Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (35 page)

“Good. I’ll see you in a minute,” said Pete, and he opened the door.

He was about to step out when Paul grabbed his shoulder and said, “Pete, thanks for doing this.” Pete nodded and walked out to meet the messenger.

The man waited for Pete to stop and said, “The boss will talk to you, but first you have to raise up your shirt.” Pete raised up the front of his shirt. Only partially satisfied, and rightfully so, the biker told Pete to turn around. Pete complied and didn’t attempt to conceal the pistol. “You’re not playing fair,” quipped the man. “Are you trying to take advantage of us?” Pete snorted and didn’t answer. “Drop your gun at the front door and then the chief will talk with you.”

Pete walked to the front door and handed his pistol to Paul who was standing ready inside the door. Before he walked away, Pete said, “Careful not to point your gun out the door, but be ready to cover my entrance.” Paul nodded and Pete turned back down the walkway. The biker gang leader was already making his way up the walkway. Pete was the first to speak and said, “I was wondering if you were brave enough to meet with me.”

The big man sneered and said, “I can cut you down to size with a simple hand gesture.”

“Perhaps,” said Pete, “but you’d die in the process. And judging by your cautious behavior, I’d say you want to live a while longer.”

“You think I’m afraid of you, Soldier boy? I can take you and this house in minutes,” replied Blackbeard.

“You see that window directly above me?” said Pete without turning around. The large biker looked briefly up at the alcove defensive position and then quickly back to Pete. “There are two marksmen in that window,” continued Pete. “They’re protected by three layers of sandbags, which makes that a fortified fighting position. Your men, on the other hand, are in the open. Half of them would be cut down before they even reached cover. We’re prepared for you, big guy. In fact, we’ve been prepared for you since you rode in here and torched Paul’s house,” said Pete.

The big man nodded and said, “What makes you think we won’t do the same with this house? We’ll come back and burn your house down while you’re sleeping.”

“Oh, I think we’ll have this resolved before nightfall,” said Pete. “Besides, I’ve given your plan some thought. At first, you taking John hostage confused me a little. I mean, why take him hostage? Why not just kill him?” asked Pete rhetorically. He looked hard at the big man and continued, “So I’m thinking it’s not Paul you really want, but the house and all our food. You won’t burn this house down,” said Pete.

Blackbeard looked blankly at Pete and said, “I want Paul, and if he doesn’t come out I will burn your house down around you.”

“Oh. So you’ll huff, and you’ll puff, and you’ll blow our house down,” said Pete.

“If you’re trying to piss me off it won’t work. I’ve got your friend,” said the biker. “I’ll set him up in front of the house and remove his head with my machete. So either you cooperate, or we do this the hard way.”

Pete saw the machete handle sticking up from behind the man’s left shoulder. Pete knew the food remained his best bargaining chip, and he would continue to use it as leverage until it was no longer
possible. As far as Pete was concerned, Paul wasn’t even on the negotiating table, at least not openly. But that thought gave Pete an idea, but for it to work he would have to let the big man think it was his own.

“Well,” said Pete, “if you burn the house down you’ll lose all the food. You would destroy it all just to settle a score over some stupid asshole who picked a fight with the wrong house?” asked Pete. The man scowled and Pete added, in case he missed the point, “I’m talking about Darrel, though the same argument applies to this house,” finished Pete.

“There’s other food around,” growled the biker. “You give me Paul and then we’ll take about food,” he added with a low snarl.

Pete respected the biker’s shrewdness, but he still believed he could goad him into action by attacking his macho standing as the gang’s leader, and seeing his machete gave him an idea. He only hoped the man’s ego was as big as he was. “OK. I can see you’re smarter than you look, so how about we settle this like men? You and me . . . with our hands or a weapon of your choice?” yelled Pete, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Winner takes all!” Pete finished with a nod to John’s house behind him. He had no intention of giving up John’s house, but if there was a way to defuse the entire mess, Pete believed this was the way.

The large man boomed with laughter, but his eyes told another story, of controlled anger. The other bikers joined in, and when the big man was satisfied with the duration and intensity of the supporting laughter, he held up his hand for silence. Blackbeard boomed his reply, “I accept your challenge Soldier boy, but on one condition. The fight is between me and Paul. He killed my officer, so he’s the one who has to face me.”

