Authors: Phoenix Williams
He was scared.
The more time he
was allowed to invent more and more ideas, the more it worried him
and made him shiver much more than the frigid morning air. Even if he
had to, he didn't believe he had the heart to shoot back at the
trespassers.
This is not good,
he thought.
What did they want
anyway? Could someone really break onto his property and risk being
arrested or even shot simply to pray at the miracle? No. Only one
explanation remained in the old rancher's head.
They were here to
steal or harm my property,
he decided.
Tim's outrage
started building up and converted most of his fear into fury. He was
shaking even more now, thinking of dark desires he wished to enact.
Determined, he breathed deep breaths. A lot of focus was put into
calming himself down and ceasing the trembling. He waited until he
was steady and then he pulled the rifle back. Staring down down the
sights, he watched.
He really might
have shot, too, if the scene hadn't changed pace so suddenly.
Two of the
intruders seemed to be busy with some equipment that they had brought
in with a duffle bag. Tim could hear the clanging of crowbars and
metal objects coming from them, but he didn't watch those two.
Instead, he watched the third one who lingered in the back. Standing
upright, the lone intruder stared into the angel. Curiously, he
reached out and touched the metal.
Everyone jumped
when the man released a bloodcurdling scream. Tim dropped down as
fast as he could, seeking cover. The screaming man's friends turned
to stare at the scene that the rancher peeked over the railing to
watch. The victim's hand was gone, now just open space against a
smoking stump of arm. From where he watched, Tim could see no blood.
The wound must have been cauterized instantly. Instead of rushing
over to help their one-handed friend who had now fallen to his knees
and wailed, the two handling the equipment started looking around.
They thought they were being attacked.
One of the
trespassers locked eyes with the hidden rancher.
Both pairs of their
eyes shot wide open. The second intruder followed his accomplice's
vision and spotted Tim, too. In just a fraction of a moment, all
three of them exploded into motion. As he watched them both pull out
handguns from their belt line, Tim dove backwards down the stairs. He
couldn't see them anymore. He couldn't hear them either. All that
resonated in his ears was the draw and release of his own frantic
breath. Maybe they hadn't seen him. Deep inside, Tim knew that wasn't
true. That meant that they were waiting for him or they were flanking
him. Either way, he couldn't stay there.
With a long pull of
air, Tim dashed back up the stairs and along the ramparts until he
found a pile of cement bags to dive behind. As he ran, he heard it.
One crack, like lightning. Then two. Part of the wall behind Tim
ripped open and spewed dust. The two intruders opened fire. The shots
drowned out any possibility of silence. They shot almost in beat with
the pulse of Tim's terrified heartbeat. His senses were overwhelmed.
His body actually shook too hard to move. Streaming puffs of cement
dust popped out from above and around him. Then there was a break in
the firefight. Tim leapt up from his cover, raised his rifle to his
shoulder, and opened fire.
His breathing was
paced and deliberate. He inhaled as soon as his gun stopped exploding
with recoil and then exhaled just before squeezing the trigger. One
of the intruders finished reloading and continued firing at the
rancher. Expecting Tim to dive back behind cover, the gunman missed
with his barrage of lead as Tim strafed slowly to his left. Bullets
missed him and exploded into the the support beams behind him as he
maintained his breathing. He squeezed off round after round.
The intruder who
had difficulty reloading his handgun dove to the ground when Tim
shifted his aim from the other intruder to him. A thick and sturdy
support beam appeared in the rancher's peripherals as soon as he had
run out of ammunition in his gun, behind which he cowered. The shots
were sparse now. The intruders were running low on bullets
themselves. Tim heard plenty of movement from below once the shooting
ceased. He peeked out and watched the one and only standing intruder
dash behind cover and out of the property. Tim tried to shoot after
him but remembered his gun was empty.
“Where're you
going?!” Tim screamed after the fleeing intruder. Fury shook
his body as he yelled. He had won. He stood his ground and had made
his enemy flee in fear. When he thought his body almost couldn't
contain the primal rage that boiled up in his blood, he roared. He
let loose a cry packed and shipped with all the bestial anger he
could feel. With this, the intruder retreated faster.
Tim's eyes locked
on the running man for as long as they could separate him from the
blackness his the surroundings. He made his way down the stairs,
holding his gun up at the hip toward the two forms on the ground. The
man by the angel moaned and cried in pure agony, sounds that the
rancher ignored as he came up to the prone shooter. His handgun
glinted in the starlight. Tim swung his own rifle onto his back and
picked up the gun. One quick magazine release revealed at least two
more bullets remaining. He snapped the mag back into place.
“Get up,”
he said to the gunman on the ground. He pulled back the hammer of the
handgun to demonstrate his seriousness.
The gunman
continued to lay.
Tim ducked down
close to the form. His gun still pointed at the man's head as he
rolled the shooter onto his back. His eyes were open and his mouth
slanted in a dimwitted looking grin. Tim knew the intruder was dead.
One of the rancher's bullets had blown out a hole in the gunman's
throat. For a brief moment, Tim bowed his head in shame.
The stirring and
groaning of the surviving intruder cut his gesture short. He stood up
and moved to the remaining, wounded man. He kept an aim on the
intruder.
“Who are
you?” Tim yelled from about ten yards away. His eyes darted
from the man's face to his belt and back. He prayed that this guy
wasn't scared enough to shoot at him. He probably was scared enough.
