THE ALEX FLETCHER BOXSET: Books 1-5

by Steven Konkoly

  “You don’t sound fine. What happened?”

  “They had to give me morphine. I got hit in the leg.”

  Kate found herself unable to breathe. “Hit by what?’ she said, sitting down on one of the chairs.

  “A bullet. We had some serious trouble getting out of Boston, but I’m totally fine. Mom? You there, Mom?”

  “I’m just a little…it’s so good to hear your voice. We didn’t know how bad it would get down there. I can’t tell you how happy I am,” she said, sobbing in between sentences.

  “Me too, Mom. I thought about the sailing trip and—”

  “I know. I know, sweetie. We barely made it back,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

  “How is Chloe doing?”

  “She’s doing great, Mom. I went to her apartment right after the shockwave hit. The city got pretty weird.”

  “You can tell me all about it in a few hours. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Let me talk to your father. I love you very, very much, Ryan.”

  “I love you too, Mom. I can’t wait to get back.”

  “Me either.”

  “Here’s Dad.”

  Kate waited for her husband’s voice to fill the digital void.

  “Kate, Ryan is fine. I didn’t want to worry you. We ran into some trouble.”

  “You’re bringing him back in one piece. That’s all that matters. I love you,” she said, her voice cracking.

  “I love you more, honey. I would have done anything to get him back.”

  “I know you. That’s why I was so scared. I wasn’t sure I’d get to see both of you again,” she said.

  “You almost didn’t see either of us. The situation down here is beyond comprehension. If we had waited another day…we might not be having this conversation. We can talk about it over an ice-cold dirty vodka martini down by the pond. How was your trip out? Sounds like everyone made it fine.”

  “I think happy hour will have to wait. We ran into a bit of a problem,” she said.

  “Everyone’s okay, right?”

  “Everyone is fine, but we were stopped by two drunken idiots in Waterboro claiming to be part of a militia group. It didn’t end well for them. They wanted us to give up our weapons or pay a toll to use the road.”

  “How much did they want?”

  “They didn’t want money,” Kate stated.

  “What did they want?”

  “I think they had something a little more personal in mind.”

  “Shit. Sorry, hon. One of us should have gone with you.”

  “I don’t think it would have made a difference. Actually, it might have confused the situation. We did fine. Linda shoots an AR better than you do,” she said.

  “That’s good to know,” he said, pausing. “So what’s preventing happy hour?”

  “We ditched the bikes and took their SUV. I didn’t want any of their buddies running us down on Route 5. I think someone in Limerick recognized us. The York County Sheriff’s Department paid us a visit this afternoon.”

  “At the compound?”

  “They buzzed the intercom from the gate, but we ignored it.”

  “Good. Trust me, Kate; the Sheriff’s Department isn’t making house calls, and they’re certainly not launching murder investigations. They’re tied up at the borders.”

  “That’s what we thought. The guys had badges, but no uniforms.”

  “Definitely not legitimate. York County sheriff’s deputies shower in their uniforms,” he said, “How were you able to see them?”

  “With the cameras at the gate,” said Kate. How else?

  “Wait. How were the cameras working?”

  “We installed the replacement cameras at the gate,” said Kate.

  “Those are wireless.”

  “Abby Walker’s a little IT wizard. She replaced the router and sorted out all of the surveillance equipment. Amazingly, she can read your hieroglyphics. Good thing she was here. Your dad was scratching his head.”

  “Motion sensors?”

  “That’s how we knew the bullshit deputies took a stroll through the woods to check out the house. Everything is up and running according to your nearly indecipherable logbooks, including the backup solar array.”

  “How-how close did they come to the house?” he uttered.

  “They stayed in the eastern tree line, opposite the garage.”

  “Why the hell would anyone announce themselves at the gate, then trespass for a look at the house?”

  “They were probably looking for the car,” said Kate.

  “Please tell me the car isn’t in the garage.”

  “The car isn’t in the garage,” she said.

