The Endless Struggle, page 19
part #3 of Random Survival Series
The woman tensed, her eyes darting behind Mark. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He spun just as a shape barreled at him. The man collided with Mark and blasted him backward. He hit Mark with enough force to drive the air from his lungs and the rifle from his hands. The impact with the ground further deflated Mark, his body convulsed with new pain.
His attacker straddled him, lifted a fist and drove it downward. Mark moved his head, dodging the blow. The fist grazed his head and struck the ground; the man winced and grunted.
Mark twisted and drove an elbow into the man’s side. The man had too much meat there for that attack to work. Latching on to Mark’s arm, the man pinned him down and launched another punch. This one landed on the side of his head with a smack. His head recoiled, striking the ground.
Mark brought up his knees, alternating them like riding a bike, and pounded them into his assailant’s back. The strikes were barely an annoyance. Another punch landed. A black cloud encircled his vision. He twisted hard in the opposite direction, thrusting upward with his free hand. He struck at the eyes, but the man was far enough away to easily dodge the attempt. He swatted Mark’s hand aside and lifted his fist again.
But, Mark’s effort had slackened the hold on his other hand. He bucked once trying to dislodge his rider. The man lifted and leaned forward, as Mark broke loose of the grip. Before the man could land another blow, Mark snapped his fingers upward and into the right eye.
The man screamed, clutched at his eye and leaned away. Mark didn’t hesitate. He sat up and rolled, swatting the man with an open hand on the side of the head. The combined actions dislodged the combatant. In one motion, Mark, grabbed the man by the neck, pushed him hard to the ground and slid his knife from its sheath.
He lay on the man and drove the blade deep into his gut. Releasing the hold on his neck, Mark slapped his hand over the man’s mouth and pressed his full weight on the thrust. The man kicked and screamed, but Mark held fast and muffled the sound as best possible. Sliding the knife out, he jammed it in again, higher this time, toward the heart.
His victim continued to squirm, gave a sudden gasp and his eyes turned up, then stilled, as the life drained from him. Immediately, Mark leaped from the body and scanned the area. No one was coming as yet. He searched for the rifle, but couldn’t find it. His gaze rose to the woman’s. She stood there, rifle in hand, pointed straight at him.
The woman didn’t flinch. She had him and Mark knew it. Why was she delaying? In a tremulous voice, she said, “I’ll help you, on one condition. You take us with you.”
Mark didn’t have much choice. The answer came quick and easy. “Of course. Where are my friends?”
“It’s not that easy. In the meeting, they were bid on. Someone owns them now, just as he once owned me.” She jabbed the barrel toward the dead man. “Are you alone?”
Mark nodded.
“The people you seek will be in different places. You won’t be able to get to them all.” A strange look covered her face. Mark recognized it. She was reconsidering her position. In a fast step, Mark grabbed the barrel and ripped it from her hands. The woman slunk backward, defeated and once again afraid.
“Okay, here’s the deal. I don’t have much time. Tell me where one of them is. You can go wait by the back fence.” She shook her head. “Tell me, and when I get them, I’ll come back this way. You can decide then if you want to go with us.”
She thought about that.
“Hurry. Decide.”
She nodded. “You see the main building?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “The building to the left has one of the women. The house has the woman and the child. I don’t know where the other one is.”
The Donnollys. Again he struggled to recall their names. “Is there anyone inside guarding them?”
“I don’t know. If not, they will be tied up and locked in a room.”
“What else can you tell me?”
“Nothing. He told me to stay here and not to move when the shooting started.”
Mark grabbed the body and dragged it across the living space to next door. He stripped him of a pistol and stuck it in his belt. The shooting at the front of the yard had slackened. He didn’t know what that meant but feared time was shorter than he hoped. “Be there or I will have to go without you.” Giving the woman one last look, he sprinted for the back of the long central building.
