The Reckoning Episode 3

Get ready for some mayhem

1. Slaughter of the idols

There was silence after the last bullet fired. The room was full of bodies. Men and women wearing tan shirts with pale arms and faces sticking out. Children as well. They were spread out in all directions among shattered furniture and food scraps, the walls full of holes like swiss cheese.

The room was an enormous barn with a ceiling that could have housed three more stories. At the back of the room a strange plaster statue stood in the middle of a stage, a bearded man around ten with his skin painted grey, wearing red and blue clothing. Chunks of exposed white appeared all over the statue where bullet holes had shattered the plaster. The man was missing the right ear and half the right side of his face. On the stage lay two bodies: a thin wiry old man with a long beard, and a giant blond man in his 30s who died behind a podium. The larger man’s face was frozen in an expression of battle fury.

A dozen agents in SWAT gear prowled across the dirt floor of the barn. They turned their weapons from side to side, clearing the room of people. As they neared the stage, one by one their legs straightened out of their catlike stances into the tall poses of triumphant warriors. One of the agents even started to dance like a football player after a touchdown. He was a huge man and the way he shook from side to side with his helmet and full body armour was comical.

The agent at the front stood above the body of the older man and pointed his assault rifle down at the body as if he expected him to rise from the dead. The body had a look of stoic calm, as if the man had forseen and accepted his grisly fate. But he had been taken by surprise, shot in the forehead before he could realise the ambush was happening.

Somebody fired another shot, suddenly breaking the silence. The agent standing on stage turned with his gun raised. The dancing man had blown the head off the statue at point blank range. He knew he fucked up, his college almost shot him. He dropped his gun to his waist and spread his hands apologetically. The man on the stage lowered his weapon slowly while shaking his head in disapproval, the two men talking with their hands like mimes.

During the break in concentration the shot caused the team, a thin woman in wearing the brown shirt and jeans appeared from behind the stage. She sprinted across it in a low crouching movement that was almost a crawl on all fours. She went past the agent standing on the stage and dove face down on top of the body of the large blond man. Her mane of dark hair spread over his chest while she clung tight to him as if she was drowning and his body could float her to safety.

Three armoured agents took hold of her by the arms and legs and pulled her away. The woman wailed in despair, tears rolling down her eyes and mixing with the blood of her lover on her face, a river of red running down her pale neck.

They shouted at her to be quiet but she was indifferent to her fate and continued to moan with grief. The agents dragged her kicking and screaming out of the front door of the barn. Gradually, the sound of her cries faded until the scene of the slaughter was silent again.

2. Showdown at the Shack

Out the front of a small shack in the woods at 3 in the morning under flood lights, a giant man let out a furious howl. Before the smoke cleared he lifted his enormous tree trunk of a leg and stomped the heel of his boot in the stomach of the man before him with unexpected speed. The blow launched the man in the cowboy hat backwards on to the couch behind him, which dealt him a second impact. The giant turned his attention to his right, to the blood splattered girl with the pistol still smoking in her hand. He lunged towards her, reaching for the hand with the gun. By the time she fired he had his hand gripped around her forearm, so that the bullet sheered through his left bicep and shoulder. It was a gruesome injury, but not enough to slow his forward momentum. His fist collided with her face so hard it sounded like a basketball hitting concrete. She fell back onto the couch next to the man in the cowboy hat.

Cowboy had only killed once before and it was in cold blood. But he’d been in a lot of fights. He’d replayed every fight he’d ever been in in his head a thousand times, trying to think his way to being a perfect warrior. He’d learned the danger of doing too much and the danger of doing too little. He knew the stupid things you can do when you allow fear or anger to take control. He had to make a decision fast and he wasn’t sure if he was willing to deal with the consequences of another murder, but he had to stop the man from attacking. Before he caught his breath from the kick, he fired his glock twice, aiming at the left knee, then the right. There was a crunching sound as bones were shattered. But Rick was already leaning forward and reaching across with his uninjured arm to grab Cowboys gun. And so he fell towards him. Cowboy leapt out of the way and Rick’s twisting motion continued until he had his back on the lounge. Cowboy used the butt of his gun to strike the top of Ricks head like a hammer, repeatedly. Ricks hand fighting for the gun became slower with every blow but there was still life in his eyes.

