by A. American
Ocala was just ahead. There was no way Thad wanted to drive through it during the day. Ocala was a major population center, the only one he had to go through to get home. If there was going to be any trouble, it would be there. This stretch of the interstate was bordered by pastures for the most part. Ocala is well known for the horse ranches that are all over the area. Driving along, he kept his eyes open for some trees. If he could find a good hiding place, he could lay up for the rest of the day—moving again after dark to try to get through town.
A few miles past his little incident, Thad found what he was looking for on the northbound side. He crossed over under another overpass and drove off the shoulder of the northbound lane. There was a fence along the interstate. Pulling up to it, he stopped the truck and got out—his shotty in one hand and his Gerber multitool in the other. Standing in the open driver’s door, he took a minute to do a look ’n’ listen. Satisfied there wasn’t anyone in the immediate area; he went up to the fence, cut the field wire at one of the posts and pulled it back out of the way. Climbing back in, he drove the truck through and parked it under the trees.
After shutting the truck off, Thad climbed out; digging around in the bed of the truck, he found a piece of baling wire and took it out to the fence, where he used it to secure the fence so anyone taking a casual look wouldn’t notice it was cut. Back at the truck, Thad walked around the area under the trees to make sure no surprises were waiting. Finding nothing, he went back to the truck and looked at the windshield. It was shattered, and there was a dent where the glass met the roof. He stood there looking at it, shaking his head. Going to the rear of the truck, he dropped the tailgate and sat down, grabbing his pack to find something to eat and drink some water.
Rummaging around, he pulled out an MRE and one of his water bottles. Sitting there, he ate the MRE cold and washed it down with water. Picking up his pack, Thad moved over to a clump of brush to rest. He didn’t want to be right at the truck in case someone came by to take a look. With the key in his pocket, he wasn’t worried about anyone stealing it. Thad pulled his poncho out and spread it on the ground and laid down on it, cradling the shotgun in his arms. Lying there with his eyes closed, he started to think of home and how much farther he had to go.
• • •
Once the three guys were secured with flex cuffs, Mike and Ted began their interrogation; they were not very forthcoming. Mike sat down on the ground in front of them as Ted went through their gear, looking for intelligence. All three were wearing MultiCam uniforms like the one he wore. Two of them were younger, late twenties, and looked like gamer types. The third was a little older and had a military bearing about him; he was the one Mike started to question.
“You guys looking for us?” Mike asked.
“You didn’t think we would just forget about you guys, did you?” he answered with a grin.
“Why are they so worried about us?” Mike asked.
“Oh, we’re not worried about you guys. We figure there will be plenty of your boys that won’t go with the program. That’s why we’re here, to keep the riffraff in line.” Again with that stupid grin.
“Well, you seem awful sure of yourself for someone in cuffs. You guys were so easy to take down that a kindergarten class could have done it.” Now Mike had a grin. Ted laughed over his shoulder. Mr. Confidence looked over at his compatriots. He obviously wasn’t pleased to be in this situation.
“We’re not all this easy. If I had my way, you assholes would’ve been dead by now,” he answered with a sneer.
“That wouldn’t have been as easy as you think there, sport,” Ted replied over his shoulder.
The other two guys were just sitting there. One of them was a light-skinned black guy; the other was Hispanic of some variety. “Getting a little real for you boys, huh?” Ted said to them. They just sat there, not saying anything. “What was the point of this little sneak ’n’ peek?” Ted asked, elbowing one of them in the shoulder as he said it.
“They aren’t going to tell you fuckers anything. They know better,” Mr. Confidence said.
“You may not tell us, but I know someone you will talk to.” Mike stood up and pulled his Surefire Aviator from the pocket on his sleeve and stepped out to the edge of the river. Pointing it toward the house, he flashed it once, paused, and then three times in rapid succession. Two flashes came back to him, and, a few minutes later, he heard the old outboard on Sarge’s boat sputter to life and start to move toward them.
Ted stood up after going through all the packs. “Oh, you guys are in a world of shit now,” he said. Going over to his pack, he pulled out three croaker sacks. “Let’s get you boys dressed for the party.” He quickly pulled a bag over the heads of the two gamer kids. “Smells like shit, huh?” he said as he moved over to put one on Mr. Confidence.
“You ain’t putting that fucking thing on my head!” he shouted. He had his chin stuck out in a futile attempt at indignation.
Ted drew his 1911 and rapped him in the side of the head. “Play nice, or I’ll hurt ya.” The blow dazed him enough that Ted pulled the bag over without any trouble.
“You fuckers are dead!” Mr. C shouted through the bag.
“Better than you have tried and failed, friend. Better’n you,” Mike said.
“These our dates?” Sarge said as he climbed up the bank from the river.
“Yeah. Aren’t they purdy?” Ted said, laying on a thick southern drawl.
That was more than the young black guy could take; he started to scream through the bag, “What the fuck? What the fuck are you going to do to us? We were just sent here to look for you guys. We didn’t do anything to you!”
“Shut the fuck up! They aren’t going to do anything to you,” Mr. Confidence shouted through his sack.
