by Lopez, Rob
The commander scratched his nose. “If you saw a truck with armed personnel, the chances are you saw a militia patrol. You should be used to that by now.”
“They didn’t have arm bands.”
“Probably a lapse. I’ll send an order around to make sure everyone has the correct uniform.”
“The guy driving the truck was Fat Danny. Is he in your militia now?”
“Never heard of him.”
“Well, he’s driving around, illegally armed.”
“I haven’t had any sightings of that nature.”
“I’m reporting one now.”
“I’ll tell our patrols to be extra vigilant.”
“Is that all?”
“Don’t worry about it. You can leave. I’ve got a meeting I have to attend.”
“Commander, all I’m asking is that you send a patrol in now to catch these guys. I’ll even accompany them if they need help seeing them.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Seems to me it is.”
“Goodbye, Sheriff.”
Eagleburger caught sight of movement in the adjoining office, which appeared to be the commander’s quarters now, with a bunk in place of a desk. There was also a woman in her underwear, no doubt the object of his next so-called meeting. Eagleburger turned and caught sight of an anguished face that quickly disappeared.
It looked to be Ione. He took a step toward the office, but the commander jumped up and blocked his way, shutting the door.
“You can go now,” he said firmly.
Eagleburger had been forced to leave his sidearm at the checkpoint. The commander was armed, as was the guard just outside. Impotent, he faced up to the commander, who, like Fick, looked more than willing to fight the sheriff.
“So you don’t know who Fat Danny is?” said Eagleburger.
“No clue,” said the commander, looking him right in the eye.
“You’re a liar.”
“You can walk out, or I can bounce you out.”
Reluctantly, Eagleburger turned and left.
Out in the compound yard, mechanics winched an alternative engine and gearbox into the bay of a Humvee. Another Humvee, already converted, sat alongside, a machine gun being clamped to the mounting on its cupola. Squads of Red Bands jogged in unison, doing PT around the compound. Eagleburger felt very small.
Disconsolate, he made his way back through the city. Nearing the government zone, he encountered Moresby. Moresby had been the County Director before the arrival of Jeffries, and was another face Eagleburger hadn’t seen in a while.
“You’re a hard man to track down, Sheriff,” said Moresby.
“I get around,” said Eagleburger, though he wasn’t sure he’d continue to do that anymore. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” said Moresby, though Eagleburger thought he looked a little careworn. “Yourself?”
“Not so good,” said Eagleburger with a sigh.
“I daresay it’s tough being sheriff.”
Eagleburger paused. “Actually, I don’t think I’ll be sheriff much longer.”
“Are you serious?”
“Thinking of quitting.”
Moresby moved in close. “Don’t,” he murmured earnestly.
“Doesn’t seem to be a lot of point to my job.”
“We need you there,” said Moresby, lowering his voice even further.
Eagleburger was taken aback. “Who’s ‘we’?”
Moresby cast a glance about the street. “Meet me,” he said. “Tonight.”
“What for?”
“Just do it,” implored Moresby, “and make sure you’re not followed.”
20
Eagleburger disliked conspiracy. It was dishonest. He liked even less the idea of traveling in the dark to a secret meeting in the northern suburbs of the city. After being ousted from government, Moresby had returned to what was left of his home on the shores of Beaver Lake where a handful of communities subsisted, in spite of the diminutive waterscape being completely fished out.
Eagleburger didn’t bother making sure he was not followed. The idea that anyone would follow him in the dark through the hilly suburbs seemed absurd. He couldn’t get anyone in authority to pay attention to him at the best of times. It didn’t seem likely they’d concern themselves now.
The directions he’d received were vague, and he had to knock on five doors before having Moresby’s house pointed out to him. When he got to the right home, Moresby ushered him in, closing the door hastily behind him. The house had been stripped bare, most of the furniture ending up as firewood. Moresby kept what little he had in the kitchen, which he’d converted into his sole living space, with table, chairs and mattress. Eagleburger was surprised to see what Moresby had been reduced to.