Cowboy circled off the couch. He stood with his back to the rail of the balcony holding his gun with both hands and pointing it at Rick. Rick looked confused, like he didn’t know what he was looking at. His arms were crossed, holding his mangled left arm with his right. Blood trickled from a wound on his head. Maybe I’ve already gone too far, Cowboy thought. Maybe I should finish the job.

Without warning, his ears were assaulted by the sound of yet another close range gunshot. Rick’s sister Catherine was standing at the door of the house holding a bolt action rifle. The French travellers had split and started sprinting back towards the cars out the front for cover. Catherine had opened the door and fired at the first thing she saw: Leo, who ran behind his two beloved women while he ushered them to safety. He was hit in the body and collapsed face down in the dirt. Jochevelle shreiked his name.

It gave Cowboy just enough time. First he fired in the general direction of Catherine, then he leapt over the balcony like an olympic high jumper and sprinted through the tall grass out the front. He zig zagged his movements so that her shots missed, bullets hit the ground and caused grass and soil to fly through the air. Once he got close to Jo and Leo, he took a sharp turn towards them. Jo was carrying a barely conscious Leo over her shoulders. Cowboy collided with them like a football player. He drove them behind the rusty car for cover. A bullet from Catherine’s rifle hit the corner of the car and sent sparks and flakes of rust everywhere.

Marie was already there when they got there, curled into a fetal position and hyper ventilating. There wasn’t much time to spare. If Elektra became conscious, Catherine would shoot her dead. Rick might have come lucid and even shot her with her own gun. Cowboy had the advantage of being quicker to load and aim and he could move a lot faster than the big woman. It was now or never.

He took a deep breath and sprinted back out, drawing her fire, then dove through the air and hit the ground with a sloppy commando roll like he was falling off a bike. Catherine fired. She missed. No time to waste. He got up from his sprawled position and sprinted towards her. He cocked the pistol and fired. Again. And again. He screamed a war cry just like Rick had moments earlier. His vision was red and his skin felt like fire. He didn’t know which shot it was that landed but it knocked Catherine over like a bowling pin.

He put the breaks on his sprint and galloped up the front step. Inside the front door her could see Catherine sitting hunched over on the floor, her rifle at least four feet away from her. There was blood coming from her mouth but she was breathing. Her eyes met his. He pointed the pistol at her with both hands and tensed his face up for a moment, then he sighed and dropped it back down to his waist. Catherine lifted her half limp arms and put a middle finger up at him with each hand. He felt like shit. She’d only been defending her own home.

He turned his attention back to the couch and saw a bloody crippled Rick hunched over Elektras unconscious body on the couch next to him.

“Hey! Stop that or Ill blow your fucking brains out!”

“Fuck you! I’m dying anyway, I’ll take you with me.”

Rick scrambled for the gun with his only functional arm. Cowboy marched up and pistol whipped him once more, this time in the temple. He moaned and turned back into the fetal position. Cowboy hit him with the glock again.

Why won’t you go unconscious? I’m hitting you with a two pound lump of metal. For fuck’s sake.

He decided to try something different and took a few steps to wind up and kick his head like a soccer ball. This time Rick collapsed out of the couch and onto the floor of the balcony.

Cowboy took in a big gulp of breath. He didn’t know how long he’d forgotten to breathe for. He looked at the scene before him. Elektra was unconscious with her arms sprawled on the couch and a huge swollen purple nose. Marvin was nothing but a pile of mangled flesh on the dog bed. Rick was collapsed on the floor with three bullets in him possibly bleeding to death. In the house, Catherine, almost certainly bleeding to death. Leo? Who knew?

He took a seat beside his partner in crime. He could see she was breathing. At least that’s one positive. He kissed her on the head.

Then he whispered. “I’m going to need you to wake up soon Lek. I can’t deal with this mess all by myself.”

3. The Interrogation

“My daughter is a victim.” The woman who spoke was small but looked powerful. She wore a broad-shouldered suit jacket, short dark hair, and a spine that never seemed to bend. “She was brainwashed by a racist, fascist anti-American cult. That’s not hyperbole agent, they are an actual cult.”

