by G. R. Carter
People got up and moving. Mothers and fathers checked on kids, then on each other. Neighbors did the same. Every man, and a good portion of the women, held a weapon of some kind.
“Sy, you with me now?” Tucker asked.
Finally Sy regained his wits and nodded. “Yeah, Austin, I got you. Thanks for saving me.”
“I ain’t saved you yet,” he said quietly. “Getting fifty people out of here is going to be a challenge.” He looked around to make sure no one was listening too closely. “We don’t have near enough room for everyone. Not sure what I was thinking; lack of planning on my part.”
“You were thinking of defending, not evacuating,” Sy reassured him.
The older man shrugged. “Nothing left to defend here. Not now, at least. Maybe if we get some help from the National Guard or State Police we can come back. But we need to get these folks to safety.”
“Just tell me how I can help.”
Tucker nodded, glad to have the real Sy Bradshaw back. “Where you parked at?”
“At the old warehouses on the west side of town. We came in on Route 24. Seemed like a good place to stop,” Sy told him. He winced when he saw Tucker do the same.
“That’s backtracking. Won’t work. We’ll need every man we can to get these folks to the high school.”
Sy sighed. “I just piled all of us in my truck. Figured it was better to stick together in one vehicle than two. Three in the cab and eight in the bed worked well coming in.”
“But it don’t do no good going out,” Tucker said. “Nothin’ we can do about it now. You’ll have to leave your truck until later. You okay with that?”
“Honestly, I just want to get the heck out of here. Get out to the country, somewhere, anywhere but here. Feelin’ real claustrophobic in among these houses in the dark.”
“I agree with you there,” Tucker said. “All right, we’ll get them to the high school, then start trucking them out one load at a time, agreed?”
“Agreed.” Tucker moved up and spoke briefly to his son Dillon and one other man whose face Sy couldn’t make in the dim firelight that escaped around the corner of the building. Tucker was pointing towards the alley, then signaled a curve. Both nodded, slapped him on the back and took off into the dark.
Tucker walked back to Sy. “I’ll take the lead with a couple of my men. You take up the rear with yours. Try not to shoot any way but out, okay? Don’t want to get fragged here in my own hometown.”
Sy chuckled nervously as Tucker walked along the edge of the group. “Okay, everyone, get the kids inside, men to the outside. Keep your weapons pointed out. Don’t shoot unless you’re 100 percent positive it’s an inmate coming towards you. If they’re running away, don’t waste the ammo, and don’t draw attention. We’re going to be moving quickly. Let’s go.”
Tucker moved quickly to the front, flanked by two men.
“Glad you could make it,” a familiar voice said to Sy in the night.
Sy stared at a face smiling in the dark, then recognized his friend from the FS fuel station. “Hey, Jeremiah. Man, I’m glad you’re okay. Your family?”
“Wife and kids are in the group. Tucker came for us first,” Jeremiah told him.
Sy smiled at him. Tucker always tried to be the hardass, but once more he’d stepped in to help those in need.
“Hey, Sy, you better get a bandage for that ear. Man, it looks terrible.”
Sy reached up and gently touched the ear. Blood was already crusting. With Jeremiah’s reminder, it was also now throbbing.
Jeremiah saw his friend’s pain and gave him an understanding smile. “It was good of you to come here and give a hand. Would have been a lot safer for all of you to stay home. Nobody woulda blamed you.”
“Happy to be helping. Be happier when we get everybody out. You’re welcome to come stay at the lodge until things settle down.”
“You sure? I heard the place was pretty full.”
They were walking now, slower than the rest to give some room between the main pack and the rear guard.
“Never too full for friends,” Sy assured him.
Jeremiah gave him a slap on the shoulder. “I’ll pay you back. If that fuel you guys wanted is still around tomorrow, your friend can have every gallon of it. I don’t care what the guys from the prison say…” Jeremiah caught himself mid-thought. “I guess it doesn’t really matter now; doubt they’ll be in for another load. I hope Red and his guys are okay.”
