by David Nees
The two men weren’t moving anymore. Joe was on the bottom, the revolver lying loose in his right hand. Billy was sprawled on top of him. Even from this distance, she saw blood pouring from the right side of Billy’s head.
“Oh God!”
She let the rifle fall. She got back to her feet and staggered towards the two men. Was Billy dead? First Bird, then Lori Sue, and now Billy? Catherine wept in rage and anguish.
“No, no, no,” she kept repeating as she approached the bodies.
She knelt down and rolled Billy over. He fell off Joe and lay on his back.
She stared.
He was still breathing. Somehow he wasn’t dead.
Tears blurred her already hazy vision. She grabbed the revolver out of Joe’s hand and threw it toward the sidewalk. There was a knife handle sticking out of the side of Joe’s neck. It had severed his carotid artery, and. his blood had sprayed out over Billy and the pavement around them. The flow was slowing to a trickle now. Joe was dead.
Choking back her sobs, Catherine turned back to Billy. How badly was he wounded? He was alive, but he could still die. She had seen that up close twice before. She examined his wound, gently wiping the blood away to see better. It looked severe, but with a sigh of relief she saw that the bullet had grazed his head, traveling above his right ear in an upward path. There was a lot of blood, but it didn’t look like the shot had penetrated his skull. He might have a concussion, even a fractured skull, but there was no bullet in his brain.
She staggered over to the truck and looked in the bed. There was a folded blanket stuffed between two of the boxes. She pulled it out, brought it back and tucked it underneath Billy’s head. She pulled Billy’s knife out of Joe’s neck and used it to cut a sleeve off of Billy’s shirt for a bandage for his head.
When she was done, she tried to rouse him. His eyes fluttered as he slowly regained consciousness. She stood up, grunting with the pain, and slowly walked back to her backpack. She got out her canteen and brought it back. Her side was slick with blood under the coat and her shirt, but she tried to ignore it; Billy came first.
Billy was disoriented. He didn’t know where he was. There was a female bending over him, a girl in a baseball cap. She was trying to give him something to drink. She looked familiar. Even through the dirt he could tell she was attractive, but Billy couldn’t place her. Had he been chasing someone or something? It was unclear in his mind.
There was a voice, the girl was speaking, but he couldn’t hear her well enough to understand the words.
He watched her try again. This time he heard his name. There was a ringing in his right ear that was so loud it almost drowned out everything else. His left ear seemed better, so he turned his head to the right. A shooting, throbbing pain erupted along his right temple.
“Ahh,” Billy groaned. “Hurt. It hurts,” he mumbled. The girl, what he was doing lying in the street here, the whole scene which seemed so foreign, all of it now slowly began to come back to him, like a landscape emerging from the mist.
It took some time for Catherine to understand that Billy couldn’t hear her. She raised her voice, and after a while he began to answer. Then she realized he was disoriented. Slowly, his remembrance of events returned. Catherine kept checking his head wound, making sure he didn’t lose too much blood.
“Joe’s dead?”
“Yeah,” she yelled into his ear. “You killed him with your knife, just as he shot you. A second later and you’d have been killed. I would have been next. You saved us both.”
“Shouldn’t have gone up to him,” he mumbled. “You were right.”
“He would have pulled that surprise sometime.”
“I didn’t know about that kind of holster.”
“Me either.”
He seemed more alert. “What we do now?” he said.
The sound of the fighting seemed to have died down. Whatever its outcome had been. “We should get out of the middle of the street. If any militia come, we don’t want to be out here. Can you move?”
Billy looked up at her. “I can crawl…I think.”
Chapter 34
Frank Mason watched the battle for three hours from the third floor of the hotel, which was completely empty except for him. When he finally saw militia fighters starting to surrender, he knew it was time to leave. He had secured one of the City Hall cars, a long white Oldsmobile with a full tank of gas. It was packed for his escape. He had left the car in the disused parking garage beneath the hotel, and he was fairly confident that no one noticed when he pulled out and drove away. Now he headed for the gap in the city wall near the water mill, by the old canal that was going to be dug out. He figured it would be the least-watched route out of Hillsboro.
He didn’t get that far.
When he was still over a mile from the gap, seven men jumped out into the street in front of him from behind a row of abandoned cars. Frank saw rifles pointed at him. He braked and was about to back up when one of the men yelled to him that he would be fired upon if he tried to reverse.
He thought he recognized a couple of the men. Two were cops. But he didn’t know the others…
“Get out of the car and approach with your hands raised.”
Frank stepped out as directed. “I’m Frank Mason, head of the Safety Committee,” he said. “I’m heading out to see what’s going on at the checkpoints north of town.”
“You’re going in the wrong direction,” one of them shouted back.
“I can’t get through with the fighting downtown.” He gestured toward the source of the faraway noise, which had now greatly diminished.
“Looks like you’re trying to escape,” another said.
“No. I’m going to try to get the men at the checkpoints to surrender and not come downtown to fight. I’m trying to help end this.”
