Never Again

by M. A. Rothman

  Greg shook his head vehemently. “Not a chance in hell. I’m charged with bringing Holmes back.” He hitched his thumb toward the red-headed woman. “The crazy chick isn’t part of the equation.”

  Taking a deep breath, Neeta tried to keep the anger from her voice. “Greg, I know you’re trying to do what’s right, but think about it. You’ve got Dave trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. He’s not going anywhere. What harm is it just getting a couple of the soldiers to bring this woman within sight of Dave and see if anything changes? I’ve never seen Dave so angry. He’s freaking out.”

  “All the more reason I’m not doing anything.”

  The soldier unlocked the door to the rear compartment, and Neeta knew that was her cue to leave. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with Greg Hildebrand.

  ###

  Sitting across from Dave, Neeta tapped the cell phone bud in her ear and whispered, “Phone ... signal.”

  “There is currently no available signal,” her cell phone said in her ear.

  She knew that the likelihood of getting a signal was almost zero at their cruising altitude, but she had to try.

  “Phone, call Burt Radcliffe.”

  “There is currently no available signal. Do you want me to continue trying, and if so, how frequently?”

  “Yes ... frequency ... one minute.”

  “Confirmed.”

  Neeta stared at Dave, struck by the angry scowl on his face. His eyes were closed, but she knew he was awake. She’d managed to get a few affirmative grunts confirming that the redheaded woman was, in fact, the Bella he’d been yelling about. However, he refused to answer any questions or say a word to Neeta. She’d seen Dave frustrated, but never angry—she wouldn’t have believed it was within him to get so angry. Clearly she was wrong.

  “Dave, as I told you, I already tried to help and Hildebrand wouldn’t listen. I promise you that I’ll twist every arm I need to so I can get someone’s attention who can help you.”

  Dave blinked open his eyes and turned his gaze toward her. A hint of a smile creased his lips. “You were always a bully, Neeta. I’m glad you haven’t changed.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Burt watched as the man who’d piloted him across the continent hopped out of the cockpit and scrambled down the ladder to the asphalt, as quickly as a spider monkey. In contrast, Burt felt every one of his fifty years as he unplugged his G-suit, unwedged himself from his seat, and somehow managed to climb down the ladder without killing himself.

  Just as Burt took his first steps, the pilot came to him, clapped his hand on Burt’s shoulder, and smiled. “Feeling a bit sore?”

  Glancing at the young pilot, who’d already taken off his helmet, Burt stared at him through his open visor. “Sore? Are you freaking kidding me? I feel bruised from my hips to the tips of my toes. I don’t ever want to wear another of these glorified torture devices again.”

  “You’ll be fine soon enough. Trust me, that squeezing you were feeling helped keep the blood in your head so you didn’t pass out. In truth, we didn’t ever really pull many G’s, so the G-suit shouldn’t have squeezed you too bad.”

  As Burt tried to figure out how to undo his helmet’s chinstrap, he shook his head and frowned at the young pilot. “All I know is that when you kept dropping us out of the sky like a rock for refueling runs and then launching us back up into the stratosphere, it messed with this old civilian. I’m not used to this stuff.”

  “Well, I was told we needed to get you here ASAP, so I did what I was told.” The pilot chuckled and motioned toward the distant concrete building as Burt finally managed to slip off his helmet. “Doctor Radcliffe, it looks like your welcoming committee has arrived.”

  Burt glanced to the east and noticed a black SUV speeding toward them. A flashing blue light on the dashboard indicated some type of police, or possibly Secret Service.

  Within moments, the SUV came to an abrupt halt, and a man wearing the basic dark suit and tie that most Secret Service agents wore hopped out of the passenger seat and motioned to Burt. “Doctor Radcliffe, the president has asked me to bring you directly to the White House.”

  Burt tossed his helmet to the pilot, who deftly caught it. “Major Sanchez, I don’t think I’ll be needing that anymore. Thanks for bringing my sorry ass here in one piece.”

