Half Past Midnight (8 page)

Debra opened an adhesive bandage and gently covered the cut on my neck. I saw tears in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She sniffed and took a deep breath, then jerked her chin to indicate Larry again. “I figured I couldn’t wait any longer and was just about to shoot him when you kicked him, and he screamed and fell. Megan shot the guy holding one of your arms, and the other one pulled a pistol, so I shot him.” She shrugged. “We got lucky.”

I nodded agreement. Though the timing had been accidental, it had nevertheless been perfect. Megan stepped out of the cabin at that point, interrupting what promised to degenerate into another bout of silence. “Mom? Dad? Take a look at this.” There was no mistaking the paramilitary design of the assault rifle.

“Bring it here, Megan.” I turned to Larry. “What kind is it?”

He just glared. I pointed the pistol at him. “I am
not
in the mood for this, Larry. Now, what kind is it?”

“AR-15,” he growled.

“Full or semi?”

“Converted. Fully automatic.”

Megan handed it to me and unholstered a pistol she’d acquired to cover Larry. I recognized the pistol as Frank’s—hers now, the spoils of her first and, hopefully, her last combat. I examined the machine gun. Not knowing much about them, it took me a minute to find the
select fire
mechanism and make sure it was set on
safety
. Slinging the rifle over my shoulder, I went about replacing my arsenal. As I strapped the various weapons to my person, I asked Megan, “Were there any more inside?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t see any. But there were some boxes full of ammunition and dynamite. And lots of food and supplies like we have, only more.” She frowned as if what she was saying was distasteful. “I think these guys are survivalists, too.”

“No.” My voice was sterner than I had intended, but she had struck a nerve. “These guys are thieves and murderers, not survivalists. They’re the kind of people that newscasters like to call survivalists because it’s a catchy term and attracts attention, but they’re no more than common criminals.”

“I beg to differ.” Larry finally broke his silence, speaking from where he sat in his own pooling blood. “Our methods may differ from yours, but we are, indeed, survivalists. Truth be told, we are probably a purer breed of survivalist than you. We have seen and understood the same signs of the end that you have seen. We have prepared for it, just as you have. Better than you have, from what I can see. The world is about to enter an era wherein the strong shall rule over the weak. I plan to be one of the strong. I plan to rule, Leeland, and I am honest enough to admit it.”

I shook my head in amazement. He sounded like a demented television evangelist. “Do you really believe that crap, or do you just use it to recruit these mental midgets you’ve gotten to work for you? ’Survival of the fittest’ doesn’t mean that anyone you kill is less fit than you. It’s a form of natural selection, and you don’t look like Mother Nature to me.”

Seething, I continued, “Tell me something, Larry. If you’re so damn sure that you’re going to be a ruler in this ’New Era,’ then why are you the one sitting there with a hole in your shoulder? Eh? You’ve been beaten. My wife and daughter defeated you. Does that mean you’re going to serve them as your new masters?”

“I was surprised,” he snarled. “Ambushed.”

From the look on his face, he realized his mistake, but the words were already out. I pounced. “Like those people on the road out there? Does that mean that you should be killed, too?”

He laughed. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re incapable of such an act. That is your weakness.”

“Tell it to Edgar and Michael,” I snapped.

“You didn’t kill them, Leeland. Your wife and daughter did, and then only to save your life. Only in self defense, as it were. All of you are incapable of killing in cold blood, even when you’re convinced it’s for the best. Am I not right? Aren’t all of you convinced that I am a murderer? And as such, don’t I deserve death? Don’t I?” He smiled. “You see? You’re incapable of making the hard decisions.

“I had to have supplies. I set up an ambush and, when opportunity presented me with the appropriate caravan, I took it. ’Veni, vidi, vici.’ You couldn’t have done that, Leeland. You’re too weak.”

I mulled over his words. “You’re right, Larry. Things have changed, and somebody has to make the ’hard decisions’ now.”

I raised the pistol and aimed at his head. His eyes widened as I walked over to him. Then, he regained his composure. “You won’t do it. You can’t.”

“You believe in God, Larry? You’ve got three seconds to get things right with Him before I pull the trigger.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“One.”