Just then Frank heard footsteps behind him. He turned. Charlie Cook had approached him from the other side.
Frank tried to keep his voice calm and professional. “Charlie, tell these men to let me through. I have to get to the checkpoints to make sure they don’t get involved in the fight. It’ll just cause more casualties.”
Charlie’s eyes were cold. “I don’t think so, Frank. I’m putting you under arrest.”
“What for? I’m trying to help.”
“So you say,” Charlie acknowledged. “But you didn’t seem to be helping much that morning when the two civilians were tied to stakes and executed.”
Frank knew his face betrayed his shock. The police chief just watched him. When Charlie spoke again, his voice sounded sad, but there was no trace of it in his eyes. “Do you even remember their names?”
Frank was aware that the other cops around him were listening intently. “Charlie, you saw the situation. There was no way to stop it. At least I could continue to work on the inside, trying to change things. You got left out after you said what you said.”
Charlie’s look changed to disgust. Frank glanced around at the others. They all had hard looks on their faces, and their weapons were all still leveled at Frank.
One of the officers was looking in through the back windows. “Looks like he was packed for a long trip.”
“How about when you stood aside as Joe sent Leo after those farmers?” Charlie said. “You knew Leo was going to kill everyone in the valley. Seems like you didn’t put up much of a fight to change that.”
“But Charlie—”
“No buts, Frank. You’re under arrest and no one is listening to your lies anymore. You picked your side. Just like you told me when I picked mine.” Charlie turned to the officer standing next to him. “Put the handcuffs on him, Les. We’re going to operate like a real police department from now on.”
“You can’t do this,” Frank shouted as two men came forward and grabbed him. “This is what you just complained about.”
“No, it’s different. You’re being arrested on the basis of actual evidence, for crimes committed against the civilians of Hillsboro. You’ll get a t
rial, a real trial, and I’m going to read you your Miranda rights.”
“To hell with Miranda. That doesn’t have anything to do with us now. Let me go!”
“Yes, it does. It’s about time we got back to normal procedures. You’ll have your chance to defend yourself, but for now you’re going to jail. Now listen carefully. You have the right to remain silent…”
Catherine and Billy huddled in the entrance of a Sprint outlet for perhaps a half hour. No one came by. The sound of gunfire had stopped.
“I’m getting pretty stiff,” Catherine said. “I won’t be able to move soon. Maybe we should go get some help. Can you walk?”
“I don’t think so. My head’s still dizzy and I can’t see right. You go.”
Catherine struggled to her feet. The whole left side of her body was stiff and sore. She wasn’t bleeding now, but her shirt was soaked with her blood. She wasn’t sure she could use her carbine, but she worked it onto her back anyway.
“Keep your rifle close in case any militia come along. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He nodded. He looked bad, but he seemed to be stable.
She shuffled down the street. The only place there seemed to be to go was the compound itself. She knew she wouldn’t be able to walk much further. Hope I don’t get shot. She just hoped Kevin and Jason had won the day.
She was challenged as she approached the barricade. She managed to raise her voice to identify herself. She was not addressed again, and she didn’t get shot. When she got to the barricade, she knew there was no question of her clambering through. She plodded along the perimeter, feeling like an old woman, until she came to the place where Joe had forced his way out.
Inside, off to both sides and in the street that led down the center of the compound, she could see large groups of people—sitting. Under the guns of a few people monitoring each cluster.
There was a larger group of people in front of the bank entrance. Dully, she headed toward them, passing torn bodies and weapons. A few people were walking back and forth between groups of prisoners.
One of them was Kevin. He was running towards her.
“Catherine!” he shouted. “I was so worried when I couldn’t find you. I sent someone to check the building and all they found was your rifle.”
“One of my rifles,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
He reached her and tried to embrace her, but she put up her right hand, wincing as the quick motion hurt her. “Don’t. I got shot in the side and I think I’ve got some broken ribs.”
“Oh, no. We got to get you over to the hospital. They’ve set up a triage station—”
Catherine shook her head. “Later. I’m not bleeding now. There’s worse than me. I’ll wait.” She was lying, she could feel that her wound had begun to seep blood again from her walk, but she needed Kevin to have the right priority. “Send somebody to get Billy. He got shot in the head, it grazed him, but he’s not good. He’s right up Flanders, maybe five blocks up. He’s in a phone store doorway.”
Kevin waved over one of his men, a private named Landry, and told him where to go. Landry left at a trot.
A thought came to Catherine’s sluggish mind. “Have you seen Jason? Is he all right?”
“He’s working on securing the prisoners. Gibbs and I are collecting the weapons. When these people are locked up, we’ll be able to spare a few people to try to connect with Charlie. I’m hoping his people have been busy. We need them to round up stray militia trying to leave town. Get the gates watched, if it’s not too late.”
“Shouldn’t you let them leave?”
“Not yet. They could present a threat later. We have to disarm them.”
“What about civilians?”
