Behind The Curve-The Farm | Book 1 | The Farm

by Craven III, Boyd

  Anna laughed as she turned off the reloading press. “I can’t even picture what that would look like. How’s Harry doing?” she asked.

  “Taking it easy, like you should be. Bump on the head, duh!” Angelica said.

  “Oh shit, I can’t drink then,” Anna said. “I forgot.”

  “This is medicinal. Not enough here to really worry about it, besides, if your concussion were bad, the docs would have told you.”

  “Or they assumed that I knew better,” Anna said, taking the bottle back and taking a swig.

  “Good thing you don’t,” Angelica took it back from her and downed a slug.

  “You want me to go up with you to sit with Harry?” Anna asked.

  Angelica hesitated. “Yes, and no. The trip down the slide banged Harry up, but he really didn’t get freaked out. If I went up and hovered over him, he would see me freaking out and that would freak him out and then all of us would be freaking out. Oh my God, I’m freaking out.”

  Anna nudged Angelica’s hand that was holding the bottle. Angelica took another swig and handed it over.

  “We’re going to be ok,” she told her.

  “I know. By the way, your husband is washing the dogs in the equipment barn,” Angel informed her. “You’re supposed to take it easy.”

  “Good thing there isn’t a ton of this stuff,” Anna said, looking at the pint that was half finished.

  “Why?” Angelica asked.

  Anna upended the bottle and finished half of what was left, coughing, and then handing the bottle back to Angel, wiping her mouth with one hand.

  “Because we’d get really fucked up,” she said, a smile now cracking her facial features.

  “True that,” Angel said, upending the bottle and downing the last of the pint.

  Twenty-Eight

  Reporters were lined up along the fence, news trucks with their long antennas poking up above and beyond the brush pile. Most of the police were outside the fence with the group with the exception of Sherry Parker. Officer Parker was inside with them, to coordinate any action the police might have outside once the protestors heard what was happening. The group had not been charged at this point but talking heads from most mainstream media news sources were calling for the arrest of Anna.

  Andrea sat in the recliner in the living room of the main house as they all watched from the couch, chairs dragged from the dining room table. Some of the ladies were sitting in their husband’s laps. Angel was sitting on the floor between Rob’s legs, Harry sitting in front of her, leaning back. They had practiced for this moment and many of them were ready in case the news came down the way they had thought it would.

  Over a month had passed since the shootout and having daily protests in front of the farm was becoming tiresome. The police had maintained a presence, with help from the sheriff’s department and state police. They worried that a protestor would try to take a pot shot at the group, and the group would mow down everyone. That was the police’s real fear, and hardly any of them would blame the group if that was how it actually went down. They too were tired of the crowd, the chants of Black Lives Matter, being called racist pigs, of people screeching how they were protecting white supremacists at the farm.

  The police thought the last one was a head scratcher. The tall doctor in the group was bi-racial, and one of the ladies definitely was Hispanic or had strong genes of something similar in her background. None of it made sense to the officers, but they had to protect those inside, something they could do willingly, without complaint.

  The protestors had been wearing them out, day after day, standing in the same spot, at the same two gates, at the same electrified fences. Day after day one or more members of the group would drive around inside the fence on a side by side, flipping off the protestors and running coffee and Grandma Goldie’s fritters to the police, whenever they could safely do it. The reason the protestors did not completely lose interest and die away was because it was a presidential election year, and the VP for the democratic party had once been a prosecutor. She had called out the cases of Andrea and Anna specifically, linking them to what she called a “vast conspiracy of right-wing vigilantism.”

  Some of the protestors had caught some kind of bug. They would cough, run a fever for a couple of days and if they did not get significantly worse, they would stay out as long as the guy sending them payments anonymously on Venmo kept sending them. Many did not have real jobs, and many did not want them. They would do this kind of thing for free if they did not have to drive so far. Gas was so expensive with the lockdowns.

  “I’m getting sick of this shit,” a protestor named Airic said to another.

  “I am too. Those racist, fascist pigs need to come out sooner or later,” a woman agreed. “They need to pay for what they did to us!”

  “Oh, they’ll pay,” a man in black block dress said, from the middle of a group of folks dressed similarly, “when they announce formal CHARGES TODAY!” He screamed the last few words, making the crowd of fawning protestors start to clap and cheer.

  “Here it comes,” Harry said as the channel they were watching broke for the live announcement.

  “Today I come before you,” the state’s AG said, “with a heavy soul. It’s not an easy task to make sure justice is always meted out fairly, but I believe in all honesty that the grand jury made the right call in the case folks are calling ‘the riot against the farm’. The loss of life there was not only preventable, but it was also despicable.”

  “Oh shit,” Anna said quietly.

  “Shhhhh,” Steven told her, rubbing her shoulders.

  “That is why I have been in contact with the governor before this announcement, to ensure he is prepared. As you all know, the National Guard has been called up as of midnight of last night. No more violent protests will be tolerated. No more looting, burning federal buildings, no more shooting at somebody and expecting them not to shoot back at you. Civilian or police.

