Secession II: The Flood

by Joe Nobody

  The ranger stayed well back, observing the ant-like activity that reminded him more of a military operation than a bunch of friends helping a buddy move into his new digs. There wasn’t any banter or laughter at all. He didn’t hear a single beer being opened.

  Zach wanted a better look and plotted a route that would bring him to a blind spot on the far side of the barn. There was a pool of shadows there, a patch of knee-high weeds, and the perfect angle to view the house and parking area at the same time.

  He started to rise but then froze. Was there already somebody there? Was that a man-shape that just moved?

  Just then, one of the new arrivals opened a trunk, spilling enough light for Zach to confirm that someone had already claimed the best spot for observation. The ranger was sure it was the guy from Jerusalem.

  Deciding he was outnumbered, certainly outgunned, and probably wouldn’t learn all that much, Zach retreated. They would wait on Hinton before hatching a new scheme.

  He backed away, doing his best to remain stealthy. After there was a safe distance between the activity at the house and his footsteps, Zach increased his pace.

  The ranger had no way of knowing Ghost was behind him. It just wasn’t in the playbook for the crook to follow the cop.

  The Arab kept his distance, having no trouble at all following the sound of Zach’s footfalls. He spied the outline of the hidden car before the ranger opened the door to sit inside.

  Ghost inhaled sharply when the dome light illuminated Zach’s face. It was the man from the truck stop… the one he’d seen before. Where? And the woman? He was sure their paths had never crossed before tonight.

  As he knelt in the brush and observed Sam’s sedan, Ghost taxed his recall, trying to pull up the image of the man who he’d just caught spying on their operation.

  Jerusalem. It finally all came back. The restaurant where the Jordanian had broken the bad news that the abducted ambassador’s daughter had been returned.

  Ghost had been irate, a hefty profit having been pulled from his grasp for the actions of the fat bastard that ran the local underworld. If the Americans hadn’t shown up, he would have probably killed the Butcher himself.

  Americans? No, he realized. Texans. The man now sitting in the dark was a Texan, and it all began to make sense.

  Now, a new light was shed on the couple sitting in the dark, cramped sedan. They were some sort of authority for the Republic, probably rangers or policemen. The big man had been in Jerusalem while their president was in town. Some kind of security, no doubt.

  The Arab’s memory then returned to the incident with Bubba. Hadn’t that fool blabbed that he was being pursued by Texas Rangers? Hadn’t there been a man of similar size in the woods the day he’d sniped the big-mouthed idiot? Could it possibly be the same one?

  The coincidences were piling up, quickly becoming implausible.

  With merely a whisper of sound, Ghost moved from his position, his mind judging the blind spots of the car’s mirrors. He wanted to peek at the license plates.

  After working his way around to secure the best angle, Ghost approached the rear of Sam’s little car. At 15 feet, he could see there were Texas plates. What were they doing in Arkansas? Were the authorities on both sides of the border now onto his operation?

  For a moment, Ghost considered killing both of the rangers right there and then. It would be easy. He was so close.

  But he wasn’t sure if they were the only two. What if several of their breed were stationed around the farmhouse? He had to be sure.

  Backing away, Ghost decided it was time to scout his surroundings. If luck had been with the tall Texan, and their encounter was purely random, then he’d dispatch the two nosey lawmen at his leisure. If there was an army surrounding the country home, then it was time to do as he always did – fade away like a spirit in the night.

  An hour later, he returned to the modest dwelling, sure that only two people were watching, but completely puzzled by the discovery. Why only two? If the authorities were onto their operations, there should be dozens of law enforcement surrounding the property.

  He entered via the back door, pleased to find the training class was already in full swing. The members of his cell from Lake Charles had paired off the newcomers. Each was going over the upcoming mission, step by step.

  The team Ghost inherited had been trained in Egypt, benefactors of a Wahabi program hidden deep in the bowels of a small mosque. They were now training a second group of believers, one that had been sleeping in Texas for over a year.

  After a quick tour, Ghost was convinced the instruction was going well.

