by Harley Tate
Then she saw the empty bag of sunflower seeds. She turned around. “Colonel Jarvis?”
“Yes?”
She chose her words carefully. “Were you telling the truth about those men? Colt really did kill them for no reason?’
“Yes, child. That’s the truth.”
She nodded like she’d come to a decision. “Then I’ll help you. I know how to get in touch with him.”
The man inhaled, his chest swelling out in satisfaction. “Tell me.”
“I just need some masking tape and a clean window.”
Five minutes later, Dani stepped back from the window and exhaled. The masking-tape X took up all of the pane and Dani was sure it could be seen from a few blocks away.
“That’s it? Tape in a window?”
She glanced back at the colonel. Had he never watched TV? “It’s from a show we both like.”
Colonel Jarvis snorted. “And it will work?”
Dani kept her smile to herself. “It’s our signal. If he sees it in the window, he’ll come. It’s just a matter of time.”
The colonel smiled at her. “Good work. I like it when my subordinates think on their feet.” He glanced at the soldiers busy converting the kitchen table to a mobile work area. “After you boys are set up, make sure this girl gets some dinner, will you?”
“Yes, sir!”
Dani glanced back at the window. She hoped Colt would understand. His life depended on it.
After a meal of another MRE and a bottle of water, Dani curled up in the papasan chair in the corner of the living room. With her hood pulled up over her head and a blanket draped across her middle, she could keep watch over the soldiers as they worked.
At first, they spoke in low, hushed voices, glancing up every few sentences to check on her. She never moved. Half an hour into her routine, they stopped paying her any mind. Their voices grew louder and Dani listened.
“So far the platoon has cleared sections one through seven.”
“How many casualties?” Colonel Jarvis stood beside the kitchen table, staring down at a large map. Dani couldn’t see it from across the room, but the way they talked, it had to be Eugene.
“Thirty-four, sir, if you include our own.”
Dani swallowed down her shock. Thirty-four people were dead? From what?
“Any riots? Pockets of organized resistance?”
“Not more than a few houses, sir. Over on Julep Street, a group of homeowners banded together and tried to hide in a cellar. The place had been stocked to the gills with canned goods and paper products.”
“Where are the homeowners now?”
The soldier paused. “Dead, sir.”
Dani shuddered and the colonel glanced her way. His voice dipped and she strained to hear the words. “Tell them to proceed with the remaining sectors. Once the neighborhoods have been disarmed, we can work on processing through the stores. The important thing is removing the weapons.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nothing the colonel said made sense. They were going door-to-door and disarming civilians? Why?
The colonel leaned over, his palms resting on the table. “How are we on converting the freshman dorms to housing?”
“Good, sir. The initial clear out is complete. Once we’ve added beds to a few rooms and shut down the bathrooms, we should be good to go.”
“Excellent. Start bringing in the eligible residents as soon as possible. The faster we can contain them in our environment, the easier they will be to control.”
“Sergeant Ferguson, talk to me about the fuel situation.”
“It’s going well, sir. We’ve drained all the cars within a two-mile radius and are expanding from there. We have enough supply to run the generators for about two months and all of our requisitioned vehicles.”
“We need more. Tell the supply soldiers to double their efforts.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dani clenched her fists beneath the blanket to keep from shaking. These weren’t orders from the state or the federal government. They couldn’t be. Stealing from the residents in town? Shooting those who resisted? Rounding everyone up and putting them in dorms?
She thought about all the lies they told. They weren’t relying on nearby wind turbines or helping keep the town safe. They were organizing a militia. A full-on military dictatorship with Colonel Jarvis in command. She had to warn Colt. They had to find a way to get out of there.
Chapter Twenty-Four
COLT
Eugene Corner Pharmacy
Eugene, Oregon
5:30 p.m.
Knife wounds hurt like an SOB. Colt leaned back against the exterior wall of the pharmacy, breathing in and out until the wave of pain passed and he could walk again. He’d made it about a half a mile carrying two packs and a barrage of weapons until the pain in his leg made walking impossible.
He stumbled inside and set his gear down, opting to keep a single rifle and his handgun on his body. The pharmacy looked the same as when they left it not that long before. Nothing in the town of Eugene, Oregon made sense. Why were some shops smashed up, but others fine? Where were all the people?
Why the hell did the army try to kill him? What did he ever do to them?
He groaned and kept walking. The tourniquet he’d fashioned out of belts worked well, but he needed to disinfect the wound and sew it shut. He hobbled into the back, using the still-standing shelves as support for his leg as he went. After at least half an hour of fruitless searching, he finally found what he needed: a suture kit.
He eased down onto the floor and exhaled. This part would suck. If he didn’t get the tourniquets off and the wound closed up, he’d be at risk for losing too much blood flow in his leg. Too long without adequate blood supply and his tissue would start to die. If that happened, he was done for. Not exactly a whole lot of surgeons around to cut off his leg or a working prosthetics department to make him a new one.
