by Robert Boren
“You people are animals,” she said, stepping over the two bodies. “Good, police officers. Arrest these women. They assaulted me and killed these two, putting all of us in danger.”
Jason looked at the deputy standing near them, who shrugged and walked away.
“What? Come back here,” the woman demanded.
“What did you do to her, anyway?” Jason asked Carrie, ignoring the woman.
“It wasn’t me, it was Kate,” Carrie said. “This idiot told the hostage takers that we were armed. After I shot both of them, Kate hit her with a nice right cross. Laid her out.”
“Really?” Kyle said.
“I felt like I was in danger,” the woman sniffed.
“You were,” Jason said. “From yourself. Get out of here and I won’t run you in as an accessory.”
“You can’t…”
“He said scram,” Kate said, taking a step towards her. She rushed out into the store.
“What happened outside?” Carrie asked as the four of them headed towards the broken door in back.
“When we got here they were executing shoppers in the parking lot,” Jason said.
“There was a bunch of them,” Kyle said. “We were lucky. There were about twenty of them rushing towards us when the cavalry arrived. We just had bolt-action hunting rifles.”
“Cavalry?” Kate asked.
“Yeah, several truckloads of rednecks with long guns,” Kyle said. “It was a real bloodbath. They took no prisoners.”
“Neither did we,” Jason said.
The sheriff saw them as they were walking away from the building and rushed over to meet them.
“Thanks, Jason,” he said, shaking his hand. “You too, Kyle.”
“Hey, Kate and Carrie are the heroes from inside,” Kyle said.
“Seriously,” Jason said.
“There were a few more armed citizens inside that deserve credit too,” Carrie said.
“Oh, and a bunch of rednecks out front,” Jason said.
The sheriff laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, already talked to those guys. A couple of them were in jail last week. Drunk and disorderly.”
“They sure came in handy today,” Kyle said.
“The folks in Austin aren’t gonna be thrilled about this,” the sheriff said. “Especially those idiots who want to kill concealed and open carry.”
“Screw them,” Jason said. “I got to give up my weekend to keep the citizens from punching out a bunch of those folks.”
“Oh, you got the protest detail eh?” The sheriff chuckled.
“Yeah, Kyle too,” Jason said. “At least we get OT. More money for the boat fund.”
“Yeah, right,” Carrie said. “More money for the baby fund.”
“That’s what you get for being a family man,” Kyle said.
“Yeah, says the guy who’s just about fainting over Kate here,” Carrie said. “You know, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes…”
“Stop!” Kyle said, shooting a glance over at Kate. She looked embarrassed.
“I’ve got to go,” she said. “You don’t mind if I take this, do you, sheriff?”
“Afraid I do, assuming that came from a terrorist,” the sheriff said. “Hand them over you two.”
“He’s right, honey,” Jason said. “Those are evidence.”
“Ah shucks,” Carrie said, handing it over. “Can I have it back after the investigation?”
“Maybe,” he whispered. “Talk to me when it’s over, and we’ll see what we can do.”
“Hey, Kate, can I have your number?” Kyle asked as she walked away. She turned back and smiled.
“Sure,” she said, but she kept walking.
Chapter 2 – Austin Insanity
Kip Hendrix sat at his desk, reading the Austin Chronicle and sipping chai tea. His phone rang, and he looked at it with annoyed disgust, setting his mug down. When angry his wrinkles set in deeper, making him look like a mummy, his bald head completing the image. He pushed the lighted red button on his desk phone.
“Yeah,” he said.
“We got problems,” said a thin voice.
“Jerry Sutton. Figures. What kind of problems?”
“You hear about the incident in Dripping Springs a little while ago?”
“No, I’ve been busy with paperwork all morning,” he said, shoving his newspaper into the trash can next to his desk. “You coming over?”
“I’ll be right down.”
“Okay.” Kip pushed the button again to hang up, and shuffled papers around his desk to make himself look busy.
There was a knock at the door.
