Revenge Story

by Julia Broussard

  All four officers sprinted for their cars. “Fucking assholes!” Ackerman shouted. “They’re the ones who killed Norris! We have to get out an APB on that goddamn Ford truck.”

  They reached their cars and saw the hoods open and the radios in pieces. “Shit!” said Ackerman. He cocked his foot and slammed a big kick into the driver’s door, denting it. He leaned inside the car and inserted his key into the ignition, turning it to the accessory position. Then he reached over and switched on the computer. It began to boot up and he slid behind the seat. “Son of a bitch! Dumb asses forgot about the computers,” he said. As soon as it finished booting, he started typing out a message for the dispatcher in Eureka.

  As they raced down Elk River Road for the main highway, Ben shook his head. His face was grim. “First thing we have to do is switch vehicles,” he said. “We need a van maybe, and another car.”

  “Do you know where we can get them?” said Morris.

  “Over in Fortuna. It’s about thirty miles south on 101. I have some good fake ID in my wallet I can use with the car lots. Then we head back up north to Eureka and find a place to stay until morning.”

  Karen reached down and picked up the police radio. “Maybe we should listen in on this, just in case.”

  “Good idea,” said Ben. “Just turn that switch on top. It should already be tuned to the frequency they’re using.”

  She switched on the radio.

  “...last seen in a white Ford pickup truck, direction unknown, but may be heading west toward Highway 101 from the Elk River Road. All available units proceed to the area code three. Suspects are two white males, thirty to thirty-five years old, armed with automatic weapons. Use extreme caution.”

  “How the fuck did they manage that?” Ray shouted. “Goddamn it! We only left five minutes ago!”

  “They must have gotten loose somehow,” said Ben. “Did you smash their computers along with the radios in those patrol units?”

  “Shit. Didn’t even think of it.”

  “Well, that’s it then,” said Ben. “They got loose, went to their cars, and then used the computer to get out the word on us. We have to find another vehicle, and quick.”

  “What’s ‘code three’ mean?” said Karen.

  “Means use lights and siren,” said Ben. “It’s still a few minutes to the freeway. I hope we can beat them there before they set up a roadblock.”

  As they rounded the next corner on the old country road, two police cars passed them going the other way with their blue lights flashing and sirens blaring. Smoke poured from their tires as both cars screeched to a halt and made quick u-turns.

  “They made us. They’re coming back,” said Ray.

  “Fuck that,” said Ben. “We’re not running away from them. We stop them right here.” He slammed on the brakes, stopped the truck sideways in the road, and got out.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Ray shouted. “Get back in here and drive!”

  Ben kept a close eye on the two cruisers as they roared closer. He jerked up a loose corner of the tarp covering the back of the truck and grabbed his BAR. He took cover behind the bed of the truck. “Come on, Ray! Let ‘em have it!” he shouted. “Karen! Get down on the floorboards!”

  Pulling the heavy gun to his shoulder, Ben blasted out a full thirty round clip into the patrol cars with an ear-splitting roar, splattering their windshields and punching holes in the radiators. Both cars slid sideways and came to a stop about fifty yards away. Anti-freeze gushed onto the ground and steam poured out in a fog from both vehicles. Ben taunted them loudly. “Hey, assholes! How do you like me now?”

  The two officers jumped from their cars and took cover behind the cruisers, firing back with their pistols. Bullets plinked into the pickup, thunk, thunk, thunk. Karen tucked herself into the space beneath the glove compartment and covered her ears.

  Ray ducked behind the front of the truck and took aim with his Uzi, spraying the squad cars with nine-millimeter rounds that tore small bits and pieces from both vehicles. “Ben! Let’s get out of here! Every cop around’s going to show up any second!”

