Compound Fracture

by Franklin Horton

  "I could take one of the side-by-side ATVs?" Robert suggested. "That Polaris of yours is pretty fast."

  Arthur cleared his throat. "You’re getting ahead of yourself here. I don't think we pinned down that you're the one going on this mission, even if we do undertake it."

  “But you’d consider it?”

  “Hell, I’d consider anything at this point,” Arthur replied.

  The sound of boots on the stairs to the deck got everyone’s attention. The group went on alert, hands dropping to sidearms. A serious face appeared at the top of the steps. It was Carlos, the radio operator.

  “What is it?” Arthur asked.

  “I need you in the commo shack now.”

  Minutes later, Arthur stood in the radio shack, jammed shoulder-to-shoulder with his friends and team leaders. He had the microphone in his hand, listening to the congressman’s angry voice pour through the wall-mounted speakers.

  "Do you have my son?" the congressman bellowed, venom in his tone.

  "We have a prisoner," Arthur acknowledged. “We believe him to be part of a hostile enemy force currently engaged in an unlawful attack against our home.”

  He released the mic button. “They probably just noticed the kid was missing when they showed up for dinner and he didn’t have their soufflé waiting for them.”

  "This really doesn't bode well for you people," the congressman growled. His tone was exaggerated, theatrical, as if he were again playing to an audience. "We have tried to conduct ourselves in a civil fashion. We’ve tried diplomacy and negotiation. Now you've killed several of my men and kidnapped my son.”

  "We killed men who were actively engaged in firing at our folks. That’s called self-defense. I would also consider it rather naïve on your part to assume you could steal someone’s property under the cloak of diplomacy. Did you really think I was just going to turn this place over to you? If you’ve done any research at all, you know how much of my own blood and sweat went into this.”

  "I don’t give a tinker’s damn what you put into that place. Consider this to be official notice that the window of civil discourse has closed. From this point forward we are no longer fellow Americans. You may consider us to be your enemies."

  Arthur keyed the mic, laughing into it. "You dumbass, I've never considered us to be anything but enemies. You gave up being Americans when you decided to steal my property like some third-world dictator. Now your son will pay the price for it. His blood will be on your hands."

  "I could lie to you and tell you things will go easier if you release him but I know you wouldn't believe me. In fact, I don't think there's anything you can do at this point to make this go easy for you.”

  "I'm prepared to make you a slightly more generous offer,” Arthur replied. “Pack your little campers, get the hell out of here, and the rest of you might escape the fate that your son is going to meet."

  "You better not harm my son," the congressman said through clenched teeth. “If you've spoken to him at all, you know the boy is not a threat. In fact, he’s damn near useless, which is why he's packing a spatula and not a gun.”

  "The fact that you see him as an ineffective soldier does not change the fact that he is a member of an invading force. He is the enemy and will be dealt with appropriately."

  "This is war now!” the Congressman bellowed.

  Arthur held the microphone back up to his own mouth. "It was always war."

  11

  After the radio conversation between Congressman Honaker and Arthur the compound went on full alert. With diplomacy tossed out the window there was concern there might be an attempt to rescue Jeff. Arthur didn’t have an accurate picture of the size of the Congressman’s force. He hoped Honaker understood that throwing men at the heavily armed compound would be suicidal but the congressman could be blinded by any number of things, including his pride, his narcissism, and his determination to get his son back. Arthur wasn’t even sure that last item on this list was motivated by love as much as by the congressman’s desire to save face in front of his men.

  Arthur gathered his team leaders in front of the commo shack. "I need every man on duty tonight. Hand out caffeine pills, energy gels, and keep the coffee flowing. Alert the men who have remote duty stations and pull them back a little tighter to the command pod. I don't want anyone so far out they can be easily separated and picked off. We protect the core of the compound and we protect each other. That's our priority. If we lose any ground we can take it back over the next couple of days because I don’t think they have enough men to keep it."

