Charlie was tugging at a knotted rope, trying to get a bundle loose from one of the pack horses. “Is your dad Jim?”
Pete nodded.
“We saw some men take him,” Charlie said. “They used some kind of stun gun or something on him. Then they took him away.”
“He didn’t shoot any of them?” Pete asked, his voice rising. “He didn’t fight back?”
“He didn’t have a chance to. The men were hidden.”
Charlie went back to the rope he was struggling with, trying to figure out why the knot wouldn’t give. When he looked back up, Pete was gone.
Chapter 43
The Shopping Center
Jim regained consciousness as he was being dragged through the back door of a vacant storefront in the shopping center. His shoulder banged against the doorframe as the men struggled to get him through the opening. His hands were zip-tied behind his back. The men carrying him each had an arm looped beneath his biceps. Jim could feel muscles tearing in his shoulders and the pain was excruciating.
They slammed him into a metal kitchen chair. Zip ties were fastened around his ankles, holding them to the chair. The ties around his wrists were cut, then his wrists refastened behind the chair. He looked at the faces of the three men around him. While he didn’t know them, he recognized all of them. All were from various branches of local law enforcement.
“This is what you’ve become?” Jim asked, looking each man in the face. “A bunch of fucking kidnappers?” He had a blinding headache from the blow to his head and it didn’t help his mood.
Two of the men looked at the ground and wouldn’t meet his eye. The third was more defiant.
“You open your mouth again and I’ll put a bag over your head,” he said. The same man pointed to one of the others. “Get on that back door. We don’t want any of the women or children wandering in here. Barnes doesn’t want them to see this.”
Jim had no doubt that the man would put a bag over his head. He wasn’t sure if that meant a cloth bag he could breathe through or a shopping bag that would suffocate him but he had no intention of finding out. He took the offered advice, focusing on looking around and taking in his surroundings. There were a few mattresses scattered around the room and a lot of trash. There were racks with weapons and stacked boxes containing survival food. The boxes were probably supplies stolen from the county’s emergency supplies.
Jim didn’t judge the men for taking supplies available to them. He didn’t judge them for setting up shop in the superstore. He did judge them for doing it under the pretense of it being a law enforcement action and he damn sure judged them for what they were doing now. If they killed him, how would his family make it? He could only hope that his friends would fill in the gap and help them survive.
These men had blown any pretense of official action when they killed Deel. They were willing to kill one of their own, and you couldn’t make excuses for that. They were also willing to kidnap one of the citizens they swore an oath to protect. They were not people Jim could ignore anymore, hoping that they’d stay on their side of the fence. They were not fellow survivalists trying to make it through this bout of societal collapse. They were a threat and would have to be dealt with as such.
If he lived that long.
A tall, thin man in camo fatigues came in through the back door. He regarded Jim for a moment, then dropped his cigarette onto the low pile carpet and ground it out. From the way the other men deferred to this man, Jim assumed that he knew who he was. This was the boss.
“You must be Barnes,” Jim said.
The man approached Jim and seemed to study him, as if he were trying to place whether the two of them had ever met before. Without warning, he lashed out with a short jab and shattered Jim’s nose. He was wearing some kind of tactical gloves with hardened protection across the knuckles. The pain was blinding and Jim could taste blood pouring into his mouth.
Barnes gave Jim a moment to recover and then grabbed him by the hair, wrenching his head up. He stared into Jim’s eyes. “I figure that punch saved me at least five minutes of bullshitting with you and listening to your smartass remarks. You should understand now that I’m pretty fucking serious and I won’t hesitate to hurt you.”
Jim did indeed understand that. He could not remember ever taking such a blow to his nose before. He could feel it swelling and filling with blood, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. If he ever had the opportunity, he would kill this man. He prayed there was the opportunity.
“We’re clear,” he hissed.
“Good,” Barnes said, straightening out. “Then I’ll cut to the chase. We hear you have a tanker of fuel. We want it. We need to keep our generators running through the winter. We have diesel vehicles that need fuel. Unfortunately, we’re about out.”
“I thought you all seized all the gas stations in the county,” Jim said. “You should have plenty.”
Barnes shrugged. “Unfortunately, we made some short-sighted decisions based on financial need.”
“Let me guess, you traded the fuel instead of saving it?”
Barnes nodded. “I’m sure you understand how that might happen.”
Jim started to respond but choked on blood running from his sinuses down his throat. He coughed and blood sprayed from his mouth. Barnes backed up, a warning expression on his face. Apparently he didn’t want his fatigues to get stained.
“We would be glad to trade you fuel,” Jim choked out when the coughing passed.
Through his watering eyes, Jim missed the lightning fast jab coming toward his nose again. He heard the bones crunching in his skull, felt them grinding beneath the man’s fist. He nearly passed out from the pain, but could hear the man yelling in his face.
“WRONG FUCKING ANSWER!” Barnes yelled. “Who said anything about a trade? How about you deliver that tanker to me and I let you live? How’s that for a trade?”
Jim was unable to respond. He was stunned, the synapses in his brain flooded with the pain, and he could barely breathe.
