by Javan Bonds
“Well, he said we can lock him up.” Jeff’s statement made his son almost jump; he had not been asleep, but he had not heard his father approach. He looked over to see Private Freeman readying himself to be cut from his bonds as Jeff brandished a hunting knife while reaching with his other hand to retrieve another zip tie from the belt pouch he had obviously stolen from Freeman’s or Green’s body. Freeman was sweating profusely and seemed glad to be getting out of the tin can in what he must have thought was murderous Alabama heat; Jackson considered it fairly warm.
Old Ben had stopped by the front right tire when he saw that Redstone and one of the other National Guardsmen were coming onto the scene, and he briefly explained to them what was going on. Jackson stepped out of the open door of the truck and waited for orders, but they all remained silent until Jeff began walking Private Freeman to the sidewalk.
Jackson held his rifle across his chest and followed his father but halted when his father turned his head. “That’s all right. Mr. Kennard and I got it.”
Old Ben fell in behind Jeff, and the two older men walked to the front porch and inside. Jackson was subconsciously afraid to leave his father alone with these people after what had happened to Keith.
As the door swung shut behind them, Redstone excitedly told Jackson, “You’ve got to bring your Xbox controller up here tomorrow!”
“Why?”
Nodding at his friend, Redstone winked with the eye opposite Sergeant Alvarez and said in a not-too-convincing tone, “Because we’ll have power, and I’m going to bring my Xbox, so we can play.” He gestured to the man standing beside him.
◆◆◆
“Just scare the bitch; she should be the only one at home,” said Sherman over the radio. He had already explained the goal to Private Tyler.
Driving to the residence of Jeff Pike, Nathan Tyler held the handset. But before sending a response, he glanced to his partner in the passenger seat, Michaels, who answered the unspoken question without even meeting Tyler’s gaze. “Sounds good to me.” It kind of freaked Tyler out that Michaels always seemed to know if someone was looking at him, even if his eyes were closed.
“Roger, Sarge. We are on our way. Over and out.” He rested the handset back in the receiver and heard Michaels crack his knuckles and pop his neck, limbering up. “You know, we won’t be fighting anybody. He just wants us to scare this lady.”
Tyler could now feel Michaels’s eyes on him as the former college linebacker responded, “Yeah, well, you never know.”
Nathan Tyler was from Saint Paul, Minnesota, but the man wearing his name, Craig Reeves, was from Southwest Montana. Although he did not consider himself a racist, he had never interacted with many blacks growing up. He wasn’t really sure if it was the man’s skin color or the fact that Michaels was massive and spoke in cryptic sentences. They had been partnered on the highway bridge on the north side of town together for a while, but they had not become friends. Tyler had not gotten Michaels’s first name or even his actual name. This was not because either disliked the other. They had merely been impersonally polite since they had been assigned to the command of the mysterious Sherman.
The Humvee turned onto a gravel driveway and immediately stopped at a gate. Should we run it down? Sherman had not said anything about a gate, but before Tyler could get the question out of his mouth, Michaels began opening the door. “I’ll get it.” Tyler couldn’t tell if Michaels sounded irritated or dutiful and waited to pull through until after the gate was opened. After pulling the gate wide, Michaels climbed back into the vehicle, and they moved down the bumpy gravel driveway.
◆◆◆
“…at home.” After a pause Sherman heard Tyler’s reply and set his receiver back in the cradle. If that little piss ant calls me Sarge in front of these hayseeds, I’m going to rip his fucking balls off; we’re supposed to look like professional soldiers. Just as he was about to call Tyler and chew him out for not using military lingo, he heard the front door open. The two old guys were pretty damn proud of their citizens’ arrest; he could tell by their cheery voices. It pissed him off.
When they reached the entrance to the office, the three men stopped, and Jeff Pike spoke. “Do you want to come with us, or should we just take him back there? I know where it is.”
I don’t want to get up for you bum fucks. Freeman is just going to cry and tell me how mean you are. I’ll let him out when I think he’s calmed down.
Sherman made himself look busy on his laptop. “I think you can handle it, sirs. The cell door is open at the moment, and all you have to do is shut it to lock it.”
Pike nodded, and they once again began to move down the hall.
◆◆◆
Denise and Hollis were sitting in rocking chairs and stringing green beans into a bowl on the back porch. Because the porch was covered by the large roof of the carport, Jeff had finally agreed to let his nephew go outside during the day, as long as he stayed under it. Hollis and Denise had been discussing his schooling and what his future plans were as if everything were normal, and Hollis had come to accept that college may not be an option for anyone for a long time. People would still teach, and others would learn from them, but after weeks of listening to his uncle and the old guy who was living there, he was becoming convinced this was the beginning of the end of the America he had been born into.
“If your internship was going to be complete before your senior year started, then you were not going to be up there much longer.”
Hollis could not tell whether that was a question or a statement; he only nodded and waited for his aunt to continue.
