Solar Plexus

by Victor Zugg

  “I feel like I owe Jeffries,” Sam said. “You guys don’t have to come.”

  “Uh-huh, fat chance,” Chet replied.

  Tiff turned toward the sofa. “Ditto.”

  They all three pulled their boots on, laced them in the dark, and grabbed their rifles.

  “What’s the plan?” Chet asked, as Tiff opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

  “Surprise the hell out of them,” Sam replied.

  In pitch dark, Sam, Chet, and Tiff hustled to the end of the hall, down the stairs, and out the front entrance. In stealth mode, they scurried around to the rear of the building and then dashed across the grass to a tall hedge and a six-foot concrete block wall that stood between the hedge and the road. Chet slipped into the hedge, leaned his rifle against the wall, and got down on all fours. Sam motioned to Tiff who then stepped up on Chet’s back so she could see over the wall. Almost immediately she stepped back down and Chet got to his feet.

  “The last of them just poured through a hole in the fence,” Tiff whispered. “One lookout left behind, about fifty yards down.”

  Sam leaned toward Chet. “Give me a hand over the wall and then help Tiff up so she can give me cover. I’ll try to take him out quietly.”

  Chet nodded and then clasped his hands together to form a step. Sam stepped up, took a look over, and then hopped on top of the wall. The lookout was barely visible standing against the chain link fence, as Tiff said, about fifty yards up the road. Since the hedge behind Sam was taller than the wall, Sam was able to remain in shadow. Sam quietly lowered himself to the ground and then crouched while he swept the area with his rifle for more lookouts. Tiff popped up with just her head and shoulders above the wall and brought her rifle to bear. The sole lookout was peering through the hole in the fence with his back to Sam.

  Sam ran across the pavement to the lookout’s side of the road and then inched along the fence without making a sound. Sam made it to within fifteen feet of the lookout when suddenly the man spun around. Sam found himself nose-to-nose with a large caliber automatic pistol. In that same instant, a single gunshot boomed from behind and the impact of a round to the man’s chest tumbled him backward and to the ground. The man dropped his pistol, grabbed his chest, and tried to stem the flow of blood.

  The man, covered in tattoos, locked eyes with Sam. “You a dead man!” he moaned.

  Sam stepped closer. “You first.” Sam heard footsteps and turned to see Tiff running up. “I’ve lost count, is that three or four?” Sam asked.

  “Three or four what?” Tiff replied.

  “Times you’ve saved my life.”

  “It is becoming a bit of a habit.”

  More footsteps and Sam and Tiff turned to look. Chet came running up. He immediately kicked the pistol away from the lookout who was still moaning in pain with both hands over the wound in his chest. At that moment, a fury of sustained gunfire blasted from the compound. Sam, Chet, and Tiff peeked through the hole in the fence and then dashed through, taking cover behind a Hummer. When the firing stopped Sam raised from his crouched position just enough to see through the Hummer windows. He did not expect what he saw.

  All the men who previously rushed through the hole in the fence were sprawled on the tarmac either dead or dying. At least thirty guardsmen, all with shouldered weapons, stepped from various spots around the scene. It was obvious that the men who Sam now assumed were gang members had been caught in a classic pincer. Sam then saw Lieutenant Colonel Byers and some other men leave their cover and walk toward the scene. At that same moment, Sam heard movement behind him and turned to see Lieutenant Harvey and three other men, all with shouldered weapons, step through the hole in the fence.

  Sam slowly raised his hands, still holding his rifle. “It’s Sam Pratt.”

  Harvey lowered his rifle. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “We heard activity from our window and saw the gangbangers about to attack.”

  “So you came down to help,” Harvey said.

  Chet stepped closer. “It was the least we could do.”

  “You could have gotten yourselves killed.”

  “We had no way of knowing you were expecting the attack,” Tiff said.

  “We have a metro gang squad detective with us. He knows the gangs and figured they might attack the compound when we sent out our patrols.”

  “How did you know they would attack here?” Sam asked.

