Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds

by Joe Nobody

  Terri reached across the truck cab, gently resting her hand on his arm. “I appreciate that. It means a lot to me. But, the truth is that neither of us has control over our destiny at the moment. That’s probably the most frustrating thing about life after the downfall. Before, we had more control… more of an influence in the direction our lives would take. Now, it seems like we’re not steering our ship at all. Like the ocean’s currents are taking us wherever they wish and we have to go along.”

  Bishop had seen examples of Terri’s current perspective before. Lately, it was a common topic of discussion amongst Diana and the Alliance’s leadership and a growing trend in the communities they served. When there was no hope, when empty stomachs and midnight raiders occupied the mind, thoughts of a future and a better quality of life were easily dismissed. While hope had always been an ingredient in the recipe of survival, drastic circumstances led most people to limit the importance of optimism.

  Obviously, Terri was yearning for more than just the basic hierarchy of needs. Bishop had to admit, he had felt flashes of the same desires.

  After visiting their old home, he’d experienced his own flashbacks to their pre-collapse existence. The spare bedroom that held his gym equipment reminded the Texan of a convenience no longer available in their lives. As Terri had stared longingly at the stove, oven, and dishwasher, Bishop’s attention had been drawn to his garage workshop, reloading bench, and gunsmithing tools. While their motivators may have been different, the resulting sense of emptiness was the same.

  It was just as he had feared before they had left Alpha. An easy prediction of the problems associated with visiting the past. Yet, Bishop felt no desire to say, “I told you so.”

  What Terri and he were experiencing was bound to occur sooner or later. What frustrated the Texan most was the fact that he could provide no solution to his wife’s discomfort. He hated seeing Terri troubled by anything.

  Arriving at the temporary bungalow assigned to the couple by the Alliance didn’t help the melancholy atmosphere that still dominated the mood in the pickup.

  Sure, it’s a shelter, Bishop considered, looking at the structure in an entirely new light. There is a roof, some walls, and a relatively safe place to fall asleep. Why does it look so hollow to me now?

  It was temporary. Like a hotel room on an extended journey.

  For a moment, Bishop felt the stirring of embarrassment over his thoughts. Not so many months ago, they would have given much to have such a comfortable residence. The claustrophobic environment of the camper and its aluminum walls was not yet a distant memory. They had electricity… running, drinkable, water… and police cars cruising the streets keeping the bad guys at bay.

  For a second, Bishop felt like a spoiled brat, whining and unhappy with the plethora of toys just received on Christmas morning because the gifts hadn’t satisfied every little need. “I’m not content where we are,” he finally said, “but, I don’t think we should lose sight of how far we’ve come.”

  Terri didn’t immediately respond, her head tilting slightly with consideration. “I know, I know. I’m coming across like a rotten little princess. You probably think nothing will ever make me happy.”

  “Not true!” Bishop replied honestly. “The minute we lose the desire to better ourselves is when we stop being truly alive. All that I am saying is that it’s been a rough couple of days, and we shouldn’t forget that we’re gaining ground.”

  Nodding her understanding, Terri moved closer to her husband, pouting her lips for a kiss. She paused, looking at him with admiration in her eyes. “Promise me you won’t let that happen,” she whispered.

  Bishop’s answer and kiss were interrupted by the thunderous thunder of several helicopters roaring overhead. The Texan stood puzzled, watching as the birds rushed north, quickly disappearing over the horizon.

  “Something’s going on,” he said, catching a last glimpse of the military machines. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  The parking lot surrounding the school was a sea of red and blue flashing lights, an army of ant-like figures rushing here and there.

  Nick sat on the edge of the helicopter’s bay, his eyes taking it all in as rage boiled in his soul. He should have been there… should have overridden Diana’s protests about his healing and been at her side.

  Two deputies were working hard to keep the football field clear as the three Blackhawks roared over the massive rescue effort. The warbird’s wheels were still four feet off the turf when the big man jumped and rolled, regaining his feet quickly and moving toward the campus without pause.

