Home Coming (The Survivalist Book 10) A. American (read after .txt) 📖

but as is the case most of the time, imagining it and seeing it are two different things. Their enthusiasm quickly faded.

Dalton left the first man in a sobbing heap and stepped over to the next. He was wild with fear, pulling against the cuffs trying to free himself. He shouted in near hysteria, his eyes wide and spittle hanging from his mouth and chin as he looked back over his shoulder. He was firmly in the grip of abject fear.

As Dalton stepped up behind him, he turned his head to see the big man and began shouting, “You don’t have to do this! No, no, no, no, no….” His pleas were cut short when the first blow landed. His groveling stopped as his mouth hung open in a silent scream. It appeared his eyes rolled back and for a moment, his body went rigid. Then he was able to take a breath and let out a blood curdling scream.

Dalton completed the sentence in a very mechanical fashion. The blows were delivered evenly and with an even gap between them. When the last lash landed, Dalton turned and walked away. The men’s restraints were removed and both of them collapsed to the ground. The crowd that so eagerly wanted their blood earlier, gave them a wide birth. Most trying hard to not make eye contact.

I followed Dalton over to the truck where he tossed the cane into the back. “You alright with this?” I asked.

He shrugged, “I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t not enjoy it. It’s just a task that needs to be done. We can’t have people running around here thinking they can do as they please. It drives home a serious message. If people know that justice will be handed out immediately, they are far less tempted to try and steal, rob or commit other crimes the rest of the community has agreed cannot be allowed. It is what it is.”

“Just wanted to make sure you were good with it. You sure that it didn’t bother you?”

Dalton laughed. “No, this doesn’t bother me. Hell, in my youth I once beat a man with a car antenna. I told him to go away. But he wouldn’t listen. So, as I’m unscrewing the antenna from his car he kept asking, what the hell you gonna do with that? Once I got it off, I showed him. I beat him like a slave. A good beating delivers a lasting message that one is not apt to forget. I think this is the best way to deal with such things and I have no problem being that guy.”

As we were loading up to head home, Mario walked over. “Damn, Morgan. You’re going all medieval.”

“What else are we supposed to do? Can’t just let people rob and steal from others.”

“I’m with you. I think it will have a profound effect on the folks around here. Them standing there and watching those two take that beating will leave an impression.”

“That’s the point. You need anything before we leave? You still having trouble with people trying to poach your honey?”

He shook his head. “No, we’re good. We deal with them as we catch them.”

With a sideways look, I asked, “Do I need to ask how?”

Mario looked off in the direction of the gas canopy, “I’d say you’d approve.”

“Fair enough. You need anything, just give me a holler.”

As we shook hands, Mario replied, “Will do. And same goes for me.”

I walked over to where Mel, Lee Ann and Jess were talking. They seemed unphased by what they’d just witnessed and were chatting as if it were a normal day. “You guys ready to go home?” I asked.

Lee Ann rubbed her stomach and said, “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s head home then.”

Sarge echoed my statement when he announced, “Supper will be ready soon! Let’s get on the road to the house!”

We spent the evening at Danny’s house. Mitch and Michelle were given the spare upstairs bedroom for the night. But, as was our custom, we all hung out on the back porch where we had dinner and just enjoyed the company. Aric brought Fred down on an ATV. She said she wanted to get out of the house, needed a change of scenery. She sat with Mel, Jess and Mary. Miss Kay busied herself in the kitchen. She was baking the buns we were taking to the cookout tomorrow as well as serving food to people as they arrived.

I sat on the porch with Sarge, looking out at the pond. The kids were down there wading around in the water trying to catch minnows or tadpoles. Glancing over at Sarge, I asked, “How’s Ivan doing?”

“Bitching. He never stops bitching.” He looked over at me and with a laugh and said, “Ivan really hates you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, I assure you. I’d like to spend some quality time alone with him. Maybe bring Dalton along.”

“Don’t take it personal, Morgan. He’s just a soldier doing what he’s told. No different than our guys that were over in Iraq or Afghanistan.”

“That may be true from his perspective. But from mine, I don’t see it that way. To willingly fire artillery into a civilian area is a war crime. But beyond that, it’s just wrong.”

The old man shrugged and took his pocket knife out. As he dug under his fingernails, he said, “Again, it’s about perspective. At the time, they thought they had us licked. Ole Ivan thought that was the final nail in the coffin. So, there wouldn’t be any consequences. It’s the old, would you rob a bank if you knew you wouldn’t get caught? It’s a moral test.”

“Yeah, well he fucking failed that test.”

“His only mistake was getting caught.”

I leaned back and stretched. “How much longer are we going to have to deal with his ass? I thought Eglin wanted him.”

“They do,” Sarge replied with a nod. “But there isn’t exactly an overabundance of aircraft right now. And coming down here just to scoop up one little commie Colonel isn’t at the