Broken Ties: A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World (Broken Lines Book 3) (9 page)

              When Jung lifted the bandage off her shoulder to look at the bullet wound, he could see the flesh blackening around the bullet’s entrance point. Red dots lined her arm and crept up her neck. He could feel the heat coming off her body.

              Jung didn’t know what to do. The medication Anne gave him wasn’t helping. The only hope he had was to get her to the relief center in Cincinnati, but he couldn’t persuade anyone else to come with him.

              They didn’t care. None of them were in the position he was. He was the one with the sick wife. He was the one who had to do something now. Nobody was going to save his family. He had to do it.

              All he had to do was find the key to the Jeep. With the car he could make the trip in an hour. Even if they did want to follow him, it’d take them days to catch up by foot. He wouldn’t even need to take any supplies with him, just his family.

              He just wasn’t sure how to sneak his wife and kids outside without waking up the rest of the house. There was the window, but it was small, and Jenna could barely stay awake, let alone gather the strength to pull herself from bed.

              Jenna started coughing. She hacked and convulsed on the bed. Jung tried to steady her, giving her the cloth to cover her mouth.

              She fell back against the bed, trying to catch her breath as the cloth fell from her hand. Jung grabbed it and noticed the red, pinkish stains covering the white cloth.

He had to do something. He had to get her help. He couldn’t let her die here. He couldn’t let their children grow up without their mother.

***

              Anne paced the backyard, looking up through the branches of the trees into the night sky. Whatever hell she thought she’d been through before didn’t feel like this. Her daughter was in danger. Her husband was about to run headfirst into that danger, and she had no idea if she’d see either of them again.

              The cigarette in her hand stayed unlit. She just felt better holding it. It’d been more than fifteen years since she smoked, but tonight she desperately wanted to light it.

              It remained pinched between her fingers. Every once in a while she’d bring it to her lips, a motion that felt seamless. She’d let it hang there, dangling from her lower lip, begging to be lit. Then she’d rip it out of her mouth and clutch the cigarette in her hand tightly.

              Mike would bring Kalen home. Anne knew that. He wouldn’t let their daughter stay in the hands of whatever creatures were in that town.

              A shudder ran through her thinking of what they would do to her if they caught her, of what they’d do to Mary.

              Anne just couldn’t wrap her head around why her daughter would leave, why would she put herself in that type of danger? She knew Kalen had been through a lot, but she seemed like she was getting better.

              She shoved the cigarette back into the package. She crushed the packet in her hands and tossed it angrily into the depths of the forest.

              The town was dark. The only light provided was the reflection of the moon. Mike, Ulysses, Tom, Clarence, and Fay all moved in unison. Mike and Ulysses were up front, while Tom, Clarence, and Fay brought up the rear.

              Mike could tell his father was still limping from twisting his knee a few days ago, but he didn’t have the brain power to concentrate on anything but getting Kalen back.

              He knew Fay would be able to keep up, and Clarence was a decent enough shot, but the weakest link of the group was Tom. This wasn’t an elite group of fighters, but it was what Mike had to work with.

              “You said there were twenty bikers?” Mike asked.

              “Yeah, could be more though. I only got a look at a handful of them, but there were a lot of bikes parked out front at the motel,” Ulysses answered.

              The five of them took time to scan the streets on the edge of the town, hiding in the tall grass. If Mike could swing it, he’d like to get his daughter back without having to fire a shot, but the doubt of that happening was growing in the back of his mind.

              If the bikers saw or heard him before they were able to get Kalen out, they’d hurt her. Mike couldn’t take that chance.

              “Okay, here’s the plan. Fay, Clarence, and Ulysses, you go and set yourselves up on the second story of one of the buildings across from the motel. You have enough ammo to provide a lot of cover fire. I only want you to shoot if you hear someone else shooting first, understand?” Mike asked.

              “Of course,” Clarence said.

              “Got it,” Fay replied.

              “I should be coming with you,” Ulysses said.

              “Dad, you’re still limping from the other day. Whoever goes into get the girls will have to be mobile, and right now you’re not.”

              “I’m on the ground with you?” Tom asked.

              “You stay on my tail the whole way in. You have the silencer I gave you?” Mike asked.

              “I got it,” Tom said.

              “If the girls are dead,” Mike said, pausing after the last word left his mouth. “Then I’m going to draw the bikers out. And I want to bury all of them. If you have a problem with that, then tell me now.”

              The others didn’t say anything.

              “Let’s go,” Mike said.

              The group took off. Ulysses, Clarence, and Fay headed toward the other side of the street, keeping low until they found a good spot across from the motel.

              While Mike tried to be as quiet as possible, Tom marched behind him like an elephant stampeding through a field.

              “Try and keep it quiet,” Mike said.

              “I am.”

              Mike counted the bikes out front. Ulysses was right; there were at least twenty of them. If they doubled up when they rode here then there could be even more.

              “We’ll check the first floor and work our way around. I’ll check the windows. You just make sure no one sees us,” Mike said.

              “And if someone does?”

              “Kill them fast.”

              The first few rooms were empty. When they got to the end of the hall and started making their way to the other side, one of the doors opened. Mike and Tom jumped behind a staircase to hide.

              The biker never looked their way as he headed through the courtyard. Mike stayed put, making sure he didn’t come back, then made his way to the room he just left.

              Mike kept the barrel of the rifle buried in the crack of the door and slowly turned the handle. The inside was dark. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the room was empty.

              They left and continued checking the other rooms as they passed them. A few of them had bikers inside, making Mike and Tom crawl for a few feet below the window, but Kalen and Mary weren’t anywhere on the first floor.