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “We covered it with a tarp and boarded up the windows. Dead-bolted the garage door. We couldn’t leave it sitting on Old Middle Road—not that it took them very long to find us.”

  “Did the guys in Waterboro mention which militia group they were with?”

  “No, and they weren’t dressed in any type of uniform. They might have been full of shit. They were certainly full of beer.”

  “Maybe, but we ran across something Deliverance-like near the New Hampshire border. We’re talking sick and twisted stuff, involving a militia group. The crew we ran into was disturbingly organized.”

  “This doesn’t sound like the same thing,” said Kate.

  “Did they have out-of-state plates?”

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  The line stayed silent for a few seconds.

  “Alex, you still there?”

  “Did you set up the sensors like I indicated?” said Alex.

  “Yes, but we still have a lot of gaps in the perimeter.”

  “What about the sandbags?”

  “We filled about two hundred sandbags before the rain started, and we’ll start up again once it stops.”

  “You should have enough to build two safe boxes. I’d get started on that immediately. You’ll have to run the table saw.”

  “Linda and I decided to focus on the firing positions. We can’t repel an attack from the safe boxes,” she said, expecting some pushback.

  “Good point. You’re right. Sorry to pepper you with questions. It sounds like you have things under control.”

  “If you want to call it that. We had enough sandbags to build five positions. One in the master bedroom covering the eastern approach; two in the great room, giving us full coverage of the barn and lake approaches; one in the sitting room facing south; and the last one upstairs in the small bedroom. You can see most of the backyard and some of the barn from that one. If something goes down, we’ll herd the non-shooters into the basement with your mother.”

  “Make sure you stack some spare mags at each position. I’m sure Dad is still walking around with one mag for his Vietnam-era relic,” said Alex.

  Kate detected an ease that she didn’t expect.

  “Linda duct-taped a spare to the stock, with a quick release tab. She’s like MacGyver.”

  “Night vision?”

  “Both of the spotting scopes are sitting on the kitchen island.”

  “Sounds like you have the situation under control,” he said.

  “We’ll all feel a hell of a lot better with you guys inside the perimeter.”

  “I’m not sure how much of a difference we’ll make. Ryan needs crutches to get around, Charlie’s a refrigerator trip away from taking nitroglycerin pills, and I could probably use a wheelchair at this point. Ed and Chloe are the only fish you won’t throw back in the water.”

  “I’m sure I can find a few uses for you, if you know what I mean,” she teased.

  “I could use a visit or two from the naughty nurse,” he whispered.

  “We left that costume back at the house,” she said.

  “That’s what you think. Did you check the bottom of your rucksack?”

  Kate burst into laughter, drawing a few stares from the kitchen. Alex’s mom hovered near the kitchen table, stealing
glances at the phone.

  “I’m getting dirty looks from everyone, so stop. Charlie said you were with the marines. What’s up with that?”

  “Crazy story. One of my old platoon commanders is in charge of the reserve Marine battalion based out of Fort Devens. He kind of saved my ass down here. I’m doing some intel analysis on militia groups for him. Stuff I can do on the couch. Got us an official escort back, which is a good thing. The borders are pretty much closed.”

  “Well, I’m glad everyone is safe. Let me put your mother on before she blows a gasket. I love you. Call again when you’re in Limerick.”

  “Will do. Love you too, honey.”

  “Here’s your mother,” Kate said, nodding for Amy, who abandoned all pretense of staring at the floor and ran for the phone.

  Chapter 26

  EVENT +61:33

  Parsonsfield, Maine

  Tyler Hatfield’s eyes shifted left and right through swollen eyelids when he lifted his bloodied chin to look Eli in the face. His breathing, made difficult by several broken ribs, appeared erratic and forced. The young man slowly cleared his throat and spat a mouthful of blood onto the dirt floor.

  “You spit on me again, I’ll cut out your tongue and force feed it to your fiancée, along with a few other select cuts of meat.”

