Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1)

by L. Douglas Hogan

  Cade took notice of where the woman had covered her motorcycle, and he passaged his way through the woods to the point where they had hidden it. By the time he reached the place where she met the strangers, they were still several yards ahead of him. He walked up to the motorcycle and uncovered it. There were saddlebags attached to it, but there was nothing to salvage from them. He covered it back up, not out of a sense of respect, but because he figured he might need to backtrack at some point and commandeer the bike. To do that meant he needed it to run, if and when he was to return to it.

  Before Cade stepped out onto the road, he took a moment to develop a strategy. Should I play the victim, or should I act normal? he thought. Cade had a personality disorder that sometimes came between him and wise decision-making processes. He always assumed things would work out in his favor, no matter what that decision might be. In this case, Cade was fueled by revenge and that was coupled with the thought of his now deceased father, which was a move he regretted once he had time to rethink it.

  I’m going to act normal, he thought. If anybody sees how I’m wounded, they’ll start asking questions. Cade took the bandage off and ran his hand over the exit wound of the gunshot. The pain was excruciating to the touch. The hole was bigger than he had imagined, and he figured it would be better to keep it bandaged up. He carefully reapplied the gauze but couldn’t get the tape to secure the end, so he tucked the end of the wrap under a previous pass, called it quits, and stepped out onto the road.

  “Hello!” he called, but the pressure on his skull caused by the yell was painful and more than he could stomach. He barely got the word out, but they were too far ahead of him to hear his call anyway. To Cade, the mere fact that they couldn’t hear him was as unbearable as the pain drumming through his skull. It wasn’t long until one of the men turned to the rear to check their six.

  “Hey, Mike,” one of the men called out.

  “Yeah?” Mike jumped out of formation, where he was preoccupied with Tori, and looked to the man in the rear patrol. “What’s up?”

  Mike saw him looking backward, to the north of the road they were patrolling, and saw a man waving a hand in the air.

  “Check this out,” Mike said, tapping Tori on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

  Tori turned and stepped out of the two-column formation as everyone else stopped to check their six.

  “Looks like a day for picking up stragglers,” Tori said.

  “Binos!” Mike exclaimed.

  One of the men closer to him handed him a pair of binoculars. Mike held them up to his face and saw a ragged-looking man with a dirty bandage on his head.

  “His lips are moving, but all I can read is help.”

  “May I?” Tori asked, reaching her hands out to accept the binoculars.

  Mike handed her the binoculars and she looked through them. “He’s looking a little rough. I don’t think he’ll survive these temperatures.”

  She aimed them a little higher over his head and saw two large birds flying in circles over his head, like vultures would do for carrion.

  Cade could see that they had taken notice of him, but his condition had worsened since he had left. He was feeling severely drained and had the shivers. He struggled to maintain consciousness and continued to drag his feet to where the strangers were located. When he saw them moving towards him, he slowed his pace and eventually dropped to his knees.

  I can’t go on anymore , he thought. He dropped his pack and rested his back against it as he seated himself on the ground. Cade closed his eyes and his mind blackened.

  As the group approached Cade, one of the men that was originally in the rear was now in the lead.

  “Hey, Mike, it’s that guy from the shooting by the train track.”

  Mike ran up to him.

  “Hey, mister,” Mike said as he gently shook Cade’s shoulder, but he didn’t respond.

  “Hey, Kenny, do you still have that emergency heat wrap?”

  “Yeah,” Kenny said, taking the pack off of his back and opening the pouch that contained the heat wrap. He handed it to Mike and he took it and unfolded it, wrapping it around Cade’s body.

  Tori, using her motherly instincts, crouched down and felt his forehead. “He’s burning up.”

  “Can you catch hypothermia with a fever?” another one of the men asked.

  “I don’t know,” she responded. “I’m not a nurse, I’m a mother. Kinda the same thing, only different.”

  Mike heard the mother comment, but didn’t reply.

  She reached down and removed the bandage from his head.

  “This is an exit wound, Mike,” she said as she went around to the back side of Cade and found the entrance wound. “This man has been shot in the head.”

  “I know, I saw it happen. It’s a miracle the man is even alive.”

  “What do you mean you saw it happen?”

  “We belong to a group that controlled a few blocks in Marion. This man was walking the tracks with a lady that pulled a gun on him.”

  “Why do you suppose she shot him?”

  “We never found that out, but it’s the reason we’re tracking the group now.”

  Tori looked into Mike’s eyes, as if waiting for clarification.

  “I don’t know who shot first. Either she shot him, or we tried to save him by shooting at her; either way, he dropped and we soon found out they were not alone. A few Humvees with Marines and civilians came through, shooting back at us. They picked her up; we took cover and were later sent after them to gather information. Obviously, he hasn’t fared so well. Now I need to know why he’s here. Tom Walker would never allow him to leave in this condition.”

  Tori took the rifle from her shoulder, pointed it at his head, and aimed down her sights.

