The Shepherd (20 page)

Click
. The first squeeze of the trigger didn’t end her life.

Alice hesitated before she pulled the trigger again. She didn’t want to die, and she had always been taught that suicide was a one-way ticket to the fire. She hoped that God would grant her leniency due to the extenuating and coerced circumstances surrounding her demise.

She hesitated for a second longer, but this time, she pulled the trigger over and over in quick succession.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
She paused and then squeezed again.
Click. Click. Click.
She was still alive.

The gun wasn’t loaded.

She dropped the impotent weapon to the floor. Her immediate reaction was great joy. After all, she was still alive. She had stared death in the face, and in the end, she had the guts to truly sacrifice herself to save her children.

The sense of joy lasted a split second before she realized that she had broken the rules once again.

She fixed her eyes upon Ackerman’s face to gauge his reaction. His gaze was cold, but devoid of stronger emotions. She could detect no signs of the rage she had seen burning in his eyes earlier. Now, she saw the black eyes of a shark. She wondered if this was the same look that the spider gave the fly.

Then, the darkness faded from his visage, and he smiled a warm, loving smile. It was as if a different person sat across from her. The man she saw now was handsome with kind eyes. Ackerman had transformed.

This transformation should have filled her with some small sense of hope, but she dared not let herself be optimistic. She knew what lay beneath the surface of these calm waters.
Maybe this is only the eye of the storm?

“You remind me of my mother, Alice.” She thought of Norman Bates. He continued. “I believe it was Marion C. Garrety that said, ‘Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible.’ I also like a quote from some psychologist who said, ‘Mother’s love is peace. It need not be acquired, it need not be deserved.’ It’s a powerful thing, the love of a mother. I would guess that it’s just some primal instinct that mankind has yet to exploit, corrupt, or filter out—but it’s astounding, nonetheless.

“In a world where everything else will fail you, where everything else falls away and doesn’t begin to live up to our expectations, a mother’s love remains true. I can think of no other bond or loyalty that is harder to break. I sometimes wonder how different my life may have been if my mother hadn’t died when I was young. I don’t remember much of her. She died along with my unborn baby brother due to a complication during her pregnancy. I don’t even remember her funeral or visiting her grave. But I remember her love.”

He took a deep breath before his gaze went distant. “I sometimes think that my whole life has been just one long nightmare, and at any moment, she’ll wake me up and tell me that it was all just a bad dream.”

Ackerman stood up from the table, and she noticed the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “Take care of your children, Alice. Don’t take them for granted. Go put them back in their beds, and when you wake up in the morning, convince them and yourself that this has been nothing but a bad dream.” He turned and walked toward the door.

She was still in shock at the sudden change in his mood. Joy overwhelmed a part of her, but another part wondered if he was merely toying with them. Before she even realized the words had come from her mouth, she said, “I told you there was a God.”

Ackerman stopped dead.

Idiot.
Dwight had always said that she never knew when to keep her big mouth shut.

When the killer turned around, she saw no signs of animosity. He looked toward the floor for a moment and then back at her. “For my sake…I hope you’re wrong.”

“It’s never too late,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“To turn things around. To choose a different path. It’s never too late.”

He grinned. “I have a friend that tells me the same thing. Time will tell, I suppose.” He stared deep into her eyes. “Good night, Alice.”

With those words, he turned and left as silently as he had entered their lives.

She untied her children and held them tighter than she ever had before. From that moment on, she vowed to never take her simple life for granted. Every day was a blessing, each moment a gift. As she rocked back and forth and squeezed her children, she wondered if she would ever be able to let them go.

Charlie sat motionless on the hardwood floor of the old Victorian home’s parlor, his knees curled up to his chest. Marcus knew exactly what the teenager was thinking. He knew the symptoms of a guilty conscience all too well.