  The pilot waved good-naturedly as Burt was escorted to the back of the SUV. “Anytime, sir.”

  The agent opened the door, and Burt climbed into the vehicle. The smell of new leather greeted him. The agent shut the door and hopped back into the front passenger seat. Burt leaned forward and asked the driver, “How long of a drive will it be?”

  “Sir, I’d say at this time of the day, it would normally be about an hour and a half, but buckle up. We’ve got a Priority-One override on the AVR system, so I plan on getting you to your meeting in about thirty minutes.”

  Burt pressed the seatbelt button, and the safety belt immediately snaked itself across his chest until he heard the familiar click. The SUV lurched, and within minutes, they were racing through traffic at breakneck speed. Burt silently groaned as he tensed for a heart-thumping ride.

  ###

  They were five minutes from the White House, and Burt watched as the SUV’s priority emergency signal overrode all of the traffic lights and forced the nearest vehicles to give them a wide berth. The SUV was racing through yet another intersection when Burt’s phone began vibrating. He fumbled with the flight suit he was still wearing, trying to extract his phone from its hidden pocket. When he managed to touch the screen to answer it and put it against his ear, all he heard was static.

  He glanced at the readout and recognized Neeta’s number.

  “Are you there? Neeta, aren’t you still in the air?”

  A rash of static erupted from his phone’s speaker, and suddenly the line went silent. “Neeta? Neeta, you still there?”

  “Burt, can you hear me?”

  “I can hear you, but you’re fading in and out—”

  “Status report. I’m in the plane, but I think we’re beginning to descend. Dave’s here and he needs help. He’s frantic about the welfare of a woman who accompanied him onto the jet, and Hildebrand is keeping them separated. I’ve no clue why, other than it seems he wants to be a total ass. Dave was also unconscious when they brought him in and he’s got a big gash on his head. Dave’s really pissed about how he’s being treated, and I told him I’d contact someone who might be able to help.”

  “Neeta, I’m about to meet with the president. I swear that I’ll talk to her about—”

  The phone howled with a rash of static and suddenly lost connection.

  Burt leaned over, peered through the windshield, and saw the White House looming ahead as the SUV raced through the traffic.

  ###

  Lieutenant Jon Stryker watched as shoppers in the parking lot of the South Hill Mall walked by and stared at the unusual sight.

  After all, it wasn’t every day that forty members of the 66th Military Police Company gathered in a public space, dressed in their ACUs and loaded for combat.

  Hearing the traffic from South Meridian, the main artery of the small town, Stryker pulled in a deep breath and addressed the four squads lined up in front of him.

  “The Company Commander has assigned us to augment the local police. You’ve all been briefed, but let’s not forget why we’re here.

  “Yesterday, the Washington State Governor went public with a warning about some of the violent protests that we’ve all been briefed on. The governor doesn’t want what’s happened in other states to happen here.

  “We’ve been assigned to Puyallup and the nearby towns because the local police force has noted some unusual protests in the area. We’re here to support the local law enforcement in their effort to keep the peace and prevent things from getting out of hand, nothing more. We all understand that?”

  “Hooah!” All forty soldiers responded loudly in uni
son.

  Turning his attention to the three sergeants standing at attention in front of their respective squads, Stryker barked, “Lopez, Carlson, and Johnson. Your squads focus on the South Hill and Graham area. Work out between the three of you how you maximize your coverage.” Stryker jabbed a finger in their direction to emphasize the point. “Be smart, nothing less than two-man patrols. You’ll probably want to focus on high traffic areas, like this mall and all the plazas along Meridian. You got me?”

  “Yes, sir,” was the immediate response from all three. Stryker turned his gaze toward the sergeant leading the squad primarily composed of 31Ds, the criminal-investigations part of the company.

  “Cohen, I need your CID team to work with the investigators at the Pierce County Sheriff’s Office. They’ve got leads on who some of these characters might be and will need help following up on them. If people are trying to organize terrorists in our midst, it’s on you to track them down.

