Compound Fracture

by Franklin Horton

  “In my case, it’s definitely age,” Robert said. “I’m feeling my years today.”

  “In my case too,” Sonyea admitted.

  “You guys going to let me out or make me sit here all day?”

  Robert gave Sonyea a questioning look, then focused on Jeff. “Is there a reason you need out?”

  Jeff looked at Robert like he was an idiot. “Duh, I’d like to stretch too. I’ve been locked into this damn thing all morning just like you guys.”

  “He might need to go to the bathroom,” Sonyea said.

  “With that attitude, he can go in his pants,” Robert said. “The seats are waterproof and we can rinse the floor with a bucket of water.”

  Jeff frowned. “So that’s how it is?”

  “Like I said, attitude. Show us a good attitude and we’ll be a lot nicer,” Robert said.

  “How am I supposed to act? I’m your prisoner. I’m supposed to be all friendly and shit? I’m supposed to be nice to you?”

  “I don’t care how you act,” Robert said. “But it will be reflected back in how you’re treated. Remember, you agreed to this.”

  Jeff shook his head in frustration and groaned.

  Robert noticed a sympathetic look on Sonyea’s face. He gestured at her to step farther from the vehicle. “I know you’re a mother,” he whispered. “We can’t take any chances, though. We may need him to gain the trust of those families. If he escapes in these woods, we’ll never find him.”

  Sonyea pursed her lips. “What are you implying with that mother comment?”

  Robert looked at her blankly. She seemed offended and he had no clue why.

  “You think that means I’m weak, Robert? Easily manipulated?”

  Robert was getting an idea that he may have put his foot in his mouth. Again.

  Sonyea pointed a finger in Robert’s face. “I may be a compassionate person but I’m not soft. There’s nobody on this planet tougher than a mother.”

  “I have a lot of respect for mothers,” Robert said.

  Sonyea wagged her finger again. “Careful what you say, buster. If it comes out sexist like the rest of what you’ve said, I may just have to show you how tough a mother can be.”

  Robert’s mouth was open. She’d interrupted him as he’d been queuing up a comment. What she said made him think twice. Maybe the best thing was to say nothing at all. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s better,” Sonyea said. “But take this as a reminder to not assume you know what I’m thinking because you probably don’t. Unless, of course, you’re sensing at this very moment that I’m thinking you’re an asshole. If that’s the case, you’d be right.” She spun on her heels and walked away.

  “I’m sorry!” Robert called after her. It was all he could think to do.

  Sonyea marched to the passenger side of the Razer.

  “That guy say something mean to you?” Jeff asked. “He’s an asshole.”

  Sonyea drew her pistol and pointed it at Jeff. “I’m going to let you out to do your business, mostly because I don’t want a floor full of pee sloshing around my nice boots. Your hands will stay cuffed and I’ll have a rope around your neck. Any funny business and I’ll use the Tazer. If it comes to that, then it will be the last assistance you’ll see from me on this trip. Got it?”

  “How am I supposed to go with my hands cuffed?”

  “Not my problem and I’m not going to argue with you. This is your one opportunity. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it,” Jeff mumbled, rattling his cuffs.

  Sonyea made a paracord leash for Jeff and slipped it over his head. She pulled it tight and then unfastened the pair of cuffs that secured him to the grab handles in front of him. A second pair still bound his hands together. She stepped back while he awkwardly negotiated his way out of the vehicle. When he was free, she pointed him to a nearby cluster of mountain laurel.

  Jeff stared at the bushes. “That’s not very private. You planning on watching?”

  Sonyea lashed out with her foot, kicking Jeff in the butt with a good amount of force. He cried out and tried to skitter away from her but she yanked the leash tight. His eyes were watering from the force of the blow. It had not been a playful kick. “One more disrespectful comment and it’s back in the vehicle for you. You can stew in your juices for the rest of the day.”

