He was brought in last, followed by two soldiers with guns pointed at his back.
Ryder didn’t look at me. His eyes stayed on Paul standing behind me. When the man put a chunky hand on my shoulder and one on Eva’s, I saw red-hot rage explode in Ryder’s eyes. He never looked away from Paul as he was pushed to stand between Gavin and Cash.
“So who’s the leader of this group?” the leader asked, standing at the head of the table with authority.
No one answered him. Eva kept her eyes focused on her lap but me…I stared at the man, hating him with a passion. Who the hell does he think he is coming onto our house and treating us this way? I don’t care if he is military, he has no right! Ever heard of the Fourth Amendment, jerk? Illegal search and seizure, anyone?
The leader waited a second, but no one answered his question. The windows rattling in the wind was his only answer.
“No one’s gonna fess up? Hmmm, interesting?” he said, his tone full of politeness. He sauntered over, pushing Paul out of the way. Standing behind me and Eva, he put a hand on each of our shoulders, his fingers biting and rough. The smell rolling off of him was nauseating. It was something sickly sweet but sweaty. Too much deodorant over an unwashed body.
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to vomit. When his fingers moved up my shoulder to my neck and pressed hard on my throat, I knew his politeness was a sham. Everything about him seemed fake but the danger was real.
I felt fear crawl across my skin like cockroaches scattering up a wall. And just like that nasty bug, this leader was going to be a bitch to get rid of.
His hand left my throat to grasp my elbow. Before I knew what he was doing, he hauled me out of the seat, yanking me up so fast, I gasped.
Eva cried out, reaching for me. Paul immediately pushed her back into the chair, smacking her shoulder hard.
The leader yanked me back, away from the table. I stumbled and tripped over my own feet and his. He held onto me and spun me around to face the others.
“Okay, let’s try this again,” he said, his voice fierce. Reaching up, he touched my braid lovingly, stroking up and down the long plait.
“Who is the leader of this group?” he asked again with politeness.
“We don’t have a leader,” Cash answered, his voice calm, as always.
“All groups have a leader. Someone stronger than the rest. Braver. More willing to die to protect those in the group. Which one of you is that person? The one not afraid of anything? The one willing to put themselves on the line to save…this one,” the leader said, tugging hard on my braid.
My head was jerked back, a cringe crossing my face when the man started wrapping my braid around his fist.
Ryder shifted to his other foot, his hands begging to be wrapped around the man’s neck. I saw his shoulders tighten and the muscles in his arms stiffen. If looks could kill, the leader of this ragtag bunch of men would be dead right now. Pushing up daisies.
“I’m the leader,” Gavin said, stepping forward. “Now let her go.”
I saw Ryder’s teeth clench, his eyes moving to Gavin, looking anything but happy.
“Good, now we’re getting somewhere,” the leader said, shoving me down into a chair. But instead of letting me go, his fist stayed twisted in my hair, pulling at my scalp and bringing tears to my eyes. I couldn’t hold back a yelp when he yanked my head back again, making my neck almost a target for him to wrap his hand around. I didn’t know what would happen next but what did sent shivers down my spine.
“You know what it’s like to have bugs and maggots eat your skin? Burrow deep into your body and snack on you from the inside out?” Ryder said in a deep, baritone voice that sounded like death itself.
No one answered him. It was a question not meant to be answered.
“If you don’t get your fucking hands off of her, you’re going to be six feet under, finding out,” Ryder snarled, peering at the leader with eyes full of dark hatred.
“Touché,” the leader laughed, letting go of my braid and patting the top of my head.
I let out a breath of relief but it was short-lived. I should have known it wasn’t that simple.
“Take care of him, boys,” the leader said in a bored voice, nodding at Ryder.
“NOOOO!” I screamed, jumping up from my chair.
He shoved me back down, knocking the air out of my lungs and making me wince. That’s when Ryder exploded.
