Through the Storm(63)
Movement behind him caused Drake to turn.
Ashley plopped to her knees beside him.
“What are you doing out here?” Drake whispered.
“Gruff is in the house and the door is locked.” She held the shotgun out for him to see. “And I’m trying to help.”
A flashlight snapped on in the forest.
More angry voices shouted from the area where light shone in the darkness. Most were men, but there was definitely an angry woman shouting curses in the forest.
Two shots tore through the quiet.
Ashley fell to the ground with a scream.
Another shot boomed.
“Are you okay?” Drake could barely see her in the dark.
“Yeah, I think.” She gulped air. “A bullet passed through my hair.” Ashley brushed hands along her face and head. “I don’t feel any pain or blood.” She sighed.
Rage flared in Drake. He peered through the monocular and then fired the rifle.
Men fell, screamed, and ran as Drake poured rounds into the forest.
Click.
Drake slapped another magazine into the rifle and sprayed thirty more rounds on the shooters in the forest.
Click.
“Stop! Please stop!”
Drake hesitated. The voice from the darkness sounded familiar. He inserted another magazine and then peeked into the monocular.
A single arm waved from a nearby gully.
“You shot at my girlfriend.” Drake’s heart pounded with anger and adrenaline. “Leave or I’ll kill all of you.”
“No, we didn’t shoot at you.”
“Liar!” Drake took a deep breath. “Get out of here, now!”
“This is my home. Please stop shooting. My dad’s been shot—”
“Conner?” Still holding his rifle, Drake stood as the word sank into him. “Dad? I shot Dad?” Drake ran into the darkness. He nearly tripped over one body and in the shadows of moonlight could see several more scattered on the forest floor. He looked right and left but didn’t see his father.
Someone stood and ran to a body.
“Conner, is that you?” Drake asked.
“Yes,” he said and cradled the head of a man lying face up on the ground.
Drake ran to his side. Even in the dim light, he recognized the faces of both his brother and father. A dark stain ran from the right side of his dad’s chest.
“Noooo! I killed him! Killed my dad!”
Conner grabbed his brother by both arms and shook. “No. I saw what happened. You didn’t do this.”
Drake stared into his brother’s eyes, wanting to believe him.
Ashley put her arm around Drake.
“A guy named Roark, the gang leader, shot Dad.” Conner hugged him. “It happened just before you opened fire. I think you saved the rest of us.”
A pregnant woman with a dog ran to them and clutched his father’s hand. “He’s alive. We need to get him inside. Where’s your house?”
“This way.” Ashley stood. “Follow me.”
Conner and Drake lifted their father. Another woman about Conner’s age helped and together they carried him home.
Gruff growled at the other dog, wagged his tail at Conner, Drake, and Ashley, and whined as they carried Neal to his bedroom.
“Can we get more light?” The pregnant woman glanced around the room. “I’ll need medical supplies, bandages, antiseptic. Is there a doctor or hospital nearby?” She tore back the shirt, revealing a bloody entry wound on the right side.
“Drake, get the generator running and then go to Pastor Wayne.” Ashley gestured in the direction of his house. “He should know how to find a doctor.”
He nodded and ran from the room.
Ashley turned away but then stopped. “I’ll get medical supplies from the survival closet, but we need at least one guard in case those guys come back.”
“I will.” Conner grabbed his rifle.
“I’ll help you.”
“Thanks, Madison.” Leaving Claire to perform first aid, everyone else hurried from the room.
Day Eleven
Evans Family Farm, Wednesday, September 14th
Drake awoke from a nightmare of gunfire, blood, and death to the faint light of dawn flowing through the living room window. He rubbed his eyes. The house seemed so quiet and peaceful. Had the horrible events of the past night been real?
As the last vestiges of sleep faded from his mind, Drake knew his brother had returned, and his father … how was his father doing?
A knock on the front door caused him to jump from the couch.
A bleary-eyed Ashley hurried in from the hallway with Gruff and Ginger following.
Conner appeared at the dining room entrance, holding a half-eaten apple.
Drake peered through the peephole. “It’s Pastor Wayne.” He opened the door and let him in.
“How’s your father doing?” he asked, stepping in.
“Ah ….” Guilt poured over Drake. He had fallen asleep and had no idea.
“Hanging on,” Conner said as he walked across the room. “The doctor left with Deputy Campbell a few hours ago.”
“They didn’t move him to the hospital?” Pastor Wayne asked.
“All their fancy instruments were burned out by the sun storm.” Conner frowned. “The doctor removed the bullet, cleaned and bandaged the wound. He’ll be back later today, but … he’s done about all he can.”