Long Road Home: Pt. 4

[acquiescence]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

---

Death was easy, easier than he would have imagined. If he’d known it was this easy he would have given up a long time ago. There was only darkness; it surrounded him completely, though rather than being suffocating or fearful it was comforting - welcoming him into its warm embrace like a lost lover.

Mary.

Jeff reached for her, searching through the black for his wife. After all this time she would be there, right within his grasp; he’d been waiting for so long to hold her again.

Mary.

He twisted and turned, grasping and stretching, reaching through the darkness that swallowed him up. Only now it was less welcoming, it was pulling him down, holding him too tight, keeping him from her. He let out a growl of frustration pushing it off him, shaking his way free moving away from its embrace.

“Mary!”

He called her name as he raced away from the darkness that waited to swallow him up again, looking for her anywhere she could be, but there was nothing here, nothing but the blackness. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she was supposed to be there with him, they were supposed to be together again.

Jeff groaned, turning onto his back, his legs stretching out from their curled position, making him wince. It hurt, hurt more than death should. He was dead, he wasn’t supposed to hurt anymore; that was for the living. And he already knew he wasn’t part of that forgotten group any longer.

He tried to move his leg, and a shot of pain sailed up his spine. He moved his arm and another twist of pain.

It was only when he opened his eyes, and saw the canopy of branches and leaves over his head that Jeff realized the truth.

“Fuck.”

He wasn’t dead.... as usual.

He sat up slowly; every muscle in his body screamed and ached from the abuse he’d taken. If he’d had a mirror Jeff wouldn’t have bothered looking into it; what was the use? He’d catalogued each and every hit he’d taken up to the point that he’d blacked out. He didn’t need a mirror to see the damage that had wrought. He could feel enough of it.

Once he’d taken stock of himself, and made sure everything was still in working order, more or less, and intact, mostly, Jeff pulled himself up to his feet unsteadily. He took another minute to make sure he wasn’t going to fall over; it would be just like him to fall over and give himself a black eye after everything. When he felt steady on his feet he started to take stock of his surroundings.

The trampled remains of their fire, crumbs and empty bottles, but that was it. There was no sign of either of their packs, any food or water, his rifle or shells, either. Michael had taken everything. Jeff groaned, Michael had everything - he had Misha.

He stumbled and lowered himself carefully onto a fallen tree, dropping his head into his hands. What was he supposed to do now? Go after that man? Get himself killed trying to save Misha? What was Misha to him? Was he even worth getting himself killed over? He was lucky to be alive now; it would be pushing his luck to go up against Michael and his men, completely unarmed and beaten the way he was.

It was in the quiet that he heard the quiet thrum of a nearby stream, and it was that heavenly sound that pulled Jeff to his feet, turning in the direction of the sound. He grabbed one of the empty bottles that had been left behind before he went stumbling through the brush toward the sound he heard, letting it lead him.

He dropped to his knees when he found the source and pressed his face down into the cool running water, sighing as it washed over his face. Only once his face was numb with the cold of the water did Jeff sit up and bring a handful of water up to his mouth, drinking deeply. And once he felt the water sloshing cold in his stomach he dipped the bottle into the stream, filling it up.

He let himself fall to the grass once his thirst was sated, laying back and staring up into the sky; the sun was already starting its downward fall - he must have been out for quite a while. What was he supposed to do now though? He could continue on toward the town that should be just a few more miles ahead, but what would he do when he got there? He didn’t have anything now, and it would be unlikely that he’d get lucky enough to find a gun to replace his, let alone the other things he needed now.

He could go back, find Michael, and bring Misha back.

Of course, that was as unlikely as anything else that had entered his mind. How the fuck was he supposed to save Misha when he hadn’t even been able to save himself from those men? Not to mention there were five of them, and their most serious injury was likely a broken jaw. He would be lucky to get past one, let alone all five.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked out loud - and for once in all the months he’d been out on the road, he wished there had been someone there to answer him. Instead, all that he heard was the sound of water running and the quiet chirping of insects.

“Tell me!” There was no one to answer and yet shouting, demanding the answer made him feel better. Made it feel like there was the possibility of someone hearing him, despite the fact that he was completely alone, more so than he’d ever been it felt like.

