She raised her head and asked, "You believe me?"
He shrugged. "These days? There's always something bad coming."
Her eye widened slightly as she said again, "So you believe me?"
"Maybe. Can you promise me that you'll tell me before it's a real threat?"
She nodded and said, "Absolutely. This is my home now."
A playful grin danced on his lips as he said, "Then I guess that's all I really need to know."
She forced an answering grin. "Good," she said, trying to push the pain from her voice. "Can I ask you some odd questions?"
"Like that wasn't a hell of a start," he answered with a chuckle.
She widened her grin, then asked, "Tell me about your father. Was he military?"
Jason studied her for a moment. "Yeah, actually. Marine Corps. He did twenty, then retired and went to work for the Department of Defense as a contractor."
She nodded. "Was he a freemason too?" she asked, pointing to the tattoo of the square and compasses on his forearm.
"Yeah, actually, he was. So was my grandfather. Hell, I think my great grandfather was too. Why?"
"I…that's one of those things I can't explain right now."
He looked at her. Her face pained, like she wasn't crazy keeping him in the dark like this but still had to do it. "But you will?"
She nodded.
"Anything else you need to know?"
She nodded again. "Yeah…I…did you serve?"
He shook his head. "No, I went to college like Mom wanted. Dad wanted me to do some time in uniform. He really wanted me to go to Annapolis, but he had the connections to get me an appointment, mom didn't, so that never happened."
"You ever think about ROTC?" she asked, pronouncing it as "rot-see", something he rarely heard from most folks, then he remember that she'd been a Marine as well. Some in the military, like his father, pronounced it that way.
"Didn't for Mom's sake. I think she was relieved I couldn't go to Annapolis, so I didn't see any reason get her worked up. She may have married a Marine, but she wasn't exactly pro-military, you know?"
Tabby nodded.
"Okay, I'm asking this for me. You know there's a lot of talk about you, right?"
Jason nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess so. I'd rather there wasn't but, what can you do?" he asked, shrugging as he finished.
"How much of it is actually true?"
He recounted the stories as honestly as he could. Occasionally, she'd stop him to ask for clarification on one point or another, but otherwise sat in rapt attention.
"And you were never in combat before the nukes?"
"Never said that," he said with a sly grin.
She raised an eyebrow in question
"I was a journalist," he said holding the grin.
He watched as the realization hit her.
"Embed," she said.
It wasn't a question, but he nodded in answer anyways.
"But you'd never raised a gun in combat before?"
"No, but only because it wasn't necessary. I was embedded with the Eighty-Second Airborne. The guys I was with, they all knew I shot competition and if it got deep enough, I'd pick up a rifle."
"What did they think of that?" she asked with a mischievous grin.
He chuckled. "Oh, the enlisted guys loved it. The platoon leader? Well, since that was frowned on, we decided he didn't need to know."
She nodded with a chuckle. "Why am I not surprised?"
"So now it's my turn," he said.
"Oh?"
"You can't tell me why you want to know this stuff, but can you give me a ballpark of when you can?"
Slowly, she shook her head. "Not really. I just know it shouldn't be too long."
"You know I don't like this, right?"
She sighed. The corner of her mouth turned down in a frown as she slowly nodded. "I know I wouldn't be thrilled if I were in your shoes," she answered. She looked at, as if trying to peer into his soul. "But you still answered. Why?"
"I trust you, for one," he replied.
"And another?"
He shrugged. "Nothing I told you can come back to bite me in any way I can think of."
"You sure?" she asked, her pained smile returning.
He shrugged, but placed his hand on hers, secretly praying it would comfort her. "I've been wrong before, but like I said, I trust you."
** ** **
Al Holliman stepped off the bus and smiled at the three friends standing before him. "A reception committee? For moi?"
Jason, Rick, and Scott looked at the man, then at one another. "More like we figured it would take all three of us to keep an eye on you. I still remember your first visit."
"Oh, just because they guys I was with wrecked the town…" he retorted.
