Chapter Four: Lead War

Matt didn’t wake up that morning thinking he’d be neck-deep in the hornet’s nest that was Adam Ellis’s drug and nine-year-old-kidnapping ring by sundown; let alone be handed a large rifle and told to guard said nine-year-old at Red Bull station with thirty other men, including who he assumed to be the infamous Blaine Gibson, a tall, handsome-faced man with a very muscular build that circled around the perimeter on a black Quarter horse with a large bag of rocks strapped to the saddle. He tossed a fist-sized one up and down in his right hand, threatening to nail anyone who thought of turning on Ellis. Matt knew the threat was aimed at him in particular, being the new guy pulled on at the very last second.

When he first arrived at Red Bull, he needed to signal Ray (who he simply had to believe was watching him) that Millie was indeed at the station with them by adjusting his hat to sit farther back on his head, away from his eyes; however, she was nowhere to be seen for a good three hours, leaving him in a state of panic because he thought they’d been played by Burnie. The guards just patrolled back and forth without direction or form, checking windows every so often, and going up and down the train platform to ensure no one was sneaking in from the tracks. Blaine elected to roar at one of the guardsmen, a mousy, shorter man by the name of Chris, when he asked where “the package” was near the two hour mark, so everyone kept their jaws clamped shut and their eyes away from Gibson’s.

Millie gave up her location when someone stormed out of the ladies’ room with a bloody nose, screaming at Gibson, who’d begun hollering at him to return to his duty, to “control that feral child” on his own. Gibson had dug his hand into the bag of rocks and cracked one off his knee within the blink of an eye, sending someone else to replace him.

Matt adjusted his hat right then.

He knew Ray was perched somewhere high up to provide only the most needed of backup, Jack was waiting just outside the station’s perimeter with a shotgun, awaiting Ray’s signal to move in, and Ryan was on the opposite side of the station, ready to jump the guards from behind by sneaking in through the maintenance closet’s window. The horses were waiting a good mile up the tracks, tethered away from danger on a light post.

Thunder was still roaring above them, giving Ryan the audio cover to force open the window and sneak inside. The door was completely shut, so he had no way of seeing into the station. He hid behind a shelf just in case someone walked in, being careful not to slip on any water he treaded in.

“CAN NONE OF YOU DO YOUR F*CKING JOBS!” he heard someone screech. “SHE’S A F*CKING CHILD! IT SHOULDN’T BE THAT HARD TO KEEP HER FROM GETTING OUT!”

Ryan ducked farther behind the shelf.

“Why don’t you watch her?” a muffled voice retorted.

“BECAUSE I HAVE TO LOOK AFTER YOU F*CKWADS OUT HERE! NEW GUY!”

“Yes, sir?” Matt responded.

“GET IN THERE! AND DON’T COME BACK OUT!”

Matt adjusted his hat again to make sure Ray got the signal and made for the ladies’ room immediately, joining the guardsman already watching the bathroom window.

Outside, lighting illuminated the sniper waving his hands around over his head.

 “What? Are you the next guy I get to kick in the face?”

Matt spun around to face the back of the bathroom, where a tied-up, but otherwise relatively unharmed Millie was grimacing at him. She had some clearly foreign blood on her knee and foot from the last two broken noses she caused. From her eyes, Matt could see that she was acting like she didn’t know him, so he went with it.

“No, I know to stay clear of you,” he answered. “Powerful little thing, huh?”

“Lucky for me, no one taught these bozos how to fight.”

The other man growled, “Shut the f*ck up, kid, or I’ll break your teeth!”

“Hey! She’s just a kid.”

“I don’t know why anyone would teach a f*cking child how to fight.”

“Someone taught you how to fight?” Matt asked Millie, still playing stranger just long enough for him to get behind the other guard. Without even waiting for an answer, he slammed the butt of his rifle into the man’s head, sending him into the sinks, one of which broke off and shattered to the floor, turning to the window to smash it out with the rifle as well.

“Behind you!” she screamed.

He turned around and fired twice, hitting a goon in the gut.

“CUT YOURSELF FREE!” he commanded, tossing her the guardsman’s knife and taking down another man.

Ryan burst out of the supply closet and shot the first three people in front of him before being noticed by the rest of the group, some of whom turned away from the ladies’ room and started firing at him, forcing him to duck behind cover.

“GO!” he screamed at Jack, who opened fire from the platform, taking out four men with a single shotgun shell. He aimed two quick rounds at Gibson, who was fixing to run just outside the door, but couldn’t continue shooting at him from the angle of the supply closet. Above them, a window shattered and two men dropped like ragdolls, a sign of life from Ray.

“BLACK HORSE! BLACK HORSE!” Jack roared at the sniper, looking up just in time to see him turn away from the station and take aim somewhere outside.

It was impossible to see very far in the rain and darkness from the room of Red Bull, but he fired round after round in pursuit of Gibson, who was high-tailing it back into town on his Quarter horse. Near the end of his ammunition, he sprayed wildly in his direction, randomly catching either Gibson or the horse so that it bucked him off and galloped two steps before collapsing on the ground with a whine.

Inside, Jack and Ryan were in a bad way, each getting shot at from different directions that made it impossible for them to move up. Matt, having mowed down nine men from the bathroom, opened fire in Jack’s direction, opening up a pocket for him to shotgun three men on Ryan’s side of the station. The rest of them were being picked off by Ray from above.

