Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival (39 page)

Spence signaled the other men to stay alert at their sentry posts, but warned about shooting their own man when he returned. His man was to work his way to the back gate, where they would challenge, “Ohio” and he would respond, “State.” It was dark by the back gate, so the code word was necessary to avoid an accident.

One of the sentries indicated he saw movement, and Spence yelled “Ohio,” and the man yelled back “State.” Spence opened the back gate, waved him in, and turned, walking back to a table in the gardens where the debriefing would occur.

It was Bishop who entered the gate, not the bomber. Bishop passed through the gate not knowing what to expect. He felt bad that he had lied to Terri about not coming near the place, but what he had learned required he act now. He could see the outline of a man walking ahead of him toward a table in the garden. He closed the gate behind him, just like their man would have done, and tried to locate the others he knew would be in the hotel gardens. He couldn’t see them. He broke off into the shadows and used the night vision to scan the area.

Spence turned around expecting to see the bomber behind him, eager to report. He was pissed he was not there and thought, “
Where did that dipshit go?”
He finally decided the guy must need to take a leak or something, so he stood and waited.

Bishop tried to move quickly without noise, but his progress was slowed because the garden’s ground was covered with noisy pea gravel. He wanted to work his way around to get behind Spence. He was hiding under some stairs when he heard someone above him. The stairs were metal, without a kickboard, and Bishop could see the man above was carrying a weapon.
Not likely a guest.
He could barely make out a bandage wrapped around the guy’s head.
Bill almost got him, and I will finish the job.
Bishop had several nylon ties stored on his chest rig. In his role at work, they were issued to serve as handcuffs, but over the years he had found many different uses for them. He pulled out three of the ties and connected them together into one long strip of plastic. He secured one end to each side of the stairs making a tripwire across the steps.

Bishop knew there were four men he had to engage. He could see Spence by the table and was aware of the guard at the top of the steps. He had to locate the other two before they realized their bomber was missing.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and located the third man 50 feet away. This guard was patrolling between two sections of the gardens and carried a rifle. Bishop scanned again using the night vision, but couldn’t find the last guard. He jumped when Spence yelled. “Hey! Tim! Where the hell did you go?”

Spence was looking for his missing man, and Bishop knew he had to act fast. He assessed the situation and didn’t like his options.
Maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all.
Spence didn’t have a weapon in his hands, but Bishop was sure one was close by. The two guards had rifles and were no doubt alert now. He had no idea where the fourth guy was. The Manor’s gardens were almost two full acres and divided by low adobe walls and rows of hedge. The last guard could be anywhere.

Bishop didn’t like his chances in a prolonged game of cat and mouse. There was too much cover and too many places to hide. He moved away from the stairs and took refuge behind a gazebo. His back was close to one of the main walls of the garden, and he had a reasonable angle on the three known targets.
I will make this area my Alamo.

Time was running out. A quick glance at Spence showed he was looking at his watch and appeared annoyed. Bishop had a quick fantasy of killing S
pence with his bare hands. His mind movie had them rolling around with blades slashing and blows being landed by fists and feet. He quickly dismissed the Hollywood hero’s version of the ending. His shoulder and ribs were throbbing, he was tired, hot, sweating underneath all of his gear, and he had broken his promise to Terri.
I am sick of all of this,
he thought,
and I want it to end right now
.

He raised his rifle, centered the red dot on guard’s chest, thumbed off the safety, and slowly squeezed the trigger. Two shots rang out, and the man crumpled to the ground instantly. Bishop swung the rifle in Spence’s direction, but he was already diving to the ground. Bishop fired, but knew he missed.

The guard at the top of the steps came running down fast. His boot caught on the nylon tripwire, and he became airborne, landing with a thud on the bottom step. He was trying to get up when Bishop slipped up behind him. The guard heard a scrape of gravel and started to turn toward the noise, when Bishop’s rifle butt smashed into the side of his head, right where Bill’s original shot had just missed.

By now, Spence had recovered from the surprise and picked up his rifle. He instinctively knew where the shots had come from, but doubted the shooter was still in the same spot. He couldn’t be sure how many foes he was up against, so he remained behind cover. He heard a loud “thud” by the stairs and saw movement. He aimed and sprayed several shots, trying to draw a response.

Bishop was moving away from the stairs when he felt Spence’s bullets crack the air beside him. He went prone, fired back, and then rolled away.

The missing guard had been at the far end of the gardens when the firefight had erupted. He was cautiously working his way back, when he saw Bishop dive to the ground and start shooting. He could see enough of Bishop’s silhouette from the muzzle flashes to know he wasn’t a friend, and let go a long burst of automatic fire.

The ground around Bishop erupted with flying rocks, dirt and debris. He rolled left and snap-fired two rounds back at the new attacker.
Now I know where the fourth sentry is.
He got up and tried to scramble for cover when a round slammed into his rifle, barely missing his hand. The kinetic energy of the bullet snapped the rifle out of Bishop’s grip, spraying small metal fragments into his skin. Still attached by its sling, the rifle fell between his legs. Bishop tripped, fell and skidded across the ground.

