Watching his fellow guard go down and curl into a ball, Phil let Morgan go and went on the warpath. Overlooking the myriad of nonlethal defense weapons attached to his belt, he lunged at Sasha with both hands and latched viciously onto her throat. His overpowering mass drove Sasha to the floor beneath him, and there he squeezed, choking her with every bit of forearm strength he owned. “You stupid bitch! You just committed a capital crime!” He leaned closer, going damned near nose to nose with her. “That’s punishable by death. And ole McCracken’s going to be your executioner. How do you like that?”
Sasha thrashed about beneath him while fighting to breathe. His grip was like a vise and far too strong for her to overcome. She could feel light-headedness setting in, and was nearing the point of unconsciousness, but she fought against it with what little strength she had left while something occurred to her. In his haste to take her down, Phil the guard had miscalculated and left one of Sasha’s hands free, and that hand was now feeling about Phil’s belt for a weapon.
While Sasha choked and teared up under his grasp, Phil sent a warning to his audience. “The two of you stay back! This bitch had it coming. If either of you interfere, I swear on my grandma’s grave I’ll beat you bloody while the other watches.”
Both girls nodded compliance while whimpering and shedding tears at the sight of their collaborator being murdered in front of them. Just when they thought it was over for Sasha, they heard a snap, followed by a buzz and a round of continuous, slightly audible, minute clicking sounds. Phil released Sasha’s neck as he jolted straight and arched backward into a curve, his body tensing, teeth chattering and muscles pulsating.
While Sasha wheezed and fought for oxygen, she put a hand behind her and shoved Phil’s shaking body with her shoulder, forcing him away while she pushed the Taser probes deep into his belly. “Ugh! Get off me!” She wiggled away, holding the Taser on him until he fell backward, incapacitated. Carly and Morgan moved in to assist her in standing. “Thank you, girls. Now, get back.”
But they only stood there, confused, like a movie scene on pause.
“Dammit, I said get back!” Sasha growled, and the girls took heed this time. “Who’s the executioner now, asshole?” She kicked him deliberately, sending the toe of her boot into Phil’s temple, intent upon ending it there, but it was too late, she couldn’t stop. Every binding of her restraint had been severed. Her teeth showing now, Sasha kicked him again and again, over and over, and kept kicking him until she plunged to the floor, unable to move her leg. There, she panted for a while, and as if awakening from hypnosis, she glanced around at the room, at the eyes beholding her, and finally back at the guard with the side of his head caved in. “Oh shit!” she gasped, palm covering her lips. “Jesus wept! What the hell did I do?”
Carly knelt beside her and reached for Sasha’s hand. “I think…you might’ve killed him.”
“Shit. I wasn’t trying to.”
Morgan, who had somehow regained her composure, took a knee beside the other guard and placed two fingers to his neck. “Um, guys? I think this one’s dead too.”
Sasha’s brows drew together. “You’re shitting me.”
Morgan shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think so. He’s not breathing, and he doesn’t have a pulse, so either you killed him with that kick, or gave him a heart attack.”
Sasha let out a long, lurid ‘ugh’. “This isn’t my day. I didn’t even kick him that hard.”
Carly’s preoccupation leveled up. “This isn’t good.”
“I know, Carly. I know.”
“Well, what are we going to do about it? We can’t just leave two dead guards lying in our room.”
“I know that too.” Sasha hung her head. “Okay, okay, let’s focus. Do we know how many entered the dormitory? Was it just these two, or were there more?”
Carly shrugged. “I don’t know; I only heard voices. I can go check, though.”
“That’s a brilliant idea, Carly. You go check,” Sasha said. “Hurry back soon and tell us how fucked we are.”
“Um, okay.” Carly rose and made her way to the hall, disappearing seconds after.
Morgan moved closer to Sasha. “What should I do?”
“Nothing, doll, nothing. Unless you have a cigarette lying around. I could use one right about now.”
