Free State Of Dodge
Page 24
The oldest man in the room turned around to face them with a perplexed look. “Well, if the young man leaves the property, the motion detectors will alert us, yes?”
Old Ben seemed confident this would help them find Hollis, but Jackson shot down his hopes and dreams. “Nope. He knows about those. He’ll probably crawl under without even touching the fence. I told him how to do it.” He remembered how he had told Hollis stories of how his father had caught him sneaking out in high school using these devices and what he should have done to get around them.
His father looked at him with wide-eyed shock, and Jackson quickly realized he needed to defend himself. “No, not like that! It was a long time ago. I was just telling him about how you used to catch me sneaking out.”
Jeff’s hard look melted to understanding but still held a sliver of suspicion.
Redstone appeared as Jeff scratched his neck while rationalizing. “OK, we know he’s been gone roughly five minutes, but we have no clue which direction he is going.” He waited to see if anyone wanted to add anything, but after a few seconds of silence, he continued. “I would bet money he’s going to his mom’s. She lives just on the other side of one sixty-eight on this side of the bridge. If he goes anywhere, it will be east.”
“This is bull—snot!” Redstone lamented. “I don’t want to go!”
Jackson knew his friend was exhausted but still found this childish outburst humorous, so he looked down to hide his smile. “Don’t worry about it, man. Go see your mama.” He was pretty sure now that his father had already told Denise about Keith, because when he had entered the room, her face was wet with tears. And now she had not asked why he would insist that Redstone go see his mother. She simply looked at Redstone, her almost-adopted son, with understanding.
Redstone’s shoulders relaxed and he slowly walked to the back door. Jeff called his name and tossed him the keys to his father’s truck when he turned; Jackson was surprised that his friend caught the keys in one try and almost congratulated him.
Old Ben wasn’t going back on his earlier statement. The situation had changed, and he was merely adapting. “I guess we’re going to have to go back out. Jackson, walk through the fields to see if you can find your cousin. Your mother—if she chooses to be involved— will pick you up in your truck at the southeast corner of the fence.”
He paused as Denise nodded. “Of course.”
And then he carried on. “Jeff, you and I will take your truck and start looking for Hollis on the way to the bridge.”
They had all been assigned and began moving.
Jackson had just passed the bar and wondered why Old Ben had not told him to ride his horse. But before he gave that much thought, he realized something: the Old Jedi had actually said his name! Holy shit! Redstone had already gone out the door, so he had not heard it. He would go over to Redstone’s the moment they returned and tell him.
This proved the old man was not senile. Jackson could almost hear Redstone: “He knows your name because you must be the one who will bring balance to the Force.” He chuckled as he jogged and called out his cousin’s name, telling him everything was OK. He passed the hunting shack and some hay bales and saw no sign of the kid. When he reached the fence, his mother was waiting on the side of the road in his truck, as instructed. He had planned to call his father on the radio and let him know of his unsuccessful run through the woods, but his mother was a step ahead of him and had just finished the call when he climbed onto the bench seat and shut the door.
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I’m not going anywhere near town hall, but after I cross 75 and come to the creek, I’ll follow it home. Hollis wished he had had time to leave a more detailed message or something, so his aunt would know where he was going. He was pretty sure he would be safe at home, because the National Guard had not found him at the Pikes’. He knew they would have been snooping around his house frequently, and there would be no reason for them to suspect he would simply appear at home.
After walking for what seemed like hours and crossing 75, he finally made it to the creek and started following its length south to Polecat Road. He regretted not having a watch. He had stopped wearing one when he had gotten a cell phone, and now the powerless piece of plastic in his pocket was totally worthless. The young man paused in midstride and weighed whether what he was doing was his best option. He wondered if he should just go back. Hollis thought maybe I’m thinking the worst. Maybe they had not found the bunker, they would not have discovered all of his uncle’s guns, which would have made them suspicious and ask more questions and possibly be there if he returned. Jeff and Aunt Denise would still be alive, and Jeff would just be pissed.
If they had found the bunker, the Pikes could possibly be dead, and the soldiers would be waiting for him. He tried to decide whether it would be better to go back and face the fury of his uncle, which could also mean facing the fury of the federal government, or to follow his current path and go to see his mother at least one last time.
As the bridge came into view through the trees, it was getting dark, and then he came to the backyard of the house immediately before the bridge—Mr. Dole’s. He decided to cross the water and avoid the incessant barking of the owner’s monster dog.
He hoped no one would be looking for him. He could see very little in the dim light of the woods as he took a step back to jump and, hopefully, cross the creek. He slipped on the wet leaves, and his foot splashed in the water as he landed on his back. A flashlight beam shone on him like a spotlight, and he could do nothing but lie there.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”
Hollis turned to see what he was praying he would not: a guy with an assault rifle raised to his shoulder and wearing camouflage. Hollis wanted to just run back into the woods, but he knew the soldier would fill his back with holes.
“Get the fuck up here before I shoot your ass!”
