by Steven Bird
“So, the ambushes are used to acquire items to trade with the cartels?” Jessie asked as he began to see the big picture.
“Some of it was for the town. Some of it was for trade and payoffs,” T. R. replied. “The area around the town basically became a big spider web, and Peronne was the spider. But since he keeps the town on such a tight lockdown—for their own safety of course—the townspeople basically have no idea what’s going on outside their borders. Peronne then turned our local airport into a transportation hub for whatever the cartels wanted to move. He provided unimpeded access to the airport, as well as security for those coming and going while moving their goods. In return, the cartels left him alone and did not target him like they had his predecessors. They let him create a little kingdom for himself here in Fort Sumner, and he is always looking for ways to ensure his position by providing them with whatever material and physical support he can.”
“And the local citizens?” Jessie asked. “How do they fare in this new kingdom? From what I have seen, things seem a little tense.”
“They fare about as well as the peasants of tyrant kings of the past, I guess. They are all forced to contribute in one way or another. Whether it’s food production, labor, or entertainment for his men, everyone has to pay their fair share. Fair as he sees it, at least.”
Turning away in disgust, Jessie attempted to retain his composure. Confused with how to handle his prisoner, who seemed like a man who was simply caught up in an unfortunate situation, Jessie paced back and forth anxiously. “How do I deal with you?” he asked. “You lent your services to a traitor who enslaved your fellow man. Don’t give me that crap answer that you were just following orders, either.”
Hanging his head low, T. R. took a deep breath, and replied, “I... I don’t know. I’m not ashamed that I joined the police department. At the time, it was the right thing to do, or so I thought. But I am ashamed that I didn’t leave when I realized how things were going down.”
“Leave? Leave?” Jessie shouted. “You should have fought back, you coward! You should have taken a stand with your fellow man, not against your fellow man! There is no worse betrayal a man can do than to side against his neighbor and stand with tyranny. Over and over throughout history, tyrants have been empowered by cowards who either did nothing or just followed orders to make things easier for themselves. It’s easy to do that. It’s easy to follow orders and act as if you don’t have a choice. It’s hard to take a stand as a true patriot—to know that the first who stands up for freedom and what is right, will likely die. I would rather live a short life, having contributed to the freedom of those who follow me, than to live a long life feeling like a coward and a traitor.”
Storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him in disgust, Jessie left T. R. to his thoughts. Tears streaming down his face, T. R was overcome with emotion as Jessie’s words struck a massive blow to his heart.
Whispering through the tears, T. R. said, “Please, Lord, help me make this right.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jessie’s thoughts raced through his mind. He thought of the vehicles he had found east of town, and how the scene was eerily reminiscent of the scenario painted by T. R. Had the people who were ambushed on the road been lured into a trap set by Peronne? Were there children in the minivan, as it had appeared? Where are they now? All of those questions begged to be answered. The only thing Jessie was certain of was that he couldn’t live with himself if he simply moved on and let other unsuspecting travelers face the same fate. Desperation in this wretched new world would lead others to follow such false hopes. No, he just couldn’t let such a thing stand.
Turning to look at the small, isolated, and abandoned house where he had found shelter the previous night, Jessie walked back onto the porch and entered through the front door, where he found T. R. emotionally distraught, sobbing like a child.
Looking at T. R., Jessie said, “Are you thirsty?”
Nodding in the affirmative while trying to regain his composure, T. R. asked, “What can I do?”
“What do you mean?” Jessie replied as he retrieved his canteen from his saddle, which he had brought inside the previous night.
“You’re right. You’re right about everything,” he said, looking Jessie directly in the eye.
Reaching out to him with the canteen, Jessie helped T. R. take a sip of water from the container, as his hands were still tied securely behind his back.
Swallowing the water, T. R. cleared his throat and said, “What can I do to make things right? There is nowhere to turn to for help. It’s not like I can call and have the FBI arrive on the scene to deal with Peronne. It’s like the Wild West out here now. What no one sees, no one knows. As if there is anyone out there who would care, anyway. They’ve all got their own problems.”
Dragging a small, wooden desk across the room, Jessie placed it directly in front of T. R., put a pencil and scrap of paper in front of him, and then walked around behind him and began untying his hands. Pausing before releasing the knot, Jessie said, “You’re going to write down everything you know. You’re going to write down every asset they have at their disposal. You’re going to write down how many men they have. You’re going to write down their schedules and routines. Everything you can think of. And if you try to make a move that makes me question your intentions, you’ll die in that chair. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course,” T. R. replied.
His hands now free, T. R. rubbed his wrists, looked at Jessie, and took the pencil in hand. Walking around in front of T. R. in plain view, Jessie eased his Colt revolver out of his holster, flipped open the loading gate, half-cocked the hammer, and began to slowly and methodically rotate the cylinder, inspecting each cartridge as it turned.
Closing the loading gate and holstering his weapon, Jessie said, “Well, get started.”
