Abram didn’t smile, though. He looked back and forth between Danny and Kent, and his mouth flatlined. “In my experience, that’s only true in civilized society. In case you missed it, we do not have a civilized society anymore, or even much of a civilization. Black is telling them it’s okay to take from others, and they’re buying it. You think they’re going to want to listen to someone telling them they’re doing wrong? No one wants to think they’re evil, not even the bad guys. And make no mistake, Danny, your people are the bad guys here.”
Kent spoke before Danny could think of a reply. “Nah, man. They ain’t bad. Just human. Give ’em a chance to do right, and most of them will. Look at my people. They good folks, even if I had to remind them of it for a hot minute when this all came down. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I don’t exactly fit the demographic for this town, you feel me? But they listened. That’s the power of hope, when nothin’ but darkness and fear is what they saw until someone came along and told them the shadows they saw everywhere would go away if they just turn around and see the light, instead. My people turned around. So did Brooke’s, until Black came along and switched off the light.”
Danny felt a smile steal across his face. “Nicely put. So, what I’m saying is, let’s just give them a new light. Maybe it’ll drive away the darkness.”
Kent grinned back at him. “Light up the Black-ness.”
“A ‘black light,’ if you will.”
Abram grunted.
“You two are horrible,” Abram said. “Leave the jokes to comics. But I see your point. I mean, you’re outnumbered three-to-one, right? Your idea, using that young lady of yours and her mom to cut Black’s support off at the knees, might give you a chance.”
“Maybe your only chance,” Danny said.
“Maybe—but let’s see what they have to say about it before you shove them out the door, shall we? After all, the necks you want to risk are theirs.” Abram glanced at the young woman, smiling into the radio. Kent was a lucky man to have her, despite their May-December romance—his age didn’t seem to affect her feelings for him. Abram doubted Kent would want to risk her life, once he figured out what Danny had in mind…
“Of course.” Danny shrugged. “But I know Misty better than anyone except Wyatt. She’d take any risk for her daughter, and damn near any risk for the people she grew up with. And Brooke, well, she’s her father’s daughter for sure—she’ll do what’s right, and damn the risk.”
Abram frowned. Would Wyatt have jumped in with both feet, without looking first, rushing out to meet the enemy head-on with nothing for protection but a message of hope and light? If so, that was probably what had gotten him killed. Black had happened. And if no one stopped Black, the same would “happen” to everyone in Burnsville, too.
The radio crackled, and Brooke hit the button several times, shouting her mom’s name.
“It seems you lost reception,” Abram said.
“What?” Brooke cried. “No! Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. This just happens with ham radios. You can sometimes talk to someone halfway around the world, yet miss a broadcast from twenty miles away. Signal bouncing.”
“Bouncing?” She wiped her wet cheeks with her hands.
“Yes. Radio waves are line-of-sight, but ham frequencies bounce off the atmosphere.”
“Explain.”
Abram nodded. She was curious about things, and that spoke well of her. He said, “Imagine a line going up and down, and if you’re between two ‘down’ points, you miss the words entirely.”
She nodded, considering the mic. “What causes it?”
He shrugged. “As the atmosphere changes temperature, pressure, and more, the signals bounce differently. What you could hear one day can be missed the next. Don’t worry, though, we’ll get them back. Just give it time.”
She nodded and continued mashing the transmit button on the mic. “C’mon, you piece of—”
“In the meantime, Brooke, please quit hitting that button. We have to save the batteries, and if we keep broadcasting turned off, they’ll last a long time.”
“But, my mom? I need to hear her voice. She’s okay?”
Abram nodded. “No problem. We can keep one of the hand-unit’s four active monitors set to this station, so that when your mom radios in again, we’ll hear it and you can respond right away.”
Danny said, “Someone has to monitor this constantly then.”
Abram shrugged. “I will. Or Owen, or Frank.”
