Desperate Times Three - Revolution Read online

  “You’re an asshole,” Dundlemore said. “You and your buddy had better go home before you get hurt.”

  The beer can thrower was reaching inside the cooler as Ken withdrew the Smith & Wesson and began walking toward him. The kid shrieked at the sight of the blue steel and held his hands in the air. “Dude, it’s cool,” he moaned as Ken stuck the barrel of the pistol under the young man’s chin.

  Jimmy had also seen enough and pulled the .357 from the back of his jeans and trained it on Dundlemore. “If you open your mouth again, I’ll blow your goddamn head off!”

  “There’s been enough killing tonight,” Ken shouted to the group, which Jimmy calculated to number somewhere between twenty and thirty. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that one of my people lost his mind tonight and killed the owner of that there motorhome,” Ken added, pointing with his free hand. “There’s another of your group just on the other side of my wall. He’s dead too. I think he choked to death on his own puke. The man who killed your friend also killed that pretty blonde that was over here. He then killed himself. Like I said, there has been enough death.”

  Ken paused, and a hushed murmur rose from around the crackling fire. Mark Dundlemore looked as if he were about to protest, and Jimmy drew back the hammer with a loud, satisfying click.

  “I’m going to need four guys to come over and retrieve the bodies of your people,” Ken said. He moved closer to the fire and pointed at a group of young men with the barrel of the .38. “You four, come with me,” Ken ordered. “This won’t take long.”

  “You too,” Jimmy said to Mark Dundlemore, waving him to follow the others. “I want you to see this.”

  “How do we know they’re safe?” asked a voice from the crowd.

  “Because I goddamn said so!” bellowed Ken, twisting back to stare wild-eyed at the throng of interrupted partiers.

  He was met by only silence.

  The four young men Ken had chosen began to hurry away from the firelight ahead of Ken. They were followed by Mark Dundlemore and Jimmy. The group said nothing as Ken led the way with the beam of his flashlight. A moment later they were inside the wall, hovering over a pasty-faced Kyle.

  “You two,” Ken said, motioning to the smallest of the young men. “Drag him out of here.”

  “It’s Kyle,” one of the young men whispered.

  They stood and waited as the limp body was dragged across the grass and out the open gate into the blackness. Ken motioned with the flashlight to the side of the house. “Come on,” he said. “The other one is in the basement.”

  “How do we know you’re not going to kill us?” Dundlemore asked, raising his hands in the air. “I don’t trust either of you assholes.”

  “You should have thought of that before you opened your big fat mouth,” replied Ken.

  “And if you open it again, I’m going to knock your teeth out,” added Jimmy. “Now get moving!”

  There were no more words as they trudged up the short hill at the side of the house. The night air was still and cemetery quiet. Jimmy watched Dundlemore without pity as he turned back to face him. The older man looked scared to death as he was ushered inside the back door and down the creaking stairs. Jimmy followed the group down and wasn’t surprised to see one of the young men rush to the laundry tub and retch at the sight of Vetter’s nearly decapitated body in the yellow light of the oil lantern. Again, Dundlemore turned to stare at Jimmy with accusatory eyes. He was blaming them for Doc’s killing spree, and Jimmy found that he didn’t care.

  “That’s Doc in the back room,” Ken said, pointing to Doc who had slumped back into the wooden chair. “Apparently he had a problem with your friend here moving in on his woman. Ya know, a guy should really think of stuff like that before he tries to step into another man’s shoes. Some guys end up like your friend. A damn shame, really. So young…” He rummaged around under the workbench and produced a small, paint-spattered tarp. He tossed it down next to the body. “You can wrap him up in that,” he said, nodding toward the severed hand on the workbench. “And don’t forget that.”

  “Cut the bullshit, Dahlgren,” Dundlemore said as the third of their number reappeared, white faced and wiping the vomit from his chin. “Let’s just get this over with. There’s going to be an investigation, do you hear me? Things are back to normal now, and you can’t go around killing whoever you like. We have laws again.”

  “Do you doubt what I’ve told you?” Ken asked, narrowing his eyes at Dundlemore.

