* * *
Who do you think they are?” Stuart asked once the truck had picked up speed again, counting on the sound of the passing wind to cover his hushed words.
“I don’t know. You recognized their guns though. What do you think?” Randolph asked.
“Military gear. Plus, their packs and camelbacks. The kid has some Molle stuff that isn’t in circulation anymore. I mean, other than the guns… maybe they’re national guardsmen?”
Randolph thought about that, “I don’t know. The big fella looked a little long in the tooth to be active duty still, even if he does look like a black Schwarzenegger. The kid looks maybe 19. Something… there’s something.”
“They probably think the same about us,” Stuart said. “What time are the others coming?”
“I put the word out. I’m guessing we’re going to be having about ten men show up later on. It depends on how they get out here, it’s going to be a bitch to backtrack everything.”
“I know, and I tried already,” Stuart said, “If we can pry Brad away from that senorita we should let him go with it. He’s the professional hunter.
Randolph was already nodding his head. They rode in silence, chewing on many thoughts and made it to the outskirts of Spafford faster than either had expected.
“Somethings wrong,” Randolph said.
Streamers of smoke rose, not big billowing clouds of a new or active fire, but the remains of a large one. One that was almost dead.
“I don’t like the look of this. Stop the truck,” Stu said in a commanding tone that Randolph hadn’t heard from him before.
He pulled over to the side, making sure not to brake too hard and make the strangers bang their heads on the glass.
“This town?” King said as the two got out.
“Something’s wrong,” Stuart said reaching in and unclipping the AK-47s and handing one to Randolph.
“I been smelling smoke. Is that something new?” King asked.
“Yeah, we dropped a friend off here yesterday,” Stu told them.
“Want backup?” Michael asked.
Stu got a good look at the kid. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but the kid was strapped with a matching pair of colts, he just had overlooked that when he saw the packs and the M4s. The kid was better armed than any of them.
“Where y’all from? I can’t place your accent,” Randolph asked instead.
“Alabama,” King said, “No place nice.”
“Where you headed with that kinda gear?” Stu asked.
“Son,” King said, “If you don’t want us going your way, we’re heading south towards Mexico. I don’t mind moving on, if we make you nervous.”
Michael stood there softly watching the exchange, in a tense silence.
“So is that a no?” Michael asked, tugging the chest straps on his pack tight.
“I don’t mind,” Randolph said, “Stu’s just a bit jittery. We’ve had some problems in these parts lately. I think having a couple more guns at our side might make this old man feel better.”
“Ok,” Stuart said after a moment and nodded.
“When’d you serve?” King asked Stu suddenly.
“Still in, got stranded when the balloon went up.”
King nodded, “Stick tight kid, or head towards the base in about two weeks.”
“What?” Stu asked, “Why would you…”
Then it struck him, the gear, the guns.
“You’re— “
“Just somebody passing through, willing to lend a hand. Making no trouble for you guys.” King said.
“Leave it,” Randolph said, “There might be trouble and I don’t want to keep it waiting.”
“Brad,” Stu muttered under his breath.
* * *
“Somebody tried to light this place,” King said, walking into the house they’d left Brad at.
“How can you tell?” Michael asked.
“You didn’t go in that bedroom. Don’t,” King said when Michael went to look, “You don’t need to see that. Whoever it was, did something terrible.”
The big man’s hands were clenched and his knuckles popped audibly. Michael hadn’t seen King angry like this before. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he ever saw King anything but a picture of control, almost emotionless, except when he saw Sandra.
“Scorch marks on the floor,” Randolph said coming out of the room, a sickened expression on his face.
“Any sign of Brad or the girl?” Stuart asked.
“Girl?” King said, his head shooting around to look at the young soldier.
“A girl found us yesterday, her mom was sick. Brad came over here to help and ended up staying. Mom was in bad shape. Heat stroke and bad dehydration.”
“And they did that to her…” King wiped his mouth.
“It was like Talladega?” Michael asked and, without looking at him, King nodded.
“Maybe they’re over at Joe’s,” Randolph said.
“The goat farm you mentioned?” King asked.
“That’s the one.”
“Let’s go,” King said.
Randolph and Stu exchanged looks and shrugged. Whatever King was talking about had disgusted him as much as the rape and murder of Marcy. Just inside the bedroom they’d found the plaster to the right of the door blown away by a handgun round, but no handgun was in the room. Just the corpse. King had kept Michael out of the room. Somewhere in the chaos, they had decided to try to burn the place. Judging by the scorch marks, they poured something on the carpet in the bedroom and tried to light a fire. They had probably left before smoke had smothered the fire. All the doors and windows had been shut tightly.
King followed the two men at a distance and Michael made sure to keep a distance from King in case they came under fire, so he wouldn’t be lined up like Randolph was doing with Stu. The goat farm was closer than either of them had thought. They expected to hear the goats and see them. Instead, they found cut fences and no sign of anything and anyone.
“Even took his car,” Randolph said.
