James Hunt

BROKEN TIES

A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World

Day 1 (First Day of Blackout)

The trucks burst through the security gates and peeled out onto the highway. The military MPs were hot on their tails. Gunshots blasted back and forth from both sides. The driver of the lead truck, trying to escape, clicked his radio mic on.

“When do we blow it? Well, how much farther do we have to go? They’ll have air support on our asses in less than two minutes! Roger that.”

The driver clicked his mic off angrily. His passenger next to him, dressed in army fatigues, reloaded his rifle. The name McGuire was pasted on across the uniform.

“What’d he say, Blake?” McGuire asked.

Blake shifted into sixth gear as the speedometer pushed to ninety.

“We can’t blow it until we’re twenty miles out,” Blake said.

“Shit, are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Blake checked the side rearview mirror and saw an RPG flying into the rear truck. The blast almost shook them off the road, and fire and metal flew through the air.

“We’re not gonna make it!” McGuire screamed.

“Tell Team Two to hop on the fifty-caliber,” Blake said.

“Copy that.”

McGuire flipped on the radio and gave the instructions to the truck behind them. A few minutes later, they could hear the thunderous shots of the gun blasting away at the MPs chasing them.

“You sure they won’t be able to crack the code before we launch?” McGuire asked.

“They won’t be able to get through the fire wall.”

“How much further?”

“Fifteen miles.”

“Slow down.”

“What?”

“I’ll have Team Two catch up with us, and then we’ll concentrate fire.”

“Copy that.”

McGuire moved to the backseat of the truck and jumped through the opening in the roof to man the .50-caliber on their armored truck.

He racked the chamber, and when the second truck moved into position, he squeezed the trigger. Between the two guns, they lit up the cars behind them like fireworks.

Blake had the gas pedal almost all the way to the floor. The speedometer was over 100 miles per hour. He did his best to keep the wheel steady, but with the increased speed any sort of adjustments were jerky.

Only twelve more miles.

“How we looking back there?” Blake asked.

“They’re starting to drop back, but we’ve got choppers coming inbound fast,” McGuire replied.

Blake knew that once air support made it their way, they’d be toast. He didn’t have an option.

“McGuire! Come down and take the wheel,” Blake said.

McGuire descended back into the truck, and he grabbed hold of the wheel while Blake kept his foot on the gas. He pulled the laptop from his bag and flipped it open.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, opening files and entering passcodes until a screen finally popped up that read, “Launch Code Sequence.”

“I thought we had to be twenty miles out?” McGuire asked.

“We do.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Keeping us alive.”

Blake finished typing in the last piece of code and hit enter. Behind them, they could hear the blastoff of the missile launching into the atmosphere.

Day 13 (The Cabin)

Mike’s hand twitched on the clipboard and the pen dropped to the floor. He winced, forming a fist, fighting through the pain. He paused, letting his will gather to force his hand open again. Once the shaking subsided he bent down to pick up the pen.

The shelves in the basement of the cabin were still lined with rations, but Mike knew it wouldn’t last them much longer. He’d planned for a six-month supply of food, but that was for five people. Now he had seventeen mouths to feed. If they kept consuming at the rate they were going the shelves would be barren in matter of weeks.

With the inventory done Mike picked up the lantern with one hand and the basket with the morning’s breakfast in the other, and headed upstairs.

Anne was pulling some of the pots and pans out of the cabinet when Mike set the basket on the counter.

“How’s it looking down there?” Anne asked.

Mike handed her the clipboard. She ran her finger down the list, shaking her head as she flipped through the pages.

“How long do we have?” Anne asked.

“Best case six weeks. Worse case three.”

When Mike reached for the clipboard his hand shook from another tremor.

“Mike,” Anne said.

She grabbed his hand and rubbed gently.

“They’re fine,” Mike said.

“Take some of the medicine downstairs.”

“No, I don’t want to waste it. They don’t hurt that bad yet.”

Mike focused all of his will to keep his hands steady when Anne reached down to kiss them. He didn’t want to tell her that it took him twenty minutes in the morning, working through the pain, to perform the simple task of curling his fingers into a fist.

“I’ll start getting everyone up. We need to have a house meeting,” Mike said.

Mike’s dad, Ulysses, was already up when he stepped into his room. Nelson, his son Sean, and Freddy were still asleep on the floor.

“I tried giving the boys the bed, but they wouldn’t take it,” Ulysses said, stepping in between the bodies lying on the floor.

“Don’t give them a hard time about it. They just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“No, they just want to give it to me because I’m old.”

Mike waited to roll his eyes until Ulysses brushed past him. He watched his son for a moment before he woke him. He always enjoyed watching him sleep. Before the EMP blast, everyday before work, Mike would walk into each of his kids’ rooms and kiss them on the forehead before heading to work. It was his ritual, and it helped make the 5 a.m. wake-up time a little easier.

“Hey, bud. Time to get up,” Mike said.

Freddy groaned and rolled onto his back. His Spiderman shirt was pulled up, exposing his belly. Mike tickled him. Freddy squirmed and giggled.

“Dad! Stop!”

“It’s time for breakfast. Get Sean up, will you?”

Nelson woke up, looking groggy, and reached for his glasses.

“Breakfast in ten, Nelson.”

“Right,” Nelson said, yawning.

Mike headed down the hallway to his daughter’s room. Before he reached the handle the door swung open.

“Hey, Dad,” Kalen said.

“Hey, Kay.”

It threw Mike off, her being awake. It wasn’t like her. On the weekends when they had to be somewhere in the morning, he would have to use a crowbar to pry her out of bed, but then again, things had changed since then.

“Breakfast ready?” Kalen asked.

“Your mom’s getting everything ready. You sleep okay?”

“Yeah, it was fine.”

The bruising around her neck had mostly faded with the exception of a few blotches of faint purple on the sides. When Mike arrived at the cabin yesterday, his wife told him what happened while he was gone. She waited to tell him until last night, and it hadn’t left Mike’s mind since. It festered like a disease. His daughter was almost raped, and he was powerless to do anything about it.

Mike watched Kalen head down to the kitchen. He was worried about her. She seemed too put together for what happened. Something didn’t feel right.

“You’ve got quite a girl, Mike,” Fay said, walking up behind him.

Fay pulled her hair back and flipped it through a band, giving herself a ponytail. Mike’s eye went to the pistol strapped to her hip.

“Did you sleep with that thing?” Mike asked.

Fay laughed.

“Mike, who the hell sleeps anymore?”

She slapped his arm and went to join everyone at breakfast.

“Hi, Mr. Grant,” Mary said.

Mike hadn’t noticed her until she spoke. Behind Mary were her two younger sisters starting to wake, both of them dressed in some of Freddy’s and Kalen’s old clothes that were left at the cabin a few years back.

The three girls had been in the town, Carrollton, a mile west of the cabin with their parents on vacation when everything stopped working. Then, a few days ago, a biker gang came through and wiped almost everyone out. Mary’s father was part of the body count. Her mother fared much worse.

Ulysses found them hiding in the tall grass fields on the edge of town. The girls hid there for almost two days without any food or water.

“You girls head for the kitchen. Breakfast will be ready soon,” Mike said.

The last door on the hallway was Freddy’s room. Inside were Jung, his wife Jenna, and their two children, Claire and Jung Jr. Mike brought the To family with him on his way from Pittsburgh to the cabin. He found them in an airport, and when Jung found out about the cabin and where Mike was going, he begged to bring his family along.

Mike knew the dangers of bringing the family with him. He wasn’t sure if they’d even make the journey. On their way here, Jenna was shot in the shoulder. It wasn’t a fatal hit, and Mike was able to get the bullet out. But she lost a lot of blood and without professional medical attention, there was always the risk of complications.

Jung hadn’t stopped shaking since his wife was hit. Before Mike knocked on the door he could hear whispering on the other side.

“Jung?” Mike asked.

The whispering continued. Mike pushed the door open. Jung was kneeling on the side of the bed, Jenna lying motionless on top of the sheets. His head was bowed, and his hands clutched a string of beads wrapped around his knuckles.

The youngest, Claire, was cuddled up to Jenna on the bed, while Jung Jr. sat in the corner reading an old picture book that belonged to Freddy when he was a kid.

Jenna looked bad. Her face dripped with sweat. Her skin was pale.

“Jung?” Mike repeated.

The whispering stopped. Jung looked back at Mike. His eyes were red and strained from either crying or a sleepless night.

“Whenever you’re done, everyone’s in the kitchen,” Mike said.

Jung inclined his head and went back to his whispers. Mike shut the door gently behind him. He knew what Jung was going through right now. It’s what Mike went through during his four-day journey trying to get back to his own family.

When Mike’s family escaped the neighborhood after everyone turned on him he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see them again. He knew that he’d give everything he had to find them, but in the back of his mind stood the looming presence of reality. It was a reality he faced with every step of the eighty miles he walked to get here.

Ray, Tom, and Clarence were up after all the commotion and traffic from people passing the living room where they were sleeping.

The cabin was loud with chatter about what was for breakfast. Stomachs growled and Anne started handing out a few cans of pears. People passed them around as Tom came in to help Anne fire up the skillet.

Mike waited until after breakfast to speak with everyone. He thought it best to tell people difficult news on a full stomach rather than an empty one.

“Hey, everyone, listen up,” Mike said.

The kitchen and living room fell silent. Every eye in the cabin was staring at him. It was an odd feeling for Mike, the air of authority he now possessed; it was an unspoken agreement from everyone he’d helped stay alive. They wouldn’t be here without him.

“With the amount of people we have here now, the cabin is beyond its intended capacity. I built this place with the idea that there’d only be five occupants. Now, there’s more than triple that. I stashed enough food rations and water to last five people six months. With the rate we’ve been going through food and the number of mouths we now have to feed, our food rations will be gone much sooner.”

“So what’s the call?” Clarence asked.

“The husband of the woman who let us borrow the cart to bring Jenna up here is a hunter. He knows the area well. I’m going back there today to see if we can work out an arrangement. See if there is anything we can trade,” Mike said.

“The family of the boy who shot my wife?” Jung asked.

Mike hadn’t noticed Jung join them. The beads were still wrapped tight around Jung’s hands, swinging back and forth.

“Jung, it was an accident,” Mike said.

“I don’t know, Mike. The family wasn’t exactly thrilled to see us when we went there the first time,” Tom said.

“We’re going to need food. It’s better if we’re able to work something out now before things get too scarce. I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but if we end up staying through the winter, we’re going to need to know the game in the area,” Mike replied.

“Winter?” Fay asked. “You don’t think everything will get figured out by then?”

“We can’t count on the power coming back on. While I hope things will get better, we have to prepare for the worst. We have to think long term,” Mike answered.

“Mike’s right,” Nelson said. “We don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s better to be overprepared than underprepared.”

“I want everybody moving in pairs when you’re outside the cabin. Anne and Ulysses will give everyone a breakdown of chores. Everyone pulls their own weight. No exceptions,” Mike said.

He wasn’t sure how the group was going to handle being here. Seventeen people living under the roof of one four-bedroom house for an extended period of time was going to be rough. Throwing in the fact that half of them had only known each other for a few days wasn’t going to help.

Mike pushed it out of his mind. One thing at a time. Right now he just needed to focus on setting up a sustainable food channel.

“Fay, you’re with me,” Mike said.

Anne raised her eyebrow and pulled Mike aside once Fay had turned her back.

“Why don’t you take your dad?” Anne asked.

“I want him here. Ulysses already knows where everything is and you’ll need his help to pick up the slack from Ray and Jenna being down.”

Anne grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him close for a kiss.

“Just make sure blondie doesn’t get any porridge.”

Mike smiled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once breakfast was over, Mike and Fay headed out for the Murth’s farm. The trip there would only take a few hours, but Mike packed a day’s worth of rations for him and Fay that he threw in the cart.

“I’m not to sure of the welcome we’re going to get, so if things go bad don’t hesitate. Either shoot, or run,” Mike said.

“You really think they’re going to just give us food?”

“No, the family didn’t strike me as the type to give handouts, but we might be able to work out a bartering deal. I’m willing to bet I’ve got some things they don’t.”

Mike kept to the east on his way down to the highway. He wanted to avoid getting close to the town. After hearing the stories from Mary and Ulysses about the biker gang, he didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.

Once they made it to the highway, the farm was only a few miles down the road. Mike could see it in the distance.

The farm was modest, roughly twenty acres or so from what he could tell, although he wasn’t sure how much land the family owned beyond the fences. They could have come through the back way, but Mike didn’t want to risk spooking them. The last time he saw them he did have their son at gunpoint.

“You have your safety off?” Mike asked.

“Always.”

Mike swung the gate open and the two of them headed down the dirt road toward the house, the cart kicking up dust behind them. The house was sixty yards away when Mike heard the click of a hammer behind him.

“Drop it,” Ken said.

Mike kept his hands in the air.

“Easy. We’re not here to cause trouble,” Mike said.

“You always keep your rifles on you when you’re not looking for trouble?” Ken asked.

“Put it down, Fay. It’s all right,” Mike said.

Fay placed her rifle on the ground. Mike could feel the barrel of the pistol pressing hard against the back of his skull.

“You have sixty seconds to explain what you’re doing here and if I don’t like the answer I’ll be staining my driveway red,” Ken said.

“Are you Mr. Murth?” Mike asked.

“Who wants to know?”

“My name is Mike. I came here yesterday with your son. Your wife let me borrow your cart to wheel a woman in our group who was injured up to my cabin.”

Mike felt the pressure of the barrel on his head ease. He turned slowly, keeping his hands in the air.

“You’re the guy who shot at Billy?” Ken asked.

Ken Murth looked as rough as he sounded. White and gray scruff covered his face. What little hair he had was messy and tussled. His lower lip puffed out, concealing the dip in his mouth. His face and hands were dark and worn from working outdoors.

“He opened fire first,” Mike answered.

Ken spit a brown wad onto the ground. The juices from the dip dribbled down his chin.

“I know,” Ken said.

It was a father’s order to his son to protect his family at all costs. There wasn’t any remorse in Ken’s eyes, and with the barrel of the gun still aimed at Mike he wasn’t sure how willing Ken was to broker a mutual agreement.

“I was hoping we could talk,” Mike said.

The brown and yellow of Ken’s teeth flashed in a crooked smile.

“Your boyfriend sure has some balls on him,” Ken said, giving Fay a look up and down. “All right. Let’s talk.”

Beth and Billy were walking from the barn to the house when Mike, Ken, and Fay reached the front porch.

Ken insisted on keeping the rifles if they wanted to chat. Mike complied, hoping the show of good faith would build him some trust.

The inside of the house was simple, clean, and neat. The living room was absent of any television, computer, or any electronic device that he could see. A wooden cross with a figure of Jesus crucified was fixed as the centerpiece above the dining room table.

The back door swing open as Mike and Fay sat on the couch in the living room.

“Ken? Who’s in there with you?” Beth asked.

“They’re from the party that Billy shot at,” Ken answered.

“They bring back our cart?”

Ken sent another wad of brown spit into an empty soup can. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and kept his eyes on Mike.

“Yeah,” Ken said.

Billy froze when he saw Mike, then when his eyes landed on Fay he blushed.

Beth set a basket of eggs on the counter and wiped her hands on the front of her apron as she walked into the living room.

“I’m sure you know what’s happened, or at least have an idea of what’s happened. The whole country’s gone down. There’s no power, no water, no transportation, nothing,” Mike said.

Ken laughed.

“Boy, you just described my childhood. What are you getting at?”

“Your son mentioned to me that you’re a hunter, been doing it a long time. I’m sure you know these woods better than anyone. I was hoping we could set up a trade.”

Ken’s head slowly turned to his son. Billy kept his head down. His fingers fumbled with the front of his shirt nervously.

“What else did you tell him?” Ken asked.

“I didn’t tell him anything else,” Billy said.

“I have medical supplies, clothes, ammunition. I was hoping we could work something out,” Mike said.

“What kind of ammunition?” Ken asked.

“Every kind.”

“I see,” Ken said, rubbing his chin. He walked over to Mike slowly. The wooden floors creaked under his boots.

“We can help you hunt,” Fay added. “It’s been a while, but my dad used to take me all the time. Deer, boar, turkeys, I’ve tracked them all.”

Mike tried to hide his surprise at the statement, but he turned his head a little too quickly. She never mentioned anything like that. When he showed Fay how to shoot the rifle at the airport he just thought she was a natural. Now he knew why.

“You provide the ammo for the hunts, along with an extra five boxes each of nine millimeter, two twenty-three, and forty-five shells each month,” Ken said.

Mike extended his hand.

“Done.”

Ken flashed another yellow-stained smile. He squeezed Mike’s hand and laughed.

“Well, okay then. I’ll take this month’s supply up front,” Ken said.

“What?” Fay asked.

“Hey, you came here looking for my help remember? Unless you think you’ll be able to find the game around here by yourself?” Ken asked.

All of those extra mouths had handicapped Mike. It was like he was wearing a pair of cement shoes and then was asked to run a marathon. He didn’t have a choice but to give Ken what he wanted.

“It’s fine. We’ll bring the ammo back first thing in the morning,” Mike said.

“No, I’ll come and collect the ammo now,” Ken said. “Besides, it’ll be nice to know where you are in case we need to stop by for some… sugar.”

Ken looked at Fay when he said it. She took a step forward, but Mike stepped in between them.

“The cabin’s a few hours away. We better get going,” Mike said.

Ken brought Billy with him to help carry the gear back. On the way back Mike didn’t want to show him the entrance from the main road, so he just cut through the forest.

Mike and Ken were up front, while Fay and Billy walked behind them. There wasn’t much talk on the way up. Fay kept her eyes on Ken, while Billy kept his eyes on Fay.

“Your dad always like that?” Fay finally asked.

“Yeah, most of the time. It’s been worse over the past couple weeks. He pretends that what’s happened doesn’t affect us, but it does, especially since the town’s been taken over by those bikers.”

“I heard your grandfather was there when they came in. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“Were you guys close?”

“Not really. My dad and he never really saw eye to eye. They always butted heads. The only time I got to see him was when I went into town alone. I don’t know why my dad always hated him.”

“Well, you know what they say; you can’t choose your family.”

Fay noticed that Billy kept looking away when she would look at him. She smiled.

“So, you have a girlfriend, Bill?”

“Um, no, I… uh… well, not that I haven’t wanted one it’s just, I, um… you know helping out with the farm, and… hey, how much longer till we get to the cabin?”

* * *

Mike spent most of the walk trying to figure out who Ken was, but the man was a closed book. He wouldn’t budge on anything. He wouldn’t say how long he’d lived here, or who he knew in town, and when Mike brought up the fact that it’d be good to get to know each other a bit, Ken simply popped another piece of chew in his mouth and laughed.

So Mike focused most of his brain power on how much food they’d need to ration moving forward. Just because he’d set the agreement up with Ken didn’t mean they’d get food whenever they wanted. They still had to hunt for it.

The only game Mike had seen were a few birds. If they could get a deer they’d be able to cure it and it could last them a few weeks. If he could pull down a deer every other week they’d be in good shape.

“When’s the next time you’re heading out hunting?” Mike asked.

“Mornin’.”

“What time?”

“I’ll let you know when I get my ammo.”

“Look, Ken, if this is going to work we’re going to need a little trust. It’s not like I’m asking for your social security number.”

“You wanna know why the rest of the country’s gone to shit and I’m still alive? It’s because of that trust. Except my trust isn’t with other people it’s with me. I know how to stay alive. I know how to keep moving forward. It’s no skin off my back if no one else knows how to do that.”

There wasn’t any doubt in Mike’s mind that Ken was right about being able to survive, about not needing to depend on others to make it through, but Mike wondered if that’s what he would have to become. Would he have to push everything out of him except his own stubborn will to survive? And if he did, then what did that mean for his family?

“You’re pretty cynical for a man with all those crosses in your house,” Mike said.

“Ha! That’s all of the wife’s shit. She’s the one who dragged our boys to church every Sunday. The only thing I miss from before the power went out was having those Sunday mornings to myself while the rest of them were gone. What about you? Have you found solace in the fact that God will save us?”

The last sentence came out in a sarcastic plea. Mike listened to the stillness of the forest. It was midafternoon now, and there wasn’t even the rustle of leaves, just the sound of their boots crunching on the forest floor and the periodic spit of the man next to him.

“No. Whatever saving happens comes from us.”

Day 13 (Biker Gang)

The bags under Jake’s eyes told the story of his night. It told the story for most of his nights over the past few weeks. The cold concrete of the fountain he leaned against was uncomfortable, but he was too numb to move. The sky was gray, struggling to turn blue with the morning’s rising sun.

Jake took another swig of the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels and finally succumbed to the heaviness of his eyelids.

Find the bitches. Make them suffer. Kill them. Burn them.

He opened his eyes and saw the charred corpses on the ground and the woman tied to the pole. She was the mother of the three girls he believed killed one of his brothers. He ran his hand over the president’s patch on his cut, feeling the outline of the raised letters against the leather.

That patch was his life. The club was his life. Everything he did was for the prosperity of his brothers, the advancement of the club… the amelioration of his own survival.

He walked back to his room at the motel. He passed the open doors of his brothers asleep in their beds, snoring, slumbering from restless dreams.

When he made it to his room, he felt his body collapse onto the dirty sheets of his bed. They were stained with sweat and dirt from the past week. The room was starting to smell. He was starting to smell. The whole goddamn town reeked of death. It was a death that he brought, a death that he would always bring.

Jake tore the sheets off the bed, balled them up, and threw them in the trash. He picked up the pieces of garbage, collecting the empty wrappers and half-eaten sandwiches from the floor. As he bent over, he felt dizzy and collapsed.

The room was spinning. He looked at the whiskey still clutched in his hand. The brown liquid sloshed back and forth. He smiled, laughed.

