“What are you talking about?” Angel asked, sensing a sudden tension in the older members of the group.
“A tactical nuclear device, fielded back in the fifties and sixties, with a relatively low yield nuclear warhead, but also an insanely short range. Just a step up from an atomic hand grenade,” Sam explained, careful to keep his voice low while he spoke.
“Now that’s just something from computer games,” Amy complained. “Nobody in real life would make an atomic hand grenade.”
“No, you’re correct, Amy,” Sam agreed, but then continued, his voice still subdued. “Only Wile E. Coyote had access to something crazy like that. But there are other things, relatively small devices, that could do what Luke observed outside Joplin.”
“Oh, and we probably should change the subject,” Amy noted, and did just that, but dropped a bombshell of her own.
“Dad, why don’t you tell Luke about your little trap up in Tyler. I know he would love to hear that story.”
“Uh, trap? What are you talking about?”
With Amy priming the pump, Luke glanced around to see the expressions on the other men shift from guarded to predatory. Sam cleared his throat and nodded his thanks to Amy, and Luke didn’t miss the reference Amy made to his father. Dad?
“Well,” Sam said, looking down like he was stalling for time. Or gathering his thoughts. “If you’ll remember our last search operation for your mother’s killers, we came up with a big fat goose egg.”
“Goose egg? More like we took a ride on the Crazy Train,” David noted, and Luke couldn’t disagree.
“You mean our visit with the Tremor Brothers?” Luke asked, and he saw the other men nod, but Amy just looked confused.
“The house where we found that old man?” Luke supplied. “The one who confirmed the drone operators bailed out right after…you know.”
The painful reminder stretched on for nearly a minute.
“Oh,” Amy sighed. “What were the Tremor Brothers, exactly?”
“Just a movie reference to some fictional hired killers,” Sam answered. “The old man’s sons, and his nephews, apparently spent too much time watching movies. Like that old one set in Las Vegas, Smoking Aces.”
“And all the Saw movies, too,” David whispered under his breath, having helped with the clean up after the Wootens perished.
“Anyway, they dressed up like characters from that movie,” Luke finished. “Funny, I was just thinking about them today.”
“Well, we knew the Committee used these drone operators as their own pet terrorists. Hitting targets designed to destabilize the Allied States. I understand they used them up here, too. Took out one of the farms working with your friends, the Kellers.”
“What? Scott, I mean, Major Keller, didn’t say anything.”
“Well, ask him later,” Sam continued. “Anyway. After you left, Mike and Tim managed to get our mini-refinery up and running, and then they started working on resurrecting the old production units at the La Gloria Plant over in Tyler.”
“Needed to keep our word and get a supply of diesel ready to begin shipments to Fort Hood,” Mike interjected. “We got pressure from Major Warren, who was no doubt getting it from higher up the food chain.”
“Indeed,” Sam agreed, and when he continued, Luke heard something else in his father’s voice, “and somehow, word got around about the plan to restart the plant.”
“You made a trap,” Luke whispered, amazed by the audacious plan. “You started the rumor about work at the plant, and then started searching the area.”
“Close,” Sam said, a tight grin twisting his lips. “First, we surveyed the area for the best launch locations, then we started the rumors.”
“And then what happened?” Luke felt his breath catch, eager for the rest of the story. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he listened hard for the rest of the story.
“Judging from where the Wootens claimed the control truck had set up, in relation to our house, we developed a profile of where to look,” Sam went on to explain. “Remote area, wooded, with a prominent hill or high spot.”
“We had scouts and locals recruited to the cause, all out looking as soon as the work started at the plant,” Mike chimed in, and his face held a look of savage satisfaction. But then, if the Predator drone had fired just fifteen minutes sooner, his wife Beth and their unborn child would have joined the other victims at the family cemetery. She’d been working with the fruit preservation group gathered at the Big House, but had gone to the Greenville house for a checkup on one of the pregnant women.
