by Tracy Lawson
“There isn’t anyone here but me.”
“Like I said, I’m real sorry.”
Mitch led the way inside, where the sergeant who’d questioned him that morning took over. “We get a bounty on every member of the Resistance we bring in.”
“I told you—I just run the diner.”
“You ever hear of Tom Bailey? Or David Honerlaw?” The sergeant squinted at the screen on his phone as he read the names.
“I’m Tom Bailey.” Everyone turned toward the voice as Tom came out of the kitchen carrying a mug of coffee and a slice of pie on a plate. “Hello. I hope you don’t mind that I served myself. No one appeared to be on duty behind the counter.”
The four out-of-town marshals scurried past Mitch and drew their weapons. Tom set his coffee and pie on the counter and raised his hands. Their sergeant snarled at Mitch. “No one here but you, huh?” Then he turned back to Tom. “Where’s the rest of ’em?”
Tom looked insulted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. However, I do have business with OCSD Director Davies, and if you’ll contact her, I’m sure she’ll confirm that she’s anxious to meet with me.”
“Not until we make sure there’s no one else here. Besides you, we’ve got warrants for Trina Jacobs, Lara Bailey, David Honerlaw, Grace Hughes, and Thomas Bailey, Junior.” The sergeant paused and licked his lips, wolf-like.
Tom’s expression remained blank. “I’m alone. You have my word.”
“Your word don’t mean squat to me, mister. Everyone knows the Resistance is a bunch of liars and terrorists.” The sergeant turned a scrutinizing gaze on Mitch.
Paul McComas jumped in. “Mitch? Resistance? Nah. I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s the kind of feller who likes to be left alone. Never known him to care what’s going on outside this quadrant. His brother was QM. Killed in the line of duty last week.”
The sergeant looked unconvinced. “Search this place.”
His marshals swarmed through the diner, into the kitchen, and upstairs to the living quarters, while the locals stood soberly by. Mitch winced at the sounds of breaking glass and china in the kitchen. Heavy footsteps pounded back and forth overhead. Before long, the youngest marshal ran into the dining room, waving what looked like a white flag.
“Look! She was here!” He held up a white T-shirt bearing the letters CXD written in permanent marker. “She was wearing this in that video! Just wait! When we catch ’em we’ll be all over PeopleCam!”
Mitch chuckled. “Don’t count on it. What you see on the news is hardly ever what really happened.”
The sergeant stared at Mitch. “You think you’re funny, don’t you? I’ve got a few more questions for you. Where do you get your supplies?”
“Through all the usual channels.”
“Let me see your license and paperwork.”
Tom took a seat at the counter and pulled his pie closer, while Mitch brought a sheaf of papers and a debit card reader out from under the counter.
The sergeant barely glanced at them. “I’m shutting you down.”
“What? Why? My paperwork’s all there.”
The marshal pointed at Tom. “You served food to a member of the Resistance. That’s aiding and abetting.”
“Hell, this one wandered in on his own and stole that coffee and pie. Besides, I don’t run background checks on people before I serve them food.”
“You should.”
Mitch muttered, “Son of a …” He’d detected a hint of a smile on Tom’s face as he raised his mug to his lips.
The sergeant’s tone was triumphant. “You had it coming. I’ve known there was something going on since the first time I ate here. Your food is far too good to be legal.”
6:24 PM
Eduardo flipped the power switch on the ancient computer, and it whirred and whined without doing anything. He held up a square of hard plastic. “Why did they call this thing a floppy disk?” He was about to insert it into the drive when Jaycee’s cries startled him.
“Where’s Tommy?” She stuck her head into the tiny bedroom off the main room and then ran up the stairs. She was back in seconds. “He’s not anywhere!”
Eduardo looked around. Sure enough, the kid had vanished. “He must’ve gone back down to the diner.”
“No! How could he do that?” She looked as though she were going to cry.