He was even more surprised to see Corporal Parson sitting at the kitchen table.
“Hi, Sheriff,” said Parson, his M4 lying before him on the table. “Been a long time.”
Eagleburger paused at the door. “What is this?” he said.
Moresby sat himself down next to Parson. “It’s just a talk,” said Moresby. “Sit down.”
Eagleburger took the only remaining chair, sitting opposite the two men. The setup felt suspiciously like an interview to him.
“How’s things?” began Moresby.
“Swell,” said Eagleburger cautiously.
“You keeping well?”
“As best I can.”
Eagleburger looked at Parson, who watched him intently but said nothing.
“How do you think things are going?” asked Moresby.
“For who?”
“For the city.”
“You’ve seen how things are.”
Moresby narrowed his eyes. “I’m not able to see things from the inside like you. I’m interested in your assessment.”
“Why?”
“I’m curious, that’s why. It’s a simple question.”
Eagleburger shifted in his seat. “Looks exactly the same from the inside as it does from the outside, Moresby. What is it you want?”
“Your opinion.”
“But why?”
Moresby and Parson exchanged glances.
“We just wanted to know how you feel about things,” said Moresby.
Eagleburger stared at them both for a moment, then stood up, scraping the chair back. “Sorry fellas. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired and hungry. It’s good to see you again, but I’ve got better things I can be doing. Like sleeping, for instance.”
“Wait,” said Moresby, jumping up. “Give us a chance.”
Eagleburger turned on him. “For what?”
“To talk, dammit.”
“I been sitting here and you ain’t said nothing worth my time. You want to talk about the weather now? Maybe you got some gossip about ol’ Miss. Jones at Tender Creek and her cats. Well, sorry, but I ain’t got neither the time nor the inclination to listen to garbage like that. If you want to tell me something, Moresby, you just come right out and say it.”
Moresby looked dismayed, but Parson started to laugh. “Sit down, Sheriff,” he said, “and we’ll be straight with you.”
Eagleburger remained standing.
“Alright,” said Parson. “I understand how it is. But hear me out.”
Parson idly tapped the stock of the M4.
“We just need to know,” he said, “whose side you’re on.”
“What kind of damn fool question is that?” said Eagleburger.
Parson slowly laid his hand on the grip of the rifle, keeping his finger clear of the trigger.
“I’m going to be straight with you,” he said.
Eagleburger watched the gun warily, casually dropping his hand to his side, closer to his revolver. “Go on,” he said.
“You and I worked together through some tough times. The three of us, in fact. We saw a lot of tragedy. But we also saw a lot of good folks trying to get by. We did our best.”
“Uh huh.”
&nb
sp; “Then Connors arrived, and I can tell you he’s a smooth talking son-of-a-bitch. He’s also ruthless. I’ve seen him talk whole towns into surrendering to him. But I’ve also seen him butcher small groups.” Parson shrugged. “Just because. Everyone’s a pawn to him. Even that dumbass, Jeffries. I’ve watched him tighten his control of everything, and I’ve watched as good communities turned into ghettos. Do you know about the meth?”
Eagleburger nodded.
“Connors introduced that. He controls the production and supply. He’s a crime lord. That’s who we’ve got running our town. And he’s got everything sewed up tight so that nobody can make a move.”
“And what kind of move would … someone want to make?”
“There’s a lot of someones,” said Parson cryptically.
“Maybe someone ought to enlighten our governor,” said Eagleburger slowly.
“I did. On one of the rare occasions I managed to get seen by him, I told him about Connors and the drug dealing. And nothing happened. Except now, I’ve got Taft and Leon breathing down my neck, wanting to know where I’ve been and what I’ve done. So I’m sure you’ll understand that, as far as this meeting is concerned, it didn’t happen and I wasn’t here.”
Eagleburger processed what he’d just heard. “How’d it get like this?” he asked.
“It got like this because he arrived with an army,” said Moresby bitterly.
“It was more than that,” said Parson. “He arrived with legitimacy. And like good people, we followed the rules.”
