by David Achord
I nodded. She was in no condition to be peppered with questions by uncaring people. “That’s good. She doesn’t need any further trauma.”
My response caused Fred to look at me oddly; it was more like his right eyebrow twitched a little, but he didn’t question it.
Burt was puzzled as well. “Did something happen to her?” he asked. “She didn’t look injured.”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Let’s get going.”
Fred motioned. “Hop on,” he said to me. “There’s something I want to show you two.”
Burt and Zoe followed as Fred led off. He led us to a spot on the road and pointed. Zoe spotted it first and loped up to it. It was an abandoned car, hidden by a lot of tree limbs and brush stacked against it. Zoe sniffed it over as we stared at it.
“Look familiar?” Fred asked.
“Looks just like the car those three fellas were in,” Burt said.
He was right. It was a Prius too, and it was even the same color.
Fred motioned for me to dismount and he did the same. “Let’s picket the horses here. They’ll be okay for a while.”
Fred led us deeper into the woods. Eventually, we came upon a dead body. I walked closer and knelt beside it. It was a man, nude except for underwear, and it looked like he’d been chewed on extensively by coyotes and other critters, indicating he’d never been a zombie. The man’s clothing, including a crudely made ghillie suit, were lying nearby.
“Yep, he’s dead,” I said.
“You think?” Burt asked facetiously.
“Did you shoot him?” I asked.
“Knife,” Fred replied. “I didn’t want to waste a bullet.”
“So you snuck up on him and knifed him?” Burt asked.
“Yeah,” Fred answered. “He was too focused on you and that girl in the guard shack. He never saw me and he didn’t have any backup.”
Burt whistled in appreciation.
“I’m not following,” I said.
He pointed. “Go that way a little bit and you’ll come up on the perimeter fence. He was spying on you people. I’d say he was planning on doing something nasty.”
“So, why’d you strip him down to his panties?” Burt asked.
“Makes it easier for the critters. They need to eat too.”
Burt nodded like it made perfect sense. “Too bad his face is all chewed up; it’d be nice if I could’ve seen what he looked like. Could’ve been I might’ve knowed him.”
Fred pointed at what was left of his right forearm. “He had a tattoo of a snake. I think it was supposed to be a cobra, but it was crudely drawn. Probably a jailhouse tat, and his tongue was split.”
Burt frowned. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“He was scouting the place out?” I asked, although Fred had already said as much. He nodded patiently.
“Him and those other three driving the exact same kind of car, that’s too much of a coincidence,” Burt said. I agreed.
I searched through his pants. Fred must have read my mind.
“He had a fob for that car. I put it behind the driver’s side tire. He didn’t have anything else but a rifle, knife, a Bic lighter, and this.” Fred pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. When I unfolded it, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Burt looked at it over my shoulder and whistled again.
We went back to the car. I knew Fred had already searched it, but he remained quiet while I searched it again. The interior was filthy and smelled like BO. There was some dirty clothing, a blanket, a couple of jugs of water, a can of chili, and a toiletry kit, but nothing of significance. It started easily.
“Let’s take it back,” I said. The men agreed. Zoe reluctantly jumped in and rode with me.
I parked beside the other Prius, which had been moved to the side of the road. Zoe growled at Peggy as we walked by her.
The mess had been cleaned up, and it even looked like someone had spread fresh dirt on the bloodstains. There were two new guards present.
“Has anyone seen Melvin?” I asked.
“Not lately,” one of them said and pointed at an approaching golf cart. Captain Fosswell was driving. “I was ordered to call as soon as you showed up.”
I waited for the captain to stop and walked up to him. “Do you know where Melvin is?”
He ignored my question. “Come with me,” he ordered.
“Where are we going?”
“You don’t ask me questions. Now turn over your weapon and get in the cart.”
I stared at him for a moment and then stepped forward so that we were only inches apart. I spoke in a low voice so the guards couldn’t hear me.
“I’m not in the mood for attitude from anybody at the moment. Either change your tone or piss off.”
To my surprise, his hand started drifting toward the handgun holstered on his hip.
“Go ahead and try it,” I challenged as I adjusted the grip on my M4.
He tried to give me a hard stare, couldn’t do it, and put his hand back on the steering wheel.
“Do you want me to tell the command staff you are refusing to meet with them?” he asked. The arrogance was still there, not as significant, but it was still there.
“I want you to get rid of the attitude,” I replied. “I’ve been through enough bullshit for one day, it sounds like I’m about to go through some more bullshit, and I haven’t had any sleep in about,” I looked at my watch, “twenty hours now.”
He gave me a look and then stared straight ahead. “My orders are to escort you to the conference room for a debriefing.”
I sighed, walked around to the passenger side of the golf cart, and got in.
“Make a detour over to the kennels and I’ll put Zoe up.”
Chapter 28 – The Interrogation
We walked to the main conference room. The big one. They should put a sign on the door, “The Big Room,” or something like that. It was full of people.
