Dead Center, page 2
part #2 of Nemesis Series
His hands clenched the handle of the knife tightly, his knuckles turning white. His anger had reached a crescendo. He wanted desperately to plunge his knife into her or slice her throat but doing do now seemed to only prove her point, a point he wouldn’t allow her to win. He walked behind her and cut the bindings. “Now, stand up and fight me.”
With the bindings on her arms free, she brought them around. She could feel the blood rushing back to them.
“Get up,” he barked. He was behind her, his knife firmly in his grip.
Lexi rubbed her wrists and glanced around the room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon, but came up with nothing.
“Come on, bitch.”
“You just cut me loose, at least allow me a minute,” she said as a way to stall for time. She slowly got to her feet. Like her arms, her legs were stiff from the blood restriction to them. She turned around slowly until she was facing Lee. The only thing in between them was the wooden chair. She looked at it, then without a second’s thought kicked it hard. The chair shot backwards and collided with a stunned Lee. She simultaneously lunged for the knife.
Lee was taken by surprise even though he had steeled himself for the fight.
Lexi misjudged her reach. Her left hand took hold of his forearm and her right landed on his hand just a short two inches from the blade.
He retreated but could only go a foot as his back hit the wall.
She leveled her shoulder into his chest, pushed down on his right arm, and with a quick head snap, smashed her forehead into his face, breaking his nose.
He howled in pain and jerked his arm further back. The blade of the knife traveled over Lexi’s fingers, slicing them badly.
She reeled back again with her head and hammered it against his broken nose.
Lee cried out in pain.
With Lee’s right arm under control and reeling from the sudden assault, she released the grip with her left hand, swung it back and came at him with her elbow, hitting him in the jaw. The strike from her hit was enough to daze him. She could tell she had the advantage and pressed on by repeatedly hammering him with her elbow until his knees wobbled and gave out.
He dropped to the floor.
She recoiled her right leg and kicked him in the face, not once, but three times.
Voices carried from outside the door.
She pulled the Taurus pistol from his holster and turned just as the door opened.
It was Roger. He brought his pistol up, took a quick aim, and pulled the trigger.
A gunshot cracked.
Lexi felt the searing pain as a bullet tore through the fleshy part of her left side. She raised the Taurus and pointed it, then pulled the trigger.
Roger gasped as the 9 mm round struck him in the chest.
Before he could do anything else, Lexi fired two more rounds into him.
With three fatal wounds to his chest, Roger stumbled backwards and collapsed against the wall. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Lexi shrieked in pain. She looked down and saw Lee had plunged his knife into her right thigh.
He twisted the blade and pulled it out.
She limped a few steps away, pivoted and aimed the pistol in his direction.
Knowing he had few options, Lee took a chance and threw the knife. It missed her by a wide berth. “Go ahead, bitch, shoot me.”
“Don’t worry, I planned on it,” Lexi said and pulled the trigger.
The 9 mm round penetrated just above the bridge of his nose and exited the back of his head with parts of skull, brain and blood splattering against the white walls, painting them red.
Lee opened his mouth but only blood poured out. He fell over face-first and hit the floor, dead.
She surveyed the carnage. She’d won but at a cost. She’d been shot, her right hand cut deeply, and the knife wound in her thigh was bleeding badly. She hobbled over to Roger’s body and picked up his pistol. She tucked it in her waistband and was about to step off when she spotted a red bandana dangling from his pocket. She pulled it out and examined it to find it was relatively clean. She wrapped her hand and tied it off tightly then exited the room.
She found herself in a darkened hallway. Without the ability to see, she paused and listened, but heard nothing but music coming from farther down the hall. The muffled sound told her there was a room ahead, and someone was having a jolly good time. She limped down the hall; each step she took, the music grew louder until she was standing in front of a door. Cracks of light spilled out from the edges of the door. She pressed her ear against it and listened. All she heard besides the music were two children playing. She threw open the door and came in with her pistol raised.
