Fire From The Sky | Book 11 | Ashes

by Reed, N. C.

  Clay fought to control his breathing after his almost tirade. Those accusations had come from left field and caught him completely by surprise, provoking a stronger response than they normally would have. On the other hand, Lainie had no right whatever to assume that he or any of the others would be so crass.

  For her part, Lainie recognized that she had gone too far with that last statement. She had all but accused Clay and the others of being exactly the kind of men who would treat women so badly.

  “I have done all that I could to make things easier on you, and by extension every other woman on this place,” Clay broke the silence between them first. “To make a safe home for all of you, a safe place to call home, to allow you all to live as freely as possible and without fear. Carried crews to gather private belongings and to strip abandoned homes of goods and killed I don’t know how many men in order to keep this place and the people on it, including the women, safe.”

  “We’ve been together over a year now. You’ve known the others, the initial guys anyway, almost as long, and the women with them, assuming they have one. Name one time that you’ve seen or heard a single one of us do something so disrespectful to any woman living on this farm. Just one. And if you can’t do it, then I suggest you think long and hard about what you say next.”

  The harsh words caught Lainie by surprise this time and she realized that she had struck a nerve with her tirade. One that she maybe shouldn’t have, in this case. Had she been speaking in general terms it would likely have been fine, but she had specifically accused Clay and his men.

  Atop that, Clay was correct in saying that she had not heard, or heard of, a single instance of any of them, from the youngest to the oldest, acting with anything other than respect to any woman on the farm. Her face burned as she realized what she had implied, having given her exact words no thought.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, at long last. “You’re right. There isn’t a single time any of them have behaved in such a manner and I had no right at all to even insinuate it. I was trying to defend her decision, her actions, and let my emotions get the better of me. For that, I apologize.”

  Clay said nothing for the moment, still working on regaining his calm, which had been severely damaged by a careless accusation.

  “If it’s such a problem,” he said finally, moving toward the door, “then I would suggest that you and the others responsible for making clothing or alterations start spending more time to remedy it. Amanda could have died today. We were extraordinarily fortunate that she didn’t. If Jaylyn Thatcher wasn’t here, Amanda might have died anyway. As it is, she should be nursing a bad bruise and nothing more. Instead, she’s out of action for no telling how long, in pain, and likely reconsidering her decision to help out. No one can blame her for that. Being shot takes the glory out of anything like this.”

  “We also used valuable medical resources to treat her that we can’t replace,” he finished. “Resources that we would not have had to use had she been wearing her plates in the carrier we gave her for that specific purpose. She knew that her safety depended on it and knew that she was always supposed to be wearing it if she was working. And for your general information, it’s not very comfortable for men, either. It may not be as bad as it is for a woman, but it’s still bulky, heavy, and gets in the way of everything. We wear it anyway because we want to go home at the end of the day.”

  “I’m going back to work,” he opened the door. “You know, I was talking to you about this because I didn’t understand. I needed to understand how I almost lost a trooper today when I shouldn’t have. But you’ve cleared that right up for me. It’s my fault, or else the fault of the men I work with, because of something we might have said if we’d known. Somehow, we’re to blame, and not the woman who disobeyed orders by not wearing her safety equipment, or the guy who actually shot her. Got it.”

  He was out the door and gone before Lainie could frame a reply, leaving her red-faced in the middle of the living room.

  Outside, Clay stalked down the driveway, heading back to his office. He had meant to be home for the evening, but now he had to get out. Clay knew that his temper was a weakness and did all he could to avoid situations where it might get the better of him, even if that meant having to walk away from something or someone. The very last person in the entire world he wanted to be guilty of lashing out at was Lainie Harper. It didn’t matter that she had provoked him, even unknowingly. That meant he had to go for a while and let that anger burn out of him. Walking would help, and he might even run for a while. It was something he did when he was worked up.

