No Sanctuary Box Set: The No Sanctuary Omnibus - Books 1-6

by Mike Kraus

  Linda drew her pistol from her holster and stood over Omar, aiming it with a steady grip at his head. His defiance knew no limits and he spat at her, then groaned and coughed from the effort, trying to crawl away. She put her boot back on his chest and pressed down hard, leaning over to keep the pistol pointed at his forehead.

  “Farhad Omar. Nice to see you again.”

  “Bitch.” He wheezed out the word in between shallow breaths that were growing more painful as she dug her boot deeper into his chest.

  “Oh come on. Surely you can do better than that.” She put more weight on her foot, grunting with satisfaction as pain spread across his face and a faint cracking sound came from his chest. The pistol wavered ever so slightly in her grasp as rage began to build inside of her, borne of years’ worth of frustrations and fruitless pursuits. Her finger began to tighten around the trigger when a shout from behind made her turn.

  “Rollins!” Jackson came out of the front of the barn, rifle slung over his shoulder. “Don’t shoot him!”

  “Why the hell not?!” She turned back to look at Omar.

  “Backup’s just a few minutes out! We need to take him in, Rollins!” Frank hurried over to Jackson’s side and put an arm around the lieutenant, helping him walk over to Linda. “They have a radio setup in the barn and I used it to call the city.” He placed a hand on her back, but she made no motion to lower her weapon. “It’s over.”

  “Over?” She asked.

  “Yes, over. The last of the forces he sent failed. They’re all dead or on the run.” Jackson tried to reach for her arm but she pushed him away, keeping the gun aimed at Omar’s head.

  “You… think that means this is over? No. It’s never over. Not until he’s paid.” Tears of intense anger and sadness were beginning to form in her eyes.

  “It’s over, Linda.” Jackson spoke softly, trying to reason with her. “And now he needs to be taken in so we can get information from him and then put him on trial.”

  “Trial? What trial? The country’s in shambles, Jackson! It’ll be years—decades maybe—before we’re put back together enough to even function, much less have a trial for someone like him.” She looked down at Omar, adjusting the grip on her pistol. “No. We do this now and make sure he doesn’t get to see another sunrise.”

  “If we don’t uphold the law for men like him, then he wins. We are who we are because no matter how bad things get, we still hold to our principles.”

  “Ha.” Frank shook his head. “Been a long time since we acted like that, even before all this.”

  “But,” Jackson shot Frank a look, “we need to do it now. We have to uphold justice, even for him.”

  “Justice right now means a bullet through his head.” Linda growled. “Besides, what does justice matter when he’s already won?”

  “He hasn’t won. Not if you put the gun down.”

  “She’s right, you know. I did win.” Omar’s eyes fluttered open and a thin smile spread across his lips as he looked at Jackson. “I didn’t have to kill everyone. I just had to incite enough terror for you to tear yourselves apart at the seams. It’s been done before, just not to this degree. I didn’t create this apocalypse. You did. You were the fuel. I merely lit the match.”

  “Close your trap.” Linda pushed down harder on his chest and he spasmed, coughing violently under the pressure and pain. “He’s right, though, Jackson.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Jackson still kept his voice level and calm. “You have a choice to do the right thing or the wrong thing right now.”

  “Years, Jackson!” Linda yelled, her voice carrying across the open fields. “I’ve been after him for years! My unit was slaughtered! He’s experimented on countless others and he brought us to our knees! And now you want me to let him live?” Her arm wavered more and the pistol swayed back and forth, still aiming in the general direction of Omar’s face.

  “When the darkness is at its thickest and the night has closed in around us… that’s when we need to be the strongest.” Jackson took his hand off of her arm and stared at her, silently pleading with his eyes.

