by Jack Hunt
“How are you going to control this, Frank?” John said, unconvinced by his brother’s ideas.
“Just like I’ve controlled our group. One at a time.”
“You’re letting in too many. They could be a threat.”
“They could, however, without weapons they’re just lions without teeth.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said. Relax, brother. It’s early days. There are going to be some growing pains. I know there will be a few bad apples among the bunch but we’ll weed them out.”
John laughed. “You can’t even weed out whoever is killing our men.”
“Two. That’s all. After today, I don’t think there will be more.”
“And if there is?”
He slapped him on the back and took a puff on his cigar. “Then we’ll handle it. Like we always do.” He blew smoke rings into the air. “Do you remember what you said when I told you we were going to break in here and take over?”
“Yeah, I said you were mad.”
“And look where we are. Standing head and shoulders above them like kings.”
“But for how long?”
“For as long we don’t lose our shit.” He gripped him by the collar. “It’s all a matter of leverage.” He shoved him up against the edge of the watchtower. “It doesn’t take much to push a man over the edge. Right now we need more people. And this is a beautiful sight.”
“And what happens when we fill out this place, but others come wanting in?”
“Then they are going to have one hell of a war on their hands.”
John shook his head. “I don’t know, brother. I don’t like it.”
“You’re not supposed to. How did the founding fathers gain support for the constitution? Huh? How did they rally people around them?”
John said nothing.
“By promising them a bill of rights would be established. We are standing on the precipice of a new age, John. People’s rights have been stripped. Whether that was by North Korea or by their own government, it doesn’t matter. They are desperate, lost and looking for hope. I’m going to give them that, and in return they will give me their support.”
John snorted. “You hope.”
“Of course I do. Without hope, how would we have taken this place? Hope is what keeps us going. It’s what gets people up in the morning. It’s what makes men bleed for you even though they don’t really know what they’re fighting for.”
“And what are we fighting for?”
Frank frowned. “After all this time you don’t know what we are fighting for?”
“I just want to hear you say it.”
“America. Freedom.”
“But you are disarming these people.”
He raised a finger. “No. FEMA is disarming. We are merely holding onto their firearms temporarily until they’re established here. There’s a big difference. It’s FEMA who is ordering people to work for them. These people are all going to willingly work with us. Do you understand? This is not about lording over them, it’s about nurturing and leading and showing them what this great nation can be under true leadership.”
They continued to watch the stream of people fill up the east courtyard. Frank placed a hand on his brother’s shoulders. “Dad would have been proud.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Frank glared at his brother. Over the past few months he’d become concerned for his mental well-being. He was starting to mistrust him. Before he’d been all gung-ho but when it came down to brass tacks, he wasn’t sure he was cut out for the large responsibility that lay before them. This was nothing compared to what he had in mind. He didn’t just have plans to survive, oh no, he wanted to dominate the great state of Texas. He wasn’t greedy but for years, long before the EMP, he had ideas of how he could change the state for the better. Now it was like life was handing it to him on a platter. He sure as hell wasn’t going to screw it up.
Down below several people argued. Frank got on the radio to find out what was going on.
“Report in.”
“We got a group who won’t give up their arms.”
“Don’t let them in. I’ll be down to speak with them.”
“I told you,” John said in a self-assuring manner.
“Watch and learn, brother, watch and learn.”
Frank made his way down and crossed the courtyard. A couple of his men escorted him past the long lines and through a crowd to where three refugees dressed in hunting gear stood looking defiant.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m General Shelby, though you can call me Frank.”
It was all about being personal.
“You work for the government?” one of them piped up.
“Hell no. I have no problem with you guys coming in with those weapons but as you can see what we are offering here is far better than what is outside these walls. So if you wish to be a part of it, you are going to have to either leave them outside the wall or hand them over. Either way you’re getting them back. You decide what you feel more comfortable doing. Tell these gents, and they’ll let you in.”
He cast his glance over the rest. “That goes for all of you.”
Frank turned and walked away knowing that was all that needed to be said. It wasn’t a matter of restricting them but giving them options and letting them know they were in control, or at least giving them that perception.
Chapter 14
Dallas Jones went ballistic, kicking over chairs, swiping bottles off the bar and turning over tables. He swung at one of his men, his fist connecting with bone. Like an unruly child with no control over his emotions, he berated his close circle of friends. Everything had been going perfect that morning. After heading out to the ranch to gather what horses were available, he thought things were looking up. Not only had he gained a vehicle and got that bitch, he was on his way to retrieve a large selection of horses. It would make patrolling the town a hell of a lot easier. Since the lights had gone out they hadn’t been able to snag a reliable means of transportation and with his group growing by the day, it only made sense to find horses. He just didn’t think they would be in his own backyard.
“How the hell did you let them get away?” he bellowed.
