by Steven Bird
Feeling the tension in the air, T. R. replied, “Understood. So what is your hope? What are you searching for?”
“You’ll have to earn my respect before I share something personal with you, and that’s probably not going to happen. For now, it’s all business. You work for me. You do what I say when I say it, and how I say it. I’m not your partner. I’m not your friend. You’ve got to earn those positions as well.”
“So, you don’t think people can change?” T. R. asked in a frustrated voice.
“Yes and no,” Jessie replied. “A lot of people talk about being a changed man. It takes a lot more than words and good intentions for that to happen, though. You’ve got to be able to dig deep and stand up to whatever it is that led you astray. You can’t just wish it away. You can’t just say ‘I don’t do that anymore.’ You’ve got to set things straight, in reality, not just words. Can people be forgiven, though? Of course. God knows who you really are on the inside, not just who you were in the past or the character you portray on the outside. It’s the rest of us that need proof.”
After a moment of awkward silence, Jessie said, “That’s enough babbling on about redemption. Let’s get a move on. We need to get somewhere safe where we can regroup, plan and observe. Got any ideas?”
Thinking to himself for a moment, T. R. replied with a grin, “Actually, yes. I do.”
“And?” Jessie queried.
“Back home, when I was in my early twenties, some buddies and I would float down the river on a sunny Saturday afternoon on old dump truck inner tubes. We’d lash a cooler onto an extra tube and just drink beer and drift all day, waving at folks who lived on the riverbank as we floated past their backyards. We would use two pickup trucks. One to haul us upstream several miles, where we would begin our day of drinking beer and aimlessly floating, with another empty truck waiting for us at a selected location downstream. We would simply float from one truck to another and then drive back to get the first truck. If we were sober enough, that is.”
“Go on...” Jessie said, interested on where the story was going.
“Anyway, Peronne has the roads and all of the main entryways into the city pretty well controlled. However, the Pecos River, especially at night, may be a good way in. They watch it from a distance when doing patrols, but no one actually walks the bank. If we can work our way around to the northwest and intercept the Pecos River, and if we can find something that will work as a float, we can drift into town under the cover of darkness. The Pecos River heads directly into town from the west until it reaches a point where it makes a turn to the south. On the north bank of the river at the bend, there’s a narrow strip of land between the canal and the river that is mostly brush and trees, with only one house I can think of. We can beach our tubes and hide them in the brush. With their eyes on the roads and traditional access points, we may be able to slip into town and work our way to Jack’s place.”
“How far into town is Jack, and how far from the nearest concentration of police assets is he?” Jessie asked, intrigued by the idea.
“City Hall is a good distance away, but he’s basically just a block from the post office. They use that building as a storage facility due to the fact that it was built to be naturally secure. They keep the assets taken from all of the ambush sites there.”
“Sounds like that’s Peronne’s bank.” Jessie snarled.
“Yeah, basically,” T. R. replied. “On the bright side, any of the officers at the post office will be there for the primary duty of defending the facility. It’s not a launching point of patrols or operations. It can be a good indicator of their current protective posture, though. Also, I can estimate how many officers are potentially on patrol based on how many are guarding the facility.”
“Is that where he keeps the women and children he takes from the ambushes? Or is that elsewhere?”
“Typically, the people who are taken aren’t kept in Fort Sumner very long. Peronne has to keep up an image within the town, or at least he thinks he does. He tries to keep such things under wraps. He’s living this delusion that if he keeps up the appearance of being the legitimate government of Fort Sumner and with the people’s best interests at heart, which people will eventually start to see things that way. Like I said, though, he’s delusional. Everyone in town knows what he’s done and what he’s up to. They’ll never forget. Some are okay with it because they get something out of it, but most are just biding their time.”
“Biding their time for what?”
“Nothing specific,” T. R. replied as he swatted at a mosquito. “Damn bugs are gonna be thick this year,” he said. “Anyway, they just figure it won’t go on forever. But in regards to the people taken during the ambushes, they are flown out or transported by road within a day of their capture. Peronne typically doesn’t take in anyone he doesn’t put a trade value on, and they definitely don’t get brought to town if they don’t have value.”
“Did you participate in any of the ambushes?” Jessie asked. “And don’t lie to me.”
“No. Not at all,” T. R. quickly replied. “Peronne has a special team for that. They’re his inner circle, and they’re cut from the same cloth as him. No, those guys didn’t care for me much. I was mostly utilized for patrols and watch standing within the town.”
Piecing together everything T. R. was saying in his mind, Jessie said, “On the east side of town, I came across several vehicles that looked as if they had been taken down by an ambush. The previous night, I heard an exchange of gunfire from my camp. That’s what led me there the next morning. One of the vehicles was a minivan that appeared to have been transporting several small children. There were several dead adult civilians at the scene and one dead officer...”
“Picoulas,” T. R. interrupted.
“What?”
