Savage Rising

by C. Hoyt Caldwell

  Randle was still at Otis’s side. He hadn’t so much as thought of having a drop to drink since he’d dragged the sheriff from the church parking lot. He felt strangely liberated by being bound to Otis.

  Dani watched her haggard and unshaven uncle sit at Laura’s bedside with his head hung low. She stuck her thumb under her gun belt and gripped the stiff leather. Finally, she spoke. “We got a situation.”

  Otis looked up, droopy-eyed. “No, we don’t. You do.”

  “It’s big.”

  “You can handle it.”

  “It ain’t exactly…It’s outside…A lot of people’s lives are at risk.”

  Randle glared at Otis’s disinterested face before clearing his throat and saying, “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve been tracking this…group, and we think they’re about to hit a college…with guns…a lot of guns.”

  Otis shook his head and frowned. “Deputy Randle, would you care to tell me how many colleges we have in Baptist Flats?”

  Randle, confused by the question, said, “There ain’t no colleges in Baptist Flats.”

  “Correct. As such, Deputy Savage, I don’t see how you could have a situation involving a group hitting a college since we ain’t got…Remind me again, Deputy Randle, how many colleges are in our jurisdiction?”

  Randle hesitated because he didn’t want to humiliate Dani. “Zero.”

  “Right.”

  “People are gonna die…”

  “Does this have anything to with that goddamn ATF ID?”

  Dani looked away.

  Nola tried to interject. “This all just kind of fell into our laps…”

  “Bullshit,” Otis said. “I forget your name, darling.”

  Nola raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not darling. I can tell you that…”

  “Save it,” Otis barked. “Call the feds. Call the state police. Call anyone who can claim jurisdiction. We are the Baptist Flats Sheriff’s Department. The borders in which we keep the law are well defined. I suggest you familiarize yourself with where they are, and commit them to memory. Write them down. Do whatever you have to so you won’t cross them ever a-fucking-gain!”

  Dani grimaced and thought about shouting back, but decided it was useless. She spun around and stomped out of the room with Nola close behind. Before they could round the corner, Randle darted out after them.

  “Wait up.”

  Dani and Nola turned to him.

  “I’ll work on Otis.”

  “He’s a stubborn old fool,” Dani said. “There’s no point.”

  “Bullshit. He’ll come around. What about Friar?”

  “He’s watching Luna. We’re spread thin.”

  “The shithead? The fucker that’s always butting his nose in, where’s he?”

  Dani shrugged. “Who knows?”

  “Well, you two can’t go off chasing this thing down alone.” He turned to Laura’s hospital room, gave the situation some thought and turned back to Nola and Dani. “I’m coming with you…”

  Dani shook her head. “Can’t leave Otis alone. You’re needed here. Me and Nola will run this thing as far as we can.”

  He hesitated. “Just don’t get yourself too deep in it. You pull back if things get prickly.”

  It was Dani’s turn to hesitate. She didn’t want to lie to Randle by promising they’d keep out of trouble, but she didn’t want to worry him, either. She gave what she perceived to be an adequate nod and walked away.

  Nola eyed Randle and said, “I’ll watch her back.”

  Chapter 82

  Spivey sat in the conference room, growing hoarse from talking. The air conditioner was on full blast, but his agitated state kept him toasty. The FBI agent across from him kept his suit jacket on while he jotted down notes. He’d filled a couple of pages before he eventually stopped writing. The man who had stormed into their Knoxville field office had sounded convincing at first, but now he was starting to sound more than a little crazy.

  “So, this ORO group, you all are part of Homeland Security…”

  “No, I told you. We’re private contractors, hired by the DHS. We operate independent of the agency.”

  “But if I call the DHS they’re gonna know about you, the ORO?”

