Pushing On

16

They’d tied something to Miller’s finger. Some kind of simple tourniquet. It seemed to have stopped the blood.

The pain was there. Weird pain. Strong and powerful, but not acute. It pulsed, coming and going in intensity.

Miller sat between the two biggest guys in the backseat of his own SUV.

They were hurtling down the road, driving fast across a mixture of paved and dirt roads. They were heading back the way that Miller had driven just hours ago.

Miller’d had no options. He’d had to tell them something. They’d wanted the location of the radio, and they would have killed him.

In many ways, Miller longed for death. It would all be over. This nightmare. If he was dead, he wouldn’t be haunted by the loss of his family. Or so he hoped. He’d never been a spiritual man, and he didn’t know what waited him on the other side. He’d never put much thought into it before. But now he found his thoughts drifting in that direction.

But it was better to stay alive.

He wasn’t going to give up yet.

Miller was angry with himself. The anger went with the pain that radiated from his finger. He was angry that he hadn’t taken the time to calm down enough to form a reasonable plan. Instead, he’d just dashed away from the farmhouse, driving at top speed. He’d thought that his plan had made sense. Enough sense, at least.

But the plan had shattered when it ran up against the reality of these hardened killers. They weren’t going to fall for something so silly, so juvenile. It had sounded too easy to Miller, the whole plan, and that should have been a warning sign to himself.

Miller hadn’t known where to tell them the radio was. Of course, there was no radio. So what he’d needed was a place where he had some chance of killing these guys, or at least escaping himself, as unharmed as possible.

He’d debated about whether to tell them to go to the farmhouse. On one hand, if those people were still there, Max’s brother, whatever his name was, then it gave Miller a chance of surviving. But it also would put them all at risk.

In the end, Miller was so bent on revenge he told them how to get to the farmhouse.

He figured the people there would be able to take care of themselves. They had plenty of guns, after all.

But Miller was racked with guilt. Maybe he’d end up being responsible for the death of other innocents, not just his own family.

“Is this the place?”

Miller looked out the window. It was the driveway to the farmhouse all right.

“Yeah,” said Miller.

The pain in his hand was bad.

“Keep driving. This is the place.”

The atmosphere in the car was tense. The guys seemed more nervous than Miller. And that was strange, since Miller seemed to have more at stake.

These guys had no idea that Miller was trying to lead them into a trap. And they didn’t seem concerned about the possibility. What they seemed more concerned about was getting or not getting the radio that their boss so desperately desired.

By the way they talked, it sounded as if their boss was just as vicious with his own men and women as his enemies.

“He’ll reward us, though,” said one. “If we get it.”

“I hope. It could be good. But it could be bad, too. Really bad.”

“How so?”

“What if it’s the wrong radio? What if it doesn’t work?”

“You mean we’re going to disappoint him?”

“Yeah, and trust me when I say you don’t want to see the boss disappointed.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve already seen.”

“Come on, you didn’t see shit. You just joined us a week ago.”

“I saw him cut the throat out of some woman.”

“One of us?”

“Yeah. She’d fallen asleep instead of doing her assigned patrol.”

“Well, she deserved it then.”

“I mean, yeah, she deserved it. But having her throat cut out?”

“What do you mean cut out? You mean he slit her throat, right?”

“No, that would have been better. He just stabbed her, then dug around… literally digging out whatever the hell is in there. She was alive for most of it.”

“Sounds like something Kenny would get up to.”

“I hear that,” said Kenny, chuckling.

“So you scared or what?” A bit of a mocking tone.

“Not scared. Let’s just hope we get the right damn radio.”

“Is this the place?”

Someone jammed the butt of a gun into Miller’s ribs, stirring him.

Miller looked up. They’d driven down the driveway and now they sat in front of the farmhouse. It was battered and weather-beaten. But there it was.

The sunlight was dropping fast on the horizon, hidden behind the trees.

No lights shone in the house. Not a good sign.

Had Miller made another mistake? Maybe they’d already left.

“Come on, asshole.”

Someone grabbed Miller by the collar and dragged him forcibly out of his own SUV.

“You think he’s leading us into a trap?” said Kenny.

“Probably.”

“What do we do then?”

“What do we do? Is this amateur hour? We send him in first, that’s what.”

“How’s that going to help us? If he’s got friends in there, it’ll just help him.”

“Whatever. Who do you think I am? Some kind of genius or something? We just send him in. End of discussion.”

The rest of them muttered vaguely mutinous things under their breath, but Miller wasn’t paying attention.