“Damn straight,” Frank grumbled. That was the first time the man had spoken during the entire conversation, to the point where Abram had almost forgotten he was there. “Family takes care of family, whether you’re family by blood or by choice.”
Kent glared for half a second, then visibly struggled to compose himself.
Frank scowled right back. “Our situation, that’s different. She was my real family.”
“Yeah. Mine, too.” Kent looked away first, though. “It doesn’t even matter anymore, though. I made a mistake, but that only killed our hopes—and our relationship. It didn’t kill her.”
Frank’s eyebrows furrowed. “Not as much as the cancer did, maybe, but you helped make the end all but guaranteed.”
Kent shook his head, slowly, eyeing his former father-in-law. “She never wanted us to fight, you know.”
“Didn’t want to die, either.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Kent paused, but Frank’s iron stare into space made it clear that his sorries meant little to Frank. Kent let out a sigh. “But right now, I got no time for the same old fights, old man. They’re coming for us all, and I got the living to worry about.”
Brooke wrapped her arms around Kent’s waist and rested her head on his chest. “You know, Kent is right.” She looked up at him. “And you’re my family-by-choice, ‘old man.’ I heard what y’all were talking about.”
“What, the radio?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll do it.”
Abram blinked in surprise. “You’ll do…what, exactly?”
She replied, “I’m going to go out there, tonight, and chat up all them armed folks from my town, who come to kill your folks in your town.”
“The hell you are,” Kent snarled. “You ain’t going out there, girl.”
She seemed to ignore him, continuing, “I’ll tell it true about Black and my daddy, about the man Black’s thug murdered, and about all them who died here today. Then, you’ll see.”
“See what?” Abram tried not to frown, but he was growing weary of having to ask the obvious questions.
“You’ll see that we ain’t bad folks. My people, they’ll turn on Black, you mark my words.”
Abram felt a chill run down his arms. This headstrong young woman was going to get herself killed. If her mother were anything like her, then she’d go get herself killed, too, as soon as she found out. Then what? There’d be no one left who could prevent the coming storm. Dozens, maybe hundreds would die, and Black would be the end of not one town, but two.
Abram snapped, “Not a chance. Your mother is on her way.”
Kent said, “She’ll probably get here faster than Black’s people, then.”
“I don’t figure you can stop me,” Brooke said, crossing her arms.
Abram paused, thoughts racing, but settled on the approach he hoped might work. He said, “You cannot go running into the night screaming about conspiracy theories all by yourself. You need Miranda, or Misty, and you need to do it smartly.”
“Safely,” Kent said, scowling. “That means we use stealth, not hope and prayers.”
Abram nodded. “That’s exactly right. She and Misty can then go out in secret, singing the same song, all without alerting Black for as long as possible.”
Owen said, “That could work. We’ll want to have a fast evac plan, if it goes south on you.”
Brooke, arms still crossed, leaned up against Kent. “Bah. I ’spect his army will just walk away, once they hear the truth.”
Abram looked Kent in the eyes and said, “But even if they don’t, I doubt they’ll be so full of piss-and-vinegar to avenge those who died when you declined their kind offer.”
Brooke snorted. “Kind offer, to either be their slaves or die.”
Abram shrugged. “Yes. But after they find out what Black did to your father, even if they don’t just throw in the towel, it’ll put us on the moral high ground. Morale, you see.”
Owen said, “And tell them how Gary murdered a man in cold blood, on the bridge, before they ever made even one demand.”
Kent let out a deep rumble in his throat, growling. Then, he said, “A good man, too. A man with kids.”
“That, too.” Abram nodded. “Our time’s running out. They’re coming. Kent, you should get your reserve troops up and ready, and get the hospital on standby.”
“Yep. I’ll want to start handing out more ammo, too. I was surprised how fast we burned through it, in a real firefight.”
Owen nodded. “Okay, time to get it going.”
“All right,” Kent said. “They’ll have most of their army here in less than an hour, you know what I’m saying?”
Frank said, “Nope. No idea.”
