Refugees - 03

by D. J. Molles

  “Let me guess: big responsibilities and fear of failure?”

  “Swing and miss, Father.” LaRouche rose up and stretched his legs.

  “Well, I’m not a mind reader.” Jim held his hands out to the fire.

  LaRouche let the silence stretch for a minute. “You have family, Jim?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wife? Kids?”

  “No. Never married. I’ve got a mother and father, but they live in upstate New York, so…”

  “Oh.”

  “I guess I should say ‘lived’.”

  “Do you know that they’re dead?”

  “They were pretty old.”

  “Still…”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  LaRouche eyed the ex-priest. “Any thoughts? Devotionals? Words of wisdom?”

  Jim smiled. “How about a verse of the day?”

  “Okay. I’m listening.”

  Jim squeezed LaRouche’s shoulder and spoke with the quiet confidence of a clergyman: “‘But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved. Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see’.”

  “Hm.” LaRouche considered the words for a time. “How do you keep all of those scriptures in your head?”

  Jim laughed. “Oh, I don’t have an encyclopedic knowledge of The Bible, unfortunately. I know…that doesn’t make me a very good priest, but then again, I never pretended to be a very good priest.” He sighed. “No. The scriptures that I’m able to quote directly are only because I’ve quoted them to myself every day since this all began, trying to remind myself that I’m gonna get through this.”

  “You have doubts?”

  “I always have doubts. It’s human nature to doubt. But faith isn’t the absence of doubt, it’s the decision to believe in something contrary to what you observe.”

  “So you believe that we’ll come out of this okay?”

  A faint smile. “I’ve made the decision to believe that there is a purpose to all of this, that everything works together for the glory of God, and that whether or not my own personal survival is in the cards, what we’re doing here needs to be done, and will be done.”

  “What if the purpose is to wipe out the human race?”

  Jim looked at him askew. “What if there’s no God?”

  LaRouche seemed taken aback by the suggestion.

  “You can gloom and doom it all day long, and I guarantee you won’t beat me at it—my family’s Irish-catholic.”

  LaRouche chuffed and rolled his eyes.

  “Positive thinking to us is expecting the worst and hoping it’s over quickly.”

  “Okay,” LaRouche laughed. “You’ve got me beat.”

  “Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson.” Jim adjusted his glasses and spoke sternly. “Don’t ever try to one-up me on depressing thoughts, ever again.”

  “So, you’re ready for this?”

  Jim thought about it. “I suppose so. You?”

  “Yeah. I suppose so, as well.”

  CHAPTER 27: TRAITORS

  Marie made a special breakfast that morning. She began cooking when it was still dark, and continued on until everyone had eaten. She viewed it as her job to keep everyone fed, and with the two groups due to depart later that day, she felt that it was her duty to cook an extravagant breakfast, or at least what passed for extravagant at Camp Ryder. It became apparent as she cooked, that she’d been hiding away stashes of goods a little bit at a time. Things that she normally didn’t use in the regular cooking. Things like sugar and cinnamon—things that were hard to come by.

  So Camp Ryder and its members that had volunteered to go out to the east and to the north, to blow bridges and rescue refugees, felt like kings at breakfast, and full of good food and lifted by the light-hearted conversation that went with it, they left to gather their things and say their goodbyes.

  Lee, Harper, and LaRouche began to arrange the vehicles into two columns and to load the LMTVs with their respective payloads of ordnance and munitions, as well as stocking the Humvees with extra ammunition, food, and water. After a while, they were joined by Wilson and Lucky, who helped load in the last couple hundred pounds of C4 and several crates of claymore mines.

  As they worked, the day began to warm slightly, and they even began to sweat, though it was quickly chilled from their foreheads once they stood still for a moment. The jackets came off, and they worked in just their hoodies and sweaters.

  Gradually, the vehicles were filled to capacity and the volunteers began to trickle into the square, stowing their packs in the rears of the vehicles they would ride in or drive. As the work became lighter, and more and more of them stood around in quiet conversation, the jackets were donned again.