  The Mexican was pacing the floor, keeping watch and seemingly out of his element. Ghost motioned him back to the kitchen.

  “We have company,” Ghost informed his second in command. “A man and a woman are parked up the road. I think they followed me from the truck stop last night.”

  The former coyote’s eyes opened wide at the news. “Let’s get the fuck out of here then,” he whispered.

  “No, not yet. I’m not sure they know what is going on. At least not all of it. The fact that there are only two leads me to believe they are…. What is the term? Fishing.”

  “They will come in force,” replied the now-frightened man. “They always do.”

  Ghost nodded his agreement, “If they know of our operation. I have met this man before, some weeks back in Jerusalem. I think he was working security for the Texas consulate there.”

  “A ranger, no doubt,” the Mexican hissed. “They guard the Texas president now.”

  “But what is a ranger doing here in Arkansas, alone, without any local authorities?” the team leader asked. “I think he recognized me and is simply being nosey.”

  The statement caused the Mexican to settle down, his mind now working to solve the puzzle. Finally, he offered, “The rangers like to work alone. They’re almost always in small groups. You said the second person was a woman… perhaps his wife or girlfriend? Maybe you’re right. Maybe he was traveling and became aware of something odd that drew his attention.”

  Ghost stepped to the sink, filling a plastic tumbler with tap water and then draining the liquid quickly. His expression changed, a decision having been made.

  “I will hurry the instructors. They will have to finish in the next few hours. In the meantime, you and I will prepare the house. If our friends from Texas decide to investigate further, we’ll be ready for them.”

  The Mexican didn’t like it. “Ambushing cops never turns out well, my friend. Are you sure this is wise? What if the rangers have already called in reinforcements from local law enforcement? What if they’re just waiting until help arrives?”

  Ghost smiled at his nervous subordinate. “Then we will run rather than fight. My gut tells me that the two out in the car have no desire to involve the local police. The man probably doesn’t want to share the credit for a career-boosting arrest. I’ve seen the same in policemen all over the world. Regardless, we’ll be ready for either option. The most important thing is that the mission isn’t compromised. Our people must succeed; doing so will push Texas over the edge.”

  The subordinate agreed, his respect for Ghost barely overriding the fear that ate at his core.

  “If they come, they’ll come at dawn. This is what I want you to do in the next three hours,” Ghost began.

  Ranger Hinton arrived just as the false dawn was peaking in the east.

  “This better be good, Zach. We’re all in chest-deep shit if this becomes a cluster fuck,” the big man greeted.

  Zach filled his co-worker in on what had transpired during the night.

  A long whistle piped from Buck’s throat, quickly followed by a grimace that commanded his expression. “Wish we had a few more rangers along for the ride.”

  “I’m going to leave it up to you, Hinton,” Zach stated. “My career is already down the shitter as far as Major Putnam is concerned. We can call the locals and wait, or we can try to handle this oursel
ves. It’s your call.”

  The big officer shook his head and snorted a sharp laugh, “The devil or the deep blue sea? Thanks for that, Zach. With friends like you….”

  “I know I don’t get a vote,” Sam chimed in, “But I say we knock on the door and find out what’s going on. They’ll most likely try to run after they realize we’re onto them. We’ll have probable cause then, and we can call in the cavalry.”

  “Or they could open up with automatic weapons,” Zach added. “And let’s not forget that there are a bunch of them.”

  “We can hold them in there until help arrives. They’ll have no way of knowing if there are three or twenty of us. Ranger Temple has a point.”

  “So that’s the plan?” Sam asked, now not so happy she’d spoken up.

  “Yup. Let’s do this. We are rangers, after all.”

  “I’ll come up from the back,” Zach announced. “I know the way. Buck, you announce our presence at the front door. Sam, cover the driveway side.”

  Everyone agreed, but then Zach hesitated. “I’ve only got one spare mag for my pistol. You didn’t happen to bring along any additional firepower per chance?”

