by Warren Ray
He wasn’t sure about this artist they were meeting, and he would take all of the precautions he could. It included using a fake name tonight and dressing as casual as he could, which included wearing a ball cap. It seemed silly, but he tended to dress conservatively and needed to dress down. So blue jeans, a t-shirt, and ball cap was the way to go. It was dangerous to meet new people who said they wanted to help you bring down the government. You never knew if they would turn you in or, if caught, rat you out. One positive thing was that the man already knew Stormy, but he couldn’t allow anyone to know him well enough to make an identification.
He got out to opened both garage doors. She backed her BMW into the empty stall as Green drove the spare car out of the other one. It was an older Toyota Camry, which was as dependable as you could get. It was one of his requirements when he purchased these vehicles. He didn’t need any of them to be breaking down on him while on an operation.
He then backed his newer Camry inside. Stormy stood off to the side while he shut both garage doors and padlocked them.
He hustled around the passenger side and opened her door.
“Why thank you.”
Green received a kiss for his efforts. He could get used to this.
“So, this place we’re going to, does he live there?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have any roommates?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
“Listen, it’s important that he doesn’t know who I am.”
“I know…I know. Oh, and I’ve decided on a new name for you.”
“Oh? I thought that…”
“No. I got something much cooler than the Bob Smith you came up with. I mean, c’mon, Bob Smith.”
Green turned to her in anticipation.
“I’m dubbing you Rick Casey.”
“Rick Casey, huh?”
“Yep. Whaddya say, Rick?” asked a smiling Stormy.
“I like it.
“So, where are we headed?” asked Green wanting to refocus.”
“It’s down on New York Ave in Ivy City.”
Green winced at hearing the location. It wasn’t in a great neighborhood, but artists were typically attracted to those areas because of the cheap rent.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s a bit on the seedy side.”
“Good. The seedier, the better to keep the cops away.”
Green liked her thinking. The more remote they were, the better. Especially, now that there was an arrest warrant out for Stormy. It was dicey enough to be out here with her, to begin with. He would have to see about getting her a fake id or passport. His friend, Sam, could probably help with that. He had been the one to get all the counterfeit documents and tags for his new vehicles.
The drive to the artist’s place didn’t take long, and Green parked in front of a small building that was jammed in between two larger ones. It was on the fringe of one of D.C.’s more inhospitable neighborhoods. The area was strewn with garbage. A shopping cart with a broken wheel was abandoned next to a dirty mattress. None of the streetlights were working, and it was difficult to see anything. It was a perfect place to rendezvous. No cops in their right minds would bother to come down here unless it was to pick up a dead body.
“What’s his name?” asked Green as he turned the car off.
“Julio Vasquez. He’s like early-twenties.”
They got out and banged on the front door of the windowless façade. It took a few moments before Julio answered.
“Stormy!” he said as he gave her a big hug. Julio stood about five-six and sported mid-length hair with a shadow of a beard he was desperately trying to grow. His smile was infectious as he reached out to shake Green’s hand.
“This is Rick, Rick Casey,” said Stormy.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” said Julio.
“The pleasure is all mine,” said Green.
“Come in, come in,” said Vasquez as he pulled the door open.
It was an open-air type of interior with a workbench off to one side and carpenter tools lying about. An artist easel stood next to a table with various tubes of paint and brushes. A copy machine sat beside it. In the very back was a closed off area where Vasquez slept.
“I’ve been anxiously waiting for you guys. I’ve got some great ideas that I’ve already put together.”
“Oh?” asked Stormy.
“Yeah, man. I got real excited when you told me what you had in mind and why.”
Green looked at Stormy wondering exactly how much she’d told him. Not that he was too worried about this young man. He had a way about him that immediately put you at ease.
Vasquez led them to a table with rolled up tubes of paper lying on top. He grabbed one that was four feet wide and asked Stormy to hold the end. He then walked backward as he unrolled a six-foot caricature of Perozzi as a frail old man being held up by two bikini-clad, busty ladies, one of whom was holding a colostomy bag.
Green’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh my goodness,” laughed Stormy. “That’s friggin awesome.”
Vasquez turned to Green. “You like it, Rick?”
“Wow! You are talented,” grinned Green.
Vasquez rolled it up and grabbed another. This was of Perozzi as a puppet master holding the strings of the President as a marionette. Another painting showed Perozzi looming over the President and Vice-President with the words “bought and paid for” on an oversized receipt.
“Julio, these are fantastic,” said Stormy. “Didn’t I tell you this guy was good?”
“They’re outstanding,” said Green.
“I’ve got a ton of ideas and a few people to help me put them up.”
Green shot him a concerned look.
Vasquez recognized it. “It’s all good. Look, a lot of my artist friends have been changing their minds. You know, we thought things would be better with the government controlling everything, but they’re worse. A lot worse. We got no freedom to say or paint what we want, and we’re pissed off about it. It isn’t right what they’re doing, and it’s time to change it. Artists can make a huge difference, and we’re gonna paint this town and show them that.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Julio,” said Green pulling a wad of hundred dollar bills out of his jacket. “Will this be enough to get things rolling?”