Pete was hoping the big man would say that. If what John said was true about Paul’s sword fighting experience and capability, then he should be capable of handling the gang leader. Pete looked at Blackbeard with concern and fear he didn’t feel, and said, “That’s
Paul’s decision, not mine. I’ll go ask him if he accepts your challenge,” he added, as he backed up to the front door.

As soon as Pete stepped through the front door, Paul said, “I’ll face him.”

“Are you sure? He’s a big dude,” said Pete.

“I can handle him,” said Paul. “And if he’s really Darrel’s leader, then I want a piece of him.”

“OK, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll stay inside during the fight to cover you from upstairs. Either way he’s a dead man, but when you take him out I want you to drop to the ground and stay as low as possible. We’ll be picking off the other bikers as they prepare to fire, and I don’t want you getting hit by any flying lead,” said Pete.

Marissa heard the exchange and emerged from the kitchen. She grabbed Paul by the hand and led him to the kitchen. Pete took the time to brief the boys on how to respond when he started firing, but after several minutes he worried that Paul was having a change of heart, believing perhaps that Marissa didn’t agree with him risking his life. So when Pete heard the sound of pots and pans banging around, he entered the kitchen to find Paul digging through a lids drawer. Marissa was standing over him, dabbing her eyes with a dishtowel.

Bonnie turned to look at Pete and said, “What are you up to, Pete? This is crazy!”

“That may be so, but I think Paul can close the deal,” said Pete.

“And what deal is that?” asked Bonnie.

“Our lives, this house, the food we need to survive, and John,” said Pete.

“I hope you’re right,” said Bonnie, and turned to resume her watch out the back.

Pete looked at Marissa and saw approval in her eyes. There was something special about her, and he was very interested to know what it was; she had steel for a spine, but somehow managed to remain tender and loving. He tilted his head as he searched for
something reassuring to say, but then Paul stood up holding a large, flat, Calphalon pot lid. He looked at Pete and said, “I’ll use this as my buckler.”

“Buckler?” said Pete.

Paul shook his head and said, “And you call yourself a Soldier. Yes, a buckler, it’s a small, hand-held shield designed primarily to deflect or trap the sword blows of an opponent.”

Pete snorted and said, “I can see you know what you’re doing. I’m also glad Blackbeard fell into our trap. Now let’s go finish this and save John.”

Paul stepped onto the front porch, and Pete closed and locked the door behind him. No one was in position to manage the door, so Paul was essentially on his own when he walked outside. Given Paul’s civilian background, it was the bravest thing Pete had ever seen a civilian do. It was difficult enough to walk out and face the entire motorcycle gang in parlay, but going out to face their huge leader in mortal combat was something else entirely. Pete grabbed his rifle, and after giving Adam special amended instructions, he ran upstairs and prepared to cover Paul from a window.

The biker leader actually looked surprise to see Paul walking toward him down the steps. He clearly didn’t think Paul would accept his challenge. And when Paul reached the middle of the walkway he stopped and said, in a loud and strangely regal voice, “I, Paul Hernandez, challenge one, Blackbeard, leader of the Fort Worth chapter of Desperados, to single armed combat, be it unto death. Do you accept my challenge?”

Jeers and catcalls erupted from the bikers, along with a hearty amount of laughter and joking around. The biker’s seemed strangely entertained by the pot lid Paul held in his left hand, and they offered many interesting and colorful comments about how he could use it. Blackbeard quieted the gang and turned to face Paul. In his own loud voice he said, “I accept your challenge to die, you little twit. I’ll enjoy chopping you up in front of your family.”

“That is boastful talk indeed, Lord Desperado, for you have yet to face me in mortal combat. Me thinks your size doth lend itself to your great boasting,” said Paul.

“Are you serious? Quit talking like a fag or I’ll make you suffer before I kill you,” replied Blackbeard, obviously angry at Paul’s attempt to mock him. And to Paul’s satisfaction, the big man began to approach with confidence.

“Me thinks the only fag here is you, my lord,” said Paul.