  Hinton shook his head, “No. Crossing the border with a trunk full of battle rifles didn’t seem like a good idea. Besides, you said there was only one guy inside.”

  “Shit. Sam, what about you?”

  “I’ve got two spares in my purse. I thought the war was going to be at my dad’s birthday party, not out here in the boonies with a gang of terrorists.”

  The three lawmen exchanged questioning glances, Zach finally making the call. “This goes against the ranger handbook, but I say we bluff our way through. We’ve all done it before.”

  Hinton agreed. “Let’s do this.”

  The trio split, Zach heading into the woods, Hinton and Sam giving him enough of a head start so that they would all arrive at the same time. A few minutes passed, and then the two remaining rangers began sneaking along the road toward the farmhouse.

  Everything looked quiet when they arrived, enough light from the pre-dawn sun allowing Hinton and Sam to scan the home and surrounding yard. “Looks like everybody’s still asleep after their late night,” Hinton assessed. “Let’s go wake them up.”

  The duo continued the trek up the driveway, weapons drawn and ready. Only the early morning birds seemed to be making a sound.

  Hinton split off, his big frame causing the porch steps to creak under the strain of his weight. Taking a position next to the threshold, he exchanged nods with Sam and then pounded hard on the doorframe. “Police officer! Open up! Police officer!”

  Hinton repeated the announcement, rattling the entire side of the dwelling with his huge knuckles.

  The blasts came from the far side of the house, a man popping from the undergrowth with an AK47 on full auto. Sam watched in horror as the white clapboard siding next to Hinton exploded in a blizzard of splinters, the impacting rounds cutting directly across Hinton’s midsection.

  Her first instinct was to render aid to the collapsing officer, commanding her now tingling legs to move. It saved her life.

  As her first step landed, the gravel driveway next to her erupted with the geysers of incoming rounds, shooters from behind her throwing lead that zipped past the lady ranger like a swarm of angry insects. She dove for the ground, every fiber of her being searching to escape the hailstorm of deadly, zipping bullets.

  A different sound reached her ears as she landed hard, a lower, deeper popping from a different direction. Rolling ungracefully in a slow motion attempt to bring her weapon to bear, she spotted Zach pumping rounds at the attackers.

  And then he was there, grabbing her arm and screaming at the top of his lungs, “Go! Go! Go!”

  Zach continued firing, backing toward the front porch as dozens of rounds zipped past the retreating ranger. Sam made it to Hinton, a scrambling pile of arms and legs trying to shoot, escape, and check on the downed officer all at the same time.

  A nearly constant stream of bullets thwacked and thumped the old house’s clapboard, miniscule flecks of paint and dust adding to the fog of confusion. They needed cover. They had to get out of the kill zone.

  With all her might, she kicked the door with an adrenaline-charged foot. It flew open, banging hard against the interior. Zach appeared beside her, reloading his weapon. After shoving Sam inside, he dragged Hinton across the floor with one hand, his other firing random shots to keep the attackers at bay.

  “Fuck!” he shouted, “We walked right into that! Fuck!”

  Another wave of lead chased the rangers to the floor, a cloud of plaster and smoke filling the air as Zach and Sam dove prone to escape. Then it stopped.

  While Zach crawled to a window and peeled back the taped paper for a look outside, Sam decided to check on Hinton.

  The big ranger had tears running down his cheeks, a shroud of fear and pain dominating his face. “They got me pretty good,” he gasped. “I always heard being gut shot was the worst. I can confirm that rumor to be more than urban legend.”

  Sam ignored his words, yanking open the lawman’s shirt and then unzipping his Kevlar vest. Despite her best intentions, she inhaled sharply when a roll of the man’s intestines fell to the floor.

  “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered.

  “Bullshit,” Buck replied. “I’m not some rookie. My armor wasn’t designed to stop an AK round. They got me, Sam.”

  “We’ll get you help,” she said, reaching for her cell. “You just hang on.”

  “They’re regrouping,” Zach called from the window. “How’s Hinton?”

  “Zach, you’d better come over here.”

