Crisis Event: Jagged White Line

by Shows, Greg

  “Where’s that Geiger counter?” Blakely asked. “Back in that square?”

  Sadie started. She would have to be careful. Blakely was smarter than the general and his stooges.

  “Maybe,” Sadie said as she sat down in a chair next to her backpack. “I gave it to someone. He probably left after the attack.”

  “That’s kind of convenient, don’t you think?” Blakely said.

  “Not really,” Sadie said. “If you assholes had just told me what you wanted I could’ve walked in there and gotten it. Now she’s likely gone...who knows where?”

  “So it’s a she,” Blakely said. “Not a he.”

  Sadie remained silent, aggravated with herself for giving information away.

  “I think you know where he or she went, too.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “But I’m not telling you. Torture me all you want. You’ll just kill me anyway. I’ll tell you so many different stories you’ll never figure out which one’s the truth. You’ll never find her in Pennsylvania. Or was it West Virginia. Or was it North Carolina? Or Louisiana?”

  Blakely laughed.

  “You sure you want to play it like that? You’re right about those three. They’ll kill you and go after your friend—if they can. It doesn’t matter how many stories you tell. They’ll piece it together. They’re idiots, but they’re clever.”

  “Good to know how you really feel, Sergeant,” Titman said, re-entering the room with Mallick and Getter on his heels.

  One after another, Duck, Hider, and Meadowlark swung their rifles down to horizontal. They glanced at Blakely, who gave a nearly imperceptible head shake.

  Sadie saw all of this and realized there was an actual divide between the men in this outfit. The question for her quickly became: “How can I use this to stay alive?”

  She didn’t get to formulate an answer.

  “Maybe you’re just an innocent little girl who got tangled up in this thing,” General Titman said as he faced her.

  His cigar moved up and down between his lips as he spoke.

  “Or maybe you’re a terrorist bitch who means to destroy what remains of the U.S. government. Surely you can see my problem. How can I take your word for it when the future of the United States is in my hands? The fact that your grandmother was Palestinian...well that just complicates things more.”

  “Fuck you,” Sadie said. “My grandmother was so proud to be here she cried anytime she heard the national anthem.”

  Titman laughed.

  “Hell, girl,” he said, and pulled his unlit cigar out of his mouth. “I cry when I hear the national anthem, but that’s just because the people singing it are fucking it up so bad.”

  Mallick snickered, his head bouncing up and down, his eyes squeezing shut.

  “Sir?” Blakely said, but the general shook his head.

  Titman kept his gaze on Sadie, staring hard,

  “General,” Sadie said. “I’m just trying to get home.”

  A sudden burst of snickering made everyone in the room turn to Mallick.

  “I’m just trying to get home,” he squeaked with a high-pitched voice, then exploded with laughter. He squeezed his eyes closed and and bobbed his head as if he were hearing the most beautiful music ever written.

  “You shut up,” Blakely said, and stepped toward the torturer.

  “You wanna go?” Mallick snarled suddenly and dropped into a fighting stance.

  “Stand down, Sergeant!” Titman bellowed, and was surprised when Blakely actually did. Titman turned and nodded at Getter, who stepped forward with a black plastic box attached to a black nylon strap.

  “What’s this?”

  “You get the chance to prove you’re telling the truth,” Titman said.

  Blakely stood frozen, glancing from Getter to Mallick and back again, calculating the speed at which he’d need to move to kill Mallick before pulling his pistol or the knife he kept up his sleeve. His calculation was interrupted when Titman continued.

  “You’ll wear this monitor,” he said, “and get my Geiger counter. You do that and you walk free.”

  “But if you don’t” Mallick said, “we cut your tits off.”

  Then he cackled like he’d told the funniest joke in the history of the world.

  “No way,” Sadie said, standing tall. “You’ll just take it and kill us both. Right now you don’t even know what she looks like, and if she sees a convoy of Humvees she’ll hide. If you want that Geiger counter you’ll have to do it my way.”

