Innocent Shadows

by Warren Ray

  * * * *

  Scar stretched his legs before getting up from the jailhouse bed. It wasn’t his best sleep, but then it wasn’t his worst either. He’d gotten used to sleeping in some rough conditions over the past few months. However, in the last week or so, sleeping on the hospital beds had spoiled him. The beds were quite comfortable, and before that, they were up in Canada sleeping on even better beds.

  He looked over at Bassett and Burns, who were in the next cell over. Nordell was in the bunk above him. He got up and walked around the cell hoping the Sergeant Major had made the call to Winnipeg. The man must have thought I was crazy making such a request. Scar didn’t know the procedures in Canada and thought they might even be different from the norm for American refugees. They were happy to help, but they had to modify their rules and systems to accommodate their guest.

  Scar turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. The cool liquid woke him up and now wished he had a cup of coffee. His main concern was; would the Canadians notify the Americans that they held some of the Shadow Patriots. He wasn’t sure of what their standing was or if they were in jeopardy of extradition.

  He sat back down wishing he hadn’t decided to bring in firearms. This one thing was going to get them in the most trouble. It wasn’t even something he gave even a second thought to because of what they’d been through. He never considered not being armed.

  “Hey,” said Nordell.

  Scar looked up as Nordell came down from his perch. “Morning.”

  “You get any sleep?”

  “Not much, too many beers.”

  “We had two,” said Scar.

  Nordell stretched out his back. “I know, but then I haven’t had one in forever.”

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  “I don’t regret going to that bar.”

  “No?”

  “For once, even if it was for only a short time, it was like everything was normal. You know, just out with some friends having a beer. Nothing else going on in the world.”

  Scar stood up. “Yeah, it was kinda nice.”

  “Don’t worry about anything, we’ll get out of this.”

  “I appreciate your optimism, but I have my doubts.”

  “Look, if that Sergeant doesn’t call your general friend, we’ll get our attorney to do it.”

  “If we get one.”

  Nordell gave him a puzzled look.

  “I don’t know how things work around here, but Wilson’s demeanor changed when I told him who we were.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yep. Questioned me several different ways just to make sure I wasn’t lying.”

  “Funny, he came in to talk to me about it as well. I thought maybe because they were on our side or something.”

  This gave Scar pause, “were things not as they seemed?” He then realized that they hadn’t even gone through a booking process. They didn’t take mug shots or fingerprint them. This was odd.

  “Don’t worry, Scar, we’ll get an attorney.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

  “Of course, it might be a few days before we get released,” said Nordell.

  Scar grimaced. “Don’t know if I can take a few days in here.”

  “Hell, we’re like prisoners in Jackson anyway.”

  “It does seem that way.”

  “When we get with that general of yours, you think we can get more weapons?”

  “They’ve been extremely gracious. I don’t see why not.”

  “Good, cause I’ve some particular weapons in mind I want us to have.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Look, you guys stumbled into our little town not knowing what you were going to run into, so you didn’t come prepared.”

  “We didn’t?”

  “No, not with what we have to do. Scar, I want to defeat these bastards and I want to do it with a big offensive. I’m sick of my town starving to death because of this. We need to go to Detroit and take them out.”

  “I hear ya and I’m with ya.”

  “Good.”

  It was another hour before the guards brought them something to eat, and after they finished eating they came back holding handcuffs. They ordered them to face the wall where they cuffed them before escorting them to the windowless paddy wagon.

  “Where are you taking us?” demanded Scar.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said one of the cops.

  “You think they’re letting us go?” asked Bassett.

  “I couldn’t say,” said Scar.

  The cop shut the door and hopped into the driver’s seat. The drive took only ten minutes and the van stopped before they heard a garage door open up. Everyone sported confused looks as the van pulled in and stopped. A cop came around and opened the door. An empty feeling grew in the pit of Scar’s stomach when he stepped out of the van into a large empty warehouse. The ceiling was at least twenty-five high, and the open area was approximately five thousand square feet with a couple of rooms in the very back. The concrete floors were clean, and the air smelled of fiberglass as if the place had been used to manufacture boats at one time or another. This all made Scar figure they were still near the river. He turned to his friends, and they all had the same look on their faces. “What was going on?”

  Scar tried again to ask where they were and why were they here. The cop in charge didn’t answer and ushered them into one of the back rooms. He took their cuffs off and told them they would find out soon enough what was going to happen.

  Chapter 41

  Washington D.C.

  The morning rays were breaking over the horizon as Green, finishing a quick thirty-minute run, turned the corner toward home. The early morning jog gave him the solitude he needed to think over their audacious plan. They planned on kidnapping two of Perozzi’s men today and holding them hostage. With any luck, they’d be able to put together a shoot-out with Reed today as well.

