Bunker: Boxed Set (Books 4 and 5)

by Jay J. Falconer

  “My pleasure,” Apollo said, lauding his own decision to assign Burt to help Rusty, not as a foreman to oversee the process, but to get the mechanic’s stench as far as way as possible. All the manual work of the day had sent the man’s body odor into orbit.

  In all fairness to the short-tempered jerk, Apollo figured he smelled almost as bad as Burt. The hours of shovel work to bury the diesel-filled water containers had challenged his back and his old bones. The thirty-plus years of flying a desk as an architect had taken its toll, long before Mayor Buckley drafted his sagging butt for Sheriff’s duty.

  Either way, Apollo’s nose needed a break. So did everyone else’s, except maybe Dicky. The former offensive lineman was back on the ridge, standing watch with the precision rifle, far beyond the waft of Burt. The big man had taken one of the horses with him in case he needed to make a hasty retreat. As long as their group didn’t hear the sudden echo of a gunshot, everyone knew to keep working.

  They weren’t expecting company yet, but Bunker didn’t want to take any chances. Apollo agreed, deferring to the former military man, who possessed far more tactical training than he did.

  Thus far, the entire process had gone smoothly, thanks to Albert’s skills as a chemist and Bunker’s planning. The former Marine must have been working on this strategy for a while, Apollo decided, watching the pieces come together like a chess master preparing for checkmate.

  There was still plenty of work to do rigging trees and running detonation cord. But soon, they’d be ready.

  Apollo gulped, pushing down a fleshy bulge of mucus.

  * * *

  “That should do it,” Bunker said to Apollo after finishing the last run of detonation cord. The two of them stood in the elevated position Bunker had for the blasting machine. It was a straight shot downhill to the end of the trench and provided the best vantage point to initiate.

  A sharp, shrieking whistle broke through the serenity of the mountainside from below.

  “Sounds like Dicky is finished with the final cuts on the trees,” Apollo said.

  “Excellent. Just need them to hold until we’re ready.”

  “I’m sure they will. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “Are the Tannerite charges in place?”

  “Ready to go, boss,” the Sheriff said, smiling, his tone sarcastic. He pointed at the TrackingPoint rifle sitting next to Bunker. “You might want to double-check their placement with the scope. Make sure they’re right.”

  Bunker took the rifle and brought his eye behind the long-range optics. He scanned the near side of the clearing, locating the charges Apollo had rigged at the base of each pine tree the boys had climbed. He confirmed their placement. “Nice work.”

  Apollo picked up the empty spool of detonation cord. “Are you going to bury the det cord in the trench?”

  “Would take too long. I tucked it along the wall instead. Shouldn’t be an issue.”

  “Pretty clever to use the trench.”

  “Figured we might as well use what we’ve already made. No reason to duplicate work.”

  “Or take the chance it’s spotted in the grass.”

  “Exactly. The element of surprise only works once,” Bunker said.

  Apollo tossed the spool next to the others. “I can’t believe how much of this stuff Tuttle had. He must have been stockpiling for years.”

  Bunker agreed, but needed to shift their focus to something more pressing. His thoughts turned to Stephanie. “We should probably talk about the thousand-pound elephant in the room.”

  “Who? Steph?”

  “It’s probably time for her to take the truck and get the boys back to camp.”

  “I agree. I’ll go have a chat with her,” Apollo said, turning to walk away.

  Bunker grabbed the man’s arm, spinning him around. “Better let me do it, Sheriff. If what you said earlier is true, she’s here because of me. This is my problem.”

  “What are you gonna say?”

  “Not sure yet. But I’ll think of something.”

  “You know she’s going to resist.”

  “Trust me, I’d rather walk into a hornet’s nest—naked.”

  “You and me both,” Apollo said after a quick chortle. “Except maybe the naked part.”

  Bunker smirked, his mind conjuring a visual of Apollo doing that very thing. “Yeah, I might have to rethink that last statement.”

