The Ungovernable

by Franklin Horton

  Hugh and Gary threw back the doors and Randi burst out, leading the way. Lloyd followed, then Jim. Hugh and Gary brought up the rear. The explosion had the desired effect. Some of the folks on the street were running in the direction of the noise while others were running away from it, afraid they were under attack. Some stood still like it was the beginning of a fireworks display and they were waiting for the good stuff.

  Everyone on the street was talking excitedly about what must have happened. It took several moments before anyone noticed the banged up man under armed escort. A hand raised and pointed at him. That one raised a hand, one pointed finger, spread like wildfire. Soon there were more raised hands and the murmur of voices. People knew what this was. Someone had brought in the wanted man and was going to collect the bounty from that flyer everyone had seen or heard about.

  A group of women started in their direction. They appeared to be unarmed, likely wanting to ask a question or see the arch-villain up close. Hugh figured this was enough attention for now. They needed another diversion. The garage door opener hung around his neck and he raised it, hitting a second button. A block away and on the opposite side of the street, the twelve foot light-up pig that advertised the Piggly Wiggly grocery store exploded in a shower of pink plastic pieces.

  There were screams and people running now. No one had been close enough to be injured, however, it was close enough that more people were wondering if they were under attack. No one appeared to connect that there was a relationship between the prisoner being escorted through town and the explosions taking place. The explosion had the desired effect. People were running and cleared a path for them.

  Building on this success, Hugh pushed a third button. There was a loud boom and a majestic old maple on the high school campus splintered. Immense branches sagged to the ground on all sides. The deep pop of cracking wood filled the air as the tree toppled over.

  “Shaped charge?” Jim asked.

  “Bored a hole in it with an auger,” Hugh said.

  This third explosion further cleared the path for them but it also brought a dose of the unexpected. Jim’s team hadn’t anticipated that there were already people filling the bleachers around the football field, waiting to see if this would be the location where the prisoner showed up. At the sound of the explosions, folks streamed from the bleachers and came around front of the high school to see what was going on. There was now a larger crowd than they’d planned for. More of a crowd than they could handle despite their weapons and stockpile of ammo.

  The team halted in their tracks.

  “Why are all these people here?” Lloyd asked. “It could have been any football field in the area. How did they know to come to this one?”

  “Because word got around that this was where Jim lived,” Gary replied. “It’s the only possible answer. Word travelled that the guy in the flyer lived outside this town. All these people must be waiting to see if it’s true.”

  In the midst of the chaos, of people running in all directions, Jim’s team stood out like a sore thumb. They were anchored to the ground, heavily armed, and circled around one man. They were like the boulder in the stream and people quickly noticed. Just as it had happened before, an arm was raised, a finger pointed, and a ripple spread to the crowd.

  The problem was that this crowd was directly in the path of Jim's group. This was the route they’d planned to use to get from the theater to the football field and now it was blocked. A vast lawn, perhaps one hundred and fifty yards wide, separated them from the leading edge of the crowd. They needed a plan quick. They couldn’t just stand there drawing attention.

  "What do I do?" Randi hissed, her voice low and urgent. She was in the lead and had no idea where to go.

  "I don't see any choice," Jim said. “If we try to go around them, try to pass around the other side of the building, they’ll only follow us. I say we point guns at them, fire some shots, and hope they run."

  “Of course that’s your plan,” Randi sneered.

  "Are you freaking kidding me?" Lloyd exclaimed. "That's hundreds of people. This could turn into a slaughter."

  "Any more tricks up your sleeve?" Jim asked Hugh.

  "Just one," he said. “Last resort.”

  He pointed the garage remote at the front of the beautiful brick school. The building was built in the 1930s in the Greek revival style. There were massive columns with elaborate carved corbels supporting a roof over the front entrance. Hugh pushed a button and a shaped charge at the base of each column exploded simultaneously. The columns were sheared off their bases, teetered precariously, and then toppled over. Unsupported, the massive roof structure sagged and then failed, pulling parts of the front facade with it.

