Desperate Times (35 page)

“Why would they do this?” asked Jimmy. “What
did they possibly have to gain?”

Burt reached under the seat and began to pull
out the loaded clips. He handed them to Jimmy and Jon who stowed
them inside their backpacks. They then slung the heavy packs over
their shoulders. Burt had borrowed one of Ken’s old hunting
jackets. The tan jacket was lightweight and fit snugly around his
shoulders. He filled the four large pockets with the six remaining
clips. He then checked his rifle.

They began to hike out, staying close to the
trees at the edge of the driveway. Jon led the way, followed by
Jimmy. Burt brought up the rear. They paused at the highway and
quickly crossed into the woods. They spread out inside the pine
forest, moving slowly and silently toward the large rocks that
signaled where their ascent would begin. They slung their rifles
over their shoulders and climbed the same rock formations they had
the day before. Burt did his best to keep up, pausing every now and
then to catch his breath. They reached the top and Jimmy checked
his watch. It was just after three. Jon peered over the edge while
Jimmy held out a hand to Burt, helping him up the final step to the
top.

“Thanks,” he said. “This getting old crap is
for the birds. I hate it.”

“Quiet,” whispered Jon. “There’s something
going on down there.”

Jimmy moved next to Jon and peered down over
the rock. Burt followed. From where they stood, they looked
directly over the park. Jimmy cringed. The little park was the size
of a city block and the street was lined with motorcycles. The
Devils were there and there were many more than the group that he’d
run into earlier. Jimmy could count close to sixty motorcycles
parked there.

“Son of a bitch,” whispered Burt.

“There goes that idea,” said Jon. “We’d
better get out of here.”

“Shit,” muttered Jimmy. “I hate those guys.
What are they doing down there?”

“I can’t tell,” said Jon. “They’re having a
party or something.”

“Funny that they’d be all bunched together
like that,” said Burt. “You must be right.”

“What’s that?” said Jimmy. “Off to their
right, hanging in that tree?”

“I can’t make it out,” said Burt. “I can see
it, though. What the hell is it?”

“Oh shit,” said Jon. “That’s a man; at least
I think it is. Look, they’re taking him down.”

From far below they heard the obnoxious
cheering of the Devils. They watched in horror as two of the group
hauled the body away to what appeared to be a pile of other dead
bodies. They then heard a bloodcurdling scream. They looked in that
direction and saw someone being dragged toward the tree. Whoever it
was wasn’t going down without a fight. He clawed at the ground,
shouting at his attackers in a man’s angry voice. He swore and
kicked, trying desperately to get away. The bikers’ delighted
laughter rose over the park and echoed off the rocks. Jimmy began
to breathe in short, quick puffs. He couldn’t believe what they
were witnessing. It took four of the bikers a full minute to
finally get the man into position. A motorcycle engine roared to
life. The rider pulled away slowly and the man was hoisted over the
limb of a tall tree by the rope around his neck. The rider stopped
the motorcycle after only a few feet and cut the engine. The man
hanging from the tree swung as he kicked his legs. Gradually, the
kicking slowed. When it mercifully stopped, the crowd of bikers
cheered. Jimmy ducked back down behind the rock; he’d seen enough.
Burt and Jon joined him.

“Why?” asked Jimmy.

“Because they can,” said Burt, bitterly. “I
want you both to go back to camp. There’s nothing you can do
here.”

“Like hell,” said Jon. “I’m going after those
bastards.”

Jimmy rubbed his eyes. There were so many of
them. Yet, they wouldn’t be expecting to be attacked. He thought
about that and nodded his head. “I’m with you guys. Let’s give ‘em
hell.”

Burt studied both of them. He looked deep
into their eyes and appeared to be satisfied with what he saw.
“We’ll probably be killed,” he said, “after we shoot the living
shit out of them.”

“We need a plan,” said Jon. “If we do this
right, we just might be able to pull it off. We’ve got to hit them
from all sides, hard and fast. I didn’t see any of them in the
streets. It looks like they’re all in the park. Do you think we can
surround them?”