  Although Jeff sulked at Sonyea’s abrupt reprimand, he didn’t say another word, heading directly to the bushes and stepping behind them to do his business. When he was done, he returned to the vehicle without so much as a glance in her direction.

  After he’d taken his seat, Sonyea fastened his seatbelt then cuffed him to the grab handles.

  “Do I get something to eat and drink?” he asked.

  “When the rest of us do,” Sonyea replied.

  “Catch,” Robert said, tossing Sonyea a bottle of water and a protein bar.

  She opened the bottle and put it in Jeff’s cup holder, then opened the protein bar and offered it to him.

  “Those suck,” he said.

  “Then enjoy your water,” Sonyea said, sticking the protein bar in her own mouth and walking off.

  “I was just joking,” Jeff said. “I’m sorry!”

  “Too late,” Sonyea said.

  “Can you eat and ride?” Robert asked.

  Sonyea nodded. “If you go easy on the bumps.”

  “Then let’s hit it. I feel like we’re a little too close for comfort.”

  19

  In the commo shack at Arthur’s compound, Carlos listened through his headset to the congressman and Arthur going back and forth. When they ended the conversation, Carlos listened for several more minutes to make sure they were done. He switched one of the radios to a memorized frequency.

  “Green for White, Green for White, come in.”

  Just as he was preparing to repeat himself, a voice broke the silence.

  “What the hell is going on over there?” “White” was the congressman and he was pissed.

  “It was a diversionary tactic,” Carlos said in a low voice. He couldn’t take a chance on anyone outside the shack overhearing this conversation.

  “Diversion for what?”

  “They launched three folks, including your son, out the back while you guys were distracted.”

  “What?” the congressman erupted. “How could you not warn me about that? We could have taken measures. I nearly had a heart attack thinking that was my son hanging from that tree. You have no idea what that was like.”

  “I tried to warn you but the information was compartmentalized. I didn’t know anything about it until a short while ago. I tried to relay the information as fast as I found out about it but no one answered on your end.”

  “Do we have time to intercept them?”

  “That’s unlikely,” Carlos said. “They’ve got a fifteen minute head start in an all-terrain vehicle. I don’t know their route but your son told me that the plan was for them to intercept your families on the road.”

  “You spoke to Jeff?”

  “That’s affirmative,” Carlos said. “But just for a moment. We got interrupted.”

  “Have you been compromised?”

  “I don’t think so. It was a civilian and he didn’t look suspicious.”

  “Why do they want to intercept our families?”

  “Jeff said something about delaying or diverting them. The plan is to prevent them from getting here. Arthur doesn’t want them caught in the middle of the fight.”

  “I don’t want that either. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. We should have been in there by now, making a place for our families.”

  “I guess Arthur thinks you guys might pull off this endeavor to rescue your families if you think they’re in danger.”

  “What am I supposed to do here? This whole thing is going to shit before my eyes.”

  Carlos wasn’t sure if the congressman was talking to him or just thinking out loud. “Sir, we need to keep this short.”

&n
bsp; “Who the heck did he send with my son?”

  “I don’t have that information.”

  “Then get it. How am I supposed to assess the level of this threat if I don’t know who’s out there headed toward my family?”

  “I’ll work on it. In the meantime, you might try to contact the security detail traveling with your families. They need to keep their eyes open. Now I have to go.”

  “Contact me again tomorrow,” the congressman said.

  “If I can.”

  “Do it!”

  Carlos ended the transmission and changed that radio to a different frequency. He pushed his chair back and stood, stretching to shake out the tension. He opened the windows and then the front door, stepping onto the porch for a smoke. There was still a lot of activity around the command pod. The tension was amped up, everyone running around in their full loadout, bristling with weapons.

  Carlos considered many of these men to be his friends. It bothered him to feel like he was betraying them. He had to remind himself it was a job. Carlos had been fresh out of the army when he got a job with the Capitol Police. The congressman had put in a good word for him, helping him get an important promotion, yet everything the congressman did came at a price. There were always strings. Always conditions.