Bishop’s right hand was completely numb from the shock of the bullet, and wouldn’t respond. He tried to crawl away to find cover; but the bulk of his gear, tangled rifle, and worthless hand all impeded his progress. He rolled onto his back and managed to pull his pistol with his left hand. He flicked the safety off and waited on the fourth guard to come closer.

Bishop knew this was it. He had little chance in his current condition against one man, let alone two. As he lay panting for breath, he wished he had given Terri a better kiss goodbye.
Did I tell her I loved her before I left? Did I tell her I was sorry I hurt her in the market?
He saw the shadow of the fourth guard approaching cautiously and tried to be still. He knew any sign of life would cause the man to empty his magazine, and at this range, there was no way the guy could miss. Slowly, he pointed the pistol in the man’s direction, hoping the movement would be undetected
. It’s now or never.
Bishop started firing the .45 caliber when the man was about 25 yards away. With aim and a good hand, it would be an easy shot. Using his left hand and not aiming, it would be a miracle. Bishop emptied the 8-round clip but couldn’t tell if he had hit anything because the muzzle flash had blinded him. He started to eject the empty clip when a nearby voice made him freeze. It was Spence, and he was very close.

“That’s four of my guys you have killed tonight. In a sick sort of way, I should thank you. I was going to eventually kill them myself.”

“You’re welcome…in a sick sort of way.”

Bishop heard Spence moving, and his vision was beginning to clear. Spence circled around him and finally stood
10 feet away, pointing his rifle at Bishop’s head.

Spence, anticipating the coming coup de grace, was curious. “What’s your cause man? I mean, why get involved in all of this? I know you just came into town. Do you have a hero complex or something?”

For the first time in his life, Bishop couldn’t come up with any words. He could only lay there thinking of Terri and wishing this guy would just get it over with.

“No matter,” said Spence, and he slowly and deliberately raised his rifle to take careful aim.

Bishop closed his eyes and waited for the flash, or pain, or whatever someone felt at the end. He jumped when shots rang out. It took him a few seconds to realize he was still breathing. He opened his eyes and looked over to see Spence lying on the ground.

The fourth guard was standing over Spence’s body. The man looked down and growled, “So, you were going to kill us anyway. You wanted all of the loot for yourself.
How did that work out for ya, Motherfucker?”

Bishop could see a large, dark stain of blood on the man’s shoulder where one of his pistol rounds had found its target. The guard staggered toward Bishop and raised his rifle. He suddenly convulsed, jerked and spun as several gunshots rang out. His body corkscrewed down to the ground, as it was hit several times.

Bishop craned his head to see the source of the gunfire, and saw Terri, Pete and several of the town’s men running toward him. Terri threw down her rifle and almost jumped on top of him.

“Are you okay? Where are you hurt?”

“I’m okay…really…I’m okay. Just help me up,” Bishop answered.

Feeling gradually returned to Bishop’s hand. After two bottles of water, he was walking around trying to shake it all off. Terri checked his wounds, and miraculously everything looked okay. Pete had explained to Terri what happened, and she waved off Bishop’s apologies for having gone after The Force.

After he had regained his strength, Bishop banged on each of the hotel room doors. He yelled “police” as he knocked, and anyone who answered was told that they were now free to go. The townspeople, drawn by the noise of the firefight, began to console the terrified guests.

After the hotel guests had been released, Bishop walked through each room, hoping not to find any more bodies. The third room he checked was locked, and no one responded from inside. He went back to Spence’s body and searched his pockets for the key. He opened the door carefully and detected the anticipated booby trap inside the room. It was a rather large pipe bomb. He disarmed the device and pointed his flashlight inside.

Bishop could make out boxes of stacked food and ammunition. He could also see several steel containers full of gold, jewelry and other stolen items. He closed and locked the door behind him, leaving the booby trap unarmed.

Pete walked up behind him and asked, “Did you find their loot?”

“Yes, it’s behind that door. I think we should have a town meeting in the morning to discuss what to do with it.”

“Why don’t you take it? You saved a lot of lives here tonight. You deserve it.”

“There are some things in there I would like to have, but it’s not what you think. Let’s talk about this in the morning. I’m beat.”

Bishop’s Ranch, West Texas – September 27, 2015

No Place Beats Home

Bishop and Terri slowed down, pulled to the shoulder of the highway and stopped. They had left Meraton that morning and had not seen a soul on the road since. Bishop looked up at the familiar mountains of his childhood and smiled at Terri.

“This is it. I hope everything is still like we left it.”

They turned off the road and engaged the four-wheel drive as there was no lane or driveway, just flat, hard packed dirt and rocks. Normally the added traction would be unnecessary on this soil, but the truck was loaded down with supplies from the hotel and several hundred pounds of gold. It had been decided that the gold would be a magnet for trouble, and the town was better off without it. Bishop had promised to return it when the town was ready and had a plan to put it to good use. He had drawn a map to his place, and Pete stored it in the small safe he kept in the back office, promising to send someone when and if Bishop were needed.

