911: The Complete Series

by Grace Hamilton

He turned back to his ex-wife. “Maggie, how do we make contact with the train?”

  Maggie coughed again, blood coming out of her mouth. She swiped at it, slapping more blood onto her already soaked shirt.

  “Around my neck,” she whispered.

  Hands shaking, Sara reached out and gently removed a steel beaded necklace from around her mother’s neck. It was identical to the chain soldiers carried their dog tags on. Maggie flinched and moaned even at the slight touch required to remove it.

  “They stop for fifteen minutes at the coordinates stamped on the back of those tags. There’s a second supply train heading north at the same time, and they have to switch tracks. The train is half a mile long, and security around it have gotten lazy. There’s a slight bend in the line around a wooded hill that leaves the last five cars out of sight for a brief period.”

  Above them, they heard a muted explosion. Parker’s head came up.

  “They breached the door,” he said. “They’ll find the trapdoor soon enough. We should be good until the smoke clears. After that, they’ll blow it.”

  Behind him, Finn frantically filled the four day-packs she’d grabbed as Ava methodically filled M4 magazines with .223 civilian ball ammo.

  “There’ll be a brakeman on the north side. He’s Canadian intelligence, or a cop—something. Show him this. The Church has been working as coyotes, ferrying people out a few families at a time.”

  Above them, men shouted and loud footsteps sounded against the ceiling.

  Sara glared at Maggie. “You were getting people out, but you left the people at the Vineyard? You left me?”

  Parker pivoted and pointed his weapon at the trapdoor. “Ava, Finn, wrap it up,” he urged.

  Maggie looked at Sara, her face ashen from shock and blood loss. She was fading right before them.

  “The National Church Council knew the Vineyard was under surveillance. We just didn’t know you were on the inside, or if anyone was on the inside. We had to wait; I’m sorry, baby. I love you so much.” Sara nodded, a numb expression on her face. “I know I didn’t do things right,” Maggie continued. “But Marr was right about all of this.”

  The light went out of her eyes as if someone had flipped a switch. The slackness of her features wasn’t the relaxation of sleep, it was the profound relaxation of death.

  Sara moaned, and Parker was overcome with a sudden hollow feeling.

  “Parker!” Finn hissed. “We have to go! Parker! How the fuck are we supposed to get out of this hole in the ground?”

  He turned toward Finn’s voice. Blinked. Something in his mind, the part that makes you a survivor, changed gears with a clumsy but powerful clunk, like clockwork machinery starting up after sitting idle.

  “Call it a symptom of toxic masculinity,” he said. “But I had to have an escape route.” He pointed. “Take that crowbar right there and pry that hatch off the wall.”

  “Escape route?” Ava asked. “Damn, this really is the batcave.”

  “The cabin was built during the Depression and had a coal furnace. Deliveries went down the chute, which opened outside the house. I boarded it up, but we can still get out that way. We crawl up the chute and knock the boards loose while there’s still chaos outside.”

  “What about Mom?” Sara demanded.

  “Baby—” he began.

  “No! Dad, no!” her voice was raw and fierce. “We’re not leaving her here. I won’t leave her here for them to find.”

  Ava and Finn attacked the panel with the crowbar while Parker gently put his arm around Sara. “We won’t leave her for them. I promise,” he said. He nodded to one of his stacks of supplies. “I have ammonium-nitrate-rich fertilizer bags; I’ve got plenty of cleansing powder, diesel, and jerry cans filled with gas. When I set it off, this place will burn hot and it will burn long.”

  “Like a funeral pyre,” Sara said.

  Parker nodded. “It’s the best we can do. It’ll burn clean.”

  Eyes spilling tears, Sara nodded quickly and then wiped them away. Behind them, the metal plate cover popped off and fell to the ground. Gathering himself, Parker walked over and inspected the chute.

  It ran up into the earth at a forty-five-degree angle; coal dust so old it had turned gray spilled over the edge of the lip and across the basement floor at his feet. Cobwebs clung in thick curtains at the corners of the chute.

  “Couldn’t have swept it out before you boarded it up?” Ava asked him.

