by Hunt, Jack
The father snagged up the Benjamin Franklins off the counter. “I’ll still want to see what you’ve taken before you leave.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Colby replied.
Alicia watched with curiosity as he went down the aisles filling a backpack with a first-aid kit, a multi-tool, a few bottles of water, dehydrated meals, protein bars, small flashlights, 25 feet of cord, Gorilla tape, a wind-up radio, several BIC lighters and a few blankets.
They weren’t far from Koreatown now, and once the noise died down they would head out, make it to Daisy’s and collect whatever the hell she needed before going over to Manny’s and getting paid. From there he’d head home and ride it out for a day or two to see where the situation went.
That thought had just passed through his mind when he heard what sounded like glass shattering. “Colby!” Daisy bellowed before a gun erupted.
NINE
JESSIE
Humboldt County
His cheek stung from the slap to the face. Jessie knew calling his mother out was risky but he had to know the truth. The irony was she lashed out not because he’d questioned her involvement in the death of Ryland Strickland — a murder that had led to the death of their father — but because he’d killed Trent.
Standing in an octagon-shaped kitchen that was just a sliver of the huge home nestled in the hills above Alderpoint, he felt the burn of embarrassment as his brothers looked on, each of them still afraid of their mother’s wrath. “You completely went against my instructions. Four days out of the clink and you want to do this to us?” His mother poured out two fingers of bourbon, downed it, and slammed the glass hard on the counter. She drank like a fish and could drink any man under the table. It was rare to see her without a glass in hand.
Martha Riker drew an exasperated breath as she ran a hand through her silver dreadlocks. A love child of the ’60s, she was ten years younger than their father, a fierce-looking woman with bronzed skin, and eyes as blue as an Arctic wolf. In the thirty-five years he’d been alive, he hadn’t seen her wear anything but colorful bohemian dresses. Dripping with gold — hooped earrings, a nose stud, and one too many bangles around her wrist — she sauntered around the kitchen island at the heart of the room like she was the commander of a military ship.
“What did you expect me to do?” He asked.
“I expected you to wait. We bury your father and then discuss what we will do. Now we’ll have the cops snooping around here, looking for answers.” She slammed her fist against the solid wood countertop. “I can’t believe you didn’t think this through.”
“I tried to tell him,” Dylan said, shaking his head.
“Oh shut up. You three are as bad as him. Now, where did you put the body?”
“Out by Keith Hardy’s property. I figured if they found it, they would point the finger at him. He’s had issues with Trent for years. Everyone knows that.”
She got close to Jessie and smiled, running a loving hand around his face. That was the thing about her. One moment she could be as dangerous as a viper, the next, as gentle as a dove. It was very Jekyll and Hyde. “Maybe you aren’t such a moron, after all.”
Jessie raised an eyebrow. “So?”
“So what?”
He roamed his brothers’ faces, hoping they might back him up. “Are you responsible?”
“Jessie. You might have inherited your father’s impulsive nature but even you are smarter than that. Purposely killing Ryland would have put the Stricklands at odds with us. You know that. I know that. After ten years, why would I do that? Huh?”
He shrugged. “Trent seemed pretty clear. What reason would he have to lie?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because your father physically removed him from this property. Use your head, my boy. Can’t you see what he was doing? What they are doing? They want us to be at odds with one another. A house divided cannot stand. If there is one thing I will not see happen, it is this family divided. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yeah, but—”
She slapped the counter with a hand. “No buts. We have bigger things to deal with right now like this blackout, and Dylan’s vehicle. It better not still be there…” She wagged a finger in his face. “Or your smart plan to bury Trent on Keith’s property won’t work, now will it?”
“I had TJ and Woody take the old truck to tow it out.”
“Very good. Now tomorrow we will bury your father, after that, we will discuss what will be done about the Stricklands.”
He nodded.
Zeke chimed in. “Is it true Colby’s returning?”
She narrowed her eyes. Jessie knew that her mother was fond of Colby. He believed she favored him above them all.
“When it comes to Colby nothing is a guarantee,” she replied, picking up a piece of pineapple and taking a bite. “Forget about your brother and focus on your family here. If this is what I believe it is, life is about to get really difficult. Now, we’ve got enough flour, rice, pasta, and canned goods in storage to last us a good three months but we’ll need more which means you all need to head into town and gather up what you can before they clean out the stores.”
“But without power, they won’t be open.”
“Who said anything about paying?” She offered back a wicked grin. They all knew what that meant. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d taken without asking. Their family like the Stricklands didn’t dance to the rhythm of law and order the way others might. It was wrong. There was no doubt about that but they knew no better. Raised on the mountain, they soon learned that the police rarely ventured up or handled matters. That’s why it struck him as odd that the Stricklands would want one of their own as the sheriff unless they were looking to bring an end to the Rikers and his father’s death was the beginning. “With Dan Wilder in office, he’ll give preference to Hank and his family. He’ll batten down the hatches on the stores. This means we need to strike while the iron is hot, while people are confused, get in and get out. Do you understand me? This is about survival now.”