  “I got a call this morning about some activity over on the edge of our patrol range, so I’m off to visit with the Chief of the Orting PD to see what’s up.

  “Everyone, watch each other’s sixes, keep your eyes peeled and your radios on. Are there any questions?”

  The simultaneous report of “No, sir!” rang across the mall parking lot, and Stryker yelled, “Dismissed!”

  ###

  Standing in the office of the Orting Chief of Police, Stryker watched as Chief Mia Sterud scanned the paperwork he’d handed her.

  She had dark skin, dark hair, and almond-shaped eyes set above high cheekbones. Her features all hinted heavily at her Native American heritage. The Chief had an ageless look to her, but he’d wager she was somewhere in her thirties. She’d have been attractive if it weren’t for her stern expression.

  With a loud sniff, Mia handed back a copy of the orders he’d received. “Lieutenant Stryker, you’ll have to excuse me, but I don’t see that there’s much good you can do for us here. It’s not like you know the area or the people.”

  “Chief, I’ve been assigned to patrol the Puyallup, Graham, Orting, and South Hill region with the MPs under my command. We’re not here to do anything else but provide assistance to your officers. However, I’d received a report that there was an incident two days ago in this town about someone rabble-rousing. Can you tell me what happened? I have people I need to report to.”

  The Chief leaned back in her chair and pursed her lips.

  As she did so, Stryker couldn’t help but notice that despite the obvious bulk of the bulletproof vest under her police uniform, she had a slim figure.

  “Lieutenant, I don’t know how this got back to you, since it wasn’t that big of a deal. Nonetheless, we did have a disturbance near the high school.”

  “What kind of disturbance?”

  “Just an old hobo ranting about religious stuff. He was preaching all sorts of dark messages, you know, material out of Revelations, but he was harmless. He just spooked some of the regulars and they called us in to see if we could calm him down.”

  Stryker felt a tingle at the base of his neck as he heard her describe the religious preaching. That religious undertones were a common factor in almost all of the protests had purposefully been kept out of the news. “And did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Calm him down? What’d you do with this hobo?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “He wasn’t there when one of my officers arrived at the scene, but before you even ask, no, I didn’t particularly plan on following up. He wasn’t exactly doing anything other than maybe disturbing the peace, at worst.” Mia paused and stared up at him. “Lieutenant, we’re a small town of roughly 8,500 people. I have only a handful of officers total, and that pretty much means that there’s usually only two to three people on shift at any given time. Believe it or not, chasing an old vet back into the woods where he’s hidden himself away for the better part of a few decades isn’t high on my list of things to do.”

  “Listen, I completely understand. Can you show me where you think this guy is? I’d like to follow up with him.”

  Levering herself up out of her chair, Mia walked over to the wall, where a large poster depicted an aerial view of the Orting area, and placed her finger on an image of a building. “Look here, this is the high school, and just one-hundred yards northeast is the Puyallup River. Across from that is some really dense woods. He lives up there, kind of off the grid. We don’t really pay him much attention, since other than that one incident, he’s never been an issue.”

  “So, if you point me to the rough location, I’ll hunt around for him. Frankly, I just have some questions for him. Nothing more.”

  Mia tilted her head and stared at Stryker with a furrowed brow. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “So what did ... no, never mind.” She glanced over her shoulder, grabbed a windbreaker with Orting PD stenciled on the back from a coat rack, and said, “Let’s go.”

  “I thought—”

  “You’ll never find him on your own, and if it’s so important that the Army is sending someone to my town, I’ll do what I can to help.”

  The Chief patted at her sidearm, grabbed keys out of her desk drawer, and pointed at her open office door.

  “Let’s go.”

  ###

  The air was heavy with the scent of pine as Stryker ducked under a branch and pushed through the dense evergreen forest. Mia led him up a steep trail through the woods. He glanced at his digital mapping device, and noted that they’d climbed roughly three-hundred feet since crossing the river.