  Stepping forward, Parker waved the still warm barrel of his M4 through the mess. Webs clung to the barrel, encircling it like cotton candy. Spiders the size of his thumbnail scurried out of the opening, and everyone took an unconscious step back. Bending down, he looked up the chute, seeing the lesser areas of dark where the wood he’d used to board up the opening had separated with age. He could make out moonlight peeking through the cracks lighting up the clog of dense spider webs, making it a thoroughly unappealing escape route, but it was what they had.

  “I’m not squeamish,” Ava said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Finn told her, shuddering.

  “I was,” Ava replied, “but you didn’t let me finish; that’s some nasty looking crawl space you got there.”

  Parker eyed the chute. There were only two species of spiders in Indiana capable of inflicting harmful bites to humans. With its dry, dusty interior, the chute was a prime habitat for both the brown recluse and the black widow. Thankfully, neither were particularly aggressive, but a bad bite would slow them down. There were no ERs, no urgent care clinics, and no venom medications in their supplies. A bad infection could slow them down, burn them up with fever, and cause aches in their joints that would make travel very hard. His leg had shown them that much. Combined with severe pain, trouble breathing, and dizziness and nausea, it would reduce anyone’s combat effectiveness. It wasn’t a minor issue, he realized.

  Of course, the other option was instant death.

  “Step back,” he said.

  Grabbing a push broom, he turned it around and stuck it inside the chute and using a side to side motion, quickly brushed out part of the inside of the chute as old coal dust rained down on top of him. Fighting a sneeze, he pulled the broom out.

  Holding the broom up, he was relieved not to see any spiders on it and hoped that was the case farther up the chute. “That’s the best I can do. Whomever goes up first should push the broom ahead of you to brush the remaining cobwebs out of the way and hope not to piss off any spiders.”

  “Let’s go,” Finn urged.

  “Go,” Parker said. “The climb is short and the incline isn’t too bad. You get to the top, listen; if no one is nearby, push through and move quickly. There aren’t any doors or windows on that side of the cabin, so if we’re lucky, there won’t be anyone over there. Use the cover of darkness to your benefit.”

  “Where do we go?” Finn asked.

  “Crawl straight out from the cabin and head immediately into the brush behind the house,” he said. “You’ll go down a hill and into a hardwood marsh behind the house. I’ll meet you there.”

  “What are you going to be doing?” Ava demanded.

  “Yeah,” Sara echoed.

  It almost made him choke up to see the concern on his daughter’s face, to hear it in her voice. It filled him with energy, and with a renewed sense of purpose. He smiled, gesturing toward his supplies.

  “I’m not letting those fuckers get my stuff; I’m leaving them a little surprise. I’ll be right behind you; now, go.”

  All three of them hesitated, unsure about what came next. “Go!” he urged them again.

  As he began preparing his surprise, they each grabbed a pack and, holding it in front of them, slipped one by one up the chute until he was alone in the room. Working quickly, he ripped open the tops on several containers of lawn fertilizer and laundry soap. Pouring them together, he up-ended two liter bottles of engine oil and then five gallons of diesel, followed by ten gallons of regular gas. The fumes made him dizzy.

/>   He knew his proportions were way off for any kind of explosion of real impact. However, the whole noxious mess would burn and smoke like mad. He plucked a nylon climbing rope off a wall mount and threw it on the ground, and then he took the last jerry can and dumped it over the rope until it was soaked.

  He left one end on the floor and ran the other through a loop in his pants before he tied it off with a quick, easily undone, square knot. He kept himself from looking as the spilling lake of noxious flammable liquids reached Maggie and began soaking into her clothes. Soaking into her hair.

  He grabbed the pack Finn had left for him, paused for a moment before the chute, and then turned back around. She looked peaceful enough in repose, he decided. But she didn’t look like she was sleeping.

  “I’m still mad,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m still mad as hell, but I know you think you did what you did out of love for Sara, no matter how fucked up it got.” He cleared his throat. “I’m still angry as hell, Maggie, but I’m sorry.”

  Then he turned and climbed up the chute.