They both jumped to their feet when they heard the crackling gravel beneath the tires of a vehicle coming down the driveway. Denise was surprised she had not heard either of the driveway alarms inside the house. They hurried into the kitchen, and Denise went to the dining-room window to watch and see if she knew the vehicle and which door the visitors would be approaching. Walking behind her Hollis turned to head to the bunker; days ago his uncle had explained to him how to unlock it, get in, lock it, and get out, and to always lock it. There was no reason for anyone who did not already know he was staying there to find out.
“Who is it?” The teenager called as he traveled down the hallway.
Denise watched, expecting to see Keith’s truck piled full of her boys. Perhaps they had tried to reach her on the CB, and she had not heard that either.
Her heart dropped as the vehicle passed the corner of the shed, and she felt a fear that was almost completely foreign to her. Good grief. “It’s a military vehicle! Get your butt in the Batcave!”
The vehicle stopped almost perpendicular to the corner of the house just at the edge of the grass, and, after a few agonizing moments, two men eased out and slowly walked to the side door.
So what does Sherman expect us to say to this lady? What’s going to be our excuse for coming up to her house? I’m not a scary guy, and I really don’t think I would do a good job. I’m sure as hell not going to let Michaels do the talking, a black guy that size. Coming to my door unannounced would scare the shit out of me, and on top of that, this is Alabama!
Michaels slowed to stay one step behind Tyler. “You can take care of the bitch.”
Dammit, can he read my thoughts? I don’t hate black people, Michaels. Maybe he just realized the same thing I did. He’s a giant black man in the rural South. I’ve seen The Green Mile.
Tyler mounted the wooden steps and was about to say something like “let’s do this” or some other cool movie line just as the door cracked open behind the security door.
Denise gripped the Ruger LCR .38 revolver on her hip with her hand behind the door and spoke through the small screen in the security door at about face level. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” She could not remember the last time she had felt like fainting because of emotions, but she felt this might be one of those times.
The young man acted unsure of himself and twitched. “We’re just checking the hous
es on this road to see if you have seen anything suspicious or need anything.” The soldier paused, trying to decide whether he had made a statement or was asking a question, and then he finished. “Do you?”
The ice around her heart somewhat melted; this soldier was stopping by only to see if he could serve. “No, I think we’re good here.” Her grip on the pistol loosened. She was not as scared as she had originally been, but she was still a little wary of the big soldier with the creepy look on his face just in the corner of her vision.
◆◆◆
When Jeff and Old Ben arrived back outside, they found three young men cracking jokes and talking about video games. Jeff explained they would leave the Humvee there, and they would all load into—he stopped himself from using Keith’s name and simply told them to climb into the back, and they would ride home. It seemed a little weird to all the other civilians when Redstone shook hands to say good-bye to the National Guardsman; this guy worked with the man who had murdered his father.
When they were on the road and out of sight of town hall, Jackson looked to his friend at the opposite side of the truck bed. “What the hell was that?”
Redstone appeared to be completely ignorant about what Jackson was referring to. “What?”
But then the light bulb came on, and Jackson said, “Wait, that was Bol!”
“Yeah, man, that’s Bol, the Mexican dude who came over to your house. I don’t think he likes any of the other guys. This is just the marine unit he got stuck with. Shit, I don’t think anyone likes ASS.”
Jackson lifted his chin at the mention of Bol. He recognized the name and smirked at Redstone’s frequently missed labeling of the National Guard unit stationed in Dodge and the humorous nickname he had given to Sergeant First Class Abraham Samuel Sherman.
This was a sufficient explanation for Jackson not to hate Sergeant Alvarez. “So what games do you want to take?”
Redstone perked up at the question about their Xbox game day. “Modern Warfare!”
Jackson sighed. “Dude, let’s take some games that require some skill. Borderlands, Gears, and maybe a racing game or something.”
Redstone almost screamed with frustration, “But I don’t like those games!”
His friend smiled and stretched his arms out across the lip of the truck bed. “You suck at Call of Duty too.”
The policeman dropped his head in knowing defeat. “Fine.”
Jackson could not say why, but this casual and not uncommon bickering between him and his friend caused him to laugh out loud—a deep laugh that came from down low, and he was soon joined by the redhead. Jackson looked forward and saw his father in the driver’s seat looking with bewilderment into the rearview mirror, which Jackson found hysterical, and it caused him to laugh even more. After the horrible morning, he wasn’t sure if this was just part of the shock and this laughing fit would end with him sobbing like a baby, but he could feel this would be a common occurrence. The end of the world would not be the end of laughter for him.
CHAPTER 27
July 25
DENISE HAD OPENED the back door and unlocked the security door when she saw Keith’s truck approaching. All of the men filed in to see her sitting at the bar, shaking as if she were cold. Denise noticed that Clifford’s father was not among the group, which was strange, since they had been using his vehicle. She wanted to ask about him but was too emotional to say anything.