“It’s open,” Hendrix said. A middle-aged man walked in, clean-shaven and a little pudgy, wearing khaki Dockers and a button-down shirt that had come un-tucked on one side.
“Geez, Sutton, straighten yourself up, will you?” the old man said through a sneer.
He looked down, seeing his shirt hanging out, and tucked it back in. “Sorry.”
“Well, sit,” Kip said. “I don’t have all day. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“I know, sorry,” Sutton said nervously. He paused again.
“What is it, dammit?”
“Another mass shooting.”
“You know how we handle those. Never let a crisis go to waste. Pump up the anti-gun fever. What kind of shooters? Rednecks with guns, or some random nutcase again?”
Jerry paused again, loosening his tie and undoing his top button.
“C’mon, dammit!”
“It was Islamic extremists, sir,” he said.
“Shit. Who provoked them?”
“I haven’t gotten to the worst part yet,” Sutton said.
Hendrix pushed back in his chair, running his hand over his forehead and onto the top of his bald head. “Calm down. What is it?”
“You remember that Islamic Center that you spoke at two weeks ago?”
“Yeah.”
“The shooters came from there.”
“Son of a bitch,” Kip said, reaching for his phone, punching in a number.
“If you’re thinking of talking to Joram, you can forget it. He was one of the shooters. He’s on his way to a slab in the morgue.”
“Dammit. How we gonna spin this?”
“It’s gonna be tough, sir,” Jerry said. “He got it in the parking lot. The whole area is covered by surveillance cameras.”
“Where did it happen?”
“That big Superstore. The one we fought.”
“Figures it would be those assholes,” Kip said. “You know what to do next, right?”
“What?”
Hendrix sighed. “What am I paying you for? Go strong arm the store manager for the video, you idiot.”
“There were a lot of witnesses there,” Jerry said. “Some of them were stupid rednecks, and some of them were just plain folks, but two of them were off-duty Austin PD, and they saw the whole damn thing.”
“Austin PD, eh? We can lean on Austin PD.”
“Sometimes we can lean on them,” Jerry said. “Remember what happened last time?”
“That was your fault,” Kip said. “I’ll worry about the cops. You go get that frigging video. Now.”
Sutton scooted out of the office with his tail between his legs. Hendrix rested his elbows on the desk and held his head as pain throbbed. Then he picked up the phone, looked at it for a moment, and then punched in a number. There was a click, and the operator picked up.
“US Department of Justice. How may I direct your call?”
“Give me the Assistant to the Attorney General, please.”
“Who may I say is calling?”
“President Pro Tempore of the Texas State Senate.”
Chapter 3 – Falcon Reservoir
Juan Carlos Gonzales and Brendan Smith looked out over the wide expanse of the Falcon Reservoir in the moonlight as their 36-foot armored patrol boat cut through it, raspy snarl of the three big outboard engines behind them.
“This
is boring, man,” Juan Carlos said. “Why’s it been so lately?”
“I don’t know, but if it doesn’t turn around, the Texas Highway Patrol will probably cut some boats,” he said. “These things are so overkill, anyway. Lake patrols with .50 cal machine guns? I mean, I love this sucker, but c’mon.”
“Dude, this isn’t just a lake, it’s a border,” Juan Carlos said. “If these babies are scaring away the traffickers and the cartel guys, they’re worth it.”
“Hey, what’s that?” Brendan asked.
“What, dude?”
Brendan pointed. “That, dead ahead. Looks like a barge with a bunch of people on it.”
“Holy shit,” he said. “I’ll get the light on them.”
“Yeah, you do that. I’m gonna get on the starboard gun.”
“You mean the one we don’t need, man?” Juan Carlos asked.
“Yeah,” Brendan said sheepishly.
Juan Carlos flipped on the flood light, and gasped when he saw the size of the barge. “Shit man, that thing has a few hundred people on it.”
Suddenly the air filled with machine gun fire, and bullets hit the hull of their boat, bouncing off the armor.
