When he reached thirty, Nathan sprang up with the dogs. “Freeze! You are prisoners of the Idaho National Guard!” he screamed, and the others jumped up. The man in back was knocked down when Tim dove off the ledge. The other froze in shock, seeing guns pointed at him while Nathan continued screaming over the loud growls of the dogs.
“You are in military gear, and will be treated accordingly with the rules of war set forth by the Geneva Convention! My name is First Lieutenant Morris and you are my prisoners! If you move, the dogs will attack, and we will kill you according to the rules of war!”
Everyone saw the two visibly relax as Nathan screamed at them, but were wondering what the hell Nathan was talking about. “Now, both remove your hands from your weapons slowly,” Nathan told them.
The one laying on the ground with Tim hovering over him raised his hands out in front of him, and the other one put his over his head. “Apollo, guard,” Nathan pointed at the man standing, and then pointed at the one on the ground. “Ares, guard.”
As the dogs jumped off the small ledge, Nathan never took his eyes from them, expecting them to vanish. “If either of you move, the dogs will attack, but they attack the groin, and we will not make them break the attack until we have you secured. Speak if you don’t understand,” Nathan told them, and saw both bushes nodding while the dogs growled at them.
“Secure them!” Nathan barked.
Tim stepped up to the one on the ground. “Keep your hands high and let me pull you up. If Ares feels you tense up, he attacks, and you don’t want to know what getting your dick chewed off by a dog feels like,” Tim warned.
As the others stripped off weapons, John returned and stopped beside Nathan. “Holy shit, are they good,” John gasped. “They’re blocked like we are to thermal.”
“Yeah, saw that and you did great,” Nathan said, still not taking his eyes off the two. When Bill pulled over two large rucksacks, Nathan fought the urge to tear through them. Only when the two had the ghillie suits off, did Nathan finally look down at the gear stacked along the ledge. “John, I don’t think we would’ve spotted those two if they’d gone through the fucking valley floor.”
Nodding, “I’ll agree with that,” John said as Nathan jumped down. Opening the first pack, Nathan sucked in a breath.
“Holy mother,” he mumbled, and John leaned over and saw the control box to a Mew 2 in the rucksack.
“Shit,” John grumbled, and looked up to see the two were standing naked with their hands tied behind their backs. “Damn, they’re as fast as Nathan.”
“Johnson, 44571568,” the first one spouted out.
Then the second spouted, “Wachinski, 36457891.”
Wondering why the two spoke, the rest of the posse turned to see Nathan pulling the MU out of the pack. “You were in military gear, so our orders to treat you as prisoners of war stand,” Nathan said, and assembled the MU.
Rusty saw and heard both prisoners sigh with relief. Not wanting to mess up Nathan’s lie, everyone just aimed weapons at the two and kept quiet. When Nathan connected the display screen to the cable, he looked up at the two.
“Under the rules of war, I refuse to give up the code,” Johnson spouted.
Giving a shrug, Nathan turned on the unit and John tried to remain calm. When the unit turned on, Nathan tapped the screen to change the user. John saw Nathan type in the screen name of the Homeland director they’d caught in Wyoming. An hourglass popped up, rotating for a second and then a password screen with the keypad displayed on the screen. Nathan tapped in the numbers and the screen went to search mode as John let out a long breath of relief.
“Don’t need it. I can hack a Mew two,” Nathan shrugged, and turned the display around to prove it. Both nearly fell down, but the growls of dogs held them on their feet. Turning the screen back around, Nathan saw all the cabins light up, along with all the bodies on the ridge of the members preparing to defend the compound.
Shutting the unit down, “Sergeant,” Nathan said, looking at Bill. “Take the corporal and get our rides, so we can turn our prisoners in.”
Tapping Rusty to follow, Bill left to get the buggies while Nathan kept going through the packs. “This is some of the best gear I’ve ever seen,” Nathan mumbled, then turned to look at the prisoners. “You will be blindfolded so you can’t reveal where our camp is, but any attempt to escape and the dogs will take you down.”
