Troop of Shadows

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  She hated hearing the word spoken aloud. She nodded.

  “And this sociopath also has certain skills with firearms?”

  “So he says. I’ve not seen him in action though. There’s something else you probably should know.”

  “Goodness, there’s more? Okay, lay it on me, Doc.”

  “You’re familiar with savant syndrome?”

  “I believe so. That’s someone who has an extraordinary talent or ability in a specific area. Did I get it right?”

  “Yes. That’s it, basically. There are different types of savants...splinter skill, talented, acquired, etc. Oftentimes, they’re mentally disabled, but in some cases they’re not. Those people are considered prodigies. The splinter skilled and talented savants are by far the most common types. Splinter skilled savants show a remarkable ability to memorize things: historical facts, license plate numbers, phone books. There was a German boy who memorized The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire verbatim and could recite it forward and backward.

  “Then there are the talented and acquired savants. They are either born with a savant ability or acquire it as a result of brain trauma. I believe Logan falls into one of these two categories. These individuals exhibit vastly superior skills in a specific area. That area may be music or mathematics, or a mechanical talent that requires exceptional eye-hand coordination.”

  She paused in her explanation, hesitant to continue.

  “So there is a worst-to-the-fourth-power option as well, Doc? In addition to everything else, am I hearing that our companion might be a sociopathic weapons expert?”

  It sounded more sinister coming from a stranger’s mouth than it had in her head.

  She nodded.

  “Julia, why have you hitched your wagon to such a potentially dangerous young man?”

  She’d asked herself that same question more times then she could count. She still didn’t have the answer.

  ###

  Logan knew he had to be quick. He’d been thinking of ways to get rid of the old man ever since he’d refused to show him how to tie all those knots. Also he just plain didn’t like him. Something made him want to squeeze the old man by his skinny black neck and watch his eyeballs bulge like the little guy back at the Shell station. But what he really hated was how Julia talked to him. It was different from how she talked to Logan. She used lots of big words and the old man seemed to understand them. It might even be some kind of code, but he wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with magic. He’d seen evidence of Julia’s magic, but so far he hadn’t seen any of the tricks the Thoozy person claimed to know. Sometimes those black eyes would just stare at him when Julia wasn’t looking. It felt like they were looking deep down inside him. The old man didn’t smile when he did this. Not like he always smiled at Julia. Maybe when he stared like that, he was seeing what Logan was thinking. Could that be how his magic worked? What if he could see Logan’s memories and knew what he’d done to all those animals and people?

  Hopefully when the Thoozy person had been looking at his thoughts, he hadn’t seen Logan’s plan for getting rid of him. It was a plan that would happen in the next few minutes.

  He thought his trick of saying he needed to do-his-business was pretty smart. He hadn’t needed to go at all and was now hiding behind a truck a little ways-away from their car. He was on the same side as the Thoozy person. He would have preferred to use his rifle for this shot, but he thought Julia might tell him not to take any gun at all, or worse, she might raise her eyebrow at him. She always did that when he said stuff that he probably shouldn’t have said out loud. The Bad Thoughts told him to shut-the-hell-up and to only talk about safe stuff.

  He rested his forearms on the bed of the truck, holding his Ruger 9mm in a relaxed two-handed grip. Even though he shot better with the Sig Sauer tactical rifle, he loved his Ruger the best. It was a beautiful killing machine, and it felt at home in his hands. One eye squeezed shut while the other sighted the white cotton ball head in the back seat of the Rover. He breathed out half of his breath, just like always, and began to squeeze the trigger.

  “Logan! Are you done? What’s taking you so long?” Julia’s voice came from the car. With a smile, he continued the gentle squeeze.

  The cotton ball head vanished.

  What the heck? It’s like he’d just disappeared-into-thin-air. The old man must have vanishing magic.

  “Logan!”

  “Coming, Julia!” he hollered, baffled by what had just happened. He’d been so close to getting rid of the pesky old man. “I had to go number two!”

