by Chris Hechtl
Walker grunted. “I'm starting to regret not playing dumb for longer and going along with it,” he said as he made a show of rubbing his wounded arm.
“Did you get hurt in the altercation?” the anchor asked, voice dripping with concern as she eyed the bandage. “Do you need medical aid?”
“Oh, what this?” Walker asked, brandishing the wound for the camera to see better. “No, this happened when I went to town. We were unloading the produce, and I brought a load in the store. A woman jumped me and cuffed me to the railing,” he said, shaking his head. He held up his right wrist where it too was bandaged. “They tried to tie me up, but I broke free and got away with Kelly.”
“Kelly …”
“The young lady that I took into town with me. Anyway, she and I were driving off when that nut job lady started shooting up our truck. The one shooting her mouth off about the bounty she was supposed to get for my hide.”
“A Miss Trixie Norbert?” the anchor asked. “She is after the reward for, um, reporting um …”
“Ah, yes, her. She shot me and shot my truck up,” he said with a grimace, secretly gleeful that the woman might get into trouble over it. “Her and her friends chased us through hill and dale. We lost them by abandoning the truck and walking home,” he sighed.
There was a sharp yip and then Billy bent to pick up a puppy. The floppy eared pup made a growling noise as the boy hugged him, then looked up and started to wash his face eagerly with his tongue. Billy giggled, trying to dodge the tongue. Josh shook his head, but his stern face cracked into a smile.
“That must have been quite the ordeal,” the anchor said, voice dripping with sympathy. “For all of you,” she said, nodding to the family in the background.
“Stress is a part and parcel of life. Better get used to it or get a stock of ulcer meds,” he laughed. “I want your viewers to understand, we're patriots too—life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We've been doing our part for the community even though they didn't know it. Sending in food, power, parts, that sort of thing. Paying our taxes like honest citizens. All we ask is to be left alone. To live the American dream and enjoy our freedom. In the past couple of years, some jackasses have forgotten that. Think about it. Signing off,” he said with a jaunty salute.
Jill, Josh, and Billy murmured their goodbyes to the startled anchor before Walker reached out and cut the news feed.
======+======
“Ma'am, this …,” an aide came in pointing to the TV.
“Don't bother me; I'm trying to get more agents on the scene,” the director snarled, waving a hand to the distracting slip of a woman.
“No, ma'am, sorry; you need to see this,” the aide said hurriedly.
The director snarled as she looked up at the agent. The young woman turned the vidscreen on to NBC. The director watched the interview with Walker and snarled, face turning red with rage as the agent quickly retreated.
======+======
A Miss Alverez, the negotiator, arrived on scene and took off her jacket as she entered the sheriff's office. “So what kind of fracked up situation do we have here?” she shook hands with the agents and then hesitantly the sheriff. “I want it known, I'm in charge of the negotiations. No one moves without my authority,” she stated as she turned on the agent and then the sheriff. They nodded in unison.
“Okay, first thing we need to assess the situation and shut off their utilities. That way I have a negotiating chip to use to bargain with,” the woman said, straight from the playbook. The sheriff couldn't help herself; she chuckled.
“Is something funny, Sheriff? And why the generator?” Miss Alverez demanded, pointing to the offending device in the corner.
“Well, they are on a farm. They actually power us not the other way around,” Casey explained. She waved to the deputy trying to rig extension cords to handle the extra computers and lighting.
The newcomer blinked in confusion. “They do? How? How is that possible?” the negotiator asked.
Casey shrugged. “Wind, solar, hydroelectric, and biodiesel. Take your pick. I have found out it is all of the above.”
Miss Alverez made a moue. “Oh, ah, I, um, didn't know that,” she fumbled, clearly off balance. She was used to being in control of the situation, in using such luxuries to barter for what she wanted. That was one card taken away from her. In fact it was being used against her side! She grimaced as another thought struck her. They had cut off contact at the gorge. “I take it water is out too then?” she asked carefully. The sheriff nodded. “There are rivers on their borders and of course wells. They are totally self-sufficient.”
