered the look in the man’s eyes. The look on his face.
The look of a man who wasn’t going to let things go.
“No matter how it started. And whether we like it or not. We’re in conflict now. We’re at war now.”
Chapter Twelve
Logan, Candice and Emma stood in the woods over the hole in the ground as rain began to fall from the dark, humid sky.
The day had passed by quickly and quietly. Not many words had been spoken since the incident at the farm. It felt like life had stood still ever since that moment; a moment that changed everything.
But now he looked down into that hole in the ground, at the dirt laid on top of it, at the cross above it, he felt the emotion building up. The reality hitting home, well and truly.
Jean was gone.
They’d lost one of their own.
And why?
He looked around and saw Emma lying by a tree, curled up. It hurt him, seeing her so upset. He knew how good a kid she was. How much she wanted things to work out for the best; how much she wanted to believe that people could come together, how people could be better.
But this was proof that couldn’t always be the case.
This was all the proof he needed that the world Emma wanted wasn’t possible. Not when everyone was so caught up in their own dramas. Not now people defended their homes in ruthless ways.
And he’d tried. He’d tried listening to Emma. He’d tried doing things her way. He’d tried doing things the way this group insisted he did things.
And now one of them was dead.
“Where do we go from here?”
Logan looked around. Candice was standing there. She looked totally drained of all her energy. Jean’s death had hit her hard—and this was only going to be the beginning of the grief.
Logan looked at that dirt patch on the ground.
He thought about the look in the man’s eyes.
The way he’d lifted that rifle.
The way he’d fired.
And he was conflicted. On the one hand, he wanted to maintain the moral high ground. He wanted to believe that they could remain the better people. Or that they could just walk away from all of this.
But then there was the other side.
The other voice telling Logan that what happened was unjust.
He liked Jean. She was a good person. Someone who had seen the good in him. Someone who had trusted him, and who he had trusted.
And this man had taken her from their group.
That couldn’t just be ignored.
It couldn’t just be forgotten.
Logan saw himself walking into that basement office and facing up to David Hayson all those years ago.
He saw the memory. Only it was fragmented, now. Fragmented between what he’d told himself happened and what actually happened.
So fragmented that he didn’t even know himself what was real anymore.
He lowered the shovel and threw it to the ground.
“There’s no time for peace,” he said. “There’s no time to clear up a misunderstanding. There’s no time for any of that.”
He looked through the trees, right in the direction of the farm.
“We’re going to avenge Jean. We’re going to make this right. We’re going to take that farm for ourselves.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jack wasn’t in a mood for waiting around the following morning.
He got up early, right at sunrise, which was around six at this time of year. Or so he imagined, anyway. Time was very much an abstract thing now. He was even losing track of what the date was.
Dates didn’t matter. None of the old structures mattered anymore.
Just day to day survival.
And today, responding to what happened yesterday—and fast.
Jack walked across the fields, rifle in hand, Villain beside him. He headed towards the woods. He wanted to get up extra early so he had a head start on the other group.
Because as much as he knew his hurry to fire had got them in this mess in the first place, this was his mess to clear up.
And that’s exactly what he was going to do.
There was another reason he was out at this time, though. The memory of what he’d done yesterday. He’d aimed at the man. He was convinced he was in his line of fire.
But then he’d pulled the trigger and he’d seen the woman beside him fall.
For a moment, he’d felt everything go still. He’d felt the silence.
And as he’d watched those people run away, the body of their friend in hands, he couldn’t deny the guilt he’d felt—and he couldn’t deny just how dangerous the desire for revenge could be.
He’d made a decision to hunt this group down. Or more specifically, the leader of the group. He knew he’d made contact with one of the girls, rather unintentionally. He hadn’t been aiming at her.
But he’d hit her.
And he just knew from the look in that man’s eyes that he wasn’t going to let it go.
He was a problem before he’d shot at him. He was definitely going to be a problem now.
So he had to stamp that problem down before it grew too strong.
He traipsed through the trees, in the direction of the tents he’d found yesterday. There was no sign of the cows that he’d been leading back home before the distraction. The tents he’d found though, that had to be this group’s camp. He was going to go in there and put a bullet in the head of the bloke before he could do anything else.
