Innocent Shadows

by Warren Ray

  “I’ll get with him and see what’s up,” said Bassett.

  “Okay, do that, but in the meantime let’s get into our groups and make sure everyone is ready to press on,” said Scar.

  Chapter 9

  Sabine Iowa

  Winters’ blood began to boil thinking how he did not want to disappoint his new family of Patriots. Not only would they never even know he was dead, but they would think he just ran off on them. He couldn’t let that happen. The noise of the crowd became louder as it came closer and grew in size. He took a deep breath knowing what he was about to do wasn’t going to be pretty and would only cement what everybody already thought about him. He’d never be able to come back to this town again, but at that moment he didn’t care as he felt Mister Hyde bubbling back up. He was being forced to kill old people, but he didn’t have any choice.

  “I’ve got me a hanging noose,” said the old man carrying a long thick rope and another smaller one. “Bring him down here, Timmy.”

  “You heard ‘em, get down here.”

  Winters glared at him. “Screw you.”

  Tim raised the shotgun aiming it right at Winters’ face.

  “Get. Down. Here.”

  “Go to hell…Tiny Tim,” said Winters in a taunting voice knowing the grandson hated the derogatory name.

  His face turned red and he stomped up on the porch. He swung the shotgun using the butt end to strike Winters in the gut.

  Winters tightened his stomach muscles knowing what was coming. He hoped Tim would come at him and try to knock him to the ground. The blow hurt but didn’t cause him to lose his breath. Winters keeled over in exaggerated pain and reached down to his ankle for the Ruger SR-22 that Sadie gave him. He pulled the small gun out and waited for Timmy to grab onto him.

  “Get your sorry ass up,” said Tim, grabbing Winters’ jacket collar.

  A determined expression formed on Winters’ face as he got up on his knees and pointed the hidden Ruger into Tim’s groin. He pulled the trigger as he rose up to meet Tim’s eyes. Excited eyes turned to bewilderment. The gun report sounded like a firecracker and confused Judith who stood behind them. Ed was still on the walkway and backed away after hearing the bang and his grandson’s screaming. Winters grabbed the smaller man by the throat to hold him up as he pulled the trigger again. The bullet ripped into his stomach and he began to cough up blood. Tim began to go limp, but Winters forced him to stand up to use him as a shield. He spun them around just as Judith raised her .38 and without hesitation, Winters pointed the Ruger at her face. A small mist of blood splattered against the screen door as she crumpled to the wooden floor.

  Ed let out a blood-curdling scream while dropping the hanging noose to pull out a Taurus 9mm from his waistband. Winters let go of his shield and aimed at the slower man. The old man’s hand shook as he pulled back the slide. Winters had him beat and ordered him to stop. The old man didn’t and managed to fire a round that went wide. Winters shook his head and fired a single shot into the man’s forehead. The impact tossed him on his back and he shook for a moment before dying. Winters bent down to pick up the 9mm and heard Tim crying in pain.

  Winters walked over to him. “Ya should have just pulled the trigger.”

  The wounded man tried to spit at him, but only managed to hurl blood on himself.

  Winters aimed the 9mm at his head and squeezed the trigger. He then jumped off the porch to the approaching crowd. Some ducked for cover while others pointed weapons at him. Mister Hyde was in full control as Winters marched toward them with confident strides. A few more peeled off, but a couple of foolish ones stood their ground. Winters raised the old man’s 9mm and fired off a few shots. A round hit a man in the leg, and he fell to the ground. Winters continued toward them without hesitation. The crowd sensed he wasn’t going to stop and picked up their friend to drag him to safety.

  Winters willed himself to stop. It was pointless to continue as he had already made the statement that he was not to be messed with. He stopped mid-stride and tried to slow his breathing down. Everyone hid from him except for the little girl and her mother who stood their ground and stared at him. The girl was about Sadie’s age, and she didn’t avert her eyes when he met them. That she had to witness the shootout caused a pang of regret to sweep over him, but then he rationalized that it was her mother’s fault for bringing her.

  Winters smiled at her hoping she’d return it. It took a moment, but she did, and he was surprised by how much it meant to him. A child gave him back a glimmer of humanity, and Winters ate it up as he turned around to go back to the van.

  He got in the van and watched the crowd disperse. They were no longer interested in him. Everybody was leaving except for the mother and child who had begun to walk toward the van.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Winters asked aloud.

  The young mother held onto her daughter’s hand and stopped fifteen feet away. Winters stared at her realizing thinking she looked familiar. She wasn’t scared of him and it appeared she wanted to talk.

  Winters looked around before opening the door. He shoved the 9mm in the small of his back and walked over to her.

  “Mister Winters, it’s me, Ashley.”

  Winters tried to remember where he knew her from. The long brown haired girl was five-foot four and probably didn’t weigh but a hundred pounds. She was gaunt in the face and looked like she needed food. Her daughter appeared to be much better fed, and Winters figured she had sacrificed to make sure the little girl had enough to eat.

  “I used to baby-sit Cara.”

  Winters tilted his head to the side. “Of course, Ashley. I’m sorry, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you and you’ve grown up. And is this your daughter?”