There, he pressed against the wall and studied the living quarters he passed along the way. If anyone saw him, no one cried out. Sliding to the corner nearest the side building, Mark peered around. Forty yards away, a line of shooters had taken to the ramparts. Everyone faced forward. He looked at the distance he needed to cover to reach safety. Twenty feet to the first cover. Maybe thirty yards to the dark structure. Didn’t seem like much unless you were dodging bullets.
He dashed for the first line of cars. Reaching an old Cadillac Seville, he continued to the trunk and ducked. From there, he duck-walked from vehicle to vehicle, until the building was the only thing left to attain. Darting for the side wall away from the shooters, Mark stopped and caught his breath, hoping it would also calm the heavy thumping of his heart.
A loud pounding sounded near the fence ten yards further on, as if someone knocked on a metal door. Almost too late he recognized the sound and understood the meaning. He ducked low and hugged the wood wall as an armed man ran along the tops of the cars used as ramparts. He passed Mark, his eyes focused on the gunfight ahead. Swallowing away the dryness, Mark slid under a window. On tiptoes, he peered through the dirty glass. No light shone within and no images came to focus. He had to go in blind.
The window was an old style, wood frame, with an upper and lower pane. Mark withdrew the knife and grabbed onto the windowsill. He pulled upward, pressing an elbow along the ledge to keep him balanced. With his free hand he slid the blade into the space between the two window frames. The blade struck metal and stopped. Withdrawing the knife, he turned the blade around so the spine hit the latch. He pressed hard, but the lock would not budge.
Dammit!
His arm straining to hold him, Mark was forced to drop to the ground. He didn’t want to break the window if he could help it. About to try the latch again, Mark heard footsteps.
Forty-Seven
The gunfight had been steady and intense since arriving at the house. Her fear barely contained, Mel sighted and pulled the trigger again. The opposing forces had attempted to rush the house twice, but both times had been driven back. Several bodies dotted the road between the two sides.
Right now they were in a lull, with only occasional shots fired. Bobby had yelled down for them to stop shooting, their ammunition limited. “Save your bullets for if they try to attack again,” he said.
She was getting used to taking orders. She had to concede, Bobby was better than she was with a rifle. She had almost insisted on taking the top spot where she would have a better angle into the camp. Now she was glad she hadn’t. He was so accurate and so fast, both attacks stalled before they’d really begun. Had the enemy force been able to get across the street things might have gone differently. The battle now had settled into a sniping contest.
She dropped the magazine again as if the number had magically multiplied since the last time. Four shots remained and one more full mag. How much longer were they going to stay? She knew what was at stake, but didn’t want to die here.
And, what if they did run out of bullets? How would they make their escape? They certainly couldn’t drive out the way they came. Too many guns were trained on them now. They would have to go cross country. She took a quick look through the now glassless second-story window. How much longer before the sun comes up? Would daylight help or hurt them? It sure wouldn’t help any escape attempts.
God, what had she gotten herself into? Mel had to admit she was scared. Dealing with one or two attackers was one thing, but this, this was like being in a war. She wanted it to be over, for them to stop shooting at her. She sat down next to the window. She understood why they had gone to the community’s farmhouse. Tara needed a doctor. She was doing better now. Isn’t that what Becca said? Maybe she could sneak out now while it was still dark. Make her way back to the farmhouse, collect Tara and head out.
Then a stab of guilt pierced her heart. But what about Caryn? Could she turn her back on her? She thought about how the woman had found her courage and tried to protect Tara. Then, at the house she’d fought hard against a lot of men before they broke inside. Caryn had come a long way in the past few days. She deserved better for her efforts.
And, what of these people? They had taken them in as if they were family. No questions asked. If Bobby and his sister hadn’t come to their rescue, all of them might be in there now. And, most likely, Tara would be dead. These were good, safe people. Lord knows they hadn’t found many of them along the way. In fact, she could count only two, Tara and Caryn. No, in spite of the fear that refused to release her, she couldn’t abandon them.
