"No. We're going to defend ourselves against anyone who decides to attack us. Questions that I can answer, I will answer. Accusations followed by fists will be answered only with violence."
Frank looked as if he wanted to say more, but his mind just didn't seem willing to aid him in his efforts. "I-"
"I've got a lot to do today, Frank. We're going to try digging that thing free. Pass the word around to any would-be mobs. No more mister nice guy. I mean it."
The soldier turned away, moving back towards his tent. Frank stood in the same spot, his glare drilling holes into Anderson's back, unmoving save for the bellows of his lungs gulping in air. After a moment, he slowly walked back towards his Mustang. Buck was leaning against his own car, looking as relaxed as ever. Sometimes Karen found herself wondering if Buck was even human. He almost never seemed fazed by anything.
Frank slumped against the hood of his car, his head low and his eyes staring at the asphalt. He reached into the shirt pocket of his khaki uniform and pulled out his cigarettes. After sticking the butt of one in his mouth and lighting it, he looked up again and locked his eyes with Buck's. "I want at least one officer out here from now on. Anyone wants to ask questions, that's just fine. They even look like they're gonna get into an argument about anything, I want it calmed down or I want that person in cuffs."
"What if it's more than one person?"
"Then I guess if we can't handle it, little Hitler over there can. All we can do is what we can do." Frank looked up at the sound of a car coming down the road, towards the soldiers' base of operations. The car belonged in a museum, not on the road. A massive Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, in mint condition. Lucas Brightman believed in traveling in style.
Lucas Brightman was always civil to Karen, but that did not mean she liked him in the least. Back when she and Pete were starting to fall apart, Brightman had offered her ex-husband a job. From the point when he accepted the man's offer, their rocky relationship had imploded. She'd always suspected Brightman was at least in part responsible.
When the car stopped, Brightman climbed slowly from the passenger's side and looked around the area with cold eyes. He nodded congenially to Karen, and then he moved over towards the police chiefs Mustang.
"How are you today, Frank?" The words were friendly, but the smile that accompanied them made Karen think of a piranha.
"I've had better days, Lucas. Hell, I've had better months."
The old man laughed heartily, moving closer with an almost serpentine grace. For some reason, the sight of Brightman in such a cheerful mood made Karen's throat tighten. "We should talk, Frank." The man looked towards Karen and then towards Buck. He placed a companionly old hand on Frank Osborn's shoulder. "But we should talk in private."
Frank looked at the man, his mouth twitched with a nervous tic. His eyes, looking too old for his face and exhausted beyond any possibility of repair, rolled around the area once, and then locked onto Brightman's car. "So why don't we go for a ride, Lucas?"
"I think that's a fine idea, Frank. Let's go for a ride." Karen watched as the old man led the police chief towards the Silver Cloud. For all the world, Brightman looked like he was gently handling an invalid.
She and Buck watched as they entered the back of the car and continued to stare as the massive antique rolled away.
A few seconds later, Buck said the very words that she'd been thinking. "Why do I get the feeling that Frank's making a deal with the devil?"
" 'Cause I think he's about to, Buck. God help us all, I think he's about to."
5
Though it took some prodding on her part, Karen was eventually able to get Buck to tell her what had happened to the Colonel's soldiers. They'd been killed and mutilated. While a part of her was surprised by. the actions-one murder she'd heard about, but the mutilations were still a surprise-it took her almost no time at all to come up with a list of potential suspects.
The list was longer than she would have guessed before starting on her little project. One of the advantages of a small town was simply knowing everyone. Karen, a school teacher and regular at the Lutheran Church in town, knew more about most people than they would have ever guessed. Throughout the school year she overheard conversations between the children, tales of their daily lives that included knowledge of their families and their friends. Even her father, the pastor at the church, admitted that most of the regulars there were almost as gossipy as hens. Two twelve-year-olds couldn't share a first kiss without half the town knowing about it within a day.