  The congressman’s job recommendation only came with one. Work your way into Arthur Bridges’ good graces and buy a position within his compound. Once he’d done so, it was his job to be the man on the inside and keep the congressman apprised of activities on the compound. It was only when the world began falling apart that Carlos realized the significance of his deal with the devil. He was expected to live at the compound and continue his role as the man on the inside. When the time came, he was expected to help overthrow it.

  Carlos sat down on the steps and lit up a smoke. He was slouched on the steps when a side-by-side pulled onto the command pod and rolled to a stop. He spotted Brandon rolling out of the passenger side. He was going to flag him down and see if he could press him for information but Brandon shot off toward Arthur’s cabin. Then Carlos noticed the driver, an Army combat veteran named Cass, staring at his cigarette.

  He held it up toward her. “Want one?”

  She let out a sigh and came forward.

  “You act like I’m the devil,” Carlos joked.

  “No, but cigarettes are,” she replied. “I’d quit before the crap hit the fan. Now, with all this stress, I’m craving them big time.”

  Carlos pulled out his makings and rolled her one. She wasted no time snatching it when he was done, taking the lighter he offered. She took a drag off the cigarette, then pulled it out and stared at it, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “How can something so little have such a big hold on people?”

  “It’s a drug, baby,” Carlos said. “You’re an addict.”

  “You are too.”

  “I own it,” Carlos admitted. “I came prepared. I’ve got cartons. I’ve got enough rolling papers and loose tobacco to keep me smoking for years.”

  “Or until you die from it,” Cass pointed out.

  “Roger that,” Carlos laughed. “So what you guys been up to?”

  Cass took a look around. It wasn’t like she was sworn to secrecy or anything but gossip was frowned upon. It violated Arthur’s principles of keeping information compartmentalized for operational security. Still, just like in the military, gossip was what you did. It was what you talked about when you had time to talk.

  “With all the enemy at the front, we launched an operation out the back. You hear about it?”

  Carlos nodded. “Yeah. A little. I heard they sent the prisoner out with some escorts.”

  “That’s it,” she said. “I never did hear what they were supposed to be doing out there.”

  Carlos sat up and leaned forward conspiratorially. “I think they’re supposed to be intercepting the congressman’s family so they can keep them from showing up here. I guess they’re thinking that may force those assholes to pull off and go away.”

  Cass shook her head. “If that’s the case, with all these skilled soldiers to choose from, you’d think they would have sent some more capable folks on that operation.”

  This got Carlos’s attention. “Why? Who’d they send?”

  “The civvies.”

  “Really?”

  Cass nodded. “Robert and Sonyea. They’re friends of Arthur’s and they seem capable enough, but you have to wonder how much experience they have. None is my guess.”

  “No doubt,” Carlos said. “I don’t know those guys.”

  “The guy is the father of that chick that came with the horse trailer. The soldier in the wheelchair with her is the son of the woman. Those two just had the bad luck to end up getting trapped here when the congressman showed up. Otherwise they’d have been on their way a long time ago.”

  “If this mission is so important, why did they send those guys? You sure they’re not spooks or contractors or something? Kevin and Arthur know some switched-on folks.”

  Cass laughed. “I know that the guy, Robert, is a writer.”

  “A writer? What kind of writer?”

  “Science fiction.”

  “Nerd stuff? Really?” Carlos was incredulous. Of all the people to send on a critical mission.

  Cass nodded. “Apocalyptic, end of the world, nerd stuff.”

  Carlos shook his head. “They gonna die. They gonna die so bad.”

  “Arthur says his books are pretty good but I’ve never read one. Been thinking about it though. There’s a couple of them floating around the bunkhouse right now.”

  “I don’t read squat,” Carlos said. “Cereal boxes and texts. That’s about it.”

  “Caveman.”

  Carlos shrugged. “I am what I am. People can take it or leave it. So what’s this guy’s last name?”

  “Why, you writing a book, too?”

