Ultraviolent: Book Six in The Mad Mick Series

by Franklin Horton

  Valeria looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry about that."

  "Don't be," Ricardo said quickly. "You saved my ass. Sure, the phone was an important tool, but that was a pretty chaotic situation. I probably dropped my phones and they ended up on the floor or on the ground somewhere. You have nothing to apologize for."

  Valeria nodded. "So you're just trying to make contact with him?"

  Banks took a seat on a large rock that had been left by the chopper pad. It looked decorative but also served to keep idiots from parking vehicles in the landing zone. "The rumor is that Conor's mission wasn't successful. It also took an unexpected turn that left him in the Middle East instead of on American soil. No one knows if he made it back to the U.S. or if he even survived."

  "I'm hoping there might be a clue at his compound," Ricardo said. "I have no idea what we'll find."

  Valeria squinted against the sun. "Have you been there before?"

  "I have. He had some other folks living there at the time. If they're still there, they might be able to tell us something."

  Banks cocked his head. "Incoming chopper."

  Ricardo tugged his mask up over his face and Valeria did the same. He helped her set up her earpiece for the radio and to clip her mic in an optimal position. "When he lands, we head for the door. We don't engage in small talk with the pilots. If they ask mission-relevant information we provide it, but general chit-chat only leads to accidentally disclosing too much. Don't risk it."

  Banks patted them both on the back before stepping away. "Good luck. Be safe!"

  The chopper appeared in the sky above them, flying low over the West Virginia forest. It spun and dipped to the ground. The rear door was open before it even touched down.

  "Follow me!" Ricardo shouted.

  He jogged toward the chopper, tossing in his pack and rifle before climbing in. He took Valeria's rifle, then helped her inside. He directed her toward a seat, prepared to help her strap in, but she was familiar with the harness from her last ride. The chopper immediately lifted back off, the crew chief securing the door and taking a seat behind them. Ricardo leaned forward and handed a piece of paper off to the copilot. It was the coordinates for their destination.

  Ricardo had made this same flight several times and it didn't take very long. He and Valeria didn't engage in any conversation, though he sometimes directed her attention to geographic features visible through the window.

  When they were minutes from their destination, the pilot signaled Ricardo to slip on the comms. When Ricardo had done so, the pilot asked, "What are our instructions?"

  "The destination has a landing zone. We're not expecting any unpleasantness but you might hover over the LZ until we can confirm that. Once we're sure it's safe, drop down and give us time to either make contact with the residents or take a quick look around."

  "I can give you thirty minutes on the ground," the pilot replied. "I've got other places to be today."

  "Acknowledged. That should be plenty of time."

  "We'll need payment before you get out of the chopper," the pilot added. "In case you get killed or something."

  Ricardo smiled. "Half on landing and half when we head back to West Virginia."

  "That's acceptable,” the pilot said. “Just understand that we're not here to engage on your behalf. If rounds start flying, we're getting the hell out of there."

  "Understood."

  Conor's compound was soon visible beneath them and Ricardo pointed out the chopper pad. The pilot expertly dropped the aircraft and settled gently onto the concrete slab. The crew chief opened the door, dust and debris swirling in the air. Ricardo unbuckled, slung on his pack, and chambered a round in his rifle. He scanned their surroundings and didn't spot anything of concern.

  He dropped to the ground and motioned for Valeria to join him. He heard the sound of her chambering a round in her rifle, then she fell in alongside him. He directed her to follow him and they sprinted clear of the rotor wash, taking cover behind a metal shed.

  "They're not going to leave us, are they?" Valeria asked.

  Ricardo shook his head. "They'll leave the chopper running for a few minutes to make sure we're not going to come under attack. They'll kill the engines when they feel safe." As he spoke, Ricardo's eyes never stopped moving. He'd never dropped into Conor's compound when people weren't outside waiting on him. This certainly didn't support the idea that Conor was alive and well here at his home base.

  "There's a garden!" Valeria said.

  Ricardo hadn't noticed it off to the side of the landing pad. It had to have been planted this summer, so obviously someone had been living here at some point. Part of the garden appeared to be maintained but other parts of it were beaten down as if someone had driven through it. Noting the proximity to the chopper pad, Ricardo wondered if a chopper might even have landed there by mistake.

  There was a change in the pitch of the engines behind them as the pilot shut them down. Ricardo gestured to Valeria to follow him. He stepped out from behind the shed and started walking toward the front of the compound.

  "There are animals," Valeria commented. "I just saw a goat. Wouldn't someone have to be here to take care of them?"

  "If they have weeds and water they're pretty self-sufficient, I suspect. I'm no goat expert, though."

  He headed toward the living quarters but was distracted by the proliferation of tire tracks around the various structures. He crouched and ran a finger over one of them.

  "Are those tire tracks?" asked Valeria.

  “They are.”

  "Can you tell anything about them?"

  "Not really. Only that one set is from a military vehicle."

  "Did your friend have a military vehicle?"

  Ricardo shrugged. "My friend had all kinds of stuff. Most of the time I flew in here it was dark. Then there was just so much stuff laying around that it all kind of blended in together."

  "What do you think happened?"

