Sanctuary Forever WITSEC Town Series Book 5

by Lisa Phillips

  “She’s already in jeopardy,” the assistant said as she took her place at the table. “We all are. The young, the old, the infirm, and those entirely capable of taking care of themselves. Now, the sheriff isn’t here, so it’s up to us.”

  “If he was, we’d be right beside him.” Bolton glanced at the general, and then back at his assistant. “You know that. It’s exactly what we did when that rogue SEAL had the town under his thumb.”

  The general said, “Well then why stop now? We can do this if we team up, just like last time and every time. Chandler is only one man. His army? Maybe ten at a push, and I can count on three fingers how many of them have military training.”

  “They have guns.” Matthias’s Italian buddies nodded at his words.

  “So do we.”

  Bolton stared at him. “Where did you get weapons? The mayor and Chandler’s men took all mine, all Matthias’s. Probably all of Dan’s. I saw one take the gun from John’s hand after they killed him.” He prayed something had happened and John was okay. It was a long-shot, but the man’s body hadn’t disappeared all by itself, and Andra’s leaving the town with the kids was way too planned.

  There had to be something going on. It was what he and Matthias had been talking about before they were invaded—John bringing the cavalry.

  Major General Halt grinned. “Battle night.”

  “Those are paintball guns.”

  “That we’ve now converted into AR-15’s.” The general’s expression stayed neutral, like he was discussing what kind of sugar to buy. “Expensive, but possible.”

  Bolton felt his eyebrows rise. “When?”

  “Since the SEAL went rampage. People are dying, Bolton.”

  “You want to start a war? What, roll into town and start shooting up Chandler’s men? You’re going to start a blood bath.”

  “Do you want to take the town back, or not? It’s really that simple, Bolton. Some of us are willing to risk our lives to win this town back.” The general paused, way too accustomed to the dramatic effect of his voice. “We’ll split up, A team and B team, just like every time we practiced. The underlings can be overpowered easily. We just need a place to contain them. Then we go after the top dogs.”

  Bolton didn’t even know where to start. This was the craziest idea of all the crazy ideas he’d ever heard in his life. Sure, they needed something dramatic to happen, but Nadia had just encouraged him to pray, saying that was all they needed to do. “Major General—”

  “Son, what do you think Battle Night was for? Years we’ve been training for this.”

  “We have no advantage.”

  “We have surprise.”

  Matthias interjected with, “It won’t be enough. People will get hurt. Maybe even killed.”

  “War is never free of casualties.”

  Bolton watched the fight range across Matthias’s face and knew exactly what the man was feeling. Was Matthias going to go out and fight when it could cost Frannie and the baby their lives? They’d all seen John fall. The likelihood that he’d walked away from a chest shot and that he’d managed to get to help. That the help was then actually coming. It was a long-shot.

  And the best chance they had.

  Matthias said, “I’m in.”

  “Me too.” “Yeah.” The Italians would die side-by-side with him if it took that.

  The general’s assistant said, “Me.”

  “Me.” The general turned to Bolton and gave him a pointed look.

  Movement at the doorway brought his attention around. “Me.”

  Bolton stared down his teenage son, the boy he hadn’t even met until a few months ago. “No.”

  “This is my home, too, Dad.”

  He’d never even called Bolton that. Not until tonight.

  Chapter 27

  Dan pushed through the door to the Meeting House kitchen. Olympia’s face glistened with sweat, as she closed the cupboard below the sink and turned to see him. Her eyes flashed with something he couldn’t pinpoint, then he lifted a dish towel tucked in her skirt and wiped her forehead. “Dan.” She half-whispered his name.

  The big soup pot on the stove was full of a broth in which she’d put sausage and potato. The liquid bubbled, giving off a cloud of steam that filled the room. It smelled good but since it was for the sheriff and his men who cared what it tasted like? Dan wanted to grab the handles and throw it on the floor. They could starve for what they were doing to the people in this town.

