A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead Hunt, Jack (read my book TXT) 📖

“You are hardly in a position to say what you can or can’t do.”

“Listen, my brother is injured. I’m just trying to find out where the physician has gone. There’s no medicine over there.”

“Of course there isn’t. It’s to prevent someone like you from breaking in and stealing it.”

“We weren’t looking to steal.”

“We?”

“My brothers.”

“How many?”

“Three but one is out cold. We were attacked back at the hardware store.”

“So you were looking to steal.”

He sighed. “Look. If you want to squeeze the trigger. Go ahead, lady, I don’t give a shit. I just want to get some help for my brother. Do you know where the physician is?”

“You’re speaking to her.”

Jessie slowly turned his head and cast a glance over his shoulder to see an open storm shelter by the side of the house, and a full-figured woman with spiky pink hair, shaved at the sides. She wore a jean shirt, a white V-neck, and cream-colored cargo pants. She had what looked like a Winchester pointed at him.

“You don’t look like a doctor.”

“And you don’t look like a criminal so I guess we’re both wrong.”

He smiled. Keeping his hands raised, he turned.

“Easy,” she said.

“Look, I’m going to place my gun in the holster, okay?”

“Do it slowly. You try anything, I will shoot.”

He snorted, easing his hand back and inserting it. As soon as it was in, he pointed across the street. “Could you please come and take a look at him?”

She stared as if weighing the risk.

“Please. He’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t want him to die.”

Her eyes drifted then she replied, “What’s the injury?”

“His forearm was hacked off. I cauterized it as best as I could but…”

Before he could finish, she bellowed, “Tina, Matthew, come on up here.”

Two teenagers appeared, the girl was maybe sixteen, blonde, petite; the boy was older, nineteen at a rough guess, muscular. They were both packing guns, a pistol, and an AR-15. “Keep an eye on him while I grab my bag. If he moves. Shoot.”

“I won’t be moving,” Jessie said to put them at ease.

She disappeared back into the storm shelter and the two teens watched him intently.

“So is that your mom?” he asked. They didn’t reply.

A minute, maybe less, and the doc reappeared holding a large black bag with a strap that she’d slung over her shoulder. “Tina, go down and lock the doors. Matt, come with me.” She motioned for Jessie to lead the way while they kept him under the gun.

With his back turned, and feeling vulnerable, he tried to keep the conversation flowing. “My name’s Jessie, by the way.”

“Chloe Jameson,” she replied. “And this is my son.”

No further words were exchanged as they approached. Chloe stopped at the door for a moment to look at the damage before entering. “Watch my back, Matt.” The kid looked unafraid, confident like he wouldn’t hesitate to squeeze the trigger. Jessie led her into an office at the back and as soon as he entered, Dylan rose from a seat.

“Jessie? Did you…”

He stopped short seeing Chloe.

“These are my brothers,” Jessie said.

“All of you out,” she said before stepping in. There was a moment of hesitation. Jessie nodded and Dylan and Zeke slid by her. Chloe entered and Matthew watched over the door while she set her bag down and took a look at the arm. “You say someone attacked him?”

“A guy with a machete.”

As she unzipped her bag and began pulling out different medical items, she continued to ask questions. “You recall what he looked like?”

He gave her a rough description. “Big guy. Six foot three, built like a tank with a handlebar mustache.”

“Ron Whiteman.” She looked at him. “The owner of the hardware store. Is he still alive?”

There was a pause before he answered her. “No.”

She nodded but didn’t explain whether or not this was typical behavior from someone she knew. Chloe spent several minutes checking the wound and tending to it before she wanted to know what his blood type was. Jessie reeled it off like it was his own. She raised her eyebrows. “Well isn’t that something,” she said.

“What?”

“Most don’t know their own let alone their sibling’s.”

“We’re a close family.”

He only knew it because it wasn’t the first time Lincoln had needed blood. He’d been shot by a Strickland four years ago and had come close to losing his life then. While most took their injured to hospital, his parents were in the habit of dealing with matters themselves. Hospitals were a last resort. Hospitals raised questions and brought in police and both were things they avoided. Instead, they had an uncle with medical experience. He wasn’t specialized in anything. It was basic, stuff he’d learned from his time in the army as a medic. She zipped up her bag and turned to walk out.

“Well, aren’t you going to treat him?”

“Of course, but he needs blood, antibiotics. I don’t carry that with me. I need to collect it.”

As she was walking out he followed her. “You have it at your house?”

“No. I only carry the basics. We don’t deal with blood transfusions here. We’ll need to get some blood from the clinic.”

“This isn’t the clinic?”

“The larger one in town.”

They continued walking. She didn’t slow. Jessie fell in step.

“It’s still functioning?”

“For now.”

She pressed ahead, saying little more.

“You think he’ll survive, doc?” Jessie asked as he followed her back to her house.

“I can’t guarantee you anything but I will try my best. If you want to come with us you ride in the back.” She pointed to a 1979 GMC K25. “Otherwise, stay and I will be back in twenty minutes.”

He hollered at Dylan and Zeke who were outside the clinic. “I’ll be back soon.” He hopped in the rear. Chloe fired up the truck. Her son rode in the passenger side, though he kept his handgun on him through the rear window at all times to ensure their safety.

Chapter Two

Humboldt County, California

Garberville Cemetery was hidden away in the west end of Locust Street.