by G. R. Carter
Demetrius’s smile turned to a glare. “You’re going to regret that,” he hissed.
“I regret nothing. The Creator forgives me.”
Demetrius’s look darkened even more. “Your Creator has abandoned you. He left you to die with the rest of humanity. Now my kind will rule the earth.”
Wasson considered that for a moment. That was well within his belief system – that evil might rule the earth, not that he was abandoned. “No, I believe your kind has always ruled the earth. But that is where you will stay. I shall go live with my Father someday. But only after I send you back where you belong.”
With that he walked over to the door and out into the hallway. He pulled the door shut and made his way down the stairs and into the living room. Levi Marshall and Liam Oliver each stood at different windows, anxiously looking out for any approaching threat.
“Still no sign of him?” Wasson asked the pair.
Each simply shook their head. Concern for Father Steve was growing in all of them. He’d be a tough man to kill, but they feared a worse fate than death for him.
“No witnesses,” Levi said. “We’ve asked everyone.”
“What does Lori Hamilton say?” Wasson asked.
“She says keep looking. She can’t break many of her people away from guard duty to look. There’s trouble stirring in the tribes. You can feel it,” Oliver said.
“Perhaps I should not have captured this man. I believe we have a tiger by the tail,” Wasson said. His use of an analogy was as rare as his self-doubt.
Oliver and Levi looked at each other with concern. If Wasson was unsure what to do…
“Does Lori Hamilton wish to see our prisoner?”
Oliver nodded. “She does, but she’s afraid if she comes here, it will attract attention. But here’s the kicker: she said Darwin King and his sons are missing now, too.”
Wasson looked troubled. “I had no knowledge of this. I did not cause these men to disappear. This is foreboding.” He walked towards the door. “I shall go and see Lori Hamilton. We must decide immediately what our course will be. The Founder requires knowledge of all that is occurring, and my Tracker brothers will be here by tonight. We were asked to go to the White City. I must know if that is still our primary mission.”
He left Oliver and Levi to watch the ominous prisoner, standing silent in their concern.
*****
Wasson moved from house to tree, from tree to bush, then bush to house. He made a point to never be seen when traveling – constant practice to keep him sharp. Today, the threat was real.
When he was within a hundred yards of the brick building Lori Hamilton used as her headquarters, Wasson noticed something out of place. An open lot in a normally bustling tent city housing refugees was quiet. He paused for a moment, watching for any signs of movement. No children ran up and down the rows of canvas enclosures, no open fires burned. A few wafts of smoke still arose from smoldering breakfast fires, but clearly nothing was tended or stoked.
He crouched a little lower now, wondering if he was being watched. From his vantage point he could see two sides of Lori Hamilton’s building. There were Silver Shields perched on top, scanning the streets. Most wouldn’t have been able to pick them out, but Wasson could see the telltale signs. What he couldn’t tell was if they also were alarmed. If not, he’d be surprised. Lori’s guards always suspected something, to their credit.
Wasson moved his scan further down the street, then towards the bridge. No sign of breach at the gates guarding the city’s entrance. Then he looked back behind him, trying to pick up as much of his own trail as he could. No sign there either.
As he moved his head around to take another look at downtown, he finally saw them. They were moving slowly across the frozen river, underneath the bridge. A few…no, a handful…no, many made their way a step at a time. They were covered in white cloth, but just enough grays browns and blacks poked through from underneath to give Wasson the sense of motion.
Wasson ran through the scenarios in his mind. Obviously, someone was down at the riverbank opening the sea wall that protected the town from a flood-stage river. The same wall that had protected the town from raiders crossing the river via boat. He could get there and close it, but eventually even he would be overcome. There was only one chance.
He took off at a dead sprint now, not caring if anyone saw him. He’d have to hope Lori’s snipers on top of the headquarters building would recognize him.