“Got a tip from one of the homesteaders up near Swan, northwest of Tyler,” Mike continued. “One of their boys spotted a strange truck with a Humvee outrider headed for an abandoned farm a few miles from their farm. Pure luck the kid spotted them, then had the sense to tell his dad. Took three days for word to reach us, but gave us a chance to stake out the site.”
“The drone operators blew up an empty bulk oil tank and a pile of scrap metal we’d piled up next to it,” Luke’s father added with a chortle. “Lee Farrell helped us pick out the garbage and risked his own neck in the process. His momma was not pleased, but that gave us the time to surround their position.”
“What did you do?” Luke asked, his breath coming in short gasps as he imagined the scene.
“Waited until they were occupied trying to pack up their camp and took out the guard force,” Sam answered, his tone hard and he struggled not to gloat in satisfaction. “I got two, Kofi nailed one and that Daniels’ kid got the other. David led the team that took down the rest, and we ended up with sixteen of the little bastards in the bag. Also picked up the two vehicles, four Predators, and nine Hellfire missiles. Plus, directions to their resupply point.”
“And our losses?” Luke asked carefully, and David gave him a feral grin before he glanced at Angel, who managed to blush despite his dark complexion.
“Old man, get off it,” Angel growled, then answered for his friend. “I tripped over a tree limb, okay?” He looked over at Luke and offered a sheepish smile of his own. “Sprained my ankle. That was it, and bad luck can happen to anybody! Otherwise, not a scratch to our team.”
“And he had Melanie waiting on him hand and foot for two weeks,” David concluded, still grinning at his protégé.
“What did you do with them? Please tell me they died hard,” Luke growled, his eyes flashing with the leaking anger that still burned deep.
“Depends on your definition,” Sam replied, his own anger still evident. “Some folks will complain if you hang them with a new rope. We didn’t use a new rope, but they did hang. Legal and all, too. Well, as legal as we can get these days. Hauled them back to Center, turned them over to Sheriff Henderson and let him do his investigation.”
“What?!” Luke exclaimed. “You should have tied them to a post and burned them alive! Or spent a week cutting off their fucking arms and legs and cauterizing the stumps!”
Luke’s raised voice attracted some attention, but he was beyond caring. A hanging? Seriously?
“Son, I know you are angry,” Sam said, his eyes catching his child’s heated gaze with his own. Luke returned his father’s steady stare and felt his slipping control gradually return. “Revenge feels good, it tastes good. Trust me, I feel the same way. But if you let it run your life, then when does it end? Where does it take you?”
Sighing with the weight of his words, Sam paused before continuing, his voice softer now but no less intense. “We were both headed down that road, and eventually you’ll start killing for the sake of quenching that thirst. Claire’s dead, Angelina’s dead. They’re dead, and nothing you can do will bring them back, no matter how many blood sacrifices you make in their name.”
“But they deserved to suffer more for what they did,” Luke whined, and he didn’t like the sound of it in his own ears. Not in front of his family. Not in front of Amy.
“You have no idea,” Sam said. “David found their logs, and they�
��d killed dozens, maybe as many as a hundred innocents, with their cowardly attacks. Those evil bastards committed countless other atrocities, as well. I know they deserved more, but if you still believe in God, then you must put trust in His word. And His judgment.” He paused again, looking his son in the eye. “Son, you need to accept this. You still have a life ahead of you, and you can’t live it with this hate eating your soul.”
Almost against his will, Luke thought back, and remembered crouching on the damp floor of the shower, his sides aching from the sobs of misery and frustration, that’d run through his body. He remembered how Amy had held him to her breast, and how she’d lovingly stroked his head while the tears fell. He had a life, a future, with this wonderful woman, and gradually, he felt the burning anger recede. Not disappear but withdraw for the time being.
While he sat there, sharing the stare with his father, he experienced an insight into himself. Somehow, Luke knew in that moment, he would forever need to keep a tight rein on his temper, or else the anger could, and would, come flooding back. In those few seconds, he lost the last vestiges of childhood and fully embraced his role. He was a man, a grown-up, and he knew he needed to act the part.