So she knew just who had been in the military and who knew how best to hunt. She could guess at those in town who were most likely to chafe under Anderson's rule. She wrote their names in a neat, orderly script across three pages of green stationery. It wasn't very hard and, within an hour or so, she'd come up with what she considered the top one hundred most likely candidates in town. Pete was near the top of the list, not that she'd expected anything different. The scary part to her was that the list, long as it was, was nowhere near complete. It couldn't be complete when there were so many strangers in town. For all she knew, Maurice and Joan Dansky were international terrorists, and Dutch Armbruster and Becka were drug runners. Not that she believed any of that to be the case, but she couldn't tell for certain.
Still, it would have to do. Karen grabbed her purse, and moved towards the door, stopping only long enough to rub Roughie's belly. The mutt was a belly slut. He'd roll on his back and expose his stomach to perfect strangers, all in the hopes of getting a proper stomach scratch. If a burglar ever came into the house, Karen knew she was doomed. The dog would likely help the robber find his way around as long as there was a belly rub in the bargain. Not that burglars bothered her much in Collier. Not nearly as much as Pete did.
Thinking about Pete, Karen left the house, heading for the Hav-A-Feast Diner. Laurie Johnson would listen to her, and maybe even manage to talk her out of betraying the people of Collier. She hoped so. She truly hoped so. Even thinking about what she was giving serious consideration to doing with the list was enough to make her want to be ill. Did Benedict Arnold think he was doing the right thing? she asked herself. Did Judas think he was handling matters in the best way? Karen traveled slowly, her thoughts dark and worrisome. Was she doing what was best for everyone in town? Or was she being a coward and a traitor? Her mind said one thing; her heart had an entirely different opinion.
6
Laurie was puffing furiously at a Tarryton, wiping the stainless steel tables in the kitchen in a vain attempt to get them cleaner than they already were. Karen tried to help twice, and both times Laurie stopped her. "You eat when you're nervous, Karen. I clean when I'm nervous." After Laurie said that, Karen left it alone.
The Hav-A-Feast was closed for the night. Despite the fact that the sun was still up, Laurie closed early and went back to her trailer in the back of the place by eight p.m. on any given night. Her reasoning was solid. "I don't need any men in armor loading me with extra bullets on my way home. And even with my house right back there, some idiot would do it." Despite her cheerful smile for everyone, Laurie was a born pessimist. Karen never had quite figured out that aspect of her girlfriend's personality.
Laurie tossed the dirty rag over her shoulder. The discarded cloth landed in the garbage flawlessly. The cigarette butt she crushed into an ashtray already in danger of overflowing. Karen looked over at Martin Harper, the line cook and person actually in charge of cleaning the kitchen area. Martin was scrubbing furiously at the stainless-steel grill, scraping another day's worth of caked-on food from the surface with a spatula. From time to time he'd pause long enough to pour a few more ounces of soda water across the hot metal surface before starting again. He claimed the soda water lifted the grease and food, but Karen was certain he just liked watching the fluid boil and evaporate. Martin was one of the few men in town with hair long enough to put into a ponytail. He was also one of the meanest cooks in town. If the flabby cook hadn't been friends with the entire poli
ce force, someone would likely have helped him cut his hair a long time back.
Martin looked up and waved briefly before going back to his scrubbing. He did not offer a smile, and in all the time she'd known him, Karen couldn't recall the man ever smiling. He was an oddity, but he was a nice oddity.
"Are you listening to anything I'm saying?" Laurie's voice finally registered in Karen's ears.
"I'm sorry, Laurie. I was off in La-La Land again."
Laurie smiled tightly, another cigarette in her mouth and a broom in her hands. "Nothin'to apologize for. I just wanted to know if you'd heard about Arnetta."
"No, what about her?"
"Frank has her sitting behind bars."
"What?" Karen focused all of her attention on the present, forgetting for the moment that she wanted to discuss something with Laurie as soon as Martin left for the night. "What on earth for?"
"Flappin' her gums too much. He said with the way she's spreadin' rumors, it's only a matter of time before she incites a riot."