“So we're in a siege. We have to starve them out?” the negotiator asked, settling her thought processes into a long drawn-out campaign. She could hope it would be over soon, but the other side seemed prepared and entrenched mentally and physically. The sheriff shook her head again, giving her a momentary flair of hope. It quickly faded though.
“Nope. They live on a farm, remember? They grow all their own food and most of the food for the surrounding area. About a hundred square miles are dependent on them.”
“Ah. Hmm …,” the negotiator said, then sat. “Yes, this is quite a mess,” she said finally. The agent and sheriff exchanged a look. “Do we have a hostage count?” she asked.
The agents looked around, then shook her head. “No, none or all of them, take your pick.”
“They want the males in the group,” Casey said pointing to the agents. “It seems the men aren't willing to be sex slaves. I dunno why,” she said sarcastically. “Maybe they didn't pitch it right. All you can eat, drugged to the gills, locked in cages, beaten, tortured, and raped daily twice on Sundays. Gee, what's not to like?” the sheriff asked.
“That's enough,” the lead agent said quietly.
“Yes, that's enough negativity,” the negotiator said shaken. “Really! It is for their own protection!”
“Riiggght,” Casey drawled, crossing her arms. “Go ahead. Try telling them that it is all for their own good. Surrender their liberties to be slaves, and it will be all right. They ain't buying into it, lady,” the sheriff said shaking her head.
======+======
“Are you listening to this?” Eric asked, one hand to his headset. They had shotgun microphones set up along the perimeter. The audio traps were on the lookout for intruders, but they also caught some of the conversations on the other side of the river from time to time. It took a bit of processing though to filter out the water noise.
What he was referring to Benny realized was the little drone he'd somehow gotten into a tree above the headquarters tent the sheriff and agent had set up. “They are talking about food. Talking about spraying us with DDT or something,” Eric said.
“Greenhouses,” Benny said with a sniff. “At least for some stuff. It wouldn't do the trees and bushes a lick of good.”
“Or the pastures or fields neither,” Eric agreed. “And now something about nutrition and citrus,” he said with a shake of his head. “Something about rickets?”
“They are thinking we're gonna need some citrus products to keep from getting sick,” Benny sniffed. “I guess they didn't notice the berry bushes or the fruit grove in the northeast quarter,” he drawled.
“Apparently not.”
“You recording that?”
“Yeah. Should we let on that we're listening?”
“What do you think?” Benny asked in disgust with a northeastern drawl. He shook his head as Eric grimaced. “Never, ever let the enemy know you are listening in. Not unless it is to your advantage,” he said.
“Understood.”
“Keep on listening. I'll go check in with the perimeter then come back to relieve you.”
“Ayeup.”
======+======
Sheriff Casey knocked down the negotiator's plans one by one. Finally Miss Alverez talked her into seeing if they could get a welfare check in. “Did anyone try the IRS angle? You said they are into the community. Could we guilt t
hem into something?”
“I doubt it.”
“Make the call. It doesn't hurt to try,” Miss Alverez ordered. “And I'll have you introduce me when I feel the time is right,” she stated.
Casey eyed her and then slowly nodded. She knew the other woman had more experience with such situations and would push her out. She was reluctant to go, but she had other obligations. She couldn't put all her … her woman power, she thought with a wry twist of her lips, on the siege.
“Lost Sheep, you listening?” she drawled.
The sheriff was talked into going into the compound to do a welfare check. She pitched it flatly to Walker who immediately declined her half-hearted attempt to get in past his defenses. “There is no need,” Walker replied. “We are fine.”
“No offense, but that arm needs tending to. And you showed the video of Billy getting shot, so Health and Welfare want to make sure he's recovered,” Casey said, knowing she was on thin ice. “And there is a bit of muttering here about accounting, back taxes and all.”
“Oh boy. Bring the IRS into this why don't you? As if you don't have enough agencies on your payroll. Lovely,” Walker growled. “Let me point out. We've paid our taxes for the past ten years; everything is up-to-date,” he stated flatly.