Lara didn’t look surprised. “How could he not?”
David Honerlaw shook his head. “Impetuous youth.”
“Now what?” Trina sat on the arm of the sagging sofa.
Eduardo spoke up. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a while. I was hoping this computer equipment was operational, but it’s older than I am. I can’t get a signal to send a text from in here, either. These walls must be lined with lead or something. I didn’t know I was going to be stuck out here indefinitely. I’ve got stuff to do. I’ve got to get in touch with the president again.”
“Again?” Grace regarded him with interest for the first time since he’d arrived. “When did you last communicate with the president?”
“I got an appointment to see him at the White House about three weeks ago. The Postmaster General helped me.” He turned to Trina. “I tried to tell him. You and mi carina … you’re not terrorists. You didn’t kill Stratford. But he gave me the brush-off.”
Trina nodded. “It’s not going to be any easier to convince him now, what with—”
“Claro.” Eduardo nodded. “We can’t do this alone. The president has the power to help us. There might be others who will help us, too, but how are we going to accomplish anything if we can’t communicate with the outside world?”
An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Without Mitch and Tom to act as leaders, Eduardo took over. “Well, at least we can make a plan while we wait, no?”
“Rescue Careen.” Jaycee’s expression dared anyone to question her.
“Rescue Tom, too, more than likely.” David shrugged and sat on the sofa.
Eduardo refused to joke. “Our mission is much bigger than rescuing Carina. We know Madalyn accused her and Trina of murder to cover up her own crimes. If we find someone willing to challenge Madalyn’s authority and expose the truth, we can bring Stratford’s real killer to justice.”
Chapter 22
7:40 PM
Quadrant BG-098
Tommy heard car doors slam as he emerged from the woods behind the diner. He worked his way deep into the underbrush near the side of the building, where he could see the Jeeps lined up in the parking lot.
He crouched in the shadows, listening as the marshals fanned out on the property and searched the barn and the boardinghouse. Flashlight beams played through the trees, reminding him of the night he and Careen escaped from the capital. He’d hoped he’d never have to go back there again. Now it looked like his return was inevitable.
When the marshals wrapped up their search of the area and prepared to depart, Tommy saw his dad, in handcuffs, walking among them. The marshals helped him into the back of a Jeep and, one by one, they roared away. As soon as the last one was out of sight around the bend, he headed for the back door.
Mitch jumped to his feet as Tommy burst into the dining room and then slumped back onto his stool at the counter. “What the hell was that all about? Your dad’s lost his marbles. He’s messing everything up.”
He ignored Mitch and began rummaging beneath the counter. “Where are the keys to the truck? I’m going after him.”
“Hold on. You can’t do that.”
Tommy faced him across the faded Formica, index finger inches from his nose. “No! Just shut up for once! I’ve had enough of you, my dad, and even Wes telling me what to do. I can’t let my dad go to the OCSD alone, and while I’m in the capital, I’m going to find Careen. I don’t really care what you think.” He almost wished Mitch would take another swing at him. “Where are the keys?”
“Fine. Go. Keys are on the hook by the walk-in.” Mitch pointed into the kitchen.
&n
bsp; Tommy stepped over the shattered plates, broken glasses, and pots and pans that littered the floor and grabbed the keys off the hook. He heard the bell on the diner’s front door jingle, and assuming Mitch was mounting one more attempt to block him from taking the truck, he dashed back out of the kitchen and froze. Mitch stood behind the counter, hands in the air, as a lone quadrant marshal advanced on him with gun drawn.
The marshal turned his gaze on Tommy and slowly smiled. “You look a lot like your pa, don’t you, boy?”
Tommy stepped up beside Mitch and raised his hands.
“He lied when he said you weren’t here. Bet your mama’s around, too. By God, I’ll turn this place upside down until we find every last one of you rebels. Tom Bailey ain’t as smart as he thinks he is.”
