by Ken Benton
Probably nowhere near as weird as Joseph had gone in the eyes of his schoolmates. He did attend high school for a bit. Ninth grade was fun, until it wasn’t. They tried to send him to a continuation school after he stopped going. Joseph checked that out, too. And he made a few friends there as well.
Not good friends. Not friends that were worth having. Temporary friends. Guys that would hang out with anyone who wanted to get high, especially if you were the one with the weed. Joseph never had any weed. He was, however, skilled at shoplifting, and would frequently steal liquor bottles from the market. That always paid his price of admission in the social circles he attempted to infiltrate.
But none of those guys could be thought of as true friends. If Joseph tried to contact any of them today, they would likely pretend to be someone else. As far as Joseph could remember, Ricky Bernhardt had been his only real friend, ever. Joseph wondered how Ricky would react if Joseph somehow tracked him down.
Strange to be thinking of Ricky today. Chad was a nice enough guy. He even stood up for Joseph on one or two issues. That was good enough for Joseph, and all it took to buy his loyalty. The truth was Joseph didn’t care about this fed bitch. She was just doing her job, and Joseph hadn’t been particularly attached to Lanny.
But Chad had been. So when Chad backed Joseph after Lanny died, Joseph decided he would back Chad. Hell, the only reason they were all here was because Joseph discovered where the fed bitch was staying—something he reported solely for Chad’s benefit. Funny how he wanted to make Chad happy. Was Joseph hoping to step in as Lanny’s replacement? The thought made him laugh out loud.
A shot fired from the side of the barn over his head in response. He kissed the dirt again.
Yes, maybe that was it. Maybe Joseph simply desired a close friend, and would do anything in that pursuit—even hunt down a Secret Service agent for a revenge killing. What did it matter?
But Chad was gone now, too. Damn it all to hell. Becoming a career criminal might not be the best choice if having close friends is important.
Joseph looked out to the open ground again. There was Chad’s body, still lifeless. The one guy who might have become a real friend, like Ricky Bernhardt.
Farther across the yard he could see Duncan and Garth. They were both still crouched behind the chicken coop.
A short distance in front of the coop lay another dead homeowner, at least from all appearances. An old guy. Unfortunately for Chad, an old guy who was handy with a rifle. But not handy enough to defend against four intruders at once.
And then the fed bitch showed up, out of nowhere. Where the devil did she come from? On one hand, it was what they wanted. The purpose of taking this property was to set an ambush and wait for her. But she was supposed to return tonight. That’s what tape-face next door said. The black Tahoe would leave in the mornings and come back at night.
She came back way too soon today. And somehow she now had the three of them pinned down—Duncan and Garth at the chicken coop, and Joseph behind the potato mound. All three of them, all at once, held at bay. Every time any of them tried to get a shot at her, she was blazing on the trigger. This chick was pretty good.
Joseph realized he was in the best position to try and make a run for it. In fact, the odds seemed to favor his escape. With two over there and one here, she should logically be more interested in keeping the two. Joseph also had a much shorter run to cover than Duncan and Garth. Forty yards behind him a thick patch of woods beckoned, which extended all the way up the local mountains. How much ammo would she even waste on him if he made a break for it?
Of course, he wouldn’t be scoring any points with Duncan if he did that. Unless maybe he circled back around to help from the front. But Duncan would most likely assume he was abandoning them. Joseph couldn’t stand the idea of Duncan thinking that, even for a few minutes. Besides, by the time Joseph circled around the battle might be over, one way or another. If that happened, whichever way it ended, Joseph would be branded a coward.
Then there was Garth. Joseph still hadn’t figured out if he and Duncan were prior acquaintances or not. Bet Garth was sorry he got mixed up in all this, whether they were or not. But the promise of a cut from a large cache of gold was an enticing prospect, especially now. The smaller portion was already stashed away in Garth’s house. That alone was a considerable score—but still paltry compared to what lay buried a few short miles away. Still, if Garth were the only one to get away at this juncture, he’d be in pretty good shape. Joseph wondered if the same thought was crossing Garth’s mind right about now.