Terry and his younger sister, Ava, who was five years old, were playing a board game on a small black table to the right. The room itself was large, and by the furniture layout she could tell it was a living room. Terry looked up from his game and saw her. He screamed and got up to run but didn’t go a foot before Lexi said, “Sit back down and shut up.”
Her right hand throbbed and blood oozed out from the edges of the bandana. Gripping a pistol was painful, but she’d have to suffer for now.
“Don’t hurt us,” Terry pleaded.
“I don’t kill kids,” Lexi informed him. “How do I get out of here?”
Ava, who remained silent, pointed to the far door.
“Thank you,” Lexi said and limped towards the door, leaving a trail of blood along the way.
The door in question burst open and in came Gavin half dressed. “Kids…” he hollered before pausing when he saw Lexi.
Lexi didn’t hesitate; she raised her pistol and fired. The round struck Gavin in his shoulder and spun him halfway around. He fell to his knees and dropped the pistol he was holding.
“Dad!” Terry howled. He ran to Gavin’s side and put his arm around him.
Ava stood frozen. Tears streamed down her face.
“Back away, kid,” Lexi said and advanced on Gavin, her pistol leveled at his face.
“No, don’t hurt my dad, please,” Terry cried.
“Kid, your dad is a bad man,” Lexi said.
“He’s my dad,” Terry cried.
“Is there anyone else in the house?” Lexi asked.
“I’m not telling you anything!” Gavin hollered.
“Kid, is there anyone else in the house?” Lexi asked Terry. She took a half step to steady herself as she felt a bit dizzy.
“Just my mom,” Terry answered.
“Damn it, boy, keep your mouth shut,” Gavin barked.
“Please don’t hurt my mom,” Terry pleaded.
“Not Mama, no,” Ava whined.
Lexi shot Ava a look and said, “I won’t hurt her unless she tries to hurt me.”
“Leave, just go,” Terry screamed.
“That’s all I want to do,” Lexi said. “Believe me, I just want to get the hell out of here.”
The door opened again; this time it was Nancy, Gavin’s wife. In her hands she held a shotgun, its muzzle pointed at the floor. She and Lexi looked at each other.
“Just drop it!” Lexi barked, the pistol in her grip leveled at Nancy’s chest.
Nancy raised the shotgun, but before she could pull the trigger, Lexi put two rounds in her. Nancy stumbled backwards and collapsed into the hallway from which she’d come.
“Mama, no!” Terry screamed. He jumped up and ran to his mother’s side. He took her hand. “Mama, no, no.”
Nancy lifted her head, blood streaming from the sides. “Kill her. Pick up the shotgun and kill her.”
Terry stared at the shotgun just a few feet away.
“Don’t do it, kid,” Lexi warned. “Please don’t.”
With Lexi’s attention on Terry, Gavin made his move; he reached for his dropped pistol.
Lexi pivoted and let loose a round, hitting Gavin in the side of the face. The bullet passed through and exited the lower side of his right jaw, leaving it dangly by just the skin.
Gavin groaned and fell onto his side. Blood poured from the gaping wound and pooled on the floor.
Nancy choked on her own blood, gasped her last breath, and died.
Lexi turned back to Terry and snapped, “Kid, don’t do it. Do not pick up the shotgun, I’m begging you.”
Terry, torn between what to do, decided in an instant he needed to go for the shotgun.
“Shit,” Lexi roared. She put her sights on Terry and pulled the trigger. It only took the one well-placed shot to put Terry down. He grunted and fell to the floor dead.
Ava shrieked.
“Damn it!” Lexi barked in anger. She’d never killed a child, but she’d made a snap decision, it was either her and her unborn baby or Terry. She of course opted to save herself, which in turn saved her child still inside her.
Ava continued to scream.
Lexi faced Ava. “Stop screaming.”
Ava stood in shock after witnessing her entire family being killed, and continued to scream.
Feeling she couldn’t leave her alone, Lexi walked towards Ava.