Linus knelt down to get on their level. “Son, you are wrong about that. I have a bunch of things planned for you boys. I learned a bunch of real interesting shit in places like Vietnam, the Big Sand Box, and a few less tropical hellholes. You better believe I will do things to you. What I do is completely up to you, though.”
The prisoners were loaded up and taken back to the house along with all their gear. The area was sterilized, ensuring nothing was left behind. Getting them in and out of the boat was a little difficult. The hide was above the river about four feet. Mr. Confidence didn’t want to cooperate with going down to the river, so Sarge just pushed him down the hill; he tumbled asshole over teacup, landing in the shallow water at the river’s edge. He was cussing for all he was worth. Linus was laughing at him. “Shut up; I’ll only say it once.”
“When our people get here, I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to make it hurt,” he sneered through the bag. Sarge reached into the big johnboat and picked up the club he kept there for braining gar. Sarge hit him just above his left ear, not real hard but just enough to make it smart real bad. He let out a cry.
Sarge replied with, “Told you I would only say it once.”
The other two managed to find their way into the boat without too much trouble. At the dock behind the house, everyone managed to get out of the boat without incident. Ted and Sarge led them to the garage, while Mike and Ronnie took all their gear into the comm cave for a thorough search. The garage was already prepped for their arrival; three pieces of rope hung from the joists overhead. Their hands were secured in the front, so it was easy to raise them above their head and put them through the loops. This was done one at a time, so that they had to stand on their tiptoes to support their body weight.
During all this, Mr. Confidence cursed and threatened them. Once, he tried a forward kick at Ted, who blocked it and, raising the leg, struck him in the crotch with an open hand, using the web of his hand to drive his captive’s nuts into his chest. He got real docile after that, letting out a groan, while hanging from the rope secured over his head. The other two babbled a mile a minute; they were obviously terrified.
Sarge stepped back and looked at them. “Well, are you boys comfy? Can I get you anything?”
The two young guys started running their mouths. “What do you want? We don’t know anything. What are you going to do to us?” were a few of things that came out between sobs.
“They look too comfortable to me,” Ted said. He stepped toward them and unbuckled the Spanish kid’s pants and pulled them and his skivvies down to the top of his boots.
“What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing!” he screamed.
Ted went down the line doing the same to the other two. When he got to Mr. Confidence, he laughed. “I didn’t think the water was that cold.”
“You are one sick man,” Sarge said, shaking his head. “But I like it. Now don’t you boys go anywhere. I’ll be back.”
They went back into the house to help Mike and Ronnie go through the gear for anything that could help. Sarge was laughing as they walked in, and Mike looked up and said, “What?” Sarge told them what Ted had done. Mike and Ronnie both started laughing.
“Yeah, we learned that from some Israelis we did some interrogations with once. It always seems to have a profound effect. Only they would have some poor bastard tied to a chair and just unzip him and pull his pecker out. Scares the shit out of ’em.” He was shaking his head and laughing.
• • •
Studying my map for a minute, I realized there was a huge obstacle in front of me. The Oklawaha River was only ten or twelve miles away, and I should easily hit it tonight. There was only one way across it that I knew of, and that was the bridge at Highway 40 to my south. This posed a serious dilemma. If I continued forward, I had uninterrupted forest. Detour south to hit the bridge, and I would be in a more populated area, not to mention the fact that I had no idea what the situation was like at the bridge. It would be a natural choke point to keep people in the Ocala area from entering the forest. The locals in the forest considered it their private little camp; tens of thousands used the land, but they looked upon those perceived intruders with quite a bit of umbrage.
Knowing what the river was like, I knew I wouldn’t be able to cross it without a boat. It wasn’t too wide, but it was fairly deep and was bordered on both sides by a substantial swamp; that alone would be tough to get through. Letting my eye wander around the map, another option jumped out at me. The bridge on 316 at Fort McCoy crossed the river farther north, closer to me. It wasn’t a main artery like 40, which runs all the way to Ormond Beach, and might be easier to cross. That was the way I’d head. Maybe I could get over that one, plus it was closer to being in my line of travel.
With the decision made, I folded the map back up into its bag and stuck it in my pocket. Setting out again without much to do but think, my mind started wandering again, drifting from Thad and how he was doing, to Sarge and the guys and what prompted them to bug out, to home and my girls. Home—Lord, how I wanted to be home. The throbbing in my hand caught my attention. Checking it, I saw and felt the swelling that was starting. It wasn’t much, but my fingers felt tight. I took a quick break to get out some Benadryl; maybe it would help to counteract the sting. After taking the pills, I started out again for Fort McCoy.
• • •
Thad snoozed in his little hide, waiting for the sun to drop. He didn’t really sleep; it was more of an in-between state, not fully conscious but not out. This was a thing he did often when driving his truck. If he started to feel particularly sleepy, he would pull over, set the alarm on his phone for twenty minutes, and snooze. The boost this gave him was great; sometimes it felt like he slept for hours. Sitting up, he looked around. No one was in sight. The truck was right where he left it. Packing his gear, he tossed the pack into the passenger seat, took a leak by the driver’s door, and walked out to the fence he had cut. Undoing the piece of baling wire, he pulled it back out of the way and rolled the piece of wire up and went back to the truck.