              The second floor wasn’t any better. All of those rooms were empty. Wherever the girls were, the bikers weren’t keeping them at the motel.

              Mike sat on the edge of the bed in the last empty room they checked. The dim light of hope that his daughter was still alive was fading.

              Then he heard two voices coming up the stairs outside. Mike raised his rifle, poised to shoot, aiming at the door.

              Tom’s head was on a swivel as he kept glancing between the window and Mike. He slowly moved to the back of the room.

              Mike positioned himself in the right front corner next to the window so he could get a clear shot.

              “I wish Jake hadn’t beaten them up so bad.”

              “Yeah, they would’ve been a good lay if their faces weren’t all fucked up.”

              “Did he say what he wanted to do with them?”

              “They’re supposed to stay alive for now. Jake thinks they got help from people staying in a cabin nearby. We’re going to check in the morning.”

              Mike watched the patches on the backs of the bikers’ cuts fade out of view along with the sound of their voices.

              The girls were hurt, but they were still alive. The bikers were coming from somewhere, now he just had to find out where they were coming from.

              Mike cracked the door and saw one of the bikers turn into a room a few doors down while the other kept walking. He waited until the other biker disappeared into his own room.

              “Mike,” Tom said.

              “We’ll go down and ambush him. But we have to keep him quiet. I’ll hold him down while you gag him.”

              “Mike, listen.”

              “What?”

              “If we know they’re alive and it looks like most of the bikers will be heading out for a search party in the morning, why don’t we just wait until then to look for them. There’ll be less chance of us getting caught.”

              “Because they might not be alive in the morning.”

              Tom didn’t have kids. He wasn’t a father. If he could do something to get his daughter out, then he was going to explore every opportunity that presented itself, and right now one of them was less than a hundred feet away from them.

              Mike counted the rooms off quietly in this head.
One. Two. Three.
He could feel his pulse quicken. He checked the window. The room was empty, but the bathroom door was open.

              Mike opened the door quietly, keeping the handle turned when he shut it to avoid the door clicking when he closed it.

              He set the rifle on the bed and motioned for Tom to do the same. The sound of the urine hitting the toilet was followed by the groan of relief.  Mike put his back to the wall just outside the door, and when the biker came out Mike covered his mouth and held him in a headlock.

              “Grab the zip ties out of my bag,” Mike said.

              Tom pulled two zip ties and grabbed the biker’s legs, taking a boot to the face in the process but eventually tying him up.
              Mike replaced his hand with the biker’s bandana, shoved it in his mouth, then zip-tied his hands behind his back.

              The biker squirmed on the bed, struggling to free himself. Sweat dripped from the tip of Mike’s nose as he pulled a blade from his belt. He could see the whites of the biker’s eyes stare at the sharp edge of steal in his hand.

              Mike brought the knife to the biker’s throat. The edge dug into his skin, drawing blood that trickled beneath his shirt and onto the bed.

              “The girls you were talking to your friend about earlier. Where are they?” Mike asked.

              What came out of the biker’s mouth was “duck you,” but Mike figured that wasn’t what he meant.

              He slammed the knife into the biker’s calf. The blood oozed from the gash as Mike kept pressure on the blade, digging it deeper into the flesh. The biker thrashed on the bed, screaming into the bandana.

              “Where is she?” Mike asked.

              The gurgling sound of blood and the cutting of meat followed every twist of the knife Mike gave. He could feel the blade scrape along the bone. The biker’s body jerked and convulsed.

              “Harrifs ahffice. Harrifs ahffice,” the biker said.

              Mike slammed the butt of his rifle into the biker’s forehead, knocking him unconscious.

              “Let’s go,” Mike said.

              Mike hurried down the steps and crouched behind a car on the street. He looked up at the second floor of the Laundromat, waving his arms trying to get Fay’s, Clarence’s, and Ulysses’s attention.

              He saw Fay wave back, and he pointed down the street toward the sheriff’s office. She gave a thumbs-up in response.

              “They’ll have guards inside. We’re not detaining this time. You shoot to kill, got it?” Mike said.

              “Got it,” Tom said.

              Mike was alert. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His daughter was alive, and he was less than sixty feet away from getting her out.

              Then, when Frankie came out of his room and saw Mike and Tom running across the courtyard, everything started to move in slow motion.

              “Hey!” Frankie shouted.

              Frankie started screaming for everyone to get out of bed. Mike pulled the pistol from his side and fired in Frankie’s direction. When he did, he could hear his sniper team open fire from their position.

              Mike kicked down the sheriff’s door, poised to shoot with his finger on the trigger.

              Through his sights, he could see Jake with a knife to Kalen’s throat, using her as a human shield. His daughter’s face was bruised and cut. Her right eye was completely swollen shut.

              “I knew someone would come for them,” Jake said.

              Mike kept his finger on the trigger. He might be able to get a shot off, but it would be risky. Jake had Kalen close. There wasn’t a lot of room for error.

              “Let her go,” Mike said.

              “I don’t think so. You put your gun down, or I slit her throat right here.”

              Mike took a step forward, and Jake dug the blade deeper into Kalen’s skin, making her tense up.

              “I’m not bluffing. I killed everyone in this town. One more dead bitch is no skin off my back,” Jake said. “Put the gun down.”

              It would only be a matter of time before more bikers came rushing in and put a bullet in Mike’s back, which did Kalen zero good. If he was captured, at least he could be here with her. That was something… for now.

              Mike took his finger off the trigger. He lowered the rifle and disarmed himself of all guns, knives, and ammunition.

              “Your friend too,” Jake said.