  “No! Look, the ORO is an internal designation. Only we call ourselves that. The official designation is private security contractors. That’s it…”

  “All right then, if I call them up, and tell them I have Jack Spivey, a private security…”

  “Goddamn it! We are a clandestine organization with undocumented authorization to conduct operations on American soil. We’ve been hired to spy on U.S. citizens, including elected officials. Nobody at the HSA is going to confirm that we exist.”

  “There’s no reason to raise your voice, Mr. Spivey. Just calm down…”

  “There’s no time for calm. God knows how many fuck-heads with military-style weapons are on their way to shoot up the campus of the biggest college in your goddamn state…”

  “And as I’ve explained to you, we’ve been meeting with state and local authorities for weeks, going over security measures for the Million Moms demonstration. We’ve planned for every possible scenario…”

  “I’m telling you, you’re not prepared for this. I’ve sat in on the meetings you’re talking about. You’re focused on lone gunmen and crazed suicide bomber scenarios. This is different. This is a military attack. Trained, radicalized special-ops soldiers, well-armed and gung-fucking-ho!”

  “Americans?”

  “Yes. Americans. The best soldiers in the world.”

  “Like those bird sanctuary dumbasses?”

  “Same motivation. Much fucking scarier. They killed my partner…”

  The agent sat back and tapped his pen on the notepad as he absorbed this last bit of information. “Your partner was in the ORO, too?”

  “Yes, that’s usually how partnerships work, they pair you up with a coworker…”

  “And he’s dead?”

  “Is English your second language?”

  “Is there any way you can confirm he’s dead?”

  “She. Her name is Patricia McElhenney, and you can call the Baptist Flats Sheriff’s Department. I’ve been working with them. They can confirm almost everything I’ve told you. Dani Savage. Deputy. Call her. She’s the only one with her shit together.”

  The agent leaned forward and furrowed his brow. “Where the fuck is Baptist Flats?”

  Chapter 83

  Dani pumped gas into the cruiser, processing the shit show that had become her life. They were still no closer to figuring out which college was going to be hit, and she was all out of ideas. Spivey wasn’t answering his phone, and Step and Kenny were AWOL. If it were anyone else, she’d be worried about them. As it was, she was just pissed.

  She pulled out her phone to try and reach them again, but grunted when she discovered there were no bars. She held the phone above her head and moved it around, eyeing the display to see if she could find the magic spot that would give her cellphone reception. Nothing.

  A silver-and-blue bus parked at the back of the truck stop, and she took only casual notice. Her focus was on the phone display. A number of Wayne Drake Community College students disembarked from the bus and chattered away as they passed the Baptist Flats Sheriff’s Department cruiser. She paid a little more attention than before, noted how thick they were and concluded they must be football players. Back to the phone for one last try at finding the sweet spot. When it wasn’t to be found, she sighed and returned the phone to her pocket just as Nola exited the truck stop and had to sidestep two of the college students. That’s when Dani saw the back of their shirts. GO TERRIERS! The big white lettering hit like a bolt of lightning. “Terriers,” she whispered.

  Nola reached her and nearly laughed at the look of awe on Dani’s face. “What is with you?”

  Dani snapped back to reality. “Do you have your phone?”

  “Yeah,” Nola said, pulling it out of her back
pocket.

  “Do you have bars?”

  Nola looked at the screen. “One…No…It’s gone…” She held it up and took a step back. “Yep, one bar…Maybe two.”

  Dani grabbed the phone from her and looked for the spot that gave her the two bars. She quickly dialed the sheriff’s office.

  “Baptist Flats…” Friar started before Dani cut him off.

  “Put Luna on the phone.”

  “Dani?”

  “Friar, put Luna on the phone.”

  “You’re cutting in and out. What’s a pluma?”

  She spoke slowly and deliberately. “Put. Luna. On. The. Phone.”

  “Roger that. Hold on.”

  A full minute passed before Luna grumbled, “This fat fool won’t get me or my dog nothing to eat…”

  “Luna, listen to me…”

  “We’re starving and he won’t…”

  “Luna…Stop…Listen…”

  “I’m just saying we’re hungry….”

