by Doug Ball
“Maybe a handheld, or a cell.”
“I’ll try.”
“Send backup.”
“Thirty minutes away.”
“Crap. Do it anyway.”
A trooper appeared. The LT said, “Put her in a cell and hold her. Search her first.”
He turned to the Sheriff and said, “Let’s go.”
They ran.
Brenda grabbed the former co-worker and dragged her down the hall to a holding cell where she searched her thoroughly before locking her in. Elana lay sniveling on the cold floor, frayed around the edges from the tazing.
Governor’s Officer
“It’s the Mayor of Flagstaff, Governor.”
“I’ll take it.”
She picked up her phone and said sweetly, “Yes, Mr. Mayor. It’s not often I get to hear the sound of your voice. How may I assist you today?” The dripping sarcasm lasted for a moment or two as the Governor listened to the Mayor’s ramblings.
She broke in with, “You tell those students that they will not be allowed to attend any negotiations with the tribes, and if they want their demands presented, tell them to put them in writing and have them delivered to my office by 4 PM today. How we deal with the tribes is none of their business. Their business is to get a good education so they can run for Governor and make the changes they want after they win the election. If they do not get back to their studies and get passing grades, they will lose not their grants and loans along with their enrollment in a state run school. Remind them Arizona is not accepting funds from the Federal Government anymore and that means support for the Universities or student Federal grants and loans. Tell them that next semester could be a bit difficult. Oh yes, Mr. Mayor, you may want to look at your own community, there may be a war in the streets soon. How are you going to deal with that? Goodbye.”
She put the phone in its cradle none too gently and walked to the door. “Josie, call a news conference for 1 PM here and call Oscar Whiting and tell him to run his story when he wants.”
“Yes, Governor.” She was really getting to like this job, there was never a dull moment.
21
I-40
Canyon Diablo Bridge
10:15 AM
“Take the Two Guns exit and turn right. You wanna end up facing the archway with the ‘Mountain Lions’ sign.”
“I think not. There’s a car beyond that old building. If we take that exit we’ll be sitting ducks. How about we drive past and then do a u-turn once we’re out of sight and come back, taking the exit on the other side and then pretend to drain our bladders?”
“Okay, you win. Let’s go with that plan. There is a way under the bridge to this side. I found it one time trying to catch a dog that got away from some folks in a motorhome. We chased that mutt for hours until it got tired and ran into the home and went to sleep on the couch.”
“Well, the dog had fun.”
“Shut up. We’re outta sight of the buildings, make that u-ey.
Tan whipped the truck through the median raising a cloud of dust and throwing rocks at the semi passing on his right. The truck fish-tailed as it hit the westbound pavement. Tan quickly brought it under total control and brought his speed up. Within moments, he was slowing and turning on the turn signal for the exit.
Robert grabbed his rifle from the rack behind the seat and eased out the door, walked to the rear of the truck, and set the rifle against the side of the truck bed. He got a good look around as he really drained his bladder. “Who says coke is the pause that refreshes? This is it, Tan, this is it.
Tan moved to the front of the truck and followed suit. “Hey, I see your trail down into the canyon and under the bridge. Looks a bit scary with the rocks and all.”
“It is. It’s doable if you take it easy. I never noticed the culvert over here. Looks like I can get to it without being seen from the other side. How about I go that way and you head under the bridge. I’ll have to crawl, so don’t get too far ahead of me.”
“Sounds good. Just realized the folks in that car, or in the old buildings, can’t see us here.”
“Yeah. Wonder who’s over there?”
“We treat this like an ambush, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Let’s move, if you’re done.”
“Take off. When you get to the culvert, I’ll start.”
Tan watched his friend until he disappeared in the culvert. The trail under the bridge was not as bad as it first looked. He moved cautiously under the west bound lanes trying to hear above the roar of trucks and cars overhead. Placing his hand on the concrete abutment, he could feel the vibrations of the traffic going over his head. He searched the underside of the bridge for anything suspicious and saw nothing until he moved into the sunlight again between the two spans. On the side of the east bound abutment and support was a box the size of a large suit case.
A piece of paper fluttering in the breeze caught his eye. It was attached to the box with a light cord of some kind. As he approached it he could see print on the paper. A siren blared in the distance getting louder as he approached the paper. It read, “If you are reading this, I can push the button and you will be blown to bits along with these bridges.”
“I’m dead,” he said out loud.
Nothing happened.
The rumble of traffic over the bridges was punctuated by three shots fired in rapid succession followed immediately by three more. He knew that Robert had been taught to fire two at a time, not three. Robert was either in trouble, or someone was else was shooting.
Robert had duck walked under the west bound traffic and then crawled under the eastbound. Following the wash he reached the canyon. Having no cover to move in behind he dropped off the edge just far enough to hide and slowly worked his way toward the old tourist trap buildings of Two Guns, Arizona.
