Half a second behind him, Robertson touched down on the second man’s temple. “Grab air, asshole.”
The black man attached to David’s gun shifted his weight to the balls of his feet while raising his hands. Fuck. The guy has military training. What was he doing siding with the terrorists? Or was their no-military policy on a case-by-case basis. “Don’t even think about it. I will pull the trigger before you can lift your big toe.”
“Can I pull the trigger anyway, Sergeant-Major?” Robertson growled. “We only need one to interrogate. The other might as well be pig food.”
The black man’s eye twitched. “As a last request, I ask that you let me kill Papa Rose here. He’s always talking me into doing stupid shit.”
Papa Rose. Well fuck! Then the man threatening the suicide counterattack must be Falcon. David moved his finger from the trigger and set the safety. Stepping back, he lowered his weapon.
“Goddamnfuckingshitlickingassfucker.” Robertson stomped to the side. “I hate being promised a shooting then not getting to do it. Makes me all twitchy.”
Papa Rose shook his head. “There’s a pill for that.”
God, that’s all he needed was someone to encourage Robertson. David returned his weapon to the small of his back. “Wanna tell me what conquerors of Palo Verde Nuclear Generating Station were thinking breaking into the armory?”
Papa Rose raked his fingers over his bald head. The rose tattoos on his arm danced. “I was there when the atom splitter blew. I recognized the C-4 aftertaste.”
Anyone who’d served in the field would. “Lister mentioned it. But why are you here?”
A look passed between Papa Rose and Falcon. Papa Rose frowned.
Falcon sighed. “Apparently, the investigators lied about performing tests and checking evidence.”
David blinked. He was the investigator. He hadn’t been to the scene yet. So who the fuck was stomping all over his crime scene? “Who were they?”
Papa Rose shrugged. “Jay and the Marine nerd, Rogers.”
Did Lister think David wasn’t up for the job? Is that why he sent in his officer buddies? The computer in David’s grip beeped. He loosened his hold. Time to knuckle down and get some results. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the black plastic and metal listening device floating in a vial of water. Two wires trailed behind the square transmitter. “You know what this is?”
Falcon squinted at it. “A bug. Russian, probably. American’s demand style. Where’d you get it?”
Russian, what the fuck? “We don’t have any Russians.”
Papa Rose snorted. “Most folks had access to eBay before the end.”
Well, that sucked. David tucked the bug back into his pocket. “Any idea of the range?”
“Surrounded by rock as we are…” Falcon stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Twenty-thirty feet. Where’d you find it?”
That close? David rubbed the back of his neck. Knots of tension were strung along the muscle. Military officers surrounded his and Doc’s room. Benedict could just be an ass and the real threat wore a tattered uniform. He needed more men—men he could trust. And he’d just found himself two new recruits. “Robertson give me a count on the M112s and blasting caps.”
“You got it, Sergeant-Major.” With military precision, the PFC turned and marched back to the explosives stockpile.
“You,” David pointed at Papa Rose, “I want you at EM-3 at zero-six-hundred tomorrow morning. Bring the other witness, Buchanan wasn’t it?”
Papa Rose squared his shoulders. “Yes, Sergeant-Major.”
“Until then, I want you to go through the population and give me a list of suspects.” He would access the military records personally. The fewer people who knew about the possible inside coup, the better. “Start with Dirk Benedict, Jake Turner and Justin Quartermain and their known associates.”
“Justin.” Robertson whistled through his teeth. “The Doc ain’t going to be happy about that.”
Falcon crossed his arms. His biceps pulsed. “With all due respect, Sergeant-Major, we’re no longer in the service.”
David ground his teeth. He’d forgotten the man was Special Forces. The bastards always had an attitude. Stepping forward, he invaded the man’s space. “You mustered out less than five years ago. That means I can call your ass up to serve if I feel the need. I definitely feel the need. Got it?”
Falcon’s lips twitched and he came to attention. “Yes, Sergeant-Major. Nice to know you’re back.”