  Terror spread through the crowd and people were running in all directions. Some screamed as they were pulled under and trampled. There were some injuries, people hit by splinters from the wooden columns, shrapnel, or flying bricks.

  "Hugh!" Gary said. "That was too close. Innocent people are getting hurt."

  "You have a better idea? If that group rushed us we wouldn't be able to stop them."

  "Quit debating!" Jim yelled. “There’s no time for this!”

  "Five minutes and seventeen seconds," Hugh said. “We’re cutting this close.”

  Randi gestured toward the side of the building where a gap had formed in the crowd. "There’s a path. Let’s go now."

  The group rushed forward, moving as a unit, as if this was an executive protection detail and Jim was the VIP. He felt like anything but a VIP at the moment. Without his gun he felt ineffective and useless, like he was failing to carry his weight and letting his friends down. He desperately wanted to help but was in no position to do so.

  They accelerated to a jogging pace, weapons at high ready, scanning all directions. This was like nothing anyone had ever trained for. It was impossible to assess the multitude of potential threats. They were everywhere—people in all directions, some with weapons, screams and yelling as people were trying to figure out what was going on.

  The explosions apparently made some people rethink the idea of sticking around for the main event. The crowd was thinning and a few were leaving town at a run. Jim’s team circled around the back of the high school. No one got close to them. Before them lay the football field with its chain-link fence and goalposts. They were taken aback at the sight of it. There were cattle grazing on the muddy field, working at the overgrown grass. It made sense yet appeared very out of place. The fencing around the field captured blowing trash and debris. The fancy electronic scoreboard sat dark and was riddled with bullet holes.

  "That way," Jim said, nodding to the far side of the field. "The fieldhouse."

  That was part of the plan. The fieldhouse was a simple block structure built for locker rooms and gear storage. The cinderblock walls would provide some ballistic protection while they were waiting for the chopper to arrive. They had to be down to just a couple of minutes left on the timer, but they would be very long minutes.

  There were over a hundred people in small clusters in the bleachers and Jim's group moved with determination, trying to be discreet, yet understanding that was impossible. They were trapped in a narrow aisle of chain-link with a four foot fence on one side of them and an eight foot tall fence on the other. There was no concealment and everyone noticed them.

  Jim chanced a look at the stands and saw those accusing fingers pointing again. People understood who the cuffed man was and why he was here. Even if they didn't know his name they knew that he was the guy. The face on the flyer.

  They reached the fieldhouse and Randi rattled the door handle. It was locked. “Shit. What do we do now?”

  "Back up!" Hugh said.

  He withdrew a Ruger Redhawk .44 Magnum from a shoulder holster and took aim at the lock. Two shots and he'd sheared the mechanism connecting the handle to the strike. He drew back and kicked. The door flew open and bounced off the inside wall.

  Hugh holstered the Redhawk and raised h
is M4. He pressed the pad switch on the vertical foregrip and his weapon-mounted light flared to life. He charged in and cleared the network of musty, dark rooms. Oddly enough, it appeared that no one had been in there since the attacks. It seemed like the room was ready for the football team to come in and prepare for a new season.

  Hugh snapped a white chemlight and tossed it on the floor. The ambient glow was just enough to illuminate the windowless room. When everyone was safely inside, he returned to the front door and stood watch.

  "Time?" Jim barked.

  "Three minutes twenty-two seconds."

  "Shit," Jim said. "This is killing me.”

  There was a sound from the radio. Hugh pulled it out and increased the volume.

  "Big Bird for Oscar, Big Bird for Oscar. I'm over your town. I can’t see the field. Pop smoke," came the command of the radio.

  “Roger that, Big Bird,” Hugh replied. “Gary, cover me."

