“He was untangling a trotline.”
“Thank you, Doug.”
Doug bobbed his head and quickly stood. He took a few steps forward before Kinnick put his hand in the air.
“Doug, wait.” The teenager stopped and his shoulders sagged. “Just one more question.”
“Yeah?” The teenager looked like he wanted to shrink away to nothing.
“How was Andrew untangling the trotline?”
Doug gave him a quizzical look, not understanding how Kinnick didn’t know how to do this. “He pulls the line in and checks each individual line for fish. If the lines get tangled, he cuts it and lets it go.”
“What’s he cut it with?”
“His knife.”
Kinnick circled the crossed-out word on his paper again. Knife. “Wait, Doug. Andrew had a knife on him?”
“I. Um. Yes. Always does.”
“What’s the knife look like?”
“Bout five inches, black.”
“You’re released.”
If we had the knife, this would be easier.
Kinnick stood up.
“Mrs. Thomas, can you come up?”
The old woman with perfectly curled hair walked forward and sat in a chair near Kinnick. Her head went from person to person. She waved hello to a few people, loving the attention.
Kinnick tapped his paper with a pen. “Can you reiterate your story for everyone?”
She matter-of-factly nodded the affirmative. “Yes, I can. I was getting ready to cook breakfast. I heard some shouting and looked out the window. I saw that man there.” She pointed at Volk. “He was hitting Andrew with his gun over and over until he stopped moving.”
“Mrs. Thomas, where is your house in relation to the docks?” Kinnick studied his notes. He jotted a long rectangle representing the dock.
“Four doors down.”
Her chin rose up slightly as she spoke.
“About how far would you say that is from where Andrew and Doug were standing?”
“I dunno. About forty yards.”
“Mrs. Thomas, what kind of vision do you have?”
Her brow scrunched up and her eyes squinted.
“I wear glasses,” she muttered.
“Where are your glasses today?”
She seemed taken aback. “I didn’t wear them.”
“Why didn’t you wear your glasses?”
“‘Cause I only need them for reading.”
He drew a line from the house back to the docks with an arrow and jotted forty next to it. He glanced up at her. “Were you wearing your glasses that morning?”
“No, I was not.” Her mouth settled flat.
“Can you do me a favor? Can you turn your back to everyone?”
Her eyebrows shifted to their lowest point in offense but did as he asked. Kinnick waved at Whitehead and Volk. “Go to the edge of the restaurant. Hunter. Washington. All of you.” Kinnick’s men lined up against the wall of the restaurant.
“Before Mrs. Thomas turns around, does everyone agree that this is about twenty yards? A shorter distance than what Mrs. Thomas claims to live from the docks.”
People looked at one another and heads nodded.
“Good.” He turned to face Mrs. Thomas. “Now, Mrs. Thomas. You may turn around.” Mrs. Thomas spun around. She immediately squinted at the far wall filled with his men.
“I don’t see why this is necessary,” she said angrily.
“It is. I want you to pick out the two Marines you saw that day. The two that hit Doug and killed Andrew.”
She licked her lips. “Let’s see here.” Her eyes scanned back and forth down the line of fighting men.
“I’ll say.” With hesitation, she lifted a hand and pointed at Boone. “I’ll say.” Her hand drifted down the line. “Him. He was the one I saw and him.” Her hand pointed to the end. “Yup.”
“Are you sure, Mrs. Thomas? This is important.”
Her chin rose even higher. “Absolutely positive.”
“Those selected, you may step forward.”
Duncan and Boone took a step forward. “You selected two Marines that were not there.”
“No. You tricked me. Those two men were there.”
“They were not. Please have a seat, Mrs. Thomas.”
She shook her head no. “I. I swear I saw them.” The elderly woman walked back to her seat.
Kinnick exhaled. It’s enough of a finger-pointing match to call it, he thought, but the boy is still gone. Kinnick sat back in his chair and wrote “no credible witnesses involved” on his notepad and circled it. He cleared his throat, prepping himself to speak. “Before we move forward, I believe it prudent to hear Biggs’s story.”