“RYAN!” Matt screamed, “RYAN, BAIL! GO!”

He darted back out of the window and around the station, into the window that Matt busted in the ladies’ room, holding his hat low over his eyes to prevent the worst of the rain blinding him. Millie, who’d cut herself free, crawled to him and hauled herself up.

“I GOT HER, MATT!” he announced, pulling the girl through the window while being careful not to cut her on glass shards.

As soon as he heard the Tracker’s voice, Matt slammed the bathroom door shut and dove out of the window after them alongside Jack, who was still blind-firing behind them to keep the rest of Ellis’s men off their tracks, joining a mad dash for the horses’ hiding spot. In a tingle of worry, the sheriff scanned the rooftop for their sniper, just barely glimpsing him slide down the roof and hop down to the ground. Matt took off behind Ryan to protect Millie, while he stayed behind to let Ray catch up to him.

“JACK, GO, GO, GO!” the Puerto Rican screamed when he got closer. He shouted, “KEEP RUNNING!” to Matt, who looked like he was stopping to assist them.

Gunshots could still be heard from behind them, but because the Quarter horse had been taken down and there weren’t any other horses directly outside the station, they didn’t need to worry about being hit by bullets; they still needed to run for safety quickly, though, because the guards’ animals could very well be in the Red Bull Stables, which would lead to a problem if they didn’t get Millie to the safe house quickly enough. They were counting on the rain to wipe their tracks clean; they needed a decent head-start to do that.

They’d brought Ashley’s horse, Rose, who knew they were assured knew the way to the safe house without needing direction, from Rooster Teeth so that she could split with them if need be. “Just make sure you get there regardless of what happens, okay? Laurie will meet you there,” he explained to Millie.

“Saddle up, let’s go!” Ray commanded, untethering all the horses once they’d reached the tracks. Jack and Ryan supported Millie as they practically threw her onto the saddle and handed her the reigns, Ryan giving her his shawl to prevent Millie from freezing in the rain; she was soaked to the bone already, which would no doubt get worse on the back of a galloping horse.

“FORMATION! FORMATION!” Ryan called, directing them to take the form they’d planned, a simple diamond around Millie that would protect her from the back and both sides, while Ryan, who was more used to being on horseback in pelting rain, lead them all to the designated location: Burnie’s cottage. It was the best option for them because it was out of town, easy to defend by one person, already had medical supplies, and everyone else in the group knew exactly where it was. The women at the saloon were going to meet them there, too.

“BE CAREFUL! KEEP YOUR WEAPONS DRAWN!” Jack announced as the horses broke into a full gallop and they all headed for the cottage.

.....

Meg and Griffon helped an icy Millie off her horse and into a blanket at the cottage while Laurie scrubbed over her husband, Ray, Jack, and Matt to check for any wounds. Apart from the cut on Matt’s face being split open again and little nicks from flying shrapnel, they made the extraction without any injuries, a green light for them to saddle up and book it to the inn, where Gavin was supposed to be waiting. Ryan took Eli from Laurie’s arms, protectively kissing the toddler’s forehead, while Griffon held her daughter in a death grip, stifling tears and hiccups.

They made for the door with quick, sloppy goodbye hugs and kisses, when suddenly, Laurie called them back.

She grabbed Matt in a tight hug. “You all know how strong you are �" I don’t need to ramble on and on about that,” �" she hugged Jack next �" “but I want you all to know that we love you with every fiber of our being,” �" Ray was the last �" “and that nothing, nothing will stop you if you don’t let it. Have each other’s backs, watch your own, don’t hesitate,” �" she let go and stepped back �" “and don’t you dare let them get away with this. We’re all family; show them what happens when you mess with that.”

“Will do, ma’am,” Ray saluted in a lighthearted gesture.

“I have Deputy Dunkleman, Officer Luna, and Officer Marquis, among others, isolating the inn from the rest of town. I will send one of them if we need another man; stay here unless someone comes for you,” Jack instructed Ryan.

Ryan nodded. “Got it. I told you the secondary already. If we’re not here, check there.”

“Be careful,” was the last thing he said before they left.

“How is she?” he asked Laurie, who mumbled something small about needing space to work. He turned his attention to the rest of the cottage.

“Meg?”

“Yeah. Ryan?”

“Grab your gun and follow me,” he instructed while he set Eli down on the couch. “We need to make sure no one else is here. Where are Lindsay and Tina?”

“With Michael.” She replied, cocking her firearm. “Ashley’s over there, too.”

Tina, whose formerly emotional face was replaced with an expression of seriousness, made her presence known from the door of Michael’s room by cocking her weapon, a small black pistol. “Ashley and I are armed. She can look out for them; I’ve got these two covered.”

Ashley agreed from Michael’s room, appearing in the doorway with a gun of her own aimed towards the ground.

“How’s Millie looking?” she asked Laurie, who merely nodded, too engrossed in caring for the girl to formulate a verbal response. Millie was beginning to shiver violently from being so cold, so Laurie had piled cushions around her while Griffon dried her hair with a towel. She also had a few cuts on her arms and legs from the window that needed to be bandaged, despite Ryan’s best efforts to pull her out safely, so her mother blotted away droplets of blood wherever she could reach.

