“Our security guard wasn’t at fault. He was only following his orders.
“It was the orders that were flawed, and our mindset when we issued them.
“We’ve rescinded the standing order and replaced it with one that is more humane.
“But it’s too late to save Charlotte’s friends.”
His voice started to crack and Hannah took the opportunity to jump in.
“Oh, Marty, not a single one of you foresaw what was going to happen. You had an obligation to protect the people of Eden and that’s what you did.
“What happened was an unforeseen and unfortunate event, yes. But you didn’t kill those women. They were killed because their vehicle slid into a snow bank and the snow covered up their exhaust pipe.
“It was an accident. In a thousand other incidents of a similar nature, in nine-hundred-ninety-nine of them they’d have made it safely to San Angelo.
“It was unfortunate, Marty. But it was nobody’s fault.”
Marty furiously shook his head as though trying to block out her words.
Mark put his hand on Hannah’s arm. She looked at her husband and he shook his head at her.
It was obvious to Mark that Marty wasn’t interested in her opinion. His mind was made up.
In Marty’s mind he and his friends had committed an unspeakable sin.
He said, “Marty, what can we do to help you?”
“We want to meet with Charlotte. We want to explain things to her, and to apologize to her.
“We want to tell her we meant no harm. We really didn’t. We want to beg her to forgive us.
“And we want you to agree to bury her friends here. In the mine, until the earth warms again and we can offer them a more permanent place to rest.”
-15-
Frank Woodard had always been a rather affable guy.
He had a reputation as someone who could get along with anyone, friend or foe.
When he was a homicide detective he was able to solve even the toughest of cases because suspects and witnesses opened up to him. They saw him not as the big burly cop he was, but as a confidant. A big brother, if you will.
He’d also used his personality as a tool to talk his way out of sticky situations on occasion.
In the Super Foods Distribution Center he’d been trying to do the same thing.
As he saw it, it was his best option for escape.
He’d been at the center for several days now and was putting two completely different plans into effect simultaneously.
One was simply to be the wonderful guy everyone back home knew him to be. He’d be respectful to his captors. He’d kid around with them. Crack jokes. Help them with their problems. He’d try to amplify his relative worth in their minds by offering advice. Sharing all his talents with them.
He’d tell them all he’d learned about being a prepper. He’d do more than his assigned chores.
He’d make it very hard for them to find a reason to kill him.
The other plan he was working on was his escape plan.
His dynamic personality and jovial nature wouldn’t help him with that.
But his excellent memory and keen analytical mind certainly would.
Frank had a habit of taking tiny bits of information and filing them away in the recesses of his memory; information which he might be able to use to his advantage at a later date.
He’d always done that, since he was a boy. It had helped him in his high school years because he was able to file away obscure bits of knowledge that sometimes made their way onto exams later.
As a cop he remembered tiny details of cases that everyone else either didn’t notice or forgot. Sometimes he’d remember those bits of information and see their significance when others couldn’t. He cracked many cases by putting together obscure pieces of the puzzle that others didn’t even know existed.
For example, when they arrived at the distribution center he was hustled out of the Humvee so quickly no one ever asked him what he did with the keys. No one saw him toss them beneath the driver’s seat.
They were in such a hurry to get inside they simply forgot all about them.
They took Frank out at gunpoint and shoved him toward the personnel door between loading docks 44 and 45; something else Frank committed to his memory.
Frank knew several things. He knew that if he could somehow get loose for any length of time, all he had to do was to make his way back to that doorway between docks 44 and 45.
And that right outside his Hummer would be waiting, its keys still under the driver’s seat.
He also knew that he’d have to make his move relatively quickly.
The Hummer had been in the back of the mine for a long time. It had routine maintenance done on it over the years, but Frank had no idea how old the battery was.
If it was a fairly fresh battery it should be fine.
But if it was an old battery it could be problematic.
For older batteries were notorious for refusing to start under extremely cold conditions.
And it was extremely cold outside.
As Frank saw it, he needed to make his escape sooner than later. Within the next couple or three days.
After that there was a good chance his Hummer wouldn’t start. Then he’d be afoot in a white winter nightmare that could kill him within hours unless he found shelter.
And he had absolutely no idea where that shelter might be, if it was available at all.
He learned just after his arrival that Justin and John never really had any plans to kill him during their journey. They’d planned to use him to drive them to the distribution center and then to do it.
But as they drove along John had another idea.
Everyone at the center had chores to do. And some were more disgusting than others.
The pans beneath the two port-a-potties had to be removed and dumped outside every day to keep the potties from stinking up the place.
Somebody had to go around with a mop and bucket and clean up after the two poodles Stacy had insisted on bringing in with her. Poodles she loved as much as her children but which everyone else thought were pains in the butt.
And there were other chores which weren’t really disgusting but which everyone had tired of doing.