“Sorry, I don’t have any of those.”
“Yeah, I figured as much.” Sasha patted the floor. “In that case, cop a squat. Shit’s about to get interesting.”
“Yeah.” She slid to the floor and took a seat beside Sasha, leaning her head on the woman’s shoulder. “Thank you…for what you did. I was so scared. I know I didn’t do anything…I didn’t want to be taken away.”
“I know, honey. I know all about it, but it’s over now. McCracken will never slap those grimy paws of his on you ever again.”
Morgan nodded and embraced her defender. “What’s going to happen to us now?”
“To us? Nothing, and I’ll make sure of that. You and Carly are completely innocent. Bystanders the whole time. This started with me, and it’s going to end with me.”
“But that isn’t true. That’s not what happened.”
“Truth doesn’t matter to them,” Sasha proclaimed. “Everything is perverse and twisted to them, even honesty. So when they come asking questions, you keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. You let me handle this. I’ll take the fall.” A pause. “You, Carly and the others…you’re too young for this kind of shit. It isn’t fair for it to keep happening to you. There’s only one thing you guys deserve, and that’s to be back home and have everything that was taken from you returned.” She gave Morgan a squeeze. “You probably don’t know this, but I was taken from my parents, too, much in the same way as you and the other girls. I became a slave to the MC at the ripe age of thirteen, wound up marrying one of the fuckers, and barely made it out alive. You guys made it out, too. And with any luck, one day, you’ll all be free of this place, but that might not happen if you open your mouth. You understand that, don’t you, Morgan? Am I being clear enough? You want to leave one day, right? Get your freedom back someday, or at least have that chance?”
A moment passed before Morgan nodded her head beneath Sasha’s arm.
“That’s my girl. You’ll be fine. You’re stronger than you let on. You remind me a lot of myself before I broke bad. You haven’t yet, and that’s good. You still have a chance. All you have to do is play this right. Just put all the weight and blame on Sasha’s shoulders. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
Chapter 21
DHS remote bivouac, designation Sierra
George Washington National Forest
Tuesday, March 8th
August leaned forward in his camp chair as the threads in each seam stretched to their limits, the fabric struggling to support his heft. Before him, a stainless kettle of water perched directly atop red-hot coals gurgled its way to a boil, and in his lap lay a crinkled printout smeared now in speckles of ash. He’d received an urgent communiqué from HQ just over an hour ago that printed automatically on the portable monochrome printer installed in his SUV. He couldn’t remember the last time it had printed anything, or if it ever had. It confounded him, but not nearly so much as the subject matter contained within.
Their mission’s initial objective had been achieved, that success had been dutifully relayed to HQ, and the response had been to stay put and await further instructions. Since then, while August’s task force remained bivouacked for over two days behind enemy lines in backwoods jerkwater USA, it had been nothing but the silent treatment.
Supplies were becoming scarce, and his men were running dangerously low on patience. Morale was dwindling, even his own. August had hoped this message from HQ would shed some light on the darkness: order his teams to rendezvous with a support brigade for resupply, or back to the plantation for some sorely needed R & R. Instead, it had only added to the uncertainty and made August even more hot under the collar. They were now u
rgently being ordered to stay put, remain encamped until further notice, and not to proceed anywhere, not into the theater of operations and not back home, without being provided one single reason as to why.
When he heard the water reach a rolling boil, August used a wet rag to remove the kettle from the fire, and poured the piping hot water into a bowl over a brick of ramen noodles broken in half. He let them soak for a minute before tearing open the flavor packet, dumping it in, and mixing it around with his fork.
August used to really enjoy ramen. At times, it ranked top tier amongst his favorite foods. He’d lived off the stuff while in high school and throughout college and just about any other time when it made monetary sense. At anywhere from ten to twenty cents per packet, depending on the brand, even the destitute could afford them, but after eating them day in and day out for weeks on end, like so many other things in his life, he was beginning to lose interest. August had been looking forward to returning home so he could add some variety back into his meal plan, and now it appeared that wasn’t going to happen, for whatever fucking reason.