  When they were finished, Lee met Harper and LaRouche between the two columns of vehicles. He’d left Tomlin upstairs in the office to avoid having to explain things repeatedly. Bus was aware of the situation, and Lee was sure that everyone in Camp Ryder would hear it from the good old fashioned grape vine soon enough.

  He put a hand on each of their shoulders. “You guys feeling okay about this?”

  “Sure.” LaRouche nodded.

  “I guess,” Harper said, a little less confident.

  “I have to work with Tomlin to resolve a couple issues,” Lee continued, quietly. “As soon as I can make sure everything is secure back here, I’ll be joining you, LaRouche, out east. You both have a half-dozen repeaters in your supplies, so make ‘em count and stay in contact so we can coordinate, okay?”

  “Roger that,” LaRouche sighed. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

  “No idea.” Lee shrugged. “I’ll ballpark it at a week.”

  Harper looked at him gravely. “Just be careful, Lee.”

  Lee smiled. “I’m always careful.”

  “Okay.”

  Lee took his hands from their shoulders. “Take it to ‘em, guys.”

  Without another word, they mounted up and a chorus of diesel engines rumbled to life up and down the columns of vehicles. Lee stood in the middle of them and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling sick to his stomach. If there was anything more nerve-wracking than being in danger, it was sending others out to be in danger without you.

  The sentries pulled the front gates clear of the road.

  In the side view mirror of the lead Humvee, Lee could see Harper looking at him. His face was pure concern, but when Lee made eye-contact with him, he smiled bravely and flicked a salute off his forehead. Lee returned the gesture, and the Humvee rolled away.

  Harper’s convoy left first, followed immediately by LaRouche’s. The long train of vehicles kicked up dust as they trundled out of Camp Ryder, slowly and deliberately out into a hostile world, and in less than an hour they would be in unknown territory, amongst unknown threats and unknown people. They would adapt and overcome—they would have to. Everything depended on it.

  Out of sight from Camp Ryder, down the winding dirt road that led away from safety and security, Harper’s lead Humvee reached the end of the dirt road and the beginning of the blacktop of Highway 27. The column slowed to a stop as though waiting for a break in traffic before continuing. Then the Humvee’s tires scratched over the gravel, turning right, towards Highway 421 that would take them north, towards their destination.

  The column of vehicles split in the middle, half going right and half going left.

  ***

  Jerry leaned against a shanty, quietly regarding the gates as the convoy of military vehicles disappeared from sight. His lips were pursed in concentration and his mind was working quickly now, his heart beating fast in his chest as he thought about his plan. Camp Ryder was empty of Captain Harden’s thugs—all the volunteers that had any training had just left in a cloud of dust.

  His fingers and toes tingled with excitement.

  The gates were closed and locked again and Bus and Captain Harden, walking side-by-side, disappeared back into the Camp Ryder building.
Something was going on between them and whoever the guy was that they’d captured yesterday. Eyes and ears around the camp were telling Jerry that the captive was no longer so captive, and possibly was up in the office with Bus and Captain Harden.

  Interesting.

  Jerry turned quickly and strode through the rows of shacks, towards the fence line. When he reached it, he hung a left and followed the chain link fence all the way to the quiet northwestern corner of the compound where a jumble of shipping containers had yet to be put to good use and no shanties had been built. He sidled between two shipping containers and found Greg waiting.

  “What’s the news?”

  Greg looked around conspiratorially. “Just got word from Doc Hamilton in Smithfield. Apparently that guy from Virginia…”

  “Jacob?”

  “Yeah…Apparently he shows up last night with a ‘package’.” Greg’s voice dropped even lower and he leaned forward. “It was an infected. They captured an infected!”

  Jerry’s face screwed up. “What? Why the hell would they do that?”