A bullet whizzed through the broken window, embedding in the wall down the hall. Mel shuddered, deciding then to keep her options open. Someone had a good line on the window. She decided it was time to move.
Crawling from the hallway to the bedroom on her left, she moved the curtains with the rifle barrel. To her surprise, this window still had a full pane of glass. Placing the rifle down, she unlocked and slid the window up. She didn’t want to break the glass, announcing where she was. That would give her first shots the advantage of not being under fire.
As she watched from her new perch, Mel thought about Caryn again and what she must be going through. Although no longer sure she believed, she said a silent prayer for Caryn and one for herself. Then she expanded the coverage to include everyone in the new community they were now a part of, if only for the moment.
Mark slowed his breathing. The footsteps came closer and stopped. He squatted, knife in hand, ready to spring. His body leaned toward the front of the building anticipating his attack. The wait was intense, making him jumpy. Then he heard the jingling sound of keys. His heart skipped with added adrenaline. Could he be so lucky? But, how many are entering the building? He had to know.
Quicker than he would have liked to ensure stealth, he slid toward the front corner, staying crouched. A door creaked. Mark risked a peek. The leg of a man disappeared through the opening, the door closing behind him. He was too late. Moving to the door, Mark listened for a lock to engage. He couldn’t be sure.
A muffled scream penetrated the wall. One of the women was inside. A red haze descended like a veil over his eyes. He pictured Lynn about to be abused. All the willpower he possessed could barely hold him back from crashing through the door, locked or not. He forced his hand to steady and tried the knob. Pushing it open, he stepped inside ignoring the creak.
He stood in a small hallway that ran to the back of the building. Each wood-paneled side wall held two doors. All were closed. He stood and listened.
A slap reverberated through the interior, rebounding like a racket ball, amplified by his brain and the rage they flamed within. A cry of pain followed. Then a male voice issued commands in words Mark’s pulsing heart drowned out. He shut the door with his foot, the click of the latch audible.
Footsteps, to the left; second door. He stepped forward.
The man was interrogating whoever was inside. “Who’s out there?” the voice boomed.
The door knob turned. Mark tensed. The door swung inward revealing a short, thin man, his bib-overall straps hanging loosely. His arm was raised, ready to deliver another strike. I said, “Who’s out ...” He stopped and turned to see who entered.
Mark didn’t as much thrust the knife, as punch the blade through the man’s eye. The scream was abrupt and died with the man. The force of the blow drove the body back into the room. Mark kept moving until the dead man hit the wall. He wouldn’t let the body fall. He growled his hatred and shook violently.
“M-Mark?”
The voice filtered through his consciousness. Like being brought out of hypnosis, he shook his head clear. Arms wrapped around him from the side. He jumped and yanked the blade free then realized the crying female was not attacking him. He returned Caryn’s hug, allowing the contact to drain away his rage.
He let her be for a moment, if only to control his disappointment that it wasn’t Lynn. Prying himself free, he said, “Are you all right?”
She nodded and wiped her face. A red welt marked her cheek. “Did they hurt you, or ...?” He let the question hang in the air.
“No, not really. This was the first time any of them struck me, or … or … anything. I think something might have happened earlier, but a disturbance drew them away. Was that you?”
“Yes. Caryn, where’s Lynn.”
“I don’t know … after they bid for us … they sold us like slaves, Mark.” Her words started the tears anew. “My God, we’ve become animals.”
“Caryn,” Mark urged her back on track.
“After he and his friends bought me, they brought me here and locked me in. I didn’t see what happened to Lynn. The lady doctor was taken out before me. Maybe Lynn’s still in the big building. I hadn’t been here long before the commotion started.”
Mark pictured the main building in relationship to where he was. He would have to find a way in through the back, because the front was in clear view of those on the fence. He remembered the light over the front door. He would be seen for sure. No, he had to find another way in.
“We have to go, now.”