“Can’t imagine what it must be like for the guards out there.”
“I got a second cousin works out there. Wife’s first cousin, too. Maybe they’re holding out in a secure place. They gotta have a bunker or something out there, right?” Jeremiah asked.
Sy didn’t know how to answer and they continued for several blocks in silence.
Movement caught Sy’s eye. Something in the bushes next to a little ranch style house where one of his high school friends once lived. He nodded his head over towards it, signaling to Jeremiah what he saw.
Jeremiah looked over and stopped. Without a word, he waved his hand. A shadow stepped out and ran over to them, grabbing hold of Jeremiah and hugging him. “Thank God you’re here,” the woman said. “I just didn’t know what to do.” She was sobbing.
Folks at the back of the main group stopped to watch, but Sy waved them on to keep going.
The woman seemed torn, wanting to go join, to see if she spotted a familiar face, but something stopped her. “We’ve seen a few people running past. We couldn’t tell who they were, just peeking through the corner of the window.
“Then your group came by,” she continued. “Women and children in the group, walking past calmly, figured it’d be safe to check it out up close.”
“We’ll be glad to help you,” Jeremiah told her. “But we’ve got to keep moving. Why don’t you both go on up with the rest? We’re just the rear guard.”
The woman stepped back. “Wait, no…I can’t do that. My mom’s inside. She’s on bed rest. I can’t move her.”
Sy and Jeremiah shared a confused look. Neither had an answer.
Sy looked up at the pack now beginning to move away. He hoped Tucker would show up and give him the answer. But he already knew what the answer had to be.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But we got to get these folks to safety. We can try and come back for her once we’ve reached the high school.”
The woman started to cry. “My husband should have been here by now. He'd never leave me alone like this if he was okay.”
“I’m really sorry,” Jeremiah said again. He looked nervously at the rapidly disappearing main group.
“Go on with your family, buddy. I’ll be right along,” Sy told him. Jeremiah started to argue, but Sy insisted. The urge to protect his family overcame all else, and he walked away.
The woman had her face buried in her hands. “Maybe we can carry her?” Sy asked.
She looked up and shook her head. “Moving would probably kill her. She’s really weak. Just fell a few days ago. She’s got a couple broken ribs. Doctors said if she fell again it could puncture her lung.” She was still shaking her head, angrier now. “If she could have stayed in the hospital…Medicare made her leave. We couldn’t afford a nursing home, so we brought her here.”
“Might have been for the best. Not sure how well the nursing home is faring without electricity,” Sy said. He felt a little guilty at his first thought of anyone stuck in a place like that. No light, maybe no food, who knows if the caretakers would even show up…he shivered. “Look, ma’am, I got to get going. I’m not sure what to tell you about your mom.” He looked up the street, then back at the couple. “I promise you, though, we will come back just as soon as we can.”
She nodded and thanked him.
Sy turned to go then stopped. “One more thing. If you do figure out how to move her, we’re going to be at the high school, okay? We’re going to be giving folks a ride out of town. Okay?”
She didn’t answ
er. She just took one dejected step after another towards her house.
Sy waited longer than he should have, watching her walk back. Frustration turned to anger. Anger at whoever let the electricity fail, at the prison for letting those inmates out, at the inmates themselves for acting like animals instead of people. Finally, he started trotting back up the street, relieved when he saw the tail end of the group again.
“Couldn’t convince her to come?” Jeremiah asked as Sy slowed next to him.
Sy didn’t answer.
“Wasn’t nothing you could do, Sy,” he offered.
“I guess.”
At the next block, they turned right. Sy and Jeremiah stopped to allow everyone to make the corner, then followed along.
Tucker appeared out of the dark. “I told the group to keep going without me,” he said, looking over Sy’s shoulder back down the street from where they’d come. “But I’m sending a couple fellas to double back. Feel like we’re being followed.”