Karen thought about that for a moment and nodded. "She just might, too. I was at the lake with Buck when news of them finding Marty Wander's bike finally spread around town. Arnetta's darned lucky no one was angry enough to start anything. I think if it'd been Frank there, instead of Buck, there might have been some people getting themselves shot."
"It wasn't all that bad, was it?" Laurie sounded skeptical.
"No. There was only about ten people all together who showed up while I was there. I think they were more curious than angry. The bike's in perfect shape, and the government boys left it where they found it, just so people won't start blaming them for everything. That's my guess at least. I think the soldiers are afraid to touch it. Besides, they were mostly trying to dig around the edge of that ship out there."
"You're talkin' about too many subjects again. I don't see how you manage to teach anyone anything as a teacher if you're always talking about five things at the same time."
"My students learn. They just have to keep up with me, that's all." Karen hopped up on the edge of the table Laurie'd just finished cleaning to death, narrowly avoiding the broom that her friend used to attack the floor. There was no dirt to be found, but Laurie was sweeping again anyway.
"Anyway, Frank said he'd had enough of her blabbing mouth, so he locked her up. Said he'd think about letting her out after the soldiers clear out."
Karen stared hard at the floor beneath her feet, as if the broken tiles and browning grout might hold the answers to life's mysteries. "Do you think they'll just leave, Laurie? Do I you think they'll dig up their ship and then just take off?"
"Want the truth?"
Karen nodded.
"Yeah, I think they will. I think they'll finish their job and leave."
"Why?"
" 'Cause it'd be too much work to take us all with them, and too much work to hide all the bodies if they decided to kill us."
"I don't think they will." Karen frowned, feeling the muscles in her neck tense up as she prepared to speak. "I think they're being too secretive to let us go." Karen looked up as Laurie stopped working and turned to face her. The cigarette in Laurie's thin, hard mouth defied gravity, holding on to an ash that drooped away from the main tobacco stick as if the compressed soot were held in place by Krazy Glue.
"What do you think they're gonna do, Kari? Lock us all away for the rest of our lives?"
"I don't know. I just don't think we're all getting out of this alive."
"They got away in that town in New Mexico… Roswell, that's what it was called."
"I saw those specials too, Laurie. But this is different."
Laurie sighed, already growing impatient with Karen. She was fast to grow tired with any subject she didn't approve of. "All right, I'll take the bait. Why is this different?"
"Most of that town never saw anything. Most of this town has seen too much."
"Good point. But what can they do with us?"
"I'm not sure, but I think I can find out."
"How?" Now Laurie sounded weary.
Karen looked to Martin, who was now trying to clean out the grease traps without spilling the waste all over the floor. He was far too intent on his work to be eavesdropping. "I'm gonna give that Colonel a list of who I think is doing the killings. Maybe in exchange for that he'll find a way to keep us all alive."
Laurie coughed hard, hacking as if she'd swallowed the wrong way. "That might not be too smart, sweetie. What are you gonna do if somebody finds out? Somebody on that list, maybe?"
"I'm going tonight, after the curfew."
"Didn't they say they were gonna shoot violators of the curfew?"
"I'm counting on them being liars."
"Why don't you go now, or in the morning?" Laurie sounded genuinely concerned.
" 'Cause if I do that, somebody might see me." She sighed, trying to find the right words to explain her logic. "Somebody might put two and two together."
"What if you get caught by the folks doing the killings?"
"Then I'm counting on me being a local as enough to keep me safe."
"Kari, honey? What if Pete's one of them?"
"Then I'm in deep trouble any way you want to look at it. But I've got to try, Laurie. I don't know, maybe if I take Roughie with me, he can warn me of trouble."
"And maybe that big ol' mutt of yours will see a cat and drag you halfway across town again."
"There is that risk," Karen admitted.
"So, it's settled then. I'll go with you."
"Oh, Laurie. I can't ask that of you."