“I never left. Now, get me those names.” David clasped his hands behind his back. “And let’s get one thing straight. You report to me and only me. This is an Army matter and we don’t allow zipper-suited sun gods or jarheads to show us up, understand?”
“Oorah!” He shouted the time honored battle cry.
Damn, it felt good to be back in the service. “Now get outta here. I’m sick of looking at your ugly faces.”
Falcon shoved Papa Rose over the threshold. “Told you, you were ugly.”
Oh hell. David glanced at the flying windows screensaver on his computer. He might have just enlisted two more Robertsons. Why not? He’d put up with a hundred of them if they’d helped him figure out what the bastards were up to.
“Uh, Big D.” Robertson cleared his throat. Black stubble stood out against his pale cheeks. “I only have thirty-nine cases of M112s.”
Holy mother of God. That was five short. Five! “You sure.”
“Checked it twice. And there’s an equal number of blasting caps gone.” Robertson inhaled a shaky breath. “What do you think they want with it?”
“Something big.” Real big.
Big enough to bring the mountain down and bury them alive.
Chapter Twenty
Dirk paused in the archway into the main dining hall. Voices rose and fell around him. A man on his right forced a smile and handed a toddler a shortbread cookie. A woman on his left joked about not needing the carbs to her waistline to her friends. Two teenagers near the dark serving line griped about not having French fries.
He smiled and rubbed his hands together. His campaign was off to a good start. Sure, the power interruption had been dismissed as commonplace but the missing potatoes… That was tonight’s real lesson. And the people would continue to suffer privations until they saw the true path humanity must take.
Everyone had a place.
And they needed visionaries like him to put them there.
Tonight, they would meet the man Dirk had hand-selected to lead them into the future, reshape human society and rid the world of corruption once and for all.
“Cookies or candy?” A lanky Mexican boy stood beyond the threshold with a basket dangling from his arm. Fun-sized candies and cookies filled the interior.
“Neither.” The potatoes set heavily in his stomach. The scalloped goodness had been in his room after he’d recruited Gavin. Others would be able to enjoy such delicacies too—once they saw the error of their ways. Stepping aside, Dirk allowed a couple to pass.
Now he just needed his front man to show up. He scanned the crowd.
Dressed in Marine casual, Sally Rogers stood on a ladder adjusting the projector. The mountain scene shifted in and out of focus on the white sheet above the stage. Folks gathered around the base asking her questions. Most stood in disorganized clumps, chatting.
The people definitely needed someone to make sure they associated only with their equals.
Dirk checked his watch. Gavin had better not be late. A president-to-be had to at least appear to be one of the people. And speaking of presidents… Where was Mavis Spanner? He wanted to see her face when he presented Gavin.
Women would wet themselves over his good looks.
Men would want to be him.
After tonight’s speech, the election was as good as won.
“Looks like I’ve got a packed house.” Gavin brushed Dirk’s shoulder.
Dirk shifted away and inspected his candidate. A thick head of black hair was swept
away from his forehead. Faint character lines radiated from the corners of his brown eyes. And light practically sparked off his capped teeth. Blunt fingers swept down the lapels of his charcoal gray suit. The jacket strained across his broad shoulders and the cuffs ended a little high on his wrists. “Nice suit.”
“As the good book says, ask and you shall receive.”
No doubt, the actor had done a little more than ask—he’d liberated someone’s belongings. Dirk shrugged. Those with vision deserved rewards. “Do you remember your lines?”
“Of course.” Gavin tugged at his cuffs. “I’m a professional.”
So he’d said many times. Dirk just hoped the man could deliver. Time to find out. “Then let’s begin.”
Gavin nodded regally. A strand of black hair fell across his forehead.
Dirk hoped that wasn’t a sign of things to come. Taking a deep breath, he threaded a path along the outside aisle. Folks parted before him. Women wrinkled their noses and sidled away. Men glared at him. Some held their position, demanding he walk around them.
