Firestorm: Walking in the Rain Book 5

by M. C. Allen

  “What do you mean?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m not going to survive very long doing what I do. You have to promise me that no matter how hard times get or how sad you feel you will always fight to survive. Can you promise me that?”

  “I will,” she whispered.

  “Good. I’m going to get your mom and dad, then I’m going to the next house to see about them. Please hang in there. I want you to meet my kids. You will like them.”

  I went back into the front of the house, dragged the bodies outside, and left them in the hedges by the porch. I found the little shed and opened the door to find a man and women in their forties handcuffed to a support beam by one wrist each. I nodded to them and told them I would be right back with the keys. Of course, the keys were in one of the dead guy’s pockets. I went back to the parents and released them. I spoke to them calmly.

  “The two men who were here are dead. My friends will be here in two days to help. Your daughter is alive, but she is going to need your love for a long time. I don’t have time to bury the two assholes, but they are next to your porch. Get them buried before they stink. Strip them of everything first though. If they bloat it is harder to get their clothes off.” I left them to either do what I told them or not. I had another house to visit. I reloaded my little .22 pistol and drove on to the next house down the road.

  At the next house, I found four captives working in the garden out back with two more men guarding them. I walked up and talked for a bit. I let them know I had been next door and all was well. The garden was looking nice. The tomatoes and cucumbers were doing well, and the okra was going crazy. I asked how many men they had at that house because I was getting a quick head count to report back in the afternoon. Again, it was just the two. I shot them right there and waved at the poor people trying to work in prison shackles.

  “I have they keys. You just relax, and I’ll come to you.” I walked over and took off the handcuffs and ankle restraints. I repeated the same instructions to the couple and their children. I could tell that they had all suffered at the hands of their captors. I told them I was leaving to keep freeing people.

  The next farm would be a harder nut to crack. It was getting late, and the sun was already casting long shadows across the road when I passed the next driveway a mile north on the road. The gate leading to the long tree-lined driveway was closed. There was no way I was going up there and waiting for someone to ask me twenty questions at that gate at gunpoint. These may be a smarter or better-organized group. I had to make the decision with only a slight pause. This felt wrong, and that primal part of my brain that told me to run away was screaming at me.

  I drove on down the road until I found an unused turnout that was overgrown with weeds. It was on the opposite side of the road from the house I needed to investigate. So far, this little jaunt had been easy. I could just go in and start killing people like the other houses, but this one would need to be observed more carefully. There were too many unknowns involved, plus there had to be some decent locations for guards to observe my movements and shoot me dead if they perceived me as a threat. Someone had to be watching that gate.

  Lisa had mentioned in our conversations back in the living room of my new home that she and Danielle had been held for a while in a “mansion” with a large guard force that was especially cruel to their “guests.” They had been held in a large metal building behind the house. This must be the place.

  I hid the truck with limbs and dried brush I cut from the forest surrounding the abandoned path. It would be hard to spot from a cursory look from the road. In order to make sure it would still be here, I popped the hood and removed the battery using a crescent wrench. I then concealed the battery in the bushes. After I settled in, I loaded magazines and cleaned my pistol and rifle. When dusk arrived, I left my pack behind and took only some water and a little food as well as my personal weapons. I wore my vest even though it was hot and restrictive.

  I waited for the light to fade enough for me to cross the road and collapsed into the ditch on the other side. Why did the David cross the road? To avoid getting shot. I started crawling along the dried up wash and hoped I wouldn’t run into any water moccasins. My cover would be blown if I screamed and high-stepped away from the “narrow fellow in the grass.” Armed raiders? No problem. Venomous snakes? Nope. Not gonna stay around and play with them. The kids understood. We all had our issues.

  The moon provided just enough illumination for me to watch the driveway. The gravel was crushed limestone, and it reflected some of the ambient moonlight. After sitting there for several hours, I saw a lone figure creeping along in the shadows down the southern side of the winding driveway. The guard post was easy to locate when I heard their soft voices.

  Thirty yards or so up the drive from the locked gate, along the row of trees, in what appeared to be heavy brush, I saw the guard who had been relieved stumble a bit as he left. They must have a chair or bench in there and the guard had been sitting there so long his legs had fallen asleep. There was no way I could get to the guard’s location without being seen. It was across the driveway and offered no cover.

  I could backtrack, cross the road again, go back south, cross back over the road, and then creep up the edge of the drive along the trees. That was too much movement, and I would lose sight of the guard point. I decided to wait, observe, and move after the new guard had time to lose focus. Guards are more alert the first few hours and the last hour. After two hours, your attention starts to wane. The longer a guard shift, the longer time they had in the middle to be zoning out, staring into the dark.

  It was boring, but after a few hours, I was able to start slowly crawling along the trees and brush that lined the driveway. I needed to get close enough to observe the house and the pattern of guard movements up there. Creeping along the ground, I tried to keep silent and move slowly. I didn’t need someone to raise the alarm or shoot me. I should have brought the Remington with my thermal sight, but the camp needed it more. Joseph would be here in another day, but I could not send them in here blind.

