by Ray Wench
Fifty-Three
Movement woke Myron. One of the other boys sleeping in the rooms above the garage was getting dressed. Myron couldn’t remember the boy’s name. So much had happened over the last two days. After being alone for so long, being with all these people overwhelmed him. He’d never had friends before and expected it wouldn’t take long for the derogatory comments and bullying to begin.
Not having anyone around to remind him of what a geek he was had been a blessing. But now, in the midst of these people, who so far had been nice to him, Myron couldn’t shake the old feelings.
Maybe he should leave. Then the vision of Becca drifted through his mind. He wanted to be near her. Maybe she would go with him. But why would she? What was he to her? Eventually, she would see him for the geek he was. No, he’d leave alone. She probably wouldn’t even know he was gone.
The other boy looked at him and smiled. “Time to rise and shine, buddy. You can’t sleep the day away around here. There’s a bathroom downstairs. Breakfast will be served in about thirty minutes. Don’t be late.” He went over and shook two other boys awake, laughing at them as he did. Then he left, his footsteps pounding down the steps.
Myron sat on the edge of his fold-up bed. His roommates stirred and stretched. They each greeted him. They seemed nice, but Myron remained wary.
In the bathroom, he washed his face and looked at the stranger he saw in the mirror. His face was thinner. His hair was very long and he had a beard. He looked like a wild animal. Becca could never like him. At least not the way he wanted her to.
He walked outside. The sun was just rising. People were moving all around the grounds. He stood, watching, not sure what he should do.
“Hey!” The boy from upstairs motioned for him.
Myron walked over.
“Can you give me a hand moving this table? There are so many people here, we’ll need the extra seating.”
“Ah, sure.” Myron latched on to the end and the two boys moved the heavy picnic table in line with the others.
The other boy came toward him. “Thanks. I’m Caleb. Welcome to the madness.” He stuck out his hand. His smile looked sincere.
Myron accepted it. “Myron.”
“Nice to meet you, Myron. Sounds like you had an exciting day yesterday.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess? Dude, the way I hear it, you rescued Mark’s kids. You’re being modest.”
Myron warmed at the praise, but didn’t know how to respond.
Caleb began walking toward a large fire pit. Myron followed. The taller boy picked up some split logs and Myron bent to help.
“Thanks,” Caleb said. “Pitching in around here is important. We all try to help each other.”
The two boys deposited the wood in the pit. Caleb arranged it and then grabbed a pile of small dried twigs and leaves and dumped them under the firewood. Using a long-handled lighter, Caleb lit the twigs and bent to blow on the small flame.
Myron, having built fires when he was a boy scout, picked up a long stick and poked at the flames to move them around under the firewood. Minutes later the larger pieces lit and the fire grew.
“It’ll catch logs now. Help me lift the grate.”
They lifted a large heavy steel circle that fitted onto four iron legs driven into the ground around the pit. The door to the house opened, and an attractive woman came down the stairs carrying two large bowls. She set them down on a small table next the fire.
She came forward, smiled at Myron, and gave a hug and kiss to Caleb.
“Mom, this is Myron. He’s been helping me.”
Caleb’s mom turned her smile toward him and shook his hand. “Welcome, Myron. I’m Lynn. Thanks for helping out. Can you two go inside and bring out the pots and pans?”
“Sure, Mom. This way, Myron.”
When the meal was ready and everyone was seated, one man stood and said a prayer. Then the food was passed. Myron was suddenly very hungry.
Lynn stood and said, “For the new people, we are happy to have you here. Just remember a lot of people have to be fed with what I have on the table so be courteous. And for the benefit of those new to the group, let’s go around the table and introduce yourselves, please. I’m Lynn.” She sat down.
Caleb said his name and passed a bowl of biscuits to Myron.
“I’m Myron.”
Everyone said hi, and Caleb added, “And he’s a good worker.”
Myron looked down the line of tables and back up the other side. Becca was not there. A knot formed in his stomach. Her father and brother were gone as well. Maybe they had left. He might never see her again. He stopped eating and stared at his plate.
Lynn broke him from his thoughts. “Are you all right, Myron?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
But if Becca was gone he was anything but.
Fifty-Four
“I think we’ve seen enough,” Mark said. They had been watching the base for three hours from different positions. The inhabitants were genuinely operating as a military base. They lined up for calisthenics, which everyone, including officers, took part in. The only exceptions were the guards. Mark took the opportunity to get a head count. He frowned long and hard as he reached a total of fifty-eight bodies, counting guards and the watcher in the control tower. That didn’t include anyone still in a building someplace.
Exercising done, the men and some women went back inside the barracks. Fifteen minutes later, they strolled out in their combat fatigues. They entered another building Mark thought might be the mess tent.
Mark switched to a new location and waited.
With mess over, the troops went about their daily assignments, most of which revolved around the fighter jets.
There were no longer guards in front of the building being used as a prison, so Juan was not being held there. Mark was down to three possible buildings where Juan could be. The hard part would be getting him out of there.