With a deep breath, Colt loosened the belt cinched across the wound. Hot searing pain flared from his thigh down, whooshing like hot lava through his muscles. He dropped the blood-soaked belt on the floor and eased the bandana and gauze away from the wound. As he pulled the skin apart, blood oozed thick and fresh from the cut.
He grimaced and grabbed the alcohol. The smell hit his nose as he opened it and Colt exhaled. The second the liquid hit the wound, he cried out, but he kept pouring, his hand shaking from the agony.
As the pain subsided, Colt took a look at the gash. It was deep, but straight into his quadriceps. It didn’t appear to puncture a major artery or twist and wreak internal damage. Thank God the soldier could only reach his leg.
If he’d stabbed him in the gut, Colt would be dead.
After disinfecting his hands, he tore open the suture kit and pulled out the needle. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been stitched up without anesthetic, but it would be the first time he’d done it to himself.
With agonizing slowness, Colt stitched the wound closed, jabbing the needle in one side and out the other, pausing only when he teetered on the verge of passing out. It took way too long, but he didn’t have a choice.
He stared at his leg. Expert tailor he was not. If it healed, he’d have a nasty scar. But he’d take the ugliest scar in the world if it meant he still had a serviceable leg.
After confirming the stitches would hold, Colt applied a fresh bandage and released the other belt still clamped around his upper thigh. The fresh injection of blood down his leg didn’t hurt this time and he leaned back against the wall in relief.
He’d been in situations like this before.
On his own. Wounded. Still on a mission.
But never in the United States and never against the supposed good guys.
All he could think about was Dani and where she was and what the army wanted with her. No matter how much she claimed to want to go with them, it didn’t sit right with Colt. After the ambush, he knew there was more to it.
Once he felt good enough to stand
, he made his way over to his pack, testing his leg. So far, so good. The stitches seemed to do their job. He changed out of his pants, opting for a new, non-blood-soaked pair, and popped an antibiotic pill from the stash he’d acquired in his earlier visit.
The whole afternoon, he’d been thinking. The town was too quiet. Even with the National Guard on patrol, people would be out milling about. Neighbors would be talking with neighbors. Shopkeepers would be trying to run their businesses. Instead, everyone hid like they were afraid to be seen.
Those men he passed on the street with Dani ran the second they were spotted. People didn’t act like that unless they were terrified. It could have been a reaction to the motorcycle gang; they sure seemed full of bravado. But Colt didn’t think so. It had to be the army.
Colt hoisted his pack onto his back, trying his best to avoid too much pressure on his injured leg. After grabbing the rest of his gear, he eased out of the pharmacy and back onto the road.
Opting for a side street, he hobbled down the sidewalk, passing cute little cottages with white picket fences and trailing flowers running up the mailboxes. Halfway down the street, a curtain in a front window fluttered. Colt stopped in front of the house.
Fresh paint, a well-tended flower garden. A welcome sign on the porch. A place where a neighbor would come out and say hello. Not today.
Colt kept walking. As he neared the end of the street, a little happy dog tore up between a pair of houses and stopped on the sidewalk. Its brown and gray fur looked a bit dull, but the tiny thing made up for it with a huge voice.
“Hey there.” Colt tried to talk to it. He’d never been good with dogs.
A woman rushed up, skirts billowing as she ran. “Lottie, come here! You can’t be out. You know that!”
“I think she likes me.”
The woman looked up from the sidewalk, her black hair falling over her face as she stared. She rose up without saying a word, but Colt held up his hand.
“Please, can I talk to you?”
She glanced around the street, eyes quick and fearful. “You shouldn’t be out here. No one is supposed to be out here.”
“I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“Where have you been?” She looked him over, pausing on the two backpacks and his beard. “Out in the wilderness?”
“The college campus.”
The woman’s eyes went wide and she clutched the little dog to her chest as she stood up. “Are you one of them?”
“Who?”
“The militia.”
“You mean the National Guard?”
She shook her head. “That’s what they say, but it can’t be true. Not after what they’ve done.”
Colt glanced around. “I was with a plane that crash-landed north of here. I hiked down to town and got buses for all the passengers. The National Guard put them up at the college.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying the National Guard has done something?”
Her lips thinned. “They aren’t the National Guard. They came through here last week, dragged all of us out of our homes. Confiscated all weapons, inventoried our food.” She glanced down at the little dog. “Took everyone’s pets.”
Colt’s eyes went wide. “They took animals?”
She nodded. “And they didn’t bring them back.”
Colt reeled. “Did they tell you all to stay inside?”
She nodded. “No one can be seen on the streets. If we’re caught talking, we’ll be taken away.” She stepped closer. “No one who’s ever taken away comes back.”
He needed to let her go. “Thank you for taking the chance to talk to me.” He held out his hand. “Colt Potter.”
She shook it. “Melody Harper.”
“If you ever need anything, Melody. I can help.”
Melody’s face pinched. “What can one man do?”
Colt smiled. A hell of a lot. “Take care.” He turned to go, more confident in his ability to make it to the apartment.
