The Geostorm Series (Book 4): Geostorm [The Flood]

by Akart, Bobby

  Tommy replied, “For one thing, you’ve got numbers on your side. In traditional guerilla warfare or insurgency actions, there are usually a small number of armed civilians or militia standing up against a much larger, well-organized military force. In this situation, you have a family of three and a sheriff’s department of, what, a dozen deputies?”

  “Maybe two dozen,” replied the hardware store owner.

  “Okay, even if it’s two dozen, you are almost as well armed as they are, but I’m not suggesting a gunfight because a lot of folks aren’t trained for that,” Tommy explained. “Besides, when it’s all said and done, some of these deputies are your neighbors and acquaintances. I get there are criminals included among them, but I truly don’t believe any of you wants to kill or be killed.”

  A woman who was standing nearby asked, “So what can we do? It seems hopeless.”

  “You agitate. You hit ’em where they ain’t, to borrow an old baseball saying. It appears the sheriff has placed a lot of resources here to defend Billy from the angry mob. Who’s guarding the locations where the liquor and groceries and hardware supplies are stored?”

  “Just one patrol car.”

  Tommy pointed down the hill toward the house. “Okay, so while many of you hold all these deputies at bay, gather up some help and raid their storage facility. Use ambushes, petty hit-and-run tactics and even sabotage to aggravate or distract the sheriff’s people. Soon, with a little success, you’ll begin to recruit more people to the cause, and eventually, the Clarks will back down.”

  “I love it!” shouted one of the protestors.

  “Count me in, and the rest of my family!” hollered another.

  Soon, the group was exchanging high fives and giving each other words of encouragement until one of them sloppily dropped their handgun, causing it to discharge and sending a bullet in the direction of the house before it embedded in a cedar tree.

  Chapter 43

  Cedar Glade

  Billy Clark’s Residence

  Corydon, Indiana

  Timing is everything, as the saying goes. Levi had always lived by the premise that if something was meant to happen, it would. At the right time. At the right place. And for all the right reasons. He heard the report of a gun coming from the front of the house. Like the starting pistol fired to start a track race, Levi saw the distraction as prompting him to get moving. It was time.

  With his eyes trained on Billy standing in the middle of his study, the dancing flames in the fireplace causing a lengthy silhouette to form up the wall onto the ceiling, Levi raced across the wet lawn near the swollen waters of Indian Creek.

  Shouting could be heard from the road fronting Cedar Glade. Levi resisted the urge to lose focus in order to discern what was happening. He was thankful for the distraction, as Billy seemed keenly engrossed by the activity although he didn’t leave the safety of his study.

  Levi quietly walked up several brick steps that led to the large wood porch that ran the length of the house. The fresh paint covered with a water sealant caused the water to bubble, but it also caused the surface to become slippery. He moved along the back wall, crouching under the kitchen windows until he eased up to the French doors entering Billy’s study.

  Billy stood facing the foyer, the orange glow of the fireplace and candles providing Levi plenty of light to see his target was alone, but armed. With a glass of whiskey in his left hand and a pistol pointed toward the foyer in his right, Billy nervously waited for one of the townsfolk to break down his front door.

  He’d assigned Wanda to look out the windows and provide him reports of what was happening. She wasn’t able to see, but Levi could hear her shout her observations to Billy.

  Levi waited. Through the doorway leading to the foyer, he could see Wanda cupping her face as she peered through the sidelight window. Suddenly, she turned and ran up the stairs. Billy took a step forward and called out her name. He held his weapon toward the study door, anticipating someone coming through it. This was what Levi had waited for.

  He took a deep breath and carefully tried the knob of the French door to confirm it was unlocked. Once he decided to burst in, he wouldn’t be able to hesitate, as he had to quickly close fifteen feet to reach Billy.

  Levi drew the Colt revolver and studied the floor of the study to assess his footing. The files were strewn about now, as if a tornado had spun around the room a couple of times. Knowing what to expect, he quickly turned the knob and entered the room, followed by a rush of cold air and rain at his back.

