Blood Bought: Book Four in The Locker Nine Series

by Franklin Horton

  Asbury snorted a laugh. "Of course she knows where the courthouse is. She’s got druggie written all over her. She’s probably been in court on a regular basis since she was in elementary school.”

  "No," she lied. "I've never been to this town before. I don't know anything about it."

  "She's lying again," Asbury said. “My bullshit detector is dinging like an ice cream truck.”

  Debbie looked at the ground. She didn't know how cops always knew when she was lying but they did. She didn’t know how she gave herself away but there must have been something. Maybe cops had some special sense like Asbury mentioned—a bullshit detector. It was possible, wasn't it?

  His reaction made her wonder about her plan. If she couldn't fool him, could she fool other people? Could she fool the other backpackers that were camped out in town? She would have to be very careful with what she said. She could make up some sad story about a traumatic event that took place on the trail. She’d give the impression that she was too shaken up to talk about it. She could simply break into tears and get hysterical. That usually sent people running in the other direction. She would have to work on a story. She still had a little time.

  “If you’re cool, we’re going to pick up the pace and boogie on out of here," Muncie said. "You take care of yourself and be careful. Take care of those feet and don't let them get infected. Get you some decent shoes when you get to town."

  She threw him a sloppy salute. "Yes sir. I’m on it. Thanks again for the help."

  Muncie broke into a jog, rushing away to catch up with Asbury, already a good distance ahead. Debbie thought the man was perhaps one of the nicer cops she'd ever met. It made her wonder if other cops were decent people outside of the times they were arresting you. She didn't know. Most of her experience with law enforcement either involved her being questioned about her activities or somebody else's.

  It didn’t have to be like that anymore. She was starting a new life and maybe this one would be different. There was no reason she had to be on the wrong side of the fence in this new life. She could try to be a better person. She could put that old life aside.

  Couldn’t she?

  10

  While both the Brady and the Hardwick families were excited to be back together, they didn’t have a lot of time for simply enjoying their reunion. There was too much at stake. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, the congressman and his entourage were coming for them. Brandon was the first to bring up that they probably needed to put a night watch in place immediately. While nobody liked the duty they all understood it was essential. They were already at a tactical disadvantage because of the presumed difference between the size of their group and the size of the congressman’s group. Allowing the other group to gain the element of surprise on top of that simply couldn’t be allowed.

  They were exhausted that first night, physically and emotionally drained, but came up with a plan to post a sentry outside the house for the time being. Although it wasn’t ideal, it was better than nothing. Brandon would take the first shift, Robert the second, and Sonyea the third. Tom and Grace protested that they weren't in the rotation but Robert assured them they would get their opportunity. The ideal situation would be that everyone had nights where they didn’t have to pull guard duty.

  The next day they were at it early, continuing their efforts to make their location more defensible. The tree roadblocks from that first day limited vehicular access to the property but Brandon wanted to establish some fortified fighting positions and sniper hides, both on the property and on the approach roads. The entire crew that felled trees on that first day joined him in building them.

  They cut down more trees and positioned logs in the woods overlooking the approach road. Even though the road was blocked, men could still climb those roadblocks and come in on foot. These positions would be a way to engage them from cover. They cut brush and camouflaged each position when they were satisfied with its construction.

  They created four outposts along the road, two in each direction. Brandon then scouted out several more sniper positions where he felt he could engage the enemy if needed. These would not have log walls. They were simply positions where he took the time to make sure that a sniper would have clear shooting lanes all the way to the road. Any encroaching branches that might affect a bullet’s path were pruned away, bushes were hacked down. Only when Brandon felt he had clear lines of engagement did they move on to the next position. Sniper hides were useless if you couldn’t see or shoot from them. Better to establish them early and put in a little work to make them optimal.

  They worked their way back onto the Hardwick property. In the woods to each side of the driveway they created several of the same fortified shooting positions they’d created along the road. They were simple structures, each built of heavy logs and camouflaged. Each had a clear line of sight to the driveway.

  While they worked, Grace and Tom explained to Robert all the details of the engagement that had taken place on the property in his absence. She explained the fight with Paul and the appearance of the other lowlifes in the dump truck. Brandon listened with great interest. He was very impressed with the safe room in the basement, a feature he’d not seen yet, and the escape tunnel that came up in the outbuilding.

  For both Robert and Brandon it was useful to hear what preparations had functioned well and what gaps in their defenses were revealed by the experience. One of the things that struck Robert was a need to conceal more weapons caches around the property. It would be useful to have weapons and ammunition available at various locations in case they found themselves needing one and were unable to return to the house. In all Robert’s planning, he’d never considered the possibility of someone taking the house and his family being trapped outside, but it had happened. He could only imagine Grace’s shock at returning home to find Paul and Debbie occupying her home. Grace, of course, had been armed at the time, but what if she hadn't been?

  Working on the fighting positions took the group most of the day. They had a lunch of expired MREs which, not surprisingly, turned out to taste no different than MREs which were within the usable date range.

  "What do you think of our chances so far?" Robert asked Brandon while they ate.