  The plan had come together in Manassas at Senator Seeley’s place where their group met last night. The whole thing relied on their newest member, Stormy, who would lure the two men in. Her good looks should do the trick on their own, but would she be able to apply brute force if needed? How far was she willing to go? She’d already put herself in danger by mouthing off to Reed. The insecure fat man had ordered her arrest, which she was able to avoid thanks to Perozzi. That little stunt inadvertently helped them to drive the wedge between Perozzi and Reed even further.

  Perhaps Stormy could take it to the end of the road and kill if necessary. Green didn’t think she could do it without provocation though. Nothing against her, but she wasn’t a trained soldier. It was not something that came naturally unless you were well trained or a psychopath.

  Thankfully, Kyle Gibbs was a trained operator and had ten years of experience. The only reason he wasn’t out west aiding in the war effort was because of his father, Jacob, told him something wasn’t right with China attacking California. He had heard too many rumors from respectable people that the whole thing was just plain fishy. Before resigning from the FBI, he was able to pull some strings to keep his son’s name out of the hopper.

  After a shower, and then a quick breakfast with his mother, Green drove to work and parked his car in the underground parking lot. He parked further away from the entrance than usual, as he wanted to scope out the lot. He began walking down the slope and took note of spaces, which would be ideal for what he had in mind. He reached the door and turned around for one last look. He now had a good idea of what he needed to do to prepare, and that included disabling the camera pointed at the entrance.

  The mission to induce fear into Reed would take place here. It was a place he came through and where they could control the situation. Reed was typically one of the last people to leave each day, so the garage should be empty.

  Green grabbed a cup of coffee entering his office where Grace, his secretary, reminded him of a meeting he needed to attend at nine. He’d forgotten all about it and wanted to duck it, but he
couldn’t. These meetings were nothing more than ego driven drivel his colleagues needed to get through their week. The group was formed to capture Winters and the Shadow Patriots but had morphed into something entirely different. It had quickly become a way to root out anyone who opposed the government in any form. It was eye opening to watch good intentioned people go from catching a small group of rebels, to spying, and arresting, all kinds of different groups. Power definitely corrupts.

  It was ten o’clock before Green could escape the meeting and get out of the building. He needed to meet with Stormy, who was waiting for a phone call from Kyle. He had left early in the morning to monitor Perozzi’s men. Kyle had a general idea where they would be and didn’t want to chance missing them so he left before Stormy was ready.

  Green headed to one of his storage units and swapped his car for a white work van he had picked up. It was the perfect way to transport and keep their captive hidden until they needed them. He started the van and couldn’t help laughing at the irony of using the money he stole from Reed’s man, Pruitt, to use against Reed.

  Green arrived at the three-bedroom house that Stormy was renting. It sat on a quiet, tree-lined street, which appeared to be even quieter since everyone was at work. He pulled into her driveway and got out just as the front door opened.

  “Good morning, John,” said Stormy, who was wearing an above the knee, light blue sundress with lace trimming the bottom of it. Her black hair flowed over her shoulders hiding the spaghetti straps. She wore white, low top sneakers to finish off the look.

  Green’s heart skipped a beat. “Hey, Stormy.”

  “Come on in.”

  Unpacked boxes were stacked against the wall, and for furniture, she used a couple of collapsible beach chairs for furniture. They sat in front of a television, which was sitting on top of a box.

  “Sorry about the mess, haven’t really had a chance to go through all of this and don’t own any furniture. My place in New York was furnished, so I never bought any.”

  “Oh, please, it’s fine. Not only do I not own a single piece of furniture, but I’m living back at home with my mom.”

  “Well, then I’m one up on ya. You want coffee?”

  “You have some?” asked a surprised Green.

  “I can go without a lot of things, but coffee’s not one of them.”

  They entered the kitchen where a patio styled glass table substituted for a kitchen table.

  “Who ever lived here before left the table out back, so I thought it’d be perfect in here,” said Stormy.

  “Whatever works,” said an amused Green.

  “Cream or sugar?” she asked, as she poured the coffee.

  “None for me.”

  “Do all soldiers drink it black?”

  “Not all, but it does make it easier when you’re on the go.”

  “I drink it black because it’s no calories.”

  “But, of course, you do.”

  “Need to keep my girlish figure, don’t cha know,” smiled Stormy as she handed him the cup.

  Green blew on it before taking a sip and noticed how strong it was. He raised the cup and acknowledged it. He watched her take a sip and hoped she was up for the mission. She certainly was dressed to grab any man’s attention. She looked cute and innocent, but she could handle herself. They hoped to not have to take these men off the street, but instead have her lure them in close enough to the van where Green and Kyle would knock them unconscious.

  The phone rang and Stormy hustled into the living room to find the buried phone. It was Kyle and he had the first hostage picked out. Stormy set the phone back on the floor and then went her hall mirror. She stared into it took a couple of deep breaths to psych herself up. She was nervous and Green couldn’t blame her. It was going to be a tough operation.