Terrified, Ava ran out the back door from which Lexi had entered the room and disappeared down the dark hall, her screams growing fainter until Lexi couldn’t hear her anymore.
Alone, Lexi surveyed the death, and while she didn’t want to kill Terry, she chalked it up as a righteous kill. When given the choice, she’ll always choose her kid over someone else’s. She stepped over Terry, picked up the shotgun, and exited the room. She found herself in another hall, but this one shorter. A dim light illuminated from a window at the far end. She headed for it and ended up in a foyer with a thick wooden door separating her from the outside. Lexi had no idea if anyone else was close by or how many other people she would encounter; all she knew was she needed to get the hell out of there before Gavin’s other brother, August, arrived.
She threw open the door and stepped out. She was weak from the blood loss, and her baby was kicking like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She stumbled down the steps of the porch and onto a gravel drive. The waxing moon gave her significant light to see. To her left was a barn and to the right she spotted a quad runner. She walked over to it and saw the key in the ignition. She turned the key and a red light appeared. “Yes,” she said out loud. She pressed the start button on the right grip.
The quad fired up, its throaty exhaust sound echoing off the side of the house.
The headlight kicked on, and in front of her she spotted the most horrific sight. Lying in a pool of blood were Beau and Frenchie. She climbed off the quad and walked over to them. She knelt and petted Beau’s thick coarse hair. Tears broke free and streamed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, buddy. It appears I bit off more than I could chew this time.” She rubbed Frenchie’s belly and more tears came. She hated losing her longtime companions. They’d been good dogs, better than most people she’d joke. Now they were dead, murdered, all because she thought it was a good idea to help a woman she didn’t know from being raped. “If it means anything, I got the bastard who did this.”
She couldn’t just leave their bodies there. She found a tarp near a pile of wood against the house and placed their bodies in it and wrapped it up. She set them across the tail rack of the quad and secured them down by a bungee cord which was already there. “I’ll give you two the proper burial you deserve.”
Her knees felt wobbly, and her head swooned just from the little bit of effort with the dogs. Her blood loss was getting worse and now put her and her baby in jeopardy. She climbed on board the quad and sped off down the long drive, unsure where she’d go next.
She progressed nicely down the gravel road, the moonlight helping to guide her way. She tore around an S turn, hit a large pothole and lost control. She quickly tried to adjust but hit a subsequent hole. The handlebars turned hard to the right, pointing her down a steep slope. As if she were riding a bull, she held on and navigated around large pines. Her fear waned as she thought she’d be fine; then came the downed tree. She slammed into it. The quad stopped but she didn’t as she flew over the handlebars. She landed on her back with a thud.
She groaned loudly and instinctually she felt her belly. Her concern for the child’s health and well-being was growing with each second. She’d been through a lot already; now she’d just crashed. She went to sit up but stopped when she felt a wave of vertigo hit her.
“Just lie down for a second more,” she said.
Nausea quickly set in. She rolled onto her side and vomited nothing but bile. A cold and clammy sweat clung to her skin. She was in trouble, as was her baby. She knew she had to get up and keep moving, but where? Where was she to go? She was a nine-month-pregnant woman with no place to call home. No one to call upon.
Lying flat on her back, her hands caressing her belly, she did something she rarely did—cry. Tears poured from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her arrogance and pride had caused this situation. All she had to do was turn away, let the stranger get raped, but she couldn’t regardless of her own well-being and that of her unborn child. She cursed as she screamed in anguish, feeling this was probably as far as she’d go, and it was all because of her own vanity.
“I’m so sorry, little baby, I’m so sorry,” she wept, her hands coursing over her belly.
She felt movement and paused her hand over it. More movement came, it was a kick or maybe a punch, who knew; but what she did know was her child was alive. She hadn’t killed it, yet.
“You’re still moving, I know you’re mad at me, and I’m sorry, but I promise from now on I won’t be so stupid. Will you forgive me?”
