by Warren Ray
He looked across the cemetery and realized he hadn’t noticed all the freshly dug graves when he first arrived. Several looked less than a week old and were still grass free. Some appeared to be as shallow as the one he’d dug for Cara. He had dug down as far as he dared not wanting to disturb his wife’s coffin.
His fellow citizens seemed to be dying left and right. They must be filled with older people as they had a tougher time with limited resources, especially the lack of medicine. Or was it something else? He continued to stare when an idea struck him, and he started the van and headed over to his house. It was a quick ten-minute ride, and his heart began to beat faster realizing how much he missed it. They had lived in the same home for fifteen years, and it held many memories. He nodded his head promising he’d only think of the good times hoping that would help him get out of his melancholy. He might even stay the night and sleep in his own bed.
He turned onto his street and his eyes lit up as he recognized all the houses. The park across the street now had rusted playground equipment and the grass was overgrown. He remembered taking Cara to this park and pushing her on the swings. The place held good memories, and he tapped his fingers at their recall.
Approaching his house, he could only shake his head in disbelief. The place was burned to the ground. The houses on either side hadn’t been touched, nor any of the others on the street. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and began to breathe fast as he stopped in front of the driveway. “Who the hell did this and why? Was it the government or his neighbors?” His short-lived sense of euphoria slipped away and he sank in his seat in growing disappointment. If he’d learned anything over the past few months, it was to not to count on anything. He should have known better.
As he continued to stare at the charred structure, he realized a couple of people across the street were staring at him. He recognized them as his neighbors, Edward and Judith Sherman. He opened the door to go talk to them but saw them scurry into their house. He let out a scoff figuring they didn’t recognize him. He had lost weight and looked different from when he left. Besides, he was driving a police van.
He hustled up on their porch and banged his fist on the door. He could hear voices inside and knocked again.
“Ed, it’s me, Cole Winters.”
He waited a few moments. “Ed, please, it’s Cole Winters. I just want to talk to you.”
He strained his ears and heard murmuring. He scrunched his face in confusion. He had always gotten along with the Sherman’s and had always been there to help them as they were older than him and couldn’t always manage the place without some assistance. Their two sons were useless and never around to help and the grandsons were not much better. They were always getting in trouble with the law, and one of them even served time in prison.
Winters tried banging on the door one more time. “Please, I just want to talk.”
He stood there waiting and hadn’t noticed someone had snuck up behind him. The cocking of a pump shotgun prompted him to turn his head. He was startled to see a man boring down on him.
Chapter 6
Jackson Michigan
Scar had been holding a meeting with the Shadow Patriots key members to discuss Winters’ absence when Meeks came in and interrupted them with news about Nordell.
“Someone grabbed all of our prisoners and it looks like they’re going to execute them.”
“What?” said Taylor. “Those sons-of-bitches came in just as I was leaving to come here. They said they needed to question the cops about Posey.”
“Where are they?” asked Scar.
“Downtown,” said Meeks. “Something else you need to know.”
“What?” asked Scar.
“The crowd is pretty riled up.”
They all looked at each other and then at Scar.
“We’d better get down there,” said Scar. “Corporal, you and Burns come with us.”
They nodded and the four left Elliott’s room.
Reese looked at Nate. “I ain’t missing an execution. You up for it?
“Oh, we friends again?” asked Nate.
Reese punched him playfully in the arm. “I suppose.”
Nate looked at Amber. “What about you?”
Amber turned to Elliott. “Would you mind?”
“No, not at all, go.”
“Don’t forget about me,” said Taylor. “They’re my prisoners.”
“Well, let’s go already,” ordered Reese as she hurried out of the room.
Nate leaned toward Amber. “Someone’s out of their funk.”
“Yeah, I see that,” said Amber with a raised eyebrow.
As he peeled out of the parking lot, Meeks saw Reese hobbling toward another SUV in his rearview mirror. It didn’t surprise him knowing the personal hatred she held for the cops. He floored the pedal and headed downtown. Up ahead were two flatbed trailers parked in the middle of the intersection of Michigan Avenue and Jackson Street. A large boisterous crowd stood in front waiting for the show to begin. Thirteen gagged prisoners, six of which were cops, stood on the flatbeds with their hands tied behind their backs. Several armed citizens stood guard while Nordell yelled down into the large crowd.
“What the hell are we gonna to do?” asked Meeks.
“Damn good question,” said Scar.
“We can’t let them do this,” stated Burns. “It goes against everything that we are.”
“I’m with you on that,” said Bassett. “Problem is, once a mob is whipped up, it’s hard to settle ‘em down. I’ve seen this before in Iraq.”
“What happened?” asked Scar.
“Well, let’s just say some innocents got killed trying to save the doomed.”