  “Eli, I swear I was gonna come find you as soon as I could. I was on my way over right after—”

  “After what? By my watch you’re about thirty-five hours late, unless the EMP fried your watch and—”

  Hatfield started to respond, but Eli cut him off.

  “And opened a black hole that suspended time!” said Eli, rushing up and pressing the flat side of a serrated knife against Hatfield’s cheek.

  “Don’t you dare lie to me, Hatfield! You deserted my brother’s unit in the middle of battle. Got them all killed!”

  “No. No,” he whimpered. “It wasn’t like that. Everyone was dead already. I had to get to the church to bring back reinforcements.”

  “They found a radio in your car, deserter,” said Eli, twisting the blade and pushing it a few centimeters into his left cheek.

  Hatfield screamed and twisted in his bindings against the thick wooden post holding up the dilapidated barn’s loft, succeeding only in digging the knife deeper into his face.

  Eli put his face next to the man’s head and hissed, “You better come clean, boy, or I’m gonna gut your bride right in front of you. Tell me everything, and don’t leave out a single detail.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry, Eli. Please don’t hurt Mary.”

  “That all depends on you,” said Eli, slipping the knife out of his cheek. “Gentlemen, I got this from here,” he said to the two uniformed militiamen standing next to the closed barn door. “Why don’t you head up to the house and grab a few cold ones. It’s hotter than hell in here. Good work bringing this piece of shit in. Hatfield and I are about to have a heart-to-heart talk. Send Mr. McCulver down in about ten minutes.”

  Eli wasn’t sure why he was congratulating these two idiots. It took them a day and a half to track down Hatfield’s fiancée’s home address and follow the trail to her sister’s house in Buxton, where Tyler and his disgustingly plain bitch were hiding. God help them if he couldn’t find better recruits. When the hatch next to the barn door slammed shut, exposing tendrils of dusty sunlight, he wiped his knife on Hatfield’s pants.

  “Start talking.”

  Several minutes later, Eli stood up from a scratched, unfinished wooden stool.

  “You’re a hundred and ten percent sure they weren’t some kind of Special Forces unit? Just regular guys you say?”

  “More than that. A hundred and twenty percent.”

  “You can’t have more than a hundred and ten percent, Tyler. Everybody knows that.”

  Hatfield continued pleading for his life, oblivious to Eli’s facetious comment.

  “I don’t know how they got the jump on Jimmy, but by the time we got there, the whole west side of the bridge was throwing lead at us. Bikers, women, everyone had a gun. You stuck your head up; you got shot.”

  “Is that so?” said Eli.

  “I swear it.”

  “I believe you, Tyler. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

  Eli checked Hatfield’s bindings, ensuring that his wrists, ankles and neck were secured to the post. Confident that his captive couldn’t execute an embarrassing escape, he scurried to the left rear corner of the barn and pulled on a thick metal ring attached to the floor. A trapdoor inched open, revealing a rectangle in the hard-packed floor. Holding onto the ring, he leaned back, and the door swung on its hinges, stopping perpendicular to the ground.

  He pulled a flashlight out of a pouch on his belt and descended the stairs. At the bottom, he activated the light and shined it in Hatfield’s fiancée’s face. Her head twisted away from the powerful beam. A muffled scream barely penetrated the thick layers of silver duct tape.

  “Damn, it’s nice and cool down here,” he said, grabbing her thick brown hair and yanking her upright.

  “You’ve been a good girl so far; don’t fuck it up now,” he said, breathing against her face.

  He meant what he said. The underground chamber had been designed as a hide site and couldn’t be locked from the outside, which presented a risk. Then again, the trapdoor weighed at least fifty pounds, which made it nearly impossible to open with hands zip-tied behind your back. Eli had kind of hoped to hear some faint knocking at some point in the afternoon. The thought of her ramming that ugly face pointlessly against the impenetrable slab made him smile. Some people have the good sense to know when they’re beat. Maybe she wasn’t as dumb as she looked.

  “Up the stairs. You try to run and I’ll kill your sister, her family, your brother, parents—everyone. You got me?”