Sy wanted to tell Tucker about the woman they’d left behind. He wanted to be one of the men to double back so he’d have an excuse to check in on her.
Before Sy could bring it up, Tucker continued. “I just wanted to let you know, so you didn’t get spooked when they rejoin us. You guys are doing good. Keep it up.”
With that he was gone again. Sy began walking again, so did Jeremiah, both in silence. He prayed for the woman, for her elderly mother lying there in the dark. Then, for the first time since he could remember, he prayed for himself.
Near Downtown Mt. Sterling
Evening of the Fifth Day
Each step was more of a struggle for Red Morton. The ever-present threat of lunatic inmates trying to attack them hung over his head; they'd put two down on their walk already. Mixed with physical exhaustion from being up two days straight and the pain of losing all but a handful of his guards, the load was nearly too much for him to bear.
He kept waiting for McCoy to ask him why he was leading Heath Bohrmann’s group in the opposite direction of the Ridgeview Lodge. He was glad he didn’t ask; he didn’t know how to tell McCoy that before fulfilling his promise to help Bohrmann find someone he had another promise to keep.
“You sure you know where you're goin', Yank?” Bohrmann asked for the third time since they'd left the prison. “Don't really fancy havin' to wander into town with the sun comin' up.”
Bohrmann was right about that. The horizon was starting to take on just a slightly different color, the telltale sign that the darkest of the night had now passed.
“Sure. I'm just going to stop by and grab someone who used to work there. She'll help us get in once we've arrived. Otherwise, they get a little trigger-happy out there with strangers,” Morton said, as cheerfully as he could muster.
It wasn't enough. Bohrmann stopped walking. “Wasn't the deal, Yank. What are you tryin' to pull?”
Morton was surprised to find he wasn't scared. He should have been—Bohrmann could likely kill him and all his men before they could get a shot off of their own. But then again, maybe not. Besides, Morton was gambling these men didn't spill blood unless it was necessary.
He answered back in the same sergeant voice he used with subordinates. “It certainly was the deal, Mr. Bohrmann. I agreed to take you to the lodge. I did not say what route I would take, nor how I intended to best accomplish it. As you said yourself, time is wasting. Shall we continue to walk, or continue to argue? I can do either.”
Bohrmann said nothing. He simply whistled softly through his teeth. Out of the shadows, his squad gathered around him.
Morton could feel his own men beginning to gather, eyes locked on the dangerous group.
Without another word or explanation, Bohrmann’s squad disappeared together through a backyard. Morton waited for them to reappear. As the seconds ticked by, McCoy said, “Sarge, uh, I don't think they're coming back.”
More seconds ticked past. “Let's go,” Morton finally said. “We're almost there.”
Two more blocks and they arrived at his destination. A little ranch-style house sat along the street, not so much as a candle light inside. He wondered if she was home; maybe he'd gambled with their lives and lost valuable allies for nothing.
He knocked gently as his Eels spread out and took cover. McCoy was beside him, watching out over the yard. He knocked again.
“I've got a gun,” he heard faintly. A sweet voice trying to act tough repeated, “I've got a gun and I know how to use it.”
“Heather, Heather, it's me, Red Morton,” he said, as loud as he felt comfortable. He heard a deadbolt slide open and the door cracked.
“Red, is that really you? Where's Troy?”
“He's back at the prison. He sent us out to help you,” Morton answered. He felt McCoy's eyes glance over to him. He shrugged; it wasn't really a lie on either count.
The door came open further. “How in the world did you make it here? What’s happening? Is everybody okay?”
Morton walked up the wooden stairs and into the screened-in front porch. “I know you've got a lot of questions, but we've got to get you out of here. It's not safe in town. I doubt if it will be any better in the daylight.”
“Red, I can't leave. My mother can't be moved, Troy knows that. Why would he send you here?” she asked.
