by Hunt, Jack
“Agreed. More of the same.”
“Exactly. How is Miriam?”
Martha gave her a fierce stare. “She’ll survive. Just as us Rikers have for generations.”
Ruth gave a nod. Hank stepped forward. “How do you propose a truce?”
“I already have. Offering up one of ours.”
“One for three?” Hank snorted. “Not much of a truce.”
“If numbers are what you wish to argue, let’s discuss how many of your boys raped my youngest daughter, shall we?” Martha said, raising her voice.
“She wasn’t raped,” Seth said, stepping down, jabbing an angry finger at her. “We never touched…” The words left his mouth without thinking.
“Shut up, Seth,” Hank barked.
It was too late, he’d already spoken. He’d already revealed his involvement. Martha’s hand went into her pocket, and several of them were ready with fingers on triggers. Slowly she retrieved a voice recorder and tossed it to Hank. He caught it. At first, he thought she was recording Seth’s confession; she wasn’t.
“Listen to it. It’s a copy. That’s your proof regarding Alby. From here on out, as long as none of you come near my family, or attempt to stir up trouble, we will avoid further bloodshed. But be aware. Mark my words. If you venture in our hills, touch even one hair on the head of a Riker. All bets are off and my kin will wipe every single one of you out until there is no memory of the Stricklands in this county.”
Hank scoffed. “Big words from a lady that has one foot in the grave.”
“Your decision. I’ve done my part.”
With that, she turned the horse and rode out without looking back. Watching her ride out infuriated him. The nerve of the woman. And yet it puzzled him. He thought Dan had figured out who was behind the death of his boys, he didn’t think one of their own had handed him over.
This was new.
Uncharted territory. What game was she playing?
Hank could have shot her in the back and been done with it but he knew that would only fulfill what Bruce had said about bringing hell down from the mountain. He’d already felt the flames. Some days he wondered if the only thing that stood between him and death was Martha Riker.
SEVENTEEN
Captain Benjamin Evans
Trinity County
He extracted the knife from the back of the man’s neck and let him sink to the floor as if he had no bones in his legs. Captain Benjamin Evans gave his militia members the thumbs-up to begin clearing out another home in the community of Salyer. It was the first of many in Trinity County they would pillage for supplies. Small, insignificant, unincorporated communities along the infamous Route 299 were perfect.
It would give them everything they needed to gain a foothold in Humboldt County.
“I hope this is worth it, Ben,” Elijah said.
“Trust me, old friend, I’ve waited for this day for a long time. If we work outside the county, demonstrate our worth, we will be embraced by the people. We don’t need the sheriff’s approval, the people will give it to us. Gain their hearts and minds, and mutiny is as easy as taking candy from a baby.”
“I hope so. Eventually, they’ll find out.”
He reached into a fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer, and cracked off the top using the counter. “Elijah, by the time they hear reports of towns falling, they will assume it’s desperate refugees from larger cities, petty criminals, or gangs. Heck, they might even think it’s locals. Either way, it will only bolster their need for us.”
“And the police?”
“How long do you think they will last? This event is here to stay, my friend. You heard the radio. FEMA is far from here. The National Guard is too busy dealing with big cities to worry about these small-town folk. No, this is our opportunity. Play our cards right and we won’t just see people joining us, they will worship us.” Benjamin took a swig of beer. “I’ve always fancied myself as a deity. What about you?”
Elijah laughed. “Well, I do have a religious name. So I guess I’m already halfway there.” They both chuckled as they assisted the others in carting out whatever supplies they could find. Soon, they would bring their gift to the altar and lay everything they had before the people’s feet. It was all about timing.
Benjamin allowed his mind to wander, thinking back to days earlier.
As desperation began to set in, and people voiced their concerns, he’d heard Dan stumbling over his words. That’s how they’d picked Humboldt. A few days earlier he’d slipped unnoticed into a city hall meeting, sunk in a chair at the back, and listened, watched, and looked for the telltale signs.
Disgruntled locals. Dwindling supplies. Half-hearted leadership.
That was how he was able to decide which county to target.
Opportunity was there, ripe for the picking.
And they were about to deliver.
The perfect part about where they were now was most of the residents they approached in Trinity couldn’t tell whether they were militia or National Guard until they were under the glow of lights, and by then it was too late.
A knock at the door. A simple introduction — we’re assisting the evacuation of locals. A vetting question — how many will need a ride? And with that, they could discern how many they would need to kill. Kids were the hardest — collateral damage — but they couldn’t leave anyone behind to identify them. That’s why they approached at night and focused on a county outside of the one they’d planned on convincing.
And convince they would.
Every single resident would see them as saviors. A strong defense against the criminal underbelly, a provider for the weak, and a shepherd to the lost. That’s exactly what they would be. It wouldn’t take long for the people to trust them and when they did, those in leadership would have to step down.
They wouldn’t make the mistakes others had.
Too many militia groups pandered to the whims of the people. They wouldn’t. Too many would try to force their way in. They wouldn’t. That approach only led to bloodshed and people under the rule of a dictator. That never lasted. No. He’d spent years thinking about how this would play out, and so far it was going to plan.
