by D W McAliley
He was a murderer.
The thought played over and over in his head, and he couldn't escape it. Eric suddenly felt ill, and his stomach rolled. He shook off the hands that tried to hold him, lurched to his feet, and took three wobbling steps. Vomit spewed from his mouth in a violent retch; he stumbled and fell forward.
The world faded around him slowly.
His last conscious thought was that he was a murderer, so it was only fitting for him to die too.
Ch.45
Changing of the Guard
Mike followed Terrance to the corner of the fence line. They got there just in time to see three large, green trucks with canvas-covered cargo areas drive up the long driveway from the main road. The trucks parked, and one man in an FSS uniform stepped out of the cab of the lead truck. The two FSS officers that were working the gate of the camp walked up to greet the newcomer.
The man from the truck leaned close to the gate officer and whispered to him. After a moment, the gate officer nodded and stepped back. He gave a loud whistle and made several gestures. With one motion, the FSS officers in the guard towers all climbed down from their posts and sprinted for the trucks. The men loaded evenly into the canvas covered beds, and as soon as the last man was on board, the trucks pulled away.
The National Guard troops stood in stunned disbelief, gaping at each other in confusion.
Mike glanced over at Terrance. "I take it they've never done that before?"
Terrance shook his head. "Nope, that's the first time."
Mike glanced around at the rest of the people he could see inside the camp, and they all were pointing to the empty guard posts and whispering. A few of the National Guard troopers climbed down and were exchanging words as well. Mike nodded to Terrance, and the two started edging toward the fence line to see if they could hear what was being said.
One of the Guardsmen saw them, though, and pointed back toward the tents. "You folks need to move back to the housing area, please," he said, his voice indicating that he didn't expect any argument. Mike noticed the man's hand shaking a bit as he pointed back up the hill, and that realization was chilling.
The Guardsman was afraid.
Mike looked around again and saw that people were getting more agitated, and some raised their voices. "That might not be a bad idea, " he whispered to Terrance, and they turned back the way they'd come.
As they moved, there was a wave of noise behind them as people received word of FSS abandoning their posts. Mike turned back when they were halfway up the slope and saw a crowd gathering in the pool of the solar powered flood lights. They were coming in two and three at the time, and the mass of people was rapidly growing. A few of the National Guard troops were on the other side of the closed gates, their heads together as they whispered among themselves.
"We should hurry," Mike whispered to Terrance, and he picked up his pace. "I think things are about to get very tense at the gate and that might open a window that we can't afford to let close."
"Uh, Mister Mike, we're in a tent," Terrance said, confused. "No windows in a tent. At least, none in the kind they gave us."
Mike shook his head, "That's not what I meant. Look, I'd rather not talk about it out here where anyone can overhear it."
Terrance nodded, and they started to jog uphill. By the time they left the Rows and headed up into the random tent huddles, there were shouts echoing from the direction of the gates. Mike nudged Terrance faster. When they reached Terrance's family and their small group of tents, both men were out of breath. Mike stood bent double, his hands on his knees, drawing breaths in deeply through his mouth. Maybe at thirty-three, he was too old for a sprint uphill on rough terrain, but fear was a powerful motivator.
"What is all the noise?" Alyssa asked angrily as she threw the tent flap aside and stormed out into the settling evening. She drew up short when she saw Mike's face. "Is something wrong?" she asked, suddenly serious.
Mike nodded. "The FSS guards are gone. They loaded up in three huge trucks and just drove off. Happened right after they closed and locked the gates, when the changing of the guard should have been."
Maria frowned, her head cocked to the side. "That doesn't make any sense," she said. "With only the National Guard, there aren't enough to man the towers; not even half."
Terrance nodded. "There's already a crowd down by the gate yellin for them to open it so we can leave to. Can't hear what the guards are sayin, but they ain't opened the gate."
Alyssa shot a meaningful look at Mike, and he straightened. "Listen," he said quietly, looking each member of the group in the eye as he spoke low and fast. "I've got a small pair of wire snips in my boot. If we work together we can open a small hole in the back side of the fence while all the attention is on the gate. If we're lucky, we can sneak around the camp and hug the shore for a while to head back down to Maria's house."
"And what then?" Terrance's aunt asked. "What do we do once we're outside the protection of the fence and just walkin on our own? We can't hole up in that house forever, and what then?"
Mike shook his head. "If you're looking for guarantees, I don't have any. All I can promise is that we get out of here safe now, tonight, or we don't get out. Those are choices y'all got to make. I've already made mine. If you want to go, you be ready to walk in ten minutes."
Mike started to bend and get his pack, but Alyssa cleared her throat. "Mike, I think we all agree that it's way past time to leave here by any means necessary. We're ready to go when you are."
Terrance and his Aunt and cousins nodded their agreement.
"That works for me," Mike said and he knelt, working the plastic wrapped razor knife from the top of his boot. Once the blade was out, he did the same for the wire cutters in his other boot. "Alyssa, you take the razor blade. Anyone gets past Terrance and his cudgel, you start cutting. All we take is food and water. Grab the blankets if they're wool. We need to move fast and quiet. Don't tell anyone where we're going, just keep moving forward. Got it?"
