Fade to Grey (Book 1): Fade to Grey (56 page)

I heard the sound of a shotgun slide being racked, followed
by a deep voice. “Didn’t you hear the man?  He said Tommy’s inside. So you
better start walking forward . . . right now!”

“Please don’t shoot me . . . don’t hurt me . . . please . . .
just let me go home,” Emily cried as she took a few tentative steps forward.

It was now or never. I thought back to the dozens of three
gun competitions I’d shot in.
Acquire. Fire. Move.
That was the process.
Deep breath. Another. Now!

I spun to the left and brought up the rifle, clicking the
weapon light on at the last possible moment. Standing on the porch with a
shotgun pointing towards Emily was the tall man with a black sweatshirt. His
position put him as a human shield for the cowboy. My front sight locked onto
his temple, and I fired.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK
. His knees buckled and he collapsed
as Cowboy dove for the door.

BAP-BAP-BAP-BAP-BAP
. I fired off five more quick shots, hitting him several
times but not stopping him. Thumbing the light off, I dove onto the porch and
rolled towards the door as the window closest to me exploded. Using the
momentum from my last roll to stand up, I charged at the door before they could
lock it again. As soon as my shoulder smashed into the heavy door, there was a
deafening
KA-BOOM
and splinters from the door frame peppered my neck. But
I was through. I dove left towards the kitchen, catching a flash of movement as
I did. Cowboy was holding his gut and stumbling through the doorway into the
back bedroom. Three more explosions blasted through the cabin as Skull and Crossbones
leaned out from behind the divider wall near the closet. I could see Michelle
struggling with her bonds as I raised the rifle above my head and fired a half
dozen wildly aimed shots towards the closet. Several more gunshots detonated,
and the blast as they broke the sound barrier whizzing past my head rang in my
ears. Shifting the rifle to my left hand only, I drew out my knife and charged
towards Michelle, firing at the closet as I ran.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK
and then I was there, lunging upwards at the rope that was tying her handcuffs
to the beam. In a single fluid motion I struck the rope with the keen edge of
my knife, still firing at the closet with my left arm.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK
.
The knife went through the rope like it was made of smoke and Michelle dropped
to the ground. I dove behind an old leather chair and reached into my pocket
for my other magazine as Michelle rolled toward the corner. Dropping out the
partial magazine in the rifle, I fumbled my first attempt to slam the next one
home. As I re-tilted it and jammed it back into the magwell, I heard another
female voice screaming from the bedroom. From the corner of my eye I saw
Michelle struggling to reach something at the far side of the room, but two
more gunshots shattered the momentary silence and made me smack the floor. I
knew I couldn’t stay here, so I hit the quick release button on the weapon
light, raised both of my knees to my chest and kicked out at the leather chair.
It shot across the room and crashed into a support post near the kitchen entry.
It also drew another round of gunfire, so I turned the light on and pitched it
like a hand grenade toward the closet, rotating up to one knee and starting to
fire as I stood.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK
. By the fourth shot I was
almost fully up, and I saw Skull and Crossbones lurch to his feet in front of
me. The image of his hand on Michelle still burned in my mind as I pulled the
trigger, stitching him from legs to face.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK—CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK
.
He crashed to the ground and dropped his empty pistol, curling into a fetal
position and moaning. Another scream from the back bedroom warned me that I
wasn’t done yet, and the thundering blast of a twelve gauge shredded a tanned
bobcat pelt on the wall next to me. I dove back into the living room just in
time to see Emily poke her head around the cabin door.

“EMILY, RUN!” I screamed as another shotgun blast slammed
into the wall next to her. Michelle was still fumbling with something in the
corner as I looked for some cover. There wasn’t any. Nothing that would stop a
bullet that is. Two more blasts tore into the door frame, and then a voice
shouted “I’m coming out . . . Put all of your guns down . . . if somebody so
much as breathes, I’m going to blow a hole in the chick-ee here. DO YOU HEAR
ME?”