  The team leaders rushed off to carry out Arthur’s assignments. Arthur directed his attention to Robert and Sonyea. "I want you two to get some rest. If you’re still up for this Pied Piper mission we talked about, we’ll launch it at daybreak. Be ready. Have your personal gear packed."

  "Are you sure the timing is right?" Robert asked, surprised to be on-deck. "Won’t they be all over us since they’re trying to get the congressman’s son back?”

  Arthur threw a devious smile. "I have an idea for that."

  "This should be good," Kevin said.

  Arthur nodded. "Oh, it’s twisted.”

  "What do you need me to do?" Kevin asked.

  "I need somebody to weld up a jerry can rack for the Polaris Razer. Something that will hold four cans. It’s fine if it crowds the back seat a little but they’ll still need room for three people.”

  “Three people?” Robert asked. “Who are you sending with us?”

  “Jeff.”

  Robert threw up both hands. “Now wait a damn minute! No one said anything about taking Jeff with us. I volunteered to go on this mission to help, not to babysit.”

  “I can send someone else if you’re not agreeable to the plan.”

  “It was my idea!” Robert erupted. “I want to go but I don’t want to jeopardize it by having someone along who might sabotage the whole thing.”

  “Then maintain control of your prisoner. Don’t give him an opportunity to screw things up,” Arthur said.

  “Look, Robert, it makes sense from a mission standpoint,” Kevin said. “If I was sending you to meet up with some group, whether it was a cartel, the Taliban, whoever, I would send you in with a familiar face. It would make them more likely to buy your story. It makes you more credible.”

  “I don’t like it,” Robert said. “I see the logic but I still don’t like it.”

  “What if he refuses to cooperate?” Sonyea asked.

  “Then we kill him,” Robert said, looking Arthur in the eye.

  Arthur shrugged. “I’m good with that, if that’s where the road leads, but that’s on you to figure out.”

  “So, anything else need done to the Razer?” Kevin asked.

  “Yes, take one of the mechanics and have him go over it. The three of them will need food and gear for the trip. Give them two sets of handcuffs so they can lock Jeff up to a tree each night. Throw in a short length of lightweight chain so they can secure him to whatever is handy at night.”

  “Throw in some of that good night vision,” Robert asked. “Can you do that?”

  “Planned on it,” Kevin said. “Two sets.”

  "Every time we’ve tried to leave this place we’ve taken fire," Sonyea said.

  "Trust me, before the sun even comes up tomorrow, the congressman will have every man in his force watching the front gate. While he’s doing that, you guys can launch out the back of the compound at seventy miles per hour. Even if they notice, they’re not going to have time to react. You’ll be miles away by the time they decide to come after you."

  "Why will they be watching the gate?" Robert asked. "If I was him, if I was trying to breach your perimeter, I would come in through the least defended sector."

  "It’s all part of my twisted little plan," Arthur said. "Kevin, you know that scaffold at the shooting range that we put the instructor on sometimes?"

  "I do.”

  "Have some guys bring every section of it up here. A
lso have them bring Bob from the classroom."

  “The torso dummy?” Kevin asked.

  “That’s him,” Arthur said.

  "Torso dummy?" Sonyea asked. "What exactly is that?"

  "It's the big rubber torso we practice self-defense strikes on," Kevin said. "It’s like a punching bag except it has human features. Its name is Bob."

  "This sounds utterly devious," Robert said.

  Arthur broke a small smile. "You'll find out in the morning. I want you and Sonyea to try and grab some sleep. You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow and I want you alert. The rest of us are going to pull an all-nighter.”

  12

  It was a little after 4 AM when Arthur's core group gathered in the meeting space he referred to as his command bunker. A rubbery pink torso lay on a folding plastic table beneath the harsh glare of a halogen work light. It looked like the botched result of an alien autopsy. The blocky head, complete with grimacing face and molded hair, was attached to a long torso. There were no arms and legs but there had been a weighted stand, now removed, that kept the dummy vertical when it was being used.

