Free State Of Dodge

by Javan Bonds

  Jeff shook his head. Redstone must not have kept his father up to date on anything. “Hollis, my nephew. He has a crazy story to tell, and you should hear it firsthand.”

  Jeff began walking to the hallway and ultimately to the heavy door in the closet. Keith and Old Ben immediately began to follow, but Jackson, his mother, and Redstone all remained in the living room, drinking sweet tea in silence.

  Denise broke the two men’s comfortable silence by turning her head to Redstone, who had moved to get a seat on the couch. “So, has Whitney read any good books lately?”

  Redstone had no idea what stupid vampire books his wife had been reading and did not give a rat’s ass. Rather than responding “Fifty Shades of Gay” with a wicked grin, he spontaneously changed subjects to turn all the attention to Jackson. “Did Jackson tell you about his new girlfriend?”

  Denise quickly turned to face her son and forgot that Redstone had basically ignored her question about his wife. “Where did you meet her? What’s her name? Where is she from? It’s about time you met a nice girl!”

  If looks could kill, Redstone would have exploded at Jackson’s glare. Jackson blushed before responding. “It’s Lacey Rice. She graduated a few years after we did, and I met her a couple of weeks ago.” He thought about it for a moment. “And she’s not my girlfriend. It’s not like we’ve been to the movies or anything.”

  Realization briefly crossed his mother’s face. “She’s Glynavis’s daughter! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why haven’t you brought her over here?”

  As usual, Jackson was being crushed under the onslaught of concerned questions. “I was going to,” he said in defense as an answer to both questions, and then he continued, “I’ve been to her house only a couple of times.”

  But Redstone interrupted. “You mean a couple of times a day, maybe.”

  Jackson glared at Redstone and, remembering, added, “Oh, and her mama said hey.”

  They sat there for what felt like hours to Jackson, who attempted to will the room into silence by only answering the embarrassing questions his mother asked. She would indefinitely keep asking questions that Jackson did not want to answer—while Redstone enjoyed every moment of his friend’s suffering. Occasionally Jackson gave an evil “I’m going to kill you when we get outside” glare in the direction of the redhead.

  Denise reworded one of her initial questions. “Where did you say you hooked up with her again?”

  Jesus Christ, Mama. We didn’t “hook up”; stop trying to use modern lingo. She may have phrased the question incorrectly, but he knew she was just asking about where they had met. And Redstone knew it too, though he was on the verge of passing out from containing his laughter and rolling his eyes. “I went to school with her.”

  “Were you in the same class?” asked his mother.

  Realizing that would not be enough of an answer for her, he added, “But I really didn’t know her very well in school. I met her a few weeks ago; she used to work at the Texaco.”

  Denise figured Lacey would have been laid off upon the power failure, and the look in Jackson’s eyes caused her to realize the girl had been working the day of that shootout he had been involved in. And even though no one had gotten hurt, it must have been a very traumatic experience, especially for a young woman. She was opening her mouth to say something to move away from that topic when the attention of the three was jerked to the sound of the vault door opening. They watched and waited as the other adults, followed by Hollis, entered from the hallway.

  Jeff and old Ben came around the corner. The elder Pike found no need to announce their presence, since the occupants of the living room were looking their way. Keith followed closely, and Hollis lagged behind the others. Standing beside his son at the end of the couch, Keith seemed to be nervous and surprised and excited all at once. “That was a crazy fu—reaking story! This only happens in the movies!” While he did not dump profanities into every sentence, excitement especially loosened Keith’s tongue and his almost mistake and save again proved to Jackson that everyone watched their mouths around Denise Pike regardless of age.

  As Keith began to summarize Hollis’s story to his son, Redstone told his father that he had already heard it; now everyone in the house had been made aware of their guest and why he needed to be kept safe, so he could get his story heard. The group had discussed not only the government conspiracy while in the bunker but also more details of how the bridge crossing would play out.