I didn’t answer.

A whimper of pain preceded boot steps as the man in the
cowboy hat shuffled down the hallway and into my view. His thickly muscled arm
was clenched around the neck of a naked, bruised and battered, pale skinned girl.
She had short brown hair with several chunks of blue beads woven into a rat
tail, and her ghostly complexion clashed with her crimson flushed face as he
choked her. She was bleeding from several wounds that I could see, and her
hands were feebly hitting at the bulky arm that was strangling her.

As soon as he saw me he jerked the girl closer to him,
pulling them both back the hallway and out of my sight. “You want to die today
. . . that’s fine by me.” Cowboy’s raspy voice echoed down the hall. “But I can
promise you that the first one racing to hell will be this little girl here.”
Another shriek from the hallway ended in a wet thump followed by some low
cursing. “I’m coming back out now, and I’m taking little miss punk rocker with
me. Once I’m at my truck you can have her back, but if any of you lift a gun at
me, we’re going to have us a meat party, starting with this sweet young thing
as an appetizer. YOU HEAR ME?”

“I hear you,” I said, furiously thinking of options. None
came to mind other than the ironclad belief that there was no way I was going
to let him take her, whoever she was.

Boot steps approached, and Cowboy came into view still
gripping his hostage tightly around the throat. He was sidestepping to his
right, facing me while edging closer to the door. A large stainless steel
revolver was resting on top of his forearm with the barrel jammed in the hollow
of the girl’s neck. A fresh trickle of blood from her forehead was running down
her face and dripping in the crook of his arm. I lowered my rifle slightly, but
kept my finger on the trigger—waiting for a moment’s distraction. A groan from
behind the cowboy turned into a coughing plea for help.

“ . . . Pinto . . . help me man . . . get me outta here.”
cough
. . . cough . . .
“Asshole shot me up all over. C’mon man, help me . . . to
. . .
cough . . .
the . . . truck.”
Cough . . . cough . . .

 I missed my opportunity when the cowboy shifted his eyes
momentarily toward the collapsed figure of Skull and Crossbones. Turning his
eyes back on me quickly he said, “Looks like you done a number on old Kurt
there. That’s too bad, I kind of liked him.” He sidestepped another three feet
towards the door, watching me like a hawk as he did. His position was now twenty-four
inches from the line I had drawn in my mind as the point of no return. With the
speed of a cracking whip, he shifted his grip from around her throat to her rat
tail, jerking her upwards slightly as she gasped for air. He also turned a
fraction to keep himself squared towards me. Another sidestep put him a foot
from the ‘last chance’ line. I saw the muscular cords in his forearm flex with effort
as he hoisted the girl upward once again. As he did, the partially dangling
girl screamed a guttural cry as she twisted in his grip and launched her nails
at his face. The big silver gun discharged once with a deafening
KA-BOOM
,
the bullet flashing past my face and shattering Uncle Andy’s small television. I
dove to the left, firing off several rounds as I went.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK
.
The pale girl still twisted in his grip, scratching and biting as he
backpedaled.
KA-BOOM
!!!  He blasted again, spraying the floor with a
cone of red splatter as the girl dropped, holding her hands over the large
fissure that now appeared in her lower abdomen. I fired twice more, striking
him once in the upper shoulder as he spun around, raising the magnum towards me.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of movement near the front door.
So did he. Emily stepped from the shadows of the porch with a shotgun in her
hand, already raised and ready to fire, but the cowboy was quick, and the
simultaneous detonations rang my eardrums as time seemed to slow down. Emily’s
blast clipped the cowboy in the leg, and his return shot knocked her backwards
and sent the shotgun flying. My mind was screaming in rage as I rolled to the
right and got up onto one knee, firing at him and missing.
CRACK-CRACK-click
.

Shit . . . I was out!

