The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

up Qassam’s scheme. Thinking back, it was just as well the restraining devices had not been removed when Tio Zeke was shot with that .25 Beretta. The terrorist leader had been correct in thinking that Micah might have been entertaining other thoughts than in helping his uncle.

And if Micah Templar knew nothing else in this world, he knew himself and what his personal weak points were. He also knew the sum total of those weaknesses was headlined by a quick, sometimes all-consuming temper. For most of his adult life he had worked hard on controlling it, yet that temper had gotten away from him in the other room and nearly flared to a full boil.

As an experienced and self-aware man who had been between a rock and a hard place a few times before, he knew that when one allowed himself to become that angry, one quit thinking rationally. He also knew that such an essential failing could mean the loss of an argument, an advantage or even somebody’s life.

Micah settled back, considering again his situation and possible options. They had to put Qassam and his bunch out of commission, that much was obvious. Whatever it took or whatever the sacrifice, fate had left them with no other choice.

But if they were to be successful in the attempt, they needed the proper time and place to make their play. Hours had passed since the new guard had been posted, yet this particular one showed no indication of any slacking in his attention to duty. The handcuff key was the hinge on making their present circumstance swing in another direction, but he needed some time unobserved to use it. Just a little bit of time and some attending luck.

Hungry, aching from the physical abuse and with life hanging in the balance, Micah’s mind drifted off to another place. In it he began thinking of his wife, Abby, and how glad he was she had decided to drive to Midland rather than take the plane ride with him. At that time and true to his form, he had been disappointed and even a little testy when she had chosen to do so. They had planned for this trip together for some time and his selfish, willful side wanted things to go his way.

However, Abby knew the Albrights might need her more than she needed to ride in an old bomber, and had made her mind up accordingly. More so and true to her own form, she had dug in her heels when he appeared less than enthusiastic about her decision.

Now Micah found himself giving thanks that he had married such a caring, conscientious, yet willful woman and gave praise to a decision that he had first questioned due to his own shortcomings. Abby was safe, and with that knowledge he knew that his greatest Achilles heel remained out of reach of those just outside the doorway.

The younger Templar came back to the here and now, and what the near future most likely promised. There was no doubt in his mind that when the opportunity presented itself, it would be a brief, chancy thing for the three of them and very uncertain as to the final outcome. He’d seen too many good men die with the best of intentions perishing alongside to ever dissuade himself otherwise. So much depended on how he, Tio Zeke and Max Grephardt made use of those few, decisive moments.

In the gloom Micah found himself praying silently, earnestly. ‘Lord, show me what I must do and give me strength to get it done. I doubt there’ll be a second chance.’ Along with his own prayer came the memory of a far more eloquent one: ‘Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle…’

It was funny how one’s memory worked, you only realize what’s truly important when someone, or something, comes along to take it all away. Micah hadn’t thought of that Bible verse since, well, since his last tour in Vietnam. At present he could not recall the rest and really wished he could. Tio Zeke would know that verse from beginning to end, he had always been gifted at that sort of thing. But just the few words that Micah could remember brought an inner peace and helped steel himself for whatever might come.

He peered into the semi darkness at his uncle, who appeared to be sleeping again. Whenever Micah made his move, he realized that in those first critical seconds Ezekiel probably wouldn’t be of much help. Tio Zeke was a tough and capable man, even upon nearing some seventy years of age. Nevertheless, he would have to clear the mental fog brought on by the pain killers he’d been given, and the time needed for that would be far longer than what it took to start the ball rolling. That same calculation also didn’t take into account the bullet hole in his uncle’s leg, either.

The peace officer refocused his gaze beyond his uncle and at the unmoving form of Max Grephardt. The German appeared to be simply resting but Micah had the distinct feeling that in Max’s case, looks were deceiving. He knew the story about the Luftwaffe hauptmann’s escape from the Soviets, and had known Max for too long not to notice and appreciate the sort of man he was.

Micah’s own father, Jeremiah Templar, had once remarked “that German is a born fighting man, through and through.” Such praise came very rarely from his father and he would have known as well as anybody. There was no doubt that Max Grephardt would be there in the clinch.

The memory of his father at that particular moment brought a wistful yearning, Jeremiah Templar was one man that his son wished was here. As a boy he had been in utter awe of his dad and that feeling had not dissipated much as the years passed