Bishop and Terri pledged to come back and see everyone in a month or so after they had settled in. There had been tears, hugs and tight throats all around as they had left. As they were pulling out of town, Bishop saw a large Hummer entering Meraton. He had looked at Terri and said “Oh shit,” thinking the drug cartel finally arrived to meet The Force. He had turned around and followed the vehicle directly to The Manor. He pulled out his rif
le and began walking to meet the town’s new visitors, thinking that this nightmare was never going to end. He was a little taken aback when an older man got out of the Hummer, followed by a middle-aged woman and two teenage kids. Bishop slung the rifle around to his back with the barrel pointed down and approached them.

“Howdy, welcome to Meraton,” he said.

“Thanks, I am Dr. Richard Hopkins, and this is my wife and grandchildren.”

The two men shook hands.

The Doctor continued, “We’ve heard that there is, well, some sort of order here. I hope it was not just a rumor. We’re so tired and barely got out of Houston with our lives. Is this place sane?”

Bishop laughed and said, “It is as sane as anywhere I have seen in two months. Doctor, you say?”

“Yes, I’m a GP, and my wife is a teaching, well,
was
a teaching physician at the University of Texas at the Medical Center.”

Bishop nodded, smiled, and said, “Walk about four blocks down that way. You will see a bar with a small sign over the door that says “Pete’s Place.” Go in
, and tell him Bishop sent you. You and your family will be welcome here and probably as safe as any place in Texas.”

“Pete’s Place, okay. A bartender runs the town?”

“He is only a part-time bartender. His real job is mayor.”

After a small rise and another stretch of flat ground, Bishop and Terri approached the old ranch road that led to their canyon. If they had turned left, the old road wandered for over a dozen miles past watering tanks, holding pens and outbuildings no longer in use. They turned right and eventually dead-ended at a ravine that had been cut from the surrounding mesa by wind erosion thousands of years before.

As the canyon walls began to rise above them, the road suddenly ended. Years ago, Bishop had carefully cleared a path of any obstacles allowing them to continue deeper into the desert even though it appeared as if there weren’t any path at all. They wound around boulders and slabs of rock the size of homes that had fallen from the steep cliff walls. As they made the final turn, the surrounding vegetation changed and became greener from a spring that dripped just enough water to make a difference. There were even a few trees.

In front of them was the camper, just as they had left it on their last visit. Two small pecan trees had survived as well as the high desert pines Bishop had planted years ago. One of the pecans was actually providing shade for the trailer.

They got out of the truck, and Terri came around to hug him. They stood by the truck for several minutes just holding each other.

Terri finally looked up and said, “Bishop, I have something I need to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m pregnant,” she announced, searching his eyes for approval.

He was stunned . . . shocked . . . and finally, he smiled and softly replied, “I love you
, baby,” and pulled her close.

After they talked about the new addition to the family for several minutes, Terri claimed to have an urge to nest and went to the camper to look inside and see how dirty it had gotten since they were here last. Bishop walked behind the 30-foot long aluminum bullet house and found their “hot tub” was just as he had left it.
The ten-foot wide natural cup in the rocks was still full of water from the spring. It was just as clear and inviting as he remembered it. The tub overflowed into a small channel in the rocks and continued until disappearing in the sand. Bishop had made a small dam that allowed the cup to fill, but believed it had originally formed naturally over the years due to water dripping from the slight overhang above. When he poured the concrete, he made a small “gate” so water could be diverted to a flat area of ground where he envisioned having a garden one day.

He looked around the tub and saw numerous sets of deer and rabbit tracks, which told him his idea was popular with the local residents as well.

He could hear Terri opening the windows on the camper and fussing already. “This place is a dusty mess, Bishop. How could it get so dirty in here without you living in it? I need a bucket of water and some soap right now, or I’m going to sleep in the truck.”

He waved his hand
, dismissing her, but said out loud, “Yes, dear.”

He went around a large boulder and then up a short narrow path until he was facing the cliff wall. He dug his keys out of his pocket and unlocked a large stainless padlock. He pulled hard on a big steel door which was scavenged from the bin of a grain hauler. The door opened to r
eveal the “bat cave.” The “cave” was really not a cave at all, but more of a deep indentation in the rock face. The five-foot high entrance opened into a room about the size of a one-car garage that had plastic storage bins stacked along one wall. He looked for the one labeled “cleaning” and found it toward the bottom of a stack. After digging out soap for Terri, he looked around the room thinking,
I would like to build a workbench over there, and I could reload over there, but first
I should build a playground slide off of that rock and hang a swing from the top.

“Bishop, where’s my soap?”

He smiled and rushed out for the camper to tell Terri about his idea for a playground. He was so excited thinking about his role as a new father that he completely forgot about her soap.