“I know you’re Sweepers,” he offered weakly. “I’ve worked my entire life to keep my family alive in times of turmoil. But I can’t keep them safe from you.”
“You’re wrong. We’re normal people like you!” Darla said slowly. She looked down at her hand. Two round circles had formed and they were bleeding. None of her other Taser wounds had bled; she looked at the injury and shook her head. Then she tightened her grip on the top of Lindsey’s shoulders and took the gun and aimed it at Lou. Cricket screamed and buried her head.
“Not normal people like us! Not normal people like us!” Lou cried and he flung his hand wildly, knocking a candle off of his bed stand. It crashed to the floor and went out, hot wax splattered on the carpet and the bedsheets, a tendril of smoke escaped upward.
“You fear the Sweepers,” Darla said. “But you don’t know anything about those guys except for something you heard on a radio weeks ago. You don’t know anything...your whole life here is based on the idea that someone is out to get you.” Darla yelled and her voice filled the tiny room.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, weaker than before. “I don’t believe you,” he said again and again. And then he began to cry. The man sunk to his bed and wept into his hands. Lindsey moaned in solidarity and Cricket peaked out from her place of hiding.
“Let me go to him,” Lindsey whispered and Darla loosened her grip. She let Lindsey slip forward. She sat next to him on the bed, the bed springs calling out as she sat down, and she put an arm around his shoulders. He continued to cry.
Darla lowered the gun. She walked calmly over to the night stand and opened it. There were several sets of keys and instead of trying to ascertain which one was better, she grabbed them all. She looked at Lou and Lindsey, huddled together on the bed.
“They kidnapped my son,” Darla said slowly, but loud enough for the family to hear over Lou’s sniveling.
The old man lifted his head. His eyes were red.
“I’m not telling you where I’m going or what I know. But I’m telling you that. The people that did this to us…they took my child. And you’ve prevented me from going to get him…”
“You could have told me,” Lou said. “I only wanted to know if we were in danger.”
“You could have trusted me,” Darla replied. “You didn’t tell me about the other people or what you were going to do after you knew the truth…you don’t deserve peace, Lou.” She looked at him and backed her way to the door, the gun still firmly in her hand. “You deserve to live in fear. You have an amazing house and prepared for your family…but I can’t…”
Downstairs Darla could hear shouting. There was a rumble of footsteps and then the sound of glass breaking. In an instant, she heard footsteps on the stairs. Darla looked at Lou and his face had gone ashen; a look of terror on his face.
“Sweepers,” he breathed. “You lied!”
Then he launched himself at her, his skinny legs carried him over the floor. Darla held her gun away from his prying grasp. Lou dug his fingers into the open sores created by the Taser prongs. She screamed as he ripped at her skin and the pain radiated down to her elbow.
“You called them to kill us! You signaled them to kill us!”
“Dad! Dad!” Lindsey screamed from the bed and she jumped up and tried to pry him off of Darla, but Lou was determined.
Darla rolled and then kicked wildly, catching Lou in the stomach and she pushed herself away. The door to the bedroom swung open and a very tall man in a button-down flannel shirt stood framed by the darkness.
“Ray,” Cricket yelled.
Lou turned. He was breathing heavily against the floor. His right hand covered in Darla’s blood.
“Ray,” he repeated.
The man named Ray surveyed the room. “This isn’t good, Lou,” Ray said in a deep drawl. “I warned you.”
“They escaped. I thought you were…” Lou didn’t even finish his sentence. He nodded slowly and his shoulders sunk to the floor. He resumed blubbering into the carpet. Darla didn’t know if she should comfort the man or spit on him. She looked down at her hand and then looked away. It was a bloodied mess of torn skin.
“We’re taking them.”
“I don’t know you,” Darla started and she say Ray’s eyes go to the gun in her hands.
“Well, Darla, I don’t know you either. But your traveling companions, Dean and Ainsley, have already crawled into the back of our pickup truck. So, unless you imagine you’d like to stick around here for a bit longer, I’m thinking you’ll probably want to join us.”
“Wait,” Lindsey said and she stepped forward. “Wait. Just wait.”
Ray took a step inward and motioned for Darla to step out of the room.
“I’m sorry, Lindsey,” Ray said.
“But I wanted to go with you,” she said in a whisper. “Please?”
Ray looked at Cricket and Lou, then back at Lindsey. “Sorry, Lindsey. We think it’s best that the entire Hales family just take some time to reevaluate. We’ll stop on by later to discuss it.”
“Later?” Lindsey looked panicked.
“You had a chance to make the right choice.” He bowed his head. “Lou. Cricket. Lyle’s downstairs. You folks…” he started, but then he didn’t finish his sentence. He just waved his hand and looked at them with a sad, disappointed glare. Then he walked back down the hallway where Darla was already waiting for him, slipped by the framed pictures and down the stairs.
Right on his heels, Darla followed him out of the house and into the thick darkness of the country night. There were two trucks waiting for them—Dean sat in one and Ainsley sat in the other. Wordlessly, she climbed into the truck closest to her and sat down in the center of the bed. Ainsley was there with her back against the edge.
Darla looked at the driver of her own truck; it was a woman, her hair tucked up into a baseball cap. A young man sat next to her, big and balding. In the bed of the other pick-up were two teenage girls, huddled together holding rifles.
“Ray and Jillian and friends,” Ainsley offered with a weak smile.
“Yeah,” Darla replied. “To our rescue.”
“Everything okay up there? We heard shouting.”
“Everything will be okay,” Darla said. Then she added, “For us, at least. Everything will be okay for us.”
She looked back at the Hales’ house and she could see the silhouettes of Lou and Cricket in their upstairs bedroom; they had removed the coverings to watch their captives go. The truck engine roared and they started to roll down the long driveway. Then, Darla gasped. Lindsey was running after them: her arms flailing by her side, her feet slapping the pavement. She pumped her arms and tried to chase the fast moving truck with every ounce of energy she had left. And even as the truck rounded the corner and fell out of sight, Darla thought she could hear her calling for them to stop. Come back. Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Take me with you. I’m sorry. We’re so sorry.
The truck maneuvered through the small neighborhood, back past the grocery store where they had tried to spend their first night, and then up to the highway. The farmhouse was long gone out of view before the truck slowed to a stop and pulled to the side of the road. The second truck sped up and stopped in the road. Ray threw the pick-up into park and slid out of the cab.
Dean sat in the passenger seat. Unharmed and calm, he opened the door and walked over to them.
“You okay?” he said. “You two okay? Oh man, oh man. Darla...your hand...”
Darla looked down. A steady stream of blood trickled down her arm. She ignored Dean and wrapped the hand in her shirt, and then she got a better look at the man standing next to him—a tall cowboy-type with graying hair and a thin beard. Ray.