  Tom hurriedly grabbed the muzzle of the rifle and pointed it in a safe direction. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed.

  “He’s going to die slowly if we don’t put him down now.”

  “The world may have fallen victim to a hell we can’t comprehend, but we’re not animals, Tori. We don’t kill each other, we protect each other. It’s the American way of survival.”

  “He’s just going to slow us down and be a burden to us.”

  “What’s the big hurry? We should just head back now and tell Tom that we lost their scent.”

  “I’m not going backwards, and I’m going in that direction,” Tori said, pointing to the north.

  “Then you’ll be alone again.”

  “That’s fine by me. If you remember right, I was on my own just a little bit ago.”

  “What happened to your kids, Tori? Did you shoot them, too?”

  When Mike said that to Tori, she lost all control and hit him with the buttstock of her rifle.

  “My family was burned alive in our home by a band of brigands. I was rescued and cursed to live out my life regretting that I didn’t die with them. The next time you insult my children’s memory, I’ll kill you, too.”

  Mike was holding his head where Tori had struck him. “I’m sorry, Tori. I didn’t know.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. Go be a white knight and save that guy. He’s only got a couple hours if you don’t get him hydrated and warm,” Tori said as she readjusted her rifle sling onto her shoulder. She took off walking back to the south where she had laid her Harley in the forest. When she reached it, she noticed that the brush she used to conceal it had been disturbed.

  The only person that could have disturbed my bike was that dying guy , she thought.

  He must’ve been watching us.

  “No matter now,” she said out loud as she began removing the foliage she had used to cover it up. She touched the motor, for no other reason than to see if the engine was still warm, but it was cold. She was confident that the freezing temperatures would soon claim the wounded stranger’s life.

  By the time Tori had her bike out of the woods and onto the street, the group of men, led by Mike, had already constructed a makeshift fi
eld gurney to transport the wounded stranger back to Marion.

  “They’re stupid for this. It’s more than ten miles back to Marion from here. He’ll never make it.”

  She started the bike and looked northward at the men who were going out of their way to help a wounded man. She began to feel guilty for not lending them a helping hand.

  What’s becoming of me? Why am I allowing my compassion to erode? Is this who I am? A killer? Can I let a man die and not feel that I am somehow a part of his death?

  She drove the motorcycle up to where the men were now taking turns carrying the wounded stranger, and pulled up in front of them.

  “Latch it to the back of my bike. I’ll take him back to Marion.”

  “You were going to finish him off a few minutes ago,” one of the men said.

  “I’ve had a change of heart. Do you want my help or not?”

  Mike stepped forward and took out some 550 paracord and began to latch the handles of the gurney to the bike.

  “You better use some of that stuff to secure him to the gurney so he doesn’t slide off,” Tori suggested.

  The men wrapped him in all the paracord they had available, enabling Tori to pull him along without the worry of him sliding off.

  “Eventually those sticks will erode away under the constant grind of the road,” Mike said.

  “I know, but I’m hoping the wet surface will help hold some of that at bay until I can get to some of those houses up the road that might have something I can use to lay under him, like a snow sled or something.”

  “Great idea. Just stay on this road until you come to some stationary train cars. Don’t worry, they’re broken down. Across from there, you’ll see some shacks. One of our people will take you in and help you with whatever you need. We’ll catch up to you later, I guess. Godspeed.”

  Tori nodded to them and took off towards Marion with the wounded gunshot victim in tow.

  Just south of Benton, Illinois

  The train was braking as it came near Benton. As it slowed to a crawl, it was apparent that this wasn’t just another train, but mirrored the train cars seen in Marion and was eerily similar to the barges seen on the Mississippi river, just months prior. There was a Roman numeral five on every car, as far as they could see.

  Jessica was near Nathan when they had taken their positions in the wood line.

  “Nathan!” she exclaimed in a whispered voice. “It’s the UN again.”

  “I know. I think they’re using these larger towns as ports to pick up people for transport to the FEMA compounds.”

  “This one’s obviously heading to Region Five.”

  “I would love to acquire the routes these guys are traveling, where they come from, etcetera.”

  The group watched as the lead car disappeared into Benton city limits and the train came to a stop. They couldn’t see the lead or rear cars from their position, but it was an easy estimate to determine from the speed of the train and the distance into Benton city limits that the engine was well into, if not past, the town. The group stayed hunkered down in the woods for several minutes. Those minutes paid off when a convoy of UN-labeled HMMWVs came driving in from Benton along the road they were traveling. The convoy disappeared toward the rear end of the train until they had circled around and come back again. This time, they slowed to a stop and let several UN soldiers out of the vehicles. When they had unloaded their troops, they continued northward.

  The group watched as the UN soldiers walked up to the train cars and began unfastening the securing mechanism on each individual car. Once the car was unfastened, they would slide the car door open and move on to the next one.