  “If you come to a man’s house to bring him death, then death may be waiting to take you himself. Those were the words of our Governor, and it is a reminder to all that this is a state where there are no penalties when a family is defending their castle. That is why we call this the castle doctrine, or the stand your ground laws.”

  “As you can probably tell from my rambling, Miss Anna Castiglione, nor any others in her group, is going to be charged in the shooting of the rioters who tried attacking her. The time for violent rioting and looting is done. As of tonight, at 8pm, there will be a statewide curfew in place. All police are going to be directed to heavily enforce this, with the help of the many thousands of National Guard troops that are now reinforcing our cities.

  “Thank you, and God bless America.”

  “That was a fucking joke,” one of the ANTIFA black-pajama-clad men screamed from behind his mask.

  “Time to light this shit up,” another yelled.

  A U-Haul rental van had been driven to the site. The cops had been curious, but when four people had got out of it, they figured they were transporting people. Two of the four who had ridden in had changed into their black block clothing as soon as they’d gotten out, and when the AG’s statement of no charges came over the radio, those two opened the back doors of the van.

  Makeshift shields and milk crates of glass bottles with rags on the top were handed out. The police saw the Molotov cocktails being unloaded at the same moment the throng of people rushed to the fence, screaming, and swearing.

  “You sure about this?” Rob asked Anna, Angel and Steven.

  “Nobody is going to burn us out. This is our home. This is where our family lives,” Steven said, pumping a load of birdshot into his Mossberg.

  “They were so focused on the van that nobody saw us walking up, did they?” Anna asked.

  “It’s getting dark and we’re all in black,” Angelica said. “Besides, the cameras we have will see us fine. The new DVR works great.”

  “It’s a sad, sad day when we have to prepar
e in advance to stop people from doing stupid shit like this,” Rob said, his voice trembling in anger.

  “Don’t worry Hun.” Angelica made sure her own shotgun was chambered and safe. “Everyone is doing what we planned. We have the extra irrigation pumps rigged, and hoses set to put out a fire anywhere near them.”

  “Shhhhh, we’re too close now. Our voices are going to carry.”

  Sherry was walking with the group headed out with shotguns, to try to talk some sense into them, but they had assured her that they in no way meant to shoot anybody. She had threatened to arrest them all, shoot them, nobody cared. They had a right to protect themselves, and they were not the ones picking the fight. They did not even have to retreat.

  She was about ten steps behind Rob, Anna, Steven, and Angelica. They were dressed in all black, with black vests. Anna had on long sleeves, hiding her ink. If this made the news, and folks were sure it would, she did not want to become a bigger target.

  “Where is my backup?” she hissed.

  “Time to light this shit up,” one of the Antifa crowd screamed, then there was a rush to the front gate where the mass of people had piled up, screaming obscenities at the farm.

  Sherry was glad she was on this side of the fence for now. Just the weight of the crush of bodies pushing on the first gate had the fixed and reinforced section nearly falling over.

  “Watch for it,” Anna said, bringing her shotgun to her shoulder, and turning the safety off. The gun pointed toward the ground, while her eyes searched for targets.

  “Pull,” Rob said as half a dozen Molotov cocktails came flying over the fence.

  Three shotguns went off at once as the bottles began their arc and continued firing at the moving targets from 25 yards away. The flames ignited the liquid from the burst bottles, sending a flaming shower onto the protestors below. The group got busy reloading, watching, waiting.

  “Pull,” Rob said again, for comedic effect, as another volley was thrown from a different side. Again, the shotguns boomed.

  “We missed one,” Anna said, seeing it hit the ground they had scraped clear a month ago.

  “Small fire on the right side of the driveway. Doesn’t seem to be catching,” Anna said into her throat microphone.

  “Stop,” Sherry screamed, getting her voice back after her initial shock.

  Dozens of people were now on fire on the other side of the fence. Their screams were horrible, sending jolts of pain into the officer’s ears.

  “I’m not letting somebody throw a firebomb at my face,” Rob told her coldly, pushing more rounds into his gun. “Besides, I think the rest of your boys have the group throwing fire on the ground now.”

  “Yes, next to the assholes who never learned to stop, drop and roll,” Angelica said. “I want to monkey stomp their bitch asses, so next time I hear somebody yell ‘let’s light this shit up’, you better be ready for some good, country ass-kicking.”

  Sherry looked at the tiny woman, shaking her head. She had become friends with the two, putting her in a difficult position with the state police, but she was one that was requested, and they knew she had the group's trust. She would not let her own thoughts and feelings cloud her judgement. She would follow the law, regardless of who broke it.

  “Pull,” Anna said as three more bottles came from the center of the mass of bodies.

  Three shotguns went off at once, spraying liquid fire on the people throwing it, and on those who were trying to rush the fence.

  “Let’s put out the fires,” Steven shouted.

  A large agricultural sprinkler started up, the pump had been running for an hour already, refilling a cistern. When there was a need for water at the front of the property, a valve was opened, and the irrigation system started spraying 100’ swaths.