  As the flight landed, two squads of fully loaded assault troops poured out onto the grass, their NCO’s shouting orders as boots were hitting the ground.

  Hustling to catch up, the officer in charge listened as Nick began barking his own series of commands, “Find her. That is the top priority. Find Diana and get her back to Fort Bliss. Do it. Right fucking now!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Please, Diana, hang in there. Just a few minutes more. I’m coming. I’m so sorry… so very sorry, Nick thought as he quickly crossed into the main parking lot.

  He noted the troops spreading out, a local deputy pointing a sergeant in the direction where the wounded were being triaged.

  Nick came into a mass of confusion – firemen, EMTs, law enforcement, and medical personnel rushing everywhere. There were rows of bodies lying along one wall of the gymnasium, each covered with a white bedsheet. Many were soaked through with red and purple splotches of blood. The fact that some of his men were among the casualties fueled his fury even more.

  After passing the rows of dead, Nick spied a large group of people sitting on the ground. Nearby were several uniformed deputies, apparently interviewing the survivors. Someone had set up a series of folding tables, the surfaces covered with stacks of handguns.

  Then a sergeant was beside him, “Sir! We’ve located Miss Brown. This way, sir.”

  The two men jogged off, approaching what was obviously the triage area for the wounded. Nick was stunned at the number of people lying scattered here and there. This is like the aftermath of a major battle, he thought. What the hell happened here?

  Spotting Diana was easy, her prone form now surrounded by several riflemen. The squad’s two medics were unfolding a stretcher.

  “She looks worse than her true condition, sir,” the sergeant warned. “According to the docs, she’s in no danger.”

  Despite the warning, Nick's heart stopped when his fiancé came into view.

  She was literally covered in blood, a thick, soaked bandage wrapped around her head. He was beside her in an instant.

  “I’m here,” he said in a hush as her eyes focused. “You’re going to be okay.”

  It was a tremendous relief when a slight smile crossed her lips. “Some men will use any excuse to get out of the house,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. We’re going to take you back to Fort Bliss. There is a trauma team on standby,” Nick announced, squeezing her hand.

  “I’m okay… really, it’s just a scratch,” she replied, trying to rise.

  “Relax and stay down. That’s an order,” he grinned. “Besides, I don’t care how minor the wound is, I want you taken care of by the best.”

  “No,” she protested, finally managing to sit. “There are a lot of people here hurt far worse than I am. Take them if you can. They need the help a lot more than I do.”

  A ruckus with one of the infantrymen interrupted the conversation, the soldier following orders and blocking a man who was trying to approach Diana.

  “I’m a doctor,” the fellow protested. “Please, let me through.”

  Nick looked the man up and down and then nodded to the sentry. “It’s okay. Let him pass.”

  “I understand you’ve got helicopters waiting to medevac the wounded?” began the physician.

  “I came here to take Diana back to Fort Bliss,” Nick responded wi
th a frown. “We can take another as well.”

  Shaking his head, the physician glanced at Miss Brown, “She’s fine. Really, it’s just a flesh wound and potential concussion. I’ve got several patients who are going to die unless we can get them better care than I can provide here.”

  Nick started to dismiss the request, but Diana’s hand on his arm stopped the rejection. “Nick… let the critical people use the copters. Please. I’m okay… really, I am.”

  The big man pondered her words. As always, his decision came quickly. “Okay. I’m outnumbered. Doctor, pick three of your most critical, and the sergeant will help you get them loaded.”

  After a quick exchange, the doc and NCO were off to load the patients. Nick remained, his mind now working on the next set of problems.

  Taking a knee, he asked Diana, “What happened here? A deputy in Alpha received a radio transmission that there had been a riot and that gunfire had erupted. According to the report, there had been an assassination attempt on your life.”