Jeff drew in a slow breath before he sat up again, wincing at the pain. The sun was dropping lower; dusk was threatening to fall soon. He could lay here and start up the next morning toward the other town, or he could go back.

He knew the answer already; he’d known before he even started debating it.

He would go back, he would rescue Misha, or get himself killed trying - more likely the latter.

There were a few things he needed to do though before night fell, he wasn’t going to just run in there like an idiot and get himself shot. He was going to prepare as best he could, he wouldn’t face death like a coward, he would charge into it weapons raised fighting for the one good thing in his life.

---

“Jeff, I can’t,” Mary pleaded, panting after having spent the last few hours running (more like being dragged) through the woods.

“Mary, we can’t stop, we have to keep going.”

“I can’t, please ... I just need to stop for a minute, just a minute, please.”

Jeff shook his head. “Come on, baby, I know it’s hard but we have to keep going, please.” It wasn’t safe yet, he knew it, the world was still burning, he could smell the fires, knew they were close just waiting to swallow them up.

“Just a minute, baby, please.”

If he hadn’t been weighed down with all that he was carrying already he would have picked her up and taken her himself, carried her for as long as he could just so they could have gotten further away. He should have done that, dropped everything he was carrying and taken his wife out of that place.

“Just a minute,” he agreed; Mary sat herself down right there on the ground, leaning back against the pack on her back. She looked like she was ready to pass out right there. Now that they’d stopped, Jeff wanted to pass out, too; it was easier to keep going if they stayed on the move, but now ... not that they’d stopped, all he wanted to do was lay down, to sleep, to rest.

He couldn’t, though, couldn’t let himself sit either or he would sleep; he needed to stay up to keep moving, to get Mary up if something happened, and so he stayed on his feet pacing. Walking in one direction and making a quick turn to go the other direction over and over again, so long that there should have been a line in the ground. He was almost surprised there wasn’t anything.

It was the howl off in the woods that made him stop. He looked in the direction they’d come, squinting into the darkness trying to make out anything, but there was only darkness. Trees and darkness.

That was when it happened. It started in the trees, the leaves rustling and branches trembling as trunks of the massive trees around them started swaying, and then as if it had started above them and traveled down the trees, the ground began to shake. Jeff had experienced an earthquake before when he had been a much younger man back when he’d lived in California, but this was different. This was like the entire earth was shaking, like it just might shake apart completely and send them flying out into space - and after the events of the last day he wouldn’t be surprised if that was just what happened.

He stumbled as the shaking increased, making it hard to stay on his feet, to even move from the spot where he stood.

“Just stay right there, Mary,” he called, carefully making his way back to her. He swore at his own nervous energy that had taken him so far from her, he’d been on the furthest point in his pacing when he’d stopped, and now Mary was so far away.

Mary had curled up around herself, clutching her knees against her chest, pressing her cheek against the tops of her knees as she looked to Jeff waiting for him to reach her. “I’ll be right there, baby,” he assured, her taking another slow step in her direction.

He didn’t make it. He couldn’t have made it. The ground opened up faster than he would have thought possible, and rather than the abyss he would have thought should be there, there were only flames. Giant and scorching, they burst from under the surface of the earth and shot toward the skies. Jeff could only watch as they consumed her. She didn’t even get a chance to scream before she was gone. She had been there and then all that was left were flames.

Jeff stood there for one long moment before he ran, ran faster than he’d ever known he could, putting as much distance between himself and the flames, his heart wrenching the entire time, pulling him back toward the fire scorching against his back, urging him back, telling him to throw himself into those flames.

“You have to live.”

It was only Mary’s voice in his mind that kept him going. He wanted to lay down right there and let the flames take him, to wait for them to catch up and swallow him. He ached for it, ached for the burning tongues to swallow him, devour him, and yet he kept running, one foot in front of the other again and again until his muscles screamed, until his heart threatened to give out, until his lungs were ready to explode – only then did he stop. He fell to his knees right where he stood, and lowered his head to the ground as he cried out, yelling himself hoarse.

---

“It’s alright to love him.”

Jeff started working as soon as he got to his feet. He started gathering sticks large and small and dividing them up into two separate piles. He dug around in the dirt until his fingers were raw pulling out rocks and adding them to his growing collection.

