Town at the Edge of Darkness

by Brett Battles

  Ricky had said he found the pickup on Rally’s property, but hadn’t said where. She’d assumed it had been parked at the house, but it could have been here at the barn.

  She focused on what she could see of the back of the mansion. No lights were on in any of the visible windows, nor did she detect any movement. But as she knew from the satellite image, the place was big. She couldn’t be looking at more than a third of it, so the rest of the house could be filled with people.

  Dammit, Ricky. Where are you guys?

  When Liesel and Harris reached her, she lowered the binoculars and said into the comm, “Dylan, ETA?”

  “How about now?”

  All three of them turned to find Dylan emerging from the trees behind them.

  “Afternoon, ladies,” he whispered as he crouched next to Ananke. “So, what’s the plan?”

  Ananke said, “You and Morgan will stay here and watch the barn, while Liesel and I check the—”

  “I hear a motor,” Liesel said.

  Ananke cocked her head and heard it, too. It was hard to tell where it was coming from, other than the general direction beyond the mansion.

  “How far is the road that runs through the estates from here?” she asked Harris.

  “Grand Way? It’s got to be at least a couple hundred yards beyond the house.”

  The rumble grew louder and louder.

  “Then it must be coming up the driveway,” Ananke said.

  Though they were well hidden already, Ananke and the others backed a few feet deeper into the woods as the roar increased. A cargo van came into view as it rounded the side of Rally’s mansion.

  Ananke sensed Harris tense. “Do you recognize it?”

  “I’ve seen a couple just like it in town before,” Harris said.

  “Who do they belong to?”

  “I’ve never had to stop one so I don’t know.”

  “No logos or company name on them?”

  “Not the ones I saw.”

  As the van continued toward them, Ananke’s phone vibrated with a call. She reached into her pocket and pushed the button that sent the call to voice mail.

  She trained her binoculars on the van. “Two men in the cab. They look fairly young.”

  Harris, looking through her own glasses, said, “The driver’s Justin Keller and his friend is Aaron Sherwood. They graduated high school two or three years ago.”

  “Trouble?”

  “They spent more than their fair share of time at the station when they were still in school, but I don’t think they’ve been back since they started working for Slater.”

  Ananke’s phone vibrated twice with a text, but she kept her eyes on the van as it pulled up next to the barn, parking in the same area where she’d seen the tire tracks.

  Keller and Sherwood hopped out. While Keller headed to the barn door, Sherwood disappeared around the back of the vehicle.

  Ananke kept her eyes on Keller. He touched the wall near the door, released a hinged panel, and tapped something within the recess several times. He then shut the panel and pulled the barn door open. Clearly the building was more than it pretended to be.

  “They are not alone,” Liesel whispered.

  Ananke looked back at the van. Sherwood had stepped out from around the back end, accompanied by two more young males.

  Harris grunted. “Caleb Fredericks and Orel Johnson. Two more of Slater’s screw-ups. They both graduated last year.”

  “Which one’s which?”

  “Johnson’s the taller one.”

  “Is it just me, or do they look like they could all be brothers?” Dylan said.

  It was true. All four were Caucasian, within an inch or two on either side of six feet, and had similar brown hair, cut military style. They were dressed identically, too, in jeans and gray T-shirts.

  The group talked for a moment in front of the barn door, then three of them went inside while Fredericks jogged over to the back of the van and moved out of sight again. When he reappeared seconds later, he carried an M4 rifle. He jogged back to the barn door and took up sentry duty.

  “Liesel.” Ananke nodded toward the trees on the other side of the van. “Work your way over there and see if you can get a view into the back of the van.”

  Liesel nodded and vanished into the woods.

  Ananke kept her attention on Fredericks, knowing he would give them the first indication the others were returning.

  Two minutes passed.

  Three.

  Then…

  “In position.” Liesel’s voice, soft over the comm.

  “What do you see?” Ananke asked.

  “Racks on both sides of the van, with two wide shelves each.”

  Ananke did not like the sound of that.

  “Movement,” Dylan whispered.

  Fredericks had turned to face inside the barn, and appeared to be talking to someone. Though they couldn’t hear what was being said, Ananke did pick up the faint rattle of wheels on wood.

  A few seconds later, Fredericks stepped to the side and Keller exited, followed by a kid who hadn’t been in the van but shared the group’s compulsion to dress alike. He, too, was carrying an assault rifle.

  “Vander Keane,” Harris whispered.

  Another one of Slater’s rescues, Ananke assumed.

  Keller said something to Keane that directed him to the back of the van, where he took a guard stance, rifle ready. Fredericks assumed a similar position near the front of the van, facing the direction of Ananke and her team.

  Keller disappeared inside the barn momentarily and then walked back out in reverse, pulling one end of a metal cart. Stretched on top was the unconscious body of a man. The other end of the cart was being pushed by Sherwood.

  Ananke focused the binoculars on the prone man. An African-American, around forty, clothes smudged with dirt. His chest moved up and down so at least he wasn’t dead.

  “Do you know the guy on the cart?” she asked Harris.

  Harris shook her head, frowning, and lowered her glasses. “You weren’t lying about the trafficking thing, were you?”

