Chapter 26
Dwight, Barry and Devon burst through the shattered doorway after Jared and assumed positions along the front of the structure where they could assess and engage targets out on the street. Once Jared and the other four settled in, all Jared could hear was the other men’s heavy breathing and a wind chime hanging outside the front door, which swung lazily in a slight breeze caressing its sail and causing the clapper to collide with the tubes. The moment was surreal to Jared, like two worlds occupying the same space. The chime was doing what it had done before and after the solar flare, unchanged by the forces of mother nature and unmolested by humans due to its worth in a burgeoning new world.
Yet here Jared sat, rifle in hand, intent on taking human life, which was an enormous departure from his former life. Jared glanced behind himself at the interior of the smallish home and found more things, human things left by the looters because they no longer held value. A television hung on the wall, staring back at him with its dead black screen, while an electronic pad was wedged between two cushions on a couch, where it was most likely left after its frustrated owner was unable to bring it to life after the solar flare.
Jared turned his attention back to his task at hand, noticing Devon with his .22-caliber rifle, and wondered what the kid’s squirrel gun was going to do to a human.
Jared was no expert in the field of guns or their ballistic capabilities, but he did know enough to understand the weapon the kid was carrying wasn’t designed to incapacitate large game like the ones they intended to engage shortly. Jared glanced out the window in time to see John and the ladies disappear into a small green house at the end of the street. He hoped none of the girls got wild and planted any rounds into the house he was in. He’d never seen them shoot, and as far as he knew, neither woman had fired a weapon.
Inside the house at the far end of the street, John ordered Claire into the kitchen, where he could see her from the front living area. The residence was not large, but its design adhered to a fairly open floor plan. It also smelled of death, which John pushed from his mind. He couldn’t be thinking of a body lying in a bed down the hallway when he needed to be focused on killing the four men trying to do the same to John and his friends. Claire gladly moved into the kitchen and cowered next to the counter.
John motioned for Stephani to saddle up next to him, and pointed up the street to the house Jared was in. “Do not shoot that house. Our boys are inside. We have enough problems without any friendly-fire incidents.”
Stephani nodded, eyes wide, her pupils dilated like she was on a strong stimulant. John smiled and patted her arm reassuringly. As he touched the woman, he wished he hadn’t, waiting for her to lash out. She did nothing of the sort; instead she returned his smile with a nervous one of her own while she crouched next to him, clutching her rifle. John was so relieved with her reaction he almost cracked a joke and laughed out loud. Alternatively, he pumped his head like an idiot, grinning and feeling lucky she hadn’t punched him.
“We’re gonna be good. Trust me, all good,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
John’s giddiness was interrupted by a single whistle that sounded as though it was right around the far corner. John craned his neck towards the open window and gave three whistles in return. A moment later four men rounded the corner and stopped, searching for their fellow marauder. John didn’t know for sure, but it didn’t appear the men had come across their fallen buddies. If they had, John was sure they’d have been maneuvering with far more caution.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Stephani murmured. “There’s four of them. Oh, I don’t know if I can do this,” she bemoaned softly.
John didn’t take his eyes off the men as they advanced. “You got this. If we don’t do this to them, they will do worse to us. No one’s gonna judge any of us for what happens here today,” John cajoled under his breath as he sighted on one of the men who was advancing with a scoped deer rifle. John hoped Jared had the presence of mind to do the same and leave the man with the largely impotent shotgun for last.
John wished he’d brought this up during his ten-second briefing. The men in his old unit prided themselves on giving the most detailed briefings any military unit in the world had ever seen or heard. If you couldn’t give a briefing to their standards, you wouldn’t be accepted into the unit. Now at a crucial time he’d made a mistake and hoped it wouldn’t adversely affect any member of their group.
The four men were now a third of the way down the block, moving in a four-man clump, which was going to make killing them far easier than if they’d been spread out. The four men consisted of three white males and a light-skinned black man. The black man appeared to be in his mid-twenties and was by far the youngest of the advancing party. The three white males all seemed to be forty years or older. They all handled their weapons like they’d learned the art from watching 1980s action films. This at least was comforting to John as he tracked the men’s movement as they approached Jared’s position.
John suddenly