As Mike's words trailed off, there was a sudden collective gasp from the crowd down by the gates. In the rippling wave of silence that rolled out from the crowd, Mike caught the faint echo of rapid gunfire not far off—and lots of it. There was a brief pause of silence as the echo of the last gunshot faded away. And then a massive roar went up from the gates.
Mike looked around and saw his own fears reflected in the faces around him. "Grab whatever you can carry," he said, his voice shaking. "Put whatever water you can fit in my pack, and the rest in Alyssa's pack. As soon as we get everything secured, we move. Let’s go!"
Within a few moments, Mike and Alyssa's packs were loaded and they were moving in a tight single file group. Mike led the way and Alyssa kept the razor sharp box opener in her hand, her eyes wary. Terrance brought up the rear with his long arms and heavy hardwood stick.
They made their way to the long stretch of fencing at the very back edge of the camp. From there, the ground sloped down and away toward the lake in a series of sharp gullies and deep washes. None of the nearby guard towers had Guardsmen in them, and most of the tents they passed were empty, the occupants having headed to the front of the camp to see what the commotion was all about. The few people they did pass had the good sense to mind their own business.
When they reached the fence line, Mike had Alyssa cut down a nearby empty tent. She quickly cut the thick canvas fabric into four sections. Terrance and his aunt wrapped both their hands in one patch each. They took hold of the razor wire carefully with their padded hands and held it tight. Mike used his wire snips to cut the razor sharp wire.
He made it through the first strand without cutting himself or anyone else. More gunshots rang out in the distance, but these were much closer and more crisp. Whoever was doing the shooting, was moving closer. Mike nodded for Terrance and his aunt to take the next run of wire in their canvas covered hands. They pulled the wire carefully straight and Mike started trying to cut through it.
Mike tried twice, b
ut the wire was just too thick where he was trying to cut it. The snips slipped from his fingers and fell to the thick leaf litter. Mike bit back a curse. "You gotta get a different grip," he whispered. "Careful, though."
A few of the people in nearby tents were starting to look their way and whisper to each other. Terrance nodded to Mike and let go of the razor wire. The tension in the unrolled spool snapped back and one of the shining blades sliced across the back of Mike's left forearm.
"Oh God," Terrance said, "Is it bad? I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."
Mike took off his shirt and wrapped it around his forearm as tightly as he could. He started to shake his head and lie, but suddenly there was a booming explosion from the direction of the gates. A fire ball rose into the night sky, and there were screams. Gun shots rang out again, but these weren't dim echoes. They were loud, and they didn't stop.
Mike looked up at Terrance, and tried to keep a steady voice. "It's okay, Terrace," Mike said calmly. "I need you to focus and take the wire again, but give me a narrow spot to cut this time."
Another round of shots from the gates, and Terrance's head popped up.
"Terrance," Mike said again, a little louder. The young man looked back at him. "I need you to focus, okay? I've got this wire and two more to cut through. Whatever is going on at the gates, it isn't happening here. Not yet. And if we are going to get out of here, you've got to focus."
Terrance nodded again. "Yes sir, Mister Mike," the young man said, his voice shaky. "I'm sorry."
Terrance gripped the wire again with his aunt on the other side. They were careful and held it so that Mike had a clear shot at the thin space between the blades. Mike felt the leaves and found his snips. His left forearm throbbed, and he could feel the shirt wrapped around it growing warm as the blood soaked through. He clipped the wire, and Terrance took three steps to the side before releasing the loose end. He eyed the next strand like a coiled viper, but he took it anyway.
Mike tried not to think about the sounds coming from the gates. The gunfire was growing more sporadic, but the screams had grown louder, and they were getting closer. One of the families from a nearby tent that had been poking their heads out of the doorway came rushing over. Terrance started toward them, but Mike grabbed his ankle and shook his head.
"Are y'all cutting through the fence?" one of them asked, and Mike was surprised to hear a girl's voice.
He looked at the strangers again and saw six kids, the oldest of them maybe seventeen. They were all trembling.
"Yes," Alyssa answered. "Where are your parents?"
The girl shook her head. "Don't know. I was out at a party when it happened. I walked home from my friend's house, and my parents were gone. They left a note saying they were looking for me."
The girl’s voice started to shake, and Alyssa moved to put an arm around her. The girl shied away, though, and wouldn't let Alyssa touch her. "We just want to get out of here."
Mike clipped through the last two spools of wire as quickly as he could. His left arm was throbbing with a dull consistency that was growing more difficult to ignore, and his left fingertips were starting to tingle. When he clipped through the last run of wire, Mike stood and turned. The world kept spinning past when it should have stopped, and Mike's vision suddenly narrowed to a dim point far in front of him.
With stark clarity, he saw the silhouette of a man crest the hill at a full run. Just then there were three flashes from the gates and Mike wondered absently why lightning was flashing so low and why the thunder wasn't louder. He felt himself begin to fall backwards, but he never quite reached the ground. Something cushioned what should have been a hard impact.
As the blackness closed over him, Mike heard someone mumble, "I think he's passing out."
It sounded like a good idea, and so he did.
At least his arm didn't hurt anymore.