Jake steadied himself, rose, then began chugging the rest of the bottle in defiance. He wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of him finishing the things he wanted, no matter what the cost.

The last few drops were drained from the bottle and he threw it against the wall violently. The bottle burst into jagged shards that rained to the carpet.

Jake fell onto the nightstand behind him. The lamp crashed to the bed and the blank clock slid into the space between the wall and the stand.

The edges of the smashed glass were sharp when he picked them up. The pieces dug into his skin, drawing blood as he pinched them between his fingers.

When the bottle was whole, the glass was harmless. He could run his fingers along the edges without hurting himself. The bottle only became a weapon when he made it one. The bottle only became dangerous because of him.

Jake liked that. He liked the violence in him. That violence propelled him to lead the storied Diablo Motorcycle Club. Everyone knew who he was back in Cleveland. Everyone feared him there, just as he had made everyone fear him here in Carrollton.

That fear gave him strength. It gave him purpose.

* * *

Kalen waited for her mother to head outside with the rest of the group to start work on the garden. They’d taken what they needed from the basement, but Kalen wanted to make sure she could get the other pistol out of the safe quickly, so she did a few practice runs.

The safe downstairs had been relocked. Kalen searched the boxes for the key but couldn’t find it. She figured her dad must have it. She knew he had a spare, but she wasn’t sure where he kept it.

When she came back up from the basement, her mom was coming back inside.

“Mom,” Kalen said.

“Yeah.”

“Do you know where the key to the gun safe is?”

“What?”

“I wanted to show Mary how to handle a weapon.”

“Kalen, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“We won’t be shooting. I just want to make sure she feels comfortable with it. She’s still pretty spooked about what happened to her parents. I think having some knowledge of how to protect herself will help her feel safer.”

There was some truth to that. Mary was still having trouble dealing with her parents. Kalen just chose to leave out her own motives.

“Okay,” Anne said.

Kalen followed her mom down to her bedroom. Anne pulled the key out of the top dresser drawer and dropped it into Kalen’s hand.

“Just put everything back when you’re done. And make sure the pistols aren’t loaded.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Kalen rushed back downstairs to the basement. Some of the rifles were gone, since her dad left this morning, but there was still a large assortment to choose from.

The .223 Remington with a lever action, the 12-gauge shotguns, and a number of AR-15s were all organized in the safe. There were also 9mm and .45, .22, and .40-caliber pistols lining the inside of the safe.

Kalen grabbed two AR-15 rifles along with several boxes of ammunition and four spare magazines. She placed the rifles, ammunition, and magazines into a duffel bag. She also grabbed one of the 9mm Smith and Wesson pistols and tucked it behind her waistband.

When Kalen found Mary she was outside helping with the garden. She brought her around to the front of the house and pulled out the 9mm.

“It’s not loaded,” Kalen said. “See how it feels. You want it to be comfortable.”

“It’s heavy.”

Mary aimed at one of the trees, peering through the three-white-dot alignment sights. After a few moments, the gun began to shake in her hands. Mary’s face twitched, the corners of her mouth folded downward. Finally she lowered the gun.

“I can’t do this,” Mary said.

“What?”

“Whatever it is you think we can do, Kalen. We’re not soldiers. I don’t know how to fight.”

Mary extended the pistol back to Kalen. It lingered in the air between the two of them. Kalen finally placed her hands on top of Mary’s, stepped directly behind her, and guided the pistol’s sight back up to eye level.

“Those men down there will come for you again. They’ll make you hurt long before they decide to put a bullet in your brain and end you,” Kalen said.

Kalen kept Mary’s hand steady. She continued to whisper in her ear.

“They won’t care about the type of person you are. They’ll only care what they can do to you, every terrible thing imaginable and worse. All of your fears, whatever they are, won’t be as bad as their reality.”

Kalen guided Mary’s finger to the trigger.

“Remember what they did to your parents?” Kalen asked.

Mary’s body tensed up. She could see her father lying on the ground, blood pouring from his stomach, and the biker with the smile across his face. She saw her mother lying on the bed naked with the biker on top of her. She could feel the rocking of the bed as her mother was being raped.

“Once they kill you they’ll find your sisters, then they’ll hurt them,” Kalen said.

She could see her sisters crying, begging for help. When she saw their faces in her mind she could feel a shift.

“Pull the trigger, Mary,” Kalen said.

Whatever fear she was feeling had to be put aside. She couldn’t let her sisters suffer the same fate as their parents.

“Pull it!” Kalen said.

The click of the firing pin went off. Kalen let Mary go and the pistol dropped to the ground. Kalen picked the pistol up, dusting some of the dirt and leaves from the side. She tucked it back into her waistband.

Mary looked down at her hand. It was shaking. She closed her eyes, focusing her energy on forming a fist, trying to squeeze the adrenaline out of her body.

“Are we going to die?” Mary asked.

“Only if we want to.”

* * *

Frankie pulled a state map of Ohio from behind the lobby counter. He spread it out on the desk, and his finger ran along the paper creases from Cleveland to Carrollton. He snatched a pen from a jar and picked up a ruler from the desk.

He placed the end of the ruler on the center of Carrollton and marked a small line a few inches out. He made similar marks of equal length around the entire town. Then he drew a circle, connecting each mark on the map, which encompassed an area around Carrollton.

Frankie tossed the pen and ruler back behind the counter and stormed out of the lobby, grabbing a bag of chips from the food pile on his way out.

When Frankie made it to Jake’s room he was on the bed, cleaning his pistol. Frankie stopped at the doorway before he entered. Scanning the room he saw that the bed was made and the trash from their week’s stay had been picked from the floor.

“Housekeeping come by?” Frankie asked.

“What’d you find?” Jake asked.

Frankie spread the map out on the bed adjacent from where Jake was sitting.

“Carrollton’s the only town for at least twenty miles in any direction. It’s just highways and woods until you get anywhere,” Frankie said.

“What’d Spence find with tracks?”

“Nothing. We think they went through the grass fields.”

Jake slid the rag along the barrel of the gun. He dropped a few bits of lubricant on the barrel’s rim, then wiped the excess clean.

“If they had transportation, we would have heard them. They must have gone on foot,” Jake said.

“Jake, whoever killed Garrett isn’t coming back. They’re long gone. The chances of us finding them are… aren’t there.”

Jake set the barrel of the gun down next to the other pieces on the bed. He tossed the dirty rag in the trash and picked up the different pieces of the pistol, examining each of them individually in his hand.

“Each part of this gun serves a purpose. They all work in an understanding that each element will do its job. The gun needs all of its parts to work properly, and when they do the outcome is exactly what the shooter intends it to be… deadly,” Jake said.

The pieces of the gun clicked into place as Jake reassembled the weapon. When he put the slide back on and slid the magazine inside, he racked a bullet into the chamber, clicking the safety off.

“This club works the same way. If we don’t follow through with our commitment of avenging our brother’s death, then we become as useless as a gun with no trigger. We lose our direction and our bond,” Jake said.

Jake pointed the pistol at Frankie. Frankie took a step back, folding the map in his hands.

“I’ll check the public records. See if there’s any property registered in the woods around the town.”

Jake holstered his pistol.

“Good.”

* * *

The two AR-15s were on Kalen’s bed. She shoved the last bullet the spare magazine would hold, and threw it in the duffel bag. The rest of the magazines were full with thirty bullets apiece. Counting the bullets already loaded into the both rifles, it gave her a total of one hundred eighty shots.

From Mary’s and Ulysses’s description there were no more than twenty bikers in town. Nine bullets apiece, she figured that would be enough.

Kalen stuffed the empty bullet boxes in the bag she brought up from the basement and shoved it under her bed to hide it. The door to her room opened, and Mary came in, holding the pistol at her side.

“When do we leave?

Kalen smiled. She picked up one of the AR-15s and handed it to Mary.

“Now.”

Mary slipped the rifle strap over her shoulder and Kalen did the same. The two headed outside, and before they reached the forest Ulysses stopped them.

“Where are you two going?” Ulysses asked.

“We’re heading to the rifle stand,” Kalen answered.

“Those things loaded?”

“No, but we have some extra magazines… just in case.”

“You should let me come with you.”

“No offense, Grandpa, but we were hoping for some girl time.”

Ulysses threw his hands up.

“Okay. Don’t go far.”

Kalen led them through the forest. They walked for fifteen minutes before she changed course and headed for the town.

“So, what happens when we get there?” Mary asked.

“We’ll be outnumbered, but we’ll have the element of surprise on our side. If we can funnel them into a central location we can pin them down. We’ll be able to take a lot of them out that way, especially since they don’t know we’re coming.”

“What if they stay spread out?”

“Then we pick off as many as we can and keep moving. The moment they know where we are we’ll be in trouble. It won’t matter how many bullets we have at that point.”

Kalen acted as if she were going on a hunt with her dad. It wasn’t any different in her mind. She’d killed before. The only difference this time was the animals could shoot back.

Her mind went back to the man in the forest. The one who tried to rape her on their trip from Pittsburgh to the cabin. She could still feel his hands around her neck. She still remembered the weight of his body on top of hers, the helplessness she felt, and the greedy lust in the man’s eyes. The curling lip that formed a smile was fresh in her mind.

That man didn’t care who she was, what she wanted from life, or how it made her feel. The man had no regard for the nightmares she’d had since that day or the number of pills she took to stop making her feel anything then the hate she filled her mind and heart with to replace the fear. He didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was taking what he wanted.

Kalen knew the bikers in town were the same way. They rode in, killed who they wanted, and had zero regard for what it meant to own something, to work for something, to truly value something.

All of them were the same in Kalen’s mind. There was no difference between the face of the man in the forest and the faces of the bikers in town.

“Kalen, are you okay?” Mary asked.

Kalen was squeezing the rifle’s handle so hard that her arms were shaking. She suddenly became aware of the sweat on her face. Her knuckles had turned white, and when she removed her hand from the pistol grip on the front of the rifle she felt her skin peel off like Velcro.

“I’m fine,” Kalen said.

She wasn’t sure how much time she was going to get before her family realized she was gone. She knew that once her dad came home he’d come looking for them at the shooting stand, and when he saw they weren’t there, he’d be worried.

That was the only thing weighing on her. She knew not coming back alive would hurt her family. She understood what it would do to her father, how it would change him, but this was her choice, and it was a choice she had the right to make.

* * *

The rifle still felt awkward for Mary. She wasn’t used to the weight or the feel of it. Kalen had explained as much to her about shooting as she could. She did her best to pay attention, to try and focus on the task at hand, but her mind wandered.

Thoughts of her mother, her father, and her sisters flashed like lightning strikes in her mind. Her imagination ran wild with the horrors the biker gang was committing on her mother.

At night she lay awake, still feeling the rocking of the bed she was on as her mom lay next to her with that biker on top of her. She could still hear his grunts, heavy breaths, the violent commands he barked at her, each syllable sending a tremor through her body.

The longer they walked, the more she questioned what she was doing. She knew it was fear that was fogging her mind. She tried focusing on the thought of protecting her sisters, but it didn’t seem strong enough to keep the fear at bay.

Mary kept a few steps behind Kalen the entire journey through the woods. She watched Kalen, observed how she moved, how she carried herself. The girl she saw the first day she arrived at the cabin was gone.

Mary remembered seeing her and how out of touch Kalen was. When she took Kalen back to her room where she passed out on the bed, she figured she was on some type of drug. Then when Mary found the bottle of pills in the nightstand, which were almost empty, it confirmed her suspicions.

When Mary told Kalen what happened to her family, she saw something change in her. Mary saw the switch flip in Kalen’s mind. Her resolve hardened. That’s what made Mary follow her. Mary was leaning on Kalen’s strength to help find her own.

“How do you do it?” Mary asked.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not afraid.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you’re doing a good job of hiding it.”

“That’s just it. You can’t hide it. You can’t shove something that big into a corner without it being seen. So you expose it to the light for everyone to see, then instead of you being afraid of the fear, the fear becomes afraid of what you’ve done to unmask it. The fear yields to you.”

“What if you can’t control it?”

“Then it kills you. Either way, your struggle’s over.”

Was that her fate if she accepted her fear? She’d never been in any position like that her entire life. She’d never experienced the type of fear and pain that she’d felt over the past two weeks.

There was a time when the only things she was scared of were the final exams at school and seeing what she got on her report card.

But the lump in her throat wouldn’t give way, and the pit in her stomach wouldn’t fill up. What she was feeling was endless, and she couldn’t see a way out.

* * *

Frankie dumped the rest of the red fuel cans on the concrete next to the bikes. He managed to pull a total of twelve five-gallon cans from the mechanic’s shop.

“We can try and siphon some gas out of the cars, but aside from that, this is it, Jake,” Frankie said.

Jake counted the bikes in the row. Most of them still had some fuel left in the tank, but the majority of them were low. The ride from Cleveland drained a lot of the gas they had. The old bikes they rode here managed to survive the EMP blast because they didn’t have any microprocessors in them, but they also had terrible gas mileage.

“Any bike that’s below a quarter of a tank, fill it up. I want everyone able to ride,” Jake said.

Frankie grabbed two other members, and the three of them started checking the bikes’ fuel gauges.

Jake pulled out the map with the radius of how far the girls could have traveled. He figured they stayed close. There were a handful of cabins Frankie was able to find in the county office. He wanted to start hitting those first. If they traveled through the woods, it would be a good place to start.

Tank, Jake’s vice president of the club, came up behind him. Tank’s eyes were hidden from his shades. His long gray beard was greased with grime and clumped together from weeks without a shower. His belly poked through the space between his cut, the buttons barely holding back the weight behind them.

“Jake, we need to talk,” Tank said.

The two men walked out of earshot of the rest of the club.

“I don’t know if this is the best time for us to be doing this,” Tank said.

“One of our brothers is dead. You don’t want to make sure whoever did this pays for that?”

“You really think those girls killed Garrett? C’mon, Jake. They’re long gone and starving somewhere in the woods.”

“Well, if they’re close by just sitting under the trees in the shade, they’ll be easy to find.”

Jake slammed his shoulder into Tank when he moved past him. Tank put his hand on Jake’s shoulder to spin him around, but Jake twisted the old man’s hand. Tank winced.

“We are going to find whoever did this. I don’t care what it costs us, you understand me? Diablos don’t let one of their own die without the bastards who killed them answering for their crime,” Jake said.

Jake let Tank’s hand go. Tank backed away slowly, both hands in the air, surrendering.

“Okay, brother. Okay,” Tank said.

“And you make sure the rest of the club knows that too,” Jake finished.

Keep the club together. That’s what Jake needed to do. He couldn’t let his club waver now, not with what they had in front of them. He knew his men would need a distraction. If the group wasn’t heading somewhere, anywhere, with a goal in mind, they would fall apart.

Jake passed the pile of burnt bodies on the way to his room. For better or worse, he was their leader, and no matter what hell he brought on them, they’d follow him to the end. That was their brotherhood, a family of death.

* * *

The perimeter of the town was deserted. Kalen couldn’t see anyone on patrol. From what Mary had told her, the biker gang had men on watch around the clock.

When she double-checked the east end of the town, she figured they were either gone or focused on something important. Either way, they had a clear entrance.

When Kalen came back from scouting, Mary looked like she hadn’t breathed since she left.

“You ready?” Kalen asked.

Mary nodded her head quickly, avoiding Kalen’s eyes. Kalen grabbed Mary’s chin and pulled her face toward hers.

“We can’t have any doubts once we cross this line. I need to know now if you’re ready for this,” Kalen said.

“I’m ready.”

“All right then. Stay close behind me. I’ll find you a good spot with cover, and then I’ll position myself. I think they must be gathered together since there aren’t any patrols. Let’s go.”

The two girls left the cover of the tall grass and headed for the first building on the right side. They inched their way up the street, ducking behind cars, doors, anything large enough to hide behind.

Kalen kept glancing back at Mary, still behind her. Every time she checked to see if Mary was there, she expected her to be gone or frozen in the last spot she saw her. Kalen was having second thoughts about bringing her along. She needed someone who was willing to do what it took. She needed to have confidence in her partner.

A team was only as strong as the weakest link, and Mary wasn’t looking very strong. If Kalen’s life came down to Mary’s ability to keep her alive, it wasn’t going to end well. But it was a fate she’d come to terms with.

It was an odd feeling though, thinking about death with such indifference. Kalen never considered it before. It seemed so far away, like a dream you couldn’t remember.

The days of boys, parties, and going to college just weren’t a part of her reality anymore. The only thing that felt real was the rifle in her hands and the extra magazines loaded in her bag, smacking against her back as she pressed forward.

The motel sign was just ahead. Kalen recognized it from Mary’s description. When she saw the group of a dozen bikers starting their bikes, she whipped around to grab Mary’s attention.

“They’re leaving!”

But Mary’s eyes were focused on something in the courtyard of the motel. Kalen followed her line of sight to the pile of black and brown figures stacked around a pole. There was something tied to the pole, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

Mary stood up, oblivious of being seen. Kalen yanked her back down.

“What are you doing?” Kalen asked.

“That’s… a person… on the pole.”

Kalen peered through the scope on her rifle. When the object on the pole came into view, her stomach turned.

It wasn’t a person anymore. It was a charred piece of meat slumped over a pile of another dozen burnt bodies.

“Jesus,” Kalen said.

She wanted to look for a building with a second-story window to give them the advantage of higher ground, but she wasn’t sure if they’d have time now.

A few bikers had already started to weave through the parking lot and onto the street. When three of the bikers disappeared heading toward the west side of town, Kalen checked to see if the others would be joining them, but no one else showed.

“Must be a scout party,” Kalen said.

“Who were those people? What did they do to them?” Mary asked.

“Mary, listen to me. I’m going to the other side of the motel. I’ll fire a few shots in the air to draw them out. When they do, you open fire, understand? If it gets bad, head back for the tall grass.”

“It was a woman tied up there. Who is she?”

“Once you open fire, I’ll start taking them out on my side. We’ll bottleneck them. They’ll think there are more than two of us in the beginning, but that’ll only last for a little while.”

“There’s a reason she’s up there. Why is she up there?”

“Mary!”

Kalen shook Mary’s shoulders, trying to bring her back to the moment.

“You want to help that woman on the pole? The one they burned? The one they hurt? Shoot them, and don’t let up. Here,” Kalen said, giving her two of the loaded magazines. “If you need to reload you shove the magazine in like this, and rack the chamber. You’ll only need to do it once.”

Mary nodded.

“Remember, bring the rifle to your eyes, squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it, and be prepared for some recoil. It’ll hurt the first couple times,” Kalen said.

Kalen took off, leaving Mary behind one of the cars. She kept low, sprinting toward the other side. Once she was clear and caught her breath, she closed her eyes.

Focus. This is why you’re here. You can do this. You can do this. Just do it.

She aimed her pistol in the air, poised to fire the opening shots that would draw the bikers out, but just before she squeezed the trigger she stopped herself.  She peeked back around the corner of the building she was hiding behind and saw row of motorcycles that were still parked in the lot. She smiled.

“Might as well make an entrance.”

She brought the Harleys into her cross hairs and squeezed the trigger. The bullets blasted through two of the bikes closest to her, knocking them over.

The shouts from inside the rooms immediately followed. The bikers had their guns drawn, rushing outside. When Kalen heard the shots from Mary’s rifle, she ran for a parked car that had a better vantage point in front of the motel.

One of the bikers must have seen her because as soon as she ducked behind the car’s engine, she could hear the thud of bullets hitting the metal.

Be patient. Wait for your shot. Draw them out.

There was a break in the firing. Kalen jumped up from her cover. There were five of them she could see. The closest was out in the open, exposed. He tried to make a run for it, but Kalen had a bead on him.

Squeeze it.

The sound of the bullet leaving the barrel and the spray of blood from the biker’s chest was simultaneous. When he hit the ground she moved on to the next.

One of the bikers ducked behind the fountain in the courtyard. He was crouched low, but the top of his head was still exposed. She squeezed the trigger and a spray of bullets peppered the concrete fountain. She missed.

Kalen ducked behind the car again. Another round of bullets volleyed back at her. She could hear the shots coming from her right where Mary was firing from.

Kalen jumped back up on the hood, hoping the biker behind the fountain would give her a better shot.

“Gotcha.”

The bullet sliced the biker’s head in two. Kalen swung the rifle up to the second floor where some of the bikers were coming out of their rooms. She flicked the lever from single shot to spray.

Bullets ricocheted off the iron posts from the guardrail on the second floor. She hit one of the bikers in the leg, and he crumpled to the ground. Kalen sent another spray of bullets into him to finish the job.

More bikers were filling the courtyard now, each of them with pistols, rifles, and shotguns. The cars Kalen and Mary were hiding behind were starting to look like Swiss cheese. The time frame between the bikers reloading was getting smaller.

The side mirror exploded over Mary, sending a rain of glass on top of her. She ducked lower, shielding herself from the endless firing of gunshots.

“Mary! Head to the other side of the street! I’ll cover you!” Kalen said.

Mary nodded. Kalen inched toward the trunk of the car, keeping herself low so the bikers couldn’t see her. When she made it to the rear of the car, the tires exploded, dropping the car lower.

Kalen ducked with it, keeping her head down as more bullets rained down on her. She jumped up and gave Mary the cover fire she needed to sprint across the street.

A few of the bikers had grown bold and left themselves exposed. Kalen killed three more before they could find cover.

As Kalen dropped back behind the car, she could hear the shouts of one of the bikers.

“Send some around back. We’ll cut them off.”

“Jake wants them alive!”

Kalen sprinted back toward the corner of the building where she was earlier. Her feet smacked against the pavement as she fired a few more shots into the biker’s direction, then heard the click of the firing pen.

Empty.