  “Yes sir, this is Kaitlyn.”

  Winters knelt down to the young girl, who looked just like her mother. “Hello, Kaitlyn.”

  She moved behind her mother.

  “She’s a little shy.” Ashley looked at her daughter and said, “Say hello, honey. He’s not gonna hurt ya.”

  “Hello,” she said in a weak tone.

  “And how old are you?”

  “I’m nine.”

  “Wow, you’re practically a lady,” remembering the quote from his daughter’s favorite movie.

  She broke out in a big grin.

  “I’m sorry you had to see all of that,” said Winters to the shy girl, but directed it toward Ashley.

  “I heard what was happening, which is why I rushed up here. I wanted to try to talk some sense into those fools. I know you didn’t do what they said you did.”

  Winters stood back up. “You do?”

  “Of course! You couldn’t do those things, but some people like the Shermans will believe anything. Tim was nothing but white trash anyway, and he helped spread the biggest lie around town.”

  “Which lie?”

  Ashley hesitated. “That you killed your wife.”

  Winters shook his head at the lie Cara bought into as well. It was the one lie that bothered him the most, which is why the government used it.

  “We all know you wife died of cancer, but that fool said it was BS and that he knew because he lived across the street.”

  “So, who burned my house down?”

  “The Shermans and a bunch of others. They made it into a big party. I’m really sorry about all of this,” she said sincerely.

  Winters was curious if she was doing okay and wanted to find out about her husband.

  “May I ask where your husband is?”

  “He’s off fighting in the war. Haven’t heard from him in eight months, so I’m not holding out much hope.”

  Winters was shocked to hear her talk this way in front of her daughter.

  Ashley noticed his concern. “It’s okay. I’m very up front with her. It’s been really rough around here so we need to stay in reality.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “Dad left for the Patriot Center six months ago, and mom died of a heart
attack shortly after.”

  Winters fought to control his eyes when he heard about her dad knowing he was already dead. At this point, it didn’t do any good telling her about the Patriots Centers. She had no brothers and sisters to depend on, and it didn’t appear she was getting along well. She looked malnourished and in need of a good meal. If she didn’t stay healthy her daughter wouldn’t survive.

  “Ashley, I too, want to stay in reality and I have to say you don’t look well.”

  Her tone changed. “Like I said it’s been pretty rough here.”

  “I can see that. How have you been surviving?”

  Ashley’s face went ashen, and Winters suspected something was going on.

  “Well, it’s been hard you know, I mean, we all got to do what we got to do to survive.”

  Winters put a hand on her shoulders. “What exactly have you been doing?”

  Ashley looked at her daughter and then toward the ground. She had something to get off her chest. He wasn’t sure if she was struggling to say it in front of her daughter or just saying it at all.

  “I, uh, you know, I uh, I get, like, passed around.”

  Winters raised an eyebrow. “You do this for food then?”

  “Yes, sir.” She looked back up at him. “Please don’t judge me.”

  Her eyes were full of shame but the poor girl had a daughter to feed and would do anything to make sure that happened.

  “Ashley, I would never judge you. You do what you have to do for your daughter, okay?”

  Tears began to form in her hazel eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  “It’s okay. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

  She gave him a half nod.

  “Ashley, I need you to tell me, who is doing this to you?”

  She nodded and began to tell him the story of what was going on in the town of Sabine, Iowa. Winters fought to control his reaction to hearing how his hometown had fallen into the abyss.

  Chapter 10

  Jackson Michigan

  Scar needed to talk to Gunnery Sergeant Nordell to find out where he stood. The men were angry at what happened this morning and had begun to question his loyalty. He and Bassett had been looking for him for a couple of hours and then he ran into him quite by accident. The mob from the executions had dispersed and the streets were once again empty except for Nordell, who was crossing the street heading toward city hall.

  Nordell surprised Scar when he greeted him in a friendly way. “Scar, hey, hope you can forgive me for this morning.”

  “Wasn’t the right thing to do, Gunny,” said Scar not convinced of his sincerity.

  “Hey, with Winters leaving and the way the town was out for blood? Let’s just say it’s been a crazy couple of weeks and leave it that,” said Nordell, holding his hand out.

  Scar was taken off guard. He certainly hadn’t expected this from Nordell but was glad for it. He needed him on his side and didn’t want him infecting any of the citizens or his men. He grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake.

  “Semper fi,” said Nordell.

  Scar gave him an acquiescent nod. “You on your way to see the mayor?”

  “I am. Why don’t you join me? We need to talk about the current food supply or lack thereof.”

  They headed up the stairs and found Mayor Simpson at his desk going over some papers. The mayor waved them in and got up to offer them coffee. He appeared as frail as ever and looked even more tired than usual. Scar considered bringing up the execution but decided against it having just gotten the feeling Nordell was going to cooperate again. There was no sense in getting into an argument over something that wasn’t going to happen again.

  Mayor Simpson ambled around to get their drinks before sitting down.

  “It’s used grounds. I’m afraid we’re running low.”

