The Western Front - Parts 1-3 (Western Front Series), Page 6

  His body ached from the awkward movements that it was not accustomed to. He alternated between trying to count the number of rounds that were fired at him and praying for at least Margaret’s life to be spared, if not his own. He leaned around the threshold and steadied his sights at the wall beside the front door. As the intruder’s rifle swung into view for a third volley, Frank unloaded all seven rounds into an area the size of a tombstone in the wall. He sighed with relief as he watched the rifle clatter to the porch.

  Thames rolled onto his side and coughed in pain. Only then did he realize he had been shot in the legs and his shoulder. Maybe he did not dive to the floor for cover, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had collapsed.

  He never saw the figure that was watching him through the kitchen window. He struggled to sit up against the wall and catch his breath, but never accomplished that final task. He never felt the high-powered rifle round as it pierced his skull and killed him instantly.

  ***

  The stranger smashed the butt of his rifle through the glass pane in the door. He reached in with a gloved hand and unlocked the dead bolt. He stepped into the kitchen in his black western boots and swaggered over to the old man. He patted his lifeless body and found the hand-rolled cigarettes in his pocket. He retrieved one and rolled it between his fingers for a moment, before lighting it. Satisfied, he stepped over Frank’s body and strolled into the living room.

  He stepped out onto the front porch and looked at the mess that lay before him. Two of his associates were lying on the porch dead and the third was spitting and coughing up blood. He removed the Beretta from his shoulder holster and rested it against the dying man’s head. The man began to sob and beg for his life, but it mattered not. The man in the black boots squeezed the trigger as if he was putting down a lame dog. The body slumped onto the porch.

  The porch creaked noisily as he walked down to the corner and peered at Jake’s house. No signs of anyone at home. The assault had turned into a full-on disaster, no question about it. He took one final drag of the cigarette and tossed it into the yard. He reckoned it was time to find the old woman and force her to open the vault. And if she refused, he would just have to kill her and open it himself. Either way, it really didn’t matter.

  He strolled back into the living room and down the hallway. His footfalls were loud on the pine floor. He let his fingernails scrape against the hallway wall as he walked. The intruder pushed the doors open with the tip of his barrel of his rifle. He casually swept the rooms, each in turn, before proceeding. The man in the black boots smirked as he reached the final door of the long hallway. He stepped inside.

  She was sitting in a rocking-chair in the far corner of the room. It had been her grandmother’s once, long ago. The craftsmanship was apparent. It was built to withstand the tests of time. The walls around her were covered with hand-made crafts of her own and her foremothers. In her lap rested a beautiful, half-finished quilt.

  She wore a baby-blue dress with a pattern of smiling, yellow chicks. She had made two others just like it for her sisters. Sometimes they would all wear their dresses while they were out together. The complements they received about the outfits from strangers always made her smile.

  The man in the black boots had forced himself into their home and killed the only man she had ever loved. He was a man who could be hard and rough because his life had been, but Frank always tried to be gentle with her. The intruder had taken the spiritual leader of their home. For the first time since she could remember, she felt rage. The man before her had destroyed her family, but she wasn’t dead yet. This was her room.

  They never exchanged words as she pulled the trigger of the snub-nosed revolver that she had concealed beneath her quilt. The muzzle blast burned the fabric. The hollow-point bullet punched through the quilt and violently tore through the man’s flesh. It fragmenting as it collided with his pelvis. He groaned in pain and took a short step back, shifting his weight to his other leg. He raised the rifle to his shoulder.

  Her arthritic hands struggled painfully to re-cock the revolver, but she was too weak. Finally, she gave up. Mrs. Thames leaned defiantly toward him, as he leveled the barrel with her chest. He fired three times. She groaned weakly, before slumping in the chair. In her final breath she saw Frank waiting with an outstretched hand, and she smiled.

  ***

  The man in the black boots cursed and coughed. Nothing was going as planned. The Thames were supposed to be at church. He sat on a nearby bench and leaned against an old wooden piano. He struggled to regain his composure. His pelvis throbbed and his pants were beginning to stain crimson. After several moments of rest, he stood and hobbled out into the hallway to try his luck with the vault.

  As he turned the corner and looked up, a giant, dark blur sailed through the air and collided against his chest. He shrieked as the beats sunk its sharp fangs deep into his cheek and then his neck. The impact sent him reeling backwards. His croaked in pain as he crashed against the floor, back in the room. His face throbbed with pain from the bites. He flailed about, searching for is rifle, but he had dropped it in the hall.

  Sasha snarled and again to ripped at the man’s face. He struggled to pry her off with his hands, but it only made her savage his gloves. He wailed as she mangled his fingers.

  The man mustered all of his remaining strength and arched back. He worked his boots under Sasha’s chest as best he could. Suddenly, he pushed as hard as he could with his legs. Sasha growled and clacked her fangs as she sailed backwards. She landed with a thud in the hall.

  With a quick motion, he spun and grabbed the bottom of the door. As he feverishly tried to push it shut, Sasha wedged her head between the door and the frame. As he held the door with both hands, he spun and kicked Sasha in the center of her face. She whimpered and stumbled backwards as the door slammed shut.