Tucking his head he rammed the guy next to him. The man’s breath left him in a whoosh, knocking him back. Ryder’s bound wrists flew up, plowing into another guy’s nose. Blood went flying, the man yelping in surprise. Gavin started to jump into the mix but he was shoved back, a gun appearing in his face.
Ryder’s elbow flew up, his aim centered on the man’s chin beside him. But he never made his mark. The man’s fist connected with Ryder’s jaw, slinging his head back. Ryder recovered quickly and roared, racing forward to bulldoze the guy. The man wasn’t giving up that easily. Pulling back his fist, he planted an uppercut to Ryder’s face then a punch to Ryder’s stomach.
“Ryder! Stop!” I screamed, struggling to get away from the hand holding me in the chair.
Immediately Ryder stilled. His chest rose and fell, breathing hard as he looked at me. One of his eyelids was already swelling, a small cut in his eyebrow adding to the pain.
“Stop,” I pleaded, trying so hard to hold it together. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” I repeated, not wanting him to suffer for me.
“That’s better. Listen to the little lady,” the leader said, chuckling when Ryder glared at him. “Now, why don’t we sit and have a civilized conversation.”
Gavin was shoved into a seat at the table. Ryder, Brody, and Cash stood behind him, Ryder bleeding and pissed.
“First, my name is Frankie. My men and I hail from South Texas. Ain’t at liberty to say where exactly,” the leader said, sitting at the head of the table like he owned the place.
“You’re not military,” Ryder said.
The leader glanced at him, surprised. “Hell son, not only are you full of piss and vinegar but you’re smart as well. I might come to like you after all.” He glanced at me and smiled. “Your girl too.”
I saw Ryder gnash his teeth together and shift to his other foot.
Gavin interrupted, keeping things from getting out of hand again. “You gonna tell us who you are or you gonna sit around and bullshit all day?” he asked with boredom.
The leader stared at Gavin, his smile slipping. I don’t think he liked being talked back to. Too bad. He’s messing with the wrong people. A full minute passed before he spoke again, his smile back in place.
“We’re militia. The finest. We’ve been preparing for something like this for years. People thought we were crazy for training day in and day out.” He snorted, picking at one of his dirty fingernails. “Now those same people are probably dead or dying and we’re alive and thriving. Who’s laughing now?”
I wanted to roll my eyes and snort but I stayed quiet. So, okay, militias could be good. If I remember my fifth grade history class correctly (Mr. Hill was a terrible teacher but I still learned something) militias have saved our ass in the past. During the Revolutionary War and the Civil War loosely formed militias won many of the battles. History even says that most of the military at that time were militia who had no formal military training. They were just everyday folks fighting for their country. But the men standing around the kitchen today struck me as being more like bullies than well-oiled fighting machines.
“So what do you want?” Gavin asked, leaning forward in his seat to eye the leader.
“Everything,” the leader answered, smiling.
Gavin leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s everything?” he asked.
The leader motioned around the kitchen. “Food, water, supplies. You have it, we need it. We can’t fight the damn terrorists on an empty stomach. When we saw your house, out here in the middle of nowhere, we knew,” he shook his finger at G
avin, “we just knew that we had hit pay dirt. Hallelujah!”
“Yeah, well, we need food and water to survive also,” Brody said, jerking his chin up obstinately.
“Understand,” the leader said, nodding his head. “I really do. Hell, if everyone dies off, who are we fighting for anyway?” He laughed at his own joke. “But do you kids even know what’s happening out there?”
When no one answered, he continued. “We’re winning this goddamn war,” he said. “The U.S. is pushing the sons-of-bitches out. We’ve got towns to the south of here clear and we’re working our way up north. The devils have weapons and supplies but we have sheer determination. We’ll survive just like our ancestors did.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “They can’t bring their soldiers over here fast enough for us to put them in the ground.”
“Who are ‘they’?” Cash asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
The man shrugged, his jacket pulling taut. “On paper? The Middle East and North Korea. But the big boys down in D.C. believe that with the manpower and technology that hit us, it’s really Russia and China behind it all.”
