The Devil's Stop

by Scott Blade

“Widow, I was an MP, remember? I checked him out before I hired him. He’s good. He found stuff I never would’ve. Like that Jackson’s here somewhere.”

  “How does he know that? Why here? It’s the middle of nowhere.”

  She shrugged and said, “I guess cellphone. Or some kind of illegal surveillance.”

  Widow nodded. It was possible. If Harvard had run off or whatever he did, he could be in New Hampshire. It was just as plausible as anywhere at this point.

  “We should try calling your guy.”

  “Shiden.”

  “Yeah. ”

  “Should we do that now?”

  “First, I think we should check in with the marshal. Let her know what’s going on. Maybe she knows something.”

  “Sounds like a plan. But first, we have to rent a car. I can’t be on my feet walking from one side of town to the other all day.”

  Widow nodded.

  “How do you feel now?”

  “I’m good, but even though this town is small, this county is not. Have you seen a map of this place?”

  Widow shook his head.

  “I did. Several aerial maps of the terrain. Outside of Hellbent, it’s nothing but nearly hundred miles of wilderness. Mountains. Lakes. Huge trees. It looks like a rainforest from the sky.”

  Air Force, Widow thought. Of course, she’d checked out a bird’s-eye view of the area.

  “How did you get those maps?”

  “Internet.”

  “Right. Stupid question.”

  She stayed quiet.

  He asked, “Where are we going to rent a car?”

  “Avis is that way.”

  She pointed east.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where’s the police station?”

  “It’s farther.”

  “Let’s walk.”

  They headed east.

  Chapter 18

  O N THE WAY TO RENT A CAR, they passed the vape shop. Widow looked in the windows and the glass on the door. The lights were off, and the place was still dark.

  Harvard kept walking, but stopped and turned back when she saw that Widow was no longer beside her.

  “Widow?”

  He was standing and staring.

  “What time is it?” he asked her.

  She took her phone out of her jacket pocket and clicked the button and checked the time.

  “It’s about eight thirty.”

  It was morning. Eight thirty in the morning. Widow stared at the glass, the outside part of the door. He wasn’t looking through it. He was staring at the times of operation which was posted right there on the door.

  “Widow, what is it?”

  “They’re supposed to be open now.”

  “So?”

  Widow said nothing.

  “Do you need to vape or something? ”

  “Nothing. Let’s go on.”

  Chapter 19

  T HEY RENTED A JEEP WRANGLER after the guy behind the counter tried to talk them down to a more suitable car for a woman in Harvard’s condition, his words. Almost his last words.

  Instead of knocking the guy’s teeth out, like I had been a little scared she might, she used his sexism to amplify her desire to get whatever she wanted and what she wanted was to rent something with four-wheel drive and no modern luxuries.

  But it turned out that new Wranglers came with quite a lot of luxuries, more than the older models, that was for damn sure. The one they rented was a four-wheel drive, as requested, and the a/c worked great. The chairs were big and comfy. The dashboard was full of knobs and doodads that did all kinds of stuff that we didn’t need.

  Harvard had the a/c on full blast, which was virtually freezing Widow out of the vehicle, but he didn’t complain. He figured that maybe she needed it cold because now she had to endure the body temperatures of two human beings. That meant double the heat being generating.

  Widow imagined a planet having another planet, two cores heating a planet can make it all pretty hot.

  “Tell me when to turn,” she said.

  “Keep along this road.”

  They were looking for the laundromat, marshal station. Widow had only been there the one time and couldn’t remember the exact location. He knew the direction.

  “For such a small town, there’s a lot of streets here,” Harvard said.

  “There’s a lot of emptiness here.”

  She nodded.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot,” he said.

  “Why Hellbent?”

  “Why not?”

  “I mean why did you come here? This place isn’t on any map. How’d you get here?”

  “I hitched rides.”

  “Why here?”

  “I’m doing this whole devil stop thing.”

  “Devil stop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Care to explain?”

  She took a left and then a right at a stop sign, didn’t stop.

  “I started out west in Idaho. I found a beautiful place called Hell Canyon. I stayed the night at a campfire, with a Canadian couple. They gave me the idea. They were a fan of horror movies or something.”

  Harvard stopped again, this time for a school bus, empty, but it had the right of way, passing in the other direction.

  “And?”

  “I stole the idea from them. They talked about visiting all the Devil Stops in North America. Every year they travel to one. This year it was Hells Canyon. I thought that sounded like as good a reason as any to go somewhere.”

  “So you visited all these so-called Devil Stops?”

  “Just some of them.”

  “You go to Hell’s Kitchen?”

  “That’s the obvious one. I was there last.”

  “Hell, Montana?”

  “It’s not in Montana. It’s Hell, Michigan.”

  “So then somehow you heard of this place?”

  “Yep.”

  They made their way around a circle, and then they saw the laundromat.

  “Right there.”