Miller wasn’t going to balk at the leader’s bad strategic thought. Even if everyone had already left the farmhouse, and Miller was all alone, going in first might just give him the chance he needed.

“Come on, get going.”

Another jab from the butt of a gun.

“Don’t want us to cut off another finger, do you?”

Miller walked slowly towards the farmhouse.

He was trying to take as much time as he could. He needed the time to think of a plan. But nothing was coming to him. Nothing at all.

Normally he was resourceful. Normally he was quick and strong.

But the strength seemed to have drained out of him. Maybe it was the disappointment of his dumb plan failing so horribly. Maybe it was the loss of his family finally hitting him with full force. Now that the anger was gone, sadness would come rushing in.

“Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”

“Yeah, asshole, hurry up.”

Miller reached the door and turned the handle.

He went inside, leaving the door open. He didn’t want to give them an excuse to think he was up to something.

“Give him a minute,” Miller heard one of them say. “And then we go in.”

“This plan still doesn’t make any sense.”

“Just shut up. Unless you think you’re the boss. Do you?”

Miller was out of earshot now, leaving the bickering idiots behind him.

But they were heavily armed idiots.

As soon as Miller entered the living room, he knew that he was alone. Max’s brother and the others had left.

That option was gone.

On to plan B.

There was no plan C.

He needed to defend himself. He needed a weapon. His mind started going to tall lamps and fire pokers, anything he could get his hands on. He’d go down with a fight if he had to go down.

But that was before Miller saw an unbelievable sight. Guns. Lots of guns. Still in the living room.

Miller could barely believe it.

Miller had been counting down in his head, as best he could. Counting down from 60.

He was at 30 now. That meant 30 more seconds before they came in. If they stuck to their plan, which was unlikely. Maybe they’d be in sooner, maybe later.

Miller dove down to the guns. He ignored the pain in his hand as he tried to match ammunition with firearms. Everything had been all jumbled up, as if someone who didn’t know what they were doing had tried to make sense of all the guns and ammo.

Fifteen seconds left. It was getting close.

Miller heard heavy footsteps. They were coming.

It felt like an eternity was passing as Miller searched for a gun that had ammo.

Finally, he found it. An M&P compact, already loaded. Miller knew his guns. He checked it. He flicked off the safety.

He couldn’t take them all. Not like this.

But he could get one. Then run. And then get the next one. And on and on until they were all gone and only Miller lived.

That was the plan, anyway.

Miller had spent plenty of time at his own target range, on his own property.

He crouched down, one knee on the ground, using a wall as partial cover.

He held the gun in front of him, finger on the trigger. His left hand, bloodied and throbbing with pain, wasn’t much good to steady his right hand with. He did the best he could, gripping his left hand around his right hand’s wrist.

He took a deep breath.

The footsteps were louder.

Miller didn’t have much time to think. The last thing he remembered thinking was, “How could these guys be stupid enough to give me this chance?”

Maybe this chance was the only one he had. It was the only one he needed.

One of the nameless underlings entered first. Gun in hand. His expression registered shock. Only briefly.

Miller squeezed the trigger twice. Hit the guy in the chest. He went down with a thud.

Someone barked orders outside.

Miller didn’t have much time. He was up in a flash, dashing out of the room, towards the back of the house.

The way he saw it, he had two options. Head out the back and try to escape into the woods.

Or stay in the house and fight.

Miller’s foot hit the bottom of the staircase. His body had made the decision for him. It was better that way. Better not to let the brain get too involved. Thoughts and feelings had nothing to say now. Nothing good. Miller was running on pure instinct.

“He’s heading upstairs!”

A shot rang out behind Miller. Pieces of the ancient plaster wall scattered in the air. The bullet was lodged in the wall.

Miller made it around the corner at the top of the stairs.

Another shot.

Miller got into position. As best he could, around the cover of the wall.

“Careful. He’s waiting for you.”

Miller controlled his breathing. He kept it low and shallow, hopefully not audible.

The footsteps on the staircase were heavy. Was it one of them or two?

Miller’s trigger finger was itchy. This may not have been the revenge he’d dreamed of, but it was revenge nonetheless. It might be all that he got.

There were only a few seconds left before they got up the stairs.

For a second, Miller closed his eyes, pulling up remembered images of his wife and son. They’d been at a local summer picnic, only weeks before the EMP. They’d been eating watermelon, and laughing at how much Miller had managed to get on his button-down blue shirt that his wife had bought him for his previous birthday.

So much had changed.

If only there was a way back.

The footsteps had reached the last step. Miller knew because it squeaked like hell.

Miller’s eyes were open and he was ready.