by Javan Bonds
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“Holy shit. You have to let me shoot this thing!” Redstone said with giddiness as he and Alvarez stood over a table that held several different military weapons.
He had just pointed to an M4 with a grenade launcher, and the sergeant replied, “Not now, but I’ll see what I can do.” Alvarez was actually sincere, even though Sherman had said these people were more worthless than dirt unless they could help the unit reach their objective. But it was fun to see someone shoot an automatic weapon for the first time.
“And the grenade launcher too?” he pleaded.
The sergeant had to laugh. “That’s a pretty big boom, but we might can work something out.”
“So what is your name, anyway, Sergeant Alvarez?” Redstone asked.
His tour guide replied, “Bolivar Alvarez…”
Redstone didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes made the sergeant pause. Redstone dropped his jaw and could barely contain his glee. “Holy shit! Lonesome Dove! Bol!”
Alvarez stopped and smiled with uncertainty. Lonesome Dove—wasn’t that some old John Wayne movie or something? And, of course, he had no idea who Bol was, but he had never had a nickname, and this one didn’t seem too bad, even though Bolivar wasn’t his real name. He responded with almost a question—“yeah”—and then asked his own question: “What about you? Your mother didn’t name you Redstone.” He ended with confidence but realized by the time he finished speaking that she could have, and he didn’t want the guy to think he was an ass.
Redstone shrugged as he said, “Nah, its Cliff Stone. But no one but Mrs. Pike has called me by my first name in years.” He ended the sentiment on a sarcastic note and with a grin. “Probably has something to do with my dad working at the arsenal, and might have something to do with my hair.”
After looking at one of the rifles a little longer in silence, Redstone finally said, “You know, this outfit has some pretty badass names.”
Alvarez gave a confused look, and, before he could ask, Redstone said, “Sherman’s initials are hilarious.”
Bol cocked his head to the side in misunderstanding and then chuckled as he realized what the guy was talking about. And then he remembered something else. “He’s out on patrol right now, but you’ll have to meet Private Freeman. Guess what his middle name is.”
Redstone replied hopefully, “Morgan?”
Alvarez laughed and said, “Almost that good. It’s Gordon.”
Redstone acted as if this was the best news he had ever heard and said with astonishment, “No way, dude. That is awesome!”
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This dude was a fucktard. He was actually worried about his shotgun. No one around here would be going duck hunting anytime soon, but Sherman really wasn’t worried about one old man with a double barrel. He said what he thought would keep the mayor on his side. “I think we can allow federal employees to keep firearms.” Sherman had to fight the urge to smile as the mayor took a big gulp.
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“So do you play COD? I have one of these!” Redstone hefted an M4 as he smiled from ear to ear.
“No, I’m more of a Gears man. I’ve played COD, but you can get more involved in the Gears story.” They could both talk about video games for the rest of the night, but the sergeant knew they needed to wrap things up in here so the two locals could leave before the drugs had time to take effect.
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No, you retard, I don’t want to come to your house and have fried chicken and watermelon with you and your sister-wife. “That is very generous. I would be glad to come to your house for supper.” He accented the last word as if he was intrigued by the vernacular of the region. This guy needs to hurry up and finish his drink.
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As they walked out of the room that Redstone decided was their temporary barracks, he asked questions about various armaments almost as rapidly as a child who had just been to the dinosaur exhibit at a museum. “So what’s the feet per second on a fifty-caliber sniper? How many rounds a second can this one fire? Where’s the bipod?”
This guy was so awestruck, it was annoying, but at least he could appreciate firearms. Redstone seemed likeable after you got to know him; he kept the attention of Sergeant Alvarez. Even if this cop survived after they found the target, the sergeant would be gone, and the cop couldn’t know their real identities or their true objective. Don’t get attached; don’t make friends; these people are just tools I can use to complete my job.
