by Hunt, Jack
FOURTEEN
Dan Wilder
Humboldt County
When SWAT raided his home, Alby was gliding back and forth on the porch rocker, sipping 25-year-old scotch, relishing every drop. He’d become so accustomed to living on the other side of the law that he had bought into the lie that he was untouchable. He wasn’t.
None of them were. Dan was in office for this very reason.
Rikers, Stricklands, it didn’t matter. If they continued to operate outside the law, he would be there to remind them their days were numbered.
SWAT swooped in on Alby from every angle, like silent ninjas, rifles at the ready.
He had a shotgun leaning up against the wall, but he didn’t go for it.
There was not even the slightest attempt to defend himself.
He looked amused.
That’s what struck him as odd.
His aging dog Lenny lay beside him, more alert than him.
If he wasn’t mistaken, Dan almost thought Alby was expecting his arrival.
“Sheriff Dan Wilder. Don’t you look like a peach in that uniform. Funny, I was only just thinking about you. Care for a drink?” he said, raising his glass.
Several deputies moved in on him, bringing him down to the floor and handcuffing his wrists behind his back. He lifted his face to meet Dan’s gaze.
“Sloppy, Alby. Very sloppy.”
“Is that what you think?” He chuckled to himself as they lifted him. “Sloppy was killing Bruce. If you think those three boys’ lives are the end, you are very much mistaken. This is just beginning, and it only has one outcome. You should know that better than anyone else.”
“I’m arresting you on the charge of murder.” He began reading him his rights. “Take him away,” he said.
“I need my meds.”
“We’ll get them.”
“You think I can take Lenny with me?”
“I’ll make sure your kin gets him.”
“Alive, Dan. Alive. I’ve heard about you.”
Dan’s cheeks went flush. He was glad it was nighttime and his face wasn’t illuminated. Alby was referring to an incident when he was a youngster, an accident in which he shot his own dog on a hunting trip. The Rikers hadn’t let him live that down since. As he was carted away, Dan went inside the house and took a look around. There was a hand-crank lantern on the counter revealing the extent of Alby’s disgusting living conditions. The sink was jam-packed with dishes, the garbage can overflowing, and there was dog shit on the kitchen floor. “Filthy animal,” he said, referring to Alby.
He took a few minutes searching the property for medical supplies from the grocery store. As he shone the light around, he noticed a bottle of pills on the table. He scooped it up and saw there was no prescription on the outside. It was diabetes medicine, the kind that would have been prescribed. He squeezed it tightly. Dan shook his head on the way out, astonished at how such a man could live in these conditions. He glanced at the garage, and two of his guys exited it and said they couldn’t find anything. He saw the vehicle in the back with flat tires nestled among tall weeds. The yard was as much a mess as his home was.
Dan looked toward the mountain, far up into the hills.
Were the Rikers watching?
“Sheriff, what do you want to do with him?” Johnson asked.
He glanced over his shoulder.
“Take him back to Eureka, book him into the jail. He’ll have his day in court.”
Court. Now that would be interesting. Almost two weeks into the event and they were already feeling the unrest stirring among the people. Unlike large cities, they were fortunate enough to have a strong community that wanted to help. People that hadn’t run from the disaster but had risen to the challenge. Although he’d witnessed angry outbursts, those demanding supplies, and resources, he’d had far more people come forward offering to help. It gave him hope at a time when hope was fading.
“And what about the Stricklands?”
“We’ll deal with them when they show up.”
He knew eventually Hank would get wind of Alby’s arrest if he hadn’t already. He expected him to show up at his office and throw his weight around. No doubt, he would demand that Alby be released to his custody so they could deliver their own form of justice but that wasn’t happening. No, this wasn’t the Wild West and it would take more than two weeks before he’d let any mob muscle their way in and take over.
“Thanks, guys. Great job!” he said, encouraging them. He reached over and took a leash hanging on a nail, and attached it to the dog. “Come on, Lenny.” The dog whined and followed him as he led him over to an ATV parked out front with a trailer hooked up to the back. Dan noticed several neighbors were outside their homes, watching the arrest unfold. “Go on inside. Nothing to see here.”
Rumors spread like wildfire.
By the time he made it back to Eureka, Hank was already there. All of his family was there, waiting outside the county courthouse like a lynch mob. Fortunately, Johnson had already slipped Alby in the back.
As Dan brought the ATV to a crawl outside, along with a dozen officers, Hank immediately approached.
“Where is he, Dan?”
“Being booked,” he replied, ignoring him as he got off the ATV and grabbed the leash, and took the dog out of the back of the trailer.
“Yeah? And what plans do you have for him?”
“The same plans that I have for everyone accused of murder.”
“Accused? You know it was him. Why don’t you just save yourself some time and effort and hand him over?” He glanced at the rest of his family carrying rifles. Calmly, Dan addressed them all.
“Go home. Let us handle this.”
“Bullshit! You’ll stick him in that jail and feed him three times a day. He deserves to be executed. That man killed three of my sons.”
