Chapter 14

I had my eyes closed and fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of my six shooter. I fought hard to keep my nerves and breathing under control, while waiting anxiously, under the chuck wagon, for the inevitable battle to begin. Gunfire would signal my entrance into a series of events that would not only affect my life, but also the lives of my brothers.

If I played it right we might actually survive this, but if I didn’t, or some dumb fucking luck befell me ... well the three of us would likely die here tonight, in this dark, godforsaken wilderness.

Talk about pressure.

Actually, it’s worse than that; more like a weight, a crushing stress of sorts, trying to collapse my resolve. I think its goal is to paralyze, to enforce inaction, like a preservation instinct and I’m pretty sure it’s deeply held by more than just me. After all, if we don’t run headfirst into danger, we’re less likely to be injured.

Or so the thinking goes.

I’m tempted by this all the time. Sadly, it’s a piss poor instinct, especially in a case like this, as my hesitation would lead to the death of my boys and, though I might survive it physically, who the hell wants to exist in an emotionally dead state, knowing your family is dead because of you?

Fuck that. I surely couldn’t go on that way.

So I had to be ready.

To be strong.

To be fast.

To be deadly.

To react without hesitation.

I could not ... would not falter when called upon.

I replayed my role, over and over, in my mind’s eye, picturing exactly what I had to do. If I could see it, I could do it. If I could do it, we could live.

Any second now...

Just breathe until then...

Be ready...

Any second now...

Don’t be afraid, just breathe...

Be death’s deliverer. Remember that.

You didn’t ask to wear the title, but you’ll distribute its vengeance nonetheless.

It’s you or them. We will never let it to be us.

Any second now...

“Time’s up assholes,” the rustler’s voice breaks the stressful silence. “Either drop your guns and surrender or I’ll put a hole through this retard’s head. I’ll give yas till five and I gotta warn yas ... I’m a quick counter.”

I cocked the hammer of my gun.

“One ... two ... three...” But the dipshit stopped all of a sudden. “What the hell?” he yelled instead.

Boom! The first gunshot sounded.

Our battle had just begun and Jimmy was the one to start it. I’m sure of it. This meant I had three seconds to cover five seconds of ground in order to save his bastardly life.

So I rolled out from under the chuck wagon, in the same direction Jimmy had gone, and sprang to my feet. I pumped my legs as fast as I could, in the direction of the gunshot; hoping our right flank was indeed clear of enemies. If it were, this would be smooth sailing and the quickest route to the center of the rustler’s encampment.

If not ... well I had no time to worry about that. They could shoot at me all they wanted and do their best to gun me down, but I wouldn’t stop moving until reaching that center.

Even if forced to crawl, on one fucking limb, I’d reach that goal no matter what.

By my estimation, Jimmy had just shot the man holding Benny, but unfortunately, four more were probably occupying that immediate space. This obviously left Jimmy severely outnumbered and outgunned.

Sure, he had the element of surprise, but was he fast enough to shoot them all? I hate to admit it, but I really had my doubts. So I had to get there quick, to back his play, and cover his blindside.

Boom! The revolver blasted a second time.

I kept running, even harder now, knowing Jimmy had four bullets left. Desperation was taking hold as I realized even one second of tardiness would cost us dearly. I couldn’t bare to arrive late, only to find Jimmy and Benny shot dead, bleeding out on the ground, all because I didn’t run fast enough.

I ran past Cookie and Frankie, who were both holding fast behind the safety of their covers. Cookie was perched by a fat tree and Frankie was on his belly, beneath a big boulder. They both had their rifles pointed dead ahead, but neither was shooting.

I tapped Cookie on the right shoulder as I ran past him. I’m pretty sure he took my meaning as the old timer popped down on one knee and aimed carefully ahead of me. Hopefully he wouldn’t shoot unless absolutely necessary. If he opened fire early it would draw the rustler’s attention towards him and subsequently at me.

I didn’t need that.

However, if I end up running headfirst into enemy fire I’ll need him to take the assholes out before I reach their line. I had just put my life in his hands. I could think of nobody better to give it to at this point.

I kept running with pistol in hand; ready to put down any sons of bitch standing in my way. I cleared our camp and am well out in front of my men, now in the deadly neutral territory, or the kill zone as some might call it.

So far so good. Nobody seemed to notice my advance and why should they? It’s not like they’d expect one of us to charge recklessly at this point of the battle.

But getting here wasn’t my end goal. I had a dozen feet left to travel. So I kept low and kept running. A faint bit of optimism overcame me when arriving at the base of the ridge; where the enemy should have been perched. There’s not a single gun pointed at me. The rustlers here were no longer looking in my direction, but rather occupied with what was happening amongst them.

My path was crystal clear and unguarded; just had to get to the top of the cliff.

My hope’s short lived as sporadic gunfire erupt all around me. A bullet clanged off a boulder just to my left. More men began firing and it seemed some were shooting in my general direction.

Thankfully, my men retaliate and begin firing back. Shot after shot blasts, from each side, along with the wailing of bullet punctured victims.

But still, I had no time to worry about any of this.

I had to keep running, to hope against hope that nobody here’s good enough to hit a moving target in the dead of night.

Boom! The revolver made its third blast.