  “It’s the weakest spot,” Harvey replied. “But we could actually have responded no matter where they entered.”

  “You must have been watching us,” Tiff said.

  “Night-vision. We were down the road about a hundred yards. We didn’t know who you were but when you took the lookout down, we figured you were friendly.”

  Sam turned to the sound of men approaching and saw Byers and a civilian—middle to late thirties, dark hair, good shape, dressed in tactical gear—marching over. Based on the colonel’s stride he didn’t seem happy.

  “What’s going on here lieutenant?” Byers asked.

  “Sir, Major Pratt and his two friends spotted the commotion and thought it might be a sneak attack,” Harvey replied. “They came to help.”

  Byers turned to Sam. “Major, I appreciate the thought, but you people could have screwed up our plans.”

  “Sorry, colonel. We thought we were helping.”

  The civilian stepped over to the hole in the fence, peered out, and then walked back to the group. “Looks like they did help some. The lookout is down.” The civilian turned to Sam and stuck out his hand. “Detective Paul Elliot.”

  Sam caught a whiff of eucalyptus from the detective as he stuck out his hand to shake. Sam took his hand in a firm grasp. “Sam Pratt. This is Sergeant-Major Chet Stevens, army retired, and Tiffany Conway, former marine corps. Tiff took out the lookout.” Elliot shook hands with Chet and Tiff.

  “I’ve read a couple of books on security by a Sam Pratt, is that you?”

  “It is.”

  “Good stuff,” Elliot said. He turned to Tiff. “Good work Ms. Conway.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, keeping her gaze locked on Elliot’s face a beat too long.

  Even in the dark Sam noticed the obvious attraction.

  Byers cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, we have work to do here. Please see to these people.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Byers turned and marched off. Elliot lingered a bit.

  “Coming detective?”

  Elliot looked at Sam and then Chet. “Nice to meet you all.” He then turned his gaze to Tiff and held it a few beats longer. “I hope to see you again.”

  Tiff nodded with a slight smile as Detective Elliot turned and hurried to catch Byers.

  Sam glimpsed at Tiff. “Interesting man.”

  “Isn’t he though,” Chet said. “Even with the eucalyptus.”

  “Eucalyptus?” Tiff asked.

  “A natural bug repellant,” Chet said. “I use it sometimes when mosquitoes are bad. No bad chemicals, but it is pungent.”

  “You guys should probably head back to the hotel,” Harvey said.

  Sam nodded. “Sorry about the mix-up.”

  “Not a problem,” Harvey said.

  Sam, Chet, and Tiff stepped back to the fence, slipped through the hole, and began walking back to the hotel, taking the long route around to the front.

  ***

  The magnified image of the two men and one woman walking in the distance was replaced with the lookout lying on the sidewalk. The man removed the binoculars from his eyes and stared into the distance. He stood with three other young men on top of the ten-story Vacation Suites building on the north side of Interstate 85. All four men were covered in tattoos and they each wore at least one red article of clothing. The man with the binoculars wore a red handkerchief tied around his neck. From this vantage point, the men were able to see everything that had transpired, including when the woman shot the lookout.

  One of the men stepped closer
to the edge of the roof and then glanced back at the man with the binoculars. “Toothpick, they iced Gizzy.”

  Toothpick gritted his teeth and flexed his jaw muscles. “My brother knew the risks.” He then motioned to the three walking down the sidewalk. “Just the same, those three are done,” he said calmly.

  “What about the soldiers?” one of the men asked.

  “Them too,” Toothpick grunted. He then pointed to the two men and one woman in the distance. “They’re probably in the Huddle. Put some people on them. If you get the chance, take them alive.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Just after sunrise the next morning, pounding on the door brought Sam out of a deep sleep. Chet and Tiff bolted upright as well. Chet laid his head back on the pillow and rolled to his side while Tiff got up and ambled to the door rubbing her eye. She checked the peephole.

  Tiff opened the door. “Detective.”

  Sam joined Tiff at the door. “What’s up?”