  Blakely glanced at Sadie. He felt some undefined feeling form in his chest as he watched her face down Titman, a man who was ten inches taller, a hundred pounds heavier, and a whole lot crazier than her.

  He swallowed and turned away. Admiration was something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “I don’t see you’ve got much of a choice, Missy,” Titman said, his voice getting nearly as loud as it had been when he murdered Navarro.

  Sadie stared at Titman. Her guts were knotted and she felt like she was going to void her bowels. But she didn’t back down. She had come to understand the obligation you feel toward a person whose life you’ve saved. She’d always thought she’d understood that old saying. But her understanding had only been on an intellectual level.

  Now she felt it. She and Callie had a bond, and she would never do anything that could get Callie killed. Even if it meant Sadie had to suffer or die instead.

  Besides. These bastards had tortured and violated her. She wouldn’t cooperate willingly, no matter what was at stake. Forgive and forget so the U. S. government could be saved?

  No freaking way.

  She closed her eyes, said goodbye to Texas and her grandfather and parents, and yelled: “Fuck off, you limp-dick pervert. You torture girls because you can’t get it up and there’s no more Viagra around. And if the U.S. needs fuckheads like you to keep it alive, it should die.”

  Duck gasped.

  Hider and Meadowlark grinned.

  Mallick smirked and pulled the knife out of his sleeve.

  Titman crunched down so hard on his cigar he bit it in two. The long brown piece of rolled tobacco dropped from his lips, grazed his chest, and fell to the floor with a soft splat.

  “You—!” Titman said, his eyes going wide and his face flooding with so much blood every vein seemed to balloon out instantaneously. “You don’t—.”

  Blakely watched the general’s hand drop toward the pistol on his hip. He noted the way Duck had swung his rifle around to cover the raging general. He observed Getter going for his gun, and Mallick ready to strike with his knife. He knew the moment to intervene had come. He couldn’t let the woman die because Titman was too stupid to know he’d been goaded into killing the only person who could help him achieve his objective.

  Blakely slid between Titman and Sadie, facing the young girl.

  “I have a solution, Sir,” he said, his voice calm, his hands out to his sides.

  Blakely heard the general’s pistol slither out of its leather holster. He felt the general’s hand on his shoulder. A second later, a sharp shove spun Blakely around to face the general.

  “You insubordinate piece of trash!” Titman raged, but Blakely smiled. He’d succeeded in saving the girl’s life for the moment by diverting the general’s wrath.

  The general shoved his gun against Blakely’s throat.

  “I ought to put you up on that fucking table for a little drink!” he said.

  “That could be, Sir,” Blakely said, choosing his words carefully, trying to keep his voice calm. “But could you listen to my solution first, sir?”

  “I don’t need your fucking help,” Sadie said from behind Blakely. She was revelling in the rage that had come roaring up into her chest. It wasn’t often she gave into such powerful, out-of-control emotional states, but when she did, she had to admit the feeling could be sublime.

  “You shut up,” Titman yelled. “Before I cut your goddamned tongue out.”

  Blakely took a brea
th and glanced at the girl, trying to get her attention, to send the silent message: “Calm down. I’m on your side.”

  But the girl wouldn’t look at him. She’d gone into a basic fighting stance, her left leg forward, her right leg back as if she were about to launch a kick at someone.

  “Okay Sergeant,” Titman asked, lowering his pistol and stepping back. He crossed his arms and let the pistol hang loosely over the back of this elbow. “Before I shoot the both of you for insubordination, what’s your solution?”

  Chapter 3

  “Use the monitor, but send me with her,” Blakely said.

  “No way!” Sadie said. “I’m not going anywhere with him.”

  Blakely ignored her.

  “The monitor won’t be a hundred percent, sir. She could escape into a storm. Let me do the job but stay close enough to come if I need you.”

  Titman nodded.

  “Sound tactics, Sergeant,” Titman said. “It’s what I was planning all along.”

  “Of course, sir,” Blakely said.

  “I won’t do it,” Sadie said.