  Linda’s jaw worked furiously as she clenched and unclenched it before finally sighing and looking over at Frank. He was tired—exhausted—but still standing, his rifle in one hand while he supported Jackson with the other. His face was one of concern. Not for himself, but for her. The stranger who had become her closest ally, following her blindly based solely on faith and devotion and a desire to make things right. Her friend who had stuck with her even when given every opportunity to leave. Someone who had supported her decisions even when they had been blindly made and was there to help pick up the pieces and keep pushing forward even when she had been unable to do so on her own.

  In the distance she could hear the sound of Humvees and helicopters closing in; the backup that Jackson had spoken of. Linda looked at Frank and felt her tension, fear, jitteriness and years of pent-up frustration disappear. The corners of her mouth began to curl as she remembered the first time she had seen him and wondered what his angle was and how he would try to take advantage of her and how, in the end, he had been one of her fiercest allies. She smiled at him as her arm suddenly steadied, the barrel still trained on the face of the man she had spent far too much of her life hunting down.

  “So, Frank. What do you think we should do?”

  Epilogue

  Life is fragile. Whether it’s human life or the complex machinations of a society that relies on complex interdependence, even the smallest things can turn it upside down. Life is also resilient. Call it the human spirit, the will to go on or whatever you want, but life is resilient. From the organisms that live at the bottom of the ocean as they feed off of volcanic vents to the child in a hospital who fights for survival, life is resilient and strong.

  “Got the ice machine working. It still needs some work, but this should cool you off.”

  Frank Richards pulled a checkered cloth from his back pocket and wiped it across his brow and short-cropped hair. He smiled as Linda walked up to him holding a pair of tall plastic cups that were already dripping with condensation. The weather was hot—brutally so—but it wouldn’t be long before it turned cold in the fall and winter.

  One more heave of the maul split another piece of future firewood and Frank dropped the tool to the ground as he gratefully accepted one of the drinks. The water was cold, with small ice cubes floating at the surface, something he hadn’t seen in many, many months. “I can’t believe you got it working.”

  “Took a bit of cannibalizing a few other things, but it was worth it.”

  “Absolutely.”

  They both drank in silence as they looked out across the fields and woods that had grown from a strange environment to one that was familiar, safe and comforting. The property was small, with a modest-sized home nestled in the trees and a fertile field large enough for farming out in front and another house far on the other side of the field. Out behind the house, near where the neatly trimmed grass turned into overgrown clumps at the edge of the woods, sat a small plot surrounded by a short fence. Two small slabs of stone sat inside the plot, and around each were the beginnings of a pair of rose plants that had been freshly watered and fertilized.

  A tractor slowly wove its way through the field, turning up soil for new plantings and a figure inside waved as he saw Frank and Linda watching. Linda raised her glass and pantomimed drinking with her other hand, and the figure shook his head in response. “Your dad still planning on doing the planting next week?”

  “Last I heard, yeah.” Frank crunched on the last of the cubes, delighting in the pain they caused his teeth. “I forgot to ask this morning but they’re going to come over and help out with the barn roof tomorrow so I’ll double check then.”

  “Thank goodness. It’ll be nice to store some things out there without the rain ruining it all.” Linda held out her hand, a narrow gold band on one finger, and Frank passed over his empty cup. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be back w
ith the trailer to start loading this all up.”

  “You got it. Take your time.” Frank smiled and wiped his brow again as Linda turned and walked away, her ponytail bouncing with each step. He watched her all the way back to the house where she took the steps up two at a time and went back inside. A sense of refreshment—and not just from the water—surged through him and he hefted the maul, stroking the edge of the blade before swinging it in a wide arc, letting the weight of the head do most of the work on the next piece of wood.

  ***

  Two hours later, as the sun was growing high in the sky, the pair were still hard at work. Wide-brimmed hats were on their heads to shield them from the heat as they stacked the split wood onto a long trailer, ready to be transported into the barn for storage. A light breeze had manifested, offering both a welcome relief from the heat as well as a mask against the distant sound of an incoming aircraft.

  Twin blades spun in a flurry, pulling the silver V-22 Osprey through the air at over three hundred miles per hour. The craft soared low over the Texas plains and hills, banking to follow the curve of the ground. Inside, hunched over a map, a man dressed in Army ACUs shook his head as he spoke loudly into his headset.