“What the hell, dude?” Juan Carlos cried, stopping the engine and getting behind the other .50 cal. “Let ‘em have it.”
“You got it,” Brendan said, opening up, the flame from the muzzle suppressor over a foot long in the darkness. “Shit, that sounds like sheet metal. We’re gonna sink that thing in a hurry.”
“Stay behind the shield on that gun,” Juan said. “They’re still shooting at us.” He opened fire with the second gun, chopping away at the side of the barge. It listed to one side and started to sink, cries of panic floating over the water at them.
“That’s not Spanish, dude,” Juan Carlos said.
“Some of it was,” Brendan said. “I heard it.”
They could see the dark forms of men running onto the beach, then turning and firing at their patrol boat.
“Watch it,” Brendan shouted, turning his gun in that direction. “Those look like AK-47s.”
“Blast them, dude,” Juan Carlos said. “I’m gonna get a little closer.” He jumped into the driver’s seat and gave the three outboards some gas, the boat jumping on a plane as Brendan fired.
There was silence after a few minutes. People were holding onto the sinking barge or treading water near it. The beach was littered with bodies.
“Quite a few of them snuck away,” Brendan said. “Too damn dark out here. Call it in.”
“On it, dude. Stay on that .50 cal.” He picked the radio mic off the dash holder and pushed the button.
“Captain, you there? Over.”
There was a short pause, and then a click.
“He’s not here right now. This is Lieutenant Frazier. Who is this? Over.”
“Gonzales and Smith, on Falcon Reservoir. You ain’t gonna believe what just happened. Over.”
“Go ahead. Over.”
“We found a big barge with several hundred people on it near Arroyo Del Burro, heading for shore. When we put the floodlight on them and approached, they opened fire. Over.”
“What happened then? Over.”
“We opened fire and sunk the barge. There are survivors in the water. A bunch of men made it to the US shore and continued to fire upon us. Over.”
“There are several ground units in the area. I’ll get them there right away. Sit tight. Over.”
“They have military weapons. Over.”
“Dammit. I’ll let the men know. Over.”
“Over and out,” Juan Carlos said.
“Nobody moving on shore now,” Brendan said. “The barge is almost under water. Should we pick up survivors?”
“Not yet, the Lieutenant said to sit tight. They’re still armed. You can count on that. These guys aren’t your normal border crossers.”
“No shit,” Brendan said.
They sat watching silently for a moment, and then fire erupted from straight off the beach, hitting them broadside, bullets bouncing off the hull.
“Turn that spotlight over there,” Brendan said, turning his .50 cal in that direction.
There was another shot and a loud cracking noise.
“Dammit, dude, we lost an outboard.”
“Don’t worry about it. Get the spotlight turned and I’ll nail these assholes.”
Brendan fired the big .50 cal after Juan Carlos turned the light. Then Juan Carlos rummaged around under his seat, pulling out two sets of night vision goggles, sneaking up to Brendan and handing him one.
“Good idea,” Brendan said as he put them on. “Kill the light.”
Juan Carlos turned off the floodlight went to his gun. “I see them, dude. Back there behind those bushes.”
“Me too,” Brendan said as he pulled the trigger, watching several of the green figures in his goggles fall and others run.
“Keep on them,” Juan Carlos said as he fired away.
“We’re drifting to shore,” Brendan said. “Maybe we ought to fire up the other two engines.”
“No way. If they hit a gas line, we’ll have a fire. Just be ready if we beach. Keep an eye out for the bad guys. The ground units will be here any minute.”
Just as he said that, headlights approached.
“There’s three vehicles,” Juan Carlos said. “Damn, dude, there’s five more coming behind them. Look!”
“Yeah, I see it. That a chopper I hear coming?”
“Yeah, man.” Gunfire came at them from the middle of the lake. “Crap, small boat coming. They got some decent guns on that one.”
“That’s a fiberglass boat,” Brendan shouted. “Let’s see how it takes a few rounds from this baby.” He wheeled the big gun around and blasted the boat, splintering its hull. It stopped, and then exploded in flames.
