Into The Darkness (29 page)

From
around the corner at the front of the house, a man carrying a shotgun emerged.
He was walking toward the barn at a fast pace. The shotgun was pointed halfway
down and the man constantly looked to his left and right, nervously, as he hurried
toward the barn. Kevin tapped Dylan on the shoulder and pointed. He wanted
Dylan to take the shot. Dylan sat with his knees up to aim the rifle, and
wrapped the rifle’s strap around his left forearm as he pressed the stock
tightly into his right shoulder. Dylan followed the man with the rifle’s
sights, suppressed his breathing, and moved the barrel to lead the man as he
aimed. He had just begun to slowly squeeze the trigger when sweat dripped into
his eye. He angrily lowered the rifle and wiped the sweat from his face.

“Damn
it!” Dylan whispered to himself.

The
man was sliding the barn door open to go inside.

“Too
late, he’s inside,” said Kevin.

“Damn
it!” Dylan cursed to himself again. He looked toward the barn with determination.
“I’m going to jump him. He’ll never expect it.” Dylan held his hand up with his
palm toward Kevin. He was signaling him to stay there. Dylan ran toward the
barn as fast as he could and slowed near the entrance. As he crept into the
barn, he heard noises like someone recklessly tossing things around. He entered
the barn with his rifle in position. Instantly he saw the man turn to face him
and raise a shotgun, but not fast enough. Dylan pulled the trigger twice and
the man fell backwards. The holes in the man’s torso were faintly whistling in
rhythm with his rapidly expanding and contracting chest. The whistling turned
to a gurgling noise as the man drowned in his own blood. Dylan kicked the
shotgun away and went to the edge of the barn’s open door. He peeked around the
corner and noticed an open window on the second floor of the house. It had not
been visible from their position in the cornfield. He saw movement in the house
through that window. To his left he could also see Kevin’s position in the
cornfield. Dylan cautiously glanced at the house, and then quickly stepped out
to show Kevin he was safe. He swiftly hid behind the door, only peering far
enough around the corner to see Kevin extend his hand from the corn and wave
back.

Unexpectedly,
he saw Kevin running barefoot toward the house’s cellar doors. Kevin grabbed
the handles, looked around, and disappeared inside.

“Shit.”
Dylan cursed to himself. “What’s he doing?”

Dylan’s
mind raced, and he concluded that Kevin was going to try to sneak up on the
remaining intruder. Kevin would need a distraction, but Dylan did not know what
to do. Almost as soon as Kevin disappeared into the house, Dylan saw a person’s
head at the second-floor window, which was open. A man with a ball cap
sheepishly looked out the window and, after a moment, yelled, “Hey…hey, Billy!
What was that? I thought I heard something. Are you okay?”

Dylan
peered at the man though a crack in the barn door. Two pieces of parallel wood
were warped and separated, allowing a clear view and a gun port for Dylan. He
rested his rifle in the opening and gently touched the trigger. He had the
man’s head in his sights. Dylan shook his head and partially lowered the barrel
of his rifle. He did not know if anyone was behind the man. The bullet could
ricochet or go into another room hurting an innocent person. Dylan angrily
lowered the rifle and stared back through the crack in the door. The man, now
more boldly, was calling for his accomplice. Dylan knew Kevin was in the house.
He knew he could give Kevin the advantage if he could create a distraction. He
looked back at the dead man’s shotgun and then back at the open second floor
window. He judged the distance and made a decision. He would step outside the
barn door. The distance from the house would be too far for a shotgun to reach
with deadly force. Dylan placed his rifle on the ground and stepped outside.
The intruder was so startled that he hit the top of his head on the window,
knocking his hat off. By the time the hat hit the ground, he was back at the
window with his shotgun aimed at Dylan.

Dylan
held his hands up. “We can make a deal,” said Dylan, yelling from the front of
the barn.

“Why
shouldn’t I just kill you now?” said the intruder, still aiming the shotgun at
Dylan.

“I’ve
got your friend. He’s here in the barn.”

“You
son of a bitch! Bring him out here and prove it.” The man was stabbing the air
with his shotgun in Dylan’s direction as he yelled.