The sergeant tried to answer each question as it was asked but finally just came up and said, “Come on, man. I’ll tell you about all this later. Sherman needs to video link with our superiors at nineteen hundred hours, and civilians aren’t cleared to sit in on that.”
Technically Redstone was a federal employee, but he didn’t question the sergeant’s logic. Redstone gave Alvarez his best sad face and quivered his lip, but the sergeant couldn’t back down from orders. He crossed his arms and turned to face Redstone. “Dude, tomorrow!” Alvarez spun on his heel 180 degrees and began walking to the secretary’s office. He could hear Redstone’s exaggerated sigh and dejected footsteps as he began following.
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Sherman looked at his watch and was about to give the planned excuse why the locals needed to leave, but just then Alvarez and that redheaded cop came into view. Sherman rose and shouted at them, “Welcome back! Sergeant Alvarez, did our guest enjoy his tour?” Guest? He was going to have to learn this stupid bumpkin’s name, since he knew he would be here for at least another week.
Alvarez barked, “Sir, yes sir! He is hoping to come back tomorrow and go over more of our equipment.”
That is just great. I’ll have to put up with the dumbass again tomorrow; hopefully he can “accidentally” fatally injure himself with some of that equipment. Sherman was getting a headache just from looking at the stupid grin on Hillbilly Cop’s face, so he looked toward Alvarez and said, “I believe we’re pretty much done in here, so if you would please escort these two gentlemen to their vehicle…” He left the sentence hanging, hoping the two men would understand his polite “get the fuck out.”
The mayor downed the last of his drink and unsteadily stood. He smiled as if to say the whiskey was doing what it does best.
“Sherman, I thank you for the talk and hope you save some of that whiskey for the next time I come,” the mayor said with a small stutter. He was usually pretty good at holding his liquor; this stuff was pretty stout.
Once you go out that door, we will never talk again. Sherman moved forward to shake the mayor’s hand as he said, “Of course! I hope to see you soon, and I can’t wait to meet your wife.”
Sherman stepped back as Alvarez led the two out the front door and exchanged a nod with the damn cop.
The three walked down the steps of the front porch and made their way to the police truck. Redstone, walking beside the mayor, could see that the mayor was sweating profusely and dabbing his forehead. Damn, he thought. I know its July, but it’s not that hot. Of course the mayor had a sport coat hanging over one arm, and his necktie was completely unfastened and almost sticking to his short-sleeved shirt.
When they reached the truck, Alvarez opened the passenger door and gestured for the mayor to enter. As the elder man, who was nearly leaving a trail of perspiration behind him, stepped up into the cab, Redstone noticed Alvarez’s face twitch to a strange look, but it immediately became an emotionless mask again. Redstone thought it looked like a brief expression of sadness or sorrow or possibly guilt.
He brushed the thought away as the sergeant came to his open window to say good-bye. “I’ll show you some more cool stuff tomorrow, man.”
The two men simultaneously reached out for a handshake as Redstone said, “Hell, that’s the only reason I’m coming back! You got to get me the OK to go shoot some shit.”
Alvarez immediately replied, “I will, dude. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you.” Redstone backed out of the park
ing spot, thinking that if Alvarez was from around here, he would be all right to hang out with. He made his way out of the small parking lot and turned to take the mayor home. As he swung the truck around, he could see the sergeant walking back into the building and was sure he could see Sherman watching their vehicle out of the window and smiling.
CHAPTER 16
July 16
THAT OLD MAN was going to die, and it was partly his fault. Once the truck had passed out of sight, Alvarez moved faster to the door. As he made his way up the steps and closed the door behind him, he hurriedly turned the corner and, unusually breaking from character, asked without permission, “What did you give him?”
Sherman looked up from his laptop and calmly said, “Digitec.” He said this as if the sergeant knew exactly what that was, but after seeing the perplexed expression on Alvarez’s face, he explained, “It’s a heart medication. I gave him enough that it will look identical to a heart attack without a detailed autopsy.” Sherman smiled wickedly.