“I accept it,” Luke grunted out. “I don’t like it, but I accept it.”
Sam nodded, and broke the prolonged eye contact. He rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension, and motioned for Luke to join the rest of their group, seated in a circle on the cold concrete.
“So, as Luke was telling us before,” Sam said, as if the confrontation of a moment ago had been cast aside, “about what’s been happening up in Joplin. I’ll admit, when I heard the news of the Committee forces using a nuclear weapon, I feared the worst. But it sounds like the warfront has stabilized for the time being, correct?”
Luke nodded in agreement, though that was far from the full story. They were holding, true, but the stalemate was a precarious thing. The reinforcements coming in from the Committee’s volunteers, the so-called food fighters, now got an abbreviated boot camp at Fort Riley. They came in green and untried, but the numbers seemed to be swelling in recent weeks, and experience would only make them more dangerous.
Then, there was the problem Scott Keller warned about. The enemy seemed to be focusing more and more on counter-insurgent operations, and those men had some skills. Scott hinted at more turncoat soldiers, but Luke began to wonder if they might not be something else. Thinking of Scott again made Luke’s mind wander away for a moment, and when he spoke again, his words veered back to home.
“How is Scott Thompson doing? And Alex? I can’t believe I didn’t ask about him as soon as I saw you guys,” Luke admitted. “I know the burns were bad, but how is he holding up.”
Amy gave a sad smile before she replied.
“Scott is recovering as well as can be expected. Helena has finally stopped hovering, and we expect Scott to make a full recovery. While he’s been laid up, Scott took to reading some of your gunsmithing books and fooling around with the repair kit you built.” Amy then held up a hand before Luke had a chance to open his mouth.
“I told him it was fine, Luke.” Amy stressed the word fine. “He needed something to do, some way to contribute, while his leg healed. This way, he can feel like he is doing his part.”
“Cool. I was hoping somebody got some use out of it,” Luke replied with a shrug. He really didn’t mind, and he hoped Scott picked up the skills. “But what about Alex?”
That question got a sigh from the young woman, and Luke’s father took over.
“He’s still recovering, son. Alex faces a hard road to recovery. I was afraid we might lose him to infection, because of the extent of the injuries,” Sam admitted. “If we hadn’t gotten a resupply of antibiotics from our friends down in the Golden Triangle, then I’m afraid that’s what would have happened.”
“Oh, so they found it?” Luke said softly. Locations of the Strategic National Stockpiles were closely held secrets, after all.
“I suspect Captain Gilbert knew exactly where to look,” Sam said with a bit of a smirk. Like he knew something nobody else did. “But we can ask him tomorrow. I heard he’s coming in with the last group.”
“Any idea what is going on?” Luke addressed the question to the group, and when he looked around the faces, he saw only more questions waiting.
“I think we will find that out tomorrow, as well,” Sam said. “Captain Bartaloni said the General wants to meet with me, David, and Mike at 0700.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Well, they should start serving food in an hour, so set up your bag here and sack out if you want,” Sam suggested. For the first time, Sam looked close at the battered backpack and the collection of rags tied off neatly with 550 line and hanging from the side of the patched bag.
“What’s that?”
“Winter camouflage,” Luke replied, slipping into lecture mode as he unconsciously copied his father’s own teaching techniques. “We getting much snow back home yet?”
Sam shook his head. “Frost on the ground, but hardly any snow. No heavy freezes, yet. Beth’s worried about the mosquitos next summer, if we don’t get a hard freeze soon.”
Mike barked a hard laugh at the mention of his wife.
“That’s my girl. Looking for the black lining in the silver cloud.”
Luke had to fight back a smile at the comment.
“We’ve been in a freeze up north for a while. These rags don’t look like much, but they get the job done. Cloak helps us blend, and the boot wrappings cut down on the sound of ice crunching. You can say that about a lot of our gear,” Luke paused, looking at the tattered cloth. “We’ve gotten real creative in sourcing our camouflage and moving around in the ice and snow. We use pilfered bed sheets, white if we can find them, and then spend hours afterward, trying to get all the blood out. You know how it stains.”
