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

he made it to the top of the platform. He looked out across the crowd, then at Micha, who wouldn’t make eye contact. I think he was starting to get the idea he wasn’t getting out of this.

Mitch turned to face the crowd and licked his lips. “These men have committed grave crimes against the community. Murder, maiming and sowing distrust.” Mitch turned to face Micha, “You’ve admitted your crimes, and on behalf of our community I sentence you to death by hanging.”

Shock filled Micha’s face as he started to cry out, “You said if I told the truth you wouldn’t kill me!”

The crowd erupted with shouts of, “Hang him! Hang them all!”

Micha, still trying to talk his way out of this, struggled. But he was no match for Dalton who roughly pushed him into position on the platform and pulled the rope over his head. Micha tucked his chin into his chest in a last-ditch effort to keep the rope from tightening around his neck. But Dalton gave him an open palm slap to the groin. It let the air out of Micha and Dalton was easily able to cinch the noose tight.

Sarge came up on the platform as this was being done. The two Cubans began to understand just what was happening and one of them, the less injured of the two, began to pray in Spanish.

“As the highest ranking military official here, I sentence these two soldiers to death for war crimes committed against civilians. They’ll share the same sentence as Micha, hanging by the neck until they are dead.”

All the while, Micha was still blubbering, sobbing and cursing us for lying to him. He’d spent his days since The Day aligning himself with those he felt were stronger. He was happy to do whatever he was told, with no thought or consideration for those he was helping to harm, so long as it meant he could eat and live comfortably. But that time was about to run out, at the end of a rope.

Mike and Ted moved the Cubans over their trapdoors and placed the nooses around their necks without protest. They were resigned to their fate. Or maybe they decided they would go out like men and not like a coward. I couldn’t imagine what was going through their minds. I know I wouldn’t stand patiently by while someone hanged me. They’d surely get the job done, but by God, I’d make it a challenge for them.

Once the men were in position, we stepped back from them. I looked down to see Danny holding the rope for Micha’s trapdoor. He had it wrapped around his wrist and was staring intently at the man. Thad had the other two ropes, one wrapped around each wrist as well.

Danny sneered at Micha and said, “May you rot in hell!” And he gave the rope a violent jerk. The trapdoor fell out from under Micha’s feet and the rope caught him. But it didn’t break his neck. Instead he writhed against his own weight, slowly suffocating him. Danny stepped towards him, Micha’s upturned face only a foot or so higher than his own as the two Cubans fell through the platform, snapping their ropes tight.

Danny watched with morbid intensity as Micha kicked and jerked. As the blood vessels in his eyes burst. When the man finally stopped moving, Danny studied him for a moment longer. Then he drew his pistol and shot Micha in the face. There would be no doubt about whether he was dead or not.

The crowd was silent. The blood lust leading up to the act drained away as they watched life leave the three men. Their limp bodies turning slowly from their ropes. The crowd started to drift out of the park, the spectacle of dying men, and the rush of morbid excitement that comes with it, now spent. Leaving those that witnessed it feeling an uncertain shame in the pit of their stomachs.

We walked down off the platform where Cecil was waiting. He nodded approvingly as we passed him. “It was done good. Done right.” He said.

“It’s never good, Cecil,” Sarge replied.

Cecil looked at the three men as they twisted slowly. “Maybe not good. But some men, some men just need killing. Micha was a sneaky little shit willing to sell his soul to the highest bidder. He was a constant source of distrust and trouble. I bet things calm down a little around here now.” He nodded at one of the Cubans, “As for those two poor bastards, war sucks. It’s the price you pay to play that game. I’ve seen worse done to men who were captured.”

“But we aren’t like that. We’re not going to torture them just for the sake of inflicting pain. To extract information?” Sarge asked, “Sure. Anyone who says torture doesn’t work during interrogations has never properly employed it. But that’s the end of its usefulness. Beyond that, it’s just bloodlust; and that’s where we have to draw the line. Lest we become like them.”

Cecil nodded. “It’s a dangerous line, that’s for sure.”

“It needed to be done, and it’s done,” I replied.

“It seems to have calmed people down,” Ted said as he watched the crowd slowly plod away from the park. “Looks like all their piss and vinegar is spent.”

“When pressure builds, you have two choices,” Sarge said. “You either vent it. Or you don’t and it explodes.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder towards the men on the ropes, “This was the vent.”

“That’s a fucked-up way of looking at it,” I said.

“Why? You saw these people when we got here. Only thing missing was the pitchforks and torches. Now they’re calmed down. They got their blood.”

“I’d hate to think we hung those men just to satisfy some group bloodlust,” I replied.

“We didn’t,” Danny’s voice caught me off guard. “We hung them because they killed Bobbie. And many others. You saw the bodies. You saw what they did. They needed killing and we killed them. Period.”

I nodded.