Bug Out! Part 10: RV Race to Battle (8 page)

“You’ll live through it,” Jerry said. “We’ve got a good team, and they have a lot of idiots in their ranks.”

“George and Malcolm
do
give us a little edge,” Jeb said. “George will cause all kinds of havoc with that sniper rifle. Remember the ambush.”

“Yeah,” Jerry said.

“You don’t think they’ll light off that nuke if they think they’ll lose?” Terry asked.

“Not if we take out the leadership in a hurry,” Jerry said.

The Sheriff was sitting quietly, listening. Then he turned back to Jerry. “In war, things always happen that you don’t expect,” the Sheriff said. “I definitely think it’s good we took off early. They already know they’re in trouble there. We’ll be lucky if Saladin isn’t gone by the time we attack.”

“Where’s he gonna go?” Jerry asked.

“I don’t know, but I doubt if he’s stupid,” the Sheriff said. “He created a lot of havoc in the Middle East, and now he’s been given command of a huge force here. He’s not dumb, and if we have it in our minds that he is, we’re gonna die.”

That ended the conversation for a little while. They rode along silently, as the sun got closer to the horizon.

***

Sheriff Branson and Deputy Lawrence parked their patrol car down the road from the barn, and got out of their car in a crouch, weapons out, scanning the area. Sheriff Branson was a large, burly man with a shaved head and a big Wyatt Earp style mustache. Deputy Lawrence was a slightly chubby kid, who looked like he just got out of high school, with black hair combed straight back. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead, but it was a couple hours before dusk and cooling off.

“There’s our unit,” Sheriff Branson said. “Don’t touch anything, and keep your eyes open.”

“Okay,” Deputy Lawrence said. He saw the first deputy laying in the ditch, his face a bloody mess. He ran back to the road and threw up, then came back alongside Branson.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” Deputy Lawrence said. “Ricky and I were going on a double date tonight. Now he’s in a ditch.”

Sheriff Branson put his gun away. “Whatever happened here is over,” he said.

Deputy Lawrence put his gun in the holster. “Two of our guys, plus two bikers out here.”

“What do you notice?” Sheriff Branson asked.

Deputy Lawrence looked around. “Looks like the biker shot Ricky and he shot back.”

“No, that’s what they want us to think,” Sheriff Branson said. “Pistol wounds in the biker’s torso, and a shotgun blast in the Deputy’s face. Not much chance that they both fired like that at the same split second.”

“Oh,” Deputy Lawrence said sheepishly. He looked around some more.

“License plates!” he said. “Bikers are from Michigan. A long way from home.”

“Good,” Sheriff Branson said, smiling. “We need to call the FBI, but let’s look around a little first. What else do you notice?”

“These guys look too clean cut to be real bikers,” Deputy Lawrence said. “Oh, crap, is that a Bluetooth headset on that one?”

“You’re making progress, Deputy,” Sheriff Branson said. “This looks like yuppies on a road trip to me. This wasn’t some drug deal gone bad. These folks weren’t expecting a fight. Neither of these bikers are armed. It’s pretty obvious that the shotgun didn’t belong to this guy.”

“Why?” asked the deputy.

“See anything on his bike that would hold a shotgun?”

“Oh,” he said. “You’re right.”

They walked down the driveway, and the Deputy noticed a body laying against the wall of the barn, just inside the door. “Sheriff, body over there.”

Sheriff Branson walked over to it. “Just a kid. Looks about seventeen or eighteen.”

“Should we be taking pictures?” Deputy Lawrence asked.

“Later,” he said. “Let’s check the rest of the place. See all that chrome back there, reflecting? Looks like there are at least six more bikes.”

“Is that a woman hanging on the wall by the front door?” the Deputy asked.

“You got good eyes,” Sheriff Branson said. “Look out in the middle of the yard. Two more bikers laying there.”

They walked over to them. One moaned.

“Sheriff, this one’s still alive,” the Deputy shouted.

“Call it in,” Sheriff Branson said, looking at the other biker. “This one’s toast. Half his head is gone. Look at all the dead guys on the driveway. This was a massacre.”

“Seriously,” Deputy Lawrence said. He called for an ambulance, then knelt down next to the man. “Can you hear me?”