“I guess it’s been that kind of war,” David finally commented. He’d been quiet after pitching in what he knew about catching the drone operators. Probably embarrassed for me, Luke thought, being present when I was going through a meltdown. David Metcalf was just that kind of guy.
“Yeah, it has,” Luke agreed. “A ragged and messy affair.”
“Shit, son,” Sam fired back, “you’ll find out they all are, one way or another.”
CHAPTER 53
Luke was up hours before dawn, leaving the warm sleeping bag to slip out in his undershorts and t-shirt to take care of his morning duties before moving on to his morning chores. Breakfast was more of the ubiquitous mush, but with a dash of fake sugar instead of the Tabasco flavoring used the night before. Glancing at his still-slumbering father and friends, he just shook his head. Old folks need their rest, he reasoned.
Careful to move quietly, Luke dug out his mess kit and then did the same for Amy, making sure he could deliver on a little breakfast in bed. Not done yet, Luke retrieved a clear plastic baggie from the top side pocket of his pack and then removed a camp cup, stuffed with one clean sock and wrapped in another to muffle the sound, from the large inner pouch.
He looked around, examining the crude mess facilities and his eyes fell on a large pot of water bubbling over a propane burner. Using one of the clean socks, Luke poured the cup three-quarters full and gave the cook, an older woman with her gray hair gathered in a long braid down her back, a thankful nod, which she returned.
Luke was out of coffee, but he’d traded some extra pistol magazines for the M9 to someone in Third Squad for a handful of tea bags. Though he was nearly out again, Luke decided Amy would appreciate a fresh tea bag in her cup this morning.
Luke still felt in a daze, seeing Amy again after two months of separation. He’d tried to leave on good terms, but he knew his decision to go join the Guard smacked of him running away. Maybe he had, in a sense. She seemed willing to put that behind them and Luke, for his part, knew he was luckier than he had any right to expect. If he could bring her breakfast in bed, maybe that would help assuage his own guilty feeli
ngs.
Watching Amy’s delicate nose twitch when she caught scent of the fresh tea made Luke smile. She was still asleep, but the aroma must have drawn her out of her contented slumber.
“I thought I was dreaming,” Amy whispered, and she looked up, her eyes clouded with a mixture of confusion and dawning wakefulness.
“No, you’re not dreaming, that’s real Lipton,” he teased as he handed her the cup. “Mind the temperature.”
“Funny man,” she replied. “You know what I mean. When I saw you walk in through that door, I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest.”
“I felt the same way,” Luke confided. “On one hand, I’m terrified you’re here, but on the other, I don’t think I could have lasted much longer without seeing you.”
“Is it really that bad? Up there? We don’t get much on the radio. News about the war, I mean.”
Luke watched while her lips moved, and her nostrils flared ever so slightly when she breathed. He devoured her with his eyes, and Amy quickly noticed Luke wasn’t listening. Not exactly. He was mesmerized by Amy, messy bed hair and all.
“So I told Paige, sure we can hotwire a car and drive to Vegas,” Amy continued in the same tone, but with a self-satisfied little bow of a smile on her lips. She knew she had Luke firmly ensnared now, so she decided to have a little fun with him. “I’ve always wanted to see the Strip after dark, and I’m sure we can find a job waiting tables. Or dancing on them.”
“Whaaaaaat?” Luke finally managed to mumble, realizing his brain was no longer in gear.
“Just seeing if you were paying attention,” Amy replied with an impish grin. “I’d never take Paige to Las Vegas. The way that girl plays Spades, she’d take to gambling in no time and end up owning the casino.”
“So, she’s doing better?” Luke asked carefully. When Luke was getting ready to leave, Paige was still forted up in her room, only coming out for meals. She still broke down into helpless tears and there seemed to be nothing Luke, or his father, could do.
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