  Anything would be better than staying there with her and possibly saying something that he could never take back. She was far too important to him for that. He was not the bad guy here and was not going to turn into the bad guy because he threw a temper tantrum over her own baseless allegations and accusations.

  He started mentally reviewing the specs of the rifle he was carrying as he picked up the pace. It would keep him occupied, which would keep him from making an ass of himself.

  -

  “You know we’re going to get into forty-seven kinds of trouble for this, right?”

  Zach was pushing a ragged but working pickup truck away from the farm, leaning against the tailgate. Xavier was pushing from the open driver’s door, steering them down the road.

  “That is an oddly specific number, Zachary,” Xavier replied. “Any particular reason for choosing it?”

  “My jersey number,” Zach chuckled. “Coach always said it was the perfect number for me, since I was forty-seven kinds of trouble.”

  “A bit late to tell me that at this point, wouldn’t you say?” Xavier laughed.

  “Figured you had worked it out by now,” Zach chuckled. They had pushed the truck since just before dark, and were now, finally, to the interstate.

  “I believe we are far enough away at this point that we can start the engine,” Xavier said, sliding behind the wheel.

  “Cool,” Zach ran to the passenger door and jumped in. Xavier adjusted his night vision gear before turning toward Zach, who was doing the same.

  “Which way?”

  -

  “Penny for your thoughts, Sheriff.”

  Greg looked up from his ruminations to find Talia Gray looking down at him. He was sitting at the table before Building Two, alone for the moment.

  “Long day,” he shrugged. “Just reviewing.”

  “It’s not your fault, you know,” she sat down across from him.

  “Yeah, it is,” Greg replied, his tone conversational. “I was in charge; therefore, I am responsible. I ran a gear check, but I did it visual and didn’t ask for verbal acknowledgement. If I had, then she would have had to admit she wasn’t wearing the plates.”

  “Or had to lie about it to stay out of trouble,” Gray suggested, but Greg shook his head.

  “No. I’ve worked with Amanda long enough to know she wouldn’t lie in reply to a question. She might not tell me something, but that’s not the same thing.”

  “A lie by omission-,” Gray started.

  “A failure to plan,” Greg riposted. “I should have checked. I didn’t. Is she responsible for doing something she shouldn’t have? Yes. Am I responsible for not catching her at it? Yes. Enough blame to go around.” His eye caught movement and he looked to see Clay coming toward them. Stalking toward them might have been a better statement.

  “What’s up?” Greg asked, surprised to see him. “Thought you were headed home.”

  “Forgot something I needed to do,” Clay replied evenly, and Greg almost frowned at his friend’s tone. He was clearly angry.

  “Well, I have to go inside,” Talia got to her feet. “It’s my turn with Amanda. We’re taking it in two-hour shifts.” She entered the building, leaving Greg and Clay in private, at least for the time being.

  “Problem?” Greg asked carefully.

  “Just the usual,” Clay shook his head. “Everything okay with you? I figu
red you’d be racked out by now.”

  “Could say the same for you,” Greg countered. “But yeah, I should be. Just can’t sleep. I’ve been sitting here, alternating between thinking about what went wrong today and what to do about the Bones. What really bothers me is how they set up that ambush. No one knew where we were going or when. I just chose it at random. And that means they had to be set and just waiting, knowing we’d be that way sooner or later.”

  “Probably,” Clay agreed, finally taking a seat and laying his rifle on the table. “They have the advantage because they know you have to patrol to do your job. They can pick a good spot and then lie in wait because they know that sooner or later, you’ll be by. And you can’t not go, because it’s part of your job and has to be done. I think that’s an advantage that you won’t be able to overcome with tactics, man. Everything is on their side. Kinda like Afghanistan, really,” he murmured.

  “I thought about that earlier,” Greg nodded absently, clearly thinking of his own experiences. “Today was exactly like that. Man down, trying to get help for them, trying to suppress enemy fire and find cover, then finally moving to take down the ambush. It was all exactly the same.”