  Harvard stopped, and K turned like Wagner had the day before, and parked up behind on the side street.

  “That’s weird.”

  “What?”

  “That,” Widow said and he pointed out the windshield at a New Hampshire State Trooper vehicle.

  It was Wagner’s Dodge Charger.

  “That’s the car I rode in to get here. ”

  “It’s a state trooper car.”

  “I know.”

  “Why’s he still here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They got out of the Jeep and walked over to the Charger.

  Widow put a hand on the hood.

  “It’s cold.”

  “He must’ve stayed the night after you left?”

  “I guess. But where’s the Marshal?”

  “Is she upstairs?”

  “Doubtful. Her truck is gone.”

  “Let’s check anyway.”

  Widow nodded, and they walked over to the same old fire escape that Bridges had climbed down the day before.

  At the top, Widow tried the doorknob. It was locked.

  Harvard stepped around him and looked into a window. She used both hands to cup the glass. She peered between them like she was looking through a microscope.

  “I don’t see anyone.”

  Widow said, “The lights are on.”

  “There’s a coffee pot on the machine. No steam. The light’s off.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Cops leave coffee on the pot all the time.”

  “I know. Remember?”

  She came back up from the window.

  “What now?”

  Widow turned and descended the stairs back to the main level. Harvard followed .

  At the bottom of the stairs, Widow headed back over to the Charger, and said, “I guess we gotta do the footwork on our own. You got a photo of your husband, right?”

  “Of course.”

  She took her phone o
ut again and sifted through the screens with her fingers and came out with a photo of her husband in dress uniform.

  Widow looked at it.

  “Captain huh?”

  “I told you that.”

  “What was his name again?”

  “Jackson Harvard.”

  “You don’t have a photograph of him?”

  “No.”

  “In your wallet?”

  “Who carries photographs around anymore?”

  Widow shrugged and said, “Lots of people.”

  “Guys maybe. Men are always behind women to adopt modern technology when it comes out.”

  “What about video games?”

  “You play video games now?”

  Widow did nothing.

  “This is all I got.”

  “It’ll work fine.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “What time is it now?”

  Harvard rechecked her phone.

  “Close to nine.”

  “Wagner told me that Bridges has a volunteer deputy. Let’s hang out a bit. See if he shows up to work. ”

  “Wagner? Bridges?”

  “Wagner is the Trooper. Bridges is the Marshal.”

  “Okay. What time this deputy get here?”

  “No idea. But anywhere from nine to eleven would seem right to me.”

  Harvard said, “We can’t wait around for two hours?”

  “Just a little past nine.”

  “What do we do while we wait?”

  “I think we need to try to get in touch with your PI. I need to know how he knows that Jackson is here.”

  “I told you already. He’s dodging me.”

  “Maybe, he’s not expecting someone to call from a different number.”

  “You’ll get his secretary, and she’ll dodge for him.”

  “I won’t mention you or Jackson.”

  Harvard nodded and said, “Ok. Where do we call from?”

  “Stay here. Wait for the deputy. I’ll find a payphone.”

  “You’re leaving me?”

  “I’m gonna walk around the corner. There’s bound to be a phone somewhere.”

  “Ok. How long will you be?”

  “Not long.”

  The sun must’ve moved higher in the sky right at that moment because Harvard covered her eyes, then she reached into her jacket and pulled out a pair of gas station bought sunglasses, no brand logo on them. She slipped them on.

  “Widow, thanks for helping me.”

  “Don’t thank me until we find your husband. Or at least get answers to what’s going on.”

  Harvard nodded.

  She walked to the Wrangler and popped open the driver side door and pulled herself up onto the seat.

  Widow almost offered to help her but backed off. If she wanted help, she’d ask for it.

  Looking like a ballerina, didn’t make Harvard delicate like one would think. She was tough. No doubt about it.

  Widow nodded and told her he’d be back, and he walked away, turned the corner.

  Chapter 20

  T HE MAJOR SLAPPED his boots up on a dusty, stone patio table top outside on a square deck in the backyard. He pulled his cigar out of his pocket, relit it, and puffed a long, ominous drag from it, let the exhale slide slow out of his mouth up into the air.

  Everything was coming to fruition., the whole plan. All of it. All of their waiting. The only thing that they needed was the missing airmen. They needed him to get into the installation in the first place. They needed him for recon intel.

  Finding him wouldn’t be hard. Or it would. Either way, they were getting in. The plan was going all the way.

  Nothing would stop it.

  And if they didn’t find him, then they’d take the installation by force, which they’d probably have to do anyway.

  The Attack Dog stepped out and nodded at him. He waited like he was waiting for orders.

  “Sit down,” the Major said. “Enjoy yourself a little. We’re almost there.”

  The Attack Dog looked at his watch .

  “We only got till noon. That’s three hours.”

  “That’s plenty of time. So, relax. Where’s Prescott and Allen?”