Vasquez’s eyes widened. “More than enough. I’ve got some supplies already, but this will buy us everything we’re gonna need and then some.”
“Take some and pay these friends of yours,” said Green.
“Thank you,” smiled Vasquez.
“When can you get started?”
“Oh, we’re going out tonight. Got some bus stops to hit up, and these big ones are gonna be wheat-pasted up high. It’ll take them at least a day to take ‘em down.”
“Okay. Now, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you not to get caught.
“Oh, yeah. We’ve all done this type of thing before, so we know what we’re doing.”
“Just make sure your guys understand that if you get caught, they’ll torture you for any info that might help them round everyone up.”
“We understand that.”
Green and Stormy chatted with Julio for a few more minutes before leaving. Green was impressed by his enthusiasm. He was like a lot of people that thought the government was there to help; only to find out later the harsh realities of total control. Thankfully, it wasn’t too late to change things.
Green smiled because he had just hired some Shadow Patriots, though they didn’t know it. There were thousands of potential members across the country who easily outnumbered the government. They just needed a spark, and with some luck, this art would help do that here in the district.
Chapter 42
Somewhere on the road in Minnesota
After running to catch up with his stolen truck and taking out the driver, Winters liked his chances of rescuing the girls. As always, he would rely on the element of surprise. He had us
ed this tactic to great effect over the past few months. It was how he was able to defeat larger forces with his much smaller army.
Up until an hour ago, all he could think about was getting back to Jackson and see his small army again. He hoped they would forgive him for taking off in the middle of the night. It wasn’t his best moment, but at the time, he wasn’t thinking clearly. He was confident Reese hadn’t given up on him. She of all people knew what he was going through. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel thinking about her and fantasized about what he would do when he saw her. He would grab onto her and kiss her regardless of who might be around.
He was yanked out of his fantasy when he noticed a flash of light on the side mirror of the truck in front of him. He leaned forward when another flash happened.
“Those were gunshots,” he said aloud to no one.
He let off of the gas pedal and backed off for a second, but then maintained his speed. Something has happened. Was it the girls? It was two shots. Did Fowler kill them? But Collette was driving. He slowed down some more to see if a body was going to tumble out of the truck. Did the girls kill him? His mind was racing trying to come up with an answer. Collette didn’t jam on the brakes in sheer panic. She was driving as if nothing happened.
Over the next ten minutes, Winters’ mind hadn’t stopped thinking about what happened in that cab. However, as the lead truck slowly pulled away from them, it dawned on him that Collette was slowing down a little bit at a time. Then it hit him. Fowler was dead.
At first, he nodded his head at how proud he was of the girls, but then he realized he was in trouble. His two innocent shadows were going to come after him thinking he was Cochran.
This was Laney’s style. Impulsive, only this time she was thinking in advance. They let the lead truck get far ahead so he wouldn’t see the muzzle flashes. No doubt, they’ll charge in and shoot first then ask questions.
He let off the gas to put a little more space between them. His palms began to sweat when he saw the lead truck hit a curve in the road and disappear into the darkness. This was the perfect place, and they knew it.
He jammed on the brakes just a couple of seconds before Collette did. He had one option. He saw their brake lights just as he pulled the door handle. He jumped to the ground just as Laney came rushing in on the other side firing her pistol into the cab. Winters tripped. When he landed, he fell into a full roll to the other side of the road.
Collette sprinted to the truck and fired her Glock through the windshield. The girls kept shooting while Winters tumbled into the tall grass. He tried to count the shots but lost track. He didn’t dare yell out until he was sure their magazines were depleted.
Finally, the shooting stopped.
Winters lifted his head and saw them looking in the cab, confused that it was empty.
He put his hands to his mouth and yelled. “Don’t shoot girls. It’s me. Cole.”
Both turned in his direction with their pistols raised.
“Don’t shoot me, girls,” yelled Winters again. He got up and raised his hands high in the air. “See, it’s me.”
“Cole Winters!” yelled Laney.
Collette squealed in delight.
They both charged in and threw their arms around him.
“You didn’t think I’d let these fools get away did ya?”
“Well, yeah. That’s why I killed Fowler,” said Laney as she let go of him.
“We were, like, going to come back and get you,” said Collette.
“Good going,” said Winters.
“Oh damn, we, like, almost killed you,” exclaimed Collette.
“Yes you did, but luckily, I figured it out just in the nick of time.”
“Oh, my God. Thank God you did,” said Laney. “That would have sucked big-time.”
“But, like, how did you get here?” asked Collette.
“As soon as I saw the trucks leaving, I hauled ass and was able to jump on the bumper. I got in the cab when we made that turn.”
“Wow,” said an impressed Collette.
“Look we need to get going, so Butler doesn’t think there’s anything wrong,” said Winters.
“We’re going after him?” asked Collette.
“Damn right, I need that truck back.”