He could not clearly see the speaker with the light in his eyes, but he sounded like one of the guys from Jersey Shore. Hollis walked slowly to the man. He was hoping there would be something to draw the soldier’s attention long enough for him to disappear into the woods, except there was nothing but complete silence until he was closer. He would bet this guy had been on Jersey Shore because he had ridiculously dark skin and obviously capped white teeth.
Hollis put his hands up in a surrender gesture as he walked to within a few steps of the soldier. “I’m just headed home.” He was so scared and had such a shaky voice that the soldier probably thought he was lying.
“Why didn’t you just use the road?”
Hollis really had no idea how to respond and just cleared his throat and mumbled. The soldier shifted his stance, not trusting or even remembering this kid.
This little rat is lying; I’ve never seen him before. Private Nichols was trying to think of what he should do and decided to see if this nervous kid would piss his pants. “What’s your name, anyway?”
All color drained out of Blondie’s face, and Nichols wasn’t sure whether he would answer him or pass out.
“Joseph Wilson.”
The kid ain’t fooling me. He might as well have told me he made that up. Nichols turned to the civilian and ordered him to come over and watch this kid. As he made his way to the radio to call Sherman, Nichols thought to himself. “All the other guys at least had other agent-soldiers stationed with them. Why am I stuck with one of these dumbass rednecks”.
“Yes sir,” the soldier said into the handset. “He said it’s Wilson.”
Hollis could clearly hear one side of the conversation but only muffled grunts from the other. The soldier turned to inspect Hollis, obviously having been commanded to by the bursts of static on the radio. “I didn’t ask, but I’m pretty sure he’s a teenager—fifteen or sixteen, skinny, and about five feet ten.” The boy was about to protest that the soldier would have misjudged his age so grossly when a short burst that seemed frantic came across the radio, and the soldier responded, “Blond.”
This is fucking weird. Why does Sherman care about this kid? Nichols could remember something in their briefing about some punk kid who was their primary; maybe Sherman was thinking the same thing. If he had caught who he was hoping he’d caught, Nichols knew he would be promoted. He was sick of working under dicks like Sherman. He gestured for the civilian guard to bring the kid over to the Humvee, where he would be secured for a short road trip.
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There is no fucking way. I’m probably just getting my hopes up. Why would he have been crossing the creek? It’s has to be him. I’ll know as soon as I see him. If there’s a God, then we will get out of here. Sherman stood from his desk and turned to face out the window when he heard a vehicle approaching from the east. Nichols parked, stepped out, and walked around the vehicle to get the prisoner, and Sherman’s knees almost buckled when he saw the kid’s face—finally. Sherman could not wait to get out of this dump, and here was his ticket. He turned back to the desk and sat down as the soldier and prisoner climbed the front steps. Be cool; don’t let Nichols know what he has. That little fucker will think he’s done a good job.
“Mr. Joe Wilson,” said the new National Guardsman, whom Hollis had not seen before, who was sitting at the desk and pushing his laptop aside. “What were you doing out without a movement pass?”
Hollis had known this question was coming and had been working on an answer since he had been put into the Humvee.
“We are going to see the sergeant first class,” the soldier who had said his name was Nichols had told him.
He was elated that this guy apparently did not know who he was. Maybe they had not been sent to track him down and really were just there to help. “I live in Cryar. I was just coming home from a friend’s house.”
The sergeant first class shook his head slowly. “You should have crossed the bridge in the first place and been documented.”
Hollis was going to shrug, say sorry, and hope they would send him on his way; his crime seemed as if it would not be worth their time.
Sherman stood and stepped around the desk while looking at Hollis. “Private Nichols, you may return to your station alone. I think Joe here needs to stay here overnight and think about what he has done.”
The soldier snapped off a salute and asked, “Sir, should I escort him to one of the holding cells?”
The sergeant first class (whose name tag read “Sherman”) crossed his arms and shook his head in the negative. “That’s OK, Nichols. I’ll handle it.”
The soldier who had been escorting Hollis snapped off another salute and hustled out the door, leaving Hollis cuffed and standing before Sherman. They were probably just trying to scare him; they wouldn’t lock somebody up for walking around.
“OK, Joe.” The sergeant first class seemed to put emphasis on his assumed name every time he spoke. “Let’s go put you in detainment.”
Hollis turned and waited for Sherman to begin leading him; he knew this was just a scare tactic and was not going to cry or whatever they wanted him to do.
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The two trucks met at the water board, which was a mile down a twisty road with a large number of trees between it and town hall. So Jeff and Old Ben had decided that would be far enough away for the trucks to meet without the National Guard headquarters being aware. Jackson slid out of the passenger’s seat as Jeff closed his driver’s door. The Pike men would walk to a position where they could scope out anything that was going on at town hall. Each search team had detailed the general area they had searched, and neither had found what they were looking for. Jeff had told Denise and Mr. Kennard to wait there while they spied on town hall. They would simply return if nothing noteworthy happened at the center of Dodge.