Cowboy staggered to his feet quickly, a wicked smile
spreading across his face as he said, “Ohhh . . . Looks like you’re about to
head down that long dark road,” he glanced hastily at his own wounds and said,
“And I might not be too far behind you. But don’t you worry none, I’ll make
sure I spend a little bit of quality time entertaining your friend before I
go.” The big silver barrel rose, settling on my chest as the cowboy winked at
me and said, “Nighty-night.”

click
.

The smile dropped from his face instantly, and he swore a
string of curses as he bolted for the back room. I was on my feet and sprinting
after him a split second later. Even as wounded as he was, he still managed to
get the door to the bedroom shut and locked before I got there. I crashed into
it with my shoulder, splintering the center before rearing back and ramming it
again. With a loud
SMASH
the door flew open and I ducked as he swung the
large shed antler of an elk at me, shattering it against the wall. I got to my
feet as he was tearing at the back door. There was a second figure in the room
that my mind’s eye partially registered as I charged the cowboy. Strapped to
the bed was another lady, partially covered with a blanket but not moving. The
cowboy flung open the door and was moving through as I crashed into him,
spilling us into a tangle as we rolled outside. He slammed his elbow into my
chin and made me see stars as I knee’d him in the stomach and reached for my
knife. Another blow from his fist glanced off my cheek, but allowed him to get
his feet under my hips and he heaved me up and backwards at least eight feet. I
crashed to the ground, rolling onto my side as I scrambled to get my bearings
and stand up. Almost as one we both hobbled to our feet, me shaking my head and
Cowboy holding his stomach and shoulder. We were both gasping for air, and in
the semi darkness of the moonlit night I locked eyes with him, searing his
image onto my soul as the definition of evil. And then, incredulously, he began
to laugh. I gripped my knife tightly and stared back, willing myself to inflict
maximum pain and damage on him as I said two words.

“Max . . . protect!”

As soon as those words left my mouth I saw Michelle in the
back doorway, and she screamed, “ERIC, LOOK OUT!”

Bursting from around the corner, a huge black missile
barreled straight past the cowboy, giant paws slamming into the ground and
propelling 107 pounds of death directly towards me before leaping at the last
second, sailing past my shoulder and crashing into a snarling, shredding heap
with a figure that had been right behind me. The horrible sound of flesh
rending and bone snapping diverted my attention long enough that the cowboy
leapt at me, covering the short distance in three steps. But I was ready in two.
I ducked under his combination haymaker-elbow strike, and smashed my shoulder
into his chest before punching the knife straight into his gut and ripping it
sideways, eviscerating him. He went to his knees, his considerable weight
falling against me as I withdrew the blade. Knocking his hat off, I gripped his
short greasy hair and twisted his neck to look at me. There was pain in his
eyes, and a deep, deep fear.

“You go to hell,” I hissed through clenched teeth as I
swiveled around him and slashed the razor edge deep into his windpipe. Standing
up, I watched him teeter on his knees for brief moment before slumping forward
with a final gurgle and hiss.

Max was still tearing at a prone, shirtless figure on the
ground. In the moonlight I could tell it was a skinny guy—maybe twenty years
old. The parts of his body that Max hadn’t shredded were covered with tattoos. His
ankle was locked to a long chain, the other end of which was wrapped around an
oak tree behind the cabin. He wasn’t moving any more.

I gave a sharp whistle. “Max, c’mere.”

He tore into the figure once again as if to say “And you go
to hell too!” before padding over next to me. I was still spinning with the
rapid fire events that seemed like they lasted for hours, even though it had
probably been less than seven minutes since they shot Uncle Andy.

“UNCLE ANDY!!” My mind screamed as I mouthed the words. Twisting
around, I ran back to the cabin. Michelle was leaning in the doorway, still in
handcuffs. She had managed to get her clothes back on and was gripping a gun. I
stopped briefly next to her, noting that her face was frozen in a combination
of fear and furious wrath. She was looking back into the cabin.

“Michelle . . .” I said. She didn’t make a sound except for
deep steady breathing.

“Michelle,” I repeated, “are you OK?”