  This was Bob, the striking dummy used in self-defense classes. Unlike a standard punching bag, Bob taught you to aim for specific features or regions of the body. It was a better way to train. Bob wasn’t here as a training prop today. He had an integral role in the new mission.

  "You're on, Doc," Arthur said with a grin.

  The doc frowned as if he were the butt of a distasteful joke, which apparently he was. "I guess you guys think it's hilarious to make a real doctor do this surgery?"

  "Isn't it?" Kevin asked.

  "It kind of is," Sonyea added with an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

  The doctor withdrew a Benchmade folding knife clipped to his pocket. He flicked the blade open and looked around the room. "I'm assuming disinfection and sterilization protocols aren't necessary?"

  Arthur smiled. "Now you're getting into the spirit of things. Get to it."

  The doc grumbled as if he were still not on board with the humor of having to perform surgery on the dummy. He positioned himself over the torso and applied the tip of his knife to the rubberized torso with such seriousness that he might indeed be engaging in thoracic surgery. Unlike a standard surgical procedure, though, he made multiple crisscrossing incisions through the outer layer of plastic “skin.” When he was done he stepped back, folded his knife and gestured at his patient.

  "He’s all yours. I hope you're satisfied," he said.

  Arthur tore open a cardboard box of Hot Hands chemical hand warmers, normally used by hunters to keep their hands and feet warm in the winter. The packets produced a chemical reaction that generated heat for several hours. Arthur handed out packets and everyone began tearing them open.

  Arthur caught the doc trying to slip away at the back of the room. "You're not done yet. Get back up here. This is a delicate surgical procedure."

  The doctor rolled his eyes and stepped back up to the table. As the folks around the room opened and activated the chemical hand warmers, the doctor peeled back the flaps he’d opened in Bob and began dispersing the chemical hand warmers around the torso, placing them between the rubberized skin layer and the foam core. When he had inserted all the packets, he sealed the incisions with duct tape.

  Arthur stepped forward and slapped a hand on the rubber torso. "I think he’ll make a full recovery. A notch above your usual work there, Sawbones."

  "Just remember, there'll be a time when you need me," the doctor said. “It’s always good to keep the doctor on your good side unless you want me to repair you with duct tape.”

  Arthur was looking at the dummy with satisfaction. "Now, who has the legs?"

  One of the team leaders stepped forward with a length of canvas firehose. The hose was draped in equal lengths around Bob's neck with the loose ends pulled down the front of his torso so that they would hang like legs. More duct tape was applied around Bob’s stomach to hold the canvas “legs” in place. The hose was filled alternately with sand and several hot hands packets. Where the ankles would be, the canvas hose was sealed with zip ties. When this part was done, they dressed Bob in some old work clothes.

  Arthur admired their handiwork. "Not bad." He gestured at the team leaders. "As quietly as possible, get that scaffolding down to the front gate. Position it beneath that big oak. I want a noose running over a branch of the oak and around Bob's neck. Strap Bob to that scaffolding so he won’t fall off. I want him looking like some scared schmuck standing there waiting to die. When you're done, fall back to cover and give me a heads up on the radio."

  The men were ready to get to work but Arthur held up a hand to silence them a moment longer. “Do not discuss your jobs with anyone. Do not speak to each other about what you are doing. I don’t know that the enemy doesn’t have parabolic microphones on us or some other type of listening device. This plan only works if they believe it. Don’t say anything outside this room that might give it away.”

  The men jumped into action. The dummy was heavy and awkward to handle but they hoisted it like a drunken buddy and disappeared out the door. Arthur looked at his watch.

  “It’s about 4:30 A.M. I'm aiming for a 5:30 showtime. Robert and Sonyea, you guys get your personal gear ready and get it to the hay barn. The Razer will be there waiting on you. Make damn sure you’re combat-ready—primary and secondary weapons systems hot. Don’t pack to travel, pack to fight."

