I turned, my eyes going through the crowd as I looked for Bob, praying that he would be within easy reach. As it happened, he’d noticed the action at the front of the room and was already on his way toward me, his arms outstretched. He pulled me right into a hug—not caring, evidently, that I was not the sort who gave hugs—and I could hear the tears in his voice when he started speaking.
“I was so worried,” he ground out. “That explosion in the sky, and then you two didn’t come home…”
I pulled back from him and looked up at the larger man. He’d given me my opening. Now it was time to share the information I had.
“We ran into some trouble,” I said shortly. “Bear. Angie’s leg is broken, and she needs the doctor.”
“Dr. Williams!” Bob shouted without taking his eyes off my face. “I’ve got a wounded niece over here!” Then, dropping his voice again, he said, “And? I can see that there’s more to your story.”
“And,” I said, grateful for his quick brain, “we also ran into another sort of trouble. Man by the name of Randall.”
All the color drained out of Bob’s face, and he closed his eyes for a long moment, taking a deep, heaving breath. “Randall Smith,” he said succinctly. “Yes, I know the man.”
“I got that idea,” I told him. “I don’t know what he did or why he was kicked out of town, but when he found out who Angie is, he tried to kidnap her. Thought he could use her as leverage against you. They tried to kill me to get to her, but we got away and found help. This is Marlon Jones,” I said, gesturing to our new friend. “He helped us get out of the forest.”
Marlon stepped forward, his hand stretched out in greeting, and though Bob gave him an odd look—one that I wondered deeply at—he took the proffered hand and shook it firmly.
“Marlon. I’ve heard of you, of course, but never had the chance to get out that way to meet you. I’m so thankful to you for helping my niece and her husband. So, so thankful.”
I tipped my head at that. Bob had heard of Marlon? How? Why? And what was with the look?
At that moment, though, the chief of police, Sean Slatten, came running up, his face red and his chest heaving as if he’d been running for some time.
He took a moment to nod in my direction, then turned to Bob.
“Mayor,” he said quickly. “We’ve got trouble. I was out walking the borders of the town, looking for any trouble, and I happened to see—”
“Randall Smith and a band of men across the river,” I guessed.
Sean nodded once. “With guns,” he continued. “Guns aimed in this direction. There aren’t many of them. Not yet. But on my way back I came across Henry O’Connor.”
Henry O’Connor. Another man who lived outside of town limits, though he came into town often enough to be friendly with the locals. He was nothing like Randall. I didn’t think.
“One of Randall’s more civilized friends,” Bob said in an aside that I knew was meant for me.
“Exactly,” Sean continued. “He told me that Randall’s already sent men out to his contacts in the area. He’s building a militia of sorts.”
“The militia he wanted to build when all the trouble first started,” Bob responded quietly. “The militia I told him I wouldn’t support.” Turning to me, he continued, “It’s why we forbid him from coming into town. We’ve always been preppers in this town. This far away from civilization, you have to be. You know that. You’ve seen the stores—the generators we saved so hard to build. Hell, we’re using those generators right now. But he wanted to go way further than we did. Wanted to turn prepping into something more. Make it a battle. Doomsday stuff, you know the sort. He was positive that the government was going to try to attack us or that something would go so catastrophically wrong that other groups would appear and attack us. Take our things. He started building up his own stash of weapons and goods. Even some chemicals that he thought he’d be able to use against whoever might show up. Wanted to build a group of armed soldiers. But I didn’t want anything to do with it. That’s not protecting ourselves. That’s not helping our neighbors. It’s not what we stand for up here. We took a vote on the council and ended up telling him he had no place here. That he needed to take his crazy ideas somewhere else.”
Right. No wonder he’d thought he could kidnap Angie and use her as a bargaining chip. He wanted to make this town into some sort of fort against anyone that might come around. And he was crazy enough to somehow think it was necessary. And I had no doubt that that was exactly why he was gathering people now: to take what this town had worked so hard to build up.
Take it and use it for the wrong reasons.
“Henry said he didn’t want any part of it,” Sean continued. “But told me there were a lot of men that were responding. Men who wanted the same thing as Randall. Men who won’t have any problem making trouble.”
Bob and I shared a long, tense look, neither of us saying anything. Then I glanced at Marlon—and saw that his face was just as serious as mine felt.
We’d made it back to Ellis Woods. We’d found our people. Found our daughter, and a doctor for Angie. And we were safe, dry, and warm. For now.
But come tomorrow, it looked like we’d be fighting a battle to keep this very town safe from the same man we’d been trying to escape.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 2… COMING SOON!
Thanks for reading! Want to help out?
Reviews are a huge help for independent authors like me, so if you liked my book, please consider leaving a review today.
Thank you!
T.W. Connor Reader Club
About the Author
T.W. Connor enjoys spending time in the wilderness, as well as reading and writing books of adventure and survival.
Get in touch: contact@twconnor.com
Copyright
Copyright © 2021 by T.W. Connor
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.