The soldiers began ransacking the Robinson’s house. They tore through the rooms searching for their fortunes like a hurricane torrent hitting a trailer park. First, the master bedroom. That’s where most household valuables were likely kept. Drawers were ripped out of the
dressers and nightstands. Socks and underwear and scarves were dumped on the carpeted floor. Nothing was worth stooping down for. Jewelry boxes were emptied into the duffel bag to be sorted later. Shoe boxes were swept from the closet shelves onto the floor and quickly looked through. There was a woman’s purse, but it had less then twenty dollars in it. The American stuffed the money in his uniform pocket anyway, grumbling. No safe was found.
They continued their search in the kitchen. They smashed a chicken shaped cookie jar on the counter with the end of a rifle. Canisters of sugar and flour and coffee were shattered in search of any cash. The leader checked the refrigerator freezer section. He knew some people often stashed cash there. But there was none. In the room used as an office the Chinese soldier opened the desk drawers while the American went down the hall. The foreigner was getting excited in his search. He was going to get rich stealing from these degenerate Americans.
In the bottom drawer of the desk he found a thick envelop with some English writing scribbled on it. He couldn’t read it, but he opened it. Inside he found five crisp one-hundred dollar bills. His eyes grew wide with excitement and a crooked smile creased his face. In his hand was a year’s worth of wages back home. He unintentionally let out a soft squeak at his good fortune. The American walked through the hall and peeked into the office. He saw the soldier slipping an envelope into his shirt, stuffing it behind his Kevlar vest.
“What the fuck you doing?” the American asked him.
The Chinese soldier shook his head and got up. He instantly lost his smile.
“What you got in there?” the leader asked, seeing part of the envelope sticking out of his uniform.
The subordinate tried to be sneaky and pushed his fortune farther into his shirt. He said something unintelligible in Chinese.
The leader shouted back, “I don’t speak Chink.”
The American grabbed the little man by his jacket collar, then pulled the envelope out from his shirt. He opened it and took out the cash. Five bills. Nice score. He tossed the empty envelope in the Chinaman’s face and slipped the bills into his pocket. The Chinese soldier looked up at the much taller trooper. He tried to smile, but he knew he was caught.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” the American yelled. “You sneaky little thieving bastard, you!”
The Chinese soldier put his hands up to his face, as if to protect himself from a solid blow to the jaw. He had no idea what would happen next.
The American drew the pistol from his holster and without a moment’s hesitation aimed and shot the Chinese man in the temple. “Fucking commie bastard!” He removed the dead soldier’s weapons
and tossed them into the bag. More for me, he thought as he continued his search of the house alone.
He returned to the back of the residence, hoping to find more cash. The likelihood of locating anything of value in the kids’ rooms wasn’t good, but he wanted to be thorough. Then he heard a sound in the front. It was a man’s voice.
“Honey? Honey?”
The soldier assumed it was the husband, lost in the fray of things and returning home. He moved quietly toward the front door, rifle raised at a shooting angle.
“Honey, I’m home. Where is everyone?” the husband asked, stepping into his own house a bit cautiously.
The American soldier inched down the hall. He could hear the man moving in the living room still calling out to his wife. The soldier swiftly turned into the front room, ready to shoot.
The homeowner came face to face with the soldier. “What… what? Who are you? Where is my fam…?”
The soldier shot Mr. Robinson once in the heart before he finished his question. An easy shot from such a short distance. The man fell backwards onto his sofa and quickly began to bleed out. Then, the soldier ripped the wallet from the dead man’s pocket and pulled out fifty-seven dollars, which he greedily stuffed into his own pocket.
“They’re waiting for you in hell,” the American said. “And stop calling me Honey,” he laughed out loud. He had more work to do.
Chapter 17
In the next five minutes Raz steered his Chevy onto the half-mile long high school drive. Over the last several moments he had been thinking privately.
He pulled to the side of the road.
