by D A Carey
It soon became clear that there was nothing more to be added. Sheriff Owens couldn’t suppress a smile when he instructed Bill McMaster, “Throw these people out of the city. Our closed city and the curfew law will not be circumvented just because someone has a friend in town.”
“Yes sir!” Bill said, took them to the north end of town, and escorted them out.
Most of the rest of the drive was an uneventful trip through Kentucky farm country. The only moment of angst came when they traveled under Interstate 71. Overpasses and bridges created good ambush locations for attackers. Greg and Levi decided to hit it fast and keep their eyes peeled for trouble. In the end, nothing happened, and they were safely on their way and very close to the Carrollton charter town.
The Highway 55 route didn’t take them directly through the actual town of Carrollton but bypassed it on the west side of the little Kentucky River, which was good because both Levi and Greg were concerned that with Carrollton’s size and layout, it would be hard to police. They expected there would be a certain amount of chaos going on in Carrollton as in other cities of that size. Traveling up Highway 55 this close to their destination, they could occasionally see the Little Kentucky River to their right. “That’s the river that joins with the mighty Ohio River that forms the northeastern border of the Carrollton charter town location,” Greg explained. “Pretty soon, we’ll see a low rise to the left and the Ohio River in front of us.”
As they came around a bend in the road beside the river, Levi and Greg could see a new dock and a good deal of activity both in the road leading up to the town and in the smaller river. Levi spotted guards by the dock and at the bottom of the road from the town. Although they were trying to blend in and look innocuous, it was obvious what they were. On closer inspection, Levi recognized obscure guard platforms on the walls at the top of the hill as well.
Greg pulled the truck up next to one of the guards at the lower end of the road and said in a loud, affable voice, “Hi, we’re not from around here. How y’all doing?”
“Hello?” The guard appeared a bit confused by Greg’s loud and friendly demeanor.
“I’m Greg Simpson, and this here is my wife Cami. We’re friends of Vince Cavanaugh’s.” Greg hooked a thumb to the passenger seat. “This big galoot next to me is Levi Goldman. He’s a friend of Dave and Vince Cavanaugh both. We should be expected.”
The first guard spoke into his walkie talkie, while the second kept his battle rifle casually pointed toward the truck but down in a low ready position. Soon the first guard turned back to Greg and said, “Follow me up the hill. I’ll walk, so go slow. Welcome to Chartertown Carrollton.”
So Close
“Evil prevails when good men fail to act.”
- Edmund Burke
<< Vince >>
It was still dark as they prepared to leave Gus’s. They were back at full strength. The people and supplies were spread across four vehicles again. Gus generously offered them a repaired Nissan Pathfinder and said they could bring it back the next time they were up his way. He offered to retrieve the minivan and call it an even trade. Vince wasn’t in a position to argue.
After they were loaded up and ready to roll, Vince announced to the group, “If we make good time and luck is with us, we’ll make it home to Chartertown Carrollton tonight.” As they pulled out of Gus’s fortress, Vince looked back. It was still eerie seeing that pile of metal junk behind him move back into place. Even knowing what all was behind there, it was still hard to believe.
They made it through French Lick and then West Baden Springs with no incidents. From there, they headed east on Highway 150, which was known locally as part of Indiana’s historic pathway. Vince reflected that if the situation was different, driving down a beautiful scenic highway with a gorgeous movie star beside him might have been a lifetime highlight. Under the current circumstances, it merely made him feel old and responsible. More like the designated driver at a bachelor party than the lucky guy who got a date with the head cheerleader.
***
They expected trouble at Paoli, Indiana. With no good way to go around, Vince decided to hit it hard and fast with each vehicle about twenty yards apart. With trained combat drivers, he might have chosen to bunch up the formation more. Vince wanted them to be close enough to offer fire support, however not so close that one big hit or wreck could pile them up. Paoli surprised them by being pretty calm. While there was some evidence of past violence, there were several people going about their business as they might have normally. It made Vince feel foolish to have run through their town like some convoy from Mad Max.
From there they kept heading east, this time on Highway 56. At Salem, Indiana, there was no good way to go around without losing a lot of time. On this occasion, Vince chose to go through first in a scout position. He saw some places where people were bartering like it was a flea market. A few people tried to wave him down. Vince wasn’t sure why or what they thought he might have to trade. He made sure they could see he was armed and not stopping.
In her best Hollywood brat voice, Liz giggled and said, “We can’t possibly stop. I don’t see a Christian Louboutin booth. That’s simply barbaric.”
Surprising himself, Vince laughed with her. He radioed back to the other vehicles and told them to stay fairly close to each other this time and not race through town, although not to go slow enough to allow anyone to stop them, either. He broke his own radio protocol to say very clearly, “It’s important that no matter what you see, do not stop for anything.”
He previously warned them to be careful of the Walmart. It had clearly seen violence and looting, although now there were a lot of people camped out peacefully and trading. There was also a police presence in the massive parking lot. Even though that police presence and order could be a good thing, Vince didn’t want their group getting caught up in it. Right now, crowds represented danger for them. A policeman might be corrupt or might detain them for a day to ask questions about where they’d been or what they’d seen.
