“Watch out?”
“Keep your eyes peeled. Sam’s dangerous. Half the time he got locked up it was for getting into a fight. Sure, sometimes you’ve got to fight. But he’d fight when he didn’t need to.”
Rob nodded. He already knew Sam was dangerous. And his friend. They’d kidnapped Jessica after all.
“Well,” said Rob, thinking he’d gotten all the information he was going to get. “Thanks for the tea. I’d better get going.”
It felt sad, as if he was visiting his grandparents, and he knew it was going to be the last time that he ever saw them.
They said their goodbyes, and Rob stepped back across the door’s threshold.
The door closed behind him.
And as soon as it did, he realized that he was once again in the post-EMP world. People could hide that fact from themselves, but the reality would always be there, waiting for them.
His heart starting to pound in his chest.
The anxiety that he’d pushed aside came rushing back up.
Adrenaline was coursing through his veins.
His thoughts turned completely away from the cute old couple and their tea saucers. And they turned to Jessica. And the fight that he knew he couldn’t avoid.
As he got into the Subaru and cranked the engine, he had the sinking feeling that this might be a fight that he couldn’t win.
He didn’t feel any relief at discovering where Jessica likely was. He didn’t feel relief in knowing that he knew how to get there, or knowing what he had to do.
Instead, he felt dread. And he realized that he’d never really before felt true dread. It was a sinking feeling deep in his guts, as if a pit was opening up, a yawning chasm of darkness stretching out inside of him to nothing at all. A bottomless pit.
It wasn’t obligation that was driving Rob to press on.
It was something else.
Duty.
Responsibility.
It was the responsibility that he’d always been chastised for lacking.
It was rising up.
And it was driving Rob to do the right thing.
He put the Subaru into reverse, jammed the accelerator, and the wagon rocketed backwards down the driveway. He hit the road, spun the wheel vigorously, got it pointed in the direction of Route 22.
And he was off. The wheels spun. The engine whined. The window was down and the air was in his hair. His gun, handed back to him by Danny, was once again within reach.
18
Jim ducked behind the boat as shots sounded.
The boat was metal. But thin metal. Jim didn’t know if the rounds would penetrate or not.
The one thing Jim definitely had going for him was that Andy was a bad shot.
Even so, Jim acted in order to maximize his safety. That was half the battle. He covered his head with his arms and hands, thinking that he’d rather take a bullet in the arm than the head.
Jim counted the shots as Andy fired in quick succession.
Jim’s exhausted brain was trying to take in the situation, trying to analyze it. He needed to stay as calm as he could if he wanted to stay alive. Otherwise, he’d make some error that would see him wind up dead.
It was quickly becoming clear that Andy, on the other hand, was acting irrationally. Acting out of fear. Discharging his weapon as fast as he could. And from a good distance.
One round struck the boat. Jim heard the diminutive pinging sound it made.
The other rounds must have missed widely.
The large heavy paddle lay at Jim’s feet.
It was going to be a guessing game. Guessing when Andy’s gun was empty. Guessing whether Jim could rush him with the paddle in the time it took to reload. Guessing just how spent Jim’s body really was, and whether or not he could count on himself to sprint the required distance.
Jim thought he could do it. But he also knew that his mind wasn’t right. He knew he couldn’t trust his own judgment.
But what choice did he have?
It was time to act.
Silence rang out. There were no gunshots.
Jim seized the paddle as he rose to his feet. In doing so, he was exposing himself.
The paddle was heavy. It’d be hard to run with it.
But it was the only weapon he had.
His eyes tracked onto Andy, who had apparently been walking towards Jim as he discharged his gun.
Andy’s eyes widened as he saw Jim. He had the gun in both hands, and he was fumbling, trying to load the gun.
Jim launched himself forward, putting absolutely everything that he had into it. He focused his entire being on getting to Andy. On destroying him.
Andy wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
And it was up to Jim to win that fight.
Jim’s muscles responded more than he’d expected them to. His feet were slamming into the ground. His arms were moving awkwardly from holding the paddle. He felt his head bobbing slightly in time with his pacing.
He closed the distance in no time.
Andy was raising the gun.
It seemed to be happening in slow motion.
Jim didn’t know if Andy’d gotten the gun loaded or not.
It didn’t matter. He’d already committed himself to this. There was no turning back now.
Jim brought the paddle up, holding it like a club with both hands. As he ran, he brought it back behind his shoulder.
Jim’s timing was good.
Only a few feet left now. Andy was right in front of him, each feature of his face clearly visible.
Jim started swinging the paddle back, as if he was about to hit a home run.
Andy pulled the trigger. The gun clicked.
But nothing happened.
No shot rang out.
Pure terror appeared in Andy’s eyes.
The paddle was swinging. Heavy and hard.
Andy started to bring his hands up to defend himself, either to try to catch the paddle or to cover his head.
But he didn’t get them up in time.
The wide part of the heavy paddle connected with Andy’s skull.
Jim had done well. It’d been a good swing. The timing was right. And he’d put everything he’d had into it. The fact that he’d been sprinting forward as he’d swung had only added to the total force of the blow.
There was a sickening sound as the paddle hit.
Something happened to Andy’s eyes. Jim didn’t know if they’d rolled back in his head. It was too quick to see, because the next thing he knew, Andy had collapsed to the ground.
Jim was panting heavily. He dropped the paddle and scrambled for Andy’s gun.
A guy like Andy couldn’t be trusted. Even when he was apparently passed out.
Jim held the gun in one hand as he patted down Andy’s body with the other. Most of the gear was on the improvised sled, but he found a few items that Andy had stuffed into his pockets. There was one of Jim’s own knives, a box of matches, and a couple candy bars. Jim pocketed the items, and then took a step back.
He kept the gun trained on Andy and thought about what came next.
Andy was still breathing. Shallow, sickly breaths. The hit to the head had been hard.
He was still alive.
There was a chance he’d die from the blow.
But there was also a chance he’d recover.
And if he lived, there was no doubt in Jim’s mind that after Andy had slunk off to recover, he’d come looking for Jim again.
A stern verbal warning would mean nothing. This wasn’t one of those old cowboy movies where the bad guy could simply be warned never to step foot in town again. And anyway, Jim wasn’t sure how often that’d worked in those movies.
There were obviously no cops to call. No jail to lock Andy up in.
The choice was clear.
Andy would either be alive or dead. And it was up to Jim to decide.
He didn’t mind killing. Not if it meant protecting himself, his wife, and his friends.