The airport stretched a long way to the west. There was no sign of anyone guarding the far end of the runways. The tarmac made the entire area too wide open to use an approach. No one could cross that much ground without being spotted.
One of the possible holding places for Juan was the larger building next to the cell. The other two were across the way, next to the barracks and mess buildings. Unable to come up with a plan, they crept back into the woods.
Voices made Mark freeze. He whispered to the kids, “You wait here. Keep alert.” From there he crawled forward. Two uniformed men were stringing razor wire along the top of the fence. It would be more difficult getting inside now, but not impossible.
Mark crept farther down the line of fencing. When he reached the spot where the fence turned south, he stopped. How long would it take them to get this far with the razor wire? Entry there would be too risky.
To his left, past the woodpile, were four fresh mounds of dirt. Graves. They’d lost four comrades. The burials were recent. If the army thought Mark and friends had killed those four comrades, the soldiers would not stop until they found them.
Mark was about to give up when he remembered the promise he made to Maria. He had to find a way. Perhaps the other side of the base would offer a solution.
As he was about to rejoin the kids, there was a sudden burst of activity on the base. An officer was yelling orders and soldiers were moving at a rapid pace. They ran to the trucks and began loading into two of them, eight men in each, plus the officer and two drivers. Nineteen men were moving off on some important mission. What would cause them to move with such urgency?
Adrenaline surged through him. The officer had gone into a building and come back dragging Juan by the arm.
Fifty-Five
Making more noise than he wanted, Mark reached the kids. “Let’s go! Fast!”
If Juan had talked, as Mark feared, the two trucks could be on their way to the farmhouse. He increased his speed.
They piled into the truck and raced off. There was no
time for caution. He cursed himself for not thinking to bring one of the two-way radios.
Without looking, Mark shot across Airport Highway. There was no time to check for pursuit.
The pickup was flying along the roads at a speed that made its entire body shake. The turn Mark made was so wide, they almost collided with a house. Without slowing, he regained the road and continued at a deadly pace.
One more turn put them on the road that led home. He braked hard at the corner and tore up the driveway, scattering the community doing their post-breakfast cleanup.
Leaving the engine running, Mark jumped out. “Everyone get armed and take cover. Caleb, I want rifles in the windows over the garage. Zac, you handle setting up downstairs in the garage. I need people in the upper portion of the barn. Lynn, organize the house’s defense. And no one fires unless I give the word.”
Lincoln was running across the street buckling his pants. “What’s going on?”
“Go get Jenny and bring her here. I think the army is on its way here.”
“Shit!” He took off like he was sprinting for the goal line.
“What do you need us to do?” Bobby asked.
Mark looked at Bobby’s rifle. “Are you any good with that thing?”
“You taught me.”
“Then I need you in that loft.” He pointed toward the barn. “If you see me signal, you take out the officer.”
Bobby nodded.
“Becca, go with him.”
“Dad, I can fight as good as Bobby.”
“And that’s why I need you with him. He’ll be a target. Snipers will control the ground. They’ll try to take him out. He’ll need you to protect him.”
She studied his face to see the lie for what it was, but ran off anyway.
Mark went inside, poured a cup of cold coffee, and drank it with a shaking hand.
The trucks engines announced their approach a long way off. Mark put on his game face. Once again it was time to face down the devil.
Fifty-Six
“Remember,” he shouted, “no one shoot unless they start.” Mark gave a last look at Lynn, met her eyes, and walked outside.
He stood with a gun in his hand and waited. The first truck started past the house, braked, and stopped. An arm extended out the window and signaled to the second truck. The officer was smart. He was separating his force and flanking Mark.
Mark waited in the open. Several minutes later, a truck turned up the driveway, moving slowly. The man in charge was giving his troops a chance to get into position. A side glance showed soldiers hiding in the long line of pine trees bordering the road along the side of the house.
The chill up his spine let him know many weapons were now aimed at him.
Mark walked forward, not so much to meet the truck as to put the house between him and the soldiers in the trees. The fewer people with a line-of-sight on him, the better chance he would have to survive.
He waited for the officer to decide it was safe enough for him to step out of the truck. Instead, the officer poked his head out and ordered, “Drop your gun or I will order my men to shoot.”
Mark stood there. Eight men lined up in front of the truck with their rifles aimed at him.
Mark lifted his left arm over his head. From every window in the three buildings a gun now protruded. The soldiers took note and some shifted their aim toward the house.
The two men whose eyes did not waver from him were the real soldiers. If a gun fight broke out, those would be his first targets. If the others didn’t spook and run, Mark would be dead.
A very tense standoff had developed. No one moved, but a few soldiers glanced at the truck. The officer stepped out of the truck and advanced toward Mark.
He stopped a few feet away and sized Mark up. Mark didn’t bother doing the same. He’d been in the Marines. To him, all officers were the same.