Dylan
mumbled to himself, “That’s it. Keep talking. Let Kevin find you. Just keep
looking at me.”

“I
said bring him out here so I can see him!”

“Okay,
relax, I’ll get him.”

Dylan
went into the barn and looked back out through the crack in the door.
Come
on Kevin, where are you? He’s distracted
. Dylan noticed the cellar door
lifting up. He saw Ben’s head appear and look around. He stepped out, holding
the door open, and a woman appeared behind him. He closed the door and they ran
for the cornfield. Dylan shook his head in disbelief as he hid behind the barn
door.
Kevin is still in there
. Dylan turned to look at the body on the
floor. There was a portion of the corpse’s belt that was not soaked with blood.
Dylan grabbed that part of the belt to drag the body outside. He thought to
himself that the home invasion business must be good. This man still weighed a
lot. He must have been getting plenty to eat. Dylan dragged the body across the
gravel floor. The sunlight through the door’s opening illuminated the gravel
dust liberated from the ground. The gravel dust, damp hay, and blood made for a
putrid smell in the barn. Dylan dropped the belt and the limp body hit the
ground. The intruder leaned forward in disbelief. He stared at his partner’s
pale white face, his eyes squinting in confusion, and then realized that the
clothes were soaked in blood. The man dropped to one knee and raised his
shotgun to aim at Dylan. He leaned forward out the window, and just before he
could pull the trigger, Kevin was behind him with his pistol. The intruder
never heard Kevin’s bare feet or the bullet that went through his skull.

Kevin
put the smoking pistol in his pocket and pushed out the limp body hanging from
the second floor window. The body fell on the shotgun that the intruder had
already dropped. The body landed, with a small bounce, in a very contorted
position. If not already dead, the fall would have killed him. Kevin leaned out
the window and yelled toward Dylan. “All clear.” Then he gave a quick wave with
his swollen hand and disappeared back into the house. Dylan wasted no time and
sprinted toward the backdoor just in time to greet Kevin as he exited the
house. Kevin had a gun belt hanging over his shoulder. He stood at the top of
the back steps and looked down at Dylan.

“When
is all this going to end?” asked Kevin.

Dylan
looked back in the direction of the two dead intruders. “Never. Too many bad
people.”

Dylan
motioned for Kevin to come down the steps and then he pointed toward the van.

“Look
at that.” Dylan smiled at the old van. “If that thing has a full tank of gas,
it can get us where we need to go.” Dylan dramatically held up his hand and
crossed his fingers. He went directly toward the front of the van and opened
the driver’s side door. The interior dashboard was cracked and faded from the sun.
The seats were torn open. One section of the seat had a spring exposed. The
inside smelled like mildew. He sat in the dirty driver’s seat and stared at the
instrument panel as he gripped the steering wheel. The dials on the instrument
panel were all pointing down. He needed to determine how full the gas tank was.
The key was still in the ignition, and hanging from the key chain was a lucky
rabbit’s foot. With a turn of the key, the engine roared to life. Dylan pressed
the accelerator quickly to the floor and the engine backfired with a cloud of
smoke.

“What’s
it look like?” asked Kevin.

Dylan
was tapping the fuel gauge with his finger. “Hold on, it’s moving.”

After
a minute of the old engine sputtering and rattling, the needle of the fuel
gauge only rose slightly higher than the empty mark. Dylan turned his head,
looked at Kevin, and shut the engine off.

“It’s
nearly empty. We’d never make it in this thing.”

Dylan
fumbled with the key chain and removed the rabbit’s foot. He tossed it at Kevin
and said, “Here’s some good luck for you.”

Kevin
caught the good luck charm and dangled it briefly in front of his face.
“Thanks, I could use that.” Kevin grinned. “Lately, if it weren’t for bad luck,
I’d have no luck at all,” he said, putting the lucky charm deep into his
pocket.

Dylan
shifted his position in the driver’s seat to directly face Kevin as he stood by
the open driver’s door. He lightly kicked Kevin’s leg and pointed to his
friend’s feet. “Get your boots on. You don’t want to get bitten by a snake.”

