18 From Breckenridge: Love On The Run (18 From Breckenrdige)

by J. P. Castle

  “Bastian, an exit one mile ahead,” said Rani, hanging onto the door handle.

  Bastian’s wheels hydroplaned. The vehicle went into a skid for a brief second before he regained control. A green exit sign flew from its post and spun violently through the air.

  A single farm sat at the bottom of the exit ramp. No charge stations, nothing else but open fields. They had no choice but to seek shelter at the farm. Visibility moved to zero. Vivid lightning strikes landed in blinding flashes from every direction.

  “BASTIAN THERE IT IS!” screamed Rani, who for once displayed the appropriate affect for the situation.

  They all turned right; the F3 tornado danced in full view, daring anyone to come out and play. Trees, light poles, and other debris swirled in a giant circling mass. Boards careened across the field at a high rate of speed. Thunder cracked so loudly it would’ve made the toughest of men cower in its presence. The beast laid an entire house to rest in a nearby field, smashing it into bits and pieces.

  They pulled up the drive; a farmer appeared at his cellar door. He waved his hand for them all to come into his shelter. Shingles flew from the rooftop of the old white farmhouse. An aged oak tree, in the front yard, ripped from the ground. Ornaments bounced off the porch.

  Ledger, Joaquin, and Mateo helped the others get into the cellar, noticing no one had exited the R.V.

  “What are they waiting for?” yelled Joaquin.

  “I’m not sure,” shouted Ledger. “They must know they can’t stay in there. Mr. McC would never do that.”

  “CALEB, CALEB, CAN you hear me?” said Bryce. Her streaming tears landed on top of his face. She piano played her fingertips over his blood-soaked chest, carefully moving them down his body. The bullet had lodged itself along the edge of his abdomen, under his ribcage.

  The rest of the blood must’ve come from the last bullet. The one Caleb fired into the soldier’s chest. Bryce tore a piece from her t-shirt and stuffed it into the wound to help stop the bleeding. She could hardly focus through the tears.

  “Stay with me, Caleb. We can fix this. Don’t you dare give up on me. We can fix this,” she pleaded, lightly caressing his swollen, bloody face.

  “Where’s he hit? Keep pressure on the wound,” said Mr. McCrady. I should’ve helped him, but how? If I had stopped the rig, the tornado would’ve ripped it in half.

  “It hit his side. Hurry, we have to get into the cellar,” said Amir.

  Bryce laid hold of Caleb’s arm; Amir latched onto the other side. Caleb moaned, scarcely conscious now. He shuffled his feet along the best he could, leaving a trail of blood behind.

  The high-velocity winds made it hard to gain ground. Bryce knew any second, the airborne debris would surely slice them to shreds. Bastian held the cellar door open until he noticed his sister and Amir dragging Caleb along in the blood-soaked t-shirt.

  “BRYCE,” he said, dashing over to assist, realizing something had gone horribly wrong. “What happened?” he yelled through the wind, taking her place to haul Caleb along.

  The downpour drenched their clothes as they made their way to the cellar door and down the stairs. All eyes focused on Caleb, who collapsed on the floor. His condition stunned the rest of the group, he scarcely clung to life. The twister needed to pass before they could genuinely offer him medical care. Everyone hunkered down, trapped by the monster roaring above.

  Bryce laid Caleb’s head in her lap and held pressure on his side. “He saved my life,” she said. “The soldier got loose and tried to kill me . . . all of us. He shot Caleb.”

  “Where’s the soldier now?” said Bastian.

  “Dead. Caleb killed him,” said Amir.

  The tornado hovered close now. No one could hear with the freight train rolling directly over the cellar. Bastian sat in the corner with his arm around Rani, nothing more he could do now to help Caleb except wait.

  “Is he gonna be okay?” said Rani.

  “I don’t know yet,” said Bastian. “It doesn’t look good.”

  “Are we safe down here?” said Ollie, snuggling in tight next to Mr. McCrady.

  “I hope so, Ollie. I prayed for all our safety,” said Mr. McCrady with his arm wrapped around him.

  Seconds later, the cellar door ripped away from its hinges and disappeared into the misty haze. The girls screamed out. Bryce laid herself over Caleb, clutching him in her arms to protect him from the fragments of mud, leaves, and dirt flying through the door. Tiny pieces bombarded her back, biting at her skin like a pecking bird.