  He caught the drunken Billy off guard, rushing up behind him and cocking the hammer on the pistol in time to stick it in Billy’s jawline. Billy’s eyes grew wide, but his fear prevented him from shouting out. With his left hand, Levi reached around to grab Billy’s gun, knocking the glass of whiskey out of his left in the process. The liquor spilled all over the front of the silk robe. He managed to disarm Billy without him firing a shot or calling for help.

  “Don’t say a dang word, Billy. I’ll shoot you through the face and be gone before anyone comes through that door.”

  “Okay.” His voice sounded more like a gasp.

  With the pistol jammed against Billy’s face, Levi slowly moved around the obese banker and gently pushed the study door closed. Then he pushed Billy in the back until he stumbled into the desk, which in turn spilled the banker’s beloved whiskey. Billy and bottle fell in a heap on top of a pile of loan files.

  He raised himself onto his hands and knees, but Levi shoved his boot against his butt, knocking him back down.

  Billy rolled over and stared at Levi. “Whadya want, Boone?”

  Levi paused for an awkward few seconds. He really didn’t know what he wanted. Well, he wanted his father back. Eddie and Karl, too. He wanted Billy to apologize for the stress he’d caused the Boone family. He didn’t want his mother, and the family, to lose Riverfront Farms. Now that he had Bully Billy Clark right where he wanted him, Levi wasn’t sure what would satisfy his anger.

  Billy saw an opening. He began to scramble toward the French doors in an attempt to escape. His effort failed as he got tangled up in his whiskey-soaked robe and slipped on the papers sprawled over the floor.

  “Get up! Slowly!” shouted Levi.

  Billy, who’d managed to sober up quickly after Levi pointed the gun in his face, was still clumsy as he rose to his feet with the aid of the corner of his desk.

  He stood with his robe open, displaying his underwear. He raised his arms in the air and studied Levi. Still alive, he was regaining his confidence. “You’re not a killer, Boone. Listen, I get it. You’re pissed. How about I get with you tomorrow. We’ll let tempers simmer and, um, I’ll write up a quick loan extension. How’s that?”

  “You’re a horrible liar,” said Levi with a wicked laugh. “I have a better idea. How about we trade your life for the cancelling of my family’s loan. Seriously, how much do we owe? A few hundred thousand? Your life’s worth more than that, isn’t it?”

  “No can do, Boone. State bank auditors wouldn’t stand for it. Let’s you and me have a drink and talk this out.” Billy quickly knelt down and picked up the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He gulped some down before Levi angrily thrust the gun toward him. He surmised Billy was trying to buy time.

  “Drop the bottle! No more drinking and no more talk!”

  Billy tossed the now-empty bottle to the floor and raised his hands again. He slurred his words now. “C’mon, Boone. You gotta be reasonable about this.”

  “Are these loan files?” asked Levi, but before Billy responded, Levi scanned the desk to look at the folders. He saw his father’s name on a thick file and picked it up.

  “Hey, that belongs to the Bank of Corydon. Put that down.”

  Levi shifted the Colt pistol to his left hand. While he held Billy at gunpoint, he thumbed through the paperwork. He saw a copy of the Notice of Foreclosure, a document titled Promissory Note, and another titled Deed of Trust. He nodded and smiled as he picked it up
and thrust it into Billy’s belly.

  “We’ll start with this one,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

  Billy cradled the file in his arms like it was a newborn baby. “Whadya mean?”

  Levi waved the gun toward the fireplace. “Burn it!”

  Chapter 44

  Cedar Glade

  Billy Clark’s Residence

  Corydon, Indiana

  “Come on, Boone! You know I can’t do this. I’ll get in trouble with the state banking regulators!”

  Levi pointed his weapon at Billy’s head and then waved it at the fireplace. “Die or burn. Your choice!”

  The banker tried to deflect and plead with Levi. “It won’t matter if I burn them. They’re on computer files at the bank. I can enforce—”

  “Shut up! If you had another option, you wouldn’t be tryin’ so hard. Let’s go!”

