Jack
I was in a half-doze when a noise outside caused my eyes to open. The bunkhouse was still dark. It was impossible to tell how long I had been out. The noise was subtle, nearly silent, but distinct. It was the sound of a car door closing. For a moment, I thought it might be Jessica coming to pay me another late-night visit, but I quickly dismissed the thought. From a mile away, I could feel the sexual, wonderful radiance of that girl. This was someone else.
I looked over and saw Corey sound asleep on his belly with a single arm and leg hanging off the bed. I heard another series of clicks, and then the calmness of night exploded in the thunderous roar of gunfire.
Without thinking, I rolled off my bed and laid chest down on the floor. Glass from the window above my bed rained down on my head, and I covered my neck with my hands. I heard a thud on the floor from the back of the bunkhouse. I worried Corey had been hit, but I couldn’t see him. “What the fuck!” he screamed, his voice barely audible over the barge of bullets blowing tiny holes in the bunkhouse walls.
In the midst of the chaos, a new sound rang out. A rifle, large caliber. The rampage of automatic fire halted briefly as voices communicated loudly outside. From my prone position, I could see the front door, and I watched the handle, waiting for it to move. On my forearms, I crawled along the floor. To my right, I could see Corey doing the same, making his way toward me. I motioned for him to stay down. He gave me a thumbs up, and then night exploded again. Rounds flew above our heads, moonlight peaking through the new holes in the wall.
Jessica. I could guess who was outside. It didn’t take the world’s greatest detective to figure that out. I just knew I had to survive long enough to make sure Jessica wasn’t in any danger. The hail of terror stopped again, and I watched the handle to the front door turn slowly. I sprang into action.
Just as I reached the door just as it was opening, and I saw the barrel of a rifle poke through. I crashed into the door with my shoulder, putting every ounce of strength I had into it. The man on the other side growled in pain as the door slammed shut on his arm.
Corey didn’t wait anytime either, and as I held the door shut, he attempted to wrestle the weapon free. The man on the other end fought back and, in a feat of strength, I wouldn’t have thought possible, pushed back against the door, knocking me on my ass. Corey didn’t let go of the weapon but caught the butt of the rifle to his chin for his trouble. A spray of blood, and Corey fell to the floor, clutching his jaw.
The man that walked through was easily four inches taller than me and had to weigh nearly three hundred pounds, which made him a certified monster. His head was shaved, and a deep scar tan across his cheek, disappearing behind a thick beard. A sleeveless leather jacket with patches was draped across his shoulder, but the man wouldn’t be able to close it around his protruding gut with the help of a pry bar. He looked down at me with murderous rage as he put the rifle on his shoulder and aimed his sight center mass of my chest.
Before he could fire, Corey leaped onto his back, fighting for control of the weapon. The giant swung him around like a rag doll, but Corey held on like his life depended on it. Like OUR lives depended on it. I had to help him, and there was only one way to bring down someone that size.
I pushed myself back on the feet and kicked for his groin like it was a football, and this was the game-winning field goal. It wasn’t exactly honorable, but this wasn’t a boxing match. This was life or death.
The behemoth squealed in pain as he fell to the floor. Corey ripped the weapon free from the man’s hands and emptied the magazine into the monster.
The smell of carbon filled the air. Blood pooled on the floor around the assassin’s body. Before we could breathe a sigh of relief, two shots were fired. The bullets slammed into Corey’s body, sending him to the ground. I rushed for the weapon, but as I picked it up, I heard a familiar voice. “Not so fast.” It was Sherif William. “Put the gun down. Slowly.”
Corey was writhing in pain on the ground, silently gritting his teeth. The rounds had hit his thigh and his shoulder. I knew it had to hurt like hell, but he wouldn’t give Sherif Williams the satisfaction of screaming.
The shots were wide of each other. Maybe the Sheriff wasn’t a great shot? I tried to calculate how quickly I could turn, but judging by the sound of his voice, he was close. Slowly, I set the weapon down and turned to face my executioner.
Pointed at me was a six-shot revolver. If I had to guess, it shot a forty-five caliber, but I couldn’t tell. That wasn’t what surprised me. On the ground outside was the body of another gunman. The large caliber rifle I had heard could only mean one thing. Mr. Bell was out there, which meant I had help.
Almost on cue, I heard a rapid bust of shots coming from the burnt-out barn’s direction. Another rifle blast echoed, and then the first weapon rang out again. Then silence.
Sherif Williams chuckled to himself. “Bye-bye, Mr. Marcus.” My anger poured out of my eyes as I watched the Sherif smirk. Part of me wondered why he hadn’t killed me yet. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. This is your fault after all,” he said. Oh, right. The villain is supposed to do a monologue first. I only hoped I would have the chance to deliver a victory one-liner when this was all said and done. “You should have known that us Williams boys don’t get even. We get ahead. If only you had gotten in the car with me, poor Corey here wouldn’t be bleeding to death right now. Marcus would still be alive. You know who I really feel sorry for? Jessica. Jake’s with that little slut right now. Her and the lovely Mrs. Bell. I can’t imagine the fun he’s having. Hell, I think I might join him. Once Hector makes his way back, he can come too. We’ll make a party out of it. Let’s call it a coming-of-age party. Oh no, even better. How about a going away party?”
I saw Sherif Williams’ finger squeeze around the trigger. I closed my eyes. The only thoughts that filled my head were of Jessica and how I let her down. Then, I heard the shot.
***
Jessica
The sound of gunfire pierced the silence of sleep. I shot up in bed, making no mistake about what I had heard. I had been around guns all my life and knew what they sounded like. They sounded distant. The bunkhouse.
In a frenzy, I threw my blankets to the side and ran to my window. The same window I had first spied Jack through. It seemed like so long ago, but just yesterday at the same time. In the distance, I saw bright flashes and couldn’t fight back the tears that rapidly fell from my eyes. Jack.
My bedroom door flew open, scaring me half to death. The first thing I saw was the shotgun. Then the wielder. My mother was in her robe and nightgown, standing in my doorway, her eyes wide with panic. She rushed into my room and closed the door behind her, then clicked the lock in place.
“What’s going on?” I asked, fear threatening to close my throat completely.
“It’s going to be okay, baby. Come here.” I didn’t believe her. The look on her face wasn’t the one of a person who knew everything was going to be alright. I stood, paralyzed with fear, until my mother put her arm around me. “Everything’s going to be fine. I just need you to be very quiet, okay?” I nodded my head as she led me to the corner of my bedroom. We crouched on the floor, my mother embracing me with one hand, the other keeping the shotgun trained on my door.
I sobbed quietly against my mother’s shoulder, wishing I could have been braver. Maybe I was just a child, after all. I certainly felt like one as I wiped the flood of tears from my face. I needed Jack. I needed to see that he was okay, to feel him pull me into his body and kiss me. As I hoped against hope, I watched the handle to my bedroom door turn slowly.
In an instant, my mother pulled her arm from around my shoulder and braced it against the shotgun, then pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening. It was sound loud that it physically hurt, and my ears rang like a church bell was in my head.
“You fucking bitch!” I could recognize that sick, demented voice anywhere. It was Jake. I knew the shotgun could hold six shots. One was gone. We needed help, and we needed it right now.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/12upqlg/the_ranch_chapter_13_jack_and_jessica_plot