  “I certainly do. How do I know that he’s the one who killed poor Nate? God rest his soul,” Dundlemore asked, nodding to Doc. “And we’re supposed to just take your word for it that the blonde girl is dead? You could be holding her against her will.”

  “Yeah,” agreed one of the young men.

  Ken’s eyes grew large, and he pointed to Vetter’s body. “Pick him up, right now. Don’t worry about the stairs. We’re going out through the garage.”

  Jimmy’s breath caught in his throat at the words. He had no desire to see what Doc had done to Paula, and his imagination ran wild at the thought of it. Still, he knew that sooner or later, he and Ken would have to haul both bodies out back and bury them with the others. He watched as Ken hoisted the bottle of whiskey and took a long pull on the amber liquid. Jimmy brushed past the dumb-struck Dundlemore and took the bottle from Ken as Vetter’s body was rolled up in the spotted blue tarp.

  “Don’t forget his hand,” growled Ken. “Pick it up, Dundlemore. You carry it.”

  Mark Dundlemore’s jaw dropped as he stared at the ivory-colored stump of hand. “Do you have a bag or something I could put it in?”

  Ken raised his handgun and pointed it between Dundlemore’s eyes. “Nope,” he said, “just deal with it, asshole. I’m done messing around.”

  Jimmy watched as the ashen-faced Dundlemore picked up the severed hand by the tip of the index finger. He held it out in front of himself as if it were a soiled diaper. Ken reached up and unhooked the glowing oil lantern from its perch above the workbench and handed it to Jimmy. “Take this,” he said. “All right, follow me. Watch your step, boys; the garage is kind of a mess.”

  With Ken leading the way, followed closely by a clearly disgusted Dundlemore, the procession moved to the garage door. Ken gave Jimmy a solemn nod just before he opened the door and disappeared inside.

  “Oh, my God!” gasped Mark Dundlemore. “What the hell happened in here?”

  Jimmy held the door open for the men carrying Vetter’s body and felt sweat bead up on his forehead. He steeled himself against what was to come and slowly followed them into the garage, holding the lantern up in front of him.

  Leaning against the garage wall was Ken’s double-bitted axe. The head and upper axe handle looked as if they had been painted red. The garage was thick with the smell of spilled blood. Mark Dundlemore doubled over and vomited where he stood.

  “Still believe she isn’t dead?” Ken asked, unsympathetically. “Maybe you’d like to check her pulse?”

  There was blood everywhere, splattered on all four walls and completely covering the floor.

  Jimmy stared at the savaged body and found that he couldn’t imagine Doc having done such a thing. How many swings he had taken with the axe was hard to tell. Jimmy estimated it to be somewhere between fifty and a hundred. The most haunting aspect was that Doc had been careful not to strike Paula in the face. She stared back at them with terrified eyes, her jaw hung open in a silent scream. Jimmy quickly looked away, but not before the scene was imprinted permanently in his memory.

  “What kind of people are you?” Dundlemore asked, waiting for Ken to hoist the garage door.

  Ken quit fumbling with the chain lock just long enough to reply. “We’re Americans,” he said, as if it was some sort of revelation.

  After Mark Dundlemore and his young friends had disappeared outside the gate, Jimmy and Ken closed it tight and dropped the lock into place. One at a time, they silently hauled the bodies out to the shed and began
cleaning up the horrible mess that Doc had made. Ken used an old string mop in the garage while Jimmy used a bucket and a sponge in the workshop. One thing they both had learned about blood: you never wanted it to sit for too long. Jimmy was smoking a cigarette as Ken pushed his mop bucket in from the garage and over to the washtub. He dumped the bucket into the tub and rinsed it out before sticking the mop head under the faucet. Jimmy watched Ken as he worked and quietly worried about his friend. He had so much on his plate; Patty was upstairs in what Doc had called critical condition, and now Doc was gone.

  “Guys,” Julie called from the top of the stairs. “You’d better get up here and see this.”

  Jimmy and Ken exchanged a glance and began to move to the stairs.

  “Oh, my God,” exclaimed Julie. “I think they’re going to attack us!”

  “Get up there!” Ken ordered Jimmy. “I’ll go out through the garage and meet you out front. Hurry!”