Once she made it to the building’s corner, clear from the exposed road, the empty magazine hit the sidewalk. She loaded a new magazine in and racked the chamber.

She wanted to cut the bikers off before they made it to the other side of town. If the bikers sandwiched them in one of the buildings, they’d be goners.

Kalen ran past the storefronts toward the west side of town, trying to beat the bikers there. She skidded to a stop just before the buildings ended.

Four of the bikers pursued her. They inched their way toward her, moving from car to car up the side of the street and using some of the doors to the shops for cover.

“Shit,” Kalen said.

She looked around, trying to think of a way out. When the bikers came around from the back, she’d be cornered.

It was a good thirty yards from her location to safety on the other side of the street, thirty yards without any cover. She could make a run for it, but it would expose her.

The bikers were getting closer. Kalen could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands gripped the rifle harder. Was this it? Was this how it was going to end?

No.

She still had more left. The dirt flew up from the ground as she dug her heels and dashed for the other side of Main Street. She aimed the rifle back blindly, shooting at random, trying to provide her own cover for the run.

When she made it to the other side, she kept running. She didn’t stop until she made it to the back of the building.

Kalen couldn’t remember how many stores down Mary was or which one she ran inside. The first store she ran inside was the old gun shop. Most of it was cleaned out, but there were still some cases and a few rifles and pistols lying around.

Kalen found two 9mm pistols and a box of ammo. She shoved them both in her bag and did one last scan for any .223 shells for her rifle.

She scanned the barren shelves, desperately searching for more bullets. She shoved a few cases of shotgun shells out of the way and found an entire case of .223 ammo.

She stuffed five boxes into her bag, with the pistols and other ammo she had remaining, and hurried out the back door.

The gunshots coming from the front of the store were becoming more frequent, which was a good thing in Kalen’s mind. As long as the guns kept firing, then Mary was still alive.

Kalen checked a few more back doors before she finally found Mary in what was left of the hardware store. She was still by the front holding her ground. Two empty magazines were at her feet.

“Mary!” Kalen shouted.

When Mary turned around a hail of bullets came down on them, sending both of them to the floor.

Kalen crawled forward, dragging the bag with her, shelves of hardware supplies exploding above her from the gunshots.

A box of nails exploded from a gunshot and sent one of the four-inch nails flying into Kalen’s leg. She screamed in pain. Half the nail dug into her flesh. She reached her hand down, her body shaking, and when she yanked it out, a spurt of blood followed.

She let out a relieved gasp and continued her progression forward toward the front of the store.

Mary covered her ears, her arms around the top of her head, attempting to protect herself from harm. Kalen ripped Mary’s hands off her head and handed her one of the empty magazines and a box of shells.

“Load the magazines,” Kalen ordered.

The first few bullets Mary grabbed slipped out of her shaking hands. She finally managed to pick one up and pressed it down into the magazine. She loaded them as fast as her nerves would let her.

Kalen poked her head over the windowpane. There were a half-dozen bikers advancing at them. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the others in the gang would be behind them. She had to get the gun loaded and have one of them guard the back. It was the only way they’d still have a chance.

Mary held up one of the finished magazines and Kalen snatched it from her. The bullets were still screaming into the hardware store, both of them were crouched low avoiding the blasts.

“Watch the back. They’ll most likely be coming from the left. There’s no cover back there, so they’ll have to duck in between the buildings,” Kalen said.

“What about you?” Mary asked.

Kalen dumped the boxes of ammo onto the floor.

“I’m watching the front,” Kalen said.

Mary grabbed her rifle, a box of shells, and the other empty magazine and crawled to the back.

The bikers’ gunshots were relentless. Kalen knew they’d have to go back and get more ammo soon. They couldn’t keep up the level of gunfire they were doing now.

Kalen took the time to reload the magazines she had and made sure the two pistols were loaded as well. A few moments later the gunfire lightened and she jumped up, rifle in hand, and squeezed the trigger. She was able to hit two of the bikers, killing one while the other dragged himself behind a car.

Then, before she could duck back down, she felt the sharp pain of steel and metal slice through her arm. The force of the bullet pushed her back, and the rifle fell from her hand.

Kalen fell to the floor, pressing her hand against her arm. The blood was warm, sticking to her fingers and shirt as she tried to stop the bleeding. She tried moving, but each time she did sent stabbing pain through the left side of her body.

Kalen could see one of the pistols on the ground. She stretched out her good arm, her fingertips almost touching the composite of the handle, when a boot pressed down on her hand.

When she looked up, Frankie had his pistol aimed at her head.

“Game’s up, sweetheart,” Frankie said.

The rest of the bikers converged on them and dragged both girls to the motel. Neither of them screamed or resisted. Kalen simply kept pressure on her arm, trying to staunch the bleeding.

All of the tortures she was about to experience raced through her mind. When she made the decision to do this she knew this could be one of the outcomes.

No matter what happened though, she wouldn’t scream. She wouldn’t cry for help. They wouldn’t get the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

Day 13 (the Cabin)

Whatever doubts Ken had about Mike in regards to their deal dissipated when he saw the amount of ammo he had stock piled.

There were enough rounds to keep them hunting for the next decade. Mike agreed to give Ken the boxes up front, but he made Ken agree to bring them hunting tomorrow.

“I need fresh game and I need it soon,” Mike said.

“Okay. Meet me at the trailhead that leads down to the road in the morning.”

Mike looked at him surprised. He specifically took Ken the way he did to avoid the trailhead entrance at the highway.

“I’ve been hunting this land for more than forty years; you really think I didn’t know about the road entrance to your cabin, did you?” Ken asked.

“I guess not.”

“Six a.m. We’ll need to get started before the sun comes up.”

Before the two men could shake on it, Freddy came running into the basement. He almost tripped over himself coming down the stairs.

“Dad! You have to hear this! Come upstairs!” Freddy said.

“What is it?” Mike asked.

“There’s someone on the radio!”

Upstairs the entire household was gathered in the living room, circled around one of the radios Freddy had found the day before, protected from the EMP by the faraday box Mike made to store them in.

It was a woman’s voice coming over the radio. Mike couldn’t tell if it was a recording. The sound kept breaking in and out.

“We have food, water, shelter, medical attention, and protection. We have our operations up and running and we are restoring power to our area. If you have the ability to arrive, please know that we can help. We can offer assistance. We can keep you safe.”

“She’s not saying where it is. Where is it?” Jung said.

The rest of the group hushed him. The tension cut through the air as the group waited to hear more.

“Cincinnati has been chosen as the starting point for relief efforts in Ohio. Similar cities have been chosen in other states to act as rallying points in bringing power back online along with other basic utilities. Again if you are in the area and can make it to Cincinnati we have food, water, shelter, medical assistance, and protection.”

The signal went dead, and the woman’s voice was replaced by static. It filled the room as everyone looked at each other, letting what they’d just heard sink in.

“What are we waiting for? We need to get there now!” Jung said.

“Jung, we don’t even know who that was. It could be a recording from weeks ago,” Mike said.

“But shouldn’t we at least try? What if it’s true? What if the power is on in Cincinnati? We have the Jeep. We can send a few people,” Tom said.

“The only highway around here that leads to the interstate has to go through Carrollton. That means dealing with the biker gang that’s down there. A gang that’s killed most of the townspeople,” Mike said.

“We have to try something!” Jung screamed.

The group members around Jung separated themselves from him. His body was shaking. His eyes were desperate, pleading to the group. He had the look of a man who was willing to do anything to save his wife.

Mike understood. It was a feeling he had the entire walk from Pittsburgh to here. He was willing to do whatever he needed to get to his family, but just because Mike understood Jung’s pain didn’t mean he could let him take the Jeep.

“We’ll keep the radio on, Jung. See if anything else comes through. Okay?” Mike said.

He placed his hand on Jung’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. Jung jerked Mike’s hand off him and headed back to his room.

“Okay, everyone. Sitting around won’t make the radio magically work again. Back to work,” Ulysses said.

As the crowd dispersed, Ken let out a whistle.

“Looks like not everyone’s happy to have your hospitality,” Ken said.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Mike said.

The two men shook hands, and Ken headed out the door. Once Ken was gone, Anne came and wrapped her arms around Mike.

“I didn’t think you wanted to bring him back here.” Anne said.

“I didn’t, but it was part of his agreement.”

“You think we can trust him?”

“I’m not sure yet, but we’re going to need the food, so I don’t have much of a choice.”

“What are we going to do about the radio? You think it’s real?”

Mike found it hard to believe the power would come back up that fast, especially after what he saw in Pittsburgh. He figured by next spring the country would be in a better position to rebuild, but maybe it was happening faster than he thought.

“We can’t worry about that right now. We have supplies here that will last us a while, and with Ken helping me hunt, we’ll have a fresh supply of food coming in. How’s the garden coming?” Mike asked.

“Good. We’ve got peas, squash, and corn in the ground,” Anne said.

Mike gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“I’m gonna keep the radio in our room. We don’t need it being a distraction for anyone. Where’s Kalen?”

“She went out to the old shooting stand with Mary.”

Mike raised his eyebrows.

“Did she say why?” Mike asked.

“Mary’s been having some trouble dealing with what happened to her mom. Kalen thought that if she showed her how to handle a weapon, it’d make her feel… safer.”

Mike was worried that the girls had gone out alone, but he felt a surge of pride about his daughter helping Mary.

“Okay, I’m going to get things ready for the morning. I’ll be in the basement if you need me.”

* * *

It was getting dark and Kalen and Mary still hadn’t returned. Mike was getting worried. He grabbed his rifle and decided to head out to the hunting stand where the girls said they were going.

Mike kept his ears open, but the closer he moved to the stand, the more concerned he became. He’d been walking for almost fifteen minutes, and he hadn’t heard a single shot go off. He quickened his pace, his boots smashing the forest dirt underneath.

The stand was only forty yards away, and from what he could see, it was empty. He brought his rifle up and flicked the safety off.

“Kalen?” Mike said.

He circled the stand. There weren’t any shell casings on the ground, no foot tracks in the dirt, no sign the girls were ever here at all.

Mike’s pulse quickened. His breathing accelerated. The irrational panic of his daughter not being here rushed over him.

“Kalen! Mary!”

They’re not here. They never came here, but why? Why would they need rifles if they weren’t-

“The bikers,” Mike said.

Mike sprinted back to the cabin. It was a two-mile hike and usually took close to forty minutes on foot for a one-way trip. He made it back in less than twenty-five minutes.

Ulysses was the first to see Mike burst through the trees into the cabin’s front yard.

“Michael?” Ulysses asked.

“Mary and Kalen? Did I miss them?”

“No, I thought you were going to get them.”

“They never went to the stand.”

Mike could see Ulysses’s eyes make the connection. He was the one who brought Mary and her sisters back to the cabin after he found them in town. Mary’s mother was raped in front of them, and they watched their father die. Wherever the girls went with the guns wasn’t good.

Mike gathered Erin and Nancy, Mary’s sisters, in the living room. The rest of the group lingered in the kitchen and hallway, letting Mike speak to them in semiprivacy.

“I just need to know where they went, Nancy. I’m not mad; I just want to know where we can find them. I want to make sure they’re safe,” Mike said.

Nancy looked up at him, her eyes wide and wet.

“I don’t know. She never told me anything,” Nancy said.

Mike lowered his head. He believed her. The girl didn’t know anything.

“Why did she leave us? She promised me she wouldn’t leave us,” Nancy said.

Nancy broke down crying. Mike scooped her up in his arms. The little girl buried her face into Mike’s shirt, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Anne came over and peeled the girl off of him, rocking her back and forth. The younger sister, Erin, didn’t say anything. She kept her head down, twisting the edge of her shirt. Mike gently rested his hand on the top of her head.

Mike didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he headed for the basement. Ulysses followed. The two of them started gathering as much ammo and weapons as they could carry.

They said nothing to each other as they collected bullets, loaded magazines, attached scopes, and threw holsters around their waist and shoulders. It was an unspoken agreement between a father and grandfather. Their offspring were in trouble, and they were going to get them out.

Fay, Tom, and Clarence crept down the steps. They watched Ulysses and Mike in the glow of the candlelight. Each of them had bullets and guns strapped around their waists and shoulders. They didn’t look like normal men anymore; they were soldiers preparing for war.

“So you’re just going to go in there guns blazing?” Tom asked.

Mike shoved a magazine into his Smith and Wesson .45, holstered it, and looked up at the two of them on the stairway.

“I don’t expect you three to come. It’s going to get bad,” Mike said.

Fay grabbed one of the rifles and started loading shells into one of the empty magazines. She said nothing. She didn’t look at Mike until he put his hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Mike said.

Fay gave a half smile. Clarence was the next to join. He picked up one of the shotguns and found a case of 12-guage shells and started loading.

Tom let out a sigh at the top of the staircase.

“Fine, but I want the biggest guns you have. With my aim, I’ll need all the help I can get,” Tom said.

It took them thirty minutes to gather everything they needed. At least everything Mike thought they would need.

They were loaded to the teeth with weapons and ammo. Mike also thought to pack some medical supplies, which he hoped he wouldn’t need.

Anne didn’t say much. When she walked up to Mike she placed her hands on his shirt, twisting his collar.

“You bring our girl home.”

Mike led Ulysses, Fay, Clarence, and Tom down the trail. Dusk had settled outside, with the night growing darker.

Anne’s words rang through Mike’s mind like a chorus, repeating over and over. He wasn’t going to let his daughter suffer a cruel fate like those he’d seen over the past two weeks. Bring her home.

Day 13 (Biker Gang)

The cots from the prison cell were removed. It was nothing but concrete and steel. Mary sat in the corner, huddled in a ball, listening to the bikers inside the interrogation room scream at Kalen.

Every once in a while she would hear something hard hit the ground, but she never heard Kalen scream. Mary didn’t know what was happening in there, but she was able to imagine a few scenarios.

She wondered why she chose to come with Kalen? She didn’t want to die. Her mind wandered to her sisters. Their faces were burning in her thoughts.

Mary promised she wouldn’t leave them, let them be alone, and now that promise was broken. She broke it to fulfill the selfish need of revenge.

Frankie recognized her immediately when they finally captured her and Kalen. He didn’t say anything to her as he threw her in the cell. He just smiled and laughed.

The laugh wasn’t human. It was senseless, malicious. It was the same laugh he had when he killed her dad and the same smile when he raped her mother.

What would they do to her? Would she be passed around to the other bikers? Used only for their pleasure at the expense of her suffering?

Stop it.

Mary pushed it out of her mind. She couldn’t go to pieces now. As dire as everything was, she couldn’t let her imagination get the better of her. She had to think about what she could control, and right now the only thing that she could control was how she would react to whatever came next.

The door to the interrogation room flung open. Mary rushed to the front of the cell, grasping her hands around the old flaky iron bars.

Two of the bikers dragged Kalen past her cell. Her head was down, her hair covering her face, but Mary could see the drops of blood falling from her body.

Kalen’s body was limp. The biker’s were carrying her by her arms. Once Kalen was out of sight Mary could hear the thud of Kalen’s body hit the cell floor next to hers, followed by the door slamming shut.

Mary let go of the bars and backed to the rear wall of the cell as Frankie rested his forehead in between the cell bars.

“Your turn, sweetheart,” Frankie said.

When Frankie brought her into the interrogation room, the first thing she noticed was the blood stains on the floor. The next thing she saw was the smeared red on Jake’s knuckles.

There were only two chairs and one small table. Frankie pushed her down into the chair across from Jake. The two of them were only two feet apart. She didn’t like it. The setting felt too intimate.

“Whatever you’re going to do to me, just get it over with,” Mary said.

Jake leaned back, wiping his knuckles clean of Kalen’s blood with a rag, which he tossed to the floor when he was done.

“What do you want us to do to you?” Jake asked.

“I’m not giving you anything,” Mary said.

“You don’t even know what we want,” Jake said.

“You want to hurt us.”

“I do.”

The simple answer frightened her. There was a vicious truth in those words. He didn’t just have the ability to hurt her, but the desire.

“I want to see my mom,” Mary said.

Frankie let out a chuckle, but she kept her eyes on Jake.

“I’m not sure you do,” Jake answered.

“I need to see her.”

“No. You want to see her. You want to see her the way you used to see her. You want to see her before what happened here. Trust me, girl. It’s better that you keep the image of what your mother used to be. It’s much better than the image she is now.”

“The last image I have of my mother was her being raped in front of me. The last image I have of my father was his blood pouring out of his stomach and gasping for breath.”

“I’m going to ask you some questions. It will be better if you give me the truth the first time around.”

“I guess Kalen didn’t tell you the truth? That’s why she’s unconscious in her cell right now?”

“She didn’t lie.”

Mary’s mouth went dry. Jake leaned forward on the table. Mary caught herself staring at Jake’s hands. The only bits of blood that remained covered the rings he wore.

Jake twisted one of the rings off his hand and extended it to Mary.

“I was going to clean them off, but I liked the new color to much. What do you think?” Jake asked.

“You’re a coward.”

Jake slid the ring back on his finger. He formed his hand into a fist, his joints cracking the harder he squeezed.

“A coward is afraid. I’m not afraid, and that’s what makes it so bad for you. I’m not afraid to hit a woman. I’m not afraid to make a little girl cry. I’m not afraid to hear them scream.”

Mary felt Frankie place his hands on her shoulders. She could feel the calluses on his hands running up along the side of her neck.

“Did you kill any of my men before today?” Jake asked.

“No.”

Frankie grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her neck. He brought the edge of a blade to her flesh.

“Did you kill any of men before today?” Jake repeated.

“No,” Mary answered.

Frankie slammed her head down on the table. She was able to brace herself with her hands, but she felt the trickle of blood run from her nose over her lips.

“Two days ago one of my men was killed. Who did it?” Jake asked.

Mary wiped her hand under her nose. A streak of blood smeared across her finger.

“I don’t know,” Mary answered.

“The cabin you’re staying at. Where is it?”

Her sisters. She couldn’t give them up. She wasn’t going to give them anything.

“I know you’re staying with a family. I know someone helped you escape. I will find it eventually. The only difference you can make now is how I treat your sisters when I find them.”

They’re bluffing. They couldn’t know where the cabin was.

Jake rose from the table at her silence. He kicked her chair leg, knocking her over and sending her to the floor. He grabbed her arm and flung her against the wall. He slapped her across the face.

When his hand made contact with her cheek, it was like a being dumped in cold water. The pain was overwhelming and shocking all at once.

Jake’s hand came across the other side of her face, harder than the before. Mary could feel her face reddening. The stings from each hit lingered, then replaced by a swelling on each side of her face.

“Where’s the cabin?” Jake asked.

His voice was calm. Mary felt his hand closing around her windpipe. The grip tightened. She gasped for breath. She tried to peel his hand off her but struggled against his size and strength.

The life was being choked from her. Mary started to panic. Her head felt light. Her vision started to blur. Just before she thought she’d pass out, he let go.

Mary dropped to the floor, coughing, hacking, and gasping for air. Jake kicked her stomach. The shot sent pain rippling through her body.

“Give me the knife,” Jake said.

Frankie handed him the blade. He grabbed Mary’s hand, stepping on her wrist to keep her arm pinned down. He dug the tip of the blade into the flesh of her exposed palm, slowly.

Mary screamed. She reached for the knife with her free hand, but Frankie held her down. She writhed and twisted on the ground, crying and screaming as Jake dug the blade’s tip deeper into her hand, cutting away flesh, scraping against the bones.

“Where’s the cabin?” Jake shouted.

“Stop! P-p-please stop!” Mary cried.

Jake pulled the knife out and lifted his boot off Mary’s wrist. Each time she tried to move a finger a sharp pain shot up through her arm.

“Stand her up,” Jake said.

Mary pulled the injured hand to her, pressing it against her chest to stop the bleeding. Frankie lifted her from the ground.

“You wanted to see your mom? Let’s go see her,” Jake said.

Frankie pulled her through the sheriff’s office. She looked back at Kalen still lying on the floor of her cell, passed out. Maybe she was dead. No one could take that kind of pain. They had to have killed her. That’s why Kalen never screamed.

Now, they were going to kill her, probably in front of her mother. More torture. Or maybe they’d rape her in front of her mom, make the both of them suffer more before she died.

They were closer to the motel now. The pain in Mary’s hand was replaced by the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

When they turned the corner, Mary’s stomach started to sink. They weren’t leading her to one of the rooms. They were taking her to the center of the courtyard. They were taking her to the burnt bodies.

“No,” Mary said.

She didn’t want to see them. She didn’t want to hear the truth that was sinking in right now.

“God, no, please don’t, no,” Mary said.

Mary pushed and pulled against Frankie’s grip but she couldn’t break free.

“You wanted to see her?” Jake asked.

Frankie tossed her to the ground in front of the charred bodies, which formed an altar of death. Mary could smell the remnants of flesh no longer covering their bones.

“There she is,” Jake said.

Mary looked up at the corpse, shriveled and still tied with her hands behind her back to the pole. Her mother’s body was rigid, holding her in place.

The woman she knew was gone. She was always told by people that she looked like her mother. They had the same hair, the same eyes. She always wore that compliment like a badge of pride.

Those similarities were gone now. Mary couldn’t prove that she was the daughter of the woman on the pole. She was gone. Completely wiped clean by fire.

Mary fell to her side, sobbing hysterically.

“Mom,” Mary said.

She mouthed the words more than she said them. The spit and tears coming from her face mixed together. Whatever pain they caused her before, whatever pain they would bring her next wouldn’t hurt like this. This was the type of pain that you never came back from. It was the type of pain that you carried forever.

* * *

The room was spinning. Kalen’s vision was blurred. The concrete floor felt cool against her skin. She lay there, motionless, trying to get up, but any movement froze her in pain.