Stymied on that score they tried to use ATF and then a warrant to search the premises.
“Why don't you just have me order him to surrender because of that damn law? Like it is doing any good. You know you are just pissing him off,” Casey growled in exasperation when Walker balked.
“Go back to the welfare check. Play him,” the negotiator urged. “He may be open to it now that he's completely shot you down. Pout a bit.”
“I'll agree to the welfare check with some conditions,” Walker said, surprising them. They didn't know he was listening in to them. Eric had dropped his UAV listener onto the tree above and cycled it regularly. Each looked like a local hawk so they wouldn't be noticed. Benny had upped the ante by breaking out and then focusing their own infrared surveillance gear on the building and surrounding area.
He forced them to agree to his terms. It had to be an impartial one, as long as there was full disclosure of the male prison facilities and they could not see the farm's perimeter or interior defenses. They would go in without weapons. “The welfare check will be done with a video crew but not live. We will screen the video before allowing you to have it,” he warned. “I don't see the point of this,” he said, sounding doubtful.
Casey talked to Walker on the radio. He couldn't help it; he smiled when she finally finished beating around the bush and got to the point. “Let's see if I got this right. You want to see if we're kissing cousins? Sorry to disappoint you but we're not quite that redneck,” he chuckled. She snorted then giggled, letting go of the transmitter button.
The agents and negotiator stared balefully at her. The negotiator motions to the microphone. “Good, you got him joking. Good, good! It is a good beginning,” she said. “Build on that,” she urged.
The sheriff shook her head and hit the transmit button again. “So, you don't mind a cook’s tour?” she asked with a hopeful, suggestive lilt to her voice. She hoped she had the right spin on her voice. She felt like a traitor though. Her feelings were becoming increasingly mixed and muddied. She no longer knew which side to root for and knew that was a bad sign. “For our own piece of mind, of course,” she said.
“And too, of course, get a head count. To also see where people are, numbers, doors, a general layout, where windows are, resources on hand, weapons, that sort of thing. You know that they can get all that with an infrared scan,” he said in amusement. She looked at the agents with a raised eyebrow. They looked startled then guilty.
“Um, ah …,” she stalled, at a loss for words.
He snorted. “What, you think just because I worked as a military subcontractor I didn't know this?” he asked with another laugh. “Casey, I've known they were doing it from the moment we were a blip,” he smiled, “and yes, I've taken precautions.”
“That sounds ominous,” she replied cautiously.
He chuckled for a moment. “Let's just say they are seeing what I want them to see. Take it as that and move on.”
“It's good that he's letting us hear him. He's opening up a bit, relaxing. Keep him talking,” the negotiator urged quietly, taking notes on a pad of paper. She seemed pleased by the slight opening.
“Take it as you get it, I guess,” Walker rumbled, cutting the woman off. “Right now your negotiator is operating under the Polish hostage protocols,” he stated. The negotiator blinked and paled at that. “Ayeup, I've got that playbook too, sweetheart,” he said maliciously. “We've got some former SWAT people in here too, ex-military as well … you know what, sure. You and two others. One social worker, Betty by preference,” he said. Casey pursed her lips in thought but Walker rolled on. “One camera operator. No weapons, no drugs, no listening devices, no GPS toys. The camera will only be on when we say so. You'll be hooded in and out and in certain areas. Deal?” he asked with a hint of authority in his voice.
Casey frowned, ready to leave it on the table. She didn't like the idea of handing them hostages. Something told her Walker wouldn't go that route, but if he was desperate enough …. She wasn't sure why he was doing it. If he knew they would use it for a tactical map, then why? She was about to ask when she felt a hand on her arm. She looked up to the agents who nodded. Miss Alverez frowned but nodded as well.
“It's a deal, Lost Sheep. We'll be seeing you soon.”
“All righty then. Lost Sheep out.”
======+======
“He said no GPS; he knows what he's doing. We would use it to create a map of the buildings. Speaking of which, do we have an architectural map of the buildings?” one agent asked.
