Half Past Midnight (7 page)

Larry, watching my face intently, knew he’d lost a round. Though he didn’t know what the stakes had been, he was obviously not a man used to losing. I could tell my expression infuriated him. Perversely, that made me grin even more.

“Han, make him talk,” Larry ordered. “Now!”

Eerily quiet, Han stepped toward me. I barely had time to think “Oh, shit!” before he went to work. About my height, Han was gifted with a Herculean physique, not someone I would ordinarily go out of my way to antagonize. He hammered away at my gut for the next ten or fifteen seconds, though it seemed considerably longer. When he finished, I hung limp in Michael’s and Edgar’s grips.

A martial artist who couldn’t take a few punches to the abdomen wasn’t much of a martial artist. It was a simple matter of keeping your abs in good condition and knowing when to tense and when to relax. Learning to ignore or rechannel surface pain helped, also. Though Han tested my abilities, I wasn’t in nearly as much pain as I pretended.

Any savvy street fighter knew you could often snatch victory from the jaws of defeat if you could just gain the element of surprise. So I hung there, arms tied behind me, gasping for air I didn’t really need and pretending to gag, waiting for fate to intervene on my behalf.

“Now, Leeland.” Larry reverted to his original cocky attitude. “Do you understand the predicament that you’re in? I ask a question, and you answer it. It’s actually quite simple.” He went back to his campstool and sat, looking up at me. “You know, I already know quite a bit about you. I can see that you are a man of some intelligence. No, I’m not trying to flatter you.”

He nodded toward my weapons. “You obviously understand the world is in the midst of a major upheaval, and the old rules of society no longer apply. You have prepared accordingly. You evidently have some skill in the martial arts, since many of the weapons you carry require considerable training and practice to use properly, especially the
manriki gusari
.”

My surprise must have shown. Not many people, other than martial artists, could identify the Japanese fighting chain by name. For that matter, not many martial artists could, either.

He smiled at my expression. “Oh, yes, I have some small knowledge of the arts, myself. Among other things, Han is my Sifu. We have a symbiotic relationship, each helping the other.” Larry waved his hand at the pile of my weapons. “I must admit, though, most of these items are beyond my modest skills.” He patted my Bowie knife stuck through his belt. “However, I do appreciate a well-made blade.

“So let us speculate here for a moment. You are an intelligent man who recognized the mortal wounds our society has received for what they are, and you have prepared yourself with weapons that were, by the old rules of that society, quite illegal to carry, especially concealed.

“Yet you carry no food. No water. No tools or medical supplies. Not even the most basic camping gear. Why is that? You don’t strike me as the type of person who would prepare so thoroughly for a fight that might or might not occur, and yet not prepare at all for the nuclear devastation that has already begun.

“So answer a question for me, Leeland. Who were you scouting for back there? And I do emphasize the word
scouting
.”

Again, I told the truth, in a manner of speaking. I changed only my destination and the existence of my family. “I was riding my motorcycle from Houston to my parents’ place in Louisiana. I had it made until that idiot in the Rabbit ran me off the road. And don’t start beating the crap out of me again! I’m not lying. I may have been off on the distance or the time, but I’m not used to traveling long distances on foot. And as far as my
scouting
goes, what would you do if you were walking down the road and topped a hill overlooking a mess like the one you’ve got back there? You’d stick to the trees and try to sneak by as quickly and as quietly as possible.”

He appeared to think it over for a moment. I’d covered all the angles I could think of. Now all I could do was sweat it out and hope it was good enough.

He looked up at me again. “Very well, Leeland. Assuming this is true, it still doesn’t explain your lack of provisions.”

“My folks have got all the supplies we’ll need. They have a twenty acre spread with a freshwater spring.”

“What about the time? Frank said you were keeping close track of the time.”

“I wanted to get to the next town before dark. Like you said, I don’t even have basic camping supplies. Before the wreck, I could probably have made it all the way to my folks’ house. After the wreck, I figured I’d be lucky to make it to the next town.”

Larry stood and began to pace back and forth in front of me. He considered my story for a moment, probably weighing what I had told him against what he already knew about me.

“Well, Leeland, perhaps I was wrong about you. Let’s see now, you were riding your motorcycle from Houston to Louisiana. Where, exactly, in Louisiana?”

What a time for a geography quiz. Wasn’t Shreveport nearby? I didn’t have time to think about it, or he’d get suspicious again. I gambled. “Shreveport.”