The sergeant tried to remain expressionless. He wanted to shout, “But the man was going to go along with you!” But he knew that Sherman would have some excuse as to why he would be an obstacle, and all he could ask was, “Will it hurt?”
Sherman’s smile faded to disgust. “Aww, does Alvarez feel bad for the stupid rednecks? Just so you won’t cry yourself to sleep, know that it won’t hurt. He will just pass out within the next few hours, and it will appear he died in his sleep.”
Alvarez could take some solace in that; at least it would be easy. Alvarez was fairly new to the agency, and even though he had taken out quite a few targets, this felt wrong. He felt he might be sick. His previous targets had been terrorists or mobsters; this man had never done anything! As guilty as he felt, he knew Sherman would not lose any sleep, because the mayor had been an obstacle, and no matter how figuratively small an obstacle, every one of them had to be cleared out of the way to reach the objective. He hoped Redstone would not be one of those obstacles.
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The police truck had almost come to his destination, and Redstone had just realized he had been doing pretty much all of the talking. The ride to the mayor’s house was not far from town hall, but as he had talked about different things and the MCU and how badass all the guns were, the mayor had merely grunted in acknowledgment. Redstone didn’t have to worry about traffic, so he took a full glance at the mayor and could see the man looked on the verge of passing out. He had lost all color in his face, he was sweating more profusely than usual, and he seemed to not be able to pay attention to anything. As Redstone turned his eyes back to the road, he asked with a sense of worry, “Damn, Webb, I know you just drank whiskey, but are you that cheap of a drunk?”
It seemed to take longer than usual for the mayor to hear the words, and he finally said, “No, I’m just sleepy. God, it has never been this hot!” The mayor wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, and then his arm fell outside the already-open window.
When Redstone pulled the truck into the driveway and stopped, he asked sincerely, “Do you need some help getting in the house?”
The mayor groggily responded, “That’s all right. The door’s probably unlocked, and even if it ain’t, I got a key.” He made a deep sigh and opened the door to slowly make his way down from the cab. Redstone could see as he closed his door and walked around the front of the truck that Webb was as tired as he had ever seen him—more tired than Redstone himself was after working all of last week! He decided Webb either had some sleeping disorder or really was drunk and that the man needed to go to bed.
Webb stumbled and weaved in and out of the path until getting within just a few feet of the door. He slowly turned to look back at the truck and shouted, “Are you going to pick me up tomorrow, Stone?”
I got guns and shit to shoot tomorrow. I don’t want to bother with your slow ass. Redstone yelled back, “You look pretty beat. I’ll stop by in the morning to see if you’re up to going.”
And he thought for a second that the mayor had fallen asleep standing up, but he yelled back, “That works. I’ll see you.”
As Webb unsteadily turned back to the door, Redstone responded to his back, “See you.” He continued to watch the drunken mayor as he put the truck into reverse, and before he could even begin backing out, he noticed that the mayor stopped his stumbling pace, stood ramrod straight, and fell over sideways into the grass.
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“Jeff?” Redstone was speaking into the handset of the truck’s CB radio and calling for Jeff Pike, who, of course, had a CB radio at his house. When Webb had collapsed, Redstone had gotten out and sprinted to his side. The man wasn’t dead, but Redstone could not seem to rouse him no matter what he did. He had even gone to the door and called the mayor’s wife and explained how the mayor had been acting since they had left town hall. It had not surprised her that her husband had had a few drinks; he had the occasional glass of whiskey. And she did not understand why they were not able to wake him, either.
“Jeff, come on, man!” Redstone had known that the Pikes had been on the citizens band for years, and when everything started going to shit, Jeff had discussed with him how if he was ever in trouble he should call Jeff, and he would answer. Redstone was receiving no response; the old bastard was probably asleep!
Just as he was about to let loose a string of profanities into the handset, Jeff’s transmission came. “Sorry, man. I was taking a piss. What’s happening?”
