“That’s a rather unusual word for a young person,” McGinley said. “She sounds smart as a whip, Nate. Like father, like daughter.”
Nate grinned without correcting his friend. Dakota noticed it too, the corners of her lips rising into an expression of happiness.
“I don’t want to worry you more than you already are,” Nate said, taking a deep breath. “But the nuclear plant in Byron and one or two others nearby have gone into full meltdown. My brother Evan was caught up in it and is sitting in a hospital inside the exclusion zone.”
Doris’ hand went over her mouth.
“Seems this was all part of their plan,” he went on. “To burrow their way into the most sensitive and vulnerable areas of American life and tear us apart from the inside out.”
“A few days back, a young couple from Byron came through,” McGinley said. “Woman named Jessie and her boyfriend Doogie. Told us nearly the same thing and I’m ashamed to say I didn’t believe them. Hey, what is it?”
“The woman, did she smell of vodka?”
The chief nodded. “Sure did. It’s why I didn’t believe her story. Why, you know them?”
Dakota also regarded him questioningly.
“I met her on the road,” Nate said, relieved Doogie had finally come along. “It’s a long story.” He decided to change topics. “Is there any chance you saw a convoy of school buses come through here on its way to Chicago?”
The corners of McGinley’s mouth tilted downward. “I’m not su―”
“Yes, one did,” Doris interjected. “Came by a few days ago.”
Nate’s ears perked up and for the first time in days he felt a ray of hope envelop him.
“They tried getting into the shelters around town and were shooed away on account of them places being all filled up,” Doris told him. “I noticed too they’d added some kind of wedge-shaped plow to the lead bus, to help push aside the snow. It’s what gave us the idea for our own plows.”
Hadn’t he seen such a plow tearing down the street after being chased from Jay’s front porch?
Nate felt that heavy weight settling back on top of him. If it had been physical rather than emotional weight, it surely would have buckled his trick knee. Regardless, he didn’t bother mentioning his family was on one of those buses. Slowly, Nate brought the conversation back to the reason they’d come here in the first place.
“So when was the last time you saw him?” Nate asked.
“Who, Jay?” McGinley asked. “Oh, I don’t know. Day or two before the blackout. Why?”
Nate’s gaze fell to the scuffed winter boots on McGinley’s feet. “I don’t think this is simply a case of theft. I know for a fact Jay would never have left that truck of his behind. I have a feeling the lowlifes who stole his house might have also taken his life.”
McGinley stood there, nodding slowly. “So I take it you want me to go down there and arrest them?”
Nate’s face darkened. “To be tried in what court?”
“That’s the dilemma, isn’t it? What do you want then?”
He folded his arms over his chest. “A temporary badge. Swear me in under the Illinois Emergency Act. I’ll go find out what they did with Jay.”
“And if they’re guilty, what precisely will you do with them?” That thin layer of sweat was building along McGinley’s brow again.
Nate’s reply was short and starkly to the point. “Pray to God they resist arrest.”
Chapter 11
Nate caught a lift back to Jay’s house with Ralph “Crazy Horse” Sullivan in the retrofitted snowplow. True to his name, Ralph had been the one they’d seen earlier, cutting a swath through the deep powder clogging Marengo’s streets.
As requested, Chief McGinley had made Nate an auxiliary police officer, a position that had been around in Illinois for decades. The temporary badge dangling from the chain around his neck provided a sense of legitimacy. For all intents and purposes, he had been deputized and was eager to find out what those people had done to Jay. It was a job that would take skill and precision. Like any craftsman, Nate had brought along his tools. The H&K G36 was his primary weapon. For backup he would rely on two pistols—his main pistol, a SIG Sauer P320, and his ‘when all else fails’ gun, a Glock 19 he’d grabbed from the police armory.
Much to Dakota’s displeasure, the chief had agreed to keep an eye on the girl. He had also said he would try to find a mechanic to look at the snowmobile.
Nate watched the plow’s windshield wipers flicking back and forth at lightning speed. Outside, a cloud of snow sprayed into the air on either side of them as they pushed through. They were going a good clip. The radio wasn’t working, but that didn’t stop Ralph from singing along to the radio in his head.