Kalen gently lifted her shirt up. Black and blue bruises were blotched along her rib cage. She managed to roll onto her back. Her hands found her face and she ran her fingertips across the lumps and welts, wincing with each touch.

The last thing she remembered before she blacked out was a fist slamming into her cheek and her body hitting the ground. She lasted a long time, and she didn’t break. She didn’t give them anything.

It was hard though. The hardest thing she’d ever done. There were times where she wanted to give them all the answers to the questions they were asking.

When she raised her head from the ground to get a better look at her surroundings, she saw the door to the interrogation room was open and the room empty. The only thing in there was her blood staining the floor.

Kalen flipped to her belly and crawled to the front of the cell. Her neck strained as she looked down the halls, trying to see where they took Mary.

“Mary?” Kalen said.

Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. The exertion of speaking was painful. Her ribs felt razor sharp, stabbing her insides with each breath, word, and movement. She squinted her eyes shut, trying to block the it out.

Kalen focused on figuring out where she saw Mary last. Did she see her when she came out? No. Her last memories before her blackout were still in the room.

The hardware store? No, they were dragged to the sheriff’s office together. The cells. She remembered Mary being thrown into one of the cells as she was taken to the interrogation room.

“Mary?” Kalen repeated.

Another shot of pain went through Kalen’s stomach; guilt. She was the one who convinced Mary to come. She was the one who gave her the gun. Whatever fate Mary had run into was because of her actions.

Kalen rested her back against the wall. She placed her right hand on the cell bars and gripped the metal tight. Her arm started to shake.

Don’t break. Don’t give in. Fight it. Fight it!

She held the tears back. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to show weakness. If the bikers came back in they wouldn’t find a self-pitying girl wallowing in tears. All they would see was her resolve and the lumps across her face.

Night of Day 13 (the Cabin)

Nelson pulled the sheets over Sean. He bent down to kiss his forehead, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He dimmed the candlelight in the lantern and shut the door.

He walked down the hall quietly. When he reached the living room, Ray was on the couch, his leg propped up on a few pillows as he flipped through the pages of a hunting magazine Freddy had brought up for him from the basement.

Nelson leaned back in the armchair across from the couch slowly and let out a sigh. He closed his eyes and rested his head back on the cushion behind him.

“Crazy day,” Ray said.

“Yeah,” Nelson answered.

“Any reason you didn’t go with Mike?”

Nelson opened his eyes. Ray had set the magazine down and was looking at him.

“What are you getting at?” Nelson asked.

“Well, I know why I didn’t go,” Ray said, gesturing to his leg.

“We couldn’t send everyone,” Nelson answered.

Ray turned back to his magazine.

“I’m not a coward, Ray.”

The magazine fell to Ray’s lap. He turned on his side, making sure he was looking Nelson full in the face.

“No, I know you’re not a coward, Nelson. But you’re also not a man of action. You let things happen to you. You let things happen to your family. You’re no better than the people who burned down Mike’s house in our neighborhood.”

Nelson shot up out of his chair. He marched over to Ray, his temper rising.

“I don’t know where you were when Mike’s house was getting burned to the ground, but I’m the one who pulled him out of the fire. If I hadn’t been there to pull him out, he would have died.”

The words came out in stinging, harsh whispers. Nelson was right in Ray’s face, and Ray grabbed hold of his collar.

“The only reason you were able to pull him out was because you were tucked away in your house. I saw you out there on the lawn. I saw you walk away,” Ray said.

Nelson grabbed hold of Ray’s shirt. The two men locked together. Ray’s body hit the floor as Nelson pulled him from the couch. The commotion caused Anne to run from the hall into the living room.

“Enough! Stop it, you two!” Anne said.

She peeled them off each other. Ray sat propped up against the couch, his leg lying at an awkward angle.

“Now is not the time to start this. Am I clear?” Anne said.

The two men nodded, looking at one another, each breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” Ray said.

“It’s all right,” Nelson answered.

Then when the door to the cabin opened and Nelson looked up, he didn’t think it was real.

Katie’s face was smeared with dirt, and her tattered business clothes were filthy. She almost looked like a stranger, but her green eyes staring back at him were familiar territory.

“Katie?” Nelson asked.

Her name left his lips like a whisper. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before he jumped to his feet and rushed to her. He held her, kissed her, afraid letting go would stop making the moment real, as if she would dissipate into the night air like she had in so many of his dreams.

“Sean? Is he okay?” Katie asked.

“Yes, he’s fine. I just put him to bed.”

Nelson noticed Sam standing there in the doorway behind her, looking unsure of whether he should say anything.

“Sam?” Nelson asked.

“Hi, Nelson,” Sam answered.

“He helped get me out. I wouldn’t have made it without him,” Katie said.

Sam extended his hand, but Nelson embraced him in a hug.

“Thank you,” Nelson said.

Sam patted him on the back.

“Can I see him?” Katie asked.

“Of course.”

Nelson led her to the bedroom where Sean was sleeping. When he opened the door to let her in, she took a moment just watching him sleep. He was still, peaceful.

She walked to him and knelt down by his side. She ran her hands softly along the length of his small arms and legs—a feather’s touch.

Nelson saw the smile spread across his face when he opened his eyes. Sean jumped up and threw his arms around Katie.

“Mom!”

“Hey, baby,” Katie said.

Nelson left them alone. There would be time for words later. For now, seeing his wife with his son was all that he needed.

* * *

Sean fell asleep in Katie’s lap in the living room. She didn’t want to move him; she just let him sleep and brushed his hair with her fingers.

Jung had joined Anne, Ray, Sam, Nelson, and Katie in the living room. The six of them were sitting around, trying not to speak too loudly to wake Sean.

“We thought the relief center would be safe, but it didn’t last very long. All of the hospitals, Red Cross locations, or public welfare stations giving out food rations were looted. It was chaos everywhere,” Sam said.

“Did you guys hear anything about the rest of the country? Is there any spot that’s safe?” Anne asked.

“No, none of the authorities we spoke with had any information,” Katie answered.

“Nobody mentioned anything about Cincinnati?” Jung asked.

“Cincinnati?” Katie asked.

“We have a radio. It works and we heard a broadcast come through,” Anne said.

“It said that Cincinnati was the rallying point for the power coming back on in Ohio. A woman’s voice came through and said that there was food, shelter, protection,” Nelson said.

“Sounds too good to be true,” Sam said.

“That’s what I said,” Ray said.

“I don’t think they’d be able to set something up that fast. And even if they did, there’s no way of knowing if the place is already overrun. I’m sure whatever was set up had good intentions, but people are desperate now. Good intentions will get you killed,” Sam said.

“Where’s Mike? What did he say about all this?” Katie asked.

Katie watched everyone’s eyes shift around awkwardly. Everyone seemed to look at Anne, but Anne focused on Katie.

“Kalen disappeared this morning. Mike went to go find her,” Anne said.

“Oh my God. Anne, I’m sorry,” Katie said.

“Mike wanted us to stay put. We have enough supplies to last us a while, and we just set up an agreement with a local hunter for fresh game. Leaving now would be too much of a risk. We’d lose more than we’d gain,” Anne said.

Jung stormed out of the living room, heading to his room at the end of the hallway.

“It’s a bit of a sore subject with him,” Ray said.

“His wife was shot on the way here. The antibiotics we have aren’t helping with her infection. She’s not doing very well,” Anne explained.

Anne got up from the chair she brought in from the kitchen.

“I’ll sleep in Kalen’s room. You and Nelson should take my and Mike’s room,” Anne said.

“No, Anne, we can’t do that,” Katie said.

“It’s fine. It’s going to be a long night for me anyway, and I probably won’t get much sleep. You two take it. You need the time alone,” Anne said.

“Thanks, Anne,” Nelson said.

The rest of the group headed to bed as Katie scooped Sean up in her arms and let him down in Freddy’s room. She kissed him on the forehead and slowly shut the door behind her.

Nelson took Katie’s hand and they walked side by side down the hall into Mike and Anne’s room.

There was a small glow of a candle lighting the bedroom. Katie walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. Nelson hung back at the door.

“I missed you,” Nelson said.

“I missed you too.”

Nelson walked to her. Each step slow, savoring the anticipation of being with her again.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Nelson said.

“I tried getting out sooner, but by the time we realized what was going on, the city was locked down. Sam tried getting a group of us out, but we were picked up by an army reserve patrol. We went with them, but after six days at the relief center, everything just collapsed. There wasn’t enough food for the number of people who were there. People just… turned on each other.”

“That’s what happened to the neighborhood.”

“I saw the two grave markers at the Beachums’. Is that what happened to them?”

“Bessie was the one who started it.”

“What?”

“She organized half the neighborhood to turn on Mike and his family.”

“Mike killed them?”

“No, Ray killed Bessie and—”

Nelson cut himself short. He hadn’t spoken out loud about what happened that day, what he did. He found himself ashamed to tell his wife, afraid of what she’d think. Would she judge him? Would she think less of him knowing that he took someone’s life?

“What is it?” Katie asked.

“I killed Ted.”

Nelson wasn’t sure how long the silence between them lasted. Each second that ticked by sent a stab into his stomach, which turned over and over again.

Then Katie took his hand and brought it to her lips. She pressed it to the side of her face, her cheek running along the back of his hand.

“You kept our family safe. You did what you had to do. There’s no shame in that,” Katie said.

Nelson exhaled. Of all the answers he thought he’d hear, that was the one he wanted most. He sought affirmation, and she gave it to him. Nelson reached for the candle on the nightstand and pinched the wick, extinguishing the light, letting the room fall into darkness.

* * *

Jenna’s breathing was labored. Her face was dripping with sweat. Jung placed the cloth into the bowl of water, rewetting it, and padded her forehead. She was whispering nonsense, delirious from the fever.

When Jung lifted the bandage off her shoulder to look at the bullet wound, he could see the flesh blackening around the bullet’s entrance point. Red dots lined her arm and crept up her neck. He could feel the heat coming off her body.

Jung didn’t know what to do. The medication Anne gave him wasn’t helping. The only hope he had was to get her to the relief center in Cincinnati, but he couldn’t persuade anyone else to come with him.

They didn’t care. None of them were in the position he was. He was the one with the sick wife. He was the one who had to do something now. Nobody was going to save his family. He had to do it.

All he had to do was find the key to the Jeep. With the car he could make the trip in an hour. Even if they did want to follow him, it’d take them days to catch up by foot. He wouldn’t even need to take any supplies with him, just his family.

He just wasn’t sure how to sneak his wife and kids outside without waking up the rest of the house. There was the window, but it was small, and Jenna could barely stay awake, let alone gather the strength to pull herself from bed.

Jenna started coughing. She hacked and convulsed on the bed. Jung tried to steady her, giving her the cloth to cover her mouth.

She fell back against the bed, trying to catch her breath as the cloth fell from her hand. Jung grabbed it and noticed the red, pinkish stains covering the white cloth.

He had to do something. He had to get her help. He couldn’t let her die here. He couldn’t let their children grow up without their mother.

* * *

Anne paced the backyard, looking up through the branches of the trees into the night sky. Whatever hell she thought she’d been through before didn’t feel like this. Her daughter was in danger. Her husband was about to run headfirst into that danger, and she had no idea if she’d see either of them again.

The cigarette in her hand stayed unlit. She just felt better holding it. It’d been more than fifteen years since she smoked, but tonight she desperately wanted to light it.

It remained pinched between her fingers. Every once in a while she’d bring it to her lips, a motion that felt seamless. She’d let it hang there, dangling from her lower lip, begging to be lit. Then she’d rip it out of her mouth and clutch the cigarette in her hand tightly.

Mike would bring Kalen home. Anne knew that. He wouldn’t let their daughter stay in the hands of whatever creatures were in that town.

A shudder ran through her thinking of what they would do to her if they caught her, of what they’d do to Mary.

Anne just couldn’t wrap her head around why her daughter would leave, why would she put herself in that type of danger? She knew Kalen had been through a lot, but she seemed like she was getting better.

She shoved the cigarette back into the package. She crushed the packet in her hands and tossed it angrily into the depths of the forest.

Night of Day 13 (Carrollton)

The town was dark. The only light provided was the reflection of the moon. Mike, Ulysses, Tom, Clarence, and Fay all moved in unison. Mike and Ulysses were up front, while Tom, Clarence, and Fay brought up the rear.

Mike could tell his father was still limping from twisting his knee a few days ago, but he didn’t have the brain power to concentrate on anything but getting Kalen back.

He knew Fay would be able to keep up, and Clarence was a decent enough shot, but the weakest link of the group was Tom. This wasn’t an elite group of fighters, but it was what Mike had to work with.

“You said there were twenty bikers?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, could be more though. I only got a look at a handful of them, but there were a lot of bikes parked out front at the motel,” Ulysses answered.

The five of them took time to scan the streets on the edge of the town, hiding in the tall grass. If Mike could swing it, he’d like to get his daughter back without having to fire a shot, but the doubt of that happening was growing in the back of his mind.

If the bikers saw or heard him before they were able to get Kalen out, they’d hurt her. Mike couldn’t take that chance.

“Okay, here’s the plan. Fay, Clarence, and Ulysses, you go and set yourselves up on the second story of one of the buildings across from the motel. You have enough ammo to provide a lot of cover fire. I only want you to shoot if you hear someone else shooting first, understand?” Mike asked.

“Of course,” Clarence said.

“Got it,” Fay replied.

“I should be coming with you,” Ulysses said.

“Dad, you’re still limping from the other day. Whoever goes into get the girls will have to be mobile, and right now you’re not.”

“I’m on the ground with you?” Tom asked.

“You stay on my tail the whole way in. You have the silencer I gave you?” Mike asked.

“I got it,” Tom said.

“If the girls are dead,” Mike said, pausing after the last word left his mouth. “Then I’m going to draw the bikers out. And I want to bury all of them. If you have a problem with that, then tell me now.”

The others didn’t say anything.

“Let’s go,” Mike said.

The group took off. Ulysses, Clarence, and Fay headed toward the other side of the street, keeping low until they found a good spot across from the motel.

While Mike tried to be as quiet as possible, Tom marched behind him like an elephant stampeding through a field.

“Try and keep it quiet,” Mike said.

“I am.”

Mike counted the bikes out front. Ulysses was right; there were at least twenty of them. If they doubled up when they rode here then there could be even more.

“We’ll check the first floor and work our way around. I’ll check the windows. You just make sure no one sees us,” Mike said.

“And if someone does?”

“Kill them fast.”

The first few rooms were empty. When they got to the end of the hall and started making their way to the other side, one of the doors opened. Mike and Tom jumped behind a staircase to hide.

The biker never looked their way as he headed through the courtyard. Mike stayed put, making sure he didn’t come back, then made his way to the room he just left.

Mike kept the barrel of the rifle buried in the crack of the door and slowly turned the handle. The inside was dark. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the room was empty.

They left and continued checking the other rooms as they passed them. A few of them had bikers inside, making Mike and Tom crawl for a few feet below the window, but Kalen and Mary weren’t anywhere on the first floor.

The second floor wasn’t any better. All of those rooms were empty. Wherever the girls were, the bikers weren’t keeping them at the motel.

Mike sat on the edge of the bed in the last empty room they checked. The dim light of hope that his daughter was still alive was fading.

Then he heard two voices coming up the stairs outside. Mike raised his rifle, poised to shoot, aiming at the door.

Tom’s head was on a swivel as he kept glancing between the window and Mike. He slowly moved to the back of the room.

Mike positioned himself in the right front corner next to the window so he could get a clear shot.

“I wish Jake hadn’t beaten them up so bad.”

“Yeah, they would’ve been a good lay if their faces weren’t all fucked up.”

“Did he say what he wanted to do with them?”

“They’re supposed to stay alive for now. Jake thinks they got help from people staying in a cabin nearby. We’re going to check in the morning.”

Mike watched the patches on the backs of the bikers’ cuts fade out of view along with the sound of their voices.

The girls were hurt, but they were still alive. The bikers were coming from somewhere, now he just had to find out where they were coming from.

Mike cracked the door and saw one of the bikers turn into a room a few doors down while the other kept walking. He waited until the other biker disappeared into his own room.

“Mike,” Tom said.

“We’ll go down and ambush him. But we have to keep him quiet. I’ll hold him down while you gag him.”

“Mike, listen.”

“What?”

“If we know they’re alive and it looks like most of the bikers will be heading out for a search party in the morning, why don’t we just wait until then to look for them. There’ll be less chance of us getting caught.”

“Because they might not be alive in the morning.”

Tom didn’t have kids. He wasn’t a father. If he could do something to get his daughter out, then he was going to explore every opportunity that presented itself, and right now one of them was less than a hundred feet away from them.

Mike counted the rooms off quietly in this head. One. Two. Three. He could feel his pulse quicken. He checked the window. The room was empty, but the bathroom door was open.

Mike opened the door quietly, keeping the handle turned when he shut it to avoid the door clicking when he closed it.

He set the rifle on the bed and motioned for Tom to do the same. The sound of the urine hitting the toilet was followed by the groan of relief.  Mike put his back to the wall just outside the door, and when the biker came out Mike covered his mouth and held him in a headlock.

“Grab the zip ties out of my bag,” Mike said.

Tom pulled two zip ties and grabbed the biker’s legs, taking a boot to the face in the process but eventually tying him up.

Mike replaced his hand with the biker’s bandana, shoved it in his mouth, then zip-tied his hands behind his back.

The biker squirmed on the bed, struggling to free himself. Sweat dripped from the tip of Mike’s nose as he pulled a blade from his belt. He could see the whites of the biker’s eyes stare at the sharp edge of steal in his hand.

Mike brought the knife to the biker’s throat. The edge dug into his skin, drawing blood that trickled beneath his shirt and onto the bed.

“The girls you were talking to your friend about earlier. Where are they?” Mike asked.

What came out of the biker’s mouth was “duck you,” but Mike figured that wasn’t what he meant.

He slammed the knife into the biker’s calf. The blood oozed from the gash as Mike kept pressure on the blade, digging it deeper into the flesh. The biker thrashed on the bed, screaming into the bandana.

“Where is she?” Mike asked.

The gurgling sound of blood and the cutting of meat followed every twist of the knife Mike gave. He could feel the blade scrape along the bone. The biker’s body jerked and convulsed.

“Harrifs ahffice. Harrifs ahffice,” the biker said.

Mike slammed the butt of his rifle into the biker’s forehead, knocking him unconscious.

“Let’s go,” Mike said.

Mike hurried down the steps and crouched behind a car on the street. He looked up at the second floor of the Laundromat, waving his arms trying to get Fay’s, Clarence’s, and Ulysses’s attention.

He saw Fay wave back, and he pointed down the street toward the sheriff’s office. She gave a thumbs-up in response.

“They’ll have guards inside. We’re not detaining this time. You shoot to kill, got it?” Mike said.

“Got it,” Tom said.

Mike was alert. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His daughter was alive, and he was less than sixty feet away from getting her out.

Then, when Frankie came out of his room and saw Mike and Tom running across the courtyard, everything started to move in slow motion.

“Hey!” Frankie shouted.

Frankie started screaming for everyone to get out of bed. Mike pulled the pistol from his side and fired in Frankie’s direction. When he did, he could hear his sniper team open fire from their position.

Mike kicked down the sheriff’s door, poised to shoot with his finger on the trigger.

Through his sights, he could see Jake with a knife to Kalen’s throat, using her as a human shield. His daughter’s face was bruised and cut. Her right eye was completely swollen shut.

“I knew someone would come for them,” Jake said.

Mike kept his finger on the trigger. He might be able to get a shot off, but it would be risky. Jake had Kalen close. There wasn’t a lot of room for error.

“Let her go,” Mike said.

“I don’t think so. You put your gun down, or I slit her throat right here.”

Mike took a step forward, and Jake dug the blade deeper into Kalen’s skin, making her tense up.

“I’m not bluffing. I killed everyone in this town. One more dead bitch is no skin off my back,” Jake said. “Put the gun down.”

It would only be a matter of time before more bikers came rushing in and put a bullet in Mike’s back, which did Kalen zero good. If he was captured, at least he could be here with her. That was something… for now.

Mike took his finger off the trigger. He lowered the rifle and disarmed himself of all guns, knives, and ammunition.

“Your friend too,” Jake said.

Tom lowered his rifle and put his hands in the air.

“Let’s take a walk,” Jake said.

* * *

Ulysses took the first shot, aiming for Frankie, who was running after Mike. He missed only by a few inches, but it was enough to give Frankie time to duck for cover. The next biker who came into Ulysses’s cross hairs wasn’t as lucky.

Fay opened fire on a group running into the courtyard, ducking behind a cluster of stone statues, which she redecorated with some .223 ammo.

Clarence concentrated on the top floor, for any bikers rushing out. He managed to pick one off, before the other realized where the shooting was coming from.

They were in a good position. Any biker who came out of his room was met with a hail of gunfire.

Ulysses was the first to stop firing when he saw Mike with his hands in the air. Kalen was being dragged behind him with a knife to her throat.

“Fay,” Ulysses said.

She stopped shooting. Clarence did as well. Fay glanced through the sights. Jake’s shoulder was in her cross hairs.

“I think I have a shot,” Fay said.

“No, it’s too close,” Clarence said.

Fay took the rifle off the windowpane and ducked behind the wall.

“Hello, friends,” Jake said.

His voice echoed in the street, hanging in the night air.

“What do you want?” Ulysses asked.

“I want you to come down here, guns and hands in the air, and join us,” Jake said.

“We’ve got a good bead on you from up here, so why don’t we do this? You let our people go, we leave, and no one else dies,” Ulysses said.

“No,” Jake said.

Jake pulled a pistol from the back of his shirt and aimed at Tom’s head. A shot rang out and bits of blood, bone, and brain matter exploded out the side of Tom’s temple. Tom’s body hit the floor, and Jake pointed the pistol at Kalen’s head.