  24

  Parker began inching his way upwards. His pant leg caught on a jagged section of welding residue and he jerked his leg to clear it, ripping his pants in the process. It was a close, fetid journey, and when he reached the end, he twisted his body, pinning his hips and knees against the side of the chute to complete knocking bits of wood from the opening. The girls had managed to knock most of it off, but given his larger size, he needed more room to get out. He worried about the flash having attracted attention and hoped that, in all the chaos, no one had noticed. No matter what, without back-up, he knew he was vulnerable when he emerged, and only felt thankful that the sun had long set.

  Pushing his pack out ahead of him, he came out into a world of confusion and noise. The smoke from the grenades had dissipated, but combined with the shoot-out, the smell and taste ran acrid in his throat, coating the inside of his mouth.

  Reaching into his pocket for the meth lighter, he pulled the nylon rope free from his pants. Lighting the rope, he watched as it began to burn, the flame creeping slowly along the rope line. Holding it high, he stepped directly to the opening of the chute and dropped the burning rope back down into the cellar, whispering a quick prayer that this would work—but he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. He began crawling forward through the brush behind the cabin, his rifle resting in the crook of his arms. Around front, he heard men shouting, urging subordinates on with orders and reporting updates to superiors. Pulling himself up tight against the Black Walnut tree that had once been home to a tire swing for Sara, he held his breath and waited as three men pounded by him at a jog only a few feet away.

  The skin of his elbows and knees was gone by the time he made it to the edge of the brush line and slipped into the trees. Trying to remain quiet, he crab-walked over the decline and scrambled down.

  Below him, a man shouted, angry and surprised, and Parker heard three M4s fire in their distinctive, high, sharp, cracks. He pushed himself forward, quickly. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable voice of Spencer shouting orders in response to the gunfire. What the hell was he doing here? He was a warden in New Albany.

  At the bottom of the little rise he’d traversed, the ground immediately became softer and wetter as he entered the river bottom. He heard a noise and looked over. A soldier crouched over the body of a second man in uniform. That man gasped, holding his hands over several wounds.

  Before Parker or the soldier could react, three muzzle flashes erupted out of the dark and the crouching soldier went down, too, jerking under a multitude of impacts. Above them, someone opened fire with an M249, spraying bullets over their heads.

  “Parker, run!” Finn shouted.

  Sprinting forward, he caught a flash of movement and realized the girls were splitting apart, so he veered off as men began spilling down the hill behind him. We can’t outrun them, he thought.

  “Get down!” he called to them. “Fire on my command!”

  Parker pushed his back up against a tree, breathing hard. His leg ached, and he felt the duct tape pulling at the skin of his leg; he wished that they’d had the time to put in stitches as he imagined the ugliness of the scar that would eventually result from the wound, assuming he survived. Behind him, he heard Spencer shouting commands.

  “Spread out!” the man shouted. “Wedge formation; advance at an even pace.”

  In response, Parker rolled onto his stomach, swinging the muzzle of his assault rifle around the tree. We’re in it now, he thought, suddenly wishing for some of Eli’s sage advice.

  In the uncertain light, he saw the point man for the patrol was almost directly over Finn’s position. Time slowed for Parker as he swung his sights onto his target. Then he yelled, “Fire!” and, abruptly, his senses were on fast forward. He squeezed his trigger and killed the man over Finn, and the entire group opened up. The first five men in the patrol went down. Out beyond the first squad, a four-man fire team swept toward them, and the firefight broke out in a chaotic free-for-all.

  Ava unleashed the M249 she’d taken from the first soldier, running a long blast that Finn’s shotgun punctuated with booming emphasis. Parker saw men shudder and fall as bark exploded off of trees and branches tore loose under the fusillade.

  The M249 light machine gun had a signature sound as distinct as the .12 gauge, and it drew the soldiers’ attention. Parker, armed with the distinctive M4, got up and began maneuvering through the thick bush of the hardwood swamp. Ahead of him, three figures silhouetted themselves.