As he stared out the window, keeping a vigilante eye on the aggressors just beyond the porch, he said, “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“What’s it to you? You don’t even know me. If you hadn’t come here, my dad…”

“You’re right. Your dad’s dead because of me. But that’s not what you were thinking. You were sitting there replaying every hurtful thing you ever said to your father—every argument, every hateful look, every time that you cursed him under your breath. And you’re thinking how you’d give anything to take it all back and have one last chance to say that you’re sorry and that you love him. But you’re not gonna get that chance this side of heaven, kid. So get over it. He knew.”

“Knew what?”

“How much you loved him. And he loved you more than anything. That’s why he rode you so hard. He wanted to help you become the good man that he knew you’d be someday.”

He glanced over and noticed for the first time that Loren stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the parlor listening to their conversation. “Your dad died protecting his family. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He wouldn’t want you to be sad or guilty. He would want you to live a good life and be the best man that you can be, and I know that you’re gonna make your father proud. Your family needs you to be that good man now more than ever.”

Charlie said nothing, but he could see a gradual softening in the boy’s eyes. Loren waited a moment and then entered the room. “We’ve gathered everything you asked for,” she said. “I’m not sure what you’re gonna do with it, but you’ve got it.”

“Good. Well, what’d one shepherd say to the other shepherd?” They stared at him a moment. He grinned. “Let’s get the flock outta here.”

~~*~~

I hold their lives in my hands.

It was a duty Marcus didn’t relish, but one from which he could not escape. He had put this family in danger, and Allen had already become a casualty of his mistake. Now, he was their sole chance for survival. The thought made him feel like some kind of mythological figure charged with holding the strands of life together, only to find that no mere mortal could ever hope to do so.

“What exactly are we gonna do with all this crap?” Loren said.

“We’re going on the offensive. Basically, the plan is that we distract the group out front long enough for us to get to the car in the back. They’ll probably have someone back there watching the car, but maybe not. We’ll just have to deal with that when the time comes.”

She stared at him a moment. “Okay. So what exactly are we gonna do with all this crap?”

He was glad to see that her fire had not been completely blown out. “It’s all part of the distraction. Trust me.”

She didn’t look convinced. “But what are we going to do, even if we make it out of here in the car? They’ll be right on our tails. They can radio ahead and set up roadblocks, APBs, air surveillance. Plus, you said the cop that found you along the road was a state officer, so this obviously goes beyond the Sheriff. And we don’t know how high. Which means, we don’t know who to trust or where we’ll be safe. What good does it do us to get to the car?”

He could see her anxiety growing as she rattled off the mountain of odds stacked against them. He felt her fear, not only for herself but also for the lives of her children. She looked like a different woman from the one he had met such a short time ago. She looked like a woman at her wit’s end, and he didn’t know what to say in order to make the situation seem any less bleak.

“Listen, Loren, I don’t have all the answers. I’m just taking this one step at a time. Right now, the only thing that I know for sure is that if we stay here any longer, then we all die. So we’re going to make it to that car, and we’re gonna get the hell outta here. Once we’re out on the road, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Loren was silent for a moment and then nodded her assent. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

She prepared the kids, and he surveyed the items he had requested while keeping a watchful eye on the men outside. When he was content that everything he needed was present, he went to work.
Improvise, Adapt, Overcome.

He loaded the double-barreled Remington that Loren had produced from the upstairs closet and handed the shotgun and a few of the shells to Charlie. “You know how to use one of these?”

The boy nodded. “I used to shoot trap with my dad.”

“Believe me, kid, it’s a lot different when it’s a living, breathing person you’re pointing it at. If it comes to it, don’t think, just point and squeeze. It’s only a last resort, but if things go bad, it might save your life. A last resort. You understand?”

Charlie nodded.

He turned his attention back to the assembled items. He placed all the remaining bullets into the coffee can. He picked up the can of hairspray and sprayed some of its contents onto the bullets in the can. Then, he tore off a piece of the old shirt and wrapped it around the metal hairspray bottle, leaving a piece of the shirt hanging down like a tail.

