Which was true. There was a camaraderie shared by the student athletes that bridged cultural and racial differences. I was still regarded as the new kid for several years, but since I worked to fit in and not make waves, I was gradually accepted.
As I was speaking, I saw a house approaching on the right side and glanced hard at the burned-out shell. Dana used to live there, I remembered, and I wondered idly how her family was doing. Probably not well, I figured. What happened to their youngest daughter tore her parents apart, and they moved away even before the lights went out. I felt an old familiar pain well up inside and I fought to suppress the hurt.
Dana was gone and in the end, there was nothing I could do to protect her, or even avenge her memory. Instead, I repeated my silent vow to help where I could. I thought about my “three bandit” rule and realized I had been trying to help all along without admitting it to myself. Taking on too many was an invitation to assisted suicide, but with surprise and a commitment to killing the bad guys first, I might do a little more good for those left in this shitty world. Something one of my dad’s friends mentioned one time in passing now made much more sense. “Get your retaliation in first.”
Then we were getting closer to town and I saw more destroyed houses and torched outbuildings. Lord, I can’t believe I didn’t notice this on the way. This side of Center looked like a war had taken place, and the winners were not immediately evident. At least I saw no unburied bodies left in the streets.
As we came around a curve in the road, I saw the roadblock set up in a choke point, this one much better situated than the one on the other side of town. Further out, for one thing, and bordered by a wall of stacked, wrecked cars on one side and a sturdy barricade of what looked like concrete dividers arranged in a series of overlapping lines and terminating against the side of a large brick building. The old post office, I remembered. The pockmarked face of the structure reminded me of the war zone the world had become. Even here.
Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach. The whole trip from Chicago, I kept my mind off the horror by telling myself that things would be different back home, and that everything would be all right. Well, nothing was all right and I was still taking lives to stay alive.
“Let me ease up a bit,” my father said, creeping the big truck forward until one of the sentries gave the wave to halt. He stopped and then cast a quick look my way. “And you might want to keep that cannon down below the level of the window, too.”
I had been in favor of bringing the Hummer back, with Scott manning the machine gun, but Dad vetoed that idea. Too much, he said simply. Now I understood. None of the men at the barricade looked familiar to me, but Dad’s truck fit in much better than the military vehicle.
“Oh, good. It’s Tom,” my dad said, and I could see him relax ever so slightly.
“Tom?” I asked, looking again at the hard faces of the men slowly closing in on the truck.
“Yeah, Tom Radalak. He is one of Sheriff Henderson’s lieutenants in the department. Good man. I was hoping he made it.”
“Well, we are going to find out in a few seconds if he is still a good man,” I muttered to myself and checked the magazine in my rifle. I did it carefully, keeping the weapon out of sight.
“Everybody watch your sectors,” I said conversationally, and I could hear Beth and Lori moving around in their seats. “Look for snipers but don’t engage yet.”
“Luke, these are the good guys,” my father objected, but kept his voice down.
“Yeah, supposed to be. And so were the city guards outside Harrison. Or the National Guard troops running the rape tents in Jefferson City,” I replied coolly. I would not be taken off guard again.
“Just let me talk to Tom,” my father insisted, and I didn’t disagree. Maybe he was right. I know the sheriff was a good man, back before the lights went out, and he had treated us right when we came through before. Of course, I was holding one of his dumber deputies hostage, but he didn’t change the way he treated us even after I let the idiot go free.
But that was then and the situation may have changed. Maybe I was turning paranoid and emotionally disturbed, but I was also alive and a lot of other people, trusting and rational, were not.
I had a reason to stay alive now, and I intended to take every precaution I could to get home safe to her.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Center still looked like a ghost town as we rolled slowly down the trash-littered streets, with a few curious citizens acting like haunting spirits as they dared peek out their windows. The old park where I used to play near the center of town was now one of the few locations showing any activity as I saw dozens of men and women toiling away under the morning sun, weeding rows of crops with the dedication only seen in people who were critically dependent on those fragile plants surviving.
We’d picked up another passenger after Dad conferred with the guards at the checkpoint and Tom Radalak. “Rhymes with Cadillac,” he said by way of introduction. He said it in a way that told me he’d done it hundreds, maybe thousands, of times in his life.
“Luke,” was all I said in reply and gave the man a respectful nod. That he’d remained on the job when so many others fled to see to their own either meant he was totally dedicated to the job or he had nowhere else in particular to be. Or a little of both, which I figured was closer to the truth.
He was now riding in the truck bed along with our two hogtied prisoners. He’d been a little hesitant at first, as had the other three guards on duty at the barricade. Dad might have been a known quality before the lights went out, but here we were, four heavily armed civilians arriving in town with a pair of bloodied and bandaged men and a bedraggled looking woman trapped in the rear seat.
“All right, Sam,” Tom finally said, “I get how you want to get this woman looked at, but what do you expect us to do with these two guys? Raiders? There’s just the two of them. Probably more likely chicken thieves if you caught them on your property.”
“No, these are the survivors. Beth, how many did we end of burying?”
“Nineteen, I think. Luke, did you keep count?”