“The officer that was killed was Picoulas. Dave Picoulas. He was kind of an ass, so it didn’t hurt my feelings any when I heard,” T. R. replied.
“So you know about that hit, then?” asked Jessie.
“I know it happened, but not any specifics. One thing I can tell you, though, is that Peronne’s Go-team made a run to the airport the next morning. With who or what, I don’t know. I did overhear some of the guys joking about a woman, though.”
“What about a woman?” Jessie asked.
“Barnes... he’s one of Peronne’s lap dogs, was joking about some woman they had gotten the opportunity to have a little fun with while she was drugged out of her mind. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. That’s why I finally left. What those bastards did while they were outside of town was one thing, but the fact that they were now bringing it back to town with them... well, that was my cue to leave. What if they were having their way with some woman and I was around? Could I just look the other way? I just couldn’t deal with the thought of that.”
“I thought you said they didn’t keep people in town?”
“They usually don’t. That was a first that I know of. I don’t know what Peronne has or had in mind, but I didn’t want to be around for it.”
“Is she still there? Is she okay?” Jessie asked.
“I’m not sure. Like I said, that was the first I had even heard about it, and I punched out that night. If we can get into town, though, and if we can get to Jack, he may have a clue. His daughter, Angela, works for City Hall. She’s a clerk of some sort now. She was a driver’s licensing examiner for the state before it all started, so I guess it was an easy transition for her to work in public service. Anyway, I’m sure she keeps him up to speed on the goings on, at least to the extent she is aware.”
Confused by what seemed to him to be contradictions, Jessie asked, “If this Jack guy is so against Peronne and what he does, why does he allow his daughter to work for him?”
“She doesn’t actually work for Peronne directly, just for the city. Granted, it’s a small city, so she does have to interact with him on occasion, but I’d imagine Jack would rather have her in a safe place and in
the know. Knowledge is not only power; it can mean security as well. Plus, Peronne generally doesn’t hurt his own people. He needs loyalty to stay in control. Once I began to work for the department, and Jack started giving me the cold shoulder, I never personally spoke with her other than just being cordial in passing.”
Looking at his watch and comparing it to the position of the sun, Jessie exhaled deeply and said reluctantly, “Okay, we’ll go in together. Let’s get a move on before we find ourselves on the run again. Let’s get old Eli saddled up and get the extra gear loaded up. You and I can walk, and he can haul the gear. Although I would love to take my time to observe and plan, I have a feeling our window of opportunity is getting narrower with each passing moment. As soon as they realize what happened to your former cohorts they sent after you, the game will start to change.”
Chapter Fifteen
Walking over to the record player while Leina sat quietly in the leather chair by the bookshelf, Chief Peronne lifted the needle off the record spinning on the turntable and removed it, carefully putting it away. Blowing the dust off another record that he carefully removed from an old, well-worn album cover, he placed it gently on the turntable and began to watch it spin as he lowered the needle. “You’re gonna love this one,” he said, appearing to be lost in the music.
Closing his eyes as he listened intently to the crackle through the speakers of the old machine, he smiled as the saxophone and old upright bass began to belt out his favorite tune, followed by the smooth and hypnotic sound of an electric guitar that was clearly in very skilled hands. “It’s food for the soul,” he said as he swayed with the rhythm and the beat.
Looking the bookshelf over as she took another sip of wine, Leina noticed it was full of the great classics of modern literature, as well as Greek philosophy and books on the art of war.
As her eyes scanned each volume, her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of his footsteps coming closer and his voice, saying, “Feel free to take any of them to read.”
“You’ve got quite a collection,” she said smartly.
With a smug look on his face, he opened his mouth to reply just as she asked, “Did you acquire them all yourself, or did they belong to someone else before the collapse?”
Pausing for a moment, his smile fading from view, Chief Peronne said, “That’s why we need you around here.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you’re a survivor. That’s why you’ve kept yourself and your children alive for so long. You can’t let even one moment go by without asserting some level of control. You feel the need to guide even the simplest conversation. I admire that. Strength is what this world needs most of all. Weakness is what got us into the mess.”
“Weakness, betrayal, and treachery,” she replied, taking a sip of wine.
“Indeed,” he replied calmly, increasing the sharpness of his gaze. “Back to my point, though. We need someone like you around here. I can offer you a home to live in, and although we don’t have a traditional monetary system for trade, I can offer you food, clothing, and everything you’ll need.”
“And for the children?”
“Of course, the children,” he replied. “The children can go to school with the other kids and live about as normal a life as one could expect these days.”
“Don’t you mean we?” she asked, looking him directly in the eye.
Confused by her statement, he said, “Excuse me? I don’t follow.”
“Don’t you mean we, as in the residents of the town? You keep saying I. I thought as a police officer, even the chief of police, that you were simply one of the town’s civil servants. Does what you are offering me belong to you, or the townspeople?”