There was just enough light now for her to see Morton's face, to recognize small pools of tears growing in the corner of his eyes. She sat down on a piece of faux-wicker furniture they'd proudly placed on the porch for summer nights. It was their favorite spot to sit and talk about their day. Heather Watson took a deep breath to fight off her tears.
“I knew something was wrong. When those people started running down the street…then some nice people stopped by and tried to get me to leave town with them…I knew it was bad. Troy would have been here by now if he could. He'd never leave me alone…” The tears started.
Morton sat down beside her. “He didn't leave you alone, Heather. He held on just long enough to make sure we would keep you safe. So he's still watching over you, okay?”
The words had little effect on her, but she smoothed out her long cotton skirt and tried to be brave. “I'm sorry you came all this way, Red. I hope you didn't have too much trouble. But I can't leave Mom. You should probably get back to the prison. I'm sure they need you there worse than I do.”
“Heather, I don't think you understand. The prison's gone. All that's left is the men I have gathered right now.”
She looked at him with terror in her eyes. “All those inmates? You mean they're all loose?”
“Almost all…well, it might be all by now. Troy kept them from getting into our weapons, but they're still running free,” Morton told her.
He could see confusion; she was having trouble comprehending how the entire prison could be overrun. Morton tried to get her thinking again. “You mentioned someone tried to get you to leave. They were here? Did they have a vehicle?”
She still said nothing.
“Heather, leave to where? Where were they going?”
“Bradshaw. Um, Sy Bradshaw. Went to school with my boys, I don’t think he recognized me, but super nice anyway. He has a hunting lodge southwest of town. Had a bunch of folks from here in town. They were taking everyone out to his place.”
Morton knew the Bradshaws. His son had gone to school with Sy just like the Watsons’ boys. Just like everyone went to school together in Brown County.
Two and two finally came together. Bohrmann's men had been heading out to Ridgeview Lodge. But the owner of the lodge was here in town shepherding people out. There had to be a connection.
“So Sy was taking them to the lodge in a truck?” Morton asked.
“Not yet. They were escorting everyone who wanted to leave out to the high school first. Said they had some vehicles stashed there. They'd be trucking people out of there all night, and he hoped we'd come, too.” Something clicked in her mind and she started quietly sobbing again. “I can't, Mom's all I've got left now
.”
“The high school's not that far,” Morton said to her. “I've got ten men. We can carry your mom. It's her best chance. Heather, I don't know what else to tell you, those inmates are killing people. Dragging people from their homes, worse than that even…”
She just shook her head. “I can't.”
Morton tried not to get angry at Heather. He would probably be doing the same thing in her shoes. He sighed. “Okay.”
He stood up and went to the door. “McCoy, I need you to get the guys to form a perimeter around the house. Tell them absolutely no shots fired unless they are in direct physical danger. Then get one guy in here with Heather. I'm going up on the roof to see if I can get some idea of what's happening.”
McCoy nodded and went to work.
“Red, what do you think you're doing?” Heather asked.
“I promised Troy we'd keep you safe. If you're not leaving, then neither are we.”
“But you can't. You said yourself it's too dangerous.”
Morton shrugged. “After tonight, I'm not sure…” He didn't finish the thought. Actually, that abbreviated phrase seemed to sum up pretty well how he felt.
Morton left her standing there on the porch. When McCoy got back, he had one more order. “Get our fastest guy. Tell him to run over to the high school quick as he can. See if Sy Bradshaw and his group are still there. Tell him what we've seen, and about the situation here. Beg him to bring whatever vehicle he has, or see if they'll wait until I can talk Heather into leaving. Okay?”
“I'll go myself, Sarge. I'm probably the best runner we've got.”
Morton started to argue. He was worried about all their safety, but McCoy reminded him so much of his own boy…he was right, McCoy probably was the guy most likely to make it to the high school. Morton nodded sharply and McCoy took off at fast jog.