Sitting in the cab, he dug around in the pack and pulled out a pack of MRE crackers and a pouch of peanut butter. He sat there as the sun dropped, eating his snack and drinking some water from the bottle. He wanted it to be completely dark before leaving. Ideally, he would wait until late at night, but he wanted to get home, and Ocala was in his way. He would have to cross three major intersections, Highways 27, 40, and then 200. These were all major roads with a lot of businesses at the exits. Being on the west side of Ocala, it was also where the trouble would be. If he could just clear those, he would be all right.
Knowing he had to do something, or he would leave, Thad decided to set up the radio. Pulling the antenna out, he tossed it up over the tallest oak he could find and connected it to the radio. Pulling out the notebook, he flipped through the pages until he came to today’s codes. Sitting there, going through the book, he remembered the last transmission and what Morgan had said, no transmissions for twenty-four hours. Thad had tossed his watch shortly after the event since it didn’t work. He should have been on the radio around three. Looking up, he knew it was more like six thirty or seven; he missed it.
Since the radio was set up, he started to flip through the frequencies. His antenna set was less than ideal. Running at a long slope, it was better for catching local talk. Being more horizontal, it would pick up transmissions that bounced straight down. Turning the knob, he found someone transmitting. It sounded like he was in Beirut; there was constant gunfire in the background. The operator was shouting into the radio to what Thad guessed was others in his party. They were trying to maneuver on some people that were attacking their location; he didn’t know if these were the good guys or the bad guys.
Listening to the radio chatter, he finally realized the transmissions were coming from Ybor City, in Tampa. Just as he figured things would be in that old city, it sounded like hell. Any town that has an intersection called Malfunction Junction has to be on the edge of crazy, and it finally got the nudge it needed to fall off that edge. Thad sat there listening to the radio; his heart was heavy. Thad’s wife, son, and mother were nowhere near the chaos he heard on the radio, but it was too close for him; he couldn’t take any more. Shutting off the radio, he disconnected the antenna and pulled it down. After tossing it back onto the floorboard, he went to the bed and pulled the two five-gallon gas cans out and started pouring them into the tank of the truck.
• • •
Sarge was laying all the documents they found on the three goons on one of the tables in the shack. Mike and Ted were going over them, piecing what they could together. Sarge walked out of the room toward the garage. Inside he found them still hanging there. The two young guys were just standing there, chins on their chest. Mr. Confidence was working on the rope. Just as Linus came through the door, Mr. Confidence landed on the deck; he had jumped up in an attempt to loosen the rope. It didn’t work. All three of them looked up as he came through the door.
“You still full of piss ’n’ vinegar?” Sarge said as he closed the door. “Let’s see if we can take some of that out of you boys.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them, blowing into his cupped hands. “Getting cold in here. From the looks of you boys, you’re a little chilly.” Sarge went out the side door of the garage and returned with a hose.
“What the hell are you doing?” the young black kid asked. “You haven’t asked us anything. What do you want?” The only sound they heard was Sarge’s boots and the hose sliding across the concrete slab of the garage.
“We’ll get to that soon enough. I just want to make sure you boys are motivated to answer them when I ask ’em,” Sarge replied. He pointed the hose at them and started to spray them down with cold water. All of them tried to turn to avoid getting hit in the face with the water. This only presented Sarge with a dry spot to hose down. All three of them shouted and shrieked when the cold water hit. When he was satisfied they were soaked, he released the lever on the nozzle and stood there looking at them. “Y’all look like a bunch of damn d
rowned rats.”
From the level of bitching, Sarge was pretty sure the prisoners were miserable. Going back into the house, he found the guys in the cave going over the captured intel. The men they caught were DHS goons sent to find them. Shortly after they ceased radio contact, these three were sent to look for them. The documents contained maps of the area, clearly showing their infiltration and exfiltration routes along with alternatives. Sarge’s house was prominently marked on the map, so that meant that others knew the location.
A quick discussion resulted in the unanimous decision to bug out. Staying there was a guaranteed way to get caught. Not knowing when the crew they had was scheduled to call in, caution dictated that they leave as soon as possible. Sarge instructed the guys in what to start packing; the radio gear was the highest priority, then weapons, food, and additional survival gear. As they started moving gear out to the living room, Sarge headed for the garage. “Let me go see what they have to say. Two of them seem eager to talk.”
The temp outside was in the upper fifties, comfortable. But inside the block walls of the garage, it was much colder. The concrete floor and poured block walls held the cold inside, acting like a meat locker. All three were still hanging there, shivering violently; hypothermia was starting its course. Linus walked in and stood in front of them. “Now, I’m going to ask you boys some questions. If you answer them, I’ll take you down and get you warmed up, and no harm will come to you. If you want to be dumb asses and try to be tough guys, you will suffer.” He reached down and picked up the hose. This caused the two younger members of the team to start to whine and mutter through chattering teeth. Starting with the young Spanish kid on the end, pulling the sack off, he started his questions.