Renegade - 13

by Joe Nobody

  Some of the men were openly hostile, questioning the facts and observations Abe had reported. Abe knew his friends didn’t mean anything by the attitude; they were simply frightened out of their wits.

  “Gentlemen, please,” the preacher stated at one point, trying to calm the tone. “Abe Sanders has been a member of this community since before most of you were born. I don’t recall a single incident where this man has ever told a lie or exaggerated the truth. Please, extend him the courtesy he deserves.”

  For another hour, the debate raged within the house of worship, tempers occasionally flaring when inevitable disagreements persisted. The revelation was all so much to digest and yet had the potential to destroy all that they knew.

  Finally, it was decided that the town of Mineral Wells would react with two concurrent actions. First, they would send an emissary to Fort Worth that very afternoon. The preacher, along with two of the church’s elders, would travel to the mall and relate the town’s neutrality. “We will promise them our community will not interfere or become involved in any way,” the pastor stated. “We will assure them that they have nothing to fear from us.”

  That sentiment, however, didn’t play with the majority of the attendees. Mineral Wells had voted overwhelmingly for Diana, and the fact that Cyrus was forming an Army to storm Alpha didn’t sit well with many of the younger people.

  As the pastor and his envoy prepared to leave, pickup trucks were already speeding off to warn others, and to spread the word to surrounding communities. There would be a regional call for help, the message being clear: If Mineral Wells falls, other towns will soon follow.

  Abe surprised himself. Despite considering himself a peaceful, Christian man, his heart was with those who wanted to defend not only Mineral Wells but the Alliance’s current leadership as well.

  He’d never been a political person and wasn’t overly fond of Diana’s policies or results. Yet, one fact remained undisputed – Cyrus was forming an Army of invasion, a force that intended on laying waste to the countryside. The man had to be stopped.

  As the crowd dispersed, Abe found himself picturing the advancing Army from Fort Worth. They would have to take I-20; there was no other route that would support their movement. Or was there?

  At best, Mineral Wells could muster 400 men, many of whom only had hunting rifles or shotguns at their disposal. Even among those, the majority possessed a handful of ammunition. Against a rolling juggernaut over 10,000 strong, they would represent a bloody blip on Cyrus’s radar.

  The visual of an attacking hoard, marauding through the tiny town, nauseated him. He could just see the burning, looting, and pillaging in progress. He imagined an endless convoy of trucks, semis, and military vehicles driving through “the tunnel,” on their way to extinguish every small town between Dallas and Alpha.

  That thought planted an idea in Abe’s mind, a seed of hope beginning to form. “I need to talk to Jacob,” he whispered, pulling out of the church’s lot. “He fought in the first Gulf War and knows more about these things than I do.”

  Chapter 21

  Late that afternoon, the preacher returned to Mineral Wells – or at least what was left of him did.

  For the second time that day, the church bell summoned the people to the First Baptist chapel. Seeing the faded green Chrysler in the parking lot, many of the arriving parish hoped that peace had been made, that the diplomatic envoy had been successful.

  Those hopes were soon dashed.

  At the front of the church, the badly beaten and tortured bodies of the two elders were being wrapped in sheets. Curious onlookers were told to stay away unless they wanted a lifetime of nightmares to haunt their sleep. The preacher wasn’t in much better condition.

  Abe arrived to find the pastor receiving medical attention, the soprano section leader trying to get him to drink while another choir member gently spread a salve on his many lacerations and welts. The man had taken a horrendous amount of punishment.

  Looking up at Abe, he managed to croak, “They are Godless demons, full of hatred and vile. They fully intend to kill us all in the most abhorrent manner possible.”

  The farmer sighed, his worst fears confirmed. “How did you escape, Padre?”

  Lifting a shaking hand, the preacher pointed toward an Asian man standing in the corner. “He saved me. I don’t know how or why, but he overpowered the guards and got me out.”

  The effort seemed to exhaust the preacher even further, his swollen and bruised lips trembling from pain. Abe nodded to the ladies to continue their aid and then left to speak with the stranger.

  Pressing his open palm to his chest, he offered an introduction. “I’m Abe. Thank you for bringing back our people … the effort is much appreciated, sir.”

  “People call me Pug,” the stone-faced Asian replied. “Your comrades are brave … but foolish. I’m lucky to have gotten them away without all of us being killed.”

  “I have to ask,” Abe continued. “I mean no offense, but these are troubling times. Why? Why did you risk your life to save the preacher?”

  The initial answer was a shrug, then, after a pause, more. “I was sent by the Alliance to gather information on Governor Young’s men and plans. I needed transportation out of Fort Worth, and your friend’s car was handy. It was really a matter of opportunity intersecting with circumstance.”

  “I see,” Abe replied, not knowing whether to believe the stranger or not. “Thank you for that act of mercy,” he responded, this time holding out his hand as an offering.

