Hard Rain Falling (Walking in the Rain Book 3)

by William Allen

  “So, I heard your girlfriend or sister was being held at that school? Is that why you volunteered?”

  I did laugh at that. So part of that bull we cooked up still managed to make the rounds? I decided to give him the truth—some of it—and see what the grapevine carried forward. I knew some of the troops at the fort looked at us a bit skeptically; especially with the civilian contractor tag we’d picked up.

  “Neither one, Master Sergeant; we found out what was going on at the school from some girls we rescued. The girl that knew the most about what was going on in there had a sister still inside. She’d told us enough that I could go in and pretend to be her brother if we could get the local Guard unit to back our move.”

  “Did it work? I mean, obviously you managed to convince some of Captain Devayne’s men to go along, but I heard things went to shit after you got inside. The story got you through the door though, didn’t it?” Warnecke asked, and I could tell he was really curious even though his thick, nimble fingers never stopped working at backing out a hard-to-reach screw.

  “Sergeant Conners and Private Borden got us inside. All my story did was make the first guard decide it was a good idea to stonewall Sergeant Conners. Bad idea for him.”

  Warnecke nodded. “Yeah, I heard both those guys did good. Earned Conners his next stripe and I’ll bet the other guy will be promoted soon as well. They made the Guard look good, and we haven’t had a lot of chances to shine lately.”

  “I beg to differ. You guys are short-handed and the situation is just impossible. They were great and so was the relief force Captain Devayne brought in. Got all those people freed and didn’t lose a man.”

  I thought that was the end of it when Warnecke went back to work and it was silent for nearly half an hour.

  “I heard it got really hairy there, once you got inside. I heard from someone who talked to Nathan, I mean, Sergeant Conners, that you had to hold the stairs for nearly an hour while under attack.” He asked the question of truth carefully, not wanting to push too far, I figured.

  “Closer to half an hour really; still, I won’t lie, it was bad. I’ve been in some scrapes before, but that was just… I can’t see how you guys do it. I was in over my head, Master Sergeant.”

  “I heard different. I heard you did just fine. Most of what we do, or did before, doesn’t involve getting into pitched battles. You know, even when we were deployed it was mainly random mortars and harassing fire. Sometimes the hajjis would try to hit us from an ambush, but mostly they just died when our choppers showed up.”

  I thought about what Warnecke said, and then I remembered the first guard. The giant named David. The man I executed in cold blood. Funny thing, Conners later admitted—somewhat embarrassingly—was that he didn’t think I was actually going to do it. He was just trying to psyche the prisoner out a bit. Oops. Well, the joke was on him when I slashed the man’s throat open like butchering a hog.

  I didn’t really have a problem with it. The man had damned himself with his own words. I was the executioner, and he just died quicker than his boss, Jimenez. When he admitted to raping some of the girls supposedly under his protection… well, he was dead from that point going forward.

  Warnecke had a few more questions, clearly not believing me when I admitted my age. Normally I would have not disclosed this information, but I thought it better that people didn’t assume I was a child molester if they caught me holding Amy’s hand. Admittedly, Amy did look closer to her age of almost fifteen now that she’d been eating sort of regularly for the last month, but we were both still sensitive about some things.

  That night, I lay with Amy in my arms and thought about what happened at the school. The fight was still somewhat of a blur—sometimes literally because of the white smoke grenade used by the attackers. Like I told Warnecke, I’d been in tight spots and hard places before, but for some reason this was different.

  Maybe it was the fact my back was against the wall. Other times, even when I took risks like taking out the group of raiders at Saw Creek, I could have retreated and done something else. Even when I’d been facing death trying to help Stan and Ruth, my actions allowed for the possibility of leading the bad guys away. That the last two turned out to just be better than me at fighting was not something I spent much time thinking about. The school, though, always seemed to be waiting in the back of my mind.