A sound from out front drew his attention. They had started one of the cruisers. He looked out the window, and his heart sank.

Two of the men held their position while the Sheriff and the remaining deputies hid behind the other cruiser. They had started the vehicle, and one of them lay flat in the driver’s seat. The car rolled forward, serving as mobile cover.

A flanking maneuver.

He snatched up the lighter and matches and stepped into position next to the door. He placed the coffee can in front of the opening. “Get to the back door,” he called over his shoulder.

He held up the lighter, struck the flint, and lit the tail of the t-shirt tied to the hairspray. As soon as the fire began to consume the shirt, he flung open the front door and stepped onto the porch.

The world slowed.

He tossed the flaming can into the air over the officers. He raised the gun and sighted in on the fireball in its descent. He squeezed the trigger.

The bullet struck the can of hairspray dead on, and as the projectile penetrated its surface, the can’s flammable contents spewed out onto the flames of the shirt. It burst into a brilliant explosion, and flaming liquid rained down upon the police cruisers and the men hiding behind them. The Sheriff and his deputies dove away from the falling debris of the make-shift Molotov.

He knew that the small explosion wouldn’t kill or immobilize any of the officers, but it served as a great distraction. Now, it was time for phase two. He pushed the coffee can full of bullets onto the porch, and as he retreated into the house, he lit a match and threw it into the can.

He threw the front door shut behind him and ran toward the back.

The bullets in the can ignited like a pack of firecrackers. He could hear the uproar of gunfire and hoped it would force the officers to stay behind cover. His goal was to buy them enough time to get in the car and have a head start down the road. If he were lucky, the flames on the squad cars would prevent access to the vehicles. If that happened, they’d be home free.

The Brubakers waited at the back door. “Let me check it out first,” he said as he reached them.

He stepped out onto the back steps and scanned the area. He could see no immediate threats, and they didn’t have time to hesitate now. He called for them to come out as he continued to search for a sentry.

Loren and Amy were at his side—
but where’s Charlie?

He turned back to the house and saw Charlie standing in the doorway. His gut twisted as he saw the look in the young man’s eyes, and he hoped that Charlie wasn’t about to do something really stupid. “Come on, Charlie. Let’s go.”

“I’m staying. They’re gonna pay…and I’m gonna make my dad proud.”

“Please, kid, we’re almost outta here.”

“Protect my mom and my sister. I’ll make sure that you’re not followed.”

He broke for the house, but Charlie slammed the door and locked it behind him.

He reached the door and wrenched on the handle. “Charlie! Open the door.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Loren and Amy. They had wasted too much time already, but this was their one shot. They had to get moving fast, but he couldn’t leave Charlie behind.
Stupid kid. What’s he thinking?
There was only one thing he could do.

He turned back to the women. “Loren, take your daughter and go. I’ll get Charlie, and we’ll catch up.”

Loren’s eyes widened with shock and disbelief. “No, we go together or not at all.”

“We don’t have time for this. Go, now. We’ll get out another way.

”Tears cascaded down her face. “You save my boy, Marcus,” she said. Then, she grabbed her daughter’s arm and headed for the car.

He turned back to the door, and his heart wrenched when he heard a shotgun blast from inside the house.
Oh God, please don’t let me be too late.

He kicked the door. It flew inward on its hinges, splinters of wood shooting out like shrapnel from the doorframe. Throwing all caution to the wind, he sprinted into the house. The only thing he cared about was finding Charlie.

He ran through the kitchen and back toward the front door. He entered the living room, gun at the ready.

Charlie had a strong arm around his neck and a gun pressed to his temple. The Sheriff held the teenager as a human shield.

The Sheriff’s mannerisms were a thousand times more frightening than if he had worn a face of rage. The collectedness that he displayed showed that he was in complete control and knew it. “Drop the gun, Marcus. It’s over.”