This was temporary. Soon, they’d learn their place.
Gavin strolled behind him, pointing to a few people in the audience before waving at them. “The bitch doctor sure has them convinced you had something to do with the plagues.”
“I didn’t.” Dirk’s stomach clenched. Shrug it off. Ignore it. He couldn’t afford an ulcer. Wouldn’t give Doctor Spanner the satisfaction of inflicting one on himself. Once past the chairs, he veered toward the makeshift stage. Metal groaned under his weight as he climbed the three steps. His footsteps hammered at the stage, echoed around the room.
Conversations ceased.
Eyes focused on him.
Tingles raced over Dirk’s skin. He could get used to the attention, would have to when he assumed his rightful place. Pausing in the center of the stage, he faced his audience.
Men and women slipped into their seats. Children where hushed.
Sally swapped the image of a mountain with a bright, white spotlight.
Blinking, Dirk waited for his eyes to adjust. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make.”
“You’re going on a diet.” Kevin sneered from the second row. “And we’ll all get double rations for the next month of dinners until you come down to a normal weight.”
Laughter rippled through the audience.
Heat flared in Dirk’s cheeks. Let them laugh now. He’d have the last laugh. He shored up his smile. Their opinion only mattered as far as the vote, then he wouldn’t have to pander to the stupid masses anymore.
“I promise not to delay tonight’s entertainment.” After all, the low-brow entertainment would serve as an opiate in the years to come. “But elections are only a month away. We need to look toward the future. And who better to give you that first tantalizing glimpse of the glory awaiting us than the man who will lead us there, Gavin Neville.”
Dirk backed up when Gavin jogged forward, both arms waving.
A handful of people applauded.
Supporters Dirk had planted in the audience. He hoped his street team remembered their part—plant suspicion and sow discontent.
“Thanks so much for having me here today.” Gavin unbuttoned his jacket and pulled the fabric back before setting his hand on his hip. “I know that the upcoming election is a distant second to those missing French fries and our recurrent power outages.”
Good reminder of their discomforts. Dirk stopped on the edge of the stage, set his chin on his steepled fingers.
“But I wanted to tell you, I feel your pain. I lost loved ones and simple comforts that can’t be too hard to prioritize. I mean we’re living in a cave for pity’s sake.”
Dirk watched a few people nod. His street team leaned to their neighbors, adding to the message.
“Now, I’m not a fancy scientist or a disciplined soldier. I’m just an ordinary person.” Gavin beamed at them. “Like all of you.”
Sally climbed down from her ladder and carefully folded it.
Dirk shrugged. He hadn’t expected the military to fall in line. Thankfully most women in the audience were drawn by Gavin’s charm and looks.
“Our Founding Fathers wrote that the people should lead the Government for a good reason. Scientists and the military live in their own world, by their own rules. They don’t understand us.” Gavin opened his arms to encompass the people. Then he pointed and waved at a woman.
Dirk smiled as she fanned herself. Excellent. Now for the grand finale.
“I know we owe them for leading us to safety.” Gavin clasped his hands together as if in prayer. “But we stand at a fork in the road. One direction will set us on the way things have always been and lead us to the same conclusion.” He pointed to Sally for a moment. “The other will set us on a righteous path, allowing us to fulfill our divine purpose and remake mankind into a glorious image.”
“Amen!” someone shouted from the back.
Heads turned toward Cole, one of Dirk’s street team. Not all of them wore a friendly expression. Dirk crossed his arms. They didn’t have to be. He only needed fifty percent to win. Less, since he doubted many folks would vote.
Gavin pointed to Cole and grinned. “Now, I know we don’t like to change horses in midstream, but the folks in charge have already assured us we’re over the worst. It’s time we started to take charge of our destiny. In the coming weeks, I’ll show you that I, an ordinary Joe like you, am the one for the job. Thank you for your time. Now enjoy your movie.”