Al had once been a member of the Somerton army, but not a loyal one. He and Jason met when Al came to inform the sheriff what Somerton, and Terry Conklin, were all about. That, coupled with his efforts to help free a dozen of New Eden's own, made him more than welcome in town.
"Got me and Katie hooked up, so I guess it wasn't all bad," Rick quipped with a grin.
Al nodded. "I guess it did." He looked at the three men. "So what was so important that I had to come here?"
"Not here," Jason said, taking Al's bag. "Let's head back to my place. We can talk there."
He looked at his three friends, an eyebrow raised in question.
Scott simply nodded. He'd known Scott longer than either of the Calvins, having worked with him in the resistance, so Al simply returned the nod and followed Jason.
Once they were safe inside of Jason's cob house with its rounded and whitewashed walls, the assembled friends took seats, filling up the sofa and loveseat.
"Okay, so now do I get to find out what this is about?" Al asked, a slight bit of annoyance starting to slip into his voice.
Jason nodded. "I need to know what happened to Somerton troops that weren't at The Pass. Any idea?"
"Well," Al said, perplexed at the opening question, "Most of them surrendered once word got to them that Conklin was a prisoner. Why?"
"Most of them, but not all?"
Al shook his head. "No, some took off. Again, why?"
Ignoring the question, Scott asked, "Any idea how many?"
He considered for a moment, trying to recall the information from the dark recesses of his brain. "Uh…I'm not really sure. A couple hundred at most. We didn't really worry about it after the amnesty was issued. Again, why?"
"We found Ramirez. We think, at least," Rick said.
"WHAT?" Al blurted out, his legs thrusting him out of his chair. "Where is he?" His hands clinched as his whole body seemed to vibrate.
Jason motioned for him to sit down. "Take it easy. Rick said 'we think'. We know he's working with a former prison gang called the New Lords of Chaos. Ever heard of them?"
Al shook his head. "No. Should I have?"
"Their leader was Conklin's brother. Ramirez went to him after The Pass apparently."
"If Ramirez can get to those troops and rally them…," Al said.
"We're not really worried about that. Declan, Conklin's brother, seems to have Ramirez in check for right now. They'll be a problem for now, but apparently one of his people went rogue."
Al grunted his disbelief. "Sounds like he knows how to keep his people in check just fine."
Jason shrugged, "Extenuating circumstances. Apparently, this guy's brother was killed at The Pass, and he took it personally."
"So there's no reason to worry about Somerton troops," Al said. "This guy isn't Somerton, probably wouldn't even know where to look, and doesn't have the authority to rally them if he did."
"Except this guy also knows Ramirez," Jason said, his voice not much above a whisper.
"Oh shit," Al mumbled. "You're right."
Jason nodded.
Rick asked, "Do you have any idea if there's a plan in place."
Al nodded. "In theory. Conklin was an expansionist at he
art, but he was also realistic enough to know that he was going to make enemies. He took a page out of Hitler and Saddam Hussein's playbook and had a plan in place for guerilla warfare if he was overthrown."
"Wow," Jason said in a deadpan voice. "He picked such wonderful role models."
Al laughed mirthlessly. "Didn't he though?"
"Still," Rick said, "why haven't they already launched operations?"
He shrugged. "No clue. They haven't, and that's why we didn't really worry about it. Yancey's been trying to keep an eye out for that kind of thing, and there hasn't even been a hint of an insurgency." Al's roommate and friend Yancey had been part of Somerton's military intelligence, and now served a similar capacity for the Rangers. "That said, there wasn't a lot of resources put into that kind of thing after the amnesty. Most folks were just tired after everything."
"Pass this info along to him if you would?" Jason asked.
Al nodded. "Yeah. Be glad to."
"So," Jason said, pausing for dramatic effect. "You hungry?"
Al smiled. "Starved. You'd better be taking me to Tabby's. I'm sick of hearing about it and damn well need to try it."
