Not Alone: The Beginning (The Fighter Series Book 1) Read online

  Jack slipped through the window, by passing the worn out door. Even in dark, the house felt depressing. He could feel the thick layer of sand under his feet, the floor moaning underweight. Jack retrieved the second pistol from its holster.

  “This is a hell hole.” He said softly.

  The destroyed master bedroom was empty, but the child’s room, robbed of anything cheery, drowned in an eerie shadow. Taking his light Jack saw a small form of what used to be a child. He cursed under his breath staring at the rotting teddy bear clutched under her arm. Disintegrating on her body, the dress half-eaten by moths and body decay lacked color while what was left of the bones protruded through leathery skin. He instantly thought of Lily. He caught a glimpse of Shay who closed her eyes and looked away.

  “Shit.” Jack swore under his breath.

  Jack didn’t want to forget. It was drove him to the next mission. The images convinced him to find justice for both the living and the dead. There were many who died before this child and there would be many more after her. They found no other bodies in the house. The child, left having to defend herself deep into the nights and into the early mornings, had died alone.

  “Coming up on you.” Blake said. “A few of those people haven’t been dead all that long.”

  “Markers.” Shay said. “They sometimes wonder through. The men use them to hunt with.”

  “Take them hunting?” Matt looked at her funny. Shay didn’t answer. “What for coyotes?”

  “No. They hunt the men, women or children. Whatever they can get.”

  “I’m surprised why?” Matt said. “Jesus.”

  The little town was a graveyard of both humans and history. They moved further into town stepping careful to avoid broken glass and debris. Their eyes, having adjusted to the dark, could see that cars and trucks from the 50’s were parked strategically as roadblocks in the main streets. Mannequins took on an appearance of people though oddly dressed, Marylyn Monroe included. Warped ply boards spray-painted “NO TRESPASSING” hid wood riddled with bullet holes. The iconic gas pumps remained, but were dismantled and faded. Hundreds of fragmented signs waved in the wind humming in a chorus of creaks and moans. Because it was a blast of the past to begin with, the abandonment of human life made for an eerie combination, holocaustic in nature.

  Shay felt a slight hesitation before stepping out of the house. She’d been here only a week ago but seeing it now made her feel even more terrified.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “What do you think?” Blake stepped in next to where Jack stopped. Jack looked over at him indicating to switch to private channel so they could talk amongst themselves.

  “I think we find ourselves a ride to the house, get the women and Jonah.” Jack said. If anyone’s down here and they have communication, they’ll head that way.”

  “Right into a firestorm.” Blake said. “Shit, it’s starting to snow.”

  “Maybe the cold is keeping them in for the night. Might be to our advantage.”

  “You think they got something we can drive that’ll hold that many people.” Blake looked through the darkness. “So far all I’ve seen are relics.”

  “There’ll be a few rigs parked up there. Dirt road most of the way.” Shay said from behind them. Jack failed to hear her footfalls. “If you like classics there’s a beauty in the garage but it’ll only hold three people at the max.” She paused. “You can speak freely. I realize you’re here to help. I won’t botch that up.”

  Jack nodded switching his radio over. “Grab the hummer and pick us up. Copy.”

  “Affirmative. Nice night for a run. Copy.”

  Blake grinned, hearing Dan fall back and take off in the opposite direction. “Man’s a beast.”

  “Thanks.” Dan said.

  Twenty minutes later, they were rolling out of Seligman toward the I-40 West. Uncertain, Shay gave Jack directions. When she saw the turnoff for Anvil Rock rd., she had her bearings.

  “We’re close.”

  “Which way?” Jack asked.

  “Go right. It’s a few miles up.” Shay whispered through the darkness. Further, up the road, Jack found a spot to pull off. It was beginning to snow hard and soon his tire tracks would disappear. They geared up and hiked in the rest of the way leaving Dan to watch their backs, coming and going.

  “There.” Breathless, Shay stepped in close to Jack.

  “Off the grid.” Blake said from behind.