Movement in her belly gave her a sign.
“You forgive me? Thank you.”
Again the baby moved.
“Are you trying to talk to me, or you’re just stretching in there? I don’t know how you do it, I hate confined spaces,” she joked.
She peered through the thick tree cover and spotted some stars.
“It’s beautiful, I want you to see all the wonders of the world. It’s still around, you just have to look for it. I’ll show you all the beauty and wonder but I’ll also train you ’cause the world is a dichotomy. For all its beauty it’s equally matched with ugliness and brutality.”
She lay for a few more minutes, her gaze watching the branches above her sway.
“Time to get up and move,” she said. She sat up like before, again felt the vertigo but ignored it. Using a tree to next to her for support, she braced herself against it and stood straight up quickly. The instant she was erect, the vertigo surged. She looked around, but everything around her blurred and appeared as if it was moving in circular motion. “Oh no,” she mumbled. She grasped for the tree but missed and toppled over. Her head slammed against a rock, knocking her unconscious.
SEPTEMBER 14, 2016
“Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices.” —Alfred A. Montapert
OUTSKIRTS OF TRUCKEE, CALIFORNIA
August was a large and brooding man. He was the oldest of what his family liked to call the Clancy Clan. He towered over six feet four inches, had thick dark hair with a receding hairline, giving him steep widow’s peaks, and was muscular in stature. Even though most men stopped shaving for a variety of reasons after the world as they knew it changed, he made sure to keep his face freshly shaven and smooth. He was meticulous about everything and paid attention to every detail. These were traits that made him perfect as the leader of the clan and overseer of the area they now controlled with an iron fist.
The Clancy Clan was comprised of five brothers, August, Gavin, Michael, Avery and Scott. They were close and had always worked together in a variety of jobs when they became adults, the last being working as security at the El Dorado Casino in Reno. Within days of the super-EMP, the brothers, under August’s guidance, quickly took control of the area and the town of Truckee by seizing all the supplies they could get their hands on by force. Soon they gathered a sizable army of followers, most of them cousins and other relatives.
When Roger’s son had arrived at August’s house, he was frantic. He told August what had happened to Michael and that Gavin needed him to come.
Without question, August gathered his gear and headed for Gavin’s house. He assumed what he’d find would be an angry brother and the killer of Michael, but that wasn’t what he discovered.
In disbelief he stood over the body of Gavin. His eyes darted to Nancy and Terry then scanned the room for Ava his five-year-old niece. He made his way to the darkened hall; a light from the back room welcomed him to come investigate. Unsure of what else he’d find, he removed his Springfield 1911 from his shoulder holster and headed to the back room. He peeked around the corner to find the bodies of Lee and Roger. He knew this was where Gavin liked to hold people he’d torture.
It was something August was opposed to, but because it was his brother, he never paid much attention as long as it didn’t interfere with their hold on the town.
A loud clank sounded from down the hall near the living room.
August turned and pointed his pistol. He squinted but couldn’t make out anything.
“Uncle Auggie?” a tender voice called out from the darkness.
“Ava, girl, is that you?” August asked. He recognized her voice but because he wasn’t sure if the house wasn’t entirely secure, he kept his pistol raised.
Ava crept down the hall and into the light. Her head was down and her hands clasped in front of her small body.
“Girl, are you alone?” August asked.
She nodded.
“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice gruff.
She lifted her head.
By the look of her red swollen eyes and wet cheeks, he could tell she’d been crying. “Is anyone else here?”
She shook her head.
“The person who did this, killed everyone including your parents, they’re gone? You’re sure about that?”
“Yes,” she replied.
He looked at her and couldn’t help but feel deeply for what had happened, though he was annoyed his brother’s hobby of torturing people had resulted in his and most of his family’s deaths. It wasn’t that he had disdain for torture, he just wished Gavin didn’t take his work home with him. He dropped to a knee and held out his arms. “Come to your uncle.”