“August?” a voice called from behind him. “Oh, sorry to bother you, man. I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner; I know how much you look forward to your noodles.”
August rotated to see Agent Gil Norris on the approach. “Yet you’ve done so anyway. Must be pretty damn pressing.”
“Might be. I’ll let you decide that. Coefficient Team just reported in…they had themselves a bit of a discovery today.”
August entangled some ramen in his fork and blew on them before taking a bite, opting to answer with his mouth full. “A discovery so crucial that it can’t wait until after dinner?”
“Jesus, man. What gives? I’ve let you be since Sunday, figured your mood might’ve changed for the better by now. Guess it hasn’t.”
“Accurate deduction,” August said, “but being fair, it isn’t you this time. I’m over what happened the other day. I’m just…very displeased in general.”
“What’s got you heated this time? Or should I say who?”
Staring down at his bowl, August sighed. “Say whatever you came to say, Gil.”
“Okay. Charlie Team was evidently bored to death today, so they took themselves on a hike and did some sightseeing. Along the way, they had an encounter and, well, we, uh…got ourselves another prisoner.”
“Do we?” August snorted. “And how old is she this time?”
“Actually, it’s a he. And he’s probably ten or so years older than the oldest one we got.”
August set his bowl down. “Maybe you should explain this to me…in full detail.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad over this, okay?” Gil prodded. “We didn’t go looking for him; this guy came to us. And the fucker was armed, strolled right up to our guys with a Glock on his hip and a shouldered carbine. Said he was looking for those missing girls, and he knew we had them. Then he threatened to shoot both agents.”
“Both?” August prompted. “Coefficient’s roster contains the names of four field agents.”
“Correct. But our accoster didn’t know that. The other two flanked him and took his guns away and detained him. They…had some words with him, and there was a struggle. And they—”
“They beat the shit out of him.”
Gil shrugged. “Well, yeah.”
“Four on one?”
“More or less.”
“Goddammit, Gil! A mid-twenties male isn’t even a blip on our radar! How could we allow something like this to happen?”
“Hey, didn’t you hear what I said? He came to us, not the other way around. What were they supposed to do? Give themselves up? Lay down their guns? Stand there with their hands in the air and charitably await the recitation of their Miranda rights?”
August sighed and kicked his bowl of ramen into the fire. “How bad is he?”
“He’s…not that bad,” Gil said. “They’re saying his eye is cut, his face is bruised pretty bad, and his jaw might be a little messed up. Wouldn’t have been nearly as bad if he hadn’t put up such a fight. Evidently the fucker went all feral on them.”
“Where is he now?”
“On his way here, about five minutes out. I thought it best to stick him in the trailer with the others until we figure out what to do with him, unless you object.”
“Like it would make any difference.” August gestured for Gil to lead the way, and followed him to the forestry road, where a set of headlights could now be seen breaking through the trees. He handed Gil the printout he’d brought along. “While we wait, take a gander at this. Tell me what you make of it.”
Gil looked left to August’s hand. He took hold of the paper and extracted his flashlight to view it. “What the hell is it?”
“An urgent communiqué from HQ, the kind that prints automatically when it’s received. Came in about an hour ago…it regards an…extension to our plans.”
“An extension, huh?” Gil read the text, looking aghast. “What the hell? This doesn’t make a damn bit of sense…we’re running out of everything but ammo, and now we’re stuck here? Camping out like bushmen? Until when?”
“Doesn’t specify.”
“Dammit! My back has been killing me. I was really looking forward to sleeping on my mattress.”
“You and me both,” August said, almost sniggering. “Like you said, Gil, we follow orders. And these are our orders. Looks like we’re bushmen.”
