The man in electronics issue, however…
John Willey’s voice filled Electronics Issue as he happily sang along with the pop music coming from the computer’s speakers. He was getting ready to fix one of the military radios that had been dropped off, and it looked to be an easy fix, most likely a loose connector inside, which he could remove and replace before soldering the connections to ensure continuity.
“‘Let's go all the way tonight
No regrets, just love
We can dance until we die
You and I, we'll be young forever-’”
Thoroughly lost in the moment, he picked up the radio and brought it to his mouth, pretending it was a microphone. Closing his eyes, he sang even loudly, trying and failing to find the pitch that would compliment Katy Perry’s singing.
“‘You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream,’”
He brought his hand up and rubbed in down his chest towards his groin.
“‘The way you turn me on, I can't sleep,’”
In the doorway, Lieutenant Colonel Juarez shook his head before he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. As bad as the music - and accompanying singing - was, it would help cover the sound of what he was about to do.
“‘Let’s run away and don’t ever look back,
Don’t ever look back,’”
Reaching into the cargo pocket of his trousers, he withdrew the unauthorized gun and the unauthorized silencer that fit it. Silently screwing the silencer onto the end of the weapon, he flicked off the safety and walked towards where the chubby twenty-four year old man danced around.
“‘My heart stops, when you look at me,
Just one touch, now baby I believe,’”
Judas raised his gun and pointed it at the man’s head.
“Come on, I think it’s this way,” Daniel urged, pulling Serafina to the right as they exited the elevator.
“You think?”
“I’ve only been here once, and it was with Mike,” he explained.
Realizing it wouldn’t take all three of them to contact Serrano’s team, the two of them had chosen to let Major Kincaid handle it while they went down to Electronics Issue, where they hoped to find John Willey and get more information about the cell phones and exactly who he had given the other units to.
Exhaling through his nose as he shook his head, Daniel said, “I gotta warn you, this guy is… a bit eccentric.”
“How so?” Serafina asked, walking briskly alongside him.
Thinking about it, Daniel smiled. “He’s quite a character. A bit goofy...no, actually, very goofy, but you can tell he has a big heart. He’s also really into his work, which makes him very, very good at it. Mike told me there hasn’t been a single piece of salvageable equipment that he couldn’t fix. If it can be repaired, he can do it. If he can’t fix it, it can’t be salvaged.”
“Okay,” she replied, nodding as they rounded a corner in the hallway, passing a trio of soldiers heading in the opposite direction. The three soldiers all appeared to be in their early twenties, and each wore black fabric sleeves with “MP” in white letters on their arms. Neither of the two young men, nor the young woman, acknowledged Daniel and Serafina as they moved past quickly, focused on their assignment.
“What’s going on?” the young woman asked.
“No idea,” the man closest to Serafina and Daniel replied. “But the General doesn’t fuck around. If he locked down the building, it must be something serious.”
The soldiers turned at the corner, heading down the hallway Daniel and Serafina had come from, their voices fading.
“But,” Serafina continued, “being good at fixing electronics doesn’t make someone eccentric.”
Further down the hall, Daniel saw the sign for Electronics Issue on the wall. “Well, I guess you just have to meet him,” he said, realizing it’d be impossible to describe the man’s eccentricities before they reached the room.
As they got closer, they could hear the sound of pop music coming from the room, along with the sound of a man’s voice, loudly singing off-key as he tried to match the female singer’s pitch.
“This is real, so take a chance,
And don’t ever look back, don’t ev- ’”
The voice cut off suddenly. A second later, the sound of something heavy crashing came from inside the room.
Katy Perry continued to sing her pop anthem, without the man’s voice accompanying her.
“What the hell?” Daniel asked aloud.
“Could he have gotten shocked by something he was working on?”
Daniel’s eyes widened. “Maybe…” He rushed to the door and threw it open. The room’s two windows were open, allowing a cool breeze into the space. On the far side of the room, beyond the counter that stood directly in front of the entrance, a computer monitor showed rhythmically moving, multi-colored lights, dancing on the screen in sync with the pop song. The counter itself was bare, and the work area beyond appeared showed no sign of Willey, only a series of desks with pieces of electronic equipment in various stages of repair.
Stepping into the room, he moved towards the counter, Serafina following close behind. Looking beyond it, he lowered his gaze to the floor near the desk that the computer monitor sat on. A heated soldering gun rested atop the desk, a small tendril of smoke rising from its tip.
Willey’s legs extended from behind the desk, his torso hidden from view. Near an outstretched hand, a handheld military radio lay on the floor.
“Shit,” he said, softly.
“Oh my God!” Serafina cried out, moving around the counter. Daniel followed closely behind, reaching out for her.
“Don’t touch him, he could still be in contact with whatever shocked him,” he warned. Even as the words left his mouth, he felt something was wrong.
There was no chance that the radio could have generated enough of a shock to incapacitate the man...
Nearing the desk, the man’s head and upper body came into view, lying face down on the tiled surface of the floor. Serafina gasped. There was a pool of blood growing from underneath the man’s head.
