Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (29 page)

“Arrrgggg!” managed Darrel, through clenched teeth. “You’re crazy . . . this is my house!”

“Does that mean you live here?” asked John, as he kneeled next to Darrel, resting a knee on his neck. John pried the shotgun from Darrel’s hands and leaned it against the side of the house.

“Yeah, it’s my house, and you’re gonna pay for shooting me. I’m gonna take you down,” said Darrel, through gasps of pain followed by a string of expletives.

“Well that’s funny,” said John. “I just happen to know the people who live here, and if they’re hurt in any way it won’t be good for you.” John quickly removed four zip-ties from his tactical vest and roughly rolled Darrel onto his stomach. John zip-tied Darrel’s hands firmly behind his back and dragged him, by his undamaged leg, to the nearest patio post. Darrel moaned with the movement, but to his credit he didn’t scream. John pulled him up against the post until his two legs straddled it, and he zip-tied Darrel’s ankles together. The thug was lying face down on the ground, straddling the patio post with his legs, arms secured firmly behind his back with zip-ties. John knew he wasn’t going anywhere without help.

John saw blood on the back of Darrel’s pant leg and ripped them open. The bullet had passed cleanly through the meaty part of his
leg. He would live. “You’re lucky,” said John. “I missed your femoral artery. You won’t bleed to death.” John stood and grabbed the shotgun and added, “I’m going to leave you here for a few minutes. While I’m away, I want you to think about how much mercy you can expect from the Hernandez family when they find out you’re lying tied up in their front yard.”

Darrel unleashed another string of obscenities, all of which were directed at John and his mother, and he tried to raise his head. John placed the toe of his boot against Darrel’s cheek and said, “You better not have harmed them in any way, because if you did, well, I wouldn’t want to be you.”

More obscenities flowed, followed by, “I’m gonna kill you . . . you . . . jarhead punk!”

John kicked Darrel lightly on the damaged leg, and the man screamed in agony. “I’m not a Marine, you tard. I’m a Soldier. If I was a Marine you’d probably already be dead by now. So shut up before I tape your mouth.”

Darrel began to mumble, “You’re a dead man. You’re a dead man,” over and over again. John left him and went back to check on Luanne. He saw that she was still unconscious, or at least that’s what she wanted John to believe. He checked her restraints and entered the house through the open garage door. John shined his flashlight into the Hernandez’s van as he passed, and saw that it was loaded with food and other supplies. He laid the shotgun on the hood of the van by placing it in the gap with the wiper blades, and forgot about it. It was nothing special, just a generic tactical model, not even a Mossberg, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t deadly. It could get the job done. He also didn’t want to carry the unfamiliar shotgun with him. It was never smart to rely on an enemy’s weapons until it could be tested, so it would stay on the van, in the garage.

With his pistol drawn and held at low-ready, John entered the kitchen from the garage. More food and supplies were piled on the kitchen floor, and laying on the kitchen counter in heaps. John
moved silently through the lower part of the house, walking quickly and silently in a heal-down, roll-to-toe motion that worked very well indoors.

The house was quiet, too quiet for John’s comfort. He found no one downstairs and immediately feared the family was already dead, or perhaps even worse, gone. Anger presented itself to John. It tried to rise up in his mind and take control, but he quickly subdued it, much more effectively than he ever had before. Since traveling the gates, John felt he was in much more control of his feelings and emotions. It was a strange observation and ability to possess, the awareness that he was in control of his emotions.

John continued his search upstairs and found the three Hernandez children in the first room he entered. They were lying face up on the floor, tied and gagged with duct-tape. He saw fear and terror in their eyes, but he couldn’t help them yet, there was still two more people to account for. He also didn’t want to risk their safety by letting them run free through the house before he finished clearing it. He whispered to them, “Everything will be OK, just be calm. I’m here to help you. I’ll be right back,” and left them amid their heart rending squeals of fear.

After he cleared the two adjoining bedrooms, John made his way to the master bedroom. A flicker of light danced off the bedroom door, and the smell of spiced pears reached his nose. John knew it was from a scented candle. He tactically entered the bedroom and saw Marissa, naked, spread-eagle on the king-sized bed, her limbs stretched and tied to the four corner bed posts with long strands of twisted duct tape. John went to the small scented candle and stopped to blow it out, but then paused, it needed to burn a bit longer despite the associative damage it would cause. The light was still useful.