  “Let’s see them get another fire going there,” Steven said, blowing water out of his mouth as he fed more shells into his shotgun.

  “You weren’t going to let them burn?” Sherry asked, not knowing how she felt about any of this.

  “They should be lucky we didn’t decide to fill the hose from the cow barn’s liquids tank,” Rob said quietly. “I got out-voted.”

  “Because that shit’s nasty,” Angelica said.

  “Then you really would have been in trouble,” Officer Parker said. “But why didn’t you turn on the sprinklers ahead of time? A lot of people just got hurt over there.”

  “Not my problem.” Angelica shrugged. “Besides, if we turned the hose on these fools protesting outside our fence before they attacked, then we would be guilty of assault, right?”

  Sherry groaned. Their logic made sense, but from this side of the fence, she realized her job was going to be 10,000 times easier than for the officers on the other side of the fence who had to deal with the hurt, wounded and possibly dead.

  “I have to go,” Officer Parker said, “see where I’m needed. Are you guys going to treat people at your medical center again?”

  “The docs said no, not unless it’s a life and death case. We were never reimbursed for the massive amount of supplies we used last time,” Rob told her, repeating the words Dante was saying, having heard the conversation from Anna’s phone that was on speaker to Dante.

  “All good out there?” Andrea asked.

  “No damage or injuries on our side to report,” Steven said through his throat mic.

  “Are the police requesting medical treatment?” Leah asked through the radio.

  “Not at this time,” Rob said walking towards the gate, his gun reloaded and now on safe.

  The smell of burnt flesh was almost overpowered by the smell of gasoline. The fools had been throwing Molotov cocktails, Rob thought to himself.

  “They used gasoline,” Rob said into the mic. “Does that change things?”

  “No,” Leah said.

  “Officer Parker here, let me through,” Sherry was screaming at the gate.

  “Want to stick around and help them?” Anna asked Steven.

  “Hell no, unless some of the cops got burnt,” Steven shot back.

  “We’ve got a couple with burns,” a trooper said, “but none serious enough to need medical attention. The cowards threw from behind the biggest groups of people. They were using them as human shields.”

  “Then I expect you’re charging a ton of people with attempted murder, arson, whatever, right?” Angelica called to them.

  “You better believe it,” another officer shouted, a bloody welt on the side of his cheek.

  “You ok, officer?” Anna asked.

  “Caught a shard of glass when I headbutted a suspect. He would not quit running and I had to put him out… I’ll be ok.”

  The group went back inside, knowing Sherry would call when the police needed to speak to them. They were already backing up what the video cameras had recorded and were burning DVDs. LeBaron and Lucian both were on the phone almost immediately when it hit the news cycles, and both were emailed a copy of the camera footage about the same time the police requested their DVR for evidence. Again.

  “Make sure you only give that out to like… every media outlet who wants it,” Andrea said to Lucian... “Yes, no… We are giving them the DVR. No, the governor made it clear… yup, uh huh. Oh yeah, we had about ten police witnesses, with one of them on our side of the fence. Yeah, no she went over to help triage with those burned… liability? I would like to see them try to prove it was our fault that somebody in their crowd was throwing fire. Don’t matter. Once it crossed our property line, we had no duty to retreat. Shit no, I don’t care. Yeah, call me back.”

  “You know I need to take this,” Sherry said pointing at the DVR.

  “We know,” Goldie told her, a spoon in her left hand. “Go ahead, we’ll have another one up in about ten minutes. Now, are the suspects talking?” She smacked one hand with the spoon.

  “Suspects?” Officer Parker asked.

  “You know, the ones who brought the riot gear and firebombs? I’d love to help you question them,” she sa
id smacking the spoon against her hand again.

  “We uh… have that handled—”

  There was a knock at the front door. Only cops were allowed through at this point, so Sherry was confused.

  “I’ll get it,” Harry said running for the door.

  “No, wait—” Angelica tried to stop him, but he was so fast.

  He opened the door and looked up, as did the group.

  The local township officer, Ed Buckley, was standing there, handcuffs in one hand, jangling as he bounced them. “Excuse me, did I come at a bad time?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Andrea said. “We’re not speaking until we talk with our lawyer. Officer Parker has requested the DVR of our camera feeds. Other than that, we’re all set and not answering further questions.”

  “Who fired the shotguns?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “Officer Buckley,” Rob said, “it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does. I’ve got seventy out-of-towners out there getting hauled away for burns. That definitely falls within what matters. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know Ed,” Rob said, getting in front of him. “Why don’t you ask the people who lit the other people on fire, 'cuz they ain’t inside of here.”

  “You better get out of my face boy,” Ed snarled, dropping the cuffs, his hand going to the butt of his pistol.

  “Ed,” Sherry said loudly, “stop it. We’re not charging them.”

  “I don’t work for the state police,” Ed said, though he never took his eyes off of Rob.

  “You better get the fuck out of my house, Officer Buckley.” Rob stood his ground.

  “I’m finding out who shot those Molotov cocktails and I’m arresting them, right here, right now,” Ed replied, his face beet red.