  Nordell turned to Scar. “We’re running out of a lot of things.”

  Simpson poured each of them a cup of lighter than usual coffee.

  “How much food do we have left?” asked Scar.

  “Roughly fifty boxes of canned goods, but only five hundred pounds of wheat,” said Simpson. “That’s barely a thousand loaves.”

  Scar gave him a curious look.

  Simpson noticed and said, “I used to own a bakery.”

  “I did not know that,” said Scar setting his cup down.

  Simpson started punching numbers on a calculator. “I’d say we only have three maybe four more days of bread left.”

  “The rice and beans will run out just a few days after,” said Nordell.

  “Any suggestions?” asked Simpson.

  Scar moved his head from side to side. They still had over a thousand people to move to safety. It was going to take much longer than three or four days. What they needed was a new supply of food and a way to get it to Jackson. He thought about the mission in Grosse Pointe and being out on the water when an idea struck him. They could take boats across Lake Saint Claire into Canada and bring back some supplies. Because of the fuel shortage, it would be easier than driving north through Michigan into the UP before crossing into Canada.

  “What if we could get some supplies out of Canada?” asked Scar.

  “I’ve given that some thought as well,” said Nordell. “Those boats you guys took. They’d be able to bring back quite a load of flour.”

  “Yes, they would,” said Scar.

  “Can we not just get everyone out of here?” asked Simpson.

  Nordell shifted in his chair. “It’s taking too long.”

  “I agree,” said Scar rethinking the mission tonight to move citizens.

  “Then let’s take a boat ride tonight,” said Nordell.

  The three of them looked at each other and agreed.

  Scar left City Hall with a clear goal of what to do next. Instead of moving more citizens out, they would set off for Canada. He’d have to get with Burns and Bassett to go over the mission. Burns’s experience with boats would make him the best choice to lead the expedition to Canada. He wasn’t sure how many people should go or who else to send. Would they need money? Perhaps once they got into Canada, they could call General Standish in Winnipeg and ask for assistance. He’d be happy to get a status report and help them out any way he could. Maybe even get word to Major Green on their status as well. What he also hoped for was to get an update on his activities. The last he’d heard was that Green had put together a group of well-connected people and was trying to take down two characters named Gerald Perozzi and Lawrence Reed.

  Chapter 11

  Washington D.C.

  Picking up the phone, Lawrence Reed was pleased to hear Lieutenant Wagner’s voice on the other end. Reed had asked him earlier to look into who could have falsified Motor Vehicle documents and to do a background check on Stormy Robinson. Wagner was in his early thirties and worked for the National Police. He had entertained Cara Winters while she was in town and was quite proficient in doing investigative work. He had come up the ranks in the ATF and transferred to the National Police when the ATF was eliminated.

  “What do you have for me, Lieutenant?”

  “Not much from Motor Vehicles.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s a tough nut to crack over there. There are so many different departments with numerous staff members and any one of them could have forged those docs.”

  “Government at its best, I see,” said a disappointed Reed.

  “I can keep digging, but I think it’s a waste of time.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “Now she’s more interesting, at least to look at anyway.”

  Reed sat up straighter in his chair.

  “New York model. She did runway and high fashion work for a while. No problems that I can see. Cycled out after ten years. Ended up doing some photo shoots for sports magazines, that sort of thing.”

  “Where is she from?” asked Reed.

  “Let me look here…Minnesota, Brainerd, Minnesota.”

  Reed’s face went flush. He tried
to remain calm and didn’t respond right away. Not many people, not even in the National Police, knew the full story on Brainerd, or any of the other goings on in the Midwest, and he wasn’t sure if Wagoner was one of them. He liked to keep things compartmentalized as much as possible. Few people knew about the Patriot Centers and only a select few knew who was responsible for the bombings in the Midwest.

  “Where does she live?” asked Reed.

  “Don’t have a current address on her.”

  “Find out and make it a priority,” ordered Reed. “Also, find out who her friends were in New York. I want them interviewed.”

  “No problem.”

  Reed hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair thinking about Stormy. It was too much of a coincidence that she was from Brainerd and now working where he and Perozzi frequented. Reed grabbed a glass and poured a drink from the crystal decanter. He swished the Scotch around a few times before taking a sip. How did she even know? And who in the hell is she working with? He took another sip, finishing it off. He started to pour another one but stopped once he realized she was the key to all of this. If he was right, then this was the best lead they had and she could point out all of her accomplices. He laughed to himself thinking how easy it would be to get such a pretty girl to talk. She wouldn’t be able to take any pain and would give up names in no time. He would have Wagner bring her in for questioning as soon as he finished her background check.

  Reed finished pouring the second drink and began to take a sip when he started to fidget and tap his fingers. What if she caught wind they were investigating her? It wouldn’t take but a phone call from a friend in New York to tip her off and then she’d go into hiding. They’d never be able to find her. It was amazing how well they’d been able to hide so far. He decided to have Wagner pick her up right away. He knew where she worked so they wouldn’t have to bother finding out where she lived.

  He grabbed the phone and called Wagner back.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want you to arrest this girl tonight at work.”