The father had that look, one that Wade recognized. The man was thinking dangerous thoughts. He was on that threshold of walking forward, taking that one step. Wade heard the sound of multiple clicks, and knew that his men saw it, too. They were getting antsy, worried about what the man might try. They were letting him know that firearms were now aimed on him and prepared to fire. This was a train wreck getting ready to jump the rails and Wade knew there was little he could do.
“Sir, back away! Step away from the barricade!” one of the soldiers was yelling at him. Wade couldn’t tell who was calling out, but he approved of the commanding tone that was firm, but also held a note of concern.
“What the hell is going on here?” the man called back, leaning forward.
So far, they had been lucky. There had been no shots fired and no one had tried to cross. So far, things were not escalating. However, he knew things were going to get bad soon. The later in the day they went, this powder keg would eventually blow. Thanks to the officers above him, they had ordered him to sit right on top of the fuse, holding a match.
At least he was lucky that no one was coming into town, as well. Of course, that was probably due to another barricade much farther out. There may even be an officer at that one, maybe even regular army, not just the weekend warriors that were all here in the inner circle. Of course, let’s not expend the more valuable troops when there are ones not as well-trained and seasoned that we can use. Let us put the National Guard out there and let them be the ones closest to the blast.
God, how he hoped not. He hoped like hell he was just being cynical.
“Sergeant,” a young voice said, sounding nervous. Wade looked up to see a young PFC, his communications operator, standing just outside the tent. This was the command tent so the young man could just come in, but Wade figured him to be too green to know that, so he was waiting for permission. It wasn’t a surprise the sergeant didn’t recognize him. There were a lot of newer faces that had been with him on active duty when they had gotten the call.
“Come in,” he said in his clipped, commanding tone. The young man entered and came to attention, the sergeant returning the courtesy.
“Yes, soldier?” the sergeant asked.
“We’ve heard from HQ. They’ve set up their outer perimeter another five miles out.”
So they’ve finally officially acknowledged to him where they were. At least that was a start. He knew they would be forming an outer perimeter but, so far, they hadn’t allowed him any of that intel.
“Okay. Any word on the reinforcements for the barricades at the inner perimeter?”
“Yes and no, sergeant.” The young man had a pained expression, and as he tried to stay tight in his “rest” stance, he still tried to squirm as much as he could without really moving. The news wasn’t going to be good.
“Reinforcements have arrived; however, the outer perimeter is not letting them through. The reinforcements have been reassigned to positions at the outer barricades.”
So they weren’t going to let anyone else in or out? That wasn’t good. So it probably was a biological problem in the town. Something had happened and they didn’t want to take a chance with exposure. So what the hell had the town been exposed to? How? This was the Midwest. There weren’t any hidden facilities here, or none that he knew. Though the whole point of a hidden facility is so that not everyone knows about it, they typically keep them away from people. There are only farmers, cornfields, and plenty of small towns and people, so there was no way they would endanger it with a top secret military project. Not around there.
So what the hell were they exposed to?
Anthrax? Sure, it was a possibility, but why the hell out here in the middle of nowhere? Unless a terrorist cell was trying to poison the food supply, maybe something with the corn? If so, they hadn’t thought it out too well. Most of the corn around here wasn’t used for food and went into bio fuels.
“Sergeant?” the PFC said, pulling him away from his thoughts.
“That’s all, private,” the sergeant said, turning away.
“Um… Actually, sergeant, there is something else.”
Wade turned back and looked at him, his eyebrows going up as a signal for the man to continue.
“The regional law enforcement from the area that came to help us barricade the back roads is wondering when their relief will come. Some of them are long past the end of their shifts and want to get home. They’re starting to have problems with people trying to get out of the town, and I think they just want to get out of here before it gets worse.”
Worse?! Of course, they did. And now their reinforcements are being stopped at the outer perimeter. Even if he did relieve the police officers that they had called in as temporary aide, the officers had no way out. He would just have to keep them sated and try to keep them hopeful.
“Tell them their reinforcements will be here soon. Another two hours and they will be cleared through the outer barricades to replace them.”
“Two hours?”
“Just tell them.”
Yes, let us lie to them. Better to string them along now rather than having them become part of the problem and try to leave.
“You’re excused. Go and find Marshall. Have him report to me,” he said, excusing the soldier, who quickly scurried off.
“You can’t do this! I have rights!” The sergeant stepped to the open tent flap and could now see the man was yelling at a row of troops. One soldier was in front of all the others, his rifle raised and pressing sideways against the chest of the man, trying to push him back. His men should never have let him get that close.
And, if this was biological, they could all be exposed to it. This wasn’t going to get any better. In fact, he suddenly felt like it was about to get a lot worse.