His eyes narrowed as he regarded Mitch. “He was protecting you, too, I’ll wager. I thought the local marshals bought that story too easily. Friends of yours, ain’t they? I know how things work down here in the hills. Well, they’re not here to protect you now, so you’d best cooperate. Things’ll go easier for you. Come on, out with it!”
Tommy held his breath while he waited for Mitch to answer. His glance darted around the room, looking for some escape route, some kind of hope. Then he saw a flicker of movement outside, over the marshal’s shoulder.
The marshal chuckled at Mitch’s hesitation and turned his attention to Tommy. “Why don’t you toss me those keys, boy? You’re not going anywhere.” Tommy underhanded the keys across the counter and intentionally threw wide. The marshal lunged and caught them just as Danni shouldered open the diner’s front door, carrying a cardboard box loaded with food.
Startled and off balance, the marshal whirled on her. Two shots rang out. Danni dropped the box and food rained down around the marshal’s body as he hit the floor. Mitch looked at Tommy in amazement.
“Nice shooting, kid.”
Only then did Tommy look down at the gun in his hand and realize he’d drawn and fired on instinct. He stumbled out from behind the counter and recoiled at the sight of the sprawling body, the two bullet wounds, and the spreading blood that tainted the spilled food.
“Oh shit. Oh God. Oh shit.” He laid his gun on the counter and turned his back on the scene, fighting the urge to puke.
As Danni locked the door and shut the blinds, Mitch knelt and felt for a pulse, then shook his head. Nothing. He hurried into the kitchen and came back with latex gloves, a roll of plastic wrap, and a stack of towels. He tossed a pair of gloves to each of them.
“Come on. Lift him up so I can contain the mess. We can stash him in the freezer.”
Tommy’s stomach lurched but he obeyed, pushing the body to a sitting position while Mitch wrapped several layers of plastic around the marshal’s torso and pinned his arms to his sides. Mitch grabbed the feet, and they hefted him up and carried him to the walk-in while Danni soaked up the blood with the towels. Tommy’s heart thudded as he back stepped, crunching through broken dishes and stumbling over a stockpot while trying not to look at the burden he carried. How could Mitch and Danni be so calm?
They concealed the body behind some crates in a corner of the walk-in, and on the way back, Mitch grabbed a mop and a bottle of bleach.
Danni dropped her bloody gloves on the mound of blood-soaked towels, and Tommy gladly did the same.
She grabbed the gun off the counter and caught Tommy by the arm. “Mitch, I’ll send you a message when we get there.”
She guided him out the door to her truck, shoved him into the passenger seat, and climbed aboard. “We’ll take the back road off the mountain. We’re less likely to see anyone that way.”
He nodded, crossed his arms on his chest, and tried to stop shaking.
Chapter 23
8:15 PM
Quadrant DC-001
Garrick phoned Madalyn to share the latest development in the hunt for the members of the Resistance. “There’s a squad of QM on their way up from BG-098 with Tom Bailey.”
“Really? Wait … you mean Tom Bailey, Junior, right?”
“No, it’s the not-so-dead guy.” He couldn’t resist the dig. “He turned himself in when the QM showed up at that diner.”
“Why would he do that? What about the rest of them?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. And he denies knowing the whereabouts of anyone else in the Resistance.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. There are so many people hiding in that quadrant; it’s a wonder your marshals aren’t tripping over them. Tell them not to rest until they’ve apprehended Trina Jacobs!”
“I can dispatch another squad to look around, but it’d be better to wait until tomorrow.”
“These delays are unacceptable!”
“Why are you so afraid of this guy? Is he really that dangerous?”
“Of course he’s dangerous. He’s one of the leaders of the Resistance. Their seditious acts pose enough danger to keep the national terrorist threat level at Elevated. The Resistance’s aim is the same as that of any other terrorist group—they are trying to destroy our way of life.”
“But if Bailey faked his own death, why is he resurfacing now? Why turn himself in?”