"Of course he is," Rick said with a laugh. "I don't think he's cooked a meal for himself or Allison since it opened."
"Not true. Allison needs breakfast before school and Tabby's isn't opened yet," he quipped with a grin.
** ** **
Jason stumbled slightly when he left Tabby's. Al had his place set up at a local boarding house, and everyone else was soon to retire for the night. The night turned into an impromptu wake for Hector, with everyone in the tavern hoisting a toast to the deputy. Jason felt duty-bound to share in far, far too many toasts. Now, the alcohol was affecting him.
Good thing he planned on walking home anyways.
The full moon lit the night covered landscape, giving the world its shadowy look that he'd come to find some small comfort in over the last decade or so as he made his way home along the well worn path.
He rounded the last turn, the cob house only a matter of a few yards away.
"Nice night, isn't it?" asked an unfamiliar voice.
Jason turned toward the shadow obscuring the speaker. "Nice enough," he said, his eyes scouring the darkness for a face, anything that would allow him to identify the other person. Regardless of who it was, Jason knew this wasn't good. He lived on the edge of town. People didn't just happen to be here, and most of the townsfolk knew he'd likely be at Tabby's tonight.
He didn't have to wait long to find out how much trouble he was in.
A group of six men stepped out from the shadows across from him. More sounds erupted from the woods behind him. As he looked, he saw another half dozen men melt into the moonlight. He was surrounded.
All wore the now familiar black vests.
"So," Jason asked. "Which one of you is Walker?"
A man across from him raised his hand about shoulder height. "That would be me. I guess there's no need for introductions. Declan?"
Jason nodded as he took a deep breath, trying desperately to push away the alcohol fueled fog in his head.
"Figures. He always knew how to ruin a surprise, you know?"
"What can you do?" Jason quipped with a shrug.
As if his words were some kind of cue, the surrounding men produced long guns which quickly pointed in his direction. Shotguns and rifles both, it was more than enough firepower to quell any desires on Jason's part to draw down on Walker.
"Sheriff, you need to take off that gun belt before things get ugly."
Slowly, Jason untied the leather thong holding his holster close to his leg and unbuckled the worn leather belt. He held it up with one hand.
"So, what now? You shoot an unarmed man?"
Walker shook his head slowly. "Naw. Now why would I do that?"
"It's your rodeo, pal. You tell me?"
"No, we're not going to shoot you. Not yet, anyways. You caused a lot of hurt to a lot of folks. You know that, right?"
"Did I sing Bohemian Rhapsody again?" Jason quipped.
Walker laughed. "I like that. You really are some kind of brave, macho motherfucker, aren't you?"
"Well, it's possible. I could be a pussy, cheese-dick who has to bring a half-dozen buddies to take on just one guy, but that's your territory," Jason fired back, his eyes glued on the other man.
The New Lord glared. "Kelly, take the belt," Walker ordered.
Jason felt the belt snatched from him. He forced his eyes to remain on Walker, who stepped forward.
"Let's see how funny you are when you're swallowing your teeth."
"Well, I'm no Jeff Dunham. I didn't bring my puppets, you know? Still, I'm better than Carrot Top, so I've got that going for me."
Walker swung with a huge right hand.
Jason smiled as he ducked and punched up into Walker's stomach. Already low, Jason spun and, using the back of his leg to sweep the other man's legs out from under him.
The New Lord crashed to the ground, his back slamming hard. He gasped for air as he rolled on his side.
"You were saying," Jason said with a smirk.
A moment later, Jason felt a massive blow on his back, knocking the grin from his lips. He dropped to his hands and knees. Another blow, a kick to his ribs, flipped him onto his back and sent bolt of pain throughout his body. Dimly, part of his brain registered that the rib was probably broken. And that a broken was the least of their worries.
Jason raised his hands, desperately trying to protect himself from the onslaught raining down on him. Blow after blow, slamming in rapid fire succession against his body until they bled together into one prolonged beating.