Vince parked his vehicle at the intersection of Jim Day Road and Highway 56, making sure he was behind a large, abandoned tractor trailer and positioned a little past the Walmart where he could watch, and he waited. He wanted his group to make it past here fast and get through before people took much notice of them.
He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until his people passed. He pulled out behind them and let out a huge exhale of air from deep in his lungs. He glanced over to find Liz had been watching him intently the whole time.
Vince didn’t want to test their luck a third time at Scottsburg, Indiana. The town was larger, and there was a perfect ambush site as they went under Interstate 65. He pulled ahead of the other vehicles and asked Liz to contact them on the walkie talkie to let them know he wanted them to prepare for a detour.
Vince wasn’t sure why he didn’t trust Scottsburg. Nevertheless, he had enough time in warzones to trust his instincts. If he was wrong, all it did was lengthen their drive some. If he was right and didn’t follow his instincts, the results could be catastrophic. He was a strong believer in the ability of the mind to assimilate hundreds of tiny facts into a mental picture or instinct. Just because at a moment’s notice you couldn’t recall everything you had observed to create that instinct didn’t mean it wasn’t valid.
On the outskirts of Scottsburg, Vince turned right on Boatman Road and headed south. Liz passed on the commands for the detour change to the rest of the group in the cryptic language they were all using. Vince took note that she was getting good at it and her confidence was growing.
He was trying to find a road called Leota that would take them over Interstate 65 in a place that was very unlikely to be guarded. That route would then take them on to Highway 356. After pausing to go over the map, Vince decided they would stay on 356 all the way to where it, Highway 62, and their original route of Highway 56 came together. Highway 356 was a small country road that came with its own risk. It would be easy to bloc
kade or set an ambush if someone wanted, even though unlikely on this route. Few people used this road, and because the route was not one that people would normally use, Vince didn’t think it would be a likely choice for most bandits. They were far enough in the country that the people who lived there wouldn’t allow thieves and bad people to set up shop in their area.
On Highway 56 a little ways past Thompson Road and before they got to the town of Hanover, Indiana, their luck ran out. There was a large crash scene involving semi-trucks that didn’t appear to be totally accidental, effectively blocking the road. Some of the trucks were burned, and to Vince’s trained eye, it was more likely a planned blockage than an accident. That thought was confirmed when he saw two men holding deer rifles standing right at the tree line near the vehicle impasse. They didn’t try to hide and made no threatening move toward Vince. For a brief moment, he considered walking up to them for a parlay. When he thought about the risk to the people behind him and the woman in the truck with him, he decided against doing so. If this was a planned blockage, then they needed to get moving fast before someone could come out of the woods or up from behind and catch them in a crossfire.
Vince spotted a dirt path around the wreckage that, if he were pushing his luck, he might have driven through, but the risk was still too great. Vince turned around and asked Liz to signal the convoy to do the same, instructing them to head north toward Thompson Road. The whole scene was odd because the men at the blockade didn’t act threatening.
When nothing bad happened, it made Vince consider that perhaps they weren’t bad buys and were merely protecting their homes. It was frustrating because Vince knew they were getting so close to Carrollton, and they kept getting slowed down. At least that’s better than getting shot at, Vince thought to himself.
They turned right from Thompson Road onto Highway 256 heading east to Madison, Indiana. The houses and business became more numerous. Vince was again riding point position a mile or so in advance when he heard a barrage of gunfire. There were multiple shooters by the dissimilar sounds of varied calibers of ammunition. He quickly instructed Liz to make a radio call for the rest to pull off and park at an old barn they’d passed a ways back. The barn was overgrown with bushes and trees and a great place for them to hide and take a break while Vince figured out what was going on and what to do about it.
Ahead of the main group, he pulled his truck behind a couple of cars and a tree on the north side of the road where he could get a view of the firefight. “Keep your gun ready and stay in the truck,” he instructed Liz. “Slouch down so you can’t be seen, but stay high enough that you have a clear field of vision. And don’t forget to watch your six, behind, I mean. When the action is most engaging to the front is when the killers like to creep up from behind.” He locked eyes with Liz. “Promise me you’ll remember those things.”
She nodded solemnly. Vince nodded back. He needed to get moving.
Of the two houses near where he hid the truck, one was obviously burned out and unoccupied. In the other home, Vince saw a young girl peek through the window before her mother pulled her back. The mom’s face displayed a mixture of resignation and terror. Vince had seen that look in the war-torn nations more than he wanted. He never wanted to see it this close to home.
Vince put his finger to his lips in the universal sign asking them to be quiet. He didn’t feel entirely safe with people at his back. However, he went with his instincts that they were not a threat. He needed to see what was going on with the gun battle at the intersection of Highway 256 and Highway 56, which was right where his group needed to go, and they were running out of detour options.
He worked his way around the base of a huge tree with a child’s swing in it, and he finally spotted the firefight. It wasn’t his fight, but they were in his way. Vince found a spot behind the tree and laid his .308 rifle with a scope over a limb holding the child’s swing to see the action clearer. It went against the grain not to intervene. He didn’t know who was in the right.