“That’s a headache.” Kevin ran a hand over his face, and she could suddenly see how exhausted he was. “We’re starting to see a few since the shooting stopped. They’re coming out to see what’s happened. We’re trying to tell them to go tell their families to stay inside until we’ve rounded up all the combatants…”
Catherine noticed that she was starting to sway. A blackness began to close in.
When she came to a moment later, she was sitting on the asphalt and the pain in her side was excruciating. She was only half aware that Kevin had caught her. The next thing she knew was that a white van had pulled up beside her and Kevin was helping her into the passenger seat. She wondered where they had found the van, and then she took no more interest in anything until the hospital.
Chapter 35
Two days later the leaders of the battle gathered together in a conference room at City Hall. Kevin, Rodney Gibbs, Jason, and Charlie were there, along with Steve Warner and Bob Jackson, two of the technicians who had helped form the civilian resistance. Catherine had pulled herself out of her hospital bed for the meeting, and she had persuaded Clayton to attend.
The gaps in the city wall had been re-manned by civilian associates of Warner and Jackson, to make sure that no one took advantage of the turmoil to infiltrate the town. A few of the militia had escaped in spite of Charlie’s efforts, but no one wanted to pursue them. The new guards were keeping a watchful eye out for them, though.
Almost all of the civilian members of the city government had survived the battle. They had not been inside the fortified compound. The ones who worked in the militia block and in Joe’s Resources offices in the bank tower had been ordered to stay home. Robert Goodman, an exception, had been found hiding on the third floor of the bank building. He was being held in the city jail until his level of criminal complicity could be determined, along with Frank Mason and the surviving members of Joe Stansky’s core gang. For the moment, the rest of the city employees had been put back to work; the city still needed to function to provide what services it could to the citizens. The relieved government workers had put up announcements at all the food centers that told the citizens what had happened and that a new government would be forming with the goal of ending martial law. Citizens involved with food collection and preparation had been told to report for their duties as usual.
“We’ve got to hold some elections soon. The people will expect that,” Steve Warner said.
“First we need to figure out how to establish some candidates. We’ll need interim leaders until that can take place,” Charlie replied.
“Sounds like what we had before,” the other technician said. “And what part do you think you’ll play? You were on the wrong side of this for too long.”
Jason leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Charlie got on the right side of things and has proved his worth as far as I’m concerned.”
Steve Warner nodded and held up a palm to Johnson, but his face remained hard. “Yes, and he stuck his neck way out linking up with us. I know it. Bob here knows it. But he’s the police chief of the police state we just got rid of. It won’t look right if he stays in. Not even to me.”
The discussions went on for hours. To Catherine’s surprise, Warner did not want a top official position for himself. He surprised her by arguing that he and his fellow conspirators should not be the immediate leadership.
“Later, maybe,” he said. “But right now we need popular leadership. We need some heroes. You,” he looked at Catherine, “came as rescuers or conquerors. Everyone will see you as the ones who saved Hillsboro. No one knows us, even though we were the resistance.” He paused for a moment to reflect. “And, frankly, we could not have accomplished what you did.”
Johnson frowned at this, but he didn’t disagree. Warner went on. “But we need to plan to hold elections, and the people need to know that right away. In the meantime, it seems to me the best choice is someone they already think of as a hero.”
It was finally decided that Jason would be the interim civic leader. Kevin would be in charge of defense and policing, using his men and the police who had remained loyal to Charlie. Charlie could have an advisory role, but the two technicians, representing the town’s insurrection, insisted he have no official capacit
y or title.
Charlie didn’t say a word of objection. Catherine couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought he looked relieved.
Catherine was surprised again when Kevin nominated her to represent Hillsboro in a diplomatic mission to the neighboring towns. They would soon hear about what had happened and would want to know what it meant, for Hillsboro and for them. It was important to begin building bridges right away. Hillsboro had grown strong in isolation for too long. Conditions in the surviving towns had stabilized enough that the time might be ripe for cooperation. A regional association of towns was seen as a good idea, but it would have to be done as an association of equals, not with Hillsboro dominating or taking over the other towns. It would take an honest person to convince the towns that Hillsboro was going to be a good neighbor. The group unanimously approved Catherine’s nomination.
After the planning discussion was done, Kevin and Catherine spoke with Clayton in the corridor outside. “How’d the survey go?” Kevin asked.
Clayton looked sideways at Kevin with a trace of a smile. He and a few of his people had been out touring the countryside the day before. He stroked his mustache with a fingertip. “Fine land round here,” he answered. “Fertile. Least some of it. We be able to do well here.”
“I figured as much,” Kevin said. “There might be a few surviving owners in Hillsboro. We’ll check to see if anyone has claim to the properties, but I expect your people will pretty much have their pick.”
Clayton’s smile didn’t change at all, but Catherine found herself noticing again how deep the mountain man’s eyes were. “Got rid of that Joe Stansky for ‘em. Seems to me they owe us.”
“Well, we’ll work that out,” Kevin said, a little hurriedly. “I wanted to tell you, we can spare you as many trucks as you need to move your whole encampment. When do you want to go?”