He took her arm, heading for the door. She pulled away. “Don’t grab me like that. I’m not some pet or possession that you can order around. Do you understand?” Her voice shrill, shock initiating hysterics. “I’m a human being. A person. I deserve to be treated with respect,” she ranted, her voice escalating.
Mark held up his hands. “Whoa! Whoa! Stop. I’m sorry. I’m concerned about Lynn. I apologize, but we really do need to go. Okay?”
Her eyes though watery, were hard, her jaw set. Her face drooped a bit as she relaxed and nodded. Mark went back to the body and took the man’s handgun. He handed it to Caryn. “Take your anger out on those who have hurt you. But not unless we have no other choice. Right now, no one knows we’re here.”
Mark was angry too. Lynn was all that mattered now. He turned and left the room leaving her to follow if she chose.
Forty-Eight
Peering out the door, the way was clear. He felt Caryn’s presence. “I’ll walk as casually as possible to the back of that building.” He didn’t tell her what to do.
“Sh-should I follow?”
“It’s up to you, but it would be better if you walked with me, as though we belonged here.” Without waiting for a reply, Mark exited the building. It took great effort to remain calm and not hurry, or look at the manned fence. Movement to his left attracted his attention. His heart rate raced. By the time he reached the back wall of the main building, it was pounding to a marching cadence.
Stopping to calm his nerves, Caryn pressed in next to him. Their eyes met. Her lips trembled, her breathing sounded asthmatic. “Stay calm,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t take offense.
He walked along the back wall. At the far end, he spied a door. Now, if only it weren’t locked. Before he could find out, the door swung open and two men exited in a heated discussion. All four of them stopped in surprise.
Mark reacted first, flashing his knife and lunging. Both men backed away and reached for weapons as sounds of alarm escaped their mouths. Marked kicked the first man in the knee, who dropped to the ground with a scream. In one continuous motion, he thrust at the second man, who blocked the attack with an arm. Continuing his momentum, Mark rammed the opponent against the door jarring them both. Mark slashed, the blade biting deep into a forearm.
His opponent cried out. Mark had to end the fight fast. He shot his elbow up under the man’s chin snapping his teeth together. He followed with a punch to the gut, doubling the man over and finished with the knife driven into the man’s neck.
As quick as he could, Mark withdrew the blade and spun on the other man, already knowing it was too late. The gunshots were testament. The man fell. Caryn sobbed, the gun shaking in her hands.
The camp came to life. Voices shouted, running footsteps sounded. They had to go, but he had to see if Lynn was inside. “Cover me,” he said and stepped inside the door. The large space was dimly lit and wide open. A quick look told him the room was empty. Disappointment shrouded his heart. He ran out and grabbed Caryn’s arm. Not caring if she didn’t like it or not, led her away from the building. She offered no resistance or angry retorts this time. He released her and she ran with him.
Their path took them past the woman and child standing in front of their shelter, the mother’s arms wrapped protectively around the child. Mark didn’t slow, but said, “If you’re coming, follow us.” He didn’t look to see if they did. He pulled the gun from his belt.
He ran toward the rear fence. A voice behind him shouted, “There! Hey, they’re over here.” The fence was still a long way off.
With twenty yards to go, the first bullet chased them. A man suddenly appeared from the right side. The look of surprise on his face evaporated when Mark’s bullet tore through his chest. Mark turned and fired at the pursuit while Caryn, the woman and child ran past. He covered them until they reached the fence.
Loud pounding sounds drew his attention, both left and right. Men ran along the tops of the cars that bordered the fence. He spun and fired two shots in both directions and the gun was empty. Dropping it, he ran, drawing the 9mm from its holster. The rifle still bounced on his back, but would not be much help up close.
Caryn stopped at the closed gate as if puzzled what to do next. “Climb!” Mark yelled. “On the car.”
She scampered up the hood. Bullets pelted the ground around Mark. The woman lifted her child onto the car. Mark reached her as she attempted to ascend. He grabbed her by the hips, lifted and pushed. She fell to her knees on the hood. Mark clambered up after her.