Clearly, they did, for no bullets found him in his mad dash across the open street. Without being winded, he pounded on the door, finally being let in by a Silver Shield. “Tell Lori Hamilton we must drop the bridge!” he shouted, his voice cracking with the unusual strain.
The confused look on the young man’s face delayed Wasson only a moment. He burst through to the back room serving as Lori’s office. He was closely followed by two Silver Shields, unsure whether to shoot a man running towards their leader – but also a man they knew to be totally loyal to that same woman.
Lori was already up and moving to the door when Wasson came in. He didn’t need to repeat himself. “You better have a good explanation for wanting to destroy my bridge, Wasson of Saline.”
“The Caliphate attacks!”
“We haven’t received any alarms,” she replied. “The bridges are secure.”
“They cross beneath!” he pleaded.
Lori folded her arms. “Crap,” she muttered. “I should have thought of that.” She started to ask a question, then worked the problem in her head. “The only way to stop them is to crack up the river.”
She turned and looked at Wasson, her face creased in doubt and concern. “All those men on the bridge gates…”
“They are doomed anyway. If the Caliphate gets a foothold, their first move will be to take the bridges. There is no escape for them now,” he assured her.
Without another word, she moved to the closet where the master switch was located. She turned an old-fashioned safe dial, then spun a ship’s-style wheel to swing open the massive door. She stepped inside and pushed down a plunger sitting on an elevated pedestal.
Everyone waited for a rumbling earthquake to follow the discharge of several thousand pounds of high explosive.
Nothing happened.
Lori pulled up and then pushed down the plunger again.
Still nothing. She checked the electrical leads into the back of the box. Each screw was turned tight, with good contact on the wires.
One of the Silver Shields ran into the office. “We got unfriendlies on the riverbank,” she said calmly. To emphasize the point, a metallic stuttering sound vibrated the building. For a moment, Lori hoped it was the bridge, then realized it was the M60 machine gun they’d found in the local American Legion hall. Levi had painstakingly restored it as a gift to her for giving the Buckles a chance at a new life here in Beardstown. So much for that.
Her mind retraced the wiring schematics for the detonators, wondering where it might have failed. No, it was cut, she thought.
Wasson broke her train of thought. “Lori Hamilton, we need to get you to the fortresses.”
Lori began to argue, but Wasson was right. No use in valiant last stands here. Someone had to coordinate their counterattack.
Wasson hesitated. “What is it?” Lori asked.
“Mr. Marshall and Captain Oliver are still at their residence with our prisoner. I’m afraid they will be trapped by the enemy.”
Lori fought to control her own emotions. The thought of losing Liam… She surprised herself with the indecision, especially since she’d just tried to blow up a bridge containing several of her men. Why did she hesitate now when faced with losing one? She realized this was one of those moments Alex always spoke of: the choice between what was important personally, and what was for the good of them all. She didn’t want to have to choose; it felt more than unfair, it felt wrong.
The words were hollow when she finally spoke. “They’re tough men,” she said, assuring h
erself as much as Wasson. “They’ve been through bad spots, they’ll figure it out.”
“We got to go,” the leader of Lori’s detail shouted from outside the door. “Roof says we got jijis inbound.”
With a nod, Wasson took off through the back door to scout out a path, followed closely by Lori and all but one of her Silver Shields. Lori didn’t ask when he’d be following along. She knew at least one would stay behind with the M60 and buy them as much time as possible to make their escape. The mechanical bark and clatter from the roof confirmed the gunner would make it costly to follow Lori’s group.
Pride swelled along with sorrow. She cleared her head. I’ll make it worth it for him, she assured herself.
One thing was certain: Beardstown would never surrender. This was the attack they’d been fearing. All they had to do was hold out long enough for help to arrive.
Chapter Eighteen
Northeast Oklahoma
Southern Front - ARK Territory
“Let me guess, you have me outnumbered and surrounded?” Essie asked sarcastically.