I shook my head. “After a while, they just start to run together,” I said frankly. “I know they murdered the Cartwrights, and other families too, I think.”
Tom blanched, realizing this was a much bigger deal than he first imagined. “Luther and his family?” he asked.
“Maggie made it,” my father said in response. “She’s back at the ranch, recovering. They wiped out the Blanchards and the McDonald families, as well. Since these were all county residents, I figured Sheriff Henderson would want a full accounting of who all they raped and murdered.”
“And they confessed to all these crimes?”
“Oh, they sure did. I’ve got a written report I prepared as well.”
Tom was horrified but not shocked by the news. I could read the reaction on his tired face. This was the new normal. Civilians were generally on their own. Sink or swim. But these were still citizens of Shelby County, folks he was sworn to protect.
“I think the sheriff will need to see you about this. Come on, I’ll get you all cleared and I’ll catch a ride in with you.”
True to his word, Tom quickly made arrangements for us to proceed and then he swung into the truck bed and tapped the roof of the cab, letting Dad know he was ready to go.
So Dad kept his speed down as we crept into town, and my head stayed on a swivel as I watched for snipers. The familiar signs and sights messed with my head as we rolled past the burned and gutted Dairy Queen. I wondered if Cecil, the manager, got out before the fire started. His daughter, Melody, was in Paige’s class and I knew her slightly, but mainly I knew the father because I would often stop in at the restaurant after practice and grab a Beltbuster or two. Great burgers.
“Hard to see home this way,” Beth muttered softly, and I couldn’t help but nod.
“I told myself not to get my hopes up,” I replied. “Everywhere was like thi
s, though.”
“Yeah, sometime I want to hear all about your trip,” she said evenly as we pulled up to the sheriff’s office. I heard Tom call out for Dad to just stop out front, and he pulled into a parking spot. There were no other cars moving on the street, though I saw half a dozen stripped vehicles frozen in place after the pulse.
“No,” Lori finally said. “You don’t. Just from what I’ve heard, you don’t.”
Then we were out of the vehicle, as I hopped out of the door and took a knee, rifle up and snug against my shoulder. Beth and Lori repeated the move, leaving Kate to fend for herself as my father turned off the engine and Tom clamored down out of the truck bed. From the grunts, I imagined he managed to kick both prisoners in the process.
“Son, you mind helping me with the prisoners?” Tom asked, walking around to where I was kneeling on the hard concrete.
“He can’t,” Beth replied. “He’s restricted to light duty. Still recovering from a GSW.”
“I’ll get one,” my father said, “if you can get the other. Beth, can you escort Kate, please?”
“On it,” she replied, slinging her rifle and returning to the truck.
Standing guard was probably overkill, I thought, but I didn’t say a word. According to what little I heard about these thugs, they might still have connections inside the community. Better safe than dead.
Once the prisoners were frog marched in and Beth had her charge escorted through the cardboard-patched double doors, I saw Lori motion for me to fall back and I did so, then stopped halfway to cover her retreat to the door. That was a technique my father taught us, and I appreciated his training now more than ever.
The front room of the sheriff’s office was stripped bare, not even a stool or bench in sight as Lori and I entered. One door opened into this room, and I saw no sign of our group’s passage.
“So now what?” Lori grumbled. I loved to hear her whine. Not because I like to pull the wings off flies, but it was just so darned cute. If Amy was a Tolkienesque elven maiden, then Lori was a buzzing little pixie. Like Tinkerbell, with a bad attitude. Yes, I’ve seen the cartoons. My sister loved them at one time, and I sat and watched out of brotherly duty.
“Well, they know where we are. I suggest we just wait,” I replied, and sank slowly to the floor. I was tired after walking a patrol the night before and then getting only four hours sleep before this little jaunt.
“What is wrong with Kate?” Lori asked, and I knew what she meant. She seemed to still be keyed up from the drive, and I knew if I didn’t answer, she would keep talking about something.
“I don’t know, but I trust Beth’s instincts. I know you haven’t had a chance to get to know her, but she is a really nice lady. A good mom, but she doesn’t take any guff off Austin or Travis, that’s for sure. I suspect she found out something about the woman that makes her unsuitable for the ranch, that’s all.”
“She’s cool,” Lori said after a beat. “When we started shooting the other night, I was scared to death. Scared I was going to hit one of your guys, or get shot, but she was steady as a rock. Helped keep me from worrying and just do what was needed.”
“Yeah, that’s Miss Beth. She was an ER nurse for a while, before the kids were born, and I think that makes a big difference. She doesn’t get rattled easy.”
“Well, she made sure we did our jobs, that’s for sure, and she didn’t say anything when Connie threw up after the shooting stopped. Just handed her a bottle of water and told her to take little sips.”
I nodded. That sounded like her, all right.
“So, you and Amy? I’m glad,” Lori said, veering from one topic to the next. “That was pretty ballsy, you know? Basically just laying down your claim that way. Was it romantic? Down by the creek?”
“Yes, it was,” I replied, trying to keep up with Lori’s rapid-fire questions. “I know my mom is freaked, but honestly, she thinks I’m nuts already, so what is a little more crazy?”
