“We need to move,” I growled.
“I’m not sure you do,” the policeman added. “The main road to Roswell is out right now due to a rock slide. Unfortunately, nobody told the agents that. My guess is they’ll go all the way up to Lincoln before they realize they need to turn around and take a detour through Devil’s Canyon. Maybe next time they come into our town they’ll mind their manners a bit more.”
“All right,” I growled. “That gives us more than enough time to stop at the cabin and suit up. If these fuckers want a problem, let’s give them one.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” the policeman interrupted, “but you are the fellah that’s been running around and fighting them zombies, ain’t ya?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“My sister was in El Paso,” the policeman said. “Your team saved her life.”
With that, the man offered me his hand, which I accepted. Maybe he didn’t have such a bad attitude after all.
No one said a word as we drove to my parents’ cabin. My parents were, of course, worried sick. They had about a thousand questions, but I really wasn’t able to answer any of them. I left all of that up to Dudley and Nick. Fortunately the kids, Otis and Amy, were asleep. I don’t think I would have been able to tell them about their mother.
As soon as we could, we made our way to the backyard.
“What was in the backyard?”
My own personal Batcave.
Or more accurately: an underground bunker, marked only by a hinged metal door in the ground that opens up to a ladder and descends ten feet under the earth. At the bottom of the ladder is a metal door that opens up by keypad. Beyond the door are four buried storage containers that have been outfitted into a modified living space.
It’s also where I keep a lot of spare weapons.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure why I even had the place. Nobody ever used it. I guess I just thought it might be a good idea to have it if anyone staying at the cabin needed a decent place to seek shelter in case the shit ever hit the fan.
Dudley and Nick followed me down. The three of us suited up in our bite suits and grabbed our weapons. I had a sudden stab of sorrow as I grabbed my tactical vest. I’m not sure if I ever told you this before or not but it was Skie that designed the bandana wearing skull and crossed pistols that I wear on the chest of my vest.
“I don’t believe you mentioned that to me.”
Well, we took the name Regulators from a gang Billy the Kid was in. It’s kind of an homage to the West. Skie always thought I needed something on my chest that people could recognize. She therefore made me a design that paid tribute to the name of our group.
“Is the bandana over the skulls mouth a reference to outlaws?”
It is, but she goofed on the musket pistols. In the days of Billy the Kid, single action Colt revolvers ruled most of the land. Skie didn’t know that. She’s not really all that interested in gunfighter history. I think I loved the design even more with the little mistake.
“I’ve noticed that the team members have started wearing the design as well.”
Yeah. They all have a patch on the left arm of their bite suits. Georgie and Dudley even went so far as to have it printed on t-shirts. It helps them pick up girls when they go out.
“Did the others notice that you were having difficulties?”
Not at that moment. They were more concerned about catching the shooters.
“So what’s the plan?” Nick asked abruptly.
“We get to Devil’s Canyon ahead of them and take the prisoners.”
“An ambush?” Dudley asked.
“Pretty much,” I answered.
“What I don’t get,” Nick said, “is why we need to do any ambushing in the first place? Why were those government pricks trying to get us into the back of the station? Because to me, it looked like they were going to arrest us. I know what being arrested feels like, and trust me, it feels a lot like that.”
“It felt like it was heading that way,” I agreed.
“Hardin said something was in the wind,” Dudley said. “But what the fuck did we do wrong? How many people at that awards ceremony are alive right now because of us? We’re freakin’ heroes as far as I’m concerned.”
An image of Skie forced its way into my head. I wasn’t a hero. In my mind, my wife was covered in blood, and she wasn’t moving. I had to grip the edge of a nearby table to keep myself from falling. My wife was dying. I was powerless to save her. It suddenly became very hard to breathe. I felt beads of sweat forming on my brow.
Dudley put a hand on my shoulder. He noticed that time.
“It’s ok, Jax,” Dudley said. “You can sit this one out if you want. We can go get these guys and get whatever answers we need.”
Without another word, I left my underground bunker.
As soon as I got above ground I could hear sirens coming from the banquet hall in the distance. The sound made me wonder if any of those odd government morons we’d met at the police station were headed our way. Dealing with government agents didn’t really worry me, but I found it irritating. All that mattered at the time was getting my hands on the shooters. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to teach them all about regret. Nothing was going to stop me.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s get a few things straight. Obviously, there is some group of government type agents against us. These agents have assumed control over the police force, and they don’t seem to give a shit about my pretty little badge. I don’t know what they want, and I don’t know who they’re working for, but it’s probably very safe to assume they aren’t on our side. Fuck that: I’m going after the men that shot my wife and friends. I’m going after the people responsible for the massacre at the banquet hall. My plan is simple. I’m going to kill them all. If anyone stands in my way, I’ll go through them. Are you two certain you want to come?”
Dudley crossed his right arm over his chest, and made a fist over his heart.
“I’m a Regulator,” Dudley said. “Until the bitter end.”
“Fuck yeah,” Nick smiled.
“Then leave Miriam’s car,” I said. “We’re taking the Harleys.”