  They were sitting in a natural clearing in the forest on the Hardwick’s property, surrounded by ferns and sparse grasses. It was cool, quiet, and pleasant. Sunlight filtered down on them, illuminating the canopy of leaves.

  "I don’t believe in predicting odds," Brandon said. “Sometimes in a fight it’s not about size, skill, or preparation. It’s about getting in that lucky punch. I’m always looking for the opening for making that punch.”

  “Then look at it as a security assessment,” Robert countered. “Take the congressman out of the picture. How defensible is this property?”

  "I see several vulnerabilities. Some of them we can address, others we can't. Lack of manpower is one of those significant vulnerabilities we’ll just have to accept, unless you have some B-Team that hasn’t showed its face yet.”

  Robert laughed. “Sorry, no reinforcements. What you see is what you get.”

  “Then you have a lot to of ground to cover with only a few people. If the folks we’re expecting actually show up, coming out on top will depend on how much advance warning we get. That could make all the difference. We want to engage them offsite. If the fight makes it as far as your home, we want the force to already have suffered significant losses and be second-guessing their decision to come here."

  "I have some tricks up my sleeve," Robert said. "I’ll defer to your judgement as to how to best utilize them. I have the supplies to set up tripwires from grenade fuses and shotgun primers. I also have the materials to improvise some self-firing weapons that can be triggered by tripwires.”

  For the first time since he’d met him, Robert saw Brandon smile. “Now you’re talking my language. If you’ll point me to those supplies later, I can come up with a plan for them.”

  "I think yo
u’ll be pleased," Robert said. “I’m pretty certain I have the materials for around a hundred tripwires.”

  "What about old barbed wire?" Brandon asked. "I grew up in Midwest farming country and the farmers where I lived would dispose of old barbed wire in sinkholes because it was so hard to get rid of. Do you know where there might be any old piles of barbed wire like that?"

  Robert's eyes lit up. "As a matter fact I do."

  "It's not the same as modern concertina wire but it beats the hell out of nothing. People can’t just run through it. No one wants holes jabbed in them by rusty metal points. If we can get our hands on some, we can put loose coils in positions around the house. It will restrict foot traffic and maybe create some chokepoints. That will slow folks down and make them easier to shoot."

  "I also have a couple of rolls of new barbed wire," Robert said. “I have some leftover partial rolls sitting down there in the boneyard."

  "I like the sound of that. Maybe we should take a look at this boneyard of yours after we get done. There may be other materials we can use to create booby-traps.”

  "I hadn't even considered booby-traps," Grace said.

  "All traps serve the same purpose," Robert said. "They hunt while you’re doing something else. They increase your effectiveness and compensate for differences in force size.”

  "Back to your question about rating our chances, we still don't know how much time we have," Brandon said. "They could be here any time. We need to be ready to engage at a moment’s notice. We also need to continue improving things. Everything we are doing improves our odds. We need to stay positive. We can do this.”

  After their day of labor on the farm and surrounding properties, the group slogged home to find that Theresa and Leslie had prepared dinner for the group. The family still had several freezers full of meat in the basement, both from livestock they’d raised or traded for. Knowing her army of laborers would be famished, Theresa cooked two large roasts in crockpots with roasted potatoes, carrots, and onions from the garden. There was corn on the cob and delicate dinner rolls made from scratch.

  Upon entering the house tired, dirty, and starving, the smell was almost too much for the group to bear. Their salivary floodgates slammed open and hunger hit them with a burning intensity.

  "Dear God, please tell me dinner is almost ready,” Robert groaned. “If it's not, I'm going to go stand in the yard. I can’t take this smell."

  The rest of the group voiced their agreement. No one could remember the last time they had pot roast with all the trimmings but it had clearly been too long. This was an unexpected treat.

  "It's almost ready," Theresa said. “To make things easier with a group this size, I’m going to start filling plates and set them out on the bar. Just grab one that suits you. There’s seating at the kitchen table, in the living room, or outside on the porch. Just sit where you’re comfortable. If there's something you need but can't find, just ask. Don’t be shy."

  Everyone quickly cleaned up and returned to the kitchen, circling like a pack of hungry dogs. Motivated by their desperate looks, Theresa worked quickly, slicing roast and scooping vegetables onto plates. Even Dylan and Blake pitched in, setting out stacks of napkins and utensils. Theresa had made several gallons of sun tea and offered both a sweetened and unsweetened variety.

  When she had several plates ready to go, she nodded at the horde. "It's ready."

  With that, it was like dropping the gate at a dog track. The starving swarmed in from all directions grabbing plates, utensils, drinks and napkins. As quickly as they had what they wanted, they scurried off for a safe place to eat. Most of those who had been working outside all day chose to eat on the back porch since they were dirty and sweaty.

  The sun had settled behind the distant ridge and shade made the porch pleasant. There was no conversation. Everyone was busy tearing into their dinner like they hadn’t seen food in months.

  Theresa stuck her head out the door. "I just wanted to say that I've fixed more than enough. I know you all are burning a lot of calories so this is not the time for just having one plate out of politeness. There's enough that everyone can have multiple servings. I planned on it, so please help yourself and eat all you want.”