The National Guard unit had gone rogue. Now everything made sense. The patrols, the curfew, the refusal to let anyone leave the college campus. They were in the process of completing a military takeover of the entire town. In a few weeks, the entire town of Eugene would be working for Colonel Jarvis whether they liked it or not.
Colt needed to get to Dani’s apartment and regroup. If he could rest up and elevate his leg, he could come up with a plan.
The trek was slow going. He didn’t approach her street until the daylight dimmed and dusk set in. Maybe that’s why the light in the apartment caught his eye from so far away.
Colt pressed his body against the wall of the nearest building, hoping to shield himself from view. He squinted into the gloom. That’s Dani’s apartment.
Did they let her go already? He doubted it. But why else would someone be inside?
If it was Dani, why would she have a light on? Not only would it waste batteries, but she knew announcing her presence was dangerous. It was an open invitation to every potential thief and rapist across the city. Not that Colt has seen many of them out and about, but still.
He unzipped the day pack and pulled out a pair of binoculars. Bringing them into focus while he stared at the apartment, Colt spotted an X in the window. He pulled the binoculars down.
The first thing he thought of was The X-Files and how Mulder taped an X in the window when he needed help. Dani loved the show almost as much as he did. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Did she need help?
Colt brought the binoculars back up as a shadow passed in front of the glass. A man wearing army green. Shit. He walked back and forth like an officer on the parade deck, waiting to catch a boot enlisted man out of line. From the stance and weight and the way his arms were held behind his back, it could only be one man: Colonel Jarvis.
What was he doing inside Dani’s apartment? Colt kept watching, waiting for some sign of her. As he was about to give up, he spotted a little head in the window. A kid’s head.
Dani.
Shoving the binoculars back in his bag, Colt made a decision. He would find out exactly what the army was up to, why they wanted him dead, and just what the hell was going on up there in Dani’s apartment.
If she was in trouble, he would rescue her. It didn’t matter that she’d told him goodbye. He wouldn’t break his promise.
Chapter Twenty-Five
COLT
55 Houghton Street, Apartment 409
Eugene, Oregon
9:00 p.m.
It took Colt over two hours to find a suitable lookout, clear it, and set up his gear. But now he sat in the darkness, staring across the street at Dani’s apartment. The place glowed.
From his position about ten feet back from the window, Colt could see everything inside with his binoculars. Dani stayed curled up in the papasan chair in the corner underneath a blanket. He couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or not, but at least the soldiers left her alone.
Two young enlisted guys sat at the table, constantly pointing at pieces of paper spread across it and intermittently using handheld radios. Another soldier stood guard by the door.
The colonel paced. His presence surprised Colt. The man was in charge of the entire unit. Why he would take it upon himself to accompany Dani to the apartment, Colt didn’t have a clue. But he might be able to find out.
He picked up the handheld radio he’d stolen from the driver of the truck and turned it on. As long as he didn’t say anything, they wouldn’t know he was listening. He turned up the volume and waited.
“Echo 6 Romeo to Echo 7, radio check, over.”
Colt sat a bit straighter in the chair.
“Echo 7, copy. Ready and waiting instructions.”
“Proceed with house-by-house clearing in sector eight, nine, and ten. Transport all confiscated weapons and supplies to the loading bay. Over.”
“Request for clarification, Echo 6. If we encounter hostiles what is the protocol?”
The radio crackled.
“A
ll hostiles are to be eliminated on sight. No prisoners are authorized. Over.”
Colt blinked. It was true. They were going house to house like the woman from the street had said. Was there some rival gang? Were they trying to protect the town from criminals?
If they were fighting an opposing force, Colt could help. He didn’t need to be shot at. He wasn’t a bad guy. Maybe the sporting goods store had been one colossal misunderstanding. If that were true…
The radio crackled again. “Echo 7 to Echo 6 Romeo, request permission to speak with Echo 6. Over.”
Colt watched through his binoculars as one of the soldiers from the table stood up and walked over to Colonel Jarvis. He handed him the radio and the colonel brought it to his lips. “Echo 6.”
“Sir…” Muffled sounds of an argument filtered through the radio. “Sir, this is Sergeant Gunther and I know we aren’t supposed to question our orders, but these are residential sectors, sir.”
The colonel resumed his pacing. “Your point, Gunther?”
“These people deserve our protection, sir. If we drag them out of their houses in the middle of the night, how are we earning their trust?”
Colt pressed the binoculars so hard against his face the plastic dug into his eye sockets. They couldn’t be doing what it sounded like. Rounding up innocent civilians? The orders to kill couldn’t have been about civilian protesters, could they? It didn’t make sense.
The colonel spoke up. “How old are you, Sergeant Gunther?”
“Twenty-two, sir.”
“Do you want to live to be twenty-three?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you will kill every person who so much as looks at you funny out on that patrol. This isn’t about giving anyone protection or earning their trust. It’s about control. We own this town now and everything in it. If they want to stay alive, then they’ll do it under our good graces. Nothing more. Is that understood?”