“Kid, are you nuts? They got eight guys we know of onsite as armed security. That’s the only way they’ve managed to keep the gangs out. Plus lord knows how many others who may, or may not, be in on what you suspect. How are you going to deal with them?” Sergeant Erlich finally demanded, getting agitated by the nature of my plan.
“Nuts? I’ve heard folks say that about me a time or two. They are wrong, by the way. I’m still sane. Mostly. What you need to realize, Sergeant, is the gang is already inside. Running things.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Once I convinced Sergeant Erlich to provide some support to this little mission, I walked away from the school and down a side street until I spotted Mark’s beater truck in the distance. We’d picked the ugliest vehicle the mechanics at the farm assured us would make the twenty plus mile trip, and headed out before first light.
With a wave, I gestured Mark on in to pick me up. I heard the diesel engine roar to life wished we had a way to get around without all that noise. Maybe find a Prius? But they’d all burned up in the pulse. Plus, well, it is a Prius. When I glanced back I saw the sergeant tailing me so waited for the older man to reach my position.
“You say this guy is prior service? Army?”
“Yes, sergeant. Armor. Driver and loader I think. He’s steady in a gun fight. I know that.”
The sergeant looked over at me with a disbelieving look before speaking.
“And how many gunfights have you been in, young man?”
“No more than absolutely necessary, Sergeant. But, Mark there was with me both times we faced the raiders that bought those girls. He stood his ground and did his job. That’s all I’m admitting to, Sergeant Erlich.”
“Damn, son, I was just messing with you. What, you’re like eighteen, nineteen years old and talking like a salty old dog.”
“And when they shipped out for deployment overseas for the first time, how old were your PFCs and corporals, sergeant?”
Mark’s arrival cut off our conversation and when he arrived I gave him a “hi” sign that meant we were good so far. If I’d failed to give that gesture, he would have made an immediate U-Turn and hauled ass out of there. My job was to jump in back if I could make it, but fortunately that move was unnecessary. For now, anyway.
As Mark slowly opened the driver’s side door, the sergeant looked over at me and calmly asked, “You guys armed?”
“No, nothing on us. There’s a scoped rifle in the back under a tarp and a shotgun under the seat but no firearms on our person, sergeant. I would understand if you have to collect them, but we would like them back when this is over.”
Mark nodded, and stuck out his hand.
“Mark Keller, confirmed civilian, and you can’t call me back.”
Sergeant Erlich laughed at Mark’s earnest introduction.
“You already been there, done that, I take it?”
“You got it sergeant. Ended up doing two years on top of my four. Funny thing is I might have gone NG if not for that bit of…foolishness. Now I’m a farmer and that’s it.”
Erlich nodded, like he’d heard that a lot. Maybe he had.
“So, Mr. Luke here was just singing your praises. Said you are a steady troop in battle. So, a little more than a farmer?”
“No, that’s it. Thing is, folks keep wanting to take what we have, so I’ve had to fight to defend our home.”
“Be very careful about who you shoot, Mr. Keller. This is not the Wild West. You will have to account for your actions once this is over.” Sergeant Erlich said, and even I could he was just parroting the “party line”.
“Well, so far we’ve been able to rescue enough hostages to set you straight on the details. Including the mess we’ve got going on here, right under your nose.”
Mark had been a cool customer right up until this point, and I laid a hand on his arm as a warning. Play nice to the men with automatic weapons.
“Sorry, Sergeant. Three of the hostages we recovered were our neighbors. A mother and two little girls. All had been raped and beaten nearly to death before we recovered them.”
Sergeant Erlich waved away the apology, apparently deciding to get down to business.
“Luke has volunteered to accompany a team of my men in to recover one of the girls from that group of cheerleaders. You knew of this, correct?”
“Yes, it has been discussed.” Mark sighed. “None of us like the idea of putting him in harm’s way again, but he does make some good points. He can look mostly harmless, and the girls are more likely to react favorably to him than to one of us old guys.”
“Alright. Luke, I am sending Corporal Conners and Private Barden in with you. Just hang out by the water truck and they will come for you when we finish the water run. Find this girl, convince her to play along as your brother and walk her out the door. Then we will take her to the Captain and debrief her. Are your people willing to produce the other three girls for similar interviews?”
“Yes, sergeant,” Mark replied. “As my father wrote in the letter you received, we think there is a tie between these scumbags running the refugee center and the raiders we bumped into.”
“Well, I have to say the guy running this place is dealing with an impossible situation. He’s got over five hundred displaced people to shelter and feed. We provide the water but that’s about all we can do.”
“And you are sure this is the right guy? I mean, anybody could just walk up and say they are John Smith, right?”
Erlich grinned. “Yes, we even checked his driver’s license. But we will find out what is going on in there. “
Then the man looked over at me, and his face was more serious. “Conners was right. We suspected something was up, but we never imagined he was doing something like this. Not selling kids to monsters.” He spoke in such a way it took me a moment to realize he was looking to me for forgiveness. To let him off the hook for letting this happen on his watch.
I shrugged. Both men looked at me as I stared back. “They were doing it before the lights went out. This is just more blatant. Let me go get this girl and then we’ll see.”
