NO DIRECTION HOME
ON THE EDGE
BOOK 3
By MIKE SHERIDAN
Copyright © 2017 by Mike Sheridan
ON THE EDGE is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Editing by Felicia Sullivan
Proofreading by Laurel Kriegler
Cover art by Deranged Doctor Design
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
FROM THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1
Mason Bonner sat in the living room of his 35-foot Highland Ridge Roamer, the luxurious trailer left to him by Wasson Lodge’s departed leader, a man by the name of Chris. A generous gift, Mason had joked at the time, considering the two had barely met.
Despite his comfortable living arrangements, however, Mason was in a foul mood, and had been for two straight days, ever since his hostage Ned Granger had been rescued and his friend and adviser Russ Willis captured in his place. Making matters worse, two of his crew had been killed in the process.
Anger and frustration gnawed at him while he came to terms with the dramatic turn of events. His girl, Tania, wisely stayed out of his way as much as possible, dutifully washing his clothes, preparing his meals, doing all she could to appease his ill humor.
At least fresh meat was back on the table, a welcome change from the soggy pasta dishes he’d endured for the past two weeks. Several of his men were experienced hunters, and returned to camp each day with venison and wild boar that was grilled every evening in large fire pits. Under normal circumstances, it would have put him in excellent spirits, but with his recent reversal of fortune, not even the succulent fresh meat could improve his mood. Mason wouldn’t be happy until he got even with Rollins.
That wouldn’t be easy. The sheriff now knew exactly how many men he had at his disposal, which was not the sixty he’d claimed, and he wasn’t in the least intimidated by his threats. The information had almost certainly been extracted from Russ during his capture. Mason doubted it had taken much work. While cunning and sneaky, Russ wasn’t exactly someone who had much going on in the bravery department, if that department even existed.
Nonetheless, at dawn that morning, Mason had led a team of eight men into Camp Benton’s grounds in a daring bid to slip past their defenses. If he’d found out where they were holding Russ, perhaps he could have rescued him. Things hadn’t gone well. The camp perimeter was heavily guarded, and he and his men had been spotted, then chased back with their tails between their legs under a barrage of heavy gunfire, worsening his mood even further.
Mason wasn’t the type of person to sit back passively and just give up, however. After he cooled down, he began hatching a new plan to get even with the sheriff, something practical that stood a real chance of succeeding. A grim smile came to his lips as he played with a certain scheme in his mind.
His thoughts were interrupted by a light rap on the door. “Come in,” he called out.
The door opened and Doney, his trusted bodyguard, stepped inside. Mason waved him over to where he sat on the sofa.
“What’s up?”
Doney stared down at Mason a little uncertainly. With his recent dark moods, even Doney walked on eggshells around him. “Boss, the men just found Russ at the bottom of the driveway. He had a pillowcase over his head and four bullets in his chest.”
Mason stared back at Doney expressionlessly. He’d been expecting the news of Russ’s demise at any moment, though it hadn’t occurred to him that the sheriff would callously dump his body like that. Rollins was more ruthless than he’d thought.
“Well, they executed him,” he said in a flat tone. “Just like they said they would if we didn’t pick up and leave here.”
Doney appeared relieved that his boss hadn’t erupted into yet another of his explosive rages. “What do you want us to do with him?”
Mason shrugged indifferently. He’d already moved on from Russ. He wasn’t the sentimental type either. “Dump him in the forest. I’m told there’s plenty of wolves around. They’ll be happy to get a free meal.”
A tight smile came to Doney’s lips. Like the rest of Mason’s crew, he’d made it apparent that he hadn’t thought too much of Russ. “I’ll see to it.” He headed toward the door.
“Hey, Doney,” Mason called after him. “When you’re done, grab four men and report back to me. We’re going to take a trip around the lake, see if we can’t make some new friends.”
“Friends?” Doney raised an eyebrow questioningly.
Mason grinned. “Yeah, you never know when they might come in useful. If they’ve got a boat, that’d be even better.”
CHAPTER 2
In what used to be the YMCA staff lounge, the five members of the Benton Council sat around the table. Half an hour ago, Russ had been executed and his body dumped at the bottom of the Wasson Lodge driveway, a tit-for-tat retaliation on Rollins’s part. Three days beforehand, Mason had dumped the bodies of several members of the Camp Knox group at the top of their drive, and he was sending the bandit a clear signal. If Mason wanted a brutal war between the two camps, he would get one.
“What now?” Henry Perter asked, peering nervously around the table. “Mason is sure to be pissed as hell. He’s going to want revenge right away.”
“We’ll be ready for him, Hank,” Ned Granger said confidently. “He’s got less than twenty men. That’s not enough to take this camp. No way in hell.”