Redstone was relieved to get a reply and tried to give a short explanation. “I’m at the mayor’s house, and the mayor is unconscious in the yard. What should I do?”
Redstone explained in more detail, and after a few suggestions it was clear to Jeff that he would not be much use over a radio, and he offered, “You want me to come see what I can do?”
Redstone knew that the mayor was in a bad way and that he had no idea what to do; Jeff wasn’t a doctor, but he might be able to do more. “Hell yes! I don’t know why I can’t get him to wake up.”
Jeff responded, “I can get there in about five minutes. Just try dumping buckets of water on him.”
Redstone dropped the handset in the seat, hurriedly turned around, and jogged back toward the mayor. Linda let out a scream that almost made Redstone have a heart attack. He ran faster. Linda was on her knees beside her husband, holding his face and wailing as Redstone hit his knees on the opposite side of the mayor. The mayor’s eyes were closed, and he was no longer breathing. But Redstone had known the score when he had heard the first scream.
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Jeff exited his truck to open the front gate, and even though it almost made him sick to do so, he was not planning to stop and close the gate behind him. He was in a hurry, and those few precious seconds might mean a man’s life.
He walked briskly to the gate. Besides the sound of his own vehicle, the only things he could hear were the sounds of nature: crickets, cicadas, the occasional nocturnal bird, and coyotes yipping. The only lights he could see as he reached the gate were the moon and stars. There were no lights from neighboring cities lighting the sky, and as he spun around to return to his truck, he felt a momentary fear because there were no lights in Jackson’s house. He knew, of course, that there would be no lights, but it had always put him at ease to know that his son was home. Even though he was not outwardly emotional, he felt better knowing that his son was safe at home. Jackson was the only son he could ever have, and the responsibility of carrying on the family name had fallen to Jackson. So the boy meant more to him than he could ever express. Jackson was at home, and there was nowhere else for him to be. This thought eased Jeff’s mind.
He pulled himself back into the truck, and, as his front tires hit pavement, Redstone’s voice came through the CB. “Jeff?” Redstone asked in a calm tone.
Jeff reached for the handset and called back, “I’m in the truck, and I’ll be there in a minute.” Jeff had some aspirin in the field kit in his glove box, but he wasn’t t
oo sure he could do anything about a heart attack.
Redstone came back solemnly. “Don’t worry about it, man. He’s gone.”
Jeff was taken aback. He had graduated with the mayor’s sister, and he had voted for him. Everybody said good things about Webb. Jeff asked, “Gone?”
Redstone responded, “Yeah, he stopped breathing a minute ago.”
Dammit! If I had been there sooner, I might could have saved him.
It seemed Redstone could read Jeff’s thoughts, as he said, “It’s not your fault, man. There’s no way you could have gotten here in time.”
“So do you still want me to come over there?” He knew there wasn’t much he could do, but he felt he should ask.
Having been to the homes of the elderly after they had died, Redstone felt as though he could handle it and said, “No, sir. I think I can deal with it.”
Jeff was slowly applying the brakes and had come to a complete stop when he asked, “Are you sure?”
“There’s nothing here that two people can do better than one. I got it.”
Jeff turned around in the road and began his journey back to his property, where he would promptly shut the gate behind him. He said, “Well, all right, but you can call me if you need me.”
“OK. Thanks,” Redstone responded.
Having not shut the gate on his way out had bothered Jeff more than expected; he was paranoid and could not remember the last time he had left it open. Even though he was not really worried about intruders, it was just something that was never done. When he got out of his truck to close the gate, he saw that no unexpected tire tracks had appeared since he had left.
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After Redstone and the mayor’s wife carried the corpse of the mayor into the house and laid him on the couch, he was wishing Jeff had come. This corpse was heavy. There wasn’t any hope of consoling Mrs. Cobb; she was a mess, and the best thing for it was getting it out of her system. She knew that her husband was dead. There was no denying that, but she kept talking to the dead body and holding his cold hand. Good God, lady, he ain’t coming back.