Kevin
rolled his eyes and turned to walk toward the cornfield to get his boots.
“Don’t test me, old man. Let’s get going.”

Back
at the campsite, they found Ben with his wife and son, sitting close together.
Joy radiated from their faces as they watched the two men emerge from the
cornfield and advance toward them, unharmed. Kevin’s wife ran toward him and
hugged him tightly, being careful of his still tender and swollen right hand.
Kevin put his arm around her and hugged her back. He slipped the gun belt off
his shoulder and held it up, signaling to Ben that he had retrieved his weapon
from the house. Ben got up and walked toward Kevin. Kevin tossed it to him when
he was halfway there.

“I
bet you don’t forget to keep this with you from now on,” said Kevin, pointing
at Ben’s holstered pistol.

Ben
knew that he had made a mistake by not keeping it with him, even if he was only
going to the neighbor’s farm. He did not hesitate to place the leather holster
around his waist and buckle it tight. Ben’s son walked to his side and stared
at the pistol, touching the handle with curiosity. His wife came to his other
side, and he put his arms around his family. “There is no way I can thank you
enough for what you have done.” Ben cleared his throat. “I know there is no way
we would be here right now if it weren’t for you.”

Dylan’s
attention drifted away from the conversation as he caught a glimpse of the
rafts near the water’s edge. His brow furrowed as he thought of the van parked
behind Ben’s house. Dylan spoke, interrupting the conversation.

“The
van behind your house…it works. The motor runs, we started it,” said Dylan.

Ben
lifted his hands, palms forward, and raised both eyebrows. “It’s yours, buddy.
You just say the word.”

“It’s
a gasoline motor. Do you have gas?” pleaded Dylan. “A full tank of gas could
get us home.”

Ben
cast his eyes lower. “Sorry. All we have is diesel. The neighbors, too.”

Dylan
looked back toward the rafts. He was irritated at how slow this trip has been
and how much time they had lost due to these types of unfortunate
circumstances. The rafts were a way to get home, but he hated how long it was
taking. He had spent a lifetime traveling at highway speeds, and this was a
difficult adjustment. Regardless, Dylan did not want to go back into a warzone
to scavenge gasoline for a van that he was not sure would be reliable
transportation. A breakdown on the road, a roadblock or trap on a highway, all
it would take is one perilous twist of fate, and they would be stuck with no
easy way to continue on, and no convenient source for water. Although the river
was slow, it was sure.

Dylan
looked at Ben, shook his head wearily, and said, “If it weren’t for bad luck,
I’d have no luck at all.”

Kevin
reached deep into his pocket. He retrieved the rabbit’s foot, held it up
briefly for Dylan to see, and then tossed it to him. Dylan snatched it from the
air.

“You
keep it, then. Let me know if it works.”

Dylan
rolled his eyes. He was not superstitious, but he did find humor in Kevin’s
gift.

A
gust of wind blew through the campsite. Ben reached for his hat at the same
instant he realized he was not wearing one. He awkwardly pretended that he had
been intending to scratch his head, and then his hands dropped to his side
again. The gust of wind was strong enough to bring up some dusty dirt, causing
everyone to turn their heads away from it. The sleeping puppy woke, stretched,
and limped toward Ben. It balanced on one good leg and extended its front paws
up toward Ben’s knees. He looked down at the pup. It made him smile. He cradled
the puppy carefully with one arm, extended his hand to Dylan, and thanked him
again for all his help.

“Is
there anything I can do for you before you leave?” asked Ben, gently scratching
the puppy’s neck as he cradled it.

“Nothing
I can think of.” Dylan briefly looked back at the river.

“You
better get going,” said Ben, pointing to the sky. “You’re burning daylight.”

Ben’s
family stood next to him. They watched Dylan, Kevin, and Mary get into the
rafts and push away. Dylan was the last to leave. He deeply missed his family
and was happy to continue the journey. Dylan’s raft headed backward into the
current. He gave one last, quick wave and then used the paddle to correct the
raft’s direction. The three were finally on their way downstream again. Dylan
felt the bulge of the rabbit’s foot in his pocket and pressed his palm against
it.
I’m ready for some good luck now
.