The sound of a car coming up the driveway shook Joseph from his thoughts. He lifted his head.
He didn’t see a car, but the resulting gunfire confirmed his suspicion. The fed bitch wasn’t prone to wasting ammo at this point. Her abrupt flurry of shots at both the chicken coop and the potato mound weren’t as well-aimed. They seemed desperate. She was obviously concerned about the arriving vehicle, probably worried it would divert her attention enough to allow her suspects a chance of escape.
Joseph looked over to the coop. Duncan and Garth were suddenly more animated. They must have assessed the situation the same way Joseph did. This would be their chance. They had now edged their way to the far side of their cover and looked poised to make a break for it, back to the neighboring house. That’s where the bikes were. If they were to get away, that’s the direction they needed to run. If only they had a distraction.
Joseph, unfortunately, was cut off from that route. Too far away. His best bet was to run for the woods behind him. But if he did that, Duncan and Garth might not get their chance.
Joseph looked back at Chad’s body. Poor Chad. Losing him really sucked. Joseph knew what he wanted to do now. He just needed to determine the right moment to do it.
A voice called from the driveway: “Hannah!”
That was the signal Joseph wanted. Without further ado, he stood and ran to his right, towards the barn, firing his pistol as he went. To his left, in the corner of his vision, he thought he saw two figures breaking across the far side of the yard. Joseph was giving them cover. He didn’t take the cowardly way out. He made the supportive move.
It turned out to be the last move Joseph would ever make. He actually got quite close to the barn before he was cut down. The fed bitch came out in the open and showed herself. Joseph even got a clear shot off at her, but he was running. She was still. Three slugs entered his chest before he even heard the shots. Then he was on the ground.
By the pain and tightness in his chest, Joseph knew he wouldn’t be drawing another breath. Before his vision faded he saw his two companions running in the far distance. Duncan was getting away. Joseph knew he had finally earned his respect. Things would be different between them now. If only…
* * *
The gunfire made Malcolm call for Hannah again with increased urgency. He held the assault rifle at the ready.
This time she responded. “Malcolm, go back! Federal business!”
Federal business? Was she freaking joking? Malcolm ran forward, leaving Ryan in the car.
He stopped running when he came to the body on the ground. It took three seconds before it registered in Malcolm’s mind that it was Spence. Oh, for the love of God, no.
“Hannah!” Malcolm yelled again. He crouched down, cradling the AR-15 over his knees, and placed two fingers on Spence’s neck. The flesh was still warm, but Malcolm saw the gunshot wound in his chest. It looked bad. Several yards away lay his Winchester 30/30.
Hannah appeared from the far side of the barn. “Malcolm, you shouldn’t be here.” She began jogging across the yard.
“What do you mean I shouldn’t be here? What the hell happened?”
Hannah didn’t answer. She only increased her pace.
“Honey, stop!”
Hannah stopped, stood in place, and looked back and forth between Malcolm and the far side of the property several times. She acted flustered and indecisive.
“Sp
ence is still alive,” Malcolm said. “I’m getting a pulse. We need to get him help, fast.”
At that moment the sound of two motorcycles starting thundered from next door. Hannah let loose with a barrage of cursing the likes of which Malcolm had never heard before. But, she did come back to Malcolm’s side.
“Where’s Ryan?” was all she said.
“In the truck. I’m going to need your help.”
“Can you and Ryan get Spence to an emergency room? I have to stop those motorcycles.”
“Ryan’s been shot, too. Not as bad. In the shoulder. We had trouble with some squatters. Now we need to get both of them to a doctor, fast. Honey, I need your help.”
“Dammit!” Hannah shouted with resignation. “All right, go get the truck.”