He never batted an eye. “Very well, then, Shreveport. You wrecked the motorcycle and were forced to continue afoot from there. Then you came across our little hollow and decided that you would rather be safe than sorry, so you took to the woods in an attempt to quietly sneak by and reach Shreveport as quickly as possible. Is that correct?”

“Exactly.”

Larry whirled and backhanded me across the face hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. He had a serious flair for melodrama, probably from watching too many war movies.

“Now what?” I yelled.

He reached down and grabbed my beard, jerking my head up viciously. When I saw his malicious sneer, I knew I was in trouble. “Why were you heading
west
when Frank discovered you? Shreveport is
east
!”

Oops. I was busted. The only chance I had now was to infuriate him enough to where he might make a mistake. “You know, a good mouthwash would clear that liver and onion smell right up, Larry.”

His eyes glinted coldly. “I thought you were smarter than this.” He let go of my beard and turned away. “Han! Don’t hold back this time.”

Han stepped forward. His fist flew, and it felt like I’d been hit with a sledge hammer. I wasn’t going to be able to take very much of this new assault. The second blow exploded in my belly, and I screamed—partly in pain, partly to help tighten my abs… mostly in pain.

I glimpsed the next punch as it flew toward my nose and tilted my head forward. Han’s knuckles collided with my skull instead, making my vision swim. I had a sudden, piercing headache, but also the satisfaction of hearing Han yelp in pain. When my sight cleared, I saw that he had split his knuckles on my skull. Mom always said I was hardheaded. I just hoped that my skull was in better shape than his knuckles.

“Stop!” Larry yelled. He walked over and examined Han’s hand, then pulled a tube from a small kit on his belt. “Put some ointment on that, Sifu. I’ll finish this.”

Han nodded once and stepped back as Larry turned to me. “Well, Leeland? Last chance. Will you cooperate, or do I finish what Han began?” Han stood silently rubbing the white cream onto his knuckles.

“Not… going to let… him… finish… his own… work?” I gasped.

Larry shook his head. “For all his fine skills, my teacher has some simplistic beliefs. He would never willingly take a life, except in self defense or honorable combat.” He pulled my knife from its sheath. “I, on the other hand, have no such qualms.”

I sighed. A lot of options went through my mind at that point. I could continue to comment on his breath, or even spit in his face. For that matter, he was close enough for me to break his knee, since they hadn’t seen fit to tie my legs. But all of those grand gestures would undoubtedly result in my immediate demise, or worse, my slow execution. And I had an intense desire to live as long as possible.

So I spilled my guts. I told him everything that had occurred since I had seen the fireball. It didn’t matter; my wife and kids were safe. The only lie that I clung to was our true destination. If I didn’t make it and, at that point it didn’t look good, I didn’t want Larry going after them.

When I finished my tale, he shook his head. “So you’ve deceived me all along. You lied about being alone. You stalled for time so your family could get away. And worst of all, you deprived me of the supplies they were carrying in your van.” He sighed. “That was stupid. Very stupid. I could have ransomed you back to them for those supplies. I might even have dealt in good faith and let you all live.”

Larry gestured with my Bowie, waving it before me. “But now, I can’t trust you. I can’t ransom you. And you know, of course, I can’t afford to feed you or have you go to others with what you know about me. Actually, Mr. Dawcett, it appears that your usefulness is at an end.” He raised the blade to my throat.

It’s now or never
, I thought, and kicked as fast and as hard as I could, connecting with his knee, hearing it pop, and at the same time trying to pull my neck as far away from that blade as possible.

Larry’s eyes bugged out, and he shrieked as, to my amazement, a wet, red-streaked shaft erupted from his left shoulder and buried itself in Edgar’s throat. Edgar released my right arm and dropped to the ground clawing at the crossbow bolt protruding from his throat. Michael shoved me away, and I fell on my face.

I heard the crack of a rifle. Michael screamed and fell, twitching briefly beside me. His lifeless hand gripped a pistol, and I saw with horror that the barrel pointed directly at my chest.

Han froze, looking at the carnage of the last two seconds, then slowly raised his hands. I struggled to my feet. Larry lay screaming, thrashing about on the ground. Michael and Edgar were both apparently dead.

Debra’s voice rang out from the edge of the tree line. “Don’t move, big guy, or I’ll kill you, too!”

Han’s eyebrows rose slightly, probably at the sound of a woman’s voice, but he didn’t move. I smiled shamelessly. The cavalry had arrived.

