by Warren Ray
“Then what?” asked another.
Elliott replied. “Like Nate said, we shoot the place up and kill 'em.”
“Who exactly is going to do that?”
The room fell silent with that comment and all eyes fell on Winters. He wondered if they thought he was some kind of a cold-blooded killer. They might think differently, if only they knew how afraid he had been out in those woods, his legs shaking so bad, he had to crawl on his hands and knees. How he had run away before the guilt of not doing anything turned him around, or how he vomited in the sink after killing those men.
“I’ll volunteer,” said Elliott.
Nate spoke up. “Hell, count me in. I’d love nothing more than taking these bastards out.”
No one else said anything. Eyes turned toward the floor. Winters knew they were afraid, and so they should be. Pulling a trigger was easy. Taking a man’s life was not.
He spoke. “I’ll go. We’ll just walk in like we’re the drivers.”
Suddenly, chills rushed through his body. A radio sitting unnoticed in the corner of the room had come to life: “Train station Alpha, come in. Train station Alpha, come in, this is Bravo Patriot Center, come in.”
Chapter 5
Victor Iowa
The radioman turned to Decker and asked. “They’re not answering the radio. I’ve been trying to contact them for twenty minutes now. Should we call the colonel?”
“No! Last thing I need is that guy up my ass. We’ll wait. They’re probably having a problem with a truck or something.”
Decker was in his early thirties and wore his greasy, brown hair shoulder length. For a diminutive man, he was a smug bastard. He was in the transportation business, and the cargo didn’t matter to him, so long as he got paid. In these trying times, it was every man for himself, and he was all about looking out for number one. He wasn’t fond of the volunteers and thought they were a bunch of self-righteous old men thinking they could be the saviors of the American dream. For him, that dream was dead in the water. He thought it better to get rid of them, rather than having them around making trouble for the new government. Besides, it would be fewer mouths to feed.
“Maybe we should send someone and see if anything has happened,” said the radioman.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be along soon enough. You worried about a bunch of old men who don’t have a clue what’s going to happen to them?”
Lucas County Iowa
The radio sitting in the corner of the room fell silent again.
Some moments passed before Winters spoke up.
“I think we need to leave.”
“We should burn this place down,” suggested Elliott.
“Probably a good idea. Try and hide what I did here.”
“Well, I was thinking so they wouldn’t ever be able to use it again.”
Winters grimaced. “Yes, of course, that too.”
“What about the prisoner?”
Winters turned to him and noticed he had grown pale. “Well, we can’t leave him here. Better to take him with us.”
A few of the men hopped into the transports and moved them closer to the building. The remainder scattered around in nervous excitement.
Fifteen minutes later, everyone was out of the building except Winters and Elliott.
“You ready?” Winters asked.
“Yep,” said Elliott as he backed down the hall pouring diesel fuel on the floor. When they walked out the door into the parking lot, Nate came over to them.
“He’s dead,” said Nate.
“Who’s dead?” Winters asked.
“The prisoner…little prick got what he deserved anyway.”
Winters rolled his eyes. He thought about the dead driver and how he represented yet another man he had killed. He didn’t necessarily want him to die, but on the other hand, they wouldn’t have to deal with a prisoner anymore. He instructed them to carry the driver inside with the others.
Elliott lit the torch he had put together with old rags soaked in diesel fuel.
“You want the honors?” asked Elliott.
Winters shook his head.
Elliott threw the torch into the building. Fire immediately ran through the hall and into each room quickly spreading throughout the old building. The place began to crackle and smoke poured out of the windows as they gave away to the heat. The men watched the orange flames dance high into the air as the building began to collapse.
Winters formed a small smile. “Let’s go get that list,” he said.
The trucks pulled out, leaving a billowing cloud of smoke behind them. Winters sat up front with Elliott who drove the lead truck.
“Everyone’s real thankful for what you did,” said Elliott.
“Well, we got lucky I suppose,” said Winters.
“You married?”
Winters flinched at the question. He had just buried his wife a week ago. “Widower.”
Elliott turned to Winters. “I'm sorry. What was her name?”
“Ellie. She, ah, got cancer. Took her real quick.”
“That sucks. You got kids?”
“Got a daughter, Cara. She's off in Florida.”
Elliott decided to change the subject. “So, where you from?”
“Sabine Iowa.”
“Oh yeah, I know a couple of farmers over that way,” said Elliott. “You know the Nelsons or Clarks?”
Winters shook his head. “Can't say I know any of them. All these guys here your friends?”
“Pretty much, we’re all from the Fairfield area, and know the same people, or what’s left of them.”
“You and Nate good friends?”
“I’ve known him ever since we were kids. We’re both fifty-three, so we went through grade school and high school together. His family had the farm next to ours, and there were plenty of times we helped each other with the chores. He didn’t like farming much, which is why he became a mechanic. Boy can fix just about anything.”
“You a farmer Elliott?”