  “I filed that report,” a voice stated.

  Nick looked up to see a senior deputy approaching. After the two men had shaken hands, the lawman said, “Please come with me, sir. I think you’ll be interested in seeing this.”

  On the way inside the gym, the officer reported on the events leading up to the riot. Inside, they came upon a scene of utter chaos. Shoes, pools of blood, scraps of clothing, and debris were scattered everywhere. A dozen policemen were roaming the area, looking for evidence and clues.

  Nick’s escort pointed to the corner where three of Diana’s security team were lying in the twisted positions of death. One deputy was taking pictures while another outlined the virtual carpet of shell casings.

  Recognizing his dead men, Nick’s anger returned, the ex-Special Forces Operator barely controlling his emotions. “Explain it to me,” he grumbled.

  The deputy replied, “Given the number of dead and wounded, we might have missed this, but one of Miss Brown’s protection detail survived long enough to warn the responding officers of the crime. After receiving medical attention, she confirmed his story and filled in a few more details.”

  “Where is that man?”

  “He didn’t make it, sir.”

  “Fuck!”

  The lawman then walked a few steps and pointed at a pair of dead men lying nearby. “These two were the assassins. They carried no identification and were armed with fully automatic MP5 weapons which had all identifying serial numbers filed down. I’m no expert, but I would say they were professionals.”

  Nick walked over to gain a better view of the two hitmen and then shook his head. “I’ve never seen either one of them before.”

  “There’s more, sir,” the officer continued. “Several people described a man in a suit and tie who verbally attacked Miss Brown during the meeting. Yet, we can’t find that individual. It’s as if he vanished into thin air. I have one witness who claims she saw him getting into a white van with three other men. According to this very shaken woman, the van had Oklahoma plates.”

  With a frown, Nick digested the deputy’s report. Finally nodding, he said, “Thank you, officer. You’ve done an excellent job. I’ll put in a good word with Sheriff Watts.”

  “Thank you, sir. But there’s one more thing you should know.”

  “Go on.”

  The lawman hesitated for a brief pause and then the words spilled out. “The second shooter… the closer one… Miss Brown killed him, sir. We found her with the empty gun in her hand. I don’t think she remembers it just yet, but I thought you should be aware of that.”

  Nick actually chuckled, the thought of Diana killing the son of a bitch elevating his mood. The cop’s expression indicated he didn’t get it.

  “It’s okay, deputy,” Nick explained. “She’s been in more than her share of firefights. That gunman didn’t have a chance.”

  Without another word, Nick pivoted, exiting the gym with a motivated pace. A few moments later, he was again at Diana’s side. “Did you know the guy in the suit or either of the shooters?”

  “No,” she said, her eyes beginning to water.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, worried over her reaction to his question.

  Her body was racked by sobs as she buried her head into his chest. Still puzzled, Nick held her tight until the worst of it had passed. Finally regaining some control, she looked up and said, “I thought it was over. I thought I was dead. I was so… so scared.”

  The weeping returned, Diana’s body shaking as Nick held her close. “You’re braver than anyone else I know,” he whispered. “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

  While he continued to support her, Nick realized he hadn’t seen Bishop or Terri anywhere. He’d been so worried about Diana and his men.

  Embarrassed by the oversight, he looked down at her and said, “Where are Bishop and Terri?”

  “They never made it to the meeting,” she replied. “I hope they’re okay. You don’t think someone was going after all of the Alliance leadership, do you?”

  Nick had already thought of that, dispatching protection to all of the other councilmen and women. “No, I think that you were the only target. Still, something must have gone wrong…. Bishop promised me he’d be here.”

  The county road was bumpy as hell, the blacktop having gone without maintenance since the collapse. None of the occupants in the van seemed to mind.

  Taking the less traveled route had been a necessary precaution as it was less likely that any law enforcement would be traveling the seldom-used roadway.