  The trees were immature saplings that did not have a canopy large enough to restrict the growth of underbrush. This could be a potential mistake, because on the other side was open field with very little cover. If I was flushed, I would have to come back by the guard post. This was going to suck.

  Lying on my belly and trying to move through the brush was exhausting. Each limb and fallen twig represented numerous problems. It might have been faster to tunnel underground than to attempt this. Eventually, I made it far enough to see the house. The moon was close to setting, and the guard at the gate had changed again as I moved to my vantage point. I continued waiting and watching.

  The place was well defended by at least three figures circling the grounds. The front gate guard was probably just an early warning system. Serving their time out there was like being a speed bump, and that outpost would be considered a punishment for the men who manned it. They knew they would be the first to take fire. I bet that position was dug in and protected to be that exposed.

  The size of the force was still an unknown factor. There could be ten extra men inside the house, or hiding in the large metal building that looked like a barn. A quick reaction force could swarm and overwhelm attackers. This place had too many unknowns for me to take on my own. I could, but I would just end up dead for my troubles. I needed to shake this place up and see how the ants responded. From the back of the large farmhouse/mansion, I could hear the hum of a large generator.

  They were drawing power even though the lights were off. The windows must be blacked out. If I could interrupt their power, I might be able to see an opening. It was a risk worth taking. The random patterns of the “house” guards were driving me nuts. At one point, a guard stood not ten feet from where I was hiding in a patch of uncut grass. I didn’t stop breathing, but I took slow shallow breaths. He had almost walked right up on me but had stopped before turning and repeating the process at an
other random spot. This time, he went further out into the grass but away from me.

  Once he had continued his circuit, I moved closer to the small metal building that was humming away. There had once been a lock on the door, but it looked like a crowbar had sprung the lock permanently. Thick power cords ran from the shed to the large house only twenty feet away. The house had several low shrubs circling the structure close to the wraparound porch. I would have to act quickly and make it look like a mechanical malfunction. The generator was the same model as the one at the farmhouse. They had gasoline here, but they didn’t bother to share with the guys down the road. I guess there is no honor among murdering scum as well as thieves.

  A cut fuel line would require someone coming out there with a flashlight and a tool kit to fix it. I wanted it to look like it was caused by vibrations though, so I sawed a jagged hole in the line and hustled over to the bushes near the base of the porch. The generator ran on like a champ for a few minutes, but eventually the tank leaked out, and the motor started to pop and chuff. It finally went dead. Guards converged on the shed from both sides of the house. I could hear them talking over the silent machine.

  “That’s not good. It should have run until sunrise,” said one of the shadows standing in front of the doorway.

  Another voice chimed in. “I smell a lot of gas. There must be a leak. It’s really strong in here.” A third form came from inside the house. I heard a door open on the porch above my head. Footsteps came closer, and a shadow in a collared shirt started barking orders at the guards.

  “Get the damn generator running! Do you want to stand guard for the next week straight? I’ll cut you dumb bastards off if you don’t get my damn power back up. We can’t charge the battery packs without it!” With that, he stormed back into the house. The voice was from a man who was possibly around my age based on the sound and with a stronger southern accent than most of the people I worked with in the city.

  Someone turned on a flashlight, bathing the shed and the backyard in unwelcome light. I didn’t need anyone shining it my direction. The porch was up on posts and had enough room for me to crawl under it. It smelled like dogs had once used it for shelter from the broiling Texas sun, and there were depressions left over from their excavations. Houses in this part of Texas were normally built up on pier and beam instead of concrete slab. The shifting sandy soil would split a slab in a few years, but putting the house up on support beams allowed the foundation to adjust over time. It was an old house, and the floorboards creaked when people moved inside.

  I could see little bits of light coming from the house above, so I slid along, listening for movement and feeling my ribs complain about the rough treatment. Even with the vest, I had room to move around, but it was not spacious under the porch. I could still hear the men arguing back at the shed. They seem to be comparing methods for patching the fuel line. I think I heard duct tape mentioned as a stopgap measure. That’s fine; I’ll just come back and peel some of it back and empty their tank again.

  Pushing through a heavy layer of cobwebs, I heard feet sliding on the hardwood floor above, followed by the same pissy voice from the rude man earlier. “If we don’t get these batteries charged, then the next time we lose power, we won’t be able to intercept. Our fuel supply is not continuous. We have those assholes down the road, and right now I don’t know if they intend to move on us or go back to squatting in the woods.”

  A female voice responded, “Can we root them out without extra help? If we have to ask for more men, we may get replaced. You’ve seen what happens to us if we do that.”

  She sounded panicked. She also let me know that there were bigger parts to this organization and that my band of misfits had caused a stir. If they were able to intercept our signals, then they might be passing that information up the chain of command. I thought back to our radio messages in the past few days and realized that I had been correct to leave mine turned off. I intended on calling in to see if Joseph was close, but now I needed to reconsider. I needed to keep that generator off, and hopefully the “battery pack” didn’t have enough juice to listen in on a quick call.

