Savage Rising

by C. Hoyt Caldwell

  He tried to speak, but quickly held back when he realized he wasn’t just disappointed, he was sad. He didn’t get sad. Sad was a waste of energy. The feeling was so foreign to him he didn’t know how to proceed. He dug deep and kept his composure. “You find anything on the body?” His gut flipped inside out when he heard himself refer to Mac as “the body.”

  “Nothing,” Dani said, feeling the grief that was slowly strangling the oxygen out of the atmosphere.

  He pointed at a number of bullet holes. “This was done at close range.” He drew Dani’s and Nola’s attention to the purple discoloration that circled the wrists. “She was bound. For a while. Days maybe.” He counted the gunshot wounds. “She took eight bullets, not counting the head shot.” He felt himself waver, but quickly brought himself back. “Placement of the wounds suggests they were trying to get her to talk. Either that or they’re sadistic motherfuckers that just wanted to torture her.” He balled his hands into fists. “Either way, I’m going to end them.” He turned to Dani. “Is that gonna cause a problem between you and me?”

  She considered his question before answering, “No.”

  Chapter 78

  He was going to kill someone. Dani was convinced of it. She’d seen grief more than she cared to remember, and she knew exactly what it could drive a person to do. Mix that with Spivey’s natural disposition, and the deputy was pretty sure someone was going to end up dead. But you can’t detain a man because of what you’re afraid he might do. The only thing she could do was call Step and Kenny and ask them to keep Spivey from doing something stupid. She realized it was like asking a cat not to play with a string, but it was her only option. They assured her they’d find him and keep him out of trouble. It took a good bit of will not to laugh out loud.

  She and Nola huddled around her desk and searched the Internet, looking for information on the Million Moms Against Guns demonstration, and they discovered it was less than a day away. It was a lofty goal that had been in the planning for months. As many as three thousand campuses of universities, colleges, and two-year schools would be targeted. The grassroots organization had put together an impressive online marketing campaign. Their Facebook page alone had over eight million “likes.”

  Perusing the comments section of their status updates was a lesson in brutal misogyny. Organizers were called every derogatory term in the book and a few that weren’t. The manners in which they were told they would suffer death ranged from grotesque to terrifying. The glaring similarities in each of the horrible comments were the laughable misspellings and clear lack of knowledge of even the most basic rules of grammar.

  A link to the group’s website led to contact information for the organization’s headquarters in Chicago. Before Dani could put in a call, Nola stopped her.

  “Shouldn’t we be handing over what we know to the FBI or whoever?”

  Dani had forgotten that only she knew who Spivey and Mac really were. They were independent covert agents hired by a division of the United States government built on a foundation of secrecy while skirting federal law to violate everyone’s right to privacy. Contacting federal authorities was the last thing Dani wanted to do. “We’ve got nothing but a hunch at this point. We’re hickbilly cops in a hickbilly, shit-kicking backwoods town. They’d brush us off like dirt on their boots.”

  “Still. They’d know.”

  “I ain’t so sure that’s a good thing.”

  Dani picked up the phone and called the number on the website. A woman answered sounding frazzled and weary. She simply said, “Moms HQ.”

  Dani hesitated, comparing the number on the computer screen and the phone’s display to see if she had dialed correctly. “Is this the Million Moms Against Guns?”

  “It is.”

  “Oh,” Dani said.

  “The other file, Connie.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Not you…Hold on…The one on the filing cabinet. The blue one…” Back to Dani. “I’m sorry. This is Million Moms. What can I do for you?”

  “My name is Deputy Dani Savage with the Baptist Flats Sheriff’s Department…”

  “Where’s that? You sound Southern.”

  “I am. I’m calling from Tennessee…”

  “Look, if this is about permits, I’m sure we’ve got everything we need. I can direct you to our legal…”

  “No. This ain’t about permits. Listen, we have reason to believe that a college in this area where you’ll be holding a protest is gonna get hit.”

  “Hit?”

  Dani hesitated, searching for the words that wouldn’t make her sound like a crackpot with a crazy conspiracy theory. She decided to lie, kind of. “We’ve been working with a federal agency…I can’t say which one, but there’s a local militia group that is planning to shoot up…or seize…or whatever, a college where your group will be demonstrating.”

  “Okay, which federal agency?”

  “I told you I can’t say.”

  “Well, which college?”

  A long pause. “We don’t know. I’m guessing within a half day’s ride of this area. They’d want to keep it close to minimize the risk of traveling with a shitload of weaponry.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’re a local cop working with a federal agency you can’t tell me about that’s helped you uncover a plot to shoot up a campus where we’ll be demonstrating, but you don’t know which campus?”

  “I told you. It’s more than likely a half-day’s ride from here.”

  The woman chuckled. “Okay, how many campuses does that amount to? Ten? Fifteen?

  “I don’t know. We got some eighty or ninety we’re looking at.”

  “So you called me to tell me everything you don’t know?”