Both nodded vigorously as the dogs continued to snarl at them. Not finding a satellite link radio, Nathan gave a sigh of relief and tossed the stuff back into the packs while Tim and Aiden put hoods over the prisoners. “Apollo, Ares, sit,” Nathan said, and the two stopped growling and sat down.
When Bill returned, they loaded the two in separate buggies and headed home, taking the long, roundabout way, much to the relief of everyone in the group. Reaching the valley, Nathan radioed to stand down and they were coming home.
Stopping at his cabin, Nathan pointed for Tim to pull back past the garage to keep the prisoners far apart. Glancing up the slope, he didn’t see his group, but knew where they were coming from. Heading inside and noticing it wasn’t even eight yet, Nathan grabbed the laptop he had taken from his Homeland boy and turned it on. It took a bit, but he found what he needed, connected to the printer, and printed out the stack of paper.
Stepping outside, he saw Jasmine and the others staring at Johnson, still in the buggy. Putting a finger to his lips as he gave them a wink, Nathan moved to the buggy. “Christopher Johnson, DOB 10-14 from Rapid City, Iowa,” Nathan said, taking the hood off and found Johnson in a state of panic at hearing Nathan. Holding the papers up, Nathan read off what training Christopher had, time in service, but when Nathan read off the address of his wife and daughter, Christopher’s face turned white.
“Now, you answer questions and I won’t put out on the radio for others to visit your wife and little girl,” Nathan offered.
“Under the rul-,” Christopher stopped when Nathan held up a hand.
“Oh, we don’t follow those, but we do turn you over to people who do,” Nathan smiled. “But Mac-J teams are very valuable, and we’ve never had one not talk. So, you answer, and you can sit out the rest of the war in a cell, assured that we won’t send people to rape your wife and daughter for months on end, and torture you just for the fun of it. We already know most of the answers to the questions we’ll ask. We did get your director, so you’re low on the food chain.”
Closing his eyes, Christopher gave a reluctant nod. “Excellent. Now, let me talk to your buddy,” Nathan said, putting the hood back on and motioned for Jasmine to follow.
When they were away from Christopher, “You and Amanda get notepads and write the questions Bill and I ask, so we can swap out,” Nathan told her in a low voice.
“They are a Mac-J team?” Jasmine hissed, and Nathan nodded. “Did they have a Mew?”
“Oh yeah, and I never expected to have one delivered,” Nathan chuckled. Giving Jasmine a hug, he headed over to Wachinski. Nathan read off his bio and since he didn’t have wife or kid, Wachinski screamed at Nathan to go fuck himself.
“Tim, move him to the garage and pull out the engine hoist,” Nathan said, then headed back to the porch. As he walked past Christopher, “Your buddy wants to do this the hard way and I don’t understand why. You don’t get a prize from your team for holding out, and the losses you receive from us are appendages.”
“Let me talk to him, sir,” Christopher panted under the hood.
Taking his gear off, “Nah, need to show him our team is better,” Nathan replied as Bill walked over.
“Want me to take Wachinski?” he asked.
“No, I got him,” Nathan answered. “You’re the best interrogator I’ve ever seen. You pull Christopher down to your porch, so he can’t hear the questions I’m asking, but can still hear the screams.”
Seeing Jasmine walk up with a video camera and notepad, “It really feels wrong recording evil shit,” Bill mumbled, but headed for the buggy.
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After hoisting Wachinski up, it only took a blow torch, two toes, a little electricity, and twenty minutes for Wachinski to see things Nathan’s way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It was after four p.m. when members, and members only, gathered in the dining hall. To no one’s surprise, Anita and Floyd didn’t come. Nathan had all the gear from the two spread out on two tables with a sign on each, ‘Mine, do not touch’. The others were watching Nathan mark on the wall map across from the doors.
“So, what did the posse find out?” Vince asked.
“It was a Mac-J team looking for a Special Forces unit. That’s what they think has been hitting the tweakers,” Nathan said, using a red dry erase marker on the map. “The UN government has been supplying the tweakers.”
“Shit,” Greg gasped.