  “In the house.”

  The Major held the cigar in the corner of his mouth and pointed at a road in the distance.

  “Good. Send them to the site. Tell Prescott to take his sniper rifle. Tell them to stay back and give us a head count. We know there’s at least two down in the hole.”

  The Major reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the crumpled paper that he wrote the coordinates down on from the airmen the night before. He reached it out to the Attack Dog, who took it and looked at it.

  “This is the location?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s just down that road?”

  “About six miles or so. Why you think we took this house?”

  The Attack Dog shook his head.

  “Nothing else on this road, Lareno. Nothing else. This is the perfect spot to sit tight till noon.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “What about him?”

  The Major took his boots off the table and took the cigar out of his mouth. He stood up, walked to the side of the patio, leaned against a post.

  He pointed past the trees to a visible gravel road.

  “That’s the only way in. Right?”

  “Right. ”

  “Then relax. He won’t get there. We’ll see him.”

  “We should post the truck there.”

  The Major nodded.

  “Of course. A little roadblock. Send Jones over there. Tell him to stay back about two miles from the site.”

  “Rules of engagement?”

  “Tell him to keep his rifle out of sight. Shoot if necessary. Tell him to use his badge.”

  Lareno nodded.

  The Major said, “If he spots our guy, tell him to take him alive.”

  “What if he warns them? Telephone or something?”

  “They don’t have external communication. No phone. No way of talking to anyone unless he is physically there.”

  Then the Major thought for a moment and spoke more.

  “Actually, they do have a phone, but it comes directly from the White House. Unless our guy is personal friends with the President, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “They can talk when the door opens.”

  The Major pulled his watch up to show it to the Attack Dog.

  There was a countdown in progress. Big green, digital numbers counted down. It counted down to noon, obviously.

  “What does that say?”

  “Three hours and fifteen minutes. ”

  “Exactly. That’s when the hole will open. Till then. The only thing we can do is find the other one. And we do need to find him. Just in case. We may have to kill the ones in the hole. It’d be nice to have someone other than Arnold.”

  “I thought Arnold is a former Missileer?”

  “He is, but this’s different. Remember? A new thing? There’s new technology in play.”

  Lareno nodded.

  “So, we should be out looking for the other guy.”

  The Major took an M9 Beretta out of a hip holster, concealed behind his vest and jacket. He set it on the table top, sat back in the chair and puffed the cigar.

  He nodded.

  “You’re right. I want a minute to celebrate how far we’ve come. We’re beyond the point of no return. Homestretch.

  “But we must find him. Of course. Who’s left to look?”

  “Me, Arnold, Ethans, Warrens.”

  “Where’s Giles?”

  “He hasn’t checked in since yesterday.”

  The Major said, “He was dealing with the Marshal?”

  “Yeah. I’ve tried to contact him.”

  “Damnit!”

  “Want me to get over there?”

  “No. Send Warrens.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yeah. If he’s
compromised, I don’t want anyone else getting mixed up. ”

  “What if he Warrens finds him compromised. Like in handcuffs and all?”

  “Tell Warrens to kill him. The Marshal too.”

  Lareno nodded.

  The Major ordered, “The Major ordered, “Send Arnold out to look.”

  Lareno said nothing.

  The Major said, “And Lareno.”

  “Sir?”

  “That old bitch got any beer in the fridge?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Send her back here.”

  Lareno nodded and left for a second. He came back with Dorothy who struggled to free herself from his massive hands. But she couldn’t.

  The Major grabbed her by the back of her collar.

  She screamed out in fear.

  “Calm down.”

  She tried to calm herself, but she kept looking down at her dead son. His body was still slumped over the broken window to the back of the house.

  Now, she could see the look on his dead face.

  “What’s your name darling?”

  Dorothy was quiet.

  The Major jerked her one hard tug on the back of her collar.

  “Yes! Yes!”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Dorothy. ”

  “Dorothy?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, Dorothy, you ain’t in Kansas anymore. Get that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Listen up. We killed your boys. Which makes you maybe think that you got nothing left to lose. But you do.”

  She squirmed in his grip, so he jerked her again.

  “Stop it!” He commanded.

  She stopped struggling.

  “Good. Now, we can do all sorts of bad thing to you and your old man. Believe me. Your boys got off easy compared to the things we can do to you and him.”

  “What do you want from us?” she cried.

  “Dorothy, I’m trying to tell you that.”

  “Are you guys from the motorcycle club?”

  The Major laughed.

  “What now?”

  “Our sons used to be part of a motorcycle club. A gang. Is that you guys? Did they owe you money? We don’t have any money.”

  The Major bent down so he could look her square in the eyes.

  “What makes you think we are a motorcycle gang?”

  “The outfits.”

  The Major looked at his leather vest and the patches on it.

  “Oh, this shit? This isn’t ours. None of us are in a motorcycle club. ”