“Um, no, the, ah, local courthouse was stripped of all documents for fire-making materials during the collapse it seems. The floor plans aren't there; we looked,” she said with a grimace.
“Humph. Pity about that,” the lead agent said, clearly disgusted but not surprised. She looked over to the negotiator. The woman looked nervous. She shrugged. “I'll go stick my head in the lion's den, ma'am.”
Miss Alverez straightened and shook her head firmly no. “No. He said a social worker. One he knows,” she said, shaking her head.
“I'll call Betty,” Casey said, picking up the radio.
======+======
Walker met them at the only remaining road access. It was a narrow bridge, too narrow to have more than one vehicle cross at a time.
Casey girded herself and then nodded. They came up the road with the other agents and social worker trailing warily behind. A robot ATV had them stop at the checkpoint. The agents talked about it among themselves, surprised and a bit dismayed by the appearance of such a complex machine.
Casey noted a robot walking in the tree line beyond but didn't say anything. They were hustled out of the car and into a van by a group of grim men and women dressed in black combat fatigues and bearing automatic weapons. Inside they were hooded and then searched. Each woman was ordered to strip by a female guard. Their clothes are bagged. They shivered until they were given coveralls to put on. Each was wanded to check for electronic devices they may have swallowed or smuggled into a body cavity. When they appeared clear, they were handcuffed and then the van moved out.
They knew they were being watched remotely by a UAV. The sheriff didn't know it, but the negotiator had spritzed herself with a chemical tracking tag to allow the UAV to keep track of them once they were out of the vehicle and into the compound.
Casey was intensely nervous. It was worse than a fire fight she thought. She felt something pass in front of her. Apparently they really were paranoid; before they were out of the van, they were given another sweep. “No, no wire or electronic devices,” a new female voice said.
“I could have told you that,” the sheriff said dryly.
“Hush. Okay, next … Hmmm …” the girl stopped
at the camera operator. They could hear insistent beeping. “She's got a GPS locator,” the girl's voice said, dropping into a cold professional note of warning. “In the camera and … yeah, another on her. You're sloppy, Nicky,” she said.
They could hear someone swallow and protest mutely. The agent stiffened but stopped moving when she felt a hand on the back of her head and a cold muzzle pressed to her ear. Casey felt a trickle of fear as rough hands gripped her as well.
“Gee, sorry, but that camera just got broke,” the girl said, sounding pleased but malicious. They could hear smashing sounds.
“Can you scramble the GPS?” she asked of someone else. “Yeah, I got it. Localized EMP … yup, it's out,” the girl said. “The negotiator has a chemical marker. I am neutralizing it now.”
“Oh my God,” Miss Alverez muttered.
“Yeah, we're that good,” the girl said. “Now shut up or I'll cut the damn thing out of you. I should use acid.”
“Play nice, Alicia,” Walker rumbled.
“I don't see why. You know they just want to screw us, or well, you,” she said. “There, done.”
“You are sure?” she nodded. “Good,” Walker rumbled. He nodded. “It seems you don't like to play by the rules, Agent. That’s not nice, but since I'm in a forgiving mood I'll let you pretend to be a camera woman. We'll get you a camera when we park again,” he said. They moved out again.
======+======
They pulled up to a shed then parked. They were hustled out, then the hoods removed. Casey felt his hand on her arm. She turned to him. He smiled sympathetically. “Sorry, Sheriff,” he murmured.
She leaned into him. “Me too. Betsy our social worker was kept back,” she murmured back.
He grimaced. He already knew, but it was nice to hear it from her. “Thanks,” he whispered to her.
After a moment he straightened. “Ladies,” he looked over to the two agents. “I'll tell you this now, fuck with me and you'll go back sorry and sore. Kelly, got the camera?” he asked. The girl reluctantly handed over a simple camera. “This has its own Wi-Fi link to our server. You can keep the flash stick; we'll get a copy of the video. It won't work when we don't want it too,” he warned. “And the GPS is turned off.” He smiled as the agent snarled then fumbled with it.