Laney pumped her fist in the air. “Yes, I love it.”
“Besides if we take off now, he might come looking for the trucks in Sabine.”
They nodded in agreement.
“Is Fowler still in the cab?”
The girls nodded.
“Okay, let’s get him out, and I need you guys to hurry. As soon as Butler stops, I’ll come around and take him out. Okay?”
Winters pulled Fowler out of the truck and dragged him into the tall grass. He told Collette to go before slamming the door. They had already been out of Butler’s sight too long, and he didn’t want to miss an opportunity in case he stopped to wait for them to catch up. It was imperative to take him out before they got to Duluth. No telling if he had people waiting for them.
Winters picked up speed and began to laugh as the wind blew through the holes in the windshield. There were three of them and had a nice tight grouping for someone running. Considering the tense moment, Collette’s aim was damn good. Neither of them panicked and they had charged in without hesitation. That was an incredible moment for them. No longer were they innocent shadows but determined fighters.
He turned on the interior light and saw the bullet holes through the passenger door and a couple in the seat. He nodded in approval. Good thing he figured out what they were up to, otherwise, he’d be dead. That would have haunted them for the rest of their lives.
Chapter 43
Winters was behind Collette as they drove on US 2. They had caught up with Butler and she was following about a hundred feet behind. It didn’t appear as if he had stopped to wait for them because it took quite awhile for them to catch him. They had been following him for over two hours and had already gone through Grand Rapids, Minnesota. They were closing in on Duluth, which was the last place Winters wanted to go with three trucks loaded with valuable supplies. People still lived there and were probably just as desperate as the rest of the Midwest. It would be too dangerous to show up with loaded trucks, two of which were being driven by teenaged girls.
Collette tried to signal Butler to stop, but he was either ignoring her or was aware it wasn’t his friends. They could have had a coded signal and he was leading them into a trap.
Winters pulled the map off the dash to decide just how far he would be willing to go, then if Butler crossed that red line, the third truck would be forfeited. Since they didn’t know who was meeting Butler, it wasn’t worth going any further and putting themselves in danger. The problem was there weren’t a lot of roads to take before they got to Duluth. There were only two decent options, one was State Road 73, which was coming up fast, and the other was State Road 33. He had decided on the latter giving Butler one more chance.
He ran his finger over to Wisconsin, which was just east of Duluth. They would be at the very top of the state with a straight shot onto the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. This was ideal because it would be just less than three hundred miles across the UP and then another two hundred miles down the state to Jackson.
It wasn’t appealing to take these girls to a war zone, but driving back to Iowa before going to Jackson would make it a twelve hundred mile trip. Of course, the girls would do whatever he asked of them, so that wasn’t the question. He just didn’t want to get them involved, but at this point, it would be foolhardy to not keep going.
They flew by the State Road 73 exit and had just another twenty miles to try to get Butler to pull over. Deciding to get in front of the girls, Winters swerved into the other lane and waved as he passed by them. Winters turned his lights off and on a few times to no avail and vowed to stick to his red line decision to abandoned the third truck. The loss of the vehicle would hurt especially since it contained most of the food supplies.<
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The exit to State Road 33 was just a couple of miles away, and Winters let off the gas to put some distance between them and Butler but not enough to raise suspicions. Little by little, they were falling further behind. Winters would turn the headlights off before turning and then disappear into the night.
The overpass was just ahead, and Winters let out a scowl when Butler’s brake lights lit up the dark. He was slowing down to take the exit.
“Well, there goes that plan,” thought Winters. They weren’t going to Duluth after all. The third truck was back in play but so was his initial concern over meeting other people. The nearest town was Cloquet, Minnesota, which was five miles south. It was a small town and most likely deserted. There was nothing to do at this point but see where Butler would take them.
Ten minutes later, Butler was finally pulling over by taking a right into a parking lot in front of a closed down office building on the outskirts of Cloquet. The building measured a hundred and twenty feet. The parking lot in front of the building was only two lanes. One was for parking and the other as a right-a-way with an entrance and exit.
Winters took his time turning into the narrow lot and wanted to keep some distance between the trucks. Butler stopped after passing the front door to the building, so Winters parked at the beginning of the building. Collette smartly followed suit and stayed behind him.
Winters' pulse quickened waiting for Butler to get out of the truck. Was this his place? Did he live here? Or was this Fowler’s place and he was supposed to get out and open the door? Butler then started honking the horn. Winters was unsure what this meant. Was Butler honking at him or was there was someone in the building, and if so, how many?
Deciding it was best to keep the headlights on to blind anyone approaching, Winters jumped out and ran back to the girls.
“What’s going on?” asked Collette in a nervous tone.
“Not sure. Listen, turn the headlights off, put your holsters on and grab your goggles. Slip around the corner of the building and be ready.”
The horn beeped a few more times convincing Winters that this was a meet. He jumped back in his truck and powered up his night-vision goggles before taking out his new Glock. He threaded the suppressor onto the barrel while focusing his attention on what was happening in front of him.