“Excuse me,” one of the other deputies spoke up. He was wearing an earpiece. “The sheriff is on the radio. He’s asking for you.”
Barnes stared at the deputy who interrupted his interrogation. “He ain’t my sheriff anymore,” he said, but went and took the deputy’s radio anyway.
Jim looked around at the other deputies but none would meet his eye. They looked a little sheepish, but if he was looking for sympathy, he wasn’t finding it here.
“Barnes here,” the man growled into the radio.
“Killing Deputy Deel was one thing,” the sheriff said, “but now you’re kidnapping people? Is this what you’ve turned into?”
“Desperate times, desperate measures,” Barnes said, his voice lilting almost playfully. “I need fuel and this asshole has it.”
“That asshole is Jim Powell,” the sheriff said. “He’s a citizen of this county. He’s a dad with a wife and two children at home. He’s a man who’s been helping his neighbors survive. What have you done for anyone lately?”
“This citizen stole that tanker from somebody and now I’m stealing it from him,” Barnes said, casting an eye at Jim. “That’s how shit works now. There’s always a fish one size bigger waiting to eat you and this fucker just got ate.”
“Look, these folks don’t care about that tanker,” the sheriff said. “They’ll gladly give it up to get Jim back, but they can’t drive it out of here. They blew the roads up to keep strangers out. They’re impassable. You’re welcome to the fuel but you’ll have to find another way to get it out of here.”
“You can bring it out that farm road,” Barnes said. “Same way you and Ford got in there.”
“It’s too heavy,” the sheriff said. “There’s no way a road tractor can pull it through a pasture. It can’t get enough traction.”
“Doesn’t sound like my problem,” Barnes said.
“You let him go!” the sheriff insisted. “You have my word that the fuel is yours. You get a truc
k from the farm supply or one of the home heating oil companies. You can haul it out one truck at a time.”
“Your word means nothing to me,” Barnes said. “Here’s the deal. I want to see that tanker sitting in my parking lot by the end of the day or I hang this citizen from a light pole in the parking lot. You got it?”
“You’re not being reasonable,” the sheriff said.
“Reason is for the mediocre,” Barnes said. “I’m done being mediocre.” He set the radio down. He was done talking.
Jim knew that the sheriff was right. There was no way the heavy truck could come out of the valley now that the roads had been blown up. They had a road tractor they’d used to move the tanker and the food trailers but it just wasn’t made for off road use. It would sink up on the farm road and be stuck forever.
Barnes seemed to know what was going through Jim’s head. He stared hard at the man. “You better hope they think of something.”
Chapter 44
The Shopping Center
One storefront over, Hugh had listened to the entire exchange between Barnes and the sheriff through his headphones. Not giving any indication of what he was listening to, his only visible reaction was a single raised eyebrow at the mention of the old friend he’d spoken with on the radio the other night. It was the same expression frequently used by Mr. Spock on the original Star Trek series and could mean anything from sarcasm to interest to vague amusement. In some ways, Hugh seemed much like the unemotional Vulcan, so unwaveringly focused on his task with the radios.
Hugh had been afraid to talk to Jim on the radio the other night. It was clear that Barnes was unstable and was becoming more unhinged by the day. He couldn’t seem to handle the stress of watching the world as he knew it grinding to a halt. Hugh was trying to come up with his next move but he didn’t know how to make it. He needed out of this shopping center group but he didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know of any groups other than the group he was already part of. He’d only recently learned that his old friend Jim had a group but he was afraid their future might be limited if Barnes had his way. Even though he hadn’t been invited to join Jim’s group, Hugh knew that radio operators such as himself were a highly desirable addition. That would have to be his exit strategy. It was all he had.
From what he heard on the radio, Hugh suspected that they must be holding Jim in the old shoe store next door. He’d only been in there once. Since these men were trying to keep the main superstore space family-friendly, the old shoe store was where they went to drink, where they took women that visited the camp, and where they stored anything they wanted to keep away from the families.
Hugh wasn’t in any position to storm in the shoe store and take Jim by force. There were at least a half-dozen cops here and several more men that were associated with them. Hugh couldn’t take them all. He was armed with a Taurus 1911 that he appendix-carried in a leather holster. It was concealed in the waistband of his pants and he didn’t know if the cops were aware that he carried it or not. He preferred that they not be aware of it. He carried two spare mags in a kydex carrier on the back of his belt.
Obsessed since childhood with edged weapons, Hugh carried several homemade kiridashi, a type of Japanese utility knife with a durable edge and sharp point. He’d made them himself in his home shop from old files and carried them in an assortment of locations on his body. He carried one up each sleeve, fastened to his forearms in sheaths he’d designed himself; one in each boot; one dangled upside down from a case he wore around his neck; and two were attached horizontally to his belt – one at the back, one forward of his left hip.
Hugh sat at his radios trying to decide what to do. He thought of trying the frequency Jim had contacted him on but he didn’t know if anyone would be listening or not with Jim apparently out of the action. He couldn’t take a chance on the superstore group hearing his transmission. Someone would put a bullet in his head right there at the radio table.