  “Tell me about the dog.”

  “The what?”

  “Tell me about the dog. Jack Spivey.”

  “What about him?”

  “You said Mac bought it for you, right?”

  “Yeah. Called me from Nashville. Said she got it at the pound. Last time I talked to her as a matter of fact.”

  “The last time?”

  “Never heard or seen her again. She went off with Harley that morning. Called me from the pound and said she was getting me a dog. Named it Jack Spivey. Said that had to be the name. Give me the number of the kennel and said to keep it handy.”

  “You never saw the dog?”

  “Nope. She went straight from the pound to the kennel. I think…” There was a pause before she added, “I think she knew something bad was gonna happen to her. Probably talked Harley into doing one last sweet thing for me. She was always doing sweet things. Give that Carson boy her wallet the week before that. Don’t know how much cash…”

  “She gave Parnell Carson her wallet? Her ID?”

  “I guess it had her ID in it. I didn’t ask…”

  “Shit,” Dani said just before hanging up the phone. She stared off into space for a few seconds before Nola chimed in.

  “You gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “Jack Spivey,” Dani said. “The dog. He’s a terrier mix.”

  “So?”

  “So, hear me out. Mac embeds herself with the Gray Rise through her connection with Luna. She starts noticing that they’re collecting college catalogs. It doesn’t fit.”

  “Exactly. Nothing about that is right.”

  “So she figures out that they are going to hit a college campus. She doesn’t know where. She doesn’t know when. She goes in deep. Cuts herself off from Spivey. She immerses herself in the militia’s cause. All the time, she uses the catalogs to record what she’s seeing. Finds out all the details we’ve uncovered. The only thing she never finds out is what college they’re going to hit…until the day she disappears. Fuck…”

  “What?”

  “If I’m right, Mac is even smarter than we thought.”

  “I’m still not getting it.”

  “Look, she knows she’s done. She can see the writing on the wall. She puts the bundle together and has it delivered to a safe house just before Harley takes her to Nashville. If he’s as sadistic a sumbitch as Luna says, he pretty much lets her know this is her last hurrah. He gets a kick out of watching people suffer. She asks him for one last favor. She wants to leave a present for Luna. He indulges her because he’s an arrogant bastard. What the fuck does it matter?”

  “What present?”

  Dani points to a Wayne Drake Community College student coming out of the truck stop.

  Nola doesn’t get it. “A college kid?”

  “No, Wayne Drake’s mascot, it’s a terrier. Just like Jack Spivey the dog.”

  Nola stood in silence for a moment. She finally said, “But how would she know we’d find the dog?”

  “She didn’t. It was a stab in the dark, but she had no other recourse. It was a desperate move because she was about to die. She just had to hope someone would find the dog before it was too late…” Dani held up a finger as she searched her memory banks. “Was there a catalog for Wayne Drake in Mac’s bundle?”

  Nola considered Dani’s question before giving a hesitant, “No.”

  “I know most of the schools in this area, and I’m guessing we’ve got all of them within about a 250-mile radius of Baptist Flats, except one.”

  “Wayne Drake.”

  One of the college kids overheard Nola and yelled, “Go Terriers!”

  Nola watched the kid walk by. “So, what now? Call the feds?”

  “Nope. We go check out the campus.”

  Chapter 84

  The competing demonstrations were underway. The Million Moms looked to be a sea of people. They carried signs and a small stage was set up across from the main Volunteer Boulevard entrance. On the stage was a series of TV monitors cycling through demonstrations at other college campuses across the country.

  The gun-rights advocates were also on the scene. They weren’t as well-organized, and they were less vocal than the Moms crowd. They strapped long guns over their shoulders, and they made it a point to eyeball every anti-gun demonstrator who crossed their paths. Clearly, intimidation was their primary mode of dissention. They wanted to scare the shit out of the Moms and their allies, chase them off with nothing but a gun on their backs and hate in their eyes.