“Yep. Daddy left the farm to me after he died. About the only thing I know how to do is farm. That and fish.”
“You married? Any kids?”
“Oh yeah, my Amy and I been married thirty years now, got myself two grown girls, neither married yet.”
“Nate?”
“Nate never did marry, he never wanted to get tied down, although truth be known, no girl could ever slow him down. Nate is a bit on the aggressive side, got a wild streak in him. I always thought he’d settle down by now,” said Elliott chuckling to himself.
“How many of your neighbors headed south to the camps?” asked Winters referring to the FEMA camps set up to handle the mass migration into the warmer climate. Since the crash, the nation's inadequate power grid caused major blackouts. The shortages spread around the country, forcing power companies to ration electricity.
“Some did. Most of us don’t trust the government anymore. Look at the way they threw out the Constitution.”
Winters scoffed at that. It was beyond comprehension how that happened. During the chaos of the economic crash, people started protesting by the tens of thousands. These protests turned violent and the military was ordered to regain control. Unfortunately, they made the situation worse by opening fire. Hundreds of Americans died. Everyone blamed the president and under pressure from Congress and the media, he resigned.
The new president wasn't the Vice President, because he was embroiled in corruption scandals of his own and had resigned as well. The Speaker of the House became president, but he was just as corrupt as the Vice President. With help from wealthy power players, a willing media, corrupt judges and other politicians jockeying for power, the new President with the excuse of restoring control, nationalized the government.
After using the Constitution to get in the white house, the new President threw it aside and all power now resided with him. Besides eliminating states rights, the President put a ban on free speech and outlawed firearms.
Elliott
turned to Winters. “Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that they’re somehow involved with these killings.”
Winters took off his hat and scratched his head. “Damn I hope not. I’d hate to think the Army would do something like this.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “If we can’t trust them, who can we trust?”
Elliott shrugged his shoulders.
Winters sat quietly and went through the plan they'd put together for when they got back to the Patriot Center. He tried to think of the name of the little guy in charge. Winters remembered him as an annoying little bastard who continuously yelled and barked orders like a Chihuahua. At the time he couldn’t wait to leave but now, couldn’t wait to get back.
“What was the name of that annoying little bastard?” Winters asked.
“Oh, you mean Decker.”
“Ah, yes, Decker.”
“Quite a character that one.”
“I didn’t like him from the get-go.”
“Well, Mr. Decker is going to have a very bad day today.”
As they bounced along the highway, the wind whistled through the open windows. Winters pulled his hat down, which reminded him of yesterday and the friendly banter among his friends when a heavy gust whipped through and blew it off his head. He had gotten up and started climbing over the tailgate. His friends were flabbergasted that he was going to jump. They immediately started razzing him, but Winters retorted with a single phrase, “It’s my lucky hat,” and then made his fateful jump.
Elliott turned to Winters. “We’re getting close.”
Winters recognized passing landmarks and knew they were coming up on the outskirts of Victor, Iowa. A few more minutes and they would be there.
“Okay, here we go,” said Elliott.
As the three big green transports entered the north end of town, the rumbling sound of the trucks echoed off the houses on either side announcing their arrival.
Elliott slowed down as he approached the entrance. They saw two guards, who were both carrying AR-15s, standing in the parking lot waiting for their return, and staring at them as the transports pulled in.
“Real easy, Elliott, real easy,” said Winters.
Elliott took his time pulling in. Fortunately, the sun reflected off the truck's windshield and prevented a clear view of who was driving. As Elliott pulled in to park, Nate was right behind him in the second truck. He shifted the truck into neutral and engaged the parking brake. Neither of them spoke as they glanced at each other while grabbing their weapons.
Elliott climbed down keeping his back toward the guards. He lifted his boot up onto the running board to tie the shoelace.
Winters hopped out and scooted to the front, staying out of sight. The diesel engine sat rumbling, radiating heat and making Winters sweat while he waited for Elliott to make a move.
Elliott’s big move was to come around the front. He looked so panicky that his hands were shaking.
Winters asked him. “Are you alright?”
He nodded hesitantly. “I didn’t know what else to do. Is he following me?”
Winters peeked over Elliott’s shoulder. “Yes, steady now. Give him another few seconds, he's passing Nate now.”
The guard raised his head while moving past Nate's truck. Nate pretended not to notice him and the guard kept walking toward Elliott. Nate kept his eye on the side mirror and saw the second one coming toward them.
“Where the hell have you been? Decker is pissed off,” said the first guard as he came toward them.
Winters placed his right hand on Elliott’s shoulder pushing him to the side, as he stepped forward and shoved his knife into the guard’s stomach, withdrawing and stabbing him again. The guard yelped, dropped his rifle, and clenched his stomach as he collapsed to the pavement.
The sound gave the second guard pause and he raised the AR to his shoulder. He slow-walked toward the front of the truck.