  Frustrated, he replaced the pistol in its holster and jogged back to the Rover. When he hopped in, the old man still sat in the back seat, just as he’d been before.

  Yes, he definitely had vanishing magic. No doubt about it. Logan would need to be very careful of the Thoozy person.

  The old man said, “Would either of you like a protein bar? I had a few stashed in my pack on the floor.” He waved the cellophane packages.

  Logan ignored him. He didn’t want anything from the Thoozy person. They were probably poisoned anyway.

  Chapter 42

  Kansas

  They’d driven twenty-five miles on I70 before parking and taking to the surrounding farmland on foot. According to Lisa, the interstate would be heavily monitored east and west of Hays. Steven’s plan was for two small scouting parties to approach from the north and south. Each group would contain three people, a Motorola walkie talkie, a pair of high-powered binoculars, and a variety of firearms in case they got into trouble.

  The Indian summer sun bore down on Steven, Jeffrey, and Tung as they crouched in a desiccated cornfield. Steven thought the noise of the cicadas, which ebbed and flowed, sounded like castanets played by a thousand tiny Spanish dancers. He squinted through the lenses, frowning at what he saw.

  “What is it, Dad?”

  “I can see the Best Western. There are two men standing out front with rifles.”

  “See! Lisa was right.”

  “That only corroborates part of our suspicions, Jeff.”

  “Do we actually have to see them hurt people to know they’re doing it?”

  He looked at his son. “What we’re contemplating is serious business. We need proof that those men are as bad as we think they are before we act. While I have no doubt Lisa is telling the truth, we don’t know anything about the woman who gave her the information.”

  Jeffrey processed the words then nodded. “Okay, you’re right.”

  Tung watched the exchange without comment.

  Steven lifted the binoculars. “Someone is coming out. It’s a female. Young...maybe early twenties. There’s a man behind her. She’s standing with her hands behind her back. The two men that were outside are talking to the man with the girl. They all have guns. Now the one that came out with the girl is pushing her from behind. They’re walking down the street. I think I see handcuffs, which explains why her hands are still behind her back. Uh oh. She stopped and is shaking her head. Goddamn it, the bastard just hit her. They’re walking again. She just stumbled. She’s on her knees now. The man is pointing his gun in her face. Oh shit. They have some kind of pillory or stocks set up on a wooden platform in the middle of the street. Looks like something from the 1800s. He’s making her put her head and arms across it so he can close it on top of her. Son of a bitch.”

  “What’s happening, Dad?”

  “There’s a crowd around the stocks now. Mostly men, but a couple of women too. They’re cheering while the man is...violating...the girl.”

  Steven handed the binoculars to Tung, wrestling with the urge to vomit.

  Tung peered through the lenses, then spoke in that Midwestern drawl so at odds with his exotic features.

  “Yes. It’s as bad as you suspected.” His mouth was turned down and the almond eyes glistened.

  Jeffrey cocked an eyebrow and said, “Do you have the proof you need?”

  ###

  “I don’t want to wait even on
e more day!” Chuck bellowed in Steven’s living room later that evening. The face of the former grocery store manager, now Liberty’s head of security, was flushed with outrage.

  “We’re going to do this the right way,” Steven replied.

  After what he’d seen, and after hearing similar reports from the other scouts, he wanted to ride into Hays like the Union army at Gettysburg. But that wasn’t rational thinking. People were going to die, and if he orchestrated the assault well enough, the casualties on their side would be few, or dare he hope, zero.

  “You saw what they did to that girl! How can we just sit here and let that happen?”

  “We’re not going to rush into this. We’re going to do it the smart way.”

  “Of course, because we all know how smart you are!”

  It was the second time Chuck had made that remark to him in the same disparaging tone; but unlike before, this time it would not go unanswered.

  “That’s right. I am smart, and I’m not going to apologize for it. We should all be thankful for whatever gifts or talents we possess because we’re going to need them in the days and months to come. More than ever before.”