Placing his glass on the table, he turned to her and said in a calm and collected voice, “Look, I respect your tenacity, but you don’t need to pick apart every word I say. Arguing over semantics isn’t going to get us anywhere. I’m trying to do something good for you.”
“All I want from you is to stop playing games and bring back my children.”
Taking a seat across from her, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, he began to speak, as Leina was distracted by a dizzy feeling that started to come over her. Was it the wine? she thought, looking at her glass. It has been a while since I’ve had a drink.
Tuning back into his words, she could tell that Chief Peronne was seemingly becoming more agitated as he spoke, saying, “Look, I brought you here to this beautiful house. I offered you expensive wine—which is a real luxury these days that not many people can acquire. I’ve played beautiful music for you from antique and hard-to-find albums. And I’ve offered you a life and a future that many women around the world would literally kill for today. And how do you show your thanks? You repay me with disrespect...”
Her vision now becoming blurry, she tuned out his words for a moment as she tried to get a grip on herself. Interrupting his childish rant, she demanded, “Where are the children? Stop... stop playing games and bring them to me,” she said as the room began to spin.
Standing in front of her, Chief Peronne walked over to her and said, “That’s enough of that. You’re not in a position to keep making demands. And quite frankly, I’m tired of hearing them.”
A feeling of warmth and numbness began to come over her as she looked at her glass. “You bastard!” she shouted, splashing him in the face with its remaining contents.
Picking up a decorative towel from an elegant silver serving tray next to the bottle of wine, he wiped his face, and with a crooked smile said, “It’s clear I may not get what I want from you, but I’ll sure as hell take what I need.”
Chapter Sixteen
As the chill of the cool night’s breeze blew across Jessie’s face, he paused in a crouching position, looking and listening for any activity up ahead. Having worked their way around Fort Sumner at a safe distance, arcing around to the north and northwest, Jessie and T. R. were finally in a position to make their move into the town.
Looking back toward T. R.’s last known position, Jessie signaled for him to hold there. Working his way back to T. R. through the brush of the surrounding area, Jessie arrived to find T. R. waiting patiently with Eli as he had been instructed.
“Are you ready to do this?” Jessie asked as if to offer T. R. one final opportunity to change his mind.
“Yes, sir,” T. R. replied sharply.
“You know we’re not going to just walk out of there, right? At some point, it’s gonna get rough. Someone is gonna get killed. Who that someone is, remains to be seen. Are you sure you’re up to walking right into the middle of it all, knowing the advantages they have?”
“Without question,” T. R. replied.
“Well, let me take care of something first,” Jessie said as he walked over to Eli and began to scratch him on the top of his head and underneath his chin. “Eli, old boy,” Jessie said with fondness and affection in his voice. “I don’t know where things are gonna go from here. If I see you again, you can be rest assured you’ll always have a home with me. But just in case I don’t return, I want you to have a fighting chance,” he said as he removed Eli’s bridle.
Walking around to the saddle, Jessie removed the load that Eli had dutifully carried and then gently slipped the saddle off him as well. “Go on, boy. I’m sure you can find plenty to eat out there,” he said, walking back in front of him and scratching him under the chin for what could be the last time. “Just do me a favor. Stay away from people, if you can. We’re the most dangerous predator out there. Unlike a wolf or a mountain lion, whose motivations are always consistent and clear, a man’s motives can never be trusted, unless, of course, that trust is earned. Now, go. Go live out your retirement in freedom.” he said, giving Eli a swat on the rear end, running him off into the darkness and away from the dangers of town.
“You don’t think we’re gonna need him when it’s over?” T. R. asked.
“That wouldn’t be fair to him. We’ve got about as much
of a chance of making it back to him in one piece as he does of picking up a rifle and joining us. No, if something were to happen to us, I want Eli to live out his final days as he sees fit. Leaving him out here, tied to a tree to starve to death while he waits for us to return would be cruel. There’s just too many ways this can all go wrong to leave him in that kind of a situation.”
Nodding in agreement, T. R. asked, “So, what now? What’s the plan?”
“It’s your plan from here. You know the river. You know our adversary. I’m second guessing the floating idea, though.”
“What do you mean?” T. R. asked, confused as to what Jessie meant.
“I’d feel like a sitting duck, floating along at the mercy of the current, just waiting to be shot. How deep is the river on average?”
“I think it averages eight feet deep below the Lake Sumner dam, but it’s quite shallow in many places.”
“Eight feet in the center, right? How’s the gradient of the riverbank? Is it steep or shallow?”
“Mostly shallow,” T. R. replied. “I believe you could walk out into most of it until it got too deep, but that’s not an educated answer. That’s a casual observer’s answer.”
“Let’s use the river as our access point, as you recommended, but let’s go in on foot, wading in the shallows, with the ability to disappear quickly under the cover of the water if need be. It will be slower going, but I have a feeling it would be much safer and stealthier than floating down the middle of the river, potentially drifting right in front of trouble with little recourse.”