Nodding in reply, T. R. began to write. Watching for a few moments as T. R. worked his way down the piece of paper, Jessie nudged the curtain slightly to the side and looked out in front of the house, just in time to see a dark figure rush by the window. As he reached for his Colt, the window shattered as bullets began to fly into the room. Diving toward T. R., Jessie shoved his chair backward, knocking him to the floor and removing him from the direct line of fire as wood fragments filled the air from the impact of bullets on the wall behind them.
As the gunfire from outside the home ceased, a voice shouted, “Did you think you were just going to walk away from it all, Robertson? From everything we’ve done for you? From everything you’ve done? From everything you know? I always knew you wouldn’t last, but I always thought you’d be weak and get yourself killed. I didn’t think we were gonna have to do it for you. But here we are. You know how it works. Come on out and we’ll let your friend with the horse live. If you make us come in and get you, we’ll kill you both.”
“They’re gonna kill us both, no matter what,” T. R. whispered to Jessie.
Lying on the floor next to him in a position of cover from the windows, Jessie reached over with his knife and cut T. R’s feet lose, and said, “If you double-cross me, I promise I’ll kill you, and I’ll take my time doing it.”
Nodding that he understood, T. R. pulled his legs off the chair and lay flat on the floor, saying, “Now what?”
“Keep them occupied for a moment,” Jessie whispered in reply as he began to look around the room for an idea.
Shouting toward the now broken window, T. R. said, “It’s not what it looks like, man. It’s the guy we’ve been looking for. The one that killed the crazy old-timer. I caught him. I had to hole up here for the night, but I was going to bring him back to the chief today.”
Looking back at Jessie, seeing his concerned and angry look, T. R. motioned to him in reassurance that he could trust him.
“Bull!” the man outside shouted. “Your tracks met up just over the hill from town. You came this way together.”
“No, I followed him here from where I saw him
on the ridge. I caught up with him just before he got to the house. You’ve got it all wrong, man.”
As the men outside paused to discuss what T. R. had said, Jessie found a door hidden among the planks in the old, wood floor. Prying it up with his knife, he saw that it gave access to a crawlspace below the house that had apparently been used to store canned food by the previous occupants of the home. Motioning for T. R. to continue trying to reason with them, Jessie slipped beneath the home, closing the door above him as he disappeared below.
Seeing light shine through a screened ventilation opening on each of the foundation walls beneath the home, illuminating the dust particles dancing around in the stale air beneath the house, Jessie crawled over to the block foundation wall that faced the man giving the orders outside. Unable to get a complete view of the threat due to the limited line of sight offered by the opening, Jessie scanned the area as best he could, assuming their attackers were positioned behind the shed next to the house.
Hearing the shuffling of boots on the opposite side of the house, Jessie crawled through the dirt and dust beneath the home, occasionally feeling the crunch of an insect hidden in the darkness beneath his elbows. Looking out the screened vent on the back wall, he found a man dressed in the same tactical gear as T. R. standing just above the opening, his lower legs and dusty black books being the only thing visible from Jessie’s vantage point.
In a static-filled and nearly unintelligible hand-held radio transmission, Jessie heard the words, “Take them out.”
The man quietly replied that he understood by keying the mic twice.
Knowing that T. R. was in the room above, unarmed and alone, Jessie angled his rifle up toward the man with his stock held firmly against the ground, slowly pulling the trigger as the powerful .308 round discharged, nearly deafening Jessie as the shot was fired in the small, enclosed crawlspace. Disoriented from the intense ringing in his ears, Jessie saw the man writhing on the ground in pain with his hands on his groin as blood gushed from his body, his movements soon coming to a stop as his he bled out from his severe wound.
Gunfire now erupting from the opposite side of the house, tearing wildly into the wooden wall above the foundation, Jessie scurried back to the far wall, trying his best to get a view of the shooter. Seeing a muzzle flash coming from just around the corner of the shed, just out of sight, Jessie estimated the position of the shooter and began emptying the remaining contents of his twenty-round magazine into the flimsy structure. His bombardment of the thin walls of the shed with his powerful .308 rounds repeatedly penetrated the building, bringing the attack to an end. Scanning the area intently as the dust settled, he could see the barrel of an AR-15-style rifle on the ground, barely visible from around the corner of the structure where the shooter lay dead.
Cover and concealment are two different things there, officer, Jessie thought. Pausing for a moment, he attempted to listen for more movement as he quickly realized his attempts were futile as the shots fired from the enclosed space had left his eardrums throbbing with sharp, intense pain. Crawling back over to the crawlspace access door, Jessie forcefully pushed the door open and scanned the room with his rifle. Seeing only T. R., lying with his back to the far wall, behind the desk that he had positioned in front of him for cover, Jessie lowered his rifle and relaxed.
“You okay?” Jessie asked as he worked his jaw, attempting to alleviate some of the pain in his ears.
“Yeah... yeah, I'm all right,” T. R. replied.
“Do you think there were more than two?”
