by N. C. Reed
He opened his basement door and kicked the Hummer into neutral, then pushed it slowly outside. Once clear of the door he stopped it and got inside. He started the engine and let the vehicle roll as quietly as possible down the drive for about two hundred feet away from the house where he placed the rig back into neutral and engaged the parking brake, allowing the engine to idle while he returned to the basement.
He looked through various crates until he found what he wanted. He had been a bit hypocritical with Bear about things he acknowledged, but that stemmed more from worrying that they had brought so much stuff across so much territory in one fell swoop.
He opened the crate and spent an hour working, disassembling, cleaning, reassembling and then setting the item, finally laying it in the Hummer's rear seat. By then the idling vehicle had reached operating temperature for nearly that entire hour and was still looking good. Satisfied he shut it down after backing it into the basement once more.
Next, he readied his personal gear which took another half-hour or so. When he was done, he noted the time and decided it was time for bed.
A cold shower would wake him fine in the morning but he didn't want to be out in the cool weather like that if he could help it, so it was a very cold shower and then into bed with Lainie who was fast asleep.
He soon joined her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
-
Lainie had intended to be awake when Clay got up but he was out of bed and stirring long before she was. By the time she was up and dressed, he was nowhere to be found. Hearing something in the basement, she started down there, realizing she had never been in the basement of Clay's house.
She descended the steps, noting that the door was open and a small light as visible inside some kind of vehicle just outside. Just as she was starting that way a specter materialized from the outside walking in. A skeletal mass of black, gray and white stalking directly toward her. Struck with fear, she couldn't move for a second. Couldn't breathe.
Finally, she managed to get enough air in her lungs to scream in fear.
“Lainie!” the spectral figure stopped short, hands raised before it. “Lainie, it's me!” One hand moved to lower the skeletal face mask, revealing Clay's face, alarm clearly visible. “Lainie it's okay! It's just a uniform! Look!”
He pulled the mask completely off and removed the black helmet, putting it under his arm so that she could see him clearly.
“You…you ...” she fought to get words out. “You ASSHOLE!” she finally managed, screaming in anger this time. “You scared the hell out of me!” she told everyone in Calhoun county.
“You weren't supposed to be here,” he said defensively. “You were sound asleep when I left you.”
“You were going to leave without telling me, and scared the shit out of me?” she fumed.
“That was your fault, really,” he tried to sound reasonable but failed. At least so far as she was concerned.
“My fault?!” There was a cross between fury and incredulity in her voice. “My fault?”
“Well I don't mean blame, of course,” he hastily corrected himself. “Just that I was getting ready to leave and you happened down here. I didn't intend to scare you at all. Didn't realize you were there. I was coming to turn out the light and close the door.”
She was trembling now, adrenaline coursing through her at the fright she had been given. He slowly and carefully approached her, setting his helmet aside and removing his skeletal gloves.
“So, is this what you mean by skull and bones?” she asked, voice shaky.
“Yes,” he nodded. The black and gray BDU outfit with the gloves and face mask and the empty eye sockets painted on the otherwise black helmet were meant to be terrifying. They were also meant to hide his identity.
“You know, in any other setting that would be kind of sexy,” she admitted, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. She had a sudden picture of him and the others running through the African countryside like this, scaring the hell out of terrorists and dictators as they went.
“Does that mean you forgive me?” he asked hopefully.
“No!” she replied at once. “I don't!”
“Please?” he asked nicely. “It really wasn't my fault. I was trying to slip out without waking you.”
“For the record,” she informed him, finally getting her equilibrium back, “I do not approve of your 'slipping out' or any derivative thereof. I have abandonment issues. Waking up to find you gone is not cool. Not at all.”
“You know, sometimes I will have work to do,” he warned her.
“I will either go back to sleep or I won't,” she told him. “Either way, I will know where you are. We clear on that Cowboy?” she demanded.
“Clear,” he nodded.
“In that case you're mostly forgiven,” she smiled slightly and kissed him. “Once you're back safe and sound I'll forgive you the rest of the way.”
“No problem,” he assured her. “We're just having a look around.”
“I'm sure that's what Custer said,” Lainie replied tartly.
“Thanks,” Clay's tone was dry. “Now I have to go,” he admitted. “I 'll be back before you know it.”
She watched him take his gear and disappear into the night. The only way she knew where he was was when the lights of the Hummer came on. She went and pulled the door closed herself. As she started back up stairs she realized for the first time that her boyfriend's basement looked like an armory.
-
“Running a little late ain't'cha ell tee?” Nolan asked as he climbed into the back seat. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “A Ma Deuce. Wasn't you giving Big Bear hell about us having stuff?”
“Keeps me in practice,” Clay shrugged as Tandi Maseo clambered into the front. “And I was more worried that you guys had moved all that hardware so far so fast. If you had gotten searched somewhere you'd be in jail.”
“No, we wouldn't,” Nolan snorted. “But that's in the past. Want this beast set up?”
“I thought about it,” Clay admitted as he guided the wide-bodied vehicle back onto the road. “But then decided that so long as we could mount it in a hurry that would be good enough. I really don't think we need it. It's just an abundance of caution. A lot can happen in a week.”