  Elliot and Tiff exchanged gazes as he stepped inside and then faced Sam. “There’s a place downtown that houses classic cars. Thought we might find you guys some transportation.”

  Tiff closed the door. “Lieutenant Harvey told you about Tennessee and our dilemma.”

  “Correct,” Elliot said. “We’ll be lucky if any are left, but it’s worth a try.”

  Chet rose up, swiveled, and put his feet on the floor. “What about breakfast?”

  “Wheels or breakfast,” Elliot said. “Your choice.”

  Sam, Chet, and Tiff, dressed in the same t-shirts and tactical pants as the day before, put their boots on, holstered their side arms, and picked up their rifles.

  “Ready,” Sam said.

  They all strode out the door and down the hall.

  “You got a ride?” Chet asked, as they were going down the stairs.

  “Lieutenant Harvey was nice enough to loan me a Hummer.”

  Tiff glanced at Elliot. “Does the colonel know?”

  “I’m out collecting Intel,” Elliot replied.

  Sam and Chet squeezed into the back of the Hummer parked out front leaving only the front passenger seat available for Tiff. She shook her head and then slipped into the seat while Elliot got behind the wheel. He started the engine and pulled away.

  “Where is this place?” Sam asked.

  “Up eighty-five to five points. The place is aptly named classic cars.”

  “Why would we expect any cars to be there?” Chet asked.

  “They’re in a warehouse not that well marked. Maybe no one has thought of it yet.”

  “Maybe,” Chet mumbled.

  “We really appreciate your effort,” Tiff said.

  Elliot smiled at Tiff and then turned to focus on driving. Sam looked out the windows mesmerized by what was happening. Looting was rampant. Broken windows and doors lined the street. People ran about with arms full of merchandise. There was even an occasional gunshot and a couple of vehicles were on fire. Hardship these days seemed to bring out the worst in way too many people. Sam was amazed how a person could be a fine upstanding individual one day and a raving lunatic the next, having reverted to the dark side in a matter of hours.

  “This place is out of control,” Sam commented. “There’s no way the guard will be able to reign in this chaos.”

  Elliot glanced back at Sam. “We know. We knew it pretty much day one but last night confirmed our fears. People have gone crazy.”

  “Are you getting a lot of desertions from the force?” Chet asked.

  “Yes. In droves. And much earlier than any of the brass expected. Even the guard and regular army are feeling the pinch. People on both sides are scared.”

  “What about the gangs?” Sam asked.

  “Rampant. Drugs were their merchandise of choice before the lights went out. Now it’s drugs, food, and water. To some degree, gangs that would never have cooperated before are now joining forces to control what food is left. Primarily, it’s the grocery store distribution centers they want. That’s why Byers is here.”

  “Is it safe driving through here?” Tiff asked.

  Elliot smiled at her. “The distribution centers are on the outskirts. That’s where the gangs are most active. But to answer your question, I would not be venturing out alone tonight. I wouldn’t go out with a squad of navy seals come tomorrow. Right now, people are focused on looting. By tomorrow they’ll be turning on each other.”

  Sam peered out the window and noted that as they got closer to the center of town, the number of looters grew fewer. “I suppose even the little people are beginning to realize that only food and water really matter at this point,” Sam said.

  Elliot looked to his right and left. “Yeah, less food sources in the center of town. We should be okay down here at least long enough to check on the cars.”

  Elliot slowed to weave through some stalled vehicles, driving up on the sidewalk when necessary. He pointed ahead. “The place is right up here on the right.”

  Tiff put her hand on her rifle and scrunched forward in her seat as Elliot turned into a small parking lot in the rear of a large two-story building. A regular door and a metal roll-up door faced the parking lot. There were no people around.

  “Were these cars for sale?” Tiff asked.

  “It’s grown into more of a museum. Started out as a private collection with just a few cars. The original owner died years ago with no known heirs, so the city took possession until an heir could be found. Enthusiasts donated money to help maintain the collection. They even donated more cars. Over time it grew into the modest display that it is today. The city moved it to this location a few years ago.”

  “Will any of them still run,” Chet asked.