He assumed that at some point there would be an action taken against the shopping center, an attempt to get Jim back. They would have to do it today or Barnes would probably kill Jim just as he said he would. Logic told him that if anything happened, it would probably be later in the day. It was unlikely they could pull something together this quick after talking with Barnes.
Hugh believed the sheriff when he said they didn’t have a way to get the tanker out. It made sense. If Barnes was thinking logically, he’d understand that and try to find some way to work with them. By taking Jim, he had their attention and they were willing to do what he asked. It was his mistake to ask for something that was impossible to deliver.
Hugh decided that he’d go up on the roof under the guise of checking his antennas. There was a sniper stationed there and Hugh liked to go smoke with him and talk guns. He could use a break anyway. He could use some fresh air. It would give him time to think and maybe come up with a plan.
He wanted to get out of the superstore more than ever. Now he would have to take his friend with him. He and Jim hadn’t been close in years but they had been close once and it had been at that crazy point in their youth when it was important to find people who thought like you did. That shit meant something.
Standing and stretching, Hugh looked around and saw that no one was paying any attention to him at the moment. He grabbed his pack of Winstons off a table and walked to the back of the store. He tucked the smokes in his pocket and climbed the wall-mounted steel ladder. At the top, he unlatched the roof hatch and climbed out onto the rubber roof.
At the sound of the hatch opening, the sniper turned and saw Hugh’s lanky frame unfolding onto the roof. “Hope you have a cigarette I can bum,” he said.
“Gotcha covered,” Hugh said. He shook two out of the pack, tossing one to the sniper and sticking one in his own mouth. He lit his, then tossed the lighter to the other man.
The sniper lit his own smoke then returned the lighter. “Anything going on down there?”
Hugh had a lungful of smoke, but shook his head. He exhaled. “Not a damn thing. Here?”
“Saw a couple of deer and a few groundhogs. Saw a big bird that I think was an osprey. That’s about it.”
“Who’d have thought the collapse of modern society would be so dull, right?” Hugh commented.
As if provoked by his judgment, the world responded. Gunfire erupted behind the shopping center. Hugh flinched and ducked out of reflex.
The sniper scrambled for his Remington 700 and bolted toward the back parapet wall. Hugh watched as if it were all happening in slow motion. The moment of decision was upon him. He took a deep breath and made his choice.
Chapter 45
The Superstore
Barnes gestured at the man tied to the chair, his face a mass of crusting blood. “Somebody lock this piece of shit in the storeroom. There are too many kids wandering around this place. I can’t have them running next door to tell everyone there’s a hurt man over here.”
Sword went to the chair. Jim was conscious but not speaking to them. Sword slipped a Spyderco from his pocket and sliced through Jim’s bonds. “Stand up!”
Jim slowly rose to his feet.
Sword put new flex cuffs on his hands, took him by the arm, and led him toward the back of the store. Jim was slightly disoriented from the pain and swelling in his face, the difficulty in breathing. His eyes were crusty from watering. He had no idea what was in store for him. He looked toward the back of the store. He blinked at the bright light coming through the open back door. He could see the sun shining on an overgrown cornfield. He wondered if it would be the last time he saw the outside. Then something blocked part of his view.
A figure. He assumed it to be one of the cops at first, but it was someone smaller, less bulky. A woman. He had a moment to think that Barnes was going to be pissed about one of the women knowing they had a prisoner over here. The man seemed to be trying to keep that under wraps. Then Jim noticed the woman had a gun.
It was raised and pointed in his
direction.
Jim dropped to the floor. With his hands behind his back, he couldn’t catch himself. He face-planted on the concrete floor, landing on his already pulverized nose. He didn’t even have time to consider the pain before gunfire erupted.
BOOM!
The shotgun blast was deafening in the nearly-empty space. Sword dropped, falling beside Jim. They were face to face, Sword gasping like a fish as thick blood oozed from his mouth. He was a dead man who just didn’t know it yet.
Jim rolled toward him, groping awkwardly for the Spyderco clipped to the man’s pocket.
BOOM!
Another shotgun blast and there was drywall dust in the air. He didn’t see anyone fall. He thumbed open the knife and slipped the blade inside one of the cuffs. It was tricky and he sliced the hell out of his palm when he jabbed the blade into it. He struggled to lever the knife against the plastic restraint, then it went through and he was free.
One of the cops had been behind Jim and was retreating into the store. There were few hiding spots in the large open storefront. His weapon was drawn and held straight in front of him, dumping rounds at the doorway. The figure in the doorway lunged to the side, taking cover from the barrage of .40 cal rounds.
Before their attention turned back to him, Jim grabbed Sword’s sidearm from its holster, and put two rounds into the center mass of the retreating deputy. He dropped. Jim knew Barnes was still in there and there could be more. He’d lost track of who was coming and going from the room. He couldn’t see them at that moment, but assumed they were hiding behind the boxed-in columns that supported the roof.
Jim rolled to his knees, firing at one column, then the other, forcing the men to stay hidden while he backpedaled toward the door. He hoped like hell that the woman with the shotgun didn’t pop back in, blind from the sunlight, and blast a hole in his back.
Valley of Vengeance: Book Five in The Borrowed World Series Page 20