The man looked up at him with heavy eyelids and smiled weakly. “Thank God,” he whispered.

“The ambulance will be here in a minute,” Deputy Lawrence said. “What happened here?”

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “We were just coming here for a party. Somebody pulled a motor home across the driveway and shot at us.”

“Anything I can do for you while we’re waiting?”

“Yeah, there’s a bottle of water in the saddle bag on my bike. Could you get it for me?”

“Of course,” Deputy Lawrence said. He found it and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. “You go ahead on. I’ll be okay until the ambulance gets here.”

The deputy trotted over to the driveway. Sheriff Branson was kneeling down next to one of the bodies.

“Anybody alive over here?” Deputy Lawrence asked.

“Nah,” he said. “Hunting rifles. They really tear a man up. That one over there gonna make it?”

“I don’t know, maybe. He’s gut-shot, but he’s fairly alert.”

“He say anything?”

“Yeah, motor home pulled across the driveway and opened fire,” Deputy Lawrence said.

“Probably was in that barn,” Sheriff Branson said. “Thought I saw tracks in there.”

They walked up to the porch. The woman was hanging on the wall, blood around her neck and down her naked front. A biker was laying in front of her, dead from a headshot. Next to him was another dead biker with a butcher knife in his hand.

“If that guy slit the woman’s throat, he was forced into it,” Sheriff Branson said. “And he got shot for his trouble.”

“Yeah, looks like it,” Deputy Lawrence said. “I’ll go check the house.” He pulled his gun out of his holster.

“I’ll be behind you,” Sheriff Branson said. “After I check behind the house.”

“Okay,” the deputy said, as he walked through the living room. No sign of gunfire inside. The first floor was clean. He climbed the stairs to the landing. Two closed doors, on the left and right, and an open door straight ahead. He cautiously walked into the open door. A closet door was hanging open. He looked inside. Gun cleaning fluid smell. A few gun-related articles, but no firearms or ammo that he could see.

“Deputy Lawrence, I’m in the house. You upstairs?”

“Yeah,” he shouted. “I checked the downstairs. I think there’s a basement, though.”

“Okay, I’m on it,” he shouted back.

Deputy Lawrence went to the right door and slowly opened it. It was a messy bedroom, reeking of stale beer and whiskey. The bed was a mess. Nobody in there. He left that room, closing it behind him, and opened the left side door. Another bedroom, with several twin beds. It was cleaner than the first two, and the beds were neatly made. The windows were open. He thought about the kid in the barn right away. There was a small stack of comic books next to one of the beds, and a glass on the nightstand next to the other. It still had water in it.
Somebody was living in this room.

“Hey, deputy, check this out,” Sheriff Branson shouted from downstairs.

“Be right there,” he shouted, leaving the room, closing the door behind him. He trotted down the stairs to the ground floor and rushed into the basement.

“Torture room,” Sheriff Branson said. “Look, there’s blood on the floor beneath those cuffs.
Fresh blood.
”

The siren of the ambulance sounded, coming up the drive.

“I’ll go meet them,” Deputy Lawrence said, bolting up the stairs and out the front door.

Sheriff Branson pulled his radio out. “Jackie?”

“Yes, Sheriff,”

“Get me the FBI.”

***

Howard drove silently, Scott still sleeping in the passenger seat beside him. The bedroom door opened, and Kerry came out. He walked up to the front.

“Where we going, Howard?” he asked.

“Indiana,” Howard said, turning back to him and smiling. “You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s some pop tarts in the pantry. You like those?”

“Yeah, Howard. Want one?”

“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks, Kerry.”

He went in the back, rummaged around in the pantry, and came back with two packs, handing one to Howard.

“Is Scotty okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just tired. Remember he got stabbed a couple days ago.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kerry said. “I miss Blake.” He cried.

“I know, Kerry. I miss him too.”

Scott stirred and woke with a start, looking around, not remembering where he was. Then he looked over at Howard and calmed down.

“How far are we?”

“Several hundred miles,” Howard said. “You slept a while. How’s the wound?”

“It feels okay,” Scott said. “I think Johnny did a good job of patching me up.”

“Hey, Kerry, why don’t you go grab Scotty something to eat,” Howard asked.

“You want pop tarts?” Kerry asked.

“Sure, and bring up sodas for all of us, too. They’re in the door of the fridge.”