  Nathan studied their procedure carefully, but there was nothing routine enough about what they were doing to develop a plan. He noticed the convoy was now gone and the soldiers were lingering in the area. Some of them jumped into the empty cars and sat down, others stayed on the ground, yet others were hanging out in groups of two or three and chitchatting.

  The train cars didn’t have any cargo, but the intention to fill it with cargo was there. Each car had a line of hand shackles running along the length of the back of the car. The group could see the hand shackles from their position, but do to their low profile, they couldn’t see that there were also ankle shackles in the cars.

  The train cars had been manufactured in the United States years prior. When the government began its work with the UN, the need to transport violent mobs of Americans became the problem of the day. When the president wanted plausible deniability, she assigned the decision making to the directors she appointed over FEMA and other disaster-related organizations, giving them each a budget. FEMA, together with the Department of Homeland Security, devised a way to escort the people to the government-provided housing. The trains were constructed and sat in an unused area on federal land until they were needed.

  Ash was a few feet away from Nathan on the opposite side Jess was on.

  “Hey,” Ash whispered in Nathan’s direction.

  Nathan just looked his way with his finger covering his lips. “Shhhhh.”

  Nathan reminisced about the time he and Denny had coincided their shots to kill two UN soldiers, back in October. That’s when they met Jessica. She was being held in a barge transport container similar to these train cars, except they were crammed into the barge containers and these cars were designed to have people shackled. Nathan could only imagine how they got people into them.

  Jessica was having memories of her own. Lots had changed since Nathan’s and Denny’s daring rescue. Many friends had died and the small distance they had traveled seemed like a thousand miles and a hundred years ago. She took her eyes off of the train for a moment to look in Nathan’s direction and saw Ash on the other side of him, with his head lying on the ground. His face was pale and his eyes were closed.

  “Nathan,” Jess said, catching his attention.

  She received the same response he had given Ash, but Jess was adamantly pointing at Ash. “Corpsman,” Nathan whispered, looking left and right.

  “Corpsman,” the members of the group began to whisper. There was no sign of Denny.

  Nathan looked forward and saw that there was a UN soldier who might have heard the loud whispers. He was walking towards the woods, but never took his feet off of the graveled track. He was armed with an AK-47 and had it pointed into the woods, but at the low ready position.

  Most of the group members were beginning to feel that their position had been compromised, so they remained quiet and watched, forgetting about Ash for the moment.

  The soldier stood at the edge of the track until the train began to make loud, familiar clanking sounds that trains make when they’re beginning to move. The soldier turned back around and rejoined the others, who were jumping up into the cars. They all loaded up and stood in them, hanging on to handles near the trim of the door.

  The train began a slow crawl north. The soldier that may have heard the whispers was now out of the area, but there were more soldiers in the upcoming train cars.

  Nathan took advantage of the noise the train was making to low crawl towards Ash. Once he reached Ash, he gave him a shake, but there was no response. He felt his face and it was clammy. About that time, Denny came quietly low crawling to the position where Ash and Nathan were lying.

  “Sorry I’m late, boss. I lost you when we scurried into the woods.”

  “Ash is down.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. He called to me and I told him to be quiet. The next thing I know, he’s out like a light.”

  “Is he diabetic?”

  “I don’t know. He never reported any such medical condition.”

  “I know this is a long shot, but I need orange juice or something with sugar in it that is rapidly soluble.”

  “This ain’t good.”

  Nathan began looking around and came up with an idea crazy enough to work. He looked at Denny and said, “Pass this message along: Diabetic down.
If you have any type of sugar product, pass it down.”

  Denny received the message and whispered it to the next guy. This continued on until a peppermint made its way back to Denny.

  Nathan took one look at the peppermint candy and said, “What’s the plan for getting a diabetic to swallow sugar?”

  “You can’t. If I force this into his mouth, he could choke and die.”

  Denny opened the candy and stuck it in his own mouth.

  “What are you doing?”

  Denny put his finger up to signal Nathan to wait a minute.

  Nathan waited.

  When Denny had produced enough sugary spit, he opened Ash’s lips and spat the long stream of saliva onto his teeth and gums. He closed his mouth and waited.

  “That was disgusting,” Nathan said.

  “Maybe so, boss, but we have to wait to see if it’ll work.”

  “Have you ever done this before?”

  “No, but he can’t swallow and his gums and lips will rapidly absorb the sugar into the skin and ultimately into the tiny capillaries that will take it to his liver for processing.”

  The train came to a stop again and that introduced more UN soldiers that had been dropped off towards the rear of the train earlier.

  Nathan sighed with a breath of frustration and said, “We can’t stay like this, waiting on this train and having Ash in this condition.”

  “What do you recommend, boss?”

  “Can you stay here with some guys while I take a team through the woods into town, to see what’s going on there?”

  “Not a problem.”

  Nathan low crawled back to Jess. “The next time the train progresses forward, we’re going to get a team ready and head into town. We need sugar for Ash and to find out what’s going on there.”