Desolation

He followed the course of the river on the opposite side of the Wright Ranch. He would start this battle and he hoped he would be the one who also ended it by taking out Wilber Wright before anyone else could. Where the river took a turn and moved away from the Wrights’ house, along the ridge, Thomas crossed the river and quietly trudged uphill. At a fence line, he stepped in something that smelled like alcohol. He swung up and over the fence and stopped, waiting and listening. When he was sure there was no one else, he moved up the hill, hugging the ridge line. His troops should be at the fence line waiting for his signal, which he hoped would be a shot that took out someone important: maybe Wilber Wright, the man that mocked him and the Teacher.

In no time he gained the top of the hill, where the Wrights’ home and supplies were. Beyond this point was a clearing with many buildings. A noise alerted him from behind: a clanging, metal on metal. Thomas turned to see a flash at the top of the windmill turbine tower, and then a couple more flashes, and then one flash. Morse code. Shit, I’ve been spotted. He worked his way back into the trees when he heard a small pop followed by a sharp pain in his side. Then, another pop and a pain erupted in his ass. Someone was shooting at him with a .22 from the tower. Another pop and his right ear exploded blood on his face. He ducked behind a shed that reeked of pigs.

He pulled up his shirt and saw that he had been hit good; the little bullet had gone in his back and come out his stomach. A shot of pain rocketed through him and he sat down, square on his right ass-cheek, which sent another bolt of lightning up his back. He felt the side of his head and found his ear was a muddled mess of flesh and blood dripping down. “God dammit.” How could some prick do this to him?

Thompson Journal Entry

Continued…

Rely on each other

In spite of all that I have told you about the dangers of trusting even your neighbors, you will not be able to survive solely on your own. There will be people you will take in and make part of your family and on whom you must rely. Each person that becomes part of your group will have unique talents. What will make your group strong enough to survive, besides luck, is cultivating those unique talents for the betterment of your group.

Just remember, when things look hopeless, rely on each other.

34. Fire!

Rocky Point, Mexico

El Diablo’s men did exactly as he had asked; they waited patiently, staying out of the line of fire, refusing to be provoked into a firefight. He was very proud of them. Then these crazy gringos decided to burn this family alive and destroy all their supplies. What’s the point of that? If there was a benefit in setting the house on fire, then they would have done it themselves. But it made no sense to destroy the supplies, which were far more important than the people inside. Burning the house and the supplies and people in it was estúpido. He knew then he had to secure Señor Thompson’s house before those pendejos burned it down, too.

He signaled his two forward teams to move toward the beach and around to the back of Señor Thompson’s beach house. He and Gigante stepped out from the shadows, to take out the threat and lead his teams, when they came under fire from a shooter on the roof. They returned to the front of the house and intended to signal his two men on point, but he didn’t have eyes on them. He assumed they must have sought cover as well. “We wait until the other assault teams come around and take the shot,” he whispered to Gigante.

A large crash above and on the side of the house begged a peek. Diablo watched a Mexican man scampering across a ladder like a rat running from a burning ship, from this roof to the other. These gringos might not be so stupid after all. Another couple of shots rang out from Señor Thompson’s roof, sending bits of plaster and paint past their faces.

~~~