She swiveled her head toward me, her eyes focusing on my face
briefly before she turned and walked straight into the cabin and down the hall.
I followed. The woman on the bed was exactly as I remembered. She still didn’t
move, and I wasn’t sure if she was alive. Michelle’s steady pace ended at the
kitchen. The guy I had shot multiple times had managed to drag himself about twelve
feet from the closet wall into the kitchen. A body width smear of deep scarlet
and frothy pink trailed behind him. He moaned, slightly turning to face us at
our approach. Michelle raised the pistol, and Skull and Crossbones narrowed his
eyes and grimaced, shaking his head slightly.

“You’re a damn cop . . . you ain’t gonna shoo . . .”

BOOM!! . . . BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM
. . . Michelle’s first shot took
half of his forehead off, and she emptied the rest of the magazine into his
face and body while screaming, “AAAYYYYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE.” Her
breath was coming in ragged, sobbing gasps, and she sank to her knees. I knelt
beside her, hugging her tight as her chest heaved. From behind us a faint groan
sounded.

I gave another tight squeeze to Michelle before turning
around and standing. The pale skinned girl with the rat tail was lying in a
spreading pool of blood, but she was still alive.

“Michelle . . . MICHELLE,” I shouted, “get some sheets or
towels . . . MICHELLE!” I barked again, finally getting her attention as she
looked around. “Please, go get some towels,” I said again. She seemed to snap
out of it, shaking her head and saying, “Sorry . . . I’m on it.”

The large flashlight that my uncle keeps hanging on a peg by
the door was still there, so I grabbed it and ran to the porch. I stepped over
the body of the big man dressed in black and turned to the right. Emily was
leaning against the wall underneath the broken window, clutching her right
shoulder with her hand. I could see a small trickle of blood seeping from
between her fingers, but she looked up at me and forced a smile.

“Did you get them?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, they’re all dead.”

She took a short, fast gasp of air. “And Michelle . . . is
she OK?”

I knelt beside her and adjusted her hand position. “Michelle
is fine . . . thanks to you. Now keep your hand right there, and keep pressure
on it. Don’t let go—I’ll be right back.”

She gave another halfhearted smile. “I’m OK . . . go help
your uncle.” Her speech was starting to slur; she was losing a lot of blood.

I bolted off the porch and out into the yard, searching the
grass with a big flashlight. A short distance away I found my uncle crumpled on
the ground. Diving down next to him, I saw that his head was a bloody mess, but
he was still breathing. I swore out loud. “Shit . . . son of a bitch . . . I
need more hands!”

Shining the light in a rapid circle, I took stock of my
options. Max appeared at my shoulder, staring down at Uncle Andy with his
golden eyes for a moment before pawing him several times, trying to get him to
wake up and play. I didn’t have a choice, and ran for my truck. Flinging the
door open, I noticed that the inside looked like it had been ransacked. The
keys, which had been in the cabin when I left, were now in the ignition. I
jumped in and started it up, shifted it into gear and pulling forward and to
the right, driving in a large circle and ending up near the porch. Michelle
came out with several sheets and tee shirts, and was folding one up for Emily
as I jumped out of the truck.

“Michelle, we need to get them to Walter’s house. We need to
do that now or they’re not going to make it.”

She looked up at me and said, “Samantha’s really bad. This is
Emily, right?”

I nodded, noticing that Emily had slumped over and passed
out.

Michelle said, “Go cut Melissa free, she’s still alive I
think, maybe she can help us. I’ll take care of Emily until you get back . . . and
Eric, I’m so sorry about your uncle.”

“He’s still alive,” I said, “but he’s not moving. We’ve got
to get them more help.”

Michelle seemed shocked at the news that my uncle was still
breathing, and she nodded briskly and said, “Go.”