He knew what the others would say. He was exacerbating a situation that was already bad.
That’s exactly why he’d come alone.
The trees were suffocating, imposing. Everywhe
re he looked, Jack saw movement. Birds. Animals. So many opportunities to hunt. But no thoughts about hunting anyone but that man right now.
Villain clearly had the same idea, too. He kept racing ahead, to which Jack had to call him back. He didn’t want to risk anything. Not now.
He took a step further through the trees when he heard a rustling over his shoulder.
He stopped dead. Turned around, slowly, fully expecting to come face to face with that man.
But he didn’t.
There was someone there, but not who he expected.
Villain ran over to him.
“Wayne?”
Wayne walked towards Jack. He didn’t smile at him. Didn’t nod at him. He was holding a shotgun from inside the farm.
“What’re you doing out here?” Jack asked.
Wayne walked past him, patted Villain. “The same reason as you.”
“I came out here alone for a reason—”
“Which is exactly why I came with you.”
Jack sighed. “The girl?”
Wayne turned around and faced him. “I know you don’t believe me, but I know what I saw. Who I saw.”
Jack’s mouth was dry. He didn’t want to doubt his son so audibly again. Not now he was at least engaging in some kind of conversation with him. “Maybe you did.”
“And that’s why I’m here,” Wayne said. “Because I know for a fact if you find that group… I know what you’ll do to them. All of them. To make sure they can’t get to us. To make sure they can’t hurt us.”
Jack was stunned to hear Wayne’s accusations. But was it because he was disgusted at the monster he thought he was… or because he was right?
He shook his head. “That’s not true.”
“Really? Well if not, I guess you won’t mind me joining, will you?”
Jack sighed and took a few steps. “Come on then. We’d better get looking.”
He walked further into the woods, holding that rifle tightly. Wayne didn’t say much. He looked focused on every step.
Every now and then, Jack turned around and looked at Wayne, saw him staring at him. He wondered if Wayne could do it, as he held that shotgun in hand. If he could lift it and shoot him if they had a disagreement.
And suddenly he felt vulnerable. Like he didn’t know his son at all, and that he was capable of anything.
“Reminds me of that day in the woods,” Wayne said.
Jack’s heart fluttered. He turned around. “What?”
Wayne stared into space as he walked. “That day in the woods when I was a kid. We went out for a walk. Got caught in the rain. Ended up sheltering under a tree. I remember we were soaked but I just wanted to stay outside for ages.”
“We had cold sausages,” Jack said, smiling. “Your mum had cooked them the night before.”
Wayne smiled back at him. “I remember.”
They stared at one another for a few seconds, and Jack felt himself transported right back to when Wayne was just a kid. When everything was good between them.
That smile they exchanged, the way they looked into each other’s eyes, it felt like a lifetime ago since the last time they’d been so close.
And then Wayne’s smile dropped and he looked away.
Jack did too.
They walked further into the woods, and Jack found himself wanting to say so many things to Wayne. So many things that Wayne hadn’t given him the opportunity to say yet.
He felt like this was as good a chance as ever.
“What happened,” Jack said. “With your sis—”
“Don’t,” Wayne said.
“Wayne, I—”
“Just don’t. Please.”
Jack looked around at him.
Wayne’s lips were shaking.
Horror in his eyes.
That same look he’d had when he got home that day of the accident, bruised face. A deadness to him.
India wasn’t the only one who had died that day all those years ago.
Something inside all of them had died, and what happened in the years that followed was the rot setting in and taking control.
Jack opened his mouth. Prepared to say something else. Prepared to apologise once more.
And then he saw something.
On the ground right before them, there was something there. Villain was sniffing at it.
He reached down.
Touched it.
Moved it between his fingers.
“What is it?” Wayne asked.
Jack looked up, heart racing, stomach churning. “It’s blood,” he said.
Wayne’s eyes narrowed. “And is that…”
Jack stepped away from the dirt mound and the cross and nodded.
He saw the girl standing there in the distance.
He saw himself pulling the trigger all over again.
And he saw that girl falling.
“It’s a grave,” he said.