  “Fuck that! Keep shooting!” Ben yelled back. He popped the double magazine free on the BAR, flipped it around, and then slammed it back into the gun. He snapped back the bolt and then fired short bursts at the patrol cars until the magazine was empty. As he did, he saw one of the cops stagger back and fall to the ground. He tossed the rifle into the bed of the pickup and reached under the tarp a second time. He came up with a disposable LAWS rocket. “Get down, Ray!” he barked. The one remaining cop had taken a better firing stance and was squeezing off shots one after another. Ben felt a pistol bullet whiz past his face. He aimed the LAW and fired. With a whoosh, the rocket rushed from the tube of the weapon and struck one of the patrol cars, blowing it to pieces and setting fire to both cars. Glass, metal, and rubber rained down from the sky and onto the road with a clatter. The shooting ceased, and it was quiet except for the crackling of the fire that was rapidly consuming both police cars. Ben tossed the empty rocket tube into the ditch and climbed back into the truck. “So much for that. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.

  As they sped away, Ben spotted a large white house on a hill about a mile ahead. He pointed to it. “You see that place up there?”

  “Yeah?” said Ray.

  “Let’s hope someone’s home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re dropping in for dinner. If we stay on this road driving this truck we’re toast.”

  They cruised quietly up the long driveway leading from the main road to the house. It was a two-story home with large picture windows, a stucco roof, and a triple garage. A brand-new BMW and a sleek motor home were parked out front.

  “These guys are rich,” said Karen.

  “We’re going to try a little home invasion here,” said Ben, parking the truck on the other side of the motor home. “Just follow my lead.”

  “No, wait,” said Morris. “Karen and I can handle this. You stay in the truck. It will look better if a man and a woman go up to the door, rather than all three of us.”

  “Okay,” said Ben, switching off the ignition. “But if something happens, just yell out or something and I’ll be there in two seconds.”

  Ray and Karen got out and walked up to the front door. Ray rang the bell. “Tell them we need water for the truck radiator,” he said quietly. He put his hands behind his back and slipped out the Beretta from his belt, keeping it out of sight.

  “Okay.”

  A distinguished looking man about sixty years old answered the door. “Yes?”

  “Hi,” said Karen. “Do you think we could have some water for the truck?” She pointed to it and smiled. “We got the leak in the radiator fixed, but we need some water to fill it up.”

  “Well, uh, okay,” said the man. “Just make it quick. There’s a hose over...”

  Ray grabbed the man by his shirt with one hand and pulled him outside. He stuck the Beretta against the man’s neck. He was so close he could smell the man’s cologne. “Be quiet. Do as you’re told and you won’t get hurt.”

  “Please...”

  “Who’s here with you?” said Ray. “Don’t lie or I’ll blow your head off.”

  “Just my wife,” the man replied. “Please don’t hurt us.”

  “Call her to the door.” Ray lowered the gun and held it out of sight behind his back. “Now.”

  “Annie? Could you come here for a minute?”

  A beautiful blonde about twenty-five years old walked up and smiled. “Hi. What’s all this?” she said in a friendly voice.

  What a cradle robber, Ray thought. The guy’s old enough to be her father. He showed her the gun. “Not a sound,” he said. “No one wants to hurt you two, but if I have to I will. You understand?”

  The woman blanched white but said nothing. She put her hands over her mouth.

  Karen waved at Ben to come inside.

  “Get them to open the garage!” Ben ca
lled back from the truck.

  Sergeant David Ackerman watched impassively as the crime scene team continued to snap pictures of the carnage on Elk River Road. One of the patrol cars was in pieces and the other was partially burned. Ackerman stared at the empty LAWS rocket tube that now sat on the hood of the burned car, waiting to be added to the evidence list. That’s what killed Gordon, he thought. Harris, the other officer, had been cut down with bullets that punched through his Kevlar vest like butter. Probably by the guy with the BAR, he thought. Ackerman was certain that when they found a few of the slugs, those slugs would match the caliber used by a Browning automatic rifle.

  It was after sunset now, and the evidence team worked under lights powered by a portable generator. Ackerman wished he could jump into his car and start tearing the countryside apart looking for the two men who had caused it all. Counting the officer who had gotten his face blown off the other day, three of his fellow CHP officers were now dead.

  “Sergeant Ackerman?”