Lori was silent for several minutes, and I lay back against the wall and got comfortable. When Lori started talking again, I was surprised at what she said.
“She’s just worried, Luke. I’ll bet her whole world has come crashing down, and she’s still trying to put the pieces back together. And on top of all that, her little boy comes home and he’s not the same. I can tell from the way everybody acts around you, my friend. You’ve changed. Become colder, harder. I get it, I think. This is the adaptation you’ve made to fit in with this new world.
“But what your mom needs to figure out is, Amy is the reason you’ve not gone completely medieval. But, she still loves you even if she can’t understand you.”
Yeah, Lori did get me. I could also tell the mention of my mom’s issues had Lori thinking about other things as well. She wiped away a tear. Reaching out, I patted Lori on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your parents, Lori. I know I might have said it before, but I’ll say it again. There was nothing you could have done, even if you had been there.” I paused, letting my words sink in for her.
“Scott told you. There were too many people trying to get into the house. You wouldn’t have stood a chance. I know he feels guilty, just like Paige feels responsible for Grandpa getting himself killed. But they were your parents, and I know they would be happy you three are still alive. And I’m happy you are with us.”
Lori wiped at her eyes, and I knew she was trying to hide those few tears.
“And we’re happy to be here, Luke. I know seeing your town all fucked up has you down, but at least there seems to be some order here. Somebody is trying to hold things together.”
“Yeah, and that’s what has me so worried. If the plan is to disrupt enclaves, to encourage the Die Off to proceed so the stubborn ones, the prepared folks, are taken out of the equation, then when do the Homeland thugs get here?”
Lori didn’t have an answer for me there.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
“So you mean to say, our own government is working with gangs of criminals and outlaws to make sure more people die in this mess?”
Sheriff Paul Henderson didn’t look like he’d slept since I saw him last, and the bags under his eyes gave him even more of a hound dog appearance than nature had already cruelly bestowed. He was in his early forties but appeared much older as we sat in the dingy, poorly lit conference room at the back of his offices.
At least they finished talking about the two raiders we captured before Lori and I were summoned in for the next round of discussions. They would hang, and the sheriff would dispatch one of his few remaining vehicles to check out the homesteads mentioned in my father’s report.
Kate gave a statement condemning all of the gang as murderers and rapists, including the two we brought in this morning. Now Beth was gone, accompanied by Deputy Tom. They took Kate in to the one functional clinic, not coincidentally located across the street from the fortified sheriff’s office. They would get the woman’s wound seen to and enquire about the availability of any medical supplies. Then, if Beth thought it a good idea, I would go over to get my incision checked as well. All healed up and everything, so I figured I didn’t need the hassle.
I knew this meeting was the real reason we made the trip to town. Those two raiders could just have easily joined their brethren in the mass grave excavated by the front-end loader at Boot Hill, after all. No, Dad needed to apprise the sheriff of the danger represented by this group of Homeland operatives. Hopefully before they had a chance to sink their teeth into the county.
I held up my hands in surrender to the sheriff’s questions, explaining once again I didn’t have the answers he wanted. “That’s just a theory, Sheriff. Seems the Pentagon and Congress have commissioned several studies that we know of on this topic. Seventy-five percent to 90 percent losses have been discussed in the reports made public. Three to five years seems to be the most optimistic timeline mentioned for a recovery effort. I just remember one officer’s opinion that the P
resident panicked when he realized the ‘wrong’ people were most likely to survive. People like us.”
“Paul,” my father jumped in, trying to get the discussion back on track, “whatever their motivation, the fact remains. These rogue elements are active, and they have been active in Texas. From what Luke described, that effort to take the Red River Army Depot wasn’t some small undertaking.”
“That’s the way I saw it. There had to have been eighty or ninety men in that force, equipped with functioning Bradleys and other armored scout rigs. Thank God the Regular Army was already set up and waiting for them,” I chimed in, trying to help.
“And you’re sure you saw them helping the inmates who attacked the prison, and later at the armory?” the sheriff asked, and I could see the hope in his eyes fade as I replied.
“Yessir. When the NG troops were policing up the area after the fighting died down, I saw lots of dead men wearing that same type of body armor and camouflage pattern.”
“Well, hell. I guess we will be fighting with the TSA, Border Patrol, and the Coast Guard, then,” the sheriff said, citing three of the largest departments in DHS.
“The Federal Protective Service hires mercenaries, Paul. Private military contractors, as well as direct hires in the thousands. Has been for years. They’re supposed to be responsible for safeguarding the Federal infrastructure, but they have been steadily hiring and building their numbers since the damn department was first cobbled together.”
My father’s words were tinged with more than a little frustration as he stated the facts.
“Well, maybe McCorkle can keep these guys off our backs,” Sheriff Henderson growled with a sigh. “He’s back, crawled out of whatever hidey-hole congressmen skitter off to when times are tough, but he’s making noise about getting the state back on its feet.”
“McCorkle,” I found myself growling this time, but my dad held up a quelling hand.
Walking in the Rain (Book 4): Dark Sky Thunder Page 14