  CHAPTER 25

  July 25

  AS THEY HAD discussed, Keith slowed his truck—with a bed full of vegetable baskets—and stopped at the hand signals of one of the two uniformed National Guardsmen. Jeff, his son, the Jedi Master, and Redstone sat camouflaged in a small huddle, unseen, in the woods to the east. They had decided this would be a convenient observation position because this area on this side of the highway was lightly populated. And with the sun just rising above the trees behind them, it would be impossible for the soldiers to see them.

  Redstone was, as usual, sleepy and barely able to hold his head up at this time of the morning. But Jackson, after several cups of coffee before beginning the hike, was wide awake. Redstone made the journey seem even longer by complaining about how early it was and making a pit stop every few trees. Redstone whined so much, Jackson threatened to shoot him several times on the long trek. Redstone encouraged it and said a bullet “would be less painful than this cross-country marathon.”

  Each of the four men was armed with at least one sidearm and an SKS with a composite stock, a twenty-round clip (with additional reloads), and a high-magnification scope. Keith agreed he should not have a weapon, so, though uncomfortable, he was completely unarmed.

  Jeff watched the scene at the bridge through his riflescope. Keith came to a complete stop and rolled down his window as one National Guardsman approached with his right hand on his pistol. Jeff was unsure of what exactly was being said, but he and Keith had worked out every possible question, answer, and response from either side, and Jeff was attempting to read lips. The other guardsman approached holding his assault rifle, but he was paying more attention to the highway in both directions than to the discussion between his fellow guardsman and the civilian in the truck.

  Old Ben occasionally raised his rifle and peered into the woods behind them whenever he heard the slightest noise, which always happened to be a squirrel or a bird or something else only his Jedi senses could detect. Keith held both empty hands over the lip of the door, and Jeff knew they had asked for his identification when he made slow and exaggerated movements to show he was reaching for his billfold. He opened his wallet and showed his ID to the soldier, who walked over to a Humvee at the edge of the road. Jeff was pretty sure he was using a radio or a phone.

  “His license says he is Keith Stone. Yes, County Road Seventy-Seven.”

  Private Freeman was casually watching for any travelers who would occasionally use the highway and could hear only one end of the conversation that Specialist Green was having with, obviously, Sherman. Even though every squad member’s name was the name of a recently dead National Guardsman, and Marcus Green’s real name was Danny Martin, they had been trained to think of themselves and their teammates as their assigned aliases. Green had been stationed at this bridge most of the time with Freeman, so he was the only close friend Freeman had on this mission. None of the squad members could figure out Sherman’s real name, and, with his refusal to divulge the information, the rest of the squad had secretly begun a betting pool until someone could figure it out. Freeman and several others had compared Sherman to Robert Downey, Jr.’s character in Tropic Thunder—everyone was sure he had some sort of psychological problem, and there had even been some claims that the Midwestern accent he had was also fake.

  Regardless of the stability of the sergeant first class, he scared the shit out of everyone under his command, and Freeman was positive, considering the way Green held the receiver away from his ear and occasionally cringed when a res
ponse came, who was on the other end of the line. Freeman could see that Sherman was explaining something detailed to Green, who still seemed confused and looked at this Stone guy with complete ignorance.

  “Pike? This dude is just trying to sell some fruit or something.” Green responded to the caller on the radio.

  Pike? Freeman thought for a minute and remembered the name. Some guy named Pike had come to that stupid town hall meeting and had really pissed Sherman off. Freeman had been one of the guardsmen at the meeting, and he was fairly sure this guy wasn’t him. Maybe they were buddies or neighbors. That would make sense after the mention of his address.

  That was what Freeman was guessing, anyway, when Green, still unsure why he was being given the orders that Sherman was screaming at him, took his pistol from his belt, held it at his side, and placed the handset back in the Humvee after confirming, “Yes sir! We will arrest him and give him some reason.”

  A few feet away from the vehicle, Green shouted at Stone, “Sir, please slowly exit the vehicle while keeping both hands in plain sight, and get on your knees, with your hands on your head!”