I trotted into the cabin—the girl with the rat tail, Samantha
I’d guess—was still moaning softly. I moved to the back room where the other
lady was bound. It had to be Melissa, although I wondered how Michelle knew
that as I sliced through the ropes that held her. Pulling the cover off, it was
obvious that she was also unclothed and abused. Small craters of cigarette
burns speckled most of her body. She was breathing, but didn’t even move once
she was freed. She just kept staring straight up at the ceiling. I tried
talking to her, calling her by name, but nothing was helping and I was running
out of time. So I lifted her under the armpits and stood her up. After a brief
wobble she stayed long enough for me to grab a blanket and throw it around her.

“Melissa . . . they’re all dead. They can’t hurt you anymore,
do you hear me . . . you’re safe now . . . but we have to leave right now. The
trucks are out front . . . we’ve got to go.”

She was still standing upright, swaying slightly with a blank
stare on her face. “Melissa,” I said again, “I’ll be right back for you.” I
turned and trotted out to the living room, stopping briefly to pick up the pale
girl and carry her out to the bed of my truck. When I got there I found that
Michelle already had Emily maneuvered into the truck bed, and a small pile of
thick blankets had been thrown in as well. Michelle was reapplying a folded
shirt to Emily’s shoulder wound, securing it in place with a torn a strip of
cloth. I set Samantha down next to Emily and we wrapped them both in comforters.

“I’m going to need your help with my uncle.”

Michelle nodded and jumped over the side of the truck bed,
landing on the ground easily before moving up to where Max was still standing
guard. I hopped in the truck and drove it forward, saving us twenty yards of
carrying. It took both of us to gently lift and position my uncle in the truck
bed. Max bounded up immediately after, laying down next to him.

“One more thing to do,” I thought to myself as I prepared to
hurry back to the cabin and grab Melissa, but a yell from Michelle cut me
short.

“MELISSA . . . NO DON’T!” Michelle was shining the beam of
the big flashlight towards the back of the yellow truck. I looked over and saw
Melissa shrug the blanket off of her shoulders and reach into the jacked up
truck. Michelle screamed the same warning, but Melissa paid no attention and
withdrew a small bundle, clutching it to her chest protectively. I saw the bundle
squirm and wriggle, but Melissa sank to her knees and held on tighter.

I turned to get off of the truck and help Melissa, but
Michelle grabbed my coat sleeve and stopped me. “There’s nothing we can do for
her now,” she said, “but you’re right, we’ve got to go.” She held up her still
cuffed wrists and said, “But first, get these damn things off of me.” I reached
in to the ignition switch and grabbed my keys. A minute later the cuffs were
off, and she was riding in the back with my coat for warmth, keeping pressure
on Emily’s shoulder as I drove. For my uncle and Samantha, we could only hurry
up and pray.

My personal truck is equipped with a combination marine, CB,
and GMRS band radio. Although it was technically illegal to use the marine band
outside of an aquatic environment, I really didn’t think the FCC would give a
rat’s ass, and neither did I. Besides, it had the best transmit range of my
available options since I busted Michelle’s portable unit, and in any event
would be the most likely one that Walter would be listening to. I flipped the
power on and switched it to the marine band.

“Walter, this is Eric . . . repeat . . . Walter, this is Eric,
do you copy?”

There was no answer.

“Walter, or anybody at the marina or campground, this is Eric
. . . can you hear me . . . This is an emergency.”

The truck bounced over a small rut, and Michelle thumped the
rear window. I slid the glass open as I drove on. “Sorry.”

Her voice rose over the sound of the engine and rushing wind.
“S’ok . . . just be careful.”

I keyed the microphone again.
“Sheldon’s Marina, do you
copy. This is Eric, can anybody hear me?”

I waited another thirty seconds and repeated my call. I was
still two miles from the gravel road.

“Eric, is that you?”
It was a female voice. One that I’d heard before but
couldn’t place immediately.

“This is Eric . . . who am I talking to?”

“Eric, this is Amy Salvucci . . . from the campground.”

I jumped right in.
“Amy, is Doc there . . . I need you to
get him to Walter’s right away. I’m inbound with wounded people. This is an
emergency Amy, I need him to meet me at Walter’s with his medical stuff.”

