The Colonel stood ready to fight, but Andrew stopped himself before combat began. "You sumbitch," he started, his voice trembling with anger. "You come into this town and you lock us all away. We cain't talk to no one, we cain't even see our friends in the hospital. You come into town and you make us stay inside." Andrew stood with fists ready and legs spread wide apart. Despite the unbridled fury on his face, tears were starting to spring forth from his narrowed eyes. He blinked angrily, as if to deny the tears. "All because you want that fucking thing over there. That's just fine. I don't give a good goddamn about that thing anyway." Andrew stepped forward, pointing with his right index finger while his arm shook with suppressed rage. "But I'm gonna look for my boy, and my friends are gonna help me. You want to try and stop me, you come on, right here and right now. I swear to God, I'll kick your fuckin' head in if you get in my way."
"I've about had it with you people. I'm trying to make this as painless as I can, and you still give me crap. You will not look for your son, Mister Wander. That option is gone." Despite the buzzing quality of his voice, Anderson's anger was still apparent. He turned to look at the crowd, taking his eyes off Andrew Wander. "You will return to your homes, all of you." He looked back at Andrew and, in spite of the mask that hid his features, Karen would have sworn he was gloating. "Effective immediately, the curfew in this town is fulltime. Consider yourselves under house arrest."
Andrew Wander struck the Colonel with all the fury of an angry god. He did not walk or run to meet his enemy, he leaped. There was no batde cry from Andrew's lips, but half of the people there supplied one for him. The Colonel may have been prepared, but he was not prepared enough. Andrew reached out and slammed his fist into the faceplate covering the man's face, as if he had forgotten that the breathing apparatus was there. Something in Andrew's hand or the Colonel's armor made a dull snapping sound, Part of the Colonel's lower jaw slid into view, and Karen knew immediately that he could not see. The lenses on his faceplate were half-hidden beneath the edge of his helmet in an instant.
The landscaper didn't give his enemy a chance to recover. Andrew grabbed the man at crotch and throat and lifted him from the ground a second time. Karen clearly saw the rapidly swelling lump on Andrew's right hand as he hoisted the Colonel above his head. Instead of throwing his opponent, Andrew slammed the man into the ground with all of his might in a move he must have learned watching professional wrestling. The ground Colonel Anderson hit was much harder than the mats used by the pros. The mask that covered the Colonel's face was knocked away, along with the helmet that had protected his skull. As the man gasped for breath, Andrew dropped to his knees and began pistoning one fist after the other into the Colonel's face.
Karen felt sure that the Colonel was a goner. Neither Frank nor the soldier with the clipboard made any move to interfere. When other soldiers came rushing forward, the Colonel's second stopped them with a gesture. Anderson had made clear before that he'd handle it, and that was exactly the way it was going to be.
Then Anderson lifted one of his hands in a blurring chop that caught Andrew full in the throat. Andrew gasped for breath, falling away from his enemy and clutching at his neck. Both men spent a second or two on their knees, gasping and recovering. Then they rose and the fighting began again. Despite several lacerations on his face, the Colonel seemed composed and ready for anything. Andrew was still in a rage, and in the end that cost him dearly. He came at the Colonel with a wild swing and the man stepped back out of range before moving in again and landing several hard jabs to Andrew's ribs and stomach. The air left Andrew in an audible whoosh, and the fight went out of him. The Colonel either did not notice or did not care. He followed through with a savage elbow strike to the side of the Andrew's head, and then finished the fight for good by kicking him in the ribs with enough force to knock the landscaper off his feet. Several wet, popping sounds came from Andrew's side, and the man screamed as he went to the ground.
Karen and the rest of the crowd stared at Anderson. Finally, after a few silent seconds, Sam Morrisey and a man Karen had never seen before moved forward and started examining Andrew where he lay, unconscious, in the grass.
Anderson moved, slowly at first as if uncertain of his own balance. He walked over to where Frank Osborn was standing and stopped, looking first at the crowd and then at his men. "You have until seventeen hundred hours. You've got twenty of my men. One of my men will go with each group. Anything happens to any of my men, and I'll personally kill two civilians for each one who gets hurt. Do we have an understanding?"
Frank Osborn looked at him for a few seconds. Then he nodded. "Thank you, Colonel."
"Don't ask me for any more favors. Next time someone in this shithole town disappears, I will have everyone placed under house arrest. I've got enough problems without this bullshit." The Colonel spit a stream of bloody saliva from his mouth and walked back towards his tent, stopping once to pick up his helmet and mask. He looked over at his second and spoke briefly. Every word was perfectly clear in Karen's ears. "Twenty men. Anyone tries to escape, shoot 'em. Get me a fucking medic. My head hurts."
"Sir, yes, sir."
Ten minutes later, after Sam Morrisey had come back with medical tape to patch up Andrew Wander's broken ribs, Frank Osborn and the man with the clipboard began dividing the volunteers into groups. Five minutes after that, the search parties began the arduous task of searching the woods.
2
The sun had reached its zenith and was beginning a slow arc towards the western horizon when Karen found Mike Summers. Lack of preparation, combined with the intense heat of the day, had forced over thirty people to retreat back into their homes. A few of them had to be carried, and that took still more people from the search for the missing boys.