Perter appeared reassured by Granger’s words. The two men had been good friends before the pandemic, and though nervous by nature, he’d never once shirked from his duties since his appointment to the council. Two days ago, when Kit Halpern discovered where Mason had been holding Granger captive, it had been Perter who was first to burst into the living room at Old Fort, killing both of Mason’s guards.
“Maybe we should attack first,” Mary Sadowski mused. “When Mason’s least expecting it.”
“Like when…tonight?” Bert Olvan asked, sitting next to her.
Sadowski nodded.
“Might be a better way to utilize Walter and his group,” Granger said, rubbing his chin. “If we wait for Mason to attack, the whole thing could be over by the time they arrive. That’s no use to anybody.”
Thirty minutes ago, Walter and Cody had returned to their camp in the Alacul
sy Valley. Seeing as they were responsible for Mason’s presence at the Cohutta, the two had promised to help fight the bandit once Walter consulted with his group. Since the distance between the two camps was too great to maintain radio contact, Rollins had suggested that he and Walter meet that afternoon at the Harris Branch once Walter knew how many people he could commit to the cause. The Harris Branch was approximately the halfway point between the two camps.
Sadowski stared at Granger. “What makes you so sure he and his friends will show up when we need them?”
“He’ll show,” Granger said confidently. “Walter’s not the sort to go back on his word. Question is, how many will agree to come with him.”
“Cody will, for sure,” Rollins said. “As for the others, we’ll just have to wait and see. Remember, half their group knows nothing about Mason. It’s not really their fight. Ned, if we were to attack tonight, how would we best use them?”
“We should get them to attack the lodge from the Devil’s Point side of the peninsula,” Granger replied. “Take the same route Mason used. Give him a taste of his own medicine.”
Rollins turned to Sadowski. “You think our people are well-trained enough for an assault on the lodge? Defending our camp is one thing; going on the attack is another.”
Sadowski nodded. “I think so. Besides, you were prepared to storm the lodge if need be when Ned was held captive, remember?”
Rollins put on a mock scowl. “Now, Mary, I told you not to tell Ned that. You’ll give him a big head.”
Granger chuckled. “I’ll start working on a plan. If we’re going to take the lodge, a good plan and the element of surprise will be crucial. John, remember those night vision glasses I showed you the other day? Well, they’ll be just as useful in an attack.”
Rollins nodded. On their second day at the camp, the two had toured its defenses. Afterward, Granger had shown him the five pairs of night vision glasses he’d picked up in Cleveland. “What time should we attack?”
Granger thought for a moment. “From what I saw, Mason and his men stay up pretty late. They like to drink…a lot. Three a.m. should be a good time.” He looked around the table. “I don’t think I need tell you, there’ll be some fireworks tonight when this party gets going. Mary, have you drilled our three new members yet? Monica and the Irish couple?”
Sadowski shook her head. “With all that’s been going on lately, I haven’t had the chance. I’ll get onto it this afternoon.”
Granger nodded. “The two women can stay and defend the camp. We’ll take the big fellow with us. He doesn’t look the type that scares easily.”
“So long as he listens properly and does exactly what he’s told.” Sadowski sighed. “What a motormouth. He never shuts up, does he?”
Olvan smiled. “Jonah takes a little getting used to, that’s all.”
“That’s hard when you can barely understand a word he says,” Rollins added with a chuckle. “But from what I saw the other day, I think he’s a little scared of you, Mary. There was real fear in his eyes when you dressed him down that time.”
“Good,” Sadowski said, cracking a dry smile. “By the time I’m finished with him, he’ll be absolutely terrified.”
The men around the table laughed.
“Last thing,” Rollins said. “Let’s not forget, Mason will have his plans too. We need to remain extra vigilant at the camp. He could attack at any moment.”
The four other council members reflected on his words soberly.
“You’d think he’d just pack up and leave wouldn’t you?” Perter said finally. “I mean, there must be easier fights to pick around here than us.”
“He’s not the sort, Hank,” Granger said firmly. “Mason relishes confrontation. You pick a fight with a man like that, it’s to the bitter end.”
Rollins nodded. “Agreed. We just have to make sure it’s his bitter end, not ours.”
CHAPTER 3
It took Mason a couple of hours of roaming Lake Ocoee’s north shoreline to find the kind of people he was looking for: folk down on their luck and a little desperate. Prior to that, he’d checked out several other camps, but none had suited his purposes. They were either too large or not interested in his proposition, and the survivors had viewed him with open hostility. Not that it had intimidated Mason. Accompanied by five well-armed crew members, he wasn’t afraid of a little confrontation. In fact, he relished it.