“Hit me, baby, one more time,” he shouted, giving the horn a playful little honk with each lyric. “Don’t you worry, Officer Bauer,” Ralph said with a wink. “The Beast and I will get you over there in no time.”
“Beast?”
Ralph tapped the top of the steering wheel. “Just look at the way she annihilates this stuff. Doesn’t matter the consistency. Fluffy or hard, it’s all the same to her. A regular snowplow couldn’t handle stuff this deep. Made a few modifications after those school buses came roaring through town. Good ideas like that are meant to be shared, that’s what I say. Not that I wouldn’t have come up with something similar myself. I seen trains use ’em before. They call ’em snow wedges. They use ’em to keep the tracks clear after a big snowfall. Mark my words, if this weather keeps up the way it’s been, don’t be surprised if you start seeing more and more of these things. Only thing you gotta watch out for is buried cars in the middle of the road. Wasn’t for that, I’d be going a lot faster.”
Nate found that hard to imagine. “The Beast is impressive,” he said instead.
“And those wipers,” Ralph said, flashing that grin again. “Couldn’t help seeing you admiring them too.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever seen any go that fast before.”
Winking, Ralph said: “I tweaked the motor. Managed to squeeze some extra torque out of the old girl. Now flakes don’t stand a chance. But once the power comes back on, I was thinking of getting one of those spinning portholes they use on ships. It’s like a window that rotates. You can throw a bucket of water at it and it won’t block your vision one bit. Damn thing just shrugs it off.”
Nate wanted to tell Ralph not to hold his breath. That the power wasn’t coming back on any time soon. And yet he found that his lips wouldn’t let him form the words. Maybe it was because a large part of Nate agreed with the crazy snowplow driver’s optimism, however naïve it might be. It was an attitude that had helped get Nate through many challenging patches in his life. Maybe he just wasn’t willing to give up on watching for signs of a rainbow after the storm.
Swallowing his many concerns, Nate instead said: “Can’t wait to see that.”
“No kidding. When I was―” Ralph jerked the wheel. The Beast fishtailed, tossing the two men around in their seats. “You see that?” The driver’s complexion had suddenly become three shades paler.
Nate looked out the pickup’s back window. “What’d I miss?”
“A freaking wolf. That’s what you missed. Was standing right in the middle of the road. Woulda hit it too if I wasn’t such an ace driver.”
“Shadow,” Nate said, under his breath.
“Come again?”
Nate shook his head. “Never mind.” They pulled onto Jay’s street and Ralph brought the truck to a crawl. Nate checked the time on the console. “Four thirty,” he said, thankful for the approaching darkness. “Can you swing by every ten minutes? I’ll come outside if I see you.”
“How about this?” Ralph said, reaching into the back seat and producing two walkie-talkies. “I got an adaptor that plugs right into the car battery, so they’re topped up. I’m gonna keep making my rounds, and you just holler when you’re ready.”
The two shook hands and Nate stepped back int
o the cold.
He walked down a neighbor’s driveway, hopping over a low fence. Unlike the last time, Nate knew better than to walk up to the front door and start knocking. A move like that was an invitation for those inside to start shooting. Without a proper SWAT team, he’d get himself killed. Then he and Jay would both be dead, and the raspy-voiced woman and her rail-thin boyfriend would get away with whatever they had done. No, instead he opted to cut through the adjacent yards, making his way to the back of Jay’s house.
Arriving at the fence line, Nate stopped to scout around. The kitchen window overlooked the backyard. He spotted the flicker from a single candle inside the house. They appeared to be home, but that was hardly a surprise. It wasn’t like they’d be out for dinner and a movie. What it suggested was what part of the house they were in.
Rolling over the top of the fence, Nate landed in powder and crossed the open yard. He remembered coming over for a barbeque last summer and Jay pointing at the back of the house and outlining all the new renovations he was planning. The visual sharpened in Nate’s mind, along with the basement window close to where he was standing. He pushed his hand under the snow and ran it along the wall until he felt where the concrete gave way to glass. The next few minutes were spent clearing access to the window.
