A two-group patrol was dispatched; one south and one east of Gold Nugget. A was the standard operating method a pickup truck accompanied each group for a quicker ride back to Fitch, and the gyro-copter was used to scout ahead to avoid sneak attacks.
“What d’ya think, Major? Are we gonna see any action on this trip out?”
Will Clark, a young man of twenty-three, was looking forward to a fight.
Randy was a veteran Army Ranger who had seen his fair share of battle in the Middle East, and he wasn’t quite as enthusiastic. But he did long for a time when he could live without fear of his family being attacked or harmed by these bandits. He started to respond when he saw the gyro-copter coming back toward them.
“Hold on, Will. Let’s see what he’s found.”
They rode to the spot where the gyro-copter was landing.
Major Stewart approached the pilot.
“Anything happening, Jeff?”
Jeff Streeter looked up at the major,
“There’s an attack going on right now! There, about three more miles in that direction.”
He turned and pointed.
“I’ll lead you to them and then turn away. They’ll know we’re coming if they see me circling overhead. I’ll fly back out away from them about half a mile and land. You boys be careful.”
Jeff crawled back into the machine and started it up while Randy and his men moved out in the direction Jeff pointed toward. They trotted in a synchronized unit as the gyro-copter climbed straight ahead. The horsemen followed. There was no reason to race their horses from this far away.
Eventually Randy saw the gyro-copter turn, circle back toward them, turn away, and then land. Randy shouted orders to his men.
“Get that wagon over there and unload the machine gun! As soon as they are ready to fire, the rest of you—Charge!”
The dust flew in a large heavy brown ball, following the horses and riders as they took off toward the bikers, who were firing at a small band of survivors. The pickup that was with them speeded past the horses, pulled off to one side of the riders and stopped. The driver got out and took aim with his rifle. If any of them tried to escape in his direction, he would be able to pick them off.
The band of raiders had no idea there were armed men coming after them. By the time they were under fire from the Rangers, there wasn’t much they could do except fire back or surrender. There were ten of them, altogether. One was wounded at the onset, and out of the fight. He held a rag to his shoulder to try to stop the bleeding from the bullet wound.
The horsemen got within three-hundred feet of the outlaws, dismounted, took cover, and continued firing at the raiders. The bikers knew they were outnumbered and decided to surrender. One stood up, his arms in the air and was shot dead before anyone realized they were surrendering.
Randy yelled at his men.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!”
The firing stopped immediately. Randy and several others mounted their horses and trotted toward the slavers. When they were a little closer, Randy yelled again,
“Drop your weapons now or die.”
The bandits did as they were told and dropped their weapons. Randy sent his men toward the compound with the white flag to show the conflict was ended. As he approached the compound, he found one dead woman and two dead children in the dirt about twenty yards from the gate. They had been the initial casualties of the raid. They were cut down as they ran for safety.
“We are the Militia formed by Governor Bob Waters and Admiral Mike Reynolds. We’ve come to your aid. I’m deeply sorry for your losses, but you’re safe now! We got here as quick as we could.”
Randy lined the raiders up in front of his men.
“You boys haven’t been behaving. We took your leaders word that you were all going to quit the raiding. Now we see exactly what your word means. Are there any of you under the age of eighteen?”
“Naw, we don’t have no kids with us. We’re all over eighteen. Are you going to arrest us or something?”
“No, friend; we’re going to hang you for murder and attempted robbery.”
By this time the people from the compound were filing out. One woman was crying uncontrollably. She was on her knees and had scooped up the dead child. She held him to her breast and wailed uncontrollably. The raiders had just shot her son. She came to one of the Militia members side, fell to her knees and clung to his leg; begging them to help her son.
The medic walked over to the three bodies, examined them, and shook his head. They were all dead. The woman still insisted they help. She was beside herself with grief. One of the men from her group came over and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He held her as she wailed inconsolably. It was heart wrenching to hear her shriek.
“What are you going to do to these bastards?”
It appeared to be the compound leader.
“We’re going to hang them! And every time we catch any of these people doing what they did here today, they’ll get the same thing. Jones, bring me ten horses and ten ropes.”
One of the bikers shrieked,
“Aren’t we gonna get a trial first?”
“You boys put your own necks in a noose when you decided to raid this place and kill these people. You showed them no mercy, and you’ll get none from us. We are the Militia and we caught you red-handed. We find you guilty. You will be hung immediately.”
Several of the Militiamen lashed the hands of the bikers behind their backs. The bandits were mounted on Militia horses and a rope was tied into a noose, placed over their heads, and snugged tight around their necks.
“If any of you have anything to say, now is your opportunity for last words. If you want to pray, do it now.”
Randy stood in front of the men and waited to hear what any of them had to say.
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a reprieve here?”
“None at all. Anything else?”