  “Are you sure this is where they are?”

  “Of course I’m sure.” The woman answering him was dressed in a casual pantsuit and her eyebrow arched in amusement. “You having trouble there, Major?”

  “No ma’am, just… a little lost.”

  “Ma’am, is that it?” The pilot tilted the aircraft and pointed to a pair of houses below.

  “That’s it. Bring us around and set us down.” The woman allowed a slight smile to escape. “And make it look fancy, if you could. I’ve got an old friend down there who’ll appreciate it.”

  “You’ve got it, ma’am. Better strap in tight.”

  On the ground, Frank and Linda stopped loading firewood into the trailer and looked up to the sky, watching the craft circle loudly around the house. It came in low on the final turn and the rotors transformed, shifting to tilt the blades from a vertical position to a horizontal one, effectively turning the craft into a lumbering, twin-rotor helicopter. Finicky to control at best, the craft tried to buck and twist in every direction but the pilot was more than a professional and he controlled his craft with seasoned expertise, bringing it down just a few hundred feet from the house and letting it coast to a stop while the engines wound down.

  Clouds of dust swirled in the air as the dry ground surrendered in the face of the intensity of the blades, but Frank and Linda both walked toward the craft as it rolled to a halt, shielding their mouths and noses with cloths. “Who on earth is this?” Frank kept his eyes locked on the craft, resisting the urge to reach for the revolver he had strapped to his upper leg.

  “Are you kidding?” Linda dropped the cloth from her face and immediately coughed before grinning with delight. “Who else could it be?”

  The back ramp of the Osprey slowly lowered as the pair walked closer, revealing two figures standing side by side at the back of the craft. They began walking forward just as the ramp hit the ground with a soft thud and Frank shook his head and raised his hands as he called out to the pair standing in front of him and Linda.

  “Nope! Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want any!”

  Linda backhanded him in the stomach and he choked on a laugh as she jogged forward, wrapping her sweat-stained arms around Sarah Callahan. Sarah returned the greeting, breaking from her usual professional demeanor to smile and laugh at the sight and embrace of her friend.

  Frank, meanwhile, walked forward and stuck out his hand. “Lieutenant? How’s it—wait. Major? Major Jackson now, is it?”

  Jackson couldn’t repress a smile as he shook Frank’s hand and pulled him into an embrace. “Richards. You’re looking good for being an old farmhand.”

  Frank chuckled, his eyes sparkling with happiness at the sight of Sarah and Jackson. “Hey, I went from accountant to truck driver to terrorist killer. I’m enjoying the off-time.”

  “Mhm.” Sarah walked over to Frank who ignored her proffered handshake and went straight for a hug while Jackson and Linda embraced as well. When the greetings were settled, Sarah spoke.

  “Are you sure you’re enjoying it?” The question immediately set off alarm bells in Linda’s head and she crossed her arms.

  “Sarah.”

  “Mhm?”

  “Why did you two fly all the way out here? You could have called, you know.”

  “We could have, yes.” Sarah raised an eyebrow. “If you had phone service. Which you don’t. And your satellite phone goes directly to voicemail, oddly enough.” She ran her tongue over her teeth as she glanced at Frank. “And your parents, who have phone service, always seem to not know who either of you are when we try calling them.”

  Frank and Linda looked at each other, sharing a mischievous smile. “Eh,” Frank shrugged, “we like our privacy.”

  “So I see.” The faintest shadow of a smile was back.

  “All right, Sarah.” Linda took a step closer to Frank. “What’s this all about? And why are you here with Jackson?”

  “DOD assigned him to me at my request.”

  “I’m her errand boy.” Jackson replied with a grin. “We’re working on reconstruction efforts, passing off law enforcement work back to local officials, gathering evidence of the whole plot.”

  “You’re still gathering evidence?” Linda’s eyes widened. “How’s that possible?”