“Go around the back first?” Meg asked.

He nodded, adding, “Double-check the bushes.”

.....

The rest of the Sunny Gang arrived to the scene unfolding at the inn, greeted by an anxiously pacing Geoff. The Deputy and Officers were taking cover behind shrubbery on the other side.

“Where’s Gavin?” Matt asked, scanning around their area of shrubs to make sure the Brit wasn’t also taking cover. The distressed man grabbed fistfuls of his hair, groaning something with his eyes squeezed shut. Jack, who was standing closer to Geoff than Matt, had an expression of horror drawn on his features. Matt stepped closer.

“When? When did this happen?” the sheriff whimpered.

Geoff mumbled, “A few minutes ago. He was running back from telling the townsfolk to hunker down when he got snagged. I’m thinking someone from the station made it back here and told Ellis about the hit; he’s got people circling the town looking for us. What the f**k do we do?”

Jack huffed. “Continue as planned.”

“WE CAN’T CONTINUE AS PLANNED, DUMBA*S! GAVIN’S IN THERE ENTIRELY AT ELLIS’S NONEXISTANT MERCY, BURNIE’S ALREADY PART OF THE MEETING, AND RYAN ISN’T HERE! WE’RE F*CKED, JACK, THAT’S IT; WE’VE LOST!”

“No we haven’t! Play it like we have another person on the inside!”

“WE HAVE NO WAY OF TELLING HIM THAT!”

“HE’LL FIGURE IT OUT!” Jack howled, silencing Geoff. “I’ll chuck a f*cking rock with a note through the window, I’ll scream at the top of my lungs, we’ll burst in there guns blazing, but we’re not just going to lay down and let him have his way! That’s family in there, you hear me? FAMILY! Now man up!”

Nothing.

“Pick up your f*cking gun!”

Geoff swallowed thickly, un-holstering his weapon and gripping it tightly in his left hand. He took in a shaky breath, letting his lungs expand fully with humid, rainy air before expelling it and pushing his sopping hair out of his face. Jack waved over his head to get Deputy Dunkleman’s attention. She gave him a thumbs-up, we’re good to go. Instead of returning the signal, he held up a closed fist. She nodded and darted out of sight.

.....

“You know, little Gavin, I tend to have a very long patience with people that step in my way,” a distant voice said to the Brit, who had been slipping in and out of consciousness for what seemed like an eternity. He could tell his arms were behind him from the way his shoulders were painfully numb, and the discomfort he felt around his ankles told him his legs were also bound together; where they were relative to him, though, he couldn’t figure out. His head was hurting something brutal in a spot just above his ear, and he felt like it took all his effort to wheeze past his throat.

A hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked, the same voice screaming, “DID YOU HEAR ME?” loud enough to send needle-like anguish radiating across his skull. His eyes slid open to come to a hazy focus on a face mere inches from his, a blurred bit of tan flanked top and bottom with a reddish brown. The hand in his hair jarred his head again, this time making his neck pop loudly. Searing, fiery pain shot across his head again, eliciting a strained gurgle from Gavin, who came to realize that his mouth was filled with blood.

“I asked you where the rest of your group is,” the man said slowly. “Where’ve they taken that little girl?”

Gavin smiled dangerously. He spit the blood out to his right, answering, “You’ll never find them.”

The man clamped a hand around his throat, hissing, “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

Gavin, undeterred by the threat, chuckled. He choked out, “Go ahead. Do whatever you want… You’ll never be able to shake us… You want The Sunny Gang?” �" he coughed �" “Look behind you.”

The man seemed to contemplate for a few seconds before letting Gavin go harshly. He spun around and barked at one of his men. “Go get Blaine! This one will need a little… persuading.”

Gavin took in his surroundings to orient himself. They were definitely on the second floor, probably on the southernmost side of the inn, where the rooms were just above the display of bushes and flowers that Meg magically kept alive and well in the sweltering summer heat. And because it’d been raining for a solid three days, the woody parts of them would’ve become supple from all the moisture, making a near-perfect bed for him to land on �" so long as he didn’t miss.

All he needed to do was either jump out, or get himself thrown out. The former seemed to be the most favorable.

He flexed his wrists under his bindings, feeling a knot brush the very tip of his middle finger when he did so. He repeated the movement, feeling the knot hit his knuckle this time.

“Ellis!” someone �" Gavin was almost certain it was Burnie �" called from down the hallway, “Gibson’s not well enough to move yet!”

The bearded man �" Adam Ellis �" stormed out of the room.

“What did you say?” he growled.

In a slow, careful tone, Burnie repeated his statement. “He was shot in the leg, so he’s not going to be doing anything without a horse.”

Silence.

Gavin worked the knot into his reach by using the wall behind him for leverage.

“THEN GET IN THERE, AND BEAT IT OUT OF HIM!” Ellis roared suddenly while a form came flying in through the door and landed heavily right in front of Gavin. A pair of glasses skidded to a stop farther away from him. The man on the floor seized and replaced them on the bridge of his nose.

 He took a quick look at Gavin and widened his eyes, silently telling him he planned on stalling. Burnie picked himself up slowly, eyeing Ellis with a look that could slaughter doves in midair, who stepped over him and stood in front of the window. Still low to the ground, Burnie sat back on his haunches with both hands closed into fists on his knees, defiantly staying put. Ellis’s smile vanished.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that, Burns-”

“Or you’ll… strangle me?” he finished the statement. “Don’t make threats you won’t follow through on; it makes you look weak.”