But at least he didn't do it.
“What do you
want?” Tim asked. The cries of pain were all he was answered
with. Annoyed when he still got no reply, Tim marched up to the
huddled form and bashed it in the side of the face with his bare
fist. The injured man was thrown to the ground. His cries were
muffled in dirt.
That's where he
would have stayed, too, if Tim didn't walk over to the crumpled man
and heave him up by his hair. “Who are you?” Tim repeated
through gritted teeth. When the man whimpered, Tim hit him again but
clutched hard onto his hair so he would stay upright.
The intruder
started to laugh. At first, it was small and insane bursts of unsure
tittering but then it evolved into a full blown maniacal belly laugh.
This creeped Tim out.
“Shut up!”
he roared. He punched the man back down into the ground.
“You have no
idea what's coming next,” the intruder said. Tim could hear all
of the blood in his mouth as he spoke.
“What did you
say?” Tim raised his gun at the man.
The man laughed
again. “Go ahead, shoot me,” he chuckled. He spit out a
mouthful of blood. “It doesn't change what the Crusade will do
to you. They are going to tear you limb from limb like hungry dogs.”
“Who?”
Tim asked. “Heaven's Crusade? The church?”
The intruder
grinned. “It's the end-times, Mr. Simacean. We're just opening
the doorway.”
“What the
hell are you talking about?” Tim asked. He started to feel
paranoid.
“His army is
coming,” the intruder began. “We're just securing His
kingdom before the unholy do.”
“Why?”
Tim demanded.
Laughing more, his
captive ignored the interrogation. “Javier escaped. I know he
did. Right now, he's on his way to tell an army of God's servants
that you will not give up His miracle.” He chuckled more. “When
he does, they are going to bring the retribution of hell down upon
you.”
Tim's heart felt
cold. Could he trust this man's threat? How could he defend himself?
The captive rose to
his feet, the grin of a sick dog smeared on his face. “They
will be coming,” he sneered. He spat at Tim's feet.
“Yeah, well,”
Tim started, cocking the pistol, “they'll be up to see you
shortly.”
He put a round
between the man's eyes.
-Chapter Twenty-
This
House
“As multiple
investigations have proved to be incriminating for America's largest
corporations, Decree, the company that was first investigated for its
human rights violations announced publicly that they have purchased
and retained control of the New York Police Department. The officers
'under new management' have begun operations to disperse the rising
number of protestors in the New York business district. Their first
step involved covering the sidewalks with a foul-smelling fertilizer
compound. When protestors remained, they began passing and enforcing
strict anti-vagrancy laws. For example, being found asleep in any
public area, with the exception of medical issues, one could find
himself in jail for the night and fined fifteen-hundred dollars.
“In response,
the president has declared that the federal government will not be
acknowledging the Decree policies as constitutional legislation. When
asked what will be done to stop the privatized police forces, the
president had this to say:”
“We do not
want to attack our own citizens. Right now we are working on a
solution, but the fact of the matter is that these people are well
armed and well organized and as long as things remain civil, we will
not invade one of our own cities.”
The radio broadcast
continued as such, going on to talk about a man named Arnold who was
comatose in a hospital. It played in the background as Tim and the
crew pounded in signs on every visible angle of the compound.
They read, “All
trespassers will be shot on sight.”
Police and
ambulances pulled onto the Simacean Ranch just as dawn broke. Tim had
his self-defense angle nailed due to a lot of coaching from Barney.
He told them that the men had broken onto his property and tried to
vandalize the angel. He explained how they saw him and opened fire at
him and how he returned it. His story was that he had accidentally
killed both of the dead men who were now being wheeled into
ambulances while returning fire. The officer he was giving his report
to stepped away to his patrol car to radio in something. In his
absence, two men in windbreakers stepped in. One had a dark gray
jacket while the other wore blue. Henry Douglas was the man in blue.
“Sir,”
the unknown man nodded to Tim.
“Mr.
Simacean,” Agent Douglas started, almost with a smirk. “Here
I am again.”
“Unfortunately,”
remarked the rancher.
“Sir, you
were notified to stop commercial activity around the object and
secure it from general access just earlier this week, were you not?”
the unidentified agent interrogated.
Tim gawked. “I
wasn't told to secure shit,” he spat.
“You wanna
check your attitude, Tim?” Douglas asked cheerfully.
With cold malice
burning under his brow, Tim stepped as close as he could to the agent
without standing on his toes. His jaw sharpened and his slitted eyes
stared into Douglas' smug happy eyes without a sliver of compassion.
“I killed two men this morning,” he hissed. “Forgive
me if I'm a bit sour. You want to get the fuck off of my property?”
Douglas' smile
dropped only a little and he stepped back.
“Do you know
what the repercussions are for disregarding a direct federal order?”
the man without a name asked Tim.
“I'm shutting
down shop already,” Tim replied quickly. “My men are
barring the property right now.”
“That's not
good enough, Tim,” Agent Douglas started. “Some people
are going to be coming around to remove the angel from the premises.”
Tim's mouth dropped
in offense.
“You will not
be compensated,” Douglas continued. “You will not be
notified ahead of time. You cannot – ”
“This is
ridiculous!” Tim interrupted. “I have had my entire
life's work smashed by this thing. I've been threatened by lunatics
so I have to hole up in my house like a fortress and shoot
trespassers on sight, and now you want to take the only thing I have
left?” He was almost in tears.