Suddenly a noise to his left made him turn, pistol drawn.
Shadow licked the barrel, staring up at him with shimmering green eyes.
“Hey, buddy, you nearly got yourself killed.”
Shadow stared back, the animal’s head bobbing as Nate spoke. If he didn’t know any better, he could swear the animal was processing his words, maybe even attempting to figure out what he was saying.
“You speak English, don’t you? Well, I hope you do because this isn’t your fight, my friend, although I appreciate the offer of help. Now you better go.”
The wolf turned to leave.
“And for heaven’s sake, stay out of the road, will you?”
This time Shadow didn’t look back. Nate watched the majestic creature round the corner, hoping he wouldn’t follow them any further. He belonged out in the wild with other wolves. Not with people and certainly not in a city like Marengo and least of all in Chicago.
Shortly, Nate returned to the task at hand, dropping to one knee and jamming an elbow into the basement window. It let out a muffled crack as the glass broke and fell to the floor. Carefully, Nate reached in and undid the latch. From there, he lifted it open and slid inside.
Prodding the ground with one boot, Nate came in on top of a washing machine, fallen glass crunching under his weight. He drew his pistol and activated the tactical light attached at the bottom, sweeping the room before him. The space was small, less than five feet in either direction. Along one wall was a washer-dryer as well as a shelf with detergent and cleaning supplies. Nate climbed off the machine and pushed through to the door into what looked like a screening room still under construction. This latest addition didn’t surprise Nate one bit. Jay sure did love him some movies. Nate stopped and listened for anyone else. The house was quiet. On the plus side, at least that meant no one had heard him break in.
A long hallway led from the movie room, curving to the left. Nate followed it, trying to remember where the door was that led upstairs. Entering in such an unusual way had left him a little disoriented. Stalking purposely down the hallway, his weapon covering the space before him, Nate caught the unmistakable odor of decomposition.
He swore under his breath, emotions of sadness and anger building up within him simultaneously. The prospect of placing the people he’d met yesterday under arrest now seemed so remote, so unnecessary. If they had killed his friend and left him down here to rot while they carried on in his house as if it was theirs, there was only one remedy for that sort of crime. Nate tightened the grip on his SIG as he came to a fork in the path. To his left was a door, to his right the staircase leading to the main floor.
He was about to head upstairs when he heard the sound of someone coughing in the other room. He paused and listened. When it came again, he was suddenly sure it was coming from the room behind him. Turning the handle, Nate flung open the door and froze, for a split second unable to process what he was seeing. Multiple sets of eyes were staring back at him from gaunt and pale faces. Then came that same odor again, a sudden and violent assault on his olfactory senses. His hand shot up to cover his nose.
The room was filled with a dozen people, all of them sitting on a cold concrete floor. The same number of chains had been looped through metal rings in the exposed ceiling beams, stretching down to each of those imprisoned here.
“What the hell is going on here?” he whispered in horror, more to himself than to the frightened figures huddled before him.
Swinging his light around, Nate saw that two of the twelve were dead, their decomposition slowed only slightly by the cold. Still, the sight was enough to make him gag.
“Help us,” a weak voice called out.
The chains from the ceiling had been wrapped around their waist below the ribcage and secured with padlocks. It also appeared they’d been cinched to prevent escape as they had lost weight.
“Who did this to you?”
A young, but haggard-looking woman stuck a finger in the air, pointing to the sound of feet now clomping around upstairs.
Breathing hard, Nate flicked his light up to the ceiling. He wasn’t going to be able to unlock these chains without finding the keys or cutting them down. Either way, that meant first going upstairs and taking out the psychos who’d kidnapped these poor souls.
“Nate?” The voice was weak, groggy, but he recognized it all the same.
“Jay?” Nate swung the light around. “The heck happened here, man?”
His friend’s normally round, jovial cheeks now hung sallow about his face like dirty sheets spilling over an unmade bed. “Those people, they’re insane,” Jay told him, drawing on all the energy he could muster. “You gotta get us outta here.”