“Bullseye!” Juan Carlos yelled. “Watch that side. I’ll watch this side.”
The chopper flew over their head, towards the Mexican side of the lake.
“Hell, that’s an Apache,” Brendan said. “That’s Federal. What are they doing here?”
“Something strange going on, dude. About half those vehicles are Texas State, the rest are ICE.”
The sky lit up with a big explosion on the Mexican side of the lake.
“Whoa, look at that!” Brendan shouted. “They blew something. Ammo dump, maybe?”
“Dude, why would there be an ammo dump over there?”
The sound of mini-guns filled the air. “They’re still attacking,” Brendan said. “Too far to see what’s going on with these goggles.” He took them off and looked. “Damn, that’s crazy. What’s up on your side?”
“Mopping up, taking prisoners on the beach,” Juan Carlos said.
The radio cracked to life. “Gonzales, you there? Over.”
Juan Carlos slipped back down into the driver’s seat and picked up the mic. “Yeah, lieutenant, the cavalry arrived. It’s not just us. ICE and a regular army attack chopper. What the hell is going on here? Over.”
“Can’t tell you over this line. Is your boat damaged? Over.”
“Yeah, we took a few rounds in one outboard. Over.”
“Which way you drifting? Over.”
“US side. Over.”
“Beach it and hitch a ride back with one of the Texas DPS vehicles. I’ve sent two more patrol boats to the area, but they won’t be there for another twenty minutes. Over.”
“Send us another engine and we’ll get this thing going in an hour. Over.”
“We’ll fix your boat, but the brass wants to debrief you right now. You’ll get your rig back tomorrow. Over.”
“Roger that. Better go. We’re almost on the beach. Over.”
“Be careful. Over and out.”
“You hear all of that?” Juan Carlos asked.
“Yeah. We’d better get our weapons. I’m not going on that beach without my rifle.”
“Way ahead of you, dude,” Juan Carlos said as their boat hit the sand
. They jumped out with ropes and pulled it up with all their might.
Chapter 4 – Closed Door Meeting
Jason and Kyle walked down the long hallway to the conference room, wearing their uniforms. It was a busy Friday morning, the Austin police station bustling with activity.
“Why does the brass want to talk to us?” Kyle asked. “I figured we’d have to talk to a lieutenant. Maybe even a captain. But the assistant chief?”
A group of men came out a doorway off the hall, entering the conference room suite ahead of them.
“Shit, the chief was with them,” Jason said. “Think he’s going to our meeting?”
“Might be,” Kyle said, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Think we’re in trouble?”
“We did nothing wrong,” Jason said.
They entered the suite, going through the first door on the left. Chief Ramsey sat at the head of the table, flanked by Police Commissioner Holly and the Assistant Chief Peterson. Sergeant Hank Jeffers was next to Peterson.
“Good morning, men,” Chief Ramsey said. “Sit down, and don’t be nervous. You aren’t in trouble.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jason said, sitting. Kyle nodded silently and sat next to Jason.
“First of all, fine work yesterday afternoon,” Chief Ramsey said. He was an overweight, burly man in his late 50s who looked two steps away from redneck, with a warm, broad smile.
“We didn’t do that much,” Jason said. “The citizens really won that battle.”
“Yeah, I was skeptical when open carry passed,” Chief Ramsey said. “It’s turned out much better than I expected. I’m surprised these creeps had the guts to attack. There aren’t many soft targets in Texas these days.”
“There are still gun-free zones,” Commissioner Holly said. He was a tall skinny man with a goatee and styled hair, stirring his coffee as he eyed the others in the room.
“True, Holly,” Chief Ramsey said. “There are still a few gun-free zones, mostly in Austin and Houston, but the locals are fighting them now, and this will add fuel to that fire; and that brings us to the reason for this meeting.”
“Uh oh,” Assistant Chief Peterson said, shifting in his seat. He was a short man with thick dark hair and bushy eyebrows, clean shaven and scrappy looking.