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
“Give us justice.”
Kinnick shook his head. “Now, hold. These cases are related.”
“Mr. Biggs. Can you tell us your story?”
Mr. Biggs shook his head in disgust and stood. “Not guilty,” he said loud at the people. “I didn’t do it and I don’t recognize your authority here nor the authority of this illegal court.”
Kinnick sighed. “Yet here we are. Are you saying your son is a liar?”
Mr. Biggs glared at Kinnick. “I’m sayin’ my son was confused. He didn’t know what he was talkin’ about. Listen, he ain’t none too bright and all your big words got him all scrambled like in the head.”
“So, you did not shoot Private Gore three days ago?”
Biggs pressed his lips together and nodded. “I did not.”
“You may sit. Randy, can you stand up?”
Randy nodded and stood. He was about sixteen years old, his frame thicker than average with a shaved head and a snub nose. Acne spotted his face. “Randy, do you remember our conversation a few nights ago?”
Randy nodded.
“What did we talk about?”
“I don’t remember.”
“We talked about the shooting at the water tower.”
“I can’t remember.”
“We talked about how you felt when my unit came to the town. About how your father made you accompany him to the water tower.”
Randy shook his head no.
The packed restaurant grew restless. “You’re leading him,” said a man in the front row.
Kinnick held up a hand. He pulled a bullet casing from his breast pocket. “We found this below the water tower. It’s a casing for a .300 Winchester Magnum Cobra AP bullet.” He scooped up a baggie in his other hand. “Is Dr. Yentz here?” The doctor stood up, his eyes large behind his glasses.
“I am.”
Kinnick waved the baggie. “Can you look at this?”
The doctor walked forward and took the baggie in his hand.
“Is this the bullet you removed from Private Gore?”
“It is.”
“You notice anything different than normal?”
“Well, I haven’t treated many gunshot victims, but it seems different than a normal bullet.”
“How’s that, doctor?”
“The metal I found in him was steel.”
“Thank you.” Kinnick took the bag back.
“Hunter. What kind of bullets are .300 Winchester Magnum Cobra APs?”
“Cobra manufactures an armor-piercing round for rifles.”
“Is this bullet consistent with what you know of Cobra Magnums?”
“Yes, it is. An armor-piercing round is usually designed with a steel or other hardened core, and with enough velocity, will penetrate body armor. Of course, all of this is dependent on the weapon and the level of body armor. It’s not unheard of to have regular rounds go through armor, but Gore’s body armor looked like someone drilled a hole through it. To me, that indicates an armor-piercing round was used in the assassination.”
“And it matches the casing we found?”
Hunter brought forward a scoped rifle.
Kinnick held it up in Randy’s direction. “Randy, do you recognize this gun?”
“What kind of ammunition does this shoot?”
“.300 Mags.”
“There has to be a dozen guns just like it in town,” Mr. Biggs said.
“That’s true, but how many people have the Cobra rounds?”
Hunter brought a box of ammo and tossed it on the table. The rounds jiggled together in their case. The packaging had a coiled cobra on the side.
“We found those in your closet,” Kinnick said. He pushed the ammunition. “Gun, ammo—,” Kinnick let his voice trail off. He turned back to Randy. The group was beginning to see the reality of the situation. Kinnick had the bad guy. He had the weapon. He had the placement. He only needed a motive.
“Randy, have you ever heard your father speak badly about the government?”
“I. Um.” The young man’s brow wrinkled as he thought.
“Go on ahead.”
“Yeah.”
“Like what kind of stuff would he say?”
Biggs stood up from his chair. “We do not recognize this court!”
“Enough, Mr. Biggs,” Kinnick said sternly. He turned back to Randy. “You may continue. What does your dad say that he hasn’t said already today?”
Randy stared down at his hands. “He doesn’t like the stuff Congress was doing. He thinks the federal government doesn’t represent us. We didn’t sign any contract with them.”