  "No idea yet, but I need to look in some windows and see what I can see. It looks like the place is abandoned, but I can't tell how it happened. They could have been raided or they could have moved out voluntarily. If Conor and his daughter didn't come home, that just left a couple of young kids living here. Maybe around your age. They might not have been able to protect the place on their own and might have moved on."

  "What about his daughter?"

  Ricardo stood up and brushed his dusty hands off on his pants. "His daughter is special. She's tough. If she's interested in sticking with this business, she could be better than her dad one day."

  "If she's alive," said Valeria.

  Ricardo frowned. "Yeah, if she's alive."

  27

  Ragus's Homeplace

  Jewell Ridge, Virginia

  Ragus and Shannon sat outside of the small mine in the woods behind the mobile home where he'd once lived with his mother. As they often did on sunny days, they had a blanket stretched out in the grass, playing a board game. Life was a lot different than it had been when they lived at the compound. They still visited every day, taking care of the livestock and checking on the state of things, but Conor had demanded they not spend any more time there than necessary. If Browning decided to launch a missile strike against the compound, there might not be any warning that it was coming.

  Conor had been gone for several days now and they'd seen Wayne once during that time. The plan was that he come by every few days to check on them and make sure they were alive. Even though the two resented the implication that they might be unable to take care of themselves, there was something reassuring about seeing Wayne. It added a touch of normality to their disrupted routine.

  Shannon wasn't very impressed with living in the cave. They had two cots pushed together and a tarp laid down like a carpet. There was only so much you could do with the place though. There were spiders, mice, and the air was damp. The place had a subterranean smell to it that she never got quite used to. Then there was the oily coal dust that was
difficult to scrub off. Touch the wrong thing and she'd end up with it all over her clothes, her face, and in her mouth.

  Besides playing board games, they read a lot. It had never been something that Ragus enjoyed until he let Shannon choose a few books for him. Now it was one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime. They also worked out and practiced their martial arts. Neither was very advanced, but they worked together to correct each other's moves and try to get better. If they got sloppy they'd hear about it from Barb when she got back and resumed their training.

  Shannon was still gloating over Ragus getting sent to jail in their latest game of Monopoly when she paused and cocked her head. Then Ragus heard it too.

  Shannon sprang to his knees. "Is that...?"

  "Chopper."

  Though it was the first chopper they'd heard since Browning's last visit, they knew what to do. They gathered their blanket and carried it inside the mine. They had no idea who might be visiting the compound but they didn't want to be spotted. If they were spotted outside the mine, all of their efforts to cache supplies there would be for nothing.

  They grabbed up their packs and weapons, then stood together just inside the mouth of the mine, listening.

  Ragus wore a worried frown. "I swear it sounds like it's not getting any further away. Like they're hovering."

  "Or landing," Shannon noted.

  "We need to get a look."

  Shannon looked uncertain. "It could be Browning. Maybe he's come to make sure Conor really is gone on the mission that he asked him to do."

  "Hell, it could be anyone, but I'd like to know who's paying a visit to our home. If we don't see who it is, it'll drive me nuts worrying over it. Do you want to stay here?"

  She looked appalled. "Of course not. I'm not letting you go alone. You'll just do something stupid."

  He rolled his eyes. "We'll need to hurry."

  They jogged from the mine, checking their surroundings to make sure there was no one around to see them emerge from their hideaway. When they reached the road, they ran toward the compound.

  "This sucks," Ragus groaned. Besides the uphill grade, the day was buggy, hot, and generally miserable.

  "I'll understand if you're too weak to make it," Shannon teased. "I guess I can always come back and give you a report."

  Ragus gritted his teeth and pushed on. There was no way he was letting Shannon beat him to the top. At least he hoped not.

  Besides the horses that Conor and Barb took, Ragus and Shannon kept two for themselves, although they couldn't ride them when stealth was important. There was something about horses that made them choose the most inopportune moments to snort, whinny, or loudly gush out gallons of urine. Wayne had taken the rest of the horses with him, keeping them at Johnny Jacks' house.

  It took them longer than expected to reach the compound. They were staggering and breathing so hard that they dared not get too close for fear they'd be heard. They planted themselves in the woods across from the compound gate. They had a good view from there were hidden from sight.

  "There's the chopper," Shannon said. "Sitting on the pad with the engine off."

  Ragus was digging into his pack, trying to locate the binoculars Conor had given him. Neither of them was running a magnified optic on their rifles so they needed something that would let them study the property closer. When he finally found them, he steadied his elbows against a fallen tree and scanned the compound grounds.

  "There's a guy by the chopper smoking a cigarette, but he's not moving around," Ragus reported. He inhaled suddenly.

  "What?" she demanded.

  "Two people just came out of the shop area."

  Shannon squinted her eyes in that direction, catching the movement of the two figures but unable to make out any details. "Did they break in?"

  "I can't tell. They're looking around the outside."

  "Is it Browning?"

  Ragus shook his head. "Can't tell. Two people with masks, goggles, and tactical gear."

  "Military?"

  "I don't think so, but I'm no expert. All I can say is they don't look military."

  "Have you ever seen them before?"

