by Steven Bird
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps walking toward the door. Hearing a brief, muffled conversation, she heard a set of footsteps walking away from the room, while the door slowly creaked open. Closing her eyes, pretending to be asleep, Leina listened to what sounded like a man’s footsteps, walking slowly across the room to the bed.
Feeling the covers being pulled back, exposing her naked body, she trembled inside as she fought the instinct to react. Feeling a man’s hand on her bare breast, she could wait no longer. Leina swung her right hand across her body, opening her eyes to see Officer Barnes standing over her as the corkscrew plunged into his neck.
Grasping the hand that he had placed on her breast with her left, she held him in place while she stabbed him repeatedly in the neck. Blood sprayed all over her, the coils of the corkscrew tearing chunks of flesh free with each violent thrust.
Looking directly into his eyes, seeing sheer terror on his face as his free hand fumbled for his gun, she said, “Enjoy your time in Hell, you son-of-a-bitch,” as she plunged the corkscrew into the temple of his head, killing him instantly.
His lifeless body collapsing on top of her, the bed becoming soaked with blood, she struggled to reach his belt. Removing his handcuff key, she shoved his body aside, freeing her from his smothering weight. Sitting up and quickly while releasing her restraints, she crawled off the bed and stripped him of his duty belt containing his holstered pistol and spare magazines.
Still naked and now covered with blood, Leina pulled open a drawer containing what she assumed were Chief Peronne’s undershirts. Using them as towels, she wiped off as much of Barnes’s blood as she could and began looking around for something to wear. Pulling out drawer after drawer and dumping the contents onto the floor, Leina found a drawer containing sweat pants and workout clothing. Quickly donning both the pants and hooded sweatshirt of a jogging-style suit, she fastened the duty belt around her waist, pulling it to the tightest possible notch, and drew the 9mm Glock from the holster. Checking the action, verifying that a round was in the chamber and that the magazine was fully seated, she tiptoed over to the door, listening for any signs of another officer on the other side.
Running across the room to the west-facing window, she looked outside to see that she was on the second floor, and beneath her was a stone patio. Knowing that jumping from that distance would almost certainly cause a serious injury, especially while barefoot, she slipped back across the room, listening once again for sounds on the other side of the door.
Hearing nothing, she opened the door quietly and looked down the hallway, seeing no one present. Slipping down the hall toward the stairs, she could hear footsteps walking across the old wooden floor downstairs, its creaks giving away the person’s position.
Moving silently down the stairway, she could see an officer in the main parlor area of the house, sitting on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table. With the stairs running down behind the sofa and with the officer’s back to her, Leina carefully snuck across the floor behind him and into the kitchen of the home.
Walking over to the knife rack, Leina removed a decorative chef’s knife with a Damascus-steel blade and what appeared to be an ivory handle.
Turning her attentions back to the man on the sofa, Leina crept ever so quietly behind him. Slowly reaching out with her left hand, and in an act of vengeance, she grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head back, and slid the blade across his throat, slicing him from ear to ear. As her rage continued to build, she kept sawing violently back and forth until his head detached from his body.
Breathing heavily, with the blood of two men now splattered on her face and in her hair, she looked down at the grizzly scene, turned to look at the front door, then tossed the head onto the floor of the main entryway. Hitting the floor, the head bounced and rolled, leaving a trail of blood behind it before coming to rest on a fancy decorative rug.
Walking over to the large, front-facing windows, Leina pushed the curtain back slightly with the blade of the knife, looking for any signs that the home was being watched.
Seeing a patrol car coming down the street toward the house, Leina ran back into the kitchen and slipped out the back door, disappearing into the surrounding neighborhood.
Chapter Twenty
Awakened by the sound of the door being opened, Jessie quickly sat up and reached for his Colt. Hearing Jack’s voice say, “Relax,” it’s just me. I brought you some coffee,” Jessie took his hand off his gun and breathed a sigh of relief as he realized he had made it through yet another night without any of his ominous nightmares. His days that start out in such a manner never seem to go well for him.