"Enough," Walker said, his voice sounding miles away in Jason's ears.
The black clad mob parted as Jason looked up, unable to focus. Walker stepped forward, a malevolent smile dancing across his lips. He raised a pistol, some semi-automatic. It was ugly, blocky, but Jason couldn't recall the make with his head pounding like waves against a cliff.
"I wasn't gonna kill you. Not now, anyways. But you had to mouth off, didn't you? A smart ass like you should know you're not going to make it very long in this world. Don't feel too bad though. You weren't going to live too long either."
Jason said nothing, trying to hold on to consciousness.
"Good bye, Sheriff. It's been a slice," Walker said just moments before the edges of Jason's peripheral vision advanced across his line of sight like elevator doors closing. A split second before Jason's consciousness completely retreated, a gunshot ripped through the night.
CHAPTER 7
Rick hated walking the path at night. He knew it well enough, but it seemed that every root and branch doubled in size, some nefarious conspiracy designed to arrange an abrupt confrontation between he and the ground. He hoped he'd catch up to his dad before having to go too far down the path, but it wasn't looking too good.
He started around the last bend, the full moon minimizing the plot to trip him and giving him a clear view. At least a dozen men, all wearing the black vests that had been such a topic of discussion, surrounded a man on the ground. Out this way, there was only one person it could have been.
A central figure hovered over the supine figure. Slowly, he raised what Rick could only assume was a gun.
Years of instinct clicked, his own pistol seeming to jump from his holster into his hands. Practiced ease brought the pistol up in front, where he focused on the front sight. The dark, coupled with the range—a good sixty yards at least—didn't inspire a lot of confidence, but he exhaled. The breath evacuated from his lungs, he squeezed the trigger.
The shot tore through the dark silence.
Every head crouched down and turned into his direction, each raising a weapon of his own.
"Hurry," he yelled and he darted toward the cover of the nearby trees. "Cover the left flank!"
The New Lords bolted at a dead sprint, immediately seeking the comforting embrace of the dark forest themselves.
"No way that should have worked," Rick mumbled to himself as he advanced cautiously toward the still figure of his father.
It didn't.
The crack of a rifle, followed a split second by the bullet whizzing by his head forced Rick to duck low.
Jason lay still, his only movement the gentle rise and fall as he breathed. Good enough, Rick thought as he snapped off a quick shot with his Glock, then grabbed his father's shirt collar and dragged him toward the house. He ignored the sounds of the fabric ripping as pulled him across the slick grass.
More shots followed, a few kicking up dirt near him until he finally found solace in the shadow of his father's house. He swung around and popped of another couple of shots, aiming at complete darkness.
Shots answered, digging divots out of the cob walls.
The back and forth continued for what felt to Rick like hours. He'd fire a few shots at nothing, while they would fire a few back that tore chunks out of the glorified mud. Rick checked his ammo. He was down to half a magazine, and that was it.
"No man ever left a gun fight wish he'd carried less ammo," Jason once said, and Rick was now a firm believer. At least on this gun fight, if nothing else.
More gunfire tore through the darkness, but didn't seem to be even close to him. It was then that Rick saw Billy's dark form, an AR-15 in his hands, crouched near the trees across the path from the house. Beside him crouched Scott, Al, and surprisingly, Sully. Each armed with a long gun of some kind.
Rick whistled.
Billy turned and looked in his direction.
Using a set of hand signals Jason taught him years before, Rick told Billy about where the bad guys had taken cover.
The big man nodded.
Slowly, Billy melted into the darkness. Despite being a mountain of a man, he completely vanished—no sound, no nothing marking his passage. Scott, Al, and Sully followed.
Rick took a deep breath. This was it. He knew he had to put up something of a good fight to give the others time to get into position. He swung out around the house and snapped off a quick couple of shots, making sure they weren't close to where Billy and crew would be.
Bad Moon on the Rise (Soldiers of New Eden Book 3) Page 7