There was POTUS, Raymond and Earl, Secretary Stark, his aides, General Fosswell, and an assortment of politicians and their lackeys. If I had to guess, I’d say every politician was present. Sheila was sitting by the president. She was wearing a rather short dress that showed a little bit of cleavage. I usually got a smile from her, but today, she was overly preoccupied with her laptop.
Judging from some of the looks I was getting, a few folks considered me trouble. That’s trouble with a capital T which rhymes with Z and that stands for Zach.
There was a singular chair placed in the middle, separate from everyone else. I took my cue and sat.
Seth walked over to me. “I’ll need to secure your weapon,” he whispered. “I promise I’ll get it back to you when this is over.”
I gave him a long look before handing over my rifle. Everybody watched as Seth took it out of my hands and then there seemed to be a collective sigh of relief. It was obvious none of these people ever thought about carrying a backup weapon. It was a trait my old buddy Rick instilled in me, and especially after the abduction incident, I always carried a hideout gun hidden in my crotch. It was a little uncomfortable at times, but so what.
After the tension subsided, a few people started having hushed side discussions while others seemed to be reviewing a report or something on their laptops. Hell, for all I knew, they could be playing solitaire.
“Can we get this meeting going?” I asked, although I wasn’t asking. “I’ve got things to do, like sleep.”
“Mister Gunderson,” President Richmond said. “We are on our timetable now.”
“I suggest you get your ass on my timetable, sir. My patience is somewhat limited at the moment.”
I saw a flash of anger cross his face, but being a true politician, it passed quickly and was replaced with a patient smile.
“Very well, why don’t you start by giving us a synopsis of this morning’s events?”
“Certainly. I was on guard duty. Three men approached our facility with nefarious intent. I killed them. End of synopsis.”
While the president stared in disbelief, Secretary Stark leaned forward in his chair.
“Son, we’re going to need far more detail. You know that.”
I took a deep breath. I was not sure of how much detail I wanted to go into. One thing was certain: there were certain facets of my life none of these limp-wristed people needed to know.
“A few minutes before the end of my guard shift was due to end, three men drove up in a Prius.”
“A Prius?” one of them asked.
“Yes. One of…”
“Why a Prius?” the same one asked.
“My guess is because a Prius gets excellent gas mileage and it runs quiet. It’s an excellent post-apocalyptic vehicle. May I continue now?”
POTUS gave me an impatient nod.
“Alright, so they drive up and stop. One of them, the driver, got out and approached the guard shack while the other two stayed back and took up cover by their car.”
“How do you know they were taking cover?” another one asked.
“For the reasons I just articulated,” I replied. “I attempted to engage the lead man in friendly conversation. He made a threatening gesture. I took action.”
“What type of threatening gesture?” General Fosswell asked.
I replied with an ambiguous shrug. “I’m so tired, I can’t recall specifically.”
Senator Polacek partially raised her hand. “One of the relief guards stated the man near the guard shack was unarmed.”
Her aide quickly whispered to her. She acknowledged her and amended her proclamation. “He was only armed with,” she looked at her aide again. “What did you call it?”
“A blackjack.”
“Yes, a blackjack,” she said. “He had a blackjack in his back pocket, which would indicate he was not holding it in a threatening manner.”
I shrugged again. She was undeterred and eyed me shrewdly.
“Would you care to explain why you shot a man who was not posing a threat, Mister Gunderson?”
“I disagree. He was a threat. His friends were a threat. I responded to the threat.”
She frowned. “Oh, yes, I’d almost forgotten. One of them ran away and you chased after him.”
“Correct,” I said.
“Did you find him?”
“Yes.”
“And?” she pressed.
“And now, he’s dead.” I leaned forward. “But, since you abhor firearms, you’ll be pleased to know, I didn’t shoot him.” In fact, I bashed his head in with his own blackjack.
Senator Polacek looked at me in befuddlement. I didn’t know if she was amused or appalled, but, truth be told, I didn’t care. Her expression then turned into an accusing stare.
“You chased him down and killed him,” she exclaimed.
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“Because he was a threat,” I said.
“I think I can fill in some of the blanks,” a voice said behind me. I turned. It was Melvin. He’d quietly slipped in while I was talking.
“By all means,” Secretary Stark said.
Melvin walked up and stood beside me.
“The three men in question are called Pig, Scooter, and Crash. They’re members of the Blackjacks.”
“Ah, the Blackjacks,” the president said. “I’ve read a report on them. If I remember correctly, you described them as a roving band of marauders.”
“That’d be correct, sir,” Melvin said. “They’re led by a big, mean brute by the name of Lonnie. They’re the ones who’ve been terrorizing the southern part of Virginia for the past year or so.”
“Could you be more specific?” Senator Polacek asked. “How have they been terrorizing?”
“You’ve seen the young lady with me, right?” he asked.
The senator nodded with a hint of distaste in her expression. Melvin acted as though he didn’t notice.
“That’s Savannah. The Blackjacks murdered her entire family. She’d previously told Zach how her family was brutally murdered and then recognized them as soon as Pig had walked up. Now, Zach is no naïve little schoolboy. When he was made aware of who, and what they were, he knew they were up to no good and he knew he had to protect Mount Weather.”