What I didn’t say out loud was that anybody inside that school who sold or raped any girls was going to receive the death penalty. Despite whatever Erlich said, I knew the NG troops could go in there and pull this girl out and she would tell them the truth. That was what they should have done. Instead, Erlich dropped this dirty little job in my lap.
I was not some undercover agent and I didn’t like doing this one little bit. If Erlich was dirty, this was a chance for him to clear the board of civilians who knew too much. If this was a test, I was just going to be pissed at the guy but he would live, and hopefully so would I. I really wanted to avoid getting killed, if at all possible.
I now had something to live for, after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
I stood cooling my heels next the big water carrier and waited while residents of the transformed high school filled their water buckets. Of course, I’d been watching for Summer the whole time. Not only did I not see a miniature version of Lori, I didn’t see any girls who fit that age range. Most of the people who trudged by were sullen, angry looking men in filthy clothes that hung from their bodies like laundry flapping in the breeze.
No one said a word to me but quite a few wasted their breath delivering insults and abuse to the National Guard troops monitoring the line. Sergean Erlich had six men under him, split between the tanker truck and a Humvee with a machine gun mounted on top.
While the line of refugees shrank, I noticed Erlich making a casual, almost relaxed circuit of his men. I heard none of his instructions, but each man appeared a little more alert once the sergeant drifted off. Of Mark I saw no sign, but I knew he’d made some kind of arrangement with the sergeant to maintain watch down the street. Mark was probably on top of a building somewhere, staring through the scope of his hunting rifle, a sweet bolt action in 300 Win Mag.
Conners drifted over closer to me and whispered
in my direction. “Showtime.”
He was accompanied by a slender African American private first class who gave me a nervous smile.
“Luke, this is PFC Barden. He’s with me as your escort. I take it you did not see Ms. Thompson out here getting water?”
“No corporal. That would be too easy. I didn’t see any of the girls who might have been in that group. Lori said the director usually doesn’t let them out, especially after she got through to you guys and made her request for transport back home. And please, call me Scott. Scott Thompson.”
“Cool, Scott. Do you know where in the school your sister and her friends are being held? We may have to cut through some red tape to get her, and them, out.”
“Lori said they were keeping the young girls, not just the Oklahoma girls but all of them, in the band hall.”
“Well, let’s go do it,” PFC Barden said, and he gave that big smile of his again. Not so friendly, this time. More like a hungry wolf. Turning on my heels, I started towards the school, flanked by the two soldiers.
When we’d first arrived that morning, I thought Mark had gotten the address wrong. The school complex occupied a huge chunk of real estate and the concrete buildings boasted an eight foot tall chain link fence encompassing the grounds. If you uprooted the entire elementary, junior high and high school I went to in Ripley you might fill up one small corner of this campus.
Of course, the place was also depressing as heck. It reminded me of riding with my family through Huntsville, back in Texas, and seeing the multiple prisons dominating the town. This resembled a minimum security unit at least, but still. How did the builders expect the kids to learn anything in this sad setting? A moot point, now.
Entry was limited to a pair of breaks in the fence, the first being at a kind of sally port with two large chain link gates leading to what appeared to be a series of large metal bus barns. The second, closer entryway was our objective. The broad, concrete structure featured a row of windows running along the second floor but the ground level was broken only by a single entry way, a double door affair with thick sheet metal bolted into place. Once the last of the water bearers scurried back inside, the large metal doors started to close.
Fortunately, we arrived in time and Conners stuck his booted foot in the way of the left hand side closing door. I wouldn’t have done it. I wanted both my feet still attached to my body but apparently Conners knew what he was doing and the door stopped about midways shut.
Then the door began to open and the three of us slipped inside. The door emptied into a wide but shallow antechamber (another of my favorite big words), and the windows overhead gave us enough light to make out the shape of the front door guard.
The guy was huge, easily six feet eight inches tall and I guessed his weight was well over three hundred pounds. He sported a blonde crewcut and his face was partially hidden in shadow from the poor lighting. The pump shotgun in his hands looked like a toy as he held the weapon across his chest.
“What’s up, soldier boy?” he asked, his voice surprising pleasant given his scary appearance.
“Just got a pickup. This kid is here to pick up his little sister. Summer Thompson is her name.”
Conners said it like this was just an everyday occurrence but from the guard’s reaction I could tell this was simply not the case.
“Sorry, name doesn’t ring a bell. You know everything like that has to go through Director Jimenez. Especially if she’s a minor? She’s a kid, right?”
“Yes, David, she’s a kid. Can I see the director then, please? Scott here has come a long ways to get his sister.”
The giant, David, shrugged his shoulders before responding.
“Sorry, soldier boy. The director is in a meeting and he asked to not be disturbed. You can make an appointment and come back later, though. Or the kid can stick around and wait. I know you guys have a schedule to keep. I’ll be sure and take care of this young man while you are gone.”
I’m sure his plans for me included a bullet in the back of my head and maybe an unmarked grave. Maybe just dumping my carcass out back behind some bushes. Either way, Corporal Conners seemed to make a decision. He’d already expressed his concerns about exactly what Jimenez was doing here, but the guard’s attitude seemed to confirm something for him.
