The Storm (32 page)

              Five more minutes passed before Zeke stealthily crawled out of the grass and onto the path. He was still on all fours and made his way the thirty feet to my position. He gestured me to come down to his level when he was beneath me and I duly squatted low while staying on two feet. “Zeke, what did you see?”

              His voice was a bit excited, like he had either just been scared out of his mind or was jubilant at having come back alive. I wasn’t sure which one it was. “Damn . . . We can’t go that way. They have like ten guys up there, at least that I could see. Each one of them was armed and was staring down their guns at the woods. If we stepped out there, we would have taken a big one up the rear.”

              Rick and Roald probably just rolled their eyes, but it was too dark to see and my focus was squarely on Zeke. “What else, Zeke?”

              “There’s nothing else to say, man. We aren’t taking crap from that neighborhood tonight. We only have an hour of darkness left, and they are all up there looking for a fight. It’s like they knew we were coming or something.”

              That hit me like a thunderbolt. Slav, that bastard, had basically ordered us down this path. He said he would distract them but hadn’t done anything. All along I knew something was wrong, but this exceeded even my deepest worries. What game was Slav playing? He wanted us dead, but why? We needed every set of hands and guns in the neighborhood now, unless he was just worried about mouths to feed. I didn’t know, but I had to find out. It was time to get away from Castlewood Ridge. They could keep whatever food supplies they had.

              I motioned everyone to come close for a huddle. After we were all in a tight circle, I let it out. “I think we were supposed to walk into an ambush and die tonight. Slav wanted us to come this way, and they have a bunch of armed guys up there who were going to greet us. We need to get the hell out of here, guys. Let’s roll!”

              Quickly we started moving back away from Castlewood Ridge. Too quickly. After about twenty feet of what should have been an exodus unnoticed, Roald caught his arm on a vine filled with prickly spikes. “Argh!” came the knee jerk reaction from him as the vine dug into his flesh and caused several small bite marks. Normally it wouldn’t be much of a wound, and some aloe with a bandage would have it healed over a weekend while the pain would fade within a few minutes. Tonight, however, his quick shout of pain carried through the dead air and found receptive ears up the hill.

              “Give them hell!” thundered from a deep voice at the top of the field near the middle house, and instantly those armed men were doing just as commanded.

             
BOOM, CRACK, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, RATATATATAT
.

              Gunfire exploded everywhere at once. All the countless hours of tension built up by waiting for something to happen caused the men at the top of the hill to unleash their damned up energies all at once. Bullets were spraying everywhere, most of it to our left and right.

              “Move! Move! Move!” I had shouted it and didn’t care if I was heard. They couldn’t see us but knew we were here. Bullets flew both near us and far at random intervals. The men up the hill were probably just sporadically firing all over the place at the woods and hoping to hit one of us. I dropped the binoculars and grabbed my rifle with both hands and started running as fast as I could. Everyone but Zeke was ahead of me. Branches cracked as we stormed through them. The cleared and often used path through the woods at least made a quick escape.

             
WHIZZZ

             
A bullet flew past my head and missed by inches. There was more moving than just us. Even the squirrels were fleeing the gunfire and running for their lives. The adrenaline was pumping now. My heart could have exploded, but fast and onwards I ran. I couldn’t even see the trees to either side, only the silhouette of the person in front of me as we sprinted forth like a car tailgating another at night with their lights turned off. As long he didn’t crash, I wouldn’t.

              The blasting sounds grew more distant as we continued on and fewer and fewer bullets were landing anywhere near us. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Zeke continuing to trail me. Up ahead, everyone was still moving fast. Was it possible that none of us had been shot? I hoped so. A couple of minutes later and we exited the trees back into the relative sanctuary of our neighborhood. The gunfire had now died down and they were probably trying to figure out if they had killed any of us. We were all here, although we each collapsed on the ground and tried to catch our breath.

              “Everyone okay?” Nana asked first.

              “Yup.”

              “Yes.”

              “Here.”

              “Still kicking,” I said lastly. I finally understood the old phrase “dodged the bullet.” We had, and I was grateful. My elation didn’t last long though. Slav was out there and had tried to kill us off. Samantha and everyone else needed to know about this. I was ready to kill Slav, but expelling him might achieve the same result in a more humane way. As I dwelled on that idea, it occurred to me that Slav had been in communication with the other neighborhood and tipped them off that we were coming. He would just go there and lead them against us if we kicked him out. He needed to die, but he would get a chance to plead his case in front of the community. We weren’t a lynch mob yet, but his fate was justly settled in my mind.

              “What happened?” asked Rick as he lay on his back in the grass.

              “Slav is what happened,” answered Nana coldly.

              “Yeah, he set us up big time. I am pretty sure he wanted us killed there. We were supposed to walk up that hill and get shot.”
No sense in sugarcoating it,
I thought.
Just the facts, Josh
. “Zeke, tell them what you saw.”

              “That hill was stacked, man. It was like . . . Bunker Hill. We would have just been walking up there casually and mowed down. They had, like, a dozen guys up there armed and waiting for us.”

              “Shit,” uttered Nana.

              I glanced over at Roald, “You okay? You let out a shout back there.”

              “Yeah, I’m fine. Just those damn prickly things caught me off guard, and it hurt like a dozen bee stings at once, but I will be fine.”

              If a moment had passed that I felt better, it was fleeting and gone like a bubble in the air that quickly blows up and disappears for all time.

             
BOOM . . . BOOM, BOOM . . . BOOM BOOM!