Merrick came running up to me in the garage. She didn’t want me to leave her behind. I stopped and scratched her behind the ears, and then walked her back to my Mom and Dad who were watching us from the front porch.
“You be careful out there,” my Mom said as she hugged me.
Nick and Dudley weren’t exactly experts when it came to riding motorcycles, but I figured that if anyone was after us, they probably knew we had Miriam’s car. Anyway, the Harleys were fast. We knew the area, we had a massive head start, and if by some chance we did get spotted and pursued, we’d also have an easier time losing them on the bikes.
“How many Harleys were at the cabin?”
I think at that time we had five in the garage. Two of them were mine, and three of them belonged to Georgie.
I grabbed my Sportster 72. I wanted a light bike that would be easy to maneuver. Dudley chose Georgie’s Street Bob and complained loudly when Nick climbed on the back. I guess Nick didn’t really feel comfortable enough on a bike to ride his own. When I think back on it now, the two of them sharing a Harley is pretty damn funny. At the time, however, not much was breaking through to me.
We set out immediately. My parents waved us off despite being unhappy about us leaving. I think among other things, they were also worried about my mental state. Maybe it was coming out in the few words I spoke. Perhaps it was due to the look upon my face. I’m not sure, but I think I was making people nervous.
The wind was cold. Even I could feel it on my fingers. Fingerless gloves aren’t all they’re cracked up to be when riding a motorcycle. I hit the barely paved road leading to Devil’s Canyon doing about sixty. I slowed down and corrected my speed to allow Dudley an opportunity to catch up. The twists and turns of the single lane road could be perilous. I didn’t want him to endanger himself trying to keep up w
ith me.
It wasn’t long before we found the perfect spot for our ambush. It was at the bottom of a hill, which meant the government agents would be right on top of us before they even knew we were there.
I parked my bike in the middle of the road. We pushed the other Harley into the woods, and Nick and Dudley took up their positions.
I put my earpiece in my ear and tried to radio in to Hardin. There was no answer. I tried again and again. Still, there was no answer. I kept trying. It was a good way to pass the time. One time I thought I actually heard someone answer, but the voice was muffled and gone before I could be sure.
Three hours after we took our positions, my attempts at contact were interrupted.
“I see lights in the distance,” Dudley said through his own earpiece.
“Be ready,” I answered.
I leaned against my Harley and waited for the SUV to make its way down the small hill. A moment after the headlights announced the descent of the vehicle, I blared the high beams of my Harley. The SUV slammed its breaks to avoid hitting me, went sideways for a moment but eventually righted itself on the road.
I didn’t move. Instead, I let them see me. I let the headlights wash over the skull on my chest. I wanted them to know it was me. I wanted to give them a chance to just turn over their prisoners.
The driver stepped out of the vehicle.
He was wearing yet another one of those cheap black suits. I couldn’t make out his face over the headlights, but I made sure that I could see his hands.
“What’s your plan, General?” the man asked.
“That depends on you,” I answered, “but I’m taking your prisoners.”
“I think perhaps your boss Mr. Hardin might have led you a bit astray,” the man countered. “Things are changing up a bit. I think the best thing you can do is wait right here while I call some of my associates to pick you up.”
“If you move,” I said, “I’ll kill you. If you reach for the gun on your hip, or reach for the phone in your pocket, I will shoot you dead.”
The agent smiled.
“Are you sure this is the route you want to take?” he asked.
“Try me and find out.”
He did.
He actually went for his gun. His fingers almost managed to rub against the grip when I pulled my Sig and put a nine millimeter round through the center of his forehead.
After that the SUV erupted with movement. The rest of the agents came spilling out of the doors immediately. Dudley and Nick jumped out of the woods on either side of the vehicle. Everyone began firing. It was a quick fight.
Echoes of gunfire rolled out over the hills and valleys. The air smelled of gunpowder. Four government agents were dead on the roughly paved road.
“We’re in it now,” Nick said.
“Let them come,” I replied.
On the horizon, the sun was just beginning to peak out over the mountains in the distance. We needed to move.
Nick took the large SUV. Dudley and I fired up the bikes and away we went. Sooner or later, the area was going to be hot with more agents, and possibly even the police. We needed some distance and a good place to hide.
Dudley had that covered. He occasionally knocked boots with a girl whose parents owned a cabin closer to town. According to him, the girl’s parents didn’t actually live at the cabin: they just used it for vacationing. Most of the year the place was empty, so it sounded like an excellent hideout for us to use during the day.
As we pulled out, we heard cars tearing up the unpaved road in the distance. The agents must have radioed their predicament in before they got out of the car. It wasn’t a big deal, however; I knew all the twist and turns so avoiding them was relatively easy.
The cabin was alone at the top of a small mountain. The road leading up to it revealed no other driveways so we didn’t have to worry about any nosy neighbors. We stashed the vehicles in the garage. I watched from a distance as Nick led the prisoners out of the vehicle. Each of them was handcuffed and wore a black bag over their head.