  The man in the black boots writhed on the floor in agony. He breathed in deeply as he tried to gather his resolve. He could hear the beast still in the hall, snarling and scratching at the door. He touched his face and neck to gauge the damage and immediately recoiled in horror. Bits of bloody meat hung in tatters from his cheek and throat. He crawled to the corner and grabbed an old, wooden cane that was propped against the wall. He steadied himself between the cane and the piano pulled himself to his feet. He hobbled over to Mrs. Thames and flung the quilt on the floor. He pried the revolver from her hand, before turning and making his way to the window.

  He climbed out and tumbled into the mud below. He coughed and wheezed as the hard landing expelled the air from his lungs. He weakly limped to the corner of the house to make his way back to the SUV. When he peaked around to the front, he saw a figure slowly and purposefully moving towards the house. He cursed under his breath and recoiled. He was in no shape for another gun battle. The man aimed for the deep swamp beyond the Thames’ pasture.

  Cha pter 8

  Jake

  West Mississippi

  Jake didn’t notice the bodies on the front porch until he had already pressed himself against the wall of the house. They were hidden from the view of the ditch and he had been focused on the windows. He cursed himself for not noticing sooner. He carefully climbed onto the porch and slowly moved along the wall, just like Geram had instructed. He ducked under the windows and planned his steps purposefully to avoid making any errant noises. Jake could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He did not have the combat experience of his brother, so he had to focus very hard to remain calm.

  As he reached a point on the wall several feet from the door, he pressed his back against it and listened for any sounds from within the house. He heard nothing. He wanted to rush in and search for Frank, but instead he waited for his brother.

  He watched as Geram drifted like a ghost towards him. Jake was amazed at how he moved within the shadows. At times he would catch a glimpse, only for Geram to disappear. Knowing his rear was covered, Jake rolled to face the door, and any tro
uble that may be coming their way.

  Jake stared at the three bodies that lay at his feet. Someone, most likely Frank, had done quite well. He hoped against hope that Frank was still inside somewhere, perhaps tending to a superficial wound. He knew the odds were against his old friend, but he refused to entertain any other thoughts. He noted the military-style weaponry the men had carried and thought of the old lever gun that Frank had likely used. He was amazed at the damage the old man had managed to inflict.

  Jake was momentarily startled by the tap on his left shoulder before realizing it was his brother. Geram leaned in close and whispered softly, “Swing right, whenever you’re ready.”

  Jake crouched low. He felt Geram lean in and steady his pistol over Jake’s left shoulder. Geram had slung his rifle across his back. The scope would be useless in the confined space of the house. Jake counted to three, rolled around the door frame, into the living room. He panned to the right, searching for threats. Geram swung left immediately behind him. They moved through the doorway as if they were but one.

  Jake stayed low as they moved through the living room, past the large stone fireplace and towards the kitchen. Geram followed closely behind as he fixed his pistol on the hallway to their right. They stopped for a moment along the interior wall that separated the living room and kitchen. Jake noted the bullet holes that riddled the wall around them. He tilted his head back and mouthed, “Frank”, and then motioned with his head towards the kitchen.

  Geram nodded and considered the situation. If they called out and revealed themselves, they would be compromised. If they did not, and Frank was in the kitchen, either he or they could be shot. Neither scenario was desirable. Geram looked down at Jake and shook his head no. They had to take their chances with the kitchen.

  As they swept into the room, Jake’s heart sunk. He saw Frank’s body surrounded by a crimson pool. He dropped to one knee and placed his hand on Frank’s shoulder. Jake knew from the head wound that Frank had died immediately. Geram grabbed Jake by the collar and pulled him back to his feet. He shook his head no again and pointed to the rest of the house. They had to ensure their own safety. It was no time for mourning, not yet.

  Once they were back in the living room, they prepared to perform the same clearing maneuver into the hallway. As they readied themselves for the motion, they heard a low growl coming from the hall. It grew louder as the beast bounded towards them. They could hear the echo of its claws scratching against the wood flooring. Jake held up his fist to Geram as if to say, ‘Hold!. He hoped it was indeed Sasha. They slowly backed away from the threshold to give themselves some standoff room. Jake crouched low.

  As Sasha emerged from the hall, her fierce growl was replaced with a high-pitched whine. She sprung at Jake and knocked him off balance. He landed on his back with a gentle thud. As she licked his face and neck, Jake forgot about Frank for a brief moment and smiled with relief.

  Geram walked over and dropped to one knee to rub her head. He whispered to Jake, “If she was in that hall, I doubt there’s anyone left in this house. We should still be careful, though. Can you make her stay here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, let’s finish this.”

  Jake whispered a command in Czech to Sasha and she plopped down on her haunches and stared at the front door, waiting patiently for her next order. The men stood up and once again prepared to clear the remainder of the house. In one fluid motion they cleared the hall. They continued to each room, until they were at the final door. They noticed Sasha had clawed deep into the bottom of the door.

  Jake grasped the knob as quietly as possible and turned it slowly. He held it in position until they were ready to rush the room. He shouldered into the door and pushed it open. Again, he swung right and Geram left. Immediately he saw her body. His heart broke as his worst fears were realized. He gently laid her body out on the floor and covered it with the quilt.

