Broken Lives: A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World (Broken Lines Book 4) Read Free Page B
Author: James Hunt
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wasn’t sure why he still had them. Whatever God he prayed to stopped listening.
He shoved the beads back into his pocket and paced the room. He was always restless. He hadn’t slept or eaten anything in days; that need had vanished. The only thing he wanted to do now was waste away. He wanted to drift off as his children did every night, but he never wanted to wake up.
Those terrifying moments when he did drift off to sleep, he would be holding his wife’s lifeless body in his hands, begging for her to come back.
There was no escaping what happened. It haunted him while he dreamed, and it tortured him while he was awake.
Jung bent down slowly, picking up a nearly empty bottle of liquor. That was the one thing he couldn’t get enough of. Whatever he could do to numb himself he indulged in.
He did have some pills he managed to steal from the pharmacy, but Fay found them and tossed them down the drain. She’d come by every day to check on him and the kids.
The thought of someone else taking care of his children used to be such a ludicrous idea, but now he was glad someone was there to make sure his children were safe, although he wasn’t sure how much longer that was going to last.
He knew that Mike and the rest of the group were planning to head to Cincinnati soon. A week ago he would have been going with them, but not now.
Jung thought back to their first meeting at the airport. He remembered the talks the two of them had about family, and keeping faith.
Mike didn’t have to help him, but he did. Mike opened up his home, his supplies, and his protection to Jung’s family and he repaid Mike by spitting in his face.
The need to protect his own family blinded him to everything else. The moment he tied Mike’s family up at gunpoint, along with the rest of the group, leaving them to die at the hands of the bikers, was the point of no return.
There wasn’t a doubt in Jung’s mind that Mike wanted to kill him. He wasn’t sure what was stopping him, but he wished Mike would come and finish the job. Maybe that was his punishment though, a fate worse than death: to live with the guilt and shame of losing his faith.
The sound of the Jeep’s engine outside snapped him out of the stupor. He kept the bottle of liquor in his hand as he walked to the window. He pulled back the curtain slightly and peeked down into the motel’s parking lot. He could see Sam, Nelson, and Kalen by the bikes. Fay and Mike were talking by the Jeep.
If the Jeep was working they’d be leaving any day now. He drew the curtain back and set the liquor bottle on the carpet.
***
The grave marker rose from the earth like a lump, nestled between two trees. The branches provided good shade. Billy and his family decided to lay Ken to rest here, next to his hunting spot, where he started his day every morning.
Billy had visited the grave every day since his father was buried. He never set out to start his morning hunts here, but each time he began walking into the forest his feet led him there with a mind of their own.
His mother and younger brother still hadn’t forgiven him for what he did. Every time he tried to explain himself he would be greeted with the same disgusted look. He just stopped trying after a few days.
He couldn’t force them to listen to him. Deep down he knew they knew what kind of man his father was. If Billy hadn’t done something to stop him, more people would have been hurt.
The sound of a gunshot would wake him each night. It was never real, but he couldn’t stop the dreams from coming. Each time he closed his eyes, and laid his head to rest, he would see the bullet he fired from his own gun flying through his father’s chest.
The dreams never ended with his father dying though. Screams of betrayal and hate flew from the mouths of his mother and brother. Then he would wake up with a cold sweat covering his body,
He shoved the beads back into his pocket and paced the room. He was always restless. He hadn’t slept or eaten anything in days; that need had vanished. The only thing he wanted to do now was waste away. He wanted to drift off as his children did every night, but he never wanted to wake up.
Those terrifying moments when he did drift off to sleep, he would be holding his wife’s lifeless body in his hands, begging for her to come back.
There was no escaping what happened. It haunted him while he dreamed, and it tortured him while he was awake.
Jung bent down slowly, picking up a nearly empty bottle of liquor. That was the one thing he couldn’t get enough of. Whatever he could do to numb himself he indulged in.
He did have some pills he managed to steal from the pharmacy, but Fay found them and tossed them down the drain. She’d come by every day to check on him and the kids.
The thought of someone else taking care of his children used to be such a ludicrous idea, but now he was glad someone was there to make sure his children were safe, although he wasn’t sure how much longer that was going to last.
He knew that Mike and the rest of the group were planning to head to Cincinnati soon. A week ago he would have been going with them, but not now.
Jung thought back to their first meeting at the airport. He remembered the talks the two of them had about family, and keeping faith.
Mike didn’t have to help him, but he did. Mike opened up his home, his supplies, and his protection to Jung’s family and he repaid Mike by spitting in his face.
The need to protect his own family blinded him to everything else. The moment he tied Mike’s family up at gunpoint, along with the rest of the group, leaving them to die at the hands of the bikers, was the point of no return.
There wasn’t a doubt in Jung’s mind that Mike wanted to kill him. He wasn’t sure what was stopping him, but he wished Mike would come and finish the job. Maybe that was his punishment though, a fate worse than death: to live with the guilt and shame of losing his faith.
The sound of the Jeep’s engine outside snapped him out of the stupor. He kept the bottle of liquor in his hand as he walked to the window. He pulled back the curtain slightly and peeked down into the motel’s parking lot. He could see Sam, Nelson, and Kalen by the bikes. Fay and Mike were talking by the Jeep.
If the Jeep was working they’d be leaving any day now. He drew the curtain back and set the liquor bottle on the carpet.
***
The grave marker rose from the earth like a lump, nestled between two trees. The branches provided good shade. Billy and his family decided to lay Ken to rest here, next to his hunting spot, where he started his day every morning.
Billy had visited the grave every day since his father was buried. He never set out to start his morning hunts here, but each time he began walking into the forest his feet led him there with a mind of their own.
His mother and younger brother still hadn’t forgiven him for what he did. Every time he tried to explain himself he would be greeted with the same disgusted look. He just stopped trying after a few days.
He couldn’t force them to listen to him. Deep down he knew they knew what kind of man his father was. If Billy hadn’t done something to stop him, more people would have been hurt.
The sound of a gunshot would wake him each night. It was never real, but he couldn’t stop the dreams from coming. Each time he closed his eyes, and laid his head to rest, he would see the bullet he fired from his own gun flying through his father’s chest.
The dreams never ended with his father dying though. Screams of betrayal and hate flew from the mouths of his mother and brother. Then he would wake up with a cold sweat covering his body,
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