  Keith slowly lifted his right hand, used his left to open the door from the outside, and proceeded to get out.

  Well, we didn’t even think about this, Jeff thought as he tightened the butt of the rifle against his shoulder.

  “What the fuck are they doing?” Redstone asked in a barely audible whisper.

  All four observers were now watching through their scopes the scene unfolding at the bridge. The scene seemed to have awakened Redstone, and the other men could feel his confusion and panic for his father. Jeff had no explanation and could not think of any reason this would be happening. He didn’t know what say to the young man whose father was being arrested before them.

  Redstone was fully awake now, and Jeff, noticing the intensity with which the younger man was grasping his rifle and thumping his finger against the trigger guard, was worried he would just shoot the soldiers. He was pretty sure Redstone had never even fired a gun in the line of duty and positive the policeman had never shot anyone, but a different Redstone was staring down that scope—one who would do whatever needed to be done for his family.

  Jackson must have been on the same line of thought as his father and comforted his friend. “Take it easy, man. They’ll arrest him, and we’ll just go argue with Sherman.”

  Redstone said in a low growl, “I’ll just break his fucking nose.”

  Jackson bit back a laugh and turned to see that old Ben was mouthing something silently, no doubt rehearsing his speech on the violation of Keith’s rights.

  “You are a suspect!” Green said as he trained his pistol on the kneeling Keith.

  Keith replied with irritation, “Suspected of what? I ain’t done nothing.”

  Specialist Green searched for a reason. “You think I give a shit? Kiss the fucking pavement, Grandpa!” Sherman wanted this guy detained, and Green would do what needed to be done to stay on the sergeant first class’s good side.

  He was just reaching into his belt pouch for a pair of zip-tie handcuffs when Keith asked, as the elder smartass of his family, “Ain’t you going to read me my rights?”

  Green paused and then said, not completely sure, “Uh…You have the right to remain silent…Uh…Anything you say—”

  Keith chuckled and interrupted. “I’m jerking your chain, son. Just hurry it up; I want to get home if you ain’t going to let me cross the bridge.”

  Green moved to walk behind Stone to cuff him and noticed the man looking forward and smiling. “Marcus?” Freeman asked in panic.

  ◆◆◆

  “I don’t give a shit! It ain’t your daddy!” Redstone was trying to yell and whisper at the same time. Jeff and Redstone were ready to get into a fistfight with each other, Jeff refusing to allow the group to move and Redstone demanding they rescue his father.

  The wise old sage defused the tension, calmly stating, “I doubt they are stupid enough to hurt him, but making a move now really won’t affect the story that will be told. The devil is in the details.”

  Redstone smiled at Jeff as if the Jedi Master were taking his side and immediately turned to walk out of the woods.

  “Redstone!” Jeff called after him. Receiving no response, he dropped his head shaking it, and said with a tired voice, “Well, come on, then” as he turned to follow the damned cop.

  Jackson looked at Old Ben with confusion, but the old man merely shrugged and silently stalked behind the others. Jackson didn’t feel good about this, and he looked up at the sky as if to ask, “Why, God?” before quickly catching up with the two older men.

  Jackson and company were close but not yet within speaking distance. Green walked backward to join Freeman, who was already nervously watching these interlopers with the civilian’s truck as a shield. These guys were armed with what looked like assault rifles but did not appear openly hostile. They weren’t wearing uniforms, and Green’s mind was racing for an answer as to who the hell they were. They were wearing light, mismatched hunting camouflage, and there were four of them. If this was some kind of a redneck attack, Green was trying to discern why he and Freeman were not already dead.

  Freeman asked in a hushed panic, “What the hell is going on?”

  Green had no idea, but Freeman already had his rifle up over the hood of the truck, and the only cover the four could get to in the field they were traversing was the occasional hay bale. The first newcomer seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, as he was almost running in their direction. When he reached the ditch on the opposite side of the highway, red hair peeked out from under his cap, and he lifted his rifle one handed, not particularly at the men in front of him but in their general direction.