Dallas paced back and forth in front of them. Each head hung low. They’d already given him several weak ass excuses. Beyond blaming each other, they didn’t have a valid reason. Now had it been anyone else, he would have let it slide. The three men they’d killed were new to his group — they meant nothing to him but it was one of four that had been murdered earlier by that bitch that made this personal. She’d killed his brother. The kid was only nineteen. No one deserved to die the way she’d ended his life. Oh, he had plans for her. He was going to make her suffer. She would beg for death before he put the final nail in the coffin.
“We’ve got everyone out there searching for them as we speak,” Joel said.
Joel Gonzales had been a good friend of his brother. He’d also taken the news of his brother’s death hard but that didn’t excuse a lapse in judgment.
“I want them found. Block off all the exit roads from Saranac.”
“Already done, Dallas.”
“Good.” He nodded and approached the bar, scooping up a beer and cracking the top off. “Take four of the horses and leave only two men here. I want everyone searching homes, apartments, stores. You stick together in groups of twos.”
“You want them dead or alive?”
“I want her alive. The rest you can kill.”
Joel motioned with his head to the others and they left him alone sipping on beer. He sat at the counter staring into the mirror behind the bar. His hair was shoulder length, and he had a thick beard. His clothes were nothing more than dirty rags. He could barely recognize the man before him. It was a stark contrast. Before the EMP his world had been numbers and spreadsheets. He’d run a successful accounting business on the east side of Saranac. He wore high-end clothes, leased his vehicles and
was careful about the company he kept. His business catered to large companies and corporations, those who had deep pockets and weren’t afraid to spend. He had his hands in the real estate market and owned four apartment blocks in the town. Since the day he’d got into business, he’d had his eyes on retiring by the time he was fifty, and then living off passive income from his rentals and investments. Everything was working like clockwork. When he wasn’t working or prowling cocktail bars for skirt, he’d research ways to increase his wealth through different forms of investments. He funneled money into his 401k, IRA, short-term bonds, fixed-income funds and had hired one of the best investments managers in the state. By all accounts he was living the American Dream.
His jaw clenched at how foolish he’d been.
For all the advice that he’d got to squirrel his money away, he hadn’t thought about what would happen if the bottom dropped out. Now he had nothing, not even the gold he’d acquired was of use to him. Sure he could trade it but what use was that to anyone else? It was fucking pointless. He’d lived his life like a rat on a wheel, running fast, boasting about how much money he’d made and what a lavish lifestyle he led — for what? To be sitting in a dingy bar glancing at himself in a mirror. His parents were dead. His only brother was dead. He pulled the Sig Sauer from his holster and laid it in front of him. He had a good mind to end it right there and then. Even if he did catch this woman and punished her — what then? They were living on borrowed time. The whole damn country was. It was getting more dangerous out there by the day and even though his group offered protection, they couldn’t provide medical care, food, water, or the basics of life. When it came down to it, these were all that mattered now — that and… family.
He tipped his head back and heaved a heavy sigh, then picked up the handgun and brought it up to his mouth. He stuck it inside and for a few seconds contemplated pulling the trigger. Just squeeze it, you pussy! All the pain will be over. No more worry. No more problems.
Right then the bell above the door let out a shrill as Joel returned.
“Oh, um…”
Dallas withdrew the gun from his mouth and glanced at him.
“What is it?”
“Ah, nothing, I was just going to get the keys to the Jeep from you.”
He fished into his pocket and tossed them. “And Joel. Don’t you say a word to anyone.”
“Of course not. Look, I know how you feel.”
“No you don’t. Now get out of here.”
Joel backed out closing the door behind him.
Back in Texas, under the cover of night, Ryan Hayes extracted the knife from the throat of one of the militia. He’d killed another three that evening right underneath their noses and he had no plans to stop. By the time morning came, Shelby would be bouncing off the walls in anger. He had no sympathy for these men. Some were probably good guys who just got suckered into Shelby’s three percenters jargon. Freedom. The American Way. Beat your chest and sleep with your gun type of bullshit. It was all egotistical crap spewed from the mouths of guys who hadn’t grown up. They were hypocrites. Did they think of America when they fired rounds into his father? No. All they cared about was getting inside these walls and controlling the masses. It was all smoke and mirrors. Even as he watched the new influx of refugees, he knew what kind of game Shelby was playing. He was leading them by the nose with promises of a new tomorrow. A land filled with milk and honey. Soon he would start spewing scriptures and demanding everyone to lend an ear and gather around. In his mind he was no different than David Koresh. A lunatic bent on brainwashing everyone and creating a cult following who would drop and give him twenty whenever he liked.
