The Ungovernable

by Franklin Horton

  While the others were processing his suggestion to leave the horses inside the house, Jim walked his mount across the front porch and through the front door.

  "This feels weird, leading a horse into a house," Randi muttered. “Where does he come up with that shit?”

  "I guess it just depends on how you grew up," Lloyd said.

  "You didn’t grow up with a horse in the house," Jim said, overhearing the comment. "Your mother never would've allowed that."

  "Yeah, but I had a big dog,” Lloyd said defensively. “It’s practically the same thing.”

  "And you’re practically the same as an idiot," Randi quipped.

  They got the horses settled in the large living room and shut them in by closing the simple oak paneled doors.

  All of the gear they’d removed from their horses was piled in the dusty entry foyer on its hay-strewn floor. By the light of their headlamps they strapped on their heavy gear. They had the body armor that had come from the sheriff's department, heavy plate carriers covered with an assortment of pouches. They’d added more pouches of their own and jammed every one with spare magazines until the plate carriers were difficult to lift and brutal to wear. No one knew what the day would bring, and running out of ammo could make a bad day even worse.

  They also had their Go Bags since they didn't know if they might have to spend the night in town or not. The day could go in any direction. Every member of Jim’s escort team carried multiple weapons and several backups. Jim wouldn’t be carrying a Go Bag but he did wear a plate carrier. Knowing he was public enemy number one, it was reasonable that he might wear one to keep from getting shot.

  He carried a weapon for now but he would have to turn it over to one of the others when they made their final walk through town. His hands would be cuffed and he was supposed to look like he was a prisoner. Because he didn't need to carry a Go Bag, Jim carried a pack with extra party favors for the day. He had loaded magazines for his team which would be stashed with the horses. Regardless of what happened in town, the abandoned house would be the rally point they would all return to. If things went sideways and they burned up all their ammo, they could collect more when they retrieved their horses.

  Just because Jim would be cuffed and not carrying a rifle did not mean he was going into the situation unarmed. He had no idea what the day might hold for him. Ideally, he would put on a good show, board a chopper, and be dropped off close to home, but things tended to go the other way where he was concerned.

  If the worst happened, he had his faithful Ruger LCP that he’d allowed Randi to carry on the way home from Richmond. It was stashed in an ankle holster. He carried three different knives in several places on his body and had a North American Arms .22 caliber mini revolver shoved in his pocket. He would feel vulnerable, practically naked, walking through town in such a state, but what choice did he have? Right now there was only Scott's plan.

  All he had to do was remind himself Kayla had been snatched because of him and things couldn’t continue as they were. She could have been killed. It could have been Ariel and she could have been killed. Fred Wimmer was an ignorant piece of trash and Jim was glad he was dead, but he was going to have to face Mrs. Wimmer at some point. He would have to tell her what happened. He would tell her what her son had done and how he paid for it.

  Everyone was geared up and ready to hit the road. They were too nervous, too amped up, to just stand around. The next stage of the operation was to get as far into town as they could before the sun came up. Jim had several potential hiding spots planned out. They would just have to see which presented the best opportunity and wasn’t occupied by squatters.

  As with many rural towns in the middle of farming country, the terrain was simply pasture until it wasn’t anymore. One minute it was cows, the next it was backyards, trampolines, and rows of small houses. For Jim’s team, the type of threat they were facing changed with the terrain. The open country of pastures and the valley required a certain type of vigilance. Neighborhoods and towns required another. The concentration of people, coupled with their general state of unpreparedness, made for bad juju. They’d crossed the line where desperation went up a notch.

  They entered a gate and landed on the paved road of an average American neighborhood. This particular one was composed of around thirty small ranch houses with a few Victorians scattered in closer to Main Street. The road was paved but they stayed to the shoulder to avoid scuffing gravel that might catch the attention of someone huddled in one of the dark homes. Jim kept the lead. It was his town and he was familiar with the overall layout, the shortcuts, and the narrow back streets.

  They reached the hospital and gave it a wide berth, assuming the dark, hulking building was probably occupied. They passed the church Jim’s parents had attended and in the distance the Confederate statue marked the crossroads of Main Street. They continued down a back alley behind the town's oldest street and were soon behind a tall row of nineteenth-century brick buildings. One was the town's old movie theater.

  Jim gestured toward it. “That’s where I saw Apocalypse Now and Roller Boogie. The last time we came through town I stuck my head in there and it was empty. The bottom is wrecked but the top might give us a good view of Main Street."

  "I’d like to catch some sleep," Lloyd said, fighting back a yawn.

  Randi looked incredulous. "You could sleep? Now?"

  "I could try," Lloyd replied. “In fact, the more you talk, the sleepier I get.”

  Randi shot him a warning glare.

  "That’s not a bad idea," Hugh said. “One of you could take watch and the rest try to get some rest. This may be your last opportunity for a long time."

  "I notice you didn't include yourself in that," Jim said.

  "I have those charges to plant. This is the optimal time to do it. Most of the town is asleep."

  “Help us clear the building first,” Jim said. “You’re good at this shit.”