Scar let out a deep breath knowing he was damned whatever he did. If he tried to stop them from executing prisoners, he’d anger the mob and lose control. If he didn’t stop it, then it would be unforgivable in the eyes of most of the Shadow Patriots. Winters had laid down the law when they first came together that all prisoners would be given quarter. These prisoners were under their protection and they couldn’t let a mob take them. He needed to get down there right away and talk to Nordell.
Meeks parked the truck and all four of them got out and headed toward the flatbeds. The tension in the air was heavy as the crowd yelled up at the prisoners. A clear thirst for revenge electrified the mob. The citizens’ eyes burned with revenge wanting these prisoners dead.
Scar jumped up on the trailer and could barely hear himself above the roar of the crowd as he approached Nordell who was center stage.
“What the hell are you doing, Gunny?”
“Having an execution.”
“I can see that, but you’re only supposed to execute Posey who’s not even here.”
“Yeah, I know, he’s not well enough to execute, thanks to Winters.”
Scar’s eyes widened hearing Nordell’s tone. Here, was the old Nordell they had come to know when they had first met. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“He promised Posey to me, but he can’t even get out of bed. How the hell are we supposed to execute him?”
“You can wait.”
“I have no problem with that.”
“You don’t?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then why are these prisoners here? Who told them we were holding them?”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t say anything.”
“Who did?”
“Someone in your group spilled the beans about them, and next thing I know here we are.”
“What?”
“You heard me. This morning, when everyone heard about Posey and what he had done, they were pretty pissed off. But when they saw his condition they knew they couldn’t execute him. They were mad as hell when they found out what happened to him. So, this is Winters’ fault for stabbing him.”
“That still doesn’t explain the prisoners.”
“Someone in your group said something, alright.” Nordell pointed at
the crowd. “They smelled blood and now they want it.”
“You need to stop this.”
“You think I can stop this now. There’s no way in hell I could. I can’t and I won’t. These people need justice and they’re going to get it one way or the other.”
“This isn’t justice. It’s revenge pure and simple.”
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. These people want it and there’s no stopping them.”
“Bull-crap.”
“Scar, don’t do this. I’m telling you, this will not have a pleasant ending.”
“Pleasant? There’s nothing pleasant about this.”
“I know that. But the people you’re trying to help will turn on you. Do you want that? I sure as hell don’t.”
“These prisoners are under our protection.”
“Look into this crowd.”
Scar looked down at the crowd. Angry faces hurled insults up at the stage. The prisoners were standing behind Scar, and the crowd was now directing their hatred toward him. Even though they couldn’t hear what he was saying to Nordell, they could tell he wasn’t on their side. How could they be doing this to him? He was there to help them. Scar raised his hands and motioned the crowd to quiet down but they weren’t having it. He grew frustrated and decided to take matters into his own hands. He pointed at Bassett to join him.
Bassett jumped up. “What are ya gonna do?”
“I’m taking these prisoners out of here.”
Bassett looked at the men standing guard and shook his head knowing, as Scar started moving toward them, that this wasn’t going to work.
All six guards rushed forward pointing their weapons at Scar and yelled at him to back off. Bassett grabbed onto Scar’s big shoulders and suggested they leave.
“We’re not gonna win this,” said Bassett.
Scar looked at the guards, some of whom he recognized. He turned to Nordell. “This isn’t right, Gunny.”
Nordell shrugged his shoulders and turned his back on him.
Bassett and Scar jumped off the trailers to jeers from the crowd as they pushed their way back through the mob to the SUV’s. As soon as they reached their vehicles, shots rang out and four Jijis collapsed to the floor of the trailers. There was a hush through the audience before loud clapping and cheering arose as one sentiment.
Chapter 7
Sabine Iowa
Winters had come home to bury his daughter and take the first step on the long and difficult road to healing. Guilt and anger had overwhelmed him and he no longer trusted himself to make sound decisions. Everywhere he went death usually followed him but last night’s death had been a tipping point.
After getting back to Jackson and hearing Elliott was going to be fine; the idea of coming home to bury Cara dominated his thinking. He hoped, in some way, it would begin the healing process.
“I got him, Grandpa.”
Winters recognized the man who was in his early thirties and tried to remember his name. “Hey, careful with that, I’m not armed.”
“Get your hands up so I can see ‘em,” yelled the man. “Grandpa?”
Winters raised his hands and opened his jacket to show the man he wasn’t armed. The door then opened and out came Ed Sherman who wore a dingy white t-shirt that matched his yellowed white hair.
“What the hell’s going on here, Ed?” asked Winters.
“You’re what’s going on,” replied Ed.
“What do ya mean? C’mon you know me,” pleaded Winters.
“Yeah, well, we thought we knew ya,” said Ed.
Judith then came to the door wearing an anxious face and holding a revolver, which looked like an old Smith and Wesson .38. They all seemed determined to keep him there rather than chase him off.