“You come down now, or I continue my new paint job of Main Street with your people’s blood,” Jake said.

Ulysses motioned for Fay to creep back from the windows where they couldn’t be seen. Clarence did the same. His voice was a whisper when he spoke.

“I’m going down. You two head back to the cabin and warn the others. Take them to that farm if you have to, but don’t let any of them come into town.”

“Ulysses, if you go down there, they’ll kill you, Mike, and Kalen,” Fay said.

“I can’t let you go down there alone, Ulysses,” Clarence said.

“They’ll kill them anyway if I don’t go down there. If they think one of us got away that means they still might keep us for leverage. They don’t know how many people we have.”

“Ulysses, I don’t like this,” Fay said.

“Just go. Hurry!”

Fay disappeared behind the stores and kept low in the tall grass until Ulysses couldn’t see her anymore.

“I’m with you. Us old guys have to stick together,” Clarence said.

When the two came out front, they both kept their hands in the air. Two bikers patted them down then threw their arms behind their backs.

Frankie had Kalen, and another biker had Mike. Jake walked up to Ulysses and Clarence smiling.

“Where’s your other friend?” Jake asked.

“It was just the two of us up there,” Clarence said.

Jake brought his pistol up to Clarence’s forehead.

“Never play poker, old timer. You’d lose every hand,” Jake said.

Jake squeezed the trigger and Clarence’s body collapsed to the ground.

“Who wants to play next?” Jake asked.

Night of Day 13 (the Cabin)

Once Fay had put some distance between herself and the town, she jumped out of the tall grass and started the jog back up to the cabin. She had all three rifles slung over her shoulder, which slammed into her back with every step.

When she heard the other gunshot go off in the distance while she was running through the fields she stopped to look back. She wanted to turn back, help them, but she knew Ulysses was right. She couldn’t do it by herself.

She never let up, even with her muscles cramping and burning; she told herself she wouldn’t stop until she reached the cabin. When she finally arrived, she opened the door and collapsed.

Ray jolted up from the couch at the sound of her entrance, and when he saw Fay on the ground, he yelled for help. Sam was lying on the floor and was the first person by Fay’s side.

Anne came in through the back kitchen door. She rushed toward Fay on the ground and helped sit her up against the wall as she took gasps of air, trying to catch her breath.

“What happened? Where’s Mike?” Anne asked.

“They… have him… and Ulysses.”

“Just breathe,” Sam said.

“Did you see Kalen? Is she all right?” Anne asked.

“She’s… fine… Tom’s dead… and someone else… I couldn’t see who though.”

“Jesus.”

“Slow, deep breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth,” Sam said, coaching her to try to get her heart rate down.

“We need to get out of here now,” Fay answered.

“What?” Ray asked, still propping himself up by his arms, trying to listen to the conversation.

“Ulysses said we should head to the farm,” Fay said.

“The farm with the hunter we’re trading with?” Anne asked.

“Yeah, he said that would be a good place to fall back to.”

Jung came running into the living room, hearing the commotion that was going on.

“What’s happening? Fay, are you okay?” Jung asked.

“I’m fine, but we need to get going,” Fay replied.

“We’re going to Cincinnati?” Jung asked, his eyes wide with relief.

“No, we need to get to the farm,” Fay answered.

Jung shook his head. He stepped in between Anne and Fay, pleading with them.

“If something’s happened, then our best chance is to drive to Cincinnati. We can’t stay here anymore. It’s not safe.”

“That’s why we’re going to the farm, Jung,” Fay said.

“No!”

Jung’s voice thundered through the cabin. His body went rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

Sam’s hand instinctively went to his side arm. Anne saw the motion, and she shook her head. Sam let go of the pistol’s handle.

“We need to get to Cincinnati. It’s our only chance to be safe. We can’t stay here. I need to get Jenna to a hospital.”

“Jung, we ca—”

“We have to! She’s going to die if we don’t. I can’t let her die. I won’t let her die!” Jung said.

“Take it easy, pal,” Sam said.

Fay had never seen Jung like this before. When they were at the airport together, he was always so calm, so collected. He was always the first to help, to volunteer.

“Jung, I know what you’re feeling,” Fay said.

“No, you don’t. None of you have a wife who is dying in the room down the hall!”

Jung pushed Nelson and Katie aside, who heard him screaming, and then slammed the door to his room shut.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on him. He’s going to do something reckless,” Sam said.

“He’ll be fine. He’s not dangerous, and… who are you again?” Fay asked.

“Sam,” he said, extending his hand.

“My wife’s bodyguard,” Nelson said, smiling.

“Hi,” Katie said.

“Katie, this is Fay. She’s one of the people who are staying here with us,” Nelson said.

“Nice to meet you,” Katie said, and the two women shook hands.

“We don’t have a lot of time. The gang’s going to find out where we are. They’ll use Kalen against Mike to make him talk. We need to move,” Fay said.

“Did your husband leave any weapons when he left?” Sam asked.

“Yes, I think so,” Anne answered.

“Sam, what are you doing?” Katie asked.

“I can help. I might be able to get your family back, but I’ll have to move quickly. Show me where the guns are.”

Only one rifle was left. Sam grabbed magazines, ammo, holsters, anything that would allow him to bring as much weaponry as possible without slowing him down.

“You’ve done this kind of thing before?” Anne asked.

“Before I got into private security, I was part of the Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment for more than ten years.”

Sam clicked the magazine into the bushmaster and started loading some shotgun shells into the pump action 12-gauge.

Anne placed her hand on Sam’s arm, and his rhythmic motions ceased. He looked down at her.

“Thank you for doing this,” Anne said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Anne let go of his arm, and Sam continued getting everything together. He grabbed one of the hunting knives off the table and slid it into his belt. Two 9mm pistols were at his sides, with four backup magazines, and he had a Bushmaster M4 in his hands and the 12-gauge strapped to his back.

“If I don’t make it back, then that means nobody made it,” Sam said, standing in the doorway.

“Well, then come back,” Anne said.

“Katie, Nelson. Tell Sean I said hi,” Sam said.

“Sam, I can’t thank you enough for bringing Katie here, for keeping her safe. I owe you my life,” Nelson said.

Nelson shook his hand, and then Sam was gone. He trotted off into the forest, leaving the rest of them at the cabin.

* * *

Jung paced the room. Both of his kids were awake now from the shouting from earlier. His daughter was sobbing from being tired and scared, and his son tried to comfort her.

Jenna was still passed out on the bed. She hadn’t moved for hours. She was still breathing, but her body was burning up. He tried giving her more ibuprofen to help bring the fever down, but it wasn’t working.

He needed to move her now. He wouldn’t get another chance. The only people left here who could try and stop him were Fay and Anne. He knew Nelson wouldn’t be a problem, and Ray’s broken leg put him out of commission.

Jung knelt down to his children. He kissed them both on the forehead, and he tried to speak as calmly as he could.

“Daddy needs to get us out of here, okay? Now, I need the two of you to be brave for Mommy. She’s needs our help because she doesn’t feel well,” Jung said.

“Is Mommy going to be okay, Daddy?” Claire asked.

His daughter still had some tears streaked down her cheeks. He gently took his thumb and wiped them away.

“Yes, now when I say it’s safe, I want you to come out and follow me, okay? I love you.”

When he checked the hallway, Anne and Fay were still in the living room. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but both of their backs were turned to him. He slid out the door and tiptoed to the basement.

The gun safe was still open. Almost everything was gone. The only thing left was a small revolver at the bottom shelf. Jung picked it up and tried searching through the boxes of ammo. He had to check three different types of boxes before he got the right size that fit in the gun.

It was a six-shooter, so he took the rest of the bullets and dumped them in his pocket. Before he headed back upstairs, he saw a box of zip ties. He grabbed a handful of them, clicked the hammer back on the pistol, and headed upstairs.

Jung kept the pistol pointed in front of him. Anne and Fay didn’t see him until he finally spoke.

“Give me the keys to the Jeep, Anne.”

“Jung… what are you doing?”

“I’m saving my family. Where are the keys?”

Fay started to get up, but Jung swung the pistol at her.

“Sit down!” he screamed.

“Jung, don’t do this,” Fay said.

“I don’t have a choice. Keys, Anne. Now.”

Nelson came out of the room down the hall again.

“What is going on out he—”

Nelson froze when Jung swung the pistol at him.

“Get in the living room, Nelson,” Jung said.

Nelson kept his hands in the air, moving slowly down the hall. Jung made him sit down next to Anne at the kitchen table.

“So what are you going to do now, Jung?” Ray asked, propping himself up from the couch.

Jung tossed Nelson some zip ties.

“Tie Ray up, then Fay.”

Nelson tied Ray’s hands and legs together then fastened Fay to the solid oak table. Once they were secure, Jung tossed one of the zip ties to Anne.

“Now, tie Nelson up,” Jung said.

Anne looped the zip tie around Nelson’s wrists, then another one at his ankles.

“Good. Now, where are the keys?” Jung asked.

“They’re in my room,” Anne said.

“Katie’s still in there,” Nelson said.

“As long as I get the keys, then nobody gets hurt. I just want to get my family out of here. That’s all.”

Jung walked behind Anne, staying close enough to where he could easily shoot her, but far enough away to make sure she didn’t try anything stupid.

Katie got out of the bed when Anne entered, but when she saw Jung follow her in with the pistol in his hand she sat back down.

“Don’t move,” Jung said.

Anne opened one of the drawers to the dresser and pulled the keys out.

“Now, you two, help me get Jenna into the Jeep.”

The two women carried Jenna from her bed down the hallway. Jung gathered his kids and led them down the hallway, making sure they kept their eyes closed as he guided them.

Anne and Katie propped Jenna up in the passenger seat of the car. They strapped her in and closed the door. Jung put Claire and Jung Jr. in the backseat.

He marched the two women back into the house. He had Anne zip-tie Katie, then Jung tied Anne’s hands up.

“Jung, listen to me. You don’t know what you’re doing,” Anne said.

“I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m doing what your husband taught me to do. Keep my family safe.”

“Not like this, Jung. You’re making a mistake.”

Jung turned to leave, but before he made it to the door, he stopped, turning back to the people behind him.

All of them were restrained. These people helped him. Each of their faces looked betrayed.

“I’m sorry,” Jung said.

“Coward,” Ray replied.

Jung looked at the pistol in his hand. It was shaking. He placed it on the windowsill next to the front door before he left.

When he got in the Jeep, he cranked the engine to life and told his kids they could open their eyes.

“Where are we going, Daddy?” Claire asked.

“To get Mommy some help.”

Day 13 (the Farm)

Ken stashed the bullets in one of the kitchen cabinets. Beth was getting lunch ready and yelled for the boys to come inside.

Billy and Joey came running in from the front yard, chasing after one another and laughing.

“Enough, you two. Sit down,” Beth said.

The two boys pulled their chairs out from the kitchen table and sat down. Ken sat at the head of the table while Beth set their plates down.

“What’d those people say?” Beth asked.

The soup dribbled down Ken’s chin as he slurped it up. He spoke with his mouth still half-full.

“They want food,” Ken answered.

Ken continued to shovel the food into his mouth as he spoke. Joey mimicked his father, taking down big gulps. Billy didn’t eat.

“They have enough ammo stashed in that cabin to last for years,” Ken said.

“So they made good on the deal?” Billy asked.

“Yeah,” Ken replied.

“I think they’re good people,” Billy said.

Ken laughed as he brought the bowl to his mouth and downed the last of the soup. When he was done he slammed it on the table.

“They’re naïve,” Ken said.

“You think we can take them?” Beth asked.

Ken shook his head, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

“No, there’re too many of them right now. The only way we’re going to beat them is to pick them off one at a time. We can use the bikers in town to our advantage. When I take Mike out tomorrow for the hunt I’ll take care of him, then blame the gang. I’ll say they came after us,” Ken said.

“You can’t do that,” Billy said.

Ken cocked his head to the side. His son had never spoken to him in that tone before, never questioned him.

“I’ll do whatever I want, boy,” Ken said.

“You can’t just go back on your deal like that. It’s not right. They’re good people. They could have killed me when I shot that guy’s wife, but they didn’t. They brought me back here. They kept me alive.”

“And what do you think I’m doing? You don’t think I’m keeping you alive?”

Ken rose from the table. He walked over to his son. He glanced down in his soup bowl, still half-full. Billy recoiled into his chair, with his father towering over him.

“Or maybe you think you’d be better off on your own? Getting your own food, protecting yourself, living out in the woods with no bed, no water, nothing. You think people just get things? That they just happen? No, if you want something in this world, you have to take it. And you have to be strong enough to be able to make sure nobody takes it from you once you have it. If you don’t, then you die. End of story.”

“Dad, they’re not trying to hurt us. They’re trying to help.”

Ken looked back at his wife.

“You see the crap that preacher filled his head with? You see what it’s doing now? It’s made him weak.”

“I’m not weak,” Billy said.

Ken slapped his son across the face, sending him out of his chair and onto the floor. Billy crawled away from his father advancing on him.

“You are weak because you trust people. You can’t trust anybody, you understand? If you do, they’ll take advantage of you. That’s how the world works, boy. Even your God knows it. That’s how he controls you. That’s how he makes sure you stay weak.”

Ken raised his hand again, and Billy braced himself for another blow. Ken didn’t hit him. He smiled.

“Hard to believe you’re any son of mine. Finish your lunch. You’ve got work to do.”

* * *

Joey helped Billy pull the cart through the pasture. They’d walk for a while then dump some of the hay in a pile for the cows and horses to circle around.

“Why’d you have to go and make Dad so mad earlier?” Joey asked.

Joey was five years younger than Billy. He’d always looked up to their father in a way that Billy never did. There was always a disconnect between Billy and his dad. Billy was afraid of him. Joey wasn’t.

“It’s not something I do on purpose, Joe,” Billy said.

“He gets angry at you a lot.”

“I know.”

Both Billy and Joey were homeschooled. The town had a school, but it was small. Their mother made the decision to keep the boys out of public school. It allowed her to teach what she wanted them to learn, and it opened up more time for the boys to help with the farm work.

“You think Dad will let me go hunting with him tomorrow?” Joey asked.

“Probably not. There’s too much work to do around here.”

Billy tossed the last of the hay into the pile and then set the cart down for a break. Joey hopped up into the back of the empty cart, and Billy handed him some of the water he had.

“I could do it,” Joey said.

“Do what?”

“I could kill them.”

“What?”

“Those people at the cabin. If I needed to, I could do it. To keep us safe.”

Billy grabbed the water from Joey’s hand. He placed the other on his younger brother’s shoulder. He knew his brother always wanted to please their father and that the two of them shared a similar frame of mind, but he refused to believe that his brother was the same man as their father.

“Joey, you don’t mean that.”

“I do. I could do it. It’s like Dad said—you can’t be weak. And I’m not weak.”

“There’s a difference between being weak and doing the right thing.”

Joey shoved Billy’s hands off him and jumped off the edge of the cart.

“Dad’s right. You are weak. You’re not strong enough to do what needs to be done.”

Joey started walking back to the barn. Billy tried calling out to him, but Joey ignored him.

Maybe Joey and his father were right. Maybe he didn’t have what it took to keep his family safe. But what did that mean? Did that mean he would have to change who he was? What he believed in?

Whatever Billy did now he would have to live with for the rest of his life, and he wasn’t sure if living in what the world was now was even worth it.

* * *

Ken spread the parts of the rifle along his workbench. He ran the cleaning rags along the creases of the inner workings of the gun.

It was completely torn apart. Ken oiled the firing pin around the edges of the barrel and placed little drops along any surface where metal grinded together.

He’d had that rifle for more than ten years. It brought down more deer, boar, and turkeys than any other gun he’d ever owned. That rifle was his prized possession.

It wasn’t because the rifle was expensive. He purchased it for five hundred dollars. He made a few modifications on it, upgrading to a better scope, switching out the stock for one that fit against his shoulder better, but the dollar amount wasn’t what made the gun so special to him.

When Ken was out hunting, tracking game, he felt alive. Out of all the things he’d ever done in his life, hunting was what he loved. There wasn’t anything else like it.

He never understood how people could just sit behind a desk or push paper for a living. He couldn’t grasp the concept of working at a bank or a store. He had to be outside. He had to be in the woods. He had to hunt.

The first time he went was when he was nine. He remembered his father getting him his first rifle. It was just a little .22-caliber, but when his hands felt the wood and steel and the power it gave him, he was never the same.

The moment he had his hands on the gun he was out the door and running for the woods. He had to try it out, see how it felt to finally go shooting.

Ken had been hunting with his father before but was never allowed to actually shoot anything. His father told him he had to earn that right. Once he did, he would be given his own gun.

He learned everything he could in those lessons with his father. He watched how he walked through the forest, the way he carried his gun, his alertness, and the way he noticed even the smallest detail.

As much as Ken hated his father, he did give the old man one piece of credit. He wouldn’t have become the hunter he was without him.

His dad taught him how to track anything and everything. He always told Ken that any fool could aim a gun and shoot an animal, but it took a hunter to find them.

Hunting wasn’t luck. It was a skill, one which Ken had been mastering for the last forty years.

That first day when he was in the woods by himself, he ran across a pair of deer tracks. As soon as he saw them, his face lit up. He kept himself upwind, maneuvering through the forest, tracking the animal.

It was almost an hour before he finally came across them. A mother and her baby were grazing between the trees. The fawn must have only been a few weeks old. Its legs wobbled underneath it.

He knew the .22 wouldn’t be able to bring the mother down, but he knew he’d be able to take the fawn.

Then he remembered what his father told him about the hunting laws, how you could only shoot a deer that was a certain size. He was conflicted. He knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew what he wanted was wrong.

The fawn pranced around its mother aimlessly. Ken could feel the itch of the trigger, just waiting to be pulled. He wanted to do it. He wanted to show his father that he was just as good as he was. He wanted to prove that he could do it, that he was worthy.

When he finally squeezed the trigger, the mother ran and the fawn collapsed to the ground.

It took him nearly twice as long to get back to the farm, dragging the deer carcass with him. He left the deer outside by the gutting station and rushed inside to find his father.

When Ken brought his dad outside, the look on his father’s face was one he never forgot. His father was disgusted. He snatched the rifle from Ken’s hands and told him that he wouldn’t get it back until he learned that hunting was a privilege, not a right, and that he had to learn and understand the laws and abide by them.

The surge of pride he felt from killing the deer deflated out of him and was replaced with anger.

His father taught him something very valuable that day. No matter what you do or how you do it, there is someone out there who can always take away the thing you want the most. And at that moment, he vowed to never let anyone take away the things he wanted ever again.

* * *

With all of the chores done for the day, Billy came back into the house. His mother was in the kitchen, getting dinner ready.

“Mom, have you seen Joe?” Billy asked.

“I think he’s with your father.”

Billy lingered in the kitchen. He wanted to speak with his mother, try and get some perspective on everything that was happening, but he knew she would always side with his father.

“Mom,” Billy said.

The knife sliced through the carrots, each time a thud hitting the cutting board in a melodic rhythm.

“What?” Beth asked.

“I think Dad’s wrong.”

The chopping ceased. Beth wiped the blade clean on her apron and set it on the counter.

“They haven’t done anything to us. Hurting them could hurt us in the long run,” Billy said.

“Billy, your father made his decision. Now, drop it.”

She went back to preparing dinner and dumped the carrots into a boiling pot of water.

“And you agree with him?” Billy asked.

Beth was a small woman, but when she was mad about something she looked larger than her size suggested

“Listen to me. The decisions your father makes are to keep us alive. That’s what he does. You may not like it or agree with it, but it’s something that has to be done. All you have to do is have the backbone to go through with it, because if you don’t, then it could be your brother who dies. Is that what you want? To place other people above your own family?”

“No… I… that’s not what I want, but there has to be a better way.”

“What makes you think they won’t try and steal from us? You think they’re better than us? Is that it?”

“Mom, no, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“That’s because you don’t know what you’re talking about. Listen to me, Son, if you don’t wipe that idealistic bullshit from your mind, then the only thing that you’ll get in return is a bullet from somebody who knows how the world works. How it really works.”

Billy didn’t have a rebuttal, no counterpunch. He was stuck in a world that he didn’t understand. Whatever he thought was bad before all of this happened wouldn’t hold a candle to what was going to happen moving forward.

Night of Day 13 (the Town)

The Jeep bounced back and forth as Jung maneuvered the dirt road. He was going faster than what was safe, but he didn’t care. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and the cabin as possible.

The headlights on the Jeep illuminated the path through the winding trees. It was pitch black, with the trees blocking the light from the moon. The headlights were the only guidance that Jung had.

Jenna’s head bobbed back and forth from the dips and curves of the road. Her whole body was limp.

“Hang on, honey,” Jung said.

When Jung finally saw the road ahead, his heart lightened. All he had to do now was follow the road, and the signs would take him to Cincinnati. He turned west onto the highway.

He was going to make it. His wife was going to live.

* * *

Mike could taste the metallic fluid filling his mouth. He spit the blood on the ground and forced himself to stand up. The biker gang circled him. He could see his daughter, his father, and Mary tied up on the ground watching the beating.

Frankie and Jake had taken turns with him. Whenever one got tired, he would tag his partner in to take his place.

Mike landed a few blows in the beginning, but the arthritis in his hands was starting to get the better of him. He could barely form a fist, and each time he did, it felt like jagged glass digging into his joints.

Frankie danced around him, throwing a few jabs, causing Mike to back up. A sharp pain shot through his left side any time he took a deep breath. He figured one of his ribs punctured his lung.

Mike wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. This was a fight he was going to lose, but he needed to make it last. Every punch he took was one his daughter didn’t have to take.

“C’mon, daddio,” Frankie said. “You’re not getting tired on me, are you?”