“Get. Up.” Adam snarled.

Burnie didn’t move. He was giving Gavin time to free himself.

Adam took a long step towards him and made to connect his boot with Burnie’s face. He caught the kick effortlessly, without moving a stray muscle or changing the expression on his face. Ellis, taken aback, didn’t move either. Within the blink of an eye �" before Ellis could even think of doing anything to stop him �" Burnie slammed his other elbow into Ellis’s knee and twisted himself at the waist to send the big man toppling into the wall, the dull thud and huff of air telling Gavin that the drug lord had the wind all but knocked out of him.

“You also shouldn’t piss off your attack dogs,” Burnie spat, standing up to tower over Ellis, who was now bleeding from the nose. “They might come back to bite you.” He yanked a hunting knife from his boot, unsheathing it and hurling the leather pouch in Gavin’s direction without looking back to make it seem like a random throw. There was a smaller knife still inside it.

Gavin worked the knot faster.

Ellis swung at Burnie, but to no avail; with a grunt, he caught the arm, buried the knife to the hilt in Adam’s forearm, and then clamped his mouth shut to muffle the latter’s scream. Ellis took another swing with his uninjured hand and sent the knife skidding across the floor, having connected a solid blow to Burnie’s jaw. He spun around and grabbed for it, but Ellis flipped him over and shoved his knee into his gut, wrapping his good arm around Burnie’s throat.

“GAVIN, RUN!” he screamed, punching Ellis in the face.

Just in time, Gavin undid the knots on his wrists and sliced the roped around his ankles with the smaller knife. while Ellis reeled from the blow. Burnie kicked him off and got to his feet, sprinting for the door when Ellis snagged his ankle, sending him face-first into the ground.

“GUARDS” Ellis yelled, pulling out his gun and aiming for Gavin. But, before he could fire, Burnie kicked the gun out of his hand towards Gavin.

“WINDOW! GAVIN GO OUT THE WINDOW!” he hollered, struggling with Ellis on the ground.

Gavin picked up the gun and fired at the glass.

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.

.....

“Window! Geoff, the window!”

Gavin was halfway out when a shadowed figure looped a rope around his throat and yanked him back inside. Geoff screamed for him when bullets began to fly, hunks of lead whistling right past his ear and into the brickwork of the inn. From every window, corner, and bush.

Jack obliterated a man running for them with his shotgun.

“TAKE COVER!” Jack shouted, shoving Geoff behind him, where he hunkered down behind a corner. “Take the back door!” he added, shooting another person running towards them.

Geoff and Matt rounded the building and entered the lower level through the back door, which Matt shot the lock off of, leaving Jack and the Officers to the firefight outside. Inside, they made a break for the stairs. Thankfully, everyone in the inn had rushed outside, leaving them clear to proceed.

It was almost pitch black inside, but for a few candles lit in specific areas to mark the stairwell, doors, walls, and corners. They crept up slowly, back-to-back, keeping their eyes peeled for any surprises. Geoff signaled Matt to aim at the door of the room they saw Gavin in. Geoff held up three fingers.

He whispered, “Take the left.”

Geoff dropped one finger.

Matt nodded, tightening his grip on his gun.

Geoff shoved the door open and they rushed inside, seeing nothing but three candles, a pool of blood on the carpet and some splatter on the wall, broken glass from the window, and drag marks.

“He took him to the roof!” Burnie called from near the steps, yanking his knife out of a man’s throat. He was gasping for air and clutching a bullet wound in his shoulder, face deathly pale and knees shaking.

“Oh my God, Burnie, you’re shot!” Geoff said, rushing to his aid.

He held up a hand. “I know that, a*shole! Go after Ellis; he’ll kill Gavin!”

“I’ll stay with him,” Matt said to Geoff, setting Burnie down on the floor.

“Take him to the saloon. Laurie’s got supplies stocked there.”

“Stay frosty,” Burnie told Geoff, who nodded and sprinted up the steps.

Matt dropped his gun on the ground and got to work cutting a strip from the dead guy’s shirt to use as an improvised bandage.

“Pick your weapon back up,” Burnie gasped, “Kdin might have come back.”

Matt stopped.

“Pick your gun up!” he hissed again.

“Where is he?”

Burnie gulped. “No, no, don’t go after him alone-”

Through gritted teeth, Matt repeated, “Where is he?”

“The… Rooster Teeth stables…”he admitted through exhausted breaths. “He was… going to ambush… you all.”

“Then we’ll meet him there,” Matt concluded, hauling Burnie to his feet.

.....

Not a candle was lit on the highest floor of the inn, where the only light that occasionally lit the winding hallways came through dropped shutters and cracked-open blinds in windows that rattled and complained in the wind. The floorboards creaked ominously under Geoff’s light steps, moaning and groaning in protest of being scurried over. He looked back at the stairs, cursing himself for not having a lighter on him, but deciding against going back down to fetch a candle; while having some sort of light would make him more comfortable, it would surely compromise his stealth �" not to mention the fire hazard it would pose, should it fall out of his hand in combat.