There was a slight pause before she came back.
“Eric, he’s
already there. We’re already there. All of us that are left anyhow.”

Did I just hear her right? 
“What . . . what do you mean?”

Another pause before she came back.
“Eric, Walter is here
. . . he wants to tal . . .”
Her musical voice cut off abruptly and was
replaced with a gruff tone.

“Eric . . . this is Walter. Where are you boy?”

“I’m on the dirt road about a mile from the gravel. I’ve got
three seriously injured people with me and they’ll need immediate medical
attention when I get to your house.” I
t was my turn to pause before I added,
“If they make it
that far.”

“Understood. I’ll have Doc and Rebecca get ready. Let me talk
to Andy a minute.”

I keyed the microphone again, holding it down and
transmitting dead air as I searched for the words.
“Walter . . . Andy is one
of the injured ones.”

The tennis game of pauses volleyed back to him.
“Understood.
Hold on a sec . . .“
After another short delay, he came back on.
“Eric,
Doc wants to know what the natures of the injuries are.”
His tone had taken
an abrupt shift, and he sounded hesitant to me. Before I could follow my
thought path to its conclusion, he broke through again.
“Eric, we need to
know if anybody’s been . . . attacked. By them things.

I saw where this was heading.
“No,”
I replied
,
“negative on attacks. Tell Doc he has three gunshot victims coming in, repeat,
three gunshot victims inbound.”

Walter kept his connection open, and I heard several voices,
some of them raised, in the background. I couldn’t make out very much of it
over the noise of my truck, however.

Amy’s voice came back over the air.
“Hey Eric . . . I’m
being told to ask you if you’re able to give specifics on the injuries so they
know what to prepare for.”

I was about 200 yards from the gravel road, but these were
200 of the roughest
. “Amy . . . yes I can, but you’ll have to wait a few
minutes,” I
threw the microphone onto the seat, concentrating both of my
hands on the steering wheel as I navigated through the ‘bridge’, as my uncle
called it. It was the very first part of the dirt road that he intentionally left
rough to discourage trespassers.

I leaned my head back and shouted, “ARE YOU OK BACK THERE?”

Over the next several bumps Michelle answered, “I CAN’T . . .
TELL . . . IF ANDY HAS A PULSE. IT’S TOO ROUGH IN THE BACK . . . BOUNCING ALL
AROUND HERE. EMILY IS STILL . . . SEEPING BLOOD . . . SAM . . . ANTHA . . . NOT
MOVING.” Michelle’s teeth were chattering with the cold and exposure.

“GET UNDER THE BLANKETS WITH THEM. IT’S ABOUT TO GET REALLY
COLD AND WINDY,” I yelled.

I saw her throw blankets over top of Uncle Andy, Samantha and
Emily. “DON’T . . . WORRY . . . ABOUT ME . . . JUST GO . . . PUNCH IT,” she
shouted back, spreading out her arms and leaning down to try and hold the
blankets in place as I turned onto the gravel road and gunned it.

In the space of ten seconds I was rocketing down the gravel
at seventy miles an hour. I reached down and followed the coiled cord, locating
the microphone that had been bumped off the seat.

“Amy, do you copy?”

Her reply was immediate.
“Yes Eric, I can hear you.”

“I am . . . . . .”
I broke off my sentence, looking at my speedometer and
crunching numbers.
“I’m about eight to ten minutes away. Moving fast. I’ve
got three . . . repeat three gunshot victims inbound. Victim number one is a white
female about twenty years old. Serious abdominal wound in the lower right
quadrant. She’s unresponsive and has lost a lot of blood. Victim number two is
Emily, Doc’s granddaughter. Upper right shoulder wound. Was awake and
responsive about ten minutes ago, but has since gone unconscious. Probably
shock and loss of blood. Victim three is Uncle Andy,” I
almost couldn’t
bring myself to form the next six words
. “He’s been shot in the head. Last
check was breathing but unresponsive.”