Sorry for the carnage

It was a stormy night when Jack found himself on the porch of a farmhouse, asking for shelter for the night. He was on the run from some men he had a disagreement with, the disagreement being of the sort whether or not Jack should keep on living after today.

After a while of knocking on the door it was finally opened by an older man.
“Evening. Sorry to disturb you but my car broke down a few miles back and it’ll take at least until morning before the tow-service comes to pick it up. Could I trouble you for a roof over my head. A barn or something is just fine if you could spare a blanket as well.”

“Sure, son. We were just about to sit down for dinner, would you like some.”

Jack’s stomach answered for him, it was roaring so loud. “I guess I would. Thanks so much.”

They ate dinner peacefully after which the old man gave Jack a couple of blankets and a pillow after which he walked to the barn. He set up some precautions, a wind chime that rang if the door was opened and some other nonlethal booby traps. He needed to make sure the people that lived here did not accidentally get caught in them, but if someone came in to the barn, he needed to know about it the minute they stepped in.

The night had rolled into the wee hours of the morning before anything happened. Jack woke up to the faint tinkling of the wind chimes and immediately rolled over to his hands and knees with a gun in his hands. From his elevated position in the rafters he could see that his fear had come to pass; the bastards had found him here. There was nowhere he could run right now. He would have to kill them. There were two men below and undoubtedly more to come.

He shot the farthest of the in the head and as he fell the other lost his focus for just the fraction of a second which was all the time Jack needed to take his aim and shoot him.

Jack slid down the ladder from the rafters and proceeded to the door of the barn constantly expecting someone to come through the door. No one did but when he got to the door he could see the black clad people moving around the farmyard.

Jack turned away from the door frame to avoid being seen and to give himself a moment to think. He had just seen at least five more targets outside. There was no chance in hell he could take them all out at once. He had to assume there would be some others around as well. The only way to get out of this was to do it quietly. He got back up on the rafters, got out his knife, grabbed his back bag and slid back down the ladder.

Someone was walking right next to the back wall. Jack could just hear his clothes scratch against the rough wood. He waited until the guy on the other side hit a knot point and shot him twice through the hole in the wall. He was dead before he had a chance to make a sound.

Jack was good at this, it was what the organization these men were working for used to pay him for. He stepped out of the barn and saw the two figures advancing in unison framed by the approaching sunrise. Staying low in the shadow of the abandoned farm equipment he shot the closest one in the head. The other one was ready for him and dropped to the ground before Jack had a chance to take aim. Jack heard him whisper frantically into his headpiece, telling the others his location.

Before Jack had a chance to get to the figure huddled low on the ground, another came around the corner of the barn closest to him. Jack didn’t have the moment’s aim to take a headshot so instead he doubletapped the other man somewhere in the torso. He’d come back and finish the guy later. Right now he needed to find another location. He ran over to the guy on the ground, crouched low and took aim with the guy shooting at him. The other one didn’t bother to take aim, he was just hoping he’d get lucky. Jack got lucky first. His uncle had always told him to make his own luck.

Jack got down on the ground right next to the now dead huddled figure, took the comm device off him and started listening. Every man sounds the same when whispering. He wasn’t supposed to have a comm so they wouldn’t be expecting him to answer.

“Target’s still crouched over at the side of the barn, next to an abandoned machine. Come at him from the south, you’ll be covered by the machine” he whispered urgently into the comm.
“Coming at him from the south. You shoot him if he makes a move to the north, Hightower.”

The remaining two black clad men were easy targets after that. Jack just waited ’till the first one got to the farm machine he was supposed to be crouching under. A headshot and doubletap later the two remaining men were down. Jack did a sweep of the area and found no one else. Jack hadn’t dared to hope that they were just guessing at his wereabouts. He went to check on the one he wasn’t sure he’d killed and saw his blood gleaming in the rising sun. It looked like he’d bled out.

“What in the Lord’s name happened here?” The old man who owned the farm shouted as he stepped onto the porch of his house, coffeecup in hand, coming to wake up Jack.

“They were some bad men who I thought wouldn’t be able to find me. You should call the police and tell them everything you know so you won’t get blamed for this. Tell them I ran. It’s a good idea to tell them all the specifics. Thanks for the food and the shelter. And sorry for the carnage.”

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