“And justice will be done but like I told you, Hank. There are ways we go about this, and this is not one. So go home.”
“Screw that. Let’s go, boys!”
They pressed forward and were immediately met by opposition from the deputies. Seth threw a punch and knocked one down before being thrown to the ground and placed in cuffs. Dan grabbed his rifle from the ATV and fired a round in the air.
Everyone stopped and looked his way.
“Listen up. This is not the Wild West. I will not have you step over the line. Now back up. Every one of you, or you’ll all be thrown inside.”
Seth spit at him as he was hauled off to be processed. “And you say you’re one of us. Piece of shit!” Seth bellowed.
“I’m warning you, Hank. Back off. Now!”
“Point a gun at me, would you, cousin?”
“You’re giving me no choice. Now you have my word I will ensure he is charged to the full extent of the law but until then, you will stand down or join your son.”
There were a few seconds of taught tension then Hank told his family to back up.
“Whatever leniency you had with us is gone,” Hank said, spitting near his boot before getting on an ATV and tearing out of there.
Dan remained defiant until they were gone.
Johnson appeared at his side. “Alby’s in. I heard about the Stricklands. Tried to get here as fast as I could.”
“I think we’re going to have our hands full,” Dan replied.
He nodded and gestured that they go inside.
The team he was working with now had fallen into a rhythm. Each one knew what was required of them, where they had to be and the challenges before them. He’d already held a town hall meeting and rallied together assistance from locals to avoid exhaustion. Deputies now worked an eight-hour shift with two extra hours given to overtime if and when needed. Cathy had been a complete godsend making sure that tasks assigned were completed on time. A pastor from Eureka had stepped forward with over two hundred people to assist with the distribution of supplies as and when needed, while a few who were skilled in hunting had offered to handle the collection of deer m
eat from a nearby forest.
With two incident command posts set up in Eureka and one in Garberville, they’d managed to stay on top of the needs of the community as well as handle any criminal related incidents. How long it would last was anyone’s guess, but rumors had already reached them that the National Guard was working with towns further afield.
When they would reach this area was unknown.
Cathy, who’d been waiting for his return, fell in step, her arms full of paperwork.
“Pastor Hale wanted me to let you know they are running low on bottled water, they also need more medicine for the elderly and the nursing homes.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, you have two visitors.”
His brow furrowed. “Please tell me it’s not a Strickland or a Riker.”
“No. They didn’t give their names but said they knew you.”
“All right, Cathy, I appreciate it. Why don’t you go home? Take tomorrow off.”
“Oh, I can’t do that. I have too much to do.”
He stopped and took her by her arms. “Go home. We’ll be fine. And thank you.”
She smiled and wandered down the corridor. Cathy would have worked until she dropped. He appreciated it, but it could lead to resentment and he couldn’t have that.
“Right. Let’s see who this is.” Johnson came with him. Along the way, they discussed forming a group that could search the highways for any delivery trucks that might contain supplies. As he opened the door to his office, he observed a bald man seated in front of his desk, and another guy with fair hair browsing the whiteboard with his hands clasped behind his back. Both were wearing green military fatigues.
“Sheriff Wilder. I hope you don’t mind us waiting here.”
“Of course not.”
“I’ve heard a lot of good things about you,” the fair-haired man said, turning away from the whiteboard. “My name is Captain Benjamin Evans.” Then he gestured with a wave to his companion. “This is Lieutenant Elijah Hale.”
Dan noticed a patch on his shoulder – California State Militia. Country, Family, God. The emblem in the middle was a bear and a soldier.
“Here to protest?” Dan asked.
“No sir, we do not protest as an organization. We’re not a hate group, nor are we militant or anti-government. We uphold the principles of the elected, and we defend the rights and protections of citizens defined by our founding fathers in the U.S. Constitution and Bill of Rights. We are all private citizens. Volunteers.”
“Right. Pleased to meet you.” He skirted around his desk while Johnson stood at the back of the room, observing them. “How can I be of assistance?”
“Well, that’s what we’re here to ask you. We’re aware that we are all dealing with a huge event, and so our militia group is offering assistance to local communities.”
Dan observed them. He’d seen all manner of militia groups throughout the United States. Many of them were good people just wanting to uphold the laws, help communities, suppress insurrections, and repel invasions, but there were always a few bad apples among the bunch. He wasn’t too familiar with this California Militia.
“Well, I appreciate the offer. But we seem to have things under control.”
Evans chuckled. “That’s good to hear. Many of the communities from Southern California through to Eureka aren’t faring as well. Many have yet to receive help from the National Guard, FEMA, or the Red Cross. How are you managing to keep people under control?”
“The same way we did before. By doing our job.”
Evans smiled. “That’s admirable. I saw all the people you had out there helping. Must feel good to see the community coming together.”
“It is. We’ll get through this.”
“And food and medical supplies?”
“We have them.”
“Dwindling?” he asked.
Dan’s eyed bounced to his quiet friend, Elijah.
“Forgive me for being blunt, captain, but what are you offering?”