A horse snorted as the tension in the air hung like a fog on a damp night. One of the horses stomped its foot causing a multitude of flies to take flight. The bothersome insects pestered them all, both horses and men. Randy Stewart spoke in a soft voice but loud enough to be heard by all of those in attendance,
“It isn’t with any particular pleasure I do this. We are always reluctant to take a life. Once the alternatives have been breached by people who scoff at the law, as you have done, and who plunder innocent people, we are left with no other choices. You men have been caught in the act of plundering and in some cases killing people who barely have the means to protect themselves. You all acted together and so you’re all guilty and will die together. You have heard the witnesses point you out and tell their stories. It isn’t the Militia that is hanging you today, it is you who have put your own necks in the noose. Any of you have any last words?”
He looked into the faces of each man and waited for a response from them. Nobody said anything. One of the condemned moaned and was crying softly.
“In that case,”
His voice resonated with displeasure,
“May God have mercy on your souls.”
He nodded his head and the men seated on horseback alongside those to be hanged, watching for the signal, coaxed their horses forward with a gentle kick to the flanks, their heels signaling their animals to walk forward. Ten men slid off of the horses they were mounted on and swung freely by their necks. The branches creaked and some of the leaves were shaken loose. A few of the condemned shook and moved involuntarily as the life slowly choked out of their bodies. It was done. More of the outlaws were now relegated to death, and no more violence would come from them. The Militiamen stood there for another half-hour before moving away from the scene. As always, the bodies would be left there for others to see when passing here to give assurances these ten men would not harm them any longer. The victims stood under a large shade tree about twenty-five feet away and watched as those who had terrorized them died an agonizing death. Some of them smiled in satisfaction whil
e others simply turned their heads away and did not watch.
It was a largely mutual consensus that these people would not get a decent burial. They didn’t deserve one. Most people were harboring hard feelings toward these criminals. So, they were left there to rot and be food for feral animals, the pecking of birds and myriad insects. No one had any sympathy for them. Their thoughts were, “a dead outlaw is a good outlaw.”
Randy took the gold watch from his pocket and noted the time. They stayed there and waited. He said after the allotted half-hour had passed,
“We need to be going Rangers, it’s time to put this patrol to rest.”
Randy shouted orders.
“Make a sign that says thieves and murderers and secure it to one of the bodies.”
He turned to the compound leader,
“You can take them down and bury them when and if you feel so inclined. Otherwise, let them hang as a reminder to would be thugs. One of my men will leave you with a radio set to a frequency you can use in the future, should any more assistance be required.”
He nudged his boots into the flanks of his mount and pulled the reins toward one side of its neck. The horse turned and trotted away toward Fitch. The Militiamen followed their leader at a trot as a cloud of dust lingered behind the contingent and hovered in place momentarily.
◆◆◆
“They did what?”
Slasher was livid. He knew a couple of the bandits personally. What he didn’t know was that they had been out freelancing.
“What was it they called themselves?”
The new chief of police, ironically known as Killer, was breathless.
“The Militia. They have some hefty firepower behind them. Rumor is that they will immediately hang anyone above the age of eighteen if they catch them in the act of stealing, raping or murdering. Any of those and it’s a rope on the nearest tree.”
“Those farmers are getting serious about stopping the pillaging of the settlers. We’d better be careful what we do from now on. We’re safe in our own town. We’ve managed to stay disassociated. Especially since I know they are keeping a close eye on us. But out there—”
He was looking out the window of his office.
“—Out there, we’re on our own. We have to do something drastic, and soon. We’re running low on food, and it’s causing people to leave Gold Nugget.
“Who’s taking care of my chickens and the other animals they gave us at the meeting?”
“What chickens? What animals?”
Slasher looked at the man and screamed at him, his face flushing bright red!
“Those farmers gave me a bunch of chickens, a couple of hogs, a calf and some other animals; a whole pickup full of planting seeds. Where is all that stuff?!”
“The chickens are all gone since the first night back, and the rest of those critters is what we’ve been eating the last few nights. Where do you think all the food we’ve been eating came from? Most of us have been eating off those stores we had gathered with Bone Breaker. That stash is dwindling quickly.”
Slasher was stunned to hear this. Where were they going to get enough food to survive?
This could quickly become a desperate situation for all of them, and he saw his plan unraveling.
“Chief, let’s face it,”
Killer was dead serious.
“We need to make a raid. There’s a place south of here; it’s one of those large warehouse type stores that sell everything including food. From what I’m told it holds a ton of food and all kinds of household stuff. We need to hit it hard and fast. Bone Breaker and I talked about it sometime back, but we got sidetracked.”
Slasher realized in that moment that his mind was racing,
“Get about twenty of the men together and we’ll move out after dark. I think we can camp a few miles away and take them by surprise first thing in the morning. Once the raid is over, we’ll hot-foot it back here. We won’t know anything about it if anyone comes around asking any questions, you got it? Any traces of evidence will be burned. Is that big truck still running? The one we took at the fish warehouse south of Eureka?”
“Yeah, it’s in running condition.”