Kinnick pushed on the boy some more. “What kind of contract?”
“I don’t always understand all of it, but we hold our own sovereignty that is given to us at birth.” He looked out at everyone and not getting the response he thought he would, peered down at his feet.
“I see. Did your dad like the president?”
Randy kind of laughed. “No. He hated that guy.” Nervous laughter sprinkled the crowd.
“Did you ever hear him say anything about the military?”
“Yeah. He said you were the control arm of the government and it was only a matter of time before the government used them against us. You guys showed up just like he said you would.”
Kinnick nodded. “That’s correct. We came to help. What about when my men and I arrived? Did he say anything about us?”
“He talked a lot about how you were only here to collect food and taxes. You only wanted to take advantage of us. Then leave us to get murdered by the monsters.”
Kinnick nodded. “Have we done any of those things?”
Randy glanced around. “I don’t think so. I mean you hurt Doug and killed Andrew.”
Kinnick paused. “I see. Did he ever talk about hurting any of my men?”
“I guess. I mean kind of like ‘I’ll take care of them.’”
“Not a crime,” Mr. Biggs said.
“You are correct. It’s not a crime to talk about something in passing.” Kinnick stood and began to pace, hands clasped behind his back. “Randy, have you ever been up to the water tower?” Kinnick stopped close to the young man and stared.
“Well, yeah. We ain’t supposed to, but sometimes we climb up there for fun. You can see really far.”
“What can you see from up there?”
“You know. Across the river, houses, the school.”
“Can you see the building we’re in now? Can you see this restaurant?”
“Sure.”
Kinnick turned his back and paced the other way. “Your dad ever go up there?” He looked over his shoulder when Randy didn’t answer right away.
Randy’s leg started to bounce up and down. “I suppose so.”
“What about a few days ago?”
“No,” Randy muttered.
Kinnick spun around. “Randy, did you go up there a few days ago?”
“Yeah.” Randy rubbed his hands on his leg, forcing his leg to stop shaking.
Kinnick cocked his head. “But your dad didn’t?”
“I mean, he might have.” Randy’s eyes drifted back to his father.
“Well, was he there or not?”
Randy licked his lips. “Yeah, we climbed up to the top.”
“Why?”
Randy lifted a shoulder as he spoke. “I dunno, to get a better view of the area.”
“But not to shoot any of my men?”
Randy regarded his dad and then flicked his eyes back to Kinnick. “No.”
“Randy, do you like your dad?”
He kind of smiled. “Of course.”
Kinnick paced forward. “He ever hit you or your mom?”
“Only when I was bad.”
“He ever make you do something you didn’t want to do?”
The young man cracked a small smile. “Yeah. All the time.”
“Did he ever make you do something you felt was wrong? Deep down you knew he was wrong, but you did it anyway ’cause he’s your dad.”
“I dunno.”
Kinnick stood up straight and gave the townspeople a sweeping gesture. “Randy, all these people are here to try and fix this problem. We just want the truth so we can make it go away. Wouldn’t that be nice, Randy? To make this all go away?” Kinnick got to within a few feet of Randy. “Which one of you shot Private Gore?”
“I.” The boy stuttered and looked back at his dad.
Biggs’s lip curled. “Don’t answer that, son.”
The boy stared at Kinnick, watery tears filling his blinking eyes. Kinnick leaned even closer.
“Answer the man,” said a man from the audience.
“Yeah!” cried someone else.
Kinnick held up his hand. “Let the boy speak.” He stood up tall again. “Now, Randy, I know you’re not a bad kid and we all make mistakes sometimes. I get it. We came into town unannounced and it seemed hostile. You thought you had to stand up for your rights, so you climbed up there and shot one of our men. I get it, Randy. I’m a patriot too. I’ve been fighting for our country and our rights since I was your age. We’re the same really.”
“You shut your goddamn mouth. You and him ain’t nothin’ alike.”
“Mr. Biggs, I was talking with Randy. You can wait your turn to speak.”
