Forsaking Home (The Survivalist Series)

by A. American

  He quickly dismounted and stepped up to the group. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “You Tabor?” Sheffield asked.

  “No, I’m his deputy commander, Ed Mooreland.”

  Sheffield took a step forward. “I’m Captain Sheffield. I need to speak with Tabor immediately.”

  Ed, just like the men at the gate, was unsure of how to respond. “Uh, what’s this in reference to?”

  Sheffield looked at the black-clad men beside Ed. “It’s a private security matter of utmost urgency.”

  Ed looked around nervously. “Uh, all right, you guys follow me in. Just leave the rest of your people here.”

  Sheffield nodded and they got back in the Hummer. Ted was up in the turret and got a bird’s-eye view of the camp as they drove through. They drew a number of looks from the surprised camp staff, who stopped and gawked at the passing truck.

  Ted surveyed the camp as they passed through it, paying particular attention to the detainees. Groups of detainees were doing physical labor, everything from filling sandbags to erecting additional tents. The scene was always the same: black-clad men watching over them with guns at their side. Hu, field boss, Ted thought. As they passed through, the detainees glanced at the vehicle sideways, not rising from their toil. The DHS troopers, on the other hand, gawked, pointing and gesturing amongst themselves.

  “Well, we’re in,” Livingston muttered.

  “Yeah, went better than I thought,” Sheffield said.

  “Remember, Captain, just like we discussed: these guys are clueless for the most part. If we convince Tabor, the rest will fall in line,” Sarge said.

  “Right. Have you noticed all the people working?” Sheffield asked.

  “Yeah, seems like everyone’s busy,” Livingston replied.

  “Yeah, they’re busy all right. Hard not to be when there’s a man with a gun standing over you,” Sarge remarked.

  Sheffield looked out the window. “I noticed that every group has more than one guard standing over them.”

  “You think those folks are out there working like that by choice? Did you see the water jugs?” Sarge asked.

  “And a cup tied to it. I’m sure they’re having to ask for a drink of water. Probably gotta ask for permission to piss too,” Sarge said.

  “That just ain’t right. Grown men having to ask for permission to take a piss,” Livingston said.

  “Or women.” Sarge waved a hand at the window. “I’ve seen plenty women out there working as well.”

  “I understand now why this needs to be done. There is no liberty. What they’re doing here is obviously a forced labor situation. I can’t even imagine what the rest of their day-to-day is like,” Sheffield said.

  “Well, if all goes well, soon we’ll find out,” Sarge said.

  The ATV stopped in front of a line of shipping containers converted into offices. Ed climbed off and waited as Sarge and his crew exited the Hummer. He looked at them, wanting to tell them to leave their weapons in the truck, but glanced up at Ted on the SAW and changed his mind.

  Ed stepped up to an office and rapped on the door frame. “Hey, Chuck, you need to come out here.”

  Tabor looked up from the reports he was reading on his desk. “What is it, Ed? I’m busy.”

  “No, you really need to come to the conference room,” Ed said, stepping aside so Tabor could see the men in ACU uniforms.

  Tabor practically leapt from his chair and came around his desk.

  “Captain Sheffield, this is Charles Tabor, our camp commander,” Ed said.

  “Mr. Tabor, good to meet you. You got somewhere we can talk in private?” Sheffield said as he offered his hand.

  Tabor shook his hand, uncertain of what was going on. “Uh, sure, over here,” he said, gesturing to the conference room, then looked at Ed with a “WTF” look. Ed shrugged, as he was just as confused by the appearance of the United States Army as Tabor was.

  Sheffield glanced at Sarge, who nodded. They filed in and sat down.

  “What can we do for you, Captain?” Tabor asked.

  “We’ve got intel that indicates there are elements of your security force plotting to overthrow the camp. These elements may be aligned with guerrilla forces outside the camp.” Sheffield delivered the comment exactly as they’d rehearsed.

  Tabor and Ed were clearly shocked by the information and sat in silence.

  “My security force, Captain?” Tabor finally said.

  “Yes, sir,” Sarge said as he unfolded the drawing of the camp. “We captured some individuals and found this on them. Through interrogations, we learned of the plot, but we don’t know how many of your people are involved in the plan.” He slid the drawing across the table to Tabor.

  Tabor picked it up and he and Ed examined it as Sarge continued, “As you can see, there are facilities noted there that could only come from someone with inside information.”

  Tabor looked at Ed, then laid the drawing on the table. “Captain, you will forgive me for being skeptical. But as you know there are some, how should I put it, issues between the armed forces and the DHS.”

  “I understand that, and I assure you, this is real. Some of us are still patriots. We’re here to help you put this down before it gets out of hand. We’re not sure if this is an attempt on just your camp or if it’s part of a larger plan to take down other camps as well. That’s why we need to identify the actors and interrogate them for additional information,” Sheffield said.

  Inwardly Sarge smiled. Damn fine acting, Captain, damn fine.

  “Have you had any issues with any of your people lately?” Sarge asked, baiting them in to bringing up the three missing people currently being held back at the Guard camp.

  Ed looked over at Tabor. “Might explain those missing personnel.”