“Were.” They sat opposite a silver-haired Hispanic-looking man in his fifties with large hands and the bulbous red nose of a lifelong drinker. “We understand your position, Congresswoman Cony. But these were dangerous people we’re talking about—and Vanessa was involved at the highest level.”

“She’s twenty years old. She can’t even vote in our state.”

“Whatever they did to get to her—it worked. And knowing who you are, Congresswoman, your daughter was the first member of the Clan we reached out to for intel on the plot. What was it you said about the FBI, Vanessa?” The man narrowed his eyes toward the young woman sitting beside her mother. She trembled.

“Don’t answer that, Nessa,” her mother said.

“Your daughter told a senior agent of this Bureau—and I quote—‘you can all go fuck each other like the gay pedophiles you are.’”

“Nessa!” the congresswoman said. She was preening as if they weren’t sitting across from the man who had gunned down her daughter’s husband right in front of her eyes.

“Clan Ragnarok,” Agent Hernandez continued. “A psychopathic Nazi cult named after the Viking apocalypse. Your daughter was there, Congresswoman Cony. What she knows, I don’t know—but I will find out.”

“You’re murderers,” Vanessa whispered.

“What did you say? Speak up.”

“Murderers!”

“That’s enough, Nessa. If you want me to get you out of here, you’re going to need to watch what you say.” Samantha Cony said to her daughter.

“It’s not murder if it’s self-defence. During the raid on the Ragnarok Clan lodge, one of the members, your husband, opened fire on us. We returned fire and tragically, all members of the lodge were killed. Except for one.”

Nessa said only one word. “No.”

“No what?”

“There were no guns in the lodge. Nobody fired at you.”

“We have body cam footage. Your husband, Ian Rudd, was giving a speech on the podium. When our agents entered, he drew a weapon and pointed it at them. He opened fire first.”

“No. He never misses.” She caught herself. “He never missed. If he shot at you, you’d be dead.”

There was a silence.

Samantha folded her arms. “We need to keep this out of the press, Hernandez. For both our sakes. You know I chair Oversight, we’re already reviewing federal misconduct cases before the fall elections.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m aware.” Agent Hernandez didn’t look up—he scrolled on his phone.

“You’ve held my daughter for three days without charge,” she added. “I’ve been patient. But if you think I won’t subpoena the Bureau over this, you’ve mistaken me for someone who isn’t six months away from dragging your director into a televised hearing.”

Still not looking at them, Hernandez placed his phone face-up on the table. He hit play.Body cam footage. A federal agent entering the barn. The huge blond man behind the podium, Rudd, produced a pistol and raised it toward the camera. Before he could fire, he was riddled with shots to the stomach and chest. And then, chaos. Screams. Gunfire.

Hernandez stopped the video and pocketed the phone.

Nessa looked broken. “No. I was there. He didn’t have a gun.”

“You just saw the gun, Nessa,” her mother said flatly.

“They’ve done something to the video,” she muttered.

“Listen to yourself,” her mother snapped. “You always think everyone’s out to get you. This isn’t about you. These men are here to keep the country safe from extremists like Ian.”

Nessa burst into tears.

“We’ll allow one month of house arrest. No devices, no internet,” Hernandez said. “But we’ll need her to testify against the Clan.”

Samantha Cony rose from her seat, brushing an invisible wrinkle from her blazer.

“Consider it done, Agent.”

4. The Aftermath

“One.”

“Huh?”

“I give getting shot in the back one out of ten.” Cowboy had come to help Leo get to the house. The bullet had hit him in the shoulder blade, which was painful but didn’t stop him from walking. He was holding pressure on the front exit with Maries purple headband while Jo held her own headband against the entry wound on the back. Jo was focused on Leo and hadn’t even so much as given Cowboy a dirty look.

When they approached the house, Elektra was standing on the balcony holding her broken nose with both hands. Nobody said a word to her, not even Cowboy.

He quickly popped his head inside the door to make sure Cath wasn’t back on her feet holding the rifle. Nope. Her eyes were closed. Fuck.