  Jimmy charged up the stairs, through the kitchen and out into the living room. Julie was standing there and tossed Jimmy his assault rifle. One of the steel ammo boxes was open on the table, and Jimmy began stuffing loaded clips into his waistband. Julie deftly slapped a clip into her own M-16, picked up the ammo box and waved Jimmy to the front porch where Cindy, dressed in her pajamas and a bathrobe, stood at the window.

  “Cindy,” called Jimmy. “Quick, douse the lights!”

  Following Julie through the front door, Jimmy ran to the edge of the deck and took a deep breath as he saw the cause for Julie’s concern. The motorhome had been positioned in the grassy area near the lake, directly across from their gate. Dozens of dark forms stood around the motorhome, and one man stood defiantly on top; it was Mark Dundlemore. “Dahlgren!” he shouted. “Either you come out here willingly, or we’re coming in to get you! You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to our friends!”

  Jimmy dropped his sights on Dundlemore, and Julie quickly pushed the barrel away. “Wait,” she hissed. “We’re not firing the first shots.”

  “Pay for what?” roared Ken from the darkness below. “I explained to you what happened!”

  “Do you hear that?” Dundlemore asked his cronies. “He said he explained what happened. You all saw Nate’s body. They butchered him!”

  “We didn’t butcher anyone!” shouted Jimmy. “The man who killed your friends is dead. You saw him!”

  Illuminated by the roaring fire next door, Dundlemore danced like a court jester on top of the idling motorhome, clearly angry at being challenged. “You should have stopped him!” he screeched. “You were responsible for their safety, Dahlgren! You allowed those kids to be murdered! Come out here like a man and face your punishment!”

  “Kiss my ass!” shouted Ken. “And get that goddamn motorhome off my property. You’ve got two minutes!”

  Dundlemore jittered about on his stage like a man on fire. “Did you hear him?” he shrieked to his followers. “He’s telling us to get off of his property!”

  “Oh, my God,” whispered Cindy from behind them. “That guy’s a lunatic.”

  “Worse,” replied Julie. “He’s a lunatic with an army.”

  “I’m going up on the wall,” Jimmy said. “Julie, you stay here and give me cover. I think they’re going to try and ram the gate. Cindy, we need you. Grab a rifle and go out back behind the woodpile. Shoot anything that moves.”

  “Right,” nodded Cindy. “Shoot anything that moves, got it.”

  “Is that your final answer?” Dundlemore asked, as if they were playing some sort of game.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” hollered Ken. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

  Again, Dundlemore twisted around in the firelight. “Oh, you have no idea what you’re up against!” he mimicked. “Oh, we’re so scared, aren’t we boys? You have no idea what you’re up against, Dahlgren! We’ve got guns and half of these guys are ex-military! What do you think of that, smart guy?”

  “I think you’re going to get them all killed!” replied Ken. “Don’t listen to him, boys! That man on top of the motorhome is an idiot!”

  Jimmy leaned his rifle against the railing and took Julie in his arms. “I love you,” he whispered. He took her into his arms and kissed her deeply. “Be careful,” he said, picking up his rifle and gliding down the stairs to the wall.

  “I’m an idiot?” asked Dundlemore, the rage clear in his quavering voice. “I’m an idiot? Did you hear that, boys? The butcher just called me an idiot! We gave you your chance to act like a man, Dahlgren! I always had you figured for a coward! Let’s get him, boys!”

  Jimmy joined Ken on the platform behind the wall, but there was no sign of Mark Dundlemore. Ken and Jimmy watched the darting shadows below as they moved into position, and Jimmy knew they were hopelessly outnumbered. A moment later, the idling motorhome suddenly lurched forward and with a deafening crash slammed into the front gate, snapping the timber lock and bulldozing its way inside their compound. The wall swayed, nearly knocking both Jimmy and Ken off of their feet. Jimmy heard a war cry arise from those following the motorhome, but those whoops were soon drowned out by the sound of Ken and his M-50. In the blackness, Jimmy could see the muzzle flash as fire spat from the end of the brutish weapon. He could also tell by the flash that the rounds were sailing well above the attackers.