“I’m General West. I’m in charge of the combined forces of the 180th Air National Guard and several National Guard divisions and Army Reserve units. We are here to arrest a murderer or group murderers, as the case may be. I am authorized by—”
“You’re looking in the wrong place, General. We have not injured your people.”
“You broke suspects out of my base. That makes you guilty of violating several federal laws.”
“You were holding innocent people against their will. If there were a federal government, that would be illegal as well.”
“I am the federal government in these parts. That makes me the law. You will hand the prisoners over to us and surrender yourself.”
“That’s not going to happen. These are innocent people. American people, who are struggling to survive just like the rest of the country. We do not kill for no reason. If you had come to us in a more friendly manner, we would’ve accepted you and treated you like friends.”
“Be that as it may, you have suspects that we weren’t through questioning.”
“Yeah, I saw firsthand your interrogation techniques. You can’t beat confessions out of people. Find evidence and convict them. I know you’re upset about losing your men, but that doesn’t make everyone else a killer.”
“No,” West shouted, “but it makes them suspects.”
“I’m telling you for the last time, you’re looking in the wrong place.”
The general paced to the side two steps. “You know I have more than enough firepower to wipe out everyone here.”
“Although that may be true, you wouldn’t be the first tyrant we’ve dealt with. I promise, before it ended, you would be down a lot of men.”
“You’d die first.”
Mark shook his head “By the time you gave the signal, you’d be dead. I have a sniper targeting you.”
West’s eyes flicked around. When he found the perch, his eyes narrowed.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, General. If you’re the law here, we’re American citizens. We’re who you’re here to protect. Hasn’t there been enough death?”
“I want to talk to the prisoners. If they are innocent, as you claim, I will let them go. However, you have many men here who I will induct into the army. As Americans, it is their duty to protect this land.”
“No one is going with you to be interrogated or pressed into service. I can vouch for these people. If someone wants to volunteer to serve, that’s up to them. But it should be their choice, not yours.”
“Again, I could force you. I have trained soldiers on your women and children. Are you willing to risk their lives?”
“I’ve seen your men, and I’m not impressed. You have some soldiers, but the others were probably people like us that you forced to join. My people are not trained, which means the longer we stand here, the more likely one of them accidentally pulls the trigger and a war begins. However it comes out, neither one of us will know.”
The general stepped forward, his anger apparent from the redness of his face. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with here. There are things going on beyond your knowledge or understanding. My job is to protect this country and the people who are still alive – but first I have to be able to protect my men – and I can’t do that if they get gutted while trying to do their jobs.”
“I can’t say I know what you’re talking about, but I do know we did not kill your men. Unless threatened by your people, mine would not have hurt yours.”
The two men stood no more than a foot apart, glaring at each other. The staredown lasted for anxious seconds. Then the rumble of a vehicle broke their connection. An armed jeep pulled up next to the truck. The gunner swung his weapon toward Mark. A wave of fear swept over him, not so much for himself as for those he was trying to protect.
A sneer crept across the General’s face. “I think the balance of power was just upended.”
“Nothing has changed. You and I will die in the first shots. Your men will die. My people will die. In the end, no one gets what they want, and your army will be severely weakened. Whatever you have been training your soldie
rs to do will not get done. In fact, I would guess most of them will disband and go their own ways.”
West’s jaw worked back and forth with furious movements. “You don’t understand the importance of what I do. You will destroy whatever is left of America.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand, but you’re the one who will destroy whatever your plan is. Go away and leave us alone.”
“I will come back with more men. I will lay siege to your compound and wear you down. Eventually I will get my way.”
The words echoed in Mark’s head.
Fifty-Seven
Myron watched the exchange from the dining room window. He had a handgun pointed at the ground near the men who stood by the truck. His stomach churned. The others appeared so brave, standing ready to fire on the soldiers. They were willing to protect their community, knowing they may die doing it.
Myron’s hand shook at the thought of killing someone. He rested the gun on the window sill so no one else would see how scared he was.
The words spoken in the driveway drifted to his ears. They were faint, but he could hear most of what was said. Then the officer stepped closer to Mark and started shouting. Things were about to escalate.
He swallowed hard, trying to choke down his fear. His breathing had become rapid and shallow. Myron closed his eyes and tried to find the courage he’d had when rescuing Becca. The thought of her and the image that danced before his eyes calmed him.
That was shattered when he saw the jeep pull up. The bloody corpses by the woods replaced Becca’s features. His fear increased to mind-numbing panic. His bladder threatened to release again, but he squeezed tight. Tears seeped out. There was no way of controlling the gun now. It rattled noisily on the wooden sill.
Myron pulled from the window and leaned against the wall. The others in the room turned to look at him. The woman in charge, Lynn, ran to the window and pushed out a rifle. She looked at Myron. Then she reached out with a gentle hand and stroked his arm.
“We’ll be all right, Myron. Just take some deep breaths, okay? I’m scared too, but a lot of people are, and they are all counting on everyone else for support and strength. That’s how families survive. And you’re part of our family now. We’re going to need you.”