“We’ll get whatever medical supplies we can, then we’ll drive you to the nearest hospital.”

Leo forced a smile. “We will have a good story to tell when we get home.”

They stepped into the front room of the house. It was open plan, the kitchen connected to the living room in the front, the rooms in the hall down the back. A few beer bottles and dirty clothes lying around but it was still fairly cosy. There was a plastic dump truck between the coffee table and the television. Cowboy wondered how many children he’d just orphaned.

As they stepped past Catherine, Jochevelle spat on her. Catherine lifted her head and sneered.

“French bitch!”

Cowboy took command. “Go to the bathroom and look for bandages and disinfectant. Go!”

Jo and Leo left the room while he stayed behind, standing over the bleeding Catherine. When he looked up he realised Marie was still there.

“Thank you. I’m sorry this happened.” She said.

“Can you check on Elektra? Its her you have to thank. I want to be alone. With... my victim. I guess.” Marie nodded and went back outside.

Catherine was still, staring at him with cold eyes. He knew she could be gone any moment. But she’d also been the same way when they first got there.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Are you gonna finish me off or what?”

“I can’t. I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t want this.”

“That doesn’t help me much. That you’re sorry. Can you get my blanket? It’s on the couch. I’m cold.”

“Of course.”

“And hot chocolate. In the pantry. I have it with skim milk. And get my phone it on the bench.”

He grabbed the couch cushions with the blanket. He could use them to try to stop the bleeding. It would probably be hopeless but he had to try.

“Where are you hit?”

“Everywhere. I’m like swiss cheese.” She took the cushions from him anyway and pressed them to her legs and under her armpits. “Are you gonna stand there and look sorry for yourself or are you going to help me enjoy my last moments alive?”

“Whatever you want.”

“My phone password is 112395. My birthday. I want you to put on StarTalk with Neil DeGrasse Tyson. I can listen to him talk about the stars.” Her eyes closed.

Something came over him. “Stay with me! We’ll get help! Come on just stay alive!”

Jo and Leo were back in the room. “What is wrong with you? She shot Leo, let her die.” Jo said.

“It was my fault she shot him. She heard gun shots.”

“Yes, it was your fault. Now focus on helping us.”

He shook his head. “I have to help everybody.”

“You can’t.”

“I have to try.”

Leo shook his head. “Brother, the nearest emergency room is 40 miles. We would have to get them both into a car to get them there in time. We can’t do it. They’ll die. We can look out for you and Elektra. Tell the police they started it.”

Cowboy shook his head. “Thank you man, but they wont buy it. Two guns vs one, in their house. Ours are illegal. It’s not going to fly. But here’s what well do: we’ll drop you off at ER and then we’ll disappear. You can tell the police whatever you want.”

“I will tell the story but you are a black couple from New York and you drive a purple Toyota camry.”

Cowboy laughed. Leo was something special, thinking on his feet at a time like this. “Ok, lets do it.”

He took his phone from his pocket. Before he touched the maps app he quickly brought up his chat with Nero.

Punished_Cowboy: I’m ready. For the Toronto job. Or any job. Im your guy.

There was no use resisting any longer. Working for Nero couldn’t be any worse than the mess he and Elektra had managed to create on their own.

5. Family Reunion

The old room in Nessa’s mother’s house had been converted into a guest room with bare walls and an empty closet. She stayed inside for four days with the blinds half shut she staring at the ceiling with a heart full of grief and an empty stomach, trying to lie in a way where she wouldn’t feel her ankle bracelet. She only left to get drinking water and go to the bathroom. She paid no attention to time. Who cares what time it is when the one you love is dead and you’re probably going to federal prison?

Even so, when night fell without her hearing her mother come home she knew something was odd. Usually before the sun was down Nessa would hear her stomping around in the kitchen and barking orders at her husband, Nessa’s step father.

When she finally heard the knock on the door she was prepared for the worst. She waited for Samantha’s voice to shriek at her like she did every evening. Nothing.

“Come in.” She said cautiously.

The door cracked opened and a pale pudgy face appeared. It was her half brother, Jesse. “Mom’s not coming home tonight. She’s in hospital. Dad’s there with her.”

