Skull's Shadows (Plague Wars Series)

by David VanDyke

  “What?”

  “I think Deputy Winslow would be an excellent choice for this mission,” said Wallace.

  “Why, Deputy Wallace,” Skull said. “I cannot tell you how much your support and confidence mean to me.”

  “Absolutely not,” said Evans. “Pick someone else. Someone with a little more...respect.”

  “Sir,” said Cox with forced patience. “Deputy Winslow is one of my best men. He has experience and is very capable. Additionally, everyone else here has family that they wouldn’t want to leave at such a time.”

  “I don’t care about your families,” Evans said angrily.

  “That’s clear,” came an unidentified mutter from the back of the room.

  “Let’s just give it a chance,” Skull said, smiling reassuringly at the little man. “You won’t have a lick of trouble out of me, swear to God.”

  Evans shook his head.

  “Now look here,” Cox said his lips tight. “I think I’ve been more than cooperative. We’ve been told to provide a deputy and Winslow is it. I doubt your orders say you could personally pick the representative that would accompany you.”

  “It was presumed that it would be a responsible official,” Evans whined.

  “Deputy Winslow is a responsible official,” the Sheriff responded. “He’s your man.”

  “We’ll need some more volunteers,” Evans finally said. “My office recommended you arm and deputize them.”

  “We can probably do that,” the Sheriff answered. “When do you plan on leaving?”

  “As soon as practicable. Tomorrow morning would be best.”

  Cox looked at Wallace, who said, “I’ll see who I can round up.” For the first time in weeks the big man appeared positively jovial.

  “I’ll go pack my gear,” said Skull walking away with a bland expression.

  Chapter 14

  Silas Crouch tried to suppress the frustration he felt toward his oldest son. He knew yelling at the kid wouldn’t get him anywhere.

  “You can’t stop me, Pa,” Anson said. “I talked to the recruiting sergeant and he already said they would take me.”

  “Don’t you realize the Homeland Defense League is taking anybody?” Silas told his son. “They don’t have any choice, because they don’t have enough people to win this thing. The Arkansas Free State is a fantasy and it’s going to get a lot of people killed. Maybe you, too.”

  “How can you say that?” his son wailed. “You were a soldier for twenty-five years. I’ve looked in your footlocker in the basement and seen all those medals. You could help us. I bet they would even give you a command.”

  “Command? Of what? Boys and farmers?”

  Anson’s face got tight. “Isn’t that how all soldiers start out? They’re asking for patriots, for men of courage. I’m not a coward.”

  Silas sighed and ran his hand through is hair. “Of course you’re not a coward. This is not about bravery or lack thereof; this is about using your head, son.”

  “My mind is made up, Pa.”

  “Anson, you are sixteen years old. Do you hear that crying in the other room? That’s your mother and she’s worried sick. Your two little sisters wouldn’t understand any better than her. And Kevin is only fourteen. He idolizes you, so he’ll want to follow you.”

  “So what are we supposed to do? Just sit here and let the war come to us?”

  Silas had already thought about this himself. He knew the Arkansas Free State would get crushed. The only reason it hadn’t already was because the existing U.S. troops were overextended, but that wouldn’t last forever. The generals would move symbols around on their maps, freeing up at least one heavy brigade, which would wipe the pitiful folks playing army from the face of the Earth. Worse, everyone else would suffer. Silas could see it played out in his mind as clear as day. Families of rebels forcibly thrown off their property and separated, sent to reeducation camps until they could prove their loyalty. Crushing poverty and oppression that would strip away all dignity.

  “We’ll go to Texas,” Silas said.

  “Leave Arkansas?” asked Anson. “Run from our homes? To some sicko haven? No way, not me!”

  “Son,” said Silas putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We can make a home anywhere. The only thing special about Arkansas is the fact that we are all here together. As far as the Eden virus, have you thought about what it could do for your sister?”

  “She’s deaf, Pa, not sick.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. She’ll be fine no matter what, but what if the Eden can restore her hearing?”

  Anson frowned. “They say it makes you retarded.”

  “That’s just propaganda. The government is scared because they know they’re losing control. They will do or say anything to regain that control.”

  “None of this has anything to do with me,” Anson said in exasperation. “I’m going to fight and we’re going to win and everything will be okay. We don’t need go to Texas.”

  Silas squeezed his fists together, and then let them out. “Son, you have no idea what is coming this way, but I do. It will be hell on Earth. It will not be glorious or exciting; it will be dirty and ugly and there will be nothing redeeming or admirable about it. Good people will die and no one will care. Worse yet, their deaths will serve no purpose. It will be a senseless loss.”

  “How can you say that?” Anson asked his voice rising. “Uncle Mark died in Iraq. Are you saying that was for nothing?”

  “No,” said Silas thinking yes. “That was totally different. He was fighting for his country and the freedom of an oppressed people. He was trained and prepared. You are not.”

  “I’m a soldier.”

  “You are no such thing,” Silas said, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

  Anson shook them off roughly and backed away. “Like I said, Pa, you can’t stop me.” He opened the door, picking up the pack and hunting rifle on the porch and began running across the open field.