Okay, Geoff, he thought to himself, just like old days. Leading with his gun, Geoff stepped slowly and methodically down the hallway by keeping his back as close to the plaster walls as he could without touching them to avoid making noise. He peeked into an open room and found a pallet of wrapped packages, so he ducked into the room, using the door’s key to tear open one of them. To his surprise, white powder, clearly cocaine, poured out of the packet onto his shoes.

“You motherf*cker,” he whispered, pocketing a small amount of it to show Jack later, thinking of a few good drug charges that could be pegged to Ellis’s men.

Checking for anyone in the hallway, he darted back out of the room, locking the door and keeping the key. He waited next to a radiator until lightning flashed, hoping to get a good look at his surroundings for a last-second check before reaching the entrance to the roof, but didn’t get to see very much.

“Sh*t,” he whispered.

He kept low to the ground and darted to a decorative table, then to another, larger table, and finally to the door. Checking behind him one more time to make sure he wasn’t being followed, he began making his way up.

Hang in there, little buddy. I’m coming for you. He thought, gulping down a knot of fear in his throat.

.....

Ryan took off his hat and placed it swiftly on Meg’s head, feeling freezing rain quickly soak through his hair and make his scalp feel like it was shrinking around his skull, causing him to ponder how Meg put up with it for as long as they’d been outside. She reciprocated the kind gesture with a nod, adjusting the slightly-too-large rain shield so it didn’t cover her ears.

“You know,” she mentioned, “You don’t put your hat on someone else unless you plan on bringing them home.”

He grumbled, “I know, but your wellbeing is in question. I can worry about superstitions later.”

“Laurie?”

“Huh?”

“Laurie. What about Laurie?”

Ryan shrugged. “She’ll understand.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.”

 Her head was killing her already, but she powered through the discomfort, brought on by a bad combination of little food, even less sleep, horrendously high stress levels, ceaseless thunder, and stupidly cold temperatures for Texas. They’d cleared the backyard of all moving things (including a rat that Ryan stomped on instinctively and a hapless squirrel that Meg killed in one shot) and were now circling the fence outside, step by tedious step.

“I think we’re good,” Meg said once they’d made it around, lowering her gun.

Ryan agreed, holding open the door. “After you.”

“Nothing?” Laurie clarified as soon as they returned.

“Yeah, everything’s fine out there. How’re you doing, Millie?”

The girl nodded with her eyes still closed, huddling tighter under the blanket and pillows while Laurie picked shards of glass out of her skin, placed them in a small dish Griffon was holding, and then washed down the wounds with peroxide, intensifying the disgusting stench of solvent and copper already polluting the air of their cottage. He was reminded to check on Michael from the smell, so he made his way to the back of the house and peeked his head into the parted door.

Lindsay was sitting next to the bed with one hand entangled with her husband’s and the other smoothing over the bandages on his head and whatever tufts of hair poked through the wrappings. She was whispering soft prayers under her breath, an intimately personal gesture that made Ryan feel awkward to be listening in on. Tina had her gun pointed to the floor and kept her critical gaze on whatever chunk of front lawn and forest she could see from the window. She perked up suddenly.

“Someone’s coming towards us!” she exclaimed, prompting him to rush to the window. He squinted to see through the rain, but was only able to make out a light-colored horse carrying a woman who was holding her hat low over her head when lightning gleaned aggressively overhead. She had a blonde ponytail.

Ryan darted out of the room, saying, “It’s Deputy Dunkleman! Jack must’ve sent her.”

.....

How Matt managed to get Burnie onto his horse and to the saloon, he had no idea, but he wasn’t about to complain. Half-carrying the wounded ex-SAINT Tracker up the stairs to one of the empty rooms, he began to stem the bleeding according to Burnie’s instructions by utilizing spare medical supplies that he found when rummaging through the Haywoods’ room; a few lengths of bandages, gauze, tape, and a clear gel that Laurie often put on bullet wounds to shrink blood vessels or something.

Burnie relocated to the bathroom, grating, “Hand me another bandage and go to the stables; God knows what Kdin’s planning.”

“But what about you?” Matt asked, tossing the bandage to him to avoid having to leave his post at the window.

“I’ll be fine! I did my own patchwork for years,” Burnie grunted, tugging a loop around his shoulder even tighter while holding another strip between his teeth, “This isn’t as bad as it looks.”

Matt placed Burnie’s gun on the sink counter. “Shoot to kill,” he commanded, “Don’t worry about me; I’ll announce myself before I come in.”

“You don’t have to tell me, kiddo. Now go!”

He sprinted downstairs, wrapped a knife in a rag and stuffed it into his boot, quickly pressed another one to face to dry up water that was dripping into his eyes, and then exited the back door, circling around to the back of the stables to avoid being seen by Kdin. His nerves were crackling with adrenaline, his senses picking up the sheer danger of what he was about to do. Yes, he decked Kdin three short days ago, but that was entirely luck; Kdin was distracted from the fight with Officer Marquis, no doubt also tired from it, too, so Matt happened to clock him just right in the skull. He also happened to just perfectly sidestep that knife swing to avoid losing his eye; that was certainly never going to happen again.

The horses were nowhere to be found, being spread out amongst the Sunny Gang at the inn and cottage, so the stables felt unusually �" almost painfully �" still and quiet; he was so used to hearing a kick of hooves or a rustle of legs or even the annoying sound of the horses chewing on their food to ease the tension of being in such a large structure. Not having the usual sounds to disrupt the suffocating silence made him incredibly anxious.