If what this man was saying was true, the war was bigger than we thought. We were talking World War III. Us against half the world.
“But we’re winning, folks,” he said, shrugging. “The government is working on getting the power back up. We’ve got other nations coming in to help us. We’re fighting the invaders with everything we got. Sons of bitches dare set foot on our soil? We take them out. Always have. Always will.”
We were silent, letting the information sink in. We’re winning? I didn’t want to get my hopes up based on what a bunch of rogue militia said, but it was impossible not to hope when we were cold and hungry.
“That’s why we need supplies. Think of it as donating to a good cause,” the leader added, his grin widening. Suddenly his smile slipped off of his face and his voice turning serious. “Now, boys, take it all. Empty the place. The barn too.”
The soldiers flew into action, opening cabinets and yanking things out. Cans, containers of food, bottles of sterilized water. It was all set on the table. Everything we owned. A few of the men ran outside. They’re going to find the canned meat.
Eva looked over at me, her eyes round and full of tears. I saw Janice shaking, her eyes glued straight ahead. Cash and Ryder stood motionless, watching as the men came and went from the kitchen, putting everything they found on the table.
Gauze, Band-Aids, a bottle of rubbing alcohol. It was all sitting there. I was glad I had hidden some of my things beneath the bed. Call it a hunch or call it being neurotic but Ryder had made me hide items around the house. It was almost like he had a feeling something dire was going to happen.
After what seemed like forever, the soldiers were done. Cans of meat and vegetables sat on the table along with containers of dried beans and rice, a few candles, some of our medical supplies, and a usable flashlight. What would we do now?
“Load it up, boys,” the leader told his men, signaling for them to head out.
The men grabbed armfuls of supplies and started carrying them outside. I watched as our things disappeared like they had never existed. Gone in a blink of an eye.
Before walking out the door, the leader stopped and turned to face us.
“By the way, we’re taking any gasoline you have left. And don’t try to follow us or you will regret it.” With one more pointed stare, he saluted us, the move a parting insult from someone just playing soldier.
“Your country appreciates your support,” he said before walking out the door. The rest of his men followed. Paul was the last to leave, his eyes lingering on Ryder with hate.
As soon as the door slammed shut, everyone flew into action. Brody ran to Eva, gathering her in his arms. Janice put her face in her hands, sobs shaking her body. Cash withdrew a knife from his boot (why am I not surprised he had something hidden?) while Gavin jumped out of his chair, sliding it across the floor. They both raced to the back door, swinging it open to watch the soldiers leave. The sound of revving engines roared through the house, a noise I hadn’t heard in a while.
I got to my feet, going to Ryder.
He stared at me, his stance wide and the muscles of his arms pulled taut. His face looked terrible, cuts and bruises appearing everywhere. Blood spotted his shirt and dripped from his nose. Watching me approach, he looked wary. His hands were still tied in front of him, the rope cutting into his skin.
Stopping by him, I bent over to lift one leg of my jeans. The top of my head brushed against his thigh. I heard him inhale swiftly.
Ignoring his reaction, I reached inside my sock, pulling out a small pocketknife. Flipping it open, I straightened up, the small blade in my hand.
Ryder looked down at the knife in my hand. “You had that on you the whole time, Maddie? I swear, do you know what they would have done if they found it?” he scowled, angry.
Lifting his bound wrists, I started sawing away at the rope, the small blade not making much difference.
“Cool it, Ryder, I’m fine,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on what I was doing.
But I wasn’t fine. As Ryder towered over me, tears splashed down my cheeks. He was bleeding. I was shaking. We’re going to starve. We had very little food. Nothing except what was in Roger and Janice’s safe room. The meat we had canned and the extra emergency stash of food was all that was left. It would never be enough for eight people.
We’re in trouble.
As I sawed at the rope, one of my tears fell, landing on Ryder’s wrist. He flinched when another one hit his hand.
“Maddie?”