“But not any more,” said Moresby.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Eagleburger. “What are you thinking?”
“What do you think?”
“Will somebody just tell me what the hell you’re planning here?”
“We’re not planning anything,” said Parson unconvincingly.
“Are you going to keep your hand on that gun the whole time?”
Parson chose his words carefully. “I need to know,” he said, “where you stand in all this.”
“I ain’t standing anywhere. I quit.”
“Why?”
“You already know why. The city’s turning into a hellhole. We’re under martial law and there’s nothing I can do about it. Your own goddamn militia is kidnapping women and turning them into prostitutes. People are skipping town and I don’t blame them. I’m going too.”
Parson relaxed his grip on the rifle and pulled his hand back. “What if I told you there was a chance to get our town back?”
“I’d say you’ve been drinking too much.”
Parson smiled to himself. “Yeah, I’d have said the same.” He leaned back and studied the sheriff. “How badly would you like to bring down Connors and Jeffries?”
“You’re thinking of an uprising.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to turn your militia on them.”
“No,” said Parson. “At least, not that easily. You see, I don’t control the militia. Connors made sure of that. I’m in command of a single platoon at Old Fort. The rest are scattered, and I can’t say where their loyalties lie, but if my own guys are anything to go by, they’re not happy. A lot of guys are deserting, but Connors is still strong, because he’s got a new militia.”
“The Red Bands.”
“That’s right. Between them and Connors’ Special Forces guys, we’re outclassed, even if we do have the numbers. We need someone good enough to go up against them. Someone who can unite the people and who understands tactics.”
Eagleburger stared blankly at Parson. “I hope you’re not thinking of me.”
Parson chuckled. “I wasn’t thinking of you. Nor me. And certainly not Moresby here. No, I’m thinking of Rick Nolan.”
“The outlaw?”
Moresby chipped in. “I told you we weren’t going to play by the rules.”
“Nolan’s name is on everybody’s lips,” said Parson.
“Well, sure. He left the people without water.”
“And they’re not angry with him. They’re inspired by the first guy who’s managed to strike back.”
Eagleburger frowned. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, but I ain’t heard nobody praising him. All they want is their water back.”
“They want more than that, and I think you understand that better than I do. But I also know that Connors is afraid of Nolan.”
“He’s just a guy with a couple of yahoos in the mountains.”
“Exactly, and yet Connors takes him very seriously. I hear that Nolan served under Connors at one time. They know each other well. I think Nolan’s our best chance of getting rid of Connors.”
“And do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“But we know where his wife is,” added Moresby. “You’ve got her in your cell.”
Eagleburger still hadn’t put two and two together. “She’s there on a murder charge.”
“That weren’t no murder,” said Parson with disgust. “I knew Barbara and her cronies. I knew exactly what they were like. There is just no way I would call them stellar witnesses. Open your eyes, Sheriff. Connors cooked up that charge to get back at her husband. I told you, it’s all pawns in a game.”
Eagleburger recalled Lauren’s impassioned speech at the trial.
“You can talk to her,” said Moresby. “Get her to trust you.”
“Why would I want to do that?” said Eagleburger.
Parson grew exasperated with Eagleburger’s inability to piece together the hints. “Because we want to get her out,” he said. “If we can help Nolan get his wife back, maybe he can help us.”
Eagleburger stared at them both.
“Do you think you can do it?” pressed Parson.
Overwhelmed, Eagleburger had to sit down. “Do you realize what you’re asking me to do?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve got support in place,” said Moresby. “I’ve been in touch with Jim Fairbanks at Black Mountain. He’s on our side. If we smuggle Nolan’s wife out, he can help us.”
“We think that the only reason Nolan hasn’t attacked Asheville directly,” said Parson, “is because he doesn’t want to risk harming his wife. If we can get her out, it clears the way for him to come out of hiding. Organize enough allies from within and we can take back our town.”