Something crunched behind him.

Matt spun around gun-first to face Kdin, who sported a broken nose, glasses held together by sticky tape, and a void in his perfectly straight pearly whites. His sadistic grin peeked out from behind the gun barrel inches from Matt’s forehead.

“Put it down,” he commanded, somehow managing to continue smiling while he spoke.

Matt’s finger twitched on the trigger, a definite scowl settling on his features. “So you got into another fight after I laid you out, huh?” he taunted.

Kdin wasn’t fazed. “I did… and he didn’t fare so well. Tell me, Matt, when’s Michael’s funeral? I’d like to pay my respects to his wife.”

Matt’s finger twitched again.

But, then there was cold metal pressing to his skin.

“Put. It. Down.”

“Make me.”

.....

Before Burnie registered the gun had even clicked, he’d spun around and sent a blonde-haired man reeling into the dresser with punch to the jaw, the gun sliding out of his hand and ending up under the bed. He dove for it, but Burnie buried the toe of his shoe into the softness of his side, feeling muscle buckle from the force and hearing bone crunch. The blonde howled in pain and keeled over, only to be blind-sided by a boot to the side of his head that send him rolling.

Burnie chuckled. “I knew you weren’t hurt, Gibson; at least not enough to sit with your thumb in you’re a*s while the cartel was destroyed.”

“Son of a b*tch!” he gurgled through a bloody mouth. “I knew we had a mole somewhere!”

Burnie gestured to himself smugly, ignoring his throbbing shoulder. “Well, detective, now you’re looking at him from the floor. In my opinion, you really shouldn’t’ve followed me here.”

“You’ll get put away for murder if you kill me,” he said.

“Then tell me where Sorola is being held and where I might find Matt Hullum.”

Gibson gulped.

Burnie cocked his gun.

.....

“Then let’s work this out like men,” Kdin had said.

Every inch of his body was on fire, for the third time blood was trickling down his face from the freshly re-opened cut, and harsh, ragged breaths rasped out of his chest through dry, pursed lips. His knees felt like they were broken, his ribs threatened to cave in on his lungs, and his shoulder, having just survived a knife buried in it, refused to obey a single command to move. Kdin hauled himself up for only a second before a streak of dim white darted to his front, startling Matt, who suddenly realized he’d left his cat in the stables when they booked it to the station.

Arya’s teeth sank into the soft, supple flesh of Kdin’s throat, emitting a low, angered growl through the blood quickly soaking the front of his shirt. Red bubbled out of his nose and mouth in a whimper, a sad, pathetic attempt at a cry for help just before being brought to his knees from nothing other than a vengeful cat that remembered just what he’d done to her master. Before Kdin could even think about swatting the clever feline away, she jumped off him, retreating to the unused stall behind a grinning Matt, still wailing. Kdin grasped at his neck, broad palm attempting to stem vital fluid from leaving his body while his other hand searched around in the hay for his gun.

“Looking for this?” Matt asked, holding a shiny silver revolver between his thumb and forefinger, a maniacal laugh echoing inside the structure, drowned away from the rest of the world through pounding rain, deafening thunder, and thick, cinder-block walls. Kdin collapsed on his stomach, still begging for life while Matt stepped backwards to scoop up his cat.

“Good girl, Arya,” he cooed, using his shirt to wipe blood away from her face. “I forgot you were in here.”

She meowed angrily.

Matt settled on a hay bale while he cleaned the rest of the blood off her to prevent it from drying too badly into her coat. She fussed about it, as she normally did when he tried to hold her still, but didn’t cause too much trouble for him; knowing her, Arya probably knew she needed a swift cleaning anyway. Kdin let out one last gasp for air, but Matt ignored him.

“Matt!” Burnie called.

“In the last stall on the left!”

Burnie burst through the door and sprinted to him. “Hullum’s got Sorola at the bank! He’s trying to skip town!”

“How do you know that?”

“Gibson tried ambushing me in the saloon; I got him to spill the beans.”

Matt gingerly set the feline down. “Where is he now?”

“Knocked out and handcuffed to the tethering post outside. What do you want to do?” Burnie caught sight of Kdin, toeing him gingerly. “What the f*ck? Did the cat just?”

“Yeah, she’s a bads*s… Stop Hullum; the rest of the gang will take care of Ellis, I’m sure of it. Can you shoot?”

Burnie nodded with eyes still wide and flexed his shoulder, hissing that it wasn’t the worst injury he’d ever received. He got the horses saddled and blanketed while Matt dragged Kdin outside the stables; he didn’t want the stench of death permanently seeping into the woodworks while they were gone, so he parked his nemesis’ body under the overhang at the front of the stables, covering it with a tarp to prevent wildlife from getting to it.

“What’s the plan?”

The former SAINT Tracker shrugged his good shoulder. “Bring him in alive, preferably.”

“Preferably? What do you mean ‘preferably,’ man?”

Burnie sighed, adjusting the reigns in his hands. “I really just want to put a bullet in his brain.”

“Well, good to know we’re both on the same page.”

.....