“Yes, ma’am. Well, I guess that’s if’n you didn’t crash with the rest of your squadron hereabouts,” camo man replied playfully. Essie thought she caught a glimpse of mischief in the young man’s emerald eyes – the only splash of color highlighted amongst smeared earth tones.
“Great. Captured by comedians,” she mumbled. Her arm throbbed but she hesitated to make a move to rub it.
“How’s that, ma’am?” he asked.
Essie noticed he still hadn’t lowered his rifle. Her peripheral vision also detected two other similarly armed men now on either side of the plane. That makes a squad of at least five, she thought.
“Nothing. I was just wondering what you all intended to do with me. That is, if I decide to surrender.”
“Well, ma’am, I’m not rightly sure. See, we typically don’t take prisoners.”
Essie winced. She tried not to show any reaction, but her pulse pounded in her ears.
He continued, matter-of-factly: “We’re more a seek-and-destroy-type group.”
She attempted her best sarcastic smile. “Oh, well, I guess I probably shouldn’t surrender then.”
“Yes – I mean no – I mean, yes, ma’am, you should surrender,” the soldier laughed. “Our orders are to help friendlies wherever we find them. I reckon since you just shot down a bunch of tweakers, ya’ll must be friendlies.”
Essie weighed her very limited options. If they wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. If they wanted something else…
Camo man’s language took her mind off the more unpleasant possibilities. “Tweakers?” she asked.
“Yeah. Soldiers of the cartels. All of ‘em are sky high on the junk they take – tweakin’, ya know? Bosses keep ‘em that way so they’re not afraid to die. You’ll know it if you ever get face-to-face with one. Name just sorta stuck.”
“I thought they called themselves Nuevo Tejanos.”
There was a pause before he replied. “Don’t rightly care what they call themselves, ma’am,” he said with a low rumble. The otherwise pleasant young man – she could see now he was about her age – turned very serious. “But they sure don’t get to call themselves nothin’ with Texas in the name.”
Way to offend the guys with the guns. How about you talk a little less? she scolded herself. “My apologies,” she said sincerely. “I meant no offense. That’s just how ARK referred to them. I’ll remember from now on. Tweakers.”
Camo man’s easy smile returned. “I was guessin’ you might be with ARK, but I don’t recognize the symbols on this here airplane. Care to explain?”
“That depends,” Essie replied. “You care to lower those weapons? I’m sure you’re handy with them, but I’d hate to see something bad happen. Accidents can kill friendlies, too, right?”
To her relief, he stood up, taking a casual stance. The barrel of his weapon went down to a diagonal. It was still capable of being back in position and killing her before she could pull her own weapon, but at least the immediate threat was gone.
“Thank you, ah…what should I call you?” she asked as she climbed from underneath the plane. She was careful to do it smoothly and with both hands in clear sight.
“You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine,” he said, still wearing the smile.
“Fair enough. My name is Esther Anne Hamilton. My friends and family call me Essie, but you can stick with Esther for now,” she said with a smirk.
“Alright, Essie,” camo man grinned. “First off, may I suggest you buckle your trousers? I’m afraid I can’t offer to turn my back while you do so, but I will try not to stare.”
Cold air swirling around the prairie turned her blush an even darker shade. She quickly fumbled with the buckle on her belt. “I apologize if I offended your sensibilities,” she spat. “I was in a bit of hurry to get down off that plane.”
“Yes, ma’am, we noticed that too,” he said, trying for all his might not to laugh.
Essie stuck her tongue out at the man she’d met only a few moments before, and who would probably still kill her if it suited his mission. Once everything was fastened back the way it was supposed to be, she threw up her hands. “Now that we’re quite familiar, how about that name I was promised?” she demanded.
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” he said as he gathered himself. “My name is Lieutenant Nelson Lowery, Ranger in the armed forces of the Republic of Texas. Now I do hope you end up being a friendly, because an enemy who knows that we’re here…well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be able to allow that kind of info to get out.”