“There’re lights on in the school,” Nick mentioned. From a quarter mile away he could see they weren’t battery operated lanterns either. The entire outside of the complex covered in a thick gray sky was lit up like a ballpark at night. There were two uniformed guards with weapons at the main entrance turn off. They had stepped aside and waved at the drivers as the school buses which Raz was following entered the lot.
“Let’s go in there and get our families, Nick,” Cody blurted out in frustration, his voice somewhat dry and anxious.
“I’m with you, buddy,” Nick added.
“Now hold ya horses, boys,” Raz said. “Ya think ya just goin’ go up to ‘em guards and ask if ya can git ya families back? And they’re goin’ say, ‘Well sure boys, go right on in and find ‘em.’ Then they goin’ escort ya in there and wave as ya go on ya merry way with the wives and the kiddies.”
“Hadn’t thought of that,” Cody admitted.
“They ain’t goin’ let ya waltz right in there, ya damn fools. Those people inside ain’t comin’ out that easily. Believe me.”
Nick became irritated with Raz’s theories. He was a crazy old man, maybe even demented. “Raz, the people inside were evacuated from the cold. You know what that means? They were saved by whoever is in charge here. I’m getting my family, god-damn it.”
Nick tried to push his way out of the cab past Cody who reached to open his door.
Raz growled like he does and turned sideways next to Nick. He held a pistol in his hand aimed at Nick’s chest. “Just simmer down, boys. Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere. Least not yet. Ya go in there and ya ain’t comin’ out. How in the hell is that gonna help ya families?”
Both Nick and Cody were shocked to see the gun. Cody cocked his head. “Raz? What’s this?”
“Just savin’ ya lives,” the bearded driver groaned. He pulled the pistol away and returned it someplace inside his jacket. “We need a plan ta git in there, and then ta git out.”
Cody thought about it. Raz was right. Again. The old man was so damn irritating with his common sense arguments. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Ain’t got one yet. Give me a minute,” Raz said, deep in thought.
Both Cody and Nick threw up their hands.
Another school bus passed them and entered the grounds. Two more left empty, heading back toward town.
“We have ta figure those people in the school are bein’ held against their will at this time. They’re more like prisoners than evacuees,” Raz began processing his plan.
“Why do you say that?” Nick wanted to know.
“ ’Cause, the cops ain’t on the road. This ain’t their show. Ain’t seen no troops from the army base, neither. I’d feel more relaxed if they was involved. So my question is, who are those guys drivin’ the buses and collectin’ the families?”
“No clue,” Nick remarked.
“The only logical answer is that they ain’t the good guys. That’s what I suspect.”
“If that’s true, Raz, and I’m not saying it is. What can we possibly do about it?” Cody asked.
“Shush! I’m thinkin’. It’s a step by step process, just like effective interrogation. Move from one theory ‘til ya discover the facts. Another theory leads ta more facts. Do it over and over. In the end ya have the answer. Well, most of the time.”
“What are the facts?” Nick asked.
“Well.” Raz was organizing his intricate estimations. “It’s a fact that the peop
le are bein’ detained as if they was prisoners. So, what do
ya do if ya have, what, thousands of prisoners in a small, inadequate space?”
Cody and Nick shrugged their shoulders. They had absolutely no idea.
“The first thing ya do is ta relocate ‘em ta a larger facility. Someplace unfamiliar ta the detainees. Someplace possibly far away where they can be better watched over. Ya git too many people in there,” he pointed toward the high school, “there’s bound ta be trouble.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Cody said. “That means we have to get them out now.”
“Not so fast, sonny.” Raz’s thoughts started to come together. Guards at the main entry road, probably have guards at the other doors around the building. Lights are on. Still daylight. Most likely there are troops inside with the detainees. Maybe not that many. Buses coming in. Buses leaving. They’d be filling up the building pretty damn quick. Time to move some of the people.
“What are you thinking?” Nick asked.
Raz held up his hand. “Wait a damn minute, will ya.” Trees and bushes along the far side of the building. Blind spot. Then he remembered something.
