M. Banner - Stone Age

With the icy conviction of a killer, not even flinching from the noise behind him, Chaco said with a sneer, “Don’t feel too rested, Señor Max. We going to see El Hefe now.”

“El Hefe here? He is in in Rocky Point?” Max begged with a worried voice.

“No, Señor Max, we go to da rancho del El Hefe.”

The front door opened noisily, and another of El Gordo’s men sauntered in with the leisurely gate of a homeowner walking into his own front entrance, the assault rifle slung around his neck breaking this illusion. He said something quickly and unintelligible to Chaco in Spanish, who had turned away from Max for just a moment.

Turning back to Max, “We go in your car, because ours no work. Let’s go now. El Hefe want you talk now,” he said pointing to the front door. “And no one else comes. If we see anyone follow, your friends not be happy with result. Tu comprendo?”

Max shook his head in agreement and then turned to Lisa and Sally, “Bill is up on my other house roof. Lisa, you’ll need to support him, because I made him do something to protect you both. Stay here and wait for him. When you see him, tell him what happened to me and I don’t want any of you to follow. I’ll come back, although it might be in a few days. Tell Bill to use the key he has to my office. Tell him to grab the book under my desk. You’ll both need to read what’s in there.” When he saw the questioning look of Lisa, he finished, “It’s alright, he’ll understand. You’ll all be fine now, I made sure of it.”

Sally leaped up and in a desperate attempt to keep him from going, threw her arms around Max. “Uncle Max, please, you can’t leave. We’re so scared.”

“You’ll both be fine.” If I don’t return in a few days, don’t worry, it’s probably just my jeep or what’s going on around us.”

He released Sally with a kiss on her cheek and kissed Lisa goodbye on her cheek as well. He walked to the front door accompanied by El Gordo’s goons, one on each side.

“Remember the book,” Max offered as he walked out, back into the heat of the day, then looking up to see if he could see his friend.

Bill looked again through the eyepiece to confirm he had killed the leader and that all his men ran off. One man stood composed, unmoving and staring in his direction, although Bill knew there was no way he could be seen from this direction without the aid of a powerful scope like this one. The men around this one confident looking man were either cowering in fear or had already run off. One other, the leader he shot, lay prone and unmoving in a growing pool of his own gore.

The confident man forced a grin right at Bill, as if saying I’ve got your number, buddy . For the third time today, Bill felt a chill down his sweat soaked back. Then the man turned, putting his back to Bill, readjusted his gun and walked away. The cowering men slinked after him.

Bill grabbed the cannon and ran to the front of the terrace, cycling another round into the chamber. He desperately needed to see what happened to his wife and daughter, and to Max. Just as he looked down, resting the barrel of the cannon on the lip of the wall’s edge, two men were walking Max out his front door. He was done shooting people for the day, and didn’t want Max’s encouragement to save him, not yet holding the weapon up to fire.

Max was already looking up and staring at Bill. Bill looked at him expectedly, fearful Max wanted him to shoot these two men, and held up a free hand, palm up, asking, what should I do? Max held his two palms at Bill and shook his head as if to answer no . Bill watched him walk to his Jeep, parked outside in front of the garage. They got in, Max in the driver’s seat, it started, and they drove away.

Not wanting anything more to do with the rifle, Bill let go of it, leaving it on the shelf protected by the wall. He bounded downstairs, out the door, fumbling with his lanyard and key, trying to lock it as instructed. Now frantic for news about his wife and daughter, he galloped to his house. He felt exposed, as if another dozen or so mass murderers with riles were going to rush into the street with guns blaring. His paranoia was thankfully just that.

When he was about to cross the front door threshold, he yelled out their names, “Lisa? Sally? Where are you?” He was half way down the hallway when four outstretched arms embraced him, squeezing him very hard. Like a blanket, their embrace and tears covered them with warmth and peace.

Lisa and Sally unleashed a fusillade of colorful descriptions of the preceding minutes. Bill said very little, holding tightly to what he had to do. For their part, Lisa and Sally never let on that they knew he had done something unsavory, and never asked. When they got to the part of Max’s abduction, surrender, and then Max’s final request, Bill jumped in, “Wait, he wanted to go with them?”

“They were quite insistent,” Sally answered, “But, it looked to me like he knew these people. They certainly knew Uncle Max.”

“Do you know what he meant about the book?” Lisa chimed in, having calmed down considerably, her curiosity now getting to her.

“No, I have no idea. Although, he did tell me he planned to give us lots of detail about his plans for us, but he certainly couldn’t have known about leaving us. Let’s go find out.”

Lisa looked past Bill to the dead man hanging out their dining room window, “How do we know they are all gone?” she finished, motioning with her head in the dead man’s direction. Her question felt surreal, as if she was asking how the china looked on the table of their dining room, when it was in fact a dead man resting in their window .

Bill turned, and stepped back, his mind catching up with his eyes. That explains one of the gunshots .

“I think there’s another outside the window,” Sally offered.

And that explains the second gunshot he heard . Bill’s mind ran through the events.

“Max seemed pretty sure that the others would run aw… that there would be no more, than those two.”

A few minutes later, after more hugs and a little more sharing of today’s events, Bill pushed the dead man through their window; the blast had done most of the work for him. Surprisingly, there was almost no blood in the house. All of the gore was on their windowsill, and outside.

The three of them, holding hands for comfort and protection, walked out back toward Max’s home, gingerly stepping around the dead birds that littered their yard, then around a greater number in Max’s yard. None of them questioned this, their senses numb from what they had already witnessed. Bill led, walking them through Max’s patio doors and towards the bookcase.

Lisa, bringing up the rear and letting go of their hand-holding chain, stopped and studied the small desk to their right, “Is that the desk Max talked about? Look, here is the book,” she said, holding up the book Max had overtly placed below the desk earlier.

She opened it so that all three could see, not waiting for a reply. It said in hurried script, “Sorry, wrong book.”

“No, it must be in his office,” Bill said reaching up to the top shelves of the wood bookcase.

“What office?” Sally asked.

“I have to go pee,” Danny said meekly, interrupting Darla’s quite slumber.

She rubbed her eyes, and brushed some of her long hair behind her right shoulder, then stretched a little, working out the tightness in her leg from sleeping in one position for such a long time in their car.

“I really have to go,” now with more urgency.

“I heard you, kiddo,” Darla said as she opened the door to let in the sound of crickets and the heat of the day. “Why don’t you go there?” She asked, pointing at an area where the parking lot ended at a fence, protecting some heavily weeded field belonging to O’Hare.