Nate jumped down with a knife in hand and hit the ground running. He raced up behind him and grabbed the collar of his jacket. He pulled the guard back while swinging the blade around stabbing him in the stomach. He caught him falling to the ground and dragged the limp body to the other side of the truck. He looked at Winters and Elliott with a hint of a smile curling around the edges of his lips. Nate moved to the back of the vehicles, some of the guys jumped out and ran toward the windowless building to wait for Elliott and Winters.
“What now?” Elliott asked.
With an intense voice Winters said, “We go in like we own the place.”
“Heck fire, I was just here this morning, won’t they recognize us?” asked Elliott in a nervous tone.
“It won't matter. You know he’s just sitting behind his desk.”
Elliott agreed.
“I’ll go first,” said Winters. “You guys stay here and cover the entrance.”
Elliott pulled the door open for Winters and followed him inside. Decker sat behind his desk. Elliott and Winters strolled into the office and pointed their guns at Decker, who looked up and froze.
Winters gestured for Elliott to cover the hallway door. He turned his attention back to Decker.
“Why?” asked Winters.
“Why what?” responded Decker.
“Kill the volunteers. Why?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied a nervous Decker.
“Yes, you do. It’s written all over your face,” said Winters.
Decker shrugged and then smirked. “So, you’re the one who escaped yesterday, huh? Well, lucky you.”
Winters raised his gun higher and closer to Decker. “Why?”
“For the money of course,” said Decker.
The answer infuriated Winters and his anger so clouded his mind it diverted his attention from Decker who calmly reached under his desk for his gun. In one quick motion, Decker pulled out a small Beretta .380.
The movement didn’t register right away and took Winters a split second before he fired his gun, striking Decker in the chest. The impact hurled him and his chair against the wall, where the man drew his last breath.
Someone from the back of the building yelled out. Elliott flattened himself up against the wall and waited. The man stepped through the doorway and saw Decker in his chair. He turned to Winters while reaching for his sidearm but was too late.
Elliott took aim and fired. The man's head exploded in a shower of blood, bone and flesh before collapsing to the ground.
The corpse on the ground represented Elliott’s first kill. He examined him on the floor, lying in an ever-widening dark red pool of blood. Elliott gave Winters an uneasy glance. Winters responded with an encouraging nod understanding the surreal moment.
Neither spoke as some of the volunteers rushed in. Several ran to secure the back of the building.
Nate walked over to where Decker still lay in his chair. “Not much of a bad-ass now, are you?”
Winters grabbed the chair and wheeled Decker out into the hallway. He noticed Elliott had not spoken yet and asked him if he would go and see if any of the neighbors could tell them anything.
Everyone followed Elliott outside, while Nate and Winters moved over to the desk, which had files stacked on top of each other. They set their guns on the table, grabbed chairs and started digging through the paperwork.
“Don’t really see anything here, mostly receipts and truck log records,” Nate said.
“It’s got to be here somewhere.”
Winters opened the desk drawers and looked through the files. A minute passed before he found the folder with the names of the recruits.
“There’s hundreds of them,” said Winters thumbing through the pages.
He handed some to Nate. The two men poured over the names, each recognizing some. Winters’ heart sank when he saw his name and those of his friends. While reading them, he felt the urge to grab the papers and take off running. He shut the folder.
Winters found a business card taped on the wall above the desk phone. He tore it
off and read the name aloud.
“Colonel Nunn United States Army, Commander of the Midwest Region.”
“Colonel Nunn? Never heard of him,” said Nate.
“Neither have I.”
They stopped sifting through the files when Elliott returned to the office.
“Everything’s secure, some townspeople were asking questions,” said Elliott.
“What did you tell them?” asked Winters.
“I told them the truth.”
“Did they know anything?”
“No, and none of them liked Decker. I guess he strutted around like he owned the place.”
“How many people are still in town?”
“Not many and after what’s happened here, they’re leaving as we speak. Can’t say I blame 'em. Who knows who might show up and ask questions,” said Elliott.
Winters thought the same thing.
The three of them went out to the parking lot, which was full of vehicles abandoned by the volunteers who had come to serve. Winters’ own beat up car sat by the street. He thought about getting in and taking off.
A couple of pickups heading toward them interrupted his thoughts. The tension elevated as the men looked at one another and then started to scatter in different directions. Everyone took cover as the vehicles drove in.
They waited anxiously as the two pickups pulled up. Both were loaded with men. The lead vehicle stopped when the driver noticed the two bodies lying near the transport trucks. Winters saw the hesitation in their eyes. They were volunteers.
Winters and Elliott both walked toward them. As they approached, some of the guys jumped out of the back.
“What’s going on here?” asked one of them. “Isn’t this where the volunteers are supposed to go?”
“It is. We’re volunteers like you.” He pointed to the two dead guys on the ground. “And these scumbags were here to kill us.”
They started murmuring and seemed unsure of the story. One of them recognized Elliott.
“Elliott.”
Elliott turned to the voice. “Oh hey, Scar, how the heck are ya?”
“Great, I think. What’s going on here?”