  He frowned and handed the binoculars over to Shannon. "If I can't see their faces, how am I supposed to know if I've ever seen them before?"

  "I don't know. Maybe by the shape of their body. Maybe by the way they move around. Sometimes you can tell who someone is without seeing their face."

  "Well, do you recognize them, Sherlock?"

  She studied them for a moment and then shook her head. "No, I can't tell either."

  He grinned with satisfaction but didn't say anything. Being a smartass would only cause him to suffer for the rest of the day. "What should we do?"

  "Let's just watch them," Shannon said, never taking her eyes from the binoculars. "Being seen will only complicate things. It's probably better if they think no one is home."

  "If you say so." Ragus wasn't so certain. He resented this whole imposition, the way Browning's specter had hung over the camp all spring and summer. If these were Browning's people he'd love to kill them simply for the satisfaction of a little payback. But Shannon was right. They didn't know who these people were and Conor had been clear that they were to lay low and stay out of trouble.

  They watched the pair as they moved around the compound, passing the binoculars back and forth.

  "They're being thorough," Ragus said. "But they're being respectful too, if that makes any sense."

  "How can you trespass respectfully?"

  "Well, they're not breaking into locked areas and they don't look like they’re damaging anything. And I think the shorter one is a girl."

  "How can you tell that?"'

  Ragus hesitated. "It's hard to tell with that body armor on but I think so."

  Shannon glared at him. "You're staring at her chest?"

  "I...I…we're both staring at both of them," he stammered. "I thought we were supposed to be trying to figure out who they were and stuff."

  " I didn't pick up on one of them being a girl, so apparently one of us was staring harder than the other. I hope you enjoyed yourself."

  Ragus had no idea how to respond to that. "Do you want the binoculars so you can see for yourself?"

  Shannon grinned. "No, I figured that out a long time ago, goofy. I was just messing with you."

  Ragus breathed a sigh of relief. He still hadn't mastered what could and couldn't be joked about in a relationship. He'd found the whole thing to be surprisingly complicated, like negotiating a minefield. "I think they're leaving. They're heading for the chopper."

  The whine of starting engines confirmed this. The two visitors climbed back onto their chopper and the door slid shut. A little while later, the chopper lifted off in a cloud of dust and disappeared back in the direction it had come from.

  Ragus shoved the binoculars back into his pack and got to his feet. "I guess since we're here we might as well do our chores. No use wasting a trip up the hill."

  Shannon stuck her hand up in the air, inviting Ragus to tug her to her feet. He hauled her up, then the two of them walked toward the compound. They used their key to open the gate and then locked it behind them. Before tending to the animals they made a quick pass around the compound and confirmed that nothing had been disturbed.

  "I guess it wasn't Browning or he'd have torn up what was left of the garden," Ragus said.

  "It could have been people working for him."

  They watered the chickens and gathered some eggs. Others were left behind to be hatched into nuggets, dumplings, and hot wings. They refilled the goats' watering trough and scratched the heads of the friendly ones. There had been a few cows wandering around but Wayne had taken those to Johnny's place, afraid that unattended cattle might present too tempting a target for someone wandering by the place.

  When they were done with the animals they made a pass through the garden and picked a few things for their meals. There was no use eating freeze-dried food or MREs w
hen they had fresh vegetables and eggs available. While they were loading tomatoes, peppers, and corn into a bucket they heard the clatter of hooves on the road.

  Both lurched for their rifles out of reflex, then ducked behind a nearby forklift without exchanging a word. The rider came straight for the gate, reining in his horse as he stared through the chain-link fencing. It was Wayne.

  Ragus stood up and waved. Shannon leaned her rifle against the forklift and went back to the garden while Ragus jogged toward the gate.

  "I thought I heard a chopper," Wayne said. "It never got any closer, so I wondered if it might have been coming here."

  "It was." Ragus unlocked the gate. "We got here in time to see it."

  Wayne climbed off his horse and led it through the gate. Ragus locked it behind him and they walked toward the garden.

  "Who was it? Any idea?"

  Ragus shook his head. "They had masks. Looked like a man and woman. We couldn't tell who they were."

  "What were they doing?"

  "They were just checking out the place from what we could see. They walked around the main compound and looked in the windows, but they didn't break into anything. They didn't do any damage as far as we could tell."

  "Ragus wanted to blast them," Shannon added when they reached her.

  Wayne dropped the reins and let his horse wander over to the trough. "Why?"

  "Whoever they were, they got no business here,” Ragus spat. “They've totally disrupted our lives."

  "They could have been friendlies," Wayne said. "What if they were people that Conor knew?"

  Ragus frowned. "I didn't think about that."

  Wayne tapped Ragus on the head. "Sometimes you have to be a Conor and not a Barb. You have to be a screwdriver and not a hammer. You can't let your emotions push you into pulling the trigger when you're uncertain of who's downrange of you."

  "I get it," Ragus said, screwing up his mouth and staring at the dirt. "It just feels wrong to see strangers wandering around our home."

  "And you're protective of Conor because he's protective of you," Wayne added. "That's understandable. You made the right call. How would you feel if you'd killed someone only to find out they were here to help?"