  She nodded repeatedly, and he pushed her up into the musty barn.

  “Now, I’m gonna take this tape off your mouth, but you don’t say a word, or your husband-to-be is going to lose something important for your wedding night.”

  She nodded again, and he went to work on the tape, which proved to be difficult to remove without taking a little skin along with it. She cried and whimpered, but kept quiet.

  “Very good girl.”

  “Mary, is that you?” said Hatfield, straining his head to see around the square beam.

  “Shhhh,” said Eli, walking her right behind him, keeping her out of view.

  He slipped a combat knife out of a leather sheath attached to his belt and spun her around, jamming the seven-inch Marine KA-BAR blade to the hilt inside her stomach. His stabbing hand mechanically forced the razor-sharp knife in and out of her abdomen several more times while his left hand pulled her tightly against him. She dropped to the ground without making a sound. He nudged her onto her side with his foot, surprised to see her eyes wide open, staring lifelessly at his legs.

  “You were supposed to scream like a stuck pig!”

  “Mary? Mary!”

  “Mary’s gone,” he said, stepping in front of the post.

  Hatfield’s bloated, black and blue eyes fixated on Eli’s gore-covered knife and hand.

  “You promised not to kill her!” he managed to choke out.

  “No, I promised not to gut her in front of you,” Eli said, reversing the grip on the sticky knife handle. “I politely did it out of sight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you told her the wrong version of what happened at the bridge,” he said.

  “No. No. I told her the same thing I told you!”

  Eli buried the knife in the right side of Hatfield’s throat, stepping left to avoid the bulk of his pulsing arterial spray. “Exactly.”

  The side door sprang open, revealing a wiry, red-haired man holding a short-barreled AR. Eli’s second in command stepped through the opening.

  “Clean up in aisle one,” said Eli.

  “Shit. Both of them?” he said, closing the door and latching it behind him.

  “Unfortuna
tely, it came to that,” said Eli, wiping his blade clean on Hatfield’s pants. “We’ve got a problem.”

  “We can get these two buried where nobody’ll find ’em,” said McCulver.

  “I’m not worried about that. Hatfield confirmed what I more or less already knew. He said a black Jeep Wrangler with Maine plates approached the eastern bridge at Milton Mills right before all hell broke loose. Possibly fired point blank into the three men. It’s the only way they could have killed them that quickly. Jimmy reported the Jeep over the handheld and heightened their security posture, but the fight on the eastern bridge was over before it started. The guys on the western bridge loaded up and raced over, but were caught in the ambush. This turd never got out of his vehicle. Turned tail and left his buddies behind.”

  “Is it possible that he was captured and released? Maybe to lead the hit team here? Finding them seemed a little too easy,” said McCulver.

  “No. Those two have the combined brainpower of a trash bag, plus I worked them over hard enough to get the truth out. That’s why she had to go,” he said, pointing his knife at the bloody heap behind Hatfield. “I had to be sure.”

  “Should I get some guys to clean this up?”

  “I want to leave Hatfield up for everyone to see. This is what happens to traitors.”

  “The girl?” said McCulver.

  “String her up behind Hatfield. I want the message to be clear. You die with your brothers, or you die with your loved ones. The men we have now will form the essential core of the Maine Liberty Militia. They have to serve as an example for the new recruits. We need committed, disciplined patriots for the fight ahead.”

  “There’s a balance, Eli. I trust your judgment with my life, but remember that there’s a line. If you go too far over, you run the risk of losing people.”

  Spoken by anyone but McCulver, the words would have resulted in an immediate, excruciating death.

  “That’s why I keep you close by. To reel me in when my temper gets the best of me,” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “You and I go way back.”

  “I think we might want to bury the woman and limit Hatfield’s viewing to current members.”

  Eli fought the urge to pummel McCulver with the base of his knife. “All right. Let’s get her out of here. When we’re done, we need to start looking for that Jeep. Maine plates? Either the Special Forces team is using local government sympathizers, or they’ve been here all along.”