but he never had to actually point it at a human being.
“Woah, look at this! He’s even got a gun! Go figure, in Texas of all places!” The sarcasm in the man’s voice was thick, but he was nervous, despite trying to hide it.
“I need you to leave, right now.” Ryan’s voice shook and he took a step closer.
“You don’t have the sack to pull the trigger.”
Ryan raised it in the air and fired one, keeping in mind the minimal supply of ammunition he had. It echoed in the dense air. “The next one will be between your eyes if you don’t start marching back that way.” He pointed the gun toward the road. When it came to his son’s protection, he was willing to do it.
The men took a second, not wanting to show their weakness, but they did as told, taking their time. “We’ll be back. And you better hope we don’t find that silver Toyota you were asking about.”
Ryan clenched his jaw and kept the gun trained on them until they were out of sight. If the thieves and looters were already coming out, he’d have to secure the cellar. He didn’t want to believe that people were already resorting to violence, but in desperate times, people either worked together to make it or they split up and instantly went into survival mode.
With the cellar door gone, he’d have to rig up something that protected them. Fixing the steps would have to wait.
Chapter Seven
Darryl Gibson was surprised that he had made it through the storm. The only thing remaining of his house was his wrap around porch, and he narrowly missed the tornado and hail by a few seconds. Climbing from his cellar, he notated the time on his watch – it was a little after six AM and there was still no sign of the sun. Clouds made everything remain almost as dark as night, and he was shocked when he finally got the first view of all the damage around his place.
Stepping onto the porch, the wood was weak under his boots, bowing with his weight. Several trees remained standing, but the branches were torn up so bad that it’d take a long time to get them back the way they were. He also surveyed all of the uprooted trees – the tornado had unscrewed them like a cork in a wine bottle.
He rarely carried his cell phone with him, but pulled it from his pocket, thankful he had it on him. He wasn’t the best at using it, but he searched through his recent calls and tried to dial Ryan, but nothing happened. It didn’t ring and the screen displayed “call dropped” , flashing in bold letters. He worried about Ryan – he had Cecilia and Ty to care for, and hopefully, he was able to get them to safety in time. They had a pretty nice cellar, much better than his that was halfway caved in. It was nothing short of a miracle that it had protected him and it probably wouldn’t be able to handle another storm without the fear of it completely collapsing and burying him alive.
There was also no sign of his horses. He owned ten and they were nowhere to be found. Where were the fire department and ambulances? His closest neighbors were about a half a mile down the road, so he couldn’t tell if they were up and moving around, attempting to get things back in order.
Darryl had been through some big storms, but never one that completely took his house. He had to get to Ryan and check on them. Along with his house, his farm truck was gone. He ran his boot over the oil stain on the gravel driveway where he parked, the only evidence that he even owned a vehicle. With no horses and no vehicle, the trip to Ryan’s house would take a while. He lived south of Harper Springs and Darryl was north, and he estimated that on foot, it would take almost half a day, and that was in good conditions. There was no telling how the highways and roads would be with downed power lines and trees blocking the way.
He tried calling his son again, with the same result. Cell phone signal was shot, and he resisted the urge to break the phone in half. Eventually, it’d serve a
“Woah, look at this! He’s even got a gun! Go figure, in Texas of all places!” The sarcasm in the man’s voice was thick, but he was nervous, despite trying to hide it.
“I need you to leave, right now.” Ryan’s voice shook and he took a step closer.
“You don’t have the sack to pull the trigger.”
Ryan raised it in the air and fired one, keeping in mind the minimal supply of ammunition he had. It echoed in the dense air. “The next one will be between your eyes if you don’t start marching back that way.” He pointed the gun toward the road. When it came to his son’s protection, he was willing to do it.
The men took a second, not wanting to show their weakness, but they did as told, taking their time. “We’ll be back. And you better hope we don’t find that silver Toyota you were asking about.”
Ryan clenched his jaw and kept the gun trained on them until they were out of sight. If the thieves and looters were already coming out, he’d have to secure the cellar. He didn’t want to believe that people were already resorting to violence, but in desperate times, people either worked together to make it or they split up and instantly went into survival mode.
With the cellar door gone, he’d have to rig up something that protected them. Fixing the steps would have to wait.
Chapter Seven
Darryl Gibson was surprised that he had made it through the storm. The only thing remaining of his house was his wrap around porch, and he narrowly missed the tornado and hail by a few seconds. Climbing from his cellar, he notated the time on his watch – it was a little after six AM and there was still no sign of the sun. Clouds made everything remain almost as dark as night, and he was shocked when he finally got the first view of all the damage around his place.
Stepping onto the porch, the wood was weak under his boots, bowing with his weight. Several trees remained standing, but the branches were torn up so bad that it’d take a long time to get them back the way they were. He also surveyed all of the uprooted trees – the tornado had unscrewed them like a cork in a wine bottle.
He rarely carried his cell phone with him, but pulled it from his pocket, thankful he had it on him. He wasn’t the best at using it, but he searched through his recent calls and tried to dial Ryan, but nothing happened. It didn’t ring and the screen displayed “call dropped” , flashing in bold letters. He worried about Ryan – he had Cecilia and Ty to care for, and hopefully, he was able to get them to safety in time. They had a pretty nice cellar, much better than his that was halfway caved in. It was nothing short of a miracle that it had protected him and it probably wouldn’t be able to handle another storm without the fear of it completely collapsing and burying him alive.
There was also no sign of his horses. He owned ten and they were nowhere to be found. Where were the fire department and ambulances? His closest neighbors were about a half a mile down the road, so he couldn’t tell if they were up and moving around, attempting to get things back in order.
Darryl had been through some big storms, but never one that completely took his house. He had to get to Ryan and check on them. Along with his house, his farm truck was gone. He ran his boot over the oil stain on the gravel driveway where he parked, the only evidence that he even owned a vehicle. With no horses and no vehicle, the trip to Ryan’s house would take a while. He lived south of Harper Springs and Darryl was north, and he estimated that on foot, it would take almost half a day, and that was in good conditions. There was no telling how the highways and roads would be with downed power lines and trees blocking the way.
He tried calling his son again, with the same result. Cell phone signal was shot, and he resisted the urge to break the phone in half. Eventually, it’d serve a
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