Malcolm sprinted back to the driveway. Ryan had managed to get out of the car. Malcolm carefully pushed him back inside. He then pulled the truck up to Hannah and Spence, ignoring Ryan’s requests for an explanation. But when Ryan saw Hannah and Spence, he stopped asking and formed an expression of great despair.
Malcolm noticed the motorcycle sounds moving off to the mountains in the east, away from the roads.
“Good,” Hannah muttered as she helped lift Spence into the backseat of the SUV. “It’ll take them a long time to get back that way.”
It dawned on Malcolm that the motorcycles from next door must be the attackers who shot Spence. And Hannah somehow knew where they were going.
Hannah sat in the backseat with Spence’s head on her lap, doing what she could to try and control any further bleeding while Malcolm drove. Malcolm purposefully sped up when he passed the Tahoe. No way was he letting his wife out to chase the motorcyclists in the mountains without him. Hannah voiced no objections, but Malcolm could physically feel her yearning as they passed her car.
“Keep taking care of Spence, honey.”
“I’m trying, Malcolm. He’s hit bad. Oh, come on, Spence. Hang in there. Just hang in there. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Spence. This shouldn’t have happened to you. It’s my fault. I never should have stayed at your house. I shouldn’t even be here.”
“What do you mean your fault?” Malcolm asked. “Honey, who are those people?” He eyed her in the rear view mirror.
Hannah hesitated, looking out to the eastern mountains. Finally she said, “They’re my white whale.”
Ryan gave directions to the medical center through clenched teeth, holding on to his shoulder bandage with his right hand. They arrived in a matter of minutes.
Malcolm parked along a red curve and ran inside to the front desk. The receptionist asked if he had an appointment, and looked confused when Malcolm tried to explain the situation.
“Sir, this is a general practitioner office, not an emergency room. The closest ER is in Parkersburg.”
“I need help, now!” Malcolm exclaimed. “I have two people in my car with gunshot wounds. And my wife is a federal agent—she’s with them.”
The receptionist shook her head and began to object again, but a nurse who happened to be nearby overheard and ran over.
“Call the paramedics, Sonya. Sir, where’s your car?”
“Right out front.”
The nurse grabbed a medical bag and followed Malcolm outside.
Half an hour later, an ambulance carrying Spence left the parking lot for Parkersburg. Five minutes after that, a second one carrying Ryan did the same.
“Thanks,” Malcolm said to the nurse. “Thanks a lot.”
“Your friend Ryan should be okay,” she said.
“What about my other friend?”
“He’s critical, sweetie. They’ll do the best they can…”
“Without you, he’d probably be dead already,” Malcolm said. “I appreciate everything you did.”
The nursed nodded sympathetically and went back inside. Malcolm wanted nothing more than to follow the ambulances to the Parkersburg hospital, but there was a new problem: the three county sheriff vehicles that now surrounded Spence’s 4-Runner. Malcolm joined Hannah, who was now engaged in an uncomfortable conversation with one of the sheriff deputies.
“One more time,” the deputy said. “You’re a federal agent. This is your husband. You were both involved in simultaneous gunfights on two separate properties north of town, both of which you are currently guests at. As we speak there are two corpses at each property, all of them armed home invaders which you claim were shot in self-defense. And you say the two incidents are unrelated.”
“That’s correct,” Hannah said glancing at Malcolm. Malcolm muttered an agreement.
The deputy shook his head. “Quite a coincidence you’re asking me to believe, wouldn’t you say?”
Hannah furrowed her brow. “Coincidence or not, that’s what happened, Deputy Schultz. You just saw the two homeowners leave by ambulance. The older one, who’s unconscious and is probably going to die, shot one of the intruders before he himself was gunned down. You’ll find his rifle on the ground where he dropped it with one cartridge ejected, the slug of which is in the corpse of the bad guy directly across from it. Should be no other prints on that rifle. The other dead bad guy at his property, on the far side of the barn, I managed to get.”