“What is it?” Daniel asked, moving closer to peer over her shoulder. “Oh, fuck,” he said at the sight of the man. Realizing they’d walked into a trap, he spun around -
- and came face to face with a silencer, pointed at this chest.
The man they’d seen in the General’s office only minutes before held the gun in his hand. He glared at the two of them, his eyes filled with hatred.
“Why the fuck did you two have to show up?” Lieutenant Colonel Juarez asked. “You’re ruining everything.”
“I - ” Daniel began, bringing his hands up. Moving to the side, he stepped in front of his wife.
“Stop,” the man said, his voice hard and crisp. “Don’t do that,” he ordered, using the gun to indicate Daniel should move aside. “I need to be able to see both of you.”
Daniel hesitated, then obeyed the man’s orders.
Think, dammit.
He alternated between looking at the gun and the Lieutenant Colonel. It was hard to tell which wavered less: the steady barrel of the gun or the hard look on the man’s face.
“Listen, Colonel, you don’t have to do this,” Daniel began.
“Shut up!” the man growled. Using the gun again, he motioned towards the wall to their left. “Up against the wall.” Daniel and Serafina backed away, moving until they felt the wall behind them. Without taking his eyes off of them, the man reached over and ripped the cord for the computer speakers out of the CPU.
“God, that crap sucks,” he remarked, once the happy, upbeat pop music was cut off.
Refocusing his attention on the pair, he barked orders at them. “Down on your knees. Hands where I can see them.”
They did so, moving down and out of sight from those on the other side of the counter. Juarez stole a look towards the door. The pair had left it open, and he’d been lucky no one had come by while he had the gun poin
ted at the two of them. Reaching over, he grabbed one of the wheeled office chairs and quickly sat down in it. Resting the gun on his leg, he was able to keep it pointed at the pair without having it visible to anyone on the other side of the counter.
“Now,” he began, leaning forward. “Tell me what you know about the phone messages, including who has the other phone.”
“We don’t know who has the other phone,” Daniel replied, shaking his head.
Thwack!
A bullet whizzed by Daniel’s head, striking the wall behind him. Instinctively, he flinched as bits of paint and drywall peppered the side of his face.
“The next one goes in your head,” Juarez said, his eyes fixing Daniel with a death stare. He glanced at Serafina, then smiled wickedly as he moved the barrel of the gun to point at her.
“Even better. Tell me what I want to know, or the next one goes in her head.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Oklahoma City Protective Zone, Oklahoma
Day 5
The crowd was loud as they sang enthusiastically, their full-throated rising in unison.
“‘I'll stand
With arms high and heart abandoned
In awe of the One Who gave it all
I'll stand
My soul Lord to You surrendered
All I am is Yours…”
At the front of the crowd, a tall, lean figure raised his hands to the sky as he led them, the microphone clipped to the collar of his shirt amplifying his voice. Clearly moved by the song, the man’s voice wavered slightly as he sang, not bothering to wipe away the tears that streamed down his face.
“‘So what could I say?
And what could I do?
But offer this heart, Oh God
Completely to You…’”
As the song finished, the man stopped and lowered his head. He brought his hand up to cover his face as he openly wept. The others on the platform, all of whom were either tall, muscular men or young, attractive women, gathered around him, embracing him in a massive hug. After a few moments, the man nodded, then brought his hand up.
“Thank you, brothers, thank you, sisters,” he began, looking at them. Returning his attention to the crowd, he took a visibly deep breath, swallowed (also visibly), and said, “My apologies…”
The crowd murmured in protests, several of them calling out to say that an apology wasn’t needed.
“Sometimes my love for the Lord is too much for me to hold in.” He said, nodding slightly. “I think about all that he has done for me - for us, really, and before I know it, I’m blubbering like a fool.”
Leaning over so that he could speak in a low voice and still be heard by the other man, Corporal Snyders said, “This guy acts like hundreds of millions of people haven’t died…”
Gunnery Sergeant Jeffries frowned as he glanced over at him, “Keep it down,” he warned, speaking his voice barely above a whisper. Next to him, a heavy-set middle aged woman with dark hair and patchy complexion leaned forward to glare at the two of them.
“Sorry,” Snyder replied to Jeffries, not noticing the woman’s look.
“Shhh!” the woman hissed, before pointing meaningfully towards the man atop the platform.
Snyder mouthed, “Sorry!” in a somewhat mocking manner.
Jeffries’s left hand took hold of some of the excess flesh at Snyder’s midsection and twisted. Hard.
Snyder grimaced in pain. Then nodded aggressively, indicating he’d gotten the message. They were here for reconnaissance, and when doing recon, remaining unnoticed was key. Hopefully he hadn’t made himself memorable.
The two of them had spent the morning sneaking from building to building, acquiring random pieces of clothing to wear on the many clotheslines that hung in the areas behind the ‘residence halls.’ Though they could have been done at the first stop, Jeffries had insisted that they take no more than one piece of clothing from each clothesline so as to not bring too much attention to the matter.
‘If one item is missing,’ he’d explained, ‘they’ll think it’s misplaced. If several are gone, they’ll know something’s up.’