“You have coffee?” Jessie asked in an upbeat tone.
“Yes, although I probably don’t want to know where it came from,” Jack replied. “I got it through the city as part of our food rations, which is how they pay us these days when we work.”
“What time is it?” Jessie asked.
“It’s seven-thirty,” Jack replied as he began pouring both Jessie and T. R. a cup. Handing a cup to Jessie, Jack said, “The other is for your buddy over there when he wakes up,” gesturing toward T. R.
“He’s still out cold, huh?” Jessie said. “Well, neither one of us has gotten much rest in the last few days. It felt good to sleep in a semi-secure environment last night. Thanks again for the hospitality.”
Changing the subject, Jack said, “Angela is off to work. She’s gonna see what she can find out today. When she gets back this evening, we’ll take what we have and go from there. For now, you two just need to stay put down here, just in case someone reported seeing you in town. Eyes are everywhere these days. Even without all the high-tech electronic surveillance the government used prior to the collapse, controlling the food supply will get people to do just about anything for you. Being a lookout pays very well, I’ve heard.”
Taking a seat in an old wooden chair, Jack leaned back against the wall and took a sip of coffee. Pointing at Jessie’s holster, he said, “What are you doing carrying that old relic around? Haven’t you been able to find an upgrade somewhere after all of this time?”
“This old relic is all I have left of my past,” Jessie said as he slid the gun out of its holster. Looking it over with fondness, he explained, “My father was a sheriff’s deputy when I was a boy. He carried this same pistol, and it saved his life more than once. Then, later in life, when I entered a law enforcement career myself, he handed it down to me. He died shortly after that, and well, I just wouldn’t part with this thing for the world, now. It’s saved my butt more times than I can count. It’s old and weathered, it’s hardly got any finish left, and it’s scuffed up pretty bad, but to me, it’s a work of art. No, there is no upgrade from this gun. It’s perfect just the way it is.”
Sliding the gun back into its holster, Jessie took a sip of coffee as Jack said, “So, you were a sheriff in Colorado?”
“Yeah, Montezuma County. Before the collapse, that is. My last election didn’t go so well. My opponent had money and connections. To say that I think the vote count was rigged would be a waste of breath. There toward the end, it seemed like all elections were frauds. The people selected by the elites to be put into power always seemed to come up with the necessary vote count in the end.”
“Tell me about it. Hell, at least we had elections back then, even if they were rigged. Peronne has never been elected, and that bastard is dominating the entire town.”
“That needs to change,” Jessie said, taking another sip.
“It will. Trust me,” Jack replied.
Kicking T. R.’s cot, Jessie said, “Time to get up. Your coffee is getting cold.”
With a yawn and a stretch, T. R. looked around the room, rubbed his eyes, and said, “Man, I must have slept like the dead last night.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Jack replied sharply, changing the tone of the conversation.
Hearing the door open upstairs, Jack quickly stood up as he heard Angela�
��s voice yelling, “Daddy! Daddy!”
Running out of the room and up the stairs, followed by both Jessie and T. R., Jack found Angela rushing to meet him.
“What? What is it? What happened?” he asked.
Stopping to catch her breath, she replied, “Something went down last night at Peronne’s home.”
“What?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I know that two of his officers are dead. And Rosa, Peronne’s maid, they raided her home and dragged her out kicking and screaming. Peronne is on the warpath, too. I heard him yelling that he was gonna tear the town apart looking for her.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. At that point, one of his men cleared us all out of City Hall and sent us all home for the day.”
“Could it be the woman they were keeping?” Jessie asked.
“I... I don’t know,” she replied. “That’s the first thing I thought of, though.”