I looked up, sniffing. Using the back of the hand holding the knife, I swiped my nose. It was a very unladylike gesture but manners were not high on my list at that moment.
“I’m fine,” I snapped, a little too harshly as tears drowned my eyes. “I just want to get you out of this damn rope. You’re bleeding,” I said, sawing the rope faster.
“Don’t worry, I don’t need you to help me,” Ryder grumbled, pulling his bound wrists out of my grasp.
I felt pain slice through me, cutting me deep. On a normal day I might have told him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine but this wasn’t a normal day. We had been robbed and he had been beaten. He was hurt and I was scared. There was nothing normal left in this world.
I couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped between my pale lips. When another one slipped out, all the anger disappeared from Ryder’s face.
“Somebody untie me!” he roared.
Brody rushed over to Ryder’s side, his bowie knife ready. Standing over me, Ryder held out his hands, watching as Brody’s knife easily sliced through the rope around his wrists. When he was free, Ryder wrapped his arms around me.
He didn’t say anything, he just held me.
That’s all I needed. Like a healing balm to my soul, his arms gave me peace. But then the bubble burst.
“Let’s go, Ryder!” Gavin yelled from the backdoor. “We need to go check on Dad!”
Ryder’s back stiffened. I think hearing Gavin’s voice brought everything back to him. The kiss. The anger. Our fight.
His arms dropped away from me. Taking a step back, the coldness had returned to his eyes.
Without another word Ryder walked away, but not before his body brushed against mine, letting me know he wasn’t done with me yet.
I closed my eyes, the sensation of him against me too much. The feeling of him walking away from me, depressing. The knowledge that we had very little food, indescribable.
Chapter Twenty–Five
Hunger. It was just one of many things that could have broken me. Death. Violence. Grief and sadness. They had tried to conquer me and lost. Now, I faced another enemy, one that would torture before it killed. Hunger, an ugly creature that gnawed at a person’s stomach. A symptom of the starving.
Things looked bleak. There was enough food for a month, maybe two if we really did without, but after that, we were going to
become very hungry. When that happened, the game changed. Our reality would be thrown a fastball. One I hoped we could catch.
Roger showed up minutes after the militia left, distraught and desperate to make sure everyone was okay. The men had cleaned out their supplies also, even taking some bedding and basic household goods. Thankfully, they hadn’t found the secret stash of food hidden beneath Janice and Roger’s barn floor. It was our saving grace, the little safe room stuffed with food in preparation for emergencies just like this. Buckets of rice and beans. Cans of food and packages of dried meat and fruits. It wouldn’t last forever but at least we had something. Not many people in the country could say that.
Ryder avoided me like the plague the rest of the day, letting his mom patch him up his cuts instead. I didn’t let him see how much that hurt, but more than anything I was angry. Mad that the men took our supplies. Angry that Ryder was back to being standoffish.
It was dark, the cold trying to push itself into the house when I sat down at the table for dinner. Brody, Cash, and Eva were already seated, silently eating the chicken soup that Janice had made earlier, using only canned chicken and water. It was nice and hot, not exactly the best soup I had ever tasted, but what was the old saying? ‘Beggars can’t be choosers?’ Pretty soon, we might be the beggars.
No one spoke as we ate, everyone depressed and worried about our situation. I stirred my tiny bowl of soup, watching as the steam rose and disappeared in the kerosene light. Lifting a spoonful to my mouth, I wondered how many dinners like this we would have in the future - water seasoned with whatever we had on stock.
I glanced up when Ryder sat down across from me, avoiding looking my direction. I decided to do the same. I didn’t want to see the disgust in his eyes anyway.
Gavin took the only empty chair left – the one right next to me. His arm rubbed against mine every few seconds since we were all crowded around the table. I scooted over to give him more room and snuck a peek at Ryder.
His face was bruised and one eye was swollen from fighting with the men. He looked dangerous and pissed off mad. So how come I want to grab him and haul him to bed? Clearing my throat I forced my attention back to my soup.