Karen was hungry and frustrated, more than ready to call it quits herself. She was walking along the edge of the perimeter established by the soldiers. Her skin felt tight and hot, and her mouth refused to keep enough moisture to allow her to swallow. Despite the fact that she was supposed to be looking through the woods, her eyes stayed on the ground for the most part. Even lifting her head was proving an effort.
She'd cut herself a few minutes earlier. Forgetting that the barrier beside her was composed of wire and razor blades, she'd foolishly let herself get too close and was rewarded with a stinging wound on her right elbow. After that, she stayed a little farther away from the wire wall.
If she hadn't been looking down she might never have seen Mike's bicycle. The density of the razorwire made seeing though it almost impossible, and for that reason no one paid it much attention after the first few minutes. After a short time, everyone simply accepted that Mike could never have gotten tangled in that mess. It was easy to forget that the wire was, in fact, only solid in appearance. Despite the great loops of tightly woven material, there was still a substantial amount of open space in the center of the structure.
So when Karen saw the shredded remains of the bike tire, it came as something of a shock. Seeing anything disrupt the symmetry of the barrier was almost as unusual as seeing something pass partially through a brick wall. The tire was in ruins, with little but shreds of black rubber hanging loosely over the aluminum rim. Karen stared for a few moments, puzzled by the oddity before the implications finally sank in. After that she called out as loudly as her parched throat would permit and studied what she could see of the Schwinn. The bright red paint of the bike's frame could only be seen if she looked very carefully. From what she could make out, it looked for all the world as if Mike had rammed the bike into the barrier while popping a wheelie. The handlebars stopped at the height of her chest and the front wheel, equally shredded, was almost at the level of her eyes. The bicycle hung suspended within the network of wires like a fly trapped in a spider's web.
Even as she heard the sounds of several people responding to her call, Karen spotted Mike Summers. Or at least what was left of him. Somehow the boy had managed to get himself into the interior of the razorwire
loops, and there he hung, his arms and legs snared by the blades of the barrier. From all appearances, he had almost managed to break through to the other side before he slipped. Heavy gloves on his hands had not stopped the blades from cutting through to the bones of his fingers. The sweatshirt he wore had only briefly prevented the razors from biting deeply into his skin. Worst of all, at least one blade had caught hold of Mike's face. The gash ran across his mouth and up to his cheek, lending an eerie, silent smile to the boy's once-handsome features. Both of his eyes were wide open, and Karen stared into the lifeless orbs for several seconds before remembering how to breathe.
She started to reach for the wire, desperate to help Mike before he bled to death. Despite the rational knowledge that he must have surely already expired, her mind demanded action. Every instinct she had cried out to make his pain go away.
Black gauntleted hands reached out and stopped her an instant before she would have caused permanent injury to herself. She struggled for a moment before realizing what she had almost done to herself. The strong hands pulled her back, and a buzzing voice spoke softly to her. "No, Karen. We can't have you hurting yourself, can we?" A second later she was handed to someone else. All she saw clearly was the back of the soldier's armored body as he pushed the wires apart and carefully crawled into the interior of the deadly barrier.
Several of the townsfolk watched helplessly as he gently pulled the murderous blades from the boy's body. Mike Summers did not slump when he was released from the wires. His body was as stiff as if it had been carved from wood. Extracting the corpse from the razorwire trap took a long time, and Karen could hear the man grunt with exertion as he finally backed out of the snare, protecting the dead body from further injury, despite the lacerations he received wherever his own body was not armored. A few moments later, he gently laid the body on the ground and stood up. Many of the people in the crowd wanted to blame someone for what had happened. Like as not, they wanted to blame the soldier who stood with them. Despite the anger they felt, no one said a word. They simply stared at the empty shell that once had been Mike Summers. Mike was known to all of them. He was a clown and a daredevil. More than one person there had commented that the toy's luck would run out one day, and he'd end up getting himself killed. Time had proved them right, but not a one of them felt the least bit smug about it.
Five, perhaps even ten minutes later, three more of the soldiers came through the woods. One of them produced a body bag. A few people mumbled or coughed as the boy was sealed from sight. No one spoke. The search party left the site just an hour before the Colonel's imposed curfew. They'd gone out to find two boys and returned with only one body. They'd left town a search party and come back a funeral procession.
It was only later that night, as she was preparing herself for bed, that Karen thought to wonder how the soldier had known her name. By then he was not available to answer her.
3
The next day they found Marty Wander's bike in the lakebed. From that point on everything just seemed to go straight to hell. Karen was at the high school cum hospital, waiting for her father to come back out from his first round with the injured folk in town, when she heard the news. Arnetta Wilcox came over to her, her hair a mess and sweat stains under her armpits. She was such a sight that it took Karen a moment to realize what she was talking about. She had to ask Arnetta to repeat herself.
"I said they found Marty Wander's bicycle. It's down at the lake, near that great big eyesore." Arnetta sounded exasperated and tired, but her eyes still held that secretive gloating light they had whenever she was first on the scene with the news. Despite everything going on, Karen knew the woman was enjoying herself. In that moment she hated the old woman.