  Geram dropped down to one knee and whispered, “Bro, I’m so sorry for all of this; Frank and Mrs. Thames. I can’t imagine the loss you’re feeling, but whoever did this is still alive. Look at the window.”

  He pointed his pistol at the window. The flashlight illuminated the broken glass and streaks of blood. Jake shouted another command in Czech and Sasha bounded into the room. He spoke again and she bolted to the window and inhaled the scent. She turned, rushed out of the room and down the hall. The men readied their weapons and chased after her.

  As the three burst out of the house, they were met by Levi and Eli Richardson on horseback. The twins had been nervously waiting in the heavy rain for Jake and Geram. Levi called out to the brothers, “How bad is it?”

  Jake order Sasha to stop and then responded, “They’re both gone, Levi.”

  “God help us. What about the men that did this?”

  “We think at least one of them is still alive, maybe more. They went out the back window. We’re going after them.”

  “We’re right behind you, lead the way.”

  Jake once again called out to Sasha, and she continued around to the back of the house. As she reached the shattered back window, she planted her nose in the mud and blood where the intruder had fallen. She growled menacingly and followed the trail towards the northern woods line.

  Levi and Eli dismounted at the first barbed wire fence, leaving their horses to search for shelter from the storm as the men continued onward. Sasha was nearly twenty feet ahead of the men, her pace quickening as the blood became more abundant. At the second fence, the men found a snub-nosed revolver lying in the mud. Eli knelt and grabbed the small handgun, before burying it in the oversized pocket of his raincoat. Levi stepped on the middle, barbed-wire strand with his boot and pushed down hard. He grabbed the top strand and lifted up, allowing the other men to duck through the fence.

  The rain was falling at a sharp angle as the winds swirled around the men. Lightning struck somewhere behind them and the boom of thunder followed immediately after. They could hear the horses’ nervous whinnies somewhere in the night. The few trees in the field, leafless and bare, looked like gnarled claws in the flashes of lightning.

  The men’s boots sloshed against the saturated ground. Their hair was matted to their foreheads and their clothing clung to their drenched bodies. Suddenly, up ahead, Sasha stopped abruptly. Her growl intensified as she circled a heap in the field just beyond. Geram crouched and peered through the lens of the night-vision scope. After a moment, he motioned the others ahead.

  Jake made it to Sasha first. He rubbed her head and whispered, “Good girl. Good girl,” before stepping past her and standing over the man’s body.

  Eli was right behind Jake. He dropped down in the mud and checked the man’s pulse. “He’s still alive,” he croaked.

  “Good.” Jake struck the man’s ribs with his boot with all of the strength he could muster. The man groaned and coughed as he curled up to protect himself from a second blow.

  “Jake! You can’t do that!”

  “Why not? Isn’t this the least that he deserves?” Jake struck the man as hard as he could again.

  “Jake! Enough!” Levi wrapped his thick bicep around Jake’s throat and dragged him away from the man, “That’s not how we do it, Jake. You know that. We’re not like him.”

  Eli rolled the man over on his back and exclaimed, “Damn, look at his face – what did that?”

  Geram walked up behind the three men and offered, “Probably Sasha. She was in the house when we got there. Lord, she got him good.”

  The man’s face was barely recognizable, but Eli leaned in close with his flashlight nonetheless. He studied the features for a moment before whispering, “It can’t be.”

  “What? Who is it?” his brother replied.

  “This is Sam Coleman, from across the creek. He has the orchard over on Smithtown Road. He must have known that church was tonight and thought we would all be away. He – he looks pretty bad. He’s lost a lot of blood. I’m not sure he’ll make it.”

  �
�Good,” Jake replied, “Let him die.”

  ***

  Sam Coleman died not long after they found him. The Richardson twins carried Sam out of the field and laid his body across the back of Eli’s horse. They carried him to the Thames’ front porch and left him with the other bodies. Mr. Richardson had already sent notice to the sheriff, and he had promised to be by in the next day or so. He was on the other side of the county investigating yet another home invasion that had gone awry.

  Jake and Geram shook hands and exchanged farewells with the twins before leaving for Jake’s house. As they walked back home Jake finally broke the silence.

  “I’m sorry about how I reacted back there. It was out of my character.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology. I probably would’ve done much worse.”

  “Maybe I don’t, but I still feel the need.”

  “Look brother, I know this is new for you. You’re doing a lot better than I did my first time. I know the full weight of it hasn’t come to bear yet, but it will, and you’ll find some way to cope. The important thing is you’ve realized your mistakes. That man, Sam, he lost his direction. A year ago, if you would’ve told him he’d be dead in a field because he attacked one his neighbors, he probably would’ve swung at you.”

  “I thought it’d be different here. I thought people would stand by each other.”

  “I don’t know if anywhere is safe anymore.”

  “We can’t stay, not anymore. This is going to hit everyone hard. Trust’ll be lost. We might as well be on our own.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Three days. For three days we’ll try and get some rest and gather as many supplies as we can. We’ll pay our respects, have a service. After that, we leave.”