“Yep, now y’all are just going to rob a bank, I’ll bet,” he declared once the tag was signed off and installed.
“Not worth our time, Sergeant,” I replied, giving him a half smile.
“Just call me Zach,” Barlow replied, “really the only person that calls me ‘sergeant’ is my momma. She’s just proud, you know.”
“Gotcha, Zach. We’ll be back, probably in the morning, to get with the captain and see about these addresses. If I don’t go now, those three will leave without me.”
“Who is that other girl, Luke? The blonde haired one. I never did ask.”
“Sorry, Zach. That’s my fiancée, Amy. I know she looks young, but I assure you there’s less than two years between us; in fact, her birthday is coming up.”
Zach looked like he wanted to say something but held his tongue. I was getting tired of explaining that I wasn’t a cradle robber. She looked so darned young and innocent, and I just didn’t. Zach waved us out through the barricaded gate and Lori proceeded in a much more sedate speed than on our arrival.
Drawing up to the Guard roadblock, Lori slowed but didn’t stop as the soldier on duty waved us through. In addition to the tags, Zach also made sure we had ‘guest’ radio codes that identified us as such. I called ahead and touched base with the three man team holding the roadblock, so the reception was not unexpected.
Zach confided the few County vehicles that could be returned to use by the Sheriff’s Department had been provided with the same courtesy. That was okay, he said, since most of the other deputies stopped showing up for work shortly after the lights went out and had stayed close to home to take care of their families.
Once past the roadblock, Lori found the road to be hard going with all the cars and trucks still parked where they came to rest on that day. All the twisting and turning made me a little nauseous, but more than that, my sense of danger was suddenly spiking. These bottlenecks and narrow avenues provided for excellent ambush territory.
Less than a mile from the Guard post, we ran into our first snag. Lori had been forced off the highway by a wrecked eighteen wheeler. The darned thing lost the load and was wedged in so tight, guard rail to guard rail, I figured only something like an M88 was getting that snarl clear.
We were lucky that Lori knew her way around these surface streets as she took us through a maze of little two lane roads, always headed southeast. She said this was the fastest way to get to her subdivision, and that might have been true if it had not been for the barricade blocking the road.
“Damn it,” Lori cursed under her breath, and we sat watching the movement behind the row of dead cars arranged to block our path. I counted at least six shapes in the late afternoon sun, and guessed there could be more nearby. This was a mainly residential area with a few small stores mixed in, and I hoped this was something done in self-defense and not as a toll collection point. A polite term for hijacking, really.
We were stopped two hundred yards out and waiting. I slid my CETME back between the seats over the cased sniper rifle and silently exchanged it for one of the M4s we’d liberated from the DHS goons. It looked enough like an AR that nobody would notice, and I thought if we got busy here it would be at closer range. I quickly switched out the magazines, happy that the pouches were large enough to accommodate both the standard M4 magazines as well as the much larger .308 Winchester magazines for the CETME.
“Make sure your mag carriers are full and your safeties are off, ladies. Lori, you ready with that UMP?”
“Got it,” she replied. Her go-to move if we came under attack was to simply turn the truck around and haul ass, but if we needed the fire power she was ready to unleash the submachine gun. Just crack the door and let rip. Unfortunately, these armored windows did not go up and down that easily. I considered that a design flaw, but hey, the price was right. Actually, since the price was three dead Guardsmen, the price was fucking terrible, but I need to get my head back in the game.
“What are you planning, Luke?” Amy asked, and I knew she was in my head.
“Well, they haven’t started shooting yet, so that’s a good sign. Lori, if you could pull up—slowly—to about thirty yards. I’m planning to get out and do a little negotiating. See if I can get through here without making trouble.”
“Well, you know what I think about sending in someone to negotiate?” Amy said, and we both giggled like little kids. Lori looked at me across the front of the Suburban like I was crazy.
“Sorry,” I said contritely, “unless you’ve seen ‘The Fifth Element’ recently, that doesn’t make sense. It was just a joke.”
Lori shook her head. Apparently, she hadn’t. One of the many things I loved about Amy was her secret geek girl appreciation for Sci-Fi movies and books. ‘The Fifth Element’ was one of my favorites, and not just because you get to see Milla Jovovich nearly naked.
“Well, don’t try anything funny out there,” Summer piped up, and when I glanced back I could tell from her little smile she might have gotten the reference.
As we eased near the barrier, I saw a man push between the stalled cars and stand waiting. He had a rifle in hand but didn’t bother pointing it in our direction. He was about fifty, bearded, and dressed in filthy hunting camo attire. I didn’t get the idea. Was he supposed to be blending in with all that metal and chrome of the cars? I decided to not ask.
When Lori stopped, I looked around at the girls one last time and said, “Be ready.”
“For what?” Summer’s voice nearly quivered with nerves.
“Anything. The way today has been trending, expect some shooting.”
I approached the man with open hands, but with the M4 slung in front for easy access. As I walked slowly, I wondered what he thought as he took the time to examine my appearance. I still wore the denim shirt and blue jeans I’d started the day with, but now the knees and elbows were covered with grass stains and a little blood from Murphy still darkened the front of the shirt. Of course, the magazine pouches, now switched for the M4, in my chest rig hid the new bullet proof vest, and hopefully he wouldn’t have reason to find out about that.