Damn, if she smoked, Mama would be holding an unfiltered Camel, Jackson thought.
Jackson and his father were the first to realize she was upset, and Jeff asked, “What’s wrong, babe?”
He walked to her, and she stood and threw her arms around his neck, crying, “I was so scared. They came to the door, and—” Her words were cut short when she buried her face into the crook of his shoulder.
He was momentarily stunned. He could not remember her being this upset since Jackson was three and…
“They who?” Before the question had left his mouth, he knew who “they” were. A sudden fury came over him. This was Sherman saying, “I can get to you. I know where you live, and I can take away everything you hold dear anytime I want if you piss me off.”
She answered, muffled into his shirt, “Soldiers.”
The two younger men were horrified. This woman had been a rock, someone who had almost never been sad in their lifetimes. Seeing her afraid turned them bone white and almost made them tear up. Jeff was getting visibly angry, to the point that he looked as if he was about to turn green and become Lou Ferrigno’s alter ego.
The Old Jedi was also getting angry—not nearly the monstrous rage of Jackson’s father, but noticeably angry nonetheless. The white-haired man walked past Jeff and stared through the window beyond the kitchen table, down the driveway toward the road, while Jeff consoled his wife. Jackson and Redstone had no clue what they should be doing; they basically stood there with their hands in their pockets.
Jeff asked his wife, who seemed to have regained her composure, “Where’s Hollis?”
She said between sniffles, “I sent him into the Batcave when I saw the military vehicle.”
Jeff glanced at his son, who nodded in understanding and moved toward the back of the house, motioning to his friend as he reached the entrance to the living room. Jeff walked to the table where he and Denise took a seat. She turned to face him and then the oldest and newest resident of the Pike household, who was still looking out of the window, and then back to Jeff.
Looking at the wall in front of him, Jeff asked, knowing Old Ben was listening, “So what do you think we should do?” Jeff was ready to go to town hall and shoot that son of a bitch Sherman in the forehead but waited for some words of wisdom.
“Nothing.” The old man clasped his hands together and remained with his back to the couple. “We remain here, take care of Keith’s wife, and make Sherman come to us.”
Jeff immediately swung his head to see a question mark on the face of the already-rattled Denise, who abruptly stood up. But he motioned for her to take the seat beside him and answered the obvious question. “This morning, at the bridge…”
◆◆◆
“Ain’t nowhere the little bastard could be!” Redstone was flabbergasted. They had searched every possible hiding spot in every room of the bunker, and Hollis was in none of them. Jackson rushed out the door, but Redstone was in no hurry to follow.
Jackson pushed the door open and called as he came out into the hallway, “Daddy!”
Over his own running footsteps, he could hear his father above pushing the chair on the pine shelving floorboards, concerned at the panic in his son’s voice. “What?”
“Hollis…” Jackson grabbed the doorframe as he came from the living room and took a breath. “He’s gone!”
CHAPTER 28
July 25
“IT’S A MILITARY vehicle! Get your butt into the Batcave!” The call from behind Hollis hit him in the back like a physical blow; he thought he was going to fall down right there in the hallway.
She’s joking. She can’t be serious. Do they know where I am? How long have they known? I wonder how many of them there are. If they know I’m here, they’ll search the house until they find the bunker and torture Aunt Denise until she tells them how to get in, and then they’ll come in and find me. I could build a barricade and have a bunch of guns pointed at the door, but they would still hurt her. So maybe I could just persuade her to get in the bunker with me and pretend nobody is home. I should know better. They would just break in and burn the house down. She would go down in a gunfight before she would let that happen. His mind was racing. He had to come to a decision within the next few seconds, or he would be discovered. Fight or flight, fight or flight…
Flight. He could just run. He could go to his mom’s; they wouldn’t still be expecting him to show up.
He decided he would leave the bunker door open just in case they found it. His uncle would be pissed, but he could not bear to picture his aunt beaten and disfigured for a
security code to an empty room. The phone—what about the phone? When they find the phone, they’ll still kill her just for knowing about it. Not if it isn’t here. At least I’ll still be alive, and they won’t have it.
After swinging the heavy door open, he walked inside to search the drawers in the computer desk and found his phone connected through the charger to the computer. He pocketed the phone and wrote out a short note to leave on top of the computer desk. He was still moving quietly but now with more assurance. He exited the open bunker and then turned to climb out of the window in his aunt and uncle’s bedroom.
◆◆◆
“I reckon he did. The door was open, and so was the window to y’all’s room.”
Jeff could not believe what his son was saying: the boy had run away.
The room was silent. Jackson spoke again as his father’s dropped jaw. “And there was a piece of paper.” He raised the paper in one hand and read aloud, “Phone is with me—Hollis.”
Old Ben and the elder Pike were worried but not distraught at this news, as Jackson had expected, but he understood they were probably more worried about the welfare of the teenager.