  He waited to see if the man would respond. When he didn’t, Steven continued.

  “Let’s consider our resources,” he said to the subdued gathering. “We have firearms and several people who are proficient with them. We have plenty of vehicles but need to find more gas. We have a munitions expert,” he indicated Tung, “But we’ll need to find materials for the devices he intends to build, as well as steady-handed volunteers.”

  Nervous laughter.

  “We have Cate, who has offered her medical expertise for any injuries our people might sustain, and also with the victims once we’ve rescued them.” He gestured to the woman who occupied his favorite chair. Her arms were crossed over a shelf-like bosom, as they had been at the town hall meeting. She wore the same amused expression. He’d been surprised when she’d shown up at his door for the strategy session...she didn’t seem like the volunteering type. Even though she was off-putting, he was grateful for her assistance.

  “Most importantly, we have brave, caring people who are willing to put their lives on the line to help others. We are the good guys here. We will prevail.”

  Applause filled the room. When it diminished, Steven nodded to Ed, the skinny man with the exquisite draftsman’s skills. There was a drawing pad on his lap and a sharpened pencil in his hand. Someone had laid out a Kansas road map on the coffee table.

  “Okay, let’s get down to business.”

  Chapter 43

  New Mexico, Texas Panhandle, Oklahoma

  The Blue Hole had yielded more than just a few minutes of entertainment for Jessie. Pablo was again relegated to gas-sucker, since Maddie wasn’t up to doing much of anything other than resting in the back and occasionally snorting at his lame jokes. He’d hit the jackpot at the third derelict car which had been left in the parking lot of the local attraction. In a morbid moment, he’d wondered if perhaps those former occupants of the three empty automobiles were at the bottom of The Blue Hole. He’d kept that thought to himself while Jessie frolicked about the edge of the turquoise water.

  He’d scored twelve gallons of good gasoline from a late model Cadillac. It had fueled their way past the state line of New Mexico and through the flat, unremarkable terrain of the Texas Panhandle. As they approached Oklahoma City from the east, the gauge was edging into the red zone. The deserted interstate was becoming less so with every mile, populated now with a smattering of vehicles...potential fuel sources for the final leg of their journey.

  “Why Norman? What about any of these other rural burgs we’ve driven past?” Amelia asked.

  “I want to be south of Oklahoma City, which is north of Prescott’s latitude. We decided we didn’t want to live any farther north than where we came from, so we’ll start heading south as soon as we can get more gas. If not Norman, maybe Chickasha. Maddie likes to say that word.”

  He glanced at his shorn and bandaged angel in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were closed but she smiled at the funny name.

  “How’s the headache?” he asked.

  Her eyes remained shut. He was about to repeat the question when she finally spoke.

  “It ebbs and flows. Like the sound of cicadas on an Indian Summer day...castanets played by a thousand tiny Spanish dancers.” Her voice had assumed a drowsy cadence.

  Pablo felt a jolt of alarm. “Amelia, is she okay?”

  The older woman frowned then touched the back of her hand to Maddie’s forehead.

  “She’s not feverish. Maddie dear, how are you doing? Does the headache feel like distant thunder or a raging storm?”

  He was too distracted to register the poetic analogy.

  The drowsy cadence again. “It’s not an F5. Big Blue looks like metallic cellulite.” She giggled.

  Pablo parked the Highlander in the middle of I40 and turned to face the back seat. Jessie stroked the kitten in her lap and regarded the surrounding landscape.

  “What does that mean? Are you hallucinating?” he demanded.

  “Pablo, hush. Maddie, what do you see?”

  “My head feels fuzzy. Julia said the pills will make it better though. I wish I could tie fifty-seven knots.”

  “Amelia, do something!”

  The brown eyes narrowed at him, somehow managing to exude affection and disdain at the same time. She lifted an eyebrow, then focused her attention on Maddie again.