  “Never imagined it here, though,” Clay smiled wanly. He levered himself out of the chair and stretched, then picked up his rifle.

  “I need to get to my cubbyhole and get some work done,” he said tiredly. “You look like a man who needs a stiff drink and a good night of sleep.”

  “Yeah,” Greg took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “Yeah, I think that might help. I would appreciate it if you’d have someone holler at me if Amanda wakes up and I’m not here.”

  “I’ll leave instructions in the clinic and Operations to call you,” Clay promised. “It wasn’t your fault, man. You gave her the gear and told her how important it was. She’s already been in one firefight. She knew she was supposed to be wearing them.”

  “Yeah,” Greg didn’t sound convinced. “Thanks, man. Night.”

  “Night.”

  -

  “Well, it’s a nice night for a walk, anyway,” Zach sighed as he pulled his gear on.

  “Indeed,” Xavier smiled, though no one could have seen it. “I think we have hidden our ride well enough, don’t you?” The truck was now sitting behind the remains of a tractor trailer that had been abandoned on the highway. It looked as if it had been wrecked and left where it was.

  “Probably,” Zach agreed. “Unless someone saw us bring it in here, no one will know it’s there anyway.”

  “Where to from here?” Xavier asked, walking out onto the black top.

  “This way,” Zach pointed and started walking west on the side road. “We’re about five miles or so from their little village. You’ll need to watch for trip wires and tangle foot as we get closer. They cook meth and make moonshine both up here, along with no telling what else these days. The road will probably be clear for customers, but it’s also likely to be guarded. I figured we’d head into the woods a mile or so from there.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Xavier agreed. “You estimate there are twenty-three of them?”

  “I’d be really careful with that number, but yeah,” Zach sounded less than confident. “Their number was always fluid anyway, and since the Storm there is no telling what they’ve been about. They could have added to their number, and we know they’ve lost at least two, since we killed them.” He stopped, looking at his mentor in the eerie light of the NVD.

  “You know that if we don’t kill them all, it will mean war, right?” he asked quietly. “This is one of those families that will fight to the death over one of their own, even when that one is in the wrong. If they were better people, it might be worthy of admiration, I guess.”

  “But they are not better people, are they,” Xavier stated rather than asked. “We have established already that the world in general and this county in particular would be a much better place without them, have we not?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Zach nodded. “I got no problem going after them. Just wanted to make sure you knew what kind of people they are.”

  “Noted,” Xavier confirmed. “Now, let’s be about it. We’ve a long night ahead of us, no doubt.”

  “No doubt,” Zach echoed, smiling into the dark. “No doubt.”

  -

  “Have you seen Zach this evening?” Kim Powers asked as Clay walked outside to get some fresh air.

  “Sorry,” he shook his head. “You can check in operations and see if he’s on watch.”

  “I already did, and they said he wasn’t,” she informed him. “I guess he’s just out doing other stuff. Probably off learning a new way to kill someone from Xavier,” she snorted. “Good night,” she waved as she started up the hill.

  Clay watcher her go, wondering why that conversation bothered him so much. Why should it matter that Zach and Xavier were training together out in the night? Xavier and Brick both had been teaching Zach everything they could, and the teen just seemed to soak the knowledge up like a sponge.

  Perhaps more importantly, both had been helping Zach deal with the issues he faced that might lead him down another rampage such as the one he had gone on when Kaden Ramsey was killed. While that particular episode had done no lasting damage, that did not mean another one wouldn’t. It was better for everyone if Zach was able to control those overwhelming urges, and the two estranged brothers were perfect for that.

  “Have you seen X?” Jose asked, jarring Clay out of his thoughts as he looked around.

  “What?” Alarm bells were ringing in Clay’s head, though he hadn’t made the connection just yet.