  The log home was huge, extravagant and isolated from the outside world. An eight-foot fence framed the perimeter, topped with razor wire. Surrounded by high desert timber and steep rock cliffs, the house was a perfect get-a-way for someone wanting privacy. To the side of the house was a helicopter pad minus the helicopter.

  “A place like this is gotta have security cameras.” Matt said, setting his pack down beside Jack. “If they’ve got generators they’ve got live feed.” Hidden several hundred feet from the house behind a large mound of boulders and trees, they waited.

  “One guy is supposed to monitor the cameras, but no one does.” Shay whispered.

  “Pretty quiet.” Jack said. There was no movement coming from the house. “No vehicles.”

  “They park in the garage on the other side,” Shay’s voice quivered. “They play poker and drink until their stupid.”

  Jack raised his glasses to get a better look. “Good, let them drink a little more. We go at midnight.”

  “I can see why they’ve gotten away with this for so long.” Blake said.

  “I’d like to know what’s on the other side.”

  “Okay old man”, Blake teased Jack. “Let us younger guys do it. You gotta be on the tired side. Right Matt?”

  “You need to rest.” Matt replied.

  “Tired my ass. I’m just getting started.” Jack responded.

  “Better pull out your big boy skirt.” Blake tossed Jack a punch.

  “Can you two do this on another day,” Shay whispered.

  “Sorry. We’ll meet you back here by eleven.” Blake said looking down at his watch.

  “Desert Tango Charlie this is Desert Three.” Matt said looking back at Shay and Jack. “Can you read me? Copy.”

  “Desert Four, Check.” Dan’s voice crackled.

  “Big boy skirt,” Blake pointed to Jack as he disappeared into the timber.

  Blake and Matt gave small details of the property and house as he and Matt circled the compound. Close to eleven, they were both heading back to their meeting point.

  “You boys close?” Jack said.

  “Behind you,” Matt said.

  “Two minutes out,” Blake responded, but he was back with the team within one. “Three floors. Five bedrooms maybe six, three baths, two living rooms. Lights are on in the game room. They’ve looped razor wire around the perimeter. The front gate is locked as well as the two side ones. The back gate is unlocked, but faces two sliding glass windows.” Blake took off his gloves unwinding a bloodied piece of cloth off his arm.

  “What happened?” Shay asked, moving to look at Blake’s arm.

  “Hooked up with a wild boar.” Blake smiled at Jack.

  Shay grabbed bottled water rinsing off the wound. “Right.”

  “Got me pretty good. Son of a bitch came right at me.” Blake winked at Shay.

  “Put some of this on it.” Jack said, tossing a small flask to Shay. “Is the problem solved?”

  Blake nodded. “They’ve got a few traps set out. There’s a side door off to the left. That’d be a good way for us to go in.”

  “This is going to hurt.” Shay said.

  Blake smiled. Shay opened the flask and poured the alcohol onto the wound. Blake never flinched. She rummaged through Jack’s backpack and pulled out a t-shirt. Before he could argue, she was ripping it into strips. She wound the material tight around Blake’s arm.

  “You brought Whiskey with you Jack, but not a first aid kit?” Blake leaned over the backpack, attempting to look in it. “What else is in there?”


  “First Aid kit is in the Hummer and you can thank me later for the whiskey.” Jack said. “Hope there was no rust on that wire.”

  “The road looks good, but rough. Another smaller house sits lower down on the south side. It looks like a mother-in-law house.” Matt said. “There’s no easy way down.”

  “How did I miss the other house?” Blake asked.

  “It’s a square thing with a roof and pretty hard to miss,” Matt chided. “There both occupied.”

  “We hit them both at the same time.” Jack said.

  Jack looked at Matt, “You and Shay take the lower house. Blake and I’ll take the main house. Whoever finds Jonah needs to send for Dan. Copy that?” Jack asked.

  “Copy.” Dan said.

  “Meet us back at the main house for some housecleaning.” Jack glanced over at Shay. “If we tell you to go, you make for the road until Dan finds you. Don’t play hero.”

  “I won’t play hero.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “I bet that was heavy.” Jack said as Blake pulled a set of lock cutters from his bag.