Mike forced his hands up. He saw three of Frankie, so he aimed for the one in the middle. He moved in and threw a right cross. Frankie dodged and countered with his own right across Mike’s chin.

More blood and a tooth flew from Mike’s mouth. Mike shook it off. He hit Frankie with a three-punch combo, knocking him to the ground.

“Oh-ho! Looks like the old man’s got some spunk left in him, Frankie,” Jake said.

Frankie wiped the blood from his nose and jumped back up. He slapped Jake’s hand and retreated from the ring.

Jake walked in with a swagger, taking his cut and shirt off and tossing it to one of his guys. He was a lot faster than Frankie was, and he worked Mike’s face like a punching bag.

Mike’s stance started to waiver. He was losing his balance. Everything was starting to fade in and out of darkness. The more he tried to fight it the harder it became.

“C’mon, Jake! Finish it already!” Frankie shouted.

Jake moved in, and with one massive haymaker, Mike hit the ground.

Mike’s whole body was numb. He couldn’t move. This was it. He couldn’t go on any longer.

“Pick him up,” Jake said.

When they moved Mike, he felt like he was floating. He looked down at this feet and saw himself standing, but he couldn’t feel the ground.

Jake walked up and patted Mike’s cheek.

“Hey, fun time’s over. Wake up,” Jake said.

Mike’s head swayed back and forth, looking left, then right, until his eyes finally focused on one thing; his daughter. When he saw her, a surge of strength ran through him.

Keep going. Keep going for her.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed beating the shit out of you, it’s time to take care of business. Since neither of the girls confessed to murdering our brother, and since the two of you have killed some of our club members tonight, you’ll be facing the death penalty,” Jake said.

The bikers grunted in agreement.

“Now, since there are ten of us and only four of you, we can’t all kill you, so I thought it would be better to watch you kill each other,” Jake said.

“What?” Mike asked.

“You’re going to duel.”

“No.”

“Then you watch me kill her.”

Jake pointed to Kalen tied up on the ground. Mike struggled against the bikers holding him, but couldn’t break free. Jake moved in close. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Or maybe I have some fun with her first. How does that sound, Dad?”

Mike’s mind wandered to when Kalen was a little girl. She was riding her bike for the first time. She kept screaming for him to let go, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep her safe, protect her. It was the same instinct guiding him now. After all these years he still hadn’t let go.

“Okay,” Mike said.

“Bring the old man and the girl,” Jake said.

Kalen was tossed over to Jake while Ulysses was shoved into the circle with Mike.

Two pistols were emptied with the exception of one bullet. They spaced Mike and Ulysses ten feet apart.

“The first person to shoot wins, then dies, so take your time,” Jake said.

The gang laughed.

“Oh, and if either of you get any ideas about who you’re going to shoot, let me present to you my insurance,” Jake said.

Jake took out his pistol, cocked it, and put the barrel to Kalen’s temple.

One of the bikers shoved the pistol into Mike’s hand. He gripped it loosely, keeping it at his side; Ulysses had one as well.

“You only get one shot, so make it count!” Frankie said.

All of the bikers placed bets on who would shoot first, laughing, egging both of them on to get it over with.

“Don’t be a pussy!”

“C’mon, pull the trigger!”

“Kill him!”

Mike couldn’t lift the pistol. It was dead weight in his hand. Across from him was the man who raised him. His father was the one who taught him wrong from right. He was the one who made him the man he was today—a good man.

There were times when Ulysses was harder than the steel that poured from Pittsburgh’s mills, but he could say one word to make everything all right.

If Mike didn’t shoot his father or his father shoot him, then his daughter would die. He struggled, trying to bring the pistol up from his waist. His entire arm was shaking.

“I’m getting bored, boys,” Jake said.

Mike finally forced the gun up. His index finger went to the trigger, barely touching the small sliver of steel. Ulysses’s head was lined up in the sights. Tears started to well up in Mike’s eyes. They streamed down his face. He couldn’t keep the gun steady.

“Dad,” Mike said.

“It’s okay, Son.”

Mike’s knuckles turned white against the black composite of the handle. He squeezed the grip so hard he thought it would crush in his hand. He knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and as the gun dropped to his side, he stood there crying, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do it. Dad, I can’t do it,” Mike said.

His father’s figure was blurred through the tears pouring form his eyes. Mike looked to Kalen, who was sobbing. His family was falling apart. He couldn’t save them. Everything he’d done, all he had sacrificed was for naught.

“Michael,” Ulysses said.

His father looked calm. A faint smile grew on his face. It wasn’t a smile of happiness, but one of pain.

“I love you,” Ulysses said.

Mike couldn’t hear his own screams above the sound of the gun when Ulysses put the pistol to his temple and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

Ulysses lay collapsed on the ground. He was nothing more than a pile of flesh, lifeless and motionless. Everything was silent with the exception of the high-pitched hum of the ringing in his ears from the sound of the pistol.

Frankie ripped the pistol from Mike’s hand and put the barrel to the back of his head.

“Congratulations. You’ve moved on to the next round. Too bad it’s sudden death,” Frankie said.

Mike saw Kalen, who was crying hysterically, crumpling to a heaped mess on the floor. This was the world now. This was what happened to people when they had something of value; it was taken from them.

“Good-bye, asshole,” Frankie said.

Before Frankie could squeeze the trigger, the ringing in Mike’s ears was replaced by another sound. He turned his head to the east, and he could see lights in the distance, moving quickly toward the town.

Mike felt the barrel of the gun removed from his head.

“What the hell?” Frankie said.

“Move some of the cars, block the road!” Jake shouted.

Frankie started to run off, but Jake called him back.

“Secure them first,” Jake yelled.

A few of the bikers helped Frankie drag them back to the sheriff’s office, tossing them in separate cells.

Jake’s crew managed to move four cars, staggering them across Main Street.

“When it slows down, aim for the tires,” Jake ordered.

“It’s a Jeep!” Frankie shouted.

When the Jeep came within shooting range, it didn’t slow down. It sped up.

“Fire!” Jake said.

The Jeep smashed through the first car, the front crumpling, but still moved forward. It swerved to try and miss the second, but was met by the gang’s gunfire.

The bullets blew out the driver’s-side tire, and the Jeep lost control, flipping onto its side, and skidded into another one of the parked cars.

Tank was the first person who made it to the Jeep. When he looked inside, he saw the kids crying in the backseat. Jung was stirring awake, and Jenna was motionless.

“There’re kids in here!” Tank shouted.

Tank unbuckled Claire first and then grabbed Jung Jr. Both of them were screaming for their parents as Tank set them on the sidewalk, making sure they were okay.

He pressed his finger to Jenna’s neck, trying to feel a pulse, but there was nothing. The side of her head was covered in blood. He unbuckled her and pulled her from the Jeep, laying her away from the kids.

Jung was starting to regain consciousness when Tank got to him.

“W-where’s Jenna?” he asked.

“Just hold on, pal,” Tank said.

Jung was bleeding from his forehead, and a shard of glass stuck out of his arm.

“What are you doing?” Jake asked.

“They’re hurt,” Tank answered.

“I know. Now finish the job. Let’s get this Jeep flipped over and see if it’ll still run. It could come in handy.”

Tank pushed Jake in the back, sending him to the ground. When Jake got up, he pulled his gun on Tank.

“You gonna make them duel too?” Tank shouted.

“You’re way out of line, brother,” Jake said.

“We can’t keep going down this path, Jake. We don’t kill kids.”

“We’ll go down whatever path I take us.”

“We’ve killed a lot of people since this shit went down, Jake, but we’ve never hurt kids before. It’s not something I’m going to start doing now.”

Jake lowered the pistol and holstered it.

“The kids are on you. Do what you want with them. Take the other two to the sheriff’s cells. Let’s see if they know our friends in there.”

“The woman’s dead. She doesn’t have a pulse.”

“Fine, then take the man.”

* * *

Mike tried to make sense of everything that just happened, but he couldn’t. He just watched his father kill himself, sacrifice his life so Mike wouldn’t have the burden of pulling the trigger.

When Frankie came in and tossed Jung inside the cell with him, Mike was brought back to reality. His wife and son were still at the cabin, and his daughter was still alive; he was still alive. There was still a chance.

“Looks like you’re getting a little company,” Frankie said.

Jung was unconscious when he hit the floor. Mike crawled to him, checked his pulse, and made sure he was still breathing.

“Jung,” Mike said. “Jung, what happened?”

Jung’s reply was nothing but mumbles and groans. Mike couldn’t understand what he was babbling on about.

“Cincinnati… Jenna… I’m sorry,” Jung said.

“Cincinnati? Jung, where’s Anne? Where’s Freddy?”

Mike brought his hand to the side of Jung’s head, and blood stuck to his fingers.

“Jesus, Jung, what happened?”

Jung started to cry. Mike wasn’t sure if it was from the pain or something else. He just kept shaking his head and weeping. The sobs were silent, but every once in a while a gasp would escape.

He rocked back and forth on the ground, curled in a ball, until he didn’t have any tears left. Finally, he spoke.

“I took the Jeep,” Jung said.

“What?”

“Jenna was getting worse. The antibiotics weren’t working. The only way she was going to live was if I got her to Cincinnati.”

“Where’s my family, Jung?”

“They’re at the cabin. I… I tied them up and stole the car and got out of there as fast as I could.”

Jung didn’t look Mike in the eye. He kept his face down, ashamed.

The pain Mike felt was fading away. His father was dead, his daughter was beaten to a pulp, and now a man who he let into his home, protected, fed, and made sure his family was safe, betrayed him.

“Did you hurt them?” Mike asked.

“No, no, they’re okay.”

Mike wanted to smash what was left of Jung’s life into oblivion. There were a lot of things that Mike could forgive, but attempting to hurt his family by stealing from him wasn’t one of them.

“Daddy!” Claire said.

“See? Daddy’s okay. He’s just in here,” Tank said.

Jung crawled to the front of the cell, pushing his arms through the cracks in the bar, grasping his children.

“Are you guys okay?” Jung asked.

Jung Jr. and Claire nodded. Tank unlocked the cell.

“C’mon, I’m taking you to one of the motel rooms. You can stay with your kids there,” Tank said.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Jung said. “Wait. What about the rest of them?”

“You know these people?”

“Yes.”

“Listen, it’s better if you act like you don’t know them, trust me.”

Jung didn’t bother to turn around. He just left with his kids, and Tank locked the cell. If he had turned around, he would have seen a face that haunted him for the rest of his life. Mike never felt more disgusted in his entire life.

* * *

When Sam saw the Jeep heading down the dirt road to the highway, he double-timed it. Whatever made them leave must have been bad.

He still had his business shoes on, which made it awkward to run, especially through the uneven forest floor. Sam pushed through it though. The moment he left the cabin, he went into operation mode.

Every mission he went on as an Army Ranger, he would get into a single mind-set. Complete the objective.

It was all just a job, a task given to him and carried out as quickly and efficiently as he and his team could do it.

When he was done, he felt no remorse for anything that happened on the mission. It wasn’t because he was heartless but because it was the only way for him to keep on living once the mission was over.

Once he made it out of the forest and onto the highway, he was able to pick up his pace. The flat, level road was easier to run on than the divots and tree roots of the forest.

Sam kept his rifle up at all times, scanning the perimeter of the town. When he made it to Main Street, he saw the Jeep flipped on its side.

He could hear some commotion down the street. It was the sound of a child crying. Sam advanced, each step hitting the sidewalk quickly, quietly.

Tank was taking Jung and his two kids up the stairs to the second floor of the motel. Sam watched them go into one of the rooms a few doors down.

Sam peered through the scope. Room 24. He sat there for a moment, taking in the surroundings. The motel had forty-two rooms, twenty-one rooms on each floor. From what he heard at the cabin, there were no more than twenty bikers, probably fewer if Mike was a good shot.

It wasn’t likely the bikers would have bunked up, so they were probably in their own rooms. Sam didn’t see anyone on watch, so they either didn’t have enough men for that, were too tired, or thought they weren’t in danger anymore. Either way, he had the advantage.

Sam wanted to keep this as covert as possible. It wouldn’t do any good to let the gang know he was here by running in guns blazing. He climbed the staircase, pressed his ear to the door of room 24.

There was nothing but mumbles, but he recognized Jung’s voice. He never saw the biker who went in there with him come out, so he’d have to act fast the moment he opened the door. He strapped the rifle over his shoulder and pulled the knife from his belt.

One. Two. Three.

He swung the door open and immediately went for Tank, who had his back to him. Sam made it to him in two steps, and in less than three seconds, he had his hand over Tank’s mouth and the knife slicing his throat.

Jung gasped and jumped back, covering his children. Tank let out a few gargled chokes of breath before he finally passed out.

“Shh, Jung, it’s me, Sam. I’m here to help. Are you all right?”

Jung just stared at Sam, then his face twisted into grief and he started to cry.

“She’s d-dead. I-I killed h-her,” Jung said.

“What? Who’s dead?”

“J-jenna. My w-wife. Oh, G-god.”

Jung collapsed on the ground; both his children were starting to cry now. The louder they became the more attention they’d bring, and that was something Sam wanted to avoid.

“Jung, listen to me, I know you’re hurting, but we have to get out of here now. We can’t stay. I need you to pull it together for me. Do you know where the others are?”

Jung tried to compose himself.

“There… in the sheriff’s office. They have them locked up in the cells.”

“Who has the keys?”

Jung motioned over to Tank, collapsed on the bed.

He patted Tank down and found the keys on the inside pocket of his cut. Then he could hear a voice coming up the stairs.

“Tank, everything all right in there?”

Sam stuffed the keys into his pocket and brought his knife at the ready. He put his back against the wall, hiding himself behind the door. When the biker came in and saw Tank dead with Jung on the bed next to him, he pulled his gun.

“You son of a bit—”

One swift snap of the neck and the biker folded to the floor like a stack of cards.

“C’mon,” Sam said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Sam checked the hallway to see if anyone else heard the scuffle, but no one came. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with Jung and his family. The man was obviously in no shape to fight, and it was too dangerous to move forward with the kids around.

The best bet was to stash them somewhere then come back for them once he had everyone accounted for. .

“Head for the hardware store, then go out the back and hide in the tall grass. I’ll come back for you once this is over. If I don’t come back in the next twenty minutes, then get out of here. Head back to the cabin.”

Jung didn’t say anything. No thank you, no handshake, nothing. He just took his kids and headed across the street, and Sam watched him disappear in the shadows of the store.

Sam made his way down to the sheriff’s office. When he entered there weren’t any guards, no one on patrol, nothing.

He saw Mary and Kalen first, then Mike in the last cell down the hall. All of them were beaten badly. Kalen had the worst of it.

“You guys all right? Just hang on, I’ll get you out of here.”

Sam went for Mary’s cell first, then Kalen’s, then Mike’s. The moment Mike was out, he rushed to his daughter, who collapsed in his arms. Sam didn’t want to break up the moment, but he knew they had to move.

Mike didn’t know the man who just let him out, but he didn’t care. He had his daughter again. It was a small victory for the high cost he paid today.

“Are you Mike or Ulysses?” Sam asked.

“Mike.”

“I’m Sam. Your wife sent me. I came in with Nelson’s wife, Katie. We need to get out of here. I don’t know how many of these guys are left, but I’ve already taken out two.”

“Give me one of your pistols.”

Sam tossed Mike one of his 9mms.

“Any extra magazines?” Mike asked.

Sam handed him two of the magazines he had on him. Mike tucked them into his pocket then clicked the gun’s safety off.

“Take them back to the cabin,” Mike said.

“Whoa, you’re not in any condition to do what I think you’re going to do,” Sam said.

“This isn’t any of your business.”

“Maybe, but I do know that rule number one of war is you only start one if there’s a chance of winning.”

“I didn’t start this.”

Mike disappeared out of the sheriff’s office, leaving Sam with Kalen and Mary.

“Shit.”

Sam grabbed the girls and gave them the same instructions he did to Jung. He handed Kalen the other pistol he had.

“You shoot anyone you don’t know.”

Kalen grabbed Mary, and the two of them leaned on each other, with Kalen gripping the pistol in her right hand as they walked out the door.

Mike was already out of sight when Sam made it to the motel. Sam scanned the top floor when he heard the first shots go off in a room down the hall.

“Here we go,” Sam said.

Once the gunfire went off, the remaining bikers flew out of their rooms, guns loaded, looking to shoot anything that moved.

Sam picked off the first one easy. The other six were smarter than their friends. Whoever Mike was looking for must not have been anyone who came out on the first floor because he went straight for the back of the motel.

Sam didn’t let up. His training kicked in, and he advanced, moving closer to engage, funneling the bikers into a corner.

It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Each shot Sam squeezed off either killed someone or exposed them from their cover.

The only exit the biker’s had was to retreat back into the rooms, and from there they wouldn’t have anywhere to go.

One biker made a run for it in the opposite direction, thinking he could outrun the bead Sam had on him. He was wrong.

The biker’s jaw exploded off his face, and he dropped to the ground. There were only three of them left now; that’s when the bargaining started.

“All right. We don’t want any more trouble.”

“Getting tired?” Sam shouted back.

“We just want to get out of here in one piece.”

Sam reloaded the rifle with his last magazine.

“So did those girls,” Sam said.

He knew he had them on the ropes now. He jumped up from behind the stone fountain he positioned himself against and fired into the corner, where the bikers tried to hide behind the staircase.

Sam sent two shots through the space in the steps and sent each bullet through an eye of the gang members.

Frankie was the only left. He jumped from behind the staircase and aimed his pistol at Sam, but when he squeezed the trigger, all that came out was the click of the firing pin. Sam lowered his rifle.

“Empty,” Sam said.

The biker tossed his gun on the ground and threw his hands in the air.

“You think we’ll be the last? There will be more people like me. You won’t be able to kill us all.”

Sam pulled the knife out. Tank’s blood was still stained on the blade.

“Maybe not, but you’ll do for now.”

* * *

Mike knew he was out there. He saw him run around back, trying to escape. All of his rage was focused on one point; kill Jake.

The pain shooting through his body didn’t faze him. He wheezed with every breath, a knife-like pain stabbed his lung, his hands felt like they were going to break off, but he pushed through it.

He limped along the backside of the stores. When he made it to the edge, he could see Jake running back up Main Street by the storefronts. He was trying to flank Sam.

Mike sprinted as fast as he could. Every movement and breath was like swallowing glass, feeling it scrape along his insides as it slid down his throat and into his stomach.

When Mike heard the gunshot go off, his pace quickened, then when he turned the corner onto Main Street, he saw Jake lying on the road with Kalen towering over him.

“No,” he whispered.

Killing was something you never came back from. It changed you, turned you into something else. That was what it did to him. You couldn’t unpull the trigger. You couldn’t rechamber that bullet once it had been fired.

Jake’s blood pooled on the street, oozing from his neck where Kalen had shot him. Whatever childhood she had left in her was gone forever.

Night of Day 13 (the Cabin)

Freddy waited until he couldn’t hear the Jeep’s engine anymore before he opened the door to his room. He and Sean had stayed hidden inside when Jung was tying everyone up.

Freddy wanted to do something. He wanted to help, but Sean was too scared to move, so Freddy stayed with him. They hid under the bed until Freddy was sure Jung was long gone.

When Freddy came out, his mother let out a sigh of relief.

“Freddy, thank God,” Anne said.

“Mom, are you okay?” Freddy asked.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. See if you can find some scissors in the kitchen.”

Sean ran to his mom, burying his face into her stomach.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help. I was scared.”

“It’s okay,” Katie said. “I’m glad you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

Freddy found the scissors in one of the kitchen drawers and started cutting everyone loose. Anne and Fay were the first ones out the door, but came back in quickly.

“He’s long gone now,” Fay said.

“Why would he do that? I know his wife’s sick, but did he really think this was his best option?” Katie asked.

“Desperate people do desperate things,” Fay said, picking up the revolver Jung had left behind.

Ray propped himself up in a sitting position after Freddy took the zip ties off him. He had his leg on the coffee table and was gently adjusting the splint around it.

“So, what’s the call, Anne?” Ray asked.

“What?”

“Well, right now we know three things: Mike, Ulysses, and Tom are in trouble, Jung took the Jeep, and Sam went to go help Mike. Assuming Sam doesn’t come back and the bikers come looking for us, our one chance of escape is now gone. ”

“You think we should leave?”

“That’s your call, Anne. This is your place, and it’s your family down there.”

Anne knew he was right. She had to be the one who made the call. What did Mike always tell her? Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

“We’ll head to the farm. If things turn that bad, then we’ll have a better place to defend ourselves. We’ll be able to see them coming. If we stay here we’re sitting ducks, especially if they come back tonight,” Anne said.

“What if Mike comes back?” Fay asked.

“If he comes back, then he’ll know where we went. The farm will be the first place he checks. Better to cause him a little worry now and keep everyone safe than try and be stubborn and stay here,” Anne answered.

There was only one problem with the plan they had, and everyone knew it. They just didn’t say it out loud.

Ray couldn’t make the journey to the farm, and if the bikers came back tonight, he wouldn’t survive.

“I’ll be fine, Anne,” Ray said, responding to the look on her face.

“I don’t know how we’re going to move you, Ray, but we will.”

“You leave me a twelve-gauge and a box of shells, and I’ll give anyone who comes through that door a nice surprise.”

“They still have the cart. If we bring it back, we can wheel him out of here,” Fay said. “Just like we did with Jung’s wife.”

“Let’s get started,” Anne said.

Anne had everyone grab a few things. There was the potential of them never coming back, so whatever they didn’t want to lose she told them to bring with them.

Fay still had her rifle. Anne picked up the pistol that Jung left behind and grabbed a new box of ammo, along with some rations, water, first aid kit, and a few spare articles of clothing. She packed enough for both her and Freddy.