After some observation, he determined there was an older man with a teen boy on one side of the road behind a pickup truck with a flat tire. They were to Vince’s right on the grass beside the highway. To his left and on the other side of the intersection were three men howling and shooting without even aiming and a younger girl with her hands tied in their truck. It was clear they had the older man and the boy pinned down and were in no hurry. The rear end of their truck was damaged. The bumper and rear quarter were pushed into a shredded tire.
When the girl screamed, “Papaaaaww!” long and loud and one of the men backhanded her across the face, Vince knew immediately what side he was on. He had to help. Vince didn’t think of himself as a good man. Even so, he always believed that evil prevailed when good men failed to act. He could no more walk away from this than he could stop breathing.
He peered through the Nikon Monarch scope mounted atop his Winchester SX-AR .308 and sighted in on the ringleader. When the shot was clear, he took up the slack on the trigger. The rifle obeyed like an old dog; the bad guy didn’t. At the last moment, he moved to avoid a shot from the old man, causing Vince’s shot to hit him high in the thigh instead of center mass on the chest. The boom of the .308 and the blood spray from a gaping wound in their leader’s thigh shocked his companions. When one of them stood up above his coverage to see who was flanking them, the old man shot him in the neck. The third man walked down the street toward Vince as if he was drunk or on drugs. He began firing two handguns like some drugged-out gangster gunslinger. Few of the rounds even came close to Vince, although he did hear two pings against a metal dumpster not too far away. He sighted in and fired center mass at the thug. The big .308 core-lokt round dropped him where he stood without even a flinch or moan.
For a moment, Vince was back in the war. Hearing a voice behind him jolted him back to the present, and he spun, bringing his gun up. “You did all you could. You tried not to kill them. I saw you shoot the first one in the leg and wait to shoot the second till he was almost on you.”
“Aww hell, Liz. I thought I asked you to stay in the truck? You don’t need to see this.”
“Yeah, I startled you, though, the big bad warrior, didn’t I?” she quipped.
Vince paused, drew in a breath for an angry retort, then sighed and laughed at himself. He must be getting old, letting a young girl slip up behind him while he was woolgathering. “Go back to the truck while I get these bodies out of sight so everyone else doesn’t have to see them,” Vince admonished. “Please.”
“What about the one you shot in the leg? What will you do with him?”
“He’s a goner too,” Vince said. “I saw the spray of blood that indicated I hit an artery. If he isn’t dead already, he will be by the time I get there. So much for trying not to kill them, huh?”
He preferred that she thought that he tried not to kill the first one. It was best that she not know the places his mind went and the fury that raged through him during a battle.
Liz locked eyes with him for a brief moment in a serious way. “You’re doing good things for people. Keep your head in the game, cowboy.”
She turned and walked away, leaving Vince to wonder if her hips always swayed that way or she was just teasing him.
<< Liz >>
Liz was beginning to like Vince in much the same way a girl might like the friend of her older brother. He had a tortured soul. She saw the same things he did during the firefight and knew he did right. She could tell that the killing and the need for it was piling up in his mind and eating away at him.
This was a side of a conservative red-blooded American man that her Hollywood crowd would scoff at and never understand. He did so much for others and focused so much of his energy keeping others safe that he deserved a smile and a little emotional pick me up occasionally. As most women do, Liz knew when she was being watched. She put a little extra ka-ching in her sway walking away from Vince to the truck. When she was sure she had his attention, she glanced back
and winked. Just enough to let him know it wasn’t sexual, only fun, she giggled to herself as she moved the last few steps to the truck and got in.
<< Malik >>
Malik and Tid stopped at the top of a hill to observe the shots they heard. They worried earlier that they’d lost track of the convoy. The shooting helped them zero back in on their lost quarry.
They were too far away. The group was armed well and on alert now. They would have to bide their time for the right opportunity or find reinforcements.
Trust
“Courage is a perfect sensibility of the measure of danger, and a mental willingness to endure it.”
- William Sherman
<< Levi >>
Levi was impressed. He studied the walled compound on the top of the hill ahead of him and to his left, as well as the activity around the boat dock to his right. The dock was obviously new and was built so it could float up and down on the metal poles as the river level changed. He observed with anticipation the restaurant at the base of the hill that Greg mentioned earlier and Vince told him about. Although he should keep kosher, sometimes he cheated. If things stayed as bad as Dave warned, following his religious dietary dictates was going to become a lot more difficult.
As he entered the city, what Levi noticed most was the activity and attitude. Most places and people were hunkering down during this period of national unrest. Many people across the country were afraid and in hiding or protection mode. Only the outlaws were out enjoying the breakdown in law and order. Here people were industrious, working hard and smiling, the security people well-armed but not in uniform. While the soldier in Levi wanted them in uniform, the practical side understood the value in having them blend in. A well-armed and uniformed security team indicated something of value worth securing. The Carrollton site had the vibe of normal people protecting their homes.