Burt nodded. “It’ll take some time, but I’m
pretty sure we can get ourselves into position. I think I’d better
take the direct route. I’ll head down and take cover in one of
those houses, across from the park. You two will have to take the
long way around. Try and get to the opposite ends of the park. Just
remember that I’ll be in one of those houses in the middle of the
block. Be careful where you’re shooting. When you’re in position,
just spray those assholes with everything you’ve got. When they run
my way, I’ll be ready for ‘em. Are you sure you guys can handle
that?”

Jon nodded. Jimmy shrugged. Did he have a
choice?

“Good luck, guys. If we all don’t get out of
here, just remember this: We did the right thing. Now, let’s go get
those bastards, for Hank.”

“For Tom and Billy,” said Jimmy.

“For those poor souls down there,” said Jon.
He then stood up and led the way over the rock and down the path. A
new set of lungs began to scream in a high-pitched howl. Jimmy felt
his skin crawl.

They split up at the bottom of the path where
Burt gave a wave and jogged down an alley. If he wasn’t spotted, he
would be in position long before Jimmy and Jon arrived at their
posts. Jimmy felt naked running in the daylight. He followed Jon,
expecting to hear gunfire at any second. They gave the park a wide
berth, skirting it by at least three city blocks. His lungs burned
as he ran, the pack slapping at his back. The motorcycle engine
started again, rapping just a few short blocks away. Again Jimmy
deeply regretted his decision to start smoking. Jon was nearly half
a block ahead of him and stopped at the corner of a garage. Jimmy
jogged up to him and doubled over to catch his breath. Jon didn’t
even appear to have broken a sweat.

“Give me five minutes,” Jon whispered,
pointing at a house two blocks away. You might as well head over
there. The park is right across the street. Find some cover and get
your ammo ready. You’re going to need it. Remember Burt is going to
be across the street, somewhere in the middle of the block. Be
careful. Are you ready, man?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” admitted Jimmy.

“Okay, let’s do it. Open up when you hear me
shoot and let ‘em have it. We’ve got to take out as many as we can
before they can react. No mercy, Jimmy. Remember that.
No
mercy.
”

Jimmy nodded. He didn’t plan on giving any.
Jon smiled and patted Jimmy on the arm. He then turned and sprinted
down the alley.

Jimmy took a deep breath and checked his
rifle. He said a quick prayer and began to make his way to the
house that Jon had pointed to. He moved slowly, cautiously choosing
his steps around an empty garage. He then ran across a narrow lawn
and ducked down next to the back of a house. He took a few seconds
to catch his breath. He was going to have to cross one more street
before getting to where he needed to be. His heart pounded and his
forehead was dripping with sweat.

A fresh scream broke the silence, followed by
the roaring laughter of the bikers. Jimmy grunted and ran straight
for the house across the street. He felt something snap inside of
him. Suddenly, nothing mattered except getting into position and
killing as many Devils as he possibly could. Whatever fear he’d
been feeling had left his body. He ran to the back door of the
house and burst inside. Jimmy made his way into the small, neatly
furnished house. He was surprised to see that little had been
touched inside. This appeared to be a grandmother’s house. The
walls were adorned with rows of photographs and framed needlepoint
art. He ducked down and crawled into the living room on his hands
and knees, dragging his rifle behind him. He shook himself out of
the heavy pack and placed the clips down on top of a flowered sofa.
He picked up his rifle and scooted over to the open front door.

Jimmy peeked around the corner of the sofa
and out into the bright sunshine. The group was less than a hundred
feet away. Three of the thugs were struggling with a middle-aged
woman who was giving them all they could handle. Jimmy scanned the
crowd, recognizing the short biker who had stuck a gun up Bill’s
nose. He was laughing. You won’t be laughing long, thought
Jimmy.

He wondered how much time had passed since he
and Jon had split up. He hoped Jon was in position. The men were
very close to getting the struggling woman to the hanging rope. He
could now see where the other hostages were being held. There
appeared to be at least twenty more sitting in a grim circle
flanked by men with guns. Jimmy hoped that Jon could take them out.
The hostages would be in Jimmy’s line of fire and he couldn’t risk
hitting them.