  Apollo flared an eyebrow, looking amused. His tone turned serious a moment later. “We also need to decide on long gun placement. I’m assuming your preference is Dicky on the TrackingPoint.”

  “Actually, Sheriff, I was thinking about you,” Bunker said, aiming both hands at his feet. “I need someone I trust right here, on overwatch. It’s too important. Especially the first shot.”

  “Dicky’s trustworthy.”

  “Not what I meant. I need to know the shooter will do what needs to be done. You have the training. He doesn’t. This will turn into a shit storm damn quick.”

  “I may have the training, but not in a live combat situation.”

  “You’ll do fine. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “I appreciate the confidence, but—”

  Bunker didn’t wait for the man to finish. “I hear what you’re saying, Sheriff, but trust me. You can do this. I’ve spent enough time in combat to develop a keen sense for these things.”

  “You do realize that I used to be an architect. Not that long ago, either.”

  “And Dicky used to be a lumberjack. So what’s your point?”

  Apollo cleared his throat. “I don’t think you get my meaning.”

  “Sure I do, Sheriff,” Bunker said, not wanting to show an ounce of apprehension. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the one and only man for the job. I’m not worried in the least.”

  “That makes one of us. I hope you realize Burt’s not going to like me on the TrackingPoint. I get the feeling he wants to be behind the scope.”

  “Yes, he does. And that’s the problem. He’s much too eager. I don’t think he fully understands what taking the shot means.”

  “You’re worried he might freeze.”

  “Or just take off with the rifle, when it all gets a little too real. I’ve seen it before,” Bunker said, putting a hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “So, we all need to know, Sheriff. Are you up to the task?”

  Apollo paused, his eyes indicating he was unsure. Then he nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  Bunker knew the man would step up, despite his obvious trepidation. Some men have it, while others don’t. Even so, Apollo looked like he could use more encouragement. “Look, I know you have your doubts; that’s normal. We all do. But the TrackingPoint will do most of the work. All you need to do is breathe and wait for the green dot to light up the targets. I will take care of the up close and personal stuff.”

  “Sounds simple enough, but I’m gonna need a complete run-through on the rifle.”

  Bunker checked the position of the sun, calculating the time remaining until it set behind the mountain range. It was imperative that he have the sun at his back, plus he needed to pad some leeway for delays. It was going to be close, especially if he wasted time appeasing Stephanie and Burt, but he thought there was time for everything.

  Apollo must have sensed Bunker’s concern, because he didn’t wait for an answer. “I know we have a schedule to keep, but I don’t want to take any chances. It’s too important.”

  “I’ll get you up to speed. Just remember, it’s them or us, Sheriff. No different than an armed standoff with criminals. It’s all about the mindset. You need to act, don’t react.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “First and foremost, wait for my signal before you set those charges off. Then all you need to do is not let any of the stragglers get to cover.’”

  “With all we’ve set up, how likely is that?”

  “Some will inevitably get lucky and stumble through, so you need to be ready. Gotta keep them in the kill zone until it’s
over. We can’t count on the others to hit Jack-shit.”

  CHAPTER 44

  “Hey, gotta minute?” Bunker asked Stephanie in a whisper.

  “Sure, what’s up?” she asked with eager eyes.

  He pulled her away from the rest of the team, who were busy with Apollo divvying up the weapons and ammo.

  Bunker’s mind went into whirl mode, sifting through a dozen possible approach scenarios, searching for something that would achieve his objective with her. “I need your expert advice about something.”

  “Expert advice? Really?” Stephanie quipped, flaring her eyes. She smirked. “Okay, that’s a first.”

  Bunker ignored her reaction, pretending he didn’t notice. Feigning ignorance is one of the key advantages to being a man. So is selective hearing. You can play oblivious when it suits you, allowing you to push an agenda with delicacy. “It has to do with the boys.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes and no,” he said, pointing in the direction of Victor and Dallas, both of whom looked like they were about to burst out of their skin in anticipation of receiving a weapon from the Sheriff. “I’m not sure how I’m going to tell them that they can’t stay. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Just sit them down and have a talk. That’s what I do with Jeffrey, when it’s really important.”