"You ain't askin'. I'm tellin' you. There's a difference."
"But-"
"No buts. I figure you're less likely to get attacked if there are two of us. Besides, If it gets too nasty with anyone, it's best to have someone covering your butt."
Ten minutes later, those minutes spent in idle conversation that was forced and strained, Martin said his good-nights and went off towards his home. If he'd heard any of what they were talking about, he hid it well.
Despite several more protests on the part of Karen, Laurie went with her into the darkening night. She also made a point of showing Karen the knife she carried in her purse.
Somehow, they never got around to picking up Roughie before they left.
7
The sun set fast, and after that the biggest threats to Karen and Laurie were the mosquitoes. The little vampires were everywhere, and they seemed to find Karen's blood particularly flavorful.
The town was silent. Inside the houses they passed, Karen could hear conversation or the sound of televisions and canned laughter, but there were no cars on the road, and no people walking the streets. Normally, this time of year you couldn't walk down a street without someone waving or calling out your name. That was one of the best parts of living in Collier; no matter where you went, you almost always felt safe.
Right now that just wasn't the case. There were soldiers on the streets, silent black monitors with orders to kill. And there was Pete. Pete was in town, somewhere, and she knew her life would never be the same if he caught her out here by herself. Even having Laurie along added no comfort. Pete was normally the type to have backup if things didn't go the way he wanted them to go. Dutch was a nice man, and she was grateful for his help at the Piggly Wiggly, but he had been lucky that day. Pete hadn't planned on running across her. If he had, there'd have been nothing Dutch or anyone else could have done about it.
Laurie was breathing hard on her left, and, aside from the sound of a few nocturnal bugs, that was the only noise in the immediate vicinity. The lights in the closed houses did nothing to make Karen feel less exposed.
They walked down Providence Lane, which ran parallel to Millwater Street. Providence Lane was narrower and provided better cover. With four blocks to go until they reached Roswell Avenue and the Colonel's base of operations, they let themselves relax a litde. They dared speak to each other, if only in whispers.
Laurie spoke first. "It's n
ot too late to turn around, honey. We could go back to my place and get drunk instead of doing this." Her voice was a murmur, but might as well have been a scream. Karen nearly wet her underwear when her friend spoke. She clutched at her chest and gasped for breath.
"Are you trying to give me a stroke?" Karen demanded, her own voice an angry hiss. "I told you before, I'm fine doing this on my own. You don't have to be here, and you don't have to be involved in all of this nonsense."
"Sure I do. That's what friends are for."
"Well, then don't complain about it."
Laurie opened her mouth to speak. Someone else beat her to it. "Good evening, ladies. Please place your hands above your heads and turn around, slowly." The voice was a buzzing threat, and seemed thunderous in comparison to their own hushed tones.
Laurie said, "Oh, shit on it," and raised her arms. Karen followed suit when she was certain her heart wasn't actually going to erupt from her throat.
When she turned, she saw the two armored men facing them. Both were completely in the shadows, and had not moved at all as she and Laurie walked past. How she'd missed the sounds of them swinging their rifles around was something she could not fathom. The soldiers moved forward and one of them moved his firearm off to the side as he came within touching distance. "If either of you move, my friend over there will shoot you. That's not a matter of choice; those are our orders." The soldier closest to them touched the jawline of his helmet and then turned his head slightly. After a moment in that position, he nodded and then turned towards them again.
The man patted his hands down Laurie's sides and then across her front and back. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Laurie's tone was one part relieved and one part shocked. The man did not answer. He grabbed her purse and began sorting through the contents without any hesitation. When he was done, he'd removed her steak knife, her lighter and the perfume she carried.
Karen steeled herself for whatever the man might do to her. He ran his hands lightly down her sides, and then down her front and back. He did not linger. He acted exactly the same as he would if he were frisking a man. When he was done he searched her bag and removed her perfume, her pepper spray and her hairspray. Her heart was pounding as if she'd just run three miles, and the inside of her mouth was completely dry.
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