  Titman smiled.

  “Oh, you’ll do it,” he said. “Unless you want me to destroy that little trailer park you came riding out of last night. One RPG and it’s over.”

  Sadie ground her teeth. Logically, she knew that if Titman were to destroy the little community it would be his actions, not hers. But she couldn’t get herself to believe she wouldn’t feel guilty about it.

  “Fine,” she said, and let her shoulders drop, hoping she’d put the right amount of resignation into her gesture. In reality, she was glad to get Blakely alone. She’d have a better chance of making him pay for what he’d done.

  “Actually, it’s outstanding” Titman said. “Now pull those shorts off.”

  Instantly Sadie was back on guard, ready to fight.

  “Fuck you,” she said.

  Titman laughed and looked at Getter.

  “Someone get her some iodine and bandage her up,” Titman said as he headed for the door. “Can’t let our little hero get an infection. And check that monitor.”

  “I’ll do it,” Mallick said, giggling and clapping his hands together.

  “You’ll get the hell out of here,” Blakely said.

  “Mallick,” Titman said as he walked out of the room. “Come on.”

  Twenty minutes later Sadie was in her boots and parka, the ankle monitor secured around her leg. Her backpack was zipped and ready to go—minus her spare clothes, her pistol, rifle, combat knife, and the loose ammo she’d had in the bottom of the bag. She’d inventoried her possessions and discovered they’d let her keep her chemicals and her respirator. Blakely told her that when they’d recovered the Geiger counter and the hidden information inside it, she’d get her weapons back—along with twelve MREs.

  “Don’t promise what you can’t deliver, Sergeant Shitstain,” she sneered at Blakely. “Those psychos will kill us both when they get what they want.”

  “I can promise you they’re not going to kill you,” Blakely said, buttoning up the denim shirt he’d taken from someone’s closet upstairs. “Someone else might, but those three...nope.”

  He was wearing thick canvas cargo pants with deep pockets over thermal underwear, along with a pair of Adidas running shoes. A heavy black windbreaker hung to the middle of his thighs. The last touch was the black knit ski cap he pulled down over his ears. This wasn’t exactly the best tactical gear, but it would look like what he wanted it to look like—a civilian playing at being tactical.

  “Whether you believe it or not doesn’t matter,” he said. “My men and I will keep you safe, and when you get us the Geiger counter I’ll turn you loose myself.”

  “Give me my guns,” Sadie said.

  Blakely only stared at her.

  Sadie scowled.

  “You want it to look like I’m travelling with you by choice you have to give me guns. The people in the square saw me ride out with my rifle.”

  Blakely thought for a few seconds, then nodded.

  “All right,” he said. He unloaded her pistol and handed it to her. He did the same to her rifle, which was leaning against the wall.

  “Asshole,” she said, and Blakely smiled.

  Sadie suppressed her desire to kill him. It was time to turn cagey. To play along with these military meatheads and rapists. She stood impassively while Blakely pulled Duck aside and whispered to him. When Blakely asked if she was ready a few minutes later, she said “Let’s get this over with,” and walked out through the living room, where Titman sat smoking on the couch. Without a backward glance she stepped out into the dusty gray outdoors.

  Blakely followed her, turning to give the general a half-hearted salute as he stepped through the door. He watched Sadie trudge slowly forward, limping slightly on her left foot, and heard her sharp intakes of breath when she stepped wrong.

  He pushed his guilty thoughts away and tried to focus on keeping the girl safe.

  Sadie maintained silence during the twenty minute walk to the town square. She half-hoped the snipers watching their approach would put a slug through Blakely’s head. But no one fired.

  Blakely, seemingly oblivious to the danger he was in, walked along beside her in silence, scanning the streets around them.

  When they reached the place where the biker had crashed into the back of a car, Sadie slowed. The man’s body was still there, crushed between the bumper of the car he’d crashed into and the heavy motorcycle that had squashed him like an insect. Flies covered what was left of his face, and maggots were already deconstructing his body.