Mr. Biggs stood up. “You don’t make the rules here. This country was founded on rights and all you’ve done is stomp all over them.”
“Mr. Biggs, I’m going to ask you to sit down and let Randy speak.” Kinnick turned toward Randy. “Randy, no one thinks you’re bad, but why did you shoot that Marine? This is very serious. He died as a result of that shooting.”
Randy’s jaw dropped. “But I didn’t.” His mouth gaped as he stared around the room. “I swear it I didn’t do it.” He shook his head, begging for someone to believe him.
Mr. Biggs shook with rage. “Quit hammering the poor kid. He didn’t do nothing wrong. I did it and I’d do it again. You pieces of shit only ever take. Ya never give. All you do is lie and lie and tax the shit out of us. Electricity goes out, and a few months later after we been doing just fine on our own, a boatload of you guys show up and want to help. Probably here to see how much we have so they can take it from us like the criminals you are! I don’t recognize your authority here. I only recognize my sovereign rights as a citizen. Your laws do not apply here.”
Kinnick sighed and nodded his head. “Martin, you can sit down now.” Confession.
Kinnick moved back to his table. “This is an ugly situation. No doubt about that. Not much good has come since we’ve been here. You’ve heard everyone’s testimonies. I’ve heard them. I want people to feel like there is justice done here, so I will leave their fates in your hands. Will you hang Volk for murder? Will you hang Martin Biggs for murder? What will you do, people of Warden?”
The restaurant erupted in shouts. Volk’s mouth was tight like he wanted to spit. “Fuck you, Colonel. You can’t do this to us. It was an accident. It was a fucking accident, and now, I have to answer to the likes of them.” He pointed out at the people. “You saw what they did to Gore!”
People pointed and shouted. Hunter rested his hand on his sidearm ready to
go hot if things went south. The shouting reached an apex and Kinnick could stand it no longer.
“People, please. Listen.” Slowly they calmed and took their seats. “I will admit this has been a disaster. One of my men killed a young person of your community. He did so out of frustration for the loss of his own brother-in-arms, but he seems sincere when he says it was an accident. We also have Martin Biggs, a man who has admitted to murdering one of my Marines in cold blood. Can we come together and say that enough death is enough? Can we recognize that there’s a greater threat and we have to stick together or perish? Let these men live and let us fight the greater evil, the dead.”
The people eyed one another. Some nodded. They had all seen the dead or the monsters. Others shook their heads no. Too much injustice had been done.
Kinnick dipped his chin and folded his hands behind his back. “I’ll give you until tomorrow to make a decision. Everyone’s dismissed.”
MAUSER
Southeastern Iowa
Mauser’s boots crushed dead grass beneath them as he circled a pickup on foot. It was so riddled with bullets it was almost unrecognizable. Fuel leaked out from the truck, puddling underneath. Blood ran out the bottom of the doors and dripped onto the ground below in a tiny crimson stream. The dark blood of the bodies refused to blend with the oily fuel.
He held his SCAR downward. Mauser peered through the shattered window. Four remains were in the cabin. He reached in, grabbing the sleeve of one. He jerked the man, or what he thought was a man, his eyes trying to decipher the gore-stained patch. Some sort of mechanical gear. He let the man slump back over onto the remains of his seatmate, no more than another pile of ravaged uncooked meat and bone.
Bullet holes covered the bodies like a sickening plague. Blood seeped from every single hole. Jackson had let one of his .50 caliber turrets open up on the unsuspecting pickup from less than twenty yards away.
He glanced over at the Humvee responsible. “Bengston, you sure there were more?”
“Yes, sir. At least two other trucks that got away.” Mauser turned back to the pickup. He moved closer, ignoring the puddle of bodily fluids gathering nearby. He leaned over into the truck bed. Three large packs sat in the back. He picked one up and turned it upright.
He dug his hand around inside, expecting food and water or at least bullets. His hand wrapped around a plastic-enclosed rectangular block. He pulled it out and felt its weight. C4 explosives.
The Departing (The End Time Saga Book 4) Page 40