“Well, guys,” Jack said, turning to Jessie and T. R., “if something is gonna happen, it’s gonna be soon. Peronne isn’t gonna let this go. He can’t let his department take a hit like that without making it clear to everyone in town that he still has an iron grip on everything. The last thing a wannabe dictator wants to do is show any signs of weakness or vulnerability. No, I would venture to guess that if Rosa had anything to do with what happened at his home, he’ll come down on her and her family hard.”
“So, what do we do?” asked Jessie.
Looking at T. R., Jack asked, “What’s the situation at the jail? Is that where they would have taken her?”
“More than likely,” T. R. replied. “The jail is inside the De Baca County Courthouse. If they are after someone, though, especially after the loss of four of their men over the past few days, the courthouse will have minimal staffing. They’ll double up on patrols, and probably start a door-to-door search. It won’t be pretty, either. It will be just as much an exhibition of power and control as it is about finding whoever it is they are looking for.”
Looking back at Jack, Jessie said, “Look, we don’t know what’s going on with the limited information that we have, but it would seem that this is a moment of opportunity. If Peronne and his men have their attention turned elsewhere, we can use the chaos of the situation to make a move.”
Scratching his chin, Jack asked, “What do you suggest?”
“I came here with the intention of finding out what happened to the children that were taken in the ambush east of town. That’s still my priority. Without intel, though, we’re just gonna be randomly fighting Peronne’s men with no clear objective. I think we need to get our hands on that Rosa woman. If she betrayed Peronne and helped the woman they were holding escape, then her allegiances have been broken, and she has nothing left to lose. Being his personal maid, she probably knows more about what goes on behind the scenes than anyone outside of the police department.”
“That makes sense,” Jack replied.
Angela added, “Rosa is a wonderful woman. We’ve got to help her, intel or not. But I agree, she’s probably the best source of information we’ve got. She had access to places no one else in town, other than Peronne’s men, could go.”
Looking at T. R., Jessie said, “Can you get us in? You know the facility, right?”
“I know the layout and the security protocols, but it’s a relatively secure building. It’s an old building. Very sturdy and well built. The lower level is all thick masonry with steel covers over the windows. The upper levels are brick, several feet thick, I would guess. The doors are reinforced with steel, and the windows are all barred between the panes of glass, it looks decorative, but they’re tough.”
Picking up a pen and a piece of scrap paper, Jack handed it to T. R., and said, “Draw the basic layout. Where might they be keeping her?”
Taking the pen in hand, T. R. began to sketch out the basic floorplan of the building to the best of his knowledge, saying, “The main entry is up the steps on the second level. The holding cells are in the basement. Like I said, the windows to the basement are covered with large steel plates.”
Taking the paper in hand and studying it for a moment, Jack placed it back on the table, put his finger on the drawing, and said, “Where, in here, would she likely be?”
“Probably in one of these, but that’s just a guess,” he said, marking the paper as he spoke.
“Alright, then. I’ve got to meet with a few people and work a few things out,” said Jack as he folded the paper and put it into his shirt pocket. “You two be working your way to the courthouse. I want you to both find a position on the east side of the building. When I arrive, make your move.”
“What? Um, make our move? What do you mean?” Jessie asked, confused.
“Like I said, I’ve got to work a few things out,” Jack explained. You’ll know when I’m there. And you’ll know when it’s time. Once we are able to make entry into the building, follow my lead.”
Looking at T. R., seeing the same look of confusion on his face, Jessie shrugged and said, “Roger that. But how will you know where we are?”
“I’ll see you when the shooting starts. Don’t worry, it will all be obvious. Besides, thinking we’re gonna be sticking to some sort of well-developed plan is a fantasy anyway. We’ve got to move now and on very little information. This is a shoot-from-the-hip type operation at best. Just roll with it,” Jack said confidently as he put on his jacket and gave Angela a kiss on the cheek. “Angela, you come with me. We’ll see you boys there.”