  “Anson!” Silas yelled. “Come back, son. At least come say good-bye to your mother.”

  The boy stopped running for a few seconds to walk, and then he began running again.

  “Wait, Anson,” came a cry from behind the barn. Kevin came racing out after his older brother. He also carried a pack and his .22 rifle. “I’m going too.”

  “Kevin, no!” yelled Silas, running after them, but the boys quickly outdistanced him. Outmatched, he turned back to his house, ignoring the questions and cries of his wife and daughters. Instead, he climbed into his pickup truck and headed northeast.

  Within an hour Silas found them at the HDL recruiting station, two boys in a long line of the same. He walked up to his two nervous sons, placing his hands on them. “Come here for a second.”

  Anson pulled away. “We’re doing this, Pa. No sense in trying to stop us.”

  “I know,” said Silas sadly. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Why then?” asked Kevin.

  “Come here,” Silas said, putting his strong arms around each of their shoulders. “Bow your heads, sons.” He was then quiet for several seconds. When he next spoke his voice was calm and filled with unusual power.

  “Almighty God,” Silas prayed, “may Your blessing be upon Anson and Kevin. Watch over them and protect them and fill them with Your Spirit. Place Your angels as a hedge of protection around them. Keep them from evil and temptation and close to You. And Lord, if it be Your will, let this family come together again safe. And if this is not Your will, please receive their immortal souls into Your presence. In Your name we pray, amen.”

  Silas then took Kevin into his arms, kissing him on each cheek, and then did the same with Anson.

  The boys were stunned to see their father crying.

  “I love you both,” Silas told them. “Watch out for each other and trust God. Find us when this is all over, however it turns out. I’d come with you, but your mother and sisters need me.” Then he turned and walked away from the two speechless br
others.

  Chapter 15

  Skull, the Unionist Advisor Evans and six deputized civilians rode southwest in a cargo panel van on secondary roads. None of them wore uniforms, but they carried them packed in their bags. Although Evans was officially in charge, the men all looked to Skull for direction.

  “Take the next left,” he told the driver while looking at a map.

  “Go straight,” Evans ordered.

  Skull simply stared at the driver until he turned left.

  “You men should know this will all be in my report when this is over.” Evans stated making a note in his small book.

  Reaching out lightning-quick, Skull snatched the notebook from the man’s hand and tossed it out the open window.

  “How dare you?” Evans said, shocked.

  “Can’t afford to take something like that into enemy territory,” Skull explained. “Would be a security risk if captured.”

  “Enemy territory?” Evans asked. “Who says we’re going into the contested areas?”

  Skull ignored him and looked at the map again. Within minutes, they approached a loyalist National Guard checkpoint with Humvees and soldiers. Skull got out and Evans followed.

  “Who is in charge here?” Skull asked the first soldier he saw.

  “Master Sergeant Tomasu,” the soldier answered. “That’s him walking our way now.”

  Skull looked up to see a man with the skin tone and features of a Pacific Islander.

  “Road’s closed, folks,” Tomasu said. “I need you to turn around and head the other direction.”

  Evans stepped up in front of him, his chin up. “I am an official of the Federal Government. You will not hinder me in my mission.”

  Tomasu looked at Skull questioningly and Skull just shrugged.

  “Do you have any documentation, sir?” Tomasu asked.

  “I do,” answered Evans, “if my word is not sufficient for you I will show it. First I must get your name so I...” he reached for his small notebook but realized it was gone.

  Skull and Tomasu stared at the man expectantly. Evans pulled out a folded sheet of paper from an inside jacket pocket and handed it to Tomasu.

  The Master Sergeant read the document carefully, and then handed it back, satisfied. “Very good, sir. What can I do for you?”

  Evans seemed uncertain about what he wanted now that he had won the argument. Eventually he said, “We need to pass through your lines. To observe the situation.”

  “How far are we from the contested area?” Skull asked.

  Tomasu pointed at the road they had been traveling on. “Technically it starts about a couple hundred meters down that road where they’ve set up a checkpoint.”

  “Are they armed?” Skull asked.

  Tomasu nodded. “National Guard troops from Fort Smith. Guy in charge is Lieutenant Nelson. I played football against his older brother in high school.”

  “Very fascinating,” said Evans, clearly not interested. “Why have you allowed him to set up a roadblock?”

  Tomasu stared at the man coldly. “My orders are to man this checkpoint and only fire in defense, not to attack the rebels. I’m not going to start a civil war.”

  “I order you to clear that enemy checkpoint and remove all resistance so that we might proceed down the road.”

  “You’re going to have to talk to my commanding officer about that, Mister Evans,” Tomasu explained patiently.

  “Do you know who I am?” Evans asked.

  “Sure I do,” the man answered. “You’re an official civilian advisor, sir. I’ll only conduct operations at the orders of my chain of command. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “And just who is your commanding officer and where can I find him?” Evans stammered angrily.

  Skull stepped between the men and gently but firmly guided him back toward the van. “Where in the hell did you learn to talk to people?”