"There's no sign of Marty?"
"No," Arnetta said. She then leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "And I don't think there'll be any news. If they could hide the wreck from that helicopter, I suspect they could hide a body."
"Oh, for God's sake, Arnetta. Tell me you haven't been saying that to other people." Karen felt her eyes bulge at the thought.
"I most certainly have. Everyone has a right to know, don't they?" The look on the woman's face said much more. It said she liked causing trouble. She didn't care to just tell the news; she enjoyed the chance to elaborate and explain her personal opinions.
"Did you ever think that people might go and do something stupid if they believed that, Arnetta? Did you think maybe they'd want to accuse the Colonel?" By the slowly dawning look of horror on Arnetta's face, Karen knew for a certainty that the thought had never been allowed to register. That the woman had considered the option had been a given in Karen's mind. But Arnetta hadn't let the thought catch on.
Karen thought about her father inside the high school, and then she thought about the potential mess at the lake. "Does Frank Osborn know about this?"
"Why, I don't think so. He wasn't in his office when I went by."
Karen moved away from the school, hoping her father would be all right without her. He'd looked much worse for the wear this morning and she was already feeling guilty about not being at his side the day before. Just the same, Frank had to be told about this before anything could get too ugly.
Frank was a creature of habit, and Karen hoped that was still the case. As she had two days before, Karen moved towards the Hav-A-Feast Diner, ignoring the heat beating down on her. Frank normally ate at the diner. It was close to his office and Laurie always gave the police a discount. While the day was technically a little too young for lunch, Frank was also the sort who preferred to eat his breakfast late. She'd heard plenty of stories about Frank's habits from Laurie, who she was convinced had a crush on the man, despite the twenty years separating them.
She was almost at the door when Frank Osborn came out of the faded chrome and glass diner with a look of pure desperation on his face. "Damn that stupid old cow to hell, Buck. Why can't she ever leave good enough alone?"
Buck Landers came out of the door half a foot behind him, looking about ready to shoot something. "It's just her nature, Frank. Arnetta don't mean to cause any harm. She's just too slow fer her own good."
"You heard what Arnetta's been saying?" Karen spoke out even as the police chief was preparing to snap a comment back at his second in command. Frank looked over at her, his eyebrows lowered and his nostrils flared like an angry bull's. After a few seconds his face softened just slightly and he nodded. "Good. I was just on my way to warn you."
Frank pointed a finger at Karen as he started walking towards his Mustang. She'd seen his cruiser at the office on her way over, but she figured he must surely have his reasons for not driving it. "You tell Arnetta that I had best not see her. I'll slap her in jail if this gets ugly. I'll find a reason."
Karen nodded as he yanked the driver's side door open, practically leaping into the car. Buck nodded to her as he climbed into his own squad car and in moments both of them were gone, heading towards the lake.
Karen stood for a few moments outside of the diner, contemplating what to do next. Then she moved towards her own car and started for the lake herself. Maybe she couldn't help, but she would at least know what was happening. Even as she moved in that direction she chastised herself for being only a little better than Arnetta Wilcox about the subject. At least she wasn't going around and spreading rumors.
4
The lake looked much the same as it had the day before. The biggest difference was that five hundred or so people were not there to watch as Frank and the Colonel began arguing again. That, and the Colonel was no longer wearing a helmet or a mask. Both were absent.
"That's fine. You don't have to listen to my warnings, Colonel. But I can feel a little better knowing that you have been warned."
"I have every intention of listening, Captain Osborn. I'm just not overly concerned."
"That's your option."
"I'm not concerned because I'm not going to play any more games. If anyone attempts any violence on me or my men
, they will be killed."
"You're serious, aren't you?" Frank's face was pale, and he looked angry.
"Deadly serious. I've lost three men now, Osborn. I'm no longer playing games."
"Three?"
Three? What's happening to his men? Is it radiation? Karen felt her stomach tightening. If something was killing the soldiers in their armor, what was happening to the people of Collier?
"Oh. That's right. You weren't informed. Two of our men didn't report in last night. We found them in the same shape as the first one. It seems pairing them up has not been as effective as we'd hoped."
"I'm sorry about that, Colonel."
"Bullshit. You couldn't care less. I wouldn't in your position." The Colonel paused to take a sip of coffee from a dark blue mug he was carrying. "You have your job to do and I have mine. Yours involves keeping the peace. Mine involves that thing in the lake." He gestured with his head to the shiny mountain of metal reaching past the edge of what was Lake Oldman. "You've done your job admirably, Captain. I commend you." The man was handsome enough, in a military way, with his ramrod posture and his haircut even shorter than Frank's flattop. But the look on his face was almost too serene for the circumstances, and Karen found that more unsettling than the anger she'd seen on his face the day before. "Now it's time for me to handle my job. That includes defending myself from anyone stupid enough to attack me. We will defend ourselves, Frank. There will be no survivors if we are attacked."
Frank stood still, looking at the man with a face that could not settle on a single expression. "You're gonna gun down anyone who protests? Anyone who comes here wondering about the bike in the lake bed?"
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