  I waited under the house, but Mr. and Mrs. Raider Commander didn’t say anything else. Either they fell asleep, or they were sitting there glaring at each other. Fine, I’d get what information I needed the usual way: pain with a threat of even more. It didn’t bother me that much anymore as long it was for a good cause. I’ll do it for the children!

  Sliding back to my point of entry beside the hedges, I heard the two “mechanics” furiously working away at the generator by flashlight. Leaving my rifle under to porch, I looked around to see if the third guard was back here, but didn’t see him. This breakdown of the generator must be a big deal for them; they were not even looking over their shoulder when I pulled my pistol and shot them both in the back of the head twice. At that range, the sound of them banging away at the generator was louder than the slide moving back and forth four times.

  They both fell to the concrete floor. The little bullet holes only seeped a little, so no mess. I dragged the first one back to the porch, stuffed him through the hedge, and pulled him deep into the shadows. I repeated the process with the second guard. I took a second and changed my magazine in the little .22 for a fresh one from my chest pouch. I went back to the generator and turned off the light. Then, I sat in the shed with the door open and waited, my pistol in my hand, until the third guard came by. I could hear his feet moving through the knee-deep grass.

  I raised my voice and tried to mimic one of the guys I had just shot. “Hey, can you come help for a second? The light went out and I could use an extra hand in here. I have to get this damn thing fixed.” I hoped I had the voice close enough. The shed should distort my voice enough.

  “You need to get this done! If he comes back and sees us still in here, he might just kill us both out of hand.” He stepped into the dark shadows of the shed. The bullet entered behind his left ear and buried deep in his brain. I caught him before he could hit the wall with his limp form. Great, another body to hide. I needed to get this moving along. I dragged him and hid the evidence with his compatriots. Now I needed to get inside the house quietly. To do that, I needed to make some noise.

  I borrowed one of the M4s that had been donated to my cause by the guards and stomped up onto the porch and banged on the back door. When in doubt, be bold and act like you know what you’re doing. The man inside stormed down the hall and flung the door open.

  “What the hell are you doing!? You are never to bother us!” He was really pissed. Good.

  “Sir, the men working on the generator ran off when they realized they couldn’t get it fixed. I need help out here watching the perimeter. I can’t do this effectively by myself.”

  “Then go get some more animals out of the barn, you dumbass! Think! Use some initiative!” He was pointing clearly at the big metal barn. Well that solved that question.

  “Right away. I wanted you to be apprised of the situation, sir.” As he turned to reenter the house, I smashed the M4 into the back of his neck and dropped him just inside of the doorway. I closed the door behind me and stepped on his head on my way to the front living room. I had the M4 slung and my pistol out in front of me. I stomped back in like the man and caught the woman half asleep on the couch. She got the butt of the pistol smashed into her forehead when she tried to sit up. Slipping wire out of my headband, I tied her wrists and her ankles. Then I tore a piece of her shirt near the hem and made a gag for her. I went back and dragged the man into the same room but wired him to a chair. I turned the chair around, facing it away from the woman, and applied a homemade gag for him as well.

  When I had him secured, I carried the woman into the kitchen area and wired her to a plain metal chair. Then I started searching the house for anyone else. In one of the bedrooms, I found a lot of rope applied to the bed. Somebody had been very bad. Lisa told me that I would find that here. The girls were held in an emptied pantry near the utilit
y room so they would not wake anyone with their crying. I found their door, but it was locked with a padlock. Instead of making a lot of noise tearing into the lock, I left it for later. They were safe in there for now. I needed to eliminate the rest of the guard force before the next shift changed. Three more were probably due for the perimeter, and one was going to be heading down to the gate soon.

  I went back out onto the porch and moved to where I had stashed the bodies. I emptied my magazine pouches of all of the M-14 twenty-round magazines and filled them with the thirty-round M4 magazines. I wanted to be quiet, and I needed to appear to be armed like the guards here. One close look by any of the defenders would prove I didn’t belong. These guys probably knew how each other looked and moved in the dark after being cooped up here for a while on constant watch. I checked my pistol again and got ready. The barn was waiting for me. There could be four or eight or even ten men in there. Captives could also be held in there to “service” the guards exclusively. There was only one way for me to be sure.

  The door next to the large swinging barn doors was unlocked and the interior was dark. Somewhere in the main section, a candle was burning, but the light was faint over by the entrance. I closed the door behind me and listened. I heard light snoring but no sound of people getting ready for guard duty. Maybe I was early enough to catch them asleep. A cough from further back got my attention.

  A single shadowy figure was moving about and grumbling. He looked like he was kicking a poorly behaved dog, but in the dim light it was hard to tell. When the second figure stood on unsure legs, I figured it was the poor sap who had to get to the gate. That had to suck—knowing that you were thought of as disposable. I waited for him to get ready to leave while I stood there in the deep shadows. They hadn’t heard me come in. Good.