  Sarge seized the moment. “You got missing people?”

  “Yeah, we had three go missing recently. They were on the rear gate and just disappeared,” Tabor said.

  “That’s not good. Were there any known issues with them?” Livingston asked.

  “For the most part, no, though we had some behavioral issues with one of them, a woman,” Ed said.

  Sarge fought back a smile again. I knew that bitch was trouble.

  “Then, as you can see, we’re not here by accident,” Sarge said.

  “How big of a threat do you think this is?” Tabor asked.

  “You’ve got several hundred civilians in here, and you’ve also got an armory full of weapons. We do not want those two things to mix. Let’s just say that,” Sheffield said.

  Tabor let out a long breath. “All right, what do you propose we do?”

  “I seriously doubt that there are too many of your people involved in this plot, as it would be hard to keep something like this a secret for long. But we can’t take any chances until we sort out who is and who isn’t a threat. I would suggest that you assemble your security people and have them turn in their weapons. Then we—you and my intel team—will interview them. As they are either cleared or identified as conspirators, they will be either detained or released to return to their duties,” Sheffield said. This was the moment that would determine if the plan would succeed or not, and he could hardly keep from tapping his foot nervously.

  Tabor sat back in his chair. “Who were these people you captured? Where were they caught?”

  “As far as we know they are civilians. One claimed to have escaped from here. He’s the one that had the map. They thought we would assist in their plan and gave the info up freely at first,” Sarge said.

  Tabor looked at Ed. “How many people have gotten out?”

  Ed thought for a minute. “Six, not including the guards.”

  “How’d you bag these folks?” Tabor asked.

  “Like I said, at first they approached us. Once they figured out we weren’t
who they thought we were, they clammed up. But the cat was outta the bag by then, and with a little encouragement, we were able to get more info out of them,” Sarge said.

  Ed smiled. “What sort of encouragement?”

  “I believe the proper term is enhanced interrogation techniques,” Livingston said.

  Ed smiled and looked at Tabor. “They should meet Niigata.” Tabor rolled his eyes.

  “What’s that now?” Sarge asked.

  Tabor waved his hand dismissively. “Back to your prisoners, where are they now?”

  “In a secure location for the moment,” Sheffield said.

  “Why didn’t you bring them here? They could help point out who’s involved.”

  “We thought about that, and will bring them in later. But if we paraded them through here now and the people involved saw them with us we’d lose the element of surprise, making this a hell of a lot harder,” Sarge said.

  “Did they have any ID on them?” Tabor asked.

  Sarge laughed. “No, not like anyone carries a wallet these days.”

  “I’d like to ID the one who said he escaped from here.”

  “If you issue photo IDs to your detainees, when we bring him in you can go through your files and find out who he is. We might be able to connect him to some of the other conspirators that way,” Sarge said.

  Ed looked at Tabor. “We do issue photo IDs. That’d be easy enough to do. We’ll know where he was housed and what details he was on. It might shed some light on the people in here who are in on it.”

  Tabor sat staring at the map. It was obvious he was conflicted. To help make his decision easier, Sarge decided to make another play.

  “Mr. Tabor, part of the plot called for the torture and execution of the camp administration. Now I don’t know how many people that is here, maybe it’s just you and Ed, maybe more. But we take this kind of thing seriously in the armed forces and I suggest you do the same.”

  “Who’s going to take care of security when we call everyone in? These people will take advantage of the situation if given half a chance,” Ed said.

  “We’ll handle that. Our people will take over their positions and run your camp during the vetting process. As your people are cleared, they can return to their posts and our people will pull out. I don’t think it will even be noticed by the majority of your detainees,” Livingston said.

  Ed looked at Tabor. “What are we going to tell them we’re bringing them in for?”

  Tabor was overwhelmed and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you tell them we’re here to inventory weapons? Say we’ve got armorers with us and they will go through them and make sure they’re all up to speed,” Sarge said.

  “That could work. That’d explain why they’re turning in their weapons,” Ed said.

  “We really do have armorers, and they’ll check out the weapons. We can also do an inventory for you to make sure everyone has the correct weapon too.”

  “That’s a good idea. We’ve been meaning to do that, but it’s been quite a trial to figure out how to do that without compromising the safety of the camp,” Tabor said.

  “Sounds like we’re in agreement, then. Can my people come on up?” Sarge asked.

  “Sure,” Tabor said, then looked at Ed. “Go ahead and call the gate. Tell ’em to let them through.”

  “I’ll go call my folks,” Sarge said as he stood up.

  As Sarge headed for the door, he was stopped by Ed. “Hey, First Sergeant, want some coffee?”

  Sarge smiled. “Damn right I do! Let me make this call and I’ll be right back.”

  Ed started to pour him a cup as Sarge stepped out. Ted looked over as Sarge came out. “What’s the word?”

  “It’s showtime,” Sarge said. “Call ’em in, Teddy.”

  “Roger that,” Ted said as he climbed into the turret.

  “I want the last Hummer to stay at the gate. Let me know when they get here. Soon as that’s done, you and Mikey get over to their comm shack and shut it down,” Sarge said quietly as he spun around and headed back inside. Ted gave him a thumbs-up and Sarge headed back in, eager for that cup of coffee.

