Chapter 4: Under Fire

  "MARK!"

  Lee’s voice tore through the sudden, terrifying quiet of the woods. He lunged out of the farm's open maintenance gate, grabbing Mark by the collar of his shirt as the ex-military man writhed in the dirt, clutching the wooden arrow buried deep in his left shoulder.

  THWACK.

  A second arrow whistled out of the dark tree line, burying itself into the heavy wooden gatepost inches from Lee’s head.

  "Get up! Get up!" Lee roared, hauling Mark to his feet.

  "I can't—my arm!" Mark screamed. Blood poured down his sleeve, instantly soaking his hands. He stumbled, his knees buckling, almost dragging them both back down into the dirt.

  From the shadows of the pines, a gunshot rang out.

  CRACK. A bullet chewed up the dirt right next to Lee’s boots. The bandits weren't just using bows; they had firearms, and they were advancing.

  "Behind the tractor!" Lee yelled.

  Just outside the fence line sat a rusted, heavy John Deere tractor. Lee practically threw Mark behind the massive, mud-caked rear tire just as a barrage of gunfire and arrows rained down on them. The metal of the tractor pinged and sparked violently as bullets struck the heavy engine block.

  Lee ducked hard, pressing his back against the rubber tire. Mark was on the ground, hyperventilating, his face turning a pale, sickly white from the shock and blood loss.

  "Mark, look at me! I need your rifle!" Lee demanded, holding his hand out.

  Mark unslung the hunting rifle with his good arm, groaning in agony as he shoved it toward Lee.

  Lee racked the bolt, popped his head over the hood of the tractor, and fired blindly into the woods. He couldn't see the shooters—just the quick flashes of muzzles and moving shadows in the deep brush. He fired twice more, forcing the bandits to duck back into cover.

  "Andy!" Lee screamed over his shoulder toward the farm. "ANDY! WE NEED HELP!"

  "Push!" Mark gasped, gripping the axle of the tractor with his uninjured hand, his teeth gritted in pain. "We have to use it as cover! Push it back to the gate!"

  Lee threw his shoulder against the rusted grill of the tractor. He dug his boots deep into the dirt and pushed with everything he had. The heavy machine groaned, the massive tires rolling backward an inch at a time.

  THUNK. PING.

  Arrows and bullets rained against the other side of the tractor as Lee and Mark slowly, agonizingly backed their way toward the open maintenance gate. Every step was a fight for survival. Mark was leaving a thick, terrifying trail of dark blood in the dirt.

  Click. "I'm empty!" Lee yelled, the rifle running dry.

  Suddenly, the front door of the farmhouse kicked open.

  Danny St. John sprinted out onto the grass, his scoped hunting rifle pressed tight to his shoulder. He didn't hesitate. He took aim at the tree line and unleashed a deafening, rapid volley of suppressive fire.

  "Get him inside!" Danny yelled over the gunfire.

  Lee gave the tractor one final, massive shove, clearing the gateway. He grabbed Mark by the belt and dragged him backward onto the grass of the dairy farm.

  "Andy, the juice! Hit the juice!" Danny roared, firing two more shots into the trees.

  From the utility shed, Andy slammed the heavy breaker switch. A loud, mechanical CLUNK echoed across the farm, followed instantly by the violent, buzzing hum of the electric fence powering back on.

  Danny slammed the wooden maintenance gate shut, locking the heavy padlock tight just as the deadly current rushed through the metal chain-link.

  They were safe. But Mark was dying.

  "Oh, my sweet Lord in heaven!"

  Brenda St. John rushed out of the farmhouse, an apron still tied around her waist. She took one look at Mark bleeding out in the grass and dropped to her knees beside him. She didn't panic. Her face was an unsettling mask of complete calm and focus.

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  "Don't pull it out!" Brenda ordered sharply, slapping Lee’s hands away from the arrow shaft. "If you pull it, he'll bleed to death right here on my lawn. Andy! Get this man inside, right now! Bring him to the spare bedroom upstairs!"

  Andy slung his rifle over his shoulder and rushed over. Together, Lee and Andy hoisted Mark into the air. Mark was fading fast, his eyes rolling back in his head as they carried him up the porch steps and into the beautiful, pristine farmhouse.

  "I've got him, Lee. I've got him," Brenda said soothingly, ushering them inside. "I have medical supplies upstairs. I will stitch him right up. You stay down here."

  Lee stood alone in the quiet, antique-filled living room. His chest was heaving, the adrenaline still violently shaking his hands. He looked down at his shirt, completely soaked in Mark's blood.

  "Lee?"

  The familiar, tense voice came from outside.

  Lee spun around and walked back out the screen door onto the front porch. Standing in the dirt driveway, staring in absolute shock at the blood smeared across the pristine green grass, was the rest of the Motor Inn group.

  Kenny, Katjaa, Duck, Clementine, Lilly, and Larry had arrived. They were carrying their overnight bags, drawn by the promise of food and safety.

