“They won’t care about the type of person you are. They’ll only care what they can do to you, every terrible thing imaginable and worse. All of your fears, whatever they are, won’t be as bad as their reality.”
Kalen guided Mary’s finger to the trigger.
“Remember what they did to your parents?” Kalen asked.
Mary’s body tensed up. She could see her father lying on the ground, blood pouring from his stomach, and the biker with the smile across his face. She saw her mother lying on the bed naked with the biker on top of her. She could feel the rocking of the bed as her mother was being raped.
“Once they kill you they’ll find your sisters, then they’ll hurt them,” Kalen said.
She could see her sisters crying, begging for help. When she saw their faces in her mind she could feel a shift.
“Pull the trigger, Mary,” Kalen said.
Whatever fear she was feeling had to be put aside. She couldn’t let her sisters suffer the same fate as their parents.
“Pull it!” Kalen said.
The click of the firing pin went off. Kalen let Mary go and the pistol dropped to the ground. Kalen picked the pistol up, dusting some of the dirt and leaves from the side. She tucked it back into her waistband.
Mary looked down at her hand. It was shaking. She closed her eyes, focusing her energy on forming a fist, trying to squeeze the adrenaline out of her body.
“Are we going to die?” Mary asked.
“Only if we want to.”
Frankie pulled a state map of Ohio from behind the lobby counter. He spread it out on the desk, and his finger ran along the paper creases from Cleveland to Carrollton. He snatched a pen from a jar and picked up a ruler from the desk.
He placed the end of the ruler on the center of Carrollton and marked a small line a few inches out. He made similar marks of equal length around the entire town. Then he drew a circle, connecting each mark on the map, which encompassed an area around Carrollton.
Frankie tossed the pen and ruler back behind the counter and stormed out of the lobby, grabbing a bag of chips from the food pile on his way out.
When Frankie made it to Jake’s room he was on the bed, cleaning his pistol. Frankie stopped at the doorway before he entered. Scanning the room he saw that the bed was made and the trash from their week’s stay had been picked from the floor.
“Housekeeping come by?” Frankie asked.
“What’d you find?” Jake asked.
Frankie spread the map out on the bed adjacent from where Jake was sitting.
“Carrollton’s the only town for at least twenty miles in any direction. It’s just highways and woods until you get anywhere,” Frankie said.
“What’d Spence find with tracks?”
“Nothing. We think they went through the grass fields.”
Jake slid the rag along the barrel of the gun. He dropped a few bits of lubricant on the barrel’s rim, then wiped the excess clean.
“If they had transportation, we would have heard them. They must have gone on foot,” Jake said.
“Jake, whoever killed Garrett isn’t coming back. They’re long gone. The chances of us finding them are… aren’t there.”
Jake set the barrel of the gun down next to the other pieces on the bed. He tossed the dirty rag in the trash and picked up the different pieces of the pistol, examining each of them individually in his hand.
“Each part of this gun serves a purpose. They all work in an understanding that each element will do its job. The gun needs all of its parts to work properly, and when they do the outcome is exactly what the shooter intends it to be… deadly,” Jake said.
The pieces of the gun clicked into place as Jake reassembled the weapon. When he put the slide back on and slid the magazine inside, he racked a bullet into the chamber, clicking the safety off.
“This club works the same way. If we don’t follow through with our commitment of avenging our brother’s death, then we become as useless as a gun with no trigger. We lose our direction and our bond,” Jake said.
Jake pointed the pistol at Frankie. Frankie took a step back, folding the map in his hands.
“I’ll check the public records. See if there’s any property registered in the woods around the town.”
Jake holstered his pistol.
“Good.”
The two AR-15s were on Kalen’s bed. She shoved the last bullet the spare magazine would hold, and threw it in the duffel bag. The rest of the magazines were full with thirty bullets apiece. Counting the bullets already loaded into the both rifles, it gave her a total of one hundred eighty shots.
From Mary’s and Ulysses’s description there were no more than twenty bikers in town. Nine bullets apiece, she figured that would be enough.
Kalen stuffed the empty bullet boxes in the bag she brought up from the basement and shoved it under her bed to hide it. The door to her room opened, and Mary came in, holding the pistol at her side.
“When do we leave?
Kalen smiled. She picked up one of the AR-15s and handed it to Mary.
“Now.”
Mary slipped the rifle strap over her shoulder and Kalen did the same. The two headed outside, and before they reached the forest Ulysses stopped them.
“Where are you two going?” Ulysses asked.
“We’re heading to the rifle stand,” Kalen answered.
“Those things loaded?”
“No, but we have some extra magazines… just in case.”
“You should let me come with you.”
“No offense, Grandpa, but we were hoping for some girl time.”
Ulysses threw his hands up.
“Okay. Don’t go far.”
Kalen led them through the forest. They walked for fifteen minutes before she changed course and headed for the town.
“So, what happens when we get there?” Mary asked.
“We’ll be outnumbered, but we’ll have the element of surprise on our side. If we can funnel them into a central location we can pin them down. We’ll be able to take a lot of them out that way, especially since they don’t know we’re coming.”
“What if they stay spread out?”
“Then we pick off as many as we can and keep moving. The moment they know where we are we’ll be in trouble. It won’t matter how many bullets we have at that point.”
Kalen acted as if she were going on a hunt with her dad. It wasn’t any different in her mind. She’d killed before. The only difference this time was the animals could shoot back.
Her mind went back to the man in the forest. The one who tried to rape her on their trip from Pittsburgh to the cabin. She could still feel his hands around her neck. She still remembered the weight of his body on top of hers, the helplessness she felt, and the greedy lust in the man’s eyes. The curling lip that formed a smile was fresh in her mind.
That man didn’t care who she was, what she wanted from life, or how it made her feel. The man had no regard for the nightmares she’d had since that day or the number of pills she took to stop making her feel anything then the hate she filled her mind and heart with to replace the fear. He didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was taking what he wanted.
Kalen knew the bikers in town were the same way. They rode in, killed who they wanted, and had zero regard for what it meant to own something, to work for something, to truly value something.
All of them were the same in Kalen’s mind. There was no difference between the face of the man in the forest and the faces of the bikers in town.
“Kalen, are you okay?” Mary asked.
Kalen was squeezing the rifle’s handle so hard that her arms were shaking. She suddenly became aware of the sweat on her face. Her knuckles had turned white, and when she removed her hand from the pistol grip on the front of the rifle she felt her skin peel off like Velcro.