  The back door to the theater, the emergency exit, stood open, barely visible in the pre-dawn gray. Hugh took the lead. Once inside the back door, each clicked on their light. They found a vast trash pile in the auditorium of what had once been the Russell Theater. It had undergone several renovations and several grand openings but none had ever taken hold. Bigger towns offered better movies and it became difficult to compete.

  Someone had spray-painted a crude pornographic cartoon on the dingy screen. Elaborate cast-iron sconces hung crooked, their globes shattered. The seats had been torn from the floor and rearranged. Much of the wooden flooring was gone, likely to fuel heating fires over the long cold winter. The room had once featured a wide center seating area with an aisle to either side. Now there were no aisles, just meandering routes between the piles of trash and wreckage.

  Everyone had guns raised and lights playing methodically over every inch of the room. Hugh caught Jim’s attention, gestured to the projection booth, and made his way up there to check it. In the lobby they found the doors to the street wide open. Jim carefully closed them and shoved a mop through the handles to keep them shut.

  Gary and Randi checked the balcony and found it empty, though there was plenty of indication that people had been there at some point. Stained mattresses, discarded rags, and old cans opened with a knife told the story.

  The last place they needed to check was the point that interested them most. They entered a small door off the lobby that led to an upstairs apartment. Jim knew of its existence but wasn’t sure if it was intended as an apartment for a theatre employee in the old days or if it was an attic storeroom that had been converted to an apartment. It had a low ceiling, perhaps six and a half feet, and faced out onto the street through old windows with heavily painted trim. One of them was broken out and a trail of blood revealed that the building had taken vengeance on the vandal.

  A thorough search of the apartment revealed it to be empty. It had been looted and all of the furniture broken but it was generally in better shape than the theater downstair
s. Maybe people hadn’t noticed it, or perhaps there had been an occupant until recently.

  Jim strode to the windows, the stained oak floors creaking underfoot. He looked out the window onto the street and found they had a good vantage point of Main Street. It was exactly what they’d hoped for.

  Lloyd leaned back against the wall and let his feet slowly slide out from under him until he was sitting on the ground. “I’m beat.”

  “I’m tired too,” Randi said, tugging at her armor, trying to let some heat escape. The hike into town had been strenuous.

  “You guys get some rest if you want,” Jim said. “There’s no way I’m sleeping. I’m going to find a chair, plant it in front of this window, and keep an eye on this town.”

  “If you’re good with it, I may stretch out and rest,” Gary said.

  “Go for it,” said Jim.

  “I’m going to plant some good cheer around town,” Hugh said. “When I get back, I’ll knock on the door. I’d prefer that you check to see if it’s me before you start shooting.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” Jim said.

  It took Hugh nearly two hours to return. When he did, his light tap on the apartment door jolted everyone to awareness. Those who had dozed off scrambled for weapons. Jim, who'd been watching the street the entire time, reminded them that it was probably just Hugh.

  While the rest of his crew came to life, Jim descended the stairs and asked who it was.

  "It's the plumber, I’ve come to fix the sink," Hugh deadpanned.

  Jim unlocked the door, let Hugh in, and locked it behind him. “You really need to work on your jokes, Hugh. You’d think hanging with Randi and Lloyd would be rubbing off on you but it hasn’t. Your material is dated.”

  “I’ll move that to the top of my list. Should I put it above saving your ass or just below?”

  “Point made,” Jim replied. "Did you deliver your goodies?”

  "I placed a few distractions in case we need them."

  "You see anything interesting out there?"

  Hugh shook his head. “There are pockets of people coming to life. I could smell meat cooking and saw a few fires. I was afraid to see what was roasting on the spit."

  Jim understood that. He'd seen several unappetizing things grilled in the past year. Upstairs, he retook his seat in front of the window. Lloyd was sipping from the canteen and chewing on a cold biscuit while Randi hand-rolled a cigarette.

  “Hey, you got Prince Albert in a can?” Lloyd asked her.

  “No,” Randi said, looking at him like he was an idiot. “Hugh found this in a barn.”

  Lloyd cracked a grin. “If you did, I was going to say you better let him out. He might suffocate.”

  Hugh shook his head at Jim. “What was that you said about my material sucking?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. He has his moments. This ain’t one of them.”

  Hugh had found a barn over the winter hung full of curing tobacco. He and Randi now had jars of the stuff and could smoke with abandon, using rolling papers and even toilet paper to roll their own.

  Hugh pulled the radio Scott had given him from his pack and turned it on. He’d said it was unlikely Hugh would receive any transmission from the chopper until it was right on top of town. According to their plan, from the time they made contact, Jim’s group would have exactly ten minutes to get in place at the football field.

  The whole operation was delicately balanced. There needed to be plenty of witnesses in order for word to spread that Jim Powell was gone from their community. Also, the whole operation needed to take place before the true issuer of the bounty arrived. They decided that noon was the optimal time. That was several hours off and they would have to wait. It was something none of them were good at.