  “Bet your glad I brought them.” Blake replied.

  They did a second check on their weapons, Blake holding close his Smith and Wesson M&P 15 Tactical. Blake dropped the lock with one cut. Pulling out a miniature can of w-d 40; he sprayed the hinges of the gate. In different circumstances, Jack would’ve teased him about the W-D 40, but the gate swung open without sound. Blake would be entering house first to secure it.

  “Honey, I’m home.” Matt’s said softly.

  Jack and Blake had chosen to enter the door most hidden. Without outside lights, they remained unseen entering unnoticed. Voices, stale cigars, cigarettes and booze taxed the dry air. The lighting was dim and most likely fed from generators somewhere outside the house.

  “You son...a bitch Larry! The…this dark haired one is mine…for tonight.”

  “Have another drink asshole.” Glass shattered. “Sit down...hon...ey. I don’t bite.” A woman cried out.

  “There’s plenty to go around you idiots!”

  Blake started to move forward, but Jack put a hand to his shoulder. He didn’t want the kid going off half-cocked. They’d recover the women, Terra included.

  “Toss me a bottle. I’ll wait for fresh meat.” Words slurred.

  Jack held up three fingers indicating three different voices.

  “Don’t count on it.” A loud crash sounded and then more laughter. “He was pretty pissed off when Grant didn’t come back with his bitch.”

  “I thought he was gonna pop a vessel.” One shouted out. A round of laughter broke out again. The voices muffled and drinking ensued.

  “He’ll find…her.” One of them slurred. “He was head…ed in the right direction.”

  Jack held up four fingers to Blake. Then he searched the smoke filled room from afar. “Ringo’s not here.” Jack whispered into his mic. Ringo was out head hunting and the head was right in his palace. “We go on three.”

  They crossed the line of light and darkness at the same time. There was a moment of complete surprise as the men at the poker table glanced up at Jack and Blake as if they were one of those mannequins out on their streets. Side by side, they stood four out of the five men too shocked and drunk to react. One dozed in the corner still unaware.

  “Room for one more?” Jack said.

  As if a switch turned on in their heads, drunk and slow, the men turned on Blake and Jack. Cards fell, cigars and drinks dropped and chairs toppled as men lunged in all directions. Knocking over the card table, they grabbed for their guns. The woman, forced to sit on one of the men’s lap, fought to escape her captors grasp. With her screaming, the sleeping man came too and dove for the floor. Chairs splintered hitting the wood flooring and ripped apart from the first spray of artillery that cracked through the room. Money and blood splattered the floor. Jack dodged and then dipped down taking cover behind the bar. He waited for a pause in gunfire and when it came, he methodically chose his targets carefully, patiently waiting for slightest of exposure.

  A man too drunk to run stumbled across the room shooting sporadically until catching one of Jack’s bullets center mass in the chest. Probably numb to the end, he fell with a thud.

  “One down.” Jack said.

  Jack crawled to the other end of the bar. He slid to the doorway leading to the living room. Wood exploded overhead, sending shards of oversized toothpicks into the air like tiny missiles. Jack fired multiple shots into the doorway and to his left, which detonated into a flurry of return gunfire. The men were complacent, unprepared for the likes of Jack and Blake who’d come equipped to kick some ass.

  When Blake had Jack in sight, he turned and started unloading the M&P in the direction of the thugs. When the repercussion of the shots simmered, it left the distinct smell of gunpowder, smoke and metal to tell the tale.

  “Four down.” Blake said,

  “We’re not so lucky.” Jack replied,

  Four more, half-dressed armed, men staggered in the room from another part of the house. Jack swung away from the doorway and bolted across the room. He grabbed a hold of the girl curled up in the corner and pulled her toward him. Then with an uncanny sense of control, Jack fired. The high-pitched “pop, pop, pop” echoed followed by a thump.

  “Stay with me,” Jack whispered to the girl. He glanced at Blake.

  “Impressive,” Blake said calmly.

  “I’m just warming up.” Jack replied, assessing the situation. No more men entered the room, but Jack was thinking there were more. “Are there any more?” he asked the girl. She nodded. They’d have to go looking for them.