“Is there fuel in it?”
“Yeah! Lots of gas.”
“Good! We’ll take that and fill it up with food. I want every pickup truck we have to go as well so we can load them all up. If any of the pickups are low on fuel, we can transfer a little from each one until they’re equal. We should be able to be back here by noon. That will solve our food problem for a little while. Get everyone ready. Grab a few boys from the outskirts and have them house-sit for us. Tell him to light candles, move around, open and shut doors and windows—anything that will make it look like we’re all still here and it’s business as usual. It’ll be our alibi. Nobody that comes around will be able to prove anything.”
The chief of police hurried out the door. Slasher was thinking to himself about this Militia and the men those farmers had set loose on his people.
“So, they’re going to hang us huh?”
He said it to no one as he stared out the window,
“Well, we gotta do what we gotta do. This boy will straighten things out. It won’t be a problem once we get some food and we can think on a full stomach.”
◆◆◆
“The whole warehouse was hit and ransacked?”
Mike was trying to piece the facts together.
“Were there any casualties?”
“Yes, Sir,”
Ernest Bromley, an ex-Army Intelligence retired soldier was the new intel lead and had come to deliver the news personally to Mike.
“There were ten men and two women killed in the raid. It happened earlier today, and they were discovered by one of our people who was going to pick up supplies.”
“Do we know who it was?”
“No, Sir. Not for certain. But you and I know who did it.”
Mike snapped at the man.
“I don’t want suppositions! I want hard evidence. We can’t be guessing, and we need to know for certain. I’m going there in the morning to see for myself. I want a half-dozen men to go with me in case they come back for something they forgot. In the meantime, send twenty-five men there with plenty of rifles and ammo and guard it until we can get there. Tell them not to touch anything; it’s officially a crime scene. Ask Beth Kelly to come along as well. We’ll need her experience as an investigator.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Ernest turned and left, jotting down a note as he went.
◆◆◆
It was a big warehouse-type store, much like the one at Fitch, but with a different name. This one was once called Red Man. It sold everything; including furniture, tools, firearms and, of course, food. Two tractor-trailers were still parked in the loading area at the back of the store. Mike found two men who could drive the big rigs and once the crew and the drivers arrived, they loaded them up, mostly with food.
“We will make as many trips as we can until we empty the store. This stuff isn’t doing anyone any good just sitting there gathering dust. It looks like it’s been ransacked a couple of times already, but we can distribute what’s left to a lot of people at Avalon and Fitch. We’ll have an armed escort, with us after the first trip.”
◆◆◆
Beth looked at the bodies. One of the men had been carrying a white flag. He was shot at point-blank range. She surmised he probably thought they could talk their way out of it, and when he approached the raiders carrying the white flag, he was gunned down. The others with him were murdered as well, some apparently while kneeling based on the trajectory of the shots to the back of their heads.
Beth continued looking around for anything the killers may have left behind. There weren’t even any spent cartridge shells. It was simply murder for the food and supplies. They looted from here, and then the place was cleaned, not likely to leave a trail leading to the thieves. That would also explain why they didn’t steal the tractor-trailers in the bac
k. It would be hard to hide something like that.
Mike came over to Beth,
“Anything of significance?”
“Just this.”
She showed him a button from a coat, or perhaps from a shirt.
“One of the victims was clutching it in his hand. It is fairly unique, and given the ripped threads hanging from the button holes, I’m guessing it came off of one of the killers. I’ll keep a tag on it; maybe it’ll come in handy.”
"Okay people; let’s roll. Jimmy, Mark, Anthony, and Bill, you stay here. We’ll leave you with enough ammo to fend off an army. We’ll come back tomorrow morning for another load.”
The two tractor-trailers pulled out, accompanied by Mike and the others.
◆◆◆
Slasher listened to his man speak. He had left Billy Sparkman to stick around, hidden in a tree line about a half-mile away from the warehouse to keep an eye on things with binoculars. If the coast stayed clear, Slasher was hoping for the opportunity for a second haul. Billy had come back early. He was recounting how the Fitch people had come to the big store and hauled a bunch of things away with a couple of the tractor-trailers from out behind the store.
So, they can empty out the store, but we can’t. Even the thought of it pissed him off. When we do it, it’s stealing. What is it called when they do the same thing? Hypocrites!
“I saw them leave a couple of people there to guard the place. Going back wouldn’t be a good idea right now, which is why I figured I should come back and tell you right away. I didn’t want you riding up on them and getting caught.”
He paused and swallowed.
“I hope you’re not mad, boss? Me leaving my post and all... I mean…”
Slasher simply kept looking at the man, or rather through him, as he considered what his next move should be. Only then did he realize that last statement was meant for him.
“Nah, Billy. You did the right thing. They’ll be on the lookout. If we had tried for a second run…well... We aren’t ready for that just yet.”
Billy exhaled a long sigh of relief.
“We’re going to have to get better organized.”
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