“Captain. Captain! We got a runner.”
Had they overlooked something? Had the homeowner forgotten someone? Several of his men fanned out, running, searching the woods near Trinity River.
“He exited the back window.”
“How old?”
“Looked like a young boy to me. Maybe two of them.”
“Shit.”
Flashlight beams bounced against the trees as they moved through the woods, searching for any sign. A blur of movement off to his right, and they all chased the urchin like wolves pursuing prey. “Go around. Cut him off.”
He heard the kid sobbing as he fled. It was unfortunate but necessary. It didn’t take long to catch him on the banks of the river. Scared. Trapped. He had nowhere to go. Still, he attempted to wade out. Dawson bulldozed into the river and scooped up the wriggling mass, returning and dumping his body before him.
Benjamin placed a heavy boot on the kid’s chest so he couldn’t move.
He was no older than ten at a guess.
“Please. Please.” Tears streamed his face or was that water?
There could be no mercy in their line of business. Cut a man loose, and he could become their downfall, and he had every intention of sticking around. This boy wasn’t the first to die, and he wouldn’t be the last.
“Captain.” Elijah came up behind him.
“What is it?
“We found a girl. Says she’s his sister. They were hiding.”
A moment later, she was brought forward through the group and dropped on her knees. She begged, pleading for their lives. It was pitiful. “Please, we won’t say anything.”
“No. No, you won’t.”
He wasn’t in the habit of making his guys do the dirty work. He would handle it. He was the spearhead of this unit, and to remain tha
t way, he had to be the one to do it. Benjamin took out his handgun and told the kids to close their eyes. He reassured them it wouldn’t hurt. That it would all be over in an instant, and they would be in paradise. The brat refused to do as commanded. She thought staring at him would change his mind. It wouldn’t. He squeezed the trigger, killing her first before turning the gun and ending the kid’s cries.
Silence settled.
So many of them had seen war overseas, they’d witnessed atrocities against children enough that it shouldn’t have fazed them, but one glance at his men and he knew it had. “If any of you have doubts. Now’s the time to share.”
No one said a word as they walked away, leaving two small bodies near the water’s edge.
EIGHTEEN
Colby
Merced County
The auto repair and wreckers’ yard was a maze of towering metal.
Huge piles of cars, trucks, and RVs, each one stacked up on top of another, dwarfed the office building nearby. Conducting reconnaissance from afar, he noticed a mass of small trees surrounded the property to the north, west, and east. There was no movement in the yard. No sign that anyone was there. Had Callie gotten it wrong?
He was across a tilled field to the south, perched on an abandoned farmhouse roof, peering through binoculars. Colby lowered them and slid down the roof, and dropped to the ground. The horse was tied to a tree, hidden from the view of anyone who might make their way up the extra-long driveway.
Colby collected the duffel bag, unzipped it, and loaded the AR-15. He removed his jacket and slipped into a ballistic vest. He would be sporting two loaded .40 S&W handguns in a double shoulder holster and carrying the rifle. He loaded up with additional magazines and swept the rifle behind his back.
Ready to head out, he patted the horse. “I’ll be back.”
Trudging across the field, he thought about what Callie had said. “Her name was Alicia. You were traveling together.”
He wanted so badly to remember who Alicia was but it was like a murky dream. Like seeing a face but forgetting the name. This time it was the other way around. His memory was there at the tip of his tongue, frustrating him.
When he made it to the outskirts of the wreckers’ yard he took out a pair of wire cutters he’d taken from the house and clipped the chain-link fence so he could slip inside.
It was quiet. Not a sound could be heard. No conversation. No music. No movement.
Like a grocery store, the junkyard had aisles, but these were full of vehicles. The ground was rough. Mud, stone, a few shrubs. He made his way down an aisle, glancing sideways at the various models and makes. All of it, a piece of history, discarded like society would soon be.
As he came around to the next aisle that would take him down to the main office, two huge Rottweilers lifted their heads in his direction.
Colby froze.
From where he was, he couldn’t see if they were attached to the chains snaking away. A second to register he wasn’t meant to be there, and they bounced up, and that’s when he saw nothing was restraining them. They burst forward, all teeth and gums. Colby turned and fled.
There was no way he could outrun them.
No way he could reach the chain-link fence.
Colby slipped the rifle behind him and darted sideways, climbing up the side of a skyscraper of metal. It groaned and shifted beneath his feet. He had visions of it collapsing, crushing, and burying him. The lead dog launched itself in the air, determined to grab one of his legs, but it missed by inches. He slipped into the rear seat of a Camaro, out of breath, his heart roaring like a truck engine.
As his body lay against leather, he was hit with another flash of images.
Kane. That dog again. It was deeply ingrained in his mind. He was no ordinary pet. In his mind, he saw Kane chewing on someone’s leg. He heard cries. He heard himself giving the command to release. Then a dog wagging its tail.