I grabbed my binoculars and scanned the landscape. We weren’t being followed so the vehicle evidently wasn’t bugged. Still, I stayed outside in the morning air and planned my next move.
My tomahawk was on the back of my belt as always. My hand twitched with the longing to pull it free of the belt. I told my hand to be patient. We had time to kill, and the prisoners weren’t going anywhere.
When I finally made my way into the house, I noticed Dudley and Nick had cleared out all the furniture from the living room. In place of the furniture, five chairs had been brought out for the five prisoners. They were still wearing the bags over their heads.
“Remove the bags,” I said.
Nick complied immediately. One man looked defiant. He openly glared at me with hatred in his eyes. Three of the others avoided looking at me altogether, and the final man looked frightened.
I stared at them for a moment.
Then I withdrew my tomahawk slowly from the back of my belt. Four of the men tensed up; the defiant man did not. I calmly centered my gaze upon him, and he glared back at me in defiance. With a snarl, I launched myself towards him. My first swing buried the tomahawk into the center of his face, ending his life instantly.
The man’s chair toppled over from the impact. His buddies screamed out in fear. I paid them zero attention. I ripped my weapon free of the man’s face and brought it down again and again. I think I was growling, maybe I was snarling, probably I was screaming.
I ended the assault, composed myself, and stepped in front of the four remaining prisoners.
“I want you each to know that I’m going to kill you,” I said in a calm voice. “Nothing on the face of this earth can prevent your death. I’m going to make you pay for what you did. I’m going to make three of you suffer horribly but only three. The remaining man will go painlessly because that will be the man that answers my questions.”
I walked away. Dudley and Nick followed.
“You think they will talk?” Nick asked.
“They have no choice,” I answered.
“Are you going to be able to do this?” Dudley asked.
“Do I look squeamish to you?” I asked in return.
“That’s not what I meant,” Dudley answered. “I only meant that torture isn’t really your kind of thing.”
“Ssshhh,” Nick interrupted. “They’re talking in there. I can hear them.
All of us got quiet. We could hear them whispering in a foreign language, so we couldn’t understand what they were saying. Suddenly the whispering began to sound more like gagging and retching.
“What the fuck kind of language is that?” Nick asked.
Confusion turned to realization in the span of a heartbeat, and I ran back into the living room. Three of the four men were dead but still twitching. The only one left alive happened to be the frightened man. He was frantically snapping his jaws open and shut while his tongue worked against something in the back of his mouth.
I swung my fist in a downward motion. The blow broke his bottom jaw, and snapped it out of place. My punch was a bit on the side of overkill but it worked regardless.
I reached into the man’s mouth, and searched until I found what I was looking for. He had a fake tooth containing poison. The pricks were killing themselves.
In retrospect, I’m glad things went down the way they did. I was fully prepared to torture and kill each of them. They shot my wife. I wanted them dead. However, while I have no problems killing someone that’s trying to kill me, I worry about the damage to my soul should I ever follow the path of a torturer.
“Now what?” Dudley asked.
“Same as before,” I answered. “I just concentrate everything on this guy.”
The man started crying.
I pulled out my Bowie knife. I ran the tip down the man’s shin. He began to mumble.
“They were supposed to let us go,” the man mumbled. “They were supposed to let us go after we
left the city.”
“Who was supposed to let you go?” I asked.
“The men driving us,” he answered. “The men in black.”
“Were they going to take you somewhere?” I asked.
“We were to regroup in El Paso.”
That one floored me. Why would anyone want to go to El Paso?
“What’s in El Paso?” I asked.
“Our leader is there,” the man mumbled in answer. “My fellow soldiers are there.”
Things weren’t making a lot of sense.
“Who was your target at the banquet hall?” I asked. “If you were after the President, you were a little late to the party. Maybe you were after me?”
The man looked confused.
“We…we…we were told to kill the woman,” he finally stammered.
“What woman?” I shouted.
“Your wife,” He answered through his broken jaw. “We were ordered to kill the wife of the General.”
It was a struggle to maintain control over myself. It was a struggle to keep my hands from closing around the man’s neck and squeezing the life from him.
“Why go after my wife?” I asked. “Why not just come after me?”
“Because our leader hates you so very much, he wants you to suffer. He wants you to come to him, so he can kill you himself.”
I stepped away from our prisoner. I walked to the other side of the room and opened a window. The cool air felt good on my face. I needed it. I was having problems focusing. I noticed that the wounds I received during the attack had begun bleeding again.
“Who the Hell are you assholes?” Dudley demanded. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“I am Albanian Mafia,” the man mumbled. “All of us are Albanian Mafia.”
“This makes no fucking sense,” Nick grumbled loudly.
“Who’s your leader?” Dudley asked the prisoner.
“I do not know his name. We simply call him the Monster.
“Why are you working for him?” Dudley asked.
“My brothers and I were in the worst prison this world has to offer. All of us had death sentences but on the day of our executions we instead met with our Bajrak in a room deep underground. They informed us of an alliance they had made with a military man from your country. In exchange for our lives, we were to serve as his army.”
Broken (Book 3 of The Guardian Interviews) Page 13