“Oh.” Nessa and Jesse hadn’t spoken in over a year. She had no idea what he thought of her late husband, Clan Ragnarok or anything else about the present situation. “Is she going to be ok?”

“She said not to worry. Are you hungry? I got pizza, vegetarian for you.”

It felt strange to be treated like a person again. “Yeah. I’ll have some.”

“Do you want me to bring it up?”

“No. I’ll come down.”

She put on some black jeans and a Slayer shirt, tied her hair into a pony tail and made her way down into the living room. Jesse had moved his Playstation to the living room to use the 70 inch plasma and was staring intently at a game of Fortnite. Nessa chomped down a piece of pizza in seconds. After a few bites of her second piece, she asked her brother what happened.

Without taking his eyes of the screen he said: “There was a car bomb. Somebody tried to kill her and another Congressman. Well, they did kill him. She got hit with something, got cut up. She’s getting surgery.”

She sat there for a while thinking. The world was becoming a very crazy place all of a sudden.

“I guess they don’t know who.”

Jesse shook his head and then threw down the game controller in frustration. He sunk back into the couch, his head folding over the back head rest. His eyes were watering and he was shaking a little.

“Hey.” She came over and sat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. They’d never been close but never been enemies either, it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Do you want to kill me Nessa?” Jesse said.

“What? What are you talking about Jesse?”

“They say you want to kill me because I’m jewish. Is it true?”

“Of course not. It’s not about that. It’s about the system, what they’re doing to us.”

“What about dad? Jewish and part of the system.” She was quiet. Jesse chuckled a little but it came across dry.

“You’re my brother. If they day ever came, I would hide you in the attic.” Nessa said.

“I don’t think it’s me who is gonna need to hide from somebody.”

“No.”

Jesse got up and started walking towards the kitchen then he paused and turned to her. He looked like he wanted to say something but he couldn’t quite get it out.

Nessa knew she couldn’t say anything else to convince him. Some members of the Clan had strong thoughts on the jews some didn’t. Her husband had promised her they would never do anything to hurt Jesse. Not that Clan Ragnarok had plans to hurt anybody at all.

Finally, Jesse said “I want to show you something.” He came back and put a note pad down on top of a pizza box on the table in front of them. He put a finger to his lips indicating to be quiet. Someone could be listening. They probably were. She nodded and then looked down at what was written on the notepad. It said “I can help you escape.”

6. Meet the sheriff

“We’re still friends right?” Cowboy thought it was funny but apparently the three in the back of the car were a tough crowd. Leo sat in the middle so both Marie and Jo could apply pressure to his wounds. He was starting to to look pale and clammy.

Finally he responded “Yes.” But his trademark grin was nowhere to be seen.

Cowboy was trying to concentrate on driving but Elektras breathing through her broken nose was making an awful sound and it was driving him crazy. They were driving back past the bee farm back towards Fort Allen, the largest town in the region. Up on the horizon over the small hill, red and blue lights appeared heading their direction.

Shit. Cops. He’d been going 110 miles an hour so he hit the breaks causing everybody to bounce out of their seat. Within a few moments two police cars with Broken Antlers Sheriff Department written on the side shot past at break neck speed. They had lights but no sirens. Behind them, a black Ford sedan followed, keeping up speed and formation.

“Nobody called them did they?” Cowbody asked. Everyone was silent. “I don’t blame anyone, it’s ok if you did. I just need to know if they’re looking for us.” Still silence. “Broken Antler’s Sheriff Department driving towards the farm at 3 am. Doesn’t look good. Let’s hope they don’t turn around.”

He had his eye on the road behind him for the next minute or so. Just when he thought they were in the clear, the lights appeared on the horizon again heading back in their direction.

It was over. They’d gotten away with a murder that was on every TV station only to get bored and follow some stupid hippies to a shack in the woods and get in to a pointless gun fight. It was going to cost them everything.

What do I do, he thought. Do I fight them? They had three cars, he would be outnumbered. They would be prepared to face two shooters as well. And it wasn’t fair on his friends in the back. If they were really his friends. Nobody is going to say their real opinion of you after they’ve seen you fill two people and a dog with bullets over a minor disagreement.