  Having delivered her message, Theresa backed into the house before anyone responded. No one said a word. No one wanted to use their mouth for talking when it could be better utilized for the purpose of eating. It wasn't until they started getting seconds that people actually paused long enough to say a few words.

  "Maybe after dinner we split up into teams," Tom suggested. “If someone shows me how, I can assemble booby traps while you guys put them in place.”

  "We need to draw a map of where we put any traps and tripwires," Brandon said. "That way we can narrow down where an intruder might be if an alert is tripped.”

  "That’s a good idea," Robert said. "I wouldn’t have thought of that. I'd suggest Grace be on one team and I be on the other. Each of us knows the property well enough to map out locations.”

  “I think I’m sleeping outside the wire tonight," Brandon said. "I don't feel comfortable with that road unguarded. I'd like to set up camp inside one of the outposts we built along the road. We could set some tripwires across the road to offer a warning if they slip past the log barricades on foot.”

  “When do you want to be relieved?” Robert asked.

  “I’ll work all night in a single shift,” Brandon said. “I’ll grab a few hours of sleep in the morning once the sun comes up and people are moving around. I still think you need to keep a watch going on the property tonight though, in case they get by me.”

  Robert knew this was a good idea but it bothered him. It was hard to enjoy being home when home was the new battlefront.

  After dinner it was agreed that the work parties should immediately get back at it while Leslie, Theresa, and the boys put the kitchen back in order. Just as Robert was preparing to head out the door, Leslie pulled him to the side.

  “Can I speak to you and Theresa in private, please?”

  "Sure," Robert said. He had no idea what she might want.

  He gathered Theresa and they retreated back through the house to Robert's office. It was the only private room with enough seating for the three of them. Robert settled in at his desk which brought an onrush of feelings. He hadn’t spent any time in his office since he got home. Just being in that room made him miss it, made him miss the creativity of writing books. He wondered if there would be a day again when he could do that. Writing about the apocalypse was a hell of a lot more fun than experiencing it.

  "So what's going on?" Theresa asked since Robert was lost in his own personal reverie.

  Leslie sighed heavily, her brow furrowed, her face dark with concern. Clearly she had something on her mind that she was hesitant to bring up. Her expression raised a feeling of dread within Robert. He had enough on his plate to worry about right now and he hoped she wasn’t about to add to it.

  "I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, taking care of me and Dylan the last week or two. I've been thinking about it, though, and your house is a little full right now.”

  “Oh, we have plenty of room,” Theresa said.

  Leslie continued. “Well, we also had a deal and you all made it clear to me this was not a permanent arrangement.”

  Robert held up a hand. "I know what I said when I brought you here but you are not imposing on anyone right now. Our supplies are holding out and there's no hurry. We’re not rushing you out the door."

  Leslie shook her head resolutely. "A deal is a deal and I want to go back to my own house. I miss it. I miss having my own life. I’ll take those supplies you offered us for coming to stay with Theresa in the first place, though it wasn't necessary. She’s a friend and I would have done it anyway."

  Theresa looked very worried. She had also pointed out to Leslie that this was only a temporary arrangement but it was a very dangerous time to leave. "Are you sure, Leslie? Town is probably very dangerous
right now. I haven’t been but I've heard things from Grace and Robert. I'm not sure you'd be safe. Think of Dylan."

  Leslie cut Theresa a hard look. "That was a cheap shot. I think of nothing but Dylan. You all didn't take me to raise. I'm a survivor and I'll be just fine. I made it this far on my own and I reckon I can take care of myself for a few more years before somebody has to put me in a home. All I'll ask, if it’s not too much trouble, is for a ride into town. I’m not sure this old granny can walk it."

  "I can probably get you there in the side-by-side ATV," Robert said. "The main roads are impassable. We blocked them off for security reasons. We haven’t explored the old logging roads enough to know if we can get a truck down them yet. When do you want to go?"

  "In the morning," Leslie said firmly. "If that fits into your schedule, of course. I'll pack our stuff this evening.”

  “So this is it?” Theresa said. “Your mind is already made up? I’m not okay with this.”

  “Don’t reckon you have to be,” Leslie said. “But I appreciate your concern.”

  Robert gave Leslie a serious look across the clutter of his desk. "I hope you'll take tonight to think about this. I've never been one to try to change people's minds. I believe people make their own decisions in life. Everyone should be responsible for themselves and the consequences of their decisions. I just want make sure you’ve fully thought this out."

  Leslie shrugged, a gesture that took an inordinate amount of effort, as if she were not certain she was making the right decision, either. "I will think about it but I'm a stubborn old lady and my mind is made up. I ain’t disposed to changing my mind once it’s made up."

  Theresa held a hand over her mouth like she’d just received devastating news. Her eyes raced, looking for options where there didn’t appear to be any. While Robert understood there could be grave and perhaps deadly consequences to her decision, he was serious in that he believed each person chose their own path in life. If he tried to alter the course of her decision, was he responsible if she suffered for taking his advice?