Like boiling drinking water every day or two.
And walking to the far reaches of the huge center to fetch things for meals.
It occurred to John on their long journey to Plainview that if they kept Frank alive they would have a slave to do all the things they didn’t want to do themselves.
Of course, they’d have to take certain precautions to prevent his escape. But that wouldn’t be too difficult. All they’d have to do was shackle him.
And that they did, with three feet of heavy chain wrapped tightly around both ankles. Each end was held in place with a high-security padlock. One which Frank had no chance of picking open or breaking.
The shackles didn’t restrict his movements. He could still gather dog poop and lug cans of food from the back of the warehouse.
They did, however, slow him down tremendously.
And the chain dragging on the floor made an awful lot of noise.
The chain was not unlike a cowbell.
A cowbell tells a farmer where old Daisy is in the pasture, even in the dead of night or in the heaviest fog.
The chain, dragging constantly against the concrete floor of the distribution center, told John and Justin and the others exactly where Frank was at all times.
One other thing the shackles did: they made Frank’s plans for escaping within two or three days darned near impossible.
But he’d find a way.
-16-
Frank put on a very good show.
He was working hard to win over hearts. To show everybody he was a good guy who didn’t mind doing their grunt work.
Who was working hard to show his worth to their group.
His efforts had mixed success.
John and Justin’s Aunt Stacy
, a widow, seemed to have taken a liking to Frank.
Most of the others seemed to accept him, or perhaps were just glad they no longer had to take their turn at servicing the port-a-potties.
The only one who was giving him fits was Crazy Eddie, who was known for not liking anyone outside the family. He tried his best to win the man over, but with very little success.
It was Crazy Eddie who showed Frank where to empty the pans from the port-a-potties. He took him to a corner of the massive building and removed a piece of plywood wedged against the exterior wall.
Once the plywood cover was removed, Frank could see what it was hiding: a hole cut into the metal siding with a blow torch, a few inches high and about eighteen inches wide.
“Just slide the trays through the hole,” Eddie instructed. “Once they’re outside, spin the handles to dump them. Everything will fall on a big pile below the elevated dock.”
Frank followed instructions to the letter though he had other things on his mind.
“This is genius,” he said, trying to stroke Eddie’s ego. “But where in the world did you get a blow torch?”
“Oh, there’s two or three of ‘em, over there in the maintenance office.”
As he spoke he waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the north side of the building.
Frank filed that piece of information, as he had so many others, in the back of his mind for use later.
His third day in Frank discretely picked up a partially used roll of duct tape. Since there wasn’t much left on the roll he was able to crush it and stuff it into the front of his pants.
He carried it there for several hours while trying to think of a better place to stash it.
He thought his goose was cooked at one point when he encountered Stacy and noticed she was staring at the front of his pants.
But she just smiled and winked at him before going on her way.
“I gotta get out of here,” Frank thought to himself.
And indeed he had an escape plan.
One of his jobs was to wander around the building to pick up the droppings of Stacy’s poodles. The group, while still suspicious of Frank, allowed him to wander freely now because they could hear the heavy chain and knew roughly where to find him.
Frank’s plan was to wait until most of them were sleeping, then to tell someone he was going on a mission to pick up dog poop.
He’d make his way toward the maintenance office and use one of the cutting torches to cut through the heavy chain which bound his ankles together.
Then, to keep the chains from rattling further, he’d tape them to the inside of each thigh using the duct tape.
At that point he’d be able to move fairly quietly.
It would be relatively easy to make his way to the personnel door between docks 44 and 45.
The door was locked from the outside but had a panic bar on the inside to allow it to be opened in case of a fire.
As quietly as possible, he’d go through the door and into the parked Humvee, where he’d remove the keys from beneath the seat and start up the vehicle.
Then, as they say in the movies, he’d get the hell out of Dodge.
He thought the only thing that could possibly go wrong was if the battery on the Hummer was too weak to start it. If that happened he’d have no choice but to steal away into the frozen landscape and hope for the best.
That was the one fatal flaw in Frank’s plan… thinking the only thing that could possibly go wrong would be a dead battery.
Actually something else could go terribly wrong.
And it involved Crazy Eddie.
Early the following evening, one by one, the Dwyer family began to retire to the tents they’d set up in the common area of the building.
The tents served to provide each of them a limited amount of privacy, and were fairly well furnished with easy chairs and single beds.
About eight p.m. there were only a few people moving about, and Frank was starting to think this would be the night he’d make good his escape.
Then Crazy Eddie came running into the common area, covered from head to foot with… aluminum foil.
In his right hand was what appeared to Frank to be a Samurai sword.
In his left hand was a liter bottle of tequila that was half empty.
Frank was quite taken aback at the spectacle. He didn’t know whether to laugh outright or shy away and go find something to do.