  “On paper, I would agree. Except I’m not their parent. It’s really not my place.”

  “I’m sure they’ll listen, if you explain it properly. Just be calm and rational. That usually works best.”

  “Maybe, but I think I screwed up big time when I got them involved and showed them how everything was going to work. They feel like they’re part of this operation now, and it’s going to be hard to send them packing.”

  “It’s all about being firm but fair. They’ll try to guilt you into caving, but you can’t.”

  “They’ll hate me for it.”

  “Probably, but that’s how it goes sometimes. Kids can’t always get what they want. Somebody needs to look out for their best interests.”

  Bunker didn’t respond, wanting his phony anguish to hang in the air until it soaked into her skin. She’d come around; he just needed to plant the seed and let it grow into her own idea.

  She held his hand, squeezing it gently. “Everything will be fine, Jack. They look up to you.”

  “Yes, they do. But that’s because of my confidence in them. I’m not sure either of them have had that before from a father figure. If I take that away now, it’ll crush who they are trying to become as young men. It’s a rite-of-passage type thing.”

  She let go. “You can’t be their guardian and their friend, Jack. That never works. It’s one or the other. Someone has to be the grownup.”

  “I hear you, but they’re just now starting to get their footing and feel like they belong to something important. I don’t want to wreck that.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You don’t know that, Steph.”

  “Yes, I do. You’re a good man. You care what happens to them. Like you do with the rest of us.”

  “That’s what makes this so hard. If I screw this up, I’ll lose the ability to keep them safe down the road. And I can’t let that happen.”

  She put her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side as her tone turned sarcastic. “What you really mean is that you’ll lose the ability to keep them under control. Like a prisoner.”

  Shit. He needed to backpedal. He was pushing too hard. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s not about control. It’s about respect. For them and for you. You gotta treat them like adults. Otherwise, they’ll resist and never listen to anything you have to say. They’re at that age, Jack. The slightest thing will set them off.”

  He nodded, letting a cloud of doubt take over his face. “Is that what you do with Jeffrey? Treat him like an adult?”

  “He’s not like these boys. He actually listens to his momma.”

  Bunker threw up his hands. “God, I wish I had more experience at this. If I choose the wrong words, they’ll revolt and take off on their own. That’s how they’ll get themselves killed. Especially Victor. He’s done it before. How would I ever explain that to Allison? She’s counting on me to keep him safe.”

  Stephanie gave him a tender hug, then squeezed him tight before she pulled back. Her tone turned soft. So did her eyes, peering deep into his soul where the guilt was hiding. “You have to find a way, Jack. They can’t stay here.”

  “Even if I manage to somehow convince them to leave, how do I get them back to camp in one piece? We can’t send them alone.”

  “The answer’s obvious, silly. Somebody needs to drive them,” she said before hesitating with her mouth open. When her eyes tightened on him, Bunker knew she was deep in thought, processing the facts he’d just floated. Then again, she may have been churning through the details he’d glossed over in his rush to manipulate.

  Stephanie let go of her expression, looking confident, as if she’d just landed on an answer. “That’s why you used only one of the Land Rovers by the trench.”

  A stab of pain in his gut told him she may have been on to him. She was smart and capable, but he decided to move forward as if her comments meant nothing. Otherwise, if he switched focus now, she’d know something wasn’t right.

  “See, that’s just it. I can’t spare anybody right now,” Bunker said, pointing at the ridgeline where the BART-2 blasting machine was waiting to be connected to the detonation cord. “I’m going to need everyone who can shoot up there, on that ridge, when the bullets start flying. It’s going to be hard enough to pull this off as it is. I can’t spare even a single shooter.”