  Levi stepped toward Billy and menacingly waved the gun toward his forehead. Billy stopped his bargaining and slowly walked toward the fire, glancing at the study one last time, hoping Wanda or Randy or anyone would come to his aid. He arrived at the roaring fire, which was sending sparks in all directions as the moisture in the oak popped and hissed.

  “Boone, please.” He tried one last-ditch effort, begging Levi to change his mind.

  In response, Levi twisted the barrel of the revolver into the back of Billy’s head.

  Slowly, page by page, until the entire file folder’s contents had been emptied, Billy Clark burned the evidence of Squire Boone’s indebtedness to the Bank of Corydon in the fireplace. The flames grew larger and hotter as the paper became fully engulfed. Dark ashes and bits of the documents went up the chimney while others floated onto the hearth.

  Billy dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head. “There. Satisfied? Now leave me alone and get out.”

  Levi stood his ground and his eyes darted around the room. Hundreds of files were spread throughout the study or in piles on the floor. These were the loan files of the people of Corydon. They represented the leverage and control the Clarks had on the town. Levi thought of the pain Billy and his family had caused over the years because of their financial misdeeds.

  Then he thought of Carly and the kids. He should leave. He should run off into the night and be happy with what he’d accomplished.

  But that wasn’t his way.

  “We’re not done yet, Billy. Now burn the rest of ’em.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I can’t do this. I won’t. I’ll be ruined. I’ll go to prison.”

  “Tough shit, Billy. Move!” Levi thrust the pistol against Billy’s ribs.

  The jab frightened Billy, who slipped and fell to his knees in front of the fire. He began to sob, begging Levi to go. Levi kicked the files toward the fireplace to make it easy for Billy. In between sobs, Billy picked up the files and glanced at the names before he tossed them into the flames.

  For more than a minute, the loans of Corydon’s borrowers were annihilated in an ever-growing inferno that continued to climb up the chimney and grow hotter.

  Billy lost control of his emotions as he tossed one file after another into the flames, no longer attempting to feed documents slowly in a controlled manner. The liquor numbed his senses, and the emotional angst of losing all of the bank’s loan portfolio placed him on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

  He no longer looked at Levi, who had quietly backed away toward the French doors and onto the porch. Instead, Billy stared longingly at each file as if it were an old family photograph he was being forced to destroy.

  Soon, the pile on the fire grew so large that the ashes and coals began to spill out onto the hearth. Billy was robotic in his movements, his drunken state of mind resulting in his inattention as he threw the files onto the flames. He had no idea the fire had consumed the fireplace, spreading across the hearth, and now threatened the two-hundred-year-old heart-pine floors.

  In an instant, the superheated flames caused an air pocket in one of the logs to send sparks flying into the room and onto his whiskey-soaked silk robe.

  The garment ignited immediately and spread in a flash. Billy screamed for help and scrambled to his feet. In his half-drunken state, he struggled to take off the robe as the flames seared into his flesh.

  The fire spread to the files at his feet, and he started to jump to avoid the heat. He turned and ran toward the porch. The rain would douse the flames, or Indian Creek would, he was sure of it. With his legs spread as he ran and his arms waving in circles as if he wanted to take flight, Billy stumbled toward the water to stop the burning. His screams were guttural, primal, not human.

  He never made it. He slipped on the wet grass and fell face-first onto the wet turf. A sizzling sound could be heard as the heat of the flames came into contact with the moisture, but the fire continued to burn his flesh until the rains eventually doused them.

  It was too late. Billy Clark was dead.

  On the edge of the woods, standing stoically against a tree, an unemotional Levi Boone muttered, “Burn in hell.”

  Chapter 45

  Riverfront Farms

  Southeast Indiana

  Emboldened by Tommy’s and Allen’s words of encouragement, the protesting locals became even more belligerent as they faced off against the sheriff’s deputies. While the two sides hurled threats and insults at each other, the four horsemen decided to ease away from the highly volatile situation. Their primary objective was to look for Levi, who was not among the crowd, nor had any of them seen him.