             
Five gunshots had echoed from a distance throughout the morning air. It was still dark, and the sun had some time yet to rise, but the direction of the shots rattled me. They weren’t coming from the woods and Castlewood Ridge . . . they were from our neighborhood and in the direction of my house. I didn’t even think twice. I was charging toward my house like a Bull Moose at full speed.

*********************************

              Toward my house I sprinted with rifle in hand. Stacy was there with the kids, and gunshots had just rung outward from that direction. Slav was on the prowl and had just tried to get me killed. There was no telling what he was capable of, and my only priority was protecting my family. The way forward was dark, but I knew it by heart after a thousand walks with Murphy. Empty and now worthless cars were parked in front of houses as I zipped by them and continued down the street. The only sounds present were my labored breath and the thumps of my boots as I picked up the pace.

              Finally I passed a house and rounded the corner to bring myself to my cul-de-sac. Stopping for a moment to get the lay of the land, I looked around, and all appeared quiet until I focused on my house. An eerie glow could be seen coming out from the sides of the shades and also through the open front door. Several candles were evidently lit and brightening up the inside. I didn’t like that a bit. Stacy wouldn’t have been up or have candles lit. I pulled the rifle up to my shoulder and walked forward slowly and deliberately. Each step forward was matched by a full sweep on the 180 degrees in front of me. I was determined not to get caught off guard again.

              Just then I saw a figure walk out my front door and throw a box into the front yard. He then puffed a cigarette that had been in his mouth and flicked it up into the air before turning and going back inside. Whoever it was, his eyes had gotten used to the candlelight inside, and he didn’t see me walking forward in the middle of the dark street. Forward I continued and wondered why I didn’t hear anything from Stacy, unless they had her and the kids tied up. We were probably being robbed, and my anger turned into a blood rage. How dare they try to deprive us of what we need to survive? The irony of myself having just set out to do the same fell on death ears.

              As I drew closer, it appeared the front door was kicked in. It hung at an angle with the bottom and top hinges broken so that it lay inverted like a ramp into the house but with enough room to the side that it could be side stepped. My heart beat faster and harder that I thought it might explode out of my chest. All my worst fears realized, our house had been violated. A decent-sized pile of food lay in the middle of the front yard next to a wheel barrow. Whoever was picking us clean intended to shuffle it off after they finished.

              Every instinct inside me said charge into the house and kill whoever is in there, but the last few days had taught me that tactical restraint and ambush are much more effective. I could run in but would be engaged in an equal gunfight and might not make it out. Prudence took hold of me as I fought every inch of emotion to charge, and I quietly squatted next to my now defunct SUV parked in front of the house. I would wait until the invader came outside again and then exact my revenge. A faint hint of cigarette smoke filled the air.

              A couple of minutes passed, and they were the longest wait of my life. What was happening to my kids or Stacy? What was the gunfire I heard earlier? Why were no other neighbors coming out to help? Damn them! Everyone thought their home was the epitome of safety until the door gets kicked in. For the first time in a long time, I said a small prayer, but my eyes never left searching for the invader. I realized I hadn’t even brought help from my friends and took off quickly without saying a word. Having one of them here would give me a confidence boost, but I couldn’t help that now. They may still come but they also might miss the party.

              Just as doubt began to spread like cancer through my soul, the man appeared again in the doorway, carrying one of my bags of rice. It was Slav. Gingerly he walked over to the wheelbarrow and placed the large bag of rice into it. It was time to make my move. “You son of a bitch!” I screamed with rage as my blood was at full boil again. I stood up fully and walked toward him with my gun pointed squarely at his chest. His face was just now coming into focus where I could see clearly in the dark.

              He jumped for a moment in surprise but then put up both hands to gesture his surrender. “Well . . . Josh,” he said in that accent that most would confuse for Russian but wasn’t.

              I wanted to shoot him so badly I could barely restrain my finger from twitching and pulling the trigger, but I had to know what was happening. “You alone?”

              “Just me,” came the terse reply.

              “Why are you trying to steal from me, and why did you try to get me killed earlier?” My eyes were probably as open as an owl’s now, and he looked straight at them.

              “Nothing personal, Josh. Just survival. You are pretty tough. Maybe we should work together and set out on the road as a team.” His face was devoid of emotion as he spoke.

              “Like hell I would do anything with you. What did you do with my kids and wife?”

              “You go inside. You see.” It was cryptic but didn’t bode well. His hands had been slowly inching down from their heights and suddenly he squatted and reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol. As his arm swung around his body to aim it at me, I finally unleashed my pent up fury.

             
BOOM
!

              The shot ripped through his chest and sent him railing backwards into the dirt. His finger managed to squeeze the trigger of his pistol and a shot rang out harmlessly into the night air as his body swung backward before landing hard. Immediately and without thought, I cocked my handle and reloaded in one smooth motion. Quickly I shuffled over to him with the barrel still aimed at him as he began coughing up blood. I noticed for the first time that his shirt was already soaked with blood down around his right hip from an earlier bullet wound. His chest lay open, pumping blood as he tried to speak, but only blood with gibberish came up.

              It was then I stood over him looking down into those cold eyes and saw he was trying to raise his pistol again.
BOOM!
His head exploded with fragments and blood coming up and hitting me in the face. His hand holding the gun fell back lifelessly to the ground. Slav was no more.

              My breathing was rapid, and I had gotten so consumed by the rage that I didn’t notice the rest of my group from earlier running down and shouting to me in the street. My mind was like a laser at this point, able to focus on only one thing at a time. As my attention drifted from Slav’s dead body, it honed in again on my family, and I leaped into the house. The broken front door was a small obstacle but easily jumped over, and I took a moment to let my eyes adjust to the light from the candles. The smell of sea air permeated the house. Slav had lit all our custom beach-scented candles.