Matthew Mark - Dark Days Rough Roads

He entered the house and moved at a snails pace, his .40 ready. He was in the large kitchen and slowly went down the hall, checking the rooms as he went. He found one closed and made a note of it. He made it to the front of the house and stopped by the living room. He saw two figures, one in a chair, and one on the couch lying down.

The woman was on the couch and Lance was sitting in his chair. He had a bottle of whiskey by him. Haliday looked over at the woman, who was motionless. He watched Lance for a couple of minutes. Finally Haliday spoke. “Lance, what happened?”

Lance didn’t turn around. He just spoke, “She’s dead.”

“Who’s dead, Lance?”

He pointed to the couch.

“Is that your daughter, Lance?”

“No, that’s my wife. I shot her.” He said it with no emotion at all.

“Lance, you don’t look like you’re tied up in this crap. I mean, it looks like you’ve been here in that chair all night.” Lance didn’t speak. Haliday moved a bit closer with his pistol still aimed at the back of Lance’s head. He spotted the picture in Lance’s hand. It was his daughter’s graduation picture. On the table in front of Lance was an opened bottle of pills.

Haliday moved over to the couch and dropped one hand down and confirmed the lady was dead. On the floor in front of Lance he saw a pistol laying there. He also saw an empty pill bottle on the floor. Lance looked at him. “She did it Roger, I told her to mind her business, to tell Nicole to get the hell out of that cult or whatever the hell it is. She wouldn’t listen. Neither of them would. I begged them both. My wife thought it was a good idea, broaden Nicole’s horizons. I didn’t think they would go this far.”

“Lance, where’s your daughter?”

“She’s in the bedroom. I put her to sleep in there.” Lance picked up the bottle of pills from the coffee table and emptied them into his mouth and washed them down with whiskey. He drank quite a few more swigs after that. “Roger, can you do me a favor?”

“What’s that, Lance?”

“Bury my daughter for me. She deserves it. She didn’t know any better. She was young, in love and caught up in a fantasy. They left her out there laying on the ground. My wife almost didn’t seem to care.”

“I don’t care about my wife, or even me, but you’re a father. You understand. She always liked the tree house I built her. That would be nice over there. I’m sorry Roger, I really am.”

Roger walked up, “I promise Lance, I’ll do that for you.” Haliday slowly retreated keeping his guard up. He heard the whiskey bottle drop and shatter. He continued on. He checked the closed room on his way out.

He passed through the kitchen and looked at the table closely. There were hand drawn maps of his property and everything surrounding it. He reached down and grabbed them all. This lady had been spying on them since he bought the place. She had the aerial photos and drawings of the place before the cabin even went up. The pile was a good two inches thick.

He looked at the notes and had figured just as much. She had started from the moment the group set foot on the property. She had the days and times written down and everything that happened, everything they did. She had it marked when he and Blake had returned as well. Every move they made. It was like a journal though: I saw, I noticed, I think. Poor Lance was mere labor around here it seemed like. Never knew what was coming.

He walked back toward his house slowly and solemnly. Nothing he could have done would have prevented this. She had his number from the beginning and even if he would have shot her on day one, the militia knew everything already. He would return tomorrow and bury them as promised. He reached the house. “What happened over there?” Bev asked. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. It was done already,” he said.

The militia convoy was on its way back. Rob and Brad had everyone in position. The plan was put together rather quickly, but since they had learned from Haliday that conventional fighting was not an option and guerilla warfare was the only option, that’s what they decided to do.

As word had spread over the past couple of days about the militia getting whittled away, the townspeople managed to get a few more people to join the cause. This was their fight and their fight for their own survival. Nobody would be riding in like the cavalry and saving the day. Any chance they would have of surviving started with this fight and those involved in the community had to do it.

The militia convoy was coming through the small town now. They were tired, worn, had taken severe losses and wanted to get back to the airport. Thirty one people had left the compound and nine were now dead and six injured. Three of the injured would most likely die within the next couple of days. This didn’t include the observer, who had been Haliday’s neighbor.

In order to take the wounded back, they had left behind two of the quads. The Jeep was left in the ditch as well. They were certain Haliday’s group would certainly take them as their own. The Jeep was the biggest loss as far as the vehicles were concerned. The guy who owned it had about 50 grand worth of work done to it. Lift kit, run flat tire system, radio, extra roll bars, snorkel kit and more. Haliday had seen it and said it looked like a JC Whitney catalog exploded.

The convoy was getting ready to make a right hand turn down a small street full of houses that would lead them to the main gate of the airport. The lead vehicle made the turn and got about 200 feet down the road when four people on each side of the road pushed some vehicles down the driveways of the houses where they had been waiting.

The vehicles rolled down the drives and met in the street blocking the access. The militia vehicle had hit the brakes as soon as they saw them move. The convoy only had about 50 feet between the vehicles and three more had made the turn. They were all trying to back up now. The man on the lone motorcycle went across the lawns and made a run for the airport’s main gate and made it.

The militia called the airport for help but were told negative. They couldn’t put any more members in danger right now. The vehicles started to split up. They moved in different directions. They could cut through the surrounding neighborhood and eventually get to the airport provided they didn’t run into too many problems.

One of the pickup trucks that had not made the right hand turn shot straight ahead instead. Only 150 feet down the road, they ran over two of the stop sticks the townspeople had made and the tires went flat immediately. The truck tried to keep moving but the shredded tires and rims on the road made it hard.

They stopped the truck and both occupants jumped out. They started running south. The airport was about a quarter of a mile away and they would try to get there on foot. They crossed through some yards and then into an open area with homes on both sides, and continued moving. They were hesitant and sensed an ambush.

No sooner had they turned to look for cover when eight of the townspeople started firing on them. The townspeople had unleashed a volley of over 100 shots fired. The men had never stood a chance as the rounds hit them and they fell lifeless to the ground. The townspeople moved in and took the weapons and ammo from the men.

The deuce had been second in line. After it had backed up, it moved forward again quickly and rammed the two vehicles. It barely made it through them and it continued toward the gate. All of their injured were in the back. The driver did not hesitate; he just kept right on going. If the vehicles used to block the road hadn’t been in neutral, it would have been a different story.