by Hunt, Jack
Silence stretched before them.
“Oh stop playing the victim card. You’re better than that!”
She spun around and glared.
“We don’t get to choose how we feel but we can choose who to be with. The question is who? Who do you choose to be with, Sara? And why? Because if it’s with Landon, then so be it. But just be honest. Honest with me, honest with him, but most importantly, honest with yourself. If you can live with that choice, then I can I live with that. Hell, I’ve lived with it for years. I think I can continue.”
The door opened and Tess stuck her head in. “Morning, sweetheart. You hungry?”
Her eyes darted between them and a look came over her as if she knew she’d interrupted something personal. “I’ll be right there,” Sara replied. She headed over to the door, placed her hand on the handle and without looking at him said, “I’ll bring you something.”
And like that she exited.
He wanted an answer but right now she couldn’t give it as there was far more at stake. Down in the dining room, Sam drank coffee and sat with Tess and Rita chatting.
“Where did you get the food?”
“It was already here.”
“Left over from the militia,” Sam said. “They were here for a while.”
She nodded and reached for a can of peaches. “Speaking of the militia. I’ve been thinking. Can’t you go speak with them, Sam?”
“If they wanted to help they wouldn’t have left.”
“He just lost his brother. I think you should cut him some slack.”
Tess snorted nearly spitting out her coffee. Rita handed her a napkin and stifled a smile. “Besides, he wouldn’t listen. It wasn’t me who got him to help last time, it was Max.”
“Max?”
Sam lifted his eyes as he refilled his cup. “That’s right. You have him to thank.”
Sara felt a wave of guilt wash over her for coming down on him so hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“A little busy, I guess. I figured Max would.”
She shook her head and stuck a fork into the can. “Anyway, are you going to speak to Ray?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Because his group managed to drive them out last time.”
Sam sat back in his seat and sipped his coffee. “It was different last time. There weren’t as many and they weren’t trained like the military now occupying Castine.”
Sara threw up a hand. “Well we can’t stay here.”
He set his cup down. “We might have to.”
“It’s not that bad, I guess,” Tess said. “Certainly a beautiful home.”
Sara stared back at both of them. “Are you out of your mind? Castine is home. Not here.”
“Look, I know you’re eager to go home but we’ve all had to let go of the past in one way or another. Maybe it’s time you did too.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m just saying, this country has changed. We need to change with it.”
She put the can down and headed for the door but not before scooping up a rifle.
“Where you going?”
“To speak with Ray.”
A chair screeched as Sam got up. “Hold up, Sara,” he said as she exited the house and headed for the south side where the boat was docked. “You’ll get yourself killed going over there.”
“We’ll die if we stay here. I won’t have that asshole drive me out of my home. I have as much right to stay as anyone else.”
“Look, just give me time to come up with a plan.”
She spun around and jabbed a finger at him. “We don’t have time, Sam. Landon is over there. Max is missing. And Beth has gone charging in like a bull in a china shop. Meanwhile we’re sitting here playing happy families. If Ray won’t listen to you, he sure as hell will listen to me.”
Sam called back to the house. “Tess, get my gun.”
Sara didn’t wait for him. She could hear him telling her to hold up. That he would go with her. This wasn’t a ploy, a means of getting him to take action, she just couldn’t stand around anymore. It didn’t take her long to reach the boat. After she boarded, Sam came running down the dock waving at her. “Hold up. You can’t go anywhere without the keys,” he said jangling them.
She put her hand out and he pulled back, closing his fingers around them.
Sara wiggled her fingers at him. “Come on, Sam, stop messing around.”
“Carl is out of it, Jake is injured. I’m not having you put yourself in danger.”
“Well that’s very noble of you except I can handle myself.”
“I never said you couldn’t. But that’s the reason why I need you to stay. I can’t rely on Tess or Rita. If Bennington shows up here and both of us are gone, they won’t stand a chance. Let me go and speak with Ray. You stay. Besides, Max could show up. I’m sure you want to be here when he does.”
A hard wind blew in, waves lapped up against the boat causing it to rock. Sara gripped a line to steady herself. She got out of the boat and made her way over to him. “Don’t let us down, Sam.”
“You’re alive because I haven’t,” he said passing her and hopping into the boat.
His arrival in Belfast was as expected. A large group of people, some of which were Ray’s men, were there to meet him on the dock, armed and bellowing for him to identify himself before he even got close enough to moor. Once the boat was secured and they were satisfied that he wasn’t a threat, he was quickly strong-armed to a restaurant a short distance away called the Lookout Bar & Grill.
Ray was seated at the bar by himself when Sam was brought in. They locked eyes in the mirror behind the bar. The stench of alcohol permeated the air. “Sam Daniels. Pull up a seat. Have a drink.” He reached over the bar and grabbed another small whiskey glass and filled it up with some bourbon. Sam looked back at one of Ray’s guys who had given him a shove.
“You should teach your men to treat people better.”
“Oh, they’re just a little irritated. Don’t mind them. Come. Sit. Drink.”