As Jack and Angela rushed out of the home, Jessie and T. R. looked at each other with mutual expressions of confusion. Shrugging his shoulders, Jessie said, “You heard the man. Let’s get back downstairs and get loaded up.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Working their way through town, moving skillfully from street to street, Jessie and T. R. covered each other as they moved in bounds. Along the way, they encountered Peronne’s men at several locations as they searched homes all throughout the town. Arriving just across Avenue C from the courthouse, T. R. and Jessie took shelter in an abandoned block and stucco automotive garage that was in the parking lot of a former Valero gas station. Looking through the small windows in the roll-up door, they could see the courthouse as well as one of the desert-tan SUV’s. Noting the lack of movement outside the courthouse, Jessie said, “And now we wait.”
“I wonder what Jack has in mind,” T. R. thought aloud.
“Yeah, same here. I’m not sure if he didn’t want to tell us for OPSEC reasons, or if he just had yet to figure it out himself. One thing is for sure, though.”
“What’s that?” T. R. asked.
“We’ve got a good idea of who is in Peronne’s back pocket, now.”
“How?”
“Didn’t you notice? Along the way, every time we encountered Peronne’s men kicking doors while looking for whoever it is they’re looking for, they didn’t hit every house. They skipped some for no apparent reason. Odds are, those houses are the eyes and ears.”
“Yeah, Good point,” T. R. replied, agreeing with Jessie’s deductions.
Sitting down on the floor and leaning against the wall in the darkest corner of the room, Jessie said, “You’ve got first watch.”
“Come again?” T. R. queried.
Lifting his hat to look T. R. in the eye, Jessie said, “Look, we don’t know how long it’s gonna take for anything to begin, much less to play out. We’ve got to assume we’re gonna be here for a while, and then whenever it does all hit the fan, that it will take some time to play out. When the situation before you is full of variables and unknowns, you’ve got to proactively manage the knowns. With that in mind, I’m gonna manage a nap. Wake me in two hours unless you feel the need to prior to that, then I’ll take a shift by the window.”
Shaking his head with a grin, T. R. said, “Roger that, Sheriff.”
Looking back up at T. R., Jessie said, “I wish you could still call me that. Just call me Jessie. There’s no sense
in dwelling on the past. Hell, there’s barely a future to dwell on.”
With a nod, T. R. turned and looked back out the window, watching the only movement he could see, that of a gentle breeze blowing an old plastic shopping bag down the street. I wonder how long that thing has been aimlessly wandering the world.
~~~~
Riding Brave back to the homestead at a leisurely trot, Jessie could see the smoke emanating from the chimney of the cabin over the next hill. Seeing the smoke from the chimney always made Jessie smile as he returned home. He knew the smoke meant that the cabin was nice and cozy inside, and Stephanie no doubt had something delicious cooking on top of the wood stove.
As Jessie rounded the last bend, he looked around in amazement at the beauty of their mountain retreat, and counted their many blessings. Looking back at his bounty stretched across the back of his saddle, Jessie counted them and said to himself aloud, “Four rabbits and three squirrels. That’ll make a nice change of pace from lamb and mutton.”
Refocusing on the cabin up ahead, now clearly visible, Jessie noticed that both the front screen door and wooden doors had been left standing wide open. Feeling concerned, knowing that Stephanie’s pet peeve was to keep the bugs out and the heat in, he nudged Brave forward, increasing his pace.
Arriving at the front of the cabin, Jessie quickly climbed down from Brave, tied his reins to the porch railing, and went inside. Looking around the room, seeing a fresh batch of homemade biscuits on the table and the teapot boiling over on the stove, Jessie said, “Steph? Sasha? Jeremy? Where are you?”
Walking over the to the bedroom door, Jessie turned the knob and swung it open. To his horror, he saw his beloved family, his beautiful wife, Stephanie, and his loving children, Sasha and Jeremy, all lying on the bed, piled one on top of another, with their throats slashed from ear to ear. The white bedsheets that Jessie and Stephanie had slept on for years, were now soaked with their blood, as it dripped down onto the floor below.