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I’ve heard of stuff like this happening—police officers or parents trying to scare unruly teenagers by almost locking them in jail cells or something like that. Hollis was planning on stepping into the holding unit; the sergeant first class would get the door almost shut, and Hollis would pretend to be upset and swear to change. Then Sherman would let him go home.
They went out of the building and into a tractor-trailer or something full of computers, with two empty jail cells on the far wall. Both of the cell doors were open; Sherman guided him to stand in front of one and spoke slowly and calmly. “I was beginning to think we would never find you, but I’m glad you made it.”
This confused Hollis, and Sherman continued to gently push him into the jail cell. Hollis was about to say something as Sherman closed the barred door.
“We’ve been looking for you for a long time. We were afraid something happened to you and were actually about to start searching elsewhere.”
Sherman decided to act innocent and pretend they were not trying to terminate the young man. He had no idea what was on the phone, only trying to save him and get him back to Washington. He could hear in Hollis’s voice, though the boy was unsure, that he sincerely wanted to believe Sherman. He didn’t want to be hunted by the government.
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They were lying on the ground behind a tombstone in the Dodge First Baptist graveyard, about three hundred yards from town hall, each peering through a set of binoculars. “Fuck,” they both whispered in unison.
Jackson almost swore again. It was rare and unnerving to hear his father use a profanity that harsh. Jeff wanted to ask his son “Am I seeing things,” one of the National Guardsmen was leading his nephew to the front door of town hall.
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Nichols had already searched Hollis and found nothing.
“Where have you been? We have been looking for you for a week.” Sherman hissed.
Sherman visibly cooled, and Hollis was so shaken he could not help but answer, “It’s been weeks.” He added, “And you were too stupid to find me, ASS.”
Sherman was taken aback. For one thing the boy would have had to be hiding in a secret nuclear fallout bunker. It also seemed as if calling him an ass was meant as some personal offense.
Before Sherman could respond, Hollis answered the man’s raised eyebrows. “Yeah, Redstone told me about your nickname, Abraham Samuel Sherman.”
The kid thought he was being clever, and maybe he was, because Sherman had never thought of the initials of this alias as spelling out a word. He almost smiled and tried to remain to appear sympathetic and nonthreatening. But he froze as he realized what the kid had just told him. Redstone—wasn’t that what they called that stupid cop?
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Damn. Damn. Damn. Small leafy branches and vines would occasionally slap Jackson across bare skin as he and his father raced through the woods to their waiting family. It was probably not the safest plan to run through a not-very-familiar patch of woods in the waning daylight, but they somehow managed not to get faces full of tree or trip over a fallen log. The younger Pike guessed he was in a lot better physical shape than the man who was almost twice his age and was surprised to see his father exit the woods into the clearing that led to the road just shortly after he had. Maybe Daddy had been working out; the former football player who had been at peak physical condition ten years ago decided he would blame the branches or the thorns or the wet grass or anything to excuse himself for nearly being matched in a footrace by a man with graying hair.
CHAPTER 29
July 25 & 26
SHERMAN CONTINUED TO press while attempting to keep up the façade of already knowing the answers to all of his questions. “So, were you staying with Redstone?” I am fucking playing this little retard. He’s spilling like I am his angry parent.
“Of course not. I’ve never even been to his house. He hung out at my cousin’s all the time.”
Sherman wanted to explode but only gestured for Hay
seed Junior to continue.
I know what this guy is doing. He must be a high-school counselor or something. He already knows all this stuff, and if I lie to him, I’ll just be in more trouble. “He and my cousin are best friends.”
The sergeant first class was completely unprepared for the answer to his next question. “And who is your cousin?”
The boy looked at him as if this was a dumb question, because Sherman had to have known. “Jackson.”
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Jeff and Jackson explained what they had seen, and the group thought it would be best to get some shut-eye before confronting Sherman. Hopefully Redstone would feel like joining them by tomorrow.
When they stopped in the driveway, Denise left her son’s truck running, expecting him to slide over on the bench seat to drive on home. But as she climbed out, he leaned over, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and exited the truck to follow his parents into their air-conditioned house. He didn’t ask, but his mother saw no need in bringing it up and smiled as he fell over on the couch. He had not slept at his parents’ in a long time, and the fact that her son had not asked if he could stay over made her feel the family was as close as it had always been.
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Sherman almost fell down. This is a fucking joke. Jackson Pike? His dad has been a thorn in my side since I arrived here; it just figures that family has been harboring this little bastard.
“So that’s where your phone is?”
Why does this guy start every question with so or and? It was in my pocket when I went for a walk, and that Nichols guy searched me, and I know Sherman doesn’t already have it, so I have absolutely no idea. It could be in the creek for all I know. Hollis answered honestly, “No. I really have no idea where it is.”
This little cocksucker is fucking lying to me. I’ll find your damn phone at your cousin’s and kill every single person you know and love. I should call the whole squad here so we can go murder Jeff Pike and his entire fucking family. No, maybe I need to wait. Think about how I’ll handle this. There’s no way he knows I have this kid, and I could use him as a bargaining tool to get that damn phone and then kill the little bastard anyway.