Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (27 page)

Anse called out to them from the clearing to hurry.
 
"The one that shot me got away, remember?
 
I don't want to be here when he gets back with his friends!"

Deputy Griswold sucked air between his teeth.
 
"If half the town didn't hear that gunfight, the other half could probably hear him yelling his fool head off.
 
I don't think we have much time."

Denny knelt again and carefully searched through the dead man's pockets.
 
"You know who he is?"

"Nah," Griswold said after a moment of inspection.
 
"I've seen him before around town, but I can't say that I ever got his name."

Denny pulled out the man's wallet and keys, a few granola bars and a glow stick, then pocketed it all.
 
He stood and looked at the Sheriff's Deputy.
 
"This is Greg Abbott.
 
He's the father of the smartest girl in my history class.
 
Felicia.
 
She was on her way to a 4.0 her senior year when everything around us went to hell."
 
He sniffed and rubbed at his face.
 
All he wanted to do was sleep.
 

"She had full rides waiting for her at BYU and USC—she just had to pick."
 
He looked down at the body of the man at his feet.
 
"He and his wife, Rebecca..."
 
Denny glanced back at Deputy Griswold.
 
"They had me over for dinner back in September when she got the acceptance letters.
 
They wanted to discuss Felicia's decision to attend USC.
 
They wanted me to convince her to stay closer to home and pick BYU…"

Anse pushed his way through the pine trees like a drunken bear.
 
"What the hell are you guys doing…damn!"

Denny shivered as if stepping from a hot shower into a cold room, then stepped over the body to retrieve the buried rifle.
 
He dusted the snow off and slung the long gun over his shoulder.
 
A small strap attached to the stock held four more rounds.
 
"As far as I know, Greg here never fired a weapon in his whole life."

"Probably why he missed," muttered Griswold.

"Jesus, Denny," exclaimed Anse, "you killed Greg Abbott."

Denny shot a withering glare at Anse.
 
"You realize he came within a few inches of blowing Deputy Griswold's head off his shoulders, right?"
 
Denny shook his head.
 
He glanced around the snowy landscape, a familiar tickle between his shoulder blades.
 
"If Townsen can get good, upstanding men like Greg Abbott on his side, we'll have a harder fight than I thought."

"So you want to fight," said Griswold as he holstered his weapon.

"I got a score to settle of those sons of bitches now," muttered Anse, gingerly checking his side.

"I wasn't talking about you," spat the Deputy.
 
"I know
you
do—you'd pick a fight with a honey badger."

"He's right, though," said Denny.
 
"Something has got to be done.
 
If Townsen can get men like Greg Abbott to hunt people like me—there's no telling what he can do.
 
He needs to be stopped and fast."

"I'm mighty glad to hear you say that, sir.
 
Me and a few of the others feel the same way, only we don't have a lot of experience in this kind of thing.
 
But with you and the Russians…"

Denny closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.
 
Again with the Russians.
 
Is that all anyone thinks of me anymore?
 

"I don't like to think about that,"
 
he muttered.
 
He opened his eyes and looked at the lawman.
 
"I did what needed to be done, but I'm not proud of it."

"Well, looks like you got more things that need doing…" observed Anse.
 
"What do we do with Greggie-boy?"

"What do we do about the guy who got away?" asked Griswold.

Denny looked at Anse.
 
"First, we need to get out of here.
 
Did you get a good look at your attacker?"

"Hell yes, it's Billy Vassal.
 
He's been tight with Townsen since high school."
 
Anse spit a glob of saliva into the red snow at his feet.

"Deputy Griswold—"

"Mark, please."

Denny nodded.
 
"Mark—you need to get back your family and—"

Griswold's face hardened.
 
"Townsen made sure I don't have to worry about my family ever again," he said through clenched teeth.

Denny looked at Anse.
 
His large, bloodied friend slowly shook his head and looked away.
 
Denny looked at the ground.
 
"I'm sorry.
 
I didn't know."

"It's all right, it's not your fault.
 
When Townsen took supplies from those Federal assholes, he specifically prohibited law enforcement personnel from getting medical attention unless we turn over our weapons and swore loyalty to President Barron.
 
I didn't know if Sheriff Bridger was still alive or not, so I refused.
 
Maggie died two days later."

Denny put his hands on his hips and looked away.
 
"Dammit."
 
He looked back at the two men.
 
"Look, you guys need to go into hiding.
 
Find a place to hole up—Anse, you can't go home.
 
They know where you live, and they know—"

Anse laughed.
 
"Denny, I haven't been home since you disappeared.
 
Those jackasses probably looted my place five ways from Sunday by now.
 
I'm just glad I stored most my toys out in the woods.
 
Me and the boys got a camp up north of town, on the east face of the mountain.
 
Ain't nobody can get up there without us seeing 'em.
 
I'll be fine."

Denny pondered this for a moment.
 
"How many men can you trust?"

Anse puffed his chest out.
 
"Only ten, but I trust every one of them with my life.
 
They all fought the Russians—most of 'em lost family to those Red bastards.
 
They'll fight Townsen."

