“There’s gotta be something we can do for our friends. Type up an email, make a phone call... send em a friggin’ carrier pigeon, I don’t know,” Dallas said exacerbated.
Josh straightened ever so slightly at the suggestion. Enough so that the other two noticed.
Dallas cocked a weary eyebrow at his old friend. “Do tell,” he said with a smirk.
“Grab Gregg and meet me in my office,” Josh said quickly as he stepped off his porch leaving the other two behind.
The pair watched as Josh reflexively looked left and right, slid the barn door open, and then quickly entered and closed it.
“That is one strange duck, but I love him,” Dallas added.
“How do you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?” he replied.
“How do you innocently plant barely the whisper of an idea in his head, and then make that man your marionette?”
“Years of practice. We do it to each other actually. He got me with his portable sawmill just the other day. Katherine’s the same way.”
“What do you mean?”
“She is her father’s daughter. I knew as soon as we lit that bonfire she’d get a spark from one of her sisters. It was the fastest exit plan off that freezing mountain,” he replied more thoroughly.
“So you guys threw it just to get out of the cold?” Sam responded indignantly.
“Hell no!” Dallas remarked incredulously. “Someone was going to lose that war game, but that little girl out foxed the foxes. I never would have guessed she had night vision goggles in her pack.”
“So why didn’t you inspect their packs?”
“Arrogance,” Dallas replied bluntly.
“Serves you right.”
Dallas grunted.
“And just so you know, I gave them those as Christmas presents.”
“You bitch,” Dallas said playfully.
“And don’t you forget it,” she retorted.
* * *
Gregg and Dallas quickly entered the office and immediately closed the door behind them. As they approached, Josh was finishing a conversation with someone on the walkie.
“What was that all about?” Dallas asked.
“Oh, I sent Juan and a few of our new residents on some errands. They were reporting in is all,” Josh replied breezily.
“Bull,” Dallas said to his friend. “Double bull. I’ve had enough with the compartmentalization, secrets, and clandestine planning. Spill it.”
Gregg stood and watched the two men stare each other down. Josh blinked first.
“Damn it. I hate it when you give me the stink eye. Fine,” Josh reluctantly said.
Dallas removed the map he swiped off of the dining room table from his back pocket and unfolded it on the workbench. “Where?”
Josh sighed as he explained, “I have Brent and Emily using the quad-copter to survey the washed out trestle and the tunnel. They are here,” he said as he pointed. “Don’t worry, Gregg. It’s an in-and-out deal. Abelardo is providing an over watch as we withdraw from the farm. He’s here. Jesus is up the road from the turn out by Lake Hope waiting on us. Their father is sitting on top of the Moonville Tunnel with a three hundred and sixty degree field of view. Happy?”
“And James? I haven’t seen him in sometime and the rifle is missing from the barn. I checked.”
“Bus-ted,” Gregg mumbled under his breath.
“I’m playing a hunch,” Josh answered.
“And that has him in the woods playing with the .50? Start talking or so help me...” Dallas threatened.
“Calm down, all right. He’s covering the eastern access to the tunnel. Hoplite’s comment got me to thinking so I made some calls. The old rail line is now the Moonville Rail Trail. It was turned into a nice wide gravel hiking path a few years ago. If we have to find another way in, that’s the only other route.”
“Okay, but why?”
“Because I think the Army is going to send us overkill. We asked for two pieces of bridging equipment and a platoon. They’ll probably send double because of the players involved… maybe,” his friend replied.
“And?” Dallas asked.
Josh groaned at all of his planning being dragged out of him.
“And I believe that whoever trailed this convoy from Denver is still out there. It’s weird and I can’t explain it. I just feel like we are being watched. That’s why Abelardo is watching the farm and not spotting with his brother. Happy?”
“Now I am. Was that so hard?” Dallas said chastising Josh.
“I didn’t tell you ya jerk because I was going to surprise you with the gift of finally being able to ride into battle. I swear. You and Amanda always ruined every surprise I ever tried to give you.”
“Hey! Don’t lump me in with that psychotic witch! I told you there was something off about that girl from the start, remember?”
“Do I need to be here for this?” Gregg chimed in, disrupting the back and forth exchange. The two men stopped their bickering and turned to look at him.
Josh stood up, lifted the roll top on the side desk, and exposed the Ham radio.
“I thought you guys might like to reach out and check on family, start setting up comm times, channels, frequencies, and what not. We’ve got a few hours to kill. See if you can’t find some people willing to help that are near Troy or Boone. Maybe you can get loved ones some sort of warning. If the operators you reach are willing to listen, try to get them to understand what’s possibly coming. If they want to salvage their equipment, tell them they need to build a Faraday cage to store their gear in. Warn as many people as possible. First though, I’d like Dallas to try and contact some of his duck hunting buddies down in Beaufort, near Lejeune. Maybe they can shed some light on any impending doom from the sea.”
“And then?” Gregg asked.
“Then we wait,” Josh replied. “We’ll wait for the Calvary at the tunnel. Then we’ll wait a little more for Abbas to either get shot or complete his mission. If he’s dead, we all go home, but if he succeeds, we’ll wait for it all to come apart and try and put it back together again.”