  “You all right, Daddy?”

  “Daddy?” Green realized this dude was speaking to the Stone guy, who was still in a kneeling position and had been chuckling since the four had emerged from the woods. Their voices were noticeably similar enough that they seemed to be father and son.

  “Yeah, I’ll make it. These two dutiful civil servants were just about to escort me to town hall.”

  This old guy was a smartass, and even Green had to smile at the remark. Green knew he had to do something before those other three guys procured their position, and he quickly stepped around the back of the truck and leveled his pistol at the guy on his knees. Mr. Camouflage wasn’t going to do anything stupid if he thought his daddy might accidentally get a bullet in his head.

  When the soldier with the pistol stepped behind Keith, Redstone trained his rifle on him and took a firmer grip. His father froze, the three men behind him hurried to take up position behind the nearest hay bales, and the soldier with the rifle began to shake and appeared to be mouthing a prayer.

  “That’s a really shitty idea: if you do that, neither one of you is walking away from here.” There was ice in Redstone’s voice, and the soldier appeared to think about it.

  “Probably not, but neither will he if you don’t all put down your weapons.” The soldier raised his voice so the three men still in the field could hear.

  This had become a hostage negotiation, and even though they were outnumbered two to one, this guardsman was dumb enough to think his side could come out on top. Redstone would not let his father get shot, but neither would he surrender and let these soldiers arrest them all.

  Old Ben sighed. He would have to go up there and talk the soldiers into giving up.

  “Are you fucking retarded? Dude, you are outnumbered; there’s no way you can win.” Redstone growled.

  This civilian standing on the other side of the road was laughing.

  I don’t want to die, but I have something you want, thought Green, who slightly turned his head to the right. “Freeman!”

  The nervous private answered, “Sir?”

  “Put your rifle on the back of this guy’s head, and if they move wrong, smear his brains on the asphalt!”

  “Sir, yes sir!” Green didn’t really look at
Freeman, so he didn’t see that the other soldier didn’t change his aim from the general direction of the field. He was too scared to do anything but watch the rifles pointing at him.

  One of the guys in the field, who was not wearing a cap, exposing his gray hair, began walking casually to the front, his rifle slung over his shoulder. This made Green tense up with suspicion.

  The guy on his knees dropped his hands. “You know—”

  That was as far as he got because so much movement caused Green to act on instinct and fire one round into the back of the hostage’s head.

  Old Ben immediately fell to a crouch when the shot rang out and ducked behind the nearest hay bale, which was, coincidently, the one Jeff was taking cover behind. The old man asked, “Who fired?”

  Jeff still had his rifle rested over the top of the hay bale and had the pistol-wielding soldier in his sights, but he was unwilling to fire with Redstone almost directly in front of him.

  Green had just done something that contradicted his training: he had reacted rather than acted. Before the body of the hostage hit the ground, Freeman was sitting with his back against the wheel of the truck, holding his rifle by the barrel pointing straight up, with the butt on the ground between his knees. He had not truly been trained as a soldier willing to give his life. He was a DHS agent sent on a mission to kill for his government. Panic crossed Green’s features as he moved his eyes to the son of the father he had just executed only a few feet away. He had just blown away the only thing keeping him alive, and he knew it.

  Redstone did not speak, did not scream, and did not even move a muscle; his eyes grew impossibly wide, still staring at the National Guardsman where he had been standing before he pulled the trigger. If the guardsman spoke, Redstone could not hear it, unable to notice anything through his anger and murderous hatred. In the eternal second it took for the two men’s eyes to meet, Redstone moved his rifle up and fired one handed. Then, taking a firmer grasp with the next shot, he fired one bullet between each word and slowly stepped forward to stand there with the soldier. “You”—left leg—“stupid”—right knee—“fucking”—crotch—“bastard!”