There was one shotgun left that they handed to Ray with a box of shells. They moved him over to a chair in the living room where he had a better angle at the door and was hidden from the view of the window.

“We’ll be back, Ray,” Anne said.

“I’ll be here when you do.”

Once everything was packed up, Fay led the group through the trees to Ken’s farm. Anne looked back at the cabin as they departed. This was the second time she was forced to leave her home. It was easier this time, leaving, and that sense of detachment worried her. She wasn’t sure if her family would really ever have a home again.

* * *

Fay was greeted with the barrel of a shotgun sticking in her face when Ken opened the door to their house. It must have been close to midnight by the time they arrived, and the late-night call did nothing to improve Ken’s already less than cordial manner in regards to visitors.

“What in the hell are you people doing here at this time of night?” Ken asked.

“We have a reservation,” Fay answered.

“Don’t get smart with me, woman.”

Anne pushed her way to the front of the group. From Mike’s description of Ken, she knew what she was walking into. Even with the agreement he had set up with Mike, there wasn’t a guarantee that he’d help them, but he was their last hope.

“Mr. Murth, my name’s Anne Grant. You spoke with my husband earlier today,” Anne said.

“What does that have to do with your visit?”

“I know you’re aware of the biker gang in town?”

“Yeah.”

“I think they may be on their way to the cabin. I was hoping we would be able to stay with you until my husband comes back.”

“If your husband went down to face that gang, then he’s as good as dead. And so is our agreement.”

Ken went to slam the door shut, but Anne grabbed it before it closed. She could only see a sliver of his profile through the crack of the door.

“The agreement will still be honored. We can help you bring the ammo back here. One of the members in our group has a broken leg. If we can use the cart to bring him back, we can load the rest of the ammo in with him,” Anne said.

The door neither opened nor closed any further.

“All of it?” Ken asked.

“Yes.”

Anne took her hand off the door. Ken slammed it quickly. The one thing she tried to do to save her family didn’t work. They had nowhere else to go, and without the cart to wheel Ray to safety, there was no telling what kind of fate would befall him.

When the front door swung open, Anne jumped back as Ken stepped out with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

“The cart’s around back. I’ll need someone to come with me to help carry it back,” Ken said.

“I’ll come with you,” Anne said.

“No, him,” Ken said pointing at Nelson. “I’ll need somebody who can pull the weight we’ll have to deal with.”

Anne started to protest, but Nelson assured her it was fine. Before he took off, Anne slipped him the revolver. He didn’t say anything when he felt it fall into his hand. He simply nodded and hid the gun in his pants pocket.

Nelson kissed Katie and Sean and headed off with the cart in tow back toward the cabin.

* * *

Freddy and Sean shared the couch in the living room, while Anne, Katie, Fay, and Beth sat in the kitchen. Beth grabbed a kettle of tea from the stove and poured them each a cup.

“We can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Murth,” Katie said.

“I should thank you. With that ammo we’ll be able to hunt until Ken and I are in the dirt.”

The steam rose from the cup. Katie put it to her lips and sipped slowly. The warm blast of liquid scorched her tongue and lips.

“If that isn’t warm enough for you…” Beth said, pulling a flask from her pocket. “This might help.”

Katie smiled and extended her cup, then winced when she took a sip.

“That’s… strong,” Katie said.

Beth poured some in Fay’s, but Anne declined. Beth took a swig straight from the flask and tucked it back into her pocket.

“Hard day calls for a hard drink,” Beth said.

“How long have you and Ken been married?” Katie asked.

“Going on thirty years now.”

“Nelson and I just hit our fifteenth this past year. Anne, you and Mike have been married for twenty years?”

“Twenty-five next spring.”

Katie glanced at Fay who held up her barren left hand.

“Divorced,” Fay said.

“I’m sorry,” Katie said.

“I’m not.”

Katie glanced around the house. She admired the rustic look of the home. She wasn’t sure if it was a look by design or of purpose. Judging from the look of Beth and her husband, she figured it was the latter.

Then Katie’s eyes landed on the crucifix hanging high on the wall in the kitchen. It was an old piece, but kept in good condition. The polish of the metal shined and reflected the candlelight.

“That’s beautiful,” Katie said, pointing to the crucifix.

“That’s been in my family for five generations,” Beth answered. “It’s always been passed down to the eldest daughter in the family.”

“Do you have any daughters?” Katie asked.

“No, just Billy and Joey.”

“I’m sure it’ll be hard giving it away to one of their wives once they’re married.”

“No, I won’t be giving it to their wives.”

“Why?”

“That crucifix doesn’t just represent the blood of Christ, it has the blood of my family. It’s been with us through wars, droughts, depressions, and no matter what has come our way we’ve always survived. My family has always found a way. It’s never easy pushing through hell, but we did it, and we’ll keep doing it. Some woman from the outside wouldn’t understand that. They wouldn’t appreciate what that pain means.”

Beth pulled the flask back out and took another swig. Katie thought it was an odd statement to make, but agreed that the pain you went through to push forward couldn’t truly be appreciated unless experienced firsthand.

There was an exultation that came from conquering that pain, but when Beth spoke, her tone had no hope, no redemption. It was as if the pain was there not to make you stronger, but make you callous.

“I’ll run and grab you ladies some sheets. I’m sure the boys will be back soon. It’s been a long day,” Beth said.

Beth pushed her chair back, and it squeaked along the wooden floor boards. Anne reached for her arm before she left, and Beth whipped around to her.

“Thank you for helping us,” Anne said.

When Beth was sure she was out of sight from the kitchen she leaned up against the wall. In the dark hallway she felt the guilt wrestling in her conscious. She knew what she had to do, but the conflict raging inside her intensified.

She pounded her fist into the cushioned back of the chair next to her. She punched it over and over again. Each hit, submitting to her guilt.

She brushed the loose strands of her hair out of her face and regained her composure. She walked to the end of the hall and pulled open a closet. The shelves were lined with blankets, pillows, and sewing supplies. She reached into the corner and pulled out a shotgun.

Beth made sure the gun was loaded, then tucked the shotgun under the crook of her arm and walked back to the kitchen.

* * *

Ken didn’t say anything on the way up to the cabin. The only noise the two of them created was the creak of the cart’s wheels as they hauled it through the forest.

Nelson kept touching the side of his pant leg, feeling the outline of the pistol. He wasn’t sure why Anne had given it to him. Was she worried about what Ken might do? Could he be trusted?

He shook the notion out of his mind. Of course he could trust Ken. Mike wouldn’t have cooperated with him if he didn’t believe it. He was overthinking. His imagination was getting the better of him.

Nelson hadn’t done much exploring since he’d been at the cabin, but the times he did go for a walk he couldn’t help but see the beauty around him. Aside from the circumstances that brought him here, he felt like he could be on vacation.

The forest was different at night. During the day he could see all of the details, the small nests in the trees, the bushels of fresh berries, the squirrels and birds traveling from branch to branch. Everything was so green, lush, and full of life.

The walk during the night was cooler though. There was a crisp lightness in the air. But in the darkness Nelson couldn’t see the green leaves or the bushes bearing fruit. Everything was lumped together in shadows.

Nelson felt the cart jerk to a stop, and he stumbled forward a bit. He hadn’t realized they were already at the cabin.

“C’mon,” Ken said.

Nelson made sure to let Ray know who it was before he approached the door. He didn’t want to get a belly full of shotgun beads.

“Ray?” Nelson asked, walking through the front door.

“You alone?” Ray asked.

“No, Ken’s with me. We’re here to grab you.”

Ken pushed his way inside. Ray sat in the dark corner of the living room, aiming the shotgun at the two of them.

“We load the ammo first, then we grab him,” Ken instructed.

Ken didn’t wait for permission, or for Nelson, as he made his way to the basement door. Between Nelson and Ken, it only took them twenty minutes to load all of the ammunition into the cart, but Ken insisted on gathering as much of the other supplies as they could.

Boxes and cases of different caliber rounds weighed the cart down. Nelson couldn’t believe how much Mike was able to stockpile. It was enough bullets to supply a small army. The rest of the space in the cart was occupied by first aid kits, a few tools, and food rations.

“That’s the last of it,” Nelson said.

Ken followed Nelson back inside. When Nelson grabbed the shotgun from Ray and threw his arm around his shoulders to steady him, Ken aimed his rifle at the two of them.

“What are you doing?” Nelson asked.

“Slide the shotgun over to me,” Ken said.

“You son of a bitch,” Ray said.

“No hard feelings, boys, but I couldn’t just let all of these supplies go to waste, not after the bikers finish off the rest of your group.”

“We don’t even know if they’re dead or not. They could still be alive,” Nelson said.

“The gang wiped out the whole town. They killed everyone. Your people walked into a meat grinder. They’re not coming back,” Ken said.

“What about your deal with Mike?” Nelson asked.

“I was going to kill him tomorrow, but it looks like the bikers saved me some trouble.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I can.”

If Ken was going to kill them, then what would happen to Nelson’s family? He just got his wife back, and now he was going to lose her. His son would probably suffer the same fate as him.

He couldn’t let that happen, not after everything they’d been through, not after they were finally together again.

“Well, get it over with then,” Ray said.

Nelson looked down. The shotgun rested at his feet. The butt of the gun faced him and was slightly elevated off the ground. By the time Ken realized what Nelson was thinking, it was too late.

Nelson kicked the shotgun up and sent it flying toward Ken, who dodged out of the way and fired in their direction, hitting Ray in the shoulder. Nelson pushed both of them to the floor and reached for the revolver in his pocket.

When Ken got up, Nelson fired a few rounds, missing Ken completely, but it caused Ken to retreat down the hall, looking for cover. It gave Nelson and Ray enough time to crawl and drag their way through the kitchen.

If Nelson could get to the back door and make it in the woods, then they might have a chance. Nelson gave Ray the pistol.

“I’ll pull, you shoot,” Nelson said.

Nelson grabbed Ray by his shoulders and pulled him through the dirt toward the trees. Ken appeared in the doorway, and Ray squeezed a few rounds off.

The kitchen window’s glass shattered, and Ken shoved his rifle through the opening, firing shots in their direction.

Nelson gave one last heave and pulled both he and Ray behind a tree, shielding themselves from the barrage of bullets splintering the oak’s trunk.

Ray kept reaching for his leg, wincing. When Nelson tried to adjust the splint, Ray screamed and smacked his hand away.

“Sorry,” Nelson said.

Ray’s breath was labored. Nelson didn’t know what to do. There was no way he could drag Ray through the woods, not in the condition he was in.

“Just go,” Ray said.

“What?”

“I’ll hold him off as long as I can.”

“Ray, I’m not going to leave you here.”

“If you don’t go and warn Mike, then his family’s going to die, if they haven’t killed them already.”

Ray pushed Nelson backward, pointing for him to run. Another spray of bullets peppered the tree behind them.

“You’re not being a coward for leaving me here, Nelson. This is my choice. Now, go,” Ray said.

Nelson grabbed Ray’s hand and squeezed tight.

“Good luck,” Nelson said.

“You, too.”

Ray gave Nelson some cover fire as he disappeared deeper into the woods then checked the revolver, seeing how many bullets he had left.

Two.

He knew his fate the moment he chose to stay behind. Ken had an unlimited supply of ammo within an arm’s reach, and Ray couldn’t hobble more than a few feet without crashing to the ground. He was a sitting duck.

“Hey!” Ray shouted.

The firing ceased. Ray pushed himself off the ground with his good leg, using the tree trunk to help give him leverage. His leg felt like it was going to explode.

“You go back on your deals that quick?” Ray asked.

Gunfire blasted the tree again. Ray ducked, trying to shield himself from the ricochet.

“Guess so,” Ray mumbled.

After a moment, everything was silent. Ray aimed the pistol at the cabin, switching targets between the door and the kitchen window, but he couldn’t see Ken.

“Drop it,” Ken said.

Ray froze. The pistol hit the ground and he put his hands in the air.

“Where’d he go?” Ken asked.

Ray said nothing. He wouldn’t let his last breaths in life betray the people who helped him.

“You think I’m a bad man, don’t you?” Ken asked.

“I think you’re a coward.”

Ken laughed.

“You people. In all of your self-righteous bullshit you think that the act of sacrifice is so noble, that we should all elevate ourselves to your level. Well, this is what you get for your noble deeds.”

The barrel of the gun pressed firmly against Ray’s forehead. It was hot, burning a circle into his skin. Ray didn’t move; whatever pain Ken would put him through he wasn’t going to give him any satisfaction of showing that he was hurting.

“Surviving without a soul isn’t living,” Ray said.

“Neither is having a bullet in your brain.”

Ken squeezed the trigger, and Ray’s body hit the ground.

Night of Day 13 (the Town)

Mike wheezed; the pain in his side was sharp. He stood above his father’s body. There were bits of bone and splashes of blood strewn around Ulysses’s head where the bullet entered and left.

The gun Ulysses used on himself lay by his side. His eyes were still open, staring up into the night sky.

Nothing seemed real at that moment. This town Mike was in couldn’t exist. That wasn’t his father dead on the ground. This wasn’t his broken body he was trapped in. That wasn’t his daughter who was almost beaten to death. This wasn’t his life.

“Mike?” Sam asked.

The graveyard where his mother was buried had an empty spot right next to her. That’s where his father should be right now. He wanted to take him home, away from this hell he died in.

“Mike, we need to get you checked out. Your daughter’s over at the pharmacy,” Sam said.

“What?”

“Your daughter.”

“Right.”

He couldn’t dwell on the pain he was feeling now. His daughter was still alive. He still had a family to protect. He still had a job to do.

The town felt quiet after the gunfight. There wasn’t any motion in the town now. At one point in time this place was filled with people enjoying their lives, people with a purpose.

When the biker gang came through, all of that was replaced with fear and death. Now that the bikers were gone, the town was filled with neither fear nor purpose. It was just there, a shell of what it used to be, frozen in time.

Mike’s Jeep was still flipped on its side. On the sidewalk next to it Jung rocked Jenna back and forth in his arms. Mike could see the pain on his face, and when he thought to himself that whatever pain Jung received was justified, he felt no guilt.

Most of the pharmacy was barren. The bikers had come through like locusts, pillaging the stores, stealing supplies, destroying what they wanted.

Kalen sifted through the bottles and supplies thrown on the ground. When Mike walked in, she turned around.

The only thing worse than seeing his daughter beaten and bloody was the knowledge of what she had seen. He knew the bruises would fade, the bones would mend, and the wounds would close, but the violence she’d been exposed to, witnessing evil in its most terrible forms and letting it become a part of you… that was a scar that would leave its mark for a very, very long time.

Mike picked up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a bag of cotton balls. He led Kalen over to the counter. She hopped on top of it. Mike dumped some of the peroxide onto the cotton ball.

Kalen winced when the peroxide made contact. Mike ran the cotton ball gently along the cuts on her face.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Kalen said.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Grandpa’s dead, you’re hurt, everyone is hurt. I shouldn’t have come here. It was stupid.”

Mike knew whatever words left his mouth now would have a deciding factor in the type of life his daughter would have moving forward. He knew the guilt she was feeling. It was a guilt that could consume her life, send her into a spiral that she wouldn’t be able to come out of.

“You came here because of what these people did. You stood up to those who tried to hurt you and the people you care about,” Mike said.

“Your dad’s right,” Mary said.

Mike hadn’t seen her when he entered. He couldn’t make out the features on her face, but the tone of her voice made her sound older than she was.

“Whatever we lost today, we gained more by not having that gang here anymore. All of them deserved to die,” Mary said.

“When someone pushes you to the brink of killing, when it comes down to your survival or the survival of your family, then you do what you have to do,” Mike said. “No repentance.”

Kalen nodded and leaned into his chest. He hoped the words reached her. It would take time, he knew that, for her to accept it, but he wanted it to be sooner rather than later.

Sam helped patch them up as best he could. Most of the injuries would heal over time. When Sam checked Mike out he agreed that one of the ribs punctured a lung, but only time would tell how bad it really was.

Jung was still on the sidewalk, his children on either side of him. His kids were crying, but he wasn’t.

Mike wanted to hurt him, even more than the pain he was going through right now. All of those talks Mike had with Jung about trusting people, about having faith, were all erased by what he did.

Ulysses always taught Mike that he needed to have something to stand for; he needed a line in the sand. Every man did. That value was your guiding path, and no matter what, you never went back on it.

And that was exactly what Jung did. The line in the sand he so proudly towed, all of it was a lie.

“Mike,” Jung said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Mike said nothing. He simply turned his back and started the long walk back to the cabin.

“You’re just going to leave them here?” Sam asked.

“Yes.”

“What about the kids?”

Mike knew what type of fate he would be leaving them to, but that was his line in the sand. He wouldn’t sacrifice the safety of his family for the well-being of others.

“It’s a father’s job to protect his children. That’s his responsibility. Not mine,” Mike said.

Before Mike left, he wanted to bury Ulysses. He grabbed some shovels from the hardware store and picked a spot on the edge of town by the tall grass. Sam helped him dig the grave, and once they were six feet down, he wrapped his father’s body in a tarp and carried him to the spot. This was as close to a funeral as there was going to be.

“My father was a good man. He loved his family, his work, and the Pittsburgh Pirates,” Mike said.

Everyone gave a slight smile.

“He was a man who always stood up for what he believed in, no matter the cost. He couldn’t be bribed, threatened, or beaten into anything he didn’t want to do. In his last moments on Earth, he held true to that belief that he was in control of everything he did. He had a choice, and he made the choice to keep his family safe,” Mike said.

The tears started to flow now. All of the memories of his childhood, being with his father, collided with the reality that he’d never see his dad again. He would no longer be able to ask him for advice, to hear his words of comfort and wisdom when he needed them most. A pillar in Mike’s life was struck down, and for the first time he wondered whether he would be able to go on.

“I never knew, or will ever know, a better man, husband, or father than my dad,” Mike said.

The first tear that hit the dirt was followed by a rain that Mike couldn’t stop. He’d never cried like this before. Each sob was a stab digging into his heart.

Kalen came over and wrapped her arms around him. Mike clutched his daughter and held her tight. Just as he had held her earlier, she was holding him now.

Sam began shoveling the dirt back into the hole. After Mike composed himself, he picked up the other shovel and helped.

They packed the dirt tight. Mary picked some flowers she found along the side of the road and arranged a small bouquet. She laid them down on the fresh mound of dirt.

“Okay,” Mike said. “Let’s gather up any weapons and ammo we can find. Grab anything that’s high quality or in good condition. Sam, do you know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“I had one when I was in the Rangers.”

“Good. If we can’t get the Jeep running, we’ll take the bikes back to the cabin.”

“Nelson?” Sam asked.

Mike turned around and saw a man running down the highway toward them. His arms flailed wildly at his sides, and his legs wobbled.

Nelson collapsed in Mike’s arms when he made it to him and brought the two of them to the ground. Nelson could barely speak he was so out of breath.

“Ken… took… supplies,” Nelson said.

“What?”

“Katie… Anne… Sean, Freddy… they’re in trouble.”

Mike closed his eyes. Jung wasn’t the only one going back on his word.

Night of Day 13 (the Farm)

It took Ken twice as long to bring the supplies back to the farm than when he left. Beth was still awake when he got home. She helped him unload the supplies and bring them in the house.

“What happened to him?” Beth asked.

“He got away,” Mike said.

“You didn’t kill him?”

“No, but I killed the friend they had at the cabin.”

“He’s going to come back, Ken.”

“Only if Mike’s still alive, which I doubt. Besides, even if he does come back, we have his guns, ammo, and supplies.”

“And his family.”

Ken stopped. He set the case of 9mm bullets on the kitchen counter and turned to his wife.

“You didn’t kill them?” Ken asked.

Beth said nothing. When she turned to pick up the rest of the supplies, Ken grabbed her arm.

“Where are they?” Ken asked.

“I put them in the storm cellar.”

“Goddamn it, Beth, we talked about this. You weren’t supposed to keep them alive.”

“And you weren’t supposed to let one of them get away, but it happened.”

There was viciousness in her words as she jerked her arm out of Ken’s grip and stormed outside to the cart. Ken followed her.

“What happened?” Ken asked.

“I know why we’re doing this, Ken. I do,” Beth said, turning around to face him. “You’ve been responsible for keeping this family safe, but… what if we don’t have to hurt people like we have? What if there’s another way?”

“Did they talk to you? Get in your head?”

“No, but we can’t keep going on like this forever, can we?”

“Of course we can! The moment we let guilt slip into our minds is the moment we start digging our own graves.”

Ken grabbed one of the rifles out of the back of his cart along with a box of ammo. He started loading bullets into the rifle’s magazine.

“What are you doing?” Beth asked.

“Your job.”

“Ken, the boys, they’re no older than Joey. You ca—”

“It’s them or us, Beth. There can’t be both.”

“What if they come back? What if they managed to kill the bikers? We’ll need a bargaining chip.”

Ken stopped. On the slim chance that Mike did manage to kill the bikers, he would come looking for his family. Mike didn’t strike him as someone who forgave easily, and with the knowledge of how prepared he was, Ken figured that Mike knew how to handle himself in a fight. He set the rifle back down on the cart and grabbed a box with first aid supplies.

“We give it one day,” Ken said.

* * *

The only light in the storm cellar was a single candle. It was a small, cramped space, not meant for an extended stay, and Anne had no idea how long they’d be there.

The boys finally fell asleep, but she, Fay, and Katie couldn’t. Anne twirled her wedding ring on her hand, watching Freddy’s slow breaths.

“Mike will come back,” Fay said.

“I know,” Anne replied.

That’s what she kept telling herself. He would come back. He wouldn’t let them suffer a fate like this when he had the ability to save them. She knew her husband better than any soul on Earth, and the one thing she learned about him a long time ago was he never quit, no matter what. As long as Mike had air in his lungs, then they had a chance of getting out.