  “Have you seen Red anywhere?” Jose repeated. “I walked out to the motorhome he’s staying in to tell him he had the early duty tomorrow and he isn’t there. I’ve looked everywhere he might normally hang out, and nothing. No one has seen him for hours.”

  “You didn’t happen to see Zach during that search, did you?” Clay asked carefully, an idea finally taking shape in his mind.

  “No, but I wasn’t looking for him,” Jose shrugged. “Why?”

  “Because no one has seen either of them for hours,” Clay sighed, sitting heavily into a chair. “Amanda Lowery is a favorite of Red’s. He’s been teaching her for two months or better. I don’t really know how long now that I honestly think on it.”

  “Aw, shit,” Jose muttered. “They’ve gone off the reservation.”

  “I’d say that is a safe bet,” Clay nodded, standing once more. “I need to find Greg. Very quietly put a three-man team together, including me. One small Cougar with a Deuce, and standard field loadout.”

  “Going after them?” Jose asked.

  “I don’t know where they’ve gone,” Clay admitted. “But I assume they’re going after this Bone family. To retaliate for Amanda.”

  “You don’t seriously think they need help with that,” Jose stated, disbelief showing on his face. “X and Zach both versus a bunch of inbred hillbilly trash? No offence,” he added when Clay raised an eyebrow.

  “None taken,” he chuckled. “I don’t know a one of them, but I’m assuming from Greg’s description you are spot on the money with that one. I need to go find the Sheriff. You put that package together for me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  -

  “What a quaint little village,” Xavier whispered as they overlooked the home of the Bone family.

  Just as Zach had said, it was more of a small village or settlement than a neighborhood. There was even one rather old two-story building that looked as if it might have once been a hotel of some kind.

  “See that line there?” Zach whispered, slowly pointing to an area of grass that was much different than the rest. It ran in a straight line just west of the large hotel type building, and right between the two more or less halves of the ‘village’.

  “Railroad?” Xavier asked, and Zach nodded.

  “They took the railroad up years ago,” Zach informed him. “Little places like this that had been
a sort of whistle stop, they just sort of died out for the most part. Or turned out like this.”

  “How charming,” Xavier replied, examining the area through a pair of night vision binoculars. “What was once a hotel is now apparently a house of ill-repute?”

  “If you mean whore house, then prob’ly,” Zach agreed. “That was a rumor running all through school. None of us bothered to come out here, though. Figured we’d catch something even bleach wouldn’t get rid of.” Xavier made a choking sound and it took Zach a second to realize that he was trying to smother a laugh.

  “Oh, me, Zachary,” Xavier finally managed to speak. “You really do have a way with words, sometimes.”

  “It’s a gift,” Zach shrugged. “Anyway, back before the Storm, this was the place to get bad shine, bootleg store whiskey, weed, meth or laid. Not necessarily in that order. Been a many a fella come out here and mess his life up but good.”

  “And the law did nothing about this?” Xavier asked.

  “Pepper was the law back then,” Zach snorted. “Long as Old Man Sanders was running things, they kept the whiskey where it wasn’t poison, but even he couldn’t stop the meth trade. I doubt anyone can, even now. Long as they can find what they need to cook, they’ll keep cooking.”

  “Sounds rather like the poppy trade,” Xavier murmured to himself. “Well, this Pepper gentleman aside, I believe we’ll be putting this place out of business this evening. I feel we have somewhat of a large score to settle. I am also quite angry, to be honest. I rather like Amanda Lowery.”

  It was all Zach could do to keep the surprise off his face. He had known that, but he’d never expected to hear Xavier admit to it. Hearing it made it more than real.

  “We shall move in from the north, I believe,” Xavier quickly sketched out a plan. “One to each side of their little slice of heaven. We shall use blades for as long as we can, then suppressed handguns. With subsonic ammunition they should be quiet enough, considering the noise level. I have seen nothing that even remotely resembles a guard, but you feel there will be one, somewhere?”