Owen glared at him. “Stop that. You do know.” He looked back at Kent. “Go on, what else did you have to say?”
“That was it.” Kent raised one eyebrow.
Brooke said, “Find me a tape recorder and blank tapes, if any exist. Or walkie-talkies. We can hand them out to Black’s army, my friends and family, on the down-low.”
“No good,” Kent replied, resting his cheek on Brooke’s hair atop her head. “We got maybe ten of those. Our squads need those more.”
Danny said, “It’ll be night, soon, yeah? So, Abram, you’ll have to track Gary—you know him best, and what he looks like.”
Kent grinned. “And guide Brooke around them enemy lines, so she don’t run into him. If he somehow recognized her…”
“That would be dangerous,” Abram finished for him. “Gary has probably seen her, and he’d remember her. Trust me. I’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen, that’s all. But we have to wait until Miranda—”
“Misty,” Brooke said flatly.
“…until Misty gets here. The two of you together, singing the same song, have more credibility than both of you two individually.”
Owen nodded. “They’ll be here within ten minutes, I bet. Misty has a car, and they’re taking back roads. So sayeth the radio.”
Kent clicked into his walkie-talkie. “Dean, get your khaki-wearing butt over here with two more handhelds. We got plans. Hurry up.”
He smiled down at Brooke. “Babe, get your running shoes, and lace up. You might need them.”
The walkie-talkie crackled, “This is Dean. Roger that, two walkie-talkies en route to your location. Be advised, that leaves only one for each squad, and one master unit for the radio room.”
“Fair enough.”
Dean’s voice continued, “Kent, got a status update for you. Scouts reporting a four-door car, green, Lincoln, moving south along the A-4 farm road at a high rate of speed. ETA two mikes. Looks like the one you told me about, Brooke’s mother? And before you ask, there’s no sign of pursuit.”
“Copy that.” Kent pulled the hand unit away from his mouth, then said, “Brooke, that road comes in by the old Fix-n-Fuel. Go see your momma, then you both get back over here quick so we can plan the plan, safe as we can. There’s not much time before Black gets his people over here, and real quick after that, they start throwing bullets at us, I bet.”
Brooke reached up, pulled Kent’s head down to hers, and kissed him passionately for just long enough to start making Abram uncomfortable. When she let go, she grinned, and then ran.
Once she rounded a corner out of sight, Kent turned back to Abram and the others. “Wait here for Dean, my security chief, with them radios. Make sure Brooke gets one, but don’t let her out of here before I get back. I got duties to handle, but I’ll be back before the bullets fly.”
With that, Abram was left alone with Owen, Frank, and surprisingly, Danny. There was no guardian watching them, for once. Abram sighed, powerless to do anything but wait and hating every second of it.
43
Gary stood tapping his foot as the first pair of headlights drew closer and slowed to a halt. He walked to the driver’s window and motioned the window down. Whoever was driving was smart and obeyed right away. Once it was down a couple inches, Gary snarled, “It’s about time, numb-nuts. Get your ass in back, I’m driving. Move it.”
The driver dove into the back, squishing the two rifle-armed men back there, but Gary didn’t pay them any heed; as soon as his butt hit the seat and his feet hit the pedals, he romped on the gas and the car lurched forward. An SUV would have been more comfortable, but screw waiting.
Over his shoulder, Gary said, “Someone give me their rifle. Hurry up about it.”
He grabbed the barrel that slid forward between his shoulder and the passenger’s, then set the barrel over the open window and the butt into the center console. One glance told him it was a Remington 700 scoped rifle. “What’s in the mag, is there one in the chamber, and how are you sighted in?” he asked. He had low hopes the idiot who would hand over his rifle would know all three of those things, but it was worth a shot.
From the back, one said, “Um, five, yes with the safety on, and I think it’s an eight-times scope?”
Yep. Moron. The engine roared as Gary stomped harder on the gas in irritation. Over the din, he called back, “One more try. Did you click the clickey things on the scope-y thing? How many clickey things did you click it?”