* * * *
Syn felt the engine between her legs more than she heard it. The padding from her helmet kept a lot of the noise muffled, but it didn’t matter. To her, she just loved to feel the bike beneath her as it roared down the road. It was hers, and speed was her ecstasy. She had lovers, guys from the towns around, but her only true excitement always seemed to come from the thrum of the motorcycle, the “crotch rocket”, as it soared down long stretches of road.
Eighteen hour days, with the occasional day lasting for nearly thirty-six hours, had led to the power she now harnessed between her legs, but every hour of sleep lost was worth it. She had worked two and three jobs, sometimes four, going from one shift to another until she was done. Each day, she inched closer towards having the money. Every dish she washed, ass she kissed, high kick and spin around a pole was worth it. The bike was hers. All she had to do was twist on the throttle and the world fell into oblivion around her.
Was she trying to kill herself? Did she want to speed into a fiery inferno? No, she just wanted the speed, and if death came at her, she was ready for it. She wasn’t afraid. Fuck it, fuck the world and, for god’s sake, fuck this town, she thought.
But, yet, she was still there. She would still be there twenty years from now. If not here, she’d be in another town nearby. Her life was here.
Yeah, sure it was. She had a little crap of an apartment over in the “cardboard city”, where the drugged up assholes had their parties into the wee hours of the night, and the creeps, who were lost in their own hate, lived. She guessed she could be considered one of the latter. She sure as hell had her share of hatred for the town and the dipshits who lived in it.
Still, it was her home, it was her life and, as much as she hated to admit it, it was very much a part of her. She had grown up there. It had been a small town, but her mother had been well-established in the PTA during daylight hours and, in the evening, was just as well-established in the bar scene. Most nights, her parents would be out together, and once Syn had become old enough, at the age of nine, she would go out with them. Her favorite had always been dart nights.
There was August Days, the July Summer Heat festival, the 5K runs, and the bike-a-tho
ns. There were the people that she hated until she wanted to party, then they became her best friends. Most of her high school class still lived there, working in the factory just outside town.
It was a town that was easy to hate, as there seemed to be nothing to do but drink beer and get involved in all the drama, but it was also a town where you could have a lot of fun just hanging out with each other. Sure, when the town got together, there was plenty of beer involved, but they knew how to party.
The new bike, Syn’s pride and joy, sped along the road. She had already rounded onto the main street, and she just wanted to get out of the shithole. She knew she wasn’t going to be getting out for too long. Maybe a hundred miles or so along the interstate, down past Champaign and back, letting the wind blow her hair back from where it fell out from under her helmet. A hundred miles there should only take an hour once she made it to the interstate, then an hour back. Maybe she’d stay there for the night. She had a few friends in a band there. She could see if they were playing, or just hook up with the drummer.
She hadn’t noticed that the streets were quiet. She had seen a patch of pedestrians walking down the street, but there might just be some parade. People were people, though she really had wished they would have blocked off the street if they were having a block party. She didn’t like how close she had come to hitting a couple of them.
Then she was on Main Street. She had thought about going slow just to get out of town, but the thrum of the engine was speaking to her, and it screamed to gun it. She hadn’t seen much traffic. Sure, there were red lights, but she saw a clear shot.
Then that damn car came out of nowhere. That had been the only green light she had. She ran all the damn red lights and didn’t have a single issue, but as she neared the only green light, a damn car starts pulling out from the side street. Un-fucking-believable, she had thought for a second as her reflexes reacted.
She had made it, though. In front of her was just a couple of curves; the bridge with the little road that went down to the dollar store; then another curve, where she knew there was often a speed trap; then open highway. She knew there was often a speed trap because she had gotten speeding tickets there on a monthly basis, though she knew part of why she was always pulled over was because that prick of a cop just wanted her to work her way out of it.
Damn pigs never had anything better to do. It’s not like there wasn’t any drug abuse in the bars on the strip. No, they had to harass drivers like her. Well, today she was going to have a little fun with them. The bike was new, and they wouldn’t know it was her yet. She was going to blow by there and just see if they had the balls to follow her.
Time to see what speed was really like, she thought to herself as she twisted the throttle farther, feeling the heat. Moistness grew between her legs.
“My god. This is better than sex.”
* * * *
Wade was pretty sure that he would have to go over there and talk to the man. He could see his men getting fidgety. He did not want the situation to escalate because once that started, there was no going back. No matter what he did now, there was no right answer. One way or another, he would be the fall guy. Direct order or not, murder of United States citizens was still murder. The question of his orders being lawful was a nasty grey area.
“Yeah, well, don’t follow down that pity party, Pete,” he said to himself. After all, he knew when he took an NCO position, wanting that extra pay and responsibility, he was opening the door for something like this, and it was his own damn fault and decision that put him there. Sure, there were a lot of other people he could blame, but it always came back to himself.
Yeah, I don’t think so. He could try to say the entire thing was his fault, but he wasn’t the dipshit up the chain who threw this together.