  "What about Jeff?” Robert asked.

  "We’ll load Jeff at the hay barn. Don’t you worry about him. He’ll be cuffed to the roll cage and will have basic gear—sleeping bag, tarp, food, and water. You can make him as comfortable or uncomfortable as you want. I don’t give a crap."

  "Does he know he’s going with us?” Sonyea asked.

  Arthur nodded. "We had a long talk last night. He told me everything we needed to know about their intended route and what he knew of their security protocols. I think he was telling the truth given his level of fear. All that information will be provided for you when you reach the barn. I’m giving you guys the Taser to take with you. He had a taste of that and didn’t like it at all. I told him several times last night that you guys didn't mind watching him twitch if he insisted on being an asshole. I also told him that you were clear to kill him if he became a burden."

  "You really think he’ll cooperate?" Robert asked.

  Arthur shrugged. "I already told him he will never be rejoining any of his family. He knows our strength and believes we are capable of carrying out the threats we made. He’s buying into this concept that this is his chance to be a hero and save everyone. I also explained to him that if you guys aren’t back here in a week we will kill everyone outside of the perimeter, including the families that arrive here.”

  Robert and Sonyea looked at each other. Neither of them was completely certain what they were getting into but that was the nature of the beast. Missions could be like that. Sometimes you were simply launching yourself into the unknown and hoping you had the skills to keep yourself alive.

  13

  The congressman was roused from a restless sleep by several bursts of full auto gunfire. He sat bolt upright in the master suite of his RV, eyes wide with fear. Had Arthur launched an attack? He was trying to shake the fog from his head when there was a knock at the door.

  "What is it?" He threw back his blankets and swung around to get dressed. “What the hell is going on out there? Are we under attack?”

  "I'm not sure. There's something going on at the gate.” It was Bradshaw, an officer with the Capitol Police. The congressman had met Bradshaw soon after being elected and they’d become friends over the years.

  The congressman burst from his room and jammed himself into the cramped dinette, pulling on his socks, then hastily trying to button a flannel shirt. It started crooked but he didn’t have time to fix it. "Who's firing? Is that them or us?"

  "I haven't figured it out yet. I was getting ready to put a call out on t
he radio."

  Bradshaw was staying in the command RV with the congressman. It wasn’t so much an act of largesse on the congressman’s part as it was in keeping Bradshaw tied into providing personal protection for him. Having Bradshaw under the same roof meant any attacker would have to go through one more person before they got to the congressman.

  He pulled on his boots and tied the laces while Bradshaw worked the radio. He stood up, tucked his shirt in, then hauled his suspenders up over his shoulders. The RV door flew open and the rest of his command team piled in.

  The congressman’s mind was racing. He wasn’t used to being in a position where he had no idea what was going on. Even in Washington he was a master of backchannel gossip and intrigue. People rarely took him by surprise. He’d been naïve to think all of his manipulative abilities and hollow threats would get him through this.

  "What's the source of the gunfire?" Bradshaw asked the men who’d just come inside.

  "I don’t think it’s our people.” It was Colonel Jacobs. Actually, retired Colonel Jacobs, who now worked as a consultant and lobbyist. He treated Congressman Honaker very well and that was all it took for the congressman to consider anyone a close personal friend. Those were positions always open to the highest bidders.

  Bradshaw returned to the radio. "Can anyone with eyes on the gate tell me what the hell is going on?”

  There was a crackle of static and an excited voice burst from the small speaker on the radio. “This is Cummings. I’ve got eyes on the gate. There's been some activity there but the gunfire was definitely not ours. I repeat, the gunfire is not our people."

  “Give me that!” The congressman snatched up the mic and barked into it. "What kind of activity is going on out there?"

  "I have thermal capability but no night vision," Cummings replied. "I can see a figure standing on top of a tall platform but that's all I can make out. If you want more than that, I’ll need someone with night vision."