“Ah huh!” Raz said with a wicked grin. “Years ago when we still lived in town there was some days I took my son, Jacob, ta school. He could never wake up on time. Teenagers, ya know. So I’d drive him here before goin’ ta work. He didn’t want ta go in through the front door. They had someone stationed there who would write up the late ones. So he would sneak in through some back way. There’s a single door on the far side near the student parkin’ lot. Apparently only the janitors use it. Jacob would tell me how he could jimmy the lock and git in without anyone catchin’ him. Damn kid.”
Raz nodded his head. “That’s how ya get in.”
“Okay,” Cody said, happy to have half a plan. “But how do we get out?”
“Ya’ll have ta figure that one on ya own,” Raz said. “Improvise ya
way out. Ya have ya gun, don’t ya?”
“Ah…yeah.”
“When ya git ta the door, use a knife ta slide back the latch. There’s no metal brace protectin’ it, if I recall correctly. Should be easy. Just pry the lock open and ya’re in,” Raz explained.
“I’m not sure if I can do it,” Cody admitted. He’d never broken into any place before.
“Hell, my boy got inside in less than two seconds. Ya smarter than a tenth grader, son?”
“Okay,” Cody said again. “But I need a knife.”
“Ya don’t even have a damn knife?” Raz grumbled. “Jesus H. Christ,” he huffed. Raz reached into one of his pants pockets and pulled out a four inch pocket knife. He handed it to the school teacher. “Here. Ya know how ta work it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s good. Don’t cut yaself. It’s sharp.”
Cody gave the old man a weird face, like he wasn’t completely
incompetent.
“I’ll back the truck down that there dirt road. I think the grounds crew uses it. See that small storage buildin’ over there. No one will see us ‘cause of the trees. Ya guys can scoot around ta the door and git in without any guards noticin’ ya,” Raz explained to them.
Cody and Nick nodded in agreement.
Then Raz slowly backed the pickup down the dirt path and stopped on the blind side of the storage shed. “Okay boys. This is it. Remember, stay low and be quiet. I’ll stay here in the truck waitin’ for ya. Be quick, but don’t get caught.”
Cody looked at the mastermind behind this rescue attempt. “Duh!”
Both Cody and Nick exited the truck, closed its door quietly, and moved through the trees toward the back corner of the school. They were scared to death. They stopped at the last clump of bushes, looked around for guards and saw the coast was clear. They then ran to the door Raz told them about. Single door, no brace protecting the locking mechanism. This was it.
Cody opened the jack knife while Nick kept an eye open for any nearby movement. Cody slipped the blade between the door jamb and the locking bolt. The knife slipped and hit his index finger. “Shit!” he yelled, after realizing he had just cut himself. It was a minor gouge, but it was bleeding.
“Shhh! Quiet,” Nick said, worried that a guard would hear them.
“Sorry. I cut myself.”
“Yeah, I see that. Want me to open it, Indiana Jones?” Nick mocked.
“I can get it.”
On the second attempt the door lock released and the two entered the janitor’s dark room. They were in.
Inside the crowded gymnasium the first group of detainees was being formed into a haphazard line. Guards pushed the evacuees toward the double doors. People were crying and shouting. Some complained, but were convinced by the back end of several rifles to shut up. They were being moved to some other part of the school.
Cody and Nick slowly opened the janitor’s interior door into the bright gymnasium. They cracked the door a few inches to peek inside. They heard jumbled noises. Cody pushed the door open two more inches, hoping not to be detected. Then they saw thousands of people wrapped up in their coats and hoods and tight blankets. The room was as cold as outside. A line of sorts was being organized. Guards were pushing people in place, their backs to the door.
Cody leaned on the door and opened it enough so he could stick his head inside and look for his family. There were too many of them. The column of people was being slowly led out of the room.
“I see Robin,” he whispered to Nick. Robin was carrying little Jennifer. Jeffrey was holding onto his mother’s coat. They were being shuffled along. “Your family is right behind her,” Cody added. There was hope in his eyes. But how was he going to get to them?