  “You should know,” retorted Evans, “that I have a graduate degree from Harvard in organizational communications. I am one of the country’s foremost experts in negotiation and how to effectively communicate with people.”

  “Uh huh,” said Skull. “Well, I don’t think the good master sergeant is going to attack that checkpoint and neither would I. Even if he wanted to, he doesn’t have the authority to act on his own. Which leads us back to our mission. What are we going to do?”

  “We’re here to render a firsthand report—“

  “Yeah, I know what your orders say,” Skull said cutting him off. “Enough of the what, it’s time for the how.”

  Evans peered at him blankly.

  Skull sighed and shook his head. “The way I see it, there are two options. One, we go in officially. Say we are here to talk to the resistance and render a report to Washington.”

  “Just walk in there?” Evans asked, shocked. “Are you mad? They could lock us up somewhere.”

  “They might,” answered Skull, “although we don’t know yet.”

  “What’s the other option?” asked one of the men in the back of the van.

  “Glad you asked,” said Skull. “We sneak in and pretend to be with them. If caught and questioned, we say we’re fleeing from the northeast and trying to get to Texas.”

  “Pretend to be rebel sympathizers?” Evans asked in evident disbelief.

  “No,” answered Skull. “We pretend to be rebels ourselves. Cross over into their lines without being detected and just blend in. I doubt there is very much bureaucracy in place yet and they would take our word for it.”

  “I don’t like it,” said Evans.

  Skull turned to the man. “Whether you know it or not, you have been given an intelligence reconnaissance mission where you must go in behind enemy lines in order to render a report. I don’t know why some idiot in Washington gave you this mission, since you are so obviously unsuited for it, but they did. I, unlike you, have extensive experience in working behind enemy lines, intelligence operations, and reconnaissance. You need to listen to me and do it my way.”

  “Or what?” Evans asked.

  “Or the men and I leave you here. We’ll do it ourselves and report back to you later.” In fact, Skull hoped the man would take his suggestion.

  Evans’ face seemed to elongate even more into something resembling a rodent’s. “You’ll have to answer for this.”

  “So will you,” Skull said. “You’ll have to explain to your superiors in Washington how you completely failed at such a simple mission. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

  Evans stared angrily at Skull before speaking. “Fine. But I’m still in charge.”

  “Of course you are,” answered Skull with a grin.

  “So, how are we supposed to get in there?” asked another man.

  “Just leave that to me,” said Skull.

  Chapter 16

  After hiding their uniforms, badges and much of their gear in a collapsed, abandoned shed, they traded a farmer the expensive panel van for a johnboat with a trolling motor.

  “The Sheriff ain’t going to be happy about us givin’ away his van,” said one of the men as he climbed into the boat.

  “He’ll be fine,” Skull answered. “Besides, I’m sure the government will reimburse him. Mister Evans here has pull and resources that we have not yet begun to comprehend.”

  The advisor opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it, clambering into the boat to take a seat.

  “Maybe we should go back and check in,” one of the men suggested as they floated down the river in the darkness.

  “Do as you please,” Skull said. He’d quickly discovered that all the men who’d volunteered had done so looking for thrills, but now the excitement had worn off. None of them had even been out of the county where they were born more than a few times and were now desperately homesick.

  “Really?” asked the man.

  “Sure,” answered Skull. “Just make sure you tell the Sheriff he’s supposed to put you in jail for me until I get back.”<
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  With that, the men got quiet and the flat-bottomed boat drifted slowly down the idle river, pulled along by a silent trolling motor. Skull occasionally used a banked flashlight to get their bearings, but for the most part they were able to see enough to navigate the river.

  Spotting a bridge ahead, Skull pulled out a tarp and covered himself to block out any light. Once he’d consulted the map, he said, “That bridge should mark Route 16, which leads west to the town of Garland. Reports indicate it’s one of the resistance hubs.”

  “How are we supposed to get there?” one of the men asked.

  “We walk,” Skull answered. “It’s not more than four or five miles.”

  “What about the boat?” Evans asked.

  Skull looked around and saw a rock bank that hung out over the water. “We sink it undamaged there in the water where no one is likely to find it. We’ll pull the motor and battery off and hide them in the underbrush.”

  “What if we need it to get out of here?” asked another of the men.

  “Then we pull it up out of the water and bail it out,” Skull explained patiently. “That’s one of the good things about a johnboat. It’s just a metal form.”

  They heard a vehicle approaching and dropped down low in the boat. A Humvee drove over the bridge without slowing.

  “What if they catch us coming in?” a volunteer asked.

  “I’m counting on it,” said Skull.

  “What?” asked Evans in alarm.

  “Listen, people,” Skull explained. “We’re here to do a mission and that’s to find out what is going on. The best way to do that is pretend to be one of them. Remember your story - you hate what the federal government is doing and want no part in it. You’re not an Eden, and have no strong feelings one way or the other in that regard. You’re mainly concerned about the government stepping all over your rights and want to live somewhere that respects those rights. Some of you have family you plan to send for when you can. That is your story; everything else can be the truth. They ask where you went to high school? Tell them. They ask the name of your dog? Tell them. Tell them the truth about everything except why you’re here, got it?”