The warm weight of Misha against his side, the feeling of his lips soft and yielding against his own.

He stripped town the smaller branches he’d collected, pulling them apart into long fibers he could tie together. He worked until his fingertips were screaming, pulling and tearing and only when he’d finished with the small pile of sticks he’d collected did he stop. Then the work of making rope started, he worked the fibers he’d pulled apart tying them together and creating rope - not a long amount just enough to work with. He created several strands of rope.

The sound of Misha’s laugh, easy and right.

Using his newly formed rope Jeff wove together the larger sticks, creating something of a bat. He used the rocks he’d collected to shave down the end of one stick into a point. He’d never killed a man before, and he prayed today would not be the first, but he would be prepared if it came to it. He worked quickly and steadily, until he had two makeshift bats and something like a knife.

Satisfied with his work, he pulled himself up and filled his pockets with as many rocks he could carrying without weighing himself down too much. He carried one of the bats in his hand the other he put in the back of his jeans along with the sharpened stick he’d made as well.

When he’d finished Jeff cracked open the bottle of water he’d filled earlier and drank slowly, only until his thirst was just quenched. And it was with that final action that Jeff nodded and returned to the road.

In one direction was the town, possibly the things he needed to survive. In the other there was only death, but there was Misha as well. It wasn’t a difficult choice. He stepped out onto the asphalt and turned in the opposite direction of the town and started running.

His body ached and pulled in all the places he was bruised and sore from his earlier beating and yet Jeff didn’t let it slow him. He raced down the highway, looking for anything that would give away the groups location. Anything that would help him find Misha.

It was just as the sun started its final descent behind the trees that Jeff saw smoke. It was faint and still a way off, but he felt confident that was them - they hadn’t encountered any other travelers on their way through the area on their first time through. He fixed the spot in his mind and pushed himself harder, running as fast as he could.

Darkness had fallen long before he reached the edges of their camp. Michael and his group camped right off the highway rather than pushing further into the trees the way Jeff did, so they were easier to find. He ducked into the trees and circled around their group. His heart was pounding in his chest, so hard that he thought it would surely give him away, and yet the men in the group went about their business like nothing was amiss, probably confident that he’d been left for dead.

There was laughter through the trees, and Jeff chanced looking out. All five men were there in camp, along with Misha. He was seated beside Michael, hands tied behind his back while the others ate and drank. It looked like Michael was trying to feed Misha from his fingers, but he refused - Jeff had to remind himself not to give his position away when Michael slapped Misha hard across the face.

Surprise was his only advantage here, and it wouldn’t do to give it away now before he’d managed to even the odds even a little.

He waited for a long time, so long that his muscles started seizing up in his crouched position. But soon the fire began to die out and the men either lay down to sleep some or put themselves up around their small camp as guards. Jeff waited until he heard the snores coming from those who were sleeping before he started to move.

He crept slowly through the trees, the darkness of the night cloaking him as he made his way around to where one man stood at guard. It was easy to catch him off-guard, and a hand over his mouth ensured that his muffled cries didn’t travel far enough to alert the other guard. As much as Jeff would have liked to kill him, he didn’t; he just held a
hand over his mouth and nose until he passed out - he wouldn’t be out forever, but hopefully it would be enough to give him enough time to get Misha and leave. He pulled the other man’s gun from its spot on his hip, tucking it into his jeans along with his other weapons before he stalked towards the other guard.

The second man proved a bit more of a fight than the first. Jeff clubbed him over the head, in the end, and he felt the warm splatter of blood when his weapon connected with the other man’s skull before he dropped to the ground. Jeff checked his pulse before he gathered up his gun as well. He felt a bit better now that he had two guns, but there were still three other guns to deal with.

Slowly, he moved further into the ring of their camp, shuffling his feet so as not to disturb anything and give himself away as he moved. As he neared the center of the camp, all he wanted to do was get Misha and run. to free his hands and leave - but his brain reminded him that this was a group of hunters; they did this for entertainment, and when they woke to find two of their party had been put down and Misha taken ... well, it would likely make this their most exciting hunt yet. No, he couldn’t leave them the ability to chase after them when he left with Misha.