“Howdy,” the man said, “my name’s Parker, and you can’t come through here.”
“Mr. Parker,” I replied, giving him a head nod of acknowledgement. “The highway is blocked, and some of my traveling companions need to go check on family over in the Sugar Grove community. Is there any way we can work out safe passage for me and my friends?”
“Friends? You’re kidding, right? You don’t look it, but we’ve seen them trucks of your prowling around before. And that truck is still showing government plates.” Mr. Parker sighed. “Look, we don’t want no trouble, but we also don’t want your kind around here.”
I thought on that for a second. Other trucks?
“Oh, shit,” I muttered to myself before looking up to catch Mr. Parker’s curious look.
“Mr. Parker, do you have a quarrel with the Oklahoma National Guard? Specifically, with Captain Bisley’s force here in McAlester?”
Now it was Parker’s turn to look worried. He started to turn and saw something but I gave him a ‘hold on’ gesture, down at my waist level. Hopefully, none of his men caught the motion.
“No problems, son. Are you saying you’re working with them, and not… anybody else?”
“Mr. Parker, my group, those friends of mine there, just came into town today. We ended up over at Big Mac, where there was a big freaking breakout in progress. Lots of gang members, with some pretty heavy firepower. Now, if you’ve seen other Suburbans like that one, it was surely not us. What kind of people do you think are using this type of vehicle?”
“I think you know, son. Them bastards that left us all to die. No one has trucks like that running except for the government types, the Feds, but I ‘spect you know that.”
I decided to take a risk and level with the man. The tension he held himself with earlier had faded somewhat, but I could still see something was bothering him. I gave him a sh
orthand account of my day.
“Mr. Parker, I woke up this morning in Fort Chaffee. I am working private security with a contract with the Arkansas National Guard. We were headed for a meeting with some of the boys from here in McAlester when we were ambushed. The assholes doing the shooting were driving this rig. I killed them and then took their stuff. That’s why I have the truck now. The Oklahoma Guard folks I met with seemed to think this was the beginning of something bigger.”
“They think the Feds are finally coming out of their bunkers?” Parker asked, and I noticed he didn’t even blink at my admission.
That rocked me back a second, but I nodded. “These guys who attacked us, they were driving a vehicle that shouldn’t be running, and have computers and stuff that nobody else has. Personally, I think they were Homeland Security. And what do you know about bunkers, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Well, it has been all over the HAMnet. Rumors, mostly. My old rig was too simple for the surge to affect, so I’ve been listening to the chatter.”
“Yes, sir. Maybe so. Now, I was going to ask about getting through, but something you just said a few minutes ago has me worried. Did you see where these other SUVs were headed?”
Suddenly, I was having a really bad feeling.
“No, but my grandson Toby did. He was out on his dirt bike yesterday, checking on some friends of his over on the southwest side of town.”
Thinking about the map in my head, I felt my bad feeling intensify.
“Mr. Parker, can you get your grandson up here in a hurry, please? I think we may have a serious problem.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lori was pissed, but managed to hide it. Summer, not so much. She refused to talk to me, or anyone else, as we made our way back to the armory. With Mr. Parker and Toby added to our group for the trip, nobody was saying much anyway. Mr. Parker noticed the blood stains on the carpet of the back seat and I briefly explained about Murphy. He gave me a measured look but that was it.
Toby, who turned out to be another one of the guards at the barricade, was about my age and kept glancing between the girls and back to me. Despite my few days’ growth of beard and the lines creasing my face, he seemed to get it. He didn’t say anything in front of his grandfather, so I left the subject alone for now. I didn’t feel like trying to explain, and we had bigger issues at the moment.
When we reached the Guard outpost, I asked Lori to pull close and stop. The men, the same ones we passed going out less than a half hour ago, recognized the vehicle but I was careful to exit the front passenger door with my rifle on the seat. I waited, keeping my hands visible, until one of the men called me over.
He was in his twenties, physically fit and, like everybody else, looked like a week of sleep might not fix the dark circles under his eyes.
“Help you, sir?” he asked politely. I guessed he didn’t know what to make of me, but I had a ‘friendly’ tag on the windshield and was riding around in a heavily tinted government vehicle. I decided again to ditch the Suburban, but it did carry some cachet.
I never knew what that word meant until I saw a store in the mall in Tyler with that name emblazoned across the front. When I asked my mom what it meant, in typical mom fashion, she told me to look it up. So now I know.
“Corporal, I need to know something first. Is Captain Bisley is back to the armory?”
He gave a half nod but seemed confused.
“I have reason to believe our communications are not secure, so there’s that. Sergeant Jenkins is aware of that and by now so is Captain Bisley. I know you don’t know me from Adam, but please just listen.”
I gave him a thirty second summary like with Mr. Parker, but with the proper military units identified. He didn’t need to know this, but I also did not want him radioing in my movements. I didn’t think the Men in Black were out to get us, but if what I suspected was correct, the Guard needed to act fast and do so without any tipping of their hand.