“You raping murderer,” Judith yelled in a disgusted tone as she came out on the wooden porch. Her short frizzy gray hair seemed to straighten out as she yelled at him. Spit came out of her mouth and drooled down her pink gingham apron that looked like a greasy abstract painting.
“We always knew you were just a creepy man,” said Judith.
Winters took a deep breath knowing they had bought all the lies the government was saying about him. It didn’t matter that they had been neighbors for fifteen years. As long as the government told the lies and told them often enough, people tended to put aside all skepticism and believe the lies. When it came to something like raping and murdering it seemed to give more gravity to the charge despite the lack of evidence.
“Timmy, keep your gun on him while I go get some rope,” ordered Ed.
Winters then remembered Tim. He was the grandson who was always in trouble with the law. He had no morals at all and was as irresponsible as a toddler. He was short and his dark eyes were wide with the excitement of the moment. Winters turned to Judith who had always been sweet but was now a raving lunatic. Her eyes were fixated with irrational hate.
“What are you planning to do?” asked Winters.
“Are you stupid or something?” retorted Tim.
“I’m not sure I’m following,” said Winters.
“Reward money,” said Judith. “That’s what we’re doing.”
“Seventy-five thousand dollars,” yelled Tim.
Winters let out a sigh. He’d forgotten there was a reward on his head. He couldn’t remember if that meant dead or alive.”
“I see what you’re thinking,” said Tim. “It’s a hundred thousand dollars alive and seventy-five thousand dead. That extra twenty-five sure would be nice, but we decided we’d rather string you up and hang you ourselves.”
“That’s right, Cole, you ain’t worth the extra to keep you from a rope,” said Judith. “A nice slow death for raping and killing those young girls, hell I’d bet anything you were molesting Cara too. The way that poor thing ran off.”
A sharp pain formed in Winters’ throat hearing that statement. His mind began to spin listening to these greedy people. The world had gone crazy, and here was an example of every man for himself. They didn’t care if he was innocent or not. All they could think about was the money they were going to get. On one hand, he didn’t blame them as it was tough eking out a living these days, but on the other hand, did they not have an ounce of honor. Innocent until proven guilty. Winters laughed at that quaint creed.
A few others were coming up the street and he didn’t have much time before a crowd would gather to watch him hang. He began to think that perhaps he deserved the rope. Not for the reasons they thought but for failing to keep his daughter alive. Death would be so much easier than having to go back to Jackson to once again face the heavy burden of responsibility and death that had been all around him with more to come if he went back.
Winters began to accept his fate, but the reality of the moment began creeping up on him as he began to remember all the people who depended upon him and loved him. Reese must be going out of her mind that he left without saying goodbye to her. As tough as she was, she was still fragile and needed him to help her. He took a deep breath when he noticed a young girl among the people walking up the street. The child reminded him of Sadie, whom he missed more and more, especially now that Cara was gone. He needed to see her and soak in her spirit. A nice game of Cat’s Cradle would do wonders for his soul and help him deal with the death of his daughter. He had made a solemn promise to her that he’d come back, and he didn’t want to break that promise. A strong wave of determination swept over him and he knew what he needed to do.
Chapter 8
Jackson Michigan
A stomach pain shot through Scar knowing he had failed his first leadership challenge. He stared across the crowd and watched as the last three Jijis were brought forward and tied to the rail posts set into the bed of the trailer. He shook his head as Nordell commanded the guards to fire. The shots rang out and the audience responded again by yelling out in approval.
Scar turned to his friends. “Look at them eat this up.”
“They deserve this,” said Nate.
&nb
sp; Scar shot him a glare.
“Hey, these bastards killed hundreds of people.”
“I know that, Nate. But they were our prisoners and under our protection.”
“After what happened last night, do ya think the captain gives a damn anymore?” asked Nate.
“He’s not here.”
“That’s right, he’s not. Besides, what were we gonna do? Give them a trial?”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
Burns interceded. “It’s our decision to do it the right way.”
“Our decision? Please? Don’t cha think these people earned the right to be involved in that decision, or at the very least deserved to know we were holding them?”
Scar shook his head in disgust at Nate’s attitude. Does he not understand this is no better than murder, which puts them on the same level as the enemy?
On the trailer, Nordell split the six cops into two groups and had the guards tie them to the rail posts.
Reese shuffled over to Scar and pointed. “See those cops right there? The one in the middle, his name is Carter, he raped me six times, and the two next to him, liked to…” she paused for a moment, “Well, I don’t even want to say what they did.”
Scar turned to see the glee in her eyes. He didn’t know what to say and only gave her a reaffirming nod. He kept staring at her as Nordell gave the command to fire and watched as a small smile appeared on her face as the shots rang out.
“It should be me pulling the trigger,” she said to no one.