  “Omar turned a lot of people, including those in senior positions.” Sarah reached into the bag on her shoulder and retrieved a thick manila file folder. “And that’s why we’re here.”

  Jackson took the folder and handed it over to Linda, who immediately handed it over to Frank. He cracked it open and they both looked at it while Jackson spoke. “We’re pretty sure that we’ve got nearly all of his accomplices and the people that he’s turned rounded up. Trials are starting in three months and the government would like for you,” he gestured at Linda, “to act as a key witness. Frank, you’d also be helping with some testimony given how closely you worked with Linda after the event occurred.”

  Linda opened her mouth to respond, but Sarah cut her off. “I know your first response is going to be a ‘no’ but hear me out. We’re obviously not allowed to offer you anything in exchange for your testimony, but as your actions—and yours, Frank—have come to the attention of those higher up the food chain, they’ve authorized me to offer you a few things as a thank you for what you did to stop Omar before he could detonate the bombs.”

  “Without you two,” Jackson interjected, “there would be nothing left.”

  “What kind of ‘thank you’ are we talking about here?” Frank asked.

  Jackson pulled a few small documents from his breast pocket and passed them over for Frank and Linda to see. “A bank account with the details there has already been created in your names, with that balance applied to it. If you look at the second card you’ll see an address and a satellite picture of some land in Maine and in Tennessee that belonged to—”

  “My parents and I.” Linda spoke softly as she finished his sentence.

  “Yes. Everything’s been taken care of, fixed and upgraded to be self-sufficient at both locations. Both properties are in your names, just like the bank account.”

  “Thank you again for what you did, Jackson.” Linda looked up from the cards with tear-filled eyes, then cast a glance to the small plot with the pair of gravestones behind the house. “You didn’t have to bring them here.”

  “Sarah insisted on it and it was the least we could do. But now we can do more.”

  “So this,” Frank raised an eyebrow, “is what? Some kind of a bribe for her—for our—testimony?”

  “It’s a thank you. From an old friend to another old friend.” Sarah looked at Linda, then over at Frank. “And to a new one.”

  “What if they ask what happened to Omar?” Linda’s eyes were dry, a fire slowly burning i
n them that made them sparkle in the sunlight.

  “You tell them the truth.” Sarah replied. “Nothing more and nothing less. You tell them that a man who slaughtered millions was brought to justice, and anything that happened to him during his capture couldn’t be avoided.”

  Frank wrapped the fingers of his left hand around Linda’s right hand and squeezed as she took a deep breath before responding. She looked Sarah dead in the eye, looking for any hint that the request was anything but genuine and forthright. “Is this legitimate, Sarah?”

  “It is. No strings. No traps. No tricks. I’ll be with you both the entire way. Regardless of your decision, though, the properties and money are yours to keep, along with the thanks of a grateful nation.”

  “I don’t know, Sarah. We’re building a life out here. The country’s doing its own thing but we’re self-sufficient, near Frank’s parents—who, to be fair, are a bit of a pain in the ass but still fantastic.”

  “Hey!” Frank shoved her in the side with his elbow as she laughed. “Be nice!”

  “My parents are resting properly and things…” she looked at Frank and smiled. “Things are good.”

  “Things will still be good, Linda.” Jackson looked at Sarah. “I promise you both that things will still be good. And better. It’ll be a long process, but you’ll be helping to solidify cases and ensure that every single person behind this plot is brought to justice.”

  Linda nodded slowly, then turned and looked at Frank. His hand was still in hers and she rubbed the band on his ring finger, turning it as she considered what Sarah and Jackson had to say. The offer was tempting, but it was one that she couldn’t make on her own.

  “So, Frank.” She asked with a slight smile.

  “Oh no.” He groaned. “Don’t you put this on me, too.”

  The wind picked up again, sending the scent of fresh cut grass, fertilizer, earth and warm sunshine cascading over her face. Linda broke out into a grin as she closed the folder and looked at him, seeing her helper, her equal and her friend standing before her.