He sucked air between his teeth. “We have a large group and would be willing to have some of our men come and help. You have a large county to cover. I’m sure it must be hard to maintain law and order. We could assist with some of the smaller communities. Act as a deterrent. Deal with home invasions. Boots on the ground, sheriff. I’m sure you have your hands full with the jail to maintain and the city.”
“We’re doing fine.”
His friend Elijah must have found that funny as he chuckled.
“I’m sorry. Something amusing?” Dan asked.
“Well, it’s just you say you’re doing fine, and yet the last I heard, you had three bodies hanging from a bridge, two dead in the hills, and that’s within the first eleven days.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Word spreads fast, sheriff. There’s little that gets by us,” Elijah replied.
Evans chimed in. “What the lieutenant here is saying is that we are just here to help. We recognize you are facing an uphill battle. We can make that a little easier. If you have law and order under control, kudos to you. However, I’m sure you lack skilled individuals who are willing to go out and search the highways and other towns for food and supplies, am I right?”
Dan glanced at Johnson, and he nodded ever so slightly.
He wasn’t sure of how many they had assigned to that task if any.
The captain continued, “Collecting food can be a dangerous challenge. I’m sure you need your men and women dealing with matters here in town. Why not let us help? We’ll go and see what we can come up with. If you like what you see, we’ll continue. If not, we’ll leave. No hard feelings. Of course, we will do everything under your guidance. We’re not here to step on anyone’s toes, are we, lieutenant?”
Elijah’s lip curled. “No, captain. No, we’re not.”
FIFTEEN
Bill Manning
Merced County
Day 12 of the event
Bill “Spider” Manning raised the gun and shot one of his men in the head. The body dropped, and he moved on to the next. They were useless, the whole lot. Good help was hard to find. He wanted to execute every single one and he might have if he had more than twenty guys but he’d already lost eight in an exchange with the Gustine Police. Each time he stood before one, he asked the same question. “How?” He wanted a good reason and no one could give it until he reached the third guy.
“They had help. That guy.”
“That guy? What guy?”
“You remember the woman and dog. It’s him.”
Bill’s brow creased. “He’s dead.”
“No, he’s not. I saw him.”
“So you saw him but never stopped him?”
“Bill, no, what I mean is…”
The gun erupted and with it, the man before him dropped.
He turned to face the others, the ones that were not responsible for watching over the product that had all gone up in smoke. “Anyone else got any excuses?”
Heads shook. Eyes diverted down.
He’d arrived that morning to witness the aftermath for himself. He’d been in Gustine dealing with another problem when the bad news reached him.
Before unleashing hell on his men, he’d stood outside the hotel in Santa Nella, staring at the charred remains, unable to believe what had happened.
It wasn’t meant to happen. He’d specifically picked Santa Nella due to its size, location, and because it was evacuated. It was off the beaten path. No cops. No National Guard were returning here as long as the grid remained down. The same applied to Gustine. He would operate out of Gustine, and once he had the additional firearms from the store in town, he’d take Merced County Correctional and free every damn prisoner.
It was perfect. It would have been perfect.
From the moment the power went out, the cars stalled and phones stopped working, he’d seen it play out in his mind’s eye. He’d already been using the Santa Nella hotel back when he was involved in traf
ficking. Back then though it was a small game. One or two women. Easy to control. Once he’d made connections in the drug trade, his income soared, his lifestyle improved, and the number of those he could control tripled.
“Give a man a fish, and you feed him for the day, teach a man to fish and you will feed him for a lifetime.” Someone higher up the chain had told him that before they taught him to fish, and fish he had, reeling in every damn tweaker he could get his hands on. They were cheap labor. Morons. Pliable in his hands.
All they cared about was that next hit.
The only downside was they weren’t the most reliable.
As for the women, they were just there to bag product. A product that was like gold now that people were spiraling into depression. He was like the candy man, handing out free baggies of sunshine to get people hooked, only to turn around and add them to his crew.
Oh, he still had his steady paying clients, though they now paid in supplies. He’d already bagged a deer yesterday that would feed him and his guys for a week. At the rate he was going, he wouldn’t ever need to worry about food.
It was bliss.
His pitch was always the same.
“Come. Try it. It will take away the worry, you’ll forget. It’s free.”
And they did. He was a modern-day Pied Piper of Hamelin, luring people in and leading them wherever he damn well pleased.
Stripping the women down to nothing more than underwear wasn’t new. It was done all over the world by those in the drug trade. It prevented products from being stolen, it made it easier to search and control them.
And it was working until this.
He faced the rest of his crew.
“Is it true? Was this the work of one man? I hope to God not. As it doesn’t speak well of you all. A man that rises from the dead comes back and does this?” He tutted. “Remember what I offered at the start. You stick by me, you will be fed, you will have access to stash, and you will be at the top of the food chain. But that only works if I can rely on you. If I can’t, you’re a liability like these men,” he said, pointing to the dead. “Now someone tell me they saw where this man went. Give me something, anything I can use.”