Geoff couldn’t do anything. On May twenty-third, at sometime-past-midnight on the roof of the Rooster Teeth inn, after days of chasing, little sleep, no food, being one man down, surviving the largest lead-war the town had ever seen, and a body count in the fifties, they’d lost. The Sunny Gang had lost. There wasn’t a sign of life from his eagle-eyed sniper, the lack of gunfire on the street below boded nothing positive for his brother in arms, his partner was in the wind, and Ryan was miles away protecting the remainder of their families. This was it.

“All you had to do was follow the rules!” Ellis screamed over roaring rain, digging the barrel of his gun deeper into the Brit’s temple. “I wouldn’t have had to do this if you’d just followed the rules, Ramsey!”

He swallowed a knot in his throat, willing away fearful tears as the British man whispered, “Tell Meg I love her.”

Geoff’s chin quivered, his cold fingers twitching next to his head uselessly. “Gavin, hang in there-” Ray had to be somewhere nearby. He had to. He just… had to.

Ellis laughed again. “You’ve lost, Ramsey!” he taunted, stepping closer to the edge of the rooftop. “Admit it! This is your fault! You did this! All you had to do was stay out of my way! But this is what happens when you want to be a hero, Ramsey; people get hurt!”

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut, and for a moment �" just a moment Geoff could almost hear Gavin’s heart slowing down as he said two words, accepting the end, right before a gunshot doused the night in red.

In a smallest, saddest tone a voice could’ve taken, Gavin’s voice was heard.

“Goodbye, Geoff.”

They both fell to the ground at the same time, the Brit emitting a scream that could definitely be heard from across town, while Ellis rolled off the roof and crashed to the ground forty feet below. Geoff dove for Gavin, shaking him, begging for him to say something.

“I’m fine, Geoff,” Gavin choked, “Stop shaking me.”

“Ray. Ray came through,” he sobbed, “It’s okay, Gav. It’s over, it’s all over. You’re safe now.”

“GEOFF!” Jack roared from below, “GEOFF, WHAT HAPPENED? WHERE ARE YOU?”

“WE’RE OKAY!” he screamed back. “WE’RE COMING DOWN! Get up, Gavin! Come on, we have to go!”

Jack was the first to meet them downstairs.

“Thank Jesus you two are okay!” he mumbled, grabbing them both in a bear-hug.

“W-where’s Ray?” Gavin asked, answered quickly by a rush of hooves and a cry of his name from the sniper. Before Richard had come to a full stop, he jumped off his horse and ran to the group, silently thanking the heavens that he’d taken the lifesaving shot when he did.

“Matt took Burnie to the saloon,” Jack explained. “I sent Deputy Dunkleman to get Ryan from the cabin so he’ll meet us there. I managed to snag one of Ellis’s men and questioned him about Hullum’s whereabouts; he said he’s at the bank to grab money and then skip town.”

“Well, we need to get him, then!” Geoff yelled, whistling for his horse.

“AFTER ALL THIS?” Ray roared.

“YES, AFTER ALL THIS! WE ONLY TOOK OUT ONE HALF OF THE PROBLEM; NO F*CKING WAY THE SON OF A B*TCH GETS OUT OF TOWN!”

“I’ll get the officers and meet you out front,” Jack said, disappearing down a hallway.

“What about Matt and Burnie?” Gavin asked.

“They’ll be fine, you just get you’re a*s in a saddle!”

“GUYS!” Ryan bellowed from outside. “IS EVERYONE OKAY?”

Geoff ran outside, nearly colliding with Edgar’s legs. “Ryan! Oh, thank goodness you’re here!”

“Dunkleman grabbed me, what’s going on?”

“Ellis is dead,” Officer Marquis explained from behind him.

“Yeah, his body is in the street over there,” Jack clarified while the rest of them saddled up. “Hullum’s at the bank; he’s trying to skip town.”

“Burnie and Matt?”

Ray answered, “At the saloon. I saw the two of them head that direction.”

“Were they being followed?”

“Not that I could see. It doesn’t mean nobody was waiting for them.”

“F*ck! You’re not wrong.”

“Ryan, how about this,” Geoff suggested, “You and I will swing by the saloon; we’ll meet up with you guys at the bank.”

“We don’t have enough time!”

“Fine! Then we kill the sh*t out of Hullum and then run back to the saloon! Either way, we GO NOW!”

Ryan wished he’d gotten his hat back from Meg as they rode to the bank, which was a nice four miles away from them though heavier rain than he’d ever seen. The number of townsfolk peeking through their curtains as they galloped by made his heart swell with gratitude for their support of The Sunny Gang, who, at that very moment, needed all the support they could get. They’d all very narrowly eliminated the drug ring; now they were headed to the bank to stop their mayor from running away with thousands of dollars. It was just the five of them and three cops.

“THAT’S MATT'S HORSE, GUYS! AND THAT’S BURNIE'S!” the Brit roared over hooves.

“ARE YOU SURE, GAVIN?”

“POSITIVE; I TAKE CARE OF THEM! THEY’RE ALREADY HERE!”

“GEOFF, GAVIN, AND DEPUTY, GO AROUND THE BACK!” Ryan commanded, “THE REST OF US WILL APPROACH FROM THE FRONT! RAY, GET UP IN THE TREE ON THE SOUTH SIDE; YOU’LL HAVE A CLEAR LINE OF SIGHT INTO THE VAULT!”

“WILL DO!”

.....