“You’re wearing body armor?” Deputy Shultz asked.
“Yes. But I wasn’t hit.”
The deputy turned to Malcolm. “You shot one of the invaders at the neighboring property?”
“Yes, officer. The male. Ryan got the other one—the female.” Malcolm noticed one of the other deputies removing the AR-15 from the 4-Runner as he spoke.
“You used the assault rifle?” Deputy Schultz asked.
“Yes. It’s Ryan’s, as both he and I already told you.”
“Wait here,” Schultz said. He left to talk to his two cohorts, flipping the pages of his notes as he did. Each of them nodded before getting into their respective cars and leaving the premises.
Deputy Schultz returned. “Let’s go over it again,” he said.
Hannah shook her head. “There won’t be any discrepancies. The bodies at the first house are suspects in an ongoing Secret Service investigation, which the Pittsburgh office will confirm. The gang they belong to previously shot three of my partners—one of whom was killed—and they’re also responsible for the recent deaths of two homeowners in Salem in a home invasion robbery last week.”
“Yes, I heard about that.” The deputy’s expression softened. “I used to live in Salem, and knew the victims. All right, Special Agent Carter. Your identity is clearly legitimate, so I’m prone to extending you a degree of professional courtesy. The only thing still bothering me is the fact that your husband is a civilian, and his part in this story is a little …unusual.”
“Is it really all that unusual in the current environment?” Malcolm asked. “Squatters invading rural properties where it looks like no one is home?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Deputy Schultz closed his notepad. “I was hoping things would settle down after the federal government worked out a fix for the money system earlier today. But I suppose it will take some time. I need both of you to return to your individual crime scenes now, and show my partners exactly what happened. They’re waiting for each of you there. I assume I can trust you to comply? If so, I’ll be on my way to the Parkersburg hospital to get an official statement from your friend.” He looked back and forth between Hannah and the 4-Runner several times. “All right? You give me your word?”
“Yes,” Hannah replied. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And good shooting.”
Deputy Schultz left the parking lot towards the westbound Highway 50 onramp. Malcolm and Hannah got back in Spence’s truck and returned to the road north of town. Hannah had Malcolm drop her at the Tahoe.
“What made you decide to park here and walk back this morning?” Malcolm asked.
“Training.” Hannah exited the 4-Runner and came around to Malcolm’s window. “Go on now, honey. Just cooperate. You have nothing to fear by telli
ng the truth. Mine will probably take longer, so I’ll come meet you at the hospital when we’re done, okay?”
Malcolm agreed, but something in Hannah’s voice made him suspicious. So, he pulled over a short ways up the road and waited for her to pass.
She never did.
Malcolm flipped a U-turn and drove back to the other pullout. Her car was gone. He then sped to the highway onramp and headed east—the same direction those two motorcycles went over the mountains.
On the highway, Malcolm floored it. Sure enough, he soon came up behind the black Tahoe, shining in the midday sun in front of him.
Hannah slowed, and then pulled over to the shoulder. Her hand came out the window and frantically waved in a backwards direction.
Malcolm parked behind her, got out and ran to her passenger side.
Hannah rolled the window down. “Malcolm, go back! You can’t leave the crime scene until they tell you. You’ll get in trouble.”
Malcolm reached through the window of the Tahoe, opened the door lock, and climbed in the passenger side.
“No!” Hannah said. “Malcolm, no. Please get out. Go back to Ryan’s and take care of at least one of the sheriff deputies.”
“You’re going after the guys who shot Spence, aren’t you?”
Hannah opened her mouth to object again.
“You must be insane,” Malcolm said before she could respond, “if you think I’m letting you do that alone. Now, the sheriff took the AR, but I have Ryan’s 9-millimeter.” Malcolm pulled the pistol from his pants. “It’ll have to do.”
Hannah stared back with a look of frustration which failed at disguising the appreciation she also obviously felt. Finally, she put the car back in gear and drove on.