Well, it wasn’t going to happen, at least not if he had any say in the matter. Ryan was going to be the fly in the ointment and make him regret ever killing his father. As he stepped back from the guy he’d dragged into the shadows just outside the athletic facilities, a military air raid siren screamed loudly. Harlan had obtained several prior to closing the gates in anticipation of an attack. It hadn’t been much use the night Shelby showed up. Now its ear-piercing scream rang out as floodlights lit up the grounds. Panic rose in his chest. Ryan slipped the knife back into its sheath and tried to return without being seen. Already he could see Shelby’s men driving everyone out of the bunkers. Over the sound of a loud megaphone, Shelby bellowed.
“You have five minutes to get outside now!”
He hadn’t anticipated this.
Ryan hurried around trees hoping to make it to the phase 1 bunkers. That was not where his room was. Even if he made it inside without being seen, he would still have to crawl back through the vents to the phase 3 bunkers and then wipe off the camo face paint. He crouched down watching people running, some of the women were crying as the militia manhandled them. Then he spotted his moment to make a break for it. Hurrying back to the bunker he slipped inside and located one of the vents, he yanked it off and crawled inside. Sweat trickled down his face in the humid heat. On his hands and knees he scrambled through the steel maze, his heart racing, knowing full well he wasn’t going to make it back in time.
By the time he reached his room, the door was already open. Soldiers had been in to find him. Shit! The jig was up. They would soon know it was him and he couldn’t even lie and say he was sleeping. Ryan pushed out the vent and dropped down quietly. He could still hear the faint sound of Shelby bellowing outside. Moving at breakneck speed he pulled out the wipes and removed the thick wad of camo paint, then dropped it into a bag. He removed the dark clothing and stashed it above one of the ceiling tiles. Now only wearing a shirt, pants and socks, he hurried out into the empty corridor and made his way outside.
By the time he emerged everyone was on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Rifles were pointed at them and Shelby stood with his arms crossed. Ryan tried to act casual, but all eyes were on him. He joined the end of the line and dropped to his knees. Shelby eyed him suspiciously. Any second now, he thought. He’s going to come over and fire a round into my skull. At least he’d managed to kill five of his men. He glanced down the line searching for his brother Sam. He wasn’t there. Ryan frowned, then he spotted him in the next line. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Someone was out tonight killing more of my men,” Shelby began. “Now, I’ve been more than lenient but tonight it ends.” He paced back and forth, his eyes washing over everyone. Several of the women sobbed quietly. “Don’t you get it? We are trying to help you all. Had we not arrived some other group would have entered and killed you all. We didn’t kill you, and we have been nothing but good toward you.”
“That’s bullshit,” someone said. Ryan looked down the line and watched as Shelby’s brother pulled Timothy Heart out of the group. His wife tried to stop them but was struck in the face with a rifle. That caused even more outrage, but it soon ended as Shelby’s men rushed in and started beating people with batons. It was like watching the beginning of a riot, except these people weren’t rioting; Tim’s closest friends were just trying to protect him.
Tim was dragged in front of Shelby and tossed on his knees.
Shelby crouched down and cupped a hand over his ear.
“You want to run that by me again?”
“I said this is bullshit. You killed our people.”
“Your people?” He laughed and looked over to Harlan. “Seems you really were doing a shit job of leading these folks. Who else wants to act like they’re in charge?” His eyes darted to Ryan before looking back at Tim.
“You people really are as dumb as you look. You bought into Harlan’s spiel hook, line and sinker not realizing that it doesn’t matter if you hide behind walls — your defense is only good as those guarding it. You did a shit job of protecting this property when we arrived. We proved that. Now we could have killed all of you but we didn’t.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Yes, we killed some of you.”
“What?” a woman piped up. She was new to the compound. And by the expressions on the faces
of those who’d arrived that evening, they hadn’t been made aware of this.
“It has no bearing on your survival here.” Shelby rose to his feet. “You came to us willingly. We opened our doors. None of you had to enter. And since arriving, have we not given you a warm bed, warm food? And have you not appreciated the security that my men provide?”
He waited for an answer but no one replied.
Shelby turned his attention back to Timothy.
“So yes, we killed some of you in order to show you how weak this chain really was. If we hadn’t done it, someone else would have and perhaps they wouldn’t have been so forgiving. Now I have tried to work with you, but you are forcing my hand. I have given you multiple chances to give up the one responsible for killing my men, and how do you repay me? By killing more.” He paused. “Well it ends tonight!”
“Just kill me and get it over with, I’m growing tired of listening to your shit!” Timothy said. Shelby walked over and crouched down.
“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. No, you’ve already done that to yourself. But you are going to suffer. There will be different levels of suffering, depending on the gravity of your crimes.” He turned to his brother. “Take him to the sweatbox.”
“What?” Tim asked. Two hulking men grabbed an arm and dragged Tim away as his wife protested. Ryan wasn’t aware of any sweatboxes. They were often used out in the Middle East as an extreme form of solitary confinement and torture. Using the humidity of arid regions, the sweatbox would dehydrate a person, cause heat exhaustion and even lead to death depending on how long someone was kept inside.