  Elliot pulled to a stop and opened his door. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

  Tiff stepped out followed by Sam and Chet.

  “Rifles?” Chet asked.

  Elliot glanced around and then back to Chet. “No one around. I’m okay with just my Glock.”

  Sam glanced at Chet and shrugged his shoulders.

  Chet left his rifle in the Hummer and slammed the door.

  Everyone moved to the rear door.

  Sam knocked on the door. “Metal. Won’t be busting through this anytime soon.”

  Chet tried lifting the roll-up door but it would not budge.

  Tiff headed for the corner of the building. “What about windows?”

  “Just those thick glass blocks on the sides,” Elliot replied. “Probably tougher than the doors. The front has glass windows and a glass door, but I’d prefer to keep this low key.”

  Chet kicked the roll-up door. “A cop, a marine, a grunt, a flyboy and we can’t even open the door.”

  Sam kneeled in front of the door and examined the knob and lock. He then produced a small classic Victorinox pocket knife and opened the nail file. “I need a piece of wire, like a paper clip.”

  Tiff returned to the Hummer and searched throughout, including under the seats. Finally, she stood up with something silver in her fingers. “How about a paperclip?”

  Sam smirked as Tiff walked over and handed it to him. He straightened a two-inch length and added a tiny bend at the end. Sam used the very tip of the fingernail file stuck in the bottom of the keyhole to provide tension while he manipulated the pins with the paperclip. Everyone watched as he worked. A few minutes later there was an audible click. Sam used the fingernail file to turn the lock tumbler which also turned the knob. The door popped open.

  “One of my many skills,” Sam said, as he smiled and stood up.

  Elliot moved to the open door. “So you’re a cat burglar.”

  “Today I am,” Sam said, as everyone stepped through the door.

  Inside, light from the side glass-block windows was enough to illuminate everything.

  “Wow!” Chet said, and then he whistled.

  “Wow is right,” Sam echoed.

  Sam scanned the large room. Scattered around the open floor were classic cars of nearly every er
a, size, color, and shape. Each was polished to a high gloss. And each included a placard on a stand displaying the make, model, and year.

  “There must be fifty cars in here,” Tiff said, as she started walking among them. She let her fingers glide over the shiny paint. “When did they start putting computers in cars?”

  “Anything prior to the early seventies should run,” Sam responded, as he too started walking among the cars. “Cars prior to that didn’t have circuits susceptible to an EMP.”

  Chet remained by the door. “Maybe one of us should wait outside by the Hummer.”

  Elliot started toward the door. “I can do that.”

  Chet opened the door. “That’s okay, allow me.”

  Chet stepped outside and closed the door. Elliot walked over and accompanied Tiff as she examined the various cars.

  “Chevy, Ford, Dodge, Buick… they’re all represented,” Sam said. “Even Hudson and Studebaker.” Sam saw Tiff examining a bright red Cadillac convertible. “Nothing too flashy.”

  Tiff turned her attention to a black and white 1956 Chevy Bel Air. “What about this?”

  “Nice car, but we’d have to move twenty cars to get it out of here,” Elliot said.

  Sam, Tiff, and Elliot then converged on the cars nearest the roll-up door and gravitated to a dark green 1963 Ford Galaxie 500.

  Sam walked slowly around the car. He paused at the double headlights and the large round tail lights. He stuck his head in the open driver’s window and the stepped back and opened the door. “Keys?”

  Elliot looked around the area. “They probably keep them all in one place. Maybe a lockbox on the wall.”

  They all spread out and searched the area.

  Tiff headed up some stairs. “I’ll look up here.”

  Elliot hustled over. “Mind some company?”

  “Nope, don’t mind at all,” Tiff replied, as they both disappeared up the stairs.

  Sam continued searching the first floor. He checked all the walls and then moved to the front of the building where he found a lobby, a counter, and three offices, all well lit by the large glass windows. Sam ducked behind the counter when he saw three men crossing the street in front of the building. They stepped up on the sidewalk but kept walking until they were no longer in view.