With a shocked look on his face as the implications sank in, the corporal waved me on and said to hurry.
Getting back into the armory took more time, and I had to get out and approach a nervous looking private who kept me covered the whole time while another soldier called in on the field phone to reach Sergeant Jenkins. After a tense thirty seconds, the guard on the phone said something and we were allowed entry.
By the time Lori wove her way through the concrete barriers, I saw Sergeant Jenkins standing in front of the brick building. He had a worried look on his face as we piled out and I made introductions. I started to move the vehicle when Jenkins said to just leave it.
We talked as we walked and Jenkins expression darkened as I laid out my theory. Mr. Parker just looked sick as he took in the implications but kept his silence. All six of us filed in behind the sergeant as he led the way to a clean but obviously well used conference room. There we were met by a captain and two lieutenants.
Captain Bisley was tall and angular, with a strong chin and hair the color of straw. One of the lieutenants, Lt. Nelson, shared Lori and Summer’s coloring and I pegged him as at least partially Native American. The other, a young woman with light blue eyes and a snub nose, was introduced as Lt. Varner. All three looked tired and Nelson sported a bandage on his right bicep.
Repeating what I’d told Jenkins, I went into more detail and shared my concerns. Some of this stuff was pure guesswork on my part, but I could see the alarm begin to rise for all three officers.
“So you think they are going after the ammo plant? But it doesn’t even work anymore,” Mr. Parker protested. I turned to give him a curious look, and he continued. “One of my neighbors works… worked out there. He said with the computers fried and the power grid down, they couldn’t hope to get back into production within six months.”
I nodded as the officers started whispering back and forth and Lt. Nelson got up to leave the room in a hurry. Figuring somebody like Parker might be useful for the local guard to have in the community, I spoke up again.
“Yes, but they’ve got a lot of stuff in storage out there that the Guard could use… and not just the Oklahoma Guard.” I paused, looking over at Captain Bisley, who nodded absently.
“With Camp Gruber in the hands of the Homeland folks, we don’t know what they might have planned. But, I’ve already seen one attack costing the Oklahoma Guard lives and materials. If what Toby saw is indeed more of these jokers, then what are they planning here? And by that same token, where did those drug thugs get medium machine guns? Even if they hit an armory, most armories are not ammunition points so they wouldn’t have the belted ammo needed to run them.”
“But why?” Summer asked, and then looked around, embarrassed by the sudden scrutiny.
Captain Bisley finally spoke up at that question.
“Maybe because the Die Off is not going according to plan,” he said simply, and then glanced around. “I don’t know all the details, but I do know this discovery Luke made, along with Sergeant Jenkins and Lt. Germann, has really twisted some tails in OKC. We are almost certain now that all of our radio communications have been compromised, which is why I’m betting he asked you to come here in person, Mr. Parker, and your grandson as well. Maybe Luke is wrong, maybe he is off base, but can we risk ignoring it if he is right?”
That brought the conversation to a screeching halt, and Captain Bisley asked Mr. Parker and Toby to accompany him to his office. The captain had some detailed questions and I gathered he didn’t need an audience.
I took that as a dismissal and, giving Sergeant Jenkins a nod, I gathered up the girls. We exited the conference room and huddled up by the lobby doors, trying to decide if we could still make it to the Thompson’s house this evening. The sun was rapidly approaching the far horizon and none of us wanted to try the trip in the dark.
“I just don’t understand why you felt like we needed to get involved in this?” Lori complained, looking out the thick glass doors.
“Think about it, sis,” Summer said,
comfortable enough to speak up now that we were away from the strangers. “This is like the prison break. Could we afford not to get involved? This is our home.”
“Well, I’m all done putting my head in the lion’s mouth,” I assured my friends. “I was terrified back at the prison.”
“Really? You were scared? You didn’t seem like it at all,” Lori commented. I looked at her carefully but she appeared to be serious. Amy spoke up then as she came over to give my forearm a squeeze.
“Who were you scared for, Luke?” she asked conversationally.
“You guys. I hate for you to be around when bullets start flying. I’ve thought several times today that this trip has been way more dangerous than I counted on it being.” I replied honestly, not sure I understood where she was going with her question.
“See, Lori, he does get scared… for us.”
I was just standing there trying to think how to respond when Sergeant Jenkins came to check on us. When I said we were not going to brave the night trying to reach the Thompson place this evening, he responded with an invitation to spend the night inside the perimeter of the armory.
I was pleased with the offer and looked around to poll the crew, seeing they were all on board.
“Thank you. Do we need to check our rifles in at the arms room? That was the deal we negotiated with the ANG to stay at the armory in Fayetteville and Fort Chaffee.”
“Not after today. That attack on our men at the prison has the captain on edge. Please… he’s got half on, half off security all night and he’s sending another two squads over to help keep the plant secure.”
“How do you guys get along with the plant manager, anyway? I know the officers with the ANG want to swap some things for shells out of the ammo plant, and surely your own forces can use the artillery shells they produce.” I didn’t feel it was my place to interfere, but I was curious.
Hard Rain Falling (Walking in the Rain Book 3) Page 11