As for the others, it seemed business as usual. They pretty much didn’t bat an eye.
Stacy was more interested in his hardware than in his behavior.
“Nice sword, Eddie. Where’d you find it?”
“It was in the manager’s office, hanging on the wall. And my name isn’t Eddie. It is Sir Knight Eddie of the shining order of Knightdom.”
Frank had to choke on his laughter.
Crazy Eddie looked around the area, then took a huge swig of tequila.
-17-
Frank, trying to diffuse the situation, said, “I didn’t know Super Foods carried liquor. Is there more where that came from?”
Stacy, trying to be helpful, said, “Oh, yeah. There’s a whole bunch of it in a locked cage, but we busted the lock a long time ago. If you want I can go get a bottle of wine and we can share it.”
But Eddie was having none of that.
“Back away from the maiden, you cur. You are not worthy of being in her presence.”
Frank doubted Eddie even knew what a cur was. He’d likely heard the term in a movie somewhere.
He was pondering whether to move away from Stacy when Eddie lunged forward and swung his sword at Frank’s head.
He missed by several feet, but the sudden move was enough to make Frank back up a bit.
Stacy said, “Cut it out, Eddie, before you hurt somebody with that thing.”
“Shut up, maiden! You are addressing a knight from the round table!”
He swung the sword again, this time in Stacy’s general direction. Although he missed her as well by several feet, she was none too pleased.
“Damn it, Eddie! If you swing that thing again, I’ll kick your stupid ass!”
“Fine! I shall slay your suitor then!”
He went at Frank again and caught him off guard.
Instead of merely lunging forward as he’d done before, he ran at Frank and quickly closed the gap between them before swinging his sword again.
Frank, moving backward as Eddie ran toward him, couldn’t get away fast enough.
The sword caught Frank across his midsection.
Crazy Eddie, seeing what he’d done, froze in place.
Frank fell backwards onto the concrete floor.
He looked down at the tear in his shirt, then lifted it up to inspect the wound.
It was bad.
Real bad.
He had a gash all the way across his belly, right above his navel.
It was at least fifteen inches long and at least an inch deep.
It gaped open at least two inches at its center.
And it bled like a fountain.
Frank had never seen so much blood coming out of a human being.
He didn’t like that it was coming out of him.
Luckily he didn’t have to watch it for long.
His gaze never left the blood flow. He wondered how much blood was in his body, and how much he could lose and still survive.
It didn’t look good.
The room started spinning as it got darker and darker.
Frank thought of Eva. He didn’t verbalize his words, but in his mind he spoke to her.
“I think this is it, Eva darling. I think I’m finally coming to see you again.”
With that his eyes closed and his head landed hard against the concrete floor.
Crazy Eddie stood still, mesmerized by the scene.
Stacy, suddenly full of rage, grabbed the bottle of tequila from his hand and slapped him, hard, across the side of his face.
“You idiot!” she yelled. “Why
’d you have to kill him? I was trying to make him my man!”
Eddie started blubbering like a two-year-old and ran away.
Stacy picked up the sword he dropped and left “her man” to die as she took off in hot pursuit after Crazy Eddie.
From out of nowhere came Josie, the youngest of the Dwyer family.
She was also, in Frank’s humble opinion, the only good one of the bunch.
Frank had a chance to talk to Josie the evening before. It was her turn to cook supper for the lot and the pair walked through the warehouse together “shopping” for the ingredients she needed.
Frank was so mesmerized by her he’d hung around and helped her do the cooking.
Josie was the only one of the Dwyer siblings who left Plainview, other than to go to prison.
She admitted to Frank she did it for her own selfish reasons.
“When you live in Plainview and your last name is Dwyer you’re considered lower than dirt.
“Most of the town won’t even deal with us, and those who do shaft us in every way imaginable. Our tires are slashed and our windshields get shot out on a regular basis. Our homes have been vandalized so many times we pay twice the going rate on insurance. Our only choice is to buy trailers, even at outrageous loan rates, because nobody in town will rent their houses to us.
“Or their trailers either.
“I went to college in Lubbock to get out of Plainview. I wanted to be judged on my own actions. Not on my last name because of things my family did.
“And yes, truth be known, I wanted to get away from my brothers at the same time. They’re bad news.”
“What was your discipline?”
“I got my bachelor’s in business, but never used it. Instead, on a whim, I took a nursing class and liked it. I liked it so much I went back to school to become a paramedic.
“I figured maybe if I was able to save some lives I could square our family name with God for the lives my family has taken over the years.”
“Your family has taken lives?”
She smiled, and Frank couldn’t help but notice she was a beautiful woman when the scowl left her face.
“Oops,” she said. “That’s something we typically don’t talk about.”
Final Dawn: Book 12: Where Could He Be? Page 6