by Scott Blade
On the snow-covered tracks, the cruiser was slow going until they reached the main street where the tires dug through the snow and met concrete. Then the car drove more the way that it was intended and they headed north at a medium speed.
Chapter 22
Reacher said, “What exactly are we doing?”
“We’re checking out the damage from the tornado. Seeing if anyone needs any help. And praying that no one was hurt or worse,” Amita said.
Reacher stayed quiet. He knew that it was her job. He wanted to help, but he also thought about the missing CIA agent and the possible terrorists on her reservation. He also thought about Shepard’s threat. The CIA will do anything from preventing a weaponized Ebola attack. Reacher didn’t have to wonder about what anything meant. He knew it meant something bad, something irreversible. He knew because his mother had been a military cop for 16 years. He knew because he could imagine. He knew because Shepard didn’t strike him as a man with empty threats.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to look around. Later when everyone is in the community center; you can ask if anyone has seen him. I want to help, Reacher. We are helping.”
“Thank you. It’s a matter of national security, which means that we need to find him. If we don’t, it will be bad for you and bad for Red Rain Indian Reservation.”
Amita paused a beat and then she asked, “What do you mean, bad for us?”
Reacher stayed quiet.
“Reacher, tell me. What is going to happen if we don’t find him?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I fear it’ll be bad. The CIA isn’t supposed to be here. They’re here because of suspected terrorist activities. They aren’t just going to go away until they get what they want. I fear at any cost. And I fear that you will be the one to pay the price.”
“What cost do you mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think that they’ll raid the reservation? Take everyone prisoner until they find Jacobs?”
“I worry that it’s far worse than that,” Reacher said.
He paused a beat and then he said, “Later. Okay? Let’s talk about it later. Let me learn more first.”
Amita said, “Okay.”
They drove on. Taking it slow. Taking it easy. The cruiser drove over the road with no problem. They drove on until they came to a clear path of the twister. Tiny fragments and debris littered the path.
Amita cut on the light bar and let blue lights flash across the terrain. Under the darkening sky, the lights bounced off treetops and reflected from the windows of far-off houses and low mobile homes, strung together in a tight, unorganized sequence.
Reacher let his eyes scan through the area, looking for damage from the tornado. Amita peered around doing the same.
She said, “Look there.”
Reacher craned his head and followed her gaze. He saw several mobile homes that were flipped or turned over or completely torn apart right down the trajectory of the twister.
Standing in a small crowd around the building shrapnel were former residents of the destroyed homes.
Amita said, “We’d better go take a look.”
She turned the wheel and the cruiser turned and dipped over the snow. They drove off the road and onto the flat ground toward the people.
They pulled up a few feet from the people and saw Henry Little was among them.
Amita Red Cloud stomped on the parking brake and nearly launched herself out of the door without bothering to close it. She stepped one foot down on the interior of the doorframe and leaned up over the roof. She called out across the top and said, “Is everyone okay?”
Henry Little looked back at her and said, “Everyone is okay.”
Amita climbed out all the way and signaled to Reacher to follow her.
He climbed out of the car and shut his door. Reacher could feel his feet sink down into the snow. The temperature had dropped steadily and hadn’t really affected Reacher too much. Besides, he wasn’t one to complain, but now he felt the cold like tiny nails poking his skin.
Amita looked back over her shoulder and saw Reacher tailing behind and shivering a little as he walked. She stopped walking and stood close to Henry Little.
“So everyone is okay? What are you all doing out here?”
Henry Little said, “We’re trying to help Samantha search for pictures of her husband.”
Then he stopped and turned and gazed at Reacher. He had a long face with pronounced eyebrows. He looked thoroughly at Reacher. First up and then down and then up again. He said, “Her husband died in Afghanistan. She just received the phone call today. A phone call.”
Reacher stayed quiet.
Little got closer to him. Before, Reacher had thought that Little was a giant. But now he retracted that impression because Little wasn’t a giant. He was a leviathan.
“He fought in the army. Now he’s dead. And now she has lost the very small amount of home that your government allows her to have.”
Reacher stayed quiet.
“Okay. That’s enough, Henry. Come on. Reacher has nothing to do with any of that nonsense,” Amita Red Cloud said.
Little ignored her and continued moving toward Reacher.
Reacher could smell alcohol on his breath. Then Reacher thought about a man who knew that there was a major storm approaching. He was locked in his house. What would he do? Drink. That was something that happened where Reacher was from all of the time. At least once a year it seemed that his state had gone through a few days of a hurricane passing through. Power outages, lightning, and strong howling winds—lots of people drank. So Reacher didn’t judge or say anything about it.
Then Little did something that Reacher didn’t like—he started to poke Reacher’s chest.
Reacher said, “I am sorry about your friend. But it’s no more my government than it is yours. And I don’t make decisions about your land. I don’t make decisions about anything. I’m just a guy. An America? Yes. And I am white. I am from a military family. But I have never played any role in anything that affects you.”
Little said, “Military? You look Army.”
“My father was in the Army. My mother was in the Marines. And I was in neither.”