“No. No, that’s probably it. Unless it’s a pretty big operation, the chief doesn’t like to spread his resources too thin back in town. If they were just coming after me, two is all I would have imagined he would send. We’ve got to get out of here, though. They run a pretty tight ship and will notice when these two don’t return when expected. That’ll send up a red flag for sure. Chief Peronne will send more next time. If he feels like there is a chink in his armor, he’ll deal with it swiftly.”
“Yep, I imagine so,” Jessie said as he looked out the window in the direction of town. “Let’s get what we can from your friends and get the hell out of here.”
Chapter Fourteen
Having stripped their attackers of their AR-15 patrol rifles, several loaded magazines of 5.56 NATO, two Smith & Wesson M&P .40 pistols, and two duty-belt-carried radios, Jessie looked at T. R., and said, “If you want to get to your family up north, you’d better get going. Take with you what you want for the journey. I can’t carry all of this, anyway. I just want to get it out of their hands and stash the extra somewhere in the event I need to come back for it.”
Looking down at the ground, pausing for a moment, T. R. responded, “I’ll go, but not yet. If I continue running away from the things I’ve done, the things I’ve been associated with, it will always haunt me. It will always be there. Even if I am lucky enough to simply blend back into my family as if it never happened... I... I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself. No, I need to do what I can to make things right before I go. I need to get rid of my old life before I try to start a new one. I’m staying with you.”
“I didn’t ask you to stay on with me,” Jessie replied sharply. “Quite frankly, I’m not sure I want or need your help. You want to make things right? I respect that, but if you couldn’t get past me, you probably can’t get past them. You’d be a liability to me.”
“No. No, that’s not true,” T. R. protested. “I can help. I know a few people in town who can help. There are a few good men that, if given the chance, I am certain would stand up to Peronne and his men.”
“But you are one of Peronne’s men. How would you know, what those you have helped to oppress, are willing and able to do?”
“Before I started working for the police—before I knew Peronne’s real goals—I had a few close friends in town. Jack McGuigan was one. He and I were shooting buddies before... uh, before I joined the police department. After that, he just faded away as if he had no interest in me anymore. Then, once I realized what I had gotten into, I understood. But anyway, he is a real stand-up guy. Chief Peronne banned the private ownership of guns...”
“Like every good dictator,” Jessie interrupted.
“Yeah, exactly. For the safety of the citizens, of course. As I was saying, Jack turned in a few rifles and pistols, but I knew he had more. I knew he must have squirreled a few things away, somewhere we couldn’t find them when we searched his home.”
“Wait, hold on...” Jessie said, holding his hand in the air to stop T. R. from continuing. “You mean to tell me that you were one of the officers who searched your former friend’s home to confiscate his weapons?”
In a deflated tone, T. R. nodded and said, “Yes. Yes, I was.”
“Peronne isn’t the only treasonous scumbag in town,” Jessie said with disgust in his voice. “And before you say it, I know, I know. You were just following orders,” he said as he shook his head. “And now, you think a goose-stepping NAZI who ‘was just following orders,' such as yourself who betrayed his friend, can just walk in there and convince him you’re one of the good guys now? Hell, if he has half a brain, he’ll think you’re just setting him up on behalf of your former boss. I’d never trust you again. Hell, I’m not sure I can trust you now. I’ll let you in on something,” Jessie said as he squared off on T. R. with a hate-filled look in his eyes. “In my previous life, I was a sheriff before it all went down. I took that job very seriously. I took my oath very seriously. I would have gladly given my life for anyone in my county. You have no idea how badly I want to just kill you right now and move on with this on my own. What you’ve done, what a snake like Peronne has conned you into doing, is nothing less than a complete betrayal of your oath, and a complete betrayal of your fellow man. In America, at least as it was intended to be, the power is derived from the people. The people gave the government the right to enforce the laws that the people, through their representatives, put on the books. To take the r
ole of a servant of the people and turn it into the role of a tyrant over the people, disgusts me beyond belief.”
Shaking his head and waving his hands in protest, T. R. replied, “Trust me, I see your point clearly. I agree with every word you’ve said, but I can’t turn back time. I can’t undo what I’ve done or remake the decisions that led me to where I am right now. But if you want to do something about this, you can’t do it alone. This is all we’ve got. We can’t take down Peronne without help from inside the town. He’s got an army, and most of them are all-in. They thrive in this new world, being the predators instead of the protectors.”
“Is there anyone else within the department you can trust?” Jessie asked.
“Not really. It seemed that every time someone developed a conscious, they were the next one to have an accident.”
Looking off into the distance, Jessie paused for a moment and said, “Don’t give me a reason to regret this. You’ll end up like your buddies over there,” he said, motioning with his head in the direction of the dead officers. “The only thing that keeps me going in this world is a glimmer of hope, a faint little glimmer of hope that my future may bring. A hope that I know, deep down inside, is likely never going to come to fruition. But I keep going. I keep pressing on each day in search of that one thing. I’ve lost everything in this God-forsaken world. Don’t you, for one second, make the mistake of thinking that I will allow myself to be double-crossed.”