“Fire. Brimstone,” a voice bellowed, calling out to the dogs from the far end of the property. A whistle followed. “Hey boys. What have you two got? Better not be another skunk. Hey!” Another whistle. “I will beat the living daylights out of you if you don’t get back here now. Don’t make me come down there.” The two dogs barked a few more times, then whined and hurried back. Colby remained still. He was high enough that if someone did come down they would have to climb up to see him.
Shit, he thought. This was going to be harder than he thought.
He waited a few minutes before carefully climbing out the other side and continuing to scale the outside to the top. The vehicles were piled five high, some overlapping each other. The only order on the property came from the aisles. The rest was a mess of steel and glass. The smell of oil, grease, and rust permeated everything, and the gunk got on his hands and clothes as he crept along the top. He tried to be as quiet as possible while making his way to the end that brought him close to the office.
He might have been able to pull the wool over the owner’s eyes but not the dogs’. They could smell him. The two began barking again. One of them put his front paws up on a bumper, clawing at it.
“What the hell is going on out there!”
Matthew, the same guy Colby had seen at the house, came out of the office. He was clothed in dirty blue overalls and holding a wrench in his hand. Colby was pointing his rifle down at him as he staggered out, bellowing at the dogs. He looked at the one and followed its gaze. His head lifted until they locked eyes. “Get the dogs on a leash now,” Colby shouted. “And don’t even think of darting back inside. I’ve got a round with your name on it.” Matthew dropped the wrench, his eyes widening.
“All right. All right. Don’t shoot.” He lifted his hands, slowly shifting sideways, heading over to the chains. “Fire. Brimstone. Get over here.” He let out a whistle and just like that they trotted over. He connected their chains, and Colby didn’t move until he saw the dogs were definitely on them.
“Get on your knees, hands locked behind your head.”
Matthew did as he was instructed.
“Who else is here?” Colby wasn’t moving until he knew.
“Just me.”
“Your wife?”
“She’s out.”
Colby slung his rifle over his shoulder, and while keeping a close eye on him, he began to descend. It didn’t take long. When his boots hit the ground, the dogs burst forward only to be yanked back again. He smirked. Little bastards.
“Mister. You are making a huge mistake.”
“Am I? Where is she?”
“I just told you. She’s out.”
“No. The woman with the dog. Alicia.”
He stared back and swallowed.
“WHERE IS SHE!” he shouted.
When he wouldn’t answer, Colby grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him to his feet, shoving him into the office. The dogs barked like crazy. He closed the door behind him to mute the noise and pushed him into a grubby seat. The room was a mess. Metal filing cabinets against the wall. A calendar of a blonde exposing her breasts on the wall. A whiteboard with dry marker squiggles all over it. Several tables were covered with paperwork, phones, old computers, and coffee cups. “I want answers. I want them now. No more bullshit. Where is Alicia?”
“She’s gone.”
“That better not be what I think.”
He frowned. “I never touched her. She escaped last night.”
“And the dog?”
“Went with her.”
Colby chuckled. “So what happened?”
“When she left?”
“When I arrived.”
“I told you.”
“Yeah, and you told me that girl back at the house was your granddaughter. She wasn’t! So how about you cut the shit and start telling me the truth.” He removed a handgun and placed it against the front of his skull.
Matthew squeezed his eyes tight. “I’m telling the truth. Okay, I lied about her, but if I hadn’t, Bill would have killed us. She was his property
.”
“Property?” He pistol-whipped him. “You piece of garbage.”
Matthew spit blood and tried to sit up straight.
Colby swept the crap off the table. Oily paperwork and two cups full of moldy coffee went across the room. It all crashed on the steel floor, causing the dogs outside to bark. He took a seat across from Matthew. “So you work for Bill?”
“It’s either that or starve. He made that clear. As long as we help we don’t go hungry.”
“Bullshit. You could have left with the National Guard when they evacuated everyone to Los Banos. You could have gone to another town.”
“We could have, but do you think they have it any better there? All those people vying for food? Rationing. Living hand to mouth. Forget that. At least here we don’t have to deal with big brother.”
“Oh but you do. You’re his bitch. Look, I don’t give a shit whose dick you choose to suck or why you do it. That’s your business. All I care about is finding this woman and my dog.”
His eyebrow rose. “That’s your dog?”
“That’s right.”
“Smart animal. How long were you a K9 handler?”
He tilted his head. “What?”
“Alicia said you were a cop in L.A. turned bounty hunter.”
Right then, it was like someone downloaded a wealth of information into his head, and his brain started making connections. The memories flooded back in. His career. The dog. Being a K9 handler. Working for Sure-fire Bail Bonds. Chasing after her. Being pursued through L.A. by Russians.
“You okay, mister?” Matthew asked, noting how spaced-out he appeared. “You look like you could use a drink. There’s a bottle of water over there.”
Blinking hard, his head thumped, causing his vision to blur. “Stay where you are.” Colby blinked again, and the world around snapped into view. “Just tell me where…”
Before he could get the words out, a round speared the window, and glass went everywhere. Matthew lunged forward, both of them flying back over the table onto the floor. On top, he held on to Colby’s wrist.
