“Yeah,” Bradley said and opened the hallway door.
He moved aside kids overcoats until he located a dull black, zip up jacket he hadn’t worn in a few years. Bradley pulled it off the hanger and handed it to Chris.
Chris slid into the jacket and affixed the holstered Beretta Nano near the front of his jeans, with the butt pointing to the right.
“I’ll knock three times, then two, then three. My challenge word will be endeavor. Say that.”
“Endeavor,” Bradley repeated.
“I’ll be back in fifteen to twenty minutes. If I don’t come back, stay here until the morning. Don’t come looking for me,” Chris said.
Monica moved through the hallway, stepped around them, and went to Jenny’s bedroom. She woke the girl, and then ushered her out of her bedroom.
Chris went to the back door and peered outside. He undid the security bar that was jammed under the doorknob and ran at an angle to butt against the floor. Bradley had created brackets to bar the door higher up that would help deflect an intruder from the window. With the help of the 3M security film, it was the best it was going to be at keeping out bad guys, short of nailing plywood over the entry way.
Chris nodded once at Bradley, and then the man opened the back door and slipped out. Bradley replaced the security bar and shot the bolt home. He moved to the kitchen window that overlooked the backyard. Chris became an indistinct shape that moved quickly to the edge, slipped through some waist high hydrangea plants, and then was gone from sight. His path would take him along Andy’s backyard. He hoped his neighbor didn’t have some kind of security system that Chris could trigger. Andy was so high strung, Chris could be staring down the barrel of Andy’s Remington if he wasn’t careful.
“Brad!” Monica yelled.
He moved down the hallway, brushed past Jenny, who put her arms up. He put his hands under her arms and scooped her up so she could straddle his waist.
“Is everything okay, Daddy?” She breathed next to his ear.
“I hope so, honey. Besides, I’ll protect you, right?”
“Yeah.” She said.
Monica came out of Junior’s room, eyes wide, hands to her head. She spun and looked back in his room.
“What’s wrong? Junior? Everything okay?”
“He’s not here,” Monica said.
Chapter Thirty
Chris skirted Bradley’s yard. He had assumed his latest persona as Chris, concerned citizen of the United States of America, a few weeks ago, and planned to stick with it for the time being. He had no interest in being Bradley’s friend. That was a temporary condition he would drop when the time was right. Now that the cell phones had been cut, and the chaos was spreading into rural areas, it was probably time to act on that plan.
Christ, but he missed his regular load out, the Heckler and Koch VP9, and his backup, a Glock 26 Gen 3. But the Beretta Nano had become a decent enough weapon and had come in handy as well. His gear had presumably been confiscated when the killers, led by Lawson, had tried to take him out at the safe house.
If this ever blew over, Chris was going to make it his mission in life to hunt Lawson down and put a bullet in the man’s head.
It was happening quicker than he had anticipated. The chaos, the run on goods, and now he was curious who was openly discharging firearms on the street. Was it a threat that would compromise him? Was it a bunch of kids blowing off steam since there were no police to be found? Andy was an asshole, but Chris had overheard him telling Bradley that he had stopped by the police station the morning before to drop off the security footage showing the attack on Bradley’s house. Then reported that there was no one there and that there were no police cruisers in the parking lot.
He still couldn’t believe he had killed a man, and the police hadn’t even asked him a single question. Well, this was what they wanted. Complete control of the country and all of its citizens. This had been brewing under several administrations, and now it was becoming a reality. The country had no money, and it had been kept under wraps that China had begun to call in its debts. With a divided Congress, and Senate, nothing was getting done in the government. Now the president was making the ultimate power play.
Chris didn’t give a damn. He was going to leave the country at the first opportunity, and he might consider coming back, in a few years, if things returned to normal.
He moved into the open space between Andy and Bradley’s house, then hugged Andy’s wall where the overhang provided the most darkness. He waited for his eyes to adjust and wished he had a pair NVGs. While he was wishing, he also wished a decent assault rifle would magically appear in his hands.
He wasn’t going to do battle, though. He was scouting and trying to decide if this was the right moment to leave the Bradley Adam’s family in peace. He should really cover his tracks by killing them, but that Bradley had quick reflexes and sharp ears. He’d likely face a very pissed off armed man who knew how to handle a gun. He’d have to take Bradley out first, in the dead of night, then finish off the rest of the family off.
But he had no intention of killing them all right now. This was currently his safe house with a family as cover. With the police gone, probably having deserted to protect their own families from what may be coming, he had a place to lay low. Plus, Bradley’s son had gone out in the middle of the night.
The kid had tried to be quiet but Chris was a light sleeper. At the first sound of a cabinet closing, he had sat up on the cot and reached for his requisitioned .357. He had moved to the bottom of the stairs, careful of light sources so he didn’t cast a shadow on the stairwell, and listened. In the quiet house, it was easy to make out. He was nervous from the sound of his rapid breathing. Brad Junior also tended to breathe through his mouth. After spending a few days with Bradley’s family, he was already familiar with their mannerisms.