  36

  Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling (JBAB)

  True to his word, Boss was able to arrange orders for Gordon’s crew to fly to southwest Virginia on the 4th of July. Their destination, at least on paper, was delivery of supplies to a remote team working to bring up a hydroelectric facility in the New River Valley area of Virginia. In reality, they were to deliver Boss, a pallet of freeze-dried food, and some ammo cans to a high school football field somewhere in the vicinity of the power plant where they’d found Boss.

  Boss met them at mid-morning and supervised loading of the food and ammo.

  The crew was doing pre-flight checks and going over their gear. They were surprised when Boss brought in a team to install an M240D for a door gunner.

  “We haven’t run operations with a door gunner on American soil,” Gordon protested.

  Boss led him away from where the gun was being installed and the ammo loaded. “I’m concerned about folks rushing us when we land. Word will have spread that we’re bringing food. The sound of your chopper is going to be like a dinner bell. There could be a riot. I don’t want them overrunning us.”

  Gordon gave a concerned nod.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Boss said. “I won’t tell you how to fly your chopper, you don’t tell me how to run my op.”

  When the gun was mounted, everyone climbed aboard and slipped on their headsets.

  “Got coordinates for me?” Davis asked.

  “Not exactly,” Boss replied. “I have a list of high school football fields in the area. We’ll fly over each one and watch for signal fires. That’s what my flyer told them to do.”

  Davis and Stanley exchanged a glance, wondering what they’d agreed to.

  When the door was shut, Boss removed a pouch of Krugerrands from his pocket and handed two over to each member of the crew. “I know you men have concerns. I hope this helps alleviate some of them. Just do as I say and you’ll be fine.”

  “So where to first?” Stanley asked.

  “We’ll start at the most distant school and work our way back. We’re going to hit Wise County first, then Dickenson County. West to East.”

  “Got it,” Stanley said.

  In seconds, they were airborne and departing the JBAB. Boss knew he was going to have some explaining to do when he got back to the base. Owen would be pissed but it would be worth it. Although this might well be his final mission, he could live with that. When he got back, if Owen didn’t lock him up, he’d run his missions, plan his ops, and do what he was told. For now, this was what he had to do, consequences be damned.

  37

  "Big Bird for Oscar. Big Bird for Oscar. Do you read me? Over."

  Hugh shot a glance at Jim then grabbed for the radio. Scott’s chopper was here. "Big Bird, this is Oscar. We got you."

  "Oscar, lot of traffic on the roads today. We’re seeing people walking toward town in big groups. Over.”

  "Big Bird, that's confirmed. We’re seeing the same thing."

  Jim’s team had already noticed more people out on the streets than they’d seen since the onset of this disaster. In a world where there'd been no public events, no football, no county fair, no block parties, and no television for a year, people were desperate. Jim expected that some of them were people with a true sense of outrage at what he had done. They came in hopes they’d see him strung from the goalpost. Others were probably just there for the spectacle. Either way, it was turning into a circus.

  "Oscar, if you can confirm you’re in position, we will begin flyover and jettison our cargo. Over."

  "That's affirmative, Big Bird. We’re in position and ready to go. We shouldn’t have any trouble reaching the target on schedule."

  "Then ten minutes starts now. Three, two, one, mark. Over."

  Hugh pushed a button on his watch, activating a ten minute timer. He got to his feet. "Showtime, kids. Let’s do this."

  Everyone got to their feet and tugged on the gear they'd removed. They stretched muscles sore from the hike in and took final drinks from their water bottles. They checked their weapons and made sure spare mags were ready to go. Jim reluctantly handed his rifle over to Hugh and then turned his back, extending his hands behind him.

  This was
the part he’d been dreading but they had to make it look good. It had to be convincing to sell it to the locals. He needed to appear to be a prisoner pulled into town against his will. The body armor they’d acquired from the sheriff's department had come with several sets of flex cuffs and they brought some with them. Hugh strapped them closed while Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had a touch of claustrophobia and this was going to be a challenge. For as much as he hated going out into town with no weapon, going out cuffed was a serious blow. It was the most vulnerable he recalled feeling in his entire life.

  Before they left, Hugh went to the old fireplace with its oak mantle and tile surround. He rubbed his hand inside the flue until he’d covered his fingers in soot. He rubbed some on Jim’s face and did his best to make it look like bruising. As a final touch, he removed a ketchup pack from his pocket and dabbed the thick red sauce in a stream from his hairline to beard.

  “Those are kindergarten level special-effects,” Lloyd said. “You think they’ll fool anyone?”

  “They will if we keep them at a distance,” Hugh replied. “If someone is close enough to tell it’s fake we’re not doing our job.”

  “Yeah, keep them away from me,” Jim reminded everyone.

  “We got you,” Randi said.

  When he was done, Hugh glanced at his watch. "Nine minutes.”

  While seeing Jim cuffed reminded everyone of the seriousness of this, Hugh’s reminder of the ticking clock pushed them into action. Everyone clambered down the steps and piled up at the front entrance. Hugh yanked the broom out of the door handles, glanced out the narrow window, raised a garage door opener, and pushed the first of a row of buttons.

  BOOM!

  There was a loud explosion to the east.

  "What was that?" Jim asked. “Don’t tell me it was something historical.”

  "Tacky brick building,” Hugh said. “Nothing important."