“Oh, it gets better,” Bill cut in. “The government has been actively handing over prisoners and civilians to the tweakers to turn into meth monkeys. The one hundred we heard about being turned every week was just here. Big D has other camps that get at least that many recruits.”
Stepping back from the map, “Yep. They put the count close to three thousand meth monkeys Doyle Bailey has under his control,” Nathan said, then turned to the group. “Good news is Big D won’t cooperate with the government supplying any gang but his, so the Iron Lords are being hunted.”
“Um, Nathan?” Lanny said. “That’s a lot of meth monkeys.”
“Yes, and remember, that’s only their best guess,” Nathan said, stepping back to the map. “Big D has camps south of I-90 all the way to Avery. But the good news is the UN government is terrified of the meth monkeys. After our attacks, the tweakers shoot at anything, including blue helmets on patrol. Only the tweakers are moving in North Idaho. And since there are only six hundred and change of UN troops, they stay put and just let the tweakers roam the countryside.”
“How is that good?” Vince asked.
“Meth monkeys don’t have good shit,” Rusty chuckled. “The blue helmets have given them arms, ammo, and food, but that’s it. Nothing to take out air or armor.”
“No, you forgot about chemicals to make crystal,” Aiden added.
Getting to his feet, “They’re giving them prisoners and the stuff to make more poison to convert them?!” Heath shouted.
“Yep,” Bill nodded.
Visibly shaken, even with his swollen face, “How do we stop it?” Heath asked.
“Huh,” Nathan grunted. “It’d be easier to stop the turning of the Earth. The only answer is to win the war because I can assure you, Big D isn’t the only king pin doing this for the blue helmets. We found out from those two, the meth monkeys are very good at causing the population trouble. That’s why they’re backing the tweakers, they’re better than the UN. The people they catch, they convert with meth. Before you ask, yes, some do fight it off and not cooperate, and end up getting shot, but the vast majority are converted. You can’t understand till you’ve seen a tweaker spinning. They’ll do whatever they can to get more. Now, all they have to do is to stay high, do what Big D says, and they get a daily allowance.”
Seeing the others thinking, Jasmine cut in. “What were you marking on the map?” she asked, pointing at the wall.
“Oh, those two set out from I-90 almost following the state line, but as you can see, they stayed on the ridges. Two men alone were able to mark all the locations of people in two hundred square miles in three days,” Nathan told them in awe. “Never before in the history of man could that’ve happened.”
“Are you sure?!” Vince cried out.
Walking over, Nathan spread out the map he’d taken from the prisoners. Circles were drawn along the same route Nathan had marked on the wall. In the circles were marked locations with numbers. “They would set up the MU, take readings and mark locations, then move on. If you look at the map, they stopped just south of us. Their perimeter actually overlapped our Mew, but we have nothing there. Well, at night. If they’d done that during the day, they might’ve caught a few in the fields. Their next stop was the peak that forms the ridge wrapping around the base of the valley.”
Giving a shiver as he looked at the map, “So, when do they report in?” Vince asked.
“When they reach Clark Fork, and they were supposed to be there in five days,” Nathan answered. “I’m thinking, we take one of their radios and charge it alone, and drop it off at the tweaker camp in Burke.”
“I like that,” Lanny nodded.
“So, they haven’t been calling in their position?” Vince asked in disbelief.
“No, and you just confirmed it because we would’ve picked it up. They have no satellite relay, but they do have …” Nathan paused, stepping over to one of the tables with the gear. “Satellite phones, but neither one’s made a call in six days.”
“How easy are those to track?” Heath asked, pointing to the phone.
“Just like a radio,” Nathan shrugged. “But, any of our patrols that go out will take one. They’ll turn it on at the top of every hour and if the compound is attacked, someone here can call. Yes, they can track it, but it’s a moot point if the compound’s under attack.”
“What about those Warthog dune buggies? I thought those Mac-J teams used those,” Lanny asked.
“They do, but this group left theirs in Mullan.” Rusty answered. “But the really good part, the government is paying Big D to be on their side. One thousand ounces of gold and two thousand ounces of silver every three months.”
“Dear Lord,” Lanny gasped. “They’re paying the devil’s disciples to spread their evil.”
