Free Half Past Midnight by Jeff Brackett Page A

tape and walked back outside.
    “Okay, Han, hands behind your back.”
    He didn’t argue, and I soon had his wrists tightly bound. I took the added precaution of taping the fingers of each hand together. I didn’t want him to have any chance of untying the rope. That done, I had him sit while I tied his ankles and knees. When I finished, I told Debra, “All right, babe, you can relax a little.” She lowered the rifle. “Keep an eye on him, but I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere just yet.”
    I turned to Larry. “Your turn, ’Your Majesty.’ ” God, how I despised him!
    He smiled weakly. “You don’t mind if I remain seated, do you?” Despite his nonchalance, I noticed he was extremely pale.
    “Suit yourself.” I bound his good arm to his ankles, again taping the fingers together. I left his wounded arm untied. Much as I disliked him, I didn’t see any reason to cause him any unnecessary pain. He wouldn’t be able to use it much, anyway. Against my better judgment, I patched up the hole in his shoulder. I debated on whether I should try to set his leg, but eventually decided it wasn’t immediately life threatening. Besides, a limp might make him just a little less dangerous to others in the future.
    “Megan, watch these two while your mom and I go get Frank.”
    Debra and I went back into the cabin and dragged out Frank’s unconscious body, laying him with Han and Larry. Leaving them under Megan’s watchful eye, we went back to look through the cabin’s supply dump.
    “Do we have room for any of this?” I asked.
    She looked a little startled. “You want to take their supplies?”
    I turned one of the crates around, exposing a charred corner. “You heard his speech. Larry and company weren’t the original owners. The real owners are lying in the road back there, well beyond needing supplies.”
    “Okay… yes, we can carry some of it.”
    Examining the crates, she got to business. “You’ll want the ammunition. What about the dynamite?”
    I remembered the rear end of the van on the highway. I was willing to bet that there were originally two of those little crates. It might be a little risky hauling dynamite, but there would be considerably less risk involved without someone throwing Molotov cocktails at us. And dynamite could come in very handy. Besides, I wasn’t about to leave it for Larry.
    “Definitely.”
    “Okay, what else?”
    Half an hour later, we were reloaded and on our way, leaving Larry, Han, and Frank where they lay.
    ***
     
    We arrived at Amber’s forty-five minutes later. Amber, my mother-in-law, must have heard us pull up, because she came out to greet us. “I had a feeling I might be seeing y’all. Come on in. Anybody hungry?”
    Thankful, we headed for the sanctuary of her open door.
    “What the hell happened to you?” Amber asked, as I came in behind the others.
    “Tell you later.” I grinned wearily, happy to have finally reached our goal. The aroma of home cooking wafted in through the air. “What smells so good?”
    “Forget the smell. You don’t get zip until you let me see that neck.” Amber was a retired nurse turned small-time chicken and goat farmer and took health risks very seriously. She wasn’t satisfied until she had removed the gauze from my neck and treated the wound herself.
    She got the story from Debra and the kids as she did so. When the story reached the point of all the shooting, though, the kids went silent, and Debra continued a bit shakily, “I killed a man, Mom. I know it had to be done… I… but, I just don’t know how to deal with it right now.”
    Amber kept quiet. Nothing she could say would change anything, and she was wise enough to know that. But it obviously pained her to see her daughter in such anguish. She opened her arms, and Debra curled into them, tears sliding down her cheeks, comforted in her mother’s arms. The tie was ancient and instinctive.
    Everyone had been facing me as Debra spoke: Amber treating my