Chapter 9: Sunday, November 18th, 2012 - 12:30 PM

The last two and a half hours had been incredibly tense and Rob's nerves were stretched to the breaking point. They could hear the thugs talking and laughing and continued lewd comments about the 'state of higher learning' at the local high school. His anger at the atrocities he could overhear that were being committed continued to rise. Learning that young boys were also star participants in the games these animals were playing made him angrier. The look on his 13 year old son's face went from terror to anger to embarrassment and back to terror. Rob just couldn't take any more.

"Jimmy," Rob whispered quietly. "Do you still have that .22 pistol in your pack?"

Jimmy nodded questioningly. He only kept the pistol for target practice and for sentimental reasons. His dad gave him the pistol as a birthday present when he was ten. It was his first pistol. Jimmy had packed it but didn't have it out and ready because he didn't think it would be of any use. They had needed heavier calibers to shoot their way out of Phoenix.

Rob pulled Susan's and Jimmy's head close so he could whisper in their ears. "We need to get out of here," he whispered. "We can't shoot them with the .357's because anyone can hear those things all the way back to Phoenix. The AR-15 is quieter but still too loud. The .22 isn't loud enough for the sound to carry any distance so I need to shoot them with that. I need to get close to do it though."

They both nodded that they understood and Jimmy carefully turned to pull the pistol and a box of shells from his pack. He was scared. He had been scared since they left the house yesterday morning and he didn't see how anything could be right again. He had killed a man. More than one he was pretty sure but only one that he knew it was his bullet that killed him. He had seen the surprise, or was it terror, on the man's face. He handed the pistol and shells to his dad. He was scared for his dad too. He knew it was going to be dangerous getting close enough to shoot them with the little weapon.

"Dad," Jimmy whispered. "The 15 doesn't make very much noise. Wouldn't it be safer to use them? They are pretty much inside the shed so the sound won't go far."

Rob hesitated only a moment and shook his head. "You are probably right but we just can't take a chance on anyone hearing," he whispered to his son. "I have got to get you and your mom away from here and to the property and I can't lead these men to the property."

"At least let mom or I back you up with the 15," Jimmy pleaded.

Rob had to smile at the intensity in the 13 year old boy's voice. Then his smile faded. Maybe he wasn't 13 any longer. He had seen and endured a lot more than he had at that age. Rob thought of all the 13 year olds that had needed to grow up fast over the last few days, or wouldn't get a chance to grow up at all.

He snapped out of reverie when he heard, "Ray, I've gotta piss."

"Well, go piss then. What do you want me to do? Hold it for you," Ray answered.

"I was trying to hold it until we got back to the school. I read a story once about piss games and making someone drink your piss and was going to try it," the first jerk said.

"Well, good luck with that. We have two more hours out here. Can you hold it that long," Ray asked laughing?

"No, guess not." Then Rob could almost hear him grinning when he said, "Just give me an excuse to drink a bunch more beer so I can piss again."

Rob quickly worked the slide to jack a shell into the chamber of the little .22.

Rob quietly opened his door and eased out of the F-250. He thought for a moment then turned toward the right side of the shed. Most people turn right towards their dominant side unless there is a reason to turn left. He started to ease that direction when he heard a tap on the truck window. Jimmy was franticly pointing the other direction.

Rob turned and tried to be quiet going towards the left hand corner of the shed. His heart was in his throat. He rounded the front fender of the F-250 and crept towards the corner of the shed in a crouched shooters stance. He almost reached the corner when he heard a footfall just around the corner. He stopped and could hear the sound of a zipper. After a moment a yellowish stream arced past the corner and splashed on the sun baked ground.

"The guy really did need to piss," Rob thought with one corner of his mind. The stream just kept up. He was trying to pick the moment when he stepped around the corner and shot the man. He hadn't had a problem shooting when in the heat of battle but he had never purposely stalked and killed a man. He remembered the comments coming over the radio and the advice about which room had the tightest girls. He remembered the comments about the young boys that had been captured and how they are being used. His jaw tightened. That would not happen to his family.