I knew, we were crossing the road, and Arturo was limping forward to our left. Then, it became personal.
We jumped over dead and dying bodies on the way in. Kirk just naturally fell to cleanup duties. His 9mm cracked at anything that was still moving as we made our way into the camp. We took cover behind a spreading oak tree that marked the original western border of the property. Arturo waved from a similar location on the north side. There were still several cannibals on the loose among the tents. Judging from the harsh language and rough voice we were hearing, Eugene was still among the living as well. The plan was to wait until the two groups had done as much damage to each other as possible before we engaged whoever was left.
We heard a diesel engine rattle to life, and Arturo fired an entire clip in that direction. The engine kept running but it was idling. Minutes went by without a single gunshot from the camp. Arturo began to move in, using dead shrubbery for broken cover. Dad took the cue and we proceeded forward. For me, it was all part of the dance by then, but I still had a profound urge to take a leak. Not a fun way to dance.
Quickly we were among the tents, with me trailing Dad and Kirk. I knew we were looking to make sure that Eugene was dead, and to free whoever was being held in the barn-shed. I heard nothing but our feet and a painful moan off to the right. Suddenly, an arm was around my neck and I was hoisted off the ground. My feet tried to run, but only made a few scuffling steps before they lost all purchase and flopped back against whoever was holding me. I dropped my gun by reflex. I made a pitiful squeaking noise as my bladder threatened to give way.
Of course it was Eugene. He called out to my father. “Mr. Carter. Seems like you owe me a son. I think I’ll take this one. How about you boys drop your weapons now?”
Dad turned slowly and let his rifle fall to the ground. Kirk took a few seconds longer. It took a hard elbow from my father before he followed suit. Kirk dropped his handgun and slid the strap of his rifle off his shoulder. The gun made a clattering sound as it hit the ground, butt first. Dad held up his hands in a pleading motion, and started to speak.
“Don’t bother. You should’ve thought about that before you killed my boy,” Eugene said, spraying my ear with his warm spittle. My eyes darted to where I hoped Arturo would be, but he was not in sight. Eugene wrestled around with his right arm until he had his own revolver pressed against my head. His left was still wrapped around my throat.
“Listen, Eugene...” Dad said. “You attacked...”
“I don’t give shit! This is all mine. I found it. I took it. Mine!” Eugene was breathing fast and hard in my ear all of a sudden. I was thinking with unnatural clarity, my senses on overdrive. Apparently, Dad had touched a nerve. Maybe this guy still had a conscience in there somewhere. Then the hammer clicked back, and I decided probably not.
His hand scraped my neck as it slid away to the left. I dropped to the ground without any plan except to hide. I heard a gunshot close enough to set my ear into a ringing reset mode. I heard an impact, a larger impact to the side, and a distant rifle shot thumping hollowly around the valley. I looked to my left and Eugene was down, writhing on the ground and smacking himself repeatedly on the butt. I was confused.
Kirk moved in a blur, kicking the revolver away from Eugene’s hand. Dad grabbed his rifle and pointed it at the man’s head. Kirk was already gone. He had picked up his own weapon and was searching the camp at high speed, just in case anyone else was waiting in ambush. No one living was there.
Eugene was screaming by then, a foul stream of profanity that made my dad wince and twitch, particularly around his trigger finger. In Eugene’s defense, he had good reason. I had no idea where my mother was aiming, but the bullet passed directly through both of Eugene
We jumped over dead and dying bodies on the way in. Kirk just naturally fell to cleanup duties. His 9mm cracked at anything that was still moving as we made our way into the camp. We took cover behind a spreading oak tree that marked the original western border of the property. Arturo waved from a similar location on the north side. There were still several cannibals on the loose among the tents. Judging from the harsh language and rough voice we were hearing, Eugene was still among the living as well. The plan was to wait until the two groups had done as much damage to each other as possible before we engaged whoever was left.
We heard a diesel engine rattle to life, and Arturo fired an entire clip in that direction. The engine kept running but it was idling. Minutes went by without a single gunshot from the camp. Arturo began to move in, using dead shrubbery for broken cover. Dad took the cue and we proceeded forward. For me, it was all part of the dance by then, but I still had a profound urge to take a leak. Not a fun way to dance.
Quickly we were among the tents, with me trailing Dad and Kirk. I knew we were looking to make sure that Eugene was dead, and to free whoever was being held in the barn-shed. I heard nothing but our feet and a painful moan off to the right. Suddenly, an arm was around my neck and I was hoisted off the ground. My feet tried to run, but only made a few scuffling steps before they lost all purchase and flopped back against whoever was holding me. I dropped my gun by reflex. I made a pitiful squeaking noise as my bladder threatened to give way.
Of course it was Eugene. He called out to my father. “Mr. Carter. Seems like you owe me a son. I think I’ll take this one. How about you boys drop your weapons now?”
Dad turned slowly and let his rifle fall to the ground. Kirk took a few seconds longer. It took a hard elbow from my father before he followed suit. Kirk dropped his handgun and slid the strap of his rifle off his shoulder. The gun made a clattering sound as it hit the ground, butt first. Dad held up his hands in a pleading motion, and started to speak.
“Don’t bother. You should’ve thought about that before you killed my boy,” Eugene said, spraying my ear with his warm spittle. My eyes darted to where I hoped Arturo would be, but he was not in sight. Eugene wrestled around with his right arm until he had his own revolver pressed against my head. His left was still wrapped around my throat.
“Listen, Eugene...” Dad said. “You attacked...”
“I don’t give shit! This is all mine. I found it. I took it. Mine!” Eugene was breathing fast and hard in my ear all of a sudden. I was thinking with unnatural clarity, my senses on overdrive. Apparently, Dad had touched a nerve. Maybe this guy still had a conscience in there somewhere. Then the hammer clicked back, and I decided probably not.
His hand scraped my neck as it slid away to the left. I dropped to the ground without any plan except to hide. I heard a gunshot close enough to set my ear into a ringing reset mode. I heard an impact, a larger impact to the side, and a distant rifle shot thumping hollowly around the valley. I looked to my left and Eugene was down, writhing on the ground and smacking himself repeatedly on the butt. I was confused.
Kirk moved in a blur, kicking the revolver away from Eugene’s hand. Dad grabbed his rifle and pointed it at the man’s head. Kirk was already gone. He had picked up his own weapon and was searching the camp at high speed, just in case anyone else was waiting in ambush. No one living was there.
Eugene was screaming by then, a foul stream of profanity that made my dad wince and twitch, particularly around his trigger finger. In Eugene’s defense, he had good reason. I had no idea where my mother was aiming, but the bullet passed directly through both of Eugene
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