  Ackerman turned toward the voice. He saw three men in dark suits walking out of the shadows. “That’s me,” he answered. “What do you want?”

  The three wore baseball caps and jackets with the logo of the Federal Bureau of Investigation on them. One of them held out his hand. “I’m sorry about what happened here, Sergeant Ackerman. I’m Special Agent Ryan McKenzie.” He pointed to his companions. “Special Agents David Wilson and Mike Carlisle. This manhunt is now officially a Federal case, although we would like to coordinate with the CHP on it.”

  “How did it go federal?” said Ackerman. “Do you realize they’ve killed three highway patrolmen now? Every one of my men wants to be the one to put these two down for good. I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to.”

  “The weapons, sergeant. Possession of automatic weapons and the use of them in a crime is a Federal offense. That’s how it went federal.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. I forgot.” Ackerman leaned against the burned-out car and passed a hand over his eyes. “Look, I don’t give a fuck if Mickey Mouse gets involved. We could use your help, sure. I just want these people off the streets or dead, and quickly.” He looked McKenzie in the eye. “I knew both these officers, and their families, and the other one who was killed on this same road a couple of weeks ago. The assholes that did this are going down hard.”

  “Got any names on these two yet?” McKenzie asked.

  Ackerman pointed to the empty LAWS rocket tube. “The guy who fired that is Benjamin David Cummings. The man with him is Raymond Andrew Morris. The third one is Morris’ wife, Karen. Before he died, Officer Harris said he saw a woman in the truck. Had to be Morris’ wife. Believe it or not, none of them even has a previous criminal record.”

  “There’s a woman involved, too? Are you sure?” said McKenzie.

  “We know all about them now,” said Ackerman. “We identified Ben as the owner of a ranch near here. Cummings and Morris ambushed us there. We’re lucky to be alive. Both these guys are Iraq war vets. They even served in the same goddamn unit. And get this Agent McKenzie – Morris was a company commander and Cummings was his senior NCO. They’re both decorated, too. Cummings got a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. Morris has a Silver Star.”

  “What the hell made them do this, then?” McKenzie said, waving a hand around the evidence scene.

  “I haven’t a fucking clue,” said Ackerman, “and frankly I don’t give a shit. Maybe they went psycho over in Iraq. All I care about is putting those two in body bags.”

  “What about the woman?”

  “Same thing. If she’s a part of this.”

  “Well, I have some news for you and it’s not good,” said McKenzie.

  “What’s that?”

  “The first thing we did when we got here was to run the serial number on that rocket. We traced it back to a group of weapons stolen from a National Guard armory near Eureka last year.”

  “Well,” said Ackerman, “at least it can’t be used again. I heard about that robbery. What else?”

  “They have two more of those LAWS rockets, along with a few frag grenades, a couple of satchel charges, and a Stinger missile.”

  “A Stinger? You can’t be serious.”

  “I am perfectly serious,” said McKenzie. “This means they can shoot an aircraft right out of the sky from up to a mile away. The Bureau is putting these three on the Top Ten Most Wanted list right now. As far as we’re concerned, they’re nothing but homegrown terrorists. Over a hundred agents are on their way here from San Francisco, Los Angeles, and the Las Vegas offices.”

  “Well, terrorism isn’t their game,” said Ackerman. “This guy Cummings just became a suspect in six local bank robberies. We found a dressing table and some other little goodies up in the loft of a barn on his property. We took some bank robbery photos and compared them to his Army photograph. When we added on a wig and a beard, we got a good match. We also found a few bills in that barn with serial numbers that match from the robberies.”

  “Uh, the same barn where...”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Ackerman. “The same barn where those assholes got the drop on us. That won’t happen again, I shit you not.”

  “You have any idea where they went, or what they plan to do next?” said McKenzie.

  Ackerman shook his head. “Who knows? If they have money, they’ll probably keep running. If they don’t, they may try to pull off another bank job. I hope they do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because starting tomorrow morning, we’re going to be staking out as many banks in the area as we can. And if they do another robbery, we’ll nail their sorry asses to the fucking wall.”