“True,” Nolan agreed. “So, it's masks all the way then?” he asked, pulling his own into place. Tandi's was already on.
“At least to start,” Clay nodded. “I'd rather decide when people know who we are. And I'd say we don't say we're military either. Let them assume it, but that's all.”
“ROE?” Maseo asked, checking his M-4.
“Return fire if fired upon,” Clay replied at once. “Otherwise we play it by ear. Protect any innocents. Especially kids,” he added.
“Right,” both men all but growled. Children being endangered was a sore spot for them all, even now.
It was a short ride to the Interstate. As Clay had expected there were cars abandoned everywhere along the freeway, but no people.
“We're coming to a diner up here, and a service center,” he told them. “People from the highway here may have stayed at the diner for a bit, and may even still be there. It's been a week. People will expect us to 'save' them. We can't. All we can do is check around and see what's happening. One of us is with the Hummer at all times.”
“Roger that,” the two replied in tandem. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into things.
Denver's Service Center looked closed from the road. All the doors were down. Nothing looked broken or vandalized.
Lorrie's Diner had a broken window that had been covered with cardboard and tape, and the door was ajar. As soon as Clay eased into the parking lot, a half-dozen people came streaming form the diner, yelling for help. Maseo picked up the radio mike and activated the PA.
“Stay where you are!” his voice boomed, startling the people. “Do not approach the vehicle or you may be fired upon without further notice. Stay, where, you are,” he
stressed.
The people milled around, yelling but no longer running toward them.
“Mitch, you're on the tub,” Clay said. “Go ahead and mount the fifty. I do not like this. Not at all.”
“Let's just go,” Tandi said. No would ever mistake his statement for fear. It was just his answer to Clay's unease.
“No,” Clay shook his head. “That's Jake Sidell's place,” he pointed to Denver's. “I want to know if he's here. I don't recognize a single one of these people which might mean they are all from out of town. I want to check on things. I should see at least someone I know, and I don't.”
“Fifty's up,” Nolan reported from the gun tub. They would have known even without his report, seeing the startled looks from the people in front of them as they began to creep back.
“Doc, lets see what we see,” Clay ordered, opening the door.
“Roger that, Boss-man,” Maseo was out the other door, rifle at the ready.
“You have to help us!” one burly man yelled. “Aren't you here to help us?”
“I'm sorry, we're not,” Clay told him flatly. There was nothing to be gained by beating around the bush. “I'm here looking for the people that own these businesses.”
“What for?” the man demanded, his eyes darting from Clay to Maseo and back. “And why are you dressed like that?”
“Like what?” Clay asked calmly. “Now what happened to the people that work here?” he asked.
“I don't know,” the man spoke again. “Now you take us out of here!” he demanded and took several steps forward. Steps he took back when Clay calmly fired a three-round burst over his head.
“Mister, don't take this personally, but I don't care anything about taking you anywhere,” Clay told him. “Now I'm gonna go and look for the people I'm here to look for, and you bunch are gonna stay right where you are. See my friend up there?” he jerked a thumb at Nolan, who waved. “You make a move he don't like and he will probably shoot you. So best you stay here while I have a look around, yeah?”
“We been living here,” the one woman in the group declared. “You can't search some place without a warrant.”
“I look like a cop to you, lady?” Clay snorted. He made his way over to the door of the restaurant and eased it open, Maseo watching his back and keeping an eye on Nolan who was watching the small crew in the parking lot.
The smell inside was horrible even through the mask.
“Whiskey Tango Foxtrot!” Maseo exclaimed. “What you been doing in here?” he yelled to the group.
“You shouldn't be going through our things!” the fat man all but screamed, the woman echoing him. The rest looked scared.
“Going in,” Clay said over his shoulder.
“Roger that,” Maseo nodded. “Ready up.”
Clay moved inside. Trash was everywhere. Half eaten food left on plates on nearly every table. Empty cans, some obviously having been opened with a knife or some other instrument.
“None of this was necessary,” Clay said to himself.
“I smell blood,” Maseo whispered.
“Me too,” Clay agreed. “I got a bad feeling about this.”
Thirty seconds later they found 'Doug', behind the partition that separated the dining room from the kitchen entrance and served as a waitress station. He was days dead, a large kitchen knife still sticking out of his back. Clay immediately keyed his GRMS.
“At least one of them may be a killer, Thug,” he said softly.
“Roger that,” came the calm reply. Clay was about to say something else when he heard a moan.
“You hear that?” the two men said to one another at the same time.
“Kitchen,” Maseo pointed his rifle at the kitchen door. Clay led the way into the back room, fearing what they would find.
He was right to.
Amy Mitchell was draped across the stainless-steel prep table, feet and hands pulled tightly down to the legs near the floor, her head hanging off one edge and her hips the other. She was completely naked and it was obvious she had been assaulted more than once.
“Doc,” Clay ordered, but Maseo was already moving. Four quick slashes with his blade freed the woman, moving her to lay flat on the table. She was semi-conscious and could only see the demonic looking face mask dimly at best.