  Pug winced when he stirred to accept the handshake, the movement exposing a growing red stain on the Korean’s shirt.

  “You’re hurt?” Abe asked.

  “It is a scratch,” Pug replied, obviously still in pain. “A bullet grazed my ribs as we were making our escape. I’ll be fine. Now, I must ask if I can have some gasoline. Your pastor has recommended I take his car, but there’s no fuel. I must get to Meraton and report my findings before it’s too late.”

  Abe turned and glanced at the burgeoning crowd. “I’ll see if we can get you some fuel. In the meantime, why don’t you go have those ladies patch up that wound? You’re losing a lot of blood, and Meraton is a long drive.”

  The Korean inspected the expanding stain on his shirt, finally nodding agreement. “Thank you.”

  On the back stairs, Abe and several of the men gathered. One by one, they listed the nearby towns, and how many fighters each promised to deliver if the pastor’s proposal wasn’t accepted.

  Abe added up the numbers and knew it wasn’t going to be enough. “We would be 1,000, maybe a bit more if everyone’s balls were as big as their mouths,” he spouted. “I’m telling you they have ten times that number … with better weapons and training. We don’t stand a chance in a stand-up fight.”

  Most of the other men merely nodded, some staring away, the direction of others’ gazes slipping to the ground. “What do you want us to do, Abe? Turn tail and run? Hide in the woods? Abandon our homes and property to be looted and burned?”

  “No,” the old farmer responded. “But I’ve been talking to Jacob, and we might have an idea. If we’re going to have a chance, it’s going to take brains, organization, and a bit of skullduggery.”

  “What do you have in mind?” someone from the edge asked.

  All eyes turned to see Pug listening at the edge of the gathering.

  “Who are you?” asked one of the bolder locals.

  “His name is Pug, and he works for the Alliance in Alpha. He saved the pastor’s life today,” Abe responded. “We need to give him some gasoline so he can go and warn Alpha what is headed their way.”

  Ignoring Abe’s remarks, the Korean stepped deeper into the crowd. “If you are going to fight Young’s militia, I might be able to help,” he said, pulling three folded pages from his pocket. “I managed to make off with their battle plan … or at least the important parts of it.”

  Abe and several of the locals exchanged knowing smiles. “N
ow we’re talking skullduggery,” the farmer smirked. “Welcome to Mineral Wells, Pug.”

  A knock at Bishop’s door and the Texan bolted upright. He’d just rescued his share of the covers from a snoozing Terri and nestled his head on the pillow. Guess I’ll count those sheep another time, he mused.

  “Yeah,” he whispered through the door.

  Grim’s low voice answered. “Pug just got back. He’s been shot. Just a scrape. He’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll meet you guys out in the gardens in a minute. Get the rest of the team, would

  ya?”

  “Already on it, boss.”

  Bishop turned to see Terri sitting up in bed. “Everything okay?” she mumbled with a sleepy tone.

  “Yes. Pug just returned. I’m going to go find out what he learned,” Bishop answered, pulling on his pants.

  “Do you need anything from me?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. Get some rest and snuggle my son. I’ll be back in a few hours,” he replied.

  “No problem there,” she yawned, diving back under the covers. “Night, my love.”

  The Texan found Pug and Grim waiting at a table, The Manor’s gardens a serene, if not ironic backdrop to what was surely going to be a council of war.

  Bishop shook hands with the Korean, and then the men sat. Butter, rubbing his eyes, was the last to arrive. “Sorry,” the big kid muttered. “I was dreaming about….”

  “We don’t want to know,” Grim interrupted. “Sit down and get your shit in one bag, son. This is important.”

  Pug began the debriefing with his typical monotone recount. He had ridden his bike to Dallas, infiltrated the militia’s organizational structure, and gathered significant information. The Korean downplayed his role in rescuing the Mineral Wells preacher but went into some detail about the small town’s plans to put up a fight.

  “I recommended that they retreat and join forces with the irregulars mustering in Abilene, but they seem intent on defending their homes and farms,” Pug stated.

  He then produced the three pages of battle plans he’d managed to steal from Cyrus’s mall headquarters. “I pretended I was a member of their cleaning crew. I picked this up from an officer’s desk and put it in the trash can I was pushing. Just like those spies in those B-rated, Hollywood movies.”

  Bishop studied the documents for nearly 10 minutes, and then proclaimed, “We need to get these to Nick as soon as possible.”

  Grim glanced at Kevin and asked, “How’s your dad doing, by the way?”

  “He’s meaner than ever,” Kevin replied, shaking his head. “This whole affair with SAINT Six has sliced a hunk out of humanity out of dad’s soul.”

  Bishop’s nod confirmed that he agreed. “I feel sorry for Captain K if the big guy ever gets his hands on that traitor.”

  “I’ll run the papers over,” Kevin offered, rising from his seat. “If dad’s asleep, he won’t kill me for waking him up.”