  Hugh bolted from the door and stopped at the chest high fence. He yanked the pin from a smoke grenade and heaved it toward the center of the field. There was a pop and hiss and red smoke streamed out in a dense cloud. Not satisfied, Hugh popped another and tossed it after the first.

  It took a moment, but soon smoke spread throughout the tiny football stadium. Heading back toward the fieldhouse, Hugh paused when he spotted three young men approaching from the direction of the bleachers. He didn’t have time for this. He levelled his weapon at them. “Another step and I kill you!”

  “We just wanted to see the terrorist,” one of them said.

  Something in the way Hugh looked at them convinced them he was utterly serious. If they got closer they would die. They turned and ran. Once he was certain they were gone, he returned to the shelter of the fieldhouse doorway and raised the radio to his mouth.

  "Oscar for Big Bird. That's two smokes. You seeing anything?"

  It was a long, concerning pause before he received a reply. "That’s affirmative, Oscar. I’m seeing red smoke to the south. We’ll get some altitude for maximum visibility, dump our cargo, and see you at the fifty yard line.”

  “Roger that,” Hugh said. “Let’s get the show on the road.”

  Jim had been sitting on a bench but he couldn't take it anymore. The anxiety was wearing on him. He got to his feet and started pacing the room. He probably looked like a football player from years gone by trying to psych himself up for a big game. For him, this was a big game. In fact, it was the only game and he only had one play in his playbook. If he screwed it up, there wouldn’t be a next season. It would be game over.

  38

  "I’ve got radio chatter," Davis said.

  "What? Locals?" Boss asked. “Amateur radio shit?”

  "I don't think so. It's one of our frequencies. It's got to be chopper traffic."

  "Are you kidding me? I can’t imagine there’s another chopper in the area."

  "We’ve seen them before,” Gordon said. “Operating out of other bases, run by other agencies. We don’t completely control the air.”

  “Somebody just said something about landing at the fifty yard line,” Davis relayed.

  “As in football field?” Boss asked, looking from the pilots to Gordon.

  Gordon threw his hands up in a gesture of ignorance. “No clue.”

  “Find them,” Boss ordered.

  Frustrated with his own lack of a view from the back, Boss clipped into the tether system and threw open the door, scanning the surrounding skies for a chopper.

  “I’ve got smoke,” Stanley said.

  “That’s the signal!” Boss said. “Whoever collected my prisoner is supposed to bring him out on the field and signal with smoke.”

  Davis raised his visor and squinted to the south. “Is that a parachute?”

  Boss raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes and scanned. “Got it. A couple of pallets with cargo chutes.” Boss scanned the area around the drifting pallets and found the chopper. “There!”

  Gordon looked in the direction of the chopper. “That’s another Black Hawk. Not military though.”

  “Get them on the horn,” Boss ordered. “And close the distance.”

  Davis maneuvered them closer while Stanley worked the radio, trying repeatedly to hail the chopper.

  “They’re not answering,” he said.

  “Keep trying,” Boss said, glaring out the door of the aircraft. He had no idea who they were but they were not about to screw up his operation. He’d waited too long and worked too hard for this.

  39

  "The cargo is deployed," Hugh said. "I can see the chutes. It won’t be long."

  "Is this where we take Jim out?" Randi asked.

  Hugh nodded seriously, then turned his eyes to Jim. "Are you ready? No turning back from this next step."

  "Not sure I’m ready but it’s now or never."

  "We escort him to the goalpost as a group and I tie him off to it. We all retreat to the sidelines and circle up back to back, wait for the chopper to drop and pick him up. Once he’s safely on the chopper, we get the hell out of this town and boogie back to the horses."

  "We don't stick around for our reward?" Lloyd asked, trying and failing to defuse the tension.

  "If you want the reward, it’s at the end of those cargo chutes. You better start running now because you’re going to have some competition,” Hugh said.

  They could hear the rotors now, the chopper not directly over them but close. They had to move. Hugh put a hand on the back of Jim’s body armor. "This is it, my friend."