  Chapter 6

  Ben took another bite of his bologna sandwich and stared down at the scene unfolding far below on Elk River Road. “Now that’s a sight,” he said. “I wonder if they’ll keep the road blocked all night. The locals won’t like that. And Labor Day weekend is just around the corner.”

  Karen walked up to him and handed him a glass of milk. She glanced through the curtains over his shoulder. “That’s not funny, Ben. They’re going to kill the both of you if they get the chance, you know that right?”

  “I suppose they’ll try,” said Ben, “but I don’t plan on making it easy for them.” He took a drink of the milk. “You and Ray take care of those two?”

  “They’re tied up in the master bedroom,” said Karen.

  “Good. I think I have an idea how we can get past the cops tomorrow.”

  “How?”

  “We’re going to take that BMW sedan out front and use it to hit the bank in Eureka. You’ll be following Ray and me in the motorhome, and we’ll switch over to it after the robbery and use it for the getaway car. No one will be expecting that, as long as we can keep the owners from reaching a phone for a while.” He turned from the window and looked at Karen, taking a bit of her blond hair in his fingers for a moment. “You ever thought about becoming a redhead?” he said.

  “What do you mean?” She pulled away. Oh, no, she thought. If Ray catches him making a pass at me he will go ballistic.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Karen. I wasn’t trying to get funny on you. But we need to change our appearances. I have most of the wigs, the beards, and the stage makeup in the back of the truck. We need disguises. Our faces are all over the news by now.”

  Karen kept her face neutral, but inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief. “Disguises? Sure. Can I ask you a question, Ben?”

  He took another bite of the sandwich. “What?”

  “Do you feel bad about killing those cops?”

  “Not much. It was either them or us. It’s my fault for the way things turned out, though. Now we’re probably the most wanted people in America. Our chances aren’t too good of getting away, you know that, right?” He shook his head. “You know how it is. Cops will move heaven and earth to find cop killers. Everybody from the FBI down to the Boy Scouts will be looking for us.”

  Karen leaned against the back of the couc
h. “Why do you say this whole thing is your fault?”

  Ben stared out the window again. “Well, when you first called me when you were on the road, I already knew about your trouble up in Oregon. I saw it on the news. I could have refused to let you come to my place. Or tossed you guys a few bucks and let you go on your way. But I took advantage of your troubles. The minute you showed up, I already had plans to ask you to throw in with me so I could leave the country. I knew I couldn’t do it alone. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved, especially when I was already out there robbing banks. I just made things worse for you.”

  “Maybe so,” said Karen, “but we were already in trouble when we showed up at your door. If they had caught us, Ray would have gone off to prison for years. I mean, who would the jury believe? A cop who was beat up and then tied up in his own car, or Ray and me?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so. You know Ray saved my life twice over in Iraq.”

  “I know. He never told me exactly what happened, though.”

  Ben sat the glass of milk on a nearby table. “It was in Fallujah the first time. I took a squad down an alley and some insurgents opened up on us from the rooftops at the end of the alley. Two of my men were killed instantly by AK-47 fire. The rest of us ducked into doorways and tried to return fire, but they had a real good angle on us from the rooftops.” He grimaced, remembering. “We couldn’t move forward, and we couldn’t go back down the alley. We were getting shot up pretty bad, and then they started tossing grenades at us.”

  “What happened?”

  “We decided to make a run for it back down the alley anyway,” Ben said. “As soon as we stepped out of the doorways, they started pouring on the small-arms fire again. I was hit in the shoulder and leg and another one of my men was killed. His brains went all over the front of my uniform. A couple of the other men tried to drag us out of there, and they started taking hits, too.” Ben passed a hand across his face. “I thought we were all dead. Then out of nowhere, I heard this rifle popping off single shots, bang, bang, bang. I look up and there’s Ray kneeling at the entrance to the alley and blowing those insurgents right off the rooftops. I could see bullets hitting the ground all around him. He just stayed put and kept shooting as if he were at the target range. Three of them fell off the roof dead, and then the others ran off.”