“You’re both crazy,” said Eagleburger. “The courthouse is surrounded by security. There’s a goddamn machine gun nest outside the door. And if that don’t get me, the snipers will. How in heaven’s name do you think I can get her out, and what makes you think it’ll do any good? Connors has a hardcore force just outside the city, and this Nolan guy can’t be that strong. I’m sorry, it don’t matter how you cut it, but you can’t maintain a big force in the mountains without everyone knowing about it. Ain’t no way you can take back the town with some rag-tag guerrillas and a couple of cheerleaders in the burbs. It’s too ambitious, and if you’re dumb enough to believe it, it can get you killed, not to mention all the innocents who’ll be caught in the middle.”
Parson scratched his bristly chin. “What do you think is happening to the innocents now?”
“That’s not the same.”
“Doesn’t it burn you just thinking about it?”
“There’s a lot I ain’t happy with, but your idea’s too extreme.”
“And how willing are you to see Nolan’s wife hang now, while real criminals are running the town?”
Eagleburger fell silent.
Parson stood up and shouldered his rifle. “Sooner or later, Sheriff, you’re going to have to make a choice. I never said it would be easy. I spent a good while searching my conscience. I think you ought to do the same.”
*
Packy drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel of the Road Runner. When he stopped, his ears filled immediately with the sound of crickets.
He drummed his fingers again, and the crickets stopped. Ceased drumming, and the crickets started again.
&nb
sp; With an effort, he peeled his fingers off the wheel and tried to keep them still, but the tension was enough to crack his knuckles. Grabbing his Mac-10, he got out of the car and walked through the trees until he reached the road.
He was near Black Mountain, hidden in the low hills south of the interstate. He’d coasted down through the hairpin bends of Highway 9, his engine a low rumble, until he reached a crest overlooking the first abandoned homes of the town. Pretty much everything south of the interstate had been abandoned, as it wasn’t easy to defend, but Packy still worried about patrols. Dee had gone off confident that they wouldn’t bother a woman with a baby. Packy worried anyway.
He wasn’t used to worrying, he’d never been a worrying kind of guy, and wondered how people coped with this emotion through most of their life. It was enough to drive a man insane.
He fidgeted with his submachine gun, cracked his head on a branch when he lifted his head to get a better look down the shiny ribbon of asphalt in the darkness, sat down on something sharp that caused him to jump up again, and toyed with the idea of murdering crickets by the handful. Without even a cigarette, he didn’t know what to do with himself in the long hours it took for Dee to get back.
He was on the verge of hanging himself when Dee’s silhouette appeared on the road. He scampered down to greet her.
“Everything okay?” he said anxiously.
“Yes,” said Dee.
“You didn’t get stopped by any of those creeps or nothing?”
“No.”
“And you got the intel?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, let’s get out of here.”
Packy steered her up the slope toward the car.
“Sonita’s fine, by the way,” said Dee. “Thank you for asking.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Packy ushered her in, quietly closed her door, then tiptoed around to the driver’s side. It wasn’t until he started the engine that his apprehension eased.
He’d fitted a pair of triple stage mufflers to the Road Runner, and while he felt they strangled the power a little, they were definitely quieter. Easing out of the trees, he joined the road and climbed up the switchbacks, keeping the revs low and the lights off. Once he was far enough away from Black Mountain, he turned off Highway 9 and onto a series of old moonshiner roads that ran along the foothills, opening up the throttle and turning on the lights. He felt confident now and wasn’t too worried about the risk. He stayed conspicuous on the southern roads until he’d driven around Marion, then went dark and quiet for his run up to the Blue Ridge Parkway, circling back and taking a side road down through the valleys until he reached the Newberry Creek fork. At this point, the road ended, turning into a bumpy dirt track that ran alongside the creek. Packy took the Road Runner as far as it was advisable to go, scraping the bottom of the car on the uneven ground, then pulled into a cleared hiding place. Switching the engine off, he got out and dragged a tarp and branches into place to hide the vehicle. He stopped to listen to see if any pursuers were searching for him in the valleys, but the silence was total.