  When Ken’s rifle was exhausted, Julie let loose with a volley of her own. Jimmy quickly found that she hadn’t needed to do so, as the backup lights of the motorhome were already on, and scores of young men were fleeing back in the direction of the lodge. In those lights, Jimmy could see the running men held nothing more lethal than baseball bats. By the time Julie’s M-16 had gone quiet, the motorhome was back outside the wall and roaring back toward the lodge.

  The entire battle had lasted less than a minute.

  Jimmy, ears ringing, and nearly blinded by muzzle flash, climbed down the ladder and shoved hard against the gate. The gate groaned and protested, but somehow Jimmy was able to return it to a closed position.

  “You’re not supposed to have those!” cried Mark Dundlemore from the darkness. “They’re illegal! You guys are in so much trouble!”

  “Why don’t you come over here and try to take them from us?” replied Ken, nearly running the length of the wall.

  “We don’t have to!” shouted Dundlemore. “The authorities will be here soon. Why don’t you tell them that?”

  “Go lay by your dish, asshole!” replied Ken. He leaned his rifle up against the corner of the wall and climbed down to join Jimmy and Julie at the gate.

  Dundlemore continued to shout threats as a pair of headlights whizzed past on the other side of the wall.

  “How did you know they weren’t armed?” Jimmy asked, trying to fit a chunk of wood into what remained of the lock.

  “I guessed,” said Ken. “Don’t worry about the lock. We won’t be needing it anymore.”

  “I don’t trust them,” said Julie. “We’re going to have to keep a guard posted at the wall.”

  Jimmy could barely make out Ken’s face in the darkness, but he could hear the emotion in his voice as he spoke. He had never heard sound this way—old and defeated, ready to throw in the towel and face whatever awaited on the outside.

  “No,” Ken said, pausing to collect himself as his voice broke. “Let’s get packed up and get the hell out of here. We can’t fight our way out of this one, and to tell you the truth, I don’t ever want to touch another gun as long as I live. I’m done killing. I’m done with all of it. I’ve got to get Patty to a hospital.”

  Jimmy watched as Ken turned away, and Julie rushed to his side and flung her arms around him. Ken didn’t return the gesture, but he bent down and kissed the top of her head before he continued up to the house.

  “What’s going on over there?” shouted Dundlemore. “Don’t you try anything stupid, Dahlgren! We’re unarmed and we have women and children over here… Dahlgren?”

  Chapter 7

  “If you can take the
hot lead enema, then you can cast the first stone.” ~ Lenny Bruce

  They left him out there without another word. He had beaten them without so much as firing a single shot. Mark Dundlemore had come armed with something that none of their previous attackers possessed: authorities. He had played more or less by the rules, and he would be rewarded for that. Ken realized this and knew it was time to move on.

  “No guns,” Ken said while they tossed together some things. “They stay here.”

  Ken would carry Patty over his shoulder down to the Tahoe where he somehow got her inside and belted into the front passenger seat. Bill, his ruined Honda still pasted to a nearby tree, climbed into the back of the Tahoe next to Cindy. Jimmy and Julie would ride together in the Mack, which they’d loaded with what they wished to take away from the home they had shared for nearly two years. They worked quietly in the dark, being careful not to tip their hand to the new guy on the block. Moving out took less than an hour. Jimmy and Ken pried the gate back open, and they waited a moment to see if Dundlemore would try something foolish. They were only met with silence.

  “Are you ready?” Jimmy asked, staring at Julie as he buckled himself into the driver’s seat.

  “I don’t know,” Julie replied. “I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  There was a tap on the glass of Jimmy’s window, and he turned to see Ken.

  “Kid, I need you to help me with one last thing up in the house. It won’t take a minute.”

  “I’ll help,” Julie said, reaching for the buckle of her seatbelt.

  “No,” Ken said. “You stay out here and keep an eye on things. This won’t take long.”

  Jimmy reached over and patted Julie’s thigh, reassuringly. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

  They said nothing as they walked up the hill to the back of the dark house. Ken led Jimmy to the shed. Jimmy followed in the starlight, wondering what Ken had in mind. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Ken opened the shed door, and Jimmy waited outside. The bodies of two people he had loved were inside there, and he had no desire to see them. A moment later, Ken reemerged carrying two five-gallon cans of gasoline.