  Chapter 42

  Port Huron Michigan

  Hadley, the young Texan, and former National Police officer, sat on the ground and rested his elbows on his knees as he held the big 10x42 binoculars to his eyes. Any slight movement made it difficult to focus the big glasses, especially something that was twenty-five hundred feet away. He took slow breaths as he looked across the Saint Clair River into Sarnia, Ontario. His nerves jumped into high gear when a police car pulled up to where his friends had tied off the canoe. Two cops got out of their cruiser and walked across a set of railroad tracks to the small dock by the sandpit. This wasn’t good as there wasn’t anyone else around who could have spotted the canoe. It took only a few seconds before the cops found the canoe and Hadley swallowed a gulp of air as he watched one of the cops pull out his pistol and fire three times. It took a few minutes for the boat to disappear under the water. Hadley cursed the cops as he watched them go back to their vehicle and take off.

  He began tapping his fingers on the binoculars. His friends were in trouble. Why else would they have sunk the canoe? But why the cops? If the cops had them, then they should be able to get lawyers and make a phone call to their friends in Winnipeg. They’d get them out of there. Hadley’s mind kept stirring around trying to come up with an answer when it finally hit him. “The reward,” he said aloud. Goosebumps formed on his arm as he realized this was the only explanation. Hadley began pacing the riverbank, wondering if someone was watching him. If they were in trouble, then maybe he was too. He started back to the SUV realizing he was on his own. He took one last look around before entering the garage where they had hidden their ride.

  He got in and tore open a power bar while contemplating his next move. “Should I stay or should I go,” he said to himself and then began singing the words. Scar told him to take off if he thought he was in danger. He looked at his watch. It was too early in the morning for the cops to be roaming the roads. If Scar and the others made it here, they could always find another ride. The thought brought him some comfort, so he turned the key and started pulling out of the garage when he remembered they’d left their big weapons in the Suburban. He got out and looked around trying to decide where best to leave their guns and which ones they would need.

  Hadley scanned the area for prying eyes before shutting the garage door. He jumped back into the Suburban and started on the return trip to Jackson. The further he got out of Port Huron, the more satisfied he was of his decision. He didn’t know what kind of help they’d be able to bring to them, but Meeks needed to know the situation.

  The two-hour drive back to Jackson took three hours as Hadley stayed off the interstates as much as possible, at least around the larger cities. There were contingents of cops still patrolling their nearly empty streets. Most of the people from places like Flint or Lansing left long ago when the trouble had begun in those areas from either the gangs or the cops themselves. Because of the close proximity, most of the residents had migrated into Canada. There were still pockets of people here and there, but for the most part, the cities were abandoned. Of course, the National Police were also forcing people out of their homes, which is where they had found most of the girls who were enslaved at the party house. For reasons Hadley didn’t understand, folks in smaller Michigan towns further south decided to stay put, while the folks up north fled. He reasoned they hadn’t wanted to leave their homes and banded together to help each other make a go of it. It was fascinating how folks in different locals handled the decisions that affected their personal well being. Some moved south, some left for Canada, but some just stayed put. The people in Jackson reminded him of his people back in Texas. You couldn’t tell them what to do if your life depended on it. They were as independently minded as you could get. Everywhere was different and everyone sure did things differently.

  Hadley was north of Jackson when he drove past the town and then drove south to a new area Bassett had found to cross enemy lines during the day. It was located down on Reynolds Road, which was off McCain Road. The road ran under the power lines that ran through the woods. It was an ideal place to drive through and keep hidden. It led you right to Highway 60 and the Jiji border, but instead of a fou
r-lane road, it was two lanes. He’d still have a five-mile hike, which he didn’t look forward to with his gimpy leg, but he was in too big of a hurry to wait until it got dark to cross.

  The Suburban rocked back and forth, as he drove through the tall grass under the power lines. The thousand-foot path turned right, but he drove straight into the trees to hide the big truck. He grabbed his weapon and silently thanked Bassett for finding a place closer than what originally would have been a ten-mile hike from Michigan 52. These long hikes were never a stroll in the park for him. His old soccer injury would flare up and his knee wouldn’t work properly because it was a prosthetic replacement. It was the reason the Army wouldn’t take him and why he joined the National Police, which had a lower standard for enlistment.

  He dashed through the woods to Highway 60, or Spring Arbor Road, as they called it in this area. This was the Jiji border. He dropped down on his stomach, crawled to the edge of the wood, and looked both ways. A car sat in the middle of the intersection of Spring Arbor Road and Reynolds Road, with another fifty yards or so to the left. Hadley strained his eyes and could barely make out that someone was in the car, but he didn’t think they’d spot him if he stayed low. So, rather than put pressure on his knees by crouching down, he decided to do a low crawl across the road. The asphalt was rough as he crossed the road. He was only halfway across when he heard the distinct sound of a car approaching.

  Chapter 43