Little poked Reacher again. Amita stepped between them and said, “Henry! That’s enough!”
He pushed past her and poked again.
Reacher said, “Don’t poke me again.”
Little came close, rose his hand up in the air and held it there like a major debate was taking place in his head.
Amita said, “Henry! Stop! You two are carrying on like high school jerks!”
Then Henry backed down and Reacher sighed to himself in relief. He didn’t want to hurt an old Native American in front of Amita. Not only that, but he also didn’t necessarily disagree. He had no thoughts or opinions on the subject.
Amita said, “We’re out here to tell everyone to start heading to the community center. We’ll be safer buckled down there for the night. It’s stocked with supplies and sleeping bags. Please help spread the word.”
Henry nodded and said, “Yeah. Okay. I’ll start telling people. We’ll all be there. Now they have nowhere else to go.”
Reacher felt bad about these people’s homes. But he surveyed the coming darkness and said, “Amita, we’d better get moving.”
They returned to the car and drove about as far as they could before the snow started and within a matter of moments turned to a hard wind and then harder snow.
Amita said, “This is insane. I’ve lived through storms before but I’ve never seen it come on so fast.”
Reacher stared out the window and shrugged. He had never even seen this much snow and it had only been coming down a few moments.
Amita said, “We’d better go back.”
These were words that Reacher didn’t like to hear. He never went back. Going back wasn’t something that fit into his nature. Going forward was his comfort zone. But he nodded. And Amita backed the car up and k-tu
rned and headed back to the community center.
Chapter 23
Violent winds blasted through the snow-covered streets and quieted buildings of Red Rain Indian Reservation. A stop sign hung broken and flapped in the wind like a metal flag. Shingles on a nearby roof shuddered and rattled like they were going to come off. The houses ached and moaned like old wood in the vehemence of the storm. Some trees bent while others stood strong because their bases were secured by three feet of snow. Old telephone poles ricocheted ice and slivers of wooden fragments flew off the sides like a skin peel.
The snow didn’t fall; it shot and darted across the sky, plunging across the landscape.
One temporarily abandoned home had three broken windows because the inhabitants had forgotten to close the shutters. By the time they returned, the place would fill with snow.
This continued for about 75 minutes and then all of a sudden the storm subsided slowly. It wound down to a milder version of itself, but it was far from over. On a radar screen, the storm would have covered half the map of northern Wyoming.
The sudden calm was merely a pocket in the bigger system, a break from the pounding.
Down the main street, in the community center, Cameron Reacher leaned against the back wall of the main chamber. He faced a crowd of locals. Most of them had their backs turned. They faced each other and chatted. The low rumble of voices hummed through the chamber like a church after mass has ended and everyone begins to stir and gather their belongings, saying hello to members of their community.
Most of the town’s people were over the age of 50. There were some small children and a handful of young adults. No one paid any attention to Reacher, which was the way that he generally liked things. By nature, he was a solitary soul.
From across the room, Amita Red Cloud looked over at Reacher and then turned back to her father. They spoke for a few minutes and then she began walking toward Reacher.
She stopped in front of him and looked up, cocking her head back.
She said, “Tell them. My dad is going to get their attention. He wants you to tell them about Jacobs. This is the fastest way to find him. Ask if they’ve seen him. Someone is bound to say so.”
Reacher said, “I’m not good in front of crowds.”
Amita cracked a smile and then she said, “I can’t believe that you’re scared of them.”
Reacher shrugged and then he said, “Not really afraid of anything. I just have no experience in public speaking.”
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“Okay then, so get ready.”
Chief Red Cloud started to wave his hands in the air and the crowd turned and paid attention to him.
He said, “Thank you for your attention. I know that everyone here is in some serious worry about this storm and about your belongings. I’m glad that you heeded our warnings and decided to come to us here. Every year we get blizzards. This is the worst one that I can recall, but we’re still safe here. Together.”
He started to walk toward Reacher.
“Now. At this time I know that many of you are dealing with the loss of your property because of the twister from earlier in the day. There’s nothing that we can do about that right now.
“Right now we have an important matter that must be dealt with. Unfortunately it’s sensitive. I’m asking for your help. Each of you, turn your attention to Mr. Reacher. He will explain.”
The crowd turned like it was one being. There were less than 100 faces, but more than 50. Reacher wasn’t sure because when they all stared at him, he didn’t freeze up. He just blurred their faces together. He had never come across something that he feared before. He knew that this wasn’t it. But nervousness, that was a different story. Being the center of attention wasn’t something that he liked. It made him feel like the outcast because he was so different from everyone else.
Reacher swallowed and said, “There are dangerous men among you.”
No transition. No preparation. He just said that. The crowd froze. Stared at him.
“There’s a missing federal agent. He’s wanted. This doesn’t mean that he’s bad, just that we need to find him.”
Amita Red Cloud stepped forward and said, “Most of you know him. His name is Mike Jacobs. Does anyone know where he is?”
No one stepped up. No one made a sound.