It always amazed him when he looked at this place. A booming tourist trap during the old Route 66 days before I-40, it had been built with native rock, building after building of native rock, most of it without much mortar. Robert stuck his head up above the rim and saw the old animal pens where the tourists could see snakes, rabbits, mountain lions, bobcats, and a wide assortment of birds, big and little. He saw nothing of any people. Taking a chance, he stuck his head up. Nothing. All of him slowly emerged from the canyon onto the zoo courtyard. Nothing.
He walked through the arch slowly, cautiously to the car. The engine was running. In the side view mirror he saw one person sitting behind the wheel. He tapped on the back window with his rifle butt. Nothing. Keeping his eye on the mirror, he moved alongside the car until he could see the driver. It was a manikin, all made up and topped with a black wig.
The next few minutes he spent checking out all the buildings still standing and behind a few partial walls. Nothing. He fired three shots, waited, and fired three more. Nothing. He reloaded.
The sound of a siren overcame the rumble of traffic. Tan stuck his head up next to a cistern on the edge of the canyon. The cistern had a few inches of water in it from the rains. Taking a few more steps up the incline, Robert came into view standing next to the end of the main building.
The LT and Sheriff rolled into the patch of dirt in front of the arch with ‘Mountain Lions’ on it and slid to a halt kicking up a dust cloud. Both jumped out and took cover behind the doors of the Sheriff’s vehicle. Robert started laughing. Tan joined in.
The Sheriff yelled, “It’s an ambush, watch out. Damned stenographer called a friend and told them you were coming.”
“Ain’t nobody here but us chickens, boss,” Tan said through his laughter. “I think they got what they wanted, a diversion. From what, to what, I don’t know, but they got it.”
Robert said, “Don’t touch the car, it could be booby trapped.”
“There’s a box on the eastbound abutment that bears checking out.”
The LT called in for the bomb squad.
Two hours later the car was cleared and the old tool box was deemed safe. How and why the car was set u
p and the tool box was affixed to the abutment was a puzzle. “What did they divert us from?” asked the LT. “What?”
“Probably nothing. Just making us run around in circles.”
The car was registered to the gal from the Stoneman Lake exit wreck with a different address on the registration than the one on her driver’s license. It, too, was a phony.
Arizona Republic Offices
11:00 AM
“Crazy Man, get me the copy on that story we put a hold on. We’ve been freed. The word is out and we need everything you even suspect to catch the networks with their collective pants down on this one.”
Governor’s Conference Room
1:00 PM
“If you will all have a seat, we can get started,” Josie said with authority. She loved it.
The twenty-one reporters, eight cameras, a bunch of lights, and one Governor moved into position, the press conference dance had begun. Not many of the reporters sat back in their chairs. This excitement level was high and the Governor was smiling her here-it-comes smile. A hush slammed through the room as the Governor stepped behind the podium with a single piece of paper in her hand.
“You all got a copy of my talking points?” She lifted her single page in the air.
One reporter raised his hand and said, “I missed out somehow, Governor.”
Josie filled his hand.
“Folks, members of the Native American Tribes of Arizona will soon be rising up against lawful government, not in support of the Federal Government, but to declare their own independence. We know when. Mexico has declared war on Arizona, not the United States, just Arizona. Illegals are still leaving or are being escorted out of the state. Our Guard units, selected Militias, and Veterans have joined forces for the protection of our borders, the southern one in particular. Veteran law enforcement officers, fire fighters, and other emergency responders are bolstering our emergency services. Three hundred acres are fenced, housing materials set in place, food on the premises, and better than two hundred drug offenders are on site in Druggersville. Two thousand more acres are being prepped and fenced. Six hundred individuals have chosen rehab and are in care as we speak. Our prison farms and factories are beginning to function without a serious hitch. Courts are going full blast, some twenty-four hours a day under the new guidelines, in order to catch up. Our schools and colleges are preparing for a new year under the new ideas given them. In all areas of education from pre-school thru grad work we feel we are leading the way to new, improved methodologies where the student’s abilities and desires are matched with the needs of employers.” She took a deep breath and let her smile widen. We are also reducing the need for many state government workers. Many are being transferred to private sector jobs where they can make more money and be truly challenged in their work.
“All in all, we are saving money beyond our wildest dreams, which in turn means lower taxes and more dollars in the pocket of the people.”
“The Federal government has refused to assist us in the war with Mexico. Our neighbors to the east are assisting to some extent along their southern borders. California has refused to assist in any way and the southern border crossings into California look like a St. Patrick’s Day parade, only in brown. Utah and Nevada are assisting us in border control on the north. New Mexico is assisting to the east.
“The good news is that unemployment is down to a real three percent. Welfare costs are twenty percent of previous costs, with that cost still going down as we continue to review cases and real needs. Textbook orders from out of state publishers are way down for our elementary schools and you have to know that the publishers are whining. Our roads, parks, playgrounds, government properties, and schools have never looked better.
“Twenty-nine disgruntled folks are picketing my office and the Capitol as I speak, and they are doing it peacefully as is their right. There were over 200 protestors last week.