“Sorry, David. I’m afraid I must insist. The sergeant sent me on this little errand, and you know how pushy he can be. If Jimenez is too busy to see me, then maybe you can just get someone to escort us to the kids. We’ll find her ourselves.”
While they were talking, I slipped my hand into the front pocket of my shorts and carefully withdrew my knife. This was a locking folder model with a thumb assist, and a 2 ½ inch blade and a handy crosspiece. That feature prevented my fingers from slipping up on the blade while I was stabbing. Compact when closed, the knife fit easily in the palm of my hand. Now I flicked the blade open and held it down by my side. Waiting for the moment to strike.
When David took a step forward I braced to move but Barden was already in motion. The barrel of his carbine swiveled up and centered between the giant’s eyes. The PFC wasn’t smiling now.
“Stop right there, sir. Place the shotgun on the ground and take a step back.”
Barden’s voice was conversational, not raised or sounding stressed in any way.
David looked over, saw the hole at the end of the short rifle and did as he was told. He moved sluggishly, obviously not liking where this was going.
“You got no authority here. You can’t do this,” he protested even as he laid the shotgun on the tiled floor.
“Actually, we can,” Conners replied as he leaned forward and picked up the shotgun. It didn’t have a sling and he was momentarily at a loss. He stood there holding the shotgun and looked back at David.
“The Governor has mobilized the National Guard and we are acting under that authority. Governor Watkins has declared a state of emergency and has called on all Guard units to assist local law enforcement and disaster relief agencies. That is what we are doing here. Assisting. If you refuse to cooperate, then I am going to have to assist a bullet into your brainpan. You get me?”
David nodded, his face now set in a mask of fury. “Just wait until the Director finds out about this.”
“Well, then, let’s go find him. And David, don’t try anything stupid. Seriously. I will kill you and step over your body without breaking stride.”
Conners spoke in such a matter of fact, cold tone that I completely and utterly believed him. Gone was the earlier slightly gawky corporal with his Birth Control glasses and a slight trace of acne on his cheeks. Oh, he still had the glasses and the pimples, but his take charge personality was something new.
Finally making a decision, Conners handed the shotgun to me and growled, “Don’t let me catch you playing around with this. You are just carrying it for me. Got that.”
“Yes, corporal,” I replied crisply.
Then, while Barden kept the guard covered, Conners pulled out two pair of flex cuffs and secured David’s hands behind his back. David outweighed Barden and Conners together, but his earlier cockiness seemed to have faded from the big man.
“Alright, lead the way,” Conners prompted, and David led us past the inert metal detectors and down the still deserted hallway. If anyone had overheard the earlier confrontation, they did not dare stick their heads out from the closed doors lining the hall.
David walked in front, followed by Barden, who kept his carbine centered on the big man’s back. Conners brought up the rear and I was sandwiched between the two soldiers. I carried the shotgun, a Mossberg 500 it looked like, barrel down and the butt almost touching my shoulder. When I discretely checked, I found a shell already in the chamber. I didn’t know what kind of shell but at close range, I figured even bird shot could do the job.
When we reached a stairway, David came to halt and his three trailing captors stopped as well. The big man was looking up, as if gauging the odds.
“What are
we doing stopping here?” Conners demanded.
“You wanted to see the director. He’s in a meeting up there.” David nodded, not able to use his finger to point. He seemed very nervous, and I wondered if he was thinking double cross us.
“I’ve been to his office, David. It’s up ahead there.”
“He’s not in his office. We can go check. He’s got guests, though. He’s upstairs in one of the conference rooms.”
This could be a problem. I looked at Conners and he gave me a nod.
“You know how to use that knife, kid?”
“What do you need cut?”
“Well, I am thinking we need to pull David into one of these offices and ask him some more questions. Pointed questions. What do you think Barden?”
“Well, I’ve never been much for using a knife, myself. You ever have to skin anything, Scott?” Barden gave us that smile again even as he kept David in the crosshairs.
Taking their cue, I shifted the shotgun and slowly withdrew the little folder. The blade appeared as if by magic and I looked meaningfully at the big man.
“I’ve never killed anybody this big with a knife before.”
I tried to let a little crazy leak into my words as I performed for the prisoner. “Does that mean he’s got more blood in him than a regular sized person? When I skinned this one fellow outside Danvers…well, it doesn’t matter now.”
I looked at the big man when I spoke, and something he saw on my face made him blanch. I was bluffing, wasn’t I?
With that, Conners opened a side door, glanced around quickly inside, and ushered David through into the dimly lit room. The windows outside actually extended about six inches down to the first floor offices, I found, and gave a small amount of light to the exterior office.
Barden guided David over to the far wall and backed off a pace, giving him plenty of separation from his prisoner in case he decided to try a rush.
“David, who is visiting with Director Jimenez?”
“I don’t know. There’s just three guys who came up this morning, before you guys showed up. I challenged them at the door but they knew…”
Home Fires Burning (Walking in the Rain Book 2) Page 15