  Ledger held onto Troian; she buried her face in his chest. “I’m terrified,” she said, her body in a full tremble.

  “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna make it. We’ve been through too much not to make it out of here.” He secured his grip around her back, turned her toward the wall, and braced his head into her hair.

  Youlie cleaved to Amir’s arm.

  “Don’t worry, Youlie, it’ll be over soon,” he said. This is the second time in my life that I’ve gotten to be close to Youlie. Both times I’ve feared for either her life, my life, or both. I’ve GOT to work on that.

  A wail came from the back corner.

  “Timmy,” shouted Mazel, “are you okay?”

  She loosened herself from his grasp and saw a six-inch piece of splintered wood lodged in the side of his leg.

  “Oh my gosh! That sh—hurts, man,” said Timmy, rolling his eyes. Even through the pain, he never let go of Mazel.

  She reached down and pulled the nasty barb from his calf.

  “You seriously don’t understand how bad I want to cuss right now, but I just finished praying that we’d live to see another day. So, I’m gonna try to refrain. Be strong, be a man. That’s what dad always said,” said Timmy, placing his free hand on his forehead.

  “You’re gonna make it,” giggled Mazel. “Come on, we have to help Caleb.”

  The noise above quieted. The rain and thunder continued, but the evil killer moved on to terrorize its next victims. The farm owner stepped forward; he peered down at Caleb.

  “Appears you all hit a bit of trouble. Let’s get that boy in the house. This could be serious. We need to hurry now, no time to waste.”

  Bastian jumped up. He, Ledger, and Joaquin carried Caleb up and out of the cellar.

  The barn roof laid in the field, scattered in pieces. The house stood intact, minus a few shingles. A couple of trees had uprooted from the front yard and sat among the rubble. Surprisingly, the vehicles remained unscathed in the drive, minus a cracked windshield, dents, and several scratches.

  The guys whisked Caleb into the house. Bryce followed. The old-timer directed them to place Caleb on the kitchen table.

  “He’s been shot in the right side,” said Bryce. “Can you help him? Please, please help him.”

  “I used to be an EMT in my younger years, but I’m no doctor.” The old man rummaged through his drawers, pulling out medical supplies, along with a kit from beneath the kitchen sink.

  “How’d he get shot?” said the farmer. He’d seen it all in his younger EMT years.

  Mr. McCrady piped up for this one. “To be honest, it’s a long, complicated story. The gist of it is . . . a bad man decided that he wanted to kidnap her and kill the rest of us. This young man saved all of our lives.”

  “Where’s the bad man now?” said the farmer, not breaking his stride. He pulled out scissors and cut Caleb’s shirt off.

  “In the R.V., this literally happened as we were pulling into your drive.”

  “I see, and this bad man, he’s . . .”

  “Dead,” said Bryce.

  The farmer handed Bryce some cloth, “Wash the blood off his face, neck, and torso. We need to get him cleaned up. You two,” he pointed at Bastian and Ledger, “you’re gonna have to lock his feet down if I have to take the bullet out.”

  Mr. McCrady kept the bloody cloths rinsed. He handed them back to Bryce one by one.

  Bryce had never even seen Caleb without a shirt. She’d never been th
is personal with anyone before. No time to be shy or squeamish. I have to help him, she thought.

  The farmer assessed Caleb’s wound. “The bullets still inside, didn’t go clean through. He’s in trouble if I don’t or can’t get it out.” He prepared his forceps with alcohol, then poured more over the wound.

  The sting brought Caleb out of his daze. The rest of the group heard him holler out in agony from the other room. Bryce stood at his side; Caleb distinguished her with his one working eye. She wiped his face with a wet cloth and continued to clean him up. Caleb rolled his head back ‘n forth.

  “Son, here bite on this. If I don’t get the bullet out, it’ll get infected, then you’ll die. Either I do it, or we can try to get you to a real hospital?” said the farmer. He placed a wooden piece in Caleb’s mouth.

  “NO, no hospitals,” said Bastian.

  “Are you sure, Bastian? Can’t we take him to a hospital?!” said Bryce.