“You don’t have the balls!”

“Two.” I cocked the hammer.

“B-bullshit. You can’t do it!” Terror in his voice, Larry clenched his eyes tightly closed, apparently finally convinced that I could. He abruptly began sobbing.

I couldn’t resist. “Three!” I aimed at the ground and pulled the trigger. Larry screamed at the top of his lungs and jerked his body rigid, cracking his head on the ground. He must have shrieked for a full five seconds before realizing he still lived.

I wasn’t sure what would have happened if he had remained defiant. Maybe I would have done it. I knew I truly intended to. But when he broke down, despite what he had done, I just couldn’t. I knelt next to him after he had quieted. “If I ever see you again, Larry, one of us won’t walk away from that meeting.”

“You can count on it,” he replied shakily. The hatred returned, worse for his humiliation. “And I’ll be looking forward to it.”

I turned back to Megan. She looked pretty shaken up. “You said you tied Frank up in there?” She nodded.

“Was there any more rope?”

She kept her pistol trained on Larry. “By the front door.”

Inside, I found much more than rope. Boxes were stacked all over the interior. Some were marked as dried or dehydrated food, some as camping gear and, more interestingly, four crates were marked “Ammunition,” one “Dynamite,” and a smaller one labeled “Fuse Caps.”

“Real nice place,” I muttered.

As I grabbed the spool of nylon rope, I noticed Frank, gagged and bound, lying in the doorway of the bathroom. He was still out cold. The porcelain sink lay in three pieces, the largest piece bloody from almost stopping his head from impacting with the floor. Lying next to him was the roll of duct tape that Megan had used to tape his mouth shut. I took the tape and walked back outside.

“Okay, Han, hands behind your back.”

He didn’t argue, and I soon had his wrists tightly bound. I took the added precaution of taping the fingers of each hand together. I didn’t want him to have any chance of untying the rope. That done, I had him sit while I tied his ankles and knees. When I finished, I told Debra, “All right, babe, you can relax a little.” She lowered the rifle. “Keep an eye on him, but I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere just yet.”

I turned to Larry. “Your turn, ’Your Majesty.’ ” God, how I despised him!

He smiled weakly. “You don’t mind if I remain seated, do you?” Despite his nonchalance, I noticed he was extremely pale.

“Suit yourself.” I bound his good arm to his ankles, again taping the fingers together. I left his wounded arm untied. Much as I disliked him, I didn’t see any reason to cause him any unnecessary pain. He wouldn’t be able to use it much, anyway. Against my better judgment, I patched up the hole in his shoulder. I debated on whether I should try to set his leg, but eventually decided it wasn’t immediately life threatening. Besides, a limp might make him just a little less dangerous to others in the future.

“Megan, watch these two while your mom and I go get Frank.”

Debra and I went back into the cabin and dragged out Frank’s unconscious body, laying him with Han and Larry. Leaving them under Megan’s watchful eye, we went back to look through the cabin’s supply dump.

“Do we have room for any of this?” I asked.

She looked a little startled. “You want to take their supplies?”

I turned one of the crates around, exposing a charred corner. “You heard his speech. Larry and company weren’t the original owners. The real owners are lying in the road back there, well beyond needing supplies.”

“Okay… yes, we can carry some of it.”

Examining the crates, she got to business. “You’ll want the ammunition. What about the dynamite?”

I remembered the rear end of the van on the highway. I was willing to bet that there were originally two of those little crates. It might be a little risky hauling dynamite, but there would be considerably less risk involved without someone throwing Molotov cocktails at us. And dynamite could come in very handy. Besides, I wasn’t about to leave it for Larry.

“Definitely.”

“Okay, what else?”

Half an hour later, we were reloaded and on our way, leaving Larry, Han, and Frank where they lay.

***

We arrived at Amber’s forty-five minutes later. Amber, my mother-in-law, must have heard us pull up, because she came out to greet us. “I had a feeling I might be seeing y’all. Come on in. Anybody hungry?”

Thankful, we headed for the sanctuary of her open door.

“What the hell happened to you?” Amber asked, as I came in behind the others.