  Screw it, I finally decided and tried to stop thinking about anything. Amy, probably unconsciously sensing my mood, moved her head closer to mine. Giving her one last kiss, I gave up on my useless pondering and let sleep take me.

  That night, I dreamed of being trapped by dark shadows and ripped at by unseen claws. Apparently, my mind was still wrestling with the memories knocking around in my head. No shocker, but these new nightmares would just have to stand in line with the older ones already haunting my sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  On the evening of our fifth day at Fort Chaffee, I was sitting with the ladies in our mess hall enjoying my serving of beans and rice and absently rubbing my back. This had a been a day of hard labor for me, first working until lunch with the master sergeant getting the three Bradleys up and running. Then, I’d been drafted to help get another mothballed barracks cleaned out and refurbished. Hauling barrels of trash and helping perform some minor plumbing repairs kept me busy until dark.

  The population of the camp continued to expand the whole time we’d been guests of the colonel. Up until today, I’d assumed these newcomers represented more Guard dependents being consolidated to a centrally located strong point. That idea had turned out to only be partially correct.

  The corporal supervising the repairs in the old barracks turned out to be a plumber in his civilian life, and he asked me to help once he discovered I knew how to turn a wrench. Like Warnecke, he was a bit curious about me, mainly wanting to know what I’d seen of the rest of the country.

  I was happy to oblige him, within limits. When I idly commented on so many dependents arriving, he was good enough to explain only part of the new influx came from existing Guard personnel.

  “The colonel figures we’re going to need the additional manpower, I guess. He’s got the outlying units busy recruiting. Prior service, reservists, and critical skills go to the head of the line is what I heard. A bunch are coming here with their families for some kind of basic training. Be a refresher for most. He’s also letting their families come, just like the rest of us.”

  “Well, that’s smart. If he can feed everybody,” I allowed.

  And it was, the more I thought on the subject, the more I saw just how smart. The colonel was building his force, making up for the desertions. Unless I missed my guess, he was also getting some of them back as well. As a secondary effect, Hotchkins could also co-opt lots of hungry men and women who might otherwise be on the other side of the fences either causing trouble with others or outright attacking the Guard units for food or more weapons.

  The situation in Fort Smith was already out of control, just like the colonel had earlier confided. Much of the work done by the troops garrisoned at Fort Chaffee now consisted of hardening the gates and patrolling the fences. Hotchkins didn’t have the men to occupy the whole military reservation but his men worked at keeping the central complex and buildings.

  I worried the large population of starving civilians in the nearby city would overwhelm the Fort. Maybe that’s why Warnecke and I—along with the rest of the maintenance unit—spent so much time refurbishing the Bradleys and other armored personnel carriers and assault vehicles. I knew Hotchkins also had some Abrams M1 tanks and field artillery at his disposal, but neither force had yet to be deployed.

  “Oh, I’ll be a pretty boring diet come spring, but we’ll make it if the gardens produce anything,” the corporal reassured me.

  Now, sitting with my girl and eating dinner with friends, I thought about the colonel again and decided my initial impression had been spot-on. The man was more than a capable, dedicated leader; he was a hero
, and his men and women responded to his leadership with a loyalty that bordered on veneration. I knew that word from my vocabulary work, but now I had an example to fix in my mind. If anything in the region was going to survive the Die Off, Hotchkins would be the man to direct those efforts.

  “Luke,” Amy said, interrupting my pondering. She was watching me with a curious look, and I knew she was becoming accustomed to my mind wandering off at times.

  “What’s up, sweets?”

  Using her eyes, she directed my attention to the door of the dining hall. There, I saw the sergeant who’d escorted me to visit the colonel before.

  “I think he’s looking for you. Is there anything we need to know?” she asked the question softly, so only Lori and Summer might hear.

  I shrugged. The motion seemed to trigger the sergeant and I could see his eyes move to my position in the crowded cafeteria. Recognition dawned and he headed in our direction.

  “I guess he wants something. No alarm that I know. Colonel Hotchkins probably just remembered some more questions for me.”