  “Think about what you're saying, Bryce. Hospitals ask questions. He’ll be arrested. Do what the man says. This is his only chance, now get it together,” scolded Bastian harshly.

  Tears welled up again in Bryce’s eyes. She couldn’t stand seeing Caleb in this much torment, but she knew her big brother was right.

  “You boys ready? Lay on his legs, hold him down tight.”

  Bryce steadied his head.

  Beads of sweat covered Caleb’s brow.

  The farmer dug into his lower torso with the forceps. Caleb clenched down onto the wooden stick in his mouth. His body stiffened, then arched as he tried to get away from the torture.

  Bastian and Ledger could hardly keep him still.

  “Hold him, boys, hold him. Almost there. I can feel it. Got it. Come on now, come out of there . . . I got it,” said the farmer, pulling the slug out of Caleb’s abdomen. Blood gushed from the wound. He stuffed gauze into the hole.

  The pain overwhelmed Caleb. His body went limp, he passed out cold. Bastian and Ledger stood up, releasing his legs. Bryce put pressure on the wound until the farmer could remove the gauze and stitch the hole shut.

  “Great work, everybody,” said the farmer.

  “Will he be okay?” said Bryce. “He has to be okay.”

  “Too soon to say. This wound must stay clean and dry. He’s showing signs of a concussion. Did he hit his head?”

  “Yes, hard, at least twice on the floor for sure, and he took several blows directly to the face. The soldier kicked him multiple times in the ribs and stomach, too,” said Bryce.

  The farmer bandaged Caleb’s head. He handed Bryce the scissors, “Cut his pants off. He can’t be jarred around right now. I’m sure he’s lost more blood than he should’ve. His ribs also might be cracked or broken.”

  Bryce raised an eyebrow. Cut his pants off. Okay, I can do this.

  Caleb’s pants were covered in blood. Bryce steadied her hand and cut up the side of each leg; Bastian and Ledger pulled the wet garment from beneath. Caleb now lay on the wooden table in his boxers. He remained unconscious, even as the farmer finished stitching the wound closed.

  “At least the electric’s still on,” said the farmer. “You boys gently carry him to the back bedroom, down the hall. He needs fluids. Lots of fluids ‘n plenty of rest. I’ll put on some soup and check my supplies for Lactated Ringer's solution to get an I.V. going. That’ll help replace the blood loss. The next twenty-four hours are critical, but he’s young, he’s got that going for him. That’s a lot of bruising on his abdomen; hopefully, he doesn’t get any clots. Bryce, I’ll give you some pills for pain and swelling; hopefully, you can get him to take them.”

  Bastian and Ledger carried Caleb to the back room. Bryce followed and turned down the bed covers. “I won’t leave him,” she said.

  Mr. McCrady cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. The farmer found the I.V. solution and placed an I.V. in Caleb’s arm. “When this bag runs out, remove the plastic needle and apply pressure until the bleeding stops. I’ve only got this one bag. Here are the pills.”

  “Thank you, sincerely, thank you,” said Bryce.

  “He above works in mysterious ways. You, fortunately, landed here where I could help, and you’re welcome.” The farmer left to put away the medical supplies, then pulled out some old stockpots to begin dinner.

  “For once, I hope my day gets a little more boring. I’ve had all the excitement this old body can handle for one day,” said the farmer.

  “Sir, I humbly thank you,” said Mr. McCrady. “I’m certain you saved his life. I know this kid, I’m his teacher. He’s a good boy; honestly, we’ve come up against some serious problems that are entirely out of our control.”

  “Well, just for your information, I have a big outdoor furnace behind the house. Use it if you need to—if you get my meaning. I’ll be long gone before anyone comes sniffing around here. I’m eighty-seven, my wife, Stella, left me a few years back. I’ll join her soon enough. I learned a long time ago that sometimes people get into unfortunate situations. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I greatly appreciate your generosity, sir. We all do. I’m not sure what we would’ve done in your absence,” said Mr. McCrady.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Cleanup

  MR. McCRADY WALKED outside to find Bastian and Ledger. “We have to get that body out of the R.V. Don’t forget to remove his dog tags, all metal, weapons, and anything else that won’t burn. The farmer said we could use the furnace out back if you get my drift. Go, use it now. I’d never condone this under normal circumstances, but we’re a long far cry from normal circumstances. We simply have no choice.”