  “I called to tell you to shut down the demonstrations in this area. You’re putting people at risk…”

  “Spare me,” the woman said, cutting Dani off. “I know what’s going on here. You’re one of those right-wing nutjobs trying to shut down protests in your area. You’re just trying to be clever about it…”

  “Listen…”

  “No, you listen. Go fuck yourself, Deputy Dani Savage. We’re coming after your guns, asshole!” With that, the woman ended the call.

  Dani stared at the receiver and then shifted her gaze to Nola. “I think we’re gonna need a plan B.”

  Chapter 79

  The church looked worse in the daylight. The yellow paint flaked like psoriasis on the exterior of the building. The steeple didn’t just lean, it buckled where the framing had cracked and was slowly splintering into a more pronounced curve. The house of God didn’t just look neglected, it looked unloved and disrespected.

  Spivey pulled his Accord to a stop and gripped the steering wheel, trying to find the rational part of himself that kept him from losing control. He’d been trained, by a hard life and shit storm after shit storm, that anger was acceptable but acting on that anger was not. He’d gotten as far as he had because he never took anything personally. Seeing Mac’s dead body removed every bit of reason from his mind. He was operating on pure fury, and Tawny was going to be the one that paid. Not because Spivey thought the preacher was responsible for Mac’s death, but because he’d most assuredly had a hand in it, even if it was just by looking the other way.

  By the time he stepped out of the Accord, the two snake eaters were approaching. The sounds of their boots digging into the graveled surface nearly drowned out the haunting sound of cicadas traveling through the late afternoon haze.

  “The church is OL, sir,” one of the men said. “I suggest you vacate the premises immediately.”

  Spivey ignored the warning and marched toward them.

  “I said the church is OL…Off-limits…I’m going to have to ask you to leave…”

  “I know what OL means, asshole.”

  “Yes, sir. I thought you might, sir. You just don’t appear to be complying…”

  Before the snake eater could get another word out, Spivey knocked him off of his fe
et with a fist to his temple, ripping the firearm from the former special ops soldier’s belt as he tumbled to the ground.

  The other snake eater didn’t hesitate. His weapon was trained on Spivey in an instant. “Stand down, motherfucker. Drop the weapon.”

  Spivey slowly raised his hands above his head, dropping the gun in the process, but only so he could make his next move. In one fluid motion, he stepped toward the snake eater, making a half turn in the process, while bringing his right arm down quickly. When he had the man’s arm pinned between his own arm and his rib cage, Spivey grabbed the snake eater’s wrist and drove the weight of his body backward until they both were on the ground, a move that broke Spivey’s phone to pieces in his pocket.

  Spivey was on top of the snake eater still locked on to his arm. When the soldier placed his fingers around Spivey’s neck, Spivey snapped his own head up and back, breaking the snake eater’s nose.

  The other snake eater was on his feet and advancing on Spivey with an eight-inch knife in his hand. He had plans to bury every bit of the blade into Spivey’s skull.

  When he was just a few feet away, there was a loud popping sound followed by the snake eater doubling over at the waist, clutching his right side, and then falling flat on his face.

  “Don’t move,” Kenny said, standing at the rear of Step’s truck.

  Step passed him on his way to help Spivey and said, “You might’ve told him that before you shot him.”

  Kenny watched the man he’d shot writhing in pain on the ground and said, “I s’pose that would’ve been a better order of things. For him anyway.”

  Step held his handgun by his side and approached Spivey and the snake eater he had pinned to the ground. Step took long enough to light a cigarette before saying, “Looks like you’re in a tight spot, friend.”

  Spivey drove the back of his head into the snake eater’s nose again, making his own head throb. “You talking to me or him?”

  Step shrugged. “You, I suppose. Although the same could be said of his situation, and I like him about as much as I do you, so I’d find a way to not piss me off if I were you.” Step smiled while biting down on his cigarette and showed Spivey his gun.

  Another backward head butt to the snake eater’s nose. “Yeah, well, these two had guns and you can see how nice I was to them.”

  The snake eater under Spivey roared.

  Annoyed, Step shook his head. “Roll off the man.”

  “What? No.”

  “Roll off him,” Step demanded.

  Spivey hesitated and then did as Step said.

  Blood poured from the snake eater’s disfigured nose. He released an animalistic scream and reached for his knife on his belt. Step fired two quick shots, hitting him both times in the left knee. The man’s scream changed in tone from anger to agony.

  “Now, you’re gonna wanna stop that,” Step said. “I shot you because you were making all that racket. Keep at it and I’ll shoot you some more.”

  The man let out one unrestrained scream and then bit his bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet. It was only minimally effective.

  Spivey stood, rubbing the back of his head. “Why are you here?”

  “Dani called. Said you were on your way to stupid. Asked us to detour you.”

  “How’d she know I’d come here?”

  “She didn’t. We did.”

  “Step,” Kenny said.

  Step turned to his partner, who was stooped down next to the snake eater he’d shot.

  “This one’s spent.”

  “You shot him. That’s bound to happen.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean to kill him. Just wanted to slow him down.”

  “Mission accomplished,” Step said, turning back to Spivey. “Knew you’d come here, but it ain’t gonna do you no good. Tawny’s a lot of things, but a rat ain’t one of them. He lies like he breathes. Not an ounce of thought goes into it.”