He made his way to where the first man lay snoring; he pressed a hand over the man’s mouth and nose pressing down hard. The man woke and struggled, kicking and squirming trying to get free of Jeff’s hold, but in the end Jeff won, his position giving him much more leverage.

Still on his knees, Jeff started when he felt the cool steel of a gun pressed against the back of his head. “We underestimated you.” The man’s voice was rough and Jeff could hear the laugh behind the words. So this was how he was going to die. On his knees, without even so much as a glance at the man who would end his life. The man took the guns Jeff had taken from the men he’d incapacitated earlier, and tossed them aside.

The gun nudged the back of his head. “On your feet.” Jeff hesitated for a moment, weren’t they going to kill him? Why bother getting him to his feet for that? Surely they had to realize he’d already incapacitated three of them; they couldn’t let him live now, no matter how distasteful all his blood would be when it came spilling out of him.

“You can leave that nice little number on the ground, too.” Jeff’s eyes dropped to the club he’d set down while he dispatched the man who lay in front of him now – possibly dead, he didn’t know or care at the moment, more concerned about the living and breathing man with a gun pointed at his head.

It’s at that moment that Jeff remembered the other weapons he had with him, stuffed under his shirt and rubbing raw against his back. The second club. The sharpened stick. The club likely wouldn’t do him much good; he’d only have one shot at this if he was going to make it work, and it was not the time to be squeamish. He knew that now. Never had death been so close to him than it was then, literally breathing down his neck, reminding him with each breath that it was either him or the man
behind him.

It was an easy choice to make.

“Alright, alright,” Jeff spoke quietly, his voice ringing with defeat.

He pushed himself up slowly, rising to a crouch before he started to turn. And it was during the turn that he reached behind him for the stick that he’d hidden away under his shirt, ripping it out and lunging for the man. As before, surprise was his one advantage and he knocked the man to the ground, though his rudimentary knife failed to make contact the way he’d hoped.

Now though he was on top of the other man, the gun practically pressed against his chest now. He moved on pure adrenaline, not thinking; just doing. He pushed the other gun away from his chest, fingers wrapping around the other man’s wrist, slamming into the ground again and again, anything to loosen his grip. Anything to get that gun as far away from him as possible.

The man struggled, of course, pushing at Jeff’s face with dirty hands. A knee connected with Jeff’s middle and he had to fight to keep from curling in on himself, his already bruised and battered body protesting against further injury. Just a little more, just a little more, he told himself, just a little more and he’d be alright.

Suddenly, Jeff was being pushed up with surprising speed, and in that brief moment of surprise he found himself on his back. He’d lost his leverage, he was going to die, it would just be a matter of moments before that gun made its way back to his chest and then he’d be done for.

It would be easier to die now, knowing he’d fought for life. He hadn’t just walked willingly towards death, he hadn’t accepted it, hadn’t expected it and yet it was still coming for him, as inexorably as it always did.

It was only adrenaline that kept him moving now, kept him fighting. And it was adrenaline that saved him. He still had one hand curled around his stick, and he managed to get enough speed behind it before he connected with the other man’s jaw sending him reeling.

It was the break Jeff needed to regain the upper hand, and he had the gun knocked away just a moment later. And before he could stop to think about what he was about to do, he drove the stick down with one quick thrust. It entered the other man’s chest with surprising ease, likely slipping between two ribs.

The other man’s eyes grew wide as he realized what had happened the same time Jeff did.

Scrambling off the other man, Jeff couldn’t only watch as he coughed up blood and writhed on the ground. He could see what was so distasteful about blood now, though he doubted very much any man Michael and his men had ever hunted had been given the chance to fight for life.

“That will be quite enough.”

Jeff was growing very tired of being taken by surprise from behind like this. He almost wished they would shoot him instead of giving him another chance to gain the upper hand. He didn’t have to look to know it was Michael behind him. He was all that was left now.

Michael and Misha.

He didn’t know how many he’d killed; at least one, possibly more. His main concern now though was for Misha.

“You should have kept going.” Michael’s voice sounded sad, though whether it was for the man Jeff had obviously killed or the fact that he was going to have to resort to using a gun himself, Jeff didn’t know. “You could have forgotten about us. You could have kept on going.”

“I’m the stubborn sort.”