A guard walked near the opened door. Cody saw his back. He was a big man. He was close enough to touch. Cody quickly but quietly closed the door several inches. He felt the pistol in his jacket, but let it rest there. Seconds later he dared again to look inside. This was his only chance. Robin turned to Nick’s wife, Lisa. She appeared to be lost. Anger had reddened her cheeks, Cody thought. Or was it just the cold? Still moving in line, Robin was about to say something to Lisa. Then she saw the janitor’s door slightly cracked open a bit farther, her husband barely visible.
Instinctively she yelled out, “Cody!” Then she caught herself, but it was too late. Young Jennifer parroted her mother with a question. “Daddy?”
Cody put a finger to his mouth, as if to say ‘Quiet.’
But the guard nearest the door saw Robin’s reaction. He swiftly turned and saw the door partly ajar. He barked something in a different language. Russian, maybe. He grabbed the door knob and pulled, but Cody held onto it with both hands. Thinking quickly, Cody then slammed the solid door outward into the guard which pushed him off center. Cody glanced up at his family. They had disappeared into the outside hall.
With Nick’s help, Cody yanked the metal door shut. They felt it being pulled from the other side. Two sets of hands were yanking at it. The two pulled it tighter and heard the lock finally click in place.
“Run, man, run!” Nick shouted.
They dashed through the room toward the exit. Bam, bam, bam. Bullets pounded the metal door panel. Most of the lead lodged in the steel, but several bounced off. More bullets rained against the door like fireworks popping incessantly.
One bullet squeezed through the weakened metal and struck flesh. There was a spastic shriek. Nick went down just steps from the outside exit. It was dark and Cody almost tripped over his friend. “I’m hit,” Nick whispered. The bullet had penetrated the back of his left leg, just below the knee.
Cody reached down and hoisted his friend to his feet. “We have to go!” Cody said as calmly as possible. The door was being riddled with more hot lead. Several shots entered the small room, but missed the men. They heard loud and hysterical screaming echoing from the other side of the door.
Cody and Nick crashed through the outside door. They didn’t bother looking for any security forces. They just ran, Nick
leaning on Cody. They raced to the bushes, then through the clump of trees. Any minute they expected to see armed guards shooting at them. They could easily and swiftly be picked off before they reached the landscaper’s storage shed. But they heard no shots. There were no alarms. But it didn’t mean that the soldiers wouldn’t be outside any second.
Cody helped get Nick to the shed. Nick’s leg was bleeding badly from the running. Cody ripped off his belt and wrapped it around Nick’s thigh. “That should help slow the bleeding,” Cody said. Right now they needed to get to the truck.
Raz saw the men make it to the shed. He knew something had gone drastically wrong. He took a fleeting glance at the corner of the school building. Two huge uniformed soldiers had burst out the door and were crouching low, searching the grounds for the fleeing invaders. Raz flung the passenger door open.
“Hurry boys,” he said, as if he were late for church. “We got company comin’.”
Cody dragged Nick to the truck, his injured leg giving out. He threw his friend into the cab and jumped in just as Raz put the pickup in gear. The old man heard gun fire and felt several slugs hit the back panel of his truck. He pushed the Chevy to its limits as he bounced down the dirt path onto the pavement.
Moments later he swung left and raced away from the high school grounds. In his rearview mirror he saw something very strange. Behind the guarded entrance Raz saw a row of four large Army buses waiting in convoy to leave the premises.
What he had feared most, and somewhat predicted, was happening.
Chapter 18
Nick groaned from the piercing pain in his leg. He lifted his pant leg to look at the wound. It was the first time he had ever been shot and it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but it wasn’t as bad as he had first thought. The bullet had torn through the fleshy part of his calf. It was a nasty looking injury, but he would survive.
Cody tore off a strip of his shirt and wrapped it around the bloody mess. He then secured the improvised bandage with the two end strips of cloth. “There,” he said. “That should hold for awhile.”
Treasonous Behavior- in the Beginning Page 12