  • • •

  It was still dark when Aric snuck out to the fence behind the detention facility. He looked around to make sure no one saw him and pulled the small bolt cutters out of his pocket. His plan was to cut the fence at one of the poles, then cut the ties holding the top to the crossbar all the way across to the next pole. He hoped that by loosening the foundations, the Hummer could break through the fence. He snipped the first wire, and it gave with a snap loud enough to wake the dead. He froze where he was and checked around again. At this rate, it was going to take forever.

  The sun was already above the horizon as he finished the second fence. He’d worked up quite a sweat and as he walked back toward the motor pool, a chill crept into him. He quickly put the bolt cutters back and was on his way to his room when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hey, Vonasek, grab your weapons and go to the mess hall. They’re doing an inventory today. Tell everyone you see. I’ve got to go get Cortez and what’s-his-name from the detention center then wake up last night’s shift.” It was Nelson, his supervisor.

  Hearing Cortez’s name, he reacted quickly. “You get the rest of the guys up. I’ll get Cortez for you.”

  Nelson gave him a thumbs-up. “Thanks.”

  It was now or never. With everyone lining up for the inventory, it was the perfect opportunity to enact the plan. He ran into his room and grabbed the pack that was sitting on his bunk and headed back to the motor pool. The place was deserted. He tossed his pack into the truck and went to the locker and began moving supplies. He took all the MREs that were there, as well as a SAW and several cans of ammo. Ammo for the carbine came next, then the first aid bag, sleeping bags, and a small tent.

  He went around to the rest of the trucks and pulled the fuel cans off them, tossing them into the back of his truck. The Hummer was filling up fast. Deciding he had enough, he got behind the wheel of the truck, pulled the red tag off the dashboard, and started it, heading for the kitchen.

  He saw Kay inside when he stuck his head through the door. Taking a quick look around to make sure no one was there, he called out, “Kay!” in a loud whisper. When she looked over, he said, “It’s time.” Kay nodded and picked up a small blue duffel bag, quickly making her way outside and into the passenger side of the truck. Neither of them said anything as Aric steered the truck toward the detention center.

  “Hop out here. If this doesn’t work, I don’t want you sitting in this thing if other people show up. Just watch the door. I’ll come out and wave when we’re ready.”

  Kay nodded and got out of the truck. “Good luck, hon,” she whispered.

  • • •

  Fred didn’t pay any attention when the door to the cell block opened. She didn’t even take much notice when her cell door opened. It was what didn’t happen that caught her attention—no jingling keys, no blinding light. Fred opened her eyes and could make out two men standing in the door. One of the men stepped in and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. He led her out of the cell and up to the small desk that sat in the front of the block. The other man threw something at her. She made no attempt to catch it, letting it hit her and fall to the floor. Looking down she saw it was clothes—her clothes. The ones she had on when she arrived at the camp.

  “Put ’em on. No sense in ruining our stuff,” one of them said.

  Fred looked around for a place to change. “Don’t worry about that, just do it here,” the man said.

  Fred had accepted her fate. There was nothing she could do at this point, so the request had little effect on her. She took off the smock and slipped the pants off. She was wearing the underwear and bra issued by the camp and knelt down to pick up her clothes.
r />   “No, no, sweetheart, all of it,” the man said.

  It was then she knew what would happen next. A tear began to roll down her cheek as she pulled the bra over her head.

  “Damn, they look better without anything covering them up,” one of them said.

  As Fred pulled the underwear off one of the men stepped forward, and as they slipped off her foot he grabbed her arm. “No sense in letting something that looks this good go to waste.”

  “Put her on the desk,” the other man said as he unbuckled his belt.

  Thoughts of what happened to Jess flooded through Fred’s mind. This is it, this is how it’s going to end, this can’t be happening, this can’t be real. As one of the men pushed her toward the desk, her mind began to race. How can I get out of here?

  Chapter 18

  I took the first watch after dinner and brought my RWS air rifle out with me, hoping to see a rabbit. I remember when I was young my dad, uncle, and I would hunt them at night with a light. This wasn’t sport hunting—we needed it. There were times those rabbits made a difference. So tonight, I’d use the same tactic to try and bag a bunny.

  I kept the fire low and sat on the top of the picnic table, periodically shining my light around the open area between the cabins and the river. At about ten, I saw the first set of eyes. Raising the rifle while holding the light on it, I looked through the scope. I could clearly see it and centered the crosshairs on one of the eyes and pulled the trigger. The rabbit flipped and hit the ground.

  There are two kinds of rabbits in Florida, cottontail, which I had gotten here, and what we call swamp rabbits. Taking this cottontail back over to the table, I quickly skinned it out and gutted it, saving the entrails for the dogs and tossing the hide into the woods.

  With one in the bag, I was now motivated to find another and started actively looking. Slipping around the perimeter of the camp, I kept close watch on the area where the clearing met the brush. By midnight, I’d bagged two more and decided I’d had enough. I went over and woke up Danny to take his turn and told him about the rabbits.

  “Nice, man,” Danny said looking at the three skinned bunnies lying on the table.