“Okay, Scotty.” He scampered to the back.

“How’s he taking things?” Scott asked.

“He cried a little about Blake, but other than that, he seems okay.”

“Good,” Scott said.

“What are we gonna do with him when we’re hunting?” Howard asked.

“I don’t know,” Scott said. “We might have to wait until we get back to Ohio to have any more fun.”

“You don’t have anybody you can leave him with?”

“Nope,” Scott said. “He’s the last of my relatives. I’m all he’s got.”

“This is a problem,” Howard said.

“I know, but don’t worry. I’m thinking on it.”

Kerry was back up with the pop tarts and sodas.

“What are we gonna do, Scotty?”

“We’ll go to my house in Ohio,” Scott said. “You’ll get your own room there.”

“What about mom?”

“She died, Kerry. I’m sorry.”

Kerry started to tear up, but then his face changed. He smiled. “She can’t hurt me anymore.”

“No, she can’t,” Scott said.

“You gonna put me back in the center?”

“No, Kerry, if you don’t mind staying with me.”

“Yes, I want to stay with you, Scotty,” he said. “I’ll be good.”

“Sure, I know you will,” Scott said.

Howard studied both of them, a worried look on his face.

***

“So what’s the plan, George?” Heidi asked, as they rode along.

“Get Saladin and his leadership team,” he said. “That’s job one.”

“With the missiles,” she asked.

“I didn’t think you were listening to that,” George said.

“I was close enough to hear most of it,” she said. “You didn’t sound too confident about being able to get him that way.”

“I’m not,” George said. “I think we can take out their base, but I’ll bet Saladin is already hiking out of there.”

“Think he knows enough to take out the chip?”

“I don’t know,” George said. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s brilliant, you know.”

“So I keep hearing,” Heidi said. “What’s the biggest danger? Honestly?”

George sat silently for a moment, then looked over at her.

“If we take that place, regardless of if Saladin gets taken or not, somebody might set off that nuclear device. We’ll be too close.”

“Oh,” Heidi said. “Great.”

“Yeah,” George said. “The trick is gonna be to take that out before they can use it.”

“If we blow it up, won’t the device go off?”

“No, they don’t work that way,” George said.

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” she said.

“They’re slowing up ahead,” George said. “Look, they’re turning onto that dirt road.”

The Humvee was still in the lead, hitting the rutted dirt too quickly and slowing fast. Then Jeb followed, and Malcolm. George was right behind. They tightened up their caravan.

“Better keep a hand on the barrel of the M107,” George said.

“Okay,” Heidi said. “How come you didn’t bring the case?”

“Didn’t want to take up the space,” he said. “This might not be the most important weapon I’m bringing this time.”

“Why not?”

“It can shoot through walls, but not rock,” he said. “The OICW is probably the best tool I have.”

“How many rounds you have left for that?”

“Fifty or so,” he said. “Enough.”

“Will that damage the place?” Heidi asked.

George chuckled. “Maybe, but who cares? I’m no environmentalist. If it’s between us getting clipped and scarring some rocks, guess which I choose.”

Heidi looked over at him and chuckled.

The caravan slowly picked its way along, the rocky vistas and red sand becoming more beautiful as the sun went below the hills. The lead vehicle stopped.

“Looks like meeting time,” George said. “Let’s go.”

They walked up to the lead vehicle and joined the gathering.

“It looks like we can drive with our headlights on for the next twenty five miles,” Private Brown said.

“How close does that get us?” asked Kurt.

“About five miles,” Private Brown said. “After that, if there’s enough moon out, we might be able to get further. I say we keep going as far as we can. If we can get all the way, great. Otherwise we camp tonight.”

“Anybody been watching the icons?”

“Yeah, I’ve been on it,” Jerry said. “Still same placement, from what I can see.”

“My dad…uh General Hogan has been monitoring the satellite feed with Frank, too,” Private Brown said. “There’s a road block bottling up the highway to the main gate now. He hasn’t seen any of them going there to challenge it yet.”

“Any movement on the semi-truck?” George asked.

“They have a lot of men around it,” Jerry said. “Was just talking to Frank about that. They see icons, and have a good satellite view.”

“Once things get started, we should take that out,” George said. “Otherwise they might light it up.”