Junior had jammed items into a bag or backpack, then crept back to his bedroom. Chris had moved to the end of the basement and pressed his ear to the wall. Sure enough, Junior’s window creaked open as it was opened at a snail’s pace. Then a thump and it was quiet again.
So, the kid had decided to, what, go see a friend? Score some weed? Hook up with a girlfriend?
Chris moved around the corner of the house now that his eyes had accustomed to the darkness. There were street lights but they were sparse and on the opposite side of the road. He avoided Andy’s yard because that man was crazy as fuck. He didn’t want to find out what going to the emergency room with buck shot in his ass felt like.
Night vision blown again, a set of headlights poked around the corner, paused, as if the driver was looking for someone, then the car straightened out, and continued on its way.
Chris took to the sidewalk and then, when he had advanced past the line of houses on Bradley’s block, he stopped and looked up and down the road. He took cover next to a house that had no lights on and waited for his eyes to once again adjust. One of the street lights had burned out. With the cover of night and his black jacket, he would be all but invisible unless someone looked directly at him.
A woman screamed. He ducked and tried to pick out the direction. Another scream, and then a shot.
Chris moved quickly, taking to yards as he sprinted a half-block, slowing, ducking behind cover, and then moving again. Finally, he rounded the corner and found the source of the commotion.
Thirty yards away, a pair of large trucks and a sports car had pulled in front of a house. The vehicles were arranged in an arc so they could shine the light on the front of the garage. Chris moved closer to find out what the commotion was about. He pulled the Beretta Nano from its holster and kept it at his side. The .357 thumped against his back, assuring him he had more firepower if needed. The Nano was a great gun, but it was designed for emergencies, not with engaging multiple hostiles at a distance, but the revolver was much larger, silver, and could catch a hint of light, blowing his cover.
He ducked behind a rambler that had ivy growing up the side. A figure move
d behind a curtain, and he went low under the window. He was lucky they had not been looking in their front yard. When the shape moved off, he kept his head down and hustled while remaining hunched over.
Then the house came into view, and he realized what was happening.
The men were a mixture of young and old. They wore T-shirts with beer logos and rock bands. Just a bunch of guys who should have been at the bar tonight. He found an SUV to move behind, and then peered out from around the back. The cars with the headlights on, now only thirty or so feet away, had created a little stage for the actors, only this wasn’t a play. This was all too real.
A man lay unmoving on the ground. A younger version of the dead guy, lay right next to him.
The woman was held by one of the assailants who had his hand around her neck and a gun pressed against her temple. A beer swilling guy with patchy short black hair grabbed the woman’s white nightgown and ripped it open, revealing dusky skin, pendulous breasts, and slim legs. Her foot lashed out at the guy who had stripped her, but he danced back.
“Woohoo. Got a live one here. I thought you Muslims only fought when you were hiding, planting bombs, or planning to shoot innocent people,” he said. “You from Syria?”
He had a beer in one hand and a gun in the other.
“I’m Pakistani,” the woman pleaded in a thick accent.
“Whatever,” he said. “See, we got some new rules around here yet. We’re like the new law force. Your man didn’t listen, didn’t do what we told him, and look at him now. Look at you now. You’re a pretty good looking woman for your age.”
“Please. Just kill me and get it over with. You are an animal.”
The man next to the gun wielder laughed. “An animal? You’re one to talk you brown skinned monkey.”
She stopped fighting and went limp, dragging at his arm. The man appeared to relax his grip. She took the brief opportunity to kick again, this time she got him right in the balls. He screamed and doubled over.
She ran toward her house but didn’t make it far. A guy on top of one of the trucks lifted an AR-15, aimed, and shot her in the back. She struck the side of her house, spun, leaving a splatter of blood on the white wall, and then fell to her side.
The guy she had kicked roared in anger. He stalked toward her body, and when he was a few feet away, he lifted a black handgun and shot her in the face three times.
A couple of the men in trucks stepped over the sides of their pickups and hit the ground. They moved toward the house and went inside, presumably to loot it.
Chris had seen enough. He backed away, wishing he could take one of those guys down so he could take a better weapon. But even with his training, he would probably be killed. It just took one shot. He had once read a quote from a World War II veteran who said: “You know there’s a bullet with your name on it. It’s the one you don’t expect that kills you.”
There was more gunfire in the distance. Chris frowned, and then turned to head back to his safe house.
That’s when he saw Bradley moving up the street, not even trying to conceal himself.
Christ! He was going to get them both killed.
Chapter Thirty-One
James had to be treated for a gunshot. He hadn’t even realized that the sting, when he’d fallen against the door in the convenience store, the pain had actually been from getting grazed by a round. They cleaned his wound, applied a bandage, and gave him a shot in the arm that hurt worse than the graze had. Then they gave him a couple of Ultram and told him to get some sleep.
He didn’t get much rest over the next eight hours. He tossed and turned, this time on a new cot because he couldn’t get the image of Sanders out of his mind. When he did doze off, images of blood and Sander’s white face and vacant eyes haunted him. Ultram was a lot milder than Oxy, but it left him feeling dizzy and out of it.