“I, uh…yes?”
Gary grit his teeth and didn’t bother asking more questions. It wasn’t worth the irritation. Besides, he’d find out soon enough, and he only needed the guy’s rifle long enough for the defenders to kill someone with a better weapon. Something more satisfying. An illegal AK-74 with full auto would be nice…
Another question occurred to him suddenly. “How far back is the grenade launcher technical?”
The passenger answered, thankfully not the same jerkwad. “Sir, two vehicles left with us, an SUV and a pickup with an LMG mounted to the roof, gunner in the truck bed. The boom-boom guns must be somewhere behind us. They were trying to lug a case of ammo to the truck bed still, when we pulled out to come get you.”
Gary shook his head and muttered, “Never pull out for anyone, numb-nuts.”
“What, sir?”
“I said, ‘Bust the nut, then pull out.’ I’ll spell it out for the slow kids at the back…Bring your big guns with you when you idiots drive away to start a war, so someone like me doesn’t take your rifle—without a fight, even—and kill you with it. Because I think it’s probably smarter to wait for, you know, superior firepower.”
Ahead, the winding forest road opened into blackness. That had to be the forest edge. An image of an ATV horde streaming out from between the trees, ruining his day, came to mind. “Lord, let them try that crap now.”
No one asked him to repeat himself, thankfully. Apparently, they worried he might jam their own rifles right down “main street” and fire. A reasonable fear, at the moment, but for the other team. Gary didn’t kill his own people out of frustration. No, he let them live long enough to soak up bullets so more useful people didn’t have to do it. Speaking of which…“When I slam the brakes and we stop, get out ASAP and circle the car. Three toward Buttsville, one covering the rear. You know, so you don’t get shot in the back like the last idiot I drove with. That jerk was asking to get himself killed, and damn near took me with him. Any of you turds get me killed, I’m taking your punk-ass with me. You understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” a couple voices muttered, afraid to reply and afraid not to, probably.
Gary almost smiled at that. Almost. They were learning.
He glanced in the side mirror and saw three pairs of headlights snaking along the road behind him
. He wondered who the third car was. They must have driven crazy fast to catch up, given that there had been only two other cars when Gary had gotten in and drove away. Motivation was a good thing.
Three…two…one…
Gary slammed the brakes, sending his unsuspecting rear-seat passengers flying into the front seats. The poor guy he’d basically thrown in back to make room might have flown into the windshield, if he hadn’t first collided with the other two guys back there. Gary didn’t spare time to relish the sight of clowns acting like clowns, though. Instead, he flung the door open and dove out, going prone and taking aim under the car door.
Behind him, the crunch of tires on rocks accompanied the three following vehicles veering to either side to avoid rear-ending the lead car. Gary ignored it and scanned the town’s leading edge through the scope. Yup, it really was an 8x scope, and details were crystal clear, even in the low-light conditions, though everything was green. It looked like a high-resolution image on a monochrome monitor, one of those ancient ones that only showed green…
There. Got you.
Gary aimed his crosshairs at his first target, some small person’s chest. He held his breath, and squeezed. Bang, the rifle went off, and he watched through the scope; the round struck slightly up and right of where he’d aimed, striking the collar bone of what turned out to be a young teenage male.
Well, you can’t make an “example omelet” without breaking every damn egg in the carton.
He moved the scope’s vertical and horizontal sight adjustments by a few clicks in the appropriate directions, confident that his next shot would hit his mark. For the teen he’d just killed, he suffered not one ounce of guilt. Slaughtering every man, woman, and child in town would be a tragic waste, but one that would serve as a vivid reminder to every other town in Vermont so he didn’t have to murder any more kids at every town they came across. It was like fighting the biggest kid in school on his first day at every new high school—if he hurt them badly enough, they were too afraid to come back at him later.
EMP Crisis Series (Book 3): Instant Mayhem Page 33