“Dammit…you know, I used to enjoy camping, but this sort of camping bites the big one,” Gil griped. “It’s too much work worrying about who might be watching us from the hills. You think this might be your wife’s doing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve been trying to imagine what possible reason she could have for wanting to keep us out here as we are. I haven’t come up with any.”
“That’s odd, because I just did,” Gil said. “Maybe she’s conniving something. And she doesn’t want anyone around close to her who can catch her in the act. A no-witnesses kind of thing.”
August whipped his head in Gil’s direction and cut his eyes at him. “What are you saying? Do you know something I don’t?”
“What? No, not at all. I was just racking my brain.”
As the SUV approached, it slowed and pulled off the road at the campsite’s entrance. An agent got out of the rear passenger door and moved away just before a hooded man fell out and landed hard on the ground, having clearly been kicked or pushed by someone. The agent outside grabbed the man’s wrist restraints and hoisted him upward, failing to apologize. “Get up, you slippery piece of shit. Don’t you even think about fighting me.”
The two agents latched on to the prisoner and carried him to August and Gil with his feet dragging through the dirt and gravel.
August regarded both agents in joyless fashion. “How about removing his hood so we can get a look at what you idiots did to him?”
The agents looked at each other, stupefied, as if exchanging guilt, neither wishing to accept responsibility for what had been done.
Finally, Gil reached forward and pulled off the hood, exposing the prisoner’s battered face.
“Jesus.” August’s expression contorted with scorn. He ripped the hood from Gil’s hand and tossed it down, then pointed at the two men holding the prisoner. “This wasn’t parcel to the program. It wouldn’t have been a factor if you assclowns hadn’t left the reservation today. I want this man cleaned up, thoroughly and gently, as if you were giving your own infant son his first bath. If I see any further damage, any new marks on his face—a blister, a scratch, a papercut, anything anywhere—what he looks like now will pale in comparison to the permanent disfigurement I’ll dump on each of you.” August then stormed away toward the fire and back to his camp chair.
After having some words of his own with the agents, Gil Norris took his time making his way over, but eventually rejoined August. “You’re not planning to permanently disfigure me, are you? Before I pull my chair over, it’d be nice
to know what I’m getting myself into.”
“No, Gil. I’m not going to hit you. Take a seat.”
Gil slid his camp chair close and plopped into it. “The shit you say sometimes, man…you can be a scary mother when you want to be, and that’s a fact.” He held his palms to the fire. “Have you ever lost control of yourself before or lashed out at anyone?”
August blinked a few times. “Not that I recall.”
“Bet you’d ruin just about anyone if you did.”
August didn’t say anything.
“That prisoner looked awfully familiar. I feel like I know him…or I’ve seen him somewhere before. Can’t recall where, though. You?”
“Hell if I know,” August said snidely. “Maybe I could better tell if his face wasn’t so fucked up.”
“Tucker and Simpson are on it. I think you put the fear of God into them. When I left them, they were dragging out their hygiene kits, looking for mild soap and wipes that don’t chafe.” Gil hooted at himself. “Ah, shit, August. The times in which we live. So, tell me. What are you planning to do about this…urgent extension we got stuck with?”
August pursed his lips. “I don’t know…nothing, I suppose. There isn’t much we can do besides ride it out.”
“Yeah, okay. Ride it out, sure. Just one biiig blaring question, bud. For how long are we prepared to do that?”
Chapter 22
FEMA Resettlement Camp Bravo
Thursday, March 10th
Beatrice made entrance into the ground control station, closed the door behind her, and secured it using a code she tapped into the keypad with the tips of her nails. She strolled ahead to where the two RPA operators were seated before the ground-based hardware systems and the human-machine interface for the Predator UAV. Large LED screens with digitized heads-up displays provided both a forward-looking and an air-to-ground view from altitude. Beneath them, an assortment of lighted buttons and knobs blinked along with their duties. Each operator wore a headset and had an ergonomic joystick mounted between his legs.
The Heart of War: Book Seven of the What's Left of My World Series Page 17