  They all watched the team’s marksman rush off, and then Bishop started firing questions. “Can we get to SAINT Six at this shopping mall you described?”

  “No,” sounded Pug’s firm answer. “They are surrounded by 10,000 loyal troops. Cyrus moves around a lot, always accompanied by the four SAINT bodyguards. He uses them for counsel, especially the captain, on military matters.”

  “Where does Cyrus sleep?”

  “He converted one of the abandoned stores in the mall to private quarters. You can’t get near it without passing through at least two checkpoints. SAINT Six has cots there as well.”

  Bishop was rubbing his chin, “So, wherever Cyrus goes, SAINT Six follows. That means we have to draw the governor out … make him go someplace where he’s vulnerable…. Less protected.”

  “Will he deploy with his militia?” Grim asked.

  “My read is that he will, although I’m not so sure how close he’ll get to the actual fighting. Cyrus has recruited a handful of retired military officers who are loyal to his cause, but I don’t think he trusts them 100%. One thing is for certain; he learned a valuable lesson from the battle at Horsehead Gulch. Don’t expect them to be nearly as reckless going forward.”

  “We hurt them,” Bishop nodded, now not feeling so bad about the event.

  “More importantly, you embarrassed Cyrus,” Pug added. “I get the feeling that he isn’t worried one iota about how many graves are needed, he only wants to win and at all costs.”

  The meeting wore on for another hour, Bishop eventually realizing they were getting nowhere. There wasn’t any good option, no plan that even had a reasonable chance of success. Finally, he called an end to it, noting Pug’s increasing frequency of yawns. “Let’s reconvene in the morning; you have to be beat,” he said, patting the Korean on the shoulder. “Really good work. If the whole program wasn’t about to be scrapped, I’d recommend you for a spot on a SAINT team.”

  Bishop returned to his room, trying to slink through the door so as not to disturb Terri. His ploy didn’t work.

  “How did it go?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “Well, it could have gone better. That’s for sure,” sounded his dejected voice. “We still don’t have a plan to bring down SAINT Six.”

  She sensed his frustration, sitting up again stretching. “Pug didn’t bring you any good … what do you call it? Intel?”

  “Oh, he went above and beyond. That’s not the problem,” Bishop replied, pulling off his boots. “There just isn’t a good course of action to get at those guys. They’ve managed to surround themselves with an Army that’s preparing to deploy.”

  She moved to him, scooting across the bed and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Tell me about it,” she whispered in his ear. “Just don’t get so mad that you wake up Hunter.”

  For a second, Bishop thought she was only trying to be nice. One glance into her eyes showed him that wasn’t the case. It might help, he thought. A fresh set of eyes and all that.

  For one thing, Terri was brilliant, never ceasing to amaze him with her creativity. Secondly, she didn’t look at things tactically like everyone else in his circle. “You sure?” he asked. “It’s late.”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to help. Tell me. What did Pug discover on his little spy adventure?”

  As he began replaying what he’d just learned, Terri moved to the center of the bed. Sitting cross-legged, she gave him her full attention, hanging on every detail.

  When he’d finished, she asked only a few questions for clarification.

  “This is easy,” she said, waving her hand through the air in a dismissive motion. “You guys with all your firepower, rules of engagement, and strategic analysis are missing the most important factor in this equation.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re thinking about maneuver, order of battle, and a host of other crap, trying to solve a simple problem – when and where can you get SAINT Six in a compromising position. The answer is Mineral Wells … after it falls.”

  Bishop didn’t know if she was still half-asleep, or if he was just a hard-headed idiot. He went with the latter. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but you’re going to have to spell this out for me using little words.”

  She laughed, reaching across the bed to take his hand. “Cyrus has narcissistic personality disorder. He is a megalomaniac. He is desperate for power and sees it is within his grasp. What will he do if Mineral Wells falls?”

  “Move on to the next objective?”

  Shaking her head, Terri responded, “No. He will want to gloat. He will want to tour the conquest. He will want to stomp around on the ashes and see firsthand the results of his loyal followers. His sick response is all very predictable. It’s Psychology 101.”

  Bishop recalled what he knew of Cyrus’s movements after past victories. According to Grim and Sheriff Watts, the candidate had shown up the day after the robbery at Moss Ridge. Was he gloating as Terri predicted?

  Then there was his speech in San Antonio after the
bombing. Pug had been there, and the Korean’s warning had saved Meraton. Had Cyrus returned to celebrate?

  The two attempted robberies that Bishop barely managed to foil hadn’t been victories – no need to return to the scene of the crime in triumph. The Texan had no way of knowing about the drug den in the Panhandle – or did he?

  “Do you still have a copy of Cyrus’s campaign schedule?” he asked his wife.

  “On my computer. We used to keep track of his whereabouts so we wouldn’t be in the same place at the same time.”

  “Mind if I see it?”

  Nodding, Terri rolled off the bed and retrieved her laptop. A minute later, she flipped the computer around to show her husband.