  Greg shook his head. “That’s not all, man. Doc Hamilton says that Jacob had him help with the infected. They have it secured in a room so that Jacob can study it, but here’s what really freaked me out…” Greg swallowed. “The infected is a female…and she’s pregnant.”

  The two men stared at each other.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  Greg shrugged. “I haven’t seen it. I’m just relaying what Doc Hamilton told me. And Doc Hamilton was freaked out by this shit. If you’re asking my opinion, then yes…I believe it’s true.”

  Jerry rubbed his stubbled chin. “This changes things.”

  “They’re procreating. They’re not dying off.”

  Jerry looked at his compatriot. “No, they’re not. I don’t think it would be wise to wait until the refugees from up north get here to make our move. This is something we need to get ahead of immediately.”

  “We need to move now.”

  Jerry nodded. “Send the message to Professor White to be ready to move. The minute he gets his weapons, I want him staging right outside Camp Ryder. Out of sight. You know the plan.”

  Greg nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Jerry turned to leave, but then stopped himself. “Greg…”

  Greg raised an eyebrow.

  Jerry wagged a finger. “Don’t tell him about the pregnant infected. Lie to him if you have to, but he cannot know about that.”

  Greg looked like he didn’t quite understand, but nodded anyways.

  Jerry slipped quietly out from between the shipping containers.

  There was work to be done.

  ***

  “Let’s talk about this informant,” Lee said, taking a seat in the office.

  Tomlin was center-stage between Lee and Bus, his hands clutched in his lap, the subject of Bus’s intense scrutiny. The bigger man sat leaning forward and glaring unsurely at the newcomer from underneath bushy brows. Lee had explained the situation in short-form, and to his credit, Bus simply absorbed the information without reaction.

  Tomlin nodded to the question. “Okay. But I should be clear, I don’t know the guy.”

  “You knew the two marksmen,” Lee pointed out. “Didn’t you? Would you know of anyone else he might send?”

  “First, I didn’t know the two marksmen.” Tomlin met their eyes. “I found out about them after they’d already been sent, but I couldn’t have picked them out of a crowd. And I have no idea who they would have sent to do this job.” He shrugged. “I can make some educated assumptions, though.”

  “Such as?”

  He directed his attention to Bus. “How many people does Camp Ryder take in, let’s say, on a weekly basis?”

  Bus, still showing some hesitance, glanced at Lee, who nodded. Bus didn’t seem to want to give Tomlin extra information, but if Lee trusted him…

  “Maybe three or four a week? Usually families, or groups.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to be hard to find this person.” Tomlin unfolded his arms and looked a bit more confident. “They would have come within the last month, so you’re talking about a maximum of maybe a dozen potential suspects. I think we can narrow it down from there.”

  “I imagine he would have come alone,” Lee suggested.

  Bus grimaced. “I don’t know if we’ve had any single folks come in lately…except maybe Jacob.”

  “Jacob, the guy from Virginia?” Tomlin asked.

  “Yes.”

  Tomlin shook his head, but didn’t look very sure of himself. “I don’t know. He came straight from Mitchell…I mean…I guess it’s possible…”

  Bus made a grim noise. “If it’s possible we should pursue it.”

  Lee rubbed his neck. “No one else has shown up by themselves?”

  Bus thought about it for a moment, mentally flipping the pages of an imaginary ledger. Finally, he shook his head. “No. And I personally oversee everyone that comes into Camp Ryder.”

  “What about groups?” Lee said. “He might have inserted himself into another group that was traveling.”

  “That would help hide him,” Tomlin agreed.

  “Most of the groups we get are families.” Bus tapped a finger. “But we’ve gotten two groups of three in the past month that have not been related to each other. One was two men and a woman, and the other was three guys—a little younger, like maybe fresh out of college.”

  Now Tomlin leaned forward, interested. “The younger guys…anyone in the group stand out? Anyone strike you as military, or maybe the other two didn’t seem as comfortable with him?”