  “We weren’t lying about anything.”

  “Except our names,” Dylan said. “Oh, and why we were here. And—”

  Ananke glared at him.

  “What?”

  She focused back on the van and the two men wheeling the cart to the rear. When they moved out of view, she said, “Liesel, what do you see?”

  “The person on the table is being moved into the van. Now they are putting him on one of the shelves.”

  When the transfer was complete, Sherwood pushed the cart back into the barn, with Keller following. After a short pause, a second cart rolled out with Keller once again in front, only this time with Johnson pushing.

  “Uh, Ananke. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Dylan asked.

  Ananke’s grip on her binoculars had tightened. She was indeed seeing what Dylan was seeing.

  “What is it?” Harris asked.

  “That’s Ricky,” Ananke whispered through clenched teeth.

  The men rolled Ricky behind the van.

  “They are loading him in,” Liesel said. “Top spot on the right.”

  When cart number three came out—pushed by Sherwood—Ananke knew exactly who would be on it.

  “Say the word and we can take them down right now,” Dylan said, when he realized the unconscious passenger was Rosario. “They’re a bunch of kids. They don’t stand a chance.”

  He was right. Two quick shots would take down the sentries, and the team could neutralize the two men at the cart before the assholes realized what had happened. They might have to work a little to get Johnson, who’d headed back into the barn, but it would be easy enough. If Ananke and the others mounted a rescue right now, however, they would likely damage the chances of taking down everyone involved and uncovering the full scope of the operation.

  “I wish we could,” Ananke whispered. “But we need to find out where they’re going first. I w
ant you to go back to Ricky’s bike and follow them on it. We’ll catch up to you as soon as we can.”

  She could tell Dylan was a bit disappointed, but he nodded and headed into the woods.

  “They are putting Rosario on the shelf below Ricky,” Liesel reported.

  The men returned to the barn, and Keller and Johnson rolled out a fourth cart. Ananke was watching through her binoculars so she didn’t notice Harris move until she heard the crunch of leaves under the woman’s foot. Ananke grabbed Harris by the waist and yanked her down behind a bush.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “Let me go. That’s Tasha.”

  Harris tried to break free, but Ananke had more than enough strength to hold her where she was.

  “Stop. It’s not her.”

  “Your friends are there. It has to be her.”

  “Use your binoculars.”

  Harris lifted her binoculars. When she lowered them again, she looked crestfallen.

  “I thought…I mean…”

  “You wanted it to be her. Our friends were there so why not Tasha, too.”

  “Maybe she’s in the barn.”

  “Or maybe she’s wherever the van’s going. She could be anywhere.”

  “She’s alive. I know she is.”

  “I believe you,” Ananke said, meaning she believed Harris believed that.

  Harris took a few deep breaths. “You can let me go now.”

  “You promise to stay with me?”

  A beat. “I promise.”

  Ananke let her go. As Harris tried to right herself, her hand slipped on some needles and she fell forward into the brush.

  “Freeze,” Ananke whispered.

  Fredericks’s gaze had whipped in their direction at the sound of the branches rustling. He stared into the woods for a moment, and took a few tentative steps toward them.

  Having finished returning the fourth cart to the barn, Keller, Johnson, and Sherwood came outside again, this time not pushing any cargo. When Keller realized Fredericks had moved from his position, he walked toward him.

  “Problem?” the driver asked, his voice raised just enough to carry into the woods.

  “I heard something.”

  “A person?”

  “Not sure. Something moving around in the bushes.”

  Keller stared into the woods. “I don’t see anything. Do you?”

  Fredericks frowned. “No.”

  “Has there been any more noise?”

  “Nothing after that first time.”

  Both men were silent for a few moments.

  “Probably a bird or something,” Keller said. “Come on. We need to keep to the schedule.”

  Keller turned and walked back to the van. After a moment’s hesitation, Fredericks did the same. All four men who’d arrived in the vehicle climbed back inside it, while Keane reentered the barn and closed the door.

  “Dylan, tell me you’re ready,” Ananke said into her comm.

  “Having a little…problem…getting—” The roar of an engine erupted over the comm. “Yep. All set.”

  “Get out to the highway. They’re leaving now.”

  “Copy.”

  Across the way, the van made a Y-turn and drove toward the house.

  “I’m sorry,” Harris said.

  “You slipped. It happens. Just let it be the only time.”

  “It will be.”

  Once the van disappeared behind Rally’s mansion, Ananke said, “Everyone back to the car.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dylan didn’t waste time finding a way through the hills back to the highway. Instead, he took Grand Way to the main exit, and sped past the guard shack before the guy inside had a chance to look out the window.

  At the highway, he found a spot just to the south, where he could see the start of the entrance road to the estates, but was hidden enough that the guys in the van wouldn’t notice him when they drove out.

  Not much more than a minute later, the van stopped at the intersection with the highway. Instead of turning south, as Dylan had anticipated, it went north.

  Dylan eased back onto the highway and settled in a comfortable distance behind the van.

  He activated his mic and shouted over the noise of the road. “Ananke, come in.” When he received no response, he tried again.