  “No,” Carlos said. “Just curious. I get bored enough, I might start reading.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  The sound of footsteps caught their attention and they both turned to find Brandon running in their direction. Cass tossed her cigarette butt into a five-gallon bucket half-full of nasty water. “Guess it’s back to work for me. Thanks for the smoke.”

  “No problem,” Carlos said, getting to his feet. “I got to get back on duty too.”

  “Hey, Brandon,” Cass called. “What’s that writer guy’s name?”

  “Why?”

  “Carlos was asking,” Cass said. “Says he wants to read one of his books.”

  Brandon gave Carlos a look like he wasn’t buying it. Brandon read a lot and had never seen Carlos with a book. It would have been the kind of thing he would have noticed. “Robert Hardwick.”

  Carlos nodded at Brandon. “Thanks, man. You guys be safe.”

  Cass and Brandon piled into the side-by-side, did a U-turn, and accelerated back in the direction they’d come from.

  Carlos took a final draw off his smoke then tossed the butt into the bucket. He climbed back up toward the commo shack.

  Robert Hardwick.

  20

  Back at the compound, they’d determined that Highway 64 in North Carolina’s Nantahala National Forest would be the best spot to intercept the convoy of families. The destination wasn’t significant in terms of miles but it was hard terrain. The mountains were steep and there were treacherous creek crossings. They ran into numerous pipe gates and steel cables intended to keep folks from doing exactly what they were doing. They used bolt cutters, a sledgehammer, and the bumper winch to bypass them.

  As the day wore on, Sonyea and Robert became more comfortable, assuming they were finally out of range of any pursuers. They could breathe easier. They’d taken so many turns on the mountain roads by this point it was unlikely anyone could be following them. Even Jeff, radiating anger and frustration like a solar flare, had settled into the ride. Robert’s mind wandered forward, hoping the RVs had not already passed them by. Beyond that, he started to strategize
on how he was going to stop their progress and turn them around once he found them. There was always something to worry about.

  Robert slowed the Razer when Sonyea pointed out his next turn. It was a gravel road that wound over a thousand feet down a mountain in an extensive succession of serpentine switchbacks. The road was clear of fallen trees and there was good visibility as they descended from alpine meadows into mossy forest. The temperature dropped, the moisture in the air increasing from the cold mountain stream that tumbled over rocks and filled the valley with a cool mist. It was almost pleasant, or might have been if circumstances had been different.

  When they reached the last switchback it was as if they’d entered a new world. Thick moss in varying shades of green carpeted downed trees and rocks the size of minivans. Lofty poplars and oaks stretched upward, straining toward what limited light reached the deep valley. Sound took on a different quality than it had on their previous stops. The moss created a muffling effect, like they were in a sound studio, the walls covered in sound-dampening foam. The only sound was the tumble of water over rocks, a low and constant roar that was almost calming.

  “This was a primitive campground,” Sonyea said. “The map shows camping and fishing spots throughout the valley bottom.”

  “Reminds me of home,” Robert said. “This is what Damascus looks like. Trout streams and deep forest.”

  “Sounds beautiful,” Sonyea said.

  “It is. Gets a little crowded in the summer when tourists show up.”

  “You were a tourist there once, weren’t you? You said you moved there from somewhere else. You’re like one of those reformed smokers who now despises the thing you used to be.”

  “Yeah, my wife reminds me of that too,” Robert said. “Usually when I’m bitching about tourists.”

  Robert eased into a blind left turn, both the road and the creek following the bend of the valley. Halfway through it, he saw the road ahead was blocked by vehicles. They weren’t sideways, like an intentional barricade, but parked. They likely belonged to the people staying in the campers crammed onto the narrow shoulder. They were still a good fifty feet ahead of him but Robert understood instantly there was no way he could get past them. The valley was narrow to begin with and there was a rock cliff just feet from the left of the road. To the right of the parked vehicles, there were campers, trees, and the trout stream. There was one way through and it was completely blocked.