In an effort to loosen up, or perhaps intimidate Paul, the biker gang leader drew his machete and swung it around in large swooping arcs. The thin blade whistled through the air as he approached Paul, but then he stopped when Paul drew his own sword. Paul knew his sword looked like a machete by the handle, but once clear of its sheath it obviously wasn’t. It was the heavy functional sword John had given him earlier, a warrior’s blade; not some flimsy piece of stamped metal ground to an edge.

The confidence on the biker’s face flickered, but it quickly returned when his macho ego reasserted itself. Paul was pleased the biker didn’t back down. He had been practicing with the sword, and was comfortable with it in his hand. He also thirsted for revenge, ready to fight and avenge his honor, and that of his wife and children. He clanged the flat side of the sword against his buckler in a salute and assumed a ready position.

The big man charged forward with a powerful overhead swing that was meant to bury the machete in the top of Paul’s head. Paul easily deflected the blow with the buckler and removed the big man’s right arm just above the elbow. The arm fell to the ground with the machete still gripped in its hand. Paul stepped aside and let the big man go to his knees, and to avoid the spray of blood pumping from the gang leaders severed arm.

Blackbeard screamed in pain and anger, and reached up to cover his stump of an arm with his left hand. Paul stood clear of the man’s reach and yelled, in a calm and controlled voice, “Do you yield?” When
Blackbeard didn’t answer, Paul repeated his question, “Do you agree to the terms set by Pete . . . that the winner takes all?”

“Go to hell,” hissed the big man, and he tried to stand while maintaining direct pressure on his bleeding stump.

Paul nodded and said, “Very well then. I offer no mercy!” and with that he swung the sword in a wide arc and removed Blackbeard’s head with a single blow of the heavy blade. Blood sprayed up and coated Paul’s face, and with his bloodlust up, he turned and charged toward the dumbstruck bikers. A few recovered quickly, and Pete quickly neutralized them. Any gang member that even motioned to shot at Paul was cut down by one of Pete’s quick and well-aimed shots.

Pete heard a shot from the alcove and watched a biker fall, but he was too busy assessing his own targets to consider the implications. He cursed Paul’s name and kept shooting until all the remaining bikers threw down their weapons and held up their hands. One gang member was seen running down the street, and when Paul started taking off after him, a single rifle shot hit the ground at his feet. He stopped and looked down to see that a bullet had cut through the sole of his shoe. His foot was jarred painfully by the shot, but he was uninjured, and was about to kneel down and examine his foot more closely when Pete yelled from an upstairs window, “Paul! Go in and get your shotgun and I’ll cover the gang until you return.”

Paul looked up and waved a salute to Pete. He saw the three boys staring down at him from the alcove bunker, their eyes wide, and mouth’s hanging open. He ignored them and returned to the house just as Marcus unlocked the door to let him in. Without a word, Marcus handed his dad the shotgun and then quickly climbed back up to the alcove to watch the unfolding scene. When Paul had the prisoners covered, Pete came out and joined him in the front yard. He slapped him on the back and said, “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. You made that look easy. Good work, Paul!”

“You shot my shoe,” said Paul.

“Yeah, well, I was aiming for your foot,” said Pete.

“You were?”

“No! Of course not. I just wanted to get your attention. It was probably a ricochet that scratched your shoe,” said Pete.

“Scratch?” replied Paul. “There’s a hole clean through the bottom of my shoe.”

“I’ll get you a new pair,” said Pete with a grin. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.” He called up to the boys and told them to come down. They stared nervously at the severed head of the gang leader as they passed it on the lawn. They were speechless, and very easy to direct. Pete actually preferred that response to panic or a thousand questions. Of the sixteen bikers that came, half were dead. Not counting the man who escaped down the street that left them with seven prisoners. Pete moved the prisoners onto the lawn and ordered them to kneel and cross their legs while interlacing their fingers at the tops of their heads. Under Pete’s supervision, the boys searched the bikers for weapons and piled everything on the front patio.

What do you want to do with the dead?” asked Paul.

Pete looked at Paul, at the subdued bikers, and then back at Paul, “You and Adam guard the bikers and have them move the bodies to the adjacent lot. I’ll get some shovels and join you in a minute.” Paul nodded and they took control of the bikers and put them to work. As Pete walked away he yelled, “And Paul, don’t hesitate to shoot anyone who doesn’t cooperate.”