“I have no idea. But apprehending the members of the Resistance—both the live ones and the ones who are pretending to be dead—should be your top priority.”
“What about the investigation into Stratford’s death?”
“That’s old news. Tracking down Trina Jacobs is the key to everything. Once we have her in custody, we can close Lowell’s murder investigation and eliminate the threat posed by the Resistance.”
“The Resistance isn’t just going to go away, even if you arrest every man, woman, and child in the BG quadrants. You do realize that, don’t you? I’ve been getting reports of increased Resistance activity, and that CXD group has been in the news. Their Restriction-Free Zones are cropping up on college campuses all over the country.”
Madalyn huffed out an exasperated breath. “Then I’ll order PeopleCam to stop coverage of anything that has to do with CXD or the Resistance—unless it’s to report that they’ve all been apprehended and put in jail. Now might be a good time to announce that Careen Catecher is in custody, and let all those dissidents know that in exchange for her cooperation and her willingness to share information about the Resistance, we’re going to let her work for us.”
9:56 PM
Quadrant OP-439
Henry Nelson’s grandmother used to say that if you want to make friends with a new neighbor, go to the back door. He wasn’t interested in making friends, but it was still good advice. He approached the vacant store from the alley this time.
He’d inked CXD on his hand with a Sharpie before he left his house, and now he pulled off a glove and flashed the symbol to the young man standing in the doorway.
“What’s the password?”
“Careen.” It had been on the slip of paper.
“That was last meeting’s password.”
“Aw, come on. I heard about it, but I couldn’t make it last night.”
“Yeah?” He motioned another boy over and muttered something to him about a new guy. Nelson tried not to look too eager.
“Yeah, all right. No phones in the meeting. You get it back when you leave.”
Nelson shrugged, shut off his phone, and handed it over. He chose a seat off to the side, where he’d be inconspicuous but could still see everyone in the room. He recognized half of them. It was a marshal’s duty to know all the families in his assigned quadrant by sight and by name, but college kids from other quadrants could exist unnoticed as long as they stayed out of trouble.
He eyed the group of teenagers that was breaking curfew to attend the meeting. He had to put a stop to this before their minds became poisoned against the OCSD.
He kept his expression neutral when that loudmouthed kid Jude spoke up. “Okay, it’s too dangerous to try to re-establish the Restriction-Free Zone in the same location now that the QM is cracking down. We’ve got to be p
roactive. From now on, we’ll operate the Restriction-Free Zone as a pop-up. We can establish a Zone anywhere and move on if the QM hassles us. We’ll reach more people that way, anyhow.”
He’d bust that kid for something—anything. He was enjoying his role as organizer too much. Unchecked, it wouldn’t be long before he was just like Careen and Tommy Bailey—setting off bombs.
8:56 PM
Quadrant BG-098
As soon as Mitch finished cleaning up the mess in the diner, he showered and changed. Out in the barn, he unscrewed the shelves from the wall and shoved them aside to expose his office door, where he stowed trash bags full of his clothes, boots, and the bloody towels. He grabbed his satellite phone from the cabinet and when Atari answered, he spoke without preamble. “I’ve got two birds flying the coop, on the way to you.”
“Hope one of them is Danni. How I’ve missed that sweet little piece of—”
“Jeez, Atari. This is an emergency. Could you be serious for once? And could you avoid referring to my cousin that way, at least to me?” Mitch squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Since it bothers you so much, I’ll save my sentiments for when I see her. Wanna know about your candy man?”
“Yeah. Seen him?”
“He’s under lock and key, but he’s all right. For now.”
“Okay. That’s something, anyway. Bailey’s on the way there, courtesy of the QM. What’s the word on Careen?”
“Ah yes, the sweetheart of the Resistance and another sweet … . Does it bother you if I objectify her? She’s not a relative, is she? Never mind. Nope. Haven’t seen her.”