Wade took a step towards the barricade and the man who was arguing with the soldiers. Yeah, this may not be his fault, but it could be if he didn’t shut down this trouble now.
“Sergeant!” He turned to see that Marshall was hurrying to him. In the distance, he heard something. It was familiar, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. He could tell that it was coming from town and coming closer.
“Marshall,” he said to the specialist as he came to attention in front of him. “Most of your platoon isn’t here. I’m assuming they are on the outer perimeter. I need you to get a call to someone and see if you can find out what is going on.”
Marshal looked at him, a troubled look in his already young and frightened eyes, but he also had that curious look as his eyebrows were raised. “Sergeant?”
“Do it and report b-”
Wade was cut off. That motor was getting louder. It sounded familiar. He had a Honda at home and knew the whine they made as they were approaching their top speed.
Most of the other troops were now looking, and the family who had been yelling was now getting ignored. The men were looking around at one another. He could see they were getting anxious, and he couldn’t blame them. Wade was already hurrying over when one of the men turned and called out for him.
“Get in positions. Take appropriate action!”
He could see the motorcycle now. It was coming their way and it was coming fast, not showing any indication it was preparing to slow down. The man who had been arguing with the private backed away and stepped behind his own car door, his wife quickly sitting in the car. They didn’t know what was going to happen, but were smart enough to get out of the way.
“Get that car out of here!” Wade yelled. He was done dealing with them, and they needed to leave. The private closest to them raised his M-16 and pointed it at the man. The sergeant, still thirty feet away, could see the eyes go wide on the man’s face. Wade didn’t care who the person at the other end was, but it was intimidating looking down the barrel of a gun that large.
The man slowly eased himself into the car. His hands were up, immediately raised when the rifle was pointed at him. The sergeant couldn’t see the man’s pants, but could see the puddle where he was standing.
He looked back to see the bike getting closer, growing in size from a distant dot to a noticeable shape. It was coming in way too fast. It was already at the point that it was not going to be able to stop. They were going to run the barricade. Damn, he couldn’t let that happen.
“Get into firing positions.”
His men moved out of the direct line of the bike’s path. They were now in a position that would allow them to shoot without being in the path once the shot was fired.
The sergeant knew he had to give the order because the longer he waited, the more there was a chance the bike would hit someone. He had to make the call. They had to put the person on the bike down.
He also knew what it meant. Right now, there was no violence, but once he gave that order, all their fates were sealed. There was no more chance of them just standing down and leaving with only minor inconveniences to the town. Shots would have been fired, and the town would officially be under quarantine with little chance of anyone ever being allowed out.
Something in his gut told him he was in that category, as well. He was one of the many trapped in, and he would be stuck there, too.
He sure as hell hoped it was all worth it.
“Fire!”
He heard the shots ring out, echoing into the afternoon. Birds in nearby trees took flight from the sudden loud burst of noise so close to their peaceful perch.
Wade looked at the bike as the rifles were fired. He watched as the person on the bike sat upright, then fell back. The handlebars of the bike turned sharp left, then suddenly right. The driver, who had been falling back, was launched forward as the front tire caught on the cement, the back of the bike flying up into the air. He knew it didn’t matter because the person was already dead. It was just an empty shell flying towards them.
Then the body landed to the ground with a thump. It didn’t move. The bike skid past it, but the body had taken the blow and just lay on the ground.
The bike st
opped a couple yards short of reaching the back bumper of the family’s car. He heard the woman in the passenger seat gasp and he turned to look at them. If he allowed them to go back into town, they would cause a panic. He couldn’t allow them to stay where they were, and they couldn’t be held prisoners there. He had no place for them.
Damn.
The soldiers who had fired on the motorcycle had gone back to their positions, one going over to the father’s door.
Sergeant Wade felt the wetness at the corner of his eyes. He did not want to do it. He did not want to give his next order. He couldn’t let them just go back into town, but he also couldn’t keep them there. He only had one option, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t give that order.
Then there was movement in the car. The man was reaching across to the passenger side, but his wife already had it in her hand. He knew what it was. The glint of metal was easy to see as the sun reflected on the silver barrel. They had made his decision for him and now he had no choice.
“Fire!” Wade called out, his own voice strong and alien to him. He was proud that it didn’t betray the child crying inside of him.
“Sergeant?” the private asked.
“You heard me.”
Marshall was still behind him, and Wade looked at him. The specialist’s face was pale, his mouth hanging open. When he rifle fire erupted again, the sergeant watched the man flinch and finally look away. They had all seen combat before, but overseas combat was not the same as shooting families on U.S. soil. Sergeant Wade knew how the soldier felt.
“Get in touch with somebody. Find out just what the fuck is going on.”
“O…out there?” the man finally said. Yeah, he knew just how the he felt.
“Then get a detail and start digging a pit. We’ll need to burn the bodies.”
Caught in the Web Page 13