  “We’re on it,” said Bastian.

  The boys got the soldier out of the rig. “Man, this dude is heavy,” said Ledger. “We shouldn’t have left Caleb alone with this idiot.”

  “I agree,” said Bastian, trying to hang onto the man’s arms. “Did you ever imagine we’d be stuffing a man in a furnace together?”

  “Nope . . . not together anyway,” said Ledger with a grin.

  Both breathed heavier by the time they got the man’s body to the furnace. Ledger opened the door. “Plenty of room,” he said.

  Together, they hoisted the man into the furnace. Ledger shoved the man in a little deeper with a long heavy-duty rod. Bastian found plenty of dried kindling and a firestick down in the cellar. He placed it on and around the man; Ledger lit the firestick and stuck it inside.

  “What about his family?” said Bastian.

  “I already thought of that. I feel bad, I do. But what about our families and friends? These soldiers killed them purposely, threw them in a pit, and set them on fire. Would they have come to tell us our families were dead if we’d been out of town? No, they sure wouldn’t.

  “I’m not going to waste time worrying about this man’s family. Your parents aren’t dead, but mine are. I know what your dad does, man. He’s mixed up in this somehow, that’s why you got those files. That’s my thought anyway. Regardless, I’m not worried about this dude’s family.

  “No one worried about mine. I mean, I’m not trying to be selfish or shallow. My family had problems, sure, but they were still my family, and they deserved better. And, after what he did to Caleb . . . he’s in there fighting for his life. More will be on the way to kill us soon enough, this is one less,” said Ledger.

  “I totally agree with you. And yes, to be honest, my dad is involved, but please don’t tell anyone. They’ve got him locked in at the CDC, basically kidnapped. Threatened our family. Forced him into a situation he wants no part of. So yes, my parents are still alive for now, but they’re nowhere near safe, and neither are we.”

  “Is that why they chose our town?”

  “Not sure, I believe it’s how they leveraged my dad. It could also be a way to contain leaks ‘n loose ends, which we’re now an extension of. That’s my guess.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word about your dad, just please keep me in the loop, okay?”

  “You got it,” said B
astian.

  They shared a forearm handshake like two young Vikings headed off to war.

  “Come on, the dude in this furnace stinks. Sure isn’t hamburger being barbecued,” said Ledger.

  “Or chicken either,” said Bastian.

  Both wrinkled their noses.

  “Ledger, wait,” said Bastian, “there’s something I need to explain to you about Mary Beth’s death.”

  “Water under the bridge man, water under the bridge. I don’t want to hear it, nothing you could possibly say . . .”

  “You’re wrong, Ledger.”

  “Bastian, I’m telling you, let it go. You need to shut your mouth right now.”

  “Your dad killed Mary Beth, not me.”

  Ledger fumed, boiled inside. “Of all the dirty, rotten things you could’ve said . . . typical Ballentine. Push the blame onto someone else. Just when I thought we might get past this. I should’ve listened to my drunk ole man.”

  The heated exchange grew violent.

  “It’s true,” said Bastian, blocking a swing from Ledger.

  The failed strike infuriated Ledger even more. He tackled Bastian down to the ground. The pair wrestled near the burning stove. Equal in size and strength, a physical battle between them ensured mutual destruction.

  Ledger struck Bastian in the face. “You lying asshole!” he yelled.

  Bastian slugged him back in the cheek, then threw a left to his stomach. The gut-punch didn’t slow Ledger down any; his anger barreled through his fists with every blow. Finally, Bastian managed to subdue Ledger in a wrestling hold, pinning him down. With Ledger’s face pressed into the grass, a red-faced Bastian rushed to explain.

  “Ledger, your dad HIT US, he was drunk. He even got out of his truck and spotted us lying in the ditch. I looked right into his bloodshot eyes. He knew he hit us, or he wouldn’t have stopped to check. He saw me, I know he did, Mary Beth, too. He was so drunk I can only hope that he believed we were dead.

  “He peed on the side of the road, got back in his truck, and drove away—left us there to die. My parents forced me to say it was my fault, so your dad wouldn’t go to jail. So you and your mom wouldn’t starve since he was the breadwinner. I lied to protect your family.