Wayne looked at him, and then back at this grave before them.
“We’re close,” Jack said.
Chapter Fourteen
Jack stared at the blood on the grave and knew they were close.
The morning light was mostly smothered by the thick grey clouds. The air was thick and humid, as it had been for the last few weeks. Seemed like it had been like this for a hell of a long time, in all truth.
The trees around felt like they were hiding secrets. The area they were in was silent. And as certain as Jack was that they weren’t near the tents from yesterday anymore, he knew they were close to people.
He knew they were close to the group.
He could just feel it.
He looked at Wayne, and Wayne looked back at him.
“Come on,” Jack said. “We need to…”
He stopped talking, because he heard footsteps.
And then, behind Wayne, behind Villain, he saw them.
First, the man. The man whose eyes he’d stared into. The man who he knew was going to be problematic.
The man he’d come for.
But there was someone behind him, too. Waiting in the trees.
That little girl.
She looked right at Jack and half-smiled, like she didn’t want any of this trouble, this conflict.
And Jack felt for her, because he didn’t want any kids to get dragged into this mess either.
The man looked right into his eyes. Although there was uncertainty over whether he was armed when he was approaching the farm, there was no mistaking the hunting rifle in his hands now.
And the man’s eyes. Jack felt like he was looking into a mirror; like the man was looking at him exactly like he was looking at the man.
Like they both had the same idea in mind.
Jack lifted his rifle.
The man lifted his rifle.
They stood there. Together.
Head to head.
“You killed one of our people,” the man said.
Damn it. Confirmation of what he’d feared all along. “I’m sorry. That… that was an accident. But you were heading towards my farm.”
“And that’s a crime?”
“I know what you want. I know what you already tried to take from me.”
“You don’t know a thing.”
Jack tightened his grip around the trigger.
The man did, too.
“Logan,” a voice said.
It was the little girl. She stepped forward.
Then someone else stepped in and pulled her back.
Someone he couldn’t properly make out for the leaves.
Wayne stood by Jack’s side. Shotgun half raised, too. On Jack’s side for what felt like the first time.
“We were heading towards your farm because we were searching for shelter,” the man—Logan—said. “We’ve been on the road for a while. We didn’t want any trouble.”
“Nobody ever wants any trouble. But when somebody wants what somebody else has got… there’s trouble.”
“You didn’t have to shoot the girl
,” Logan said.
“And you didn’t have to—”
“Jack?”
Jack turned. Saw the way Wayne was staring at this guy.
“What’s up?”
“This guy,” Wayne said, hands shaking around his shotgun a little. “Logan. Logan Butcher. Logan the Butcher. He’s…”
Wayne didn’t have to say any more.
Jack looked into the hollow eyes of this bearded man and he knew right away exactly who it was.
“I remember the stories,” Jack said. “The stories about what you did. About who you are. That family. What you did to them. You’re a long way from where you should be, aren’t you?”
Logan held Jack’s gaze. “Stories aren’t always true.”
“I’ll choose to believe what I want to believe.”
“You do that. But we’re dancing around what we’re really here to talk about. Aren’t we?”
Jack held his rifle. “There’s nothing more to say. You stay away from my farm. You stay away from my land. Everything will be good.”
Logan shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works out.”
Jack tightened the trigger.
So too did Logan.
“Wait,” Wayne said. “I need to ask you something. Something about… about someone I saw with you—”
Logan ignored him. Kept his focus on Jack. “You shot one of my people. Jean. She died in my arms. She was a good young woman. Strong. She didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“No you aren’t. And that’s the problem we have here. You aren’t sorry. And given a chance, you’d do the same to me and the rest of my people all over again. So I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. I’ll tell you how this is going to go.”
He took a step closer.
Looked right into Jack’s eyes.
“We’re going to get our revenge. We’re going to make things right. And there isn’t a thing you can do that will stop us.”
Jack felt it, then. The adrenaline taking over, possessing him.
The only option making itself clear.
He had to put this guy down.
He had to finish this, right now.
It was the only way.
“Logan,” the girl said again.
She stepped forward, right as Jack tightened his finger around that trigger a little more.