Ch.46
Aftermath
Joe stepped out the front door and onto the porch. Beth stood at the railing, her back to him. She was looking up at the clear night sky as she spoke. "I never knew how many we were missing. Even way out here, where I thought we could see them all, there were so many more that were hidden. Do you ever look up at it and just wonder?"
Joe never took his eyes from his wife. "Yes," he answered after the silence had stretched for a moment. "You never get used to it. Even when you know it's coming."
Beth chuckled. "I should have expected to get an answer like that, I guess. You've probably seen more stars than this in some of the places you went...before..."
Joe did glance up then, but only for a moment. "Not more, but there were times I saw different stars. That's what's most unsettling. Looking up and not recognizing a single star in the sky. South of the Equator, the sky and the stars in it are strangers."
When his eyes dropped, Beth was looking at him, big tears standing out on her cheeks. Joe felt his throat tighten, and he didn't try to speak. In two steps he had Beth in his arms, rubbing her back soothingly. She sobbed heavily but silently against him. They stayed like that long after Beth's crying stopped, neither knowing exactly how to breach the silence between them.
"Is he okay?" Beth whispered after a while.
"Yes," Joe said softly. "He's asleep for now. He didn't eat anything at supper, but he drank a little water before bed. That's a good sign."
"You still think he'll be better by morning?" Beth asked, looking up at Joe, and inspecting his face in the dim starlight.
Joe couldn't help but smile. "Probably," he answered truthfully. "I've seen this before in the younger guys we trained. First mission someone had to actually pull the trigger. Most of the time, they shook it off, and finished the mission. Sometimes they didn't."
Beth waited, but Joe didn't go on.
"What happened those times?" She asked.
Joe was silent for a long time. Finally, he gave a half shake of his head and sighed deeply. "I'll have a talk with him tomorrow when the sun's up."
Beth pulled back and looked at him for a moment, but if she had any other questions, she didn't ask them. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder and held him closer. Despite years spent off the teams, there were still some things Joe just couldn't bring himself to discuss.
"We'd better go inside," Beth said sleepily. "You're gonna have an early morning and it's already late."
"Are you really tired?" Joe asked softly, and Beth shook her head. "Well, let's stay a while, then. There haven't been many times we've been able to share a night sky like this."
"Well let's at least get under some covers, then," Beth said, shivering.
The air wasn't quite cold, but it was certainly chilly. Joe was warm natured and hadn't noticed, but Beth was prone to chills. He had brought a quilt out and laid it on the bench, and now they retreated to it. Beth wrapped the cover around her shoulders and Joe's as they sat. She nestled against him and sighed again, happier this time.
"Remember that one night in King's Canyon?" Beth asked after a brief silence.
Joe snorted. "Of course. How could I forget? That was about the coldest I've ever been."
Beth smiled. "Sure was a pretty sky, though," she said. "Stars as far as we could see in all directions. And clear as a bell too."
"And cold," Joe said.
Beth laughed and snuggled closer to him. She started to tell the story of their ill-fated camping trip years before. And although Joe had heard the story many times before, not to mention having lived it as well, he listened again with a smile on his face.
Ch.47
A Quick Visit
Marcus handed over his ID card and signed a clip board that the Chief held out for him. The man's face was lined, and his hair was steel gray shot through with some snow white, but his arms and shoulders looked strong. He held himself with the same quiet confidence and poise that Marcus had seen in many of the recalled Special Operators around the base.
"Thank you, sir," the man said. "Commander's orders, I have to call this in, and you can't
visit for more than five minutes. Door stays open the whole time."
Marcus nodded, and the Chief turned to lead him down the hall. At the second door he unlocked both locks and opened the door out into the hall. He fixed Marcus with one more look. "Five minutes, Lieutenant Commander, and I'll be right outside the whole time."
Marcus nodded and stepped into the room as the Chief pushed a button on his communication unit and spoke softly into the small microphone clipped to his collar. A bed sat against the far wall, a thin foam pad on a rough metal shelf. A wall mounted sink and toilet were in one corner, and two folded jumpsuits sat atop each other in the other. The single occupant of the room sat on the edge of the bed, his long legs drawn up so his knees were bent and his feet were nearly underneath the bed. The detainee's face rested in his hands and he stared dejectedly at the floor.
Marcus cleared his throat, and the young software tech looked up hesitantly. He half shook his head and put his eyes back on the floor. "Look, I keep trying to tell those two guards that I didn't do anything, but all they do is shove an MRE and two bottles of water through the door three times a day. Neither of them ever say a word."
"Mr. Hamilton," Marcus began, "I don't believe you killed anyone, and I certainly don't believe you're involved in some super secret plot. From your file, you've worked here six years, and you've been an adequate if not stellar employee."
Hamilton snorted softly, but he didn't say anything.
"Given the circumstance," Marcus continued, "I'd say that's a point in your favor. I'd have been a lot more suspicious if you'd proven to be an exemplary employee."
Hamilton's head fell back, a sardonic half smile on his face. "No chance of that with me, Lt. Commander," he said. "But I didn't kill Jacobs. He was a nice guy even if he was a slacker. I liked him."