“Tell you later.” I grinned wearily, happy to have finally reached our goal. The aroma of home cooking wafted in through the air. “What smells so good?”

“Forget the smell. You don’t get zip until you let me see that neck.” Amber was a retired nurse turned small-time chicken and goat farmer and took health risks very seriously. She wasn’t satisfied until she had removed the gauze from my neck and treated the wound herself.

She got the story from Debra and the kids as she did so. When the story reached the point of all the shooting, though, the kids went silent, and Debra continued a bit shakily, “I killed a man, Mom. I know it had to be done… I… but, I just don’t know how to deal with it right now.”

Amber kept quiet. Nothing she could say would change anything, and she was wise enough to know that. But it obviously pained her to see her daughter in such anguish. She opened her arms, and Debra curled into them, tears sliding down her cheeks, comforted in her mother’s arms. The tie was ancient and instinctive.

Everyone had been facing me as Debra spoke: Amber treating my neck, and Debra, Zachary, and Megan watching her. When Debra broke down, Amber and Zach were busy comforting her. So when Megan slipped away, I was the only one to notice.

I patted Amber on the arm and pointed toward the kitchen to let her know I was leaving for a moment, then went to follow Megan. I found her in the back yard sitting in the shadows. She didn’t move as I sat next to her, and we sat together in silence for a time before she spoke.

“This isn’t what it’s going to be like from now on, is it? This is just the first day, Dad, and we’ve already had to kill people.”

I started to reply, but she continued, “I know you told me just this morning that it could happen, but I didn’t really expect anything like that. Did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

But she wasn’t listening to me. “Now Mom is crying because she had to do exactly what you told me I might have to do. So should I be crying, too? Is there something wrong with me?” She turned to me, her face completely devoid of tears, but no less anguished than her mother’s. “I’m not sorry I killed him; I know he would have killed us if he could have. So is there something wrong with me?”

I reached to pull her close, draping my arm around her shoulders as I groped for an answer. “No, babe, there’s nothing wrong with you. Different people just react differently to stress.”

Megan nodded. “I know, but she didn’t have any choice. She knows that, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she knows. She knows it intellectually. But knowing something in your head isn’t the same as knowing it in your heart. I’ve taught you for the past six years that there may come a time when you’ll have to fight, and that you might even have to kill. You’ve had time to deal with the idea.

“But your mother has always tried to live a peaceful life. She’s always thought people are basically good, deep down. Now she can’t think that way. She can’t afford to. Those guys would have killed me. They would have killed all of us to get our supplies, and your mom knows it. To her, it’s like life just reached out and slapped her in the face. That’s why she’s so mixed up right now. Give her a little time to put her head and her heart in sync.”

Megan said nothing, and after a time she laid her head on my shoulder, and we watched the clear night sky that could only be seen far away from cities.

Chapter 6
* * June 13 / 11:34 p.m. * *

La grande cité sera bien desolee,
Des habitans vn seul n’y demeurera
Mur, sexe, temple & vierge violee,
Par fer, feu, peste canon peuple mourra.

The great city will be thoroughly desolated,
Of the inhabitants not a single one will remain there:
Wall, sex, temple and virgin violated,
Through sword, fire, plague, cannon people will die.
Nostradamus –
Century 3, Quatrain 84

Frank led me at gunpoint to the clearing, where Larry and the others stood laughing at my ineffective struggles against the rope that bound my hands behind my back.

“Han! Don’t hold back this time,” Larry screamed, still laughing.

Then came the beating I was powerless to prevent, but somehow it didn’t really hurt. Each time Han hit me, I jerked, expecting the terrible pain, and each time I felt nothing. It was amazing. I began to laugh with Larry and the others. Wasn’t this a grand joke? I was being beaten and couldn’t feel a thing.

Larry quit laughing and screamed, as blood began to pour from his shoulder. He pulled my knife from its sheath on his belt. “Actually, Leeland, it appears that your usefulness is at an end.”

Frantically struggling, I looked to my right and saw Edgar holding my arm with one hand. He used his free hand to rip a bloody shaft from his throat. To my left, Michael held my other arm while he bled profusely from a gaping hole in his chest. He gave me an eerie grin.