“I am asking the Legislature to make one rule change in the way they do business. Beginning next Monday, I want them to allow no bill to be voted on until it has 30 days exposure to the legislators and the public in final form, online and in print. Even Thomas Jefferson was not happy that the Constitution did not have a clause demanding a review period so all interested parties could check out proposed legislation before it went to a vote. We wouldn’t have many of our expensive programs today if that rule were in effect in Washington and in our state legislature. Think of the Healthcare bill and all the cost increases they are still finding in those many pages of unread law.
“I want to thank and congratulate the people of this great State of Arizona for their cooperation.
“I am finished. Are there any questions?”
Hands shot up and cries of, “Governor,” rang throughout the room.
The Southern Border
“You know, Major, I don’t think this guy knows anything, so I’ll take him out back and get rid of him for you,” offered the Command Sergeant Major. “Don’t want you getting your hands dirty on this scumbag.”
The Major turned his back and left the tent.
“Come on, Lieutenant. Your date with destiny is here.” The CSM grabbed the young Mexican officer’s collar and dragged him to the door, never giving him a chance to get his feet under him. “I’ll try to make it painless.” Completely around the tent and into the rocks behind the CSM continued to jerk and drag the man.
“You’ll be free of this torment in a moment, sir.” The CSM threw the man to the ground planting a foot on his hip to hold him down and then drew his sidearm, pointing it at the prisoner’s head.
“We were to attack at first light tomorrow. Do not kill me,” the Lieutenant stated of his own free will, more or less.
“All units?”
“Si. All units along the entire border. You Americanos will go down under the power of our army.”
“Don’t think so, Pancho. Excuse me, Lieutenant Pancho.” The CSM put his sidearm away. “How many troops you got along the border? If your army was able to overrun us it would have been able to take down the cartels. You failed there.”
“We did not try to stop the cartels. We needed the money they bring back to our country from the drugs they sell in your country. We have fifty thousand men standing against you. All are trained and experienced combat veterans. Our peon troops are standing guard around the country to allow our best to come against your imitation army men.”
“We’ll see about that.” The CSM gave the man a swift kick in the butt to put the period at the end of the discussion.
The CSM yelled, “Sergeant Watson, bring your detail around.”
“On our way.” Six men moved from behind the rocks surrounding the CSM’s position.
“Take the Lieutenant to the stockade with the rest of the POWs. Let them know he squealed.”
“You are a mean man, Sergeant Major, a mean man, but I’ll be more than happy to do as you command.” He bent over and jerked the man up by his collar. “Let’s go, Pancho,” as he dragged the man toward the compound.
22
17 June
Little Horn Mountains, Yuma County
1:30 PM
The Yuma County Sheriff’s vehicle pulled up to a motorhome parked a few yards off the dirt track. No one got out to greet him. He called out, “Hey, anybody home.” There was no response. He called it in along with his location which could better be seen on the GPS fed screen in dispatch.
He hated the GPS attached to his unit. Every time he stopped for two minutes to pee out here in the sticks, dispatch was calling to confirm all was well. At this point in his work day he didn’t want any hassles from dispatch, the day had been one long hassle. The only reason he was out here this far away from anything was a hassle, a wild goose chase to find a lost old lady. She wasn’t lost; she knew right where she was, hiding from her kids. Even at 74 she was digging and scraping for the rocks and minerals that would put extra bucks in her purse. Thanks to her, he was way out in the sticks and found the apparently a
bandoned motorhome.
He called out again. No response again.
He left the vehicle, walking around the rear of the motorhome. All the tracks he found were windblown and indistinct except for the trail of a lizard in the sand. He banged on the door. No response. No noise. He continued to walk around the RV. Nothing. He looked in the windshield to find a curtain in the way. The driver’s door was locked. The passenger door was locked. The back door opened. A blast of heat hit him in the face and assaulted his sense of smell. The hot, rancid smell of death, the smell of fecal material, urine, rot, and a swarm of flies attacked him.
“No hot dinner tonight. I’ll be here for hours. It’ll take two hours for the first units to arrive. They ain’t gonna send troops out in a chopper for a corpse,” he mumbled to himself as he put on the latex free gloves from his back pocket. He climbed into the RV without touching any more handles or hand holds than he absolutely had to.
An obviously dead man laid half in and half out of the bathroom door. His head lying on a piece of carpet drowned in blood. At least half his head was there in the crusted pool of dark reddish brown blood. The other half was splattered all over the bathroom walls, sink, cabinet, and john. He walked in far enough to determine there were no more victims in the bathroom or the rest of the RV.
“10Charles22. . .”
Dispatch identified the RV as belonging to a Randall Johnston who was wanted for questioning concerning another death in Coconino County.
Two hours later he was still waiting after taking pictures of the RV from all angles and the victim in situ. He was sitting on the hood of his unit eating the lunch he had not had a chance to eat when a cloud of dust appeared on the horizon to the south. It looked as if it was headed his way.
“Another thirty minutes before it gets here, at least,” he said to the lizard sitting quietly in the shade of his unit waiting for a fly to land within reach. Deputy Rawls had thrown a few crumbs his direction to draw flies just to watch the lizard snag them out of the air with his fantastic tongue. “Wish I was hunting right now,” the tired Deputy added.