Reacher waited and scanned the sea of faces, but no one had even a glimmer of recognition in his or her face. There were many other residents missing from the congregation. Reacher wondered if Jacobs was with one of those groups. Perhaps people in terrorist cells would remain in their houses, which would make sense. Terrorists generally live among us, unsuspected, but still they are usually people on the fringes. Hard to hide what you’re doing in direct plain sight. Especially in a small, tight community like this one. Reacher had grown up in a small community and he knew what it was like to try and stay hidden from public view. In a small town, everyone tends to know your business.
Reacher looked at Amita and shook his head. No one in the room knew anything about Jacobs. Reacher doubted that any of them would help even if they did know. At this point it was like a needle in a haystack.
Amita approached Reacher and said, “Some of the people aren’t here.”
“I figured.”
“They live far from the center of town.”
“I figured that too. I can’t blame them for wanting to stay with their property.”
Amita said, “Reacher, Mike Jacobs’ family home is one of those houses. His family sold it to an older man named Sean Gareth.”
“Gareth?” Reacher asked.
“He’s a white man. No one minds him because he keeps to himself. Hardly ever see him in town. Henry usually travels out to his house and delivers supplies once a week. They’re friends. They play poker. Everyone knows about it because Henry usually hates white people, as you saw. But he and Gareth are friends.”
Reacher looked at her. He felt the P99 shift in his pocket. Then he said, “That might be a place to start looking.”
Chapter 24
The small boy had been told to run.
And that was what he did. He ran as hard and fast as he could through the snow. He heard loud noises behind him. Some of them he didn’t recognize. Loud engine sounds. But some he did know. He heard gunshots. He knew those. He had seen movies, bad movies, movies that his parents hadn’t wanted him to watch.
He didn’t really understand what was going on. He only wanted to go home. He wanted to see his parents again. He wondered why he hadn’t seen them.
The man had taken him away from the bad men. He understood bad men. He had seen them in movies too.
What he had never seen was real-life violence. Not like tonight.
Tonight he had seen a man on fire.
The boy walked close to him in the freezing snow. He had watched the man combust and then flail around like a chicken with his head cut off. Then the man had stopped and dropped to his knees, and then he dropped flat onto the ground and continued to blaze.
The boy stared at him, not sure what to do.
There was a lot of noise. Gun shots. An explosion. Crackling fire. A dog barking in the distance. Voices yelling.
The man screaming at him to run. Run.
The small boy turned and ran. He didn’t want to because it was cold. Not near the fiery man. Near him it was warm. But he had to run. He had to listen to the man that he had come here with.
Before he ran, he saw a special object on the ground. He wasn’t sure what it was. But it blinked. It was a small box-shaped object. He picked it up. Saw the blinking light. And he slipped it into his coat pocket.
“Run!” the man screamed again.
The small boy ran into the forest and over the thick snow and away from the nightmare sounds.
Chapter 25
Jack Reacher was far away from Red Rain Indian Reservation and far away from Cameron’s mind. At this moment, Cameron wondered where the hell Mike Jacobs was and how
the hell he was going to find him. It looked like they would have to go out into the snowstorm and manually search for him. Door-to-door. They might have to go house-to-house. Maybe not everywhere. The best bet would be to start way out where Jacobs’ family house had been. Maybe he had escaped the terrorist cell and was hiding out. Maybe he was holding up, waiting for the storm to pass so that he could get in touch with Shepard.
Just then two unexpected things happened.
The community center and all of the people inside seemed to freeze as the lights flickered and then the power went out. The room went black.
A hum could be heard surging through the circuitry as the back-up emergency lights kicked on. The room filled with an unnatural feeling as the lights shot on. They were very bright. The white light filled the room like a blast from the sun.
The second thing that happened just then was that the door to the community center burst open.
The power from the reservation was out everywhere and the blackness burst in with the open door.
Reacher saw him first. A small Mexican boy stumbled into the center. He was covered in muddy snow and ice and frost. He shivered even though he wore a thick winter coat that was oversized for him. He came in and fell to the floor right in the doorway. The door slowly lapsed back to close and stopped against his body. Reacher started to scramble toward him as well as some people who were closer to him.
Reacher pushed through the crowd of people, ignoring the mumbling. He grabbed at the boy’s head and pulled him up. The boy was breathing, which relieved Reacher and also Amita. She had pushed through behind Reacher, using him as a forward blocker.
She said, “I don’t know him. Does anyone know him?”
She looked around the crowd of people. They all shrugged one after the other.
She asked, “Who is he? Where did he come from?”
Reacher stayed quiet.
Chapter 26
The small boy woke up lying on a cot in a strange place. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten there. He knew that one moment he was walking and freezing outside. A storm came and swallowed him up. He was scared, but now he felt safe.
Standing over him was a giant, the biggest man that he’d ever seen. Dark, short hair. Thick. Deep ice-blue eyes. He had a ridged brow and a hard face. He looked like one of those scary monster men from the movies on the channel that his mom said he wasn’t allowed to watch. Grownup movies she called them. Only in Spanish. He knew a little English from watching these movies. He knew bad words too.
