James Hunt - Broken Ties

“I’ll pull, you shoot,” Nelson said.

Nelson grabbed Ray by his shoulders and pulled him through the dirt toward the trees. Ken appeared in the doorway, and Ray squeezed a few rounds off.

The kitchen window’s glass shattered, and Ken shoved his rifle through the opening, firing shots in their direction.

Nelson gave one last heave and pulled both he and Ray behind a tree, shielding themselves from the barrage of bullets splintering the oak’s trunk.

Ray kept reaching for his leg, wincing. When Nelson tried to adjust the splint, Ray screamed and smacked his hand away.

“Sorry,” Nelson said.

Ray’s breath was labored. Nelson didn’t know what to do. There was no way he could drag Ray through the woods, not in the condition he was in.

“Just go,” Ray said.

“What?”

“I’ll hold him off as long as I can.”

“Ray, I’m not going to leave you here.”

“If you don’t go and warn Mike, then his family’s going to die, if they haven’t killed them already.”

Ray pushed Nelson backward, pointing for him to run. Another spray of bullets peppered the tree behind them.

“You’re not being a coward for leaving me here, Nelson. This is my choice. Now, go,” Ray said.

Nelson grabbed Ray’s hand and squeezed tight.

“Good luck,” Nelson said.

“You, too.”

Ray gave Nelson some cover fire as he disappeared deeper into the woods then checked the revolver, seeing how many bullets he had left.

Two.

He knew his fate the moment he chose to stay behind. Ken had an unlimited supply of ammo within an arm’s reach, and Ray couldn’t hobble more than a few feet without crashing to the ground. He was a sitting duck.

“Hey!” Ray shouted.

The firing ceased. Ray pushed himself off the ground with his good leg, using the tree trunk to help give him leverage. His leg felt like it was going to explode.

“You go back on your deals that quick?” Ray asked.

Gunfire blasted the tree again. Ray ducked, trying to shield himself from the ricochet.

“Guess so,” Ray mumbled.

After a moment, everything was silent. Ray aimed the pistol at the cabin, switching targets between the door and the kitchen window, but he couldn’t see Ken.

“Drop it,” Ken said.

Ray froze. The pistol hit the ground and he put his hands in the air.

“Where’d he go?” Ken asked.

Ray said nothing. He wouldn’t let his last breaths in life betray the people who helped him.

“You think I’m a bad man, don’t you?” Ken asked.

“I think you’re a coward.”

Ken laughed.

“You people. In all of your self-righteous bullshit you think that the act of sacrifice is so noble, that we should all elevate ourselves to your level. Well, this is what you get for your noble deeds.”

The barrel of the gun pressed firmly against Ray’s forehead. It was hot, burning a circle into his skin. Ray didn’t move; whatever pain Ken would put him through he wasn’t going to give him any satisfaction of showing that he was hurting.

“Surviving without a soul isn’t living,” Ray said.

“Neither is having a bullet in your brain.”

Ken squeezed the trigger, and Ray’s body hit the ground.

Mike wheezed; the pain in his side was sharp. He stood above his father’s body. There were bits of bone and splashes of blood strewn around Ulysses’s head where the bullet entered and left.

The gun Ulysses used on himself lay by his side. His eyes were still open, staring up into the night sky.

Nothing seemed real at that moment. This town Mike was in couldn’t exist. That wasn’t his father dead on the ground. This wasn’t his broken body he was trapped in. That wasn’t his daughter who was almost beaten to death. This wasn’t his life.

“Mike?” Sam asked.

The graveyard where his mother was buried had an empty spot right next to her. That’s where his father should be right now. He wanted to take him home, away from this hell he died in.

“Mike, we need to get you checked out. Your daughter’s over at the pharmacy,” Sam said.

“What?”

“Your daughter.”

“Right.”

He couldn’t dwell on the pain he was feeling now. His daughter was still alive. He still had a family to protect. He still had a job to do.

The town felt quiet after the gunfight. There wasn’t any motion in the town now. At one point in time this place was filled with people enjoying their lives, people with a purpose.

When the biker gang came through, all of that was replaced with fear and death. Now that the bikers were gone, the town was filled with neither fear nor purpose. It was just there, a shell of what it used to be, frozen in time.

Mike’s Jeep was still flipped on its side. On the sidewalk next to it Jung rocked Jenna back and forth in his arms. Mike could see the pain on his face, and when he thought to himself that whatever pain Jung received was justified, he felt no guilt.

Most of the pharmacy was barren. The bikers had come through like locusts, pillaging the stores, stealing supplies, destroying what they wanted.

Kalen sifted through the bottles and supplies thrown on the ground. When Mike walked in, she turned around.

The only thing worse than seeing his daughter beaten and bloody was the knowledge of what she had seen. He knew the bruises would fade, the bones would mend, and the wounds would close, but the violence she’d been exposed to, witnessing evil in its most terrible forms and letting it become a part of you… that was a scar that would leave its mark for a very, very long time.

Mike picked up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a bag of cotton balls. He led Kalen over to the counter. She hopped on top of it. Mike dumped some of the peroxide onto the cotton ball.

Kalen winced when the peroxide made contact. Mike ran the cotton ball gently along the cuts on her face.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Kalen said.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Grandpa’s dead, you’re hurt, everyone is hurt. I shouldn’t have come here. It was stupid.”

Mike knew whatever words left his mouth now would have a deciding factor in the type of life his daughter would have moving forward. He knew the guilt she was feeling. It was a guilt that could consume her life, send her into a spiral that she wouldn’t be able to come out of.

“You came here because of what these people did. You stood up to those who tried to hurt you and the people you care about,” Mike said.

“Your dad’s right,” Mary said.

Mike hadn’t seen her when he entered. He couldn’t make out the features on her face, but the tone of her voice made her sound older than she was.

“Whatever we lost today, we gained more by not having that gang here anymore. All of them deserved to die,” Mary said.

“When someone pushes you to the brink of killing, when it comes down to your survival or the survival of your family, then you do what you have to do,” Mike said. “No repentance.”

Kalen nodded and leaned into his chest. He hoped the words reached her. It would take time, he knew that, for her to accept it, but he wanted it to be sooner rather than later.

Sam helped patch them up as best he could. Most of the injuries would heal over time. When Sam checked Mike out he agreed that one of the ribs punctured a lung, but only time would tell how bad it really was.

Jung was still on the sidewalk, his children on either side of him. His kids were crying, but he wasn’t.

Mike wanted to hurt him, even more than the pain he was going through right now. All of those talks Mike had with Jung about trusting people, about having faith, were all erased by what he did.