  Spivey marched toward the church. “Well, he’ll either stop lying or stop breathing by the time I’m done with him. His choice.”

  Kenny started to follow him, but Step stopped him. “But Dani said to keep him out of trouble.”

  “Since we showed up there’s a dead fella and a crippled fella. I’d say Dani called the wrong crackers to steer somebody away from trouble.”

  Spivey entered the church and hid himself behind the column immediately to his left. The gunshots and commotion outside had surely put everyone inside the church on red alert. After a few minutes, he dashed to the outer aisle and made his way to the altar. The only thing he heard was the sound of his own breathing. By the time he made it to the front row of pews, he knew the church was empty.

  He climbed the altar and headed to the area behind a curtain where he found a small office. There was a dry spot of blood in front of the cluttered desk and remnants of the cheap watch he’d given to Woodrow. He went through the mess of papers and discarded food containers looking for a clue to where he’d find Tawny. He tore through the contents of a file cabinet and dumped everything out of the desk drawers. Nothing he found was of any use.

  Frustrated, he scanned the room and found one area of the small space that wasn’t visible to him, the back of the door. He quickly pushed it shut and found a letter pinned to the thin plywood, a hand-drawn target circling the letterhead.

  The note was from Moms Against Guns. It was an invitation for Tawny, as a member of the clergy, to participate in the Million Moms Against Guns demonstration. They needed bodies, not just mothers, and not just women. They needed everyone who was tired of the senseless gun violence. Tawny was even invited to speak at their main demonstration site in his state, the University of Tennessee.

  Spivey ran out of the office and headed for the entrance. He had the information he needed. He was a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten to beat it out of Tawny, but at least he could now stop the Gray Rise.

  Chapter 80

  The converted passenger buses had a generic two-tone paint job. The top half was a dark grayish blue while the bottom half was silver. They were designed to look like innocuous charter buses that occupy the highways and byways throughout the country.

  Inside, both buses were divided into two parts. The first part, the largest, was made up of typical cushioned seats. There was room for twenty-four passengers. The second part of the bus was hidden by a door that was labeled LAVATORY. And by all appearances that’s what it was. Neither the toilet nor the sink were functional. A false wall led to a command center filled with weapons, computers, monitors, and battle gear.

  Harley stood in the back of the lead bus as his soldiers boarded. They were dressed in Wayne Drake Community College T-shirts and hoodies. Their backpacks were stuffed with AK-OS 555 assault rifles broken down into three parts that each member of the Gray Rise could reassemble in less than fifteen seconds.

  The militia members on the other bus were dressed as counter protesters. Their T-shirts had slogans like OPEN CARRY HAS BEEN THE LAW SINCE 1788, and SHALL NOT INFRINGE.

  Harley turned to the command center. He was pleased to see his band of geeks tapping away on various computer consoles. None of the tech-savvy soldiers had been subjected to the hell the other men had gone through. They had spent their time creating digital footprints all over the Internet.

  A BitTorrent site had been created to post a manifesto, most of it bullshit. Harley, via the geeks, had become somewhat of a second-tier celebrity among antigovernment websites. He was in his element, growing a following by talking about false-flag events. The proof he’d presented was all manufactured by his brainiac squad. Altered photos, videos with subtle CG effects, official redacted memos that were far from official, it was all just smoke and mirrors.

  He even hinted that his militia was a target of the feds and there was no doubt they were about to create a false-flag event and blame him and his men. “Don’t believe a word you hear,” he said at the end of a breathless rant. “None of it. They hate the truth, and I speak nothing but the truth. Th
ey’re going to try to discredit us, and when they do, that’s when we fight back because they will have fired the first fucking shots! Gray Rise!”

  He was as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning. Everything he had hoped and planned for was about to be a reality.

  “Can’t see why I can’t come along,” Cleve said, standing next to his uncle.

  “Told you, you’re the torch. Our ‘in case.’ If things don’t come off like we planned, someone’s gotta burn this place to the ground. Can’t leave no evidence for the feds to find.”

  “But I want to be in on the fight.”

  “You will be. This is part of it. Besides, I don’t trust no one else with what you’ve got to do.” He gently slapped Cleve’s cheek. “This is a good thing, Nephew. If I’m took out in a firefight, the movement will be yours to carry on. You hear me?”

  Cleve felt unexpectedly moved by his uncle’s faith in him. He nodded. “I hear you. Just don’t get yourself took out.”

  Harley winked. “It’ll never happen. Gray Rise!”

  The men on the bus spontaneously replied, “Gray Rise!”

  Chapter 81

  Otis was back at Laura’s side. The mommas had taken over the vigil in his absence, and they were all exhausted from worry and nonstop prayer. They’d left just minutes before Dani and Nola had arrived, taking Sarah with them. The child was sullen and angry. She’d suffered through tragedy far beyond her years, and she wanted to push back on life until it gave her something good in return. Her way of pushing back was being willful to a fault. The mommas were barely up to the challenge of keeping her under control.