Pulling up the drive backward, I watched the road ahead carefully, making sure to back around the house so that the truck was out of sight of the road, but I could still get moving at a run if I needed. Faith was lying about her friends, that was for damn sure. I could expect a visit sooner than later.
We went through what remained of the house with my flashlight, and I closed the door to her brother's bedroom, the entire outer wall burned away. The part of her story about her father was true enough judging by the burnt skeletons.
Her things were all smoky, but she took some clothes, tossing a few into a backpack in a bedroom that looked like the textbook definition of a good little church girl gone bad.
A big gold cross on the wall, pink four poster bed, and a smattering of increasingly parent-angering band posters. I could hear the outdoors with the burned out walls, and no sign of engines or motors yet.
"Let's go, we need to hit the road," I was getting nervous. The ambush was coming, I was sure of it. I wasn't' sure if she was planning her getaway or linking up with her crew, but I wasn't eager to find out.
"Why are you even here still," she asked as she crammed clothes in her bag, "you promised to get me here, your conscience is clear." She pushed past me into a small bathroom, rummaging around and grabbing things. It dawned on me that she was packing a go bag, I'd certainly seen it done enough.
"I promised to get you somewhere safe," I held my light so she could see, "this is not safe." Somewhere in the distance, I heard the put-put-put of a two stroke engine. "You sure they wont check for you here, Faith?"
Faith sagged, looking at me and zipping her bag, "yes."
I sighed, and grabbed Faith, throwing her over my shoulder as she shouted.
The motors were closing, and the lights of the shitty dune buggy stretched long across the road as they neared.
Faith howled rage at the night sky. I'd used the police handcuffs I'd found to secure her to the door of dad's pickup while she spat and hollered at me. Thankfully, at 6'1" I was an able to manhandle her to it easily.
She'd spat in my face, and I'd responded by kissing her hard on the lips, and smearing her spit across her face.
"Sorry, it helps sell things," I told her, winding duct tape over her mouth. "I'll take that off once we're safe."
The buggy rolled up the hill, and another car, a ridiculous super-sized black pickup, parked across the drive. Smart. Someone had a little bit of training, or maybe played a lot of military video games.
With just the snub-nosed in my pocket, I'd need to be stealthy. Wet wipes weren't the only thing I kept in Dad's glove box, and the black k-bar I'd left the service with had been right where I left it under the owners manual, fitting on my belt just like it ever did.
Two of them got out of the buggy, both carrying hunting rifles. They had lanterns, and shone them around, blowing their night vision. The one in the truck across the drive was smarter, and he kept it dark, and seemed to be carrying a heavier rifle.
Laughter rang out as they came across Faith, and she squealed with rage as they made lewd jokes.
"Giving up more than that ass for this one, bitch," a voice that sounded like an overgrown teenage boy rang out and cackled.
I'd gotten around the far end of the driveway by then, having set up on the passengers side of the driveway. The smart one was leaning against his truck, arms crossed, the rifle sitting on the ground, pointing up. Not so smart after all.
The two from the buggy were spreading out around the property, looking for me like they were playing hide and seek.
"Hey there stranger, where you at? Hidey-hoooo."
My new friend was leaning on the passenger side hood of the truck, watching his idiot buddies, so I slipped around the front of the car, bursting forward as I rounded to his side. The tip of the knife went into his neck, and he gurgled as it twisted.
The rifle was nice, thirty-ought-six, there was a sight that would be handy in a pinch, but was pointless this close, and I snapped it off, stuffing it into my pocket. The flashlights were still shining around, casting the idiots clear outlines in the bright lights of the dune buggy. Faith had seen some of what I did, and was raging from under the duct tape her asshole boyfriend had left on while he threatened to 'spin her around and take what was his.'
"One, two, buckle my shoe," I whispered and exhaled just like Grandad taught me. The boyfriend's head popped like a zit, and as the rapport faded, "three, four, knock at the door," another shot and the driver of the dune buggy collapsed in a heap as he turned to me, looking surprised.
I ignored Faith for the time being, figuring she'd need time to calm down. The truck went into the woods across the way, and the dune buggy shortly after it. I'd found a bit of ammo for the rifle, and a the nice cop glock I'd traded for gas on the boyfriend with a clip and a spare on him. The bodies went in the cab of the truck before it went into the woods.
By the time I was done, I trudged back to my pickup where Faith had slid to the ground and wept, tearing off the duct tape. She immediately started sobbing.
"What in the fuck w-w-was that," she wailed, "are you some kind of psycho?"
I fished the keys to the cuffs out of my pocket and stood in front of her, sucking my teeth.
"Nope." I threw back my jacket and rolled up a sleeve, shining one of the lantern lights on my unit tattoo. "Veteran, special forces."
She went back to crying. "Please don't kill me-e-e-eeeee."
I unlocked the cuffs, snapping them off her wrists gently, "I don't plan to. You expect any more of them to come looking?"
Faith sniffled and rubbed her wrist, "I don't think anyone else will come. I just work with those three, and this is their road to work."
"Okay," I reached into the back of the truck and grabbed one of the packs of granola bars, handing it to her. "That ought to hold you."