Chapter 23
The last of the cargo-laden trucks had barely exited through the pasture gate when the rusty Chevy came out of the hidden hillside farm road. Josh’s radio immediately squawked.
“Patrón, you’ve got a visitor,” Abelardo said into the device.
“That was fast. How many?” Josh replied.
“Just the one, Señor.”
“Description?”
“It’s old man Wrigley’s truck… but he’s not driving.”
“Who is?” Josh asked.
“I have no idea, but he’s alone and wearing a white sheet or something,” Abelardo provided.
“Stay there for another fifteen minutes then go check on the Wrigley’s. Radio in anything you find.”
“Roger that.”
The fear for what the boy might discover when he got to the worn down farmhouse weighed heavily on Josh. If these were the same people that had no compunction about bringing down aircraft, there wasn’t much hope for old man Wrigley and his wife. Better he see these monsters for who they really are now instead of in the field when it matters.
Josh turned to Dallas and said, “You ready?”
Dallas gave a quick nod and gripped the Secret Service sniper rifle he pinched from the back of their SUV. Josh leaned forward and tore off the one-foot square canvas cutout from the back flap of the deuce and a half.
“What do you see?” Josh asked calmly.
“Nothing so far... oh, wait. He just came around the bend,” Dallas replied.
“Is he gaining on us?”
“Nope. He seems content to follow at a safe distance.”
“Anything in his hand like a dead man switch? Is he wearing a vest of any kind? Any weapons visible?” Josh wanted to know trying rule out various scenarios and possibilities. If he didn’t know what he was up against then he couldn’t adequately plan and execute.
> “Can’t tell about the vest. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he’s got a martyrs outfit on though. He probably bathed himself in the stream this morning. If he’s a suicide then the truck is most likely rigged too,” Dallas answered.
“Can you see his hands yet?” Gregg asked repeating Josh’s initial question.
“No joy. They’re below the dash,” Dallas replied.
“Okay. Hop up. Let Gregg have a look,” Josh said as more of a request than a command.
The two men quickly switched places. Gregg adjusted the knobs slightly for his eyes until the driver came into focus. The man in the trailing vehicle kept a healthy distance as the convoy rambled through the winding forest laden road. The constantly changing contour of the road made it impossible for Gregg to get a good look at the driver for several minutes.
At the first opportunity to lay eyes on their pursuer, Gregg immediately recognized the man. “Well what do ya know! It is a small world after all. Hello there, Mahtab,” Gregg said. “Do we have permission to shoot these guys?”
“You know him?” Dallas asked amazed.
“Ever been boot stomped by a bunch of angry Arabs?” Gregg asked back.
Dallas chuckled and retorted, “Can’t say I’ve had that pleasure.”
Josh could see that he was about to start ribbing the man when Josh raised his shirt, flashed him his own scars, and nodded in the direction of Gregg. Dallas immediately realized his mistake.
“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know. Who is this guy to you? One of the interrogators?” Dallas asked.
“Just a minion,” Gregg started to say before the radio squawked and cut him off.
“Patrón! Patrón! Come in Patrón!” Abelardo yelled into the walkie.
“Oh crap,” Dallas said under his breath.
“Calm down. Go slow. What did you find?” Josh replied.
“They’re all dead, Patrón! They killed old man Wrigley! It’s a bloodbath over here!” Abelardo said panicked.
“Breathe, Abelardo. Just breathe. Check the entire house. Look in every room and closet. How many are there?” Josh answered in soothing tone.
“I count four.”
“Do you recognize them?”
“Yes,” he said through his tears. “It’s Mr. and Mrs. Wrigley, their grandson, and his wife.”
They just had a baby!
“Find the baby, Abelardo! Call me back when you find the baby! Go! Now!” Josh commanded.
Dejected, Josh looked down at Gregg who was staring at him. Without warning, Josh stood up and pulled the entire cover out of Gregg’s line of sight.
“Stand up!” Josh ordered. “I want that son-of-a-bitch to know who is about to blow his damn head off!”
Gregg smirked and handed the rifle to Dallas. He grabbed the metal tube frame and leaned his upper body out so the driver could get a good look.
Mahtab rounded the bend to see that his distance had not increased. The road began to straighten out and exit the forest. He shifted gears to speed up and keep pace with the convoy as it made its way through the open farm country. When he looked up he saw a man hanging out of the truck waving. He squinted in the sunlight to look more closely.
“By Allah! Mr. Chastain,” he said to himself.
Mahtab began grabbing for the walkie, but it slid out of reach on the ever-curving road. He needed to alert Suhrab that the convoy was a trap. When he leaned further, Dallas put a round through his windshield as a warning. The old windscreen crackled and shattered on impact. Thousands of pieces of glass filled the cab of the truck as the window collapsed in on him.
Mahtab down shifted and floored the accelerator. Between shifts of the gear stick, he reached inside his garment and armed his explosives.
“Suicide vest!” Dallas called out as he watched the driver’s every move through the rifle’s scope.
“Here he comes, Gregg!” Josh yelled over the wind.