He overheard some of the other’s in the 178th talking about similar things run ins across the city. One squad had even been tasked with going into a house of a suspected looter and rifling through the guy’s belongings so they could confiscate his guns. On one hand, he hated that they were being required to perform such an outrageous act against the second amendment. So, this was how the US Military, now in control of law and order in Chicago and other cities, was doing business? It sickened him, but what could he do? They had to stick to the mission and, frankly, he was too scared to even consider running, something that more than a few in the Guard had done. Desertion, during martial law probably had some dire consequences.
There were reports of an attack up near North Side, where a squad had come under direct fire from a bunch of people hiding in an apartment complex, and there had been casualties on both sides.
Wells found him in the DFAC. James had given up on sleep and was bleary-eyed and hungry.
“Are you doing all right?” Wells asked him.
“Not really, Sergeant. Losing Sanders, well, I didn’t see that coming. It was just a routine patrol. Nothing to see here. Get it done and call it a night. Then we went into that convenience store and two people started shooting. I got grazed by a bullet, not bad, but it was just two scared people inside the store. But that doesn’t fix anything,” James said. “I was the one who ordered us to go in. Sander’s death is on me.”
“I read the report,” Wells said. “You did the right thing, and no one’s blaming you. If someone else had been fire squad leader, then it would be them hanging their head in shame. The fact is, we’ve had multiple squads come under attack, and that’s why the Army is stepping in to help. It’s not a mission failure, they have more combat experience, so don’t take it as a defeat. This is one of the hard realities of what we do. When you sign up, you know that you may come under fire. One of yours got killed, and that’s going to be with you for a long time. It’s how you deal with it, rise above it, and become a better leader, that will define your experience in the Guard.”
“Thanks, Sergeant.” James said.
“You bet, now listen up. You guys are heading out this afternoon. We have a situation in Vicksburg and they want us there ASAP,” the sergeant said.
“Vicksburg? I have family there. Well, we’re not close, not since our mother and father separated. In fact, I haven’t called him in a long time.”
“Hopefully your family is okay. We’re going to be there as a show of force,” Wells said.
“Show of force?”
“Yeah. There were some shootings. A family was taken out of their home and killed. Then some dumb ass shot another dumb ass, and now things have escalated. The president is about to expand martial law to the entire state. There’s a large protest planned for tomorrow morning. We’re going to be on site when the order comes in. Now that the regular Army has arrived, most of the company will depart at 0500 hours and setup a temporary FOB. Get your squad ready.”
“I still have my squad?”
“Yeah. You’ll have one or two new guys as well. I don’t know who they will be yet, but they will report to you before we depart.”
“Thanks, Sergeant Wells. I won’t let you down,” James promised.
“I’m sure you won’t. Get some chow, some rest, and be ready to muster with your squad at 0430.”
He needed some sleep, but he was afraid that any rest was going to be elusive.
At least they were getting out of this powder keg. Hopefully their next stop wouldn’t be as volatile.
James was very wrong about that.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bradley didn’t waste any time. Kirk lived only a half mile away. Where else would Junior have gone? He could have taken his Bronco, but with the shootings, he didn’t want to risk running his headlights. This way, he could hide if he needed to. If he got caught out on the street by some kind of bad guys, they would likely take his Bronco if he had to stop for any reason. Better to risk driving in broad daylight.
“You’re going to find him?” Monica asked.
“I have to,” Bradley said.
“
I wish you would wait until morning. He’s probably at Kirk’s. I tried to message him, but I don’t think they are going through. I haven’t been able to use the internet on my phone all day.”
“It’s an outage. Chris has this crazy idea that the government has cut off access to keep us under control. I mean the states that are affected by the attacks.”
“Really? Maybe he’s right. I tried to call him, and at least that went through, but it went to voice mail,” Monica said.
Chris took his cell phone out of his pocket and also tried to call Junior. It rang until Junior’s voice came on. “I’m here but my mind is in another state. Say the words, and I’ll call you back.”
“This is Dad. Where are you? I’m not mad, I just want to come get you. Call me back as soon as you get this message,” Bradley said. When he hung up, his hand shook from gripping the phone like an iron vice.
“Be careful. Are you going to drive to Kirk’s?”
“No. Gonna walk. It’s not that far,” Bradley said.
He hugged his wife and headed for the front door.
He had packed his Kimber and two extra magazines. Then, just for good measure, he had filled one of his pockets with extra ammo.
He’d made it two blocks when he heard the woman’s screams. Bradley should mind his own business. Besides, Chris was already out here, and he would be back after he scouted out what of the commotion was about. He came around the corner and spotted the men chasing a naked woman. A tall man standing in the back of a pickup truck, tracked her with his rifle, fired, and dropped her.
“What the hell?” he said.
Bradley reached into his jacket and pulled the Kimber. He pressed his hand on top of the slide and worked it back nice and slow to keep the noise down. Then he thumbed off the safety.
Someone grabbed his hand and hissed, “It’s Chris. Don’t do anything stupid.”
DRUMS OF WAR: A Dystopian Thriller Series (Broken Patriot Book 1) Page 18
