Hands on his head, Marcus marched out of the house and past the body of Allen Brubaker, the man whom he had failed. It had cost Allen and his family so much by helping him. His mind ached and throbbed with an overwhelming sense of guilt and despair. He had done more than fail to protect them. He had been the source of their hardship. They needed someone to protect them from me, not the other way around.
A deputy told him to stop in front of one of the cruisers. He could still smell the burnt odor of his distraction, but the fire hadn’t continued to burn in the way that he had hoped. The vehicle pointed toward the Brubakers’ old barn, and its headlights bathed him in an eerie, artificial glow.
The Sheriff held Charlie close and kept a cautious distance between Marcus and himself. “Get down on your knees, put your hands behind your back, and put these on.” The Sheriff tossed him a pair of handcuffs.
He felt helpless. He wanted to storm the Sheriff and his men and end the conflict one way or the other. If he hadn’t had more lives to think of than his own, he might have done just that. The situation being what it was, however, he could see no alternative other than to comply with whatever he was told. With his arms behind his back, he placed the cuffs around his wrists and got down on his knees.
After he complied, the Sheriff moved in front of the cruiser. With a hard kick to the legs, he brought Charlie to his knees as well. Charlie stared at the ground, diverting his eyes away from Marcus.
He didn’t blame the boy for any of this, but he knew that Charlie blamed himself. He hoped that they lived long enough for him to tell Charlie that it wasn’t his fault. The only comfort he could find was that they had distracted the officers long enough for the women to escape.
But his heart sank when he saw a deputy lead two people around the corner of the house. The women hadn’t gotten away. They had been captured. It was the final crushing blow to any feelings of hope that he still harbored.
His failure was complete.
He knew that he shouldn’t blame himself. The Sheriff was the bad guy. He was the one who had killed Allen. It was the truth, but it didn’t make Marcus feel any less guilty.
Loren and her daughter walked in front of an officer that he didn’t recognize. He wondered how he could have missed a sentry in the backyard, and why the man hadn’t opened fire and driven them back to the house the moment they stepped out. The officer brought the women to their knees beside Charlie.
Loren looked over at him. She looked haggard and beaten. “He was lying in the back seat of the car. We didn’t have a chance. The Sheriff’s thought of everything.”
The Sheriff broke into their conversation and said, “Finally, someone with some sense. You’re right, Loren. I have thought of nearly everything, but I didn’t plan on our friend Marcus here. I never intended for any of you to get involved, but sometimes you just have to play the hand you’re dealt. Unfortunately, Marcus, your little stunt in the shed allowed Ackerman to escape, and he was very important to our plans. Not to worry, though. I did a little checking on you, and I think that you may serve our purposes even better than Ackerman.”
“Go to hell. I don’t know what insanity you’ve got cooked up, but I won’t be any part of it. You might as well just kill me now.”
“Oh, all in due time, my friend. Besides, I don’t need your cooperation or your permission. You’ll play the part I’ve assigned to you, whether you like it or not. But I’m afraid I don’t need any extra cast members, so these three are going to be cut from the production.”
Loren’s eyes widened with fear. She locked her gaze on his. Her eyes begged for help, but he was powerless to do anything. Besides, the Sheriff may have been warped and misguided, but he wasn’t evil. Marcus couldn’t imagine him actually murdering a defenseless mother and her children. Then again, the Sheriff had a cause of some kind, and throughout history, good men had committed the most unspeakable atrocities imaginable in the name of a cause.
“I guess we’ll never know why you snapped and went on this killing spree, Marcus. First, Maureen. Now, the Brubakers. And tomorrow … who knows. Honestly, I wish you had never involved them in any of this. But what’s done is done, and the task laid out before me is too important to jeopardize.”
Tears formed in the Sheriff’s eyes, and his voice cracked as he said, “I’m so sorry, but I have my orders.”
The Sheriff shook his head in disgust, drew in a deep mouthful of air, and exhaled slowly. Then, he shot all three of the remaining Brubakers dead. Their lifeless bodies fell to the ground in grim succession.
His brain had barely registered the atrocity when Marcus found himself screaming and running at the Sheriff. He made it two steps before a hard blow from a nightstick into the common peroneal nerve at the back of his leg collapsed him to his knees. More blows followed the first and left him face down in the dirt. He looked up to see the face of Lewis Foster, enjoying his work.
“That’s enough,” the Sheriff said, though the voice seemed distant to Marcus.
He looked across at the lifeless bodies of the three Brubakers.
“I wish to God that their deaths weren’t necessary, Marcus. But we’re fighting a war here, and every war has casualties. Every war has collateral damage, and I’m afraid that they got caught in the crossfire. Evil is at the doorstep every day, and if good men like myself don’t stand up to it, then countless innocents like them are going to continue to die for no reason. It’s a quiet war, but it is perhaps the most important battle that anyone has ever fought. It’s not a war against some foreign power beyond our borders and a world away. We’re fighting against the darkness inside ourselves. We’re fighting against injustice and corruption. We stand for everything that this country was founded upon, but we conveniently forget whenever it suits our needs.”
The Sheriff circled Marcus as he spoke. “The fact of the matter is that we’re fighting a losing battle. Evil, corruption, and injustice are winning because we refuse to fight them on their terms. Men like Ackerman are only the tip of the iceberg. There are others who are much more subtle, but a hundred times more dangerous.”
The Sheriff reached down and pulled Marcus back to his knees. The older man leaned in close. “Events have already been set in motion that will protect the citizens of this nation from a threat far greater than any serial killer. I don’t expect you to understand, but I cannot allow anything to jeopardize the events that will take place tomorrow. It’s bigger than them.” The Sheriff motioned at the three corpses. “It’s bigger than you. It’s bigger than me. It’s bigger than any one person. Sometimes, men like me have to make the tough choices and sacrifice the few for the good of the many. I know that doesn’t make it any easier to accept, but it is an inevitable fact of life and someone has to do it.”
He looked up at the Sheriff, cocked his head to the side, and cracked his neck. “Shut up and do whatever it is you’re going to do to me. You’re every bit as bad as Ackerman, maybe even worse. At least he doesn’t think that he’s a big hero for killing innocent people.”
The Sheriff nodded. “Like I said, I don’t expect you to understand.” He turned to Foster. “Our guest looks tired, Lewis. Will you please put him to bed for me?”
Foster smiled down at him with a huge grin. “It would be my pleasure.”
Marcus saw the nightstick descending toward his head before the darkness took him once again.