John went to Marissa before clearing the rest of the bedroom, but he couldn’t help it. She was still, unmoving, and he wondered if she was dead. He removed the strip of duct tape over her mouth and pulled out the rag. Her pulse was strong. John wanted to do more to help her, but he had to find Paul. He had a very strong feeling that Paul should be
the first one Marissa saw when she regained consciousness. He didn’t question that feeling because it made complete and total sense to him. He was tempted to radio Adam to come over, but he still wasn’t sure the house was safe. Besides, the scene definitely wasn’t something he wanted his son to see.

He found Paul in the master bathroom, his face bloody and swollen. The patriarch of the Hernandez family had been hog-tied with duct-tape, and left to lay on the tile floor of the dark bathroom while the invaders abused his wife in the bedroom. Before he approached the injured man, John cleared the two closets and the toilet stall. He then knelt next to Paul and removed the tape and rag from his mouth. Paul’s pulse was also strong, and John quickly cut his bonds and attempted to rouse the man with firm pats to his cheeks.

“Paul! It’s John . . . John Anderson.” After several pats, and a bit of shaking, Paul’s eyes finally opened, but he appeared disoriented as he tried to find his way back to consciousness, back to the surface. John realized he must have submerged to a great depth in order to deal with the horrors happening around him. When awareness returned to Paul’s eyes, he recoiled from John and prepared to lash out with his fists. John put up his hands, palms out, and said, “Paul. It’s OK. It’s me, John. I’m here to help you.”

“John?”

“Yeah, I need your help, Paul. Marissa needs your help. Your children need your help,” said John. He could see by the look in Paul’s eyes that awareness was returning to him. “Paul . . . are you with me?”

Paul looked at John and cried out, “Oh my God! Marissa!” He shot up and ran into the bedroom. He collided with the door frame as he passed, and roughly threw himself onto the bed next to his wife as he wept openly. “Marissa, my love! What have they done to you? What have they done to you?” he cried, over and over.

John followed him into the bedroom and began to cut Marissa’s bonds. John needed Paul’s attention, so he reached for the man’s shoulder and shook him tenderly. “Paul!” he said, firmly. “Paul!”

Through sobs, Paul yelled, “Leave us alone. Haven’t you done enough already?”

“Paul, I know you’re upset, but you have to be strong for your family. I need you to dress Marissa while I free your children. They’ll want to see their mother, and you can’t let them see her like this. Paul! Do you hear me?” John was about to slap Paul again, but he saw control come to his face. Paul cradled his wife’s head in his lap and looked up at John as if seeing him for the first time, “Can you help us?”

“That’s why I’m here, Paul. Now go get some clothes for Marissa while I check her vitals.” Paul did as he was told, and whet to the closet as John examined her head and neck for trauma. He found her pulse and pupillary response to be normal. She had been beaten and abused, but she would live. John was able to rouse her completely from her unconsciousness, but when she opened her eyes she looked right through him. “Paul. She needs you now,” said John as he stood.

Marissa curled into a fetal position, and John covered her with a blanket that had apparently been thrown to the floor. He really wanted to get her some water, and he was just walking out of the room to find some when Paul returned with clothing. “Can you dress her?” he asked Paul.

“Yes,” answered Paul, as he went to his wife.

“Do you have any bottled water?” asked John.

“It’s in the kitchen . . . the pantry,” answered Paul, as he began to rouse Marissa to dress her.

“I’ll be right back, Paul. You stay with Marissa, OK? Do you understand me? Do not leave her side.”

“Yes. I understand. Thanks John,” he said, and looked up at John with wet eyes. “Thank you for helping us.”

“I’ll be right back. Remember what I said, Paul. Stay with Marissa.” Paul nodded his understanding, and John left the bedroom to find the bottled water. He found a partially used case of it sitting on the kitchen floor, and hoisted it onto his shoulder. But then stopped and lowered the water to the countertop. John forgot to call Adam, so he quickly
adjusted his radio for two-way communications and pushed the talk button.

“Snake?”