“You’re not going to get far,” Gus murmured from his spot in the corner of the vault, where he’d been thrown after being tied up. He couldn’t see very much of what Hullum was doing, but going on sound, the man was packing stacks upon stacks of bills into his bag at a frantic pace.

“Say another word and I will shoot you!” he growled through clenched teeth. “Don’t think I’m above it!”

Gus chuckled. “No, you won’t kill me. I’m your ticket out of this mess, remember?”

A gun barrel appeared inches from his face. “I. Said. Shut. Up.”

Silence.

Hullum went back to packing money, shooting another lockbox open and clearing it out as well. Gus caught a glimmer in the window just barely in his peripheral vision, the tiniest pinprick of white light somewhere high in a tree, immediately followed by two dark figures darting across the little bit of hallway he could see. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

“Who’s there!” Hullum yelled from the floor, grabbing Gus to use a shield and nervously swinging his gun around to the entrance of the vault. “Show yourself!”

Nothing.

Gus, taking the opportunity to create a distraction, pointed out, “They’re not going to answer you, genius.”

Hullum tightened his grip on his neck, growling his previous command again.

Still nothing.

He pressed his gun to Gus’s temple, screaming, “I’ll shoot him if you don’t show yourself! I know someone’s here!”

“You’re just being paranoid-”

“I’LL SHOOT HIM!”

“Alright,” a voice answered. “Alright. Calm down.”

Hullum paused for a moment, lowering his weapon slightly in confusion. “Burnie?”

Surely enough, Ellis’s drug runner slowly stepped into view, hands held above his head in a non-confrontational sign. Gus smiled slightly at the sight of the former SAINT Tracker, battered, bruised, and bleeding through thick bandages and his shirt. “It’s just me, Matt. Calm down.”

Hullum raised his weapon again. “What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Ellis!” he demanded sharply, voice barely above a whisper.

“Ellis is dead.”

“What? How?”

“Sunny Gang got to him. They’re heading this way.”

Hullum’s eyes narrowed. “And how would you know that?”

Burnie lowered his arms. “One of our men gave up your location. Skipping town without the boss?”

Hullum gulped. “I… figured he would’ve found me.”

Burnie clicked his tongue and stepped closer. “No, no, no, Hullum. That’s not how it works. No one crosses Ellis.”

“But you just told me he’s dead.”

“Because you didn’t stay back and fight.”

Realization crossed Hullum’s face in an instant.

“Anyhow, you’ve got the money. We need to leave.”

Hullum laughed lowly, nervously. “No, I need to leave. You need to serve as the distraction for the Sunny Gang when they roll up on this little detail.”

Burnie shrugged with his arms still up, replying, “Sorry, Hullum. Can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“I don’t help dead men.”

“What? If I get out of here, the Gang will never find me! I’ll- I’ll send someone for you!”

“No you won’t.”

“You’re not making any sense-”

“He’s talking about me,” Matt spoke from behind Hullum, pulling his gun’s trigger. Hullum crumpled to the ground in a boneless pile, nearly bringing Gus with him if it weren’t for Burnie rushing in to catch Gus before he hit the ground. Matt pulled out the knife he’d stashed in his boot and got to work cutting Gus’s bindings while Burnie checked Hullum for a pulse, eventually clicking his tongue and giving the body a good shove over to the side. He sighed and surveyed the damage from a few paces back, money spilled onto the floor and stuffed in a bag, blood pooling around Hullum’s body, a fairly shaken up Gus being detangled from rope by Matt, who was finally not bleeding from the cut on his face, and his own beaten down reflection in the polished floor.

“There’s got to be at least one hundred grand here.”

“Yeah,” Matt said, holding the corner of his shirt to the cut on his face. “He was probably going to make off with more than twice that.”

“The cut’s not bleeding anymore.”

Matt looked at his shirt, letting it go when he saw that he was indeed no longer bleeding. He gestured with his chin. “Well, you sure are.”

Footsteps scurried inside the bank, Geoff’s panicked voice calling for each of them in turn. Matt announced their location and within seconds, the whole gang minus Ray were at the vault, staring at either at Hullum’s body, Gus, Matt, or Burnie, who was clutching his shoulder and leaning against the vault doorway.

“Who shot him?” Gavin finally asked.

Matt raised his hand, still cutting the ropes on Gus’s ankles.

“What now?” Geoff said to Burnie, who shrugged.

“I guess it’s all finally over, Geoff. Eight years later, the infamous Hornet and all his co-conspirators are no longer a problem. And all it took was kidnapping your daughter.”

“I would’ve killed him regardless.”

“You’re not alone.”

“I never have been,” Geoff reminded him, draping an arm around Gavin.

“Anyone find out what was on the third floor?” Jack asked. “Meg would want to know.”

Geoff, remembering the sample he’d collected, handed Burnie the bag and the set of keys. “You’ll find a couple hundred pounds of this in a locked room on the third floor; these are the keys.”

“A couple hundred pounds?” Jack clarified.

Burnie held the packet to the light, thumbing the contents to isolate a few small black crystals in the cocaine.

“It’s some of Ellis’s old stash. I noticed the crystals earlier.”

“This is great, Geoff,” Jack commended.

“Yeah, enough to get at least Ellis’s associates behind bars.”

“And all it took was messing with Geoffrey Ramsey,” Burnie laughed.

“Hey, you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.”