“And what if the power comes back on?” Jessie asked.
“It won’t. This isn’t a common power outage, my boy.” Their mother wasn’t one for explaining how she knew. Her word was gospel and God forbid they went against it. Still, even he could see she was struggling to control them. What had worked well in their twenties was different now. He was different. Three years inside had deprogrammed him, giving him a way to see how easily swayed they were.
Despite his opposition to Colby leaving, and his inability to understand why he could see it now. It kind of made sense. A new life. Out from under their parents. The truth was any one of them could have left at the age of eighteen but guilt, manipulation, and family had always been used to keep their minds occupied. “Why would you want to leave when you have everything you need here?” their mother would say. “Where would you go? How would you support yourself? Here you can live like kings but out there you are on your own.” Tell a kid that long enough and it becomes ingrained. They begin to doubt their ability to stand on their own two feet, to think for themselves, to create a life for themselves. But Colby had done it. Jessie knew very little about his life outside of the county. Miriam was the only one that had contacted him, and she’d only spoken to him a few times. Los Angeles. He’d gone to the big city. What he did for a living was unknown but Jessie knew Colby was resourceful. He was like a cat. He always landed on his feet.
“Well don’t just stand here, jump to it,” she said, clapping her hands and walking off.
“And you?”
“I have things to attend to.”
“And how do you expect us to get into Garberville?”
She tossed him several sets of keys.
“Take the ATVs to Alby’s. They’ll still work.”
“And how do you figure that if every other vehicle has died?”
She turned and smiled. “You have a lot to learn, Jessie.” She drummed her fingers against the door frame.
“If you want electronics to survive, you place them inside a Faraday cage. There is a reason why the ATVs and UTVS are stored in a specially designed metal garage. It’s one big walk-in Faraday cage that shields the electronics from strong electromagnetic pulses. You’ll find walkie-talkies in there, and several generators. Get them out, we’ll be needing them all.”
Once she was out of the room Jessie stood there for a moment, wondering again how she’d managed to slide under the wire. She always had a way of talking herself out of any accusation. It was her wits. She was and always had been the brains of the family.
He walked out, his brothers followed.
A bright moon shone down on the Rikers’ property.
The central home was one of many on the land. All of the structures were linked together by long walkways. He’d seen it once from above in a helicopter when they were trying to get a better idea of how cops might spot their grow. It resembled a bicycle wheel with the main house at the center and spokes going out to various cabins that his brothers and sisters lived in. Its design reflected the connection of family and the control she’d held for so long. Their mother liked it that way. Keeping them close.
Meanwhile, their uncles, aunts, and cousins were spread throughout Alderpoint, Garberville, and Eureka. They were the eyes and ears of the Riker family. Like scouts sent farther out to send back word.
Here, it was like a damn commune.
Originally they had no more than forty acres, but now they owned over two hundred acres nestled in the dense forest. Most of the veiny dirt roads leading up to their place were unpaved. It had been created that way on purpose so his parents could elude the cops back in the day.
Once marijuana was legalized for medical use in 1996, and recreational in late 2016, he figured they’d be overjoyed. No longer would they have to hide their grow, no longer would they be forced to deal with the underbelly of the black market. They’d been handed the keys to the kingdom, a legal way to do the same business. Nope. Not for them. He soon came to discover that it was just a way for the government to cash in and leave them with little to nothing. No, the black market was here to stay. It was big business. There was more money to be made there than having legal stock sitting on some distributor’s shelves waiting to be bought.
Their parents had always thought ahead. The farm had a water collection system. Wind turbines and even a hydropower system were used to generate electricity. They’d never taught them about survival, they never needed to because they didn’t expect them to leave.
Lincoln ran his hand over the fine mesh caging that enveloped the inside of the entire garage. “So this is what she meant when she said everything you need is here.”
Inside the steel doors on the garage were four ATVs and four UTVs. Jessie walked in and flipped the switch to light up the bulbs. This wasn’t power from the grid but from the hydropower system, a backup that had kicked in after the power went down. Jessie sat on a green Yamaha Grizzly ATV with 27-inch tires. His brothers looked curious, waiting for him to see if it started. He made sure the fuel was on and his kill switch was off, then he held the brake down and pressed the start button. It growled to life, a sweet sound that brought a smile to their faces. It would certainly make it easier to get back and forth from town.
His brothers hopped on the ATVs and within minutes they tore out heading for town.
To avoid drawing attention to the quads, they parked them in the back of their uncle’s home at the end of Oak Street, one of two large properties that butted up against the forest.
Only now could they truly see the benefit of where their family had purchased property. It was close to Melville Road, a paved road that headed up into the woodland and down into the town. They’d come down it many a time and Jessie had never given much thought to it. Alby was their father’s brother, a huge man in his sixties that cared little for his health or weight. He’d worked as a local mechanic. Always jovial and cracking jokes.
