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“I’ll need all of you,” Gabe said.
“Looks like we’re heading to Scrantonville,” Jaxon said, and Alana smiled.
Chapter 8
Gabe was a nervous wreck as they all drove out early Sunday morning to Scrantonville. Alana called into work to say she wouldn’t be there for a few days. Jaxon had suggested that they call Gabe’s parents and let them know he was coming. Alana had informed them that Gabe’s grandparents were still alive and elderly, and the shock could upset them if they just showed up at the front door.
But he was still freaking out, worrying that everyone would hate him, see him as a failure and an invalid, and he started to have second thoughts.
But as they rolled into town, Alana holding his hand, texting to someone then smiling at him reassuringly, and his brothers surrounding him, he couldn’t believe the sight.
A large banner hung from one side of the entrance gates to town to the other, saying, “Welcome Home, Gabe—Scrantonville’s Own Hero.”
Jaxon pulled the truck into the one open spot left for them, and the music and cheering grew louder.
The local high school band was there, playing the second the truck pulled up, and all he could see was the sea of people cheering, holding up signs.
They all got out of the truck. He walked with his cane, Alana and his brothers by his sides as his eyes filled with tears.
He turned to look at Alana, feeling overwhelmed and at a loss.
“Did you plan this? Did you put them up to this?” he asked in disbelief. An expression of insult and shock crossed her face before tears filled her eyes. She shook her head.
“You see, Gabe? You are a hero, and everyone in Scrantonville knows it. You’ve touched people’s lives, and when that happens, it’s special, just like you.”
He shook his head as his eyes welled up with tears. He hugged her, and then he heard his mother’s voice.
Marcy and Michael ran forward and stopped in front of him. His mother was hysterically crying, her hand over her mouth, staring at him in disbelief. His father had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, and he, too, had tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Gabe,” his father said.
“Don’t cry, Mom. I’m here, and I’m alive.”
They hugged him tight as they cried about miracles and having their son return home to them safe and sound.
This was the second best day of his life. The first one was when Alana had shown up in Tranquility and forced him to realize she still loved him and that he wasn’t a failure in her eyes. The second was this moment. To feel his mother’s hug and the healing it provided him just like when he was a child and got hurt. All the pain and fear disappeared. It was magical. He was a grown man with so many misconceptions and fears holding him back. He could have lost the opportunity to feel the power of his mother’s and father’s embrace, as well as the love and embrace of the people in the community he grew up in. He owed it all to Alana, the love of his life, his heart and his soul, his everything.
* * * *
Neil stood in the woods and hid within the trees. He peered through the binoculars and watched the house for several hours. No movement and no sign of Alana. She hadn’t been at work the last several days, and he needed to see her. His quick fix turned out to be more than he had anticipated, and when he’d killed her, he had left a trail of blood behind him.
Her roommate arrived home after all, and she wasn’t alone.
He had barely gotten his clothes on. He was certain he’d forgotten something and had left something behind. He had to make his move. He needed to grab Alana and take her away someplace they could be alone. He was going to keep her forever.
He knew his truck was stocked with everything he needed. Guns, food, ammunition, clothes, and even things for Alana to wear. Although he loved her in skirts and in all her classy dresses, it didn’t make sense for her to wear such things where they were going. He leaned against the tree and wondered where she could be. He tried to fight the thought that she was with them. Four assholes and one invalid. The fucking soldiers were weak and useless. He was the real deal. He’d killed so many fucking people that the government discharged him. He’d been making progress and kicking ass like a Marine should do. Those damn pussies in the government wanted to sit behind a desk all cushy and comfy while soldiers died left and right for bureaucratic bullshit. Not him. He wasn’t going to die in the middle of some fucking desert within some godforsaken village of terrorist assholes and their families. He’d done what he had to do, and the government, his own leaders, found fault in that.
Fuck them, and fuck those five pussies who are trying to take my woman away from me.
He pointed his rifle at the house and used the sight to clearly mark the back doorway.
“If one of you fuckheads are standing there, and in the way of me getting my woman, I’m going to blow your fucking head off.”
He pretended to pull the trigger and pretended to make the sound of a shot.
He chuckled and lowered his weapon. “I’ve always been a patient man, and I always take a direct order and follow that order until the mission is complete.”
He looked to his side.