Dirk waddled toward the stairs as a few people applauded. It wasn’t enough to win the election, but it was more than he’d had before.
Grinning and waving, Gavin jogged down the stairs. He held out his hand as he approached the first row.
Ralph, another of his street team, lurched forward and pumped Gavin’s hand. “I don’t know if I’m gonna vote for you, but I sure would love to hear what you have to say.”
Two men sidled closer.
Dirk stood back a pace and watched. His partner might be onto something. Cole’s wholehearted support hadn’t swayed folks, but Ralph’s open-mindedness did. Or at least it provided a crack in the door they could use to wedge it open.
Keeping his distance, Dirk shadowed Gavin’s progress down the room. Halfway there, the movie started.
A slim brunette shifted to the side and invited Gavin to sit down.
Dirk looked for an open seat nearby. None. He pressed his hands against his spine. And now his back was beginning to hurt. As soon as his people ascended to power, there’d be assigned seating. None of this first come, first served bologna.
An old man cleared his throat and tapped Dirk on the shoulder. “You Benedict?”
“Yes.”
“Gotta proposition for you.” White stubble sprouted from the man’s craggy features. He jerked his head toward the hallway.
A proposition? From his crooked frame to the calluses on his hand, this man would rightfully belong on the bottom of their new society. Still, Dirk couldn’t afford to offend anyone at the moment. Every vote mattered until only those who mattered could vote. He nodded and followed the aroma of rancid cheese and armpits into the hallway.
The old man paused in the gloom between lights and dug into his tattered pants.
“What can I do for you?”
“I understand you got some potatoes.”
Dirk’s heart seized in his chest. Potatoes? How had he been linked to the potatoes? God, if the military was willing to kill over a stupid chicken, what would they do to him for liberating fifty pounds of potatoes? Fear pulsing in his ears, he glanced left then right. No one stood outside. No one would hear. But in this rock prison, words carried far. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do.” The old man sucked at the spit clinging to his brown teeth. “And I want some.” He raised his hand and opened his palm. “This should be enough to get me five or so good-sized ones.”
Dirk blinked at the chunk of glass in the man’s hand
s. Laughter bubbled up his throat. “You’re nuts, you know that? Keep your glass.”
He turned toward the dining hall.
The old man raked his gnarled fingers down Dirk’s arm. “That’s not glass, boy.”
A sharp shake made Dirk turn.
“That’s quartz and inside is gold.” The old man held up the square-cut quartz. Veins of gold reflected the light.
Dirk reached for it.
“Nuh-uh.” The man twirled it in his fingers. “I want the potatoes first.”
Right now, in Doctor Spanner’s twisted utopia, everyone got a share of what they had—whether they worked for it or not. That was against the natural order of things.
Gold complemented his vision perfectly. Dirk licked his lips. “Is there more?”
They would need more. Not a lot, but enough to make people want it and obey him to get it.
The old man flashed his rotting teeth. “Could be.”
“Follow me.” Gold. Real gold changed everything in his favor.
Chapter Twenty-One
Audra sat on her and Eddie’s double cot, tapping the foil packet of birth control pills against her palm. The room quickly emptied as the others filed out for breakfast. To take the pill or not to take it? The carefully smoothed blankets creased and pleated under her weight.
Eddie set his hand over hers, stopping the noise. “The nightmares will fade.”
“I know.” She reached for the necklace. Gone. She was sure its theft precipitated the nightmares returning her to that house in Payson.
“And you know I won’t let anyone hurt you again, right?”
“Yes.” Facing him, she brushed aside the lock of black hair that always dangled in front of his forehead. She loved that he protected her without smothering her. Of course, that might change with just a few words. Men were funny like that.
After a final squeeze, he released her hand and reached for his boots. He winced as he bent forward. “So what is it?”
She held up the foil packet. Two rows of pills remained. One row was a placebo. “I’m thinking of not taking these anymore.”
Redaction: Dark Hope Part III Page 14