Nate’s G36 assault rifle was too long and bulky to be used inside the house. He opted to continue with the SIG, holding it before him as he left what felt like a medieval prison and headed for the stairway leading to the main floor.
He reached the top riser and listened. There was only silence coming from the other side of the door. Gripping the handle, he turned and entered the kitchen. On a cluttered counter, a propane camping stove warmed a skillet filled with chunks of raw meat. Some of the meat still had tufts of fur. A sliding glass door off the kitchen looked out onto a wooden deck, currently covered in snow. Except lying on the snow was the carcass of a deer. Large sections of its body had been crudely carved up. These people were worse than Neanderthals. Butchering an animal like this would bring shame to anyone calling themselves a hunter. The animal should have been gutted and cleaned and hung upside down to let the blood drain. Although considering what they were hiding in the basement, this was clearly the least of their problems.
He spun on his heels and headed for the living room. The place looked trashed, as though someone had mistakenly left a door open and a family of raccoons had taken up residence. They’d clearly gone through Jay’s carefully organized and substantial pantry, tossing aside wrappers and packaging at will. Strangely, what hit him hardest seeing the house in such a state of disarray was knowing what a clean freak Jay was. His friend’s house looked and smelled like a slum. And Nate wasn’t sure whether in Jay’s weakened state, he should be allowed to see what it had become.
Nate was in the midst of pivoting from the living room toward the stairs when a door opened next to him. He had thought it was a broom closet, but it was a bathroom. A woman jerked with surprise, the same person who had answered the door earlier and shooed him away. Her eyes flared as she stepped back, clutching her chest.
In the blink of an eye, Nate had the pistol trained on her. “Scream and you’re dead.” If she doubted his warning, all she needed was to look in his eyes—dark pools of deep loathing. They deserved to d
ie, but Nate still hadn’t lost enough of his humanity to execute them on the spot. “Where’s the man I saw earlier?”
“He’s gone,” she said, her lips pulling back from a mouth with few teeth.
Nate cold-cocked her with the pistol. It struck the side of her face with a wet slap and a crack. Her head snapped to one side and her knees went weak. He reached out with his free hand to keep her standing. She fell back against the bathroom door, pushing it closed. A trail of blood ran down the side of her face.
Nate was about to ask her again when a voice echoed down to them from the second floor. “Biscuit, you all right? Sounded like you fell.”
The woman glared at Nate with hatred so tangible he could feel it oozing out of her.
“Tell him you’re fine, that you want to show him something.”
From upstairs, worried now: “Biscuit?”
“Tell him,” Nate said, putting the barrel to her forehead.
The toothless woman drew in a deep breath, resigned to her fate. “Skinny, get your gun and come shoot this mother―”
Nate pulled the trigger. The room exploded with a deafening bang as the woman’s head snapped back, this time for good. She crumpled to the floor with a loud thud.
Then footsteps upstairs running down a hall, away from the stairs.
It sounded like Skinny was taking Biscuit’s advice and getting his gun. What that might be Nate didn’t know. If he could get upstairs quick enough, he might be able to drop this lowlife before he got a chance to throw any lead.
Nate took the risers two at a time. The top step opened onto a narrow corridor, twenty feet in length. This had been the favorite part of Jay’s many house tours as he’d recounted the trials and tribulations of knocking down walls and laying down pine floorboards.
Since then, it had gone from a conversation piece to a possible kill zone. Nate poked his head out for a quick glance. One bedroom lined either side. The master bedroom was at the end of the darkened hallway. At least that was the layout as Nate remembered it. But the lack of light wasn’t on account of the sun going down. It was still early afternoon and that wouldn’t be happening for a couple more hours. The blinds had been pulled down in nearly every room. Whatever was going on here, Skinny and Biscuit wanted to keep it hidden. Now that same criminal desire for privacy meant Nate would be forced to charge headfirst down a narrow hallway with no sense of what was waiting for him at the other end.
America Offline (Book 2): America Offline [System Failure] Page 8