Isolation by Jones, Nathan (the first e reader .TXT) 📗

the trucks were either stopped or wildly trying to maneuver, getting in each other's way. He could already hear Denny, voice amplified through a bullhorn, bellowing for Jay and his men to surrender, throw their weapons out of their vehicles, and emerge with their hands up.

But the fight wasn't over yet. Nick shifted his aim to the next truck in the line, shooting at both tires in quick succession. He wasn't sure if he hit them, but they went flat so somebody had. The truck behind that one was peeling out, or flubbling out on at least two flat tires on his side, as it tried to turn around. The two trucks behind that collided with a grinding shriek of metal.

All the tires had been shot out, as far as he could see.

The gunfire petered out, even from Jay's thugs in the trucks, as Denny's voice continued to roar orders over the bullhorn. A few volunteers were cheering, and Val and Charlie joined in as it sank in that they'd done it.

“Anyone hit?” he called to his group, briefly turning his attention away from the trucks. He had to repeat himself a few times before he got answers from everyone, confirming they were fine.

“Boss!” Chet abruptly snapped; the man was still hunched over his rifle, focused on the vehicles below. “They're driving off!”

“They're what?” Nick repeated blankly, whipping his gaze back down to the road below.

Sure enough, the six trucks hadn't given up their efforts to turn around in spite of their flat tires. They were now facing back the way they'd come, engines roaring as they struggled to escape the ambush.

Having their tires shot out hadn't stopped them.

Nick stared at the fleeing trucks, feeling a bit stupid. He was so used to the idea of a flat tire meaning a stopped vehicle that he hadn't considered that when bullets were flying, drivers weren't going to care about something as silly as destroying their rims by driving on a flat.

“What now?” Ben asked from his other side, face pinched in frustration around the scope of his rifle. “They're getting away!”

Denny was shouting after the convoy with increasing desperation, ordering them to stop. But when the gunfire started up again, from Chet and Ben and at least a few others from the sound of it, their leader turned his megaphone towards the volunteers. “Cease fire! Cease fire, everyone! We're done.”

At hearing him Nick reluctantly leaned back and lowered his rifle with a disgusted growl. “You heard him,” he called. “Cease fire, we're done.”

“What?” Chet demanded incredulously. He and his brother had stopped firing, thank goodness, but were still leaning over their rifles tense and ready to start again.

“We're done,” Nick repeated sharply.

“So that's it?” Chet snarled, finger trembling on his trigger. “Shooting out their tires didn't work, so we let them drive away?”

“What would you suggest?” Nick asked. “Try to pick off drivers? Just fire indiscriminately into cabs?”

“Why not?” Ben said, finally finally lifting his head from the scope of his .30-30. “They trashed our house. They shot at you. Jay said he's going to kill you! Maybe they deserve it.”

Nick bit back a sigh, leaning over to put a hand on Chet's shoulder until his friend also eased his finger off the trigger and leaned back. Then he looked around at his team. “You ever hear of the Hatfields and the McCoys?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, a bit. I watched a movie about them once.”

“Yeah, me too.” Nick watched Jay's trucks wobble out of view, sparks flying off a few of their rims. “They were just two normal families who didn't like each other. An argument turned to a feud, and then that feud turned into a tragedy.”

“Yeah, well with them both sides were in the wrong,” Ben snapped. “You saying we're in the wrong here, defending our families, our homes, against that wackjob?”

“Of course not.” Nick took a breath, fighting for calm. Speaking of feuds, the McCleese brothers just seemed to jump from one to another: first the Drydens, now Jay. “But with the Hatfields and McCoys someone was probably in the wrong to begin with. Someone usually is. But both sides just kept on pushing to more and more extreme measures, one-upping each other in how far they were willing to go, until finally by the end of it both sides had done terrible things.”

He slung his rifle, looking around at his friends. “Jay's threatening our town, our loved ones, and we have to fight to defend them. But we also have to fight to stay civilized, to keep our humanity, even when the world's going crazy around us. Otherwise we might end up being the ones terrorizing innocent people while convinced we're in the right.”

He paused significantly. “I don't want to walk away from this crisis haunted by how low I stooped, the unconscionable things I did. I've already had to kill to defend my family, and I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life. I don't want to do it again if I can avoid it.”

Chet looked away, obviously not convinced. “And if you can't?”

Nick gripped the strap of his rifle. “Then we do what we have to. But we do it right.”

Denny blew two squawking signals on his megaphone, then called into it. “All right, guys. Let's get out of here. Jay might get over his surprise and decide to circle back around.”

Considering the tense situation with his people, Nick was happy to jump on that. He backed away from the hilltop and stood. “You heard him. Let's get back to our vehicles.”

Chet opened his mouth, probably to say something like he hoped the man did come back so they could take another crack at him. But before he could Ben nudged him sharply with an elbow. The brothers finally slung their weapons over their backs and hurried to follow Nick, with Val, Charlie, Chase, and the other volunteers bringing up the rear.

They were almost to the vehicles when the radio