“Ma'am, I'm a medic,” Tandi said calmly. “Please lie still while I check you for injuries, all right? I know you're scared and you have to be hurting. I'm going to do something about your pain, but you have to be calm for me, okay?” He drew an ampule of morphine from his pouch and tore it open.
“Clearing the rest of the building,” Clay said once the ampule of morphine was injected. “Watch your back.”
“I'm good,” Maseo assured him, already checking Mitchell for injuries beginning with her neck. It was the work of another two minutes for Clay to ensure that no one else was in the building, alive or dead. He went back to check on Maseo.
“I don't think she has any broken bones,” Tandi told him. “But she's in bad shape. She needs fluids and she needs. . .she needs a woman and a bath,” he said flatly, his voice tightly controlled.
“I'll get a blanket from the rig,” Clay told him. “We 'll take her to the farm. I don't want to, but she needs help. She's got a daughter somewhere. See if you can get her awake enough to tell us where.”
“Roger that,” Maseo nodded as Clay headed out.
He didn't react to the rifle fire a minute later since he'd been expecting it.
-
“Which one of you wants to live?” Clay asked as he walked back into the parking lot.
“Now you look here...” one man who hadn't spoken as yet started.
“You want to live?” Clay asked, his rifle coming up smoothly as he moved forward. “I want to know who killed that man, and who took part in assaulting that woman,” his voice was hard. “I don't find out who it was, I 'll just kill all of you to make sure I get the guilty party. One minute,” he said flatly.
“I had no part in any of that,” the woman was shaking her head. “I would never-”
“You don't tell me who did it, you're still guilty,” Clay cut her off. “Forty-five seconds.”
“He's bluffing,” the fat man told them. “He can't do anything other than arrest us. And then he 'll have to feed us at least.”
“I told you I'm not a cop,” Clay's declaration wiped the smugness off Fat Man's face. “Thirty seconds.”
“You ain't gonna shoot nobody,” another man scoffed. “Come in here dressed like some kinda pirate, waving a gun ar-”
The gunshot took them all by surprise. The man's speech cut off, a small hole appearing in his forehead as the back of his head splattered the pavement behind him. He seemed to fall in slow motion, mouth still working but no sound coming forth.
“Time's up,” Clay said coldly as he opened fire. Three of the remaining five died where they stood. One made two steps. The woman made five.
“Gimme a blanket, Thug,” Mitch ordered as moved to the rig, changing magazines in his rifle as he went.
“Bad?” Nolan asked as he lowered the item to Clay's outstretched hand.
“Bad,” he confirmed. “I'm taking this to Doc and then I need to check that shop if I can get inside. Keep a sharp eye out. I'll head back to assist Doc as soon as I'm finished.”
“Should wait for back-up, Boss,” Nolan suggested. “No telling what you may find.”
“I doubt I find anything,” Clay admitted. “No way Jake sat here and let this happen. Eyes out,” he ordered.
“Got it,” Nolan was back on watch. Clay returned to the kitchen when Maseo had finished with Amy Mitchell.
“Nothing broken I can find,” he said at once. “She's dehydrated like I said. She needs fluids, but. . .I'm gonna wait and let them do it.” He didn't bother to identify 'them'.
“Amy, can you hear me?” Clay asked her as Maseo took the blanket and began to wrap it around her.
“Hm?” her eyes were glazed from the morphine and s
he was feeling okay at the moment.
“Amy, where is your daughter?” Clay asked her. “We 'll try and bring her to you but we have to know where she is.”
“No,” her head shook woozily. “Not like 'is,” she managed to drawl.
“Might be best, Boss,” Tandi agreed. “She needs a minute to get clear of this before she takes on her child. Once she's off the high we can check again. If the girl made it this far, she's probably still okay.”
“All right,” Clay nodded. “I'm going to check the service center. Get her into the rig and help Thug stand watch. If the doors are locked I'm not going to try and force entry. I'm looking for a friend. If he ain't there then there's no point in leaving his place vulnerable.”
“Roger that,” Maseo nodded. He slipped an arm beneath Amy Mitchell's back and another behind her knees.
“Got the door,” Clay said simply, leading the way. Maseo followed him, carrying the nearly unconscious woman with ease despite his diminutive size. Clay got him outside and then made his way to the service center. The side and overhead doors were secured. He circled the building carefully, but no windows were broken and the rear doors were secured as well. Realistically that was all he had time to do.
He made his way back to the Hummer at a jog, swirling a finger in the air as a signal to be ready to roll. Maseo climbed in back with the still drugged Mitchell while Nolan remained in the gun tub. Seconds later Clay was behind the wheel.
“RTB,” he told them curtly and then they were moving. Nolan pulled goggles over his eyes and stayed where he was, careful to keep watch behind them.
-
Gordon was the slightest bit alarmed when the black Hummer pulled into his drive, especially since there was a machine gun on top of it. But the rig pulled to a halt and his son waved to him.
“Clay?”
“Dad, get Patricia and have her come to the other farm…to the building we made the loft apartments in,” Clay specified. “We found a mess at Lorrie's. Amy Mitchell has been assaulted horribly. Doc did what he could but. . .she needs a woman right now, Dad,” he finished. “Kaitlin will be there too.”