  Olympia lifted a wooden spoon and stirred the pot. He glanced around the room. There was no time to make a trip to the farm and pick some herbs. Not for flavor, no. He’d pick the ones that shouldn’t be consumed. Dan didn’t grow everything for food. Some plants had other jobs—and some were toxic in varying quantities. But they would notice his absence.

  He wondered if there was anything in here that would have the same effect. Cleaning supplies. Rat poison. A wave of guilt rushed over him at even thinking it. I’m sorry, Papa. I shouldn’t even be thinking this, even if I could find the courage to do it. Even if killing might save the lives of more innocents.

  Olympia didn’t look over. “I told them you hadn’t joined the sheriff. I knew you’d never do that. There had to be some other reason you were with them.”

  “They killed Chase.” That wasn’t the reason, but he needed to ask his next question. “Has anyone been to the farm to check on Miranda?”

  Olympia nodded. “Louis went out there earlier. When he came back he reported to Matthias, who told me, that Miranda was dead. Her body was on top of Chase’s. He said a gun was next to her hand.”

  “She killed herself?” Dan’s thoughts spooked like a horse and bolted.

  Olympia’s eyes filled with tears. “I won’t let them take anymore from me. I won’t let them destroy this town when I can do something to stop it.”

  Dan saw the darkness in her eyes. He’d never known her to be anything other than warm and caring, though he’d seen her get frustrated with her kids and the fact they were adults who sometimes had to be left alone to make dumb adult decisions on their own. Olympia only wanted good things for everyone she knew, and often went out of her way to give that to them.

  What could have put that darkness in her eyes now?

  “Olympia—”

  “It’s done. Too late now. There’s nothing to do but let things take their course. If God doesn’t like what I’ve done then he shouldn’t have put me in the situation where this was my only option.” She moved close to whisper in his face, her voice vehement. “Damned now, or not. I will have no regrets. These men murdered my child, and I’m past the point of caring about my future. I’ll plead my case with Almighty God.”

  “Olympia.” Her name broke from his lips like a warning. Had she done what he’d thought of doing himself? And how could he blame her for it? “What did you—”

  The door swung open. “What’s taking so long? We’re hungry.” His face was set, uncaring that his friend had been shot in the street by a sniper. This man only cared to fill his belly.

  Olympia said, “It’s almost ready.”

  “Good. We gotta eat before they bring the China girl in. Then it’s fun time.”

  Dan’s stomach churned. He fought to tense it enough he didn’t hurl up nothing. A growl erupted from his middle. Olympia went to the counter and tore off a roll from a bag. She handed it over. “Eat this. Not the soup.”

  Dan held the roll in his hand. “What did you do?”

  “Maybe nothing. Maybe something bad. However it turns out is up to the Lord. I don’t know what affect it will have on them, but I put plenty in.”

  His stomach flipped. What had she done? “Plenty of—”

  Olympia cut him off. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to, Pastor. Just carry out the soup so the men out there can eat.”

  Dan glanced at the circular window, the men beyond restless to eat when the rest of the town suffered at home. Cut off. Shut out. Oppressed. Overtaken.
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  Dan grabbed the pot and pushed through the swinging doors. Papa, forgive us. “Soup’s on.”

  He set it on the table beside where Olympia had laid out bowls and spoons. She set the rolls beside it and handed him a ladle. It shook. Was she having second thoughts about what she’d done? Dan prayed no one would die. If she’d poisoned the soup, this could be bad. As he served the soup, he asked for God’s intervention. Olympia had surrendered her life to Him, and Dan wanted only what God desired for this situation. He would continue to pray, for however long Chandler insisted on lording it over the people who lived here, and Dan would never let them walk all over anyone. He should have stopped them from shooting John, and that would forever now be his biggest regret—he hadn’t stood up to them.

  Could he do it now?

  Men filed past them. Dan handed each a small bowl of soup. If there was too much poison, they could die. He didn’t want to be a murderer, but this was war and they’d declared it as such with their invasion. Wasn’t killing justified in wartime? People’s lives were at stake, and these didn’t care who was hurt. Men, women, children. Young and old were in danger.