  I was wrong. He wanted to see all four of us—in his office. Why did I suddenly feel like the principal wanted a word with me?

  We were nearly finished anyway, but I wouldn’t let the sergeant hurry us until Summer finished her food, sipping at the bowl like it was soup. Nobody was going to miss any chance to fuel up if I could help it. Dunking our dishes in the soapy water of the washing station, we hustled up and followed the unnamed sergeant out the door.

  I tried to elicit some information as we made the hike in the gathering darkness, but the sergeant remained tight lipped until we neared the large office complex that that housed the colonel’s base of operations. I noted the armed guard standing outside the entryway, but he didn’t bat an eye as all four of us and the sergeant entered with our side arms.

  Once inside, our guide led us to a small conference room off the main set of offices and finally broke his silence.

  “The colonel is meeting with representatives of the Oklahoma Guard. They arrived in convoy this afternoon. Their commander, Captain Vanderpool, expressed an interest in meeting all of you. Please wait here and I will return when they are ready to see the four of you.”

  I got the impression the sergeant didn’t like me, but that did not spread to the three young ladies in my company. He gave each one of them a reassuring nod and left. I wondered if he was still holding a grudge from me drawing down on him. Hey, I was just trying to sleep.

  I motioned for Amy to take a seat and the other two girls tittered as I pulled out the chair for her. Despite their laughter, I could tell the Thompson sisters were nervous about the upcoming meeting but Amy seemed unconcerned. She sat and went over a list from her breast pocket while we waited.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Just some tallies from the inventory this morning. We didn’t get finished so I held on to the list until tomorrow. Did you know they still have land mines in storage here?”

  I blanched. Land mines were something I knew nothing about, but everything I’d ever read claimed they were bad news. Little kids were still getting blown up in Afghanistan from land mines left over from the Soviet occupation. Heck, my Dad said they lost a man from his company to one on his last deployment there. At first they thought it was Taliban or AQ, but the small mine field was confirmed to have been in the ground for decades. I said as much to the girls, feeling free to actually share something about my family without worrying about who was listening.

  “Well, these are going to be deployed here, no doubt. The colonel doesn’t have the manpower to guard every inch of the perimeter. Of course, he only has to bury a few and word will get around. He may not have to use them all.” Amy’s voice held a quiet kind of strength as she said the practical words.

  “That is an excellent idea, young lady,” said a voice from the door and I flushed scarlet. So much for my situational awareness. In my defense, Colonel Hotchkins struck me as a being very quiet when the situation required. I knew his background was in armor, but he could have been a scout.

  I jumped to my feet as the colonel pulled the door the rest of the way open to enter. The girls followed suit, more slowly, but I was watching the colonel as he led in a small group of officers and senior enlisted men. I recognized a major from his staff and two men in slightly different looking uniforms that I took to be representing the Oklahoma contingent. One, a tall black man with a closely shaved head, wore the insignia of a captain while the other man, a white guy in his early thirties with a receding hairline and glasses, was a staff sergeant.

  “Gentlemen, here are the young people I was telling you about. This is Luke, Amy, Lori, and Summer. Lori and Summer are the sisters from McAlester I’d mentioned.” The colonel made the introductions without looking at any notes and got all the names right. Of course, I was the only guy and Lori and Summer shared a look that made their relationship easy to figure out. That only left Amy to place.

  We exchanged handshakes with the Oklahoma Guard members and I thought Lori might have teared up a bit. I guessed the idea of finally going home was dawning on her. I could only imagine how terrifying it must have been. Being held against her will, and then sold as a sex slave only to be rescued by more strangers must have set her emotions on a roller coaster. Even the promise of help getting home to the rest of her family must have been fraught with concerns. Now, that reunion might be one step closer. I couldn’t read Summer at all but she clung to Lori’s hand like it was a life preserver.