  Automatically, he went to a knee as he snugged the stock of his weapon into his shoulder and took a bead on one of the men. His target broke right and simultaneously the other two cut left. He led his first target a little and then opened fire, letting the charging man race into his bullets. The soldier flopped into the dark vegetation and Parker swung his weapon around to engage the other two.

  Instead of going to ground and returning fire, however, the pair slipped into a stand of pines, momentarily disappearing from sight. Panting from exertion, Parker moved forward, looking for clear targets. The girls continued firing, and the woods on the Council side was alive with muzzle flashes.

  The soldiers were fully inside the perimeter of their hasty ambush now, figures swirling around in the chaos. Moving toward the last position where he’d seen Finn and Ava, Parker shot a tall, bulky figure charging through the brush from less than twenty meters off. The figure went down.

  A branch snapped close enough behind him to be heard over the gunfire and Parker turned. One of the two men he’d seen before ran toward him, weapon up, obviously night-blind from muzzle flashes and not seeing Parker’s exact location. A shaft of moonlight breaking through the branches as Parker rolled to his back illuminated the figure’s face for a moment, the man’s eyes showing white. Parker thrust the barrel of his carbine toward him like a spear and fired a three-round burst that swept the soldier away into the vegetation.

  The second man appeared and turned toward the report of Parker’s weapon. Startled by the man’s appearance in such close proximity, Parker tried swinging his M4 around. The man was close enough that Parker caught the smell of cigarettes on his clothes and breath. The soldier instinctively snatched Parker’s barrel as it came around, screaming as his flesh came into contact with the hot metal.

  The man stepped forward then, throwing a shoulder into the already off-balance Parker and knocking him to the ground. He landed awkwardly, rifle trapped beneath him. Wrestling with the weapon, he felt more than saw the man drawing a bead on him.

  Directly over Parker’s head, a shotgun fired, the muzzle blast illuminating the little patch of woods around them. The soldier aiming at Parker went down, his weapon going off as he fell. Finn screamed out and fell next to him. Parker, finally freeing his weapon, shot the prone body of the soldier again.

  Coming to his knees, weapon in hands, Parker looked around for another target, but there weren’t any. Not thinking, he reached d
own and grabbed Finn by the arm. Hauling her to her feet, he wrapped his arm around her waist and began moving. The clouds parted and silver shafts of moonlight penetrated the broken canopy, illuminating the killing ground in a glowing, surreal light that was almost cinematic. His ears ringing, he saw Sara, only a couple of yards from him, firing a coup de grace into a gut-shot soldier only steps in front of her. He blinked, and the scene shifted like a stereoscopic 3-D photo in one of those old ViewFinder toys he’d played with as a kid. Ava was up on one knee, the M249 to her shoulder, firing back and forth with wild sweeps of her weapon, putting out a wall of lead.

  Parker took two more steps, all but dragging Finn with him, and a bullet slammed into his hip, knocking them both down. His body was numb; he knew he’d been hit, but not yet how badly. He popped up to his feet, leaving Finn down, adrenaline and instinct controlling him like a marionette on strings. He blinked, and the scene shifted in the same hypnotic, disassociated way it had before.

  His muzzle found targets of its own volition; his finger worked the trigger without conscious input. He heard someone shouting in rage, blinked, and realized it was himself. He saw two men come out from beneath a huge tamarack growing at a canted angle, busting through a wall of thick tag elder to appear next to Ava. Sara, turning, shot one even as the second shot her, slamming into her shoulder. Parker fired a moment later and the man dropped.

  Bullets whizzed through the air around him, cracking into tree trunks, burrowing into the peaty soil and snapping branches.

  In that moment, a loud explosion came from the direction of the cabin and Parker figured the fire had finally reached the ammo he had stored in the basement. The ensuing shouts for help had any remaining able-bodied soldiers near them running toward the mayhem instead of at them.

  Parker looked down at Finn, and suddenly the pain of his wound slammed through him and he staggered. Pulling up his shirt, he saw that the 5.56 mm bullet, a round infamous for its tumbling effect in the body, had penetrated from the front, bounced off his hip staying near the surface of his skin and gouging out a trench-like trail around his body before exiting out the back.