  After watching the back-and-forth for ten minutes or so, the group noticed smoke beginning to billow out of the fireplace chimney, coupled with the occasional red flame. Allen pointed out that Cedar Glade’s chimney might be susceptible to a flue fire due to its age. He had no idea what was really happening in that house.

  With the entire sheriff’s contingent focusing their attention on the crowd in front of the house and the grounds in between them, Chapman suggested they leave. Even in the darkness and amidst the falling rain, he could see Indian Creek rising to the side and most likely the rear of Cedar Glade.

  Twenty minutes later, they were at the Edmunds’ property, picking up their cache of weapons and ammunition. It took over two hours to return to Riverfront Farms from there because they had to walk the horses, which were loaded down with the heavy bullets.

  Daylight came and the rain continued. Chapman stated in all of his years studying meteorology and chasing weather systems, he’d never seen a rainfall event like this one. Certainly, major hurricanes brought plenty of moisture out of the warm waters where they were generated. However, once the storm system moved on with the aid of a high-pressure system, the rain moved with it.

  They tied the horses off in front of the house. Sarah emerged on the porch as the group hurriedly offloaded the ammunition and weapons. “Did you find him?”

  Kristi greeted her and nonchalantly kissed her on the cheek. “How are you this morning?”

  “Better. Carly just left for their house on Squire’s donkey. What about Levi?”

  “Nothing, Mom. We went to Allen’s and then into town. There were a bunch of people gathered outside Billy’s place, ranting and raving. None of them had seen Levi, and with all the police presence protecting the house, we doubt he was up there.”

  Sarah closed her eyes and sighed. “Carly still thinks he’s hiding in the woods somewhere. She’s gonna check the house to see if he changed clothes or looked for any food.”

  “Did she go alone?” asked Chapman, who joined them on the porch. He smiled as Isabella emerged from the house, with Brooke on her hip.

  “Yes. She took her gun and said she’d be fine. I’ll be honest, son. She’s pretty wound up. I hope nobody crosses her out there.”

  Sarah spoke to Tommy for a moment while Chapman gave Isabella and Brooke a hug. She whispered in his ear, “We missed you last night.”

  Chapman chuckled and scruffed on Brooke’s neck, drawing a smile from the chimp. “She slept with you?”<
br />
  “She did. Twice, she woke up wanting to play. I tried to explain it was time to sleep. I believe she is enamored with my accent.”

  “Who isn’t?” Chapman asked rhetorically as a wave of sadness came over him. He remembered his father’s first reaction when he met Isabella, and the playful banter from his mom. He sighed as he considered the fact that would never happen again.

  Isabella picked up on his emotions and apologized for upsetting him, although she wasn’t sure why. He shook it off and grabbed two ammo cans off the porch. The group gathered in the living room to relay the story of what had happened to Sarah and Isabella.

  Sarah fixed breakfast and coffee for the group. While she was out of earshot, they brought up the issue of the rain and rising water levels.

  Chapman spoke in an unemotional, matter-of-fact tone. “The creeks we crossed twelve hours ago are nearly a foot higher already. This rain has got to stop or we’ll have a serious problem here.”

  “The river is expanding up the hill, too,” added Isabella. “Before Carly left this morning, I walked down the driveway to see. The water has crossed the road and is now into the gravel.”

  “There’s no place for the water to go,” said Tommy. “Guys, I don’t know anything about Indiana, but what are the elevations here?”

  Chapman replied, “Hoosier Hill, southeast of Indianapolis, is the highest at around twelve hundred feet. I think the river is somewhere around four hundred feet above sea level. Most of the state is around seven hundred.”

  Tommy nodded and rubbed his temples as he thought. “What is the highest point of your farm?”

  Chapman glanced at Kristi, who shrugged. Before he could provide an educated guess, Sarah returned from the kitchen with a tray of biscuits and butter.

  She looked at Chapman. “I’d say Wolfpen Ridge, right, dear?”

  Chapman furrowed his brow, stuck out his lower lip, and nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right. It’s on the back end of our property to the east of the house. It’s heavily wooded and we just use it for timber. I guess it’s a couple of hundred feet above where we are now.”