Denny looked at his friend for a moment.
 
Anse gave the impression that if his hunting buddies didn't join the fight, he would make them sorry.
 
A smile split his face.
 
"All right then, we got ourselves a start."

"The other deputies are with you," said Griswold.
 
"Townsen took over the patrol station and
 
got the armory, ammo, and supplies.
 
But Sheriff Bridger always had us keep a small cache at home, in case of emergency.
 
We each got a couple shotguns, our sidearms, some vests, and ammo.
 
It ain't much, but if it helps, it's yours."

Denny put a hand on the shoulders of both men.
 
"All right then.
 
Get back to your friends—let's meet at Anse's camp in two days.
 
We need to let this little incident blow over."

Anse kicked Greg Abbott's foot.
 
"What we do about him?
 
His family would want to know…"

The image of Felicia, sitting in his class raising her hand to answer questions, flashed through his mind.
 
She was always so eager to learn and help her classmates.
 
A future life spoiled—wasted.
 
He hardened his heart against the grief.
 
Poor girl never had a chance.
 

Denny glanced down at the body of her father.
 
"Leave him.
 
No matter what we do, Townsen will make us out like the bad guys.
 
They'll be back soon enough—better they find the bodies than think we kidnapped someone.
 
Maybe it'll go easier on Rebecca and Felicia that way."

Deputy Griswold was about to say something when Denny held up his hand.
 
In the distance he heard a squirrel bark.
 
It was the first sound of nature he'd heard since arriving at the meeting site.
 

"Something's not right.
 
You hear that squirrel?"
 
he whispered.

Anse nodded.
 
"I think someone's coming."

"Your friend might have come back," Griswold said with a nod toward Anse.

"I'm ready for 'im this time," growled Anse as he clutched his rifle.
 

"No," said Denny.
 
"We need to get out of here—we don't know how many there are.
 
Now go!"

"What about you?" asked Griswold as he fished out his car keys.

"I'll be fine, trust me."
 
He flashed a grin and pushed his way through the pines.
 
Ignoring the snow that trickled down the back of his neck, he pulled Greg Abbott's rifle behind him.
 

He didn't bother to look back.
 
He knew Anse would already be well on his way into cover.
 
Denny paused and waited about 20 yards out until the sound of the patrol car's engine receded into the distance.
 

Denny slid his way down a shallow ravine and walked southwest, taking him away from his own camp set up just west of town.
 
If anyone tried following him, he'd lead them nowhere fast.

After a hard 15 minutes slogging through the snow, Denny paused behind a tree and let his heart rate to fall back to normal.
 
He pulled a small canteen from the hip pocket on his snow pants and took a sip of ice cold water.
 

No good.
 
Cold water like this will do more harm than good.

He closed his eyes and stretched out his senses, listening for any noise out of the ordinary.
 
The only thing he heard were the various sounds of nature: jays calling to each other in the snow-capped canopy overhead, and squirrels skittering on branches ahead of him upslope.
 
In the distance, a crow cawed and was answered by a handful more, the lonely sound echoing through the woods.

Risking a glance around the corner of the tree, he peered back through the hazy light and saw nothing but his own footprints.
 
A quick glance above told him the sky was ready to birth another snowstorm.

Denny smiled.
 
By nightfall, his tracks would be erased.
 
The smile faded when he imagined the snow covering the body of Greg Abbott.
 
The people desperate enough to gather around Townsen were no trackers.
 
He doubted if anyone would find Greg Abbott's body before spring.
 
Wolves maybe…and coyotes, but not man.

The thought of Felicia sitting at home, wondering where her father was—when he would come home—never knowing for sure that he'd died alone and cold…

Denny shook.
 
The adrenaline from the fight had left him drained and spent.
 
His hands fumbled to wipe the cold tears from his face.
 
If not for the snow-blasted tree holding him up, he would have collapsed into the cold at his feet.

What's happening to me?
 
I killed men…I killed a dozen Russians… I…

In the distance, carried on the wind he heard the calm, reassuring voice of Red Eagle:
You never killed a friend before.
 
You never killed a good man.

Denny opened his mouth, dropped his head into his hands and wept in silence.

C
HAPTER
25

Washington, D.C.

The White House.

C
OOPER
STIFLED
A
YAWN
as he rested his elbows on the roof of his command vehicle and put down his night vision binoculars.
 
It was almost midnight and if he hadn't just got a few hours sleep on the trans-atlantic flight from Germany, he swore it was all a dream.
 
He stared again at the darkened White House in disbelief.
 

I can't believe it's come to this.

He turned left to face Jax, Swede, Juice, Maughan, and Charlie waiting behind a Stryker armored fighting vehicle.
 
His SEALs stood dressed out in the best battle rattle the Marines could provide.

Other than Sparky, his men were ready to roll.
 
Cooper stepped down from the lead Stryker.
 
To the east, around the corner of the Ellipse Visitor Center toward Pershing Park, a large group of Marines under General Rykker had set up command headquarters.
 
Sparky had set up on the visitor's center roof southwest of Pershing Park.