  Jim swallowed. “If I don’t make it—”

  “We’re not having that conversation!” Lloyd interjected. “Let’s do this!”

  Hugh held his rifle at low ready, steering Jim with his left hand. Gary, Randi, and Lloyd followed him in line. They went through the gate in the chain link fence that players used to access the field, then jogged toward the goalpost.

  Jim tried to make it look good, playing up his injuries, making it appear as if he’d been roughed up. Hugh jerked him around as if reminding him that he needed to be cooperative or he’d get another beating, shoved him into the goalpost, and spun him around. The post was padded so it looked worse than it was. He held Jim in position while Lloyd hooked a long zip tie through the flex cuffs and fastened it around the goalpost

  "You guys be extra careful,” Jim said. “I better not get home to find one of you missing.”

  They all made eye contact with Jim but nobody had any words left. They were too scared to speak. They ran for the sidelines as a group, their hearts pounding as they watched the helicopter move into position over the center of the field where it just hovered.

  Hugh stared in anticipation. “What the hell? Why aren’t they landing?”

  There was no answer. No one knew. They needed to descend while the football field was empty and get the show on the road. The longer they hovered there, the more attention they attracted. Soon people would be streaming back in from town. Those who hadn’t pursued the cargo spiraling down on the parachutes might wander back in their direction wanting to see how this show ended.

  Hugh heard something from his radio. He pulled it out and raised into his mouth. Whatever they’d said, he’d missed it over the sound of the chopper. "Scott, what's the problem?" he shouted into the mic. “Get down here and let's get this done."

  He held the radio to his ear and maxed out the volume. What he heard was like an injection of ice water into his veins.

  “Big Bird to Oscar, please stand by. We have a second chopper approaching.”

  The transmission was followed by another. It was no one Hugh had heard on the radio up until this point. “Civilian aircraft, identify yourself and your mission. Please pull off and leave the area immediately.”

  Hugh looked around at the group and his panicked expression terrified them.

  "What's going on?" Gary asked.

  "There's another chopper," Hugh said. “It has to be the people who threw out the flyers. These are the people w
ho really want Jim.”

  "Then tell Scott to get down here now," Randi said. "He needs to land before they get here."

  Hugh raised the radio to his mouth and keyed the mic. "Oscar to Big Bird, I don’t give a damn who’s up there. If you don't get down here and pick up the prisoner, it's over. We need to finish this."

  "Roger that," came the reply from the chopper. “Please stand by.”

  Hugh, Randi, Gary, and Lloyd crouched there on the field, back to back. Their eyes flitted between Jim, the hovering chopper, and the people in the stands. They felt exposed and anxious. They’d thought this was going like clockwork, until suddenly it wasn’t.

  A banging sound caught their attention, audible even over the hovering chopper.

  Randi jumped. “What the hell?”

  They tried to locate the source.

  “The press box,” Gary said, pointing at the elevated booth from which announcers called the game.

  All eyes turned in that direction and they saw two men beating the glass window with chairs. There was a crack, then the glass let loose from its frame and tipped out. One of the men inside threw his chair and the weight of it carried the glass downward. It tore loose from the frame and dropped thirty feet to the concrete bleachers and shattered, fragments flying in all directions.

  Jim’s team watched with concern, unsure of what was going on. Was this related to the second chopper? Was this someone after the bounty? They had their answer in a moment. The four men inside stuck rifles through the opening created by the missing glass and opened fire. They were not shooting at Jim, nor at the hovering chopper. The target was Jim’s team.

  Divots of grass erupted near the group, accompanied by the blasts of multiple rifles echoing off the concrete bleachers.

  “RUN!” Hugh screamed, shoving the team in opposite directions.

  These men were shooting semi-automatics. The rounds kept coming. Hugh returned fire, trying to force the men down, trying to stop the barrage of bullets, but there were too many shooters. Hoping he’d bought the team a head start toward cover, he ducked and ran.