Cocking his head to the side and nodding, “Damn,” Bill grunted. “That’s the best explanation I’ve ever heard.”
“Rusty,” Nathan called out, and Rusty turned to see Nathan pointing at one of the tables with gear laid out. “Johnson was your size, so you get the gear, but the sat phone will stay here in the guard room.”
Jerking his eyes to the helmet and quad tube NVG, “Whoa,” Rusty gasped. Then he turned to the thermals, M110, and Lapua sniper rifle. “All of it?”
“Dude, he even wore the same size boots you do,” Nathan snorted, then turned to Aiden. “The other set is yours, but the boots won’t fit.”
“Cool,” Aiden grinned, moving to the table and gathering the gear to shove it in the rucksack.
“Sorry, Bill, none of the shit they had would fit you,” Nathan said, and Bill shrugged.
“I’m good, but the next quad tube NVG we run up on is mine,” Bill said. “Not my fault I’m six-foot-five.”
Turning to Vince, “You going to bring the others in here, or just have the members go tell those under them?” Nathan asked.
“Here,” Vince nodded.
“Guys, I need you at the house in a few minutes,” Nathan told them, holding his hand out to Jasmine.
“All of us?” Janice asked.
“Yes,” Jasmine smiled, letting Nathan pull her up. “The kids can watch TV or play games.”
While Nathan and Jasmine left, Rusty and Aiden stuffed the gear in the packs and the rest of the people in the compound came in. “Wonder what’s up?” Rusty asked in a low voice, and Aiden just gave a shrug.
Half an hour later, Nathan and Jasmine led the posse and wives down to the basement. Walking to the end of the basement, Nathan opened the door to his gun room. The only place Jasmine had ever seen more guns was the group they’d rescued Tom, Natalie, Casey, and Emma from.
In the middle of the floor were five stacks of ammo cans, and Nathan motioned for the group to form a circle. “Guys, I want each of you to make a false bottom in a cabinet, or a false wall in your cabin,” Nathan told them, and bent down to open one of the ammo cans in front of him. The others sucked in breaths, seeing the stacks of gold coins.
“This was at the house?!” Rusty cried out, looking at the four cans in front of Libby and himself.
“Yes, and when we find more, we’ll bring it here and divide it up, after each of you have a pla
ce to hide it in your own home. You’ll bring over small packs in the mornings when you work out, and slowly take it back to your house,” Nathan told them.
“Do we always have to bring it here?” Jasmine asked. She knew how much they had hauled across the country, and how much Nathan had already. It made her nervous to keep stashing gold in the cabin.
“Yes, I’m the only one with a basement. We really don’t want to be sitting in a living room and dividing up spoils when someone just busts their ass through the door,” Nathan told her.
“We’re rich,” Rusty breathed.
“Shit, you wish,” Nathan snapped, and all of them looked up at him. “Guys, this isn’t worth much now. Hell, you look at it. The metal cans are worth more now than the gold inside. You can store supplies in them.”
Seeing them stare at him confused, “Bill, each one of those cans weighs fifty pounds. Before the crash, that would’ve equaled over a million dollars. If someone came up and wanted to buy the truck you just got, what would you do?” Nathan asked.
They all nodded in understanding when Bill answered. “Tell them to fuck off,” Bill answered.
“Guys, this is for after. This will end, and we’ll do what we can for our families. They won’t get a childhood, so we’ll do what we can,” Nathan told them, and they all nodded. Pointing to another stack behind him, “That came from Jeremey’s and we are dividing it up, but I want everyone to keep it separate, just in case he comes back,” Nathan said.
Turning and looking at the stack, “He had that much here?” Rusty asked in awe.
“Yes,” Jasmine cut in, and pointed to a stack of paintings leaning against the wall. “We need each of you to take those as well. Sorry, but I claimed the Pollock.”
“Those are real?!” Janice cried out.
“I told you they were,” Nathan huffed.
“Nathan, you know shit about art, and you like to blow smoke up peoples’ asses,” Janice said, staring at the paintings with wide eyes.
War Zone: Homefront Page 35