“So I’ve noticed. It’s a particularly troublesome character flaw you seem to have.”

“I always thought it was rather charming.”

“I’m afraid you’ve been sadly mistaken.”

“So are you going to kill me now, or what?” Jeff asked, tired of this stupid cat and mouse game Michael seemed so fond of playing.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to.”

Jeff sighed, wiped his hands on his jeans and stood, turning to face Michael.

“I hope you won’t mind if I’d rather face you than get shot in the back.”

Michael nodded. “A true man faces death head on.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Have you listened to yourself? Do you hear the things that come out of your mouth? Or did that night just drive you completely insane? Or maybe you were already?” Jeff had to wonder about this man and his motivations. “Only now you have the freedom to live out your sick world view with no one around to make you own up to it.” He spat at his feet. “You try and act as civilized as you please, but in the end you’ll never be anything other than a monster.”

“Such words.” Michael only shook his head, not rising to Jeff’s insults.

“You talk big, and yet you’re too chicken shit to even pull the trigger yourself.” He glanced around for Misha, not seeing the other man behind Michael where he expected him. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it, aren’t you?”

“Now see that’s where you’re mistaken.” Michael pulled the hammer back on the gun he held in his hands. His hands were steady. “I have absolutely no problem pulling the trigger, but like I said before; guns are just so crude.”

“Seem to work pretty well for your boys.”

“Usually, yes,” he agreed.

“Are you going to do some sort of monologue, now, or are you just going to kill me?” Jeff was growing tired of this. “I’ve been through enough shit, and I don’t need to stand around listening to some insane asylum reject wax poetic about the state of humanity.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Michael decided. “No use spouting off when you’re the only one who’ll hear it.”

“Not quite the only one.”

Michael turned suddenly, the gun trained on Jeff; behind him stood Misha, a gun leveled at Michael’s back. Jeff didn’t even bother to wonder how Misha found one of the many discarded guns without being seen, not when Misha was holding the one thing that would keep him alive. He could see Misha’s hand trembling despite the firmness of his voice.

Michael didn’t turn the gun from Jeff; instead, he merely glanced over his shoulder at Misha like he wasn’t a threat at all. “Now, now, pet, let’s not do anything we’llregret.”

“Put the gun down.” Misha managed to maintain the firm tone to his voice, focusing on Michael completely as he aimed the gun.

“It would be a shame if something happened to your new friend because you wouldn’t put that gun down.” His tone was as light and airy as if he was talking about the weather, but the threat was there as plain as day.

Jeff lifted his hands from his sides, holding them in front of his chest. “Hey – now there’s no reason anyone needs to get shot today.” There had already been more than enough killing for his taste, and he didn’t particularly want to get shot himself. It was entirely possible that the three of them could leave this unharmed – or no more harmed than when they’d come into it.

“No!” Misha’s voice wavered as he shouted his dissent. “No, I can’t just let him leave here.” Misha let his gaze drift to Jeff now, though he still held the gun with trembling hands straight at Michael’s chest. “After the things he did to me?” He was incredulous. “The things he’s doing to Alec, the things he’ll do to anyone else who happens to go through that town? No, I won’t let that happen again.”“You were right; he is sick. He’s sick and I can’t just let him walk away from this.” As he spoke, his hands steadied. There was nothing for Jeff to do now, not when he was the only unarmed man here. It was apparent that words were not going to change anyone’s mind now.

Michael turned his gun from Jeff to Misha. “You selfish little...” He trailed off and his usually calm and serene front started slipping. “After everything we did for you – we took you in, gave you food, gave you a place to sleep at night, and kept you safe. And what, you just expected us to give it all to you out of the kindness of our hearts?”

Jeff wanted to intervene, wanted to step between the two men and stop this.

“I didn’t ask for any of that, I didn’t want to stay there with you.
You just took what you wanted from me, used threats to keep me there.” Misha’s voice was firm now, filled with all the hate and pent-up anger he’d been storing all those months he’d had to deal with Michael and those he called friends. “I’m not going to let you do that to me anymore, not going to let you go back and do that to anyone else.”

“Ungrateful-” Michael started again, taking a step in Misha’s direction.

A shot rang out, startling in the quiet of the nature around them.



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