  “I thought the insects would’ve died off by now,” Blakely said.

  “Insects will inherit the earth,” she said. “Except for this human cockroach.”

  When they were thirty yards from the car maze someone shouted “Hands up!”

  Sadie stopped and put her hands up.

  Blakely did the same.

  “Hello!” she shouted,”It’s Sadie Halloman. I was here last night.”

  Seconds later the chief of police strode forward through the car maze. She threw out her arms and hugged Sadie.

  “Glad to see you,” May said. “We thought you were dead.”

  “I nearly was,” Sadie said.

  “We went after you, but when we found your bike and all those dead bikers, we couldn’t risk looking any further.”

  “It’s okay,” Sadie said, swallowing down her desire to point at Blakely and say, “you should kill him.”

  “You kill all those bikers?” May asked, and turned to Blakely.

  “Some of them, Ma’am,” he said.

  May smiled and held out her hand. Blakely took it.

  “We thank you,” May said. “They’ve been nothing but a plague. Now we can put an end to ‘em.”

  “Glad I could be of service, Ma’am,” Blakely said, and Sadie wanted to scream. She had to fight to keep a look of disgust from crossing her face. If May figured out what was happening, she and the whole community would be in danger.

  “Is Callie here?” Sadie asked.

  “Afraid not, honey,” May said. “She left early. Said she was going while the bikers were too fucked to function. Her words.”

  Sadie smiled.

  “You’re welcome to stay,” May said. “We could use you. Him too if he knows how to work hard and follow rules.”

  Sadie shook her head.

  “Thanks,” she said, “but I’ve got to find Callie.”

  May stared at Sadie.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked. “Why you all fired up to find Callie?”

  “Did she take the Geiger counter I gave her?” Sadie asked.

  “I guess so,” May said. “We haven’t found one.”

  “Good,” Sadie said. “I just wanted to make sure she took it. Mr. Blakely here says there’s some radiation where she’s heading. I’m worried about her.”

  “That right, Mr. Blakely?” May asked. Her hand had moved to the butt of h
er pistol, and now she was staring at the sergeant.

  “It is,” Blakely said. “You’ve got to be careful these days. Carelessness is a real killer.”

  “Amen to that,” May said, and Sadie shuddered. She realized she needed to get away from the square. As long as she was tangled up with Blakely and Titman, anyone she knew was in danger.

  “I guess this is goodbye, then” Sadie said. “Thanks for your hospitality last night.”

  “You’re welcome,” May said. “You ever get the urgent feeling you just ought to come back here, you do it.”

  “All right,” Sadie said, and led Blakely away from the town square.

  Chapter 4

  “We should find bicycles,” Sadie said from beneath her respirator. “Or motorcycles.”

  “No,” Blakely said. They were two miles east of Shanksborough, traveling back the way Sadie had come less than forty-eight hours earlier. Behind them, the little town was disappearing below the crest of a hill. All Sadie could see when she looked back was the curve of the hill and the wall of black clouds shot through with white veins of lightning.

  “Why not?” Sadie asked. She stopped and stared at Blakely through her face shield. “You afraid to ride?”

  Blakely lifted his own respirator.

  “I can’t track from a bike,” he said. “I don’t want to lose her. And I don’t want the general thinking we’ve run off. We’ll catch up to her by tomorrow morning as long as we keep on after dark.”

  “I won’t be out after dark,” Sadie said, both hands on her hips. She lifted an arm and pointed back at the distant storm. “We need shelter.”

  “That’s what abandoned cars are for,” Blakely said. The most important thing is catching this girl.”

  He wasn’t worried about finding five star accommodations. The girl’s tracks were clean and easy to follow, and there was no way he was going to stop.

  He was willing to walk in bad weather and stumble around at night.

  The sooner he got the package, the sooner he could leave the general in his rearview mirror.

  Or kill him, if it came to it.

  He’d already made the decision. When they retrieved Titman’s package, he wouldn’t take another order from the man.