As the police got nearer they turned on their high beams and their sirens. No time to decide. He pulled the car over next to a patch of woods.

“What are you doing?” It was Elektra, speaking with a nasal twang because of her broken nose.

“I’m not getting in a car chase. I’ll get us all killed.”

“Well what the fuck then? Are we going to shoot them? I’m ready to go.” She raised her pistol.

He shook his head. “They’re ready for us. We don’t stand a chance.”

“So? What else are we going to do but die fighting?”

He gazed out the passenger window towards the woods. But Elektra was already ahead of him, out the door and running around the front of the car and between the trees.

“Elektra!” He took off after her. Behind him a voice shouted for him to stop. He tripped on a root and hit his knee on a rock. Pain shot up through his entire leg. Then he was up again, running. “Elektra! Im coming! Where are you?” Please, he thought. I don’t want to go to prison without saying goodbye. Slow down please! I’m coming with you.

He heard a loud thump. “Thomas! Help!” Elektra screamed.

“I can hear you. Keep talking.” Half a dozen torches shone through the trees behind him.

“Thomas I’m hurt.” He couldn’t anything but he could tell she was only a few feet away now. He slowed down, feeling around on the ground for her. When he found her, holding her leg, he laid down next to her. They embraced, one last time. He fondled her hair and kissed her.

“If they get us here it’s over, be quiet and lets hope for the best.” They kissed passionately.

“You’re under arrest.” A voice shouted out in the darkness. “Give yourselves up now and you won’t be charged with resisting arrest.”

“You could do it.” Elektra whispered. “You could kill them all. Take my gun as well.”

For a moment he believed her and he felt a surge of strength. Like he was a warrior of legend from another time. He rose to his feet slowly. But then the lights hit his eyes and forced him to come back to reality.

“Hands on your head NOW!” His eyes had no time to adjust to the light. They were on him. Men who had moved among the trees their entire lives.

The cop who put the handcuffs on him was tall and strong, in his late 50s with light hair and a beard. He twisted Cowboy’s arm behind his back and started to march him back towards the road. Cowboy tried to look back to see the other officers but the man used his other hand to keep his head facing forwards. He spoke with a sardonic tone: “So, we finally meet.”

Cowboy heard Elektra groan. “Be careful with her, she’s hurt.”

“She’ll be ok bud. We know how to treat a lady around here.” He couldn’t tell if the remark was intended to be threatening. The mans demeanor was odd and unsettling. “We’re gentlemen. Like you Thomas. That’s what she called you wasn’t it?” Cowboy said nothing.

As they approached his car, he saw that his passengers were gone. “Did you take my friend to the hospital? Is he ok?”

“We look after people around here Thomas. We don’t go to their house and shoot them and their dogs, that’s for damn sure. Where’s your gun by the way bud?”

“In my coat pocket.”

Another officer came from behind and took it from him. He turned it over in his hand, examining it. “Nice Glock bud. Sounds like you’re not too bad at using it either.”

As they opened the door to the car he caught a glance at Elektra being put in the car in front. Their eyes met maybe for the last time and then he was shoved into the back seat. The car smelled new.

The tall cop who had marched him out of the woods took the passenger seat while his colleague drove. “We going to the station?” the driver said.

“Nope. Straight to the property for this one.” He turned his steel gray eyes to Cowboy in the mirror. “You look like you could use some sleep eh bud? I know I could.”

Cowboy wanted to stay silent but it was clear the man was a talker. “That’s all that I’ve wanted all fucking night.”

The man chuckled. “You’ll get it bud dont you worry. My names Parker, I’m the Sheriff in this town.”

Parker? Where had he heard that name before? Something to do with the town. His ears were ringing from all of the gun shots and he couldn’t think.

“And you’re Thomas. And you don’t like to talk. Or not when you’re tired anyway. Maybe you should get some rest and we can talk in the morning eh?” He turned his head all the way over to face Cowboy and grinned. Then he reached over with a grey plastic looking pistol and pulled the trigger. There was a whistling sound and Cowboy felt a stabbing pain. He looked down to see a dart sticking out of his chest with red and black stripes around the base. “Nighty night.”

He felt his body soften. His vision went black.