Essie nodded while she pulled up maps of the old United States in her head. North American geography had been one of her strong points when studying at Old Main Academy. Being the Founder’s sister alone wasn’t enough for good grades, and she’d never have heard the end of it from either big brother if she hadn’t done well at her studies. Besides, pilots loved maps.
“Texas, huh? You boys are quite some ways away from home. Mind telling me what you’re doing out here?”
“No, ma’am, not at all. Long as you tell us where home might be for you. Let’s do a little quid pro quo here. And if’n you’d be so kind, maybe you could hurry a little? Those shots that caused you to grab grass in such a rush were liable to draw other attention.”
“I’m surprised you’d be so loud as to be heard,” she said. Everything Martin Fredericks had told her about special forces operators suggested a near-religious reverence for silence.
“Oh, no, ma’am. That wasn’t us. Fellers that got those shots off were on their way here to find you. They were just firing blind into the grass when Dwayne here,” he jabbed a thumb towards one of his men, “started dropping them.” Somehow the man’s smile got bigger. “You’ll never hear our shots before the lights go out.”
Essie gulped involuntarily. She wasn’t easily frightened or impressed. These men caused her to feel a little of both.
Lieutenant Lowery repeated his question. “Now, if you’d please tell us just what outfit you belong to, I’d be obliged to you.”
Essie explained the part of the story relevant to the situation, trying to make it as brief as possible for the sake of moving out of an area likely teeming with what Lowery had called “unfriendlies”.
When she was finished, Ranger Lowery looked at his comrades, then back to Essie.
“Quite a tale you tell there, Miss Hamilton,” one of the men said to her. She hadn’t caught his name yet.
“I’ve got a lot more stories than that. But if you don’t mind, I’m kind of interested in getting back to Independence…” Essie stopped. She hadn’t told them quite everything, especially where ARK’s underground base was. Stupid, she chastised herself. She’d allowed herself to become familiar with men of still unconfirmed intentions.
Lowery just smiled. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I won’t tell them how I found out. And as for your next thought, because it would be my next thought,
we are here to help, not hurt your cause.”
The one called Dwayne laughed at her. “Looks like ya’ll ain’t got so much to lose by gambling we can help ya.” He nodded over to Essie’s ruined airplane. “Unless you got lots more of those where you’re from.”
Essie didn’t bother to lie; for better or worse, she was all in with this crew now. “No, we’re about down to the nubs. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold out.”
The five men now gathered around, checking weapons and adjusting gear. One of them handed Essie a canteen, which she gulped with a grateful nod. Lowery glanced down at her sidearm. “You got anything bigger than that in the airplane?”
Essie shook her head.
“Okey-dokey, best stick close to us, then. That’s a fine sidearm to knock down tweakers, but it ain’t much good against big kitties,” he said.
There were only four Rangers standing with her now. The other had disappeared in the tall grass already.
“Okay,” Lowery said to Essie with a wave. “Follow me.”
*****
Essie and the Texas Rangers hadn’t gone far through the swaying grass when Lowery’s hand went in the air with a clenched fist. Essie wasn’t an infantryman, but she’d seen enough action to know what the gesture meant; she’d seen Fredericks’ Americans use it before, too.
Each squad member crouched down, weapons pointed in different directions. Essie reached for her own sidearm, sorry now she hadn’t been carrying it in her hand.
One by one the Texans disappeared into the tall grass. Lowery stayed with Essie, completely still except for his eyes moving back and forth. Essie wasn’t sure what he could see through the dense growth. She finally realized he wasn’t looking, he was listening.
Lowery turned one-quarter as a Ranger reappeared.
“Fire about 800 yards out to the west. One group of tweakers north, one east,” she heard the man say. Acrid smoke soon filled their nostrils, confirming his report of fire. Essie thought about asking how quickly the fire was moving, but decided to stay quiet.