King started walking, gave Michael a look and he followed.
“Where are you going?” Randolph called.
“South,” King said, “Same as before, except now I am going to be on the lookout. You coming?”
“Let’s all go in the truck,” Stu said.
“We have to wait on the other guys,” Randolph said.
“You wait if you want,” King said, “But they’ve got a girl. Either come or not; I’m going.”
“Come on Randolph,” Stu said, “Let’s get the truck.”
“It’s suicide,” Randolph said, “We’re playing soldier here, these guns, those guys Joe killed. They’re terrorists.”
King stopped and turned around.
“You’ve seen them?” He asked.
“Yesterday, we found bodies. My friend Joe was dead and one Mexican Coyote and some middle eastern men. All early to mid-20s.
“Where are they?” King asked, “The bodies?”
“We dumped them in the desert, a mile that way,” Stu pointed.
“Figure out if you want to help us or not, old man,” King said starting to walk again, “but we’re going that way and if we can find a lift along the way…”
Randolph sputtered but Michael and King walked on. After a while Michael stopped and looked back. The men were still arguing.
“Think they’re going to come?” Michael asked.
“Yup,” he said and kept going.
“Then why don’t we wait?” he asked.
“I want to look at the bodies myself.”
In about ten minutes they both had worked up a sweat again and Michael was tired. This was roughly the time when they had planned to sleep, and every day, until they slipped over the border and into Mexico. Instead, they were heading off to look at dead bodies. The vultures gave a pretty good indication they were on the right track. In another five minutes they left the road and followed the birds that had been taking off and landing.
> Michael fought down his gorge as he saw the corpse. There wasn’t four or five, whatever the old man had said, just one dead Mexican coyote.
“There were supposed to be more,” Michael said.
“There was. Look at the drag marks,” King showed him where a heel had scuffed a line in the dry desert hard pack, “And they went that way,” King pointed.
“I don’t see a trail,” Michael admitted after a minute.
“Truck or Jeep. Probably a truck or three,” King said, “Hard to tell, except there’s two tracks.”
“I’ll follow along.” Michael said and shouldered his rifle.
Both were startled when they heard the distant booming and rifle fire. It wasn’t loud, but the wind carried the faint but distinctive sounds to King’s ears.
“Is that…”
“No,” King said, “That’s way too far away. Maybe we’ll be there in a day or two but it’s in the wrong direction. Something else is going on.”
“Do you think… are they attacking?” Michael asked.
“Sounds like it. The first big push of the New Caliphate. Let’s go.”
11
“Bring me the Americans,” Khalid instructed his lieutenant.
“Right away sir,” he said, and departed.
While he waited, he puzzled over the scant intel the team had found and the potential repercussions of what had happened in Spafford. They had gone to determine if Rishaan had been ambushed and killed by a much larger force. Instead, they’d found the bodies of his scouting team, along with the Mexican Guide. They had searched a nearby farm for any signs of activity and had found the freshly turned earth and had dug down enough to find the body of Joe.
But was there a larger force at play? That was the question. The auxiliary airfield had been searched and appeared to be totally abandoned as if it hadn’t been touched in months, if not years. It was just a spare landing strip for a just in case.
“The prisoners,” the lieutenant said and nodded for the two to come in.
Brad and Maria had been sitting and waiting for this moment. They had both been allowed to go to the bathroom and were given water, then their ropes had been traded out for zip ties, binding their wrists and palms together effectively.
“Please, sit,” Khalid said pointing to two small stools.
They sat, uneasily. The girl looked terrified and evidence of tears streaked the dust and dirt on her face. Brad had cleaned up the wound on his head the best he could in the short time, but it was still dirty and congealed blood covered the scalp wound.
“Thanks,” Brad said with bloodless lips.
Maria said nothing, looking to her fellow prisoner.
“Are you from Spafford?” Khalid asked suddenly.
“She is, I’m not. Brackettville’s where I’m from.” Brad answered for both.
“Interesting. Are you a soldier or American policeman?”
“No, I’m a hunter,” Brad said confused, “Just come into town to help out a friend and do some trading for some goats for our town.”
“And you,” he said looking at Maria, “Surely you’re not a soldier or police officer, are you?”
His tone was pleasant, but she never met his eyes. She was shaking when she answered.
“No sir, I’m in first grade. My momma is sick, I’ve got to go back and check on her. Please?”
“Not yet,” Khalid said, “I just want to ask you some questions. Are you from Mexico?”
Brad looked up at Khalid when he asked that, but Khalid just waved a hand, silencing him.
“No sir, I was born in Texas. My great Grandpa was from Mexico, but he talked with a funny accent when he spoke in Spanish. Kind of how you speak with a funny accent in English.”
“It does sound funny, doesn’t it?” Khalid said.
“Not ha-ha funny, like that TV reporter guy, or the talk show guy with the horse.”
Khalid looked at her, confused.
“She thinks you sound British,” Brad supplied.