‘That’s why you’re the Gunny,’ Snyder had replied.
After grabbing enough clothing items to facilitate a change of appearance, they’d found an empty UPS dropoff location, snuck inside, and changed. Jeffries stayed in his tan cargo shorts, but reluctantly ditched his bright yellow USMC Drill Instructor t-shirt for a blue OKC Thunder one, understanding that yellow simply attracted too much attention. While Snyder chose to keep his George Dickel Whiskey t-shirt, he thankfully changed out of the attention-grabbing, too-short Silkies that barely covered his crotch and ass. The shorts alone were enough to draw more attention than they could afford.
Unfortunately, while they’d managed to find socks, they’d been unable to locate a pair of shoes that fit Snyder better than the undersized ones he was wearing (they’d found a single (only a single!) shoe in his size randomly, but had been unable to find its mate), but luckily the material had stretched a bit from the unrelenting pressure his wide feet had kept them under.
Throughout the morning, the two men had struggled to ignore the constant grumble in the pit of their stomach, but considered the necessity for consumption to be a distant second to that of anonymity. Waiting in line at the food distribution tents, which were run by the military, was out of the question.
Neither of them had gotten a look at the men that had carried out the assault (murder) the night before, but they had no doubt that the men had been military, which meant that they could be present at any military-run activity within the Protective Zone, of which there were many.
Their luck had changed upon noticing the hand-written flyers that had tacked up in multiple locations around the housing area:
Cookout Today!
Please join us for a cookout in front of City Hall today at 11:00 a.m.!
Burgers, Baked Beans, Chips, and Soda will be served.
The sight of the list of food that would be provided was enough to make their mouths water. Now, as they stood there, listening to the man on the platform speak, they hoped no one could hear their stomachs rumbling with hunger.
If only the man would finish…
Finally, they heard the man urge the crowd to join him as he spoke:
“Thank you all for joining me today. This day is better for me because you all are in it, and with that said, for those who know our words of love, please join me.”
“Our love is great,” he and his followers said together.
“Our love is kind.
“Our love is free.
“We give of ourselves, for the good of all.”
Throughout the crowd, several voices spoke out, expressing love and admiration for the man. “We love you, Jeremiah!”
Smiling, the preacher waved at the crowd. “Thank you all!” he said, smiling. “Now, let’s eat!”
The crowd cheered happily, and as they moved towards the area where the barbecue grills had been set up, Jeffries and Snyder fell in with them, clapping and cheering in an effort to blend in.
“So there’s a cult leader here, then.” Snyder said, leaning towards Jeffries so he could speak softly.
“Oh definitely,” Jeffries replied, nodding. “No fucking doubt.”
Snyder recoiled in surprise at the man’s use of profanity. “Damn, Gunny.”
“Don’t call me that, dumbass. It’s Anfernie.”
“Sorry, I mean, Anfernie.”
Taking a deep breath, Jeffries continued to clap as he leaned over and spoke to the other man. “I don’t trust this guy.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
East of Sayre, Oklahoma
Day 5
“I’m sorry,” Isabella said, lowering her eyes in shame.
“It’s fine,” Logan replied, nodding slightly. “I can wash my uniform, along with the other dirty ones I have, tonight, when wwe get to the P.Z.”
“I didn’t mean to throw up,” she said, embar
rassed. “I guess it was the cheese sauce on my Chili Mac. It tasted a little too, I don’t know, creamy? And then the heat and stuffiness back here…”
“Look,” Logan replied, holding his arms out so that she could see his old Dodgers t-shirt and blue jeans, “I’m actually more comfortable this way.”
Her dark eyes looked up at him. “Are you sure?”
He nodded vigorously in response. “Definitely. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. We’ll be there soon.”
The group had barely been back on the road for ten minutes, heading east on Interstate 40 on more, when the radio in Serrano’s vehicle came to life.
“Team Whiskey, this is HQ, over.”
Serrano glanced over at the radio in surprise. The agreement had been that communication would be limited to once per day, with him checking in with the HQ back in San Francisco to provide a short, succinct status update each night.
The only exceptions would be in the case of an emergency.
Looking over at Phillip in the passenger seat, he saw a similar look of surprise on the Marine’s face. The man looked at Serrano briefly, then reached out and picked up the microphone.
“HQ, this is Team Whiskey, over.”
“Request you switch to secure channel. Encryption key to follow.”
“Shit!” Phillip exclaimed without keying the mic. Lifting it to his mouth, he said. “Request you stand by, over.”
“Roger. HQ standing by, over.”
Reaching into the glove compartment, Phillip quickly pulled out a small lockbox. After keying in the combination, he withdrew a spiral notebook and pen. Looking at the inside of the rear cover, he verified the encryption keys were printed there. It was purely out of habit that he checked, but seemed necessary nonetheless. Turning to a blank page in the notebook, he clicked the end of the pen, then keyed the mic once more.
“HQ, this is Team Whiskey. Standing by for encryption key, over.”
Surviving Rage | Book 5 Page 36