“Dad, are you there? Dad. I know what’s going on. I’m coming over right now,” came Adam’s frantic voice over the radio.

“No!” cut in John. “I want you to stay where you are. Is mom there? I need to talk to her.”

“I’m right here. Do you need me to come over?” asked Jenna. All radio formalities were apparently thrown out the window with the crisis, but at least they weren’t using their true names in the clear.

“Yes, but stay in the truck until I come out to meet you. There are two bad-guys tied up in the yard. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” replied Jenna, calmly.

“Good, then pull straight in and park as close to the pickup as you can. Kill the headlights when you arrive, but leave the running lights on. I’ll come out and walk up to the passenger side. Make sure you come armed. Can you do that for me?”

“I can,” was her short reply. “And I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you in a couple minutes . . . out here,” said John, and he ended the communication. He grabbed the water and ran up the stairs. He sat the case of water next to Paul and instructed him to wipe Marissa’s face and have her drink some of the water. With a hand on Paul’s shoulder, John said, “I’m going to release your kids now. They’ll come in here very excited. Are you ready for them?”

“I am,” choked, Paul. “Thank you, John.”

John patted him on the back and went to release Paul’s children. They looked calmer than before, but still frightened and upset. He talked to them softly as he released them, and started with the youngest of the three boys first. As soon as the little boy was free, he ran crying into his parent’s bedroom. John released the middle boy with the same effect. But as John reached down to pull duct tape off the third child’s mouth, the oldest boy, he saw anger and hatred flash in his eyes.

John paused, but then removed the tape anyway. The boy screamed, “Let me go! Untie me, now!”

“What’s your name?” asked John.

“Why won’t you release me?” he screamed at John again. “Let me go!”

John sighed and sat next to the boy. “Look,” said John, “your parents were both brutally attacked, and your brothers are very upset. If I let you go you have to promise me that you won’t attack me, or create any problems for the rest of your family.” John looked into the boy’s angry eyes and saw strength and intelligence. “I know you’re angry,” continued John, “but you’re alive. Your family is alive. I need you to think about that for a minute, and be grateful for it.”

John saw tears well up in the boy’s eyes, so he bent and cut the duct tape bonds from his feet and hands. The boy immediately pulled his knees up to his chest and began to sob. John sat next to him and wrapped an arm around the boy’s narrow shoulders. “I know there’s nothing I can say to ease your pain right now, but I promise you, when this is all over, I’ll teach you how to fight and defend yourself from bad people . . . like the ones who attacked you and your family.”

With a shaky voice the boy asked, “Do you promise?”

“Scout’s honor,” replied John, as he made the three-fingered salute.

The boy wrapped his arms around John and said, “Thanks for saving us.” They stood together, and hugged again. “I’m Marcus,” said the boy, as he wiped a hand over his face to clear his eyes.

“Hello, Marcus. I’m John. It’s nice to meet you. Now go to your mom. I’m sure she’s worried about you.”

Marcus wiped his eyes once more and turned to go find his family. John peeked in at them from the hall as he passed. They were holding each other and crying. John saw that Paul was speaking softly, with his head bowed, and wondered if he was saying a prayer. Not wanting to interrupt them, John left them in peace and went out to meet up with Jenna. He knew she was parked in the driveway because he saw the
beam of the Suburban’s headlights play off the far bedroom wall while he was talking with Marcus.

John also thought it was a good time to check on the status of his two prisoners, so he made his way to the front yard through the garage and approached Luanne. He was glad to find both prisoners conscious but quiet. John didn’t say a word to either of them, but he saw the worry in their eyes, and that made him feel better about what he did. They knew he had seen what they had done to the Hernandez family, and that judgment was close at hand.

John accidentally kicked Darrel’s injured leg as he passed, and it earned him a long string of expletives from the subdued rapist. John stopped at the hood of the Suburban and allowed Jenna to recognize him, and then walked over to the passenger side. He climbed in the Suburban after Jenna reached over and unlocked the door. They kissed and John said, “It’s sure good to see you, my love.”

“Good to see you,” she replied. They kissed again and embraced. “I was freaking out when I heard the shot over the radio, and then very relieved to hear your voice immediately after. You scared me to death, John. Next time please leave the radio off, OK?”