“Ah yes, I went to Cambridge for a time, before I had to move. Now little girl, what is your name?”
“I’m Maria, and that’s Mister Brad. He was helping us because my mom got sick. Please mister, I have to get back to check on her. Mister Brad too.”
Khalid looked at Brad, and he nodded back to his captor in acknowledgement.
“How is it a hunter comes to one of the smallest towns in Texas, armed as you were found?”
“Why were we taken?” Brad asks suddenly.
Khalid rubbed his chin, straightening his beard in his hand before saying, “I needed information. If you give it to me, I will hold you here at this camp and leave you behind when our Caliphate moves on.”
“There’s no way I can trust that,” Brad spat, “Look what you…” he looked to Maria and then looked to Khalid.
“I do not have all of the information as of yet. I need it one way or another. Unlike some of my brothers, I do not believe in the more… unpleasant ways of getting my information.”
“Could have fooled me,” Brad snapped back and Maria shrank into her chair, tears forming. “I have a pretty good idea what happened after I was knocked out. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know if you give your word, pray to Allah or whatever, that if I tell you whatever it is you want, the girl is safe and can go free when you’re done with us.”
Khalid considered it for a moment, “Do you want to go home, Maria?”
The little girl nodded.
“I will say this,” Khalid told them both, “My ways are not the ways of all of my followers and soldiers. I will guarantee her safety until we are done with this area. What the advisors and coyotes do is of no concern to me. Now, I have ten minutes until I must leave to coordinate something. If your information is not accurate and concise, I’ll turn the girl over to my men and only when she is done, you shall be. Do we have an understanding?”
“You’re a monster,” Brad said quietly, “If you go back on this, I’ll hunt you down and…”
“Please, you are in no position to threaten me. Most men in my position would have had you beaten half to death just as a warm up. I have done no harm and I’ve done my utmost to not… frighten Maria. I will only ask once more, do we have an agreement?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
* * *
Brad and Maria were led to a separate tent. The center pole was dug deep into the desert soil with the ropes on the outside pulling the edges tight. It was to the central pole that both were bound, back to back, sitting flat on the ground. One of the guard’s mouths curved up into a half leer and Khalid’s hand flashed out, hitting the man in the side of the neck, dropping him to the ground. Stunned.
“They are to remain unharmed. If you have a problem with this, I shall eviscerate you myself and leave your corpse for the wild pigs.”
The man paled and picked himself back up and nodded, “Yes Khalid,” he said, all ardor gone from his expression.
“Sir, communications say they are ready,” another man said, running up and handing the Commander a portable handset.
“Squad 3-7 redeploy to Laughlin. Squad Commanders, fire at will,” Khalid said and threw the handset back at the startled lieutenant.
Brad and Maria watched as Khalid, the Spear of Allah, left. The guards moved out of their field of vision and the flap of the tent closed, leaving them almost blind in the absence of light.
“Did they hurt my mom?” Maria asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” Brad said, “I was knocked out.”
“I heard her screaming and crying for a while. She isn’t sick anymore, is she?” Maria’s chest was hitching and, back to back, Brad could feel it.
“I don’t think so.”
“Who’s going to take care of me if she’s gone?”
The question and the way the raw emotion came out of the young girl’s voice hit Brad like a hammer. Suddenly he had a big speck of dust in his eye and he couldn’t wipe the moisture away. He tried to talk, but a fro
g was in his throat or he was choked up. Coughing a couple of times, he told her either the biggest lie ever, or wishful thinking on his part.
“I’ll take care of you when we get out of here,” he told her, “we’ll find out for sure about your mom, I promise.”
They both sat there and listened as in a distance mortars and artillery started firing. The deep thunks were the loudest things they heard, and it was at a distance.
“Are we going to get out of here?” Maria asked once her sobs settled down.
“I hope so, I pray to God and I hope so.”
“Do you know the serenity prayer, Mister Brad?”
Together, they recited it.
God, give us grace to accept with serenity
The things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.
Amen.
12
“John, this is Sandra, do you copy? Over?”
“John here,” he said, smiling at the sound of the familiar voice coming in over the scrambled channel.
“Last minute intel has them coming for Sauz Mexico to hit Laughlin Airforce Base, do you read? Over.”
“Oh yeah. Trust me, these boys are going to regret crossing the Rio Grande. Fixing to engage. Stand by Homestead, over.”
“Over and out,” Sandra said, the radio crackling.
“Boys,” John said looking around the group, noticing Caitlin, “and ladies, it’s time. Everyone have their positions and placements picked out?”
They all nodded. Each of the members standing around the small card table in John’s mini-camp was one of the operators who had helped break Americans out of three NATO-run FEMA camps. Those camps were the most corrupt and, with the disappearance of Lukashenko, the abuses were likely to not happen again, ever. The other camps were being run differently, even if staffed by the emerging national guard or NATO. The new model on rebuilding was coming out of Kentucky, led by Sandra’s husband as a matter of fact…
The World On Fire Page 8