Chapter 5
* * June 13 / 7:02 p.m. * *

Lors que Saturne & Mars esgaux combust,
L’air fort seiché longue traiection:
Par feux secrets, d’ardeur grand lieu adust,
Peu pluye, vent chaut, guerres, incursions.

The year that Saturn and Mars are equal fiery,
The air very dry parched long meteor:
Through secret fires a great place blazing from burning heat,
Little rain, warm wind, wars, incursions.

Nostradamus –
Century 4, Quatrain 67

Debra cautiously approached from the trees with her rifle pointed conspicuously at Han’s chest. “Lee?” Her eyes never left her target as she spoke, “Are you all right?”

It was a ludicrous question, considering the circumstances, but I couldn’t bring myself to laugh. Besides, I didn’t think she would find it very funny. “Fine,” I croaked “You want to untie me?”

She pulled a little utility knife out of a belt sheath. One good thing about being a knife maker, everyone in the family had a sharp blade.

As soon as she cut me free, I went over to Michael’s body and relieved it of the pistol he had been reaching for so desperately. Then I went over to my clothes and began to dress. As I pulled my boots back on, I noticed that Larry had stopped struggling and sat up. His left arm dangled uselessly, and his left leg bent awkwardly at the knee. I could see he was in a lot of pain, but his eyes held more hatred than anything else. I stood and pointed the pistol at him. “Okay, Larry, it’s my turn now. Toss me your pistol… slowly.”

He continued to glare as he complied.

“Thanks, Larry. Now I’d like to have my knife back.”

He tossed it without a word, bare of its sheath. He had still been clenching the blade as he thrashed about on the ground. It was a lucky thing that he hadn’t hurt himself severely, or maybe not so lucky. The world would probably have been a much better place without him.

“Toss me the sheath, too.”

When I’d gotten that, I walked over to him and searched his clothing for concealed weapons. Then I gave Han the same treatment.

Debra startled me, speaking from directly behind me. “Are you really all right?”

“Yeah, just a little bruised up.”

As I turned back to her, her eyes widened. “Oh, my God, doesn’t that hurt?” She reached out to touch my neck, pulling back bloody fingers. It’s funny how a wound you don’t know about doesn’t hurt… until it’s pointed out to you. As soon as I saw those bloody fingers, my neck began to sting as if I had been branded. I wasn’t as fast as I’d counted on; I hadn’t totally evaded the knife, after all.

“Didn’t even know it was there until just now.” I reached up to feel the shallow slice on the side of my throat, wincing as I touched the length of it. “Now it hurts like hell, though.”

Debra yelled back toward the trees, “Zachary! Bring the first aid kit. Hurry!” My wife, being who she was, had prepared for this eventuality. I would have been surprised if she hadn’t.

Zachary came into the clearing at a dead run clutching the kit to his chest. I noticed he steered around the bodies, but couldn’t seem to keep from looking down at them. I knew there was no help for it, but I wished he didn’t have to be exposed to that, despite what I had said about his having to grow up in a hurry. His eyes widening as his mother’s had at the sight of my neck, he handed her the kit. My wound must have looked pretty bad. Once cleaned, however, it proved to be no more than a scratch, one that bled profusely and burned like fire, but a scratch nonetheless. I covered Han and Larry with my pistol while Debra cleaned me up. It was eerily silent as she worked on me. No one said a word. Like truculent children, we refused to acknowledge each other. After a minute of that I turned my attention to Debra. “What are you guys doing here? Not that I’m not grateful, but I thought you’d be long gone by now.” I hissed as she wiped hydrogen peroxide on the cut.

She kept her voice low as she told me what had happened. “When you didn’t make it back in time, I was afraid you’d gotten yourself into trouble.” She finished washing my neck and reached for a tube of ointment. “Good guess there, huh? Anyway, we waited another five minutes to make sure you weren’t just running a little behind, then we came back. We found a hidden road just a little ways down the hill and followed it here.” Squeezing the ointment on my neck, Debra pulled a cotton swab from the kit and proceeded to smear the gooey mess along the cut. “We got to the edge of the clearing here in time to see that guy,” she glanced up at Larry, “pistol whip the other one. When he sent him into the cabin, Megan said she could sneak up on him and get a shot at the others from inside. I was going to wait on her to make the first shot, but then that one came at you with the knife.” She nodded at Larry again, and her voice got lower as she whispered, “I thought they were going to kill you.”