I leapt over a large rock at the base of the ridge, with pistol in hand. I made it, but no to celebrate or catch my breath. Instead I have to keep moving. So I turned and scrambled up its shallow bank as fast as I could scurry.

Almost at the top.

Boom! Boom! A fourth and fifth blast erupt, only these were made by rifles, not by Jimmy’s revolver.

They were firing back at my brother!

Did they hit him?

Was I too late?

Had to get to the top to know for sure.

Only a few steps left.

At the top of the ridge I find two rustlers standing with their backs to me. Each has their rifle pointed away, towards the trees, to where Jimmy must have popped out from.

Boom! I fire my first shot without warning and hit the closest man square in the back. He flailed to the ground like a wounded animal.

The second man tried to turn, but was too slow. I had the drop on him and used this to my advantage. I fired two shots before he could even make one. He winced as each bullet made contact; the first in his shoulder and the second in his stomach.

Both are down and neither possesses a danger to me any longer.

I quickly scanned the small area, with gun still raised, desperate to seek out additional threats or find clues to prove my brothers were still breathing.

“Thank the lord almighty!” I noticed Jimmy scamper out from behind a clump of trees. He kept himself low to the ground, but headed purposefully towards the center of the camp.

“Where’s he going?” I thought as I descended the small incline. There’s no longer a single rustler standing in the area. All five have been put down; two by me and three by Jimmy. One or two appear dead, but the others have some agonizing signs of life.

“I can’t fell my legs!” A scared voice called out.

“No, please ... please no!” My heart sank as I recognized the victim. I rushed towards the pained screams.

“I can’t fell my legs!” Ben called out again, in his broken speech, this time even louder.

I dropped to my knees, beside my fallen brother; tears were welling up. Jimmy and Paul were already there, tending desperately to Benny’s needs, but shamefully, I did nothing at first for I was in shock, like a shithead; too startled to move, let alone react in any meaningful manner.

“He got hit in the stomach,” Jimmy declared all matter of fact. “Keep pressure on his wound while I make a bandage.” He started ripping frantically at his shirt. “Buck! Snap out of it! For fuck sakes! Put pressure on his goddamn wound!”

I barely remember anything in that moment, only the sight of Benny, bleeding out, on the ground. It was too much for me and sadly, it was my entire fault. I was too slow, hadn’t run fast enough, and the rustlers got off a couple shots.

I wasn’t there when Benny needed me most and the sight of him, in pain and agony, twisting and shouting in fear, will be forever etched in my memory. I wanted to take the pain from him, to ease his burden, to bare the bullet wound for him, yet I wasn’t able to. This was a cross Benny had to carry all on his own and there was nothing for me to do except hold his hand and put pressure on his abdomen.

So that’s what I finally did.

I placed my right hand over Ben’s stomach and used my palm as a flow stopper. But there’s too much blood. It oozed endlessly; so warm, so thick, so sticky. I felt fluids gushing between my reddened fingers, so I placed my left hand over the hole as well.

“Hold on Benny,” I managed to say as my youngest brother stared back at me with eyes wide as saucers, full of dread.

“I can’t fell my legs Buck!” he panics.

“I know, Benny,” I fight back my own tears, knowing I have to be strong for his sake. He doesn’t need me being all emotional and shit. I have to keep him calm; to keep him alive, not breaking down into womanly sobs of my own. “It’s going to be okay,” I lie, knowing there’s not a doctor for days and our medical supplies are limited at best. “You just have to hold on Benny. Be strong. We’re going to take good care of you. It’s going to be okay little brother.”

Benny nodded back at me and, in that moment, he somehow found his strength. He suddenly stopped screaming and thrashing about. Instead he lay, perfectly still, with his head back on the dusty ground and displayed a sense of calm; completely unexpected and almost out of place. It showed in his eyes and in his fresh demeanour. He pushed back his own tears and relaxed his body just a bit.

I think he figured out how to let go of his fear by putting his faith in us, his family who loved him most. He trusted us to keep him alive and there’s no way, in hell, we’d let him down.

Or so I hoped.

Somehow, though exhausted, I keep putting one foot in front of the other as I slowly make my way along the long dusty road that, I’m hoping, will lead me straight into town where supplies and allies should await. However, if I’m being honest, I’m not really confident in my path as I’m not even sure it’s an actual road, let alone the one I want it to be. Everything is fucked up, including the surrounding landscape. It’s impossible to know what’s what nowadays. All around me, everything is barren and scorched, and to make matters worse, the fog is so thick hardly any moonlight can penetrate it.

It’s so bad that I could easily walk straight off a cliff and never see it coming as I can barely see three feet in front of me.

I had hoped my farmland was the only place affected by the Rapture but things surely are no better out here; they’re just as dire. This foul curse has reached out and poisoned everything that was once good and healthy. Everywhere I look, for as far as I can see, there’s nothing but death and destruction. So I have to wonder if town will be any different. In all likelihood, the Tribulation has struck there as well, leaving it as shitty as the rest of the world seems to be.

Yet I continue to walk in that direction, as I have nowhere safer to go and no plan that’s any better.

My steps are laboured and my mouth is parched dry. Why didn’t I take some water from that house of mine? I could have at least grabbed the knife or some of Susan’s food, which was cooking on the stove.