  “Guys, this is Major George Jensen, my executive officer. These gentlemen are Captain Shane Vanderpool and Sergeant James Halloran. They are both attached to the Oklahoma City command. The captain’s convoy just arrived this evening and we were swapping a few stories. Luke, I was just sharing your story about how you recovered a piece of property rightfully belonging to the Oklahoma National Guard.”

  I colored a little at the reminder, since I’d actually looted it off the body of a highway bandit I’d killed.

  “Any idea where it came from, sir?” the captain asked politely.

  “No, Sir. They are all dead. All of them we ran into, anyway. I did get to question one severely wounded bandit briefly, but unfortunately the question just didn’t come up. By the way, you can pick up the rifle from the armory here on base. I checked it in when we arrived.”

  Which I did… after removing the scope, magazine, and sling. Those were all things I could use and they wouldn’t miss. Yes, stowed in the footlocker that was chained to the foot of my bunk with the heaviest chain and padlock I could scrounge up.

  That caused the sergeant to wrinkle his brow.

  “What did you ask him, son?”

  “If he had any more of his buddies waiting up ahead to spring an ambush. We were very worried about that possibility at the time. They’d already tried to take our traveling companions earlier, which were an injured man, his wife, and their six month old daughter. Amy here is good, but we hadn’t had a chance to cover what to do in the event of an ambush.”

  “And what would that be?” the sergeant asked, following up.

  “Either get out of the kill-box immediately or counterattack with everything you got and try to overrun the attackers. Or so I’ve been taught.”

  “Who was your instructor?” Captain Vanderpool chimed in at that.

  “Nick Keller, former staff sergeant; did twelve years in the Army. He now heads up the security at his family’s farm. Nick taught me a lot while we were there.”

  “And how did you collect this information?” Halloran asked, still curious.

  “Stan and I agreed to give him medical help if he answered our questions. The man was very eager but he died of his wounds before we were finished.”

  “Gentlemen,” Colonel Hotchkins carefully interrupted, “Let’s all grab some seats and we can continue sharing information. I’m sure Lori and Summer want to hear about conditions back home.”

  From the look shared between the captain an
d the sergeant, the girls were not going to like what was said.

  First, though, as soon as we were seated, Captain Vanderpool asked that I give a brief description of my route and observations as I traveled through Illinois, Missouri, and Arkansas. The colonel already had most of this, and I indicated as such as I gave a five minute summary of the trip. What it boiled down to was anarchy, starvation, murder, some rioting in the streets of Chicago, and that about covered everything.

  Vanderpool was looking for more, it seemed.

  “I understand you reported instances of… what could be described as official oppression at one of the camps. Is that correct?”

  “I don’t know what else to call it. Rape tents were what we called them—the prisoners called them, I mean.”

  I saw the two officers glance apprehensively at the ladies present, but none of them batted an eye. They’d already heard the story. Lori looked back at them, hard.

  “What? You expect me to be scandalized by what Luke said? That was where I was headed, that same type of treatment anyway, when Luke and his friends saved us. A group of thugs bought me from another group of thugs in exchange for food. Can you say it is any better back home, sir?”

  Vanderpool looked down. His dark skin protected him from blushing at the girl’s blunt statement, but Halloran was not so lucky.

  “No, ma’am,” the captain agreed. “I’m sure every kind of indecency is occurring in Oklahoma City even as we speak. The Guard is spread too thin to do more than try to keep the city’s streets clear of bodies. If attacked, they have standing orders to respond with overwhelming firepower, but otherwise we… well, there’s not much we can do. Food is hard to come by, and the city water system has been down for months. I’m sure McAlester is in much the same shape. They’ve only got an understrength company there, and Captain Bisley is certainly doing everything he can.”

  “Things are tough everywhere, gentleman,” I commented, trying to neutralize the situation. Clearly, Lori was not pleased to hear that the situation back home mirrored what she’d seen here. I could read the tension in her shoulders, even as Summer started tearing up. Worrying about a situation is one thing, but hearing confirmation is something else.