  “Why do you want to tie knots, dear? Can you tell us what is going on inside your head? Is there a movie projector in there? What do you see?”

  Maddie gave a weak snort. “I like you, Honey Badger. Why that is, I have no idea. The little man’s eyes bulged. His colors were orange and red. His magic must not have been very strong. It wasn’t hard at all, and it was fun too.”

  Jessie turned in her seat now to gaze at Maddie.

  Pablo didn’t notice the fear in those huge sea-green eyes, but Amelia did.

  “You’re a goddamn leprechaun. Don’t deny it. If these Oklahoma fuckers think they can keep me pinned in their shitty state, they have another think coming.”

  “You said you wanted to live in Oklahoma!”

  “I don’t think these are her thoughts, Pablo. Try to stay calm. I don’t think she’s in any danger. Let her ride this out. Jarring her out of a hallucinogenic or trance state could be harmful.”

  His stomach churned, but he kept quiet.

  “I’ve never raised children. Flying by the seat of my pants here. Some kind of pillory or stocks set up in the street. Son of a bitch!”

  Maddie’s eyes flew open but he knew she wasn’t seeing the interior of the car.

  She moaned, an unwilling captive to some nightmarish vision. Bruno whimpered in the back, igniting a burst of firecracker yips from Curly Sue. Just when Pablo thought he couldn’t bear the clamor a second longer, it stopped.

  Maddie took a deep, quivering breath and said, “We are the good guys here. Let’s get down to business.”

  The moment the last word was out, her eyes squeezed shut and her head lolled against the window, the same ragdoll posture from when she’d been shot.

  Amelia placed a fingertip at her throat, then pressed an ear against her chest. She smiled.

  “She’s fine, Pablo. I promise. At least physically.”

  “What do you mean, at least physically? What is going on? What the hell was all that gibberish?”

  Jessie’s enormous eyes followed every movement of the older woman’s face when she spoke again.

  “I think our Maddie came away from that injury with more than a headache and a bad haircut.”

  ###

  “You’re saying she has psychic powers now?” Pablo didn’t bother hiding his skepticism. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

  Maddie remained in a deep sleep, nestled in the bed of a downstairs room at the Cambria Inn in Yukon, Oklahoma. The small suburb just west of Oklahoma City would
mark the end of their journey eastward and the beginning of the final southern leg.

  “Psychic powers? That’s a cheesy term for a wordsmith such as yourself.” Amelia’s chastisement carried a delicate sting.

  They sat in motel chairs on the sidewalk outside Maddie’s room. Jessie played with the animals in the parking lot, uninterested in the conversation of the grownups. The kerosene lantern cast a warm glow, keeping the night shadows corralled at its perimeter.

  “But some form of telepathy, certainly,” she continued. “I can’t say what newfound abilities she has, but she seemed to be receiving the thoughts of others. I think at one point she was witnessing a horrific event. Is she a clairvoyant? Lucid projector? Remote viewer? There are many terms for these people, and please wipe that patronizing smirk off your face, young man.”

  This time the sting wasn’t so delicate.

  “How do you know she wasn’t just dreaming?”

  The old soul eyes bored into him. The gentle Amelia mask went askew for a moment, then returned before he was sure he’d witnessed its absence.

  “Do you think she was merely dreaming?”

  He shrugged. “She’s had a head injury. Who knows what damage that bullet did? I think jumping to the conclusion that she’s suddenly Edgar Cayce is a bit premature.”

  She sighed. “You have a point. Further speculation now would serve no purpose. We’ll simply wait for her to wake up and ask her.”

  “Please don’t be angry. I’ve just never bought into all that stuff.” He watched the little girl chase Bruno in the dark parking lot.

  She followed his gaze, then said with an enigmatic smile, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

  “Shakespeare. Very nice,” he said.

  “Very nice, indeed.” The voice came from the darkness beyond the lantern’s reach.