  Dan could attempt to justify it in his head as much as he wanted, and he could come up with a solid argument. But that didn’t remove the lump in his throat at the idea that he could be complicit in anyone’s death. It never would. Some were meant to be soldiers, caretakers of the weak, and those unable to defend themselves. Dan wasn’t. He shepherded, he had to. He safeguarded, because that choice had been taken away from him, and he hadn’t been able to protect his mother.

  The rest of the town needed his help now. Olympia had made a decision, but Dan intended to follow through. How it would turn out was up to the Lord, and Dan trusted Him that it would honor Him. That was Dan’s chief desire.

  He turned his back to the now eating men, and leaned close to Olympia’s ear. “I need a minute to slip out the back. If they have Mei, then I need to find Gemma.”

  It had been driving him crazy wondering if she was okay after she’d escaped from the Evangeline’s house. What was she thinking? Was she hurt? It was like she’d disappeared, and unless someone was hiding her in their home, there was only one place he could think of that Gemma would have gone to.

  Olympia leaned back, a blank look on her face he didn’t know how to read. “I don’t feed traitors like you. Go clean up the kitchen.”

  Someone snickered.

  Dan nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He strode to the kitchen and pushed at the door. A scuffle brought his attention back around. Two men hauled Mei in by her arms, her legs dangling on the floor behind her. Limp. Both men had blood on their faces—one a nasty gash, the other a broken nose from the look of it. They looked like they’d been in an MMA fight.

  Chandler lowered his spoon. “What happened to you?”

  “She put up a fight, but we knocked her out.” One man let go. Mei’s body swung toward the man holding her other arm, and he let go so that she hit the floor on her shoulder. She didn’t move.

  Chandler said, “Tie her to a chair, and then get something to eat. We all need our strength. This isn’t going to be over for a while.”

  Dan wanted to know what more he thought was going to happen. Or did he just mean dealing with the town? Perhaps he was just prepared for the resistance people would show them all as they weren’t prepared to simply submit to a new authority. He didn’t like the way Mei’s shoulder was angled. Had they dislocated it? The two men looked like they’d been put through the ringer, which meant she’d put up a good fight. How badly had they hurt her just to get her knocked out?

  He should be out the door, looking for Gemma. Something held him there while everything in him cried out for him to go. To find her. Dan’s gaze didn’t move from Mei’s prone body. He had no idea what they had planned, but he wasn’t going to let them hurt her. Gemma—wherever she was—likely was a whole lot safer than Mei was right now. Papa, is she safe? Dan felt the war in him battle between going to Gemma and staying to make sure Mei was guarded.

  The men lifted Mei into a chair and taped her to it. The way her shoulder looked, there was something seriously wrong. Her head hung down, her hair obscuring her face. Dan walked over. He touched her cheeks and lifted her chin. Mei’s face was a mess of bruises, swollen cuts, and abrasions.

  He lowered her head gently and glanced back at the sheriff. “This woman needs a doctor.”

  Chandler sneered. “She can handle it. You just worry about that bleeding heart of yours.”

  So now caring about people was a weakness? Dan didn’t worry about his “bleeding heart” one bit. The compassion he had for others was God-given in a world where he’d been classified a victim.

  Dan strode to the door. “I need some air.”

  Whether he took off to see Gemma or not, Dan needed to get out of this room. The air felt like it was choking him, like he was right back with his father. The recipient of that man’s harsh words and violent temper.

  “Not so fast.”

  Dan turned, one hand on the front door. The cool, dark night air only inches beyond the wood under his palm. Air. Freedom. He looked back across the room. Chandler had stood, Mei halfway between them. Two of the men now pointed their guns at him.

  Chandler said, “No one gave you permission to leave.”

  “I need some air, that’s all.”

  “Sit down, Daniel. It isn’t time for you to go just yet.”

