Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9) by A American (learn to read books TXT) 📕

down at the grave of his wife. It caused a fear to well up in me. An all-consuming and nearly insurmountable fear of having to do the same. It terrified me more than anything my mind could conjure. The thought of having to scrape away the earth to lay Mel or one of the girls into a pit, it made me physically ill and my head started to spin. I had to get control of myself and push the morbid thoughts from my mind. We were here for Bobbie and I would remember her. But as I pushed those thoughts away, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to prevent having to perform this for my own family.

Danny knelt down and placed his good hand on the softly mounded dirt. His head hung and he began to weep. His fingers clenched into a fist around a knot of dirt and he softly pounded the ground with his fist. Dalton stepped up beside me and nudged me with his elbow and nodded at Danny. I knew what he was saying and we stepped up on either side of him and gently raised him to his feet. He didn’t resist, as his body shuddered from the sobs. We guided him back to the house, still clenching the fist of dirt.

Everyone said their personal goodbyes and one by one, they drifted away from the scene. I looked out from the porch to see Mel still at the grave, the last to leave. Mel had known Bobbie the longest. Actually, longer than Danny, Mel was there when they started dating. I walked out to the grave as she wiped her eyes.

“You OK, babe?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I just don’t get it. Why her? We were handing out food. We were doing good. Why would someone do that?”

“You can’t explain evil.”

She looked up at me, her eyes red, swollen and wet. “How much more suffering must we endure? What’s the point? The world doesn’t make any sense.”

I wrapped her in my arms. It was easy to fall into the trap of thinking the world was against us now. There always did seem to be a new disaster or threat to be worried about. I took it day by day, trying not to focus on the distant future or past, but dealing with the issues of the immediate. But everyone had to come up with their own way of coping with it.

“I’m not leaving here anymore,” she said as we walked back towards the house.

“Okay,” I replied. “But I’m going to town today. We’re going to hang the men responsible for this.”

She nodded. “Okay. One more trip to town. I want to see their faces when they hang. I want them to suffer.”

I pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t let the hate consume you, babe. It doesn’t go anywhere good. Believe me.”

“Well, I’m going to watch.”

“I don’t blame you. But Little Bit can’t go. The girls need to stay here.”

She nodded her head. “I was already going to tell her sisters to watch her. I’ll go with you. When are you going?”

“I was planning to go over to Sarge’s place and see where they’re at on the interrogation. When I’m done with that, I’ll let you know.”

She stopped and stepped in front of me, to face me. “Do not leave without me.”

I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I won’t. I promise.”

I made my way to Sarge’s house. The garage door was open, and I was met with a curious sight. Micha was still tied up and hanging from the ceiling, albeit in a creative fashion. His legs were tied together and his hands were likewise tied together, but under his legs. A stout piece of oak was run under his arms across his chest and this piece of wood was suspended from the ceiling. It looked uncomfortable as hell.

“Whose creation is this?” I asked as I came into the garage.

Mike pointed at Dalton, “It’s that sadistic fuck. I’ve never seen anyone like him; and I thought I was bad.”

Micha’s body was racked with obvious pain. “How long has he been like that?” I asked.

“Oh, since last night,” Dalton replied. “I wanted to make sure he didn’t have anything else to tell me.”

“And?”

Dalton gave Micha a push, spinning him. “I think we’re good.”

I walked over in front of Micha and grabbed a handful of hair and lifted his head. “You ready to confess your sins in public? If you want to escape the rope, it’s your only way out.”

He nodded and croaked in a raspy voice that I was sure was raw from a night of screaming, “I’ll read it. Please, please, cut me down. I can’t take this anymore.”

I looked around. “Someone got all this shit written down?”

Ted tapped a notepad with a pen. “Yep. Got it all right here. This one’s been a naughty boy.”

Looking at the two Cubans, I asked, “What about these two?”

“They won’t say anything,” Mike said. “The one is nearly dead and the other just says he’s a soldier following orders. Typical shit. He seems to be under the misguided assumption the Geneva Convention is somehow in play.”

“Funny how animals like that will commit untold atrocities against civilians and then, when they’re captured, fall back on perceived protection of the Convention,” I replied.

“Let’s get them all loaded up and headed to town,” I said.

Dalton produced his Kukri and in one fluid motion severed the ropes holding Micha up. He crashed to the concrete floor, landing on his hands. But they were so numb from being bound all night, he hardly noticed. We pulled him to his feet and gave him clothes, which he couldn’t put on without assistance. Dalton and Mike roughly helped him into a pair of pants and pulled a shirt over his head. His hands were once again bound behind his back and he was stuffed, along with the two Cubans, into the back of the Hummer.

I