  “Go for Ananke.” Her voice swam in a river of static as it challenged the range of the comm.

  “On the highway, in pursuit of the van, northbound.”

  “Dylan…ou repeat?”

  “In pursuit of the van, northbound on the highway.”

  “Dy…ease…an…wa…ound?”

  “North,” he yelled. “Go north.”

  Dead air.

  “Ananke?”

  No answer.

  “Ananke?”

  He’d have to use his phone once he had the opportunity to stop. Until then, his mission was clear. Don’t lose the van.

  Onward they went, paralleling the river, along the same path Ricky had brought Dylan the previous night when they visited the solar farm. It wasn’t too long, in fact, before they neared that very turnoff. Dylan thought there was a good chance the van’s destination lay somewhere in the farm’s direction, but the other vehicle blew right past the road and continued northward.

  The setting sun had begun to cool the air that rushed over Dylan’s gloveless hands. But his knuckles weren’t the only things that ached. His arms and chest felt the chill, too. While Ricky’s helmet had been with the bike, his leather jacket and riding gloves had not. Dylan wasn’t dressed for a long motorcycle ride through the country, so he did the only thing he could—grit his teeth and try to not think about it.

  Twenty minutes beyond the solar farm turnoff, in the middle of what looked like nowhere, the van slowed. Its brake lights glowed in the twilight. Dylan, a few hundred yards back, contemplated slowing, too, but that might make the guys in the van suspicious. So he continued at his current speed and eased into the other lane as he neared them. Though he really wanted to glance over, he kept his face forward as he passed, like he had no interest in them at all.

  For a few moments, the van’s headlights lit the road as Dylan headed away from them, then they disappeared. He glanced over his shoulder. The van was no longer there.

  He squeezed on the brakes, made a U-turn, and raced back to where the vehicle had been. He spotted an entrance to a road leading into the woods. He’d missed it because he’d kept his gaze forward as he passed by.

  He pulled onto the shoulder, parked the bike, then jogged over to the turnoff. The road had been blacktopped once, portions of the old surface visible here and there. Now it was mostly dirt. About a hundred feet down, it veered to the right, explaining why he couldn’t see the van now.

  He returned to the motorcycle, but before continuing his pursuit, he retrieved his mobile and texted Ananke the GPS coordinates of the turnoff.

  Back on the bike, he headed down the dirt road, his lights off and his speed no more than fifteen miles per hour. The forest thickened the farther he went, turning the twilight into night. On and on he drove with no sign of the van. He’d been keeping an eye out for intersecting roads and hadn’t passed a single one, so he knew the vehicle had to be still in front of him somewhere. The situation finally changed after he’d been going for nearly fifteen minutes.

  A new road led only to the left. He parked where it began and scanned it. It was almost a carbon copy of the one he’d been on. Almost. The major difference was the fifteen foot-tall secured gate straddling the road, approximately fifty feet away. Attached to each side was a matching fence. There didn’t appear to be any guards, but he had no doubt there were cameras.

  Though he was sure he was in the right place, he pulled out his flashlight and checked the intersection for tire tracks. Several showed up in the beam, the top set matching the ones he’d seen back at the highway turnoff.

  With the van beyond the gate, his tailing mission had come to a
n end. But that didn’t mean Dylan had to sit on his hands until the others arrived.

  He rolled Ricky’s motorcycle into the woods, parked it where it wouldn’t be seen, and set out at an angle toward a part of the fence fifty yards away from the gate. When the wall of wire mess came into view, he knelt and studied the area beyond it via the night-vision mode on his binoculars. He didn’t spot any cameras, but that wasn’t proof they weren’t there. He changed the binoculars’ setting again, this time to thermal.

  Whoa!

  He’d been hoping to pick up heat generated by any active cameras, but instead the whole fence lit up.

  The damn thing was electrified.

  Great.

  He concentrated on the trees beyond the fence. They all remained cool, so probably didn’t contain any working electronics. This wasn’t particularly shocking, now that he had a better sense of the fence. Why waste a good camera on unnecessary surveillance when you had an electrified fence?

  Getting to the other side was a problem he couldn’t solve on his own.

  He texted Ananke again, updating his GPS location. She replied immediately, telling him they were twenty minutes out.

  Deciding he might as well do something useful in the interim, he began walking the fence, hoping to find a weakness.

  Ananke, Liesel, and Harris hiked quickly back into the hills where they’d left the sedan. As they climbed the slope, they heard Dylan’s voice on the comm, his words coming through in bits and pieces that most of the time made no sense. Twice Ananke heard the fragment “orth,” and thought he was telling them to go north. Confirmation of this came soon after they began driving out of the hills, when Dylan’s text arrived with GPS coordinates for where they should turn off the highway.

  A second set of coordinates came in as they raced north. Liesel, acting navigator, input the info on her phone and said, “It is approximately seven miles east of the highway.”

  “What is it? A town?” Ananke asked.

  “According to the map, there is nothing there. Switching to satellite.” A pause. “There is a structure about three-quarters of a mile northeast of the coordinates.”

  “A house?”

  “If it is, it is a very large one.”

  “May I see?” Harris said from the backseat.