“I’m sure Nelson will be back too,” Anne added.

Katie hadn’t said much after they were put in the cellar. Anne was worried about her. She knew what it was like to have your family back and then immediately be ripped away from them, not knowing if you’d ever see them again.

“Why are they doing this to us?” Katie asked.

“Because they’re assholes,” Fay replied.

“They think this is the best way to survive. They think it’s the only way to survive,” Anne said.

“What is wrong with people?” Katie asked.

“They’re assholes,” Fay answered.

“Fay,” Anne said. “Please.”

Fay crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. Anne sat and watched the flame flicker. The orange and yellow light danced in the darkness, causing shadows to drift over their faces.

“What do you think they’ll do?” Katie asked.

“I don’t know,” Anne said.

Anne had been trying to answer that question since Beth threw all of them in here. She just couldn’t make sense of it. The family didn’t seem desperate or in need of anything. In fact, it was Mike who came to them for help in the first place.

Whatever fate would fall upon them, Anne only hoped Freddy would be okay. Maybe she could bargain with them, strike a deal to keep him alive.

“You know, I never thought I’d see him again,” Katie said.

Katie was looking at her son, Sean.

“A part of me wishes I never did,” Katie added.

“You don’t mean that,” Anne said.

“I know, and I feel ashamed for saying it, but there’s a part of me that does mean it. When I first came back to the house after Sam and I finally made it out of the city I thought, ‘This is it. They’re gone,’ but when I finally saw the letter there was a hope that burned inside of me. The hope that I could see them again, and it raged within me, propelling me to keep moving forward, to keep pushing, no matter how hard it was.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Is it? It did keep me going forward, and, yes, I did find my family again, but how many of us let that hope burn and consume them? How many never find what they’re looking for? It can lead you on an endless quest of pain.”

Maybe Katie was right. Letting a false hope fuel you could be more dangerous than the alternative, but that meant taking away every chance, and Anne couldn’t do that. She had to believe. She had to take every chance she could.

* * *

Billy’s parents didn’t see him watching them argue from the second-floor bedroom window. He knew they were bickering about his mother letting the family live.

When his mother came and woke him up to ask him for his help, he dreaded what she would make him do, but then when she told him her plan of keeping them alive, he felt a burst of pride rush through him.

He might have actually gotten through to her. Maybe she was starting to understand what he was telling her.

They couldn’t keep going on like this. Sooner or later everything they’d done would come back to haunt them, he was sure of that. But he also knew it wasn’t too late for them to change. He could still save his parents from the violent fates they were heading toward.

Billy thought of his brother and how much he idolized their father. If he could change his dad, then his brother would change too. It could be done. He could do it.

Dawn of Day 14 (the Farm)

The sky was lightening. The sun would be coming up soon. Mike wanted to use the darkness to his advantage, so he’d have to move in quickly.

He knew if Ken was going hunting, he’d be up by now, getting things ready, but if he had to haul the supplies back by himself, it would have taken him most of the night, so there was the chance he was still asleep.

Even in the physical state Mike was in, between himself, Sam, and Nelson, he was confident they’d be able to take Ken out. Sam could probably do it singlehandedly, but Mike wasn’t going to let one man be the deciding factor in his family’s fate.

Mike made sure everyone was loaded down with weapons. He gave a pistol to Mary and Kalen but told them they had to stay hidden.

Kalen didn’t argue. Mary simply nodded. After everything that happened, now wasn’t the time to question him.

“Where do you think they’re keeping them?” Nelson asked.

“Wouldn’t they just be in the house?” Sam asked.

“No, I’ve been inside. There isn’t any space for them to hide in the house. They’ll have to be somewhere else on the property. Nelson, did you see anything when you left? Anywhere they would keep them?” Mike asked.

“No, I didn’t see anything.”

“Most farms around here would have a storm cellar, I would think. It’d be out of sight, no windows, one door. It’d be a good place to hide them,” Sam said.

“That’s as good a place to start looking as any,” Mike answered.

Mike followed the forest line that faced the side of the house. He wanted to approach from there because it had the fewest windows and areas to spot them coming.

“Okay, Sam, you look for the storm cellar, if you find it before we do, then take everyone to Kalen and Mary’s location. We’ll catch up with you. Nelson and I will handle the house,” Mike said.

“Roger that,” Sam said.

“Okay,” Nelson replied.

Fatigue was starting to catch up with Mike. He had to force his hands closed over his rifle. The pain in his side still hadn’t let up, and it was getting harder to breath. He closed his eyes and counted to three.

One.

They’re alive. You have to keep moving. They’re going to be okay.

Two.

Push the pain out of your mind. You only have to go a little bit further.

Three.

Done.

Mike led the three of them as they jogged across the field toward the house. They had to weave around some of the cows in the pasture, but it was an easy jog for the most part.

Sam separated himself from the rest of the group and headed around back while Mike and Nelson moved to the front of the house.

As much as Mike wanted to go in and shoot first, he couldn’t risk them hurting his family. He had no idea what he could potentially be walking into, so he kept it quiet.

The wind blew the chimes hanging from the front porch and also rocked a chair that creaked back and forth on the splintered wooden panels.

Each step Mike took was slow, deliberate. He reached his hand for the screen door and gently pulled it open. He placed his hand on the brass knob to the front door and jiggled the handle. It was open.

Mike looked back at Nelson and raised his hand to count down when they’d enter. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Mike pushed the door open, rifle at the ready, and stepped inside. The living room was empty. He listened for any sign of struggle, mumbles for help, but heard nothing.

“I don’t think they’re here,” Mike whispered.

The two of them entered the kitchen, their eyes never leaving the sights of their rifles. A thud from upstairs caused the nose of their guns to point upward.

Mike motioned toward the staircase. The old steps creaked with each step up. His hands were aching badly. He could barely control the tremors. If someone came out, he wasn’t even sure if he could keep the gun steady enough to get a shot off.

At the top of the stairs, Mike could see someone walking back and forth through a crack in the door that was opened slightly. He figured that was where the noise came from, but he wasn’t sure who it was.

Nelson was right behind him, matching him step for step. When Mike pointed toward the door, Nelson nodded in understanding. They both lined up on either side, waiting for the person to come out.

Mike couldn’t hear anyone speaking, so he figured whoever was in there was alone. He peeked through the crack. As soon as he did, the door opened and Mike subdued Billy, dragging him back into the room, keeping his hand over his mouth.

Nelson followed quickly, shutting the three of them in the room. Billy was struggling against Mike but stopped once Nelson put the barrel of his rifle to his face.

“Is my family still alive?” Mike asked.

Billy nodded his head.

“Listen to me, Billy. I know you’re not a bad person. I know you wouldn’t try and hurt anyone. I just want my family. Nothing else. I spared your life once. Now I’m asking you to spare my family’s,” Mike said.

Billy’s eyes darted back and forth between Mike and Nelson. His breathing was quick.

“I’m going to let you go, and when I do you’re going to take me to my family, do you understand?” Mike asked.

Mike slowly moved his hand from Billy’s mouth. Billy didn’t scream.

“Where are they?” Mike asked.

“My mom put them in the storm shelter,” Billy said.

“Show me.”

The three of them snuck back down the stairs quietly. On their way out, Billy opened one of the drawers, grabbing the spare key to the shelter.

Billy led them out the back door into the fields. Mike looked around for Sam, but didn’t see him anywhere.

“Over here,” Billy said.

The storm cellar was underground, covered by overgrown grass and bushes; it was meant to be hidden. Billy unlocked the latch and pulled the door open.

When Mike looked inside, it was completely empty.

“Where are they?” Nelson asked.

Mike grabbed Billy by the throat and slammed him to the ground.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Billy struggled for breath.

“No! They were here! I helped my mother put them here!”

Mike let go. Billy coughed, catching his breath. Mike paced around the shelter, looking in all directions, searching for any sign of his family, but there were none to be seen. Was this how he was going to lose them? Was this how it would end for him?

“Mike,” Nelson said.

Nelson was staring at the ground to the left of the shelter. When Mike went over, he could see several foot prints in the dirt. There were a lot of them.

“They’re still alive,” Mike said.

“Oh God,” Billy said.

“What?” Mike asked.

“My dad. He must have come and got them after we went to bed.”

“Do you know where he’s taking them?” Nelson asked.

“Hunting,” Billy said.

* * *

Kalen leaned up against the trunk of a tree. Her mind wandered. Everything felt like a haze. She could see, but she couldn’t understand. She couldn’t comprehend what happened. It was too much. All of it was too much.

She could still see Jake’s face, his blood pouring from the bullet hole in his head. When she squeezed she felt nothing. She saw him. She was angry. She killed him.

The progression of her thoughts that led her to that point was fast, unmerciful. Whatever satisfaction she thought she’d receive never came. It was nothing more than an illusion.

That emptiness she felt inside her, the fear and void that she replaced with anger, didn’t fade away. It simply grew.

She traded all of her pain for more pain, but this was different than before. There wasn’t a numbness. This had more clarity to it. She had an unexplainable need for more.

“Kalen,” Mary said.

“What?”

Mary moved to her quickly. She pointed behind Kalen, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.

When Kalen turned around she could see her mother and brother walking through the forest. Behind them were Mary’s sisters and Fay.

Mary started to run to them, but Kalen pulled her back down.

“Look,” Kalen said.

Just behind their family members, Ken watched them with his rifle aimed at the back of their heads, marching them forward.

Kalen could feel that burning inside her grow. Her hand went to the pistol her dad left her. When she pulled it out of her pocket, Mary grabbed her wrist.

“No. If you miss, he might hurt them,” Mary said.

“If we hesitate, he’ll kill them before we have a chance to do anything,” Kalen replied.

“We need to go and get your dad.”

Kalen tossed Mary’s arm off her.

“We don’t have time.”

Before Mary could stop her, Kalen was chasing after them. Kalen knew from what her father had said that Ken was a skilled hunter. She felt a slight thrill run through her. The void was filling up again. This is what she needed. She needed to hunt.

* * *

Ken snuck out of bed, and headed downstairs. It was still dark out, so he knew he had time, but needed to act fast.

The promise of waiting to kill those people was a lie. He knew that even if Mike made it back there wouldn’t be any bargaining, not after this.

If the rest of his family was kept alive, then his family would be outnumbered, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before they were killed. He didn’t care what type of good intentions Mike would spit out. In the end it would be either him or Mike, and Ken wasn’t about to lie down.

The looks on their faces when Ken opened that cellar were tired. They hadn’t slept all night, and when they saw him with the rifle, he could tell they knew what was coming.

“Please,” Anne said. “Don’t do this.”

“Everyone out,” Ken replied.

He marched them off to the woods. There was a place he would take them, his hunting spot deep within the forest. It was far enough away from the farm and town that Mike would never find their bodies. It was a spot that you couldn’t get to unless you knew where it was.

Ken found his eyes falling onto Freddy and Sean. His mind went back to the fawn he killed as a boy, and the scolding his father gave him.

It wouldn’t be any different than anyone else he’d killed. All he had to do was pull the trigger.

None of them cried or begged on their march. He was impressed by it actually. He could never understand the sniveling characteristics of a beggar. All anyone had to do in life was figure out what they wanted and then take it. It was that simple. It was exactly what he was doing now.

He had enough bullets for all of them, but for some reason, he felt exposed. It was a feeling he couldn’t shake. Something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Then when the first shot rang out, he realized that it wasn’t the dread of killing these people that he was feeling, but that he was being followed.

* * *

When Mike heard the shots, Billy and Nelson had a hard time keeping up with him. It was a burst of energy that came out of nowhere, a primal surge that coursed through his veins.

The firing was going back and forth. It grew louder the closer he moved. Screams echoed in between the shots. He just couldn’t tell whose screams it was.

Mike finally saw Sam up ahead, firing and ducking behind a tree. Bullets whizzed past. Mike dropped behind a log next to Sam.

“I thought I had a clear shot. I tripped on a goddamn rock,” Sam said, reloading a magazine into his rifle.

“Who were you shooting at?” Mike asked.

“The guy who had the rifle pointing at your family.”

Mike glanced over the log, and he could see people running toward him. Katie had Sean with her, but he couldn’t see Fay, Anne, or Freddy.

“Where’d they go?” Mike asked.

“He ran north,” Sam said.

“He’s heading to his hunting spot,” Billy said. “It’s where he takes his game to gut and clean before he brings it home.”

“Show me,” Mike said.

They were on foot for a few more minutes before they came across Fay, scanning the woods.

“Mike?” Fay asked.

“You all right?”

“I’m sorry, Mike. I’m so sorry.”

“Where’s Ann? Where’s Freddy?”

“Ken grabbed Freddy, and Anne and I started chasing after him, but I got turned around. I don’t know where they went.”

“It’s not much farther,” Billy said. “C’mon.”

As Billy brought them closer to Ken’s spot they came across Anne’s body. She was unconscious on the ground, but still alive.

“Fay, Nelson, you two make sure she’s okay. Billy, Sam, you two with me,” Mike said.

Billy slowed down once they were close. He gathered Mike and Sam around him.

“It’s just beyond those trees. My dad can smell an ambush coming, and right now we’re downwind. He’ll know we’re coming, so we have to be careful,” Billy said.

Mike shoved Billy out of the way, marching forward in stubborn persistence.

“Mike!” Billy said.

“Ken!” Mike shouted. “Let my boy go! If you want to hurt someone, hurt me.”

Ken’s face appeared from behind a tree. He kept his hand over Freddy’s mouth, keeping him quiet. Ken had a gun to his head with his finger on the trigger.

“Funny, ain’t it, Mike? You had my son as a hostage, and now I’ve got yours. I just don’t know if I’m going to be as willing to let him go as you were for mine.”

“Ken, you don’t have to do this. Please, let him go.”

“Tell whoever you’ve got back there with you to come out, or I kill your boy right now.”

Mike didn’t have to ask Sam or Billy to come out; they did it on their own. When Mike saw Ken’s reaction to Billy being there, he was surprised.

There was no look of shock on Ken’s face. He just started to laugh.

“Just couldn’t let it go, could you, boy?” Ken asked.

“Dad, let him go. This isn’t right,” Billy said.

“Right?” Ken shouted. “What’s right isn’t for my own son to betray me! It isn’t right for my own blood to turn against me!”

“I’m not turning against you, Dad, but I can’t let you do this.”

Freddy squirmed against Ken, trying to free himself, but Ken’s grip was too strong. He couldn’t get loose. Then Ken felt the tip of Kalen’s pistol on the back of his head.

“Put the gun down,” Kalen said. “And let my brother go.”

“Kalen?” Mike asked.

Ken slowly raised his hands in the air, letting Freddy go and setting the pistol on the ground. Kalen walked around to face him, the gun aimed at his face. Freddy ran to his father, and Mike scooped him up.

“Well done, girl,” Ken said.

“Kalen, it’s okay. It’s over,” Mike said.

Kalen only took her eyes off Ken for a second, but it was enough for him to get the drop on her. He knocked the gun from her hands and went for his pistol on the ground.

The moment Ken had his hand on the gun and jumped up to aim at Kalen a shot rang out and Ken flew backward, a bullet tearing through his chest.

The smoke from Billy’s rifle rose into the morning air. As quickly as he fired the shot he ran to his father.

“Dad!”

Ken coughed up blood. He grabbed Billy’s collar and pulled him toward him.

“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Billy said, tears streaming down his face. “Somebody help him!”

Sam rushed over, putting pressure on the wound, but there was too much blood.

Ken’s fingers slowly lost their grip on Billy’s shirt, and his hand went limp. Sam checked his pulse, listened for his breathing, but there was nothing. Ken was gone.

Billy screamed. He shook his father, but nothing brought back the life in Ken’s eyes. Billy just sat there, hunched over his dad, crying.

Mike wasn’t sure what would happen next. Billy was emotional. He could turn on the rest of the group. He walked up and picked up the rifle, so Billy couldn’t do anything rash.

“Billy, he’s gone,” Mike said.

Mike placed his hand on the boy’s back, and Billy shoved him off him. He kept shoving Mike’s chest, pushing him back.

“You made me do this! This is your fault!” Billy said.

“Billy, I know what you’re going through. I do.”

“No, you don’t!”

The adrenaline finally left him, and Billy fell to the ground. Mike and Sam picked him up and carried him back to the farm.

Day 16 (the Cabin)

The reports coming in from Cincinnati had been constant for the past forty-eight hours. It was something Mike couldn’t ignore anymore.

He decided to give himself and the rest of his family a few more days before they would head out. He and Kalen had been sleeping during most of the days and nights. He’d never been so exhausted in his life. The days were more for him than anyone else.

The breathing was getting a little easier, but he still couldn’t move around a lot. His body felt like concrete, heavy and rigid. He was resting in his room when Anne came and knocked on the door.

“Honey, Fay’s here,” Anne said.

“Send her in.”

Fay had her daily basket of provisions that she came in from town to get.

“I suppose you still haven’t changed your mind?” Fay asked.

“No.”

“There has to be a way to fix this, Mike.”

“There isn’t.”

“If you could just talk to him. Hear him out.”

“It’s good to see you, Fay.”

Mike didn’t have anything else to add on the subject. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

He knew what she wanted. She wanted him to let Jung back in the cabin, into their circle. But it was something he just couldn’t do. Jung crossed a line that he never should have tried. He put Mike’s family in danger, and it almost got them killed. It wasn’t something that he took lightly.

Fay had chosen to stay with Jung and his kids at the motel in town. He knew she felt that he was being too hard on him, but Mike didn’t care. He’d given up enough already. He didn’t have any more charity to give.

* * *

The cabin was gathered around the dinner table. It was the first time Mike and Kalen decided to join everyone and eat in the kitchen.

There was a sense of relief when everyone saw Mike and Kalen walk in. For them it was a sign of things getting back to normal. For Mike and Kalen, it was them ready to face the people around them.

There wasn’t much talk. A few comments here and there, but Mike was thankful he didn’t have to say anything.

He knew everyone was already aware of the trip to Cincinnati. There wasn’t much objection when it was brought up. Everyone seemed to be glad to go. It gave everyone a sense of hope that once they made it to Cincinnati they’d be safe and that soon they’d be able to go home.

Mike wasn’t sure what home meant to him anymore. He wanted to believe that it was still a place where his family was, and that was true, but if his family wasn’t safe, then how could they enjoy their time together? How was someone supposed to grow and love and feel joy when the constant threat of violence was hanging over their heads?

He couldn’t answer that question now. All he was focusing on were the faces around the table. These were the people he could trust. This was his family.

Six Months after Blackout

Ben Sullivan took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He’d been staring at data and spreadsheets for the past three hours. His eyes were dry and bloodshot. He needed to take a break.

He walked over to the snack machine and swiped his card. He pressed A7, and a Snickers dropped to the slot at the bottom.

His partner, Mitch, walked in with another file just as Ben was about to take a bite.

“C’mon, Mitch. I need a break,” Ben said.

“Trust me, you’ll want to take a look at this one. It’s Cincinnati.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. He stuffed the rest of the candy bar in his mouth and snatched the file from Mitch’s hands.

He flipped through the manila folder, studying the notes, pictures, and interviews that had already taken place.

“When did he get here?” Ben asked, not looking up from the file.

“About an hour ago. We have him in a holding cell. Should I bring him in?”

“I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”

Ben couldn’t believe it. Since the power came back on he must have questioned more than one hundred people who were indicted with crimes during the power outage.

He was put in charge with investigating all major crimes in the northeast that were committed during the time the EMP blast took out power for the entire country.

Most of the stuff he ran across were murder charges, but this guy, he was a big fish. The allegations coming out of Cincinnati were huge. People were still scrambling to figure out what happened, and if this guy was everything the file was telling him, then Ben could have just found the biggest break of his career.

Ben took a seat behind the two-way glass as Mitch brought in the suspect. His face was bearded, and he looked nothing like the picture in his file.

The violence on this guy’s record was incredible. Ben was surprised they didn’t bring him in with a straight jacket on.

Once the prisoner was secure with his hands and feet shackled, Ben walked in and sat down across from him. He slapped the file on the clean steel table between them, folded his hands together, and leaned forward.

“That file doesn’t paint a very flattering picture,” Ben said.

The prisoner said nothing.

“We’re going to be spending quite a lot of time together, and I can tell you that it will make both our lives a lot easier if you cooperate,” Ben said.

The prisoner wouldn’t look at Ben. He kept his face down, staring at his hands. That’s when Ben noticed the rigidness of the man’s fingers. They were swollen and crooked.

“If you give me something now I might be able to do something about your hands. Maybe a little extra pain reliever? Hmm? How does that sound?” Ben asked.

“Pain?”

“Pain reliever. For your hands. It loos like pretty bad arthritis.”

The prisoner looked up, his eyes shielded from the ragged strands of hair. He leaned forward.

“There is nothing on this planet that can numb me after the things I’ve done,” the prisoner said.

Ben leaned back into his chair. He pulled the Snickers bar from his pocket and took a bite.

“Well,” Ben said, trying to talk and chew at the same time. “It could be a long night for the both of us, Mike.”

Copyright

Copyright 2014

All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.

Content

James Hunt
BROKEN TIES
A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World

Day 1 (First Day of Blackout)

Day 13 (The Cabin)

Day 13 (Biker Gang)

Day 13 (the Cabin)

Day 13 (Biker Gang)

Night of Day 13 (the Cabin)

Night of Day 13 (Carrollton)

Night of Day 13 (the Cabin)

Day 13 (the Farm)

Night of Day 13 (the Town)

Night of Day 13 (the Cabin)

Night of Day 13 (the Town)

Night of Day 13 (the Farm)

Dawn of Day 14 (the Farm)

Day 16 (the Cabin)

Six Months after Blackout

Copyright