“Come on, Jon,” Jimmy whispered.

The woman screamed as the rope was tightened
around her neck. One of the bikers, a fat balding one, walked
casually toward the Harley that the rope was tied to. He gave the
screaming woman a little wave and hopped on the motorcycle.

“Come on, Jon!” hissed Jimmy. “Now!”

There was a gunshot; and both the man and the
motorcycle tipped over. Three more shots rang out before Jimmy even
had time to react. The men holding the hostages were thrown back
like rag dolls. Jimmy set his jaw and leveled his rifle. He
remembered what Jon had taught him and he took a deep breath, held
it, and slowly squeezed the trigger. He sprayed the bikers with a
hail of gunfire and they were sent sprawling to the ground. He
emptied the clip, quickly removed it and sent another home. He
carefully took aim and sent another volley into the retreating
bikers. He emptied that clip and with a strange sense of calm, he
reloaded the rifle. Something inside of him really had snapped. He
stood up in the doorway and began to fire.

The remaining bikers had scattered and were
now running directly toward Burt. Jimmy gasped. From out of the
shadows, Burt Sharpen walked out to face the bikers. He let loose
with a deadly barrage of chattering fire. He took his time
reloading and walked toward the park at an almost casual pace. Burt
switched to semi-auto and began to pick off his targets. Jimmy
watched in amazement. Burt never seemed to miss. The gun cracked,
steadied, and cracked again. He repeated the process over and
over.

Jon was also shooting in single-shot bursts.
Jimmy couldn’t see him, but could see the damage he was inflicting
on the bikers. Many were now running directly toward Jimmy. Some
had their guns drawn and were firing blindly in front of them.
Jimmy aimed and once again squeezed the trigger. The M-16 jumped in
his hands and he raked the bikers with automatic fire.

Their attack had lasted only seconds, but it
had devastated the Devils. Those remaining stood frozen in their
tracks, their hands held high above their heads. Jimmy estimated
that about half of the Devils were down. The hostages slowly began
to rise to their feet, still trying to comprehend what had just
happened. Some merely stayed on the ground and wept. Burt
approached the remaining Devils and ordered them down on the
ground. He then instructed them to lie flat on their stomachs with
their arms spread wide.

Jimmy walked out of the house, his ears
ringing. He stood on the front porch and lit up a cigarette. He
could see Jon; he was already across the street, talking to the
hostages. Jimmy smoked, wondering what he could possibly be saying
to them. What could they do to restore any sort of faith in
humanity for these people after what they had just experienced?

He watched Jon lead some of the survivors
over to where Burt held his gun on the remaining Devils. Even
through the ringing in his ears, he could hear some of the bikers
pleading for their lives. The sound sickened Jimmy. He watched one
of the former hostages, a man who looked to be in his seventies,
kick one of the bikers in the head. Jimmy laughed at the sight of
it. He then watched in amazement as Burt offered his service
revolver to a middle-aged man in a soiled t-shirt and a pair of
bloody jeans. The man walked slowly around the bikers. He finally
stopped over one of them, put the barrel of the gun at the back of
a man’s head and quickly pulled the trigger. The biker’s head
slammed into the ground in an explosion of blood.

Jimmy had seen enough. He went back inside
the house and sat down on the couch. Jon had said that they’d get
no mercy, and it was clear that he and Burt were letting the former
hostages take their revenge. Jimmy put his cigarette out in a candy
dish and quickly lit another. There were more shots and the
shooting continued for what seemed like a very long time.

Jimmy found the bathroom and was sick in the
toilet.

Twenty
-
Seven

Don't ask, don't tell (DADT) was the common
term for the policy restricting the
United States
military from efforts to discover or
reveal
closeted
gay
,
lesbian
, and
bisexual
service members or applicants, while
barring those who were openly gay, lesbian, or bisexual from
military service. The policy was enacted in December of 1993 and
wasn’t abolished until September, 2011.