  For a moment, the ranger seemed puzzled by his partner’s voice. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he understood. “Buck,” Zach managed to respond, the single word sticking in the back of his throat as he stared down at the big man’s wounds. “Oh shit, brother.”

  “It’s cool, Zach. Actually, it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

  The moment was broken by another fusillade of incoming fire, driving both uninjured rangers to the floor. It stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and then a different noise filled the old house.

  Zach could hear motors being started… and more than one. Were they leaving?

  He counted as the vehicles rolled past from the barnyard, Sam doing her best to help Hinton. After a bit, Zach announced in a disappointed voice, “Four of them left. The rest are still out there.”

  Again, gunfire slammed into the tired building, this time hitting closer to the floor and more intense. The walls were bare to the studs in places, the front of the house affording less and less cover as the lead chewed away at the structure.

  Zach returned fire, but the shots were quick and blind, a desperate attempt to keep their attackers at bay. Again, his .45 locked back empty. “I’m out,” he stated.

  Sam pulled two spares from her purse, sliding the ammo across the floor.

  With a grin, Zach reloaded and unleashed another volley at the front yard. He was positive he wasn’t hitting anything.

  In response, the shooters outside initiated another salvo, making the interior a living hell of pulverized plaster, splintered wood, and shards of glass.

  “Come on… let’s get Hinton to the back!” Zach yelled over the bedlam, returning a few shots. “They’re chewing this place to bits.”

  Half-crawling, half-running in a crouch, the two rangers managed to haul Hinton’s frame to the kitchen. Zach yanked the refrigerator over on its side, desperate to make a barricade.

  “They’ll be coming any time now,” Zach announced. “I’m down to three rounds. No way we can survive an assault.”

  “Why don’t they run?” Sam asked, her voice in a near panic. “They’ve pinned us down. They can leave anytime they want.”

  Voices from outside drifted back to the rangers, shouts and commands making it clear that the shooters were getting ready to enter the home.

  Hinton groaned,
one arm rising to point at a silver pipe leading to the stove. “Is that a gas line?” he croaked.

  Without thinking, Zach answered, “Yeah. Why?”

  With superhuman effort, the big ranger managed to raise his head. “Because I’m not going to make it, one way or the other. The pain is getting the better of me, and I can feel the blood pooling under my back. Give me a pack of matches and bust open that line, Zach. You and Sam crawl down into the root cellar.”

  “What?” Sam responded. “Are you crazy? We’ll get out of this, Buck. Cease that bullshit right now. Besides, this house doesn’t have a root cellar.”

  “No,” Zach’s surprisingly calm voice interrupted. “But there’s a basement. Right over there,” he continued, pointing with his head.

  Before Sam could utter another word, Zach tugged open a nearby drawer, and then a second. He reached inside and produced a box of matches.

  “This is absolutely-fucking-nuts,” Sam protested, seeing the look in her partner’s eye. “No.”

  Hinton and Zach exchanged looks, and then Zach fixed his dejected gaze on Sam. “They’re going to come in,” he said. “And Hinton isn’t going to make it, one way or the other.”

  “Let me go out the right way,” the big man rasped. “Let me take as many of those sons-ah-bitches with me as I can. It’s the only way.”

  Before Sam could protest again, a voice sounded from the front. “You people inside… give up. I promise you won’t be hurt if you surrender.”

  “Yeah, right,” Zach whispered. “Those fuckers behead prisoners and sell little girls into slavery. You bet they’ll let us go.”

  “Zach,” Hinton’s weaker voice interjected. “I can’t hold out much longer. Fill this bitch up with gas. You and Sam head downstairs. I’ll take care of those fuckers.”

  The ranger nodded, scooting across the floor, and with a single kick, dislodged the gas line from the rear of the stove. The smell of rotten eggs immediately drifted into the room. “Good luck, buddy,” Zach said, reaching for Hinton’s hand.

  No longer able to protest, Sam bent over the injured ranger and kissed his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. “We’ll make sure they all pay.”