  The problem was they were mostly goofy rednecks with more swagger than sack. Most of them were doughy as a loaf of Wonder Bread. A brisk walk would probably have made most of them keel over from exhaustion.

  Spivey knew pretty quickly that the pro-open-carry shitheads at the main site of the demonstration weren’t members of the Gray Rise. The police presence was heavy around the demonstrators. Spivey doubted the militia would hit from this vantage point. They’d probably come up through the campus and fire at the demonstration, ideally getting return fire from the open-carry crowd, increasing the chances of taking out innocent bystanders.

  He moved his way through a mass of people and did a half turn to his right. He’d seen somebody moving parallel with him using his peripheral vision. It was a uniformed police officer, and he was definitely shadowing Spivey, even as he purposely made his route more circuitous.

  Spivey spotted a sheltered bus stop and quickly moved toward it an effort to mix in with the small group waiting for the next shuttle to town.

  The police officer continued past the bus stop and headed for campus. Spivey observed the officer as surreptitiously as he could until he rounded a row of hedges at the entrance of a parking lot. Spivey smiled and broke away from the group and was about to cross the street to continue his search for the Gray Rise on campus when he ran into two more police officers.

  “Sir,” one officer said, “can we assist you?”

  “Been walking a long time, Officer. I can handle this on my own.”

  “Is your name Jack Spivey?”

  Spivey looked at him, surprised to hear his name come out of the officer’s mouth. “It is.”

  “Follow me, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “From behind, sir. That’s usually the best place to follow from.” The officer chuckled at his own joke and headed to the line of hedges.

  “I mean where are we going?”

  “You’ll see, sir.”

  “Am I being detained for some reason?”

  They rounded the hedges where Spivey saw a nondescript black sedan parked.

  “You are, sir.”

  “And that reason would be?”

  The FBI agent Spivey had spoken to earlier stepped out of the sedan.

  “This gentleman will be happy to explain that, sir.” The officer gave Spivey a friendly smile and headed back to the protesters.

  “So, you got through to Deputy Savage, is that it? My story checks out?”


  “I did not get through to your deputy, Mr. Spivey. She is not picking up her cell, and a Deputy Friar that answered the phone at the sheriff’s office couldn’t confirm much beyond the fact that he thought there was a guy named Jack Spivey doing something with Deputy Savage about an ATF ID they found on a dead guy who fucked a horse.”

  Spivey raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the right. “He left a lot of holes in the story, but that’s basically how everything got started. So why are you here?”

  “Because a man came into my field office, claimed to be involved in a super secret government spying operation, warned us there was going to be a shoot-out on campus today, and then abruptly left.”

  “You were dragging your feet. Time is something we’ve run out of.”

  “Okay,” the agent said. “I’m here. Where’s this militia?”

  “Well,” Spivey said as he turned to scan the crowd walking up and down Volunteer Boulevard. There were thousands of people milling about. Students, faculty, staff, demonstrators, police, it seemed too perfect. “I’m starting think I was wrong.”

  “So there is no militia?”

  “No, there is. They just aren’t going to strike this campus. It’s too obvious.”

  The agent smirked. “I think we’re done here, Mr. Spivey. Wherever home is, you should go there.”

  Spivey chuckled without explanation.

  “Something funny, Mr. Spivey?”

  “No. It just never ceases to amaze me.”

  “What would that be?”

  “How incompetent the fucking FBI is.”

  The agent was not amused. “You should go, Mr. Spivey.”

  “And you should go fuck yourself, Mr. FBI.”

  The agent smirked and called over to one of his colleagues. “Kindly handcuff this gentleman and allow him to get comfortable in the back of my car, Agent.”

  Spivey weighed his options. He could take the agent who was about to handcuff him. He might even be able to take out the next two that would try to restrain him, but given the number of cops and guns around him, there was a better-than-good chance it wouldn’t end well for him, so he put his hands on his head and laced his fingers together.