  "Where are Carley and Ben?" Lee asked, wiping the sweat from his eyes, unintentionally smearing blood across his forehead.

  "We left them behind to guard the Motor Inn. We couldn't leave our home base completely unarmed," Lilly said, dropping her heavy duffel bag in the dirt. Her eyes locked onto the blood on the lawn, then up to Lee. "Lee... what the hell just happened? Where is Mark?"

  "Bandits in the woods," Lee said breathlessly. "They ambushed us while we were clearing the fence. They shot him. Arrow to the shoulder."

  "I knew it!" Larry roared, his massive face instantly turning a dangerous shade of purple. He threw his bag to the ground. "I told you this was a trap! You brought us out here to get slaughtered!"

  "Dad, calm down!" Lilly snapped, grabbing his arm as the giant man gripped his chest.

  "Are you kidding me, Larry?" Kenny exploded, stepping right up to the older man. "You voted for this back at the Motor Inn! You wanted the food just as bad as the rest of us! Don't go changing sides and acting like you knew better just because things got ugly!"

  "I didn't vote to get a damn arrow in my back, you redneck idiot!" Larry spat back, towering over Kenny. "If we had stayed behind our walls—"

  "We'd have starved to death by Tuesday!" Kenny yelled back, pointing a finger in Larry's chest.

  As Kenny and Larry continued to scream at each other in the middle of the driveway, Lee looked down.

  Clementine was standing perfectly still a few feet away. She was clutching her teddy bear tight against her chest, her wide, golden eyes locked onto the fresh, dark blood coating Lee's hands and shirt. She looked absolutely terrified.

  Lee immediately tuned out the yelling adults. He knelt down in the dirt, putting himself at eye level with her. He made sure to keep his bloody hands pulled back, resting them on his knees so he wouldn't get any on her clothes.

  "Hey," Lee said softly, his voice a steady, calming anchor in the chaos. "I'm okay, Clem. It's not my blood."

  "Is Mark going to die?" Clementine whispered, her voice trembling.

  Before Lee could answer, the screen door of the farmhouse squeaked open, cutting through the shouting match in the yard.

  Andy stepped out onto the porch, wiping his hands on a clean rag. He looked exhausted, but he offered a reassuring, warm smile to the panicked group.

  "Whoa, hey now, let's keep the yelling to a minimum," Andy called out smoothly, raising his hands. "The deaders in the woods have good ears. No need to ring the dinner bell for 'em."

  "How is he?" Lee asked, standing up.

  "Momma's got the bleeding stopped," Andy nodded confidently. "Got the arrow out clean, stitched him up, and gave him some heavy painkillers we had saved. He's passed out cold, but he's gonna pull through."

  A collective sigh of relief washed over the group. Even Larry stopped scowling for a second, loosening his grip on his chest.

  "Look, I am so sorry about that rough welcome," Andy sighed, walking down the steps. "Those bandits have been testing our fences for weeks. But listen... Momma is cooking up a storm in there. Why don't you folks get your bags settled? There's a water pump around the back of the house to wash that blood off."

  "Food sounds real good right about now," Kenny admitted, the fight completely draining out of him as his stomach growled.

  As the group started to disperse, Lee looked back down at Clementine. The lingering fear was still right at the surface of her eyes.

  "Hey," Lee smiled gently, pointing across the yard. "Remember what I promised you?"

  Clementine followed his finger. Sitting near the edge of the porch was the wooden swing set, standing tall and sturdy.

  "I fixed it up while we were waiting for you to get here," Lee told her. "Why don't you go try it out?"

  A tiny, genuine smile broke through the terror on Clementine's face. She ran over, climbing onto the wooden seat and gently kicking her legs to start swinging. For a brief, beautiful moment, she just looked like a normal kid playing in a normal backyard.

  "You're a good dad," Andy noted, standing beside Lee and watching her.

  "Just trying to keep her distracted," Lee muttered.

  "Well, wash up, take a breather. I need to go check the rear generators, make sure those bandits didn't damage anything else while the power was down," Andy said, clapping Lee on the shoulder before walking off toward the utility shed.

  Lee stood alone in the courtyard.

  The sun was starting to set, casting long, golden shadows across the pristine green grass. The smell of dinner baking in the farmhouse was incredible. The electric fence was humming a protective tune. Clementine was safe on the swings.

  But as Lee walked toward the water pump to wash Mark's blood off his hands, his eyes drifted toward the massive red barn at the back of the property.

  It was completely silent. And wrapped around the heavy wooden handles of the barn doors was a massive, industrial-grade steel chain, locked tight with a heavy padlock.

  If this farm is so safe, Lee thought, the knot of paranoia tightening in his stomach, what the hell are they locking up so tightly on the inside?

  End of Chapter 4

  Lee just survived a brutal firefight, Mark is bleeding out upstairs, and the St. John family seems a little too calm. But the biggest red flag? That massive, heavily padlocked red barn at the back of the property. What do you think they are hiding inside?