He looked at me. “Right?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting,” President Richmond said. There were a few nods of agreement.
“There’s more,” Melvin said. “I just spoke with Burt and he introduced me to Mister Fred McCoy. He’s a recent arrival. Mister McCoy said he caught a man scouting out Mount Weather. He told me about a tattoo on the man’s forearm, which I immediately recognized. That man went by the name of Snake. He was a psychopathic SOB, and also a member of the Blackjacks.”
“What do you mean, was?” Senator Polacek asked.
“Because he’s no longer an is. He’s a was.” Melvin saw the senator’s blank expression and explained. “That means he’s dead.”
Melvin knew he had their attention and wagged a finger.
“Snake always deferred to their leader, Lonnie. So, if Snake was here, Lonnie ordered it. The Blackjacks are close by and they’re up to something.”
“Interesting,” the president said again. “Where is Mister McCoy?” he asked.
“He’s right outside, sir,” Melvin answered.
“I understand he’s somewhat of a cowboy.”
“Yes, sir,” Melvin said.
The president nodded. “Why don’t we get him in here so we can hear it straight from the horse’s mouth?” He then gave a small smile as he glanced at me.
“That’s called a colloquialism, I believe.”
Sheila giggled before catching herself.
Melvin nodded and escorted Fred in the room and had him stand beside me. Nobody thought to offer him a chair and he didn’t ask for one. The room was silent with the exception of someone typing on a keyboard.
Fred was wearing a plain brown T-shirt, jeans that had a couple of old stains, and of course, boots. He must have left his gun in his room. He was a nondescript man to the untrained eye.
He stood there, staring at them stoically. The silence continued for a full minute. If they were waiting for Fred to introduce himself or something, they were going to be waiting a long time, and I was tired.
“Everyone, this is my friend, Mister Frederick McCoy. He’s also from Tennessee. For those of you who know me, you know my son is named Frederick. This is the man he was named after.” And most of you would have to sit on your mother’s shoulders to kiss his ass, I thought.
“Very nice,” the president said. “If you don’t mind, would you explain the circumstances which led to you killing a man, let’s see…” He looked at Sheila’s laptop. “A man identified as Snake. Would you tell us what happened?”
“I caught a man spying on your facilities. It looked like he was going to be a problem, so I took care of it.”
A full thirty seconds passed before one of them grasped Fred was a man of few words.
“Explain,” General Fosswell directed. “Start from the beginning.”
“Alright. Back when I was in Tennessee, we all ran into a spot of trouble. I thought Zach was dead and he thought I was dead. When I found out Zach and his family were still alive and had relocated up here, I hopped on my horse and came up,” Fred began.
“You rode a horse all the way from Tennessee?” one of Stark’s aides asked in surprise and looked at me to see if we were playing some kind of asinine joke.
“Yes,” Fred replied.
“Why?” the same man asked.
Fred stared at him. “It’s the way I do things.”
Nobody else could see it, but I could see he was getting irritated, so I spoke up.
“You people sure do like interrupting a man when he’s trying to tell a story.”
“And it’s taking up a considerable amount of time,” President Richmond admonished as he looked at everyone to make his point. “Please continue, Mister McCoy.”
“Like I said,
I rode up here to be with Zach and his family. When I got here, I decided to look things over before coming in. I spotted a man hidden in the woods, looking things over his own self. He was using a scoped rifle to do his looking. He was up to no good. So, I took care of it.”
Everyone waited for Fred to continue, but I guess it was General Fosswell who first realized Fred had finished his story.
“So, you killed him?” he asked.
Fred gave one of his micro nods.
“Alright, where is he?” the general asked.
“About two hundred yards in the woods from the fence on the southwest side. There’s a guard shack he was watching at that particular moment when I decided it was time to send him to Jesus.”
He glanced over at me momentarily. I understood better now what he said back in the woods. He was surveilling post three, and I had missed it.
“He was watching post three?” General Fosswell asked.
“He was watching everything,” Fred said. “On the first day, he watched the main entrance for about four hours. Then he started moving clockwise, ending up on the southwest side of the perimeter. At sunset, he went back to his car, which was parked on down the road and hidden. He woke up an hour before sunrise and went back to the same spot and watched the rest of the day. He sure did like post three. There was a girl on guard duty with Zach. I suspect that had something to do with it.”
Fred then fished into his breast pocket and took out the folded-up piece of paper he showed us earlier.
“He had this with him.”
He handed it to Seth who unfolded it and looked it over. I saw his brow crease as he realized what he was looking at. He then walked it over to General Fosswell.
“What is it?” one of the politicians asked.
Seth spoke up. “It’s a hand-drawn map of Mount Weather. He has detailing of the fence line, the location of the guard posts, and the building placements. He’s even identified dead spots along the perimeter.”
He looked at the audience. “It’s a fairly accurate drawing,” he remarked before handing the map over and it began being slowly passed around the room.
Somebody cursed under their breath. Fred walked over to an urn sitting on one of the tables and helped himself to a cup of coffee.