He passed the turn for Archville, then moments later steered his GMC Canyon off Highway 64 and down a forest service road. “I saw a campsite back at that bay we just passed,” he commented to Doney, who was riding shotgun in the front passenger seat. “If I’m not mistaken, this trail ought to take us down to it.”
Fifty yards from the lake shore, a rudimentary barrier of boulders and a felled tree blocked the road. Beyond it was a small clearing where a couple of two-man tents had been pitched beside a travel trailer and a Dodge pickup. There didn’t seem to be a lot going on, and the setup was poor. One thing caught Mason’s attention, however: a flat-bottomed skiff anchored fifteen feet from the lake shore.
He pulled up in front of the barricade and beeped his horn. Immediately, several men emerged from the trailer and tents and scattered in all directions, taking cover behind the trees. Mason counted five in total. All carried weapons of some description
From behind a nearby tree on his left, a man dressed in army-surplus camos stepped out, a semi-automatic rifle clutched in his grip. He was obviously the camp member assigned to guard duty.
The man pointed his rifle at Mason. “What do you want?” he yelled. “This here property is taken. Turn around and be on your way!”
“I’m not interested in your shitty property,” Mason growled. “If I was, I wouldn’t be honking my damned horn.” He glanced in his rear view mirror to see that two of his men had their rifles trained on the man. The other two in the truck bed scanned the rest of the camp. “Point that rifle someplace else before my men riddle you with holes.”
The man stared uncertainly at Mason a moment, then lowered his weapon.
“That’s better. Now tell me, where are you guys from?”
“Nashville. We got to the Cohutta three days ago.”
“Nashville, huh? Where the music never stops.” Mason chuckled. “I’m guessing it’s stopped now though, right?”
“It’s stopped all right. Won’t be coming back anytime soon, neither,” the guard replied. “What exactly is it you want, mister?”
Mason stared past him. From behind the trees, his companions all watched Mason intently, weapons at the ready. “You can start by telling me who’s in charge here.”
“That’d be Nate,” the guard said, pointing over to one of the men. “The guy in the blue shirt. Why?”
Mason opened his door and stepped out of the truck. “Because I’m done talking to you, that’s why. Go fetch him.”
The guard held Mason’s gaze a moment, then jerked his head to one side. “Nate!” he called out. “This dude wants to talk to you. Watch out, he’s a big mother, too.”
A stocky man in a short-sleeved blue-checked shirt stepped out from behind a tree and headed toward the barricade, two companions in tow. Thirtyish, he was around five-ten and looked like he had neither shaved nor changed his clothes in a week. All three men looked tough, and carried semi-automatic rifles. AR-15s.
When he got to within twenty yards of the barricade, the man stopped, waving to his two companions to do likewise.
“Yeah, what do you want?” he asked, warily looking Mason’s huge frame up and down. “From here on down to the lake is private property. We don’t let no one pass through.”
“So I heard,” Mason replied. “You Nate, the leader of this group?”
“That’s right.”
“How many of you are camped here? Just the six of you?”
Nate eyed Mason suspiciously. “More than that. What the hell is it to you?”
“Because I got a proposition for the right sort of people
who can help me out on a certain matter. Maybe a group looking to improve their situation.” Mason glanced back at the shabby camp. “Which in your case wouldn’t take much doing.”
Nate scowled. “We were doing just fine until bandits ambushed us on our way from Nashville. I lost four men and was forced to hand over most of our supplies.”
“These are tough times. Ambushers everywhere.” Mason turned to face Doney, who by now had stepped out of his side of the vehicle, and winked. “That right, Doney?”
“That’s right, boss. You got to be real careful how you go about these days.”
Nate studied the two men. “How about you tell me your proposition. If I’m interested, I’ll tell you how many men I got.”
“Fair enough. I got a situation going down on the other side of the lake. A situation where I could do with a little help. For that, I’d be prepared to give away some of my supplies. I got medicine, fuel, dry foods, and a bunch of other stuff you could probably do with right now. In fact, if you did a good job for me, I might even allow you people to settle next to my camp. Trust me, no one is going to fuck with you if I’m anywhere nearby.”
“Where exactly is this camp of yours?” Nate asked.
Mason pointed across the lake. “A place called Wasson Lodge. Over on the south side.”
Nate frowned. “Just so happens we were there when we first arrived and got run off the place. Was that you guys?”
“Nope. We only moved in recently. The lodge is under new management now.” Perhaps it had been Mason’s men who’d chased Nate away that day. He had no idea.
“So what happened to the old management?” Nate asked, staring at Mason closely.
“I’ll leave that to your imagination. Here’s the thing though, I got a big group and the lodge is too small for me, so I’m planning on moving somewhere bigger.”
“You’re thinking of the YMCA camp, ain’t you? It’s on the same piece of headland.”
On The Edge: Book Three in The No Direction Home Series Page 1