  “We have Jonah.” Matt’s voice cracked through their earpieces.

  “We’re not clear. Anyone hit?” Jack asked.

  “I am.” Matt replied. “But don’t come for me, get them all out.”

  “Negative.” Jack stated. “Stay put, we’ll come get you.”

  “Keep going.”

  “Send the bus.” Jack said.

  “Copy,” Dan said. “Hang in there Coop.”

  “Let’s finish this.” Blake said.

  “Copy that.” Jack turned to the woman.

  “Follow the road. Someone will pick you up. Do you understand?

  She nodded tears staining her fear filled face. Before Jack had a chance to ask her where the women were, she bolted out the front door.

  The card table was smoldering filling the broken room with a toxic smoke feeding off shattered debris. Jack grabbed a container of water and tried to douse out the flame. More smoke.

  “Shit.” He said tossing the plastic jug. Blake moved in to help, but Jack stopped him. “Leave it.”

  They did some quick house sweeping, clearing each room individually. By the time they reached the master bedroom, things had suddenly become eerily quiet. The room was the size of a studio apartment with three oversized sliding glass doors leading to a wraparound deck facing westward. Beyond the glass was an abyss of unknown. Jack skimmed the wall to one of the doors and then slid it open. The deck was twenty-five feet wide and unknown storied high. In the daylight, he assumed it was one hell of a view.

  Jack caught sight of the movement even through the obscurity of light; he slid back inside raising a finger to Blake. The silhouette reappeared unaware of their location. Jack was ready for him. Ringo’s man slipped through the slider drawing his pistol in full stride. Jack swept his forearm up and across the man’s throat, pressing him backward. Then Jack squeezed tapping into the racing blood flow of the man’s carotid artery. With his free hand, he swept the gun from the man’s hand. Blake grabbed it up.

  “How many more?” Jack whispered feeling his heartbeat under his fingertips. Silence. Jack pulled him to the edge of the rail and the man squirmed. Small puffs of air shot from his victim’s mouth.

  “Go…to…hell.” Ringo’s man said.

  “No can do.” Jack said. “Not tonight. Where’s Ringo?”

  The man moved his lips, but his
voice caught in his compressed throat.

  “Jack.” Blake stepped forward facing the man with his M&P. “He can’t talk.”

  Jack loosened his hold. The man’s body relaxed. There was a brief moment of nothingness and then, all hell broke loose. An elbow darted backward into Jack’s ribcage, the man landing a hard punch. Jack felt the air leave his lungs. Blake was prepared to shoot, but Jack waved him off. Standing his ground Ringo’s man invited Jack to fight.

  “That’s not going to be fair.” Jack glanced at the knife now in the man’s hand.

  “Make it fair.” The man said.

  “I don’t have time.” Jack replied.

  “You took my gun.”

  Jack lifted his favorite pistol rolling it over from side to side. “Nighthawk Talon .45 the perfect weapon for creatures of the night, men included.”

  Blake set the man’s gun on the deck just far enough away he’d have to reach to retrieve it. “Now it’s fair.” Blake said. “Never bring a knife to a gun fight.”

  The man rolled the knife over in his hand, but Jack saw he was looking to the gun. “Let’s see what you got asshole.”

  Jack was silent. The smell of cheap whiskey and stench old cigarettes wafted his way. While the man’s eyes darted from the tip of the knife to his pistol, Jack stood unmoving and without expression. He could easily end it all right now. This was a classic poker move. Would he hold them or fold them to win? Threatening with the knife, the man would go after his gun in the end, the knife never entering the equation.

  “Your move.” Jack said.

  Jack saw the slight movement and then the man dove landing on one knee but sliding across the wood decking for his weapon. Overestimating his speed, he overshot his stopping ability, grabbed for the gun shoving it forward as he slid towards the rail. The gun went midair and then disappeared below. Realizing his mistake, the man rolled to his side.

  “Son of a bitch.” Awkward like, the man retrieved a concealed pistol from under his pant leg and then leapt to his feet.