  “Bullets, huh?”

  “And there’s gonna be blood. Lots of it. And that’s not counting if the Russians bring a few tanks along. I’m not sure if the rest of them understand what’s about to happen.”

  “No, I suppose not,” she mumbled.

  “I’ve been down this road before. It’s not something you can un-see or forget easily. It’ll leave scars for the rest of their lives, assuming they don’t catch a bullet first.”

  Her gaze fell to the grass as her neck turned slightly to one side.

  Bunker didn’t think she was looking at anything in particular when her breathing changed, slowing to a deep, exaggerated rhythm.

  Stephanie’s empty stare continued until she brought her head up in slow motion, almost as if her neck had run stiff and was filled with pain. “I’ll tell you what, Jack. How about I go talk with the boys and convince them to head back to camp with me? That way, you don’t have to be the bad guy or lose any of your shooters.”

  “Would you? That would be amazing, Steph. Thank you!” Bunker said, feeling damn good about his success. He didn’t like having to manipulate her that way, but it was necessary for the good of everyone involved.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Stephanie stood by the open door of the Land Rover, waiting for the group’s tattooed leader to make his way over to her. All that remained was to say goodbye, then slide her rear end into the driver’s seat. Once she fired the engine and put the shifter into first gear, this part of the ordeal would be over. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but it needed to be done.

  Apollo, Rusty, Albert, and Dustin stood in a huddle twenty yards up the path, waiting for the next phase of the mission to begin. Dicky was still on guard duty, watching over the valley from his perch on the ridge.

  She was thankful Dallas and Victor didn’t put up much of a fight about returning to camp once she’d put her foot down. She only had to raise her voice once after their initial objections, ending the debate. Sometimes it pays to have a reputation as a vengeful bitch.

  Bunker was busy chatting with Burt about something, looking as though he’d rather be somewhere else.

  Stephanie felt the same way, wishing none of this was happening. It was all a little too surreal for anyone to process, let alone a recently divorced single mother
who didn’t want to say goodbye to the man she couldn’t stop thinking about. Her heart wanted her to stay, but her logic had other ideas.

  She’d dragged herself to the meadow with her own mission in mind. Now she was abandoning her desire for the needs of others, a strange twist of fate. It felt both wonderful and nauseating at the same time. She wondered if she was asleep somewhere, lost in dreamland after passing out from an all-night drinking binge with the girls.

  If only, she thought as Bunker turned away from Burt and started a slow walk to her position. Deep down she knew Bunker had talked her into this, even though she distinctly remembered it being her idea. A strange paradox, indeed.

  Maybe her heart was the culprit, letting him maneuver her to do his bidding. She was usually on her game around men, but that was more of a necessity around her ex. Bunker was different in so many ways. Granted, his charm wasn’t always obvious. Neither was his guile, but his true colors always shined the brightest.

  Victor got into the backseat through the passenger door on the far side of the truck and slammed the door shut.

  Stephanie made eye contact with Dallas, who was standing next to her. “Time to go.”

  “Hang on a sec,” he said, never taking his eyes from Bunker.

  When Bunker arrived, Dallas said, “I’ve got something for you.”

  Bunker looked intrigued as the youngster climbed into the truck on his knees, facing the backseat. His arm went over the bench.

  “I found this hidden in Tuttle’s barn,” Dallas said after climbing out of the truck, giving Bunker a curved tube with a cloth-wrapped handle sticking out of one end. “I thought you should have it.”

  Bunker took it and pulled on the handle, sliding a long, curved sword out of the scabbard. He twisted it in the air, moving it from one side of his body to the other, much like Stephanie had seen Samurai Masters do in the movies.

  “Is that what I think it is?” she asked as the sun reflected off its polished surface.

  “It’s a Samurai sword,” Dallas answered, wearing an ear-to-ear smile.

  A vision flashed in Stephanie’s mind, showing her a severed head lying next to its lifeless body. “Is it real?”