“Dad, this is really scaring me,” Tami said, her voice frail.
“Don’t worry,” he answered. “The key is to stick together. As long as we do that, there’s only so much they can hurt us.” But his words rang hollow, not fully convincing. He wasn’t even sure if he believed it himself.
“What are they planning on doing to us?” Justin asked.
No answer.
After a hard gulp, Jess said, “We don’t know yet, but I’m sure whatever it is—”
The door swung open with a loud, violent clang.
Tami shrieked, her body trembling as a gangbanger charged inside, rifle at his hip. “Everybody up!” he barked. “You’ve had enough sleep. Time to get to work. Now!”
The Hatfield family snapped into place, on their feet with their hands up. “Sir, if you don’t mind,” Jess started, “what kind of work will we be engaged in?”
“We’ll figure that out when you get into the kitchen,” the gangbanger said. “All I know is we’re hungry and ready for breakfast, so get to it!”
“Yes, sir,” Hatfield said.
“If the four of you ain't in the kitchen in three minutes, I’m coming back with this thing blasting anything in its way,” he said, nodding toward the rifle in his hands.
The family scrambled out of their pajamas and into their clothes. Reading the panicked gazes on their faces, Hatfield said, “Whatever we do, we stick together,” his voice as calm as he could manage. “Got it, guys?”
His only reply was a bunch of nodding heads. It was as if nobody else could find the strength to find words. Within less than a minute, they scrambled to the door, getting another shriek-inducing surprise when it swung open.
“Hello, everybody!” their leader called.
By now, they’d heard him called Nathan, and it was clear that he was capable of plenty of ruthless behavior. So the harmless grin on his face when he stormed into the room did nothing to pull their fear away. “Just what I like to see,” he said with a cackle. “A wholesome family working together. Isn’t that sweet?”
Hatfield noticed the gun dangling from his hand. His impulse was to slap it to the floor, then assail the man, rendering him helpless. The man was clearly not an experienced shooter. His grip on the handgun was unsteady.
As Nathan continued to buckle in laughter, his gaze drifting about the room—providing Hatfield with enough time to take him out—he had to remind himself why that wouldn’t be a good idea. They were held captive now, and that meant even if he could take this man out, there’d be others outside the room who would pose a threat, both to him and his family. Instead, he brought his voice to a deferential tone and said, “Sir, if you don’t mind, we need you to step aside so we can get to the kitchen—”
“Yes, I do mind! I will step aside when I want to, and not a second earlier! Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir.”
After taking a deep breath and waiting at least a minute, Nathan stepped aside, his face still stone-hard. As the rest of his family walked outside, he grabbed Hatfield by the shoulder, yanked him back into the room. “I’m watching you,” he said.
With his eyes down, he answered. “Yes, sir.”
“I know you used to lead these pathetic people, but now you don’t. And I can tell you that if you get any cute ideas of ways you can play hero, you will die nice and slow. But before that, you will watch your family die nice and slow—one after the other. I’ll make sure of that.”
He nodded, then walked out, trying to keep his breath under control. This guy was dangerous. He might not have been great at keeping his gun steady, but he was a menace, somebody who could and would commit acts of despicable violence if he needed to—or just wanted to. Hatfield could see that in his empty eyes.
AFTER WALKING INTO THE KITCHEN, Hatfield found the homesteaders slaving away as laughter rang out. The gangbangers seemed amused by the idea of having captives. They held their guns high, aimed at heads.
Justin and Tami worked at the stove, pouring pancake mix into a pan. “You guys okay?” he asked them, his voice just low enough to go unheard with the loud laughter ringing out.
They both nodded, eyes alertly aimed at their captors.
In the corner, he spotted Cecil crouched, one knee on the floor as Jess rubbed his shoulders. At first, the captain seemed to be sobbing, but after a step closer, he could be seen clutching his stomach in pain.
“Everything okay?” he asked them.
His wife sent him sad and weary eyes, then shook her head.
“Just a little trouble in my belly,” Cecil said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Jess said, “We really should take a look at you just in case.”
The captain said, “I can’t imagine our friends would allow that.”
“I’ll tell them it’s a matter of life and death.”
Aiming sharp eyes at the gangbangers behind him, Cecil answered, “Do these folks look like the compassionate sort to you?”
Nathan yelled, “Shut up over there! And you, fat man! Get back on your feet and back to work.”
Cecil grunted out a compliant “Yes, sir,” then struggled to find his footing.
After a glance behind her, Jess said, “I’m worried about him. Looks like it could be an infection. You saw me operating without sterilizing anything. I’d say anything I put the knife in could be at risk.”
Hatfield took a reflexive look at his hand, noticing nothing unusual—for now.
“I remember seeing some medicine at Jade’s bunker.”
“Lot of good it does us here.”
“We’ll see if there’s something I can do to change that.”
Nathan yelled, “You lovebirds over there better stop with all that whispering and get to work!”
“Yes, sir,” Hatfield answered, looking back with his head respectively low but his eyes searching for a way out.
The stern leader waved someone over. “Zan!” He whispered something into his ear.
The man obediently marched over, grabbed Hatfield by the collar, and yanked toward the door, his pistol trained on his temple. “We’ve decided to break up this happy family! You come with me!”
Once outside, he shoved him down into the garden, then reached to the wall, grabbed the spade leaning against it, and tossed it to him. “Start digging now, and don’t stop until you’re told to stop, got that?”
Hatfield nodded, then got to work.
The guy stood against the wall, arms crossed as the digging began. “Can I ask a question?”
“One question,” he groaned. “That’s all you get.”
“What am I digging for?”
“You are digging because I told you to.”
“But what I’m saying is the garden doesn’t need any more digging, so I need to know why I’m digging so I can get proper—”
The guy pulled the spade from Hatfield’s grip and gave him a hard thwack on the spine, sending him to his knees.
“No more questions and no more talking! Now get back to digging.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, grinding his teeth hard as the pain rippled through him. As he dug, he caught a peek of the gangbanger who was serving as a guard. He sat, leaning against the fence, his head snapping back every few minutes or so. It was hard to tell from this distance, but he seemed to be nodding off. As with many other things about his captors, Hatfield made a note of that.
AFTER ROUGHLY AN HOUR or so of digging, Hatfield was permitted back inside. He sat at the dining table with the other homesteaders, their faces hanging down. No words were exchanged, only a series of troubled glances.
Jess and his kids were dispersed at various places at the table. Vomiting sounds came from the bathroom.