Alby was sitting on the back porch, calm and collected with a thick cigar in his mouth as they pulled in under the steel carport. His dog Lenny, a hound that had lived far too long, lifted his tired head from the porch as they strolled up.
There were two lanterns above his head offering a warm glow. “Your momma said you’d be coming.” He rose from his rocker with difficulty. His feet angled outward from being too overweight, and he breathed hard and always smelled like grease and bacon fat.
“How did you know?”
He pointed to the tower next to his house. “The ham radio.”
“So it’s all right to leave them here?” Jessie asked.
“Is blood thicker than water?” He chuckled. “Listen, she said you’d get me my meds.”
He was diabetic, a smoker, and yet despite being told by his doctor to change his ways, he refused. Despite his flaws, Alby was a decent man, always willing to go to bat for anyone. He pulled open the storm door and told them to wait. Lincoln dropped down on the porch and stroked the dog while Zeke plunked himself on the porch rocker and blew smoke into the night. None of them really knew the extent of what was before them or what danger would come in the following weeks. In many ways, they were just tools in the hands of their parents. Managing, supervising, overseeing the grow areas and the unruly trimmigrants as they were often called.
Trimmigrants were young hippie freaks who’d left home to make their money in the hills unaware of the dangers. Every month they arrived at the bus station in droves. They were easy to spot. Clueless. Dopey and with eyes full of wonder.
While his family treated their workers well, he knew of others that didn’t.
Many ended up as faces on missing flyers posted all over the town.
Dylan leaned against the porch railing. He took a magazine out of an AR-15 before palming it back in and making sure a round was in the chamber. They didn’t expect any issues but if trouble raised its head they were ready.
Alby returned holding an empty bottle of Metformin.
“I need some bottles of insulin too.” He showed him one as if he’d never seen it before. Jessie nodded. “Good to have you back, Jess. I hear we might be seeing Colby. That right?”
“Seems so.”
Back when Colby was around, the two of them were at odds. Always fighting for position and the attention of their parents. That was until that day. The day when he left. The day that… he slapped the thought away. He didn’t like to dwell.
“Well, you boys get going.”
They thanked him and headed out, scurrying down Oak Road, staying to the edge, hiding in the shadows. The road came out behind the only real grocery and pharmacy in Garberville — Ray’s Food Place. They scanned the road for cops or any curious onlookers before each of them pulled a balaclava over his face.
Jessie was the first to move. “Let’s do this.”
TEN
VIKTOR
Los Angeles
He now understood why Mikhail wanted her dead. Her blatant disregard for who she was screwing with burned him deeply. He’d never been so humiliated in his life nor would he ever be again. He’d make damn sure of that. Few had tried but they were now nothing more than ashes in the wind like she would be. Who the hell did she think she was? He’d make an example out of her. Oh, she thought she was a badass. Thinking she had the upper hand but he was about to show her how weak she was.
When he’d set out that night, he figured it would be an easy bag.
A simple grab and kill.
They’d done it countless times.
He’d never failed and he didn’t intend to this time.
Viktor Solonik chided himself as he strode north along the highway, Benelli shotgun in hand, chewing over how the situation had turned bad so fast. One moment he was minutes away from gaining a seat at the table, beside Mikhail, the next, on his back.
His mistake was turning his head toward that dog. That’s when she struck, firing that Taser, sending 50,000 volts through his body and making him jerk like a fish out of water
.
Then the kick to the face, well, that was the last straw.
She would have never done that had it just been her and him.
He’d awoken with a mouthful of blood, a swollen eye, and a broken tooth.
That man, that dog, that monster truck, if it hadn’t been for them, that bitch would have been lying in a pool of blood.
He gritted his teeth, seething, feeling the veins in his neck bulge.
If they thought they could vanish into the night, they were very much mistaken. He had eyes everywhere. He knew the city like the back of his hand. He owned this damn city. His connections had been made a long time ago through protection money and other criminal activities. Bratva had made a name for themselves, feared above even the Mexican and Asian gangs.
Hell, many of them worked for him.
His eyes washed over the faces of drivers who’d abandoned their vehicles.
Viktor couldn’t go back to the car he’d driven. It had died among the many others. Instead, he found himself joining a slew of losers heading north, many grumbling about the government, blaming the Middle East, talking about how they paid far too much in taxes to put up with this bullcrap.
He chuckled. They honestly thought the power grid was coming back on. They had no idea. They were oblivious. All Americans were. Too caught up in their bubblegum lifestyles, social media, and keeping up with the Joneses to realize their national security had been hamstrung a long time ago.
Ever since the Cold War had ended, attacking the U.S. had been on the lips of his countrymen. Their ties with the United States had only gotten worse since the strain of issues from Ukraine to Syria. Mother Russia had been biding her time, maintaining diplomatic and trade relations. Pretending to care. Shaking hands with every fool who entered office while slowly infiltrating the country and preparing for this attack. He’d closely watched as they probed the U.S. defenses, flying nuclear-capable bombers close to Alaska and sending military subs into the Atlantic to spy on the East Coast.