Inside, it was a typical bar with tables dotted around the cramped space. Stools were on top of tables but a few were out in front of the bar. He took a seat and Ray slid the glass over, some of the liquid spilled as he’d filled it to the brim. One whiff of him and Sam could tell he’d had one too many. “No thanks.”
“Refusing a drink?” He tutted then downed Sam’s. “No point letting it go to waste.”
“What are you doing, Ray?”
“Living. Living it up. And you? How’s it going over on… what’s it called?”
“Castine?”
He clicked fingers. “That’s it.”
“I wouldn’t know, Bennington and the military drove us out.”
He chuckled. “Ah,” he waved his hand as if swatting a fly. “The writing was on the wall.” Ray poured another drink and knocked it back.
“You not going to ask me why I’m here?” Sam asked.
Ray turned in his seat with a wild smile. “Sure. Okay. Why are you here, Sam?” he said finding the question amusing. “Actually don’t tell me. I know. You want advice on dealing with Teresa. She’s wiggled her way into your bed. Isn’t that right?”
“You’re drunk.”
He raised his glass. “That I am! And it’s glorious.” He burst out laughing. “Seriously, smile, Sam. Drink. Be merry. For our days are numbered.”
“And there was us thinking you could help. You can barely help yourself.” Sam got off the stool. “Lee would be humiliated.”
“Don’t you dare drop my brother’s name.”
Sam turned, and smiled. “Ah, the old Ray is still in there. You know, Ray, you can drink yourself into a stupor but you can’t hide from yourself. You want to sit here and drown in your sorrow. Go ahead. But know that we’ve all lost someone. We’ve all been affected by this blackout but back there…” He pointed in the general direction. “People were relying on you.”
He scoffed. “Relying. They wan
ted my head. You heard them. I was to blame.”
“Can’t you see Bennington set you up? He set us all up and now all that effort from you, Lee, your men was for nothing.” Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Do you know Max looked up to you? And now look at you. You’re a sorry state of a man. Hiding behind liquor.”
Ray got up and staggered over jabbing his finger into Sam’s chest. “You don’t know me. I don’t owe you or anyone, anything!” he cried, raising his voice.
“Then you should take that uniform off and go out there and tell your guys that it’s over. You’ve thrown in the towel. Called it quits and want to be left alone to drink yourself into an early grave. Or better still… wait for Bennington and his crew to show up and put you in the grave.”
Ray gritted his teeth and swung at him. Sam leaned back and Ray shot by him, losing his balance and landing on the floor. “Man, you’re a mess. Maine Militia. More like sad sacks of shit.”
Ray roared, scrambled to his feet and charged at Sam trying to tackle him to the floor. But it was a pathetic attempt by someone who could hardly stand let alone fight. Sam threw him into a table and the chairs on top clattered to the floor. A few of Ray’s men burst in with their rifles at the ready but Ray lifted a hand. “No. Get out!”
They stood there for a second, their gaze bouncing from Sam to Ray before they exited. Again Ray rose. This time he removed his jacket, took off his duty belt and rolled up the sleeves on his undershirt.
“That’s it. Get angry,” Sam said urging him on. He needed someone to push his buttons and get him to snap out of feeling sad for himself. There would be time to grieve later but this wasn’t it. Ray cried out again and swung wildly, each time nearly losing his footing. Sam didn’t need to lay one hand on him. His drunken forward momentum and inaccuracy kept him from striking Sam. His body crashed into another table, then another. It was only once Sam threw him over the bar and glasses shattered did he decide he’d had enough.
Sam took a seat at the bar and looked over. Ray looked up at him, his hand cut, and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “I think I’ll have that drink now,” he said pouring one. Ray looked at him and started to laugh. Sam joined him.
“You are one crazy asshole, Daniels.”
“Likewise. Now shall we talk?”
Ray wiped his lip with the back of his hand and nodded. “Tell me more.”
17
Bennington relaxed on the back of a horse at the north end of the town where the roads, Shore and Castine intersected. The rays of the morning sun warmed his face as he and the colonel waited for Harris to arrive. He fished into his upper pocket and retrieved a small tin of finger length cigars and offered one to Lukeman. He declined.
He couldn’t wait to see the look on Harris’ face when he realized that everything was going to plan. Of course he probably told his colleague Brooke Stephens that the colonel was responsible, that’s why he planned on making sure she knew the truth.
“You really think it’s going to work, Bennington?” Lukeman asked as he adjusted himself on the saddle. “Because I’ve seen how these things can go south really quick.”
“Like?”
“While out in the Middle East. Rules of engagement and whatnot.”
“Well the only rules of engagement here are the ones that get results, and look around you, Lukeman… who’s running the show now?”
“A little full of yourself, don’t you think?”
Bennington cast him a sideways glance. “The results speak for themselves. Besides, don’t worry, we have eyes on Landon as we speak. He’s bound to lead us to the others or attract them back to Castine and when he does, we will be there to take the rest.”
Lukeman shook his head and leaned forward on his horse. “I dunno, sounds like you are banking on too many things working in your favor,” he said patting the horse. Before Bennington could reply, a plume of dust could be seen in the distance. Two military Humvees were approaching. The sun’s light made him squint as he cupped a hand over his eyes.