Gregg quickly re-entered the cargo hold and took his seat. Dallas handed him the rifle even before he was situated.
“I’ve already chambered the next round!” Dallas informed him.
“One hundred yards,” Josh said as he called out the distance.
Gregg took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Focus, shut out the noise. His thoughts immediately flashed to the torture. His mind always did. Gregg needed to summon the anger, the hatred. He needed to access all of it.
Gregg began tallying the abuse. One punch, head shot, kick to the gut.
“Seventy five yards!”
Lashings, brandings, tasers, and waterboards.
“Fifty yards! Any time you’re ready, soldier!” Josh barked.
Chair to the ribs.
“Thirty yards!”
Broken fingers and knife wounds. Miscarriage, hysterectomy, and the video. There it is. The video.
Gregg exhaled and opened his eyes.
“No virgins for you, Mahtab,” he said, pulled the trigger, and unleashed hell.
No sooner did Gregg see the leaking brain matter explode from the back of his head through the scope as Mahtab’s fresh corpse released the dead man’s switch. The truck exploded into a fireball. The hood peeled off from its hinges and flew over the cab.
Josh and the other two men could feel the heat and the shockwave from the blast. The concussion of the explosion turned the wheels sending the vehicle headlong into the roadside drainage ditch. They watched as the rolling inferno flipped over several times until it eventually came to rest on its roof.
The smoldering metal frame continued to cook as the ever-progressing convoy put more distance between them. No one bothered to call in on the walkie and ask what happened. Everyone heard the exchange. Josh hadn’t realized it, but he had depressed the transmit button during the entire engagement. When he caught the error, he stopped transmitting and stowed the device. Things just got real.
The men and the convoy lumbered along in silence for some time before someone clicked in to alert Josh to change channels. Slowly and reluctantly he changed the channel.
“Yeah, this is Josh,” he said disheartened at losing even a single life, let alone a family of four.
“Thought you’d like to know that ‘Red Route One’ is open if needed,” James replied.
Amazed, Josh said, “The whole thing? The entire way?”
“That’s affirmative. It would seem that the forestry service has been busy around these parts,” the big man responded.
“Thanks. Switching back,” his friend answered.
Josh quickly changed channels and found Abelardo calling in frantically.
“Come in, Señor!” the young man said sounding destitute.
“I’m here,” Josh replied.
“I got the baby!” Abelardo whispered excitedly.
“Excellent! Why are you whispering?”
“He’s asleep in his crib. I don’t want to wake him up,” Abelardo answered again in a hush voice.
“Find the car seat and take him back to the cabin. Have him checked out by your mother,” Josh directed.
“I didn’t drive. Why do I need that?” he asked.
“It’ll make it easier to carry,” Josh answered.
Josh was still thinking through alternatives for Abelardo when the young man added, “Shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“Why’s that?” Josh asked inquisitively.
“I’m looking through the bedroom window now. The car seat, diapers, and luggage are lying in the driveway.”
Josh’s face flashed hot. That baby didn’t get there in a farm truck. Where’s the grandson’s car?
“Get that kid to your mother and have it checked out, NOW!” Josh commanded with a sense of urgency. He then barked into the walkie, “Stop the convoy!”
* * *
Jesus was reaching in his bag for the trail mix when a car began approaching the crossroads. He stopped his search for the snack and picked up his binoculars. The car quickly pulled off onto the side of the road, but then sat there. What’s he doing?
The older of the two Martinez sons watched as the driver exited the vehicle, popped the trunk, and removed a jack and lug wrench.
What the hell?
The man jacked up the car, took a rear tire off, and leaned it against the quarter panel. To anyone passing by, it would just look like another disabled car on the side of the road.
The man looked up and down the roadway for any other cars, but there weren’t any. He quickly lifted the half open trunk all the way up and grabbed a bag and a rifle. Jesus watched in disbelief as he slung the pack over his shoulder and darted up the hillside into the woods.
You’ve got to be kidding me. I’ve gotta call this in.
Jesus clicked in on channel three like Josh had told him and immediately changed channels. He waited the prearranged sixty seconds for a reply. When none came, he switched back and tried again. Still no reply.
He quickly and quietly repacked his bag and started trailing the unknown man through the underbrush of the forest. To Jesus, it wasn’t all that dissimilar to tracking game. Whoever he was following was bounding through the woods without care. In their effort to get wherever they were going quickly, the man was stepping on practically every fallen branch in his path. Whatever wasn’t stepped on was broken off the limb. A blind man could follow this guy, Jesus thought. Just when he was starting to become worried that the trespasser had gotten wise and started taking more care, Jesus would find where he slid down the hillside. The clumsy idiot took chunks of earth and piles of debris down the hill with him.
Jesus silently trailed the fool over ridges and through valleys for nearly forty-five minutes. When he belly crawled his way to the latest ridge and peered over with his rifle scope, he spotted the man sitting on a rocky outcropping casually eating a sandwich. Every couple of minutes, he would pick up a handset and stare at it like he was waiting for a call.
“Who or what are you waiting for?” Jesus said to himself as he watched.
* * *
Hannibal is at the Gates Page 23