  He breathed heavily as he worked at keeping up with the nimble chief of police, who seemed able to effortlessly flit through and around the obstacles that lay before them. “You mentioned that this guy’s a vet. Do you know who he is?”

  Mia glanced up at where the sun streamed through the canopy and shifted the angle of her ascent. “I don’t know his real name, but everyone in town is pretty familiar with Old Rick. Rumor has it, he fought in the Iraq war back in the early 2000s, but he’s lived off the grid pretty much since I’ve known of him.”

  “How long have you lived in the area?”

  “All my life. My family has been in these lands for pretty much forever.”

  “You’re part of the Pew-all-up tribe?”

  The Chief turned to him and smiled. “I’m impressed. Most folks butcher the pronunciation of Puyallup unless they’re from here.”

  “I practiced,” Stryker admitted. “So is there anything else to know about Rick? Sounds like he’s at least in his late seventies or early eighties, if he goes back to the Iraq campaign.”

  She shook her head and stepped over a fallen log. “Not really. He kind of wanders into town every couple weeks, visits the bank, buys some supplies, and takes off.”

  “I’m guessing that he’s probably pulling a pension or disability. That would explain how he paid for anything.”

  Mia pointed toward the steep rise ahead and said, “His cabin, if you want to call it that, is up ahead at the top of that hill.”

  Stryker pulled alongside Mia and stared at the shaded spot she’d indicated. To him, it looked like a mottled upwelling of brush and sticks. “I’m not really sure I see anything from here.”

  “The only reason I even know it’s up there is because my brother and I used to hunt for deer and we’d stumbled into it ages ago. The old guy must have heard us coming back then, because he shooed us away as soon as we got within sight.” Without warning, Mia cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, “Rick, you up there?”

  As her voice echoed loudly through the trees, Stryker cringed and wished she hadn’t done that.

  He’d rather have had a chance to approach without warning the old guy.

  “He’s old, he might not hear that well anymore.” Mia began climbing up the slope, and Stryker followed closely.

  As they drew near, he saw t
hat the cabin was draped in the living foliage of the surrounding forest. Wood-sorrel covered the walls and entrance of the building, making it look like a natural extension of the forest floor.

  A breeze filtered through the canopy, sending beams of light coruscating across the forest floor, illuminating the entrance to the cabin.

  Mia took a step closer.

  Stryker launched.

  He hit her in the gut, lifting her off the ground.

  They tumbled back downhill, toward a nearby tree, as the bomb exploded.

  The blast slammed into Stryker’s back, knocking the wind out of him as he covered Mia with his body and ducked his head.

  He felt a sharp sting in his shoulder and grimaced.

  Something had gotten a piece of him.

  A large plank of wood slammed only six inches from Stryker’s head, and with his heart racing, he grabbed Mia by the arm, cringing with pain, as he lifted her over his shoulder and ran from the cabin.

  He set the police chief down behind a tree and knelt in the dirt, while debris continued raining all around them.

  “How did you know?” Mia gasped as she sat up.

  “I saw a light glint off the tripwire just as you were about to step on it.”

  Stryker leaned back and probed his right shoulder.

  “You’re bleeding!”

  He nodded as he examined the wound. “It’s superficial. Whatever hit me just took a bite, nothing more.”

  “Oh, damn, you really got hit.” She reached toward him, grabbed at his body armor and plucked something out.

  A ball bearing.

  Feeling a hot surge of frustration, Stryker shook his head. “I should have seen it earlier.”

  Staring at the steel ball in her hand, Mia gasped, “You saved my life!” She leaned over and gazed at the cabin with a wide-eyed expression. “Why the hell would—”

  “He clearly didn’t want visitors.” Stryker pressed a button on his radio, and nothing happened. “Shit, radio’s dead.”

  “My ears are ringing.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got an orchestra full of bells ringing in my head too.” He noticed the chief rubbing at her neck. “Hey, Chief, are you okay?”