“Heads up, colonel.”
Time to watch Harris squirm.
The small convoy of vehicles made its way toward the checkpoint. The two Humvees came to a stop ten yards from the checkpoint. A soldier hopped out the passenger side and opened the door for Harris. He stepped out looking less than confident. Harris muttered something and Stephens got out, her hair blowing in the wind as she motioned to them and they both walked over.
Bennington and Lukeman dismounted.
“Ms. Stephens, this is Colonel Lukeman and our latest addition to the crew — Mick Bennington. A local of Castine, and a valuable asset to the cause.”
She extended a hand and Bennington shook it.
“It’s a pleasure.”
“I’ve heard a lot of good things about you,” she said.
“Well…”
Before he could tell her, Harris butted in and cut in front of him. “As you can see from the checkpoint, we have already taken back one of the towns. How many casualties, colonel?”
“Very few, sir.” He puffed out his chest and Bennington frowned. He could see where this was going. Harris and Lukeman were acting like he hadn’t been responsible for the success of retaking Castine.
“Thanks to myself,” Bennington said, making sure to give credit where credit was due. He shouldered past Harris to make it clear that he was in his neck of the woods now and if Harris thought he was going to be the alpha, he was mistaken. “I would love to share with you, Ms. Stephens, how I managed to achieve this.” He turned to the colonel. “Of course with the military’s assistance.” He wasn’t foolish enough to push the colonel to one side, especially since he had high hopes of using him in the future.
Harris made a final attempt at dominating the situation. He lifted his hand and waved it in front of Bennington as if he was some annoying fly. “I don’t think Ms. Stephens has the time to listen but…”
“Actually I would be interested in hearing about it,” she said cutting Harris off. Bennington smiled. There was nothing better than seeing that worm shrivel back into his shell. He couldn’t wait for the day he could put a bullet in his head and be done with it but that would come in time. First, he had to deal with the militia, Landon and those who would try and put a wrinkle in his plans.
“Well that’s good. Come, let’s head back to the vessel. I’ll tell you all about it and how we are planning on dealing with the remaining militia in Belfast.”
She raised a brow. “You’ve discovered where they are?”
“Of course,” he said, looking back at Harris. “We’re not fools. In fact as we speak we are tightening the noose around those who have resisted.”
Brooke looked back at Harris and he went red in the face. “Like I said, he’s a valuable asset.”
Bennington snorted. They waited for them to get back into the Humvee before leading them through a town of soldiers. While galloping toward the dock he got on the radio to find out from Sonny what the update was on Landon. The radio crackled.
“Tell me you have good news?”
“He didn’t stay at home for long, sir.”
“But he led you to Daniels?” Bennington asked.
“No. He is on route to Benjamin Willis’ home.”
“Willis?”
“Yes sir.”
He frowned. Lukeman looked at him. “Problem?”
“No.” He smiled back but inwardly he was confused. Why would Landon head over to see him unless of course Daniels was being hidden by Benjamin. But why would he do that? He’d got word from one of his informers that Benjamin had shown up irate at the town hall meeting. His stomach sank but he kept a poker face as he got back on the radio. He couldn’t let Lukeman see weakness. The truth was he knew he was taking a risk releasing Landon but in order to bring about the change he wanted, it was going to take more than roughing up a few locals. They needed to feel like he had their backs, their best interests at heart. Once they were working together he would pull the
rug out from beneath them.
“Keep a close eye on them. Update me if he goes anywhere else. And Sonny. Keep your distance. I don’t want him knowing we’re watching.”
“You got it, boss.”
Landon was going out on a limb. He saw how pissed Benjamin was with those who agreed with the presence of militia. But if they were to take back Castine they would need as much help as they could get. That began by smoothing out issues and telling him the truth of who was actually responsible for the home invasions.
He expected to find a group of armed people outside, waiting to push back any threats but instead he found Benjamin cleaning up the mess in his home. His wife, Sue, answered the door. She and Sara had been friends for years. Her involvement with the community food drop to help those less fortunate had given them something in common. “Landon. Everything okay?” she asked.
“Fine. Is Benjamin in?”
“Yeah, he’s out back. Come on in.” He stepped on broken glass. “Sorry about the mess. We’re still trying to clean up after those thugs invaded.”
He nodded but said nothing. What could he say? Besides, his home was in a similar state. Bennington and the soldiers had riddled the walls with rounds and destroyed the windows. If it wasn’t summer they would be in serious trouble.
The home they lived in was modest. Benjamin worked at a restaurant in town and so he wasn’t exactly rolling in money but like many who didn’t have much, he and Sue were kind people. That’s why his outburst at the town hall meeting caught him off guard. He was known for being peaceful, funny, a real laid-back guy with a dry sense of humor.
Landon could hear hammering in the back. “He’s boarding up the windows.”
He looked into the living room and felt sorry for them. Furniture was torn apart, framed photos on the floor, décor that may have held sentimental value was smashed. There was thousands of dollars’ worth of damage.
“You holding up okay?” he asked. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“I took one to the face,” Sue said.
“Right.”
“Benjamin. Landon is here.”