  **

  “Everyone has their list of names?” No one indicated they didn’t. Bolton bit his lip. Were they really going to do this?

  The general leaned against the counter. “We’re all set. Everyone has their quadrant to take care of.”

  But this wasn’t Battle Night, it was real. “We should pray before we go out.”

  Javier walked over, so Bolton held out his hand. When the boy took it, Bolton bowed his head and prayed. There was a limited amount of things he could do from his wheelchair, but that might work to his advantage. Helplessness gave him the element of surprise. He was counting on these guys seeing only the chair—and not remembering the fact he could walk a few steps.

  When he said, “Amen” and lifted his head, Nadia stood in the doorway, a gun held loose in her hand. She lifted her chin. “If you’re doing this, so am I.”

  **

  Andra kissed Nicholas on his perfect cheek. His skin was warm and soft, there was really nothing in the world like the feel of a baby. She re-adjusted the blanket that didn’t need fixing and left him to sleep on her coat that she’d bundled up on the floor. Wide awake, Andra surveyed the room. Pat, asleep on the floor in the corner. Aaron, two feet away from his brother, the comic book they’d been reading between them.

  She walked through the shell of the building John had begun constructing. He’d made more progress than she’d imagined, and the bag had been under the new floorboard right where she’d had it stashed in the cabin that had burned down.

  He’d put it there. For her. He’d been here—but when?

  The gratitude sat in her stomach along with all the questions. The mix was like a tart dessert. Not all the way sweet and satisfying when the first taste was too sharp to enjoy. John. She wanted him there with her, not who knew where. Dead or alive. There could only be one reason his pack was gone while hers had been under the floorboards. He’d been here before he went… wherever he went.

  Lord, where did he go? Andra wandered to the door and picked up the shotgun that leaned against the wall inside. There were no windows, just openings that let the air in. The wind. The rain. Exposed with little protection from the elements.

  That was how she felt. Exposed. Alone, protecting her boys. Wondering if her husband would ever come.

  She stepped outside onto the grass and over the exposed frame of the porch. She’d be able to hear if the boys were hurt, or disturbed somehow. That was one good thing to come from the cabin being far from finished.

  She was, what…seventy-eight percent sur
e he was alive? Factoring in any injuries he might have sustained. The new vest he’d ordered and been wearing since he was stabbed in the chest. Well, that wasn’t totally true. He’d been wearing it since she told him she was pregnant. Not that their child made more of a difference than Pat, or even Aaron, but there was something in John that had changed with everything that had happened in Sanctuary and culminated in Nicholas’s life. John was no longer prepared to take chances

  Which meant that if he was alive, he was doing everything possible to return and save them.

  Andra looked up at the sky and watched the stars for a moment. The flashing lights of an aircraft interrupted her musings. The outline got bigger, the lights brighter. It circled, as though surveying the area. In the dark. From that high?

  Andra kept watch. The plane kept its steady course, and then she saw the first one. Another. Then another. Five total that she could see, descending into town under cover of darkness and making the stars wink out for a second as they flew through the sky.

  Parachutes.

  **

  “I won’t let you hurt any of these people.”

  The sheriff sneered at Dan’s words. “As if you can stop me?” He snorted. “That’s funny coming from the son of Bill Jones. Do you know how many people your father murdered? Massacres. People slit open from nose to navel just for the fun of it. He told me about it once, he did. The way blood runs out, warm. Seeping from a person the same way life bleeds from their eyes. I didn’t believe it until the first time I saw it for myself.” He paused. “And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you Daniel? He told me what you did to your mother.”

  Dan didn’t let his words penetrate. Instead, he glanced around the room. The sheriff’s men listened, waiting for instructions. Olympia watched the scene play out with her dish rag over her mouth. Mei was in the center of the room, still tied to that chair.

  The mayor strode through the kitchen, a satellite phone in his hand. “They aren’t happy.” He went directly to the sheriff’s side. “They want proof it’s been taken care of, and they want it by dawn.”