  Bus shook his head. “No, there was nothing really noteworthy about them. But they did get here at the beginning of last month…maybe the first week of October? Is that too early?”

  Tomlin wavered a hand. “It’s a bit early, but not out of the question.”

  “Let me ask you a question, Brian.” Lee steepled his fingers. “You told me earlier that you were basically concerned for my safety. Whoever this guy is…is he going to try to take me out?”

  “Lee…” Tomlin seemed uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I don’t know how he’s communicating with Abe, or any of that other shit. But I can tell you that eventually the powers that be will realize I’m no longer working for them, if they have not realized that already. And when they realize that I’m out of the equation, and the two marksmen have been killed, the only person they have left to take you out is whoever snuck into Camp Ryder.” Tomlin rubbed his legs. “And they want you dead, Lee.”

  Lee sat still for a moment. He took a heavy breath and puffed it out. “Okay. Then here’s what I propose: I’ve got to run a batch of rifles out to Professor White’s group at Lillington ASAP. While I’m doing that, you two work together to make a list of potential suspects. Then we’ll question our potentials, and hopefully root out the one we’re looking for.”

  Bus shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  Tomlin nodded slowly.

  Lee eyed them. “Problem with the plan?”

  “Those are heavy charges to bring on someone,” Bus said quietly.

  “Brian’s a good interrogator,” Lee gestured towards his fellow captain. “He knows how to read people, and he’ll know when they’re lying to him. We won’t need to make any accusations—we’ll keep things as friendly as possible. But we can’t just sit around and wait for them to reveal themselves, Bus. We’re going to have to go in and pull them out.”

  Bus changed the subject. “You’re not making the trip out to Lillington by yourself, are you?”

  “Well, I figured I’d grab Eddie Ramirez and see if we couldn’t swing by and take a look at some of those vehicles we left behind. Figure out what he needs to fix to ‘em.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Tomlin asked.

  “No.” Lee shook his head. “I want you here with Bus, figuring out who we need to talk to.”

  “I’ve gotta ask…” Bus tur
ned to Lee. “What are we gonna do when we find this person?”

  Lee rubbed his hands together and inspected the ground at his feet. “I dunno. We’ll just hafta cross that bridge when we come to it, Bus.”

  When he looked up, he found Tomlin looking at him with peculiar intensity. The look conveyed everything that Lee did not want to say, did not want to put into words, because it was nasty and divisive and would ruin relationships with the people of Camp Ryder.

  Lee gave Tomlin an almost imperceptible nod.

  Yeah, I know, he thought. It’s gonna be ugly.

  ***

  When Lee left the office, there was a long moment of awkward silence between Tomlin and Bus, the two men sitting across from each other, each sizing the other up. Out of deference to the man that apparently ran Camp Ryder, Tomlin kept his mouth shut and waited for Bus to say something. However, it became apparent after an unsettling sixty seconds, that Bus had no intention of being the first to break the silence.

  Tomlin smacked his lips. “Alright. I’ll go first.”

  Bus cleared his throat and tilted his head back slightly.

  “I think it’s pretty clear that you don’t like me…”

  “I would say that I’m…” Bus tried a few different words in his mind before settling on one. “Ambivalent.”

  Tomlin gave him a longsuffering smile. “Ambivalent.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s start this relationship out with some honesty.”

  “Honesty sounds great.”

  “There’s someone in your camp that is going to try to kill Captain Harden. We’re not going to let that happen, because if it were to happen there would be dire consequences for both of us. Aside from the fact that neither of us want to see him hurt because he’s our friend, we’re gonna have a helluva time fighting this battle without him.”

  Bus nodded once.

  “If you agree with that, then I’ll make you a deal: I help you find this guy and I won’t poke my nose in any other place it doesn’t need to be, as long as I get the information I need, and I come up with a list of suspects, question them, and figure out who the bad guy is. And in return for that, you trust me.”