  “Diana Brown survived,” commented the passenger in the backseat, pulling a radio headset from his ear. “The police are looking for a van with Oklahoma plates and three men inside. Someone must have gotten a look at us.”

  “The boss isn’t going to be pleased,” added the driver, casting a nervous glance at the man in the passenger seat.

  Loosening his tie, the well-spoken gentlemen who’d initiated the entire episode didn’t seem to be concerned. “The boss will be just fine,” he stated. “We accomplished our primary goal. Killing that bitch would have been a bonus, but everyone knew it was a longshot from the start. We did our job, and did it well.”

  They continued on, the mood inside improving when an old road sign stated, “Oklahoma State Line – 2 miles.”

  “Did you see the look on that guy’s face when I threw that chair at him?” asked the man in the backseat.

  “Yes,” replied the driver. “He was almost as shocked as the guy I shot.”

  “I missed all the fun,” responded Mr. Suit-and-Tie. “On the next job, one of you two clowns has to play the respectable role and let me enjoy a little incitement.”

  Sheriff Watts eagerly scanned the initial reports coming out of Amarillo, relieved that Miss Brown wasn’t listed as one of the victims.

  He almost missed the section containing the eyewitness report, the word “Oklahoma” registering immediately as his brain sorted the facts as known.

  Turning quickly to a stack of folders lying on his desk, the lawman flipped through several open cases until Bishop’s report on the incident in Davidson County was in his hand. There it was again, the van’s inspection sticker. A white van. Most likely from Oklahoma.

  Then there was a conversation he’d had with Pete just that morning.

  The councilman and former law enforcement officer was often interested in the criminal activity occurring throughout the territories. Being Bishop’s friend, Pete was especially keen to hear about the Texan’s adventures outside Fort Davidson.

  Upon hearing about the van’s registration sticker, Pete recalled the strange encounter he’d had the previous day at the bar. Producing the $100 bill, he described the man who’d left the super-sized tip and his odd behavior. Oklahoma, yet again.

  Watts scratched his head, his mind screaming that he was missing something very important. Finally, it dawned.

  The man who may have incited the riot in Amarillo had been wearing
a suit and tie, described by many as “well dressed.” Pete had used the exact same description of his customer.

  Watts wondered if it might possibly be the same man.

  Grabbing a pen and notepad, the sheriff scribbled an order to be broadcasted immediately. He wanted a sketch artist to work with key witnesses to create an image of the supposed troublemaker. He could show the drawing to Pete, and if it was the same man, he would start passing the image around Alpha to see if he got a hit.

  After handing his written command to an assistant, Watts then flipped open his notepad and found Nick’s emergency Sat-phone number.

  The head of Alliance security needed to know his initial findings, as well as his suspicions regarding Pete’s customer.

  Opening a drawer, the sheriff retrieved the high-tech device and dialed Nick’s phone.

  The big man answered, and then listened as Watts relayed his findings.

  “Now isn’t that all quite interesting, Sheriff. You’ve given me a lot to consider. Has anyone seen Bishop, by the way?”

  “No, I thought he was with you.”

  “He never showed up.”

  “Do I need to put out a bulletin?” Watts asked, his concerns now going wider.

  “Not yet. Let’s see where he turns up.”

  It took a while, unpacking the truck, verifying Terri and Hunter were shipshape and grabbing a bite to eat. After cleaning his weapons, the Texan decided to walk down to the courthouse and see if anyone knew what all the helicopter fuss was about.

  A few blocks away, he ran into Butter taking an after-dinner stroll and enjoying the cool air.

  “Hey, boss,” the always cheerful kid greeted.

  “What’s up, Butter? You doing okay?”

  “Yes, sir. I just found a place serving great hamburgers. They were so yummy, I had four.”

  Grunting at the mental image of a bewildered waitress and harried cook, Bishop asked the question that had been weighing on his mind all evening. “Hey, any word on what those three Blackhawks were doing in Alpha?”